The Point

In an Emergent Village panel discussion podcast, at minute 46, Tony Jones turns to Diana Butler Bass and suggests: "The point of your life is to influence the church." Diana immediately rebuts: "The point of my life is to do what God tells me to do."

Perhaps it was just the way Diana said it, but I don't think I have ever heard a clearer statement about God's will.

Some meditations on Diana's statement:

The point of my life is to do what God tells me to do.

Our lives have meaning. We are not just a collection of random walks along a meaningless pathway. Each of us has a vector and an impact on the world

The point of my life is to do what God tells me to do.

We exist as the other—independent of God. We experience free will, and are not slaves to the past. We are not driven choiceless by the forces around us. Like Christ, we have the authority to lay down our lives.

The point of my life is to do what God tells me to do.

This foreshadowing of the telling carries no direction in itself. It's the commitment to obey the command, the decision to take the step to begin the journey—without knowing the destination. 

The point of my life is to do what God tells me to do.

God doesn't ask, except for a few rhetorical questions (e.g., "Who told you that you were naked?"). Normally He tells. This telling can take many forms—from a blinding light on the road to Damascus, to tiny pebbles glancing off our consciousness. But whatever the mode it serves to illuminate a way.

But what if God provides no telling for a decision at hand? There is no drawing of a line between God's business and ours. Normally we should just follow our hearts, but listen. As Heidi a.k.a. Virushead says: "God doesn't care what we do—unless He cares."

Usually justice, kindness, and humility require no telling—they call out on their own. 

The point of my life is to do what God tells me to do.

God's direction is not about theories or corner cases. It's about existence, the moves we make in our lives—the choices, the doing. His direction is more about the event than the flow, the exception not the rule. We can make no presumption of preference—sometimes we are to follow our hearts, at times He redirects.  

Some dis-miss the point because of unbelief.  Others complain that they never hear the telling. The telling might be in Diana's and my imagination, but I am sure of one thing—that regardless of whether we are right or not about this, belief comes first—otherwise there is no point. 

What if Adam had not eaten?

She had watched the tree closely after her last conversation with the snake. The birds and other animals sought the fruit of the tree—often there were no ripe ones left. They did not die.

And the tree was beautiful, not just the forbidden fruit—how could it kill? The woman and Adam carefully avoided the fruit because of the Lord God's prohibition—but now with the prospect of wisdom she found herself drawn to it.

Life was pleasant. There was food, companionship and love with Adam, beauty to admire, and work. The days flowed easily and probably endlessly had it not been for the others.

The Lord God visited the garden often—mostly it was easy to be with him. But when he commanded, nothing else existed. She was attracted to him—in a different way than Adam. When she looked into his eyes she saw the moonless sky.

The snake was different. He wasn't like the Lord God—his eyes held slashes of darkness. She was surprised when he first spoke—none of the other creatures knew words. Even more surprising, he didn't agree with what the Lord God had said—how could that be? He talked about the tree and how its fruit would make her like the Lord God. More than anything she wanted that. As far as good and evil went, they were just names—she didn't care about them, but to be like the Lord God was a hunger that the snake kindled and it grew within her.

Adam stood by the tree with his wife. They had talked about the fruit and what the snake had said, and he was also drawn to the tree. Death was a scary thing, but they decided they needed wisdom. The woman reached out, plucked, and took a bite. She didn't die. She paused, and gave him the fruit. The commandment of the Lord God came back to him and he hesitated.

Adam looked into her eyes and he was alone again. How could he bear that? He took a bite.

The Miracle at Cana

Jesus and six of his disciples attended a wedding at Cana (John 2:1-11 ). When the feast ran out of wine his mother suggested he fix the problem. Jesus balked saying, "My hour has not yet come." Mary wasn't deterred, she instructed the servants: “Do whatever he tells you.” The wedding gained at least 120 gallons of wine—more than 50 cases worth. Some thoughts:

Mary

Mary didn’t ask Jesus for anything, she just stated the facts: “They have no wine.” Perhaps she just expected him to go out and buy some—after all he and his six extra guests helped create the shortfall. More likely Mary knew her son's capabilities and after 30 years thought he should get started.

When she spoke with her relative Elizabeth, just after Jesus was conceived, Mary quoted a phrase out of Psalm 107: “He has filled the hungry with good things.” Perhaps that day in Cana she was thinking of the phrase right before that one: “For He has satisfied the thirsty soul.” (NASB)

The water

Jesus asked the servants to fill six jars with water—this seems odd. Filling the jars took a lot of water; this was a major task for servants already tired from servicing a wine guzzling party. Instead of giving the servants extra work why didn’t Jesus fill the jars with wine and be done with it?

This preparatory task accomplished at least two things: the servants became knowledgeable witnesses, and they became part of the miracle. The servants knew more than the master of the wedding and they knew Jesus had not played some parlor trick—they hauled the water. There are exceptions, but most of Jesus’ miracles involved cooperation: donating a few fishes and loaves, reaching out to be healed, a touch, or even removing the grave clothes from Lazarus. Even when raising the dead Jesus involved others.

The wine

You wouldn’t expect Jesus to create bad wine, but did he create the best wine that ever existed? No, that would be showing off and would shift the focus away from the newlyweds. The master of the wedding said the wine was good—he didn’t say it was great.

Did Jesus “borrow” this wine from someone's inventory, or did he transform the water into wine? Transformation seems more likely. Why bother filling the jars with water if you are just going to transport in wine from somewhere else?

Those without insider knowledge drank the wine assuming it was made from grapes—grown, harvested, pressed, the juice fermented, and aged. If this wine just snapped into existence, then it was created with the appearance of age—no grapes required. Some might argue that this was a deception, but I don’t think so. There were no labels on the jars stating vineyard and vintage.

The wine told no lies. It was good, it was needed, and it was without history.

And Mary was right—Jesus’ hour had come.