Hearing iMonk: (1) Embracing the Church on the Corner

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One of the treasures we have not tapped much in the past few years since Michael died has been his podcast ministry.

If you go through the archives, you will find posts that offer those podcasts, but the links no longer work. I am trying to get all the podcasts I can find into one location so that you can go there and download them. This task should be completed in the next few weeks.

Throughout this year I will also present posts that contain portions of the iMonk podcasts so that we can continue to literally hear Michael’s voice on various subjects.

Today, here are excerpts from podcast number 59 (May 2007). In this talk, Michael devotes the entire program to discussing a post he wrote called, “Going Back to an SBC Church” (I am trying to find this post and have thus far been unsuccessful).

Michael discusses his personal post-evangelical journey with regard to church affiliation. Post-evangelicals in general have embraced a wider vision of the church reflected in Ephesians 4: “one Lord, one faith, one baptism,” and they have been searching for pure expressions of this church. For Michael, this impulse was captured in a series of questions he found in reading Robert Webber:

  • Do you feel like you are in a journey in which you are embracing the church in the larger sense rather than in the narrower, denominational sense?
  • Do you feel yourself being drawn to traditions other than your own?
  • Do you feel yourself affirming things that you might have even been taught were bad or wrong or against the Bible?
  • Do you see value in other traditions that, while you may not fully identify with them, you believe that these are fellow Christians and that this is the Church?

To these questions, Michael enthusiastically answers, “Yes!” but then describes how he came to a point of seeing he had to “quit being bitter about the fact that the ideal church for my particular preferences is not there” and embrace the congregation down the street.

From Podcast #59: “Embracing the Church on the Corner”

 

Some pertinent quotes from the podcast:

“…coming to a point of seeing that my preference for a church was no longer going to be my guiding principle and that I was going to have to embrace the real church as I found it at my doorstep.”

“I gotta tell you folks, it is hard to embrace the church on the corner when you are as deeply in love with the Great Tradition as I am.”

“I am a Southern Baptist. I’m a post-evangelical. I’m a Christian. But this is my particular little piece of the farm, and I don’t I think I can personally go on as if it’s not there. Some people can. I can’t.”

“There’s a lot of good that can happen in my life as a follower of Jesus Christ if I’ll embrace this.” (not on excerpt)

The “Realest” Michael Spencer (Jeff Dunn)

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One of my biggest regrets was not meeting Michael Spencer in person. I was his literary agent and, like many of my clients, he communicated with me via email and phone. We never were in the same state together, let alone the same room. I first got to know Michael in 2008. I came across his blog while doing research to find new clients who had more to say than the usual Christian pablum. I printed off a number of his essays to get a feel for his writing. Then I emailed him to introduce myself and see if he would be willing to hear my spiel. We set a time to talk via phone the next day.

“You cost me a good night’s sleep!” I said after long distance introductions were made. “I read your essay, ‘Our Problem With Grace,’ and I wrestled with that all night. I think you just knocked down everything I thought I believed.”

He laughed, then said that was his favorite essay. We talked about grace for a few minutes, then got to something just as important to Michael, if not more so. His—and my—beloved Cincinnati Reds. The Reds were firmly committed to sucking that year, but being true believers, we were still debating which pinch hitter was more valuable for the losing club. At the end of our conversation, I had a new client. More than that, I had a new friend and spiritual mentor.

Michael would growl at me if he heard me call him my spiritual mentor. He didn’t want anyone following him, for he felt he was too messed up to be anyone else’s role model. But I—and now you, by proxy—have followed Michael Spencer for many years. Yes, he knocked over what I believed, or thought I believed. He made me uncomfortable with my theology. I found that after reading or talking with Michael, I had to throw away much of what I had held dear. So like it or not, Michael did become my spiritual mentor. He was not perfect in any way, but he was shaped just like Jesus.

Michael was very smart. If you wanted to argue theology, he could quote Barth and Bruce and Hodge (A.A. or Charles) at you all day. If you waxed philosophic, he brought out his Kierkegaard. If you danced around semantics, he would whack you over the head with his Complete Shakespeare and tell you to mind your p’s and q’s.

And if you wanted to argue the merits of Scott Hatteberg playing first base for the Reds in spite of a lack of home run power, strap in, because you were in for a long discussion.

If Michael was anything at all, he was real. He was really a Southern Baptist filling a pulpit in a Presbyterian church who had strong Catholic leanings. He was really a reluctant chaplain at a school in the hills of Kentucky. He was really a husband of one and a father of two. And most of the time, he felt really out of place everywhere he went.

Photo_25Except, perhaps, here. Here, on the blog site he created to let out steam, Michael could explore. He explored who he was, really. For a while, he dabbled in political commentary, then cultural criticism. But in the end, the “realest” Michael Spencer came through when he wrote about the one person who was the most real to him: Jesus. If you read a lot of his essays, you’ll see that Michael didn’t try to explain Jesus or categorize him or describe him, any more than a man in the dark wants to explain a flashlight. Michael talked about the world as he saw it through the lens of the Gospel. Jesus is the light of the world, and Michael talked about what he saw in that light. In doing so, he tweaked the noses of those who wanted to spend their time focused on the flashlight or who spent their time pointing the light to themselves. InternetMonk let Michael be Michael, and anyone who didn’t care for the real Michael was free to not come here.

This is where I met Michael Spencer. He became my client, and I got him a book contract with Random House. I remember a Friday night, talking with Michael from my home in Tulsa. You have to understand I was used to authors who were full of themselves, who wanted the largest advance they could get so they could brag at the next Holy Spirit Convention that theirs was bigger. I was used to authors—preachers in large churches—going ballistic when there weren’t enough zeroes in their check. So I didn’t know how Michael was going to react when I told him I was going to get a five-figure advance offer on the coming Monday morning. When I told him the amount, there was silence on the phone. “Great, here we go,” I thought. I asked him if he was ok with the amount Random House was offering him. I heard him crying.

“All I wanted,” he said, “was enough money to buy a pair of pants that fit.”

That was the real Michael Spencer.

I wish I had met him in person.

(Monday is Opening Day for the Cincinnati Reds. What do you want to bet Michael lays off singing around the throne of God for just a few hours to take in the ballgame?)

Easter Sunday 2015: “God’s future has arrived in the present” (N.T. Wright)

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If Easter makes any sense at all, it makes sense within something much more like the classic Jewish worldview…: heaven and earth are neither the same thing, nor a long way removed from one another, but they overlap and interlock mysteriously in a number of ways; and the God who made both heaven and earth is at work from within the world as well as from without, sharing the pain of the world — indeed, taking its full weight upon his own shoulders. From that point of view, as the Eastern Orthodox churches have always emphasized, when Jesus rose again God’s whole new creation emerged from the tomb, introducing a world of new potential and possibility. Indeed, precisely because part of that new possibility is for human beings themselves to be revived and renewed, the resurrection of Jesus doesn’t leave us as passive, helpless spectators. We find ourselves lifted up, set on our feet, given new breath in our lungs, and commissioned to go and make new creation happen in the world.

This is, indeed, the interpretation of the resurrection which fits most closely the view of Jesus’ life and work which I have presented. If it is the case that Israel’s vocation was to be the people through whom the one God would rescue his beloved creation; if it is the case that Jesus believed himself, as God’s Messiah, to be bearing Israel’s vocation in himself; and in some sense exhausted, the full weight of the worlds’ evil — then clearly there is indeed a task waiting to be done. The music he wrote must now be performed. The early disciples saw this, and got on with it. When Jesus emerged from the tomb, justice, spirituality, relationship, and beauty rose with him. Something has happened in and through Jesus as a result of which the world is a different place, a place where heaven and earth have been joined forever. God’s future has arrived in the present. Instead of mere echoes, we hear the voice itself: a voice which speaks of rescue from evil and death, and hence of new creation.

• N.T. Wright
from Simply Christian: Why Christianity Makes Sense

Holy Week 2015: “Amazing grace, it reached as far as me” (Daniel Jepsen)

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Note from Dan: The chorus after verse 4 is not original.  The poem can be sung to the tune of Londonderry Air. That tune has been used for a wide variety of songs, including Danny Boy, and the beautiful hymn, I Cannot Tell.

• • •

When time was young, and glory filled the garden,
The man and wife refused their perfect place.
Yet in Your wrath, your mercy spoke a promise,
And clothed their sins in garments of your grace.

And I like them, have tasted fruit forbidden
And raised my fist against my Lord above.
Oh strip away the rags of my rebellion,
And clothe me with Thy Holy robe of love.

And on the Rock, you placed Your very presence
When streams of life flowed from the stricken stone
You bore Yourself the price of their rebellion
Their thirst to slake, their sin-guilt to atone.

Thirsty I come, to You the living water
And find a spring, abundant, clear and free
You quench my thirst with rivers of salvation
You save my soul with fountains of mercy.

You gave a day, a day of your atonement
When the High Priest would slay the sacrifice.
And all the sins were taken from your presence
You dwelt with men, by blood the only price.

Guilty I come, and tremble in Your presence
Yet see my guilt placed on a substitute!
I stand and praise my God and my redeemer
He sits and hears the worship He is due.

Then one dark day, the symbols found fulfillment
As all our sin was placed upon Your head
The Rock was struck, and blood came forth to cleanse us
Instead of death, Your tree brought life instead!

I will forever lift my eyes to Calvary,
to see the cross where Jesus died for me.
How marvelous the grace that caught my falling soul:
You looked beyond my faults and saw my needs.

For three dark days, the Seed in earth was buried
But breaking forth, that Seed gave birth to life
The firstfruit of that mighty, kingdom harvest
Which heals all hurts, and takes away all strife

I shall arise with Christ my risen Sovereign
And reign with Him through all eternity
What wondrous love, that makes our Judge our Father
Amazing grace, it reached as far as me
Amazing grace, it reached as far as me!

Holy Week 2015: Long Barren (Christina Rossetti)

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Thou who didst hang upon a barren tree,
My God, for me;
Though I till now be barren, now at length,
Lord, give me strength
To bring forth fruit to Thee.

Thou who didst bear for me the crown of thorn,
Spitting and scorn;
Though I till now have put forth thorns, yet now
Strengthen me Thou
That better fruit be borne.

Thou Rose of Sharon, Cedar of broad roots
Vine of sweet fruits,
Thou Lily of the vale with fadeless leaf,
Of thousands Chief
Feed Thou my feeble roots.

• Christina Rossetti
21 February 1865

Holy Week 2015: A Call to Greater Remembrance (Mike Bell)

carrying-the-crossOver the past several years I have read through the Gospel of Mark many times as I have been working through editing Michael Spencer’s commentary.  (For those who have been eagerly awaiting this, I am afraid it has been slow going.)  One thing that strikes me as being of particular interest each time I read through the Gospel, is that the focus on Jesus’s death begins in Chapter 8, halfway though the book.  The final trip down to Jerusalem begins in Chapter 10, and the final week of his life begins in Chapter 11.  Six of the sixteen chapters have to do with the final week of his life.

Mark has nothing to say about Jesus’ birth, nothing to say about his childhood, nothing to say about his early adulthood, or years working in a trade.  Mark doesn’t even mention his parents by name!  Even the first few years of Jesus’ ministry are condensed into seven chapters.

What other biographies have you read where nearly half the book is concerned with the final week of a person’s life?  I would suggest that it is only those books where a person’s final deed totally eclipses everything else that they have done in the rest of their life. Todd Beamer, came to mind, the man who helped lead the charge against the hijackers on Flight 93 on 9/11.  I looked up his Wikipedia entry.  There were 15 lines about his life before 9/11 and 23 lines about the events of that day.

The death of Jesus Christ takes up so much attention in the Gospel of Mark, because nothing else in the life of Jesus comes close to it in importance.  I have been reflecting a lot on Galations 2:20 over the last couple of days since Lisa mentioned it in her post:

…I live by the faith of the Son of God, who loved me, and gave himself for me. – KJV

Or to put in in other words, “I live, because Christ loved me, had faith in God’s plan, and was willing to die for me.”

Here is my question then:  If Mark spends so much time focusing on the last week of Jesus’ life, if our lives depend on the fact that he was willing to die for us, why do so many churches spend so little time on the topic?

Continue reading “Holy Week 2015: A Call to Greater Remembrance (Mike Bell)”

Holy Week 2015: The Coup, the Queen, and the Resurrection (Damaris Zehner)

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This is a good year:  Orthodox Pascha and Catholic Easter are on different days, so I can go to both liturgies.  My daughters and I, though not Orthodox, love the marathon of song, prayer, procession, and candlelight that begins on Holy Saturday and continues until the small hours on Sunday.  We also love the three-in-the-morning communal feast after the liturgy with its steaming crockpots, bottles of wine, and small children asleep under the tables.  This year we’ll be able to go.

One of the earliest Pascha celebrations I can remember was in Greece.  My father was a diplomat, and we were living in Athens, in the suburb of Psychiko.  Three houses from us was Saint Demetrios Church.  Every year the Paschal procession from Saint Demetrios spilled out into the streets and made a river of candlelight flowing through the neighborhood.  I think my mother and I joined in more than once, but I especially remember Pascha when I was eight years old.

It was 1967.  Pascha that year – I looked it up – was on April 30.  On April 21, nine days earlier, a junta of Greek military leaders overthrew King Constantine II and took over the country.  Authority figures and common citizens were arrested.  The king fled into exile.  Tanks prowled past strategic sites throughout Athens.  Curfew was declared at sundown.  The country was very tense.

I wasn’t.  There were tanks in front of our house, because we lived around the corner from the royal villa, where King Constantine had been born and where his widowed mother, Queen Frederika, was still living.  I found tanks fascinating.  Since there was no school, I hung on the iron fence around our garden and watched them muscle their way down our street.  My mother was often at the door of the house, keeping an eye on me.  I can understand now why she did that.

Continue reading “Holy Week 2015: The Coup, the Queen, and the Resurrection (Damaris Zehner)”

Holy Week 2015: The Way of the Cross (Lisa Dye)

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“The way of perfection passes by way of the Cross.”

• Paragraph 2015, Catechism of the Catholic Church

• • •

Five years ago, Internet Monk offered a series during Holy Week on the Stations of the Cross as Michael Spencer was struggling through his last days here on earth. I was new to the community and busily writing several of the meditations for the series. As is often the case, when one is in the throes of a project, vision is focused. It is up close and tunneled. I remember having exaggerated mental images at each step and station. In my mind’s eye, I saw rivulets of blood, felt the heat and jostle of the crowds, heard shouts and murmurs and smelled the closely pressed human flesh. I felt the breath go out of me as Jesus fell in the dusty street under the crushing weight of his cross.

Five years later, I sense the panorama, the sweep, the flow and end of the steps and stations. There is blessing and value in both viewpoints. There is a fellowship with Christ that comes in close scrutiny and meditation of the minutest details of his way to the Cross. I was thinking intensely about these things, but Michael, in his last moments, was undoubtedly experiencing fellowship in a way that none of us will until we are dying. Stepping back and looking at the whole, there is also a coming nearer to grasping God’s grand purpose, though always with the dimness and darkness that can’t be overcome without a face-to-face encounter in eternity with the living Christ. No doubt, Michael is experiencing this as well in a most exquisite way … a way that defies description.

“The way of perfection passes by way of the Cross.” This is not something to be understood at glance or even in a whole lifetime. It is layered and shrouded in mystery, something to uncover, bit by never ending bit as we attempt to know the ways of Holy God who has beckoned us through his Son. Part of the meaning seems to be that we, who contemplate the Cross and appropriate the work of it, enter and begin to travel the way of perfection. But strangely, Scripture tells us that the One who hung there was also perfected. We understand our need to be perfected, but the idea that Christ was made more perfect baffles and confuses us. Yet, the writer of Hebrews (2:10) tells us, “ For it was fitting that he, for whom and by whom all things exist, in bringing many sons to glory, should make the pioneer of their salvation perfect τελειωσαι through suffering … the suffering of the Cross.

It helps to consider this word “ to perfect” or “make perfect” in the original Greek. Τελειόω, the verb form here (and various parts of speech following), is more clearly understood as “to complete, to accomplish, to carry through completely, to finish, to bring to an end, to fulfill.” We can see its theme throughout the gospels and its culminating result on the Cross. There, Christ’s mission on earth and the purpose of his incarnation in time and space, were completed. The Lamb, slain before the foundation of the world cried out in his human flesh, “It is finished” (John 19:30). His saving work was accomplished, carried to completion, brought to an end, finished … τετελεσται.

We, as Christ’s followers and the children God desires for his family, are to be completed as well. He wants us to be the mature sons and daughters in the experience of our lives that he knew us to be in his will, the place of our conception. Jesus tells us in Matthew 5:48, “You, therefore, must be perfect τελειοι, as your heavenly Father is perfect τελειος.” We are the subjects of his mission to save. He has done his completing work and now we are invited to plunge into the living water of his resurrected life and submit ourselves to its purifying, refining effect. The Apostle Paul shares his assurance of this outcome in his letter to the Philippians (1:6), “being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion επιτελεσει until the day of Christ Jesus.” By faith, by perseverance, by following hard on the heels of the elder brother the Father has sent to bring us into his house we can safely trust that we will not only be lovingly welcomed, but also conformed to the image of his Son.

stations-of-the-crossIt is this following of Christ we prepare for in part when we meditate upon the Stations of the Cross. We are developing a framework within our moral and spiritual imaginations that eventually makes a transference and application into our real life situations and circumstances. Usually, we think of these stations during Holy Week prior to Easter. They remind us of the events of Christ’s Passion and are fruitful meditations for all the ordinary times too. Although only eight of the fourteen are specifically detailed in Scripture, the other six (3, 4, 6, 7, 9 and 13) have traditionally been included over the centuries. But they are more than tradition and pieces of a story to remember. They are daily opportunities, if we are willing, to enter in spirit and stand with Christ as witnesses at his trials and humiliations and beatings, to follow his painful faltering footsteps on the road to Golgotha and ultimately, to wince in horror as the soldiers smash spikes into his flesh. Going deeper, we might experience a more profound union … and feel flashes of his pain, suffer his exhaustion and the weakness of his ebbing life. There is no telling what mysteries God may choose to illuminate and how he will use his Son’s way to the Cross to exert his converting power on our minds, our hearts and our spirits.

Consider also what Jesus said to his disciples. “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me”(Matthew 16:24 and Luke 9:23). We walk and watch and learn from him at each station and step along the way to his Cross. Our mission, after all, is to also bear crosses … to take up our burdens, our people, our pains, our joys and the sorrows of life God ordains for us in the Body of Christ and to keep following him. Our mission is to continue bringing his kingdom from heaven to earth by offering each living act, even life’s drudgeries and common requirements as spiritual services of worship. We can only do it by his continual outpouring of grace. We can only do it as we see it already done in him. We can only do it as our spiritual imaginations are formed according to the example of Christ.

This is the example Jesus gave us in going the way of the Cross. It wasn’t the high, the glorious or the exalted way as we would wish and as we tend to think we must travel. It was the low, the inglorious and broken way. It is this way, after we have given ourselves over to the searching, desperate meditation of it … a way born from recognition of our staggering spiritual need … that eventually bears its fruit in us. It bears its fruit in boardrooms, bedrooms and schoolrooms … wherever life takes place, wherever we suffer scorn and condemnation, contempt and abuse. It bears its fruit when we are hurting in our bodies, our emotions and our spirits. It bears its fruit when we are abandoned, betrayed and denied. It bears its fruit when we are blind and breathless with sickness, pain and exhaustion. It bears its fruit when we are wiping the faces of our children, our loved ones, our weak ones and our old ones. It bears its fruit when we ourselves are dying. We remember our Savior in these moments and we follow him.

The Apostle Paul wrote, “I have been crucified with Christ; and it is no longer I who live, but it is Christ who lives in me …” (Galatians 2:19b, 20a). That is really the purpose of meditating on the Stations of the Cross. It is to submit all that we think and do and are into conformity with all that Christ is … until by his Spirit we are taken up into Him. Jesus expressed it this way, “I in them and you in me, that they may become perfectly τετελειωμενοι one, so that the world may know that you have sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me” (John 17:23). We are perfected and completed in communion with him and with his people, the Church. Our lives are the means by which he lives on earth today, the means by which his Kingdom and his love now come, wooing the lost into his perfecting embrace. Let us take up our crosses and follow him.

We adore you, Oh Christ, and we bless you.
Because by your holy cross you have redeemed the world.

Holy Week 2015: Glorified (Rob Grayson)

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“The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified.”

• John 12:23

According to John’s gospel, Jesus utters these words shortly after entering Jerusalem at the beginning of this holiest and darkest of weeks. The atmosphere is heavy with speculation that Jesus could be the one to spearhead the revolution that will finally throw off the shackles of Rome. The crowd, willing to believe this, fêtes Jesus as king as he rides into the city, completely missing the symbolic significance of the fact that he is riding not on a white charger but on a donkey’s colt.

Given so much hope of glory among both the populace in general and Jesus’ own disciples in particular (not long before, they were still arguing about who would get the best seats with Jesus in heaven), it’s easy to imagine how they might have understood Jesus’ comment that it was time for him to be glorified. Yes! It’s going to happen! Jesus is finally going to take his rightful place and ascend to his throne!

They were right: Jesus was going to take his place. But what they didn’t realise was this: in a world that prizes strength, ambition, power and cunning, enforced by violence and kept in motion by sacrificial religion, there is only one fitting place for a God who is and always has been infinite mercy and love: the cross.

That’s right: the throne to which Jesus would ascend was the cross.

This cross – this cruel, ugly instrument of death – was the place where the glory of God would be most clearly displayed to the world. How so? you ask. Because the glory of God is His love, and this is what love looks like.

Love does not insist on its own way; it does not bite back or lash out; it endures all things. It stretches out its arms and dies at the hands of those who were born out of that very same love. And as the nails go in, as the flesh tears and the blood flows, it says “Father, forgive”.

The cross tells us everything we need to know about the heart of God. It answers every question about human suffering, every cry of Why? and How long?, not with some kind of remorseless divine logic but with the body and blood of Christ. It is as though Jesus says this:

I see the kind of world you have made, a world ruled by control and blame. I know it’s going to cost me my life to show you that, in spite of all your violence, hatred, suspicion and fear, the heart of the Father is and always has been to forgive, to bind up, to heal and to restore. So here: take me, break me and kill me. I give myself willingly so that you may no longer have any doubt. Take, eat, for this is my body; feast on it in your sin and your shame, and I will give you in return neither vengeance nor judgement, but the blood of forgiveness. Can you not see the new thing I am showing you here?

And so, in a few hours, King Jesus, arrayed in purple and with a crown of thorns on his head, will ascend to his royal throne at Calvary, the seat of God’s undying love. For love is the one thing no cross can kill; it is stronger than death. The king will hang enthroned, and even as the dark clouds gather over Jerusalem, even as this broken man suffers the very worst that humanity can heap upon him, the glory of the love of God will shine forth from his heart, radiant like the bright morning star.

Do you see it?

Holy Week 2015: The Yes or No (Michael Spencer)

The Washing of the Feet, Howard
The Washing of the Feet, Howard

Then He poured water into the basin, and began to wash the disciples’ feet and to wipe them with the towel with which He was girded. So He came to Simon Peter. He said to Him, “Lord, do You wash my feet?” Jesus answered and said to him, “What I do you do not realize now, but you will understand hereafter.” Peter said to Him, “Never shall You wash my feet!” Jesus answered him, “If I do not wash you, you have no part with Me.”Simon Peter *said to Him, “Lord, then wash not only my feet, but also my hands and my head.”

• John 13:5-9 (NASB)

• • •

John’s account of the washing of the disciples’ feet is an important part of the Christian celebration of Holy Week. No more beautiful picture of the Gospel can be found anywhere in the Bible. Jesus acts out the profound truths of Philippians 2, where God becomes a servant, even to death on a cross.

No one disputes that the washing of the disciples’ feet is a picture of the work of God in Christ. Here is the forgiveness of God, the justification of sinful human beings, regeneration by the work of the Holy Spirit and sanctification by grace.

Prominent in this passage is Peter’s “No.” No- you will not wash my feet. And Jesus’ reply that if Peter does not consent to such a washing, he has no part in him.

What a stark reminder that we add nothing and contribute nothing to our salvation or to the work of God that accomplishes it, but there is still a “yes” or a “no” from Peter. Scripture does not hide or obscure that “yes” or “no,” but places it where any hearer will know that the same choice is before every person to whom Jesus offers himself as gracious savior.

If Christ offers Peter all, even to wash his feet while Peter does nothing, why is Peter struggling to say “yes,” rather than a prideful “no?” There is something about human beings that does not want to admit the need for being saved or to admit the kind of God who would offer to save us completely through his own gracious power and provision. Peter’s “No” echoes every “no” said to a condescending, kind and patient God throughout history.

Peter is showing that part of every person that strangely wants to say “Leave me alone,” rather than say “Yes, love me, wash me, save me, make me your own.” It is the moment of autonomy; the moment when self sees the conqueror coming to vanquish and runs into its fortress.

Of course, Jesus is persistent, not in weakly “knocking on the heart’s door,” but in speaking the Gospel. The Kingdom is here, and all that is required is your surrender. Calvinism or Arminianism aside, it is a very real, very personal surrender that the King demands, even in the form of a slave. “Yes,” and the servant King’s salvation baptizes you into those who belong to him. “No,” and you have no part in him, or his kingdom.

C.S. Lewis and Timothy Keller make it plain in their respective expositions of hell that, in the end, hell is full of people who prefer to be left alone. Hell is the extension of Peter’s “No, you will never wash me.” Hell is the place where the older brother withdraws in resentment over the kind of grace that would wash a prodigal of his mud and receive him back into the family.

The Washing of the Feet, Howard

There is that momentary, illusory pleasure of autonomy, and then the alone-ness. Some of us know it already and know it well. It is the ultimate drug of a fallen race.

For some years, my theology took away from me this “yes” and “no” that is such an important part of the Gospel. Speculations on sovereignty and predestination brought every discussion around to all the reasons why we can’t “make a decision.” An over-emphasis on total depravity erased the Biblical emphasis on what it means to be human before God.

Yet the simplicity of “yes” or “no” to the offer of Jesus with the basin and trowel cannot be hidden behind a stack of theology rhetoric. Jesus still says “Come to me and drink,” and we say “yes” or “no.” Speculations on causation are not on the agenda in this passage. Peter’s real, personal, completely authentic “yes” or “no” is, and we should be careful to never lose it.

In many ways, Jesus’ offer to Peter raises as many questions as it resolves, especially for a person who believes that the salvation we have in Jesus is sacramental and not a transaction. I don’t know the answer to those dilemmas. What I do know is that Jesus kneels before his disciples, with the shadow of the cross appearing on the horizon. He says he loves us and we will one day understand something of how much, but for now, he does all and is all for our salvation. Such a salvation is perfect in the mediator, and we give nothing for it nor do we prompt its completion. But our “yes” or “no” are present, real and essential to our humanity. To eliminate Peter’s “Yes” or “No” is to do enormous damage to what matters deeply in our relationship with God.

We say “Here I am. Wash all of me,” or we say “No. Not me. Not now. Not this way.” No amount of theology or interpretation can take away that moment when the basin and the towel come to us, and Jesus himself says “If I do not wash you….” There is no extensive footnote explaining how Jesus is making an offer that we are unable to accept. The basin, the towel and the question: these remain before us this Holy Week.