As a Child (The Inescapable Story of Jesus #9b) (CCD)
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Matthew’s Gospel opens with a lineage from Abraham down to Jesus. Luke’s Gospel includes a family tree from Jesus back to Adam. Mark did not neglect to give a lineage. Rather, fitting his stylistic rapid pace gives us the most concise lineage possible for Jesus: He is the Son of God the Father. But the Heavenly Father promises His Beloved Son glory. But this glory will be bought with blood.
And he said unto them, Verily I say unto you, That there be some of them that stand here, which shall not taste of death, till they have seen the kingdom of God come with power. And after six days Jesus taketh with him Peter, and James, and John, and leadeth them up into an high mountain apart by themselves: and he was transfigured before them. And his raiment became shining, exceeding white as snow; so as no fuller on earth can white them. […]
Mark 9:1ff
After the revelation of the last chapter that Jesus is indeed the Christ, and must die and rise again, Jesus informs His disciples and the crowds that His Kingdom will come with power in their lifetime (v1). Mark now underscores this point by taking us up a mountain to show us Christ’s glory. Mark gives a rare time-statement, six days later, a call-back to the creation narrative. Three witnesses, Peter, James, and John are led by Jesus to the top of a mountain and is transformed (metamorphosed) before them, His robes shine as bright as a mirror reflecting the sun; Elijah and Moses appear and talk with Jesus (vv2-4). Peter, out of fearful wonder, proposes the building of tabernacles for them (vv5-6). Instead, the glory cloud of the Spirit of God overshadows them and the Father’s voice proclaims, “This is my beloved Son: hear him.” In the blink of an eye, the wondrous cloud and OT visitors were gone and only Jesus remained with them (vv7-8).
While descending the mountain, Jesus instructs them to tell no one until the Son of Man (Cf. Dan. 7) rose again; this talk about rising again puzzles the three disciples (vv9-10). It sparks a question regarding the accuracy of the scribes’ teaching about Elijah coming before Messiah. Jesus assures them that the scribes are right, Elijah would come to restore all things, but the prophetic writings also teach of the Son of man’s sufferings. Jesus goes on to assert that the prophesied coming of Elijah had already taken place, and he’d been treated as was written (vv11-13).
The reunion with the rest of the disciples confronts Jesus with a squabble to sort out. His appearance shocks the crowds (Cf. Mk. 14:33, 16:5-6) and straightway they bring the point of contention to Jesus. A man speaks up for the crowd to tell that he’d brought his son to the disciples because his son was vexed by an unclean spirit that afflicted him with violent fits, deafness, and speechlessness. They’d been unable to cast out the demon (vv14-18). Jesus passes a judgement upon His generation for their faithlessness, and then commands the boy to brought; when the boy saw Jesus, straightway a demonic fit began. Jesus inquires as to the duration of the affliction. The man answers that the boy has endured the violence of this demonic possession from childhood, and he pleads for compassion and help (vv19-22). Jesus tells the man that if he believes all things are possible, and straightway the man responds with a tearful confession and prayer, “Lord, I believe; help thou mine unbelief.” Jesus’ attention turns to the turmoil of the crowd due to the foul spirit. He rebukes the spirit, which violently convulses a final time, seemingly killing the boy. But Jesus is there to perform a shadow of the resurrection which everything in Jesus’ story is leading towards (vv23-27). Later, in private, the disciples are perplexed why they couldn’t drive out this particular demon, so Jesus teaches them that this kind of spirit must be driven out by prayer (vv28-29, Cf. Lk. 9:28).
This passage raises an important theological point. It is quite easy to slip into some form of heresy when dealing with the two episodes where God speaks from heaven (baptism & transfiguration). On one hand it might be tempting to think that up until this point the divine nature of Jesus was hidden, and suddenly here is where the mask comes off. But this is to fall into what we call docetism, that Jesus only appeared to be a man. On the other hand, these episodes are used to teach that Jesus was merely a man and that at one of these points the Father decided Jesus was a good enough man for Him to use, this is often called adoptionism.
In modern times, with particularly Mormonism becoming more mainline, these christological errors not only linger but are becoming common among the evangelical rank and file. The transfiguration isn’t an instance of “the Christ” coming upon Jesus. Rather, as we confessed in the Nicene Creed, Jesus is “of one substance with the Father.” He is not the Father, but He and the Father are one in Godhead. At His conception the eternal Christ, who was very God of very God, was united with a true human body. The transfiguration is the unveiled glory of human nature reunited with God. Sin had sundered and sullied human nature, Jesus Christ came to drag human nature out of the gutter and raise it into glory. His human nature became resplendent with His divine nature. This is the hope of the resurrection, that our mortal bodies will be raised into glory because they are covenantally united to Christ’s body.
The presence of Moses and Elijah with Jesus is rich with meaning. The Law and the Prophets, as it were, add their amen to the Father’s declaration that Jesus is His Beloved Son. Moses had ascended Sinai to receive the Law; Elijah had ascended Sinai and received the prophetic call. Now both stand as witnesses to the fullness of the Law and Prophets reach their crescendo in the Gospel of Jesus. Peter’s instinct to built a tabernacle to contain the glory is off the mark, but not by much. A tabernacle was needed, but not one made with human hands. Rather, Jesus was the tabernacle––the true house of God––and the glory cloud was a proof that in Jesus man might dwell in God’s House. The dwelling place for the saints of every age––as represented by Elijah, Moses, and the three Apostles––is in the tabernacle of Christ’s body.
Thus far, Jesus’ ministry has been booming. Crowds are gathering. Merely His touch heals. Five loaves feed five thousand. Scrupulous scribes are mocked. Herod is quaking in his boots. Suddenly, the success grinds to a halt. Danger and difficulty are growing. These ominous notes begin precisely as the glory rises to a peak. Jesus is declared to be the Christ (Mk. 8) and then is transfigured, with a promise of even greater glory which awaits the Son of God upon the completion of His mission. The glory is real, it is promised, but it will be hard fought. A violent dragon must be subdued.
Glory and hardships aren’t opposites. As Solomon says, it’s the glory of kings to search out a matter. Glory is hidden in hardships. Glory is weighty. Glory is heavy. The raging dragon which Jesus meets at the foot of the mountain isn’t a diminishment of the glory which was revealed atop the mountain. Instead, the glory on the mountain was a glimmer of the glory which would come through all the danger which Jesus must grapple with and overcome.
At Christ’s baptism the Father spoke His love over His only begotten Son, sent the Spirit as a dove upon Him, and then immediately Jesus was confronted with a wilderness battle with Satan. Here we have a similar pattern. The glory cloud of the Spirit surrounds Jesus, the Father speaks once more that Jesus is His beloved Son, with a summons to hear him. Then Jesus is once more confronted with a battle with a powerful demon. Both of these foreshadow the last declaration of Christ being the Son of God which Mark will present at the crucifixion. There evil shall be decisively overthrown, and then the disciples will spread out to notify all the evil throughout the world: game over.
This is a lifeline to us in our own trials. Our light and momentary trials reveal a weight of glory. Trials, hardships, and battles are not detours from the glory. They are where our faith is strengthened and the glory of Spirit-empowered obedience is revealed. Jesus faces this violent dragon which was afflicting this boy, and is able to drive this demon out because His faith in His Father’s calling upon Him was more resolute than a vice grip. The boy’s father asks Jesus, “If you can do anything, please help.” Jesus replies with another witty comeback, “If you can believe, all things are possible unto you.” If you believe, what are your trials compared with the glory? If you believe, what is the gruesome cross compared with the glory of the resurrection?
Human beings are inherently religious. We are homo adorans – worshiping man. We will either worship the Creator or some part of creation. Basing your life on some part of creation (reason, experience, science, health, pleasure) ultimately results in despair, anger, and anxiety because all of them are ultimately dependent on you and self-esteem, self-awareness, self-determination, and self-care are a backpack of bricks too heavy to bear. The weight of “self” is too heavy for any of us to carry.
Paul saw this phenomenon in Athens, and our culture is currently at “crush depth” with these mantras. But the gospel is that Jesus Christ, the Son of God, came to carry us, and He is risen from the dead.
The Text: “Now while Paul waited for them at Athens, his spirit was stirred in him, when he saw the city wholly given to idolatry…” (Acts 17:16-23).
While Paul was waiting in Athens for Silas and Timothy to arrive from Berea, He became greatly disturbed at all the idols and began debating with the Jews in the synagogue and with the Gentile God-fearers and those in the market (Acts 17:16-17). And it caught the attention of the leading philosophical schools, the Epicureans and Stoics, particularly because Paul was preaching the resurrection (Acts 17:18).
They brought Paul to the Areopagus (The Rock of Ares/Mars’ Hill) where their councils were often held and asked him to present his teaching (Acts 17:19-20). Luke adds that the Athenians were particularly anxious to know the newest theories about everything (Acts 17:21). Paul begins his speech by acknowledging that the Athenians were very religious (full of fear of the gods), citing even an altar dedicated to an unknown god, and Paul says he has come to proclaim Him to them (Acts 17:22-23).
Epicureanism and Stoicism were both philosophies of despair. Socrates was condemned to die for rejecting the gods, and Plato and Aristotle had attempted to build a transcendent basis for truth without a personal transcendent God. Epicurus (341-270 B.C.) was a materialist and a hedonist, but he meant “hedonism” as avoidance of pain and strict moderation. He saw belief in the intervention of gods and fear of death as the cause of much pain, conflict, and suffering. Epicureanism focused on the need for self-discipline to find tranquility. Zeno (334-262) founded Stoicism, teaching that the good life is lived by the virtues of wisdom, courage, temperance, and justice. Virtue is simply the highest form of the will in agreement with nature, and with self-discipline reason and logic can tap into the reason/logos of the universe. But Stoicism taught that the universe is an impersonal force governed by fate. Passions can get in the way of this virtue and reason. Seneca and Marcus Aurelius were later famous adherents.
The fundamental despair resident in both philosophies is the rejection of a knowable and personal Creator God outside of nature and the complete dependence on self to achieve happiness and peace. But apart from God and His Christ, people descend inevitably into self-obsession, anxiety, anger, and relativism.
The reason nothing in this created universe can be a sufficient god is because everything in this universe is finite and therefore cannot account for everything. The true God must be the integration point for all things. The true God must take everything into account, otherwise you are always worried that you might be missing something.
All the idols, the religious anxiety, and the obsession with novelty in Athens go together. And we live in a very similar world. The modern West has largely abandoned the old gods, but we have descended into every form of hedonism that goes with materialism, as well as various forms of fatalism (e.g. identity politics). And this makes people angry, obsessive, and insecure. Our altars are fitness clubs and “licensed therapy” counseling centers.
The human heart is restless and anxious living in God’s world without communion with Him, and we have been fed the lies of self-fulfillment, self-esteem, self-care. But we cannot be the integration point for all things. We are finite creatures, and we cannot hold it all together. We are sinners, and we are dying. But Christ “is before all things, and by Him all things consist… and He is the firstborn from the dead” (Col. 1:17-18, Heb. 1:3).
Sin is a tendency to turn away from God and ultimately inward. Augustine called it being “turned in on oneself.” And the modern world has championed this move in many ways “be yourself” and “find yourself” and “love yourself.” We live in a therapeutic and psychological age obsessed with how we feel and who we really are, that tends to create an unbearable weight. “You” are the answer, “you” are the captain of your fate, “you” are a god. And yet, you fail, you forget, you sin, and you are not very interesting.
“Self-care” has become one of the mantras of this self-centered religion and “carefulness” about everything creates anxiety, worry, and fearfulness. The opposite of “care-full” anxiety is of carefree peace and joy. But these are byproducts of worshiping God, rejoicing in the Lord, and casting your cares upon Him (because He cares for you) (1 Pet. 5:7, Phil. 4:4-9).
George MacDonald once said that the one principle of Hell is “I am my own.” But the great and freeing principle of Heaven is “You are not your own” (1 Cor. 6:19-20).