The Kingdom of God Among You (Luke 11:14-28) from South Woods Baptist Church on Vimeo.

Aside from its use in the Bible, we likely don’t think about “kingdom” very often. We studied ancient kingdoms such as the Babylonians and Persians at some point in school. We hear of modern kingdoms such as Saudi Arabia, Bahrain, and Monaco. We may not hold a very high opinion of any geo-political entity still ruled in modern times by one person. So, too, our understanding of kingdom could be colored by the despotic rule in some modern kingdoms and the ruthless kings in the past.

But you are part of a kingdom.

Everyone is part of one of two kingdoms. We’re either part of the kingdom of this world (Rev 11:15) or we’re part of the kingdom of God. The first is also known as the kingdom (dominion) of darkness (Col 1:13) or the kingdom of Satan (Luke 11:18). One enters it by natural birth and becomes a citizen without exercise of the will. Citizens of this world have no vote or voice about the direction the kingdom should take. Nor would they likely do much different that its ruler desires. For they live “in the power of the evil one” (1 John 5:19), whose despotic reign seeks to use, oppress, manipulate, and steer its citizens to oppose everything that pleases the living God. This ruler shapes his citizens to defy God the Creator and His Law.

Charles Haddon Spurgeon’s description in 1865 cannot be improved upon.

He [the devil] has a way of making the worse appear the better reason; he can put bitter for sweet and sweet for bitter—make men believe that it is to their own advantage to do that which is causing their everlasting ruin. He can make men carry coals of fire in their bosoms, and dream that they shall not be burned; he can make them dance upon the brink of hell as though they were on the verge of heaven. Alas! fools that we are, how readily do his lies prevail against us! [Metropolitan Tabernacle Pulpit, 1865, p. 75]

But there is another kingdom far, far different—one that has no comparisons but only contrasts with the kingdom of darkness. That, of course, is the kingdom of God, also called the kingdom of heaven (especially in Matthew’s Gospel), the kingdom of Jesus (Luke 22:29–30), the kingdom of God’s Beloved Son (Col 1:13), the kingdom which cannot be shaken (Heb 12:28), the kingdom which God promised to those who love Him (James 2:5), and the eternal kingdom of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ (2 Pet 1:11).

This kingdom—God’s kingdom—cannot be understood by the kingdom of this world. One cannot enter it at will nor does he or she desire to apart from the supernatural work of God’s grace regenerating the stony mind and hardened heart to believe the good news of the kingdom (John 3:1–8; Mark 1:15). Jesus redeems through His bloody death the one held captive by the kingdom of darkness, to bring him into God’s kingdom (Col 1:12–14). Such a kingdom as Christ’s kingdom is not about eating and drinking, as Paul told us, but about “righteousness and peace and joy in the Holy Spirit” (Rom 14:17). Its citizens have a new character mirroring the image of Jesus Christ (Rom 8:29). Once focused on self, now its citizens seek to live holy lives like their King (Heb 12:14) and to walk in love with their brothers and sisters as imitators of God (Eph 5:1–2). One day they will see their King face-to-face, but until that time, they live with hope fixed on Him and the faithfulness of His saving work (1 John 3:1–3).

This kingdom is present, real, experiential, spiritual, and with tangible evidence. Yet this kingdom is also future, awaiting the day of the appearing of Jesus Christ, where all of the promises of God for His people come to fruition in eternal glory (Titus 2:11–14). As kingdom citizens we live in the now and the not yet. The now gives us tastes of future glory. The King has come to liberate and transform a people for His kingdom. Yet many reject Christ’s kingship and kingdom. What do they misperceive about the King and His kingdom? Let’s [...]

One of life’s lessons is learning who you can ask. When questions or needs arise, the available people arise as well. Meaning, they answer their phone. They’re glad to field your question or give counsel to a particular situation. On the other hand, when problems show up, you’ve also found the people who never seem to have time for you. You don’t call them anymore.

But you quickly learn: just because someone is available, that doesn’t necessarily mean you want their answer to your question. In fact, just 6 months ago, you asked that man or woman his or her opinion, and though you followed their counsel to a “t,” you still haven’t recovered. Therefore, as you work on your list, of the people eager and available to hear your question, you mark off the people you’ve now learned are unwise. No need to ask them again.

Along the way, though available and seemingly wise, you’ve also received counsel from people that sounds suspiciously like counsel not in your best interest. Even though you’ve asked them a question about you, they seem to be making it about them. Those people have been marked off your list. No need to be a bother.

However, once you’ve gone through this decade–plus process of trial and error, attempting to find those willing and eager to hear, those who appear to be wise, and those who seem concerned for your good, you’ve learned who you can ask when the questions come. Or when you have a need.

Our text today is about asking. And it’s about Who we should ask.

1. God’s Goodness Surpasses the “Goodness” of Our Friends

That sounds simple. And it is. Jesus tosses out an absurd story here to make this simple point. V. 5, And he said to them, “Which of you who has a friend will go to him at midnight and say to him, ‘Friend, lend me three loaves, for a friend of mine has arrived on a journey, and I have nothing to set before him’”;

At the outset, it’s vital to note that Jesus constructs a hypothetical situation to make His point. It’s not unlike one of us saying, “Can you imagine this or that . . . ?”[1] Though it’s not introduced as a parable, nor fit many of the other dynamics of parables, it’s parable–esque.

The first aspect is stated oddly, “Which of you who has a friend?” The NASB translates it this way, Suppose one of you has a friend. After thinning out the group a bit, v. 5, Which of you who has a friend will go to him at midnight. The timing on this is not tangential. It’s widely assumed that this culture went to bed earlier and woke up earlier than our culture does. For these folks, midnight is the middle of the night. After dark, without electricity, life’s pace slowed to a crawl. But there were exceptions. For example, men or women often began longer journeys at night in order to steer clear of the heat of the day.[2]

Which is what appears to be the case here. V. 5, Which of you who has a friend will go to him at midnight and say to him, ‘Friend, lend me three loaves, for a friend of mine has arrived on a journey, and I have nothing to set before him.’ Jesus uses the word “friend” a number of times in these two verses and it can be confusing. Just so we’re clear: He’s asking which of these hearers would go to one of their friends––possibly a neighbor––at midnight because one of his out–of–town friends showed up unannounced. And when the out–of–town friend knocked, he had no bread to give him.

In essence, he’s got more friends than he’s got food. This puts him in an ethical pickle. Because hospitality is so prized in their culture, were someone to knock on your door, it’d be shameful not to feed him or her. To further compound the issue, no stores––selling bread or otherwise––stayed open after dark in this culture.[3] We’re not used to this in Memphis, but in many small towns today this is still the case. I remember in high school in Sparta, TN nearly running out of gas––and nearly losing my mind––trying to find a gas station open at 8:30 pm on Friday night.

The only place where bread could be found at this [...]

He Taught Us to Pray (Luke 11:1–4) from South Woods Baptist Church on Vimeo.

How would you describe prayer? ‘Well,’ you might say, ‘it all depends on what you mean. Do you mean just praying or really praying?’ It’s not all that difficult to mutter under our breath some heavenward wish, like, ‘Get me out of this traffic jam,’ or ‘Help me pass this test.’ One need not have much religion to offer those kinds of prayers.

But to really pray, to pray with clarity, effectiveness, joy, consistency for things that matter and last, then that’s a different thing. Yet should it be a different matter for any of us who know the living God through Christ?

Paul Miller, in his excellent book, A Praying Life, explains the struggle with praying. “Our natural desire to pray comes from Creation. We are made in the image of God. Our inability to pray comes from the fall. Evil has marred the image. We want to talk to God but can’t. The friction of our desire to pray, combined with our badly damaged prayer antennae, leads to constant frustration. It’s as if we’ve had a stroke” [A Praying Life, 15].

Enter Jesus, the Savior of sinners, and the consummate man of prayer who was asked by His disciples, “Lord, teach us to pray just as John also taught his disciples.” Why did they ask? Because, like us, they could just pray but they wanted to learn to really pray. Jesus didn’t chide them for their inability in prayer or their ignorance of what to pray. Rather He gave them a framework for their praying. It’s often called “The Lord’s Prayer,” but that should be reserved for the high priestly prayer of John 17. Jesus designed this model to help us as His followers to really pray.

Jesus teaches us how to really pray. So let’s not be satisfied with just uttering a few words here or there and calling it our prayer life. Let’s really pray as Jesus taught us. But what does that look like? Let’s consider the Model Prayer for help.

1. Immediate observations

A few things need our attention up front if we’re to understand the model prayer. To begin with, we really pray when we feel the weight of our neediness. The disciples had observed Jesus praying as a regular part of His life (e.g. 3:21; 5:16; 6:12; 9:18, 28; 10:21). He prayed so they needed to as well. The neediness is brought out by the use of the imperative, “Lord, teach us to pray.” Unless we recognize that we’re needy people we’ll never get far in praying.

Second, the model prayer is a framework not an exhaustive book on praying. With this framework, Jesus explains categories for prayer. We can divide them into two focal points: the God-centeredness of prayer (v. 2) and the God-dependence through prayer (vv.3–4).

Third, the model prayer, while very useful in private praying, emphasizes corporate prayer. We see this by the repeated use of plural pronouns by Jesus: ‘give us, forgive us, we ourselves, lead us not.’ John Onwuchekwa, in his new book, Prayer: How Praying Together Shapes the Church, confesses, “I can just completely skip over the tension of praying first-person plural pronouns and believe that my relationship with my brother has absolutely nothing to do with God” [63]. Jesus, instead, taught us to pray together with the body of Christ in view.

Fourth, Jesus establishes priorities for prayer. It’s not that it’s wrong to pray about other things. This is an outline, as we’ve noted, not comprehensive. Yet what Jesus does is to point out what’s most important for us to pray about when we’re corporately seeking the Lord’s face. John O is right, “It’s possible to pray for things that are good and acceptable, while still effectively asking God to fund our idolatry. Our self-centeredness is like gravity; it pulls us down. Jesus is teaching us to aim higher. He wants our prayers to soar” (50). So we need these God-centered and God-dependent priorities.

Before we look at details of praying, let’s see how this model reveals details about us.

2. How you pray reveals the way that you see and depend upon God

[...]

Two Sisters (Luke 10:38–42) from South Woods Baptist Church on Vimeo.

Whether we realize it in the moment or not, the schedule we make for our lives regularly answers the question, “What’s best next?” In other words, what I do after I complete this task, chore, project, or conversation is my answer to that question. And then when I complete that, I’ll answer again. The compilation of those decisions, whether they make it on your Google Calendar, do in fact calendar your answer to the question, “What’s best next?”

Matt Perman wrote a book on productivity with that question as his title. While he makes dozens of suggestions to help the reader accomplish more this week than last, he does so within biblical parameters. At one crucial point, he makes this statement, “More important than efficiency is effectiveness––getting the right things done.”[1] Meaning, you can accomplish tons in a day or week and yet be accomplishing all the wrong things. Ask Roget whether busyness is a synonym for productivity.

Our text today isn’t about productivity per se, at least not in the way we typically use that term. But David Gooding does write this about the upcoming section of Luke’s Gospel, “In this stage, Christ calls for a radical reassessment of . . . values, proportions, priorities, and ambitions.”[2]

He calls for that today in a familiar story. While there are no laws or health insurance providers named after this narrative like there were last week’s text, nonetheless, we know Mary and Martha.

1. Two Sisters Host Jesus (vv. 38–40)

V. 38: Now as they went their way, Jesus entered a village. And a woman named Martha welcomed him into her house.

My kids––one in particular––always want to know if such and such story includes a nemesis. The question is asked directly: “Are there bad guys in this one?” Let’s establish at the beginning of this sermon: neither of these sisters is the antagonist in this text, at least not in the way we normally read narratives. Sure, we’ll see Martha’s temper, but we also read that she’s someone to whom the kingdom had come near. If you recall earlier in chapter 10, Jesus instructed the 72[3] to go into towns and villages without money, knapsack, or chacos. Some villages would receive them; others would not. To those houses that received the 72, these followers of Christ were to proclaim peace, eat with, and remain. Martha’s not the bad gal here; far from it, she’s welcoming to Jesus and His disciples.

We know from John’s Gospel that Mary, Martha, and Lazarus (their brother) all lived in Bethany.[4] It’s likely Martha was a landowner, as we can see from her welcoming Him into her house (v. 38). It’s possible Martha was a widow.[5] Most likely Martha is the eldest sibling.[6]

We’ve all heard the descriptions of Martha. It’s been said, “You’ve met Martha. And you might strongly dislike her.” The eldest sibling is something of a hint. She’s Type–A. She makes New Year’s Resolutions, checks them off mid–March, and makes a list for the first week of April. If you were to walk into her home unannounced, the crock–pot would already be set, her kids would line up like the von Trapps, choirs would sing, and she’d look like she just came from a dinner party. After you’d leave, she’d kick her heels off and get back to organizing. One of my friends joked, “She’s got spreadsheets for her bedsheets. Her checklists have checklists.”[7] The Proverbs 31 woman admires her. Now, that’s something of a caricature, but you get the point.

Though we don’t know Martha personally, based on her activity here and in John 11–12, we know her commitment to hospitality neared legendary. We also know she has a sister, to whom we’re introduced in verse 39: And she had a sister named Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet and listened to his teaching.

In this era, pupils often sat at the feet of their teacher.[8] The posture pictured attention to the instruction. One ancient rabbi wrote, “Sit amid the dust of their feet and drink in their words with [...]

The Loveless Lawyer (Luke 10:25–37) from South Woods Baptist Church on Vimeo.

The Joy of Belonging (Luke 10:17–24) from South Woods Baptist Church on Vimeo.

In one of his expositions, the 20th century London pastor Martyn Lloyd-Jones asked the question, “What credit to God is a miserable Christian?” [The Life of Peace, 14] Some perceive that misery accompanies a profession of Christ. To be a Christian, one must act dour, despondent, depressed, dull, and downcast. And I do believe that I’ve met a number that exemplify those characteristics!

Opponents of the gospel might agree. ‘Look at what Jesus calls you to: deny yourself, take up your cross daily, and follow Jesus. See, there it is! That is a commitment to a life of drudgery and misery. There’s no joy in that kind of life!’

It is true that Jesus told us that if we wished to follow Him, then we must deny ourselves, take up our cross daily, and follow Him (Luke 9:23). Yet in doing so, we’re brought into levels of joy that the world cannot comprehend.

As He spoke that decisive word of being a disciple, He began his path to Jerusalem. He told the disciples of His impending suffering, death, and resurrection (9:22, 44). Knowing what lay ahead, Jesus set His face toward Jerusalem, a city that had killed prophets of old and rebelled against God under a thin veneer of faithful religious practice (9:51). Along the way, He countered the soft professions partnered with caveats, excuses, and self-centered priorities with the terse statement, “No one, after putting his hand to the plow, is fit for the kingdom of God” (9:62). Jesus only wants disciples that go the way of the cross.

Yet, amazingly we get a hint of the spirit among His followers when Jesus sent out the Seventy. He sent them “as lambs in the midst of wolves,” with no provisions, and the certainty that some would listen to them and others reject them. Did they return with dull, discouraging, and despondent spirits? Instead, “The seventy returned with joy.”

Luke stays on that theme of joy as he narrates the story of Jesus receiving these 70 disciples after their mission into the Galilean cities. In doing so, he helps us to listen to the tone of Jesus and His followers, discovering the immeasurable joy of belonging to Him. Jesus wants His followers to live in the joy of belonging. But how do we know that joy? That’s what we’ll consider in this passage under three headings.

1. Joy in settled assurance

Six times in this passage with four different words, Luke uses a term that expresses joy or rejoicing (vv. 17, 20, 21, 23). It’s very clear that he’s pressing that point. Jesus set His face toward Jerusalem, the cross, resurrection, and ascension, and “for the joy set before Him, endured the cross” (Heb 12:2). He called His followers to joy, and exemplified it even with the days of His passion just ahead. But joy to Jesus didn’t equate to giddiness or some kind of silly laughter but rather the deep elation and exuberance that wells from our hearts when we know that we belong to God through Christ. It’s consciousness of relationship and hope for eternity. External circumstances cannot deter it or control it. This joy, as Lloyd-Jones put it, “is the product, almost the by-product, of my concentration upon my relationship to God in Jesus Christ” [Life of Peace, 15]. So Jesus directs the disciples to this kind of joy when they return from their mission.

We need to get the picture. He had told them to expect “discouragements (10:2), dangers (10:3), and deficits (10:4),” as James Edwards notes. “The stage seems to have been set, in other words, for the poorly equipped and underprepared disciples to return limping in defeat” [PNTC: Luke, 311]. But just the opposite happened. “The seventy returned with joy, saying, ‘Lord, even the demons are subject to us in Your name.’” Here they knew the joy of success in their work. That’s certainly commendable and normal. That’s where we typically find our joy—in things we accomplish, succeed at, experience, feel, or see. Joy, then in the way that they saw it, depends on w[...]

The Mission of Jesus: Multiplied from South Woods Baptist Church on Vimeo.

 

About a month ago, we studied together the first few verses of Luke 9. In that text, Jesus sends some of His followers out to proclaim the kingdom of God and to heal (Lk 9:1). He told them to take nothing for their journey (bag, bread, money, etc.) (Lk 9:2). As they went, if they were received by a particular household, they were to remain there. However, when they were not received, they were to shake the dust from that town off their feet (Lk 9:5).

Just a moment ago, we read Luke 10 together and maybe you thought, “Didn’t we already do this one?” Yes, sort of. But there are actually a number of differences. First, there are sections here not in Luke 9. For example, The harvest is plentiful teaching we know so well wasn’t in Luke 9 (Lk 10:2). Also, the woes Jesus asserts at the end of our passage weren’t in that passage either (Lk 10:13–15). There are a few distinctions in the instructions Jesus gives here as well.

But the clearest distinction concerns whom Jesus sends. In Luke 9, Jesus sent the 12. We know their names. We’ve read books some of them have written. However today, Jesus sends 72 people we’ve never heard of. And we’re not told their names.

In that passage from Luke 9, we noted that Jesus accomplishes His mission––to make Himself known––through His people. That’s true of our text as well. I called the sermon from Luke 9, “The Mission of Jesus.” Today, as something of a Part 2, showing both connection and development, it’s: “The Mission of Jesus: Multiplied.”

Jesus reproduced Himself in His disciples. But not just the 12. That ought to matter to us.

We’ll see today that as Jesus sends His people, He instructs them to represent Him.

Jesus Sends His People

Verse 1: After this the Lord appointed seventy–two others and sent them on ahead of him, two by two, into every town and place where he himself was about to go.

Jesus appointed 72 others. The fact that Luke writes “others” here probably means the 72 did not include the disciples. While some say the number here is 70, I’m opting for 72, along with a host of other people.[1]

Jesus didn’t send out 72 people––as individuals––to 72 different towns. He sent 36 teams––2 by 2. We’ve mentioned this before, but the methodology of Scripture is consistent. Mission is better done together. Being fishers of men is less about a rod and a reel and more about multiple people holding a net together.

Yet, particularly noteworthy here is that He sends more than the 12 disciples on mission. During the eighteenth–century one famous hymn declared: “Go into all the world, the Lord of old did say, but now where He has planted thee, there thou shouldst stay.”[2] At that point, many believed the Great Commission only applied to the Apostles. Yet, William Carey’s An Enquiry into the Obligations of Christians to Use Means for the Conversion of the Heathens countered that prevailing belief.[3] If we look at the Great Commission in Matthew we note that it includes a promise beyond the scope of the Apostles’ lives: “And behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age” (Matt 28:20b). John Calvin comments, “We must note besides, that this is said not only to the Apostles, for the Lord promises His aid not to one age alone, but to the end of the world.”[4] Internally, “teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you” (Matt 28:20a) points to an ongoing application of the Commission. While the only imperative within that passage is that of making disciples,[5] nonetheless, if the apostles were to teach others to observe all Christ commanded, this necessarily included the clause given only a few seconds prior: make disciples of all nations.

Jesus sends His people. And He sends them because the need is great. Verse 2: And he said to them, “The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few. Therefore pray earnestly to the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest. Harvest terminology wa[...]

Will You Follow Jesus? (Luke 9:51–62) from South Woods Baptist Church on Vimeo.

What do the Jotoni in Mali, the Temne-Bunta in Sierra Leone, the Mahratta in India, and the Sogwo Arig in China have in common? They’re all unreached people groups with no known followers of Jesus Christ. The animistic Jotoni live on $1200 per year in a barren, desert wasteland with no gospel witness among them. The Islamic Temne-Banta live under the rule of tribal chieftains under conditions hostile to the gospel. There’s no witness this this group of 68,000 people. The Hindu Mahratta number 30 million, yet no followers of Christ and probably little gospel work among them. The Buddhist Sogwo Arig made up of 49,000 people live in the mountainous regions of China sacrificing animals to gods and demons.

No followers of Christ and no gospel witness connect these unreached people living under the wrath of God. They see the invisible attributes of God in creation. The Creator makes Himself known through the conscience, so that this dimmed light of witness within and all around them is enough to hold them accountable for their sin against Him (Romans 1:18–23). But they still have no knowledge of Christ, and so continue living in rebellion against Him. Yet they’ve not heard of the Lord Jesus, God’s Son, dying on their behalf and being raised from the dead to give them life forever.

But how about you and me?

If the Jotonis and Mahrattas are held accountable before a holy God by the testimony of creation and conscience, what of us, who have not only the light of the light of creation and conscience, but who have heard the good news of Jesus Christ over and over? If God justly condemns them in their paganism, does He not more justly condemn any among us that would hear the good news of Jesus’ death and resurrection, and His gracious call to repent, believe, and follow Him, and yet not?

Here’s the reality. God made us for Himself. Augustine famously wrote in his Confessions, “Thou has made us for thyself, O Lord, and our heart is restless until it finds its rest in thee.” We fool ourselves into false wisdom and flawed pursuits when we hear the good news and either coldly turn away or attach caveats to the call of Christ. Jesus fulfilled His saving mission, so He calls us to faithfully follow Him. Are you following Christ? Let’s think about the call of Jesus in the gospel.

1. Jesus’ consciousness of His mission

We’ve been noticing in this section of Luke’s Gospel a movement in Jesus’ mission. Jesus begins His aim toward Jerusalem and the cross. He told the disciples about it but “they did not understand” His statements (9:22; 44–45). Now, starting in verse 51, we find Him setting His face toward His rendezvous with the weight of our sins at the cross. Notice how Luke sets that forth.

Days of Fulfillment

The language used is unique to this verse. “When the days were approaching for His ascension, He was determined to go to Jerusalem.” The idea of “approaching” is better translated as “fulfilled” or “filled together.” It refers to the divine mission given to the Son by the Father coming together for the redemption of those God elected before the creation [Darrell Bock, Luke, 2:968]. Some of the translations use “lifting up” rather than “ascension.” That’s a permissible translation but its unique use at this point implies a lifting up at the cross, followed by the resurrection, culminating in the ascension of Jesus to the right hand of the Father. In other words, Jesus fully understood the mission the Father had given Him. He knew the price that He’d pay by laying down His life in suffering at the hands of godless men, but more, suffering the full measure of wrath in our place at the Father’s hands. But Jesus knew that He would not stay in the grave. Resurrection Day would come, and soon afterward, the triumph of His saving work would culminate in His ascending back to the eternal glory with the Father that He had always known.

Face Like a Flint

Knowing thi[...]

In Contrast: Jesus and the Disciples from South Woods Baptist Church on Vimeo.

Some restaurant this past week gave my kids some cheap, kitschy Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle cards. They’ve not seen the show, I don’t believe, but they do like these turtles with different color masks. And they want their daddy, who did watch the show a bit back in the 90s, to tell them the names of each individual ninja turtle.

Which naturally brings me to famous Italian High Renaissance artist, Raphael. When he died on April 6, 1520, at his head––laying nearly completed––was his final masterpiece, “The Transfiguration.” Within weeks, it was displayed in the Vatican. Napoleon thought this was Raphael’s finest work.[1] Therefore, a couple hundred years later, during Napoleon’s short pillaging, French troops took the painting and placed it in the Louvre. Today you can view it in the Vatican Museum.

I put a terrible copy of it on the sermon notes. At the top of the painting is a representation of last week’s text, where Jesus’ glory was seen by three of the disciples on the mount. That’s the top half. The bottom half is this week’s text.

I must note that the Transfiguration was more glorious than this, Raphael made Jesus a bit too European, and all the disciples’ clothes are too clean, but the contrast Raphael pictures is compelling. If you put your hand over the bottom half, you see up top symmetry and power. Put your hand over the top half and you see darkness and chaos. Raphael puts them right on top of one another. According to Goethe, “The two are one: below suffering, need, above, effective power, . . .  Each bearing on the other, both interacting with one another.”[2] In the Gospels, that’s exactly what happened.

The contrast is clear in Raphael’s painting; and it’s clear in our text today. But what Luke contrasts is Jesus and His disciples.

In Contrast: Jesus’ Power and the Disciples’ (vs. 37–43a) 

Before we dive into the details of the text, we need to quickly orient ourselves in the context of the entire book. Almost all the scholars I’ve read assert that today’s text is the end of a major section in Luke’s Gospel. That section began in 4:14 and goes to 9:50, often called things like “The Ministry in Galilee.”[3] Beginning at 9:51 is a new section, often called things like, “Jerusalem Journey,”[4] going all the way to chapter 19 and the cross. You could almost say that in a five-chapter book, South Woods started chapter three in February and will be completing it today.

As the close of this section, Luke gives us four vignettes that appear to be disconnected (healing of the boy; Jesus talking about Him being delivered over; the disciples sticking their chests out; and the rogue exorcist). At first, it seems that as Luke’s concludes the chapter he thinks, “Oh yeah, let me tell you this story. Oh, that reminds me of this one, And by the way, etc.” But it’s more connected than we might initially grasp.

Speaking of connections, note v. 37, On the next day, when they had come down from the mountain, a great crowd met him. The next day is the day after the Transfiguration. This is one reason many believe the Transfiguration happened at night.

So, the next morning Jesus and the three come down the mountain to a flock of people. It’s safe to assume that’s one of the main reasons they hiked up the mountain to pray. They wouldn’t be able to at the foot. I don’t want to belabor the point, but consider the lengths Jesus went to in order to commune with His father.

After the transformative experience of the night before, the crowds await. They wait for a reason. V. 38: And behold, a man from the crowd cried out, “Teacher, I beg you to look at my son, for he is my only child. If we were to picture this crowd, we probably need to imagine many men and women crying out. But Luke shines the spotlight on this one man.

Maybe this guy was louder than everyone else, we’re not told. But Jesus came down the mountain in part to meet him. Luke’s detail[...]

Look and Listen (Luke 9:28–36) from South Woods Baptist Church on Vimeo.

 

Almost a year ago to the day, on Monday August 21, 2017, scores of people took off work and drove long distances to see the first total solar eclipse in the continental US in 38 years.

You might recall the details, but there was a 70–mile–wide path stretching across the US where you could view, not a partial eclipse, but the total one. At the center of that path was a thin line where the eclipse would be observable the longest. In most of those towns and cities at the epicenter of the path, there was no room in the inn. People flocked to those spots. That line also happened to go directly through my parent’s farm.

Since the astrological event landed on my day off, and since I can be persuasive (i.e. stubborn), the four of us loaded up and immediately after the Sunday evening service drove to beautiful Sparta, Tennessee.

The next morning was a bit of a circus. My parents have about 40 acres in that part of the country with their house on a hill. The eclipse was supposed to occur at about 2:30 that afternoon. All morning long, private jets flew over the farm, one after another, to drop off folks at our small–town airport. From our hilltop, we could see gatherings of people on blankets––not unlike Woodstock––all equipped with their 2–dollar eclipse glasses from Amazon.com. We even had a British Banker living in South Africa––this being his 4th or 5th continent to watch an eclipse on––that parked essentially in our driveway to watch it unfold.

And unfold it did. It more than surpassed the hype. After it was over, we got back in the car and drove back to Memphis. In the span of about 24–hours, we drove 10 hours with two small kids to stand in the heat for 2 minutes and 39 seconds and stare at the sky. And if you told me today it was happening tomorrow, I’d eat lunch and load the car.

Some experiences are like that. And often, those experiences are things that we see. That could be any number of things: the Grand Canyon, a walk–off homerun, or the first time a mother holds her son or daughter.

But no experience, or sight, is like the one in our text today. On their own day–trip, three of the disciples glimpse and experience the glory of Jesus Christ. We’ll study this text under three headings: The Glory of Christ, the Glory of Christ Seen, and the Glory of Christ Heard

The Glory of Christ

Luke’s narrative picks up from last week, v. 28, Now about eight days after these sayings. Luke connects the events of today’s text with the sayings of the past couple weeks. Two weeks ago, Jesus asked the disciples, v. 20, But who do you say that I am? After Peter’s confession, Jesus told them that He must suffer, be rejected, die, and be raised (9:22). Pastor Phil pointed out last week that verse 23 began with “and,” meaning last week’s text on denying yourself, taking up your cross, and following Jesus were commands tied to the revelation of who Jesus is and what He would do.[1] The event today is about a week after those sayings.

But Luke is connecting it even more tightly to the final verse of last week’s text, v. 27, But I tell you truly, there are some standing here who will not taste death until they see the kingdom of God. You can imagine the disciples are on–alert, awaiting the sight of the kingdom of God. Jesus makes assertions; they’re not like our assertions. Verse 27 would be fulfilled a mere eight days later, in our text today.

Luke continues, v. 28, Now about eight days after these sayings he took with him Peter and John and James and went up on the mountain to pray. Jesus had the twelve; and He had the three. We know other cases where Jesus invested in Peter, John, and James in a more concentrated fashion. This is one of those times. The four of them traverse up a mountain–––some say this would be Mt. Tabor, others say Mt. Hermon, others say other things. And while it might affect the Holy Land tourism, it does not affect the interpretation in t[...]