One day Sally slept in with a hangover and woke to find her youngest daughter drowned in the pool next door. When her son came to tell the pastor the news, he could barely contain his rage at her. He saw only a mother who had failed her child, and despised her. It was with great difficulty that he preached her daughter's funeral.
Then, before the funeral, Sally had the nerve to tell him she'd been aban¬doned by God. He assured her that "God loves you. He knows your pain. You're not alone." But he said it through gritted teeth, certain she neither heard nor cared.
After the funeral Sally stood by her daughter's cas¬ket crying. "There's no reason to live," she said. "No reason at all." But in the days after her daughter's death, Sally re¬pented. She didn’t go to church and confess her sins, but she turned. She turned from thoughts of suicide, self-pity and despair. She turned from addiction and a destructive life style. She turned every way she could.
Sally moved to a small town and found a job. Then she found a better one. She bought a car. She bought a house. She planted flowers. She even planted a tree. She made friends. She made peace with her family. Life wasn't perfect, but she'd turned. A month before her died, she told her son, that she was going to look for a church.
Sally died searching. And only after she died did Rev. Gulley hear how Sally's father deserted her when she was three. Her mother filled the void with a parade of temporary re¬placements, none of whom wanted Sally underfoot. She was discarded. Passed from aunt to cousin to grand¬mother and back again, staying only as long as their pa¬tience allowed. Shuffled from school to school, from town to town, unwanted, unloved and uneducated.
Sally married young, and poorly. Her husband abandoned her with three small chil¬dren, no job, and no diploma; just a struggle to survive. All her life she'd been neglected, and now she began to neglect herself. Bad jobs were followed by worse ones; a poor husband was replaced by abusive boyfriends. Al¬cohol and drugs sped her descent. It was then at thirty-two years old, the mother of five, unemployed, and living off the leftovers of neigh¬bors and relatives, that her daughter drowned in her neighbor’s swimming pool. 1
We read the story of Jacob, who had all of the privileges of growing up in a wealthy family, but that wasn’t enough. He cheated and deceived to get more. He didn’t care who he hurt, or whether they lived or died. Knowing the person he had been, there was no reason for him to be chosen for God’s blessing. He had certainly done nothing to earn God’s favor, yet God’s favor is what he received. Why, we ask. God’s behavior often becomes a problem for us, but maybe not.
As Rev. Gulley heard the story of Sally's life and considered what she had endured, and that she'd been seeking God, he said, “I couldn't believe God would invite Sally to his home, then slam the door as she stood at the thresh¬old.” As I thought about her funeral sermon, I thought that Sally had spent her life in hell and was slowly climbing out. How could I believe she would return to it? The longer he thought, the clearer the answer became. “God loved Sally far more than I. He'd been there when she cried herself to sleep as a little girl, when she was abused and rejected by those around her, when her efforts to find happiness led only to more misery. If the little I knew had changed my heart toward Sally, why was it so hard to believe God was even more gracious?
At the funeral I said, "Some people think God sits on a throne, holding fast to holiness and justice, waiting to judge us. But as I thought about Sally, I remembered another prodigal's homecoming. I real¬ized God is never content to wait on his throne. God was standing at the door watching for Sally, just as surely as that father watched for his prodigal. And while she was yet at a distance, God saw her, ran to embrace her and welcomed her home."
In the telling, I knew it to be true. Now I have a new theology. It is simple and clear. It is the most compelling truth I've ever known and the best news I've ever heard, ever believed, and ever told. I believe that God will save every person.2 Jacob didn’t climb to heaven on his ladder. God came down the ladder to meet Jacob, even as he fled the repercussions of his last dirty deed and God came to promise him the world.
The general attitude toward the world during the time of the apostle Paul was that it was evil. The Greek philosophers believed that the physical world was evil and only the spiritual world was good. The Jews had come to believe that the world had corrupted by Adam’s fall, so the only hope was for the life to come in another world. Paul believed that the trials of serving God in the present and the problems of all of creation were like labor pains, a prelude to the birth of something wonderful; to eternal life; an indescribable quality of life, to which the present troubles were incomparable.
Jesus’ parable affirms that judging and condemning evil people should not be our concern. His parable of the wheat and the darnel, makes it clear that we can’t tell the difference. We will certainly make a mistake if we judge, but God never does. And God’s standard isn’t who is bad and who is good, but who needs to be loved. Who needs a chance? God doesn’t just look at what we have done and who we are, but what we can do and who we can be. God chose Jacob to be a blessing to the whole world.
The difference in the attitude of judgment and that of acceptance is illustrated by the story of a peasant by the name of Joachim. Each day he would leave his hut and go about his chores. One day some mischievous boys taunted him, calling him names. When he retaliated, they threw stones at him. They were too fast for him to catch, so he picked up the stones they had thrown and put them into a sack he was carrying. When he got home, he marked the name of each boy on each of the stones. Each time it happened, Joachim collected all the stones and marked them.
Unfortunately, he lived in a time and place where everyone was given to throwing stones, but each time a stone was hurled, whether by a child or an adult, Joachim retrieved it and marked it. In time, Joachim became concerned that the people might steal into his hut while he was away and scatter his stones. So he decided to carry them with him wherever he went. Each day his load got heavier and heavier.
One day the king came to the village to appoint a new judge over the people. He chose Joachim to judge all matters that pertained to the king and the realm. Now dressed judicial robes, Joachim sat in judg¬ment over the people of the valley. Eventually, they all came before him for judgment. After the charge was read, Joachim reached into his sack and withdrew all the stones with the of¬fender's name written on them. Five stones—five years' imprisonment. Eight stones—eight years in prison. A year for every stone in the sack with your name on it. Each day there were fewer stones in his sack and fewer people in the village; and though the sack got emptier, it never got lighter. In time there were no more stones in the sack, nor peo¬ple in the village.
There were no bakers to bake bread or farmers to grow food. No cobblers to make shoes or tailors to sew clothes. There was no one left to talk to or feast with. And there was no revenue for the king. Joachim had meted out justice. It had given him sat¬isfaction but left him without joy. At last he decided that he must do something before it was too late, so he decreed that all the prisoners were to be set free.
The occasion was celebrated with a great feast in the village square. There was eating and drinking and much merriment among the people. Joachim passed freely and happily in their midst, exchanging greetings and well wishes.
But suddenly a man who bore him a grudge for the sentence he had received, shouted a curse at Joachim and followed it with a stone. A hush fell over the throng. Joachim reached down and picked up the stone. Once again, as he had done so many times in the past, he carefully marked it with the man’s name and put it into his sack. Turning slowly, he looked into the eyes of all the villagers. Then he lifted the sack and instead of slinging it over his shoulder, began to swing it around and around and then he hurled it as far as he could. 3
There are only two of Jesus’ forty parables that are explained. Scholars agree that the explanations are tacked on by the Gospel writer trying to purify the church and employ tactics that are inconsistent with Jesus. The explanations don’t exactly fit the parables and they have a judgmental and condemning tone that is inconsistent with the Good News Jesus preached. The true message of the parable reminded me of a little song called “Less of Me” that was more like Jesus than the explanation. I heard folk singer, Bill Staines, sing it and assumed he wrote it. When I looked up the lyrics, it turns out that it was written by Glen Campbell.
Let me be a little kinder, let me be a little blinder
To the faults of those about me, let me praise a little more.
Let me be when I am weary, just a little but more cherry,
Think a little more of others and a little less of me.
Let me be a little braver when temptation bids me waver,
Let me try a little harder to be all that I should be.
Let me be a little meeker with the brother who is weaker,
Let me be more of my neighbor and a little less of me.
Let me be when I am weary, just a little bit more cheery,
Let me serve a little better those that I am striving for,
Let me be a little meeker with the brother who is weaker,
Think a little more of others and a little less of me.
Let me be when I am weary, just a little bit more cheery,
Think a little more of others and a little less of me. 4
1. Philip Gulley & James Mulholland, If Grace Is True, HarperSanFrancisco, 2003, pp. 2-8.
2. Philip Gulley & James Mulholland, If Grace Is True, HarperSanFrancisco, 2003, pp. 2-8.
3. John R. Aurelio, Fables for God’s People, Crossroad, New York, 1988, pp. 25-27.
4. Words and music by Glen Campbell, © Beechwood Music/BMI