The Mine That Bids, "Keep Digging!"
To ease my transition into high school, I remember that my parents paid for a class designed for that purpose. Ironically, I was introduced to the lady who would later serve as my junior English teacher of daunting reputation in that non-threatening role. One morning, she asked us to list all the similarities we could think of between laughter and peanuts. Her next instruction was what stuck with me, though. She said, keep listing. She said on a similar thought exercise that her husband came up with a possibility he really liked, and stopped. Thus, in self-satisfaction, he perhaps deprived himself of an even better idea.
I can do that. I can stop digging and start polishing even on ground as rich as the Bible where so many have gained so much from persevering excavation. Accordingly, I've been fascinated with the explanation I came to of a parable in Luke 17 with which I have historically had difficulty. I haven't been able to see Jesus' point in launching into verses six through 10 in which He reminds His disciples of the normal relationships between masters and servants. Masters normally demand. Servants normally serve. Don't expect a thank you. Don't pass go. Don't collect $200. Jesus concludes the parable with something of an expositional thud in verse 10 when He says, “So likewise you, when you have done all those things which you are commanded, say, ‘We are unprofitable servants. We have done what was our duty to do.’ ”
How do we reconcile that "because-I-said-so" Jesus with the One Who, in fact, rejoices in the Spirit most unlike a curmudgeon when His disciples obey, according to Luke 10:21? How do we make sense of the fact that He, apparently, in Luke 17 puts himself in the costume of the cold master when He says in Revelation 22:12 that He is coming and bringing a reward for obedience? The piece snapped into place and gave a more amazing picture of relationship with Him when I considered the context.
Jesus gives the story of the businesslike relationship between the servant and the master in response to the disciples asking him for more faith so they can continue to forgive each other seven times a day for seven days as He insists in the fourth verse of that chapter. They ask, it seems to me, for decades of faith in advance of the ongoing trial of putting up with each other. Likening faith to a mustard seed and then setting up the master-servant parable to illustrate resets what faith is and how it is supplied. Venture to do what I say, Jesus insists, and you will have the faith to do it. Looking to be supplied up front is rarely how things work, even when the differences between human master and servant are much smaller than those between God Man and His novitiate followers.
I've gotten enough approval as I have shared that explanation like a finger painter proud of his masterpiece that for a week or so, I stopped looking. In Heavenly irony, it was in crowing this exposition to get more approval that the Master Teacher whispered in my ear as only He can: "What if I am also the Servant? What if your role, or any human role, is decidedly supporting compared to what I am showing about Me? If you can recognize Rich Little, or Eddie Murphy, or Tyler Perry, in multiple roles in the same movie and admire, why not look in the faces of both Master and Servant at the aspect of Me? You are, after all, extras in My movie."
Back to the drawing board, but this time with excitement besetting my true status as an ever-beginning wonderer at the unfolding glory of God. Picture it from another angle. The Servant expects to pour out, to expend Himself for reward later. Christ went to the cross for the joy set before Him, explores Hebrews 12:2. What does that glory, that reward, that demonstration of Christ's character going public look like? Like the Servant's meal comes after His labor, so Jesus enters His Passion with the resolve of Matthew: 26:29, deferring current gratification in anticipation of a meal with, gulp, us in His Kingdom.
So how does Jesus in the role of perfect Servant also answer the disciples' presenting problem of believing they need an increase in faith? The Servant binds Himself to meet expectations. Jesus the perfect Servant will enter into "of course" mode again when He talks about His followers needing a fitting dwelling with Him. If it were not so, He says in Jon 14:2 with the perfect, proprietary Jesus blend of Master and Servant, I would have told you. Of course you will have the faith you need. If it were not so, I would have told you. If you as fine diner can assume your waiter will bring you food, why would you not assume I will keep supplying your faith?
If we need richer fare than this instance that the Lord of all insists that He will be known for supplying our lack, it is the pervasive extent to which He does this. If I supply you water or wine, He explains, you will be thirsty again. Yet I'll do it. If I supply bread, you'll get hungry again. You might even have the nerve to start calling you your daily bread, but I like the sound of that. The marvel of this passage on this day is that it slakes thirst at least twice over and remains full, banishes every thought of hunger and remains the Bread of the Presence fresh out of the oven. What a perpetual banquet is the Word of God!
I can do that. I can stop digging and start polishing even on ground as rich as the Bible where so many have gained so much from persevering excavation. Accordingly, I've been fascinated with the explanation I came to of a parable in Luke 17 with which I have historically had difficulty. I haven't been able to see Jesus' point in launching into verses six through 10 in which He reminds His disciples of the normal relationships between masters and servants. Masters normally demand. Servants normally serve. Don't expect a thank you. Don't pass go. Don't collect $200. Jesus concludes the parable with something of an expositional thud in verse 10 when He says, “So likewise you, when you have done all those things which you are commanded, say, ‘We are unprofitable servants. We have done what was our duty to do.’ ”
How do we reconcile that "because-I-said-so" Jesus with the One Who, in fact, rejoices in the Spirit most unlike a curmudgeon when His disciples obey, according to Luke 10:21? How do we make sense of the fact that He, apparently, in Luke 17 puts himself in the costume of the cold master when He says in Revelation 22:12 that He is coming and bringing a reward for obedience? The piece snapped into place and gave a more amazing picture of relationship with Him when I considered the context.
Jesus gives the story of the businesslike relationship between the servant and the master in response to the disciples asking him for more faith so they can continue to forgive each other seven times a day for seven days as He insists in the fourth verse of that chapter. They ask, it seems to me, for decades of faith in advance of the ongoing trial of putting up with each other. Likening faith to a mustard seed and then setting up the master-servant parable to illustrate resets what faith is and how it is supplied. Venture to do what I say, Jesus insists, and you will have the faith to do it. Looking to be supplied up front is rarely how things work, even when the differences between human master and servant are much smaller than those between God Man and His novitiate followers.
I've gotten enough approval as I have shared that explanation like a finger painter proud of his masterpiece that for a week or so, I stopped looking. In Heavenly irony, it was in crowing this exposition to get more approval that the Master Teacher whispered in my ear as only He can: "What if I am also the Servant? What if your role, or any human role, is decidedly supporting compared to what I am showing about Me? If you can recognize Rich Little, or Eddie Murphy, or Tyler Perry, in multiple roles in the same movie and admire, why not look in the faces of both Master and Servant at the aspect of Me? You are, after all, extras in My movie."
Back to the drawing board, but this time with excitement besetting my true status as an ever-beginning wonderer at the unfolding glory of God. Picture it from another angle. The Servant expects to pour out, to expend Himself for reward later. Christ went to the cross for the joy set before Him, explores Hebrews 12:2. What does that glory, that reward, that demonstration of Christ's character going public look like? Like the Servant's meal comes after His labor, so Jesus enters His Passion with the resolve of Matthew: 26:29, deferring current gratification in anticipation of a meal with, gulp, us in His Kingdom.
So how does Jesus in the role of perfect Servant also answer the disciples' presenting problem of believing they need an increase in faith? The Servant binds Himself to meet expectations. Jesus the perfect Servant will enter into "of course" mode again when He talks about His followers needing a fitting dwelling with Him. If it were not so, He says in Jon 14:2 with the perfect, proprietary Jesus blend of Master and Servant, I would have told you. Of course you will have the faith you need. If it were not so, I would have told you. If you as fine diner can assume your waiter will bring you food, why would you not assume I will keep supplying your faith?
If we need richer fare than this instance that the Lord of all insists that He will be known for supplying our lack, it is the pervasive extent to which He does this. If I supply you water or wine, He explains, you will be thirsty again. Yet I'll do it. If I supply bread, you'll get hungry again. You might even have the nerve to start calling you your daily bread, but I like the sound of that. The marvel of this passage on this day is that it slakes thirst at least twice over and remains full, banishes every thought of hunger and remains the Bread of the Presence fresh out of the oven. What a perpetual banquet is the Word of God!
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