students of jesus

It was sometime during elementary school, but I still remember that moment when I first realized I was surrounded by . . . air! I wasn’t surrounded by nothing, I was surrounded by something. The wonder carried me away: I was swimming through the air. If I raised my arm above my shoulder, it meant the air around me was moving, too.

My childish imagination kicked in strong: what would it be like to see the air, cool blue and warm red? Was I breathing colors? I saw it with my imagination: inhale a faint celestial blue and exhale rose-colored pink. I could see the air move and mix and blend, or watch it settle, still and motionless, level as a lake. My head was filled with Impressionist masterpieces, the sky swirling with hues and shades too subtle for those in a hurry, but a rainbow for those with eyes to see.

But before long higher education crushed my wonder. In science class I learned about air pressure and wind resistance. The beauty of my childhood faded into the orthodoxy of physics, climate, and chemistry. The atmosphere became one more domain to be studied and measured.

Until one day. (I remember this day as well.) I read the amazing words of Paul as he addressed the skeptical, logical people of Athens, that city where diplomats and philosophers gathered on a hill named Mars, for the God of war. Paul quoted a Greek mystic from centuries before, and I saw the invisible God in much the same way I had imagined how the air must be:

“ . . . For in him we live and move and have our being.” (Acts 17:28)

The child in me was released again. I saw again the living, moving, breathing God! How could I avoid him—and more important: how could I have missed him? When I walk from the bedroom to the kitchen, I walk through God. When I walk into a new situation, God is there, waiting for me. Even the darkness is light to him. He inhabits the day and the night. Intuitively I understood a distinction: everything is not God, but God is in everything. True, the theologians had already told me God was omnipresent, but in doing so they reduced him to a concept I could memorize and recite. But I do not need lifeless facts; I need him.

“He is not far from each one of us.” The vast Creator surrounds us like the air. We breathe the air. It penetrates through our lungs to our very blood, and the blood delivers it to every cell. God himself is the life-giving air. Our vast swirling God is also intimate enough to be with each of us.

I used to think silence meant God was not speaking. Now, in the silence, he’s all I hear. We need not go anywhere to find him, because the slightest shift of our gaze reveals his nearness. If I am alive, if I move, I am encountering him. In every part of my being, he is here. Can you see the air?

I'm thrilled to present a guest-post from my good friend Andrea Giordano.

Saul of Tarsus first encountered Jesus in a dramatic fashion. A light flashed all around him, and he fell to the ground with a thud. Then, he heard a voice that he did not recognize. It called to him, "Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?" 

Shocked and confounded, Saul called back, "Who are you, Lord?" 

The voice resounded again, "I am Jesus." 

Though Saul had spent his life in the Scriptures, he still was unaware of what God sounded like. Can you imagine that? You believe you’re at the top of your religious game, only to find out later that you had missed God the whole time? Knowing God's words, but never knowing his voice? Saul's conversion experience set the stage for his entire life. He instantly went from Saul, the persecutor of Christians, to Paul, the apostle. He had met Jesus and would not soon forget the Lord’s voice. The beauty was that because he had heard the voice once, he would recognize a familiar voice when he would hear God again. 

This voice is what would enable Paul to know how to live out the life God had called him to. Paul needed more than just the Scriptures to know God's will. He relied on God's voice to speak to him about where to travel, what to say, and how to tend his heart. 

The truth is we all need to hear the voice of God. His thoughts on who we are and what we do are as invaluable as heaven itself. But can I recognize God's voice? Do I allow myself to trust what I believe to be God's opinion on my life? 

Most of us would agree we want this type of communication with God. However, most of us would also admit we have a hard time when we think we hear him speaking. 

If you have a willing heart, the kind of heart that is humbly open to the Father's voice, I offer these suggestions for getting to know the voice of God: 

1) Remember a time God has spoken to you in the past. Anyone who has said "yes" to Jesus for salvation has heard his voice. Like Paul, we have heard a call, even if it didn't knock us on the ground. Reflect on what it felt like when that voice called to you the first time.

2) Ask God to speak to you and then listen. Here's a quick exercise that I sometimes do. Close your eyes and picture Jesus. Look into his eyes, and then ask him if he has anything he wants to tell you. Then watch and listen. If a thought or picture pops in your mind the instant you ask God for a word, you can generally trust that it's him. You have just asked for bread, and God won't give you a stone. 

3) See if peace accompanies the word you hear. Whenever I think I’ve heard the Lord speak to me, I take a minute and hold the word out before Him. If I feel His peace settle on it, I can trust it. If guilt, worry, or fear feels attached to what I just heard, I can assume that it wasn't Him. If something you hear is defined by love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control, you can rest assured that the Spirit has come close. 

4) Act on words that require obedience. This can be the most difficult part about hearing God. At times, God will ask us to step out in faith. We should follow his lead. I have a friend who says that if you ever feel like God has gone silent, remember what the last thing was he asked you to do, and make sure you do it. Obedience invites more communication. It says to the Father, "I believe your words are trustworthy." 

God is looking for friends who will allow themselves to be forever changed by His voice. Even now, God is speaking. What do you hear Him saying? 

My favorite spectator sport is politics. I can appreciate a skillful politician of nearly any viewpoint, if he or she excels in the craft. I laugh at the pol who makes a mockery of himself. (It’s a spectator sport for me because I’d go insane if I tried to take it seriously.)

Good politicians don’t answer the question they were asked; they answer the question they wish they were asked. Really great politicians answer the question the reporter should have asked, but the reporter missed the point. And the very best politicians do so because their cause is too important to be hijacked by a reporter’s agenda or confusion.

That’s why Jesus is my favorite politician. He was focused on the Father’s mission, and he would not be drawn into the quagmire of frantic earthly priorities. Everyone wanted to pin Jesus down:

• “The law of Moses commanded us to stone such a woman. Now what do you say?”
• “Is it right to pay the imperial tax to Caesar or not? Should we pay or shouldn’t we?”
• “Who sinned: this man, or his parents?
• (Insert you own favorite here)

The Lord’s answers are legend. They are examples of “the word of wisdom” in operation. We marvel at his insight and depth. We cheer when the tables are turned and the accusers become the accused.

Yet his words are more than political entertainment, more than the smart guy embarrassing the bad guys. His words are grace and truth, not only to the oppressed, but to the oppressors as well. His words are life to anyone with ears to hear. Jesus re-frames the issue and places Kingdom lenses into the new frames. Then, finally, both near-sighted and far can see what is really at stake. Jesus, the master politician, is neither right nor left, nor for that matter neither front nor back. He is from above.

Even today, Jesus is still answering the question you should have asked. In our grief over the loss of a loved-one we ask “why,” but we are not satisfied when he directs us to comfort others. We think he is changing the subject. The parents of a prodigal son asks, “where did we go wrong?” but the Lord chooses to redirect their attention to what should happen next. We miss his invitation to imitate the prodigal’s father. In our foolishness or pride we demand explanations to the injustice we see, when all the while the Lord knows that even his perfect answer will not heal the hurt or settle our hearts. We are too much like the priests or Pharisees or the masses, which wanted to make Jesus an earthly king. We stamp our feet and want “the truth.”

He answers the question we should have asked because he wants to transform us into his image, and he will not be distracted from his mission to love us into completeness.

Power: we want it. 

Everyone from Tony Stark to Francis Underwood wants it. They want it bad. Doc Brown’s 1.21 Gigawatts aren’t enough—somewhere in eternity Captain Kirk is still barking, “More power, Scotty.” From the power to persuade, to the power to entice, to the power of the people: we think power will save the world.

The only problem with power is we always seem to need just a little bit more. God has power. Maybe we can get it from him. Power to know the future, power to heal, wonder-working power that will prove us right and the world wrong—so much power we begin to use it to win the lottery or be the coolest guy at the party. If there’s an omnipotent god, then all the better—I want his power. But there’s always a catch. Just ask Bruce Almighty: it turns out the only container fit for the unlimited power of God is a vessel beset with weakness.

Why didn’t I see this sooner? The Apostle prayed that the dear people of Colossae would have power, but it was power to endure, the power to be patient, the power to joyfully give thanks. In other words: a power that changes nothing but ourselves.

Centuries before, the Proverbs revealed God’s priorities by suggesting true power is found in a man who rules his spirit, instead of one who conquers a city. Nor is this high-minded preacher-talk. Ask the man who is powerless against alcohol or rage. Ask the woman who is powerless against her fear or her thirst for love. Ask the politician powerless against his sexual appetites. Oh, for the power to contain our passions. In the final act, Richard the Third is willing to trade all his power for a getaway car.

The greatest power in the universe—from beyond the universe, really—came to town and submitted to the puny power of men who traded in swords and gold and crowns and titles. The powerful creator God absorbed the spear thrust into his side. The power of God overcame 30 pieces of silver meant to betray the Kingdom. God’s power wore a crown of thorns and ruled the world from an empty tomb. The seat of his power is beyond the reach of this world, and as close as the hearts of humble men and women. Who could have ever imagined a power perfected in weakness?

The only power we really need is power to grasp the love of Christ: its width, length, height, and depth. The kind of power to love until it kills you, and then love beyond that, until it raises you from the dead.

Have you seen the explosion of personality quizzes available on Facebook? Which Game of Thrones/Avenger/Muppet character are you? What state do you actually belong in? Which super-villain-American Horror witch are you? Who knows how many other quiz topics are available?

Carl Jung read our cultural urges quite well a half-century ago when he said, “The world will ask you who you are, and if you do not know, the world will tell you.”

There is another quiz we should be eager to take, but it’s not on Facebook. It’s in the other book:
“The farmer sows the word. Some people are like seed along the path, where the word is sown. As soon as they hear it, Satan comes and takes away the word that was sown in them. Others, like seed sown on rocky places, hear the word and at once receive it with joy. But since they have no root, they last only a short time. When trouble or persecution comes because of the word, they quickly fall away. Still others, like seed sown among thorns, hear the word; but the worries of this life, the deceitfulness of wealth and the desires for other things come in and choke the word, making it unfruitful. Others, like seed sown on good soil, hear the word, accept it, and produce a crop--thirty, sixty or even a hundred times what was sown."
Mark 4:14 – 20

Let me tell you about the first time I ever heard this parable. The night after I became a follower of Jesus a speaker used this parable to challenge new believers with an admonition continue as Christians. I just naturally assumed that I was the good soil. How could I be anything else? Sitting next to me that night was a friend from high school who had also just turned to Jesus. After the message she wept and wept and wept. Finally she composed herself enough to sob, “I just don’t want to let Jesus down. I’m afraid I might turn out to be one of those other types of soil.” I had assumed that I was the kind of person who was naturally good and would bear fruit, while she was moved to tears, crying and asking for the grace to live up her calling. At that moment I realized that after just one day she was already way beyond me in her walk with Jesus.

This quiz should be all over Facebook: Which kind of soil are you?

Jesus may have had more than one application for this parable. For example, do we think this parable refers only to the first time God calls to us? Perhaps Jesus was explaining the nature of every word God speaks to us. Each time God speaks all four possibilities are in play. Will his word penetrate my heart today? If he has a life-changing word for me today, will I let it take deep root? Will today’s cares choke it out? Or will the fresh word he speaks yield an amazing crop—today?

As a young Christian I thought Jesus was describing a fixed reality: too bad for those with hardened hearts, rocky soil, or lives full of weeds! Thank goodness I was the good soil! It never occurred to me that his words were a call for me to tend my own heart. I am never further away from the Kingdom than when I think his words are for someone else, but not for me.

Another question: why do most people assume an even distribution of the different kinds of soil? So many commentators discuss each soil condition as if 25% of the seed fell on each type. Can you imagine anyone sowing one quarter of their seed on a walking path? The greatest difficulties are the conditions below the surface. The rocky soil or the type filled with weeds may well have comprised most of the field. Perhaps the North American church struggles with power and fruitfulness because the vast majority of our hearts are shallow or filled with other concerns like worry or wealth. Do we know what lies beneath the surface of our lives? Do we dare ask him for his assessment?

Finally, this isn’t just any parable. Just before his explanation Jesus asked his disciples, "Don't you understand this parable? How then will you understand any parable?” (v 13) Jesus cautioned his students that this parable was critical to receiving the Kingdom of God (v 11). These very famous verses can still speak with authority today if we will take time to tend the garden.