Dear one,
Whatever the influence—perhaps my retracing Jesus’ steps toward Jerusalem and crucifixion—but whatever the influence, I’ve been reminded of His responses to would-be followers. According to Mark, as Jesus and His disciples approached Jerusalem, for a third time He forewarned: once within Jerusalem and its ancient environs, He would be betrayed—first unto Jewish leaders, who would condemn Him, and then unto Gentiles, who would mock Him, strike and spit upon Him, and kill Him—only to rise after three days (Mark 10:33-34).
In light of this third warning, and grasping a glimmer in His “rising after three days,” James and John approached Jesus: “Teacher, we desire that whatever we ask you, you will do for us” (10:35). Remarkably, Jesus asked, “What do you desire that I might do for you?” (10:36). Recognizing the opening He had freely gave them, they stated: “Grant to us that we might sit in your glory, one to your right and one to your left” (10:37).
However we understand the nature of their request—although the other ten disciples’ ire provides clarity (10:41)—Jesus’ response is telling: He didn’t demean them or their request, rather He simply stated: “You don’t know what you’re asking” (10:38). When they assured Him that they did, He did not belittle them or their conceptions of “glory”; instead, He said that their request was not His to grant (10:40).
My point: only days away from His own death—a death He had decisively foretold and with grim detail—He asked of James and John: What do you want me to do for you? Really, Jesus? Shouldn’t that be their question of you: What do you desire from us?
Likewise, only a few hours before His entry into Jerusalem—with all that that entry ultimately promised—a blind beggar cried out: “Son of David, pity me” (10:48). In response Jesus asked: “What do you desire that I might do for you?” (10:51). Rather than presuming to know the man’s need, Jesus dignified the blind beggar’s plea by asking him: What do you desire of me?
On occasion I’ve been asked: Isn’t Jesus’ really an ethic of love? In response I’ve affirmed: Yes, His is an ethic ( ἔθος: “custom” or “habit”) of love, if you understand “love” as the repeatedly asked, self-sacrificing, genuinely sincere question: What do you desire that I might do for you?
I wonder what would happen, irrespective our circumstances, if we habitually asked: What do you want me to do for you?
Seeking to ask,
Stan
Asking ...?