The Pharisee and the Tax Collector

The Pharisee began his journey.

To the temple he was bound.

He purposely planned his travel

Through the center of his town.

The attention that would come his way,

Was something on which he thrived.

So he’d readied himself for the time

He’d be in the public eye.

He wore a long and flowing robe,

With borders of gold and red;

And he’d broadened the phylacteries,

That he wore on his arm and head.

He bore a sad countenance,

And a frown that was lasting,

In order that all who saw his face

Would know that he was fasting.

When the Pharisee finally arrived

Inside the marketplace,

The people could not help but notice

The disfigurement of his face.

He made his way through the people,

And as he passed them by,

Many of them shouted greetings,

And called out, “Rabbi, Rabbi!”

The Pharisee loved the attention,

And the praises of these men.

He struggled to suppress a smile,

‘Til his journey reached its end.

He soon arrived at the temple,

Where he’d carry out his chores

Of offering up his tithes,

And praying to the Lord.

He looked about the temple and found

A prominent place to stand.

He folded his hands and closed his eyes,

And then his prayer began.

He prayed using many words,

While trying to sound sincere.

And he made sure he was loud enough

For everyone to hear.

The prayer that he was uttering,

Was repetitive and long.

But in order to appear pious,

He went on and on and on.

When the Pharisee finished praying,

His duties fully complied,

He noticed there was another man,

Standing far off to his side.

He knew he was a tax collector,

A man the people reviled.

And the sight of him praying to God

Caused the Pharisee to smile.

As he shook his head in amazement,

And fought the urge to sneer,

He offered up a brief prayer,

One that no one could hear.

He said, “Lord, I’m not like other men,

Who’ve cheated, caroused and drank.

Nor am I like that tax collector,

And for that I give you thanks.”

“Oh Lord, may I remind you that

Your laws I always keep.

I give tithes of all that I possess,

And I fast twice a week.”

The Pharisee was finished now,

And he started to walk away.

He then began to think about

The remainder of his day.

He would walk back to his residence,

To get a little rest.

And then he’d attend a party,

Where he’d be the honored guest.

Standing alone at the temple,

The tax collector prepared

To offer up to the Lord

A radically different prayer.

He was mindful of his shameful past.

He was conscious of his sin.

He realized how depraved he was,

And guilt was consuming him.

His eyes, which had seen his many sins,

Were lowered to the ground.

He couldn’t raise them to heaven.

The man could only look down.

The tax collector then beast his breast,

And made a desperate plea.

He said, “Lord, I am a sinner!

Be merciful to me!”

When he was finished praying,

He headed to his home,

Where he would receive no honor,

And would spend the evening alone.

After several months went by,

To no one’s dismay,

The tax collector and the Pharisee

Died on the very same day.

The two men went to heaven,

And appeared before God’s throne,

Where the Lord would look at each man’s heart

And make his judgment known.

One of the men was confident,

And held his head up high.

The other couldn’t face the Lord,

Or look him in the eye.

The Pharisee stepped forward

And shouted out, “Lord, Lord!

I am ready to receive from you

My heavenly reward!

“Lord, Lord, did I not prophesy?

Yes, your word I did proclaim!

I cast out many demons,

And did wonders in your name!”

“And may I remind you of your laws,

Which I never failed to keep.

I gave tithes of all that I possessed,

And I fasted twice a week!”

The Pharisee stepped back and waited

To receive his eternal crown.

But he was not prepared to hear

The judgment handed down.

The Lord said, “I never knew you,

And your works do not impress.

Depart from me immediately

You worker of lawlessness!”

The Pharisee was stunned at this,

The tax collector as well.

Why would this devout, religious man

Be sentenced forever to hell?

The tax collector silently

Watched the Pharisee leave,

To be separated from the Lord,

For all eternity.

Standing alone now before the Lord,

The tax collector knew

That if the Pharisee was doomed,

Then surely he was, too.

He hung his head and started to cry.

He knew what was in store.

Closing his eyes, he waited for

The judgment of the Lord.

When the man heard nothing from the throne,

It came as a surprise.

So the tax collector stopped crying,

And slowly opened his eyes.

The Lord had come down from the throne,

And was standing very near.

He reached over to the man’s face,

And wiped away his tears.

He said, “You asked for mercy,

And mercy you shall receive.”

Then he put an arm around him,

And said, “Now come with me.”

They went to the New Jerusalem,

And entered through one of its gates.

They traveled down the streets of gold,

And greeted many saints.

The Lord and the tax collector

Journeyed far and wide,

Until they arrived at a mansion,

With many rooms inside.

The Lord said, “I have a place for you,

A dwelling of your own.

Well done, good and faithful servant.

Now, make yourself at home!”

The Trial of Kenneth Jones

The door to the courtroom opened.

“All rise!” the bailiff cried.

All of us in attendance

Immediately complied.

I stood at the defendant’s table,

With my counsel next to me.

My hands and my feet were shackled,

Lest I attempt to flee.

The judge entered the courtroom,

And stood behind the bench.

He looked at the prosecution,

And he looked at the defense.

He took notice of me standing there,

Looking scared and defeated.

He then announced to the courtroom,

“Everyone, please be seated.”

The judge pounded his gavel,

And said, “Let the record be shown,

That today we’re hearing the case

Of ‘The State versus Kenneth Jones’”.

After reviewing some of the papers,

That the judge needed to read,

He asked the prosecution,

“Are you ready to proceed?”

The prosecutor said, “Yes, your honor,”

While rising to his feet.

He flashed a smile of confidence,

As he glanced over at me.

I swallowed hard and looked away,

As nervous as can be.

That man had the look of someone

Who wanted to bury me.

He tapped on a pile of papers

That was several inches thick.

No doubt a wealth of evidence,

That he would use to convict.

He stepped forward and said, “Your honor,

I intend to prove to you,

That the defendant, Mr. Jones,

Is a criminal through and through.”

 “He’s committed countless misdeeds,

Over a 53-year span.

And here are the many charges

We’re bringing against this man.”

“We’re charging him with multiple counts

Of lust and profanity.

There are also many counts of greed,

Slander and dishonesty.”

“We’re charging Mr. Jones with hate,

Unforgiveness and deceit,

Gossip, envy, love of money,

Pride and hypocrisy.”

“There’s boasting, malice, covetousness.

The list goes on and on.

There isn’t an evil desire

He’s not set his heart upon.”

Every charge he’d read aloud

Was absolutely true.

I thought that I’d concealed my crimes,

But somehow, some way, he knew.

I looked in the judge’s direction.

He was looking straight at me.

He said, “You have heard the charges.

Mr. Jones, how do you plead?”

I suspected it would be pointless,

For me to deny the truth;

So I turned and spoke to my counsel,

And asked him what I should do.

We spoke for more than a minute,

And after we conferred,

I stood to face the judge and said,

“I am pleading guilty, sir.”

The prosecutor looked overjoyed.

He fought to suppress a smile.

The judge would now pronounce his sentence,

And would thus conclude the trial.

 

As I waited for my punishment,

I swallowed and took a deep breath.

The judge then said, “Mr. Jones,

You are hereby sentenced to death.”

His words left me stunned and shocked,

And unable to reply.

I dropped my head into my hands,

And then began to cry.

My counsel put an arm around me,

And offered comforting words.

The sentence was harsh, and yet I knew

I was getting what I deserved.

While my counsel was continuing

To offer me support,

Someone from behind me yelled,

“May I address the court?”

I turned around and took a look

At the man who had weighed in.

He had no form or comeliness.

No beauty was there in him.

I noticed scars on his hands and feet.

His clothes were worn and plain.

The judge summoned him forward and said,

“For the record, state your name.”

He said, “My name is Jesus Christ;

I come from Nazareth.

I’m here before the court to appeal

Mr. Jones’s sentence of death.”

The judge said, “Your appeal is noted,

But the sentence can’t be stayed.

The defendant’s crimes are numerous,

And the penalty must be paid.”

The Nazarene said, “Yes, your honor,

The law must be enforced.

But if I take the defendant’s place,

Will that satisfy the court?”

I watched this turn of events

As perplexed as I could be;

A man who was guilty of nothing,

Had offered to die for me.

The judge looked at the prosecutor,

And in my counsel’s direction.

And then he asked the two of them

If either had an objection.

The prosecutor did object.

The request he ridiculed.

But in the end the judge announced,

“Objection overruled.”

The judge then turned to the bailiff,

And issued this command,

“Remove the shackles from Mr. Jones,

And place them on this man.”

Immediately the bailiff

Responded to this command,

By calmly removing the shackles

From my feet and from my hands.

And as the order was carried out,

I couldn’t help but observe,

That when they bound his hands and feet,

Jesus never said a word.

He now appeared before the judge,

Innocent, and yet,

Ready to receive the punishment,

For crimes he didn’t commit.

As Jesus stood there in my place,

My punishment reassigned,

The judge said, “You are condemned to death,

For Mr. Jones’s crimes.”

Jesus had now been sentenced,

And there would be no stay.

The judge then turned to the bailiff,

And said, “Take this man away.”

I watched as Jesus was led away,

So that he could die for me.

I watched him wearing my shackles,

So that I could be set free.

With that, the judge looked down at me

And said, “You may now go home.

Your penalty has been paid in full.

You’re a free man, Mr. Jones.”

This is a story of a pastor,

Who was the father of two boys.

His children were greatly loved by him.

They were his pride and joy.

The two were just a year apart,

And alike in many ways,

Two peas in a pod, and yet they were

As different as night and day.

The older son had a servant’s heart,

And lived obediently.

The younger son was a free spirit,

Who questioned authority.

The older son worked in the church,

Wherever there was a need.

He helped to keep the building clean,

And served in the nursery.

The younger son lived for himself,

And resisted all boundaries.

He was selfish and undisciplined,

And in trouble frequently.

When the younger son reached adulthood,

It came as no surprise,

When he announced he was leaving town,

And cutting all his ties.

The father wasn’t able to

Convince his son to stay.

With tears in his eyes, he watched him leave

For a city far away.

The son completed his journey,

And as soon as he arrived,

He went and found the kind of friends

That only money can buy.

He spent his money on prostitutes.

He spent it on alcohol.

He became addicted to drugs.

He was heading for a fall.

He had no means of income

To pay for his sinful pursuits.

And when his money was gone,

His so-called friends were too.

The life of the younger son

Quickly became unglued.

Soon he was living in the streets,

And begging for his food.

With hunger pains gnawing at him,

And no money left to spend,

He finally came to realize,

What an utter fool he’d been.

As he pondered his situation,

And was feeling all alone,

He thought of his father and wondered,

What was happening back home.

He had no way of knowing

That back in his home church,

The members were praying for him,

Though his father feared the worst.

Day after day his father worried,

And agonized on his own,

Wondering if his younger son,

Would ever be coming home.

One Sunday he preached a message,

On how men are trapped by sin.

He spoke of the Lord’s forgiveness,

And of coming home to him.

He invited people forward,

When the sermon reached its end,

To receive the forgiveness of God,

And to be made whole again.

After he made the invitation,

And waited for a short while,

A solitary figure

Started coming down the aisle.

As this person came closer and closer,

The father was shocked and stunned,

To see that the man approaching,

Was none other than his son.

His younger son was disheveled,

And clearly in bad shape.

He looked considerably older,

And severely underweight.

His father did not wait for him.

He ran from the podium.

He sprinted down the center aisle,

Where he quickly hugged his son.

As the two of them just stood there,

In a warm, loving embrace,

Each member of the audience

Had tears running down his face.

The son pulled back from the father,

And in front of everyone,

He said, “Daddy, I’m so sorry,

For everything I’ve done.”

His father put an arm around him,

And said, “Son, come with me.”

He led him to the front of the church,

For everyone to see.

He declared to the congregation,

“Here’s my beloved son!

We prayed that he’d come home to us,

And on this day he’s come!”

“My son was dead, but is alive,

Was lost, but now is found!

Let’s raise our voices to the Lord,

And make a joyful sound!”

The people responded heartily.

Rejoicing was in the air.

The congregation thanked the Lord

For answering their prayers.

When the cheering finally subsided,

The father announced to all,

That there’d be an impromptu party

Next door in the social hall.

The people headed on over,

Including the younger son.

But the party at the hall was not

Attended by everyone.

The sanctuary had emptied,

In just a matter of time.

And then the father noticed,

That someone had stayed behind.

This person was up near the front,

Sitting with no one.

The father went down and took a seat

Next to his older son.

His son would not look up at him.

So the father asked, “What’s wrong?

We’re celebrating your brother’s return.

Why don’t you come along?”

But the older son was angry,

And wanted to clear the air.

He said, “Father, I don’t understand.”

What you’re doing is not fair.”

“I’ve always been obedient.

I’ve served you faithfully.

And despite all that I’ve done for you,

You’ve never honored me.”

“And yet you praise my brother,

Who’s lived a life of sin.

You acknowledge him before the church,

And throw a party for him.”

His father replied, “Please listen, son.

I love you and I care.

But this is about a life redeemed,

Not what is, or isn’t, fair.”

“We must rejoice because my son

Has turned his life around.

Your brother was dead, but is alive,

Was lost, but now is found!”

The older son was listening

To what his father said.

But he didn’t feel like answering.

He just stared straight ahead.

His father added, “Please think about

All that I’ve said to you.

And then come and join the party,

When you have thought things through.”

The father wasn’t certain

If his words were hitting home.

He quietly stood up and left,

So his son could be alone.

The older son just sat there,

Thinking it all through,

Considering his options,

And wondering what to do.