In Plain Sight

So far, we have seen that in the Gospels, some of those who came to Jesus walked right up to Him. Others were brought by family or friends. Today, we will look at a third group of persons who came to Jesus - those who were found by Him.

There were a number of men and women who were just going about their business who Jesus takes it upon Himself to encounter. There is, of course, the man with the deformed hand who was in the Temple on the Sabbath. It would be completely reasonable to expect a faithful man to be in the Temple on the Sabbath; that's where he ought to be. It's where Jesus, as a good Jew, ought to be. So their paths cross, Jesus encounters the man, the man finds himself come to Jesus, and he is healed.

There's another similar story about a woman who is swollen and doubled over, we can assume in modern terms by arthritis of some sort. Again, she has come to the Temple on the Sabbath, assumedly the way that she always had. She didn't know this was going to be a different kind of day for her, but here she is, and Jesus encounters her. She finds herself come to Jesus, and she is healed.

Jesus shores His boat on the far side of the sea, near a spot where there happens to be a cemetery, which just so happens to be the dwelling of a demon-possessed man that the townspeople have long since given up on ever seeing whole. The man is shouting, screaming, foaming at the mouth (at least, the demons are) when Jesus encounters them, and they find themselves come to Jesus. The demons are cast out; the man is healed.

Jesus and His disciples are traveling through the region of Samaria when He stops by a well to rest while His disciples go on ahead to find something for dinner. There just happens to be a woman at the well who has come so late in the day to avoid meeting anyone there. But Jesus encounters here anyway, tells her her life story, and, finding herself come to Jesus, she is healed.

Or what about Zacchaeus? This tax collector, too short to see in the thick of the crowd, climbs a tree to get a better look at Jesus as He is passing by. He hasn't figured that Jesus would even notice him, but He does. Jesus encounters him in the tree, calls out to him, invites Himself to the tax collector's home and, finding himself come to Jesus, Zacchaeus is transformed. 

Coming to Jesus is not always about taking the initiative to step forward, to come down the aisle, to seek Him out. Sometimes, we're just going about the regular things that we do in our day, the faithful little things that make a day a day, when all of a sudden, there's Jesus. He's right here. We've not necessarily come to Him, but He has encountered us and we find ourselves come without ever even going. 

It's beautiful, really. It's beautiful because it reminds us what a loving, personal, intimate God we have. He doesn't expect us to always be the seekers. He doesn't expect us to do all the work. He doesn't lay the burden on us to take control of our own destinies and determine the course of our lives. No, He's right there with us. As much as He longs for us to encounter Him, He has come to encounter us. He's got as much in this as we do, and it's not all up to us individually. It's us and Him together, the way that it's always been. 

It's always striking to read God's Word and discover just how many men and women in His story have had their lives dramatically changed not because they came to Him, but because He came to them. And He's still coming. And every time He does, it proves once again that what He has said is true,

I am with you always. 

Referral to a Specialist

A second group of persons in the Gospels who are seen coming to Jesus are those who do not come at all, but rather, are brought.

What this means is that someone in their lives has seen the power of Jesus, believes in the name of Christ, and will do whatever it takes to get their hurting loved one to Him, on the chance that Jesus might have mercy and heal them. 

Here, for example, we see the demon-possessed son of the man who cries, "Help my unbelief!" He actually brought his son twice for healing, first to the disciples and then to Jesus Himself. The disciples were unable to cast the demon out of the boy; Jesus was able. The son is brought because the man understands that this is the only chance he has to get his son back. And when the power of God as distributed to the disciples fails, he keeps pushing toward God Himself in Jesus. He won't take no for an answer; not when it comes to his son.

We see also the paralytic whose friends carried him on a mat to the place where Jesus was teaching. These friends ran right into a throng of persons and could reasonably go no further. So they did the unreasonable, hoisted their friend onto the ceiling of a stranger's home with them, cut a hole in the roof of a stranger's house, and lowered their friend, mat and all, right in front of Jesus's feet. They would not take no for an answer, not when it came to their friend. 

The army officer from Capernaum could not bring his servant to Jesus, so he sent another servant on his behalf to plead for the healing of the sick man. There was nothing that the world could do for him, but he would not take no for an answer. Not when the God of "yes" was passing by. 

In this category, too, I think we can put those who were introduced to or commended to Jesus by their loved ones. This includes Simon's mother, who had a fever when Jesus first arrived at her house with her sons. The disciples (assumedly Simon, Andrew, James, and John, who would have been most familiar with her) told Jesus about her fever, and He went into her room and healed her. 

There was also Jairus, whom the people commended to Jesus as a man who used his own money to fund their synagogues. This is a good guy, the people told Jesus. If anyone deserves Your help, it's him. They wanted Jesus to know that a "no" here would not be reasonable; this man deserves a resounding "yes!" 

So some of the men and women who come to Jesus in the Gospels do not really come, but they are brought. They are taken by their friends, their families, their communities, taken right up to Jesus by those who will not take no for an answer. And they had to be - they could not have come on their own.

We could not have expected a demon-possessed young boy to take it upon himself to go for healing; he probably could not even understand what was happening to him. We certainly couldn't ask the paralytic to push through the crowds on his own. We could not think that the soldier would pull himself off his death bed for a miles-long trek, even if it might be his only hope. Simon's mother would not have taken her own fever into the crowd; she's a mother, for crying out loud. She would not have wanted to risk spreading her germs. And Jairus certainly would not have put his humility on the line to boast in what he had done. That's not how it works.

That's the key to understanding how this translates to our current context. The persons in the Gospels who were brought to Jesus were those that could not have gone on their own, not those who would not have gone on their own. In other words, it's not that they won't; they can't. And that's where we come in.

We still have those among us who can't come to Jesus. We have those among us who won't come to Jesus, but there's not a lot we can do there. But for those who can't come to Jesus, it's our job to step up and bring them to Him. It's our job to hold their hand, bring them along, carry their mats, drop them through ceilings, fall at the feet of Christ on their behalf, and refuse to take no for an answer. It's our job, but it's also our privilege. We ought not to take that lightly. 

Let us bring those who cannot bring themselves, that they might encounter Christ Himself and know the Healer. 

Walk Right Up

When we look at the ways that persons came to Jesus in the Gospels, we can't help but notice that some of them just walked right up to Him. Interestingly, most of those who walked right up to Him...were women. (This is interesting because in that culture, this would have been certainly taboo.)

There was Mary, the sister of Martha, who took it upon herself to sit at His feet when He came to visit their home. We remember this story because Martha was very upset about this, slaving away in the kitchen as women tended to do, while her sister, Mary, was so bold as to just get herself a spot on the floor somewhere near the Teacher.

There was the sinful woman (who some say was also Mary, although we don't know that for sure) who busted into Simon's house when Jesus was there, walked right up to Him, and poured out expensive perfume all over Him. She used her hair as a rag and anointed, He says, His body for burial while pouring out her own troubled heart at the very same time. 

There was the woman who came begging for her child's healing, the woman who Jesus initially turned away because she was not a Hebrew/Jew/Israelite. She fell at His feet and refused to leave, saying that even the dogs under the table get fed scraps by the children. Jesus healed her daughter.

There was the woman with the issue of blood that came pushing her way, unclean but unannounced, through the crowds, just for the chance to touch the edge of His robe. In those times, someone ritually unclean would be required to yell out, "Unclean! Unclean!" whenever they were near others, so that their uncleanliness would not spread. But this woman did not want to draw attention to herself; she just wanted to come to Jesus. And when she did, He said her faith had healed her. 

All four of these women came, humbling themselves, straight to Jesus. They just walked right up like they belonged there in His presence. And, He says, they were right to do so; of course they belonged there. Martha was told that Mary had chosen the better thing; the men were told that the sinful woman's story would be told wherever His own story was; the woman who was content with scraps under the table went home to a daughter healed; the bleeding woman became clean in that very instant. All because they were bold, but humble.

One particular man was only bold. We call him the rich young ruler, and he, too, walked right up to Jesus. But he wasn't coming in order to humble himself; he was coming to bolster himself. He wanted the chance to show off his ritual faithfulness, to flash around his riches and be affirmed, very publicly, by Jesus so that he could become even more in the eyes of the world. He boldly demanded what he wanted from Jesus, certain that he had already fulfilled the greatest of all commands, and Jesus spoke boldly back to him. Then, we're told, he went away sad. 

The Pharisees and experts in Moses's Teachings also came boldly to Jesus. They were confident that in all of their knowledge and diligent faithfulness, they could trap Him into saying something wrong. They often challenged Him directly, making a big show of their boldness and trusting that one day, they'd get Him. They would be right and this so-called Teacher would finally be wrong. But Jesus responded to every single one of their inquiries and challenges with holiness and authenticity, such that these men always walked away from Him fuming. They were embarrassed, frustrated, and angry. 

These men came bold, but not humble, and they were put in their places by the Jesus that they encountered. 

So there is, we see, a pattern for coming straight to Jesus, for just walking right up and introducing yourself and presenting your needs before God. But walking right up to Jesus requires two things, either one of which is not enough on its own: boldness and humility. 

Without boldness, you'd never get close enough; without humility, you'd be seeking the wrong thing (your own glory, not His). 

Come to Jesus

The central aspect of our Christian lives is a coming to Jesus. It's not only essential for our own walks of faith, but it's what we assume is our duty in others' walks, as well - we're supposed to come to Jesus, and we're supposed to get others to come to Jesus. We even have an opportunity at the end of our church services for persons to do just that. If you need Jesus, please come. 

So coming to Jesus has become a thing. Or maybe the thing. Which raises the question - what does it even mean to come to Jesus? Or more importantly, what does it look like?

Because in our culture of coming to Jesus, we've got some pretty solid ideas about this question. We know exactly what it's supposed to look like to come to Jesus. 

If you're generally a good person, then coming to Jesus looks very natural. Good persons should just be drawn to Jesus. They should just walk right up and calmly, coolly, comfortably declare, "I want my good life to be even better." And then we celebrate and rejoice and know that a good one has been added among us.

If you're generally a bad person, then coming to Jesus is very dramatic. Bad persons should come to Jesus weeping and wailing, tearing their clothes, crawling on their knees in repentance. If you're a bad person and we all know it and you're not on your knees, we don't believe you. If you're not crying and confessing what a terrible jerk you are, we don't buy it. You're not coming to Jesus. You may be taking a few steps toward Him, but you're not bringing your heart. No, if you're a bad person, you'd better just cough out your heart and carry it in your hands. That's what coming to Jesus ought to look like. A bad person out to be saying, "I am a sinner, a wretched sinner, and I do not know how to do any other."

If you're generally a broken person, then coming to Jesus is very desperate. Broken persons walk the aisle with quiet, heavy tears streaming down their faces. They slump their way to the Cross, carrying this heavy load of all that's been required of them just to be human for the first part of their lives. They come slowly, dragging their feet and dragging their pasts and wiping tear-filled snot on their sleeves until they collapse into the chair in the front of the auditorium. Broken persons declare, "I want my hard life to be easier." And then we pat them on the back and tell them that it's going to be. It's going to be easier now. They've done a great thing for themselves. Jesus is here.

Interestingly enough, we've got some ideas about those who just should never come to Jesus at all, too. And they look an awful lot like these first three. 

If someone's coming to Jesus just because they want their good life to be better, just because they think it's going to be good to be blessed, then we don't think they should be coming to Jesus at all. Jesus is not an investment package, we tell them. He's not a cushion plan. If all you want from Jesus is His good things, don't come. 

If someone's coming to Jesus because they don't know how to stop sinning, then we don't think they should be coming to Jesus at all. You're a sinner, we tell them. Stop sinning, then come. If you can't do even the most basic things to make yourself a decent person, don't come.

If someone's coming to Jesus because they are broken and want Him to heal them, then we don't think they should be coming to Jesus at all. Jesus is not the latest over-the-counter fad to try. He's not the latest diet pill. If all you want from Jesus is His healing touch, don't come. 

So we've created all these rules by which the good, the bad, and the broken are supposed to come to Jesus, and then we've thrown on top of that even more restrictions and guidelines and judgments about whether they should even come at all. 

Pharisees! Hypocrites!

Thankfully, the Gospels have given us some incredible stories about good, bad, and broken men and women who came to Jesus. We have a lot to learn from these stories, and we'll take a look at a few of them this week. Stay tuned.

Prophets

Did you know that you're a prophet? It's true. We are a people who speak the Word of God, not only with our tongues, but with our lives, and Jesus Himself said that we should expect that the world would therefore treat us as prophets. 

And as false prophets, too, if that is what we turn out to be.

He raises this idea in the Sermon on the Mount, in part in its capture in the book of Matthew and in depth in its telling in the book of Luke. When Jesus is talking about who in the world is blessed (hint: it's you), He also talks about what we should expect from the world as believers. He says, quite plainly, Blessed are you when people hate you, avoid you, insult you, and slander you because you are committed to the Son of Man. ...That's the way their ancestors treated the prophets. (Luke 6:22-23)

And ain't that the truth? When we do anything distinctly, truly Christian, that's how this world responds. They call us foolish. They call us dumb. They call us hateful. They turn their backs, afraid that our weirdness might rub off on them a little bit or a little too much. They turn their backs, then tell us that we're the ones who are backward, and they talk about us as though we are the threat to the world. They try to silence us, shouting down our truth with their own take on it. All because we are committed to the Son of Man. It is the prophet's welcome, isn't it? Jesus said that it is.

But look what He says next: How horrible it will be for you when everyone says nice things about you. That's the way their ancestors treated the false prophets. (Luke 6:26)

Ouch.

That one hurts, mostly because we are living in a time where the welcome we have received as prophets pains our souls, and we're longing for a way to make the Gospel more palatable to the world. We want them to believe in joy and grace and mercy and "tolerance;" we want them to find a "love" that they can relate to. We're doing our best to present Jesus in such a way that the world will love Him, although quite often, this has led us to water down His Word in very important ways.

Just look at the Christians the world loves. Look at the preachers they're tuning into. The voices that the world wants to hear are the voices telling them how great Christianity is for them, how prosperous it will make them, how it will solve all of the problems that they have in their lives. This world speaks very well of "Christians" who give them a Jesus without giving them His heart, too. This world loves preachers who don't rest on truth. 

This world loves false prophets.

Jesus is not saying here that we should all go out and do our best to be hated by the world. He's not saying that we should labor to draw the disgust of the world. He's not saying we should try to cheese everyone off. That's not it at all. 

What Jesus is saying is that, like it or not, our lives are a prophecy. As the people of God, our lives declare something about Him. And we need to be mindful of what it is that we're saying, not just by our words, but also by our actions. We're all prophets. 

The question we have to ask ourselves is, are we true prophets? Or have we fallen off the road somewhere and become false prophets, our lives of so-called faith saying something about Jesus that He never intended to say?