Jesus’s Hands. Our Hands. // Offering Service
A sermon brought forth from John 13:1-17 and James 4:1-10 preached on Sunday, November 7, 2021
Around Easter time we offer ourselves to passages like this one which tell of the last moments the disciples share with Jesus before His arrest and crucifixion. They’re from the thick of Holy Week when things begin to unravel. The gospel writers don’t hesitate to cast a few of the disciples in a harsh light. When the going got tough, Peter denies his relationship with Jesus not just once, but three times. “I do not know that man.”
Once we’re done raking Peter over the coals, we set our sights on Thomas. History has given that poor guy a bad rap when all he asked for was a chance to see the same thing his fellow disciples had, some visual proof that life with Jesus cannot, will not, does not, end with death. Jesus is life, and with Him death stands no chance. But we understand both Peter and Thomas’s shortcomings.
Like Peter, we have lied and denied when doing so gets us out of hot water. And like Thomas, we have stomped our feet and demanded proof when trusting others was not enough. We get it. But Judas. Well, he’s another matter entirely, isn’t he? It’s one thing to be a denier or a doubter; but Judas, he was a betrayer.
The Gospel writers are not kind to Judas, they pull no punches. They take every opportunity to trash talk Judas. The second half of each of the four Gospels presents an ugly picture of him. He comes off as a man opposed to most everything Jesus says or does or stands for, and it could be that he deserves the harsh treatment the Gospel writers have for him. But I think Judas meant well.
When Jesus calls us—any of us—to become His disciple, He takes a chance on us. He knows we’re not ready for the life He’s calling us into. Jesus may have been perfectly aligned with God. In every single situation, no matter how sticky, He chose the ways of God—the ways of humility and faithfulness and service and love, even when choosing those ways cost Him His reputation and, ultimately, His life. But us?
To say we’re not as consistently faithful is a vast understatement. We have a self-concerned reputation to uphold, while the only reputation Jesus cared to uphold was His Father’s. We make so many promises to ourselves and others that pull us in too many directions all at once until we don’t know who we are anymore. We have so many conflicting commitments.
When’s the last time life felt simple for you? Not easy, necessarily, but simple? We’re not monastics. A monastic is one who lives their life in a single-hearted search for what matters. But none of us are monks or nuns, and it’s been a while since I can honestly say I’ve lived my life in a determined search for only one thing.
Jesus made it look easy. In all His moments, He was singularly devoted to walking in God’s direction for Him. Not once did He compromise himself by choosing a lesser way. Think about the temptation in the wilderness when He was offered the luxuries of self-preservation, the opportunity to wield worldly power over all the kingdoms of the world or to prove to the world in one fell swoop that He was the Son of God by putting on a performance of miracles so spectacular that that `no one could deny that He was from God.
Jesus always had the chance to prove who He was, to exert Himself over others, but He never did so because that’s showmanship, power-grabbing, and self-preservation. That’s not what a Messiah does. But that is the sort of Messiah Judas needed Jesus to be. Before Judas was one of Jesus’s disciples, he was a known zealot, a member of an aggressive and often violent effort to use religion as a political tool to overthrow the Roman government.
Judas needed Jesus to be the kind of Messiah who would lead Israel in that effort. He assumed that Jesus would fulfill his misguided expectations, that when the going got tough, Jesus would fight back; that when cornered, Jesus would finally wield His divine authority and stick it to all the bad guys; that once placed in hot water, Jesus would take up the mantle of vigilante superhero sent from God to lead the nation of Israel in a military uprising strong enough to topple even the strongest of the world’s empires. But Judas was wrong. That’s not who Jesus was. That’s who Judas needed Jesus to be, but we don’t get to tell Jesus who He needs to be.
These words from James’s letter to his congregation get the heart of Christ-informed discipleship. James knew of the desires within that pull us away from ourselves and one another, that make us so proud of ourselves that we become willing to assert ourselves over one another, which is just one of the many ways we unravel.
“God opposes the proud but shows favor to the humble,” he writes. So, “humble yourselves before the Lord, and He will lift you up.” Why does that still seem to us like terrible advice?
Judas serves as a reminder that those who place their needs above those of another, above God’s desires for them, come to ruin. In the upper room that Passover evening, Jesus gathered for what would be His last meal with His friends. Every one of His words that night pointed the way to the cross he would die upon the next day.
“This is body broken apart for you—this is the way God will bring you back into full relationship with Him and one another. Get it inside of you. This is my blood that will be shed for you—this is the way God will bring you back into full relationship with Him and one another, so drink every bit of it.”
Just like every other expression of healing throughout the gospels, Jesus gives himself away that others might gain back their life. This is how Jesus wields power. And it’s a strange type of power. This is sacrificial servanthood. We’re still not used to this. This is service at a cost.
Then Jesus stoops down in front of His own servants because He’s never done teaching us about the length that servanthood should go to show forth the majesty and goodness of God.
“Now that I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also should wash one another's feet. I have set for you an example that you should do as I have done for you.”
Jesus lived His life extending His hands in service to many, including His own disciples. We who are His disciples are then to live our lives extending our hands in service to others because service is what love does. When we take on the full stature of Christ, when we trade in our way for His way, when we get Him inside of us this is who we can be, who we should be by way of singular devotion: servants. Who would have guessed that the height of divine power is service?
Judas couldn’t dedicate himself to Jesus because he was occupied with his own agenda for Jesus. Judas’s agenda had something to do with Jesus, but it was not on Jesus’s terms. It was on his terms. Judas wasn’t in a relationship with Jesus; he was using Jesus to accomplish his own ends, to get his way. There is no such thing as a relationship with Jesus on our terms. Jesus refuses to be used for our benefit.
On this dedication Sunday, this story presents us with a stark choice between two ways. Will we live in singular devotion to our own desires? Or will we live in singularly devoted service to the One who gave of Himself so that we might know and share in real life, together?
Christ’s life was lived in service to love. So it shall be for us, too. Our only agenda.
The height of divine power is service. Service is what love does.
All praises to the One who made it all and finds it beautiful. Alleluia! Amen.