Acts 23; Powerless for God

The Romans were famous for polytheism. Their soldiers carried the typical reputation of tough guys with little regard for local people. Yet, in this account the Romans actions were more noble than those of the Jewish leaders. The elders and chief priests engaged in a murder plot while the Roman commander and centurions worked to save Paul. If I were a simple bystander, I would never have been influenced to seek to know God via the priests. Actually, I might have asked the commander what guided his steps?

A couple of days ago I watched a popular athlete thank his Lord for an award he received. Often this happens in sports -- crossing the end zone, after a win or receiving a trophy is followed by some recognition of God. The same guy may also be in tabloids for his sexual escapades, may live with someone other than his wife, may make millions of dollars that he spends on himself but at the right moment he knows when to sound noble. At the same time that I watched the athlete on TV, I counseled a person who had been sexually and financially abused by a Christian. Actually not just a Christian but a Christian leader. It struck me that things don't really change a lot. If I were a bystander, I would not be inclined to ask the Christians about their God but I might be drawn to ask the athlete.

It is a dangerous thing to be a representative of God. We influence lives without thinking. Our mistakes often speak louder than the sum of our victories. Due to our errors, people seek God in all the wrong places. I don't think I want to be like the soldiers or athletes that seem to flip a switch of goodness at certain times. Nor do I want to be the priests and elders who totally lost sight of how to represent God. I guess the other option is to be Paul, the guy in chains for his convictions. Most of us don't want to be there but he seemed to be the only one in the story that really lived out his professed beliefs. He was probably the only one that could sleep well at night. He is certainly the only one whose name has endured in a positive light throughout the centuries . . . and the only one whose name is still connected with representing God.

So here's to the powerless people in the story of life; those who live their convictions and let the consequences fall where they will. May I be blessed to be counted in that number.

Joshua 3; Near God

God had a goal of demonstrating his presence with Joshua. He came down to accompany Joshua in order that everyone would see his favor on the man. Joshua responded by speaking in total faith that God would open the way for his people. Then he also added the line "But keep a safe distance of about 2000 cubits between you and the ark; do not go near it."

It sounds odd at first to celebrate the presence of God by staying 1000 yards away at all times. It is almost a contradiction that when God would be present, they were to create distance. We think that at all times our goal is to draw close to God. Perhaps our total lack of understanding of hierarchy betrays us here; Joshua was calling for respect. After all, this was the Creator of the world. His goal was to exalt the Lord and recognize his majesty. One does not throw his arms around the Queen of England or King of Thailand and ask "What's up?" Instead respect and adoration is shown by maintaining distance.

So God's action was to come near while the human reaction was to move back. God pursued intimacy; humans responded with reverence. God became imminent; humanity recognized transcendence.

Do I believe that just because God came near in Jesus that he somehow gave up the quality of being Godly? Do I believe that God should receive no different treatment than my buddy? Do I recognize in any way, the power and majesty of God by my actions?

Mark 15:16-32; Powerlessness

Priests, soldiers, thieves, commoners and a country traveler all encounter Jesus in this section. Those who come to Jesus in power inevitably get nothing out of the encounter; it is wasted. The crowd had the option of choosing its attitude; those recorded to have spoken up, did so from what seems to be a disdaining point of view. Even the thieves, not especially powerful at the moment, looked down upon Jesus. Then there are the two powerless people in the story.

Simon is grabbed by the soldiers and forced to walk beside the other powerless person. He happened to be coming home, maybe with his sons, and either happened to come to an intersection at the wrong time or was drawn in by the commotion to see what was happening. Surely he was forced to drop all personal items (tools, bags, food) to handle the cross; he may have been forced to abandon his sons Rufus and Alexander in the mob. Suddenly he went from an uninvolved spectator to center-stage in the drama. And of everyone mentioned in this section, only Simon was changed. Only he benefited. His family is mentioned in Romans 16; Catholic history records him as a Saint and his sons as missionaries.

I keep coming back to the question of why was he changed while so many others who were at the scene were not? All others encountered Jesus but were able to keep distance at the same time. The soldiers did not quit being soldiers to encounter Jesus. The thieves did not give up their identity nor the the crowd theirs. Yet Simon was jerked from the role of spectator and forced to walk with the Nazarene.

So how do I approach Jesus? Do I encounter him while retaining my separate identity? Is he someone that I bump into occasionally but hold at a distance? Or do I walk with him, even bearing the spillage of his burdens on my shoulders? It seems that we are not changed by a Jesus encounter unless we first surrender power.

Mark 10:35-45; Powerlessness

Somehow we are wired to seek power; Jesus has all power and seeks those who relinquish power. In the early paragraphs of this chapter little children are accepted while the actions of adults are spurned and rich men are stumped while poor people are embraced. Yet James and John still wanted power. Obviously the indignation of the other apostles was not due to their lack of seeking power but due to jealousy; otherwise, Jesus would not have stopped to teach them again.

Perhaps the greatest irony is that all this occurs as the king of the world is marching to surrender himself to his enemies. There is no scene that conveys a greater lack of power than that of the accused and abused Jesus who refuses to fight back. On his way to surrender, his disciples audaciously play power games.

Two thousand years later, we do not have it down either. Often church leaders are those who have success in business, who "get things done by running over others" or who have higher degrees. Success and education are good things but were never meant by Jesus to be the goal of life nor the reason for promoting someone to leadership in the kingdom. What would the church look like today with child-hearted, economically unsuccessful leaders whose first reaction was to surrender rather than fight back?

Mark 6:7-28; Bad Ending

I read this morning of Jesus calling the twelve and sending them out. I was struck by the immediacy of the sending. We tend to call people into our community and then beg them not to leave. When a person does rise up who wants to be a missionary (the Latin term for apostle or "one sent out"), we immediately ask how much do you need? That is code for "how little can you survive on so that we can spend most of our money on ourselves while spending as little as possible to keep you alive?"

As I read the next story, seeking a broader perspective or completion for the first story, I was struck by the abrupt ending. John's followers and surely John himself were praying for deliverance. Then, for no apparent reason, John's life was taken. It was taken by the powerful on a whim. To satisfy a grudge held by a God-less woman, John was killed. Even the one giving the ultimate order knew it was wrong.

Yesterday I watched as a few good young men were passed over and disrespected in a sporting event by their own coaches. Most of the fans were oblivious; the young men were deeply hurt. As I read the story of John, all I could think was that life often has bad endings. As much as I want to explain it away or give it a nice theological package, the bottom line is that for John, his followers and a few young men yesterday, life was totally unfair while for a few ruthless powerful people life was fun.

I hate stories like these. I hate bad endings. When I read them or experience them, they make me hope that heaven and hell are not just metaphors. They make me hope that the story is really not over and there is another ending yet to come.

Mark 6:1-6; Amazed

If you are God and create the entire world, what would it take to amaze you? After all, you know everything and have seen everything . . . literally. So when the text says that Jesus was amazed at their lack of faith, that's a pretty bold statement. God stood in awe of their depth of failure. What a sad statement regarding spiritual bankruptcy.

The story amazes me too but in different ways. In my imaginary reconstruction of the life of Jesus, I always see people fascinated with his miracles. That, after all, is what would amaze me. If someone walked into our university and began to heal people in wheelchairs, stop fever and mend broken bones simply by his touch, I would be pretty impressed to say the least. Yet the text lists that as the third thing that the people took notice of.

The first things that they were amazed by were his teachings and wisdom. It was the power of his word that drew them in. It was the difference between his words and the words of others that amazed them. Somehow his words were even more impressive than raising the dead and healing the sick.

So from this section on "amazement", I have to ask myself. First, is God amazed at me? Is he amazed at my lack of faith like he was this group of people? Does Jesus offend me in some way so that I pull back from him? Second, if his words were so amazing to them, why are they not so amazing to me? Have I become immune? Have I missed something? Have I forgotten how to listen? That would be sad . . . amazingly sad.