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Today’s Text

This is an odd little story. It has no parallel in the other gospels. It is so personal and intimate and it highlights some of the great things about Luke’s gospel. We have already noted but it is worth noting again that Luke is perfectly content to mix up the grand with the intimate. Matthew will us about angels and kings form the east, but it is from Luke that we hear about babies leading in wombs. In this same way, we have just seen how Luke mixes the intimacy of a babies blessing with the profound theological teaching about Christ’s role as the fulfillment of Israel’s hope and God’s purposes.

And then we come to today’s text.

It certainly is a nice story. We get a glimpse into the family life of Jesus. This story carries all the kinds of intimate details that we love to find in Luke’s gospel. But does it carry the same theological weight? I think that the answer is no. And I think that is okay.

There are certainly some important theological gems hidden in here, but I think that this story is especially important because of what we learn about the people.

• We learn that Jesus’ family is particularly devoted to the worship of God. Luke tells us that that they went up to Jerusalem every year for the Passover. This was an unusual lever of devotion. Especially for a family that was not professionally religious – he was a carpenter not a levite – to travel every year for the festivals was rare in that period.
• We learn that Jesus has lousy parents. Just kidding. Really we are reminded that Jesus grew up a in a sociological world of extended families and interconnected communities. As a group they would have traveled to Jerusalem.
• We learn that Jesus was hungry for the things of God.
• We learn that Jesus was obedient.
• We learn that Jesus grew.

I think that perhaps this last one, is the one that we are least likely to believe. We may sing songs about Jesus as a baby, but we sort of assume that he always knew everything that was going on in the back of his head. But Luke could not be clearer. Jesus grew in wisdom.

I have been thinking about discipleship (ie. following Jesus) a lot lately. As I think about that I am comforted that the one I follow grew. So apparently if I follow him, I should expect that I will be growing. That is good news, because I need to grow in wisdom.

In fact, as I look through the list above of the things we can learn from this simple story, I realize that I want all of these truths to be truth of me and my family.

• I want my family to be devoted to patterns of worship that will shape my life and that of my family.
• I want my kids to grow up in web of interconnected relationships. Two parents aren’t enough, they need dozens of adults who are committed to their care and spiritual growth.
• I want to be hungry for the things of God.
• I want to be obedient.
• I want to grow in wisdom.

The value of this story is not in its theological weight but precisely in its intimacy and its apparent normalcy. It is when these traits are no longer special events but part of the fabric of our lives that we are transformed.

By giving us a glimpse into the rhythm of their everyday lives, we learn more than we ever expected.

-Ethan

Today’s Text

We have talked a lot about the portents of discontinuity so far in this text. (I haven’t used that language so if you are thinking, “No we haven’t.” then you are right.) We have seen that in the context of the first chapter, Luke prepares us for a radically new thing that is happening. We are warned that the politcal and social world is being turned upside down. In my post this morning, NT Wright opened the Christmas story in a new light that reminded us that it is a politcally subversive text. So far, Luke’s story is one of stark and in some ways even threatening discontinuity with the status quo.

In light of this , it is good to pause on this beautiful scene of Jesus’ naming and blessing. Here we see that although Jesus may represent a threat to the politcal establishment and that his ministry is radically discontinuous with the status quo, it stands in remarkable continuity with one thing: The purposes of God.

Verse 21 serves as a transition verse. It wraps up the story of the birth with the naming and introduces the stories of the childhood and then three times in the next two verese we are reminded that Jesus is being blessed and sacrifices are being made in accordance with God’s law.

Simeon and Anna come forward and represent all the fathful of Israel hoping for the fulfillment of God’s promises. They both see in Jesus that God’s promises have now been fulfilled. Look back again at the details that Luke shares. The are old and have been waiting for a long time. They are people of hope who now can rest because the hope has been completed. The hope is not just their hope but the hope of the nation. It is an ancient hope. Luke intentionally provides narrative details to demonstrate that Jesus (”YHWH saves”) is precisely the salvation that God’s people have always been waiting for.

Luke tells us that they leave, when they have done “everything required by the law of the Lord.” On a narrative level this just means that they killed the right number of pigeons. (See Lev. 12 for more infor on the pigeons.) But more importantly the wraps up the biggger point that Luke wants us to see. This thing that will happen, that will overturn oppresion,(mary’s song) that will complete the work fo the prophets and the temple (Zechariah’s song), that will defy the empires of the world, will also fulfill that hope of Israel and the Law of Moses.

Joy to the World, the Lord is Come.

-Ethan

Ps. I hope that you have noticed all the times that is has been made clear that this Israelite Messiah is for all nations. We take that for granted of course, but that was still a debated question in Luke’s day.

Today’s Text

Luke begins the tale of Jesus birth just like any good Hellenist historian. He tells us who the emperor is. He places these events in their context, historically, geographically and politically. Bu tfrom their on out things get crazy.

Look at the characters as the are introduced: Caesar Augustus, Quirinius, Jospeh, Mary, the baby, the shepherds. With each step we leap down the social ladder. The heralds of the new king are shepherds.

I want to share a bit from NT Wrights new sommentary on Luke. This section is longer than i should share in a blog, but it is so good I can hardly help myself.

Here is what NT Wright says about this text:

If you try to point out something to a dog, the dog will often look at your finger instead of at the object you’re trying to point to. This is frustrating, but it illustrates a natural mistake we all make from time to time.

It’s the mistake many people make when reading the Christmas story in Luke’s gospel. What do people know about Jesus’ birth? The manger – the Christmas crib. The most famous animal feeding-trough in all history. You see it on Christmas cards. Churches make elaborate ‘cribs: and sometimes encourage people to say their prayers in front of them. We know about the animals, too, not that Luke even mentions any; the ox and the ass feature prominently in Christmas cards and carols, though there is no indication here either that the shepherds brought their own animals with them, or that there were any in the place where Mary and Joseph were staying.

Let’s be clear about where they were lodging. Tradition has them knocking at an inn door, being told there was no room, and then being offered the stable along with the animals. But the word for ‘inn’ in the traditional translations has several meanings, and it’s likely that they were, in fact, on the ground floor of a house where people normally stayed upstairs. The ground floor would often be used for animals – hence the manger or feeding-trough, which came in handy for the baby – but there is nothing to say that there were actually animals there at the time.

To concentrate on the manger and to forget why it was mentioned in the first place is like the dog looking at the finger rather than the object. Why has Luke mentioned it three times in this story?

The answer is: because it was the feeding-trough, appropriately enough, which was the sign to the shepherds. It told them which baby they were looking for. And it showed them that the angel knew what he was talking about. To be sure, it’s another wonderful human touch in the story, to think of the young mother finding an animal’s feeding-trough ready to hand as a cot for her newborn son. No doubt there are many sermons waiting to be preached here about God coming down into the mess and muddle of real life. But the reason Luke has mentioned it is because it’s important in giving the shepherds their news and their instructions.

Why is that significant? Because it was the shepherds who were told who this child was. This child is the savior, the Messiah, the Lord. The manger isn’t important in itself. It’s a signpost, a pointing finger, to the identity and task of the baby boy who’s lying in it. The shepherds, summoned in from the fields (like David, the shepherd boy, brought in from the fields to be anointed as king), are made privy to the news, so that Mary and Joseph, hearing it from this unexpected source, will have extra confirmation of what up until now has been their own secret.

We have to assume that the shepherds, like other Palestinian Jews at the time, including old Zechariah in the previous chapter, would have known what a savior, a Messiah, a Lord was to do. In case we need reminding, Luke has introduced the story by telling us about Augustus Caesar, way off in Rome, at the height of his power.

Augustus was the adopted son of Julius Caesar. He became sole ruler of the Roman world after a bloody civil war in which he overpowered all rival claimants. The last to be destroyed was the famous Mark Antony, who committed suicide not long after his defeat at the battle of Actium in 31 Be. Augustus turned the great Roman republic into an empire, with himself at the head; he proclaimed that he had brought justice and peace to the whole world; and, declaring his dead adoptive father to be divine, styled himself as ’son of god’. Poets wrote songs about the new era that had begun; historians told the long story of Rome’s rise to greatness, reaching its climax (obviously) with Augustus himself. Augustus, people said, was the ’savior’ of the world. He was its king, its ‘lord’. Increasingly, in the eastern part of his empire, people worshipped him, too, as a god.

Meanwhile, far away, on that same eastern frontier, a boy was born who would within a generation be hailed as ’son of God’; whose followers would speak of him as ’savior’ and ‘lord’; whose arrival, they thought, had brought true justice and peace to the world. Jesus never stood before a Roman emperor, but at the climax of Luke’s gospel he stood before his representative, the governor Pontius Pilate. Luke certainly has that scene in mind as he tells his tale: how the emperor in Rome decides to take a census of his whole wide domain, and how this census brings Jesus to be born in the town which was linked to king David himself.

Historians have puzzled about the census. The one taken when Quirinius was governor of Syria was considerably later than Jesus’ birth (and, interestingly, caused riots because the Jews resented being taxed by Rome). One way of translating the Greek here is to see this census as an earlier one, before the famous one under Quirinius. There are many puzzles the historians may never work out, and this may be one of them.

But the point Luke is making is clear. The birth of this little boy is the beginning of a confrontation between the kingdom of God – in all its apparent weakness, insignificance and vulnerability – and the kingdoms of the world. Augustus never heard of Jesus of Nazareth. But within a century or so his successors in Rome had not only heard of him; they were taking steps to obliterate his followers. Within just over three centuries the Emperor himself became a Christian. When you see the manger on a card or in a church, don’t stop at the crib. See what it’s pointing to. It is pointing to the explosive truth that the baby lying there is already being spoken of as the true king of the world. The rest of Luke’s story, both in the gospel and, later on, in Acts, will tell how he comes into his kingdom.

I highly reccomend the wonderful new commentary Luke for EVeryone. If you buy it, you will find these words on pages 21-24.

-Ethan

We’re about to embark on the “Christmas Story.” I’ll write about it this weekend. But first I thought I might invite a little sharing. I am wondering how this story has been used in your life.

My central memory of this story is from my Mom’s family. My mom is a PK (Preacher’s kid) and has four siblings. They are all loud, witty and sarcastic. Consequently Christmas is a wonderful occasion. It is loud and raucous. Filled with old memories and new ones. One of the few quiet memories, is the time when my Grandfather would insist that every one get quiet to hear the Christmas story. It often took longer to gather the family and get everyone quiet than it did to read, but either way, my Grandfather would insist.

I remember as a kid that I could tell this was important because it was the only time that my aunts would stop talking all at once. It became a tradition to complain about the reading, (especially if it was almost time to open presents) but eventually everyone would settle down. I don’t have many scriptures that are connected to events, but this text I think I will always hear in my Grandfather’s voice.

Anybody else have a Luke 2 story to share?

Today’s Text

The first chapter of Luke’s gospel is a study in contrast. He consciously works both ends of the spectrum. Like a good Greek historian, he starts with a word to his patron and a dscription of the geopolitical setting. Like a good Hebrew historian, he then focuses on God and a few individuals, and he relates intimate details and emotions. But this stylistic blend is just the first of many contrasting pairs.
Two visions, One to a priest in the temple in Jerusalem, the other to a girl in a village in Nazareth.

Two responses, one skeptical, one awefilled.

Two miraculous births, one old school (Aged barren couple is given a child to dedicate to the Lord, this plot line is almost overused in scritpure.) and one totally new and completely unexpected (No one was expecting a virgin to conceive and bear a son, no matter what Handel’s Messiah may say.)

Two sons, one a life-changing prophet (14-17) and one an eternal king (32-34).

Two names, John a name that had never been in the family, Jesus named for his dad. (ie. his heavenly father).

But the contrast that most intrigues me is that contrast between regime change and life change. Mary’s song is all about regime change. (Notice how her song connects with the Angels description in 33-34) In contrast, Zechariah’s song includes some regime change elements but they all have a more personal flavor. (Again this is in keeping with the personal tone of the Angels announcement in 14-17) His song seems to be anticipating the personal impact that his great upheaval will have. And he ends by anticipating a very personal transformation that is coming.

And you child, will be called the Prophet of the most High;
for you will go before the Lord to prepare his ways,
to give knowledge of ssalvation to his people in the forgiveness of their sins,
through the tender mercy of our God,
when the day shall dawn upon us from on high

to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death,
to guide our feet into the way of peace.

As Christians, we are used to talking about personal salvation and not used to talking about transforming the sturctures of the world so that they are brought under the reign of God. So to us it is the Magnificat (mary’s song) that sounds strange. But in some ways it is Zechariah’s songs, which explores the personal dimensions of the coming gospel that is really new. The Hebrew usually anticipated God’s great work in national terms. This personal picture of redemption would have been strange to their ears.
So we need to notice that both the narrative structure and the content call us to pay attention to both the global and personal implications of the Gospel. The good news is that God is establishing a kingdom that will overturn and subvert the kingdoms of the world. The good news is also that God offers forgiveness and salvation that can overturn the darkness in our lives. And if we ever forget we can just return to the songs of Mary and Zechariah.

-Ethan

Today’s Text

I suppose it is not surprising that we usually start the Christmas story in Luke 2. “In those days, Caesar sent out a decree, etc.” It is so beautiful. Babies and angels and shepherds are exactly the characters that should be in the Christmas story. Nevertheless, it is easy to forget that Luke 2 has a context. (In addition to its larger context in the story of God and Israel)

Most particularly the context of Luke 2 is Luke 1. For us to understand the implications of a young coulple travelling across the country to sign up for taxation as they hide from an evil and corrupt local king, we need to pay close attention to Luke 1. And especially, we need to pay attention to today’s text.

In Mary’s song she both summarizes what we have read so far and she offers foreshadowing of what is to come. She celebrates the reality that God (and not her) is doing great things and that she is God’s servant. [There is some important truth here that all God needs to do great things is a willing servant.]

I am fascinated most however by the second half of the song. In this section, I am fascinated by two things: the verb tense used to describe God’s great deeds and the nature of those deeds.

Paradox and Verb Tense

To be trusted is a wonderful thing. I remember once early in my marriage, I told someone that I would take care of something for them. They were doubtful, and my wife came to my defense, “He may forget and then stay up all night, but if he says he can do it then you can consider it done.” I glowed for weeks. I have let my wife down a lot and to hear her express faith in me in that setting meant so much to me. The part of her statement that I want to focus on is the phrase, “consider it done.” When we use this phrase, we are suggesting that something which most certainly is not done, is so certain to be done that we can already begin to think of it as done.

[One of the rules of gangster movies is that eventually someone will be instructed to whack somebody and they will respond, "Done." I love the confident presemuption of that response. Which is why I try to respond to requests that way as often as possible. Even if I don't follow through it gives the impression that I am a man of action and commitment.]

Mary expresses this kind of cconfidence through the verb tenses of her song. Jesus is still a fetus and Mary is singing about what God “has done.” Even before things have really gotten started, Mary is singing a song of completion. I admire that kind of faith. It is as if Mary is saying, “With God, you can consider it done.” That is such an important reminder for us. In so many ways we live in the “not yet” of God’s promises. Paul even uses the language of birth pangs to describe our longing for God’s completion. But like Mary we can be confident. Because God is commited we can begin to live in light of the coming victory that is even now secured.

Don’t you love it when one of the most signifigant paradoxes of our faith is hidden in the verb tenses of a teenage girl.

Having observed the opening summary of God’s commitment to act through the willing servant Mary, and meandered through the implications of the verb tense, I can no longer avoid the content of this song. In case you didn’t follow the link and read the text (You did didn’t you?) here are a few juicy parts from the end.

His mercy extends to those who fear him,
from generation to generation.
He has performed mighty deeds with his arm;
he has scattered those who are proud in their inmost thoughts.
He has brought down rulers from their thrones
but has lifted up the humble.
He has filled the hungry with good things
but has sent the rich away empty.
He has helped his servant Israel,
remembering to be merciful
to Abraham and his descendants forever,
even as he said to our fathers.”

Apparently something about this baby growing inside this teenage girl is going to turn the whole world upside down. I have trouble imagining what it would look like if I preached this sermon in downtown Baltimore. Who would hear it as good news? What if I stood and sang this song at my church? Who would hear it as good news? If the good news is that the world is being turned upside down, then for those currently on the top (like me I think) this is curious good news.

N.T. Wright reminds us that Mary sang this song as a Hebrew and so she knew that her child was the fulfillment of an ancient longing for God to come and set the world aright, to renew justice and righteousness where they was oppression and evil.

I read a book once called “In the Parish of the Poor” (I referenced the wrong book.  I will try to find the right one) it included long transcripts from community Bible studies in poor areas of South America. They loved this text. They talked about it for hours. One person read the text and suggested that this is why they should support the communists against the Americans. Another said, “No, this is why we should trust God to overthrow the Americans.”

I was stunned. They had no confusion. They knew that this text was good news for them and bad news for people like me. [Just for clarity, I neither support their politics nor their analysis of who their true enemy was.]

I was reminded that if we are goinng to be the church Jesus expects, then we need to be world turners. We need to be part of the solution to the ongoing oppression of our world, because God plans to repond, and Mary is so confident in God’s success that she can speak about it in the past tense.

I feel great tension because I guess that I can either be part of the solution or I am part of the problem.

-Ethan

I know that if I am going to make it through Luke I should really move on. And I hope to soon. (Maybe even later today.) I am having trouble for two reasons. First, I am having trouble finishing my post on Mary’s song in the next section. (Feel free to read ahead.) Second because I keep thinking about Mary’s words, “I am your servant.” (NIV)
Older translations render this word servant as “handmaid” or “bondmaid.” I am not a translation prude but I miss the old word. In part because translating it servant is sloppy. In part because these other words have so much more evocative power.

Servant is a sloppy translation, because the word used is the feminine form of doulos. Doulos means slave. It does not mean servant. “Servant” – as a word – lacks power because there are so many kinds of servants. Some serve by choice and other by coercion. Some serve for the money and if they decided not to get paid they could quit serving. This sense of “servant” and employee is so common in our household that the word has lost much of its power. It still implies a humble status but it has lost it connotations of obedience and subservience.

The closest our modern world might have to the image Mary uses is that of a personal assistant to a demanding boss (assuming that personal assistant did not get paid and could not quit). The personal assistant dedicates the whole day to the will and purposes of the boss. The archaic English word “handmaid” gets at this pretty well. This describes the role a noblewoman’s most intimate servant to responded and acted out her every need and in some sense acted as an extension of the noblewoman’s self.

I want to be that way with God.  I tremble to imagine what good purposes God could work in my life if I could commit to being his slave.  A lot in me fights that idea, but I know it would be great.  God has such good ideas.  He is always doing the coolest and best stuff, why wouldn’t I want to be totally on board.

I have a series of events in my last ministry called the Nights of the Bizarre.  When I invited my students to attend, I would never tell them what was happening.  I would only tell them how messy the event would be so they could dress appropriately.  My promise was this, If they came and they did what I said, they would have the time of their life.  If they didn’t they would regret it when they heard what happened.  The first one was my poorest attended event ever.  But I kept my word.  After one year, the Nights of the the Bizarre were my best attended events.  And I never once once told them what would happen before they came.

God is often just that mysterious, but God’s track record is even better.  I want to show up and say, “God I am your slave.  Your will is my will.  Your prupose is my purpose.  I don’t know what you have planned, but I am sure that it will be the time of my life, and if were to choose to follow some other way but yours, I know that I will regret having missed the great adventure you havve prepared for me.”

I know that in a few pages Jesus is going to challenge some people to follow him.

I’m in.

-Ethan

Today’s Text

You can take it as a given that there is always too much to discuss so I hope that you are brave enough to offer your questions. If you don’t want to post to the blog, then email me (ethan@besquared.org) and I will write a post just for you.

As I read this text, the first thing that jumped out at me was the contrast between Mary’s response and Zechariah’s. She is suprised and she asks questions. (Like Zechariah, she paid attention in health class.) But she does not ask, “How can I be sure?” There is no hint of “Prove It,” rather her response seems to convey wonder. And then having been told what God will do, she commits wholly to the method and will of God. As you can tell from my last post, I want this kind of attitude.

For me, one of the big obstacles to this attitude is fear. Apparently it was an obstacle for Mary too. Notice Luke’s clarity. She was not frightened at the angel’s appearance or voice. She was not surprised by the bright light. She was afraid of the message. So far she has been told that she is highly favored and the the Lord is with her. What exactly is fearful about this message?

I think that perhaps this text acknowledges that to be used by God is a fearful possibility. God’s servants will feast at the table one day, but first they will often pass through the valley of the shadow of death and even the feast comes in the presence of enemies. I think that part of the reason I am so quick with my rational objections (See the last post) is that inside I am afraid to let go. I am worried what God will do with my nice ordinary life if I really give God control. So I bargain and compromise and strike deals with God.

How differently Mary responds. “Behold the handmaid of the Lord.” or in NIV, “I am the Lord’s servant.”

Fear Not

That is the response I want. Despite my fear, because of my fear, I want to say, “I am the Lord’s servant. I will not be afraid because it is not in my hands. It is in God’s hands. I am God’s servant and that is enough. And as God’s servant, I will do God’s purposes, in God’s ways, for God’s glory.”

Mary got the message, and so the angel left.

-Ethan

Today’s Text

There is so much to talk about in this text and I plan to ignore the vast majority of it. In fact, here is a list of what I will NOT be talking about.

• The signifigance for the double decent from Aaron as a foreshadowing of John’s role.
• The implications of bearing the mantle of Elijah.
• The puns on hearing and speach, and angels (ie. messengers) and muteness that are everywhere in this section.
• What are they talking about in v. 8-10 about how the priestly system worked?
• The narrative suspense being built in this story by starting with a foreshadowing of a birth that isn’t even Jesus. Luke thinks that we need this narrative context for some reason. (In contrast to how a Bond movie (or the gospel of Mark) starts, with lots of action and little or no context.)
• This narrative introduction creates continuity with the great redemption narrative of which this is a part. One of the puzzles of Lukes gospel is that despite Greek authorship and audience, Luke cares a great deal about narrative and theological continuity with the Old Testament. Telling this story is a subtle but important example of that.

If you want to know more about the above topics, you will have to ask. If you don’t care, then don’t ask.
Instead I want to talk about the pendulum from smug self-satisfaction to personal conviction that I follow as I consider Zechariah’s response to the words of the angel. It happens the same way every time I read such story. The angel comes to someone, or someone sees a vision, and they respond with doubt or delay. And I think, “How could anyone refuse such a situation? How could anyone respond like this?” I often even go on to think, “I would not have responded like that. If I had a vision, if had a direct word from God, I would do it God’s way. I would never presume.”

But in my heart – even when I am stuck in smug self-satisfaction – I know that I am lying. I know that Zechariah’s impulsive doubt that God could do what God says pales in comparison with the lifestyle of scepticism that I often practice.

Recently, Evan and I were discussing how to water tomatoes. I had showed him twice and he was ready to try. He had his own idea of how to do it. I stopped him and explained, “That’s a good idea buddy, but it won’t work. You need to do it just like I showed you.” He tried again a different way from his first attempt but still not how I had showed him. (Just for clarity I want to assure you that his problem was not that he could not do it the way I had taught, it was that he would not.) I stopped him again and firmly explained, “Evan, there is one way to do this. If you won’t do it my way, you can’t do it.” So he quit. (Again – for clarity – he has since relented and is now excellent at watering plants. You can hire him for 10$ per hour.) As he left I found myself thinking, “Who in the world does he think he is? How could he possibly imagine that his way of doing something would be better than mine?”

As I reflect on this text today, those thoughts haunt me. You see, I do have direct access to words from God. I pretend that if an angel came it would be different, but I have the teaching of the very son of God. I have access to more direct teaching and instruction from God than Zechariah did, and yet I still say, “How can I be sure of this?” I am quite enamored with my own ideas. Like Zechariah, I know how the world works. Old women don’t have babies.

• God has said to me (and to you) directly, “Do not worry about you will wear or eat. Seek first the kingdom and all this will be added to you.” And I say, “How can I be sure of this, because I know how the world works, people who seek first the kingdom often don’t eat as well as I would like nor do they dress as comfortably as I want to.”
• God has said to me (and to you) directly, “Love your enemies. Do good to them.” And I say, “How can I be sure of this, for I have studied history and I know how the world works, many who have loved their enemies were killed by those enemies. Jesus’ love for enemies led to cross.”
• God has said to us directly, “Deny yourself, take up your cross and follow me.” And I say, “How can I be sure of this, for I know how the world works, if I don’t look out for myself no one will.”
• God has said to us directly, “If I am lifted up, I will draw all men to me.” And I say, “How can I be sure of this, for I know how the world works, people don’t want Jesus, they want better lives, and better marriages, and lower golf scores, they want their life – their best life – and they want it now. If all I offer is the life of Jesus in them, it is not enough.”
• God has said to us directly, “Come to me all who are burdened and I will give you rest.” And I say, “How can I be sure of this, for I know how the world works, who would get the work done, could I really rest? If I wasn’t busy how could your kingdom grow?”

I think that God roars – or whispers – BE SILENT. And then says,

You may think that you know how the world works,

but you have forgotten how I work.

Zechariah did not overestimate the challenge. His biology was right. Old men and old women do not have children. But he did underestimate his God. God delights in working against the grain. God brings children to the barren and eloquence to the shy and power to the humble and grace to the lost. I need this story. It is a great way to start a gospel because it reminds us that God’s ways are not our ways and God’s power is sufficient even against impossible odds. But even more, I need this story in my life.

I need to be reminded that all God asks is faithfulness to God’s ways and God’s plans, even when I cannot see their wisdom. I pray that I might object less to God’s ways and object more to the ways of Men. I prya that I will continually submit to God’s wisdom and will even when to follow them seems folly at best and impossible at worst.

-Ethan

Ps. If you have questions about that other stuff, feel free to ask. And if you have areas of God’s will that you find hard to trust, you can add to my list.

Today’s Text

I love the way Luke’s gospel begins. As we will see, there is long introduction before Jesus arrives. But even before the narrative introduction we have this preface of sorts where Luke speaks directly to the reader and answers two very important questions. He tells us why he wrote and how he wrote.

There isn’t much we can know about this character. There are two basic possibilities. They are pretty different. He could be a person – a noble most likely because the term “most excellent” was a specific honorific for a particular noble class. [A less lazy blogger would go look up the specific class.]

If this is the case, then he is certainly a Christian and probably the person who is sponsoring the publication of this book. It would be an expensive project to write and distribute a book of this length. Scribes would be needed and piles of paper. It was common in those days for a noble to fund the publication of an important work and be honored in an opening dedication. [This explains the hilarious pun - "a word from our sponsor."]
A second possibility is that this is an attempt to generically personalize the book. Theophilus means “lover of God” and could be a generic term for any Christian. In either case the first audience for this book was Christians and that will have signifigant implications for the stories Luke chooses and the whole feel of the gospel. I find myself favoring the first possibility these days, but I forget why. If you are passionate about this issue, we can schedule a cage match.

Now on to our main points.

Why did Luke write this book?

Well, In verse 4 he tells us, “so that you may know the certainty of the things you have been taught.” In the Message this reads, “so you can know beyond the shadow of a doubt the reliability of what you were taught.” Wouldn’t it be cool it Luke actually said that? Of course he didn’t. That is an entirely unreasonable standard of belief. Luke actually said, “That thou mightest know the certainty of those things, wherein thou hast been instructed.” Which is obviously easier to read in modern English, and these all mean basically the same thing.

Luke wrote to give a confidence boost. He knew that it was easy to forget that our faith was grounded in history – in events that really happened. So he decided to do the reasearch and checks his facts so that we could be confident in the stories we had been told. (Kinda like the Lee Stroble of the early church.) I find this very comforting. Luke recognized that the stories of Christ are remarkable. (In any other context we might even call them “unbelievable.”) Therefore it is important that an extra measure of care is taken to validate these dramatic claims. It is to provide this assurance that Luke writes. This reason for writing is intimately connect to how Luke wrote.

How did Luke write this book?

Luke acknowledges that he is an investigator. He is not an eyewitness. These are not his memories. He is a second generation Christian, and so like us he has to take someone’s word for it. And he is no fool, so when asked to believe such dramatic tales, he investigates. He describes three sources: Other writings, eyewitnesses and stewards of the word.

We can’t know eactly what other writings Luke knew. It is commonly thought by most scholars that Luke knew Mark and by a growing minority that Luke knew Matthew. Others suppose that both Matthew and Luke had access to a non-narrative “sayings source.” I think that these suggestions are all likely. It is expecially likely that Luke knew Mark. In every case however I think that we should be careful to draw conclusions from such speculation.

Luke’s second category is eyewitnesses. If Luke was writing in the Late sixties or the seventies – something like 30 to 40 years after Jesus death – then eyewitness would have still been available but they would be rare. I think that it is safe to say that this is a big part of why the gospels were written at this time. The people who saw it happen were dying. So Luke writes at an important time. In twenty years there will be no eyewitnesses to consult.

Luke’s third category is the stewards of the word. This reminds us that in an oral culture stories mattered and communities treasured and kept their important stories. The transmission fo story was not a great game of telephone. The word steward speaks to their great care for the word. These stewards would have told stories in community and the consistent retelling in front of a consistent audience would have kept the stories sound. (NT Wright has some great stuff to say about this that I will scan in later.) So Luke can visit these communities, and hear these stories 20( for Acts) to 40 (for the Gospels) years after the fact.

That’s why and how, but who cares?

Understanding how Luke wrote is very important to me. I worry about Christians who imagine that Luke and the other scripture writers went into a room, prayed for inspiration and wrote down their book. Instead I hope that we picture Luke waking up and praying, “Lord, help me find the right people to talk to today.” And then getting up and visiting the old folks in the churches or the grumpy old men sitting outside a Nazareth barber shop and asking them. What happened, What was it like?

I picture Luke going through his texts and organizing the stories, and going to the aging Christians in Jerusalem, and asking, “Do you remember when Jesus told this story?” They might respond, “Oh he told that one a lot. I heard it for the first time here.”

The details of this picture aren’t important. What is important is that we recognize that these memories are not the product of one man in a closet with God, and when this book was published, Luke could honestly say, “Dont’ take my word for it, go meet these people and check for yourself.” That makes a ton of difference.

So my hope is that you will experience Luke not as a mystical moral tale, but as a life changing piece of investigative journalism. Luke has gathered the evidence, not merely to write a good story, or to secure his place in history, but for this purpose, “that you may be certain of that which you have been told.”

Amen.

-Ethan