We have just turned the corner in Matthew. Jesus’ live and ministry have built to this question to Peter, “Who do you say I am?” (Matt. 16:15) From this profession, Jesus is pointing to the cross--the cross where God’s mercy comes to life through death.
The parable of the unmerciful servant
The first servant owed 10,000 talents. Who could accumulate such a debt? Herod the Great had estimated annual revenue of 900 talents. Jesus used an amount well beyond most people’s imagination. The rabbis taught you were to forgive a particular offense up to three times. Here Peter more than doubled that amount. Yet Jesus blew legalistic counting out the window with this parable.
I have been trying to remember when was the last time I ask someone’s forgiveness? Not that I am living a life so holy that I don’t need to. To whom do I say “I’m sorry” the most”? spouse, parents, children, brined or co-worker.
What is my debt to the Master? Paul said he was chief of sinners (I Tim. 1:15) Yet that is how I often feel when I face the Master. Good thing he forgives me more than 3 or 7 times!!
Steve Louden
Saturday, January 27, 2007
Jockeying for Position
Matthew 18:1-20
“About that time the disciples came to Jesus and asked, ‘Which of us is greatest in the
The disciples didn’t get it. They imagined only an earthly kingdom and their own positions in it. It’s natural for us to think in terms of rank and status; we are performance-reward driven.
That spills over into my spiritual life as well. All too often, I’m right there with the disciples, wondering, Have I done enough? Have I offered enough hospitality, served on enough committees, and shared enough comfort? Have I given enough time, money, and energy? How do I measure up, Lord? I know I can’t earn my way into your heart, but still…
I have trouble “getting it” too.
Into the middle of this adult discussion, Jesus brings in a child. A child? What credits could this child possibly have in the balance sheet of good works? None. The child hasn’t performed, served, given, or accomplished anything. And yet, the child is accepted. The child is loved.
“Therefore, anyone who becomes as humble as this little child is the greatest in the
Humble. Remembering that Jesus, who had everything, humbled Himself for us. Humble. Turning from the very grown-up sin of jockeying for a position of glory among the saints.
Humble. Being content simply to be His child and to be near Him.
Lord Jesus, I have nothing to offer and yet You love me. I come as Your child, trusting, believing… I just want to be near You...
Friday, January 26, 2007
Like a Mustard Seed...
Friday, January 26th - Matthew 17:10-27
Much of this passage is difficult for me to understand. Perhaps others can add insight today, as well.
Jesus says, in verse 20, "You didn't have enough faith. I assure you, even if you had faith as small as a mustard seed you could say to this mountain, 'Move from here to there,' and it would move. Nothing would be impossible."
Faith is a challenging concept for most of us. At the same time, many of us feel like our faith must be at least as big as a mustard seed, and yet we struggle to remember any mountains moving at our command. We've heard TV preachers tell us that it's all up to us, that we can have what we want - from a promotion at work to physical healing - if we just have enough faith. The disciples seem to have believed they had what it took, too. They seemed to think that since they were the ones Jesus chose, they could cast out this nasty demon. But it didn't work.
The problem is, we think faith is supposed to work like the American dream - if you set your mind to it, you can achieve anything. But the power of our faith has nothing to do with how much faith we have. The power of our faith lies completely in the One in whom we believe.
Jesus has all the power we could ever need, and we know nothing is impossible for God. That's why it takes faith only the size of a tiny little mustard seed to move mountains. But what mountain is bigger than our own pride? I think Jesus is challenging us to see that the point of faith is to draw us closer to Him, to change us, and through those changes to impact the people around us. As we trust God with more of our lives, He changes us. As our focus turns away from ourselves, our control, and the world around us, as we focus on Jesus, we can walk on water like Peter and see mountains move. But this power may not be the strength to move Mt. Rainier on a whim or even to command our bodies to heal themselves. It may be the power to shatter a mountain of bitterness and discover the power to forgive or the strength to trust God to sustain us, even in the midst of desperate circumstances. The strength of our faith is revealed by our ability to trust God and serve Him faithfully regardless of life's circumstances, not by our ability to control the circumstances.
Much of this passage is difficult for me to understand. Perhaps others can add insight today, as well.
Jesus says, in verse 20, "You didn't have enough faith. I assure you, even if you had faith as small as a mustard seed you could say to this mountain, 'Move from here to there,' and it would move. Nothing would be impossible."
Faith is a challenging concept for most of us. At the same time, many of us feel like our faith must be at least as big as a mustard seed, and yet we struggle to remember any mountains moving at our command. We've heard TV preachers tell us that it's all up to us, that we can have what we want - from a promotion at work to physical healing - if we just have enough faith. The disciples seem to have believed they had what it took, too. They seemed to think that since they were the ones Jesus chose, they could cast out this nasty demon. But it didn't work.
The problem is, we think faith is supposed to work like the American dream - if you set your mind to it, you can achieve anything. But the power of our faith has nothing to do with how much faith we have. The power of our faith lies completely in the One in whom we believe.
Jesus has all the power we could ever need, and we know nothing is impossible for God. That's why it takes faith only the size of a tiny little mustard seed to move mountains. But what mountain is bigger than our own pride? I think Jesus is challenging us to see that the point of faith is to draw us closer to Him, to change us, and through those changes to impact the people around us. As we trust God with more of our lives, He changes us. As our focus turns away from ourselves, our control, and the world around us, as we focus on Jesus, we can walk on water like Peter and see mountains move. But this power may not be the strength to move Mt. Rainier on a whim or even to command our bodies to heal themselves. It may be the power to shatter a mountain of bitterness and discover the power to forgive or the strength to trust God to sustain us, even in the midst of desperate circumstances. The strength of our faith is revealed by our ability to trust God and serve Him faithfully regardless of life's circumstances, not by our ability to control the circumstances.
Thursday, January 25, 2007
"Who Do You Say I Am?"
Thursday, January 25 - Matthew 16:13-17:9
Jesus chose Peter to follow Him. And Jesus knew what he was doing.
Jesus chose us to follow Him. And Jesus knew what he was doing.
I'm a lot like Peter. Peter is so . . . what? Impetuous? Vulnerable?
Bold? Loyal? Cautious? Insightful? Double-minded? Courageous? Trusting?
Fearful? . . . all of these, and full of questions, too.
Recall how he left his nets at once to follow Jesus. Recall how, in the
midst of a storm, Peter saw Jesus walking toward him across the waves
and, suddenly bold, called out, "Master, if it's really you, call me to
come to you on the water."
Today, we learn (17:1-9) how Peter and his two companions have a
glimpse of the glorified Son of God. This worship experience is almost
too overwhelming for him to bear. Yet, we know he will some day deny
knowing his Master. And oh so much more is still to come.
For now, I ponder the sudden change in Peter found in chapter 16. At
one moment, he makes the profound declaration that Jesus is indeed the
promised Messiah, the Son of the living God. The next moment, Peter
steadfastly refuses to believe that Messiah's role is to die, to take
upon himself the wrath of God toward sin. In denying this truth, Peter
becomes a temptation to Jesus. Is it possible that we can love a friend
too much, so that we become "a dangerous trap"? Even when that friend
is Jesus?
Part of the answer lies in the words of Jesus after Peter's insightful
reply to the question, "Who do you say I am?" For one blessed moment,
Peter was granted a revelation from God the Father - and blurted out
the confession on which the church of Christ is built. But in his own
human frailty, he was not yet ready to accept the full meaning of what
salvation would necessitate. It's so easy, isn't it, to see things
"merely from a human point of view, not from God's." It seems that when
our wisdom is merely human, and not inspired by the Spirit of God, we
may be vulnerable to Satan's twisting of the truth. This is especially
true when we come with our own agenda.
Jesus, I want to trust that your agenda is best. I want to be working
for you and not against you. Help me give up my desire to be in
control. Be Thou my Wisdom and Thou my true Word; I ever with Thee and
Thou with me, Lord . . . Heart of my own heart, whatever befall, Still
be my Vision, O Ruler of all.
Deetje Wildes
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
Do I Judge Too Quickly?
It is reassuring to me in knowing that Jesus is so sensitive to the physical needs of people…and not only to their spiritual needs.
It is hard not to “judge” those people who saw first-hand these outstanding miracles performed by Jesus – and then still often failed to believe in Him.
I wonder however, if I might have been like that…back then?
And for that matter, am I sort of like that…even now?
v. 5f This reminds me again that too often I soon forget how wonderfully the Lord has met my needs in the past. And I start to “worry again”.
“Lord, thank You. Thank You so much! Thank You so much for Your Love, Your Patience, Your Goodness, Your Provision! I’ll try to remember better next time when I face difficult situations.”
Donald E. Pardun
Monday, January 22, 2007
"You wear me out, but I love you anyway."
Matthew 14:13-36
One of our three-year-old's favorite books is Olivia by Ian Falconer. Olivia is a picture book about an energetic, imaginative, and precocious little pig who gets into her mother's lipstick, refuses to take a nap, and attempts to recreate a Jackson Pollock painting on the walls of her house (which results in getting a time out from her mother). At the end of an exhausting day, Olivia's mother tucks her into bed saying "You know, you really wear me out. But I love you anyway." (To which Olivia responds "I love you anyway, too.") For some reason, Olivia came to mind when I was reading today's passage.
Jesus has just learned of the death of John the Baptist (according to the gospel of Luke, John was also a relative of Jesus) and leaves by boat, heading to a remote area to be alone, presumably to mourn (although the text does not say). But the crowds learn where he is headed and actually get there before he arrives. Instead of getting time by himself, more than 5,000 people show up. Though he wishes to be alone, Jesus takes compassion on them, heals their sick, and then performs another amazing miracle to make sure they are all well fed.
Then Jesus sends all the people home and sends his disciples back across the lake so that he can go up into the hills by himself to pray. Alone. But a storm comes up and in the middle of the night, Jesus walks out across the waves to calm the storm and presumably rescue his disciples from drowning. Then, arriving on the other side of the lake, Jesus is recognized, and suddenly more people arrive to be healed.
Wherever Jesus goes, he is approached by people who present him with their needs, whether it's healing, or making supper for more than 5,000 people, or taking control of the weather itself to keep a boat from capsizing. And throughout this passage I keep thinking that Jesus just can't seem to get a moment to himself.
I read this section yesterday, a day that I desperately wanted to go off by myself, alone somewhere, having been completely worn out by our two children. I am not just "Dad," I am "Dad the bringer of water in the middle of the night," usually about two minutes after I've finally fallen asleep. I am "Dad the jungle gym" whose job it is to not complain while two kids climb around on my aching back. And even while I was trying to write this blog entry, I stopped to clean up spilled water, to get down some construction paper so the three-year-old could practice cutting with her new pair of scissors, to make dinner for them, to change a diaper, to intervene in some sibling rivalry, to read "just one more book" (about a dozen more times), and several other minor crises. The interruptions, it seems, are a constant for those of us with young children. But we love them anyway.
We also have the needs of other family members to consider, and we have needs in the workplace. No wonder when organizations ask for volunteers we feel like we've already reached the limit.
But then I'm reminded of how Jesus responded to the needy who followed him everywhere. Verse 14 tells us that even though he was hoping to go off by himself somewhere, he had compassion on the people. This is something I must remember. When I selfishly place my own needs above the needs of others, when I fail to respond to others' needs with compassion, I am not being Christ-like.
I wonder if Jesus ever gets worn out by all of us with our endless needs. I try to tell myself that he was divine, and therefore he could probably handle a little more stress. But Jesus was also human and must have experienced the physical exhaustion that surely accompanied the demands placed on him by the crowds. But he loved them anyway.
Actually, there probably shouldn't be any "but" or "anyway" in that statement. We continually go to Jesus with our needs, and he loves us. Period.
Drew Clausen
One of our three-year-old's favorite books is Olivia by Ian Falconer. Olivia is a picture book about an energetic, imaginative, and precocious little pig who gets into her mother's lipstick, refuses to take a nap, and attempts to recreate a Jackson Pollock painting on the walls of her house (which results in getting a time out from her mother). At the end of an exhausting day, Olivia's mother tucks her into bed saying "You know, you really wear me out. But I love you anyway." (To which Olivia responds "I love you anyway, too.") For some reason, Olivia came to mind when I was reading today's passage.
Jesus has just learned of the death of John the Baptist (according to the gospel of Luke, John was also a relative of Jesus) and leaves by boat, heading to a remote area to be alone, presumably to mourn (although the text does not say). But the crowds learn where he is headed and actually get there before he arrives. Instead of getting time by himself, more than 5,000 people show up. Though he wishes to be alone, Jesus takes compassion on them, heals their sick, and then performs another amazing miracle to make sure they are all well fed.
Then Jesus sends all the people home and sends his disciples back across the lake so that he can go up into the hills by himself to pray. Alone. But a storm comes up and in the middle of the night, Jesus walks out across the waves to calm the storm and presumably rescue his disciples from drowning. Then, arriving on the other side of the lake, Jesus is recognized, and suddenly more people arrive to be healed.
Wherever Jesus goes, he is approached by people who present him with their needs, whether it's healing, or making supper for more than 5,000 people, or taking control of the weather itself to keep a boat from capsizing. And throughout this passage I keep thinking that Jesus just can't seem to get a moment to himself.
I read this section yesterday, a day that I desperately wanted to go off by myself, alone somewhere, having been completely worn out by our two children. I am not just "Dad," I am "Dad the bringer of water in the middle of the night," usually about two minutes after I've finally fallen asleep. I am "Dad the jungle gym" whose job it is to not complain while two kids climb around on my aching back. And even while I was trying to write this blog entry, I stopped to clean up spilled water, to get down some construction paper so the three-year-old could practice cutting with her new pair of scissors, to make dinner for them, to change a diaper, to intervene in some sibling rivalry, to read "just one more book" (about a dozen more times), and several other minor crises. The interruptions, it seems, are a constant for those of us with young children. But we love them anyway.
We also have the needs of other family members to consider, and we have needs in the workplace. No wonder when organizations ask for volunteers we feel like we've already reached the limit.
But then I'm reminded of how Jesus responded to the needy who followed him everywhere. Verse 14 tells us that even though he was hoping to go off by himself somewhere, he had compassion on the people. This is something I must remember. When I selfishly place my own needs above the needs of others, when I fail to respond to others' needs with compassion, I am not being Christ-like.
I wonder if Jesus ever gets worn out by all of us with our endless needs. I try to tell myself that he was divine, and therefore he could probably handle a little more stress. But Jesus was also human and must have experienced the physical exhaustion that surely accompanied the demands placed on him by the crowds. But he loved them anyway.
Actually, there probably shouldn't be any "but" or "anyway" in that statement. We continually go to Jesus with our needs, and he loves us. Period.
Drew Clausen
Sunday, January 21, 2007
Sunday - Matt 13:47-14:12
How can Jesus be both God and human? It's a question that most of us have had to sort through at some point and this chapter brings more truth to add. The people from Nazareth, the hometown of Jesus, saw Him as only human. They knew He was the son of a carpenter. They knew His family memebers. Some, we might assume, knew Him as a child playing, growing, and being friends with their kids. It was impossible for some of them to make the transition from His being a man to also being their Savior. They only saw one side of who Jesus really was and to see only one side is to miss it all.
It strikes me how both are so important. In being a man Jesus experienced what we do each day. He faced temptations and hardship, but did not sin (Heb 4:14-16). There had to be a sacrifice for sin. Someone who could come and face the law with a perfect life. That being said, Jesus is also God. He and the Father are one.
How gracious our Father was to send us a Savior that was both God and man. Jesus, you gave your life that we might live.
It strikes me how both are so important. In being a man Jesus experienced what we do each day. He faced temptations and hardship, but did not sin (Heb 4:14-16). There had to be a sacrifice for sin. Someone who could come and face the law with a perfect life. That being said, Jesus is also God. He and the Father are one.
How gracious our Father was to send us a Savior that was both God and man. Jesus, you gave your life that we might live.
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