students of jesus

I am in my usual place. I close the door. My room feels secure.
 
I start to read. My mind hears the sound of my own voice. I am the narrator: “Be careful not to do your acts of righteousness before men, to be seen by them . . .” Of course these are not my words, but I hear them in my own voice. I’ve been here before. The words continue, “. . . so that your giving may be in secret. Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret will reward you.”
 
Because I’ve come to this place often. These words are as familiar as my morning coffee, yet each morning I can savor the smell and taste anew. I make a note in the margin of the book. “He sees in secret. He rewards.” I consider the fact he also sees the murder and adultery in my heart. Am I comfortable that he sees me in secret? There is danger and reward in what he sees. Other people see only the surface. They reward, too, with smiles and words of praise.

“Go into your room, close the door and pray to your Father, who is unseen. Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you.” The voice in my head sounds less like me--it begins to blend with another voice: one sure and steady. He’s telling me about my Father. He knows my Father very well, far better than me because I was separated from my Father at birth. But now I’m grown. I am trying to connect again. Your Father, he says, sees and rewards. Other people may see and reward, but it’s out in the open, where we can pretend to be anything we want. We can even pretend we have forgiven. Others might reward, but they do not see in secret.

I finish his words about my righteousness: he tells me to comb my hair, wash my face and fool my neighbors, “and your Father, who sees what is done in secret will reward you.” The voice in my head is now completely his, offering assurance and revelation:

He sees me, even in the secret place, and he longs to reward. I consider for a moment: could I trust anyone to see all of me, even in secret? Can I trust him?  He says yes, and this is what I will take with me when I open the door and begin my day: “If I trust him to see me in secret, I will not need to be seen by men.”

Michael Norton's blog, The Suburban Vagabond, incorporates one of my very favorite words. I've liked "vagabond" ever since hearing the lyric in The Lion King (sing it quietly to your self). He is a Jesus-follower and avid questioner. He lives near Indianapolis, Indiana with his wife, Amanda and his daughter, Lux. Michael is/has been a blogger, musician, pastor, poet, barista, construction worker, children’s minister, and ministry leader. Among his many hobbies are songwriting, hiking, coffee, travelling, listening to music (all kinds), reading, and people. His favorite authors include C.S. Lewis, N.T. Wright, Erwin McManus, Jack London, and Ted Dekker.

An American businessman, an oil executive, was flying into Afghanistan for an important meeting. On the way, his plane experienced catastrophic engine failure, and was forced to crash land. The passengers and crew – with the exception of the businessman – were all killed. He managed to stagger out of the burning wreckage, and lay bleeding, battered, and bruised under the shelter of a boulder, crying out for help from God and man.”

Soon a humanitarian worker in the employ of an international aid organization passed by and saw the wreckage. He stopped to ponder the plight of the businessman. “I wish I could help this man!” He said. “But these hills are full of insurgent fighters, and even now they are probably waiting to ambush anyone who tries to help.” He went on his way.

Next, an American missionary passed by. He was on his way to a local village to baptize several new converts. He stood aghast, surveying the horrific scene. “I should help this poor, injured foreigner,” he thought while getting out of his car. Suddenly he stopped “I wonder what the villagers would think if I delayed their meeting? Would I lose all the time I’ve invested to build their trust if I put this foreigner above their needs?” He hesitated. “Besides, Who knows if this is some kind of trap. There may be insurgents hiding in the hills, and what would my wife and children do if I were assassinated or captured by terrorists?” With a hurried glance to the heavens, he arrived at a decision. “I will pray that God will send this man some assistance, and if he is still here on my way back I will take it as a sign from God that I am to help him.” Like the other, he hurried on his way.

Forsaken and alone, the businessman lay under the boulder, feeling his life fade away. He no longer had the strength to call out…

At that moment, a local villager, Ibrahim, came by. Like the others, he stood in shock at the carnage, But only for a moment. He ran up to the wreckage, praying to Allah that someone was still alive. Finding the businessman’s apparently lifeless body under the boulder, Ibrahim rejoiced to hear his heart still beating. Unwinding his turban, he stopped the bleeding as best he could, then he carried the businessman to his car as tenderly as a mother would carry her child. Ibrahim took the businessman to his own home where he was treated as an honored guest. He called the local doctor to examine him, while having his wife prepare the best foods for him. When he was sufficiently recovered, Ibrahim took the businessman to his cousin Farzad  the smuggler,with instructions to conduct him safely to the American embassy in Kabul. Ibrahim payed for all of this out of his own pocket, without a thought of the possibility of repayment.

So who was a true neighbor to the American businessman? Go and do the same.

It’s amazing how many Christians think the central message of the Old Testament is: We are a bunch of losers, all of us. Adam and Eve screwed up, and we’ve been screwing up ever since. I’ve been hearing that message since I first turned to Jesus: no one can live up to the laws of God.

Then along came Moses, who totally wrecked my received theology. In his farewell message, after forty years of leading the stiff-necked, rebellious people of Israel desert circles for almost forty years, Moses rallies his countrymen together and says:

“For this commandment that I command you today is not too hard for you, neither is it far off. It is not in heaven, that you should say, ‘Who will ascend to heaven for us and bring it to us, that we may hear it and do it?’ Neither is it beyond the sea, that you should say, ‘Who will go over the sea for us and bring it to us, that we may hear it and do it?’ But the word is very near you. It is in your mouth and in your heart, so that you can do it.” Deuteronomy 30: 11-14

Poor Moses. It really was time for him to pack it in: he actually believed this group of former Egyptian slaves was capable of living up to the Law of God.

If anyone had proof that people could not live up to God’s standard, it was Moses. As he spoke these words he stood before the second generation of those who had been set free from slavery--the first generation had turned their backs on Yahweh just weeks after the most spectacular fireworks display in military history. The first generation made a golden calf and worshipped it simply because Moses was a few days late for an appointment.

Forty years later Moses assembled this second generation and said, “You can do this! It’s within your reach! Reach into your heart and speak confident words--you can follow the laws you’ve been given and establish an outpost of heaven on earth.” We know how that turned out: the second generation were just as big of losers as the first. And so third generation, and so the next, and on and on.

But here is my question: didn’t Moses speak the word of God? Isn’t Deuteronomy 30 part of the Bible--that trustworthy, reliable communication from the Creator of the Universe? You see, it wasn’t just Moses who thought God’s people could hear and do God’s will: God himself was speaking through Moses to the people of Israel--and to us--"you can do this!"

In fact, God came near to his creation and repeated the message again, this time with a Perfect Messenger:

“Do not think that I have come to abolish the Law or the Prophets; I have not come to abolish them but to fulfill them. For truly, I say to you, until heaven and earth pass away, not an iota, not a dot, will pass from the Law until all is accomplished. Therefore whoever relaxes one of the least of these commandments and teaches others to do the same will be called least in the kingdom of heaven, but whoever does them and teaches them will be called great in the kingdom of heaven. For I tell you, unless your righteousness exceeds that of the scribes and Pharisees, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. ~ Jesus, speaking in Matthew 5: 17-20

It seems to me Jesus repeated the message of Deuteronomy. Where Moses failed to provide a perfect example of walking out God’s instructions, Jesus himself provided a perfect example. He encouraged us to do the same, and (amazingly) to teach others to do the same.

How do the words of Jesus and Moses fit into our understanding of walking with God? In my experience most Christians simply assume that sin is the normal, daily operation of Christian life, and forgiveness is God’s antidote. But what if forgiveness is not the antidote but only the emergency triage? What if there was a cure, a real cure that could go deeper and turn us into the kind of creatures for whom sin is abnormal?

What if, somehow, we could become some kind of new creation capable of bearing fruit that tasted like love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control? What if? What if obedience to God’s good instruction was possible?

But no: I’m only dreaming.

Jesus died to forgive our sins, right? It would be too much to imagine that he also rose again to empower us walk in a new kind of life. That would mean his followers would have to become some kind of radical new creation.

Becoming a follower of Jesus requires at least three transformations: we must be born from above; we must acquire his character; and we must imitate his works. Most believers North America have a grasp on the first, a hope of the second, and almost no concept of the third.

Jesus had a high view of his followers. He believed in them more than they believed in themselves. He gave them extravagant assignments during their three years together on earth. And as Jesus prepared to leave, he charged his disciples with the impossible:

“I tell you the truth, anyone who has faith in me will do what I have been doing. He will do even greater things than these, because I am going to the Father. And I will do whatever you ask in my name, so that the Son may bring glory to the Father. You may ask me for anything in my name, and I will do it.” (John 14: 12-14)

The first disciples were up to the task because they found themselves transformed by the new birth. Heaven’s DNA had altered their very being. They were in fact a new creation. As a result they demonstrated the character of Christ to a degree not possible by their own good intentions or human effort. The history of the early church is filled with descriptions of ordinary people who declared the message of the Kingdom of God (as Jesus had done) and demonstrated the coming of that Kingdom with powerful actions (as Jesus had done).

In the centuries which followed the people of God have sometimes changed the task into something attainable by human effort. But the Kingdom of God does not come through human effort, it comes from the in-breaking of heaven upon our spirits, our hearts, our very actions. Every generation should wrestle with the challenge Jesus left us. The first disciples were up to the task. In our day we have trouble understanding the task all.

Our meditation for the week should be the goal of our life in Christ: Lord, transform me not only once, but three times.

What happens when the artists become the Bible expositors? Apparently some people are offended, some are challenged, still others yawn and go their solitary way. More and more I find myself with the artists, because they help me see with new eyes, hear with new ears, and taste the sweetness of God’s good heart.

For example, look what happens to the Parable of the Prodigal Son in the hands of Franco Zeffirelli, director of the still-fabulous Jesus of Nazareth. In this six-minute clip Jesus tells the familiar parable from Luke 15, but this film version helps us understand more than one meaning of the well-known story. Here’s all you need to know: (1) the guy in the black hair and beard is Peter, who is very upset that Jesus has selected Matthew as a disciple; (2) Matthew, the guy whose head is covered, has invited Jesus to a party filled with drunkards and unsavory types--they are Matthew’s friends; and (3) the guy dressed in white with the sparkling British accent? Well, that’s Jesus:

Now, here is the parable within the parable: Zeffirelli, who turns 89 next month, is a gay Roman Catholic. Just over three years ago he said, "I am a Christian down to the depths of my spirit." He has received criticism from both religious organizations and gay rights organizations for holding this seemingly impossible identity.

I am content to let him describe himself in any manner he wants, because I am profoundly grateful to him for filming this scene.