New Insights on Grace and Discipleship, and on Grace and Community

Amazing Grace—it is a song and a concept I have known since childhood and which I experienced in a more profound way in my mid-20’s. Yet, I now recognize that God’s grace is vastly richer and deeper than I knew then. My understanding of grace is the most significant change in my theological thinking in the last ten years.

Salvation by grace not works, was perhaps the most significant belief in the Christianity I grew up in. Our experience of salvation rested on that truth and our evangelism focused on it. We conceived of grace as a gift with no strings attached. Therefore, we avoided any talk of human action related to the gift of salvation. In my youth I perceived that it was clarity on the truth that salvation was by grace and not by works that distinguished us from other streams of Christianity. From my bounded-group perspective, those who did not state this clearly enough were not truly Christians. And, people who thought they were going to heaven because they were good were definitely not Christians.

It is not that I now think salvation is by works not grace. I have not reversed my thinking. What I thought about grace was not fundamentally wrong. Rather, it is that I have come to see that the combination of individualism and a modern western concept of grace produced a narrow and watered down understanding of grace. When Paul wrote of God’s grace, he had in mind something deeper, richer, more communal, and more integrated with discipleship.

 Paul’s Concept of God’s Grace Compared to Others in the First Century

In 2016 I taught a course on Galatians at the Mennonite seminary in Bogota Colombia. When I was not teaching, preparing for class, or exploring Bogota with students, I read a book that had weighed down my suitcase: Paul and The Gift by John M. G. Barclay (2015). I had brought it along thinking I might garner an a few insights or quotes for the course. But what I read was so transformational I could not simply take Barclay’s insights and just sprinkle them as seasoning into my already prepared class. The paradigm change it provoked required more fundamental adjustments to my teaching of Galatians. So, I read, pondered and waited until my next Galatians course and my work on a commentary in English to integrate this new understanding of grace into my interpretation of Galatians.

Barclay explores in detail common understandings of grace, or gift,  in Paul’s time—both in Gentile and Jewish writings (gift and grace are the same word in Greek). The various perspectives had two things in common. First, gifts were given only to worthy recipients. In a society absorbed in status seeking and honor accrual, one gave gifts discriminately as a way of establishing or strengthening relationships and gaining honor. For instance, an invitation to a dinner was a gift,  grace; the attendees did not pay for the meal. But the host would only invite people who would improve their reputation. Low status people at the table would reflect poorly on the host, but having a high-status person accept their invitation would add to the host’s status. A worthy person could reciprocate and return the favor through a meal invitation or some other gift that would further add to the host’s honor. This points to the second thing that all understandings of grace had in common—a response was always expected. In Paul’s time, and still in many cultures today, the expectation is that if you receive a gift, you will give a gift in response. Reciprocity is necessary for continuing the relationship.

What was radical about the gift from God, the grace, that Paul proclaimed? How did it differ from other common understandings of grace at that time, including, for instance, the other missionaries he confronts in his letter to the Galatians? Barclay maintains that the distinction is in the first point above, worthiness, not the second, reciprocity. For people at that time, the shockingly different thing about the grace Paul proclaimed is that God does not limit the gracious gift to fitting recipients. God gives without regard to people’s social, gender, religious, or ethnic worth.

(For a fuller explanation of Barclay’s argument see pages 58-64 of my book, Freedom from Religiosity and Judgmentalism: Studies in Paul’s Letter to the Galatians, his shorter book, Paul and the Power of Grace 2020, or the original, Paul and the Gift  2015.)

 Compared to my Previous Concept of Grace, What is New about the New Understanding?

The view of grace I grew up with and held until I read Barclay’s book was correct to emphasize that we are incapable of making ourselves worthy of salvation through human effort. But we got off track by seeking to accentuate and preserve the radicalness of God’s grace by stressing the lack of reciprocity—no response is expected. We created a firewall between talk of grace and any talk of human actions. In contrast, Paul, accepted reciprocity. Like others of that time, he assumed that of course there were expectations of a response. Paul would applaud our emphasis that nothing we can do makes us worthy of God’s gift of salvation; but our avoidance of any linking of grace and human actions would puzzle Paul.  

 Key Questions

Paul’s first century audience would have assumed that God’s gift, like any gift, included an expectation of reciprocity. How might the Western, and relatively new, view that pure grace means no strings attached undermine or weaken the connection between salvation and discipleship?

Paul’s first century audience would have seen, and been shocked by, the new communal configurations that flowed from God’s grace including all regardless of social status. How might the combination of individualism and a focus on grace without reciprocity undermine or weaken the connection between salvation and community?

These questions arose from my first reading of Barclay. The potential impact of this different view of grace excited me. Although, I think I have done well at communicating Barclay’s argument in class and in my book, I have not made much movement beyond that. Now I am asking: How do we move from a conversation about the concept itself, to utilizing the concept in teaching, preaching, evangelism, discipleship?

 Answering these Three Questions Through the Lens of 2 Corinthians 8:1-15

An essay by Barclay himself stimulated further thought on the first two questions, and helped me begin to answer the third question. I am eager to share some of his insights and my reflections with you. His essay, “Manna and the Circulation of Grace” studies 2 Corinthians 8:1-15.[1]

 And now, brothers and sisters, we want you to know about the grace that God has given the Macedonian churches. 2 In the midst of a very severe trial, their overflowing joy and their extreme poverty welled up in rich generosity. 3 For I testify that they gave as much as they were able, and even beyond their ability. Entirely on their own, 4 they urgently pleaded with us for the privilege of sharing in this service to the Lord’s people. 5 And they exceeded our expectations: They gave themselves first of all to the Lord, and then by the will of God also to us. 6 So we urged Titus, just as he had earlier made a beginning, to bring also to completion this act of grace on your part. 7 But since you excel in everything—in faith, in speech, in knowledge, in complete earnestness and in the love we have kindled in you—see that you also excel in this grace of giving.

8 I am not commanding you, but I want to test the sincerity of your love by comparing it with the earnestness of others. 9 For you know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though he was rich, yet for your sake he became poor, so that you through his poverty might become rich. . .

13 Our desire is not that others might be relieved while you are hard pressed, but that there might be equality. 14 At the present time your plenty will supply what they need, so that in turn their plenty will supply what you need. The goal is equality, 15 as it is written: “The one who gathered much did not have too much, and the one who gathered little did not have too little” (NIV).

 As part of his exhortation to the Corinthian Christians to contribute toward the needs of Christians in Jerusalem, Paul writes about the Macedonian churches’ giving. At one level the text displays the societal norm that when you receive a gift you give something in return. The Macedonians received from God and they reciprocated. More significant are the ways that what Paul writes differs from first century societal practices.

 How Paul’s Description of Grace and Giving Differs from Norms of that Time

 -          The way of reciprocating for the grace/gift received from God is not giving something to God but paying it forward to others.

-          This is modeled and enabled by Jesus Christ (vs. 9). His model undermines and redefines honor and perspectives on how to gaining status. Jesus gave to others instead of grasping for status and honor.

-          Part of the richness received through Jesus Christ is this practice of giving to others. In an ironic way, an aspect of the grace received from God is the gift of giving to others rather than focusing on accumulating societal points through gifts from others. (Note how Paul begins his description of the Macedonians’ giving by labeling it as grace given them by God [vs. 1].

-          A fundamental factor relaxing the drive to grasp for status is that in contrast to societal practices, God does not measure the worth of the recipient before giving. As Barclay observes, “Since the surplus thus passed on does not arise out of any competitive grasping for advantage (but merely out of God’s equal generosity to all) it is possible that it can circulate in ways that produce neither competition nor status inequality” (422) (as in vs. 13-15).

-          There is reciprocity (having received, give) yet what is described in the above observations replaces a calculus of debt and obligation with a system of mutual sharing of surplus. Note that Paul does not use any language of direct reciprocity between the recipient and the giver, or between the client and the patron. He does not say, “since you received blessings from Jerusalem you should give them something.”

-          “Rather than one side being permanently the patron, and the other the ever-grateful client, each is patron to the other, or—perhaps better—each is equally the client of a surplus-providing patron (God), who gives, however, not in order to receive back but in order that grace be given on” (423).

“This principle of reciprocity, then, has the capacity to complicate power relations, and to work against the emergence of one-side systems of gift, patronage, or authority. . . This is not simply a normal honor hierarchy inverted; it is not that the honorable should be demeaned and the insignificant exalted, but something far more complex, and perhaps far more creative, in which community members continually invent ways to honor each other” (424-25) (see Phil. 2:3-4; Rom 12:10). Take a moment and imagine what it would be like to belong to a group where each member is not focused on being on top but rather in looking for ways to give to others and honor others. Imagine the gifts all will receive if all are focused on giving!

 Implications for Us Today

 Barclay’s interpretation of this passage aids in shifting from a concept of grace focused on the individual to one that includes a communal element. It also highlights that the radicalness of God’s grace is in its being given regardless of a person’s status or worth rather than in its disconnection from any human action. Previously the image I had of grace was more like a golden ticket given to an undeserving individual, or a guilty person given a pardon. These images do capture an element of God’s grace, but they leave out so much. They mislead through leading us to focus on an isolated individual—no one else is in the image. And, they mislead through lacking any sense of response. When the images are combined with modern western definitions of grace, any connection with human action is seen as a contaminant. It is no longer grace.

Barclay’s work has led me to think of an alternative image we might use in evangelism or explaining grace. We could invite people to imagine a person observing a group eating together. It is a potluck and the participants brought great food. The conversation is rich; people treat each other with kindness; their listening and their speaking overflows with love and respect. The person longs to have a seat at the table but they know they are not worthy. They do not belong. We might ask the listeners to list possible reasons the person might not feel worthy. We could then bridge to talking about God’s grace and affirm that the person truly is not worthy to join those sitting together at God’s family table. None of us can gain a seat through their own merit. Yet through what Jesus Christ has done we are all offered a seat at the table. It is grace, a gift! We might then ask them. “How might you respond to God for giving you an undeserved seat at the table?” We could acknowledge that there are a variety of appropriate responses and then state that what God most desires is that the beautiful table fellowship continue. They can help that happen by giving to others what they will receive at the table—great food and loving kindness.

 I invite you to reflect on ways a person’s concept of the Christian life would differ if this table image, rather than the golden ticket or get-out-jail-free card images, introduced them to the idea of salvation through grace. What are ways it connects salvation to community and discipleship that the other images do not?

Two caveats: First, this image, like any image, does not explain all. Other images and explanations are needed—for instance, how does Jesus provide the seat at the table and how does the Holy Spirit enable and empower the lovingkindness at the table. Yet, to simply say “all metaphors limp,” does not free us to use any image. There are consequences to using the golden ticket metaphor versus the table fellowship metaphor. Second, in case I have not made this clear: to embrace Barclay’s argument that Paul’s understanding of grace included a sense of human action as response does not mean I have shifted my definition of religion that contrasts human religiosity rooted in human action with biblical revelation/faith rooted in God’s action (see Centered-Set Church, 86-87 or Religious No More, 38-39). Even with this new understanding of grace, I still affirm that the initiative is God’s. We do not earn our salvation. We do not gain a gift from God through actions. It is not works first. This new deeper understanding of grace does, however, tear down the fire wall separating any discussion of human action related to salvation and opens up riches for both individual and community life as part of the flow of love that God’s initiative invites.

 My desire, for me and you, is that this understanding of grace moves from conceptual explanation to what Paul did in 2 Corinthians 8—integration with issues of discipleship and daily life. I pray the image I offer is one small step. Please share with me other steps we can take.

 Having received God’s radical grace let us share it in radical and profound ways with others.

[1] John M. G. Barclay, “Manna and the Circulation of Grace: A Study of 2 Corinthians 8:1-15,” in The Word Leaps the Gap: Essays on Scripture and Theology in Honor of Richard B. Hays, eds. J. Ross Wagner, C. Kavin Rowe, and A. Katherine Grieb, 2008, pp. 409-426. A significant part of the essay, which I do not write about here, explores Paul’s purpose in quoting Exodus 16:18.

Reconciliation: Broadening its Meaning (a video)

When many Christians encounter the word “reconciliation” in Paul’s writing they think of it only in a vertical sense—with God. An article by Miroslav Volf sparked an idea of how we might help people see that Paul had both vertical and horizontal implications in mind. I explained my idea in class through quickly-drawn images on the whiteboard. Yuya Ono, a current MA New Testament student at Fresno Pacific Biblical Seminary, took my rough images and greatly improved them for this 12-minute video I made to explain my idea.

Volf’s article: “The Social Meaning of Reconciliation” Interpretation, April 2000, 158-172.

A shorter version of Volf’s essay is available at: https://digitalcommons.georgefox.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1726&context=ree

The Cross Upends the Status-Grasping Ways of Society

May I never boast except in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, through which the world has been crucified to me, and I to the world (Gal 6:14 NIV).

 Should we really boast about the cross? I grew up in a culture that looks negatively on boasting. Therefore, I have not paid much attention to Paul’s use of the word here. I didn’t think he actually went around boasting. I assumed he just uses the word here to connect and contrast with the previous two verses and the boasting of others. But then I read a dissertation on honor-shame and Galatians by pastor and New Testament scholar David Harvey.

 He points out that, like today, in Paul’s time boasting was public self-aggrandizement. But, unlike today it was socially acceptable. Boasting was to make a claim for honor. Think of it like a group of children coming to adults and proudly saying, “Look what we did!” They are seeking affirmation. Similarly, in Paul’s time boasts were submitted to the court of public opinion. If they were accepted, the boasting individual or group gained honor. In the Roman world boasting also was a tool for shaping the behavior of others. Returning to the example of children, suppose you were a child playing with a separate group but you observed the positive response the other children received. You would then know that what they did is something that would gain praise. The positive response to the boasting of one group guided others to know what was honorable behavior (Harvey, 93-97).

 So, perhaps Paul really meant what he wrote. He did boast in the cross. He did so in order to make a statement about his honor status that invited others to embrace the same definition of honor. Although best for us not to boast in the 21rst English sense of the word, let’s not just run past this word. How might we join Paul in accomplishing the same things as his 1rst century boasting did?

 To put the word “boast” in its first century context, however, immediately brings up the incongruity of linking it with a cross. In the Roman world if one had any association with a crucified one the common action would be to hide or deny the connection, not boast about it. Many today, understandably, emphasize the physical torment of crucifixion, but in the first century it was the shame of crucifixion that was most feared. The fact that crosses, including Jesus’, were placed near very public roads underscores the shaming intent. It was a public spectacle designed to degrade.

 Why then does Paul make this oxymoronic statement about boasting in the cross? If we think of the cross just in terms of forgiveness of sins and individual salvation, it might be hard to explain. But in Galatians the cross is that and more; it is also the means “of a value-neutralizing social revolution” (Harvey, 227) (1:4; 2;16; 3:13; 3:27-28). At the cross Jesus did the exact opposite of what Paul has accused the agitators of doing in the previous two verses (6:12-13). Rather than grasping for honor for himself, he repeatedly risked his reputation in order to express loving acceptance to the shamed and excluded—to the point of death on a shameful cross. His death exposed the honor systems of the day as distorted from the ways of God. The cross and resurrection not only exposed these systems but turned them on their head and provided freedom from them (Gal 1:4; Col 2:15). Through the resurrection God validated the way of Jesus as the truly honorable way. With this broader meaning of the cross in mind we can understand “the phrase ‘boast in the cross’ as an attempt to define Christ’s shameful crucifixion as a paradigm for honourable behaviour for the Galatian Christians” (Harvey, 181). Within the new honor system formed by the cross of Christ, Paul’s statement is not paradoxical. Shame is relative to a group’s definition of honor. The paradox is not within Paul’s boasting in the cross, it is that the bounded other missionaries he critiques in the previous verses are still seeking status in categories of differentiation dissolved by Christ’s death.

 When we allow “boasting” to have the sense of staking an honor claim and including an element of instruction about what is honorable, we can see that in the few words of this verse Paul is communicating key elements of this letter to the Galatians. Through Christ he, and the Galatians too, can be free from the bounded-group-status-grasping way of the world and embrace a radically different concept of honor. And it truly is radical. Paul is boasting, staking his identity, in the cross, something that undermines status differences. I invite you to pause for a moment and reflect on what that implies about a centered approach. It points to it not just being a retooling of bounded or fuzzy, it is a radically different third way. There is still honor, still a group sense of identity, of belonging, but it is of a totally different character—the bounded group’s honor system turned upside down.

 It is upside down because at its foundation a centered group is about God acting, not human actions. It is not about Paul, his ethnic group, his religious tradition. It is about God’s gracious action and trusting in that saving action (2:16) enough to live according to this way instead of the world’s status systems.

 The cross of Jesus opens up a radically different alternative to these status games. We do not have to put others down or live up to twisted standards of success and status in order to have a sense of value and identity. Through the cross, Jesus exposed and tore down one system and replaced it with another. Let us live according to the honorable ways defined by the cross.

 • What are different ways status is measured, gained, and lost in the society you live in today? What are the implications for you of taking seriously Paul’s proclamation that these distinctions have been dissolved by the cross? (both in the sense of release from shame for not measuring up, and in the sense of turning away from judging others according to these standards).

 • What does Jesus’ honor code look like today? What types of behaviors/attitudes are worthy of “boasting” about within the upside-down honor code?

 The above is an adaptation of portions from pages 233-37, 244-45, Mark D. Baker, Freedom from Religiosity and Judgmentalism: Studies in Paul’s Letter to the Galatians, Kindred Productions, 2023.

 David S. Harvey, “Face in Galatians: ‘Boasting in the Cross’ as Reconfigured Honour in Paul’s Letter,” Ph. D. Thesis, University of Manchester, 2016.

Restoring Personhood – In the Early Church and Today

Gaius, mentioned in Paul’s letter to the Romans (16:23), was head of a household—meaning he likely had a large house that included his family and other workers and slaves. Andy Crouch observes that Gaius would have been a client to patrons above him as well as a patron to others with less status and power. Then Crouch makes this statement: "There is one other significant thing about Gaius that we need to grasp . . . He was a person" (15). Well, isn't that obvious? Do we need someone as brilliant as Andy Crouch to tell us that? What makes the statement significant is what Crouch explains next. In the Roman world at that time personhood was a legal category—someone with standing before the law. “Many people in Gaius’s world were, in fact not persons in this sense. Slaves, above all, though they were undeniably human, were treated under the law not as person but as property” (15). That helps us understand why Crouch told us he was a person, but why is Crouch writing about Gaius in a book on technology? (The Life We’re Looking For: Reclaiming Relationship in a Technological World.)

 Just as in Gaius’s day world forces hindered many humans from living as persons, Crouch argues that today technology and Mammon hinder humans from living as persons. Our machines and devices make us machine-like.

 Erastus, the next one mentioned in Romans, was a city official and also a person. The man mentioned before Gaius, Tertius, and the one after Erastus, Quartus, were not persons in Roman society. As Crouch observes, we know Tertius was a nobody partly because of his job—to take down dictation from important people like Gaius and Erastus. He may have been a slave, but even if a hired hand, he was still not considered a person. His name, "third," also points to his lack of status. Sons of slaves did not matter much, so they were often named by the month they were born or their birth order. Even non-slave families sometimes did this—only the first-born son really mattered. Out on the street, Gaius and Erastus are men of rank—persons, and Tertius and Quartus (Fourth) are nobodies—non-persons. But when they all gathered together as Jesus followers, the categories and stratification were left at the door. Slaves and free, scribes and city officials, men and women, all ate together at the same table. They all became persons.

 Crouch leads us to see this in the letter itself. He imagines Paul stopping dictation of his greetings and saying, “’Tertius, you should greet them.’ . . Suddenly the scribe is not just writing; he is speaking—and he has a name. . . Paul sees Tertius. He is Paul's brother, not just a hired hand" (115-16). Borrowing from Madeline L'Engle, we would say, Paul named him. “[T]he circle of brothers and sisters [expands] to include those who do the anonymous work, those who normally take orders, those who arrive without being greeted and depart without being noticed. Those who were named something like ‘number three’. . . But as they arrive and join the feast, every one of them is welcomed in the Lord. . . Because every one of them is a person” (116, 120).

The need for humans to be treated as persons, not things, is just as great or even greater today. There are still categories of people who, in the eyes of some, are less-than-human. Others perform machine-like labor and are often treated like machines. Yet now, even the personhood of those with status, today’s Gaius and Erastus, is lessened by technology and Mammon.

 Let us, the body of Christ, as individuals and communities, be instruments of naming—of restoring personhood to those who have lost or are losing it. Here are some ideas on how to do that.

          Table Fellowship – As in Gaius's time, inviting someone to share a meal communicates acceptance, restores dignity, and fosters human connection.

         Technology Fasts – In an earlier book, The Tech-Wise Family: Everyday Steps for Putting Technology in Its Proper Place, Andy Crouch shares some of his family’s practices, including fasting from their devices, one hour a day, one day a week, one week a year. Share the ideas, read the book with others—practice it together.

        Alternative Activities  – Don’t just take breaks from technology, but with intentionality do things that foster personhood—with friends, family, church community.

          Be Present  – Another area that calls for intentionality. In an age of absence be present to others.

          Give Dignity – Look for ways to increase the dignity of those with a dignity deficit.

         Evangelism – How might technology and Mammon's attack on personhood reframe how you think about and practice inviting others into a relationship with Jesus?

For Further reading –  In addition to the two books by Andy Crouch mentioned above, I recommend the following historical fiction books:

A Week in the Life of Rome  by James L. Papandrea

Lost Letters of Pergamum by Bruce Longenecker

 These narratives will help you feel and understand in greater depth the personhood-denying practices of Roman society and the radicalness of Christians' response.

Jesus: Carpenter or Construction Worker?

Imagine a carpentry shop. What are the images that come to mind? Imagine a crew of builders working on at a construction site. What comes to mind? What comes to mind when you hear the phrase, Jesus was a carpenter? What changes if you think of Jesus working for years on a building crew? A recent article I read by Jordan Monson persuaded me that “builder” or “construction worker” is a better translation than carpenter for the word in Matt. 13:55 and Mark 6:3. Now, instead of just thinking, "oh, those Bible scholars, always digging for details to argue about," I urge you to take a few minutes and join me in reflecting on what difference it might make whether we think of Jesus working at a carpenter’s bench or on a construction crew.

 I will briefly mention some of the main points in Monson's argument and then share some of his thoughts and my own on why it matters.

 “Carpenter” is not technically a wrong translation of tektōn, but the word is broader than that—more the sense of a builder who uses various materials—wood, stone, metal, thatch, plaster, etc. “Carpenter” may have seemed like the most fitting word for Bible translators in 17th-Century England, surrounded by woods and buildings made of wood, but does it make sense in Galilee? There were not many trees around Nazareth; hence little work was done with wood.

Monson, does not, however, just base his argument on building materials available for Jesus the tektōn. He asks the astute question, from where does Jesus draw his examples and metaphors? He often spoke of farming, occasionally of fishing, but not of carpentry—only one mention of wood and sawdust (Matt 7:3). But, Jesus often mentioned stones, foundations, and rocks. That points to him being a mason, working with stones.

Like other builders of the time, Jesus likely did not just work on small projects in his village. He and his father probably traveled to the nearby Sepphoris and worked with others on large building projects that Herod and others built. Jesus, at times, would have worked under the authority of head builders and perhaps had less-skilled laborers under his authority. This work experience shows up in his teaching. Jesus talks about wages, managers, hiring and firing, and building projects.

What difference does it make that instead of spending time cutting boards and hammering nails in a carpentry shop, Jesus, God incarnate, was chiseling, carrying, and laying stones?

It is easier to romanticize Jesus the carpenter meditatively working on a wood project with the sun streaming through the window. Few people plaster walls or build cement-block walls as a hobby, but many love spending time creating something out of wood at a home workbench. Thus it is easier to turn Jesus the carpenter into a more dignified respectable job.

The reality is that tektōn at that time, whatever building materials used, was a lowly position. Monson writes, "Jesus was not elite. His trade was not respected. Early church leaders of an aristocratic bent found Jesus' trade to be embarrassing. They wanted to distance him from it. The first substantive polemic against Christianity attaches the respectability of Jesus precisely on this account. In the second century, the pagan philosopher Celsus disparaged Jesus as 'only a tektōn'" (42-43).

God, through Jesus, did not just practice solidarity with and bring dignity to the marginalized through a few meals during his ministry. He spent years of living, working, and eating with the lowly. Thus, thinking of this word correctly enhances the significance of the incarnation for many who work in low-status jobs. God was quite literally one of them. What is the import for these people that Jesus was a construction worker? How might it challenge higher status people and their practice of viewing people differently based on their jobs?

There are multiple other reasons why the incarnation matters for us. One is that through Jesus’ being a human, God has experienced the joys and sufferings of humans. To move Jesus out of the quiet carpentry shop into the rough and tumble world of a construction crew broadens the sense of what he experienced. Think of conflicts you have had with co-workers, frustrations with a supervisor, drudgery on the job, unfair pay, or being totally drained after a long day. God incarnate likely experienced all this and more. Jesus experienced, as we do, many ways that human sin complicates the work-day world and causes suffering and pain. We pray to a God who does not just know about but has experienced what we go through. I invite you to take some time consciously praying to the God who worked as a stonemason on a building crew.

What are other ways that your thoughts or feelings about Jesus are enriched by thinking of him on a construction crew?

Based on: “The Stonemason the Builders Rejected” by Jordan K. Monson, Christianity Today, Dec, 2021: 40-43.

To further explore the significance of Jesus' humanity and divinity watch two 15 minute videos at the bottom of this page on my website.

Passing God’s test or commands of love?

As children, many of you probably sang the catchy tune, with fun hand motions, of the wise man building his house on the rock and the foolish man on the sand. The song conjured in my mind a house built on a beach—a dumb thing to do. When I have read the text in Matthew or Luke I bring that childhood image with me and, frankly, give little attention to the short parable. Recently, I saw it differently, but before I get to that, another song.

One evening my wife, Lynn, and I started singing songs from our youth-group past; one led to another. I found myself signing:

Do you ever search your heart 

as you watch the day depart 

Is there something way down deep 

you try to hide 

If this day should be end 

and eternity begin 

when the book is open wide 

would the Lord be satisfied? 

Is he satisfied, is he satisfied 

is he satisfied with me 

have I done my best 

have I stood the test 

Is he satisfied with me? 

Our daughter Julia, who was visiting, disbelieving, asks, “You sang that? What did that do to you?”

 It is a song about not falling short, measuring up. What is the character of this God? What is the purpose of commands given by this God?  Evaluative tool, a test. Julia was right, a bad song, toxic, but in another way not outlandish, normal. It displays a common view of the relationship between humans and God.

The parable of two housebuilders comes at the end of the Sermon on the Mount in Matthew and the Sermon on the Plain in Luke. What happens if we combine the song from my childhood and the song from my youth and read the parable in light of those songs? The point of the parable becomes: don’t be dumb and ignore God’s commands. Watch out; you better measure up! 

When referring to the commands in Jesus' sermon, many people refer to the upside-down nature of the Kingdom of God. True, Jesus’ commands contrast the ways of the world. But if we only look at the upside-downness of the content of the commands, we have not done enough. Let us also recognize the radical contrast between the God giving the commands and the typical religious ways of thinking about commands and God.

Joel Green, commenting on the commands of the sermon on the plain, describes them as “Practices determined by the gracious character of God”  (The Gospel of Luke, 280). A gracious God loves enemies, calls us to do the same; a gracious God is forgiving, calls us to do the same; a gracious God gives without expecting something in return, calls us to do the same.  

The commands are gracious in another way. Because God loves us and loves others, God gives these upside-down kingdom commands.  Jesus’ exhortations come out of love and longing for the flourishing of all.

Now let us turn to our parable of the two housebuilders in Luke 6. What is the key point? Jesus says, “I will show you what someone is like who comes to me, hears my words, and acts on them” (6:47). The emphasis is on obeying, putting the words into practice. But perhaps the most important word in this verse is “me.” Who is calling for the actions? Jesus’ words come out of love and longing for the flourishing of all.

Now back to my childhood image, is this parable about a person doing a dumb thing, building on a beach? It helps a bit that Luke's version doesn't say "sand," but even more helpful is to bring the lens of loving upside-downness to the parable.

“That one is like a man building a house, who dug deeply and laid the foundation on rock; when a flood arose, the river burst against that house but could not shake it, because it had been well built. But the one who hears and does not act is like a man who built a house on the ground without a foundation. When the river burst against it, immediately it fell, and great was the ruin of that house” (Luke 6:48-49).

One dug deeply to get to rock. The second person is not doing the ridiculous thing. He does the lazy thing. The ground looks ok, solid enough. He hopes it will work.

Listening and not obeying may appear to be ok. One might think, “Why obey these difficult, strange commands? I’ll be ok.” Jesus says, "no, don’t be fooled. You are better off obeying.”

The one telling the parable loves us. Jesus’ words come out of love and longing for the flourishing of all.

Based on the song of my youth, what would motivate me to obey? Fear of falling short and not satisfying God’s standards. How about based on gracious ethics? Obey because floods will come, better to be part of a loving, caring community.

To say they are loving commands does not mean they are easy. Like the hard work of digging deep in the dirt, they are challenging but worth it.

Out of love, Jesus calls us to obey the commands of Luke 6.

From the security of God’s love, we are called to love those hard to love, even enemies –who might that be for you?

God has given us so much; we are called to share from what we have received, to give, to lend without expecting a return.

As forgiven people, we are called to forgive. Who might God be calling you to forgive?

God receives us with a warm embrace, does not look down on us judgmentally. Jesus calls us to do the same in this sermon. What are judgmental thoughts he might call you to let go of?

Jesus’ words come out of love and longing for the flourishing of all.

Same Text, Different Lens: From Burdensome to Energizing

Tell the truth; don't steal; get rid of bitterness, rage, slander; be kind, etc. For much of my Christian life, I would have read Ephesians 4:25-5:2 as a list of infractions to avoid and positive things to do. In bounded churches we seize upon commands like these to draw lines to differentiate “good” Christian individuals from those who fall short. And the keyword is individuals. I most naturally read this text as a set of standards for individuals—a guide to individual morality. But what happens if I take off my individualistic bounded lenses and put on centered lenses? Recently, during a Bible study, someone in the group pointed out that the purpose of the commands is to ensure the thriving of the church community, not a means for individuals to achieve success on a moral checklist. I invite you to read over the passage and note how every command is explicitly or implicitly linked to the community's health or the thriving of others in the body of Christ. For example: "speak truthfully to your neighbor, for we are all members of one body;" "[they] must work . . . [so] that they may have something to share with those in need;” “be kind and compassionate to one another.” And even when the purpose is not stated, the single-word commands carry the same communal orientation. You cannot slander or brawl alone; others are involved and get hurt.

 So first, stepping away from a bounded reading and looking through a centered lens brings to light the communal nature of the text. It also deepens the interpretation of some of the commands. For instance, through a centered lens, the exhortation to speak truthfully calls for more than just avoiding lies. It includes lovingly confronting rather than keeping concerns about another Christian's actions to ourselves. Mostly, however, reading through a centered lens changes the character of the passage and points to the radically different character of a centered church. Rather than the verses weighing me down with additional boundary line demands, when read through a centered lens, they energize me! I hear the text saying, “Live like this for your thriving and the thriving of others.” The passage leaves me with a sense of the promise and possibility of a centered church community. It is a community that mirrors the very character of God. As the text says, as those loved and forgiven by God, let us share that love and forgiveness with others. How wonderful it is to be part of a group that treats each other in the ways described here.

The Radicalness of a List of Names

Rahab. Tamar. Ruth. Bathsheba. Mary. Their names shout out from the long list of male names in an otherwise standard-form-ancient-patriarchal genealogy in the first chapter of Matthew. Ancestry in that context was traced through the fathers. Matthew did not have to include women, would not be expected to. This is an intentional act. Just the inclusion of some women in the list makes a radical statement that prefigures the inclusive practice of the one at the end of the genealogy—Jesus. But Matthew did not include all the mothers, only these five. The intentionality goes beyond the inclusion of women, there is intentionality in which women are included. Why these women? There is something out-of-line or impure about all of them. In bounded-set terms we could say they are all on the wrong side of Israel’s purity code—either because of being a non-Jew or questionable sexual behavior, or both. (Although in the case of Bathsheba it is not so much her, she was a victim, rather her inclusion in the list as Uriah’s wife highlights the other-side-of-the-lineness of one of the most revered names in the list—David.)

None of the above was new to me. I have observed and talked about these things before. But as I read the list this week the radicalness of it, the power of it, moved me as it had not before. Perhaps because bounded and centered are so much on my mind these days (as I work on my book). Perhaps because there is so much judgmentalism, racism, and disdainful dismissal of others these days—by both the right and the left. Probably a combination. The very first words in the story of Jesus that God inspired Matthew to write are an intentional frontal assault on bounded group purity culture. And note, it is not just that marginalized people are quietly allowed in—given some seats off to the side. Their presence in the lineage of Jesus, God incarnate, is heralded. And remember, who is the one writing this—Matthew, one who has experienced the shameful exclusion of being on the wrong side of the line. He personally experienced radical inclusion through Jesus’ line-erasing actions.

Are there ways that you have recently felt “othered,” looked down upon? Take a moment imagine what Matthew might say to you? What would Jesus say to you?

What are ways you get pulled into the judgmentalism of the day? How might you reorient toward the way of Jesus?

Who are people in your circles who are feeling the weight of being on the wrong side of someone’s lines? How might you take Jesus-like actions toward them?

Let us as followers of Jesus be as radical as this text and confront the judgmental purity codes of our day.

Deepening Already Deep Convictions Through Being on the Ground in Israel

A set of plain steps—ancient, but very ordinary. It was my first day in Jerusalem. I saw ornate churches built on holy sites, large ruins, and the temple mount’s huge walls towered over it all. Yet looking at those steps most moved me that day. The steps come up from the Kidron Valley. After leaving the Garden of Gethsemane those who arrested Jesus would have brought him up these steps to get to the house of Caiphas the High Priest. (The ruins of his house were right behind me.) I stood looking down at those steps and thought, “God incarnate, Jesus, walked up those steps as an arrested criminal.” I have heard the story countless times (Mt 26:57; Lk 22:54; Jn 18:12-24) yet looking at the steps I felt the reality of it, the scandal of it, the significance of it, in a way I never had before. Incarnation felt more real; GOD, in the flesh, walked on these steps! GOD, in the flesh, was led up these steps bound as a criminal. I thought of the men in my jail Bible study, took this picture, and looked forward to proclaiming to them with more conviction: “God knows the fear and shame of being arrested. You pray to a God who understands.”

Christians confess that Jesus was fully human and fully divine. In my Christology class I challenge students to take both seriously—to not rush past his humanity in affirming his divinity. I considered myself someone who already emphasized incarnation and the humanity of Jesus. Yet repeatedly during my two weeks in Israel I found myself pressing deeper into the reality of God’s experience of human life through Jesus. The greater the depth and breadth we give to our conception of Jesus’ human experience the more able we are to feel the reality that God understands, experientially, what we encounter in life. The greater depth and breadth we give to our conception of Jesus’ human experience the more able we are to marvel at and worship a God who scandalously entered into human life in all its vulnerability.

Just as the concreteness of seeing the steps took me to a greater appreciation of the reality of incarnation, so too being in the Garden of Gethsemane blew the dust off a story that had become dull and drama-less. Looking through the trees and imagining Judas and the guards storming in, I felt the tension of the scene in ways I had not before. Peter’s violent reaction made sense. Rather than just thinking, “silly Peter,” as I usually do when I read the story, I felt the aggressive threat and the fear it would have produced. It was no small, easy, or automatic thing to respond in a non-retaliatory way as Jesus did. My thoughts then went to the cross—forgiveness rather than revenge.

Ceremonial washing area in Roman-era temple

The ruins of Beth Shean,, an ancient Israeli city, are right next to ruins of the first-century Roman city Nyssa Scythopolis. I was just about to head up to the hill to the Old Testament-era ruins—that seemed the obvious thing to do. But then I had another thought, “This is the sort of place that Paul would have spent time in—it is from his era. Take advantage of the opportunity Mark. You may not ever visit one of the cities he actually spent time in.”

I entered the ruins and imagined Paul walking streets like these. I spent most of my time sitting in the ruins of two temples. As I looked at the altar, the big columns, a place for washing, rooms for other cultic practices I reflected on both the importance given to religion and the elaborateness and formality of its practice. Then it struck me. What a contrast to the Christians.

Instead of going to a place like this, Christians met in houses, shared a meal. Very counter-cultural. What did their neighbors and fellow workers think!? I have written about shaming and pressure early Christians experienced,[1] but seeing these temples gave me much greater appreciation for how much they were going against the current of their times. I have even greater appreciation for Peter’s efforts in his first letter to counter the shame and ridicule and honor the Christians for following Jesus. May we be as courageous to be counter-cultural today and as generous in our affirmation of other Jesus followers going against the stream.

We cannot all go to the lands of the Bible. We can, however, seek to connect with the biblical text more concretely and experience the sort of things I did. Two suggestions: 1. With intentionality imagine the concrete reality of biblical texts—don’t just read the words, imagine the scene. 2. Read books by Bible scholars who have turned their research in fictionalized narratives to help us not just know about but feel the context of the biblical times. Two I recommend:

Lost Letters of Pergamum by Bruce Longenecker

The Shadow of the Galilean by Gerd Theissen

[1] Jayson Georges and Mark D. Baker, Ministering in Honor-Shame Cultures: Biblical Foundations and Practical Essentials (Downers Grove, IL: IVP Academic, 2016).