17.01 | I Used to Think
Matthew 12:1-21
“He said to them, “Have you not read what David did when he was hungry, and those who were with him: how he entered the house of God and ate the bread of the Presence, which it was not lawful for him to eat nor for those who were with him, but only for the priests? …I tell you, something greater than the temple is here. And if you had known what this means, ‘I desire mercy, and not sacrifice,’ you would not have condemned the guiltless. For the Son of Man is lord of the Sabbath.”
Matthew 12:3-8
I used to think.
I used to think that Christianity was essentially about rules. Trying harder, being better, doing less bad things and doing more good ones.
Drink less alcohol. Don’t smoke. Don’t look at porn. Don’t have sex before marriage. Don’t swear. And don’t forget to say grace before the meal.
I used to think that the moral guidelines of the Scriptures were the point of the Scriptures.
I used to think this, partly because I’d tasted some of things that the Bible calls sin, and found that they left a bad taste in my mouth. I’d lived without the guidelines, and it wasn’t working for me. I saw that the guidelines were better than not having them.
I used to think like this.
I used to think that Sabbath was an arbitrary requirement, like not putting your elbows on the table or calling the teacher ‘Sir’ or ‘Miss’ rather than by their actual name.
This is how I used to think.
But then, Jesus.
You’ll have noticed by now that the people He collides with more than any other are the Pharisees. The Pharisees lived out a 1st Century masterclass in rule-making.
Here’s how they saw the world:
They, too, were longing for the Kingdom of God to come. The reign of God, where His peace and goodness would restore His people and lead to the blessing of the nations. Their vision was good.
But their methodology was toxic.
The Torah, they said, contained 613 rules, such as the 4th Commandment, “Remember the Sabbath day”. However, they questioned this, asking what kind of activities would include breaking Sabbath. Digging, for example, in an agrarian society, was seen as breaking Sabbath. But what, they asked themselves, about disturbing the ground in other ways? These too, they reasoned, must also be contraventions of the Sabbath code. So specific did they get with their rule-making, that even ground-disturbing activities such as spitting or writing on the ground became viewed as Sabbath-breaking. They added rule after rule after rule.
And yet, in doing all this, they missed the point.
Keeping the rules of the Sabbath was never the point. That’s arbitrary.
The actual point was the life that is released in you from a weekly practice of trusting rest. It was to inhabit the pace of heaven and the very life of God Himself. It was to root every activity of the other six days in the deep place of joyful, nourishing, life-releasing rest.
This is how Jesus thinks.
And this is how all the ‘rules’ of the Scriptures actually work.
They’re not bad. They’re better than not having them.
But, this:
They point us back to something beyond the rule.
Life. Flourishing.
Glory.
And so when His disciples ate grain on the Sabbath, were they breaking the Pharisees rules? Sure they were. But they were journeying with the Son and they were engaging in the things of life. When David ate the bread in the tent of God, was He breaking the Torah? He actually was. And yet, he knew something deeper. The Torah was there to serve the cause of life and justice and goodness, not to become the ends in and of itself.
And when Jesus is confronted with a man with the withered arm in the synagogue, does healing him contravene the code of the Pharisees? Again, yes it does. And yet, the code of God was that the purpose of the Sabbath was to release life—in all the healing, flourishing, goodness that springs out from the Kingdom of the Son. Mercy, which is a matter of the internal heart, is greater than sacrifice, which, in this instance, is a form of external religion.
This is how Jesus thinks. This is how He views you and all of your ways. Every thing you sense Him asking you not to do is because He knows it will be a kind of death to you. Everything He is inviting you to step into is an invitation intended to call you further into life.
This sounds dangerous. Outrageous. Scandalous. Surely Jesus can’t intend this kind of freedom? Surely He can’t be this good?
But He does. And He is.
He is the Lord of the Sabbath.
And all His intentions and work for you and in you,
are about the maximisation of life.
I used to think like this yesterday. What might He be inviting me into today?
Reflect:
Today:
What is He inviting you to step out of?
What is He inviting you to step into?
Pray:
Heavenly Father,
I sometimes try and avoid you,
Thinking that what I’ll get from you are rules to make my life smaller
Or a critical gaze that will just exacerbate my shame.
I suspect you may see my rather pathetic smouldering wick,
And snuff it out.
I’m such a fool!
Send your Spirit into me today,
Realign my heart to know how great and good your intentions are for me
Give me courage to step into all you ask of me
And to step out of all you turn me away from
Because your commandments are my life
In Jesus’ Name,
Lord of the Sabbath,
And my Lord,
Amen.
Old Testament:
For those also reading the Old Testament this year, your additional readings are here:
Genesis 36-37 | Psalm 10