I just saw a t-shirt. “It gets better,” and inside me something connected, it resonated. If there is something like spiritual mirth and laughter, I could barely contain myself. I wanted to shout and dance, but being an old man I knew I had to take extra Advil if I did. (Besides I was in Safeway.)
“For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us.”
Romans 8:18
The last 20 years are something I’d rather forget and erase. It seems I’ve been hit with just about everything awful you can imagine. After each incident I find myself thinking, “finally, it’s done,” but no, it’s not really done, there’s more coming. I’m smiling as I write these words. “But no, it’s not.” Ha!
Being slammed over and over has created within me a special longing for my real home. When I ponder the eternity of heaven the knots of this life begin to unravel, and I see life as it really is. You see present day life is quite temporary, and these many issues will be forgotten.
The Apostle is remarkably clear about this.
“Neither count my life dear unto myself, so that I might finish my course with joy,” is Paul’s take on his life’s issues. To finally complete all of the moments–and do it with joy, is his goal. Crossing the tape triumphantly is the hope of the staggering believer. And it is mine.
My pain is just for a simple singular moment, but eternity is time on steroids.
It is forever and ever and ever and ever.
On my end, the exchange I make is hardly perfect. I turn in my “sawdust” and get gold in return, and who can turn this trade down? My ugliness becomes eternal beauty and who can resist such a deal? These terrible things that hurt me so badly carry an everlasting weight of glory.
Brother, please believe this. Yes, I know, it hurts.
The Greek word “worthy” in verse 18 can be translated “having weight” which suggests a heaviness or burden that must be carried. But even so, it’s temporary. It enters but passes, even though at the moment it seems forever. You carry it for a moment–but that is all. and it’s done.
“And He said to them, “Which of you shall have a friend, and go to him at midnight and say to him, ‘Friend, lend me three loaves; for a friend of mine has come to me on his journey, and I have nothing to set before him’; and he will answer from within and say, ‘Do not trouble me; the door is now shut, and my children are with me in bed; I cannot rise and give to you’?
I say to you, though he will not rise and give to him because he is his friend, yet because of his persistence he will rise and give him as many as he needs.”
Luke 11:5-8
This parable is known by some as “the Importunate Neighbor.” That’s an excellent description. Importunate is defined as being persistent, especially to the point of annoyance or intrusion. It’s tenacious and stubborn–not giving up even when being ignored, and that describes what’s happening here.
What immediately proceeds this parable is Luke’s version of the Lord’s prayer, which the disciples requested. They wanted to understand the methods and mechanics of praying–perhaps the Pharisee’s prayers weren’t quite up to snuff–they wanted more; and they insisted that Jesus instruct them.
The disciples wanted to do prayer right.
A typical Jewish home had sleeping quarters (one room!) located on a raised platform. A ladder was used to access that level (which could be crowded, sometimes two to a bed.) Often their livestock were brought inside. And when it was time to get up, everyone got up. That explains the homeowner’s reluctance to give bread to his neighbor. To get up, light a lamp, wasn’t a solitary affair.
He’s obviously unenthusiastic to make that effort.
The word used here to explain the neighbor actions is ἀναίδεια “anaídeia,” which is only used once–it’s translated as impudence, shamelessness, audacity or chutzpah. It’s a Greek word that explains the knocker’s rudeness. He won’t stop. He knocks and pounds until he gets his bread. Not having bread for his guests is unheard of, for it violates all kinds of convention.
The unwritten law of Jewish hospitality demanded action.
This is part of Jesus’ view on prayer. It means we must be inappropriate sometimes–even to the point were we are being rude.
Immediately following this parable (the very next thought) are the following instructions:
“So I say to you, ask, and it will be given to you. Seek, and you will find. Knock, and the door will be opened to you. 10 For everyone who asks receives, and the one who seeks finds, and to the one who knocks, the door will be opened.”
Luke 11:9-10
Perhaps it’s this intensity that’s lacking.
We “pray” but don’t insist. We desire but don’t demand. Maybe it takes a certain shamelessness to make prayer work. Jesus emphasizes a necessary attitude to praying God’s way. It’s never automatic, but in this parable we see words that move the Father’s heart, and loosen his hand. In Jesus’ teaching, prayer means effort.
It means spiritual work. He wants us to know this. It is important.
“There is neither encouragement nor room in Bible religion for feeble desires, listless efforts, lazy attitudes; all must be strenuous, urgent, ardent. Flamed desires, impassioned, unwearied insistence delight heaven. God would have His children incorrigibly in earnest and persistently bold in their efforts. Our whole being must be in our praying.”
I confess that peace has never been really high on my list. Love, joy, kindness, and even goodness are clear priorities. Peace… not so much. Until I find out it’s not there. And then I get frantic by its absence and scrambling look for it with bewilderment.
Sometimes I don’t understand why God still loves me. At times like this anxiety eats at me. I beat myself up by my last failure. The guilt of my latest sin grows until it looms larger than the blood that saved me. Sometimes I suppose, religious people seem to have the most neurosis.
I’m afraid that we are taking the ‘present tense’ out of the Gospel.
The past tense is preferable to us as we find it easier to ‘manage’ our Christian life. We like to make check marks on our list. [Church attendance– check. Baptism– check. Bible study– check.] I think it gives me a definite feeling of ‘maturity.’
But these things matter little without intimacy with Jesus Christ.
I certainly haven’t arrived, and it seems at times I’m still the hideous sinner I always was. I cannot pretend otherwise, even with a spiritual truckload of cosmetics at my disposal. I know, I’ve tried. And I’m still ‘ugly.’ I do know forgiveness, and I do walk in its wonderful light (by grace).
I read Luther 30 years ago. (And Bonhoeffer would say something similar.)
“When our Lord and Master Jesus Christ said, ‘Repent,’ he willed the entire life of believers to be one of repentance.”
Martin Luther
This is the first of his 95 Theses nailed to the door of the Castle Church in Wittenberg, Germany. And there is a present tense here we can’t ignore about these declarations. I don’t just repent over smoking, beer drinking, fornication, or hypocrisy, once and done. But my entire way of living is to be one of repenting. To repent everyday opens the door to a true grace-filled discipleship.
“All of the Christian life is repentance. Turning from sin and trusting in the good news that Jesus saves sinners aren’t merely a one-time inaugural experience but the daily substance of Christianity. The gospel is for every day and every moment. Repentance is to be the Christian’s continual posture.”
John Piper
Luther’s last words, on his deathbed, was found written on a scrap of paper stuck in his coat, “We are beggars! This is true.” Even after thirty years, he was only echoing his first thesis.
It seems dear ones, we are to live at the foot of the cross.
7 Now he told a parable to those who were invited, when he noticed how they chose the places of honor, saying to them, 8 “When you are invited by someone to a wedding feast, do not sit down in a place of honor, lest someone more distinguished than you be invited by him, 9 and he who invited you both will come and say to you, ‘Give your place to this person,’ and then you will begin with shame to take the lowest place.
10 But when you are invited, go and sit in the lowest place, so that when your host comes he may say to you, ‘Friend, move up higher.’ Then you will be honored in the presence of all who sit at table with you. 11 For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and he who humbles himself will be exalted.”
Luke 14:7-11, ESV
Choose your seat carefully. In Jesus’ day, there was a definite seating order to a wedding feast. It wasn’t first come, first served. There was a strict protocol, where one’s importance mattered.
Honored people got honorable seats–close to the front as possible. Average people got average spots; but no one wanted be at the bottom, having to sit at the “kids table.”
Jesus was watching, and he what he saw was a spiritual principle of his Kingdom.
Jesus often teaches us out of the things we encounter.
Truth often hits us from those things we actually see. If you want to know what God is doing in your life, all you need to do is look around at the practical things, and start to see the spiritual lessons inside them. We learn from real-life. That’s how he often teaches us, he combines the Word with what we’re experiencing.
Our natural inclination is to move higher up.
We think that we’re deserving, and so we take our rightful positions. That’s the way humans think. We all want to sit in the best possible place, and so we end up wheedling our way up front. We can fall into the subtle trap of self-promotion. But that’s not how discipleship works.
Jesuscorrects, advisingustotakethelowestplace.
I think verse 11 is the key to figuring out this seating arrangement. We’re starting to see a physical situation become a spiritual lesson. There’s much to learn. Here’s verse 11 in the Amplified version:
“For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled [before others], and he who habitually humbles himself (keeps a realistic self-view) will be exalted.”
Luke 14:11
This particular translation injects some realism into our lives, especially in how we see ourselves. It’s quite foundational. It lays down a principle that is always true in his Kingdom (1 Peter 5:6). If we don’t accept and implement this, we’ll suffer a definite weakness in our discipleship. It stunts the growth of many believers. And that is tragic.
The whole scene lays out how life in the spirit really works, and it seems paradoxical.
Our human logic asserts that deliberately choosing the lesser is foolish, things really don’t work that way. We think, (falsely,) that we’ll only advance by asserting ourselves. But Jesus, quite aptly, clarifies the ways of the Kingdom.
True maturity will only come if we decide to take the lowest place.
“Humble yourselves before the Lord, and he will exalt you.”
26 And he said, “The kingdom of God is as if a man should scatter seed on the ground. 27 He sleeps and rises night and day, and the seed sprouts and grows; he knows not how. 28 The earth produces by itself, first the blade, then the ear, then the full grain in the ear. 29 But when the grain is ripe, at once he puts in the sickle, because the harvest has come.”
Mark 4:26-29
From a seed to a plant. We have no idea how this happens, it just does. This is a “kingdom” parable, one of several that explain what God’s realm is, and how it happens. In this particular story, we’re told how the Holy Spirit works. It also explains our role in this (which isn’t a whole lot).
The farmer puts the seed in the ground—and that’s it.
He’s done his work, there’s nothing more he can do. He doesn’t do anything else from this point, and honestly he can’t. And yet the soil needs to be prepared—plowed, fertilized and tilled again. You might say he creates the conditions (that’s what makes a good farmer, I guess) for something to happen.
He doesn’t massage the seed, coaxing it to grow.
He doesn’t sing to it, or tell it about the wonders of being lush and green. He does zero. The seed grows on its own. He goes to bed, and gets up. After several days, bingo! That seed turns into a plant—something green and alive. He doesn’t do a thing. Life occurs without his work.
The point is this. God’s work is done invisibly within us (and that’s a relief)!
“The secret of growth is in the seed, not in the soil nor in the weather nor in the cultivating. These all help, but the seed spontaneously works according to its own nature.”
Robertson’s Commentary
God’s kingdom works pretty much like this. The farmer doesn’t cause the seed growth, all he does is go to bed! He sleeps and waits and watches. It grows and he hasn’t the slightest. It’s a complete mystery. He has done everything he can, and God has done the rest. He “shares” in this amazing transformation, but the father has done it all.
We trust in a process we cannot see, or really understand.
We don’t dig the seed up every morning to see what’s happening. We just let the (super)natural happen. And it does!
The farmer has faith in the process (after all, he did plant the seed), but that’s it. There’s a verse in 1 Corinthians that should be considered. It gives us confidence and a definite trust in this process of growth. The Apostle Paul understands this “principle of growth.”
“So neither he who plants nor he who waters is anything, but only God who gives the growth.”
1 Cor. 3:7
We must trust God completely to grow. We’re responsible for tilling and planting. But you need to understand what happens after that is up to him. The kingdom of God is supernatural. It’s exactly how the kingdom happens—and we must be very patient and incredibly wise.
“There is nothing more important to learn about Christian growth than this: Growing in grace means becoming like Christ.”
Now they were bringing even infants to him that he might touch them. And when the disciples saw it, they rebuked them. 16 But Jesus called them to him, saying, “Let the children come to me, and do not hinder them, for to such belongs the kingdom of God. 17
“Truly, I say to you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child shall not enter it.”
Luke 18:15-17
Again we were wrong (like usual it seems). I guess that we were trying to maximize Jesus’ ministry. We meant well, but He needed organization. So that was now our “ministry.” We simply felt that Jesus’ time was our concern, and as His disciples we wanted Him to connect with those who really mattered.
The parents were bringing their children to be blessed by Jesus.
“It was the custom for mothers to bring their children to some distinguished Rabbi on the first birthday that he might bless them.”
Jesus made it clear that these children needed to be the focus of our ministry. Our efforts were not to be centered on adults, rather it was misguided thinking that we direct Jesus’ work to be focused and redirected. These little ones were in the way.
Up to now, Jesus’ work was for adults. Or so we thought.
There were lepers, demon-possessed, paralyzed, tax-collectors all waiting for His ministry. Somehow we overlooked the needs of little children. Again, we were wrong, misguided, and ignorant of the walk we were called to.
Trust me on this–we believed otherwise. Up to now, we assumed that maturity meant sophistication. It was all about right thinking and good theology–it was these things God was looking for. We assumed that being simple wasn’t quite what Jesus wanted from us. Rather we believed the opposite.
And sure enough, Jesus explained what we were missing.
Children were to become our focus. They were the ones who we were to emulate and esteem. The radical thing to us was understanding that these ‘little ones’ were that significant.
“Let these children alone. Don’t get between them and me. These children are the kingdom’s pride and joy. Mark this: Unless you accept God’s kingdom in the simplicity of a child, you’ll never get in.”
Luke 18:16-17, The Message
This was like a 2×4 across the head! It was nothing less than another radical thought from our Teacher. And trust me, this wasn’t easy, but Jesus was crystal clear. We dare not think otherwise, but believing this was against all we thought the Kingdom was.
Jesus explained that childlikeness was the only way we could enter His Kingdom.
Children were now to be our examples. Their simplicity was to be our guide. Their simple innocence was how we were to see ourselves. You have no idea how extreme this was to us.
This was the Kingdom of God’s doorway into true discipleship. We carried this lesson for the rest of our lives. It was something we passed on to our disciples.
“Part of the exquisite beauty of salvation is its simplicity. Any man, woman, or child can come to Christ with absolutely nothing to offer Him but simple faith-just as they are. Salvation requires nothing more than childlike faith–believing that Jesus Christ died for my sins and accepting His gift of Salvation.”
“He came to Simon Peter, who said to him, “Lord, do you wash my feet?” 7 Jesus answered him, “What I am doing you do not understand now, but afterward you will understand.”8 Peter said to him, “You shall never wash my feet.” Jesus answered him, “If I do not wash you, you have no share with me.”
John 13:6-8 (context vv. 3-17)
Chapter 13 always rocks my world. I visualize this, like a fly on-the-wall, watching it happen–and then I replay it over, and over in my mind. It always unravels me. Why does this have to happen? What does this passage tell me about Jesus, and his kingdom? (John 13).
Why can’t I just walk away from it, and leave it be?
Jesus made himself a slave, (or perhaps he was always a slave all along, and we just didn’t realize it?) Foot-washers were pretty much regarded as sub-human, mindless drones who mechanically performed a necessary duty. The lowest of the low, the very least of the least.
But Jesus took that role on himself, he laid aside his garments, and his Godhood. (They landed in a pile in the corner of the room). When he knelt down to scrub feet (making sure he got between the toes), it was deity serving man. This God/rabbi intentionally did this, not reluctantly or halfheartedly–but carefully.
He was their teacher.
Custom demanded he enjoy the prerogatives of that position. But he wouldn’t, and didn’t. He mustn’t. As I stress over this, I must conclude he really was their “teacher,” but not in the way I expect. What he was doing on his knees, was instructing them in the art of loving each other. He showed us a leader in action.
Real disciples function best when they wash between the toes.
There was a point in Jewish history when the people actually demanded that God would give them a king, instead of a judge (1 Samuel 8:5-9). God warned them that this wasn’t in his plans–but they insisted. They had to have one, everyone else did. We still must have celebrities, and then we wonder why they short circuit on us. Who can resist the privilege, and the limelight?
Peter of course was classic Peter.
It seems that whenever he resists, he gets rebuked. He makes it quite clear that Jesus will never wash feet–that Jesus will never use a basin or towel and serve him like this. It was outrageous. It didn’t fit in Peter’s personal theology. He had no room for Jesus the slave. Perhaps Peter knew that to follow meant he would have to do the same thing?
Jesus still washes feet.
He sits us down and takes off our shoes and socks, and scrubs us clean. And we hate it. But to be washed by him is a condition of our discipleship. Every follower must be clean, and he continues his work to this day. We sin daily, even as his own, and he cleans us up–and yet somehow that really bothers us.
“Does God ask us to do what is beneath us? This question will never trouble us again if we consider the Lord of heaven taking a towel and washing feet.
“Then God said to him in the dream, “Yes, I know that you have done this in the integrity of your heart, and it was I who kept you from sinning against me. Therefore I did not let you touch her.”
Genesis 20:6
This is called restraining grace, the doctrine that teaches that God intervenes to prevent sin from happening.
Both the pagan king Abimelech and the patriarch Abraham have problems. One wants to add Sarah to his harem (lust), and the other pretends that Sarah isn’t his wife, but his sister (cowardice).
The dream:
Abimelech goes to bed and has a “God dream.” The Lord threatens him with death for taking another man’s wife. King Abimelech protests and pleads for his life. (Dreams were significant in Genesis.)
God relents and to Abimelech’s credit the Lord understands that this was done from a clear conscience. It seems that Abraham’s spinelessness has given the wrong idea about Sarah. She isn’t his sister, but his wife!
There are some interesting issues here. Not only is the king prevented from sinning here, but we see the lengths God went to protect Abraham and Sarah’s marriage. They were to be the parents of the nation of Israel. God would see to that.
There are real consequences to our sin. We will reap what we sow (Galatians 6:7), but God’s grace protects the believer who desires to be Christ-like. He is a shield to the man who runs to Him.
Aren’t you glad that there are times when God kept you from sinning against Him?
It probably happens more than you realize. I’ve found that there is a still, small voice that speaks to the Spirit-filled believer. Sometimes we ignore it and sometimes we obey it, but it’s there. It’s meant to guide us.
Our conscience is the “sheriff” of our souls. It’s our compass.
It seems that little is said about conscience anymore, but it’s imperative that you recognize it. Conscience tells you whether something is right or wrong. It’s our guide and must be closely watched over. It can become seared and clouded–it can be defiled. But it also can be purified and made holy.
Our conscience knows this. It’s a spiritual fact.
“In Psalm 23:3, David tells us that the Lord leads His people “in paths of righteousness for his name’s sake.” If we belong to God and evidence this through our mortification of sin and holy living, then He will help protect us from falling. Do you feel as if you are having trouble loving Him and His will today? It may be because you are not practicing righteousness. Endeavor to live in holiness today and He will guard your way.”
The life of Moses is a wonderful story. When he was a young man he met God in a common shrub. He was shepherding a flock for his father-in-law. Then something quite extraordinary happened. He saw a bush on fire.
“When the Lord saw that he turned aside to see, God called to him out of the bush, “Moses, Moses!” And he said, “Here I am.”
Exodus 3:4, ESV
God would call Abraham, Issac, Jacob, Joshua. And there was also Samuel and Isaiah. In the book of Acts Paul heard Jesus call him on the Damascus road. And they all responded with one Hebrew word– hineni.
“Here I am.”
God is never silent. He still speaks to each believer. He calls out to us, and hineni must be our response. Yes, walking in faith can be hard, but each one has been summoned. I believe this is true. Each of us is valuable in God’s eyes–“You were bought with a price.”
How are you going to respond to this?
Hineni is a dangerous word. Ask the disciples. When Jesus called them to follow they had no idea how turbulent and troublesome life would become. Each believer gets a cross. And each will know grace and peace.
“And calling the crowd to him with his disciples, he said to them, “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me.”
Mark 8:34
There’s grace given to everyone who can really say, hineni, “Here I am.” I have known that there is joy in my journey, a kindness that has no bottom, a love that surpasses every pinnacle. I’m loved that much.
“Christianity without discipleship is always Christianity without Christ.”
40 And Jesus answering said to him, “Simon, I have something to say to you.” And he answered, “Say it, Teacher.”
41 “A certain moneylender had two debtors. One owed five hundred denarii, and the other fifty. 42 When they could not pay, he cancelled the debt of both. Now which of them will love him more?” 43 Simon answered, “The one, I suppose, for whom he cancelled the larger debt.” And he said to him, “You have judged rightly.”
Then turning toward the woman he said to Simon, “Do you see this woman? I entered your house; you gave me no water for my feet, but she has wet my feet with her tears and wiped them with her hair. 45 You gave me no kiss, but from the time I came in she has not ceased to kiss my feet. 46 You did not anoint my head with oil, but she has anointed my feet with ointment.
47 Therefore I tell you, her sins, which are many, are forgiven—for she loved much. But he who is forgiven little, loves little.”
I don’t mean to be blunt, but how much do you love Jesus? This parable looks at the heart of the forgiven believer, the person who has been incredibly forgiven for everything–all sins, past, present and future. And it’s here we see a woman whose heart is broken by her sin, and we see that she discovers Jesus’ grace, total forgiveness and tremendous mercy.
Jesus has been invited to Simon’s home.
He’s a Pharisee, “a pure one,” one who kept the Law. So far the Pharisees haven’t banded together to attack Jesus’ ministry. It seems that there were still some Pharisees who were true seekers of truth. But that’s about to change.
The text jumps right in and we see Jesus reclining at a table (the Jewish people didn’t use chairs–pillows were used instead.) At a feast like this people who weren’t officially invited could come in to stand in the back and listen in on the conversation. (How awkward.)
Suddenly a woman bursts into the room.
She’s described as “a woman of the city,” which is a code word for “a sinner, or a harlot.” (Let your imagination roll that one around.) She comes with a purpose, for she brings a jar of expensive perfume with her.
She knows what she must do.
The passage reveals that she’s on her knees, weeping on Jesus’ feet, and rubbing His feet with her hair, and pouring out the perfume. Only a harlot would undo her hair like this. She’s even kissing his feet!
She’s obviously a broken person—yet someone who knows who Jesus is.
Living in deep sin has completely destroyed her.
And at this point Simon is deeply offended, and probably embarrassed by what’s happening. But he also assumes that Jesus isn’t who he’s saying he is. “How dare does this man let an unclean person do this!” But Jesus understands everything. His parable is short and it’s a broadside directed at Simon.
The interpretation is obvious: the man who owes the most will love the most.
Jesus accentuates Simon’s breach of protocol. The Lord deftly explains the entire situation; Simon is busted. He’s put on the spot and Jesus has made his point. It’s all so obvious. The essence of the story is clear.
How much do you love the Master?
Have you really grasped how much of your sin that’s been forgiven, or maybe you’re a Simonite—someone who doesn’t quite accept God’s forgiveness? The Bible tells us repeatedly that no one is righteous. No one, and Scripture has a very low opinion of the righteousness of men.
“But we are all as an unclean thing, and all our righteousnesses are as filthy rags; and we all do fade as a leaf; and our iniquities, like the wind, have taken us away.”
Isaiah 64:6, KJV
The Hebrew word for “filthy” is extremely graphic.
I don’t want to offend, but it literally means “a menstruating cloth or rag.” It was something that a woman used before there was Tampax. How very clear and descriptive. Human righteousness is soiled and vulgar to God.
Will we receive God’s righteousness, or will we still try to walk in our righteous filth?
Forgiveness can come only from Him–there is no hesitation or shortage on His part. Our part is to come with loving submission and brokenness at Jesus’s feet, and to fully accept the forgiveness He offers by faith.
“Christianity happens when men and women accept with unwavering trust that their sins have been not only forgiven, but forgotten, washed away in the blood of the Lamb.”
Alaska Bible Teacher 