No fancy words today.
Read the passage
Follow the link to a song. Play the song
A picture is worth a thousand words.  Let the art speak.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g6fheuBf0Pk

Luke 7 . . .One of the Pharisees asked him over for a meal. He went to the Pharisee’s house and sat down at the dinner table. Just then a woman of the village, the town harlot, having learned that Jesus was a guest in the home of the Pharisee, came with a bottle of very expensive perfume and stood at his feet, weeping, raining tears on his feet. Letting down her hair, she dried his feet, kissed them, and anointed them with the perfume. . . .

Forgiven Much; artist Keith Johnson

 
     "He looks just like his daddy!"
     A longtime family friend approached and began to play with our five-month-old baby, Lincoln. There's nothing quite so powerful as a baby to attract people, and Lincoln has capitalized on his natural magnetism by learning an amazing trick. He will make eye contact with people passing by, smile, and lure them in with a low chuckle. No one can resist the charms of a giggling baby who is looking right at them.
     "He's adopted," I responded with my well-rehearsed speech, " So technically, I'm not sure if he looks like his daddy.... "
      "You know, eventually you won't have to tell that story," my friend reassured me, "Our son is adopted, and we used to tell everyone,' this is not his real dad.' We would tell people how he was brought into our family . . . Eventually we figured out that  we don't need the story."
      As I walked into the doctor's waiting room and took a seat, Lincoln immediately started in, looking at everybody in the room, giggling, smiling. Like a skilled fisherman, he quickly had hooked several of the adults in the room.  And then came the same comment, this time from a total stranger.
     "He looks just like his daddy."
      I almost started into my speech, then hesitated. I have no back-up speech for this situation, so I blurted out an answer.
     "He can't help it," I said, "He spends a lot of time with us, he's starting to look like us. It's like people and their dogs, if you hang on your dog to long enough, you start to look alike. That's why you got to choose your dogs carefully."
      I'm sure that comment made very little sense to the people who were listening. In fact, I don't think that the 'people look like their dogs' response is any better than the 'he's adopted' speech.  (note to self, come up with a better response!)
     As we walked back into the doctor's office to weigh and measure this little bundle of energy, the thoughts begin to tug at my mind. The longer Lincoln stays with us, the more we have in common. It's true, we even begin to look the same. He is learning to smile like me. He is learning to laugh with me. He spits his peas on me, and falls asleep contentedly in my arms.  He thrills when my whiskers brush his belly.  He coos and sighs when I hold him close. The fact that we do not share genetics is being overshadowed by a growing truth. Who he is and who I am are inextricably intertwined. Every day that passes, the reality that he is not my biological son fades under the growing awareness that he belongs to me. He's mine. And I am his. His adoption is fading into a footnote; it is no longer the title of our story.
     The Bible tells me that I am God's adopted son.  I don't truly understand that. For most of my life, I have believed that the scripture passages that referred to God as my Father are simply a back up plan for those unfortunate souls we don't have a dad. Or perhaps some mysterious spiritual/legal necessity of my salvation.  I am coming to learn that salvation is less about agreeing with correct doctrine, and more about being fathered by God. Like any adopted son, I enter the relationship overwhelmed by the reality that I do not belong. But I'm learning that as time passes, I am looking more and more like my Dad. It is unavoidable, it is inevitable, I've been called into adoption by my Heavenly Father.  Jesus did not consent to the cross so that I could recite the sinner's prayer.  He suffered, died, and rose so that the Father could sweep me into his arms once again, hold me close and whisper to me.
     Every day that passes, the reality that I am adopted out of sin and into life fades under the growing awareness that I belong to my Father. I am His, and He is mine. My adoption is evaporating into a footnote, it is no longer the  title of my story.
     And I long for the day when others say of me, "He looks just like his Father."

(Note to self- new response when they say 'Lincoln looks just like his daddy.' )

      "That's because he is mine."


John 1 12 Yet to all who did receive him, to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God— 13 children born not of natural descent, nor of human decision or a husband’s will, but born of God.

Romans 8 14 For all who are led by the Spirit of God are children of God.15 So you have not received a spirit that makes you fearful slaves. Instead, you received God’s Spirit when he adopted you as his own children. Now we call him, “Abba, Father.” 16 For his Spirit joins with our spirit to affirm that we are God’s children.

     On august 23, 1973, Janne Olssen entered a bank in central Stockholm.  On leave from prison, Olssen attempted to hold up the bank. Two Swedish police responded,  entering the bank. Olssen shot one of them, and captured the other, instructing him to sit in a chair and sing a song. Olssen took 4 hostages and a standoff quickly ensued. Olssen's demands included the presence of his friend Clark, a large sum of money, 2 guns, bulletproof vests, helmets, and a fast car. Clark  was a lifelong criminal with a rap sheet of violent crime and robberies starting at age 16.
     Police negotiators decided to bring Clark in to help establish a line of communication, but the situation did not end there. The two criminals retreated to the safety of the large bank vault, taking their hostages with them.  At one point, Olssen called the prime member of Sweden, threatening to kill his hostages, grasping one of the women by the throat. He hung up the call as she screamed in terror.
     Police drilled a hole in the ceiling of the bank vault, gaining access to the space and creating more tension.  Olssen actually fired shots into the new access point, injuring policemen and threatening to kill his hostages. In spite of the threats, police eventually did use gas on the robbers, and in the end the two men surrendered without harming their captives. Five long days of terror came to an end in a cloud of choking smoke.
     This riveting drama became the first study in what psychologists call capture–bonding, or Stockholm Syndrome. This  psychological phenomenon is exhibited when hostages identify with their captors, sometimes to the point of defending them. These feelings are generally considered irrational in light of the danger or risk endured by the victims. While it is an urban myth that any of the hostages later married their captors, it is true that they felt sympathy for them.  At one point in the standoff, hostage Kristin Enmark phoned the prime minister again, letting him know that she was very displeased with his attitude.  Kristin asked him to let the robbers and the hostages leave. Several of the hostages would later become friends with Olssen, and testify in his defense at his trial.
     Like these unfortunate hostages, all of us are victims of a violent criminal.  He is no bumbling would-be bank robber. He is vicious, merciless.  His sadistic hatred of God extends to we who are image bearers of God's likeness.  The Bible tells us that he prowls about like a roaring lion, seeking whom he may devour.  And as bizarre as it seems, I see a Spiritual Stockholm syndrome weaving its way among his broken victims.  This process of capture-bonding involves more than simply emotionally connecting with the criminal. The hostages involved in the Stockholm robbery also expressed a fear of the very police who had arrived to rescue them. Like Adam and eve in the garden, we find ourselves hanging out with the snake and hiding from the Father.
    Research in the area of Stockholm syndrome is frequently applied to domestic abuse victims. The woman in this situation loves and defends the man who beats her night after night. She agrees with her abuser that the violence is her fault, that his fists are right in swinging, that he is really a good man. She despises herself just as he despises her. This perception is so powerful that when friends, family, or even law enforcement officers try to protect her from her violent partner, she resists them.
     God help us, we are more than captives! We are truly held hostage, our hearts and minds turned away from the creator and towards our captor.  The good news? Rescue is coming. Restoration is sweeping in.  Just as Satan is no inept small time criminal, Jesus is no Barney Fife. Our rescue is more than protection from the savages of the evil one, it is a total renovation of our minds and hearts. At the cross Jesus crushed the enemy's grasp on my neck, but his Death was more than just powerful assault on Satan.  Like any great rescuer, Jesus swept me up into his arms, to restore my wounds. Looking back, I have spent far too much of my Christian life identifying with my captor and his vicious ways.  And likewise, I have wasted years fearing my rescuer.

I Timothy 1 7 For God has not given us a spirit of fear and timidity, but of power, love, and self-discipline.
Romans 8 15 So you have not received a spirit that makes you fearful slaves. Instead, you received God’s Spirit when he adopted you as his own children." Now we call him, “Abba, Father.”

Rescue is coming.

16 “To what can I compare this generation? They are like children sitting in the marketplaces and calling out to others:
17 “‘We played the pipe for you, and you did not dance; we sang a dirge, and you did not mourn.’
                                                                                                                -Matthew 11

     He prances, he dances, he does whatever I want! He plays my little games and approves of all my particular views. Do you want a vicious god who will help you judge all of those heathens out there? Presto! He slices, he dices, he makes Julianne Fries! Want a gushy god that hugs everybody and doesn't ask anything of us? Bada- Bing! Want a god who loves your favorite pet doctrine? Bada-Boom! A god who prefers the Bible translation that you read? Shazam! A god who dislikes all the people that keep bothering you? How about a racist god?
     Then you need god in my pocket©! Convenient, portable, ready when you are, this little god will serve all of your purposes and more. Pull him out when you need him, fold him up and pack him away when he isn't necessary! This god is soooooo good for your self esteem! Did you know that he actually belongs to your denomination?
      Do you want him to approve of public schools or private schools?
     "My god is a homeschooler," you say? Just let him know!
     What's your political affiliation? Your pocket god is a card carrying member! He loves pristine nature and drives a Prius to minimize his carbon footprint, if you're so inclined.  Or perhaps he's tough on defense and advocates limited government. That's the beauty of the god in my pocket©.
     You need an attitude adjustment. You need a little assertiveness training! With god in my pocket© , you can be sure that the way you see the world is the right way. What's your favorite verse? That's his favorite verse too! Who is your favorite preacher? What do you think about drinking alcohol? Social Justice? Dancing? Evolution? The central importance of marriage? The unimportance of marriage? The amazing thing is, god in my pocket© agrees! With every one of those!
     Struggling through difficult times? Just pull your little god out and blame everything on him! Let him know what a disappointment he has been, really let him have it!

      He is ready to play all of your little games, just order today!

(god in my pocket© did not make the universe. god in my pocket© is not the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. god in my pocket© did not inspire the Bible. god in my pocket© did not send his Son to die for you. god in my pocket© is a tiny figment of your imagination, and cannot do anything for you. god in my pocket© assumes no responsibility, stated or implied for outcomes when you pray. Any views or opinions presented in this advertisement are solely those of the author and do not necessarily represent those of the Creator of the Universe. god in my pocket© accepts no liability for the content of this advertisement, or for the consequences of any actions taken on the basis of the information provided.)

 If I failed to step on your toes by forgetting to include your particular area of interest, I apologize.