bloodlines

My church has become increasing committed to the gospel vision of a racially unified family of believers. Every now and then something will happen in my ministry or life (there is quite a bit of overlap between those two things, but they aren’t entirely one and the same) that reminds me how far we still have to go. Today has been such a day.

Providentially, I saw this video trailer for a book (or maybe it is a trailer for a longer video) that John Piper has written on race, the Cross, and the Christian. It is called Bloodlines and I can’t wait to read it. Not everyone loves Piper, and there are times when he misses it. But there are times when he is gloriously right. I expect this book to fall in the latter category.

(HT: JT)

The Gospel of Luke 5:1-39

Luke 5:1-39

Alright people, let’s get to this. These are going to have to come fast and furious, so please receive it in its rough form.

Back in Luke 4, Jesus had a power encounter with Satan in which Jesus made clear that his “vocation” was to be the chosen People Person of God – the Son of God – that Israel had failed to be. And now, it was time to get work on demonstrating what happens when the Kingdom of God breaks in around us.

While there are a number of remarkable things about the calling of Peter and the other early disciples, perhaps the most striking thing about the story isn’t the manner in which he calls them, but who he calls. Peter is a regular guy. He’s got a 9-5. The same is true for his co-workers. I am certain that Peter and the fellas woke that day with the expectation that it was going to be another normal day. As far as work was concerned, it was sort of a bust. No fish. None.

Then Jesus shows up. And not only do they end up taking in the largest haul any of them had every experienced, but Jesus invites them into his Kingdom work. Here was a guy who believed enough in them to say, “I want you to join me in turning the world upside down. You in?” And they were. They dropped everything and followed him. That is how it is in the Kingdom.

Next, he encounters a man with leprosy. And regardless of how traumatizing this man’s physical condition was, his legislated rejection from the community of God’s people would certainly have been more painful still. Excluded from Temple worship. Excluded from joining with his fellow Jews.

All that changes for him in an instant. Jesus comes to town, and despite the Law’s insistence that the “unclean” stay separate from the “clean,” the diseased man casts aside convention to throw himself at the feet of Jesus. And in that moment, Jesus extends his hand, makes physical contact with him… and he is healed. Inside and out.

News spreads rapidly, Jesus’ reputation and popularity are beginning to take off. And yet, Luke wants us to take note… Jesus often retreated to be alone and pray. In our contemporary church culture that places penultimate value on community and relationships (and in many ways, rightly so), Jesus makes clear that times of solitude are equally precious and meant to be sought out.

This dual healing seems to be the refrain throughout chapter 5. His next encounter is with a paralyzed man and his optimistic friends who literally drop him at Jesus’ feet. Jesus looks at the paralytic and addresses this man’s most obvious need. Surprisingly, it isn’t restoring his ability to walk. It is his inward brokenness. And Jesus speaks healing to him in a single word… “forgiven.”

But the healing doesn’t end there. Jesus attends to his secondary need as well. The external healing reflects what has happened in the dark and undisclosed recess of his heart. “Get up… go home.” Certainly, a straightforward enough command. But perhaps just below the surface one sees the broad sweeping invitation for all people to stand up and walk away from that thing which truly paralyzes and to return to our true home.

It won’t come as any surprise that he repeats the scene in a slightly different manner immediately after that. Now the malady isn’t so obviously a physical problem, but a social one. Jesus associates with people that no self-respecting Jew would ever sit at table with. But Jesus makes his intentions clear, “It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. 32 I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance.”

Jesus’ mission made plain, “I have come to heal.” In fact, if someone only had this chapter as a record of Jesus life and mission, one would come quickly to the conclusion that Jesus came to “heal” the whole person… inside and out.

Or maybe from the inside out. Being “healthy” is an obsession in American culture. I couldn’t begin to guess what kind of revenue the “health” industry generates. Health clubs, health food, psychic healers, health insurance, health care, etc… And I’m not just pointing the finger either. I’m pretty committed to a healthy lifestyle as well.

And yet with all our preoccupation with being healthy, so little attention is focused on the whole person being cured. So much so that when one begins to look inward, we get that all messed up too. If all we had was chapter 5, we would see that what a person most desperately needs is to be called by Jesus, touched by him, have a word spoken to by him, and to sit at his table. And that is what it looks like when God’s Kingdom comes “on earth as it is in heaven.”

a rope around my waist

Last Sunday, I had the privilege of leading the church in Communion. We don’t observe this ritual very often on Sunday mornings. Generally, it is something we do at our New Community service which happens once a month on a Wednesday evening.  However, this past Sunday was special in that we were finishing our summer-long teaching through the Gospel of Luke. In the final chapter, the eyes of the disciples are opened as Jesus re-enacts the Eucharistic meal, and so it seemed appropriate to end our with Luke in the same way he ends his account of Jesus’ earthly ministry.

I’ve been giving a lot of thought to the nature of the Lord’s Supper lately, and I am beginning to think that there is something of a deficiency in the way we “low-church” evangelicals view the sacred meal. Somewhere along the line (shortly after the Reformation), what Christians  believed about the elements started to change. There was a shift away from seeing the bread and cup as the actual body and blood of Jesus (as I believe it should have) to a belief that they are merely symbols to remind us of Jesus’ sacrifice. While I certainly think it is helpful for the elements to serve as reminders of Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection, I am convinced they are more than mere symbols. As the church increasing embraced the empirical methods of the Enlightenment, and perhaps felt the pressure to explain everything from a “scientific” point of view, we may have forfeited something significant in the way in which we engage the Lord’s Supper. It feels like some of the mystery and wonder of Christ manifesting his presence with us through the bread and cup is lost when we think of them as simply reminders.

Ok, I know you are getting bored. Naturally, lots could be (and has been) said about this particular topic, but I mainly want to go on record as saying that I think the Memorialist (symbolic) view doesn’t do justice to what is actually happening in this observance. Instead of keeping on with my half-baked ideas, I’ll leave you with some more of Ian Cron’s wonderful words from his memoir, Jesus, My Father, The CIA, and Me. I hope Mr. Cron doesn’t mind my reproducing at length one of his stories. May it prod you to obtain a copy of your own.

It wasn’t until I was within four or five kids of the bishop that I could really see his face. He was corpulent, his cheeks and jowls glazed with  perspiration, and he was slightly wheezing like Kip Merriweather, a kid in our class who had asthma. The bishop looked like he would have paid a hundred bucks to get out of the clericals, go home, put his tired feet up, pop open a Pabst Blue Ribbon, and watch a Notre Dame basketball game. As I stepped forward and stood before him, he saw the tears running down my face. For an instant, his pasty white face softened, his eyes sparkled just like the Virgin Mary’s, and the corners of his mouth turned upward in a smile of deep knowing. I suspect he knew that I was one of those strange kids who “got it” – who was hungry and thirsty for God, who longed to be full. Maybe he’d been one of those weird kids too. He placed the Host on my tongue and put his hand on the side of my face, his fat thumb briefly massaging my temple, a gesture of blessing I did not see him offer to any of my other classmates. And I fell into God.

I have spent forty years living the result of that moment.

I am told that, in years past, when a blizzard hit the Great Plains, farmers would sometimes tie one end of a rope to the back door of their farmhouse and the other around their waists as a precaution before going out to the barn to tend to the animals. They knew the stories of farmers who, on the way back to the house from the barn in a whiteout, had become disoriented and couldn’t find their way back home. They would wander off, and their half-frozen bodies wouldn’t be found until spring, when the snow melted.

That day, Bishop Dalrymple, sweat dripping from the end of his bulbous nose, tied a rope around my waist that was long and enduring. How did he know the number of times that I would drift onto the plains in a whiteout and need a way to find my way back home?

And all God’s people said…

A Wealth of Wisdom

Ok, I know that I should be getting back to my series of posts on Luke. I have things I would definitely like to say. However, I recently came a across some videos that I found helpful for all kinds of reasons. Three men (sadly, all white) that I have tons of respect for were in something of a round table discussion talking about things that I think are important. Their conversation is worth listening in on.

The men are…

Don Carson (one of my professors of NT at Trinity Evangelical Divinity School)

John Piper (influential pastor/scholar/author at Bethlehem Baptist Church in Minneapolis, MN)

Tim Kelller (like Piper, pastor/scholar/author at Redeemer Presbyterian Church in New York City, NY)

You likely won’t know this about these men, but they are cut from similar “Reformed” cloth. While I am a closet Calvinist, I’m not as committed to it as these guys. Which means that I don’t buy into every single thing these guys are selling (big surprise there). Yet by virtue of their decades of God-seeking experience alone, their wisdom should not be easily dismissed.

  • Watch this if you have ever wondered how senior leaders should transition their leadership roles to the next generation.
  • The next three are on the Bible and how one ought to engage it, respect it, and apply it.

  • This last video is about what has made their marriages (and mine) work. 

Enjoy.

The Gospel of Luke 4:1-44

Luke 4:1-44

I’ve recently written a few comments and spoken some on Luke 4, so I don’t feel the need to rehearse all that I’ve already said. But for the sake of clarity, let me say at least one thing again… Luke 4 is less about giving us instructions on how to deal with temptation, and way more about who this Jesus is.

One thing that I didn’t mention either in the message, nor very explicitly in the earlier post, is that Israel is sometimes spoken of as being God’s son (Hosea 11:1, Exodus 4:22, possibly Psalm 2:7). One might argue that connecting Jesus’ sonship to the sonship of Israel somehow lessens its force as it relates to our understanding of Jesus’ divinity. That is to say that when Israel was called “God’s son,” no one made the mistake of thinking Israel was divine. Why take the son language about Jesus to do so?

In response, I would argue that the connection between “Son of God” language used for Israel and Jesus doesn’t lessen our understanding of who Jesus is. Rather, it is enhanced. The remainder of the New Testament makes clear that Jesus’ is the Son of God in a way that no one ever has been or could be again. Jesus’ relationship with God the Father is unique. In fact, one can say fairly confidently that the point of Luke 4:1-13 is to say precisely that! Jesus is God’s son in a way that Israel never could be.

But Luke 4 probably isn’t speaking into the Jewish world only. As Luke’s gospel is taking shape, there are others in the Roman world that would make a rival claim to being the “son of God” and divinity. Various Roman emperors would refer to themselves in those terms, and require others to do the  same. So it may well be that Luke is simultaneously addressing the Jewish and pagan worldviews of his day.

In essence, the message Luke is putting across in these first few chapters is “Jesus is God’s one and only true son.”

The Gospel of Luke 3:1-38

Luke 3:1-38

We’ve switched back to John’s part of the story, and we find him in the Judean wilderness – the countryside around the Jordan River. This doesn’t just give us information about where he is, but also where he isn’t. This renewal movement isn’t happening in the religious and political (not easily separated) center of the nation, but away from it.

Furthermore, he is tapping into a long held hope of the Jewish people that God might manifest himself by returning to be with them and restore them. This preparation to which John is calling his country men and women is one of repentance and ritual cleansing. A few things in particular stand out about his call to repentance… 1) There is a sense of urgency about his proclamation. 2) John is issuing this call to his own people. They have failed at something and he is calling them to prepare themselves for the coming of the Lord. 3) The notion that not just the Jews will benefit when Yahweh comes to be with them, but “all nations” even if they need to raised up from “stones.”

And as the King returns, so also his kingdom. And in this kingdom, a new (old?) ethic of concern for their fellow man is the standard. Issues of charity, honesty, and integrity are promoted out of a desire to see “righteousness/justice” for all.

Luke’s record of Jesus’ baptism is the shortest in the gospels. Perhaps this is due to its being part of a larger narrative addressing the question of “Whose son is Jesus?” This is certainly the point of the genealogy that immediately follows. Matthew’s genealogy traces Jesus’ ancestry back to Abraham, presumably to highlight Jesus as the long awaited Jewish Messiah. Luke, on the other hand, follows his lineage all the way back to Adam and God. This way of following Jesus family tree is a dramatic way of bringing one to the conclusion affirmed in the last words of the chapter. Jesus is “the Son of God.” However, by taking Jesus ancestry back beyond Abraham, it seems likely that this is another way Luke is evoking the “This Jewish Messiah will be for all people” refrain.

The Gospel of Luke 2:1-52

Luke 2:1-52

It is difficult to come at Luke 2 with anything other than the serene picture many of us carry around of the “silent night” of the first Christmas Eve. And yet, this passage is replete with subversive undertones. It is this upsetting of expectations that provides the subtext of the entire chapter.

The census that Rome mandates isn’t the benign form we are familiar with in 21st century America. A census in the ancient world was taken to figure out what various subject regions “owed” the Empire. It was an intrusive reminder that they were a people oppressed by a foreign power. They weren’t free to determine their own steps.

And yet, little does Rome know that there is a Power far greater at work even in and through their attempts to exert imperial authority. God’s purposes and promises have been slowly and quietly unfolding over centuries. So as Caesar Augustus’ decree moves a small “insignificant” family to the father’s ancestral home of Nazareth, God’s promise of an eternal dynasty from the line of David is coming to fruition this small town. The question that lingers is “who is in control?”

The birth itself is rather unremarkable, “the time came for the baby to be born, and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger.” Even more unremarkable are those that welcome the savior into the world… shepherds. Not power brokers. Not religious elite. Not even respectable middle-class citizenry. Just common shepherds. The subversive question here is “who really matters?”

Even something as simple as presenting young Jesus at the Temple turns into a chance to see the Messiah with fresh eyes. The young family is greeted by two old faithful Jews, both of whom were eagerly looking forward to the one who would save Israel. And yet, the brief exchange between old and young records a cryptic prophecy concerning not just salvation for Israel but all people. Perhaps even more disconcerting would have been Simeon’s words about the “falling and rising of many in Israel” and the “sword that will pierce” Mary’s soul in some way. The question here would be “Is the mission of the Messiah really what we have thought it to be all along?”

The story of tween Jesus lost in Jerusalem for three days only to be found in discourse with the religious academics poignantly carries the subversion of expectations motif forward. When Mary finds him, she scolds him in the way that most any mother would, “Your father and I have been anxiously searching for you.” And yet, Jesus’ response is perhaps the beginning of the soul-piercing spoken of a few verses earlier, “Didn’t you know I had to be in my Father’s house?” While I don’t think this is an example of Jesus copping a pre-pubescent attitude, the question posed here (as well as the next couple chapters) is “Exactly whose son is this?”

The Gospel of Luke 1:26-80

Ok, now I know why people take years to write commentaries. Because that’s the sort of time it would take to give the attention to the Scriptures that they deserve.

I don’t have that sort of time. Not now, and not in the foreseeable future.

So in order to finish this project in a timely manner (end of summer), we’re going to need to move things along. At least for a while, I’ll be shooting for breadth and not depth.

Luke 1:26-80

The remainder of Luke 1 narrates the angel’s appearance to Mary, Mary’s visit with Elizabeth, Mary’s song, John’s birth, and Zechariah’s song (which will be followed by Jesus’ birth in chapter 2).

You may have noticed them already, but there are some obvious parallels going on with John’s and Jesus’ stories.

Like John’s conception, Jesus’ conception is miraculous, but to an even greater extent. In fact, in some ways, Mary/Jesus’ story is meant to be an intensification, a “one-upping” so to speak, of Zechariah/John’s story.

Mary’s response to the angelic visitation is one of belief and humble obedience, while it seems that Zechariah’s was one of disbelief and doubt.

Mary’s Song comes in advance of Jesus’ birth. While Zecharaiah’s is a response to John’s birth. Of course, you could make a pretty good argument that Zecharaiah couldn’t sing a song because he couldn’t speak at all. Nonetheless.

John’s birth is a fairly short narrative. Jesus’ will occupy all of chapter 2. None of this is meant to diminish who John was as a person, but is perhaps a technique that Luke is employing to highlight the even greater significance of who Jesus is. A point that John himself would make in chapter 3.

The reason I bring all of this up is to help us be continually reminded that Luke is indeed crafting a story. That doesn’t mean that these things didn’t happen. I certainly believe they did. It does mean that Luke isn’t “reporting” events in television reporter kind of way (although, truth be told, television reporters are telling a story, as well). Luke has a mind for sequencing, scene changes, emphasizing certain things, while ignoring others.

And it is a story that has been well thought through. It is a big story that tells the grand narrative of God at work throughout all history, and particularly the promises made to God’s people throughout the ages. However, against the backdrop of this big picture, we have individuals – “little people” – whose own dreams and hopes and actions matter. An old couple who may have longed for children all their lives are visited by God. A young couple of humble means fearful about what the future holds who are entrusted with carrying God’s Son.

God is moving his huge over-arching cosmic purposes forward. But that doesn’t mean that the details of our comparably small and insignificant lives are overlooked in the process. In God, everything matters. Global hunger and our next meal. Ecological meltdown and our very next breath. The witness of the Church universal and my next act of kindness.

And of course, the large and the small are inevitably intertwined.

God’s grand story and our small story? Equally so.

The Gospel of Luke 1:5-25

Most of my ideas on the front end seem like good ones, but in retrospect are often not so hot. I’m not sure how I’m going to get through Luke 4, much less Luke 24. So, here’s the deal, expect average content throughout… less than average for about a month… and then possibly slightly above average towards the end of the summer. Now, with expectations set fairly low, let’s forge ahead.

Luke 1:5-25

Two characters, Zechariah and Elizabeth, are introduced in such a way as to evoke “echoes” of some of the birth miracles of the Old Testament. Abram and Sarai, Jacob and Rachel, Samson to name a few. Aged and childless, they conducted their lives in such a way that they were called “righteous in the sight of God.” They are portrayed as ordinary Jewish people going about their lives. Ordinary people through whom God is going to doing an extraordinary thing. In some ways, this anticipates a recurring theme through Luke (and Acts, and the gospels, and the New Testament in general) that God uses regular people for his purposes. And since their story precedes Jesus’ own miraculous conception, it is a foreshadowing of sorts that God is on the move.

Verse 5 also makes mention of Herod. The Herod’s of the New Testament can be very confusing. This one is not the same one that is encountered later in the gospels. And that’s not the same one that is encountered in Acts. The Herod in verse 5 is the ancient equivalent of George Foreman. Everyone in the whole family is more or less named Herod.

Ok, we’re about done here, but a word about priests. Zechariah would have had normal priestly responsibilities in attending to temple worship. And as Providence would have it, while he is going about his daily priestly routine, he is chosen by lot to be the one who enters the holy place to offer incense. This isn’t to be confused with the Holy of Holies. That would be where the high priest alone could go and only once a year. Still even to be chosen to do what Zechariah was appointed to do that day would have been seen as a special honor.

Like I’ve said, I think the important question to ask is “What did Luke intend to communicate in this passage?” I also think the question, “What did God intend to communicate?” is an important one as well. It could be more than Luke had in mind, but certainly not less.

As best, I can tell Luke is really still setting the stage for what is to come. By highlighting God’s work on behalf of Zechariah and Elizabeth, I think the idea is that more and bigger is to come.

The Gospel of Luke 1:1-4

I’m not sure what the best way to approach this is going to be. Verse by verse exposition or taking larger sections and giving the overall force of the passage? I guess in a real commentary doing both is ideal. I think what I’ll do is make an attempt at summaries of sections with some comments about specific things in the text where I think helpful.

Ok, let’s dive in.

Luke 1:1-4

The overall intent of these verses is plain enough. Luke has taken up the task of writing his gospel after surveying what others have done (possibly including Mark and Matthew) and determining that there may be need for an “orderly account” of Jesus’ life, ministry, teaching, death, and resurrection. “Orderly account” doesn’t have to mean that his is more factually correct than other gospel accounts. Naturally, this taps into a much larger and complicated discussion of what is “correct.” In what sense does Christian biography (which the gospels seem to be a form of) need to be factually true in order to be “the truth.”

Luke does seem to have a tendency to include more information than the other gospels (it is the longest of the four). However, I tend to view the “orderly account” as being an explanation for how the Jesus movement went from a Jewish thing to a Jewish-plus-Gentile thing.

We also learn from these opening words (v.2) that Luke wasn’t an eyewitness of Jesus’ life and ministry. During his work with Paul (also not technically an eyewitness of Jesus’ earthly life), he likely had interactions with various early church leaders, and feasibly a fair number of Jesus’ original disciples. Whether he did or not, he affirms that he has “investigated” the traditions handed down by those earliest followers.

The letter is addressed to “Theophilus,” which could be an individual with that name. My own opinion is that Theophilus is any of us. And by that I mean any of us who would seek to be a “lover of God,” which is what the name itself means. Either way, Luke’s intent is clear. He wants to provide people with some sense of assurance about things they have been told about Jesus.

Dang. We are going to be moving pretty slow if I take this long to explain stuff. I’m going to need to keep this moving right along.