Chapter 1
The Price of Love
“But he who is greatest among you shall be your servant.
And whoever exalts himself will be abased, and he who
humbles himself will be exalted.”
—Matthew 23:11–12
As December 2005 drew to a close and transitioned into the new year, I found myself spending more and more time alone with God, seeking Him for clear direction for the coming year. When that direction came in the form of a seven-word admonition, it was not at all what I had expected, or hoped, to hear.
“Somebody has to set up the chairs.”
The first time I heard it, I shook my head, scratched it, and shook it again. Why would God make such a statement, and what did it have to do with me? Surely I had misunderstood. My heart’s desire was to write and publish the words He had given me, to speak and teach about His great love and calling for our lives. But the more I tried to convince myself that I had imagined those words—“somebody has to set up the chairs”—the more I knew they had been given to me by the God who says what He means and means what He says.
So I went into the new year believing God wanted me to be content simply helping others with their books and...well, setting up chairs at meetings so others could speak and teach. Without too much resistance, I accepted that and moved ahead—until something happened that caught my attention and clarified my focus.
My eighty-six-year-old mother lives with us. She is a strong Christian and is mentally alert, but her mobility is limited. She’s unable to do things most of us do with ease: driving to a doctor’s appointment, going to the grocery store, changing the sheets on her bed, standing at the stove to cook a meal. Being her primary caregiver can become stressful and time-consuming, particularly when I’m trying to work all that into an already busy schedule. One day as I rushed around the house, trying to get as much done as possible before running an errand for my mom—all the time wishing I could just sit down at my computer and get some much-needed work done—I caught myself grumbling. Actually I was feeling sorry for myself. And I didn’t like the sound of it one bit.
“I’m sorry, Lord,” I whispered. “Forgive me for being so selfish and impatient. It’s just that I want so much to be working right now.”
“Somebody has to set up the chairs.”
I was stunned. Is that what God had been trying to tell me earlier in the year—that I was in a season of service for my mother, someone who had spent many years of her own life taking care of me?
I felt myself relax as I began to understand God’s call to servanthood in my life—my personal call to live a you-first life in a me-first world. It wasn’t just about living selflessly so unbelievers would be drawn to Jesus. It was also about daily laying down my life, giving up the right to plan my days and order my steps, so that I could help others fulfill the needs of their day. It was about choosing to honor the sanctity of life, regardless of the personal cost, rather than selfishly guarding the quality and convenience of my life at the expense of others. And I realized that if I allowed a grumbling, complaining, me-first spirit to taint my service to others—including my mom—I was in danger of falling into the grip of the very culture of death I’ve spent so much time writing
and speaking against. I was on the verge of hardening my heart.
Choose life!
God was calling me to a you-first season of “setting up chairs” for others, especially my dear mother, much as she once did for me. In a similar but much more profound way Jesus did the same for all of us when He walked the lonely road to Calvary and willingly hung on that cross in payment for our sins, giving up His own earthly life so we might gain eternal life. As I pondered the situation with my mother, the question before me
was: would I humbly and graciously choose life and blessing...or death and curses? His way...or mine?
“Somebody has to set up the chairs.”
If we’re honest, we’ll admit that we all prefer to be the one on stage, the one receiving the accolades and praise and attention, rather than the silent one in the background, setting up chairs so others can come and rest as they listen to God’s message. But if we truly believe we are all one Body, here to serve God and others, then setting up chairs at the women’s Bible study is just as vital as giving the keynote address at a national gathering. And caring for those who cannot care for themselves is a great privilege, bestowed upon us by the Creator of the Universe, the Author of Life.
God has not called us to serve ourselves, but to serve others—even to the laying down of our lives if need be. This is the you-first lifestyle in a me-first world. In those selfless acts of love and service, we are serving and honoring God by modeling what He has already done for us. Some may be called to be martyrs of the faith—shedding their blood for Jesus’ sake; most of us will simply need to learn how to daily put the needs of others before our own. There is no higher calling, no more fulfilling or joyous existence.
Hearts Hardened Against Truth and Life
Sadly, many in our churches have not discovered the joy of missional living—living a you-first lifestyle in a me-first world. Their hearts are hardened to God’s best for them. And we who have tasted the joys of Christ-first, servant living are easily distracted, frequently returning to our selfish ways and allowing our hearts to harden once again.
Hard hearts are nothing new, of course. Adam hardened his heart against God when he listened to his wife and committed treason in the Garden of Eden. Cain hardened his heart when God rejected his offering; out of that hardened heart, murder entered the world. And hardened hearts have continued to spawn untold pain and suffering down through the ages, as God’s command to choose life over death is ignored and curses replace blessings.
Jesus was no stranger to dealing with hard hearts. He never got sidetracked with politics or cultural agendas. He always went straight to the heart of a situation—people’s hearts, because He knew that people’s actions and words reflect their hearts. He understood that dealing with actions and words is nothing more than a temporary fix. For permanent
results, He always dealt with hearts, and He dealt with them one at a time.
Going back 2,000 years, we see Jesus, walking the dusty roads of Judea with his twelve disciples and an ever-growing throng of followers, stopping to bless the children. “Unless you are converted and become as little children,” He said to His listeners, “you will by no means enter the kingdom of heaven” (Matthew 18:3). What did He mean by that? What was it about His followers that needed to be converted and “become as little children”?
It was their hearts. Children’s hearts are soft and tender, trusting and vulnerable, the very qualities that cause us to want to cherish and protect them. But as children get older and begin to learn about the high price of trust and love, as they experience the results of living in a culture that chooses death over life, their hearts change. Protective walls are built, and hardness sets in. Big, round, trusting eyes are replaced with wary glances and suspicious frowns. Joyful, singsong voices give way to sarcastic, cynical words. Mistrust and self-defense override the inner longings for unconditional love and acceptance. Tenderhearted innocence gives way to hardhearted, worldly wisdom.
That is the reason it is often easier to lead young children than adults to Christ. When we present the gospel to children, many readily accept the truth that Jesus loves them, wants to forgive their sins, and come into their hearts. Adults, hardened by time and events, come up with all sorts of reasons not to believe and accept that simple truth:
• How do I know there really is a God?
• If there is a God, how do I know Jesus is the only way to reach Him?
• How can a loving God allow such terrible things to happen in the world?
• Maybe God can forgive some people, but not me. You don’t know what I’ve done!
• Who says I’m a sinner? I’m no worse than the next guy.
Some of the religious leaders of Jesus’s day had their own reasons why they couldn’t—or wouldn’t—accept Jesus as their Messiah. But all those reasons can be summed up in two words: hard hearts.
It is difficult to understand why many of the religious leaders—the very ones who best knew the Scriptures and were supposedly anxiously awaiting the coming Messiah—did not recognize or receive Him when He came. After all, not only did Jesus fulfill the Old Testament prophecies about the Messiah, He also performed miracles that verified His identity.
According to many historical and religious sources Jesus wasn’t the only one to perform miracles. According to Ron Moseley in his work Yeshua: A Guide to the Real Jesus and the Original Church, various first-century rabbis, such as Onias and Hanina ben Dosa, were known for performing miracles of healing and deliverance. However, he goes on to cite scholar Arnold Fruchtenbaum who points out that there were four major types of Messianic miracles that ordinary rabbis could not perform: the healing of lepers; the casting out of a demon of dumbness; the healing of someone born blind; the raising of the dead. Jesus performed all four.
The highest religious court of the day, the Sanhedrin, which consisted of 71 members (judges), would routinely send out a delegation to investigate any reports of miracles. The investigation involved two steps: first, observation; second, interrogation. In the early stages of Jesus’s miracles, the delegation simply observed Him (see Mark 2:5–7; Luke 5:17); but when He healed the lepers (the first type of the four Messianic miracles mentioned above; see Luke 17:11–19), they were forced to consider His claims, and the interrogations began.
Jesus’ second Messianic miracle was the casting out of a dumb spirit (see Matthew 12:22). Although there were recorded incidences of deliverances by other rabbis, none had ever cast out a demon of dumbness. The reason for this, according to Jewish historians, was that the method the rabbis used to perform a deliverance was to ask the demon its name, and then use the demon’s name to cast it out, a method sometimes employed by Jesus (see Mark 5:9). Because a dumb spirit could not speak, the rabbis could not identify it or cast it out. (It was that very type of spirit the disciples could not cast out in Mark 9:17–18.) Jesus was now performing miracles that no one else was able to do, and people were responding with remarks such as, “Could this be the Son of David [the promised Messiah]?” (Matthew 12:23). Even the members of the Sanhedrin delegation were beginning to take Him seriously.
Then, in the ninth chapter of John, we read of Jesus’s healing of a man born blind, another Messianic miracle. When the Sanhedrin delegation confronted the man about his healing, he replied, “Since the world began it has been unheard of that anyone opened the eyes of one who was born blind. If this man were not from God, He could do nothing” (vv. 32–33). The delegation was incensed that this man’s healing—and now his statements attesting to Jesus’s origin—were aiding in the confirmation of the messiahship of Jesus. And so, they “cast him [the healed blind man] out” (v. 34); in other words, they excommunicated him.
Undeniable Evidence
Finally, we come to the famous story of Jesus’s raising of Lazarus from the dead (see John 11). Although there are other recorded instances of Jesus raising people from the dead (see Mark 5:21–43; Luke 7:11–17) and even of prophets raising the dead in the Old
Testament (see 1 Kings 17:17–24; 2 Kings 4:8–37), the incident with Lazarus is unique. According to Moseley in Yeshua, the Pharisees, one of the most influential and respected Jewish sects of Jesus’s day, believed that when a person died, the person’s spirit hovered over the body for three days; they also believed that during that time there remained an outside chance of resuscitation. However, by the fourth day, all hope was gone.
Along those same lines, the medical technology of that day was not always able to distinguish between someone who was very ill and had slipped into unconsciousness and someone who had actually just died. As a result, people were sometimes buried alive. To guard against such a tragedy, Jewish burial practices incorporated a safeguard. Taken from David Stern’s Jewish New Testament Commentary, the following quote from an eighth-century Jewish writing outlines that safeguard:
We go out to the cemetery and examine the dead [to see if they are still alive and have been buried by mistake] for a period of three days and do not fear being suspected of engaging in the ways of the Amorites [i.e., superstitious practices]. Once a man who had been buried was examined and found to be alive; he lived for twenty-five years more and then died. Another such person lived and had five children before he died.
—S’machot 8:1
John 11:39 tells us clearly how long Lazarus had been in the grave by the time Jesus got to him: “He has been dead four days.” Was it a coincidence that Jesus arrived the day after all Pharisaical hope of resuscitation was gone? Was the delay an oversight on Jesus’s part? Was He being uncaring in taking so long to go to His friend’s aid? After all, verse 6 tells us, “So, when He [Jesus] heard that he [Lazarus] was sick, He stayed two more days in the place where He was.”
Jesus knew exactly what He was doing. He knew the Pharisees’ litmus test for proof of Messiahship; He also loved these religious leaders and desired that they would recognize and receive Him. So, He willingly ordered His steps in such a way as to fulfill their Messianic requirements. In addition, He knew that His disciples, as well as the rest of His followers—nearly all of whom were Jewish—were fully aware of the four Messianic miracles and that He had already fulfilled three of them. That is precisely why, when He and His disciples finally set out to go to Lazarus, Jesus announced, “Lazarus is dead. And I am glad for your sakes that I was not there, that you may believe” (vv. 14–15). When they arrived, Lazarus “had already been in the tomb four days” (v. 17). For Lazarus and his loved ones, all hope was gone. And then Jesus spoke: “Take away the stone” (v. 39).
If there were any questions in anyone’s mind—any remaining doubt that Jesus was the long-awaited Messiah—the next few moments would settle it once and for all. No one—absolutely no one—had ever raised someone from the dead after four days. Jesus spoke again: “‘Lazarus, come forth!’ And he who had died came out bound hand and foot with grave clothes, and his face was wrapped with a cloth. Jesus said to them, ‘Loose him, and let him go’” (John 11:43–44).
He had passed the Pharisees’ litmus test. Jesus had performed every miracle required by the Sanhedrin delegation to prove He was the prophesied Messiah. And so, immediately they bowed down and worshipped Him, right? Wrong. Although the stone that sealed Lazarus’ tomb had been moved so that life could burst forth, the stony hearts of those particular religious leaders had not been moved at all. They ignored the command of the very God they claimed to represent: Choose life! Instead, verse 53 tells us, “From that day on, they plotted to put Him to death.”
Faced with the almost certain fact that Jesus was indeed the Messiah, the religious leaders chose to put to death the One who claimed to be “the way, the truth, and the life” (John 14:6). Despite undeniable evidence of His Messiahship, they hardened their hearts even more and chose to reject the One they had been seeking for so very long. Why? Because they had a me-first mentality, and they cared more about preserving their own quality of life than about acknowledging and worshipping the Giver and Sanctifier of all life. The Sadducees, another Jewish sect of Jesus’s day, also rejected Him. Running the Temple involved great profit and prestige for them, and these men were not ready to give up their comfortable way of life—even to acknowledge and receive the very One for whom the Temple was built, writes Moseley in Yeshua. “If we let Him alone like this,” they reasoned, “everyone will believe in Him, and the Romans will come and take away both our place and nation” (John 11:48).
And so, Jesus, who had done nothing but offer hope and healing, salvation and restoration, would pay the ultimate price for demonstrating His love: He would lay down His life (see John 15:13).
Jesus died in our place, the perfect, once-and-for-all sacrifice for our sins (see Hebrews 7:26–27). And yet, the very ones who claimed to be looking with longing for His coming rejected Him: “He came to His own, and His own did not receive Him” (John 1:11). They preferred death to life, the curses born out of a hard heart rather than the blessings of a relationship with the living God.
Jesus knew about rejection. He knew about pain and suffering. He knew the price of love, and He willingly paid it. He died in our place that we might live. He chose death so we might choose life. And so, because He suffered and died in our place, paying the ultimate price for love, we should be free from pain and suffering, free to live a materially and physically abundant life, to pursue our own quality of life...shouldn’t we? Not if we want to be His disciples.
Counting the Cost
Discipleship has a price. Jesus said, “A disciple is not above his teacher, nor a servant above his master” (Matthew 10:24). A disciple is a “disciplined one” who follows in the footsteps of his master. A disciple of Christ, therefore, is one who chooses to follow Jesus down the very narrow and difficult way that the Master Himself walked while He was on this earth. Jesus said:
“Enter by the narrow gate; for wide is the gate and broad is the way that leads to destruction, and there are many who go in by it. Because narrow is the gate and difficult is the way which leads to life, and there are few who find it.”
—Matthew 7:13–14
Before believers in Christ were ever referred to as Christians (see Acts 11:26), they were called Nazarenes or “followers of the way.” And those early followers quickly learned how narrow and difficult that way was. Many, like Jesus, paid the ultimate price and laid down their lives, considering it an honor and a privilege to do so in His name.
I wonder how many of us today have made that type of commitment. Are we faithfully walking in His footsteps? Or are we more like the Sanhedrin delegation—curious to see Jesus perform miracles, but unwilling to commit to Him? Are we willing to take up His call to be a disciple if it means trading our comfortable lifestyle for a narrow and difficult way that may even include suffering and death?
Jesus said:
“Whoever desires to come after Me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow Me. For whoever desires to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake and the gospel’s will save it. For what will it profit a man if he gains the whole world, and loses his own soul? Or what will a man give in exchange for his soul? For whoever is ashamed of Me and My words in this adulterous and sinful generation, of him the Son of Man also will be ashamed when He comes in the glory of His Father with the holy angels.”
—Mark 8:34–38
Jim Elliot, martyred by Ecuadorian Indians in 1956 along with four other young missionaries, wrote in his journal years earlier: “He is no fool who gives what he cannot keep to gain that which he cannot lose.” He gave up his earthly life and gained a blessed, joyful eternity with Christ. Although some of the religious leaders of Jesus’s day, as well as many of the Jewish common people, accepted Jesus as their Messiah, others did not. Those who rejected Jesus and the eternal life He offered in order to hang on to their temporal way of life were fools. We read the Gospels, and we see it so plainly. And yet, we fail to see that so often we also choose the temporary over the eternal. Why is that?
It is because we have failed to count the cost. Jesus said:
“If anyone comes to Me and does not hate his father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and his own life also, he cannot be My disciple. And whoever does not bear his cross and come after Me cannot be My disciple. For which of you, intending to build a tower, does not sit down first and count the cost, whether he has enough to finish it—lest, after he has laid the foundation, and is not able to finish, all who see it begin to mock him, saying, ‘This man began to build and was not able to finish.’ Or what king, going to make war against another king, does not sit down first and consider whether he is able with ten thousand to meet him who comes against him with twenty thousand? Or else, while the other is still a great way off, he sends a delegation and asks conditions of peace. So likewise, whoever of you does not forsake all that he has cannot be My disciple.”
—Luke 14:26–33
The call to discipleship is serious. The cost is staggering. And payment is required daily….
Making It Personal
1. What specific issues in today’s world most clearly portray the clash between the culture of life and the culture of death? _______________________________________
2. What fears or other sinful attitudes keep you from choosing God’s way over the world’s ways? Life over death? The eternal over the fleeting?________________
3. List your own experiences in which you have had to pay the cost of discipleship. Can you name some instances where Christians, like missionary Jim Elliot and his four young coworkers, have paid the ultimate price?_______
4. Read John 15:13. Write down any instances you can think of in your own life where others showed that kind of love to you, or you showed it to someone else. ___________