“What do you want me to do for you?” Jesus’ question to the blind man in Mark 10, our Gospel reading this past Sunday, has been resonating in my heart since we heard the same question asked of James and John the previous Sunday (Mk. 10:36). What do we want Jesus to do for us? In what do we feel our need of him, and what do we blithely assume we’re capable of on our own?
As Jesus assured James and John, in following him we will drink from his cup and be baptized with his baptism, which is to say, we will share in his suffering and even his death. Do we, like them (but perhaps not so bluntly), believe ourselves fully capable of following Jesus? “We are able—all we need from you is the promise of the greatness that is the due reward of our willingness and capability!”
James and John’s answer of, “We are able,” to Jesus’ question brings to mind the story from Mark 9 of the man whose demon-possessed son the disciples were not able to heal. When Jesus came down from the mountain, he explained to Jesus why he had come to him and summed up what had happened in Jesus’ absence: “So I asked your disciples to cast it out, and they were not able.” He then asks Jesus, “...if you can do anything…help us.” Jesus rebukes him saying, “‘If you can!’ All things are possible for one who believes.” The man’s response is so poignant: “I believe, help my unbelief!”
What is the root of our unbelief in Jesus’ ability? On inspection of my heart, and on hearing the story of James and John, unbelief seems in part to be rooted in pride. Where we are assured of our own ability, perhaps we lack faith in Jesus’ ability because we don’t know we need him. The blind man in Mark 10 comes to Jesus knowing his own lack and confident in Jesus’ ability to heal him. The end of his story, though, seems to point to a deeper lack and the beginning of a deeper healing. Jesus tells him his faith has made him well, and sends him off saying, “Go your way”—“And immediately,” Mark tells us, “he recovered his sight and followed him on the way.”
Following Jesus, drinking from his cup and being baptized with his baptism, is not something I am able to do; like James and John in the Garden of Gethsemane, leaning on my own ability ends with me deserting my Lord in pursuit of safety wherever I can find it when that death he would lead me to is looming. “What do you want from me?” he asks. “Lord Jesus, I want my way to be swallowed up in following you on the way to the cross. I want my eyes to be opened that I might see you, my ears dug out that I might hear you, my mouth opened that I might speak your words, my heart of stone replaced with a heart of flesh, my fainting spirit to be upheld by your willing Spirit. I want to know my need of you. Show us our inability, that we might look to you—for you, oh Lord, are able. We believe, help our unbelief!”
Hannah
Why did we pick the name Church of the Incarnation?
On Sunday, October 13, during the Sunday School hour, we began a three-part discussion on the name of the church. This three-fold explanation is a part of the fall series on the identity and mission of Church of the Incarnation. If you missed the first session on the church’s name, you can listen to it here. (If you missed the session on September 29 about what it means that we are Anglican, click here to listen.)
We grow to understand things in two ways—through experience and explanation. I am using the Sunday School hour this fall to talk about the identity and mission of Incarnation, so that our experience of the church would be complemented by an explanation of who we are and what we value.
My hope in this is simple: When we understand something well, we value it. When we value it, we participate in it more deeply and share it with others. Incarnation has been a gift, by God’s grace, to each of us. I would love for the people of the church to understand more clearly who we are and what we are about so that we are all able to rejoice more deeply in what God is doing and to share it more freely with others.
If possible, take some time to listen to the sessions you missed before coming to Sunday School this week (Oct. 27). We will continue the discussion about what our name means and why it was picked. As usual, Sunday School and childcare will be available for all ages.
Steven+
Scripture Refections
Jesus said, “Truly, I say to you, there is no one who has left house or brothers or sisters or mother or father or children or lands, for my sake and for the gospel, who will not receive a hundredfold now in this time, houses and brothers and sisters and mothers and children and lands, with persecutions, and in the age to come eternal life. But many who are first will be last, and the last first.” (Mark 10:29-31)
One of the great struggles for the Church over the centuries has been how to faithfully transition from times of external opposition to times of peace, and from times of peace back to times of external opposition.
In the early days, because Christianity was generally rejected, Christians had to live with a sense of urgency and commitment—no one became a Christian casually. Becoming a Christian could mean losing your family and position. Money was thought about differently, not just because Jesus gave us new priorities, but also because (practically speaking) you could lose it at any point. When Jesus told the rich young man to give his money away and follow him, the command made sense on multiple levels. If the followers of Jesus were putting their lives on the line by following Jesus, thinking money guaranteed security was foolish. You couldn’t follow Jesus without risking everything, so why not give up everything as an act of love of your own volition? Christians sacrificing everything and living in a new community was not just a way to be faithful to Jesus; it was also a way to disarm the threats of being disowned and disinherited.
As Christianity became mainstream, becoming a Christian no longer came at the same cost. Many early Christians lamented the fact that people could now casually join the faith. There was no longer a threat to property and family ties. You could be respectable in the world and a Christian at the same time, and many Christians began to try to hold onto the things of this world—money, family ties, and reputations. The monastic movement was, in part, an answer to this. People who wanted a rigorous form of the faith gave away everything, relinquished family ties, and sought to follow Jesus without hindrance.
This pattern has repeated itself over the history of Christianity. Whenever it has been easy to be a Christian, the Church (in general) forgets the commands of profound sacrifice and rigorous community, and so a minority seeks that deep level of commitment through monastic communities, missionary societies, and sacrificial ministry to the poor. When the culture turns against Christianity, everyone is thrust into the boat of deep sacrifice—casual Christians fade away and deep sacrifice becomes normal, not just for the rigorous minority.
There is much speculation that we are entering one of those periods of cultural opposition to Christianity, one of those times when it is not easy to be a casual Christian. In one sense, this is frightening, because whenever the culture doesn’t support Christianity, it costs something to be a Christian. But in another sense, it is exactly in those periods that normal Christians—not just the rigorous minority—learn to live as citizens of the Kingdom of God in regards to money, relationships, and reputation. Jesus said plainly that the last in this world would be first in his. We should hold the things of this world loosely, and expect that God will fully compensate in his own way those who lose what is precious in the eyes of the world.
Steven+