His opening salvo:
Writing more than one hundred and fifty years ago, a social theorist named John Stuart Mill was commenting on the way the most radical and startling teachings of Jesus could, over time, come to “coexist passively in the minds of Christians, producing hardly any effect beyond that caused by mere listening to words so amiable and bland.”
Aimiable and bland.
Revolutionary words that are not lived become the most bland of all. Just like continually overheated rhetoric eventually fails to burn anyone anymore. We should be cautious about our use of Jesus' words about death and taking up our cross and the kingdom of God. Obviously, this is not to say that we shouldn't publicly confess believing his words; it means that we weigh those particular words more heavily than all others. They should not roll off our tongues without first jarring our hearts or getting lodged in our throats. Again, I say this in the context of Mill's quote above, and not to discourage anyone from always being ready to give a reason for the hope we have.
My own tendency has been to pull out the most devastating words of Christ in moments where I needed them to buttress my particular point - points often made in the building of some argument that exists more for my ego than for building up the Body or encouraging a brother. Jesus did not say what he said primarily that I might have disquieting rhetorical devices, he said what he said so that I would hear and be saved. I needed someone to teach me about God, and to save me from God and from myself, and to call me to a life that looks away from my own desires.
Jesus' words are not spiritual slogans, nor witticisms, nor are they meant to make us feel clever. They are meant to rend our hearts and call us to love and obey God. And if the speaking of them does not produce those effects, then let my words be few.
Revolutionary words that are not lived become the most bland of all. Just like continually overheated rhetoric eventually fails to burn anyone anymore. We should be cautious about our use of Jesus' words about death and taking up our cross and the kingdom of God. Obviously, this is not to say that we shouldn't publicly confess believing his words; it means that we weigh those particular words more heavily than all others. They should not roll off our tongues without first jarring our hearts or getting lodged in our throats. Again, I say this in the context of Mill's quote above, and not to discourage anyone from always being ready to give a reason for the hope we have.
My own tendency has been to pull out the most devastating words of Christ in moments where I needed them to buttress my particular point - points often made in the building of some argument that exists more for my ego than for building up the Body or encouraging a brother. Jesus did not say what he said primarily that I might have disquieting rhetorical devices, he said what he said so that I would hear and be saved. I needed someone to teach me about God, and to save me from God and from myself, and to call me to a life that looks away from my own desires.
Jesus' words are not spiritual slogans, nor witticisms, nor are they meant to make us feel clever. They are meant to rend our hearts and call us to love and obey God. And if the speaking of them does not produce those effects, then let my words be few.
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