Lakeport

 

Lakeport

Luke 5:1 “And it came to pass, that, as the people pressed upon him to hear the word of God, he stood by the lake of Gennesaret,”

     Saw a bit of a documentary on Billy Graham yesterday.  The ones were gathered about him.  He was popular too.  Lots of suits and ties.  Good haircuts and secret service when around the president.  He flowed through the masses right into the getaway cars.  On to another gig.  His calling I don’t understand so I don’t put him down.  Sounds like he was a great guy approved by many.  It was strange to see the streets filled and tents bursting.  Did I miss this?  Born in 1970, my rebirth was to happen years later.

     Jesus’ crowd knew little manners.  Desperation propelled them forward to plunge him under Gennesaret waves.  If not for Peter’s boat, the Master would have had to back float and teach those packed upon the bank.  He was popular.  He couldn’t help it.  Yet, for all their wrong reasons he put up with them.  As kindergarten children in the college class.  Beakers about the floor and dangerous chemicals spilled, it got really messy.  These people were low lifes.  Consequently rough tongues gilded their mouths, and the vernacular dropped about like drunk sailors on a shored sabbatical.

     Tax collectors and sinners.  The Pharisees knew what was politically correct.  Politeness in cordial society.  Certain calmness and reserved expression marked their robes as untouchables.  Afterall, they had it all together.  They were unshakable.  Religion ran their ranks and kept their flanks when they entered the temple.

     How amazing it must have been to see Jesus with the spade!  Driving deep into the fallow land dried by the lack of God’s new word, He unearthed balls of worms squirming in tangents.  As if the forgotten questions of God’s word were buried under Pharisitical concrete.  “Shut up and obey.”  Pressured down to enforce conformity, they walked in control.  Jesus identified the social unrest awaiting a tap to their violent souls awaiting change.

     He came at a time ripe with breakage.  The dam sprung leaks.  Soldiers marching upon her and shouting orders did not avail.  The reservoir’s power was whipped up by Brother.  Wind generated waves to destroy a barrier keeping the people away from their God.

     Multitudes followed him.  No cozy Cadillac taking Him to the next town.  On foot, He could not run.  His twelve men did run defense, but the huddle could only do so much.  A little woman of great faith pressed in to touch.  On her knees, she found a hole grasping the corner of His robe.  Lowering the paralytic through the roof’s hole.  Even John laying against His chest in the end at the table.  Jesus knew closeness.

     Touchy feely?  Well, our Jesus came in cloths.  No suit of armor to keep their soiled hands away.  He was handled.  People about Him knew His touch and they touched Him back.  Soft flesh under a garment woven specially by His mother who knew her own delicate heart waiting to be pierced.

     Lakeport.  Masses pushed Him to His death.  Smothered under the waves as once peaceful faces then carried torches as if He became Frankenstein’s monster.  Touch turned.  He sank.

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