Fame has a powerful effect on people, those who become famous and those who pay them inordinate amount of attention. It can undermine our priorities and cause us to do and say things that don’t reflect our best selves. Who among us, if given the chance to hang out with a celebrity we admired, wouldn’t clear our schedule and get ourselves to wherever the meeting was to take place? I would drop at lot to meet a celebrity whom I thought was cool – and I’d be pretty sure everyone knew about it! Being around famous people can make us feel more important.
People who are famous say it is very odd to receive such attention from total strangers simply because you have a talent or skill or position that gives you exposure. It can be very hard to be the object of projection from a public that doesn’t actually know you, but thinks they do. For the very famous, celebrity constricts their movements, home life, spontaneity, and even affects their families and friends.
So I wonder how Jesus handled it:
“At once his fame began to spread throughout the surrounding region of Galilee.”
Without a doubt, Jesus’ fame helped him spread the Good News more widely. It was a factor in attracting followers, who helped spread the Good News more widely still. Yet we also know from the gospels that more than once the crowds kept him from something he was going to do, and he spent long hours teaching and healing all who came to him.
And, of course, we also know that fame has an underbelly. The famous can suddenly be deemed – or become – infamous, notorious, the criticism directed toward them all the more fierce because it is adulation turned inside out. It was the fame generated by Jesus’ raising of Lazarus that sealed his fate with the temple authorities, and we all know how the crowds shouting “Hosanna” as he rode into Jerusalem became mobs crying, “Crucify him” within the space of a few days. We love our heroes – and we love to watch them fall.
Should Christians seek fame? Some star athletes and artists use their celebrity to proclaim their faith, sometimes with mixed results. And we know of pastors who’ve gotten very famous on the Gospel losing their way morally and legally. We might conclude that fame is something not to be sought, but if it comes to you unbidden, it should be managed with all the humility we can muster.
What we can do is pray for people in the public eye, that they would wear their fame lightly, not taking themselves too seriously. As a boss of mine once said, “Don’t believe too much in your own press releases.” And we can pay attention to how much we seek or covet attention and affirmation from a wide range of people. Maybe the regard of a small group is more meaningful – and a safer bet.
Jesus became famous out of all proportion to his humble beginnings – his humble human beginnings, that is. From the perspective of his divine origins, his long reign at the “top of the charts” is understandable. But he never acted like a famous person, never exercised any prerogatives or favors, never let fame draw him off-mission. He went to the cross like the lowest of criminals – and emerged from the grave the Lord of heaven and earth, whose fame will never diminish, until we all come together in that Land where no one is more valued than anyone else.
1-29-15 - Amazed
Amazement seemed to follow Jesus wherever he went. The healing of the possessed man in the synagogue, combined with his style of teaching, won him rave reviews: “They were all amazed, and they kept on asking one another, ‘What is this? A new teaching—with authority! He commands even the unclean spirits, and they obey him.’”
It’s been hard for me to avoid the subject of evangelism with this week’s passage. We see us how powerfully people reacted to Jesus when he first came on the scene. Looking back on those events through a 2,000-year telescope, we’re bound to lose some definition and immediacy. When did we last say, “Wow! What is this teaching? Who is this guy?”
A domesticated Christianity is like lukewarm dish water. It allows us to go through the motions, but doesn’t really get the dishes clean. How can we reinvigorate our faith, our excitement at what God did in Jesus Christ, and what God is doing now through the Holy Spirit working in us? To my mind, the remedy is less talking about Jesus and more talking to Jesus; less observing from the sidelines and more experience. We need to do everything we can to put ourselves in the way of experiencing God directly, and then do everything we can to help others experience God.
This Jesus may not be new news to many of us, but we live in a culture in which many people have only dimly heard of him – and their associations with the people who bear his name might well be quite negative. We have a huge opportunity to introduce this guy to people who don’t know much of anything about him.
And what should we tell them? How we experience Jesus. Why we call ourselves Christ followers. What were the moments when he became real for us. Those are incredible stories! If we tell them, they’re going to plant seeds in the people who hear them. If I heard a story about someone being rescued from despair, or empowered to work for justice, or healed, I’d want to know more about that person.
All we need to do is initiate a curiosity – and be there when questions are asked. And the only answers we’re required to give are our own stories of our own experience. We don’t need to say why God allows suffering – we can say, “I don’t know why – and here’s a time when I felt suffering was answered by God with love,” or “Here’s a time when God worked through me to alleviate someone else's suffering.”
Some time in the next few days, we might make an inventory of our “God-stories” and dust them off. I’m terrible at this – my sermons are too often declarations of belief instead of stories of transformation. So I intend to hold myself to this discipline too. Our experiences with God are our richest resource in God’s mission.
When were you last amazed by Jesus? Remember – and tell someone that story. You're just making an introduction - the next move is up to God.
It’s been hard for me to avoid the subject of evangelism with this week’s passage. We see us how powerfully people reacted to Jesus when he first came on the scene. Looking back on those events through a 2,000-year telescope, we’re bound to lose some definition and immediacy. When did we last say, “Wow! What is this teaching? Who is this guy?”
A domesticated Christianity is like lukewarm dish water. It allows us to go through the motions, but doesn’t really get the dishes clean. How can we reinvigorate our faith, our excitement at what God did in Jesus Christ, and what God is doing now through the Holy Spirit working in us? To my mind, the remedy is less talking about Jesus and more talking to Jesus; less observing from the sidelines and more experience. We need to do everything we can to put ourselves in the way of experiencing God directly, and then do everything we can to help others experience God.
This Jesus may not be new news to many of us, but we live in a culture in which many people have only dimly heard of him – and their associations with the people who bear his name might well be quite negative. We have a huge opportunity to introduce this guy to people who don’t know much of anything about him.
And what should we tell them? How we experience Jesus. Why we call ourselves Christ followers. What were the moments when he became real for us. Those are incredible stories! If we tell them, they’re going to plant seeds in the people who hear them. If I heard a story about someone being rescued from despair, or empowered to work for justice, or healed, I’d want to know more about that person.
All we need to do is initiate a curiosity – and be there when questions are asked. And the only answers we’re required to give are our own stories of our own experience. We don’t need to say why God allows suffering – we can say, “I don’t know why – and here’s a time when I felt suffering was answered by God with love,” or “Here’s a time when God worked through me to alleviate someone else's suffering.”
Some time in the next few days, we might make an inventory of our “God-stories” and dust them off. I’m terrible at this – my sermons are too often declarations of belief instead of stories of transformation. So I intend to hold myself to this discipline too. Our experiences with God are our richest resource in God’s mission.
When were you last amazed by Jesus? Remember – and tell someone that story. You're just making an introduction - the next move is up to God.
1-28-15 - Deliverance
We’ve experienced them, haven't we, people who show up in our churches and don’t know how to behave. Clearly on some medication, or in desperate need of it, they mumble and shamble and can’t sit still; maybe they talk or shout during the sermon or the prayers. We know we need to welcome them as we do the “well-put-together,” but they can be disruptive, manipulative, even nasty when challenged.
Not that different in the synagogue in Jesus’ day:
“Just then there was in their synagogue a man with an unclean spirit, and he cried out, ‘What have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth? Have you come to destroy us? I know who you are, the Holy One of God.’ But Jesus rebuked him, saying, ‘Be silent, and come out of him!’ And the unclean spirit, throwing him into convulsions and crying with a loud voice, came out of him.”
What did the people around Jesus think? “Oh my God, don’t talk to him! Don’t engage….” Or did they think Jesus was harsh with his rebuke, “Be silent!” But Jesus knew the man was not the problem. As well as the demons could recognize his presence, he could recognize theirs. He knew this was not a case of mental illness or substance abuse or social disorder – he knew this man was held captive by a spirit not his own, a spirit of evil which sought to hold him in disease and undermine every effort toward freedom.
This is only the first of many times in the gospels when we see Jesus communicate directly with evil spirits, commanding them to loose their hold on an afflicted person. I have heard of such things in our times too – there is a category of evil beyond the categorizable pathologies we’ve become so adept at naming and mapping. Jesus never confused the person oppressed by the demonic with the forces oppressing them. He spoke right to the demons, casting them out in the language of command. Jesus knew he had power greater than they did, and they feared him.
I happen to believe that this can and does occur – people can be very vulnerable to an influx of dark spirits, especially if they have been victims of sexual violence or abuse that so thoroughly undermines their sense of self. People who have been involved in or subject to occult activities can also be at risk. But even if you don’t believe that this reality exists, you can affirm the movement toward freedom which Jesus consistently fosters. He was – and is – in the business of setting people free, from all kinds of bondage. He wasn’t about to forget the spiritual as he attended to medical, emotional, political, economic, judicial,social brokenness.
Paul reminds us in Galatians, “It is for freedom that Christ has set us free.” We are invited to constantly seek our own freedom from anything that hinders our growth into the fullness of who God made us to be. And we are called to invest in the freedom of others, across every kind of category of person, condition and “-ism,” seeking to free the person beneath the oppression and offering our strength for their spiritual growth. Who do you know who needs to be set free? How is God calling you to help? And what freedoms are you seeking? Who might be your agent of deliverance?
Something wonderful can happen when we acknowledge the person hiding behind that “difficult” behavior. Often it is those “less presentable” people, when they are invited to speak, who articulate most clearly their experience of the love of God. It is for freedom that Christ has set us free. Indeed!
Not that different in the synagogue in Jesus’ day:
“Just then there was in their synagogue a man with an unclean spirit, and he cried out, ‘What have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth? Have you come to destroy us? I know who you are, the Holy One of God.’ But Jesus rebuked him, saying, ‘Be silent, and come out of him!’ And the unclean spirit, throwing him into convulsions and crying with a loud voice, came out of him.”
What did the people around Jesus think? “Oh my God, don’t talk to him! Don’t engage….” Or did they think Jesus was harsh with his rebuke, “Be silent!” But Jesus knew the man was not the problem. As well as the demons could recognize his presence, he could recognize theirs. He knew this was not a case of mental illness or substance abuse or social disorder – he knew this man was held captive by a spirit not his own, a spirit of evil which sought to hold him in disease and undermine every effort toward freedom.
This is only the first of many times in the gospels when we see Jesus communicate directly with evil spirits, commanding them to loose their hold on an afflicted person. I have heard of such things in our times too – there is a category of evil beyond the categorizable pathologies we’ve become so adept at naming and mapping. Jesus never confused the person oppressed by the demonic with the forces oppressing them. He spoke right to the demons, casting them out in the language of command. Jesus knew he had power greater than they did, and they feared him.
I happen to believe that this can and does occur – people can be very vulnerable to an influx of dark spirits, especially if they have been victims of sexual violence or abuse that so thoroughly undermines their sense of self. People who have been involved in or subject to occult activities can also be at risk. But even if you don’t believe that this reality exists, you can affirm the movement toward freedom which Jesus consistently fosters. He was – and is – in the business of setting people free, from all kinds of bondage. He wasn’t about to forget the spiritual as he attended to medical, emotional, political, economic, judicial,social brokenness.
Paul reminds us in Galatians, “It is for freedom that Christ has set us free.” We are invited to constantly seek our own freedom from anything that hinders our growth into the fullness of who God made us to be. And we are called to invest in the freedom of others, across every kind of category of person, condition and “-ism,” seeking to free the person beneath the oppression and offering our strength for their spiritual growth. Who do you know who needs to be set free? How is God calling you to help? And what freedoms are you seeking? Who might be your agent of deliverance?
Something wonderful can happen when we acknowledge the person hiding behind that “difficult” behavior. Often it is those “less presentable” people, when they are invited to speak, who articulate most clearly their experience of the love of God. It is for freedom that Christ has set us free. Indeed!
1-27-15 - "I Know Who You Are"
I’ve been watching a lot of Masterpiece Mystery of late, so when I think of someone saying, “I know who you are,” I automatically impute a menacing tone to those words. Though it’s a phrase that can convey a happy recognition – of a movie star, say, or an old friend – it suggests a hidden knowledge about someone’s past or true identity, something not everyone knows about them.
One of the ongoing themes in the synoptic gospels is that the only ones who seem to consistently understand Jesus’ true identity as Messiah are the demons. That makes some sense – as spiritual beings, they would recognize the spiritual authority of the Son of God. They are always afraid of him, as we see in this week’s gospel story:
“Just then there was in their synagogue a man with an unclean spirit, and he cried out, ‘What have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth? Have you come to destroy us? I know who you are, the Holy One of God.’”
These dark forces recognize that part of Jesus’ mission is to destroy them. After all, there is no point in announcing that God’s life has come among us with power to heal and transform the universe, if you’re not also going to deal with the other side of the equation, what our baptismal rite refers to as “the evil powers of this world which corrupt and destroy the creatures of God.” Jesus came that we might have life, and have it in abundance, and that means he also came to break the power of evil over humankind, whether that manifests as demonic oppression, economic and political injustice, disease and disability, or personal sin. One of our great claims as Christians is that Christ did break the power of evil and gave us the means to combat it, through the power of his name.
Do we know who Jesus is? The divine Son of the Living God, the savior and redeemer of the world, the One before whom the forces of evil cower? When we reduce Jesus to a nice guy, a good teacher, a moral model, an important world leader who only wants us to love one another, we leave out the power he possessed and demonstrated, power even his followers could wield in his name, power to heal and forgive and bring peace and justice that his followers can still wield in his name.
He has given us authority over the forces of evil, however we may encounter them. We make his power and presence known simply by invoking his name: Jesus, the Christ, the name which awakens faith, the name by which Peter and John healed a lame man (Acts 3).
This week, whenever you encounter darkness, whether in the depression of a friend or in the headlines of your newspaper, stop and invoke the name of Jesus, inviting his power to transform that situation. That can be a scary prayer, because it’s only one factor among many in any given situation – but if we believe it is the most significant factor, we dare to take that step of faith and make that prayer.
Whenever we do that, we are saying to Jesus, “I know who you are.”
One of the ongoing themes in the synoptic gospels is that the only ones who seem to consistently understand Jesus’ true identity as Messiah are the demons. That makes some sense – as spiritual beings, they would recognize the spiritual authority of the Son of God. They are always afraid of him, as we see in this week’s gospel story:
“Just then there was in their synagogue a man with an unclean spirit, and he cried out, ‘What have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth? Have you come to destroy us? I know who you are, the Holy One of God.’”
These dark forces recognize that part of Jesus’ mission is to destroy them. After all, there is no point in announcing that God’s life has come among us with power to heal and transform the universe, if you’re not also going to deal with the other side of the equation, what our baptismal rite refers to as “the evil powers of this world which corrupt and destroy the creatures of God.” Jesus came that we might have life, and have it in abundance, and that means he also came to break the power of evil over humankind, whether that manifests as demonic oppression, economic and political injustice, disease and disability, or personal sin. One of our great claims as Christians is that Christ did break the power of evil and gave us the means to combat it, through the power of his name.
Do we know who Jesus is? The divine Son of the Living God, the savior and redeemer of the world, the One before whom the forces of evil cower? When we reduce Jesus to a nice guy, a good teacher, a moral model, an important world leader who only wants us to love one another, we leave out the power he possessed and demonstrated, power even his followers could wield in his name, power to heal and forgive and bring peace and justice that his followers can still wield in his name.
He has given us authority over the forces of evil, however we may encounter them. We make his power and presence known simply by invoking his name: Jesus, the Christ, the name which awakens faith, the name by which Peter and John healed a lame man (Acts 3).
This week, whenever you encounter darkness, whether in the depression of a friend or in the headlines of your newspaper, stop and invoke the name of Jesus, inviting his power to transform that situation. That can be a scary prayer, because it’s only one factor among many in any given situation – but if we believe it is the most significant factor, we dare to take that step of faith and make that prayer.
Whenever we do that, we are saying to Jesus, “I know who you are.”
1-26-15 - New Teaching
Whenever I go to a talk or a conference, I long to hear something I haven’t heard before, something that resonates with my mind and spirit and causes me to see in a new way. How rare it is, to hear someone put familiar ideas together in a new way! So often we just spin endless variations on the same old themes; perhaps a new understanding emerges with each iteration, but we stay within the same paradigm.
Well, Jesus broke the paradigm.
I remember when the phrase “paradigm shift” first came into currency. My reaction was, “If someone can tell me what a paradigm is, I’m happy to learn how to shift it.” I still have to look the darn word up. If you happen to share my ignorance, a paradigm is the prevailing system, model, way of understanding something. A new paradigm offers an alternative way of seeing or doing the same old thing, a vision that reveals to us new possibilities, new connections, new vistas.
Jesus proclaimed a new paradigm – and people could tell. “They were all amazed, and they kept on asking one another, ‘What is this? A new teaching—with authority!”
The way thinking and talking about God were done in Jesus’ community was by question and argument, not declaration. Rabbis didn’t teach, “This is how it is.” Rather, they asked questions about a text in Scripture, suggested interpretations, argued against other interpretations, suggested new variations on the interpretations, and looked for truth in the searching. No one interpretation was necessarily more “authoritative” than another, though some views drew more adherents than others.
Jesus did not open the text and say, “What if….?” He opened the scroll in the synagogue and said, “Today this has been fulfilled in your hearing.” He made declarative statements: “The time is fulfilled. The kingdom of God has come near. Believe in the good news!” In modern language it might sound like, “Listen! God is on the move. God is doing a new thing. The realm of God has come near you, among you, even within you. Come and be a part of what God is up to!”
We have a challenge. For us this “new teaching” is over 2,000 years old, and has accrued the dust of hundreds of thousands of books in a thousand libraries and churches and stained glass windows. It seems irrelevant in a populace that increasingly draws its authority from its own experience or its favorite media outlet. For many of us, the Good News has become old, stale, two-dimensional – unless we hear it again with authority.
I believe we need to hear it again from Jesus, the Jesus we meet in the Gospels, the Jesus we encounter in our prayers and our ministries. We don’t need to read it in a book. We need to read it on the face of someone who wonders if anyone will ever love him, or feel it in the smoothness of a chalice as we share the wine at communion, or hear it from each other as we tell our stories of spiritual encounter.
And we need to hear ourselves tell it! There are a lot of people around us who aren’t burdened by the age of this “Good News” – because they have never heard it, and may not if we don’t tell it in our own ways.
Jesus’ teaching is still new. I pray we will continue to renew our ways of hearing, and telling, that “old, old story.”
Well, Jesus broke the paradigm.
I remember when the phrase “paradigm shift” first came into currency. My reaction was, “If someone can tell me what a paradigm is, I’m happy to learn how to shift it.” I still have to look the darn word up. If you happen to share my ignorance, a paradigm is the prevailing system, model, way of understanding something. A new paradigm offers an alternative way of seeing or doing the same old thing, a vision that reveals to us new possibilities, new connections, new vistas.
Jesus proclaimed a new paradigm – and people could tell. “They were all amazed, and they kept on asking one another, ‘What is this? A new teaching—with authority!”
The way thinking and talking about God were done in Jesus’ community was by question and argument, not declaration. Rabbis didn’t teach, “This is how it is.” Rather, they asked questions about a text in Scripture, suggested interpretations, argued against other interpretations, suggested new variations on the interpretations, and looked for truth in the searching. No one interpretation was necessarily more “authoritative” than another, though some views drew more adherents than others.
Jesus did not open the text and say, “What if….?” He opened the scroll in the synagogue and said, “Today this has been fulfilled in your hearing.” He made declarative statements: “The time is fulfilled. The kingdom of God has come near. Believe in the good news!” In modern language it might sound like, “Listen! God is on the move. God is doing a new thing. The realm of God has come near you, among you, even within you. Come and be a part of what God is up to!”
We have a challenge. For us this “new teaching” is over 2,000 years old, and has accrued the dust of hundreds of thousands of books in a thousand libraries and churches and stained glass windows. It seems irrelevant in a populace that increasingly draws its authority from its own experience or its favorite media outlet. For many of us, the Good News has become old, stale, two-dimensional – unless we hear it again with authority.
I believe we need to hear it again from Jesus, the Jesus we meet in the Gospels, the Jesus we encounter in our prayers and our ministries. We don’t need to read it in a book. We need to read it on the face of someone who wonders if anyone will ever love him, or feel it in the smoothness of a chalice as we share the wine at communion, or hear it from each other as we tell our stories of spiritual encounter.
And we need to hear ourselves tell it! There are a lot of people around us who aren’t burdened by the age of this “Good News” – because they have never heard it, and may not if we don’t tell it in our own ways.
Jesus’ teaching is still new. I pray we will continue to renew our ways of hearing, and telling, that “old, old story.”
1-23-15 - Fishing
I’m not much of a fisherman – I think I’ve tried it once or twice in my life. Didn’t have the skill, the patience or the stillness to do it well – that, and I feel too sorry for the fish. But I do believe it’s a skill Jesus would like me to learn, at least so far as the “fishing for people” part goes.
All week I’ve been assuming that in this story we’re the brothers being recruited along that seashore. But a great gift of gospel stories is that we can put ourselves into any of the characters in them and find deeper meaning. So maybe we need to try on the Jesus role as well. Because sooner or later the recruited become the recruiters, if a movement is to grow. The time came when Peter and Andrew, James and John found themselves inviting other people to come and follow Jesus.
So what can we learn from Jesus’ technique as we seek to invite people into the life of faith? Well – first of all, he showed up in their environments, at their place of work no less. He didn’t send a message from afar – he drew near, close enough to smell the fish, touch the nets, see real lives. He knew what he was asking them to walk away from, and that was a way of honoring their lives. So we need to know people before we invite them to consider Jesus as Lord.
Secondly, he gave them a clear invitation: “Follow me.” So often we are muddy in our invitations. “Join us at church sometime” is not a specific, “I’d love for you to join me at church this Sunday – we have a visiting choir/preacher/are doing a great series on…..” Or invite someone to join you at an outreach ministry you’re involved in. And might we consider going beyond invitations to church “stuff” and get closer to the heart of the matter: “Would you like to get together and talk about spiritual things sometime? It’s such a big part of my life, and I have no idea about your spirituality.” Who knows where that conversation might lead?
Third, Jesus made them a promise with his invitation: “I will show you how to fish for people.” That honored who they were and what they did, and offered continuity between their old lives and the unknown he was asking them to walk into with him. People are often excited about learning new things, and feel affirmed that you think they are worthy of being taught. That’s how leaders are made.
And what did Jesus not do? He did not wheedle, cajole, arm- twist, or try to manipulate them. He asked. They answered. They moved on. Presumably he would have moved on if they’d said no too.
Jesus wasn’t always thrilled with the way these recruits followed orders or comprehended his teachings. But having chosen them, he was committed to them, and never gave up on them. It took a long time before they really demonstrated the leadership that Jesus entrusted him with. Look at Peter – he had to succeed and fail, step out in faith and sink in doubt, get who Jesus truly was and then miss the next cue, even deny his Lord three times and then repent – but in the end, he became that fisher of men still honored by the church for over 2000 years.
With a record like that, we shouldn’t feel too inadequate, right? Jesus is still inviting you and me, “Come, follow me. We have a world to heal.” You coming?
All week I’ve been assuming that in this story we’re the brothers being recruited along that seashore. But a great gift of gospel stories is that we can put ourselves into any of the characters in them and find deeper meaning. So maybe we need to try on the Jesus role as well. Because sooner or later the recruited become the recruiters, if a movement is to grow. The time came when Peter and Andrew, James and John found themselves inviting other people to come and follow Jesus.
So what can we learn from Jesus’ technique as we seek to invite people into the life of faith? Well – first of all, he showed up in their environments, at their place of work no less. He didn’t send a message from afar – he drew near, close enough to smell the fish, touch the nets, see real lives. He knew what he was asking them to walk away from, and that was a way of honoring their lives. So we need to know people before we invite them to consider Jesus as Lord.
Secondly, he gave them a clear invitation: “Follow me.” So often we are muddy in our invitations. “Join us at church sometime” is not a specific, “I’d love for you to join me at church this Sunday – we have a visiting choir/preacher/are doing a great series on…..” Or invite someone to join you at an outreach ministry you’re involved in. And might we consider going beyond invitations to church “stuff” and get closer to the heart of the matter: “Would you like to get together and talk about spiritual things sometime? It’s such a big part of my life, and I have no idea about your spirituality.” Who knows where that conversation might lead?
Third, Jesus made them a promise with his invitation: “I will show you how to fish for people.” That honored who they were and what they did, and offered continuity between their old lives and the unknown he was asking them to walk into with him. People are often excited about learning new things, and feel affirmed that you think they are worthy of being taught. That’s how leaders are made.
And what did Jesus not do? He did not wheedle, cajole, arm- twist, or try to manipulate them. He asked. They answered. They moved on. Presumably he would have moved on if they’d said no too.
Jesus wasn’t always thrilled with the way these recruits followed orders or comprehended his teachings. But having chosen them, he was committed to them, and never gave up on them. It took a long time before they really demonstrated the leadership that Jesus entrusted him with. Look at Peter – he had to succeed and fail, step out in faith and sink in doubt, get who Jesus truly was and then miss the next cue, even deny his Lord three times and then repent – but in the end, he became that fisher of men still honored by the church for over 2000 years.
With a record like that, we shouldn’t feel too inadequate, right? Jesus is still inviting you and me, “Come, follow me. We have a world to heal.” You coming?
1-22-15 - Unwilling Recruits
Unless I’m forgetting something, the gospel accounts of Jesus’ ministry only tell us about one person turning down Jesus’ invitation to follow him: the rich ruler who asked what he had to do to win eternal life. When Jesus said, “Sell all your possessions and give the money to the poor and then come, follow me,” we’re told he turned away saddened “for he had many possessions.” John’s gospel tells of quite a few followers quitting the movement when Jesus starts talking about strangely about being “the bread of life,” but most of the stories in which he calls people to follow him as disciples end with a “yes.”
It’s enough to discourage the likes of us, who often have trouble getting people to participate regularly in church, let alone take Jesus seriously. (Of course, if we emphasized the latter, we’d likely get more of the former, but that’s another story for another day…) Jesus makes it look so easy.
It’s a good thing the Hebrew Bible includes the story of Jonah, a tidbit of which is in Sunday's lectionary. Jonah is a hilariously tall tale about a man who would do just about anything to avoid the one thing God asked him to do: Go and carry a message of repentance to the famously wicked and licentious populace of Nineveh.
Jonah is so unwilling and so disobedient, he hightails it in the other direction, catches a ship to throw God off the scent, gets thrown overboard and fetches up in the belly of a big fish, only to be thrown up on the beach three days later. And who’s there to greet him? God – with the same request. This time Jonah does it, sort of, doing his best to sabotage his own mission. He succeeds despite his best efforts to fail, and ends in a bitter heap of abject rage, railing against God’s mercy. It’s a brilliant send-up of self-righteousness and a sweetly subversive hymn to forgiveness and grace.
And one message we might take from this story is that God can find a way to work through even the most unwilling heart. If we know anyone who’s taken their sweet time getting around to RSVPing Jesus' invitation to closer relationship (maybe us?); if we find ourselves putting off that nudging sense that God would like us to reach out in love to certain people, or engage in certain work for justice – we might take comfort (of a sort!) from this story. God can outwait us.
But oh, how much nicer and more fulfilling it is when stop delaying and resisting, and turn and say, “Okay. I’m listening. What is it you want from me?”
More often than not, the response we receive will be something God wants for us, not from us.
All God really wants from us is our whole hearts.
That’s all!
It’s enough to discourage the likes of us, who often have trouble getting people to participate regularly in church, let alone take Jesus seriously. (Of course, if we emphasized the latter, we’d likely get more of the former, but that’s another story for another day…) Jesus makes it look so easy.
It’s a good thing the Hebrew Bible includes the story of Jonah, a tidbit of which is in Sunday's lectionary. Jonah is a hilariously tall tale about a man who would do just about anything to avoid the one thing God asked him to do: Go and carry a message of repentance to the famously wicked and licentious populace of Nineveh.
Jonah is so unwilling and so disobedient, he hightails it in the other direction, catches a ship to throw God off the scent, gets thrown overboard and fetches up in the belly of a big fish, only to be thrown up on the beach three days later. And who’s there to greet him? God – with the same request. This time Jonah does it, sort of, doing his best to sabotage his own mission. He succeeds despite his best efforts to fail, and ends in a bitter heap of abject rage, railing against God’s mercy. It’s a brilliant send-up of self-righteousness and a sweetly subversive hymn to forgiveness and grace.
And one message we might take from this story is that God can find a way to work through even the most unwilling heart. If we know anyone who’s taken their sweet time getting around to RSVPing Jesus' invitation to closer relationship (maybe us?); if we find ourselves putting off that nudging sense that God would like us to reach out in love to certain people, or engage in certain work for justice – we might take comfort (of a sort!) from this story. God can outwait us.
But oh, how much nicer and more fulfilling it is when stop delaying and resisting, and turn and say, “Okay. I’m listening. What is it you want from me?”
More often than not, the response we receive will be something God wants for us, not from us.
All God really wants from us is our whole hearts.
That’s all!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)