The Disciple Jesus Loved

“Peter turned and saw that the disciple whom Jesus loved was following them. (This was the one who had leaned back against Jesus at the supper and had said, “Lord, who is going to betray you?”) When Peter saw him, he asked, “Lord, what about him?” Jesus answered, “If I want him to remain alive until I return, what is that to you? You must follow me.” Because of this, the rumour spread among the believers that this disciple would not die. But Jesus did not say that he would not die; he only said, “If I want him to remain alive until I return, what is that to you?”” (John 21:20-23)

“The disciple whom Jesus loved”  - I have a warm fuzzy feeling inside because, like the apostle John, I am also the disciple Jesus loved.  

Because he knew that he was “the disciple Jesus loved”, John positioned himself as close to Jesus as he could get, and he leaned on him.

Because I know myself to be “the disciple Jesus loved”, I will also position myself as close to Jesus as I can get, and I will lean on him.

When the Strong Man Snarls

Ain't never seen this place so full
The crowd like bees a-hummin’
The word is out, all seats are filled
Cuz Jesus is a-comin’

The synagogue, the Sabbath Day
And all its rules a-tellin’
Every “do” and “don’t” laid out
Exuberance a-quellin

A trap is set, a wounded man
His withered arm a-holdin’
The teachers and the scribes sit back
Their tongues are schooled for scoldin’

They say there are six days for work
Six days to be a-healin’
The Sabbath is a day of rest
Before God’s throne a-kneelin’

Then Jesus comes, a solemn hush
Descends on all a-waitin’
He strides with power and confidence
Authority a-statin’

He spies the teachers, calls the man
And to the crowd a-saying’
An evil deed to leave a man
Your needful aid delayin'

Kindness isn’t shown at all
When someone is a-hurtin’
And you won’t lift a hand to help
Just platitudes a-blurtin’

One gentle touch, one quiet word
No fire and brimstone preachin’
But healing comes, an arm outstretched
Made whole… to heav’n… a-reachin’

Too many people lost in pain
The devil is a-skippin’
Around and through our broken lives
Our dignity a-strippin’

Enough to make the Strong Man snarl
When Satan’s rag’s a-wavin’
The Good News is that Jesus came
A-seekin’ and a-savin’


(Mark 3:1-6)

Any Questions?

"One of the teachers of the law came and heard them debating. Noticing that Jesus had given them a good answer, he asked him, “Of all the commandments, which is the most important?” (Mark 12:28)

He hadn’t just heard them debating – he had listened.
He hadn’t just listened - his heart was stirred.
He walked away from his friends.
He walked away from the trick questions.
He walked away from the suspicion and distrust they told him to harbour.
He had listened.

He knew a good answer when he heard it.
He knew truth when it was spoken.
He drew near.

He asked his question.
He asked the question that had burned like a fire in his heart for so long.
He wasn’t seeking a word battle or a debate or an interesting discussion.

He needed the answer.
He needed to know.
He wanted to know how to please God
He wanted to know his part in it all.
He wanted to be able to tell the difference between what mattered and what didn’t.

He wanted someone to tell him the answer.
He wanted to know.

He asked his question
He received his answer and
He discovered
He wasn’t far from the Kingdom of God

Any questions?

Jesus the Father

I tend to allow Father’s Day to pass me by. I don’t have a father, and I’m not a father and I’m not married to a father either, nor married to a man who has a father. I think that covers all bases. I know a lot of people who are fathers, and of course, I know The Father – so I’m not entirely fatherless.

Last weekend we were encouraged to bring something to share at our church meeting – a testimony, a poem, a short word – something the spirit of 1 Corinthians. It was a warm day so we sat in the garden. The kids scrabbled silently around to pick buttercups and “colour” their song sheets yellow!

With that kind of freedom, there are some people, like me, that take advantage and wax lyrical about something or other. Other people stay quiet, sometimes under the mistaken impression that what they have is not good enough.

Someone shared with me later what they planned to say, but wasn’t convinced that it was appropriate!

Did you know that Jesus was a father? Back off with the stones until I explain what sounds like heresy and some kind of approval of Dan Brown and Divinci.

Isaiah 9 opens with “The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of the shadow of death a light has dawned,” (v2) and goes on to declare, “For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.” (v6)

Yes, did you catch that phrase towards the end? Everlasting Father. Not spoken of God the Father, but of Jesus the Son.

One of the translations has it as “Father of Eternity”, and comments that the word “Father” is used in the sense of “Author”. Jesus is the Author of Eternity.

Regardless of whether you get tangled up with the creation of the world being according to Genesis, over six days and calculate the age of the earth in thousands or millions of years as opposed to hundreds and thousands of millions of years through a God directed process of evolution – Jesus was the author of it all and all that came before it. When there was nothing – Jesus was present.

That totally gets rid of BC and AD (or BCE and CE if we are being politically correct!). There isn’t a time Before Christ – because he has always existed. All time is in a sense AD because everything that is came after Jesus.

Amazing!

You are amazing
Truly amazing
Author of eternity
There before the world began
Before a single word was spoken
There has never been a time
Darkest night or brightest day
When you have never been there
Always, always there beside me
Amazing, amazing Lord

The Real Jesus

Imagine if you will a police line up. Imagine that there is an assortment of men standing side by side. They don’t look alike. There is nothing particularly similar about them. They are not even wearing the same kind of clothes.

Imagine if you had heard about a man who, for example, works with your husband, or wife. You have never met them before, but only hear about them in conversations.

Imagine that from the police line up you are asked, on the basis of all those conversations, to pick out the man. Obviously you don’t know for sure, and your best guess is not going to see him convicted of a crime or anything. You are simply guessing.

Actually this reminds me of a game show hosted by Donny Osmond not so long ago. I can’t remember the name of it, but the aim of the game was to match up the people to their occupations. I rather thought I would like to be a contestant, not on the basis of being able to pick the right people and match them to their jobs, but on the basis that I would get to stand very close to Donny Osmond!

My husband, a very long time ago, used to mention a friend of his who didn’t exactly work with him, but was involved with the Crofter’s Commission. I formed a picture in my mind of what I thought this person looked like. I thought he was in his early fifties, not particularly tall, quite stout, bald headed and serious looking. I have no idea how I came up with that kind of a picture.

Imagine my surprise when I actually got to meet the man. My husband will tell you that my jaw hit the ground with a solid thud. This man was Mr Universe personified. He was, as I blurted out to Joe afterwards, “Gorgeous!” He might have been in his early fifties but he didn’t look it. He was tall, slim, had brown hair that just long enough to flop over his forehead in a very attractive manner. And he smiled a huge smile. He hugged me, because I was Joe’s wife and I went weak at the knees.

My reaction came as no surprise to my husband as all the women in his section at work were drooling at the mere mention of his friend’s name! He just thought I was made of more solid stuff!

What happened to my small, stout, bald man? I tried to explain to my husband that part of my reaction was due to shock. I described my small, stout, bald man, confessing that I had no idea where I had come up with such a picture.

Having shared with some friends, Christian friends, that I have read and enjoyed “The Shack”, I have found myself involved in a dispute. They think the book is poking holes in the Christian faith. One of the main characters in the book is Papa, or God, but is not described in a familiar, masculine way. It took a while for me to stop being offended that his description of God did not match up to my impressions, or stereotypes. That was exactly the point that the author was making though that we see God in a certain way and anything that doesn’t match up we tend to ignore.

A while ago, the BBC produced a series of programmes called “Son of God”. They traced the main events of Jesus’ life. Part of the attraction of the programme was using all the up to date information to construct a model of what Jesus looked like. It was like the unveiling of some great mystery. What the Bible doesn’t tell us, the BBC using the latest technology was about to reveal.

I can remember being very disappointed with the final product. It didn’t look anything like “my Jesus”. My Jesus had definite Robert Powell overtones – blue eyes and long hair. This didn’t look like that! I remember thinking logically that the BBC’s Jesus was closer in terms of ethnic colouring and stuff.

I can understand fully why the second commandment is there – about not making graven images. We need to relate to Jesus in some way. It is when we refuse to change our picture that we begin to become unstuck.

When I meet Jesus I do wonder if I will recognise him. I am almost sure he will not look like Robert Powell. It will not be from the colour of his eyes, or his hir that I will know him. Perhaps it will be the welcome that is expressed though them.

Angry

A bible story that I come back to time and time again is the story of Jesus healing the leper in the opening chapter of Marks’ gospel. I once wrote a short story based on the incident. I imagined that the touch of Jesus went a little further than just a hand on the shoulder. While the man had leprosy, or whatever the skin condition was, he was barred from physical contact – so I wanted to communicate how Jesus goes beyond the basics. I opted for an embrace rather than just a touch.

There was nothing tentative or hesitant about his touch. He raises me to my feet and wraps me in his strong embrace. I inhale the clean smell of his robes and feel the roughness of the fabric against my cheek. The sun glistens off the pale hairs on his arms. I can feel his warmth seeping through his clothes and through my rags. Long forgotten sensations cascade over me as I stand enfolded. Just as the open sores of my leprosy break and bleed, my heart breaks and my hurts bleed out. He holds me close as I am drowned in a torrent of my pitiful and wretched tears. After a while I am still. I hear his heart beat in the peace after the storm. And we stand.

As I was checking out commentaries and what other people had blogged, or sermoned, about the story, I discovered that there is some debate about Jesus’emotions. All the various version of the Bible I possess read that Jesus full of compassion, or pity, reached out to touch the leper. It would appear that some of the early manuscripts replace the compassion or the pity with anger. Jesus, being angry, heals the leper.

The anger is not directed at the leper. Jesus wasn’t angry that a man who knew the rules concerning lepers broke them. He wasn’t angry that in coming so close, the leper was putting Jesus’ health at risk. Jesus’ anger was directed at the illness, the conditon that man found himself in and the whole social isolation thing. He was angry because sin had destroyed a person’s physical being, and all his social relationships and left him less than human. This was not the world that He brought into being. He did not plan for people to live under sickeness and death.

Some commentators dismis anger and stick with compassion. Some commentators suggest that anger was softened to compassion to fit in with people’s understanding of Jesus. I am challenged by anger. Like most people I get angry about things – usually the wrong things! I can remember a few weeks ago getting very angry with a minor celebrity who said that her misscarriage was a punishment from God!

I have just returned home from a family visit. My mother isn’t doing so well. She is slowly, but surely, physically falling apart – wear and tear in just about every bodily system. In one of her many hospital visits, the doctor was doing some kind of scan and suggested they look lat her gall bladder to see if she didn’t have gallstones. My mother, ever the humourist, reminded him that the doctor s had removed her gall bladder many years ago so quite where the gallstones were hiding out might prove a mystery!

My mum is fragile. It is not just the physical body that is being eroded, but courage and confidence is also being dismantled.

This is not the world that Jesus planned for her. It’s not punishemnt from God for sin. It is just the fallen world falling on her and crushing her at times.

It’s no wonder Jesus gets angry!