students of jesus

At the close of William Sampson’s wonderful book, Meeting Jesus, he asks, “What was the color of Jesus’ eyes?”

The literal-minded person will immediately answer, “The Bible doesn’t tell us. We cannot know. At best we can only presume that because Jesus was born to Jewish parents . . . blah, blah, blah.”

Sampson’s answer is more compelling: “No color is mentioned. But they were not colorless, like Little Orphan Annie. They were human eyes. And that they were human and could be looked into like any human eyes can make a big difference in getting to know Jesus.”

It’s like the stuff of a romantic comedy when the unappreciated girl traps the smooth-operating guy with a question as they talk on the phone: “Oh, you think I’m great? Really? What color are my eyes?” Long silence: the smooth operator is busted. He doesn’t really know her, he simply likes the idea of wooing and winning yet another conquest.

Can you imagine looking into the face of Jesus? Have you brought your imagination into the service of following him? In my experience too many Christians are taught to avoid subjective experiences with God.

Sometimes unbelievers grasp the power of imagination and Spirit more freely than cautious believers. In his play Joan of Arc, George Bernard Shaw--an infamous critic of Christianity--depicts a scene where Joan is questioned by church authorities for the heresy of hearing God’s voice. Her critics tell her the voice comes from her imagination, and Joan replies simply, “Of course. That is how the messages of God come to us.”

Joan would still be considered a heretic today, burned at the modern stake of the blogosphere. True, the Bible is our anchor. In the happy phrase of the King James translation it is our “more sure word of prophecy,” yet that implies there are other means of hearing his voice. I believe we were meant to engage the scripture in all the particulars--even the ones not mentioned, right down to the color of his eyes. It does not matter that we get the answer “right.” It matters that we enter into the real world of the scripture. As William Sampson says, “We do not know the particulars of his life, but we know it was filled with particulars . . . Jesus lived out his life as we do--from one concrete setting to another, one choice to another.”

Imagine Jesus: position yourself to live from one concrete choice to another with a chance of making the choices Jesus would have you make. Why not spend some time alone with him and gaze upon his face?

Jesus began with a master-disciple relationship between him and the twelve. After three years it had morphed into one between friends, and after the cross and his ascension, the relationship become the blood of family: “the one who makes men holy and those who are made holy are of the same family. So Jesus is not ashamed to call them brothers and sisters.” (Hebrews 2: 11) The call to come and follow is actually a call to join the family business. Not as a hired hand, but as a child of God.  

He makes all things new: a new earth, a new heaven, and a new family, drawn from every people group on the earth. This work won’t be completed until the the end of this age, but right now, in this present age, Jesus planted evidence of what the age to come will look like. What will this new new age look like? The answer lies in another question: What kind of people has Jesus adopted?

According to the Apostle Peter, we are that people right now! Listen to the message: “But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people belonging to God, that you may declare the praises of him who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light. Once you were not a people, but now you are the people of God; once you had not received mercy, but now you have received mercy.” (I Peter 2: 9 - 10)

The early church believed that Jesus had opened the way for heaven to “invade” Earth. This invasion meant that everyone who followed Jesus could draw on the same resources that Jesus used. Our lives should reflect the promise of Heaven. The expectation of the early church was that because Jesus had opened the way, Heaven would regularly break into the everyday business of Earth. Consider this long prayer, which came from the early church in Jerusalem:

When they heard this, they raised their voices together in prayer to God. "Sovereign Lord," they said, "you made the heaven and the earth and the sea, and everything in them. You spoke by the Holy Spirit through the mouth of your servant, our father David:
   " 'Why do the nations rage
       and the peoples plot in vain?
   The kings of the earth take their stand
       and the rulers gather together
       against the Lord
       and against his Anointed One.
Indeed Herod and Pontius Pilate met together with the Gentiles and the people of Israel in this city to conspire against your holy servant Jesus, whom you anointed. They did what your power and will had decided beforehand should happen. Now, Lord, consider their threats and enable your servants to speak your word with great boldness. Stretch out your hand to heal and perform miraculous signs and wonders through the name of your holy servant Jesus."
After they prayed, the place where they were meeting was shaken. And they were all filled with the Holy Spirit and spoke the word of God boldly. (Acts 4: 24 – 31)

Notice the relationship between the people of God and the work of God? His people promised to speak boldly, and asked God to heal and perform miraculous signs and wonders through them. This was the pattern set by Jesus in the gospels, and it was the pattern applied to the church in Acts. Jesus was the firstborn of Heaven; the church was the firstfruit of his ministry. The church was both the harvest and the example of the whole harvest would look like. It was true then; it’s true now. The complete harvest comes at the end of the age. Meanwhile the church exhibits the promise of that harvest.

It’s a glorious picture of the church, but sadly, a picture largely obscured by many churches today. Perhaps we can dare to hope that the church will someday rise to this calling, but our personal, immediate challenge is to see that the church is comprised of individual family members. The we of family begins when Christ formed in me.

In my Clark Kent life I do some work as a consultant, sharing with small groups the meanings of leadership and teamwork. I discover more about leadership and teamwork each time I work with a group; I also discover more about myself, and more about the wisdom of Jesus. 

Jesus is God’s wisdom lived out in human life. He is the Master of Life—not just eternal life—but life here and now. Whether I am working with businesses, governments or non-profits, I discover again and again how the words of Jesus find application in very practical settings. I also repeatedly discover the powerful human tendency to twist his wisdom to our own purposes.

For example, I recently shared with a group of leaders a powerful tip from Colin Powell regarding how we see the world. Powell’s example is a reworking of the Lord’s wisdom. “Remove the beam from your own eye, then you can see to remove the speck from your brother’s eye.” (Matthew 7: 2-5) Powell used this metaphor: when things go wrong we can examine the results by using a piece of glass. One type of glass is a window. We look through the glass at others and examine their actions. Another type of glass is a mirror, which shows us ourselves. The wise leader reaches first for the mirror—“What have I done in this situation?” asks the leader. “How did I contribute to the problem?” The unwise leader reaches for the window-glass and looks at others. “What did they do? How could they have failed so badly?”

The mirror/window example is useful and true, and not particularly novel in leadership circles. Like the earlier saying of Jesus, it requires humility of heart and courage to face the truth. It benefits all who embrace its wisdom. But we are a frail lot, us sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve. We can take the wisdom of God and twist it to our own devices. Here’s what happened next with this group of leaders.

After sharing the Colin Powell version of this principle with a leadership team, I gave the team an exercise: use 15 minutes and take a recent problem at your workplace. Apply the mirror, and report back what you learned. This team was a group of old-school leaders, the kind who believe leadership is about command and control, about telling others what to do. When they returned from their exercise, the spokesman suggested this use of the mirror: “We think it would be effective to use the mirror by turning it toward our employees. We would hold the mirror up to them and say, ‘Look at what you’ve done! It’s not very professional, is it?’” These leaders, in effect, recommended using the mirror as a tool of discipline instead of self-reflection. They came to a conclusion 180-degrees from the purpose of the exercise. Their conclusion reinforced their way of doing things and asserted their right as leaders to be the judge of others! (And yes, at that moment I quickly grabbed my own mirror and asked myself, “How could I have screwed up this concept so completely?!?”)

The lesson for Students of Jesus is a warning: it is not enough to know his principles. We must have his heart as well. We—all of us—have a powerful tendency to think his words are meant for someone else, and we are the chosen vessels to deliver his words. We are bent toward self-preservation and defensiveness, even when we hear words of life. If Jesus teaches us to first remove the beam from our own eye, we rush off to deliver his message to others before we have tried the remedy ourselves.

The world-changing power of Christ starts small and works outward, like ripples on a pond. Most of us are surprised, however, to discover the center of the circle looks like us.

If I told you what I was really thinking most of the time, you’d discover the monster within me: selfish, judgmental, and proud. Dare I draw back the curtain, just a little? I’ll pick something entertaining and safe—honest.

When I have my morning Facebook devotions, every day I receive an invitation to play Farmer’s-Candy-Time-Garden-Crush-City-Saga, or some other odious on-line silliness. No. No, I don’t want to play your silly game. I want to stalk people from the safe distance of the Internet. Chat feature? Off.

One woman was particularly bothersome. She issued invitations day after day, calling out all manner of games and interactions. I was just about to “unfriend” her when it hit me: she’s disabled, and almost completely homebound. She constantly sends our requests for others to play with her.

I still thought about unfriending her. But that still, small voice said, “You should do something.”

“I have my standards,” I answered. “I won’t play those stupid games.”

“OK, do something else. She’s alone.”

“Like what?”

Silence, followed by more silence. The Holy Spirit speaks to me pretty clearly sometimes, but that doesn’t mean He makes things clear. He left me to think it through.

I decided to receive every invitation as a call to prayer: every time she issued an invitation, I would stop browsing Facebook and lift her up for a few moments. I began to pray for God’s presence in her home; for her children to remember and comfort her; for her heart to turn fully Godward.

[I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking my prayers lead me (finally) to action. But no. Prayer is action, and I prayed faithfully. But something did happen, and it wasn’t pretty.]

Her Facebook invitations kept coming, and I prayed. And they kept coming. And I prayed. And they kept coming—one after another, day upon day, sometimes more than once a day. I began to resent the interruptions. (I told you my thoughts are not pretty.) These interruptions came at no regular intervals. There was no prayer schedule I could far into. Each one was unique, and each one was a bother.

I came to envy the Muslim practice of prayer five times a day: at least they are on a schedule. At least I could order my time. I remembered the tolling of noon church bells from my hometown, calling my consciousness back to God. Perhaps I could give up my promise to the Spirit and simply use my iPhone as a modern minaret. Then I’d be back in control. Working, praying, reading, and surfing Face-Insta-Twitter. I’d be Master and Commander of my busy, busy world again.

The true lesson is about me. I face interruptions every day—we all do. What if those interruptions are a call to prayer (or some other action)? The call to prayer is more than church bells or the wailing of a muezzin. So are a thousand other daily cues. Can I recognize which interruptions are divine? Will I yield to the Voice that speaks, but leaves me to navigate my own response?