Following The Lord . . . Surprisingly

We speak about having a personal relationship with Jesus. And that is good. It’s an idea rooted in the Gospels and described in the Epistles. We don’t want to have a “grasp of good principles” or merely settle into “living moral lives” all based on the example of a long dead guy. We want relationship with the living Savior, Jesus.

But doing life with Jesus, when he is no longer physically present as he was in the days of his incarnation is a bit of a challenge. How do we walk with him when we can’t see him?

A number of posts on this blog address issue like “learning to listen” and following the Spirit. I continue to try and think biblically and honestly about just how this is supposed to happen . . . in my life and the lives of others. And I came across an encouraging and interesting moment in Luke’s account of the church in Acts that pictures following the Lord in a surprising way.

In Acts 10 and the first part of 11, we have an account of how Peter ends up talking with a Gentile guy and his family; the man’s name was Cornelius and Peter ends up sharing the good news with Cornelius and his family and they come to faith in Jesus. Peter had times of prayer, and a vision (repeatedly), and a specific word from the Spirit, and angelic messages through others, and a fortuitous turn of events to help him follow the Lord. All those things went into how Peter ended up doing what Jesus wanted him to do. And, candidly, I often long for such things–such direct “leading.”

But it is right after that, as Luke reports about the establishing of the first truly Gentile community of faith, that I end up a bit surprised. The good news ends up getting all the way to Antioch, a city some good distance beyond the boundaries of Palestine and, hence, a primarily non-Jewish place. And that is where the first Gentile congregation is planted . . . a church that actually is the first community to be branded with the name “Christian” and the first church that purposefully sent out missionaries to reach others. Pretty cool. And I am forced to ask: “How’d that happen?”

Luke tells us . . .

So then those who were scattered because of the persecution that occurred in connection with Stephen made their way to Phoenicia and Cyprus and Antioch, speaking the word to no one except to Jews alone. But there were some of them, men of Cyprus and Cyrene, who came to Antioch and [began] speaking to the Greeks also, preaching the Lord Jesus. And the hand of the Lord was with them, and a large number who believed turned to the Lord. (Acts 11:19-21)

A few men, from Cyprus and Cyrene, who had been in Jerusalem and had come to know Jesus, were in that city when Stephen was killed (as recorded by Luke in Acts 7 and 8). And the heat got turned up in that city. Persecution began. Followers of Jesus fled because of the trouble. And these guys ended up in Antioch.

Did they have a mission strategy? Apparently not. (Was that where the bus dumped them out? Did they run out of denarii?) Did the Spirit specifically direct them this way? We are not told so. In fact, to speak of these believers being “scattered” sounds much more like they kind of dispersed randomly from the city because of the trouble.

But when they got to Antioch, something happened. Jesus’ “hand was upon them.” Apparently they were doing what Jesus wanted and he was pleased to bless what they were doing. They were, therefore, doing his will. They were all about what he wanted for them. And how did they get there? Surprisingly . . . by being scattered.

I feel that way some times . . . often. I try and think and plan for what I believe the Lord wants for me. I try and listen, in and through the Scriptures and for the voice of the Spirit. And some times . . . often . . . I am not really sure I hear anything at all. And the day just begins to unfold, and I feel like I am being driven or carried along by the circumstances . . . kind of like being scattered.

And I wonder if I have missed the will of God for me, for that day, in that moment. But, maybe not. Maybe Jesus is able to get me to where he wants me to be and is intending to bless what we do when we simply are the people he intends us to be wherever we might find ourselves.

Like brothers who end up fleeing trouble and landing in Antioch, it may be that a part of following the Lord is to willing “be” who we are wherever we find ourselves today.

Just Who Do I Think I Am?

We all live, more or less consistently, in line with how we conceive ourselves. That is, we live out what or who we think we are. Although we will seek to grow and develop, mature and improve, the way we think about ourselves at the core of our being, the way we imagine ourselves in those quiet personal moments of reflection, will powerfully shape how we live.

If we believe that we are unloved and unloveable, that will impact all our relationships with others. If we have embraced the view that, in a most basic sense, we are fatally flawed and broken, we will live up (or, perhaps, better “live down”) to that image.

So, how we think about ourselves–and whether the view we have of ourselves is true–is vitally important to living well.

These thoughts were stirred as I was glancing at the opening verses of Paul’s letter to the believing community in Rome. This is the “great apostle Paul” who is writing. This is the man who has been part of changing the face of the Roman world of his day. He has planted churches throughout most of the known world of the time. He has seen countless numbers healed and delivered; God has worked amazing miracles at his hands. And he is writing to believers in the city of Rome, hoping to come and see them.

As was common practice in that day, letters began with an identification of the writer. And so Paul pens these words:

Paul, a bond-servant of Christ Jesus, called [as] an apostle, set apart for the gospel of God (Romans 1:1).

Paul says three things about himself. In this opening line, he betrays a good bit about how he thinks about himself.

He is a bond-servant of Christ Jesus. He is a slave; that is what the word means. He belongs to another; he is not his own man. He lives to do the bidding of another. Paul sees himself as anything but independent, living his own life his way.

Paul is (literally) a “called apostle.” (The brackets in the quote above are this particular translation’s way of indicating that the translators inserted the word an to help make the English a bit more readable.) Let’s unpack this short phrase.

It is not that Paul is called to be an apostle; not that he is growing up to become that. And the “calling” idea is rich and deep for Paul. It carries a divine mandate kind of sense–that is the way that Paul uses the “called” idea throughout this letter. “Apostle” is less formal title and more descriptor. The word “apostle” means commissioned and sent delegate; you might think “ambassador.” So Paul is saying that he is on assignment, doing what he is doing because God has sent him to do what he does.

And then Paul says that he is “set apart for the Gospel of God.” This language of “set apart” speaks of something defined by boundaries, marked out by specific limits. And the limits, these boundaries, for Paul are defined by the Gospel.

So, how might we capture the essence of what Paul is saying in more contemporary language to make sure we don’t reduce his thoughts to cliche? Perhaps we might say something like:

I am Paul, a slave of Christ Jesus to whom I belong and at whose beck and call I stand ready to serve, a delegated and sent representative on assignment, one whose life is defined by the good news of what God has done in and through Jesus Christ.

Now I know that neither you nor I have the identical call on our lives that Paul did; that’s not only true, but it’s OK. But just how do you think about yourself? How might Paul’s thinking about himself encourage a bit more proper self-conception in us?

Do I see myself as wholly given over to another? Do I rightly grasp that I am not my own person? That, having been bought with the blood of the Son, I now belong, as servant, to him?

Do I see myself, in whatever I am doing, on assignment from the throne of heaven? Do I rightly recognize that what I do is, in the deepest sense, what I am given to do by God? Do I think of how I spend my days and hours and minutes as a stewardship granted in the service of the rightful King and as a representative of the only true Kingdom?

Do I understand that the only proper defining lines for how I live and the way I carry out this serving ambassadorship is the good news that comes to me through Jesus? Does the reality of the Gospel shape my relationships, my work ethic, my family living, my worship, my free time, my finances? Am I defined by the Gospel?

My specific call is different than Paul’s. But the contours of thinking, the way Paul grasped who he thought he was, provides healthful and holy ways to understand just who I am.

And understanding that is essential to living well.

When the Going Gets Tough

Paul’s life was hardly an easy lot. From the very beginning of his journey with Jesus, he faced hardship, opposition, persecution, challenges. He was no stranger to how hard things can be for one who follows Jesus–and yet he seems to overflow with joy.

In his letter to the Philippians, that is clear. Although he is not where he’d like to be (after all, who wants to be in prison, forgotten and overlooked?!), he still writes to friends to share his joy with them and encourage them in joyful, Jesus-focused living. Amazing!

Part way through chapter two, after writing about living life in a Jesus-way and noting that such living is possible because God moves in the souls of Jesus followers to provide both the impetus and the empowerment for such living, Paul encourages his readers to live such a life without grumbling. In other words: Stop griping about the challenge of living out this life and embrace it as a gift from God and get on with it!

But notice what else he adds to the end of this encouragement:

Do all things without grumbling or disputing; so that you will prove yourselves to be blameless and innocent, children of God above reproach in the midst of a crooked and perverse generation, among whom you appear as lights in the world, holding fast the word of life . . . (Philippians 2:14-16)

Paul’s so honest about life. He says that (even in his day) this world can sure be crooked and perverse. The first word is the root from which we get the English word “scoliosis” (referring to curvature of the spine). It means twisted, bent out of proper shape. The second word speaks of something that distorted resulting in an image or a path that is all wrong. What a description of how life, at times, appears: all bent out of shape and distorted so that life doesn’t make sense.

And how does Paul think the Philippians (and, for that matter, all friends of Jesus) are going to live lives that are holy and blameless in that kind of setting? He suggests that part of what enables us to live such “children of God” kind of lives is as we “hold fast the word of life.”

The “word of life” is one way that Paul speaks of the Gospel–the truth of what God has done and is doing in the world through the life, death, resurrection, ascension, and glorification of Jesus, the Son. The Gospel is God’s plan to rescue sinful people and make them into his own children. That is the word of life.

But Paul says that the followers of Jesus need to “hold fast” the word of life. What does that mean?It’s an interesting expression; the verb doesn’t appear often in New Testament.

A great picture that conveys the sense of the word is found in Acts 3:5. There the word is used to speak of what a lame man did as Peter and John passed by, thinking that he might receive something from them. He “latched onto” them; this was not casual glance. The man clung to PEter and John in anticipation, he held fast, he gave them his full and undivided attention. 

And Paul tells us that a significant part of how we survive and thrive in a world that distorted and twisted is by latching on to the Gospel message that is the real word of life.

When the going gets tough (and, really, it always is), then the followers of Jesus cling even more tenaciously, intentionally, and consciously to the message of truth, the word of life, the glorious good news of what God is doing in and through our friend and Savior, Jesus.

I know that when I feel the toughness of life, I do want to hold on to something. But often, I end up latching on to things that are not really going to help me. Maybe I tighten my grip on my possessions, thinking they will provide me security. Perhaps I latch on to power or reputation, hoping that my sense of self will weather the storm. It differs from trouble to trouble, but like all of us I look for something that will be dependable in the midst of a twisted and broken world.

And Paul’s words come back to me. The invitation to live out Jesus’ kind of life is attractive. And a significant way to give in to that kind of life and live well in the midst of a twisted and broken world is to get an unyielding grip on the truth of the Gospel.

So, what are you holding on to today?

And My Part Is . . . ?

Although most of the posts (to date) have been anchored in either Mark or Philippians, I am still personally drilling down into other books of the Bible, trying to learn what it is that God is up to in the world, in my community of faith, in my life. Recently, I have been spending time in Paul’s letter to the Ephesians, and although this is not a “new read” for me, I have been delightfully surprised by what the Spirit has called my attention to.

In this letter, in chapter one, verses 3 through 14, Paul describes what it is that God has done for those who have come to faith in Jesus. As Paul wrote it, it is one long sentence that celebrates the grace and goodness and glory of God in drawing people into life through what he has done through the life and death and resurrection of Jesus. (It’s well worth taking a minute or so to read the passage. If you don’t have a Bible at hand, the link at the bottom of this page will take you to a web site where you can read what Paul wrote.)

The first thing that strikes me about this pantheon of praise to God is how God-centric it is. The real “actor” in this passage is God himself. It is all about what God did.

He (God) blessed, he chose, he predestined, he bestowed, he lavished, he is working out all things for the good pleasure of his will. It’s just layer upon layer of rich and undeserved and unmerited and entirely gracious and free blessings–all by God’s doing. Life and adoption and holiness and redemption and forgiveness and salvation and the provision of the Spirit all come to us freely through the grace of God that he pours out on us for his own purposes and so that all that happens would be to the praise of the glory of his grace. Amazing stuff.

But that left me thinking: What is my part in all of this? What am I supposed to do in light of all this that God does?

Perhaps you’ve felt yourself put under pressure by some well-intentioned church-goer who demanded of you: God has done so much for you, what are going to do for him? Maybe you simply live with the weight of feeling or thinking or believing that this “good news” of what God has done is just too good to be true and you anticipate the “bad news” coming and are getting ready to pull your weight and do your part to ensure that this life with God becomes real.

Well, I noticed, that in this lengthy proclamation of the good news of God’s grace that reaches us in and through Jesus, that we do have a part–only it is not what I anticipated or what is often championed.

Paul wrote and said that those who were the recipients of these many and manifold blessings . . .

Listened to the message of this good news of God’s grace (1:13)

Placed their hope in Jesus Christ in anticipation of what God would, in grace, do (1:12)

Believed what it was that God said he would in and for them because of Jesus (1:13)

Listened, hoped, believed. That’s it. That’s my part in the outworking of this amazing and life-altering plan of God to bestow blessings on the undeserving because of what Jesus accomplished in coming to give his life for sinners.

My part is to listen to this great and good news, fix my hope on what God says that he will ultimately do in getting glory for himself, and believe or trust him that what he says and what he does will be that life transforming, that good.

My part is . . . well . . . to embrace this good news as if it really is good news!

Convergence

With some friends, I have been thinking about “listening to the Spirit.” We have discussing what it means to walk in experiential reality with Jesus and to keep in step with the Spirit when Jesus is no longer physically present on the earth and when the Spirit who dwells within us is “incorporeal” (that doesn’t mean “not real”–although many seem to relate to the Spirit that way–but it means without a physical body).

We want to be able to hear from Jesus, know the mind of the Spirit, and find ourselves–with at least a small degree of certainty–”walking with God.”

Now, of course, we can turn to the Scriptures to discern what it is that God wants for us; much of what we long to know, God addresses in his Word. But what about those issues and choices and decisions and options that are not addressed directly in Scripture? Things like . . .

Where should I go to school?

Should I take that new job or not?

Who should I marry?

Is it a good thing for me to go on that mission trip? Or change my major? Or . . .

Although there might be some general guidelines in the Scriptures that have bearing on such decisions, and although we are enjoined (in Proverbs as well as elsewhere) to make “prudent” or “wise” decisions, there are times when we long to know: “Jesus, what do you want me to do?” And, a generic answer just might not cut it.

We were discussing Peter. Here’s someone who walked with Jesus, daily and in a physical way–up until the ascension. And then, no more! Jesus was no longer physically present and Peter could no longer listen to and follow Jesus in the same way that he had before. So, does Peter just go about his merry way, oblivious to what God might want for him? I don’t think so.

In Acts 9, we watch as Peter goes about doing the things he has come to understand Jesus wants him to do. He shares the good news about what Jesus has accomplished. He heals others in a manner he has come to see Jesus do. He has a general sense of what Jesus wants for him to do, and he does it. And then we come to Acts 10.

Peter, a good Jewish-raised follower of Jesus ends up going to a Gentile’s home. That would have been a huge obstacle. (That’s clear from the discussions elsewhere in the New Testament about the challenge that faced the early church in conceptualizing the relationship that would exist between Jew and Gentile once Jesus got a hold of both groups.) But, nevertheless, Peter went; and the Spirit worked in the Gentile’s family’s lives and the household was converted.

But then in Acts 11, Peter’s Jewish-raised co-followers of Jesus raised a question: “Why did you go and hang out with Gentiles?” Great question. And Peter’s basic answer is: God told me to go. (You probably need to stop and read Acts 9-11 to make sure you understand clearly what is going on and so you are resting on God’s words and not merely these blogged thoughts!)

So, for me, the question is: How did Peter know that God wanted him to go? And, as I look at what Peter said in Acts 11 to his friends, I see a number of elements that go into how Peter heard God. (I  will probably unpack each of these a bit more in future posts, but for the time being let me just briefly list what I see to be the five basic elements.)

1. Peter had been praying. Peter uses the generic word for pray; he was “talking with God.” (As opposed to making specific requests, or offering thanks.) So, to hear from God, Peter made time to talk with him.

2. Peter was open to an experiential “interruption” from God. Some Christians seem to think God is mute; that he can’t or doesn’t communicate. If Peter had thought that “Old Testament prophets got visions but God doesn’t do those kinds of things today” he would have dismissed the moment. So, to hear from God, Peter at least needed to be open to the possibility God might communicate.

3. Peter pushed back and thought about the experience. Every “spiritual experience” is not automatically from God nor a communication from him. Had Peter thought that, he would not have questioned and wrestled with the vision he saw and the voice he heard. So, to hear from God, Peter needed to be discerning and not naive.

4. Peter was willing to step out. In response to a combination of vision and voice, Peter tentatively stepped out to go with some strangers who came to the door, asking for him. It’s clear from the record of his experience in Cornelius’ house that Peter wasn’t absolutely sure what God was up to until he got there. But, Peter was at least willing to step out on what he thought God might be saying. So, to hear from God, Peter had to be willing to take a risk.

5. Peter sought to anchor what he believed was happening in what he was already sure Jesus had said and taught. Peter, looking back on his experience, sought to root his subjective “hearing” with what he knew, clearly, that Jesus had already said. So, to hear from God, Peter sought to understand his “leading” in light of Jesus already revealed word.

Not a formula. Not a method. Not “five steps to hearing from God.” It’s just Peter’s retelling how he knew what God had said. And, in the convergence of those five things, he ended up being sure.

Not a Dim Bulb

It has become a more complex problem, selecting light bulbs for the light fixtures around home. The choices have become multiplied! There are different kinds of light (some more “natural” others “warmer”), they draw different amounts of electricity while still insisting they give similar amounts of light, some are supposedly more ecologically friendly . . . it’s hard to just go in and get a “sixty-watt bulb” these days. But what that reminds me is that there are a variety of components that go into making light what it is.

Paul tells the Philippians that they are “light.” Specifically, they “appear as lights in the world” (Philippians 2:15). He states this after inviting them to embrace a life fully given over to Jesus’ way of life.

It seems that Paul is saying that because they belong to Jesus, because they have come to share his life, they are, in fact, lights in the world. But he in calling them to give themselves more intentionally to this life. Why? Perhaps to cultivate their “light-ness.”

As I listen to Paul’s words, it seems to me he touches on a number of things that hinder might hinder my “light-ness.” He writes:

Do all things without grumbling or disputing; so that you will prove yourselves to be blameless and innocent, children of God above reproach in the midst of a crooked and perverse generation, among whom you appear as lights in the world, holding fast the word of life . . . (Philippians 2:14-16)

So, when in the midst of the challenges of life, as I am growing into this life Jesus shares with me, when I grumble and complain, my “light-ness” is diminished. When the way I handle living in relationship with others is more about me than about Jesus, I can appear to be little more than a dim bulb . . . the light is not shining very brightly. It isn’t evident that I am a child of God and that Jesus is working his life out in and through me when all that is coming out of mouth is the kind of bickering and complaining that those who don’t know Jesus are all too familiar with.

But it is not just my demeanor that might get in the way of my “light-ness.” Paul refers to ”holding fast the word of life.” The expression “word of life” in Paul’s writings is a reference to the Gospel–the message of truth about who Jesus is and what he came to do in rescuing people from their sin and bringing them in to life with God. And when I do not hold on to the message of the Gospel tightly–holding fast the word of life–than my “lightness” diminishes. I might be relatively free from grumbling, but if the message being broadcast from my lips and my life isn’t focused clearly on Jesus and who he is and what he has done and what he is doing, than I can appear to be little more than a dim bulb . . . the light is not shining very clearly.

This world in which we live is a dark place. Jesus intends to draw people out of the darkness and into his life. And those who already know him are privileged to be lamps, lights, that help others move from darkness into that light. And we share in that by being–by his grace and through his Spirit–”light.”

When I spend my days grumbling, it’s hard for others to see what I live for. The light is dim. When I am bitter about how Jesus is shaping me to love and care for others, it’s hard for others to see that there is a different kind of life available. The light is dim. When I “buck up” and live without real complaint but without any real message of life, no one sees in and through my life a witness to the light they so desperately need. The light is dim.

I don’t want to be a dim bulb. I want to live in a way that enlightens the world around me. So . . .

Enough of the grumbling. Enough with the pushing against what Jesus is doing. And more of making much of Jesus who is doing this incredible thing in me of making me like him!

The Proof is in the . . .

I am staggered when I really catch a glimpse of just what it is that God is doing in and through and for people. That God is even interested in “messing with” our lives is amazing; but that he does such good and gracious and kind and wise things . . . it can take my breath away.

It seems to me that such thoughts often must have gone through Paul’s mind. He finds such outrageous and deep and carry-me-away kind of joy in Jesus because of what God is doing in and through him. Just contemplating the grace of God that reaches him–reaches us–in and through Jesus seems to stir waves of joy in Paul.

That’s a bit of what I taste when I read Philippians. I hear and see and savor Paul’s joy in Jesus . . . and I long to experience if for myself all the more. And, because of God’s work in us, we can.

Paul says that God, having begun this amazing transformative work in us, will bring it to completion (Phil. 1:6). And he explained that as we give ourselves to a Jesus-kind of life, the transformation does not come because of our effort or competency or spiritual acumen; we are transformed because God, himself, is working in us to produce both the longing and the outcome (Phil. 2:12-13).

We are undergoing grace-based, Jesus-produced, Spirit-empowered, Gospel-centered, God-glorifying transformation. All who have come to Jesus to find life are undergoing a life transformation by his doing. Amazing. And in the process, how do we live?

Well, for me, at times it is clear that I really don’t “get it.” I lose sight of what God is doing. And you know how I know (and how others who know me know)? It becomes evident in my grumbling.

Having recounted the life-saving journey and sacrifice of Jesus to rescue us (Phil. 2:1-11) and having invited us into a participation in that life and having affirmed to us that our being transformed into partners in that life is God’s gracious doing, Paul then writes:

Do all things without grumbling or disputing; so that you will prove yourselves to be blameless and innocent, children of God above reproach in the midst of a crooked and perverse generation, among whom you appear as lights in the world . . . (Philippians 2:14-15)

Paul calls us to live like Jesus. He tells us God is working to reproduce Jesus’ own servant-character in us. He cheers us on to give into that process because God is working it in and through us. And then he says . . . “So, stop griping!”

Such a needed word! In my heart of hearts, I really do want to grow up to look like Jesus. I can think of no more glorious or wonderful ”destination” than to share in the life and ministry and character of the Beloved of God. But just as God begins to shape and mold, nudge and press, trim and change what doesn’t quite look like Jesus in me, I wince and complain, I whine and grumble.

But Paul says that if I would only get on with living this life “without grumbling” I would “prove” to be a child of God. So does that mean that we, somehow, “earn” our standing as children of God by maintaining a good attitude? Of course not. Adoption into God’s family comes by grace through Jesus alone. We are his children by his doing, not our own.

The idea behind the word “prove” is not “make to be” but closer to “show to be.” We don’t make ourselves to become the beloved children of God by refraining from grumbling as God is transforming us, but we do make it evident that we are, in fact, his children when we graciously embrace and welcome his re-creating us in Jesus’ image without all the griping.

If we really believe that we are his, if we really embrace his love for us, if we really understand that Jesus has made us accepted and acceptable before God, if we really grasped that what he is doing is making us “better” by reproducing the character of the Son in us, than no matter what comes into our lives, whatever comes our way, we would “do all things without grumbling.” We wouldn’t complain about how poorly we are being treated but would like for the opportunity, in every moment, to yield to life-changing grace. 

We are his children by Jesus’ doing. And the proof? What “testifies” to our status as children? When we embrace the life he is working in us without grumbling.

No Big Deal

At least, that might be how we read it. There are some things in the Gospels, recording what Jesus said or did, that at first read might come across as no big deal. But seeing as the Gospel writer (under the direction of the divine Spirit) chose to write what he did, he must have thought it mattered. So, what at first might seem like no big deal, might really matter in some notable way . . . if we only pay attention.

I have thought that way about the prelude to Jesus’ “triumphal entry” as recorded by Mark. Jesus is making his way to Jerusalem. He has told his closest friends and followers that he will be going to Jerusalem, that he will be handed over to the authorities, and that he will be put to death. Pretty troubling, pretty startling stuff. And still Jesus is making his way to the city.

What happens as they approach the city? Jesus sends a few on a short errand. He tells them:

Go into the village opposite you, and immediately as you enter it, you will find a colt tied there, on which no one yet has ever sat; untie it and bring it here. If anyone says to you, “Why are you doing this?” you say, “The Lord has need of it”; and immediately he will send it back here. (Mark 11:2-3)

And what do they discover when these two on-assignment disciples get into town?

They found what Jesus told them they would find. They are questioned by a bystander as Jesus said they might. They replied just as Jesus told them to reply. And they were allowed to take the colt just as Jesus had explained.

But this doesn’t really compare to changing water into wine or walking on water or healing a blind man or raising a dead man! This is hardly the kind of reputation building miracle that Jesus has been known to do. So why do this? Why send the two? Why did Jesus not just go himself, get on the colt, and ride into town? It’s not big deal! It seems like a whole lot of trouble for such a small thing . . . or does it?

Think about what it must have been like for these two who went. They enter a town neighboring Jerusalem. Things would have been chaotic and busy; this is festival time in Jerusalem and its surroundign districts. Lots of activity. Lots of people. What do you think the two discussed as they headed out on their excursion? Perhaps . . .

How will we ever find a single un-ridden colt in this kind of chaos?

What is the chance of us coming across an unused colt at this busy time?

When we find the animal, do you really think the owner will just let us walk away with it?

But what they do find is exactly what Jesus tells them they would find. And the only ones who are in on what is going on are the disciples, the closest friends and followers of Jesus. And this means that what happened must have been, to some degree, for their benefit.

So, what does it all mean? Why does Jesus do this?

Maybe there is a subtle, but critical, message in this assignment. Walking back with the colt in tow, what might those two have been thinking? When they get back to their companions, what would they have said? Maybe . . .

Everything happened just like Jesus said it would!

That’s right! That’s absolutely right. Everything, down to the small details, happened exactly as Jesus said it would. As his disciples are being prepared for his impending betrayal, trial, crucifixion, death, and resurrection, they need to be reassured that everything is going to happen exactly as Jesus said it would. 

Sure, on the surface, it might look like it was no big deal . . . the “big deal” (his death and resurrection) were on the horizon. But to hold on to Jesus’ words when confronted with the trauma of his death, they needed to be reminded of the truthfulness of all that he said. So, a “little deal” to remind them . . . so that they could endure the big deal of his death and anticipate the big deal of his resurrection.

How kind of Jesus. What a great teacher and friend. He gave them a “little deal” so that they would be better prepared for the bigger deal coming.

And, maybe, he does the same with us.

I wonder, am I paying attention? Are you paying attention? What Jesus is doing in your day, today, right now, might seem like “no big deal.” But no lesson he is teaching is anything less than life changing, nothing short of essential, if we only would pay attention.

All In

I’m still thinking about Bartimaeus. He was the blind man who was healed by Jesus as he was making his way to Jerusalem. Bartimaeus heard Jesus was passing by. And what then happened intrigues me (Mark 10:46-52).

Bartimaeus cried out. And the crowd tried to silence him.

So, Bartimaeus cried out loudly all the more. And the crowd realized that Jesus was calling to him.

So, Bartimaeus sprang up and ran toward where he thought Jesus was. And the crowd apparently stopped hindering him.

And, Bartimaeus threw off his garment to make it to Jesus. And although that seems like no big deal, something huge is happening here.

Each step along the way, Bartimaeus is making it clear: I’m not going back!

He calls to Jesus for mercy and will not be silenced. He leaps up without the presence of mind to get someone to lead him to Jesus (and bring him back if things don’t turn out as well as he might be hoping). And he leaves his outer garment–a garment that would have served as his overcoat, his rain poncho, his bed roll, and more. To leave that behind (particular for a blind man running through a throng of people crowded along a busy road, bustling with traffic surrounding the festival that was beginning) was . . . well, risky and cavalier and foolish . . . or maybe it was a profound response of faith.

Bartimaeus gives ever indication that if Jesus will but speak to him that he will not be going back to his old way of life. He apparently is clear that Jesus can change him. He apparently is intent of availing himself of the grace of God he anticipates finding in Jesus. And he apparently is a bit kamikaze in how he approaches all of this; Bartimaeus is all in, full bore, into the deep end of the pool, full speed ahead, nothing held back.

And Jesus commends his faith. Bartimaeus abandoned himself to Jesus. And Jesus commends that. And Jesus changes Bartimaeus.

Just picture it! A blind man beggar leaving his stuff behind to run through a crowd in hopes to find the voice of the one calling to him because he knows . . . he knows . . . that if he can just get to the One calling his life will be changed!

And so I think . . . What about me? As Jesus passes by, am I “all in”? Will I shout and cry out and leap and run and leave stuff behind just so that I can get to him, certain that he will change me?

Seeing and Then . . .

As Mark tells us about the life and ministry of Jesus, he is telling us the truth. He is not making up stories or embellishing accounts of Jesus’ activities. We are not reading myths or fanciful tales when we read the Gospels; we are reading eye-witness kinds of reports of who Jesus is and what he did when he walked the countryside of Palestine.

But under the inspiration of the Spirit and shaped by the kinds of things that Jesus said and did, Mark is still telling us what he does with a view to making some point. His recording of the life and ministry of Jesus is not a random collection of disconnected thoughts. Mark is writing to tell us something, some specific things, about Jesus. His words, the way he arranges his account, the kinds of things he emphasizes–all this helps us not miss what Mark wants to highlight for us.

For example, reflecting on the exchange that Jesus had with the rich ruler (Mark 10:17-22), the way Mark summarizes what the young man did is more than just a statement of fact. Having heard Jesus’ invitation to disposes himself of what was keeping him from pursuing life, the young man was called by Jesus to “follow.” Throughout Mark, that idea of “following” Jesus is one of discipleship, entering into an apprenticeship with Jesus, relationally connecting with Jesus and finding him to be the real center of life. And Mark tells us: “Disheartened . . . [the young man] went away sorrowful” (Mark 10:22). The man didn’t end up following.

But this is different with the account of blind Bartimaeus (Mark 10:46-52). Jesus meets this man as he is on the way to Jerusalem, to face his death. The blind man cries out. Jesus invites the man to come close. And, having ascertained from the man what he really wanted, Jesus healed him. Notice how Mark recounts this:

And Jesus said to him, “Go your way; your faith has made you well.” And immediately he recovered his sight and followed him on the way. (Mark 10:52).

Jesus heals Bartimaeus and, in doing this, encourages him to “go [his] way.” That is, go from here following the path you want to follow. And Bartimaeus, having recovered his sight, does just that. He goes the way he wants to go–but where he wants to go is with Jesus, wherever Jesus is going.

The rich ruler is given all he needs to truly see (spiritually), and catching a glimpse of that he turns awayfrom Jesus and goes his own way . . . away from Jesus. Bartimaeus is given all he needs to truly see (physically), and once seeing he turns toward Jesus and goes his own way . . . following Jesus. I think the way Mark tells us these two accounts is intended to illustrate a particular point.

If you let Jesus touch you, open your eyes, help you see, meet your need, will that be enough for you to then follow him? Will you, seeing, join him “on the way”?

Once you see, what then?