09 Jul SUNDAY, JULY 9, 2023
Let’s back up a bit. Chapter 11 began by saying, “When Jesus had finished instructing his twelve disciples, he went on from there to teach and preach in their cities.” Then when John was in prison, he sent his disciples to ask Jesus if he was the one to come or should they look for another.
Finding himself in prison, John began to wonder if he’d gotten other things wrong. Perhaps Jesus wasn’t who he thought. So Jesus defends his identity by saying, “Look at all I’ve done, for Pete’s sake.” Well, he probably didn’t say that bit at the end. “Who else could have fulfilled the words of Isaiah the prophet by making the blind see, the lame walk, cleansing lepers, and all? What more will it take; how many times in how many ways must I continue to try and prove my identity and that it was God who sent me to do all these things?” (Sigh.)
Today’s reading is part of a running dialogue with John’s disciples and others who heard what went on between them and Jesus. Jesus runs smack dab into resistance. Suddenly he’s aware that the crowds and religious leaders are rejecting both he and John, which means they’re rejecting that to which they’ve both devoted their lives and for which they will both soon die.
Many persons, not the least of whom are pastors, fear this type of rejection. They live on the verge of losing followers, of having their credibility undermined, their intentions doubted, their good works overlooked or attributed elsewhere.
Whoever we believe ourselves to be, whatever we think we may accomplish amounts to nothing if others cannot or will not come to our defense. They may not do so because they are unaware, have never seen, heard or witnessed such things themselves. Regardless, what becomes clear is that doubt fills the air like smoke coming down from Canada.
Jesus accuses the crowd of being like selfish, stubborn children in grown up bodies. I was talking to a restaurant server who told me that it’s pretty common nowadays for people to order food, take a bite, then feel entitled to sample something else at no charge. It doesn’t matter if they’re told beforehand what’s in the dish. They order it anyway. Red flags were raised as their friend said, “If you don’t like it, just send it back.” And lo and behold, they did.
The customers of John and Jesus are also never happy or satisfied. They’d entertained them to the best of their abilities by playing the flute, but they did not dance. They spoke plainly, demonstrated things clearly, invested much time and energy toward what people needed and said they desired. They sang a dirge, but the people did not mourn. Now, Jesus, in effect, was singing the chorus from Adam Lambert’s song, “Whataya Want from Me?”
He’s frustrated and merely expressing himself. It feels like he’s wasted resources on people who don’t appreciate his effort or sacrifice. Since they didn’t respond, those people are now worse than others once deemed the worst of all.
The situation reminds me of what it’s like to try and take your family on a special, expensive vacation. By all accounts, the trip warrants unusual excitement. Getting to go, period, is a privilege. But after making reservations, maxing out the credit card, taking time off, and exhausting yourself through efforts meant to please, you just can’t satisfy the crowd.
Little comments are heard before getting very far. You hear about their inconveniences and personal difficulties. People aren’t happy unless they get exactly what they want. The food where we stopped was disappointing. All along, Jesus is footing the bill. No one understands the stress involved in his role. Everything is offered freely, yet people cannot be satisfied. Seems coordination and timing are always issues.
Many of us understand what it’s like to deal with selfish spoiled people who act like children, even though they’re adults. If you spend time out in public, it doesn’t take long to witness these behaviors or fall into aspects of them ourselves.
I may say, “Excuse me, where’s the food I ordered?” But I think, “It better get here soon and be the way I want it.” And, even if we’re not the type to send food back or return items because of a no questions asked policy that ensures we’ll receive a full refund, how often do we express disappointment, mutter to ourselves that things aren’t worth it, or complain some other way? Jesus is, in effect, speaking to us.
He knows that acting like spoiled children is exhausting. Jesus is exhausted, too. At his wits end, he begins speaking to his heavenly father, saying, “I thank you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, that you have hidden these things from the so called, wise and understanding.” Who are they? Let’s see if the restaurant analogy still holds true.
Perhaps the best things remain hidden from those claiming the right to reject whatever’s offered, who frustrate the establishment owner and servers who are well aware of what’s being offered. They know that what they offer has been specially prepared and is of good quality. Jesus and the Father carefully select each products to be pleasing and of good value. They deserve appreciation and compensation. “I thank you that you have hidden these things from the wise and understanding and revealed them to little children. Yes, Father, for such was our gracious will.”
During VBS, I was reminded of how powerfully desire rules children. Sure, they have innate desires to be first and acquire the most, to choose what they want, and claim things as their own. But stronger still is their desire to do the right thing. They don’t only wish to conform out of peer pressure or because they’ve been rewarded for good behavior. Inside of them is the desire to be good. They want our approval; they want God’s approval.
All week long, I struggled to see the value of teaching them about the Israelites being slaves, the plagues in Moses’ time, about manna, Passover and crossing the river Jordan. It seemed weird to insert the story of Jesus dying on the cross after three days immersed in the OT.
But it all came together when I asked each small group on Thursday, “Would you rather be stubborn and not listen like pharaoh, the king of Egypt, say, ‘I don’t care,’ refuse to change and let everybody suffer? Or would you rather listen like Jesus and follow instructions given to you for your own good?”
Each child fell silent with intent. Every pair of eyes listened and every little head shook back and forth saying, “No,” as I described characteristics of pharaoh. Then every pair of eyes and every little chin bobbed up and down affirmatively as I described characteristics of Jesus.
There was no hesitation or copycat behavior going on. Each answered for themselves independently with surety of heart, calmness of conviction, and peace of mind. Two days earlier all of us had admitted to being similar to the Israelites, liking our daily routines and wanting what we want when we want it, even when there’s nothing wrong with what we are being offered instead.
Finally, Jesus makes it all about relationships. He says that all things have been handed to him by the Father. And that the only way anyone will know him or the Father is because he chooses to reveal himself and share that knowledge. And even if no one appreciates all that he does or offers, he’ll still be willing to partner with us. How incredible.
The ESV translation states that ‘Come to me’ is an invitation to trust Jesus personally, not merely to believe historical facts about him.” That’s what the children at VBS did. They showed a desire to trust Jesus personally, not only to believe stories about him.
Does that mean that each of them behaved differently or perfectly after saying they wished to be like Jesus? No. But at that moment, they took upon his yoke. They stepped into it rather than not. They let the yoke rest upon their shoulders and tried it on. As individuals, they felt sure enough to take a personal stand, so each of them did.
So, now it’s time for us to listen and hear Jesus say, “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” Listen to the word spoken at graveside committals, “We give you thanks,O Lord, for grace you have bestowed upon your servant who has finished their course in faith and now rests from labor. You are the strength of those who labor; the rest of the blessed dead.”
Jesus says, “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden,” you who are full of expectations, full of rights and claims to have exactly what you desire, who regularly dismiss what’s offered even though it is good and specially prepared for you. “And I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me.”
Will each and every one of you answer as the young children at VBS did: by nodding your head, saying, “Yes,” or somehow otherwise affirming your willingness to take upon his yoke? Perhaps look at (the stained glass window behind the altar or) the cross or close your eyes. Step into the moment, let the yoke rest upon your shoulders. Just try it on. See that Jesus is right beside you. Don’t do so out of peer pressure, but because like a young child, in the moment, you are unafraid to trust and believe that Jesus can be trusted and believed.
“Learn from me,” he says, “for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.” Wouldn’t it be amazing to find rest for our souls, the essence of our beings wrapped in human form? To find strength for our labors until we finish our course in faith? Wouldn’t that be amazing? “For my yoke is easy, and my burden light,” he says. Do we trust that it is? How will we know unless we try it on? Let’s all close our eyes and pray.
Dear Lord, for many of us it’s been a while since we fully trusted anyone to satisfy our longings. It’s been a while since we’ve rested from doing things or not felt as though outcomes depend upon us. It’s been a while since we listened like children and hung on your every word, taken a stand or tried on your yoke.
We do wish for strength to continue our labors. We do wish for rest from competition and striving. Give us what you gave the children at VBS: surety of heart, calmness of conviction, and peace of mind. Help us choose to listen and obey rather than not care about the suffering of others. Through your gift of grace, may we be your willing servants, accept all that you have done, and not reject the good things you offer. IYHNWP, Amen.