Because you say, "I am rich and prosperous and I have need of nothing," and have not known that you are wretched and pitiable and poor and blind and naked. Rev. 3:17.
Have you ever met a person who took better care of the dogs in their life than they did of their children? The dogs never receive a cross word, never go hungry, and receive every attention known to canines at any hour of the day or night. No sacrifice seems too great. A friend of mine observed about one such situation: "I don't believe in reincarnation, but if I did, I would like to come back as one of Pat's dogs!" Dogs treated in such a way usually feel special and strut around assuming that they are entitled to such treatment.
At the opposite end of the dog spectrum are many animals I have seen in the course of my travels around the world. In places where the people are downtrodden and poor, dogs often get treated as the lowest of the low. Listless, underfed, and pitiful, they never wag their tails, and it seems that almost everyone kicks at them in order to add to their misery. The animals are dirty and shifty-eyed, cowering at the approach of humans.
The Laodiceans are like the pampered dogs. They assume that their prosperity and ease are rights that they are entitled to. As a result they have little sense that sin has relegated us all to a deep inner wretchedness that the outward marks of wealth and culture only mask. Yet the abused and mistreated in this world deeply feel the pitiful condition that the Laodiceans have hidden from themselves. They can hardly lift up their eyes to look at the face of another, much less pray for healing.
A middle-aged man worked in an office. Childhood molestations had left him vulnerable to the approach of sexual predators in academy and college. Although desiring to marry and have a family, he feared intimacy and emotionally ran for cover whenever a single woman tried to engage him in conversation. People thought he was a bit cold and were usually unwilling to go anywhere near the pain lodged in his heart. Finally a pastor saw through the guarded façade and invested many hours in a friendship that allowed the secrets to come out and be dealt with.
If we saw people as Jesus does, I think that we would be shocked by the miserable lives most live. Seldom nourished by the Word of God or the gentle touch of others, their spiritual lives are listless, and in the quiet moments of the night they indeed see themselves as miserable, poor, blind, and naked. If we have been touched and transformed by the grace of God, then we are called to go forth and be God's gentle healers of broken people. Would that life's Laodiceans were as aware of their own need.
Lord, open my eyes to those who are weak, whether or not they realize their weakness.
Have you ever met a person who took better care of the dogs in their life than they did of their children? The dogs never receive a cross word, never go hungry, and receive every attention known to canines at any hour of the day or night. No sacrifice seems too great. A friend of mine observed about one such situation: "I don't believe in reincarnation, but if I did, I would like to come back as one of Pat's dogs!" Dogs treated in such a way usually feel special and strut around assuming that they are entitled to such treatment.
At the opposite end of the dog spectrum are many animals I have seen in the course of my travels around the world. In places where the people are downtrodden and poor, dogs often get treated as the lowest of the low. Listless, underfed, and pitiful, they never wag their tails, and it seems that almost everyone kicks at them in order to add to their misery. The animals are dirty and shifty-eyed, cowering at the approach of humans.
The Laodiceans are like the pampered dogs. They assume that their prosperity and ease are rights that they are entitled to. As a result they have little sense that sin has relegated us all to a deep inner wretchedness that the outward marks of wealth and culture only mask. Yet the abused and mistreated in this world deeply feel the pitiful condition that the Laodiceans have hidden from themselves. They can hardly lift up their eyes to look at the face of another, much less pray for healing.
A middle-aged man worked in an office. Childhood molestations had left him vulnerable to the approach of sexual predators in academy and college. Although desiring to marry and have a family, he feared intimacy and emotionally ran for cover whenever a single woman tried to engage him in conversation. People thought he was a bit cold and were usually unwilling to go anywhere near the pain lodged in his heart. Finally a pastor saw through the guarded façade and invested many hours in a friendship that allowed the secrets to come out and be dealt with.
If we saw people as Jesus does, I think that we would be shocked by the miserable lives most live. Seldom nourished by the Word of God or the gentle touch of others, their spiritual lives are listless, and in the quiet moments of the night they indeed see themselves as miserable, poor, blind, and naked. If we have been touched and transformed by the grace of God, then we are called to go forth and be God's gentle healers of broken people. Would that life's Laodiceans were as aware of their own need.
Lord, open my eyes to those who are weak, whether or not they realize their weakness.
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