A Testament of Faith, Acts 1:1-3

 —  February 18, 2010 — 1 Comment

1 In the first book, O Theophilus, I have dealt with all that Jesus began to do and teach, 2 until the day when he was taken up, after he had given commands through the Holy Spirit to the apostles whom he had chosen. 3 He presented himself alive to them after his suffering by many proofs, appearing to them during forty days and speaking about the kingdom of God.

Acts 1:1-3, ESV

According to Luke 1:1, many sought to provide a narrative of the life of Jesus. The penman of the book that bears his name saw himself as one of many. The penmanship of the Gospel of Luke is attributed to him because of the certainty by which it is believed he penned Acts. If he wrote Acts to Theophilus as a continuation of “the first book,” then he would be responsible for Luke as well. I don’t deny this.

Luke traveled with Paul. He was a physician (Col. 4:14) and the only Gentile penman for the New Testament. I don’t know why, but the work of Luke through divine inspiration appeals to me. There’s something about his life that appeals to me.

Despite his not having been the visible, eyewitness to Jesus that others were, he still was a man of incredible faith in Jesus. This is attested to by the prologues of the books he penned (Luke 1 and Acts 1).

Consider the certainty with which he writes Theophilus. No hesitation. No couching his words with: “I think…” or “It’s my opinion…” There is no question in his mind. “He presented himself alive to them after his suffering by many proofs, appearing to them forty days and speaking about the kingdom of God.” His is a strong affirmation, as strong an affirmation as there is without belaboring the point, of the gospel of Jesus Christ (1 Cor. 15:1-4) and his faith in it.

These first three verses are a strong statement, a testament of faith that echoes through 2000 years of history right to our hearts. Nothing can quench the echo; no one and no thing can stop its reverberation.

The testament of faith lies in the ability to see with the heart’s eyes (Eph. 1:18).  That’s how Luke saw. I love how Peter, one who spent three years in intimate connection with Jesus, writes to those who weren’t afforded his privilege: “Though you have not seen him, you love him. Though you do not now see him, you believe in him and rejoice with joy that is inexpressible and filled with glory” (1 Peter 1:8, ESV). Peter saw Jesus’ life with his physical eyes and was impacted. Others see his life through spiritual eyes and are no less impacted.

We, too, are able to stand with Luke in firm conviction. Being lost in Jesus makes it possible. I need not see him in the flesh. I need not have a vision that takes me into the 3rd heaven to believe. I believe because I sense his presence on the inside, giving me the fullness of God (Ephesians 3: 17-19), and no one can take that away.

In Acts
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Structure

 —  February 17, 2010 — Leave a comment

In my CRR program, we have dealt extensively with organizational structure. It’s been helpful in revealing to me that I, personally, need some in my own life. I’m getting some and I plan on bringing some of it here.

Of late, I have been entrenched in Acts in an effort to see how those who put on Christ lost themselves in Him. How was it that they found themselves converging with Christ as He was formed in them (Gal. 4:19)?  This has been my focus as I have begun working my way through the text.

I’m ready to share some thoughts. I am going to place them here in an effort to home in on a spiritual concept that I cannot get out of my mind. I hope you get something out of it. I know I will.

Tomorrow…A Testament of Faith, Acts 1:1-3

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Thoughts on the Pain of Jesus

 —  February 10, 2010 — 2 Comments

Early this morning, Tisha and I read through Matthew 26 as a part of our daily bible reading and devotional time. When we were done, we discussed the events surrounding the betrayal, denial and desertion of Jesus, all of which were predicted by him prior to His prayer at Gethsemane. Jesus’ frustration with Peter, James, and John not being able to stay awake and pray with him, apparently, was so that they wouldn’t “enter into temptation” (v. 35). Temptation from what? Or temptation to do what? Could some of his prayer, and the agony that accompanied it, have been for the disciples, that they, especially Peter, not succumb to what he’s already predicted? Interesting enough, the last thing he says before Judas and his contingent arrived was, “Sleep and take your rest later on. See, the hour is at hand, and the Son of Man is betrayed into the hands of sinners” (Matthew 26:45).

The pains of Jesus in the garden had to have been numerous, but I wonder how much of “the cup” that Jesus prayed for God to remove was oriented around bypassing the betrayal, denial, and desertion by those he loved? I’m not suggesting that the agony with which he prayed wasn’t, in any way, about the death process he would experience. But I am saying that the context that Matthew paints seems to be aligned around his three predictions of betrayal by Judas (vv. 14-16), denial by Peter (vv. 30-35), and desertion by the others (v. 31). In fact, that is precisely Jesus’ concern in Matthew 26:45.

It had to have been tough for someone who loved so much to have experienced such betrayal. Think about Peter’s firm affirmation that there is no way in the world that he would deny Jesus (v. 35). It’s a grave warning to all of us: We should be very careful with our confidence.

We know their actions caused significant trauma. Judas took his own life. John actually reflects upon the effects Peter’s denial had upon him (John 21:15-23). Read it for yourself. It’s not as apparent in the English, but in the Greek we see that Peter couldn’t so much bring himself to say that he loved Jesus with agape love. Jesus asked him, the first two times, if he loved him with agape, but all Peter can muster is that he loved him with phileo love. Ouch. Peter, apparently, was devastated to the core. I’m inclined to think that Jesus, seeing it coming, was as pained by what Peter would do as Peter was after he did it.

I know there is a lot that is going on that the text simply doesn’t reveal. But this has stuck with me since this morning. At the moment, I am thinking about my friends. I am thinking about the pain I might have caused some of them. I am letting go, though, of the pain other friends might have caused me. Thank you God for opening my eyes to all this!

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More reflections on getting lost

 —  January 27, 2010 — 6 Comments

Getting lost in Jesus helps us to see people and situations as he saw them and continues to see them. In my pursuit of “getting lost,” God has brought before me situations and people who demand I approach them from his posture. Getting lost in Jesus is what makes it possible!

Personal conflict, sexual addiction, disease and death, all demand the sight of One who doesn’t ignore, but instead pastors. He is the “chief Shepherd” (1 Peter 5:4), and while his pattern for pastoring is to guide “the elders” among the church (1 Peter 5:1), who among God’s people, as His disciples, shouldn’t possess the heart that feels and moves like a shepherd? Do we get passes from operating with the heart of Jesus because we aren’t a certain age? I don’t think so. His heart, eyes, hands, and words served to mitigate the suffering of those who’s lives were, for whatever reason, turned upside down.

Last week I saw a woman console another that, too me, resembled Jesus. It was almost as if I saw Jesus as the one doing the consoling. It was a powerful moment. I think Colossians 3:3-4 is coming together in ways I’d before never recognized. Could this be an indication that I’m getting lost?

In Jesus
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Yoke

 —  January 21, 2010 — Leave a comment

Getting lost in Jesus, I’m learning, means I’ve got to let go of some things. One of the things I have had to let go of is the sense that I need to write about things so regularly. I want to but just can’t. I would love to chronicle this whole thing as it develops, and I plan on doing some of that, but now isn’t the time. The rigors are too much.

I will say this…Jesus has an incredible way of working with us. I think I now understand why Malachi projected the Messiah as a “refiner” (Malachi 3:1-3). I’m no blacksmith, but I know a little bit about metals. I know the refining process requires heat, time and patience. It’s a messy process. I don’t know why I thought the transformation from one image of glory to another (2 Cor. 3:18) or losing my life in his (Colossians 3:3) would be easy. Just goes to show how out of touch some of us can be.

I think the hardest thing to accept is that Jesus meant what he said when he declared, “My yoke is easy, my burden is light (Matthew 11:30). The struggles of getting lost in Jesus are experienced in the pains of accepting his ways over man’s. It doesn’t feel right, and I’m fighting it hardcore. But then why did he say it if he didn’t mean it?

A while back, a friend of mine sent me an email that has stuck with me since. It was something penned by the late Henry Drummond. It’s about the word yoke. Take it in.

Did you ever stop to ask what a yoke is really for? Is it to be a burden to the animal which wears it? It is just the opposite: it is to make its burden light. Attached to the oxen in any other way than by a yoke, the plow would be intolerable; worked by means of a yoke, it is light. A yoke is not an instrument of torture; it is an instrument of mercy. It is not a malicious contrivance for making work hard; it is a gentle device to make hard labor light.

[Christ] knew the difference between a smooth yoke and a rough one, a bad fit and a good one… The rough yoke galled, and the burden was heavy; the smooth yoke caused no pain, and the load was lightly drawn. The badly fitted harness was a misery; the well-fitted collar was “easy”. And what was the “burden”? It was not some special burden laid upon the Christian, some unique infliction that they alone must bear. It was what all men bear: it was simply life, human life itself, the general burden of life which all must carry with them from the cradle to the grave.

Christ saw that men took life painfully. To some it was a weariness, to others failure, to many a tragedy, to all a struggle and a pain. How to carry this burden of life had been the whole world’s problem. And here is Christ’s solution: “Carry it as I do. Take life as I take it. Look at it from my point of view. Interpret it upon my principles. Take my yoke and learn of me, and you will find it easy. For my yoke is easy, sits right upon the shoulders, and therefore my burden is light.”

… Henry Drummond (1851-1897), Pax Vobiscum

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