I’ve often said that it’s easier for us to believe justification by faith alone when we’re taking a systematic theology exam than when we get ready to have our morning devotions. We understand that our righteousness before the Lord is not based on our own good works but on the sufficient work of Christ in his perfect life, sin-bearing death, and justifying resurrection for us. But in those moments when the enemy is bringing up our sins, sins we’ve confessed, repented of, and moved on from, it’s easy to believe his lies, telling us that God wants nothing to do with us and move toward a mindset that says my righteousness is dependent on me having done enough good or avoided enough bad.
One other area where I think we struggle to accept what we know is true when it comes to living our lives day-in and day-out is in the area of suffering. For example, we all are no doubt aware that Jesus said, “A disciple is not above his teacher, nor a servant above his master. It is enough for the disciple to be like his teacher, and the servant like his master. If they have called the master of the house Beelzebul, how much more will they malign those of his household” (Matt 10:24-25). If each of us was given a true-false test and one of the questions was, “Jesus actually said the words recorded in Matthew 10:24-25?” I think we would all confidently mark “true.” We believe Jesus said it. We know what Jesus said is true. Therefore, we know that we should expect the kind of reactions from people in this world that our Lord experienced.”
When it comes to real life, however, we often feel shocked when we actually encounter rejection, opposition, being misunderstood, being accused of things that aren’t only untrue but also illogical, and other things that our Lord encountered, don’t we? Perhaps this is only compounded by the fact that in our particular country in this particular time in world history, we’ve been in a place of relative peace and comfort. Our culture has often done more to accommodate religious liberty in general and Christianity specifically throughout the years than oppose it. But the Scripture teaches us to think of that as an extraordinary exception.
One text that forces us to recall Jesus’ declaration that if they called him Beelzebul they will much more malign us is our text this morning, Matthew 13:53-14:12. This section of Matthew’s gospel is made up of two episodes revolving around two different individuals. In the first part of the text (13:53-58), we read of Jesus being rejected by those in his town. In the second part of the text (14:1-12), we have a flashback to an early time when John was beheaded. Two different episodes, two different times, and two different central figures in each. But I think it’s clear that Matthew wants us to connect these two stories because in the section prior to this, Matthew has grouped together Jesus’ teaching about the kingdom in the form of parables (13:1-52), so they all belong together. Then, in the section following our text this morning (14:13-36), we have three healing stories of Jesus all linked together as we feeds the five thousand, walks on water, and heals the sick. So, that section obviously belongs together. Then, in the middle of these two clear units we have these two stories about Jesus’ rejection in Nazareth and John’s death at the hands of Herod. What is it, then, that Matthew wants us to see by putting these stories side-by-side though they involve two different central figures in each? I think this lesson is this: Don’t forget Christ’s words that what he suffers at the hands of those who reject him is a blueprint for what his followers should expect, but our call is to walk in trusting obedience before our faithful God.
That is what I want us to see and consider this morning. First, let’s consider the episode with Jesus, where we see that:
Matthew 13:53-58 picks up where we left off last time. Jesus finishes the parables, and then he goes to his hometown of Nazareth where he goes into the synagogue and begins teaching them and (apparently) doing some mighty works. And they’re astonished. But they’re not astonished in a good way. They’re astonished in the sense of, “Surely he can’t be as impressive as he looks” kind of way.
They ask, “Where did this man get this wisdom and these mighty works?” And the reason why they couldn’t believe and couldn’t accept his miraculous works is because they knew him. They’d seen him grow up. He had been just a normal kid, normal teenager, and normal man in their eyes (which by the way is confirmation that those false gospels that have floated around over the years arguing that Jesus was doing miracles on the playground as a child simply aren’t true).
So, they begin asking a series of questions that are all really the same question. They ask, “Is not this the carpenter’s son? Is not his mother called Mary? Are not his brothers James and Joseph and Simon and Judas? And are not all his sisters with us? Where then did this man get all these things?” (vv. 54-56).
The reason I say they are all really the same question is because each question is basically simply this: “Don’t we know this guy, who is one of us, and, therefore, how in the world does he purport to have special knowledge and power?”
You’ve no doubt experienced this with your family. You might become the leading thinker on the planet about some issue or become a rocket scientist and still when you go back to your hometown, you’re treated as if you’re still nine years old. You’re not held in honor because they saw you grow up on the playground, knew the shenanigans your siblings pulled, and played youth baseball with you. They know you, and that means that you can’t be that impressive. In a different setting, you’re impressive. At home, not so much. So, Matthew says, “They took offense at him,” meaning that they did not believe.
Jesus notes this, saying, “A prophet is not without honor except in his hometown and in his own household” (v. 57). This is senseless rejection, and it costs the people of Nazareth. Obviously in an eternal way it cost them, because unless they believed eventually, they’ll face divine judgment. But it also costs them in the short term.
We read in verse 58, “And he did not do many mighty works there, because of their unbelief.” Now, this doesn’t mean that somehow Jesus’ ability was limited because of their lack of faith, as if he wanted to do something but couldn’t. Clearly Jesus is able to do anything he desires in accord with the will of his Father. Rather, the point is that Jesus withheld a demonstration of his power because of their unbelief. That is, Jesus demands faith if indeed he is going to demonstrate his power.
As I mentioned, this is senseless rejection and great cost. I mean, it is one thing to not think Jesus could be the Messiah, but to base it on the fact that you know his parents, brothers, and sisters is simply senseless. This is a case of potential eternal damnation simply because familiarity breeds contempt. Jesus once more faces senseless rejection, even though he is God the Son incarnate.
Then, in 14:1-12, we see that:
Matthew 14 begins with Herod the tetrarch hearing about Jesus and his mighty works and thinking he must be John the Baptist raised from the dead. Now, first of all, this isn’t the same Herod that we see in the opening chapters of Matthew’s gospel who sought to kill the infant Jesus. That Herod Matthew labels as “Herod the king” when he first introduces him to us in 2:1. And he gives us the same courtesy here, labeling this Herod, “Herod the tetrarch.” This was the son of Herod the great. He was not the emperor (though called a king at times – even as Matthew acknowledges in verse 9) but more like a governor over a territory that included Galilee.
Now, our first question when we read that Herod’s crazy conclusion that Jesus must be John the Baptist raised from the dead doing miraculous works is, “What in the world would cause him to think that way?” So, Matthew gives us the answer in verses 3-12, as he provides a flashback to the time when Herod has John the Baptist killed, a situation which obviously has caused him great guilt and paranoia.
Matthew tells us that Herod had put John in prison because John had been consistently telling Herod that he was acting wrongly in marrying his brother Phillip’s wife. Now, this was wrong of Herod on a couple of counts. For one, he was attempting to marry his brother’s wife while his brother was still living, something that clearly went against the Mosaic law in Leviticus 18:16. Second, in order to marry her, not only do she and Phillip have to divorce, but Herod himself has to divorce his first wife, the daughter of the king of Petra. So, John had plenty of reason to oppose this marriage, speaking against it, and he did so.
Interestingly, though Herod had John imprisoned for this, John would have had the support of the conservative Jews living in the area, which surely would have been great in number. Therefore, though Herod wanted to put John to death, he feared the people among whom John was very popular and who rightly regarded him as a prophet.
But then the fateful day came when Herod had a birthday celebration, and Herodias’s daughter came to dance before him and his company. And this pleased Herod to the point that he pompously and boisterously made an oath that he would give her anything she wanted.
Now, Herodias’s daughter, according to commentators, was probably somewhere between 12-14 years’ old. So, not only is Herod having the daughter of his wife dance before him, but she was quite young. But her age played a bigger factor than simply making the situation more improper than it was already. It meant that when it came time for Heroidias’s daughter to cash in on the promise from Herod to give her whatever she wanted, she consulted her mother. And her mother had it out for John.
Therefore, Herodias told her daughter to request John the Baptist’s head on a platter. And when Herod heard it, he was bothered because he never wanted to kill John in the first place because of the fear of the people. But when you combine John’s death with execution by beheading (which was not practiced among the Jews) and without trial, it would be seen as that much worse.
Nonetheless, Herod doesn’t want to lose face in front of his guests, so he ordered John to be beheaded, and his head was brought to the girl who in turn gave it to her mother. Thus, John the Baptist was murdered.
Now, before diving into thinking about the details of John’s death, just note for a minute who John the Baptist was. He was not only a prophet, but he was the last of the Old Testament prophets. Nor was he just a prophet, but he was one about whom other prophets had prophesied, saying that there would come one who would be a voice crying in the wilderness, preparing the way for the Lord. Jesus even said of John that because he had the privilege of being the forerunner of the Messiah, there had arisen no one greater than John at the time of his birth. What a statement! Obviously, John is a chosen instrument of the Lord and precious in his sight. I want to make that clear because I want us to understand that before we look at the seeming senseless way in which John died.
John died because a cowardly king made a rash oath to show off for his guests. That’s it. I mean, we live in a world where we often look at things and are tempted to wonder what if this had happened or what if that had happened. It’s very tempting to play that game with John. What if Herod hadn’t made a rash vow? What if Herod just had exercised the courage to refuse Herodias’s daughter’s request? What if Herod had just not had this silly birthday party or had made this oath before John was in his prison? Doesn’t it feel just so utterly senseless?
When Lili and I lived in Louisville we got news that a friend of ours, our age, had been killed in a car accident, and it really bothered me. Her death left her husband without his wife and their daughter without her mother. And this friend of ours was doing mission work overseas. In fact, at the time of her death, her husband was on an airplane, coming back from a trip where he worked with local pastors on the other side of the world. And her death just seemed so senseless. She was just out driving, got in an accident, and was killed.
It ended up bothering me so much that I sat down and wrote about it. That night, nearly ten years ago now, without knowing the exact circumstances of the accident, I wrote this: “At first, her death seemed to me to be senseless and trite. Someone who lives her life in service to the Lord has life end because some person simply isn’t paying attention and slams into the side of her car. I don’t think I’m being less than honest when I say that we as individuals judge ourselves important enough to think our death should be like that of Jim Elliot or at least one in which you know death is coming, you’ve been contemplating it, and perhaps your family is gathered around you. We do not anticipate our lives coming to an abrupt end on some quick trip to the grocery store or the like.”
If I were honest, in my mind, it seemed like she deserved something more fitting. Even her death seemed like it needed to come with a little more dignity or heroism. We speak of the Lord’s sovereignty and love for us, rightly so. Yet her life was so quickly and easily snuffed out, so it seemed.
But even my friend’s death makes more sense than John’s. Sure, she was doing good work unto the Lord. John was a prophet. Sure, her death felt like it could have been easily avoided. In John’s case, Herod didn’t even want to give the order to kill John. He did it just to save face. Here, we have a clear picture of the servant being treated like his master.
So, what should be our response to these two episodes in Matthew’s gospel? I think our application is this:
Everything I said about John’s death feeling senseless and utterly avoidable is indeed an accurate picture of how we can feel. There is much we don’t understand this side of the resurrection. But there is another perspective. First, John is indeed murdered by Herod, but this occurred not only under the Lord’s providential hand, and the Lord Jesus Christ told us this would happen. John’s death is a picture of Christ’s enemies treating the servants like the master. And we die within, not outside of, the providential working of our Lord. Remember Jesus’ words to Peter after Jesus declared to Peter how he would die and Peter asked, “What about him?” pointing to John? Jesus responded, “If I will that he remain until I come …” That is to say, our deaths are never outside of our Lord’s providence and care.
Second, though John’s death may well feel senseless, the Lord has promised to work all things for our good, and that includes even the death of his saints. That is to say, I don’t think we can ever know how John’s death was used of the Lord fully this side of eternity. We know that Herod’s sin in executing John was still serving as a convicting presence in his life, which is why he, in a very paranoid fashion, thought that Jesus was a resurrected John the Baptist. And who knows all the Christians who were strengthened by John’s faithfulness, as he had been obedient to death?
And on that note, John’s obedience to Christ provides for us a fitting picture of faith to follow, just as we heard read from Hebrews 11 earlier in the service. John died because he was in prison. He was in prison just because he was obeying the Lord. He might not have known the time he would die, but he did know that until that day, he would seek to love and obey his Lord.
That night in Louisville, as I sat down to write a meditation of my friend’s death, I listened to her funeral online, and it was powerful. In fact, after listening to it, I returned to my writing and wrote this: “I listened to her funeral message, and I found my heart gripped to want to love and treasure Christ more deeply. I found myself wanting to find my utmost delight in him and for that to be the clear testimony of my life. I longed for this because I was moved by the testimony of her life – a testimony I most likely would not have heard had she not died. I found myself at multiple points thinking, “I did not know that she treasured Christ that deeply,” and such thoughts led to a deep desire to imitate her faith and love for God.
As I’ve reflected on this, I’ve thought about how many others are like me. Perhaps there are many who will hear the testimony of her life through this funeral message, and they too will be moved to want to love and treasure Christ more deeply. It is not hard to imagine that hundreds could be affected by the testimony of her life in the same way that I have. And if that’s the case, then the great difference I perceived between Jim Elliot’s death and her death disappears. Both tragic events served to illuminate the life of someone dedicated to God, a life that perhaps would have remained hidden from many were it not for such an untimely death. Even in my limited perspective, I can see how God has used her death already to move his people to love and treasure him more deeply, even as he used Elliot’s death more than half a century ago to do the same.
O, when will I learn to trust in God’s providence? If not a sparrow falls to the ground apart from him, then he is lovingly guiding our lives whether they end in a slow agonizing death from cancer, an abrupt car accident, or at the hands of our Lord’s enemies. Such a God is worthy of our trust.”
But the greatest reminder of why we must continue to walk in obedient faith and trust before our God, even through suffering that can feel so senseless from our perspective, is because one afternoon Jesus Christ, God’s Son, was taken unjustly by his enemies and executed at the hands of a leader who seemingly wasn’t too thrilled about this execution, but was too cowardly to stop it. And what felt so senseless to many, I’m sure, as Jesus died on that cross, was not senseless at all. In fact, it was God’s redeeming work to save a people for himself. You and I find our salvation in what seemed like the most senseless death of the least deserving of such tragic evil. But he was raised from the dead on the third day, and one day, no matter how we die or what suffering we face in this age, will be raised as well. And on that day, we will finally see the full tapestry of the wisdom of God in the events of this age. But now, we walk by faith, trusting in the Lord who has earned our trust for a million lifetimes because he sent his Son to live, died, and be raised for our redemption. Therefore, let us give thanks to him now as we come to the table. Amen.