The Mechanics of Forgiveness (from John 21)

Forgiveness is, as we all know, that process whereby someone does something wrong, then they repent, say they’re sorry to the person they have wronged, and the other person says they forgive them.

Except, no one gave Jesus or Peter the memo.

The story of Peter’s denial of Jesus is (in)famous in all the Christian world, and even beyond. Later, after the ascension of Jesus, Peter becomes the leader of the fledgling church. But what happens in between? Where is the big repentance scene, and the accompanying forgiveness? In fact, we don’t see it.

What we see, instead, is Jesus carrying on with Peter, almost as if nothing had happened.

I say “almost” because of the way Jesus talks to Peter in the latter part of John 21.

There, the risen Jesus sees the disciples in Peter’s boat, and calls them to shore to have a bite to eat (vv. 1-10). After that, Jesus singles out Peter and asks him very pointedly, three times, if he loved him.

I remember being really envious of a good friend of mine who did a paper on this passage when we were in university together. I was in a different program where we did not get to study scripture in this way, and I thought what he was doing was the ultimate in fun.

Anyway, he pointed out to me, way back then, that since Peter is traditionally thought to have denied Jesus three times, then Jesus’ thrice asked question was good a way for him to reinstate himself. He was implicitly forgiven, even though nothing had been said.

This is a good reminder for me. Sometimes saying the words is awkward, or even impossible. But, while words can be powerful, and are sometimes necessary, they are not always needed. What is essential, always, are the actions and intentions behind the words. This is what the Lord of Forgiveness shows us here.

Believing What? (from John 20)

Belief/faith is not usually a blind leap off a cliff (I think that was Kierkegaard’s thing), but a slow step-by-step process, leading up to further decisions down the road. To someone on the outside, it may look like a leap, but only because they have not been privy to all the unseen things going on inside.

In John 20 the author tells us some of the unseen things going on.

After the burial of Jesus’ body, Mary Magdalene goes to see it to better prepare it, but when she gets to the tomb it is empty. She hurries back to tell Peter and the other disciple (we assume this is John, but it does not say).

They in turn rush off to the tomb, with the other disciple getting there first, but stopping outside the door. When impetuous Peter gets there, he goes straight in, and the other disciple follows him. When they saw that the clothes that Jesus had been laying in were just lying there, we are told of the other disciple, “He saw and believed” (v. 8).

But what did he believe?

Verse 9 right away tells us, “They still did not understand from Scripture that Jesus had to rise from the dead,” so apparently the author wants us to know it was not the resurrection that he believed in at that point.

(I should note here that the most likely author of the Gospel what he keeps calling “the other disciple,” which is John himself, who is being awkwardly modest here.)

The commentators (I only have three here that I looked at, including Bengel and John Chrysostom), all agree that what he believed was Mary’s story, about the body not being there. Back in Luke’s Gospel, he reports that when the disciples were first told, they did not believe the report, which sounded to them like nonsense (Luke 23.9, 11).

I am okay with that answer, and I think it is true – the other disciple now knows that Mary’s story about the body is true – but I do not think it goes far enough.

The other disciple still does not believe Jesus has been raised at this point, since that is not really on his radar. But it seems silly for him to note that he believed that Jesus’ body was not there – that was an obvious thing which he could see with his eyes, requiring no faith or belief at all.

Thus far we have been going with the facts on file, but now I will explain my hunch, and speculate a little bit.

I think this little phrase (and in the Greek it is all one sentence in v. 8) refers to the fact that the other disciple, in seeing the empty tomb, now believes in Jesus. His faith has been possibly shattered by the arrest, and crucifixion, and burial – but as anyone knows who has been disappointed after believing in something deeply, for a long time, that smoldering wick of a faith will still have a hope in it. I think this is what is revived in this disciple. He does not yet know the particulars of his believe, but he now believes in this man, Jesus.

He does not know yet when or where Jesus will show up, or where he will take him, but he does not need to. He believes in Him. Like that time when you were waiting with an acquaintance for another friend, and the other person did not show up on time. Your acquaintance was willing to give up and leave, but you persisted in waiting – not because of anything you saw, but because you knew the character of your friend, that she would not let you down.

Taking Jesus (from John 19)

Books are funny things; sometimes the very structure of them causes us to see things in a certain way.

In my Bible, as I am looking at the pages, the start of John 19 is at the top left of the page; then the account of the crucifixion is right next to it, at the top of the next column. In both passages it is said that someone “took” Jesus.

First, Pilate took Jesus and had him flogged; then the soldiers took Jesus in order to crucify him. Looking back, I saw that the soldiers had taken him from the garden to meet with the high priest. Looking forward, Joseph of Arimathea takes his body from the cross in order to bury him.

The Greek word for “to take” is not theologically significant in itself. It is the normal word that we use when we take the dog for a walk, or the kids to the park. But in reflecting on it with respect to the Son of God, the omnipotent One, it is an amazing thought that anyone could take Jesus anywhere.

After a little search, I went back to John 10 and read there what Jesus says about taking and being taken.

“The reason my Father loves me is that I lay down my life – only to take it up again. No one takes it from me, but I lay it down of my own accord. I have authority to lay it down and authority to take it up again.” (John 10.17-18)

This is pretty much what Jesus retorted to Pilate, after the governor claimed to have some kind of power over him: “You would have no power over me if it were not given to you from above.” (19.11)

When Pilate, the soldiers, and Joseph took Jesus to and from the cross, he was in one sense a strictly passive object, being passed around as though he had no say in the matter. This is what it looked like on the surface of things.

Underneath, however, he reveals to us that something else is happening. He is here no mere passive object; rather, he is the Almighty subject, actively laying down his life of his own accord.

All of this is significant in itself, I think, and worthy of further reflection as we contemplate the gift of God in Christ Jesus.

While I don’t want to rush past it – and in my own private reflections here, I will not – still, I want to make a simple observation about our own lives.

Often in life, the Christlike thing to do in a given situation is to be a passive actor (this is a great generalization, but I think the reader will instinctively understand what I am getting at); to allow others to have their will and their way with us. This may perhaps be unconsciously seen as some kind of abdication on our part; that if we lie down, as it were, and allow others to have their way, then we have quit being an active subject and have left off our Christian duty in some way. Thus, we resist with all our might whatever others might be trying to do with us.

What it seems that Jesus teaches us here, is that being taken by others where they want us to go; allowing ourselves to let others take the lead for us; and so on (the scenarios will be endless); is not simply playing the part of a passive object. It does not (necessarily) mean that we have been lazy, and have left off our duty in order to allow others to take charge. Sometimes it might mean that we have truly learned what it means to take up our cross and deny ourselves, by letting others take us where they want us to go. It is not a passive doing nothing, but a very active and conscious – though admittedly difficult – letting go, so that we might take up some thing else that God may have for us.

Good Augustinian for an Old, but Current, Problem

In reading Augustine’s letters, I came across a couple this afternoon that are simply too current to pass by without comment. They concern the problem of Christians running afoul of their home church, and simply leaving it for another church, without giving proper notice, or attempting to fix the problem at all. When they go to the new church, Augustine says, they go “as if renewed and sanctified, but in truth more hardened in sin.” (NPNF¹, I.264)

In Augustine’s case, he was talking about a man who had been beating and threatening his own mother; when his bishop rebuked him for such terrible behaviour, he removed himself to another church, where he was accepted with no questions asked.

He told another story, where a young priest was getting involved with some nuns, whom he had no business with. Again, he was rebuked by his superior, and so he left that church for the other, being received with no consequences for his bad actions.

I have seen this happen both in North America and here in Africa. As a former pastor, I hold the pastors primarily to account. We are so fearful of our positions that: 1) we fail to properly discipline those within our own congregations, and 2) we fail to exercise proper discernment with those who are coming to us from other churches. Sometimes this is called sheep-stealing, and this is how Augustine speaks of it.

In truth, what it is is the spread of a sickness in the body, by allowing the sin of a person or persons to continue unchecked into another limb.

Augustine’s antidote – which I think should work for us today – is quite simple. He says that he is determined, as the leader of his own church, not to receive anyone into communion from another church, when they have left under cloudy circumstances – unless that person undergoes the discipline that their original church would have imposed upon them.

Of course, the issue of discipline is in sad disrepair in our churches, so perhaps this simply pushes the problem back a bit. But Augustine has wisdom here, and we would do well to heed him.

When It Is Cold (from John 18)

I was reading the story of Peter this morning, from John 18.15-18. This is his first denial of being a disciple of Jesus.

He had gone with his friend John, and he had waited outside the high priest’s courtyard while John went inside (John was known to the high priest, while Peter was a stranger to him). John talks to the servant girl there, and then comes and gets Peter, and brings him in.

We are told that it was cold, and Peter was standing with the servants and officials round a fire to keep themselves warm. Here in Cameroon we might have a chilly morning every once a while (yesterday was such a day, as it had rained most of the night, and the sun did not shine in the morning), but I doubt much we’ll know the kind of cold that made Peter and the rest to stand around warming themselves at a fire.

Being from Canada, however, I certainly know what it is like to be cold. And I know what it is like to have my face to the fire, while my back freezes, waiting its turn to be warmed. In those situations, you really don’t want to leave; even turning around to warm the backside of you is a frustration because you know you’ll be making the other half cold again.

I’ve often wondered about Peter – Judas too, when it comes to that – and the decision to betray and deny their Lord. Looking at this, it seems that part of the answer is simple human physiology: we don’t like to be cold, and if we’re by a fire we don’t want to leave it.

Poor Peter. I can’t judge him, for I too have been cold, and knew selfishness as a result.

Church Unity (from John 17)

John 17 gives us Jesus’ High Priestly Prayer – the prayer he offers to the Father as the high priest. There is a lot there to take in, though a slow reading of the text allows us to see what his priorities were quite easily.

One sad thing here – at least it is sad for me right now – is Jesus’ prayer for the unity of his followers, found in vv. 20-23. Being a reader of history, I have often been struck by the contumacy of the church towards this prayer, and how human pride and wickedness have thwarted its realization. There is no part of the church that can be without its share of fault here: Catholic, Protestant, Orthodox, and whatnots today. We are all guilty.

I also know, though, that the missions’ movement in the 19^th and 20^th centuries is what spurred on the modern ecumenical movement. The missionaries on the ground knew all too well the truth of Jesus’ words: that the world would know they were Christians, and that his gospel was true, when they saw the unity of his people.

But is the church truly united today? Can we say Jesus’ prayer – surely spoken in accord with the will of the Father – has been answered in the affirmative? Or is the oneness, the unity, of Jesus’ followers found on another level, which I have not yet seen? Or is it, again, something that might only be found in the afterlife? Is it actually a prayer that God can answer, or can it only be answered by us, his people? Very often, God answers prayer only through his people: is this one of those times?

Questions, but no answer. Prayer, but no resolution. Sometimes, this too is our portion.

Not Alone in Trials (from John 16)

Towards the end of Jesus’ talk in the Upper Room, just before he begins to pray (in chap 17), he says this:

A time is coming and in fact has come when you will be scattered, each to your own home. You will leave me all alone. Yet I am not alone, for my Father is with me.

I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world. (vv. 32-33)

Jesus is referring to his arrest and crucifixion, when the disciples will flee in fear, and he will be left alone on the cross. But even though on the outside it will look like he is isolated, he will not be; his Father will still be with him.

The word he uses for trouble is the usual one that is translated “tribulation” in the NT. In this life you and I will go through tribulation of various sorts and degrees. Oftentimes, it will feel in the midst of our tribulation that we are all alone.

Normally during those times, it will not occur to us to look around us and consider the lilies; or to lift up our heads and see that the sun is still shining. No, we will be immersed in whatever muck and mire the world is intently throwing at us at that moment.

Which is why times like this – when we are quietly reading a blog (or writing one, in my case) – it is good to remind ourselves, and to train our minds, to simply have faith and know that, yes, God the Spirit is with me even now, and He will not leave nor forsake me. Others may, and will, leave us, but He will not. This is a wonderful aspect of the peace (or at least a significant part of it) that Jesus leaves with us.

A Different Kind of Friend (from John 15)

I have this great aversion to hearing people talk about Jesus or God as their friend, and thinking they can somehow treat God like any other friend when it comes to approaching him to chat and so on. Maybe its because I took an Intro to Art History course at Trinity Western my first year there, and saw a big painting of Jesus as the Pantocrator; after that, it is tough seeing him as a possible best bud.

It is also difficult after reading John 15.

Starting in v. 12, John 15 records Jesus’ words like this: “My command is this: Love each other as I have loved you. Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends. You are my friends if you do what I command. I no longer call you servants, because a servant does not know his master’s business. Instead, I have called you friends, for everything that I learned from my father I have made known to you.”

I have written about this elsewhere, but here will repeat a little of what I said there. The nature of friendship here is quite different from any friendship we might know among our “normal” friends (assuming, of course, that our friends can be called normal). No other friendship will have as its basis the strict obedience of one friend to another; yet this is the basis on which we might be called the friends of Jesus.

“You are my friends if you do what I command.” That is a unique foundation upon which to build a friendship, to say the least. This is not an equal-opportunity friendship; it is inequitable. Friend to Jesus I might be, but there is still no question about who is boss in this relationship. Lordship is still an attribute of the Lord.

Another Nutshell (from John 14)

John 14 is the beginning of what is known as The Upper Room Discourse, since Jesus gives a long series of talks to his disciples in the Upper Room as they sat over their Passover meal. The main purpose of all the talking is to encourage the disciples, who would that very night see their beloved master arrested and taken away from then.

If we would wish another little nutshell of the gospel, we can hardly do better than look at John 14.19b.

The first half of the verse (part a), goes together with what I wrote regarding the hiddenness of God in John 12: “Before long, the world will not see me anymore, but you will see me.” Jesus will die by crucifixion the next day and be buried; after that, those who do not believe in him will not see him. His disciples, however, will see him again, though in a different, resurrected form.

The second half of the verse, part b, is our focus today: “Because I live, you also will live.”

This is the good news in a nutshell.

Christians and historically literate non-Christians are agreed that Jesus was crucified on a tree, and died there. After that, however, they part company.

Christians are those who read these words of Jesus and know the deep truth of them: Jesus rose from the dead, and is alive today. Because of that, we know that we too will live – even as Jesus said, “I am the resurrection and the life. The one who believes in me will live, even though they die.” (John 11.25) This is our faith, our joy, and our confession.

Know Thyself (from John 13)

In one of the villages I visit, I had been there a fairly long time, and had listened to the teaching given by the other teachers in the morning (quite often I would teach, and then one or two others would teach after me). Over a significant period of time, it seemed the content of the teaching/preaching was all about what the people ought to be doing. This seemed to me a little out of whack, but I couldn’t put my finger on the reason why. Then one morning I was reading John 13 and it came to me.

It was during the evening meal that Jesus “knew that the Father had put all things under his power, and that he had come from God and was returning to God; so he got up from the meal, took off his outer clothing, and wrapped a towel around his waist. After that, he poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples’ feet.” (vv. 3-5)

Here too, I saw, Jesus was doing something in the way of a good work, something he was supposed to do in order to train his disciples. But the order I saw in this little passage struck me as having great significance. Take note of it with me.

First, Jesus recognizes who he is, where he was from, and where he was going. He was from God, was going again to God, and had been given all power from God the Father.

Second, because of that knowledge; based on that knowledge; having that knowledge of who and whence he was as his foundation; he began to serve.

Christians and their pastors today will do well to recall this passage from time to time. We know there are things we need to be doing, and doing better. We are constantly reminded of that fact. But the basis on which we may persevere and endure in those difficult works is the recognition of who and whose we are, and where we are heading.