Sometimes people will say, “Pastor, I want to tell you something but you have to promise not to tell anyone.” Or maybe your kids will say to you, “Dad, I want to ask you for something but you have to say yes”. Another like it is, “I want to tell you something but you have to promise not to be mad.”
Well it’s hard to make such a promise before you know what you’re agreeing to. The asker maybe is trying to soften the blow a bit, or prime the pump to test how generous or patient you are feeling. In any case, that’s what James and John seem to do with the request they bring to Jesus. There’s the request before the request, the question before the question, “Teacher, we want you to do for us whatever it is we ask of you.”
This suggests that they knew their request was at least somewhat out of line. These disciples, after all, were prone to their own little petty squabbles and contests. We know for certain they would argue which one of them was the greatest. They would no doubt jockey for position amongst themselves in various other ways. Who gets to sit closest to Jesus. Who gets to have this honor or that privilege. I’m sure there was no small bit of jealously amongst the 9 that the 3, Peter, James and John, seemed to have closer access to Jesus in certain situations.
Maybe that’s what prompted James and John to come forward with such an audacious request. Something like, “hey Jesus, obviously you seem to have a fondness for us – you took us up the mount to meet Moses and Elijah. We’re some of the first to follow you, and after all, look at all we gave up to do so. We could have been working for dad on the fishing boat. But we know, you said we’d be fishers of men. So here we are, Jesus, asking you to really just make it official. We just want a little assurance, that we really are at the top of the heap. So, when you come into your kingdom, give us the places of honor, the right and left hand, ya know? We’re on your team and we deserve to be in that inner circle, and really, you should just let everyone else know right now so there’s no big fight about it later. We’re looking out for you after all, Jesus. What do you think?”
And what must he have thought! At your right hand and your left hand in your glory. They were thinking thrones! Jesus was thinking crosses. They were thinking glory as the world knows glory – with pomp and circumstance, power and privilege, honor and might. Jesus knows his true glory is in suffering. His honor is in dishonor. His throne is a cross, his crown: thorns, his royal robes a naked shame, and his kingly work is to die.
You don’t know what you’re asking, fellas. Do you really want to die with me? Jesus knows the disciples will scatter when he is stricken. Jesus knows that they won’t be joining him in this task, this phase of his ministry. They followed him from Galilee, they learned at his feet, they even went out on his behalf preaching and healing, casting out demons. But this task – suffer and die for the sins of the world – this cup, he alone could drink. This baptism of suffering and death for the redemption of all – only the God-man could undergo. This sacrifice, only he would, only he could make.
And not only that, Jesus knew this was all planned out. It was all prepared. Indeed, the Lamb was slain from the foundation of the world. So the spots of honor, if you could call them that, on his right or left, were reserved for two thieves who would die at his sides. One mocking, the other repentant, but that’s a story for another day. Let’s stay with James and John for now.
“You don’t know what you’re asking,” Jesus says. And here we are so often like James and John.
We think we’re up to the task. We think we have the strength, the capacity, the wherewithal, to do what needs to be done – whatever it is in his kingdom. But we forget that he’s the one with the plan. He’s the one to do what is needed. And we are the passive recipients of his glorious salvation.
Sin gets it wrong both ways. We underestimate our evil and overestimate our good. We are blind to how blind we are, and our proud heart thinks too much of itself. One look at the cross should foil all of that mischief. There at the cross we see the price, the true price of our sins. The perfect, spotless Lamb of God despised by men and forsaken by God. There we see the impotence of our own devices as Christ does it all, and far better and more than we ever could, he gives everything for us, down to the last drop of his holy, precious, blood. How can our pride stand before the cross? How can we hope to offer anything so valuable, so precious, so divine?
No, you don’t know what you’re asking. But Jesus does know. And he’s got the plan. This is his divine purpose, his holy mission, his death, his cross, for your salvation.
But there’s another sense in which Jesus answers their request positively. There’s another way in which they will share his cup of suffering, and will be baptized with his baptism. A pastor friend of mine put it this way:
Are you able to be baptized in a baptism like his? Yes. And I tell you, you were. “Do you not know that all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death? We were buried therefore with him by baptism into death, in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might walk in newness of life” (Romans 6:3–4 ESV). You have been baptized into Jesus’ blood. His blood cleanses you from all unrighteousness. His blood covers all of your sin. His death has paid your ransom. You are free from sin and death.
The death he suffered you have participated in. You received his death. You died to sin with him. You drank the cup he drank. His death is now your death. In baptism you have been put to death to sin. Likewise, you have been raised to life in him. His death is your death, which means his life is now your life. You have eternal life!
There’s a little epilogue to this, and it begins when the other disciples hear about James and John’s request. They become indignant. They are offended, bent out of shape we might say. Their own pride is disturbed. “How dare they! Who do they think they are!” And each of the others must have had in mind why he, instead, deserved great honors even more.
So Jesus sets them straight, and us, also. Here’s the proper way to think. This is how my people desire to be: servants. True greatness consists not in being served, but in serving. A true Christian is far more concerned about serving and loving his neighbor, even the least of them, rather than worrying about our own station and status, our own honor and privilege.
Indeed, whoever would be first among you must be slave of all. Hard words for our sinful nature to swallow. Words that run afoul of our pride. But a joyful description of the redeemed child of God in Christ!
Christ, the greatest among us, has already become the servant of all. If you want to be like Jesus, then be like Jesus. Not in receiving honor, but in showing it to others. Not in being served, but in serving. If you want to be at his right and left hand, then be his hands of service.
No, the Gentiles are concerned with place and position, power and status. The Gentiles want to lord it over each other whatever little shred of power they can. Not so the Christian. The Christian lives to sere, just as Jesus lived to serve, even to death, to give his life as a ransom for many.
In fact it is precisely this good news itself that motivates and spurs our works of service. It is the ransom he paid that calls us to pay it forward. Only in Christ, in faith, by his Spirit, do we imitate and follow in his steps of service and love and humility.
And here’s a little something you may not have noticed. Even in the midst of instructing them “how to be” is a promise: “But it shall not be so among you.” The difference between believer and unbeliever, when it comes to works of service, lies first in the promise of Christ. You will be different from the world, because of who Christ has made you to be, and promised you will be.
So when James and John came to Jesus with “the big ask”, looking for power, privilege and position – he rather points them to his own position of service, and to his baptism and cup, that is to say, his cross. One day, they would come to understand what they were asking. And one day, they would even come to share in that suffering and death in a new way they had never imagined. They would suffer for his sake, bear all manner of persecution, and die as his martyrs, not for honor and glory for themselves, but in humble faith and service.
God grant such an end to us all. A faithful end, a peaceful end, trusting in Christ. And until then a life full of service to others, all for the sake of him, the Ransom, the servant of all.
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