ransom for the empty

For you know that God paid a ransom to save you from the empty life you inherited from your ancestors. And the ransom he paid was not mere gold or silver. It was the precious blood of Christ, the sinless, spotless Lamb of God. God chose him as your ransom long before the world began, but he has now revealed him to you in these last days.      1 Peter 1:18-20

 

Ransom for my empty life—that’s what it comes down to.

 

My life without Jesus. Empty. My goals, my pursuits, my interests. Empty.

 

My hope, my ability to “help myself,” my satisfaction and purpose in life…all empty without the ransom. Without the blood.

 

How can it be that God would so overpay for such trinkets as us? We aren’t worth the cost. We aren’t worth the required payment of our debt. Sin required blood. My sin required blood. And the blood of goats and sheep and doves just wasn’t cutting it. The spotless Lamb of God, that’s the price.

 

And God pays?! God sends his Son for us?

 

Who pays for what’s empty and broken and worthless with the greatest of treasure?

 

Only the Father of perfect love. Only the Creator of those gone wayward. Only the One who can love rebel sinners too easily swayed by the lesser and the momentary and the created.

 

Who does this? Only God our Father who decided and planned and set it all in place before he even began to create us. It’s difficult to get my mind around this kind of love and depth of commitment. He chose to create us knowing the cost of saving us. It boggles the mind of this little sinner who seems to know nothing of true love for another.

 

I pray that by this grace given I will learn. For I know that God paid a ransom to save me from my empty life. There is no more outrageous or better news to be found.

 

The King’s ransom for my empty life.

 

expectation

All praise to God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. It is by his great mercy that we have been born again, because God raised Jesus Christ from the dead. Now we live with great expectation, and we have a priceless inheritance—an inheritance that is kept in heaven for you, pure and undefiled, beyond the reach of change and decay. And through your faith, God is protecting you by his power until you receive this salvation, which is ready to be revealed on the last day for all to see.                           1 Peter 1:3-5

 

 

Great expectation. Is that how I live? Is that the way I started this day?

 

No. I started this day with a grumble of being too tired. I started with a sense of the mundane. It is, after all, just a Tuesday. And what really happens of any significance on a Tuesday? Maybe great things in the lives of others, but for me, it’s often just a Tuesday.

 

But God has shown great mercy. God has given re-birth. I was dead, now I’m alive. Priceless inheritance beyond the reach of decay and it’s mine! It’s waiting for me! God is protecting me by his power. How could this day be thought of as mundane? How could it be boring? How could I not live in great expectation?

 

Because I forget. Because I know and yet I don’t remember. Because I am too easily satisfied and settle for today being just a Tuesday. Because something within me lies and tells me I’m just being mature—there’s no need to get all giddy with excitement over what God’s done, he knows I’m grateful. There’s no sense in expecting too much from another ordinary day, I’ll just end it with disappointment. It’s too hard to learn how to have the right kind of expectations—the lasting ones that don’t center around my appetites for the momentary. It’s too much work to set myself aside and consider the Savior who gives this great expectation to the day.

 

And that’s just it. I’ve forgotten to look beyond myself. I’ve forgotten to behold the one who takes away my sin and sets my feet on the path to life and freedom. John the Baptist calls out to those who encounter Christ and the call is simple: Behold him.

 

Behold, the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world!   John 1:29

 

A lot of translations just say “Look” and that’s fine, but the word behold I think better captures the sense of the call. It’s not a casual glance, it’s not just seeing him when someone says, “Hey look at him.” It’s continuous looking and perceiving and receiving who he is: the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world. It’s being changed by the reality of who he is and what he’s done.

 

Behold him. Not just at the moment I prayed a prayer and asked for forgiveness. Not just on Sundays and maybe if I read the Bible a few times during the week. Behold him—Jesus. Behold him today and every day. Behold him when I rise in the morning and during the drive into work. Behold him at my lunch hour and during that difficult conversation with a critic. Behold him when I sit around the table with my family, deal with obstinate children or tuck them into bed and see them sleep so peacefully. Behold him when I laugh with my wife, disagree with a friend or lay myself down to rest. Behold the Lamb. See him, consider him, rejoice for he has given himself to take away our sin.

 

How can I not live in great expectation when I am beholding the one who is God’s Lamb? The one who is my salvation? The one who established this inheritance beyond the reach of decay and set me under the protecting power of God? How can I not live in great expectation when I know that I am still waiting for that last day, that final revelation of all the Lamb has accomplished. How can I not live this way knowing today could be the day? Or is it tomorrow? Or the next day?

 

All of life should be seen and lived  as on the precipice of greatness beyond imagination because I live it reborn into the forgiveness of the Lamb. Do I not see him? Am I not beholding him? If I were, surely my life would show it. Surely I would spill over with expectation and gratefulness.

 

Behold Jesus, the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world.

 

why do you keep calling me that?

“So why do you keep calling me ‘Lord, Lord!’ when you don’t do what I say? I will show you what it’s like when someone comes to me, listens to my teaching, and then follows it. It is like a person building a house who digs deep and lays the foundation on solid rock. When the floodwaters rise and break against that house, it stands firm because it is well built. But anyone who hears and doesn’t obey is like a person who builds a house without a foundation. When the floods sweep down against that house, it will collapse into a heap of ruins.”    Luke 6:46-49

 

I am continually drawn back by Scripture to this concept of surrendering to Jesus as Lord. I tend to think the church at large has, in recent years, done a poor job of calling us to this kind of submission to Christ. Maybe it’s been our desire to embrace Jesus as our friend and brother—which he is. Or maybe it’s been our obsession with being “seeker sensitive” (even though Jesus himself never seemed overly concerned with this). Whatever the reason, the church has displayed deep interest in Jesus as our Savior, but not much enthusiasm for Jesus as our Lord.

 

And I think it shows.

 

The church today is riddled with the undisciplined and uncommitted. Wow, there’s a statement that’s sounds highly judgmental and is bound to convince you that there are a thousand other things you would rather do with the time it takes to finish reading this! But I think if you really consider what I’m saying, you’ll see truth in it.

 

Jesus’ issue in Luke 6:46-49 is that people are using the language, but their lives just don’t line up with their rhetoric.

 

So why do you keep calling me ‘Lord, Lord!’ when you don’t do what I say?

 

Ouch. Could he hit any closer to home? Probably not for me.

 

It’s true. We want to speak the language, call on Jesus name, express our trust in him as Lord. But our lives typically look more like an exercise in convenience and doing what we want—within constrained bounds, of course. We want to look the part; we just don’t often surrender to the part. Jesus being Lord means I am the slave and that’s just not our idea of a good time.

 

I wonder if part of the problem is that we’ve traded hearing the gospel and repenting for hearing the gospel and accepting. What I mean is, maybe we have confused what it means to follow Christ well and faithfully. We hear the gospel and accept that it’s truth, receiving Christ as our Savior, but stop short of truly repenting of our behavior that runs contrary to Jesus. Repenting is a lifelong process as God keeps revealing more in us that is contrary and keeps calling us to turn towards him and away from our own self-worship.

 

It may be that I’m simply being too cynical, but as I read these words of Jesus I wonder. The issue Jesus is encountering is that people are listening to the gospel, but not responding to it with obedience. Encountering Jesus as our Lord is so much more than just accepting that he is the Son of God and believing he died on the cross. Don’t get me wrong—that’s where we start. That’s critical. We have to accept Christ, his death and resurrection. But Jesus is looking for a lifestyle of obedience here. A lifelong journey that begins at acceptance and continues with ongoing surrender and submission.

 

He describes our lives as being like the building of a house on a foundation. Obedience is like the work of digging down deep, starting on the rock foundation that is below the surface. Maybe this is what I’m getting at. It’s so easy to be superficial followers of Christ, letting our faith rest on the surface, but not digging deep and finding what’s beneath all the surface junk. Making certain my faith isn’t built on convenience or cultural norms or false idols.

 

I guess today I am hearing the question of Jesus and wanting desperately to ensure that he’s not directing it at me. If he is, I want to repent, and call him Lord not just with words, but with my whole life. I want it to be clear—I’m calling him Lord, because I’m living as his servant.

 

desert of glory

Then Jesus, full of the Holy Spirit, returned from the Jordan River. He was led by the Spirit in the wilderness, where he was tempted by the devil for forty days. Jesus ate nothing all that time and became very hungry.        Luke 4:1-2

 

Whenever I read about the temptation of Jesus I am always led back to the same thought…

 

Jesus was led by the Spirit into the wilderness where he was tempted.

 

God led his Son into the desert wilderness where he would be tempted. Something about that flies in the face of what I want to be true. Something about that is contrary to the ways I want to think about God interacting with us. It doesn’t feel helpful. It doesn’t feel like what God’s “job” should be.

 

In thinking this I reveal some very sinful things about myself. Namely that I tend to think about my relationship with the Father as if it’s all about me, rather than being all about him. I like to think of the give and take being about bringing me help and ease rather than it being about bringing him glory.

 

I have things turned around.

 

This is why, when temptations come—or hardships—I can so easily slip into the “woe is me” mentality. I can start to feel sorry for myself because I have let myself believe that this isn’t how it’s supposed to be. But is that right?

 

Granted, in the larger scheme of things this isn’t how it’s supposed to be. Sin, temptation, brokenness and hardship—these aren’t the things God created us for when he first breathed creation into existence. But we brought these things into the world and are continually perpetuating them. We are sinners who wander from the narrow path, wallow in our own filthy sin, and then wonder why God would let us get so dirty.

 

God, on the other hand, while not creating us to live in sin and brokenness, did create us to bring him glory. And now that we find ourselves in the bed we’ve made, with all the sin and pain and brokenness of the world, God’s point has not changed. We’re still here to bring him glory. And sometimes that means leading us to places where our faith will be tested. Sometimes that means putting us in positions where we must make a painful choice.

 

How important will honoring God be when the path to giving him glory is personally painful and potentially hazardous to our own wants?

 

My mind automatically goes to the call of Abraham to sacrifice his Son Isaac. This is such a beautiful picture of the father sacrificing son for the glory of God. A very powerful telling of the truth of God our Father’s own plan and willingness to sacrifice all to bring us to his glory. But it is also the telling of a specific man’s struggle to be led down the path of the dark valley so that he may see the light that is found on the other side. It is a testimony to trusting God rather than self and being willing to surrender to anything our Father may call us to.

 

God will sometimes lead us to paths we would never choose for ourselves. And we must choose to follow or to rebel. The key, I think, is that we must choose before we get to that fork in the road—before the choice is before us. Can we accept that God is calling us to live lives that glorify him without regard for our own personal protection and pleasure?

 

I want to say yes! I want to shout it and believe it and live it…but I know myself. I know my own tendencies and my insatiable selfishness. I know that I can’t follow well on my own. Only by the grace and power of Christ can I be who I want to be—who I was created to be. Only by surrendering in the now will I ever be prepared then to follow on when the path is dark and the choices unwanted. Only by taking seriously the practice of following the Spirit when life is less threatening will I ever choose to follow into the desert when the Spirit leads to places I don’t want to go.

 

It was by faith that Abraham offered Isaac as a sacrifice when God was testing him. Abraham, who had received God’s promises, was ready to sacrifice his only son, Isaac, even though God had told him, “Isaac is the son through whom your descendants will be counted.” Abraham reasoned that if Isaac died, God was able to bring him back to life again. And in a sense, Abraham did receive his son back from the dead.              Hebrews 11:17-19

 

To trust God in the darkness and pain is far more glorifying to him than to glad hand him in the ease of getting what I want.

 

Father, may I learn to follow well and surrender sincerely today. I know the desert times will come and the leading of the Spirit will not always be on easy roads that head in the general directions I have in mind. If not for your grace I will never make it; and only by your grace will the glory be truly yours. May your grace ever lead me to places of unending glory for you. May I learn to be about you rather than for me.

 

the gift of glory

As soon as Judas left the room, Jesus said, “The time has come for the Son of Man to enter into his glory, and God will be glorified because of him. And since God receives glory because of the Son, he will soon give glory to the Son.”                    John 13:31-32

 

I have been rolling these words around in my head this morning. I read them quite by accident on my way somewhere else to read something else. But they have lodged themselves in my mind and captured my thoughts.

 

For one thing, it’s captivating simply because it is speaking of the glory of God. There is something about this notion of God’s glory that is—quite obviously—awe inspiring. I suppose that’s why it’s called glory.

 

But here we find the idea of God’s glory changing hands, so to speak, between Father and Son. Now of course, Father is Son and Son is Father, for both are one God with the Spirit. But still there is something beautiful and compelling about the Father receiving glory from the Son and so reciprocating by giving glory to the Son. It feels very much like there is something I don’t quite comprehend going on here; something powerful and amazing in the way God is glorifying and honoring himself through service and sacrifice to himself.

 

I am struck by the realization that glory comes to the Father as the Son submits and gives himself up for the world. It isn’t that God has no glory a part from the death of Christ, but more that somehow, through Jesus’ death and love-sacrifice more glory is being brought to the Father. And in reciprocating fashion, the Father then gives glory to the Son because of his submission and sacrifice.

 

This is the way God’s wisdom. Glory isn’t achieved through oppression of the weaker or with conquering power. Glory comes through submission to the Father. Glory comes through sacrifice and love.

 

Again, a few chapters later in John’s gospel we find Jesus praying. And again the glory is given and received. Again through submission and obedience.

 

I brought glory to you here on earth by completing the work you gave me to do. Now, Father, bring me into the glory we shared before the world began.          John 17:4-5

 

I think this is why in Romans 8, when Paul speaks of how we will be heirs of God’s glory, he also ties that glory to suffering.

 

And since we are his children, we are his heirs. In fact, together with Christ we are heirs of God’s glory. But if we are to share his glory, we must also share his suffering.          Romans 8:17

 

It isn’t that God enjoys suffering, or that he wants us to “earn” it. We can’t earn it and God is abundantly clear about that all through the Bible. But I think we see in the interaction between Father and Son that glory comes to the Father by submission and obedience, and that when obedience is given to him—which brings him glory—he in turn gives glory. As he did for his Son, so he will—to a lesser degree—to us his children.

 

Glory comes to the Father by way of our surrender and obedience. Surrender to Christ and obedience to his ways. As glory goes to the Father through our submission to Christ he in turns makes us heirs and children. Heirs and children who share in his glory.

 

under Christ

Few souls understand what God would accomplish in them if they were to abandon themselves unreservedly to Him and if they were to allow His grace to mold them accordingly.                                                              – Ignatius

 

I’m finding it more and more in my own conversations lately—this desperate need we have to learn surrender and submission. Why is it that as followers of Christ when we think of following we tend to forget this aspect of it? We are so consistent at calling others (and ourselves) to Jesus as Savior, but often not as passionate about seeking him as Lord. I wonder if we don’t always understand what this means practically in our lives. Maybe it’s just me. Even the language I’m using here betrays my tendency to misunderstand it. “Learn surrender and submission.” As if this is something I do or gain. Surrender is completely opposite to the idea of me gaining or grasping something. It’s about letting go. It’s about giving up. Not giving up in the sense of quitting, but more of a giving over; giving everything to someone.

 

Even as I’m writing this I’m thinking that I should choose a different topic. After all, those who read this will likely just nod their head in agreement, read the rest of the article, and then move on. That’s what I would probably do. It’s not that we don’t know we need to live in submission to Christ, it’s that our hearts are too easily unmoved by this call to surrender. Jesus gives such radical calls to submission and this idea of surrendering that it can feel paralyzing to even consider how this is lived out. It’s tempting to not really deal with what lies at the heart of our own surrendered life—or lack thereof.

 

So therefore, any one of you who does not renounce all that he has cannot be my disciple.          Luke 14:33

 

This sounds so harsh that we can almost convince ourselves that we need not go this far. Renouncing feels so extreme and final and unnecessary, but to renounce simply means to refuse to follow, obey or recognize any further. And this is exactly what we must do. Christians who show up on Sundays to worship and listen and then live the rest of their week on their own terms are a dime a dozen. Christians who use the right language, attend the right service projects, and give some money are nothing special. They are everywhere and they aren’t compelling. They aren’t living lives that implore people to be reconciled to God.

 

On the other hand, a God who changes hearts and tears us apart to rebuild us in wholeness and holiness is a compelling God. But I find that we easily settle for much less. In truth, our broken hearts want much less. Or so we think. Renouncing all is harsh it is extreme. It’s also the only way we are called to follow.

 

Ignatius speaks of abandoning ourselves without reserve. Holding nothing back. This is the kind of person Jesus calls us to be. We must renounce everything else. The gospel of Jesus Christ isn’t just about getting us into heaven. It’s about getting us under Christ; living as his slave. And it’s so contrary to human wisdom, that even though we know the truth we fight against it. Even when we decide we want it we struggle against our sinful natures every day.

 

I think Ignatius is on to something—few of us understand what God could accomplish in us if we abandoned unreservedly. This way of living feels reckless and irresponsible by the world’s standards and it is…by the world’s standards. The idea of looking out for number one and self-preservation are instinctual and society only reinforces these concepts. Our own sinfulness craves this kind of control.

 

At the end of the day the real tension is in being called to something we cannot achieve—at least not on our own. We simply like position and power and our own desires too much. So we are left really with only one option: we need to confess. We need to admit our tendencies to be self-reliant, self-interested, and self-promotional. We need to confess that surrendering to Christ is beyond us. We need to wait on the grace of Christ to do the work in us. We need mercy. We need heart change.

 

Whoever conceals his transgressions will not prosper, but he who confesses and forsakes them will obtain mercy.            Proverbs 28:13

 

Jesus is a ferocious lover of souls. He tears us and devours us so as to mend us. He breaks us in order to heal rightly that which was twisted and bent. And this is the only way to living as a surrender people under Christ: to be torn apart so that he can pull out the places where we continue to fight to be our own person. Where we struggle to accept that our agenda, our wants, our perceptions of what should be just aren’t that important. The true mercy of Jesus comes in his ruthlessness towards our sin and his willingness to simply crush us for his glory and our good.

 

This submission to Christ is far more than just a seeking for humility; this is a complete dismissal of self in favor of Christ living in me. And it’s beyond us. So we must confess. And pray. And then follow wherever he may take us.

 

Let this be thy whole endeavor, this thy prayer, this thy desire,–that thou mayest be stripped of all selfishness, and with entire simplicity follow Jesus only.                                                                                                          – Thomas a Kempis

 

when I see the blood

 

When I see the blood, I will pass over you.             Exodus12:13

 

It’s curious to me how clean and tidy we have tried to make our Christianity here in the United States. It’s happening elsewhere too, but not everywhere. What I mean is that we have this desire to make our faith attractive (as if being forgiven of everything you’ve ever done, being offered this for free, love and acceptance and all the rest isn’t attractive enough!). Somehow the church has bought into the idea that we are selling something instead of living something.

 

Many churches these days shun from using language about sin, our need for God, or holiness. Not too long ago, as we visited several different churches we were astounded at how many hesitated to use the Bible much or talk directly and candidly about Jesus. The culture of church seems to have committed to looking as much like a country club as possible. We wouldn’t want anyone to feel uncomfortable.

 

I’m thinking of this today, not just because I felt like ranting on the church. I love the church. It’s why this reality pains me so much. But I started thinking about this because of reading about the Passover in Exodus 12. It is messy and there are lots if lose ends that appear and lots of justice questions that might arise and lots of blood. In short there are lots of things that might make the Christians today very uncomfortable.

 

Is it right for God to kill innocent first-borns because their parents refuse to follow God’s direction? Is it just to have families suffer these great losses who may have known nothing of the conversations between Pharaoh and Moses? Why all the blood? Couldn’t God just know who the Israelites were and who the Egyptians were?

 

Like I said, it’s very messy. But as I read it I was struck by how necessary it was. How important. Isn’t it ironic that we are comfortable with saying God would stop at nothing to bring us to him so long as that nothing just means him sacrificing his own divine son? As soon as we suspect that some person on earth, some sinful person, may have suffered a tragedy in order to bring all of humanity face to face with Jesus we find it awkward and possibly unjust?

 

These are the Israelites who are the people out of whom the Son of God will be born into the world in order to bring all of humanity the offer of salvation. And God will stop at nothing to make sure they are freed to become that people. So that Christ may come. This is a messy reality, but it is also a loving reality.

 

And the blood. Why are they spreading blood on their door frames? Why must each family kill an animal? Because even free gifts aren’t free. Sure, this Passover, this rescue is free to the Israelites, but it did cost. Many Egyptians families that night knew very well the cost. The same is true with us. Forgiveness is free and salvation, eternity, relationship with the Father—it’s all free for us. But it cost God dearly. It’s important to know this. To see this. To be reminded of this. So the Israelites kill an animal and wipe its blood on their doorframes. And they were expected to remember this always. To keep it before them as a reminder of the bloody cost of redemption.

 

This is a day to remember. Each year, from generation to generation, you must celebrate it as a special festival to the Lord .   Exodus 12:14

 

For us today, we should keep sight of the blood too. The blood of Christ. We as his followers should talk about it, remember it, embrace its messy truth. Without the blood and injustice of Jesus’ sacrifice we have nothing.

 

But now you have been united with Christ Jesus. Once you were far away from God, but now you have been brought near to him through the blood of Christ. Ephesians 2:13

 

Instead of attempting to clean things up and make our faith more palatable to the world, we should embrace it in all its messy truth. Embrace it in all its reckless love that will stop at nothing to draw us to God and his life.

 

Today our church celebrates baptisms which will be an awesome experience and celebration for us. Certainly we’ll be singing some celebratory songs. Kool & the Gang’s Celebration anyone? But I would be surprised if we weren’t also singing something like Only Your Blood simply because, like it or not, this is about blood. And we should embrace it.

 

pieces

 

Every morning
you’ll hear me at it again.
Every morning
I lay out the pieces of my life
on your altar
and watch for fire to descend.   

 

Psalm 5:3 (MSG)

 

I will lay out the pieces of my life.

 

It’s odd how willing I am to do this when I am desperate; when I’m in need. I rush to this end, giving him all the pieces, all the broken mess. I need him and I’m okay with it. But when times are better, or at least easier; when I don’t have pressing needs that feel overwhelming…I’m less inclined. I like to hold some pieces back. I prefer to pick and choose. “You can have this piece and this piece. Perhaps you can fix those today.” As if God will fix anything before he has everything.

 

But this says every morning. Every morning I lay out the pieces of my life. Every morning I meet with God. Every morning I give it all back…again. That’s the invitation. That’s what it looks like to live in Life and wholeness.

 

And I like the imagery given by The Message. Most other translations say something about waiting with expectancy or expectantly. But The Message says, “and watch for fire to descend.” It’s essentially saying the same thing except that it brings some context to mind for those who are familiar with God’s interactions with people throughout the Old Testament. It can bring to mind times when sacrifices have been laid on the altar and a waiting for God to come has been practiced.

 

It brings to mind Genesis 15, where God stoops down and makes a covenant with Abraham—then just Abram. Abram cut the sacrifice to pieces, laid it out, and waited for God to come. And God did come, and he made an agreement—started a relationship—not just with Abram, but with his descendants; and ultimately with all of us.

 

It brings to mind 1 Kings 18, where Elijah lays out the sacrifice on the altar, and drenches it with water, and then waits. He invites God to show that he is God and he just waits.  And it says that the fire of the Lord fell on the sacrifice and consumed it all. And the people cried out, “The Lord—he is God!”

 

So the imagery of the Psalm is to lay out the pieces of our lives; they are a sacrifice. And to do so with expectancy; God will come. And the words that are key—at least for me today—are the words every morning. The pieces of our lives have a bad habit of crawling off the altar. And so again this morning—every morning—I lay out the pieces of my life. And I wait. Not for the miraculous or spectacular, but just for the coming, the descending of God.

 

On second thought, the fact that God will come—that he will descend to the pieces of my life—is pretty miraculous and spectacular.

 

the cost of free

It’s an odd thing to call salvation free. I mean, on the one hand, it is free. Totally free. Grace comes to us without requiring payment and without regard for our history. It is simply ours if we want it; if we will accept it from Jesus. But it’s the most costly free we will ever encounter.

 

Suppose one of you wants to build a tower. Will he not first sit down and estimate the cost to see if he has enough money to complete it? For if he lays the foundation and is not able to finish it, everyone who sees it will ridicule him, saying, ‘This fellow began to build and was not able to finish.’ Or suppose a king is about to go to war against another king. Will he not first sit down and consider whether he is able with ten thousand men to oppose the one coming against him with twenty thousand? If he is not able, he will send a delegation while the other is still a long way off and will ask for terms of peace. In the same way, any of you who does not give up everything he has cannot be my disciple.          Luke 14:28-33

 

In truth, it’s not the salvation that’s costly. As I said, that’s free. Grace is grace because it’s free. But it’s the life that comes after accepting, the life of following, that comes at a cost. And it costs us everything.

 

But maybe this is misleading too. It’s not a cost in the sense of paying for something. What we have from Jesus—the Life abundant he describes—remains forever free. But the life of following this Jesus, the life of relationship has a “cost” and that cost is everything. The word I’m looking for here is one none of us likes. It’s a word we avoid and when we say it we usually think of other people and how it relates to them. It’s easier than thinking of it in terms of our selves.

 

Surrender.

 

That’s the word. And in a sense, surrender is all about cost. It’s all about giving up and handing over. It’s about submitting and relinquishing control. And we just don’t like this kind of thing. But Jesus wants us to know up front: grace is free, but living with Jesus will cost us everything. That goes back to the reality that he must be first. And so he lays it out here, talking about the cost and making sure we take the time to consider it and commit to it.

 

For the second time in just a few sentences Jesus uses the words. “…cannot be my disciple.” He used it in verse 17, which we looked at yesterday, and he uses it here in verse 33.

 

“In the same way, any of you who does not give up everything he has cannot be my disciple.”

 

He’s not saying we aren’t allowed to own possessions, and he’s not saying that when we accept the saving Jesus offers we should become homeless. This isn’t about possessions really. It’s about us and our heart and our priorities. Again it’s about surrender. It’s about giving up control of our stuff. Letting God take priority over everything else.

 

The difficult thing about this is that it’s easy to say we give up everything when we still hold it in our hands. It’s hard to hold on loosely and fight the tendency to grip our stuff firmly. We grow attached, we find security, and we even tend to place our identity in our stuff. And Jesus is saying, “If you want to follow me you can’t do that. You have to hold it with an open hand. You have to let me be in control of it. You have to give it up.”

 

Today I’m thinking about the stuff I have, the roles I fulfill, the people I spend my time with. I’m considering the ways in which I let that stuff define me. I’m considering the ways in which I let that stuff consume me. And I’m praying for the courage to give it up and follow.

 

leading the way

They were on their way up to Jerusalem, with Jesus leading the way, and the disciples were astonished, while those who followed were afraid. Again he took the Twelve aside and told them what was going to happen to him. “We are going up to Jerusalem,” he said, “and the Son of Man will be delivered over to the chief priests and the teachers of the law. They will condemn him to death and will hand him over to the Gentiles, who will mock him and spit on him, flog him and kill him. Three days later he will rise.”             Mark 10:32-34

 

Just before the Triumphal entry we find Jesus heading up to Jerusalem and already he is leading the way for his people. The disciples are astonished; the followers afraid. Why go to Jerusalem and all the dangers that wait in that city of religion now dead?! But that is exactly where Jesus is headed.

Jesus is leading the way. Not just to a city that holds potential dangers. He is leading the way in obedience. Leading the way in trust to the Father. Leading the way to Life. And just so no one misses the reality of where they are going Jesus makes it clear. He knows what waits for him.

He will be arrested. Condemned. Handed over. Mocked, spit on, flogged. And killed.

He also knows what waits for us. The last statement in his explanation is the greatest news we could ever be given. “Three days later he will rise.” Jesus is leading the way to life again. Life like it hasn’t been known since fruit was eaten in secret and nakedness discovered. Life like hasn’t been enjoyed since hiding became the response to a God coming near. Life like only two humans before ever knew. Life back from the dead. Life back from the beginning.

 

And Jesus is leading the way. He is bringing his people to this Life as he brings himself to the cross.

The one who enters by the gate is the shepherd of the sheep. The gatekeeper opens the gate for him, and the sheep listen to his voice. He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out.   John 10:2-3

 

 

The cross is coming. This is Tuesday—it will be here Friday with all its death and defeat and oppression. And Jesus leads the way, willingly, for us.

 

And three days later he will rise.