A Stumbler's Walk | THE MOST IMPORTANT QUESTION

Jesus asked them a question, saying, "What do you think about the Christ? Whose son is he?"

--Matthew 22:42

It is an interesting turn of the tables. Different religious groups with different beliefs and agendas have been peppering Jesus with testing questions. They try to trip him up. They try to prove themselves right and justified.

The problem? The Author of Life doesn't stumble. (He is undefeated in Bible Trivia.) And try as we might, we fail miserably when we attempt to compare our religious righteousness with his blazing perfection.

Having patiently listened and answered, now Jesus asks a question. He could have scorched them at a cellular level or done an Indiana Jones face-melt at their audacity and false piety. But he listened. As wrong as these men were, Jesus was about to face the cruelty of the cross for them (and us). As unlovable as self-righteousness can be, he loved them.

So he asked them a question. What do you think about the Christ...?

I'm drawn back to a similar question Jesus asked the disciples one day. Walking along he asked the group what the people were saying about him - who they thought he was. Then (in my mind's eye) he stopped and faced them. With eyes that had seen the sudden birth of a trillion stars he looked into their fiber, and asked, "Who do YOU say that I am?"

It is really the ultimate question with which we must deal. Who is this Jesus? I want to follow up with, "And what difference does it make?" But the second question is completely unnecessary and irrelevant. Our answer to the first is everything.

Jesus cannot be placed in a pile of powerless religious figures. Nor can he be simply a good man, teacher and role-model. His claims about himself rule these out. He must either be discarded as crazily dangerous or he must be bowed to as King of Glory.

What do you think of the Christ... Who do you say that I am?

God, you are King of the Universe; you are my friend.

For now...
D

A Stumbler's Walk | THE JERSEY

And the crowds that went before him and that followed him were shouting, "Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord! Hosanna in the highest!" 

-- Matthew 21:9

Crowds are safe... as long as you don't stand out. 

Wearing a Raiders Jersey at Arrowhead Stadium, for instance, is not a great idea. Wearing Chiefs' red in Oakland (soon Vegas) is inviting bodily harm.  

On the day we now call The Triumphal Entry crowds surrounded Jesus and his small band. All were wearing Jesus jerseys (if you'll allow me). All were cheering crazily for the new hero. 

It is safe to cheer when the crowd cheers. A few days after this parade the cheers would stop. The crowd would disperse. Jerseys would be burned or hidden away. 

It is easy to follow Jesus when it is easy to follow Jesus. (A redundant, but true statement.) The test of faith comes however, when the crowd is not wearing the same jersey. There come times when circumstances, obstacles, people or storms would make it easier to sport different colors. 

It is at these times we truly discover the depth of our faith. 

The celebration of a Triumphant Entry through the city gate will eventually lead to a lonely bloody cross-carrying march out the back. Jesus is no longer popular. And following him can become costly. 

It is at these times we discover who we really are - and are becoming; who this Jesus really is; and the power of true faith that overwhelms the onslaught. (Maybe better - true faith that, although knocked down 99 times, finds the wobbly strength to get up the 100th.) 

Holy week begins with a celebration. It grows stunningly somber. Then quiet (dead). 

But I will wear the jersey. I will stumble, fall and get up to follow this Savior. Though the crowds will go away and Jesus will grow unpopular. 

Because I know what Sunday holds!

God, my jersey is torn and stained, but I will wear it until the celebration begins.

For now...

D

A Stumbler's Walk | FOCUSED DESPERATION

"What do you want me to do for you?"

-- Matthew 20:32

The men are blind, but see more clearly than most.

We don't know how many days, years or decades they sat on the well-traveled road outside town. Begging. Hopeful for scraps; but with no hope of a life.

Likely, they had never dreamed their lives could change. Change was not possible. They were desperate men. But their world was about to become dazzlingly bright.

One of the men was named Bartimaeus (Mark 10:46). Our names speak to our identity. They are part of who we are. Bartimaeus means "Son of Timaeus." When the baby was born blind, his parents spoke over his whole life by saying, "He's not even worthy of his own name, we'll just call him by a generic name for the length of his desperately sad life."

Our names speak to who we are... Who we become however, is only limited by the focus and intensity of our desperation.

A large crowd approaches. That is good news for the men. There is money in the crowd. Hopefully there is mercy (for beggars) in the crowd. Somehow they hear that Jesus is in the crowd. And suddenly the focus of their desperation turns from handouts to hands of healing.

They yell his name. Their desperate pitch interrupts the hum of the crowd. It makes people uncomfortable; so much so they are chastised for their audacity. Focused desperation doesn't care. It screams louder - and so did the men. Jesus notices (I think he saw them there by the gate long before they woke up that morning).

Jesus calls them to himself. They spring to their feet and stumble toward his voice; possibly tripping once or twice along the way, and eliciting muffled giggles by onlookers.

"What do you want me to do for you?" (He knew.)
"We want to see." (Intensely focused desperation doesn't have to fumble for an answer.)

Done. Sight. Dazzling brightness. A whole new world. A new direction in life. Hope. (And as a kicker, the first face these born-blind men ever see is that of a smiling Word-Became-Flesh Savior.)

Where is our desperation? Are we intensely focused and desperate for Jesus? Or are we content sitting by the roadside hoping for scraps?

He saw you before you woke up this morning, and he asks, "What do you want me to do for you?"

God, I want to see. 

For now...
D

A Stumbler's Walk | WHICH ONES?

He said to him, "Which ones?" 

-- Matthew 19:18

It is certainly an odd question to ask. At face value it seems innocuous. But the question reveals a darkness beneath.

We've come to know him as The Rich Young Man or The Rich Young Ruler. The titles are fitting. Matthew must have known him, or known about him. The young man may have been a Somebody in the region.

His problem was not in his wealth; at least, not in his material wealth. His money and stuff simply revealed his soul. Treasure exposes the heart.

For where your treasure is, 

there your heart will be also.

-- Jesus, Matthew 6:21

We often ask strange questions when attempting to justify ourselves or compare ourselves. Our questions reveal angles of the soul that are out of square. We skew the questions in hopes of receiving answers that fit our preconceptions - about ourselves, about others, about God.

When the light of truth shines on us - and into us - however, we are revealed. We are exposed.

And no creature is hidden from his sight, 

but all are naked and exposed to the eyes of him to whom we must give account. 

-- Hebrews 4:12

The progression is telling: Jesus had said the reality of God's kingdom can only be experienced by the humbly childlike. Then the disciples attempt to turn away children (and those bringing them) from Jesus, thinking more important matters are at hand. Jesus again makes the point of the necessity of childlike humility and reliance. Finally, a self-important and self-reliant man comes to Jesus.

Man: "What do I need to do...?"
Jesus: "Keep the commandments."
Man: "Which ones?"
Jesus: "Yes."

This guy likes the idea of spiritual enlightenment. Heaven and eternal life are a draw. But he is the opposite of kid-ness. He has a lock on some aspects of spiritual life and thinks he can impress Jesus with that. (As - I'm guessing - he daftly impressed others.) But in the end he is exposed.

Being exposed by Jesus is not a bad thing. It is actually a gift of grace. And it is in these moments that character and destiny are forged - for better or worse.

The Rich Young Ruler would be remembered quite differently had he fallen on his knees and humbled himself. We would applaud and high-five as the curtain fell on this act of the play. Sadly, it wasn't so. His stuff had him. He made a decision in that moment. He decided once again where his true treasure lay. And locked away in that vault was a dying heart.

God, help me not to be that guy.

For now...
D

A Stumbler's Walk | GREATEST

At that time the disciples came to Jesus, saying, "Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.? (And Jesus said) Whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. 

-- Matthew 18:1, 4

It strikes as an odd question; especially given the context.

Who is the greatest?

Not long before, a few of Jesus' followers had seen a most amazing thing - Jesus was transfigured right in front of them. Peter, James and John witnessed a heavenly glory shining on earth, through and around the water-walking carpenter to whom they had pledged themselves.

Now they are among those asking the question. (One of them may have asked it.) The quick answer to the question is... him. Who is the greatest? Jesus.

Oddly, that is not Jesus' answer. The Word become flesh didn't call on a heavenly chorus to sing his name in angelic harmony. Instead, he called over a child and said, "Do you you see this kid-ness, this lack of self-importance, this inability to see himself as better than or herself as self-sufficient? The one who humbles himself/herself to be truly childlike will begin to experience the greatness of heaven's kingdom."

Humility is not greatly prized in our society. We all cry out, "I am the greatest!" in some way. (Just scroll through social media feeds.) We compare ourselves, we rate ourselves... then we berate ourselves and others. Ultimately, our cries of I am the greatest! come from places of pain and misunderstanding.

It is bewildering the disciples could ask the question, Who is the greatest, after all they had seen. It is just as mystifying that I find myself quietly asking the same question from time to time.

God, help me to discover kid-ness. There is joy and safety in humility.

For now...
D

A Stumbler's Walk | NO FEAR

But Jesus came and touched them, saying, "Rise, and have no fear."

-- Matthew 17:7

Rise, and have no fear... For some this morning, that is enough. It is all we need to hear. 

Fear is debilitating. Fear can shut us down and drain our vitality. At the least, fear is a terrible motivator - actually, it is a demotivator. 

In the context of the passage, the disciples are awestruck with fear at the transfigurative glory of Jesus; and at a voice that comes from the sky. 

An awesome respect (sometimes translated fear) of God is wise and good. He is holy; he is other. And a glimpse of his glory will bring us to our knees. 

But there is a different fear. Rather than a focus on God's glory, this fear fixates our vision on the myriad opportunities before us to fail. This kind of fear does not mix well with faith. One tends to drive the other into submission. And one of the most deceptive - and covertly destructive - types of fear is the fear that we fail God. 

Rise, and have no fear... They were the words of Jesus to his followers on a hill outside Jerusalem. They are the words of a loving Savior to you and me on this Saturday morning. 

Rise, and have no fear... of the past. It is gone.

Rise, and have no fear... of the future. It is not here. 

Rise, and have no fear... now, in this moment. Jesus is present (as he was and as he will be). 

Rise, and have no fear. (Period)

God, drive my fear away with your presence. Take my hand, lift me up and let me see your smile.

For now...

D

A Stumbler's Walk | BREAD

O you of little faith, why are you discussing among yourselves the fact that you have no bread?

-- Matthew 16:8

We miss the point.

That's the point Jesus is making. In reality, it is an underlying theme of the Sermon on the Mount, many of Jesus' teachings, and his mission in general.

We tend to fixate on the temporal and miss the eternal. We stare at the surface and miss the depth. We focus on external and miss the heart... ours, others' and God's.

(Wow, I could go so many different directions with this... so at risk of chasing multiple rabbits, let's stick to context.)

The disciples think Jesus is chiding them because they have forgotten bread (again). Temporal... surface... external. It is easy for us, by the way, to disparage the disciples' short-sightedness. But we suffer from the same cataracts.

This Jesus who feeds tens of thousands with a Happy Meal is not limited by what we don't have. It is we who often limit ourselves by what we do have. We tend to believe God-sized results require (our) super-sized resources. And we are snared into thinking the primary gift we bring is our ability to be good enough, worthy enough, enough enough. (I've been asked if that's a typo. Nope - reread it.)

The disciples miss that Jesus is uncovering layers of dead religion. He is exposing what is false; that which so easily captures a heart and turns it cold. And just as he produces feasts from scraps, he brings life and vitality where oppression has suffocated.

He brings the eternal to the temporal. He brings depth to the surface. He brings heart to the external.

God, help me not to fixate on the temporal... the surface... the external. 

For now...
D