All they did was sin even more, rebel in the desert against the High God. They tried to get their own way with God, clamored for favors, for special attention. They whined like spoiled children, “Why can’t God give us a decent meal in this desert? Sure, he struck the rock and the water flowed, creeks cascaded from the rock. But how about some fresh-baked bread? How about a nice cut of meat?” [Psalm 78:17-20 (MSG)]
“You are my friend, you are special,“ sang Mr. Rogers on the children’s television show. Indeed, made in the image of God and saved by His son, I am special. None of us, however, are any more special or deserving than the other. Our recent trip to the Canadian Rockies reminded me that we often forget that simple fact.
Yesterday, I wrote of the tour director who insisted that her group was so special they should be allowed passage on a closed road. While visiting the Columbia Icefield, I witnessed another tour director much like her. His group had joined ours on an “ice explorer” vehicle that carried us across a glacial highway so we could walk on the glacier. We were allotted twenty minutes to experience the icefield firsthand. It was raining and treacherous on the ice but, even on a sunny day, twenty minutes standing on a glacier is more than ample time. This guide, however, demanded more time for his group. Our driver patiently explained that only a limited number of people are allowed on the ice at one time, other groups were waiting for their ride, and that she had a schedule to keep. The guide argued that his group was special and deserved special treatment. As departure time approached, the driver politely asked him to gather up his group but he refused and blocked the door. She had to shove her way around him to shout for them to come back.
During our tour, I had plenty of other opportunities to see people who seemed to believe they deserved special treatment. Apparently standing in line, sharing the trail, staying on the walkways, not picking wildflowers, waiting one’s turn, and prohibitions about smoking and littering did not apply to them. I heard unreasonable demands, saw a fair amount of arrogance and was shocked at how rude people can be to those serving them. My observations made me question whether I, too, tend to act more deserving than others. Like the Israelites in today’s verse, do I ever whine, complain or demand special concessions, attention or favors? Sadly, there are times I’m guilty as charged.
We should be cautious when we seek special treatment. James and John wanted special seats in Jesus’s kingdom. Aside from making the other disciples angry, they were reprimanded by Jesus who reminded them they are to be servants who serve rather than rulers who expect to be served. In Scripture, we find many references to things that are special—abilities, gifts, ministries, offerings, blessings, days, feasts, possessions and messages—but none about certain individuals being more deserving or special to God than others. Remember, it was Jesus—the only truly special man—who washed the feet of His disciples! Let His example of humility, kindness and love guide us when we deal with our brothers and sisters—all of whom are special in His sight.
Think of yourselves the way Christ Jesus thought of himself. He had equal status with God but didn’t think so much of himself that he had to cling to the advantages of that status no matter what. Not at all. When the time came, he set aside the privileges of deity and took on the status of a slave, became human! Having become human, he stayed human. It was an incredibly humbling process. He didn’t claim special privileges. Instead, he lived a selfless, obedient life and then died a selfless, obedient death—and the worst kind of death at that—a crucifixion. [Philippians 2:5-8 (MSG)]
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As we watched the helicopters fly through the sky, we could see the water buckets hanging under them. Once the copters were in position, hoping to extinguish the forest fire, the crews would open the dump valve and empty water on the flames below them. The helicopters flew back and forth all afternoon as they refilled their buckets from the glacial lakes. If the helicopters are too low or slow in dropping the water, the water will be too concentrated to work effectively and, rather that put out the flames, the rotors’ downwash will intensify it. Even though those buckets can carry as much as 2,600 gallons of water, to those of us on the ground, it seemed a little like a mop bucket was being used to extinguish a house fire. Nevertheless, the firefighters continued their valiant fight against the blaze.
You have heard that it was said, “Love your friends, hate your enemies.” But now I tell you: love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may become the children of your Father in heaven. For he makes his sun to shine on bad and good people alike, and gives rain to those who do good and to those who do evil. [Matthew 5:43-45 (GNT)]
When writing yesterday’s devotion (“It’s Curtains”), I couldn’t help but feel a brief pang of regret because I never had those conversations with my parents before they died. The thoughts, “Please forgive me. I forgive you. Thank you. I love you,” may have been assumed but never were spoken. I was fifteen when my mother succumbed to cancer. I saw her that day in hospital but, when I walked out that afternoon, I was sure I’d see her again when I visited the following day. I never thought the next time I saw her she’d be lying in a casket. When people would say, “She looks so good,” I wanted to shout at them and say, “She doesn’t look good; she looks dead!” Five years later, I was in the same funeral home and surrounded by many of the same mourners. That time, it was my father’s body lying so still in the front of the room. Two day earlier he’d been hunting pheasants when his heart failed; he died in the middle of a corn field. I’d seen him just a few weeks before that and never thought our farewell was the final one. Did my parents know how much I loved them? Did they know how sorry I was for my failings? Did they know I forgave them for theirs? Did they know how thankful I was for the life they gave me?
Immanent and omniscient, God is everywhere and can see everything. When you think about it, that’s a bit disconcerting. Is God a voyeur who likes peeking at us in our most intimate moments? Is He similar to the paparazzi who try to capture celebrities in their most embarrassing ones? Like those ever-present security cameras or the traffic cop with his radar gun and ticket book, is He hoping to spot us doing something wrong or catch us breaking His law? My life is boring; why would God be interested in me?
Devotions of the Heart 