disclosing new worlds

Jesus and John the Baptist: the priority of grace over judgement
“What’s So Amazing About Grace?” Philip Yancey entitled his book. The answer is, it shouldn’t happen! Of course, that is simply to repeat one of the definitions of grace: it’s undeserved favour or mercy from God. But I mean more than that. Grace shouldn’t happen because we don’t like it! It’s offensive. It sticks in the throat. It is unjust. Unfair. It upsets everything. It breaks all the rules. We would rather live without it. And God has no business being gracious! That is not God’s job! How on earth are we to know where we are with a gracious God? Grace means tossing out the rule-book. It means chaos! What happens to all our neatly-drawn boundaries of who’s in and who’s out? What happens to our carefully and intricately worked out rules about winners and losers, justice and just deserts, responsibility and accountability? I might be able to handle God being gracious to me – and to people like me. But as something let loose universally and indiscriminately in the world? No thanks! There’s no room for grace on this here planet! And before you protest too much and too loudly that you don’t think that way at all, remember: we crucified the Lord of glory!
Yet grace is what it’s all about. CS Lewis once wandered into a very animated multi-faith meeting, in which the participants were agonising over what – if anything – was distinctive and unique that Christian faith has to offer. It was a discussion that had been running for some time, and they asked Lewis what he thought. He replied immediately. “That’s easy! It’s grace!” and off he wandered again. The longer the delegates talked, the more they realised that Lewis was right. There are stories in other faiths of gods coming down to earth, and of dead people being raised. There are stories of miracles and justice movements. But there is no parallel to the astounding grace of God that we find in Jesus. Grace is, indeed, what it’s all about. It’s what we’re about. It’s what Jesus was all about. That is the point that Luke hammers home again and again. These bible studies will look at three key points in the gospel at which Luke goes to extraordinary pains to tell us about grace, and how new and amazing it is. We start with John the Baptist – the prophet who died, wondering if he’d got it all wrong. It’s a play in three scenes:

Scene 1: “Turn or burn!” (Luke 3: 1-20)
All of the gospel writers start their stories of Jesus’ public ministry with John the Baptist. John is the herald – the Elijah figure. He appears first on stage. He’s a powerful figure – striking and effective. He appears suddenly in the wilderness (and in the text!). He’s so clearly important and startling that, in terms of the drama and the staging, the audience is left wondering, “Is this the one?” Of course, he isn’t. He comes on precisely in order to be eclipsed by the main character, Jesus! He is distinguished from Jesus in terms of importance: he (John) is a prophet; Jesus is the Messiah. He is a man of God; Jesus is the Son of God.

Yet Luke goes much further and into his own unique territory in contrasting Jesus and the Baptist. John isn’t the most important figure on the stage – at all! “In fact,” says Jesus, “the least in the kingdom of God is greater than he!” (7:28) He says this in response to John’s question: “Are you in fact the messiah, or have I got this all wrong?”

Luke doesn’t just have John fade away off the scene, leaving the stage to Jesus: he has John, shut away in prison, in an agony of self-doubt over his whole ministry of heralding! And 7:28 is Jesus’ startling verdict on John. How could John have got Jesus so wrong? That’s the question Luke faces us with. And the answer is, “Grace!”

The prophet of judgement
John appears proclaiming “a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins” (3:3). He is a baptising prophet. The people’s wickedness has provoked God’s anger. Judgement is coming – imminently! Look at how he treats his audience in vv7ff. “You brood of vipers!” – hardly your typical URC opening to a sermon! His message is clear – there’s no escaping the trouble that’s coming! God is on the warpath. There are two choices: turn or burn! The water or the flames. Which is it to be?

John’s audience (and we as Luke’s readers) are in familiar territory here. This is Old Testament stuff – and I use the phrase “Old Testament” quite deliberately, because that is precisely what Luke is trying to tell us this is all about. The contrast is between what has gone before and has always been; how God has appeared, acted and been understood, and what is radically new and different about God’s actions in Jesus. We sit here, in Luke 3, at the fulcrum of the swing from old to new. But for the moment, here in John’s sermon – his prophetic rant – we are quite firmly in the “old”.

People’s messianic expectations are likewise thoroughly “old-school”. John is so fearlessly virulent, so compelling a preacher, so vivid in his conviction of terrible, imminent destruction and the need for immediate repentance and change, that his audience was “was filled with expectation, and began to ask themselves whether John was the Messiah” (v15). John fitted their messianic job description.

Note John’s response (vv 16-17). It boils down to this: “No, I’m not the Messiah. If you think I’m hardcore, just wait till you see who’s coming! You’re impressed that I baptise with water? The Messiah will baptise with Holy Spirit fire – and that is not something you want to be around for! It’s sorting time. He’s going to thresh the granary floor, separate the wheat from the chaff, and burn up that chaff with unquenchable fire!” Then Luke adds, “So, with many other exhortations, he proclaimed the good news to the people” (v18)!

John’s good news is this: the burning is coming, but (thank God!) turning is possible! There’s a fast-closing crack in the doorway of opportunity. Take it now! Don’t miss out, because when the Messiah comes, it’s too late! Then just watch and see the smoke!”

Scene 2: The messianic manifesto (Luke 4: 16-22)
The sermon in Nazareth is Jesus’ first public appearance since his baptism. This is where he sets out his stall. And it’s where the first major surprise and upset takes place – for Jesus’ audience and for us, the readers. What is surprising is the contrast between what we’re expecting and what we actually get. What are we expecting? Judgement! John the Baptist, remember, has linked three things in Jesus: messiah, Holy Spirit, and judgement. Immediately after his announcement about the coming Messiah, Jesus is baptised, the Holy Spirit descends and the voice from heaven declares Jesus to be God’s Son (3: 21-22). No mistaking it, is there? Jesus is revealed as the main character. Something radically new is happening here. The Messiah is here – and he’s nothing less than the Son of God! And as the Son of God, he’s “full of the Holy Spirit”. Chapter 4 begins, “Jesus, full of the Holy Spirit, returned from the Jordan and was led by the Spirit into the wilderness, where for forty days he was tempted by the devil” (4:1-2a). He emerges from that encounter strengthened. Luke begins the public ministry narrative: “Then Jesus, filled with the power of the Spirit, returned to Galilee …He began to teach in their synagogues and was praised by everyone” (4: 14a-15).

We can’t miss Luke’s point: Jesus is brimming with the Spirit! He’s making one heck of an impact – he’s the hottest news around in next to no time! What we perhaps do miss (because we’re jaded readers who know the story too well) is that Jesus’ audience in the Nazareth synagogue was expecting their Messiah to give them something very different from what they got! Luke’s set it – and us – up beautifully. Jesus + Messiah + Holy Spirit = radical judgement. Jesus is the super-prophet – the one who has come not only to announce but to enact God’s angry judgement!

And he starts well! He picks up the scroll and chooses Isaiah 61. It’s a good text for a prophet – your classic “good news and bad news”. Jesus reads out the first two verses, and sits down to teach. Luke says “The eyes of all in the synagogue were fixed on him”. Can’t you see it? Everyone waiting in hushed expectation, desperate to hear what he was about to say? Luke isn’t exaggerating here. The dramatic tension is there in the synagogue. It’s electric – and Jesus has yet to open his mouth. Why?

The answer is because of what Jesus has already said – or rather not said! He’s stopped at 61:2a. And the bit he’s left out is the line “… and the day of vengeance of our God”! Do you see? Jesus is supposed to be vengeance of God incarnate. Here he is, laying out his stall at the onset of his ministry – and it’s precisely the “vengeance” bit (the winnowing fork, threshing and burning) that he chooses to omit. No wonder they were waiting with bated breath. No wonder Luke goes on to say, “All of them were amazed at the gracious words that came from his mouth” (4:22). Prophets were not supposed to do that – especially a super-prophet, brimful with the Holy Spirit!

Right at the outset, Luke draws our attention to what is new in Jesus. His prophetic message stands in stark contrast to that of the Elijah-figure whom we have already met (John the Baptist). And the contrast is between judgement and grace. People hear words of grace – and find it amazing!

It goes rapidly downhill from here, of course – or, rather, uphill! By the end of the sermon, they take him up a hill to throw him off and kill him – prefiguring what is to come, and an indicator of how this grace is finally going to be received. But what we need to note is how new and astonishing this message of grace is.

Scene 3: “What’s going on here?” (Luke 7: 18-23)
In 7:11-17, Luke recounts the raising of the widow’s son at Nain. I want us to note the significance of the people’s reaction to this in 7:16: “Fear seized all of them, and they glorified God, saying, ‘A great prophet has risen among us!’ and ‘God has looked favourably upon his people!” Note that these are two sentences – not one! Luke is emphasising the fact that two sentences are uttered about Jesus in the same breath that would not usually be joined: the presence of a prophet and the presence of God’s favour (as opposed to judgement). Prophets weren’t supposed to go around emphasising God’s favour! The shocking juxtaposition of the two sentences is Luke’s way of emphasising that what is different and new about Jesus is grace. And this is the report that reaches John, languishing in prison because of his fearless, prophetic denunciation of Herod. Luke picks up the threads of the story of John from where he had left them at 3:20.

John’s reaction is incredibly poignant. Imagine him in prison, awaiting certain death. He has done his job. He has not backed down. He knows his ministry – along with his life – is finished. His one consolation is that he has let the Messiah loose. Or has he? Was he actually mistaken? Had he made a ghastly, tragic mess of the whole thing? He wonders that because of how Jesus is behaving. Where’s the fire? Where’s the judgement? Why is Jesus getting a reputation as a peddler of grace? What’s going on here? That’s what he sends his messengers to find out. His question to Jesus via the messengers in 7:19 is both an accusation and a cry of bewildered despair: “Are you the one to come, or do we wait for another?”

Look at Jesus’ reply. “Go tell John about all the wonderful, gracious things you have heard of God doing through me!” And then that gentle yet awful rebuke: “And blessed is anyone who takes no offence at me” (7:23).

What is Jesus’ point? It’s this: in him, Messiah-time has indeed arrived. This is the climax of all that God has done and is doing in history. That is as people expected. But Messiah-time isn’t the time of fire and judgement and divine anger that people expected! Instead, it’s a time of grace. This is the time for the “little people” – the forgotten, excluded and despised. It is thoroughly – and only – “Good News”! That should provoke a reaction of rejoicing. John should be amazed and thrilled by grace. Instead, he is offended. He is righteous. He has been faithful. And now he wants to be vindicated! This should be the time when the righteous get rewarded, and the wicked get their come-uppance. He was waiting for that! He wanted that! He had so been looking forward to some good old prophetic spectator-sport (in an entirely proper, non-voyeuristic sort of way, you understand) when God’s Messiah turned up with his winnowing fork and thunderbolts. And now John feels cheated. Jesus has been a major disappointment to him – so much so that there could only be one logical conclusion: Jesus is not the Messiah!

Yes, grace has an amazingly sweet sound – to “wretches” who hear it as undreamed-of invitation from God! Yet to the “righteous” – good, religious people like us, who struggle to be faithful, agonise over our failures and face constant, frightening and soul-destroying opposition because of our commitment to following Jesus, the sort of grace that Jesus offers is offensive. It’s unjust. And so we’re far more comfortable with John-the-Baptist preaching than with grace. Think how the Reformed tradition has classically framed the gospel message: first explaining how offended the holy God is by our sin, and how by rights we ought to be destroyed, but can escape God’s judgement and condemnation through faith in Jesus. Doesn’t that sound more like the Jordan, with John in the watery pulpit, than like Jesus? Doesn’t the gospel of the unconditional, loving invitation of God to Life sound suspiciously and uncomfortably like a “free lunch”? Doesn’t it sound unacceptably “soft” on sin and judgement?

We are the Church – followers of Jesus Christ, not John the Baptist. We are people of the new covenant, not the old. It is a covenant of grace, from first to last. It is the message that Jesus brought: “This is what God is like!” It is Good News! And blessed is anyone who doesn’t take offence at it. Amen.

© Lawrence Moore 2006