students of jesus

Honestly, who’s going to lock God out of their building?

God will sneak in anywhere. He’s eager to meet gentle and humble spirits, even if the gatekeepers try to keep him away. He’ll do anything to connect with the pure in heart: he’s been smuggled into the building wrapped in a baby-blanket, carried by a first-time mother. He wanted to meet two such hearts long ago. Do you remember their story?

Simeon and Anna were on the fringe of life in the temple. (You can find this account in Luke, chapter 2.) They were two harmless old people who held no religious office, had no power, and most likely had very little respect from the people in charge. This temple, the religious center of Judaism, was megachurch-big and just as busy. Who took time to notice a couple of slow-moving white-haired folks on the sidelines? God. God did.

Simeon had a secret, and his secret was so powerful it was keeping him alive. Simeon had been promised that he wouldn’t die until he had seen the “consolation of Israel.” Most people would have thought he was crazy: do you know how long Jewish people had been waiting for a Messiah? Decades. Centuries. Their country was overrun with Romans, and before that the Greeks had been in charge. Religious leaders had led failed uprisings and dashed the hopes of people for at least two hundred years. But Simeon was “righteous and devout,” a man dedicated to God and sensitive to the Holy Spirit. God told Simeon he would not die without seeing the promise.

Anna had eyes to see and ears to hear—even if she did work in the nursery. She was very old, and had been without her husband for decades. What religious system—run by men—would take any notice of a powerless widow, even if she held a title of “prophet”? Anna heard the voice of God amidst the busy-ness and din of the worship industry. The Spirit led her to that place where Simeon’s promise was fulfilled, and she saw him worshipping the Baby God. It was her turn; she took the child in her arms. That’s what a lifetime of prayer, fasting, and waiting will do: you see things other people miss. Anna, the prophet, was willing to tell anyone who would listen, but who listens to 84 year-old widows?

It turns out that Simeon and Anna are still speaking. They tell us that even in a corrupt religious system, people of purity can thrive and connect with God. Thirty years before Jesus began to preach in Galilee he was already connecting with people like Simeon and Anna, because God gives grace to the humble. It’s what he always does: he had already invited nameless shepherds and pagan astrologers to visit the divine delivery room of the child Christ. Now, eight days later, God whispered his secrets again, this time right in the Temple!

He has never stopped. Jesus made a big splash when he returned to the Temple years later. He invited people to drink deep of the Spirit. Later he made a whip and invited the greedy to leave. When the religious leaders finally took notice of Jesus, they plotted ways to keep him out. The chief priest even justified the thought of murder by saying it was better for one man to die for the sake of the nation. (If he only knew what he was saying.) The religious big shots tried their best: when they crucified his body, he returned in Spirit. When they got rid of the Rabbi, he came back through his disciples. God will never stop reaching out to those who hunger and thirst for righteousness. They will be filled.

There’s just one application from all this: let’s not waste our time blaming the system. Religious systems (like all systems) are flawed. But God finds a way to become present with his people. We can spend time criticizing the flaws and denouncing hypocrisy, or we become like Simeon and Anna, to whom God keeps his promise, as he always does.

I’m not a church historian and I’m not an academic, but I have been a Bible teacher for a few years, and a pastor for fewer still. During these years I have noticed among believers two responses to the book of Acts. Some regard Acts as a book of history, while others consider it a description of the possibilities of church life. In my walk with God I started in the first camp and eventually arrived at the second.

The book of Acts is indeed a history of the earliest church. It chronicles the growth of the gospel from Jerusalem to Rome. It details the actions of the Apostles and the first believers. It is inspiring the way great history should be. In the final analysis, however, history remains an account of the past, and the past is safely isolated from the present.

As I came to regard the book of Acts as normative, my comfortable Christian life was shaken to the core. Did the Holy Spirit inspire the book of Acts as an example for us today? Is it possible He wants us to consider the life of the earliest believers as normative? If so, then I—we—have fallen short. Consider just this one passage:

The apostles performed many miraculous signs and wonders among the people. And all the believers used to meet together in Solomon’s Colonnade. No one else dared join them, even though they were highly regarded by the people. Nevertheless, more and more men and women believed in the Lord and were added to their number. As a result, people brought the sick into the streets and laid them on beds and mats so that at least Peter’s shadow might fall on some of them as he passed by. Crowds gathered also from the towns around Jerusalem, bringing their sick and those tormented by evil spirits, and all of them were healed. ~ Acts 5: 12 – 16

Since I have determined to read the book of Acts as normative it has ruined me forever. Consider just a few points capable of changing our view of the church:

• This passage occurs immediately after two people dropped dead in the church (Acts 5: 1 – 11). Can you imagine the response if a husband and wife were carried away—dead—from an elders meeting in an American church today? Even more astounding: the deaths of Ananias and Sapphira did not cause a crisis in church leadership. Instead, the incident likely established the leadership even more!

• The earliest church had no facilities. They met on the Temple grounds out in the open. What a spectacle these followers of Jesus must have been. Everyone in town knew where they met and when. Christian community was demonstrated in public. The attraction of the church had nothing to do with facilities, bells or whistles but rather the authentic lives of the people.

• How many churches in our day are both “highly regarded” and also cause people to think twice before joining? (v13) The people in Jerusalem observed a group of believers so radical outsiders considered it a calculated risk to venture into their midst. In our day people join churches—and unjoin them—for a variety of reasons. The fear of God is not usually very high on anyone’s list.

• Notice the word, “Nevertheless” in verse 14: even though no one dared join them, “more and more men and women believed in the Lord and were added to their number.” Have you ever encountered an outreach program like that? The church in Jerusalem was so dynamic it was scary. It was also so dynamic outsiders couldn’t stay away! Imagine a church capable of inspiring fear and fascination.

• Peter, a leader in this church, had a reputation for healing. His reputation was so widespread the public observed his daily routine and dragged the sick into the streets just to be in his proximity. Peter’s “healing ministry” did not involve outreach, meetings, or even prayer! Yet the entire community knew the Peter was a follower of Jesus.

• The healing ministry associated with the early church in Jerusalem gathered crowds from the countryside. It would be no easy task to carry a sick family member up the hillside to Jerusalem, but the reputation of the first Christians was so strong that people came from literally miles around to encounter the same healing anointing that Jesus himself carried. These people did not go home disappointed, “all of them were healed.” If Acts is indeed intended to be normative, it presents a breathtaking standard: all of them were healed.

• Amazingly, this church still had a lot to learn! The next 23 chapters of Acts depict a group of believers still willing to learn and grow as followers of Christ. This Jerusalem church was not ethnically diverse. Its vision did not extend to the Gentiles. The leadership had plenty more to learn, and they made mistakes along the way.

There is a difference between history and revelation. It’s the difference between examining the scriptures or letting the scriptures examine us.

It’s an established fact: parents do not live in reality.

When I was a 4-foot, 11-inch freshman in high school (you heard me), my Dad regularly told me I was a tough guy—tough enough to “beat up anyone in the school.” I knew what he was up to. He wanted me to believe in myself. He wanted me to approach life from a posture of confidence, yet he obviously didn’t live in my world. He had good intentions, but no wisdom to help me through high school.

This is true of all parents. When my oldest daughter went through high school she had a highly calibrated sense of social judgment and hierarchy. She knew from day to day who was “in” and who was "out." Check that—she knew it from hour to hour. This time I was the father: “Honey, who cares what other people think? You are smart, funny, warm, and beautiful.” Right, Dad.

I was disconnected from her world. I didn’t know the score, and what’s more, I was powerless to change the score. All the areas that matter to a teenage girl were beyond what little influence or power I possessed. What’s more, I suspect she would have been embarrassed if I really did know and understand her world. It belonged to her, not me.

The two lessons we learn growing up? Our loved ones may not have the wisdom or the power to help us. We are utterly on our own. Sometimes the best advice from our loved ones cannot provide the wisdom and strength we need to face our challenges. Experience teaches us that even if we trust our parent’s heart and motives toward us, they do not have the wisdom to guide us, or the power to act on our behalf. We love them and they love us, but it is not enough.

This is precisely the heart of the problem: first-hand we see our parent’s limitations, which means our experience also teaches us not to trust the Heavenly Father. One of the deepest transitions following our born-again experience is the need to grow up again—this time with the perfect parent. Paul wasn’t kidding when he said:

So from now on we regard no one from a worldly point of view. Though we once regarded Christ in this way, we do so no longer. Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here! (2 Corin. 5:16-17)

When he urged us not to regard anyone from a worldly point of view, it’s important to include the Heavenly Father in that mix. We enter a new world, with a new Father, and the defenses we built up to protect us from our earthly parents can actually hold us back from the love and yes, power, that flows from the New Father. In God’s kingdom, the Father displays perfect love (motivation), perfect wisdom (insight), and perfect power (strength to help us) toward his children.

After we come to terms with the idea that the One who knows us best loves us most we have a second transformation: total surrender to the Perfect Father. We have so many years of disappointment; too many memories of our loved ones letting us down. Life experience has caused us to turn inward. We take care not to let our hearts fall too deeply in love. We live by the whispered caution, “Take care: no one understands!”

The good news is better than you could have ever hoped for. We have Father poised toward us with perfect love, wisdom, and power. In the Kingdom of God there is a new, established fact: our New Father sees things the way they really are. We can trust him. 

My twelve year-old still believes in the sanctity of the pinky-swear, in which we lock our fingers in solemn promise. I don’t blame her: most promises need some kind of reinforcement. Promises are not very good currency these days. In nearly every area of life, promises, it seems, really were made to be broken. In business, politics, marriage, and the innocence of childhood the promises we hear (and the promises we speak) are not worth the paper they’re written on. In modern life we have trained ourselves to discount promises as nothing more that echoes in the wind.

That’s why this passage from Second Peter is so arresting. Apparently there is someone capable of keeping promises, and more than that, these promises are capable of lifting us into eternity. See if you can catch what Peter says about promises, and what they can do:

His divine power has given us everything we need for a godly life through our knowledge of him who called us by his own glory and goodness. Through these he has given us his very great and precious promises, so that through them you may participate in the divine nature, having escaped the corruption in the world caused by evil desires. (2 Peter 1:3-4)

Take note: God’s promises are a pathway to sharing in his divine nature. I don’t even know what the phrase means, “participate in the divine nature,” but whatever it means, it’s got to be good! Note, too, the strange connection: God makes promises to us, and his promises lift us up to participate in his nature.

Have you ever taken inventory of God’s promises? My personal inventory includes two kinds of promises from God: those I find in the scripture, and those he has spoken to me directly. Let’s look at both.

From Genesis to Revelation, the scripture is filled with promise. The Creator stakes his relationships and reputation on his promises. Through his promises nature is protected, families pack up and move, nations are birthed: all upon the promises of God. Through the scripture our Lord promises his presence, sends his Spirit, and etches each of our names forever in the white stone of eternity. Through his promises each child of God is born into a family older than any nobility, wealthier than a Gates or a Buffett.

The promises are writ plain for us all, why should we be ignorant of our heritage? Nor can any list here do justice to the bounty of his promises: his goodness and mercy endures forever; that same mercy triumphs over judgment; it’s his good pleasure to give us the Kingdom; he will never leave us or forsake us. Seriously, how could any follower of Jesus get through life without such treasures? And this list is the merest start.

“But these are at-large Bible promises,” you protest. “They are generalizations, abstractions meant to describe the Almighty, little more than church words spoken into the air as comfort from a distant God.”

I suppose you could say so. I’ve certainly been tempted to think such thoughts. What has saved me from ignoring them are the times His Spirit has visited me up close and whispered promises so intimate and specific they could only be meant for me. This is the second aspect of God’s promises: his words are not confined to the inspired scripture; he speaks to you and me, personally.

What personal promises have you received from God? The same One who created you body-and-soul in the secret place of your mother’s womb has spoken promises to you—just to you. Have you heard them? Sometime I should share what God has promised me, and how his words have been fulfilled—or in which promises I’m still waiting and trusting. But enough about me: it’s vital that each one of us hears his voice and discovers his promises.

Finally, the reason they are promises and not prophesies is because a promise is an invitation. He invites us into deeper trust and relationship with each promise. What we hear and how we respond shape our spiritual formation. He uses his promises to transform us into his likeness.

I’m finished, but before you go, consider:

Can I hear his promises?

Will I remember his promises?

How can I live into his promises?

It’s the deepest and most beautiful problem I have ever faced. This challenge has filled me with vulnerability and risk. Working through this wonderful problem has yielded life and peace.

Before I get to the problem you must know this: I like to hide. You won’t hear what I’m thinking right away. Some thoughts you will never hear. I craft the image I want you to see; I live in fear you’ll see through the hologram. Hidden in my deepest space is the driving fear, if you really knew me, you wouldn’t like what you see. You say you admire transparency but I know the truth: you will be repulsed if I let you in all the way.

And yet, this is not the problem.

The problem is: the one who knows me best loves me the most. God. God is the problem; all my defenses are useless before him. And it fills me with terror.

Enough about me. Other people have had this problem. A man named David had the same fears:

You have searched me, Lord, and you know me.

You know when I sit and when I rise;

You perceive my thoughts from afar.

You discern my going out and my lying down;

You are familiar with all my ways.

Before a word is on my tongue you, Lord, know it completely.

You hem me in behind and before, and you lay your hand upon me.

Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too lofty for me to attain. (Psalm 139:1-6)

It is no surprise to me that David wants to run: in verse seven he asks the same question I would ask:

Where can I go from your Spirit?
 Where can I flee from your presence?

By the end of this Psalm David presents the fruit of his struggle. He surrenders. God wins. David opens the secret places to the One who has already been there all along:

Search me, God, and know my heart;
 test me and know my anxious thoughts. See if there is any offensive way in me,
 and lead me in the way everlasting. (Psalm 139:23-24)

David invites the Creator into the violent places hidden deep in his heart. In these places God will discover David’s longings, lusts, and insecurities. Am I willing to make the same invitation?

And this is only half the problem. Because the Great Invader of my most secret places—the very God who is holy, holy, holy—loves me despite the tempest raging in my secret place. Not only has God not been fooled by the hologram I have perfected, he loves the confused mess that is the reality of my heart. And I hate this. His love, too, causes me to want to run.

In my pride I resent that there is someone so great, so kind, so condescending as to look beyond my faults. I writhe under the pain that his love for me is greater than my self-love—greater, deeper, more pure, altogether clean. My insecurities tempt me to reduce the eternal love of God to just another human love that will disappoint in the end.

You’re asking, “What could be so wrong with being loved?” Yet this is precisely where the challenge lives. Do I dare believe such love exists, and that I am the focus of such love? To make peace with this invasive love means the end of my pride, my self-love, my shame and my insecurities. It means (as I said at the beginning) risk and vulnerability because it means absolute surrender to the Other.

If you’ve never worked through the implications of being loved perfectly, you have a journey yet to take. Anyone can accept a gift—even eternal life—without receiving perfect love. The discovery of the Father’s boundless love is an invitation to strip away every other crutch we use to prop up our self worth. Submitting to perfect love means we lose ourselves in him. Are you ready for that kind of loss? Our pride, the shame to which we cling, and our insecurities all whisper, “Take Care! You can never return if you start down this road.”

And they are right.