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!

I really do want this life with Jesus. There is a part of me that longs to genuinely enjoy the kind of experience with God, rooted in grace and empowered by the Spirit, that Jesus came to offer us through what he accomplished in and through his life and death and resurrection. But there are times when my day-to-day activity betrays that there are other wants shaping my living. And I find in my own heart and mind rationalizations and reasonings that push against Jesus’ kind of life. It’s not that I am entirely double-minded, it’s just that . . . well, I am distractable.

If I am going to be honest, that distractability is not inevitable. I am distracted, in some sense, because I want to be, I chose to be, I set my focus and the distractability follows. And what I end up doing, in those distractable moments, is to attempt to justify my choices, argue that my distractability just “happened,” and try to plead ignorance or argue relevance or . . .

Well, I do whatever I can to distance myself from what I really already know matters. I play mental games to keep from having to look honestly at what Jesus invites me into.

I know that sounds pretty twisted . . . but I do find those kind of cognitive gymnastics going on at times. Kind of like what happened in Mark 12:18-27.

Some Sadducees come to talk with Jesus. They find it very hard to ignore him, but they don’t really like him. They don’t believe in the resurrection of the dead, Jesus seems to. They don’t think God messes with people directly very much any more, Jesus seems to believe the opposite. So, they don’t really like him and they really are troubled by his growing ministry.

So, they come with a question. Or at least they pose it as a question. They ask about a woman whose husband dies before an heir can be born. That was a problem in Jesus’ day, in that property was the basis of life and family property stayed with the son(s). No child and the family property goes to another. So, there was provision in the Old Testament law for a woman whose husband dies leaving her childless; she could have a child by her husband’s brother, thus preserving the line.

Well the Sadducees suggest a hypothetical situation involving seven brothers and no children and then end this sham by asking Jesus about whose wife the woman would be “in the resurrection” seeing as she had wed all seven brothers.

The truth is, they weren’t looking for an answer. They only wanted to trip Jesus up; get him a bit off balance. They were trying to muddy things up a bit so they wouldn’t have to deal with Jesus. They wanted to be able to throw up their hands and say, “See, this Jesus doesn’t have it all figured out! He can’t even resolve this tiny problem!”

And I do the same. All to often. When I hear Jesus speak to me about something in my life that needs to change or something in my world that he intends for me to be attentive to, I change the subject, raise an objection, posit a hypothetical situation . . . all in hopes of getting him distracted enough and getting me engaged enough that I can justify not following him simply, not responding to him directly.

How did Jesus respond to the Sadducees? He informed them that they had missed it. He didn’t directly resolve their hypothetical situation. He simply told them that they neither understood God nor the Scriptures (Mark 12:24).

They were playing games. Jesus was calling for life. They were dealing in fictional hypotheticals. Jesus was breathing life into spiritually dead people. They were wrangling about words. Jesus was speaking truth. They missed it my a mile by trying to be clever and confrontational. Jesus spoke to them simply and called them to be attentive.

Sometimes I miss it by a mile, too. I play games, deal in fictional hypotheticals, wrangle about words, try to be clever. And Jesus speaks plainly to me. He asks:

Do you really want to listen to what I am saying? Will you give attention to what the Scriptures actually say? Are you inclined to rest in the power of God? Or are you going to continue to distract yourself with such games?

We all need good role models. That is, there is real value in having examples of what this life with Jesus is intended to look like.

Paul knows that. He calls to friends and followers of Jesus to find models who walk out the life in holy and healthy ways (as in Philippians 3:17). And that is why he mentions Timothy and Epaphroditus in writing to the Philippians.

After having invited those to whom he is writing to “have this attitude in yourselves which was in Christ Jesus” (Philippians 2: 5), and having explained the humble and self-giving mind-set that characterized Jesus’ life and death, Paul mentions two names: Timothy and Epaphroditus.

In an early post (“Living Commendably”), I introduced this idea of these two men serving as examples. Having extended such a seemingly high and lofty calling, it might be possible for the Philippians (and for us!) to insist that no one would really be able to live with Jesus’ attitude of heart and mind. And Paul probably knows we just might think such things, so he calls attention to a couple of guys who “get it.” In that early post, I highlighted what Paul commended in Timothy; here we need to look at Epaphroditus.

What did Paul see in him? What does he want the Philippians to notice? (You might want to read Philippians 2:25-30.)

Epaphroditus was sincere in his affection for them and for Jesus.

Epaphroditus was more concerned for the welfare of others than his own welfare. 

But there is one other remarkable thing that Paul states about Epaphroditus:

He came close to death for the work of Christ, risking his life to complete what was deficient in your service to me (2:30).

What is Paul saying here? Is he commending masochism? Of course not! Is he applauding Epaphroditus playing the role of a martyr? Certainly not.

He is saying that . . .

Epaphroditus valued service to Christ over his own well-being.

Epaphroditus was going to carry out his serving (in this case, for the Philippians with regard to Paul) to the nth degree.

In other words, Epaphroditus was going to be “all in” in this Christ-like life. He was not going to stop short of being and giving all for what most mattered. And in this, Epaphroditus was tasting the very kind of life that Jesus lived.

After all, Paul had just told the Philippians that Jesus himself served “to the point of death.” Paul affirmed that Jesus’ self-giving took him to the cross for the benefit and good of others. Paul insisted that Jesus was all in, did not stop short, of carrying out his own ministry of service on behalf of the Father on for our good.

Jesus went all the way. Epaphroditus, to the degree he could, empowered by the Spirit, went all the way. And Paul is simply pointing out: that’s the model!

I really don’t mind serving . . . within limits. I would like to minister to others . .. as long as it doesn’t cost me too much. I have experienced something of the joy of giving myself away . . . but typically still holding something “in reserve.” All too often and all too easily, I stop short. And then I wonder why my life in Jesus seems so different from the life Paul pictures, than the New Testament presents.

Maybe the only way to really experience the life of Jesus (who was all in, no stopping short) is to life all in, no stopping short, nothing held back.

I am going to think about trying that . . . if it doesn’t cost me too much.

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!

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 . . .

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.

The tendency, when reading about the Pharisees and those who opposed Jesus in the Gospel accounts, is to distance myself from them. I tend to paint them with very dark colors, seeing them as basically wicked and evil; I want to distance myself from them. But, when I am genuinely honest, that’s hard to do.

They weren’t basically wicked and evil; they were intent on living holy but ended up misconstruing how holy living was to be accomplished. They approached holy living and right standing with God in a way that left them at odds with Jesus. And, rather than (rightly) yielding to him, they pushed back. And, right there, I can see myself.

When Jesus entered Jerusalem and turned over the tables in the Temple and called for a pursuit of prayer rather than the kind of activity that was being cultivated in the Temple, he set himself at odds with the religious leaders. They didn’t understand what he was doing; but they didn’t ask. What they did understand they didn’t like; but they didn’t pursue clarification. So, they became antagonistic. And, right at that moment, Jesus told a story–he used a parable to make a point.

The parable is found in Mark 12:1-12. (It would be good if you read the parable for yourself; there are links at the bottom of this blog page to take you to a website to read the passage if you don’t have a Bible nearby.) The parable is about a vineyard and tenants.

Some take an approach to this particular parable trying to discover who the various people are who are sent by the vineyard owner. The owner has tenants; he wants what is his from those who are using his land. So, in the parable, the owner sends servants and more. Some want to know: Is this a picture of God sending prophets? Is the last one sent intended to say something about Jesus being God’s son? Perhaps. But if we turn our attention to those details, we might really miss what Jesus is saying.

What is the point of the parable? What is the big idea that is underscored by Jesus’ parable? When read and taken as a whole, the point seems clear.

Tenants should not live as if they were owners. That is, you shouldn’t act like something is yours if it isn’t! That seems pretty clear, fairly straightforward. And that is what the religious leaders were missing.

They thought that they were about their own business when they encouraged and promoted certainly religious practices. They thought they were busy with their own stuff as they went about life. But that is not the case. It is not the case for them, nor is it the case for me.

And it is there that I see myself in the Pharisees. They were living lives with the mistaken notion that what had only been entrusted to them had, somehow, become theirs to do with as they wanted. And I live, almost daily, with the mistaken notion that what has been entrusted to me (my life!) has, somehow, become mine to do with as I want.

I spend my time as I want. I spend my resources as I choose. I invest my talents and abilities at the discretion of my will. I do, or do not do, what I deem best. I live most of my days as if my days are mine, to be spent as I see fit. And I live in my relationship with God as if that relationship, fundamentally, really is about what I want to get out of it. I live, so much of my life, as if my life is mine.

And Jesus tells the same parable to me. And Jesus wants me to see the same thing the religious leaders he was speaking to missed.

My days, my life, my talents, my resources, my abilities, my hours . . . all of this I merely serve as steward over . . . entrusted by the owner who has the rightful claim on all I am.

I thought it was all mine. But to the degree I think that, I am self-deceived.

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 . . .

I tend to think that I sometimes misconstrue the Gospel. That is, although if you asked me I think I could define what the word “gospel” means and I could speak, in some fashion, about what is “included” in the “Good News,” I don’t think I always am thinking about the Gospel in the way the authors of the New Testament think of it.

This was the topic of conversation for some friends I was with this afternoon. We had been reading some of Paul’s writings and trying to get our heads around what Paul was saying. And we read:

For I am not ashamed of the gospel, for it is the power of God for salvation (Romans 1:16).

Paul, apparently, was not reluctant or hesitant to speak of the Gospel. I am not always so free. And I was wondering why . . . and some at the table were wrestling with that question.

And we tried to unpack what Paul was saying. His lack of hesitancy about the Gospel was connected to his awareness that, somehow, the Gospel was related to God’s power.

Now power is an interesting word. Sometimes the New Testament authors use a word that is translated “power” when they are referring to the “right to act.” Sometimes they use a word that means “physical strength.” Here the word used means “effectual power;” power to accomplish something.

That gets my attention. The Gospel–that is, what God has done in and through Jesus’ life, death, resurrection, and ascension–accomplishes something. God affects some change in people through the Gospel.

And that stirs my thinking. Because, in truth, I usually think of “the Gospel” as a collection of propositional truths to affirm. (A collection of Bible-based “ideas” that one should agree to, like: Jesus is God, Jesus came to earth, Jesus died for sins, etc.) It is not that there isn’t content–Bible-based ideas–that are part and parcel of the Gospel. But I tend to live as if the Gospel is “stuff to think about” while Paul seems to think that the Gospel is all about “stuff that God does and is doing.”

For Paul, the Gospel is so much more than a good idea. (It is a good idea, but good ideas, by themselves, don’t always change us.) God changes people through transformative, grace-rooted, cross-centered, Spirit-empowered, Jesus-anchored power!

When I talk with someone who is just exploring who Jesus is and what he came to do, do I share with them out of the understanding and assurance that God has wonder-working power to transform them in and through this message? Or is it more like I am hoping that they will come to see what a “good idea” the Gospel is?

When I talk to someone who knows Jesus but is struggling with some relationship issue or some troubling ingrained sin habit, do I share with them out of the understanding and assurance that there is amazing and life-transforming power from God loosed into lives through the work of Jesus?  Or am I operating more from the thought that if I can just get some “good ideas” across than their life might work better?

Paul realized and lived as if the Gospel was so much more than a good idea. I know that is case. I just want to live like I know that!

When we read the Gospels, we are faced with a variety of challenges. One of the subtle, often-overlooked, issues is that of what could be called “life parallels.” We read something in the Gospels, watching something Jesus does or listening to what he says, and we can sometimes mistakenly make a direct “life parallel” to our own world and situation . . . where it might not actually be the case.

One prominent example is the Temple. As recorded in the Gospels, Jesus visited the Temple in Jerusalem a number of times. And, we might be tempted to draw a direct life parallel between the Temple in Jesus’ day and our church. But such a parallel is not, perhaps, truly appropriate.

The Temple was the sole, God-ordained place for sacrifice to be offered. There were very specific regular, as well as annual, rituals to perform. And although God’s presence was manifest in the inner most part of the Temple, the Temple probably reminded people of their distance from God rather than underscored his nearest to them. (And that idea was radically altered when, in Jesus’ dying, the veil of the Temple separating the people from their God, was ripped in two, from top to bottom!) This differs greatly from “church” as pictured in the New Testament.

But we sometimes don’t realize that distinction. So, for example, when we come to the passage in the Gospel of Mark where Jesus “cleanses the Temple,” we might end up trying to make sense of the passage and apply it in the wrong way. Mark wrote:

Then they came to Jerusalem. And He entered the temple and began to drive out those who were buying and selling in the temple, and overturned the tables of the moneychangers and the seats of those who were selling doves;  and He would not permit anyone to carry merchandise through the temple. And He began to teach and say to them, “Is it not written, ‘My house shall be called a house of prayer for all the nations’? But you have made it a robbers’ den.” (Mark 11:15-17).

Perhaps you have heard this passage applied by someone saying something like . . .

We shouldn’t sell stuff on the church property.

There is something special about our church because it is God’s house.

But such ideas betray a misappropriation of this passage. (It’s not that some case might not be made for such ideas, but it would be hard to insist that such things are what Jesus is intending to teach by what he did in the Temple.)

For the follower of Jesus, there are no God-ordained places for sacrifice; one sacrifice has already been made–the cross of Jesus wholly and in a holy way replaced all sacrifices. According to the author of the letter to the Hebrews, the Temple was a shadow, a picture, of what was real. It was intended to point to something; it wasn’t the something. And, the church in the New Testament is not a stand in for the Temple. Also, Paul makes clear, in his letters, that God’s dwelling place is now in the hearts and lives of the followers of Jesus.

So, there is no direct “life parallel” between the Temple in Jerusalem and the church you might attend. But, if that is the case, then what are we to learn from Jesus’ “cleansing of the Temple”? Is there something for us to see there?

Maybe the thing for contemporary readers of the Gospel to grasp in this passage is less about “sacred buildings” and more about Jesus in the midst of normal “religious” life.

Jesus steps into what looks like a very “lively” religious setting. But he doesn’t see what he thinks ought to characterize life with the Father. It’s really not so much about the place but about the people who are acting as if they are religious.

They don’t privilege prayer. Jesus does. They don’t welcome others. Jesus does. They are self-consumed and concerned about what’s in it for themselves. Jesus isn’t. It really is about how Jesus is looking at things . . . and not so much what he is specifically looking at.

If I put my attention on who is in the Temple and what matters most to him, then his “cleansing of the Temple” becomes much more powerful and provocative . . . and I don’t end up simplifying the idea to whether we sell books in the lobby of the church building.

I wonder how Jesus looks at what I do?

Do I privilege real conversation with God over appearance? Do I see worship as an occasion to invite and welcome others to join me in approaching God? Does genuine worship characterize my days, or just religious kind of busy-ness?