Category: Luke (Page 18 of 25)

Heart of a Disciple: Humility

We’re considering the qualities that were found in Jesus’ twelve disciples that distinguished them from the rest of the people who saw and heard the Lord, who witnessed and experienced his teachings and miracles, his truth and grace. What made them different?

The most obvious characteristic in the Twelve, but lacking in all the others is humility. Most of the people who came in contact with Jesus had their own agendas. They were trying to use him for their own purposes or they just wanted him to approve or rubber-stamp some belief or practice they were already doing. Plenty of people are coming to Jesus during his ministry. But their minds are closed before they get to him.

The kind of student on which Jesus insists has an open heart and a genuine willingness to listen. Our Lord calls the kind of student who allows his teachings to reshape that student’s priorities and transform his worldview.

Sometimes the apostles didn’t like what Jesus said, but they were always humble about it. They never walked away. Even when they were baffled by his teaching — it seems like on every other page of the Gospels — they still understood that the teaching was special and that Jesus was a special kind of teacher. That’s why, in John 6, when everybody is leaving Jesus, when Jesus’ teachings were difficult to understand and follow, they remained humble in their response. Even when they didn’t get it either, the Twelve responded to Jesus with, “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life. We believe and know that you are the holy one of God.”

They were simple. They were honest. And they were humble. Sometimes they seem stupid. Sometimes weak. Sometimes ignorant. They certainly come across in the Gospels as the duh-ciples. But they were always invested. Always committed. Of all the peopel Jesus taught, the apostles are the ones who are still there after the tricky parables, asking what they mean. Wanting to know. Wanting to learn.

Lots of people asked Jesus questions to trick him or trap him. But the apostles asked him questions because they truly wanted to know the answers and follow the teachings. Sometimes we come to Jesus’ teachings in Scripture looking for him to validate or affirm what we think we already know. If Jesus doesn’t uphold our view of divorce and remarriage, if the Lord doesn’t support what we believe or practice regarding worship or relationships or forgiveness, we’ll keep looking for other teachings. And if we can’t find them, we ignore Jesus altogether. We hang on with a white-knuckle death grip to his words that uphold what we believe, but relegate to the trash heap his words that challenge us or stretch us beyond what we’ve always known. That is the opposite of the humble heart Jesus requires in a disciple.

Of course, they learned that humility and honesty from Jesus himself. Jesus said, “Learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart.” He came, in his own words, not to be served, but to serve, and to give his very life for others. If we’re really going to learn from him, if we’re really going to allow his Lordship over us to shape us into his holy image, we have to exhibit a similar humility that bows before Jesus with an open heart and a confessing spirit.

Peace,

Allan

Heart of a Disciple: A Question

(This is the first of a short, four-part series.)

Peter, Andrew, James, and John leave their boats and their nets and they follow Jesus. He calls, they jump. Matthew left his tax booth, left everything, Luke says, to follow Jesus. Philip and Nathaniel. All twelve of them drop everything, they radically reverse their lives, and begin to follow Jesus.

And these twelve apostles are true talmidim. Disciples. Real disciples. They don’t just want to know what their teacher knew. They aren’t in it to please their parents or fulfill the expectations of their society. No, this is for real. They have a passionate desire to be exactly like their rabbi. They are driven to do and think and speak and act exactly like their teacher. That’s the Twelve. In all their immaturity and stubborness, selfishness and pride, self-deceit and sin, they want nothing more than to be exactly like Jesus. What he says, they do; where he goes, they go.

It didn’t work that way with everybody.

The Son of God tells the young man in Matthew 19, “Come, follow me.” But the man refused. Instead, he went away sad. In Matthew 8, “Follow me!” and another refusal. Luke 9: “Follow me. Follow me. Follow me.” Three times. Three different people. Three more refusals. Several of Jesus’ disciples bail in John 6.

Jesus preached to the multitudes. He fed the large crowds. He taught in the synagogues. He was a well-known and well-respected rabbi. He was called “rabbi” by Pharisees and Saducees, Romans and Phoenecians. Why didn’t everybody become a disciple? Why did some keep asking for signs even after witnessing miraculous healings and spectacular feedings? If Philip and Nathaniel can take the Law and the Prophets, put two and two together, and recognize Jesus for who he is, why couldn’t the educated Scribes and dedicated teachers? All these potential students, all these potential disciples. What is it about the Twelve that made them different? These twelve young men, whose names we know, the fathers of our faith, the foundation stones of God’s Church, the ones our children sing about — what is it about them that sets them apart from all the rest?

What is it about you? What makes you such a faithful disciple of Jesus? What sets you apart from those who aren’t following our rabbi? What about the most faithful disciples of Jesus you know? What makes them different from everybody else? Whatever it is, it seems you’d want to cultivate that, right?

Peace,

Allan

 

The Crown

Scripture tells us Jesus set his face toward Jerusalem. The Gospel of Mark describes this last journey for our Lord as Jesus “being on the way.” He was heading to Jerusalem with purpose, with great determination. Jesus was on a mission and nothing was going to stop him.

When he arrives near the holy city, he is greeted by cheering crowds. They praise him. They submit to him, throwing their cloaks in the path before him. They applaud him because of his miracles and his powerful teachings. They want to crown him their king. They’ve been praying for this King for generations, for centuries. They had heard the prophesies. They had told the stories. Luke says “the people thought that the Kingdom of God was going to appear at once.” They want to crown Jesus their king.

The crowds are cheering. But Jesus is crying. Isn’t that interesting? What a crazy contrast. What an unexpected bit of information.  The people are cheering and praising and exalting Jesus. But he’s crying.

Jesus willingly rode into Jerusalem to be crowned. With a crown of thorns. A crown of suffering and pain, anguish and shame. This crown of thorns is a strong statement about the kingship of Jesus. This crown represents a whole new way of experiencing the world. This crown represents an entirely different way of seeing success. It shows us a new way to view time and history and reality. This crown is powerful.

The King who wore this crown loved his enemies. His righteousness was greater than that of the Pharisees. He was rich, but he became poor in order to save the world. And as he’s dying on the cross — suffering, suffocating, gasping for his last breath — he uses his final ounces of energy to intercede for his killers, “Father, forgive them; they don’t know what they’re doing.”

This crown of thorns is not a detour on the way to the Kingdom of God. It’s not an inconvenient hurdle, not even a necessary obstacle that has to be overcome to get to the Kingdom of God. This crown IS the Kingdom of God! This crown and everything it represents IS the Kingdom of God come on earth just as it is in heaven! It is an eternal statement about the kingship of Jesus and it communicates to us very clearly what God’s Kingdom is all about.

Some people accept this statement. Some people don’t fully understand the statement. And some people flat-out reject it. But, make no mistake: it IS the statement. It is the revelation. Jesus’ victory over sin and death was won in suffering and shame. He willingly, intentionally, determinedly wore the crown. And he is our Almighty King!

Peace,

Allan

The Anti-Triumphal Entry

March Madness is upon us. I saw a report yesterday that claimed nearly 40-percent of America’s workplaces have some kind of a bracket contest going among employees. I wonder how many churches are involved? I’ve got brackets entered at home against Whitney, here at church with the other ministers and staff, and in an ESPN group of our Central church young families. For the record I’ve got Kentucky, Ohio State, Missouri, and Kansas in the Final Four with the Jayhawks beating Mizzou for the title. Matthew and Greg made fun of my picks this morning. It’s on!

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Luke’s portrait of Jesus’ final entry into Jerusalem is striking in its contrasts. The crowd is cheering, but Jesus is crying. The people are shouting and praising; they’re exalting Jesus. But Jesus is crying.

The people believe Jesus has come to purge the nation of their Roman oppressors. They want Jesus to revive the ancient glories of Israel’s heyday under King David. That’s what the people want. And they’re not bashful about it.

“Blessed is the King who comes in the name of the Lord! Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is the coming kingdom of our father David! Blessed is the King of Israel!”

Jesus is the only one in this scene who really knows what’s happening. What Jesus is doing as he rides into the holy city is revealing God. What Jesus is doing shows us the heart of God and the plan of God. It shows us what God is all about. This deliberate and determined ride into Jerusalem is an unforgettable statement about the nature of the King and the Kingdom of God. Some people today rejoice in this statement; some people still don’t understand this statement; and some people flat out reject it.

See, Jesus is riding into Jerusalem to die. He’s coming to suffer and die.

This is not like the typical entry into a capitol city of a triumphant king. This is really like the anti-triumphal entry. Jesus does not enter Jerusalem on a white charger or a black horse of war. He rides a lowly beast of burden. He doesn’t carry a bunch of war trophies and a train of captives behind him. In fact, by the end of the week, he’ll be the one led as a captive outside the city gates and killed. Jesus doesn’t share everyone’s hopes and dreams of earthly glory and power. He doesn’t come to establish a kingdom to rival Rome. He comes to suffer. And sacrifice. He comes to die. He comes as a king who will be crowned not with priceless jewels, but with painful thorns. He doesn’t come to sit on a throne, but to hang from a tree. He’s doing the exact opposite of what the people expect out of a king.

Jesus is not a man of chariots and swords; he is the One who brings peace to all nations. His gift is a gift of life, not force or power. The people are expecting a mighty and conquering king; but in Jesus they get a sacrificial servant. And when he doesn’t deliver on their political and economic desires, they kill him.

The people shout, “Hosanna! Save Us!” And when Jesus says, “I will save you, just not in the ways you expect,” they begin to shout, “Crucify him!” When Jesus says, “I am coming to save you in ways that will far surpass in eternal glory anything you or your ancestors ever experienced or even dreamed about with the kingdom of David,” they kill him.

Jesus is not a way for us to get what we want politically or economically or socially or nationally. He didn’t come so we could create a better version of the kingdom of the world. Jesus came so we could be a part of an entirely new and eternal Kingdom of God.

Peace,

Allan

Packed With Promise

When Jesus looks you in the eye and says, “Follow me,” it’s packed with promise. When the Savior of the World taps you on the shoulder and says, “Do what I do in the ways I do it; follow me,” you must understand that wherever he leads, it’ll be for your own good. His call comes with promises. And his promises always come true.

In Luke chapter five — this is one of my all-time favorite stories about Peter — Jesus calls this first disciple to “put out into deep water and let down the nets for a catch.” And Peter got a huge catch, more fish than his boat could handle. While Peter was up to his hips in flopping fish, while he was scared and disoriented and maybe laughing hysterically, Jesus says to Peter, “Don’t be afraid; from now on you will catch men.” And three thousand people are baptized the first time Peter attempts to preach. Jesus tells Peter he’s got a job for him, and Peter winds up as the cornerstone of God’s eternal Church.

You don’t have to be confident. You don’t even have to be competent to answer the call of Christ. You just have to follow. You just have to be willing to go. The rest is up to Jesus. In fact, it’s all on Jesus.

Jesus is the one who takes the initiative. He calls Peter. He’s the one who changes Peter from the miserable failure of not catching any fish all night to the wild success of all those fresh fish busting Peter’s nets. Jesus is the one who calms Peter in the middle of the chaos and promises him even greater success in matters much more important. Jesus understands the mission, not Peter. Jesus is the one who controls the outcome of the mission, not Peter.

Jesus’ call on your life is packed with his promises.

“Lose your life and I’ll save it. Throw everything away and I’ll give you all things. Be last and I’ll make you first. Serve and suffer in my name and for my cause and I’ll give you eternal glory.”

Don’t you want to go all-out for a Savior like that?

Peace,

Allan

The Leader as a Little Child

While preparing for our upcoming elders/ministers retreat, I’ve read and re-read several parts of Leading the Congregation by Norman Shawchuck and Roger Heuser. I’m particularly interested in chapter two: The Interior Attitudes of the Leader. I’d like to take the next few days exploring their ideas and reflecting out loud here on what it means for me, personally, and for our churches.

“Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the Kingdom of Heaven. Whoever becomes humble like this child is the greatest in the Kingdom of Heaven.” ~Matthew 18:3-4

Shawchuck and Heuser claim the first and foremost quality of religious or church leadership is childlikeness. The disciples were sincere when they asked their Lord who would be the greatest when the Kingdom was finally realized. Their teaching and learning had, for generations, conditioned them to expect a hierarchy within this new Kingdom structure. The hearts of these disciples were filled with ambition; they wanted a Kingdom that would bring them privilege and honor.

In actuality, Jesus came to usher in an eternal Kingdom in which there is no hierarchy and no superiority. No chain of command, no flow chart, no levels of authority or power. And I’ve got to think this not only surprised the apostles, it probably disappointed them, too. They asked Jesus all the time about their particular ranking in the system. “Who’s the greatest? Who’s going to be in charge?” They couldn’t stop talking about it even during the meal that last night in the upper room. It was there that Jesus proclaimed “You are not to be like that! Instead, the greatest among you should be like the youngest, and the one who rules like the one who serves… I am among you as one who serves” (Luke 22:25-28)

They asked the same question over and over again. And every single time Jesus gave them the same answer: The greatest will be as the youngest, and the leader as a servant.

Shawchuck and Heuser say that childlikeness as the model for church leadership should be received as good news, not bad news. It simply means leading the congregation with an attitude similar to a child’s: “…one who opens the self to this reality as a gift, and one who lives and ministers as the least in service to all. This is childlike spirituality and authentic leadership within the Kingdom.”

Just like the aspiring disciples, I sometimes take myself way too seriously. Honestly, I have a real tendency to be devastated by the slightest criticism. I worry if people aren’t taking me as seriously as I think they should. Are they listening to me? Are they taking my suggestions and advice? Are they paying attention to me? Do they like me? Am I important here? That’s insecurity, I guess. It’s definitely not humility or Christlikeness. It exposes a preoccupation with myself and my own status over the needs of the ones to whom God calls me to minister. It’s silly and shallow. Rather immature.

Just the opposite of the childlikeness Christ envisions for his church leaders.

Children take their play seriously, but not themselves. They are transparent without shame. God wants us all to be like youngsters.

Michael Quoist, in his book Prayers for Life, speaks for God on this subject:

I don’t like old people unless they are still children.
I want only children in my Kingdom.
Youngsters — twisted, humped, wrinkled, white-bearded — all kinds of youngsters, but youngsters.
I like children because my likeness has not yet been dulled in them.
They have not botched my likeness.
I like them because they are still growing, they are still improving.
They are on the road, they are on their way.
But with grown-ups there is nothing to expect anymore.
They will no longer grow, no longer improve.
They have come to a full stop.
It is disastrous — grown-ups think they have arrived.

Jesus calls us as church leaders to childlikeness so we will learn to let God carry us as we lead; to let God teach us what we need to learn. All our skills and talents and abilities, all our plans and visions and dreams, none of it really matters. The plan is in our Father’s hand. And we (I) need to run to him like a little child; seeking his love and approval; living to please him not others; giving to serve others, never myself.

Peace,

Allan

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