Dear Theophilus,
You say that Jesus brings harsh
words to the people out of love. This
reminds me of so many things my father used to say while disciplining me. He would constantly tell me that he loved me
while offering discipline that, seen from the outside, would look cruel. As a child I hated the punishment and found
his words to be contradictory. As an
adult, I understand it all. Perhaps this
is the same with Jesus—words that seem cruel are truly loving, meant to
encourage a crowd in a certain direction.
Or maybe they are just cruel, harsh words, spoken out of frustration to
a crowd that will not follow him. I
don’t know, Theophilus, but I will admit to wearying of these frustrating
passages in which I cannot follow the trail that Jesus leaves for me. I get lost in his words of warning and
prediction for actions that may or may not come. I do not believe I can live each and every
day with pregnant anticipation for cataclysmic and decisive events that may or
may not come. It has been years since
Jesus walked on this earth, and in those times, what evidence is there to show
that his return is imminent? Many have
predicted the actual day, and all have been proved wrong. What if that’s because he isn’t
returning? I cannot help but harbor
these thoughts as this plays out.
Today, I have received word of more
teachings of Jesus, and they are not any clearer to me than many others. I feel as though I wander a dark corridor,
momentarily stepping into areas of light, but mostly just wandering through
darkness, the awareness of walls serving as boundaries but little knowledge of
what is ahead. Jesus talks about death
and the fate that awaits those who do not follow him, but I will admit to
sometimes hearing these words as threats or fear tactics. It’s hard for this man to grasp all of this,
friend, and my frustration sometimes boils over. If Jesus was who he says he was, why not just
come out and show us?
I have learned that there were some
individuals asking Jesus about the time when Pilate mixed some of the Galileans
blood in with their sacrifices. Jesus,
however, didn’t pander to their question—he instead asked them if the suffering
of these particular Galileans indicated that their sins were worse than anyone
else. He then tells them that only
repentance will save them from a similar fate!
He uses another instance, the tower of Siloam collapsing and killing 18
people, to teach the same lesson—that they were not worse sinners, and their
fate will be the fate of all who choose not to repent.
Maybe I just don’t like being
called a sinner, or perhaps I feel like I am not as bad as others, but I don’t
like being lumped in with everyone by such blanket statements. It’s hard for me to believe that my life is
so bad that I’ll be banished forever simply because I am not perfect or am
skeptical about the claims of Jesus. Am
I not a good person, Theophilus?
Jesus seems to be issuing
ultimatums left and right in these teachings.
He tells of a fig tree that produced no figs for a man for three
years. The man told the gardener to cut
it down so that it would no longer waste the space in the garden, but the
gardener convinces the man to give it one more year, one more chance, to
produce some figs. The gardener then
fertilizes the fig tree, and we are left to wonder if it bore fruit in its
final chance.
I see what Jesus is trying to do
here. I am supposed to be the fig tree,
given one more chance to do the right thing.
Maybe I’m not a fig tree, Theophilus!
Or maybe the season is not right.
Or maybe I just don’t respond kindly to threats. I don’t know, friend, but I’m frustrated with
this language. Perhaps I am just
tired. Please don’t give up on me yet,
but I trust that you can see and understand the reasons for my frustration.
Sincerely,
Luke
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