As a teenager, I was part of a small group of friends who started a literature publication called the “Pen Upon the Paper”. We wrote poetry, prose, and short stories which were published in our little paper along with our critiques of each others’ work.
Our little paper, which actually gained a few subscribers (mostly from supportive friends and family) eventually was renamed “The Inkling” in honor of Lewis, Tolkien and Co.
Our writing and publishing project flourished briefly like crocuses in early March and then quickly wilted away as one contributor after another became sidetracked, engrossed, called, etc. to other fields of life.
I’m sharing the piece below because it speaks to the very name and ethos of my blog, and because it relates to the topic of an essay which is currently brewing and stewing within me.
I was 18 years old when I contributed this to the Inkling– probably one of the last before I dropped it altogether. Reading it today, I was tempted to make a few changes- I’m not sure why I imagined the disciples were big, burly men. (except Peter- I still imagine him as a big man, for some reason). And I’m pretty certain it would have been highly unlikely to see a blonde-haired, blue-eyed child in 1st century Israel… but I will honor this younger version of myself, and refrain from editing it.
Who is the Greatest? Matthew 18:1-4
Of course, the question came from Peter.
But the rest of them wanted to know too, and they stood around the Master⎯tense, and a little embarrassed maybe, hoping he wouldn’t know why they asked. Big men with snarled beards and weather-beaten faces; big men with a big question.
They waited for His answer, for He always had the answers it seemed. He said nothing but turned to them and His eyes were sad and deep.
They thought he must have misunderstood when he knelt down in the sun-speckled grass where a young family ate their packed lunch in the shade of a towering sycamore. He held out his arms to their son, a chubby little fellow just learning to walk, with tousled blond hair like sheaves of corn and sparky blue eyes like the Sea of Galilee.
“Come, sweet child” He said. “Come here a second.”
The little boy looked at his mother⎯she smiled and nodded. Then he tottered right into the arms of the Master and stared into His face with large sober eyes. Eyes that revealed the bottom.
Andrew coughed; Nathaniel stroked his beard. The little boy gazed at them, completely unaware of all those things such as the kingdom of heaven and jealousy and fear and competition and…
The grass waved; locusts droned their monotonous tradition. The Master squeezed the little fellow again and set him down to go back to his mother who stood to one side, watching as only a mother can watch.
The Master stood and brushed off some dust. And the big men hung their heads, because somehow…somehow they knew the answer. Before He opened his mouth, they knew what He would say.
“The mob went along with the Sadducees and Pharisees, the philosophers and the moralists. It went along with the imperial magistrates and the sacred priests, the scribes and the soldiers, that one universal human spirit may suffer a universal condemnation, that there might be one deep, unanimous chorus of approval and harmony when Man was rejected by men.” — G.K. Chesterton
Jesus of Nazareth climbs up the muddy banks of the Jordan river and sets his gaze towards the wasteland. What awaits him are wild beasts, physical and spiritual alike.
Millenia before, the first man and the mother of all living were gifted a luscious paradise to dwell in. In close proximity to their Creator and surrounded by fruit of every kind, they still fell for the lies of a hissing rebel who offered the succulent forbidden couched in terrible half-truths.
Now the Last Adam, stumbling through a parched wilderness, his body wracked with hunger pangs and mouth intolerably dry, also faces the tempter. The “angel of light” offers Jesus a dazzling package of satanic sustenance, self-willed supremacy, and frivolous fame . But this time, the serpent turns tail and slinks away, banished by the swift, clear-eyed response of the obedient Son. “Away with you Satan! For it is written…”
The Servant, mentioned repeatedly by the prophet Isaiah, wanders in the wilderness one day for every year which the rebellious generation in Moses’ day had suffered. Jesus passes the test that all before him had failed. Now angelically refreshed and full of the Spirit, the Son of God turns back towards Galilee to begin a mission.
Operation The Kingdom of Heaven Is Here commences with the calling of His disciples- a ragtag group of fishermen, zealots, a tax collector, and otherwise.
He opens the scroll of Isaiah in the little hometown synagogue and declares his mission before bewildered, soon to be enraged keepers of the law who are incensed by the gall of this son of Joseph “whose mother and brothers we know”.
“The Spirit of the LORDisupon Me, Because He has anointed Me To preach the gospel tothepoor; He has sent Meto heal the brokenhearted, To proclaim liberty tothecaptives And recovery of sight tothe blind, Toset at liberty those who areoppressed; To proclaim the acceptable year of the LORD.”
“Today, this scripture is fulfilled in your hearing,” Jesus says. The Nazarene church-goers are confounded…then infuriated. They mob and push him to the edge of cliff with intent to kill.
Sitting here at my computer in 2026, surrounded by bookshelves filled with multiple Bible translations along with many and varied theological and historical resources, I no longer have the disdain for those people that I did as a youth. Instead, I am humbled and grateful that I have been given the perspective that enables my belief. Would I react any differently to a homeboy with messianic hallucinations?
Outside of his boyhood stomping grounds, the working-class crowds amass around Jesus, astonished at his teaching and stupefied by his miracles. The water turns to wine, the basket of bread and fish multiplies, the storm domesticated, the lame jump for joy, the leper loses his spots, the blind sees the sunrise, the deaf hears his name for the very first time.
And the dead are raised to life.
Physics and chemistry are turned on their heads . Meteorology and medicine are bent to His will. The One who created water now walks upon it with ease.
But the crowds begin to thin when confronted with the hardness of his teachings.
Being saturated from little up in the goodness of Christian doctrine and tradition can numb us to the jarring character which the four gospel writers portray. There is a tendency in each one of us, I believe, to mold us a Christ in our own image; to overtly emphasize a particular statement or action of the Lord, while smoothing over the parts of him that feel too scandalous.
There is a tendency in each one of us, I believe, to mold us a Christ in our own image
Jesus breaks all molds. He challenges all sentiments. The same man who tenderly cradles the young children and blesses them, also braids a whip in righteous fury, overturning tables and scattering those who prioritized commerce over consecration.
When we long for comforting platitudes, Christ delivers a scandalous line about eating his flesh and drinking his blood.
When we desire a simplistic truth capsule, He offers a perplexing parable and tells us that if we have ears, we need listen up.
When we wish to reason, to justify ourselves, to add layers of nuance upon disclaimers, Jesus deftly wipes away all ambiguity with a crisp one-liner that cannot be misinterpreted.
The greatest irony of Christ’s teaching perhaps, is that many world religions and philosophies wish to take a piece of it for themselves while rejecting the most fundamental claims that He made of himself.
C.S. Lewis states it well in his “lunatic, liar, or Lord” argument:
” Either this man was, and is, the Son of God, or else a madman or something worse. You can shut him up for a fool, you can spit at him and kill him as a demon or you can fall at his feet and call him Lord and God, but let us not come with any patronizing nonsense about his being a great human teacher. He has not left that open to us. He did not intend to. … Now it seems to me obvious that He was neither a lunatic nor a fiend: and consequently, however strange or terrifying or unlikely it may seem, I have to accept the view that He was and is God.”
Back in Judea, somewhere around 30 A.D. the carpenter from Galilee had the very effect upon his listeners which Lewis describes. Jesus’ earthly ministry culminates in bitter betrayal, late night arrest, indictment of blasphemy, and a death sentence.
And so, we find ourselves at a very dark place indeed, gathered around a gruesome crucifixion scene on a hill outside Jerusalem. Here convene those that love Him as Savior and friend with those who hate Him as a blasphemer and rabble-rouser. Here the sobs of mourners mix with the taunts of gloaters.
Now let us focus upon a certain oddity which plays out near the foot of the cross.
The Suffering Servant, stripped naked, gasping for breath and bleeding out, cries out in agony and forgiveness. Just a stone’s throw away, a team of calloused Roman executioners passes away the time with a game of dice. The prize- His robe.
The great empire is at peak strength, its iron grip extending to all parts of the known world. These men from the local garrison could have been Italian or they may have been auxiliaries from any part of the conquered empire: Greek, Persian, Armenian, Thracian, etc. Together they divide His garments with the swipe of a dagger.
I see in this a greater story, one that continues on throughout history. For it seems that many world religions are gathered around the cross even today. They divide his garments- each one eager to claim their part of Christ, yet each one loathe to accept His all-encompassing claims.
Judaism is there in that group, recognizing Jesus as a historical figure, howbeit, just an ordinary one. Judaism is present to insure that the crucifixion job gets done right. Yes, Jesus did great works, but he did so by the power of Beelzebub. Blasphemy is punishable by death.
Islam crouches in very close proximity to the Suffering Servant. This one accepts that Jesus was born by miraculous conception, and supported by divine miracles. A great prophet was he indeed! But Islam keeps his back turned towards cross…and even today declares with fury “he wasn’t crucified!”
Buddhism wants its share of Christ’s garments too. We are similar, in many ways, he purports, both striving for love, compassion, and peace in suffering. Jesus is another Buddha, one who has reached the pinnacle of enlightenment. And we all can achieve the same.
Hinduism doesn’t want to be left out either. Jesus is a “holy teacher”, a yogi, an avatar of the divine- a paragon of divine love and non-violence. Jesus should be respected as a holy martyr.
New-Age and Universalism has even found a spot in that group of soldiers. Jesus was “Christ”…but so are we. He was an enlightened Master- one to be admired and emulated. He had achieved “oneness”- a state of consciousness that can be reached by us if we open ourselves to it. Yes, Jesus was a way to God, but so too are all other paths..
Yet all of these religions fail to fully address the epic and exclusive claims that Jesus made.
“Before Abraham was, I am.”
“I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life.”
“No man comes to the Father except through me.”
Jesus Christ is not some modular genie who can be reimagined and rearranged to fit our own perceived notions and whims. Those who huddle by the cross in close proximity, dividing his garments would like to fit him into their worldview. But Christ can’t be divided. Rejecting any part, they have rejected him in whole.
That terrible and wonderful Friday draws to a close. The bruised body of the Suffering Servant is taken down from the cross and prepared for burial.
Spices. Graveclothes. A tomb. A large stone.
It’s over. Jesus of Nazareth is dead at thirty-three. And that is where his story should end. Natural law demands it.
Yet, the seekers, the followers, those that have come to love him dearly, will find themselves drawn towards the tomb on an early Sunday morning with hearts battered yet sheltering the tiniest spark of hope.
The third phase of Christ’s revelation allows no middle ground. It’s the most wonderful story you’ve ever heard.
If you dare to believe it.
To be continued.
To read the introduction and Part 1 of the series “Which Jesus do you worship” click the links below.
Sometimes, when I want to feel smaller than I already do, I walk outside to the night sky and look up.
First, my eyes are distracted by the steady-moving unblinking low-orbit satellites that constantly crisscross our modern skies. Yeah, Elon, you’re pretty impressive! Mankind has taken some giant leaps, indeed.
But I’m looking for something better.
I’m reaching for the stars tonight. Their tiny points of light above me wink back at my smallness. Any random part of the night sky I gaze upon are myriads of swirling worlds, billions of light-years away. (or so, they tell me). Vast galaxies and suns that dwarf our own.
I scan the horizons, which are hemmed in by hills and houses and polluted by nearby city lights in my part of the world, But I can picture in my mind our blue-green planet spinning in space. Zooming out from my own perspective, I can see my small form rapidly lost in the darkness, and the horizons being quickly expanded into the curvature of our terrestrial ball.
The yellow blinking gridwork of human infrastructure appears as a bit of glitter sprinkled over a dark canvas. Soon earth itself is just a speck as we move outward at a speed much faster than light (for to travel at such a plodding pace would require too much time for my little mental exercise).
Now I have escaped the little playground of our solar system and wave goodbye to Pluto (poor little ex-planet) as I dodge through the protecting Ort Cloud and make a beeline to our nearest star, Proxima Centauri, just over 25 trillion miles away.
Then on I travel until our Milky Way galaxy looks like a little toy pinwheel thrown carelessly from a child’s hand. Next destination is its nearest Galactic neighbor, Andromeda. They tell me that travelling at the speed of light,(which is impossibly fast in reality…just ask a certain wild-haired German physicist) would take us 2.5 million years to reach Andromeda. But I’ve already arrived and am still hurtling onward. From here, the Milky Way would be just a very hazy smudge to the untrained alien eye. It’s suns, our solar system, and beautiful little earth would be invisible.
From here I see billions of galaxies, each teeming with billions of stars and shrouded in secrets. From here, giant supernova sparkle, and colorful nebulae tower upward through incomprehensible dimensions. From here, black holes loom ominously- even light rays shuddering at the thought of entering those gaping dark doors.
Although I’ve barely crossed the threshold of my dwelling for a proper tour of the universe, I’m ready to call it a day. I feel quite small. Actually- incredibly and distressingly insignificant.
When I consider the heavens, the work of Your fingers, the moon and the stars which you have ordained- What is man that your are mindful of him, and the son of man that you visit him? (Psalm 8)
Me too, David. Me too!
Over three thousand years ago, the son of Jesse was lying on his back staring at the night sky, feeling small. When did he write this psalm? Was it on a dark hillside on the outskirts of Bethlehem with his dad’s sheep? Was it a moonless wilderness midnight, as a hunted fugitive, surrounded by his snoring group of 400 ruffians? Or was it later in life as king, at peace in Jerusalem, gazing from his rooftop palace vista?
We moderns are often guilty of “chronological snobbery”; looking down our noses at the ignorant ancients who knew nothing of rotating planets, ort clouds, and swirling galaxies. Or did they?
I expect the night sky in 1,000 B.C. declared the glory of God’s handiwork far louder than my polluted view does today. Whatever the case, David knew enough to know that he didn’t know much at all. What’s important however, is that David turned his feelings of smallness into the largeness of praise. He worshiped.
What’s important however, is that David turned his feelings of smallness into the largeness of praise.
O Lord, our Lord! How excellent is Your name in all the earth!
A few nights ago, after being awakened in the wee hours of the morning by our two-year old climbing into bed with us, I struggled to fall back to sleep. I sipped a bit of water from our nightstand and glanced out the window. I caught my favorite constellation, the mighty Orion, resting on his side upon the Blue Ridge mountains in the east.
Lying down again, my mind fired up a rowdy pinball game, gleefully bouncing around tomorrow’s impending conversations, stress and responsibilities. Deep sleep evaded me.
For some reason, in that strange transitory period between wakefulness and slumber, I suddenly wondered what God’s conversation with a modern-day Job would sound like.
You see, Job got grilled. Big time. God spoke out of the chaos and talked directly to him, which is kind of a big deal on its own merit, if you know what I mean.
But instead of answering Job’s desperate pleas for somebody to make some sense of his suffering, God instead took him on a virtual tour of the universe, peppering him with unanswerable questions.
“Who is this who darkens counsel by words without knowledge?” God asks. In everyday terms: Who are you to question My wisdom and authority with ignorant words?
Prepare yourself like a man and answer! Gird your loins, Job. Buckle up!
Many of the questions God asked Job still cannot be answered today:
Where were you when I laid the foundations of the earth? Have the gates of death been revealed to you? Can you bind the bind the cluster of Pleiades or loose the belt of Orion? Can you lift up your voice to the clouds that an abundance of water may cover you? Have you given the horse strength? Does the hawk fly by your wisdom?
Job: [crickets]
But one could argue that some of the questions asked by God, would have a ready answer from today’s enlightened intellectuals. For example:
Have you entered the springs of the sea, or have you walked in search of the depths? Have you comprehended the breadth of the earth? Have you entered the treasury of the snow, or have you seen the treasury of the hail? Do you know when the time when the wild goats and deer bear young? Can you number the months they fulfill?
Well, yes. Mankind has spent thousands of years accumulating vast knowledge of science. Our insatiable curiosity of how our universe functions, backed by the deep gnawing questions of meaning and purpose drive us to observe, research, calculate and theorize to this day.
But under every turned rock of scientific discovery is a horde of creepy crawly questions that we just can’t seem to stamp out.
Under every turned rock of scientific discovery is a horde of creepy crawly questions that we just can’t seem to stamp out.
In fact, I would argue there is direct correlation between our gained knowledge and the awareness of how much we don’t know. The more you learn, the smaller you become.
And so, the other night at 4 AM, I pictured a long line of the Enlightenment’s brightest minds, secular and religious alike, being questioned by Almighty God.
Prepare yourself like a man; I will question you, and you shall answer Me.
Congratulations, Sir Isaac Newton! I heard an apple fell on your head and got you thinking. You’ve discovered the law of gravity. Now tell me- how does gravity actually work…and from where did it come from?
[Silence]
Mr. Einstein, step right up! I’ve heard a lot about you, and I’m expecting some brilliant answers. E=mc2. Pretty impressive! Now tell me- what is this stuff called dark matter, that “invisible glue” that holds together the galaxies? And the dark energy, that is instrumental in acceleration the expansion of the universe? Where did it come from? Where you there to help me fashion it?
[Shrugs]
Mr. Watson and Mr. Crick, it’s your turn. You’ve figured out that the cell is slightly more complex than the “microscopic lump of jelly-like substance” that your forefathers ascribed it to be. You’ve discovered the double-helix coil of deoxyribonucleic acid. DNA! Excellent! Now tell me- where were you when I designed this biological replicating marvel? Can you explain how such a fined-tuned, intricate system can begin? Put on your big boy pants and answer me!
[Shifts feet]
Francis Collins! You headed up the Human Genome project and successfully mapped it entirely. You discovered the longest word known to man; 3 billion letters of coded information embedded within each DNA cell of every person who has ever lived. Each one a complete instruction manual to the function and development of human life. Were you there when I wrote the code of all living things? Tell me- can you speak life into existence from inorganic and inanimate substances?
[Bows head]
We’ll stop there, but the list could go on and on. All of the brilliant men mentioned were instrumental in world-changing scientific discoveries. Their religious views ranged from atheist to deist to Christian. One thing is sure: their discoveries didn’t answer all our questions. If anything, they’ve uncovered many more.
I once heard the late, sharp-witted atheist Christopher Hitchens talking about a conversation he had once with his own child, who wondered how the “Big Bang” started. His answer went something like this.
“Picture everything that ever was and ever will be in the universe…picture all matter and all energy compressed into a small, black travel suitcase. And it’s about to burst open. That’s what happened in the Big Bang”
Of course his child had a comeback ready: “What was outside the suitcase?”
Hitchens gave a rare chuckle when recalling this interaction. He accurately observed that our “poverty-stricken vocabulary and poverty-stricken capacity” succumbs to the most basic analogies to describe things that we were never meant to understand. He consoled himself that he didn’t think any other parent has ever had a better answer than his, though.
Hitchens clung to his little black suitcase until his dying breath. I’ll stick with an unfathomable God.
Hitchens clung to his little black suitcase until his dying breath. I’ll stick with an unfathomable God.
The voice from the whirlwind ceased, and Job cautiously raised his head.
"Behold, I am vile; What shall I answer You? I lay my hand over my mouth. Once I have spoken, but I will not answer; Yes, twice, but I will proceed no further" I know that You can do everything, and that no purpose of Yours can be withheld from You Therefore I uttered what I did not understand, Things too wonderful for me, which I did not know. I have heard You by the hearing of the ear, but now my eye sees You. Therefore I abhor myself, and repent in dust and ashes." (Job 40 and 42)
Examining the four-phase progressive revelation of the Messiah.
There is a figure of a man who stands against the backdrop of human history, a man whose imprint on civilization dwarfs that of any and all emperors, prophets, sages and philosophers. He is the God-Man, in whom all fullness dwells. This man has been given many names, but we shall call Him the name which the angel Gabriel instructed the young virgin Mary to give her son–Jesus. Jesus of Nazareth.
It was a common name given to Jewish boys in 1st century Judea and Galilee. “Yeshua”–God is Salvation! But this time, the name would not only be a statement of hope; a harbinger of the promised future salvation–this Jesus, would actually bear the full weight and implication of the name’s meaning. This Jesus was himself salvation. He was given a name, which is above all names, that at the name of Jesus every knee will someday bow and every tongue will confess that Jesus Christ is Lord.
It has occurred to me that there seems to be a direct correlation between these “phases of revelation” of Jesus Christ as recorded in the New Testament and the extent to which humanity believes and follows Him. As the fullness of Christ becomes progressively revealed to our understanding, the road begins to narrow…and the thronging crowds begin to thin.
Rejoicing in a harmless baby Prince who brings peace to the earth– yeah, we’re all in!
Appreciating some hand-picked teachings of the Good Teacher and applying them to our lives– even pagan religions incorporate Him into their belief systems. Accepting that He was crucified for our sins? This is a whole different matter indeed, but still, many are willing to embrace Him.
Believing and confessing that Jesus was bodily raised from the dead– now, the ‘enlightened’ materialist scoffs and turns away. The Man who appeared through closed doors to his disciples to assign them with delivering Good News to the nations- the cultured critic sneers.
Regarding the ascended Lord, who disappeared from His disciples’ view and now sits in stunning glory at the right hand of the Most High; the same Jesus who will return, saddled and ready, with sword in hand and fire in his eyes to judge the earth– now even more shrink away from that startling, all-encompassing vision of the Christ.
Yet, it is important that any seeker of truth recognize that it is impossible to truly accept any one of these “phases” of Christ’s revelation without accepting the whole. And likewise, rejecting the one, they have rejected Him totally.
Jesus Christ is not some modular genie who can be reimagined and rearranged to fit our own perceived notions and whims. The swaddled baby in the manger is indeed the enthroned and returning King. The teacher, the servant, the healer, the crucified one is indeed the same One who burst the bands of death and became the first fruits of all those who have slept.
Which Jesus do you worship? It is, of course, a rhetorical question. There is but one Jesus Christ. In Him and through Him, all things consist. The “four phases” which I find in the scriptures are progressive, cumulative layers revealed to our feeble time-constrained, earth-bound intellects. He was. He Is. He will always be.
We shall now delve into these four “phases” of Christ’s revelation under the following titles: The Holy Child, the Suffering Servant, The Resurrected Lord, the Returning King.
Coming soon is the first installment in this series.
Young Again 