And it came about, when the days were approaching for His ascension, that He resolutely set His face to go to Jerusalem; and He sent messengers on ahead of Him. And they went, and entered a village of the Samaritans to make arrangements for Him. And they did not receive Him, because He was journeying with His face toward Jerusalem. And when His disciples James and John saw this, they said, “Lord, do You want us to command fire to come down from heaven and consume them?” but He rebuked them, and said, “You do not know what kind of spirit you are of; for the Son of Man did not come to destroy men’s lives, but to save them.” And they went on to another village. (Luke 9:51-56 NASB)
The Jews and Samaritans were not, by any stretch of the imagination, what you would call close friends. In fact, there was a great deal of animosity between these two people groups. I don’t know whether James and John were actually the disciples who had entered Samaria or if they were just hearing the
report afterward; but they were really ticked that the Samaritans, who they viewed as beneath them, would dare not to receive disciples of the Lord Jesus. At least they asked Jesus if they should call down fire on these people instead of just doing it.
I have never called down fire on anyone, at least not that I recall. However, there was a time when God had to rebuke me in a similar manner. I grew up with three siblings; two were close to my age and one fifteen years younger. My older brother suffered most of his life with severe chronic schizophrenia. We
had some joyful moments together as sister and brother, but much was akin to torture. I won’t go into great detail, but I will say that I responded to his behavior both with moments of compassion and periods of animosity. When my family moved out of state with me remaining behind, I thought everything was okay. I no longer had to deal with the stress. It was easier to love him from afar. My bottled-up gall was now out of sight and out of mind, but it was not out of my heart.
Years later a woman came into my life who, to a large extent, was a female version of my brother. She followed me everywhere, including into a group I was leading. We had some enjoyable times but I found myself growing very impatient when she pulled manipulative shenanigans. I was also frustrated when she consistently interrupted and monopolized group discussions. I encouraged her to participate, but asked that she consider the other members. I considered them. I considered that they were quickly leaving the
group one-by-one. Finally, in desperation I called out to God, “Why does she have to be in my group? It’s like dealing with my brother all over again! Why did You have to put her in this one? Wouldn’t another type of ministry meet her needs better?” His response: “I put her there to keep you from rotting.”
I did not know what kind of spirit I was of. God had to show me so we could deal with it together…and deal with it, we did. He showed me in a most tangible way because He loves me and also loves those who struggle with schizophrenia. He wants genuine love and understanding for all His wounded children.