Jesus Isn't Decaf (By Naomi Meyers)

It sounded like a setdown. A rebuke from a 12-year-old for whom they had just spent days searching. Intentional or not, the words stung like the verbal backhand they were and it was easy to feel affronted in light of all they had been through. An entire day had passed before they realized He had opted out of joining the caravan headed home from their annual temple visit. Not finding her Son among the other boys His age, His mother had become frantic. Racing from family to family, camp to camp, asking if anyone had seen Him, hope incrementally dying with every shake of another head. 

Finding Joseph, her panic-stricken face crumpled in grief, rivulets of tears flowing from the watery pools of her eyes, Mary begged him to do something. Anything. Everything. Whatever it took. He had to find Jesus. Even though she knew it was inevitable, she was unprepared for this day. The day when her Son, God’s Son, would leave her home and go out to do God’s work. Surely today couldn’t be that day! No. It couldn’t be this soon. Joseph had to find their Son. 

Adrenaline and fear fueling their search, Mary and Joseph set out to retrace their recent steps. A day of travel back to Jerusalem. A visit to the inn where they had stayed. Questioning of local shopkeepers. Speaking with friends. Begging information from strangers. Had anyone caught even a glimpse of a 12-year-old boy busy with business that had nothing to do with earth? 

By day three, out of options and destitute of hope, the heavy-hearted parents sought the solace of the temple. As they entered in reverent silence, they heard a voice that sounded particularly familiar. A voice they were uncertain they would hear again. One that caused their hearts to leap, their downturned mouths to lift with joy, and Mary’s tears to start again. Happy ones, this time. Jesus was in the temple. 

Odd. He didn’t seem impressed, relieved, or excited they had come back for Him. He didn’t jump up and hug their necks. He didn’t seem to begrudge the time He’d had to spend in the temple. In fact, He almost seemed hesitant to leave. And when He spoke to them, it didn’t feel full of love. Even if spoken with the kindest tone, it was a harsh reminder. One Mary had been trying to squelch since the day she knew she was carrying Him under her heart. Jesus had business to do on earth that had nothing to do with them. He was on God’s mission. And the mission had already begun. (Luke 2:41-52)

This must have been a turning point for Mary, an affirmation of all the truths her mind refused to consider. She had borne God’s Son. He would leave her home to go and do the will of His Father. He wouldn’t stay and become a carpenter like Joseph. He wouldn’t marry a girl from the neighboring farm and settle down nearby. There would be no grandchildren to dandle on her knees. At least not from her firstborn. No. His life would be different. His work would be greater. His calling that of Heaven. His business straight from God. 

It would be the only business in which Jesus would engage. Ever. Never once would He do something to please Himself, increase His own fame, encourage an entourage. His goals were not so peasant. No matter how often someone or something called Him to be drawn aside. He wouldn’t be. His eyes were fixed on the endgame. The ugly, horrific finality of the cross. The beatific, glorious infinity of the resurrection. Eternal life for dying humanity. This moment in the temple as a pre-teen would not be the last time Jesus would be discovered in an unexpected place, speaking unexpected words, bestowing unexpected grace. 

His disciples learned this firsthand. Finding Jesus in a forbidden conversation with a woman at the well in Samaria, the gobsmacked disciples decided to overlook His indiscretion and offer Him food. Perhaps His inordinate hunger had caused this gross oversight. As they urged their earthly bread on their Heavenly Leader, He waved it away. He wasn’t hungry. He’d already eaten. Soul food. The kind of food that feeds the soul who is busy doing the will of God. Because man survives physically on the bread from the ovens of earth, but the soul thrives only on constant communion with and obedience to the Father in Heaven. (John 4:1-34)

Enamored with the multiplication of fish and chips but unable to locate last night’s Cook, the crowd crammed themselves into small boats, vigorously rowing across the sea to Capernaum. Their stomachs were grumbling. Their mouths were watering. They wanted more food. Exhausting a significant amount of energy in the chase, they finally found Him, hopes set on a continental breakfast. Jesus called them on it. Called them out on relentlessly seeking perishable things instead of imperishable ones. But He didn’t send them away hungry. He offered them real food. Soul food. Not the stuff meant to satisfy empty bellies. The one thing, the only thing that satisfies empty souls. Himself. Bread. Water. Life. Feeding their souls as well as His own, because the sustenance for Jesus’ own soul came from doing the one thing He was sent here to do–God’s business. (John 6:1-40)

Over and again throughout the Gospels, Jesus reminds us, “I’m not here to do my own will. I’m simply on business for my Father.” The words are always spoken in moments when He so easily could point out His own excellence and gather glory for Himself. Times He could strike out on His own in pursuit of personal dreams and ambitions. Incidents after which He could use miracles to entice followers, His skilled oration to build the first megachurch of all time, His heavenly abilities to accrue all earthly comforts, fame, accolades, honor. He didn’t. It wasn’t why He came. He was here to do one thing alone. His Father’s will. (John 6:38,57,63; 8:29; 14:10,31) 

Hear it in His declaration, “I came from Heaven, not to do my own will, but only the will of my Father.” See it resonate in His words to the Jews at the Feast of Booths, “My teaching, my words, are not Mine, but My Father’s.” Feel the pathos of His Gethsemane cries, “Not my will, but Thine be done.” As I contemplate these Scriptures, these quotations, I find myself disgusted with humanity. All of us. Such a selfish, forgetful lot. Plodding around the planet claiming it and all its fruits as our own. Scurrying and working to lay up treasures in savings accounts and hedge funds. Preposterously calling people and plans and property our own. What elevated, deluded opinions we have of ourselves! If Jesus was put on earth to do only the business of God alone, who do we think we are to assume, presume, we were placed here for some other reason?! (John 6:38, 7:16; Luke 22:42; Psalm 127:2; Psalm 39:6)

Pompous, presumptuous, preposterous people living for time instead of eternity! Wake up, already! You were not placed on this earth, given life beyond the womb, for personal, proprietary reasons. You were not gifted life so you could get up early and stay up late feverishly working overtime and double time in an effort to gain a more prominent title, a higher position, a larger paycheck. It is unlikely God placed you here with the singular task of owning a beach house, a cabin, a yacht, and three luxury cars. He did not put you on earth to follow your own dreams and ambitions, doggedly chasing the things of this world. Absolutely, unequivocally, resoundingly, no! God granted you life and charged you with one goal alone. Increase the family business. Work for the Father. Do only God’s will. (John 12:25-26; Proverbs 11:30; John 9:4; Ezekiel 3:18-20; Mark 16:15; II Corinthians 5:11)

In the prayer Jesus taught us to pray lies the phrase, “Your will be done.” We’ve heard it a thousand times, said it even more. The words roll glibly off our tongues, a final benediction so we can rush out of church and go about our lives. Rarely, if ever, do we stop to think if the thing so pressing as to have us power walking out the door as soon as the last “Amen” is uttered, falls within the parameters of God’s will. Perhaps it is because we completely ignore the three little words that precede them. “Your kingdom come.” They are two inseparable things. Whether you believe those words are speaking of the final heavenly kingdom of God or the surrendering of your heart and life to be God’s kingdom on earth now, one inevitable truth remains. God’s kingdom is where His will, and only His will, is done. Always. (Matthew 6:10)

At a time when it is so easy, so accepted, so encouraged to be caught up in earthly, worldly pursuits and let spiritual things slip, may you pray the words above and mean them. May your surrender to God be complete, without caveat. May you find absolute, unspeakable joy in servitude to the Father and enacting His will alone. May His heavenly kingdom increase because His kingdom on earth went stalwartly about the Father’s business. His will, His way. Always. (Hebrews 2:1; James 1:6-8; Matthew 16:24; Philippians 2:13; Romans 12:2; Proverbs 3:5-6)    

Rubbing eyes still blurry from sleep, they slipped out of bed. The inky darkness of pre-dawn night covered the house, making clear sight impossible. Feeling their way along walls and chairs, they crossed the room to don cloaks and robes and sandals carefully laid out in preparation for this early morning trek. Rushing through their morning ablutions, they hurried to the door as the first streaks of dawn began to light the horizon. Hastily collecting previously packed baskets of spices and perfumes, they set out to attend their final task of devotion. 

Two days ago they watched Joseph of Arimathea gently wrap Jesus’ body in linen and cart it away to a fresh tomb. They had followed him. Sneaking along with the lightest possible footsteps. Hiding behind trees and bushes when necessary. Feigning interest in flowers and leaves. They knew exactly where he’d placed that precious body. And from the moment they saw Joseph leave the tomb, they had been planning. 

The final hours of preparation day had been filled with exactly that. Preparations. Working quickly and efficiently to complete their labor of love before the Sabbath, they gathered spices and created perfumes. The last minutes before observation of the Sabbath forced their labors to cease were a flurry of preparation and assembly of baskets for a dawn-lit journey the following day. 

It would be the third day. Their hearts broke that they had been unable to lovingly anoint Jesus’ body sooner. They were saddened to think of Him lying in that cold, dark tomb shrouded in linen, rotting away. Their aching sorrow at His death, the events leading up to it, and their lack of preparation afterward, filled them with a sense of urgency. They needed to get to that tomb. They were determined to fulfill their duty, enact their final gift of undying love. 

Nearly tripping over one another in their haste, baskets swinging on elbows, garments swishing around ankles, they rushed out the door and down the path to their destination. Arriving at the tomb, slightly breathless and disheveled, they stopped short, colliding with one another and staring in open astonishment. The stone was moved! It had been sealed and guarded, they knew. Not now. Now the tomb stood open, the guards nowhere in sight.

Edging forward, they cautiously entered the tomb. Step by step they walked to the place the body should have been. It wasn’t there. Only a lump of linen rested where Jesus’ body would have lain. Casting questioning glances at one another, their minds reeled with questions. Had someone stolen the body? Had His disciples gotten there before them and moved it to a different tomb? Were those missing guards up to shenanigans? Or, in the emotional upset of that day, had they forgotten the directions and ended up at the wrong tomb? What, exactly, was going on? And where was the body of their beloved Lord? 

Silently agreeing they should go and solve this mystery, the women turned to find two men had entered the tomb as well. Strange men. Curious men. Not like anyone in town. Their clothing dazzled in the damp darkness of the tomb. Their faces shone with angelic light. And their words, when they finally broke through the barrier of terror engulfing the women, asked the probing question, “Why are you looking for the living among the dead?” And followed it up with the victorious revelation, “Jesus isn’t here. He has risen. Just like He said He would.” (Luke 23:50-24:8)

One can hardly blame the women for scooting closer together and gripping one another’s hands a bit more tightly. It was a startling question. A rebuke. An indictment of their measly faith. It would, however, be impossible to find fault with their response to the ensuing statements, either. With not so much as a fare-thee-well, they squeezed through the entrance and raced toward town, sandals slapping hard-packed dirt, billowing cloaks flowing behind them, robes tangling in flailing legs. Their carefully packed baskets full of spices and perfumes lay in mangled disarray in the dirt outside the tomb. They didn’t need them anymore. There was no awful smell to cover. No rotting flesh. No decomposing organs. No dust returning to dust. Jesus wasn’t in that cold, dark, damp, sullen, silent, saddening place! He had risen, just like He said! 

The staggering exuberance of those women is nearly palpable in the reading of the account. Bursting into the place the disciples were hiding, they related the morning’s events. Early morning hiking. Mid-morning race. Excited voices talked over one another. Rapid-fire words tangled together. Yet one clear, concise, unified exclamation rushed out of the babbling stream joyously announcing, “Jesus is alive!” (Luke 24:8-10)

A thousand accounts throughout the Bible draw our amazed minds to a place of wishing we could have been there, witnessed them. Physical healing. Temple cleansing. Water walking. None pulls so greatly as this. How magnificent would it have been to witness this most glorious pronouncement of who Jesus truly was! How fantastic, phenomenal! What a boost for one’s faith! What a life-changing moment to hear, “Jesus is alive!” 

It is nearly impossible to believe any follower of Jesus could feel differently. But the disciples did. Sequestered away in clandestine crews, anxiously awaiting the arrival of those who would do to them what they had done to Jesus, the disciples were too afraid to believe. Too hesitant to rejoice at the news. Too faithless to believe that a dead man could walk. At least ten of them were. (Luke 24:11)

Not Peter. Bouncing to his feet, he ran out the door and sprinted to the tomb. He didn’t go inside. Didn’t need to. Bending to look in the doorway, he saw all he needed to see. Empty linen clothes. No body. No bones. No decaying stench. A smile pulled itself across his face as he straightened and turned back toward town, a skip in his step. It was a time for rejoicing. The marvelous truth settled deep in his soul. It had all been true. Jesus had died to bring life to those dead in trespasses and sins. People like Peter. Like you. Like me. But He hadn’t stayed dead. He’d kept His word. He had risen. Jesus was alive! The party was just getting started. (Luke 24:12; I Peter 1:3)

I wonder when the party ended. It must have. I see no sign of its continuance. Our churches are full of clock-watching, list-checking attendees who have places to go and things to do. The rejoicing is muted. The praise is stifled. The reveling in the presence of Jehovah is kept to a minimum. It’s as if the message of the resurrection never made it down through time to you and me. Not because we haven’t heard it. Not because we don’t believe it. It simply seems to have lost its luster compared to the shiny baubles of the world. Perhaps we need a reminder. Of who we are. Of what Jesus did. Perhaps we need to hear it again, not in cunning, beautiful phrases of poetry but in the raw truth of what actually happened. 

When you were worthless, useless, disgustingly filthy, completely dead, beyond resuscitation, crushed by the enormous millstone of your sins, God sent Jesus to die for you. He didn’t have to. As horrific as that death was, He chose it over His own life, dying to rescue you. But He didn’t stay dead. He rose again. His death and resurrection removed the weight of your sin, breathed life back into your soul, and provided you the privilege of walking in Him, sitting with Him in heavenly places. Your death is now to sin and self! You are alive in Christ alone! Jesus is your peace, your reconciliation, your hope. He is your access to the Father. You are no longer a stranger or alien, but a living, thriving citizen of God’s own household. If you know all this, have experienced it, and are still not rejoicing, you need to read it again! (Ephesians 2)

Read it until the overwhelming exuberance of being alive in the risen Savior forces you to shed the shroud of mourning and strike up the band for dancing! Act like you know what that “He is risen” flag you are touting means! It means you don’t have to be a captive to sin anymore. It means you don’t have to let sin suffocate your soul. It means you don’t have to die in your sin and sacrifice Heaven. It means you can be alive. Alive in Christ. Alive to rejoice and dance and sing. Alive to run free with exuberance, trip over your sandals, muddle your excited words, and get busy telling someone, anyone, everyone that since Jesus is alive, they can be, too. 

They can come to Him in repentance, accept the free gift of His forgiveness, and Jesus Christ will set up housekeeping in their very being. Sin will die and their soul will live, because the resurrection of Jesus Christ brought life. Abundant life. Resurrected life. Life for everyone who realized they were dead in sin and opted to do something about it. For everyone who asks. Whosoever will. Everyone. Everywhere. No exceptions. (John 7:37; Revelation 22:17; Mark 8:34-38; Romans 6:4-14)

 I am so glad eternal life is for everyone! Me. You. Your co-workers. Your neighbors. Your friends. I’m ecstatic that Jesus isn’t dead! We’d be hopelessly, eternally lost without Him. Seriously. We’d have nothing to say in this day when the world so desperately needs words of hope. Words from the living dead. Words from me. Words from you. Words that tell them their sin doesn’t have to be a death sentence, it can be commuted because Jesus didn’t stay dead and they don’t have to, either. Sin brings fear, torment, anxiety, worry, and death. Jesus brings peace, calm, hope, strength, courage, and life. And this is their day. Their day to choose death to sin. Choose life in Christ. Their day to rejoice as only the living dead can. Our omnipotent, omniscient, omnipresent God is alive. He is sovereign. He reigns. The party is just getting started! (I John 4:18; Colossians 2:13-14; John 14:27; Romans 6:23; Deuteronomy 30:19)

It’s finally here! I want to shout about it. My exuberance over this long-awaited, much anticipated day likely exceeds that of others. I can’t help it. The greatest Wednesday of the year has finally arrived. Ash Wednesday. I am so excited! Lent is finally here!

Ah, Lent. The fresh spring of the soul. The spiritual cleaning out. The decreasing of myself to increase the light of Jesus. The loss of myself that I might find more of Him. The emptying of my soul that I might revel in His filling. The “He must increase, I must decrease” season of the soul. The days, weeks when I spend significantly more time than usual brushing out cobwebs and shaking dust from the corners of my soul, creating more and more room for Christ. The resulting joyous rejuvenation that follows is worth everything, worth anything, that must be sacrificed, renounced, or denied.

I know. Lent is not normally touted as a celebration. It is supposed to be a somber time of sackcloth and ashes, fasting and self-denial. I know. It is to remind us of the wilderness temptations and endless days of fasting. I know. I remember. I also remember what happened when Jesus came down out of the wilderness. He was filled with the power of the Holy Spirit. There must have been some kind of celebrating in Heaven when He walked back into Galilee victorious! (Luke 4:14)

Led out into the wilderness by the Spirit, Jesus spent 40 days there. Forty harrowing days. This was not a vacation. It was not a sightseeing trip. He was not there to take in the scenery or photograph the lone tree managing to exist on the edge of a cliff. There was no tent in which to rest, no companion to share the sights and discuss His thoughts. He’d taken nothing with Him, had nothing to eat. No backpack with trail mix and protein snacks. No granola bar tucked in His pocket. No trees of ripened fruit lined His path. This was a mission. A test that wasn’t a test. By the end of His time there, He was hungry. He was tired. Tired of being tempted. 

Neither the lack of an invitation nor the decided dearth of food and vegetation prevented the evil one from joining him in his wilderness trek. Seems he believed it a grand opportunity to thwart redemption’s plan. He’d been relentless in his taunting, resourceful in his tempting. He’d tried a hundred things already. Frustratingly for him, nothing had worked.  Suddenly noting the rumbling sounds of enormous hunger emitting from Jesus’ belly, the evil one nearly giggled in glee as a brilliant idea burst across his brain. Knowledge culled from years of cunning observation, told him that humanity would do nearly anything to stave off hunger, rise in power and popularity, and preserve their own lives, he grinned in cocky self-assurance that his time spent in this awful wilderness tracking down the Savior of mankind would finally be worth it. 

Clearly, he’d forgotten he was dealing with divinity, not humanity. Every plan he tried was thwarted. Not one of his traps worked. Devoid of worldly clutter and full of the Holy Spirit, Jesus had an immediate rebuttal for everyone. 

“Turn stones into bread and eat.”

“Man doesn’t live by bread alone.” (Deuteronomy 8:3)

“Gain the world in exchange for the sum of your holiness.”

“You shall worship and serve only the Lord your God.” (Deuteronomy 6:13)

“Show everyone, right now, who You are, regardless what the Father’s plan may be.”

“Do not test the Lord your God.” (Deuteronomy 6:16)

 Fresh out of ideas, the evil one heaved a sigh that started at the soles of his dirty little feet, conceded for the moment, and retreated to his lair to contemplate his next move. And Jesus, emerging triumphant through the strength of His Father, returns to Galilee full of the power of the Holy Spirit. I hold my belief. Heaven celebrated. (Luke 14:1-14)

See, I’ve read the Book. All of it. Many times over. I know the outcome of this situation and all the other ones. I’ve read the back of the Book. I know how it ends. I know Who ends up victorious. Yet every time I read this account and my irritation jumps to the fore over the evil one’s decided devilment, I find myself cheering at each and every victorious quotation from the lips of the One who came to save His people from their sins. From the first jab to the sucker punch, I rejoice and my soul cries out within me to be that quick to vanquish temptation with the Word of God. I want every part of my heart to resonate with the light and life of Christ so when temptation comes, I have every resource I need to withstand the onslaught. 

Unfortunately, I get bogged down in the cares of life. My soul gets cluttered. I get tired and hungry, sick and scared, busy, lonely, distracted, bored. It is then the evil one visits. He comes in sans invitation firing off fierce accusations, offering ridiculous suggestions, and dangling tantalizing temptations before my tired eyes. In my moment of weakness, when I’m not at my best, I find myself actually listening to his babbling, considering his ridiculousness, wavering in my faith. As I cast around my cluttered soul for an answer, a comeback, a word to shut him up while I get my bearings, I realize how many unimportant things for which I have created room. And all the important things I haven’t. I desperately need a decluttering.

You likely need one as well. Our schedules are too full of things we don’t need to do, meetings that aren’t with God, events that fail to serve His purpose. Too many of our conversations are with humanity, not Deity. Too many of our appointments are with our gods, not our God. Our minds are too busy hammering out our latest business deal or calculating the coins of our next sale to bother counting the cost of losing the war with temptation. Because of our lack of attention, we have sold the space in our souls to anger, pride, lust, and revenge. Our hearts have become storage units of unrepented sin instead of catalogs of God’s grace. (Matthew 13:18-23)

We decidedly need Lent. Not just 40 days in the Spring of the year when we give up cheesecake and coffee and french fries. Not just 40 days of grudging self-denial because our pastor says we should. Not 40 days of limitations to check a box in hope of insuring our eternal security. No. A thousand times no! We don’t need 40 days of nothing, we need 40 days of everything. Forty days of everything God can give us when we declutter our lives and make space for an intimate, continual relationship with the Father. Forty days of preparation to do war against the evil one whenever he deigns to attack. 

He will attack. When you least expect it, he will strike. When things go pear-shaped, he’ll be right there, encouraging you to give up. He’ll say it isn’t worth it. God isn’t doing His part. His promises aren’t true. You can’t trust Him. The evil one will say a lot of things to turn your head and draw you aside. It will all be rubbish. He’ll say it anyway.  And if your soul is cluttered with things of the world and cares of this life, you won’t have a ready defense. You won’t have room for one. (Ephesians 6:12; I Peter 5:8; John 8:44; Psalm 139:23-24) 

So declutter your soul. Make space for God. Let go of all the things that stop the continuous flow of His presence through your life. Declutter your hearts. Make room for Jesus. Rid yourself of besetting sins and private sins and presumptuous sins. Declutter your life. Make it a place where Christ reigns. Cut out the excess, the unnecessary things that prevent you from spending time in Bible study, memorization, and conversation with God. Do Lent. Not to cut calories, curb spending, or certify Heaven. Actively engage in the process of Lent to prepare room in your heart that you might have an answer for every trial, temptation, and test. Whether March or October, tradition or commitment, when you find your heart cluttered, your mind muddled, your answers to temptation amiss, may you take time to declutter your heart and prepare room in your life for the Lord. (Luke 10:19; James 4:7; Ephesians 6:11; II Corinthians 10:4; II Timothy 4:18; Hebrews 12:1; Psalm 19:12-13)

It was a death trap. A beautiful death trap. After months of meticulous labor, weeks of waiting, and days of suspense, the latest testament to the king’s wealth and power sat waiting to be unveiled. The finished product was expected to be glorious. Ninety feet of towering gold draped across nine feet of land. Surely it would make the plain of Dura look like a golden pond. 

The king was throwing a party in its honor. An enormous celebration to dedicate his new idol. Musicians of every type had been commissioned to play. Every prominent person in the government had been invited. Nebuchadnezzar’s own excitement could hardly be contained. He had a grand plan for the day. Everyone would gather around the base of the statue. The scribe would take his place at the podium and the crowd would instantly quiet to hear the words from the king’s hand. When the final word of his new decree was read, music would burst forth from the bandstand. Trumpeting horns. Trilling flutes. Tinkling harps. At the cacophony, all the people would immediately, without question, fall on their faces in worship to the golden god. Everyone. He’d made sure of it. 

A wily grin slid across King Nebuchadnezzar’s face as he admitted to himself that the people had been left with no other choice. Their only choice was his choice. They would do it or die. The final sentence of his new decree resounded with clarity. There could be no misunderstanding. Worship or queue up at the entrance to the blazing furnace of fire. His arrogant self-assuredness believed no one would choose death over bowing. Of course they wouldn’t! Except they did. 

Standing at the back of the congregation, three men stood shoulder to shoulder, faces set, feet braced, souls settled against the coming onslaught. The scribes’ words echoed in their ears but their choice was already made. They wouldn’t bow. Couldn’t bow. They didn’t need a new god. They already knew the true One. No other god could ever compare to the One who had the power to deliver and rescue and save. The One who had already escorted them quite safely through more than they ever imagined they would endure. They took His command much more seriously than anything issued by a mere mortal. There was no question. They would have no other gods besides Him. (Exodus 20:3-6)

The row of ramrod spines did not go unnoticed. Certain Chaldeans, anxious to stir up strife, scurried to the king, whispering in his ear this latest defection. Burning anger surged in the heart of Nebuchadnezzar.  Who would dare to defy his command? Those three Hebrew boys? What were they thinking? Had he not promoted them and given them honor among his people?  

Calling Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego before him, the king smothered his anger enough to graciously offer them a second chance to bow. A gracious offer capped with arrogant scoffing. Surely they realized his power. Surely they realized he would follow through on his threat. They would absolutely march right into that furnace if they refused to bow. No human would stand between them and his decree. No one would intercede on their behalf. No god on earth could or would rescue them from his power.  

Nebuchadnezzar was right. The gods he trusted would never be able to save anyone from anything. Gods of gold and wood and stone. Destructible gods. Impotent gods. The god in which Nebuchadnezzar placed his faith and hope and confidence could never do anything for anyone. He clearly hadn’t met their God! Their God could do anything for anyone. In fact, He had a reputation for miraculous rescues. 

As well as they knew God’s reputation, it stands to reason that their humanity reeled with questions during the music and bowing, throughout the long walk to stand before the king, or in the middle of his self-important speech. What if God didn’t send a rescue this time? What if He allowed the flames to ignite their hair, the coals to melt their sandals, and their garments to act as kindling for an already blazing fire? What if He allowed their skin to melt, their lungs to ache, their death to be agonizing and torturous? What if He allowed them to be burned alive? Would it be worth making that stand, refusing to bow, taking that chance? Would it still be worth everything to follow God even if He didn’t send a rescue? 

Having counted the cost, they announced their conclusion to the king. Although their faith completely rested in the ability of the sovereign God of Heaven to deliver them from the torture of the furnace and the hand of the king, their resolve wouldn’t waver, even if He didn’t. If this was their moment to enter eternal glory, they weren’t going to miss it for the world. They weren’t going to capitulate. They weren’t going to bend even one knee. No matter how many times the music sounded, not one of them would be faking a sneeze or doubling over in a manufactured fit of coughing. No. Even if God chose not to deliver them from being placed in the furnace or rescue them once there, their minds were made up, their hearts were set, their faces would look only to their God. Even if He didn’t send the answer for which their humanity hoped. (Daniel 3:1-18)

You know as I do, there is more to the story. There is a grand rescue. Fire-walking of epic proportions. Angelic intervention. An exodus of men who smelled and looked as if they’d just come from their chambers after readying for the day. The sweeping hand of God in miraculous salvation. It’s all beautiful and wonderful and inspiring, yet I find my mental ship run aground on the words of verse 18, “But, even if He doesn’t…” (Daniel 3:18-27)

From the comfort of your first-world home, surrounded by freedoms and rights and privileges you believe to be indestructible, it is nearly impossible to truly imagine the magnitude of such a moment. Suspended between life and death, your words and actions the deciding factors. The choice you believed you had years to make is placed before you demanding immediate satisfaction. You have run out of time. You must choose. Now. Faith or falsehood. Heaven or hell. Eternal or earthly. Godly or godless. 

It is a terrifyingly sobering thought. At a time when sacrificial following of God has been abandoned for cultural Christianity with its permissive pursuit of personal happiness, it seems unlikely that the attendees of the modern church are ready to make a stand. No. They are far from ready. Absorbed in their lives and aspirations, social status, net worth, and earthly acclaim, there has been no time to count the cost. No time to weigh the options. Not a moment to spare on eternal outcomes. And, subsequently, no stalwart answer of faithfulness if ever commanded to surrender their eternity for the world.    

We take it all for granted, our freedom to worship and pray and read the Bible. We think it won’t happen to us, this persecution and pain. We believe surely God will deliver His people in general and us in particular, from hardship and suffering for the sake of His name. But what if He doesn’t? What if tomorrow someone knocks on your door and asks you to make the choice of a lifetime? Jesus or a blazing furnace. A stoning. A firing squad. A beheading. Even if your faith steadfastly believes God can rescue you from any of these things, does your answer hold even if He doesn’t? (Job 13:15)

In Matthew 24:9, Jesus says that because of His name, those who have chosen to faithfully follow Him will be delivered up to tribulation, hate, and death. In other words, you have to make a choice. Now. You can’t wait until the fists thud on your door or the knife is at your throat. You have to choose now, while you can think clearly and debunk the fear that will most certainly assail your soul. You have to choose today whom you will serve. Fix it firmly in your mind and set your heart and soul to serve the one true God for time and eternity. Whichever He gives you. (Joshua 24:15; Deuteronomy 30:15-20; I Chronicles 22:19, 28:9-10; Luke 10:27)

So choose today. Now. Not when you are forced, coerced, badgered or bullied. Not when your options are removed and fear is clogging your throat. Not because you are promised freedom from hardship or persecution. Lay aside the earthly and take up the eternal. Count the cost. Weigh the rewards. Is anything worth more than your soul? Then Choose. Choose Jesus. Choose life. Eternal life. Choose faith in the eternal refuge of the one God who can do anything for anyone and hold fast, even if He doesn’t. (Deuteronomy 33:27; Mark 8:36-37; Matthew 6:19-20; Job 42:2)

Puffs of dust rose from the dirt road, coating the hems of their robes with every sandaled footstep. Quick footsteps. With seven miles to go between Jerusalem and Emmaus, there was no reason to dawdle. The trek had started silently, each man introspectively assessing his beliefs, examining his heart, exhorting himself to keep hold of his faith. The past week had been unbelievable. Struggling to make sense of it all alone, they began discussing the string of recent events. Events that broke their hearts. Events that boggled their minds. Events certain to buffet even the strongest of faith. 

Long-time followers of Jesus, they certainly hadn’t seen this coming. No matter how many Pharisees hated His teaching, no matter how many temple leaders despised His knowledge, no matter how jealous so many were of His miraculous abilities, they never dreamed things would end up like this! Not once did they think those hateful souls would actually kill Him. Mistakenly believing all men could be logical, they had naively thought those spiteful hearts would thoughtfully weigh Jesus’ miraculous works and appropriate teachings against their unfounded dislike and choose to return to neutral corners. 

It would be impossible to measure how severely they had underestimated the depth of evil that springs from a human heart where jealousy has been nurtured into hate and bitterness. By the time they realized their miscalculation, it was too late. Jesus had been arrested. He’d been unfairly tried, found guilty without a shred of evidence, and sentenced to death. The crowd who so happily accepted His miracles now violently screamed for His demise. “Crucify Him!” The ugly chant would echo in their ears long after the crowd had been placated. 

Helplessly, they stood by and watched as the soldiers crucified Jesus. Their hearts leaden in their chests, their stomachs churning, their eyes burning with unshed tears. They had been so sure He was the One. The One that would redeem Israel. The One that would save His people from their sins. The One that would come and fulfill all the things the prophets had written. The One for whom they spent their lives waiting and watching, desperately hoping He’d appear in their lifetime. (Luke 22:39-23:56)

But what were they supposed to think now? Jesus was crucified, dead, and buried. Along with Him had gone their unabashed hope, their mustard seed faith. Sure, they had heard the women’s report of an empty tomb and angels declaring He was alive. They knew the vacancy of the tomb had been verified. But Jesus hadn’t walked out to great fanfare, earthquakes, and voices from Heaven. He hadn’t hung around sitting on the moved tombstone waiting for them to discover He was back. They hadn’t seen Him at all and their human hearts were having trouble believing what they couldn’t see. (Romans 5:5; Matthew 17:20; Romans 8:25; Hebrews 11:1)

They’d seen plenty of things hard enough to believe when watching them happen. Blind men becoming sighted. Withered limbs restored. Palsy healed. Evil spirits exterminated. Fish multiplied. Believing Jesus was alive shouldn’t have been that difficult. After all they had seen, their faith should have been like Kilimanjaro. It wasn’t. When everything was said and done, when the basis of their faith was reported missing, their faith itself was discovered shaken. (Mark 10:46-52; Luke 6:6-11; Mark 2:1-5; Mark 7:24-30; John 6:1-14)

As their discussion lengthened, they were joined by a man traveling the same direction. They hadn’t seen Him approach. They didn’t recognize His face. They assumed He was not from around there. How could He be? He seemed completely ignorant of the horrific events in Jerusalem over the past week. Apparently, they felt it their duty to enlighten Him. Exchanging a look that clearly asked, “How could this guy come from Jerusalem and not know what happened last week?” They began to tell the tale. 

Picture it. Jesus. Intellectual prophet. Miracle worker. Mighty healer. Inspiring teacher. Highly respected. Deeply loved and desperately hated. Accosted by chief priests and rulers. Tried in a biased court. Sentenced to death for nothing. Brutally crucified. Clearly dead. Safely buried. Proclaimed alive. Presumed missing.

Oddly, their new traveling companion wasn’t nearly as distressed by the list of unfortunate events as they were. He saw sense and order where they saw chaos and wild abandon. His frustration appeared to be in the fact they had missed it. They had missed the correlation of recent events with the prophecies written centuries before. They hadn’t been wrong after all! They had been with Jesus! 

Reaching their destination, yet unwilling to end their discussion, they urged their new friend to come and stay with them for the night. He did. As they sat at the dinner table, the Man took the bread, blessed it, and began serving them. In that moment the scales fell off their eyes, the fog lifted from their minds and they saw Him. Really saw Him. The message the angels had given the women at the tomb was true! They knew it was! They had been with Jesus!

For a few seconds, they simply stared at one another. Then reality struck. Jumping up from the table, they snatched up a bread roll for the journey and ran out the door. Their feet thudded the packed dirt as they raced back the way they came. The mileage didn’t matter, the message did. Their hearts, set aflame by the words of the resurrected Jesus Christ, were burning to tell the others! They had to tell them it was true! Everything the prophets had preached. Everything the angels had spoken. Everything their meager faith had believed. It was all true! Jesus was alive. (Luke 24:1-35)

And so it should be with us. Our hearts, aflame with the greatest story ever told, should be burning to tell others. Jesus Christ came into the world to save sinners. Not just during His physical lifetime, but for as long as the earth hangs in space. For every soul who dares to come before Him in repentance. For everyone, everywhere. No exceptions. Forgiveness is possible. Heaven is promised. It seems impossible, but because of Jesus’ death and resurrection, it isn’t! You can have peace on earth and Heaven too! Even if you struggle to believe, pull up on the bootstraps of your puny faith and hang on, because it’s all true! 

Every word is true. Every promise ever written in the Bible is true. Old Testament. New Testament. It doesn’t matter. God has never reneged on His promises. He is faithful. Even when we can’t see it or feel it or force it. God is working and planning. If He said it, He will most certainly do it. The knowledge should make your heart burn with love for God and urgency to share the Good News with others. It should have you lurking on every corner of your life waiting for an opportunity to share the message, waiting to tell the world it’s all true. 

I don’t know how long it takes to walk seven miles. I’m sure it depends on the terrain, the climate, and one’s physical fitness. It would likely take a couple of hours at a brisk pace. Unfortunately for our souls, we’ve quit walking places. We don’t have time. Our overscheduled lifestyle would have us driving those seven miles, squeezing in a teleconference on the way.  We’d arrive in Emmaus never having spoken with the heavenly Stranger on the way. Our hearts wouldn’t burn at the beauty of His words. Our souls wouldn’t ache with the necessity of sharing. We’d miss a message from Jesus, not because He didn’t speak, but because we were too busy to listen. 

Perhaps we should go back to walking. Perhaps we should turn off the radio, silence the phone, close the computer and tablet, pause the audiobook. And listen. Listen to God. Listen to the voice that says your faith was not misplaced. The voice that tells you it’s all true. Your sin is forgiven. Your debt is paid. Your unfading, imperishable, undefiled eternal inheritance is promised. And no matter how often your faith staggers, shudders, or stumbles under the weight of current events or dubious broadcasts, you can always come back to the unimpeachable truth that the God who breathed the words of Genesis also spoke the words of Revelation and He has never misrepresented His word. It’s all true! (I Peter 1:3-4; I John 1:7; Colossians 1:13-14,22; Joshua 21:45; II Corinthians 1:20; Romans 4:21)

So go tell them! Tell the postal worker, the electrician, the landscaper. Tell the homeless man, the prostitute, the addict. Tell the bank teller, the grocery clerk, the trash collector. Tell your friends. Tell your family. Tell yourself! Shout the message! Jesus Christ came into the world to save sinners! Me. You. Them. It’s all true! Our redemption has come. Jesus Christ gave up Heaven, took on flesh, lived, died, and rose again so we could be free from the grip of sin. He came to redeem our souls from sin. He came to redeem our lives from destruction. He came to redeem our eternity from hell. Yes, friends, it’s all true! (I Timothy 1:15; Psalm 103:3-4; Hebrews 2:14; Romans 6:11-14,22)

Because it is true, we have the absolute privilege of walking with Jesus and the burning obligation of sharing these truths. May your time spent with Jesus leave your heart burning with a message you are loath to keep silent. May your soul burn with the urgency to share Jesus. May you go out into the highways and byways, greenways and alleyways, and spread the message. It’s all true! (Luke 12:8-9; I Peter 3:15; Colossians 4:5-6; II Timothy 1:7-8)