Questions
Read Luke 20.
Have you ever been told, "You've got an answer for everything"? (No, of course I never heard that myself. What do you mean?) I wonder if anyone wanted to say that to Jesus, because in this chapter, he's getting questions from all sides and he really does have an answer for everything. Or he has a response. Jesus actually answers very few questions directly.
It's the final week—Passover week in Jerusalem. Because of the holiday, there are lots of people around and lots of religious officials in particular. Even with all the important activities of Passover week going on, Jesus seems to be the focus of many people—especially those religious leaders. What is he up to? What will he try? What is he teaching? Is he dangerous?
Attempting to walk a tightrope between their fear of the people and their protection of their perceived orthodoxy, the religious leaders quiz Jesus on various topics. Where is your authority from? Should we pay the Roman tax (that question is particularly loaded for a whole lot of reasons)? What do you think about this ridiculously complex story we came up with last night about the supposed afterlife (asked by people who don't believe in the afterlife)? Question after question—and I'm fairly certain Luke only gives us a few representative questions. If we knew everything Jesus was hit with during the first half of this week, we probably wouldn't believe it.
Questions aren't bad. Questions are how we learn things. Questions are how some of our most important advances have been made in culture, technology, science and so on. It's not even bad/wrong/inappropriate to ask God questions. In fact, we should ask God questions! I know in some corners of the Christian world, we're told that questions are a sign of doubt or disbelief, but that's simply not true. Questions are a sign that we're using the mind God gave us to explore the world He made. There's nothing wrong with asking questions.
What can be wrong, and the problem here in this chapter, is the motive with which questions might be asked. The religious leaders didn't really want an answer. They wanted to trap Jesus. They wanted to trick him, to get him to say something that would condemn him. They had already decided the outcome (they wanted him dead); they just wanted him to play into their hands. In the end, it's Jesus who has the last laugh. As Luke points out, after the resurrection question, Jesus shuts them down. He answers so expertly they don't ask him any more questions (though he has a few for them).
When we question Jesus (or anyone), are we truly seeking an answer? Or are we laying some sort of trap, or making excuses for disbelief, or both?
Of course, the irony of the sort of questioning that happens here is that standing before the questioners is the answer himself. Jesus is the answer to all of our doubts, all of our longings, all of our questions.
Have you ever been told, "You've got an answer for everything"? (No, of course I never heard that myself. What do you mean?) I wonder if anyone wanted to say that to Jesus, because in this chapter, he's getting questions from all sides and he really does have an answer for everything. Or he has a response. Jesus actually answers very few questions directly.
It's the final week—Passover week in Jerusalem. Because of the holiday, there are lots of people around and lots of religious officials in particular. Even with all the important activities of Passover week going on, Jesus seems to be the focus of many people—especially those religious leaders. What is he up to? What will he try? What is he teaching? Is he dangerous?
Attempting to walk a tightrope between their fear of the people and their protection of their perceived orthodoxy, the religious leaders quiz Jesus on various topics. Where is your authority from? Should we pay the Roman tax (that question is particularly loaded for a whole lot of reasons)? What do you think about this ridiculously complex story we came up with last night about the supposed afterlife (asked by people who don't believe in the afterlife)? Question after question—and I'm fairly certain Luke only gives us a few representative questions. If we knew everything Jesus was hit with during the first half of this week, we probably wouldn't believe it.
Questions aren't bad. Questions are how we learn things. Questions are how some of our most important advances have been made in culture, technology, science and so on. It's not even bad/wrong/inappropriate to ask God questions. In fact, we should ask God questions! I know in some corners of the Christian world, we're told that questions are a sign of doubt or disbelief, but that's simply not true. Questions are a sign that we're using the mind God gave us to explore the world He made. There's nothing wrong with asking questions.
What can be wrong, and the problem here in this chapter, is the motive with which questions might be asked. The religious leaders didn't really want an answer. They wanted to trap Jesus. They wanted to trick him, to get him to say something that would condemn him. They had already decided the outcome (they wanted him dead); they just wanted him to play into their hands. In the end, it's Jesus who has the last laugh. As Luke points out, after the resurrection question, Jesus shuts them down. He answers so expertly they don't ask him any more questions (though he has a few for them).
When we question Jesus (or anyone), are we truly seeking an answer? Or are we laying some sort of trap, or making excuses for disbelief, or both?
Of course, the irony of the sort of questioning that happens here is that standing before the questioners is the answer himself. Jesus is the answer to all of our doubts, all of our longings, all of our questions.
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