Sometimes people have the amazing ability to ruin my day. Let me rephrase that in the correct way: sometimes I’m amazed at how I allow people to ruin my day. Isn’t it surprising how much power we give other people, both in the negative and the positive aspects of our lives?
Ron and I recently came back from a trip to Denver Colorado. It was a business/vacation type of trip, but this was our first time with this particular group of people and we knew no one besides each other. To make things a little more difficult, it appeared that they all knew each other. So, each evening we put on our nametags, went to the “hospitality” room and hung out. There were times when we were surrounded by friendly people, other times when we made an effort to approach someone, but sometimes we felt as awkward as middle school students at a dance. It’s hard to describe the insecure feelings associated with “not belonging,” but it’s not always pleasant.
There’s been another time recently when I’ve felt the same way in my own home town. Sometimes decisions that should be made fairly are based on “who you know” or an unspoken set of rules known only to some. It’s been frustrating and discouraging but also a chance to introspect about some of my own flaws and inconsistencies.
It’s pretty easy to set up a “pecking order” in my mind. It’s not always a conscious thing, but if I’m honest, I have to admit that it’s there. If I ask myself whether I’ve treated people in the same way that has recently hurt me, I need to give an honest “yes”—and probably more times than I realize.
In my job, I’m lucky enough to be able to dig into some scripture passages that have been assigned to a certain Sunday. Today I was studying the scripture for August 15 which is Luke 7:1-10, the story of Jesus healing the Roman Centurion’s slave. It hit me pretty hard. First of all, you have an important Roman military person asking a Jew for help. He certainly could have had the help of fine physicians, but he asked for Jesus. Furthermore, he wanted to save the life of his slave “whom he valued highly.” This guy apparently didn’t understand anything about “pecking order.” The Centurion heard about Jesus, wanted to meet Him and asked the Jews for their help. The Jews, on the other hand, understood the system. They “recommended” that Jesus help this man because he had been useful to them in building their synagogue. “He scratched our back, Jesus, so you can scratch his.”
Jesus decided to go and do the healing because everyone is important to Him and faith like the Centurion had seems to catch His attention every time. Before Jesus arrived at the home, the Centurion sent friends to give him this message; “Jesus, I know that you don’t need to be here to heal my slave. I know your time is valuable, I understand authority and I know that you have it. Please just 'speak the word'—I don’t need to see the ‘abracadabra.’” Suddenly we see that the Centurion did understand who Jesus was and the position of importance that He held. And the slave received the blessing of healing.
I’m not sure where I’d place myself in that story. There are times I feel like the Jewish leaders who go around doing favors for each other based on the pay-off. There are times that I feel like the slave who survives only by God’s grace and the unconditional love from others. But, I’d really like to be the Centurion—aware of others around me, but unaware of the status that society has imposed upon them. And, like the Centurion, when I had “heard about Jesus” I would immediately understand that I could trust Him with all of life’s problems, small or great and be able to say to Him, “only speak the word . . .”
And Jesus would notice my faith . . . and healing would happen . . . and no one, no one could ruin my day.
