how do you know me

Posted on January 29, 2010 by Jon Swanson

You know me, some of you, because we see each other every day. You know me, some of you, because someone introduced us. You know me, some of you, because you discovered me on your way to somewhere else.

When Nathanael asked Jesus, “How do you know me?” he wasn’t talking about simple introductions. That’s because Jesus, when he saw Nathanael approaching said to those standing around, “Here is a true Israelite, in whom there is nothing false.”

This would have been the last thing Nathanael would have expected. After all, his comment to his friend Philip about Jesus had been “can anything good come from Nazareth?”

With this kind of public greeting, Nathanael is stuck. Either Jesus is a sham, in which case you can’t trust what he says (and Nathanael would desperately like these words to be true of him) or Jesus is completely accurate, in which case Philip was right and Nathanael completely wrong.

So Nathanael says, “how do you know me?”

Nathanael had a lot riding on this question. A true son of Israel, one who actually cared about Messiah, about following well.

And now, he’s risking everything with one question for this potential Messiah: how do you know me?

And Jesus tells him where he was sitting.

What a waste of insight! Think of all the things Jesus could have said about Nathanael’s thoughts or sins or doubts or struggles or stupidity or mistreatment of people as a child. Jesus could have made him miserable.

That’s what we expect of God at times. Shaming us.

Instead, Jesus told him a simple concrete detail from the past 15 minutes.

And Nathanael knew he’d found the rabbi he wanted to follow.

A rabbi who knew everything and didn’t use it for guilt. Who more than dominance wanted relationship.

looking back – July 27-31

Posted on August 1, 2009 by Jon Swanson

Monday – Helping each other grow

For the next few days we will look at what Jesus says in Matthew 18:15-20 about sin and relationship and conversation and restoration. It’s a hard topic. It hurts to talk to other people about sin, both theirs and ours.

However, our calling as followers is to follow better, closer, more completely, more freely. Helping each other in this calling is pretty important.

Tuesday – Beginning a community of trust

This is a quiet conversation, a humble conversation, a Jesus-righteous rather than self-righteous conversation. This is a conversation between two people. … This is an invitation to a community of helping each other see what we can’t see ourselves and being grateful that others will do the same for us.

Wednesday – But, did Jesus?

Jesus consistently put himself in the presence of people who had sinned and gently but specifically pointed out the problem, offered forgiveness, and continued to have a relationship with them. There is a serious informality, a warmth. Sometimes we see a response. Sometimes we don’t. Likely, there are many such conversations we don’t see.

When Jesus says, “If your brother sins, tell him,” Jesus was merely saying, “Here’s the restoration principle you have been watching me live.”

Thursday – maybe it will work

But for many of us, most of the time, we are not planning to pursue willfully a flagrant disregard of God’s directions. In fact, for many of us, most of the time, a close friend, a spouse, a sibling, a child approaching us and saying that it looks like we have sinned and that they are concerned for us will cause us to stop.

Friday – to the next level

This isn’t about ganging up. It’s about slowing down, listening to be sure of what each is saying.

It’s an unrush to judgment.

taking sides

Posted on May 27, 2009 by Jon Swanson

I don’t like sides. I don’t like having to decide which team to be on. I don’t like being forced to be with one group or the other.

That’s why I want to avoid Matthew 13: 11-17.

Because I am working our way through Matthew, writing 300 words a day about following Jesus, I consider whether to discuss each section. Part of the decisionmaking process is a simple question: “Is this something I don’t want to write about?”

If the answer is, “I don’t want to,” it means that I have to address it. I can’t hide from it.

That is the case with this passage. Jesus is saying that some people will understand and some won’t. Further, he is saying that some people will be given understanding and some won’t.

This is difficult. It feels not fair.

Theologians have debated the amount God gets to decide and the amount we get to decide. For centuries. And there are sides. And it is hard to take sides. And non-theologians look at the words and try to understand how fair it is that God gets to decide who will understand and who won’t. And it is hard to take sides.

But what if we don’t have to take sides? What if Jesus is describing what we all know to be true?

That no matter how hard you try to explain math to someone who has decided that they can’t understand, they won’t get it.

That no matter how much you explain the safety rigging for the trapeze to someone who doesn’t trust it, they won’t go up.

That no matter how much food you offer to someone with their mouth clamped shut, they won’t be nourished.

And they fail the test and don’t see the heights.

And the food eventually will be taken away.

storm

Posted on March 30, 2009 by Jon Swanson

Commercial fishermen understand weather.

Commercial fishermen understand water.

That understanding is their salary. That understanding is their life. That understanding can mean their life, when a storm comes up unexpectedly.

One day Jesus climbs in a boat. His disciples follow him. A storm comes up. They are scared to death. They are scared of death.

I have to wonder if there was any time between Jesus climbing in the boat and the conversation that is recorded immediately before. Because if the one happened immediately after the other, at least one of the disciples had to be thinking, “‘follow me’, he says, and we follow him into a boat and now we’ll die. And if we die out here, only the dead will be able to bury the dead.”

And that’s how it works. We heard a lesson on Sunday. We heard a sermon. We taught a lesson. And in the process we decided that we were going to follow, we were going to get in the boat when Jesus dis. We were going to be there with him.

Sometime overnight a storm kicked up. It’s there in your email this morning, or on your voicemail, or in your mind when you wake up at 4:00am to let the dog out. You get in the boat, there is a storm, and Jesus decided to sleep in.

At least that’s what happened for the disciples. There is a storm, the kind that makes even commercial fishermen scared and Jesus is not paying attention, not caring, not waking up.

But if he’s in the boat, is he really going to let it sink? Really?

Or is he allowing enough storm that no one on the boat can handle it without him? No one, on their own, can ride it out.

But with him?

please take care of me

Posted on February 28, 2009 by Jon Swanson

“You aren’t going to leave me, are you?”

When you are getting to know someone too good to be true, you have questions. You acknowledge their greatness. You ask them for help. You acknowledge your weakness.

Then, after all that, as you are starting to relax a bit, you are suddenly seized with fear. What if they aren’t going to stick around? What if they aren’t going to follow through? What is they are going to be like everyone else we have ever known in our lives who sometime, someday, doesn’t come through?

We get so used to people who don’t keep their word, who let us down. We are familiar with the feeling of betrayal, of abandonment, of disappointment. We watch every leader we know prove to be human, at best.

And so, having made all our requests known, we stop and we say

“Don’t lead us into temptation.”

“Do deliver us from evil.”

God, please don’t bring us this far and leave us. Don’t bring us through the week and into the weekend and then leave us alone, facing temptation.

Don’t do to us what you did to your own son.

There it is.

We want to be able to trust God but we somehow can’t. We look at what happens to people who follow him, who even are Him, and what we see undermines what we think should happen.

Jesus was led into the desert to be tempted by the devil. By the Spirit. Just two chapters ago. And Jesus survived the direct testing. Now he says, “Ask the Father not to do the first part with you, and to just do the second part.”

Maybe we don’t have to understand the theology to say these words. Maybe we just have to give voice to our fears.