Monday, March 21, 2016
And Jesus entered the temple and drove out all who sold and bought in the temple, and he overturned the tables of the money-changers and the seats of those who sold pigeons. He said to them, “It is written ‘My house shall be called a house of prayer,’ but you make it a den of robbers.”
I had an uncle, my dad’s second-youngest brother. His name was Curtis, but everybody called him, Baby Jack. He was something—handsome, charismatic, and full of fun. For a child, he was always good for loose change, you know, the kind that allows you to run to the corner store and splurge. But when you sidled up to him with a plan in mind, his opening comment was, “What you selling?”
It was a game. We had to make up some silly outlandish story of something we were selling to revolutionize the world, and then when we finished, laughing, he would hand off a quarter or two.
But the question, what you are selling, in the context of Jesus’ church is different. What are we selling? What is it we want people to buy? And would Jesus drive us out of “the Temple” or would He be pleased with the offerings available to those who come into the church?
Beloved, as His church, we ought to sell nothing. Instead, just as He did, we ought to give away the gift of love and grace, mercy and forgiveness, and hope and the good news. May we, this Holy Week, be a place of worship and prayer, and may our “wares” be only what the Savior offered, shalom in abundance.