by Frank Viola
CHAPTER 10
YOUR CHRIST IS TOO SMALL
REVISING OUR CHIEF PURSUIT
The promise of the new covenant is thus:
I will put My laws in their mind and write them on their hearts; and I will be their God, and they shall be My people. None of them shall teach his neighbor, and none his brother, saying, “Know the LORD,” for all shall know Me, from the least of them to the greatest of them. For I will be merciful to their unrighteousness, and their sins and their lawless deeds I will remember no more. (Heb. 8:10–12 NKJV)
Note the words “all shall know Me.” This is the beating heart of God.
To know the Lord is at the heart of the gospel. Knowing the Lord is eternal life (John 17:3). It was the plea of the prophet (Hos. 6:3) and the passion of Paul’s life (Phil. 3:10). Yet how often do we hear this talked about today?
I’ll be blunt: Either you and I can know God intimately, or the gospel is a sham. One of the rewards of our Lord’s suffering is that we all shall know Him … “from the least to the greatest.”
We know God in the face of Jesus Christ. But the truth is, we can’t fully know Christ as an individual. We may only know Him fully through the new creation. That is, we know Him through His body (2 Cor. 5:16–17).
This particular understanding changed everything for me as a young Christian. My life was revolutionized when I realized that my brothers and sisters in Christ are parts of Christ; therefore, I had to learn how to listen to my Lord through them.
I also discovered that the Lord is constantly speaking. He speaks to us inwardly, through circumstances as well as through His own people—even at times when we are unaware of it.
If this is true (and I assure you it is), then how well we know the Lord depends on how sensitive we are and how connected we are to the other parts of His body.
My Journey into Community
My journey into Christian community taught me that the Christian life, in its core essence, is living by another life. It’s living by Christ (John 6:57 KJV; Gal. 2:20; Col. 3:4). Yet it’s not simply living only by the Lord who indwells me. It’s also a matter of living by the Lord who indwells my Christian brothers and sisters.
I live by the Lord who lives in me, and I live by the Lord who lives in my fellow brethren (in whom Christ also dwells). God has designed it that way. Consequently, if we will know our Lord deeply, we must be connected to other members of His body in a concrete way. And it doesn’t hurt at all to include in that mix exposure to the great teachers of the past whom God gifted to reveal Christ to His church.
Throughout my Christian life, I’ve met believers who had their own private walks with the Lord. They never knew Christian community, yet they had an extremely strong devotional life. Every person who fit that bill was lopsided in some arena of their lives. The reason? They didn’t avail themselves of the balancing and tempering of the body.
No Christian is wired to live an individualistic Christian life. Without Christian community, we cannot grow normally in Christ. We were designed to live with other believers and receive their spiritual portion. If you doubt this, please read 1 Corinthians 12 with this possibility in mind.
The First Seeing of Christ
When we first meet the Lord, He makes Himself quite irresistible to us. He wins us over with His charm. He conquers our hearts with His unconditional love. He draws us near to Himself by His passion, and we fall in love.
If we come into a higher vision of His purpose, we get connected with other believers. We then begin to know Him with others. We pursue Christ corporately.1
But there is a danger in receiving a greater revelation of the Lord Jesus Christ, one that moves from shallow waters into the depths. It’s the peril of allowing our first seeing of Christ to shape the way we recognize Him for the rest of our lives. (Please read that sentence again.)
I’m going to make this shockingly pointed: The Lord Jesus Christ will end up coming to us in a way that makes it easy for us to reject Him.
If we are pressing on to know the Lord, He will eventually come to us in a way that makes it easy for us to ignore Him, dismiss Him, and even reject Him. I’ve watched this happen repeatedly among Christian groups that felt they had a corner on knowing the Lord.
I believe this is God’s way of keeping us humble and open, like a child.
Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today, and forever (Heb. 13:8). Do you recall the way He came into the earth?
Consider the situation. For centuries, Israel had waited for a political Messiah. They expected Him to break the yoke of Roman bondage and liberate God’s people from Roman oppression.
But how did the Messiah make His entrance into the world? He came in a way that made it easy for His own people to reject Him. He entered the planet as a frail baby, born in a feeding room for animals. The King of the universe was born as a weak human being in the ill-starred town of Bethlehem, in the midst of the stain and stench of animal manure. And His parents? A poor Jewish couple.
There He was. The promised Messiah who was expected to overthrow the mighty Roman Empire and set Israel free from Gentile oppression. A needy Nazarene born in a manger.
Ironically, none of the Bible scholars who had the Old Testament memorized and knew the prophecies about the Messiah’s coming were present at Christ’s birth. The only people who were present were those who were led to Bethlehem by revelation. All of them happened to be shepherds and pagan astrologers, not Bible scholars.
When Jesus grew up, He ate and drank in their presence and taught in their streets (Luke 13:26). Yet they didn’t recognize who He was. He was unassumingly modest, of humble origin. A mere craftsman, the son of a craftsman.
He grew up in the despised city of Nazareth, fraternizing with the despised and oppressed. But more startling, He befriended sinners (Luke 7:34). As such, the people of God didn’t recognize Him. Why? Because He came in a way that made it easy for them to reject Him.
And what about the disciples? Read the story again. Jesus continued to break out of their expectations. He couldn’t be pinned down, figured out, or boxed in. The Twelve were constantly confounded by Him. His teachings were offensive. His actions scandalous. His reactions baffling.
But the greatest offense of all was the cross. It offended everyone—both Jew and Gentile. The only crown the promised Messiah-King would accept was a crown of thorns. Look at Him again. A suffering Messiah, a defeated King. Boy, it’s easy to reject Him.
One of the Lord’s most faithful disciples teaches us this principle well. Mary Magdalene was the first person to see the resurrected Christ. Do you remember what she did as soon as she recognized Him? She grabbed Him, and she wouldn’t stop clinging to Him.
Jesus responded, “Stop clinging to me” (see John 20:17).2 Why did Jesus tell Mary to stop clinging to Him? Because He had somewhere to go. He was on the move. Jesus was poised to go to Galilee to see the other disciples and then to ascend to His Father.
Note the principle: He was moving forward, but she was clinging to Him.
Jesus was in effect saying to her: “Mary, stop holding on to Me. There’s a new way to know Me that’s different from what you’ve experienced thus far. Let Me go, for I must move on.”
A Vanishing God
Do you remember the disciples who walked on the road to Emmaus? Their hopes were shattered by the Lord’s horrible death. Suddenly, the resurrected Christ began walking beside them, yet their eyes were blinded from recognizing Him.
However, when He engaged in the very simple gesture of breaking bread (something He had done frequently before them), their eyes were opened.
He then quickly disappeared from their sight.
These stories hold a critical insight. You cannot cling to the Christ you know today. He will vanish from your midst. Jesus Christ is an elusive Lover. Seeking Him is a progressive e
ngagement that never ends. He doesn’t dance to our music. He doesn’t sing to our tune.
Perhaps He will in the beginning when He woos us to Himself, but that season will eventually end. And just when you think you’ve laid hold of Him, He will slip out of your grasp. He will appear to you as a stranger. But upon second glance, we’ll soon discover that He’s no stranger at all. Emmaus will be repeated.
We all wish to cling to the Lord that we know now. We all wish to hold on to the Christ that has been revealed to us today. But mark my words: He will come to us in a way that we do not expect—through people who we’re prone to ignore and inclined to write off.
Perhaps they don’t talk our religious language. Perhaps they aren’t theologically sophisticated. Perhaps they don’t use our vocabulary. Perhaps they don’t share our jargon or parrot our religious idioms.
And so we cling fast to the Lord that we recognize—receiving only those who talk our language, use our jargon, and employ our catchphrases—and all along we end up turning the Lord Jesus Christ away.
I have watched this happen repeatedly. Both among Christians who gather in traditional churches as well as among those who gather outside of them.
What, then, does our Lord do when we fail to receive Him when He comes to us in an unexpected way? He moves on. And the revelation that we have of Him ceases to grow.
I’ve seen churches and movements stop dead in the water, living off a revelation of Christ that was delivered to them twenty or thirty years ago. And they never moved beyond it.
In fact, this is the very root of denominationalism and Christian movements. It works like this: A group of Christians sees an important aspect of Christ. That insight usually comes from a servant of the Lord whom God has raised up to restore a certain truth to His church. The group is captured by it. Even changed by it. And they stand on the earth to promote and express it.
But then, subtly, they build a circle around it. And then a castle and a wall. They then enshrine it. And when someone else comes in contact with them with another aspect of Christ to share, they blow it off with monumental disinterest.
Why? Because it’s different from the original sighting of the Lord that they received.
In effect, the group refuses to have complete fellowship with other Christians who are not like them.
Please don’t misunderstand. Fellowship is not having a meal with somebody. Fellowship is mutual participation and exchange. It’s a two-way street. If you and I have fellowship, that means that I receive what the Lord has given you and that you receive what the Lord has given me. And we are both enriched. That’s fellowship.
Allow me to confess: If I only fellowshipped with those whose beliefs matched mine, then, right now, I couldn’t have fellowship with myself fifteen years ago! Furthermore, twenty years ago I would have had to excommunicate my current self from the kingdom of God!
Jesus Christ is richer, larger, and more glorious than any of us could ever imagine. And He comes to us in ways that make it tempting to reject Him.
When Peter, James, and John saw the transfigured Lord on the holy mountain, Peter wanted to build a tabernacle for Jesus, Moses, and Elijah and remain on the mountain to enjoy the encounter. But God would not allow it (Matt. 17:1–13).
There is something in our fallen nature that, like Peter, wishes to build a monument around a spiritual encounter with God and remain there. But the Lord will not have it. He will always break free from our frail attempts to pin Him down, box Him up, and hold Him in place. And He does so by coming to us in new and unexpected ways.
Fearing Diversity
Many Christians fear diversity. We all love unity, but we tend toward uniformity. This tendency is most clearly seen in denominationalism. But it exists vibrantly outside of denominational lines as well.
Diversity, however, is part of the nature of the body of Christ. It’s also woven into the universe. Look at creation. Look at your physical body. Look at the eternal Trinity who brought both into existence. What do you find? Particularity with unity. Diversity with harmony.
Point: Diversity is a sign of fullness. Therefore, diversity should be embraced and not feared or rejected. Yet few things so test the human heart as does diversity.
(Obviously, I’m not suggesting that we embrace heretical ideas about Jesus Christ. I’m rather speaking about genuine Christian fellowship that is based on the New Testament revelation of Christ and echoed in the ancient creeds.)
In my early years as a Christian, some of the brothers in my fellowship held to a teaching that made “exercising faith” the central emphasis of the gospel. Their zeal for “living by faith” was not hidden by any means. It was proclaimed quite loudly. These brothers sought to persuade everyone else in the church to embrace their emphasis. And they were unhappy with any other insight or emphasis that didn’t directly relate to theirs.
These men had made their particular insight into “faith” the whole ball of wax. And they wanted everyone else to conform to it. It was during those days that I learned that zealously emphasizing any particular truth, no matter how valid, and trying to persuade everyone else to embrace it was a money-back guarantee for a church split.
If I feel that the Lord has given me a particular insight into an important truth, I should not try to coerce everyone else to embrace it with the same passion that I do. A church should be free in this matter. Every believer is at liberty to embrace and share his or her understanding of Christ. However, a church will only grow properly when its members learn how to incorporate one another’s insights into their overall understanding of the Lord.
Until our Lord returns, we will all continue to “see in a mirror, darkly” (1 Cor. 13:12 ASV). Consequently, a church ought to learn the fine art of weaving together the varied experiences and insights that each member brings to it. Those experiences and insights will be diverse. But they are what make up the body of Christ. And as long as they don’t take away from the gospel or depart from the biblical revelation of Christ, they ought to be embraced.
Sometimes these experiences and insights will constitute a paradox. That is, they will appear to stand in contradiction to one another. For instance, some in the church may emphasize the sovereignty of God in all things. They will remind the church that all difficulties that come into our lives have first passed through the loving hands of God before they got to us. Therefore, they are for our good, and we ought to “submit to God” in them (James 4:7a; see also Rom. 8:28).
Others may emphasize that we are in a spiritual warfare and that we have an enemy who will attack us through the circumstances of life. In such cases, the Lord wishes for us to “resist the devil” so that he will flee from us (James 4:7b; see also 1 Peter 5:8–9).
So on the one hand, we should submit. But on the other, we should resist. Both are true. And both must be held in tension.
Throughout the years, I have come to see that the great bulk of divine truth is paradoxical. For this reason, I have learned to live in the presence of mystery, paradox, and spiritual contradiction. So much so that I can take a nap in the face of it.
Jesus Christ can be known, but He’s also a mystery. (Col. 2:2). The incarnation is the “absolute paradox,” as Kierkegaard put it. “Oh, the depth of the riches of the wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable his judgments, and his paths beyond tracing out!” (Rom. 11:33).
The Dangers of New Insight
With every new seeing of the Lord, there is the temptation to become proud of that new seeing. There seems to be a subtle arrogance that seeks to seep into the human heart when one experiences a deeper experience or understanding of Christ.
Let me be clear. There is nothing more opposite of the Spirit of Jesus Christ than the spirit of pride and arrogance. A famous saying goes like this: It’s possible to be “pure as angels and as proud as devils.” I disagree. If you’re proud, you’re no
t pure. For God resists the proud (1 Peter 5:5; James 4:6).
We find Christ in only one issue: poverty. “Blessed are the poor in spirit,” were our Lord’s words (Matt. 5:3). A spirit of poverty says, “I need to know Him more. I don’t have the corner on Him. I am a child in this business. I’m still in school. I’m still learning. I haven’t arrived.”
Here’s a prayer worth praying. Whenever you see the Lord in a way that steals your breath, that’s the time to turn to Him and say, “Lord, let me not lose touch. Keep my feet on the ground and cause me to always remember that I am no better than any other Christian.”
For it is in times of great revelation that we need the humility of Christ the most. Recall Paul’s thorn in the flesh. God put the thorn into his life to keep his feet on the ground in the face of extraordinary spiritual revelation (2 Cor. 12:7).
I have often reflected on the church in Ephesus. Paul lived in Ephesus for three years raising up a church. By his own testimony, he proclaimed “the whole counsel of God” to the believers there (Acts 20:27 NKJV).
Paul unveiled to the Ephesian believers the vision of God’s eternal purpose for three years. He uncorked the mystery of God to them in great depths (Eph. 1—3; 6:19; Col. 1—2; 4:3).
Paul held meetings every day for five hours a day in a facility called the school of Tyrannus where he declared Christ and trained young workers.3 Timothy, Titus, and six other men were present as his apprentices. I’m sure those young apprentices ministered to the Ephesian church as well.
After Paul was imprisoned, Timothy moved to Ephesus and ministered to the church there for a number of years. Some years later, the beloved disciple John ended up in Ephesus. Apollos, who was “mighty in the Scriptures,” also spent time in Ephesus (Acts 18:24 NASB). So perhaps the church benefited from his ministry also.
Point: The church in Ephesus received the deepest and highest revelation of Christ through choice servants of God—Paul, John, Timothy, Titus, Apollos, etc. And yet, as the New Testament closes, we discover that the church in Ephesus was corrected by the Lord for leaving her first love (Rev. 2:1–4).
