Parable of the Unfair God

Today's guest post comes from Aaron McCarter, pastor of the Vineyard in Maryville, TN. Aaron has been my pal for a number of years. He has an easy-going style: you find yourself at ease immediately. He's very likable. All of these qualities merely draw you in until you realize you're in the presence of a disciple of the King--the kind of person who will not settle for anything less than God's best in your life, or his. He and his wife, Sharon have two kids. He blogs here, tweets here, and follows Jesus pretty much everywhere. 

“For the Kingdom of Heaven is like a householder who went out early in the morning to hire laborers for his vineyard . . . 

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Parable of the Two Suitors

Today's guest post comes from Dusty Snyder, a deep thinker with the heart of a poet. Dusty and his wife, Emily live and work on the campuses of two small liberal arts colleges.
Beneath his calm and reserved exterior you discover and engaging and lively intellect, playful and welcoming. You can follow him on Twitter, or travel to Central Kentucky and follow him for real.

Once there were two suitors. The first saw the woman he desired and purposed in his heart to win her affections, and he began to scheme. He knew one way he could be seen as a worthy suitor by the woman was if he rescued her from danger.

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The Parables of Our Heart's Condition

The other day I was having coffee with Dallas WIllard -- no, wait -- that wasn't me, it was someone else. But I certainly wish it was me.

Dr. Willard is a gift to the church. For decades his work has centered on the deep joy of becoming an apprentice to the Master of Life, Jesus. Today's parable-post is drawn from his excellent article, "How to Become a Disciple," which originally appeared in The Christian Century, but was adapted from his book, The Divine Conspiracy, Rediscovering Our Hidden Life in God:

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The Parable of the Pushy Fireman

When I was a young boy Josué De La Cruz saved my life. My third-floor apartment on the northwest side of Chicago was fully involved in flames. The Latino firefighter crawled up the steps beneath the smoke, through the fire, and carried me to safety. I wouldn’t be alive today if it wasn’t for him.

He visited me in the hospital the next day. I thanked him for his courage and sacrifice. He told me he was happy to make a difference. We chatted for a while. His Spanish accent reminded me that he was from a completely different culture than mine. It was hard to understand him sometimes, but I was grateful. I fell asleep and he was gone.

Students of Jesus has a new Web address. Click here to read the rest of this post and check out our new design.

Parable of the American Businessman

Micahel Norton's blog, The Suburban Vagabond, incorporates one of my very favorite words. I've liked "vagabond" ever since hearing the lyric in The Lion King (sing it quietly to your self). He is a Jesus-follower and avid questioner. He lives near Indianapolis, Indiana with his wife, Amanda and his daughter, Lux. Michael is/has been a blogger, musician, pastor, poet, barista, construction worker, children’s minister, and ministry leader. Among his many hobbies are songwriting, hiking, coffee, travelling, listening to music (all kinds), reading, and people. His favorite authors include C.S. Lewis, N.T. Wright, Erwin McManus, Jack London, and Ted Dekker. You can read some of Michael’s endeavours into the world of poetry @ http://afineline.wordpress.com.

An American businessman, an oil executive, was flying into Afghanistan for an important meeting. On the way, his plane experienced catastrophic engine failure, and was forced to crash land. The passengers and crew – with the exception of the businessman – were all killed. He managed to stagger out of the burning wreckage, and lay bleeding, battered, and bruised under the shelter of a boulder, crying out for help from God and man.”

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The Parable of the Two Brothers

What happens when the artists become the Bible expositors? Apparently some people are offended, some are challenged, still others yawn and go their solitary way. More and more I find myself with the artists, because they help me see with new eyes, hear with new ears, and taste the sweetness of God’s good heart.

For example, look what happens to the Parable of the Prodigal Son in the hands of Franco Zeffirelli, director of the still-fabulous Jesus of Nazareth. In this six-minute clip Jesus tells the familiar parable from Luke 15, but this film version helps us understand more than one meaning of the well-known story. . . 

Students of Jesus has a new Web address. Click here to see the video and read the rest of this post and check out our new design. 

The Parable of the Storytelling Son

Andrew Perriman provides our guest post today. He and his wife, Belinda, and have lived in various parts of the world over the last 20 years: the Far East, Africa, Holland, the Middle East, the Nethelands, and London.They recently moved again to Dubai. His current theological interest is in how we retell the biblical story as we negotiate the difficult transition from the center to the margins of our culture following the collapse of Western Christendom.



There was a man who had two sons. The older son loved to tell stories and would keep the relatives and servants that made up his father’s household enthralled for hours with his repertoire of tales—not all of them believable—from the family’s eventful history. The younger son was of a much more rational frame of mind and couldn’t tell a joke to save his life.

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The Parable of the Shrewd (Good Guy) Manager

How do you argue with a story? One of the joys reading of the parables of Jesus is discovering the multiple meanings layered in by the Storyteller. Just when you think you understand his meaning, along comes another possibility.This eight-minute video suggests that the Parable of the Shrewd Manager is actually a tale of righteousness breaking into (previously) shady business dealings.

See the video at the NEW Students of Jesus Website

The Parable of Lost Sheep and "Bad" Friends

Robin McMillan and I share the distinction of having preached at each other’s churches--but we’ve never met. Like ships passing in the night, we are both passionately in pursuit of the King and his kingdom, but we’ve never put into the same port at the same time. Robin is the pastor at Queen City Church in Charlotte, NC. He’s a man brimming with personal experiences with God: stories to tell and life to share. He blogs here and Tweets there. Check him out!

The parable of the lost sheep is one of a trilogy of stories found in Luke 15 that Jesus used in response to the Pharisees’ criticism of His choices of friends and social interactions. The New Testament reveals that some called Jesus a wine bibber and a glutton, others accused Him of being the illicit child of an immoral mother. He wasn’t from the right tribe, the right town, or the right school; he didn’t have the right doctrine as far as they were concerned. Jesus had no shortage of critics.

The Pharisees criticized Jesus for both eating with and receiving tax collectors and sinners. Jesus responded by telling the story of a shepherd who had 100 sheep, and one of them ran off. Jesus assumed each of the Pharisees should leave the 99 for the 1 by saying, “What man of you having a hundred sheep, if he loses one of them, does not leave the ninety nine in the wilderness, and go after the one which is lost until he finds it?” -- thereby identifying both himself and the Pharisees as shepherds, a despised occupation in their culture.

This parable doesn’t only locate the darkness in the hearts of the Pharisees, it identifies some in my heart as well. Most business men would cut their 1% loss and rejoice over still having 99% on hand. That would be my own business sense because that’s good business: it’s just not love, and certainly not the heart of God!

So far, what has Jesus done in just a few short sentences? Concluded that the Pharisees should identify with shepherds; revealed their self-centeredness and pride; and reframed their personal responsibility as ministers. Can anyone say “Ouch?”

Jesus also assumed some responsibility for the one sheep’s condition… “if he [the shepherd] loses one” (Luke 15:3). That’s a different approach than placing all the blame on the sheep for having run off!

Jesus said that a good shepherd would find the sheep and lay it on his shoulders, rejoicing. That’s not the normal response He knew to be present in the Hebrew culture, nor in ours today. I have heard (and others have taught) that the reason the shepherd put the sheep on his shoulders and carried him home was because the norm was for the shepherd to break the lamb’s leg for running off, to teach him a lesson. If we did the same with our children we would be put in jail or the Department of Social Services would come get our children! He put him on His shoulders because lost sheep are often paralyzed with fear and the only hope of getting home would be if someone picked them up and carried them. Jesus said a good shepherd would do so ‘rejoicing’!

Heaven’s joy is based on the returning of lost sheep to their true home, the shepherd’s house. Heaven rejoices more over one returning lamb than ninety-nine who need no repentance. Too bad there are no such ninety-nine who need no repentance. No one needs 'no repentance'. We all have needed to repent at one time or another, or maybe even more than that.

God is a good businessman. He knows the way to secure the hearts of the ninety-nine is leave them for love of the one. That one could have been you or me. In so doing He builds a house of love and honor that has the potential to shake the world and reveal the heart of God. The heart of God is thus revealed in this short four-verse parable. It begins to fulfill the prayer of Jesus in a dynamic way; “Your kingdom come, Your will be done, on earth, as it is in heaven.” That's our calling. That's our challenge. That's our joy.

(For insights and inspiration I offer much gratitude to Kenneth E. Bailey and his book: The Cross and the Prodigal: Luke 15 Through the Eyes of Middle East Peasants.)

The Parable of the Old Man's Vineyard

If you blog long enough you end up meeting great people. Shawn Smucker is the friend of a friend of a friend--and I met that friend via blogging. Shawn, his wife, and four kids live in Paradise, literally (Paradise, PA--although I smell a tourism board at work somewhere). Everything I know about Shawn I know through the magic of the Interwebs, but I can tell you this: I like what I know, and if you check out his blog or follow him on the Twitter you will like it, too. 

The old man bends over and picks up a handful of soil. Fertile soil. He runs it through his finger – it crumbles and falls heavily to the ground. The sound is like the pounding of the first raindrops.

All around him, activity: carts arriving with stone, hammers pounding boards together, and men shouting to one another. A high stone wall rises against the horizon. Inside it, huge green leaves drape down over the tiniest orbs: the beginnings of grapes. A tower rises in the center, overlooks the vineyard and the stone wall and the surrounding countryside. It is like the eye of God, the center of the universe.

The old man owns the vineyard, but something leads him away. Something demands his attention elsewhere. He leases the land to a group of farmers; they are eager to make their fortune on this man’s fully prepared estate. They don’t have to spend a penny – everything is ready. The crop is even planted. All they have to do is harvest it.

The old man leaves.

* * * * *

Months later, the harvest. The old man cannot return – perhaps he is frail. Perhaps he has many such vineyards and cannot be everywhere at once. In any case, he sends three of his most trusted servants to collect his share of the grapes.

The farmers stand in the tower they did not build, looking out over the vineyard they did not plant, surrounded by a wall of stones they did not hew. They see the servants approaching from a long way off. Perhaps they are worried that the old man is coming back to end the lease. Perhaps they have gotten used to their newfound wealth, having made no initial investment. 

They meet the servants outside the stone wall. They beat the first one until he can only watch. They kill the next one instantly. But they surround the third servant and begin the slow work of murder by stoning until he is nothing but a hunk of bloody meat and exposed bone, his heart still beating. Then they draw closer and throw stones at his head until he dies, his skull crushed. 

The farmers walk back inside the stone wall. The beaten servant returns to the old man. His is a slow, painful journey.

* * * * *

The old man sends more servants. Perhaps if they see that he is persistent, and that he can come in greater numbers, they will simply give him his fair share.

But the farmers have gone too far. They cannot reverse their course. When this new batch of servants arrives, the farmers beat some, kill others. Blood forms small pools on the road leading up to the vineyard. The bodies draw flies. Inside, the farmers continue to harvest the grapes, their fingers stained by the juice.

* * * * *

The old man stares out from his house, far from the vineyard. He ponders the news – more servants killed. Still no payment. The sun sets, yellows and reds and oranges streaking across the sky. He can walk away, count the venture as lost. Or he can still try to reconcile with them.

He calls out to a servant who approaches with humility.

“Yes, my Lord?”

The old man pauses, and as the sky slips toward darkness, he whispers something. He does not tell the servant to gather an ever larger contingent. He does not tell the servant to send for mercenaries by which he will win back his vineyard. No, he asks for something different.

“Bring me my son.”

* * * * *

Sending his son is not a power play, at least not in the brute force sense of power. The son is not some special forces operative planning on sneaking in and killing them all in their sleep. He is not leading a group of soldiers. He is going alone.  

His father sends him in hopes that the farmers will be reminded. Who owns this vineyard? Who built the stone wall? The tower? To whom does all of this belong? The old man is hoping that the farmers will see his son as the embodiment of himself, and that they will respect his son as they respected him before he left.

But as the son approaches, the farmer’s meet him outside the stone wall. There is a moment of silence as the son stares at the men. They kill him without remorse.

The old man has no other heir to take over his estate, they reason. We can own the vineyard. 

The son lies dead outside the vineyard. It is finished. Or so the farmers believe.

* * * * *

What will the old man do to the farmers? Jesus asked the leaders.

He’ll kill them and lease the vineyard to those who give him his fair share, they exclaimed.

So I tell you, Jesus said, that the kingdom of God will be taken away from you and given to people who do the things God wants in his kingdom.

* * * * *

What do I say to God when he asks me to return these things that have always been his? Do I trust him with my children? With my money? With my dreams?

Am I prepared to do the things he asks me to do, even when it involves giving my most precious possessions back to him?

Offering, and not acquisition, has always formed the entrance to the kingdom.

The Parable of the Lost Tree Ornament

My friend Amy Durham and I go back at least a decade--maybe more. She puts the multi into multi-talented: mother of three, wife of one, musician, teacher, and writer of “paranormal teen fiction.” She’s J.K. Rowling waiting to be found, only better. Amy is a charter member of the Vineyard Writer’s Group in my hometown (no, you don’t have to go to the Vineyard to join in). Every couple of weeks she shows up and dazzles us with her work, plus plenty of encouragement and direction for the rest. I’m thrilled you get to meet her. She blogs here and tweets there. 

Tonight my two youngest sons and I put the Christmas tree up. It’s a joyous time of course, as little folks always get excited about the holiday decorations. As they were pulling the ornaments from the box and sticking them on the tree with great speed, I began to wonder… “Where is my nativity ornament?” It’s a nice little wooden ornament, carved from one thin piece of wood to look like Mary and baby Jesus. To anyone else it might seem ordinary, nothing all that special.  It has no sparkly stuff, no bright colors, nothing that would set it apart from the other beautifully crafted ornaments in my supply. But I remember buying that ornament at Marlow Woodcuts in Americus, Kansas. I remember walking through the shop, staring in awe at the intricate carvings--both large and small--created by the craftspeople there. I remember the very special people I was with on the day I bought that ornament. I remember the picture my then-boyfriend (now-husband) and I posed for outside the shop that afternoon.  

It took some time, and some digging in the ornament box, but I finally came across that little nativity ornament. I hung it, as I always do, in a place about eye-level for me, so that when I walk past the tree I can glance over at it, think about that place, that day, those people. I gave it a place of honor.

I didn’t shout “I found it” when I located it near the bottom of the box, though there was a part of me that wanted to. Because for all its ordinariness and nothing-specialness, I was so happy to see it, to touch it, to place it on my tree.

There are hundreds of little moments like that in my life, in your life, in everyone’s life: when a lost item is found, when something we thought was long gone is suddenly there in front of us. There’s a little spark of joy that ignites inside us in those moments, a smile that begins somewhere in the vicinity of our hearts and spreads outward. The joy of finding never really goes away, no matter how many times something goes missing, only to be found again.

I imagine it’s just that way for the Father, multiplied about a million times over, when he “finds” another lost one. I imagine the spark of joy in his heart is more like an inferno of delight when another person comes to know Him in that redeeming, life-changing way. In just the same way that I experienced excitement at finding that ornament, I believe the Father’s smile beams bright and brilliant each time His love captures a new heart. And just like I remember the day I bought that ornament, the people I was with, the picture that we took that day, the Father’s intimate knowledge of each heart gives Him the same opportunity for those sweet memories to bloom.

He illustrates this for us in Luke 15:8-10, where He describes a woman who searches the whole house over for a lost coin, inviting her neighbors to come rejoice with her after she finds it. Even though she had nine other coins, her joy at finding the one that was lost inspired a party!

Those people who frustrate me: like the person who blocks the entire aisle at the grocery store to stop and have a lengthy conversation with someone else, the kid who despite my best efforts will not be quiet and respectful in my classroom, anyone with the last name Kardashian who bombards the media with materialism and self-interest--all of these people create the same joy in the Father’s heart that my little wooden Christmas tree ornament created for me. I remind myself of this often, that my perspective on people is not the only one that matters, if it matters at all. Because there is a smile in the Father’s heart that is reserved for just those folks, and His smile at finding them will be even more brilliant than the one I had when I hung that ornament on my tree.

The Parable of the Incomprehensible Parable

Jennifer Luitwieler is my cyber-buddy. I'm pretty sure we could BFF's if I liked to run long distances at the expense of great personal pain, but I don't so we aren't. She's intelligent, unpredictable, and for some reason known only to her, has chosen to make her home in Oklahoma. I'm hoping the seven readers of Students of Jesus will not hold that against her. She's the author of Run With Me: An Accidental Runner and the Power of Poo. (I told you: unpredictable. And no, I will not run with her). She also has a unpredictable blog, or you can follow her on the Twitter.

When Ray asked for reflections on the parables, I thought he couldn’t have given an easier assignment. Those of us who grew up marinating in scriptures might feel like those particular wells have been mined dry. I thought I would dash off a few luminous paragraphs and let the people stand in silent awe. Then I did the goofy thing. I chose a parable that’s always been a challenge for me to wrap my puny human brain around. 

Luke 19:11-27 always throws me for a loop. The long and the short of it is that a wicked ruler was leaving his estate to be awarded a new kingdom. His servants disliked him so much they campaigned against him. But he still got the job. Before he left, he entrusted some money to a few servants, mandating they take care of what was his. Two servants invested the money and earned a return. One servant held onto the cash and returned it to the master when he arrived home. 

Every time I read this passage, I think the ending will change. I cross my fingers and hope that the guy who did as he was instructed, who took care of the money, will be praised. Every time, at the end, I’m hit with a bucket of cold reality.  I want to stomp my foot because that is just not fair. 

I don’t get it. I don’t get how the guy who strictly obeyed got the tongue lashing. I don’t get why this unjust man was being given even more to steward. I don’t get the way the parable ends: Jesus tells the disciples that those who have will be given more, and those who have nothing will be stripped even of that. 

What the what?

Parables are designed to be tough lessons disguised as palatable stories about a friend. You know, where Jesus tells us something sort of ugly about the human condition but it’s easier to digest because we’re given a little word picture. Like a spoonful of sugar with the Nyquil. Parables are meant to be comprehensible. There’s a beginning, a middle and an end. A good guy. A bad guy. A lesson. Even a way to make it not about us, if we try hard enough. 

There are two strategies we can employ to help us with scripture we don’t understand. We can use my old stand by: chosen ignorance. I used to avoid this parable, precisely because it remained to resolutely incomprehensible. If I just pretended it wasn’t there, then I didn’t have to worry about what it meant. That is a tried and true strategy, one that many of us have in our toolboxes. Problem is, it won’t work forever. 

The other strategy we can use, one which proves worthwhile in uncovering scriptural truths, is to actually….study it. Which is why I chose to focus on this parable; because I needed to struggle with it.  I read the parable in context, in Luke, just prior to the triumphal entry into Jerusalem. I flipped around looking at words and phrases, chasing sentences on the rabbit path in the garden of God’s word. 

Guess what? I still don’t understand it. I’m still wrestling with this passage. And that’s a good thing. God is big enough to handle my doubt. Thankfully, he is so strong that my understanding is not required for my redemption. He is able to withstand my perplexity. The more time I spent thinking about this passage, the more drawn into his Word I became, never a bad thing. In this case, I continue on the path toward understanding, choosing not to ignore the things I just don’t get. Because God is big enough to wrestle.

Parable to Make a King Cry

Welcome to week three of a new feature at Students of Jesus. Each Saturday you'll meet a guest-posting genius holding forth on one of the 46 parables found in the gospels. Despite popular opinion, parables were not simple stories told to make things easy to understand. Jesus used parables to shake our world view, and perhaps occasionally to destroy the wisdom of the wise. Come wrestle with us.

Jason Hood is that rarest of God's creation: a deep-thinking theologian who writes with style and good humor. He's also a bit of a contrarian, because he submitted an Old Testament parable, but we'll allow it because apparently Jesus read the Old Testament--who knew? Jason is a graduate of Rhodes College, Reformed Theological Seminary, and Highland Theological College and the University of Aberdeen. Jason works as Scholar-in-Residence and director of Christ College Residency Program at Christ UMC. He blogs at SAET, or you can follow him at twitter.com/jasonbhood.

Sometimes we treat the parables of Jesus as if they are simply putty for our fidgeting hands, sculpting their message however we wish. But that’s not the point of parables.

No parable does more to disabuse us of this approach than the parable Nathan tells David. I’m sure you know the story from 2 Samuel 11. King David should be leading the nation, but he’s not. He checks out porn and commits adultery (maybe rape). His target gets pregnant. Her husband is too good to take time off from the battle to enjoy her, so David resorts to murder: he arranges for a catastrophic military action that kills this good man and those he had the misfortune of standing next to him. As the dust settles, he shrugs and “encourages” his general with this gem of a line: “Hey, it's war. The sword sometimes gets people.”

Actually, it’s sin that kills people, spoils relationships, steals love and cars and reputations. And because we sin, we sometimes need a parable or two to kick us down to our knees in repentance.

Perhaps we could try this one: “There was a local pastor, and about all he had was his reputation. He took a few stands you didn’t agree with. And you felt it necessary to tear down his reputation and make him look little and ignorant in the eyes of more enlightened Christians...”

Maybe it’s not really a parable. But it’s a kick-in-the-teeth, and sometimes we need really hard words.

In the next chapter, God sends Nathan the prophet to David to tell him just such a parable. A rich guy with loads of sheep and cattle steals a wonderful little ewe lamb loved by another man, and kills him for good measure. David is incensed and demands that the man die.

Imagine Nathan the prophet's words in 12:7-10 being read by Samuel L. Jackson. “You ‘da man, David! You killed a man, David! I gave you all Israel and Judah—I’d have given you more! But No! You had to have that little ewe lamb!”

David gets it. He immediately confesses. At some point he writes Psalm 51 and promises to become a missionary (literally--read verses 13-15). Here's the sign of true religion: a broken and contrite heart. Not a good defense attorney. No cover-up, spin, image control; there’s no hitting refresh on our moral track record. There’s nothing to put to use but knees and lips.

Parables like Nathan’s only work if they kick us in the teeth, shaking us out of our rhythm of self-assurance and the complacence of immorality. And when they work as intended, they have a lasting impact. Note what happens to David and Bathsheba. According to 1 Chronicles 3, they name their third child Nathan. (Admit it: you thought genealogies were boring!)

I’ve never heard of a man naming a child after a pastor who kicked his butt. But maybe we need to revisit that trend, just like we need to revisit the parables.

The Parable of the Glum Bums

I'm thrilled to introduce week two of a new feature at Students of Jesus. Each Saturday you'll meet a guest-posting genius holding forth on one of the 46 parables found in the gospels. Despite popular opinion, parables were not simple stories told to make things easy to understand. Jesus used parables to shake our world view, and perhaps occasionally to destroy the wisdom of the wise. Come wrestle with us.

My son, Joe Hollenbach, is an immensely talented writer with a voice all his own. The wellspring of his rich imagination runs deep; you can find a store of refreshing stories at his blog, which has lain dormant for a season--but perhaps you can urge him onward in this pursuit, because the world will be poorer without hearing his stories.

***

I’ll admit it: I’m as self-entitled a person as the world has known. 

Only moments after speaking eternal promises to one another and to the Lord, I turned to my new bride as we walked back up the aisle and said, “Just remember, what’s yours is now mine and what’s mine is still mine.” Four years later and she knows I was only half-kidding.

When my Dad asked for a quick-hitter on the parable of my choosing, I hemmed and hawed to myself before admitting the Parable of the Workers in the Vineyard was right up my alley.

The synopsis goes like this: a landowner goes out early in the morning looking for farm hands to toil in his vineyard. He grabs a group of guys, (presumably strapping dudes) establishes their pay and sets them to their task. As the day progresses, the vintner continues to hire more workers: some at noon, more in the afternoon, and even a few right before sundown, at which point he cuts all the hired hands a check of equal pay. This nettled those who toiled since sunrise and they caved to their frustration with fits of grumbles. The landlord tells them to quit griping as they’ve been rewarded with the payment they agreed upon, further explaining it’s no concern of theirs if he decides to be generous with his riches. Read it for yourself, though. Matthew 20:1-16. Don’t worry. I’ll wait for you.

All caught up? Excellent. Let’s dive in.

The obvious (and worn) interpretation of this passage is easily identifiable. It speaks of the goodness of Jesus and his unyielding pursuit to bless all of us. Regardless of when we come to the Lord, he loves us with the same tenacity as the next. It’s an awfully good thing, isn’t it?

But there are so many layers to this parable that just get white-washed. Yes, the concept that Jesus-loves-you-and-wants-you-to-have-nice-things is killer, but what lays beneath the surface level? The part of this passage that most resonates with me is the attitude of the early morning employee. The interaction of those grumblers with the landlord speaks volumes to me, personally. It serves as an admonition to those of us that might let cynicism and self-importance cloud the larger scheme.

In life, I almost always find myself mired in the morning laborer’s frame of mind: Disgruntled, envious, and consumed with concept that the world has it out for me. Like I tell everyone, “I’m an optimist, but I do wear a rain coat.”  

If you’re like me, a hopeless Eeyore, I’d like to share what speaks to me from this parable. Trust me; there are plenty of reasons for us to be glad:

• To live in God’s economy is to operate in generosity and prosperity – and the Lord’s currency never depreciates. It’s always a good time to buy stock in His love and provision. It’s a limitless wealth. What he gives, and the amount we receive, comes from the generosity of his heart toward us. This is a concept I still cannot fully comprehend. I doubt I ever will. Whenever someone experiences a season of success or reward, I hate to admit it but I have to remind myself to be glad for them. The Kingdom of Heaven is nothing like capitalism, thankfully. The prosperity of others does not come at my expense, yours, or anyone’s.

• The master works hard, too - In the narrative, we see the landowner is constantly in motion, morning until dusk, finding new hands – and all of his work is to our benefit! With each addition, the burden lightens and the distribution of the work becomes less daunting for those already in the fold. We are uplifted as the numbers strengthen. This is part of the abundance of Jesus.

• Hard work delivers a satisfying harvest – In truth, I’ve not yet found anything more exhausting than being committed to a community of fellow believers. Conversely, nothing else compares to the fruits that the Church delivers. Life is meant to be spent in communion: messy, achy, back-breaking communion. The same people that offend you and wear you down will undoubtedly inspire you and lift you up. Our identity comes into a sharper focus when in healthy communion with God and his children. There’s an inexplicable, twisted symmetry to it all. Delight in it. It’s family-living and it bears a fruit sweeter than any imagining.

• His land is beautiful – it’s a quaint observation, but have you ever spent time in a Vineyard? It’s breathtaking. If you haven’t, no worries. Rent A Walk in the Clouds and you’ll understand the beauty. It takes a spirit hell-bent on negativity and a mind eaten alive with self-absorption to not appreciate the glory of God’s creation. To be completely practical, when I feel taken advantage of it puts me off all mirth; I have trouble doing much more than pout. I live in the central Kentucky, surrounded by palatial farm manors, thoroughbreds of dappled chestnut and misty grey, and autumns so deep with reds and oranges they leave you breathless. And yet all these arresting visuals and natural wonders fall aside when I fixate on how the world is out to slight me. When we focus on self-pity, we’re robbing ourselves of the vision of His Kingdom. 

November is a great month to re-order your perspective.  Some people prefer the start of a new year for drastic endeavors, but Thanksgiving demands reflection upon the good and decent endowments in our lives. I hope you’ll all take this holiday weekend as an opportunity to commit to gratitude and gladness.

The Parable of Missing the Point

I'm thrilled to launch a new feature at Students of Jesus. Each Saturday you'll meet a guest-posting genius holding forth on one of the 46 parables found in the gospels. Despite popular opinion, parables were not simple stories told to make things easy to understand. Jesus used parables to shake our world view, and perhaps occasionally to destroy the wisdom of the wise. Come wrestle with us.

Sarah Cunningham is a disarming person. She describes herself as a "skinny white girl," but behind the self-deprecation are observant eyes and a sharp mind. She's the internationally-known author of two books and one child, who apparently rules the household. You can find her work at Amazon or at her website, SarahCunningham.org. 

When Ray asked a group of us to talk about parables, my mind immediately raced to the familiar parable of the talents found in Matthew 25. 

This came to mind first for less than noble reasons. Not because I’m particularly inspired by the message, but because I’m particularly un-inspired by the way Sunday School tends to deliver the message up. 

You know the story, as it starts in verse 14.

The master has to go to a far off place, so he leaves his servants with “talents”—talents being not “skills”, as we read the word, but an ancient unit of money.

The master then returns and—good news—two of the servants have invested wisely and doubled their money. But the third guy buried his in an apparent fit of paranoia, and didn’t do squat with what he was given.

The traditional telling I’ve heard umpteen times, and maybe you’ve heard too, is don’t bury your talent. Let it shine. If it’s told in Sunday School, it wraps neatly into a segué to This Little Light of Mine.

But this telling short-changes the actual passage, in my only-sometimes-humble opinion, and is a good example of how we sometimes accidentally flatten the Scriptures by pulling verses out of context and wielding them like individual fairy tales.

Panning out to the bigger picture gives us an expanded reading that is way more compelling and impressive than the two-bit morality tale.

Consider the following clues:

• Matthew is writing this book to a Jewish audience to try to convince them that Jesus is the Messiah they’ve been waiting for. That’s why, in Chapter 1, he starts the genealogy with Abraham and builds forward through King David to Jesus. Hint, hint, Jews. Follow the family tree.
• Right before this parable, organized in the same chapter, is the parable of the ten virgins. Just like the servants were awaiting their master, this story too is about people awaiting a man, the Bridegroom. And just like in the talent story, some of the people are prepared for the Bridegroom to come (they have oil), but some are caught unprepared
• Right after this parable is another story about people who were or were not prepared to recognize what was important. The king praises some for caring for the disadvantaged, saying that when they did this, it was as if they were caring for the king himself. Once again, though, there are some who looked at the disadvantaged and never took the opportunity to care for the king. 
• The parable of the talents ends with the Master separating the servants. Two are praised and told to enter into the joy of the Lord. The other one is sent out to the place where there is weeping and gnashing of teeth. This seems like a subtle clue that something more than talent, something eternally big, is at stake in the story.

When we put all this together, I begin to doubt that the parable is about using your talent for God at all. 

I think Matthew—who wanted to convince the Jews Jesus was the long awaited Messiah—told three stories in a row about people who missed the King for an entirely different reason.

The Jews were missing Jesus right in front of them.

And that’s why in verse 29, he says that some of the people who “have” (the carriers of the faith, “chosen” Israel?) will lose.

Even though I think the “don’t bury your talent” in the ground version is cute, and metaphorically a wise principle, it frustrates me because it ends with the wrong question.

I don’t think we’re supposed to read Matthew 25 and ask ourselves if we’re using our talent for God.

Or at least I don’t think that’s the main thing.

I think we should ask ourselves if  we—the carriers of the faith, the modern day church—and our religious practices are so empty that we wouldn’t see Jesus if he was starving right in front of us. 

Monday's Meditation: A Christmas Parable

God comes to us in unexpected ways. Our problem is that we are looking for him according to our expectations. This is one of the lessons of the first Christmas: God came to nation which eagerly longed for his coming, prayed for his return, and placed all their hopes in his presence. Yet most of the nation missed the hour of his visitation. Is this simply history, or a parable for our day?

The people of God known as Israel had looked for a “day of visitation” for at least 500 years before the coming of Jesus. The nation remembered the golden age of King David a thousand years before the days of Herod, a counterfeit king. David was the prototype of God’s chosen vessel, a unifying and conquering King who established Israel in peace, security, and prosperity. After David’s reign many the prophets began to anticipate a day when Yahweh, the God of Israel, would not rule through a representative king. Instead, God would come personally, take his place on earth and establish Jerusalem as the pinnacle of the earth.

The day of God’s visitation would be both glorious and terrifying. The oppressed (Israel) would be rescued and the oppressor (Persia, Syria, Greece, Rome--or whomever was on top at the time) would be cast down. The people of Israel were looking for their freedom and expected God to judge the rest of the world as well. They expected God would come to the Temple and establish his throne on the earth. They expected “The Day of the Lord,” both great and terrible--great for them, terrible for their enemies. These expectations were based on their understanding of the scriptures and the encouragement of their teachers. These expectations shaped their view of the world, and became the substance of their hopes.

Who could have imagined that when God came to earth personally, he would be dressed in frailty? Who could have imagined that God would indeed come to the Temple, only to declare that the true Temple was built of living stones? Who could have imagined that this King would establish his throne in the hearts of men? And perhaps most incredibly, who could have imagined that the Day of Judgment would indeed come, but that the Son of God would take the judgment upon himself in order to save the guilty?

Of course, in our day, we know these things. We can see clearly. But still the original question remains as a Christmas meditation: Is this simply history, or a parable for our day?

17 Observations on Matthew 13:

And now for something completely different: today I spent some time in Matthew, chapter 13. That’s the chapter chocked full of parables of the Kingdom of Heaven. Usually I try to write a structured post, with a beginning, middle, and end, but today I thought I would simply record a series of observations from this chapter. Grab your Bible and find Matthew, chapter 13: you’re invited to follow along. It could take just five minutes or you could spend an hour. As to whether it is well-structured--you be the judge.

(Bonus observation, not counted in the 17: don't think for a minute that Jesus is talking about "heaven" as in "Go to Heaven when you die." He's not!)

Verses 3 - 9: Why do so many people presume that an equal amount of seed fell on all four types of soil? Several different commentaries make such statements, but it’s not really indicated in what Jesus says. Wouldn’t it make more sense that a tiny amount fell on the hardened path, and that lots and lots fell into stony or thorn-infested soil? Wouldn't the sower discover which soil was which after things started to grow?

Verse 11: The secrets of the kingdom are given to disciples, not casual listeners. Would God actually conceal things?

Verse 12: Not only would he conceal things, he apparently entrusts treasures to those who have demonstrated that they will take care of them.

Verse 16: Yet he tells the disciples that they are blessed beyond many prophets and righteous people. He is lavish with those who are following hard after him.

Verse 19: “Anyone” can mean me, too.

Verse 23: I remember Derek Prince pointed out that thirty and sixty-fold add up to ninety. He said the hundred-fold dimension is a kind of fruitfulness that exceeds the other two combined. After 30 years I’m still not sure what Derek meant.

Verse 27: Why does everyone require the Master to explain himself? The implication is that it’s his fault. Do I do that? Do I demand that God explain why things go wrong?

Verse 29: Even in the presence of evil, God cares about the harvest.

Verses 31- 33: Jesus used little tiny “bookend parables.” Not everything has to be L-O-N-G. Am I listening?

Verse 36: People who hang around after the crowds leave usually get something extra. What’s my hurry?

Verses 44 & 45: Two more bookends. These are strikingly different. One guy finds the treasure, presumably by accident; the other guy has been purposefully looking for that one pearl. One guy recognizes what anyone can see--treasure; the other guy has trained himself to recognize something rare and precious. Both sell everything they have--everything?

Verse 46: For the sixth time, “the kingdom of heaven is like . . .” Jesus is using images, not allegories. Where did these images come from? Well, for one, what do you think he was doing those first 30 years of this life?

Verse 49: For the second time, “so it will be at the end of the age.” True, the Kingdom of Heaven is breaking into the here-and-now, but it is also about the end of the age. Do I live my life with the end of the age in mind?

Verse 51: Breathtaking! They answered, “Yes.”

Verse 52: Good news--we can be “trained in the Kingdom.” There’s hope for anyone who wants to be his student.

Verse 53: This should be the end of chapter 13. When Langton divided the scripture into chapters in the 13th century he got this one wrong.

Verse 53 (again): When you’re finished, it’s time to leave.

The Facebook Quiz You'll Never See

Have you seen the explosion of personality quizzes available on Facebook? Which Twilight character are you? What is the theme song of your life? Which super-villain are you? Which love-language do you have? Who knows how many other quiz topics are available? Carl Jung read our cultural urges quite well a half-century ago when he said, “The world will ask you who you are, and if you do not know, the world will tell you.”

There is another quiz we should be eager to take, but it’s not on Facebook. It’s in the other book:
“The farmer sows the word. Some people are like seed along the path, where the word is sown. As soon as they hear it, Satan comes and takes away the word that was sown in them. Others, like seed sown on rocky places, hear the word and at once receive it with joy. But since they have no root, they last only a short time. When trouble or persecution comes because of the word, they quickly fall away. Still others, like seed sown among thorns, hear the word; but the worries of this life, the deceitfulness of wealth and the desires for other things come in and choke the word, making it unfruitful. Others, like seed sown on good soil, hear the word, accept it, and produce a crop--thirty, sixty or even a hundred times what was sown."
Mark 4: 14 – 20

Just because we have heard something before doesn’t mean we should pass it by. Watchman Nee observed that patience in the face of the familiar is a sign of spiritual maturity.

Let me tell you about the first time I ever heard this parable. The night after I became a follower of Jesus a speaker used this parable to challenge new believers with an admonition continue as Christians. I just naturally assumed that I was the good soil. How could I be anything else? Sitting next to me that night was a friend from high school who had also just turned to Jesus. After the message she wept and wept and wept. Finally she composed herself enough to sob, “I just don’t want to let Jesus down. I’m afraid I might turn out to be one of those other types of soil.” I had assumed that I was the kind of person who was naturally good and would bear fruit, while she was moved to tears, crying and asking for the grace to live up her calling. At that moment I realized that after just one day she was already way beyond me in her walk with Jesus.

Here’s a quiz that should be all over Facebook: Which kind of soil are you?

Jesus may have had more than one application for this parable. For example, do we think this parable refers only to the first time God calls to us? Perhaps Jesus was explaining the nature of every word God speaks to us. Each time God speaks all four possibilities are in play. Will his word penetrate my heart today? If he has a life-changing word for me today, will I let it take deep root? Will today’s cares choke it out? Or will the fresh word he speaks yield an amazing crop—today?

As a young Christian I thought Jesus was describing a fixed reality: too bad for those with hardened hearts, rocky soil, or lives full of weeds! Thank goodness I was the good soil! It never occurred to me that his words were a call for me to tend my own heart. I am never further away from the Kingdom than when I think that his words are for someone else, but not for me.

Another question: why do most people assume an even distribution of the different kinds of soil? So many commentators discuss each soil condition as if 25% of the seed fell on each type. Can you imagine anyone sowing one quarter of their seed on a walking path? The greatest difficulties are the conditions below the surface. The rocky soil or the type filled with weeds may well have comprised most of the field. Perhaps the North American church struggles with power and fruitfulness because the vast majority of our hearts are shallow or filled with other concerns like worry or wealth. Do we know what lies beneath the surface of our lives? Do we dare ask him for his assessment?

Finally, this isn’t just any parable. Just before his explanation Jesus asked his disciples, "Don't you understand this parable? How then will you understand any parable?” (v 13) Jesus cautioned his students that this parable was critical to receiving the Kingdom of God (v 11). These very famous verses can still speak with authority today if we will take time to tend the garden.