(Origianlly writen in 2012.)
The earth mourns and dries up, But for you who fear my name, the sun of righteousness shall rise with healing in its wings. You shall go out leaping like calves from the stall. —Malachi 4: 2, NIV As stipulated in the will, Nabot was given his father's vineyard as his inheritance. He grew up in those vineyards, watching how humble feet pressed the chosen grapes and watched how new batches of wine came to fruition slowly, carefully, and precisely, all in due time. They were renowned in the community for its commitment to quality over quantity —his father always taught him to forget about sales and make wine as if God Himself were to come down from Heaven to take a sip. Of course he had other investments; those he would use for taxation and sacrifices, whichever came first. But his wine was his one true offering, and he would never give up his vineyard for anybody.
So he was more than appalled when his king shamelessly pounced on his inheritance. Yes, he bowed and did every human protocol in order to get on the king's good graces. He was human, after all, and being so dangerously close to the king's view. His father always warned him that the heart is man's worst pollutant, and greed is only but the seed planted to sow evil. The king offered him a myriad of options for that land: money, larger and more productive lands far away from his kingdom, hired hands, women, maybe a life full of earthly graces. He wanted to turn the vineyard into a vegetable garden, in a place where only vines could grow and any perversions of the land would grow fallow! Why would Nabot lose his precious inheritance for the king's selfish whims? Would he tend to the land? Would he care for it like a newborn child? Would he nurse the land back to health when he was sick? Would he offer the fruits of this land to God? He would never have the land that was given to him! "The Lord forbid I give away my inheritance to you!", he said to the king, looking straight in the eye, filled with anger and zeal. And the king left, looking sullen and defeated. “Not so, my lord,” Hannah replied, “I am a woman who is deeply troubled. I have not been drinking wine or beer; I was pouring out my soul to the Lord. Do not take your servant for a wicked woman; I have been praying here out of my great anguish and grief.” —1 Samuel 1: 15 & 16, NIV Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with that person, and they with me. —Revelation 3:20, NIV For if, while we were God’s enemies, we were reconciled to him through the death of his Son, how much more, having been reconciled, shall we be saved through his life! —Romans 5:10, NIV The Lord appeared to us in the past, saying:“ I have loved you with an everlasting love; I have drawn you with unfailing kindness. —Jeremiah 31:3, NIV I am about to die. But God will surely come to your aid and take you up out of this land to the land he promised on oath to Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. And Joseph made the Israelites swear an oath and said, “God will surely come to your aid, and then you must carry my bones up from this place.”—Genesis 50:24 & 25, NIV But the tax collector stood at a distance. He would not even look up to heaven, but beat his breast and said, ‘God, have mercy on me, a sinner.' —Luke 18: 13, NIV The Pharisee rose from his chair and placed himself on the center pulpit. It was his Sabbath, his turn to speak. But before he would enlighten his willing congregation, he would utter a very peculiar prayer. The man was loved by everybody, even if his standards for holiness were crushingly high. So he would never invite any blind or crippled worshiper to his place of honor so they can appreciate the service better; but everybody understood that everything had to be perfect for Yahweh. And women could only be placed outside or in a separate room away from her husbands, but everybody understood since their ungodly figures would distract his —oh, he meant, the men's gazes away from Yahweh. Yes— his actions made sense in the eyes of the Lord, as he was to maintain the Glory close to the people's hearts.
He started: "Thank You, for I am not like the other people around me: liars, beggars, thieves, scoundrels, fornicators, or even tax collectors. I fast twice a week —especially during those horrible market days—, I pray three times a day with the window open so the nation can see an example of Your love, I tithe everything I have and I carefully calculate it so I never fall broke, and I teach my people how to be decent and holy human beings... unlike that tax collector sitting in the farthest pew, looking at the floor as he ponders Your judgment upon him." This prayer moved the church. They wept. They sang. They took his words as a badge of honor. But then came the tax collector, the thief, the liar, the scoundrel, the traitor. He was beaten by a zealot because he taxed too much oil and grain from his family's precious crops. Some widow spat at him for repossessing her home due to her late husband's lack of payments. In his command, he was the most efficient tax collector the Empire has ever seen...at the cost of his family's respect and his nation's dignity. But he was human, yes —he was completely human, and he still had a bit of humanity left. He still cries for what he does. He hated it at first. But then he liked it... he liked it too much. If only someone like God would help him through this mess! "Father", said the tax collector while he beat his breast, "I know You must hate me. I know You may want to kill me. Everybody hates me. And they are right! It may be too late for them to forgive me or to bring them back everything I pried from their hands. But please, forgive me! Have mercy on ME!" And as he left the temple, he smiled once again, as he never did in a long time. |
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