About Christopher J Wiles

Hey there. My name's Chris. I'm a teaching pastor at Tri-State Fellowship, and a research writer for Docent Research Group. Thanks for stopping by; be sure to stay connected by subscribing to blog updates and more.

Commencement Address (John 14:1-14)

Posted on November 22, 2013 by Christopher J Wiles

I’ve been to my fair share of graduation ceremonies—for myself as well as for friends and family. All of them have featured some sort of “commencement speech.” Most of it is the standard inspirational, get-on-with-it, we’re-just-here-for-my-kid kind of variety. Every so often someone will pull out Dr. Seuss’ Oh, The Places You Go as if they’re the very first people to ever read this at commencement (really?).

Commencement. The root word “commence” refers not to an ending but to a beginning. And that’s what commencement ceremonies are meant to do. Students have spent all the time they need (or can afford!) with their instructors. Now it’s time to test their knowledge in the crucible of the real world.

So when we turn to John 14-17, we find what Dallas Willard calls Jesus’ “commencement address.” If you have one of those Bibles where Jesus’ words are all in red, you can easily see that most of these chapters consist of Him teaching. We find two distinct speeches—one in John 14 and another in John 15-16. Both “speeches” are concluded with a prayer.

In this opening section, Jesus is comforting His disciples. He is about to return to the Father; He wants them to know what it means to stay connected to God. In broader terms, we can see these chapters as describing what it really means to be a “church,” something new that would begin after Jesus’ death.

THE TRUE TEMPLE

John 14:1-14 “Let not your hearts be troubled. Believe in God; believe also in me. ² In my Father’s house are many rooms. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? ³ And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, that where I am you may be also. ⁴ And you know the way to where I am going.” ⁵ Thomas said to him, “Lord, we do not know where you are going. How can we know the way?” ⁶ Jesus said to him, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me. ⁷ If you had known me, you would have known my Father also. From now on you do know him and have seen him.”

Jesus returns to an earlier theme. He refers to His “Father’s house.” But do you remember what “Father’s house” referred to in John 2? Jesus “was speaking of the temple of His body” (John 2:21). Jesus’ death would secure His followers a place in the body of Christ.

And do you remember the actual function of a temple? A temple was a place where God was encountered—a kind of “cosmic crossroads” if you will. Jesus is saying that what took place in a building would now take place in a body—referring to what would later be called the church. So it’s interesting that Philip would take this moment to ask Jesus about seeing God.

⁸ Philip said to him, “Lord, show us the Father, and it is enough for us.” ⁹ Jesus said to him, “Have I been with you so long, and you still do not know me, Philip? Whoever has seen me has seen the Father. How can you say, ‘Show us the Father’? ¹⁰ Do you not believe that I am in the Father and the Father is in me? The words that I say to you I do not speak on my own authority, but the Father who dwells in me does his works. ¹¹ Believe me that I am in the Father and the Father is in me, or else believe on account of the works themselves.

Today’s world is more spiritual than ever. Many, like Philip, long to see God up close. But far, far fewer expect such a radical encounter to happen within the walls of a church. Instead of finding Jesus in a church, many people find themselves disillusioned, disheartened, disgusted. Still others are content not to find Jesus—at least not the Jesus of Scripture—but are satisfied with moral lessons and self-help seminars.

But Jesus is saying that if you want to truly know Me, if you want to truly know God, sooner or later you have to get real with this whole thing called “church.” Too often we look at church as a building, the sum total of its canned programs and a martyr to its own shortcomings. Jesus says that the church is more than that—it’s a body, a living, breathing organism, rich in life and saturated by His gospel. This is why church can never merely be a service to be attended but a community to be embodied. It was a gift—purchased through the blood of Jesus (John 14:3) and given to His people.

DO BIG; DREAM SMALL

Jesus begins to describe the mission of the church:

¹²“Truly, truly, I say to you, whoever believes in me will also do the works that I do; and greater works than these will he do, because I am going to the Father. ¹³ Whatever you ask in my name, this I will do, that the Father may be glorified in the Son. ¹⁴ If you ask me anything in my name, I will do it.

It’s easy to get lost in the extravagance of Jesus’ words. Whatever I ask? Anything? But let’s not forget the most immediate context. Jesus had displayed an attitude of a humble servant by washing the feet of even those who would betray Him. When Jesus is talking about “greater works,” I somehow can’t imagine He’d taken the towel from around His waist to put on a royal robe.

Again, as I think back to commencement addresses and other such inspirational moments, it’s always been within the context of “dreaming big.” Success means chasing after your dreams—no matter how larger, no matter how foolish they are in the eyes of others. Do you see how dangerous this could be to our spirituality? Think about it. If we only view God as One who accomplishes “big things,” only moves mountains, only causes the sun to stand still, we have placed Him in a very confined box. We have limited His power.

Don’t misunderstand me. I believe in a God powerful enough to accomplish these “big things.” But do you really think that God has a separate category for “big things” and “small things?” If God’s “glory”—His significance, His importance—is about to be revealed in a humiliating death, what does this say about the tasks that lie before us? Is it possible that the power of God is revealed not when we accomplish much, but when we are simply faithful? Is it possible that like Jesus, God’s power is revealed not only in our achievements but in our scars, our wounds? Is it possible that like Jesus, God’s power is manifested in us when we humbly serve others in simple, small ways? Is it possible that like Jesus, God would use our lives to impact only a few people—but carry on a movement that would stretch into eternity?

That’s what church really is. That’s why one’s experience of church can never be fully evaluated on the basis of a Sunday morning experience alone. “Doing” church starts with “being” church. In the next few chapters, Jesus will reveal all the more what this will look like when we throw our hats in the air.

What’s love got to do with it? (John 13:18-38)

Posted on November 21, 2013 by Christopher J Wiles

Love. It’s the subject of countless songs. It’s the center of countless films. But in many ways “love” has become a bankrupt word. I can love anything—or at least say I do. Like, I don’t know…tacos. I love tacos, but somehow I doubt that the love I have for tacos is anything close to the width and depth of the love expressed on today’s Top 40.

Then again…maybe it’s not that far off. These days a marriage is considered a success when it lasts past the honeymoon. Celebrity marriages epitomize the way we’ve become far too comfortable with transient, insubstantial forms of love.

In the religious world, love is a pivotal virtue. Though best known for his Narnia series, C.S. Lewis used his classical training to provide a thorough analysis of love in his book The Four Loves. There’s more than one kind of love, he says. Need-love, for instance, is the love of a child for a parent. And the word “need” is not used lightly. Children born in the poorest of countries have actually died from a lack of a mother’s love—a condition called marasmus. Gift-love, by contrast, is the love of God for humanity. It’s the love most fully expressed in the arrival of Jesus, and His sacrifice on the cross.

The sad news, however, is that there will always be those for whom God’s gift-love does not satisfy. Judas was such a person. Countless writers have speculated as to why he chose to betray Jesus. Was it money? Was he angry that Jesus wasn’t there to overthrow the oppressive government? John doesn’t answer these questions for us. Instead, John points his finger past these questions and into the shadows of the human heart.

AND IT WAS NIGHT

Jesus and His followers reclined at the table—in some cases leaning on one another—as was the custom for that culture. This wasn’t the first Passover meal they’d spent together, but tonight as the oil lamps lit the room the air hung thick with smoke and heavy with meaning. The cross loomed on the horizon; Jesus now turns to the realities that faced all of them in the days ahead:

John 13:18-38 ¹⁸ I am not speaking of all of you; I know whom I have chosen. But the Scripture will be fulfilled, ‘He who ate my bread has lifted his heel against me.’ ¹⁹ I am telling you this now, before it takes place, that when it does take place you may believe that I am he. ²⁰ Truly, truly, I say to you, whoever receives the one I send receives me, and whoever receives me receives the one who sent me.”

²¹ After saying these things, Jesus was troubled in his spirit, and testified, “Truly, truly, I say to you, one of you will betray me.” ²² The disciples looked at one another, uncertain of whom he spoke. ²³ One of his disciples, whom Jesus loved, was reclining at table close to Jesus, ²⁴ so Simon Peter motioned to him to ask Jesus of whom he was speaking. ²⁵ So that disciple, leaning back against Jesus, said to him, “Lord, who is it?” ²⁶ Jesus answered, “It is he to whom I will give this morsel of bread when I have dipped it.” So when he had dipped the morsel, he gave it to Judas, the son of Simon Iscariot. ²⁷ Then after he had taken the morsel, Satan entered into him. Jesus said to him, “What you are going to do, do quickly.” ²⁸ Now no one at the table knew why he said this to him. ²⁹ Some thought that, because Judas had the moneybag, Jesus was telling him, “Buy what we need for the feast,” or that he should give something to the poor. ³⁰ So, after receiving the morsel of bread, he immediately went out. And it was night.

In the ancient world, to “eat and run” was the ultimate insult. But this would hardly be the worst thing Judas would do to Jesus. John tells us that “it was night.” Throughout his biography of Jesus, John uses the imagery of light and dark—sometimes to refer to good and evil, sometimes to refer to ignorance and understanding. Here, John seems to allude to the fact that Judas’ life had become defined by moral darkness—by evil. In our lives, we will meet people like Judas—people who live apart from the love of God. But as we take a step back, we see that even an act of betrayal is not outside the plan of God.

Jesus is now left with the rest of His followers—and He turns more specifically to the subject of love. In my counseling courses, I can remember learning that one of the hallmarks of emotional maturity is the ability to both give and receive love. It seems that an essential part of our life with Jesus is our ability to give and receive love—though not our own love, but the kind of love the Savior demonstrates.

TO GIVE LOVE

³¹ When he had gone out, Jesus said, “Now is the Son of Man glorified, and God is glorified in him. ³² If God is glorified in him, God will also glorify him in himself, and glorify him at once. ³³ Little children, yet a little while I am with you. You will seek me, and just as I said to the Jews, so now I also say to you, ‘Where I am going you cannot come.’ ³⁴ A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another: just as I have loved you, you also are to love one another. ³⁵ By this all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”

A “new” commandment? Surely this isn’t the first time that Jesus had given this kind of command. Jesus’ other biographers all record Jesus echoing the Biblical command to “love your neighbor as yourself” (Matthew 19:19; Mark 12:31; Luke 10:27). But in John, Jesus gives His followers a command that is even more radical: to “love one another just as I have loved you.” Jesus sets the standard for love. In the immediate context, the command refers to the servant’s heart demonstrated through the washing of feet. But in the whole of John’s story, we see that Jesus refers to the way He stepped from the throne of heaven to the dusty roads of our humanity.

Do you see how radical this kind of love is? And don’t miss this “minor” detail: Judas had been there earlier. Jesus washed the feet not only of the faithful, but also of the faithless. It’s easy to love those who love us back. But that’s not real love. That’s a shallower, self-serving kind of love. What Jesus calls us to is a deeper, self-sacrificing kind of love.

We can see this expressed as we return to Lewis’ book. Lewis comments on the writings of a man named Augustine, who mourns the loss of a friend. Augustine concludes that the pain he feels is the consequence of loving anything except for God. Lewis can’t disagree more. Pain is a part of the process, he insists. Lewis writes:

“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly be broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give it to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries, lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that coffin–safe, dark, motionless, airless–it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. The alternative to tragedy, or at least to the risk of tragedy, is damnation. The only place outside Heaven where you can be perfectly safe from all the dangers and perturbations of love is Hell.” (C. S. Lewis, The Four Loves)

Self-protection and self-defense are the greatest and surest barriers to self-sacrifice. To follow in the steps of Jesus is to experience betrayal and loss alongside the experience of joy. As we learn to love people, some will bless us, others will curse us. All will be used to shape us more and more into the image of Jesus.

TO RECEIVE LOVE

³⁶ Simon Peter said to him, “Lord, where are you going?” Jesus answered him, “Where I am going you cannot follow me now, but you will follow afterward.” ³⁷ Peter said to him, “Lord, why can I not follow you now? I will lay down my life for you.” ³⁸ Jesus answered, “Will you lay down your life for me? Truly, truly, I say to you, the rooster will not crow till you have denied me three times.

Peter is brash. Headstrong. But these features won’t prevent him from denying Jesus. It’s easy to demonize Judas, to think “betrayal” is more severe than “denial.” But what separates these two men is not some difference in the magnitude of their offense, but in the magnitude of God’s grace. Earlier, Peter had refused to let Jesus wash his feet. Little did he realize how much grace and love would be necessary, and he realized even less just how much grace and love he would receive.

The same is true for us. In his commentary on this passage, a professor from Asbury Seminary writes:

“This is a story that dashes spiritual arrogance, false pride, and triumphalism which has always plagued the church. We see a Peter resistant to foot washing, just as many of us are frequently resistant to the idea of repenting and seeking forgiveness and cleansing. Yet this story calls us to remember that even if a Peter can deny Jesus, if even a Judas…can betray Jesus…this ought to cause us to soberly evaluate ourselves to see what sort of work the Lord still needs to do in our lives in order to remove arrogance and other un-Christlike traits.” (Ben Witherington III, John’s Wisdom, p. 240)

Everything in our culture says that love is given and received purely on the basis of performance. Within that system, we languish between the extremes of pride and despair. The gospel says that love is given based not on performance but on the basis of grace. When I realize that, it changes everything. Only then am I able to truly receive the extravagant gift of God’s unfailing love. Only then am I truly able to extend this love to those that seem least deserving. And only then am I soft enough to be molded more and more into the image of Jesus.

Heart and Sole (John 13:1-17)

Posted on November 20, 2013 by Christopher J Wiles

The first half of John’s gospel had focused on Jesus’ public ministry. In fact, it’s the only account we have of Jesus’ ministry spanning three years. This “book of signs” had focused on the way Jesus revealed Himself to the world. But now the scene shifts. Time slows. The “book of glory” (John 13-21) focuses now on Jesus’ final week. Chapters 13-17 even focus on Jesus’ final meal.

What can we make of this? I can remember that when Mel Gibson’s Passion of the Christ was released, it was panned by countless critics who were baffled to devote so much attention to the man’s death rather than His life and moral teachings. If Jesus was a moral teacher, then their criticism holds weight. But if Jesus was Savior—if Jesus was God who came to give His life in our stead—then it makes more sense that we’d want to fully understand His death. And that’s why John gives us so much detail about Jesus’ final hours with His disciples. In John 13 we find Jesus at His final meal:

John 13:1-17 Now before the Feast of the Passover, when Jesus knew that his hour had come to depart out of this world to the Father, having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end.

John goes out of His way to connect Jesus to the Passover. The Passover was a Jewish holiday that memorialized the day they were finally set free from Egyptian slavery. They shared a meal—the centerpiece being a lamb, whose blood they used to mark the doorframe of their houses so that God’s horrific anger might “pass over” them.

Tonight, this house was marked by the blood of a different Lamb—not a Lamb whose blood was shed but a Lamb whose blood was about to be shed. John gives no details of the meal itself, only that Jesus used the meal as a teachable moment—a time for an additional symbolic act.

² During supper, when the devil had already put it into the heart of Judas Iscariot, Simon’s son, to betray him, ³ Jesus, knowing that the Father had given all things into his hands, and that he had come from God and was going back to God, ⁴ rose from supper. He laid aside his outer garments, and taking a towel, tied it around his waist. ⁵ Then he poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples’ feet and to wipe them with the towel that was wrapped around him. ⁶ 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.” ⁹ Simon Peter said to him, “Lord, not my feet only but also my hands and my head!” ¹⁰ Jesus said to him, “The one who has bathed does not need to wash, except for his feet, but is completely clean. And you are clean, but not every one of you.” ¹¹ For he knew who was to betray him; that was why he said, “Not all of you are clean.”

¹² When he had washed their feet and put on his outer garments and resumed his place, he said to them, “Do you understand what I have done to you? ¹³ You call me Teacher and Lord, and you are right, for so I am. ¹⁴ If I then, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet. ¹⁵ For I have given you an example, that you also should do just as I have done to you. ¹⁶ Truly, truly, I say to you, a servant is not greater than his master, nor is a messenger greater than the one who sent him. ¹⁷ If you know these things, blessed are you if you do them.

I actually grew up in a church tradition that took this quite literally—my church washed each other’s feet when we observed the Lord’s table. It was…pretty weird.

I can say that with no hesitation because the act itself was radically cross-cultural—especially in Jesus’ day. In a world of dust and sandals, it wasn’t uncommon for servants to wash your feet when you entered a home. It was unheard of for the master of the house to do it himself—as if we visited Bill Gates and he offered to do our laundry. No wonder Peter objected; this was an act that seemed beneath Jesus. It might have even been a little embarrassing.

Jesus connects the act to the idea of being “clean.” Did you know that all cultures have strong categories of clean and unclean? In 1965 Mary Stuart Douglas wrote a book called Purity and Danger. It’s a fascinating book, really. One of the things she found was that centuries before we discovered “germs,” cultures maintained strong boundaries between clean and unclean. Douglas wouldn’t go this far, but I would take this to mean that every culture recognizes the reality of “sin,” and the way it tends to defile us.

Think of our own culture. What do we mean by “dirty?” I’ve often observed the way we connect this image to sexuality: dirty movies, dirty bookstores, etc. What phrase do we use when a young woman returns home in the morning after a one-night-stand? The “walk of shame.” “Ah,” you say, “but isn’t this just another example of Christians trying to make everyone feel guilty?” It’s true that Christianity has a reputation for being something of a killjoy. But look at what’s happening: if guilt and shame are nothing more than the pointed finger of Christianity, then why is it the further we run from these values, the dirtier we feel? Maybe we’re dirtier than we first thought, and in more need of grace than we let on.

That’s what Passover was about. By this time in Jewish history, all blood sacrifice purified sin. It made us clean. And Jesus was, after all, the “Lamb of God who lifts away the sin of humanity” (John 1:29). On this night, of all nights, He portrays Himself as a humble servant, washing the feet of His followers—even Judas (we’ll return to Him tomorrow).

His closest followers were clueless what this all meant, but we have the benefit of hindsight. We know that the shadow of the cross looms large on the horizon. And in that shadow we understand—as if for the first time—just how shocking this act truly is. If a servant washed your feet, it was expected. If the master of the house washed your feet, it was unusual. If God Himself washed your feet, it was an act of pure grace. Did you know that the Hebrew word for grace comes from a word that meant “to bend” or “to stoop?” In Jesus we see a picture of what God did for each of us. He doesn’t wait for us to “get clean” before we come to Him. He doesn’t roll His eyes and wait for us to realize our own filth. He stoops down, with towel in hand, to handle even the filthiest parts of our souls.

“There is No Other” (John 6:60-71)

Posted on November 1, 2013 by Christopher J Wiles

Few things are as polarizing as faith. Conviction has its own way of drawing a line in the sand. Jesus, standing among His followers in the local synagogue, had now thrown down the gauntlet. The people had been impressed that the son of a carpenter had been able to perform miracles. But now He was making strange statements about eating His flesh? Drinking His blood? Being equal with God?

John 6:60 – 7:1 ⁶⁰ When many of his disciples heard it, they said, “This is a hard saying; who can listen to it?”

In today’s world, spirituality is assumed to exist on a spectrum. I can dial it in as my circumstances demand. The only forms of spirituality I avoid are the extreme ends of this spectrum. No one wants to be a fanatic. “I’m a Christian,” we might say. “But I don’t force my religion down other people’s throats.” In other words, I’m not comfortable making others uncomfortable. Jesus doesn’t allow His followers to remain in the safety of this Nerf-gun faith. He plays with live ammo:

⁶¹ But Jesus, knowing in himself that his disciples were grumbling about this, said to them, “Do you take offense at this? ⁶² Then what if you were to see the Son of Man ascending to where he was before? ⁶³ It is the Spirit who gives life; the flesh is no help at all. The words that I have spoken to you are spirit and life. ⁶⁴ But there are some of you who do not believe.” (For Jesus knew from the beginning who those were who did not believe, and who it was who would betray him.) ⁶⁵ And he said, “This is why I told you that no one can come to me unless it is granted him by the Father.”

We don’t need to get lost in debates over “free will” to understand what Jesus is saying here. It’s harder to believe than not to. Jesus isn’t concerned about whether His message is hard or easy; He’s concerned about a message that’s true. Jesus’ words remind us that we need not be surprised that many in our world choose not to believe. Instead, we should be grateful that God’s Spirit has granted us the ability to believe at all.

⁶⁶ After this many of his disciples turned back and no longer walked with him. ⁶⁷ So Jesus said to the Twelve, “Do you want to go away as well?” ⁶⁸ Simon Peter answered him, “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life, ⁶⁹ and we have believed, and have come to know, that you are the Holy One of God.” ⁷⁰ Jesus answered them, “Did I not choose you, the Twelve? And yet one of you is a devil.” ⁷¹ He spoke of Judas the son of Simon Iscariot, for he, one of the Twelve, was going to betray him.

It amazes me that Jesus was so willing to allow the crowds to walk away from Him. He made no attempt to regain their affections through clever words or side-show performances. Surely it must have broken His heart—but His followers wouldn’t be based on entertainment or experience. His closest followers understood that it wasn’t bread that they truly needed, but the “words of eternal life.”

We do ourselves—we do God—a great disservice by treating faith too lightly. One of the most prominent themes of the Hebrew scriptures is the “fear of the Lord.” Have we lost this understanding? Have we turned the God of the Bible into something safe, tame, domesticated? In his beloved Narnia series, C.S. Lewis gives us a picture that closely resembles the scene of John 6. Jill is looking for water when she comes across a stream:

“Although the sight of water made her feel ten times thirstier than before, she didn’t rush forward and drink. She stood as still as if she had been turned into stone, with her mouth wide open. And she had a very good reason; just on this side of the stream lay the lion….

‘If I run away, it’ll be after me in a moment,’ thought Jill. ‘And if I go on, I shall run straight into its mouth.’ Anyway, she couldn’t have moved if she had tried, and she couldn’t take her eyes off it….

‘If you’re thirsty, you may drink.’

…the voice was not like a man’s. It was deeper, wilder, and stronger; a sort of heavy, golden voice. It did not make her any less frightened than she had been before, but it made her frightened in a rather different way.

‘Are you not thirsty?’ said the Lion.

‘I’m dying of thirst,’ said Jill

‘Then drink,’ said the Lion.

‘May I—could I—would you mind going away while I do?’ said Jill.

The Lion answered this only by a look and a very low growl. And as Jill gazed at its motionless bulk, she realized that she might as well have asked the whole mountain to move aside for her convenience. The delicious rippling noise of the stream was driving her nearly frantic.

‘Will you promise not to—do anything to me, if I do come?’ said Jill.

‘I make no promise,’ said the Lion.

‘Do you eat girls?’ she said.

‘I have swallowed up girls and boys, women and men, kings and emperors, cities and realms,’ said the Lion. It didn’t say this as if it were boasting, nor as if it were sorry, nor as if it were angry. It just said it.

‘I daren’t come and drink,’ said Jill.

‘Then you will die of thirst,’ said the Lion.

‘Oh dear!’ said Jill, coming another step nearer. ‘I suppose I must go and look for another stream then.’

‘There is no other stream,’ said the Lion.”

There is no other stream. No other path, no other source of life. “To whom shall we go?” the disciples ask. It’s a good question for each of us. If all we want is “bread,” all we want is external satisfaction, our world offers endless supply; an abundance of means but a lack of ends, of real meaning and significance. But if we want something else—something deeper, more substantial—we find it at the feet of a God that makes mountains quake and oceans roar. Before Him, there is no other.

Useless Beauty (John 6:25-59)

Posted on October 31, 2013 by Christopher J Wiles

Jesus was one of the most controversial and misunderstood men who ever lived. We’d already seen Him stir up trouble among the religious leaders. Now He brings the controversy to the level of the common people. Jesus provided bread for the 5,000 in a dramatic retelling of the exodus. He would provide freedom, He would provide nourishment for the journey ahead. Having crossed the sea the previous night, the crowd is confused to find that He arrived ahead of them. Verse 6:58 tells us that at least part (maybe even all) of this lengthy speech happened in a synagogue at Capernaum. It was there that Jesus’ massive following revealed their underlying motivation: they were after another miracle:

John 6:25-59 ²⁵ When they found him on the other side of the sea, they said to him, “Rabbi, when did you come here?” ²⁶ Jesus answered them, “Truly, truly, I say to you, you are seeking me, not because you saw signs, but because you ate your fill of the loaves. ²⁷ Do not labor for the food that perishes, but for the food that endures to eternal life, which the Son of Man will give to you. For on him God the Father has set his seal.” ²⁸ Then they said to him, “What must we do, to be doing the works of God?” ²⁹ Jesus answered them, “This is the work of God, that you believe in him whom he has sent.” ³⁰ So they said to him, “Then what sign do you do, that we may see and believe you? What work do you perform? ³¹ Our fathers ate the manna in the wilderness; as it is written, ‘He gave them bread from heaven to eat.'” ³² Jesus then said to them, “Truly, truly, I say to you, it was not Moses who gave you the bread from heaven, but my Father gives you the true bread from heaven. ³³ For the bread of God is he who comes down from heaven and gives life to the world.” ³⁴ They said to him, “Sir, give us this bread always.”

They want bread. More bread. In the 1700’s, a great movement of religious revivals swept the country—or at least the original thirteen colonies. One of the most prominent leaders was a revival preacher named Jonathan Edwards. Edwards believed that “the grace of God may appear lovely and beautiful in two ways: as bonum utile, or what is most useful or profitable to me…[or] as the bonum formosum, which is a goodness and beauty in itself.”

The crowds that surrounded Jesus worshipped Him as bonum utile. Jesus was useful. He provided bread. An impressive miracle. They would return home with stories to tell. Even today there are times when we worship God for being “useful.” We serve a God who best serves us. I am most content in God when He helps me with my finances, my relationships, my day-to-day problems. For me, He’s not a Savior, but a sidekick. Edwards goes on to explain why this can be so damaging:

“If we merely serve God as the ‘Bonum Utile’ or for what He can do for us…then we are not truly living consistently with ‘Thy will be done’ and so we can undermine His sovereignty. This may be the reason why many who profess Christ cannot fathom a God who is completely holy and sovereign.”

Imagine if you only loved your spouse, your friends, or your kids when they served you best. That’s not real love; that’s just another form of selfishness. “Give us this bread always,” the crowds demand. The gift was more important than the Giver, and the same could be true of you and me.

³⁵ Jesus said to them, “I am the bread of life; whoever comes to me shall not hunger, and whoever believes in me shall never thirst. ³⁶ But I said to you that you have seen me and yet do not believe. ³⁷ All that the Father gives me will come to me, and whoever comes to me I will never cast out. ³⁸ For I have come down from heaven, not to do my own will but the will of him who sent me. ³⁹ And this is the will of him who sent me, that I should lose nothing of all that he has given me, but raise it up on the last day. ⁴⁰ For this is the will of my Father, that everyone who looks on the Son and believes in him should have eternal life, and I will raise him up on the last day.”

⁴¹ So the Jews grumbled about him, because he said, “I am the bread that came down from heaven.” ⁴² They said, “Is not this Jesus, the son of Joseph, whose father and mother we know? How does he now say, ‘I have come down from heaven’?” ⁴³ Jesus answered them, “Do not grumble among yourselves. ⁴⁴ No one can come to me unless the Father who sent me draws him. And I will raise him up on the last day. ⁴⁵ It is written in the Prophets, ‘And they will all be taught by God.’ Everyone who has heard and learned from the Father comes to me– ⁴⁶ not that anyone has seen the Father except he who is from God; he has seen the Father. ⁴⁷ Truly, truly, I say to you, whoever believes has eternal life. ⁴⁸ I am the bread of life. ⁴⁹ Your fathers ate the manna in the wilderness, and they died. ⁵⁰ This is the bread that comes down from heaven, so that one may eat of it and not die. ⁵¹ I am the living bread that came down from heaven. If anyone eats of this bread, he will live forever. And the bread that I will give for the life of the world is my flesh.”

Jesus now gives voice to His earlier action. Moses provided bread. Jesus is the bread. Moses pointed Israel to God. Jesus is God. The religious leaders had objected to such claims on theological grounds. The crowds are a bit more practical. They knew His family; they knew where He came from. He wasn’t fooling anyone with this claim to be God.

To follow Jesus is to actually feast on Him. It’s easy to think He’s referring to the bread and wine of communion—but surely we can see the whole scene as symbolic. Jesus is saying that to follow Him means to digest His teachings. To let Him become a vibrant, living part of us. In Edwards’ terms, to love Him not just for being “useful,” but for being truly beautiful:

“If we serve God as the ‘Bonum Formosum’ or for Who He IS as the holy and beautiful and sovereign God…then there is nothing he cannot ask of us. We must recognize that God is Most Holy, Beautiful, and His Sovereign will is the best for us, come what may, as hard as it may seem, because we can confidently cry: ‘Thy will be done!’” (Jonathan Edwards, The Religious Affections)

No wonder the crowds are growing weary of Jesus’ cryptic metaphors. Beauty isn’t terribly useful. “What’s to be done with all this useless beauty?” sings rock star Elvis Costello. But beauty needs no use; beauty is its own reward. And that’s what Jesus is saying: Don’t follow me expecting me to be a means to your ends. I am the end. I am the true Bread. Don’t come to me expecting more blessing. Come to me expecting more of me.

⁵² The Jews then disputed among themselves, saying, “How can this man give us his flesh to eat?” ⁵³ So Jesus said to them, “Truly, truly, I say to you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you. ⁵⁴ Whoever feeds on my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up on the last day. ⁵⁵ For my flesh is true food, and my blood is true drink. ⁵⁶ Whoever feeds on my flesh and drinks my blood abides in me, and I in him. ⁵⁷ As the living Father sent me, and I live because of the Father, so whoever feeds on me, he also will live because of me. ⁵⁸ This is the bread that came down from heaven, not like the bread the fathers ate and died. Whoever feeds on this bread will live forever.” ⁵⁹ Jesus said these things in the synagogue, as he taught at Capernaum.

Are you satisfied with God? Do you find that you love Him more when He does what you want? Our spiritual lives become transactional: we ask for things, and thank Him for things He gives us. When was the last time we thanked Him not for what He does, but for who He is? Take some time today to do just that. Take some time to encounter a God of tremendous power and useless beauty.

The True Bread (John 6:1-24)

Posted on October 30, 2013 by Christopher J Wiles

I love food. My mother encouraged me to start eating at a very early age. One of the saddest aspects of returning to Maryland was the absence of Texan food options. Tex-mex. Barbecue. And these were only the regional favorites.

Can a meal ever be more than just a meal? We often associate particular meals with different events or even family traditions. Though not a meal per se, one of the most common traditions for Western culture is serving cake at weddings and birthdays.

So in a way, a meal can tell a story. Think about it: consider the following two “stories” below. What does each one tell you?

Last night I ate cake.
Last night I ate cake with candles on it.

The first “story” tells you very little. But the second one surely conjured up a whole host of potential images: party hats, brightly wrapped gifts—if you have kids, maybe even a few rounds of pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey. The point is clear: add a few minor details, and you’ve done more than simply serve a meal. You’ve told a story. That’s what Jesus does in John 6:

John 6:1-24 After this Jesus went away to the other side of the Sea of Galilee, which is the Sea of Tiberias. ² And a large crowd was following him, because they saw the signs that he was doing on the sick. ³ Jesus went up on the mountain, and there he sat down with his disciples. ⁴ Now the Passover, the feast of the Jews, was at hand.

Here is our first clue: the Passover was approaching. John’s mentioned the Passover before. The Jews regarded the Passover as one of their most significant Holy days. What did it mean? The Passover celebrated Israel’s deliverance from Egypt. They had been enslaved for 450 years before God sent Moses to free them. On the night of their escape, God killed the firstborn sons in all of Egypt. The sons of Israel would be spared only by marking their homes with the blood of a lamb—God would literally “pass over” their home. God delivered Israel by parting the waters of the Red Sea, and sustained His people by providing them bread in the wilderness. A lamb. A crossing of the sea. A provision of bread. These elements (and others) became as much a part of Israel’s story as the candles on a birthday cake. These elements reminded Israel that she was God’s chosen people, and He would relentlessly fight for her no matter the cost.

⁵ Lifting up his eyes, then, and seeing that a large crowd was coming toward him, Jesus said to Philip, “Where are we to buy bread, so that these people may eat?” ⁶ He said this to test him, for he himself knew what he would do. ⁷ Philip answered him, “Two hundred denarii would not buy enough bread for each of them to get a little.” ⁸ One of his disciples, Andrew, Simon Peter’s brother, said to him, ⁹ “There is a boy here who has five barley loaves and two fish, but what are they for so many?”

The problem is clearly identified. Jesus had attracted followers, but what could He do to sustain them? Bread was a staple for the first century world, but barley loaves were consumed only by the lower class. What could five loaves possibly do? The disciples remained committed to earthly, human solutions. God had other plans:

¹⁰ Jesus said, “Have the people sit down.” Now there was much grass in the place. So the men sat down, about five thousand in number. ¹¹ Jesus then took the loaves, and when he had given thanks, he distributed them to those who were seated. So also the fish, as much as they wanted. ¹² And when they had eaten their fill, he told his disciples, “Gather up the leftover fragments, that nothing may be lost.” ¹³ So they gathered them up and filled twelve baskets with fragments from the five barley loaves left by those who had eaten. ¹⁴ When the people saw the sign that he had done, they said, “This is indeed the Prophet who is to come into the world!”

The people were amazed. Jesus had offered a miraculous provision of bread. The basketfuls of leftovers reveal just how extraordinary the whole scene is. But Jesus is cautious. He’s not interested in having people follow Him just for the thrill of seeing miracles in action. So He retreats with His disciples.

¹⁵ Perceiving then that they were about to come and take him by force to make him king, Jesus withdrew again to the mountain by himself. ¹⁶ When evening came, his disciples went down to the sea, ¹⁷ got into a boat, and started across the sea to Capernaum. It was now dark, and Jesus had not yet come to them. ¹⁸ The sea became rough because a strong wind was blowing. ¹⁹ When they had rowed about three or four miles, they saw Jesus walking on the sea and coming near the boat, and they were frightened. ²⁰ But he said to them, “It is I; do not be afraid.” ²¹ Then they were glad to take him into the boat, and immediately the boat was at the land to which they were going.

²² On the next day the crowd that remained on the other side of the sea saw that there had been only one boat there, and that Jesus had not entered the boat with his disciples, but that his disciples had gone away alone. ²³ Other boats from Tiberias came near the place where they had eaten the bread after the Lord had given thanks. ²⁴ So when the crowd saw that Jesus was not there, nor his disciples, they themselves got into the boats and went to Capernaum, seeking Jesus.

Do you see some familiar elements to this story? A provision of bread. A crossing of the water. The sequence may not perfectly match, but Jesus seems to be retelling the story of the Passover. He is introducing a new exodus—not merely from political captivity but from the entrapment of sin itself. Jesus is therefore the true bread—God’s true sustenance in our spiritual journey.

Do you feel trapped in the story you’re in now? Maybe you feel trapped by your circumstances, your pains, your doubts, your struggles. Trapped financially, trapped relationally, maybe even trapped by some physical affliction. Jesus wants to rewrite your story. Jesus wants to offer you a taste of life in His kingdom.

Law and Order (and the Gospel) (John 5:16-47)

Posted on October 29, 2013 by Christopher J Wiles

No one likes disruptions. Routine is the nectar of the civilized man. But the gospel isn’t very civilized, nor is it reserved for the dignified. Jesus had just healed a man’s lifelong illness. But the religious community was outraged that in doing so, He violated the carefully manicured Sabbath traditions:

John 5:16-47 ¹⁶ And this was why the Jews were persecuting Jesus, because he was doing these things on the Sabbath. ¹⁷ But Jesus answered them, “My Father is working until now, and I am working.” ¹⁸ This was why the Jews were seeking all the more to kill him, because not only was he breaking the Sabbath, but he was even calling God his own Father, making himself equal with God.

When Jesus faces His accusers, things go from bad to worse. Not only is He violating their Sabbath traditions, He is claiming to be equal with God Himself. The religious community was incensed over such arrogance.

There are some people who thrive in an environment of order. In many ways, this is how the religious leaders had come to view God’s Law. By carefully adhering to their traditions—those of God and a few they made up—they hoped to maintain some measure of order and civility in a fragile political and religious climate. Jesus threatened all of that.

As much as we like to think we’d be on the side of Jesus, there’s a good chance we’d join His opponents. We’ve come to rely on law expecting order to follow. We deeply desire a society of morals, of righteousness—and rightly so. Problems emerge when we—like Jesus’ opponents—hope to engender morality through our own obedience. Years ago a Christian leader posed the question: “What would it look like if Satan took over a city?”

“Over half a century ago, Presbyterian minister Donald Grey Barnhouse offered his own scenario in his weekly sermon that was also broadcast nationwide on CBS radio.

Barnhouse speculated that if Satan took over Philadelphia (the city where Barnhouse pastored), all of the bars would be closed, pornography banished, and pristine streets would be filled with tidy pedestrians who smiled at each other. There would be no swearing. The children would say, “Yes, sir” and “No ma’am,” and the churches would be full every Sunday…where Christ is not preached.” (Michael Horton, Christless Christianity: The Alternative Gospel of the American Church)

The gospel isn’t just an assault on our immorality. It’s also an assault on our righteousness—or, more specifically, our self-righteousness. The gospel tells us that no sin is so great that the cross cannot cover it, but it also proclaims that no sin is so small that our religious obedience alone can cover it. So, in a way, the paralyzed man had an advantage over the religious crowd: he knew he was sick. The religious community had spent so much time clothed in their own self-righteousness that they failed to recognize that they were afflicted with a profound spiritual sickness.

Jesus responds with an extended speech designed to defend His right to perform miraculous works on the Sabbath. There are three distinct elements to this speech. First, Jesus insists that His authority comes directly from God. This means that He can grant healing and life to those He wishes:

¹⁹ So Jesus said to them, “Truly, truly, I say to you, the Son can do nothing of his own accord, but only what he sees the Father doing. For whatever the Father does, that the Son does likewise. ²⁰ For the Father loves the Son and shows him all that he himself is doing. And greater works than these will he show him, so that you may marvel. ²¹ For as the Father raises the dead and gives them life, so also the Son gives life to whom he will. ²² The Father judges no one, but has given all judgment to the Son, ²³ that all may honor the Son, just as they honor the Father. Whoever does not honor the Son does not honor the Father who sent him. ²⁴ Truly, truly, I say to you, whoever hears my word and believes him who sent me has eternal life. He does not come into judgment, but has passed from death to life.

²⁵ “Truly, truly, I say to you, an hour is coming, and is now here, when the dead will hear the voice of the Son of God, and those who hear will live. ²⁶ For as the Father has life in himself, so he has granted the Son also to have life in himself. ²⁷ And he has given him authority to execute judgment, because he is the Son of Man. ²⁸ Do not marvel at this, for an hour is coming when all who are in the tombs will hear his voice ²⁹ and come out, those who have done good to the resurrection of life, and those who have done evil to the resurrection of judgment.

Second, Jesus brings forth “witnesses” to testify on His behalf—including John the Baptist, but most significantly God Himself:

³⁰ “I can do nothing on my own. As I hear, I judge, and my judgment is just, because I seek not my own will but the will of him who sent me. ³¹ If I alone bear witness about myself, my testimony is not deemed true. ³² There is another who bears witness about me, and I know that the testimony that he bears about me is true. ³³ You sent to John, and he has borne witness to the truth. ³⁴ Not that the testimony that I receive is from man, but I say these things so that you may be saved. ³⁵ He was a burning and shining lamp, and you were willing to rejoice for a while in his light. ³⁶ But the testimony that I have is greater than that of John. For the works that the Father has given me to accomplish, the very works that I am doing, bear witness about me that the Father has sent me. ³⁷ And the Father who sent me has himself borne witness about me. His voice you have never heard, his form you have never seen, ³⁸ and you do not have his word abiding in you, for you do not believe the one whom he has sent.

Finally, Jesus turns the tables on His opponents. The problem isn’t with Jesus; the problem lies with them:

³⁹ You search the Scriptures because you think that in them you have eternal life; and it is they that bear witness about me, ⁴⁰ yet you refuse to come to me that you may have life. ⁴¹ I do not receive glory from people. ⁴² But I know that you do not have the love of God within you. ⁴³ I have come in my Father’s name, and you do not receive me. If another comes in his own name, you will receive him. ⁴⁴ How can you believe, when you receive glory from one another and do not seek the glory that comes from the only God? ⁴⁵ Do not think that I will accuse you to the Father. There is one who accuses you: Moses, on whom you have set your hope. ⁴⁶ For if you believed Moses, you would believe me; for he wrote of me. ⁴⁷ But if you do not believe his writings, how will you believe my words?”

Do you see what Jesus is saying? The Bible isn’t a moral code. It’s a story about Jesus. Everything they’d been searching for is now standing among them: this is God up close. If we treat the Bible as if it is a rulebook, we become angry when those rules are threatened or broken. Jesus says that the book is about Him, about His power to save.

Jesus is therefore more than just another teacher. Other religions have holy books: the Qur’an, the Gita, the I Ching, etc. But whether or not I find their poetry moving, the books offer little more than moral guidance. Jesus is saying that the Bible is more than that. Other religious teachers point to the authority of the book. In Christianity, the holy book points to Jesus Himself. While religion is largely about “teachings,” Christianity is about a person. This is why, as C.S. Lewis so famously insisted, we can’t simply dismiss Jesus as another moral teacher—another Ghandi.

“A man who was merely a man and said the sort of things Jesus said would not be a great moral teacher. He would either be a lunatic-on the level with the man who says he is a poached egg-or else he would be the Devil of Hell. You must make your choice. Either this man was, and is, the Son of God: or else a madman or something worse. You can shut Him up for a fool, you can spit at Him and kill Him as a demon; or you can fall at His feet and call Him Lord and God. But let us not come with any patronizing nonsense about His being a great human teacher. He has not left that open to us. He did not intend to.” (C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity, p. 56)

Jesus can never just be your “teacher” because that’s simply not what His life was ultimately about. He came instead to reveal God’s character, and pay the penalty for our sins so that through His guidance, we can be conformed to this same character. That’s a goal that good intentions can’t meet. That’s the power of the gospel.

“Institutional Man” (John 5:1-15)

Posted on October 28, 2013 by Christopher J Wiles

John 5:1-15 After this there was a feast of the Jews, and Jesus went up to Jerusalem.

² Now there is in Jerusalem by the Sheep Gate a pool, in Aramaic called Bethesda, which has five roofed colonnades. ³ In these lay a multitude of invalids—blind, lame, and paralyzed. ⁴ ⁵ One man was there who had been an invalid for thirty-eight years.

They say necessity is the mother of invention. But when one’s needs remain unmet, necessity becomes the grandmother of desperation. John gives us a sparing number of details. In fact, it wasn’t until nearly 400 years after John’s death that scribes started including a clarifying remark. Some English Bibles include verse 4: “for an angel of the Lord went down at certain seasons into the pool, and stirred up the water; whoever then first, after the stirring up of the water, stepped in was made well from whatever disease with which he was afflicted.”

This small detail completes the scene. Apparently it was believed that from time to time, an angel would stir the waters of the pool. The first one in received total healing. Did it work? We don’t know—but then again, maybe it didn’t have to. Desperation can make a man do strange things, and shape and distort his soul like clay.

Jesus finds a man who’d spent 38 years in the shadow of desperation. For all we know, this man lived his whole life in this condition. In today’s world, a physical handicap like this would be a setback. In this man’s world, it was a death sentence. A paralyzed man had to rely on others for everything. Food. Hygeine. And over time, pity came to outweigh hope.

INSTITUTIONAL MAN

⁶ When Jesus saw him lying there and knew that he had already been there a long time, he said to him, “Do you want to be healed?” ⁷ The sick man answered him, “Sir, I have no one to put me into the pool when the water is stirred up, and while I am going another steps down before me.”

Jesus, we’re told, “knew what was in man” (John 2:25). So His question seems strange. “Do you want to get well?” But the man never exactly answers the question, does he? Instead the man offers an excuse. He has no helpers, only competitors. It’s here that for the first time, the man’s sickness begins to take shape.

We may not be able to draw a straight line between first-century paralysis and present-day desire, but that doesn’t prevent us from defining ourselves by our flaws. If you had to define yourself by your worst experience, what would it be? See, there’s some words that package a whole litany of stories and emotions in just a few syllables. Single. Infertility. Alone. Divorce. Cancer. These words haunt us. Taunt us. Betray our confidence that the world could ever be good to us.

On a long enough timeline, these words become strangely familiar—if not comforting. The film The Shawshank Redemption tells the story of Andy Dufresne, imprisoned for a crime he didn’t commit. He befriends his fellow inmates, including Red who reminds him that the world inside is not at all like the world outside. Stay inside long enough, he warns, and the world outside loses luster. He calls this being “institutionalized:”

“These walls are funny. First you hate ’em, then you get used to ’em. Enough time passes, you get so you depend on them. That’s institutionalized…They send you here for life, and that’s exactly what they take. The part that counts, anyway.”

For the “institutionalized,” the condition matters more than the cure. Loneliness, divorce, cancer—these become sources of my identity. “Do you want to get well?” Jesus asks. His question is simple, though haunting: “Are you prepared to let your life be defined by something more than this?” The “institutionalized” person gets used to getting by on pity. The kind words of others become the only reminder of being alive.

Jesus offers more.

GET UP…WALK

⁸ Jesus said to him, “Get up, take up your bed, and walk.”

⁹ And at once the man was healed, and he took up his bed and walked. Now that day was the Sabbath.

The Sabbath referred to the day when God finished His work of creation. For devout Jews, it was meant to be a day of rest. But the Sabbath is also used to refer to a time in the future when there would be a true rest, a better rest for all of God’s people (Hebrews 4:9-10). “Get up,” Jesus says. “Walk.” The whole scene hints at a time in the future when all of God’s followers would be granted the power to stand—not just from earthly disease but from death itself.

If Jesus embodies this kind of power, if Jesus offers this kind of promise, why would I pursue identity elsewhere? Hope replaces fear. Wonder replaces doubt. If suffering and death are going to be reversed—nay, eliminated—then my identity is not found in my flaws, but in the spectacular promise of resurrection. I “get up;” I “walk”—not because of a strength that lies within me, but a strength that is given to me through the miraculous provision of the gospel.

SPIRITUAL SICKNESS

Unfortunately, in the first century there were those that were more concerned about Jesus’ Sabbath violation. Resting on the Sabbath wasn’t just an option; it was a strict requirement. The religious authorities were too preoccupied with maintaining order than in celebrating the miracle. So they pursued answers from the man:

¹⁰ So the Jews said to the man who had been healed, “It is the Sabbath, and it is not lawful for you to take up your bed.” ¹¹ But he answered them, “The man who healed me, that man said to me, ‘Take up your bed, and walk.'” ¹² They asked him, “Who is the man who said to you, ‘Take up your bed and walk’?” ¹³ Now the man who had been healed did not know who it was, for Jesus had withdrawn, as there was a crowd in the place.

The man can’t give them the answers they want. It wasn’t until later that Jesus attached His name to the man’s experience:

¹⁴ Afterward Jesus found him in the temple and said to him, “See, you are well! Sin no more, that nothing worse may happen to you.” ¹⁵ The man went away and told the Jews that it was Jesus who had healed him.

There’s something unsettling about this final encounter. Stop sinning? Something worse? Was this a threat? Could Jesus have meant that the man’s earlier sickness was some sort of cosmic punishment? Suffering is a product of a sinful world, but as Jesus makes clear later, not all suffering is a direct result of human sin (John 9:3). Not that this makes Jesus’ message any less troubling.

Think about it. What if Jesus could give you exactly what you wanted? Would that really make you happy? If your greatest problem is loneliness, would a new relationship really make you happy? If your greatest problem was a lack of income, would money really make you happy? So you see what Jesus is saying: Don’t assume that being paralyzed was your greatest problem. If the problem was only physical, a physical cure would solve everything. But the problem—for him, for you, for me—is more than that. External cures won’t help an internal problem. Our problem is spiritual. Our problem is sin. Only the gospel can cure this inner, spiritual sickness.

The most shocking news of all is that on the cross, we see exactly what Jesus meant by “something worse.” On the cross we see the shocking nature of God’s just and righteous anger at human sin. On the cross, God demands blood. On the cross, God offers His own.

Like this man, my identity can be wrapped up in my own circumstances. It can be wrapped up in my choices, or even the choices of others. The gospel says that I am defined not by my circumstances, my failures, or my flaws, but by the unending love of an unfailing Savior.

Which defines you?

The Gospel Goes Up to Eleven (John 3:26-36)

Posted on October 22, 2013 by Christopher J Wiles

The film This is Spinal Tap follows the exploits of heavy metal group Spinal Tap. The film is shot “mockumentary” style. That is, it’s a comedy masquerading as a documentary, much like the television series “The Office.” In my favorite scene, the interviewer speaks with Nigel (the band’s guitarist) about their amplifiers:

Nigel: The numbers all go to eleven. Look, right across the board, eleven, eleven, eleven and…

Interviewer: Oh, I see. And most amps go up to ten?

Nigel : Exactly.

Interviewer: Does that mean it’s louder? Is it any louder?

Nigel: Well, it’s one louder, isn’t it? It’s not ten. You see, most blokes, you know, will be playing at ten. You’re on ten here, all the way up, all the way up, all the way up, you’re on ten on your guitar. Where can you go from there? Where?

Interviewer: I don’t know.

Nigel: Nowhere. Exactly. What we do is, if we need that extra push over the cliff, you know what we do?

Interviewer: Put it up to eleven.

Nigel: Eleven. Exactly. One louder.

Interviewer: Why don’t you just make ten louder and make ten be the top number and make that a little louder?

Nigel: ……These go to eleven.

There was a time when John the Baptist faced a popularity contest. Jesus’ other biographers tell us that John was originally a pastor’s kid, but later in life emerged from the wilderness smelling like Grizzly Adams and talking like Billy Graham. His major achievements weren’t about himself. They were about his cousin, Jesus. But as Jesus’ popularity grew, John the Baptist’s popularity began to fade:

John 3:26-36 ²⁶ And they came to John and said to him, “Rabbi, he who was with you across the Jordan, to whom you bore witness–look, he is baptizing, and all are going to him.” ²⁷ John answered, “A person cannot receive even one thing unless it is given him from heaven. ²⁸ You yourselves bear me witness, that I said, ‘I am not the Christ, but I have been sent before him.’ ²⁹ The one who has the bride is the bridegroom. The friend of the bridegroom, who stands and hears him, rejoices greatly at the bridegroom’s voice. Therefore this joy of mine is now complete. ³⁰ He must increase, but I must decrease.”

Too often life becomes nothing more than a big popularity contest. We fool ourselves into thinking ambition is the fuel for our achievement. We live and die by our promotions and our accolades. But John the Baptist wanted none of this. His whole life was spent pointing toward someone else, someone far, far greater than he. And it was of this person that John said, “He must increase, but I must decrease.” At Tri-State Fellowship, our own High School ministry uses this verse as the basis for their name: “Amp,” short for “Amplify.” Our students learn that John the Baptist offers a very different message than that of the world. In a world that thrives on self-promotion, John the Baptist offers a message of self-denial. In a world of self-satisfaction, John the Baptist offers a message of self-sacrifice.

The things our world offers—pleasure, wealth, satisfaction—these are all the things that beg—nay, scream—for our attention and our devotion. But amidst all the clamor and noise, the gospel is even louder. The gospel goes up to eleven.

John the Baptist continues to address his lingering supporters:

³¹ He who comes from above is above all. He who is of the earth belongs to the earth and speaks in an earthly way. He who comes from heaven is above all. ³² He bears witness to what he has seen and heard, yet no one receives his testimony. ³³ Whoever receives his testimony sets his seal to this, that God is true. ³⁴ For he whom God has sent utters the words of God, for he gives the Spirit without measure. ³⁵ The Father loves the Son and has given all things into his hand. ³⁶ Whoever believes in the Son has eternal life; whoever does not obey the Son shall not see life, but the wrath of God remains on him.

John drives home that Jesus is far more significant than he could ever be. And John—that is, John the author of this gospel—wants to include these statements for a strategic purpose. John had been assembling his gospel in the city of Ephesus, a city where Jesus’ later followers knew only some of the basics they’d heard from John the Baptist (Acts 18:25). John the author wanted to fulfill John the Baptist’s mission: to point people to something greater than the fragments of knowledge they possessed.

In our own world, we face many challenges. Many things will compete for our attention. The desire for achievement, the seduction of “celebrity.” Other things will wound us deeply. But the common thread in all of these things was simply this: they focus on ourselves. On our best days, we like to think that our lives are vibrant, successful, full of life. But John was onto something important: nothing is more damaging than self-absorption.

The world around me, the thoughts within me—these things are all ramped up to the level of a “ten.” But the gospel goes up to eleven.

Are you listening?

Born Again (John 3:1-21)

Posted on October 21, 2013 by Christopher J Wiles

What do you think of when you hear the words “born again?” For me, I can’t help but think of Ned Flanders, the uptight religious neighbor of Homer Simpson. An all-around nice guy, but someone whose religious views and narrow moral code are a constant annoyance.

But who needs to be born again? We might think of those who come from a shady background who need to “see the light.” It’s certainly not for the educated, or the sophisticated. And it’s certainly not a need for people like Ned Flanders. If you’ve grown up in church, there’s a possibility that you think you’ve got the Jesus thing figured out. You grew up in Youth Group. You go to church every week. You listen to Hillsong in the car. You even attend a small group. What else is there?

Let’s meet Nicodemus.

John 3:1-21 Now there was a man of the Pharisees named Nicodemus, a ruler of the Jews. ² This man came to Jesus by night and said to him, “Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher come from God, for no one can do these signs that you do unless God is with him.”

Remember how earlier Jesus had basically started a small riot in the Temple? It was a public way of saying: “The Messiah is now here.” The religious leaders wouldn’t have missed this—and certainly not one so prominent as Nicodemus, “a ruler of the Jews.” So it’s understandable that Nicodemus would come under cover of darkness—why risk his reputation by being seen talking to this rabble-rouser?

³ Jesus answered him, “Truly, truly, I say to you, unless one is born again he cannot see the kingdom of God.” ⁴ Nicodemus said to him, “How can a man be born when he is old? Can he enter a second time into his mother’s womb and be born?” ⁵ Jesus answered, “Truly, truly, I say to you, unless one is born of water and the Spirit, he cannot enter the kingdom of God. ⁶ That which is born of the flesh is flesh, and that which is born of the Spirit is spirit. ⁷ Do not marvel that I said to you, ‘You must be born again.’ ⁸ The wind blows where it wishes, and you hear its sound, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit.”

Nicodemus had spent the better part of his life serving the Temple. Yet he fails to grasp what Jesus is saying. Jesus isn’t offering another religious program to attend. He’s proclaiming radical spiritual renewal: being “born again.”

Do you see the irony? The Temple was the one place where you’d expect to experience the presence of God. Yet for Nicodemus, the Temple was what he used to hide from God. And we live in the same danger. It’s very easy to get caught up in church activity and the “busyness” of our faith—and miss the radically transforming power of Jesus. In fact, in many ways it’s easier to hide from God in church than in a brothel(!). In the latter, it’s easy to know that you’re far from God. But in Church, you can hide from God while looking like a pillar in your community—a man of great respect. But inside you are dying. You have all the religious language, but none of the spiritual intimacy.

⁹ Nicodemus said to him, “How can these things be?” ¹⁰ Jesus answered him, “Are you the teacher of Israel and yet you do not understand these things? ¹¹ Truly, truly, I say to you, we speak of what we know, and bear witness to what we have seen, but you do not receive our testimony. ¹² If I have told you earthly things and you do not believe, how can you believe if I tell you heavenly things? ¹³ No one has ascended into heaven except he who descended from heaven, the Son of Man. ¹⁴ And as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, ¹⁵ that whoever believes in him may have eternal life.

Nicodemus is still baffled. So Jesus does what He does best: He tells Him a story. In the film V for Vendetta, an police inspector is trying to unravel a massive governmental conspiracy. As his search nears its end, he meets with an unnamed informant. “I believe you have some information for me,” he says. “No, inspector,” the informant replies. “You have all the information already. All the facts are inside your head. What you want—what you really need—is a story.” Nicodemus didn’t need another sermon. He was one of the smartest men in Israel. No; what he needed was a story. He needed some way of organizing the separate pieces into a cohesive whole.

Jesus tells him the story of the snakes in the desert. Israel, during their years of wandering, was afflicted by a plague of poisonous snakes. To deepen their trust in Him, God tells their leader Moses to craft a bronze snake and attach it to his staff. If you were bitten, you had only to look at this raised staff and be cured. Do you understand what Jesus is saying? He’s saying there’s something wrong with each of us—something poisonous inside our hearts—that no amount of religious duty can cure. John goes on to editorialize this very point:

¹⁶ “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life. ¹⁷ For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him. ¹⁸ Whoever believes in him is not condemned, but whoever does not believe is condemned already, because he has not believed in the name of the only Son of God. ¹⁹ And this is the judgment: the light has come into the world, and people loved the darkness rather than the light because their works were evil. ²⁰ For everyone who does wicked things hates the light and does not come to the light, lest his works should be exposed. ²¹ But whoever does what is true comes to the light, so that it may be clearly seen that his works have been carried out in God.”

Our hearts are darkened. Poisonous. The great tragedy is that men like Nicodemus had become numb to this fact because their lives were so clearly defined through religious observance. But Jesus says: That’s not good enough. You need to be born again. Into the darkness of man’s heart, God speaks a wisdom unsearchable, a love unthinkable, a grace incalculable, and a mercy unending. When Jesus is exalted in His death and resurrection, the poison is drawn from the wounds of our soul, and into those same wounds Jesus pours the water of His Spirit.

Are you like Nicodemus? Have you been active in church activities your whole life, but have no true experience of the gospel? Don’t let moments like this one pass you by. Today could be your day to experience God up close.

Seriously

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