doing discipleship

I had the privilege last evening again to lead, with the pastor, a lesson on discipleship for mostly youth and young adults at Harvest Time Ministries.  Our text was Matthew 21:28-32.

The context of this text is the series of encounters between Jesus and the chief priest, elders of the people, and Pharisees after he has entered the temple during his passion week (21:23, 45).  This parable, like's Luke's better known story of "the prodigal son" (Lk 15:11-32), may be called "the parable of the two sons."  

I share the following insights from studying the text below.

1.  The parable seems to recommend a correspondence between the actions of the father and the actions of his children.  What the father does, he commands the children to do.  In the text, the father does two things: he goes to each child and he speaks to each child.  What he commands the children to do, similarly, is to go and to work--"in his vineyard" (23:28).  As the father has two activities, so his children.  This suggests to me, simply, that the sons and daughters of God must go where he calls us.  That is always the first step.  The second step, simply, is to be about God's business when we get there.  We are to "work" in God's vineyard.  That in turns suggests a challenge, for we must clearly discern between God's work and our own, and then submit to doing God's work when we may in fact prefer our own.

On the theme of this correspondence, one exceptionally bright girl from our study group suggested that "what God does, we can do because we are made in the image of God."  That theology and anthropology has its place, especially in this setting of historic disempowerment (colonialism and apartheid), of people's own sense of their loss of agency as human beings.  On the other hand, that kind of theology and anthropology is in the ascendancy here among types of churches with sometimes destructive effects upon community--since the encouragement to exercise one's authority in the image of God can be taken in a highly individualized sense, as though my God-given authority blinds me to the reality that God has also given his authority to others.  Thus, if two people who are "anointed" are to have a relationship, they must yield to one another.  So the continuing challenge is to affirm human dignity while not robbing others of their own.

2.  "The man" or the father in the story gives to both his children the same, basic tasks.  The text says that he "said the same" or "likewise" to the second child as he had said to the first.  This suggests, in the phrase of the same girl from our group, that "God is no respecter of persons."  And of course, what that old aphorism has always meant is that God does not privilege one of his children over another.  God does not see as humans typically see.  God looks not upon the stature of David, inferior to his brothers, but on David's heart, finding him fit to lead God's people.  In the text, this takes the form of Jesus deeming the unesteemed--the tax collectors and the prostitutes--as worthy of the kingdom as the esteemed, the religious leaders.  In fact, due to the leaders' pride, the tax collectors and prostitutes "are going into the kingdom of God ahead [of the religious leaders]" (v. 31).  But the basic point remains; in the beginning, both children--those who, because of whatever turn, became prostitutes and those who became religious leaders, were called by God "to go and work".  

3.  The difference between the two children is that the first "changed his mind and went" (v. 29), whereas the second did not go.  Of course, for the first child to change his mind implies that he once had a different mind from his father, that is, a mind not to do what his father told him to do.  In this sense, the first child is no different than the second child who clearly shows that he never had a mind to go even though he told the father that he would.  That is, both children did not want to go as the father commanded.  One, on the other hand, did go, after changing his mind--and that makes all the difference.

This means, therefore, that the decisive difference in God's eyes does not lie in what each child has spoken to his father.  If that were the case, then the second son would have been approved and the first not, since the second spoke what was right.  He said, in response to his father's call, "I go, sir" (v. 30).  While we could wish that the first child would have also made a right reply with his mouth, what is of first importance is that he put his actions in line with his father's will.

4.  The priority of doing over saying in Jesus' parable confirms the word of the apostle James, that true faith does not exist without good works (Ja 2:18-26).  The dynamic could be expressed like this: humans beings are justified, "declared righteous by God" on account of their faith, but their faith is justified, "declared righteous by God" on account of their works.  So then, by logic, do works justify us before God.  That still leaves us with the question of what kind of works justify, since works of ritual and purity are "morality" for some as much as compassion and mercy are for others (I believe Jesus sides definitively on that question as well).  Let it simply be said, however, that any confession that denies the place of works for salvation is less than true faith.   

5.  Jesus puts the matter of entering the kingdom of God in the hands and in the mouths of human beings.  He asks the religious leaders for the answer to his riddle--"Which of the two did the will of his father?" (v. 31).  Jesus does not condemn his opponents; they stand self-condemned.  It is they who give the right answer, knowing that the child who went and worked was the one who did his father's will, even as it is they who do not, in their own lives, do their father's will.  It is they who, like the second son, profess with their lips what is right but do not do as they say.  Thus, it is truly "by our words that we will be judged", for our words reveal our knowledge of God's will and leave us without excuse for making an honest attempt to put our actions in line (see Mt 12:36-37).

One final point:

No matter how obvious some of this may seem to works-oriented Christians, it is still worth saying that words are meaningless apart from their confirmation in the actions of human beings.  There is still too much posturing behind words without real substance in the world in which we live.

-Joe

obedience and counting

At our Mennonite worker retreat over New Year's, each participant shared his or her personal faith story.  Additionally, each participant brought one topic for discussion to the group for our second hour of input.  On our day, Anna and I opened a discussion on Luke 14:25-33, a text which I have done some thinking about earlier in this blog and which is a difficult text for a mother and father of four children--for any family for that matter.

Indeed, this is the text in which Jesus speaks of the disciple's calling to "hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters" (14:26).  The text recommends a "forsaking all" for a life of following after Jesus.

In our discussion, we noted that the "forsaking all" of the text is somewhat analogous to the simple obedience with which biblical characters like Abram (in Gen 12:1-9, our first journey story for our first night of worship) set out to follow. Some of us called it "unquestioning", not raising any objections--though there may be many--to what God has asked us to do.  In our attempt to find common themes of "journeys with God", we couldn't deny that this must be one: the disciple's willingness simply to go where the teacher has led.

But that is not all.  Jesus, within the same text, speaks of a "counting the cost" of discipleship.  This "counting the cost", in fact, makes up the bulk of his words in the text and is the subject of his illustrations.  "Counting the cost" means "estimating" whether one has enough resources to "build a tower" before one begins to build it (14:28); it means calculating whether one has enough weaponry and manpower to defeat the enemy before one engages him in war (14:31).  There is only "ridicule" for the one who acts without counting (v. 30).  In light of this, therefore, the obedience inherent to following may not, in one sense, be so simple.  Information is needed, and evaluation.  And wisdom to choose the course that leads to the destination.

Nevertheless, "counting the cost" does not negate "simple obedience", any more than "simple obedience" means refusing to count.  Rather--and perhaps this is why Jesus speaks of them within the same breath--obedience and careful consideration are the two parts which make up the one complete whole of following him.

Lacking the simple desire to obey, we will never go.  And lacking the ability to assess what we need to survive, even to enjoy, the journey, we will never reach "the place in the distance" where God has led (see Gen 22:3-4).

-Joe

deducing evangelism: an inductive Bible Study

Last night I presented to our Tuesday night Bible Study group a lesson I had done on evangelism at Bethany Bible School in February. Our text was Matthew 4:23-25, three verses directly preceding the sermon on the mount in chapters 5-7.

I chose the text to explore the meaning of evangelism because it is one of the places in the New Testament where the Greek word from which we get the word “evangelism” (or its relatives “evangel”, “evangelist”) occurs. In other words, I did not choose to explore the topic through texts commonly associated with the topic—for example, John 3:16, or a series of verses from Romans meant to illustrate humanity’s sinfulness and God’s response in Christ (e.g. Rom. 3:23, 6:23)—yet which do not contain the word or words from which we get “evangelism.” But by choosing a different starting point, we might gain a fresh perspective.

In the Matthew text, then, the word from which “evangelism” comes occurs in verse 23: Jesus went throughout Galilee, teaching in their synagogues and proclaiming the good news [Gk: euangelion] of the kingdom . . ..” Jesus’ “proclamation of the good news” is sandwiched between two of the text’s three key repetitions—the words “Galilee”, the place of Jesus’ activity, and “healing”, the third of the three verbs, in addition to “teaching” and “preaching the good news of the kingdom”, used to describe Jesus’ ministry. A third key repetition in the text occurs just after the word “healing”, that is, Jesus was “healing every disease and every sickness among the people” (v. 23). This basic description is repeated in v. 24 in inverted order: “they brought to him all the sick, those who were afflicted with various diseases and pains . . . and he healed them.” Following that, we find the second occurrence of “Galilee”; just as Jesus went about “Galilee” teaching, preaching, and healing, so now “great crowds followed him from Galilee”. This second time, however, Galilee does not stand alone, in geographic isolation, but is joined by “the Decapolis, Jerusalem, Judea, and from beyond the Jordan” as places whose people received the blessings of Jesus (v. 25).

Again, the three key repeated words in the text are:

Galilee

healing

diseases

Moreover, these are arranged in the following pattern:

Galilee

healing

diseases

diseases

healing

Galilee

This arrangement, known as a “chiasm”, or an A-B-C-C-B-A pattern, is common in biblical texts of both the Old and New Testaments.

Identifying the repetitions helps us to narrow our focus on the text and moves us toward discovering its central meaning. Once we have identified them, we also begin to identify what lies around them and to what they might point.

For example, we now ask if there is any critical information in the text that lies between the first mention of “Galilee” and the first mention of “healing.” Indeed, this is the case: as noted above, there is the description of Jesus “teaching in their synagogues and proclaiming the good news of the kingdom” (v. 23). This seems too important to miss. Likewise, we ask whether there is any critical information in the text between the second occurrences of “Galilee” and “healing”—and we find that “great crowds followed him”. This is also too important to leave out.

Consequently, if we were to visualize this text, we would need to represent all of this key information as we build toward a central meaning. We can do that as follows:

A Jesus went throughout Galilee

B teaching in their synagogues and proclaiming the good news of the kingdom

C and healing

D every disease and every sickness among the people

D and they brought to him all the sick, those who were afflicted with various diseases and pains . . .

C and he healed them

B And great crowds followed him

A from Galilee . . .

By now the parallels (marked by corresponding letters) and the chiastic pattern of the text should be obvious. Even still, one piece of critical information is missing. As indicated by the two parts of the text marked “D” stacked directly one on top of the other, the text converges at a “center”. That center, heretofore not revealed, lies precisely between the two lines of information about the diseases that Jesus healed among the people. As a result of that healing of human diseases,

“his fame spread throughout all Syria”

or, “a report about him went out into all Syria” (v. 24).

This is, structurally, the central phrase of the text; therein also lies the text’s central meaning.

What might that meaning be? And what might it say about our understanding of evangelism?

Jesus is the model evangelist. “His fame” or “the report about him” spread seemingly independently of his person, or perhaps—in light of other gospel stories—in the opposite direction of his own intentions. Jesus did not show up on the scene, in “Galilee”, going about “teaching in their synagogues and proclaiming” himself—even though he was, in the words of the Christ hymn (Php 2:5-11), “in the form of God.” On the contrary, he “went about proclaiming the good news of the kingdom.” He did not consider that the kingdom was his own, but that it was the domain of his “Father in heaven” (Mt. 6:9). In other words, he “did not consider equality with God as something to be grasped”, but took upon himself the diseases of the people, having “emptied himself, taking the form of a slave”, a servant of the people. It was thus his compassion for the people, his passion with them, perhaps expressed most concretely in his ministry of healing (but also through his teaching and preaching)—not his exalting himself above them—that drew people to him. “The report about him spread” as a result of his “suffering with.” Forsaking pride or the praise of human beings, he gained their praise. Seeking first the kingdom of God and its righteousness, everything else was added to him as well (Mt. 6:33).

This does not imply, on the other hand, that everyone who came to him—“the great crowds that followed him from Galilee, the Decapolis, Jerusalem, Judea, and beyond the Jordan”—were drawn to his suffering. Many must have come with other motives; they were lured by the report of his power, perhaps wanting it for themselves, not to the source of his power. They desired the manifestations of his relationship to God rather than that obedient connection itself. They wanted the exaltation without the humility, the glory without the suffering, the resurrection without the cross. Knowing their hearts, “he taught them” (Mt. 5:1). Indeed, the “report about him”, “his fame”, which brought to him “great crowds of followers”, gives way directly, from three short verses at the close of chapter 4, to three full chapters—“the sermon on the mount”—of teaching his disciples and the crowds (5:1; 7:28) about the life of the kingdom.

If Jesus himself—true God and true man—prepares for us the way we are to follow, evangelism will take the course of:

• teaching and preaching the good news of the kingdom, not ourselves or our churches. In our time, the good news of the kingdom means also the person of Jesus himself, since the Father’s intention was that “his fame” would go out into all the world—the Messenger has become the Message, the Evangelist the Evangel.
• compassion, passion or suffering with others, not isolation from or exalting oneself above. It is our “suffering with” that also leads to healing of diseases of both spirit and flesh.
• ministries of word and deed, spiritual and physical. Sometimes the language of evangelism is synonymous with the language of “missions”, as if both terms signify proclamation in word. Sometimes, the language of “mission” goes along with evangelism as a corrective, in order to broaden the understanding of evangelism. In this sense, “mission” is meant to encompass ministries of deed, for example, in the direction of “relief and development” work. Neither pairing seems quite right in light of such texts as the present one. In the structure of the text, Jesus’ “good news of the kingdom” is literally between “preaching” and “healing”, therefore also holding together as one the world of the spirit and the world of the flesh.
• discipleship. Teaching about the way of Jesus or the kingdom of God should not be reserved for some later time in the life of a believer; all the words of Jesus have the power to both draw and instruct people. There are no evangelism texts, on the one hand, and discipleship texts, on the other. Neither is evangelism training in order to do narrow proclamation, nor discipleship training in how to do evangelism in the mode of narrow proclamation. Rather, evangelism-discipleship is, from the earliest stage, instruction in learning to follow Jesus/be led by his Spirit.

For the sake of the discussion . . .

-Joe

"Feed my sheep (don't count them)"

Though I have no way of verifying it, my memory tells me that I have heard a number of Pentecostal and Charismatic leaders over the past several years quote from--of all books--1 and 2 Chronicles. Aside from that, another observation of said church leaders is their obsession with numerical growth. They want to preside over a "big church", have so and so many new congregations planted by such and such a date, and have a new "3,000 seater" building built by such and such a date. Something else I suspect--more through second-hand reports than firsthand experience--is that the conception of discipleship that accompanies such goals is training people who "get saved" to themselves do basic evangelistic work. This basic evangelistic work, focused on "getting people saved", means giving a short presentation of the gospel of a sinful humanity redeemed by Christ's death and offering others an invitation to repent of their sin and welcome Jesus through a formulaic prayer. In other words, in this conception, discipleship is not, first and foremost, training in the life and words of Jesus, but grounding in a particular method of salvation.

This whole schema has been rehearsed and critiqued time and time again, and probably sounds familiar to those reading it here. Consequently, I do not wish to again offer that same tired critique--if only it were truly tired. It seems, however, based on the endurance of this conventional Christian understanding of salvation, that some words of alternative wisdom still need to be said. Which brings me to--of all places--1 Chronicles 21.

Pastor Ntapo recently referred to the story there, another version of which also appears in 2 Samuel 24, as evidence that what seems to be the prevailing ethos of Charismatic Christianity in southern Africa is out-of-step with a biblical faith centered in Jesus Christ. In the story, David, in the waning days of his reign over Israel, is "incited by Satan to count the people of Israel" (as an aside, it is interesting that in the narrative of 2 Samuel, it is God, not Satan, who is the subject who "incites" David) (1 Chr. 21:1//2 Sam. 24:1). Both versions of the story, in spite of their differences, condemn the action of David in counting his people. Indeed, it is David--the shepherd whom God appointed to lead God's "sheep" (v. 17)--upon whom responsibility rests for the sin of counting the people. It is David, the leader, the "pastor" of the flock, whose obsession with numbers leads to disaster for the sheep: "seventy thousand persons fell in Israel", casualties of the "pestilence" God sent as punishment for David's sin (21:12, 14).

If David was not to count the people, what should he have done? And if an obsession with numbers leads ultimately to destruction, what kind of an orientation leads to life?

Perhaps David might have remembered Gideon, that judge who preceded him in the history of Israel, with whom the troops of his charge were "too many" to fight God's battles; rather, it was with "300", down from an original 32,000, that God delivered Israel from the Midianites (Jdg. 7). Perhaps David might have remembered his earlier life, he who found discomfort in the sophisticated armor and weaponry of Saul, choosing instead "five smooth stones and a sling"--by which he triumphed over a giant and put an entire army to flight (1 Sam. 17:38ff). Perhaps he might have "looked forward", as did his forefather Abraham (Jn. 8:56; Heb. 11:17-19), to the Christ who was crucified, rejected by the crowds for his refusal to fight with the weapons of flesh and blood--but exalted by his Father for "enduring to the end" (Mt. 24:13).

All this is not to say that numbers are a sign of unfaithfulness. It is to say that the seeking of numbers bears little resemblance to ministry in the mode of Christ. God will count the sheep; let us feed them with the words of eternal life (Jn 6:63, 68, 21:15-19).

-Joe

God’s justice, humans’ faith

For Wednesday’s discipleship class we studied Luke 18:1-8, often called the parable of “the persistent widow.”

The message of the text advances through four statements which may be divided into two sets of two. The first set is the repetition of the description of the “unjust judge”, the judge “in a certain city who neither feared God nor had respect for humans.” In its first appearance, the description is in the voice of Jesus the Narrator; in its second, it is the voice of the judge through Jesus the Actor (as Jesus plays the part of the judge). In both, the description is of a judge “who neither fears God nor has respect for humans” (vv. 2, 4). This is the characterization of the judge that we are not supposed to miss: no respect for God or humans; in short, he is, as Jesus calls him, “unjust” (v.6).

If the first set of repetitions is about the unjust judge, the second set of two is about the just judge, God. The first statement of the second set comes as Jesus’ question to his disciples: “Will not God grant justice to his chosen ones who cry to him day and night?” (v. 7). The second statement, which repeats the critical information of the first, is Jesus’ emphatic answer to his own question: “I tell you, [God] will quickly grant justice to them” (v. 8). This, then, is the critical characterization of God: God grants justice—and “quickly” (v. 8).

Between the four statements of two sets lies the action on which the text turns—the action of “a widow” (vv. 3, 5). Because she kept “bothering” the unjust judge “for justice against [her] opponent”, the judge granted her justice. The unjust judge himself described the situation:

“ ‘Though I have no fear of God and no respect for humans, yet because this widow keeps bothering me, I will grant her justice, so that she may not wear me out by continually coming’” (v. 5).

The text continues, “And the Lord said, ‘Listen to what the unjust judge says. And will not God grant justice to his chosen ones who cry to him day and night? Will he delay long in helping them? I tell you, he will quickly grant justice to them” (vv. 6-8).

There is an implicit comparison here in Jesus’ words between the widow and God’s “chosen ones who cry to him day and night” (v. 7). Though the widow was no one’s chosen, most certainly not that of the unjust judge to whom she continually cried, she received justice from the judge. How much more, then, will those whom the Judge loves receive justice? In fact, if God the Just is so predisposed towards his “chosen ones”, the absence of justice in human relationships must be a thing dependent upon the disposition of human beings—especially, as the parable seems to indicate, those humans who have been the victims of injustice. Though the widow, for example, may not have been responsible for the initial act of injustice that befell her, her incapacity to plead for justice is the cause of injustice’s continued reign. On the other hand, as the text teaches, her capacity to plead for justice—her perseverance through injustice—is that which restores to her her justice. Her perseverance is that which wins her respect precisely from a judge who does not “respect humans.” Though the unjust judge “for a while” did not have “a will” to grant the widow her justice, God has always a will to do so “quickly” (v. 4, 8). If, therefore, the lack of will is not God’s, the tarrying of justice in the lives of God’s people must owe to their own. God is looking for a people who care about justice enough to tell him about it. God is looking for a people with faith enough not to give up in the face of injustices.

And so, Jesus wants to know, “When the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?” (v. 8)

-Joe

worse than the first

We have now completed six weeks of a discipleship class with our church, Harvest Time Ministries in Mandela Park, Mthatha. Last week, we studied Matthew 18:21-35, Jesus’ parable of “a king who wished to settle accounts with his slaves” (v. 23). As with the twin illustrations which we studied several weeks ago (Mt. 13:44-46), the parable of the king and his slaves is an illustration of what “the kingdom of heaven is like” (v. 23). And like the parable of the Good Samaritan which we also studied in recent weeks, so Jesus told the parable of the king and his slaves in response to a question; in the former, a lawyer, wishing “to justify himself”, had asked, “Who is my neighbor?” (Lk. 10:29); in the latter, Peter, one of the twelve, seeks to place limits on forgiveness: “Lord, if my brother sins against me, how often should I forgive? As many as seven times?” (v. 21). As the lawyer sought to limit the scope of love for neighbor—“to love those only who love you” (Mt. 5:46)—Peter here seemingly seeks a limit for the number of times a person may be forgiven. That this is Peter’s intention seems obvious from Jesus’ answer: “Not seven times, but, I tell you, seventy times seven”—a number so large, however one interprets it, so as to make forgiveness a perpetual state of mind throughout a person’s life, while rendering Peter’s “seven” paltry in comparison.

The story Jesus tells, then, to illustrate the forgiving spirit, or mercy (v. 33), hinges on the comparison between the action of the king who had a “will” to “settle accounts with his slaves” and one of his slaves who did not have a “will” (translated, NRSV, “But he refused”) to forgive his fellow slave (v. 30). Whereas the king forgave the debt of “the one who owed him ten thousand talents”, that very debtor will not forgive the debt of one who “owed him a hundred denarii”; forgiven much, he does not forgive, in reverse of the woman who showed Jesus hospitality in the home of Simon the Pharisee (Lk. 7:36-50). That the one forgiven much will not forgive is all the more scandalous in light of the identical pleas of both debtors in the story. The first debtor, the very slave forgiven who does not forgive, “falls on his knees before [the king]”, pleads for his lord’s “patience”, and promises to “pay” the debt. This very one forgiven, however, does not recognize himself in another, his fellow slave who owes him “five hundred denarii”. Indeed, though the forgiven’s debtor, like the forgiven, “falls down”, pleads for “patience” and promises to “pay”, he is not met with a “will” to forgive. The first debtor does not have the “compassion” (“pity”, NRSV) of his king (v. 27).

We, the readers/hearers of this story are rightly scandalized, for the king’s mercy has prepared us to expect a merciful response from the first debtor when he hears his own plea from one of his fellow slaves. Twice someone has “fallen down”, begged for “patience”, and pledged to “pay”; only once has someone received compassion. Something is wrong with this picture.

The other slaves in the story, the fellow slaves of both the first and second debtors, are, like us, unable to withhold their protest. When they see mercy not extended, they report to the king (v. 31). The king—perhaps like us, perhaps not—is unable to withhold action of his own. He summons the first slave, reminds him of the forgiveness that was his, and outlines what the debtor should have done in his own capacity as a lord (vv. 32-33). Yet until that one once forgiven much will live by the mercy he received, he will be “handed over” and “tortured”—“until he would pay his entire debt” (v. 34). Even here there is mercy. Not even now, as the first debtor did to his debtor, does the king “grab” the slave and “choke” him while demanding payment. The king even leaves open the possibility that the debt might somehow be paid and the unmerciful slave released from prison. But until that time—which also may never come—the slave must live with the prison he has built for himself. Once a debtor of “ten thousand talents”, the first slave, on account of his plea, “was released” and “forgiven”; his freedom was unconditional, on the basis of the king’s mercy, compassion in the face of human need—not on the basis of the debtor having to pay the original debt. Having been given the world, having moved from bad to good, the slave need now but walk in the mercy of his lord toward others—that is the only “payment” now required of him. If, however, he “refuses so great a salvation”, his latter condition will be worse than his first (Heb. 2:3; Mt. 12:43-45). Rejecting the life of mercy, he will have gone from bad through good to worse.

So it will be for us “if we do not forgive our brothers and sisters from our hearts” (v. 35).

-Joe

compassion in the story

Here is my latest column for the Anabaptist Network in South Africa.

-Joe

for the sake of joy

For our discipleship class with Harvest Time Ministries last Wednesday, we studied Matthew 13:44-46, two illustrations-parables Jesus used to describe what “the kingdom of heaven is like” (vv. 44, 45). In gathering the basic information from the text, the line “in his joy” emerged as a key to unlocking the message for the day. “In his joy” refers to a human being who, after finding and hiding a treasure in a field, “in his joy” went and sold “all that he had and bought it” (v. 44). Because the human being, exactly like the “merchant” in the second illustration in Jesus’ pairing, sold “all that he had” in order to get the “treasure”—or, as in the second illustration, the “one pearl of great value”—we the readers/listeners are left to wonder what was so significant about that treasure or that one pearl of great value. Why did the human being, why did the merchant, sell “all that he had” in order to acquire only “one” thing? Indeed, it seems that the human being had many things, perhaps many of them also of great value. Why then did he forsake such great treasure for the treasure he did not yet have?

It seems that the answer is because of “his joy”. Though he had many things, the sale of which was enough to acquire a thing of “great value”, the many things did not bring him joy. Though many is more than one, the many things he possessed could not bring him the joy that the one thing he “found” did. Therefore, “in his joy”, he went and sold “all that he had.”

“The kingdom of heaven is like this.”

When we “find” it, when we experience the presence of God, through his Word, in Jesus, the glory of earthly possessions begins to fade. Their value is not “great” in light of God’s value. The joy they bring is not joy in light of God’s joy. For that joy, the human being will sell all that he has.

Who then are disciples? First and foremost, disciples are people of joy, people who have an all-consuming passion, love, hunger for God and his righteousness—no matter the cost (cf. Mt. 5:6, 6:33; Heb. 12:2).

-Joe

giving up, giving back

Luke 14:25-33 contains some of the truly “hard sayings” of Jesus. In particular I note two parallel statements in three sentences which frame the stories Jesus tells to illustrate the meaning of following him (discipleship). Those statements, two sentences at the beginning and one at the end of the text, are:

“Whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and even life itself, cannot be my disciple. Whoever does not carry the cross and follow me cannot be my disciple” (vv. 26-27).

“So therefore, none of you can become my disciple if you do not give up all your possessions (v. 33).

The main reason for seeing these statements as parallel, of course, is that they both pronounce requirements for following Jesus, framed in the negative. “Whoever . . . does not hate father and mother . . .”, “Whoever does not carry the cross . . . cannot be . . .”, “ . . . none of you can become my disciple if you do not give up . . ..” What one cannot be, of course, without doing what Jesus commands is—in all three sentences—his “disciple.”

If, therefore, we see them as parallel, then we also begin to see the connection between those different “things” which Jesus tells the “large crowds traveling with him” (v. 25) that they must forsake. In other words, there is some connection between “hating” family members and “giving up” possessions. Indeed, though we may more readily accept—in theory if not in practice—that we should give up material possessions on which we have become dependent to our destruction, we are less likely to regard our beloved family members as possessions to be given up. We are very likely, in fact, to see our loving duty as precisely not to give them up, to keep them close, to protect them at all costs. In other words, even if we do not regard family members as possessions, we are inclined to treat them as such. We treat “father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and even life itself” as possessions. We regard our relationships with others as things to be possessed, held on to, maintained at all costs. Jesus calls us to “give them up”, release them, set them free.

Good relationships progress because they are free. The best relationships are those which we did not expect, those in which we found ourselves loving a person we did not set out to love. This does not mean that we set out not to love them; it simply means that we had no intention for the relationship itself, no expectations of where it might lead. We began to relate to a person free of requirements, pressures molding the relationship into a preconceived form. The moment we awake, however, to the goodness of relationship, is the moment we begin to possess it. The experience of love creates the desire to love more, and the desire to love more—beyond where we have even now loved—becomes the expectation toward which we strive to steer the relationship. The relationship becomes a thing possessed, an object of our control.

Because the goodness of relationship is the gift of God—pure grace, that which we did not expect, that which we could not create—our attempts to control it will destroy it. That which is created free cannot live possessed. Jesus says we must “give it up”, release it from our control, forfeit our expectations of it. The good news, however, is that our “giving it up” is really “giving it back”—into the hands of the loving God. God wants us, like Abraham with Isaac, to give up that which is most precious; God knows that is the only way we will remain in love.

-Joe

on following

One of my favorite songs sung in the South African independent-church context is Somlandela, "We will follow Jesus". A second verse to the tune is the dialogue between Jesus and Peter in John 21:15ff. Simon nikaYona, uyandithanda na?/Ewe Nkosi yam, ndiyakuthanda, "Simon, son of John, do you love me?/Yes, Lord, I love you". I enjoyed the opportunity yesterday to join the preaching of that text to the song.

Jesus' third resurrection appearance to his disciples, recorded in John 21, is, in my reading, a story about a crossroads in the disciple's life (here represented by Simon Peter) between the old life (before Christ) and the new (in Christ). In reading the text this week, a pivotal revelation for me was the fleeting quality of Jesus' resurrection appearances to his disciples. After his resurrection from the dead, he did not simply stay with his disciples; rather he appeared, disappeared, and reappeared to them over the course of forty days leading up to his ascension (Acts 1:3). His time with them was broken. As a result, in between appearances, his disciples must have yet been prone to doubt whether they had in fact seen the risen Jesus or, as Luke puts it, merely "a ghost" (24:37). Was Jesus' resurrection appearance a unique experience within the disciples' spiritual worldview, or did it fit established categories? The fleeting quality of the resurrection appearances left room for the disciples to question whether Jesus was uniquely alive--in a quality different from others who had died--despite having had "many convincing proofs" that he was indeed the "firstborn from among the dead" (Acts 1:3; Rev. 1:5).

This, then, is the critical context for the story--the disciples lingering doubt. From there, we see the options open to Peter. How will he live with his doubt? Will Peter continue to go the way of Jesus, the way he began after his encounter with Jesus three years earlier by the Sea of Galilee (Lk. 5:1-11)? Or will he go back to his pre-Jesus life?

Peter, perhaps fed up with this fleeting Jesus, weary from the emotional swings of friendship lost and regained, chooses his pre-Jesus existence. "I am going fishing", he announces to his companion disciples. "We will go with you," they say. Without their former leader, the disciples will follow Peter. They will follow him into the old way of living. No more "fishers of people" (Mk. 1:17); fishers again only of fish. Except that, just as the first time Peter met Jesus, no fish were forthcoming (Lk. 5:5). "They went out and got into the boat, but that night they caught nothing" (v. 3).

This is the perfect set-up for Jesus to reappear to the disciples. He stands "on the beach" and calls to the disciples on the sea. He tells them, as he did when they first met, where to cast the net in order that they might catch some fish. Again an overwhelming catch ensues. The disciples would be truly dim indeed if they did not now recognize the man on the beach as their Lord.

Peter, to his credit, recognizes Jesus and makes his move back toward him. First he puts on some clothes in order to swim back to land to meet Jesus--"for he was naked".

This has long bemused me. Why would one put on their clothes in order to swim? Why also was Peter naked in the boat?

I asked the congregation. Pastor Ntapo: "I can guess that Peter was naked in the old life." Peter, having decided to again seek security apart from this fleeting, seemingly undependable Jesus, ironically finds himself more exposed. He will put on his clothes and go back to Jesus. He will "clothe himself with the Lord Jesus Christ" (Rom. 13:14; Gal. 3:27; Col. 3:10) So too will those who have chosen to follow Peter from new to old and back again. They row back to land "in the boat".

When they return, they find that a meal has been prepared for them. A charcoal fire is there with fish on it and some bread. This is not the fish the disciples have just caught; it is already on the fire for them. The disciples will simply add to the fire what Jesus has already put there. The "fleeting Jesus" is still who he always was: Israel's Provider, giving bread and meat to his beloved in the desert.

But Jesus' love for his disciples is a tough love; Peter feels "hurt" because Jesus has asked him three times whether he loves him. As Jesus was being condemned to death, Peter denied Jesus three times. Jesus now wants to know--three times--whether Peter truly loves him. And "yes" alone will not do; Peter must feed Jesus' sheep. Peter has other disciples willing to follow him wherever he goes.

"I am going fishing." "We will go with you". "I am going back to the old life." "We will go with you."

Does Peter love Jesus enough to care for his sheep? Jesus says, "Follow me" (v. 19). "Do as I do". "Feed my sheep".

There is a danger in singing songs of extreme commitment--"Somlandel', Somlandel' UYesu/Somlandel' yonke iindawo, "We will follow, We will follow Jesus/We will follow everywhere [he goes]--if we do not intend to take the steps.

Jesus told Peter, "When you were younger you used to fasten your own belt and go wherever you wished. But when you grow old, you will stretch out your hands, and someone else will fasten a belt around you and take you where you do not wish to go" (v. 18).

Persecutions and trouble, trials and tribulations are bound to come. Suffering is in the world. Our lives are not our own. Going alone, "going fishing" again, is no recipe for success. We are slaves--either to the world or to Christ. If anything is sure, it is that someone else "will take you where you do not wish to go". But only in Christ is the slavery freedom (Rom. 6:16ff., compare with Gal. 4-5; Mt. 6:24).

I'm still working on that one.

-Joe

certain signs

"A Certain Jew", Apollos by name, once went down to Ephesus.

So begins the story recorded in Acts 18:24-19:7.

There he burned by the spirit when he spoke, and taught the things about Jesus "accurately", though he knew only "the baptism of John."

Later, when Paul came to Ephesus, he found "certain disciples". They too had been baptized--into "the baptism of John."

The "certain disciples" lacked, however, one important thing: the Holy Spirit. Like the "certain Jew", they needed a Paul, a la Priscilla and Aquila, to take them aside and explain the way of God "more accurately."

This "more accurate" explanation is the difference between speaking by the spirit and being filled with the Holy Spirit. The Holy Spirit accompanies the "more accurate" message about Jesus--the one testified by John.

The text does not tell us much about the message about Jesus that Paul told to the certain disciples at Ephesus. Paul reports only that John told the people to "believe in the one who was coming after him, that is, Jesus, who would baptize them with the Holy Spirit." But beyond this we can infer the gospel story of Jesus' baptism by John in the Jordan.

Jesus' own baptism was also an anointing of the Holy Spirit. It also sealed his royal status, as Israel's Messiah-King. Just as the son of Jesse, whom Samuel anointed king of Israel some 1000 years earlier, the Spirit of God "rested upon" Jesus "from that day forward" (which is not to say, from the gospel perspective, that the Spirit was not present in some way with Jesus before his baptism).

More importantly, Jesus' anointing at baptism signified what kind of king he would be. Matthew's account, for example, highlights Jesus' humility. Though John testifies that he himself should be baptized by Jesus, Jesus insists that his own baptism "is proper in order to fulfill all righteousness." And so the sinless Son of God embraces a baptism of repentance at the hands of a sinner, one not worthy to untie the thongs of Jesus' sandals. Humility personified.

If there were any doubt as to the measure of his humility, the next scene finds Jesus tempted to embrace dominion over all the kingdoms of the earth if he will only bow down and worship the devil. He refuses: "Worship the Lord your God, and serve him only." Such service to God, in the mouth and in the steps of the Messiah, amounts not to bowing before Satan but before fellow brothers and sisters, even as Jesus has already humbled himself before John. Or as Luke puts it in a scene following directly upon those of baptism and temptation, "the Spirit of the Lord that is upon" Jesus "has anointed him" precisely for a ministry with the broken and suffering children of God: "good news to the poor," "recovery of sight to the blind", "release of the captives". The Messiah's rule will not consist of sumptuous dining in the courts of the rich, waited on hand and foot by inferiors. This Son of Man has come "not to be served but to serve"; this Son of Man has come "to be counted among the trangressors" in his death on a cross, "to give his life as a ransom for many."

This story is of the utmost significance for human life anywhere on the planet, and particularly so in my experience working with so-called independent or spiritual churches and Pentecostals in South Africa. Concern for access to the Holy Spirit is primary; understanding as to the specific life demanded by that Spirit is suspect.

That specific life, as Priscilla and Aquila once proclaimed to a "certain Jew" named Apollos, is Jesus, the Christ. Although he knew "accurately the things about Jesus", this one who burned by the spirit when he spoke had need of "more accurate" knowledge of the way of God. Similarly, when church members testify before the congregation "I am saved" because "Jesus died for me", they are "accurate" but have need of "more."

A young Pentecostal pastor has recognized this tendency. He testified before his congregation one Sunday last month.

"There are certain churches whose members do not even say 'I am saved', because the community must tell them if they are saved. They must know we are saved because they can see that we have good works."

When such "certain members" by their fellows are anointed such, no longer are they "certain disciples". Rather, they have become, as those whom Paul found at Ephesus, "the twelve", Jesus' own disciples, they who speak and walk by the power of the Holy Spirit.

Again Pastor Ntapo:

"I am not greedy for numbers. God wants people who are willing to be thoroughly taught by Jesus."

And with characteristic humility, as if "disbelieving in his joy", he exclaims, "How I wish I really believed the things that I am talking about!"

So be it for us all.

-Joe

Texts referred to or quoted in this entry: Acts 18:24-19:7; 1 Sam 16; Matt. 3-4; Lk. 4; Isa 53:12; Mk. 10:45; Lk. 24:41