John 20:21 – Practical Theology Today

Pondertude

About 20 years ago, I was introduced to the Franciscan retreat center, Pacem in Terris. It was founded and developed to provide Christ-followers a place to retreat in silence and solitude. Located near the community which I served as a Young Life Area Director, I couldn’t wait to “try it out.” After my first experience, scheduling a couple 2-day retreats per year at Pacem in Terris became a staple of the last 20 years of my ministry.

I am a fan and a proponent of the concept of blocking out regular times for silence and solitude, times for pondering scripture and encountering God, times for discovering what he is up to in my life, ministry, and the world at large. Though not a guided silent retreat, we were directed by Pacem in Terris staff to arrive with only our Bible and journal, allowing God to speak directly into our life by encountering him in scripture.

Something Jesus modeled (and I assume wanted his followers to emulate) was the practice of solitude. A couple well-known examples are found in the Gospel of Luke: Jesus went out to a mountainside to pray, and spent the night praying to God (Luke 6:12-13) and Jesus often withdrew to lonely places and prayed (Luke 5:16). When we read passages like this, we tend to agree with the concept, agree that we should do likewise, and THEN DON’T! Guilt sets in so we steer clear of similar passages.

Several years ago, while mentoring a Young Life staff trainee, he and I discovered that an expectation of a staff person was to schedule one day a month for solitude – a withdrawal from normal stuff to be with God. I gave the trainee the assignment of interviewing a couple senior staff persons to discover how they took advantage of their monthly day of solitude. He couldn’t find anyone who regularly scheduled times of solitude with God. Why was that? Jesus modeled it, then strongly suggested we follow suit (“In the same way the Father sent Me, I am now sending you” – John 20:21). Why do we not do it? Over the years, I have discovered a variety of reasons we give for not emulating Jesus’ example:

We think we are too busy to take chunks of time for solitude and reflection. People in ministry are as bad at this as anyone, if not worse. I often wonder how much of this is connected to an exaggerated view of one’s importance.
Fear seems to be a powerful justification for not spending time alone with God. “What if I ‘hear’ him speak into my life and I don’t like it?” I have heard this more than once from people reasoning why they shy away from solitude.
Many people speak of not knowing what to do or how to spend time alone with God. This is the brilliance of Pacem in Terris’ suggestion – simply reading scripture and reflecting. The late Howard Hendricks suggested reading for a 20-30 minutes, then reflecting for 20-30 minutes. And if I fall asleep? Then I fall asleep reflecting on scripture and God. How can that be a bad thing?
A common justification of us “doers” for not engaging in solitude: “I can’t shut my brain off.” Then don’t. Let your brain loose to reflect and ponder the scripture you are engaged with.

This is where the late Dallas Willard’s description of prayer is helpful – talking to God about what we are doing together, pondering together what’s going on my life. Picture Jesus’ times with God as exactly that. Picture Jesus pondering, “I really like Peter, though I know he’s a hothead. I wonder if he is someone I should develop as a follower?” (Or, more likely, “Peter? Seriously, Father? One of the Twelve?”) I can picture Jesus pondering with God, looking for ways to help his followers understand the reversal of the kingdom he was inaugurating. Maybe it was through times of pondering and talking with God about what they were doing together that he landed on the idea of passing through Samaria instead of around it as they traveled from Jerusalem to Galilee (see John 4).

Out of my experiences of solitude and pondering, plus a desire to make the experience less mystical for others, I coined the term pondertude. It describes the reality of my times with God – alone with him (solitude), pondering what we are doing together. Pondering what we are doing together in all my roles in His kingdom – as a husband, a dad, a grandpa, an engineer, a supervisor, a ministry leader, a math tutor, etc. Though I love Pacem in Terris, pondertude is a frame of mind more than a place. It’s a choice to regularly be with the One who knows us better than we know ourselves, who has our best interests in mind. Why wouldn’t we want to block out times for pondertude?

He Picked Levi, Too!

Ten years ago we started Young Life in Elk River, MN, the town where I grew up. After a 20+ year absence from the community, we returned and I became the director of youth ministries at a local church. Five years into my tenure at the church, at the urging of the senior pastor, I left the youth ministry work in the hands of others and helped start the community outreach ministry.

A local Young Life presence exists only if the community deems it important enough to provide leadership and financial support. One way of communicating the importance of the ministry and to garner financial support is an annual fund-raising banquet. At our first banquet, we invited the Mayor of Elk River to close the evening with prayer. Prior to praying, she made a couple comments, including the belief that my late-father and former mayor would have been immensely proud of his son. I assumed she was right. Over the years, unfortunately, I’ve known of a number of dads who could not say they were proud of their sons. Take Alphaeus, for example.

Alphaeus’ son, Levi, had gone over to the dark side – he became a tax collector for the Roman empire. Conquerors relied heavily on the taxes collected from their subjects. Given the aggressive building of infrastructure including entire cities, the Romans especially needed to collect significant monies. Their approach was to outsource tax collection – the recruitment of locals as tax collectors. With community eyes, these local tax collectors were well aware who they could bleed for funds. They worked on commission – the more they could collect, the more for themselves. It has also been suggested that a tax collector had a quota to reach. Anything above and beyond was theirs to keep. In essence, a tax collector was a traitor in the eyes of his community.

In Palestine, the tax collector was more than simply a traitor. He was in league with the pagan government. They were doubly despised for their choice of occupation – traitors to the people and traitors to their God. The Mishnah, the written collection of Jewish oral tradition, tells us that Jews who collected taxes were disqualified in every manner – expelled from the synagogue, shunned publicly, and a family disgrace. Thus, tax collectors and sinners were considered one and the same (cf. Matthew 11:19, Luke 5:30, 15:1).

We don’t know anything about Alphaeus’ response to his son’s career choice. But we do have record of Jesus’ interaction with Levi, also known as Matthew (cf. Matthew 9:9-13, Mark 2:13-17, Luke 5:27-32). Jesus was walking along the beach, much like he had when he called the fishermen – Peter, Andrew, James, and John – to become his followers. The Gospel of Mark indicates he was accompanied by a crowd that he was teaching. We can surmise that his newly called fishermen followers were among the crowd. We can also surmise that a source of revenue for Levi was the Galilee fishing industry.

Imagine the scene. Jesus is sitting on the beach teaching. Somewhere in the background, maybe down the beach a hundred feet or so, sits Levi at his tax booth. Imagine the fishermen in the crowd seething with anger just at the sight of this shunned traitor. Imagine, if you are Levi. What’s running through your mind as you watch the interaction of Jesus with the crowd? You long for such interaction.

Then Jesus breaks the rules again. He gets up, walks over to Levi and invites him to become a follower. Levi left everything, rose and followed Jesus (Luke 5:28). Everything. The fishermen left their fathers, but they could always go back to fishing as a fall-back option. Levi left everything. There was no going back. And he did not have family as a fall-back.

We should also imagine the crowd’s reaction to Jesus’ invitation of Levi. Imagine the deep and rightfully held indignation of the people when Jesus not only entered into a conversation with this shunned character, but invited him to join the crowd that was following him. Specifically, imagine the indignation of the fishermen. Jesus gave James and John the nicknames “sons of thunder.” Peter was passionate and zealous about injustice. I can imagine Jesus needing to physical hold these guys back when Levi rose to follow. Then Jesus broke the rules yet again – he accepted an invitation to a party Levi threw for him, inviting his “tax collector and sinner” associates.

Fast forward three years as Jesus said to his followers, “In the same way the Father sent Me, I am now sending you” (John 20:21). I suspect this experience was in the back of their minds as they listened to Jesus’ directive. Jesus expected them to set aside their righteous indignation in favor of the outsider. I assume he expects the same of us.

He Picked Me!

Circa Spring 1958. I was in third grade at Handke Elementary. We took Bus #5 from the farm to school. The bus driver actually made two trips each morning. The neighbor kids up the road were the last to get on the bus for the first trip, we were the first for the second route. The first route riders arrived at school about 20-25 minutes before start time. The second route got us to school just as the first bell rang.

When I arrived at school, the town kids would be coming in from the playground after playing some pick-up baseball. I wanted to play ball all my life, but farm chores negated that opportunity. Maybe there was a way I could get in on the pick-up games. I negotiated with the bus driver that if I was at the road when he came by the first time, he would pick me up allowing me to get early for some baseball. Life was good! Sort of. By the time I got to the playground, teams were already picked and the captains argued over who had to take me. Because the others played ball together all summer, they knew each other’s abilities. I was an unknown and lived with those feelings of being “picked last.”

One day Tim Thompson showed up. Tim, I discovered, was a pretty big deal. He was in eighth grade and apparently was a really good ball player. The town kids urged Tim to play, but they couldn’t decide which team should get him. So Tim solved the problem. He said, “Let me pick one player and we will take on all the rest of you. However, we get to bat first.” Of course all the town kids huddled around him, yelling, “Pick me! Pick me!” Tim looked around and…

…he picked me – the most unlikely candidate! So it was Tim and me against nine. He asked if I could hit. I said, “Yes.” He said, “Good. Just get on base and I’ll get you home!” And that’s what we did. I got on base and Tim hit a home run – again and again. I don’t think the other team ever got to bat! I felt valued (and a bit vindicated).

Jesus tended to invite people to follow him who were not likely candidates. Israel’s first-century education system was religiously focused. The boys (sorry girls) started school at about age six. For the next 3-4 years they memorized the Torah – Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers and Deuteronomy. By age 10, those with natural abilities to memorize and understand the scriptures began to distance themselves from the others. They were invited to continue their education. The others? They were sent back home to learn the trades of their fathers. They were cut by the system – kinda like American sports.

Those that continued a formal education spent the next four years memorizing the rest of the Hebrew scriptures. During this time, the students also began learning the questions that surrounded the scriptures. By age 14-15, only the best of the best students remained. The rest were home, learning the trade of their fathers. Those remaining would then apply to a well-known rabbi (teacher) to become one of that rabbi’s disciples (student/learner). If selected, the rabbi would invite the student to “follow me.” The goal of the student, now a disciple, wasn’t just to learn from the rabbi, but to actually become like him and participate in his mission.

Jesus was apparently a rabbi. People called him one, so at the very least he was perceived as a rabbi. Jesus lived around the lake Galilee region, probably in the fishing village of Capernaum. It was a small town so it would be safe to say he knew and was known by a majority of its residents. I’m guessing the locals were fully aware that their resident rabbi wasn’t like the rest, though they couldn’t quite put their finger on why he was different.

One day Jesus was out walking along the beach. He saw two brothers, the local fishermen Simon (Peter) and Andrew. He called out to them, “Follow me, and I will make you fishers of people.” Farther down the beach, Jesus encountered James and John who were fishing with their father. They received the same invitation. All four RSVP’d immediately, dropping their careers to follow Jesus. There is enough here for several blog postings, but we will briefly consider a few things…

Jesus was probably not a stranger to the four fishermen. As Jesus demonstrated throughout his ministry, he was relationally invested in the people around him. We can certainly surmise that Jesus knew these guys, maybe quite well. Likely they were his source of fresh fish.
The four guys were probably well aware of Jesus as a teacher (rabbi) who taught and said things differently than they had heard from other teachers. They were hearing about God and his kingdom in new ways. Maybe what Jesus said sounded right to them.
This rabbi invited these most unlikely candidates to follow him! They were, after all, no longer going to school. They had been cut and were working their fathers’ trade. Yet Jesus said, “Follow me.”

Given this, why wouldn’t they have walked away from their careers to follow the radical rabbi, Jesus – to become like him and share in his mission? We cannot, we should not take lightly Jesus’ call on us to follow Him, even if we feel like unlikely candidates – especially if we feel like unlikely candidates. Nor should we take lightly his call on those around us who seem like unlikely candidates.

“In the same way the Father sent Me, I am now sending you” (John 20:21)

Chili Con Carne 2.0 (or Geometry 101)

Circa 1987. After a 5 year stint with Young Life, we decided it would be healthy for family and me to return to the world of engineering. I took a structural engineering position in Red Wing, MN, designing high voltage electrical transmission structures. My desire to work with high school kids, however, had not diminished, so I went to some Red Wing High School cross country meets. Not only did I meet a few kids, but also the coach, discovering he was the geometry teacher at RWHS. I asked him if he had a need for a tutor. His response: “YES!!” So, I began to volunteer at RWHS 2-3 days a week during my lunch hour.

In the meantime my wife, Barb, and I joined a small group through the church we were attending. One of the members was particularly fascinated that I chose to tutor high school students with no apparent agenda. A bit out of frustration, he finally asked, “How do you make the transition?” I knew what he was asking. He wanted to know how I transitioned from tutoring to telling kids about Jesus. My response was politically correct – kids needed caring adults in their lives regardless of any potential to share the Gospel. He was not satisfied with my answer. Nor was I. It was one of those times I went away thinking there must have been a better response.

I lay in bed that evening running the conversation through my mind, wondering what a better response might have been. Around 11:00p, I sat up in bed and said, “I get it!” Barb (who was sleeping and a bit annoyed at being awakened) asked “You get what?” I said excitingly, “I am the transition!”

In the previous post we posed the question “How was Jesus sent?” in response to the directive to his followers, “In the same way the Father sent Me, I am now sending you” (John 20:21). If we are to follow that directive, then it’s important we consider how Jesus was sent by the Father. In the post we considered the incarnation of Jesus, his taking on of human form and living among humanity. “The Word became flesh and blood, and moved into the neighborhood” (John 1:14, The Message).

So what? How does that affect what 21st century Christ-followers do? It affects everything. As followers of Jesus, He lives in us through the Spirit. The apostle Paul reminded the believers in Galatia of this: “I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me” (Galatians 2:20). And to the followers in Ephesus he prayed they realize the resource of the Spirit within and that “Christ will make his home in your hearts as you trust in him” (Ephesians 3:16-17). Just as Jesus was an incarnate being, so are we!

That means when I attend a cross country meet or tutor high school students, Jesus is in their presence. To borrow a term from Guy Doud, the Staples, MN, educator who was the national teacher of the year in 1986, we get to be “Jesus with skin on” to those around us. We become the transition!

What does that look like for you and me as we live out life? It means when we cross the road to be with our neighbor, Jesus is visiting her. It means when we engage in a conversation with the checkout person at Walmart, so does Jesus. We don’t have to work so hard to share Jesus – we can’t help but! To be “Jesus with skin on” is the highest calling and privilege afforded to Christ-followers! “In the same way the Father sent Me, I am now sending you.”

Chili Con Carne

Fall is here (though it doesn’t feel like it – as I write this temps, are approaching the mid-80s with the dew point in the 70s). The advent of cooler weather increases my appetite for chili. I like all kinds of chili – mild or spicy, and the thicker the better. In restaurants, I like to load up a good bowl of chili with onions, cheese, and sour cream. At home, its the addition of buttered soda crackers (you have to try it sometime!).

Last week I was sitting with my mom at Guardian Angels Care Center, watching one of her two favorite TV shows – The Rachel Ray Show (the other favorite being Jeopardy). Rachel Ray was making chili. I could almost smell it as she did the prep work. Along with all kinds of good looking ingredients, she included some chorizo. Brilliant!

You may or may not be aware of this, but what we simply refer to as “chili” is technically known as “chili con carne” – chili with (con) meat (carne).

As we consider Jesus’ directive to his first century followers “In the same way the Father sent Me, I am now sending you” (John 20:21), it’s imperative that we start at the very beginning of his time on earth. The opening of the Gospel of John tells who Jesus is: “At the beginning God expressed himself. That personal expression, that word, was with God, and was God, and he existed with God from the beginning… So the word of God became a human being and lived among us” (John 1:1-2, 14, JB Phillips New Testament).

How did the Father send the Son? In bodily (human) form! In Jesus! The theological term for this is incarnation, which is connected to the Latin word carne. Incarnation means God in the flesh, God with ‘meat’ (con carne). It’s easy to gloss over this as simply a theological reality and miss it’s implications for Christ-followers who are wanting to discover the practicality of theology.

Continuing in the JB Phillips New Testament, I want to direct our attention to Philippians 2, written by the Apostle Paul: “Let your attitude to life be that of Christ Jesus himself. For he, who had always been God by nature, did not cling to his privileges* as God’s equal, but stripped himself of every advantage by consenting to be a slave by nature and being born a [human being]” (Philippians 2:5-7). What kind of privileges did Jesus give up to become a human being? I can think of a few to start with…

His omnipresence (another theological term) – the ability to be anywhere, anytime, all the time. He gave up that privilege and confined himself to the womb of one of His own creations – not much movement there! And after his birth, he had to learn to sit, crawl, stand, and walk just like everyone else. As a grown person, he was limited to walking about 3 mph, just like everyone else.
His omniscience – his knowledge about everything, past present and future. When Jesus came out of the birth canal, his brain was a piece of flesh that required input and learning, just like everyone else. Keep in mind this was provided by family and teachers who were also his creations.
His omnipotence – his unlimited power. He was limited to the physical abilities of a human body, susceptible to injury and disease, just like everyone else.
(Likely we could think of other privileges Jesus gave up to become a human being. I highly encourage you to ponder other examples.)

Since we tend to gloss over the incarnation as simply a theological reality, it’s important to realize that we also gloss over and have domesticated Jesus’ birth – that sweet little boy lying in a fresh bed of hay in a cute manger. Try viewing his birth through the realities of what we’ve discussed above. It will change everything for you. I promise!

* The online version version of the JB Phillips New Testament uses the word prerogative. In my hard-copy, its privileges.

Out of the Salt Shaker

In 1979, I stumbled onto a great little read to which I still reference 40 years later – Out of the Salt Shaker and into the World: Evangelism as a Way of Life, by Rebecca Manley Pippert. She drew attention to an easily overlooked passage in the Gospel of John that was key to the development of a philosophy of ministry/life that has served me well for the past 35-40 years.

The passage is from John 20. On the evening of the day of Jesus’ resurrection, the disciples were huddled behind locked doors in fear of the Jewish religious leaders who might have been out searching for them. John, an eye witness, writes that Jesus came and stood among them, apparently just showing up in the room, presumably not having opened the door! His first words were, “Peace be with you” – an appropriate response when one pops into a room without opening a door!

Jesus proceeded to show them the scars from the crucifixion he experienced two days earlier, to which the disciples were relieved that it was Him and not a ghost of some sort. Then Jesus repeated, “Peace be with you” followed by “In the same way the Father sent Me, I am now sending you” (John 20:21). Turned out to be a pretty revolutionary statement…

Forty days after Jesus popped in among his followers, he departed them and left in their hands the Kingdom work he had inaugurated (See Acts 1). On the day of Pentecost, one of the significant Jewish festivals, the Holy Spirit arrived in their presence, marking the start of the Kingdom work for which Jesus had prepared them to carry out. What I find interesting is this: Reading through the Book of Acts, the story of Jesus’ followers going about the work of the Kingdom, nowhere do we see them ask “How are we supposed to do this?” They just did it. They knew because they had been with Jesus, apprentices learning from the master. They did what he did. “In the same way the Father sent Me, I am now sending you.”

Fast forward a couple thousand years. As 21st century Christ-followers, we have been tasked with the same Kingdom work. How should we do that work? To me, its pretty straight forward: “In the same way the Father sent Me, I am now sending you.” We are being sent in the same manner that Jesus was sent. If you have been reading my postings regularly, you know where this is going: Read the Gospels! The disciples knew what to do by watching how Jesus did things, how he was sent. You and I can do the same. As we spend time with Jesus in the Gospel accounts, we begin to see how he was sent.

In your future readings of the Gospels, I encourage you to be asking the question, “How was Jesus sent?” 40 years ago, I poured through the Gospels with the express purpose of answering that question. The outcome was revolutionary, leading to a philosophy of ministry/life that, as I said earlier, has served me well. In fact, as I write this, it occurred to me that many of the “Right Things” listed in the previous post are directly related to a continuous asking of how Jesus was sent.

Stay tuned – In subsequent postings, we will look at some of the ways Jesus was sent.