The following is a guest post from MJ James who blogs at theburnedoutbusinessmom.com.
Have you ever truly unpacked the Sermon on the Mount? My Pastor likes to call it Jesus’ inaugural address.
“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth. Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled. Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy. Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God. Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God. Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.”
In our Church we have been unpacking The Beatitudes. We’ve been going through the Sermon on the Mount for the last few weeks with each week packing a new, resounding punch. Not a physical punch, but an eye-opening, stomach doing flip-flops punch designed to turn your world upside down. At least it has for me.
Last week Pastor Kenny Grant said, “Persecution is inevitable for those that are living out this kind of Christianity.” He spoke this of the Beatitudes. As he said it there was an audible shift within the congregation.
What are Christians called to do?
Jesus teaches us in Matthew 5:3-11 what we are called to do as Christians. It’s a blueprint for the way we should live and understand this life that we live down here on earth. Jesus teaches us that true Christianity does not parallel the world, it intersects the world cutting across cultural norms. It interrupts the calm sometimes, pushing ripples of disruption and disquiet as it comes on soft feet whispering words of mercy, love, acceptance, and righteousness.
These days, it doesn’t seem that many people want to follow that idea. It’s easier to stay a Sunday Christian, a quiet Christian, practicing behind closed doors or only professing your love of God in safe circles. It’s easier to make compromises to keep things calm, to avoid confrontation, to stay under the radar, or to stay safe.
Would you follow him?
In Matthew 4:18-20 Jesus calls to Simon (called Peter), and his brother Andrew. He tells them to come and follow him. They leave their nets, possessions, homes, and families and they follow Jesus. It cost them something in that moment. It cost them more as their discipleship went on in the future. Christianity as Jesus intends is discipleship. It costs something. It will cost you something. At its core, it invites and initiates confrontation pushing back against the comfortable to stretch beyond. The reaction from others will either be rejection or acceptance.
As a Christian, suffering comes along with the course curriculum. The course being, of course, the Bible and our living an everyday walk with Jesus in order to stay proudly firm in our identity. Who are you? I’ve heard more times in the last month than I have heard in the last year. My knee-jerk answer to this is, “I’m a mom,” or “I’m a wife,” or even “I’m a coach and writer.” Those are not who I am. That is what I do. Who I am is a child of a King, the daughter of God.
I take time every morning to read the Bible with chapters dedicated to telling me about the absolute suffering of Jesus, and of many of the people that followed him. Abel, John the Baptist, Daniel, David, Joseph, Jesus, just to name a few. All children of God. All sons of a King. All persecuted.
We’ve gotten so used to the comforts that life affords us. A sense of safety and security was built into the framework of our country thanks to our founding fathers. We have the freedom to practice the religion we love without fear of persecution. In Church as we hear about what happens to other Christians around the world, our hearts ache, but we are removed from it as we go back to our homes without a thought to bomb shelters or being harmed for merely professing our Christianity.
It's nice in that space, isn’t it? It’s cozy and safe. It’s easy to live out the commandment, “Thou shalt not fear.” The plain crux of it all is that in so doing, in living in the safety of our compromise and our quiet acceptance of cultural norms, we allow our brother, Jesus, to carry his cross alone. While we may not be persecuted in the same way as some other Christians around the world, we have our own persecution here. We avoid it though, not wanting to push back.
When we deal with difficult things in our lives it’s easy to feel like God has forsaken us. It’s easy to feel alone. It’s so very easy to get angry and turn away from our walk with Jesus. We need someone to blame for our lot. Someone has to take the fault for the fact that things aren’t as easy, as they should be. It’s someone’s fault that the unexpected has overthrown the safe normalcy that we are comfortable living in. The powerful truth is, we are called to suffer.
I don’t mean that God will make us suffer every single day of our lives, although maybe that’s God’s path for some. Nor do I mean that we can never be and relish in happiness and joy. Happiness and persecution can be found in the very same place and in the very same people. People have spent years watering down the Bible trying to create a softer message that they can mold to help people accept an easier, more comfortable directive.
Would you let Jesus carry the cross alone?
Christianity was not bred for ease. For kindness? Yes. For love? Yes. For sacrifice? Yes. To be an example of leadership and lessons? Yes. Ease? No. “Take up my yolk.” You’ve heard that before. You’ve sat through that sermon and nodded along as it was explained. Do you know what it truly means though? Jesus has passed the baton to us all, I wonder how many of us grab it and take off running?
For most of us, we grab it, but then when things get rocky or unclear we drop it. Or maybe we hide it behind our backs, so no one sees it. Maybe we tip-toe so as to not disturb those around us and draw notice. We remain complacent and silent. That is the opposite of taking up his yolk.
Jesus got up on that cross fighting through his desire to not carry this burden for us all. As delighted as he was in being reunited with his Father, he felt all of the human emotions we all would feel were we in that position. He suffered greatly for every one of us. He suffered greatly trying to turn rejection into acceptance. He spent time pouring into those around him so that they may go and pour out into others. He passed his baton; he carried his cross.
The question I pose to you now is, will you take up his baton understanding that suffering is part of this journey?
-MJ James
