students of jesus

“We know what God looks like; God looks like Jesus. We know what God sounds like; God sounds like Jesus. We know how God acts; God acts like Jesus.” Amen to all three. Huzzah for pointing our attention to Jesus, “the exact representation of God’s nature.” I’m all in with that.

It’s a popular idea these days. And who could disagree?

But from a corner of the parlour comes a polite “hem-hem” that sounds suspiciously like Delores Umbridge—except I take no umbrage with the sentences written. It’s just all the other sentences that come afterward that have me worried.

The danger of a Jesus-shaped spirituality is us: all of our preconceptions and values, deeply held and secretly directing our steps even as we announce we are “following Jesus.” When first encounter Jesus it is through the lenses have used all our lives: the lenses of our generation, our culture, our politics, our venerations, and our personal needs and hopes. We love the idea that Jesus looks like God even as we are unaware that we’ve spent our lives worshipping ourselves. One example: what good is it to say “God is love” if we know nothing of the love of God?

And so the danger: we make him our very own personal savior. Quietly, unwittingly, we absorb Jesus into ourselves. We co-opt Jesus when we see in him only those qualities and actions that already support our causes and ideas. We co-opt Jesus when we force fit him into the popular notions of our worldview, whatever it is: Jesus the patriot; Jesus the environmentalist; Jesus the socialist; Jesus the capitalist; Jesus the . . . well, the list is almost endless.

When we earnestly say we want a Jesus-shaped spirituality we’ve only taken the first step. Discovering what Jesus-shaped spirituality looks like requires every step we take after that. Jesus is not a subject to be studied and mastered. He’s not the stuff of our ideology or even our theology. He’s a living Being: infinite and wise, profound and joyful. We follow him because he is on the move, going somewhere new and mystifying.

Following Jesus is a perilous journey because he asks us to leave our home, our occupation, and our life-skills behind. Our understanding is part of the problem, which is one reason the Proverbs suggest we should not lean on it. He asks us to become little children set into a new Kingdom. He asks us to learn a new way to live. It’s his kingdom, not mine; nor should I require that your Jesus-quest fit mine.

And so, unlike Delores Umbridge, the Grand Inquisitor of Hogwarts, I have no desire to post regulations on the wall defining Jesus-shaped spirituality once and for all. I can suggest that the scriptures—all of them—reveal something of Jesus. I can point to his Last Supper words where he commends us to his great Helper, the Holy Spirit, who leads us into all truth. What I cannot do is insist that my faith expression has captured all of who Jesus is. The infinite, forever God-Man is at work forming me, and it would be wise of me to allow him to form you, too.

 

Why not receive Students of Jesus in your inbox? Subscribe to our email newsletter and never miss a post.

In my college days I delivered pizza to the hungry people of Arlington Heights, Illinois. It was a high calling: affluent over-fed suburbanites needed greasy junk food in 30 minutes or less, and I was just the guy to get it to them. Near the back door of the pizza shop was a huge map of the town. Whenever the delivery order displayed an unfamiliar address I went straight to the map. It was authoritative. It was clear. And I can’t remember a single time when the map was wrong. Today I imagine Google Maps, with its robo-voice, directing pizza-drivers to their destination. But the job is still the same: get there.

Perhaps my pizza experience shaped my faith, because for many years I was all about the destinations. For a while I thought Christianity was mainly about going to heaven—a destination. Later, I thought it was all about putting Christians into political office—also a destination. As a typical North American I became very comfortable with a results-oriented view of the faith. What’s the goal? How do we get there? Let’s get moving.

It turns out I was only half right. The destination is important: you’ve got to pick the right one; but the journey will shape you in ways you never imagined. Here’s a flaw in results-only thinking: the destination is a decision, and decisions are comfortable things because after I’ve made up my mind, there’s no reason to think any more.

Just one example: when Jesus told the story of the Good Samaritan he was answering the question, “Who is my neighbor?” The sub-text of his story includes two religiously minded people who were focused more on the destination than the journey. What if God had instructed those two passers-by to go to Jericho because God knew what they would find along the way?

We use the phrase “following Jesus,” but many of us would like it better if he just texted us the address and we used Google Maps to find our own way. Too often, we use the Bible like a Google Maps: our heads down, looking at the screen, ignoring the living guide, Who says, “Look up! Do you see what’s happening on the side of the road?”

There’s nothing wrong with destinations or maps. Both are important. We must choose wisely and consult the right tools. But the map is not the territory, nor is the destination always the point of the journey. We like maps and destinations because they are comfortable and clear.

It’s easy to reduce our walk with Jesus to a destination, and it’s easier still to trust a map instead of a Living Guide. Yet, Jesus said he would not leave us alone. He promised a Comforter—or if you will, a “Spirit guide.” Day-by-day we are tempted to treat the Bible as a map even though the Lord said the Spirit will lead us into all truth (see John 16, especially verse 13). Look closely: we should hear the truth, because a Person speaks it. I trust the Bible, and receive it as a precious gift from God. But I trust the Holy Spirit even more, because he wrote the book; He is alive to the nuance of every step in every journey.

A map will get you where you need to go. A guide will show you things you’ve never seen before.

In our fractured society demographic studies are the sacred scriptures of politics, education, and marketing. The categories of Latino, African-American, Anglo, and Asian are too large: demographics break down ethnicities into subcategories of gender, age, sexual orientation, and coffee-habits. In the church, George Barna has made a career out of demographic distinctions. We live in sociological ghettoes, and those who sell goods, services, and philosophies can find all the figures they need to target their message.

Our Creator has a different demographic approach: oneness—the kind of oneness that spans the gaps and unifies people of every nation, tribe, and tongue. Consider, for example, how Jesus launched his church:

Now there were staying in Jerusalem God-fearing Jews from every nation under heaven . . . Parthians, Medes and Elamites; residents of Mesopotamia, Judea and Cappadocia, Pontus and Asia, Phrygia and Pamphylia, Egypt and the parts of Libya near Cyrene; visitors from Rome (both Jews and converts to Judaism); Cretans and Arabs . . .

In that moment when God chose to launch his ends-of-the-earth initiative, he chose to bring people together. Jesus indiscriminately poured out a one-size-fits-all solution on everyone: the true demographic of the church is the Holy Spirit.

The earliest Christians learned again and again the work of the Spirit. The Comforter broke boundaries and distinctions worldwide. The Spirit of Christ favored one people, “neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female . . . all one in Christ Jesus.”

The Lord’s method was part of his message. One faith, one baptism, one hope, one Lord. The book of Revelation, that crazy picture of the moment when time itself is rolled up like a cloak, paints a picture of the Forever Days: there before me was a great multitude that no one could count, from every nation, tribe, people and language, standing before the throne and before the Lamb. They were wearing white robes and were holding palm branches in their hands. 

God is a sweet community within Himself: Father, Son, and Spirit. Even in the midst of the Trinity’s sharp distinctions and clear identity there radiates a oneness. Here is a lesson worth a week’s meditation: what keeps us from imitating his example?

Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ. (Romans 5:1)

I’m not interested in Romans today, I’m interested in peace with God. Monday’s are for meditation--to suggest a course for the coming week, something to consider for more than a passing moment. And lately I’ve been thinking about peace.

On the night before he was betrayed, Jesus said, “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you.” When the resurrected Jesus appeared to his disciples he began with the simple greeting, “Peace be with you.” In the Apostle Paul’s definition of the Kingdom of God peace is one third of the equation. Peace is a part of every greeting Paul gave. Peace is evidence of the Spirit’s maturing work in our lives. Peace is promised to guard our hearts and minds. Peace is the birthright of every child of God. And yet . . .

How many believers live in peace? How many of us experience the peace that passes understanding? What portion of the body of Christ is known for peace? Or to ask the question in the negative, why is peace not the sign of a follower of Jesus?

It’s an important question. Some suggest a legal answer--the peace we have with God is positional: since we are reconciled with God through the sacrifice of Jesus, peace is part of our new standing with God. I suppose legal answers serve some purpose--but I see too many Christians who are decidedly not at peace. They are confused or even angry with God, worried about their lives, unable to live at peace in their families and in constant conflict with the affairs of life. These believers are my friends, and I can see they are not at peace.

I’d like to suggest a question capable of changing our lives: “Jesus, you’ve promised peace but my life is not at rest. How can I walk in what you have promised?”

Perhaps some of you know an answer. Many of us are waiting to discover your secret.

How do we approach the Bible? Are we looking for information about God, or an encounter with God? When we say the book is inspired, do we mean that the Holy Spirit breathed upon those who wrote it, or do we mean that the Holy Spirit wants to breathe on those who read it now? I believe the correct answer is “both.”

Our experience with God’s word should not be simply an intellectual exercise. It should be a conversation. The Holy Spirit hasn’t gotten any older or further away during the passage of 21 centuries. He longs to engage us when we come to the scripture. He invites us to use our time in the Bible as an opportunity to love God with all our heart and with all our soul and with all our mind and with all our strength.

I’d like to suggest a few questions about our time with God as we come to the scripture:

• When is the last time I experienced an emotional response to the scripture--sadness? anger? awe? joy? fear? doubt? confidence? grief? regret? remorse? hope? laughter? love? relief? gratitude?
• When is the last time I experienced a physical sensation during my Bible reading? Has my body ever responded to God’s word?
• When is the last time I was moved to action because of the words on the page before me? Have I ever been moved to call someone, go to someone, or help someone?
• Have I ever come to the scripture asking the Holy Spirit what he hopes to accomplish while I read?

I believe the North American church has come to value intellect over spirit and soul. The result for many believers is a dry and lifeless experience of his great gift--the very words of God spoken, captured, preserved and delivered to us today.

Sweet Holy Spirit, I invite you sit beside me, breathe on me, and guide me through your collected wisdom I hold in my hand. Come, Holy Spirit.