Reconciliation

Reconciliation is a lengthy word that bears a bit of weight.  It is a coming back.  It is a return to a better time when people agreed with each other.  It is a gift to us by means of God's grace.  How does this work?
God is always present in our lives, whether we like it or not.  God is there looking over our shoulders as we browse a mobile "dating" app.  God is there sitting at the chair in a motel, waiting patiently for you to come back.  God is right outside the door of our proverbial closet, ready to show us God's love and God's goodness: the promise.  Indeed, God is ready to accept us as God's own creation without masks made by our own failing hands.  Jesus explains the essence of this reconciliation by grace in the gospel today: "the tax collectors and the prostitutes are going into the kingdom of God ahead of you [the Jews]."  Jesus says that the epitomes of the two worst people in society—traitors on the one hand and the most sexually immoral, damning images of Israel on the other—would enter the kingdom of heaven.  Now, that is true reconciliation.  We could go even further with the story of Paul, but we don't have to.  God is there to pick us back up when we fall and to bring us close to God when we stray away.

God's Grace

So, today's readings are all about God's grace.  The parable for today can seem difficult to understand, for it exhibits what seems to be inequality among the workers.  However, as Jesus says, "Is it not lawful for me to do what I wish with my own things? Or is your eye evil because I am good?" (Matthew 20:15, NKJV)  This passage reminds me of another parable, where a servant is forgiven of all of his debts, but then that same servant goes out to demand the debts of his workers.  After remembering that, I remember what I did yesterday.
I had decided to wear a new shirt that my mom had gotten me two weeks ago.  The thing about the shirt is that it was a tank top, a shirt style I had never worn before (gasp! I know).  Moreover, it had the word "proud" written in rainbow letters on the front. So, when I was walking about, I felt a little bare and nervous, but that did not stop me entirely from going about my normal day.  When I walked to the pizza joint just outside of my house, I hesitated to walk any farther, for a man was walking in before me: baggy, long sleeved shirt reading "Born Fly" on the back, pants sagging lower than the knees, basketball shorts breathing in the wind, and tattoos on either cheekbone and forehead.  He placed his order.  I placed mine.  He got his food and took a seat.  I got my food to go.  There was no interaction between the two of us, and there was no harm done.  No harm.
I judged.  I projected my own prejudices towards that man.  I accused him of planning and conspiring things against me and all of my fabulous family that had never crossed his mind.  In fact, it crossed my mind before his.  Who am I to determine what he is going to do? Who am I to judge him for his outward appearance? Who am I to take out my own fears and angers on him?
In the same way, who are we to judge who gets God's grace? Who are we to call ourselves saints and everybody else sinners?  God has the last say.  God has the grace and the punishments.  I, like Jonah, must eat my hateful thoughts.  I, like Christ, must prepare myself as a worthy sacrifice to the living God, the God of abounding grace and reluctant punishment.