Category: Jesus

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I Want to See Jesus

They were Greeks, standing outside of God’s promises. While drawn to the monotheism and the disciplined life offered by the Jews, they refused full commitment to Judaism. They were like New York City depression era children peering through the window of the luxury lifestyle and were satisfied with being outsiders. They were satisfied until Jesus showed up, and suddenly their spiritual hunger pains ached. Drawn to the teacher, but keeping their distance, they approached Philip with their request. “Sir, we would like to see Jesus” (Jn. 12:21).

If you listen carefully, those words have been reverberating throughout time, “We would like to see Jesus.” We can hear Zacchaeus utter them as he climbs the Sycamore tree just to get a glimpse of him passing by, “I just want to see Jesus” (Lk. 19:1-10). We can hear the so-called “sinful woman” whisper those words as she risks public shame by breaking social protocol to reach him, crying, “I just want to see Jesus” (Lk. 7:36-50). We can hear Thomas, so sure of himself as he disclosed his own fear of disappointment. “I’ll believe,” he says, “but first, I just want to see Jesus” (Jn. 20:25). And while John’s words are written so that we may trust his testimony, sometimes it feels like salt on an open wound. He says, “We heard him speak, we shook his hand and hugged him, we saw and gazed upon him” (1 Jn. 1:1). I read those same words and my hearts sinks because if I’m honest, I want so desperately to see him, too.

Something within us wants to see Jesus. As the song says, “Open the eyes of my heart, Lord, I want to see Jesus,” But something keeps me blinded to him. For some, like a child who sees their parent at the end of the day, they see him and run into his loving embrace. For others the wounds are so deep and painful to the touch, we long for the only means of healing possible. Still others are skeptical that he is full of grace and mercy, or that he is risen, or that he even lived to begin with, so we need his blessed assurance. All the while our greatest fear is that meeting him might not meet our expectations, and that in our hope it will only disappoint.

By the time Paul comes to 2 Corinthians 5:21 he is showing us a picture of Jesus, not the one we might want, but the picture of Jesus we need to see. In a church where their relationship with the apostle is estranged and tension is still present, Paul calls them to reconciliation. To hold the church together, they must stop the inward fighting and begin “reaching across the aisle.” More importantly, they must remove the fence they built to keep Paul out, and instead build a bridge or a larger table to invite Paul in. And in all this they must begin aligning themselves with God by assuming the role of an ambassador who actively participates in reconciliation. The motivation for reconciling is found in verse 21.

“God made him, who had no sin to be sin for us, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.”

The perfect and pure, holy and hallowed, set apart and sinlessness of Jesus is well documented in Scripture. From John who calls out, “Look, the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world” (Jn 1:29), to Peter who applies Isaiah proclamation to Jesus, “He committed no sin, and no deceit was found in his mouth” (1 Pet. 2:22; Is. 53:9), and to the Hebrews writer who claims, “. . . he was tempted in every way, just as we are, yet without sin” (Heb. 4:15), Scripture reinforces the perfection and sinlessness of Jesus. While he walked on this earth as a human, Jesus did so without the baggage we carry. He walked alone without sin, without guilt, without shame, without hatred, without lust, and without deceit. They never accompanied him. The dark places that encroach our hearts did not touch his heart. While Jesus was just like us, he was nothing like us.

Paul makes two statements in verse 21 that are deeper and richer than we can explore at this time. First, with God taking the initiative, he made Jesus who was without sin to be sin. Allow that image of those words to wash over you for a moment. Whether Paul is talking of the incarnation, when Jesus steps into humanity to endure all our sinfulness, or he’s talking about bearing the sins of the world on the cross, I do not know. It may be both.

All of us had to walk into patients’ homes that are nasty. The odor and stench are unbearable, as it absorbs into our clothing and into our noses. We can taste the nauseating foulness. Keeping the residents at arm’s length, we do everything we can to finish the visit and get out of their home. That’s not what Jesus did. No. He came and sat with us in our filth. Without becoming a sinner, he embraced us in our sin, refusing to keep us at arm’s length. He loved us despite our filth, and maybe even because of our filth, our failures, and our fears; it certainly wasn’t because of our great faith. Remember the indictment, whispered snarly under their breaths, “He eats with the sinners” (Lk. 15:1).

This leads to the second statement which is “. . . in him, we become the righteousness of God.” God now views us through the prism of Jesus which is how reconciliation is achieved in us and through us. The righteousness of God can either be imputative, in that God reaches down and declares us righteous, or its transformative, where God works through us to shape and mold our character to look like him. And like before, why not both imputative and transformative? He makes us righteous so that we become more righteous.

So Paul might describe it like this: the sinless one becomes sin-laden, so that in him the sinful may be viewed sinless; or the guiltless become guilty, so that in him the guilty may be viewed guiltless; or the righteous become lawless so that in him the lawless may be viewed as righteous; or the one with honor becomes shame so that in him those who are shamed may be viewed with honor.

What is left is a simple prayer, “Open the eyes of my heart Lord, I want to see Jesus.”

As a child, I had my fair share of spankings. I wasn’t a bad child who rebelled against his parents, but sometimes my behavior needed a course correction. Mom and Dad tried keeping me and my siblings on the straight and narrow. On this particular day, my hometown had experienced a good amount of rain and large mudpuddles were present, especially at school. Before we left that morning, mom told my brother, my sister, and me that we were not to get wet at school. Since I was in elementary school, I guess I interpreted her command to be limited to school hours. Mom was the librarian and often stayed till 4:30 or later, so with nothing better to do after hours, I played outside. I played in the mudpuddle. I got soaked playing in the mudpuddle.

Mom said nothing on the way home, but I’m pretty sure she was reaching a boiling point. She called me to the kitchen where she expressed her displeasure at my behavior. Then, with the belt in hand, she invited me to her lap.

To say I deserved the punishment is unquestionable. Looking back on that moment, I’ve wondered if there was not a better way to handle the moment.

The story is told of a family with a delinquent son who always pushed the boundaries of his parents. One of his favorite episodes was to be late for dinner. Sitting at the table with the entire family was a core value for the patriarch of the family. The son, though, thought differently. He hated the formality and viewed his time with his parents and siblings as an encroachment on his own time. His passive aggressive behavior kicked in so that being late to dinner was his means of thumbing his nose to his parents.

At wits end, the father looked at his son and said, “The next time you’re late to supper, you will sit here with an empty plate and watch the rest of us eat dinner. Then, you will go to bed without supper.”

It didn’t take long for the son to rebel. The next night, he showed up late like he was calling his father’s bluff. With everyone in their seats, the father looked at his son and reinforced the punishment rule. He will watch them eat their dinner.

The father led the family in prayer.

Following the prayer, the family began serving themselves the food, except for the son who sat and watched the others pile on the delicious food. Once everyone was served, the father took his plate full of food and stood up. He walked over to his son and, while he removed his son’s empty plate, he set his own plate before the son. With his son’s plate in hand, he returned to his seat where he watched his family eat dinner.

The similarities of these stories are linked to a son who stands in defiance to his parents. The contrast between the two stories is how the parent chooses to exact punishment on the child. While the corporal punishment debate is not in play here, one of these scenarios looks more like Jesus than the other. And if you can see the difference, then maybe, maybe, you can say you’ve seen Jesus.

“Open the eyes of my heart Lord, I want to see Jesus” . . . “God made him, who had no sin to be sin for us, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.”

Soli Deo Gloria!
(i.e., only God is glorified!)

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An Impossible Dream: Wannabe Knights Fighting Windmills

A hero lives within all of us. We champion the weak while triumphing over the wicked. Most of us have nurtured the hero at a young age by wearing a cape or mask and maybe packing a toy side arm. We pretended trees were our forts, boulders were lookout points and our bicycles were our horses. We fought our enemies and secured the safety of the damsel in distress. We dreamed an impossible dream.

As we entered adulthood the hero within us never died, but continued to thrive as we championed greater causes. Maybe we feed the homeless in a soup kitchen. Maybe we help lead one of the addiction support groups. Maybe we volunteer to read at the local elementary school. Maybe we collect supplies for a children’s home or loose change for a crisis pregnancy center. Deep down we know we’re doing good and helping overcome something bad.

Life can be complicated. And the battles we choose to fight hold the life we live in the balance, or at least we believe so. Too many times we’ve convinced ourselves we’re fighting giants when we’re really fighting windmills, and the dream is impossible to realize.

Don Quixote was the Man of La Mancha. A man of chivalry. A knight, or at least he saw himself as a knight. With his squire by his side, who was actually a poor farmer named Sancho, Don Quixote sought out his adventures to conquer evil and to save the good. His most notorious battle was the fierce giant. Everyone else only saw him fail at taking down a windmill.

I once had a conversation with my college roommate, Mike Anderson. Trying to be respectful, I was seeking insight to the personality of a mutual friend. This person tended to exaggerate problems and events, in part to make himself the hero of the story. At least that was my assessment. With Mike always diplomatic and a kind person, I needed him to taper my opinion. Instead, he concurred, saying, “Well, Jon, he does like to fight his windmills.” When we’re wannabe knights fighting windmills, it’s an impossible dream to reach.

Herein lies the difficulty of anyone who watches Don Quixote fight their windmills. A sense of reality has been abandoned and no one can tell the knight that what stands before him/her is only a windmill, not a giant. Or Don Quixote creates a crisis in order to pretend he/she has the answer to the produced problem. Either way, reality has been sacrificed for drama, and Sancho convincing The Man of La Mancha otherwise is just as futile as Don Quixote fighting the windmills.

Since trying to stop a person from fighting windmills is in and of itself an impossible dream, then redirecting our time and energy into something else might be more beneficial. By focusing on Jesus’ ministry we can solidly ground our own ministries and avoid chasing windmills.

Mark 10:45 is often thought of as the focal point to Mark’s gospel. Jesus, in responding to the disciples who wanted the top places of power in the kingdom, told them that “. . . the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.” Two words in this one verse brings discipleship and ministry away from the windmills and straight to its core.

Serve. Jesus didn’t expect people to serve him, but he did his best to serve others. The most explicit moment recorded of him serving is the washing of the disciples’ feet in John 13. Humiliating and degrading, Jesus willingly performs the task everyone else felt was beneath them. Regulated to the low-man on the totem pole, Jesus embraced and modeled servanthood for us. As one cliché nails this moment, “People don’t care about how much you know until they know how much you care.” Serving bridges the gap between what you know and how much you care.

Sacrifice. While Jesus had envisioned his crucifixion when he spoke these words, his entire ministry was cradled in sacrifice. He gave up heaven for earth (Phil 2:5-11). He gave up his time and energy so that he may heal the masses of people who came to him. Day after day he emptied himself so that God might fill him again to repeat the process time and time again.

Service and sacrifice keep ministry and discipleship well-grounded, not to mentioned, humbled. Even if we decide to fight windmills, and the temptation is always present for those battles, perspective and credibility is always built on service and sacrifice. Only then is the dream possible.

Soli Deo Gloria!
(i.e., only God is glorified!)

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Trees Walking Around: Refocusing Our Blurred Vision of Jesus

“I see people . . . walking around like trees (Mk. 8:24). The blind man’s commentary on his healing was revealing. Nowhere else in the gospel did Jesus come close to a failed moment when someone wanted healing than this blind man of Bethsaida. The act took two takes with the first attempt leaving his eyesight barely improved. Barely.

Much ink has been spilt on this miraculous story trying to explain Jesus’ apparent power failure. But Mark may be using this story (Mk. 8:22-26) as the front end of Jesus’ journey to Jerusalem with a second back end healing of a blind man as Jesus reaches Jericho (Mk. 10:46-52). In other words the two healing stories of blind men hold the journey to Jerusalem in place so that the first blind man can see but still lacks 20/20 vision. The second blind man is able to focus his sights clearly on Jesus. The blind man may very well be representative of the disciples as they grapple with their blurred vision of Jesus. If that is the case, our vision is often just as crippling.

As Mark records the journey to Jerusalem, three teachable moments surface where Jesus clarifies his mission, ministry and mandate. Each of these moments include a prediction of what will unfold when Jesus reaches Jerusalem, followed by the disciple failure to grasp his teaching, concluding with further instructions on discipleship.

The first teachable moment (Mk. 8:31-38) occurs immediately following Peter’s confession in Caesarea Philippi. For the first time in Mark’s gospel Jesus lays out what they will find in Jerusalem. Of course, Peter, refusing to believe that Jesus will suffer at the hands of the Jews, pulls him aside for a rebuke. Yes, Peter rebuked Jesus!? But Jesus will have none of his (so-called) wisdom. Instead, he presents a vision of discipleship that includes cross carrying and sacrificing one’s life.

The second teachable moment (Mk. 9:30-37) appears as they were passing through Galilee. Once again, Jesus wants the Twelve to enter Jerusalem eyes wide opened as he’ll be executed but will be raised three days later. Mark tells us they didn’t understand (v. 32). And in case we needed evidence of their misunderstanding, they began arguing over which disciple was the greatest one. While Jesus is sacrificing his life, the disciples are debating which of them is number one. Jesus refocuses their attention by exhorting them to seek the number two spot. Instead of pursuing their own self-interests, approach life as if you are the least of these. No power. No authority. No sway (Mk. 9:30-37).

The final teachable moment (Mk. 10:21-45) surfaces as they were nearing Jerusalem itself with Jesus leading the way. Here, he outlines the most detailed description of the events about to unfold. Betrayed. Condemned. Mocked. Flogged. Killed. Resurrected. But James and John pull Jesus aside for a personal request of sitting in the place of power and position at his coming kingdom. Not only did he rebuff their request, but he redirected their attention that leadership does not mean lordship. Leadership means servanthood. Jesus came not to be served, but to serve. Thus, we follow his leadership model.

When we latch onto following Jesus but fail to see what discipleship really is, then we’re like the blind man Jesus is trying to heal. We see, but it’s all a blur almost like trees walking around. We operate from a power position. We control people’s movements and actions. We use relationships for personal gain then cast them aside when they no longer aid our agenda. We fight for rights as long as we get something of value from it, and fight as long as it cost us nothing. We mock people we disagree with and demean others who won’t let us have our way. We claim to see Jesus clearer than anyone else, but if the truth be known, we’re no better than the blind man standing by the side of the road needing to be silenced by those hearing our voices.

In order to see Jesus with clarity in vision, discipleship must be defined on his terms not ours. Following him means we’re willing to bear the burden while carrying our cross. We stop seeking to be first as we desire to embrace humility in owning the joy of being number two. Finally, we begin using our position and power to serve the people around us. Once our eyes are checked under these criteria, we’ll begin to see Jesus with clarity. We’ll begin seeing each other with clarity.

Soli Deo Gloria!
(i.e., only God is glorified!)

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When Jesus Hosts a Watch Party

On a cool spring afternoon the disciples made their way from the temple grounds through olive groves to a bluff overlooking the temple itself. Herod had overseen the construction of a magnificent edifice that inspired wonder and awe upon onlookers; he captured what Solomon only envisioned. The temple was completed some twenty years earlier and the boy Jesus might have been one of its first attendees. Jews of all walks of life swelled with pride as the temple was a light to the nations.

Naturally, Peter, John and the disciples draw their attention to the building and made a passing commentary on its glorious beauty. I can’t fault them. I’ve stood in awe on top of Rocky Butte overlooking downtown Portland, Oregon amidst Mt. Hood, the Columbia River, and Mount St. Helens. Impressive. I distinctly recall my visit to Washington DC and how awestruck I was in seeing the Capitol building. Speechless. So the disciples’ attention on the building is not beyond something I might have said. But Jesus’ response was exactly Jesus, “All those stones to build the temple will land in a heap of rubble” (Mk. 13:2).

Shocked. Bewildered. Confused. The disciples sought clarification from their teacher. They wanted answers to two questions, “When will it happen?” and “What will be the sign ahead of fulfillment?” What unfolds in Mark 13 (and Matthew 24) is a difficult answer that requires an understanding of the book of Daniel and apocalyptic literature, neither of which is easily assessed by modern, western thinking Christians. Certainly, followers of Christ have exploited his words, in part because Jesus not only answers their questions, but also points even further down history’s timeline to his return. The real difficulty is figuring out when Jesus is talking about Jerusalem’s fall and when he is talking about his return?

The simplest way to understand Mark 13 is that verses 5-32 all deal with the fall of Jerusalem. When Jesus talks about misdirection of the coming Christ (v. 6, 21-23), or nations warring against each other or cataclysmic events (v. 7-8) or the “abomination of desolation” (v. 14), he’s directly addressing events surrounding 70 AD. Certainly, persecution and betrayal (v. 9-13) will always be part of our faith-walk with Jesus, but Jesus is still looking at events unfolding in their next thirty-five years.

While verses 24-31 sound like Jesus is talking about his second coming, two facts say otherwise. First, “But in those days, following that distress,” (v. 24) means that Jesus is still on the AD 70 events, not his second coming. Secondly, the language of these verses continues apocalyptic images and was often used by prophets to describe God’s judgment on a nation. In other words, Jesus uses the Old Testament visuals to apply to Jerusalem facing God’s wrath through the Romans. Jerusalem will fall and the temple will be razed.

Jesus slowly pivots his exposition at verse 32 by saying, “No one knows about that day or hour . . ..” He has just told his disciples about heaven and earth passing away (v. 31) and the enduring power of God’s word, but no one is privy to when the end comes. I’m sure Jesus knew when Jerusalem was going to fall, or at least the general time frame for its fall. But he, the angels and the many so-called “predictors” do not know when God set the time for him to return.

In order to appreciate the ominous foreshadowing words of Jesus, we need to try to feel the despair of watching Jerusalem being breached and the temple being levelled. For a first century Jew the world was emotionally coming to an end. The game was over. The final chapter was written. Go on home because no “end-scene” credit was shot. We know this because we’ve experienced moments where all looked lost. October 29, 1929 when the stock market crashed forcing America into the Great Depression. December 7, 1941 when America was thrust into the throes of a world war for the second time. September 11, 2001 when terrorists high jacked planes and flew them into the Twin Towers and into the Pentagon. Each of those events changed the direction of the world, but didn’t close the book on the world.

The solution Jesus offers to his disciples is to invite them to his own Watch Party. “Watch out that no one deceives you” (v. 5). “Be alert! You do not know when that time will come” (v. 33). “Keep watch” because you do not know when he returns (v. 34-35). “What I say to everyone: Watch” (v. 37). So he invites us to his Watch Party because it might be at midnight when he’s praying in the garden (v. 35; 14:32), or just before the rooster crows during his trial (v. 35; 14:72), or at dawn when he was sentenced to die (v. 35; 15:1). We watch because we never know how God will take an “end of the world” disaster and breathe new hope into it.

Soli Deo Gloria!
(i.e., only God is glorified!)

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T.H.I.N.K. Jesus

Social Media has devolved into an environment where people feel free to share whatever is on their mind without running their words through a filter. Instead of a safe playground to interact with friends, social media has become dangerous and toxic. Not all the time, mind you. But a good portion of the time. Anger. Frustration. Hatred. Divisiveness. Slander. Shaming. All of which fuel the woke/called-out culture. Like the meme says, “I’m just as surprised as you are by what comes out of my mouth.”

To counter, someone created the T.H.I.N.K. paradigm to help provide a filter, not only for social media but for all our words. The T.H.I.N.K. acronym asks five questions based on the letters for think.

Is It True? The erosion/corrosion of truth in our society is well documented and I won’t use space to rehash that now. However, even with good source material to fact check information, we seem to be more concerned with our own agenda and not seeking truth.

Is It Helpful? It’s one thing to post ideas and concepts for consideration. But a very thin line is present to post for simply to stir things up. Like lighting a fire cracker just to watch everyone’s reactions, some post to watch Social Media explode. Instead of helping move the story forward, it becomes a show in and of itself.

Is It Inspiring? If what is posted does not help people, then it’s safe to say that it won’t inspire either. When our emotions overtake us, and when we’re driven by negative feelings, what we say or post will not inspire anyone. When posting to stir the pot or for combative purposes, then driving a wedge between others is the only inspiration, and it’s not very inspiring.

Is It Necessary? The fact that one may need to hit the pause button before posting or speaking may be a big clue to stop forward progress. Since experience tells us that we will not move the ideological needle, then it’s like a futile experience.

Is It Kind? Maybe the biggest question to ask hits at the kindness meter. Since too much social media is filled with anything but kindness, maybe we need to make sure otherwise. Let’s find new ways to encourage one another online.

The five questions that help shape or shift our paradigm only work so far as we’re willing to stop to ask the questions, then honestly answer them. Sounds complicated, especially since rules may offer a guide to holy behavior, but they’ll never transform people’s lives. Something more needs to happen.

Paul exhorts the Philippians to have the mind or attitude of Christ (2:5). While contextually, he’s talking about humility and unity, the broader principle is for his followers to think and act like Jesus. Beyond a simple or mimic WWJD formula, Jesus calls us to be him to the public. So when we speak or post on social media the message beyond the post is the redeeming work of Jesus in our lives. We don’t add to the toxicity of social media, we try to allow Jesus to redeem it. Cheerful. Supportive. Respectful. Harmonious. Complimentary. Honor. Silence. For Jesus himself once posted, “You are the light of the world” (Mt. 5:16). It’s time to let it shine.

Soli Deo Gloria!
(i.e., only God is glorified!)

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Revsiting WWJD

The fad took over the late 90’s and still had legs into early 2000’s with its footprint still present today. Let’s be honest, it was kind of cool to walk into Walmart and see then name, Jesus, plastered everywhere (even if profiting off of Jesus’ name raises spiritual questions?). People were wearing t-shirts and bracelets, drinking from mugs with Jesus’ name on it, or his first initial. Two movies starring John Schneider and a hit song by Big Tent Revival sealed the legacy with the call letters, WWJD, all beginning its legacy in 1895.

Charles Sheldon was the author who wrote a book entitled, In His Steps. The fictional story takes place in the small community of Raymond whose world is turned upside down with a homeless man passing through their town. He had asked for help, but no one responded. Even Henry Maxwell, the minister for 1st Church of Raymond, dismissed his plea for help. Then on Sunday morning the man sat in church, and while telling his gripping story of homelessness he collapsed and passed away.

Henry Maxwell took the event personally. Driven back to Scripture, he landed in 1 Peter 2:21,

“To this you were called, because Christ suffered for you,
leaving you an example, that you should follow in his steps.”

Maxwell took that verse to exhort those willing to participate in an experiment. He challenged them to ask a simple question before making any decision, ‘What Would Jesus Do?” (WWJD) in your place, then follow through at best you can. The rest of the story explores how a handful of devoted followers answered the question and the impact it had on their lives and in their community.

Sheldon should be commended for posing the question and encouraging Christ’s disciples to follow him wholeheartedly. Certainly, simply asking WWJD is far better than never contemplating what it means to follow Jesus. But Sheldon’s premise is flawed for at least three reasons.

First, yes, Jesus lived a human life, but never in our shoes, thus making it difficult to determine how to answer so many questions. He never married. He never bought a car. He never went to college or even trade school. He never dealt with the fast food industry. He never had to vote for a politician. He never grew old. So when we ask the question, WWJD, we have to deal with guiding principles like love, forgiveness, compassion, serving and self-sacrifice to inform our decisions. The simple WWJD question ignores the deeper significance of actual discipleship.

Secondly, Sheldon interpreted much of the WWJD through the lenses of the Social Gospel. The Social Gospel addressed social issues of the day like poverty, alcohol, child labor, justice and race relations. Such issues needed and still need addressing as the church should never remain silent in such matters. But the movement was flawed, at least in part because it was rooted in the optimistic hope of the turn of the twentieth century: man wasn’t that bad and God wasn’t that mad (I borrowed that definition). Ultimately, the Social Gospel tried transforming society without transforming lives and it all unraveled when WWI broke out. Man really was that bad, and God must have been that mad.

Finally, Sheldon ignored much of the context of 1 Peter 2. How do you live in a society where you belong to a greater Master and are citizens of a greater Kingdom? What do you do when the government stands against you (2:13-17), your spouse is an unbeliever (3:1-7) and your master is mean spirited (2:18-25)?

Peter calls his readers to look at Jesus who refused to retaliate but absorbed the insults because he trusted God. And without a fad or self-martyr complex, that’s how you follow Jesus in his steps. That is Peter’s understanding of WWJD. In faith we live above board. When attacked, we never retaliate and never threaten. We trust God that his justice will prevail, even if it means we follow Jesus to the cross. And I believe such discipleship is far greater than a market scheme to wear a t-shirt.

Soli Deo Gloria!
(i.e. only God is glorified!)

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HOPE: Inside An Herodian Jail Cell

Alone … Despair … Uncertainty … Doubt … Second Guessing … Fear …
Worry … Anxiety … Abandonment … Forsaken.

When you’re left to your own thoughts, you can easily fall into a dark hole by over analyzing everything. As John the Baptist sat in Herod’s prison these are some of the words that came to my mind that may describe the prophet.

I always saw John as bold and courageous. With his Elijah-like ruggedness, he prepared the way for Christ by calling people to repentance. When soldiers came for baptism he challenged them to act with integrity. When the religious leaders showed up to hear him preach, he called them out for their hypocrisy. And even behind bars, when given a hearing before Herod, he confronted the immoral relationship with his brother’s wife.

But maybe living in a dungeon kinda gets to you.

So when his own disciples brought him news of what Jesus was doing, the doubt surfaced. Was Jesus the One they were waiting for? Was his preaching to prepare the way for Jesus on task? So he sent two of his disciples to inquire of the Lord (Lk. 7:18-19). And the response John received was far from a simple “yes” or “no” answer. Jesus forced John to connect the dots.

First, Jesus returns to the Jubilee theme of Luke 4:18-19 by reminding John’s disciples what they’ve witnessed: the blind see, the lame walk, lepers are cured, deaf hear, dead are raised and good news is preached to the poor (Lk. 7:22). If the proof is in the pudding, then sit back and look at what Jesus has done. Beyond the miraculous nature of Jesus’ ministry lies a more important message. Jesus is pointing John back to Isaiah to remind him how he’s fulfilling Isaiah’s Messianic prophecy (see Is. 29:18-19; 35:5-6; 42:18; 43:8; 61:1-2).

Secondly, Jesus utters a blessing (i.e. a beatitude?) for John’s disciples, “Blessed is the man who does not fall away on account of me” (Lk. 7:23). I’ve struggled to understand why Jesus saw himself as a possible stumbling block to faith. Sure, I heed the warning. My actions and my words can (and sadly have) drive someone away from Christ. I get that. But how does Jesus own such words?

To say Jesus’ ministry was controversial is an understatement; it certainly held a scandalous layer to it. Simeon had predicted the fall of many in association with Jesus’ presence (Lk. 2:34). Throughout his ministry, Jesus offended the established to the point they were willing to execute him. Families divided will found themselves pitted against each other as some were whole heartedly willing to follow Jesus and others rejected him (Lk. 12:51-53). And even now, John’s imprisonment was a sign of Jesus’s coming.

So the blessing that Jesus pronounces (v. 23) is clearly owned by Jesus. He knew the controversy surrounding himself and feared losing people on the “drop-out track.” Thus, John can find strength and security in knowing Jesus is exactly who he thought he was before the doubt set in. His suffering in prison continues the preparatory role for Christ as one who must suffer himself (see v. 27).

And what about us? Following Jesus can still carry a divisive layer to discipleship. Sometimes Christ is lightening rod in relationships. We can be shunned, rejected and abandoned by friends and family because of our loyalty to Jesus. In our walk with him we can face loneliness and feel we walk alone. But like John, it’s in the solitude of our faith we find hope.

Soli Deo Gloria!
(i.e. only God is glorified!)

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Sent: Beyond a Mere Errand

For years I considered the sentence a “throw-a-way” line with very little meaning or purpose. When Jesus heals the man born blind, he did so by spitting on the ground, fashioning some mud and rubbing it on the blind man’s eyes. He then instructed the man to go wash himself in the Pool of Siloam. It’s here where John inserts himself into the text with his own commentary, “Siloam means Sent” (Jn. 9:7).

For years I’ve read that line and thought nothing of the comment. To be honest, I couldn’t quite figure out why John needed to break the story to pass on that information.  Was he kind of a trivia geek? Did he think Alex Trebek and Jeopardy might use it as an answer? With tongue-n-cheek humor, It makes me wonder . . .

“The Apostle John tells us this body of water means ‘Sent.’”
“What is the Pool of Siloam?”

The first thing that should have tipped me off was that my bible capitalizes “Sent,” and after a quick pursuing of various bibles, and you find that almost every translation follows suite. Capitalizing a word in mid-sentence brings significance to the word. At least the translators are telling us this word is important.

Then in a prior study, I realized that the word “sent” is used at least a dozen times in John’s gospel. For instance, only six verses into his gospel, the apostle tells us that the Baptist was “sent” by God, whose purpose was to testify about the Christ. And a significant key verse, and popular one at that, is followed by the clarification of Jesus’ mission.

For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him (Jn. 3:17).

The purpose for Jesus’ arrival on earth was to save the world. Condemning the world was never in his mandate. Actually, humanity had accomplished great feats in terms of condemning ourselves. We’ve never needed help from God in the “condemning” arena. We’re selfish, prideful, sharp-tongued, immoral, unrepentant, hard hearted, judgmental, and the list goes on and on. At the center of our core we have very little redeeming qualities and are in great need of redemption. Where we needed help was in the salvation arena. That help came from God who sent his Son on a redemptive mission to seek and to save. None of us were good enough, that was already proven. All of us were in dire straits. So God sent his Son to seek and to save the lost, which was his mission’s mandate.

So while John tells us that the Pool of Siloam means “Sent,” he actually does not explain its significance. Maybe because most of his readers knew that this pool was built during the time of Hezekiah and the water was “sent” to the pool by a channel from the Gihon spring. The water was used for the Feast of Lights and rumor was that it contained healing properties.

 That’s why we read that verse as some throw-away-comment that means nothing to us. But when we consider the larger picture, the moment become a window into the larger picture of Jesus’ ministry and mission. He is “sent” to save. While in the process of saving and healing, he “sends” a blind man to a pool to wash. Upon cleansing the mud from his eyes, he’s healed and able to see.

All this because Jesus was sent on a mission that was far more than just a simple errand.

Soli Deo Gloria!
(i.e. only God is glorified!)