The Lifeblood of Christianity
Just how important is the death of Jesus to our faith? Well, how important is blood to your body?
“The importance of the passion and resurrection for the early church is evidenced by the relatively large amount of space the narrative takes in each of the Gospels and especially in Mark. "Out of Mark’s 661 verses, 128 are devoted to the passion and resurrection account, and a total of 242 are devoted to the last week (from the triumphal entry to the resurrection) of Jesus is life.
"The church obviously had more than a passing historical interest in Jesus’ death and resurrection. These events formed the basis of the church’s witness and worship—the lifeblood of early Christianity.”
- Walter W. Wessel & Mark L. Strauss (commenting on the Gospel of Mark in Matthew and Mark, The Expositor’s Bible Commentary, 2010, vol. 9, pg. 936-7; emphasis added)
No, I Don’t Know Everything, but Thanks for the Reminder
Some passages are easier than others to preach. They just are. But Mark 13 is not one of them.
Sometimes, pastors give the impression that they know it all. But this is not really a 'pastor thing,' so much as a 'people thing'—or then again, maybe I’m just a pastor deflecting the guilt. Regardless, nearly every Tuesday, the week before I preach, I get a fresh reminder that I don’t know everything.
The sermon may look clean, clear, and compelling on Sunday morning—only by the grace of God, of course—but it does not feel that way most Tuesday mornings. Most Tuesdays, it feels opaque, like a thick, tropical jungle.
I felt all of these sorts of things this week as we are jumping back into a series in the Gospel of Mark. My task, come Sunday, is to expound Mark 13:14-27 in which Jesus discuses the end times. One commentator notes that this chapter is “one of the most perplexing chapters in the Bible to understand, for readers and interpreters alike.” (James R. Edwards, The Gospel According to Mark, 383).
I believe it; when I translated the passage last week, I listed out some of the questions I had about each verse. This morning, when I typed them out, there were 62 questions. And the list will grow before it shrinks.
Better get to work.
But I do so with the confidence that in God’s Word there is life—something that truly is clear and compelling—and with the confidence that if I will only swing a machete in the jungle long enough, asking God to lead the way, he will show me something worth showing others. He always has before.
I Don’t Need a Boat, but Get Me a Boat
Here's a reason I keep reading the Bible. Again. And Again. And Again.
Jesus withdrew with the disciples to the sea, and a great crowd followed… And he [Jesus] told his disciples to have a boat ready for him because of the crowd, lest they crush him. (Mark 3:7, 9)
I take great comfort in the fact that Jesus does not need help doing anything—not mine or anyone else’s. Ever.
In the Old Testament, God says that if he was hungry—say, he wanted a sandwich or something—he wouldn’t ask for help (Psalm 50:12). When he created the world, the only “help” he got was within the Trinity. In the opening verses of Hebrews, the author notes that Jesus “upholds the universe by the word of his power.”
It doesn’t seem like God needs help.
In many ways, this is part of the litmus test of God-ness: If you need anything—food, water, sleep, praise, money, protection, love—then you are not God. If you don’t need, then you are God.
But then I read verses like Mark 3:9, and I take great comfort that Jesus wanted his disciples to help him. In this verse, because the crowd might actually have “crush[ed] him,” Jesus asks his disciples to get the escape boat ready.
Really? Why?
In Luke 4, a crowd wanted to toss Jesus over a cliff, and he just walked through them. I’ve never quite understand how that went down, but it happened. And if this crowd in Mark 3 got too lively, and Jesus needed to bail, then there was water right behind him. He could just walk away on that, right? Wouldn’t that save time and effort? Wouldn’t that even achieve the secondary purpose of showing his God-ness?
This is why, every day, I keep reading my Bible. I want to be tethered to it until I die.
In the Bible, I’m continually surprised—pleasantly surprised—by Jesus. I’ll learn one thing about him—say, he is God and doesn’t need anyone’s help—and then I learn something else—say, he desires the help and ministry of his friends.
I imagine it felt good for the disciples to be told to do something for Jesus, like get a boat ready. For most of those guys, it was in their wheelhouse. I bet they rushed off, their labors fueled with dignity—like EMTs with the sirens whirling: “Jesus needs a boat; let’s go, let’s go; come on, move it; the crowd could push him into the water.”
The tendency, in our human-ness, is to discount either God’s self-sufficiency or that our efforts matter to God. There is mystery, but somehow, these cohere. He is the God-man. And this gives my labors—our labors—for the kingdom meaning, value, and worth.
God doesn’t need my parenting, my preaching, my tithes and offerings, my “quiet time,” my evangelism. But he wants them.
Jesus needs another Christian to start another blog, like he needs a sandwich.
But if he asked me for one, I’d try to make him a good one—a toasted panini with double meat and feta cheese. I think he’d like that.
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