the gospel – awkward and sweet

And so John the Baptist appeared in the wilderness, preaching a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. The whole Judean countryside and all the people of Jerusalem went out to him. Confessing their sins, they were baptized by him in the Jordan River. John wore clothing made of camel’s hair, with a leather belt around his waist, and he ate locusts and wild honey. And this was his message: “After me comes the one more powerful than I, the straps of whose sandals I am not worthy to stoop down and untie. I baptize you with water, but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.” Mark 1:4-8

 

John the Baptist is a bit of an odd one. Can we just say that? If he were alive today and came wandering into our church with his strange way of dressing and bizarre diet most of us would secretly wish he would find another place to worship. More accurately, if we passed him on the street corner, we would write him off as a crazy and ignore him.

 

He’s not a casual, hang out kind of guy. He’s not a socially comfortable kind of guy. Something tells me he was probably one of those very intense personalities. He’s definitely not your good time guy and no one would mistake him for the go to person you count on to liven up the party. He’s always talking loudly about sin and repentance and some “One” who is coming. John the Baptist marched to the beat of his own drum in his time and it wouldn’t be any different if he lived in ours.

 

Having said all that, the awkwardness of John the Baptist is part of what I love about him. He’s bold and courageous. He’s focused on Jesus and our need for him. He doesn’t get caught up with what’s socially acceptable or a sense of wanting to be doing what everyone else is doing. And he’s proof that we don’t have to be that either.

 

In spite of all his awkward weirdness, people are still drawn to him. Mark 1 tells us the whole Judean countryside and all Jerusalem were going out to hear him speak. And more importantly, they were responding and repenting and being baptized. They were hearing his message of the coming Jesus and their need for repentance. They were hearing and they were accepting it.

 

The church today seems so overly obsessed at times with the desire to be cool and to be seen as a comfortable place for people. Honestly, it feels like much of the time the church in America doesn’t want to be seen as different. It’s as if our fear of being a turn off to some means we end up being compelling to none. The truth of the matter is that sin and repentance and the need for a savior are not very welcoming messages. It’s awkward to talk about our brokenness and the deceitfulness of our hearts. It certainly doesn’t make for great marketing strategies; at least not by worldly standards.

 

Jesus’ life and message is a constant reminder that selling ourselves, blending in, presenting things in a palatable way isn’t our place. He says some pretty harsh things at times, like declaring that he didn’t come to bring peace but a sword (Matthew 10:34). Or what about in John 6 where Jesus offends the crowds with his words about eating his flesh and drinking his blood? We find such a startling picture there when many of his disciples turned back and no longer followed him because of his offensive and hard teaching.

But what we have seemed to lose sight of these days is that it’s these harsh and socially unacceptable parts of the message that make grace so powerful and beautiful. It’s the full story of our sin and need for Jesus that ensures that grace is not viewed as cheap or easily come by. Grace is amazing primarily because of what it cost God to bring it to us.

 

I love John the Baptist because he makes no apologies for the difficulty of his message. He makes no attempts to look just like the culture so no one feels uncomfortable. He focuses on the One whose sandals he isn’t worthy to untie. He celebrates this One. And he makes no apologies for our need to repent, for the reality of our sin or the lowliness of our position. It’s the awkward, discomfort of the message of sin that makes the truth of the grace-giving Savior so sweet. Without the one we have only a cheap imitation of the other.

 

Of course there is a place for being “relevant” as the church, although I’m not so sure what that even means any more (it’s beginning to feel like empty banter that makes us church folk feel validated for falling in love with the world). Of course we’re supposed to connect with the culture and not isolate ourselves. And of course we’re called to be “all things to all people” as Paul reminds us. But I fear that at times we confuse the means for the ends. Being all things to all people is so that we might see some saved. It’s so that the gospel might be heard. At the end of the day our relevance, our ability to connect to the culture, our intention of being “all things” is so that all people might hear the awkward message of how sinful we are and how sweet the grace of Jesus is in the face of our dead hearts.

 

John the Baptist reminds us that we are to be bold and courageous. We are to be unapologetic at the offensiveness of the gospel. Because as hard a truth as it is, it’s a sweeter hope and fuller life than can be found anywhere else. And ultimately, the message of John the Baptist always centers on Jesus:

 

“After me comes the one more powerful than I, the straps of whose sandals I am not worthy to stoop down and untie. I baptize you with water, but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.”

 

advent day 13 and 14

Once again, the weekend seemed to slip away from me and I failed to send out the readings for days thirteen and fourteen. My humble apologies. I am sending these out now in case you are not yet to these day’s readings or would like to review them in spite of the fact that you were ready for them for the last two days.

 

To all who are taking this journey through advent with me: thank you. Seeking to be ready for the day of celebration—the day when Christ first entered the world as a tiny baby—is a large commitment. I am grateful to take this journey with you.

 

Here are the weekend’s readings. Later today I will send out today’s reading. We are starting a new week today. Worshipping. We have traveled through hearing the good news, to believing it. Now we seek to worship the King come as child. But first, take a few moments to consider these readings on believing.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________ 

Day Thirteen Reading: John 1:1-18

 

What does this passage have to say about believing in Jesus?

 

Consider this phrase: “the Word became flesh and dwelt among us.” In light of the coming celebration of Jesus’ birth, how does this truth impact your prayers?

 

Prayer—Father we thank you for the grace upon grace that we receive from Jesus. Teach us to live in the truth of Jesus dwelling among us and in us.

 

 

Day Fourteen Reading: Luke 2:1-7

 

As you anticipate the celebration of Jesus’ birth take some time to consider the depth of God’s love for you in sending his Son. Consider the very real people, real places and real time of this birth.

 

Prayer—Father, give us great appreciation for your gift of Jesus and make real for us this birth, which leads to resurrection and life.

 

grieving well

All praise to God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. God is our merciful Father and the source of all comfort. He comforts us in all our troubles so that we can comfort others. When they are troubled, we will be able to give them the same comfort God has given us. For the more we suffer for Christ, the more God will shower us with his comfort through Christ. Even when we are weighed down with troubles, it is for your comfort and salvation! For when we ourselves are comforted, we will certainly comfort you. Then you can patiently endure the same things we suffer. We are confident that as you share in our sufferings, you will also share in the comfort God gives us.       2 Corinthians 1:3-7

 

 

I have delayed writing this morning for no other reason than it simply requires a great deal of emotional energy today. As I write I am grieving for two families. Families who are dear friends to my wife and I. Families who are both suffering the tragedy of loss today. Just a few short weeks ago both families were celebrating the expectancy of new life coming into their families. One family expecting their first, the other expecting their third. And in the span of three days, both have suffered loss at the hands of miscarriage.

 

There are no adequate words for this day, but if some could be said, these seem fitting: “I hate it when things like this happen. I do not like this world.” All too wise for her young years my eldest daughter proclaimed this sentiment through tears hot with anger and wet with grief far too large for her small heart.

 

This world is broken—as are all who live in it. And we suffer at the hands of tragedy and pain and loss. It’s not how it was meant to be. It’s simply how it is. Sin has wrought devastation and it breaks the heart to see people hurting with grief. They are suffering and we cannot make it right.

 

It is now that they need God’s comfort showered on them. This is the best we can offer them. Along with tears and hugs. Alongside an ear to listen and the meals brought to simplify the all too large and looming daily tasks. Above it all and through it all we call out for God’s comfort to come.

 

It is amazing how God is working even before the tragedy strikes. It shouldn’t be amazing—we know he is in control and knows all things. And yet it is. A God so magnificent and supreme invested in orchestrating the little things to bring comfort and assurance and wisdom in the midst of our tragedies.

 

Could it be considered coincidence that a sermon—planned weeks and weeks ago—could be on the topic of suffering the very day that a church body wrestles with these tragedies and seeks to understand how to love well and grieve with our beloved brothers and sisters? I suppose it could be—if we did not know the Father of mercy and source of all comfort.

 

How do we grieve well when others are hurting?

 

What does it look like to come along side without easy answers and trite explanations?

 

How do we love well for the long grief, not just the immediate sting of tragedy?

 

God is at work here. And in the midst of anger at brokenness and death we find comfort and assurance that he is able, whatever is needed. When we are sensing loss and hurting from our wounds, we have God who comforts. More than words, more than distractions to dull the pain, more than pushing it down so time can give us distance, this is what we hope in: a God who comforts the soul.

 

He will not crush the weakest reed or put out a flickering candle…

 

radically generous

But I tell you who hear me: Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you. If someone strikes you on one cheek, turn to him the other also. If someone takes your cloak, do not stop him from taking your tunic. Give to everyone who asks you, and if anyone takes what belongs to you, do not demand it back.      Luke 6:27-30

 

 

These hard words of Jesus are essentially a call to a radical kind of generosity. Giving of ourselves beyond what’s considered the norm and giving without regard for who we give to. It is so easy to be generous to those we like and those we are loved by. It is not too difficult to give to the responsible and the upstanding, but our enemies? Those who hate us? And so the call here is to a new kind of generosity.

 

What’s so generous about giving what people deserve or have earned? What’s so generous about giving to those who give equally back to us?

 

None of what Jesus calls us to here is easy or natural, but I often wonder if it is the call to do good to those who hate us which can be the most difficult to put into practice. Loving our enemies is no walk in the park, but it feels more ambiguous—or at least I can convince myself it is. Blessing those who curse me can really test my limits, but still, it’s just words. And at least for me, speaking words, while ultimately difficult and humbling, can be far easier than putting my feet and hands to action and actually doing something good for one who despises me.

 

There is a pride factor—a desire to give back to people what they “deserve” as we’ve defined it. But again, these words of Jesus are a call to a new kind of radical generosity. To be a people who give love and kindness and blessing to all people—even our enemies.

 

Every time I encounter these words there is that voice of objection in my head that cries out about not becoming a doormat, not being taken advantage of by the world. It’s a valid fear, and I don’t believe for one second that Jesus lived this kind of life—being taken advantage of and being run over by a world bent on getting all it can out of everyone it can. Quite the contrary. Jesus wasn’t weak or mousy or taken advantage of. But at the same time he gave himself more generously than any other—giving his very life for a people who did not know him or care about him.

 

I think maybe the key is that this kind of radical generosity goes on the offensive. It takes the game to the enemy, to the hater. It isn’t a call to be so weak that we are taken advantage of and then just say, “Oh well, I guess I shouldn’t expect anything more. I can’t really fight back or stand up for myself.”

 

Instead, Jesus is calling us to pursue our enemies with radical, generous love. To give by choice before it’s taken. Give love, give blessing, give good. And then when the world does take, which it will, give more.

 

I’ve come to the conclusion that this call is too much for me. I’m not interested in living like this if left to myself. Jesus needs to shape my heart into one that loves this well. I’ll never do it on my own. So I am learning to want this, trusting that he is transforming my heart into one that could possible love this generously. And all the while thinking of just how much havoc the world is thrown into when exposed to these kinds of people who love this generously.

 

shedding labels

I once came across a quote and honestly I don’t remember who said it originally—I think I read it in a book and the author was quoting someone else—but the words themselves have stuck with me.

 

“Jesus was killed because of who he ate with.”

 

 

Now I realize that these words could be carried too far and in totality it’s not completely true; they definitely took issue with his declaration to be the Son of God and his teaching of the Father and forgiveness! But like most great quotes there is some truth to its inflammatory words. The Pharisees certainly despised Jesus, in part, because of the company he kept, the people he associated with and those he shared meals with.

 

Certainly the shared meal carried far more significance in Jesus’ day and culture. Sitting down around the table communicated things about those you ate with and your intention to be in relationship with them. It wasn’t just the casual affair—or the quick practice of necessity—that it often is today. It was more; much, much more. And we can see it everywhere in the Gospels. Perhaps nowhere more clearly than at Matthew’s house.

 

Later, Levi held a banquet in his home with Jesus as the guest of honor. Many of Levi’s fellow tax collectors and other guests also ate with them. But the Pharisees and their teachers of religious law complained bitterly to Jesus’ disciples, “Why do you eat and drink with such scum?” Jesus answered them, “Healthy people don’t need a doctor—sick people do. I have come to call not those who think they are righteous, but those who know they are sinners and need to repent.”            Luke 5:29-32

 

The problem for the Pharisees was one of a very classic nature. And by classic, I mean it’s the norm of human society. Rankings and classifications, and separating the “better thans” from the “not as good” is typical human behavior. Typical, sinful, human behavior. We all do it. In every society, in every culture, in every segment of history we find the religious elitists segregating themselves from the “wicked”; we find the rich congregating in places not welcome to the poor. We find people of this background pushing away from people of that background. Blue collar/white collar; liberal/conservative; inner city/suburban. The list goes on and on and on. We like to label people and then sort them out so that we don’t feel too much need to associate with those who are different than us—“less” than us.

 

Why do you eat and drink with such scum?

 

Political correctness and “progress” have taught most of us not to say it quite so judgmentally, at least not out loud. But this reality is still alive and well. The world seeks to push away—and then ignore—the marginalized of society. But when Jesus comes, he goes right at people from every group, category, segment and label of society. He’s not looking for a certain kind of person, except to say that he is looking to those who know they are sinners who need to repent. I often wonder, if it is the sick who need a doctor, not the healthy, why is it that we as followers of Christ so often display such a pack mentality with regard to the healthy? We like the healthy, they are easy. They are not so much trouble. They look and feel and think more like us. So we run with them, share with them, befriend them, and leave the marginalized where we find them—on the sidelines of life and out of our way.

 

Jesus never worried about public perception, but instead looked to those who were willing to acknowledge their need of him, those who were ready to repent; and he embraced them. Blue collar fishermen, white collar tax collectors; Pharisees and the irreligious; the faithful and genuine and the unfaithful pretenders; he loved them all. He shared meals—and I would imagine laughs—with all of them. He taught, called, challenged and accepted no excuse from each and every one of them. And we are now called to the same. It seems we would love people far more like Jesus if we could start shedding labels and instead just see people.

 

Live in harmony with one another. Do not be proud, but be willing to associate with people of low position. Do not be conceited.   Romans 12:16

 

our lives

We loved you so much that we shared with you not only God’s Good News but our own lives, too.            1 Thessalonians 2:8

 

Reading the second chapter of Paul’s letter to the Thessalonians leaves me with one very clear impression:

 

I don’t love people very well.

 

I like people. I appreciate a lot of different things about people. I need people. But I don’t love them purely in the way I am loved by Christ.

 

Paul’s interest in the Thessalonians runs deep. His love is expressed in how he speaks of them, how he cares about them, how he pleads the best for them and from them. And he didn’t just come to share the idea of the Gospel. He came to live it out. He came and shared his very life with them.

 

Maybe it’s the church today and maybe it’s the culture—probably a little of both—but we live in a time when the tendency is to plug people into programs rather than invest in them as individuals. Admittedly, sharing our very lives requires a great deal more. And it’s quite possible that the problem is in part that we cannot share our lives with nearly as many as we can plug into a program. If we can draw people into a larger process that handles people as gathered collectives rather than individual souls we can handle a larger number.

 

In some ways the church must do this. It must reach out to larger numbers. Corporate worship gatherings are a great example of this. It’s necessary and important to gather together and be a part of the group. We need that. And it’s good stewardship of time and resources to make coordinated attempts to teach and share the gospel message of Jesus. But we also have to break the group down into individuals at times and connect by sharing life together.

 

The problem is, we can’t sit back and let the “professionals” do this. We can’t, as part of the Body, wait for the paid staff of the church to go out and share their lives with everyone. We have to start sharing our lives as well.

 

And this is why I’m realizing I don’t love people as much as should. I am trying to be a life sharer and I am trying to invest in others the way Paul speaks of here. And truth be told, I do have a heart that cries out to others and wants to connect with them. I do care about the individuals around me. I am interested in them.

 

But I also love my free time and my own interests and not being inconvenienced. I love these things and can allow them to pull me away from the people I am called to love. It’s not just a call to go and tell people Jesus loves them. We’re called to share the gospel, to make disciples, to teach them how to obey. We are called to teach others how to live as followers of Jesus. That’s not classroom work or textbook stuff. That’s every day, in the trenches, real life. It’s doing life together. It’s sharing struggles and frustrations. Talking through life changes, decision-making, heartaches, and dreams. It’s being in one another’s lives. This takes time and sacrifice. This means giving up and thinking about others.

 

We pleaded with you, encouraged you, and urged you to live your lives in a way that God would consider worthy. For he called you to share in his Kingdom and glory.            1 Thessalonians 1:12

 

 How can I know what it looks like for you to live a life worthy of God if I don’t even know what your life is like outside of a Sunday morning or a group gathering? If we never sit around the table and talk, or walk together and joke; if we never see each other in times of struggle or frustration we just can’t even know what it means to plead specifically for one another to live lives God would find worthy.

 

For he called you to share in his Kingdom and glory.

 

Share.

 

This is the call we should be hearing. Our lives need to be shared. God has shared his Kingdom and his glory. God has shared his Son, his life, his power. And we are called to share our lives.

 

We loved you so much that we shared with you not only God’s Good News but our own lives, too.

 

And maybe this is the rub. To follow Jesus means my own life is not really my own. It’s his and he calls me to share it. To give it up and give it away. To surrender to the needs of others over the interests of self. This is what it is to love others well.

 

not only words

We know, dear brothers and sisters, that God loves you and has chosen you to be his own people. For when we brought you the Good News, it was not only with words but also with power, for the Holy Spirit gave you full assurances that what we said was true. And you know of our concern for you from the way we lived when we were with you.         1 Thessalonians 1:4-5

 

I wonder if most of us who struggle with the task of sharing our faith in Jesus struggle because we think sharing the Gospel is just about offering words.

 

Most people I know experience at least a little (and often a lot) of trepidation about sharing their faith. It is only the few among us who seem to naturally and effortlessly find ways to communicate what they believe. Most of us struggle. We don’t want to sound overbearing and we’re afraid of being considered foolish so more often than not, we just don’t share. Our concerns for how we come across are valid—to a point—but ultimately I wonder if our bigger issue is simply the fact that, as I said: we think sharing our faith in Jesus is primarily about words.

 

Paul opens his letter to the Thessalonians with a higher view of sharing the gospel than just words we say. He says that when they brought the Good News it was not only with words—as if to imply that coming solely with words is to come in a way that lacks the fullness of how the gospel should be presented.

 

This is not to encourage the idea that words aren’t important or that it doesn’t matter what we say. We can see from the book of Acts that Peter and Paul were very careful to utilize the power of their words, to be creative in communicating the gospel and were very intentional and persuasive in the way they contended for the faith with their words. Words aren’t unimportant or inconsequential. They just don’t tell the story alone.

 

Paul reminds the Thessalonians that they didn’t just bring words, but power. Their coming wasn’t just the bringing of head knowledge. It wasn’t just a different way of looking at things or some theories to buy into it. They came with power. The Spirit of God was with them. He gave assurances to the people who were listening to the words of Paul. I would love to know how he gave assurances. I would love more specifics on the ways the Spirit revealed his power. It doesn’t say, but it seems evident that if I am just a lot of wind, just a multitude of words and no power of Spirit that something is not as it should be. If the full weight of the argument lies with my words, perhaps I am in need of taking more of a back seat and letting the Spirit lead.

 

Sharing my faith isn’t only words, but the Spirit’s power. The ambiguity of how that might look can be troubling to those of us who like to control and like to know everything. But maybe it’s just enough uncertainty to keep us on our knees and reliant on God as we go forward; sharing our words all the while knowing that our words alone aren’t enough. The Spirit must show up and do his work, bring his assurance.

 

This isn’t all Paul has to say about how they bring the Gospel. It’s not just with words. It’s not just the Spirit’s power. It is also their very lives.

 

You know of our concern for you from the way we lived when we were with you.

 

Paul doesn’t just come into a town and speak in the public square and then lock himself up in a private room for the evening. He lives among those he is sharing Jesus with. He shares his life. Not because his life is the key to people coming to faith in Christ, but because his life lends validity to the words he is speaking. He’s been changed by the Gospel. He’s been transformed by the power of Jesus’ resurrection. Living in full view of others—sharing his life with them—shows that it’s not just pretty words and persuasive arguments. He knows of what he speaks because he is affected by it, his life is changed by it.

 

Sharing our faith and making disciples is definitely driven by the words we speak, the way we communicate, the questions we ask. Words are critical. But words don’t tell the whole story. The Spirit brings power to save and our lives confirm the truth of what we say.

 

Thankfully, at the end of it all, we are only called to represent—with words and our lives—what God has done. He is the one who saves and he is the one who uses us to communicate his saving power.  The pressure is off. All we need to do is surrender and be open; open to allow God to continue transforming us, and open to his leading for sharing him with the world.

 

And when you are brought to trial in the synagogues and before rulers and authorities, don’t worry about how to defend yourself or what to say, for the Holy Spirit will teach you at that time what needs to be said.                 Luke 12:11-12

 

Preach the Gospel at all times and when necessary, use words.     -St. Francis of Assisi

 

deep calls to deep

Deep calls to deep in the roar of your waterfalls;
all your waves and breakers have swept over me.

By day the Lord directs his love, at night his song is with me—
a prayer to the God of my life.

                                                                        Psalm 42:7-8

 

Deep calls to deep.

 

The aching agony of a world of brokenness set against the backdrop of a God so whole. This hurts deep. The soul can only take so much. And these needs—this destitute state—serve as the great breaking point. I am being swept over by your anger and sorrow for a world gone wrong.

 

How can I do anything that will pick up broken pieces? How can I do nothing?

 

There is an angst in the everyday when I start to see with eyes you’ve given and love with a heart not my own. I am so helpless myself; so in need of the rescue that gives breath and life. There is an angst; a hurt. An anger and restlessness that cries of how I must reach out—I must reach in and share with souls long lost of a love that has found me.

 

Where are you in the midst of all this heartache and why have I been so comfortable while the nations rage?

 

Deep calls to deep.

 

Deep within a cry is forming; a cry from my depths to the deepness of God. Come and rid me of this comfort for the everyday and the ordinary. Come and bring your wholeness through me to the broken. Come with your gospel truth and resurrection power. Come Jesus, and resurrect my own heart from apathy and the paralysis of so much need and so little me.

 

Come and free me from making it about me. It is you, only you.

 

Deep calls to deep and you are calling me.

 

From somewhere deep within you are whispering gently and shouting violently for those who call themselves yours to live as such. To step up and step out. To reveal wholeness and Jesus and resurrection power that heals souls.

 

I am in turmoil as I see the needs of those who surround me and know my own need too well. It is too much, there is too far to go, to high to hope that I could do anything for others when I need like I do.

 

And yet…by day your love directs me. By night your song is with me. Your  song is my prayer to you. Deep calls to deep to remind me that it has never been me; it has always been you. You working in me you working through me. You and you and only ever you.

 

My soul thirsts for God, for the living God. When can I go and meet with God?           Psalm 42:2

 

You are here and here and always here. And deep within I feel you calling from somewhere deeper still. Calling me to you and calling me to your broken world.

 

 

There is a dissatisfaction even in the writing of these words. The calling, the cry, the angst is deep and words are found lacking. My soul is thirsty and the deep call is reverberating. I simply pray that I can find ears to hear and a heart to receive this song of the Lord’s love. May it be my prayer back to him.

 

may God give you…

This letter is from Paul, Silas, and Timothy.
  We are writing to the church in Thessalonica, to you who belong to God the Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.
  May God give you grace and peace.   1 Thessalonians 1:1

 

“Dear John…”

 

That’s how we open letters. That’s the way in our current culture we start speaking to someone in written form. And that’s if we are being formal. Or, if we are really being formal and writing to someone we don’t know we might throw out the old standby: “To whom it may concern…” But we don’t start letters like they did in the days of the early church. Maybe that’s partly because we aren’t writing the very words of God by the inspiration of the Spirit. That’s definitely some of it, but I think there is also just something to the time and culture that had a different idea of how to start a letter to another person. The way Paul starts his letters to the churches always seems to carry such weight and insight. His letter to the Thessalonians is no exception.

 

May God give you grace and peace.

 

We don’t talk like this to each other. We don’t proclaim or “bless” one another with this type of language today; at least not most of us. Probably due to the rise of formalized, institutional church and the fact that we live in Christian cultures that have lost some of the belief in the power of words.

 

The power of blessing someone with words—or cursing them—is found throughout the Scriptures. From Jacob stealing Esau’s blessing (which had simply been spoken words) to King Nebuchadnezzar’s speaking of curse upon himself when he took the credit from God, words hold powerful sway in the lives of people throughout the Bible. I don’t know that we see it quite that way today.

 

It seems the only way we see the church giving preference to words these days is within the movements that have turned this idea into little more than an almost magical way of getting what we want. Say the right things, use the right words, and God will give you what you want. But that’s not what it shows us in the Bible. When it comes to getting what we want from God we can certainly twist the idea of words being powerful and influential. Most of the time in the Bible when we see words being most powerfully, it has to do with how they are spoken over others. The whole idea of blessing others gives a great deal of weight to words and speaking.

 

God himself leads us in this when he brings out a priestly blessing for the priests to speak over the people:

 

Then the Lord said to Moses, ”Tell Aaron and his sons to bless the people of Israel with this special blessing:

 `May the Lord bless you
  and protect you.
 May the Lord smile on you
  and be gracious to you.
 May the Lord show you his favor
  and give you his peace.’

                                    Numbers 6:22-27

 

God is giving power and value to the words we speak over one another. And Paul is following suit in his letters to the churches.

 

May God give you grace and peace.

 

It’s really like a spoken prayer for others. Paul is calling for grace and peace to be experienced by his readers. What would it look like for us to pray this way for one another? To pray with the belief that our words of blessing spoken over one another are powerful?

 

I have to admit, there is a skeptical side of me. A side that cringes at the idea of making this sound magical or that gives us the power or recognition. Make no mistake, this is not a call for us to embrace the power of our own voice, or to distract from the fact that anything we say or do only finds value in as much as God himself steps in and makes it happen. I just have to acknowledge that the God-followers of Scripture recognized that speaking words of intent and blessing over one another was something to cherish and practice. Perhaps it’s time to reclaim this way of speaking—this way or praying for one another.

 

the discipleship problem

Therefore, go and make disciples of all the nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Teach these new disciples to obey all the commands I have given you. And be sure of this: I am with you always, even to the end of the age.   Matthew 28:19-20

 

There is a problem with discipleship; a misstep in the way that we try to “do” it in the church today. Look at the way Jesus led his disciples and the way Paul discipled people and we see such amazing life transformation…and then there is discipleship today. It’s not the same.

 

Obviously I’m speaking in generalities and in no way am I saying it is an utter failure everywhere. But honestly, how often do we find discipleship to be a program the church offers, or an abstract thing the church talks about only to find little, real life transformation taking place in ourselves or those we are trying to disciple?

 

When did we become convinced that discipleship consisted primarily of a book to read or a structured study to complete?

 

I’m not saying these are bad things or that they cannot be a part of discipling someone, but is this all there is? Funny, Jesus never did it this way. Paul isn’t found making reference to the discipleship material he was implementing in the churches. So what are we missing?

 

I would say there are a couple of key things…probably more. But as I was reading the closing words of Galatians I was struck by one. And as I thought more about Jesus and then Paul I was struck by others. For today, the words of Paul to the church in Galatia will get us thinking:

 

And even those who advocate circumcision don’t keep the whole law themselves. They only want you to be circumcised so they can boast about it and claim you as their disciples.   Galatians 6:13

 

What’s Paul’s problem here? It’s not the practice of circumcision—although he has issues with why this is being stressed so heavily. Paul’s real issue: people wanting to claim other people as their disciples.

 

Jesus calls us to make disciples of him, not ourselves. On the surface I think the vast majority of Christians would totally agree and honestly believe this is what we are trying to do. But how often is this really the case? When discipling people there is this notion of needing to impart our wisdom to them. There is a real tendency to want to pass on our doctrinal leanings and preferences. In truth, many times disciples begin to look and talk more and more like their discipler, not more and more like Jesus.

 

As we follow the call of Jesus to go and make disciples I think one of our greatest challenges lies in perpetually turning the focus back to Jesus, not what we think about Jesus. Do you see the subtle difference? It’s not about my wisdom, my ideas, my journey. It’s supposed to be about our journey—all of us—towards Jesus.

 

We are called to teach them obedience to the commands of Jesus, not our particular preference on how those commands should be viewed. I’m not saying our particular preferences, ideas, understandings and leanings don’t come into it. And I’m not saying they aren’t important. But the minute a person is viewed as my disciple I have missed the mark and failed to follow the call of Christ. It’s why Paul is so adamant to the Corinthian church about the place of leaders and the place of Christ.

 

When one of you says, “I am a follower of Paul,” and another says, “I follow Apollos,” aren’t you acting just like people of the world? After all, who is Apollos? Who is Paul? We are only God’s servants through whom you believed the Good News.                  1 Corinthians 3:4-5

 

There is so much more on this swirling around in my mind, so there will be more to come—more thoughts and questions about discipleship. For today this is enough. Jesus calls us to make disciples and the struggle is to remember that we are making disciples of Jesus, not disciples of ourselves.

 

Who should you be discipling towards Christ? Who has God placed in your path to teach his commands and reveal what obedience looks like?