Keep Them in the World

Passage: John 17:6-26

John includes a lengthy prayer in his account of the Last Supper. The prayer belongs to Jesus, who prays for the disciples. Jesus knows what’s coming. In the immediate, he will be betrayed by one of the Twelve. He will be arrested and crucified. The disciples will be left reeling in the aftermath. Then, after he rises from the dead, Jesus will return to heaven and they will be left to continue his mission. In their lifetimes they will see their fellow Jews and their Roman occupiers brutally suppress the Christian faith. Ten of the remaining eleven original disciples will be executed for their faith; the last will die in prison. The world will not be kind to any of them.

Yet knowing all this Jesus does not ask for God to rescue his beloved disciples. Jesus prays, “Don’t take them from this world. Only protect them from the evil one.”

It has been God’s plan all along for the disciples to pick up where Jesus leaves off. Jesus’ mission depends on the disciples staying in the world. If God’s primary concern was for the health and safety of Jesus’ closest friends, he would simply jettison them off to a more secure location. But God’s primary concern is that everyone in the world become one of Jesus’ closest friends. The only way this is going to happen is if someone sticks around to tell the world about Jesus. Who better than the disciples? So Jesus prays. Father, keep these ones in the world. But as you do so, keep them from the onslaught of the evil one.

We believe God the Father has answered this prayer. In the face of tremendous adversity Jesus’ disciples told his story. And more and more were added to their numbers. You and I have heard the message and we too are counted among Jesus’ closest friends. When this world is hard on you, remember Jesus’ prayer: Don’t take them away from the world you so love; only protect them from evil. Don’t lose heart. Don’t run away. Stay in the game. We will win this, in the name of our Savior and closest friend.

You Are That Man

Passage: 2 Samuel 12:1-14

King David’s life is full of famous vignettes. The most famous is undoubtedly the story of his greatest triumph: his defeat of the giant, Goliath. Only slightly less famous is David’s greatest failure: his affair with Bathsheba. The latter is a sensational story. We can’t help but get sucked in by the lurid details. David is lounging on the balcony of his penthouse suite. He looks out and his eye is drawn to a nearby rooftop. He sees the wife of one of his soldiers bathing in plain view of the palace. An invitation? David can’t resist. He sends for her. Has her. Finds out she’s pregnant, makes a futile attempt to cover it up, and finally has her husband killed. No one’s the wiser.

Except God. Shortly after David’s plan comes together, God’s prophet shows up at his door. Nathan tells the king a story about a rich man taking the prized possession of his poor neighbor; we the readers can’t believe David doesn’t clue in that the story’s about him. In fact, we can’t believe that David seems generally clueless about how badly he’s messed up. It isn’t until Nathan explains the story, describes David’s sin, and pronounces God’s judgment that David says, “Oh. I have sinned against the LORD.” You think?

We conclude that David’s in trouble for the sins of adultery and murder. These are disastrous transgressions that alone warrant whatever judgment God metes out. But in his speech to David, Nathan identifies the bigger problem. Nathan says,

This is what the LORD, the God of Israel, says: 'I anointed you king over Israel, and I delivered you from the hand of Saul. I gave your master's house to you, and your master's wives into your arms. I gave you the house of Israel and Judah. And if all this had been too little, I would have given you even more. Why did you despise the word of the LORD by doing what is evil in his eyes?

God says to his servant, “Have I not given you enough? What could be worth so much that you’d be willing to get it on your own?” The essence of God’s relationship with David has been trust. A much younger David faced Goliath because he knew God would win the fight. Somehow David has gotten to the point where he’s his own agent, and God isn’t even in the picture. David sees what he wants, and takes it. God promises to give David what he wants so long as he asks. So long as he accepts it on God’s terms. God will not tolerate his servants working around him to get what they want.

This is the lesson for us. It’s not just a cautionary tale against adultery and murder (although I suppose another cautionary tale about adultery and murder can't hurt). It’s a reminder that all good things come from God. If you have to get it on your own terms, it’s not worth getting. Why? Because in the process of getting it, you lose the thing that matters most.

Loving God's Law

Passage: Psalm 119

As noted in its superscription, Psalm 119 is an acrostic poem, with each of its sections denoted by a different letter of the Hebrew alphabet. Much of the artistry of the Hebrew psalm is lost in translation; not only does every section begin with successive letters of the alphabet, but every line of every section begins with that letter. So, for example, every line of the aleph, or “A”, section begins with the Hebrew letter aleph.

That being said, the content of the psalm translates well. The overarching theme of Psalm 119 is a celebration of the gift of God’s law. In each section the psalm writer reflects on the ways God’s love and faithfulness are expressed in the words and guidelines God provides his children. The psalmist sees God’s law not as a barrier to the good life but as a means of fully experiencing it.

We tend to push back against rules. We at times see the demands of the law as an imposition on our rights. We see the advice of doctors and counselors as an inconvenience and a source of pain. We don’t like conforming to someone else’s will – even if that someone has our best interests at heart. Psalm 119 is an unapologetic endorsement of living according to someone else’s will. It’s a celebration of the good things that happen when you let go the desire to have God conform to you, and instead conform yourself to God. Give it a try.

The LORD's Anointed

Passage: 2 Samuel 1:17-27

This song of lament seems fitting for a beloved family member or friend. We’re caught off guard, however, by the fact that David sings it for the man who has spent the last several years trying to kill him. David’s behavior toward Saul doesn’t make sense. It hasn’t made sense all along. From the time David has arrived on the scene, Saul’s corruption has been apparent. David has been anointed king elect of the nation of Israel. Saul has been botching the job consistently. David has a strong following, and if he made a bid for the throne, he’d be sure to succeed in taking it by force. On top of all that, Saul has persistently tried to kill David – even when David wasn’t an obvious threat; even when David devoted himself to serving Saul.

David has numerous opportunities both to lead an insurgency to oust Saul and to kill Saul personally. Yet he never takes his shot. David goes out of his way to protect Saul and to honor him, even though the man doesn’t deserve it. When Saul finally dies, David takes revenge on the soldier who claims responsibility. In the aftermath of Saul’s death, when he should be throwing a party, David weeps, and commands his army to mourn. Why?

I believe there are two reasons. The first is that David respects the office of king of Israel. David recognizes that God placed Saul on the throne. David chooses to respect God’s sovereignty in the decision, leaving it to God to decide when to remove his anointed from the throne. David will fight to the death to honor God’s anointed – even if it seems God’s anointed has gone astray. This is the extent to which David is committed to God’s will.

The second reason – the reason David refuses to end Saul’s life and the reason he mourns when Saul is killed – has to do with David’s proximity to the heart of God. Repeatedly we’re told that David is a “man after God’s own heart.” Here, I believe, we see in David such an intimacy with God that David feels God’s own grief over the loss of Saul. God may have dismissed Saul as king of Israel, but God hasn’t dismissed him as beloved son. Perhaps God hopes for Saul’s redemption; we see the same hope in David. God grieves Saul’s hardness of heart and brokenness of spirit; David grieves the same thing. In David’s song of lament we catch a glimpse of God’s own pain over the loss of someone for whom he had high hopes.

Our calling is to be so close to God that we know and honor his will - even when it hurts us. Our desire, if we are the people of God, is to be close enough to God's heart to feel something of what he feels: broken heartedness at the loss of any of his children; joy at the redemption of any sinner.

The First Stone

Passage: John 8:1-11

“She’s breaking the rules!” My kids are 2 and 4, and this is already a steady refrain in our household. They’ve both caught on to the fact that any rule that applies to one should be leveraged against the other. If one is disciplined for breaking a rule, the other must never be allowed to get away with a similar infraction. That wouldn’t be fair.

We learn this lesson young, and we never forget it. If I’m held to a certain standard, I’m going to make sure everyone else is held to that standard, too. Fair is fair. We are quick to cry foul when someone else gets away with a sin we’ve gotten nailed for. We apply this principle to every sphere of life, but nowhere does it become more apparent than in our religious life. Those of us who adhere to the rules of any faith get bent out of shape when the people around us break the rules. Especially when they seem to be getting away with it.

This is nothing new. During Jesus’ ministry on earth, he dealt with a steady stream of people who expected him to serve as arbiter in their complaints against sinners. Rabbi, she’s breaking the rules! John 8 describes such a scenario, and clearly presents Jesus’ position on other people’s sin. Jesus is hanging out in the town square when the religious right, the Pharisees, approach. They’re dragging a scared and disheveled woman by the elbow. “Rabbi,” they say, “this woman’s an adulteress. The law requires death by stoning. What do you say?” They know the right answer. They want to see if Jesus plays by the rules.

Jesus doesn’t even look up from what he’s doing. He says, “Go ahead. Stone her, as the law requires. But the first stone has to be thrown by the one of you who has never violated the law himself.” The men look down at the stones in their hands. They avoid looking at each other. They all had the stones to condemn an obvious sinner. None has the stones to lie about his own standing before God. When Jesus looks up, the only person standing before him is the accused. Jesus feigns surprise. “What, there’s no one to condemn you?” The woman shakes her head. “Well,” says Jesus, “then neither do I.” As the woman turns to go Jesus clears his throat. She turns, and her eyes meet his. He says, “Leave your sin behind. Here’s your shot at a new life. Take it.”

The Pharisees’ motives were all wrong. They wanted to see a sinner get hers. In spite of themselves, however, they did the right thing. They brought the sinner to Jesus. Jesus doesn’t make the world right by condemning sinners. He makes it right by redeeming them. If you’ve got the stones, let him start with you. Instead of being the first to throw, be the first to accept Jesus’ offer: Leave your sin behind. Here’s your shot at a new life. Take it.