Identity, Idolatry, and the Gospel (part 2)

So put bluntly, in modern terms, Herod was a tool. Cocky. He thought he was the man, and wanted everyone to know it. He was that guy in the clubs with the popped collar, stunner shades on, hair gelled stiff, using money like napkins. Think Jersey Shore.

Throwing dirt Lebron style on the top of Mount Carmel

As Jeremiah and I considered this individual, we asked ourselves an important question. What about the human heart leads to action such as this? Herod’s behavior certainly isn’t anachronistic. We’ve seen power trips like this all throughout history, and we still see them today. Trump. Where’s the commonality? That common denominator is idolatry. The sin of idolatry subtly ravages the human heart. Idolatry can be defined as looking to other things to provide the comfort, satisfaction, joy, peace, security, and rest that only God can provide. Ask yourself the question, “If only I had _______, then I would be OK.” Or, “As long as _________ continues to happen, then I’m OK.” Fill in the blank. For Herod it was power. It was control. As long as he was in control, and could CLEARLY demonstrate it, he was ok. Herod was defined by lavishness and opulence. It could be different for you. Financial security? Family? Job? Marriage? Social status? Car? House? Education? Sex? Influence? What is the one thing in your life that if you lost it, you would be utterly devastated? An idol is anything more important to you than God, anything that absorbs your heart and imagination more than God, anything you seek to give you what only God can give.

Now keep in mind Jeremiah’s last sentence. “We met Jesus.” We’re going there. I want to be clear on why we are going there before we do.

Jeremiah and I looked at Herod’s idolatrous situation, and ultimately ours, in terms of a two-fold identity. After a particular lecture in Caesarea, Jeremiah came up to me and applied these concepts of passive identity and active identity. Passive identity includes the factors you are defined by that are outside of your control. For example, your parents. Your neighborhood. Basically, the culture you were born into. This is very formative, and provides foundational nourishment through adolescence. Yet there comes a point where the individual delves deeper into personal autonomy.

We’ll call this active identity. From Jeremiah’s and my experience, we’ve seen this happen somewhere in the teens. At this point, the individual has had sufficient experience in the world, and starts making moves. Affections are stirred in particular directions, toward different things. Individuals start deciding who they want to be. What they want to be known for. This life long process of active identity and personal autonomy is an idolatrous incubator. You, me, and Herod place our identity and affections in these things that allure our hearts so effectively.

So what does Jesus have to do with this? In accordance with our trip, I want to demonstrate the character of God and idolatry through the Old Testament. This will help us make sense of Jesus. We are led to 1 Kings 18, where Elijah defeats the prophets of Baal at Mount Carmel. This was a site we were blessed to visit a few weeks back.

The purpose for Elijah’s contest was to directly confront the idol of the Israelites.  King Ahab and Queen Jezebel were promoting a pluralistic society in Israel. They saw no problem with worshipping Baal one day, and the Lord on the Sabbath. The case is no different in our present day. We live in a society that is absolutely deistically pluralistic. In the text, Baal was not a concrete god as we see with other ancient gods like Zeus. Baal was understood in more of a generic sense. There was a Baal for everything, such as water, food, and land.  In our culture, these Baals still exist. Everything can be a Baal, and everything has been a Baal. How many times in our culture do we see success on TV, and think, “if only I had that, I would be ok?” When we see perfect women on billboards and think “if only I looked like that” or “if only I could date a girl that looked like her.” The possibilities are endless. There are Baals all around us. We undoubtedly live in Elijah’s pluralistic society.

            With idols all around us, it is imperative to identify these idols. In the text we see the NIV translation say “they danced around the altar they had made…so they shouted louder and slashed themselves with swords and spears, as was their custom, until their blood flowed.” In their calling to Baal, we see the prophets do three things. They danced, they shouted louder, and finally they slashed themselves until their blood flowed.  These are perfect characteristics and demonstrations of how we act with our Baals. Our Baals need appeasement. They are demanding. They require performance. We dance for them.  When something has captured our hearts so intently that we will do anything to acquire them, we have been enticed by a Baal.

 In recent years Madonna has expressed that the only reason she keeps going, the only reason she keeps writing new songs is because she can only stay on the top of the charts for so long. She needs the feeling of that number one spot. It’s the same with athletes who cannot bring themselves to retire despite an age that screams laz-e-boy (Jordan with the Wizards?). After the economic crisis hit in 2008, a string of suicides followed among the formerly wealthy. These included David Kellerman, the chief financial officer of Freddie Mac. Another suicide following the crisis was Cristen Schnor, a Danish banker who hanged himself in a London hotel. Their Baals were their identity. Their Baals demanded performance. When we do not appease our idols, or get what we want from them, we shout louder. We try harder. When our idols ultimately leave us empty, when we call out and get no response, our worlds crumble. Our idols demand our blood, and it gushes out in pursuit of them.

            In the midst of our despair, we have a more beautiful remedy than we could ever imagine, and it lies within the place in which the fire came down. “Then the fire of the Lord fell and consumed the burnt offering and the wood and the stones and the dust, and licked up the water that was in the trench.” The fire did not fall on the Israelites watching, or further off into the mountains, but the fire fell on the sacrifice. The sacrifice on the mount defeated the idol, and was the means by which people believed.” The character of God as seen through the Old Testament is to save idolatrous sinners by means of sacrifice. Familiar, huh? Enter Jesus.

 In the same way, Jesus sacrificed Himself on Mount Calvary to eliminate our idols. He took the fire of God’s judgment on our behalf, so that we may experience the fire of God’s love. Contrary to our false gods who say “slash yourself for me,” Jesus, out of adoration, slashed Himself for us. His blood flowed in our place. Not due to our performance, not because we deserve it, but because He already loved us-because of His pure, satisfactory delight in us as we are now. The remedy from our idols, the cure for our Baals, is not an increase in performance or effort, but instead resting in Christ’s finished work on the cross. “For He was pierced for our transgression, He was crushed for our iniquity. The punishment that brought us peace was upon Him, and by His wounds we are healed.”

Identity, Idolatry, and the Gospel (part 1)

The following is a two part post looking at the nature of the human heart and how it intersects with the gospel of Jesus Christ. Jeremiah will take the first part. Jeremiah is an unbelievably perceptive, analytical individual. He understands cultures and their particular tendencies, and what that tells us about humanity and the gospel. He’ll take the first part, and I’ll take the second. This is ultimately the written record of a wonderful conversation (among many) Jeremiah and I had in Caesarea. 

Jeremiah Lepasana

I’ve always found greatness fascinating. As a kid it made watching Jordan can’t miss events, and studying successful wartime presidents fun to research. At times, it even gave me an unhealthy curiosity for examples of greatness-gone-bad in the stories of Hitler and Pablo Escobar. Ambitious people are intriguing. They are dominant, and more often than not, ruthless. If you don’t believe me, just listen to Jordan’s Hall of Fame speech. Erik and I were talking about it the other day during an extended walk/hike. It’s crazy. Jordan could not help but give a verbal beating to all the people he already humiliated during his career.  He just gives beating after beating. It’s too amusing.

Here’s where I explain why this all matters. On this trip we’ve been running into countless of names and figures that at one point on another shaped history. You’re thinking, “right, no big deal, you’re on a history trip.” But let me tell you about one particularly intriguing personality, whose contributions to the Israeli landscape not only helps students better understand the story of Scripture, but also whose personal ambitions help me better understand myself.

Waves breaking over the barrier wall at Caesarea

The man’s name is Herod the Great. He was alive for parts of the 1st Century on both sides of 0 (meaning both BC and AD) and he built these incredible structures. Last week we visited the crown jewel of his desert fortresses at Masada. The thing was impressive, and totally unnecessary. He built it in the middle of the wilderness where there’s hardly any water. It’s right next to the Dead Sea. Our professor described the place as one of the most inhospitable places on Earth. I’m guessing it’s either because of the unusually high salt content in the water, or maybe because of the insane drop in elevation that makes sets it on the lowers point on the earth’s surface. Either way, there are some serious geographical difficulties.

It’s almost like Herod picked the most difficult project he could find just to make a statement. You don’t do that unless you have a lot of confidence. Like the kid at the local basketball courts who went out of his way to pick the two nerdiest kids to complete his three-person squad, just so there would be no discussion about who best was when they won. You hated the fact that he did that, but couldn’t help but be impressed at the same time, because he would win everytime. Herod had it like that. He was the king of Judea, and anytime he entertained people from Rome, he had food from Naples imported to the wilderness, just because he could. And he stomped on people in order to make it happen.

We visited five or so sites Herod built, and all of them seemed like they would have been remarkable. Aside from Megiddo, he built the Jews a lavish temple, his mother a winter palace complete with gardens and pools (also in the wilderness), and countless other temples for other deities. But at each place we visited only ruins were left. Our prof had to tell us to use our imaginations. On top of that, people hated the guy, so pleasant stories aren’t exactly told about him. Only piles of rock are left to speak for the legacy he hoped to build. They say when his death was nearing, he had popular Jewish leaders put in prison to be killed at the time of his death so that genuine mourning would take place when he died. Nothing he tried to build stuck.  Instead of story of massive accomplishment that is the story told of him. That can’t be greatness, but if not that, then what? Or maybe the better question is who? What force of nature from the 1st century still dominates conversation in the way Herod hoped to? Yesterday, we found the answer in a squatty town in northern Israel. We met Jesus.

The Person and Work of Jesus (Part 2)

Ok, so there’s a lot going on here in Mark 5. It would be helpful to reread the passage in part 1 to fully grasp this, because I’ll be walking through it step by step. What we ultimately find in this passage is two-fold: who Jesus is and what he came to do. The person and work of Jesus.

At an aerial view we see Jesus interacting in two situations. At first, Jairus, anxious and frenetic, begs Jesus to attend to his young daughter who is at the point of death. Jesus complies, and a great crowd follows him. Now, it is very apparent that Jairus’ daughter is closer to death with every second. At this point, the second interaction interrupts the first. As Jesus is on his way to Jairus’ house, a woman in the crowd reaches out and touches his garment.

As verses 25-26 state, this woman suffered much for 12 years from an unnatural discharge of blood. Here’s where ancient Jewish cultural context comes into play. On account of this woman’s condition, she was considered ceremonially unclean. She was not permitted to enter the temple section reserved for women, nor was she permitted to even be in public without blatantly announcing that she was, indeed, unclean. After all, no one wanted to be associated with a woman like this in fear of becoming unclean themselves. She was the epitome of a social pariah in the time and culture that Jesus entered into.

Sunset over the Sea of Galilee

Why should Jesus even stop?! The little girl is dying! Keep moving right? But no, he stops. At this point the entire crowd would think he’s crazy. He risks the life of Jairus’ little girl to simply find out who touched him within a huge crowd? But that’s exactly it—she touched him, and she was immediately healed. According to law, by touching Jesus’ garment, she technically renders him ceremonially unclean. By stopping, Jesus knows exactly what he’s doing. He’s taking this opportunity, knowing he will eventually save Jairus’ daughter, to completely flip the culture on its head. Jesus is taking the opportunity to send a thunderous message throughout the entire region that he is unlike anyone they had ever seen before.

Jesus turns and asks who touched him. He knew who touched him. It was because of his knowledge of who touched him that he asked! As soon as the woman came forward from the crowd, the rest of the followers were outraged. How could she, a ceremonially unclean woman, touch Jesus, this emerging spiritual leader (as far as they knew)? This was a massive offense! The crowd would expect Jesus to be revolted at this point. But he’s not. He’s unlike anyone they have ever seen before. He’s unlike anyone we have ever seen before.

Instead, Jesus accepts her, welcomes her, interacts with her, something she wouldn’t have experienced from anyone in twelve years. This interaction climaxes with Jesus’ radical statement of, “Daughter, your faith has made you well.” Why’s he bringing faith into it? Well, because Jesus is Immanuel, God with us. By noting the woman’s faith, Jesus is implying that her physical healing was an indication of the much deeper healing of sin.

So, we see now a little more of the person and work of Jesus in this first interaction. By healing the woman of her spiritual disease, we see that Jesus’ offering of grace, forgiveness, mercy, and healing is infinitely greater than our capabilities of sickness through sin. And in a culture that demands perfection, Jesus welcomes us in the midst of our inevitable imperfection.

Immediately after—the text actually says, “while he was still speaking”—it is reported that Jairus’ daughter is already dead. It seems as if Jesus’ pit stop has cost Jairus the life of his little girl. Yet, Jesus, overhearing the news responds, “Do not fear, only believe.” Jesus enters the house. People are weeping and wailing loudly. But Jesus comes in, completely calm and composed, and says, “The child is not dead but sleeping.” Wait, what? I mean dead is dead right? The people crying seem to think so too. They confirmed the child’s death. They laughed at Jesus’ assessment. Why would Jesus say she’s merely asleep? The answer is in what Jesus does next.

He sits beside the girl and says, “Talitha koum.” Talitha can be translated to “little girl,” as you see in the text, but we lose some of the meaning there. As Tim Keller mentions in his book Kings Cross, “talitha” is more of a term of endearment, a pet name. Like a father or mother waking their child up for school in the morning. Another translation for talitha could be “honey.” The second word Jesus says is koum, which means “arise.” Jesus says, “honey, its time to get up.” And she does.

Here we see another action that would render Jesus ceremonially unclean in that culture—touching a dead person. Yet, instead of the death of the girl being transmitted to Jesus, the life of Jesus is transmitted to the girl. Ultimately, Jesus conquering death over this little girl foreshadows his own experience with death at the cross.

 Keller comments on Jesus’ own experience overcoming death. “Jesus is saying by his actions, ‘if I have you by the hand, death is nothing but sleep.’ There’s nothing more frightening for a little child than to lose the hand of the parent in a crowd or in the dark, but that is nothing compared to Jesus’ loss. He lost his Father’s hand to the cross. He went into the tomb so that we could be raised out of it. He lost hold of his Father’s hand so we could know that once he has us by the hand, he will never, ever, forsake us.”

Through Mark 5, we see the grace-laden picture of the person and work of Jesus. We see his person—the Son of God, patient, sovereign, confident, healing, sacrificial. And we see glimpses of his work—staring the most dominant, relentless, inexorable enemy of the human race—death—in the face, and overcoming it. This is ultimately displayed at the cross, where Jesus, perfectly clean and acceptable in the eyes of the Father, absorbed our ultimate uncleanliness—death, so that his perfection may be imputed to the filthiest of sinners. You and me. Because of Jesus, we are perfect in the sight of our gracious Father, and welcomed into eternal, everlasting peace in his presence. Arise, for you are merely asleep.

The Person and Work of Jesus (Part 1)

Throughout our time and studies in Jerusalem, we have been consistently exposed to ancient Jewish culture in the time of Jesus. Our professor, Dr. Wright, has been a great help in making somewhat of a foreign culture more familiar to us. We have seen how this culture worked especially in terms of the ancient cultural standard of “ritual purification.” The ultimate aim of these rituals would be to remove specifically defined “uncleanliness” prior to worship or interaction with a deity. The culture in the time of Jesus was transfixed on this notion of cleanliness. It defined their social interactions and very being. As our professor noted, “uncleanliness” could be transmitted by touch our even transitively through pots, jars, doors, etc. Due to this fact, those who were considered unclean were exiled--social pariahs--in fear that these people would blemish other’s standing before God. These ideas are still practiced today, as seen through Orthodox Jews. Kosher food laws would be an example of this.

Me Looking out over the Sea of Galilee and its surrounding settlements

Now, why does this matter? Why should we know this stuff? Is it relevant to us today? Oh, yes. Yes it is. You see, God sent his one and only Son, Jesus, into this particular culture. This culture. Not 21^st century. Therefore, in order to understand the person and work of Jesus, and ultimately the character of God, we must examine how he interacts with this particular culture. We need to grasp the ritual purity laws to understand ancient Jewish culture, just as someone 2,000 years in the future would need to grasp the economy, technological innovation, or political structures to understand our modern American culture.

            With this understanding, I want to now turn to Mark 5:21-42, which vividly demonstrates how Jesus interacts with and challenges ancient Jewish culture in ways that are exceedingly relevant to us today. I’ll finish part 1 of this post with the passage, and attempt to explain it in part 2. All of the following took place around the Sea of Galilee, the exact region we just spent four days examining as a class.

Mark 5:21-42

 “And when Jesus had crossed again in the boat to the other side, a great crowd gathered about him, and he was beside the sea. Then came one of the rulers of the synagogue, Jairus by name, and seeing him, he fell at his feet and implored him earnestly, saying, ‘my little daughter is at the point of death. Come and lay your hands on her, so that she may be made well and live.’ And he went with him.

            And a great crowd followed him and thronged about him. And there was a woman who had had a discharge of blood for twelve years, and who had suffered much under many physicians, and had spent all that she had, and was no better but rather grew worse. She had heard the reports about Jesus and came up behind him in the crowd and touched his garment. For she said, ‘If I touch even his garments, I will be made well.’ And immediately the flow of blood dried up, and she felt in her body that she was healed of her disease. And Jesus, perceiving in himself that power had gone out from him, immediately turned about in the crowd and said, ‘Who touched my garments?’ And his disciples said to him, ‘You see the crowd pressing around you, and yet you say ‘who touched me?’’ And he looked around to see who had done it. But the woman, knowing what had happened to her, came in fear and trembling and fell down before him and told him the whole truth. And he said to her, ‘Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace, and be healed of your disease.’

            While he was still speaking, there came from the ruler’s house some who said, ‘your daughter is dead. Why trouble the Teacher any further?’ but overhearing what they said, Jesus said to the ruler of the synagogue, ‘Do not fear, only believe.’ And he allowed no one to follow him except Peter and James and John the brother of James. They came to the house of the ruler of the synagogue, and Jesus saw a commotion, people weeping and wailing loudly. And when he had entered, he said to them, ‘why are you making a commotion and weeping? The child is not dead, but sleeping.’ And they laughed at him. But he put them all outside and took the child’s father and mother and those who were with him and went in where the child was. Taking her by the hand he said to her, ‘Talitha cumi,’ which means, ‘Litter girl, I say to you, arise.’ And immediately the girl got up and began walking (for she was twelve years of age), and they were immediately overcome with amazement.”

Western Wall, Religion, and the Gospel

Two nights ago we had the unique opportunity of going to the Western Wall during Shabbat, which is the Jewish Sabbath. As I drew closer to the wall I encountered an increasing number of men, dressed identically, bowing back and forth with great fervor, praying with what seemed like a mouth full of fear and angst. Their eyes were tight, bodies tensed, fingers frantically racing across the pages of the torah. These men were certainly religious. But is their religion joy giving? Or slave driving? Where was the gospel? Where was the “good news?”

Tim Keller, Pastor of Redeemer Church in NYC explains the difference between religion and the gospel.

            Religion says, “I obey, therefore I am accepted.”

            The Gospel says, “I am accepted unconditionally, therefore I obey.”

Do you see the paradigm shift? I believe these men at the wall two nights back were very, very religious. This notion of religion pervades our culture. Our visceral instincts breed religion. Think of a resume before an exacting boss. Religion says we have to clean up our act before we can be presentable before God. I believe this religion was prevalent at the wall two nights ago, and I reject it.

 Conversely, The gospel of Jesus Christ is the good news that it is finished. We no longer have to work for our acceptance. No hoops to jump through. This is the essence of freedom. Our loveliness in God’s sight is not contingent on our action. Again, we must ask ourselves, how do we know? How can we be sure? The answer again, as always, is look to the cross. Just look at it. What happened here? Why is the cross significant? All other religions are essentially man’s endless pursuit of God. The cross is a bold, cosmic statement of eternal, everlasting significance that shows God’s endless pursuit of man. It flips this notion of religion completely on its head.

Now, because of Christ, we no longer have to live under a cloud of fear, constantly wondering if we are acceptable before God. Jesus was sent to the cross to absorb the full weight of sin, and suffer in our place. No more fear. No more ritual. No more angst. Not tensed. We’re freed from the shackles of justifying our existence through our job, parenting, kid’s success, relationships, social status, grades, financial security, accomplishments, and morality. Through the lens of the gospel we ask ourselves, “how do we qualify?” The answer now is…know we don’t. Our disqualification is our qualification.   Because of Christ, we have full confidence that the God of eternal, soul-satisfying comfort is looking down on us, so proud of us he could bust.

Do we still see God as an exacting boss looming over our heads, examining every action? Do we see him as a slave driver? Do we see him as some quasi-deity that we must allure with our action and ritual? Or do we see him as a loving father, Immanuel, God with us, guiding our path and eagerly anticipating our arrival home?

Galatians 4:3-7 – In the same way we also, when we were children, were enslaved to the elementary principles of the world. But when the fullness of time had come, God sent forth his Son, born of woman, born under law, to redeem those who were under the law, so that we might receive adoption as sons. And because you are sons, God has sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts, crying, “Abba! Father!” So you are no longer a slave, but a son, and if a son, then an heir through God.”

Holy Lands

For the past week and the next 5 I have been and will be traveling through the Holy Lands, if my last post didn't tip that off. I'll be posting here sporadically, but two of my friends and I made a separate blog for our experience. We are posting pictures and movies and text.

Check it out.

gointhemidstofus.tumblr.com

The Land

Psalm 122:1-3 - "I was glad when they said to me, 'Let us go to the house of the Lord!' Our feet have been standing within your gates, O Jerusalem! Jerusalem--built as a city that is bound firmly together."


My feet have been standing within its gates indeed. This land is, put simply, busy. In more ways than one. It's compact, so foot traffic is congested. Its politically charged, so its walls and signs are littered with propaganda. It's claimed as the homeland to several different religions and factions. Many people take claim to this land. It is historically rich, the backdrop to many civilizations and wars. It's the meeting point between the East and the West, and it that's exactly how it feels. It's a tightly bound hub where the various opinions of the world on faith and politics meet and interact. The atmosphere is laden with unrest and combative agendas

But why this land? Why has God chosen this land to be the primary means through which he has historically revealed himself? Underneath the layers of modern political and religious spin lies the stage for a beautiful truth, namely, the gospel--the good news of Jesus. Critically, analytically, we're forced to sift through distortion to meet this truth. Yet, this is the land where God has revealed himself to his beloved, and the foothills give life to the pages which testify about him, crucified, buried, and risen.