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Grace, Humanity of Jesus
Grace, Humanity of Jesus Entries from November 1, 2011 - November 30, 2011
Monday's Meditation: How Jesus Used Grace
Monday, November 28, 2011 at 12:04AM 
“If you want to know what the full potential of your life can be, look at Jesus. All that he did during his earthly ministry was done through reliance upon the Holy Spirit. That means we can imitate his example.“ ~ Ray Hollenbach
Yep, I just quoted myself. There’s no better way to underscore one of the central passions of the Students of Jesus blog: if we fail to embrace the humanity of Jesus (along with his God-nature) we are sure to to fall short of our calling to become conformed to his image. For example, have you ever considered the possibility that Jesus himself depended upon the Father’s grace day-to-day?
Our modern, limited view of grace is directly attributable to the separation we see between Jesus and us. We have been schooled regarding his divinity but the lessons stop with respect to his humanity. Without putting it into so many words, we see Jesus cruising through the challenges of everyday life with the ease of walking on water.
Perhaps we are able to recognize the human side of Jesus in the garden of Gethsemane, where he cries out in anguish because of the task ahead. We understand the fear of suffering and the desire to avoid it. We understand why Jesus would say, “Father take this cup from me . . . “ but we have no idea how the grace of God helped Jesus to develop into the kind of person who could also say, “ . . . yet not my will, but yours be done.”
If our view of God's grace is limited to receiving forgiveness, Jesus cannot be our model for how to receive grace, live in grace, and depend upon grace. Who taught Peter, John, Paul and countless other believers how to live the kind of grace-filled life we see in Acts and the history of the church? How does grace apply to everyday life in a manner that we are conscious of the supply and know how to use it?
If the grace of God is shortened to mean only forgiveness, we are forever trapped in a cycle of sin and grace and more sin again. Where do we see that cycle in the life of Jesus? We cannot see it because it is not there. What is there for us to see is grace in operation when Jesus was tempted in the wilderness, when he wept at the tomb of Lazarus, even when he angrily drove the merchants from the Temple. He is our model for the operation of grace in times of testing, in sorrow, and in every human emotion we face. He said "No" to ungodliness and worldly passions, and lived a self-controlled, upright and godly life in this present age. He can be the author of such grace toward us, because what he has received he freely shares.
The Parable of the Glum Bums
Saturday, November 26, 2011 at 12:03AM 
My son, Joe Hollenbach, is an immensely talented writer with a voice all his own. The wellspring of his rich imagination runs deep; you can find a store of refreshing stories at his blog, which has lain dormant for a season--but perhaps you can urge him onward in this pursuit, because the world will be poorer without hearing his stories.
***
I’ll admit it: I’m as self-entitled a person as the world has known.
Only moments after speaking eternal promises to one another and to the Lord, I turned to my new bride as we walked back up the aisle and said, “Just remember, what’s yours is now mine and what’s mine is still mine.” Four years later and she knows I was only half-kidding.
When my Dad asked for a quick-hitter on the parable of my choosing, I hemmed and hawed to myself before admitting the Parable of the Workers in the Vineyard was right up my alley.
The synopsis goes like this: a landowner goes out early in the morning looking for farm hands to toil in his vineyard. He grabs a group of guys, (presumably strapping dudes) establishes their pay and sets them to their task. As the day progresses, the vintner continues to hire more workers: some at noon, more in the afternoon, and even a few right before sundown, at which point he cuts all the hired hands a check of equal pay. This nettled those who toiled since sunrise and they caved to their frustration with fits of grumbles. The landlord tells them to quit griping as they’ve been rewarded with the payment they agreed upon, further explaining it’s no concern of theirs if he decides to be generous with his riches. Read it for yourself, though. Matthew 20:1-16. Don’t worry. I’ll wait for you.
All caught up? Excellent. Let’s dive in.
The obvious (and worn) interpretation of this passage is easily identifiable. It speaks of the goodness of Jesus and his unyielding pursuit to bless all of us. Regardless of when we come to the Lord, he loves us with the same tenacity as the next. It’s an awfully good thing, isn’t it?
But there are so many layers to this parable that just get white-washed. Yes, the concept that Jesus-loves-you-and-wants-you-to-have-nice-things is killer, but what lays beneath the surface level? The part of this passage that most resonates with me is the attitude of the early morning employee. The interaction of those grumblers with the landlord speaks volumes to me, personally. It serves as an admonition to those of us that might let cynicism and self-importance cloud the larger scheme.
In life, I almost always find myself mired in the morning laborer’s frame of mind: Disgruntled, envious, and consumed with concept that the world has it out for me. Like I tell everyone, “I’m an optimist, but I do wear a rain coat.”
If you’re like me, a hopeless Eeyore, I’d like to share what speaks to me from this parable. Trust me; there are plenty of reasons for us to be glad:
- To live in God’s economy is to operate in generosity and prosperity – and the Lord’s currency never depreciates. It’s always a good time to buy stock in His love and provision. It’s a limitless wealth. What he gives, and the amount we receive, comes from the generosity of his heart toward us. This is a concept I still cannot fully comprehend. I doubt I ever will. Whenever someone experiences a season of success or reward, I hate to admit it but I have to remind myself to be glad for them. The Kingdom of Heaven is nothing like capitalism, thankfully. The prosperity of others does not come at my expense, yours, or anyone’s.
- The master works hard, too - In the narrative, we see the landowner is constantly in motion, morning until dusk, finding new hands – and all of his work is to our benefit! With each addition, the burden lightens and the distribution of the work becomes less daunting for those already in the fold. We are uplifted as the numbers strengthen. This is part of the abundance of Jesus.
- Hard work delivers a satisfying harvest – In truth, I’ve not yet found anything more exhausting than being committed to a community of fellow believers. Conversely, nothing else compares to the fruits that the Church delivers. Life is meant to be spent in communion: messy, achy, back-breaking communion. The same people that offend you and wear you down will undoubtedly inspire you and lift you up. Our identity comes into a sharper focus when in healthy communion with God and his children. There’s an inexplicable, twisted symmetry to it all. Delight in it. It’s family-living and it bears a fruit sweeter than any imagining.
- His land is beautiful – it’s a quaint observation, but have you ever spent time in a Vineyard? It’s breathtaking. If you haven’t, no worries. Rent A Walk in the Clouds and you’ll understand the beauty. It takes a spirit hell-bent on negativity and a mind eaten alive with self-absorption to not appreciate the glory of God’s creation. To be completely practical, when I feel taken advantage of it puts me off all mirth; I have trouble doing much more than pout. I live in the central Kentucky, surrounded by palatial farm manors, thoroughbreds of dappled chestnut and misty grey, and autumns so deep with reds and oranges they leave you breathless. And yet all these arresting visuals and natural wonders fall aside when I fixate on how the world is out to slight me. When we focus on self-pity, we’re robbing ourselves of the vision of His Kingdom.
November is a great month to re-order your perspective. Some people prefer the start of a new year for drastic endeavors, but Thanksgiving demands reflection upon the good and decent endowments in our lives. I hope you’ll all take this holiday weekend as an opportunity to commit to gratitude and gladness.
Six Dubious Evangelical Lessons of Thanksgiving
Thursday, November 24, 2011 at 12:10AM  |
| Actual Pilgrim photo from 1621 |
1). Thanksgiving is the only Christian holiday that does not require going to church. Unless you’re a pilgrim. Modern Christians are surprised to discover that Pilgrim services routinely lasted four hours or more, which made watching the Detroit Lions game extremely difficult (this is why the Cowboys are America’s Team--they always play the late game). Actually, Evangelicals used to gather at their house of worship the fourth Thursday each November but when the megachurch movement sprang up in the 1970’s, Bill Hybels, Robert Schuller and Jerry Falwell met secretly and signed the Mayflower Compact, which guaranteed that all church services should last no more than 59 minutes. Now, entire Evangelical services have been whittled down to the same length as the original Thanksgiving prayer.
2). Be careful what traditions you start, because they may stick around 390 years. Wives and Moms know what I’m talking about: in 1621 Myles Standish, William Bradford, and Abraham Lincoln told their wives they had invited a few friends over to help them invent football. Twenty minutes later Chief Massasoit and 90 of his friends showed up expecting a meal. Ever since that day, women cook for a week in advance because they are thankful it took another 299 years before the NFL was founded.
3). Pilgrim fashion was even more strict than their morality. You couldn’t wear white after Labor Day, and after Thanksgiving you had to wear black until spring. The “Black Winter-wear Rule,” as it came to be known, was dropped soon after relationships with Native Americans deteriorated, because black clothing against a snowy background made too good of a target. Also, Pilgrims had the gift of prophecy and foresaw the Goth movement. However, because white was forbidden, everyone compromised on grey. 390 years later, it turns out Native American fashion wins out: Christian hipsters sport piercings, tattoos and faux-hawks (and you thought feathers in your hair was just a fad).
4). Squanto’s biggest contribution to the Plymouth Colony was teaching the British how to carve a turkey. History books will try to tell you that Squanto educated the settlers about fishing, farming, and fashion, but the real story is too ugly for family conversation. Let’s just say it involves British gentlemen who left their butlers back in England: they mutilated the poor turkey so badly that everyone went hungry their first winter in the New World.
5). Pilgrim spirituality is the reason we have on-line giving today. It’s no secret the Plymouth Colony was big into tithing: nine potatoes for you, and one for the Almighty. People who wanted to cheat on the tithe were easy to spot because they weighed more than everyone else. There was no hiding your prosperity--or your posterior. It took a few centuries, but we’ve finally discovered the most private way to give: on-line.
6). The debate continues over whether the Pilgrims were True Evangelicals. I’ll settle this: Pilgrims couldn’t have been Evangelicals because their sermons did not contain three points, each beginning with the same letter. Pilgrim preachers started with “A” and used the whole alphabet--for their introduction. Also, their worship sets lacked the punch we’ve come to expect--but not for lack of effort. The Pilgrims introduced theater-style lighting in their services but the 500 colored candles burned down their first three sanctuaries. Another Pilgrim came up with the idea using fog to set a worshipful mood, but they had to wait for bad weather to roll in from the bay. It resulted in no worship at all from May through September and set the Evangelical movement back 250 years until D.L. Moody adapted his method of selling shoes into what we now call “Evangelism.”
Personally, I’ll always love Thanksgiving because I’m still deeply connected to its spiritual roots. Did I mention that this year my birthday also falls on Thanksgiving? You can send your gifts FedEx Express--they deliver on Holidays. I’ll be even more thankful this year.
Monday's Meditation: What I Saw at Church
Monday, November 21, 2011 at 12:10AM 
Yesterday at church I saw heaven breaking into earth here and now.
I saw signs and wonders: children in sparkling tennis shoes that flashed multicolored lights as they danced in worship. I saw a four year-old offensive lineman soaking in the Spirit of Christ, unaware of how strong his body will grow or how he will use it to glorify God. I saw the Woodstock generation worshipping next to generations unborn. I saw the unlovely, enraptured by the bridegroom and made beautiful by the sight of of him. They became beautiful in my sight as well. I saw a rage-oholic find peace as he stood in the back of the room. He drank it in--the only peace he knows each week--in the Father's presence.
I heard voices normally used in the everyday business of life blended together in the unison of praise. Voices which sang without words, making new paths of melody, expressing what their hearts knew but their minds did not. I heard songs so new that no one had ever heard them but the singer herself, followed by the songs of saints dead a hundred years or more. I heard the sound of heaven surge through tongues, lungs, and throats of flesh and blood, like fountains made pure by the very water they released.
I tasted bad coffee. It was somehow made better because it was shared in common. I savored the sacred elements of donuts and fruit, muffins and juice, sanctified by people receiving the sacrament of family. I tasted and saw that the Lord is good.
I caught the fragrance of the unwashed who had been embraced by the Rose of Sharon. I discovered that his aroma overpowers theirs: the aroma of life to those who are being saved, and the stench of death nowhere in the place.
I heard the Holy Spirit whisper secrets to the pastor, who announced them to the church. I watched as the people miraculously flashed the inspired words around the world even before the sermon had ended. I saw sojourners who had no home find a place to call home, if only for an hour.
I saw in the church the fulness of him who fills every thing in every way. I discovered the pillar and support of the truth as they put the wisdom of God on display--not for themselves, but for the powers and principalities in heavenly places--unaware they were being watched.
Yesterday at church I touched all these things and more. What did you see?
The Parable of Missing the Point
Saturday, November 19, 2011 at 12:07AM 
I'm thrilled to launch a new feature at Students of Jesus. Each Saturday you'll meet a guest-posting genius holding forth on one of the 46 parables found in the gospels. Despite popular opinion, parables were not simple stories told to make things easy to understand. Jesus used parables to shake our world view, and perhaps occasionally to destroy the wisdom of the wise. Come wrestle with us.
Sarah Cunningham is a disarming person. She describes herself as a "skinny white girl," but behind the self-deprecation are observant eyes and a sharp mind. She's the internationally-known author of two books and one child, who apparently rules the household. You can find her work at Amazon or at her website, SarahCunningham.org.
When Ray asked a group of us to talk about parables, my mind immediately raced to the familiar parable of the talents found in Matthew 25.
This came to mind first for less than noble reasons. Not because I’m particularly inspired by the message, but because I’m particularly un-inspired by the way Sunday School tends to deliver the message up.
You know the story, as it starts in verse 14.
The master has to go to a far off place, so he leaves his servants with “talents”—talents being not “skills”, as we read the word, but an ancient unit of money.
The master then returns and—good news—two of the servants have invested wisely and doubled their money. But the third guy buried his in an apparent fit of paranoia, and didn’t do squat with what he was given.
The traditional telling I’ve heard umpteen times, and maybe you’ve heard too, is don’t bury your talent. Let it shine. If it’s told in Sunday School, it wraps neatly into a segué to This Little Light of Mine.
But this telling short-changes the actual passage, in my only-sometimes-humble opinion, and is a good example of how we sometimes accidentally flatten the Scriptures by pulling verses out of context and wielding them like individual fairy tales.
Panning out to the bigger picture gives us an expanded reading that is way more compelling and impressive than the two-bit morality tale.
Consider the following clues:
- Matthew is writing this book to a Jewish audience to try to convince them that Jesus is the Messiah they’ve been waiting for. That’s why, in Chapter 1, he starts the genealogy with Abraham and builds forward through King David to Jesus. Hint, hint, Jews. Follow the family tree.
- Right before this parable, organized in the same chapter, is the parable of the ten virgins. Just like the servants were awaiting their master, this story too is about people awaiting a man, the Bridegroom. And just like in the talent story, some of the people are prepared for the Bridegroom to come (they have oil), but some are caught unprepared
- Right after this parable is another story about people who were or were not prepared to recognize what was important. The king praises some for caring for the disadvantaged, saying that when they did this, it was as if they were caring for the king himself. Once again, though, there are some who looked at the disadvantaged and never took the opportunity to care for the king.
- The parable of the talents ends with the Master separating the servants. Two are praised and told to enter into the joy of the Lord. The other one is sent out to the place where there is weeping and gnashing of teeth. This seems like a subtle clue that something more than talent, something eternally big, is at stake in the story.
When we put all this together, I begin to doubt that the parable is about using your talent for God at all.
I think Matthew—who wanted to convince the Jews Jesus was the long awaited Messiah—told three stories in a row about people who missed the King for an entirely different reason.
The Jews were missing Jesus right in front of them.
And that’s why in verse 29, he says that some of the people who “have” (the carriers of the faith, “chosen” Israel?) will lose.
Even though I think the “don’t bury your talent” in the ground version is cute, and metaphorically a wise principle, it frustrates me because it ends with the wrong question.
I don’t think we’re supposed to read Matthew 25 and ask ourselves if we’re using our talent for God.
Or at least I don’t think that’s the main thing.
I think we should ask ourselves if we—the carriers of the faith, the modern day church—and our religious practices are so empty that we wouldn’t see Jesus if he was starving right in front of us.
