You shall show me the path of life; in your presence is the fullness of joy, and at your right hand there is pleasure for evermore.
Our Shepherd takes us on paths of righteousness, for his name’s sake! As Jesus did for his disciples and the crowds, he makes us sit in the green grass and feeds us abundantly—even our Savior’s own body and blood. As we walk the path through the shadow of death, we are following our Lord to the cross and he comforts us there. These paths of righteousness, this path of life through death—daily death to our own desires and inclinations, the death and decay we experience in this fallen world all around us, and someday our own physical death—as we walk these paths with our Shepherd, he leads us to himself, into his presence. And with him there is fullness of life and joy, and goodness, boundless goodness forevermore!
How do we walk with our Lord? In the Old Testament reading on Sunday, Joshua warns the people of Israel that they cannot serve Yahweh, because they have other gods in their midst; with their words they choose Yahweh but in their daily lives they choose the gods of Egypt and of Canaan (Joshua 24:14-25). As Jesus says to his disciples in the Gospel reading, “the flesh is of no avail” (John 6:63). We cannot walk with the Lord in our flesh or by our own strength. This seems hopeless, and with Paul we might ask, “Who will rescue us from this body of death?”
His answer comes immediately: “Thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ!” In the victory given by Jesus, we can walk with the Lord. With David we can take refuge in our Lord, turning from all else that promises safety and looking to him for all we need; “You are my Lord, I have no good apart from you” (Psalm 16:2). Jesus tells his disciples, tells us: “It is the Spirit who gives life; the flesh is of no avail. The words that I have spoken to you are spirit and life.” Through the Spirit, as we feed daily on our Bread of Life in his Word and come together weekly to share in his body and blood, in this way we are made into his body and share with him in his life, and so can walk with him.
Let us, like Peter, cling to Jesus! “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life, and we have believed, and have come to know, that you are the Holy One of God.” (John 6:68-69) Or as John later says in 1 John 4:16, “[W]e have come to know and to believe the love that God has for us.” In the victory of Jesus, through the Spirit, we can walk with the Lord! Our Shepherd loves us; we shall not want.
Rebekah
Scripture Reflections
“Whoever feeds on my flesh and drinks my blood abides in me, and I in him.” (John 6:56)
Theologians call the concept of our lives being lived “in Christ” incorporation. Paul was fascinated with the idea, using the phrase “in Christ” over and over in his letters. But he didn’t invent the idea—it came straight from Jesus. During his ministry, Jesus told the disciples they would live, and should remain, “in me.” John 6:56, which we heard in church last Sunday, is one of those instances.
Simply put, the life of the Christian is lived in Christ’s own life, and Christ lives in the Christian. This isn’t a metaphor or abstraction, but instead a claim about a new beyond-our-senses reality that is more real than our physical bodies. As Paul said in Gal. 2:20, “I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me.” In Col. 1:27, he wrote that God’s glorious mystery is “Christ in you, the hope of glory.” The life that we are living is actually Jesus’ life, lived through us, and our lives are “hidden with Christ in God” (Col. 3:3). Living in Christ, having his life lived through us, doesn’t make us less of who we are or eliminate our personalities. When we live in Christ, and when he lives in us, we truly become ourselves in the deepest sense, rather than a flimsy imitation of who we were created to be. We were created to have our lives intertwined with the life of our Creator, and this is what occurs when we are incorporated into, or made a part of, the Son of God.
Don’t be surprised if you can’t get your mind around this concept! That our lives are lived in Christ and that his life is lived in us is beyond our comprehension. We could wrestle with this thought for years and still barely appreciate all that it means. How can our lives be his life, and his ours? How can we be a part of him, and yet still remain ourselves? These are questions beyond our comprehension!
Even though we can’t fully understand our incorporation in Christ, one powerful implication can encourage us. If our lives are no longer our own, but are instead Jesus’ own life, then there is a limit to what loneliness, anxiety, or fear can do to us. This is not to say that we won’t experience those things! The strongest Christians go through times like this—Jesus’ tears in Gethsemane are proof that being a Christian doesn’t eliminate loneliness and soul-wrenching agony. Paul was once so “utterly burdened beyond his strength that he despaired of life itself” (II Cor. 1:8). It isn’t sin to be discouraged, lonely, or overwhelmed. But loneliness, fear, or anxiety is never the final word, because Jesus’ life is alive in us.
He is alive in you. You are alive in him. Nothing that occurs to you is outside of him. He is never absent. Your life itself is his life, and he has already been through the temptation in the wilderness and the sorrow of Gethsemane. He has already been through the cross; he has already been resurrected! Nothing can happen to you beyond what he has already experienced, none of it will shake his grip on you, and none of it will take him by surprise. Rest in the fact that your life is forever bound up in his!
Steven+
Scripture Reflections
Over the last few weeks, the young adult group has been studying the seven miraculous signs of Jesus in the Gospel of John. Since the normal leaders are out of town on a diocesan retreat, I get to teach this evening on John 11, which describes Jesus raising Lazarus. This is the seventh and last sign—the climatic demonstration of Jesus’ power, character, and agenda—and at its heart is Jesus’ declaration, “I am the resurrection and the life.” Not that he offers it, but that he IS it! And what is more, he tells Martha that his life and resurrection become ours in the present when we live and believe in him. If this truth sunk into the deep places of our souls, all earthly situations would look different. But I want to use this space to highlight another theme in the narrative.
The story begins with Jesus in another town and Martha and Mary sending word to Jesus that Lazarus was sick. Their intentions are clear: they want Jesus to come and heal their brother. They have good reason to assume he will, because he is extremely close to this family. But Jesus doesn’t come; instead, he stays where he is for two more days. Verses 5-6 are confusing: “Now Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus. So, when he heard that Lazarus was ill, he stayed two days longer in the place where he was.”
We would expect the opposite! He loved them, so why didn’t he go running to their side? This is what Martha and Mary think. Both say to him later, “If you had arrived earlier, you could have done something for Lazarus!” But we don’t have to wonder why he chose to stay away in their moment of crisis or why he didn’t answer their prayer right away. From the beginning of the story (v. 4) to the end (v. 40), Jesus makes it clear that he delayed in order to demonstrate God’s glory. Lazarus being healed wouldn’t demonstrate the aspect of God’s glory that he wanted to demonstrate. Only a resurrection could do that.
At first glance this seems to mean that his love for the family was second in his affections to the glory of God. (This is actually true—prioritizing anything over the glory of God, even the love for a friend, is idolatry.) But the passage doesn’t say this, and it doesn’t allow us to see “love for friends” in competition with (and losing to) “the glory of God.” After all, it says directly that he loved them, so he stayed two days longer. The point is that his desire for the glory of God was intricately tied to his love for the family. He loved them, so he wanted them to see God’s glory, so he delayed.
This is the point when the story should begin to sink into our hearts. We pray, hoping for immediate answers, and oftentimes, God seems silent or distant. We can interpret this as “he didn’t hear,” or “he doesn’t love me,” or “he isn’t able to do this,” or “prayer doesn’t work.” But the answer might be as simple as the one we find in this story. He loves you, and therefore delays, because in the delay he would show you the glory of God in a greater way than simply saying “yes” to your prayer. As you pray, encourage your own heart! God loves his children and wants to show them his glory. If this sometimes means he has to say, “Wait!” to us, do not lose faith!
Steven+