students of jesus

A young girl named Mary told us what was coming. Jesus would specialize in turning things topsy-turvy:
“he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts;
he has brought down the mighty from their thrones
     and exalted those of humble estate;
he has filled the hungry with good things,
    and the rich he has sent away empty.”
We rejoice as the scene is played out again and again: Jesus lifts an adulterous woman up from the dust after her accusers have been silenced; Jesus shuts the mouths of the lawyers and scribes by asking them questions they cannot answer; Jesus screams “Woe to you” seven times at the those who think they have special insight into the ways of God.

Mary’s song is true today as well.

We love Jesus because he can stick it to the Man. He is the Icon of the Father and iconoclast of the fat cats. We see in him an ancient model of our modern selves. Deep inside we knew the Establishment types were just gaming the system and using religion to prop themselves up and keep the rest of us down. This is the kick-ass Jesus who has finally exposed all the posers and fakes in the church, the Jesus who is even now leading the charge down the aisle, away from the altar, and out the red double-doors. The Jesus who has finally confirmed all our judgments about the hypocrites and losers who populate organized religion. Jesus the hipster is turning over the tables in God’s house again. Finally, a Jesus who will tell those guys off.

Or, is it possible we’ve once again created him in our own image? Again. Mary’s song is true today as well, but perhaps the rolls have been reframed.

In modern society we love to point out that Jesus ate with tax collectors and prostitutes. He crossed social boundaries. He was the friend of sinners. Sometimes we fail to note there is another group with whom he regularly dined: pharisees. What if Jesus reclined with pharisees for the very same reason he ate with the outcasts? What if he had the same mission whether he ate with Zacchaeus the taxman or with Simon the Pharisee? What if he cared for both? Perhaps the Lord knew we were all sick, all in need of a doctor.

Reading our rebellious ways into the ministry of Jesus is one of the dangers of our present age. We might assume he converted every sinner and condemned every priest. We might assume he ditched the synagogue for a day at the lake, or went to the Temple only to turn the tables. We might be surprised to discover that he loved his Father’s house, or considered the Law as sweet as honey, or longed to hear the prophets read week after week.

The same man who welcomed Matthew the tax collector was also friends with Nicodemus and Joseph of Arimathea. The same man who healed and returned lepers to the community of Israel also had mercy on the daughter of a synagogue leader. The shepherd of Israel cared for the whole flock and fed all the sheep. Later, he went so far as to chase down Saul, that murderous “pharisee of pharisees” and drafted him into the Kingdom cause.

If we choose to follow the Master we must be prepared to follow him into any house. In his day the disciples were shocked because he crossed the threshold of a sinner’s home. Perhaps today he shocks us by crossing the threshold of the church? Both houses stand in desperate need of his grace, and those who will carry such grace with them.

“I  tell you the truth, unless a kernel of wheat is planted in the soil and dies, it remains alone.  But its death will produce many new kernels — a plentiful harvest of new lives.” ~ John 12:24

This day -- between death and resurrection -- we find ourselves living in the middle of the greatest parable ever told.  It was not told with words.   It was enacted by the very Word Itself.

Saturday.  We are born of an imperishable seed, but beloved, it does not yet appear what we will be.  The seed will burst forth.

When was the last time your day was interrupted by impossibly good news? We suffer interruptions all the time. We plan our day and set our tasks, then the interruptions come along one after another. Yet some interruptions are a good thing: Luke 24 reminds us that when we least expect it, Jesus himself would like to break in.

You know the story. Two guys, despondent over the death of Jesus, make the long walk from Jerusalem to Emmaus. They are leaving the city. Worse: they are leaving their dreams as well. They had dared to place their hope in someone else, and those hopes have been crushed. They were returning to the routine and the mundane, each convinced that they should never let their hearts get carried away again. The road from Jerusalem to Emmaus is downhill. It’s not a difficult walk, but then, the pathway to despair and broken dreams is always downhill.

Amazingly, Jesus joined them on that path. Even though they were headed the wrong direction, away from the glory and majesty of death’s defeat, Jesus sought them out. They expected to walk alone, but the Father wasn’t about to leave them trapped in despair, so he sent them a Perfect Stranger. They didn’t recognize him, perhaps because when we are caught up in our own disappointment nothing ever looks right.

The Stranger began to interact with them, asking what they considered to be stupid questions. They were astonished to think anyone could have missed the significance of the events in Jerusalem. They thought they knew the score when in fact they were the ones who were clueless. They had even heard rumors too good to be true, and because those rumors were impossibly good news, they had chosen to head back to their old life.

Even though they had given up, Jesus had not. They were strangers to hope, but their fellow-traveler began to explain the truth. Gradually the road began to level out, and their hearts began to burn. Finally, as they reached their destination, they made an important decision. Despite their own sadness and disappointment, they invited the Stranger to share a meal. They welcomed the interruption. They welcomed the Stranger.

You know the rest: Jesus reveals himself. They are amazed. They recognize the old burning in their hearts, and they head back to Jerusalem to deliver impossible, ridiculously good news. They had walked slowly down the Way of Despair; now they raced up Burning Heart Road.

Luke’s resurrection story is a parable as well. A burning heart comes only by walking with Jesus—or rather, by inviting him to walk with you. The good news was hidden inside an interruption. The miracle came when they chose to show hospitality, and when they finally recognized him they realized their true destination.

The Great Interruption comes to us when our eyes are set low on the down-hill path before us. Jesus caught up with them in their retreat. He does the same for us, but we must welcome the stranger who seems so clueless about or sorrow and disillusionment.

How will Jesus interrupt your day? You won’t know it until after you welcome the interruption.

My children have eaten their fill every day of their lives. They’ve never missed a meal, never gone to bed hungry. So last week, when I quoted Psalm 37:25 on Twitter and Facebook, (“I have been young, and now am old; yet have I not seen the righteous forsaken, nor his seed begging bread”) it was an act of praise and thanksgiving.

Then I received a private note from a friend in Africa. “I have seen righteous men and their children begging. What do I do with that?” I know his voice. There was no argument in his observation. He was not trying to one-up me or pick a fight. There was nothing public in his response. His question was genuine.

My friend is no stranger to sorrow. Nor is he a stranger to success. He is a quiet example of service and devotion. His name is known in Heaven, even if it rarely rates a mention on earth. He is a man of compassion: there are seasons in which he finds no soul-rest over the tension between the goodness of God and the sorrow of human life. His is a life of honest lament, heartfelt empathy, and devotion to Jesus that most of us would envy.

His question is almost never asked in Christian circles: What do you do when your personal experience flies in the face of the Biblical testimony?

His question is not academic. He has no interest in a philosophical discussion about God’s goodness and power, or about the existence of evil. He trusts the Father, he listens to the voice of God, and orders his life around Jesus and his kingdom. Yet he has held dying children in his arms, and seen the damage done to fathers and mothers who cannot provide for the ones they love. He has also heard shallow praise born of thoughtless prosperity and listened to wiki-Christian answers incapable of lasting the night.

In this holy week, are we willing to give ourselves to a dangerous meditation? What do you do when your personal experience flies in the face of the Biblical testimony? Do you demand an accounting from God? Do you deny the truth of what you have seen and experienced? Do you push the tension away and focus instead only on the good?

But what if the good comes with heartfelt pain? What if the good means feeling forsaken? What if the good leads us to the cross?

The very place where there are no answers is one place where we can expect to find Jesus himself. If we refuse to settle for easy answers that cost us nothing, if we refuse to settle for religious activity as a substitute for the presence of God, it will simply be enough that he is there.