In keeping with my summer study looking at the questions Jesus asked, I'm skipping from Matthew to John--one synoptic and then on to the gospel writer who captures some different sides of the mystery of Jesus.
The second question that Jesus asks (at least in the NRSV) is directed to Nathanael at the end of John chapter 1. Nathanael is invited to "come and see" the Messiah from Nazareth by Phillip, who was just recently called by Jesus to follow him.
Nathanael, like many of you, is a bit skeptical and cynical. "Can anything good come from Nazareth?" It's kind of like how Virginia think about West Virginia and North Carolina think about South Carolina and how South Carolina thinks about...well, I'm not exactly sure who South Carolina compares favorably towards.
Nazareth was a summarily under-whelming place. And Nathanael doubts that someone as great as the Messiah could come from there.
But he comes, upon the insistence of Phillip. Jesus calls him by name immediately and declares that he "saw" Nathanael under the fig tree. Nathanael is shocked and utters a strong declaration of Jesus' Messiah-ship right on the spot.
Jesus asks (in summary): "Do you believe because I said I saw you? You will see greater things than these!"
I pondered this question and the pronouncement afterward. And it pressed me to ask this question: where have I been too easily satisfied with what I know of Jesus? How have I allowed only just a few pieces of understanding or insight or comprehension to satisfy what needs to be an insatiable hunger?
If Jesus is the (as he's called in the Scriptures) the source of all wisdom, truth, knowledge, beauty, power, and love to an infinite degree, have I even begun to scratch the surface of who he is and what he has to offer?
Do I settle for believing in a very, very small Jesus who I've seen do a handful of spectacular things over the course of parts of my life? Or am I willing to take Jesus up on this invitation: I will see greater things than these if I will set my heart and mind and imagination on a journey. If I will be fixed on him and be willing to follow him into the infinite expanse of his joy.
So I'm praying for my little shell around Jesus to be cracked. I'm praying for my imagination and heart to be stirred and my mind to be awakened. I'm taking a deep breath and strapping on my hiking boots. There's vast, undiscovered Jesus country out there waiting to drench me in wonder and admiration and sober-minded awe.
If only I wouldn't be quite so easily satisfied.
Showing posts with label Jesus. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jesus. Show all posts
Wednesday, August 04, 2010
Tuesday, August 03, 2010
What To Do with Jesus and Judgment Part 2: The Cliffs of Dover & Driver's Ed Videos
So yesterday we talked about Jesus' judgment parables having nothing to do with being left behind at the end of all times. They have much more to do with the immediate context of the people of Jerusalem. They will kill him and they will be judged for it. And of course they are, in 70 A.D. with the destruction of the temple.
So this has nothing to do with us...and everything to do with us. If the Jews of Jesus' day will be judged for rejecting their coming Messiah, so will we.
And so we still have to wrestle with the question of Jesus and judgment. How are we to read these parables of judgment and trust that God is good, gracious and loving?
I've never been there, but I've been told that the Cliffs of Dover have warning signs: if you get too close, the wind is strong enough that you can and will get blown over the edge. The signs warn you that you will plummet to your death if you're not careful.
The signs have no malicious intent. They are stating facts. They are posted out of concern for the health and well-being of all who approach. They are warnings.
And so it is with Jesus. Warnings are warnings. They are given to us to keep us away from getting blown over the edge. Certain behaviors carry with them natural consequences.
The universe is designed a certain way: fall off the edge of the Cliffs of Dover, you splat down below. Push away the God of the universe, it results in certain un-pleasant eternity alternatives.
And so Jesus warns, pleads, weeps and even warns us: "let all who will, let them come home!" This is the point of the warnings in the gospels. They are stern and harsh sometimes, like a driver's ed video, to alert you to the sober reality of what's at stake.
We must remember that Jesus' "no" is always there to serve his "yes." The parables that speak of judgment are there as an emphatic "no" to our self-absorbed or foolish or ignorant or arrogant movement away from God in order to bring us into the "yes" of a life deeply connected with his grace and love and mercy.
A life that will run in that same direction for all eternity.
So this has nothing to do with us...and everything to do with us. If the Jews of Jesus' day will be judged for rejecting their coming Messiah, so will we.
And so we still have to wrestle with the question of Jesus and judgment. How are we to read these parables of judgment and trust that God is good, gracious and loving?
I've never been there, but I've been told that the Cliffs of Dover have warning signs: if you get too close, the wind is strong enough that you can and will get blown over the edge. The signs warn you that you will plummet to your death if you're not careful.
The signs have no malicious intent. They are stating facts. They are posted out of concern for the health and well-being of all who approach. They are warnings.
And so it is with Jesus. Warnings are warnings. They are given to us to keep us away from getting blown over the edge. Certain behaviors carry with them natural consequences.
The universe is designed a certain way: fall off the edge of the Cliffs of Dover, you splat down below. Push away the God of the universe, it results in certain un-pleasant eternity alternatives.
And so Jesus warns, pleads, weeps and even warns us: "let all who will, let them come home!" This is the point of the warnings in the gospels. They are stern and harsh sometimes, like a driver's ed video, to alert you to the sober reality of what's at stake.
We must remember that Jesus' "no" is always there to serve his "yes." The parables that speak of judgment are there as an emphatic "no" to our self-absorbed or foolish or ignorant or arrogant movement away from God in order to bring us into the "yes" of a life deeply connected with his grace and love and mercy.
A life that will run in that same direction for all eternity.
Monday, August 02, 2010
What to Do with Jesus & Judgment, Part 1: It Ain't About Being Left Behind
Last week I was wrapping up my journey through Jesus' questions in the book of Matthew. As Jesus gets nearer and nearer to his death, his stories and parables get more and more jarring. Lots of people cast out, judged, and lots of weeping and gnashing of teeth.
These are the passages that make me look quizzically at those who proclaim to love "nice Jesus" but who despise "mean Paul." Such people haven't actually read much of what Jesus said and did, I don't think.
Ever notice Jesus never once uses the word "grace?" Everything we know about grace comes from those who wrote after the "Jesus event" and who were his primary interpreters--Paul, most of all.
But I digress. The point is if we take Jesus seriously, we will run into some hard passages. Today I want to help us navigate the judgment passages. What are we to do with all this separation of sheep and goats and people cast out?
The first rule of any Bible interpretation is this: context, context and more context. Many of Jesus' judgment parables are in Israel and are specifically about Israel. Jesus has come as the last and final prophet of whom all the prophets spoke. They treated them poorly. They will treat Jesus poorly, too--in just a few days they will call for his execution.
Many of the judgment parables Jesus tells (wicked tenants, wedding banquet, ten bridesmaids all in chapters 21-24) are all happening in Jerusalem, after the triumphal entry, and are surrounded with weeping for Jerusalem and prophecy about the destruction of the temple. Which leads us to...
The destruction of the temple. This is was a cataclysmic event in the post-Jesus early church (and obviously as well for the Jews of the time), around 70 A.D. There's a war between Rome and the Jews, the Romans come through and flatten the temple.
This is what Jesus is what Jesus is talking about in all of this prophecy. Any early Christian reading the gospels in the first and second and even third generation of Christianity would have read and understood that the judgment being doled out is specifically talking about the destruction of the temple that actually happens within a generation of Jesus death. Jesus is not talking about being "Left Behind" at the end of all times.
Jesus pronounces judgment on Jerusalem, whose people are about to judge and destroy him. That judgment comes true shortly after his death with the destruction of the temple. Jesus asserts that the temple in Jerusalem will be destroyed and that he has come to replace it.
They'll destroy the temple, but they will not be able to destroy his body. Destroy the building, it will be many years before it is raised again. Destroy his body and in three days it will be raised up again.
Jesus is now the place where God meets people and where people meet God. It is the place of sacrifice, prayer, worship. In his body all these functions of the temple are completed. The temple was only a foreshadowing of what was to come--the true Temple was now here.
And the people were about to destroy him. And there is a consequence to their rebellion--they will be judged. And so they are.
And yes, that is a warning to all of us, 2,000 years later. But that's better left for tomorrow's post.
These are the passages that make me look quizzically at those who proclaim to love "nice Jesus" but who despise "mean Paul." Such people haven't actually read much of what Jesus said and did, I don't think.
Ever notice Jesus never once uses the word "grace?" Everything we know about grace comes from those who wrote after the "Jesus event" and who were his primary interpreters--Paul, most of all.
But I digress. The point is if we take Jesus seriously, we will run into some hard passages. Today I want to help us navigate the judgment passages. What are we to do with all this separation of sheep and goats and people cast out?
The first rule of any Bible interpretation is this: context, context and more context. Many of Jesus' judgment parables are in Israel and are specifically about Israel. Jesus has come as the last and final prophet of whom all the prophets spoke. They treated them poorly. They will treat Jesus poorly, too--in just a few days they will call for his execution.
Many of the judgment parables Jesus tells (wicked tenants, wedding banquet, ten bridesmaids all in chapters 21-24) are all happening in Jerusalem, after the triumphal entry, and are surrounded with weeping for Jerusalem and prophecy about the destruction of the temple. Which leads us to...
The destruction of the temple. This is was a cataclysmic event in the post-Jesus early church (and obviously as well for the Jews of the time), around 70 A.D. There's a war between Rome and the Jews, the Romans come through and flatten the temple.
This is what Jesus is what Jesus is talking about in all of this prophecy. Any early Christian reading the gospels in the first and second and even third generation of Christianity would have read and understood that the judgment being doled out is specifically talking about the destruction of the temple that actually happens within a generation of Jesus death. Jesus is not talking about being "Left Behind" at the end of all times.
Jesus pronounces judgment on Jerusalem, whose people are about to judge and destroy him. That judgment comes true shortly after his death with the destruction of the temple. Jesus asserts that the temple in Jerusalem will be destroyed and that he has come to replace it.
They'll destroy the temple, but they will not be able to destroy his body. Destroy the building, it will be many years before it is raised again. Destroy his body and in three days it will be raised up again.
Jesus is now the place where God meets people and where people meet God. It is the place of sacrifice, prayer, worship. In his body all these functions of the temple are completed. The temple was only a foreshadowing of what was to come--the true Temple was now here.
And the people were about to destroy him. And there is a consequence to their rebellion--they will be judged. And so they are.
And yes, that is a warning to all of us, 2,000 years later. But that's better left for tomorrow's post.
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Dangers of Unitarians with Play-Doh, Stepfordizing God, and the Importance of "No"
I recall one woman who shared about growing up in a Unitarian Church. In Sunday School one week the teacher handed all the kindergartners in the class some Play-Doh and said, "Make God."
"That was the moment," she said, "that I knew something was wrong with all of this--even at the age of 4, I knew that making God out of Play-Doh just wasn't right."
With last week's thoughts still buzzing in my head about the necessity of a Jesus that ticks us off, I was listening something by Tim Keller. He suggested an even further function of bumping up against God's "no:" intimacy.
There was a book in the early 70's called "The Stepford Wives." The men in the community were slaughtering their wives and turning them into robots: yes, dear, was their basic disposition.
These men didn't want wives. They didn't want intimacy. They just wanted someone to boss around. Something to be used rather than engaged with.
Keller suggested that all of us would love to have a God who wants to share life with us intimately. But we also have this desire to "Stepford God" our God. Part of us wants us God made of Play-Do because we don't like a God that says to us: "no."
And we don't like a Bible that says to us "no." We'd prefer to do what Thomas Jefferson did: break out the white-out (or whatever he had back then) and choose for ourselves which part of Scripture is "real Scripture" and which parts we'd rather not deal with.
But apart from a "no," there is no way to get to intimacy. To have intimacy at any level, even our own self, is to engage in a relationship where "no" and "yes" are regularly exchanged. If there is no room for "no" then there is no room in our hearts for a real relationship with a real God.
We are, in the end, conflicted creatures--about all our relationships, God included. Our deepest longing is to be known and loved and yet it takes much more courage than any of us has to enter into relationships of true knowing and loving.
But God refuses to let us lobotomize him. He loves us too much to allow us to do so. He is not a God made by us out of Play-Doh. He will not simply agree with our every whim--whims which we imagine are self-generated but are more often products of our gene pool and personal history mixed with our most recent exposure to friends, enemies, and commercials .
And so he gives us Scriptures which we will push-back on. And he tells us "no" regularly. And we wrestle and engage and fight back. This is our prescription for health. There is no other way to true intimacy.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Why It's Good News that Jesus Ticks Us Off
In the previous post, I suggested that if Jesus isn't ticking is off, we're picking and choosing the parts we like about Jesus in order to justify ourselves.
When we do this, we're making ourselves Jesus--making him into our own image. This would seem to suit us very well, except it doesn't.
If we're making ourselves the measure of Jesus, then our redemption, our healing, our transformation, our completion can only be made reality in ourselves, by our own strength. Because we've made ourselves the healer, it's up to us to "fix" all our troubles and brokenness.
In this case, our abilities (or lack thereof) become the limiting factors in our lives. And there's a whole lot of pressure to make something happen.
But what if there's a story that's much bigger than our own stories? What if our lives apart from that story are like notes wrenched from a symphony--still making noise but without the purpose originally intended?
And what if that story, that symphony, took on flesh and entered into the cacophony of random, listless, wandering notes and offered purpose? What if there's more to life than our small islands, our small stories?
What if there's power outside of us that invites us to live a life gifted into significance rather than scrapping and clawing our way into trying to prove our significance to ourselves and everyone around us before we die?
What if Jesus ticking us off is not just off-putting? What if Jesus ticking us off is, at the heart, an invitation? What if it's about an invitation into a bigger, broader, bolder, more humble, more free, more joyful life experience? Finally! There's something that's not me yet comes to me and offers to lead me into a more expansive place! The fact that Jesus is both God's "Yes" and "No" to me leads me finally and fully into that perfect "YES!" which is always God's last word to me.
What if the fact that there's parts about God that we don't like is an invitation to take first, small, faltering steps into an experience of a story that is one of infinite beauty?
When we make Jesus into our own image we are stuck imprisoned in our own stories. There is no genuine redemption because the redeemer is basically ourselves. And the problem with that is that our individual stories are too small a thing to spend our whole lives on.
When we do this, we're making ourselves Jesus--making him into our own image. This would seem to suit us very well, except it doesn't.
If we're making ourselves the measure of Jesus, then our redemption, our healing, our transformation, our completion can only be made reality in ourselves, by our own strength. Because we've made ourselves the healer, it's up to us to "fix" all our troubles and brokenness.
In this case, our abilities (or lack thereof) become the limiting factors in our lives. And there's a whole lot of pressure to make something happen.
But what if there's a story that's much bigger than our own stories? What if our lives apart from that story are like notes wrenched from a symphony--still making noise but without the purpose originally intended?
And what if that story, that symphony, took on flesh and entered into the cacophony of random, listless, wandering notes and offered purpose? What if there's more to life than our small islands, our small stories?
What if there's power outside of us that invites us to live a life gifted into significance rather than scrapping and clawing our way into trying to prove our significance to ourselves and everyone around us before we die?
What if Jesus ticking us off is not just off-putting? What if Jesus ticking us off is, at the heart, an invitation? What if it's about an invitation into a bigger, broader, bolder, more humble, more free, more joyful life experience? Finally! There's something that's not me yet comes to me and offers to lead me into a more expansive place! The fact that Jesus is both God's "Yes" and "No" to me leads me finally and fully into that perfect "YES!" which is always God's last word to me.
What if the fact that there's parts about God that we don't like is an invitation to take first, small, faltering steps into an experience of a story that is one of infinite beauty?
When we make Jesus into our own image we are stuck imprisoned in our own stories. There is no genuine redemption because the redeemer is basically ourselves. And the problem with that is that our individual stories are too small a thing to spend our whole lives on.
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Why Jesus Should Tick You Off
The first temptation recorded includes the delusion that haunts all of humanity in any historical record, religious or otherwise: "you will be like God." Much of the record of human misery can be traced to people believing this lie.
One particularly subtle way this temptation works itself out is with Christians and Jesus. Jesus is such a full, colorful, and vibrant personality that any personality type can find something about him to support their natural bent.
For example, if you're prone towards self-righteousness there's Jesus cleansing the temple. See that, God hates evil--just like me! We should, too! Let's go clear out everyone from our church that's sinning like Jesus did!
And if you're a nice, kind, gentle pleasant-type, there's Jesus calling us to turn the other cheek! See that, Jesus is a nice person who accepts everyone and would never condemn or put limits on anyone--just like me! Let's just love everyone like Jesus did!
One thing that's kicking my butt as I'm spending the summer looking through Jesus' questions in the gospels is the variety and range of tone and type of questions. Sometimes his questions are gentle and kind and inviting. Sometimes his questions seem aggressive and rude and angry.
I'm inclined to make Jesus into my own image just like the rest of us. There's parts about Jesus that I intuitively like. That's as it should be. But there's parts about Jesus that I honestly struggle with or just don't like at first. And that, too, is as it should be.
If Jesus is anything like God, he is not us. And we need to be corrected by what needs correcting in us.
If we're paying attention to Jesus, he should tick us off. If he hasn't ticked you off at all recently, you might want to make sure that you haven't slouched into a selective Jesus made in your own image.
One particularly subtle way this temptation works itself out is with Christians and Jesus. Jesus is such a full, colorful, and vibrant personality that any personality type can find something about him to support their natural bent.
For example, if you're prone towards self-righteousness there's Jesus cleansing the temple. See that, God hates evil--just like me! We should, too! Let's go clear out everyone from our church that's sinning like Jesus did!
And if you're a nice, kind, gentle pleasant-type, there's Jesus calling us to turn the other cheek! See that, Jesus is a nice person who accepts everyone and would never condemn or put limits on anyone--just like me! Let's just love everyone like Jesus did!
One thing that's kicking my butt as I'm spending the summer looking through Jesus' questions in the gospels is the variety and range of tone and type of questions. Sometimes his questions are gentle and kind and inviting. Sometimes his questions seem aggressive and rude and angry.
I'm inclined to make Jesus into my own image just like the rest of us. There's parts about Jesus that I intuitively like. That's as it should be. But there's parts about Jesus that I honestly struggle with or just don't like at first. And that, too, is as it should be.
If Jesus is anything like God, he is not us. And we need to be corrected by what needs correcting in us.
If we're paying attention to Jesus, he should tick us off. If he hasn't ticked you off at all recently, you might want to make sure that you haven't slouched into a selective Jesus made in your own image.
Friday, January 11, 2008
Bookending
Last night at our first campus large group meeting Mark Acuff, pastor of the Chapel Hill Bible Church, called us to mission in and as a community. He spoke from the theme verse for the semester from John 13: " 34 "A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. 35 By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another."
Mark talked about how striking it was that here in Jesus' last hours, with the clock ticking and much to say, Jesus is passionate about both the men in the room with him AND the people who are not there.
There is much to be said about the fruit born out of loving one another. When we love one another we grow in character. When we love one another we discover more of God's character. When we love one another it helps our communities to grow spiritually.
But Jesus takes this command to love one another and he points it outward: love one another so that everyone will know that you are my disciples. Here at the end, Jesus has an eye towards who's not yet in the room. He is passionate about those who are outside coming inside.
Mark emphasized that this should not have surprised the disciples. Their adventure with Jesus began for some of them with a very similar theme: "Follow me and I will make you fish for people!" Jesus begins the calling of his disciples with a missional theme and he finishes it with a variation on the exact same thing.
The firm bookends of mission propels the disciples to go and change the world after Jesus is gone. And so it should for us.
Mark talked about how striking it was that here in Jesus' last hours, with the clock ticking and much to say, Jesus is passionate about both the men in the room with him AND the people who are not there.
There is much to be said about the fruit born out of loving one another. When we love one another we grow in character. When we love one another we discover more of God's character. When we love one another it helps our communities to grow spiritually.
But Jesus takes this command to love one another and he points it outward: love one another so that everyone will know that you are my disciples. Here at the end, Jesus has an eye towards who's not yet in the room. He is passionate about those who are outside coming inside.
Mark emphasized that this should not have surprised the disciples. Their adventure with Jesus began for some of them with a very similar theme: "Follow me and I will make you fish for people!" Jesus begins the calling of his disciples with a missional theme and he finishes it with a variation on the exact same thing.
The firm bookends of mission propels the disciples to go and change the world after Jesus is gone. And so it should for us.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)