Author: Jim Cantelon

Key Verse: John 1:18 (NIV) “No one has ever seen God, but God the One and Only, who is at the Father’s side, has made Him known.”

I was riding the commuter train the other day and overheard a conversation between two college students sitting behind me. They were dismissing Christianity as untrustworthy because, “Noah’s ark was a fable. And the Bible was written by a bunch of guys we don’t know. How do we know if their writings weren’t the result of some drug-induced hallucination?” They were quite cordial about all this. Their conversation finally eroded to a discussion of the humour of Bill Cosby. As I left the train at my stop, I watched them disappear into the horizon, painlessly unbelieving, arranging for a “burger and a movie” the next Saturday night.

They think doubt about authors and ark is a problem? They should try this on for size: “only God sees God as He sits beside Himself”. That’s what I’ve written in the margin of my Bible beside John 1:18. Somebody on drugs here? Sometimes you’d think so. So much of the Bible (especially what it says about Christ’s divinity) is so far beyond reason that one can at least empathize with those who reduce it all to hallucinatory imaginings: unless it’s true.

Unless it’s true. If it’s true, then we have the authoritative Word of God on the subjects of God Himself, Jesus, the kingdom of Heaven, creation, and the end of days. If Jesus was God, then we have confidence in some of the difficult passages in the Old Testament, because Jesus so often quoted and expressed the highest view of those Jewish Scripture. In fact, He saw Himself as the fulfillment of “Moses and the Prophets”. If Jesus was trustworthy then the Scriptures become trustworthy–and even if we may have no “experience” or facility with some of the “unreasonable” aspects of Scripture, we nevertheless rest confident that Jesus knew and understood all of “Holy Writ”.

One day, in heaven, we’ll all go to school and get the full scoop on the knotty problems of the Bible, but I must stress again that our trust of the Bible is predicated on our trust in Jesus. The word is predicated on the Word. And because that Word became flesh and gave us the “word”, we believe and hope. In fact, I might go so far as to say my religion is predicated on relationship. Relationship with Jesus.

Key Verse: Luke 24:27 “And beginning at Moses and all the Prophets, He expounded to them in all the Scriptures the things concerning Himself.”

The crucifixion was a real blow to Jesus’ disciples. Not just the inner group of twelve, but all of Jesus’ followers were devastated by the news of His death. It was a grim moment.

On Resurrection Day, two of Jesus’ followers left Jerusalem to walk to Emmaus. They had heard the rumours of the empty tomb but were confused, rather than convinced. Depressed and disappointed, they were glumly walking along, discussing the events of the previous few days, when they were joined by a third man. He asked what they had been talking about. One of them, named Cleopas, responded rather curtly, “Are you the only one living in Jerusalem who doesn’t know the things that have happened there in these days?”

Jesus feigned ignorance, “What things?”, He asked. They went on to tell Him what He so intimately knew. After they had finished, He went on to explain that the Christ (“Messiah”) had to undergo all these things in order to fulfil the writings of Moses and the Prophets, then He acted as if He was going farther than Emmaus. The disciples implored Him to stay the night. Over dinner it suddenly became clear. As He broke the bread and gave it to them, “their eyes were opened”. But even as they gasped a greeting, He disappeared from their sight.

What a surprise! Especially to these thoroughly disappointed disciples. They had “hoped that He was the one who was going to redeem Israel” (NIV), and He had died, just like any other zealot. Three year of hope and self-sacrifice had been dashed, and then this! An empty tomb, a flesh-and-blood appearance and disappearance! What was going on?

Here’s what. Jesus was going to redeem Israel, not merely from Roman oppression, but from Satanic oppression. He was going to save His people from their sins. The eternal kingdom was at the door!

Key Verse: Luke 23: 12 “That very day Pilate and Herod became friends…”

In this chapter and the latter half of the previous chapter, we read of the crucifixion. Some have called this the “Passion” narrative. In 22:47-53 we see Jesus arrested (even while His disciples were eager to use those newly purchased swords–“Lord, should we strike with our swords?” v.49b). Then, in vss. 54-62, we read of Peter’s denial that he was a follower of Jesus. After this, Jesus is taken before Pilate and Herod, and then led to Golgotha. He dies and is buried. The story is over; or so His enemies thought.

What happened next must wait for Luke’s concluding chapter. But there is something in this chapter which is very rarely commented on. It’s a reference to two old enemies becoming friends.

We don’t really have any information on why Herod and Pilate were enemies. Maybe it was due to a clash of authority. Both men were accountable to Rome, but Herod, as Tetrarch, had a bit more autonomy than Pilate, as the Governor. Perhaps Herod resented that his autonomy could be challenged or ignored by Pilate from time to time: he could “go over Herod’s head” at will. And Pilate might have shared a common disgust for the paranoid Herod and flaunted it. But this is speculation.

For whatever reason, they were enemies, and Jesus made them friends. Isn’t that ironic? Their new view of one another sprang, not from being new men, but from trying to deal with “that Man”. They were both fascinated with and flummoxed by Jesus. Herod grew tired of his game with Jesus and had him ridiculed and mocked. Pilate had Him crucified. Neither knew exactly why. “And it wasn’t all bad–after all, it pleased the people and we’ve become friends!”

Jesus became a friend too: with sinners.

Key Verse: Luke 22:29 “I bestow upon you a kingdom, just as My Father bestowed one upon Me.”

Here’s a passage of scripture that has been remarkably silent over the years. At least in sermons, that is. We have probably heard a few sermons on Jesus sending out the disciples without “purse, bag or sandals”–the point of our dependency on God was well made in all of them. In fact, the party line has been that if God calls you and sends you out, you can rely totally on Him and have no need of money, extra clothing, or a second pair of Adidas. And the stock response from the faithful, as this principle is preached, is, “Amen!”

But wait a minute! After the disciples affirm that they had no need the first time they were out there ministering without material resources, Jesus now tells them the rules have changed. “But now” He says, “if you have a purse, take it, and also a bag; and if you don’t have a sword, sell your cloak and buy one.” (v.36 NIV). Jesus is telling His disciples to buy a sword, and to sell their overcoat to get one? You mean defending yourself against an attack is more important in Jesus’ eyes than defending yourself against the elements, and you need money and a suitcase as well? Where did you say that reference was again?

What’s going on here? The real world, that’s what. Jesus had already taught His disciples the lesson of complete submission to His will and total dependence upon His provision. Now, He was stressing the complementary role we can play in our ministries by good planning and responsible management. Wha’t more, He was showing us that, as far as our physical safety is concerned, there are some “executive responsibilities” we have in assisting our Heavenly Father and His ministering angels in this business of staying alive. Jesus wants us to be childlike–not childish.

Key Verse: Luke 21:4 “all these people gave their gifts out of their wealth; but she out of her poverty…”

The question occurring to me as I read this story is, “what would Jesus think or say about some modern ministries that unscrupulously bilk widows of their life savings?” We have no record of what Jesus said or did about this poor widow who put all she had to live on in the temple treasury. All we read is that Jesus saw her do it and was impressed.

What do you suppose motivated her? It was probably the first time she had done this; and probably the last. How often can you give all you have to live on before the well is completely dry, and you die? Maybe she had a great need and felt that her eager gift was a part of expressing her deepest sincerity in petitioning God for help. Maybe she felt especially guilty about some secret sin. Or perhaps she was in such desperate straits that giving all she had was an act of frustration, anger, and acquiescence–a kind of financial suicide. Maybe she thought this might force God to intervene. Then again, may be she gave out of total gratitude for some special answer to prayer. Who knows? But the point Jesus made was that she gave out of her poverty: her gift was costly.

Contrast this to the carefully measured gifts of the wealthy. Many of them, no doubt, were meticulous in their commitment to tithing–every month the first donation was a tithe to the temple. They perhaps even preached the importance of giving first to God before any other bill was paid, and I doubt the Lord would fault them for this. In fact, Jesus said nothing overtly negative about their donations. What He did say, however, related to the relative value of the gifts–not as men saw it, but as God saw it.

The gift of the wealthy was simply that –a gift. The gift of the widow was something else–it was a sacrifice–and sacrificial giving then, as now, was pretty much out of style.

Key Verse: Luke 19:44 “…you did not know the time of your visitation.”

If you have read even a bit of the Bible, you’re sure to have noticed the awfully serious view it takes of decision-making: especially those decisions about our relationship with God. When we’re vague, or try to postpone, if not water down, the demand of the relationship, He is clear-cut and downright inflexible. We want qualifiers, maybe’s, and wait-and-see’s. He wants either/or. He will work for a while at winning us, but warns that His Spirit will not always wrestle with us. If we put the decision off He’ll eventually stop trying to convince us, and the results, He warns, will be disastrous.

A case in point is Jesus weeping over Jerusalem. The city personifies the nation of Israel, Jesus’ own and God the Father’s chosen people. Not that, even in the context of a heart-rending compassion, Jesus is gratingly blunt in His pronouncement of doom: “The days will come upon you when your enemies will build and embankment against you and encircle you and hem you in on every side. They will dash you to the ground, you and the children within your walls. They will not leave one stone ono another…” (vss. 43,44). This is pretty hard stuff; it almost seems that Jesus is foreseeing genocide here.

What makes it even more difficult is the seemingly schizophrenic nature of God in this passage. On the one hand, He loves His people with an everlasting love, on the other He pronounces judgment and appears to be prepared to sit back and let it happen. And this is all because His chosen ones “did not recognize the time of God’s coming” to them.

The lesson? God is love and God is just, and won’t extend His love forever, any more than He will postpone His judgment forever. It’s scary, but true — when God speaks, we’d better listen.

Key Verse: Luke 18:13 “…God be merciful to me a sinner!”

The Bible doesn’t always make an editorial comment about Jesus’ parables, but Luke does so in this instance. The famous parable of the Pharisee and the tax collector is told to “some who were confident of their own righteousness and looked down on everybody else” (18:9 NIV). Of course, the temptation to us as we read, is to look down on the Pharisee. Human nature, as irrepressible as it is, will always manage to condescend somehow.

This parable is a classic. On one side you have a self-satisfied religious type. On the other side is a self-disgusted con artist. One enters confidently, arrogantly, even into the temple–it is familiar and much loved territory. The other entire fearfully, regretfully, and awkwardly–the temple is foreign territory. The one saunters, the other grovels. And to the surprise of the listener, Jesus says God responds to the man with the dirty face, and rejects Mr. Clean. This doesn’t seem fair, does it?

To appreciate the shock value of this parable, think of it in these terms: the Pharisee is you and the tax collector is a convicted rapist. You’ve never knowingly hurt anybody in your life. You’ve attended church faithfully, paid your tithes, and helped the poor. You are always ready to testify to your faith and intend to obey God and serve Him all your life. And, in all honesty, as you see it, God owes you something, for you’ve kept your part of the bargain.

On the other hand, the rapist has been nothing but trouble all his life. He was kicked around at home, so he lashed out at school. Abused by society, he paid it back with ever-increasingly abusive behavior. Finally, he went on a rampage, beating, stealing and raping. Now, as he enters the prison chapel, he throws himself on the floor in anguish, while you, on your monthly prison visitation, take a moment for prayer before the chapel service.

And guess what? God ignores you and honours him! He disregards. your self-satisfied conversation and embraces his self-condemnation. What gives?

Simply this. That man recognizes his spiritual poverty and you don’t. He cries for mercy, even as you casually converse. His feet are slipping into the pit; yours are merely slippered. He is in anguish; you are content.

Never forget Jesus’ words in the Sermon on the Mount, “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven” (Mt. 5:3). Regardless of how wholeheartedly we’ve embraced Christ, it is only because He’s embraced us first that we have any right to stand in His presence. And when He first embraced us, we were detestably filthy; as filthy as a rapist.

Key Verse: Luke 16:31 “If they do not hear Moses and the prophets, neither will they be persuaded though one rise from the dead.”

It’s amazing but true: there still are “Christians” who have a distinct prejudice against (if not and out-and-out hatred for) Jews. Three or four time s a year, I receive mail from these anti- Semites. Usually their letters are more like tomes–overstuffed manila envelopes with articles, essays, facts and figures, all designed and tailored to make me believe there is a Jewish conspiracy to take over the world. It is hateful and disgusting. What’s more, it’s sinful.

Jesus was a Jew, and I love Him; I also love His people. That’s one reason why my family and I gave seven years of our lives to living and working in Israel. I also have the highest respect for the disciples and the apostle Paul (all Jews) — so much so, that I follow their teaching g and base my life on their interpretation of the words of Jesus. On top of that (or should I say, “foundation to that”), is my high view of Moses and the prophets. The “Old” Testament, as we call it, is the very root system of my Christian faith. Take the Old Testament away from me and you’ve uprooted me–focus only on the New Testament and you may appear alive for awhile, just like your Christmas tree appears to believing for a week or so in your house at Christmastime, but eventually my branches will turn brown.

In Luke 16, Jesus tells the story of the rich man and Lazarus. He quotes Abraham as saying that if “Moses and the prophets” can’t convince a person of the reality of Heaven and Hell, then the resurrection won’t do it either. Jesus’ live and ministry was a fulfillment of the Old Testament. You can try to take Jesus out of the Old Testament–but you cannot take the Old Testament out of Jesus. Like love and marriage, they are inseparable. But don’t call it a “mixed” marriage. Sure, the Old Testament is Jewish , but so is the New!

Key Verse: Luke 14:33 “…whoever of you does not forsake all he has cannot be Me disciple.”

I don’t like those words in the key verse. Nor do I like these words: “If anyone comes to Me and does not hate his father and mother, his wife and children, his brothers and sisters — yes, even his own life — he cannot be My disciple. And anyone who does not carry his cross and follow Me cannot be My disciple” (vs. 26,27 NIV). I dislike them, not just because they offend my values, but also because they seem out of character with Jesus, if taken at face value.

I say “out of character” for a number of reasons. First of all, Jesus had a high view of scripture, which included a high view of the ten commandments — one of which says, “Honour your father and mother…” Secondly, He had a high view of children — “suffer the little children to come unto Me…” Jesus respected the word of His Father which commands us to “train up a child in the way he should go…” — so how do you do this if you have deserted the child?

Obviously, Jesus was doing there what He often did as was the custom of a good semitic teacher: He used exaggeration for the sake of emphasis. He shocked people into seeing the point. The point here was simply that Jesus expects His disciples to put God and His kingdom first (“seek first the kingdom of heaven, and its righteousness…”), and personal concerns second (“…and all these things will be added unto you” –Matt.6:33).

He’s a lover of our souls, but He’s a jealous lover. Don’t cross Him.