When Love Doesn't Look Like Love

Near my bed sits a yellow legal-sized piece of paper, crudely-formed ABC's strung together to read, "I Love Mommy Because."  Numbers fall down the page's left margin beside a list of whatever my youngest son could dream up that fit the bill.

I've held onto this love letter for almost two years now.  On those days when my children just don't get how everything I do is an act of love for them, I pick up this page and remember back to my oldest son sobbing on my sofa while younger siblings peeked around corners or stood on the steps below to hear his complaints about how this mommy didn't love him as much as she loved the twins.

Even the walls listened that day as I snuggled him close and began to list everything I had done that week because I loved him--I washed his clothes so he wouldn't go naked, I forced him to drink his milk so he would have strong bones, I allowed him to go to Oma's house so he could have be loved by his other family, I drove to the library and checked out more books so he could open up entire worlds through reading...

When the tears stopped, he went merrily along his way as if nothing had happened, and I wondered if he had internalized anything I'd said.  But a few days later, the yellow love list appeared, a testament that the son who had been listening in the wings had understood.

Much like my children know I love them, I know God loves me.  Sometimes, though, if I'm really honest with myself, God's love doesn't look like love to me. In fact?  It looks and feels a lot like pain and maybe even a little like punishment, even when it's nothing of the sort.   

While my Bible study had nothing to do with the story of Mary, Martha, and Lazarus this past week, that's where I found myself stuck....on the tiny, insignificant word So:

"Now a man was sick, Lazarus, from Bethany, the village of Mary and her sister Martha.Mary was the one who anointed the Lord with fragrant oil and wiped His feet with her hair, and it was her brother Lazarus who was sick. So the sisters sent a message to Him: “Lord, the one You love is sick” (Jn. 11:1-3).

It's the word "so" that demonstrates Mary and Martha's faith in Jesus and in His ability to heal.  "So" can be translated "therefore" or even "consequently."  According to Thayer's Greek Lexicon, it's a word "indicating that something follows from another necessarily."

In other words, Because of X.....then Y.  Because Lazarus was sick (X).....the sisters sent for Jesus (Y).

That use of "So" makes perfect sense, demonstrating the sisters' faith in Jesus' power over illness.  Please come...

But Jesus didn't.  

In fact, after Jesus heard the message, Scripture includes a really odd phrase "Now Jesus loved Martha, her sister, and Lazarus" followed immediately by the words "So when He heard that he was sick, He stayed two more days in the place where He was" (Jn. 11:5-6).

In the Greek, it's the same word found in verse 3.  "So"--consequently.

Because Jesus loved Mary and Martha (and maybe even Lazarus?) (X)....he didn't go heal Lazarus (Y).

Imagine Mary and Martha waiting...expectantly waiting, turning with eager anticipation each time they heard footsteps in the dust outside the house.  Or perhaps their faith was even greater and they waited expectantly for Jesus to simply heal from afar as He had done earlier with the nobleman's son (Jn. 4:46-54).  Either way--the waiting for a miracle that just never happened must have been heartbreaking....Lazarus' death seeming to be such an unnecessary disappointment.

Honestly, someone having the power to help but choosing not come to my aid when I call to them for help--that just doesn't look like love to me. 

But that's what Scripture says: He loved; consequently, he waited.

Jesus explains His actions to the disciples by saying, " I’m glad for you that I wasn’t there so that you may believe" (Jn. 11:15).  In essence, Jesus was telling them that He loved them enough to allow pain and heartache in their lives, all so that their faith would be strengthened. 

When Jesus finally made it to the three-day-dead corpse of Lazarus, Mary and Martha both seemed to question His love, each woman repeating the same phrase, "Lord, if You had been here, my brother wouldn’t have died" (v. 21, 32).   

Even in their grief, though, they spoke faith in Jesus' ability.  That had not changed.  But Jesus loved them enough to desire to show them even more of Himself in order to increase that faith.

When Martha is disturbed at Jesus' request to open the tomb, Jesus says just this: "Didn’t I tell you that if you believed you would see the glory of God?" (v. 40). 

This act of love in showing His power over death did more than a simple act of healing could ever do.  What's more, it not only increased Mary and Martha's faith but increased others' faith as well.

Understanding God's love versus man's love requires us to stop and view things from God's point of view.

• As painful as our sufferings may seem in our humanity, in God's economy, NOT healing a person can be an act of love. 
• In God's economy, the sufferings of this life that seem to last an eternity are actually less than the blink of an eye in comparison to the true eternity. 
• In God's economy, it's not just about me and my faith being increased.  It's also about those around me and their faith being increased as well.  

No matter what our emotions tell us, let us constantly look at our circumstances as proof of God's love for us, saying as Paul did, "Therefore we do not lose heart. Even though our outward man is perishing, yet the inward man is being renewed day by day.For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, is working for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory,while we do not look at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen. For the things which are seen are temporary, but the things which are not seen are eternal" (2 Cor. 4:16-18)

A Mentor: Preparing the Way

Many of us know well the straight-line plot of the Christmas story.  Angel Gabriel visits Mary with the news that she is with child, though yet a virgin.  She immediately runs to her cousin, Elizabeth, who is miraculously pregnant despite her age, and when she returns three months later, Mary tells her fiance Joseph who obviously does not believe her since he plans to privately put her away versus having her publicly stoned.  

Then, the angel appears to Joseph in a dream, confirming Mary's words so that when he awakens, he immediately takes Mary as his wife, even going so far as to protectively take her along with him to Bethlehem to be counted in the census.  There, amidst the least of humanity is born the greatest of all, Immanuel, God made flesh, dwelling among us.

But what about that little side trip to Elizabeth's?  In those days with no Wal-Mart or Dollar General on every corner, trade caravans frequently traveled between cities.  If anything, being under Roman rule only increased traffic along the trade routes.  So, although it sounds insane for a young girl like Mary to just take off to her cousin's house in a nearby town, it probably wasn't as crazy as it sounds.  Also, the fact that the angel named Elizabeth as a relative, or cousin, implies she and Mary may have already had a relationship as family would have, especially in those days.

When Mary asks the angel "How can this be, since I am a virgin?" the angel explains about the overshadowing of the Holy Spirit, then without pause adds, "'And behold, even your relative Elizabeth has also conceived a son in her old age; and she who was called barren is now in her sixth month. For nothing will be impossible with God'” (Lk. 1:34, 36-7).

God needn't have given Mary further "proof" than the angel's presence that His Word would come true.  In other places in Scripture, He chastens those who ask such questions.  And yet, perhaps because Mary was so young or perhaps because God knew her question wasn't so much a lack of faith but a lack of comprehension of the nuts and bolts of the process,  He did give Mary a kind of Gideon-like fleece in this verse about Elizabeth, not only providing proof that could be confirmed but also a place touched by God's miraculous hand where Mary could go to for encouragement and mentoring.

Mary's response to the angel shows obedience and belief, and in this faith of a young girl, Scripture says, "Now at this time Mary arose and went in a hurry to the hill country, to a city of Judah, and entered the house of Zacharias and greeted Elizabeth" (Lk. 1:39-40)..

 She hurried.  I imagine Mary hurried because she was excited to know her relative who had been barren all her life was suddenly six months into her pregnancy even though she was past typical child bearing age. Perhaps Mary, herself, had even prayed diligently for years for Elizabeth to be with child and to remove the curse from her household. 

I imagine she hurried because as much as she believed by faith, she wanted to believe by sight as well.  

I imagine she hurried because she wanted desperately to share what was happening to her with someone who would truly understand the miracle of God.

And Mary wasn't disappointed.  

As soon as Mary's foot passed over the threshold of her cousin's home, Elizabeth was speaking words of affirmation and comfort to Mary's soul.  Scripture reads, 
 
"When Elizabeth heard Mary’s greeting, the baby leaped in her womb; and Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit. And she cried out with a loud voice and said, 'Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb! And how has it happened to me, that the mother of my Lord would come to me? For behold, when the sound of your greeting reached my ears, the baby leaped in my womb for joy. And blessed is she who believed that there would be a fulfillment of what had been spoken to her by the Lord.'" (Lk. 1:41-45).

Luke records that Mary stayed with Elizabeth "about three months, and then returned to her home" (v. 56).  It is likely Mary was there when Elizabeth gave birth to John who would become known as John the Baptist, the one whom Scripture says, "came, preaching in the wilderness of Judea, saying, 'Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand.' For this is the one referred to by Isaiah the prophet when he said, 'The voice of one crying in the wilderness, ‘Make ready the way of the Lord, Make His paths straight!’'" (Matt. 3:1-3).

Just as John the Baptist came to prepare the way of the Lord, to prepare hearts for Jesus and the baptism by the Holy Spirit, so, too, Elizabeth helped prepare the way for Mary to be the mother of the Savior.

Those three months with Elizabeth were a divinely appointed preparation time for Mary to be mentored both spiritually and physically for what was to come in the days ahead.

And that's it.  Story over.  Scripture never records what happens to Elizabeth.  Did she die before King Herod served up John then Baptist's head on a platter?  Or did Elizabeth live long enough to suffer through the loss of her one and only son?  I'm not sure the answer really matters.  

Whether or not God required Elizabeth to suffer in this way, the death of John the Baptist must have been a way to prepare Mary for what was to come with her Jesus, whether through continued mentoring as she watched Elizabeth grieve the loss of her flesh or through the grieving she felt as she mourned, herself, due to the spiritual connection she must have felt with John since he was an infant.

These side-stories in Scripture, those names included in the larger story but whose sub-plots we dismiss or too easily pass over--these are where we should see ourselves.

Are we the Elizabeth, mentoring a young Mary as she prepares to begin a life devoted to supporting the Savior?

Or are we the Mary, seeking out that Godly mentor to show us how to live Godly lives both during the good and the bad we know must come on our journey?

For me, I am both, and in a way, that's how I believe it should be for us all.  At this time of year, may you and I earnestly seek to be an Elizabeth in someone's life.  Likewise, may our hearts be sufficiently tender (no matter how old and wise we think we are) to seek our our own Elizabeth to prepare the way of the Lord in our hearts.

The Significance of Twenty Children

There I am, surrounded by a table full of young boys, all under the age of six.  Two of them keep sneaking open their markers when they think I'm not watching, the temptation to color a shepherd standing alone against the void of night much too great to withstand, or so it seems.   

My Bible lies open in front of me revealing the words of the familiar Christmas story.  It's not like I even have to look, read the verses. 

I know the beginning, middle, and end by heart.  

Even without reviewing my teacher's book, I know last week was the story of the shepherds and Christ's birth.  The week before spoke of the immaculate conception as well as two angels visiting both Mary and Joseph. 

This week is the Magi.  Gold, frankincense, and myrrh.  Camels, elephants, tents, and a star lighting the way to the young Christ child's home in Bethlehem.

We count the wise men on the coloring sheet, discuss how it may have been more than three men even though they only brought three gifts.

The boys squint their foreheads hard when I ask them to remember back to Daniel and the lion's den.  I tell them this same Daniel may have been the one who taught some wise men in Babylon the prophecy of Jesus' coming birth so that the wise men generations later would continue to watch for the star.

My oldest son pops open a black marker.  Even to him, this is old news, not really interesting when there is arts and crafts lying in wait.

Then, I mention "mean ole King Herod" and the wise men's dream warning them to return home a different route because of the King's desire to kill the Christ child.  The squirming dies down a bit.  Even at four and five years old, little boys are just wired to hone in on the danger/adventure part of the story.

I have their attention, so I reread the passage where Herod lies to the Magi about his true motives.  When I ask if Herod really wanted to come worship Jesus, one boy's eyes get big.  "Noooooo." he solemnly whispers.  "He wanted to kill him."

And then my eyes fall on the next passage. 

For a moment, I had forgotten this part of the story--King Herod's response when  he realized the Magi had duped him:

"Then when Herod saw that he had been tricked by the magi, he became very enraged, and sent and slew all the male children who were in Bethlehem and all its vicinity, from two years old and under, according to the time which he had determined from the magi. Then what had been spoken through Jeremiah the prophet was fulfilled:

^'A voice was heard in Ramah,
Weeping and great mourning,
Rachel weeping for her children;
And she refused to be comforted,Because they were no more'" (Matt. 2:16-18).

As a teenager, I imagined the horror of thousands of children dead.  Years later when I read scholars believe Herod's henchmen may have slaughtered around twenty* children under the age of two, I was less appalled, almost even blew off the event in light of the other horrors of the New Testament. 

Twenty is such a small number in comparison to the other heinous murders Herod is guilty of (including killing his own sons).  Even the historian Josephus doesn't bother to even mention this small event--twenty insignificant Hebrew children in a tiny, insignificant town weren't a blip on his radar.

Twenty children.  Insignificant.  

Today, though, as I sit in too-small chairs with my class of little boys, when I think back to this past Friday's tragedy in Connecticut, twenty doesn't seem so insignificant any more.

My co-teacher and I pause for a moment, both of our hearts sinking in remembrance, filled with words we can't express in the presence of innocence.

I can't not make the connection between one senseless slaughter of innocents with another, even if two thousand years separate them, even if one will tie up all the newspapers and airways for months while another was virtually ignored in a world where only Roman citizens were considered important.

I want to ask God why.  Why did he warn Mary and Joseph but not the other mothers and fathers of small children living in Bethlehem? Why allow such senseless brutality--then. now.?

But with small eyes on me, I say none of this.  I don't know the answer.  I can't wrap my mind around this historical loss of this many children, much less the twenty children who have faces, names, personalities.

So, I swallow the lump in my throat and say what I do know.  

"God protects us every day.  Every second we live without harm is a gift from God.  He does not promise to always keep us from harm.  But His Word does promise that He will never leave us nor forsake us."

In this upcoming week as this sadness burdens our minds and hearts, we must cling to promises from the Word such as these.

He may not always shield us from heartache, pain, and death.  But He does weep with us and will never abandon us, even in the midst of such horrors that this life holds. 

"Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil, for You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me" (Ps. 23:4).

*Walvoord, John F., and Roy B. Zuck, The Bible Knowledge Commentary.  Wheaton: Scripture P, 1985.

Image: François-Joseph Navez (1787–1869) "The Massacre of the Innocents."