Then Jesus’ mother and brothers came to see
him. They stood outside and sent word for him to come out and talk with them. There
was a crowd sitting around Jesus, and someone said, “Your mother and your
brothers are outside asking for you.”
Jesus replied, “Who is my mother? Who are my brothers?” Then he looked at those
around him and said, “Look, these are my mother and
brothers. Anyone who does God’s will is my brother and
sister and mother.” (Mark 3:31-35)
Give me a word picture to describe a relative in your life who really
bugs you. A parasite, perhaps? – your wife has this brother who never works and
always expects you and your family to provide. Or, a cactus wearing a silk blouse?
– she looks nice and everyone thinks she’s the greatest, but get close to her
and she is prickly, dry and thirsty for life. Maybe a marble column –
dignified, noble, but high and hard. That’s how it can be sometimes with
difficult relatives. Stuck to someone with whom we can’t communicate. And it’s
not as if they’re a neighbor from whom you could move away, or an employee you could
fire. They’re family. And you can choose your friends, but you can’t … well,
you know the rest. Odds are, you probably know that expression very well.
Maybe you’ve got
someone like that in your life – someone you can’t talk to but can’t walk away
from. A mother who whines, or an uncle who slurps his soup, or a sister who
flaunts her figure. A dad who’s still waiting for you to get a real job, or a
mother-in-law who wonders why her daughter married you. Sticky wicket relationships
— stuck together but falling apart. It’s like being in a crammed elevator –
people thrust together by chance on a short ride, saying as little as possible.
The only difference is you’ll eventually get off the elevator and never see them
again — not so with the difficult relative. Family reunions, Christmas,
Thanksgiving, weddings, funerals. They’ll be there. And you’ll be there sorting
through the tough questions. Why does life get so relatively difficult? If we
expect anyone to be sensitive to our needs, it’s our family members isn’t it?
When we hurt physically, we want our family to respond. When we struggle
emotionally, we want our family to know. But sometimes they act like they don’t
know. And sometimes they even act like they don’t care.
In her book, Irregular People, Joyce Landorf tells of
a woman in her thirties who learned that she had breast cancer which would
require a mastectomy. She and her mother seldom communicated, so the daughter
was apprehensive about telling her. One day over lunch, however, she decided to
reveal the news. “Mother, I just learned that I am going to have a mastectomy.”
The mother was silent. The daughter asked her if she’d heard what she’d said.
The mother nodded affirmatively. Then she calmly dismissed the subject by
saying, “You know your sister has the best recipe for chicken enchiladas.” What
can you do when those closest to you keep their distance? When you can get
along with others, but you can’t get along with your relatives? Does Jesus have
anything to say about dealing with difficult relatives? Is there an example of
Jesus bringing peace to a painful family? Yes, there is. His own.
It may surprise
you, but Jesus had a difficult family. Maybe it surprises you to know that
Jesus had a family at all; you may not be aware that Jesus had brothers and
sisters. Well, he did. Quoting Jesus’ hometown critics, Mark wrote, “[Jesus] is
just the carpenter, the son of Mary and the brother of James, Joseph, Judas,
and Simon. And his sisters are here with us.” (Mark 6:3) It may even shock you
to know that his family was less than perfect. But they were. So, if your
family doesn’t appreciate you, take heart, neither did Jesus’. In fact, here’s
Jesus’ conclusion on life in the neighborhood: “A prophet is honored everywhere
except in his hometown and with his own people and in his own home.” (Mark 6:4)
I wonder what he
meant when he said those last five words – and
in his own home. Because he went to the synagogue where he was asked to
speak. And the people were proud that this hometown boy had done well — until
they heard what he said. He referred to himself as the Messiah, the one to
fulfill prophecy. Their response? “Isn’t this Joseph’s son?” Translation? This
is no Messiah. He’s just like us! He’s the plumber’s kid from down the street.
He’s the accountant on the third floor. He’s the construction worker who used
to date my sister. God doesn’t speak through familiar people, especially
through some Jewish kid who grew up in our own back yard. One minute he’s a
hero, the next he’s a heretic. And then look at what happens next. “But when they heard this, everyone in the synagogue was furiously
angry. They sprang to their feet and drove him right out of the town, taking
him to the brow of the hill on which it was built, intending to hurl him down
bodily. But he walked straight through the whole crowd and went on his way.”
(Luke 4:29–30)
What an ugly
moment. Jesus’ neighborhood friends tried to kill him. But even uglier than
what we see is what we don’t see. Notice what’s missing from this verse. Note
what words should be there, but aren’t. “They intended to hurl him down bodily
(from the brow of the hill, i.e., cliff),
but Jesus’ brothers came and defended him.” We’d like to read that, but we
can’t because it doesn’t say that. That’s not what happened. When Jesus was in
trouble, his brothers were either not around or, worse yet, part of the mob. They
weren’t always invisible, though. There was a time when they spoke. There was a
time when they were seen with him in public. Not because they were proud of him
but because they were ashamed of him. “His family … went to get him because
they thought he was out of his mind.” (Mark 3:21). Jesus’ siblings thought
their brother was a lunatic. They weren’t proud — they were embarrassed! “He’s
off the deep end, Mom. You should hear what people are saying about him.” “People
say he’s crazy.” “Yeah, somebody asked me why we don’t do something about him.”
“It’s a good thing Dad isn’t around to see what Jesus is doing.”
Hurtful words
spoken by those closest to Jesus. But it gets worse, because here’s some more: So Jesus’ brothers said to him, “You should
leave here and go to Judea so your followers there can see the miracles you do.
Anyone who wants to be well known does not hide what he does. If you are doing
these things, show yourself to the world.” (Even Jesus’ brothers did not
believe in him.) (John 7:3–5) Listen to the sarcasm in those words. They
drip with ridicule. How does Jesus put up with these morons? How can you
believe in yourself when those who know you best don’t? How can you move
forward when your family wants to pull you back? Or worse yet, want to commit
you! When you and your family have two different agendas, what do you do? Fortunately,
Jesus gives us some answers.
It’s worth
noting that he didn’t try to control his family’s behavior, nor did he let
their behavior control his own. He didn’t demand that they agree with him. He
didn’t sulk when they insulted him. He didn’t make it his mission to try to
please them. I think a lot of us have a fantasy that our family will be like
the Walton’s, an expectation that our dearest friends will be our next of kin.
Jesus didn’t have that expectation. Look how he defined his family: “Look, these are my mother and
brothers. Anyone
who does God’s will is my brother and sister and mother.” (Mark
3:35) When Jesus’ brothers didn’t share his convictions, he didn’t try to force
them. He recognized that his spiritual family could provide what his physical
family did not. The fact is, if Jesus himself couldn’t force his family to
share his convictions, what makes you think you can force your own?
We can’t control
the way our family responds to us. When it comes to the behavior of others
toward us, our hands are tied. We have to move beyond the naive expectation
that if we do good, people will treat us right. They may. And, then again, they
may not. We can’t control how people respond to us. If your brother’s a jerk,
you could be the world’s best sister and he still won’t tell you so. If your
aunt doesn’t like your career, you could change jobs a dozen times and still
never satisfy her. If your sister is always complaining about what you got and
she didn’t, you could give her everything and she still may not change. As long
as you think you can control people’s behavior toward you, you are held in
bondage by their opinions. If you think you can control their opinion, and
their opinion isn’t positive, then guess who you have to blame? Yourself. It’s
a game with unfair rules and fatal finishes. Jesus didn’t play it, nor should we.
We don’t know if
Joseph affirmed his son Jesus in his ministry — but we know God did: “This is
my Son, whom I love, and I am very pleased with him.” (Matt. 3:17) I can’t
assure you that your family will ever give you the blessing you seek, but God
will. Let God give you what your family doesn’t. If your earthly father doesn’t
affirm you, then let your heavenly Father take his place. How do you do that?
By emotionally accepting God as your father. You see, it’s one thing to accept
him as Lord, another to recognize him as Savior — but it’s another matter altogether
to accept him as Father. To recognize God as Lord is to acknowledge that he is
sovereign and supreme in the universe. To accept him as Savior is to accept his
gift of salvation offered on the cross. But to regard him as Father is to go a
step further. Ideally, a father is the one in your life who provides and
protects. And that’s exactly what God has done.
He has provided
for your needs. (Matt. 6:25–34) He has protected you from harm. (Ps. 139:5) He
has adopted you. (Eph. 1:5) And he has given you his name. (1 John 3:1) God has
proven himself a faithful father. Now, it falls upon each of us to be trusting
children. Let God give you what your family doesn’t. Let him fill the void
others have left. Rely upon him for your affirmation and encouragement. Look at
Paul’s words: “You are God’s child, and God will give you the blessing he
promised, because you are his child.” (Gal. 4:7) Having your family’s approval
is desirable but not necessary for happiness, and not always possible. Jesus
did not let the difficult dynamic of his family overshadow his call from God.
And because he didn’t, the chapter has a happy ending. So, what happened to
Jesus’ family?
“Then [the
disciples] went back to Jerusalem from the Mount of Olives .… They all
continued praying together with some women, including Mary the mother of Jesus,
and Jesus’ brothers.” (Acts 1:12, 14)
Wow, what a
change! The ones who mocked him now worship him. The ones who pitied him now
pray for him. What if Jesus had disowned them? Or worse yet, what if he’d
suffocated his family with his demand for change? He didn’t. He gave them
space, time and grace instead. And because he did, they changed. How much did
they change? Well, one brother became an apostle (Gal. 1:19), and others became
missionaries. (1 Cor. 9:5) So, don’t lose heart. God still changes families. They’re
like flowers in a bouquet: there's always one determined to face in an opposite
direction from the way the Arranger intended.
Grace,
Randy
No comments:
Post a Comment