As a general rule, it’s a bad idea to reject Jesus if you’re committed to a life of pursuing Him, His presence and His kingdom.
I was reflecting on Luke 10 this morning and found myself wrestling with the mounting frustrations that I have wrestled with for some time now. The chapter begins with Jesus sending 72 of His disciples out into the world as laborers in His harvest. They are sent out to do a great work, but are to go vulnerably as “lambs amongst wolves,” choosing to go completely unequipped in the natural. They are not even to have shoes (v.4) despite being called to walk from settlement to settlement. They do no work, yet are told that the laborer deserves his wages. What they do is to heal the people of the towns they visit–but what human (apart from the Lord himself) could miraculously heal in and of themselves?
The laborers are sent, but are not to labor.
The 72 come back rejoicing at what they get to see God do: heal, save, deliver. Jesus tells them not to rejoice that they saw God move, but to rejoice that God knows them and has written their names in the book of life. And Jesus emphasizes the knowing: nobody knows the Son except the Father, and nobody knows the Father except the Son and those whom the Son reveals the Father to.
Jesus tells the disciples how blessed they are that they get to witness the revealing of the kingdom, and of the Father’s heart. Immediately, someone tests Jesus by asking what needs to be done to enter such blessedness. The answer is twofold: to love the Lord with all one’s heart, and to love one’s neighbor.
And then we end with a story of two women, Martha and Mary. Martha embodies what it means to love the Lord and love one’s neighbor, through the labor of love. And Jesus says: Mary has chosen the better part than you. Mary, who does not labor, but sits at Jesus’ feet to know Him and learn His word, has succeeded where Martha has fallen short: in loving God and loving neighbor. (Is it wrong of me to see parallels with the sacrifice of Cain and Abel?)
I am frustrated, perhaps even angry, when I consider this passage today. I want to do. I am disappointed in myself that I have yet to do anything. I have committed the bulk of my life to loving God and loving neighbor, and am woefully aware of how desperately I fall short. I am aware that this is where my wife and some of my friends will make a face and say, “I, I, I … do you hear yourself right now?”
But I am hurt and angry that God does not allow me to do, instead calling me to be still and know, and be known. Yes, I am angry.
This morning, I was convicted by a post on social media. The reader was reminded that Judas was given control of the money, and Israel received the king (Saul) that they desired. God sometimes gives us the desire of our hearts, even when it is counter to the desire of His heart. Then He will allow us to crash and burn, and hurt those around us, simply to reveal us. And now I am afraid that God will allow me to do, to build, to be a missionary in the classic sense, simply to expose me.
I know the answer, and yet I am still angry. The Lord is silent. He gazes at me, and His gaze convicts me with its implication: “Will you reject me too, my friend?”
“The one who listens to you listens to Me, and the one who rejects you rejects Me; but the one who rejects Me rejects the One who sent Me.” (Luke 10:16)
Chris
Not By Sight 