Tag Archives: ministry of Jesus

Ravi Zacharias Ministry – Wandering Aimlessly

 

Dr. John Ratey is a fan of walking with no purpose. A professor of psychiatry at Harvard Medical School, Ratey has done extensive research on exercise, creativity and depression. His research suggests that when we walk without any goal or agenda—when we wander, in other words—our brains are able to pick up more information.(1) In fact, walking aimlessly allows the free flow of thoughts and ideas that don’t occur when we focus on something specific. In addition to inspiring creative thought, Ratey has found that exercise can be therapeutic for depression and ADHD. When patients would walk for even ten minutes a day, these ailments would lift. Dr. Ratey notes, “A bout of exercise is like taking a little bit of Prozac and a little bit of Ritalin.”(2) Who knew that wandering aimlessly could be so good for well-being and creativity?

In a fast-paced and efficiency driven world, these ideas are counter-intuitive. For many, walking without any purpose sounds like a complete waste of time. After all, there is so much to do! Days overflow with so many demands on time and attention. Flooded by obligations, it is no wonder that hypertension, depression, and other stress-related diseases are so prevalent. Living life becomes all about doing, without much thought for being. Exercise, when it is undertaken, is for most just one part of a day’s hoped-for accomplishments. “Bucket lists” are created so that even the living of one’s life is marked by checking off one event or experience after another. As we move at hyper-speed, wandering for the sake of wandering sounds ridiculous.

While it would be unlikely to characterize the earthly ministry of Jesus as time spent wandering aimlessly, our efficiency-driven, goal-oriented world might wonder at his unusual pace and priorities during those short, three years. Some might wonder, for example, at the seemingly wasted hours eating and drinking with a sundry and often sordid cast of characters. Luke’s gospel alone mentions meals around the table (or implies them) ten times, with guests and hosts as diverse as religious leaders and tax collectors, lawyers and well-known sinners. When a highly regarded official begged Jesus to come and heal his daughter, Jesus is willing to be delayed by an unnamed, unknown woman grabbing the hem of his garment in spite of the throngs of people pressing around. In other words, Jesus willingly allows himself to be interrupted by a seemingly unimportant individual, on his way to the synagogue official’s home. Other times, the gospel writers tell of Jesus going off to ‘lonely places’ to pray. Even the way Jesus taught spiritual truths—the telling of parables and stories—suggests a whimsy, a wandering from a style of teaching that was purely didactic. And of course, while one could argue that the tremendous amount of time he spent walking the countryside was simply utilitarian, his willingness toward these disruptions, stories, and ministry along the way demonstrate otherwise.

Why would he have done it this way? From our modern perspective, it can seem like such a waste of time. Didn’t he need to save the world? Weren’t there more important things he should have been doing? Perhaps it is in these examples from his own life where even the casual reader might see a different set of priorities than those that govern most in the modern world. Perhaps Jesus understood the power of a long walk with his disciples, and the need for a story to pull in listeners. Perhaps Jesus understood that looking at the birds of the air and observing the lilies of the field could give life and strength to one’s being, gifts imbued by their Creator. Perhaps Jesus understood for himself the power of abiding in God as a result of his time spent alone in prayer. Perhaps Jesus knew that meaningful accomplishments were not always efficient and output is often a byproduct of input.

Considering Jesus’s way of being in the world—even when he knew his life would be cut short—I have been inspired to think about my own priorities and the manner in which I move through the day. Generally rushed and hurried, I wander from the path of busyness by rest and withdrawal, prayer and stillness. I stop to notice the purple Echinacea plant, rocking in time with the wind. I see the bees gathering pollen on its brown cones and antique violet petals. I allow myself to be distracted by the hummingbirds hovering around the feeder. I wander into my backyard, or through my neighborhood letting thoughts, feelings and prayers rise and fall with my breath and my steps. I allow the precious interruptions of colleagues, family, friends to call me more deeply into the kind of love Jesus demonstrated in his own ministry.

Meanwhile, all the tasks of the day still hound me; like barking dogs, they will not relent at demanding my attention. Their urgency conspires against my attempts to intentionally slow the pace of the day. I hear a persistent chorus singing the minor note that I am wasting my time. I am not immune to the compulsion to view my worth by my productivity, my busyness, or by how many items I’ve crossed off my ‘to do’ list.

And yet, the busyness is not what is useful nor is it what brings meaning, beauty, joy, or wonder to living. Creating space for wandering in the crowded days and weeks of our lives allows our thoughts to roam toward new priorities and paths, toward encounters along the road that surprise and nourish the soul, like the disciples who walked unknowingly with the risen Jesus. Wandering—whether that involves the purposeless walking of Dr. Ratey, being distracted by beauty in the person right in front of us or in the natural world, or the intentional withdrawal into silence, stillness, and prayer—is itself a purposeful work.

Margaret Manning Shull is a member of the speaking and writing team at Ravi Zacharias International Ministries in Bellingham, Washington.

(1) Robin Young and Jeremy Hobson, “Why Walking Matters” Here and Now (Monday, May 19, 2014).

(2) Ibid.

Ravi Zacharias Ministry – Dust and Ashes

 

The life and ministry of Jesus—his birth, his life and death, his resurrection and ascension—are all echoed in the celebrations and seasons of the church year. For the Christian, preparations are made for his coming during the season of Advent. Anticipation is garnered for the triumphant entry of God into the world in Jesus on Christmas Day, while the season of Epiphany unfolds further glimpses of his life and ministry. Each season of the church year is filled with expectation, discovery, and hope.

Ash Wednesday begins the season of Lent. And unlike Advent, Christmas, and Epiphany, Lent is a solemn season for the Christian. As part of the Ash Wednesday worship service, ashes are imposed on one’s forehead in the pattern of a cross. The imposed ashes are from the previous year’s Palm Sunday fronds—fronds reminiscent of those waved triumphantly as Jesus entered Jerusalem on his way to Golgotha. The Jews believed he entered the city as the coming King; they did not yet understand he would reign through suffering and death.

These ashes remind us of our common destiny: “From dust you come and to dust you shall return” (Genesis 3:19). For the Christian, the Lenten season is also meant to remind us of our common mission to walk the path with Jesus toward death. It invites us to lose our lives in order to find them anew, resurrected with Jesus on Easter morning.

Whether or not one actively observes Lent, the season can serve as an invitation to evaluate our own lives and to examine the invitation of Jesus to die with him. We can enter this deathly contemplation with the anticipation of resurrection on Easter morning. But Christ’s path to resurrection is the path of laying down lives, the path of relinquishment, and the path of self-denial. This path feels entirely unnatural, for it takes us in the opposite direction of self-preservation.

Yet, Jesus said that if anyone wants to follow him, if anyone really wants the kind of life he offers, the kind of life he modeled for us in his own, then they must deny themselves, take up the cross and follow him. Following Jesus will lead us all to the cross, and will lead us all to the place of death. For the Christian, this is the downward journey of Lent. “From dust you have come, and to dust you shall return.” Of course, regardless of the gods we follow, we all share in this destiny; like Jesus, we, too, will die. The pressing question, in light of this common destiny, is how shall we now live? How shall my life today respond to the reality of death and the invitation of life?

The life of Dietrich Bonhoeffer provides an illustration of one answer to this question.(1) Bonhoeffer grew up in a home full of privilege and status. His father, a prominent psychiatrist, provided the best of what life had to offer. Bonhoeffer attended the finest university, and took a year before his ordination to study in the United States. His life was filled with promise and potential.

Yet, this life seemingly marked for success, would be marred by loss and suffering. He lost one brother in World War I and he would lose another in World War II. He eventually would be arrested by the Nazi regime for aiding Jews to safety. And while he embraced the risk of peace and dared to love in the face of one’s enemies, he would be implicated in a plot to assassinate Hitler and executed at the age of 38.

In fact, it was not until after his death that Bonhoeffer’s ministry and influence had its most potent force. Many are now familiar with his books The Cost of Discipleship and Life Together. He has been a theologian of immense influence, not just for students of theology, not simply for Christians yearning to grow in their understanding of discipleship, but for a watching a world full of questions about injustice and suffering. In his letters and papers published posthumously, Bonhoeffer argued that the will of God and the way of discipleship would not always lead to self-preservation or advancement. The will of God involves giving our lives for the sake of others (which Bonhoeffer believed would be the case for his action against Hitler). He wrote, “Christ’s vicarious deeds and particularly his death on our behalf, become in turn the principle and model of the self-sacrifice that makes community possible… [T]he church is the church only when it exists for others.”(2)

Following the downward path of Jesus can lead to a renewed, hopeful, and restored vision of life for anyone. For as we embrace our inevitable deaths and declines, as we embrace the downward path, we have the opportunity to let go of the false things we think make up our lives. We let go of thinking that the accumulation of wealth, power, and resources make up a good life; we let go of thinking that busyness makes us important; we let go of thinking that our personal safety and security are to be preserved at all cost. And as we let go, we can embrace those who make life fullest, we can put others’ interests before our own, and exist for the sake of others. And what is done on behalf of others for the sake of Christ will indeed endure beyond our deaths.

The season of Lent is the season of dust and ashes. It is the journey toward one man’s death on a cross and toward our own. Bonhoeffer understood this as he wrote from his prison cell, and Jesus understood this as he bore the weight of suffering, misunderstanding, shame, and death at Golgotha. The way to resurrection life is not by saving our lives, but in losing them. Whether one observes Lent or not, the call to “take up our crosses” is issued to all.

Margaret Manning is a member of the speaking and writing team at Ravi Zacharias International Ministries in Seattle, Washington.

(1) Biographical information on Dietrich Bonhoeffer excerpted from Martin Doblmeier interviewed on Speaking of Faith, Feb. 2, 2006. Doblmeier produced the 2003 documentary, Bonhoeffer, broadcast on PBS.

(2) Dietrich Bonhoffer, A Testament to Freedom: The Essential Writings of Dietrich Bonhoeffer, edited by Geffrey B. Kelly and F. Burton Nelson (New York: HarperCollins, 1995), 343.

 

Ravi Zacharias Ministry – Sign and Signifier

 

Harold Camping, former president of Family Radio, declared that the world would end on May 21, 2011.(1) Camping was in good company when he made this kind of prediction. The Mayan prediction of the end of the world, popularized in the film 2012, has brought searching for the signs of the end times into the popular culture. But for Camping, this was not the first time that he made this kind of prediction based on the ‘signs of the times’. On September 6, 1994, dozens of Camping’s followers gathered in Alameda, California to await the return of Christ, an event Camping had been preaching about for two years. Despite Camping’s careful calculations and reading of the signs that pointed to his return, Jesus did not return. Camping later conceded that he misread the signs. Whether through mathematical formulae or symbolic codes contained in Scripture, as in Camping’s case, or watching after political maneuvers, leaders, and geo-political reorganization, many become obsessed with finding signs for the end of the world.

But there are other signs some seek as well. Interestingly enough, the Christian season of Epiphany is also a season of signs. The signs of Epiphany are not for calculating the end of the world, nor are they the signs seemingly marked out in geo-political happenings. Instead, those who enter into this season are asked to seek signs that reveal the identity of Jesus as God’s chosen Messiah for the world. Beginning with the visit of the foreign magi, who found Jesus by seeking signs in the stars, followed by the baptism of Jesus by his cousin John, and the various miracle stories in the earthly ministry of Jesus, the season of Epiphany enjoins all seekers after signs to look again at the ‘sign’ of Jesus.

For this reason, Christian worship often uses the text of John’s Gospel during Epiphany. For in John’s Gospel, seven signs are recorded by the evangelist: the miracle at the wedding of Cana, the healing of the nobleman’s son, the healing of the paralytic, the feeding of the five thousand, Jesus’s walking on water, the healing of the man born blind, and the raising of Lazarus. All reveal something unique about this man from Galilee.

In John chapter 6, a poignant and theologically rich section of the evangelist’s narrative, the multitudes come seeking a sign from Jesus. Many of these seekers have just been fed by Jesus in what has been called the feeding of the five thousand (see John 6:1-14). Still, they ask him, “What then do you do for a sign that we may see and believe you?” Jesus answers them by saying that he is the bread of heaven. That is, in his very person life and sustenance reside! He is the sign from God! And yet the people do not believe him. They continue to seek for other signs and wonders. Even the most religious among them, specialists in the interpretation of signs, grumble that Jesus claims to be the bread of heaven. Jesus rightly proclaims, “But I said to you, you have seen me, and yet do not believe.”(2)

What are the signs that you seek? Sometimes, we seek the signs and miss the reality towards which they point. Christians and all seekers can wonder together in the season of Epiphany—and in light of John’s sign-filled narrative—what is the point of a sign if it does not inspire belief? That is to say, what is the point of a sign if it does not instill faith as opposed to fear, belief and hope rather than dread or simply amazement, as one would view a magic trick? In this sense, the miracle-signs of Jesus invite sign-seekers further into his unique life. Simply seeing the signs, like only seeing the trees and not the forest, is not the point. The signs reveal the signifier. He is both sign and sustenance, wonder and life itself.

Margaret Manning Shull is a member of the speaking and writing team at Ravi Zacharias International Ministries in Bellingham, Washington.

(1) Justin Berton, “Biblical scholar calculates the world will end next May,” San Francisco Chronicle, January 4, 2010.

(2) John 6:36.

Ravi Zacharias Ministry – Gifts and Giver

Ravi Z

Over two hundred years ago during the heart of the Methodist revival in England, Christian minister John Wesley recorded his deep reservations about the movement’s ability to sustain itself. Even as thousands and thousands were responding to Christ, he wrote about the inevitable decline and dissolution of this Christian revival. What would prompt his despairing prediction in the throes of revival’s raging fires? His journal records his answer:

“I fear, wherever riches have increased, the essence of religion has decreased in the same proportion. Therefore, I do not see how it is possible, in the nature of things, for any revival of religion to continue long. For religion must necessarily produce both industry and frugality, and these cannot but produce riches. But as riches increase, so will pride, anger and love of the world in all its branches.”(1)

Contemporary reports of declining numbers of those who identify as “Christian” and a parallel decline in church attendance seem to affirm Wesley’s worst fears. Indeed, Christian leaders speculate that if current trends continue in England, for example, Methodists will cease to exist in that country in less than thirty years.(2) And while Wesley’s identification of wealth might be only one factor of many that has contributed to a decline in a robust Christianity, the decline has happened and is happening nevertheless. Corroborating the seemingly inverse relationship between wealth and faith, historian Philip Jenkins documents the rapid rise of Christianity in the Global South where material wealth is often much less in comparison to Western nations.(3) In light of Wesley’s fear, it seems reasonable to ask if the growth of Christianity in the Global South is related to relative poverty, and the decline of Christianity in the Global North is related to relative wealth?

Of course, Wesley’s concern was firmly rooted in the teaching ministry of Jesus. Long before Wesley issued his warning, Jesus warned his own followers: “No servant can serve two masters; for either he will hate the one, and love the other, or else he will hold to one, and despise the other. You cannot serve God and riches” (Luke 16:13). Jesus leaves little room for interpretative maneuvering or middle ground. There is always a choice, but one master will prevail.

In fact, Jesus had more to say about money than almost any other subject. Prior to issuing this warning about the inability to serve two masters, he tells a story about a shrewd money manager having to account for his use of money before his very wealthy boss. Initially, he is squandering what has been entrusted to him, and it is his careless ways that prompt the call to account for his use of another’s possessions. He quickly goes and collects a portion of what is owed by those who were in debt to the wealthy owner. And the wealthy owner, even though he does not collect all of what is owed to him, praises this man for his shrewd action.

So how do the hearers and readers of these stories connect a story of commendation for shrewd action on the part of the steward and this warning of not being able to serve two masters? Perhaps it is in the message to utilize resources—regardless of whether or not we feel we are in the relatively wealthy or relatively poor category—in a way that is wise. And what is that wisdom? We are entrusted with gifts and opportunities by someone else. Whether one comes to these stories through the eyes of faith or not, all who work were given a first opportunity, or that first open door by someone else. We might think we are making our own way in the world, but someone has provided an opportunity for us whether directly or indirectly. And that opportunity can be squandered or stewarded. Whatever one might count as personal ‘wealth’ is never something that is possessed, but something that is entrusted for good use in this world.

For Christians, the stewardship of our lives is a gift and a responsibility from God. The temptation to serve the gift, rather than the Giver is ever-present. Wesley’s words are haunting: As riches increase, so will pride, anger, and love of the world in all its branches. The riches of life, when not viewed from the perspective of a steward can ensnare one in the worst vices. Sadly, as Wesley understood, the very blessing of wealth grown and nourished through frugality and diligence could equally become a curse. Our own individual lives are often microcosms of this struggle. We far too often worship wealth rather than the God who gave it.

For those who live in the United States, the season of Thanksgiving can prompt us to ask: how might rich, Western Christians escape the perils of loving money more than God? The answer is not necessarily in the abolition of wealth, but rather in wealth’s proper stewardship in our world as a blessing for others. “For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.”(4)

John Wesley understood this, and in the spirit of Jesus re-iterates the same idea: “If those who gain all they can, and save all they can, will likewise give all they can, then the more they gain, the more they will grow in grace, and the more treasure they will lay up in heaven.”(5)

Margaret Manning Shull is a member of the speaking and writing team at Ravi Zacharias International Ministries in Bellingham, Washington.

(1) Cited in an article by Philip Yancey, “Traveling with Wesley” Christianity Today, November 2007, vol 51, No. 11.

(2) Ibid.

(3) Philip Jenkins, The Next Christendom: The Coming of Global Christianity. (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002). See also, The New Faces of Christianity: Believing the Bible in the Global South. (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2008).

(4) Cited from The Works of the Rev. John Wesley, vol. XV (London: Thomas Cordeux, 1786).

(5) Luke 12:33-34.