New Testament Thoughts

This Blog is Under Maintenance

2009-05-03T19:21:00.000-04:00

I'm rethinking its intention and hoping to ramp it up to something a whole lot more interesting. Can't say more now, but you'll be hearing about it. Stay tuned!

Matthew 8:14-22: Comings and Goings

2009-04-05T02:44:00.001-04:00

Matthew 8:14-22

Coming home had the effect of dispersing the followers of Jesus. The disciples divided by necessity, with several returning to their home or finding other beds. Simon invited Jesus to his home, with Andrew, James and John opting to join them. As for the newer followers, some (particularly the sick) had dropped out rather than make the walk to Capernaum. But the delegation was still an impressive one, and even busy Capernaum took note of the group’s arrival.

Simon’s wife was flustered by the sudden reappearance. Guests were welcome, but it so happened that her own mother was laid up with a high fever. She didn’t want the rabbi exposed to it, nor anyone else, for that matter. Jesus, clearly tired from the journey, found the woman, knelt beside her, and touched her hand. He had asked for no declaration of faith, nor made a lesson of any kind out of it; he just quietly healed her.

There wouldn’t be much time for rest, however. By sunset, the crowd had converged on the little house. Markets were closed, nets had been emptied, and the curious had arrived en masse. As usual, healing was the only thing on anyone’s mind. Jesus rose without a word of complaint and began attending to the needs of people, speaking softly to them as he touched and loved and brought health. But it was clear a new plan would have to be improvised. The pressure, the noise, and the need were too intense. Before the lamps were dimmed, Jesus took the four fishermen aside. “I know you’re out of the business,” he said. “But do you think you can get us a fishing boat for tomorrow? We don’t need nets—just something to get us to the other shore.

“Consider it done,” said Simon firmly. He liked the idea of the inner circle throwing off all these human barnacles and moving on. There simply wasn’t enough of Jesus to go around.

“Should we tell the other eight?” asked John in a conspiratorial whisper.

Jesus nodded. “Twelve will fit nicely in a fishing boat.”

Not until later could Simon put his finger on the problem with that statement: The number should have been thirteen. Twelve plus Jesus. But at sunup, the master helped shove off, then stepped back to shore. He laughed and waved as he watched the shock on the twelve faces. The “barnacles,” ever alert, were already showing up by the shore. Jesus sat and began teaching them.

“He said it was too much pressure,” said Peter, watching with puzzlement.

“I think he meant for us,” said Andrew.

Jesus had called twelve to follow him. These others had come on impulse, and now, after a night or two of sleep, some of them were calming down and thinking things over more rationally. As ever, Jesus listened and posed questions. An emotional young scribe proclaimed, “Teacher, I’ll follow you everywhere.”

Jesus knew the man was too young to have traveled many miles in his life. “Foxes have holes, birds have nests,” said Jesus. “Either has more of a home than the Messiah.” He looked around him wistfully, thinking of Nazareth. The scribe examined a pebble in his hand; he really hadn’t considered a future of homelessness. He wasn’t sure what to think.

Another, a cattleman, said, “Well, I want to come along, too, and I would if I didn’t have an aging father to tend to. Maybe in a few years . . .”

Jesus studied him closely and said, “So you will live with death, rather than follow Life?”

The man fell silent, stricken by the pointed reply. But he got the message. Jesus, like a lot of teachers, dealt in shock-phrasing that set out the options in stark contrast. And now that he considered it, there were brothers and sisters to care for his father. This new opportunity, however, would beckon but once—he was sure of that. If he let it pass him by, something in him would die indeed. Now he knew what he would do. He would follow this man and not look back, though he loved his father deeply.

Jesus spent several hours with the crowd. Real change is hard, and he wanted them to realize that. Nor would the hard things soften on the road ahead; much the opposite.

Matthew 8:5-13: Chain of Command

2009-04-04T02:12:00.004-04:00

Matthew 8:5-13

The Gates of Capernaum were a welcome sight to the little party. Since the wilderness ordeal, Jesus had made his home here. And in this city, of course, he had begun gathering followers. The fishing contingent was already smelling salt. Capernaum’s streets abounded with activity--trade, dickering, bickering. Servants took furtive breaks from their duties to gossip and flirt in the alleyways.

There was also a significant Roman presence in the city. Instead of the usual thin outpost, a Roman “century” would be on hand—not the hundred of the name (typical Roman overstatement); more like sixty to eighty. The nearest legion, the real fighters, were in Syria. But these were solid soldiers who kept strict order. It was reflected by the approach of the unit that greeted Jesus. They marched with that bearing that shut down the streets as they passed. Their armor was polished; their spears were sharp.

The disciples didn’t like any of this, even after seeing the centurion lift his right hand in a casual greeting that said, “Relax, this is just for talk.” News of the last few days would have beaten the disciples home. No one wanted too much attention from the occupying force.

And so the two parties converged, in a shady spot just outside the gate. There was the centurion, flanked by his men, the picture of military conformity. And there was Jesus, flanked by his men, the picture of random selection. The centurion unbuckled his chinstrap and pushed back his helmet a comfortable inch. “Sir,” he began, “I believe I’m addressing the healer.”

The nod from Jesus was barely perceptible.

“My son is laid up at home, unable to move. He is in terrible pain . . . he cries out, and I can do nothing . . .” Here broke the voice of the most powerful officer in the region. For the disciples, this sight was another miracle with the rest.

Jesus looked at him for a moment. Roman soldiers weren’t allowed to marry, but officers looked the other way when they took local women. Some of them raised families before abruptly moving on to another encampment, or perhaps to citizenship in the empire, the ultimate goal.

Jesus said, “Should I come and heal the young man?”

The centurion seemed unsure what to say. He looked over at the disciples, these unimposing Jewish men, then back to the healer. “You could not enter my home,” he said, quickly adding, “That is, it would be frowned upon by your priest. I understand that well. Can you not simply issue the command?”

There was just the hint of laughter in Jesus’ eye, though he was carefully respectful. “Issue the command?”

The centurion glanced again at the disciples. “We, too, have chains of authority, men under men. And I answer to a higher power, as you do. I issue a command by authority, and it will be obeyed.”

Something in these words impressed Jesus. He pulled Peter, James, and John closer and said, “Listen carefully. I’ve walked through our country, and this is a faith of a higher magnitude. What I would give to see it among our own.”

He thought a moment, then said, “One day we’ll open the doors and hold the great feast, the one we like to talk about. We’ll recline together at the table, in the way we do in Judea, and men like this one—and others, from very distant parts—will join in, sitting up or however they eat where they come from. Meanwhile, some of the names who were first on the list will shiver outside the window, moaning and crying and wondering where their plates and goblets are.”

It was one of those strange things he said; the disciples didn’t know whether to laugh or to nod ruefully. Both were indicated.

Jesus turned back to the centurion. “Go home, my friend. You won’t be surprised by what you see.”

The Centurion made a subtle gesture to the men, and they briskly turned, prepared for the return march. His face was hard and disciplined again, but there was a victorious gleam in his eye—the look of a man accustomed to having his way.

With no briskness and little conformity, the disciples continued on home.

Unclean!

2009-04-03T02:19:00.003-04:00

Matthew 8:1-4

Several of the disciples made their way to the side of the path. “Do you see this?” whispered one. “It’s a spectacle now,” said another. “What are we going to do about all these moaners and hangers-on?”

Matthew was intently watching two soldiers in the distance. He knew the Romans didn’t like rabbis who carried entourages. It looked as if the soldiers were questioning a Pharisee, who was interpreting. For the first time, it occurred to him that this jaunt could well be dangerous.

Jesus was unfazed, walking along and conversing, even joking, with farmers and beggars. Many conversations competed, a raucous laugh issued from some corner, and a few indeed were moaning. Then a cry brought abrupt silence. “Ta-may! Ta-may! Unclean!”

The direction of the voice created a gaping breach in the wall of followers, and there stood before Jesus a leper. The cry had been his own, of course; he was required to warn the world of his every invasion of it.

His head was bare and nearly bald; less skin than scab made up his face. His mantle was ripped, the mandated evidence of grief. He looked warily at Jesus for a moment, unsure of his acceptance. Then he fell down upon his knees in a posture of worship, still watching the teacher. A clump of mud hit his right ear with an ugly sound; the raucous laugh sounded again. The leper never broke eye contact.

“I know you can make me better,” he said quietly—this was between the two of them. “If . . . if you want.”

“I do,” said Jesus, and a slight smile appeared as he reached out to the man and enveloped the ravaged face with his rough fingers. “So be well.” Before removing his hand, he discretely brushed away the mud.

The man, still on his knees, looked up. His eyes were clear and wide, his face was smooth and clean. He regarded his hands for just a moment, then buckled and thrust his face into the turf, convulsed with weeping. The crowd was still.

Jesus watched the man sob for a brief time, then knelt beside him and placed an arm on his shoulder. “This was for you—not for a good story,” he said. “Don’t talk about it.” Matthew noticed that Jesus was looking toward the soldiers and the Pharisee, who were studying him.

“But do this. Go to the priest, do the usual things. Bring the gift that Moses commands.” This was procedure by the book. The former leper nodded heavily, still unable to speak. Jesus helped him to his feet. The man clung to Jesus for a moment, then turned, thought of something in the distance, and began to run.

Jesus found Peter and Andrew. “Let’s go to Capernaum,” he said.

Matthew 7:23-29: Rock This House

2009-04-01T04:38:00.004-04:00

Matthew 7:23-29

Jesus fell silent for just a moment, then slowly rose to his feet. The sermon was coming to an end.

“Therefore,” he said, brushing a bit of dust from his legs. “Therefore, if you take these words in and live them out, you’ll be wise. You’ll be like the man who built his house upon a rock. A great storm rose, the rains pounded, the streams flooded, the winds howled and hammered upon the walls of his new home. The rock held. The storm spent. The house stood.”

He told the story almost in a whisper, but he invoked the scene with power. The disciples felt as if they could hear the rain and the pounding gales, feel the integrity of the deep stone flooring.

“But if you throw my words away,” Jesus resumed, “You’ll have built on the sand. And when that storm rises, and the rains pound, the streams flood, and the winds howl and hammer upon your walls—it will all fall with a crash.”

The final word caused a few flinches, though the ending was not unexpected. The sermon had begun with meekness, ended with the word crash, and left a world of questions. He had spoken of a kind of life difficult to imagine, yet one that change everything.

As Matthew and the others now stood and gathered their things, they noticed the depth of the crowd that had slowly collected. In the beginning, it had been just the few of them. Now a sea of faces silently regarded the teacher. No one had ever captured them like this one. No one had said such words. The man spoke with the presence of a royal dignitary, though Judea had none like this. He spoke as a high teacher of the law, but without the imperious chill. Who was he?

The sea of farmers and fishermen, paupers and prostitutes parted as he trudged down the hill. And behind him, the sick and the lonely and the needy began to follow as if by magnetism.

Matthew 7:13-23: Two Gates, Two Paths, and a Tree

2009-03-31T04:33:00.001-04:00

Matthew 7:13-23

Jesus concludes the main portion of the greatest sermon ever preached. Everything up to here has been practical, how-to teaching, and it’s been sobering to say the least. Perhaps Jesus stops for a moment and allows the disciples to think about all they have heard, all he is asking of them: being poor in spirit; being persecuted for righteousness’ sake; getting no public credit for praying or giving; living by a standard of heart rather than deed; turning the other cheek and walking the second mile.

This is a hard road he is describing, and therefore he says, “The gate to my kingdom is very narrow. It’s a road few want to travel. On the other hand, there is that broad path, that colorful gate. Follow that one if you want to go with the crowd. I’m just going to tell you right now that you won’t like where it leads.”

Isn’t that just how life works? How often in life do we take the path of least resistance, and how is that working out for us? All the good things in life require delayed gratification and personal discipline. Everything we ever accomplish comes by making the hard decision. Why should we expect faith to be any different? Yet our culture is clotted with easy religions that make no demands and offer broad paths and fancy gates, and “secrets” to making what we want come through “the power of attraction.”

Which leads Jesus to the subject of the carnival barkers at those fancy gates. These are the false prophets. The Jewish historian Josephus mentions the many false prophets during this time period, though all Jews believed that the era of true prophets had ended centuries ago. Perhaps one reason the Pharisees gave Jesus so little chance was they were jaded by the whole prophetic cottage industry. There is so much falsity in the religious world even today that it’s easy for us to become cynical about all spirituality. So how we do know the real stuff? Jesus says to think of spokesmen as trees and place a basket at their feet. He has just given an in-depth character sketch of a true citizen of God’s kingdom. A genuine prophet would match up with this sketch.

There have been times in the past when I’ve taken a dim view of certain ministries. I disagreed with this point or that point in their approach. But I kept seeing fruit filling the baskets at their feet. Sometimes, I finally admitted, God uses people with funny haircuts; other times he passes over the slick operators we expect him to use. And that, in turn, brings up the next warning from this passage. (The Sermon ends in a series of warnings.) Some of the very people with “kingdom” written all over them will be turned away at the door, according to Jesus. They will call him Lord. They will show him all kinds of fruit. So hey, what went wrong? Jesus will say, “I never knew you” because they never did the will of his Father. (Matt. 7:21) He asked for plums and they brought him pomegranates.

But wait! Does that mean we’re saved on the basis of our fruit (works)? Nothing of the kind. Salvation comes only by the grace and forgiveness of God. This is about what to look for. True followers of Jesus are known by their fruits, and they are doing God’s will. Some people cast out demons and do good deeds, but they are apparently freelancing. It is absolutely essential that we know and do the will of God, and we can be sure he will let us know what that is as we walk along the narrow path to the ultimate destination.

Matthew 7:7-12: Prayer is Pilgrimage

2009-03-30T02:16:00.003-04:00

Matthew 7:7-12

David Jeremiah likes to explain it this way. You’ve decided to look up an old friend. You ask around to find out what has ever become of old So-and-So. You’re told he lives over in Anytown, so you climb into your car to go seek him out. And when you arrive, you walk eagerly to his door and knock . . .

That’s your formula for asking God: Ask, seek, knock (Matt. 7:7). Jesus teaches two principles of prayer in this passage. The first is that it demands persistence. Jesus uses a tense that implies continuing action--in other words, keep on asking, keep on seeking, keep on knocking. The three verbs (ask, seek, knock) reinforce the relentlessness of the pursuit, each one drawing closer to its object. Prayer is a journey, a pilgrimage, not a quick order form. And I like the idea that part of prayer is very active—getting out there, seeking, knocking. Jesus repeats this teaching about persistence in Luke 18:1-8 and Luke 11:5-8.

The second point is also intriguing. There are some of Jesus’ teachings that are not necessarily unique to ancient literature, but this one certainly is; it startled people then as now. No one else but Jesus seems to guarantee that prayers will be answered. His reasoning is wonderfully simple: If you believe in God, don’t you believe he would be more loving and affectionate than a typical earth dad? (Jesus says “you who are evil” here, meaning in comparison to God; we are fallen.) Why would we ask, seek, and knock unless we were motivated by the belief that he is good and loving?

This isn’t the only occasion when Jesus says, “Just ask!” It’s so audacious that we’re prone to look for loopholes. There is one here, sort of. God knows how to give “good gifts to those who ask him” (Matt. 7:11). Knowing us better than ourselves, he must be the judge of what is truly a good gift. I’ve prayed for things and realized, later on, that the “good thing” God gave me was to turn down my request. Boiling it all down: God is generous, so pray on. And remember, sometimes the journey is the best part. That's when the wisdom takes root.

Now Jesus, rather unexpectedly, drops in the Golden Rule. (Matt. 7:12) This is an example of a teaching not necessarily unique to literature of the period. However, the most common Hebrew version (as in Tobit 4:15) is stated in the negative, for example: “What is hateful to yourself, do to no other.” The law of grace, under Christ, is stated in positive and proactive terms. This whole sermon has been about a new way of life, motivated by true, selfless spirit rather than religion. We can begin to speak about doing good, rather than simply avoiding doing evil.

There’s something for everyone here. The teaching on persistent prayer seems to fit the more serious Christian, while the Golden Rule can be taught to a three-year-old. Are you asking, seeking, and knocking on any doors today?

Matthew 7:1-6: Something In Your Eye

2009-03-29T00:38:00.001-04:00

Matthew 7:1-6

We’ve just seen the favorite verse of many Christians. Two verses later, we find the favorite verse of non-Christians. Have you ever been challenged with, “I thought your Bible says not to judge?” We quickly hear this when we express a negative opinion on some form of behavior.

With the Sermon, and with Jesus’ teachings in general. it’s all too easy to lift a verse from its fragile context and use it for our own purposes. Is Jesus saying we can express no firm opinion on anything, or we’ll receive God’s wrath? It would be an consistent teaching, because he gives us many commands that presuppose judging, including the one in Matt. 7:6, in his next breath. Clearly we are to be thinking believers and to notice the difference in right and wrong. The real subject is being judgmental, which is a different kettle of fish. The judgmental person has a rather aggressively critical spirit and pounces on the foibles of others. The problem, as Jesus says, is that he’s likely to find the same problem in his own life—and often worse.

Jesus surely made his listeners laugh when he spoke of speck-hunting critics with whole planks in their eyes. (Matt. 7:3) He is pointing out how ludicrous and intellectually dishonest it is to have a judgmental spirit. It’s the same kind of hypocrisy Jesus has already been addressing with those who give, fast, or pray piously. The Pharisees come to mind. Whenever Jesus teaches, they are never far from his subject—or probably the general vicinity.

Jesus finishes this segment with his line about casting pearls before swine, and throwing sacred “meat” to the dogs. In ancient times, stray dogs would attack indiscriminately, including the hand that offered them a scrap of food. It’s a vivid word picture, probably colored by what Jesus knew about his own future. The last line of Matt. 7:6 foreshadows it.

Planks and Pearls: How do these two segments fit together? They’re both about interactions with others, and the care we should take in the them. Don’t judge, in the case that you may not be worthy to speak; don’t offer truth in the case that the other might be unworthy to hear. In the final analysis, truth is holy and should be handled with very delicate care. We need to know ourselves (Matt. 7:1) and the other person. (Matt. 7:6).

Matthew 6:25-32: What, Me Worry?

2009-03-28T01:39:00.001-04:00

Matthew 6:25-32

Jesus has just challenged us to choose a master—God or goods. Choosing God is a liberating thing. It’s like a side door to escape from the rat race. We have the freedom to simply trust God and be done with the addiction to stuff. But won’t that make us worry? Don’t we need to be good hunters and gatherers? Jesus now tells us the truth about worry.

Jesus points to examples from nature, as teachers often did in his day. Look at those flowers—aren’t they beautiful? Yet you never see them shopping. And look up at those birds. They fly and they sing, and the food always turns up. Worrying, as Jesus tells us in Matt. 6:27, changes nothing. It adds not a day to our lives, though it may subtract quite a few.

Keep in mind what kind of audience this is. These are not modern Yuppies, but poor and hungry people; many are ill. So even though this passage sounds like simple common sense, it’s actually rather counter-intuitive for those listening. Yet Jesus gives what may be the thesis statement of the entire sermon—the fabulous Matthew 6:33, favorite verse of millions. It sums up his teaching on money, his teaching on worry, and just about anything else in the New Testament. Dare to go after the things that matter to God (“Seek first his kingdom”); live the way he commands (“and his righteousness”). Then “all these things will be given to you as well.”

Perhaps the most brilliant paraphrase of this verse comes from C. S. Lewis, who said, “Aim at heaven and you will get earth thrown in. Aim at earth and you get neither.” How exactly does this work? When we attach ourselves to God’s priorities, we’re aligning ourselves with his order of things—what Jesus calls the kingdom.

Try this analogy. How many people have you met who say that they found love when they were least looking for it? That happened because hunting made them chase too intensely. They radiated desperation. (“The pagans run after all these things,” Matt. 6:25) When those same people relaxed, they became more attractive to the opposite sex. Aim at contentment and you get love thrown in; aim at love and you get neither.

In the same way, when we hit the escape hatch from the rat race, we become spiritually and emotionally more healthy. That makes us better people, better at business, better at everything. All these things are added unto us, not because it’s a secret formula, but because that’s how life works. The big things fall into place because we are living this life just as the designer drew it up in the original blueprint.

So Aim at heaven today. Ask God what his priorities are along your path. You may be surprised what happens.

Matthew 6:19-24: The Best Things in Life Are Free

2009-03-26T01:22:00.003-04:00

Matthew 6:19-24

Jesus addresses a variety of subjects in the Sermon on the Mount, but they are always connected by a single thread: the significance of the invisible world to a disciple. Time and again he points to the things and appearances we value so highly, then shows how the truly important version must be found in the spiritual realm. He now turns to the subject of wealth and possessions. This is an area of interest to particularly everyone, but it truly touches a nerve in the time of this writing.

Jesus counsels us to set our store in the things of heaven rather than the things of earth, “where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal” (Matt. 6:19). If he had been speaking in 2009, he would have added, “where stocks and investments vaporize.” Our world truly worships it possessions, its status symbols, its material pleasures. Even when we have the best of motives (say, creating financial security for our children, or simply putting food on the table), we must be careful never to trust merely in things.

The current recession has erased one half of the world’s wealth, according to some estimates. Families are devastated; men and women are without jobs. None of which is to say that we don’t need these material things—we certainly do, and Jesus never teaches otherwise. But we are so much wiser when we store our hopes and dreams in the one place where crashes and devaluation are impossible.

Practically speaking, how do we do it? We lay up treasures in heaven, of course, by knowing God. But we also do it by serving him, by investing in friendships, in good works, even in building our minds. Jesus isn’t advising us to spend our lives in church or to become super pious. (He actually seems to hate that!) He is telling us that we’re bound to be disappointed when we build our lives around cheap pleasures, when the best things in life are free.

There is a puzzling bit here about “good eyes” and “bad eyes” (Matt. 6:22-23). These verses lose a bit in the translation, as Jesus was relying on certain puns in the original language, puns that set up verse 24. Never mind the subtleties. The main point is that there is no real “light” in the possessions that fill the eyes of the materialist. They lead to a darkness, an emptiness within. Jesus says, “I am the light of the world” (John 8:12). When we look intently upon him, our whole bodies will be full of light (in the words of Matt. 6:22). We know it’s true because of the way we feel after doing anything, no matter how small, that pleases him.

The problem is that we can’t have it both ways. (Matt. 6:24). Ultimately we will serve one master. Life presents us with many options for whom to serve, but there is only one who will love us and bless us. So let the light come in.

Matthew 6:9-15: Make Room for Daddy

2009-03-24T21:00:00.001-04:00

Matthew 6:9-15

“Our Father, who art in heaven . . .”

Activate your irony detector and listen closely. In Matthew 6:7 ESV, Jesus says, “When you pray, do not heap up empty phrases” (“vain repetitions” in the King James Version). He says this in clear, simple wording. Then he teaches the Lord’s Prayer.

Got the irony? The Lord’s Prayer may be the most familiar chunk of prose in western culture. We know it so well that we drone it aloud in church with our minds on cruise control, veering toward the day’s lunch menu. This prayer of Jesus has taken such strong hold that his permanently affixed disclaimer has become a self-fulfilling prophecy. He says, “I’m going to teach you something incredibly important, but you must promise that you will never say these words without thinking.” And of course that’s just what we do.

Then again, through the years, C. H. Spurgeon and others have made the point that we are probably misusing the prayer anyway. Jesus intended it as a model (Matt. 6:9) rather than a precise script. It’s a stick figure prayer, leaving us to clothe it appropriately for the day’s weather. Therefore let’s consider it in that light as we break down the prayer:

1. The target. “Father” occurs ten times in an eighteen-verse stretch in this chapter. We should approach God with the affection of a child climbing into Daddy’s lap.

2. The tense. The entire prayer is present tense. It’s designed for our use wherever we are, and in whatever situation we’re facing. Its model is made for every conceivable moment.

3. The track. The sequence is perfectly conceived. The prayer begins with worship, focusing on God. (Matt. 6:9) Then it connects his eternal world to this temporal one, affirming his will for it. (Matt. 6:10) The prayer brings our needs, whatever they may be, before the Father. (Matt. 6:11) It leads us to confession and forgiveness. (Matt. 6:12) It seeks God’s spiritual strength in the coming moments. (Matt. 6:13)

That’s incredibly comprehensive for fifty or so words, isn’t it? Knowing the Lord’s Prayer, and clothing it for your situation, is a devastating spiritual weapon.

You might wonder about the ending: “For yours is the power, and the kingdom, and the glory . . .” Many of the earlier manuscripts of Matthew don’t include this ending, and (great as it is), it’s considered a liturgical addition by the early church. It does bring the prayer full circle, back to God and his eternal kingdom. I use it out of habit, and there’s no reason you shouldn’t continue to do so.

Such a small prayer, such incredible power. Can you use the power of words to make room for Daddy during the critical moments of your day? What if you found several opportunities to silently move through the prayer, praising God, asking him how his will could be done, underlining your needs, confessing your sin, finding relational rifts to patch, and seeking your Father’s strength for the next hour?

Living the Prayer is the gateway to a new mind. You’ll find yourself seeing your day from heaven’s perspective. And here’s a clue: it’s a lot more exciting than the day’s lunch menu!

Matthew 6:1-8: Honk If You Don’t Blow Your Horn

2009-03-24T04:05:00.000-04:00

Matthew 6:1-8

I love the history of words and expressions because they tell so much about us. I imagine you’ve heard this one: “You’ve got to toot your own horn.” The idea is that self-publicity is essential. That’s a very American, take-the-bull-by-the-horns concept.

The phrase has been traced back, in some form or other, as far as the 1500s, but usually with the opposite meaning: that is, that self-fanfare is a sign of weak character. That’s how Jesus sees it in Matthew 6:2, where we find, presumably, the true origin of the phrase. Jesus has been giving the anatomy of true religion, the point being that it lies inside us. We’ve just seen six examples of misdeeds: murder, adultery, and so on. The sin is rooted in the heart, and therefore we are judged even more strictly, because hearts kill and have affairs constantly.

Now Jesus turns to three good activities: giving, praying, and fasting. Here again, the real action is invisible, he says. And again, we’d better be aware of what we’re really thinking.

Charitable giving was a Hebrew essential, far more than in Greek or Roman culture. So important was it that “righteousness” and “alms-giving” were the same word in the Hebrew language. So when Jesus speaks of displaying righteousness, he is talking about giving to the needy. “Don’t hand out a press release every time you give a beggar a dime,” he is saying.

He points to the Pharisees, who actually taught that publicity increased the blessing. By the way, some have theorized that literal trumpets were blown in the synagogue, but there’s no evidence of that. It’s true that donation bins were sometimes shaped like trumpets, so Jesus could be using a kind of pun. But all that really matters is his point: Giving is between you and God, so don’t make a spectacle out of it.

The Temple held a room called the Chamber of the Silent. When people were aware of sin in their lives, they left money there. Meanwhile, those who were struggling financially secretly received relief from the pool of contributions. Not a bad idea. Jesus says, "Don't let the left hand know what the right hand is doing."

Jesus then turns to prayer, applies the same principle, then teaches the Lord’s Prayer. We’ll get to that later. But let’s examine an interesting point about this entire teaching: the concept of rewards. Jesus never says not to seek a reward; he says not to seek the wrong one. Some seek their reward, he says, in the admiration of others. They get exactly what they wanted, but nothing more. Jesus advises us to seek God’s reward, which is received when our good works are kept between heaven and ourselves. There is a place for group and public prayer, of course, but the deepest reward comes in the time we spend with God, in the “inner room.” When Jesus says, “Go into your room” (Matt. 6:6), he is referring to a Jewish home’s interior room, a kind of closet with no windows. You never had the opportunity to think, “I wonder who will walk by and see my piosity?” This was your time with God, and there could be no ulterior motive.

That’s the reward we seek. C. S. Lewis agrees that spiritual rewards are perfectly honorable goals. There’s nothing wrong with a man seeking love through marriage, he writes. In the same way, there’s nothing wrong with Christians seeking the blessings of intimacy with God. We should give from compassion, but there’s nothing wrong with knowing we’ll receive a blessing (spiritual, not material!). And it helps motivate us to pray when we know we are the ones growing more like Christ because of the activity.

We should be asking ourselves this question. How much of my“spiritual time” is purely public—churchgoing, group Bible study, and the like? How much is purely private?

Matthew 5:21-48: Perfection for Dummies

2009-03-22T03:23:00.000-04:00

Matthew 5:21-48

Jesus has just made a shocking statement. If you’d like to be part of his kingdom, you need a higher score on life’s holiness test than the Pharisees and teachers of the law. He gives six examples, and the point is clear: his standards are out of this world. We’d love to see the world in which people could live this way—which is exactly the point. Jesus begins each example with, “You’ve heard it said,” then spells out his own standard, which always concerns the heart and soul—a place the Pharisees tended to neglect.

1. You’ve heard murder is unlawful? Jesus says anger brings the same judgment from God. And name-calling (“You fool!”) makes one a candidate for hellfire. Oh my.

2. You’ve heard adultery is unlawful? Jesus says lust qualifies. Uh oh!

3. You’ve heard divorce is unlawful? Jesus says that it’s even more unlawful than you thought. (He offers common excuses people make, and qualifies them as adultery.)

4. You’ve heard that oath-breaking is unlawful? Jesus says to forget the “breaking” part, oaths themselves are out. Real Christians say yes or no, then let their word be their bond.

5. You’ve heard it said that the punishment should fit the crime (an eye for an eye)? Jesus says forget the punishment, as far as your personal life goes. Leave vengeance to God. And just for good measure, if someone hits you, let him have another whack at it. If he forces you to work, work even harder than he demands. (You're kidding, right Jesus?)

6. You’ve heard it said to love our friends? Jesus says, so what? Let's talk about loving our enemies, and loving the worst the best. He points out that God sends sunny days and stormy ones to good guys and bad guys alike. In other words, he doesn’t love us or even provide for us based on our performance. That's his way, and it's supposed to be ours. So let's offer a love free of regulations. If we have love rules, what makes us any different from the godless?

That’s what it’s really all about: what makes someone godly. People can obey laws, usually to stay out of jail. But true righteousness comes from the inside out. It's not human nature, and that's what makes it so great. That's what creates the world we'd like to see.

Anger, lust, retaliation—these are typical ingredients of everyday life for the generic earthling. Your dog and cat live by momentary impulses. But what is it that shows the image of God within us, that defies the law of the jungle? Turning the other cheek does that. Putting away lust or remaining faithful to a spouse (deserved or not) get that done. Love an enemy, and sooner or later he’s going to stop and think, “What in the world can account for this behavior?” That's when the light comes on. That's when the salt can be tasted.

Jesus summarizes this section perfectly—and, as usual, perplexingly: “Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect.” Take that statement with strict, unthinking literalism, and you’ll agree it makes no sense. And no piously convenient answers here; yes, we can do it in God's power; the trouble is, it's not happening. I see no perfect people walking around. Not even frequently perfect people. Not even occasionally perfect people. The godliest saint you’ll ever meet is never going to enjoy a single sinless day.

But think about this: We can be perfect, as God is perfect, in a single moment of devoted obedience. We can do that by refusing to be angry. We can, by an act of the will and for the love of God, decide to love the absolute jerk in the car behind us, and we can declare the horn he is honking to be celestial music. Easy? Ha! Far from it. But God does it. As Archie Bunker once said, with questionable theology, "That's how he got to be God." When we rise above the world’s expectations, we get to be godly. We show the unmistakable imprint of heaven upon human flesh. And God says, “Perfect!”

Today someone is going to irritate you. Some thought is going to stray off the path and wander into lust. That's not sin, just temptation. It will be your choice how you respond. Not for a day, not for an hour, but for that moment, you can be a certain kind of perfect. You could sin, but you could also transcend. Why not give it a try?

Matthew 5:13-20: The Law of Light and the Light of Law

2009-03-21T04:45:00.000-04:00

Jesus comes to the last Beatitude—the one about the blessings of maltreatment. There is an absence of applause and fist-pumping from the crowd. He has spoken of a life of powerful, selfless character, but one that may not immediately be rewarded. This gets people thinking about what it means to live in the world. Jesus gives two powerful analogies of that. He says that we are the salt of the earth (Matt. 5:13) and the light of the world (Matt. 5:14).

When we think of salt, we think of flavor. The Jews even used it as a figure of speech meaning, to enliven a conversation (see Colossians 4:6). So Jesus means that we add flavor to society; we make things come to life. That leads to another possible meaning. Salt was used as a preservative. Dead meat would stay “alive” longer (that is, it wouldn’t rot) when salt was applied. Again, salt added life, and Christians should be truly alive, salty in the way that makes people thirsty for the living water that only Christ can provide.

Of course, salt cannot lose its flavor, so what does Jesus mean? The next analogy offers a clue. He says, “You are the light of the world” (Matt. 5:14). A city on a hill, he says, cannot be hidden. Lit by torches at night, you can’t miss it—just as you can’t fail to taste the salt on a bland piece of fish. In Jesus’ teaching, true spirituality is not a light you turn and off, a taste you have or lose. Light is bright, salt is salty, and God’s people are godly.

It’s who we are, and those who know us become thirsty for living water. It’s true, as Jesus says next, that a small light can be consciously hid under a bushel (a basket or clay jar). But it makes no sense; it doesn’t compute. We need to let our faith shine brilliantly.

Jesus now turns to the Hebrew teachings, the laws of Moses. The words of Jesus seem (to his listeners) to fly in the face of rabbinical agendas. Therefore it’s one more surprise when Jesus says that his mission is not to abolish the law but to fulfill it. Jesus sees himself as the culmination of the prophets and their teaching, including John the Baptist. He honors the law, he expects his followers to honor it, and (here comes the punch line) he expects every single one of us to exceed “experts” such as the Pharisees in law fulfillment. Another headache! How we are we going to do that? As with the Beatitudes, we will do so only in the power of God. Otherwise—no chance. From here, he goes on to give six illustrations showing just how impossible it is for us to fulfill the law—especially given his interpretation of it.

Can we break God’s law? Actually, no; we break ourselves upon it. God’s laws are not arbitrary obstacles set in our path to trip us up, and make our lives miserable. They are warnings given because he loves us. They are light to guide us through the darkness. Jesus is showing that the problem is not with the law, but with our inadequate understanding of it.

Matthew 5:3-12: String of Pearls, Crown of Thorns

2009-03-20T01:17:00.001-04:00

Matthew 5:3-12

What’s a “beatitude?” Simply a blessing. But what’s a blessing?

In this particular context, no English word is quite right. It’s not exactly “happy,” as some people translate it. You’re not happy when you mourn, or when people persecute you. When Jesus says, “Blessed are,” what he really seems to mean is, “It will go well with you,” as in, “It will go well with you when you’re poor in spirit; it will go well with you when you mourn.” He’s saying you’re in a good place even though it doesn’t look like one. You’re on the right track if your goal is to experience God.

There are eight “blesseds,” and they tell a cohesive story when we read them in order. The Scottish preacher Alexander MacLaren wrote, “Each Beatitude springs from the preceding, and all twined together make an ornament of grace upon the neck, a chain of jewels.” Of course, when we’re mourning, or poor in spirit, or taking the body blows of persecution, that string of jewels may feel like a crown of thorns.

Here is the process. 1. Poor in spirit. Humility is the beginning of wisdom. Congratulations, you see yourself as you really are. 2. Mourning. This is the natural response to realizing our sinfulness, our absolute lack of any reason for pride. 3. Meekness. Now the Beatitudes turn us outward, to others. Meekness is how we live in society, in light of these realizations. 4. Hunger and thirst for righteousness. We Seeing others through meek eyes, we begin to feel compassion. We want things as God would have them.

5. Merciful. Pursuing what is right always leads to being wronged. But we can be merciful due to godly humility. 6. Pure in heart. About this time, true godliness begins to show in us, because the fires have refined so many impurities in our spirit. And we “see God.” How? In deeper relationship, as well as his presence among us. 7. Peacemakers. Seeing him means becoming like him. We become reconcilers in every conflict, and notice that we are called “the children of God.”

8. Persecuted. Now for the rough part. There is always mistreatment of those who stand in the gap for God in this world. The teacher reminds us what they did to the prophets; they’ll do it again and again. Jesus doesn’t sugarcoat it: “People insult you and persecute you and say all kinds of evil things about you falsely on account of me.” Jesus brings it all back home to the same reward he named in the first Beatitude: Hang in there, because yours is the kingdom of heaven.

So it comes full circle, because as people insult us and attack us, what happens? We are poor in spirit. We mourn. We grow closer to God . . . And the process begins all over again, at ever deeper levels. When we give in, getting angry and fighting the world with its own fire, that cycle of increasing godliness is broken, and the kingdom of heaven becomes a fading vision. Will the circle be unbroken? We can make greater, wider circles in the world, and deeper, closer ones in the orbit of the King. Matthew 5:1-12 is the Bible’s most concise picture of what it means to live as an ambassador of heaven in a fallen world.

One other note: These “blesseds” are not a formula, or a set of stepping stones to salvation. If they were, you and I would be in big trouble. Only in God’s grace and power can we remain poor in spirit, able to give mercy and to pursue righteousness. Even so, we are bound to do better on some days than others. Only one person has typified these Beatitudes; read the passage again with Jesus in mind, and you’ll see that these eight also constitute a mini-biography of Christ. How many of them are evident in Jesus at Gethsemane?

For the rest of us, the goals are lofty—seemingly impossible—but God says, “Just trust in me and try on these pearls. They’re not always comfortable! But rejoice and be glad. Be blessed. You’re on the right track.”

Matthew 5:1-11: Blessed Are the Unblessed

2009-03-19T02:07:00.000-04:00

Matthew 5:1-11

So you’re all on board with the Jesus trip. It's the biggest thing to hit Judea since the prophets, back in the day. The stranger is on a wellness rampage, casting out every disease in sight. You’ve found yourself caught up in the hysteria of the crowd. It’s a cross-country party, complete with several thousand of your closest friends. You would buy the tee shirt, if you had any money, or if tee shirts had yet been invented.

Then you come to a steep embankment. The rabbi has taken a seat near the top; he intends to speak. You push forward to listen, feverish to hear about this new and wonderful kingdom of God where such healings are possible. Yes sir, things are going to be different now! Poverty, Romans, leprosy—all of that suffering stuff is over.

And then Jesus opens his mouth, and the intoxicating air drains right out of the moment.

“Congratulations, low-spirited ones,” he begins. “In the kingdom of heaven, you rule! Congrats, sorrowful friends! You’ll be comforted. And hearty congratulations to the puny and powerless: we're leaving you the earth in our will.”

He goes on like this as you and your buddies look at each other in confusion. Jesus speaks of being hungry for righteousness. (Why even care, under the thumb of dictators?) He talks about being merciful. (Tell that to the Romans and tax collectors.) He talks about being “pure in heart.” (You can’t eat “pure in heart” when you’re hungry.) He talks about making peace—nice, but what everyone really wants is a nice-and-bloody peasant revolt to cast out the trespassing Italians.

What is this guy trying to say? He speaks of the blessedness of having no blessings. Those Pharisee fellows, annoying as they are, always talk about behavior. Everyone can understand that. But this new teacher talks about attitudes—things on the inside. He teaches a kind of upside-down spirituality in which heaven is found in the dust rather than in the sky.

This is how the amazing Sermon on the Mount—particularly these opening Beatitudes—might have sounded to its first audience. We think of the Beatitudes as pleasant, inspiring, and musical, just as we see the cross as a comforting image. In truth, the cross was a bloody hangman’s noose surrounded by a roaring lynch mob; and the words of this sermon are anything but “pleasant.” They are shocking but finally victorious. What they tell us is that there is another world, apart from the unjust, uncaring system of this one. They tell us that when all goes wrong in this world, God is lifting us up in that one. And that no one on earth can ever take that away from us.

The first century (and every other) has insisted upon the idea that the ultimate goal of life is pride of possession rather than humility of spirit. Jesus now begins his teaching ministry with a hint that everything you know is wrong—and that the truth is far more wonderful than you have previously imagined.

Next: Deconstructing the Beatitudes

Matthew 5-7: King on the Hill

2009-03-17T22:12:00.001-04:00

Matthew 5:1-7:29

At the peak of the frenzy surrounding Jesus and his healings, he delivered a sermon that fills three chapters of Matthew. The Sermon on the Mount is surely one of the foundations of western culture and ethics. It defines the very image of what we believe Christianity should “look” like as we seek, in our stumbling way, to live it out in practical terms. The Sermon offers a vision, at least in the mind's eye, of a beautiful society driven by grace, forgiveness, and service rather than the twisted tangle of law-based hypocrisy.

Just as the Underground Railroad was neither underground nor a railroad, the Sermon on the Mount may not have been a sermon, nor delivered on a mount—the area of Galilee, in fact, has no mountains. The “Handbook on the Hill” just doesn’t have the same ring to it, but perhaps it’s closer to what this collection of teachings truly is. Length-wise, the Sermon clocks in at about twenty minutes delivery time--actually more concise than much of what we hear on Sunday mornings. But the wide-ranging content would be an awful lot of information to absorb, particularly in its radical newness.

Luke features a few of the same teachings in his shorter Sermon on the Plain (Luke 6:20-49), then spreads many of the other bits throughout his gospel. Matthew simply liked organizing his writing differently. He groups all his Jesus teaching material in several central locations, simply for organizational purposes. We’re accustomed to modern journalism, but Matthew’s method was the norm for first century historical accounts.

Yet I believe there was a historic Sermon on the Mount. My guess is that Jesus collected a huge entourage of sick and hurting people at this stage. He found a high place where his voice would carry, and then he began to speak all the many wonderful ideas he had been eager to say during the long years when God was preparing his spirit. Much of the Sermon was probably hammered out on a carpenter's bench in Nazareth, and now, in the adrenalin-rush of the moment, with thousands of emotional listeners listening expectantly, Jesus had so many teachings to give, so much hope to issue. The Sermon on the Mount is like the first book of a great author--dizzy, energetic, packed with ideas, and unforgettable.

As we’ll see in the next entry, Jesus began with words of blessing and encouragement for his new nation, the downtrodden. He proclaimed for them a new day of hope. Then he gradually moved from preaching to teaching, illustrating through many life situations what this new world, this kingdom of God would look like—how people would handle anger and lust and marital problems; what true religion would look like; the place of the faithful in a godless society.

I think it went something like that—the “coming out sermon” for Jesus, the first public proclamation of the new kingdom. Imagine being there and hearing those words, carried by the voice of the Lord on the wind, set on a path to change forever how the world thinks about practical faith. This link offers Franco Zeffirelli's cinematic representation of that moment (begin 3:00 into the clip).

Daniel Webster, American's greatest lawyer, died at the age of 70 in 1852. He dictated his own epitaph, which reads as follows: “Philosophical argument, especially that drawn from the vastness, in comparison with the apparent insignificance of this globe, had sometimes shaken my reasons for the faith which is in me. But my heart has always assured and reassured me that the gospel of Jesus Christ must be a divine reality. The Sermon on the Mount cannot be a mere human production. This belief enters into the very depths of my conscience. The whole history of man proves it.”

You and I will share that feeling, as we study the Sermon: Here is something that is no “mere human production”; may this Sermon invade the very depths of our conscience.

Matthew 4:22-25: Word and Work

2009-03-17T21:09:00.000-04:00

Matthew 4:22-25

As the true teaching ministry of Jesus begins, something else also commences: healing. It’s important to see that the two begin together, because they are inextricably linked. This passage shows how Jesus preached in the synagogues, but healed in the streets. From the very beginning, it’s clear that the latter was the true crowd-builder. We’re told elsewhere that people “marveled” at the words of Jesus’ mouth, but for the works of his hands, they came from distant provinces, bearing their sick (Matt. 4:23).

Healing throughout the community is the sign of the genuine fellowship of Jesus Christ. Christianity in our time would have a far better public name if we seemed as concerned with helping the hurting as arranging and rearranging our doctrine. Balanced ministry is defined by Matthew’s formula: teaching, preaching, and healing (compare Matt. 4:23 and Matt. 9:35). Teaching reshapes the mind. Preaching energizes the spirit. Healing nurtures the body. Our faith must always be holistically balanced. What does the church look like when we do all three of these dynamically, empowered by the Holy Spirit?

Matthew 4:12-22: Preaching, Beaching, and Reaching

2009-03-17T02:18:00.000-04:00

Matthew 4:12-22

Jesus emerged from the desert, ready to begin his ministry, only to find out that John’s was over. The Baptizer’s bold words had finally done him in. Herod had married a sister-in-law, clearly in opposition to Hebrew law. John’s constant barbs were only feeding the local contempt for the ruling family. The only way to silence John was to confine him.

Jesus responded in two ways. First, he moved his base from Nazareth to Capernaum. The southern village where he had grown up was now a danger zone, not only because he was linked to John, but on account of incidents related in Luke 4:16-30. It also made sense to move to a fishing and trading community like Capernaum, larger and wide open for ministry. Here is a good video glimpse of the home actually linked to Peter the fisherman. And if you’d like to check out these locations on a map, try this wonderful resource.

The second thing Jesus did was to start preaching exactly where John left off: “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is near” (Matt. 4:17). John’s work of calling out sin wasn’t complete, and Jesus took up the cause. But his ministry would quickly surpass that of his cousin. This will become evident in the Sermon on the Mount, which begins only nine verses later.

Meanwhile, as he preached, Jesus began building his team. As we read this gospel, Jesus simply seems to walk up to strangers and say, “Follow me,” but other gospels affirm that Jesus built relationships with these men before inviting them to pull up stakes and begin a new life. The men certainly would have heard his preaching and been attracted to the rabbi’s charisma. As always, Jesus used the vocabulary of his listeners: “Follow me, and I’ll make you fishers of men.”

It’s important to realize what this would have meant to Peter, Andrew, James, and John—the first and foundational disciples. Fishing in this sea was back-breaking work, and often for little to no result. Heavily-weighted nets were used, and they had repeatedly to be cast into the waves, then pulled back. All day long it went, even if the nets were empty for weeks. This was no matter of baiting a hook, then dozing until there is a gentle tug on the line.

Fishermen were not poor in the time of Jesus; they actually did better than the farmers who worked the land. But the boat-workers earned every penny. Jesus was inviting them to continue breaking their bags, but for an eternal catch. He knew he would need strong men who didn’t discourage easily—men who understood the rhythm of the sea and might eventually comprehend the rhythm of the spirit.

The disciples are often depicted in relatively foolish moments, but these fishermen, the core members of Team Jesus, were constructed of durable fiber. Jesus knew they would be ready to work. They had to learn, but he—then the Holy Spirit—would handle that part.

If Jesus were to walk through your community, fishing for men and women, who might he pick? Who would be considered mentally tough? It might not be the most biblically literate or educated. It could be someone rough and ready, even profane—someone like the kind of dock worker Jesus recruited. In the feeling-oriented faith of today, it’s worth thinking about.

Matthew 4:1-11: Testing 1-2-3

2009-03-16T00:17:00.000-04:00

March 15, 2009

Matthew 4:1-11

The Spirit has arrived, descending in the manner of a dove. And without delay, he leads the Son of God to a remote place, from water to dust, from crowd to quiet. Jesus fasts and prays, never again to know such solitude.

But he is not entirely alone. Heaven’s endorsement of Jesus has attracted the enemy. This will be a time of testing, instigated by Satan but well-used by God. As always, there are echoes of Israel’s past. The Israelites were tested for forty years in the wilderness, just as Jesus will be tested for forty days. We'll also see parallels with the temptation of Eve. The devil won both those rounds.

There are three temptations. Each one raises the stakes substantially, from simple hunger to public popularity to world power. Like two rabbis in a synagogue debate, Jesus and the adversary battle using Scriptural artillery. Jesus draws every answer from Deuteronomy 6-8, as if one short passage of the Word is sufficient to defeat the worst hell has to offer. Here is the game summary:

1. If you’re God’s son, make bread from stones. The most basic human needs are the physical ones. Jesus is famished but he aspires to be the bread of life. He will one day feed 5,000 with miraculous bread—but in God’s timing. This isn’t it.

2. Leap from the temple, into the arms of the angels. The devil shifts from hunger to glory. After that great moment at the river, with cheering crowds, this would be a deeper temptation. Why not make a really big entrance at the temple? Jesus will attain that popularity over the coming year—briefly. But it will come in God’s timing.

3. Submit to me and I give you the world. Satan finally shows Jesus all the kingdoms of the world. This is his final trump card; he knows the destiny inscribed in Jesus’ heart, which, at the end of time, will involve his lordship over all of humanity. The devil is saying, “Why wait? Why face a cross? You can have it all, right now.” Again, it must be done in God’s way, in God’s time.

Notice that Satan recycles the same basic outline he used in the Garden of Eden, in which he tempted Eve with appetite (Gen. 3:1), avoidance of pain (Gen. 3:4), and absolute power (Gen. 3:5). Be assured, however, that his approach to you will be personalized. The devil is no fool. He pores over your blueprints to find out what makes you tick. He starts with your simple urges, moves to emotional needs, and finally uses your own destiny against you if that's what it takes.

I once knew a very wise college professor who said, “For two thousand years, the church has been convinced that Jesus should have jumped off the pinnacle of that temple.” If the Son of God had answered to a board of directors (God forbid), he would have been pressured to make a bigger splash--dive off the temple before an HBO audience; cut deals with the Romans; create a merger with the Pharisees; and of course, the all-popular "establish a brand." Crucifixion wouldn't have even been considered. Hey, we do what we can to make the kingdom bigger and better, right?

Jesus comes through his trial by avoiding shortcuts, clinging to Scripture, and knowing exactly what God wants from him. If he had eaten the bread of rocks, he could never have been the bread of life. If he had cast himself down for the angels, he would never have been lifted up for the sinful. If he had seized the world by force, he could never have won it with love.

When you face a trial, ask yourself: What are the shortcuts that will cost me? What is the Jesus option? How can I grow from this crisis? It’s all about doing it God’s way; all other ground is sinking sand. Finally, remember what lies at the other end of the test: “Blessed is the man who perseveres under trial, because when he has stood the test, he will receive the crown of life that God has promised to those who love him” (James 1:12).

Matthew 3:13-17: River and Sky

2009-03-15T20:23:00.000-04:00

March 15, 2009
Matthew 3:13-17

Then, just like that, John was looking into those eyes. Imagine the chill that must have ascended his spine. This was a moment of transcendence: the last prophet of an epoch, passing the torch to the New and the Eternal. Only these two men in all the world could have understood the significance of this river-drenched moment.

Or perhaps John harbored secret doubts. These two—cousins—had probably played together as children. John was the first to see his God-given gifts flame into glory. Disciples came forward to follow him, crowds to respond to him, and there were whispers that he was none other than Elijah of old, finally back after vanishing into the heavens on his chariot. John stifled such talk—he knew he was no old soul, nor was messianic DNA within him.

But what about Jesus? In Matthew 11, we find evidence of lingering doubt: the imprisoned John, awaiting his execution, sends a messenger to ask Jesus to confirm once and for all whether he is the One. It’s an honest human moment in a bigger-than-life story.

Now, however, on the day of baptism, John looks into these eyes and sees infinity. Shaken, he invites Jesus to baptize him instead. Surely no man is worthy to immerse this one, or to give any appearance of spiritual superiority! In any case, what sins are there to be forgiven in Jesus? He has no need of repentance.

Jesus doesn’t disavow John’s humility. He says, “Let it happen now,” translated as “allow it” or “permit it” (Matthew 3:15). For this time and place, he is saying, it’s the right thing to do. Go with the moment. This hour was planned before the foundation of time. Jesus is being commissioned, his mission will be all about new birth, and the present water symbolism is just right.

Have you ever felt yourself unworthy? Not “righteous” enough to discuss your faith? Not learned enough to teach a lesson? Jesus says to you and me just what he says to John:
“We must fulfill all righteousness.”

Fulfilling all righteousness is the daily business of God, and he uses an all-volunteer staff. Sometimes he sends a task right up to you, has it tap on your shoulder and say, “Help me out here.” “I’m not worthy” is the wrong answer. Jesus says, “let it happen now.” The passive voice (let it rather than do it) indicates that someone else is really behind your efforts. That’s why John can preside over the commissioning of God’s Son, and you can do things that seem far over your head.

As Jesus rises from the water, something incredible happens. We receive a gift: a quick glimpse of the Triune God, expressed in the newly commissioned Son, the descending Spirit, and the voice that comes from none other than the Father. God expresses himself in all three natures at this incredible moment. Note that the Holy Spirit is not a dove, though it makes a nice painting. He is “descending like a dove” (Matthew 3:16). In an audible voice, God boasts that he is one proud Father.

Down by the riverside, a new era for humanity begins. But Jesus is soon to face his first test, and no easy one.

Matthew 3:1-12: Audience Warmup

2009-03-14T03:33:00.000-04:00

March 14, 2009
Matthew 3:1-12

Thirty years pass. Finally Matthew is ready to resume the story--but without Jesus.

John the Baptist was a commanding figure, a local celebrity in his own right. There had been other hellfire-and-brimstone preachers. There had been other desert eccentrics. But no one had done things quite like John.

For one thing, he baptized people. The concept itself wasn't new, but it had generally been a self-serve proposition--a kind of regular, ceremonial washing done privately. Solemn, one-time baptism was strictly for non-Jews who wanted to convert. Now here came John to say that baptism was for everyone--that means you, God's chosen people!

Secondly, he had a controversial approach to the coming kingdom of God. That was a subject that always drew a crowd, given the dismal state of current events. People wanted to know the estimated time of arrival for the promised Deliverer. But John wanted to know the estimated time for your personal repentance. "When will you clean up your act, so you'll be ready for that kingdom?" He answered their question with a question, and a rude one at that. Well! To an audience accustomed to self-pity, this wasn't a happy message--not at first, anyway.

On the plus side, crowds were enthusiastic about the parts where John B lit into the Herodeans, the Pharisees, and the Sadducees--all the "haves" who lorded it over the "have nots." In this passage he calls them snakes, then he tells them they're trees right before the axe swings. None of these things were viable ways to win friends and influence people. Which didn't matter. John the Baptist could create a massive audience--not on Main Street, either, but in the middle of the desert! That's charisma.

Here is what John's speech, taken from this passage, might sound like today: "I'm telling you people, clean it up--all of it--because God is coming around that corner, any minute now." Then, spotting the Pharisees and Sadduccees: "Look, everyone, here comes the rattlesnake and his good buddy the pit viper! Didn't I advise you worms to hide in your holes? You're about to be stepped on with a hobnailed sandal unless you figure out how to make yourselves useful to somebody. And please, don't feed me that stale line about being God's Chosen People. God can reach under your big toe and make a Chosen Rock that is less of a waste of molecules than you guys are. By the way, if you could be any tree, you know which it would be? A stump; like I say, any minute, now."

Then, having rankled the dignitaries, John turns back to the crowd and says, in a hushed tone that is all business, "This water here: Believe me when I say I can only wash away the dirt on your skin. But That One, the one who is on his way as I speak--he can spit-shine you right down to the core of your invisible soul. He makes it happen with fire from heaven. And my friends, I'm not qualified to be the slave who could carry his dirty sandals. His fire will purify you--or it will consume you for all eternity. Your move."

Someone standing in the crowd, hearing these words, would begin to contemplate this idea of repentance--of turning once and for all and pointing one's life 180 degrees away from the wretchedness of sin. Indeed, John the Baptist was preparing a way for the Lord. He had made a straight path, and an infinitely wide one, for all those wanting to come to the kingdom, and finding that the kingdom had come to them.

Matthew 2:13-23: Walk Like an Egyptian

2009-03-13T20:04:00.000-04:00

March 13, 2009
Matthew 2:13-23

Again with the angels. Herod is powerful and cruel; the Son is tiny and exposed. As a man, Jesus will one day stand before a Roman procurator, capable of deciding his own destiny. But now, as an infant, he needs sheltering parents plus supernatural protection. When we are utterly helpless, God sends his angels. But the time comes when we must make a hard decision whether to lift that cross and walk on.

Egypt, we learn, was an established place for Jews to lay low. It had a thriving Hebrew community. Joseph and family waited it out in the land of the Pharaohs until the ruler's death, which occured in 4 BC, one to three years after Jesus was born. Herod had obsessively squandered all his energy in keeping his place, but he went the way of all flesh.

By this time, however, he had murdered a number of male children under two in the vicinity of Bethlehem. If that strikes the skeptic as a fairy tale, know that history affirms that Herod also murdered his wife and three of his sons; he drowned a high priest. On his deathbed, he commanded a number of executions to ensure a state of mourning for his death day. An apocryphal quote from Augustus was that he'd rather be Herod’s sow than his son; the sow had a better chance of surviving among the Jews.

Yet again with the angel: With Herod's death, Joseph is immediately instructed to come home. But Bethlehem is now to be avoided, since Archelaus, Herod's son, rules that turf. Nazareth therefore becomes the boyhood home of Jesus.

In such a sketchy biography of Joseph, we know that he was guided by dreams on four occasions. Two of these involved taking his family to Egypt. Note the intertwining of Old Testament and New here. Joseph from Genesis was also guided by several dreams--and it was the earlier Joseph who also brought his family to Egypt for shelter. His descendants only left the bondage of Egypt after the slaying of the firstborn--which brings us full circle to Herod's act. God weaves intriguing patterns into the mosaic of history, which is, after all, his story.

Matthew 2:1-1: Star Search

2009-03-13T03:34:00.000-04:00

March 12, 2009

Matthew 2:1-12

If Matthew were the only gospel we had, think of what we'd miss: Nativity night, the shepherds, the swollen streets of Bethlehem. No cattle lowing here--Matthew is silent about that night. He gives Bethlehem itself a brief mention on his way to the real topic: Regal visitors from the East! Matthew, with the words "king" and "royal" always at the front of his mind, gives star billing to this inquisitive delegation of ambassadors.

There are many misconceptions about the Magi. They hadn't "followed" the star in the way we often imagine. Actually they had observed it back home and headed West on a fact-finding mission. Jerusalem was a sensible place for questioning, and there they learned of the prophecy about Bethlehem (Micah 5:2). When they proceeded there, the star reappeared; "Behold! The star!" is the excited Greek expression of Matthew 2:9. "They rejoiced with great joy" is the meaning of Matthew 2:10. Matthew doesn't want us to miss the drama of this moment of faith redeemed after many wondering miles of travel. The star didn't lead them step by step; it demanded their faith and commitment. The spiritual life works that way: we see the light, we often follow in darkness and doubt, and we rejoice when the light comes on again, telling us it's all been worthwhile.

Thrilled and overcome by curiosity, the visitors enter the home beneath the great light. They present their gifts and their worship. And later, perhaps it is an angel who warns them in a dream (Joseph's angel indeed came in a dream) to go home by another way, avoiding the dangers of Herod. Angels lurk at every corner of this story--with Mary, with Luke, with the relative Zechariah (Luke 1:18), and on Christmas night with the multitude described by Luke. Angels are God's messengers, and this event is God's ultimate message. They were working overtime.

When does the Magi visit happen? We'd love to imagine those regal visitors in the manger, mingling with the peasant shepherds, petting the sheep. But the Bible doesn't tell it that way. Some time has passed, because Joseph and Mary have now found a house (v. 11) and Jesus is, according to the terminology, a child rather than an infant. Not only do we ponder the when; we're a bit foggy on the who, the how, and the why, too. Exactly who were the three--or were there three? The Bible actually doesn't even tell us that. Nearly everything we know about the Magi is the invention of tradition. Where did they come from, and why was this trip so important?

The term magi refers to a class of wise men and priests, often associated with astrology. They indeed came because of a star, or what appeared to be one. If Christians today made such decisions based upon astrology, we'd brand them as occultists. But at least in this unique case, God used the night sky and the contemporary "science" surrounding it to glorify himself, and even to invite practitioners of eastern religions. The Magi may have been Zoroastrians--that is, pagans, if not New Age, at least Old Age. We have to face it, we might as well have three fashionably-dressed Hindus or Buddhists in our living room nativity sets. God has a way of being politically incorrect at times, using all manner of things and people in his grand design. As C. S. Lewis said, Aslan is not a tame lion, just a good one.

What about Herod? He would have been troubled by the family tree of Matthew 1. It turns out that his own lineage made him a questionable choice for the throne; he was not from the house of David, nor even of Jacob--Herod descended from the non-patriarchal Esau; he had come "home" by another way himself. Herod seems to have known this and been quite insecure about it. The people held his lineage (among other things) against him. And if odd foreigners were streaming in, talking about a newborn king, that was the last thing an unstable monarch wanted to hear. No wonder he began plotting against the infant. We might think his actions a bit melodramatic, but the assassination of child rivals is commonplace in royal history.

About the gifts--gold, frankincense, and myrrh--much is often said, but the symbolism of each is really speculation. The real meaning of the gifts is that they funded a journey of safe passage to Egypt for the holy family. Men coming from such a distance enable the three to leave on a journey of their own.

Matthew 1:18-25: Faith of Our Fathers

2009-03-12T23:05:00.000-04:00

March 11

Matthew 1:18-25

Matthew continues to pursue his story from the paternal side. Since the writer seems to have inside information on Joseph's private experiences, it has been suggested that he interviewed either Joseph or someone who knew Joseph's experiences. In the same way, Luke brings us the story from Mary's point of view. Thus the narrative comes to us, little as we have, in full stereo.

In the previous section we considered the fact that Jesus was no biological son of Joseph. But now it becomes personal, not simply theoretical. We are invited to step into the carpenter's sandals and feel what he must have felt, in learning of his fiancee's pregnancy. In those times, the scandal would be severe. It's intriguing that the angel didn't let Joseph in on the plan immediately; Mary received early warning from her angel, but Joseph was left to absorb the shock in the dark for a time. Was this a test of Joseph's readiness? If so, he passed it. He did the honorable thing for the time, planning to handle the situation in such a way that Mary would not be humiliated. Matt. 1:20 tells us that as soon as he decided on taking the high road, the angel then came to fill him in. Mary, probably younger and having the full burden of carrying the child, was spared the harshness of such a test. Joseph, to his credit, came through with flying colors.

Matthew will regularly tell us that something happened "in order to fulfill the prophecy." In this case, he tells us how Joseph was told to use the name Jesus (Yeshua, God is salvation), then gives us the old prophecy in which a separate name--not Jesus--was foretold (Emmanuel, God with us). Clearly Matthew finds no contradiction here. The point of the prophecy from Isaiah 7:14 is the meaning of the child, not his precise name; remember that the meanings of names were extremely important in Hebrew culture.

Taken together, the two names give us an astonishingly complete picture of who Jesus is: God with us, God saving us. We will receive a multitude of other names for Jesus in the balance of the New Testament, but these two tell the story. The angel takes it a step further, telling us that Jesus will save his people specifically "from their sins."

From the beginning, then, Mary and Joseph had the basic knowledge of their son's identity; the extent to which they truly took it in, in all its magnitude, who can say? Since Mary, by some accounts, could have been as young as 12, and no older than 16, this was quite a trust to be handed down from heaven. It's also worth considering that this was probably an arranged marriage from the beginning. Difficult as marriage can be, imagine the tension of working out a relationship with a pre-assigned life partner, then being quickly given the stewardship of a baby messiah by God! The peasant couple from obscure Nazareth had quite a challenge to cope with.

We are told that Joseph took Mary as his wife, but the two remained celibate before the birth of Jesus. It had been during the traditional one-year waiting period, the proving ground of patience, that Joseph discovered Mary's condition. He has been pushed to the limit and found faithful, obedient, kind, and loving--a worthy father figure for a heavenly infant. We know little enough about Joseph factually, but by his fruit we know him quite well.

Matthew 1:1-17: A Tree of Life

2009-03-12T17:28:00.000-04:00

March 10, 2009

Matthew 1:1-17

Matthew is the right gospel to lead off the New Testament. Why? It wasn't the first; we think Mark held that distinction. It wasn't the most theologically profound; that is certainly John. Nor is it the warmest and most human; for my money, that's Luke. Matthew is the essential gospel, the one most loaded with pure teaching, with scraps of simple parables, with all the key events. But it also stands powerfully in the gap between the Old Testament and the New, between the Hebrew faith and a world faith.

We see that in the very first verses, where we are always a bit surprised to find a family tree rather than a family nativity. Compare the first sentence to those of its three companions. Each gospel tips it hand with regard to its central mission. Mark, in his terse and tense way, marks "the beginning of the gospel of Jesus Christ, the Son of God." And he rapidly launches into prophecy and fulfillment. Luke gives his recipient a proper preface, setting the cultural context of the gospels of his day, and promises an "orderly account." John leads with power and high philosophy, giving a cosmic context.

But Matthew opens up the Hebrew family Bible and copies down a line of fathers and grandfathers, back to Abraham, the patriarch of the Hebrew nation. Jesus as a historical figure is (as always) taken for granted. What matters to Matthew is that Jesus is a straight-line descendant of the first Jews by way of David, Solomon, Josiah, and finally a carpenter named Joseph, whose lineage was royal even if the facts of his life were humble. What is remarkable, of course, is that all of this is made explicit even as Joseph is not the father of Jesus in any biological sense. If we were not talking about the Son of God, the preceding genealogy would thus be rendered meaningless.

It will fall to Luke to give us the mother's family tree--he casually comes to that only in the third chapter. Then, Luke will work backward from Jesus to Mary to Abraham--but clear back to Adam.

So in the end, Jesus didn't need Joseph to provide a royal family identity, or even a human one; Mary gave him both. But Matthew, and the Spirit who inspired him, honor the place and good name of the father here. We may know little about Joseph by the time he quietly slips from the pages of the gospels, but we see his fruit. He is the role model for Jesus, the male who shaped the Lord's masculinity on earth.

Matthew's genealogy also quickly disavows any idea, gnostic or otherwise, that Jesus was simply a cosmic spirit, a quasi-human, or even a figment of some first century scribe's imagination. Before anything else is said, Matthew wants you to know who Jesus is and who his people are. If Joseph is not a biological father, he is a substantial historical marker, showing that Jesus has a context in real time and real space. He lived and breathed as certainly as the men and women who preceded him.

Matthew looks over the family tree and offers this intriguing formula: Abraham-David = 14 gen. David-bondage = 14 gen. Bondage-Bethlehem = 14 gen. "But when the fullness of the time had come, God sent forth His Son" (Galatians 4:4). We are reminded here about who it is who controls the flow and disruptive torrent of history: not men, not monarchs, not markets. God writes his lessons across the epochs: a season to reach the height, an equal season to plumb the depth; an equal season to await heaven's rescue. In one verse Matthew measures out a nation's history--make that a world's.

It's important to note, however, that most scholars agree that Matthew doesn't list every name in the family tree. This also sets up a few minor discrepancies with Luke's list. Matthew is making larger points here, one of which is the rise, ruin, and redemption of Israel.

Another is the surprising inclusion of four women before Mary. That's unique enough, culturally speaking, but all of these also carry some skeleton in their closet. Tamar and Rahab were prostitutes. Ruth was an alien from Moab (Consider that the purpose of this list is to establish regal Hebrew blood.) Bathsheba was an adulterer with David. Yet each has her place in history's pivotal family line.

We have these subtle foreshadowings of the remarkable story Matthew is about to tell us: that of a king from heaven whose family history nonetheless looks as humble and imperfect as yours or mine. So what if Jesus didn't carry Joseph's DNA? So what if women--questionable characters at that--are included in a cultural context that would be an exclusive men's club in normal conditions.

This is going to be a story that challenges every paradigm, and Matthew is eager to tell it.