Three Trees

A woman here in Kansas lost her parents at a young age. When she grew up, she still felt such grief, so she made a place for children to visit. It is called Three Trees. It is a place where children who are grieving can read books, play games, and process their grief. In this way, she tells each child that God is close—that they are not alone.

What is your translation of Christ’s words the Kingdom of God is near? How do you say it? How can you tell others that God is with them?

Chocolate

A Russian priest, years ago, told children that the kingdom of God was near, but he told them with chocolate.

Before glasnost and perestroika, there was little to eat in the city of Moscow. I came to Russia as a student and studied the Russian Orthodox liturgy with a priest by the name of Father Boris. He was a devout man, with long black robes and white hair. Despite the dilapidated state of his church and the extreme hunger that surrounded him, he was almost always smiling. With the crumbling of communism, he was surrounded by new believers. People poured into the church seeking God. One morning I saw him baptize eleven babies.

At the end of my visit, I gave Father Boris one hundred dollars. I thought that he could use it to fix up the church, repair the icons or paint the walls. He told me to come back the next day. When I returned he had two large shopping bags. He took me in an old van to the outskirts of Moscow, through the gates of an orphanage. When the van pulled to a stop, he got out and children surrounded him. They cried out his name. They had made him pictures and written poems for him.

Father Boris put his hands on their heads and blessed them, and then he pulled out the two large shopping bags. Inside, I saw that he had purchased one hundred Swiss chocolate bars. He handed one to each child. And he told them that this gift was from me—from Katya—from America.

The children had no parents. They were hungry. He gave them chocolate, and in doing so, he told them something much richer. He told them that he loved them, and, more importantly, that God was with them.

It’s not your fault

In his book A Long Way Gone, Ishmael Beah tells the true story of his life as a child soldier in Sierra Leone. He tells of the near starvation that forced him to join the Army, of the way he was taught to kill using a machine gun at the age of twelve, and of his horror as he watched women and children shot to death—their bodies mangled—their blood seeping into the ground.

After three or four years, Ishmael was taken to Freetown, where he was put in a rehabilitation hospital. There was a young female nurse there who listened to him. He suffered from migraines and nightmares; he would lash out at the smallest provocation and become violent or sullen. And she would listen. All this nurse said, over and over again, was It’s not your fault.

It’s not your fault. This was her way of telling him that God is near—that everything is OK—that the kingdom of heaven is near.

At first, her words infuriated him. Then they began to sink in, and he began to tell her more and more about the horrors he had seen and the horrors he had performed. And she would say it again: It’s not your fault.

Ishmael had to leave that place without ever telling her how much she meant to him—that he loved her. Later, he would wonder how she did it—how she listened to such horror with such patience. How could she stand it?

Jesus told his disciples that he would be coming after them. They were not responsible for the final outcome. They were to give the message and to minister as best they could, but the rest would be God’s doing. Only Jesus could clean up the mess. Perhaps this young woman knew her role. Perhaps that was what gave her the strength to listen, and to tell war-ravaged children that the kingdom of God is near.

The Kingdom of God is near

I am afraid these days. I watch the news and see a wedding party blown up in Baghdad as they were taking photos and I get scared.

When I get scared, I stick to routine. I harden my schedule with appointments and to-do lists, so that I feel in control. I wake up in the morning, look at my schedule, and think that I know what will happen to me that day. The truth is that I have no idea what will happen when I step out my front door, but I ignore the truth and cling to my schedule.

Consistency is good for human beings; it makes us comfortable. When raising a young child, all the books will tell you to set up a routine and stick with it. Naps at a certain time, stories and prayers before bed—whatever it is, make it consistent and your child will be comforted. Routine alleviates anxiety. It gives us the impression that we are in control of our lives.

But the truth is that we should be afraid, because we have no idea what might happen to us today. Like the bride and groom in that Iraqi wedding party, we might die just when the photographer says, “Cheese!”

The road of discipleship is unpredictable. There can be no scheduling—no plans. You cannot expect to encounter God at a certain time in a certain way. The road to discipleship belongs to God, and God alone has the map.

Jesus sent out seventy people ahead of him, to the towns where he was expected to go. And he did not prepare them. He did not give them schedules, itineraries, books to read, or speeches to deliver. He told them that they could not bring money. Can you imagine going on a trip without money? The first thing that I do, on my way to the airport, is to check and see if I have my wallet. Everything can be purchased, but you definitely don’t want to leave home without money.

Jesus told them not to pack. No extra clothes—nothing. They were to be completely dependent on their hosts for their survival. And they had only one phrase that they were to repeat to everyone they encountered:

The kingdom of heaven is near.

I have been trying to figure out what Jesus meant by these words for most of my adult life. And all that I can come up with is this:

God is close.

It is an extraordinarily simple message. It is a message which can be translated many different ways. There are many ways of telling people that God is with them.

No matter how people responded, whether they welcomed the disciples or rejected them, they were to say the same thing; the same message was to be delivered.
I guess they were to tell this to everyone because no matter what you do, God is still around. There is nothing that we humans can do to get God to stop being present with us. Invited or not, God is there.

In future posts, I will describe to you some of the ways in which modern-day disciples tell others that God is close.