Why do we think we are better than Jesus?
Photo by Jon Tyson on Unsplash
And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose. For those God foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the image of his Son. Romans 8:28-29
According to Romans 8, God’s purpose for our lives from the moment we were conceived is that we be conformed to the image of Jesus. It would seem logical that such a transformation would manifest itself in lives that look more and more like his. If that is God’s purpose for us, then it also ought to be our goal for our lives. And if our aim in life is to live in our world as Jesus did in his, then we should expect that our experiences with our world should be similar to those Jesus encountered. Further, the goals we set for our life, and indeed our measurement of success for how we have lived our lives should align with those of Jesus. This all may seem logical and straightforward; however, I believe too often our goals for our life are dramatically different, even directly contradictory to this alignment. Let me explain.
Most faithful followers of Jesus that I know, including the one I see in the mirror every morning, has hopes and dreams for their lives that include happiness, security, close friendships, the absence of conflict, and an abundance of the daily provisions of life. Much of our lives are driven by the pursuit of these goals. We want to follow Jesus faithfully and conform our lives to his, while at the same time living in a nice house, having financial security, surrounded by lots of good friends who think well of us, maintaining peaceful relationships, and enjoying a general sense of happiness.
So, here’s the question. If we desire that our lives be conformed to that of Jesus, why do we think that we are so much better than he was? Why do we believe that we will have such a better life than his?
Six experiences consistently defined Jesus’ life: homelessness, conflict, loss of friends, persecution, lack of financial security, and a troubled spirit. Let’s look at these briefly. First, Jesus never owned a home or secured the trappings of those things that we believe are so necessary for a stable and happy life. In a very real sense, Jesus lived homeless. He was an itinerant preacher who moved throughout the land, living through the hospitality of friends and followers who welcomed him into their home. If Jesus put no value in owning a home, furniture, cars, vacation homes, or even the simplest place he could call his own, then why do we think we can be followers of him while spending so much of our time and money acquiring these things? It doesn’t mean we sell everything and live on the street. It does mean, at least, that we hold these things loosely, don’t look to them for our happiness, and be ready to divest ourselves of them as the Holy Spirit leads.
Second, Jesus did not value the avoidance of conflict as a means of personal happiness. In fact, he pursued it. Jesus caused conflict. He challenged authority, spoke truth in the midst of deception, and willingly antagonized political and spiritual leaders. Why do we think that we can be faithful followers of Jesus, conformed to his image, while simultaneously working feverishly to avoid conflict at all costs? We may deceive ourselves into believing that somehow that aligns with what Jesus called being peacemakers, but a careful study of scripture shows that to be a red herring. Jesus spoke the truth, not desiring conflict for conflict’s sake, but intentionally aggravating the complacent and irritating the self-righteous. How does our timidity and conflict avoidance conform us to the image of Jesus?
Third, the myth of Jesus, meek and mild, loving everyone and making everyone happy is an evil distortion. Any cursory reading of scripture shows us that Jesus consistently alienated the people that were around him. It happened because he loved them enough to tell them the truth. He taught complex and troubling concepts that he knew would not be well received. John 6 records that after his teaching on what was to become the Lord’s Supper, “many of his followers turned back and no longer followed him.” He looked at his disciples and said, “so are you leaving me too?” In a response dripping with exasperation, they reply, “Where else are we going to go? You’re the only one who has words of eternal life.” Not exactly a ringing endorsement of their passionate adherence to his teachings. Yet that’s what it had come to. Jesus valued speaking truth into the souls and hearts of people over his own reputation. Jesus, to say the least, was not a people pleaser. He didn’t measure happiness or success with metrics of popularity and praise. If so, he would’ve been a dismal failure. How can we hope to be conformed to his image if we value so highly what others think of us? How do we display the image of Christ if we shrink back from every difficult conversation or remain silent when others are challenging our faith convictions? If Jesus suffered by telling the truth, why do we think we can be conformed to his image and avoid such an outcome? Why do we think we’re better than Jesus?
We can follow the same line of reasoning through to the next three. No one wants to be persecuted, but how can we possibly be conformed to the image of the Son and not experience it? If Jesus faced persecution in his day for what he taught, it is unimaginable that we can bear his image in our day, in our culture and not face the same. If we are ‘keeping below the radar’ to avoid such rejection and ridicule, how are we reflecting the image of Christ? Why should our lives as image bearers of Jesus’ be better than his?
In terms of financial security, Jesus trusted his father to be his provider and did not worry about his bank account. Jesus had no retirement funds, he instructed no ministry to build a large endowment, but he did speak out against those who hoarded money at the cost of the poor. When he taught the disciples to pray, ‘give us this day our daily bread’, he meant it. He called people into a day by day, trusting relationship and walk with our heavenly father. If we are to be conformed to his image, why is financial security in this life so important to us? We’d like to think we can do both, store up treasures on earth, yet believe that our hearts remain in heaven. Jesus said this can’t happen. So how do we be conformed to the image of the Son while vesting so such importance and security in the stuff of this world? Why do we think we’re better than Jesus?
Finally, and this is a hard one, I believe a careful study of the words and attitudes of Jesus will not render a caricature of someone who we would describe as gleeful and happy. Jesus carried a lot of burdens. He grieved over sin, he lamented over Jerusalem, he was frustrated over the slowness of his disciples to understand his words. He was angry against the legalism of the religious elite, and he was impatient with those who followed him for materialistic purposes. He spent long periods praying to the father and he suffered under the father’s will. In reading through the gospels, it is difficult if not impossible to characterize Jesus as a happy-go-lucky guy. In fact, it’s hard to imagine that obtaining happiness meant anything to him at all. Contentment? Yes. Deep-seated peace in who he was and why he was here? Absolutely. But happiness seems to have been of no value to him. What are we seeking in our own lives? How many of our daily decisions are focused on acquiring things and experiences that will make us happy? Why do we believe we can be conformed to the image of Jesus and yet experience life so differently than he did?
The question for us in all of this is not whether we can be so completely conformed, but whether we want to be. This is radical, costly stuff. It Is not for the faint of heart or the timid of spirit. It can only be done through the equally radical work of the Holy Spirit in us. That’s why the Spirit was sent to us. Are we ready for him to turn us inside out? Are we clay in his hands to be shaped into a completely new vessel for his use? Are we willing to surrender everything, to lose our life that we may find our life in the Spirit’s transforming work?
What would it look like for you to desire, to pursue, and to yearn for a life like Jesus’ with its detachment from material things, willingness to embrace conflict, expectation of suffering, freedom from the love of money and a desire for contentment over happiness as a measure of our oneness in Christ? I believe it just might be the only way to the ‘life that is truly life’ that Jesus promised us we could find in him.
