New Thoughts (10/24/11-10/27/11)
There is a term we use quite commonly in referring to the role of Jesus in our lives, and that is to call Him, ‘Lord’. This is also a commonly seen behavior as we read through the Gospels. There, the word translates kurios. A question may arise, however, as to what exactly is connoted by the use of that title? Strong’s offers a particularly wide range of meaning, stretching from a title for one who is supreme in authority right down to being a respectful title of little more significance than our ‘mister’. I suppose that our mister may well find its roots in master. Indeed, etymological sources indicate that this is exactly the case. And yet, no authority is implied in such usage. I find cause to wonder, then, if our acquired usage of a variant term is rightfully read into the practices of this Middle Eastern culture at the time of the Gospels.
You may be asking why this should come up with regard to this particular study, and he answer is quite simple: The term used to speak of the master over these slaves is that same term, kurios. This term has its root in kuros, meaning supremacy. It seems reasonable to suppose that this implication of supremacy remains in the derived word. Given the various usages we see in Scripture, does that supposition hold? We see it, as here, referring to the master or owner of slaves. He, to be sure, has the supreme authority over those slaves, and as such, the original power of the term certainly applies. It is also common on the lips of the disciples when they speak of their Teacher. This, too, acknowledges the authoritative power of His teaching and His example. It is a term which, thus applied, indicates a certain submission on the part of the one applying.
What should we make of it, then, when the Pharisees or the scribes are using this term when speaking to Jesus? They, too, called Him Lord. Did they intend to suggest a supremacy on His part? Even if it were, perhaps, in a sarcastic way? Or were they merely being polite? I am not sure I have the necessary depth of knowledge to provide a sound answer to these questions. Indeed, I am quite sure I don’t have the necessary knowledge, having no background in the culture of that period or region. However, the implication behind the word suggests certain bounds on how one ought properly to apply it.
Even in our colloquial usage of the term mister, I would note that the word is changed from its root and apparently always has been. This may well have been done to divorce the respectfulness of mister from the submissiveness of master. It’s not the same, certainly, and it would not seem unreasonable that a distinction would be made in the word to enforce clarity on the distinct implications. If I call you mister, I am being polite and respectful. If I call you master, I am implying a right you have over my liberty. If I call you lord, I am indicating myself as duty bound to heed your every command.
This rolls me neatly around to my more proper focus, here. Jesus at one point comments offers this rather scathing assessment of those listening to His message. “Why do you call Me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ and do not do what I say” (Lk 6:46)? That is a question we may well hear resounding in our own ears on a pretty regular basis! We could look as well to the example from the Last Supper. “You call Me Teacher and Lord. Quite right, that I am. Well, then! If I, your Lord and Teacher, wash your feet, surely you should likewise wash one another’s feet. I give you the example that you may do as I do” (Jn 13:13-15). And yet.
This lies at the heart of why Paul would refer to himself as a bondslave of Christ. Christ Jesus is Lord. That being the case what am I but His slave? If He has the authority, I have the submission. If He is supreme, I am not. If He is my Sovereign, then I am duty bound to comply with His command. If He is my Teacher, and I His disciple, then I am committed to live by His example and His message. The whole implication of having confessed that Jesus is my Lord is that I have declared myself His subject. I have set His will above my own, have even cast away my own will. I am His and He may do with me as He sees fit. He commands and I, I must obey.
This is, I hope, the state of my spirit. Yet, like Paul before me I am painfully aware that my fleshly response to His command is wholly insufficient. I am inclined to question, to hedge, to stall for time. This is not as it should be. This is not the life of one whose prayers are conformed to the model my Teacher set me. “Thy will be done as it is in heaven.” That is the disciple’s prayer. How is it done in heaven? It is done without question and without hesitation. It is done fully and completely. It is done immediately and correctly.
Father, it is in my heart to obey you with just that degree of completeness, and yet I know it is also in my heart to go my own way, to raise my will above Yours. I do not say this as something to be proud of, but as evidence of that pride that is yet to submit in me. Yet, this I know: You are indeed at work in me, and You are indeed laboring over my will, shaping it to conform to yours. For this I thank You, and yet I would that the struggle did not persist. Would that there was not this fight in me, this wrestling to retain old ways even when I know full well they must go. Mold me and make me, Holy One, after Thy will. Bring me to that place where, “not my will but Yours” is not the marvelous exception, but rather the even more marvelous norm. Let me be such as call You, “Lord” in earnest and I shall be more blessed than many.
This thought as to just how fully I have truly accepted Jesus to be Lord and Commander of my life leads me into my next point. In Matthew’s verses, we have the introductory question, “Who is the faithful and sensible slave?” In some ways, it seems that the two contrasting images that follow are unusually inept as examples of the teacher’s art. The connection is fine as we move from the idea of a faithful slave to that one who is found indeed acting in faithful fashion. But, if he is a faithful slave, how is it we arrive at the second picture, of a drunken and abusive officer over his fellows? How is this faithful? Indeed, that is quite the point. But, as I say, it seems rather at odds with the introductory question, at least at first or second glance.
What I find ties the picture up more neatly is that closing point about being assigned a place with the hypocrites. Indeed, I think we could take the meaning as that that poor example of responsibility is accounted a hypocrite. In that light, let me return to the opening question: Who is the faithful, sensible slave whom the master put in charge? Think about this in mundane terms. Who would the boss leave in charge in his absence? If you had to leave your house and your possessions under another’s control for a period, who would you choose? What characteristics would they display? Or, as you near old age and must think about giving one of your children power of attorney in your affairs, on what basis do you make the choice?
Of course you are going to choose that one who has displayed a character that is trustworthy, faithful to your own example and wishes. But, here’s the thing: By and large, you know only the facet of that one’s character that they have allowed to be manifest while you are around. Is that the real person, or is it but a mask? They are faithful when you are present. Will they be faithful while you are out? They work hard for you when you’re in the office. Do they continue to work so hard when you are on vacation? Or, do they consider it a vacation for themselves as well? When entrusted with a bit of authority will they exercise it as your representative, or will they let it go to their heads and become petty little tyrants?
It seems to me that this little vignette makes far more sense if we hear that sense of, ‘is it real or is it just appearance?’ in the question of the faithful slave. Who is he really? Is he truly faithful, or is he a hypocrite, an actor?
Were I to lift this parable from its setting, there are nearly endless applications I could find it applied to. It stands, for example, in the tradition of certain of the prophetic messages regarding those who had been given charge of Israel’s spiritual well-being. Who were these shepherds? Did they care for the flocks or for themselves? Were they representing God or personal aggrandizement? Where Luke covers this parable in Luke 12:42-46, it comes in connection with a question Peter has as to whether the preceding message was for all or for ‘us’. Presumably, that ‘us’ is a pretty restrictive ‘us’, whether Peter means to suggest the twelve or maybe that inner three, or even the somewhat larger body of regulars. In that light, one can almost hear Jesus as saying that if you would like to be accounted a servant given charge then follow the proper example.
I am inclined to think that we are all of us set in this position to one degree or another. After its fashion, we each of us face life as a test by which that opening question is resolved. Who then is this faithful, sensible slave? Is he truly faithful? Truly sensible? Or does his whole demeanor change when I am out of sight and out of mind? Let us hear the message from Luke 16:10 in this regard: “He who is faithful in little matters is also faithful in great matters.” The corollary also holds, as that verse continues. “He who is unrighteous in little matters, when it seems of no consequence, will also be unrighteous in big issues.” You know, a landslide does not necessarily start with the large boulders rolling. It may start with mere grains of sand eroding out of place. But those mere grains of sand are what old the larger stones. Remove the tiny backstay and the whole comes crashing down.
It’s like that with our integrity. That is what Jesus is getting at. That’s what lies behind such admonitions as John’s, when he points out that if you can’t manage to love the brother you see each week, you’ll find it utterly impossible to love the God you never see in physical form (1Jn 4:20). In a sense, this life we live on earth is like the practice green on the mini-golf course. It’s the small shots, the place to work on your skills. If you can’t get it right on that practice green, you don’t stand a chance on the real course. This life is something of a workshop for character. Praise be to God that He gives us this period of excessive grace in which to make our mistakes and become more consistent! But, this time comes to an end.
We can’t stay on the practice green forever. Comes a point where we must begin navigating the real course. That, too, is part of this present life. We are honing our skills in real practice. We have been apprenticed to a Master Teacher, and He is ever sharpening the skills necessary for us to truly be His disciples. Yet, we may be bright students or dull. We may be willing or stubborn. We are doubtless both at varied times in our apprenticeship. Here’s the thing, though: On occasion we find ourselves seemingly left to our own devices.
I am mindful of Paul’s comments about that thorn in his flesh (2Co 12:7-10). How he prayed for relief from this affliction, and yet he found God’s answer consistent: “My grace is sufficient.” How often I hear this passage brought forth in support of the health and wealth message, for indeed, they must try and deal with it if they are going to continue to put forth their message. It’s a rather obvious counterpoint. Yet, they stop at verse 9. See? In his weakness, the power of Christ came in! He had the victory! Woohoo! We can all go forth and cease worrying about disease and poverty, and if we still suffer from these things, it must surely be a deficiency in us.
But, look at how Paul completes his thought here. “Therefore I am well content with weaknesses, insults, distresses, persecutions and difficulties for Christ’s sake.” This is not some shout of inevitable victory. This is not some proclamation that all these seriously unpleasant circumstances no longer come his way. Rather, it’s a statement that there is something greater, something more significant. If God has indeed decided that this thorn is best for Paul, so be it! If this which makes me feel so weak is allowing me to more fully demonstrate the power and strength of God, then I could nearly revel in it! If my physical and mental sorrows serve His purpose, then my spirit can yet rejoice. Because He is strong, I can and will stand. When I am weak, then I am strong. If He is my Lord and indeed Lord of All, if He is truly the Sovereign God of all creation and His plans for me truly are for good as His Word has said, then this, though I would not count it good myself, is truly Good and for my good. It is serving His purpose, as all things must, and I, His willing servant, can find no cause to complain in that.
It is at least some evidence of hypocrisy on our part if we are willing to accept His lordship when all is blessings and gladness, but reject His lordship when the road grows steep and difficult. I would not be a fair-weather friend of God, for He is no fair-weather friend to me! He is eternally faithful. He alone is trustworthy, righteous and true. My heart desire, though I know I am yet far from its ideal, is to be faithful to Him, and of a character that pleases Him. My heart desire is to come to such a place as to be truly a candidate for stewardship in His eyes.
I note the simple comment of Paul on the prerequisites of such a position. “it is required of a steward that he be trustworthy” (1Co 4:2). That was particularly true in the period it was written. It is particularly true in the setting of Jesus’ parable. That steward who was left in charge of the house was truly left in charge. He had access to the accounts. He ran the day to day business interests of his master. He acted in nearly every way with the full authority of his master. And his master, let us suppose him to be, for example, a general in Rome’s army, might be gone many long months on campaign. Truly, the moment of his return could not be forecast. Given the right circumstances, he could indeed arrive home with not so much as a moment’s notice. The circumstance of Jesus’ parable, then, is entirely a commonplace for that time; not, perhaps, for all people, but of sufficient for all to be aware of the implications.
In Roman culture, a trustworthy steward over the house would be of tantamount importance. In the culture of heaven, it is equally so. Whatever small portion of His kingdom work God has given us stewardship over, whether it is a little matter or great, as we would measure it, the fundamental requirement is unchanged. Be trustworthy. Bear your authority with an eye to just Whose authority you bear. If you represent, represent faithfully the Lord you call your Master and Commander!
Moving on: there is a constant drumbeat of a message running through this discourse, that of living in such a fashion as recognizes that any moment could be the moment. Over and over, Jesus emphasizes the fact that we cannot and will not have advanced warning of His return. There is great wisdom in that, of course. If we knew the timing, our nature is such that we would put off until the last moment doing anything by way of preparation. If we know He is not coming until the end of 2012, then we may as well enjoy what’s left of 2011, and next summer, for that matter. We can live as we please until late fall, and then we’ll just do one mass repentance and be done with it. But, we cannot do that because we don’t know. We won’t know. He’s not saying, and He’s not saying for the precise reason that we therefore have to keep ourselves exercised in matters of repentance and faithfulness.
It comes back to that same question: Who is the faithful slave? Who is it who continues doing what is right even when there seems no reward in doing so? Who is it who continues doing as the Lord has commanded even when it seems pointless, even when it seems that He is not here to witness it? Who is it who is faithful in the little things of daily living? Listen well! This task is so very far beyond our capacity as to lead to despair, were it not for the very power of God indwelling us! Even then, the idea that we are going to manage 100% compliance 100% of the time ought to strike us as patently absurd.
To be sure, there have been those down through the years who promoted the idea that true and perfect righteousness was within the normative experience of the Christian. Yet, our personal experience uniformly rejects that supposition. So, too, does the consistent testimony of Scripture. Oh, one might find one or two figures in whom no sin is ever mentioned. But, to suppose from that meager sampling that those fortunate few really were sinless is to deny the clear and direct testimony of God, who says unequivocally that there are none who are righteous: not when measured against the full and final standard. But, there are those who are counted as faithful. There are those who are counted as steadfast in their purpose, even though their sins remain more numerous than they would like.
It is that matter of being steadfast in purpose that is in view. It is that matter of being steadfast in purpose that is aided by the knowledge that any moment could be it. I may yet sin. I doubtless shall. But, knowing that any moment may be it, I am quick to run to my Lord in repentance, or I certainly ought to be. I am swift to remind my soul of its desperate need and of its infinite privilege. I need a Savior, and I have Him! More truly, He has me. And it is in that assurance that I can come to Him in those moments of failure, knowing the pain of wanting to do better and finding myself still so weak of flesh. It is in that assurance that I can cry out over the agony of this battle that continues to rage not around me, but within me, and I can know with absolute assurance that as I repent, He forgives. He is still here. He abideth yet. Though it is beyond me to understand how He can abide my presence so near His righteousness, yet He does so. And, slowly, ever so slowly, I find my responses being shaped by His presence.
See, if every moment has the potential of finality, then we must face every moment with a mind firmly on Christ and on His purposes. Impossible, you say? Why, yes it is! It is impossible for the man to maintain this attitude in his own strength of will. But, with God, all things are possible! He is able, and He is here. Ergo, I am made able, though I doubt it so strongly. I can respond to the situations before me with a degree of righteousness that surprises even myself. I can insist on pursuing the course of righteousness even though it is clearly to my own hurt. I can do the right thing, even when there is nobody to witness my steadfastness. I can stop to think, before allowing the flesh its rein. Indeed, I have found this thought invading my conscious these last several weeks: If this is the moment, is this really what I want to be found doing when I am suddenly before my Lord and King? In that flash, in that twinkling of an eye, when I shall have no opportunity to so much as change position, is this really what I would have as my first impression in the courts of heaven?
It’s an amazing perspective! It’s an amazing tool in the arsenal against sinful proclivities. It’s not perfect, for the wily voice of sin is ever attuned to convincing us that this won’t be the moment, so we can proceed. But, to that, we have also the antidote: “I am coming at an hour when you do not think I will” (Mt 24:44). The moment you hear that thought that this clearly won’t be the time, it should heighten your sense that it quite possibly is the time! That very moment I am so convinced isn’t the one becomes the prime candidate for being the one, and that realization turns me back to the question at hand: Is this really how I want to be coming before His throne? Full stop!
These, then, are marvelous tools to aid the struggling conscience with its labor of steadfastness. But, these tools alone will not allow conscience to prevail. Tools require the musculature and the know how by which to use them. To that end, we find the admonition that lies at the end of Luke’s portion in this study: Be alert at all times! How, Lord? You know our flesh is so weak. Yes, but it is upheld by the spirit, and the spirit is strengthened by this: praying. Pray in order to have the overpowering strength necessary to escape that which must come about.
Prayer has a way of focusing our thought life. If it were that alone that defined the power of prayer, it would be boon indeed. But, of course, prayer is far and away more than some meditational tool. It is a connecting of spirit and Spirit. It is the communication line between our soul and our Lord, and that communication is two way. We may not experience that by way of audible command coming to us, or dreams and visions of the sort that leave no doubt but that God has spoken. But, we have His counsel coming to us in prayer all the same. Prayer focuses our thoughts precisely because He inhabits our prayers. Our Advocate, our Counselor, He addresses us in our prayer life, even when we suppose ourselves speaking to Him.
I think of those many psalms that David wrote, psalms that begin with the pouring out of his own wounded soul, with all its less than pure desire for vengeance and retribution. Yet, they change course. They arrive at an expression of real righteousness, of God’s thoughts and perspective on the issues. This is what prayer does, when we are honest in prayer. If we will get ourselves out of this habit of posturing in our prayers, of couching our communications with God in those forms we suppose look and sound right, then He can really address the issues we are expressing. If we are busily praying in a conscious effort to sound righteous, though, even though it be only on our inner channel, we fail utterly. The more we try and dress up our thought life for God, the less we can really communicate with Him.
It is the honest prayer, the prayer that is unafraid to expose our hurt that God might dress the wounds, that avails so very much. It is the honest prayer that allows more room for His communication, as the Spirit indwelling takes up our prayers, cleanses them, and relays the result back to our own thoughts, that we might truly be renewed in mind; that’s what empowers us to avoid the entrapments of the world. That’s what gives us the overpowering strength, strength to stand when all around us seems blown by hurricane force winds; strength to insist on doing the right thing even when everybody we know is happily pursuing the wrong.
Let me just note briefly the character of prayer that God loves. I take this from Paul’s instruction to the Colossians. “Devote yourselves to prayer. Be alert in your prayers, and pray with thanksgiving” (Col 4:2). Notice the two characteristics Paul stresses. First, be alert. There is no place in earnest prayer for mindlessness. This ought to be a counterbalance to the Charismatic understanding regarding praying in tongues. Are you alert when your thoughts are running in syllables you don’t control, much less understand? If you can answer yes to that, then by all means, proceed. But, if you have more or less shut down in that moment, then you are ignoring this first directive to be alert in prayer, engaged. And let me just say, that engaged prayer is not just focused on the message we seek to deliver, but on the message He is delivering.
The second aspect of the prayer life Paul advocates is thanksgiving. How often this is lacking! How often our prayers descend into little more than a list of demands. Looking at current events, we have this whole foolishness of the Occupy Wall Street movement happening. And, look at the nature of this group. It’s all demands and no thanks. Ooh, ooh! I pursued a worthless degree at high cost, and now I have it, but it doesn’t get me anywhere. Well, where’s the thanks for being allowed that pursuit? Where’s the thankfulness for having grown up (to the degree that you’ve grown up at all) in a society that makes room for such pursuits? Where’s the thankfulness for the full bellies and warm houses you have experienced in spite of your present claims of hardship?
Yet, if we would be hard on them for their cluelessness, we must be equally hard on ourselves for our typical behavior before the God of all creation! Honestly, how much prayer time do we give over to simply thanking Him for the inestimable blessings He has bestowed on us? How often do I thank Him for the simple fact of my continued existence? That in itself is a marvel beyond measure. Who am I to think I deserved it? Who am I to suppose His thoughts ought to be thus upon me? But, no. If my experience is normative, and I’ve no particular reason to suppose it isn’t, then the lion’s share of our prayer life consists in presenting demands to God. Oh, we may choose our wording so as to conceal the demanding nature of our plaints, but really, who are we kidding? If our prayers are a forever list of do this for me, do that for me, fix this, bless me with that, take this away, what else is it? Where’s the thankfulness?
I really need to continue in this thought, and to put it into practice in my own life. As a starting point, I ought surely to enter into just such a time of prayer before I draw this particular study to a close. I have to say that given the difficulties that have been present in this week, thanksgiving is not the first thing that comes to mind as a cause to pray. Yet, there it is: Pray with thanksgiving and alertness. And, if I combine this with what is said here, I find that this prayer of thanksgiving is a first order antidote for the very sort of issues that lead me to think thanksgiving an odd sort of prayer. Why, after all, is Jesus instructing us to be always praying? It is in order that we might avoid the entrapments of this world, and overcome those things which must come.
In this instance I am more focused on those entrapments, matters He listed out in Luke 21:34. Drunkenness and dissipation may be easy enough to avoid and leave behind. Maybe. Or it may be that left to my own devices I would quickly be drawn back to such activities by the sorts of events that fill my life these days. It is that last category: The worries of life. That’s the kicker. That’s the one that is so very likely to turn a joyful Christian into a dour survivor. Yet, dour survival is not in the calling. Joyful perseverance is the description we are to take upon ourselves.
Now, think about this. How do we combat the rather natural tendency to be caught up in the worries of life, and thereby brought nearer to despond? By praying with thanksgiving! It’s the perfect counteraction. Whatever is true, honorable, right and pure; whatever is lovely, of good repute; anything of excellence, anything worthy of praise: Let your mind dwell upon these things (Php 4:8). If we are dwelling on such things, thanksgiving rises. If we are dwelling on such things and thanksgiving is rising up, then the issues and challenges of life grow dimmer in our sight. They don’t loom so large. We are reminded that the Lord our God is with us yet. We are reminded of His faithfulness thus far, and His unchanging nature gives us cause for assurance that He will be faithful to the end.
Lord, it would be inappropriate indeed not to come to You now, this instant, with joyful praise and thanksgiving for all that You have done for me, for my wife. Even were there not so much need for that counterbalancing effect, it would be right. So, yes: I do thank You. I thank You for those times You so clearly preserved me from my own stupidity. I thank You for those many other times I have not even been aware of, and yet You acted. I thank You for the twenty years I have enjoyed this marriage, and the marvel and wonder of seeing love grown deeper and stronger now than it was at the first. I thank You for all that You have caused to change in me. I thank You for leading me to this new church body, a body in which it seems I am thriving more fully than I have in many years. I thank You for making me useful in Your kingdom. In all of this, Lord, I have not even touched upon the greatest, most obvious cause for thanks, that You came and took upon Yourself all the worst scorn and abuse of mankind, even dying the most excruciating and ignominious of deaths, for no other purpose than to save the likes of me! It is too marvelous. I cannot ever in all eternity hope to repay You for this great gift. Yet, I would that I could. I would that I could more swiftly arrive at the place of walking in a manner worthy of what You have done. But, I can take this first step: Thank You. Let the song of salvation be the shout of my soul, the melody upon my lips, the endless paean to Your perfection! For You deserve all my thanks and more. You have loved me, and I am Yours. And I have come to love You the more, the more I have come to know You. Glory be to Your name always, my God, my King, my Beloved. All glory be to You.
Somehow, in some fashion, I must needs etch this understanding upon consciousness. This is one of those things like the image of Aaron’s seal, “Holy Unto the Lord”. It is a thing to have ever in mind, constantly recurring, and particularly so in the sorrowful moments of trial. In the midst, give thanks. In the midst, look not at the trial but at the Solution! In the midst rise up and remember, my soul, all thy benefits at His hand. Then, rejoice in perseverance and persevere in rejoicing.
Holy Spirit remind me in those times when I need the reminder (which is ever and always). Let this become an innate part of my character, that I am thankful regardless, and therefore joyful regardless. This is so wholly at odds with my usual that it would be testimony all by itself. Well, let that testimony become my testimony that You might be glorified! Amen and amen.
