What Jesus Sees (Even When Others Do Not)
It’s a detail that is easy to overlook, a detail whose importance may be lost in our many readings and re-readings of the story. But it’s a detail that is full of significance and flush with encouragement if only we will notice it and if only we will meditate upon it.
In the first chapter of John’s gospel, he tells of two men, two brothers, who became followers of Jesus. Andrew was the first to encounter him, to hear his words, and to believe that he was the One who had long been promised. In his excitement he tracked down his brother and told him, “We’ve found the Messiah!” Andrew led Simon to Jesus so he, too, could meet this man and hear his words. And it was at this point that an unexpected event transpired: “Jesus looked at him and said, ‘You are Simon the son of John. You shall be called Cephas’ (which means Peter).”
Jesus looked at this man and immediately gave him a new name. He was no longer to go by the one his parents had given him, but by the one this Teacher had assigned. He was no longer Simon, but Cephas (in Aramaic) or Peter (in Greek).
The significance of this change can be lost in the modern Western world, for we attach little importance to the meaning of names, but only to whether we like the way they sound or if we have known someone by the same name. And it can be lost in the English language, for neither “Peter” nor “Cephas” mean anything else in our language. But when Jesus looked at Peter and said, “You shall be called Cephas” everyone knew what he was saying: “Your name will be Rock.”
Jesus looked at this young man, this tradesman, this fisherman, and said “You shall be called Rock.” Then as now rocks symbolized strength and stability. Rocks made up foundations that could withstand the fiercest of storms and walls that could endure the most withering of bombardments. There’s no reason to believe Peter had a history that made Jesus say, “You have been a rock.” There’s no reason to believe Peter was currently living a life that made Jesus understand, “You are a rock.” No, Jesus gazed down the corridors of time and, with his mind on the future, said, “Rock.”
Jesus saw something in Peter that no one else saw. He saw something that had gone unnoticed by even his dearest friends and closest family members. Jesus saw what lay latent in this man, he saw what was beyond his impulsiveness, what existed past his weakness, what was possible on the far side of his wavering. He set aside all that was bad to focus instead on what was absolutely best, all that was unworthy to focus instead on what was noble and lovely and good.
Jesus saw who Peter would be. Or perhaps better, Jesus saw who he would make Peter to be. He saw that as Peter spent time with him, his strengths would grow stronger and his weaknesses grow weaker. He saw that as Peter walked with him, his vices would be diminished and his gifts amplified. He knew that as Peter followed him, his desires would be transformed and his character refined. He knew who and what Peter would become. He knew this was the man to whom he would soon say, “upon this rock I will build my church.”
And so it is with you and me. Jesus looks at us in our weakness, he looks at us in our fallenness, he looks at us in the middle of all the messes we’ve made and he says, “follow me.” He looks beyond our habits and patterns of sin, he looks beyond our immaturity of character and lack of accomplishment, he looks beyond our self-importance and self-aggrandizement. He sees in us what nobody else sees and nobody else can see because he looks beyond who we are to what we will be. He sees who he will make us to be as we spend time with him, as we walk with him, as we follow in his footsteps.
Inspired by J.R. Miller
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When God Gives Us a Platform
There are many ways we may respond to the sudden onrush of some new pain or the sudden onset of some fresh sorrow. There are many options set before us when health fails and uncertainty draws near, when wealth collapses and bankruptcy looms, when a loved one is taken and we are left alone. There are many forks in the road, many paths we can choose when we face such heavy trials. Some who seemed to be living so well grow angry at God and man, then sink into bitterness. Some who seemed to be so strong in their faith grow despondent, then stop pressing on. Some who seemed to be so vibrant grow dull and disillusioned, perhaps shrugging off a God who would ask them to pass through a dark valley.
But there are others who respond to their trials in different ways, and it’s these people who have so often blessed, encouraged, and inspired me. These people have understood that God’s sovereignty is active in and through their pain and that somehow even this trial fits within his providence. They have understood that through their time of sorrow, God has given them a kind of platform, an opportunity to glorify his name. And they have willingly accepted and embraced it.
One friend was told he had a form of cancer that was usually fatal. He used every treatment and every hill and valley to proclaim his trust in Jesus to the doctors, nurses, and his friends. When told he had only a short time left to live, he made it his purpose to give his last days to calling his Christian friends to encourage them in their faith one last time and to calling his non-Christian friends to tell them about Jesus one last time. “After all,” he told me, “everyone will listen to a dying man.” His suffering gave him a platform and he used it to proclaim the glories of God.
Another friend saw his daughter suddenly struck down by a terrible and mysterious illness. Though this was a heavy blow for him and for his family, he diligently wrote dispatches from the hospital that went out to believers and unbelievers alike. In them he expressed his confusion but also his trust, his sorrow but also his faith. His time of agony was also a time of proclamation. He ministered to others even when he was suffering so deeply.
Because we are never outside the providence of God, we can have confidence that we are never outside the purpose of God.Share
Generations have benefitted from the books and poems of Amy Carmichael, most of which were written from her sickbed—her sickbed that doubled as her podium before the world. Millions have heard Joni Eareckson Tada speak and sing of the glories of God—Joni, whose entire public ministry has been carried out from a wheelchair. Both embraced their circumstances as a God-given platform. There was pain, to be certain. There was sorrow and toil. But there was also opportunity.
We grieve our losses, of course, whether that’s the loss of health, wealth, ability, or loved ones. We rightly weep and mourn. And we certainly don’t wish for those times of darkness to come upon us. But because we are never outside the providence of God, we can have confidence that we are never outside the purpose of God. We can understand that God has purpose in our pain and we can know that in even our darkest moments and hardest days, we can praise and glorify his name. We can know that his providence has given us a platform, whether it is from the heights of joy or the depths of sorrow, whether it is before many people or few. And surely it is only right that we use it to tell of his goodness and grace. -
Grownups Aren’t Afraid of Shadows
We had a child who was afraid of the darkness. When night fell, when the lights went out, when the house got quiet, she would lie in her bed terrified of every noise and petrified of every shadow. For a time she would even take certain objects out of her room before she went to bed—objects she had come to fear because of the scary shadows they would cast upon her floor and upon her walls. Often she would cry out in the night and we would have to stumble out of bed to quiet her, to investigate strange shapes, to try to convince her to go back to sleep.
She’s a lot older now and no longer so terribly fearful. After all, it’s children and not grownups who are afraid of shadows. As we grow up, as we mature, as we come to understand how the world works, we eventually realize that shadows have no substance, they have no reality, they have no ability to hurt or harm us. We set aside childish paranoias and no longer fear mere shadows.
But even with all of that being true, we do not live free from fears. Though we may stop fearing mere shadows, we realize there is plenty of substance and plenty of reality that is intimidating in its own right. This is a hostile world full of enemies who wish to do us harm. There is one enemy greater than any other who looms before us, not in the dark of night but at the end of our lives. Death looms in the distance as the great and final enemy, the one none of us can escape. Each of us knows we must eventually approach it, each of us must grapple with it, each of us must pass through it.
Yet the Bible assures us that we need not fear this enemy, for death itself is merely a shadow. At least, it is merely a shadow for those of us who have put our faith in Jesus Christ and received his salvation. We do not need to face the true substance of death because Christ faced it on our behalf. He took our sin upon himself, he faced the holy wrath of God, he served out the complete sentence it deserved. In this great sacrifice he took death’s claws, he took its fangs, he took its strength. And because of this, we need to face no more than the shadow.
Shadows can do no harm. The shadow of a dog cannot bite. The shadow of a cobra cannot strike. The shadow of a giant cannot tear limb from limb. And the shadow of death cannot destroy. Though it may claim our bodies for a time, it cannot touch our souls and cannot sever them from God. Though we must pass through it, we need not fear it. Though it stands before us, it has no true claim on us.
When we are called to approach death, then, as each of us will, it should comfort us to know that we face no more than a shadow. And it should comfort us as well to know that where there is a shadow there is always a light, for shadows cannot exist in total darkness. Beyond the grave a light shines brightly, a light of hope that guides us to Paradise and guides us to Christ, the one who has defeated death and who has assured us that where he is, we too shall be.Inspired by the writing of F.B. Meyer.
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A La Carte (October 7)
May the Lord be with you and bless you today.
Four Ways to Preach Like Jesus
Alistair Begg: “If today’s preachers and teachers of God’s Word would strive to preach like Jesus, what kind of lessons might we learn from the Master?”
Two Dangers Facing Christians Under Cultural Pressure
Doug Eaton describes two dangers facing Christians when we are under cultural pressure. “The first is to give in to the pressure to conform, and the second is to stand defiant in an ungodly way.”
On Plundering the Egyptians
“The debates surrounding catholicity and theological retrieval do not seem to be slowing down any time soon. With all the back and forth about Thomas, Aristotle, and Van Til, one theological topic seems to be overlooked more often than others—namely, common grace.” I tend to agree.
Why You Need to Know the Difference Between Hidden and Revealed
“There’s a similar kind of suspense in knowing God—he’s both a stranger and a friend. Though you feel his presence listening to the Scriptures, deep in prayer, or in the friendships of your faith community, he can feel distant when you need him the most. You can’t always find him, but he always seems to find you.”
Suffering Is Our Teacher
Paul Tautges describes some of the ways in which suffering serves as a teacher.
Why We Go Light on Polemics
“I’ve never had a personality that naturally goes hard after polemics, which is the practice of highlighting the weaknesses and errors of other religions and worldviews as a method of thereby getting to the gospel. But when locals outright deny, brush under the rug, or just plain don’t know about the the scandalous or dark parts of their holy books or prophet’s life, it is awfully tempting to start attacking these foundations of their belief, even for me.”
Flashback: The Servers and the Servicers in Every Church
Servers are prone to see servicers as lazy or uncaring…Servicers are prone to see servers as spiritually cold or immature…The reality, though, is simply that God has made us different in the way we relate to him.Chafing and murmuring grieve God. The moment we recognize the will of God in either a duty or a sorrow we should accept it with delight. In no other way can we please God and have His blessing of peace. —J.R. Miller
