The truth is, lots of people are like Karen. They want to know which way the wind is blowing before they make a commitment. Politicians are renowned for possessing this useful character trait. You remember John Kerry, don’t you? Fair or not, George Bush was able to successfully paint him as a flip-flopper on the issues. Of course, John didn’t help himself when he said he voted for the war before he voted against it.
And that’s the problem of course with taking stands that are not rooted in principle. If your goal is to find out what everybody else is thinking before you tell them what you are thinking, you get caught when the wind changes direction.
Our friend Nicodemus here in chapter three has developed quite a reputation as a wind-tester over the years. Many is the sermon I’ve heard deriding him as a sneaky little Jew. The preachers would paint an unseemly portrait of Nicodemus as they had him slinking around in the middle of the night to find out if Jesus was for real or not. To hear the preachers tell it, it wasn’t hard to imagine him darting from one dark spot to the next as he navigated his way to where Jesus was staying. Maybe he lightly tapped on the door as he cast one furtive glance after another up and down the street to make sure he had made his journey undetected.
All of this makes for good commentary, but we don’t know a whole lot about poor, maligned Nicodemus except that he was a Pharisee and that he came to Jesus after sundown. We also know that he was kind to Jesus in his death, so he must have been a pretty good fellow after all.
There are a couple of other things about Nicodemus I think I like.
For one thing, in spite of being in danger of suffering severe political and social consequences at the hands of his fellow Pharisees, he still made the inquiry. Secondly, he was honest enough in his search for God to recognize that Jesus could not have performed the miracles he performed were God not with him. Other Pharisees would witness the same miracles and still accuse Jesus of working for the Evil One.
But this story isn’t about Nicodemus as much as it is about how Jesus responded to this inquiring man. We’ll spend a little time on that tomorrow.
Saturday, July 5, 2008
John 3: Jesus the Great Teacher (pt 1)
Maybe you’ve had an experience like the one I had in the fourth grade. Actually, I have had several of these experiences through the years, but I particularly remember this one.
I was at that age - if you know what I mean. Well, maybe you don’t know what I mean. What I mean is, I was at that age when all boys begin to notice that there is something profoundly different about the opposite sex – GIRLS. That’s not to say that I was prepared to take the plunge and actually have a girlfriend – shoot, I wasn’t even prepared to admit to any living soul that I might be ready to admit that I possessed even the remotest interest in girls. But just between you and me, I was beginning to notice. And I liked what I saw. Well, forget the just-between-you-and-me thing – I’m an old man – who cares if you tell now?
Well, there I was on the playground hanging around with all the other boys who were also beginning to like girls but wouldn’t admit it when all of a sudden, Debbie Underwood came running from across the sandy lot where the girls congregated in their segregated coven. It took a minute to realize it, but she was headed straight for me.
And I’ll never forget her words – Can we talk? Oh, what profundity.
So Debbie and I sauntered off to the side together. We stopped. We looked one another in the eyes but only briefly because back in the day, looking girls in the eye caused my intestinal track to writhe in spastic rhythm.
Karen Thurston wants to know if you like her.
Well, sure I did. I had in fact been worshiping from across the playground the ground that Karen Thurston walked on for months. She was everything to me. I could not have imagined life without her. But I had not dared to offer my hand to her. In fact, I had taken great pains not to show any interest in her at all. Even though I loved her with all my heart, I would not make myself vulnerable to that one human experience that we all loathe with every fiber of our being – rejection!
I know now what I did not know then – Karen suffered the same phobia as I. She feared that I would reject her, and it was safer to experience it second-hand, as it were, coming from me to Debbie to her than had she heard it from my mouth. So she sent a surrogate.
Just so you’ll have closure on this story, I looked Debbie in the eye (briefly again), laughed, and said those ill-fated words I shall never forget - Is she nuts?
Thus, a romance that might have rivaled that of Romeo and Juliet never took root. The seed of love never germinated. The blossom of love… you get the point, don’t you?
The story John tells of Nicodemus in chapter three is where I am headed, of course. Just hang on! I think you’ll get the point. But more about that tomorrow.
I was at that age - if you know what I mean. Well, maybe you don’t know what I mean. What I mean is, I was at that age when all boys begin to notice that there is something profoundly different about the opposite sex – GIRLS. That’s not to say that I was prepared to take the plunge and actually have a girlfriend – shoot, I wasn’t even prepared to admit to any living soul that I might be ready to admit that I possessed even the remotest interest in girls. But just between you and me, I was beginning to notice. And I liked what I saw. Well, forget the just-between-you-and-me thing – I’m an old man – who cares if you tell now?
Well, there I was on the playground hanging around with all the other boys who were also beginning to like girls but wouldn’t admit it when all of a sudden, Debbie Underwood came running from across the sandy lot where the girls congregated in their segregated coven. It took a minute to realize it, but she was headed straight for me.
And I’ll never forget her words – Can we talk? Oh, what profundity.
So Debbie and I sauntered off to the side together. We stopped. We looked one another in the eyes but only briefly because back in the day, looking girls in the eye caused my intestinal track to writhe in spastic rhythm.
Karen Thurston wants to know if you like her.
Well, sure I did. I had in fact been worshiping from across the playground the ground that Karen Thurston walked on for months. She was everything to me. I could not have imagined life without her. But I had not dared to offer my hand to her. In fact, I had taken great pains not to show any interest in her at all. Even though I loved her with all my heart, I would not make myself vulnerable to that one human experience that we all loathe with every fiber of our being – rejection!
I know now what I did not know then – Karen suffered the same phobia as I. She feared that I would reject her, and it was safer to experience it second-hand, as it were, coming from me to Debbie to her than had she heard it from my mouth. So she sent a surrogate.
Just so you’ll have closure on this story, I looked Debbie in the eye (briefly again), laughed, and said those ill-fated words I shall never forget - Is she nuts?
Thus, a romance that might have rivaled that of Romeo and Juliet never took root. The seed of love never germinated. The blossom of love… you get the point, don’t you?
The story John tells of Nicodemus in chapter three is where I am headed, of course. Just hang on! I think you’ll get the point. But more about that tomorrow.
Monday, June 30, 2008
John 2: Jesus - the Son of Man
So here’s the story as I see it. Jesus goes to a wedding party. The party goes on until late in the night. The guests drink all of the grape juice. Jesus makes some more out of water. The guests marvel at its quality.
That would be a nice story if it weren’t for one little Greek word (those pesky foreign languages). You see, the Greek word translated as “too much to drink” (drunk freely, KJV), actually means “to get drunk.” That’s right – get drunk. If you want to check me out on this, have at it. The transliteration of the word is methusko. Everywhere else in the New Testament, it means just what I said it means – get drunk.
Now back to the new and properly revised story: Jesus goes to a wedding party. The party goes on until late in the night. The guests get drunk. They run out of wine. Jesus makes some more out of water. It must have been alcoholic wine because the host of the party says (my translation), “Most people bring out the cheap wine after everyone gets drunk. You, however, have saved the best wine for last.”
Now before you go running off and telling my mother that I’m advocating getting drunk (I'm not), I would ask you to just hear me out on this. Not that it matters what I say about anything having to do with the Bible; I’m just asking you to check me out. Sort of a Fox News/Bill O’Reilly sort of commentary on the Bible, if you will – I report. You decide.
The reason that all of this matters I can trace back to the Jesus I met in Sunday school when I was growing up. And let me tell you one thing, he’s a lot different that the Jesus here in John chapter two. I could never have imagined him making wine for a party. I can't even imagine him going to a party.
The first problem I had with Sunday School Jesus is that he was a sissy. I’m sorry, but if you ever saw the Sunday school curriculum back in my day, you would have to agree with me. His long blonde hair hung in waves around his shoulders. He was handsome, even pretty - I could never tell. A halo hovered over his head that looked like the fluorescent light in my grandmother’s bathroom. That just freaked me out. But I think the worst thing about my Sunday School Jesus was the way he held his hands out in front of him with his palms extended toward his viewers. That really gave me the creeps.
I’ve got to be honest with you: I’ve never seen a man who even remotely resembled Sunday School Jesus in appearance. He was untouchable, unapproachable even. He’s the kind of guy who could change the conversation when a group of the guys were hanging around the boat ramp at the lake.
“I been thinking about getting a new four-stroke Honda fifty horse with a …, shhhh - here comes that weird guy with the circle of light over his head who holds his hands out in front of him all funny like.”
No sir, you would never talk regular guy stuff around my Sunday School Jesus. As my brother-in-law often tells me, you could tell Sunday School Jesus weren’t from around here.
The problem with my Sunday School Jesus is that you just can’t find him in the Bible. I’m telling you the truth – he’s nowhere to be found. Not even a hint of him. But he keeps showing up at church.
On the other hand, the Jesus I see in the Bible is a rugged man who later in this chapter made a whip out of ropes and beat the fool out of some ruffians who were messing up his father’s house. He told his followers that he came to cause trouble. He told his disciples to buy weapons. All of this and he never took up weapons against anyone. In fact, he marched willingly and fearlessly to his death. He wasn't all that easy to figure out. As a matter of fact, he seemed to go out of his way to confuse people. Almost like he was playing head games with them sometimes. At other times he was brutally direct.
Another thing I like about the Bible Jesus is that he hung around with regular guys. Four were fishermen. One was a hated tax collector. Another was a revolutionary who wanted to throw the Romans out of Palestine – by force. Even Jesus was a carpenter. They certainly were not the theological seminary types, I can tell you that for sure. Instead, they were rowdy and impulsive. Luke calls them unschooled and ordinary.
Jesus was indeed one of the guys in many respects, but he also had a tender spot for people that a lot of men don't have. He noticed blind people and crippled folks. He paid attention to widows and children. He could spot a hypocrite a mile away. One minute he was pouring scalding hot water on the self-righteous, the next he was lifting a humiliated whore out of the dust and asking her where her accusers were.
That’s why this story in John 2 is so important to me. He’s at a wedding. He’s talking to other common people. All around him this party is going on, and no one notices that the son of God is in their midst? The bride and groom are gazing blissfully into one another’s eyes. The proud parents are boasting about how many grandkids the union will produce. The attendees are catching up on news from relatives and friends they haven’t seen in a while. The house is filled with joy and laughter. But no one notices that Messiah is at the party.
What do you think would have happened if my Sunday School Jesus had floated into the room on a misty clould? He would have broken up the party, that's what.
Abraham Honey, let’s go home. I know it’s early, but that Sunday School Jesus is giving the me the creeps. Look at how he holds out his hands. Something ain’t right with that boy.
I know it’s hard for us to accept the fact that Jesus was a man – a real man. What I' not sure about is why. Maybe it’s because he lived a life none of us has ever been able to live, and that is inconceivable to us. We might be thinking, I don’t know about that tempted- in- every- way- as- I- have thing. There’s no way he could have stood up to the temptations I’ve faced and remained sinless.
So we invent another Jesus, one who was aloof – above the fray. Sanitized, if you will. My Sunday School Jesus resembled a man – sort of. But not really. He was alien, from another planet. Nothing like me.
Maybe I want to sanitize Jesus because if I can negate his humanity, I can negate his suffering. If I can negate his suffering, I can negate the part I played in his dying. So I turn his palms outward, I let him play the part of an effeminized, angelic almost-man, and call him Savior. My Jesus suffered, but it wasn’t all that bad; after all, he had a halo.
What’s the difference, you might be asking. You might wonder why it’s so important for me to see Jesus as a real man. Why did Jesus have to appear in human flesh anyhow? Why did he have to be made just like me with all the trappings of humanity?
The Belgic Confession states, He sent his son to assume the nature in which the disobedience had been committed, in order to bear in it the punishment of sin by his most bitter passion and death.
Those words go a long way in explaining why. By his suffering and death, he paid the penalty for my guilt. But that’s not all.
The truth is I had to have some evidence that God was willing to adopt me as one of his own before I could accpet his offer of mercy. That he would do so was inconceivable to me. I’m too dirty, too sinful for him to do that. Every time he approached me, I ran the other way. In my mind I was an enemy with him because of my evil behavior. Because of my sin, I was alienated from him.
Sometimes, when I call out to the God of heaven, I imagine that no one, especially God, can understand me. I envision an enormous gulf between me and him – one that I could never traverse, one that he would be unwilling to. More than anything, I am consumed with my own unworthiness. If the gap would be bridged, it would not be me who did it.
Yes, I was alienated from God. But listen to the rest of the story:
Once you were alienated from God and were enemies in your minds because of your evil behavior. But now he has reconciled you by Christ's physical body through death to present you holy in his sight, without blemish and free from accusation-- if you continue in your faith, established and firm, not moved from the hope held out in the gospel. This is the gospel that you heard and that has been proclaimed to every creature under heaven, and of which I, Paul, have become a servant. (Col 1:21-23)
The story of Jesus is that God appeared – as a man just like me. He didn’t have an edge on me except that he knew who he was, where he had come from, and where he was headed. But the human condition was real to him. The alluring pull of sin and the excruciating agony that accompanies resisting it was authentic, the genuine product.
In the end, he died because of me. Sad as it is, it is my only hope. And by placing my faith in his bloody death as the only way I will be released from my open rebellion to God, I glorify God. He reconciled me by Christ’s physical body through death. He did that to present me holy, unblemished, and free from accusation. That's not about me but him.
Even though the Bible Jesus is a lot more demanding than Sunday School Jesus, I’m going with him. I don’t know, he just seems like he fits in around here. He’s our kind of people if you know what I mean.
That would be a nice story if it weren’t for one little Greek word (those pesky foreign languages). You see, the Greek word translated as “too much to drink” (drunk freely, KJV), actually means “to get drunk.” That’s right – get drunk. If you want to check me out on this, have at it. The transliteration of the word is methusko. Everywhere else in the New Testament, it means just what I said it means – get drunk.
Now back to the new and properly revised story: Jesus goes to a wedding party. The party goes on until late in the night. The guests get drunk. They run out of wine. Jesus makes some more out of water. It must have been alcoholic wine because the host of the party says (my translation), “Most people bring out the cheap wine after everyone gets drunk. You, however, have saved the best wine for last.”
Now before you go running off and telling my mother that I’m advocating getting drunk (I'm not), I would ask you to just hear me out on this. Not that it matters what I say about anything having to do with the Bible; I’m just asking you to check me out. Sort of a Fox News/Bill O’Reilly sort of commentary on the Bible, if you will – I report. You decide.
The reason that all of this matters I can trace back to the Jesus I met in Sunday school when I was growing up. And let me tell you one thing, he’s a lot different that the Jesus here in John chapter two. I could never have imagined him making wine for a party. I can't even imagine him going to a party.
The first problem I had with Sunday School Jesus is that he was a sissy. I’m sorry, but if you ever saw the Sunday school curriculum back in my day, you would have to agree with me. His long blonde hair hung in waves around his shoulders. He was handsome, even pretty - I could never tell. A halo hovered over his head that looked like the fluorescent light in my grandmother’s bathroom. That just freaked me out. But I think the worst thing about my Sunday School Jesus was the way he held his hands out in front of him with his palms extended toward his viewers. That really gave me the creeps.
I’ve got to be honest with you: I’ve never seen a man who even remotely resembled Sunday School Jesus in appearance. He was untouchable, unapproachable even. He’s the kind of guy who could change the conversation when a group of the guys were hanging around the boat ramp at the lake.
“I been thinking about getting a new four-stroke Honda fifty horse with a …, shhhh - here comes that weird guy with the circle of light over his head who holds his hands out in front of him all funny like.”
No sir, you would never talk regular guy stuff around my Sunday School Jesus. As my brother-in-law often tells me, you could tell Sunday School Jesus weren’t from around here.
The problem with my Sunday School Jesus is that you just can’t find him in the Bible. I’m telling you the truth – he’s nowhere to be found. Not even a hint of him. But he keeps showing up at church.
On the other hand, the Jesus I see in the Bible is a rugged man who later in this chapter made a whip out of ropes and beat the fool out of some ruffians who were messing up his father’s house. He told his followers that he came to cause trouble. He told his disciples to buy weapons. All of this and he never took up weapons against anyone. In fact, he marched willingly and fearlessly to his death. He wasn't all that easy to figure out. As a matter of fact, he seemed to go out of his way to confuse people. Almost like he was playing head games with them sometimes. At other times he was brutally direct.
Another thing I like about the Bible Jesus is that he hung around with regular guys. Four were fishermen. One was a hated tax collector. Another was a revolutionary who wanted to throw the Romans out of Palestine – by force. Even Jesus was a carpenter. They certainly were not the theological seminary types, I can tell you that for sure. Instead, they were rowdy and impulsive. Luke calls them unschooled and ordinary.
Jesus was indeed one of the guys in many respects, but he also had a tender spot for people that a lot of men don't have. He noticed blind people and crippled folks. He paid attention to widows and children. He could spot a hypocrite a mile away. One minute he was pouring scalding hot water on the self-righteous, the next he was lifting a humiliated whore out of the dust and asking her where her accusers were.
That’s why this story in John 2 is so important to me. He’s at a wedding. He’s talking to other common people. All around him this party is going on, and no one notices that the son of God is in their midst? The bride and groom are gazing blissfully into one another’s eyes. The proud parents are boasting about how many grandkids the union will produce. The attendees are catching up on news from relatives and friends they haven’t seen in a while. The house is filled with joy and laughter. But no one notices that Messiah is at the party.
What do you think would have happened if my Sunday School Jesus had floated into the room on a misty clould? He would have broken up the party, that's what.
Abraham Honey, let’s go home. I know it’s early, but that Sunday School Jesus is giving the me the creeps. Look at how he holds out his hands. Something ain’t right with that boy.
I know it’s hard for us to accept the fact that Jesus was a man – a real man. What I' not sure about is why. Maybe it’s because he lived a life none of us has ever been able to live, and that is inconceivable to us. We might be thinking, I don’t know about that tempted- in- every- way- as- I- have thing. There’s no way he could have stood up to the temptations I’ve faced and remained sinless.
So we invent another Jesus, one who was aloof – above the fray. Sanitized, if you will. My Sunday School Jesus resembled a man – sort of. But not really. He was alien, from another planet. Nothing like me.
Maybe I want to sanitize Jesus because if I can negate his humanity, I can negate his suffering. If I can negate his suffering, I can negate the part I played in his dying. So I turn his palms outward, I let him play the part of an effeminized, angelic almost-man, and call him Savior. My Jesus suffered, but it wasn’t all that bad; after all, he had a halo.
What’s the difference, you might be asking. You might wonder why it’s so important for me to see Jesus as a real man. Why did Jesus have to appear in human flesh anyhow? Why did he have to be made just like me with all the trappings of humanity?
The Belgic Confession states, He sent his son to assume the nature in which the disobedience had been committed, in order to bear in it the punishment of sin by his most bitter passion and death.
Those words go a long way in explaining why. By his suffering and death, he paid the penalty for my guilt. But that’s not all.
The truth is I had to have some evidence that God was willing to adopt me as one of his own before I could accpet his offer of mercy. That he would do so was inconceivable to me. I’m too dirty, too sinful for him to do that. Every time he approached me, I ran the other way. In my mind I was an enemy with him because of my evil behavior. Because of my sin, I was alienated from him.
Sometimes, when I call out to the God of heaven, I imagine that no one, especially God, can understand me. I envision an enormous gulf between me and him – one that I could never traverse, one that he would be unwilling to. More than anything, I am consumed with my own unworthiness. If the gap would be bridged, it would not be me who did it.
Yes, I was alienated from God. But listen to the rest of the story:
Once you were alienated from God and were enemies in your minds because of your evil behavior. But now he has reconciled you by Christ's physical body through death to present you holy in his sight, without blemish and free from accusation-- if you continue in your faith, established and firm, not moved from the hope held out in the gospel. This is the gospel that you heard and that has been proclaimed to every creature under heaven, and of which I, Paul, have become a servant. (Col 1:21-23)
The story of Jesus is that God appeared – as a man just like me. He didn’t have an edge on me except that he knew who he was, where he had come from, and where he was headed. But the human condition was real to him. The alluring pull of sin and the excruciating agony that accompanies resisting it was authentic, the genuine product.
In the end, he died because of me. Sad as it is, it is my only hope. And by placing my faith in his bloody death as the only way I will be released from my open rebellion to God, I glorify God. He reconciled me by Christ’s physical body through death. He did that to present me holy, unblemished, and free from accusation. That's not about me but him.
Even though the Bible Jesus is a lot more demanding than Sunday School Jesus, I’m going with him. I don’t know, he just seems like he fits in around here. He’s our kind of people if you know what I mean.
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