John 18:1-11
The scene is about as dark as it could be. In the middle of the night Jesus is with his handful of disciples and followers in a garden praying. Then the betrayer Judas arrives with both Roman and Temple soldiers armed to the teeth to take Jesus into custody. The night is dark, the prospects seem bleak, and there is almost nothing the disciples can do about it. But there is something Peter decides to do about it.
Just a couple of hours earlier at dinner Peter proclaimed that he would follow Jesus wherever he went, even if it meant going to his own death. Peter found his moment. He drew his sword in the face of possibly hundreds of professional soldiers and made his way toward the closest unarmed man he could find. Peter struck, the ear was severed, and Jesus put a stop to the whole thing. When Jesus healed the servant’s ear, he not only healed the physical wound, he healed the damage Peter did with his sword. To put Peter’s action and Jesus’ response in context, we should back up a minute before Peter puts his hand on the hilt.
It is important to see who was in control of the arrest. When Judas and his band arrive, Jesus “came forward” and asked them who they sought. He clearly wasn’t put off by the posturing of power. When Jesus identified himself with, “I am he,” all of them rocked back on their heels and fell over. Not even a group of armed, professional soldiers could stand in the presence of the breath of God. Just the mention of his name blew them down. Jesus was no unfortunate martyr caught in the gears of injustice. Jesus was in control of the cross and he was in control of the arrest.
While the soldiers and Judas recovered their feet Jesus said, “I told you that I am he. So, if you seek me, let these men go.” Earlier Jesus prayed that he had lost none of the disciples except the one who had already betrayed him, so this moment is a fulfillment of his own prayer. Jesus is arrested and his disciples, including the impetuous Peter, go free. Jesus is not only in control of the arrest and the cross, he is in control of his disciples. In the face of overt and aggressive armed persecution, not a single disciple faces a fate outside of God’s will. And that brings us back to Peter.
Peter’s impulse was to draw his sword in the face of swords. He wanted to protect Christ with all the human strength he could muster. His impulse was to fight earthly power with earthly power, and his impulse was exactly wrong. Jesus, on the other hand, was interested in another power and asked Peter, “shall I not drink the cup that the Father has given me?” Earthly power was of no consequence in a garden full of soldiers and swords: the most powerful and important thing that night was the will of God.
The Kingdom of God is not about the assertion of my earthly power or our earthly power – it is a matter of the will of God. In the face of everything this world brings against Christ and his people, the most powerful and important thing to the disciple is the will of God. Christ was in complete control of the cross, and Christ is in complete control of his child.
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Monday, August 23, 2010
A New Commandment to Love
John 13:34-35
On the night Jesus was betrayed, he washed the disciples’ feet, identified Judas as his betrayer, and gave them a new commandment about love. The command to love each other as he loved them comes at an interesting moment in the Gospel story. After washing their feet, Jesus’ betrayer leaves the room to sell him for money, and after giving the command, Peter’s forthcoming denial is revealed. The command to love each other with God’s unique kind of love is sandwiched between satanic betrayal and the denial that comes from well intentioned, but ultimately frail, humanity. Christ’s love is never seen so clearly as when the background is so dark.
“A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another: just as I have loved you, you also are to love one another. By this all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.” (vs. 34-35)
In one sense, there is nothing new about this command. The Old Testament tells us that we are to love God with all our heart, soul, mind, and strength and to love our neighbors as ourselves (Deut. 6:5; Lev. 19:34). During his life with the disciples, Jesus repeated these commands in what we sometimes call the Greatest Commandment – we ought to love God with everything we have and love our neighbors as we love ourselves (Mark 12:30-31). So, if there is nothing new about God commanding his people to be people of love, what is so new about this commandment to love?
First of all, the context becomes the standard. The cross is looming just ahead of Jesus: he is distressed and troubled by all that will befall him in the next 24 hours, including both the physical torture and the betrayal and denial of beloved friends. This is God in flesh being betrayed by a friend, and yet Jesus washed his feet and served him bread. Up to the last minute before Satan enters Judas and Judas leaves the room for good, Jesus reaches out to him in love. This is God in flesh surrounded by well-meaning disciples but frail humans who nonetheless are going to fall before they rise again to become his church. And in it all Jesus places his kingdom in their hands. When there seems to be no good reason for Jesus to love his disciples or command love one to another – on a night as dark as this – Jesus commands love. The cross becomes the standard.
Second, the person becomes the standard. This is not human love. This is not human love to the maximum sustained over a long period of time. This is not “true love.” This is nothing any human or any group of humans can muster or imitate, because it is a love that comes from the heart of God himself. Jesus is clear just hours before he will die on the cross for them that he alone is the standard for this love: “just as I have loved you.” Jesus must become our example of and source of love.
And finally, the disciples become the bearers of this love. John the disciple said in one of his epistles, “Beloved, if God so loved us, we also ought to love one another” (1 John 4:11). Jesus has ascended into the heavens and we are now the love of God to this world and to each other. If we follow his example, we are marked by our love – we are distinguished and recognized by our love. We are not recognized just as good people or perpetual do-gooders. We are recognized as people who belong to this Jesus Christ.
This command to love is utterly unique in that the cross becomes the standard, the person Jesus becomes the standard, and we the disciples are becoming the examples here and now of this love.
On the night Jesus was betrayed, he washed the disciples’ feet, identified Judas as his betrayer, and gave them a new commandment about love. The command to love each other as he loved them comes at an interesting moment in the Gospel story. After washing their feet, Jesus’ betrayer leaves the room to sell him for money, and after giving the command, Peter’s forthcoming denial is revealed. The command to love each other with God’s unique kind of love is sandwiched between satanic betrayal and the denial that comes from well intentioned, but ultimately frail, humanity. Christ’s love is never seen so clearly as when the background is so dark.
“A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another: just as I have loved you, you also are to love one another. By this all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.” (vs. 34-35)
In one sense, there is nothing new about this command. The Old Testament tells us that we are to love God with all our heart, soul, mind, and strength and to love our neighbors as ourselves (Deut. 6:5; Lev. 19:34). During his life with the disciples, Jesus repeated these commands in what we sometimes call the Greatest Commandment – we ought to love God with everything we have and love our neighbors as we love ourselves (Mark 12:30-31). So, if there is nothing new about God commanding his people to be people of love, what is so new about this commandment to love?
First of all, the context becomes the standard. The cross is looming just ahead of Jesus: he is distressed and troubled by all that will befall him in the next 24 hours, including both the physical torture and the betrayal and denial of beloved friends. This is God in flesh being betrayed by a friend, and yet Jesus washed his feet and served him bread. Up to the last minute before Satan enters Judas and Judas leaves the room for good, Jesus reaches out to him in love. This is God in flesh surrounded by well-meaning disciples but frail humans who nonetheless are going to fall before they rise again to become his church. And in it all Jesus places his kingdom in their hands. When there seems to be no good reason for Jesus to love his disciples or command love one to another – on a night as dark as this – Jesus commands love. The cross becomes the standard.
Second, the person becomes the standard. This is not human love. This is not human love to the maximum sustained over a long period of time. This is not “true love.” This is nothing any human or any group of humans can muster or imitate, because it is a love that comes from the heart of God himself. Jesus is clear just hours before he will die on the cross for them that he alone is the standard for this love: “just as I have loved you.” Jesus must become our example of and source of love.
And finally, the disciples become the bearers of this love. John the disciple said in one of his epistles, “Beloved, if God so loved us, we also ought to love one another” (1 John 4:11). Jesus has ascended into the heavens and we are now the love of God to this world and to each other. If we follow his example, we are marked by our love – we are distinguished and recognized by our love. We are not recognized just as good people or perpetual do-gooders. We are recognized as people who belong to this Jesus Christ.
This command to love is utterly unique in that the cross becomes the standard, the person Jesus becomes the standard, and we the disciples are becoming the examples here and now of this love.
Monday, August 2, 2010
An Extravagant Act of Worship
John 12:1-8
At the very beginning of the Passion Week, Jesus enjoyed a private moment with his friends and disciples. Jesus returned to Bethany, just outside of Jerusalem, and reclined at the table with Lazarus, recently raised from the dead. Getting ready to eat a meal together we have a man who just walked out of a grave and a man on his way there. But during this time, something both shocking and prophetic happened. Mary opened a bottle of extremely expensive perfume and anointed Jesus’ feet with it. Her act, which is an act of worship, as shocking and extravagant as it is, is something we need to learn to do.
There is a lot to learn about the act, the ointment and the reaction. The act is unusual, extravagant and even uncomfortable. Feet were usually washed by servants and not the lady of the house, and they were always washed with water, not perfume. Too add to the uniqueness of the moment, Mary lets her hair down in a display reserved for the intimacy of husband and wife and wipes his feet clean. With all that it is, Mary’s act is one of service, submission and ultimately, of worship.
Even the perfume tells us something. That type of perfume would have been rare in her world, as it (“spikenard”) comes from a plant that grows in the mountains in India. And Judas is good enough to tell us it is worth about “300 denari,” or what would have been an entire year’s wages for the average worker of the day. The perfume is rare, likely a family heirloom, and very expensive.
In this act of worship, Mary literally pours out the best of what she has on Jesus. In her act we see that there is nothing not worth “pouring out” on Jesus. The perfume became practically useless as it soaked into the ground, but it served the greater purpose of anointing Jesus’ feet as an act of worship for a Messiah on his way to the cross (12:7).
The act and the ointment tell us something. The complaint is probably even more instructive. At this moment of extravagant worship and service Judas breaks in with a complaint wrapped in pious practicality. The perfume was rare and expensive and now soaking into the dirt. Imagine the number of meals we could have purchased for the poor! But in retrospect, John makes sure we know that Judas was not being genuine – his was a corrupt heart that cared nothing for the poor, and would have liked the sound of 300 coins ringing in the money bag.
Because of the corruption of his heart, Judas mistook an extravagant yet appropriate act of worship for a waste. Without putting it into these exact words he responded to Mary by saying, “Jesus may be worth a lot, but not that much!” For Mary, there was nothing else she could have done with the perfume that was worth more than pouring it out on Jesus. For Judas, worshiping Jesus was a thing to be limited; there were things and objects in this world worth more than he was.
Here is where the story becomes hard for us: Mary is the example, Judas is me. I need to learn to worship Jesus the way Mary did – nothing in my life has greater value than when I pour it out on him. But more likely than not, my day-to-day decisions betray a different point of view. Have I learned to squeeze worship into the other “nice” things I do? Are there things in my life too valuable to me to pour them out on Jesus?
If Mary had decided to save the perfume for herself, this moment would never have come to us. But because she worshiped Jesus with it her act has served as an example for centuries of believers. If I keep my best for me and their normally “practical” purposes, nothing of eternal value may come of them. But if I pour them out in extravagant acts of worship, what can God make of them?
At the very beginning of the Passion Week, Jesus enjoyed a private moment with his friends and disciples. Jesus returned to Bethany, just outside of Jerusalem, and reclined at the table with Lazarus, recently raised from the dead. Getting ready to eat a meal together we have a man who just walked out of a grave and a man on his way there. But during this time, something both shocking and prophetic happened. Mary opened a bottle of extremely expensive perfume and anointed Jesus’ feet with it. Her act, which is an act of worship, as shocking and extravagant as it is, is something we need to learn to do.
There is a lot to learn about the act, the ointment and the reaction. The act is unusual, extravagant and even uncomfortable. Feet were usually washed by servants and not the lady of the house, and they were always washed with water, not perfume. Too add to the uniqueness of the moment, Mary lets her hair down in a display reserved for the intimacy of husband and wife and wipes his feet clean. With all that it is, Mary’s act is one of service, submission and ultimately, of worship.
Even the perfume tells us something. That type of perfume would have been rare in her world, as it (“spikenard”) comes from a plant that grows in the mountains in India. And Judas is good enough to tell us it is worth about “300 denari,” or what would have been an entire year’s wages for the average worker of the day. The perfume is rare, likely a family heirloom, and very expensive.
In this act of worship, Mary literally pours out the best of what she has on Jesus. In her act we see that there is nothing not worth “pouring out” on Jesus. The perfume became practically useless as it soaked into the ground, but it served the greater purpose of anointing Jesus’ feet as an act of worship for a Messiah on his way to the cross (12:7).
The act and the ointment tell us something. The complaint is probably even more instructive. At this moment of extravagant worship and service Judas breaks in with a complaint wrapped in pious practicality. The perfume was rare and expensive and now soaking into the dirt. Imagine the number of meals we could have purchased for the poor! But in retrospect, John makes sure we know that Judas was not being genuine – his was a corrupt heart that cared nothing for the poor, and would have liked the sound of 300 coins ringing in the money bag.
Because of the corruption of his heart, Judas mistook an extravagant yet appropriate act of worship for a waste. Without putting it into these exact words he responded to Mary by saying, “Jesus may be worth a lot, but not that much!” For Mary, there was nothing else she could have done with the perfume that was worth more than pouring it out on Jesus. For Judas, worshiping Jesus was a thing to be limited; there were things and objects in this world worth more than he was.
Here is where the story becomes hard for us: Mary is the example, Judas is me. I need to learn to worship Jesus the way Mary did – nothing in my life has greater value than when I pour it out on him. But more likely than not, my day-to-day decisions betray a different point of view. Have I learned to squeeze worship into the other “nice” things I do? Are there things in my life too valuable to me to pour them out on Jesus?
If Mary had decided to save the perfume for herself, this moment would never have come to us. But because she worshiped Jesus with it her act has served as an example for centuries of believers. If I keep my best for me and their normally “practical” purposes, nothing of eternal value may come of them. But if I pour them out in extravagant acts of worship, what can God make of them?
Monday, May 17, 2010
There May Be Blood
John 6:60-71
Has anyone ever promised you that following Jesus would be easy? Maybe Jesus would fulfill your wildest dreams and make everything in your life go smoothly if you simply asked him into your heart. Though I believe it is true that life with God is the only “life abundantly,” I am also convinced that it can be life’s greatest challenge. Jesus doesn’t promise us ease in life, but he does promise us life. After all, what do we expect becoming disciples of an innocent and executed man?
The early disciples of Christ learned this in dramatic fashion during an extended conversation about the bread of life. Jesus turns the conversation from the topic of eating the bread of life, Him, and receiving eternal life, to eating his flesh and drinking his blood; a shocking and even odd metaphor in any culture. And it isn’t an option.
“Truly, truly, I say to you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you. Whoever feeds on my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life...” (vs. 53-54)
At this point, it is only natural to wonder who this guy is. The crowd wonders about his stance on cannibalism, and his disciples are muttering among themselves that this is a hard saying. And it is a hard saying! Into a world full of religious options, this man says he is the only path to salvation. Into a Jewish culture with a well established set of expectations regarding the Messiah, Jesus comes claiming all those rolls and rights, but doesn’t look at all like what they expected. And to cap it all off, apparently, there will be blood.
The Gospels are full of crowds who both follow and reject Jesus. It is not uncommon for a crowd to gather because of the miracles, hear Jesus teach, and then split into groups of devotees, hangers on, and outright enemies. At this point in John 6 something relatively unique happens. John doesn’t remark on the crowd’s rejection of Jesus. It looks more like this:
“When many of his disciples heard it, they said, ‘This is a hard saying; who can listen to it?’....After this many of his disciples turned back and no longer walked with him.” (vs. 60, 66)
His disciples reject him. It looks like it will be too hard to follow him – to go through what it will mean to “eat” his flesh and blood, to associate so closely with Jesus that it will be like he is in them and they are in him. But there is one notable if not surprising exception.
“Simon Peter answered him, 'Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life’...” (vs 68)
This is a profound moment of clarity and priority for Peter and the rest who stayed. It is less important that Jesus might be hard to follow. It is less important that he will say and do things that may be hard to accept. It is less important that blood might be shed in following Him. It is more important that Jesus has the words of life.
The disciples who walked away from Christ that day chose what looked like the easier path, but lost life abundantly and life eternal. Peter’s life did not become immediately easy or perfect, but in choosing to follow Christ come what may, he found God’s life.
Has anyone ever promised you that following Jesus would be easy? Maybe Jesus would fulfill your wildest dreams and make everything in your life go smoothly if you simply asked him into your heart. Though I believe it is true that life with God is the only “life abundantly,” I am also convinced that it can be life’s greatest challenge. Jesus doesn’t promise us ease in life, but he does promise us life. After all, what do we expect becoming disciples of an innocent and executed man?
The early disciples of Christ learned this in dramatic fashion during an extended conversation about the bread of life. Jesus turns the conversation from the topic of eating the bread of life, Him, and receiving eternal life, to eating his flesh and drinking his blood; a shocking and even odd metaphor in any culture. And it isn’t an option.
“Truly, truly, I say to you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you. Whoever feeds on my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life...” (vs. 53-54)
At this point, it is only natural to wonder who this guy is. The crowd wonders about his stance on cannibalism, and his disciples are muttering among themselves that this is a hard saying. And it is a hard saying! Into a world full of religious options, this man says he is the only path to salvation. Into a Jewish culture with a well established set of expectations regarding the Messiah, Jesus comes claiming all those rolls and rights, but doesn’t look at all like what they expected. And to cap it all off, apparently, there will be blood.
The Gospels are full of crowds who both follow and reject Jesus. It is not uncommon for a crowd to gather because of the miracles, hear Jesus teach, and then split into groups of devotees, hangers on, and outright enemies. At this point in John 6 something relatively unique happens. John doesn’t remark on the crowd’s rejection of Jesus. It looks more like this:
“When many of his disciples heard it, they said, ‘This is a hard saying; who can listen to it?’....After this many of his disciples turned back and no longer walked with him.” (vs. 60, 66)
His disciples reject him. It looks like it will be too hard to follow him – to go through what it will mean to “eat” his flesh and blood, to associate so closely with Jesus that it will be like he is in them and they are in him. But there is one notable if not surprising exception.
“Simon Peter answered him, 'Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life’...” (vs 68)
This is a profound moment of clarity and priority for Peter and the rest who stayed. It is less important that Jesus might be hard to follow. It is less important that he will say and do things that may be hard to accept. It is less important that blood might be shed in following Him. It is more important that Jesus has the words of life.
The disciples who walked away from Christ that day chose what looked like the easier path, but lost life abundantly and life eternal. Peter’s life did not become immediately easy or perfect, but in choosing to follow Christ come what may, he found God’s life.
Monday, May 10, 2010
Knowing God
John 7:1-18
Jesus is a controversial figure. Divisive, even. And I speak of the Jesus of Scripture, of course. The “nice guy” Jesus of our culture is not only uncontroversial, he isn’t even interesting. He wants everyone to get alone, he is OK with other gods, and he loves you just the way you are. But when we come into contact with the Jesus of Scripture he immediately divides the room. And such is the case with the story of John 7. Jesus reenters Jerusalem for another feast of the Jews and even before the people know he is there, they are divided about who he is.
If we put ourselves in the places of the people in Jerusalem trying to figure out who Jesus is, we are presented with a real problem. There are those who say he is a great teacher, those who claim he is a rotten teacher. There are those who go so far as to say he is the Messiah, and those who want to kill him for blasphemy. One way or another, Jesus was not – and is not – a boring figure.
So how are we to decide who Jesus is? Are there better or worse ways to understand who he is? If we put it another way, if our spiritual formation depends on getting Jesus right, how do we get him right? In the course of the conversations in chapter 7, Jesus gives us at least two answers to this question. The first is all about our desires.
“If anyone’s will is to do God’s will, he will know whether the teaching is from God or whether I am speaking on my own authority.” (vs. 17)
If our wills are pointed in the right direction, Jesus promises us that we will come to a deeper and more accurate understanding of God and a more intimate relationship with him. If we can understand our will as something guided by our most powerful desires, if our desires are healthy our relationship with God will become healthier. And we have already seen this truth in action in John’s Gospel. In chapter 5, the Jewish leaders cared more for their Sabbath laws than the healing of a life-long paralytic, so they not only missed Jesus, they decided to kill him. The first story of John 7 involves Jesus’ brothers as mockers and tempters. As such, they completely missed who Jesus truly was. In contrast, after hearing a very difficult conversation about what it would mean to follow Jesus, Peter proclaimed that there was nowhere else for them to go. He would follow Jesus no matter what followed. That decision didn’t make Peter’s life perfect, but it did mean he found Jesus.
The second way is through our glory.
“The one who speaks on his own authority seeks his own glory; but the one who seeks the glory of him who sent him is true, and in him there is no falsehood.” (vs. 18)
As our example, the Son of God, the second member of the Trinity, God in flesh, lived for the glory of God and it resulted in the truth of God here on earth. I, a simple and broken human being, am tempted on a regular basis to replace God’s glory with my own. Through my daily life of taking care of people, tasks, and self I become habitually caught up in me and my life. But we learn through Christ that glory is a glimpse into who does and does not see God.
If Christ’s life on earth was lived to the glory of God and he is known because of it, how much more will I see, experience, and reveal that life if I live for the glory of God.
Jesus is a controversial figure. Divisive, even. And I speak of the Jesus of Scripture, of course. The “nice guy” Jesus of our culture is not only uncontroversial, he isn’t even interesting. He wants everyone to get alone, he is OK with other gods, and he loves you just the way you are. But when we come into contact with the Jesus of Scripture he immediately divides the room. And such is the case with the story of John 7. Jesus reenters Jerusalem for another feast of the Jews and even before the people know he is there, they are divided about who he is.
If we put ourselves in the places of the people in Jerusalem trying to figure out who Jesus is, we are presented with a real problem. There are those who say he is a great teacher, those who claim he is a rotten teacher. There are those who go so far as to say he is the Messiah, and those who want to kill him for blasphemy. One way or another, Jesus was not – and is not – a boring figure.
So how are we to decide who Jesus is? Are there better or worse ways to understand who he is? If we put it another way, if our spiritual formation depends on getting Jesus right, how do we get him right? In the course of the conversations in chapter 7, Jesus gives us at least two answers to this question. The first is all about our desires.
“If anyone’s will is to do God’s will, he will know whether the teaching is from God or whether I am speaking on my own authority.” (vs. 17)
If our wills are pointed in the right direction, Jesus promises us that we will come to a deeper and more accurate understanding of God and a more intimate relationship with him. If we can understand our will as something guided by our most powerful desires, if our desires are healthy our relationship with God will become healthier. And we have already seen this truth in action in John’s Gospel. In chapter 5, the Jewish leaders cared more for their Sabbath laws than the healing of a life-long paralytic, so they not only missed Jesus, they decided to kill him. The first story of John 7 involves Jesus’ brothers as mockers and tempters. As such, they completely missed who Jesus truly was. In contrast, after hearing a very difficult conversation about what it would mean to follow Jesus, Peter proclaimed that there was nowhere else for them to go. He would follow Jesus no matter what followed. That decision didn’t make Peter’s life perfect, but it did mean he found Jesus.
The second way is through our glory.
“The one who speaks on his own authority seeks his own glory; but the one who seeks the glory of him who sent him is true, and in him there is no falsehood.” (vs. 18)
As our example, the Son of God, the second member of the Trinity, God in flesh, lived for the glory of God and it resulted in the truth of God here on earth. I, a simple and broken human being, am tempted on a regular basis to replace God’s glory with my own. Through my daily life of taking care of people, tasks, and self I become habitually caught up in me and my life. But we learn through Christ that glory is a glimpse into who does and does not see God.
If Christ’s life on earth was lived to the glory of God and he is known because of it, how much more will I see, experience, and reveal that life if I live for the glory of God.
Monday, March 29, 2010
An Impossibility, A Questions, And An Action
John 6:1
Jesus and his disciples are on the shore of the Sea of Galilee with a large crowd of people who have followed him almost all the way around the lake. On the side of a mountain there, Jesus teaches all day long. As the sun gets low in the sky, the large crowd has grown hungry and there isn’t a convenient way of feeding them quickly. The large crowd has turned into a large need, and in the face of it, Jesus turns to his disciples and asks, What are you going to do?
“Where are we to buy bread so that these people may eat?”
Jesus poses the problem in purely human and natural terms: bread and money. Philip answers Jesus honestly and openly by noticing that none of them have the money it will take to feed the crowd. He essentially says that nearly a year’s salary is not enough, and we don’t have anything like that. Philip hasn’t given a bad answer – he simply recognizes what Jesus wants him to see, that the need is impossible to meet.
“He said this to test him for he himself knew what he would do.”
While Philip does the math, Andrew looks around to see how much food he can scrounge up. He comes up with a boy with 5 barely loaves and 2 fish and recognizes how insufficient they are to the task laid before them by Jesus. One sack lunch will not feed the crowd.
Both Philip and Andrew take note of how impossible the task is, but Jesus is testing them, he is pressing them to see things differently. I like the way the Message paraphrases that sentence, “He said this to stretch Philip’s faith.” In their hands with what they are able to provide, the massive need before them will never be met. But Jesus wants them to see things through a different lens – through what is possible through him.
What happens next is the twist in the story that makes all the difference. In fact, the lesson goes by so fast, we are apt to miss it. After having the crowd seated on the grassy hillside (remind you of Psalm 23?), Jesus does something that is the lesson. The action is the point of the story.
“Jesus then took the loaves…”
Jesus literally took matters into his own hands and the crowd was fed to overflowing. Everyone had everything they could eat and there was enough left over for each disciple to carry around a basketful of more bread than they began with. Jesus took everything the disciples and the crowd could give him, which was totally insufficient to the task, and fed to overflowing.
It is beautiful what Jesus can do with what humble and submitted people give him. We cannot meet a single need in our own power, but Jesus can satisfy them all.
The lesson Jesus teaches his disciples from the first question to the moment when they pick up the leftovers is that we can never meet people’s needs – their deepest and truest needs – with our own power. We are always insufficient to the task. But these gifts and these goods placed in the hands of the Son of God makes all the difference.
In the hands of Jesus, all can be fed.
Jesus and his disciples are on the shore of the Sea of Galilee with a large crowd of people who have followed him almost all the way around the lake. On the side of a mountain there, Jesus teaches all day long. As the sun gets low in the sky, the large crowd has grown hungry and there isn’t a convenient way of feeding them quickly. The large crowd has turned into a large need, and in the face of it, Jesus turns to his disciples and asks, What are you going to do?
“Where are we to buy bread so that these people may eat?”
Jesus poses the problem in purely human and natural terms: bread and money. Philip answers Jesus honestly and openly by noticing that none of them have the money it will take to feed the crowd. He essentially says that nearly a year’s salary is not enough, and we don’t have anything like that. Philip hasn’t given a bad answer – he simply recognizes what Jesus wants him to see, that the need is impossible to meet.
“He said this to test him for he himself knew what he would do.”
While Philip does the math, Andrew looks around to see how much food he can scrounge up. He comes up with a boy with 5 barely loaves and 2 fish and recognizes how insufficient they are to the task laid before them by Jesus. One sack lunch will not feed the crowd.
Both Philip and Andrew take note of how impossible the task is, but Jesus is testing them, he is pressing them to see things differently. I like the way the Message paraphrases that sentence, “He said this to stretch Philip’s faith.” In their hands with what they are able to provide, the massive need before them will never be met. But Jesus wants them to see things through a different lens – through what is possible through him.
What happens next is the twist in the story that makes all the difference. In fact, the lesson goes by so fast, we are apt to miss it. After having the crowd seated on the grassy hillside (remind you of Psalm 23?), Jesus does something that is the lesson. The action is the point of the story.
“Jesus then took the loaves…”
Jesus literally took matters into his own hands and the crowd was fed to overflowing. Everyone had everything they could eat and there was enough left over for each disciple to carry around a basketful of more bread than they began with. Jesus took everything the disciples and the crowd could give him, which was totally insufficient to the task, and fed to overflowing.
It is beautiful what Jesus can do with what humble and submitted people give him. We cannot meet a single need in our own power, but Jesus can satisfy them all.
The lesson Jesus teaches his disciples from the first question to the moment when they pick up the leftovers is that we can never meet people’s needs – their deepest and truest needs – with our own power. We are always insufficient to the task. But these gifts and these goods placed in the hands of the Son of God makes all the difference.
In the hands of Jesus, all can be fed.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
God Loves the World
John 3:16-21
How would you finish the phrase, “Love is…”? We could, and we often do, put all kinds of things and people into that sentence. We use “love” to apply to a radical array and variety of items in our lives. I love a well made mocha. I also love my wife. I love hiking in the Colorado Rockies. I also love my friends. Because we use this word to apply to so many different things, we often lose sight of the power and meaning of love. Sometimes, when a word means almost anything, it comes to mean almost nothing.
So, what does it mean that “God so loved the world” that he gave his one and only Son? John uses a powerful word for love here, and we ought to look at it in at least three ways. This love is attention. When we have a deep love for someone or something, it consumes our attention. They are on our minds often if not all the time, and we are interested in their well-being and their condition. To love a thing is to give our attention to a thing.
This love is also attachment. When we love a thing, a person, or an idea, we will attach ourselves to them. We will rearrange our lives and prioritize our time so we can be with, or think about, or do for those people. My heart, my mind, and my life will attach themselves to the things I love.
This love is also sacrifice. We sacrifice for the things we love. And we sacrifice to the degree we love them. I will sacrifice money for a good meal. But there are people in my life for whom I would sacrifice my life.
God so loved the world that he gave all these things to us. He has lavished his attention upon us in the form of his Son. Christ came to reveal the will and heart of the Father in his life among us. God also attached himself to this world through the incarnation. Jesus took on real flesh and bone and lived a human life as God with us. And then God sacrificed for us out of his love. Jesus suffered real betrayal, humiliation and pain. Jesus really did die a torturous death upon a cross, forsaken by his closest friends. It cost God to love us.
And in this love we see the will of God. We become shockingly aware of what God wants when we pay attention to his love. We, his creation, were separated from him and lost in our brokenness and sin. He saw the chasm and initiated reconciliation through giving us his Son. Paul says that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us (Rom 5:6-8). The disciple Peter says that God’s will is that none should perish, but that all would come to repentance (2 Peter 3:9).
But just as we learn of God by his love, we also learn from our loves. The problem is not with God’s love, but with ours. Jesus is clear that though the light came into the darkness, people did not receive him because they loved darkness rather than the light (John 3:19). The shocking thing is, our love of darkness is just as deep as God’s love for us. God loves (agape) the world, but humans love (agape) darkness.
So then, where is my mind naturally drawn? To whom and what am I naturally willing to attach myself? What do I naturally sacrifice for? Just as God’s love drives him into our lives to reconcile us to himself, our loves, when they remain in darkness, blind us to the gift of God.
But that is not the end of the story, because, God so loved the world that he gave his only Son to us that we might believe and not perish, but have everlasting life. God loves the world.
How would you finish the phrase, “Love is…”? We could, and we often do, put all kinds of things and people into that sentence. We use “love” to apply to a radical array and variety of items in our lives. I love a well made mocha. I also love my wife. I love hiking in the Colorado Rockies. I also love my friends. Because we use this word to apply to so many different things, we often lose sight of the power and meaning of love. Sometimes, when a word means almost anything, it comes to mean almost nothing.
So, what does it mean that “God so loved the world” that he gave his one and only Son? John uses a powerful word for love here, and we ought to look at it in at least three ways. This love is attention. When we have a deep love for someone or something, it consumes our attention. They are on our minds often if not all the time, and we are interested in their well-being and their condition. To love a thing is to give our attention to a thing.
This love is also attachment. When we love a thing, a person, or an idea, we will attach ourselves to them. We will rearrange our lives and prioritize our time so we can be with, or think about, or do for those people. My heart, my mind, and my life will attach themselves to the things I love.
This love is also sacrifice. We sacrifice for the things we love. And we sacrifice to the degree we love them. I will sacrifice money for a good meal. But there are people in my life for whom I would sacrifice my life.
God so loved the world that he gave all these things to us. He has lavished his attention upon us in the form of his Son. Christ came to reveal the will and heart of the Father in his life among us. God also attached himself to this world through the incarnation. Jesus took on real flesh and bone and lived a human life as God with us. And then God sacrificed for us out of his love. Jesus suffered real betrayal, humiliation and pain. Jesus really did die a torturous death upon a cross, forsaken by his closest friends. It cost God to love us.
And in this love we see the will of God. We become shockingly aware of what God wants when we pay attention to his love. We, his creation, were separated from him and lost in our brokenness and sin. He saw the chasm and initiated reconciliation through giving us his Son. Paul says that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us (Rom 5:6-8). The disciple Peter says that God’s will is that none should perish, but that all would come to repentance (2 Peter 3:9).
But just as we learn of God by his love, we also learn from our loves. The problem is not with God’s love, but with ours. Jesus is clear that though the light came into the darkness, people did not receive him because they loved darkness rather than the light (John 3:19). The shocking thing is, our love of darkness is just as deep as God’s love for us. God loves (agape) the world, but humans love (agape) darkness.
So then, where is my mind naturally drawn? To whom and what am I naturally willing to attach myself? What do I naturally sacrifice for? Just as God’s love drives him into our lives to reconcile us to himself, our loves, when they remain in darkness, blind us to the gift of God.
But that is not the end of the story, because, God so loved the world that he gave his only Son to us that we might believe and not perish, but have everlasting life. God loves the world.
Monday, January 4, 2010
Why Does God Care?
John 2:1-12
Have you ever wondered what God cares about? What is it that catches his attention? What in this universe moves God? After all, he is the Creator, the Author of all time and history, and he knows the position of every atom and molecule in the universe. He sees the beginning from the end and all of human history is simply a glance for God. There are a lot of grand and magnificent things for God to take care of and large sweeps in human affairs for God to pay attention to. Have you ever wondered if God really does take notice – and care – about the microscopic scope of your life?
Jesus’ first miracle in John’s Gospel is a telling glimpse into these questions. And not only does it begin to tell us what kinds of things God cares about, but more importantly, it shows us why he cares about them.
Jesus, his disciples and his mother are invited to a wedding in Cana in Galilee. They travel a few miles from the tiny and humble hamlet of Nazareth to the tiny and humble town of Cana. Like the small villages around it, Cana is obscure, simple, and even poor. From the very start there are very few people here to even behold the glory that is the miracle Jesus is about to perform. Then, when the wine runs out, Jesus and his mother have a conversation about what needs to happen. Though he gently rebuffs her for placing expectation upon him, Mary responds with the right kind of surrender and faith by telling the servants to do whatever Jesus tells them to do.
Then, in this small town at an anonymous wedding celebration, Jesus is left alone with a couple of servants and a handful of young disciples. And it is there, in the back hallway of the house that Jesus performs the first of his miracles.
Though Jesus is teaching his disciples something deep and meaningful about him and his mission on earth, there is no getting around the simple fact that there is also a wedding that needs saving. Jesus saves the groom and his family embarrassment and even shame by quietly turning 180 gallons of water into wine.
I struggle from time to time over the care and attention of God. Of all the things and people in this universe, can it really be true that God not only sees me (is simply aware of my presence the way I am aware of harmless spiders in my basement) but that he cares (more deeply than I care for my own family)? Then I read a passage like this one and am reassured that God reaches even into the simple and humble recesses of life and is ready to perform the miraculous. Not even a sparrow falls to the ground apart from my Father’s attention, and in his eyes, I am worth more that many sparrows.
But John also tells us why Jesus works wonders in the humble estate of my life. After a miracle performed in an out of the way town among only a handful of unimportant people, John says, “This, the first of his signs, Jesus did at Cana in Galilee, and manifested his glory. And his disciples believed in him.”
Why is Christ at work in even my life? Every ounce of his activity in my life is designed to reveal the divine splendor and the eternal power and might of my God. He does not work in and through me so that the world might see me – it is so the world around me may see the glory of my Savior and that they might place their trust and confidence in him.
Every moment of my life is pregnant with the glory of God.
Have you ever wondered what God cares about? What is it that catches his attention? What in this universe moves God? After all, he is the Creator, the Author of all time and history, and he knows the position of every atom and molecule in the universe. He sees the beginning from the end and all of human history is simply a glance for God. There are a lot of grand and magnificent things for God to take care of and large sweeps in human affairs for God to pay attention to. Have you ever wondered if God really does take notice – and care – about the microscopic scope of your life?
Jesus’ first miracle in John’s Gospel is a telling glimpse into these questions. And not only does it begin to tell us what kinds of things God cares about, but more importantly, it shows us why he cares about them.
Jesus, his disciples and his mother are invited to a wedding in Cana in Galilee. They travel a few miles from the tiny and humble hamlet of Nazareth to the tiny and humble town of Cana. Like the small villages around it, Cana is obscure, simple, and even poor. From the very start there are very few people here to even behold the glory that is the miracle Jesus is about to perform. Then, when the wine runs out, Jesus and his mother have a conversation about what needs to happen. Though he gently rebuffs her for placing expectation upon him, Mary responds with the right kind of surrender and faith by telling the servants to do whatever Jesus tells them to do.
Then, in this small town at an anonymous wedding celebration, Jesus is left alone with a couple of servants and a handful of young disciples. And it is there, in the back hallway of the house that Jesus performs the first of his miracles.
Though Jesus is teaching his disciples something deep and meaningful about him and his mission on earth, there is no getting around the simple fact that there is also a wedding that needs saving. Jesus saves the groom and his family embarrassment and even shame by quietly turning 180 gallons of water into wine.
I struggle from time to time over the care and attention of God. Of all the things and people in this universe, can it really be true that God not only sees me (is simply aware of my presence the way I am aware of harmless spiders in my basement) but that he cares (more deeply than I care for my own family)? Then I read a passage like this one and am reassured that God reaches even into the simple and humble recesses of life and is ready to perform the miraculous. Not even a sparrow falls to the ground apart from my Father’s attention, and in his eyes, I am worth more that many sparrows.
But John also tells us why Jesus works wonders in the humble estate of my life. After a miracle performed in an out of the way town among only a handful of unimportant people, John says, “This, the first of his signs, Jesus did at Cana in Galilee, and manifested his glory. And his disciples believed in him.”
Why is Christ at work in even my life? Every ounce of his activity in my life is designed to reveal the divine splendor and the eternal power and might of my God. He does not work in and through me so that the world might see me – it is so the world around me may see the glory of my Savior and that they might place their trust and confidence in him.
Every moment of my life is pregnant with the glory of God.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
