Isn’t it Obvious?

I know that Jesus is brilliant and kind and gracious. Clearly he knows what he is doing and does what he does in love and wisdom. But at first read, sometimes the questions he asks strike me as, well, pretty crazy!

One of those seemingly crazy questions comes in John 5, when Jesus travels to the pool of Bethesda in the city of Jerusalem (John 5:1-9; you might want to read the account before continuing).

This particular pool was considered to have healing properties–at least when the waters were “stirred.” It was thought that an angel agitated the waters from time to time and the first to enter those moving waters would be healed. So, as you can imagine, the area around the pool was littered with the sick, the diseased, the deformed, the needy. All were waiting for the stirring of the water. Those who were blind would have had to have someone watching with them. The lame or the bed-ridden would have to have others ready to push them in when the water was stirred. A chaotic, crazy, desperate picture.

Jesus walks into that scene and approaches one lame man who had been crippled for thirty-eight years and had been lying there, in that condition, for a long time (John 5:5-6). And Jesus asks him a question:

“Do you wish to get well?” (John 5:6)

I can almost hear the man’s eyes roll around in his head as he stares incredulously at Jesus. “No, I’m just really happy to be lying here crippled among all these diseased and deformed people! I’ve grown so accustomed to the stench that I can’t imagine waking without the aroma of decaying flesh filling the air!” Now, the man doesn’t respond quite that way (although I might have).

The sick man answered him, “Sir, I have no man to put me into the pool when the water is stirred up, but while I am coming, another steps down before me.” (John 5:7)

Why would Jesus ask this man that particular question? Does it not, on the surface, appear to be a foolish, silly question? Why would the lame man be there unless he really wanted to be made whole?

And I begin to think. Sometimes we can get so accustomed to our particular “affliction” that we find ourselves defined by that. We see ourselves in a particular light based on what we have struggled with or are struggling through. And to be healed or delivered or set free would really radically change our lives.

The lame man would no longer be able to think of himself the same way if he got up and walked. No freedom to beg from others. No longer on the receiving end of almsgiving. His days would change. Those who cared for him might turn to others. He would have to find work. So it is a legitimate question: Do you really want to get well?

I think that is the kind of question Jesus asks all of us at various times in our journey with him. We find ourselves angry or frustrated with a particular situation. We are unhappy with how things are playing out. We want someone to help us but there doesn’t seem to be anyone there to “put us into the pool.” We can grow content with the discontentment, subtly enjoying the pity and the comfort others extend to us when they see our distress. And Jesus comes and asks, “Do you want to get well? Would you like to be healed? Can I change your life?”

That is a scary, challenging, eye-opening, life-shaping question. Am I really interested in having Jesus step into my brokenness and lameness and bring health and healing and wholeness? If does that, I won’t be able to just lie around, spiritually speaking, any longer. I would have to get up and get on with this journey with him.

Can you hear him asking?

He Wasn’t Rude to His Mother

The Gospels provide us only a few, simple glimpses into Jesus’ growing up years. Even though we might want to know more, we only get a few snapshots. Nevertheless, it is clear that from the very earliest days God was working in and through Jesus and he did live in a good relationship with his parents as he grew in “wisdom and stature, and in favor with God and men” (Luke 2:51-52).

John tells us that Jesus’ first public miracle was at a wedding feast held in Cana, in Galilee (John 2:1-12). Jesus was no longer a child. As a guest, with some of his growing band of disciples, Jesus has an exchange with his mother, Mary. The wedding celebration would have been a multi-day event and before it was over, the wine had run out. Mary, realizing this, speaks to Jesus, “They have no wine.”

We aren’t told why she says this to him. It might be she feels because he came and brought his disciples, that he should feel some responsibility for the wine shortage. Maybe. Perhaps she just was one of those people who feel badly for the misfortune of others and wanted to help. Maybe. Some suggest that Mary is hoping or thinking that Jesus might do something miraculous to meet the need. Unlikely. There is nothing in the Gospels that suggest she would have had any reason to anticipate such a thing.

At best we can say that Mary brought the need to Jesus’ attention and anticipated he might share her concern and, perhaps, do something. (Go buy more wine? Run home and get some?)

It’s Jesus’ response that’s intriguing: “Woman, what does that have to do with us? My hour has not yet come.” (John 2:4) Jesus asks a question.

The first thing to note is that Jesus addressing her as “woman” is not disrespectful. That would have been an appropriate way to address his mother, even if it was a bit formal. He was not putting her down by speaking that way. But the question is provocative.

Jesus uses a Hebrew idiomatic expression. Literally, he asks “What is it to me and to you?” Apparently, Jesus is not really waiting for Mary to answer, but he does ask the question to communicate something to her. He isn’t just being rude and dismissive to her. So, what is he doing?

By affirming that his “hour has not yet come” Jesus is saying that he both understands the timing of his life and ministry and that he is “on schedule.” He will do what he must, what he should, when the time is right. Understanding that might help us understand his question to Mary.

When she brings the need to his attention, he responds by asking, “What is that to me and to you?” The sense may well be, “I know that this matters to you, but why do you think your awareness of the need means I must act?” It isn’t that Mary is more attentive or caring than Jesus–it’s so very clear from the rest of the Gospel that Jesus is very aware and attentive to the needs of those around him. But, he responds to those needs and attends to those with the needs as he sees fit.

It isn’t that I can’t come to Jesus with the concerns I have about the needs and situations I see around me. But this question, addressed to his mother, reminds me that even in doing that Jesus is not at my beck and call. Jesus does meet needs, Jesus does loving care–more than I do, in fact. But Jesus does not jump when I say jump.

Was That Enough?

Questions can guide a discussion, encourage reflection, deflect opposition, uncover a secret, stir animosity, invite the timid, undo the proud.

In his exchanges with others, Jesus often utilizes questions. I am not suggesting that he manipulates conversations or that he is sneaky in what he does. Jesus, in drawing others to faith and engaging them in genuine relationship, often seasons his conversations with questions. So, I am watching and trying to understand something about Jesus through the questions he asks.

Early in his public ministry, Jesus begins to gather a few followers to join him, participate with him in what he is going to do. Philip is one of those he invites. And Philip went and found another, Nathanael.

Philip found Nathanael and said to him, “We have found Him of whom Moses in the Law and also the Prophets wrote — Jesus of Nazareth, the son of Joseph.” Nathanael said to him, “Can any good thing come out of Nazareth?” Philip said to him, “Come and see.”  Jesus saw Nathanael coming to him, and said of him, “Behold, an Israelite indeed, in whom there is no deceit!” Nathanael said to him, “How do you know me?” Jesus answered and said to him, “Before Philip called you, when you were under the fig tree, I saw you.” Nathanael answered Him, “Rabbi, you are the Son of God; you are the King of Israel.” Jesus answered and said to him, “Because I said to you that I saw you under the fig tree, do you believe? You will see greater things than these.” And he said to him, “Truly, truly, I say to you, you will see the heavens opened and the angels of God ascending and descending on the Son of Man.” (John 1:45-51)

When Nathanael initially responds to Philip, he does it with a question. Nathanael is “dissing” Nazareth; the region did not have a good reputation in Jesus’ day. And in Nathanael’s first exchange with Jesus, he asks Jesus a question rooted in his surprise at what Jesus has said to him. So, Jesus affirms that he, in fact, saw Nathanael before Philip found him. And in light of that affirmation, Nathanael makes a startling confession: “You are the Son of God; you are the King of Israel.”

Does Nathanael fully understand what he is saying? It seems unlikely at this point in his experience with Jesus. Does Nathanael fully grasp what it means for Jesus to be the true “Son of God . . . King of Israel”? Highly unlikely–and this is evident in how slow he is (and the other disciples are) in grasping what Jesus tells them in the subsequent months. Nevertheless, Nathanael has seen something in Jesus that is compelling, and Nathanael responds to what he sees.

This prompts Jesus’ question. ““Because I said to you that I saw you under the fig tree, do you believe?” How can we understand this question? It seems that there are two dimensions to this question.

First, Jesus may well be asking. “Is that all it takes, Nathanael, for you to make such an astounding confession? Have you drawn a final and full conclusion about who I am simply because I could see you before we physically met?”

Jesus might also be raising another issue in this question. “Do you really believe, Nathanael, having been impressed by me in what I said to you? Are you really giving into, coming to trust me and rely on me, at this point in time?”

In other words, Jesus’ questions raises the issues of whether Nathanael has found sufficient evidence to reliably identify Jesus and whether, in so identifying him, he is willing to abandon himself to Jesus in faith. Jesus takes Nathanael’s confession at face value, but invites him to go further. Jesus is inviting Nathanael to “keep going” through the question he asks.

It occurs to me that Jesus does this with me as well. I see something in him, something that impresses me. And I boldly insist: “I get it! I see you. I know who you are. I know what you’ve come to do.” And Jesus graciously meets me there and invites me to go farther: “You see? Really? That’s wonderful. Have you seen enough? Are you satisfied? Has you seeing been sufficient? Or is there yet a bit more that I could show you that would draw you even deeper into this life with me?”

And Jesus Asked . . .

Have you noticed how a conversation can be shaped by the question that gets asked? (I just did it! I set you thinking along a certain line of thought by asking a question.) Because of that, the question asked can often drive the answer. Just by asking the question or the kind of question, an agenda might be set, an endpoint might be brought into view, a purpose could come into focus.

That makes it particularly interesting to listen as Jesus asks questions. I’ve noticed a few that he asked and thought it might be intriguing to listen–and learn–as he asks questions of others. Diving in to the Gospel of John, the first words John attributes to Jesus come in the form of a question.

Again the next day John [the Baptist] was standing with two of his disciples, and he looked at Jesus as He walked, and said, “Behold, the Lamb of God!” The two disciples heard him speak, and they followed Jesus. And Jesus turned and saw them following, and said to them, “What do you seek?” They said to Him, “Rabbi (which translated means Teacher), where are You staying?” He said to them, “Come, and you will see.” (John 1:35-39)

John (the Gospel writer) tells us that John (the one doing the baptizing and preaching) had called attention to the one who was going to come after him. Seeing Jesus, John (the baptizer) pointed Jesus out to those who were hanging out with him and declared, “Behold, the Lamb of God.” Did those who heard him know what he was saying? Did they understand the implications of John’s word? We don’t know for sure. But we do know that John’s announcement was intriguing enough that a couple of his disciples decided to follow Jesus–not in a “come, follow me” call to full discipleship, but more of a “let’s go check this out” kind of way.

And Jesus asks them a question: “What do you seek?”

What are the implications inherent in that question? Jesus is suggesting that they are pursuing something; they are following him for some reason. Jesus is inviting them to reflect on what they really are after, what they really want. Jesus is implying that their following him is about not just physically following him but finding something. And Jesus seems to be fine with their pursuit . . . even when they answer his question in a seemingly superficial way. “Uh . . . we’re just wondering . . . ah . . . like, do you have a place to sleep tonight?”

Unsure of what they really want but having some sense that what they are looking for just might be found in Jesus, they are a bit stymied by Jesus’ question. But Jesus still invites them, “Come, and you will see.”

As I listen, it seems to me that Jesus is ok with those who are curious about him, but wants them to reflect on what they are seeking. Jesus is willing to meet the curious where they are, but invites them to let their interest draw them along further. Jesus asks this first question to engage the interested, to draw the curious, to welcome the unsure.

And even though I have been walking with Jesus for a long time, I find that he often asks me the same kind of question (perhaps for the same kinds of reasons): “What do you seek?”

Let’s Not Make Too Much of the Mud

It saddens me. It puzzles me more than a bit. I know that I am at risk of doing it as well, so I want to be cautious and gracious. But I want to think well about Jesus and what he does.

Jesus heals people. Of that I am certain. Jesus changes lives. Many can testify of his presence and power in their lives. What saddens me is when any one of us who has been touched by Jesus end up making too much of the mud. Let me explain.

One day, around Jerusalem, Jesus encountered a blind man (the account is found in John 9). Jesus spat on the ground, mad some mud out of the clay of the ground and his spittle, applied the mud to the blind man’s eyes, and told to him to go and wash in a certain pool. The man went to the pool blind, but he left the pool seeing. Amazing. Wonderful. Jesus did that!

As Jesus was travelling from Jericho, he encountered a blind man (the account is found in Mark 10). Jesus called to him and spoke to him. The man approached Jesus blind, but he began following Jesus seeing. Amazing. Wonderful. Jesus did that!

Jesus heals blinds people. He does that. Literally, he has before and still brings healing to those who cannot physically see. But Jesus also heals spiritually blind people. He does that. He opens the eyes of the heart and those who were dead to God and who could not see spiritual truth end up seeing.

He used mud for one and not for the other. We could discuss why. We could explore the significance of the way he ministered to each. But I don’t think we should make much of the mud. It wasn’t the mud, it was Jesus. I am glad that there didn’t end up being a split among the followers of Jesus–the “mudites” and the “anti-mudites.”

“In order to see, you must have mud applied to your eyes. Then you have to go and wash in the pool. If you don’t do that you aren’t really ever going to see.”

“What are you talking about? All Jesus did was call to me and speak to me. You have to have him call to you and you have to hear him speak to have your eyesight restored.”

Fortunately, no one made much of the mud . . . or the alternative. They made much of Jesus.

The formerly blind man of Jericho ended up following Jesus. The formerly blind man in Jerusalem ended up worship Jesus. That was right. They didn’t make much of the mud.

Some first come to faith at a crusade, hearing the message of the Gospel and encountering Jesus in the proclaimed Word. Some met Jesus going forward to a kneeling bench, responding to an invitation to respond to the tug of the Spirit. But it wasn’t the crusade. It wasn’t the going forward. It was Jesus. He was there. He did that. He saved.

Some find deliverance from struggles in a caring group setting. Some find their hearts dancing in new joy and freedom through an encounter with the Spirit in worship or a time when others prayed over them. But it wasn’t the group. It wasn’t the worship service or style. It was Jesus. He was there. He did that. He brought life and freedom.

I am glad for all the variegated and creative and grace-filled ways our good Jesus rescues people from sin and death. I delight in every story of Jesus’ power and wisdom transforming lives and bringing healing. But I don’t want to make much of the mud.

This book is helpful if it points me to Jesus and I make much of him in it. That teaching is beneficial if it points me to Jesus and I make much of him through it. Some particular spiritual practice is healthy if it points me to Jesus and I find it easier to make much of him because of it.

But let’s not make too much of the mud.