Monthly Archives: August 2010
Jesus has come to be lowly, so you must beware of pride (Mark 9:42–50)
A woman cowers on the cliffs overlooking a deep mountain lake. An angry crowd has gathered to witness her terrifying death. Situated on the edge of the cliff, a massive disk-shaped stone stands on its side, a hole cut in the center. The executioners drag the trembling woman to the stone, force her head through the hole, and bind her in place with a rope. And then, with a single mighty push, they tip the stone over the edge. She tumbles end over end—sees sky, water, sky, water, sky—and then water.
In a dimly lit hut on the edge of a nearby village, a man drips with sweat as he studies a meat cleaver resting on a rough table. He sends his left hand toward the knife, forcing his fingers to close over the handle. Through a sheer force of will, he holds his right wrist to the table. The cleaver shakes in his hand; the man bites his lip; and a scream comes as it hacks through his wrist. Blood pools on the floor. And the man is not finished. Next will come his right foot, and then—he stares dully at the tiny sharp knife across the table—his right eye.
Sixty miles away, a garbage dump smolders outside of a city, the refuse slowly burning away. A naked man lies on his side, his eyes half open, his neck broken. His consciousness returns. How long has he been here? He sees well enough to know that his lower body is rotting away. And then he feels it. A small patch of skin on his hip swells, then splits, a handful of maggots emerging from the festering wound. He would scream in horror if his voice could be raised beyond a croak. A rogue tongue of flame licks across his arm, singing the hair and peeling the skin. He can’t move; his death will be long and slow and hideous.
These images are vivid and cruel, and I didn’t make them up.
Jesus did.
Last week, we read how Jesus had predicted his coming suffering, death, and resurrection. His disciples thought that he would be a conquering political Messiah, Glenn Beck on steroids, who would restore his people to their Jewish heritage and drive out the corrupting rule of the Romans. That the Messiah would suffer and die didn’t fit into their paradigm of how the world works. It wasn’t a part of their “glory story.” So Jesus scolded them for trying to look the greatest and for excluding other followers of his who weren’t a part of their little clique. He modeled a concern for useless people and valued the contributions of those who weren’t a part of the Twelve.
Now, Jesus issues a series of warnings relating to this elitist attitude. We’ve seen several times in Mark’s gospel that often, people who think they are “insiders”—faithful disciples of Jesus—are in fact “outsiders.” Jesus brings this topic up again and counsels those who think they’re on the insider track to God’s kingdom.
His first warning is the story of the execution—the stone and the lake. It would be better to undergo this awful fate than to cause “one of these little ones who believe in me to stumble,” Jesus says. The punishment for such a person will be extreme and horrifying. Similarly, he lays out a series of three parallel proverbs. He tells his disciples to cut off their hands, feet, and eyes rather than permit anything to cause them to stumble. “It is better for you to enter the kingdom of God” crippled or blind than “to be thrown into hell, ‘where their worm does not die and the fire is not quenched.’” He quotes the final verse of the book of Isaiah, where God subjects those who rebel against him to eternal torment. Jesus is not afraid to preach hellfire and brimstone—not even against his own disciples.
The point is clear. Jesus’ disciples must do whatever it takes to cut off and tear out the proud, elitist attitudes festering in their hearts. If they do not, it will lead to their own downfall and possibly the downfall of other “little ones.” And God will respond appropriately with righteous, unquenchable fury.
As he dwells on the imagery of the fires of hell, Jesus utters a cryptic statement: “For everyone will be salted with fire.” He’s probably thinking of the sacrifices that the people of Israel were commanded to make to God, sacrifices that were seasoned with salt (Leviticus 2:13). Now, he says, each of his disciples must be “a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God” (Romans 12:1). But if someone who claims to be his disciple becomes corrupted with pride, his “salt” will have “lost its saltiness” and be useless as seasoning. The sacrifice will be ruined. Such a person cannot honor God.
So Jesus tells his disciples, “Have salt in yourselves, and be at peace with one another.” Their Lord will soon face suffering; they should not imagine that they are any better than he. They must do what the Holy Spirit commands through the apostle Paul: “Live in harmony with one another. Do not be haughty, but associate with the lowly. Never be conceited” (Romans 12:16). There can be no rivalry, no one-upping, no boasting, no cliques in God’s kingdom. So beware of pride, a nasty and despicable sin. If you treat the lowly as garbage, you’ll quite literally be thrown out with the trash.
Jesus was lowly in his suffering, and in his suffering he served the lowly. If you are united with him, you too are a servant of the lowly and a “little one” yourself. Be glad that this is where true greatness is found.
The greatest poem ever written
1
If when Don Cupid’s dart
Doth wound a heart,
We hide our grief
And shun relief,
The smart increaseth on that score;
For wounds unsearcht but rankle more.
2
Then if we whine, look pale,
And tell our tale,
Men are in pain
For us again;
So, neither speaking doth become
The lover’s state, nor being dumb.
3
When this I do descry,
Then thus think I:
Love is the fart
Of every heart;
It pains a man when ’tis kept close,
And others doth offend when ’tis let loose.
—Sir John Suckling, 1609–1642
Jesus has come to be lowly, so you must welcome the lowly (Mark 9:30–41)
I’d like to think that in Western culture, we respect and value the lowly and helpless, unlike many past and present cultures. It’s certainly the case that we’ve made progress; for example, slavery was made illegal in the 19th century, and there is an appreciation for the plight of the poor and marginalized across the world. Yet our values still don’t line up with Jesus’ values—not even in the church. Let’s consider this passage and the Jesus whom it reveals.
In chapter 8, it was finally revealed to the disciples that Jesus is the long-awaited Messiah, the King sent from God to deliver his people. In the following chapters, Jesus tells his disciples three times that he has come to suffer, die, and be raised to life again. Each time he tells them, they respond by failing to understand. This is the second time Jesus warns them that he has come to suffer, and Mark records that “they did not understand the saying, and were afraid to ask him.” In their worldview, glory and victory are valuable, not by a lowly and suffering “Messiah.” What Jesus is saying might as well be gibberish; it doesn’t fit into their paradigm of the world God has made. What they do recognize is that whatever Jesus means, it doesn’t sound good. So they’re afraid to ask him what he’s talking about; they’d rather stay in the dark on this one.
Their ignorance of Jesus’ mission becomes clear once they arrive in Capernaum. After entering the house where they’re staying, Jesus asks them, “What were you discussing on the way?” Like a troop of guilty children, they keep silent, “for on the way they had argued with one another about who was the greatest.” Who knows exactly what that conversation looked like! Perhaps Peter was showing off his charisma, or James wanted the other disciples to see that he was the most intelligent, or Nathaniel wanted to prove that he was the strongest. I suppose it’s encouraging that they feel ashamed. They’re beginning to recognize that Jesus isn’t too impressed when people start bragging on themselves.
Jesus sits them down for a teaching moment. He tells them, “If anyone would be first, he must be last of all and servant of all.” His ethical system is a paradox, upside-down from everything they’ve been taught to believe. He proves his point by calling in a little child. In that culture, children weren’t valued until they became old enough to work. Until then, they were simply mouths to feed, a strain on the household budget. But Jesus picks up and holds the worthless little runt closely to himself. He tells them, “Whoever receives one such child in my name receives me, and whoever receives me, receives not me but him who sent me.”
Jesus identifies himself in a special way with the lowly, with the useless and worthless people around you and me. He says that true greatness is not found in associating with popular or charming or productive people; it’s found in serving the worthless people.
This isn’t just contrary to the mindset of the ancient world. It’s contrary to our mindset as well. In Western culture, we don’t value the unborn; they’re an inconvenience, particularly if they’re disabled. They’re prime targets for abortion. We view immigrants from Mexico as illegal scoundrels here to steal our jobs. We think of children as either a hindrance to our happiness or a tool to make us happy; we don’t value them for their own sake. We love the idea of sending money to Bono so he can help starving kids in Africa, but we skirt around the poor and homeless in our own neighborhoods. We avoid interacting with people who are stupid, unattractive, poorly dressed, or socially awkward. We believe that the key to greatness is to put such people out of mind; if we associate with them, others won’t think we’re great any more!
Jesus does a wonderful thing here. Because he was lowly, despised, and rejected, he identifies with the lowly in this world. What greater role could you and I play than to welcome him—and therefore welcome the God who sent him? Because Jesus came to suffer, he rerouted the path to greatness, ensuring that you need to serve the lowly to become great.
One of Jesus’ disciples, John, unintentionally provides another example of wrong thinking about greatness. He tells Jesus, “Teacher, we saw someone casting out demons in your name, and we tried to stop him, because he was not following us.” Like many fundamentalist Christians, John loves the idea of separation—he has convinced himself that the only valid followers of Christ are the people in his elite clique. He looks down on this “lowly” exorcist who is not part of Jesus’ “inner circle.” But Jesus contradicts him, saying, “Do not stop him.” He gives three reasons why you and I shouldn’t stop another genuine follower of Christ just because he or she is from a different tradition. First, such a person will represent Christ favorably. We need as many people as possible to speak well of Jesus! Second, such a person is on the same team as you. As Jesus says, “The one who is not against us is for us.” Third, God approves of their genuine servanthood. They won’t go unrewarded. So if God approves, what right do you and I have to reject them? There is no room for cliques in the body of Christ. We should not enjoy separating from other believers; we should only do it (reluctantly) in cases where Christ and his gospel are under attack.
Because Jesus came as a suffering Messiah rather than a triumphalistic Messiah, his mission pierces the heart of our hubris. “He was despised and rejected by men” (Isaiah 53:3), and would we expect better for ourselves? Would we join the world in despising and rejecting the lowly? Will we despise and reject other believers just because they’re not in our cliques?
Jesus has come to prove his ability and demand your dependence (Mark 9:14–29)
This past June, an American man was captured by Pakistani authorities as he tried to sneak into Afghanistan. The man’s name was Gary Faulkner, and his mission was to decapitate Osama bin Laden. When Faulkner was caught, his only terrorist-hunting equipment was a pistol, a dagger, and night-vision goggles. Needless to say, his chance of success was slim.
But what if Gary Faulkner hadn’t entered Pakistan as a one-man army? What if the U.S. Army had approached him and offered tactical support from satellites and drones, and equipped him with powerful weapons and hardware? His odds for success would have increased tremendously if he accepted. But to be empowered in this way, he would first have to become dependent on the U.S. government, and I imagine that’s not something that Faulkner would be willing to do.
Jesus’ disciples faced a similar dilemma when encountering an enemy far more powerful than any terrorist. Sadly, they didn’t fare much better at defeating this foe than Faulkner did at killing bin Laden.
Jesus and his three closest disciples, Peter, James, and John, have just descended from the mountain where Jesus has given them a sneak peek of his glory in an event known as the Transfiguration. When they arrive at the foot of the mountain, they are snapped back into reality as they face a chaotic crowd riled up by fierce arguments between the rest of Jesus’ disciples and some experts in the law of Moses. Jesus asks what’s going on, and a man volunteers an answer. “Teacher, I brought my son to you, for he has a spirit that makes him mute,” he says. That’s just the beginning. The spirit also causes his son to fall into severe seizures. The man brought his son to see Jesus, but since Jesus was up on the mountain, the man had asked the disciples to cast out the unclean spirit. Now, Jesus had given them authority to do this (Mark 6:7), but inexplicably, they haven’t able to drive out the demon. Now all the religious teachers, looking for an excuse to discredit Jesus, are stirring up conflict against his hapless disciples.
Jesus is exasperated with the situation. “O faithless generation,” he says, “how long am I to be with you? How long am I to bear with you?” He knows why the spirit won’t be driven out. The pervasive unbelief of the religious leaders, the crowds, and even his own disciples has denied them access to his authority as the divine Messiah.
Jesus orders the father, “Bring him to me.” When he does, the unclean spirit defies Jesus by inducing another seizure, so that his battered body is thrashing on the ground, foam dribbling from his mouth. The father explains that this situation has continued since he was a little child. The demon has used these seizures to throw the man’s son into fire and into water in a cruel attempt to kill him. Watching yet another awful seizure, the man pleads with Jesus, “If you can do anything, have compassion on us and help us!”
“‘If you can’!” Jesus is incredulous. “All things are possible for one who believes.”
That’s the real problem here, you see. All the man sees is the supernatural entity gripping his son; all he knows is that he is powerless to stop this malevolent force. He doesn’t see Jesus’ divine authority. He isn’t sure that Jesus has the power to put an end to the spirit’s control of his son. But at Jesus’ words, his eyes are opened. He finally sees what’s really going on here. He cries out, “I believe!” and then, “Help my unbelief!”
If there is a verse in the Bible that better captures the agonizing tension of a Christian’s walk with God, I don’t know what it is. You say that he has power, but you can barely bring yourself to really believe it, deep down. You’ve got nothing more than a tiny mustard seed of faith.
But Jesus is satisfied with even a mustard seed. The crowd is growing in size, and it’s time to act now. He says to the demon, “You mute and deaf spirit, I command you, come out of him and never enter him again.” The boy convulses and shrieks, then lies still, corpse-like. The crowd is silent. Finally, a few people begin to whisper their worst fears: “He is dead.” But Jesus reaches down and takes his hand; the boy revives and stands on his feet, as though he were rising from the dead.
The scene shifts to the inside of a house, later in the day. Jesus’ disciples are questioning him, “Why could we not cast it out?” Jesus replies, “This kind cannot be driven out by anything but prayer.” A demon of such power won’t leave on one’s own authority. A disciple of Jesus must rely on prayer to accomplish what he himself cannot do.
In the moment of crisis, the boy’s father had understood this. He had asked Jesus for help to end the oppression of his son, but Jesus showed him that his greatest need was not deliverance from oppression but rather deliverance from unbelief.
Our culture urges you and me with platitudes such as “believe in yourself, and you can do anything.” Jesus tells us that this is a lie. Anyone who is a disciple of Jesus will face spiritual barriers that he or she cannot overcome. You will face suffering and conflict that you cannot handle. When the chips are down, who do you rely on? Is it yourself, or is it Jesus?
Jesus demands that you depend on him by spending less time flattering yourself and more time praying. He is not demanding your dependence merely to subjugate you but rather to empower you. He’s proved his ability, so you can give up your illusions of your own ability.
Jesus came to suffer, so you will too (Mark 9:1–13)
One of my favorite TV shows is The Beverly Hillbillies. If you’ve never seen an episode, the premise of the show is that the backwoods Clampett family from Tennessee discovers oil on their property, gets rich, and moves to Beverly Hills in California. There, they are befuddled by modern culture. In an early episode, a young man promises the beautiful Elly May Clampett that he will “give her a ring,” meaning that he will call her on the phone later. Of course, the Clampetts take it for a promise of marriage, which leads to a series of misunderstandings and eventually a brief yet colorful feud with the man’s extended family.
Chronic misunderstandings can be hilarious when they’re happening on TV, but when you’re trying to communicate a message of vital importance to your friends, they bring nothing but frustration. It should be no surprise that Jesus’ disciples are once again going to play the role of the Clampett family—convinced they understand what’s going on, but in reality hopelessly confused.
In recounting the event of Jesus’ transfiguration, Mark connects it with the message Jesus had spoken just six days prior. He has promised that his kingdom will soon come in power, and now he’s going to give his “inner inner circle” of disciples (Peter, James, and John) a sneak peek of this future glory. They ascend a high mountain together, and there, the layers of Jesus’ humble earthiness are peeled away; his glory as the Son of God breaks through, and he shines bright like the sun. Even his clothes glow “intensely white, as no one on earth could bleach them.” And to top it off, two of the most pivotal figures in Israelite history, Moses and Elijah, appear out of nowhere and begin holding a conversation with Jesus.
I’m not sure what Jesus’ three disciples were expecting to happen on that mountain, but this definitely exceeds it. They are unable to comprehend what is going on; it has overwhelmed their senses and they are petrified at first. Finally, Peter shouts at Jesus, “Rabbi, it is good that we are here. Let us make three tents, one for you and one for Moses and one for Elijah.” Mark tells us what’s going on in his head: “He did not know what to say, for they were terrified.” Apparently, James and John are shocked into silence, but that’s not the way Peter handles the unimaginable. When he is flabbergasted, Peter responds by blurting out the first thing that pops into his mind. I guess he just wants to be useful.
Now at this point, the purpose of the transfiguration is revealed. A cloud envelops the mountaintop, and a divine voice speaks to them, saying, “This is my beloved Son; listen to him.” The cloud lifts, and the glory vanishes; only Jesus remains with them, as he was before. He leads them down the mountain and warns them not to speak of this event until he has “risen from the dead.” Until then, any announcement of Jesus’ glory is premature. This is the main reason why Jesus orders people to keep quiet about him—his glory is not to be fully revealed until he has died and risen again.
Once again, his disciples miss the point. When they caught a glimpse of his glory, and it was announced that he was the “beloved Son” of God, they should have understood that this was a wake-up call for them, intended to shock them out of their spiritual dullness. The transfiguration ended with the words, “Listen to him!” But they aren’t. They’re “questioning what this rising from the dead might mean” even though Jesus had said plainly what it means—that he will have to suffer first before his glorious kingdom comes (8:31).
Yes, Jesus’ disciples have misinterpreted the transfiguration. They’re high on what they’ve just seen; they’re convinced that the Messiah has come in glory, about to usher in a holy and righteous Jewish empire. Jesus’ predictions that the Messiah will suffer, die, and rise from the dead are just anomalous data points that his disciples have chosen to ignore. They only have one nagging doubt, which they bring up to Jesus: “Why do the scribes say that first Elijah must come?” They’d just caught a glimpse of Elijah, but he hasn’t been traveling around Judea to prepare the people for the coming Messiah.
Jesus affirms what the Jewish teachers have been saying: “Elijah does come first to restore all things”—just as the prophet Malachi said (Malachi 3:5–6). But then he redirects the conversation, asking, “How is it written of the Son of Man that he should suffer many things and be treated with contempt?” That’s what the disciples are choosing to ignore, refusing to listen to Jesus. “But I tell you that Elijah has come,” Jesus says, “and they did to him whatever they pleased, as it is written of him.” With this curveball, Jesus shatters any last hope of a glorious political Messiah. In the Old Testament, Elijah suffered greatly, and the next “Elijah” suffered as well; he was John the Baptist, and he was beheaded by Herod. And the same will happen to the Son of Man, the Messiah.
This is the death knell for the “glory story” of those who promise prosperity and success in this life to you and me. If you are a disciple of Jesus, “Your Best Life Now” will not happen, not yet; anyone who promises it to you is deaf to what Jesus says. Jesus came to suffer, and to follow him (8:34) means that we will, too. Until we are raised to life again in glory, we will share the pain and hardship of our Lord. Expect nothing less.
