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Imitators of Christ, discipleship
Imitators of Christ, discipleship Entries from August 1, 2011 - August 31, 2011
Follow the Loser
Thursday, August 11, 2011 at 11:19AM 
The class held about thirty students. A class that size guarantees a mix of sleepers, zombies, texters and those rare few who participate in discussion. We spent the whole hour talking about the words of Jesus, “Be perfect as your Heavenly Father is perfect.” Is is possible? Can we really become like God? Was Jesus serious?
One student seemed to pay particular attention but hadn’t spoken up once during the period. I decided to draw her into the discussion: “We’re just about done for today. Tiffanie, you’ve been listening hard but haven’t offered your opinion. Why don’t you have the last word?”
She shifted in her seat uncomfortably and said, “I don’t know if He was serious, but one thing’s for sure: you ain’t Jesus.”
She got that right.
Yet somehow Jesus asks us to lift our vision higher--high enough to see the possibilities of becoming like our Heavenly Father. That’s a problem: how are we to become like him? The problem grows deeper when we discover that he has ordained the use of imperfect and frail human beings to shape others into the image of Christ.
Most believers quickly jump to the defense of their own shortcomings with the excuse, “I’m not Jesus.” Of course not. Who could be? So deeply do we hold the conviction that we cannot measure up, it also becomes our handy defense to keep other believers at arms length--far enough away to prevent them from effectively shaping us into the image of Jesus.
We welcome the idea that--someday--we will be conformed to the image of Christ. We‘re a little fuzzier on how, exactly, that happens. The answer is both obvious and surprising: the Father uses other people to fashion us into the pattern of Christ.
For many Christians, this is a frightening prospect. This conversation could happen at nearly any church between an earnest disciple and a pastor:
“You're trying to change me!” complains the disciple.
“You don't think you need to change?” asks the pastor.
“Well, yes, but not by you!”
In other words, we acknowledge our need of Christlikeness but feel no one is qualified to help effect the change.
How does our perfect Lord expect imperfect people to shape others into his image? The hyper-spiritual answer is usually, “No one can do that: He has to do it, by his Spirit.” Such an answer sounds spiritual, but ignores that God has chosen to much of his work through other people.
“Be imitators of me, just as I also am of Christ.”
The Apostle Paul had little trouble offering himself as an example of the path to spiritual transformation. Was he proud, or practical? His words appear at the end of a long theological discussion about whether the Christians of that day should eat meet offered to pagan idols (1 Corinthians 10 & 11). The real issue was whether these believers would judge one another over the choices they made. Sound familiar? Finally, after looking at all sides of the question, Paul got practical: “Look, just do what I do.” He could offer himself as an example not because he was so smart, but because he could demonstrate how to live in peace among Christians of differing opinion. The unspoken message is that Christlikeness is not a matter of opinion, but of how we live out our life with one another. Having examples helps: not amount of theology can replace the need for a living example.
Paul had no trouble suggesting that Timothy should follow his example: “You, however, know all about my teaching, my way of life, my purpose . . . But as for you, continue in what you have learned and have become convinced of, because you know those from whom you learned it” (2 Timothy 3: 10 & 14) And this is from Paul, who earlier described himself to Timothy as “the foremost of sinners!”
What about us? Do we have someone to imitate? Before we jump in with the spiritual answer, I imitate Jesus, perhaps we should consider if Jesus himself has not given us someone a little closer to home as an intermediate step. Who can I imitate? It worked for Timothy, and it worked for Paul.
I can almost hear the voice of that girl from my classroom: “One thing’s for sure: you ain’t Paul, either!”
Monday's Meditation: Ministry and Grief
Monday, August 8, 2011 at 09:56AM 
John the Baptist was a great man. So great, Jesus said, that up until his day, no one born of a woman was greater than John. Yet in Matthew’s gospel (chapter 14) we read of his death: a death so random, unfortunate and petty we could be excused for looking up from the pages to ask, “Father, how could you let this happen?” I wonder if Jesus had the same question.
In the verses that follow the news of John’s death we are given a window into how Jesus dealt with bad news. There are at least five meditations on how to process the senseless sadness we sometimes encounter:
- Jesus had the experience of receiving unexpected bad news. (v13) We are not alone in our surprise and grief: our Lord himself lived through events unforeseen and had to deal with shock and sadness. When we are overcome with senseless suffering we will find Jesus there with us.
- Jesus needed space and time to process: “When Jesus heard what had happened, he withdrew by boat privately to a solitary place” (v13). This was his way. Time and again the gospels share one of the primary sources of the Lord’s strength--he took measures to be alone with the Father. The solitary place need not be the place grief, it can also be the place of comfort.
- Sometimes events overtake our personal needs: “Hearing of this, the crowds followed him on foot from the towns. When Jesus landed and saw a large crowd, he had compassion on them and healed their sick” (vs 13-14). Most people knew nothing or cared little for Jesus’ sadness. They had their own sadness, and they looked to him for relief. Amazingly, Jesus didn’t hang “Do Not Disturb” on the doorknob. He was filled with compassion for them and took action. Setting aside his own need, he modeled for us again that the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve others.
- Jesus taught the disciples to follow his example: “They do not need to go away. You give them something to eat” (v16). At least two of Jesus’ disciples had been with John the Baptist previously. The Lord wanted them to focus on the needs of others as those needs presented themselves. Five thousand people were fed, even as Jesus and his disciples wrestled with their own pain. It’s a parable: when we are weak, he is strong. Miraculously strong on behalf of others.
- Still, Jesus needed time alone: “After he had dismissed them, he went up on a mountainside by himself to pray. Later that night, he was there alone” (v23). Events had overtaken Jesus’ original plan. The narrative starts with him slipping away in a boat for some down time. He remembered his initial purpose and took the opportunity to see it through. Jesus demonstrates the balance between his own need and the needs of others. Even while he displayed compassion he did not lose sight of his deep need to process with the Father. Eventually he got there. With some intentionality we can, too.
These five meditations are ours for the taking. The life Jesus lived was a life just like ours. He modeled the way of peace, both for himself and others.
If Only The Future Were Now
Thursday, August 4, 2011 at 01:06PM 
Here’s a no-brainer:
The heavens declare the glory of God;
the skies proclaim the work of his hands.
Together, we stand awed by creation. Stars, mountains, plains, wind, sea and sky: each of them has the power to ravish our hearts and mess with our minds. It’s no less true simply because everyone knows it: all creation sings the greatness and God’s glory.
Even our fallen creation--a world beset by storm and drought--reflects the mind-numbing image of the infinite Creator-God. It doesn’t matter if nature is ‘red in tooth and claw:’ through the veil of sin-afflicted creation we can still catch a glimpse of eternity, and what we see is enough to stagger our footing.
Yet today I’m wondering about something beyond creation. If nature reflects the glory of God, how much more should the new creation? The day will come when all creation is restored to a magnificence beyond the garden of Eden. Revelation describes a paradise/city, given directly from God, occupying the space we call “Earth.” Lions lie down with lambs. The tree of life bears fruit in every season, its leaves healing the nations. The river of God flows to the ends of the earth. It sounds amazing, doesn’t it? Creation will be so glorious that every atom and molecule will itself sing the praise of God.
If only there were some way for the glory of that future world--restored and redeemed, empowered with resurrection life--to declare the glory of God even more fully than the heavens and all of creation in this age. If only.
But wait: I seem to recall something about a new creation among us, in the here and now. Let’s see . . . it’s here somewhere . . . just a moment . . . yes, here it is:
Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here! (2 Corinthian 5: 17)
Here is an amazing fact: the citizens of the restored heaven and earth (which is not yet revealed) are being born now. Born from above. And even more staggering: we are the glory of the future age made manifest now.
Is it possible that the majesty of the age to come could be exhibited in us, now? Paul wrote these words to a rag-tag group of believers in the City of Corinth. He had carefully laid the foundation for his amazing statement throughout 2nd Corinthians:
- In chapter one he reveals that whatever comfort he has received is his to give to others (vs 3-7). In the age to come God himself comforts his people; in this present age his new creation people are here now to comfort others,
- In chapter two Paul describes an aroma of the age to come (vs 14-16) To some it smells lovely, to others it is the stench of death--but its source is not of this age.
- In chapter three he reminds us that the Old Covenant was capable of generating a visible glow on Moses' face. The New Covenant is capable of an even greater impact on our physical bodies (vs 12-18)
- In chapter four we discover that we are vessels of an “all-surpassing power” (vs 7-12). These are the powers of the age to come, which we steward in jars of clay, leaking bits of eternity into this present age.
Paul is trying to indicate that we are the harbingers of the age to come. The cracked and flawed containers so characteristic of the fading glory of fallen creation are revealing the glory of a new creation. It’s not simply a theological position: Paul is describing a reality. Followers of Jesus carry resurrection-life within them. That resurrection-life is given by God at the new birth to glow through us, radiate from us, even fill the room with a fragrance of flowers from paradise. We must choose whether these are mere metaphors, or if Paul is describing the reality of new creation--a new creation implanted within us when we are born from above.
Would it be too mystical for me to tell you I’ve met followers of Jesus who quite literally glow with his glory and smell of eternity? I have. And my contact with such believers stirs in me the desire to live as if the age to come could be manifested in my body as well. They radiate the age to come, and I am filled with yearning for a homeland I've yet to see.
John Mark McMillan expresses the same desire:
I want to shine with the glory of an unveiled face
I want to radiate with the fire of You
I want to shout from the roof what I hear in dark
I want to be dangerous with the truth
I will be Your lamp if You will pour the oil
If You light the incense, I will be Your censer
I will be Your tabernacle if You will be my ark
I will be Your body if You will be my heart
Perhaps we could pray together: “Let it come through me, because I am a part of the new creation.”
Monday's Meditation: The Depth of Stillness
Monday, August 1, 2011 at 10:37AM 
I used to think the silence meant God wasn’t speaking. Now, in the silence, he’s all I hear.
As a young man I would look to the stars, overwhelmed by the beauty of the night sky. I knew from Psalm 19 that the heavens declared the glory of God. I could see his greatness, but could not hear his voice. Even in their majesty I would wonder why God was so silent. My prayers, especially at night, were filled with requests and concerns. I would list my needs one by one, unaware that my greatest need was stillness.
Of the many needs of North American believers, silence is among the greatest. Silence is the blank page on which God writes his word. Our noisy world scribbles on the page continually, overlaying sound and word on top of word and sound until the page becomes black. Unless the page is clean we cannot read what God has written.
The pathway of modern life has been hardened, trampled by words. Back in the day you had to visit Times Square; now Times Square visits you. The sower sows the seed but it falls on the path and is carried away by SportsCenter, YouTube, NPR, FoxNews, and our ubiquitous earbuds. Quiet is an aberration. When Maxwell Smart uses the Cone of Silence, the point is that everyone simply has to shout louder. Drop any comedian into a monastery and he’ll have the monks doing hip-hop before it’s over. Even our Bibles are cluttered with sidebars and graphics, pictures and celebrity interpretations.
But what if God is in the silence? He wasn’t in the whirlwind or earthquake for Elijah. The “still, small voice” is still a whisper. Perhaps the Father has his reasons for not raising is voice. I suspect it’s for our good that we find him in the secret place, well away from Times Square. This week’s meditation is actually quite, well, meditative: why not create a secret place each day and give him just three minutes of blank slate? The Father doesn’t need a podcast to reach our hearts. If we find his presence in the silence it will be enough.
