Reacting To What He Says

How good of Jesus to speak to me where I need to grow. He is attentive–both to what he wants to do in and through me and what must be addressed in me for that growth to happen. And, in love, he speaks to what needs to change, he addresses words of grace (although sometimes they come in a direct and provocative way!), and he seeks to draw me more fully into that life I do truly long for.

But I don’t always react well. Sometimes, I push back against what he has to say. And I am not the only one.

After Jesus addressed–in both words and through actions–the corruption that existed in the Temple in his day, he had some “exchanges of words” with the religious authorities. They didn’t like what he was doing; they (obviously) felt somewhat threatened by him. And, so, in a gentle but clear way, he spoke to them. He told a parable . . . about a vineyard and some tenants . . . to help them see themselves more clearly. (You can read the parable in Mark 12:1-12.)

But they pushed back against what he said . . . even though it was what they needed to hear.

Mark tells us:

They were seeking to seize Him, and yet they feared the people, for they understood that He spoke the parable against them. (Mark 12:12)

I notice three things here–three things that sometimes also influence my way of responding to Jesus.

Let’s start with the last thing Mark mentions. They realized that Jesus was speaking to them and about them; he “spoke the parable against them.” They “got it!” They knew Jesus was addressing them, although he did it in parable form.

This is important to see. Even when Jesus might be speaking in parables, even when I am reading Scripture that doesn’t name me in particular, it could well be that Jesus is speaking to me. He might just be addressing something in my life.

Do I “get it”? Am I aware that, often, Jesus is intending to speak to me? Or do I sit in the church service, listening to the Scriptures read and taught, and draw the conclusion that this word is really good for somebody else but probably not for me? Too often I find myself immersed in a passage of Scripture, concluding that that person really needs to hear this . . . overlooking the possibility that Jesus is, actually, intending to speak directly to me.

But what happens once I see that Jesus is speaking to me, about me, addressing me? I often pick up where these religious people were.

They “were seeking to seize him.” They wanted to control him; they wanted to get him on to their turf and get him to see things their way. Wow–that is a bit too much like what I try to do (even though I might be a bit more subtle).

When I do hear Jesus speaking to me–in a message preached or a passage read or in personal time in Scripture or prayer–I try and control what he is saying. I explain it away, I rationalize why these words don’t apply to me, I find excuses why what he is saying can’t really have application to my life or my situation. I do anything but let his words speak plainly into my life. I try to “seize him” by re-interpreting his words so that they don’t address me . . . or don’t address me so clearly.

Does Jesus really want me to forgive the way he forgives me? Certainly he doesn’t intend for me to forgive that person! After all, what that person did was so unforgivable!

He can’t intend for me to go the extra mile in this situation? After all, I risk being taken advantage of by those who don’t really care for me!

Love God with all my heart, mind, soul, and strength?! Surely that is a bit overstated! Jesus must mean that I should live a more balanced life and make some room for God in my life . . . doesn’t he?

And we are also told that the religious leaders “feared the people.” In this case, it left them hamstrung; they wanted to railroad Jesus but weren’t sure they could do that because they were a bit too concerned about appearances. So, although I might not be contemplating quite the same actions as these leaders, I still think this influences me. That is, I am way too concerned about what other people think. I “fear the people” around me rather than simply listening to Jesus and taking him at his word, regardless of the impact.

So, I react to what Jesus says . . . but not always in healthy ways. Worried about what others might think of me, and attempting to diminish the impact and scope of what Jesus is saying to me, I end up pushing away from him. My reaction to his words leave me the poorer, diminishing my experience of life with him.

Maybe the thing to do–rather than react to Jesus’ words–would simply be to listen.

He’ll Start Where You Start

I continue to be impressed with Jesus. And I hope it never stops!

As I watch him in the Gospels, he is so amazing. How he cares, what he does, how he responds, what he says. I am captivated by what I see. And the same is true in my own life and the lives of those around me. As I catch glimpses of him working and serving and caring in life all around me, I am impressed.

I was looking back at how he responded to the religious authorities after he had created a bit of a stir in the Temple. Jesus had seen that something was amiss in the Temple and had “made a statement.” By driving out the money changers and calling people to the priority of prayer, he brought attention to what had been missing and turned the focus on what was most important. But, in the process, he had stirred up a little animosity with the religious establishment. So they confronted him.

As Jesus was walking in the temple, the chief priests and the scribes and the elders came to him, and began saying to him, “By what authority are you doing these things [like stirring up the trouble in the Temple], or who gave you this authority to do these things?” And Jesus said to them, “I will ask you one question, and you answer me, and then I will tell you by what authority I do these things. Was the baptism of John from heaven, or from men? Answer me.” They began reasoning among themselves, saying, “If we say, ‘From heaven,’ he will say, ‘Then why did you not believe him?’ But shall we say, ‘From men’?”–they were afraid of the people, for everyone considered John to have been a real prophet. Answering Jesus, they said, “We do not know.” And Jesus said to them, “Nor will I tell you by what authority I do these things.” (Mark 11:27-33)

Some seem to think that Jesus is just being ornery; they won’t answer him so he won’t respond. But that seems so petty; not at all like Jesus.

I think that Jesus is inviting them to mark out the ground on which they want to stand and, if they will do that, he will join them there, where they chose, and engage in the discussion. That is, he is willing to let them select the terms for the debate and is willing to let them set the parameters for the discussion about authority. He’ll start wherever they want to start the discussion.

Why does Jesus not respond? Why does he drop the subject when the religious leaders are unwilling to explain how they are thinking about authority? Because he wants to meet them “where they’re at,” and if they won’t answer, then they won’t be able to meet!

It’s a simple but fairly provocative idea. And I see it play out in my life at times.

I am frustrated with what I think Jesus intends for me to do or, perhaps, bothered by what he appears to be doing in my life. And I gripe to him. And, it seems as if he asks me: “So, where do you want to begin to discuss this?” And it is right there that I back away. Because I already know what’s likely to happen!

If I define the terms and set the stage then Jesus is going to engage me and I will have to think about my assumptions and biases and I just might end up coming to realize that my position is indefensible and unreasonable. It’s better to not begin the discussion . . . or so I think.

So, I resort to the religious leaders’ trick; I declare:  I don’t know where to start! And, as a result, I end up stuck.

I am thinking that this is not really the best way to pursue life with Jesus . . . although I do adopt the approach from time to time. Maybe it’s time to own up to what I’m troubled about, what the basis is for my concerns, and begin some serious heart-to-heart exchanges with Jesus. What’s there to lose?

Only my bias . . . my misguided thinking . . . my prejudices . . . my misunderstanding . . .

Saying Words They Didn’t Understand

Many are impressed by Jesus. I know I am. Many people speak well of him. I hope my words always make much of him. But, sometimes, being impressed with him and speaking well of him is not enough. It’s not that such things are bad; clearly not. It’s just that if I only settle for being impressed and speaking well of him . . . well . . . I could simply being caught up in some kind of contemporary “jazz” about Jesus and not really “get” what he is up to.

Let me explain . . . by turning back to the Gospel of Mark.

For months and months, Jesus has been teaching and healing and speaking and delivering and extending kindness and doing good. People are impressed and healed and encouraged and instructed and drawn to him. Jesus is, truly, impressive . . . in the best possible sense. And as a result, wherever he goes, crowds follow.

And now, as Mark tells the tale, Jesus is heading into Jerusalem. He has already told his closest followers that trouble is brewing. He has informed them that when they get to the city, he will be delivered over to the authorities, that he will be killed, and that he will “rise again” (although even his closest friends and followers don’t seem to get all of that).

As he approaches the city, two of his disciples, at his request, procure a colt for him to ride in on. And that is what he does.

They brought the colt to Jesus and put their coats on it; and he sat on it. And many spread their coats in the road, and others spread leafy branches which they had cut from the fields. Those who went in front and those who followed were shouting:  “Hosanna!  Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord; blessed is the coming kingdom of our father David;  Hosanna in the highest!” (Mark 11:7-10).

It’s Passover time in Jerusalem. The city if filled with visitors, with worshippers. The atmosphere in the city would have been electric (even in the days before electricity!). The revelers would have been singing songs drawn on the Psalms; they would have been celebrating God’s goodness.

As Jesus approaches, these celebrants break into a new song. They recognize Jesus and they pick up one of the Psalms of the celebration and begin making much of Jesus. They are impressed with him. They speak well of him. They adopt and adapt the language of the Psalms to celebrate him.

But do they really grasp what they are saying? Do they really know what is going on? Do they understand how appropriate the Psalm they sing is, given what is happening?

Apparently not. Within a few short days, this throng has vanished, the celebrants’ attention has been averted, Jesus will be abandoned by even his closest friends and followers, the rejoicing will be forgotten . . . and all the “well-speaking” will have faded away.

It’s not that these were not impressed with Jesus. It is not that they weren’t speaking well of him. It’s only that their awe was apparently somewhat shallow, their celebration a bit too transient, their gracious words short-lived, their grasp of who Jesus really is and the real reason for the grounds for celebration inadequate.

The worship–the “making much of Jesus”–ended when things didn’t turn out as they expected or anticipated. In the moment, they were caught up with him. In the press of others, they let their hearts be turned to him. But they were saying words that they didn’t really understand. And, so, it didn’t last.

This picture pushes on my soul. The temporary revelry forces me to think. The quickly-fading echoes off the walls of the city raises questions in my heart.

Am I saying words I don’t understand? Do I make much of Jesus only because I think he is going to do and be all I want him to be? Do I really grasp who he is and what he has come to do? Do I pick up the songs of the Psalms and turn to worship him because I really do understand? Am I saying words I don’t understand?

I pray that is not the case. I long to make much of him because I do see him for who he is and I do grasp–at least in a small degree–what he is all about.

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!

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?

What Are You Asking?

I have met people who need to be asked.

What I mean is, I have talked with people who–on the surface–appear to be unhappy with their lives and who are asking for help. But, sometimes, when you get beneath the surface, they are quite comfortable with their discomfort. They don’t really want to change, or be changed, or grow, or be different; they just want a bit of comfort or pity or perhaps a martyr’s badge for living the life they are living. They don’t really want life to be different because they have become so accustomed to the life they are living . . . even if the life they are living doesn’t seem to be all that great. And, so, they need to be asked: What do you really want?

I think this must be part of the reason that Jesus asked what seems to be an obvious question to an obviously a needed person. Jesus wasn’t being funny; he wasn’t ignoring the man’s need. He really wanted the man to explain what he wanted. Jesus wanted the man to “own” what he was asking.

Jesus was travelling on his way to Jerusalem; he is approaching the city, knowing the outcome that awaits him. He has been speaking with his disciples about what it will mean for them to participate with him in his kind of life. It will be costly, challenging, wonderful, scary, life-affirming, life-risking.

And on the way, he passes a blind man (as recorded in Mark 10:46-52). And it is in the passing that a strange exchange takes place. The man is calling out. Jesus–the teacher, the healer, the deliverer, the wonder-worker–is passing by. The blind man calls to him. And, when the two come close, Jesus asks the man: “What do you want me to do for you?”

Isn’t it obvious?! I mean no disrespect, but can’t Jesus see what the blind man needs or wants?

I am sure Jesus has a pretty good sense of what Bartimaeus (the blind man) wanted. But Jesus asked him anyway. Because (I think) Jesus wanted the blind man to say what he wanted and to admit he wanted to be changed.

That’s where the rub is. That is where the risk comes in. That is what holds some people back.

Jesus is here. He is present. He is here to serve and to love and to minister and to change those who come in contact with him. But, some people don’t want to be changed. (Like the religious leaders who would rather argue with Jesus than give in to what he was teaching!)

So, Jesus asked the blind man what he wanted. Bartimaeus spoke up plainly: “Teacher, I want to see!” That would mean his life as a beggar would change. He would have to think about work and a new way of getting around and he might begin caring for others who had, before, cared for him, and . . . well, to put it simply, to have Jesus change him would mean a whole lot more than seeing!

Crippled by unforgiveness. Do we really want Jesus to change our hearts to extend love? Blinded by jealousy or envy. Are we open for Jesus to transform us so that we genuinely want others to excel?

Angry and bitter, hostile and controlling, unhappy and discouraged. We come to Jesus and grumble about life and how unfair things are and how we don’t like what is going on and how we feel. And Jesus asks, in all seriousness, “What do you want me to do for you?” He asks because he is here to heal and help and deliver and love and transform and change and rescue. And he waits for us to answer . . . for us to admit what the real need is and whether we really want him to change us or not.

Because if Jesus speaks the word, extends his hand, touches that spot in our heart, bestows specific healing grace, life is going to change! All of the old excuses for not doing life the way he intends will vanish and all our rationalizations over why we just can’t live the way he calls us to will disappear. And we will be whole, healthy, and free to step more fully into that life he wants for us.

So, he asks: What do you want me to do for you? Do you really want to be different? What are you asking?

Instruction for One, Insight for Many

Throughout the Gospels we meet people who had “face-to-face” time with Jesus. We watch them come up close and we listen as Jesus speaks to them. And as we read those passages, we want to know how this encounter between that person and Jesus is supposed to speak to us. Knowing that Jesus is alive, knowing he is active in our lives, we want to read the Gospels with an eye on how such encounters inform our relationship with Jesus.

We cannot simply and naively take what Jesus says to someone as if it were his word to us. For example, when Jesus tells the disciples to get in the boat and “go over to the other side” (Mark 4:35), we can’t read those words as if Jesus is telling us to “take a trip by boat.” Often we try and find some “spiritual way” to read those accounts so as to appropriate what we are reading, but we have to be careful how we do that so we don’t mis-read the passage.

Mark 10:17-27 is one of those passages that is sometimes taught as if it is simply straightfoward with the result that we might actually miss what is there for us. It is the passage where a rich young ruler comes to see Jesus. (You probably should read the passage before you go further in this post!)

There is a great deal in the exchange between Jesus and the young man that warrants exploration, but in this post let’s just listen to Jesus’ words to the man:

“Go and sell all you possess and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; and come, follow me” (Mark 10:21).

How are we to hear these words? What do they mean for us? Is Jesus telling us to sell everything we have? (Clearly, most of us don’t think that . . . and you can tell because of how much stuff we still have!) Did Jesus really mean that when he said it to that man? Yes, indeed. But it was specific “medicine” for a particular soul sickness.

The man had much; he “was one who owned much property” (10:22). And he was seeking to do what he could to secure “eternal life” (10:17). He wanted to know what he could do to earn, get, or inherit life. Well, life–that is life with Jesus–is not obtained that way. It’s not “up for sale”–you can’t earn, achieve, or merit life. It comes as a free gift, given to those who look to Jesus for life.

All that to say, the man’s approach to finding life was a bit tweaked. And what was tweaking him was his “stuff.” So, Jesus points him to the way forward.

“Sell everything. Give it indiscriminately to the poor (so you get no benefit).” In other words, let go of what your treasure!

“And then you will be able to hold on to real treasure.” Not that his selling stuff would merit the man anything; only that to hold on to Jesus, he would need to let go of what was filling his hands.

“And then come and see me as the center of your life.” Jesus calls the man to a life-long, grace-based relationship.

This isn’t a parable. It is really how Jesus talked with the man. And he really did tell the man to sell everything he had. But that doesn’t mean that we must do the same . . . necessarily!

What we have here is specific instruction for one man. (It is worth noting that Jesus never gives this identical advice to anyone else.) And this specific instruction addresses the man’s specific need. (In this case the obstacle that is getting in the way of him seeing Jesus.) And if we understand that, we can catch a glimpse of the insight that will help us in our journey with Jesus and not get tripped up by the instructions given to one man.

Maybe Jesus will call us to sell everything we have; he could do that! Maybe his call to me, his call to you, will be quite different than that–but perhaps just as radical sounding and personally challenging.

Jesus knew that the man needed life. The man approached Jesus wanting life but he was just pursuing life on his terms; he was doing it the only way he knew to pursue anything, wanting to “do” in order to “get.” And Jesus said, “No.” Let go of all of that and just cling to me.

There’s the insight all of us need. Whether or not we will have to sell everything we have in order to be free enough to hold on to Jesus . . . that’s another question.

Why Stand There?

In an earlier post (“It Seems Like a Waste of Time”), I reflected some on what we might learn about Jesus in his response to the little children who were brought to him. He prioritized the simple desire for contact, for intimacy. Having seen that, my thoughts continue to reflect on those ideas.

In the middle of “very important kingdom business,” Jesus is, as it were, interrupted. There is Jesus, in the midst of a group of others; debating with the religious leaders, explaining things to his followers who were not quite getting it yet. A crowd surrounds him; listening to his explanations, perhaps trying to ask a question. And then the children show up, being brought along by their parents.

[Some people began] bringing children to Jesus so that he might touch them; but the disciples rebuked them. But when Jesus saw this, he was indignant and said to them, “Permit the children to come to me; do not hinder them; for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. Truly I say to you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child will not enter it [at all].” And he took them in his arms and [began] blessing them, laying his hands on them. (Mark 10:13-16)

What do you think it might have been like, to be a child-in-hand, drawn along by a mom or dad, working your way through a crowd to . . . what? To see a man? To have him touch you? What had dad or mom told you about what was going on? What would you be thinking of the other children being brought?

The crowd parts enough for your eyes to catch a glimpse of him. He turns your way; he says something to the grown-ups. Then he reaches out his hands for you . . . and he smiles. Arms outstretched, face beaming, quiet invitation. And, of course, you step forward. And Jesus picks you up, holds you close, prays for you, tussles your hair, whispers your name.

And you hear him say that to experience his kingdom, people need to approach him the way you did–only those who come “as children” will really experience what Jesus wants for them.

What does that mean? What does it mean to come “as a child”? If I had been one of those little ones, I might have thought . . .

“Well, I was a bit scared. I wasn’t sure what he would do. My parents had told me about Jesus and some of the things he had done. But I didn’t know why we were going to see him. I wasn’t sick . . . or at least I didn’t think so. My parents didn’t tell me they were hoping I would be healed. I didn’t have any questions to ask him, I couldn’t think of something I really wanted him to do. I simply went because my parents said it would be good for Jesus to see me . . . and for me to see him. I stood there for a little while, as other children went up to him. And I began thinking, ‘Why stand here? Why wait?” But then he looked at me. And when he stretched out his arms to me, it just seemed right to get close. And it was good! If I ever get the chance to climb up in his arms again, I am going to do it!”

Coming To Him . . . Differently

Reading the Gospels and listening to Jesus can, sometimes, be frustrating.

I continue to think about Jesus’ words spoken to the religious people who were attracted to him. (I’ve reflected a bit on this passage I have been “chewing” on in a couple of previous posts: “What are you searching for?” and “Principle or person?”) And although the words Jesus said seem clear enough, I am struggling with just what they should or must mean for me. 

Jesus said:

“You search the Scriptures because you think that in them you have eternal life; it is these that testify about me; and you are unwilling to come to me so that you may have life.” (John 5:39)

I don’t want to be one who misses life looking for principles to live by. And I don’t want to be someone who spends time in the Scripture only to overlook or ignore the Person who is the target and end point of all that is revealed. I want life . . . and I want to find it in Jesus. So, to the degree that I “get” that out of this passage, the words are clear.

But there’s a rub; there’s a part of this that raises a struggle for me.

When Jesus’ original hearers heard him speak these words, he was there, in their presence, speaking to them face to face. They could, tangibly and practically, “come to [him].” They could hang around him, listen to him moment by moment, watch what he did, camp out where he stopped for the evening. They could share a meal, put an arm around his shoulder, whisper a question, watch his expressions. There was a physicality, a tangibleness, a palpable reality to “coming to Jesus” that they were privileged to experience. It is not the same today.

That is not to say that this is a bad thing or that, somehow, Jesus’ call to come to him to find life is any less vital or real or within our grasp. It does mean that how I conceptualize and conceive of giving into that invitation may be different than that of his original hearers. And, that is where I sometimes struggle.

In the words of A. W. Tozer, we do have senses by which we can perceive the spiritual world. And it is with those senses that I can see and hear and touch and feel and know the reality of Jesus’ present presence. Jesus is not merely the title of a “great idea;” as if Christianity is about commemorating the memory of someone who once lived. Jesus lives, just as real and just as present in this world as he was in the days of his incarnation. It is just that perceiving him these days–coming to him to experience and have life–is a bit different than in the days of the incarnation.

I was thinking how “habituated” I am to sight. I pretty much find my way around life with my eyes. I recall being on a mission trip where electricity was scarce and what little power that was to be had went out. It was black! You couldn’t see anything. The reality of what was there hadn’t changed; only my ability to experience it by sight had. I could (and did) rely on my other senses–touch and hearing primarily–to make my way around until light (and sight) returned.

Might it be nice to be able to “come to Jesus” the way that those in the days of his incarnation did and see Jesus the way they had? Perhaps. But we don’t have that option. We aren’t privileged with that kind of “sight;” so we will have to rely on our other senses–other spiritual senses–to see and know and hear and feel and perceive and, ultimately, come to Jesus.

So, it’s time to lean into whatever spiritual senses we have . . . to facilitate our coming to Jesus. For, in coming to him, we will find him to be life to us!