Ordinary Joes, Part 13 - Matthias, Old 'What's-his-Name'

‘Part 13?’ you ask. ‘I thought there were only twelve apostles?’ Well, twelve at a time actually. For, after Judas betrayed the Lord and hanged himself, the remaining eleven determined that the right thing to do would be to replace him; to round the number of disciples back up to an even dozen; and to make sure that the ministry that Judas should have fulfilled actually went on. So Peter stood up in the midst of the group (Acts 1.15-22) and made a motion that a new apostle be selected. He had to be someone who, though not a part of the original twelve, had been (vv.21-22) following Jesus since the early days … and who, very importantly, had been an eye-witness of the resurrection.

So who would replace Judas? It is possible that there were numerous men to choose from. For Jesus’ following had always numbered more than simply the inner twelve. But the other disciples nominated a list of only two (Acts 1.23): “Joseph called Barsabbas … and Matthias.” And, after praying and casting lots, Matthias became the new twelfth apostle (Acts 1.23-26).

Pop quiz: Could you have named the 13th apostle if it weren’t written at the top of the page? Perhaps not. For Acts 1.26 is where Matthias’s story ends … after beginning just three verses prior! The Bible tells us absolutely nothing else. Not where he was from. Not his lineage. Not what he did next. Nothing except that his name began with an ‘m’ and ended with an ‘s’ … and that he had been following Jesus since almost the very beginning.

But maybe that is all we need to know. Maybe Matthias is the textbook example of an ordinary Joe. He wasn’t a leader among the earliest Christians. But he was there. He had not been selected to be among the inner twelve. But he was there. He didn’t get any fringe benefits for following Jesus. But he was there. He had no inkling that his name would ever be written in lights on somebody’s blog page! And yet he was always there, with Jesus, from the very beginning of His ministry!

Apparently Matthias followed Jesus, not because he thought he might be singled out for an important title or a memorable task, but simply because Jesus was worth it! And therefore, what an example he is to us modern Joe and Jane Schmoe’s who will never amount to anything in the world’s eyes! No one is going to remember us a hundred years from now. Maybe not even ten years from now. And that’s perfectly okay! Because we – if we are truly followers of Jesus – don’t want people to remember us, but Him! So what better disciple to learn from than the one that no one remembers!

And what about “Joseph called Barsabbas”? Remember him? He was the guy who didn’t get chosen. He was even less known than old what’s-his-name! Nobody’s writing articles about him! But do you think that he minded? Do you think he took his ball and went home because he didn’t get picked for the team? I doubt it. Because it wasn’t about Joseph ... or Matthias, or Peter, or James, or John. It was about Jesus … and it still is! “He must increase, I must decrease” (John 3.30). That is the attitude required for the 21st century disciple. That is the look of the ordinary disciple of Jesus.

So, as we close this little series of articles, let me ask you: ‘How ordinary are you?’

Ordinary Joes, Part 12 - Judas, the Betrayer

What can we say about Judas, the most infamous (but short-lived) of Jesus’ original twelve disciples? A lot actually. The New Testament gives us more insight on the betrayer than on almost any of the other eleven. So there are many avenues we can take when thinking about the sad story of the ill-fated son of Simon Iscariot. We could think about the deceitfulness of riches (John 12.1-6 and Luke 22.3ff). We could talk about Judas’s own deceitfulness (pretending to be a disciple even while he was plotting betrayal). We could even consider (as we watch Judas come apart at the emotional seams and hang himself, Matthew 27.3ff) the deranging effects of unforgiven sin and piled up guilt.

But in this brief space, I’d like to consider perhaps the greatest lesson of all to be gleaned from the life of Judas Iscariot – namely, the frightening reality of how close one can be to Jesus without ever being saved. Isn’t Judas a perfect case-study for those of us who have grown up (or are growing up) religious? Judas, like us, was at all the services. He saw the healing of deaf and lame, the blind and leprous. He probably saw Lazarus raised from the tomb. He was present at the most intimate gathering of Jesus’ disciples, the last supper (John 13). He was even the treasurer for the Nazarene Mission Society! That is, every shekel that was donated to Jesus and the disciples’ cause, and every drachma that was spent by and for the cause, passed through his fingers. He was like a deacon among the disciples!

In fact, even in his betrayal, we see how close to Jesus Judas really was. John 18.2 tells us that Judas knew Jesus so well that he was able to take the priests and Roman soldiers to exactly the spot where Jesus would likely be spending such an evening. And He was comfortable enough with Jesus to be able to walk right up and kiss Him on the cheek (a sign of ancient companionship). Humanly speaking, then, Judas knew Jesus as well, and was as comfortable with Him as almost anyone. And yet he was also His betrayer!

And the lesson is plain isn’t it? Physical or religious nearness to Jesus doesn’t always equate with love for Jesus. Service in the name Jesus doesn’t always equate with faith in the name of Jesus. For Judas was always nearby, and always serving … but for his own selfish motives. He got to skim a little money off the top (John 12). And maybe, along the way, he thought he’d get to ride the coat-tails of Jesus into fame and political clout.

Now we could point to lots of people who are ‘following Jesus’ today because they think He will make them well-to-do, or healthy, or powerful, or a better athlete, or whatever. But that’s too easy, isn’t it? So let’s dig a little deeper … and closer to home. What about the folks who are ‘following Jesus’ because it is the acceptable thing to do in their family (strike a chord, young people?)? And what about the people who are ‘following Jesus’ simply because they don’t want to burn in hell? What about those people who are at all the services … even fulfilling some servant role in the church, and yet, in their heart of hearts, they know that none of it is real?

O, how easy it is to be so close to Jesus, and yet so far away! How easy it is to be as phony as Judas was! And yet, what an opportunity you have that he has lost. You haven’t yet finished your course. Your corpse hasn’t yet decayed as his did (Acts 1.18). And your soul hasn’t yet burned in everlasting destruction. So there is yet hope! The hope of repentance! The hope that your eyes would be opened to the beauty and mercy of Jesus; and that you would begin to follow Him simply because He is worthy … not just because you’re supposed to; and not just because you’re going to get something out of it! O, to be close to Jesus in heart and soul … not just in location! That is what an ordinary disciple looks like!

Ordinary Joes, Part 11 - Simon, the Right-Winger

The eleventh in our list of the apostles of Jesus is a man by the name of Simon, the zealot. He is only mentioned four times in the New Testament (Matthew 10, Mark 3, Luke 6, and Acts 1) … and each time it is with this not-so-flattering nickname attached. Why was he called “the zealot”? Probably not because he was the most evangelistically aggressive, or most holy among the apostles. Probably not, in other words, because of his zeal for Jesus … but because of his previous zeal for the nation of Israel.

Not long after the death and resurrection of Jesus, an official political party formed in Israel … known as the Zealots.*  Really it was part political party, part militia. For their platform was complete and entire independence from Roman rule, by means of force if necessary. They were the ultimate right-wingers. Not content to work for change by means of diplomacy, prayer, civil disobedience, or example … they took to the swords – not in self-defense, mind you – but in an attempted coup against Roman authority. In fact, they eventually became a little over-zealous in their revolutionary tactics: resorting, not just to military advance, but to murder and pillage.

In the days of Jesus’ ministry (and Simon’s early discipleship), the Zealots, as an official political party, had not yet come into being. But the seeds of revolution and violence were apparently already being sown; and the term “zealot” (small ‘z’) was apparently already in use to describe men of such convictions. So it was, in all probability, for this reason that Simon was known to his fellow apostles as “the zealot.” He was defined by his involvement in political unrest. This was his background, his passion, his life’s meaning. He probably went to the secret meetings. Perhaps he carried a dagger under his belt in case it all went down. He was what would be called today a ‘crazed right-winger.’

Now, understanding that we all have different political views; admitting that, in many areas, I lean toward the right-hand side of the political aisle; and allowing for the fact that we do not know what it is like to live under a truly oppressive governmental regime … we should still stand back from men like these, I think, and wonder if they might do more harm than good. Secret meetings? Daggers? Revolution? These certainly weren’t the means that Jesus used (or uses) to free men and women from oppression! And yet, out of the midst of the weapons stock-piles, and from those secret meetings, Jesus called a man named Simon to be a part of a different kind of kingdom, and a different kind of revolution. O yes, Simon was going to turn the world upside down … but with a different kind of sword, “the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God” (Ephesians 6.17).

Tradition says that Simon took that sword all the way to the British Isles, where he was crucified for preaching Jesus.*  What a turnaround Jesus made in Simon’s life! The over-zealous Israeli nationalist dies on pagan, gentile, barbarian, foreign soil … for Jesus’ sake. So what is it that you are so zealous about? And will people, someday in the future, look back at those things and wonder if they didn’t do you more harm than good? Maybe it’s time to lay down whatever tools, or meetings, or plans, or ideals that have thus far defined you … and become zealous about Jesus, and about eternal souls.


*My information on the Zealots, and on Simon's ministry and death in Britain comes from John MacArthur's Twelve Ordinary Men, 174-178.

Ordinary Joes, Part 10 - Thaddeus, "Mamma's Boy"

Among the list of Jesus’ apostles, there were two men named James, two men named Simon, and two men named Judas – Judas Iscariot (of course), and “Judas, son of James” (Luke 6.16, Acts 1.13). Little wonder that some early Christians stopped calling the son of James “Judas” … and began referring to him, primarily, by his nickname, “Thaddeus” (Matthew 10.3, Mark 3.18). But the name “Thaddeus” was probably only slightly less embarrassing. It means, literally, “breast boy”. And John MacArthur is probably right when he suggests that, in modern parlance, Judas, the son of James’s nickname was something akin to “mamma’s boy.”

Was it his mother who called him that? Maybe his older siblings? Or was it a fairly new nickname, coined by his fellow disciples? We can’t be sure. But in any case, there had to have been a reason for it. Perhaps it was just that Thaddeus was the youngest of his sibling set (or maybe of the apostles) – the baby brother. But probably the nickname “mamma’s boy” had to do, not only with his age, but his demeanor. Maybe he had a soft manner about him. Maybe he had trouble with homesickness. Maybe the disciples had seen him doted on by a mushy and overbearing mother! Who knows? But one thing is almost certain – Thaddeus was no “son of thunder” like his friends James and John; he was no dynamic, boisterous character like Peter. He was just himself – Thaddeus, “mamma’s boy”.

And yet this “mamma’s boy” ended up as a missionary! Even in John 14.22 we see his growing interest in and desire for the salvation of “the world.” ‘Why just reveal Yourself to us, Jesus?’ he said. ‘Why not make Yourself known to the whole world?’ And that is just what Thaddeus would spend his life doing – making Jesus known to “the world.” Tradition says he took the good news as far as modern Turkey, and was eventually clubbed to death for his faith*! No small feat of bravery for a supposed softy!

Application? God uses all kinds. He can take a Peter, humble him, and smooth his forceful personality into something useful in the kingdom of God. And he can take a Thaddeus, embolden him, and send the homebody onto the mission field. And He can work with anyone in between!

So where are you on the spectrum? A little too outspoken, prideful, and self-assertive? God can humble and use you. Or are you like gentle Thaddeus – maybe afraid that you’ll never have the courage to speak to that person, or go on that trip, or make that stand? Remember Thaddeus. If Jesus can use the New Testament’s “mamma’s boy” … he can certainly use you, too!

*See John MacArthur's Twelve Ordinary Men, 180.

Ordinary Joes, Part 9 - James, the Disciple with a Pedigree

There are three famous James’s in the New Testament. First is James, the son of Zebedee, the disciple of Jesus, the brother of John, and the member of Jesus’ inner circle. Second is James, the half-brother of Jesus, the author of the epistle of James, and the influential elder in the early church of Jerusalem. And then there is “James, the Less” (Mark 15.40), or ‘little James’ as it might be literally translated. He probably preferred to be called “James, the son of Alphaeus” (as he is called, for instance, in Matthew 10, Mark 3, and Luke 6). Why ‘little James’? Maybe it was because he was short. Maybe it was because he was the younger of the two disciples named James. Or maybe (probably) it was because he was simply less influential than his namesake in the circle of disciples.

At any rate, he was known as ‘little James.’ But here is what is worth noting … little James came from a family of no little stature! Little James came from a family of great and sturdy Christian stock. For, though the gospel writers tell us absolutely nothing about James’s actions, thoughts, words, or character-traits … they tell us a good deal about his family. First, he was “the son of Alphaeus.” Big deal, right? Well, maybe and maybe not. It could be that James’s daddy’s name is evoked by Matthew, Mark, and Luke simply in order to distinguish him from the other James. But it could also be that Alphaeus’s name was dropped because the early readers knew exactly who he was – perhaps for his piety and Christian commitment. In fact, it could be that Alphaeus, the father of James, was the same Alphaeus who was also the father of Matthew (Mark 2.14). We don’t know for sure, but maybe. Maybe James the Less was also James, the brother of Matthew.

But here is what we do know for sure*: Even if James’s father wasn’t a well-known Christian (as I have wondered), his mother certainly was. In fact, when you read on in the gospel of Mark, you discover that she was one of the brave handful of souls who followed Jesus all the way to the cross (Mark 15.40). She was also one of only three who were there when He was laid in the tomb by Joseph of Arimathea (Mark 15.47). And (Mark 16.1-8), she, along with Mary Magdalene and Salome, were the very first ones to arrive on Sunday morning to care for Jesus’ entombed body … and to hear, from the angel, that He had risen. Just as there had been a set of three male disciples who were closest to Jesus … Mary, Mary, and Salome seem to have been the female version. And James’s mother was one of them! What a valiant woman! And what a pedigree James, therefore, had!

Add to that the fact that when Mary, James’s mother, is mentioned, she is usually described as the mother, not only of James, but of “Joses” or “Joseph” as well. Who was Joses? We don’t know. But again, he must have been a significant enough figure in the early church for the gospel writers to drop his name into the story without explanation. That is, the early Christians must have all known who he was quite well … presumably for good reasons. So James’s family tree seems to pepper the New Testament and early church history. One of the Alphaeus clan seems always to be popping up and loving the Lord Jesus in some way or other.

So what does James the Less have to teach us? Not much, by himself. But surely all the information about his family reminds us of the great value of a godly heritage. As a grown man (and quite likely as a young boy as well) James got to see his mother and brother(s) following the Lord, and be spurred on by it. And they, in turn, got to watch and be encouraged by him, a disciple of the Lord in their own family! And great things were accomplished in love to Jesus because of that family synergy. So, when you think of James, ask yourself: ‘Who’s watching me? My wife? My husband? My kids? And are they the better for it? If someone writes the story of my godly spouse, or child, or brother, or sister, or niece, or nephew, or co-worker … what role will I have played in that story?’


*For more on James' pedigree, see John MacArthur's Twelve Ordinary Men, 170-173.

Ordinary Joes, Part 8 - Thomas, the Disciple with the Bad Rap

Thomas has become a modern day proverb. Any time someone seems skeptical or incredulous, we are prone to call him a ‘doubting Thomas.’ Why? Well because of this apostle who, after his ministry partners had reported seeing Jesus risen from the tomb said famously: “Unless I see in His hands the imprint of the nails … I will not believe” (John 20.25). So yes, Thomas deserves the nickname. But is that all we can say about him? ‘Thomas? O, he was the disciple who didn’t believe Jesus had risen until he saw Him with his own two eyes.’ I believe that, when we think of Thomas only in terms of his doubting, we miss a couple of important points; a couple of reasons to be thankful …

First, we need to remind ourselves that the other apostles also believed because they had seen Jesus. In fact, Thomas’s infamous remark came in response to the others saying to Him (John 20.25): “We have seen the Lord!”. Imagine … if Thomas had been in the original group who saw the Lord … and, say, Peter had been the one who was on another errand that particular day … how do we know that Peter, or John, or Matthew might not have said the same thing: “Unless I see … the nail prints”? And what about us? Might we have found ourselves echoing Thomas’s doubts? Or is it that we are mighty oaks of never-doubting faith?

Don’t miss my point. Thomas definitely should have believed. He deserved the rebuke Jesus gave him (v.27). And he deserves the nickname. All I am saying is that, had you or I been in Thomas’s shoes that day, who’s to say that the proverb might not be about ‘doubting Kurt’ or ‘doubting [fill in your name here]’?

The other positive thing we can say about Thomas is: ‘Thank God he wasn’t afraid to ask questions, say what he really thought, and reveal his ignorance.’ Some of our greatest theological pillar texts come from the mouth of Jesus and as a result of Thomas’s candid, though skeptical, words. Remember John 14.6 … where Jesus said, famously: “I am the way, and the truth, and the life; no one comes to the Father but through Me.” Do you know what prompted Jesus to say that? Doubting Thomas’s candid question in verse 5: “Lord, we do not know where you are going, how do we know the way?” Thomas didn’t get it. He didn’t understand Jesus’ heavenly mission and home. But probably neither did the other disciples! So thank God Thomas opened his mouth … even if doing so did show off his ignorance. We have one of our great evangelistic texts … the classic text, in fact, on the exclusivity of Jesus … as a result of Thomas’s candor.

And what about the most famous of Thomas’s cynical remarks? “Unless I see in His hands the imprint of the nails … and put my hand into His side, I will not believe” (John 20.25). Did that waffling produce any fruit? Absolutely! For Jesus showed up not too long after Thomas’s remarks, and showed Thomas just what he had asked to see … prompting Thomas to respond (v.28): “My Lord and my God.” And why is that so important? Because Jesus, after being called “Lord” and “God”, congratulates Thomas (v.29) for believing; for getting it right. In other words, John 20.28-29 is one of the clearest examples of Jesus acknowledging His own deity. It’s one of the places we turn when trying to win over our Muslim, Jewish, and Jehovah’s Witness friends. It’s the passage to which we turn when someone says: ‘O yes, maybe Paul called Jesus God … but I don’t know that Jesus ever accepted that title for Himself. Do you see? John 20.28-29 is one of the most important texts in the Bible. And we wouldn’t have it without Thomas’s honest and open doubts back in verse 25!

So what am I saying? My encouragement is not that you be like Thomas (unless of course you are going to imitate his later life, pack up your bags, and go to India with the good news!). Please don’t doubt like Thomas. But don’t belittle him either. Thank God that he was just candid enough to speak up … and draw out of Jesus some of the truths which we, who have not seen, hold most dear.

Ordinary Joes, Part 7 - Matthew, the White Collar Criminal

Isn’t that what men like Matthew (also called Levi) would be called today? Matthew was a tax-collector. And a tax-collector’s job was, on behalf of the Roman government, to collect the appropriate taxes from the populous and pass them on to the local officials. But those officials apparently didn’t do extremely careful audits on their IRS employees, allowing men like Matthew to skim a little off the top – actually to collect, from the people, a little more than the government required, and to keep the surplus. And, while the government turned a blind eye to the dishonesty of its employees (how contemporary!) … the common folks seethed with hatred toward men like Matthew (see Luke 5.27-32). They had a sneaking suspicion they were being taken to the cleaners, but with no way of proving it, and no recourse even if they did. Such was, most likely, the case with Matthew. We are not told, in so many words, that he was a cheat. But the fact of his occupation, the attention that the gospel-writers give to it (Matthew 9, Mark 2, Luke 5), and the reaction of the bystanders to Jesus’ eating in Matthew’s house (again see Luke 5) are strong indicators that Matthew was a typical tax-collector.

Imagine how incensed you were when you read about the big-time auto executives flying their luxury jets to Washington to ask the government to hand them some of your hard earned dollars to stabilize them in their ‘plight.’ That’s how the people must have felt about fellows like Matthew. Only they didn’t hear about Matthew on Fox News with Shepherd Smith. They saw him face-to-face, and placed their hard earned shekels directly into his bejeweled hands. And on top of this, he was a Jew … working for the occupying Roman government.

Is this the man that Jesus wants to be His disciple? Is this the designer fabric from which Jesus is going to cut a bold, rough-hewn preacher who will take the good news to Egypt and Ethiopia? Are these bejeweled, money-grabbing fingers going to write the most extensive biography of the most important person in world history? Could God possibly use a self-serving, dishonest, wealthy, white collar cheat to proclaim the gospel of Jesus? Yes! And that is a good reminder for those of us who tend to look with disdain, distrust, and suspicion at the upper classes and big cheeses of our day. O, it’s easy to talk about how the rich look down upon and despise the poor. But the streams of enmity flow in both directions, don’t they? But Jesus loves both poor and rich. And He changes and uses them both for His good purposes. So let’s not sit in the position of the Pharisees … despising the Matthew’s of our own day. But rather let’s walk up to them, like Jesus, and urge them to leave everything and follow Him!

And if we’re among them (as all of us really are in this country) … let’s put ourselves in Matthew’s shoes, and get out of his seat. Let’s leave behind our riches (with the missionaries and the impoverished foreign masses) and get up and follow Jesus into a lifestyle of gospel fervor.

And let’s remember that Matthew’s dishonesty was not his only, or even his primary, sin. In fact, the dishonesty was just one foul weed that grew up from the deep roots of self-centeredness. So you need not be a cheat in order to follow in the footsteps of Matthew … just a self-centered American (or Canadian, or Brazilian, or Mongolian, etc.). Isn’t Jesus worth leaving your riches behind that you might win souls? That you might follow Him, even unto death? That’s what Matthew did, according to historians – either being run through with a spear or burned at the stake (or perhaps both).* The man who had made a career (literally) of taking and keeping ended his life giving. What about you?


*For tradition on Matthew's death, see Foxe's Book of Martyrs, and John MacArthur's Twelve Ordinary Men, 156.

Ordinary Joes, Part 6 - Nathanael, the Disciple with Two Names

OK, so really all of us have two names (at least). Mine is Kurt Strassner. Our elders are Keith Gorby and Charles Tassell. Two names … just like Nathanael. The only difference is that, sometimes, Nathanael went by last name – Bartholomew (or, son of Tholomew). You’ve probably known someone like this somewhere along the way. Maybe a guy on the high school football team that everyone just called ‘Jackson’. Or my dad’s boss. I never knew, I think, until I was almost grown, that His first name was ‘Al’ and not ‘Ragland.’ Get the idea? Well, that was Bartholomew, or Nathanael, depending on how well you knew him, I suppose.

So how well do we know Nathanael? Not all that well, actually. He is named four times (as Bartholomew) by Matthew, Mark, and Luke … but none of them tells us any more than that he was one of the twelve original disciples of Jesus. Only John puts us on a first name basis with Mr. Bartholomew … and that only briefly, in John 1.45-51.

In those few verses we learn that Nathanael was somewhat of a cynical man. His friend Philip runs up to him with excitement, hoping against hope that he has actually stumbled across the long-awaited Messiah – Jesus of Nazareth. Nathanael’s response is now famous: “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” Sounds a bit prejudiced, huh? ‘Nazareth? That backwater? Where the people love to mix two parts Bible with three parts paganism? Come on, Philip. Nothing good could come from that cesspool!’

Well, maybe it was a cesspool. But you don’t get the impression that Nathanael felt compassion on the sinners who lived there. And you don’t get the impression that He believed very deeply (as of yet) in the power of God to change them or do anything good in Nazareth. ‘That neighborhood?’ he would have said if he had lived in modern Cincinnati. ‘Can anything good come from there? In fact, if we start getting members from that ‘hood, it will probably be more of a drain on the church than a blessing. Good grief, not _______ of all places.’

Good old bigoted Nathanael. At least He was honest! I think that’s what Jesus might mean when He greets Nathanael with the words: “Behold, an Israelite indeed, in whom there is no deceit.” Some people take these words as a compliment … that Jesus knew some things about Nathanael’s character to which we are not privy. That’s possible. But given what we are told about Nathanael, I am not so sure. I think it is possible that Jesus was saying something like this to Nathanael: ‘Behold, a Jewish boy who’s not afraid to admit that he looks down on sinners.’ I think Jesus words could be the equivalent of you or I saying to a fellow church-member, with tongue in cheek (and with his best interest in mind!): ‘Behold, a Baptist who’s not afraid to admit he thinks he’s better than his neighbors!’

Now if that is what Jesus meant, we can see why Nathanael’s attitude changed so quickly. He had been humbled and humbled quickly. And don’t we all need to be humbled? Are there any Nazareth’s in your life … whether the Nazareth is a location, a race, a class, or an individual? If so, there is hope for you. Jesus burst Nathanael’s elitist bubble. And you might pray He bursts yours … and makes you like Nathanael who, after the close of the New Testament, had such a changed view of the ‘filthy pagans’ that, tradition says, he went as far as Persia, India, and Armenia preaching to them … and was tied in a sack and thrown to his death in the sea … for Jesus’ sake.*  Don’t you want to love the nations and the neighborhoods like that? Then find your own personal Nazareth … and go make sure that something good comes from it!


*See MacArthur's Twelve Ordinary Men, 147.

Ordinary Joes, Part 5 - Philip, the Blind Evangelist

There are three Philip’s in the New Testament. One was the brother of Herod, whose bed-hopping wife commissioned the beheading of John the Baptist (Mark 6.14-29). Another was one among the first seven deacons (Acts 6), and became the first New Testament evangelist to the ‘dreaded’ Samaritans (Acts 8). That, and his leading to faith of the famous Ethiopian Eunuch (also in Acts 8), earned him the nickname “Philip the Evangelist” (Acts 21.8).

But, before either of these two Philip’s appeared on the stage of the New Testament, there was already a fairly important man with the same name … one of the original twelve apostles of Jesus, and quite an evangelist in his own right – Philip, the apostle. In fact, as we tell his story, two traits stick out. His penchant for evangelism … and the sometime weakness of his faith. That’s why I call him ‘the blind evangelist.’

Philip wasn’t literally blind. But sometimes, though the power of Jesus had been manifested, again and again, before Philip’s eyes … he still couldn’t see beyond the physical plane. We reminded ourselves last week of how Andrew, when faced with the task of finding food for five-thousand people, went out and found a boy with five loaves and two fish, and brought Him to Jesus, reasoning to himself: ‘It’s ain’t much … but who knows what Jesus may do with it.’ It’s a wonderful story to review … if you’re Andrew. But go back and re-read John 6 and you will discover that it was Philip, not Andrew, who was supposed to think up a solution to the food shortage that day. But all he could come up with was: ‘Jesus, 9 months wages wouldn’t buy even a snack for all these folks.’ And while he stared blankly at the impossible circumstance, his friend was busy seeing with the eyes of faith.

Philip displayed the same spiritual astigmatism in John 14 when, after all that time with Jesus, he still didn’t realize that he had actually been hanging out with God Himself for three years (see vv.8-9). And we could be quick to criticize Philip. But isn’t our vision often just as blurry? I would be willing to bet that, this very weak, you found yourself staring at a John 6 kind of situation – some scenario in your life where there seemed to be no solution. No solution, that is, but Jesus. But instead of seeing His power and bringing him your pitiful little lunch bucket … you just stood there with a blank look on your face, and never moved forward at all. I find myself in that kind of daze all the time. And Philip gives me hope that I am not alone among the Lord’s servants.

In fact, Philip gives me hope that, in spite of my sometime lack of faith, spiritual short-sightedness, and even outright blindness … Jesus still loves me, wants me around, and intends to use me. For, even in the midst of Philip’s blundering, he was leading people to Jesus! He was, in fact, the one who led one of the other eventual apostles to Jesus (Nathanael in John 1). Not many people can say that! And he, along with Andrew, his partner in evangelism, brought a group of Gentiles to Jesus in John 12 – making them among the first non-Jews to hear the good news. In fact, Philip ended his apostolic career in much the same way as he had begun it in John 1 – bringing people in Asia Minor (or modern Turkey). Tradition says* that he was stoned there … for bringing people to Jesus.

Now be careful. I am not advocating weak faith, or blindness to the power of Christ. Not at all. I am simply acknowledging that one of the apostles struggled with exactly these things … and so do I. And yet God used him. And so, when the grace of God and the love of Jesus are at work, I conclude that, sometimes (indeed most of the time in my case) it is possible for the blind to lead the blind.


*See Foxe's Book of Martyrs.

Ordinary Joes, Part 4 – Andrew, the Facilitator

Pop Quiz. Who was the very first follower of Jesus? John, the beloved disciple? No. Peter, the preacher? You’re getting warmer. Actually the answer (as I am sure you guessed from this article’s title) is Andrew, Peter’s brother. He had apparently been attached for some while to John the Baptist (John 1.35-39). But when John proclaimed that Jesus, his cousin, was indeed “the Lamb of God” … Andrew did what each of us should do. He left off following all other teachers and began following Jesus!

Soon after, Andrew began doing what he is now famous for – bringing people to Jesus. It started (John 1.40-42) with his own brother Simon (whom Jesus re-named Peter). And we all know how much God eventually accomplished through. So imagine, for a moment, the significance of Andrew’s initial invitation to his brother: “We have found the Messiah.” How much impact did those words, from God, through Andrew’s lips, have on world history? 3,000 people, on the day of Pentecost, could have thanked Andrew for bringing his brother to Jesus. And so could untold thousands more who have benefitted from Peter’s preaching and writing … and from his likely being Mark’s main interviewee as he composed his gospel. The impact of Peter is incalculable. But it all started, humanly speaking, with his brother bringing him to Jesus!

Now if you or I brought someone of the magnitude of Peter (or Spurgeon, or Whitefield, or Wesley, or Piper) to Jesus … we could die happy, feeling we’d accomplished a life’s work. But Andrew didn’t stop bringing people to Jesus. Over in John 6, the disciples had run into a little dilemma … this one of a more temporal nature. 5,000 men hungry and isolated in the countryside. Where to get enough food, in such a remote place, for so many people? Andrew’s friend Philip surmised that it would cost 9 months’ wages to feed the whole lot of them (v.7). But Andrew wasn’t deterred. He found a boy with five loaves of bread and two fish and (you guessed it) brought him to Jesus (v.8-9)!

Now Andrew wasn’t at all sure that the boy’s food would make even a dent in the shortage (see v.9b). And we could scold him for his unbelief. But at least he brought the boy! ‘It’s not much, to be sure’ he must have thought. ‘But maybe if I can just get him to Jesus, it will all work out.’ And we need to learn to think that way. There are people all around us with problems – both physical and spiritual – that seem (to us, anyway) far too messy to ever be untangled. But maybe if we can just get them to Jesus … just maybe. Know anyone like that? And have you brought them to Jesus … in person and/or in prayer?

Andrew’s story continues in the 12th chapter of John. There Philip was approached by a group of Gentiles who (for reasons we aren’t told) wanted to meet Jesus. But, whatever the reason, Philip decided to help them out. And who did he enlist to help him in bringing these folks to Jesus? The facilitator extraordinaire – Andrew! And, when they came, Jesus preached His own sacrificial death to them … making them some of the few Gentiles to hear the gospel from the Lord’s own lips! Now unlike the other two stories, we do not know the ending to this one. What happened to those Gentiles? Did they believe or not? We’re not sure. But that’s not what is most important, really. What is important is that Andrew was faithful; that Andrew brought them; that Andrew gave them an opportunity to believe. And that is what is important for you. You cannot guarantee yourself the evangelistic success of a Peter. But you can ensure that you will be as faithful as his lesser-known brother. You cannot ensure that anyone will ever believe. But you can make sure that someone brings them to Jesus so that they have the chance! Will you do that … starting with your own children, parents, siblings, classmates, co-workers, and friends … and working your way out to the nations?

To inspire you, listen to the end of Andrew’s story. According to various historians, Andrew eventually preached in modern Russia, Ethiopia, and Greece. Eventually he was crucified for Jesus’ sake on an X-shaped cross. He hung there gasping and dying for two days … all the while urging passers-by to repent and believe. And so he died in just the same way as he had lived ... bringing people to Jesus. What about you?

Ordinary Joes, Part 3 - John Who?

Of all the twelve apostles of Jesus, perhaps we know the most about John. Like Peter and James, he was always there at the key moments. He was one of the inner circle. In fact, he seems to have been Jesus’ best earthly friend (garnering the nickname “the disciple whom Jesus loved”). And he wrote far more New Testament literature, even than Peter … giving us even deeper insights into what made him tick, and what he was like as an old man.

John was the only one of the original twelve who was not violently murdered for his faith. But that doesn’t mean he did not suffer. As an old man, he was placed in exile on a tiny, rocky island in the Mediterranean (“Patmos”, see Revelation 1.9). Think Alcatraz without the fancy prison buildings. It is possible that John died there, away from his beloved churches and virtually alone. But what a blessing that the Lord allowed him to live to such an advanced age! Because of it, we have, not only his gospel, but also 1, 2, and 3 John … and Revelation. And in those books (particularly the three letters) we begin to see very clearly that this one time “son of thunder” (Mark 3.17); this one time self-promoter (Mark 10.35-40), was now completely changed. John is often known today as ‘the apostle of love’ – and not just because He was such a close friend of Jesus, but because that friendship made him such a great lover of others.

All of the love commands that are so familiar to us … “Beloved, let us love one another” (1 John 4.7); “let us not love with word or with tongue, but with actions and in truth” (1 John 3.18); “if God so loved us, we ought to love one another” (1 John 4.11) … they all come from the quill and ink of the aged John. In fact, in his three short letters (comprising only 7 chapters and 133 verses), he uses either the noun or verb form of the word love 62 times. He highlights love a further 51 times in his gospel. What a wonderful lesson this one-time blustery big-mouth has left us! “Let us love one another … for love is from God” (1 John 4.7-8).

And let me point out one other valuable lesson from this most famous of apostles … He did not want, in any way, to become famous. And he took steps (unsuccessfully, of course) to make sure he didn’t.

Imagine yourself living early in the second century, somewhere in Asia Minor. And, since all the books of the New Testament have not yet been compiled into one volume, all you have at your disposal is the gospel of John and his three letters. Being a new Christian, you pour over them, drinking in every word. And one day the pastor comes up to you and says: ‘So what do you think about John, the apostle?’ Do you know what your answer might be? ‘John who?’

You see, if you had no access to the writings of the other apostles, you may never have heard of John. Why? Because he never once names himself in all the chapters of his gospel and letters. Not once! He calls himself “the other disciple” and, occasionally, “the disciple whom Jesus loved” … and in his later writings, “the elder.” But he never names himself. He never seeks acclaim for himself. We only know that “the other disciple” is John himself by comparing notes with Matthew, Mark, and Luke! And what a lesson to be learned! John got it! Christ is all! And therefore, as Augustine would say a few generations later: each of us should “love to be thyself unknown and to be counted for nothing.” That was John in his later life. John who? The son of thunder turned anonymous apostle!

But what about you? Do you “love to be thyself unknown”? Would you be content (even happy) if someone wrote a book about your church … and never once mentioned you by name? Would you write it that way yourself, or at least be willing to deflect all the praise to Christ? O dear brothers and sisters, let us imitate John as He imitates Jesus! Let us humble ourselves and make ourselves (Philippians 2.7) “nothing.”

Ordinary Joes, Part 2 - Silent James

When we think about the apostles, the number 12 is obviously key. But perhaps just as important a number is the digit 3. Why? Because, of the twelve closest followers of Jesus, there were three who, along with Jesus, formed the inner circle within the inner circle – Peter (whom we know well from all his impulsive antics within the gospel accounts), John (who wrote, perhaps, the most well-loved of the four gospels), and James (about whom we know almost nothing).

Have you ever considered how strange it is that we should know so little about one of Jesus’ three closest followers? We know James was the son of Zebedee and brother of John. All of the first three gospels record this fact. And we know that he was there at all the key moments in Jesus ministry; those private moments when Jesus saw fit only to have a few of the disciples with Him – when He raised a little girl from the dead (Mark 5); at His transfiguration (Matthew 17); and as He wrestled in the inner recesses of the Garden of Gethsemane (Mark 13). In other words, whenever Jesus felt it necessary to bring a long only a few of his most trusted friends, James was among that group! And yet he never had an individual speaking part in the gospel accounts. In fact, it was his little brother who overshadowed him and became a well-known pastor, the author of five New Testament books, and “the disciple whom Jesus loved”.

In the gospels, only two brief passages shed any individual light at all on the personality of the older son of Zebedee. And both are negative. First we have the account (Luke 6.51-56) of how a certain village refused to allow Jesus and the disciples to stay overnight. James and John’s solution? “Lord, do you want us to command fire from heaven to come down and consume them?” So much for letting him who is without sin cast the first stone! Follow that story with Mark chapter 10, in which James and his little brother had the audacity to ask Jesus to make them co-regents with Him (with the God-man!) in heaven (vv.35-40) … and what we have is another young and restless follower of Jesus who sometimes let his passions get away from him. Jesus, in fact, nicknamed James and John the “sons of thunder”(Mark 3.17) because of their abrasive pride.

So, in many ways, we could say the same things about James as we did a week ago about Peter (and about some of ourselves): rash, arrogant, and so on. But there was a difference. James’s occasional impulsiveness seems to have been mixed (most of the time, anyway) with a natural propensity to follow, rather than push his way to the front. Why do we know so little about James and so much about Peter? Not because James was any less present at the most important moments in Jesus’ ministry … for he was always there. But because James seems to have been always there primarily as a supporter and follower, rather than a decision maker. Perhaps he simply wasn’t the kind of natural and vocal leader Peter was. He was a sergeant rather than a general. If so, his story is a simple reminder that God uses all kinds of men to shepherd His flock – not just type A’s.

Or perhaps James’s usual silence is an indication that he learned his lesson more quickly than Peter. Maybe he learned, sooner than Peter did, to listen and learn before he let fly his thunderous opinions. Perhaps James learned, in the course of those three years of Jesus, to temper his fleshly zeal and be slower to speak. That is not to say that James was a wimp. Surely a man nicknamed “son of thunder” was no wimp! In fact, in Acts 12 we learn that he was run through with a sword … presumably for preaching Christ. So James wasn’t afraid to speak. But he had apparently learned the art of knowing when to speak with boldness, and when to hold his tongue. And that is a lesson, in one direction or the other, from which we can all benefit!

Ordinary Joes, Part 1 - Peter, the Spokesman

Run-of-the-mill. Rag-tag. Bumbling. Sinful. Faithful. Brave. Great. All of these are words that could be used to describe the twelve disciples of Jesus. Commercial fishermen from the backwater towns. IRS workers. These were the kinds of “ordinary men” (as John MacArthur calls them) whom Jesus selected to be His first and most significant followers. In many ways they were a lot like us. Normal Joe’s who, indwelt by the Spirit of Jesus, had the potential to become great in God’s kingdom. If they were alive today, their names would probably be Tom, Dick, and Harry. Jesus seemed to pick them almost indiscriminately. That is, He chose them, not because of any innate potential in themselves … but to demonstrate His power to change and use any life – no matter how normal or sinful.

Do you want Jesus to change and use your run-of-the-mill life? If so, there is a great deal to learn from the ordinary Joe’s whom we call the Apostles. My hope, for the next dozen or so weeks is to present them to you, in miniature. Twelve thumbnail sketches of twelve mediocre, sinful, great men … beginning this morning with, perhaps, the greatest (and most obviously sinful) of them all – Peter, the Spokesman.

If you know anything about Peter, you probably know that he was a fisherman … and that he was a bit impulsive, too – diving into the water, for instance, when he saw Jesus on the shoreline, while the other disciples rowed calmly to shore (John 21.7-8). His impulsiveness was especially evident in his speech, wasn’t it? It was Peter who rebuked Jesus (God’s own Son!) when He prophesied His death at the hands of the religious leaders (Mark 8.31-34). It was Peter who, on the mount of Transfiguration, began blurting out architectural plans instead of worshipping the glorified Jesus (Mark 9.1-6). It was Peter who boldly proclaimed that he would never deny Jesus (Luke 22.33). And it was those same bold lips that, just a few hours later, could be found cursing and playing dumb about the Christ.

It was Peter’s tongue that made him so peculiarly bumbling, wasn’t it? It was Peter’s tongue with which he seemed most prone to outward sin. And yet it was also Peter’s tongue that wooed three thousand people to the feet of Jesus in a single sermon (Acts 2). And it was Peter’s tongue that first took the good news of Jesus to the Gentiles (Acts 10). What happened? Peter’s tongue came under the Lordship of Jesus! Slowly the impulsiveness was washed away … and gave way to a more holy boldness. Jesus did not give Peter a whole new human personality. But He did redirect the focus of Peter’s confidence in a totally new, Godward direction. He took Peter’s quickness to speak his own mind, and turned it into a readiness to preach the gospel! And He took Peter’s audacity and made it courage.

This last point comes into stark relief when we read the accounts of what happened to Peter after the close of the New Testament. Ancient historians report that Peter went right on preaching … not only in the territories of Galilee and Judea, but also as far away as Rome … where he was martyred. And in his newfound holy boldness, Peter ventured to speak one last time … not another rebuke or set of denials. But a simple, bold appeal: ‘Crucify me upside down. I am not worthy to die in the same manner as my Lord.’

May it also be so in us! May the Lord mercifully cleanse and redirect our sinful defects … and make our lives and lips beautiful for Jesus!