“Do you know me?” the question reverberated around the temple’s stone courts as Jesus confronted the crowds that had been whispering around Him. The people had been debating about His identity for days. Some said that He was a good man while others insisted He was a huckster building Himself a reputation. One group guessed that He was Messiah since His ministry was attended by signs and wonders. The opposition insisted that He could not be the One sent by God because He did not fit their description. They insisted that when Messiah came, no one would know from what place He came–but this man Jesus they knew. They knew He came from Nazareth. They knew that He had a mother, sisters, and brothers who still lived in Galilee. They even knew that He was Joseph the carpenter’s son.
The problem was, what they knew was limited and in some parts deeply flawed. He did have a mother and siblings in His hometown of Nazareth, but Jesus was from a much higher locale. In fact, Jesus had plainly declared that He had come down from heaven. Jesus did grow up in a carpenter’s shop, but they missed out on the angel that told Joseph in a dream to take care of Mary and her unborn child because He was a product of the Holy Spirit. In fact, what they thought they knew about Jesus robbed them of their moment in the presence of God. They walked away angry and offended that day, while Jesus and His disciples went out to the Mount of Olives.
Sometimes, I have to wonder if we as Christians would find ourselves in a similar dilemma. For many years, we have gathered weekly to worship. We have the lingo down as we talk about waves of revival, and small-group engagement, and prophetic mantles. We have five-year plans, and building projects, and redecorating on our radars. We know what time church will dismiss because we have timed our song service and our sermons to fit a convenient length.
Somehow, church became the event we attended instead of the prayer-bathed, blood-bought, gathering of saints that grew bolder in persecution and turned the world right side up two thousand years ago. I can’t help but wonder if the first century church would recognize us as brothers and sisters if they could peek into our buildings. Would they be shocked when we quietly slipped out the back doors when the pastors asked everyone to pray near the end of service? Would they warn us that our understanding of the Lord and His purposes was limited and flawed? Would they weep when we chose our sports events and family fun days over worship?
Would Jesus weep? I suspect He wouldn’t. I think He would stand in our midst, eyes blazing as He looked at us, and ask, “Do you know Me? ”
The Jesus I read about in the Gospels turns over tables in the temple when convenience threatens worship. He refuses to follow decorum, eating with the dirty and the disreputable. He preempts the pageantry of the priests to offer living water to the thirsty. He doesn’t wear a watch. Why should He when it was He Who flung the sun into place and started the planet turning on its axis? His perspective holds eternity and His plans reach much farther than a five-year agenda.
I am writing this at a time when the churches in our area have been closed due to the COVID-19 health threat. I miss the rhythm of my local gathering and the voices of my brothers and sisters. However, I feel like the Lord has hit a pause button on the church. He has silenced our busy agendas and quieted our feverish pace, and is challenging us to reconsider what it means to belong to Him.
Following Jesus is actually costly. The child of God must write a blank check with their life and reach Him the pen. We must be willing to walk where He would walk, sit with those with whom He would sit, and give whatever He asks. Our salvation came at a price, a high one, and we can’t lose sight of that. We must be wiling to carry a cross if the Lord offers it to us.
Following Jesus must also be done in community. He has promised that when we meet in His name He will come and fellowship with us there, no matter how small or unimpressive we may seem in the eyes of the world. We are not a social gathering or club that meets once a week. Jesus said that He would build His church on the revelation of Who He is, and the gates of Hell would not prevail against it. (Matthew 16:18) That makes the church seem far more dangerous to the dark around us than it has appeared to be over the past few years.
Tonight, I am looking forward to the gathering of the saints when the all clear is given to assemble again. But until that happens, I will choose to listen to the still small voice asking hard questions, “ Do you know what pleases Me? Do you want to know what breaks My heart? Do you know that I care about secret things like motive and decision, and public things like justice and mercy? Do you know that I have all power on heaven and in earth and nothing catches Me off guard? Do you know that My plans are better than yours? Do you know you can trust Me? Beloved, do you know Me?”
