"I Mean, I'm a Pretty Good Person Though!"

"Often we say, 'Well, I'm not very religious, but I'm a good person--and that is what is most important.' But is it? Imagine a woman--a poor widow--with an only son. she teaches him how she wants him to live--to always tell the truth, to work hard, and to help the poor. She makes very little money, but with her meager savings she is able to put him through college. Imagine that when he graduates, he hardly ever speaks to her again. He occasionally sends a Christmas card, but he doesn't visit her; he won't answer her phone calls or letters; he doesn't speak to her. But he lives just like she taught him--honestly, industriously, and charitably. Would we say this was acceptable? Of course not! Wouldn't we say that by living a 'good life' but neglecting a relationship with the one to whom he owed everything he was doing something condemnable?"

Tim Keller, Center Church. P. 34

Zack Eswine on Significance in the Ordinary

Zack Eswine on Significance in the Ordinary from Crossway on Vimeo.

Armstrong, Livestrong, Die Stronger

Lance. Big surprise? Um, No.

Baseball: Bonds, Sosa, McGwire, Canseco, Petite, A-Rod, Clemens, their mothers, and their dogs.
Football: Spygate, Bounty Hunting, Brett Favre's cellular indiscretion, Vick and the aforementioned HGH dogs .
Golf: Tiger.
Basketball.
This guy

(ps. government too!)

As earth orbits the sun, so do professional athletes orbit scandal--they cannot elude its inescapable gravitational pull. Don't believe me? Watch Sportscenter for a week.

But now that performance enhancing drugs have since devoured Floyd Landis and latched their tentacles around cycling's golden boy, the public reaction has taken on a particular flavor. The public has taken two distinct sides. The Armstrong's cry fraudulent disqualification, the Livestrong's proclaim result-driven qualification. Neither will suffice. In times of blatant failure (defiant in Lance's case), only dying stronger than you "armstrong" or "livestrong" will suffice.

Armstrong
Public outrage is climaxing at this point. After years and years of scathing, indignant refutation, Lance finally admitted to what he so vehemently denied for at least a decade. As with the rest of our athletes who have fallen so far off the pedestal we insist on elevating them to, Lance's heart has proved to be black. And the public is ready to exile him. Strip the jerseys! Remove the medals! Exterminate the awards! Impeach him from his nonprofit! CONDEMN HIM. Rick Reilly, an ESPN sports columnist and close friend of Armstrong who defended Lance the past decade, outright rejects Lance's personal apology and condemns him by publicly and permanently burning the bridge they so freely traversed in the past. "It does not matter what he's done," the Armstrong's say. "On the inside he's a liar and a cheat, and he's disqualified!"

Livestrong
In the midst of disqualifying accusations, there's a murmuring of those who say, "Hold on a sec, he still qualifies. Look what he's done for cancer. Look what he's done for the sport. He's been such an inspiration!" One tweet reads, "Beat cancer, raise millions of dollars for cancer research, bring back a dead sport, then judge Lance #Armstrong. People piss me off." 55 million wristbands! Millions and millions of dollars for research! "It doesn't matter what he's like on the inside," the Livestrong's say. "It's the external that qualifies this man! Look at all he's done!"

Here's the problem: According to the public, Lance has fallen so far and so fast that there is absolutely nothing he can do to rid him of this permanent and career-wrecking stain. The internal condemnation is thick and heavy and it is not going anywhere. Additionally, the external can clearly do no good in transforming the internal. Lance ran his Livestrong campaign brilliantly while doping with EPO for all 7 Tour de France victories. Polished and sparkly outside, moral decay inside. The yellow wrist band I bought in 4th grade can't change Lance's heart. At least everyone thought I was cool.

So it seems that when we judge others and ourselves, we go one of two options:

1. We recognize we don't measure up. We see that we're total failures. We drown in the cesspools of guilt created by our moral failure. We convince ourselves that we are unlovable. We collapse under the weight of condemnation, and cling to anything we can get our hands on in a vain attempt to pawn off the perpetual weight of ongoing failure. When we find out others are just as bad or even worse than us (based on our own faulty perception of morality), we make sure we drag others down with us. With an undeserved pat on the shoulder and a fake fleeting smile, we leap frog ourselves up a rung on the moral ladder. "At least I'm not as bad as Lance! He's horrible! I'd never do that!"

2. We think we do measure up. We fight and claw for a pristine moral portfolio to present to God and to others, and insist that they accept us. The external justifies the internal. "I'm a pretty good person. I don't lie, cheat or steal. I'm not a murderer or a rapist." When others are caught in a scandal (especially in a scandal we ourselves could be guilty of), we fight for their external records. We do this because by fighting for their external qualifications, we're actually fighting for our own.

Die Stronger
There's always a 3rd way isn't there? Scripture doesn't leave us with either of these options. Road blocks both ways. The Bible tells us to ditch ourselves entirely. Death to self, life in Christ. The imputed righteousness of Jesus Christ simultaneously rescues us from our self-loathing, and deflates the limp balloon of our self-righteousness. Christ forbids our despair and scoffs at our efforts to measure up. There are no options of self left.

"For if we have been united with him in a death like his, we shall certainly be united with him in a resurrection like his. We know that our old self was crucified with him in order that the body of sin might be brought to nothing, so that we would no longer be enslaved to sin. For one who has died has been set free from sin. Now if we have died with Christ, we believe that we will also live with him" (Romans 6:5-8) 

We ask frenetically with word and deed our entire lives, "How do I qualify??" As my friend answers, "Know you don't." As Tim Keller says, "The gospel is this: we are more sinful and flawed in ourselves than we ever dared believe, yet at the very same time we are more loved and accepted in Jesus Christ than we ever dared hope."

It is time to decisively push off shore from our tit-for-tat legalism and self-atoning that has been unfortunately familiar to us our entire lives. We don't sulk in abject despair. Nor do we run the unending race of moral manipulation. We fling ourselves overboard the USS Self entirely, and cling to the only Vessel capable of navigating the tempestuous seas of despair, confusion, desperation, frustration, pain, disappointment, anxiety, fear, sin, and death. The liberating power of the gospel is that our qualification no longer has anything to do with us. Our spiritual portfolios are filled with the riches of Christ. We're invited to joyfully jump off the cliff of safe moralism. The world says it's death. They're playing it safe. Risk is good. Jump. Christ is all. "Hallelujah, all I have is Christ. Hallelujah, Jesus is my life."

Fight Night

In Michael Haykin's Rediscovering The Church Fathers, he includes a quote by Gregory Nazianzus commenting on the unique relationship he shared with Basil of Caesarea. Blessed to know what this feels like.

"In studies, in lodgings, in discussions I had him as companion... We had all things in common.... But above all it was God, of course, and a mutual desire for higher things, that drew us to each other. As a result we reached such a pitch of confidence that we revealed the depths of our hearts, becoming ever more united in our yearning."

I want more relationships like this. Fascinating that the Spirit continues to draw fellow sojourners in Christ together like this through the centuries. Same root. Same joy.

Scripture, Culture, and the Human Heart

To illustrate, connect, and apply

So much to be said here. Thanks to my buddy Jeremiah Lepasana for finding this.

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.”