Trampled!

One Sabbath, when Jesus went to eat in the house of a prominent Pharisee, he was being carefully watched. There in front of him was a man suffering from dropsy. Jesus asked the Pharisees and experts in the law, "Is it lawful to heal on the Sabbath or not?" But they remained silent. So taking hold of the man, he healed him and sent him away. Then he asked them, "If one of you has a son or an ox that falls into a well on the Sabbath day, will you not immediately pull him out?" And they had nothing to say. When he noticed how the guests picked the places of honor at the table, he told them this parable: "When someone invites you to a wedding feast, do not take the place of honor, for a person more distinguished than you may have been invited. If so, the host who invited both of you will come and say to you, 'Give this man your seat.' Then, humiliated, you will have to take the least important place. But when you are invited, take the lowest place, so that when your host comes, he will say to you, 'Friend, move up to a better place.' Then you will be honored in the presence of all your fellow guests. For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and he who humbles himself will be exalted." Then Jesus said to his host, "When you give a luncheon or dinner, do not invite your friends, your brothers or relatives, or your rich neighbors; if you do, they may invite you back and so you will be repaid. But when you give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind, and you will be blessed. Although they cannot repay you, you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous." -Luke 14:1-14

Ok, so imagine this. You are "The Man." You are a leader who everyone looks up to, and adores. You know just about everything, and if someone knows something more, you learn from them until you know what they know. You're not just a leader who simply is there, but you're also, "The Man." You hear about someone who has been causing trouble for those under you, those you care about. So what do you do? You decide to ask him over, along with all your people, so if he does something wrong, you can point it out, and lay the matter to rest. So far, the meal has gone well, no obvious fau pax from this troublemaker, and everyone is waiting to see who is going to make the first move, you, or Him. You look over, and see that he's eyeing the man sitting across from him at the table. "How did he get here?" you think, looking him over. You can see that he's deformed, it looks like he has bags of water in his skin. You're about to say something when this troublemaker looks straight at you. Since you're sitting at the head of the table, and he's sitting far down the table, at the place reserved for those who you don't want around you, he speaks up. "Is it lawful to heal on the Sabbath or not?" he says. You pause, trying to think of an answer. You know it's unlawful to work on the Sabbath, but what could he... Suddenly, you look up, and see this troublemaker reaching over the table, grasping the man's shoulder, saying something quietly to him, nodding, and letting go. You're brain is reeling, when all at once, the deformed man leaps to his feet... and is perfectly normal! The once-deformed man runs out of your house, worshiping God, and praising him for healing! You're about to confront this troublemaker, you already have your arguments planned out, God could have healed him anytime, why now? If you're really from God, why would you break this sacred tradition? You are just a troublemaker like is said about you... why should we listen to anything you say? We listen to God. As you open your mouth, the troublemaker looks up again, catches your eye, and begins to speak. "If one of you has a son or an ox that falls into a well on the Sabbath day, will you not immediately pull him out?" Again you fall silent... without even getting more than a squeak out. How do you respond to this? This man just trampled one of you most sacred traditions... how do you respond? You can tell that all of your people are dumbfounded, and as you struggle to find something to say, the troublemaker speaks again. "When someone invites you to a wedding feast, do not take the place of honor, for a person more distinguished than you may have been invited. If so, the host who invited both of you will come and say to you, 'Give this man your seat.' Then, humiliated, you will have to take the least important place. But when you are invited, take the lowest place, so that when your host comes, he will say to you, 'Friend, move up to a better place.' Then you will be honored in the presence of all your fellow guests. For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and he who humbles himself will be exalted." Confused, it takes a couple seconds for you to realize what he said, then you remember the time when you were younger, and that you thought that you were the person who they had saved the best seat for... and only found out after the meal began that you were wrong. Standing up, you had to sit on the other end, in the broken chair. Glancing around the table, you saw the same look of chagrin creeping around the table... the same look that must be on your own face. Suddenly, you have an idea. What if you say that we're all equals around the table? Surely then... The troublemaker speaks again. "When you give a luncheon or dinner, do not invite your friends, your brothers or relatives, or your rich neighbors; if you do, they may invite you back and so you will be repaid. But when you give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind, and you will be blessed. Although they cannot repay you, you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous." All at once, the reality of the situation crashes down on you. You could have seen it in his eyes the whole time, but you chose not to. Gulping, you realize that this "troublemaker" is a greater man than you. He took the seat at the least respected end of the table, and now you can't do anything about it, everyone has turned toward him. They're listening to him, and you even hear someone saying something to the troublemaker. The troublemaker responds, and launches into a story about feasts, friends, streets, gesturing to illustrate points, sometimes laughing, sometimes dead serious. But for you, there is only that realization in your mind that he is both greater and closer to God than you, and he just trampled over some of your greatest traditions. He has turned the dishonorable part of the table into the focal point, and relegated your position to nothing. He has taken the sacredness of not working on the Sabbath, and turned it into an illustration of how much God cares for the people. There is only one question running in your mind now. What am I going to do now that I know? What am I going to do?