Category: Christian Living

In a memorable — and likely much memorized — episode in the ministry of Jesus, a scribe whose fellows had been laying theological and political traps for Jesus, approached him sincerely.

Keeping with the tradition of asking rabbis to summarize the demands of the law, the scribe asked Jesus “what is the greatest commandment?” (see Mark 12:28-34). Jesus gave him not one, but two: love God (Deuteronomy 6:5) and love neighbor (Leviticus 19:18).

These weren’t necessarily radical concepts: other rabbis before and after Jesus cited both of these. But what Jesus did that other rabbis didn’t was combine them. According to Jesus, there is no greater law than these.

The demands of love for God are high, in themselves: we are to love him with our whole heart, soul, mind and strength. In a sense, we are to love God with the mind, will, and emotions PLUS an undivided, loyal heart. Our dedication to God must be total: we can harbor no alternative deity or backup means of salvation. Our passions (what our predecessors called “affections”) must be oriented to respond to God and his truth. Our mind, intellect, habits of thinking must be exercised to appreciate the truth of God. And our actions must accord with what our mind has apprehended and what our emotions have praised.

There are many things that threaten our single-minded devotion to God, and divide our hearts from him. The world and its accoutrements demand our passions and emotions, and all too frequently get them (what, for instance, do you get most excited about?). We too frequently decide that we know enough, we have been schooled enough, we have studied enough and can put our minds in “neutral” regarding spiritual things, biblical things, God things. And the temptation to be the spiritual couch potato and either fail to act according to our God-ward thoughts and emotions or to expend all our energy in worldly pursuits (what do you find yourself most tired after?)

As demanding as those expectations are, Jesus adds that we are to love our neighbor as ourself. And this “neighbor” is not merely the one who looks like me, dresses like me, acts like me, but is all those who are different and in need. Which is to say, after all, all of us.

Certainly Jesus’ combination of these two demands is significant. We don’t love God rightly if we don’t love our neighbor. We don’t love our neighbor rightly when we don’t love God. Loving God is ontologically prior to properly loving anyone else, including ourselves. But perhaps we demonstrate or apply love for God by seeking and obtaining the highest good for our neighbor.

We cannot love God or love neighbor without soul that is regenerated and sanctified by the Holy Spirit. And how different Christ-followers would look to each other and to the world should we seek his aid in loving rightly.

We’ve all heard the quip about death and taxes.

One of life’s most pervasive, ubiquitous influences is responsible for one, sometimes both of those: government. Some might say another of life’s most pervasive, ubiquitous influences — marriage — could also be responsible for one of them, though sociological research suggests that those who marry live longer, which immediately calls to mind other research which demonstrates that those who have dogs or cats tend to live longer, as well, although with considerably more worn and less-fresh furniture.

Government tends to affect us all our lives. From the time we are born and feet-printed at the hospital to the time that we die and someone is required to prove it, government is everywhere. Similarly, marriage tends to be on the minds of most people their entire lives. Before marriage, single people plan to be, although that plan is sometimes distorted into the sinful desire simply to “hook up” temporarily. After marriage — whether it’s ended by death or divorce — much of life remains oriented around the former relationship.

Jesus, in Mark 12, declares that both of these relationships are eclipsed by his kingdom, both in its already/not-yet manifestation and in its eternal consummation.

When asked about paying taxes, Jesus issues the famous line, “Render to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s, and to God the things that are God’s” (Mark 12:17, ESV). And when he was tested on the question of marriage relationships after the resurrection, he said “Is this not the reason you are wrong, because you know neither the Scriptures nor the power of God?” (Mark 12:24, ESV).

Jesus warns that during our time on earth we should be careful not to take on the image of Caesar. And he cautions us that we should not have an image of heaven that is too dependent upon earthly relationships that will not continue after the resurrection. When we take on the image of Caesar by entangling ourselves to readily with the affairs and demands of government, we refute the reality of an inaugurated kingdom and take glory that is rightfully God’s. And when we rely to heavily upon even good earthly relationships — such as marriage — supposing that any decent heaven would include a continuation of it, we remake heaven in our own image and take glory that is rightfully God’s.

How extensive is the kingdom of Christ to which he calls his people right now? It transcends both our relationship to earthly government now and our marriage relationship forever.

We have a love/hate relationship with authority.

When that miscreant who cut me off in traffic is pulled over by a trooper a few miles down the road, I’m loving authority.

When I’m late for a meeting, and the same trooper pulls me over for speeding and then tells me I can’t drive away because my license tag light is out, authority for me ranks right below root canal.

Authority and submission were part of the natural environment for mankind before sin and corruption entered the picture. Adam and Eve were to exercise delegated authority from God, and were to establish a relationship of equal worth but different roles, roles which included loving authority and glad submission — leadership and followership.

Since the Fall, authority and submission have both taken the proverbial beating. Authority is abused and submission is resisted.

In Mark 11:27-12:12, Jesus comes along proclaiming what he had to that point been demonstrating: his authority. His authority is to teach, to cast out demons, to heal diseases, to calm winds and seas, to raise the dead. And his authority is to dictate the terms of entry to his kingdom. That is, Jesus decides the terms of salvation.

We learn elsewhere that Jesus insisted that he did not act on his own authority, but on the authority granted him by the Father.

In our love/hate relationship with authority, we tend to believe that the exercise of authority is incompatible with love, and that love could not possibly include the exercise of authority. The fullest expression of God’s love toward man is Jesus, who in Mark spends the majority of his time demonstrating and then proclaiming his authority.

Authority and love are obviously not strangers.

Jesus, the second Adam, came in part demonstrating the loving authority that Adam failed to display. And Jesus delegates that authority to his followers: to make disciples, to lead wives, to train children, to hire workers, to preach Scripture. When Jesus told his disciples not to lord leadership over people, he did not mean that no one should lead, that no one should exercise authority.

Culture abounds with examples of authority recklessly abdicated. The solution is not no authority, but loving authority, and glad submission.

Not that you should.

When we talk about the reorientation of attitude and behavior that Christ advocates with the coming of his kingdom (Mark 10:32-45), it’s easy to float on the surface of the waters instead of diving deep into the heart problem that is in view.

In this episode, Jesus has announced — in graphic detail — just exactly what he was going to do for his people. Two of those people — James and John — take the opportunity to ask for favors. Later in the exchange Jesus explains that his attitude, which led to his giving himself as a ransom, should govern theirs, as well.

When we attempt to apply this to our own attitude and behavior, we meet the same resistance in ourselves that Jesus likely faced with his immediate followers. Jesus was — through his crucifixion and ransom — making much of the people he was (and is) saving. He has already made much of us, and it is ours now to make much of others.

Yet their response to being told that Jesus himself was making much of them was to ask to made more of.

A shallow view of this teaching is simply to exhort ourselves to “think of others,” and as proof that we are doing so we think of helping an old lady across the street, giving a ride to a stranger, putting a dollar in the Salvation Army kettle. Those things are certainly aspects of what Jesus taught, but not entirely.

The essential problem is that we do these things and want to be recognized. We want to be thanked. We want to be approved. If the old lady doesn’t pinch our cheek and tell us what great people we are, we feel wronged and vow henceforth to steer clear of street crossings and nursing homes.

This is the attitude that Jesus confronted.

When your husband does NOT whisper sweet nothings in your ear, when your wife FORGETS to make your lunch, when your children DON’T heap accolades on you, when your friends make ANOTHER the center of attention at the party, when your church family FAILS to recognize your invaluable contribution, you are — like James and John — asking to be made more of despite the sacrifices already being made.

And note that the problem is not that we get our feelings hurt or grow angry when we are not made much of, but that we even notice that we are not made much of in the first place.

If you are making much of your husband, you don’t notice that he doesn’t write you poetry. If you are making much of your wife, you don’t notice that she put your razor in the wrong drawer. When you are making much of your children, you don’t care that they aren’t always praising your great parenting. When you make much of other church members, you don’t notice that they didn’t invite you to a party, ask you to teach a class, or comment on your lovely dress or new truck.

It is much easier to put others first when the others are further away from us — like the old lady, the stranger, the Salvation Army. It is much more difficult when those others are the ones closest to us.