I have the privilege to be able to go to seminary and study some pretty incredible things.  What’s the point of that if I cannot share what I have learned?  So, here’s a tidbit I thought others might enjoy.

The set up: 

          I once saw a television game show that was quite simple.  Contestants were given a briefcase full of money and given an hour to hide it.  After this, they would be arrested and questioned by trained interrogators.  If interrogators could get enough information and retrieve the briefcase in 24 hours, the contestants received nothing.  If contestants could withstand the interrogation and the briefcase remained hidden the next day, then they got to keep all of the money inside.

          The only episode I watched was about two brothers.  They buried the money in a park under some bushes, and concocted a lie about giving the briefcase to a friend to tell the interrogators.  While being questioned, the older brother acted casual and relayed the story as rehearsed.  The younger brother, however, messed up a few details of the lie.  Gradually, interrogators widened the gaps of the fabricated story, and eventually they cracked the younger brother.  He divulged the location of the briefcase, and the brothers won nothing.

          For a host of reasons, early Christians experienced great scrutiny and persecution.  Many people doubted the claims that Jesus was divine and despised their faith practices.  Yet, despite such pressure the faith began to spread and grow.  The question becomes: what fueled this growth?

The cool stuff:  

          Today, many of our Christian beliefs and terms can be traced back to a handful of scholars who helped guide the Church and Christian thought in its earliest stages.  One such scholar was noted historian Eusebius whose work dates between the 4th and 5th centuries. 

          For Seminary, many of my courses require me to delve into these original texts.  What I find there is a rich perspective on Christian faith and Jesus.  In reading some of Eusebius’ work, I found an excerpt that has been incredibly enlightening and helpful for my faith.  I think perhaps it also sheds light on the question of what fueled Christian growth in spite of persecution.  Here is what he wrote:

          “But if the [the miracles of Christ] were lies invented according to a mutual agreement among [His disciples], what a wonder it is that such a number were able to keep to their agreement about their fabrication, even in the face of death, and that no coward among them ever retired from the association and made a premature repudiation of the things agreed upon; nor did they ever announce anything in contradiction to the others, bringing to light what had been put together among themselves” (Proof of the Gospel by Eusebius).

What’s the point:

          Here, Eusebius comes to the defense of Christians.  To detractors he essentially says this: “Okay, let’s say that Christianity is a sham.  The disciples made up stuff about Jesus being the Christ.  Don’t you think it’d be pretty difficult for someone to withstand torture and horrendous death all for the sake of a made up lie?  Yet, those who were closest to Jesus believed in the truth of his deity so strongly that no just one, but all of them maintained its truth until their dying breaths.  It seems pretty unlikely that one of them would not stumble or crack under the pressure or give up the lie.” 

          It reminds me of the two brothers on the game show.  They faced no real threat.  They were just playing a game.  The worst that could happen to them is that they return their lives just as they were, but they had a chance to gain a large sum of money if they could just maintain a simple lie.  In spite of this, interrogators found discrepancies in their stories and one of two men could no longer withhold the truth.  Lies tend to crumble under pressure and questioning; especially when the same lie is split between multiple parties.  Eusebius points out that it is unlikely the disciples underwent torture for something they knew or thought might be false.

Why it matters:

          In this day and age you can hardly turn on the television, open the newspaper, peruse the internet, or even go to a coffee shop without bumping into someone critiquing or doubting the Christian claim.  Sometimes, it feels as though we ought to be ashamed to admit that we are Christians, or perhaps we even experience doubts of our own.  Though certainly we are to turn to our own experiences with God at moments such as these, I find it encouraging to also have this support from a past brother in Christ.

          Eusebius’ thought points out how firmly the disciples believed in Christ.  If Jesus was just a neat guy with some unique teachings, all of them would not have continued to proclaim otherwise when facing death.  Eusebius wants to remind us that those who were closest to Jesus did not cave under scrutiny.  Was it because they were exceptional liars and had a desire to deceive everyone?  No.  It was because those who knew Jesus best believed so strongly in who he was that they knew following him was more important than their lives.

What to do with this:

          Perhaps this historical excerpt does nothing for you; if so, feel free to ignore it.  However, I find it helps me in two ways.  1) At points in my life, I have run up against questions, doubts, and uncertainties in my own faith.  Sometimes, the arguments of the world press in and it can be hard to stand firm.  At these moments, Eusebius’ words remind me that the earliest followers of Jesus—though certainly far from perfect—had one thing that kept them grounded: they knew that Jesus was the Christ.  They must have believed that to their very core to die for it; a lie would not be enough.  That encourages my faith.  2) It offers me a model to be a light for my faith.  If I truly believe in Jesus, how should that shape my life?  Is it enough to occasionally pray and in special moments include God in my life?  I don’t think so.  The disciples believed this so strongly that nothing swayed them from pursuing God and proclaiming the hope of Jesus.  Yet, sometimes we are swayed from sharing our faith because it might be a bit awkward to mention Jesus to a co-worker.  These words remind me to live my faith knowing that the truth of Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection mean a great deal more than I sometimes act like they do.  

--Zac Henderson

I have the privilege to be able to go to seminary and study some pretty incredible things.  What’s the point of that if I cannot share what I have learned?  So, here’s a tidbit I thought others might enjoy.

The set up: 

     We’re all pretty familiar with Jesus’ parable of the prodigal son (though a refresher never hurts, right?  Read Luke 15:11-32).  A son tires of waiting on his rich father to die, and does what any sensible son would do.  He says, “You know, Dad, I’d kind of rather you were dead, but since you’re not can I get all the booty you’re going to leave for me anyway?”  Obviously, this is pretty insulting. 

     However, what is really unfortunate about the request is that this father would never have had money sitting around.  As George Bailey told us in It’s a Wonderful Life , “The money's not here. Your money's in Joe's house... And in the Kennedy house, and Mrs. Macklin's house, and a hundred others.”  Only instead of Joe’s house it was a cow.  And instead of the Kennedy’s house it was a cow.  And instead of Mrs. Macklin’s house it was the wages of local workers.  And instead of a hundred other houses it was a hundred other cows.  You get the picture.  The point is that in order to fulfill the son’s request, the father would have had to sell many of his possessions and not employ as many workers.  Yet, this is exactly what the father does.  Naturally, then, the son takes the money, lavishly wastes it (thus prodigal son), and comes crawling back to his father.

The cool stuff I Learned:  

     So, at Seminary I learned about a practice called Kezazah.  This would have been familiar to the first century hearers of Jesus’ parable, but is something we miss out on because we are so far removed from that context.  Kezazah was a practice in which a community could reject a person before they came into town.  People would take their clay pots and go out in front of someone entering the town.  They would smash the pot on the ground and yell that this person was “cut-off” from the community.  It was a way to let everyone know that this person was rejected by the whole community and he or she would never again be welcome.

What’s the point:

     I grew up in Wooster, Ohio.  I remember a short period of time during which several major businesses closed up their doors and left the city for good.  People were laid off in droves, and almost everyone knew someone who had suddenly found themselves without work.  How do you think people of the city would have felt if the CEO’s of these companies came waltzing back into town a few years later?  This is probably somewhat similar to how the returning prodigal son would have been received.  His selfish request would have likely cost many people in the surrounding community their means of living.  The moment the first townsman saw the son coming I bet he shouted to his wife, “Juniper, grab our clay pots!  We have got some Kezazah-ing to do!” 

          Guess what?  The parable says that “while [the son] was still a long way off, his father saw him and felt compassion for him, and ran and embraced him and kissed him” (Luke 15:20).  The father ran to his son.  This selfish son had insulted his father in one of the worst ways possible, rent his family apart, damaged the livelihood of his father and the entire surrounding community, and had disappeared for years to frivolously lose it all.  Yet, he did not even have a chance to open his mouth  to apologize or explain himself before the father runs to him.  Why?  Undoubtedly, the father wanted to prevent the inevitable Kezazah of the angry community.  They wanted nothing to do with such a terrible person.  He ruined their lives.  So, the father disgraces himself by running in front of everyone (something that was culturally unacceptable for a man of his age and stature at this time), in order to get to his son before anyone can smash a pot and exile him from the community.

Why it matters:

     Haven’t we all asked for our inheritance?  Haven’t we all acted selfishly before God?  Perhaps we even have sins that feel too horrific to bring before God because we are certain that God would not forgive us.  We certainly would not tell others of such sins knowing that they would reject us.  What we did deserves no forgiveness.  Yet, when we turn ourselves humbly to God, God runs to us as the father does in the parable.  No matter how far gone we are, God will not let us be cut off.  All we have to do is point ourselves to God and begin to move towards God.  Society may push us away.  Sadly, even Christians reject us at times for our sins.  But God is anxious to receive us.  God runs to us to embrace us and offer forgiveness so that we cannot be cut-off.  Just as the father took the shame of the son upon himself by running, God has taken on our shame. 

What to do with this:

     I cannot speak for everyone, but this impacts me in two ways.  1) It gives a sense of relief.  I no longer need to feel burdened by my sin—no matter what it may be.  I need not fear approaching God in confession; God will run to meet me and transform my life from sin.  2) I need to learn radical forgiveness.  We are called to forgive others as we have been forgiven.  If God forgives us as the father forgave the prodigal son, then certainly I can learn to forgive those that have wronged me—no matter how undeserved that forgiveness might be.

--Zac Henderson