Romans 1:1-7
There is a lot we can learn about the Christian life from the way the apostle Paul introduces himself in his letters. Though these sections often feel like simple boiler-plate, they contain far more than inconsequential pieces of information about Paul. They become doors of insight into some of the goals of the Christian life. They challenge us to be able to introduce ourselves in the same way with the same level of authenticity.
“Paul, a servant of Jesus Christ.” Paul likes describing himself as a servant, the word means a willing slave, to Jesus Christ. We cannot confuse his sense of servanthood with our notion of slavery, however. When we encounter the concept, we tend to think of people carried across the world against their will, and the best thing we could do for them is set them free. The best thing for Paul, as far as Paul is concerned, is his willing slavery to his Savior. Paul has subjected himself to Jesus Christ as a servant on purpose. Have I?
“Paul…called to be an apostle.” Paul is called. This means God has done something with Paul. For most of us it could be said that we are doing something with ourselves, but that leaves us in the position of being subject to our own shortcomings and failings. A calling by God means there can be a divine purpose for our being and our doing instead of just my purposes for being and doing. As Paul will make clear over and over, being called by God means we are called to salvation for occupation. God does the work of making us His own, and then we are to live for and work for Him.
Paul is an apostle. In its simplest form, the term means he is a messenger. Paul travelled the Mediterranean world taking the Gospel to people who had never heard. And though Paul is one of the original, and probably unique, apostles, we are not exempt from the task. Before his introduction is over he tells his readers that “we have received grace and apostleship” (vs. 5).
Paul also addresses all of his readers, as he does in so many of his letters, as saints. He says the Romans were “called to be saints” (vs. 7). If we conjure up images of “saints,” our heads might be filled with half-remembered paintings of people with halos, and stories of special devotion to God under harsh and trying circumstances. And though those people may legitimately be saints, such images have the unfortunate effect of separating the rest of us from the calling of saint.
Paul says you are called to be saints – every one of you. If we strip away the caricatures, we see that people called to be saints have a new life running through their veins that is not tarnished or overcome by this world. We see that people who are called to be saints are anchored and secure in Christ. Saints are not people whose lives are free from storms, but people whose lives are safe and secure in every storm. And people who are called to be saints are not sedentary – they change things for the Kingdom of God.
You are called to be a saint. Anything less is beneath your dignity. Anything less is beneath who God created you to be.
Monday, May 9, 2011
Thursday, April 28, 2011
The God of Fear and Mercy
Habakkuk 3:1-2
The prophet laid his heart – his broken and frustrated heart – out to God. Habakkuk saw evil and injustice around him and prayed for God’s presence and justice. In his anger the prophet cried out, and in His wisdom God responded. The first two chapters of this intense little book are a back-and-forth between the prophet and his God about where God is and what a holy and good God will do with a world like this. At one point God tells Habakkuk that He will indeed show up, but the prophet won’t like it when he does. But the prophet remains steadfast in his desire to hear from God and continue his “complaint.” But something changes the prophet’s perspective – God speaks, God explains, and God shows who He is.
And as a result, the complaining ceases and the prayer begins.
Chapter three is not the continuation of a complaint, but a psalm of prayer and worship. Not only is it something the prophet writes to express his personal reaction to the glory and power of God, he writes it for the whole congregation to sing. The “Shigionoth” is likely a form of music, and at the very end Habakkuk notes, “To the choirmaster: with stringed instruments.” We are all supposed to sing this prayer together because we all live in the same world, are beset with the same kinds of frustrations and evils, and because we all worship the same kind of glorious and powerful God.
The prayer begins with Habakkuk telling us where he now stands with God. In the beginning he stood in complaint against God crying out to the heavens without any response. Now he tells us God is great and deserving of our fear and awe.
“O Lord, I have heard the report of you, and your work O Lord, do I fear.”
In essence, Habakkuk says, “I have heard about you and have seen what you can do, and now I am afraid of you.” It is entirely appropriate and right for the believer to realize the God they worship is worthy to be feared. He is not a small and swayable god who exists to do nice things for us and to make everything “OK.” He is the God who can level mountains, dry up seas and destroy entire empires. We need to relearn how to come to God with the right sense of fear, awe and reverence. The right worship of God necessarily includes reverence.
But He is not an arbitrary tyrant in the sky who cannot be approached. Habakkuk does not move from an expression of the fear of the Lord to a plea to an oppressor. Instead, he turns to God in prayer for his people. This revered God is a God who hears His people’s prayers.
“In the midst of the years revive it.” Habakkuk prays that God will, even now, bring life to a rebellious and dead people. May it be today!
“In the midst of the years make it known.” Habakkuk prays that God will make himself and his work known in a world that rejects and ignores his counsel. May it be today!
“In wrath remember mercy.” Habakkuk will behold the ravaging destruction of his people. It will seem that wrath will have the last word, but he prays that God will remember and return in mercy, as he in fact does. May it be today that the mercy of God will prevail, many will come to know him, and his glory will be seen!
The prophet laid his heart – his broken and frustrated heart – out to God. Habakkuk saw evil and injustice around him and prayed for God’s presence and justice. In his anger the prophet cried out, and in His wisdom God responded. The first two chapters of this intense little book are a back-and-forth between the prophet and his God about where God is and what a holy and good God will do with a world like this. At one point God tells Habakkuk that He will indeed show up, but the prophet won’t like it when he does. But the prophet remains steadfast in his desire to hear from God and continue his “complaint.” But something changes the prophet’s perspective – God speaks, God explains, and God shows who He is.
And as a result, the complaining ceases and the prayer begins.
Chapter three is not the continuation of a complaint, but a psalm of prayer and worship. Not only is it something the prophet writes to express his personal reaction to the glory and power of God, he writes it for the whole congregation to sing. The “Shigionoth” is likely a form of music, and at the very end Habakkuk notes, “To the choirmaster: with stringed instruments.” We are all supposed to sing this prayer together because we all live in the same world, are beset with the same kinds of frustrations and evils, and because we all worship the same kind of glorious and powerful God.
The prayer begins with Habakkuk telling us where he now stands with God. In the beginning he stood in complaint against God crying out to the heavens without any response. Now he tells us God is great and deserving of our fear and awe.
“O Lord, I have heard the report of you, and your work O Lord, do I fear.”
In essence, Habakkuk says, “I have heard about you and have seen what you can do, and now I am afraid of you.” It is entirely appropriate and right for the believer to realize the God they worship is worthy to be feared. He is not a small and swayable god who exists to do nice things for us and to make everything “OK.” He is the God who can level mountains, dry up seas and destroy entire empires. We need to relearn how to come to God with the right sense of fear, awe and reverence. The right worship of God necessarily includes reverence.
But He is not an arbitrary tyrant in the sky who cannot be approached. Habakkuk does not move from an expression of the fear of the Lord to a plea to an oppressor. Instead, he turns to God in prayer for his people. This revered God is a God who hears His people’s prayers.
“In the midst of the years revive it.” Habakkuk prays that God will, even now, bring life to a rebellious and dead people. May it be today!
“In the midst of the years make it known.” Habakkuk prays that God will make himself and his work known in a world that rejects and ignores his counsel. May it be today!
“In wrath remember mercy.” Habakkuk will behold the ravaging destruction of his people. It will seem that wrath will have the last word, but he prays that God will remember and return in mercy, as he in fact does. May it be today that the mercy of God will prevail, many will come to know him, and his glory will be seen!
Monday, February 28, 2011
The Law of the Lord is Glorious
Psalm 19:7-11
There are times when a passage of Scripture is so well known to us, that in reading it we may lose sight of the context or the passage that follows. The opening praise of Psalm 19 is so catching it is easy to miss the lines that follow. It is gloriously true that all of creation sings the wonder and praise of its Creator. It is no less true that the law of the Lord is itself glorious.
This passage looks at the law of God the way we may rotate a crystal under a light. With each turn we see a new facet, a new color emerges. David rotates the law of God under a light and with each turn of phrase we learn something new and beautiful about the ways and precepts of our God.
The law of the Lord is perfect, reviving the soul.
There is nothing lacking in the law of the Lord. If we are searching for wisdom, meaning and truth, there is nowhere else to go. And since each human has an insatiable longing for God, it is only He who can quench that thirst.
The testimony of the Lord is sure, making wise the simple.
All God says is completely trustworthy. When we trust in the ways and wisdom of men, the wise become foolish. When the simple trust in the absolutely sure and steadfast word of God, they become wise.
The precepts of the Lord are right, rejoicing the heart.
We look for joy in all the wrong places. We return again and again to the empty and leaking wells of this world, when obedience to God’s precepts provides true joy.
The commandment of the Lord is pure, enlightening our eyes.
They are pure the way light is radiant. We cannot see in the dark – there is no light for our eyes to use. But when the light shines, our eyes work the way they were created to work and we see. The commands of our Lord shine on our lives, and in obedience we see.
The fear of the Lord is clean, enduring forever.
Our reverence can be measured by the thing we revere. To be in awe of empires and political schemes is to have a small and unrequited awe. But the fear of the Lord is fear rightfully and eternally placed. He is greater than and will outlast every human endeavor. Thus, the fear of the Lord is right and eternal.
The rules of the Lord are true, and righteous altogether.
My rules are not true. Your rules are not true. Neither are ours righteous for they are by necessity stained with our sin and short-sightedness. The rules of the Lord are not easy and comfortable to follow, but they are true and wholly right. His rules do not always fit well with what I want to do with myself, but they are my only source of true, righteous and moral guidance.
These laws and ways are to be desired more than any other thing.
There are times when a passage of Scripture is so well known to us, that in reading it we may lose sight of the context or the passage that follows. The opening praise of Psalm 19 is so catching it is easy to miss the lines that follow. It is gloriously true that all of creation sings the wonder and praise of its Creator. It is no less true that the law of the Lord is itself glorious.
This passage looks at the law of God the way we may rotate a crystal under a light. With each turn we see a new facet, a new color emerges. David rotates the law of God under a light and with each turn of phrase we learn something new and beautiful about the ways and precepts of our God.
The law of the Lord is perfect, reviving the soul.
There is nothing lacking in the law of the Lord. If we are searching for wisdom, meaning and truth, there is nowhere else to go. And since each human has an insatiable longing for God, it is only He who can quench that thirst.
The testimony of the Lord is sure, making wise the simple.
All God says is completely trustworthy. When we trust in the ways and wisdom of men, the wise become foolish. When the simple trust in the absolutely sure and steadfast word of God, they become wise.
The precepts of the Lord are right, rejoicing the heart.
We look for joy in all the wrong places. We return again and again to the empty and leaking wells of this world, when obedience to God’s precepts provides true joy.
The commandment of the Lord is pure, enlightening our eyes.
They are pure the way light is radiant. We cannot see in the dark – there is no light for our eyes to use. But when the light shines, our eyes work the way they were created to work and we see. The commands of our Lord shine on our lives, and in obedience we see.
The fear of the Lord is clean, enduring forever.
Our reverence can be measured by the thing we revere. To be in awe of empires and political schemes is to have a small and unrequited awe. But the fear of the Lord is fear rightfully and eternally placed. He is greater than and will outlast every human endeavor. Thus, the fear of the Lord is right and eternal.
The rules of the Lord are true, and righteous altogether.
My rules are not true. Your rules are not true. Neither are ours righteous for they are by necessity stained with our sin and short-sightedness. The rules of the Lord are not easy and comfortable to follow, but they are true and wholly right. His rules do not always fit well with what I want to do with myself, but they are my only source of true, righteous and moral guidance.
These laws and ways are to be desired more than any other thing.
Monday, January 31, 2011
Relearning Obedience
John 21:1-14
As the disciple John closes his gospel, he notes that Jesus revealed himself to his disciples in a particular way. The story of the great catch of fish is not just a filler between the resurrection and Jesus’ restoration of Peter, it is a deliberate act of revelation from Jesus to his disciples. And it is a revelation that happens through a simple, but consequential, act of obedience.
None of us are naturally tuned to happily and consistently obey the will of God. We naturally obey ourselves and the easy inclinations of the flesh, and learning to obey Christ is work that cuts against the grain of our nature. We often misunderstand obedience to God as a wearisome and life-destroying task, so we are wrongly prejudiced against it before we begin. But this fish story teaches us that obedience is in truth an amazing thing. Obedience is revelation about God, it is the entrance into his will, and it is the source of his power and the work of his kingdom. In all, the call to obedience is God’s invitation for us to join in his work and his will.
They fished all night and caught nothing. Like everywhere else in John’s gospel, work in the dark is fruitless. But just as the morning begins to dawn and light strikes the seashore, a stranger becomes visible and tells them to cast their nets on the right side of the boat. Amazingly, these frustrated and professional fishermen do it. And as soon as they do, an empty net becomes full and a fruitless night becomes a fruitful morning.
As soon as the fish are in the net, John sees something. He cries, “It is the Lord!” (vs. 7) They didn’t recognize Jesus until after an act of obedience. And the revelation here is the result of an act of obedience – obedience shows us God.
Obedience is a teacher. When we obey God rather than our own ways, we learn through experience that his ways are higher than ours and his power is greater than ours. The professionals were failing under their own power on the sea. Disciples brought in a net full of fish by obeying a simple command.
After Peter swims to shore and the remaining disciples pull in the catch, they all stand before their risen Savior. He has already prepared them breakfast: “When they got out on land, they saw a charcoal fire in place, with fish laid out on it, and bread.” (vs. 9) The disciples caught 153 large fish, and Jesus didn’t need a single one of them. This causes me to wonder, why the great catch of fish? Did they catch fish to provide Jesus with something he didn’t have? Were they bringing him something he couldn’t get on his own?
Was their act of obedience an act of giving Jesus something he lacked or something they lacked? Was their obedience about what he needed or what they needed?
We obey God because he is our Lord and we are his people. But we also obey God for our own sake – to fill our lack and to meet our need. Our obedience is God’s way of filling us with himself and bringing us into his work in his kingdom. He had already caught the fish he needed to feed them. They needed to learn that obedience brings them into the work he is already doing.
Obey the word and will of God today and you will find a Savior ready and waiting to fill you with his abundance.
As the disciple John closes his gospel, he notes that Jesus revealed himself to his disciples in a particular way. The story of the great catch of fish is not just a filler between the resurrection and Jesus’ restoration of Peter, it is a deliberate act of revelation from Jesus to his disciples. And it is a revelation that happens through a simple, but consequential, act of obedience.
None of us are naturally tuned to happily and consistently obey the will of God. We naturally obey ourselves and the easy inclinations of the flesh, and learning to obey Christ is work that cuts against the grain of our nature. We often misunderstand obedience to God as a wearisome and life-destroying task, so we are wrongly prejudiced against it before we begin. But this fish story teaches us that obedience is in truth an amazing thing. Obedience is revelation about God, it is the entrance into his will, and it is the source of his power and the work of his kingdom. In all, the call to obedience is God’s invitation for us to join in his work and his will.
They fished all night and caught nothing. Like everywhere else in John’s gospel, work in the dark is fruitless. But just as the morning begins to dawn and light strikes the seashore, a stranger becomes visible and tells them to cast their nets on the right side of the boat. Amazingly, these frustrated and professional fishermen do it. And as soon as they do, an empty net becomes full and a fruitless night becomes a fruitful morning.
As soon as the fish are in the net, John sees something. He cries, “It is the Lord!” (vs. 7) They didn’t recognize Jesus until after an act of obedience. And the revelation here is the result of an act of obedience – obedience shows us God.
Obedience is a teacher. When we obey God rather than our own ways, we learn through experience that his ways are higher than ours and his power is greater than ours. The professionals were failing under their own power on the sea. Disciples brought in a net full of fish by obeying a simple command.
After Peter swims to shore and the remaining disciples pull in the catch, they all stand before their risen Savior. He has already prepared them breakfast: “When they got out on land, they saw a charcoal fire in place, with fish laid out on it, and bread.” (vs. 9) The disciples caught 153 large fish, and Jesus didn’t need a single one of them. This causes me to wonder, why the great catch of fish? Did they catch fish to provide Jesus with something he didn’t have? Were they bringing him something he couldn’t get on his own?
Was their act of obedience an act of giving Jesus something he lacked or something they lacked? Was their obedience about what he needed or what they needed?
We obey God because he is our Lord and we are his people. But we also obey God for our own sake – to fill our lack and to meet our need. Our obedience is God’s way of filling us with himself and bringing us into his work in his kingdom. He had already caught the fish he needed to feed them. They needed to learn that obedience brings them into the work he is already doing.
Obey the word and will of God today and you will find a Savior ready and waiting to fill you with his abundance.
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Earthly Power, God's Will
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.
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.
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?
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