But I say to you truthfully, there are some of those standing here who will not taste death until they see the kingdom of God.
Luke 9.27
Jesus had just fed at least five thousand people. In typical Jewish-messianic fashion (as John describes it), He had provided the people with "bread for life." In the Synoptics, Jesus chose this point to quiz His disciples. They have been with Him. They have heard Him teach, and they have seen what He can do. After reciting the rumors, Jesus pointed the question. "Who do you say I am?" It seems to me that Jesus was asking His disciples if they understood who He was and what He was up to. Every theory the disciples had heard mar4 great claims about this Jesus. "He is John the Baptist reincarnated. He is Elijah. He is a new prophet (an interesting claim in light of Luke's view of prophets)." Jesus is somebody. He is an important religious figure. Everyone knew that, but Jesus wants to know if those closest to Him have really been listening. Have they seen the truth in the midst of all the travel, the teaching, the miracles? Jesus wanted to know, "Do they really know who I am? Why I'm here?"
And then, Peter blurted it out: "The Christ of God." The Messiah. The long-awaited One. The single man who would free the Jews from the yoke of their oppressors and usher in the Kingdom of God. The King like David and the Prophet like Moses, as Matthew describes Him. The anointed One of God. That's who Jesus was... who He is.
Yet, this man who stood before the disciples didn't even really know who His father was. He was born alone and dejected in a stable. He grew up in Galilee. What could He know about God's Kingdom? And to make matters worse, He claimed that this Messiah of God was required to suffer. God's anointed that the Jews had awaited since man fell had come to die?
And Jesus asked the same of His disciples. "Whoever wishes to save his life will lose it." What about breaking free from oppression? What about freedom from Rome? What about liberty and justice for all? How will dying bring God's kingdom? Isn't God's reign supposed to make the world right? Shouldn't it fix things? What good will dying do? How can sacrifice bring about the kingdom.
What puzzles me most about this story is Jesus' next statement. He demanded complete self-sacrifice, and then encouraged them that some would see the Kingdom before they died. Was Jesus saying that the Kingdom would come before some of them were driven to the point of laying down their lives?
About a week after these statements, Peter, John and James witness the Transfiguration. The next day, Jesus healed a boy "seized" by a demon. Jesus released this boy from his oppressor, and immediately reminded His disciples that He would suffer and die. Heaven came down, and people were set free. They were made well.
For Luke, Jesus is the coming of the Kingdom. His presence represented the restoration of God's rule. He brought with Him grace and mercy that accepted the poor and unacceptable. The coming of the Kingdom is future event, but it is also a present reality revealed in Jesus and in the Spirit. The coming of the Kingdom can't be predicted in history, but the truth of the Kingdom can be experienced in who Jesus is. In Him, we see the essence of the place where God lives. And in His sacrifice, it is slowly working itself into our world now. In our participation in that sacrifice, we are "conformed to the image of His Son" (Romans 8.29). The life of the One who lived the Kingdom in a world not entirely merged with the Kingdom becomes our life. We are capable of living His life and worshiping in His realm (Hebrews 9 and 10). We can live in the Kingdom in the midst of a broken and suffering world.
As the day approaches that I will walk across that stage, shake the hands of people who don't even know my name and smile at the tall man with the glasses to whom I owe most of my education, I wonder. When I walk off that stage, I will be "independent." That very day, I'll move to a new town. Hopefully, I'll find a new job. The summer may seem summer-like, but in August, I won't return to the classroom. I won't come back to Bolivar. I won't see the same people and complain about the same nasty food. I'll be immersed in a world almost entirely separate from this one. I wonder what I will do without wise men holding my hand. Will I learn anything? Will my education mean anything? Will I be able to use the skills I've spent four years developing? Or will I just flip burgers? Fear floods my mind. Doubts creep in like monsters from under the bed, and I truly do feel childish.
Then I remember the One who will always hold my hand. And He isn't just a wise man, He is the presence of God. Then I know it will all be ok. He is Immanuel, and He always will be.
A man who I hope to soon call a friend once said, "As you get older, the more you study eschatology the more you realize it is just as much about the summing up of your own life as it is about the end of all things." In the face of a thousand unanswerable questions, it's good to have that hope. If the end of my life is years away, or great sacrifice is required in the coming days, I pray that I would see the Kingdom of God before I go.
Sunday, March 11, 2007
Thursday, March 08, 2007
Beauty in Community
Therefore I, the prisoner of the Lord, implore you to walk in a manner worthy of the calling with which you have been called, with all humility and gentleness, with patience, showing tolerance for one another in love, being diligent to preserve the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace. There is one body and one Spirit, just as also you were called in one hope of your calling; one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father of all who is over all and through all and in all.
But to each one of us grace was given according to the measure of Christ's gift... for the equipping of the saints for the work of service, to the building up of the body of Christ.
Ephesians 4.1-7, 12.
The single most exciting part of following Christ in my own life is the freedom from isolation. Before Christ, I was essentially steeped in Pharisaic pride. I spent every minute of my life analyzing the moral codes of everyone around me. Christian faith was the deepest endeavor into the "ethical sphere." The truest Christian was the one who was not only most righteous, but known as most righteous by all those he encountered. In truth, my judgments stemmed from a) pride and continual comparison to those around me and b) a complete insecurity in my own weaknesses.
When Christ interfered, I was forced to re-evaluate my radical individualism. I could no longer spend my days and nights determining the worth of others. I was too humiliated to judge. I couldn't isolate myself inside myself. I was too weak to stand alone.
As Paul wrote to the Ephesians, he encourage pagan Gentiles to participate in a "Jewish" religion. He sought to free them from the oppression of the powers of darkness, as they were "seated with Christ in the heavenly places." They were no longer subject to the magical powers that tormented the Phrygian valley. In their new freedom from pagan powers, they were now members of a new body. They had formally been "excluded from the commonwealth of Israel," but now they were full-fledged members in a community that is "blessed with every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places in Christ."
Within this community, they have the "hope of His calling, the riches of the glory of His inheritance in the saints and the surpassing greatness of His power toward [those] who believe." In light of these things, Paul encourages them to "walk in a manner worthy of the calling." For Paul, this looks like unity in the community. It means people from different backgrounds can relate and live in love because of what Christ has done.
In my own life, I see myself determining my own brand of Christianity as the epitome of true faith. I sit through worship services and judge everyone's level of "maturity." Those who don't raise their hands don't care, those who do are faking it. I'm the only one in the room who really gets God. In reality, community is a blessing. It means I don't need all the answers. It means we can discuss, we can disagree and we can live through it. Love makes all of this possible. All that is required is that we are diligent to preserve that unity.
But to each one of us grace was given according to the measure of Christ's gift... for the equipping of the saints for the work of service, to the building up of the body of Christ.
Ephesians 4.1-7, 12.
The single most exciting part of following Christ in my own life is the freedom from isolation. Before Christ, I was essentially steeped in Pharisaic pride. I spent every minute of my life analyzing the moral codes of everyone around me. Christian faith was the deepest endeavor into the "ethical sphere." The truest Christian was the one who was not only most righteous, but known as most righteous by all those he encountered. In truth, my judgments stemmed from a) pride and continual comparison to those around me and b) a complete insecurity in my own weaknesses.
When Christ interfered, I was forced to re-evaluate my radical individualism. I could no longer spend my days and nights determining the worth of others. I was too humiliated to judge. I couldn't isolate myself inside myself. I was too weak to stand alone.
As Paul wrote to the Ephesians, he encourage pagan Gentiles to participate in a "Jewish" religion. He sought to free them from the oppression of the powers of darkness, as they were "seated with Christ in the heavenly places." They were no longer subject to the magical powers that tormented the Phrygian valley. In their new freedom from pagan powers, they were now members of a new body. They had formally been "excluded from the commonwealth of Israel," but now they were full-fledged members in a community that is "blessed with every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places in Christ."
Within this community, they have the "hope of His calling, the riches of the glory of His inheritance in the saints and the surpassing greatness of His power toward [those] who believe." In light of these things, Paul encourages them to "walk in a manner worthy of the calling." For Paul, this looks like unity in the community. It means people from different backgrounds can relate and live in love because of what Christ has done.
In my own life, I see myself determining my own brand of Christianity as the epitome of true faith. I sit through worship services and judge everyone's level of "maturity." Those who don't raise their hands don't care, those who do are faking it. I'm the only one in the room who really gets God. In reality, community is a blessing. It means I don't need all the answers. It means we can discuss, we can disagree and we can live through it. Love makes all of this possible. All that is required is that we are diligent to preserve that unity.
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