Jesus has come to condemn external religion, so you must rely on God (Mark 11:12–25)

Here is a short list of people whom Jesus is going to offend today:

  • Religious people
  • Businessmen
  • Salesmen
  • Merchants
  • Treehuggers

The guy never bothered to read Dale Carnegie’s book, did he?

It’s been a while since we’ve seen one of these “sandwich stories” that Mark includes in his account of Jesus’ life. He starts with Story A, then interrupts it with Story B, then concludes by finishing Story A. The interrupting story (Story B) helps you and me understand what is going on in Story A.

Here, Story A begins with Jesus walking to Jerusalem. Apparently, he missed his breakfast that morning, so he’s hungry. He sees a leafy fig tree in the distance, walks up to it, finds no figs to eat, and curses it. If that seems a little arbitrary and vindictive, Mark only makes the problem worse; he explains that the reason Jesus found no figs on the tree is that “it was not the season for figs.”

So what’s the deal here? Did Jesus wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?

We quickly find the answer when Mark shifts to Story B: the “cleansing” of the temple. Jesus enters the temple in Jerusalem and begins clearing out all the salesmen and moneychangers who have set up shop in the Court of the Gentiles, which is where non-Jewish people can enter to pray to God. He also prevents people from using this Court as a shortcut when carrying things from one side of the city to the other. He thunders, “Is it not written, ‘My house shall be called a house of prayer for all the nations’? But you have made it a ‘den of robbers.’” He’s quoting to them a couple of passages from the Old Testament prophets. The first is from Isaiah 56:7, where God invites foreigners to worship him at the temple. The religious leaders of Jesus’ day are permitting salesmen to interfere with this purpose of the temple, just so they can make a quick buck. That’s one reason why Jesus is quoting the second passage of scripture. It’s from Jeremiah 7:11.

Now, in the context of Jeremiah 7, the Lord God was condemning the people of Israel for their unjust and idolatrous behavior. They were convinced that they were safe from punishment because they had the temple with them; they believed that their religious system would protect them from harm. They were viewing the temple the way criminals view their hideout. But the Lord threatened to destroy the temple as the holy city of Shiloh had been destroyed. And now Jesus is implying a similar threat to the religious leaders of his day, who think that their external religion will cover up the wickedness inside their hearts.

Needless to say, Jesus doesn’t make a lot of friends today. Mark tells us that “the chief priests and the scribes heard it and were seeking a way to destroy him.” Why? “They feared him, because all the crowd was astonished at his teaching.” Jesus is speaking with divine authority, and it’s mesmerizing the people who hear it. Of course, the words of God always threaten those who rely on the power structures of this present world. If Jesus had come to modern-day America, we would have killed him, too.

Now, we get back to Story A and find out that the fig tree has withered. Aha! we realize. The fig tree symbolizes the temple establishment. Jesus is cursing those who are abusing the temple as a means to financial gain and as a religious hideout for their crooked hearts. Just as the fig tree has “withered away to its roots,” so the temple will be destroyed, so that “there will not be left here one stone upon another that will not be thrown down” (Mark 13:2).

But the temple was the place where God came down and lived with his people. If the temple and its crooked leaders are to be done away with, will Jesus’ disciples be cut off from God? No! Remember, the fig tree withered at Jesus’ words. God still has power and is still eager to hear the prayers of his people. “Have faith in God!” Jesus encourages them. “Truly, I say to you, whoever says to this mountain, ‘Be taken up and thrown into the sea,’ and does not doubt in his heart, but believes that what he says will come to pass, it will be done for him.”

Is Jesus giving us a blank check to get whatever we want when we pray? No, this is clearly contradicted by other biblical teaching (e.g. James 4:3). What Jesus is doing is using hyperbole to encourage you and me. He knows that it’s easy to think that God is far away and doesn’t care about us. Without a physical building like the massive Jerusalem temple, it’s hard to believe that God is near. So he reminds us that God is eager to do great things for us. Most amazing of all, he can forgive the sins you’ve committed against him—grievous though they are—as long as you are forgiving others (v 25). He is absolutely worth your trust.

You belong to one of two camps. Perhaps you are trusting in a religious system or some other man-made scheme to justify yourself before God. You think that it will protect you from his wrath. But he will curse your external religion and your self-righteousness. Your stubborn resistance against him will give him no choice but to destroy you.

Or perhaps you trust in God to protect you and to forgive you for your rebellion against him. Then you will find that he will do impossible things for you. He will bend heaven and earth to bring you close to him.

Jesus has come to claim his throne, so praise him! (Mark 11:1–11)

As far as coronation ceremonies go, this wouldn’t make anyone’s top ten list.

The “Triumphal Entry” into Jerusalem is a scene that’s found in all four biblical accounts of Jesus’ life, and each author brings out different aspects of the event. If you’ve been following along with this Four Minutes in Mark series, the main themes of his story won’t surprise you too much.

First, we see Jesus exercising divine authority to appropriate a donkey for his entrance into the political and religious capital of the Jewish nation. If he knows its owner ahead of time, we aren’t told. Instead, Mark emphasizes the fact that Jesus gives specific directions to his disciples, foreseeing everything that will take place when they take the donkey. There’s something a little eerie about it—a supernatural knowledge of what’s about to take place. This isn’t the first time that Jesus has predicted his future, and we’re beginning to see that his predictions are accurate to the last detail.

Now, maybe you’re wondering why Jesus chooses a donkey! Wouldn’t a hulking stallion be more fitting for a king entering his capital to claim his throne? Well, not according to scripture. Jesus is going out of his way to fulfill the words of Zechariah the prophet:

Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion!
Shout aloud, O daughter of Jerusalem!
behold, your king is coming to you;
righteous and having salvation is he,
humble and mounted on a donkey,
on a colt, the foal of a donkey. (Zechariah 9:9)

Zechariah, speaking words inspired by the Holy Spirit, sees a coming king who will enter Jerusalem to shouts of joy. He is a righteous man, coming to save his people. Mark records that all of these things are taking place. He also emphasizes that Jesus is riding on a young donkey. Why? Zechariah says that it’s an expression of humility. Jesus isn’t entering as a glorious, conquering hero. No, he’s claiming his throne as a weaponless peacemaker:

I will cut off the chariot from Ephraim
and the war horse from Jerusalem;
and the battle bow shall be cut off,
and he shall speak peace to the nations;
his rule shall be from sea to sea,
and from the River to the ends of the earth. (Zechariah 9:10)

This is bad news for the Pharisees, the religious authorities who want Jesus to advance their political and religious cause by driving out the Romans and their ungodly influence on the Jewish nation. That may be their agenda, but it’s not Jesus’ agenda. He hasn’t come to make war on the surrounding nations but to speak peace to them. He has come to save them, not destroy them.

So what is Jesus doing in Jerusalem? Well, whatever it is, it involves the temple. He walks into the temple court, looks around for a while at everything…and leaves. It’s a bit of an anticlimactic ending. Once again, Jesus remains incognito. But rest assured, the cloak’s coming off soon. And it won’t be long before his humble yet audacious claim to the Jewish throne stirs up a hornet’s nest of controversy.

So what’s our response to this? Well, we need to consider what this tells us about Jesus. It’s so consistent with what we know about him from the rest of Mark’s gospel. Jesus is absolutely unwilling to cede any of his authority. He is the God-man, the Messiah, the King, and he is not afraid to lay claim to that position. Yet he is humble about it; rather than trumpeting his high position, he chooses to use his power in subtle ways, revealing himself only to those who “have ears to hear” (Mark 4:9). He is careful to reveal himself as a suffering servant rather than a magnificent conqueror.

Our response must be the same as his fellow pilgrims to Jerusalem. As he enters the city, they sing phrases from the Psalms that are rich in their expectation of God’s promised Messiah. “Hosanna! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord! Blessed is the coming kingdom of our father David! Hosanna in the highest!” Praise the Lord our God because at long last our Savior has come. Praise him because he is uncompromising in his authority. Praise him because he is “gentle and lowly in heart” (Matthew 11:29). There is no one who embodies this paradox like Jesus.

Now, perhaps you don’t like this kind of Jesus. Perhaps you want a Jesus who’s just a good man, who doesn’t insist that he is the exclusive Lord over all the earth. Or perhaps you want a Jesus who offers a victorious life, free from suffering—who promises health, wealth, and a positive attitude. Or perhaps you want a Jesus who’s a culture warrior, who will champion your favorite political or social cause. If so, let me offer you this word of warning: what Jesus does over the next week of his ministry is really going to cheese you off, because he’s about to expose and condemn false disciples like you. Just a heads up, you know.

Jesus has come to suffer and serve, so here’s how to be his disciple (Mark 10:46–52)

Most of us grew up having heroes. Maybe yours was a singer or a movie star or a football player whose poster you taped to your bedroom wall.

Or how about a blind beggar? Did you grow up with a smelly blind beggar as your hero? Me neither.

Maybe we should reconsider our heroes.

I know it’s been a little while since my last post on Mark 10:32–45, but do you remember how two of Jesus’ disciples (James and John) were behaving? They were gunning for high positions in the kingdom that they were sure Jesus was about to set up. They wanted to be great, to be looked upon highly by others. Jesus told them that true greatness requires you to serve and to suffer; Jesus himself, as the greatest of all, would serve and suffer more than any man who ever lived.

So now that Jesus has shot holes in our grandiose ideas of what it means to be his disciples, we find ourselves confronted with a blind beggar named Bartimaeus, huddled in the roadside dust outside the city of Jericho. Now, this is a guy who knows he has a problem and isn’t ashamed to admit it. He hears that Jesus is about to walk past him, surrounded by a crowd of pilgrims traveling to Jerusalem to celebrate the Passover feast. So Bartimaeus decides to make a nuisance of himself. He begins yelling, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!”

Now, when he calls Jesus the Son of David, Bartimaeus is identifying him as the promised Messiah, the coming King descended from David. This pathetic beggar has the audacity to request help from the glorious King. Members of the crowd are annoyed by his boldness and his endless racket, so they start shouting back at him to shut up. But Bartimaeus just gets louder. “Son of David, have mercy on me!”

Jesus decides to put a stop to the commotion. He says, “Call him,” and it’s like a switch is flipped in the crowd; they’re all smiles toward Bartimaeus and encourage him to come over. They suddenly realize that Jesus values useless people like this blind man. Bartimaeus leaps up and comes to Jesus, who asks him, “What do you want me to do for you?”

Now, remember how James and John replied when Jesus asked them the same question. They said, “Grant us to sit, one at your right hand and one at your left, in your glory” (v 37). They wanted great things for themselves. What does Bartimaeus want? “Rabbi, let me recover my sight,” he says. That’s all. He just wants to see.

So Jesus says, “Go your way; your faith has saved you.” Bartimaeus can see again. He leaves Jericho behind and begins following Jesus on the uphill way to Jerusalem.

The contrast couldn’t be greater between Bartimaeus and Jesus’ inner circle of disciples, the Twelve. They are confident in their abilities (see vv 38–39); he knows he is helpless. They want a promotion from Jesus; he just wants mercy. They want power and status; he just wants to see. They want authority to “lord it over” other people (v 42); he wants his sight back so that he can follow Jesus’ lead.

It’s funny how a blind man can see who Jesus is and understand his mission, while Jesus’ own disciples are still in the dark.

If what Jesus said is true—that he “came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many” (v 45)—and if Jesus truly is the King of God’s kingdom, then this means that lowly people like Bartimaeus are the people who are most like Jesus. They’re the ones who have faith in Jesus, because they don’t have faith in themselves. They know they’re needy, so they place every ounce of trust on Jesus as the one who can rescue them from their helpless state.

So what are you trying to get out of Jesus?

Do you want him to turn you into a great person? Do you want him to fulfill your life dreams for you? At times, I catch myself wishing that I could become a very popular and influential pastor someday. What dreams of greatness do you wish that Jesus would grant?

Let’s shift our thinking. Instead of requesting greatness and self-actualization from Jesus, let’s just ask to see. Let’s start asking him to open our eyes, to see him as the Suffering Servant who came “to give his life as a ransom for many.” Let’s ask simply that we may know and understand him, so that we can follow him on the way. That’s all you and I need to be his disciples.

Jesus has come to suffer and serve, so you’ve got greatness upside down (Mark 10:32–45)

If you didn’t think Jesus’ disciples were a bit thickheaded before, you will now.

For the third time, Jesus predicts that he will suffer and die and rise again from the dead. What’s unique this time is that now he has set out toward Jerusalem, the headquarters of his enemies. The religious leaders of Israel hate Jesus’ guts, yet he’s leading his disciples right into the teeth of their religious empire. I suppose you could say that it’s an invasion of sorts, and his disciples are “amazed” and “afraid.” And when Jesus announces that it’s a death march, it doesn’t help matters.

However, a couple of his disciples are unflappable. James and his brother John look right past Jesus’ gloomy forecast and see only the glory on the other side. Jesus has called himself “the Son of Man,” and they probably remember from Daniel 7:13–14 that this “son of man” will be given “dominion and glory and a kingdom, that all peoples, nations, and languages should serve him.” They’d like a piece of that, thank you very much.

But how to broach the subject? “Teacher,” they say, “we want you to do for us whatever we ask of you.” Uh-huh, very subtle. Jesus offers no promises, but they still request, “Grant us to sit, one at your right hand and one at your left, in your glory.”

Jesus tells it like it is: “You do not know what you are asking.” They still haven’t picked up that Jesus isn’t the glorious, victorious political Messiah they’re wanting. He asks them if they’re able to suffer what he will suffer, and they respond, “We are able”—with a healthy dose of naïveté and arrogance. They have no idea what they’re in for. Jesus agrees that they will suffer, but still he won’t promise them the glory they’re looking for. “To sit at my right hand or at my left is not mine to grant,” he says, “but it is for those for whom it has been prepared.” He defers to his Father’s sovereign assignments. Positions of prestige in his kingdom can’t be bought with charm or good deeds; they can only be given freely by God.

James and John are finding out the hard way that to follow Jesus requires suffering, and it is not the sort of suffering one endures in order to gain prestige. We’re about to find out why not.

Word gets out to the other ten disciples that James and John tried (and failed) to pull of this power play. So of course they’re ticked. (“No fair! Why didn’t we think of it first!”) If I were Jesus, I’d throw up my hands at these boneheads, but he sees it as an opportunity to show them the upside-down kingdom of God. He reminds them that the present world system, as exemplified by the heathen Gentiles, values prestige, prominence, and the possession of power. In this world system, greatness means gaining power and using it to benefit yourself.

But Jesus tells them, “It is not so among you.” This is not how the invading upside-down kingdom works. Its economy is the exact opposite. In God’s kingdom, “whoever would be great among you must be your servant.” Well, that sounds annoying. Who wants to be at the beck and call of other people, many of whom are more stupid or boring or ugly or evil than you? How about you take it easy on us, Jesus?

No dice. “Whoever would be first among you must be slave of all,” he adds. Not just a servant, but a slave. Not just a slave of a handpicked few, but a slave of all.

Why is this? Where does this upside-down reality come from?

Jesus doesn’t derive it from abstract philosophical principles. No, he draws it from his own person and his own mission. “Even the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve,” he says. Remember, this is the same “son of man” in Daniel who is to be served by “all peoples, languages, and nations”! And he has come to serve? Yes! In fact, his greatness in God’s kingdom comes from this mission. He will be the greatest of all because he will “give his life as a ransom for many.” He will give up his life as a price to God to pay for the sins of many. This atoning work will be the ground for the “dominion and glory and a kingdom” which the Ancient of Days will give him. He will receive the all-conquering upside-down kingdom as its King. Anyone who wishes to be great in this eternal kingdom must serve and suffer like he does.

So this is Jesus—the triumphant Son of Man, yet a humble, devoted slave who lays down his life in our place. As Samuel Crossman writes,

In life, no house, no home
My Lord on earth might have;
In death no friendly tomb
But what a stranger gave.
What may I say? Heav’n was His home;
But mine the tomb wherein He lay.

If you and I are his disciples, if we belong to him, then we must also serve and suffer. We have to give up any idea of an easy life. It’s okay if things are hard and painful. And we have to give up any idea of popularity or fame or influence. It’s okay to be small and unnoticed. In fact, it’s far better to serve others in small and unnoticed ways than to have the attention of the world fixed on you. For Jesus will not be disappointed with you.

Yoga: A biblical response (Addendum)

So this is old news, but I’ve not had as much free time lately due to the constraints of having a real life job. You may remember that, several weeks ago, Al Mohler wrote an article condemning the practice of yoga by Christians. Like many others, I tried to wrestle with what Mohler was saying; you can read parts 1 2 3 & 4 of my response. Then, a week ago (which is like fifty thousand years in Internet time), Mohler issued  a clarifying statement which I find helpful.

I have heard from a myriad of Christians who insist that their practice of yoga involves absolutely no meditation, no spiritual direction, no inward concentration, and no thought element. Well, if so, you are simply not practicing yoga. You may be twisting yourselves into pretzels or grasshoppers, but if there is no meditation or direction of consciousness, you are not practicing yoga, you are simply performing a physical exercise. Don’t call it yoga.

You know, I think we agree here after all. I’d love it if we could stop calling it yoga when it’s performed for the sole purpose of improving one’s physical strength, stamina, and flexibility.

John Mark Reynolds writes a response in which he is more open to further uses of yoga. I think I like the general idea behind what he says (essentially that “what is good, true, and beautiful about Yoga” can be reclaimed for Christianity), but it’s lacking in specifics, which troubles me. I don’t believe it’s fair to counter Mohler with a blanket statement, without specific examples, and then claim that it is Mohler who “lacks imagination.” I’m not saying that Reynolds is wrong here, just that I think he needs to load his gun before firing it.

I should also add that all the angry feedback Mohler has received on this issue is a sad comment on the failure of Christians in the West at developing a biblical mindset. Mohler’s comments should be considered carefully, not casually dismissed just because you happen to like yoga.

So anyway, tomorrow or Monday I will be back to regular blogging as we continue our journey through Mark.