"Therefore welcome one another as Christ has welcomed you, for the glory of God" (Ro 15:7). This is church language. A gathered-church. The context: Some were NOT welcoming others. So the word to church: "welcome those whom you are not welcoming." Negative application: What are our attitudes and actions NOW that communicate "you're unwelcome here" or prohibit the welcome of those we are not welcoming (those not like us/those we hate/those we in-some-way-look-down-upon)? Discover, lament, repent. Positive application: Intentional action that welcomes those unlike us whom we are not currently welcoming. My theology and understanding of the New Testament brings me into places and near people that I, otherwise, probably would not be. Sometimes this scares me, not because I am uncomfortable (and I am often uncomfortable as I should be or I am not learning from my theology and understanding of the New Testament), but because I am empty of solutions or resources or practical-on-the-spot comfort.
Children's message at service yesterday:
Kids, I want to ask you a question (like I usually do), but I want you to pause and really think about your answer. When you walk into a room, into a home, into a party, into any place where there are other people (your age), what's the first thing you ask yourself? Of course I spent a little time explaining what "ask yourself" means because they don't even know they are "asking" anything. Had plenty of puzzled looks for the most part . . . but I knew they'd get it when I told them what I thought their first question to themselves would be . . . I said, "When you walk into a room, into a home, into a party, into any place where there are other people (your age), don't you ask yourself, 'Are my friends here?' (Parents, don't we even ask this?)" You can see their minds work by their eyes and facial expressions. O yeah! Lots of nodding yes. They got it . . . so did the adults . . . Of course I said this is natural and not a bad thing . . . but that can stop us from asking other questions like, who is lonely here, who is not liked and needs a friend, who is uncomfortable here and needs someone to talk to . . . This is what Jesus did for us: he came into the party, knowing full well he didn't have any friends there, and asked, "Who is lost? Who needs a friend?" This is church, people (now I'm not talking to the kids, but you, blog friends). Maturing in Christ means getting beyond "who are my friends?" and "are my friends here?" And this is also about maturing as a church, as a gathered-church.
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I am reading or have read recently a number of books that seek to explain how we arrived at our very distinct demographic and mostly ethnic divisions that exist today—urban, suburban, and now exurban. (I will leave the rural landscape for others who have studied it more adequately.) Amid these books I am also learning how we have developed a functionally dependent class, mostly non-white, that live and try to survive in the most dense urban areas of our country. Much of what I have read affirms my own writing on the subject, which found its way into chapter 5—“Idolatry and Poverty: Social Action as Christian Apologetics”—of my book, Wasted Evangelism: Social Action and the Church’s Task of Evangelism. Below is a three-part adaption of the latter subsections of this chapter. Idolatry promotes a defective social reality for the non-poor Christian In his Nature and Destiny of Man, Reinhold Niebuhr observed that idolatry is making the contingent absolute, something relative into “the unconditional principle of meaning.” Luke Timothy Johnson points out that, when we consider something as ultimate, this is worship, not just what our lips or cultus ritual render, but in the exercise of our freedom in service to that which we consider absolute and unconditional, and, thus, derive our significance. It is, however, not just an image fashioned with gold and silver that provides the danger and potential of idolatry, for the Bible is clear, such man-fashion idols are no-things (Isa 41:21–24; 44:10; Ps 115; 135; Acts 14:15; 1 Cor 8:4; 10:19; Gal 4:8). Johnson reminds us that “important idolatries have always centered on those forces which have enough specious power to be truly counterfeit, and therefore truly be dangerous: sexuality (fertility), riches, and power (or glory).” It is the body of knowledge that accompanies the object and the habits of service in worshipping the objects (i.e., idols) and, then, the social and cultural habits that follow that develop an everyday “world,” with meaning and definitions for relationships (repeated action, mundane habits), that objectifies reality and maintains significance and plausibility (its symbols and corresponding institutions). Our socially constructed world, then, is reality formed by our service of worship and sustained (validated) through the habits and experience of everyday life.
However, to understand fully the non-poor’s everyday reality, it is simply “not enough to understand the particular symbols or interaction patterns of individual situations.” It is how the “overall structure or meaning” within “these particular patterns and symbols” are experienced. As we seek to apply the gospel that is embedded with texts regarding idolatry (e.g., the overwhelming number in Mark’s own gospel) and, as well, texts indicative of relationships toward the economically vulnerable, it is important to understand how the social-location experienced by many non-poor Christians was formed and its implications for their (i.e., the non-poor) participation in the outcomes of this social-location. Religion once offered an integrating principle that helped provide a “life-world” that was “more or less unified.” But, modern life not only provides a less unified everyday life, now religion often aligns itself with the socio-economic forces that help sustain the plausibility of our faith, which can then inoculate the non-poor Christian from the idolatrous forces embedded in their social-location. Over time new symbols and signs (lawns, yards, gated communities, commutes and highways, social status, shopping malls, upward mobility, the market, double-entry accounting, etc.) that permeate the social-location the modern non-poor Christian experiences as everyday life compete with biblical symbols (e.g., the words of God, the cross, redemptive-historical acts of God in history, etc.). Johnson reminds us, “Prior to any action or pattern of actions we might term ‘Christian’ is a whole set of perceptions and attitudes, which themselves emerge from a coherent system of symbols, and an orientation toward the world and other humans, which we call Faith.” In fact, the very habit of experiencing the fragmented, often unintegrated social-locations over and over everyday might feel like freedom bestowed by our socio-economic system, but actually weakens the plausibility of biblical faith to inform our home world. Non-poor Christians are in danger of idolatry when finding themselves in need of affirming “this worldly” system and its institutions as God-given in order to be at home, plotting their lives on the societal map provided by social institutions rather than biblical discipleship in order to relate—comfortably, plausibly, securely—to the overall web of acceptable meanings in society. As Berger in Homeless Mind points out, because of the plurality of social worlds—work, school, play, third places, highways, commutes, home, shopping, church—in modern society “the structures of each particular world are experienced as relatively unstable and unreliable.” The separated sectors of our social world are rationalized and relativized, forcing the non-poor Christian to justify religiously this worldly system and institutions in order to feel less exposed and vulnerable and more relevant and secure. After decades of political alignment and religious justification, for the most part, the non-poor Christians living in the suburbs now feel at home.
Anyone who has taken the time to visit the Wasted Evangelism site knows I have been interacting with material on Christian hospitality and issues of homelessness. I was re-introduced, recently, to a section of Mark’s Gospel that provoked even further thought on such subjects: Mark 11, the cursing of the fig tree and Jesus’ references to Jeremiah’s “den of robbers” when he overturned the tables in the temple court. Most read these Mark 11 episodes and do not tie them back to their Old Testament contexts (which Mark does on a narrative level), nor forward to the poor widow episode in the very next chapter (which Mark most certainly does at the narrative level). Mark actually guides the reader through a series of episodes that connect back to the widow of the Old Testament and forward to the widow episode in chapter 12. For those patient enough to wade through this material from my Wasted Evangelism book, please note that unless otherwise indicated, throughout this section the widow or simply widow is meant as a synecdoche, indicating the whole of vulnerable widows and, if the context allows, the larger group of vulnerable people: orphans, foreigners, the poor, the fatherless, etc. Mark is known for his bracketing structures that help guide his readers/listeners through the narrative. There is an overlooked bracket in the Jerusalem-temple entrance-exit segment of the Gospel (Mark 11–13). The maltreatment of the widow brackets Jesus’ entrance into the temple area and his exit (Mark 11:11—13:2). These brackets can be seen in how the OT frames this segment of Mark’s Gospel.
The Jeremiah-widow context: “Do not trust in deceptive words, saying, ‘This is the temple of the Lord, the temple of the Lord, the temple of the Lord.’ For if you truly amend your ways and your deeds, if you truly practice justice between a man and his neighbor, if you do not oppress the alien, the orphan, or the widow, and do not shed innocent blood in this place, nor walk after other gods to your own ruin, then I will let you dwell in this place, in the land that I gave to your fathers forever and ever. Behold, you are trusting in deceptive words to no avail” (Jer 7:4–8).
The Exodus-widow context: “You shall not afflict any widow or orphan. If you afflict him at all, and if he does cry out to Me, I will surely hear his cry; and My anger will be kindled, and I will kill you with the sword, and your wives shall become widows and your children fatherless” (Exod 22:22–24).
The Malachi-widow context: “‘Then I will draw near to you for judgment; and I will be a swift witness against the sorcerers and against the adulterers and against those who swear falsely, and against those who oppress the wage earner in his wages, the widow and the orphan, and those who turn aside the alien and do not fear Me,’ says the Lord of hosts” (Mal 3:5).
The widow is present in temple charges As the bracketing above shows, the widow is embedded throughout this section in key events. When Jesus had interrupted the commerce in the Court of the Gentiles (Mark 11:15–18), reference is made to Jeremiah’s temple sermon: “And He began to teach and say to them, ‘Is it not written, “My house shall be called a house of prayer for all the nations”? But you have made it a robbers’ den’” (Mark 11:17). The indictment comes from Jeremiah 7:11 in which Yahweh declares that his house/temple had become a den of robbers. The preceding context (Jer 7:4–8) indicates the foundation for the charge (v. 11) and offers a fuller background to evaluate the significance of the thread of conflicts in Mark 11–12, as well as the presence of the economically vulnerable widow (12:41–44) in the temple courts and her presence behind the temple-threat (13:2). In the Jeremiah context, the widow is present as the nation of Israel is called to repentance, a return to Exodus covenant land-laws (e.g., Exod 22:22–24; Lev 19:9–10; 23:22; Deut 14:28–29; 24:19–21) that would forestall judgment: Do not trust in deceptive words, saying, “This is the temple of the Lord, the temple of the Lord, the temple of the Lord.” For if you truly amend your ways and your deeds, if you truly practice justice between a man and his neighbor, if you do not oppress the alien, the orphan, or the widow, and do not shed innocent blood in this place, nor walk after other gods to your own ruin, then I will let you dwell in this place, in the land that I gave to your fathers forever and ever. Behold, you are trusting in deceptive words to no avail (Jer 7:4–8). Israelite leadership had a false sense of security. They had ignored the covenant warnings (e.g., Exod 22:22–24). Yet, despite their neglect of Torah land-stipulations regarding the care of the impoverished and their disregard for justice, the leaders believed the temple would receive special protection from God’s judgment because it was his dwelling (Jer 7:4–8). Such faith was misplaced and to no avail (Jer 7:8) for the temple will be destroyed (Jer 7:12–15; Mal 3:1–5; Mark 13:2). Additionally, the OT reference in Mark 11:17 also reflects Isaiah 56:7 (My house will be called a house of prayer for all the peoples) in which the prophet exhorted, Preserve justice and do righteousness because Yahweh’s salvation is about to come and His righteousness to be revealed (56:1). Yet the prophetic voice goes unheeded (note 56:10–12). The widow connection is further confirmed by Mark’s reference to selling doves as part of the description of the “buying and selling in the temple” (11:15). (Note Lev 5:11; 12:8; 14:22, a poor leper!; and, 14:30.) Mark draws upon the maltreatment of the poor through an obvious OT reference to a Levitical provision for the impoverished: But if he cannot afford a lamb, then he shall bring to the Lord his guilt offering for that in which he has sinned, two turtledoves or two young pigeons, one for a sin offering and the other for a burnt offering (Lev 5:7). Could it be that Jesus is condemning the “concept of a Temple tax”? Robert Gundry infers as much when he writes regarding the table-turning scene: The sellers sell sacrificial animals guaranteed to be clean to pilgrims who live too far away to bring their own and to locals who do not want to risk having their own animals declared unclean by priestly inspectors. The moneychangers give acceptable Tyrian currency for other currencies in order that worshipers may pay the temple tax and buy sacrificial animals (m. Seqal. 1:3, 47–8; 5:3–5 et passim). Doves are sold to worshipers who cannot afford animals (Lev 1:14; 5:7, 11; 12:6, 8). Mark certainly implies, Jesus has something against the temple-court activities and their effect on the economically vulnerable, for there is a clear link between the poor and Jesus’ living parable of judgment (i.e., overturning the tables). The overturning-tables-event, along with the disturbing scene of the Mark 12 poor widow left devastated at the hands of the scribes, was part of an elaborate commerce-banking system that was taking advantage of the poor.
Second, the fig-tree scene is also an allusion, if not a direct referent to Jeremiah 8:13:
The fig-tree episode is closely linked to the table-turning scene in that Jesus’ OT references are in close proximity. The cursing of the fig-tree is “a dramatic invocation” of Jeremiah 7–8. Moreover, the prophetic words of judgment are acted out as a living parable when Jesus overturns the tables in the temple courts, which points to the temple’s end. The enactment is complete when the fig-tree, afterward, is withered from the roots up (Mark 11:20b), which prophetically ensures the temple’s eventual demise. To make the Jeremiah 7–8 correspondence to Mark’s Jerusalem-temple entrance-exit segment more vivid, it is interesting to note that Jeremiah even adds an indictment against scribes:
The chief priests and the scribes (Mark 11:18a) found themselves the targets of Jesus’ indictments and the object of his judgment parables (activities). They understood his action-parable, for they began seeking how to destroy Him (11:18b; note 3:6; 12:12). Yet, ironically, Jesus will soon make the same predication of the temple (13:2). The widow is present in the promised destruction of the temple Finally, the closing widow-bracket is Jesus’ exit from the temple (13:1–2) in which there is an OT referent that includes the widow. Following the warning about duplicitous scribes (12:38–40) and the observation regarding the poor widow (vv. 41–44), Jesus, then, declares that judgment would befall the temple (13:2). Here in the final scene, Mark ends the Jerusalem-temple entrance-exit segment (Mark 11–13) with a link to the Malachi 3 threat. First, the Lord had come suddenly (“unexpectedly”) to his temple, bringing judgment (portrayed in the judgment-action-parables). We read in Malachi: “Behold, I am going to send My messenger, and he will clear the way before Me and the Lord, whom you seek, will suddenly come to His temple; and the messenger of the covenant, in whom you delight, behold, He is coming,” says the Lord of hosts (Mal 3:1). Second, the widow is in close proximity to this announcement of judgment, which provides a basis for the Malachi threat (3:1), that is, the reason the temple will be destroyed: “Then I will draw near to you for judgment; and I will be a swift witness against the sorcerers and against the adulterers and against those who swear falsely, and against those who oppress the wage earner in his wages, the widow and the orphan, and those who turn aside the alien and do not fear Me,” says the Lord of hosts (Mal 3:5). The Malachi threat is related to the maltreatment of the widow (i.e., not fulfilling the covenant land-laws toward the economically vulnerable), clearly signifying Mark’s intention for drawing upon the poor widow in Mark 12 just prior to Jesus’ pronouncement of temple judgment (13:2). The association between Mark 11–13 and the Malachi 3 threat is made more poignant to the reader/listener, for in the wider context of Malachi’s prophetic pronouncement there are charges against the leadership of Israel. They have disregarded God’s “statutes” (Mal 3:7; also 4:4). They are charged with “robbing” God through the misappropriation of temple tithes and offerings (Mal 3:8–9). Interestingly, the temple authorities who were to receive the tithes and offerings were to share it with the widow: When you have finished paying all the tithe of your increase in the third year, the year of tithing, then you shall give it to the Levite, to the stranger, to the orphan and to the widow, that they may eat in your towns and be satisfied (Deut 26:12; also note 14:29; Lev 27:30).
The widow context represents a serious breach of covenant-keeping. The violation of explicit land-laws and her presence throughout the Jerusalem-temple entrance-exit segment (i.e. the judgment-parable scenes of overturned-tables and the cursing of the fig-tree, the climactic poor widow scene of chapter 12, and the Malachi threat at the temple) indicate the final nail in the coffin for Israel, the result of extensive and continuous disobedience. This is the significance of the Mark 12 poor widow vs. duplicitous scribes episode, which presents a negative interpretation (i.e., a warning to beware) and should cause concern for us on this side of the story as we consider how this text offers a paradigm for Christian discipleship.
There is some irony to the two typical reactions (that is, the two interpretations) to the story, which I call the poor widow vs. duplicitous scribes episode: one holds it up as an example of faithful devotion and sacrificial giving, while the other sees judgment, lament, and tragedy. Everything about this short story, in Mark 12, suggests that the widow is being taken advantage of by a temple leadership that does not have her best interests in mind. Although it might be advantageous for churches and Christian ministries to see the poor widow as an example of sacrificial giving, this interpretation, however, turns the text 180 degrees contrary to its context and is disconnected from the plot Mark has developed through his Gospel narrative. This leads to a failure of interpretation that distracts the Christian community from developing biblically authoritative and analogous application from this text. This episode fits within Mark’s paradigm for Christian discipleship; but, what does it require of the Christian community? How does it inform the Christian call to discipleship? Is the widow the focal point, or is the failure of temple leadership the crux of the story that should form the church’s understanding of discipleship? Mark does draw a narrative correspondence between the widow giving her whole life [my translation for holon ton bion autēs, 12: 44c] and Jesus’ imminent sacrifice, the giving of his own life. Some take this to mean that “we, too, should give our lives and resources sacrificially like the widow and Jesus.” No! This is an inappropriate analogy and is an ill-fitted correspondence to the text and its context. While the link to Jesus is certainly there in the Gospel story, the larger issue is the burden that was improperly, even maliciously, laid on the poor widow by the temple establishment—the poor widow should not have had to give her whole life (v. 44c). This is the point here: as God’s representatives, the scribes and, as well, the whole of temple leadership should have been her advocates, not the cause of her destitution. The link to Jesus is simply that he will step up to be her advocate and will give his life on her behalf.
Jesus’ observation of a poor widow who had given the last of her financial resources for which her whole life depended can just as equally be read as “downright disapproval” [Addison Wright] and not as praise. The contrast between the scribes and the widow is not about piety, but for illustrating and emphasizing the duplicitous conduct of the scribes. It is lamentable to watch this act of the poor widow in the presence of such wealth and religious duplicity. We can fail to notice there is a tragedy happening that day, right there in the temple courts. *From “Widows in Our Courts (Mark 12:38–44): The Public Advocacy Role of Local Congregations as Discipleship,” chapter 1 of Wasted Evangelism. All royalties from sales of Wasted Evangelism is given to support our church planting efforts and ministry in The Hill community of New Haven, CT.
We do not lack for sermons and books on the topic of discipleship. Some Christians speak about discipleship as if it is something to be into—like being into politics or into running or into body building or into gaming. But such a view of discipleship betrays some faulty assumptions. First, we tend to formulate the call to discipleship as an option for Christians to consider. Second, there is a tendency (especially in today’s consumer oriented churches) to make discipleship attractive (with a book you can buy or a study-guide to purchase). The fact is, there is nothing attractive about discipleship. It calls for an undivided loyalty to the gospel, full allegiance to Jesus, the Messiah. It calls people to place themselves at the disposal of Jesus and the work of his church. Dietrich Bonhoeffer said it best: “When Christ calls a man, he bids him come and die.” As Paul puts it in his letter to the Philippians, both Timothy and Epaphroditus are examples of discipleship. They, indeed, exemplify what J.B. Phillips remarked about the early Church: "Perhaps because of their very simplicity, perhaps because of the readiness to believe, to obey, to give, to suffer and if need be to die, the Spirit of God found what He must always be seeking—a fellowship of men and women so united in faith and love that He can work in them and through them with the minimum of . . . hindrance. Paul, in referring to Timothy and Epaphroditus, is they are examples of a committed Christian life—they are examples of the Christian life of discipleship. The Christian life is a call to discipleship, a call to authentic Christian living. Whereas sanctification is the process (and progress) of becoming more like Christ, discipleship is the discipline, the lifestyle of the one who is becoming more like Christ. As one reads through a text like Philippians 2:19–30, we discover the marks of the true disciple of Jesus Christ. Paul certainly is informing his friends back in Philippi about his situation. But in doing so he uses special words to describe Timothy and Epaphroditus. He wants the Christians of the Philippian church to know these two men are models of the Christ hymn Paul earlier cited (2:5–7): "Have this mind among yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant . . ." We should resolve to be the servants, bond slaves actually, that characterize Jesus; servants that lives the gospel as models of Jesus. As Christ followers, we shine as lights in a dark world. Timothy and Epaphroditus model this for us. Paul shows us the way (2:12–18). "Therefore, my beloved, as you have always obeyed, so now, not only as in my presence but much more in my absence, work out your own salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God who works in you, both to will and to work for his good pleasure. Do all things without grumbling or disputing, that you may be blameless and innocent, children of God without blemish in the midst of a crooked and twisted generation, among whom you shine as lights in the world, holding fast to the word of life, so that in the day of Christ I may be proud that I did not run in vain or labor in vain. Even if I am to be poured out as a drink offering upon the sacrificial offering of your faith, I am glad and rejoice with you all. Likewise you also should be glad and rejoice with me."
Mark's Gospel narrative is not merely informational in nature; it is meant to move an audience to respond. Mark expected his readers/listeners, that is, the community of believers, to respond to his Gospel—to hear and be affected by the stories and teachings and events that shape his narrative. This is equally true regarding the Mark 12 scene under discussion, the poor widow vs. the duplicitous scribes. The “greater condemnation” (12:40)[1] of the temple establishment and the end of the temple (i.e., its destruction, 13:2) should not be dismissed as mere historical information or relevant only to the Israel of old. Mark crafts his narrative in such a way that pulls his readers/listeners into the story so they would hear that their end can have a similar outcome if they are likewise unprepared, for they, too, do not know when the master of the house is coming (Mark 13:35).[2] The warning to beware of duplicitous scribes is soon followed by Jesus’ disciples pointing out the “wonderful stones” and “wonderful buildings” of the temple (13:1). It is to this which Jesus replies, “Not one stone will be left upon another” (13:2). This is ironic and disappointing. The disciples didn’t get it; they had missed the point. They have not been listening—a dangerous place to be, for this is the OT charge against Israel’s unprepared leadership. Yet all readers/listeners are to guard against their own unpreparedness at the (re)appearance of the Master of the house. [1] Mark uses krima here, which means judgment and is most likely drawn from the Malachi reference (Mal 3:5). [2] The drawing in of the readers/listeners can also be seen in the “hardening” texts directed at the disciples (Mark 6:51–52; 8:14–21). *From “Widows in Our Courts (Mark 12:38–44): The Public Advocacy Role of Local Congregations as Discipleship,” chapter one of Wasted Evangelism.
We do not lack for sermons and books on the topic of discipleship. Some Christians speak about discipleship as if it is something to be into—like being into politics or running or weight loss. But such a view of discipleship betrays some faulty assumptions. First, we tend to formulate the call to discipleship as an option for Christians to consider. And second, there is a tendency (especially in today’s consumer oriented churches) to make discipleship attractive. The fact is, there is nothing attractive about discipleship. It calls for an undivided loyalty to the gospel. It calls people to place themselves at the disposal of the Church and Christ's work through it. Dietrich Bonhoeffer said it best: “When Christ calls a man, he bids him come and die.” Both Timothy and Epaphroditus exemplify what J.B. Phillips remarked about the early Church: Perhaps because of their very simplicity, perhaps because of the readiness to believe, to obey, to give, to suffer and if need be to die, the Spirit of God found what He must always be seeking—a fellowship of men and women so united in faith and love that He can work in them and through them with the minimum of… hindrance. What Paul implies in his descriptions of these two men indicates what the true Christian life is. The deeper Christian life is a call to discipleship, a call to authentic Christian living. Whereas sanctification is the process (and progress) of becoming more like Christ, discipleship is the discipline, the lifestyle of the one who is becoming more like Christ. Making one's way through 2:19-30, we discover the marks of the true disciple of Jesus Christ. Paul certainly is informing his friends and church plant back in Philippi about his situation. But in doing so, he uses special words to describe Timothy and Epaphroditus. He wants the Philippians to know these two men are models of the Christ hymn Paul earlier cited (2:6 11). The narrative implies instruction. We should resolve to give the God's church, the local church, and the gospel priority (2:1 4, 12 18). Biographies, autobiographies, and the diaries of great Christian men and women fascinate me. Giants such as John Wesley, George Whitefield, David Brainerd and Jonathan Edwards captivate me. I am convicted, motivated, and humbled by the accounts of those whom God has greatly used to promote His cause and increase His kingdom. In eternity I am sure we will learn of countless others unmentioned in the history books and unnoticed by the general public. Jonathan Edwards, born in 1703, enrolled at Yale at age thirteen. (Thirteen, people!) He was a key instrument through whom God brought a great spiritual awakening to early colonies that had become careless about the faith of their forefathers. His influence was felt in much of New England, New York and New Jersey. Eventually Edwards was asked to become president of Princeton College, a school then devoted to training church leaders. The life of this incredible man of God ended one month after he arrived at his new post. Ah, but what a life! Jonathan Edwards has been the subject of many biographies. All seek to discover what motivated him, what drove him, what fed his passion. For answers, we must return to Yale College and note the aspirations of this young student. Edwards was convinced he must make some resolutions in the presence of his God. The list numbered 70 items, all of which he committed to memory. I am particularly interested in "Resolve 6," which certainly summarizes the passion of Edwards’ heart: “Resolved to live with all my might while I yet live.” In pondering that resolution we must keep two things in context. First, life to young Edwards was a gracious gift from God. Second, all of his resolves were made in the consciousness that God was looking on. His first resolution, in fact, was to “do whatsoever I think to be most to the glory of God.” Since God’s honor and glory were at stake in his life, Edwards further resolved “to find out fit objects of liberty and charity.” Further, he would “live so as I shall wish I had done when I come to die.” This is a reflection of biblical discipleship, most rare in today's modern, consumer-oreiented church. This is a short excerpt from my book, Destroying Our Private Cities, Building Our Spiritual Life, a lay commentary on Paul’s letter to the Philippians. Here’s a sample chapter, “Putting Jesus Back into Our Potential.” Of course you can click through to Amazon to purchase the book, too!
We know that Jesus left his disciplesus with a “new commandment,” which we read and hear in John 13: “A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another, even as I have loved you, that you also love one another. By this all men will know that you are My disciples, if you have love for one another” (John 13:34-35). We are familiar with this “new command,” yet at more so the sentimental level. We, however, need allow the context of the story surrounding this command to “love one another to fill the content of this love--the purpose of this love. There are plenteous commands regarding love and loving one's neighbor; so, why is this one particularly a "new" command? When Jesus was bidding his disciples farewell, for his time, that is his demise, was approaching—the time when the King of kings would be betrayed by a close friend; the time when the promised Messiah would face a rigged and illegal trail by those threatened by his very presence; the time when the Messiah-Rabbi-Discipler would be abandoned by the very ones he had trained; and, the time when the Prince of life would be hung on a Roman cross as a traitor and criminal--he gave some final instructions. Have you noticed that this new command to love one another is given within the context of betrayal.
Reading through Acts, the Luke's inspired volume of the early days of the apostles, we don’t see a whole lot of foot-washing and, as well, no such instruction is addressed in the Epistles to the churches. So what are we to make of following Jesus’ example? Why, then, is Jesus' final instructions important to the early church and for us now? The example seems instructive for a community with now leverage and no platform for its message. Perhaps the instruction is an ironic means of survival and endurance--a preventative measure and an embedded community habit against alignment with those who would be betrayers of Messiah and the brethren, inside and out. The following episode, the conversation between Jesus and Peter, is the first “test case.” Typically the focus is on Peter’s misplaced sense of humility, that is, his desire to prohibit Jesus from washing his feet. This foil links Peter to the betrayal framing (noted above), for we read, after Peter’s “wash all of me” over-reach (v. 9), Jesus immediately refocuses on Judas’ betrayal (vv. 10-11). The ensuing exchange between Jesus and Peter solidifies this “betrayal” direction (cf. v. 11). The table fellowship around the final meal where Jesus is the host puts Judas in the place of honor, sitting to Jesus’ side (i.e., his immediate left or right depending on the side of the table Jesus actually sat on and as Jewish tradition informs us). We are, then, in a sense (at least figuratively) sitting in that place of honor (because that's where we seek to be, is it not?). We seek to sit in the place of honor, only to be reseated elsewhere after the host arrives and the meal has begun; the place where Peter and John’s mother wanted them seated next to Jesus, but alas it was reserved for someone else: Judas, the betrayer. Then, after Jesus reveals the betrayer to John and Peter (vv. 21-29) and prior to the “new command,” we hear Jesus explain: “Therefore when he had gone out, Jesus said, ‘Now is the Son of Man glorified, and God is glorified in Him; if God is glorified in Him, God will also glorify Him in Himself, and will glorify Him immediately. Little children, I am with you a little while longer. You will seek Me; and as I said to the Jews, now I also say to you, ‘Where I am going, you cannot come’” (vv. 31-33). Then, Jesus immediately launches into what fulfills the example of the foot washing: “A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another, even as I have loved you, that you also love one another. By this all men will know that you are My disciples, if you have love for one another” (vv. 34-35). Pause long here enough to note, Peter does not hear the “new commandment.” What did the brazen, self-righteous future pillar of the church hear? The glory. Jesus mentions “glory” fives times in the space of two verses (vv. 31-32). Peter and the apostles focused on the grand movement of glory associated with Jesus, the promised Messiah and King. And, what? We can’t go with you? This is exactly what Peter hears and responds to: “Simon Peter said to Him, “‘Lord, where are You going?’” (v. 36). Peter does not hear, “Love one another.” He hears “glory.” He wants the “glory.” Judas’ place of honor at the table as it were. Jesus reveals that, even, Peter can be aligned with the betrayer. For, in fact this is exactly what Jesus implies when he challenged Peter's rash, bravado.
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AuthorChip M. Anderson, advocate for biblical social action; pastor of an urban church plant in the Hill neighborhood of New Haven, CT; husband, father, author, former Greek & NT professor; and, 19 years involved with social action. Archives
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