Kingdom

Kingdom

The disciples of John the Baptist told John about everything Jesus was doing. So John called for two of his disciples, and he sent them to the Lord to ask him, “Are you the Messiah we’ve been expecting, or should we keep looking for someone else?”

John’s two disciples found Jesus and said to him, “John the Baptist sent us to ask, ‘Are you the Messiah we’ve been expecting, or should we keep looking for someone else?’”

At that very time, Jesus cured many people of their diseases, illnesses, and evil spirits, and he restored sight to many who were blind. Then he told John’s disciples, “Go back to John and tell him what you have seen and heard — the blind see, the lame walk, the lepers are cured, the deaf hear, the dead are raised to life, and the Good News is being preached to the poor. And tell him, ‘God blesses those who do not turn away because of me.’ (Luke 7:18-23)

No one was more shunned by their culture than the blind, the lame, the lepers and the deaf. They had no place to live. No name. No value. They were like canker sores on the culture. Or, like excess baggage thrown to the side of the road. But rather than calling them trash, Jesus called them treasures.

In our hall closet hangs a sweater that I never wear. It’s too small. The sleeves are too short, the shoulders too tight, and the thread is a little frazzled. I should probably just give that sweater away. I have no personal use for it. Logic says I should clear out the space and get rid of the sweater. That’s what logic says. But love won’t let me.

There’s just something unique about that sweater makes me keep it. What’s so unusual about it? Well, for one thing, it has no label. Nowhere on the garment will you find a tag that reads, “Made in Taiwan,” or “Wash in Cold Water.” It has no tag because it wasn’t made in a factory. It has no label because it wasn’t produced on some mass assembly line. It isn’t the product of some nameless, big company employee simply trying to make a living. And though the sweater has lost its use, it hasn’t lost its value. It’s valuable not because of its function, but because of its owner – my dad’s letterman sweater.

It reminds me of what the psalmist had in mind when he wrote, “you knit me together in my mother’s womb.” (Psalm 139:13)

Think on those words for a minute. You were knitted together. You aren’t an accident. You weren’t mass-produced. You aren’t an assembly-line product. You were deliberately planned, specifically gifted and lovingly positioned on this earth by the Master Craftsman.

“For we are God’s workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.” (Ephesians 2:10)

In a society that has little room for second fiddles, that’s really good news. In a culture where the door of opportunity opens only once and then slams shut, that’s a revelation. In a system that ranks the value of a human being by his salary, or the shape of her legs . . . . Let me tell you something: Jesus’ plan is a reason for joy!

Jesus told John that a new kingdom was coming — a kingdom where people have value not because of what they do, but because of whose they are.

The year 1899 marked the deaths of two very well-known men — Dwight L. Moody, the acclaimed evangelist, and Robert Ingersoll, a very famous lawyer, orator and political leader.

The two men had many similarities. Both were raised in Christian homes. Both were skilled orators. Both traveled extensively and were widely respected. Both drew immense crowds when they spoke, and each attracted loyal followings. But there was one striking difference between them — their view of God.

Ingersoll was an agnostic and a follower of naturalism; he had no belief in the eternal, but stressed the importance of living only in the here and now. Ingersoll made light of the Bible, stating that “free thought will give us truth.” To him the Bible was “a fable, an obscenity, a humbug, a sham and a lie.” He was a bold spokesman against the Christian faith. He claimed that a Christian “creed [was] the ignorant past bullying the enlightened present.”

Ingersoll’s contemporary, Dwight L. Moody, on the other hand, had different convictions. He dedicated his life to presenting a resurrected King to a dying people. He embraced the Bible as the hope for humanity, and the cross as the turning point of history. He left behind a legacy of written and spoken words, institutions of education, churches and changed lives.

Two men. Both powerful speakers. Both influential leaders. One rejected God; the other embraced him. And, perhaps, the impact of their decisions is seen most clearly in the way they died. Read how one biographer paralleled the two deaths:

Ingersoll died suddenly. The news of his death stunned his family. His body was kept at home for several days because his wife was reluctant to part with it. It was eventually removed for the sake of the family’s health.

Ingersoll’s remains were cremated, and the public response to his passing was a yawn. For a man who put all of his hopes on this world, death was tragic and came without the consolation of any hope at all.

Moody’s legacy was different. On December 22, 1899, Moody woke up to his last winter dawn. Having weakened substantially during the night, he began to speak in slow, measured words: “Earth recedes, heaven opens before me!” His son Will, who was nearby, hurried across the room to his father’s side, thinking his dad was hallucinating.

“Father, you’re dreaming,” he said. “No. This is no dream, Will,” Moody said, “It is beautiful. It is like a trance. If this is death, it is sweet. God is calling me, and I must go. Don’t call me back.” At that point, the family gathered around, and moments later the great evangelist died. It was his coronation day — a day he had looked forward to for many years. He was with his Lord.

The funeral service of Dwight L. Moody reflected that same confidence. There was no despair. Loved ones gathered to sing praise to God at a triumphant home-going service. Many remembered the words the evangelist had spoken earlier that year in New York City: “Someday you will read in the papers that Moody is dead. Don’t you believe a word of it. At that moment I shall be more alive than I am now . . . . I was born of the flesh in 1837; I was born of the Spirit in 1855. That which is born of the flesh may die. That which is born of the Spirit shall live forever.”

Jesus looked into the eyes of John’s followers and gave them this message: “Go back to John and tell him . . . the dead are raised to life.” Jesus wasn’t oblivious to John’s imprisonment. He wasn’t blind to John’s captivity. But he was dealing with a greater dungeon than Herod’s; he was dealing with the dungeon of death.

But Jesus wasn’t through. He passed along one other message to clear the cloud of doubt from John’s heart: “The good news is being preached to the poor.”

Many years ago, long before 9/11, I was late to catch a plane out of Portland. I wasn’t terribly late, but I was late enough to be bumped and they’d apparently given my seat to a stand-by passenger. When the ticket agent told me that I would have to miss the flight, I went lawyer on her and gave her a very compelling final argument.

“But the flight hasn’t left yet, right?” “Yes, but you got here too late.” “I got here before the plane left. So, is that too late?” “The regulation says you must arrive ten minutes before the flight is scheduled to depart, and that was two minutes ago.” “But, ma’am,” I pleaded, “I’ve got to get back to San Diego.” She was patient, but firm. “I’m sorry, sir, but the rules say passengers must be at the gate ten minutes before the scheduled departure time.” “I know what the rules say,” I explained. “but I’m not asking for justice; I’m just asking for a little mercy.”

She didn’t give it to me, and I had to take the next flight home.

But God does. Even though by the “book” I’m guilty, by God’s love I get another chance. Even though by the law I’m indicted, by mercy I’m given a fresh start. “For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith … not by works, so that no one can boast.” (Ephesians 2:8-9)

No other world religion offers such a message. All other religions demand the right performance, the right sacrifice, the right chant, the right ritual, the right séance or the right experience. Theirs is a kingdom of trade-offs and bartering. You do this, and God will give you that. The result? Either arrogance or fear. Arrogance if you think you’ve achieved it; fear if you think you haven’t.

Christ’s kingdom is just the opposite. It’s a kingdom for the poor. A kingdom where membership is granted, not purchased. You are placed into God’s kingdom. You are “adopted.” And this occurs not when you do enough, but when you admit that you can’t do enough. You don’t earn it; you simply accept it. And the result? You serve, not out of arrogance or fear, but out of gratitude.

Some time ago I read a story of a woman who for years was married to a very harsh husband, and that’s putting it nicely. Each day he would leave her a list of chores to complete before he got home from work. “Clean the yard. Stack the firewood. Wash the windows,” etc. And if she didn’t complete the tasks before her husband got home, she would be met with his explosive anger. And even when she did complete the list, he was never satisfied; he would always find inadequacies in her work. Always.

After several years, her husband died. Time passed and she later remarried, but this time to a man who lavished her with tenderness and adoration. One day, while going through a box of old papers, the wife discovered one of her first husband’s dreaded lists. And as she read the sheet, a realization caused a tear of joy to splash onto the list. “I’m still doing all of these things, but no one has to tell me. I do them because I love him.”

That’s the unique characteristic of God’s kingdom. Its subjects don’t work in order to go to heaven; they work because they’re going to heaven. Arrogance and fear are replaced with gratitude and joy.

But before we can pray, “Lord, thy kingdom come,” we must be willing to pray, “My kingdom go.” And that’s important because if we haven’t chosen the kingdom of God first, it will make no difference what we’ve chosen instead.

Grace,

Randy