Back in Season 1, we set up the problem we’re working together to solve: The Great Omission. Then, in seasons 2-4, we explored the Three Primary Problems that often make our spiritual journeys that much more challenging: the Discipleship Dilemma, the Formation Gap, and the Forgotten Kingdom. In Season 5, we added color and flavor to Seasons 1-4 with wonderful conversations with experts in various areas related to Soil & Roots.
So, if you are just starting your Soil & Roots adventure and jumping in right here, we might use some terminology that isn’t familiar to you. The podcast is evergreen – we avoid discussing current events or time-sensitive issues, allowing you to start from the beginning and move ahead at your own pace. That being said, if you’re a rebel and want to start with us today right here anyway, well, welcome aboard!
We’re waist-deep in Season 6, and it’s dedicated to exploring a vital question: if discipleship is about us becoming more like Jesus over time, being formed more like Him, what does that mean? Who is this object of our formation? If we are to think, act, relate, and love more like Jesus, it seems essential to try to get a grasp of who He is.
Exploring the object of our formation requires some depth. A surface-level approach may result in us imitating behaviors without real change. We may gain head knowledge that never reaches the heart. It’s tempting to dwell on aspects of Jesus that are often taught and seemingly straightforward, like the fruits of the Spirit, while neglecting the more confusing and vexing parts of who Jesus is.
Here at Soil & Roots, we often delve into the deeper parts of the human person: our hidden and unconscious ideas and our unspoken desires. We discuss being more awake or attuned to God, others, ourselves, as well as creation and culture. That’s what it means to become a person of depth. We examine the role of God’s story and our stories in our ongoing quest to become the people God desires us to be. If genuine discipleship means being transformed from the inside out, this often involves some mysterious things about being human that are worth exploring.
As we become like Jesus, our inner lives are transformed. This means we are becoming the best version of ourselves from our hearts outward. We’re not becoming clones; we don’t lose our uniqueness. Just the opposite—we become who God intended us to be. We are being conformed to the image of the Son. We begin to experience the abundant life, the peace that passes all understanding, and the contentment in any circumstance.
Today is a really fascinating episode because we’re going to explore yet another characteristic of Jesus that doesn’t get much press…His enigmatic nature, his recurring tendency to be confusing, mysterious, cryptic, and even vexing.
Now, if you asked most people to name the characteristics of Jesus, there probably aren’t many who would respond with “puzzling” or “confusing.” Gentle, sure; loving and caring, yes. But cryptic? Whoever said something along the lines of, “Be like Jesus. Be confusing”?
Yet, if we explore what seems confusing about Jesus, we may experience more of the truth behind the mystery. We may discover that Jesus is a person of extraordinary depth, and that depth can often seem confusing; however, we should aspire to become individuals of that same kind of depth.
Riddle Me This
You may have heard of William Wilberforce, the British politician who was the pivotal leader in the 19th-century abolition of the British slave trade. His son, Samuel Wilberforce, was a bishop and is regarded as one of the greatest orators and debaters of his era. He participated in what’s been called “The Great Debate” over Darwin’s evolutionary theory at Oxford in 1860. After Sam Wilberforce died in 1873, a riddle was found among his papers, and it goes like this:
“I’m the sweetest of sounds in orchestra heard, yet in orchestra never was seen.
I’m a bird of gay plumage, yet less like a bird, nothing ever in nature was seen.
Touch the earth I expire, in water I die, in air I lose breath, yet can swim and can fly.
Darkness destroys me, and light is my death, and I only keep going by holding my breath.
If my name can’t be guessed by a boy or a man, by a woman or girl it certainly can.”
That’s the riddle. Can you figure out the answer? Well, if you can, you should win some sort of prize, because in the 152 years since it was found, nobody has ever solved it with certainty. To this day, it’s an enigma what exactly Samuel Wilberforce was thinking, although there have been many great guesses. Feel free to send one in if you have one. The best guess I’ve seen so far is the rainbow.
Jesus sometimes spoke in riddles. He had his finger on the pulse of his culture, so he often used stories and illustrations that would have spoken to the people of his day, but even they were sometimes confused by his stories and examples.
Ideas in the Air
Here at Soil & Roots, we talk a lot about “ideas in the air,” which are the accepted principles and cultural assumptions of the time and place we are born into. We typically internalize them unconsciously. They are simply the air we breathe.
In the 21st-century Western world, post-enlightenment, we live in an ideal set that promotes rationality and science as the primary sources of truth, with an emphasis on knowledge and intellectualism. Whatever the situation, we expect there to be a correct answer.
Yet, Jesus didn’t always correct everyone. If we are imitating Christ by leaning into relationships with him and others, then accuracy is part of that, but not the whole story. Being more like Christ means we are empathetic, patient, wise, and compassionate, even while we consider error in ourselves and others.
When we look at Jesus, we don’t always see him acting as the sin police, or the doctrine police, for that matter. He doesn’t run around correcting everyone’s theological errors. Instead, he invites others to experience the truth through his teaching and his life, without always telling the apostles, the crowds, or other people he meets that they are wrong. Sometimes he does, but not always. He seems to be a master of meeting people where they are and relating to them in that moment.
Overall, he was patient with most people, allowing them time to reach out to him, recognizing that experiencing truth is often a process.
In the West, we prioritize intellect, science, and reasoning. But the fact is, the brain can be “right,” and the heart can be somewhere else. Look at the Pharisees—they knew the Scriptures backward and forward, but many of them weren’t following Jesus.
It’s more comfortable to be around people who agree with us, people who think we’re right and accurate, because we are on the same page. This is certainly where I’m most comfortable. But that’s not what Jesus did. He intentionally sought out people who had very different ideas from Him. Samaritans, Zionists, Pharisees, Gentiles, and many others with radically different notions.
So, he spoke to them in parables, riddles, and stories. Sometimes, he refused to answer a question, and often, when he did answer, his answers didn’t seem to really address the original question.
He employed various methods and experiences to capture hearts and sow seeds that would take time to grow, rather than merely trying to persuade people to agree mentally in the moment. He continues to plant and cultivate such seeds thousands of years later.
The Student of Wisdom
Part of the reason Jesus’s teachings can be so confusing and mysterious is that he employed an ancient tradition regarding wisdom that is very different from the modern Western mindset.
The modern quest to be correct can lead to a black-and-white view of the world, and when we look at the Bible through the same lens, we might assume it’s just an instruction manual: a guidebook with advice to be directly applied to every situation. That’s why every modern sermon must end with some sort of application. If we aren’t told what to do, we are disappointed.
A similar view in modern Christianity might be called the Nike approach: “God said it, just do it.” The idea seems to be that since God said to stop sinning, we should just stop sinning. This is a very Western, intellectual perspective: that we can make a decision rationally, and then our behavior will automatically follow. But human hearts aren’t that simple. Ask anyone who has ever been addicted to anything. We know addition is harmful. We know what we are doing is wrong. We just can’t stop our behaviors.
Those in Bible times operated from and lived in a very different set of ideas in the air. Although the Bible does offer a wealth of guidance for life, its original audience would not have resonated with the concept that they could take any passage from Scripture and apply it directly to what was happening in their life in a one-for-one application.
The Book of Proverbs is a perfect example.
The editors of Holman’s Apologetics Study Bible write: “The types of sayings found in Proverbs reflect a way of thinking and teaching that has been largely abandoned in modern Western culture. Proverbs are general statements of truth rather than invariable promises or laws.”
They go on:
“The student of wisdom is challenged by the ambiguity to explore the possibilities for understanding the proverb along with the variety of situations in which the principle appropriately applies. The ambiguity also promotes ongoing reflection as to the legitimate limits for applying the principle.”
The Proverbs can’t possibly consist entirely of direct instruction meant to be taken literally and applied universally, although the Bible is often taught this way. Otherwise, what do we do with a verse like Proverbs 26:4-5: “Do not answer a fool according to his folly, or you will be like him yourself. Answer a fool according to his folly, or he will be wise in his own eyes.”
Well, which is it? Are we supposed to answer a fool or not?
Wisdom often lives in the ambiguity, in understanding the context of the situation in which the principle applies, and in learning its limits.
But strap in… because this method is often confusing for those of us brought up in the post-enlightenment ideas of the West.
Riddle Me Again
In Proverbs 1, the author lays out the purpose for the book: “Let a wise person listen and increase learning, and let a discerning person obtain guidance—for understanding a proverb or a parable, the words of the wise, and their riddles.”
“The words of the wise and their riddles.” This is an apt description of Jesus and how he often shared his teachings. In fact, the word here translated as ‘parable’ can also be translated as ‘enigma.’
Jesus often taught through parables, meaning he frequently conveyed messages through enigmas, puzzles, and conundrums.
This can be uncomfortable for those of us raised with Western ideas, so what should we do with this?
The Invitation
We might first embrace the idea that the straightforward, black-and-white, cause-and-effect ideas we’re used to may not actually be the best way for our hearts to grow and deepen. Simply being fed information may lead to intellectual agreement but not to heart transformation, because sometimes our hearts need to wrestle, struggle, and be shaken in order to deepen.
Though uncomfortable, we might embrace the idea that Jesus’ enigmas are intentionally confusing as a way for God to draw us in, beckoning us deeper.
An enigma is inherently an invitation. It’s not a refusal. It’s not an objection. It invites: it says, “If you can, unravel me.” It’s not a wall that’s blocking us; it’s the sword in the stone, testing us. It invites our hearts to do more than simply accept a fact – it invites us to explore and to experience.
Now, this concept can easily devolve into a concentration of power among the religious elite, the very issue that Martin Luther and others resisted. They fought against the idea that only a select few are ‘worthy’ of hearing from God and so should read and interpret Scripture for the rest of us. That only a few people can unravel these enigmas.
Most of the cases of spiritual abuse I hear about today involve this sort of corrupted idea. Some Christian leader claims he or she has a special word from the Lord, or some sort of revelation, or some particular authority because they have the ability to interpret Scripture in a way the rest of us can’t.
That’s not what we’re talking about. Instead, difficult or mysterious passages invite us all to explore, dig in, wrestle with, and marinate in their depths.
But not everyone in Christ’s day, like ours, was willing or ready to accept complicated stories and truths. He repeatedly said, “He who has ears to hear, let him hear.” Not everyone has listening ears. Not everyone is ready to wrestle, explore, and experience.
Yet even so, he doesn’t tend to leave us where we are. There is a sense of Christ slowly, persistently, and patiently drawing us into deeper waters. He doesn’t start by tossing Peter out of the boat the first time they meet; instead, he gradually molds Peter’s character until Peter steps out of the boat all by himself.
The truth is not one shining pearl popped out of an oyster—it’s slowly, beautifully, lovingly uncovered, one layer after another.
A Challenge
Not only is an enigma an invitation, but it’s also a challenge, in the best way.
Imagine a father who challenges his children or allows them to challenge him. Imagine them wrestling on the floor, racing against each other, and attempting to dunk one another in the pool. Even from a young age, my two sons were always eager to try to topple me in the pool. They are now in their twenties and still can’t manage it, by the way.
Competition can be healthy. Sons and daughters are invited to test their strength against their parents, to see how much they’ve grown and to prove their mettle.
This kind of challenge is also a way to build relationships. Through it, kids can rest in the security of their father’s strength, but also engage with him. It’s a way for the child to say, “Look what I can do, Dad,” and for the father to say, “Come on, show me.” It’s another way for the father to delight in his children and participate in their lives.
Have you ever thought about God intentionally being mysterious as a way to challenge us to come closer? The only way we solve the mysteries, or at least come to be at peace with not solving them, is to press closer to God. We don’t uncover the truth without moving closer to the source of truth. You can’t see better by moving farther from the light.
This is part of seeking and finding. Christ knew his followers would come closer to him the more they engaged with the messy, complicated, and baffling messages at the heart of his ministry.
Unlike our standard model in the 21st-century West, which focuses on acquiring information, Jesus was once again prioritizing relationships over mere head knowledge. Our culture employs an educational model based on regurgitating information. But perhaps becoming like Jesus means we emphasize less on knowing and more on being. And our “being” is often formed through challenge.
A Transformation
So, enigmas offer invitation, challenge, and… transformation. When solved, enigmas present a moment of epiphany—a burst of insight and satisfaction as the answer is revealed. They guide us into a clearer experience of truth, and truth transforms.
We’ve all experienced the joy and satisfaction of solving a problem or puzzle. It can be transformative.
During a radio broadcast on October 1, 1939, Winston Churchill was discussing the Nazi-Soviet Pact shortly after World War II began. Churchill described the actions of Russia as “a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma,” but Churchill added, “Perhaps there is a key.”
Sometimes, the key to understanding Christ’s teachings is to consider them in context. You may be aware that there has been a movement in the last fifty years or so in scholastic theology to better understand the audiences for whom the Bible was originally written. As it’s been said many times, “The Bible wasn’t written to us, but it was written for us.”
Sometimes the key to understanding Jesus’ stories and difficult teachings is to immerse ourselves in the culture, ideas, and circumstances of the Bible’s original audiences. Thanks to modern archaeology and technology, we have more opportunities than any other generation to do just that.
There’s a growing, worldwide non-profit called The Bible Project based in Portland that helps us better understand the context of the Bible and its original audiences through creative videos and lessons. Perhaps there are some keys there for us to help us unlock some of the more difficult things we hear from Jesus.
And sometimes, to be fair, we are transformed by accepting that there are some mysteries we won’t unravel or some truths that Jesus shared that may take years or even decades to fully embrace. Again, we can find some rest in the fact that Jesus meets us where we are.
A Vexing Messiah
We’ve been primarily discussing Jesus’s teachings and public words. But Jesus could also be enigmatic in his actions and approaches to individuals, and those relationships can be confusing for us today.
Jesus didn’t seem to care much about what people thought of him, and sometimes this meant he acted very much against prevailing assumptions about how people should behave. Honestly, at times, he acted counter to contemporary assumptions about how Christians should behave.
Can you imagine how a Christian might get into trouble today if he called someone a “dog”? Can you envision standing before a crowd of followers and proclaiming to someone from an entirely different religion that you had never witnessed faith like theirs? Or if you openly discussed eating our bodies or drinking our blood?
Some of these moments contradict the meek, sweet, and always considerate image of Jesus that we’ve formed. Sunday School Jesus wouldn’t do these things, but the historical Jesus did.
The Syro-Phoenician Woman
Let’s talk about the Syro-Phoenician woman. She was a Gentile with a demon-possessed daughter who cried out to Jesus for help because her daughter suffered terribly. As a Canaanite, the Jews considered her and her people as cultural outcasts, as infidels, too lowly to associate with. The disciples were annoyed by her cries for help and urged Jesus to send her away.
Jesus finally answers the desperate woman, and what does he say? “I was sent only to the lost sheep of Israel.” Undeterred, she kneels before him and cries out for help again, and Jesus responds, “It is not right to take the children’s bread and toss it to the dogs.”
I’m not sure about you, but that sounds a bit like a racial insult.
But the gentile woman is persistent. She tells Jesus, “Even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their master’s table.”
And Jesus replies, “Woman, you have great faith! Your request is granted.” And her daughter was healed at that moment.
Wow. I imagine the twelve disciples had to pick their jaws up off the ground. How much courage must it have taken for this gentile woman to approach a Jewish teacher and his followers, and to keep crying for help until she got his attention?
And then, he reminds her of her place in society—and how the Jews of the day saw her. As a dog.
It was an invitation to the woman. A challenge. Here is the puzzle, here is the conundrum. You are a gentile woman. Your daughter’s only hope lies in the hands of a teacher whose people see you as little better than an animal. What do you do?
You press in. You keep crying out. You don’t let anyone or anything keep you from the hope you see before you.
“Even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from the master’s table,” the woman says, and if you listen to her heart, you can hear what she’s asking, what she’s pleading to hear: I am only a lowly gentile, but do I still matter to your God? Do I still matter to you?
And the bombshell drops. The puzzle box bursts open to reveal the truth. Jesus doesn’t grudgingly acknowledge that she can lap up crumbs. He tells her in front of everyone gathered that her faith is great. And he doesn’t make her wait – He proclaims her request is granted on the spot. And her daughter is healed.
Invitation. Challenge. Transformation.
The Faith of the Centurion
One more story that must have been vexing to those who experienced it. In Capernaum, a Roman centurion approaches Jesus and alerts him that the centurion’s servant is paralyzed. Jesus asks if he should come and heal the servant, and the soldier replies, “Lord, I do not deserve to have you come under my roof. But just say the word, and my servant will be healed.”
Jesus is amazed by this and says to those following him, “Truly I tell you, I have not found anyone in Israel with such great faith.” Then Jesus says to the centurion, “Go! Let it be done just as you believed it would.”
Now keep in mind that the Romans were polytheistic. They worshiped many gods, such as Jupiter, the patron god of Rome, and Mars, the god of war. They also revered their emperors as gods.
Worshipping many gods is pretty darn contrary to what the Israelites had been taught constituted proper faith. So here comes this Roman centurion. Not only is he in many ways an enemy of the Jews, their oppressor, but he’s likely a pagan.
Does Jesus send him away? Rebuke him? Tell him the four spiritual laws? Give him a lecture on polytheism and monotheism?
Not at all. Jesus tells him, in front of a crowd, that he has not seen anyone in Israel with this man’s faith. What do you think any listening Jews would have thought of that? What do you think the disciples thought of that?
They might think, here I am, a devout Jewish man, and I gave up my livelihood to follow Christ, and here’s this pagan Roman, and the Messiah says he’s never seen such faith before? This pagan has more faith than me??
It’s a shocking claim. It’s a vexing story.
As with the Gentile woman, we see Jesus more interested in relationships than in immediate doctrinal accuracy. We see him engaging with people in a unique way that carefully considers the specifics of their lives. Jesus’s actions and reactions are not one-size-fits-all. There is no formula we can memorize and apply.
Jesus is a person of depth, and He slowly and carefully invites us into those depths.
Conclusion
People in Jesus’s day often misunderstood his words and actions. They misread the situation, they misconstrued his message, they missed the point. We can tend to do the same.
Writing for the Bible Engagement Project, Chase Replogle states, “Jesus used misunderstanding and confusion as a means of drawing out deeper questions and pressing conversations beyond the normal conventions. The misunderstandings were often His point… We should also keep ourselves from growing frustrated by difficult passages, hard sayings, and things that at first pass don’t make sense. We, too, should press on.”
Similarly, Pastor Marc Sims writes: “Jesus is interested in creating disciples who take His Word seriously, who are not satisfied with a cavalier or light-hearted attitude towards Christ’s teaching, but will wrestle with it and bring it to the feet of Jesus in prayer and ask Him, ‘Will you help me understand this?’”
This might prompt some questions in us. If we are to become like Jesus, how can we show the depth of relational wisdom that he displays? How can we prioritize relationships while still holding to the truth? How can we see the enigmas of God not just as problems to be solved but as opportunities to press closer? How about the enigmas of other people or ourselves?
And if we are becoming more like Jesus, does that mean there should be times when we don’t give the right answer, when we hide or obscure the truth, or when we simply walk away? Times when we must use incredible discernment to treat people as highly unique individuals? What would such a becoming mean for our spiritual journey?
