students of jesus

In a dream I traveled with the Apostle Paul. I joined him one morning and we walked a dirt road to some town not mentioned among the epistles.

I had so many questions for him: What did he mean by “work out your salvation in fear and trembling?” Why did he still bother with those crazy people in Corinth? How could he and Barnabas have decided to go their separate ways when it was so clear they complimented each other perfectly? My list was endless; his patience was not.

Our destination was too far for a single day’s walk, so we made camp by a stream just off the road. We gathered sticks for a small fire against the coming cool of the evening. We ate day-old bread and dried beef, and found some figs nearby.

In the last light of day Paul walked down to the stream to wash. He removed his outer garment and stepped into the current knee deep. Through the twilight I looked at his bare back. It was criss-crossed with scars from the Roman lash. His flesh had healed again and again, new skin pale and tender stretched over the old wounds. His wrists bore the marks of manacles harshly tightened from the nights he had spent chained to prison walls.

I had not noticed it until the slanting shadows and light bathed his body: the back of his bald skull was not smooth like other men’s, it was dented from the stones thrown by angry mobs. The back of his legs were still strong from a life of constant travel, his calves lean and tight just above the place where he had been chained to Roman soldiers, who had been sent in shifts during his house arrests.

His body was a map of the way of suffering, an indicator of how this man had fulfilled whatever was lacking in our Lord’s afflictions.

I didn’t realize I had been staring. He turned from the stream and noticed my gaze. He walked to his bedroll and pulled his tunic back over his head.

“Good night, disciple.” he said. “Are you still sure you want to be a servant of Christ?”

He turned over and fell asleep, and in that moment I awoke.

Bill Johnson of Bethel Church in Redding, California suggests that like, children, we are invited into the joy of discovery:

The disciples came to him and asked, “Why do you speak to the people in parables?”
He replied, “Because the knowledge of the secrets of the kingdom of heaven has been given to you, but not to them. Whoever has will be given more, and they will have an abundance. Whoever does not have, even what they have will be taken from them. This is why I speak to them in parables:

   “Though seeing, they do not see; 
though hearing, they do not hear or understand.

In them is fulfilled the prophecy of Isaiah:

   “‘You will be ever hearing but never understanding; you will be ever seeing but never perceiving. 
For this people’s heart has become calloused; they hardly hear with their ears, 
and they have closed their eyes. 
Otherwise they might see with their eyes, 
hear with their ears, 
understand with their hearts 
and turn, and I would heal them."

But blessed are your eyes because they see, and your ears because they hear. For truly I tell you, many prophets and righteous people longed to see what you see but did not see it, and to hear what you hear but did not hear it. (Matthew 13: 10-17)

Spiritual transformation begins with relationship, and all true relationship carries the power to transform us at the deepest level.

Wouldn’t it be a shame to be married for a lifetime and not be changed by the process of sharing life together? Or raise children for twenty years, yet fail to grow in patience, grace, and kindness? Our most important and personal relationships touch us deeply. We find ourselves transformed into different people. The rough edges rounded and the abrasive surfaces rubbed smooth. We become changed into our true selves.

Do we have a relationship with Jesus, or merely a forgiveness arrangement? For many believers he’s the one who paid the price for our sin, paved the way to eternal life--and the one who left the planet a long time ago. The average believer in North America knows how to appropriate the legal exercise of God’s forgiveness, but has no real expectation of becoming “conformed to the image of Christ.” (Romans 8: 29) Wouldn’t it be terrible to be forever forgiven, but always unable to change?

I’d like to suggest three earth-bound agents of change God can also use in our spiritual lives. In marriage, family and friendships we find ourselves transformed by love, commitment, and constancy. These three pillars of human relationship can also become the means by which the Holy Spirit works in our lives.

Love

The reason I am less of a jerk after twenty-six years of marriage is simple: I love my wife. When I act selfishly toward my wife, she pays the price, and I witness first-hand the grief I caused. Because I love her I determine to do better. To be better. To think of her before I think of me. I’m still a selfish man, but I am less selfish after twenty-six years of trial and error. A marriage which does not impact our personality is no marriage at all.

The same can be true of my relationship with Christ. If Jesus is simply the Divine Defense Attorney who rescues me from hell, he has no claim on my life. If, however, Jesus is the passionate love of my life, I will joyfully conform my actions to whatever gives him joy. It’s about pleasing my beloved. Of course, the first question is--do I love him, or do I merely want to use his sacrifice?

Commitment

Insanity is hereditary--you get it from your kids! How many times in one day can a two year-old push your buttons? Why don’t we just walk that toddler to the front door and say, “That’s it, pal. I’ve had enough. You’re on your own!” Raising children comes with a twenty-year commitment to the unknown. We stick with our children even when they drive us crazy. We continue to pour our lives into them even when they are ungrateful and egocentric. Commitment stands firm even when love wants to run and cry

If we learn commitment from raising our children, how much more will commitment serve us as a means of grace with God? Even when we feel He may be against us, commitment can hold us firm. Of course, the Almighty is no petulant child, but there are certainly times when we do not understand his actions. His commandments can run counter to our desires, but our commitment can steady us until we come to our senses again and see his wisdom. That commitment can also strengthen our resolve to order our lives around his priorities.

Constancy

Life is so daily. We do the laundry this week, knowing we will do it again next week. Repetitive tasks threaten to overwhelm the beauty of life. Yet those who neglect the everyday matters are regarded as immature and irresponsible. The constant parade of days and weeks, months and years builds faithfulness into our souls.

Are we like Tolkien’s hobbits, whose quiet little folk demonstrated unseen reserves of strength? What if the everyday-ness of life reveals something of God’s grandeur? Our resolve to listen for his voice in the mundane, to sense his presence in the quiet of the house, to discover his faithfulness reflected in our meager faithful tasks can open us up to change at the deepest level. What if we are the hobbits of his kingdom?

The real question is whether our relationship with Jesus rises to the level of our most cherished human relationships. No one should settle for marriage, family, or friendship without significance. Why should we settle for less with the Lord of Glory?

You’ve already doing it, usually unaware. But now: take a breath. Breathe deep.

Again. This time feel the air circulate through your nose; feel your chest swell, and instead of expelling the air with force, allow it to find its way out.

The air we breathe reaches the smallest parts of our body--nothing is ignored. The air we breathe will clean our blood and strengthen every cell. The air we breathe is the grace of God.

The great sky is more than a home for the clouds--the heavens themselves reach down to us all. From around us to inside us, from our lungs to every part of our souls, his grace is reaching you and me. His grace surrounds us and flows through us. We cannot live for more than a moment without it.

The reality of grace is all around us: every breath a parable, every moment sustained by him. Sitting alone or on the subway, we can draw the lessons of Grace.

Ubiquitous grace: We have all received his grace. Sinner or saint, unconscious or aware, asleep or awake, we have received. We receive now. We will receive. His grace is for everyone, foe or friend.

Unlimited supply: We cannot use it all, even if we try. We cannot use all the air in the room, much less the sky. Great clouds of grace sweep over the face the earth, bringing wave after wave of our greatest, most basic need. What we most need we can never expend. Nor does he chide or limit, ration or withhold. It is his joy to give.

A parable of love: The schoolchild learns that as we breathe our body benefits and thrives: from our lungs to our blood, from the blood to the cells, airy grace first delivers what we crave and carries away our most toxic waste. His grace brings us his life, and carries away our death.

Grace for all, because all have need: He is as close as our need: blowing, waiting, filling, cleansing, bearing away all that is ill and returning again and again afresh in a joyful cycle of life. All this when we breathe, whether we know it or not.

But it is always there for us to experience, if we just breathe.

Today's guest post comes from Dusty Snyder, a deep thinker with the heart of a poet. Dusty and his wife, Emily live and work on the campuses of two small liberal arts colleges.

Beheath his calm and reserved exterior you discover and engaging and lively intellect, playful and welcoming. You can follow him on Twitter, or travel to Central Kentucky and follow him for real.

Once there were two suitors. The first saw the woman he desired and purposed in his heart to win her affections, and he began to scheme. He knew one way he could be seen as a worthy suitor by the woman was if he rescued her from danger. So he set himself to observing the woman day and night, always from a distance, watching and waiting for his chance to swoop in and save the day. His efforts at chivalry quickly turned to frustration, because she was never in danger, so he came up with a new plan. Rather than waiting for danger to come to the woman he desired, he schemed to bring danger to her and then he would have his chance to save her.

So one night while she was safe asleep at home with her parents, the suitor came and lit fire to her house. Quickly the flames rose to consume the walls and the family was roused from their slumber. The suitor, seeing his opportunity rushed into the home ready to save his future bride. Successful in his attempt to save the desire of his heart and bring her safely outside, his plans quickly took a turn for the worse as the walls of her family home came crashing down with the rest of her family still trapped inside.

Now, the other suitor's story follows a much different path. When he discovers the woman he desires, he sets in his heart to win her affections with nobility and honor. While she was still far from him, he loved her in his heart and only had kind thoughts for her. He sought her affections with clear intentions and got to know her--and she also knew him. His love for her had no walls; he only desired the best for her, even to the point of being willing to lay down his life for her. His love won her over and she gave him her heart.