Greater Love Has No One Than This...

Lance Corporal Harry J. Simmons, Jr., USMC

Echo Company, Second Battalion, 1st Marine Division, III MAF

died, 8 April 1967, Quang Nam Province, Republic of Vietnam

 

To begin with, allow me clear up what Memorial Day is NOT:

 

1.  It is not a 3-day weekend.  It is 1 day, held once a year on the last Monday of May.

 

2.  It is not the 27th of May.  Since 1968, Memorial Day has been observed on the last Monday of May in accordance with the Uniform Monday Holiday Act of 1968, by which Congress moved it, along with Washington's Birthday, Columbus Day and Veterans' Day (which has since been restored to its traditional date) to be always celebrated on a Monday, in order to provide more 3-day weekends for federal employees (not kidding).

 

Memorial Day - originally called Decoration Day - had traditionally been observed on the 30th of May.  (And Washington's Birthday - not surprisingly - had been observed on his actual birthday - January 22nd.  A dozen states have actually rolled up the observance of ALL Presidents' birthdays into this one day, calling it "President's Day" instead of Washington's birthday.  By doing so, this basically puts Washington on the same level as Richard Nixon.  But I digress...)  Decoration Day had its origins following the Civil War, and the purpose was to honor the fallen of that war.

 

3.  It is not celebrated in honor of the Indy 500.

 

4.  It is not Veteran's Day.  Veterans' Day (formerly called Armistice Day in observance of the end of World War I, which officially took place at the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month of 1918).  Veterans' Day honors all those who have served in the defense of our nation.  Memorial Day honors those who have died in defense of our nation and its Constitution.

 

As we observe this day, many of us have faces to put with the host of Americans who have made the ultimate sacrifice in our stead.  For me, one of those faces belongs to a 20-year-old Marine named Harry Simmons.  Harry was my best buddy's big brother - a guy we looked up to for a number of qualities, not the least of which were his patriotism and courage.  When he joined the Marines, he literally became a hero to us.  After all, there was a war - though undeclared - going on.

 

In April, 1967, we got the news no one wants, that Harry had been killed by small arms fire while on patrol.  Not knowing what else to do, I went frequently to my buddy's house to try and provide some kind of comfort through my presence.  Little did I realize how those visits were going to provide comfort to me.

 

While hanging out at my buddy's house, I was amazed at the outpouring of affection, sympathy and support from the people of Harry's family's church.  It really made me pay attention.  I remember sitting there, listening to those present talk about how they were certain Harry was in heaven.  Now I knew Harry enough to know that their confidence must have been in something other than his perfect behavior.  Harry was a good guy, and a hero, but he was far from perfect.  As I listened, I discerned that their assurance was in the fact that Harry had done something they referred to as "accepted Christ" as a young man.  This was a new thought, but the more I listened, the more I desired the same assurance of eternal life.

 

However, I thought this must be something a person did, in their ecclesiastical formula, at a particular age.  (This made sense to me since, in my background, we went through "confirmation" at age 12.)  Since Harry had evidently made this commitment at age 16, and since I was about a month from being 16, I began to wonder what the qualifications were for accepting Christ, and whether I might be able to go through the rite.

 

One day I caught Harry's mom alone in their kitchen, and like Nicodemus coming to Jesus by night, I surreptitiously inquired:  "You know that thing about accepting Jesus?  When do you do that?" fully expecting her to say, "When you're 16."  But I'll never forget his mom's beaming face, nor her somewhat cryptic answer: "You'll know."

 

Huh?  I will?  How?  I had already begun going to my buddy's church; now I was on the edge of my seat each Sunday, waiting for the pastor's invitation at the end of each service, and waiting for the Lord to show me a sign that He was ready for me to make this decision.  Looking back it's kind of humorous now, but I think Harry's mom's answer was really great: it made me look to God for His leading, His drawing, His confirmation that He wanted me.

 

One Sunday, I KNEW this was it, and when the pastor gave his invitation, I was down the aisle - and meant it, as best I understood things.  And the rest, as they say, is history.

 

I owe a great deal to that young Marine, and to his family.  How I thank God for Harry, and for God using his life as a sacrifice to bring me - and others through me - to Himself. 

 

And I thank God for Harry's family, especially His mom, who was such a great example of sensitivity and availability to the Lord during those days, even in the midst of her broken-heartedness over the loss of her eldest son.  I have always hoped that my own salvation, and the work God has done through my life, have been of some encouragement to her.  She's getting pretty old now - close to 90, I think - and will soon be reunited with her son.  What a great comfort that must be for her as well.

 

It seems a little weird to say, "Happy Memorial Day."  Instead, let me encourage you to reflect today on someone you may know who gave his or her life that you and I might live in freedom.  Truly, "greater love has no one than this: to lay down one's life for his friends."

 

 

 

 

 

NEW BLOG NAME AND ADDRESS

I just wanted to let you all know that I am slightly changing the name of my blog, to Very First Sip.  The new address will be http://very-first-sip.blogspot.com.

The reason for the change is that I have discovered there is another blog that shares the same name as the one I have been using, but that blog does NOT share the same worldview with me.  I don't want anyone to mistakenly go to the wrong blog, and find thoughts or values that could mislead badly.

Thanks to all of you who follow or read my humble offerings.

"CRUMMY" FAITH

But she answered him, “Yes, Lord; yet even the dogs under the table eat the children’s crumbs.”

I have often wondered at the Lord's response to the Syrophoenician woman.  Here is Jesus in her part of the world - the region of Tyre and Sidon - and she, one of the residents who has obviously heard of Him as a merciful and powerful worker of miracles, comes with a huge concern.  Her little daughter is possessed by a demon - an "unclean spirit."  Who knows how it came to be that this little girl would be in this condition?  This region was pagan in its general beliefs and practices, and as such, the people were in great darkness.  Likely they indulged in spirit-ism and the occult.  Perhaps this little girl was herself exposed to, or used in, in the occult rituals, possibly by her mother or father, or maybe she was just part of the "collateral damage" of the culture.

In any event, I am sure that it came as no surprise to Jesus that He would encounter Gentiles with needs in this region.  So His response to this woman has always been interesting to me.  "Let the children be fed first, for it is not right to take the children's bread and throw it to the dogs."

"Dogs?"  Really?  Not exactly the Andrew Carnegie approach to successful ministry.

Yet, on the other hand, it is clear that Jesus deals with this Gentile, this outsider, not as an annoyance, not like the unrighteous judge of Luke 18:4,5, who only gave his help to the needy widow to get her off his back: “Even though I do not respect God nor fear man, yet because this widow bothers me I will give her legal protection, lest by continually coming she wear me out." Rather, Jesus saw this Gentile woman as an object of His great compassion, whose spoken concern He appreciates, but whose deeper need He determines to address.  He tests her, not to plumb the depths of her heart for His own knowledge, but for hers, that she might truly address Him with humility, that she might be freed of her hardness of heart toward the Jews, and that she might acknowledge her own lack of qualification for any blessing from their God.

But if Jesus' response to her request is surprising, her answer to His feigned denial is stunning:

“Yes, Lord; yet even the dogs under the table eat the children’s crumbs.” 

Wow!  She does not become indignant, does not argue, but seizes upon His words and goes with them as the path to continue her appeal.  Here is what the Pulpit Commentary has to say about this remarkable answer:

It is as though she said, “Give me, most gracious Lord, only a crumb (a small mercy compared with thy greater mercies), the healing of my little daughter, which may fall as it were from thee upon us Canaanites and Gentiles, and be gratefully picked up as one of thy lesser benefits.”

Cornelius à Lapide enlarges beautifully upon this: “Feed me, then, as a little dog. To me, a poor Gentile, let a crumb of thy grace and mercy be vouchsafed; but let the full board, the plentiful bread of grace and righteousness, be reserved for the Jewish children. I cannot leave the table of my Lord, whose little dog I am. No; if you spurn me away with your foot, or with a blow, I will go away; but I will come back again, like a little dog, through another door. I will not be driven away by blows. I will not let thee go until thou hast given me what I ask of thee.’ For this Canaanite constrains Christ, arguing her case from his own words, prudently, modestly, forcibly, and with a humble faith which perceives that he is not unwilling to be overcome by petition and by reason. Indeed, she entangles him in the meshes of his own words. So great is the plenteousness of his table, that it shall abundantly suffice for her if she may but partake of the crumbs which fall from the table of his children.”[1]

By her submission to the true ways of God, by acceding to His choice of the Jews as His people and the agency through which He reveals His truth to all peoples, she agreed with God – which is the essence of repentance – and so gained not only the freedom of her daughter from the demon, but of her own soul in the process.

So, by coming to Him in humility, acknowledging that I am not worthy to be seated as His table, but that, if He is willing, just a crumb from the feast that He justifiably provides to whomever He chooses will suffice to heal me, to nurture me, to transform me, to make me a part of the feast, I can have confidence, not in my worthiness, but in His merciful kindness, whose “steadfast love endures forever” (Ps 136).

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^[1]Spence-Jones, H. D. M. (Hrsg.): The Pulpit Commentary: St. Mark Vol. I. Bellingham, WA : Logos Research Systems, Inc., 2004, S. 295