Devotionals

Things That Were Not Foretold: Holy Week Edition

~ Natalie Hart ~ Leave a comment
An image of a large ancient tree with thick roots above the soil and a leafy canopy.

This time of year we hear a lot about how every part in the crucifixion and resurrection stories were foretold, either by an Old Testament prophet or Jesus, himself.

Which, oddly, makes the resurrection not the twist of the story–for us, anyway. For the disciples and followers, even though they’d been told, it was a massive twist they just couldn’t imagine or expect. All their awareness of the events as foretold came in hindsight. John says,

His disciples didn’t understand at the time that this was a fulfillment of prophecy. But after Jesus entered into his glory, they remembered what had happened and realized that these things had been written about him. (John 12:16)

So if the triumphal entry (Zech 9:9), crucifixion (Psalm 22:1,16,18) (Isaiah 53:5,7) (Matt 20:17-19), and resurrection (Matt 20: 17-19) (Mark 9:30-32) (Isaiah 53:10–11) are foretold, what is not foretold? What is unexpected?

Jesus starts a new family.

That new family is us, his followers. Before the crucifixion, Jesus refers to his disciples and followers his friends (John 15:15), but he mostly doesn’t call them anything. While he is on the cross, we see this:

Standing near the cross were Jesus’ mother, and his mother’s sister, Mary (the wife of Clopas), and Mary Magdalene. When Jesus saw his mother standing there beside the disciple he loved*, he said to her, “Dear woman, here is your son.” And he said to this disciple, “Here is your mother.” And from then on this disciple took her into his home. (John 19:25-27)

Jesus is in physical and spiritual agony, but he takes care of his mother and his followers by making them family to each other.

He hinted at this when he was speaking to a crowd and his mother and brothers were outside demanding to speak with him:

Jesus asked, “Who is my mother? Who are my brothers?” Then he pointed to his disciples and said, “Look, these are my mother and brothers. Anyone who does the will of my Father in heaven is my brother and sister and mother!” (Matt 12:46-50)

Because we aren’t only each other’s family, we are Jesus’s family.

He cements it when Mary Magdalene sees the resurrected Jesus and he tells her to go tell his brothers he’s alive (Matt 28:10, John 20:17).

This developed into a beautiful theology of being adopted into God’s family (Eph 1:5), all of us (no matter our gender or birth order) having the status of honored sons and heirs (Rom 8:16-17) who are able to call Jesus brother and God Papa (Rom 8:15)–connecting all believers throughout history and on earth right now as family.

Unexpected, not foretold, and a glorious twist in the story.

Thank you to Rev. Mike C. Desotell of Trinity United Methodist Church in Grand Rapids, MI for this insight.

* Insert eyeroll at John referring to himself as the disciple Jesus loved.

Emotional Disregulation: Holy Week Edition

~ Natalie Hart ~ Leave a comment
An image of three white doves at the edge of a cage.

In Luke’s account of Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem, Jesus’ reaction to all the praise and noise and joy of the people lining his path with their coats and waving palm branches was to weep. The word Luke chose, klaio, means “to sob, to wail aloud.”

But as he came closer to Jerusalem and saw the city ahead, he began to weep. “How I wish today that you of all people would understand the way to peace.” (Luke 19:41-42)

Jesus was ugly-crying for the fate of all those who don’t understand the way to peace, which makes Jesus’s reaction at the Temple make so much more sense:

Then Jesus entered the Temple and began to drive out the people selling animals for sacrifices. He said to them, “The Scriptures declare, ‘My Temple will be a house of prayer,’ but you have turned it into a den of thieves.” (vv. 45-46)

He was already emotionally disregulated, all up in his feelings, overwrought. Which makes it much more likely that he’d amp up the emotion rather than dial it down when frustrated–he is, after all, fully human, and experienced our very human emotions.

He’d seen the commerce around the Temple before. He’d gone there when he was 12 and repeatedly during his ministry to teach and to heal people. It was a normal part of religious life then, just like it’s a normal part of religious life now to sell items to guide our spiritual practices. And his general tendency was to stay calm, even in chaotic and adversarial situations.

But this time, when he was already upset and frustrated with the people who kept not understanding what he was about, he lashed out at the animal sellers and money changers. Literally. John gives more detail*, telling us that Jesus braided a whip on the spot, drove out animals, and turned over tables and shouted, “Stop turning my Father’s house into a marketplace!” (John 2:13-16)

I wonder if Jesus was a little embarrassed after that. I wonder if he had a conversation with God about it.

Father, I know people need animals for sacrifices and they can’t always carry them from home. I know it wasn’t the best way to deal those sellers. I know they reorganized a little ways away from me and were back at it that same day. But I wasn’t wrong. People think they need to have money to approach you, that rich people get more access to you. You and I both know that isn’t the case. But, yes, I didn’t go about it in the way I should’ve. I bet they’ll remember it, though!

And we have remembered it.

When I think of this story now, I will have compassion for a weeping man who couldn’t stop himself from ramping up his anger. And maybe I’ll have compassion for myself when I do the same.

  • I know that John tells this story as happening at the beginning of Jesus’s ministry, right after the wedding at Cana. So either Jesus began and ended his ministry by cleansing the Temple or John isn’t fussy about timelines. We cannot know, and I’m OK with that.

And Jesus Wept, Holy Week Edition

~ Natalie Hart ~ Leave a comment
A bright green image of interlocking palm branches.

The images of Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem right before Passover are celebratory. Jesus riding on a borrowed donkey, his saddle the coats of his disciples, the road in front of him covered in more cloaks and even palm branches cut down from trees lining the road. The people praising the Lord, singing, and shouting Hosannas and calling Jesus a king.

“Blessings on the King who comes in the name of the Lord!
    Peace in heaven, and glory in highest heaven!” (Luke 19:38 NLT)

What does Jesus do in the middle of this noise and excitement? He accepts the praise,

But as he came closer to Jerusalem and saw the city ahead, he began to weep. (Luke 19:41)

Spiritual director Lorilyn Wiering describes Jesus as sobbing loudly:

Luke does not use the Greek word that described how Jesus wept at the tomb of his friend Lazarus, dakruo, which means to weep silently, but chooses instead the verb klaio, which means “to sob, to wail aloud.”

Jesus ugly-cries, in public, for the people who have not listened. Who have not recognized that God was among them.

How I wish today that you of all people would understand the way to peace. (Luke 19:42)

Who do not understand the way to peace.

The glorious scene, the people praising God, singing, shouting, dancing, it’s all for him. He accepts it, but doesn’t focus on himself. He focuses on those who will choose destruction over the peace he offers.

Jesus is experiencing the highest of highs and, simultaneously, a low so low that he cannot hide his loud, ugly-crying.

That’s how much he loves you and me. That’s how much he wants us to have that peace.

Jesus Doesn’t Need Me to be a Trad Wife

The painting Christ in the House of Martha and Mary, painted by Jan Vermeer van Delft in 1654, in the National Galleries of Scotland
~ Natalie Hart ~ Leave a comment
The painting Christ in the House of Martha and Mary, painted by Jan Vermeer van Delft in 1654, in the National Galleries of Scotland

One of my favorite Bible reading tools is to ask:

“What does this passage tell me about God? What does it tell me about who God is?”

That may sound obvious, but far too often, I make myself the center of biblical passages.

“What does this passage tell me about how I’m supposed to believe? What does this passage tell me about how I’m supposed to behave?”

I’ve long struggled with the story of Mary and Martha when Jesus and the disciples (and probably other followers) descended upon their house in Bethany:

As Jesus and the disciples continued on their way to Jerusalem, they came to a certain village where a woman named Martha welcomed him into her home. Her sister, Mary, sat at the Lord’s feet, listening to what he taught. But Martha was distracted by the big dinner she was preparing. She came to Jesus and said, “Lord, doesn’t it seem unfair to you that my sister just sits here while I do all the work? Tell her to come and help me.”

But the Lord said to her, “My dear Martha, you are worried and upset over all these details! There is only one thing worth being concerned about. Mary has discovered it, and it will not be taken away from her.” Luke 10:38-42 (NLT)

I feel like the story is unfair to Martha. Both because I tend to be a Martha, seeking approval through doing, and because someone had to feed those men and their culture decreed that it would be the women. I’d come to an understanding that it’s a cautionary tale about not letting your service make you bitter, and about thinking Jesus is more impressed with you when you do, do, do. It’s a story about trying to work out your own salvation.

But what does that story say about Jesus? Not about me?

Jesus does not think the only way for a woman to serve him is in the kitchen. Jesus does not expect women to be bound by their cultural traditions.

This may not sound all that shocking, but in the U.S. these days, conservative evangelical Christian men feel like they are having a moment and are all over social media telling women that they need to become quiet and demure and re-learn to serve men, and “trad wives” are all over social media performing their labor-intensive kitchen duties in pretty dresses and perfect makeup.

So the absolute simplicity of Jesus in this story is refreshing. He was given the opportunity to say,

“You’re right Martha. Mary, what are you doing? You dare to sit here as if you belong with the men, talking about the kingdom of God! Get in the kitchen and help your sister.”

But he didn’t. He said,

“It’s more important to listen to me and rest in my presence.”

Do I want Jesus to have said, “Disciples, you get to listen to me all the time and Mary and Martha don’t. Get in the kitchen and rustle us up a meal so they can be with me.”

Yes. Yes, I do. But Luke doesn’t report that. And Luke doesn’t record the disciples’ response to this. Were they shocked? Annoyed? Did any of them leap up and go to the kitchen so Martha could sit at Jesus’ feet? I’d love to know. Maybe I will some day.

But for now, as a follower of Jesus, I take heart that Jesus doesn’t expect women who follow him to follow tradition. He approves of women who flout tradition. Jesus thinks it is a great use of our time to listen to him and rest, even revel, in his presence.

I’m a Martha and I might finally understand the Mary/Martha story

The painting Christ in the House of Martha and Mary, painted by Jan Vermeer van Delft in 1654, in the National Galleries of Scotland
~ Natalie Hart ~ Leave a comment
A painting of Christ in the House of Martha and Mary by Jan Vermeer van Delft, painted in 1654, and currently in the National Galleries of Scotland .

As Jesus and the disciples continued on their way to Jerusalem, they came to a certain village where a woman named Martha welcomed him into her home. Her sister, Mary, sat at the Lord’s feet, listening to what he taught. But Martha was distracted by the big dinner she was preparing. She came to Jesus and said, “Lord, doesn’t it seem unfair to you that my sister just sits here while I do all the work? Tell her to come and help me.”

But the Lord said to her, “My dear Martha, you are worried and upset over all these details! There is only one thing worth being concerned about. Mary has discovered it, and it will not be taken away from her.”

Luke 10:38-42 (NLT)

Every time I teach the Mary and Martha story I feel uncomfortable because I think it’s unfair to Martha.

Jesus and the disciples didn’t come with food. Neither did Jesus tell the disciples to prepare the meal so Mary and Martha could both listen to him. They arrived expecting food and in their culture women were expected to prepare and serve it. The disciples didn’t have jobs when they followed Jesus but relied on the charity and hospitality of people they met on their travels, which were all by foot. There’s a good chance they were hungry, and possibly hangry when they arrived at Martha’s house. It would have been a lot of work to prepare food for over a dozen hungry/hangry men, making everything from scratch with no refrigeration or machines to help you.

None of these are trifling details.

Also, I tend to be a Martha, preparing food for gatherings of people (unless my mother is also at the gathering, because she has perfected the skill of slipping away and doing everything), so I’m inclined to be sympathetic to her.

I’ve been able to approach the story by seeing Martha’s problem as being bitter about being stuck in the kitchen. If Martha had been joyful about preparing the food and was able to say generously, “I hope Mary remembers everything Jesus says so she can tell me later,” then all would have been fine.

But I was recently preparing the story for another leader to tell it and I experienced it in a new way, as about pursuing the approval of Jesus.

Trying to impress Jesus

It’s not hard to imagine Martha working away, sweeping the floors, chopping and mixing and hustling between the house and oven in the courtyard, and lifting more big ceramic jars out of storage, calculating the amount of food and number of guests, thinking to herself,

“Jesus will be so impressed at the table I’m setting for him and the disciples. He’s always so happy to come to my house. I always put out such a great spread. He can always count on my welcome.”

At some point, she becomes worried that her own work won’t be enough to make the right impression.

“Where is Mary? Why isn’t she helping? She can’t expect me to put out our usual abundant spread all on my own.”

She peeks into the main room and sees Mary sitting at the feet of Jesus.

“All this work I’m putting in to make sure that Jesus is happy, and Mary’s doing nothing! Jesus will back me up. After all, how else will all these men get fed?”

Martha craves the words of approval and thanks she gets from Jesus when they are together. Who wouldn’t? But Mary’s the one who gets Jesus’ words of praise and approval. For doing nothing but listening.

This made me think of the story of Jesus’ baptism, when God’s said, “This is my Son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased” (Matthew 3:17 NIV). Jesus had done nothing in his ministry yet. Not a blessed thing. And still God was well pleased with him.

Martha’s problem wasn’t as much that she was doing, doing, doing as that she was doing, doing, doing to make Jesus well pleased with her. Kind of like how obeying biblical Law isn’t a problem in itself, but basing your entire faith practice and the worth of people on how strictly they follow the Law is a problem (see all of Jesus’ comments about Pharisees and religious people).

Those are not what impress Jesus.

What impresses Jesus

Do you crave his voice? Are you listening to him? No matter what else you do or don’t do, that will always be the right choice.

If only you would listen to his voice today!

Psalm 95:7b

And, as if speaking to Martha’s becoming-bitter heart, this is the beginning of the next verse:

The Lord says, “Don’t harden your hearts…

Psalm 95:8a

As a do-er, Martha is a continual cautionary tale for me. I know the difference between work that I do for Jesus that flows out of love and generosity and work that morphs into bitterness because I’m just working so hard all on my own and nobody is noticing but everyone is expecting me to do it. And that pesky trying-to-work-out-my-own-salvation thing, that trying-to-DO-my-way-into-Jesus’-approval thing is there, too.

Dr. John Perkins once said at my former church,

“I’m about to overcome my working for salvation.”

And he was 89. He’d just recovered from cancer treatment. Not to mention the fact that he was tortured and beaten to within an inch of his life by white police officers yet refused to give in to bitterness and hatred and has been working and preaching for racial reconciliation in the Christian church for decades (15 honorary degrees, 18 books published). He’s just now about to overcome working for his salvation.

So I’m in good company. Recovering Marthas, you’re in good company, too. Let’s keep on being made uncomfortable by this story so we, too, will get closer and closer to overcoming the need to work for our salvation. Jesus offers it. We just have to say yes, and listen.

You don’t need to be tired in order to rest

~ Natalie Hart ~ Leave a comment

I’ve been reading the First Nations Version: An Indigenous Translation of the New Testament. And I love it. The translators call it “not a word-for-word translation, but rather it is a thought-for-thought translation,” with naming conventions, word choices, and cultural items being chosen to make it resonate with First Nations readers. For example, in Matthew 13:33, Creator Sets Free (Jesus) tells a story:

Again, think of the good road from above to be like the yeast a grandmother uses when she makes frybread dough. She mixes a little yeast into three big batches of flour. Then the yeast spreads throughout the dough, causing it to rise.

This is what that verse is in the New Living Translation: “The Kingdom of Heaven is like the yeast a woman used in making bread. Even though she put only a little yeast in three measures of flour, it permeated every part of the dough.”

I love the swap of “good road from above” for “kingdom of heaven,” because I know what it is to be on a good road, but kingdoms asks me to do some cultural context work. I’m enjoying the use of titles or what the name means for every person and every place that is mentioned. And those little touches, like referring to fry bread, help me come to the stories fresh, even though I’ve read them many times. Seeing different cultural contexts in familiar verses make me realize how specific the ancient Israelite culture was that the Bible was written in.

This translation has a Prologue, which I loved, and I normally resent Prologues. They take a few pages to put the New Testament in context by telling the story of Creator and human beings and the treaties they made with each other and how human beings keep breaking them and Creator keeps seeking restoration. The line that got me was this:

On the seventh day the Great Spirit rested from his work of creation, not because he was tired but because he was finished.

Not because he was tired but because he was finished

It made me tear up because I realized that I’ve been conflating the Jesus is rest for the weary verse and the God resting on the seventh day verse. We are often weary, especially spiritually weary from trying to fit into the boxes religious communities make for us. And Jesus’ perfect love provides rest from that business. But nowhere in the Bible does it say that in order to rest, we must be weary, that only the tired get to rest.

The New Living Translation also highlights that God rested because the work of creation was finished. God’s work in general wasn’t done. Just that part. And he rested. But there was something about how the First Nations Versions put it that flipped the switch for me.

So why do I twist myself into knots trying to figure out when I’ve done enough to deserve rest? Why do I withhold it from my own self until I’m exhausted and snapping at everyone I love? Why questions don’t have easy answers, so while I pursue them, I’m making this my new mantra:

You don’t need to be tired in order to rest

When you’re in a goo time

Photo by Dan Cristian Pădureț on Unsplash
~ Natalie Hart ~ 2 Comments
Photo by <a href="https://unsplash.com/@dancristianpaduret?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText">Dan Cristian Pădureț</a> on <a href="https://unsplash.com/photos/mAvD5iOVMZE?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText">Unsplash</a>

We love to talk about caterpillars turning into butterflies. It’s such an encouraging story that we totally make about ourselves:

Even though you may start out crawling on your belly in the dirt, eventually your true colors will emerge and your wings will unfurl and you will fly like you were always meant to.

That’s glamorous.

But that isn’t what happens to caterpillars. They don’t enter chrysalis and curl up in there all cozy growing wings.

They become goo.

Whatever is happening while the caterpillar transforms is not pretty. It digests itself. If it happened without the protection of the chrysalis on our deck or sidewalk, we’d probably think something had decomposed or rotted and we’d spray it away with the hose so we wouldn’t have to look at it anymore.

But the caterpillar is supposed to become goo. Turning into soup is a crucial part of the transformation. We know this, but it’s also mysterious.

Which makes me think of the events my Christian tradition remembers this weekend. Today (Good Friday) we commemorate Jesus’s death and his three days being dead before God makes him alive again (Easter). What happened 2000+ years ago for these three days is a mystery. We get hints from what Jesus said while he was on the cross.

At about three o’clock, Jesus called out with a loud voice, “Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?” which means “My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?

Matthew 27:46 (NLT)

So Jesus was alone, abandoned by the father who he always felt in complete oneness with.

But the other criminal protested, “Don’t you fear God even when you have been sentenced to die? We deserve to die for our crimes, but this man hasn’t done anything wrong.” Then he said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your Kingdom.”

And Jesus replied, “I assure you, today you will be with me in paradise.”

Luke 23:40-43 (NLT)

At some point of time, Jesus would be in paradise.

But the specifics are a mystery.

Whatever happened to Jesus changed him so much that people who had followed him didn’t recognize him. Mary Magdalene sees him when he’s alive again and thinks he’s the gardener; she doesn’t recognize him until he says her name. The men on the road to Emmaus walked and talked with him for hours and didn’t recognize him until he broke bread in front of them.

We don’t know what Jesus was doing during those 3 days, so I like to think of him as in his goo time — in between his ministry on earth and his ministry untethered to the soil, transitioning from his time as fully-human-and-fully-divine to fully divine. What form did he take? Was it painful? Pleasant? When did he return to oneness with the Father?

Maybe I like to think of it as Jesus’s goo time because I experience goo times, too.

I’m going through one right now, when I know what was but I don’t know what will be and I feel all messy and chaotic and anxious but also hopeful.

Both Jesus and the butterfly get through their goo times in similar ways.

  • There’s no rushing the process. Jesus said it would take 3 days, so it took 3 days. Caterpillars have different chrysalis periods, depending on whether the conditions are right for the caterpillar to feed and reproduce. It might take a few weeks, or it might take a few years. I hate this. Because I have no idea how long my goo time is going to last and a number of steps are not up to me.
  • Trust that you have what you need. Jesus understood what was going to happen to him. It’s why he didn’t want to do it, and why he also submitted to it. He knew he had what he needed to get through it. A caterpillar has all the genetic material it needs to digest and then transform itself. I hate this slightly less. Because I know that I have the love and the presence of God, and the gift of the Holy Spirit, and the intercession of Jesus. And people who love me. And a whole lot of actual things that I need. I have worked through goo times before. Still, it’s not exactly fun to be soup.

How do you get through your goo times? Does it annoy you that sometimes you don’t get much of a waiting period between said goo times? Just me?

Do Christians follow their leader or his first followers?

screengrab of Derek Sivers How to Start a Movement
~ Natalie Hart ~ Leave a comment

This short TED Talk (Derek Sivers’s, “How to Start a Movement”) tells the story of a man dancing alone at a music festival, how first one person joined him, and then another, until crowds were running to join the dance. It’s only 3 minutes long and kind of funny.

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I’m always struck by this observation: “New followers emulate the followers, not the leader.” I can’t help but think of Jesus and his first followers, who constantly got him wrong even though they had him right there with them.

They left everything to follow him but didn’t understand who he was

They’d been with Jesus for some time, watching him heal and preach, and argue with religious leaders. One day, when they were sailing across a lake, a dangerous storm came up. The followers wake up the napping Jesus, who tells off the wind and waves, which makes them calm.

The disciples were terrified and amazed. “Who is this man?” they asked each other. “When he gives a command, even the wind and waves obey him!” (Luke 8:25)

Peter is the only one who will say it out loud

In Luke, after they feed the 5,000 with 5 loaves of bread and 2 fish, Jesus asks them point blank who they think he is, and only one gives the answer:

One day Jesus left the crowds to pray alone. Only his disciples were with him, and he asked them, “Who do people say I am?”

“Well,” they replied, “some say John the Baptist, some say Elijah, and others say you are one of the other ancient prophets risen from the dead.”

Then he asked them, “But who do you say I am?”

Peter replied, “You are the Messiah sent from God!” (Luke 9:18-20)

I imagine all of them silent and nervous about Jesus’s question, either because they aren’t sure or they’re afraid to get it wrong, and then Peter blurts it out (as he often does).

They are obsessed with greatness

Jesus ate with the despised and rejected, healed people no matter their socio-economic status, and constantly beefed with the authorities, but his first followers were obsessed with greatness. In Matthew 18 they ask Jesus who was the greatest in the Kingdom of Heaven. In Mark 9 Jesus confronts them about their “who’s the greatest” argument on the road. In Luke 9 they argue about which of them was the greatest. In Luke 22 (at the Last Supper) they argue about who would be the greatest. In each instance, Jesus gives a similar response:

“Whoever wants to be first must take last place and be the servant of everyone else.” Then he put a little child among them. Taking the child in his arms, he said to them, “Anyone who welcomes a little child like this on my behalf welcomes me, and anyone who welcomes me welcomes not only me but also my Father who sent me.” (Mark 9:35-37)

He even has to correct his first followers for preventing parents from bringing children to him to be blessed: “Let the children come to me. Don’t stop them! For the Kingdom of Heaven belongs to those who are like these children” (Matthew 19:14).

They didn’t get that his theology was so different from what they grew up with

When the followers see a man blind from birth, their question to Jesus, “Who sinned, this man or his parents?” sounds odd to our ears, but reveals their theological assumption: if you are sick or suffering, it’s a punishment for something you’ve done or something your family has done–you deserve it. But Jesus says something radical:

“It was not because of his sins or his parents’ sins,” Jesus answered. “This happened so the power of God could be seen in him.” (John 9:2-3)

This was a radical healing all around. By making it so a man born blind could not only see, but understand what he was seeing, Jesus put everyone around this man in a tizzy. He got dragged in front of the Pharisees, some of whom were upset because this healing took place on the Sabbath (when nobody was supposed to work) while others thought the healer must be from God. They hauled in his parents to ask them what they thought of this Jesus who healed him. Kept grilling the man, who could only repeat what his experience was until they threw him out of the synagogue.

They didn’t get that he challenged the status quo on purpose

Jesus has been arguing with the Pharisees about what makes a person “unclean” or “defiled.” The Pharisees ask him about ritual hand cleaning and Jesus ups the ante by talking about how what you say reveals the state of your heart. Jesus draws a crowd to tell them,

“It’s not what goes into your mouth that defiles you; you are defiled by the words that come out of your mouth.”

Then the disciples came to him and asked, “Do you realize you offended the Pharisees by what you just said?” (v.11-12)

He sure did! He already told the Pharisees, “you cancel the word of God for the sake of your own tradition. You hypocrites!” And goes on to call them the blind leading the blind. The followers’ “do you realize you offended the Pharisees” is kinda sweet, but reveals that they didn’t understand Jesus’s ministry.

One of them betrayed him

Judas has always sounded to me like a disillusioned true believer: Jesus wasn’t who Judas thought he was, so he set Jesus up so the authorities could arrest him. In Matthew, the last straw for Judas seems to be when Jesus allows the woman to anoint his feet with very expensive oil. But whatever it was, he goes to the people plotting to kill Jesus and offers to hand him over. Then he follows through and does it.

Even Jesus seems surprised 

At the Last Supper, when Jesus is trying to sum up his entire ministry for the disciples who will be charged with spreading his message, his followers are still confused about who Jesus is.

Philip said, “Lord, show us the Father, and we will be satisfied.”

Jesus replied, “Have I been with you all this time, Philip, and yet you still don’t know who I am? Anyone who has seen me has seen the Father! So why are you asking me to show him to you? Don’t you believe that I am in the Father and the Father is in me?  (John 14:8-11) 

They never understood what the kingdom was

Even at the very end of Jesus’ time on earth, post-resurrection, his closest followers still didn’t get what he was all about:

 So when the apostles were with Jesus, they kept asking him, “Lord, has the time come for you to free Israel and restore our kingdom?” (Acts 1:6) 

They were with him for 3 years, hearing him speak, able to ask him anything, sharing meals, travelling the country, hanging out with him after he died, and they still didn’t understand that Jesus was not about kicking out the Romans and restoring Israel’s political power.

So what about us?

We’re supposed to be following Jesus, not the first followers. But we’re only human. Like they were. It seems inevitable that we would be like those first followers: not understanding who Jesus is and what he’s about, obsessed with the wrong things, not grasping just how deeply Jesus challenges rules-based religion.

Sivers wants his listeners to embrace the crucial role that first followers play:

“First follower is an underrated form of leadership…. Have the courage to follow and show others how to follow.”

For Christians, I’d change it a little:

“Have the courage to follow the leader (Jesus) and show others how to follow the leader (not you).”

I’m glad we’ve got the example of the disciples and all the ways they get things right and wrong. It means we get to be aware of our human tendencies to get obsessed with the wrong things and to see Jesus through our own cultural lenses. But we are also aware that we are to be Christlike, not disciplelike. We are to be first followers, ourselves, enticing others to join the dance. 

Oh to be nourished like a tree by a riverside

The wide, even growth rings of a well nourished tree that grew by a river.
~ Natalie Hart ~ Leave a comment

 

Oh, the joys of those who … delight in the law of the Lord,
    meditating on it day and night.
They are like trees planted along the riverbank,
    bearing fruit each season. (Psalm 1:1-2)

I love this image of people fed so consistently by the Word of God that they have a healthy spirituality — strong and flexible, able to withstand adversity, resistant to theological diseases and pests, bearing fruit that makes a difference in their relationships and their world.

Bearing fruit

In the past, I’ve focused on the “bearing fruit in each season” part, making posters with Sunday school kids of a tree by a riverbank that is bearing every kind of fruit we could think of. A poster of a well nourished tree by the riverside growing every kind of fruit, drawn by Sunday school kids.

This involved a bit of biblical sleight-of-hand. The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, and self-control. Because the singular fruit is many traits, which are all supposed to be growing in and through us, we could illustrate that idea through one tree with many fruits.

Being nourished

But then I saw this tree stump at my parents’ property.

The wide, even growth rings of a well nourished tree that grew by a river.

Now I can’t get it out of my head. Every single growth ring is the same, wide size.

The growth rings of a wee nourished tree that grew by a river are wider than my thumb.

This tree grew where a stream flowed into a river. It was constantly nourished, always receiving what it needed for good growth. So it grew steadily.

My own spiritual development has tended to be more like this tree’s, slow and inconsistent:

The uneven growth rings of a tree that grew in a crowded forest.

This tree grew in a crowded forest, near the top of a long hill. The rings are much closer together, and they vary in width, showing the effect of variations in precipitation and light.

Growth is still growth

Both trees have something in common, though: they grew.

Is it terrible to grow slowly and unevenly like the tree in the forest? No. It was well over 100 years old before it was cut down. It provided beauty and shade, sucked in carbon dioxide and pumped out oxygen, and fed countless birds and insects in its lifetime. Those are good fruits.

Is it better to grow quickly? No. One of my cousins still remembers the year he grew 6″ in a year–the aches and pains kept him up at night. And anyone who pays attention to tech news knows of plenty of companies that grew fast with loads of buzz and venture capital and then tanked just as quickly when consumers didn’t respond.

Does it just sound better to be consistently nourished like a tree that grows by the riverside? Yes. 

The frustrating part is that it’s on me that I’m not that riverside tree. I don’t meditate on the Word day and night. I don’t regularly choose to rest in God’s presence. Oh, I’ve had those seasons of wide-ring growth, and they were good. Well, the actual season was often horrible, but I remember how my spirit felt–strong and flexible, able to withstand adversity, resistant to theological diseases and pests, bearing fruit that made a difference in my relationships and my world.

I’m going to put the riverside tree photo where I can see it every day to remind myself of the difference consistent nourishment makes.

Do whatever you need to do

An image of red ribbons inscribed with prayers in an Art Prize entry
~ Natalie Hart ~ Leave a comment

An image of red ribbons inscribed with prayers in an Art Prize entry

“Listen, O Israel! The Lord is our God, the Lord is one. And you must love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your soul, and all your strength. And you must commit yourselves wholeheartedly to these commands that I am giving you today. Repeat them again and again to your children. Talk about them when you are at home and when you are on the road, when you are going to bed and when you are getting up. Tie them to your hands and wear them on your forehead as reminders. Write them on the doorposts of your house and on your gates.   (Deuteronomy 6:4-9)

This reminds me of when my children were in middle school and kept not doing assignments:

Write it in your planner when your teacher tells you to. Open your planner as soon as you get home. Keep it out until you’re finished. Check your homework and your backpack every day. Listen to your teacher. Talk to me about what you need. Ask questions if you don’t understand. Do whatever you need to do to so you actually do your homework!

The passage reeks of desperation.

Which makes sense.

The Israelites are gathered on the East bank of the Jordan River. It’s been 40 years since they escaped from slavery in Egypt — 40 years instead of 40ish days because of their repeated disobedience and fear-based decisions. They are getting ready to finally claim the land that God promised them, but first Moses tells them their history from his and God’s perspective.

It’s not a glowing report.

They quarreled, and complained, and rebelled over and over and over. Yes, they took that first step into the Red Sea and watched it part so they could walk through to freedom, but no encouragement to trust God worked after that. Their fear and anxiety got in their own way again and again.

Moses also reminds them of all the ways that God kept showing up–feeding them, guiding them, empowering their leaders, listening to their complaints, displaying his glory, speaking to them, giving them victories in battle.

When Moses retells the story of the giving of the ten commandments he notes that, “The Lord our God made a covenant with us at Mount Sinai. The Lord did not make this covenant with our ancestors, but with all of us who are alive today (Deut. 5:2-3).” God is in relationship with them now, them specifically.

And all God asks is that the people trust him, that they love him, and that they live out love and trust. Moses asks that they remember what God has done for and with them and what he has promised to do for and with them, and that they tell themselves and their children those stories regularly — because that remembering and telling will help them trust and obey God.

The stories we tell ourselves are important.

So let’s feel Moses’ desperation for us to live up to our end of the covenant and do whatever we need to do to remember what God has done for and with us, what God has promised to do for and with us. Download an app, download 5 apps, stack a Bible reading habit with a habit you already have, make a mental list, make a physical list, post the list on your wall, write it on a ribbon, stuff it in a jar, keep it in the notes in your phone, talk it out while on a walk, take photos that remind you.

You are God’s beloved, his child, his treasure. You don’t have to do anything to earn God’s love, but remembering and telling your specific stories will help you trust God, love God, and live out that love and trust.

What do you do to help you remember your history with God?