Between the Least and the Greatest

JESUS HAS A SEDUCTIVE VOICE , but not in the way of this world. His voice first attracts us beyond where we are to another existence; it does not stop there, but begins to describe what that other existence looks like, and then informs us of what we must do to enter there. In the Sermon on the Mount, he identifies the other, higher, realm as “the kingdom of heaven” (Matt. 5:19), a term he uses often. All of this draws us closer, and our minds are quieted, and we focus on what he is saying. But his voice also challenges us—our lifelong way of seeing the world must change.

So also is it with every disciple he calls. To the first ones, he says, “Do not think that I have come to abolish the Law or the Prophets; I have not come to abolish them but to fulfill them.” (Matt. 5:17) He then counterposes this with “For I tell you that unless your righteousness surpasses that of the Pharisees and the teachers of the law, you will certainly not enter the kingdom of heaven.” (Matt. 5:20) They are caught in the tension, as are we, not between two worlds, but between two worldviews.

It is our worldview that motivates us through choice to action. Our worldview is to some extent conscious, as we intentionally engage with education and vocation choices, and seek out opportunities that interest us. But it is also developed intuitively as we mature, as we interact with the grind of day-to-day life as it swirls arounds us. Some are better than others in pursuing self-knowledge in our quest to examine life and our place in it, but none of us are fully conscious of the intricate labyrinths of our own thoughts; life is far too complex for that degree of objective self-actualization, no matter how highly we value and seek out such clarification.

Then comes an unexpected encounter with Jesus. We don’t know when or where or how this happens. Maybe a new friend challenges us with a probing spiritual question. Perhaps we’ve heard it all before, but this time, somehow, it takes a new twist, makes a different impression. Or we have a life-crisis, and we are anguishingly seeking an answer beyond ourselves. This is the moment when Simon and Andrew hear Jesus say, “Come, follow me.” (Mark 1:17), and leave their fishing boat. It is similar with Matthew, “Follow me.” (Matt. 2:9), who leaves his job as tax collector. Or more dramatically with Paul, knocked off his horse and blinded, who hears “Now get up and go into the city, and you will be told what you must do.” (Acts 9:6) All of them had an encounter with Jesus that changed their worldview and called them into a different way of life. And in each case, the change of life required a radically new way of seeing life. And in each case, though the initial response was instantaneous, their new worldview developed through a process of interaction with Jesus.

So it is with us. Jesus will do whatever it takes to get us to answer the call, and then he works on our belief system—that’s essentially what a worldview is—until it begins to change over a process of time. As our beliefs change, so also do we change, from the inside out. As our beliefs change, our choices inevitably change, and as our choices change, our life changes. We no longer have the same friends; one by one they drop away, and are replaced by different friends who share our new way of seeing life. We no longer have the same activities, at least not in the same way; the hobbies change, the job may change. We are different now, and the old ones simply don’t fit anymore. And there is a cost to this! Peter plaintively says, “We have left all we had to follow you!” (Luke 18:28)

We dimly understand the cost at first, and wonder, on a risk-reward basis, if we are willing to pay it, and wonder just what the reward may be. Our interpretation of cost is first filtered by the old worldview, but Jesus is taking us to new ways of understanding life and its significance. “Consider righteousness,” he says, figuratively holding up a rough stone with a gem to be revealed inside. ‘Unless your righteousness surpasses that of the Pharisees and the teachers of the law, you will certainly not enter the kingdom of heaven.’

It is not a matter of what we do that we give up, nor a case of what we have that we give up, that is important to God. It is a matter of who we are in relationship to God’s standard of righteousness that we must begin to consider, and this comes slowly to us at first, but more quickly later as we apply ourselves through faith to obedience. “If you love me, keep my commands” (John 14:15) says Jesus, as he speaks of the initial cost of following him. It is the beginning of paying the price to acquire a righteousness of which God approves.

And here, at last, we begin to understand. We start to realize that a worldview that seeks self-aggrandizement is a thing of the past for us now; it is detritus of our previous self’s way of thinking and being. But if we misunderstand Jesus’ teaching, we might stop with an incomplete view of this accompanying quote from the Sermon on the Mount: “Therefore anyone who sets aside one of the least of these commands and teaches others accordingly will be called least in the kingdom of heaven, but whoever practices and teaches these commands will be called great in the kingdom of heaven.” (Matt. 5:19) At this point, we might double down on our efforts to practice and to teach, and completely miss his point. If, instead, we are patient with his masterly work of creating the new facets of our life, as each one begins to reflect his glory one by one, progressively we come in more mature fashion to accept his further teaching. “Not so with you. Instead, whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wants to be first must be your slave.” (Matt. 20:26-27)

It is only when Jesus’ voice changes in the way that we perceive it that you and I can begin to undertake the journey of righteousness. When his voice is no longer merely seductive, but authoritative, which in fact is what it has always been, that we find ourselves trusting that we are on the right path. When that happens, it is not his voice that has changed, but we who have changed. And then, least and great lose their meaning in our new world view. There is only one who is great.

Q. Am I truly humble, not just before the Lord, but with others?

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