reposting the Lent devotional entry I wrote for CRM:
The Calling of Levi the Tax Collector Mark 2:14-22
Fitting in. Finding a good fit. Doing what fits you best.
I admit it. I've looked hard for it: this magic of fit. I talk about it in regards to the places I work, the kind of church I attend, the people I spend time with. Yet it's clear that Jesus is addressing the things and people that don't fit. First, the Pharisees ask the disciples why Jesus is with the wrong people, with the oddballs and outcasts. Then, they want Jesus to tell them why his disciples aren't like other religious folks. It's all very confusing to them, and to us.
I've learned quickly that if you want more oddballs in your life, the best place to find them is somewhere that has something to do with Jesus. Start a Bible study, join a prayer group, or just walk through the doors of a church building, and strange people and stories will gush forth. I'm not talking about the oddness of believing what you don't see or any of the accompanying theology. Plain and simple, people who hang out with Jesus can be strange. Why?
“People who are well do not need a doctor, but only those who are sick. I have not come to call respectable people, but outcasts.” – Mark 2:17 (Good News Translation)
Though we may be unfamiliar with mending clothes and wine preparation, there is still a visceral familiarity in what Jesus teaches here. It's about attaching, filling, being where you belong—where the feast continues and the holes are completely patched. It's avoiding the tearing, bursting, and ripping of a bad fit, and it doesn't happen in the way one might suppose—with exact calculation and measurement. The only solution Jesus offers is to stretch.
My honest response to this is often along these lines: “I am a problem-solver, and I do not appreciate such an imprecise answer, Jesus. I prefer that you fix the funky people who come my way.” I would rather know a clean stitch for getting someone integrated into a community whether they are socially awkward, economically disadvantaged, or otherwise marginalized. I resist being stretched. I prefer to come up with other containers for that expanding wine.
But when I get over all that dodgy ambiguity, I recognize good news. Wait, there's a wedding? You mean you're bringing in people who don't belong? Hold on a second... that means there's no way to crash the party? No limit? No fitting in or being sent out. No waiting in line. No division. No shame. No disrespect. No fear.
It's the good news of a fresh wineskin, ready to stretch. It stretches us and it stretches for us.
QUESTIONS TO CONSIDER
1. What is the new wine—the unexpected, expanding good stuff—that Jesus wants to pour into you?
2. Where and how is God inviting you to stretch in these days leading up to Easter?
