Thursday, April 11, 2013

Luke 18:9-17


Dear Theophilus,
There are so many times when I wonder if I could ever be good enough.  Jesus issues such difficult challenges that I don’t believe I could ever come close to being a good follower.  You, a dedicated Christian, admit that you struggle to obey his commands!  How could I even come close?  I am so far behind you that I can barely see you on the horizon, and you’re indicating that it’s even farther still to a place of faithful discipleship!  I do not have the years left in this body to ever reach what seems to be an acceptable level of faith.  I can scarcely understand what Jesus is saying much of the time, and to change everything in my life to match this jumble of teachings seems to be an obstacle I am unable to overcome.  I have such a struggle even discovering the truth of Jesus’ real identity—deciding how it affects my everyday life seems to be another mountain to climb, and I doubt I have the energy to do so.  I have kicked over quite an anthill, Theophilus, and I don’t seem capable of corralling the ants that are now running wild in my life!
I have an account of yet another confrontational story of Jesus.  I know some people who would be tempted to accost Jesus if he spoke so directly to them, but it seems like Jesus knows exactly how far he can push some people.  I think I would be insulted if he spoke this way to me, highlighting my faults, but perhaps I would be willing to learn. 
Anyway, these men were described to me as individuals with the highest possible opinion of themselves.  They were certain of their standing before God and wanted all others in the community to know, too.  They looked down on others, certain that such regular people could never achieve the lofty status to which their own lives had carried them.  They were arrogant, like the judge you described in your letter.
Jesus describes how one of these arrogant men, a Pharisee, would stand by himself in the temple.  He didn’t want to be associated with anyone else and wanted to ensure that he was noticed, and he would pray by thanking God that he was better than other people, such as thieves and bandits, adulterers and tax collectors.  He would then go on to list his merits, such as his fasting and his tithing, so that everyone could hear.
A nearby tax collector could not escape overhearing the Pharisee’s words, and surely he heard himself included on the list of the man’s sinners.  It made no difference to the tax collector, though, because he was there with a heavy heart, unable to summon the courage to even look up to heaven, thrashing himself and praying that God might have mercy on him.  Rather than list all those who might be worse than him, the tax collector admitted his role as a sinner to God, pleading for mercy. 
I suspect that Jesus’ audience clearly associated with the Pharisee, rather than the tax collector.  This type of man would probably rather die than ever be associated in the same class as a tax collector.  So it was probably with shock and horror that they heard Jesus say that it was the tax collector who went home and was right with God rather than the Pharisee.  Before their dissent could even register, Jesus told them that the proud, those who choose to exalt their own deeds and qualifications, will find humility the hard way, while those who choose the path of humility will find laud and exultation. 
There is no reaction from the men who were listening to Jesus.  I am certain the black cloud brewing in their hearts made its way to their faces, but their words are not recorded, although I’m sure they had plenty to say.  He is confounding those who would seem to know the most about religion while exalting those who don’t pretend to be certain about the way God works.  I do take some comfort in this—while Jesus’ standards seem so lofty as to be impossible, Jesus does continue to lift up those who are clearly not experts on faithful living.  Perhaps there is hope for this confused soul after all.
Jesus goes on to challenge all my assumptions after this incident with the proud men.  In this case, the disciples were busy shooing away the parents who brought their infants to be touched by Jesus.  I’m sure the disciples saw it as a silly distraction, business not important enough for Jesus to deal with, but I’d guess the parents thought very highly of it.  After all, if the man could cure the sick and the lame with a touch, wouldn’t that same touch offer some measure of protection or blessing to an infant?
Rather than affirming to his disciples that he was too important for such a thing, he not only corrects them but also offers up a lesson to them, one that must have kept them guessing as to its exact meaning for some time.  He ordered them to stop obstructing the children and to allow them to draw near to Jesus, not just because he liked children, but because God’s kingdom belongs to ones like them.  He then tells them that one cannot enter God’s kingdom unless one receives it like a child.
Theophilus, I look at children and wonder what this means.  I see their innocence and their wonder at the world, which is so much larger than them, and yet I also know that they have so much still to learn.  There is much they don’t understand, and they are not very productive most of the time.  I sometimes envy the freedom with which children laugh and play, and yet I don’t know what it means to welcome God’s kingdom like a child.
Sincerely,
Luke

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