students of jesus

A week ago we considered whether we will settle for merely learning about the presence of God or we will seek to experience his presence. He is available to all who seek him: "The Lord is near to all who call on him, to all who call on him in truth." (Psalm 145: 18) We need to call on him; God has designed our hearts to seek after him. Something is released in us as we pursue him. Sadly, there are substitutes for his presence as well. Sometimes we settle for something less, even those of us who want to be his followers. Let me suggest two of these substitutes among Christians. We find them hiding in our everyday lives.

The first is religious activity. Activity is something we control. We can choose when to begin, how much to do, and when to stop. We can look back upon our own efforts and pronounce the pleasure of God. It would not be an exaggeration to say that most “church work” has the character of human activity as opposed to the presence of God. How many of us return home from a church gathering and say, “I encountered the presence of the Living God.” Indeed, how many of us even attend such activities with the expectation that we will encounter him? Our use of business models for marketing and meetings are especially dangerous in this regard. We feel affirmed because we have drawn big crowds for God, even if he declined to attend.

Jesus ministered to crowds of people as well, but he also attended feasts with his friends, who sometimes happened to be tax collectors and sinners. They hung out together with no other objective than simply being with each other. They were people who valued his presence and truly longed to hear his voice. Yet we sometimes confuse work with friendship. Friends may in fact work together, but the difference between professional colleagues and friends is that friends share mutual affection and desire to spend time together apart from any “useful” task. When our religious activity is over, do we leave Jesus at the office?

The second great competitor to God’s presence is our theology. We often confuse knowing the truth intellectually with encountering the truth experientially. In our day understanding is overrated and personal experience is underrated. Our attempts to honor the Lord with our minds have sometimes caused us to become suspicious of any experience with him in our hearts. Make no mistake: Biblical revelation is important. It should be used to interpret and mediate our personal experience, but in the last two centuries Christian scholars have focused on rational exposition of the scriptures almost to the exclusion of personal experience with God. In the academy, and many pulpits as well, personal experience has been downgraded to anecdotal evidence and treated with suspicion if not outright hostility. Even a useful tool such a Bill Bright’s Four Spiritual Laws suggests that our faith requires only facts and faith, but not feelings. From the very beginning of their new life in Christ, converts are warned about the dangers of emotions. No one shares with babes in Christ that the first and greatest commandment includes loving God with our hearts as well as our minds. This has resulted in Christian congregations who have no real expectation that God himself desires an intimate relationship with them. Just as Thomas a' Kempis said, "I would rather feel contrition than know how to define it," we must not mistake intellectual argument for relationship with God. The man who has experienced the goodness of God is never at the mercy of someone who has an intellectual argument against it. The Apostle Paul warned, “knowledge puffs up, but love builds up.” (I Corinthians 8:1 ESV)

Finally, consider these famous verses: "All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you. And surely I am with you, to the very end of the age." (Matthew 28: 18 - 20) Jesus never intended for us to be disciples or to make disciples apart from the personal experience of his presence. To make disciples apart from the active presence of Jesus is to make disciples who look like us, not Jesus.

Amazingly, opening ourselves up to the presence of Jesus is not any different from developing a friendship with anyone else. He goes where is welcomed. He stays and develops friendships with those who order their lives around him. What, then, can we do to teach ourselves to recognize and enjoy the presence of God? Check back next Thursday!

One of the shortcomings in the church today is the lack of God’s tangible presence. What good is it to have a theology that asserts God’s presence is everywhere if there is no evidence of it? Has God gone on vacation? Has he left the building? These are important questions for us individually as disciples, corporately as the church, and these questions also go to the heart of whether we can put the wisdom and power of God on display for the world to see.

The Biblical narrative opens and closes with God’s tangible presence in the midst of his creation and his people. The first two chapters of Genesis are marked not only by his creative activity, but his personal presence in those activities: God personally forms humanity from the dust of the ground, kisses the breath of life into the first man, instructs and guides his children as he walks in the garden with them. The final chapters of the book of Revelation depict the restoration of all things and again highlight the intimate nature of God’s personal interaction with his creation. “Now the dwelling of God is with men, and he will live with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God.” (Revelation 21: 3)

Nor is he absent from the world in the stretch between Genesis and Revelation. God visits Abraham, makes covenant and even eats a meal with him. Jacob finds himself in hand-to-hand combat with none other than the creator of the universe! God talks with Moses face to face the way friends speak to one another. He reveals his presence in the cloud and the fire around the people of Israel. As Solomon dedicates the temple, God manifests in a cloud so thick with his presence that no one can remain standing or perform the duties of worship. Ezekiel saw God’s traveling throne. Isaiah saw the temple filled with God’s presence and glory.

In the New Testament the presence of God becomes something even greater: the Incarnation. From the beginning of John’s gospel we are told, “God arrived and pitched his tent among us.” This marks even greater intimacy and presence: God not only interacted with the world he created, he became part of that world. The reality of his presence also encases Matthew’s gospel like bookends. In the opening verses we learn, “The virgin will be with child and will give birth to a son, and they will call him ‘Immanuel’--which means, ‘God with us.’” (Matthew 1: 23) The final words of the gospel are: “surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age.” (Matthew 28: 20) Along with instructions to his followers, Jesus gives the promise of his presence. In fact, his instructions require the experience of his presence.

The activity of the Holy Spirit also constitutes God’s living, tangible presence in the world as well. Jesus spent most of the final Passover evening instructing his followers to tune their eyes and ears to his presence mediated through the Spirit. When he tells his disciples, “I will not leave you as orphans; I will come to you. Before long, the world will not see me anymore, but you will see me,” (John 14: 18 – 19) he is indicating that the presence of the Holy Spirit is equivalent to his personal presence. Even when he was still physically available to be with his disciples in the 40 days after his resurrection, began to give them instructions “through the Holy Spirit.” (Acts 1: 2) After Jesus ascended into heaven he appeared to the Apostle Paul personally, years later. Paul tells us his gospel came by direct revelation from Jesus himself. (Galatians 1: 12)

Unfortunately, scripture also reveals that it has been the habit of God’s people to be afraid of, or unaware of, the presence of God. As the people of Israel followed Moses in the wilderness, the smoke and lightning that accompanied God’s presence caused them to plead with Moses to act as an intermediary (Exodus 20: 18 – 21). The miraculous works of Jesus brought people face-to-face with the reality that something greater than Moses was in their midst, and the reality that God was breaking into their well-ordered world brought alarm instead of acclaim. Religious observance always runs smoothly when divorced from God’s presence. God’s presence, on the other hand, usually upsets the tables, shrines, and instruments we have set in place. As C.S. Lewis remarked about his Christ-figure, Aslan, in the Chronicles of Narnia, “He’s not a tame Lion!”

So the Bible teaches that God is omnipresent, but forget that: do you experience his presence?

If there is any hope for transformation as a follower of Jesus, we must be able to recognize and experience his presence. We must not settle for anything less than the experience of his presence. We must, in the language of advertising, accept no substitutes. Can you think of any substitutes for the presence of God? I can think of at least two big ones, but that's for another day!

When Jesus says something once, you can be sure it’s important. If he repeats himself a second time, it’s critical. But what if Jesus says something eleven times? Many of us have read the “Sermon on the Mount” over and over. (If that’s not you, take a moment and check it out in Matthew) This teaching is unmatched in its beauty and clarity; many of the phrases have worked their way into the everyday speech of western society.

The other day, as I was reading this passage again, I tried to imagine that I was one of the people gathered on that hillside. In my imagination I could hear his voice, I felt a breeze soothe the perspiration on my forehead, and I began to hear these words with new ears. Jesus kept repeating two simple words over and over. When he talked about us as the light of the world, he used these words. When he talked about loving our enemies, he used these words. And again, as he moved on to generosity, prayer, and fasting, there were these same words. The words I heard over and over were simply, “Your Father.”

I began to sense that in addition to the substance of the message Jesus preached that day, he was also trying to plant something deep in my spirit, namely, the assurance that God Himself is my Father. “Of course,” you might think. “We are all God’s children.” Our idea of the Holy Trinity begins with ”God the Father.” It is one thing to recognize God’s title as Father, it is quite another to know him as such.

What happened to me as I read the passage and put myself among the listeners was something beyond an idea, beyond a theological construct. I heard Jesus remind me again and again that I have a Father, a Father in Heaven. I have a perfect Heavenly Father. What’s more, my Father is within my reach. He’s able to find me in the most hidden place. He is actively involved in my day, my actions, even my thoughts, and this is a good thing, because he’s my Father.

I went back to the beginning of the Sermon on the Mount, this time with a pen in hand. I made a list of affirmations about my Father and me. After closing the book, I had a list I could read out loud. Alone in my office, I read each statement out loud. I heard the sound of my own voice speak the truth about God, who is also my Father. It was a list of things I could be sure of.

• My Father encourages me to love my enemies and pray for those who persecute me.
• My Father wants to perfect me.
• My Father does not reward “outward performance.”
• My Father sees what I do in secret and will reward me.
• My Father will meet me behind closed doors.
• My Father knows what I need before I ask Him.
• My Father forgives me when I forgive others.
• My Father feeds the birds; He will feed me.
• My Father knows what I need.
• My Father gives me good gifts from heaven when I ask Him.

I learned one final thing sitting on the hill with Jesus. There’s a phrase he uses only once, but once was enough for me: “Our Father.” At the very beginning of what we call the “Lord’s Prayer” Jesus doesn’t start with the words, “My Father,” he starts with “Our Father.”

This gave me one final picture in my mind. I saw Jesus as my brother, someone who is with me whenever I pray. In my imagination I had a picture of Jesus putting his arm around me, saying, “Whatever it is that’s troubling you, whatever it is you need, come on--let’s go to our Father together.”