The other day, my 17th-century English friend Matthew Henry made one of those comments that just kind of grows on you, or it does on me anyway. We were reading from Ezekiel Chapter 39.
Ezekiel is a really sad book; a lot of terrible things happen. I have questioned more than once why I was even reading it. It is not only sad but also kind of scary. A lot of Ezekiel’s prophecies seem to mirror our own day and time. But if you read to the end, it gets better. I’m certain there are lessons in there somewhere for you and I.
Here’s one of the things Matthew said about Ezekiel 39. You will have to cut Matthew some slack because he’s writing like it’s the 17th century, and they said things a bit differently back then, and these are his exact words.
“As they sat by the fire with their children about them (their fire-side), they might from it take occasion to tell them what great things God had done for them.”
Fireside, in Matthew Henry’s day, would have been a place of warmth, probably the warmest and most comfortable place in the house. It was an easy place for the family to gather…and talk. Few distractions. No one had any devices in those days.
I was able to see right away this was obviously a responsibility of parents. I do not think we as a nation have been doing this fireside thing for several generations.
Matthew was assigning this responsibility to his readers. That would be us. But do not worry, this reader can help you out.
I am adept at dodging responsibility. One of my favorite verses is Luke 10.29; “But wanting to justify himself, he asked Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?”
The reason that verse appeals to me so much is because if you can not figure out who your neighbor is, you may not have to actually help him/her, at least in my way of thinking.
If we apply my thinking to Matthew Henry’s comment, we can easily escape all responsibility.
Possibly, you don’t have a fireside. See how easy this is?
Possibly you don’t have time to gather at the fireside if you have one.
Possibly, you can’t really think of any great things to tell your children about what God has done for you, thinking instead you have done most of them all yourself.
Possibly, you don’t know how to talk to your children.
Possibly, you don’t want your children to think you are weird.
Possibly, society has replaced your fireside moments with other things you think are more important
Or maybe I/we have just given up these “occasions” as Matthew calls them without a fight.
You may choose any of the maybes above, or possibly you have a nice one of your own.
It had not occurred to me earlier in reading with Matthew that when I had hastily made my astute observation, I was and still am a parent, and also now a grandparent. Maybe I still have some responsibilities here. Some “skin in the game” one might say.
Maybe “fireside” could take a different form. Maybe it looks like something else today. After all, the 17th century, when my friend Matthew wrote was a long time ago.
A lot has happened since then.