Tag Archives: Jesus

Burden-Bearing and the Cross

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“Share each other’s burdens, and in this way obey the law of Christ.” (Galatians 6:2)

It’s so easy to separate loving God from loving others. It’s easy to think that one must come before the other; that one is an “add-on” to the Gospel.

But that’s not the way the Gospel works at all. God loves to join together things that don’t seem to belong together. I believe He loves to constantly reveal the astonishing way that things are all interconnected.

The cross of Jesus is a overwhelming commentary on the unity of loving God and loving others.

When Paul writes in Galatians to “share each other’s burdens” (some of us know this phrase as “bear each other’s burdens”) in order to obey the law of Christ, our ears ought to stand up.

What is the law of Christ? 

Simply put, the law of Christ can be found in Mark 12:28-34 (also in Matthew 22:34-40 and Luke 10:25-25 [in Luke read through verse 37 to show how wide Jesus’ understanding is of the word, “neighbor”]). A religious leader asks Jesus what the most commandment is. Jesus responds, “The most important commandment is this: ‘Listen O Israel! The LORD our God is the one and only Lord. And you must love the LORD your God with all your heart, all your soul, all your mind, and all your strength.’ The second is equally important: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ No other commandment is greater than these.”

In a sense, Jesus does nothing new here: all of Israel knew the first phrase. Every Jew was to pray the she’ma—the affirmation that God is one, and you must love Him with all your heart, soul, mind and strength—multiple times a day. It was a bedrock statement for all Jews. However, with the second statement, Jesus does make a bit of a leap, for he connects Leviticus 19 (the command to love your neighbor as yourself) intrinsically with the she’ma. 

Much of Jesus’ ministry united these two realities. But it all culminated powerfully in the work of cross.

At the cross, fulfilled his own commandment from Mark 12 by bearing our burdens: of sin, of shame, of rejection. He took upon himself all of these things in order to take them off of us. It wasn’t just a “spiritual act” between himself and God the Father; it was a profoundly communal act as well.

So when Paul (or any preacher worth his salt) tells us in turn, “bear each other’s burdens, and in this way fulfill the law of Christ,” we can be reminded of a few things:

  • “Burden-bearing” is a way in which we can embrace the cross in our lives. When we take on the burden of suffering of someone in God’s family, we are following the model of the cross of Jesus. It is not “merely” a friendly act; it’s much more than being “neighborly”; it is, in fact, Gospel—”Good news”—to the world.
  • Relatedly, the cross is our model for burden-bearing. It involves suffering, and a weakening. Rather than seek to triumph in the eyes of the world, Jesus chose to empty himself and suffer, eventually dying a criminal’s death on the cross.
  • The cross and the church are intrinsically related. You can’t separate our salvation from our attitudes towards each other. If you try to tear them apart, you end up with a truncated, compartmentalized gospel.

Deeper Wells

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An Australian business leader once told me when he shared his faith with a Japanese CEO, the response was dismissive: ‘Whenever I meet a Buddhist leader, I meet a holy man in touch with another world. Whenever I meet a Christian leader, I meet a manager at home only in this world like I am.’

I read this in Os Guiness’ The Call, and instantly, deeply connected with it.

Around 2006 I was living in Chicago, and saw a poster for this guy named Rob Bell. He was doing a tour called “Everything is Spiritual”, and something about it just struck me. Sometime, if you find yourself anywhere near community bulletin boards, notice how many posters there are for some form of eastern spirituality. Over and over again, you see flyers proclaiming the “secret of life”, or the “path of peace.”

Notice the claims that these practices are making.

Then, the next time you see a poster or flyer for a Christian church, notice the claims they make: “A Comfortable Atmosphere”; “Relevant Messages”; “Rockin Band.”

hmmmmmmm….

It seems odd to me that Christians have abandoned claims to any sort of deep spirituality. Where eastern forms of religion claim—and pursue—deep spiritual experiences, we seem to pursue comfortable atmospheres where people can “hear messages” and “hang out.” What struck me about Rob Bell’s poster was that it unabashedly claimed a depth of spirituality that many in “my tribe” seem to have abandoned.

In fact, I’d be so bold to say that over the years we’ve chosen to embrace a form of faith that focuses on the acceptance of our “sales message” (convert people) rather than the call to take up your cross and follow Jesus (discipleship). Acceptance of a sales message involves understanding it and deciding that you want to buy; a life of discipleship and transformation in to Christ-likeness involves a thorough rearranging of our life practices. Make no mistake: we are called to be salt and light, to go into the world, but I wonder if over the years this emphasis on “proclamation evangelism” hasn’t begun to exalt certain expressions of our faith (extroverted, systematic, and focused on a “point-of-decision”) over others (quiet, meditative, shepherding).

(Full disclosure: I consider myself on the quiet(er) side…)

The results I often see are pastors who are in fact, more at home in the managing world than in the spiritual world. This expression is no doubt necessary and effective, but I think we slip into error when we abdicate other forms of expression and then allow other faiths to occupy them.

To say it another way: The Christian faith is a profoundly spiritual, even mystical experience. The Eastern religions have no monopoly on meditation, peace, and a spiritual “presence.” We (the pastoral leaders of Christianity) have simply abandoned many practices that produce this way of life (or just abandoned talking about them). The result is that a lot of people in our modern culture assume that if you want a spiritual experience, look to the East. If you want “salvation”, look to the Christian church.

Over and over, in my interactions with young(er) Christ followers I tell them to “seek the deeper wells.”

  • Rather than merely reading the latest Rob Bell/Francis Chan/David Platt book, instead seek thoughts and books and practices that have decades—even centuries—of impact behind them.
  • Learn to pray.  And by “learning”, I mean learning. We assume we know how to do this, but we still feel awkward and tepid at “prayer time.” Why not get a book of prayers from the Puritans? or from the Church Fathers? People who knew what prayer was, and did it for hours. If you want to learn a skill, learn from a master, not from a hit-or-miss amateur.
  • Develop practices in your life that take you away from people, noise, and voices. Solitude, silence, and secret giving are transformational in ways that other, more prominent behaviors simply cannot touch.
  • Seek the people in your community who have walked—peacefully and humbly—with Jesus for a long time, and sit down with them to ask, “How do I walk a long time in the footsteps of Jesus?”
  • One more thing: listen to Emmylou … she’ll set you right.

I Am (or A Call to Humility)

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As some of you may know, during Jesus’ ministry there was not a single monolithic “Judaism.” Rather, different groups were interpreting and expressing their faith in unique ways. Broadly speaking…

… in an attempt to achieve and maintain purity and distinctiveness from the surrounding corrupt culture, the Essenes had chosen to retreat away from society. They lived in desert communities, and were preparing for a final military battle, where they would be recognized as the “true followers” of YHWH.

… the Sadduccees were largely afluent, and had aligned themselves with the economic and political structure that surrounded the Temple in Jerusalem. Because they were well off, they weren’t interested in any sort of change. They’d “got theirs”, and weren’t interested in any dialogue that might involve a loss on their end. Relatedly, they didn’t believe in the resurrection (because who needs resurrection when you have the good life on this side of death?).

… the Pharisees were the “peoples’ champions,” being popular with the masses. They were concerned with the purity of God’s people: not for purity’s sake, but so God might return to Israel and overthrow the Roman/pagan empire that controlled them. Because, in their view, God’s return depended on Israel’s purity (and quite a few people agreed with them), they sought to “help” the people fulfill the Law in as complete a way as possible.

… The Zealots were absolutely convinced that they were God’s people, and that God needed to rule them. The problem was that, at the time, Rome was ruling Israel. The Zealots desperately wanted to change that, in any way they could. They demanded change now. Which meant military resistance. Which meant weapons. Which even meant political murder. Anything to bring about the “Rule of God” in their nation.

… The Romans, lastly, had little interest in matters of faith. They had their Gods and, for the most part, were tolerant of their subjects’ beliefs. What the Jews believed about YHWH mattered little to them, as long as the peace was kept and commerce was undisturbed. Though the Romans had their pantheon of gods, the Roman “state”, for all intensive purposes, was god and supreme authority. They were supremely pragmatic, and ultimately “might made right”. The Romans got their way because they had the swords and the legions.

For years, it’s been popular for the church to ridicule and lionize Jesus’ rivals. Constant insinuations of, “Wow how could you be so off? How could you miss Jesus?…

“I mean, it’s Jesus for crying out loud!”

Message after message insinuates that somehow we would’ve gotten it right. We would’ve bet on the right horse.  I guess it’s easy to believe that somehow we’re above falling victim to all of these “silly” beliefs…

Actually it’s arrogance. We’re not above any of them.

Whether it’s just my natural tendency towards (sometimes false) humility or not, I wonder if we shouldn’t give a tad more grace to all of these groups. In fact, I’d say it this way…

I’m an Essene whenever I come to believe that God has given up on this world and it’s going over the cliff; whenever I decide to retreat inside the walls of Christian “safety” and wait for Jesus to come back and “fix everything”…

I’m a Sadduccee whenever I deny that Jesus has broken the power of death, and begin acting like this life is all there is; when I forget that this life is not the end of the story; I’m also a Sadduccee when I prefer my security, power and money over what God may be leading me towards…

I’m a Pharisee (a lot, actually) whenever I decide that someone else’s “righteousness” needs to look like mine; when I decide that somehow I know the path for others, and that they are somehow inferior to me…

I’m a Zealot whenever I decide that political power = spiritual righteousness, and whenever I think that a political party (a) has exclusive rights to God or (b) will be the savior of our nation…

Lastly, I’m a Roman whenever I choose to ignore the presence of Jesus and His call to come and die at His cross, whenever I prefer to worship the gods of pragmatism and strength, rather than weakness and service…

I’m all of these things. I don’t know if I would’ve been numbered among Jesus’ followers, or the crowd, or even the Romans who beat him and nailed him to the cross.

Good thing He died for all of those folks.

And me too. But I think it would be great if we can learn that none of us are above mis-reading Jesus, and when we talk about how “silly” these folks were, we are already walking down the road towards an unsettling arrogance and close-mindedness.

THE Prayer Pt 4 :: “May Your Kingdom Come…”

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Our Father, who lives in the heavens,
May Your name be kept holy.
May Your Kingdom come,
May Your will be done,
On earth just like it’s done in Your presence.

Give us this day our daily bread
And forgive our sins
As we forgive those who sin against us.
Don’t bring us to the times of trial,
But deliver us from the evil one.
Amen.

There are three critical parts to this section: God’s Kingdom to come, God’s will to come, and His presence (presence is a slightly better translation than “heaven”, since we need to remember that God is not limited to living in heaven).

God has a Kingdom. This is no small thing.

In fact, it’s such a large thing that it’s the first recorded statement of Jesus in Mark’s Gospel:

‘The time promised by God has come at last!’ he announced. ‘The Kingdom of God is near! Repent of your sins and believe the Good News!’

Notice Jesus did not say, “Repent and believe in my  coming death and resurrection so you can go to heaven.” Again breaking it down:

  • God promised this
  • The Kingdom is near
  • You have to change your way of thinking
  • This is Good News 

There is no exact consensus on Jesus’ “Kingdom” teachings: did he intend it to be established while he was alive? Is it visible, or more spiritual? However, what is clear is that it comprised the major thrust of his teaching while on earth. Perhaps we could just say this:

To the extent that a “Kingdom” exists wherever a king’s will is put into place and performed, God wants His presence in your life to make a difference.

In a sense, the King’s Kingdom starts with you, and then spills over to the rest of the world as well.

To pray for God’s Kingdom to come is to pray for that to be true in your life.

Which means we need to take seriously the call to change, to become more like Christ, to in fact, “be perfect, even as your Father in heaven is perfect.” (Matthew 5:48)

We shouldn’t be afraid to pray this line of the prayer, but we should also be willing to go on the journey to relinquish our place in our kingdom, and to let God have His place in it.

I Don’t Want a Narcissistic Crucifixion

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According to iTunes, I have a lot of music. Over 22 days’ worth, to be exact.

I intentionally chose probably 95% of it; the rest were gifts, and songs that I needed to learn for gigs.

I also have probably 100 podcasts—again, ones that I have chosen.

I really don’t have to listen to the radio anymore. I can exist in my own little “Pod World,” and never have to listen to music I don’t like, or ideas I don’t agree with, any more.

That’s the world we live in—a “targeted marketing” paradise where I can tailor my world around me: my tastes and desires, my whims and wishes.

DVR, Netflix, Facebook, all point to a somewhat disturbing phenomenon:

I am the center of my existence. My needs rule.

Turning to the cross, although this may sound sacrilegious, I want to be crystal clear: Jesus’ death on the cross is not simply about the forgiveness of my individual sins. 

As N. T. Wright puts it, for too long we have made this individual forgiveness the “Sun” in our “Good Friday” universe.

But God’s purposes are much, much bigger.

And the truth is, I need it.

I don’t need a salvation that is “all about me” to join up with my universe that is all about me.

I need a God who is bigger than that; who—and pay close attention here—forgives me along the way to a larger and grander purpose in the world. 

The cross isn’t just about individuals; it’s wrapped up with the entire mission of God from Genesis 2, through Abraham, through Israel, through the Prophets, and ultimately into Revelation.

Stay with individual forgiveness only, and you risk developing a narcissistic spirituality; start with mission and you get the over-arching purpose of God, with forgiveness thrown in…

… What a gift!

Holy Week, Friday :: The Praetorium :: the Place of Suffering

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Mark 15:1-20. Very early in the morning the leading priests, the elders, and the teachers of religious law—the entire high council—met to discuss their next step. They bound Jesus, led him away, and took him to Pilate, the Roman governor.

2 Pilate asked Jesus, “Are you the king of the Jews?”

Jesus replied, “You have said it.”

3 Then the leading priests kept accusing him of many crimes, 4 and Pilate asked him, “Aren’t you going to answer them? What about all these charges they are bringing against you?” 5 But Jesus said nothing, much to Pilate’s surprise.

6 Now it was the governor’s custom each year during the Passover celebration to release one prisoner—anyone the people requested. 7 One of the prisoners at that time was Barabbas, a revolutionary who had committed murder in an uprising. 8 The crowd went to Pilate and asked him to release a prisoner as usual.

9 “Would you like me to release to you this ‘King of the Jews’?” Pilate asked.10 (For he realized by now that the leading priests had arrested Jesus out of envy.) 11 But at this point the leading priests stirred up the crowd to demand the release of Barabbas instead of Jesus. 12 Pilate asked them, “Then what should I do with this man you call the king of the Jews?”

13 They shouted back, “Crucify him!”

14 “Why?” Pilate demanded. “What crime has he committed?”

But the mob roared even louder, “Crucify him!”

15 So to pacify the crowd, Pilate released Barabbas to them. He ordered Jesus flogged with a lead-tipped whip, then turned him over to the Roman soldiers to be crucified.

16 The soldiers took Jesus into the courtyard of the governor’s headquarters (called the Praetorium) and called out the entire regiment. 17 They dressed him in a purple robe, and they wove thorn branches into a crown and put it on his head. 18 Then they saluted him and taunted, “Hail! King of the Jews!”19 And they struck him on the head with a reed stick, spit on him, and dropped to their knees in mock worship. 20 When they were finally tired of mocking him, they took off the purple robe and put his own clothes on him again. Then they led him away to be crucified.

After the public betrayal and humiliation of the upper room, Jesus’ physical ordeal begins. He is arrested at night, and then kept up through a sham (and illegal) trial, before being delivered over to the only people with the power to inflict capital punishment in the region—the Romans.

The Romans didn’t particularly dislike Jesus; to them he was simply another Jewish religious fanatic. The punishment they inflicted on him wasn’t particularly malicious or evil.

But it was efficient.

Jesus was beaten, whipped, insulted, and he bled, sweat, and wavered.

Make no mistake, a lot happens at the cross; but a lot happens before the cross as well.

Because Jesus suffers.

Call me crazy, but having a “suffering savior” matters to me.

It’s possible that God, being all-powerful, was completely capable of bringing us back to Himself with a snap of His infinite fingers. But regardless, He chose to come to us in the form of a human being.

Who was beaten, whipped, and crushed.

I think the implications of this are staggering.

If we worshipped a God who was only far-off, who is distant, who is only perfect and clean, than I would be terrified or embarrassed to come to Him (or Her) in my weakness and suffering.

But because God—because somehow YHWH—knows suffering, knows pain, knows humiliation, it means that I can bring my own suffering, pain, and humiliation to Him, and when I do, he says,

“I understand.”

“I have felt this.”

“You don’t have to be ashamed.”

Because God suffered, I can suffer too, and know that He welcomes it, and shares in it. He does not shun me in my weakness, but welcomes me.

Holy Week, Thursday :: The Upper Room :: the Place of Betrayal

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12 On the first day of the Festival of Unleavened Bread, when the Passover lamb is sacrificed, Jesus’ disciples asked him, “Where do you want us to go to prepare the Passover meal for you?”

13 So Jesus sent two of them into Jerusalem with these instructions: “As you go into the city, a man carrying a pitcher of water will meet you. Follow him. 14 At the house he enters, say to the owner, ‘The Teacher asks: Where is the guest room where I can eat the Passover meal with my disciples?’ 15 He will take you upstairs to a large room that is already set up. That is where you should prepare our meal.” 16 So the two disciples went into the city and found everything just as Jesus had said, and they prepared the Passover meal there.

17 In the evening Jesus arrived with the twelve disciples. 18 As they were at the table eating, Jesus said, “I tell you the truth, one of you eating with me here will betray me.”

19 Greatly distressed, each one asked in turn, “Am I the one?”

20 He replied, “It is one of you twelve who is eating from this bowl with me. 21 For the Son of Man[e] must die, as the Scriptures declared long ago. But how terrible it will be for the one who betrays him. It would be far better for that man if he had never been born!”

22 As they were eating, Jesus took some bread and blessed it. Then he broke it in pieces and gave it to the disciples, saying, “Take it, for this is my body.”

23 And he took a cup of wine and gave thanks to God for it. He gave it to them, and they all drank from it. 24 And he said to them, “This is my blood, which confirms the covenant[f]between God and his people. It is poured out as a sacrifice for many. 25 I tell you the truth, I will not drink wine again until the day I drink it new in the Kingdom of God.”

26 Then they sang a hymn and went out to the Mount of Olives.

What do you fear most?

Though most of us have irrational fears of something physical (ask me sometimes about my “relationship” with reptiles), for most of us the fear of emotional damage and threat loom larger.

How much do you fear humiliation?

I think Mark—and the other gospel writers as well—chooses words very carefully. In no way is he an idiot, or some kind of literary or spiritual half-wit. There’s a picture of Jesus that he is trying to paint, and he is using every available tool to work in the  medium of words.

Notice how he includes the phrase, “The Twelve.” First Jesus sends two disciples into the city to find a room where he will celebrate this Passover-ish meal. Then he shows up with The Twelve. Then he talks to The Twelve. Then he says, one of The Twelve will betray him.

What happened to the two?

I agree, along with theologian and New Testament scholar Craig T. Evans, that the reason Mark highlights the phrase “The Twelve” in this passage is that there were other disciples in the room. They secured a “large room” for the meal: more than enough for Jesus and his chosen twelve. But a large room would be necessary to accommodate a larger group of followers.

How many were there? 20? 40?

So when Jesus announces that one of these 12 followers would betray him, it’s not in a private, intimate place. It’s not an aside to a camera.

It’s in public.

There would’ve been some kind of gasp in the room. This was the “inner circle”, the chosen disciples, representing the “new Israel.”

And Jesus just announced that they would fail; not just fail but betray.

It would’ve been, to say the least, an awkward moment.

But Jesus is not surprised, and doesn’t seem let it affect the moment, because he goes on with the meal. 

He inaugurates the Lord’s supper, and proclaims the new covenant.

In spite of their coming failure.

Because ultimately it’s not their mission to complete. They can fail (and fail they do); he will not. 

So today, as we work through “Maunday Thursday“, keep these things in mind:

  • Relatedly (and obviously), we have all betrayed and failed Jesus in some way
  • Jesus’ is not surprised by our struggles to be faithful; he works through them and in spite of them
  • He is also not embarrassed by us; it’s his mission—we are merely called to do what he called those disciples in the upper room to do…
…To remember him.
Tomorrow: The Place of Suffering

Holy Week, Tuesday :: Bethany :: the Place of Safety

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Take a few minutes and read Mark 14:1-9

Interspersed in the narrative of Jesus’ time in Jerusalem are these episodes of Jesus in a town called Bethany. What emerges is the picture of Bethany as a place of safety for Jesus, away from the tension and conflict of Jerusalem during Passover. It was a place where his friends Simon, Mary, and Martha lived, a place where he could come and “exhale” during this closing act of his life.

Where are your places of safety? Who are the people in your life that you can truly relax around? Are there activities and routines that give you peace?

When is the last time you did those things? When is the last time you were with those people?

When is the last time you experienced deep peace and security?

The first two thoughts for today are:

  • If you haven’t experienced this lately, carve out time to find it. Go to that place; be with those people, do those routines. There is nothing wrong with rest. There is nothing wrong with peace.
  • If there are people who have historically given you this peace, consider thanking them. Write a note, make a phone call to say, “This is what you’ve done for me in my life, and I want you to know what a great gift it has been.”

The remaining thought centers around Bethany in the context of the story.

Because as comforting as Bethany was, Jesus didn’t stay there. He went there a couple times, but he used it (and the relationships there) as fuel for his mission.

  • Have you stayed too long in Bethany? Rather than calling you to more rest, is God calling you out, to a place of mission? Are you a bit too comfortable?

Holy Week, Monday :: Jerusalem :: the Place of Mission

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We are hosting early morning gatherings this week. I thought I’d post my reflections on and/or excerpts from my teaching. 

As the time drew near for him to ascend to heaven, Jesus resolutely set out for Jerusalem. (Luke’s Gospel, 9:51)

‘O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones God’s messengers! How often I have wanted to gather your children together as a hen protects her chicks beneath her wings, but you wouldn’t let me. And now, look, your house is abandoned. And you will never see me again until you say, “Blessings on the one who comes in the name of the Lord.’ (Luke’s Gospel, 13:34-35)

I believe Jesus knew exactly what was waiting for him in Jerusalem. I think he knew the storm he was stirring up, and that when we walked into the center of the storm, he would encounter pain and suffering and death.

And he went anyway.

He went because, as Israel’s king, he was going to (finally) be the suffering servant that God had wanted Israel to be. He went because he knew that God wanted to take his mission to the whole world, to the people beyond the borders of Israel, but in order to do that someone had to pay the price for Israel’s sin, someone had to end the exile that Israel was in so that the light could go out to all the nations.

In this sense, Jerusalem represents the fulfillment of his mission, and “the road” is the path to that mission. Everything is leading up to this moment, this destination.

I love that phrase, “Jesus resolutely set out for Jerusalem.”

He strips everything away, and begins to focus on the culmination of his mission. Distractions will no longer be allowed. He has to complete his mission.

As we begin our own journey to the cross on Friday, is there anything distracting you? 

In a sense, our mission this week is to enter into the story of Jesus’ last week. By doing that—by faithfully and compassionately remembering Jesus’ last days, suffering, and death—we are making the story current and real.

  • Can you “resolutely” set out for Friday?
  • Is there something you need to set aside for these final days of lent, in order to allow God to work in your life?
  • What can you do to clear space for your mission this week: to listen to and experience the fulfillment of Jesus’ mission?

The Jesus I Need…

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In Revelation, Jesus is a prize-fighter with a tattoo down His leg, a sword in His hand and the commitment to make someone bleed. That is the guy I can worship. I cannot worship the hippie, diaper, halo Christ because I cannot worship a guy I can beat up.

That’s just one of the worst things I’ve ever read.

Granted that Jesus can stand up for himself,  but the crime of turning him into some kind of Mike Holmes carpenter, here

via HGTV.com

to save your soul, “or else”, is just as bad as trying to turn him into a proto-buddhist, new age swami.

He simply defies categories, and we own none of them.

That being said, I think that description of Jesus Christ is just horrible. Maybe it’s polemic, and just designed to shake us up a little, but surely there are limits.

Can we not have the Son of God described as if he’s got a spot on next week’s “Jersey Shore”? Can we not have him described as Scott Stapp?

image via Megatattoo.com

Scott Stapp?!?!?

It’s projection in the highest degree (among other things, a desperate covering up of male insecurity)…

The fact is that we have little idea what Jesus’ personality was—that wasn’t the intent of the gospel writers—but I’m pretty sure he no more some kind of ass-kicking warrior  than he was a metrosexual clothing consultant.

He was a 1st century Jewish teacher and rabbi, convinced that God was bringing something to completion through him as he wandered around Palestine teaching and healing, laughing and instructing his little band of followers.

At least we can say that he probably had sensible shoes.

It’s always tempting to re-make Jesus in our own image. Frankly, if I did that, Jesus would be able to:

  • talk—intelligently and passionately—equally about the Clash, the Black Keys, and Sigur Ros
  • tell me about some obscure documentary on the life a tree slug and how, “no really dude, you have to watch it: it’s profound!”
  • lay my office out perfectly
  • come over to drink beer, eat chips and Frontera Grill Chipotlé salsa and watch European soccer

But you know what? That’s not the Jesus I need. 

I need a Jesus who:

  • fit into his culture, and into the story of God but transcended it and completed
  • loves and accepts sinners and the broken
  • can heal people (even though not always quickly)
  • isn’t interested in what I want, but wants to show me what God wants and is up to in the world
  • was obedient, all the way to the Cross

So yeah, I abhor that comment, and I disagree pretty vehemently with it (never mind his interpretation of Revelation, but that will wait until next time), but I also need to watch my own tendency to reduce Christ to my image.

He’s way beyond that.

(By the way, if you are interested in some highly intelligent work on who Jesus was and what he did, I would highly recommend N.T. Wright and Scot McKnight as great starting points.)