Tag: Messiah

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Bible Challenge 41: Messiah – The Lamb of God

It’s been a roller-coaster week.  After whining and complaining about his triumphant entry into the city, Jesus’ enemies have been trying to catch him in a verbal stumble, but he’s always a step ahead of them. They are almost in despair until an opportunity opens: unbeknownst to them, a greater enemy has entered on the scene, and the supposed Messiah now has a new struggle to face.  The greatest one of his life.

To find out who it was, and to download the free .pdf, with scripture passages, discussion/though questions, and family-centered activities click below:

Bible Reading Challenge Week 41: Messiah – The Lamb of God

(This is a continuation of a series of posts about the “whole story” of the Bible.  I plan to run one every week, on Tuesdays, with a printable PDF.  The printable includes a brief 2-3 paragraph introduction, Bible passages to read, a key verse, 5-7 thought/discussion questions, and 2-3 activities for the kids.  Here’s the Overview of the entire Bible series.)

Previous: Week 40: Messiah – The Last Days

Next: Week 42: The Church – He’s Alive!

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David’s Son

But he said to them, “How can they say that the Christ is David’s son?”  Luke 20:41

These few days are laced with music.  Roving bands of singers and musicians are not uncommon during Passover week, but the mood this year is uncommonly light.  The city fizzes with anticipation, knowing something momentous is in the works.  He may wait until after the Passover feast to declare himself—or why not during?  Passover means deliverance, and behold, it is at hand; who could keep from singing?

The Lord declared to my Lord,

‘Sit at my right hand

Until I make your enemies your footstool.’*

A cobbled-up children’s choir, blown in like blossoms and led by someone’s older sister, sing in his presence:

Rule over your enemies, call up your people on the day of battle;

In holy splendor, from the womb of dawn,

Rise up in the dew of your youth—

For the Blessed One has sworn, and will never disavow,

‘You are a priest forever, in the line of Melchizedek,

The LORD stands at your right hand

Ready to crush kings, judge nations, pile up the dead.

Refresh yourself from sparkling springs

And lift up your head!*

Their order breaks down as the song ends.  Giggling and blushing, they stammer out, “Blessings on you, Son of David!” before running away in all directions.

Charming, think the followers.  Disturbing, think the scribes, who have sung the identical psalm any crownnumber of times with no more than a theoretical understanding.  But now it is looking at them—or is it?

“Tell me,” The Nazarene asks his audience: “why do they say Messiah is the son of David?”

His followers merely gaze at him dumbly, like sheep.

“Well,” one of the scribes begin (with some hesitation, suspecting a trap), “David was promised a successor who would reign forever, and . . .”

“How can David himself call him ‘my Lord,’ as you just heard in the Psalm, if Messiah is his son?”

The people keep on grinning, delighted with this rhetorical flourish, but the scribes know it isn’t a flourish.  He claims to be greater than David, their greatest king.  This can lead to no good.  Irksome as the Pharisees are, insufferable as the Sadducees, they all must align in a common cause.

The teacher is clever, they’ll give him that, and more than that—the teacher is profound and wise and infuriating and attractive and repulsive and . . . something entirely outside their experience.

Ultimately though, he’s a great trouble.  He is on a collision course with reality.  Real kings crush pretend kings every time and the collateral damage is horrendous: often counted, as every son of Israel has reason to know, in the multiples of crosses strung along the roads.  Better one casualty than dozens, or hundreds.  For the sake of many, one must die.

*Psalm 110, commonly understood as a Messianic prediction

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For the original post in this series, go here.

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The Real Messiah Project

Now it happened that as he was praying alone, the disciples were with him.  And he asked them, “Who do the crowds say that I am?”          Luke 9:18

In all his preaching and teaching about the kingdom (see the capsule sermon in 6:20-49), Jesus has left out one vital element: himself.  His doctrine is radical—a fact that the miracle-working and storm-calming overshadows.  Loving your enemies? Turning the other cheek?  Going two miles instead of one?  He means it, too: “Why do you call me Lord, and don’t do what I say (6:46).  To date, no one seems to have wrestled with this teaching except the Pharisees–interestingly, they’re the only ones who seem to be really listening to what he says.  For his fans, it’s enough to follow, to marvel, to be around when great things happen.  We’d expect his inner circle to be more attentive, but maybe not.

But now, in the middle of a prayer it seems, he breaks off and asks his disciples, “Who do the crowds say that I am?”

Remember, he hasn’t really been mingling so much with “the crowds” lately, with the notable exception of that hillside picnic for 5000+.  But they have.  They’ve been on the road, preaching and healing, accepting hospitality and meals.  Presumably there’s been some conversation around the tables, and it’s time to talk about that.  So . . . What are they saying about me?  What’s the word on the street?

They’ve heard an earful—even that he’s John the Baptist, returned from the dead!  That rumor has apparently reached the court of Herod himself (9:7)–proving that far-fetched conspiracy theories are not new.  Elijah is a popular guess, or failing that, one of the other prophets somehow risen from the dead, brushed up and recycled.  Imagine the conversation: “Yes, I heard that one too—but you won’t believe what somebody else told me . . .”  They may have had a good laugh about some of the crazy  ideas circulating out there.  Eventually the Master says, Okay, fine; but you know me.  We’ve been together for a while now.  What do you say?

Does it matter?

Infinitely.

Peter speaks up, with a classroom-perfect answer: “God’s Messiah!”

Matthew, who was there, makes a lot more of this answer, including Jesus’ response (“Blessed are you, Simon bar-Jonah . . .”) and his later rebuke (“Get behind me, Satan!”).  Luke skips over that interesting exchange and gets right to the point of what Messiah means.  You want to talk prophets?  How about Isaiah?  ‘Bruised for our transgressions, cursed for our iniquities . . the punishment that brought us peace was on him . . .’  Does that ring a bell with anyone?

The Son of Man must suffer many things and be rejected by the elders, chief priests, and scribes, be killed, and raised on the third day.

Whoa.  Run that by again?  They didn’t catch it.  But Jesus continues with a personal application, something about dying to one’s self, picking up a cross (a cross?), following him (But aren’t we doing that already?), losing your life in order to save it— Not what anyone expected to hear.  Not what anyone expects to hear.  They like the part about the poor being exalted and the hungry being fed and the sorrowful rejoicing, but he seems to be leaving off the good parts this time.  Whoever would save his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will save it.  Which makes no sense.  He’s gone off on a tangent, like he does sometimes.  Peter corrects him (Matt. 16:22) and gets slapped down for it, but he only had the nerve to say what they all were thinking: “Far be it from you, Lord! This will never happen to you!” And by extension, it will never happen to us.

The moment passes, but it was very uncomfortable.  And they won’t quite forget it, especially since the their understanding of the mission is about to be dazzled.

For the original post in this series, go here.

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Are You the One?

The disciples of John reported all these things to him.  And John, calling two of his disciples to him, sent them to the Lord, saying, “Are you the one who is to com, or shall we look for another?” (Luke 7:18-19)

Meanwhile, things haven’t been going well for John.  We already know (3:20) that he’s been locked up for preaching a little too close to home for the local authorities, and (holy as he is) it’s only human to have some doubts.

Envy has nothing to do with it.  He always knew that Messiah must increase.  But now he’s now sure the man he baptized and witnessed to is really the One.  Where’s the winnowing fork?  Where’s the ax laid to the root?  Where’s the fiery Holy-Spirit baptism?  Prison is not the problem, for John was prepared for anything.  Hang him up by his thumbs, roast him slowly over hot coals—no big deal as long as his message was true.  Get ready! Repent! Judgment is on its way with the Kingdom of Heaven close upon its heels!

But the reports he is hearing are not what he expected.John-in-prison

Messiah is making news, all right, but instead of judging people, he’s healing them.  The gist of his sermons is about loving your enemies and being like your Father in heaven.  Father?  And what’s all this about “Do not judge”?  John’s sermons were all about righteousness and the Kingdom and–yes, judging.  The righteous judgment of God was the whole point.  Languishing in Herod’s prison, his life hanging on the whims of a vindictive woman, John can’t take the ambiguity anymore.  He has to get an answer, even though Jesus might be angry.  Are you the one?  Or to put it another way, did I dedicate my life to cutting a path for you . . . for nothing?

The two disciples come back with some reassurance: Jesus wasn’t angry.  But he wasn’t a model of clarity either.  Imagine the conversation: “We stayed all afternoon and watched him heal people.  Scores of people—blind, cripples, lepers, demon-possessed.  He healed them all.  You should have heard the demons screaming as they gave up their grip!  In between, he talked.  Lots of people came just to listen to him.  He quoted that passage from Isaiah, the one about the Spirit of the Lord being on him and preaching good news to the poor.”

Good news, thinks John.  Not judgment, after all?

“He told us to tell you what we saw.  And one more thing: a message for you.”

“Yes?”

“He said, ‘Blessed is the one who takes no offense at me.”

Offense?! thinks John.  Was he taking offense?  No, he was just asking . . . or maybe . . . Well.

The prophet sitting in the dungeon, soon to lose his head, has no superior in the old order.  Elijah, Elisha, Isaiah—none are greater than he.  Yet this kingdom he preached was beyond even his comprehension.  The youngest child who finds a place in it is “greater” (in understanding, experience, love) than John.  Many, many years later, Jesus’s half-brother James would acknowledge this while writing to fellow believers: Elijah? Just a man, like you.  But he had no more access to the Father than you.  In fact, you have more.  You have a blood relationship, a living Spirit.

John, don’t be offended . . . The great message you delivered was vital and necessary, but only the half of it.

Elsewhere in Galilee, Jesus pauses in his healing and preaching to glance over at the ever-present peanut gallery: the scribes and Pharisees who, Luke informs us, rejected God’s plan for themselves.  They disapproved John, they disapprove Jesus: one a fanatic, possibly possessed; the other altogether too friendly with good food and wine and tax collectors.  The only religious figure who would satisfy them might be found by looking into a mirror.  Yet—“Wisdom is vindicated by all her children.”  The children, a motley rag-tag group for sure, are beginning to make themselves known.  In fact, well see one in the next chapter.

For the original post in this series, go here.

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