"We Are Nazareth."

When Jesus begins his ministry in Luke 4, he teaches at a synagogue in Nazareth. It's his hometown. These people watched him grow up. They're excited to see Joe's kid give the message, but they don't know what's coming.

Jesus reads from the book of Isaiah, "The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to proclaim good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim liberty to the captives and recovering of sight to the blind, to set at liberty those who are oppressed, to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor."

Then Jesus says, "Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing." He has declared he is the Messiah. Last night, my friend Jamie pointed out how Jesus must have said all this with great authority because the people at the synagogue marveled and spoke well of what he said. There was a moment where they believed, "Maybe Joe's kid is the Messiah."

Then Jesus goes on to tell them, "'Doubtless you will quote to me this proverb, "'Physician, heal yourself.' What we have heard you did at Capernaum, do here in your hometown as well."' And he said, 'Truly, I say to you, no prophet is acceptable in his hometown. But in truth, I tell you, there were many widows in Israel in the days of Elijah, when the heavens were shut up three years and six months, and a great famine came over all the land, and Elijah was sent to none of them but only to Zarephath, in the land of Sidon, to a woman who was a widow. And there were many lepers in Israel in the time of the prophet Elisha, and none of them was cleansed, but only Naaman the Syrian.'"

Maybe you already understand why the people in Nazareth decided at that moment they had to kill Jesus. Maybe it makes perfect sense to you why the people went from excited amazement to furious bloodlust. If you're like me, though, you have to go back through that passage a few times to figure out what happened.

Jesus said he is the Messiah. The Jews were waiting for someone to come free them from the Roman occupation. They wanted the Messiah to put Israel back in power. They wanted all sorts of things they thought would happen the way they wanted it to happen. Jesus knew this as soon as he said it, so he explained, "It's not going to look like what you thought or happen the way you expect, and I'm going to offer the same freedom to people you hate. Here are some biblical examples to back it up."

There it was. The Messiah they wanted would never say or do the things Jesus had just said and done. In the eyes of the Nazerites, Jesus went from the greatest man ever to a blasphemer who deserved death.

It should bother us how much we're like Nazareth. I know so many people who have said, "I can't believe in a God who..." They reject God because He doesn't act the way they think He should act or say the things they find acceptable. If they don't like something said in the Bible, they either reject it or reinterpret it.

The Jews were excited for what the Messiah would do for them. Freedom, healing, cancelled debt, justice. But they wanted the Messiah on their terms, and those terms were unconditional. Are we any different? Do we want Jesus or all the things he can do for us?

If Jesus were here today, how many of us would be excited until He started talking? How many of us would maybe think about trying to kill him again?

When Disappointment Becomes Too Familiar.

Last week, I wrote about how we respond to God's promises. Zechariah responded with doubt and Mary with trust. But I didn't ask myself why Zechariah responded the way he did.

Last Sunday, my pastor made an observation I hadn't considered. Luke 1:6 says Zechariah and Elizabeth were both great people who loved God, but they were old and childless. When Gabriel appears before Zechariah in the temple, he says, "Your prayers have been heard." Clearly, they wanted a child and had asked God. My pastor remarked on the disappointment Zechariah and Elizabeth must have felt up to this point.

For those of you who have read this story, doesn't it confuse you how Zechariah first feels terror when he sees the angel, but then gets a little lippy? I wonder if Zechariah had become so used to disappointment he expected a letdown, no matter how powerful the promise.

Imagine how much it hurt Zechariah as a priest, as someone who always tried to do the right thing, as someone who loved God. Imagine the hurt year after year as he and his wife grew older, watching the possibility of a family shrink and vanish.

Suddenly, Zechariah's response to Gabriel makes more sense. "How shall I know this?" I don't mean to say he should have doubted, but I do know how he felt. What startled me was how he asked this in the middle of an audible and visible message from God. Would my disappointments harden my heart to a point where I would question God's promises even if He told them to me in great supernatural power?

Four of the Twelve - Obadiah and a question of kingdoms

Perspective, for people like us, has limitations. We live within the confines of time and space. God, the creator of time and space, lives in eternity. Eternity isn't a never-ending sequence of moments, though. God exists outside of time and space. So, we can assume He sees all the points of human history, forwards and backwards, all at once.

Have you got all that? Read it again if you need to. It's important.

I want to make sure we keep this idea of eternity in mind as we study Obadiah. It's a short book. One chapter where God lowers the doom on Edom. At first glace, it sounds like the kind of thing one of the major prophets would have said as an afterthought. I suppose that's why so many Christians overlook Obadiah, or read him simply because his book falls on a certain date in the Bible-in-a-year calendar. But if all scripture is inspired by God and profitable, then why put it in there at all?

To understand the words of Obadiah, let's go back to the birth of Jacob and Esau in Genesis. In chapter 25, Rebekah becomes pregnant with twins. "The children fought with each other inside her so much that she said, 'If it's going to be like this, why go on living?' So she went to inquire of the Lord, who answered her, 'There are two nations in your womb. From birth they will be two rival peoples. One of these peoples will be stronger than the other, and the older will serve the younger" (Gen. 25:22-23). Esau is born first, Jacob (later named Israel) comes second. The first story told of the brothers' relationship explains how Esau sold his rights as the oldest son to Jacob for a red-lentil stew. The word "Edom" means "red" in Hebrew and was given to Esau, apparently as a reminder of "how little he valued his birthright."

In chapter 27, we read of how Rebekah and Jacob trick the now-blind Isaac into giving his blessing to Jacob instead of Esau. Isaac blesses Jacob, saying, "may God give you dew from heaven, the richness of the earth, and grain and wine in abundance. May peoples serve you and nations bow down to you. May you be lord over your kinsmen, let your mother's descendants bow down to you. Cursed be everyone who curses you, and blessed be everyone who blesses you!" Jacob slips out of Isaac's tent just before Esau enters to find the blessing already gone. He weeps and begs his father to give him a blessing as well. Isaac says to Esau, "Here! Your home will be of the richness of the earth and of the dew of heaven from above. You will live by your sword, and you will serve your brother. But when you break loose, you will shake his yoke off of your neck."

In time, Jacob and Esau have children who birth generations becoming the nations of Israel and Edom. At the time of Obadiah's prophecy against Edom, it might have made the people wonder why Edom wasn't serving Israel as predicted in Genesis. Obadiah 11-14 tells of wrongs Edom committed toward Israel in the past. Standing by passively as other nations came in to conquer and destroy. Rejoicing over their disaster. Taking advantage of the calamity and looting Jerusalem. Killing those fleeing the invaders. I can see some wise man explaining how Edom broke loose and shook off the yoke.

But Obadiah's prophecy is forward-looking. God has more in mind for the nation of Esau. The second half of Obadiah tells of how God will bring judgment to Edom and restore Israel as the ruling nation. When God made these new promises, one had a choice to trust God's reputation or the pain of surrounding circumstances.

For those who believe in Jesus, we can see how God fulfilled his promises in the coming Messiah. Even though Jesus fulfilled the messianic prophecies, there are some prophecies He has yet to fulfill. For example, the prophecies of Jesus coming to judge the living and the dead? That hasn't happened yet. What about His return to earth to rule and reign as King. Obadiah points to this day when God reestablishes Israel in verse 21, "Then the victorious will ascend Mount Zion to rule over Mount Esau, but the kingship will belong to the Lord."

See? Perspective is important. We can have a few reactions to God's promises. One response shows pride when we trust in our understanding of God's promises more than the One who made the promise. This might foster an attitude of unbelief. Another response recognizes the eternal God instead of the temporal circumstance. When God tells of what's to come, we can have patience as He leads us toward the promise.

In the end, Obadiah's prophecy had little to do with the struggle between the Kingdom of Edom and the Kingdom of Israel. Instead, Obadiah proclaimed the eternal Kingdom of God.

Trust and the Wall of Discomfort

Last week, my publisher sent me the galley proof of Stark Raving Obedience. I spent all weekend going through the text, taking time out only for baseball and church. While reading, the Holy Spirit used my own book to convict me. Several times in the book, I encourage people to act on the truth they read in the Bible. All I could think about were the times in the past month where I didn’t obey, missed my opportunity, or misunderstood the cue.

The top, number one, inexcusable excuse for my shortcomings? Discomfort. You could call it a host of other things. “Fear of man” “Fear of rejection” “Lack of faith”, all of which might describe what happens when I’m well aware of God’s will and still bail.

During the past week, a few things happened to reinforce what the Holy Spirit brought to my attention. First, I read a comment on Stuff Christians Like from this girl. She quoted from Kierkegaard’s Provocations by way of Shane Claiborne. “But we Christians are a bunch of scheming swindlers. We pretend to be unable to understand it (the Bible) because we know very well that the minute we understand, we are obliged to act accordingly. Take any words in the New Testament and forget everything except pledging yourself to act accordingly. My God, you will say, if I do that my whole life will be ruined. How would I ever get on in the world?” At first, I laughed and copied the quote for my own use.

Two days later, I decided to give myself a break from work. I drove a mile down the road from my house to Greer Stadium, home of the Nashville Sounds, a Triple A baseball team. I asked for a seat all the way down the left field foul line, five feet from the bullpen bench. For most of the evening, I listened to the relief pitchers and bullpen coach analyzing the game. If anyone looked over my way, they may have thought I was keeping score. Actually, I was writing down bits of their conversation. At one point in the fourth inning, the starting pitcher came to bat. He took two strikes in bunt attempts then swung for strike three. Minutes later, the bullpen coach told one of the relief pitchers to start warming up for the next inning. The guys on the bench tried to figure out why their starting pitcher wasn’t finishing a decent game.

Later, they learned what happened from the backup catcher. Apparently, after strike two, the batting coach signaled for another bunt attempt. The pitcher looked at his coach like he must have lost his mind. If he missed another bunt, strike three, a wasted at-bat, another out. The pitcher shook off the signal and motioned back to the coach that he wanted to swing. To the pitcher, the coach’s sign looked like idiocy. Suicide. But then again, the pitcher’s solution didn’t work, either. Coach was so angry he benched the pitcher.

One of the relief pitchers started laughing. “Man, if coach calls for a bunt, you give him a bunt.” Then after a moment, he started analyzing the situation. “I can see why they guy decided to swing, but coach was right. One out with a man on first and third is a great bunt opportunity. Either he advances the runner from first to second and gets him in scoring position or we somehow manage to pull off a squeeze play and bring the guy on third home. We might have taken the lead.”

I can’t say this was the pivotal moment where the Sounds began to lose the game. It is minor league ball, after all, which has enough errors to make me believe I’m watching theater. Even so, from that inning on, the team trailed the rest of the game and lost.

Immediately, I wrote this conversation on my program and made the connection to my attitude in prayer. There are days where God signals for me to pray for someone or tell them about Jesus. It’s not always so drastic. Sometimes He tells me to send an email or make a phone call that I forget about. But there are times when I absolutely know what God wants. He made it clear in prayer and scripture. Proclaim the good news of Jesus, pray for the sick, that sort of thing. But then I’m shaking off the signal or pretending holiness by asking, “God, do you want me to pray for this person?” After a silence, God says “No” and I feel justified in my nervousness. But maybe God said no because I’ve proved my lack of faith by not acting on the truth I know in the Bible. Maybe I just got benched for that game.

Now before you think I’m sitting in a chilly Nashville coffee shop moping about my failures, I want to assure you that God has used me to pray for and minister to more people now than ever before. Because of this, though, I’m noticing more instances when I don’t follow through on what God puts on my heart. It’s like the difference between walking into a wall and running full speed into it.

As I talked with God about my attitude when I run into the wall of discomfort, He reminded me of a parable in Matthew 21:28-30. “But what do you think? A man had two sons, and he came to the first and said, ‘Son, go work today in the vineyard.’ And he answered, ‘I will not’; but afterward he regretted it and went. The man came to the second and said the same thing; and he answered, ‘I will, sir’; but he did not go.” In the next verse, Jesus asks the religious leaders “Which of the two did the will of his father?” They said, “The first.”

We can find ourselves asking God to speak to us, to give us a sign, but then shake it off when He tells us something. There are lots of people who would ignore parts of the Bible that they'd rather not confront. I’ve found myself with that attitude in the past. The Bible is offensive. What if you really did live by what it said? What would become of you? I can tell you. It will ruin you. You’ll end up sacrificing everything. But take comfort in what Jesus told Peter in Mark 10:28-30. “Peter began to say to Him, ‘Behold, we have left everything and followed You.’ Jesus said, ‘Truly I say to you, there is no one who has left house or brothers or sisters or mother or father or children or farms, for My sake and for the gospel’s sake, but that he will receive a hundred times as much now in the present age, houses and brothers and sisters and mothers and children and farms, along with persecutions; and in the age to come, eternal life.’”

It may be hard to reconcile with the hundredfold embarrassment, persecution, or other trials, but the promise outweighs the cost. I’d rather be the son working for God despite the discomfort or supposed inconvenience. I’d rather bunt and stay in the game than strike out and watch other men do what I should be doing on the mound. When I’m running that marathon and hit the wall of discomfort, I can remind myself that the wall isn’t made of bricks. It’s made of lies and orange gelatin. It might hurt a little and feel gross, but God has enabled me to push through and keep going.

The Importance of Being Right – Or, a possible path toward unbelief.

Recently, I considered the topic of predestination. Unless we’re talking about the movie 12 Monkeys, I don’t typically like discussing the hopelessness of man’s decisions. The topic surfaced again when my roommates and I read about the atonement in Wayne Grudem’s Systematic Theology. One roommate took the side of particular redemption. I told him that I could only, at this point, agree with particular redemption after the fact. That is, I will only tell a person that Jesus came to specifically save them, that God chose them from before their birth for salvation, after they have already accepted Christ. And consequently, I will regard every unbeliever as one who may potentially accept Christ. My roommates and I talked for about an hour and a half on the subject. I finished my argument later by saying, “Even if I’m wrong, I can’t be mad. Nobody deserves to be saved. One person receiving salvation is more than the whole of mankind deserves from God.”

The conversation ended well even though we didn’t come to an agreement. As I washed the dishes afterwards, I smiled at the thought that a room full of opinionated men could still be humble in their beliefs. There were no assaults made against a person who didn’t agree with one side or another. We tried to come to an understanding based upon what we know of scripture and cared only that we lived our lives in a way that honored God. I haven’t fully adopted Reformed theology, but I am still thinking about the points made in its defense. I want to know more about God. In order to make sure that I don’t become stubbornly proud in my faith, I have to remind myself, “I don’t know everything.”

At the end of Stark Raving Obedience, I spent a little time writing about Blaise Pascal. In the book Pensees, he said that man is a point on a line and limited in his ability to comprehend either end of the line. Man cannot comprehend the extremes of anything in nature. There are numbers so big and small that we have yet to count them. The Universe continues to expand, and we have only begun to chart the vastness of it. On the other hand, scientists keep finding smaller and smaller subatomic particles. Some light and sound waves are too high or low for our senses, and maybe our machines, to register. Yet these extremes exist regardless of our ability to know them. Pascal’s argument was that some Being must fully comprehend these extremes. This was one argument he made for the existence of God. He said that it was man’s great joy to discover more of what God had put in place, but man must humbly recognize that he will never arrive at full and complete comprehension. This belongs to God alone.

Toward the end of George MacDonald’s Lilith, the narrator struggles to understand a truth Mr. Raven tells him. Apparently, the narrator is in a dream, but everything seems quite real. He doubts that his senses deceive him. Everything feels real, so how could it not be real? If his current surroundings were a dream, how would he know if he ever truly entered the waking world? Mr. Raven explains, “Thou doubest because thou lovest the truth. Some would willingly believe life but a phantasm, if only it might for ever afford them a world of pleasant dreams: thou are not of such! Be content for a while not to know surely. The hour will come, and that ere long, when, being true, thou shalt behold the very truth, and doubt will be forever dead.”

I often think about Pascal’s picture of humble learning and taking joy in discovery. But does this mean that any skepticism of new understanding puts me in the wrong? According to MacDonald, it shows that I have a love for the truth, a truth I can never fully understand apart from God’s illumination. I want my knowledge to form a complete whole instead of a pile of facts with which I can agree. I want to learn, but I’m trying to reconcile what I have already learned with any new information. If I’m going to learn anything, I sometimes have to allow for the possibility that I’ve previously accepted something untrue. This is the hard part. So hard, in fact, that I need the Holy Spirit to help me change my thinking.

I take this very seriously because of how easy it is to resort to an “I’m right, you’re wrong” mentality. The danger in this attitude comes from a resistance to truth not previously understood. If it doesn’t make sense, it’s a breeze to disregard it as nonsense, right? Priests and bible teachers of Jesus’s day were arrogant in their knowledge of scripture, but they didn't see Jesus as the fulfillment of all those prophecies they had memorized. In John 8, they couldn’t recognize Him when He stood right in front of them. Jesus had come to the temple to teach and said in John 8:12-14, “Then Jesus again spoke to them, saying, ‘I am the Light of the world; he who follows Me will not walk in the darkness, but will have the Light of life.’ So the Pharisees said to Him, ‘You are testifying about Yourself; Your testimony is not true.’ Jesus answered and said to them, ‘Even if I testify about Myself, My testimony is true, for I know where I came from and where I am going; but you do not know where I come from or where I am going.’”

Did you ever wonder why the Pharisees said, “You are testifying about Yourself; Your testimony is not true”? I think they were trying to trap Jesus with His own words. Three chapters earlier, Jesus said in John 5:31, “If I alone testify about Myself, My testimony is not true.” But then he says in verse 32, “There is another who testifies of Me, and I know that the testimony which He gives about Me is true.” This is why Jesus answered the Pharisees accusation by saying, “Even if I testify about Myself, My testimony is true, for I know where I came from and where I am going; but you do not know where I come from or where I am going.” He knew that He was the Son of God, one in and with the Father, but these religious leaders had no understanding of the Trinity to know the truth when they heard it. It didn’t make sense, so they disregarded it.

My pastor pointed out that John 8 takes place in the temple court. The priests kept huge oil lanterns burning day and night to signify God’s presence in the temple. Here they stood, focused on the representation of God’s presence and unable to see God Himself standing before them saying, “I am the light of the world.” It probably would have been okay if they had responded by saying, “Huh? We don’t understand what you’re saying, Jesus. Why don’t you explain it to us?” The disciples said that all the time. But the Pharisees didn’t want Jesus to explain. They wanted to trap Him and prove Him a liar. They wanted to be right.

What did that leave them with? Unbelief, I think. Graham Cooke once said, “The Bible talks about ‘an evil heart of unbelief”. And it’s not that if you have unbelief, your heart is evil. What it’s saying is that the impact of unbelief on your heart is really evil. You commit yourself to a life of toil, struggle, and pain. It damages everything.”

What’s the opposite of unbelief? Faith. Then that probably means the impact of faith on your heart is lovely. I’m not going to say that thinking you’re right equals unbelief, and thinking you’re wrong equals faith. Put it in terms of the attitude you have towards knowledge. Is it arrogant and prideful? Then you’re in danger of unbelief just like the Pharisees in John 8. Is it humble, allowing for new understanding? I’d say that’s a good step toward faith.

Having said all that, I encourage you to both seek as well as stand firmly upon truth. People used to tell me that I had to be open minded. At the heart of their argument, they wanted me to admit that their version of truth was just as valid as mine. Which is funny because this meant they didn't think my explanation of truth was valid. I didn’t budge from my position that there is one eternal God. That not all gods were God. That truth was not relative. Absolutely nothing will change my mind about these statements.

So whether God knew (and therefore picked) who would be saved, or if He made a genuine offer of salvation to all, Jesus is the only way to salvation. I can stand on the truth of Christ and yet continue to learn more about this truth. At least on this, the roommates and I can agree.