Baby Jesus Super-Power
Thursday, November 10, 2011 at 12:08AM 
Never mind what the website says, the worship team at my church starts up at 10:38, A.M. each Sunday morning. It’s true that we’ve always been a chronically late group of believers, but 10:38 is intentional: it comes from Acts 10:38.
“. . . how God anointed Jesus of Nazareth with the Holy Spirit and power, and how he went around doing good and healing all who were under the power of the devil, because God was with him.”
Call it our secret code. We want to underscore how Jesus did ministry and try to follow his example.
It’s one of my favorite questions: “How did Jesus do the stuff he did?” If Jesus really is a worthy role model, shouldn’t we imitate him? Jesus healed the sick, multiplied food, cleansed lepers, expelled evil spirits, and raised the dead. He spoke with confidence and authority about the Father’s heart. He modeled a life of grace and peace, lived in concert with the Father’s will. But how did he do these things? Our answer sets the boundaries of our potential under the Master. Popular theologianRicky-Bobby suggests that “Baby Jesus Super-Power” was at work. Unfortunately, Ricky Bobby speaks for far too many of us.
I know what you’re thinking: you’re thinking I threw in the Talladega Nights reference just to be funny. I wish that were true. Just today I read these words from a recent Bible commentary:
As a “superhero,” Jesus has a vast array of superpowers--powers to heal disease, calm storms, defeat the demonic, love the unlovable. But one stands out in this passage: his sheer brilliance.
I wish I was making this up, but no, I read these words in a book from a reputable publisher. Perhaps the chatty, conversational commentator was just trying to accessible, but he places the works, the character and the intellect of Jesus beyond our reach. If Jesus did the things he did because he was the Boss’ son, then his example is no example at all. We can stand amazed without any responsibility to imitate the Master.
The Apostle Peter provided a powerful one-sentence summary of Jesus’ ministry--including the hope that we, too, can be like him. I’d like to suggest at least four paradigm-shifting revelations from this one powerful verse.
1). God the Father anointed Jesus of Nazareth. The concept of God’s anointing is nearly lost in many quarters of the church. Yet Jesus began his ministry with the simple explanation that “the Spirit of the Lord has anointed me” for the tasks before him (Luke 4: 18). Peter simply used the same explanation his Master had used. If Jesus needed the anointing, how much more do we? We need to recover a first-century understanding of anointing. Perhaps then we will recover first-century effectiveness in ministry.
2). Even good works require the Father’s empowerment. Who could be against “doing good?” No one--and that’s the problem. Too often followers of Jesus are reduced to the role of religious social workers because we want do good, even if it’s apart from the Spirit’s guidance or assistance. It is a powerful temptation precisely because we can sally forth in our own understanding and strength, yet still do so in the name of God. Jesus modeled something else: “Very truly I tell you, the Son can do nothing by himself; he can do only what he sees his Father doing, because whatever the Father does the Son also does.” (John 5: 19) Do we see the difference?
3). Jesus saw ministry in the light of spiritual conflict: Peter included the phrase, “all who were under the power of the devil.” All ministry is spiritual warfare. John, the beloved disciple said, “The reason the Son of God appeared was to destroy the devil’s work” (1 John 3:8). Jesus saw the world as enemy-occupied territory, and no human was ever his enemy. We need Paul’s reminder that in ministry “we do not struggle against flesh and blood.” Yet we do struggle. It pays to know where the fight is.
4). The presence of God makes all the difference. Like the anointing, the concept of doing ministry along with God’s manifest presence is nearly lost in the church today. We have settled too quickly for the omnipresence of God. We mistake orthodoxy for presence. The result is dry and lifeless ministry, yet we assert that because God is everywhere he must be in our works. We presume too much.
Peter followed Jesus day-by-day for three and a half years. He saw effective ministry modeled. He learned first-hand the possibilities of a Man yielded to the Father. He summarized his experience into a single sentence, a sentence so powerful it could transform ministry today.
Monday's Meditation: The Family Likeness
Monday, November 7, 2011 at 12:22AM 
The younger son is infamous. He wished his father dead, and said so! The fool was soon parted from his money (was it ever really his money?). Finally, with his back to the pigpen, he devised a humble return to the family farm, even if it was only as a hired hand. Of course, the father would have none of it. He was watching for his boy all along. He wouldn’t even listen to the elaborate deal the younger son proposed. The father celebrated his return and invited everyone to do the same. This much we know.
The older brother is not as famous, but he’s gotten his share of recognition over the centuries as well. He wasn’t happy about the return of his brother. He used the father’s extravagance as fuel for criticism of his Dad.
Like many families today, both boys would be surprised to hear what others saw they had in common. They provide four meditations this Monday:
Both sons failed to grasp their identity: the younger son rejected his role as a son. He tried to “hire on” when he returned, which means he still didn’t see himself as the father’s son. But neither did the older brother. He said to his father “all these years I slaved for you.” (verse 29) Apparently he saw his role as a slave, not a son. Whether this slavery resulted from the expectations of his culture or a poor relationship with the father, we can only guess. Both sons had the unspeakable privilege a blood-bond, but neither could grasp their identity.
Both sons separated themselves from the father: the younger son famously flew the coop, but the older brother was left in the outer darkness beyond the house, hearing only the faint music of celebration in the father’s house. Both did so by their own choice, and for a time both missed out on abundance, feasting, and joy.
Both sons experienced the father’s loving pursuit: while the younger brother was still a long way off the father dropped everything and ran to him. Never was a boy so willingly captured. The older brother saw the silhouette of someone coming out from the house. It was the father, looking for a missing son. He was the kind of father who never forgot either of his boys, even when the party was in full swing. The father would go to nearly any length to welcome them both.
Both sons got to hear the father’s view of their relationship: the younger son was not allowed to demote himself to hired hand. He was a son, and he would always remain so. The older brother got to hear these exquisite words, “My son, you are always with me, and everything I have is yours.” Apparently the father never thought in terms of “inheritance.” He had always viewed everything as belonging to his boys.
If I had the chance to change popular perception of the parable, I would rename it "The Father’s Love," because there’s is no identity apart from the Father. Separation from the Father means darkness for all who choose to distance themselves. The Father’s love breaks every barrier. Best of all, the Father’s heart determines who we are even if we don’t have it quite right.
Love Justice? Love Judgment.
Thursday, November 3, 2011 at 12:09AM 
There are dozens of lawyers in my house at any given moment. You can find most of them in my living room. Whenever I turn on the TV the house suddenly fills with quick-witted sharp-talkers. There’s a crusty old gal who has her legal office in a shoe store; there are earnest, slender young prosecutors who apparently have twin degrees in law and fashion. There’s some old guy named Matlock who must be a hundred years old, but I’m convinced I’ll be dead and buried before his career on cable TV comes to an end.
We don’t even have to pay actors any more. When a high-profile case like Casey Anthony’s comes along, millions of us stop what we’re doing to hear the judgment. That day, in the middle of the afternoon, more than 5 million people tuned into the HLN network to watch. Who even knew there was a HLN network? Another million computers streamed the verdict live via CNN’s website.
Face it: we love lawyers, and we love courtrooms. Important things happen. Books are opened, charges are read, juries are seated. We love the struggle, we love the lies and intrigue, and most of all we love the moment of judgment. The verdict is read, the judgment is given, the gavel comes down and bang! the bad guy is forced to wear ugly orange clothes for the rest of his life, or the good guy is set free, into the embrace of his weeping family.
Judgment Day is great entertainment. One day the sky itself will become a big-screen TV and the ultimate court will be called to session. The people of the world will stand amazed and attentive, because justice will finally be done. And everyone loves justice.
Here is a paradox--everyone is in favor of justice, but few of us are in favor of judgment.
Who could be against justice? We want to see corporate greed called into account. We want to know that evil despots will be tracked down, pulled from their bunkers and made to stand in the light. We want hungry children to be fed; we want sick people to have medicine; we want anything that can be made right to be made right if it is in anyone’s power. And then we stub our toe, because we begin to realize: there is no justice apart from judgment. Someone must bring the gavel down.
Who loves Judgment Day? Those who need a judge to set things right. The poor of the earth are powerless in the face of overwhelming strength. Or greed. Or even intellect--we instinctively know it’s not right for the smart to deceive the slow of wit.
Who cries for justice? The scripture says that the blood of the slain cries out from the ground. A hungry child may not know the right word, but it cries for justice every time it holds out an empty bowl. The Psalms tell us that creation itself will sing and dance at the sound of justice:
Let the fields be jubilant, and everything in them;
Let all the trees of the forest sing for joy.
Let all creation rejoice before the LORD, for he comes,
He comes to judge the earth.” (Psalm 96: 12-13)
Even the one who said, “Let him who is without sin throw the first stone” looked forward to the justice of God. Just days before his death, Jesus told a story where wretched people came to a wretched end. He explained his parable by saying, “God’s kingdom is going to be taken away from you and given to a nation that will produce the goods. Anyone who falls on his stone will be smashed to pieces, and anyone it falls on will be crushed.” (Matthew 21: 43-44)
Justice and judgment provide twin challenges for the heart of every student of Jesus.
The first challenge is to connect justice to the judge. God’s friend Abraham asked, “Will not the Judge of the earth do right?” He pleaded for the lives of innocent people by bargaining with God. Along with Abraham, we are shocked to discover how few innocents there were. Although Abraham’s negotiation concluded with ten people, we see God’s heart when he rescued even fewer--the only righteous family in a city of thousands. This story gives us the courage to pray for justice, to pray often, and to trust the Judge will do right--even if we stop too soon.
The second challenge is to work for justice while leaving judgment to the Judge. We are called to share his heart--even some of his authority, but we must know the limits of our calling. Sometimes people who know what is right are the most dangerous among us. We mistake our knowledge for the will of God, and cross the line between representing him and taking action that belongs to him. We need to discover that the work of the cross was also a work of judgment, but the Judge of the earth took the judgment upon Himself. Do we have such a heart? We need to listen to an old man, known as “James the Just”, when he explained judgment will be merciless to the one who has shown no mercy, but mercy triumphs over judgment. (James 2:13)
Tonight I will watch the well-tailored and confident lawyers argue the law. I’ll marvel at their smarts and gimmicks. But I will also feel that faint shudder along my spine that reminds me we are only children, playing a game that will someday be very real, and very different.
Monday Meditation: Complete in Him?
Monday, October 31, 2011 at 12:01AM 
Back in fifth grade I talked in class--a lot. When saintly Mrs. Wilson reached the limit of her patience, she made me write, “I will not talk in class” one hundred times on the blackboard. It was a classic educational moment. I was so short I needed to use a chair to reach the top of the board. I thought I would never finish. If only they had cut and paste back then! When I returned to school the next day--you guessed it--I still spoke out of turn in class.
The list of things I should not do has grown longer since those days: I should not slap people in the face when they drive me crazy; I should not wager the mortgage money on my lucky Lotto numbers; I should not text in the movie theater (or while driving); and I should not spend as much time as I do cruising the social network. Perhaps you can add to the list of things I should not do.
Don’t bother: I’ve given up trying not to do things. There are several problems with trying not to do things. I have a bad memory for rules, I lack the discipline, and I usually lack the will to follow them.
The Apostle Paul was one of the greatest rule-followers ever, yet he became a messenger of freedom. Imagine a man who had memorized every one of the 614 points of the Old Testament law writing these freedom-filled words:
Since you died with Christ to the basic principles of this world, why, as though you still belonged to it, do you submit to its rules: "Do not handle! Do not taste! Do not touch!"? These are all destined to perish with use, because they are based on human commands and teachings. Such regulations indeed have an appearance of wisdom, with their self-imposed worship, their false humility and their harsh treatment of the body, but they lack any value in restraining sensual indulgence. (Colossians 2: 20 - 23)
This same Apostle of freedom had exchanged one kind of teaching for another. As a result, he had but one goal for his converts: that they would resemble Jesus:
“We proclaim him, admonishing and teaching everyone with all wisdom, so that we may present everyone perfect in Christ.” (Colossians 1: 28)
Both passages refer to “teaching.” Both teachings have perfection as the goal, yet the two kinds teaching produce very different results. Part of the the mystery of Paul’s letter to the Colossians revolves around this very issue, and provides the perfect week’s meditation:
- What kind of teaching can lead me to perfection in Christ?
- What does “perfection” mean?
- Is it possible in my life?
- What does the Spirit mean when he says “in Him you have been made complete” (Colossians 2:10 - NASB)?
We could spend a lifetime in Paul’s letter to the Colossians looking for answers, but in my experience these questions are rarely asked. Perhaps dwelling on them this week could change the course of your life as a follower of Jesus. Do you dare?
I'm Cured (except I'm still always sick)
Thursday, October 27, 2011 at 12:01AM 
One day my doctor told me I was sick, but I wasn’t sure if I believed him.
“Believe me,” he said. “You’re sick, and you’re going to die without the cure.”
“I don’t feel sick.”
“And you won’t. Right up ‘til when you die.”
It went on like this week after week. He wore me down. Then I took the medicine.
But something strange happened: just about the time I took the medicine I became convinced I was sick. Sure, I took the medicine, because that’s what sick people do. My doctor tried to tell me the medicine had worked.
“OK, then,” he said. “All finished. Off you go. You’re healed.”
“But you told me I was sick.”
“Yes. You were, but now you’re healed.”
“I’m pretty sure I’m sick. You said I would die without the cure.”
“And so you would have. But you took the cure. It did its work. You’re all better. In fact, you’re better than better: it’s exactly like you’re completely new.”
I argued with him for a while because I knew I was sick. Deep down. I’d need the cure every day. Because I’m a sicko. That was 41 years ago, ever since I took the cure. But this is my story, in fact, it’s my song: I’m sick and I’ve taken the cure. I’ll always be sick because that’s what sick people do.
***
All right. Time to come clean. I made that up. Or did I? Because I’ve overheard people who have taken the cure, and they still talk like they’re sick. Perhaps you’ve heard them, too.
“I’m just a sinner saved by grace,” they say (or sing). “There’s nothing good inside of me, I’ll always be a sinner, because that’s what I always do.” I’ve known people who have sung the same song for 40 years. It seems when they agreed with the sin-diagnosis, they apparently thought it described a permanent condition. I know one guy who has memorized Jeremiah 17:9. He apparently made it the signature theme of his walk with God. Funny, I thought the cure included a heart transplant.
Dr. Willard, my family physician, agrees. He warns us against the idea “that the low level of spiritual living among professing Christians is to be regarded as ‘only natural,’ only what is to be expected.” He taught me to reject the notion that our destiny is constant failure and that Christ’s ministry is nothing but unending forgiveness. Many believers have experienced the new birth and are convinced their cosmic state is forever a babe.
We have over-talked about what sin takes away and under-talked about what the Spirit has put in us. Dr. Willard is concerned with more than the cure. True, our life with God must start with the cure, but the possibilities of new life in Christ are--quite literally--endless.
Make no mistake: sin is cancer, and it will kill us in this life and the next. It’s serious business, so the Father has provided a serious remedy. It’s called the new birth. Paul calls it the new creation, Peter calls us new-born babes. We must determine whether these phrases are merely religious metaphors or if they depict a spiritual reality. The image of spiritual birth also contains the hope of spiritual growth. Are we forever trapped within the cancer of sin?
There’s a cure, not just a treatment. Our challenge is how we see Jesus, and for many of us, he is only a treatment. When we limit the work of Jesus to nothing but forgiveness, we lose sight of the possibilities of experiencing a new kind life with him here and now. That would be a shame, because the Cure really does work: not only in the next life but right here in this one as well.
So--how are you feeling now?