The Power of the Imaginative Story: Matthew (part 3)

As Jesus looked upon the crowds from his vantage point on the side of the mountain, he called them blessed. His disciples, gathered around him as he spoke, must have recognized that Jesus’ words were not spiritual abstractions, but statements of reality. The crowds had come to Jesus, and “they brought to him all the sick, those who were afflicted with various diseases and pains, demoniacs, epileptics, and paralytics, and he cured them.” The blessing to which Jesus referred had been experienced in the lives of the people, not simply anticipated as a reward for spiritual purity.

The tone of Jesus’ message shifts as his attention moves from the crowds to his disciples. He now speaks of blessing that comes to “you”—those now gathered before him:

“Blessed are you when people revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.
“You are the salt of the earth; but if salt has lost its taste, how can its saltiness be restored? It is no longer good for anything, but is thrown out and trampled under foot.
“You are the light of the world. A city built on a hill cannot be hid. No one after lighting a lamp puts it under the bushel basket, but on the lampstand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.”

These are words about vocation, the vocation of following Jesus, of learning anew what it means to be the people of God. There will be persecution—the history of Israel’s prophets confirms the inevitability of resistance. But there will also be the embodiment of God’s intentions for the rescue of the world, an intention first spoken to the ancient patriarch Abram as he was summoned from his nomadic life into a destiny that would result in the nation of Israel:

“I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you, and make your name great, so that you will be a blessing. I will bless those who bless you, and the one who curses you I will curse; and in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed.” (Genesis 12:2-3)

The blessing that Jesus extended to the crowds brought healing and life. The blessing that he gave to his followers drew them into God’s mission. Once again, this blessing was no abstraction; the blessing came as the result of responding to the call of Jesus to follow him. Those who put their trust in Jesus would not create a new religion—they would renew and enliven God’s original intention for Israel for the sake of the entire world.

On Rediscovering Graciousness

On Saturday I will officiate at the memorial and graveside services for a dear friend who died a few weeks ago. He was loved and honored by the people in his life—many were his faithful church family.

I visited him several times before he slipped away from us. I came straight from church on one visit and brought in the order of service that contained the morning written prayers and scriptures. As I read them to him, he gripped my hand and closed his eyes, and then thanked me for those few minutes of shared worship.

He was a man who relished his friendships and loved his life of faith in Christ. While he continued to grieve the loss of his wife, who died a few years earlier, he found great comfort in his relationships with friends and fellow worshippers.

There is a fine graciousness in that kind of life.

In contrast, I find myself flipping through Facebook posts today that make sure we Christians know exactly who we are supposed to despise and who we are allowed to accept. People still want to excommunicate Rob Bell, flush the church down the toilet, mock theological education, and smash those who are on one side or the other of the gay marriage debate.

Please hear me sighing very loudly right now.

Social media, blogs, websites, etc. are fine places to share ideas. However, they have also provided uncontrolled environments for saying anything we want about anyone we want, and making sure it goes out to our zillions of cyber-friends.

This church (universal) of ours is supposed to look something like a light in relationship to the rest of the world, as I recall. Those who identify with Jesus are ones who are to be marked by love. I worry about how that is going for us.

A picture comes to mind: A stunningly beautiful cathedral—a structure whose very architectural design bears witness to the glory of God—defaced by a blanket of graffiti. After a while, you quit seeing the essence of the building. You only see the rantings of those whose only contribution came out of the can of cheap spray paint.

I guess it would be too much to ask us to quit throwing accusations (isn’t Accuser one of the translations of the word Satan? That job has been taken, friends!) and instead start talking to one another. After all, we might actually hear other people and either learn something new (which for some, is the slippery slope toward heresy) or find that what we thought about them was in need of correction.

In doing so, we might learn that we are engaging with real people, people loved by God, and people trying to orient their lives around God.

We need to rediscover graciousness. My friend, whose life we will celebrate on Saturday, reminds me of that.

Lord Jesus, Son of God, have mercy on us.

A Lenten Reflection for March 2, 2013

After this Jesus went about in Galilee. He did not wish to go about in Judea because the Jews were looking for an opportunity to kill him. Now the Jewish festival of Booths was near. So his brothers said to him, “Leave here and go to Judea so that your disciples also may see the works you are doing; for no one who wants to be widely known acts in secret. If you do these things, show yourself to the world.” (For not even his brothers believed in him.) Jesus said to them, “My time has not yet come, but your time is always here. The world cannot hate you, but it hates me because I testify against it that its works are evil. Go to the festival yourselves. I am not going to this festival, for my time has not yet fully come.” After saying this, he remained in Galilee. But after his brothers had gone to the festival, then he also went, not publicly but as it were in secret. (John 7:1-9)


People wondered why Jesus didn’t promote himself more widely. His own brothers challenged him about his reluctance to develop a proper reputation among the masses. The devil once tried to lure him into doing spectacular feats in the public arena, with only the tiny proviso that Jesus turn away from worshipping his heavenly Father. After three failed attempts at this temptation, the devil left the project to Jesus’ family and friends.

In this story, Jesus does indeed enter the public arena, but secretly. Jesus apparently wasn’t opposed to being present to people—after all, he did a lot of that. But he was opposed to putting on a big show for sake of self-promotion and crowd delight.

I wonder how many times we’re looking for Jesus in something spectacular and thrilling, when in fact he is already with us in secret? In demanding the dramatic, do we ever risk turning our worship to the source of the drama, only to discover that it was the wrong object of worship?

My impression of Jesus as I read the gospel accounts is that he was a pretty consistent person. Probably still is, in the sense that there is a character in him that is reliable and honest. There were other voices speaking to him that suggested he violate his character and mission and become someone altogether different. He wouldn’t do that. My guess is that he still won’t.

In seeking Jesus in the spectacular, we might risk the attempt to reform him in an image that we prefer. That’s how idols come about. We make them ourselves and then we worship them. It’s usually a bad deal. Jesus won’t allow for such a remaking, and he still comes to us as who he is, and in secret.

Come, Lord Jesus, come as you are, not as I prefer you to be.