students of jesus

From: "La Passion de Jeanne d'Arc"

N.T. Wright is fond of quoting an Anglican bishop from the last century: “Everywhere St. Paul went, there was a riot; everywhere I go, they serve tea.” It’s a great laugh-line, yet beneath the laughs lies a dangerous question: Do I have riotous faith?

It’s a worthy meditation for the week, and altogether appropriate for a Monday-mood: what is threatening about my faith? Acts chapter 19 details the story of Paul’s three years in Ephesus. During that time Paul took off his apostle robe and wore instead the garb of a pastor. Under his direction the church in Ephesus impacted the city socially and economically as well as spiritually. There was plenty at stake. Ephesus was no small city. The growing Christian community began to change the behavior patterns associated with the town--think of New Orleans gaining a new reputation as the city of holy living.

When their way of life was threatened the ruling powers in Ephesus manifested violence and anger toward Jesus and his followers. In fact, Ephesus was not the exception: consider Jerusalem, Thessalonica, Berea, or Rome.

Do I have riotous faith? Do we? Is there anything about the way we follow Jesus capable of threatening those around us?

• Does our faith threaten our family?
• Does our faith threaten the economy?
• Does our faith threaten the powers and principalities about us?

The earliest communities of faith were not politically organized, they threatened political organizations of every persuasion. The first followers of Jesus were not tied to home, they left everything to follow him. The early church caused the gates of Hell to tremble. Do I have riotous faith? Is there anything about my devotion to Jesus that makes anyone nervous?

I have no death wish. Believe me. I’m also allergic to pain because, well, pain hurts. Yet today’s meditation is about the kind of faith that leads to pain, or even death. It's about beligerent faith.

Finally, consider this worship song from the house churches in China. When our Chinese brothers and sisters gather, this is one of the songs they sing:

To be a martyr for the Lord, to be a martyr for the Lord

I am willing to die gloriously for the Lord

Those apostles who loved the Lord to the end

Willingly followed the Lord down the path of suffering

John was exiled to the lonely isle of Patmos

Stephen was stoned to death by an angry crowd

Matthew was stabbed to death in Persia by a mob

Mark died as horses pulled his two legs apart

Doctor Luke was cruelly hanged

Peter, Philip and Simon were crucified on a cross

Bartholoew was skinned alive by the heathen

Thomas died in India as five horses pulled his body apart

The apostle James was beheaded by King Herod

Little James was cut in half by a sharp saw

James the brother of the Lord was stoned to death

Judas was tied to a pillar and shot by arrows

Matthias had his head cut off in Jerusalem

Paul was a martyr under Emperor Nero

I am willing to take up the cross and go forward

To follow the apostles down the road to sacrifice

That tens of thousands of precious souls can be saved

I am willing to leave all and be a martyr for the Lord.

Perhaps we could sing with our Asian brothers and sisters? Imagine using those lyrics as an act of worship!

There’s only a small difference between the words, “Give what you have,” and “Give what you’ve received,” but it’s the difference between two kingdoms.

Jesus commissioned his disciples on their very first assignment with these words: “As you go, proclaim this message: ‘The kingdom of heaven has come near.’ Heal the sick, raise the dead, cleanse those who have leprosy, drive out demons. Freely you have received; freely give.”

The North American church has been big on the “go, proclaim” part of his instructions: so big, in fact, that in our haste we’ve sometimes failed to grasp his words, “Freely you have received; freely give.” One of the secrets to ministry lies in discovering what you have received before you rush off to give.

These words come from Matthew, chapter 10. It was the first time Jesus sent his disciples out into the field of ministry. Apparently, the Lord considered them prepared--or prepared enough to begin to put their lessons into practice. The disciples had left everything behind to follow Jesus: their businesses as fishermen, their roles as tax collectors, zealots, or whatever had occupied their time before they heard the call, “Come, follow me.”

The difference between giving what you have and giving what you’ve received is the difference between the kingdoms of this world and the Kingdom of the age to come. What the disciples received from Jesus was a new way of life. It was the vision of God’s Kingdom breaking into the here and now. Consider these three points:

“Give what you have” focuses on our talents, our abilities, and our wealth. The starting point is what we have. We bring our not only our resources to the party but also our understanding, our methods and our values. One of the telltales of lifeless religion is people working hard to serve God, bringing the sacrifice of their time, energy and money. A sign of the Kingdom is people who joyfully share what they’ve received.

The disciples listened in amazement when Jesus suggested that a rich young ruler should “sell everything you have . . . then come, follow me.” The logic of the world would suggest that a rich man is already poised to serve the King: he need only redirect his wealth toward God, as if God would benefit from deep pockets. In my imagination I see the rich young ruler walking away, shaking his head, thinking, “Jesus missed the boat. I have a lot to offer.” Meanwhile Peter speaks up: “we’ve left everything to follow you.” Jesus tells Peter that those who serve him will receive “many times over” what they have given up. I’ve learned that we not only receive more, but we receive resurrected relationships, resurrected perspective, and resurrected resources.

“Give what you’ve received” focuses on what God does in us and through us instead of our own abilities. Jesus’ instructions to the disciples were simple, and simply impossible: “Heal the sick, raise the dead, cleanse those who have leprosy, drive out demons.” Easy, right? In reality, Jesus gave them a commission that required them to figure out a way to take the Master’s presence and power along with them, even when Jesus stayed behind.

A parable: Jesus sent out the twelve to heal the sick, raise the dead, cleanse those who have leprosy, drive out demons. When they returned the first ten said, “Master, in your name we established hospitals, consoled the grieving, developed a leprosy research institute, and a psychiatric hospital.” The other two returned and Jesus asked, “Where are the buildings? How did the fund-raising go?” They answered, “Master, we have none, but we healed the sick, raised the dead, cleansed the lepers, and drove out demons. But we have nothing to show for it.”

What have we received? Some will dismiss these words as simplistic yearning for signs and wonders, for flash and dazzle. But no: the essence of our calling is to first receive from him--whatever he has to give--and then share his life with others.

Have we ever taken time to sit in silence and reflect on what he has given us? What abilities, insights, anointings or empowerments can we confidently say we have received from Jesus? The passage from Matthew 10 highlights the supernatural, but Jesus has more to give than we imagine. For example, he also said to his friends, “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.” (John 14:27) Is this a reality for any of us? Then we should share the peace of Jesus with others.

Can you imagine yourself standing next to someone filled with fear, placing your hands upon them, and imparting the peace of Christ? If you’ve received any measure of peace from him, then it’s yours to give. He is the giver of supernatural gifts. He also gives us the fruit of the Spirit: do we have love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control? Then these, too, we should give.

Let’s use our imagination one more time: what if each follower of Jesus determined to receive from him each morning, and returned home empty each night. What would the Master say when we returned?

It was the first wedding I ever officiated. Just before walking out with the groom I suggested we pray. It was more to calm my nerves than his.

Ten years ago, in a hundred year-old church building of wood the Saturday evening light turned the foolish stained glass windows into something truly beautiful. Together the young man and I walked out and faced the assembled families. Together we looked up the aisle to the walnut double-doors.

They opened. Backlit like movie characters, the bride and her father began the joyful stroll forward. She smiled with genuine joy, and I began to cry. It was a very small building, and I had just 30 feet to pull it together before these two young people would become forever one. I croaked a prayer, invited the guests to take a seat, and managed a joke that was good enough to put everyone at ease.

I realized then that the best seat at a wedding is when you get to stand before the bride and groom and do the service. That’s why last weekend I was eager to drive 840 miles just to have the opportunity to perform one-third of a wedding ceremony. I served communion to a young couple who had just moments before recited the vows that made them husband and wife.

The narrow building that hosted the wedding had brick walls and a store-front feel. Gathered around banquet tables were just 80 or 90 guests. We worshiped like it was church and invited Jesus, the guest of honor. The local pastor took my two friends through the vows and the rings. Half whispered and half wept, they repeated sacred promises which no one could keep apart from God’s grace: then I stood before them with the elements of communion. In their first act as husband and wife, they chose to eat his flesh and drink his blood.

I said simply, “Jesus is the bread of life,” and they both broke into tears and grateful sobs. My knees went weak. The same one who celebrated in Cana of Galilee had chosen to honor them with his presence. I stammered a few more words but they ate and drank with him. I was no more than a table to hold the feast. A third pastor prayed and spoke prophetic words of hope and calling over their lives, and the two became one. An outpost of God’s Kingdom was birthed. Once again I had seen the miracle and watched in awe.

Each wedding brings me closer to my wife, and Jesus. The three of us have been entwined for 26 years, which is barely the seashore of eternity. Last Saturday my friends Luke and Kristy felt the ocean touch their toes. The powerful, loving tide will carry them on.

From May, 2010: Beautiful People?

This weekend I read a touching and transparent blog post by Jon Reid called “Repentance.”  Jon details attending a leadership retreat for his church, The Journey, located in San Jose, California. I’ve never been to The Journey, but I can assure you it’s a church capable of making big-time mistakes: mistakes in representing the Lord Jesus, the gospel, or mistakes that would certainly provide good reason for those who are wounded to hold enmity against the people in leadership. I know this because The Journey is staffed by people, and people can be a real pain in the . . . well, you know.

Jon mentions his own history of frustration and pain, disagreement and ambivalence (even now) toward The Journey, yet found himself in close and apparently revealing quarters with the church’s leadership team. Jon found them to be “beautiful people,” even though clearly he has been at odds with some of them. And this impressed me.

I wondered if I had ever referred to those who had hurt me as “beautiful people.” I’ve certainly been willing to give others the benefit of a doubt, but also reserved the right to consider them misguided, selfish, clueless, or even wicked. I’m not sure “Beautiful” has ever made it into my list of adjectives. Perhaps they could become beautiful if they would just see things correctly (and I’d be glad to enlighten them on that account).

So this meditation is an invitation to us all. Without excusing selfish and sinful behavior for even a moment, I believe we have to acknowledge Jesus himself chose to “staff” churches with . . . people. And people can be a real pain in the--well, you know. In my frustration I’ve frequently turned to Colossians 3: 12-14. Perhaps it will hold some meaning for you, too:

"Therefore, as God's chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. Bear with each other and forgive whatever grievances you may have against one another. Forgive as the Lord forgave you. And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity."

Either Jesus miscalculated, or part of our own personal spiritual formation depends upon practicing these words. Admiring these words is not enough: the life of God is found in the act of living them out. But where? Then I think to myself, “where else can I put these words into practice--other than my family and my church?” I never seem to come up with a better answer than either of those two places. Blessings abundant to you, Jon, and to all of us on our journey.

This week is vacation time for the Hollenbach clan. We invited friends to stay in our home and we hit the road: 13 states in 10 days (3,000 miles!). So this week is retro-post “One True Thing Week,” in which I share previous posts about the truest things I know. Today: God created time for our benefit.

From April, 2011: God of the Present Moment