students of jesus

Today's guest post comes from Aaron McCarter, pastor of the Vineyard in Maryville, TN. Aaron has been my pal for a number of years. He has an easy-going style: you find yourself at ease immediately. He's very likable. All of these qualities merely draw you in until you realize you're in the presence of a disciple of the King--the kind of person who will not settle for anything less than God's best in your life, or his. He and his wife, Sharon have two kids. He blogs here, tweets here, and follows Jesus pretty much everywhere. 

“For the Kingdom of Heaven is like a householder who went out early in the morning to hire laborers for his vineyard.  After agreeing with the laborers for a denarius a day, he sent them into his vineyard.  And going out about the third hour he saw others standing idle in the marketplace; and to them he said; ‘You, go into the vineyard too, and whatever is right I will give you.’ So they went.  Going out again about the sixth hour and the ninth hour, he did the same.  And about the eleventh hour he went out and found others standing; and he said to them, ‘Why do you stand here idle all day?’  They said to him, ‘because no one has hired us.’  He said to them, ‘You go into the vineyard, too.’  And when evening came, the owner of the vineyard said to his steward, ‘Call the laborers, and pay them their wages, beginning with the last, up to the first.’  And when those hired about the eleventh hour came, each of them received a denarius.  Now when the first came, they thought they would receive more; but each of them also received a denarius.  And on receiving it they grumbled at the householder, saying, ‘These last worked only one hour, and you have made them equal to us who have borne the burden of the day, and the scorching heat.’  But he replied to one of them, ‘Friend I am doing you no wrong; did you not agree with me for a denarius?’  Take what belongs to you and go; I choose to give to this last as I give to you.  Am I not allowed to do what I choose with what belongs to me?  Or do you begrudge my generosity?’  So the last will be first, and the first will be last. (Matthew 20:1-16)

The Parable of the Vineyard runs against the grain of the embedded American psyche, which shouts aloud: “Those who work the hardest, and the longest, earn the greatest reward.” It spits in the face of American capitalism: “What do you mean, ‘Equal pay for all?’ Commies!” 

After the owner of the Vineyard pays those workers who had been there all day they glare at him with their sunburned faces, straighten their sore backs so that they could look at him dead in the eye and--like all good Americans--they protest! “You have made them equal to us who have borne the burden of the day and the scorching heat!”

He reminds them that they were paid according to their agreement, and to the others he was simply being generous. “Do you begrudge my generosity?” You bet they do!

The way the men respond to what they are given has everything to do with what they believe they deserve.Those who are met at the back of the line are ecstatic.; those who waited at the front of the line are furious. 

This parable tells us a lot about the way we view ourselves...about where we see ourselves in the line. If we saw ourselves as the late-coming wretch who gets more than he ever earned, then this parable wouldn’t leave us with such a bad taste in our mouths. The story sounds a lot different from the end of the line than it does from the front.  

How often do you see yourself as the one who got the short end of the stick?  As the one who came early and stayed late just for good measure, but still get the same pay as the slouch who didn’t even bother to get out of bed until after lunch?  

But it’s entirely possible we are mistaken about where we are in line. In fact, there are all kinds of people ahead of us, people who are far more deserving of God’s love than we’ll ever be. Maybe that’s the case, and maybe it isn’t. But suppose for a moment that it’s you stuck in the back of the line, craning your neck to get just a view of how far line extends ahead of you. 

This parable reminds us that life just isn’t fair. And we cringe because it points to the notion that God isn’t fair either. Life isn’t fair, which makes it all the more important that God is. It's especially important in an unjust world that God should be the one authority who plays by the rules—

• who sees to it that people get what they deserve
• who keeps track of how long and how hard we've worked
• who sees to it that people don’t cut line, and everyone gets exactly what they earned. 

Life may not be fair, but we think God certainly should be.

But God isn’t fair. For some reason beyond our comprehension, he loves us indiscriminately. For reasons we can’t understand He reverses the order of the line.  

If God’s not fair, then there’s a chance that we will get paid more than we are worth; we will be given more than we have earned; we won’t be judged based on our own merit. If God isn’t fair it means he orchestrated the greatest injustice in the history of the world by sending his son to be killed by the very people he had come to save.

God isn’t fair: he’s generous. And if we ever begrudge that generosity we likely have forgotten what a privilege it is to labor in the vineyard, what an honor it is to work on behalf of the vineyard keeper, and there’s are real chance that we’ve forgotten, were it not for God’s grace, where we stand in line.

When I took Systematic Theology in graduate school Devlin Lucent was the best student in the class by far. Devlin knew all the answers. He never lost his cool. He was ridiculously good-looking. Sometimes he asked the professor questions so clever the professor would start to answer, stop, and then say, “That’s a very interesting question, Devlin. Class, what do you think?”

One day I had to know why Devlin even bothered with this class. I caught up with him on the quad.

“Hey, why do you ask such impossible questions?”

“Just playing devil’s advocate,” he said. “Dr. Hallow is on the right track, but he hasn’t taken it far enough.”

“Sounds like maybe you should teach.”

“I will,” said Devlin. “But the world only respects diplomas and degrees, so here I am.”

The whole semester went on like this. Devlin knew the correct answers in every category: sin, Trinity, covenant, you-name-it: this guy was as smart as they came.

And talented, too. When he led worship people raved about the music. He had no trouble finding dates: it seemed like a third of the girls in the school were lined up for him. (I noticed, however, that a few of the girls he went out with ended up dropping out of school.)

One night I had a dream:

Devlin was at a nearby bistro enjoying a glass of wine and the admiration of a table full of other students. He saw me through the music and the haze of those who pretend to smoke cigarettes.

“Grimsley!” He gestured. “Just the man! Get over here.”

I had to admit it was something of a thrill to be publicly recognized by the coolest guy in seminary. I pulled over a chair and wedged into the crowd.

“We were just discussing our take-over of the school,” said Lucent. I laughed, but the rest of them turned their attention back to Devlin. “No, really: those stodgy fools have no business running the place. Even when they’re correct they’re hopelessly lost in applying the answers. They’re driving students away and holding the rest of us back. Are you in?”

“This seems rather sudden, eh?” I tried to ask.

“Nothing sudden about that lame seminary. They’ve been screwing people up for decades.” No one interrupted Devlin. They focused on him with devotion usually reserved for rock stars or saints. He loved it. He didn’t need my buy-in: “I can see you’re holding back. No matter--I may still let you attend after I’m in charge.”

The next morning it was Devlin who caught up with me on the frosty quad.

“Good morning, Grims. Sleep well last night?”

“Well enough,” I said. In the morning light he didn’t look so menacing.

“I like to give people a little time to adjust to progressive ideas,” he said. “You should think about my offer.”

My heart stopped at the same time as my feet. “Your offer?”

“Surely you didn’t think that because it was a dream I wasn’t serious?”

“Wait--how did you--was I really talking to you, then? In my dream?”

“Don’t concern yourself with details, Grimsley. Just because it was a dream doesn’t mean it wasn’t real. What? Confused? You should’ve studied the Old Testament harder. It’s not so strange.”

What was strange was the winterlight behind him. His head was rimmed with light but I looked through the shadow to his face. His good looks vanished. The features were the same but they had distorted into pride and lust and anger. What had been appealing became grotesque. He saw what I had seen, and it somehow amused him.

“What now? You’re thinking how a good student like me would want to rebel? Grow up, man: my theology is perfect,” and here he leaned toward me until I smelled the breath of death itself. “It’s not enough. I won’t stop until I’m in charge.”

In that moment my alarm sounded. I was utterly confused. I had already awakened, or so I thought. Last night’s dream was the dream--or was it a dream within a dream? I was truly afraid, but the student in me still got the point. I fumbled for the notebook next to my Bible. My shaking hand managed to scrawl the awful truth:

The devil's theology is just fine. The problem is he wants his own way.

“Blessed are you, Simon Bar Jonah, for this was revealed to you not by man, but by my Father in Heaven.” (Matthew 16:17) With these words Jesus confirmed his identity as the anointed One, the Messiah and Christ.

Simon Peter had correctly answered Jesus’ question, “Who do you say I am?” Jesus declared that Peter’s answer came not by human reasoning but by direct revelation from God Himself. What I find challenging are two specific verses that come just after this high point of revelation.

Verse 21: “From that time on Jesus began to explain to his disciples that he must go to Jerusalem and suffer many things at the hands of the elders, chief priests and teachers of the law, and that he must be killed and on the third day be raised to life.” Even though the disciples had received revelation of Jesus’ divine identity, there was still more to be explained. The revelation brought them to a place unattainable by human wisdom, but Jesus had more to say, more to teach. Revelation, by itself, was not enough—they needed Jesus to explain what it meant in practical terms. I believe the Father still provides moments of divine revelation today, but just like that day at Caesarea Philippi, we need the revelation explained. Our own understanding is never enough.

Verse 24: “Then Jesus said to his disciples, "If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow me.” Jesus had even more to say to the disciples. After they recovered from the shock of what the Christ would suffer, Jesus explained they, too, had a destiny that involved the cross. Like Jesus, the disciples would have to choose to take up the cross and follow him. If revelation needs explanation, then after the explanation we must respond: am I “in,” or out? God’s revelation is not FYI. It demands a response from us.

My prayer this week: Father, beyond revelation, please give me the grace to seek your insight, and to respond with my whole heart, Amen.

Today's guest post comes from my new cyber-friend, Travis Kolder. He's a follower of Jesus, a husband and father to a growing tribe of Kolders, an organic church planter, and a writer.  Travis currently serves with an "amazingly gifted" group of believers who are corporately known as the Cedar Rapids House Church Network. You should check out his blog, Pursuing Glory, or catch his tweets.

I have this theory that different types of Christians like different sets of parables. Truly evangelical believers love the parables of Matthew 13.  End time-focused believers love the parables of Matthew 24 and 25. The list can go on. I suppose you should expect this because each segment of Christians you meet are called by God to manifest a different aspect of Christ.

I have this other theory that a parable in Luke 14 is one of the forgotten parables of Jesus.

It’s sad to me though, because this parable gives one of the most practical instructions on how to manage yourself with humility in a gathering you’ve been invited to.  (I think it’s important to note that I believe Jesus would teach something very different if He were teaching you how to host a gathering.  Don’t apply Jesus’ lesson on being a guest to the idea of leading or hosting.)  Over and over I see believers not put this wisdom into practice.

Below you’ll find the parable in it’s entirety.  It’s better if you read it and apply it to your own life.  But this time, read the parable as if Jesus meant you to apply this idea in any event you’ve been invited into.  How would it change how you act?

And He began speaking a parable to the invited guests when He noticed how they had been picking out the places of honor at the table, saying to them,

When you are invited by someone to a wedding feast, do not take the place of honor, for someone more distinguished than you may have been invited by him,

and he who invited you both will come and say to you, ‘Give your place to this man,’ and then in disgrace you proceed to occupy the last place.

But when you are invited, go and recline at the last place, so that when the one who has invited you comes, he may say to you, ‘Friend, move up higher’; then you will have honor in the sight of all who are at the table with you.

For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and he who humbles himself will be exalted.

Now that you’ve read the parable, where does it apply to your life?  Are there other places (i.e. like when you’re hosting or leading) where this wisdom won’t work?

Recently I saw this post on a blog: “The Apostle Paul was never a member of one church and one church only.” Other people who posted comments quickly agreed with the statement. Both the author and those who agreed had it exactly wrong.

I know: "wrong" is an offensive word these days; it is a word used only by misguided traditionalists. It is the bane of Spiritual Progressives. But if I am headed in the wrong direction--toward danger--the most progressive thing I can do is turn around and head back until I find the right path again.

Here’s a cultural truth: we bring to our reading of scripture whatever values we currently hold. Our eyes and hearts are sensitized to recognize the things we already agree with, and to ignore those things which run counter to our convictions.

When God graciously saves us he also has a plan to plant and nurture us. The Father isn't in favor of theoretical family, he creates actual families of faith. Part of the yoke Jesus offers is our continued association with other believers. This association is more than friendship—it is a calling to become part of the people of God. Let’s allow Paul and his life speak to us today. Here are at least four lessons we should learn from him:

(1) Antioch - Paul’s Church Home:
The first three verses of Acts chapter 13 are clear beyond any cultural leanings—Paul and Barnabas were fully invested in the body of believers at Antioch. The church in Antioch was a remarkable multi-ethnic community that embodied the gospel of the Kingdom of God.

Paul and Barnabas were a part of a leadership team who heard the voice of the Spirit together and--even after hearing--prayed and fasted together before ordaining two of their own to mission the “mission field.” Then, to drive the point home, the Scripture reports that at the end of this journey Paul and Barnabas returned to their home church and gave a report of what God had done (Acts 14: 26-28).

(2) The local church is the wellspring of ministry:
In the 15 years I was a pastor I would occasionally meet a new guy at church. “I need a ‘covering’ for my ministry,” he would say: “Will your church be my covering?” My response was usually something like “Yes! We’re all about releasing people into their calling and ministry. Why don’t you hang out with us for six months or so and we’ll consider laying our hands on you and affirming God’s call on your life.” It would usually only take about two weeks, and that guy would leave!

Is six months too long to get to know someone and—together—to affirm God’s calling on someone? How about ten-to-fourteen years? Depending on how you read Galatians, Paul indicates that he was a part of his local church for a considerable length of time. Take just a moment and compare Acts 11:19-26 with Galatians 1:11-2:5. These two passages show a man possessed by the sovereign call of God, who displayed radical obedience to the voice of the Spirit, and still respected the local church. God’s call, God’s gifting, even obedience to our destiny in God are all worked out in the local church.

(3) The Gospel wasn’t enough: Paul planted churches:
It’s true that the Apostle Paul had a unique and powerful ministry on the road. It is also true that he did more than “preach the gospel.” The record of the book of Acts and the epistles is that he planted churches. Everywhere he went, he shared the good news of Jesus--and--established bodies of believers to provide a context for living out the gospel. Each of his letters testifies to this second fact—establishing churches. Even the letters to Timothy and Titus are about corporate church life. That leaves only the letter to Philemon, which was likely read out loud in front of Philemon’s home church.

(4) Paul had a high view of the church--the LOCAL church.
Paul felt the weight of every church he started. He knew he would give an account to God for his work. He never gave up on the church--even when there was plenty of reason to do so. The passages in his letters are too many and too varied to list here (and I have no interest in proof-texting), but the weight of evidence is overwhelming: Paul knew that the local church was God’s plan for every community in which he preached the gospel. He entrusted churches to Timothy and Titus; he pleaded with the Corinthians to come to their senses; he agonized over the health of the church in Thessalonica; he knew that the path to individual maturity was found in community. Structured, organized, accountable, loving, Spirit-breathed, grace-filled community. Paul presented many a picture of a glorious, eternal church. He also poured every ounce of his ministry into non-glorious, sinful, people-filled, local churches. There was no separating the two.

If we have lost this connection to the role local church, we have lost our way.

Part of Spirit-led Bible study is to ask for the grace to open our hearts to His value system, not ours. And in North America we should be on guard against Biblical interpretations that simply affirm our biases. It is deeply ingrained in our culture: "be yourself." Isn't it shocking that we cannot become ourselves apart from the family of God?