Dear Theophilus,
Can you imagine what it would have
been like to stand in the crowd, to see a woman whose own life has been
destroyed by the death of her only son be restored to life just as the young
man was? Surely there are few events in
human history that would draw forth tears from each and every bystander like
this one would! I’m sure word spread
like wildfire across the region, as each person that was there, and many who
were not, would tell and retell the details of the event to every person they
met. By the time the story reached
Jerusalem, I imagine it had been exaggerated ten times over, but even the
simple details are incredible.
Events like that make me want to
believe that all of this is true. Part
of me wonders if this is an event that is blown out of proportion by overeager
story-tellers, but this feels right. It
fits with the rest of the story, and I want to believe its authenticity. It makes me want to believe in Jesus, too—I
could follow a man who takes a special interest in restoring widows. By his simple act, two lives are
restored. Jesus knows that this is more
than a simple healing.
Yet, I can’t help but wonder why
more of these don’t still take place.
For those widows out there today, why don’t these type of healings occur
more often. If God has the power, why
doesn’t he use it more often? Would it
be so difficult for him to reach down and stir up some miracles in the lives of
his often desperate believers? Why are
miracles like this limited to particular times?
Wouldn’t it also make faith possible and easy for many others like me? If I had witnessed this firsthand, I’d be
following Jesus without a doubt. But
hearing about it afterward and wondering if it is too good to be true, I can’t
help but have my doubts.
I know that I stand in a long line
when it comes to people having their doubts about Jesus. Even John, the one who baptized Jesus, had
his doubts. You wouldn’t think that John
would have these, particularly after the events surrounding Jesus’
baptism. The man’s entire life and
ministry was based around the fact that he was preparing people for the arrival
of Jesus, and yet even this man, when he heard the details of was happening,
sent his disciples to Jesus to ask him whether he was the Messiah, or if there
were still to wait for someone else.
Jesus must have been amused at
their question, but in his own wonderful way he sensed their humble honesty in
the depths of their hearts. He knew they
didn’t come and ask out of a desire to debate him, and that they hadn’t arrived
in the hopes of mocking him. They
earnestly sought the truth as to his identity, Jesus’ reply is an answer that
amazes and confounds me. I will admit to
wanting a straightforward yes or no, and that his reply is the type that
engages the listener at a far deeper level, asking the questioner to come
forward and promising to meet him halfway.
Jesus has been busy curing people, casting out demons and restoring sight
to the blind, and he must have taken a moment to survey evidence of the
miracles that surrounded him before replying, “Tell John what you have seen and
the witness that you have heard, that the blind can see, the lame walk, the
deaf hear, the lepers are sick no more, the dead are restored to life and the
poor hear good news upon their ears. All
who are not offended by me are blessed.”
Jesus certainly gave John’s
disciples something to think about on the way home. It was a yes, I suppose, but a veiled
one. He turns John back to the world and
asks him if the evidence confirms his identity, and if it does, then John will
know the answer. It’s similar to what
you do, Theophilus, to all my questions.
You reply by pointing to the stories, to the world, and leave me to
answer the question on my own. I know in
my heart that’s what I must do, but I desire a strong yes or no beforehand,
even though it is apparent that such an answer is not coming.
Jesus turned from these disciples
to the crowd, addressing them harshly, calling them to a deeper discipleship,
to move beyond wonder and fascination into a place of faith. I don’t get the sense that Jesus has an issue
with those who are seeking the truth, but he takes the crowd to task for acting
like a crowd, for looking on and not following.
He first asks them what they
expected when they went to hear John in the wilderness. He wonders if they supposed he would be weak,
like any weed shaken by a strong wind.
He asks them if they expected to find a man of wealth and power who
would live in a palace and be dressed in the finest linens. John had captured the attention of the
people, but I think Jesus is addressing their surprise at his words, at his
message—it had some sharp edges upon which many were wounded, and some backed
away. But Jesus reminds the people that
the prophets of the Old Testament had looked forward to the messenger that God
would send ahead of the Messiah, and John was to be that messenger. No one born
of a woman would be greater, and yet even a man of his stature is lowly in the
kingdom of God.
You can see, Theophilus, how hard
much of this would be for a man or woman of traditional faith to take in. If you have been accustomed to one certain
brand of steady faith your entire life, it would be an enormous challenge for a
listener, for a witness, of Jesus’ words and actions to make sense of it
all. Perhaps I should be more astounded
that as many followed him as they did, because it would have been easy to
discount the man as crazy, yet everything he did reinforced what he said. Those who followed had tremendous
courage. Those who had chosen to be
baptized by John, to heed his message of repentance, took heart at what Jesus
had to say, believing that God’s justice was at work in the world. The Pharisees, however, and other power
brokers in that religious milieu, refused John’s baptism and, in so doing,
turned their backs on God’s calling for their lives. They didn’t want to fall before God and be
restored. Their pride prevented them
from doing so. Do I refuse out of
pride? Or is it just unknowing? Confusion?
I stand between the groups, between the sinners who believe themselves
to be saved and the sinners that Jesus rebukes for refusing to allow themselves
to be saved, and as I survey the landscape I see that those who follow Jesus
are in love with him and the life to which he calls them, but my heart tugs me
back, asking more questions, uncertain of such tumultuous changes that a life
of faith would bring.
Jesus continued before the crowd,
comparing the people in the generation to children who sit in the marketplace,
calling out that the others did not dance when the flute was played, that their
wailing was not joined with weeping.
Jesus asks the crowd why it was said that John had a demon when he
neither ate nor drank wine, and yet the Son of Man comes eating and drinking
and is accused of being a glutton and a drunkard! Jesus knows that he is looked down upon for
befriending tax collectors and sinners, yet he tells the crowd that the children
of wisdom will vindicate her.
Theophilus, this is hard for me to
hear. I know that Jesus was upset at the
crowd, disappointed in those who would listen and watch but not follow. It’s like those who stand around outside,
hoping to catch a glimpse of the show but refusing to part with any money to go
in. We often guard our hearts too
closely, holding back love and commitment until it is a sure thing, only to
find that the object of our affections has then moved on. I pray that I am not like this, that my life
is not caught up in uncertainty and that I find myself an old man, regretful of
decisions unmade and commitments that passed by. Pray for me, friend, that I may find peace in
my heart with this consuming question of Jesus.
Sincerely,
Luke
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