There is One Main Thing

What matters most? Whether it is in family life, in our work experience, in raising our kids, or hitting a golf ball, or investing for the future, or studying for a test, or wooing a sweetheart, we want to know what matters most. We don’t want to waste time and effort in dabbling in things that really don’t matter much–at least most of the time most of us don’t want to give ourselves to trifles!

But in the busy-ness of life and the challenges that we face ever day, I can get stretched thin, spread out, and end up giving myself to lots of things, piddling with lots of “matters,” and end up wondering–at the end of the day–if what I gave myself to really did matter much at all.

I wonder if that is what prompted the question asked by a scribe one afternoon, while Jesus was teaching in the Temple. Various people had come to Jesus with various questions. Most of the question-askers were less than sincere; they had already made up their minds about Jesus and were simply hoping to create trouble for him. But one scribe came with what was, seemingly, a critical question:

“What commandment is the foremost of all?” (Mark 12:28)

What is this man asking? He wants to know what matters most. He is asking about what the one main thing is. If everything else gets overlooked or neglected, he is interested on the one critical piece that should not fall by the wayside. It’s not that any of the commandments of God could or should be overlooked; but the man is asking about priorities, about what matters most.

And Jesus’ answer is both profound and simple:

“The foremost is this, ‘Hear, O Israel! The Lord our God is one Lord; and you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength.’” (Mark 11:29-30)

One of the things that is so remarkable about this is what Jesus doesn’t say the main thing is. Given the way so many religious people live, you would think that the most important thing was . . .

You shall work for the Lord your God or

You shall serve the Lord your God or

You shall give to the Lord your God or . . .

Well, just about anything but Jesus’ call to have a passionate, purposeful, and volitional affect-rich love for God!

The main thing, according to Jesus, is about my heart for God . . . and not, primarily, my “doing” for God. The main “commandment” is to have God as the object of my greatest delight and passion. The main thing is to have God, himself, as the main thing in my heart.

How easy it is for me to substitute seemingly good but inferior “main things” into life. Doing nice things for others is nice, but it isn’t the main thing. Maintaining some regular “religious” habits might be helpful, but it isn’t the main thing. Even reading Scripture makes sense, but it isn’t the main thing.

For Jesus, there is just one main thing: Love God with all that you are. Everything else will flow from that.

Simple, profound, life-changing, challenging, sweet, encouraging, freeing, provocative, compelling. The main thing is having God as the main thing in my heart and living that out.

I’m going to have to think more on this. I get so easily distracted from the main thing.

Love God!

Living Commendably

What gets your attention? What elicits from you approval or praise for another? What do you commend in others?

I think that I tend to appreciate and express appreciation for the things I see in others that I have come to value. If I long to live frugally, I applaud another’s ability to maintain a budget and count pennies well. If raising kids well matters to me, I will sit up and take notice when others’ children are well-behaved and gracious and kind.

So, what does catch your attention? What do you commend? That will tell others–and clarify for yourself–what you value most.

I see this idea in Paul’s writings. In a previous post I reflected on Paul’s presentation of Timothy and Epaphroditus as two brothers who were, in fact, living with “this attitude which was . . . in Christ Jesus” (Philippians 2:5). It might seem that to live like Jesus is unattainable, but Paul offers tangible and real examples in two men that the Philippians knew. And what is worth noting are the things he commends.

I’m just thinking about Timothy, today. There’s enough there to serve as food for thought. Paul notes:

He is genuinely concerned for the welfare of others (Philippians 4:20).

He intentionally pursues Jesus’ agenda and not his own (Philippians 4:21).

He has lived consistently enough to have “proven worth” (Philippians 4:22).

Paul commends these things because they are what Paul, himself, values. And Paul values these things because they are the kinds of things that enable someone–in this case, Timothy–to share in Jesus’ life. I wonder if Paul were writing about me whether he could or would say such things.

This morning I was talking with a good friend about how we live out this life with Jesus and how easy it is to pull back from genuinely giving ourselves in compassionate care for others. That’s just so . . . messy! To really care for another will lead to involving myself in their struggles, getting under their load, setting aside my rationalizations as to why I am too busy to partner with them in their need. In short, to really care would move me out of my complacency and self-seeking and draw me into their lives. So, I am not sure that Paul would commend me for genuinely caring for others. I care conditionally.

But I do want–often, occasionally, sometimes–to live for Jesus. I am interested in the things He values and prioritizes . . . some times, most of the time, on my good days. But as I think about that, I tend to give myself to the pursuit of Jesus’ agenda when it just happens to coincide with my own agenda. That is, I am glad to give myself to what Jesus wants as long as I have pre-qualified what He wants as something that falls in line with what I already have decided I want. So, I am not sure Paul would commend me for diligently seeking after what Jesus wants. I seek self-servingly.

And the result is that I have a somewhat mixed track record; it’s not that there is no evidence of the work of grace in my life. I think that, by His doing, there are things in me and in my life that are evidence of His presence. But “proven worth”? That might be a bit iffy. I am sporadic; I move forward in this life in a jerky, spasmodic way. And I think that has a tendency to undermine the “proven-ness;” the lack of consistency raises questions about what really has been “proven.” So, I am not sure Paul would commend me for my evident and settled worth. I meander.

Well, what then? Having seen Paul’s picture of Timothy and heard his commendation, what should I do? Throw up my hands and confess that I am not a Timothy (nor a Paul . . . nor am I seemingly very good at living like Jesus)? I don’t think that is what Paul intended (nor the Spirit intended) for either the Philippians or for us.

I think the commendation of Timothy is a way of holding out to us an invitation. Knowing that God is at work in us to bring to completion what he has started (Philippians 1:6; 2:12-13), Paul is just reminding us of where God is taking us.

He is drawing us, by grace and through the Spirit and because of Jesus, into a life of genuine compassionate care for others. And God is drawing us, by grace and through the Spirit and because of Jesus, into a life that is purposefully and fully caught up with what is at the center of Jesus’ own life. And God is drawing us, by grace and through the Spirit and because of Jesus, into a consistency and steadfastness that we will grow more and more to give evidence of his work in us. 

That is what God is doing. And that is commendable!

It’s More Than Taxes

As I read Jesus’ interaction with others, if I am not careful I can overlook what he is saying and never find myself being addressed directly by his words or by the text of Scripture. It isn’t that every passage of the Gospels speak directly to me in the same way, but I too readily read myself out of the text and find ways to dismiss the implications of what Jesus is saying for my own life.

At times, I listen to the exchange Jesus has with someone, and I fail to pay attention to the real issue being addressed. By merely reading on the surface, I overlook what Jesus might want to say to me. But . . . he does keep speaking. That is good; that is his grace.

I see this in the way we read Jesus’ exchange with the religious leaders in Mark 12:13-17. Mark tells me:

Then they sent some of the Pharisees and Herodians to Him in order to trap Him in a statement. They came and said to Him, “Teacher, we know that You are truthful and defer to no one; for You are not partial to any, but teach the way of God in truth. Is it lawful to pay a poll-tax to Caesar, or not? Shall we pay or shall we not pay?” But He, knowing their hypocrisy, said to them, “Why are you testing Me? Bring Me a denarius to look at.” They brought one. And He said to them, “Whose likeness and inscription is this?” And they said to Him, “Caesar’s.” And Jesus said to them, “Render to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s, and to God the things that are God’s.” And they were amazed at Him.

I’ve lightly skipped over this passage way too often. And I have heard it taught in ways that leave me relatively untouched. The idea? “Make sure you pay your taxes! Give to the government what is appropriate.” (Or some such application.) And, seeing as I dutifully fill out my tax returns each year, I remain untouched by these words.

But is this really what Jesus is addressing? (And what the Pharisees are asking?)

Mark tells us that the question was asked to trap Jesus; this wasn’t a legitimate question about paying taxes. The question comes on the heels of the parable of the vineyard, where Jesus was making the point that the religious authorities were not to think of themselves as “owners” but as “stewards” or “tenants.” There was a heart problem, a “way-I-think-about-life” problem in the souls of these people. And, it seems to me that that is the issue Jesus is addressing.

So, what is Jesus’ point? He doesn’t really resolve the question of whether taxes should be paid or not. But he does make one massive point: Give God what God deserves (and don’t give to men anything more than they deserve). And it is when I hear this, that I realize that Jesus is speaking to me. I can’t so easily dismiss this idea.

What appropriately should be “rendered” to God? If Jesus is saying something like, “Well, the tax issue is one thing; just make sure that you are giving to God what he deserves!”, than the real questions are:

What does God deserve from my life? Am I giving to God what he deserves?

It doesn’t take more than a moment–once I’ve heard these words–to realize that they speak to the very center of my soul, addressing the way I do life daily!

I can’t honestly say that I move through my day conscious of those questions and seeking to answer them with regard to how I spend my day, my hours, my moments, my dollars and pennies, my talents, my gifts, my efforts.

The exchange Jesus has, as recorded here, is about so much more than taxes. It really is about what is at the center of my life . . . and the center of your life.

So I think . . .

Would someone watching my life over the course of a day or a week or a month conclude that I am appropriately giving to God all that he deserves? And, if not . . .

 

I Could Never . . . !

As reflected in earlier posts on Philippians, Paul invites the believers in Philippi to a wonderful and high calling: Have the same mind, the same attitude about life and loving, that Jesus did (Phil. 2:1-8). The invitation is not simply to do the kinds of things that Jesus did (which could be reduced in the minds of some to doing “random acts of kindness”), but to genuinely experience such transformation through the Spirit that one comes to think–to approach life–the way Jesus did and does. It’s about thinking like Jesus thinks, and valuing what Jesus values, and living for the things Jesus lives for. And that is a staggering thought.

Having extended this invitation, Paul encourages these followers and friends of Jesus to give themselves entirely to this call (Phil. 2:12-15). He really expects that they not only will want to live this way, but because God is the one who is working in and through them, they will be able to live this way (Phil. 2:13). And that is a provocative idea.

I wonder if those who first heard those words have the same reaction that I do . . . “I could never live that way!” I find myself saying things like . . .

How could anyone ever expect to really live like Jesus?

There is just so much “stuff” in me . . . I will never get there.

It seems like an impossibly high calling–it’s beyond my reach.

But then my eyes fall on the next few verses. And I hear Paul speak of Timothy and Epaphroditus. They are men personally unfamiliar to me, although they would have been known to the Philippians. And what catches my attention is how Paul describes them.

He says of Timothy (Phil. 2:19-24) that he “will genuinely be concerned for [their] welfare” and that he does not “seek after [his] own interest” but “[the interests] of Christ Jesus” and that he faithfully served with Paul. He writes of Epaphroditus (Phil. 2:25-29) that he cared for others to the point of deep longing and that he labored “to the point of death” for the benefit of others and that he “risked his life to complete what was lacking” when it came to loving service.

So, what is Paul doing? He is reminding the Philippians (and, in doing that, pointing out to us) a couple of men who, in fact, were growing to live the very kind of self-giving, others-focused, Jesus-like life that Paul was calling for. He presents two “case studies” of people–flesh and blood, real human, just-like-us, people–who were coming to live lives characterized by “having this attitude in themselves that was just like the attitude of Jesus Himself” (to paraphrase Phil. 2:5).

What this means is that my insistence that “I could never” grow to live the kind of Jesus-influenced life Paul holds out to us is just not true. The invitation is not hollow, it is not beyond reach, it is not unattainable. It just may be that all too few of those who know and follow Jesus really come to grasp that Jesus’ intention really is that we grow up to think like him, value what he values, live for what he lives for, live the way he lived . . . and still lives!

Paul extends the invitation–rooted in Jesus’ own call. Maybe it’s time to stop insisting that “I could never . . . “

And You Said Your Name Was . . .?

It seems like every year there are more and more award shows. People get awards for all kinds of “achievements”–even when the achievements aren’t about things that really matter. But we are enamored by the stars, the successes, the famous. And, sadly, that kind of thinking sometimes bleeds into the church.

The Christian world has its stars, as well. There are those who appear to us to be something of a “step above” the rest of us who are seeking to follow Christ. There are the superstars of the faith, and then lots of those of us who are just “average Joe” and “average Josephine” Christ-followers.

But I really don’t believe that thinking is healthy or appropriate. And part of what drives that thinking is the kind of thing I see in Acts.

Yes, in Luke’s account of the growing church, there are “big name” Christians. People like Paul and Peter, Stephen and Philip, get our attention. We can become improperly impressed with these disciples and what Jesus did through them by the Spirit. Because, you see, some of the most amazing stuff Jesus did in those early days he did through un-named Christians.

The Gospel took root in the city of Antioch. That was a Gentile city, far beyond the borders of Palestine where Jesus spent his time ministering. Antioch, we are told by Luke, is the first place that the followers of Jesus were called “Christians.” That means this was the first city where the followers of Jesus came to be so noticed by the general public that they had to be identified with their own “title.” (And, when that title was first used, it was more a dis-respectful naming than we tend to think of it.) And according to Acts 13, the community of disciples of Jesus in Antioch became the first “missionary sending” church. That’s all pretty amazing. The first real Gentile church; the first community of faith to wear the name “Christian;” the first missionary sending church.

And who planted that church? Peter? Paul? Maybe Philip? No . . .

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)

Jesus’ hand was upon a few scattered, un-named followers of his, who happened to end up in Antioch and simply tried to be who Jesus wanted them to be in a strange and new place. They weren’t some of the named apostles; they aren’t identified as prophets or named as prominent church planters or pastors. They were a few “basic” disciples who–when the opportunity arose because of the bad stuff happening in Jerusalem–lived the kind of life Jesus intended for them to live. And Jesus blessed that! Yet no one apparently thought to ask, “And you said your name was . . . ?”

And the first Gentile church is planted. And the followers of Jesus who became part of that church are the first to be named “Christian.” And that community of faith becomes a dynamic missionary sending, world-reaching living organism of faith.

Maybe Acts isn’t so much about the named guys we meet in the book; Luke just tells us the names because some might have known them. Maybe Acts isn’t really about some who breath a rarer air than the “average” Christian; Luke simply is telling us what happened as believers in Jesus sought to live out their lives.

Maybe Acts is really about what Jesus does through the lives of those who know him as they depend on the Spirit and are given over to living for him. Maybe Acts is more about people like you and me . . . .

And you said your name was . . . ?

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.

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!