(the true story of the last eyewitness,
a summary)
My name is John. My father’s name was Zebedee. We
made our living by fishing on the Sea of Galilee. I am the last eyewitness to
the life of Jesus. All the rest are gone; some long gone. Many died years ago,
tragically young, the victims of Roman cruelty and persecution. For some
reason. Jesus chose me to live to be an old man. In fact, some in my community
have taken to calling me “the elder.”
I am the inspiration behind the Fourth Gospel.
These are my stories, recorded, told to you by my disciples. I’m proud of what
they have done. Me? I’ve never done much writing. But the story is truly mine.
You see my hands. They’ve been hurting for the past
20 years now. I couldn’t hold a pen even if I wanted to. Not that I was ever
good at writing. I was a fisherman, so my hands were calloused. I could tie
ropes, mend nets, and pull the oars, but never make a decent x1 (Greek letter).
So we used secretaries when we wanted to write. There was always a bright young
man around it seems, ready to take a letter or help us put pen to papyrus.
My eyes are too weak to read anymore. I can’t
remember the last time I could see well enough to read a letter or even see the
inscriptions. So one of the brothers (I call them my “little children”) reads
to me. They are all very gracious to me in my old age, compiling my stories,
bringing me food, laughing at my jokes, and caring for my most intimate needs.
Time is taking its toll on me though. I rarely have the energy to tell the old
stories and preach entire sermons. Instead, I simply remind them of the
Liberating King’s most vital command, saying as loudly as I can, “Little
children, love one another.”
Jesus had this group of guys. He called us “the
twelve.” We traveled with Him, spent time with Him, ate with Him, and listened
to Him talk about God’s kingdom. We watched Him perform miracles. These weren’t
the tricks like you see in the market or attempts at magic you hear about at shrines.
These were what I call “signs.” Something was breaking into our darkness. These
signs pointed to a greater reality most people didn’t even know was there. In
the other Gospels, they call them “miracles” or “works of power.” We’ve decided
to tell you about select signs because these, more than any, revealed the true
glory of this man.
Jesus wanted us to be His family, a different kind
of community. We figured it out later. By calling us “the twelve,” Jesus was
remembering the original twelve tribes of Israel while creating a new people of
God. God was doing something new, like the prophets had promised. We were living
at the center of history. From now on, everything would be different. This made
us feel special, proud, and sometimes arrogant. We’d sometimes jockey for
Jesus’ attention. He had this “inner circle” of sorts. I was part of it. Peter,
Andrew, James, and I were with Jesus at times when the other fellows had to
stay behind. I’m not sure why He picked me. Because of that, I knew He loved me
and I would have a special place with Him.
Jesus also had other students. Not all of them
stayed. Some came, and some went. I don’t really know how many people in all.
One time He sent out 70 of us to proclaim the good news and heal in His name.
He even let women be His students. Most people don’t know this, but women were
among those who helped support us financially. At a time when people said it
was a shame for a man to be supported by women, Jesus took their help and took
it gladly. But there were no women among the twelve. That was only right. In
our day, women didn’t travel with men who were not family. Scandal was always
swirling around Jesus; He didn’t want or need to fight that battle.
I’ve outlived all the rest of the twelve and His
other followers. I can’t tell you how lonely it is to be the last person with a
memory, some would even say a fuzzy memory, of what Jesus looked like, the
sound of His voice, the manner of His walk, the penetrating look in His eyes.
All I can do is tell my story.
Others have written accounts of what happened among
us. The other Gospels have faithfully portrayed the public Jesus. But I feel
compelled to tell the story of the private Jesus. The others show us how Jesus
preached and dealt with the multitudes. But I still remember the small group
time with Jesus and the conversation He had with Nicodemus, the Samaritan
woman, and the man born blind – I don’t remember his name.
The other
Gospels tell the tragedy and injustice of Jesus’ death. Here was the single
greatest man in history who was falsely accused; who was dragged before corrupt
priests and a cruel Roman governor. He was condemned to death and crucified in
a most hideous manner. On a human level, Jesus’ arrest, condemnation, and
crucifixion were tragedies of epic proportions. But the more this old man
thinks about what happened, the more I understand now that Jesus’ death was His
greatest hour. Things seemed to spin out of control so quickly. One minute we
were celebrating the Passover together in the upper room; the next we were
running for our lives! I’m not sure who was to blame for what happened to
Jesus. Envious priests? The Roman governor? But in fact, He was in complete
control. That’s why I say the hour of His death was the hour of His greatest
glory. That’ why I think that when Jesus was lifted up on the cross, He became
the means by which all people can come to God. The most vivid memory that
lingers in this old man’s mind is of Jesus up there on the cross. I can still
see it like it was yesterday. His body – hanging halfway between heaven and
earth, embracing the world – bridged the gap between God and humanity.
Now I want to be very clear. This is my story, but
unlike what you hear from most storytellers, this is completely true. I am
giving you the testimony of an eyewitness. And like my brother disciples, I
will swear upon my life that it is true.
Before
Jesus came along, many thought John the Immerser might be the Liberating King.
But when Jesus appeared in the wilderness, John pointed us to Him. The Immerser
knew his place in God’s redemptive plan. John the Immerser was a man sent from
God, but Jesus is the Voice of God. John rejected any messianic claim outright.
Jesus, though, accepted it with a smile, but only from a few of us – at least
at first. Don’t get me wrong, John was important, but he wasn’t the Liberating
King. He preached repentance. He told everybody to get ready for One greater to
come along. The One who comes will immerse us in fire and power, he said. John
even told some of his followers to leave him and go follow Jesus.
The
mystery of Jesus’ identity occupied us and will occupy generations of believers
for centuries to come. As we journeyed with Him, it gradually became clearer
who this man was, where He came from, and how His existence would profoundly
affect the rest of human history. The question of “Who is this man?” was not answered
overnight.
At
this time our Roman occupiers had given a small group of Pharisees limited
powers to rule, and Nicodemus was one of those Pharisees. He held a seat on the
ruling council known as the Sahnedrin, and surprisingly Nicodemus was among those
who sought out Jesus for His teaching. It appeared that he believed more about
Jesus than he wanted others to know. So he came at night.
Jesus
made the point clear: stay connected to Him, and you will have no reason to
fear. Jesus doesn’t mean that the instant you have faith, fear simply vanishes
or only good things happen in your life. In fact, the blessings that come with
eternal life often have nothing to do with present or future circumstances; but
they have everything to do with our connections to God and one another. That is
my message to all of you. God came to earth wrapped in flesh, and then He
reached His greatest acclaim through a torturous death. If this is all true,
then we will find strength and beauty in places we never imagined. Abiding in
Jesus the Liberator is the good life, regardless of the external circumstances.
For
us, Samaria was a place to be avoided. Before Solomon’s death 1, 000 years
earlier, the regions of Samaria and Judea were part of united Israel. After the
rebellion that divided the kingdom, Samaria became a hotbed of idol worship.
The northern kings made alliances the corrupted the people by introducing
foreign customs and strange gods. They even had the nerve to build a temple to
the true God on Mt. Gerizim to rival the one in Jerusalem. By the time we were
travelling with Jesus, it was evident that the Samaritans had lost their way.
By marrying outsiders, they had polluted the land. We considered them to be
half-breeds – mongrels – and we knew we had to watch out for them or else we
might be bitten.
Jesus
is often called “Christ.” But “Christ” is not a name; it is the Greek
translation of the Hebrew title “Messiah,” which means in English “Liberating
King.” To call Jesus “the Christ” is to confess “Jesus is the Liberating King”
or “the Anointed.” The term “Liberating King” refers to a human being, God’s
end-time agent destined to bring universal peace and justice to our world.
Jesus did just that when He spoke with the Samaritan woman. As the Liberating
King, He could speak with her regardless of her heritage, lifestyle, or gender
and offer her freedom from sin and peace.
Jesus
took our little group of disciples into one of the most miserable places I have
ever seen. It was a series of pools where the crippled and diseased would
gather hoping to be healed. The stench was unbearable, and no sane person would
willingly march into an area littered with such wretched and diseased bodies.
We knew what could happen, what they had could have easily rubbed off on us.
That kind of impurity was frightening, but we followed Him as He approached a
crippled man on his mat.
You
can’t even begin to imagine this man’s excitement. His entire life had been
defined by his illness. Now he was free from it. Free from the pain and
weakness. Free from the depression that gripped his soul. Free to from the
shame he had always known. Now he did not just walk – he ran and celebrated
with friends and family. Everyone was rejoicing with him, except for some of
the Jewish leaders. Instead, they drilled him with questions as if they could
disregard this miracle.
This
issue kept arising from the Jewish leaders. They did not appreciate the good
things that Jesus did on the Sabbath. But Jesus was very clear about this. He
cared for the poor, the sick, the marginalized more than He cared for how some
people might interpret and apply God’s law. You see, it is easy to turn law
into a set of rules; it is much harder to care for the things of the heart. He
also made it clear to us who followed His path – we were here to serve. Our
service came out of love for our Liberator. All who followed Him were to love
and to serve, especially on the Sabbath.
You
have to remember what we had experienced as a people. Since the Babylonians
seized Judah in 586 B.C., we the Jews, had one foreign occupier after another
in our land. As conquerors go, the Romans weren’t all that bad. They allowed us
to worship God in His temple, and they appointed certain ones of us to govern.
Of course, we still longed to rule ourselves and throw the Roman rulers out.
Some of our people thought Jesus was just the man to lead that revolution. But
political upheaval wasn’t what He was teaching, and it wasn’t why He came to
earth.
How
is it that we can follow this path and believe these truths? To be honest, it
is not easy. In fact, some found this so hard that they left Jesus for good.
The rest of us would readily admit that we’re still working on what it means to
follow Him. So Jesus left behind a number of practices to help us. One of these
us known as the Lord’s supper. Jesus instructed us to break bread and share
wine to remember how he allowed His body to be broken for all humankind. In
some beautiful, mysterious way, Jesus is present for us in the simple elements
of bread and wine. Touch Him; taste His richness; remember His most glorious
hour on the cross. In that moment, He embraced all darkness and shame and
transformed them into light. As I come to the table with my community and we
feast on His light, life seems more hopeful and complete. As you take the bread
and wine, you affirm the reality that the Liberating King is among and within
you.
We
always looked forward to this week-long festival filled with food, worship, prayer,
and celebration. On this holiday, everyone moved out of their homes and camped
in temporary quarters, called booths, to remember that God was with us as our
ancestors wandered for 40 years without a home. It was common for us to
celebrate these holidays with family, so the brothers of Jesus were with us as
we discussed our destination. Where would we celebrate?
Notice
how Jesus changed in tone and subject. This shift seemed abrupt to us because
we didn’t know anything about the Pharisee’s plotting.
The
Holy Spirit connects us to the Father and His Son, the Liberating King. So lay
down any fear you have about being disconnected from God; the Creator of the
Universe dwells within you, sustains you, and will accomplish the impossible
through you. After Jesus’ exit, we, the church, take on our most important role
as we become His body here on earth. We are intimately connected to the living
God individually, but it is also is important to remember our journey is to be
shared in community. The church is a redeeming force in the world: His hands,
His feet, His body. If you want to know the Liberator, then you must know His
body. Life in Him is not just about embracing and loving God; it’s about being
the living body of the church. We will find strength, passion, and comfort in
our collective mission.
Imagine
the tension in that moment. You can sense the sarcasm in the air as these men
threatening Jesus are now calling Him “Teacher.” Jesus knew this was a test.
I
have had a few things to say about “the Jews.” You all seem to cringe every
time the subject arises. People are overly sensitive about that. The fact is: I
am a Jew. I am a son of Abraham, as are many in my community, so when I
criticize certain Jewish leaders I am not criticizing a whole people. I’m not
stereotyping or making generalizations. When I use the term “the Jews,” I am
talking about a corrupt group of power brokers who conspired against Jesus with
the Romans to have Him crucified and who later had my people expelled from the
synagogue. They are members of my family, and I can’t stand what they did to
Jesus and what they are doing to my other family, my faith family. Don’t you
remember the prophets? Men like Micah, Isaiah, and Amos? Prophets have the duty
– Jeremiah said he had “a fire in his bones” – to speak for God and condemn
hypocrisy and unbelief are found close to home, prophets must speak. That’s my
call. That’s what I’m doing.
Certainly
Jesus knew the Pharisees frowned on His Sabbath healings, but their opinions
were not His motivation to finish before sunset. Jesus used the sunset to make
a point to us: just as the sun illuminates the world, He brings enlightenment;
just as the sun is up for a short time each day, His time on earth is short.
It
seemed like the Pharisees were frequently around to challenge whatever Jesus
would say and do. But He would always get the better of them. Once again, Jesus
turned what the Pharisees said inside out. They thought blindness was a curse
that evidenced sin, and they thought vision ensured knowledge and understanding
– even concerning spiritual matters. Instead, the Pharisees’ confidence in
their vision and discernment made them unable to see the truth about Jesus.
Ironically, they had a blind trust in their sighted leaders. By refusing to
believe in Him, they were the sinners – not the blind man.
Jesus
loved to explain truth through the everyday things we encountered. He spoke of
vines, fruit, fishing, building, and shepherding. He was a master communicator.
In this methapor, Jesus is the shepherd. Eventually, He would become the sheep
as well. On the cross He was destined to become the innocent sacrifice that
would make all future sin sacrifices and burnt offerings unnecessary.
Once
again, Jesus amazed us. How could He raise Lazarus? What kind of man was this
who could speak life into death’s darkness? Throughout His time with us, we
were continually surprised by Jesus. He was obviously unique. He was unlike
anyone we had met before. I remember the time Jesus was awakened from a
peaceful rest and rose to face a fierce gale of wind and the stinging spray
that came off the Sea of Galilee. Even the seasoned sailors among us were
panicking. Jesus rebuked the storm and said, “That’s enough! Be still!”
Immediately the wind subsided. The rough sea became calm. Jesus turned to us
and rebuked us for our lack of faith. In the wake of that storm, we talked
among ourselves, asking, “Who is this Jesus? How can it be that He has power
over even the wind and the waves? And how could He have power over death?” It
took us a while, but more and more we became convinced this was no ordinary
man.
We
suspected during our time with Jesus that He was more than a man, but it took
the power and glory of the resurrection to convince us completely that Jesus
was divine. When we saw Him, when we touched Him, when the sound of His voice
thundered in our souls, we knew we were face-to-face with God’s immense glory,
the unique Son of God. As we read and reread the Scriptures in light our
experience of Him, we found that Jesus’ life and story were the climax of God’s
covenants with His people.
My
life changed that day; there was a new clarity about how I was supposed to
live. I saw the world in a totally new way. The dirt, grime, sin, pain,
rebellion, and torment around me were no longer impediments to the spiritual
path. Where I saw pain and filth, I found an opportunity to extend God’s
kingdom through an expression of love, humility, and service. This simple act
of washing feet is a metaphor for the lens that Jesus gives us to see the
world. He sees the people, the world He created – which He loves – He sees the
filth, the corruption in the world that torments us. His mission is to cleanse those whom He loves
from the horrors that torment them. This is His redemptive work with feet,
families, disease, famine, and our hearts. When Jesus saw disease, He saw the
opportunity to heal. When He saw sin, He saw a chance to forgive and redeem.
When He saw dirty feet, He saw a chance to wash them. What do you see when you
wander through the market, along the streets, on the beaches, and through the
slums? Are you disgusted? Or do you seize the opportunity to expand God’s reign
of love in the cosmos? This is what Jesus did. The places we avoid, Jesus
seeks.
Ultimately,
Peter was telling the truth. He was more than willing to lay down his life. But
none of us understood the magnitude of the persecution and hatred that was
about to be unleashed on all of us. Even Peter, dear Peter, was afraid. He
protested any inference to Jesus’ impending departure. We all would have done
the same. Jesus calmed our fears over and over again with stories, methapors,
and outright promises, saying, “I would never abandon you like orphans. I will
return to be with you.”
God
became flesh and lived among us, not just to have a transaction with us and
ultimately die, but to send His spirit to be present with us. So, in that, God
calls us to something greater, something more significant: We are here as
redeeming forces on this earth; our time here is about reclaiming the things He
has created. We believe that God has created the entire cosmos; our work here
is to say, “This belongs to God,” and to help point out the beauty of creation
to everyone we know, everyone we meet. And most of all, to live in it
ourselves.
The
Holy Spirit planted the teachings of our Lord into our very beings. God would
now dwell in the hearts of all true believers, and then the chasm between God
and humanity would be bridged. As you can imagine, the idea of Jesus leaving us
created a whirlwind of fear and doubt. But once again, Jesus reached in gently
and calmed our storms when He said, “I will now dwell inside of you.” A
connection is made between God and us, much like the first days in the garden –
God the Creator strolling in paradise with Adam. God is, once again in Jesus
and the Holy Spirit, present amid suffering, hope, sin, and friendship.
At a
time when all of us were feeling as if we were about to be uprooted, Jesus
sketched out a picture for us of this new life as a flourishing vineyard – a
labyrinth of vines and strong branches steeped in rich soil, abundant grapes
hanging from their vines ripening in the sun. Jesus sculpted out a new garden
of Eden in our imaginations – one that was bustling with fruit, sustenance, and
satisfying aromas. This is the Kingdom life. It is all about connection,
sustenance, and beauty.
As
Jesus warns us of the mistreatment we can expect, He disarms our fears by
reminding us of the most important things. If the Spirit is in us, we have no reason
to fear. In fact, the church will thrive under persecution. Yet we are obsessed
with power and political prominence as a means to influence the culture. As
Christian citizens, we have an obligation to actively strive for justice and
freedom. But how will that happen? Listen carefully, for this is the wisdom God
has given to each generation. Lasting justice and morality cannot be lobbied
for or legislated. It is a result of the Holy Spirit’s work in the lives of
those of us who learn that God loves us. So take heed, lest we forget these
important labors are always secondary to the gospel and at times even affect
the cause of the Liberating King negatively. True Christianity, the real work
of the Kingdom, often thrives under fierce attack and opposition. Jesus
announced this coming persecution to us, His followers, believing this will
lead to our finest hour.
The
promise of eternity is a reminder that we were made for another world. We found
great comfort amid our fear, knowing we would be reunited with our Liberating
King and joined with the Father. As we labor together in this world – enduring
pain, loss, and unfulfilled desires – be encouraged that in eternity all our
needs will be fulfilled in the presence of God.
All
of us disciples mourned Jesus’ refusal to take His rightful place as a king and
lead a revolution. Jesus knew that political might brute force, and earthly governments
are not helpful tools in a battle for hearts. Spiritual revolutions are
subversive. They are led by defiant acts of love (e.g., healing, foot washing,
and martyrdom). Laws do not change hearts, and violence induces hatred and
fear. But a sincere community of faith
in which love and hope are demonstrated even in the darkest hours will lead a
spiritual revolution. It is time we go forward with open eyes and continue to
labor as Christian citizens, placing our hope only in the redemptive work of
the gospel.
Generations
from now, believers will struggle to understand how they are connected to God
and one another. They will see themselves as autonomous individuals, free
agents who choose whatever allegiances suit them. Those of us who walked with
Jesus had a different perspective. Maybe it came from our faith. Probably both.
We already saw ourselves as dependent on and connected to other people. We
belonged to a family, a tribe, a people. To know who we were, we didn’t look
inside ourselves; we looked to others because they knew us and we were part of
them. No one needed to “find himself” because he already knew. Our identities were
tied up completely with others. The very nature of humans is that we grow from
within another human, taking on the characteristics of our parents who connect
us back to hundreds of generations. When Jesus entered our lives, none of this
changed; yet all of it changed. He became the center of our lives. We now
belonged to Him.
Now Caiaphas was high priest at this time. The sacred
office he occupied had been corrupted for more than a century by Jewish
collaboration with Greeks and Romans. Reformers were few, and they had been
unable to cleanse the high office from its pollutants. Because of this, many
Jews had stopped coming to the temple. How could God’s holy habitation on earth
be pure if its primary representative was coddling the enemies of Israel?
Caiaphas knew he needed friends in high places to put an end to Jesus. So he
turned to Pilate, the Roman governor. It was his job to look out for Roman
interests in Judea. History records that he was an irritable man, unnecessarily
cruel and intentionally provocative. Many Jews died on his watch. For Pilate,
Jesus would be just one more.
Initially, Pilate told the Jewish leaders to take Jesus
and try Him according to our own laws, but when they hinted at capital charges,
Pilate agreed to interrogate Jesus. Rome reserved the right to decide who lived
and died in the provinces. They didn’t delegate that to the Jewish high
council. The charge of blasphemy carried no weight in Roman jurisprudence for
it was a matter of our Jewish religious law. Rome had no opinion on such
matters. So a new charge must be concocted, a charge that Rome did care about.
Rome did care about taxes, of course, and took a dim view of anyone making
royal claims under their noses. Pilate agreed to hear the charge, not wasting a
Roman minute. He took Jesus inside and began asking Him about these charges.
I’d like to have been a fly on the wall when Pilate had
that private moment with Jesus. Pilate was interrogating Jesus like the man he
was: an insecure and cruel power broker representing Roman interests in our
land. Jesus, though, was doing His typical mustard seed bit, speaking right
over the head of the man who later would show Him no mercy. Pilate couldn’t
handle the truth when he asked, “Are you the King of the Jews?” Jesus was the
King of the Jews. And that was the truth. Although Pilate wouldn’t recognize
it, He was his King too. But as Jesus knew, the world didn’t recognize His
kingdom. That’s because it was sourced in heaven above, not in Rome. His
authority came from God the Father, Creator, Sustainer - not from the Roman senate.
Now you know who “the beloved disciple” is, the last
eyewitness to the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus. Mary became family to
me, fulfilling the dying wish of Jesus, my Savior. For those of us who gathered
at the foot of the Cross, family was less about blood kinship than it was about
covenant obedience. Caring for her was never a burden, and the reality is that
she has always been a simple and private woman. God made her the vessel to
bring His Son into the world, and her love for Him was warm and beautiful. Part
of me is protective of her, as a son naturally is of his mother. Still, I can
see why those who didn’t know her would want to learn more about this
remarkable woman, especially those grieving over their own losses. Surely they
are looking for answers to how to move forward in their own lives. The mother
of our Lord Jesus served the redemptive purposes of her son and the Savior of
us all until her last day on earth. When I would feel sorry for myself, I just
had to think about Jesus. He spent all this time before His death, and through
his death, showing us how to love and how to serve. He was asking me to do no
more in serving Mary than He did in serving us.
As the lifeless body of Jesus was laid into the virgin
tomb, those of us who witnessed the spectacle retreated into the city that had
claimed the lives of so many prophets. All of us were crushed that our teacher
and friend had died such a horrible death. Our hopes were dashed against the
rocks of Golgotha. In the first hours of our grief, we huddled together in
secret in the city, hoping to avoid our own arrests and executions. We mourned.
We grieved. We remembered. Three days later, some of us ventured outside the
city and returned to the place where He was buried. Miraculously, the stone was
rolled back and the rock-hewn tomb was empty. Had someone taken His body? Were
His enemies laying a trap for us? Or perhaps – could it be – that the last days
were here? Now I want you to know what I remember of the glorious day.
The hope of resurrection had often been a topic on the
lips of Jesus. Now it was taking shape in our time. Confusion gave way to
conviction as Jesus appeared to us alive over the next few Sundays. One by one
He convinced us that God raised Him from the dead.
After Jesus’ death, we didn’t know what to do with
ourselves. What we all knew was fishing. So – we went fishing. Jesus never
taught us how to turn two fish into a mound of food that could feed thousands,
and we had no money. So, if we wanted to eat, then we had to go catch some
fish. Grief has a way of stripping you down to basic survival skills. We were
still trying to wrap our brains around what happened and why. We couldn’t even
catch our own bait! We were a band of fisherman who were lost and lonely. But
just when we thought things couldn’t become stranger, Jesus showed up. He told
us to fish on the other side of the boat. We did, and we were suddenly
overwhelmed with fish. The nets were bulging. What He showed us here, is that
not only would our old ways of living leave us as empty as our nets, but our
old habits were not going to work for us anymore. He had impacted our lives in
a way that changed us forever. We couldn’t go back. And he knew we didn’t know
how to go forward.
After spending time with Jesus, I realize there are no
coincidences. He revealed to me a world where God is intimately involved, the
main actor in the drama of history. It was no accident that we caught the fish.
It was no accident the nets didn’t break. These fish, all 153, were a sign from
God representing the community of believers, men and women transformed by
faith. Some of us sat down and didn’t say a word as we pondered all of this.
Others busied themselves in work, their hands moving quickly to stack the catch
in baskets and untangle the nets. Each in his own way thought, wondered and prayed.
I have to admit, the prospect of it all still makes me smile.
That’s how I always begin and end my stories of Jesus. I
remind my little children that through faith He gives us the authority to
become the sons of God. Brother Paul said it’s all grace. He’s right. We are
what we are because of His wonderful work in us. The challenge we face everyday
is to become what we are – His loving, devoted children. To do that, we have to
strip away every vestige of our old lives. Like worn out clothes, we find our
former lives aren’t able to contain the beauty of this new creation. Before we
can put on the new life and take up our new calling, we have to set aside every
ugly and broken aspect of our lives. Repentance, Jesus told us, is not just
about what you put off. It’s about what you put on. In the human spirit, there
is no vacuum. Something will always occupy you and fill your life. It is either
life from above or death from below. If the resurrection of Jesus taught us
anything, it’s that He is the resurrection and the life. I’m not talking about
life after death. What I mean is that through Jesus we can have abundant life,
a full and meaningful life, here and now.
When Jesus took Simon Peter off to the side to speak to
him, the rest of us knew what was about to happen. He felt small. He felt he had betrayed Jesus.
Up to that point, neither Simon nor Jesus had brought it up. They sat far
enough away that the rest of us couldn’t hear what was said. We tried to look
busy, like we didn’t notice. But we did. Simon told us later how it went, what
Jesus said. I think that conversation on the beach that day affected him
profoundly. From then on, Simon was one of the most humble men I knew. What got
everyone’s attention was that Jesus called him “Simon.” He hadn’t done that in
years. From the time that Jesus gave him the nickname “Peter” (the Rock”), He
had always referred to him by that name. but “Peter” hadn’t felt like “the
Rock” ever since the night Judas betrayed us. For days he felt miserable, like
a complete traitor. Jesus knew that, so when it came time to give him “the
talk,” He called him “Simon.”
What Jesus did next was nothing short of brilliant. Three
time He asked Simon whether he loved Him. Simon was perturbed that Jesus asked
him the same question three times. But later he figured it out – with my help,
I might add. Three times Simon denied Him. Now Jesus gave him three chances to
repent, confess his love, and be restored. Face – to – face with His Lord, he
declared his love; and as he did, he felt the burden of his betrayal lift. He
began to feel more like the rock he was. Jesus forgave him and then
commissioned him to take care of His people. We all took notice. Our Master put
Peter, the Rock, in charge. We all learned a lesson that day. No matter what we
have done, no matter the weight of our burden and sin, our Master wants the
miracle of forgiveness to restore us to be the people He made us and called us
to be. Something happens when we confess our love for Jesus. We are
transformed. Our burdens lift. The positive confession of our love for God,
hearing His voice, and doing what He asks are as important as confessing our
faults.
Initially, all of us stayed in Jerusalem, basking in the
glow of the Spirit and the power of His presence. It took a wave of persecution
to dislodge us from David’s capital and take the message to Judea, Samaria, and
the ends of the earth. We really didn’t know what to expect. The suffering we
faced was a surprise, but we should have anticipated. Jesus suffered, so why
would it be any different for us? What He is showing us is that the fruits of
our labor will be so much sweeter when they are rooted in His mission.
He lays out this choice as He did on the beach when He
laid fish on the grill: “You can stay here if you want, and drown in grief,
spending the rest of your days trying to feed your own hunger. Or you can
follow Me, serve My people, and feast on My endless love.” What He is saying is
that our lives are about more than just feeding ourselves; they’re about
feeding the world.
I’ve reached the end of my story. This old man is tired
and ready for a rest. It will come soon enough. You’ll go on without me, but
not without my words. My voice is added to the voices of the prophets and the
witnesses. God has become flesh. Somehow this man, Jesus manifested God’s life
in our midst. Now that’s pretty big idea for a fisherman. I’ll let people
smarter than I am figure that one out, but l’ll go to my grave bearing witness
that it is true.
Now it is your turn to pass along the faith to your
children and grandchildren. It’s your turn to leave behind your former ways, as
we all did, to receive a new life. You have everything you need. You have the
Scriptures. You have my account of the good news. You have the Church. And you
have the Holy Spirit to empower and guide you. You are not alone.
As Jesus prayed for all of us, I pray to God the Father
that you will enter into God’s kingdom, that faith will grow deep inside you,
and that you will experience eternal life. I invite you to join me in this
marvelous journey.
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