The Doppler Shift
The
Doppler Shift
Mark
2:15 “And it came
to pass, that, as Jesus sat at meat in his house, many publicans and sinners
sat also together with Jesus and his disciples: for there were many, and
they followed him.16 And when the scribes and Pharisees
saw him eat with publicans and sinners, they said unto his disciples, How is it
that he eateth and drinketh with publicans and sinners?”
I’ve heard the train. As it comes, it
sounds its whistle of warning. “Clear the tracks! I’m coming through.” Even if it could, it would not stop but
continues in momentum with lights forward.
Are we like the train? We sound the Gospel but no passengers at this
stop. Closer we come proclaiming the
Gospel as some great defense for our lain tracks. Our message justifies our steamed intrusion. Metal grinds against rust. Surely progress would the “untouchables” know
as we challenge them to read the graffiti on the cars. We cannot stop. They would soil the padded cars.
Baggage lines the wood walk. The depot attendant knows the schedule. “This one seldom slows,” he says as he checks
his watch again. Around the bend, She
comes again sounding a peculiar warning.
The growled roar precedes the cyclic steam turning. Compression then rarefaction, the whistle builds
then drops. Onlookers, in wonder,
rejected again.
What
sins would we run from? Or who would we
leave at station?
Jesus got His hands dirty. He shoveled the coal. He greased the bearings. He bled the lines and called for water. Working diligently, He prepared the cars for comfort. He willingly welcomed the
sick. It pleased Him to identify with
lepers. Out the windows, waving hands
joined in rejoicing at an upcoming station.
In fact, banners of white and red stretched across the way in hopes His
train would stop.
Do we follow our Master’s way? What taboo’s keep us out of the comfort
zone? Upon seeing their baggage upon the
board walk, do we steam right by blaring a Gospel which is only distorted in
their ears? Another obnoxious train not willing
to get involved?
This world is messy. If we wear our righteousness to blind the
ones in front of our light, we put them in danger of slicing them up with our
steel wheels. We should not run. Slowing the freedom train welcomes the
hurting ones to deliverance. We should
not be offended lest we forget our past.
“All aboard!” We should sing. Relief we sigh reserving the right to the
Ticket Master. Only He punches because
He’s been punched.
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