“Why the Calling of the 12 Apostles is About Much More than the Calling of the 12 Apostles”

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Before we look at this week’s scripture, we need to remember:

The Bible was not originally divided into chapters, verses, or sections, nor did it have section headings or titles. In fact, if you looked at the original text, you would see that it was simply one enormously long string of letters, without so much as a single punctuation mark or space between words!

Why is this important? Most publishers split todays’ scripture into three parts—two chapters and three sections. If we take the publisher’s organization to be God’s divine structure, then we miss the continuity across the whole passage—and thus we miss the point of it, too. We might conclude, as many artists have over the centuries, that the selection and sending of the apostles was a formal and self-contained occasion—rather than (as the scripture shows us) a revelation of a particularly deep and recurring theme in God’s character.

With that in mind, and with our finger blotting out the section titles and chapter divisions, our scripture for the week is:

Matthew 9:35-10:8

If we read all three parts together as one episode, we understand that Jesus sent out the twelve disciples specifically because he had compassion on the crowds who were always trailing after him. Matthew 9:36 says that Jesus saw the crowds as “sheep without a shepherd”—a phrase which reveals much about God’s character.

First, it reveals that Jesus is God. Why? Because throughout the Old Testament, God keeps bringing up this very point again and again and again: The people whom God appoints to watch over his sheep are either asleep or running away at the first sign of danger. This lament can be found as early as Numbers 27:17 and continuing on in Kings 22:17 and Ezekiel 34:5. God keeps bringing it up.

Remember, the Bible was not written to be a series of stories. The Bible was inspired by God to be a continuous revelation of God’s character. So just because Numbers ends does not mean that the story ends with it. When Jesus looks upon the crowds and sees them as sheep without a shepherd, it is not an isolated event but the continuation of a millennia-old divine beef. Jesus’ compassion is built upon the anguish and compassion that God has always felt about the poor shepherding of his people—and which God will always feel about his people.

If sheep are left alone, they wander. Wandering sheep are a danger to themselves: they can fall into deep chasms or be eaten by wild beasts. A wandering sheep is never safe.

Thus, God turns to his appointed shepherds. He appointed them, but they are not looking after his people. This is one of God’s deepest ongoing concerns: not that his people be “happy” but that they be properly shepherded.

If you have ever watched a shepherd at work, you know that keeping a sheep safe does not mean keeping the sheep happy or in love with the shepherd. Shepherds even use dogs to frighten sheep into staying in a safe area. They use staves or crooks to yank the sheep back into place. If a sheep repeatedly wanders away, a shepherd may break the sheep’s leg. The shepherd will then keep the sheep close to him as it heals, so that the sheep may become accustomed to his presence.

In many cases, the sheep he watches over might not belong to him. Despite this, he will constantly put himself in harm’s way to ensure the sheep’s safety.

In the Old Testament, we read that King David was “a man after [God’s] own heart” (1 Samuel 13:14). Part of the reason for this is because King David began life as a shepherd. In 1 Samuel 17:34-35, David tells Saul about his life as a shepherd:

I used to keep sheep for my father. And when there came a lion, or a bear, and took a lamb from the flock, I went after him and struck him and delivered it out of his mouth. And if he arose against me, I caught him by his beard and struck him and killed him.

Whenever a wild animal attacked the sheep, David would come between the creature and his sheep. He would hazard his own life to save his father’s sheep. This was why when God saw David, he said, “This is the man I want in charge of my people.” This was why the Bible says that David has God’s own heart.

How do we know? Because when God became man, this was exactly what he did for us.

This is God’s leadership standard for anyone: the pastor, the youth leader, the politician, the mother, and even the friend. Over our lifetime, God entrusts a myriad of people—his people—to our care. He gives us family members, friends, and co-workers. He does not give us these people to benefit us. We are not supposed to use them to please ourselves or submit ourselves to please them. They were given to us to shepherd: God wants us to keep them on the narrow path to him.

If they wander, we are expected to grab our shepherd’s crook and drag them back. “The Lord holds me accountable for your wellbeing,” we need to tell them. “And I’m willing to lay down my life for that.”

This highest standard of care arises from God’s heart. In fact, in Ezekiel 34:25, God becomes so frustrated with human leaders that he promises, “I myself will tend to my sheep and have them lie down.”

Then Jesus comes.

“I am the good shepherd,” Jesus says (John 10:11). When Jesus says this, he isn’t just painting a pretty metaphor: he’s revealing that he is God.

In the Old Testament, God promised that he would shepherd over Israel. Now he is here—in the form of a man—and this is exactly what he is doing in our scripture this week.

Immediately before the scripture this week, Jesus was teaching in the Synagogue. The religious leaders had seen him strengthen the legs of a paralyzed man, raise a girl from the dead, give sight to two blind men, and, most recently, heal a demon-oppressed man. Yet they muttered, “He does this through the devil” (Matthew 9:34).

The religious leaders, who God had charged with leading people to him, could not recognize God—even when he stood right in front of them. They even said he was in league with the devil!

Yet wherever Jesus went, God’s people followed.

When Jesus saw these people, he was “moved with compassion” (Matthew 9:34). The original Greek is much more graphic: When Jesus saw the crowds, his guts twisted in pain. What Jesus felt was much deeper than compassion. Because of this gut-wrenching instinct, he ordered his twelve closest followers out on the road.

The “Sending of the Twelve” was not a glorious and formal affair. There was no ceremony on the mountaintop. It was instead an event birthed in the deep, biting pain that Christ felt upon seeing his lost sheep. It was more like an emergency than a graduation ceremony. Jesus barked out rapid-fire instructions: “Heal the sick, raise the dead, cleanse the lepers, and cast out demons” (Matthew 10:8).

Then Jesus reminds us of a crucial truth: “You received without paying; give without pay” (Matthew 10:8). In other words, never forget that everything you have came from me. If God tells us to go out—if God entrusts us with people—it does not mean that we have special standing or that we should be treated well, or that we should expect anything (like sheep-gratitude) in return.

More than anyone, we leaders should be humble. We should know that everything that is given to us comes from Christ and that Christ is the shepherd—not us. We are sheep. Sheep who have travelled with the shepherd long enough to recognize his voice, but sheep first and last.

If we are only sheep, how can we possibly lead other sheep?

Think about cows that live on a farm. Every morning, a bell is rung and the cows are released into the grazing lands. Without the urging of the rancher, the cows walk out to the pasture in a long and tidy line. Why? Because the cows leading the line have followed the rancher to the pasture so many times that they know where the pasture is and why they are headed there.

Notice, the lead cow does not snap orders at the other cows. He does not have a special costume or live in a special barn. He does not demand that other cows bow down to him. He simply knows where he is going and why. As Christian leaders, all we are is the lead cow. We are in front because we have travelled this path for so long, not because we are more worthy or holy.

Christ has returned to shepherd his people. He has reached out to us and walked with us. Because he has walked with us, he expects us to lead others along this path as well. However, we should know that leading others along this path will cost us everything—just as it cost Christ everything to lead us.

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The Great Commission or the Great Claim?

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Matthew 28:16-20

Today’s scripture is one of the most monumental—and controversial—scriptures in the entire Bible. Or, rather, it would be, if we truly took seriously what Jesus is claiming.

Most modern Christians refer to this scripture by the name, “the Great Commission.” That is because when we read this scripture, we focus on what Christ commands us to do:

Therefore, go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey all I have commanded you (Matthew 28:19).

This command is important. It’s the reason I’m writing this post from Korea, for example. But focusing on the commission as the main point of this passage is a fairly modern misunderstanding. For the first 1,800 years of church history, no one referred to this scripture by that title.

And that’s preferable. Because as we’ve learned, scripture isn’t written as a revelation of ethics. Instead, it is written as a revelation of God’s character. When we read the scripture, then, we do well to focus first on who God is and what God does, before we ever turn our attention to us.

When we focus on God in Christ in this passage, we find what may truly be the most astonishing claim in scripture:

“All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me,” Christ claims (Matthew 28:18).

Note Jesus’ use of the word, all. Jesus claims to have all authority in heaven and on earth. He doesn’t claim to have “more authority than many others” or “a lot of influence.” He doesn’t even say, “In the future I will have all authority.” He says that all authority presently rests in his hands.

This means that Jesus is as much in charge of North Korea as he is in charge of your church.

“How can that be?” we ask. “People starve to death in North Korea! Christians are persecuted! Homeless orphans freeze overnight! What kind of God would choose to allow these atrocities despite having the authority and power to fix them!”

This question shows us that we’re on the right track. Why? It’s a question that God’s people ask time and time again in scripture (Revelation 6:10, Habakkuk 1:2, Psalm 13:1), with his encouragement: “Lord, why do you let the unjust flourish? Why will you not return to judge the world and make it right?”

Note that none of these authors doubt that God is fully in charge. In fact, it is because they know that God has full authority that they are troubled by the choices he is making.

“Why do you abandon us?” they ask. “Why don’t you avenge us?”

For much of church history, this claim has been the focus of Matthew 28:16-20—not verse 18. This is why, historically, when Christians have been persecuted and imprisoned, many respond with cheer and goodwill rather than fear—they know that Christ has all authority. Instead of titling this passage “the Great Commission,” then, we might consider calling it “the Great Claim!”

Nonetheless, this is a heavy claim to bear. Many of us may be tempted to walk away and say, “I love God, I believe Jesus rose from the dead, and I believe the world was created by God’s hand—but this I can’t believe.”

But we can’t walk away from it. This claim is fundamental to the Christian faith. We can believe that God created the world, that Jesus is the son of God, that Jesus’ blood washed away our sins and that Jesus rose from the dead. However, if we do not believe that Jesus possesses all authority on heaven and earth, we cannot call ourselves Christian.

Why?

If we do not believe that Jesus possesses all authority, then we are worshipping a different God than the faithful church that came before us—and a different God from the God of the Bible.

Scripture and church history concur with us on this point. Jesus tells us that he “hold[s] the key to death and Hades” (Revelation 1:18). Peter tells us that God allows us to suffer for a little while—then lifts us up (1 Peter 5:10). Paul reminds us that God perfectly molded us (and the world around us) in the way that he wished, and that it is silly for us to complain otherwise (Romans 9:19-21). Early Christians “turned the world upside down” by professing a power greater than Caesar (Acts 17:6-7). During the Japanese occupation, many Korean Christians refused to bow to a portrait of the Japanese emperor because they knew God was the true sovereign.

But then how can he be a God that allows suffering? How did the early church understand this aspect of his character in a way that allowed them to rejoice in the midst of persecution?

The first thing we need to remember is that God does not ask for us to understand him.

“My thoughts are not your thoughts,” God says in Isaiah 55:8. “Neither are my ways your ways.”

Sometimes we think of God as a president; we think that he has a responsibility to follow our agendas of right and wrong. When we pray, we come to him like a lobbyist: Lord, I think we should get rid of communism, and here’s why; Lord, I think that all countries in the Middle East should become democracies and here’s why; Lord, I think that my candidate should be president and here’s why. This is perhaps because we have short memories: the reason why the world is in turmoil is because of our own corrupt sense of “right” and “wrong”.

God doesn’t desire for us to suffer, but it is something he allows to happen. Suffering is a byproduct of free will: With every breath, human beings are given the choice to bring healing to the world or extend suffering. We often choose the latter, and God allows us this. The most amazing thing, however, is that God manages to bend even our most heinous actions toward his purpose.

Individuals in scripture understand this. Furthermore, they know that God is fully capable of ending everything at any point in time. Their question is why God doesn’t just do this. As the saints shout out in Revelation 6:10, “O Sovereign Lord, holy and true, how long before you judge and avenge our blood on those who dwell on earth?”

In other words, given that God has ultimate authority, why doesn’t he choose to end suffering by ending the world and reigning in his promised judgement?

Any Christian family with a child who has fallen away from Christ can give you the answer: because there are still people to save.

Saying that Jesus loves his enemies is too tame a phrase. Jesus is the good shepherd who will leave behind ninety-nine sheep to search out one lost sheep (Luke 15:1-7); he is the woman who leaves no cushion unturned when searching for a lost coin (Luke 15:8-10); he is the father who ran and embraced the son who severely mistreated him (Luke 15:11-24); and he is the son of God who suffered death on behalf of his enemies. All authority on heaven and earth has been given to Jesus, and he uses this authority to reach out to his enemies.

And he uses us to do this.

“Now go,” he tells us, “unto all nations, and proclaim the gospel to the whole creation.”

But Jesus doesn’t leave us to do this work alone. In verse 20, Jesus makes a promise to us that God has only made to the Abrahams, the Moseses, the Joshuas, and the Jeremiahs of Bible: “I am with you always, to the very end of the age” (Matthew 28:20).

When we take the gospel to God’s enemies, we will be humiliated, we will be attacked and we will suffer. But we will also have Christ with us—the very same Christ who was humiliated, attacked, and suffered on our behalf.

After all, if Christ had listened to the words of the saints and ended the world when they thought was right, none of the rest of us would have been saved.

 

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Why The Bible Will Always Lead Us Underground: An Excerpt from Living in the Underground Church

 

One day there came into one of the mission stations a sturdy Christian from the north. After the usual greetings, he was asked the purpose of his visit. His reply was, “I have been memorizing some verses in the Bible, and have come to recite them for you.” He lived a hundred miles away, and had walked all that distance, traveling four nights—a long stroll to recite some verses of Scripture to his pastor, but he was listened to as he recited in Korean, without a verbal error, the entire Sermon on the Mount. He was told that if he simply memorized it, it would be a feat of memory and nothing more; he must practice its teachings. His face lit up with a smile as he promptly replied: “That is the way I learned it. I tried to memorize it, but it wouldn’t stick, so I hit on this plan. I would memorize a verse and then find a heathen neighbor of mine and practice the verse on him. Then I found it would stick.”[1]

What is the Christian life? What is the simplest way we may accurately and completely describe its purpose, nature, and course?

The Christian life is the hearing and doing of the word.

“Everyone then who hears these words of mine and does them will be like a wise man who built his house on the rock,” says Jesus.[2] When Jesus says “these words of mine” he is referring most immediately to his Sermon on the Mount in Matthew 5-7. Indeed, it was these specific words that arrested so many early Korean Christians—not only the “sturdy Christian from the north” noted above, but also another sturdy Christian from the north, the great Kim Kyo Shin, who, upon hearing the words of the sermon, concluded that in learning to do them he could become a righteous man ten years sooner than if he followed the teachings of Confucius.[3]

But, like Kim Kyo Shin, whoever seeks to hear and do the words of Jesus in Matthew 5-7 will soon understand that those words—and Jesus—are inseparable from the Bible as a whole. “You search the Scriptures because you think they give you eternal life,” Jesus says. “But the Scriptures point to me!”[4] “And beginning with Moses and all the Prophets, he explained to them what was said in all the Scriptures concerning himself.”[5]

In Revelation chapter 5, the Apostle John sees a scroll—the word of God. A strong angel asks, “Who is worthy to break the seals and open the scroll?” But John says, “No one in heaven or on earth or under the earth could open the scroll or even look inside it.” The Bible is completely closed to the understanding of the children of Adam. And so, John weeps.

The Bible thus possesses an indissoluble relationship to Christ, and likewise Christ possesses an indissoluble relationship to the Bible. So, to say that the Christian life is the hearing and doing of the word is not to say that Christianity is a life of Bible study. The Bible may not be studied, searched, or mastered as if it could be forced to yield up anything. The Bible may only be revealed, and the only one who can reveal it is Christ. He reveals it only on his terms, for his purpose. His revelation of the Bible is a revealing of the Triune God, for there is no revelation of anything in the Bible that is other than this.

God reveals himself to all who diligently seek him[6], and he must transform us in order to receive him. That transformation must take place in both our hearing and our doing.

Many Christians accept that transformation must take place in our hearing. This is why they undertake Bible study, which they conceive of as an interior, or spiritual, discipline. They set aside time each day to read the Bible and pray. They use phrases like “hearing from the Lord.” Some people call this QT, or quiet time.

But Jesus has a different name for such a practice. He calls it FT, or foolish time:

And everyone who hears these words of mine and does not do them will be like a foolish man who built his house on the sand. And the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat against that house, and it fell, and great was the fall of it.[7]

Or as James writes:

Anyone who listens to the word but does not do what it says is like someone who looks at his face in a mirror and, after looking at himself, goes away and immediately forgets what he looks like. But whoever looks intently into the perfect law that gives freedom, and continues in it—not forgetting what they have heard, but doing it—they will be blessed in what they do.[8]

Jesus and James are not simply urging Christians to try harder to apply what they read in QT. They are testifying that the hearing and the doing of the word are inseparable; God is revealed only through their conjoining.

This is the lesson of the sturdy Christian from the north. When he sought only to hear the word, it would not “stick,” even though he tried to memorize it. But when he practiced each verse on a heathen neighbor, it “stuck.”

What is it that “stuck”? The words? The meaning? The behavior change? What does this sticky thing stick to? Our memory? Our spirit? Our will? How does the sticky thing stick to that to which it is stuck? And can it stay stuck, or will it soon fall away?

Such questions are crucial to understanding the Bible and the Christian life, and why both inevitably lead us underground. In order to answer these questions, we must understand the world and ourselves and that to which the word is sticking, or not sticking, and why.

The world is fallen, and we are fallen along with it. Our bodies are captive to sin. Our minds, wills, and emotions are darkened, unable to comprehend or act upon the things of God or even hear his voice. However, because God originally created humans in his image[9], and because he is not far from each one of us and it is in him that we live and move and have our being[10], there arises in us, even in the midst of our complete captivity to sin, an inchoate awareness that something in us is not right. When this awareness is followed by a seeking for righteousness, or what the Apostle Paul calls a groping for God[11], or what Jesus calls a “hunger and thirst for righteousness”[12], then God accounts this as a diligent seeking of him, and he gives his reward.[13] As Jesus says, he fills them.[14]

But what is the reward? With what are they filled? The answer is consciousness and conviction of sin, which is one of God’s greatest and most miraculous gifts to sinners, given through the Holy Spirit.[15] It is a gift that should never be despised. For there are only two possible responses to consciousness and conviction of sin. One is a broken heart and a contrite spirit. God will not despise this and will in fact accept it as a sacrifice.[16] It is an act of purity of heart to agree with God that we deserve death. To the one who so agrees, Christ reveals himself through his word; as he promises in the Sermon on the Mount, “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.”[17]  The only other possible response to the Holy Spirit’s conviction of sin is self-deception. This is what Jesus calls loving and practicing a lie. Those who do this are eternally excluded from his presence.[18]

When the Holy Spirit’s consciousness and conviction of sin are met in us with a broken heart and a contrite spirit, then Christ appears: we see God. In what form do we see God? In the form of his word, the Bible, which he reveals to us. The word, quickened by Christ, enters us and becomes incorporated into us. This is more than us receiving a moment of insight or being able to understand or memorize a text; as James notes, we would soon forget such things. When the word is revealed by him, rather than simply read off the page by us in an effort to memorize, study, or master it, “it will not return to me empty, but will accomplish what I desire and achieve the purpose for which I sent it.”[19] The word is God’s sanctifying agent. Sanctification is the name of the process by which the word binds itself to our fallen mind, will, and emotions, The word infuses our darkness with light, repairs our breaches, rebuilds the ancient ruins that once were the image of God in us.[20] This process happens as the word revealed by Christ is enabled to dwell richly in us.[21] As we will see in a moment, this whole process is initiated through baptism and dependent upon our regular remembrance of our baptism, which is why Ephesians 5:26 calls this “washing with water through the word”.[22]

With this framework in mind, we are able to return to our question about stickiness.

What is the sticky thing? It is the word revealed and quickened by Christ. To what does it stick? It sticks to our broken and contrite heart, which includes our mind, will, and emotions. How does it stick? Through baptism and regular remembrance of our baptism, a rich place is created for the word to dwell. Does it stay stuck or does it soon fall away? It stays stuck when, as James says, we continue in it, not forgetting the word we have heard, but doing it. Just as the word infuses the darkness inside us with light, Christ intends us to be the light of the world. Just as the word repairs the breaches and rebuilds the ancient ruins inside us, he intends us to be repairs of the world’s breaches and rebuilders of the world’s ruins. In this way, humans restored in the image of God, indwelt by God, fulfill their original purpose of exercising dominion over the earth.

This is the reason why the Bible and the Christian life of hearing and doing the word inevitably lead us underground. God created humans to have dominion not only over their own minds, wills, and emotions, but over the whole earth. Just as his word sticks to the broken places in us, he makes us to stick to the broken places in the world. Like the sturdy Christian from the north, Christ sends us to our heathen neighbors and commands us to practice our verses on them. This is not QT. In fact, there is nothing quiet about it at all. As noted in the previous volume, the underground church is not a church in hiding. It is a church unplugged from the systems of this world, so that its practice of verses on the world for the sake of the world is in no way constrained by the world’s systems.[23] As noted in the final chapter of this present volume, and as experienced by the earliest Korean Christians and Christians of every age and place, we can and should expect that our practice will meet with persecutions.

This is a very sobering thought, and one that every Christian should take seriously:

The more Christ blesses our practice of hearing and doing the word, the greater the likelihood that we will suffer in the flesh.

The way that he prepares us for this suffering in the flesh is through the spiritual process of dying to self.

[1] G.H. Jones, Korea: The Land, People, and Customs. New York: Eaton & Mains, 1907, pp. 99-100.

[2] Matthew 7:24, ESV.

[3] “Recollection of Kyo-shin Kim,” p. 1. Accessed June 29, 2017 at http://www.biblekorea.net/articles/Recollection_of_Kyo-shin_Kim.doc.

[4] John 5:39, NLT.

[5] Luke 24:27.

[6] Cf. Hebrews 11:6.

[7] Matthew 7:26-27, ESV.

[8] James 1:23-25, NIV.

[9] Cf. Genesis 5:1-3, where Adam and Eve are created in the image of God but their offspring are created in the form and image of fallen Adam.

[10] Cf. Acts 17:28.

[11] Acts 17:27.

[12] Matthew 5:6, NKJV.

[13] Cf. Hebrews 11:6.

[14] Cf. Matthew 5:6.

[15] Cf. John 16:8.

[16] Psalm 51:17.

[17] Matthew 5:10, NKJV.

[18] Cf. Rev. 22:15.

[19] Isaiah 55:11, NIV.

[20] Cf. Isaiah 58:12.

[21] Cf. Colossians 3:16.

[22] Ephesians 5:26, BSB.

[23] Cf. E. Foley, Planting the Underground Church. Seoul: Voice of the Martyrs Korea, 2017, pp. 68-81.

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