The Centurion…

He took off his helmet and set it on the stone pavement.  Then he unbuckled his breastplate and let it fall onto the stone floor.  Sitting on his cot, he unbuckled his sandals and rubbed his tired feet.  He could feel the fatigue of a long, strange day.   

He was a centurion, a Roman soldier in charge of a hundred men – theoretically.  In truth, his command occasionally shrank to less than fifty; a new influx of recruits might bring the total up to eighty.   

The centurion had seen his share of blood.  He enlisted in Caesar’s army at thirteen, fought the Barbarians at border outposts, stood guard over a government treasury in Philippi, and finally rose to be an independent commander.  Master of the whip, he knew how to rip the flesh off a man’s back, leaving him in agony but short of death.   It took a hard soul to persevere in hand-to-hand combat; a calloused soul was needed to crucify a man. 

The day started with word that a quick trial was going to take place at Pilate’s palace.  He sent some of his men there to guard the prisoner and went about organizing the rest of his troops for the missions of the day.  A messenger arrived from Pilate: he was sending over the prisoner for a whipping.  There were clear instructions: do not kill him, just bloody him up.  The centurion thought this over. Usually, he would let one of his squad leaders handle this, but he had just sent out his best man on another assignment.  No one on the guard detail was skilled enough yet to know just how much to beat a prisoner and leave him alive.  He would have to do this job himself. 

They brought the prisoner into the courtyard, and the centurion recognized him.  He was the man they called Jesus, the one who nearly created a riot the Sunday before.  Some of the Jews were spouting their usual non-sense about this Jesus being a Messiah, the one to deliver Israel.  “Not a chance while I am on duty,” thought the centurion. 

He gave the instructions to bend Jesus over a high-rounded piece of wood.  A rope was passed over the man and under the wood to hold him fast.  The centurion lifted the whip from a nail driven in the stone, unfurled it, and sent out the first lash.  The bits of pottery and stone weaved into the leather dug into the flesh.  The centurion pulled back on the wooden handle, and chunks of the man’s back flew across the courtyard.  The blood began to flow.  One of the new soldiers, a boy of fourteen, turned green.  He turned aside to throw up; but resumed his tough demeanor when his comrades made fun of him.  Thirty-nine times the lash struck Jesus’ back.  He screamed like any man would, but there was something different about him.  The centurion could not put his finger on it, but no matter.  Jesus was one more Jew who needed some sense beat into him. 

The soldiers untied Jesus.  Then the young soldier, the one who had thrown up, came out of the barracks with a purple cloak and thorny vine he was weaving into a crown.  The centurion saw the men put the crown and the cloak on Jesus and hit him.  Soldiers have to have their fun. 

They sent Jesus back over to Pilate, and the centurion thought that would be that.  He could hear a crowd shouting in the direction of the palace, but he could not make out what they were saying.  A messenger came back with instructions from Pilate: Release Barabbas (a notorious rebel), get the two other condemned men, come to the palace, and get Jesus, crucify Jesus and the other two, and make sure they are dead before sundown.   

The orders made no sense.  Whoever this Jesus guy was, he was no threat to the Empire.  Barabbas was trouble; he was the one they should be crucifying.  But a soldier learns not to question orders, not even from politicians.  Just carry them out.  And the centurion knew he would have to supervise this crucifixion.  All his squad leaders were out on assignments. 

He instructed his men, took charge of the detail, and went out to get Jesus.  He was weakened by the beating, no question.  The centurion was not sure he would even make it to Skull Hill, where the crucifixions were done.  He picked a man out of the crowd, a foreigner in town for the big Jewish feast, and made him carry the heavy crossbeam. 

When they got to Skull Hill, he issued the necessary orders and watched his men move swiftly to stretch the men out.  The two from the dungeon struggled; they all do.  But not Jesus.  The centurion could not tell if this was from his weakened state or that same thing that made him uneasy during the beating. 

The soldiers divided up the clothes and gambled for them.  It was how the young soldiers passed the time.  As the centurion, he could, of course, claim the best pieces for himself, but it was good to let young ones get their fair share. 

Jesus said things he had never heard from a man on the cross: “Father forgive them, they do not know what they are doing.”  What did this mean?  The two rebels on either side argued, then Jesus said to one, “Today you will be with me in paradise.”   

It got dark about noon, an eerie silent dark, unnatural.  He had to stay at his post.  There were more words from Jesus.  He spoke to his mother who was crying, to a young man, giving her into his care.  Then in rapid succession: “My God, My God, why have you forsaken me;” “I thirst (one of the detail offered him vinegar as a joke); “It is finished;” then, “Father, into your hands I commend my Spirit.” 

The ground shook; an earthquake.  The centurion was not a religious man, but he was superstitious.  The earthquake and the darkness seemed like a sign the gods were angry.  He wanted to tell Zeus he had nothing to do with this.  He looked and saw Jesus breathe his last breath, and his sigh seemed to cover all the darkness.  Words he never thought before came out of his mouth: “This man was a Son of God.” The centurion felt the moment was almost holy, strange like a portal had opened to another world. 

They had to break the legs of the other men; they died quickly.  The detail carried the men off to graves.  Jesus went into a new tomb, provided by a friend.  They worked quickly.  The Jews were so touched about their work after sundown on the Sabbath. 

Now, alone in his room, the centurion could not make sense of all he saw, all he felt.  What had made him cry a confession – a confession of faith?  Something in his heart leaned in the direction of this man Jesus.

Sleep would not come.  He heard the snores of the soldiers in the barracks next door.  His soul was wide awake.  What if Jesus was a son of God?  The centurion knew what that meant.  If you killed the son of a God, it meant you would hear from that God.  How long before he would find what the Father of this Jesus would do? 

On Sunday, he found out.

What Makes Jesus Sad…

Isaiah told us the Messiah (the one who would fix all the problems) would be a man of sorrows.  What does that mean?  It means, I think, that Jesus was and is a man who feels the pain of sadness.  What makes Jesus sad? 

I think it makes Jesus sad to see people hungry in the world when there is enough food to feed them.  In many countries where there is starvation, food is used as a political weapon.  Oppressive governments starve their opponents and feed their allies.  In these United States, there is more than enough food, but there are still hungry people.  Some people are hungry because they are foolish with money or life choices.  I still think Jesus wants them to have a meal.  Maybe I should give the equivalent of one week’s grocery money to my local food pantry to make sure there is an opportunity for people to eat.   

I think it makes Jesus sad to see his people fight over stuff that does not matter.  Does the color of the carpet really matter?  Does it really matter how you interpret Revelation?  Won’t we all find out what it means when Jesus actually comes back?  I think Jesus meant for us to be completely put under the water when we are baptized, but if you want to be sprinkled with water instead, I should not hate you.  I cannot help but wonder if Jesus does not sometimes weep over arguments that do not matter that are done in his name. 

I know it makes Jesus sad when he sends messages to people and they do not listen.  He wept over Jerusalem, because he sent prophet after prophet, and people did not listen.  I cannot imagine his heartbreak when he still sees people wrecking their lives because they did not heed the warnings. 

I think it makes Jesus sad when people are lost and lonely.  Jesus told a story about this, about a shepherd who lost one of his sheep.  His sadness motivated him to leave the ninety-and-nine sheep and look for the one.  Jesus talked about engaging the lonely: visiting people in prison, welcoming the foreigner, taking care of the sick.  If you think about it, heaven is the place prepared for us, so we are never lonely again.  Hell is a lonely place because God is not guiding people to connection. 

I think it makes Jesus sad when a woman terminates her pregnancy.  I know there are a lot of strong feelings about this.  I know some women feel deeply the pain of losing a child and I believe Jesus weeps with them.  I know other women who feel like terminating a pregnancy solves a problem.  They do not see the other problems that come later.  Jesus is sad for the loss of a child and for the soul damage that is done. 

I think Jesus is sad when people hate.  Hate brings division, conflict, sometimes war.  Jesus came to teach us to love as he loved.  It hurts his heart when people spew hate, especially when they spew it in his name.  I read a story just this week of a white pastor who wrote a hate letter to a black pastor in Fort Worth.  He signed it, “Cordially.”  I guarantee Jesus did not think the man’s comments were cordial, Christian, or kind.  I know I would hate to have my name attached to some of the things people say and do “In Jesus name.” 

I think it makes Jesus sad when people’s courage fails them.  His best friend, Peter, denied him three times and we are told after the rooster crowed, Jesus looked at him.  How many times have I made Jesus sad because I lacked the courage to do the right thing, the hard thing?  How many times has the Spirit said to me, “Fear not,” and I have replied, “No thanks, I think I’ll trust my fears more than I trust you.” 

I know this list could go on and on.  But there is an amazing promise, that one day, Jesus will no longer be sad.  One day, everything will settle out.  One day people will no longer make Jesus sad.  One day I will no longer make Jesus sad.  

We are told that in heaven, “He will wipe every tear from their eyes.  There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.”  What this means, of course, is there is no crying in heaven.  It means not only will you stop crying, but Jesus will stop crying too, because his children have finally come home.

Jesus and the Mobs…

Jesus had to deal with mobs of people frequently. 

When Jesus went back to his hometown, everybody crowded into the synagogue to hear him.  They had heard about his healing and teaching in Capernaum and wanted him to do something spectacular in their town.  But Jesus was more in a preaching mood that day and reminded them that God did not do miracles on demand to satisfy a crowd.  Then he got radical and reminded them God sometimes favored foreigners over his own people.  The crowd turned into a murderous mob in a hurry.  They drove him out of town, took him to a cliff and meant to throw him over it.  Luke cryptically tells us, “But he walked right through the crowd and went on his way.”  How did he do that?  He would not let the mob sin by murdering him. 

When Jesus cleared out the Temple of moneychangers and livestock salesman, people admired his boldness.  They saw his miracles.  The crowd kept coming back for more.  But Jesus did not trust the crowds.  He knew what was in human beings: a sinful selfishness that demands; a self-righteousness that refuses to see truth; and a resistance to submission to the will of God.  He knew every crowd is just a few steps from a mob. 

Once when Jesus was teaching a large crowd (5,000 men plus women and children), it grew late and stomachs were rumbling.  He told the disciples to plan a meal, and they told him they only had five loaves and two fish.  Jesus miraculously stretched that to feed everyone present and there were leftovers a plenty.  But the crowd turned into a mob.  They decided to make him King, whether he wanted to be a King or not.  It’s easy to see why they wanted him to be their King: food they didn’t have to work for and miracles for all.  Jesus escaped the mob and went to the mountains to pray.  Prayer was more important than the mob agenda. 

As Jesus’ popularity grew, mobs became a way of life.  A mob kept Zacchaeus from seeing Jesus, so he climbed a sycamore tree.  Jesus saw him and invited himself over for dinner at Zacchaeus’ place.  The woman with the bleeding issue fought her way through the mob to touch the hem of his garment.  She wanted to be healed and she was.  The mob told blind Bartimaeus to stop his cries for mercy, Jesus was too busy for him.  Instead, Jesus stopped, told him to come over, and he healed him.  Each time the crowd tries to shush the individual, Jesus seeks out the one and meets their need. 

In the last week of Jesus’ life, it was a mob that came to the garden to arrest him.  It was a mob that cried out to Pilate, “Crucify him.”  It was a mob that stood around his cross, waiting to see if God would rescue him.  All of these mobs had been orchestrated by leaders intent on discrediting Jesus, manipulating public opinion, and making sure their power stayed intact.   

When I think about Jesus and mobs, I realize he never participated in a mob agenda, he never trusted a mob with his mission, and he never incited people to violence.  Never.  Not once.  The mobs Jesus met were not pursuing his mission; they were trying to force their mission onto him.  Jesus understood there is no such thing as a righteous mob.   

If Jesus had been at the Capitol Building when the mob attacked, what would he have done?  Would he have tried to teach them?  Would he have moved through the crowd doing miracles?  I know for certain he would not have broken windows, assaulted police officers, nor posed for a selfie.   

I don’t know for sure what Jesus would have done.  Maybe he would have wept.  Maybe he would have said, “All they like sheep have gone astray.”  Maybe he would have left the mob and gone to pray. 

I do know for sure what Jesus did for the mob that stormed the Capitol.  He died for them.  He gave his life so their sins – all of them – could be forgiven.  He rose from the dead to give them a power greater than the power of the mob, the power of God flowing in their lives.   

Stop and consider the wideness of his grace.  Jesus loves everyone who was at the Capitol that day.  He loves the people of the mob, the Congressmen (Republicans and Democrats), and the Capitol police.  He wants good for them all. 

If you are a Jesus follower, truly a Jesus follower, then you must take seriously his words: “By this shall all men know you are my disciples: That you love one another as I have loved you.”  Was there anybody on Capitol Hill that you need to love as Jesus loves them?

Questions for the Wise Men…

I wish I could ask the Wise Men some questions: 

How did they know the star was about a King of the Jews?  Had they read the Old Testament?  Was there a certain portion of the sky they thought represented the Jewish people?  The Wise Men were a combination of scholars, priests, astronomers, and astrologers.  Did they recognize other stars being about the birth of other Kings? 

What made them decide to make the trip to see “The one born King of the Jews?”  It was a long trip, over 900 miles.  They would travel by camel or donkey over busy trade routes.  There were dangers along the way: robbers, sandstorms, hot days, and cold nights.  What was so compelling about this star, this sign, to make them want to make a journey that at best would take forty to fifty days?  How did they explain this to their wives: “Hey honey, we saw a star, and need to check it out.  The guys and I will be back in about four months.  Don’t wait on me for supper.”   

What did they talk about on the trip?  Did they go over the reasons why they were making the trip?  Were they excited the first week, but then just had to slog it out the next five weeks?  How much money did they have to spend to keep the camels and themselves fed?  When they passed through a town, how did they answer the question, “Where are you guys headed?”   

Why did they go to Herod’s palace?  They must have known of Herod’s reputation: great builder, but paranoid.  Were they so excited to be close that they were oblivious to the danger of setting off Herod’s fears?  Or did they intentionally throw a barb at Herod when they asked “Where is the one born King of the Jews?”  Herod wasn’t born King of the Jews, he was appointed by the hated Romans.  Couldn’t they see through Herod’s blatant lie: “Tell me when you find him so I can go and worship him too.”  Did they wonder if Herod was so intent on worshipping the baby, why he didn’t go with them? 

How did the Wise Men interact with the Chief Priests and the Scribes?  If they had access to the Hebrew Scriptures, wouldn’t they have known themselves that the expected Messiah was to be born in Bethlehem?  Did they find it odd that the Chief Priests and Scribes had not investigated the star themselves?  Surely, they had seen it too.  When they got the information about Bethlehem, did they invite the Jewish religious leaders to go with them?  Did they notice sideways glances and stuttered excuses? 

When they finished with the palace session, it was night.  They could see the star again and they were overjoyed.  Had they lost sight of it for a while?  How did it look when it appeared to move?  How did the star lead them straight to the house where Mary and Joseph made Jesus’ first home?  When they got to Bethlehem, did they have to explain who they were and why they had come?  Were people surprised? 

What was Mary’s reaction when they greeted her at the door?  Were they surprised at the humble house? How did they explain everything to Mary?  They saw Jesus with Mary; he was probably less than a year old.  How did they process this ordinary house with such a young mother and this baby they believed was King of the Jews?  What was it like to bow down to a baby who couldn’t even talk?  Did they worship every new King this way or was this the only time this happened for them? 

How did they pick out the gifts?  Certainly, they were gifts fit for a King: gold, frankincense, and myrrh.  All were valuable, all were precious.  How did Mary react when they shared the gifts?  Did they stay for awhile and talk?  They must have told Mary the whole story about seeing the star, making the journey, going to Herod’s palace, and seeing the Jewish scholars.  Did they explain to Mary the significance of the star that she surely must have seen?  And where was Joseph during all of this?  Was he off on some building project, trying to make some money for his little family? 

How long was their stay?  How did they tear themselves away from the baby?  Did they get to hold him?  What were their good-byes like?  Did they stay overnight?  Did they all have the same dream?  What was that like, when the first one said, “I had the strangest dream last night?”  Did the others pipe up and say, “Me too!”?  How did they avoid Herod’s men, and skirt around Jerusalem? 

What did they talk about on the way home?  How did they explain everything when they got back to wherever home was?  Did meeting baby Jesus change their lives?  Did they stop worshipping other gods?  Did they hear about Herod killing the boys in Bethlehem?   

Did they live long enough to hear about Jesus the teacher?  The miracle worker?  Did they hear about the crucifixion?  The resurrection?  Did it all make sense to them? 

When they died, did they go to heaven?  Did they meet Jesus again, seated at the right hand of the Father?  Did Jesus get up from his seat and say, “I remember you!”  Did Jesus say, “I never got a chance on earth to say ‘Thank you.’  Of all the people on earth who saw my star, you were the only ones who cared enough to come.  Thank you for having faith to make the journey, faith enough to listen, faith enough to obey a dream.  And guys, for the rest of human history, people will remember you, sing songs about you, have little figures of you, all because you came to worship me.”

Saying "No"

No one teaches a child to say “no.”  It comes naturally.  A two-year-old spouts “no” like a spring rain sprouts weeds.  If you could enter that child’s mind (shudder) you would find “no” is way to assert power, gain control, and set boundaries.  If you have a strong-willed child, you know the strength behind their efforts.  They can wear you down.

Every child, of course, must learn his or her “no” is not the final word.  I learned early.  Dr. Spock had not made it to rural Florida in my growing up years.  I vividly remember telling my mother “no” as a child.  She grabbed my father’s old belt and commenced to changed my “no” to “yes.”  Though it would take me years to understand, my mother was preparing me for life.  I needed to learn my will was not absolute. 

Yet as an adult, saying “no” is an essential skill.  I said “no” to some opportunities so I could say “yes” to others. I said “no” to two colleges that accepted me so I could say “yes” to the college that was the best fit.  I said “no” to fraternity life so I could avoid temptations I was not strong enough to handle (nothing against fraternities, I just knew my own weaknesses).  I said “no” to pastor a church plant so I could say “yes” to graduate work.

There’s nothing quite like marriage to drive home the need to say “no.”  If you want your marriage to be successful and happy, you must learn to say “no” to things you want and “yes” to things that build your relationship.  When children come, you have to say “no” to old ways of living so you can say “yes” to your kids.  Andy Stanley tells about unpacking all his recording equipment when his kids were small and realizing that habit took up too much of his time.  So, he packed it up, sold it, and invested that time with his kids.   He said “no” so he could say “yes.”

If you lead any kind of organization, “no” is an essential leadership tool.  I think about times we hired the wrong people at my work.  In almost every instance, I was uneasy about the hire.  I should have said, “no.”  Instead, I thought, “Let’s give them a chance.”  We did, they blew it, and I had to clean up the mess.

Wisdom is knowing when to say “no” and when to say “yes.”  Before I became pastor of my present church, a church interviewed me and wanted me to be their pastor.  I visited, but something didn’t feel right.  I prayed.  I felt no peace.  I had every logical reason to say “yes.”  I took the unusual step of attending a service there with my wife.  When the service was over, we got in our mini-van, looked at each other and said, “No.”  When my present church contacted me, I had same unease.  I remember praying through the decision late one night.  This time I had a peace, and we said “yes.”

“No” has a power no other word has.  It sets a boundary.  It refuses temptation.  It steers us away from danger.  “No” can break addiction.   

To say “no” and mean it requires courage.  It is easier to give in, avoiding all the begging and pleading to change our minds.  “No” may not open as many doors as “yes,” but the doors it opens tend to be the right ones.

Jesus said “no” to three temptations.  First, he said “no” to making stones into bread.  He said “no” to being controlled by his appetites (Ouch).  Next, he said “no” to throwing himself down from the pinnacle of the Temple.  He said “no” to putting on a show.  Finally, he said “no” when Satan offered him a short-cut: “I give you all the kingdoms of the world if you worship me.”  He said “no” to the easy way.

To what do you need to say “no?”  To whom do you need to say “no?”  Could it be your path to a better life starts with a simple two letter word: “no?”

Be Prepared…

A long, long time ago, there was a different version of “The Bachelor.”   

A father decided it was time for his son to be married.  Unlike most parents, he had not arranged a marriage for his son when he was a toddler.  The father was just enough of a romantic that he wanted his son to have the opportunity to fall in love.  He wanted his son to have a choice.

Certain conventions, however, had to be observed.  The bride would be selected from the family’s ancestral home.  Ten of the most attractive unmarried girls would be presented to his son, the future groom, and he would pick one to marry.

Word was sent to the old hometown.  Entertainment options were limited in those days, so the whole town was excited to see how this story would unfold.  The parents of the unmarried women were excited, for the father was rich and could be expected to pay a large dowry – perhaps as much as 30 or 40 cows!  The unmarried women were excited, because they knew all the eligible men in town – and had known them for years.  The idea of a new man in town, from a rich family, was like a dream come true.

There were ten unmarried women total and they began their preparations.  New clothes were sown.  Expensive perfume, some costing a year’s wages, was purchased.  Tips on how to be attractive were whispered among the women.  Advice was given by mothers and fathers, grandmothers, aunts, and cousins. 

A new message came: expect the groom-to-be to arrive on the evening of the next new moon. He would make his selection that night.  There would be an elaborate banquet.  Negotiations on dowry would follow and the wedding would held as soon as possible.

Once it was known the groom-to-be would arrive at night, every family realized the lighting was critical.  Some of the women used small lamps, so their less attractive features could be hidden in the shadows.  A few families gambled on their daughter’s charms and bought larger lamps so beautiful faces could be seen.

The day of the new moon arrived and the whole town seemed to spruce up for the arrival of the groom.  The ten unmarried women spent the day bathing, dressing, rearranging their hair, getting last minute advice from their Moms and Dads, and trying to remain calm.  In the late afternoon, the women gathered up their beauty paraphernalia and their lamps and made their way to the town square. 

People milled around waiting for the town watchman to cry, “Here comes the groom.”  With no moon, the stars sparkled like diamonds.  In the darkness, lanterns were burning, but as time went on, people let the lanterns die out, saving their extra fuel for the wedding banquet.

Nine o’clock came and went.  By ten-thirty, everyone was yawning.  A few people gave up and went home to bed.  People were laying on the grass of the town square, catching a few winks.  One by one, the ten unmarried women dozed off.

It was midnight when the watchman finally cried out, “The groom is here!  Everybody up!  The groom is here.”

Everyone startled awake.  The ten unmarried women grabbed their lanterns to light them, so they could see their last-minute beauty adjustments.  Five of the unmarried women had packed some extra oil, just in case.  Five of the unmarried women only brought the oil in the lamps.

The five unmarried women without oil said to the five unmarried women with oil, “Give us some oil!  We don’t have enough to relight our lamps.”  The five unmarried women with oil replied, “No way.  If we give you some, we won’t have enough! Get your own oil!”  They might have added, “We want the groom-to-be to see us!  You are on your own!”

The five unmarried women without oil groaned.  They knew this meant they would have to go to the oil dealer’s house, wake him up, plead for him to get them some more oil, pay extra, and hope they could make it back in time for the groom-to-be to pick them.  Off they scurried.

Before they could make it back, however, the groom did arrive.  The crowd gave him a great cheer.  He looked at the unmarried women, grinned, and said, “This is going to be a hard decision!  Come on, let’s go in to the banquet.  I’m starved and I want to eat something as I make my decision.”  In they went.

Five minutes after the door to the banquet room was closed, the five unmarried women came back with their extra oil.  They banged on the door: “Let us in!”  The groom-to-be was closest to the door.  He went over and hollered back, “Who are you?”  The reply came, “We are unmarried women who want to be in the contest!  We want to marry you!”  The groom-to-be looked at the crowd, rolled his eyes, and said, “I don’t think so!  I didn’t see you when I arrived.”

The five unmarried women went away, devastated.  Of the other group, one was picked to be the bride.  The other four were depressed at not being chosen, but at least, they told themselves, they had a chance.

Jesus told a story a lot like this one.  You might say the story sounds unfair.  But Jesus told us the uncomfortable truth we all want to deny but we all know is true: Some opportunities are really once in a lifetime.  So be prepared.  Be prepared for Jesus to come and work in your life.  Be prepared for his coming.  Be prepared for the opportunities God gives you.  No one knows when the opportunities will come.  We only know they will come.  Are you prepared?

Famous Town, Forgotten Town…

Ever heard of Sepphoris?  No, it’s not a disease, it’s a town.  In its day, it was a pretty important place.  Just off the main road between two important cities, it was full of government offices.  There was a military base there, which made everyone feel a little more secure.  Plus, it helped that more money flowed into Sepphoris than out. 

Sepphoris had a boom time.  Builders were busy trying to build enough housing to accommodate all the newcomers.  The houses were upscale, with extra features you wouldn’t expect in a typical home.  Naturally, there was some competition between the neighbors, a sort of comparison of your hot tub to my pool.

There was enough bustle in the town to make you feel like something was going on.  One of the finest theater companies in the region was located there.  The art scene was vibrant.  Everyone wanted to have an original work in their home.

Oddly for such a prosperous town, Sepphoris had a strong religious vibe.  There was strong attendance at religious gatherings to hear very educated people explain the ways of God to the crowd.

The city fathers of Sepphoris wanted to have an impressive main street, so they paved the road with material that would hold up over time and lined the street with an impressive colonnade.  One guide book called Sepphoris “the gem of the region.”  It was the kind of town that made all the “Best Places to Live” lists.

Ever noticed how every nice place to live has dumpy place to live nearby?  Sepphoris had a neighboring village, about four miles away, that was that dumpy place.  It wasn’t on the main road.  Directions to this town included, “when the pavement runs out, go on two more miles…” 

Nothing much ever happened in the dumpy town.  There was no art community, no theater, no steady flow of travelers through town.  Whoever founded the town forgot to investigate the water supply.  There was only one well.  Cisterns all over town had to catch every drop of rain and every trickle of dew.  Water was always in short supply.

This dumpy town was located on the side of a hill, so farming was tough.  Nobody made it big in agriculture.  A significant number of workers left town every day, commuting to Sepphoris.  They would do the jobs the Sepphorians didn’t want to do, and then would take their meager wages home. 

If you grew up in the dumpy town you knew everyone.  There were only about 500 people there.  It was the kind of place people got stuck in.  Some people were stuck there because it was their family home.  As their parents aged, they had to stick around to make sure they were cared for.  Other people came to work in Sepphoris and couldn’t afford the housing there.  They had to move to the dumpy town and commute.  Trapped in low wage jobs, they were stuck on the side of a mountain, dreaming of a better life.

It was tough to be young in the dumpy town.  There was nothing to do.  If you looked around and dreamed about marrying someone in town, there wasn’t much of a selection.  There might be ten people in your age range.  Five of those were off the table because they were first cousins.  Second cousins were fair game.  You chose a marriage partner less out of love and more out of availability.

There was one religious gathering place, but it was the kind of place you went to because you had to go, not because it all that interesting.

So, if you are God, and you need to do something, which place do you choose to work?  Sepphoris, right?  Best place to live, good religious environment, good economy, good roads for travel. 

So why have you never heard of Sepphoris?  God didn’t not show up there.  Instead, God showed up in the dumpy town.  You’ve heard of it – Nazareth.  God appears to a young woman in a dumpy forgotten town, and says “You will give birth to a son.  Call him Jesus, and he will be called the Son of the Most High.”  Nazareth is where Jesus grows up, where he learns to do the work of a carpenter.  He may have even worked in Sepphoris.

Interesting, Sepphoris is never mentioned in the New Testament.  It had everything going for it, except God didn’t work there. 

Maybe people who say “yes” to God are from the forgotten towns.  Maybe it’s because God is all they have.