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Matthew 4.18–25
Jesus calls the fishermen Simon and Andrew to follow him and become “fishers of men.” They immediately leave their nets to follow him. Next, Jesus calls the fishermen James and John to follow him. They immediately leave their boat—and their father—to follow him. Jesus preaches the good news and heals the sick. Large crowds follow him.
When reading about Jesus calling the first disciples, I’ve always looked at things from the disciples’ point of view. Here I am—a lowly fisherman. Out of nowhere, Jesus appears. He calls me to make a huge, life-changing decision. What Would I Do?
Honestly, I have no idea.
The disciples did. They immediately left everything—their nets, their boats, their father(!) to follow Jesus. And for this, they’ve historically gotten some well-deserved props: a cool song or two, some books I keep trying to read, and general admiration from those of us a little apprehensive about what exactly Jesus is calling us from—and to.
But I wasn’t really thinking about that. I mean I did obviously think about it for the past 5 minutes, but when I was reading this passage this time—along with the next about Jesus healing the sick—it occurred to me that when we’re reading about Jesus’ actions, we should spend more time thinking like Jesus than anyone else. I mean, he’s the guy we’re trying to follow.
So I’ll restart and say that I think both of these passages are about how Jesus sees people. In our world, we have different ways of identifying ourselves. We do it through our professions—we’re fishermen, or teachers, or economists (whatever they do all day ...) We’re our relationships—we’re sons, fathers, mothers, daughters. We’re our beliefs—we’re Christians, believers, people at the temple waiting for the Word of God. We’re our weaknesses—we’re sick, wounded, and fragile in body and soul.
Jesus encounters all of these people in these two passages, and each time he sees beyond who they appear to be. He looks at some grimy, calloused fishermen and sees how they can turn the world upside down for God. He looks at people with physical, mental, and spiritual wounds and sees how they can become whole and complete in God. In other words, Jesus knows all the little pieces that make up who we are. But, more importantly, he sees everything that we can become.
And the best part? Jesus doesn’t just see our potential. He has the power to help us achieve it—to become who we are supposed to be. Sure, he could have stayed in heaven zapping those people into perfection whenever they needed a boost. Instead, he came to earth to meet them one by one, to recognize their needs, and to show them that they could be infinitely more than who they thought they were. He was ready to help them so long as they had the desire—and the faith—to accept his help.
During this time of year, we think in terms of new resolutions. We want to improve ourselves and end up making all kinds of wild promises about how we’ll do this. For this upcoming year, I think I’ll try to do what Jesus does: look at people from the perspective of who they can become in God, and do whatever I can to help them achieve it. Resolution 2009: improve others.
Happy New Year!
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Jesus calls the fishermen Simon and Andrew to follow him and become “fishers of men.” They immediately leave their nets to follow him. Next, Jesus calls the fishermen James and John to follow him. They immediately leave their boat—and their father—to follow him. Jesus preaches the good news and heals the sick. Large crowds follow him.
When reading about Jesus calling the first disciples, I’ve always looked at things from the disciples’ point of view. Here I am—a lowly fisherman. Out of nowhere, Jesus appears. He calls me to make a huge, life-changing decision. What Would I Do?
Honestly, I have no idea.
The disciples did. They immediately left everything—their nets, their boats, their father(!) to follow Jesus. And for this, they’ve historically gotten some well-deserved props: a cool song or two, some books I keep trying to read, and general admiration from those of us a little apprehensive about what exactly Jesus is calling us from—and to.
But I wasn’t really thinking about that. I mean I did obviously think about it for the past 5 minutes, but when I was reading this passage this time—along with the next about Jesus healing the sick—it occurred to me that when we’re reading about Jesus’ actions, we should spend more time thinking like Jesus than anyone else. I mean, he’s the guy we’re trying to follow.
So I’ll restart and say that I think both of these passages are about how Jesus sees people. In our world, we have different ways of identifying ourselves. We do it through our professions—we’re fishermen, or teachers, or economists (whatever they do all day ...) We’re our relationships—we’re sons, fathers, mothers, daughters. We’re our beliefs—we’re Christians, believers, people at the temple waiting for the Word of God. We’re our weaknesses—we’re sick, wounded, and fragile in body and soul.
Jesus encounters all of these people in these two passages, and each time he sees beyond who they appear to be. He looks at some grimy, calloused fishermen and sees how they can turn the world upside down for God. He looks at people with physical, mental, and spiritual wounds and sees how they can become whole and complete in God. In other words, Jesus knows all the little pieces that make up who we are. But, more importantly, he sees everything that we can become.
And the best part? Jesus doesn’t just see our potential. He has the power to help us achieve it—to become who we are supposed to be. Sure, he could have stayed in heaven zapping those people into perfection whenever they needed a boost. Instead, he came to earth to meet them one by one, to recognize their needs, and to show them that they could be infinitely more than who they thought they were. He was ready to help them so long as they had the desire—and the faith—to accept his help.
During this time of year, we think in terms of new resolutions. We want to improve ourselves and end up making all kinds of wild promises about how we’ll do this. For this upcoming year, I think I’ll try to do what Jesus does: look at people from the perspective of who they can become in God, and do whatever I can to help them achieve it. Resolution 2009: improve others.
Happy New Year!
Matthew 4.12–17
After John the baptist is taken away, Jesus moves to Capernum. He begins his ministry by giving the same message John did: Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand.
To be honest, I was originally going to tack these verses onto the next section and ignore them. I mean, the passage just wasn’t ... interesting. After chapters of miracles and angels and John the Baptist preparing the way for Jesus, the idea of Jesus finally launching his ministry with the exact same message as John seemed blah. (Anticlimactic much?) And the idea that he moved to such and such a place in order to fulfill a prophecy? At this point, what hadn’t been done to fulfill some prophecy or other? It just didn’t catch my attention.
But a funny thing happens when you stop and think about a few verses of the Bible for almost two months: They start to make all kinds of crazy sense. They start connecting with everything else in life. And they start being your favorite verses in the Bible. God’s wacky like that.
Maybe it’s cheating, but the verse that struck me most was the prophecy from Isaiah, specifically: The people who were sitting in darkness have seen a great light; and those who were sitting in the land and shadow of death, upon them a light dawned.
Michael Card uses this passage in one of his best songs, Immanuel. The bridge begins:
Hundreds of years before Jesus was born, Plato told a story called “The Allegory of the Cave” in The Republic. You can read the original here (it works best when you’re sitting on a sea wall). Or, you can read my lameo paraphrase here:
There's this cave. It's filled with prisoners who have been chained to a wall for their entire lives. They cannot move and are forced to stare at the wall in front of them. Behind the prisoners is a blazing fire which they have never seen. Behind that is a walkway where puppets of people and animals go back and forth, casting large shadows on the wall for the people to see. The prisoners, not knowing that they are in Kabuki hell, think that those people and animals are real, but the truth they know is only shadows.
One day, one of the prisoners is released. He goes into the real world, gradually adjusting to the pain of light, freedom, and most importantly, the knowledge that all he experienced in the cave was false. After experiencing the joys of reality, he not only remembers his former life, but his former friends—the prisoners he left behind. He realizes that he has to tell them the truth.
When he returns, the enlightened man tries to explain what he has seen. He tells his friends that their reality isn't real. The things they believe are not true. He expects to be welcomed with joy, but instead, he is rejected. Not only that, the truth is so threatening to their way of life that his friends decide to kill him, rather than listen to him. And they do.
If this sounds familiar, it should. The Wachowskis made a movie of it called The Matrix. Oh, and Isaiah wrote a prophecy about it, too. Does this sound familiar?: People are living a shadow of reality, not realizing that they are in the land of the shadow of death. Suddenly, a light dawns to shed light on who they are and what happens next.
So ... what happens next? In each story, the next thing that happens is A Choice. The point isn’t that you see the light and stay chained to a wall because that will make being chained to a wall so much more fulfilling. The light reveals your true condition—you’re a deluded prisoner, a person living a shadow life, someone floating in a pod of really gross goo because of Hugo Weaving. Do you stay where you are? Do you fight to be free? Do you tell the world? Do you sell out your friends so that you can eat fake steak and keep living a lie? You have a choice.
Last year, I spent some time researching cochlear implants for work. You may know that cochlear implants are a newish technology that provides sound to people who have severe hearing loss. In other words, it helps deaf people hear. This is amazing stuff. The kind of thing that scientists have been working for centuries to discover. Imagine the wonder of a simple operation which allows someone born deaf to hear for the first time!
But this “miracle invention” has a surprising reception. Even now, many people in the deaf community reject it completely. They have come to accept and take pride in the deaf culture, and they see that cochlear implants are a threat to the foundation of their lives. The implants are a cure for something that was never a problem to them. They call the implants the end of deafness. And this is bad.
Then just last week, I stumbled across a short film called Sound and Fury and I honestly have never been so moved by a documentary in my life. (I highly recommend it for your queue—whether you have any interest in this topic or not! We are inundated by movies that manipulate us into the emotions they want us to feel. This one doesn’t manipulate, but you feel powerful emotions all the same.) It’s an even-handed portrayal of two brothers, one hearing and one deaf. Both men have young deaf children and we see how the issue of cochlear implants essentially rips their family apart.
Why, the deaf brother asks, would you deny your child’s deafness—the integral part of his identity? Why, the hearing brother asks, would you deny your daughter the opportunity to hear and be a part of the larger community? Each brother thinks that the other is abusing his child.
I won’t give away what happens to the families, but suffice it to say that this implant, this tiny device, represents the choice that each brother needs to make for his child. Do you want your child to live in silence—no matter how wonderful deafness can be? Or, do you do everything in your power to bring your child into the hearing world? You have a choice.
Later in Matthew 13.10–17 (after the Parable of the Sower, actually), Jesus talks to his disciples about seeing and hearing. He isn't referring to the physical senses, of course, because Jesus proves over and over throughout his ministry that the physical senses are the easiest to cure. He means seeing and hearing God. It is “the knowledge of the secrets of the kingdom of heaven”—the very same kingdom that first John and now Jesus proclaim with their same message: Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand.
Jesus tells his disciples, “Blessed are your eyes because they see and your ears because they hear. For I tell you the truth, many prophets and righteous men longed to see what you see but did not see it, and to hear what you hear but did not hear it.”
So maybe this tiny passage about Jesus beginning his ministry with the same message as John (and the same prophecy from Isaiah) is not such a throwaway after all. Because it signals who Jesus is reaching out to—and why. It's us! We were the people sitting in darkness. We are the people who have seen the Light of the World. Now we have a choice.
After John the baptist is taken away, Jesus moves to Capernum. He begins his ministry by giving the same message John did: Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand.
To be honest, I was originally going to tack these verses onto the next section and ignore them. I mean, the passage just wasn’t ... interesting. After chapters of miracles and angels and John the Baptist preparing the way for Jesus, the idea of Jesus finally launching his ministry with the exact same message as John seemed blah. (Anticlimactic much?) And the idea that he moved to such and such a place in order to fulfill a prophecy? At this point, what hadn’t been done to fulfill some prophecy or other? It just didn’t catch my attention.
But a funny thing happens when you stop and think about a few verses of the Bible for almost two months: They start to make all kinds of crazy sense. They start connecting with everything else in life. And they start being your favorite verses in the Bible. God’s wacky like that.
Maybe it’s cheating, but the verse that struck me most was the prophecy from Isaiah, specifically: The people who were sitting in darkness have seen a great light; and those who were sitting in the land and shadow of death, upon them a light dawned.
Michael Card uses this passage in one of his best songs, Immanuel. The bridge begins:
That image—that idea of people sitting in darkness seeing a great light has got to be one of the most powerful images in the Bible. I mean, sure, parables like the Lost Sheep or the Sower were very timely to Jesus’ audience, but their immediacy is a little lost on us sheepless Ralphs shoppers of today. On the other hand, haven’t we all felt helpless in the darkness? And haven’t we all felt relief when the flick of a light snuffs out that helplessness?
For all those who live
in the shadow of death,
a glorious light has dawned.
For all those who stumble
in the darkness
behold, your light has come.
Immanuel, our God is with us
and if God is with us,
who can stand against us?
Our God is with us—
Immanuel.
Hundreds of years before Jesus was born, Plato told a story called “The Allegory of the Cave” in The Republic. You can read the original here (it works best when you’re sitting on a sea wall). Or, you can read my lameo paraphrase here:
There's this cave. It's filled with prisoners who have been chained to a wall for their entire lives. They cannot move and are forced to stare at the wall in front of them. Behind the prisoners is a blazing fire which they have never seen. Behind that is a walkway where puppets of people and animals go back and forth, casting large shadows on the wall for the people to see. The prisoners, not knowing that they are in Kabuki hell, think that those people and animals are real, but the truth they know is only shadows.
One day, one of the prisoners is released. He goes into the real world, gradually adjusting to the pain of light, freedom, and most importantly, the knowledge that all he experienced in the cave was false. After experiencing the joys of reality, he not only remembers his former life, but his former friends—the prisoners he left behind. He realizes that he has to tell them the truth.
When he returns, the enlightened man tries to explain what he has seen. He tells his friends that their reality isn't real. The things they believe are not true. He expects to be welcomed with joy, but instead, he is rejected. Not only that, the truth is so threatening to their way of life that his friends decide to kill him, rather than listen to him. And they do.
If this sounds familiar, it should. The Wachowskis made a movie of it called The Matrix. Oh, and Isaiah wrote a prophecy about it, too. Does this sound familiar?: People are living a shadow of reality, not realizing that they are in the land of the shadow of death. Suddenly, a light dawns to shed light on who they are and what happens next.
So ... what happens next? In each story, the next thing that happens is A Choice. The point isn’t that you see the light and stay chained to a wall because that will make being chained to a wall so much more fulfilling. The light reveals your true condition—you’re a deluded prisoner, a person living a shadow life, someone floating in a pod of really gross goo because of Hugo Weaving. Do you stay where you are? Do you fight to be free? Do you tell the world? Do you sell out your friends so that you can eat fake steak and keep living a lie? You have a choice.
Last year, I spent some time researching cochlear implants for work. You may know that cochlear implants are a newish technology that provides sound to people who have severe hearing loss. In other words, it helps deaf people hear. This is amazing stuff. The kind of thing that scientists have been working for centuries to discover. Imagine the wonder of a simple operation which allows someone born deaf to hear for the first time!
But this “miracle invention” has a surprising reception. Even now, many people in the deaf community reject it completely. They have come to accept and take pride in the deaf culture, and they see that cochlear implants are a threat to the foundation of their lives. The implants are a cure for something that was never a problem to them. They call the implants the end of deafness. And this is bad.
Then just last week, I stumbled across a short film called Sound and Fury and I honestly have never been so moved by a documentary in my life. (I highly recommend it for your queue—whether you have any interest in this topic or not! We are inundated by movies that manipulate us into the emotions they want us to feel. This one doesn’t manipulate, but you feel powerful emotions all the same.) It’s an even-handed portrayal of two brothers, one hearing and one deaf. Both men have young deaf children and we see how the issue of cochlear implants essentially rips their family apart.
Why, the deaf brother asks, would you deny your child’s deafness—the integral part of his identity? Why, the hearing brother asks, would you deny your daughter the opportunity to hear and be a part of the larger community? Each brother thinks that the other is abusing his child.
I won’t give away what happens to the families, but suffice it to say that this implant, this tiny device, represents the choice that each brother needs to make for his child. Do you want your child to live in silence—no matter how wonderful deafness can be? Or, do you do everything in your power to bring your child into the hearing world? You have a choice.
Later in Matthew 13.10–17 (after the Parable of the Sower, actually), Jesus talks to his disciples about seeing and hearing. He isn't referring to the physical senses, of course, because Jesus proves over and over throughout his ministry that the physical senses are the easiest to cure. He means seeing and hearing God. It is “the knowledge of the secrets of the kingdom of heaven”—the very same kingdom that first John and now Jesus proclaim with their same message: Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand.
Jesus tells his disciples, “Blessed are your eyes because they see and your ears because they hear. For I tell you the truth, many prophets and righteous men longed to see what you see but did not see it, and to hear what you hear but did not hear it.”
So maybe this tiny passage about Jesus beginning his ministry with the same message as John (and the same prophecy from Isaiah) is not such a throwaway after all. Because it signals who Jesus is reaching out to—and why. It's us! We were the people sitting in darkness. We are the people who have seen the Light of the World. Now we have a choice.
So what will be your answer?
Will you hear the call
of him who did not spare his son
but gave him for us all?
On Earth there is no power,
there is no depth nor height
that could ever separate us
from the love of God in Christ.
Immanuel, our God is with us
and if God is with us,
who can stand against us?
Our God is with us—
Immanuel.
Matthew 4.1–11
After Jesus’ baptism, the Holy Spirit leads him into the desert to fast and be tempted by the devil. He is tempted three times and responds to each with scripture. Then he tells the devil to leave, and angels come to attend him.
I’ve never liked this passage much. I mean, there’s so much to dislike about it: the Holy Spirit leading Jesus into danger, Jesus weak and vulnerable, Satan let loose to drag Jesus from place to place like the evil Ghost of Christmas Past, a bunch of obscure Old Testament verses. Not my cup of tea.
For one thing, I always thought I knew what Satan was tempting Jesus with. If you do as he says, you will get:
But really, Satan’s temptations are not about doing evil or “wrong” things. They’re not about tempting us with things we need (or just plain want). At root, they are about our innermost motivations for doing things. They are about doubting God and depending on ourselves.
When you think about it, it wouldn’t have been so wrong for Jesus to turn rocks to bread—he had no problems changing water to wine for inebriated wedding guests, or making fig trees bear fruit out of season when he was hungry. It probably wouldn’t have been wrong for him to trust in God to send angels for his protection. At different points, when people are gathering to attack Jesus, he slipped away with some supernatural help. And ultimately, the plan was always for Jesus to rule over the nations anyways. But even if these end goals were neutral, any motivation for Jesus accepting them from Satan wouldn’t have been. It matters when things happen. It matters how. And as T.S. Eliot would say: “The last temptation is the greatest treason: to do the right deed for the wrong reason."
So what happens when we mere mortals are tempted? I think the devil's goal is to make us fixate on the things we want (or think we need or think we'll die without ...), when in reality, the heart of temptation is to draw us away from God. There are bigger things at stake than our daily struggles (and failures) because over time, these little surrenders chip away at our faith. In that way, a lot of temptation is not even about us, but about an attack on God. When we accept Satan's promises of sloppy seconds, we lose sight of God's goodness and worthiness.
Then what is our antidote to temptation? Well, Jesus’ example is pretty clear: scripture every time. Faith in God’s word. Trust in his promises to supply our needs. Even in his weakened state, Jesus stayed strong because scripture was such a real part of his life.
This sounds hard to me. I have the sinking feeling that if the state of my faith depends on me being able to regale Satan with speedy and appropriate Bible verses, I'm sunk. (Do you think he'd wait around while I searched biblegateway???) Fortunately, the Holy Spirit had reasons for allowing Jesus to be tempted. Here's why I think so:
Whew (and praise God)! There's hope yet. It must drive the devil crazy!
After Jesus’ baptism, the Holy Spirit leads him into the desert to fast and be tempted by the devil. He is tempted three times and responds to each with scripture. Then he tells the devil to leave, and angels come to attend him.
- Jesus knows the devil and the devil knows Jesus. (Except the devil doesn’t really know Jesus.)
- Even the devil knows scripture.
- Does the devil really have the power to grant all that he promises? Can he give Jesus “all the kingdoms of the world” (meaning that they are his to give)? There are later times when Jesus has no qualms talking about who has been given authority and why, but it’s not his priority here to point that out, so we never get to know!
- Jesus doesn’t send the devil away until the third temptation (to bow down and worship him). Is it the nature of the temptation that is different than the other two?
I’ve never liked this passage much. I mean, there’s so much to dislike about it: the Holy Spirit leading Jesus into danger, Jesus weak and vulnerable, Satan let loose to drag Jesus from place to place like the evil Ghost of Christmas Past, a bunch of obscure Old Testament verses. Not my cup of tea.
For one thing, I always thought I knew what Satan was tempting Jesus with. If you do as he says, you will get:
- temptation 1: food
- temptation 2: immortality
- temptation 3: power.
But really, Satan’s temptations are not about doing evil or “wrong” things. They’re not about tempting us with things we need (or just plain want). At root, they are about our innermost motivations for doing things. They are about doubting God and depending on ourselves.
- temptation 1: depend on your own power to supply your physical needs
- temptation 2: doubt God’s power and his promises for your well being
- temptation 3: change your allegiance
When you think about it, it wouldn’t have been so wrong for Jesus to turn rocks to bread—he had no problems changing water to wine for inebriated wedding guests, or making fig trees bear fruit out of season when he was hungry. It probably wouldn’t have been wrong for him to trust in God to send angels for his protection. At different points, when people are gathering to attack Jesus, he slipped away with some supernatural help. And ultimately, the plan was always for Jesus to rule over the nations anyways. But even if these end goals were neutral, any motivation for Jesus accepting them from Satan wouldn’t have been. It matters when things happen. It matters how. And as T.S. Eliot would say: “The last temptation is the greatest treason: to do the right deed for the wrong reason."
So what happens when we mere mortals are tempted? I think the devil's goal is to make us fixate on the things we want (or think we need or think we'll die without ...), when in reality, the heart of temptation is to draw us away from God. There are bigger things at stake than our daily struggles (and failures) because over time, these little surrenders chip away at our faith. In that way, a lot of temptation is not even about us, but about an attack on God. When we accept Satan's promises of sloppy seconds, we lose sight of God's goodness and worthiness.
Then what is our antidote to temptation? Well, Jesus’ example is pretty clear: scripture every time. Faith in God’s word. Trust in his promises to supply our needs. Even in his weakened state, Jesus stayed strong because scripture was such a real part of his life.
This sounds hard to me. I have the sinking feeling that if the state of my faith depends on me being able to regale Satan with speedy and appropriate Bible verses, I'm sunk. (Do you think he'd wait around while I searched biblegateway???) Fortunately, the Holy Spirit had reasons for allowing Jesus to be tempted. Here's why I think so:
Therefore, since we have a great high priest who has gone through the heavens, Jesus the Son of God, let us hold firmly to the faith we profess. For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are—yet was without sin. Let us then approach the throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need.
Whew (and praise God)! There's hope yet. It must drive the devil crazy!
Matthew 3
This tells about John the Baptist preparing the way for Jesus by preaching about repentance. When pharisees and saducees come, he slams them for not bringing forth “fruit in keeping with repentance.” Then Jesus comes to be baptized by John, which John does after initial reluctance. The spirit of God descends on Jesus and God voices his pleasure of Jesus’ actions.
When I read this passage about John last week, it occurred to me that John was the original megachurch pastor. People commuted great distances to his downscale riverfront location. They couldn’t keep themselves away—even those snakey pharisees and saducees knew that the place was the heartbeat of the religious movement. What was this irresistible message that John preached? Simply this: Repent, for the Kingdom of Heaven is near.
He must have said more. Well, probably. But I kinda like thinking of John as the original minimalist. He had enough clothes to keep covered. He had enough honey and bugs to keep fed. And he had a one-line message that people responded to in droves because it wasn’t just him, and it wasn’t just something about him. It was God.
As any seeker-friendly church today will tell you, “repent” isn’t one of the more popular message series. You hardly ever get glossy postcards that have the word REPENT! slapped all over the back. (Week 1: REPENT. Week 2: REPENT more. Week 3: REPENT the most!) That’s because (shh) common wisdom says that people don’t like to be told that they’re sinners. People don’t like to know that they need something as humbling and honest as repentance. And people won’t like you if you claim they have a problem and you have the answer.
But guess what? It wasn’t the message that people of John’s day particularly wanted to hear. But it turns out that it was exactly the message that people needed—and longed to hear.
We’ve visited a fair number of churches lately. We love Mosaic, but when we moved last year, we thought the time might be right to see if there was a better fit for us. Like most serial church shoppers, we had several things in mind that we were hoping to find: a smaller church with solid teaching, a place we could serve, a place our kids could learn about God, a place to bring multicultural friends. Other things would be nice, but weren’t deal breakers. So we went about the search with purpose. We met with friends, we met with pastors, we filled out a really cool matrix from jimmyliu which clarified our church priorities (you should ask him about it). But we never found a place to commit. In fact, we stayed at one church plant for almost an entire year without fully deciding one way or another about our intentions. Along the way, we ran into friends who were on their own quest for just the right church. After all, they were looking for the same things we were looking for—it made sense that our paths would cross.
The past few weeks, we’ve found ourselves at a new church, which has given us cause to hope. They are going through Galatians, and for the past three weeks, the pastor has had the same message:
And maybe that’s the sign—the one line message that we needed most to hear in our frustratingly long church-search. Focus on the Gospel, not on the friendliness or the trendiness or the programminess. People have always wanted to hear the good news, so they go where they can find it. All the rest is gravy.
This tells about John the Baptist preparing the way for Jesus by preaching about repentance. When pharisees and saducees come, he slams them for not bringing forth “fruit in keeping with repentance.” Then Jesus comes to be baptized by John, which John does after initial reluctance. The spirit of God descends on Jesus and God voices his pleasure of Jesus’ actions.
- Matthew 2.7 is the first time I’ve had to break out my Greek interlinear Bible. Both the NIV and the NRSV (which I’ve mainly been using), say that the pharisees and saducees were “coming for baptism.” The Greek and the NASB are not as clear on their motives. The translations say that they were “coming to where he was baptizing” or “coming to the baptism.” Doesn’t this seem like a huge difference? After all, if the pharisees and saducees were really coming to repent, then John’s tirade seems completely off base. If they really were just coming to the baptisms, that’s completely different. What could their brood-of-vipery motives be? Staking out the place? Digging up dirt on John? Intimidating would-be believers? Because of John’s reaction, I have to assume that he (and God) knew that they were not really there to repent.
- Matthew 2.17 describes “a voice from heaven.” Was this heard only by Jesus (and maybe John)? Otherwise, if people were really listening to John and voices from the sky, why was it so difficult for them to understand and accept Jesus?,/li>
When I read this passage about John last week, it occurred to me that John was the original megachurch pastor. People commuted great distances to his downscale riverfront location. They couldn’t keep themselves away—even those snakey pharisees and saducees knew that the place was the heartbeat of the religious movement. What was this irresistible message that John preached? Simply this: Repent, for the Kingdom of Heaven is near.
He must have said more. Well, probably. But I kinda like thinking of John as the original minimalist. He had enough clothes to keep covered. He had enough honey and bugs to keep fed. And he had a one-line message that people responded to in droves because it wasn’t just him, and it wasn’t just something about him. It was God.
As any seeker-friendly church today will tell you, “repent” isn’t one of the more popular message series. You hardly ever get glossy postcards that have the word REPENT! slapped all over the back. (Week 1: REPENT. Week 2: REPENT more. Week 3: REPENT the most!) That’s because (shh) common wisdom says that people don’t like to be told that they’re sinners. People don’t like to know that they need something as humbling and honest as repentance. And people won’t like you if you claim they have a problem and you have the answer.
But guess what? It wasn’t the message that people of John’s day particularly wanted to hear. But it turns out that it was exactly the message that people needed—and longed to hear.
We’ve visited a fair number of churches lately. We love Mosaic, but when we moved last year, we thought the time might be right to see if there was a better fit for us. Like most serial church shoppers, we had several things in mind that we were hoping to find: a smaller church with solid teaching, a place we could serve, a place our kids could learn about God, a place to bring multicultural friends. Other things would be nice, but weren’t deal breakers. So we went about the search with purpose. We met with friends, we met with pastors, we filled out a really cool matrix from jimmyliu which clarified our church priorities (you should ask him about it). But we never found a place to commit. In fact, we stayed at one church plant for almost an entire year without fully deciding one way or another about our intentions. Along the way, we ran into friends who were on their own quest for just the right church. After all, they were looking for the same things we were looking for—it made sense that our paths would cross.
The past few weeks, we’ve found ourselves at a new church, which has given us cause to hope. They are going through Galatians, and for the past three weeks, the pastor has had the same message:
Jesus + nothing = the Gospel
Jesus + anything ≠ the Gospel
And maybe that’s the sign—the one line message that we needed most to hear in our frustratingly long church-search. Focus on the Gospel, not on the friendliness or the trendiness or the programminess. People have always wanted to hear the good news, so they go where they can find it. All the rest is gravy.
Matthew 1.18–2.23
This passage deals with the events that occur immediately before and after Jesus’ birth: Joseph agrees to marry the already-pregnant Mary, Jesus is born, the magi visit Herod and then Jesus, the family escapes the murderous Herod to live in exile, then they finally settle in Nazareth and the stage is set for the rest of the New Testament. In between, many angelic visions are seen and heeded, and many prophecies are noted and fulfilled.
Before the world became so politically correct, the birth of Christ was such a significant event that a great many people around the world used it to measure time. For example, King Tut was born in 1341 BC (before Christ). The Norman Conquest started in 1066 AD (in the year of our Lord). [Aside: The BC years always confused me when I was little. I thought that people who lived BC walked and aged backward—sort of like Mork from Ork, whereas the AD people (who I saw in made-for-TV epics) were old movie stars, had MUCH better clothes, and lived way more interesting lives (which sometimes involved lions for the minor characters).]
For Americans, an equivalent turning point might be September 11th. "What events led to 9/11?" people ask our country's leaders. "Are we in more or less danger post 9/11?" The difference is that the birth of Christ was not a turning-point event that changed a single nation—it was an event that changed the entire world.
Joseph’s life can be measured that way, too. Matthew doesn’t tell much about his BC years, but here are a few of the things we can glean:
In this passage, angels speak to Joseph through visions on four occasions. They assure him. They tell him about God’s plan. They give premarital counseling. They fill in for babynames dot com (since the Internet is 4000 years away) ... Matthew doesn’t mention any comments from Joseph about these angelic proclamations, but each time he says some version of this: Joseph got up and did what the angel of the Lord had commanded him.
Sometimes I wonder how I’d respond to some direct divine command. On a good day, I assume I’d do what Joseph did—jump up and immediately do God’s bidding. I mean, how could anyone ignore a directive from On High?
But, then, obedience isn’t even a given for people in the Bible. For every Joseph or Saul/Paul, you’ve got a Jonah who runs the other way. Or a Moses who tries to wheedle his way out of obeying God’s commands. Or a Gideon who wastes time thinking up various stupid angel tricks. In fact, it seems like there are more people who don’t listen to God than people who see the urgency of doing his will. And these are the people God hand picked for his Hall of Faith.
Obedience is a tricky thing. Quick—or blind—obedience is actually seen in a negative light these days. But I have the feeling that God's an old-fashioned kind of God. And it seems clear that he chose Joseph to be Jesus' father on Earth just as carefully as he chose Mary.
At any rate, I’ll never look at a crèche the same way again—at least not that silent man in Mary's shadow. He stands for the person we should all be when confronted with Jesus—a righteous person whose faith and immediate obedience allows God’s work to be done.
This passage deals with the events that occur immediately before and after Jesus’ birth: Joseph agrees to marry the already-pregnant Mary, Jesus is born, the magi visit Herod and then Jesus, the family escapes the murderous Herod to live in exile, then they finally settle in Nazareth and the stage is set for the rest of the New Testament. In between, many angelic visions are seen and heeded, and many prophecies are noted and fulfilled.
- Unlike the nativity account in Luke—with its Crystal Cathedralesque cast of thousands—Matthew’s description of the birth of Jesus is very Joseph-centric, with a few uncredited angelic cameos. I always thought that Joseph played second fiddle to every other character in nativity stories (even behind that adorable drummer boy,who—when you think about it—wasn’t even there!) Here, the story of the nativity is all about Joseph.
- When the angel tells Joseph to leave Egypt and return to Israel, Joseph immediately obeys (as usual). Along the way, Joseph hears rumors that make him afraid to continue. Then he’s warned in another dream to go to Galilee instead. Was this an angelic retraction? Would the angel have sent Joseph and his family into danger? Or was the angel just accomodating the fears of a concerned father?
Before the world became so politically correct, the birth of Christ was such a significant event that a great many people around the world used it to measure time. For example, King Tut was born in 1341 BC (before Christ). The Norman Conquest started in 1066 AD (in the year of our Lord). [Aside: The BC years always confused me when I was little. I thought that people who lived BC walked and aged backward—sort of like Mork from Ork, whereas the AD people (who I saw in made-for-TV epics) were old movie stars, had MUCH better clothes, and lived way more interesting lives (which sometimes involved lions for the minor characters).]
For Americans, an equivalent turning point might be September 11th. "What events led to 9/11?" people ask our country's leaders. "Are we in more or less danger post 9/11?" The difference is that the birth of Christ was not a turning-point event that changed a single nation—it was an event that changed the entire world.
Joseph’s life can be measured that way, too. Matthew doesn’t tell much about his BC years, but here are a few of the things we can glean:
- Joseph was pledged to marry Mary
- he was a righteous man
- he cared about Mary
- he preferred quiet actions to public spectacle
- he had a healthy fear and respect of angels
- he trusted and obeyed God.
- he’s a man who both dreams and acts
- he trusts what God tells him through visions
- he cares for the safety of his family
- he acts immediately when given a misson
- he hears, he fears, and he acts in faith.
In this passage, angels speak to Joseph through visions on four occasions. They assure him. They tell him about God’s plan. They give premarital counseling. They fill in for babynames dot com (since the Internet is 4000 years away) ... Matthew doesn’t mention any comments from Joseph about these angelic proclamations, but each time he says some version of this: Joseph got up and did what the angel of the Lord had commanded him.
Sometimes I wonder how I’d respond to some direct divine command. On a good day, I assume I’d do what Joseph did—jump up and immediately do God’s bidding. I mean, how could anyone ignore a directive from On High?
But, then, obedience isn’t even a given for people in the Bible. For every Joseph or Saul/Paul, you’ve got a Jonah who runs the other way. Or a Moses who tries to wheedle his way out of obeying God’s commands. Or a Gideon who wastes time thinking up various stupid angel tricks. In fact, it seems like there are more people who don’t listen to God than people who see the urgency of doing his will. And these are the people God hand picked for his Hall of Faith.
Obedience is a tricky thing. Quick—or blind—obedience is actually seen in a negative light these days. But I have the feeling that God's an old-fashioned kind of God. And it seems clear that he chose Joseph to be Jesus' father on Earth just as carefully as he chose Mary.
At any rate, I’ll never look at a crèche the same way again—at least not that silent man in Mary's shadow. He stands for the person we should all be when confronted with Jesus—a righteous person whose faith and immediate obedience allows God’s work to be done.