Messages from the Body

Here is a sampling of some of the messages that have made a special impact at CCiPH, and that have been transcribed or written in manuscript.

Most weeks in our equipping assembly, at least one man has been asked to prepare a message that will build up believers. Often, the message is taken from the liturgical Gospel reading of the day, or it is a life message that God has been working into the fabric of that man. It is included here to build you up.

Keep Walking

Message from Ben Gregory on October 19, 2003

Mark 10:32-45

One of the hardest things when two lovebirds get married and begin to live together is the process of discovering each partner’s new role.  Each person has been living alone and doing everything, or with family in a parent/child relationship, or with a roommate, however that’s worked out, or maybe in a previous marriage where they’ve already been through all of this.  This can make for a lot of tension.  When Ruthie and I got married we spent the better part of our first year arguing over this stuff.  Would I react to things the way her dad did?  Who would take care of paying the bills?  Whose job was it to cut the grass?  Growing up my mom did that, so it never occurred to me that as a married guy it might be my job.  Plus I hate it.  Eight years later we seem to have that one settled, though I’m probably happier with the solution than she is.  (We did buy her a very nice mower.)  And we’re finding that an accurate understanding of our role identities makes life better.

Let’s take a look at Mark, chapter ten.  We’ll start in verse 32.  There’s a crowd of people walking with Jesus.  We don’t know how many, but Mark makes it clear that not only are the twelve there, but there are more disciples along as well.  They’re on their way to Jerusalem where Jesus will die.  And Mark doesn’t give us any details, but there’s a lot of anxiety among the crowd.  It’s easy to imagine the rumors that might have been circulating as they make their way to Jerusalem.  Jesus has been dropping hints like the one that Mark records in chapter nine:  “’The Son of Man is going to be betrayed into the hands of men.  They will kill him, and after three days he will rise.’  But they did not understand what he meant and were afraid to ask him about it.”  (Mk 9:31a-32)

Maybe they should have asked.  Maybe if their fears hadn’t paralyzed them they wouldn’t still have them.  Or maybe, if they had asked, Jesus would have explained the whole terrifying thing to them and it would have been worse.  I doubt it.  Not knowing is awful.  I hate long, drawn-out bad news.  I panic.  My mind races ahead of whoever is talking and I conjure circumstances that are almost without exception worse than what I’m actually being told.  Ruthie has standing instructions that when the day comes that she has bad news to tell me—when dad finally has his heart attack, when Dale gets shot at work, when hannaH and the baby are in one of those accidents you hear about on the radio—she’s not supposed to beat around the bush with a lot of “you’d better sit down” and “the cat’s on the roof.”  At any rate, people are scared as this crowd follows Jesus.  (There’s something to be said for following even when you’re scared.)

Jesus takes the twelve aside like he has so many times and gives it to them—just comes out with it—as straight as he possibly could.  “We are going to Jerusalem,” he said, “and the Son of Man will be betrayed to the chief priests and teachers of the law.  They will condemn him to death and will hand him over to the Gentiles, who will mock him and spit on him, flog him and kill him.  Three day’s later he will rise.”  Is that vague?  Nebulous?  Cryptic?  No.  Can you see the looks on their faces as they listen?  Are they stunned?  Or is it beginning to make sense?  I can see Peter’s mouth hanging open because he wants to say something—he’s used to saying something—but for once he can’t find the words.  What was Judas thinking?  I don’t believe he’d made his plans yet to betray Jesus.  I don’t think he has any idea how integral a part he’s going to play in what Jesus just told them.  I’m guessing he’s as appalled as the rest of them.  (There’s a lesson there somewhere.)

Do you think there was a big discussion when Jesus was finished?  Did he open up the floor for question time?  Did they ask him their questions, or were they still too scared to ask?  Did they talk about it among themselves as they continued on, or did they just walk on in silence?  Well, people are different, so probably some of each—Mark doesn’t say.  What would you have done?

The next thing that Mark does show us is James and John coming to Jesus with a question.  These two are among Jesus’ favorite disciples—he’s always including them in the most special stuff—but today they’re not up front walking with him.  They’re back a little, talking to each other, cooking something up.  So they approach Jesus and say, “Teacher, we want you to do for us whatever we ask,” (which is frequently what I want too).  When Jesus hears this, what’s he thinking?  Is he amused?  Hopeful?  Encouraged that they’ve considered what he’s just told them and are beginning to get it?  Preoccupied and tired of answering questions?  Regardless, he takes the time to listen.  I’m hesitant to read verse 36 out loud because I’m not sure what tone of voice to give him, but you can look at it.

And in verse 37 they say, “Let one of us sit at your right and the other at your left in your glory.”  Whether they don’t believe that he’s really going to die, or they understand that death won’t be the end, this is what they’re asking for.  And Jesus gives them more than a straight answer, and says, “You don’t know what you’re talking about.  Can you do what I have to do?”  Which isn’t what they thought they were asking for.  Why’d he say that?  I don’t know.  But the request they’re making indicates a misunderstanding of what’s going on, not just at the moment in first century Palestine, but in the history of God’s relating to humanity.  And Jesus fills them in on a couple little pieces of truth that may be worth paying attention to.  Their time will come when it’s time.  There is a role for these two, but it won’t come before it’s time and it won’t come through their pursuing it and trying to bring it about.  And it won’t be what they’re asking for. 

Lots of the stress in my life comes from my doing what James and John are doing here.  Wanting to orchestrate reality—especially the lives of the people around me.  Focusing on what Tasha calls, “the small perimeter of me.”  Jesus is on his way into the city where he will live out the single most important story ever told and bring about the reconciliation of all things, whether things on earth or things in heaven, by making peace through his blood, shed on the cross and they’re concerned with how they’ll come out looking on the other side.  Their focus is on themselves, and so is mine when, for example, I obsess about my behavior and what I think it has to do with my identity in Christ.  This is the wrong focus.  There seems to be a direct correlation between anxiety and my understanding of my role in the world (especially as it relates to God and his).

The questioning here isn’t wrong.  Jesus doesn’t seem bothered or upset, and I don’t believe there’s a magical level of faith where you no longer have any more questions.  It’s not that the questioning is wrong, but that the best thing they could do here is just follow.  Keep walking.  Walk on.  All the details, all the things they’re concerned about, will be made clear within a few days.  There will be two people at Jesus’ left and right before too long.  But James and John have a different road to travel, and it’s time to just keep walking.