students of jesus

Life in Christ is constant transformation. Because we follow an infinite Lord, our possibilities are infinite as well. Becoming a follower of Jesus should bring three transformations: we are be born from above; we can acquire his character; and we can imitate his works. Most believers North America have some grasp on the first, a hope of the second, and almost no concept of the third.

The gospel stories reveal a ragtag group of Jesus-followers beset with infighting and petty pride. Yet as Jesus prepared to leave he charged these struggling men with the impossible. 

“I tell you the truth, anyone who has faith in me will do what I have been doing. He will do even greater things than these, because I am going to the Father. And I will do whatever you ask in my name, so that the Son may bring glory to the Father. You may ask me for anything in my name, and I will do it.” (John 14: 12-14)

The first disciples demonstrated they were up to the task—not because they had their act together, but because the life of Jesus had been planted in them as an imperishable seed. The seed would grow within them:

1). The first disciples found themselves transformed by the new birth. They really were a new creation. Heaven’s DNA had altered their very being. Formerly timid, self-absorbed, working-class men threatened the Roman Empire just as their Master had done. If we have the family DNA, where is the family resemblance? Modern Christians are troubled by their past, troubled by their sin, and troubled by their future. They’ve experienced little or no change. But if the power of God can assure our eternal destiny, shouldn’t it be able to impact our thoughts and actions here and now? That was the record of the early church.

2). The first disciples found themselves transformed in character. They demonstrated the character of Christ to a degree not possible by their own good intentions or human effort. In our day, we are tempted to think we should “act better” because we are Christians. It’s a trap: we will only “act better” as long as our will power holds up--just ask anyone who has every started a diet! Eventually our mere willpower will fail us even as it failed the disciples the night Jesus was arrested. True character change flows from the new birth the way spring water flows from the source. The transformation of new birth finds its way into our character by the hunger and thirst for the stuff of heaven. A newborn child without hunger or thirst is desperately ill: why should it be any different in our life with Christ? 

3). The first disciples found themselves transformed by power for ministry. The first followers of Jesus were startlingly like Jesus, in thought, word and deed. Ordinary people declared the message of the Kingdom of God (as Jesus had done) and demonstrated the coming of that Kingdom with powerful actions--just as Jesus had done. By the Holy Spirit the first believers discovered a transformation from the impossibilities of the flesh to the possibilities of heaven. What does it mean to do the works of Jesus? How we answer the question reveals our understanding of what it means to live “in Christ.” In his day, Jesus had a high view of his followers. He believed in them more than they believed in themselves. It’s still his day if we will let him have his way.

The first disciples were up to the task. In the intervening centuries the people of God have sometimes lived up to the charge left by our Lord, and sometimes have exchanged heavenly tasks into something attainable by human effort. Every generation must wrestle with the challenge Jesus left us. The first disciples were up to the task. The question is whether we are up to the task as well.

Once there was a man who lived a life guided by a checklist. He did not always fulfill each item each day, but each and every day the checklist was his guide. All day long, eyes down, he navigated his life according to the inspired advice on the list. The man gained great wealth, and even some reputation among the people of his town, but at the end of his life he was no wiser than at the beginning, because the checklist was not enough. The checklist was his only friend, and he died alone.

Is there anything more handy than a checklist?

The original checklist was ten items long. Eventually it grew to 613. No checklist provides the desires of our hearts, but we cling to our checklists because we like to think they hold the secrets of life itself. We refine the lists, prioritize the lists, interpret our lists, and look down on other people’s lists. We claim to have special insight into the most important items on the list.

Whether God’s Old People or New, it’s so much easier for us to keep our eyes on the clipboard. Give to the poor? Check. Relax one day a week? Check. Sacrifice? Pray? Memorize? Check. Check. Check. The checkmarks fall into a neat line from top to bottom. We start a new page each day. We smile at the winning streaks we piece together, unaware we have won the wrong game.

We like checklists because is it easier to relate to a book of rules than to relate to a living person. Checklists are unchanging and accessible. People are filled with mystery. Checklists are clear and unequivocal. Checklists make plain statements and tell us what to do. People—even perfect people—present nonverbal hints and clues. People are hard to read, but they yield rewards we have never imagined. If we successfully keep a checklist, we have ourselves to thank. If we get to know a person, we discover a world beyond ourselves.

A question, what if we live our lives according the the master checklist, but never meet the Master himself?

When I was a boy Josué De La Cruz saved my life. My third-floor apartment on the northwest side of Chicago was fully involved in flames. The Latino firefighter crawled up the steps, beneath the smoke, through the fire, and carried me to safety. I wouldn’t be alive today if not for him.

He visited me in the hospital the next day. I thanked him for his courage and sacrifice. He told me he was happy to make a difference. We chatted for a while. His Spanish accent reminded me that he was from a completely different culture than mine. It was hard to understand him sometimes, but I was grateful. I fell asleep and he was gone.

My family found a new place to live, grateful to be alive. We forgot about Josué. Eventually school took all my attention and life returned to normal. I was surprised five years later when Josué turned up at my college dorm one night. I was coming back to the dorm very late--trying not to attract the attention of the Resident Assistant.

“Man,” he said with that accent. “You know it’s really dangerous to drive home in your condition. You should be more careful.”

I was embarrassed. “Yeah, I guess so.” I shoved my hand forward to shake his. “Hey man, thanks for pulling me out of that fire back then.”

“No problem--that’s over. Listen, I brought you some money for textbooks. Take care for yourself.”

It was strange, him showing up that night. I really wasn’t thinking straight. When I woke up the next morning it was hard to tell where the night had ended and where my dreams began. But I did have $100 in the pocket of my jeans.

I was nearly thirty when he turned up again. I’d been married for seven years. My wife and I had one kid and another of the way. I had taken a job working for her father. It wasn’t the life I wanted but with another kid on the way paying the bills was a big deal. Still, the job sucked and I wasn’t happy. I came home from work and there was Josué, the firefighter who had saved my life, sitting on my front step, petting the family dog.

“Dude, what are you doing here?”

“Amigo, it’s so good to see you again. I just wanted you to know I was thinking about you.”

That seemed really strange to hear. All I could manage was an awkward “Thanks.”

“You know,” he said, looking up  from the dog. “You ought to cut your wife a little slack. It isn’t easy raising one kid while she’s baking another.”

“Well my job ain’t so hot either. Did you want something?” I asked.

He ignored the question. “I could help you with that if you want.”

I laughed. “Thanks. I’m a little old for the Fire Academy, don’t you think?” I  stepped past him an went to the door. “Thanks for stopping by, though.” Later I found a gift card to Applebee’s right where he had been sitting. There was a post-it note where he had scribbled, Take your wife out to dinner tonight.
I don’t know: maybe Josué had moved into my neighborhood because he began to pop up at the most random times and places. It began to get a little creepy. One time he was in the booth behind me and my friend at the pancake house.

“Hey man,” he said. “Have you been putting on some weight?”

“Maybe. You still look pretty fit.” It was true, I had to admit it.

“I’m not trying to bust your hump,” he said. “I just want to see you stay healthy and live well.”
I didn’t feel scolded. Especially because he waited for my buddy to hit the restroom before he spoke to me.

“Yeah. Thanks. I’ll work on that.” When my friend and I left we found that Josué had already paid the tab. It went on like this for the next few years. Josué would turn up, offer his opinion on something or other, and always do something nice for me.

Then one afternoon he was outside my workplace. I had bolted from working for my father-in-law, but three jobs later I was going nowhere fast. Life sucked. My wife and kids were strangers to me, and I was thinking of getting in the car and just driving.

“My friend,” Josué said gently. “Don’t do this thing.”

I was startled. “What thing?”

“Times are tough,” he said. “I get it. Let me help you learn how to live.”

Finally I’d had enough of these strange appearances. “Listen, Josué. It’s been twenty years since you saved me from the fire. What gives you the right to show up and tell me what to do?”

“What good was saving your life if you don’t know how to live it?” he answered. “I went into your apartment that day to change your life, not just save it.”

“Really?” I demanded. “Well, I needed someone to save me--not someone to run my life. What gives you the right?”

“I am Josué De La Cruz.” He stood tall and his voice swelled with strength. And as he said the words he began to change: his face and clothes became white--dazzling beyond any brightness on Earth.
I shielded my eyes and heard thunder from the cloudless sky. In the thunder I thought I heard a voice. “This is my son. Listen to him!” Then, in a moment the day returned, and the sunshine seemed less bright. Josué put his arm on my shoulder and said, “Come to me. Get away with me and you'll recover your life. I'll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. That’s why I saved you that day.”

EDITOR'S NOTE: Next month I will release an eBook of short-short stories. This is a sample. Stay tuned.