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 born from above; we acquire his character; and we 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 in at least three ways:

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? So many 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.

He’s gone from the American landscape now, but Walter White was a study in decline. From his first decision to cook methamphetamine, we watched the main character of Breaking Bad go from bad to worse. We saw in grim detail how a character flaw could destroy a man—and those around him.

In fiction, the saying goes, “plot is character” which means both heroes and villains take actions consistent with their personalities. Villains don’t become good for no reason at all; heroes act in a certain way because that’s who they are. Indeed, many of the best stories present characters with elements of good and bad; their actions reveal the conflicts within. We read novels or watch movies (at least good ones) because people are going through transformation. The true destination is the condition of their heart.

Who know that quality entertainment is really spiritual formation? “Character is plot; plot is character” means our choices flow out of who we are. And it’s not just entertainment—it’s the real-life challenge of Jesus. In the gospels we see Jesus acting in ways consistent with his personality. When he shows mercy to a sinner but condemns a Pharisee, both actions reveal something of his person, his character. In fact, sometimes we can’t quite figure him out because is character is so complex. He’s hard to figure even though we have a deep-down sense that he’s good, always good, always loving, always showing us the Father. The only way Jesus makes sense is if we know him well. Knowing about him isn’t enough; becoming his friend is the only way figure him out.

That’s one reason why, if we view him as an academic subject, Jesus is a study in contradictions. The sad truth is many scholars hardly know the man. Worse still, many of his “followers” hardly know him. Worst of all, his followers have little expectation that it’s possible to be like him. “Being like Jesus” is a noble idea, but hardly anyone carries the hope of a transformation so deep they’d be able to reflect his goodness or glory. And yet, this is the only kind of “knowing” capable of producing transformation. I can tell you where he was born, where he went, or I could tell you all about what he did—but none of that information produces deep change in me.

The popular wristband from years ago turned out to be no help at all: the only way to know What Would Jesus Do is to be the kind of person Jesus is. It turns out the gospel stories are far more challenging than the decline of Walter White. The human road downward is all too predictable; the road to glory comes as we try to become the same kind of person Jesus was (and is).

When a great story has a surprise ending we smile because it finally of makes sense. “Of course,” we say. “How could it have turned out any other way?” The surprise turns out to be the real thing—we just couldn’t see the possibility. We were into the story too deep to see it coming. There’s a surprise ending waiting for followers of Jesus. Our surprise ending is not the tired, worn-out preaching of Heaven’s pearly gates (true as it may be). We are not simply reading his story; it's our story as well. He wants to make us like himself. He offers a transformation truer than the movies, more grand than a great novel. Our surprising, delightful, and eternal ending is the joy of becoming conformed to his image. Will we sit on the couch and watch others, or climb through the screen (or climb into the book) and follow him?

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I once attended a meeting of pastors who were planning a “city-wide revival.” The pastor of a respected and growing church opened the meeting with these words: “God is only going to ask each of us two questions when we get to heaven: ’Do you know my Son?’ and ‘How many others did you bring with you?’” It was a memorable opening because it was short, dramatic, and wrong. The record of the first century church reveals a profound concern for a spiritual transformation that flows from a decision to follow Jesus.

The Apostle Paul prayed for the spiritual transformation of people who “already knew” Jesus. Perhaps we can discover God's transformational heart, as revealed in Paul’s prayer:

Since the day we heard about you, we have not stopped praying for you and asking God to fill you with the knowledge of his will through all spiritual wisdom and understanding. And we pray this in order that you may live a life worthy of the Lord and may please him in every way: bearing fruit in every good work, growing in the knowledge of God, being strengthened with all power according to his glorious might so that you may have great endurance and patience, and joyfully giving thanks to the Father, who has qualified you to share in the inheritance of the saints in the kingdom of light. For he has rescued us from the dominion of darkness and brought us into the kingdom of the Son he loves, in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins. (Colossians 1:9-14)

First, we need to be filled. Paul asked God to pour “the knowledge of his will” into the believers in Colosse. Apparently the next step after coming to Jesus as Lord is to be filled with the knowledge of his will. It requires something more than mere human intellect--it requires spiritual wisdom and understanding. We have a tendency to apply the old way of living life to our new life in Christ, but the problem is we were “born again” into a new kingdom. If we take the image of the new birth seriously we should realize there’s a whole new life ahead. This new life ahead requires something beyond our old resources.

Second, we can live a life “worthy of God.” Each of us has heard the message of forgiveness so often we are tempted to think forgiveness is all there is to the gospel. Some live in a continuing cycle of sin-forgiveness-sin, and consider it normative for God’s children. Paul knew better. He understood there is a proper response to God’s initial grace. That response is a changed life--a life “worthy of the Lord.” A life in which it is possible to please God, bear fruit, and grow in new life. These first two aspects of Paul’s inspired prayer are beyond the grasp of many believers.

Finally the kingdom of God is at hand--especially for those who know him: Paul prays that we would each receive our inheritance: ”the kingdom of light.” Jesus died to pay the price for our sin, and like everyone who dies, he left an inheritance to his family: a new kind of life. This new life looks dramatically different from the old kind of life. He described this life as “righteousness, peace, and joy in he Holy Spirit.” (Romans 14:17). Here’s a bell-weather question for each follower of Jesus--does my life differ dramatically from my old kind of life? The inbreaking of God’s kingdom floods our lives with light, and light is necessary if we are going to move through this new kind of Kingdom-life. Paul envisioned a church filled with individuals able to receive the Kingdom-life God offers to everyone born from above.

Paul’s prayer was not for the Colossians alone: can you hear him praying over you now?

It’s a heckuva way to run a railroad, and in my frustration I’ve asked the Almighty more than once, “If you want something done right, Lord, why don’t you do it yourself?”

Here is God’s way: he prefers to use flawed people to accomplish his purposes. Although he has power to act on his own, he uses the breath of his Spirit instead of the might of his hand. In fact, the words of the “Great Commission” are so commonplace among us we miss the surprising revelation of how God chooses to work:

“All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Therefore you go and make disciples of all nations . . . “

Why didn’t someone like Peter speak up and say, “Lord you have all the power and all the authority—why do you need us?”

The answer, of course, is not that God has need of us, but we have a desperate need of him. Any good parent knows you can do the dishes or mow the yard faster—and better—than your ten year-old, but the issue isn’t doing the dishes or mowing the yard, it’s raising children. A good parent does what the child cannot do for itself. A foolish parent pampers a child who can (and should) take responsibility for its own choices. The Heavenly Father is a wise and good parent; he knows our true potential.

Which invitation is more glorious, for us to work with him side by side, or to receive a one-way ticket to heaven? Which invitation requires more of us, carries the potential to transform us, and shows us the greater respect? Perhaps this is how the Apostle saw us being "transformed into his image with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit."

In the death and resurrection of his only begotten son, the Father has done for us what we cannot do for ourselves. In the empowering presence of the Holy Spirit, Jesus is constantly at our side to guide, teach, and encourage. We are never alone, but we are never coddled.

Our book of inspiration, the Bible, is a record of this glorious invitation, issued again and again. Adam and Eve were invited to care for God’s act of creation; Abraham and Sarah were invited to initiate God’s plan of reconciliation; Moses was invited to spearhead God’s deliverance to a nation. These stories, grand and true, reveal how God works. Each story should lead us to ask, “What is my invitation?”

“I think that, when I die, it might be some time until I know it.” ~ Dallas Willard 

Imagine a walk with God so natural and relaxed it makes no difference whether you are at his house or yours. Imagine sharing your life with God—and God sharing his life with you. Ask Enoch: sometimes the journey and the destination become one. It’s the mark of transformed heart, a saint living in God’s presence moment by moment. It’s a destination available even in the journey.

In human relationships there is a distance between two souls, even souls committed and persevering. Thirty years of marriage leaves me staring in wonder at the depth of our mutual love, but I am also amazed at the separation. We can finish each other’s sentences and predict the next words on our lips, and yet surprise one another with thoughts unimagined: fears and slights and hurts and misunderstandings. 

There is one relationship, though, where one soul inhabits another. King David marveled at the otherness—and the closeness—of the Creator:

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

The “man after God’s own heart” opens this famous psalm overwhelmed at the nearness of God, but closes the very same Psalm with a demonstration of his distance from God's heart:

Do I not hate those who hate you, Lord,
    and abhor those who are in rebellion against you?
I have nothing but hatred for them;
    I count them my enemies.
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. ~ verses 21-24

In his attempt to show solidarity with God, David reveals the distance between them. David invites God to test and know his anxious thoughts, completely unaware that his hatred for others has already put the the difference on display. Anne Lamott said it well: "You can safely assume you've created God in your own image when it turns out that God hates all the same people you do."

If it’s true (and it is) that the Spirit of God comes to live within the human heart, then our greatest need is a heart big enough to host his infinite, loving presence. Even the grandest abode is a tiny Lego shack when the God of forever is knocking. Let’s join our brother Augustine in a prayer fit for every age, “Narrow is the mansion of my soul; enlarge Thou it, that Thou mayest enter in.”