'We can relate to God as human beings because God is truly Human.' (Walter Wink, The Human Being, 42)
I came across an interesting fact about Jesus a number of years ago that has stuck with me. I'm not certain about the meaning of its significance yet but it has become something of a fixed point in my thinking about Jesus. Jesus referred to himself using the phrase 'son of man' more than any other title. Interestingly, the original disciples rarely used that term for Jesus and the church has used it even less, both groups preferring the title 'son of God.' However, the fact stands that Jesus's favorite designation of himself was 'son of man' (the phrase is used 84 times in the gospels).
What does this mean? Was Jesus more comfortable with his true humanity than those that followed him? Do we tend to ignore Jesus's human nature because we are so preoccupied with his divinity? Does our concept of Jesus's divinity tend to obscure the reality that he was a finite human being subject to the same limitations as all other human beings? These are all good questions that deserve careful consideration. In fact, that is what the quest for the historical Jesus has been doing for over the past two hundred years. Since the Enlightenment scholars have been attempting to understand something of the human Jesus. Such a quest may lead into some scholarly dead ends but the quest itself is certainly important, especially if Jesus truly was the 'son of man.' His humanity cannot be simply absorbed and overshadowed by his divinity, because that would be to make of Jesus another false christ!
Consider these two important texts about the phrase 'son of man.' First, Psalm 8.3-6, 'When I look at your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars that you have established; what are human beings that you are mindful of them, the son of man that you care for him? Pay attention to the parallelism of Hebrew poetry, 'human beings . . . son of man,' 'mindful of them . . . care for him.' The plural 'human beings' is equated with the singular 'son of man.' From this we begin to see that the 'son of man' is not strictly an individual but a symbol of a larger group. Second, carefully study the vision of Dan. 7.14 where the 'son of man' appears as an individual with the interpretation in vss. 21-22, 27 where the kingdom is given to the 'holy ones,' the 'people of the Most High.' 'His kingdom' in vs. 14 is 'their kingdom' in vs. 27. Again we see a collective dimension of the 'son of man' symbol. The 'son of man' is more than just a single individual.
What does all this mean for us? The 'son of man' is a liberating and empowering symbol. It is also the antidote for the imperial 'son of God' christology that has dominated the church since the time of Constantine. The church has often used its image of Jesus as 'son of God' to force believers into submission to the will of a dictatorial leadership. It has taught that human beings are ignorant and cannot be trusted to think for themselves. That human beings are faithless and must be coerced with rules and regulations to act responsibly. In short, the imperial 'son of God' of the Constantinian church has been used to beat people into submission to church traditions rather than to liberate them into the spiritual freedom of the children of God!
Jesus is the head of a true and new humanity. As 'son of man' he does not wish to subjugate us as other imperial leaders, both secular and religious, seek to do. Jesus wants to liberate us from all forms of imperial power and to empower us to resist such power by assisting in the work of his kingdom. Through the 'son of man' we are given 'glory,' 'honor,' and 'dominion' in an 'everlasting kingdom' that 'shall never be destroyed.'
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
Dissecting God
A friend recently described his Bible discussion group as “Dissecting God like a frog staked out on the table.” It struck me as both a challenging analogy and potentially instructive of what our quest to know God should be, or perhaps should not be. This seems relevant as our group embarks on a study of Jesus. Get the gloves, pins and scalpels ready.
What do I learn from my friend’s dissection analogy? First, its not about the frog. Dissection’s purpose is the dissector’s learning. The frog, the subject of the dissection, is destined for the bin at the end of the study. There are plenty more in the pond. It follows, secondly, that the study can destroy the very thing we are studying. Our knowledge is advanced, but at a cost to the subject. Third, there is little or no relationship between the dissector and the dissectee. Sure, no doubt some dissectors develop an affinity for their Kermit, giving his all to facilitate their learning – flippers nailed in place. But the word picture conveys a distant, clinical detachment between the student and the subject of study.
Which brings us back to our study of God ...
“Yep, He raised the dead, walked on water, and fed the multitude, so it must be God.”
There is so much more to know about God. What is He like? So, how do we do that? Well, Jesus reinforced that the Scriptures testify of Him (John 5:39). But He does so while chiding the Pharisees for limiting their seeking after Him to just the Scriptures … “for in them ye think ye have eternal life. And ye will not come to me that ye might have life.” As Jesus says in His John 17 prayer for His disciples, experiencing God through Him is life eternal. The Scriptures cannot or should not limit our study of God. John 1 tells us that the Word of God is more than 39 or 66 books. The witness is everything throughout created time that bears witness to God, and that didn’t stop with John the Baptist.
Marriage is a valuable analogy in understanding that there is a relationship dimension to understanding character. How often have I sought to dissect Angela’s character on the basis of the facts alone. Like Sgt Joe Sunday, … “all we want are the facts, Ma’am.” “This is what you did, … this is what you said.” Therefore, as a social scientist analyzing my wife I (incorrectly) conclude that (a) she is selfish, and (b) she doesn’t love me. I call this the Sola Scriptura approach to spousal analysis – clinical, akin to dissection.
Then Angela reminds me that we have known each other for more than two decades, and experience must contradict those two conclusions. There must be another explanation for Angela’s incongruous words and actions. And I reflect on the fact that, yes, it makes sense that my analytical deductions from the recorded facts must also be consistent with my long-term experience of Angela. I look for other explanations.
As in all relationships, the key to knowing God is to move beyond clinical, detached analysis and dare to experience. “Taste and see that the Lord is good” (Ps 34:8).
1 Peter 2:1-5
What do I learn from my friend’s dissection analogy? First, its not about the frog. Dissection’s purpose is the dissector’s learning. The frog, the subject of the dissection, is destined for the bin at the end of the study. There are plenty more in the pond. It follows, secondly, that the study can destroy the very thing we are studying. Our knowledge is advanced, but at a cost to the subject. Third, there is little or no relationship between the dissector and the dissectee. Sure, no doubt some dissectors develop an affinity for their Kermit, giving his all to facilitate their learning – flippers nailed in place. But the word picture conveys a distant, clinical detachment between the student and the subject of study.
Which brings us back to our study of God ...
- Is it all about us, or about us and God?
- Does our study increase our knowledge, while destroying ‘God’ in our lives?
- Are we involved with the subject of our study?
“Yep, He raised the dead, walked on water, and fed the multitude, so it must be God.”
There is so much more to know about God. What is He like? So, how do we do that? Well, Jesus reinforced that the Scriptures testify of Him (John 5:39). But He does so while chiding the Pharisees for limiting their seeking after Him to just the Scriptures … “for in them ye think ye have eternal life. And ye will not come to me that ye might have life.” As Jesus says in His John 17 prayer for His disciples, experiencing God through Him is life eternal. The Scriptures cannot or should not limit our study of God. John 1 tells us that the Word of God is more than 39 or 66 books. The witness is everything throughout created time that bears witness to God, and that didn’t stop with John the Baptist.
Marriage is a valuable analogy in understanding that there is a relationship dimension to understanding character. How often have I sought to dissect Angela’s character on the basis of the facts alone. Like Sgt Joe Sunday, … “all we want are the facts, Ma’am.” “This is what you did, … this is what you said.” Therefore, as a social scientist analyzing my wife I (incorrectly) conclude that (a) she is selfish, and (b) she doesn’t love me. I call this the Sola Scriptura approach to spousal analysis – clinical, akin to dissection.
Then Angela reminds me that we have known each other for more than two decades, and experience must contradict those two conclusions. There must be another explanation for Angela’s incongruous words and actions. And I reflect on the fact that, yes, it makes sense that my analytical deductions from the recorded facts must also be consistent with my long-term experience of Angela. I look for other explanations.
As in all relationships, the key to knowing God is to move beyond clinical, detached analysis and dare to experience. “Taste and see that the Lord is good” (Ps 34:8).
1 Peter 2:1-5
Therefore, rid yourselves of all malice and all deceit, hypocrisy, envy, and slander of every kind. Like newborn babies, crave pure spiritual milk, so that by it you may grow up in your salvation, now that you have tasted that the Lord is good. As you come to him, the living Stone—rejected by men but chosen by God and precious to him— you also, like living stones, are being built into a spiritual house to be a holy priesthood, offering spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ.
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Patterns of Discipleship
"Heal the sick, cleanse the lepers, raise the dead, cast out devils: freely you have received, freely give." (Matt. 10.8)
Given Jesus's expectations of disciples most of our visions seem pretty insignificant in comparison. Even on a really great spiritual day raising the dead wouldn't make my list of things to do! The behaviors that Jesus commands of his disciples in this verse are more than most of us could imagine even in our wildest spiritual fantasies. We have too many fear-based psychological defense mechanisms in place to permit that kind of reckless spirituality. But maybe it is exactly this kind of thinking beyond-the-possible that is the meaning of faith itself.
Even science would not be possible without a willingness to think beyond the possible. Especially if we think of the possible as that which is, as the status quo way that we conceive of the world. As it turns out the way that we conceive the world can change dramatically, and those that catch a glimpse of the changing paradigm in advance find themselves outside of the realm of the possible. Prior to the twentieth-century the conception of flight itself was merely a fantasy, something that went well beyond what was thought as possible by the vast majority of thinking people.
When viewed through a naturalistic lens the kingdom of God is an utter impossibility. The hard logic of cause and effect as well as the second law of thermodynamics teaches us that wishing for the raising of the dead is foolish. And yet wild hopes for divine healing and life beyond the grave persist. Why? Are we just foolish dreamers that can't handle the harsh truth of the real world? Are such hopes simply compensations for the hard reality of life in a cold, Newtonian universe? Or do such hopes actually connect us with a kingdom of God that challenges all conceptions of what is possible? A kingdom that teaches us to imagine that which is not possible as the first step toward the transformation of what is to the amazing prospect of what could be?
Is it possible that a church that began with a bunch of dreamers and visionaries has become so stunted by the unimaginative status quo that we have lost touch with that kingdom that breaks all boundaries and explodes our conceptions of what is possible?
Given Jesus's expectations of disciples most of our visions seem pretty insignificant in comparison. Even on a really great spiritual day raising the dead wouldn't make my list of things to do! The behaviors that Jesus commands of his disciples in this verse are more than most of us could imagine even in our wildest spiritual fantasies. We have too many fear-based psychological defense mechanisms in place to permit that kind of reckless spirituality. But maybe it is exactly this kind of thinking beyond-the-possible that is the meaning of faith itself.
Even science would not be possible without a willingness to think beyond the possible. Especially if we think of the possible as that which is, as the status quo way that we conceive of the world. As it turns out the way that we conceive the world can change dramatically, and those that catch a glimpse of the changing paradigm in advance find themselves outside of the realm of the possible. Prior to the twentieth-century the conception of flight itself was merely a fantasy, something that went well beyond what was thought as possible by the vast majority of thinking people.
When viewed through a naturalistic lens the kingdom of God is an utter impossibility. The hard logic of cause and effect as well as the second law of thermodynamics teaches us that wishing for the raising of the dead is foolish. And yet wild hopes for divine healing and life beyond the grave persist. Why? Are we just foolish dreamers that can't handle the harsh truth of the real world? Are such hopes simply compensations for the hard reality of life in a cold, Newtonian universe? Or do such hopes actually connect us with a kingdom of God that challenges all conceptions of what is possible? A kingdom that teaches us to imagine that which is not possible as the first step toward the transformation of what is to the amazing prospect of what could be?
Is it possible that a church that began with a bunch of dreamers and visionaries has become so stunted by the unimaginative status quo that we have lost touch with that kingdom that breaks all boundaries and explodes our conceptions of what is possible?
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Vicariously Representing Christ in Our Actions
In thinking of discipleship in action, I was drawn to an interesting quote in Alitalia’s inflight magazine.
“Traveling is part of the pope’s “job”. You are only a “missionary of the word” if you preach it to the four corners of the Earth. It is a condicio sine qua non, a necessity. … Planes are essential and when you travel with popes you realize how small the world is. I remember being struck by the words of St. Francesca Calbrini, the patron saint of emigrants, who said, “the world is too small for me.” She did not just say it, she proved it was true by crossing the Atlantic Ocean twenty-two times on steamships in the late 1800s and early 1900s. “God’s Gypsy”, or the “nun in perpetual motion” crossed the Andes on the back of a mule. Wasn’t America a long way away? Certainly not, for her it was a like a “path to the garden”. Nowadays, we are accustomed to an itinerant Vatican that travels and flies. It is part of the modern-day papacy’s DNA – the other side of his Holiness, who crosses the heavens while waiting to be measured by them. “
And, it occurred to me that it takes more than action. The actions must project God’s character. It takes more than preaching to the four corners of the Earth. What we preach is of more importance than where. As a person not of the Roman Catholic faith, I was positively drawn to the description of the Pope’s personal interactions while traveling.
“… serene, joyful and happy person, because he has accepted this task as an appointment he did not seek; … Nevertheless, he lives naturally and unaffected. His relationship with others is direct and not studied … he does not descend from on high, so people do not feel uncomfortable in his presence, but accepted.”
That is something that would ideally describe every disciple who vicariously presents Christ to the world.
As I wandered around Bologna earlier this week, I marveled at San Petroni, one of the world’s largest churches. In fact it would perhaps have been the largest, if the Vatican had not intervened to ensure it didn’t rival St Peter’s basilica. Lining each side of the church were ornate chapels that were anything but “natural and unaffected”. Interestingly, one chapel contains Modena’s painting that depicts Mohamed being thrown into hell, an artwork recently described as “more offensive than Rushdie’s book, The Satanic Verses.” In front of each chapel were ornate fences with metal spikes along the top that made it clear which side of the fence I was to remain. By putting a coin in the slot I could turn the lights on in these little chapels or light an electric candle in a rack just outside the railing. Clergy stood by to take my confessions and intercede between God and me. As I watched mass – the chanting, the pageantry of the priests’ entry with the ‘host’, I got the sense that God was “on high” and that he was not “descending” any time soon. God was a long way off, and there was certainly nothing too personal about the relationship between God and man.
Now, I probably don’t have standing to opine on what the actions of another Christian denomination say about God, but I can pose for us the question of what our corporate and individual actions demonstrate about the Master. How do we take the roof off our church and let those in need of healing in? (Luke 5) In our churches, what are the equivalents of fences and spikes separating people from a depiction of God?
Do we accept the “catholic” universality of our commissioning as disciples (Acts 10, esp. v 36; Eph 1:15-23; Matt 28:18-20), or place that responsibility on an organization or other human beings?
© Alister L Hunt PhD
Saturday, February 23, 2008
Experiencing Discipleship – Seeing Jesus as He is
“Ronald Jorgensen! He must be the Bassett Rd machine-gun murderer”, said my father as he reviewed my order book for the day. As part of a school fundraising activity, I had just returned from selling nameplates door-to-door, and, as usual, my father would collect my orders, and the students’ orders, and have Formica engraved nameplates made accordingly. I doubt that Dad had time to review each name, but Jorgensen’s name jumped out at him. “What did he look like?”, Dad asked. I described a quiet, serious man, dressed well in a mid-length dress leather jacket. He was polite to me, and he bought a nameplate without any further questions or discussion.
Dad then went on to tell me the story of how Jorgensen and John Gillies had used a Reising sub-machine gun to kill two men who were also part of New Zealand’s relatively unsophisticated underworld. That happened in the early ‘60s, just before I was born, and caused something of a sensation, apparently, due in part to Jorgensen and Gillies’ admission that they had smoked a joint before ‘doing the deed’, and perhaps in greater part because the crime deeply shocked sleepy 1960’s New Zealand and challenged its self-image.
I remember going back to drop off the nameplate, hoping to get a better look at the Bassett Rd machine-gun murderer. Sadly, I never did meet Mr. Jorgensen again. But I am sure I would have seen him in a different light. I followed with interest his subsequent life – his painting, and his mysterious disappearance in 1983. I like to think he is still alive, although if he is alive he would be several years older than Elvis.
Professor Bart Ehrman recently had a similar experience – with God. As a lifelong, active Christian, a clergyman, a Princeton PhD in New Testament studies, and a distinguished Professor of Religious Studies at University of North Carolina, he saw God as good. Then Ehrman began to see God as the celestial equivalent of a machine-gun murderer. Or worse. Machine guns kill quickly and efficiently, but God inflicts prolonged torture … very prolonged torture … like, forever. At least, that is what Ehrman had been taught to believe. As he states,
"I could no longer explain how there can be a good and all-powerful God actively involved with this world, given the state of things. For many people who inhabit this planet, life is a cesspool of misery and suffering. I came to a point where I simply could not believe that there is a good and kindly disposed Ruler who is in charge of it."
He saw God in an entirely different light, and it changed him. As a moral man, Ehrman saw God’s “rap sheet” and concluded that if God is like that, then he cannot be the deity that He purports to be. Thus, He either does not exist or does exist and He is not the Judeo/Christian God who is worthy of our worship. His brief NPR interview earlier this week is well worth listening to:
Like Ehrman, the disciples, Peter, James and John, also saw Jesus in an entirely different light. You have no doubt read the Transfiguration story in Matthew 17. I wonder what would happen to us if we saw Jesus as He truly is? Would we be repulsed as we realized that this Universe is presided over by a majestic machine-gun murderer, or would we have a Revelation 14 experience of worshiping Him who made heaven and earth, the sea and the springs of waters?
© Alister L Hunt PhD
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Preparation for Discipleship
Some years ago I participated in a Buddhist exorcism ceremony in Northern Thailand. Participants in the course I was leading -- senior government officials from the Mekong Delta countries -- became convinced that the residential institute where we lived and learned was infested with ghosts. It didn't help that it was the time in the Buddhist calendar when departed spirits were said to revisit the place of their departure. The Thai staff mentioned that 40 people had died in a building fire on this site, and the human remains had simply been buried with what remained of the building. So, it was apparently natural that the ghosts would return here. But things got really bad when a Laos official reported that a woman crashed through his room's ceiling and lay down in his bed beside him. When he tried to embrace her, she disappeared.
"That's strange", said a Cambodian official, "I had a similar experience." A woman walked through his room's locked, solid door. She continued to walk toward his bed, even though she had no legs. She sat on the end of his bed, conversed with him briefly, and then disappeared. After the initial reports of ghosts and these two authoritative, face-to-face experiences, the Institute was in uproar and classes were almost impossible. I had been out with the class the night before and considered the amount of alcohol consumed to be a reasonable explanation -- the students were 'legless', not just the ghost. And the other noises were probably wild cats. Nevertheless, something had to be done.
And done it was. A Buddhist priest and three monks were summoned to exorcise the ghosts, and a Ministry of Foreign Affairs advisor instructed me that my participation in this ceremony was imperative for demonstrating cultural sensitivity. What this involved was kneeling before a Buddhist altar and before the priests and monks for nearly two hours while they chanted and prayed and transferred energy up and down a string attached to the altar. Officials with cameras were reveling in a PR bonanza.
While kneeling I could think of only two things -- one, the concrete floor with linoleum square tiles, and, two, Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego's witness (Daniel 3:16-18). They were willing to risk death in such circumstances, and I wasn't even willing to risk offending someone.
So, why am I telling you this story? It illustrates the "Salt Principle" in Jesus' instructions to His disciples (Matt 5:13-16). We are the salt of the earth, and salt permeates. As salt, we enter into the life and culture of the people we seek to reach. I had many interesting religious conversations with officials during the course, many of whom were among "the highest in the land". Perhaps I would not have had those opportunities if I had stayed aloof? Conjecture.
Now, compare Jesus' instruction to permeate with Paul's "Stumblingblock Principle" of 1 Corinthians 8. "Be careful, however, that the exercise of your freedom does not become a stumbling block to the weak. For if anyone with a weak conscience sees you who have this knowledge eating in an idol's temple, won't he be emboldened to eat what has been sacrificed to idols? So this weak brother, for whom Christ died, is destroyed by your knowledge."
It is clear to me that the "Salt Principle" of Matthew 5 and the "Stumblingblock Principle" of 1 Corinthians 8 are in tension. When should we permeate, and when should we set ourselves apart? The first principle relates to our obligations to those who do not know Christ, whereas the second principle relates to our obligations to fellow brothers and sisters in Christ. When is one obligation more important than the other? Which is ultimately more important? Can we uphold both principles simultaneously?
Perhaps Jesus' prayer for His disciples, recorded in John 17, is relevant? Jesus speaks of sending his disciples into the world (v11), but states that they are "not of the world" (v14). Jesus notes that in this respect His disciples are just like Him.
And done it was. A Buddhist priest and three monks were summoned to exorcise the ghosts, and a Ministry of Foreign Affairs advisor instructed me that my participation in this ceremony was imperative for demonstrating cultural sensitivity. What this involved was kneeling before a Buddhist altar and before the priests and monks for nearly two hours while they chanted and prayed and transferred energy up and down a string attached to the altar. Officials with cameras were reveling in a PR bonanza.
While kneeling I could think of only two things -- one, the concrete floor with linoleum square tiles, and, two, Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego's witness (Daniel 3:16-18). They were willing to risk death in such circumstances, and I wasn't even willing to risk offending someone.
So, why am I telling you this story? It illustrates the "Salt Principle" in Jesus' instructions to His disciples (Matt 5:13-16). We are the salt of the earth, and salt permeates. As salt, we enter into the life and culture of the people we seek to reach. I had many interesting religious conversations with officials during the course, many of whom were among "the highest in the land". Perhaps I would not have had those opportunities if I had stayed aloof? Conjecture.
Now, compare Jesus' instruction to permeate with Paul's "Stumblingblock Principle" of 1 Corinthians 8. "Be careful, however, that the exercise of your freedom does not become a stumbling block to the weak. For if anyone with a weak conscience sees you who have this knowledge eating in an idol's temple, won't he be emboldened to eat what has been sacrificed to idols? So this weak brother, for whom Christ died, is destroyed by your knowledge."
It is clear to me that the "Salt Principle" of Matthew 5 and the "Stumblingblock Principle" of 1 Corinthians 8 are in tension. When should we permeate, and when should we set ourselves apart? The first principle relates to our obligations to those who do not know Christ, whereas the second principle relates to our obligations to fellow brothers and sisters in Christ. When is one obligation more important than the other? Which is ultimately more important? Can we uphold both principles simultaneously?
Perhaps Jesus' prayer for His disciples, recorded in John 17, is relevant? Jesus speaks of sending his disciples into the world (v11), but states that they are "not of the world" (v14). Jesus notes that in this respect His disciples are just like Him.
Challenging.
BTW, what would you have done in this circumstance?
BTW, what would you have done in this circumstance?
© Alister L Hunt PhD
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
Lessons From Would-Be Disciples
Let's face it. Jesus doesn't want everybody as a disciple. Now I know that goes against the grain of the ideal image of Jesus as a nice guy that we hold in our postmodern minds. But then why would we expect Jesus not to explode our conceptions of him. If the ancient world in which he was born didn't understand him then what makes us think we will do any better? Do we think that we have an advantage because we have two thousand years of Christian history behind us? As if the church has never been wrong about important spiritual things before. Anyway, if you can at least entertain the thought that our popular notions about Jesus could be wrong then consider the following.
In Luke 9.57-62 Jesus actually said some discouraging (I might even say cruel but I know that might really explode your conception of the master! so I won't!) things to a few men that wanted to follow him. At least they said they wanted to follow him and for most people in the leadership business that is good enough. I mean, it's not easy to even get people to want to follow. As one leadership guru used to put it, "If you are leading but no one is following, you're just taking a walk!" So Jesus is really doing something to just stimulate the desire of other people to follow him. And yet this passage in Luke has him making unreasonable demands of those that want to follow him. Listen in on these three conversations:
First conversation:
“Lord, I will follow You wherever You go.”Jesus said to him, “Foxes have holes and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay His head.”
Second conversation:
Jesus said to another, “Follow Me.”But he said, “Lord, let me first go and bury my father.”Jesus said to him, “Let the dead bury their own dead, but you go and preach the kingdom of God.”
Third conversation:
And another also said, “Lord, I will follow You, but let me first go and bid them farewell who are at my house.”Jesus said to him, “No one, having put his hand to the plow, and looking back, is fit for the kingdom of God.”
Note four things. 1.) Two of the men that want to follow Jesus have other things they want to do first. These are not bad things. In fact, they are actually very good things, honorable things that they wish to do out of a sense of duty and responsibility. But the good is the enemy of the great. And good things can especially get in the way of God-things! Sometimes even doing our duty can take us far from the will of God. Just think of the pilot of the Enola Gay just doing his duty and dropping the atomic bomb on the Japanese city of Hiroshima. And for the soldiers that crucified Jesus it was just another day in the imperial office!
2.) For two of the men that wanted to follow Jesus the focus was on "my house" and "my father." Don't miss this. The patriarchal family was the source of the greatest threat to the mission of Jesus and the kingdom of God. Family is good but it's not the ultimate good or the absolute good. Do we allow our lives to be shaped by family values in such a way that we miss the faith venture of following Jesus?
3.) What does a man that doesn't even have a "place" of his own have to offer those of us that are essentially defined by what we have? Is it possible for consumers like us to follow Jesus?
4.) These three conversations take place at the point in Luke's story where Jesus makes his crucial move toward Jerusalem. Jesus simply didn't have time to coddle disciples that weren't ready for the heat that was quickly coming. That may be tough but then Jesus was no cupcake!
If we're looking for soft and cushy we probably won't want to fill out the application to follow Jesus. We wouldn't make the cut anyway. And that would be a shame because we would miss out on the adventure that is known as the kingdom of God!
© Paul Fisher
In Luke 9.57-62 Jesus actually said some discouraging (I might even say cruel but I know that might really explode your conception of the master! so I won't!) things to a few men that wanted to follow him. At least they said they wanted to follow him and for most people in the leadership business that is good enough. I mean, it's not easy to even get people to want to follow. As one leadership guru used to put it, "If you are leading but no one is following, you're just taking a walk!" So Jesus is really doing something to just stimulate the desire of other people to follow him. And yet this passage in Luke has him making unreasonable demands of those that want to follow him. Listen in on these three conversations:
First conversation:
“Lord, I will follow You wherever You go.”Jesus said to him, “Foxes have holes and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay His head.”
Second conversation:
Jesus said to another, “Follow Me.”But he said, “Lord, let me first go and bury my father.”Jesus said to him, “Let the dead bury their own dead, but you go and preach the kingdom of God.”
Third conversation:
And another also said, “Lord, I will follow You, but let me first go and bid them farewell who are at my house.”Jesus said to him, “No one, having put his hand to the plow, and looking back, is fit for the kingdom of God.”
Note four things. 1.) Two of the men that want to follow Jesus have other things they want to do first. These are not bad things. In fact, they are actually very good things, honorable things that they wish to do out of a sense of duty and responsibility. But the good is the enemy of the great. And good things can especially get in the way of God-things! Sometimes even doing our duty can take us far from the will of God. Just think of the pilot of the Enola Gay just doing his duty and dropping the atomic bomb on the Japanese city of Hiroshima. And for the soldiers that crucified Jesus it was just another day in the imperial office!
2.) For two of the men that wanted to follow Jesus the focus was on "my house" and "my father." Don't miss this. The patriarchal family was the source of the greatest threat to the mission of Jesus and the kingdom of God. Family is good but it's not the ultimate good or the absolute good. Do we allow our lives to be shaped by family values in such a way that we miss the faith venture of following Jesus?
3.) What does a man that doesn't even have a "place" of his own have to offer those of us that are essentially defined by what we have? Is it possible for consumers like us to follow Jesus?
4.) These three conversations take place at the point in Luke's story where Jesus makes his crucial move toward Jerusalem. Jesus simply didn't have time to coddle disciples that weren't ready for the heat that was quickly coming. That may be tough but then Jesus was no cupcake!
If we're looking for soft and cushy we probably won't want to fill out the application to follow Jesus. We wouldn't make the cut anyway. And that would be a shame because we would miss out on the adventure that is known as the kingdom of God!
© Paul Fisher
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