Spainhour Summer Summit Challenge 2022: Kezek—The Brothers

The final 2022 Spainhour Summer Summit Challenge.

I had originally planned to take Kezek up Mt. Stone, a formidable peak in its own right, but on a whim I gave him three options: Mt. Stone, Mt. Bretherton, or (the highest peak on the eastern Olympic skyline, and by far the hardest) The Brothers. Naturally, he chose The Brothers.

We hiked up from camp at (lower) Lena Lake at 7:15 AM and didn’t get back to the truck till. 9:30 PM.

Along the way, we only saw four people doing summit attempts, all on the way out, none of whom made it to the top 😐 We saw two of them back at camp when we returned and one of them (wearing an Ironman shirt, mind you) congratulated Kezek and confessed he didn’t think he’d be able to make it. He also speculated that Kezek, at ten years-old, was probably the youngest to ever do it. I wouldn’t be surprised if that were true. But I wasn’t surprised he did it. That boy has determination built into his constitution.

At one point near the top Kezek started to get discouraged. The sun was relentless, we had had to backtrack a few times in sketchy places (due to my navigation errors 😖), and most of all he had a pounding headache. He was entering into the essential mountaineering experience—being small and out of control…and in pain. But we have a big God who is in control, so I put my hand on his forehead and begged Jesus out loud to take his headache away from him (I was getting pretty desperate to boost his morale, because things seemed to be deteriorating rapidly, so I really was begging). Sometimes it’s hard to imagine Jesus caring about one boy’s headache when nations are at war and people are dying and all the rest, but we asked and Jesus answered. Kezek’s headache went away, and it went away in such a way that he knew it was an answer to prayer. That was the turning point of the journey. Jesus is always the turning point of the journey.

#spainhoursummersummitchallengecomplete🧗🧗‍♂️🧗🧗‍♀️

Spainhour Summer Summit Challenge 2022: Radley—Mt. Ellinor

Spainhour Summer Summit Challenge. 3 down, 1 to go.

Traditionally, the Mt. Ellinor summit is the rite of passage for finishing kindergarten—so it was for my three boys—but for my daughter, we went ahead with it after preschool. Consider it affirmative action if you want, but she needed to be challenged, and she was raised with three older brothers. She has spent her whole life keeping up with (and in some cases passing) them, so I’m happy to help her in her efforts to rise above.

Radley is girl strong. I’ve raised three boys, and I’ve tested their strength. I know boy strong, and Radley is something else. Hers is of a different quality. It’s more stubborn. She’d regularly complain, and just as regularly refuse help. She wanted to know if her brothers went to the “tippity top” (the highest point on the summit: they technically didn’t—she did, and is looking forward to rubbing it in their faces when she gets home).

Her strength is also more relational. She’d whine about her legs hurting and (after telling her to suck it up) she’d ask how I was feeling. She stopped to talk to literally everyone we passed (which was super annoying but indicative of a strength nonetheless). Half the time up the trail she was having an imaginary conversation (out loud) with two of her best friends (even doing their voices). She also thanked me every time she saw a new vista or enjoyed a moment or saw some sculpted feature that inspired awe. My boys don’t do that. I felt appreciated, a nice spin on this trip.

And that fish you see in the picture below—after fishing for 30 or so minutes with no action, Radley suggested we pray for Jesus to help us fish. We did. The next three casts—no joke—we caught three fish.

On the way up, one person we passed commented (observing my five-year-old daughter tackling the challenge he was facing), “my ten-year-old son wouldn’t even do something like this—he’d be whining the whole way up.” I told him: “That’s on you, dad. Kids can do whatever they think their parents think they can do.” I think my kids can do anything. They never cease to amaze me. And with this one…God may have just broken the mold. Who knows the places she’ll go???

#girlstrong💪🏻

Spainhour Summer Summit Challenge 2022: Maccabee—Mt. Angeles

Spainhour Summer Summit Challenge. 2 down, 2 to go.

‘Two roads diverged in the woods’ and Maccabee made a third way through (with his shoes (intentionally) on the wrong feet). This kid is the embodiment of a free spirit, the spirit of wonder. If you ever take a hike with Maccabee, be prepared to go off trail and to stop at every…feature…living or sculpted, legged or pedaled.

Prepare also to be stretched and challenged about how much you think a kid can accomplish.

Summiting Mt Angeles is no joke, particularly taking an unmarked route straight up the spine to the summit. I didn’t realize it was going to be as steep and exposed as it was (or told Keldy it would be), but it (concerningly) didn’t even concern Maccabee. He was unfazed, casually indifferent about the (un)apparent(?) danger of the situation, literally stopping to catch crickets on the steepest part of the approach, but nonetheless aware and capable and strong when climbing.

We ended up clocking almost 12 miles that day and he kept a good attitude from beginning to end, even as the aches swelled throughout the hike. Couldn’t be prouder of this little warrior.

#maccabee🔨 #stop&smellthe🌹🐜🍁🦗🍂🐞🦌🦋🪨🕸🐛

Spainhour Summer Summit Challenge 2022: Ryser—Goat Lake Peak

Couldn’t be prouder of this little warrior. We hiked along the Dungeness River in to Camp Handy on Monday night and did a little fishing (Ryser caught 2, me 0).

The next morning we hiked up to Goat Lake—3,800’ of ascent—where I caught a monster trout #🎣💪🏻, then another 1,000’ to the northern peak on the ridge.

The plan was to take a “shortcut” by hiking down the ridge rather than the maintained trail, a shortcut that ended up taking at least twice as long as it would have to return the way we came. The bushwhacking was brutal, the terrain cattywampus and thick with briar patches and downed trees, leading to bloody legs and aching feet.

When we got about 1/2 mile from the maintained trail (after about 10 hours of steep hiking) Ryser stepped on a rotten log and fell straight down about 4-5’, scraping his leg, the side of his belly, arm pit, and all up the inside of his arm. He had held his composure until that point, but that was a little too much for him. I told him as soon as we got to the trail, I’d carry him out on my shoulders the rest of the way. He giggled a bit and his spirit returned to him—when everything becomes miserable, laughter is the best defense.

When we finally got to the trail, I asked him if he was ready for a “ride” out. He said, “No, I want to finish.” I asked if he wanted me to carry his pack. He said, “No, I want to finish the way I started.” I had held my composure until that point, but that was a little too much for me. He asked if something was wrong. I said, “No, I’m just so proud of you!” Ryser is a finisher #💪🏻🏁

Looking forward to the rest of the summer challenges I’ve got planned!

#prouddad #sharingmomentsmakingmemories #miserable=memorable #1down3togo

This Promise is for You and for Your Children


“This promise is for you and for your children…”

The only treasures that last are found in moments that don’t. We collect them in moments and store them in memories, and those memories make us who we are. In the end, that’s all that will be left of us. After that, nothing. All treasures will finally be offered up for safekeeping in an unshakable storehouse—every life eventually exists only as a memory in the mind of God.

Today was a treasure in the making. Each of my boys approached me about being baptized in the last few months, and my conversations with each of them became a conversation with all of them, a conversation they continued with each other. God saw fit call forth three brothers together, to give them a treasure whose value will only appreciate in days and years to come in the most salient memory that makes them who they are as children of God, as brothers in Christ. Each processed it, and received it, in their own way—Kezek was pierced, Ryser was awed, and Maccabee spilled out all over the place in the joy of our salvation.



I suppose the only memory that could ever possibly surpass it would be made the day, should they have the unspeakable privilege, that they baptize their own children. Today I remembered my own baptism more profoundly and potently than the day it happened. Today my children found a treasure and I received an inheritance. Today we buried a memory in the mind of God, together, and because of the memory it was and the God he is, one day God will dig it up, and with it the untold number of children who share it, into an eternal moment in the land of the living.



“Repent and be baptized every one of you in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of your sins, and you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit. This promise is for you and for your children and for all who are far off, everyone whom the Lord our God calls to himself” (Acts 2:38-39).

Dear Pastor, You Are Not the Victim Here

—Cover photo for article in question, see link below.

https://www.christianitytoday.com/ct/2022/june-web-only/summer-mission-service-trips-when-being-helped-hurts.html?utm_medium=widgetsocial

Dear Anonymous Middle- and High School Youth Group from the “wealthier church” in a “wealthier town” who “gave up [your] afternoon camp activities….to serve” the many “needs” of a less wealthy church in an apparently less wealthy town:

On behalf of pastors with a different perspective and priorities than the pastor who wrote this article, for what it’s worth, I am sorry.

I’m sorry you have been publicly shamed by the pastor of this church. Since she did not have her article published anonymously (in the most widely read popular Christian magazine on earth), her words surely have or will find their way into your minds and hearts, and I suspect her moralizing criticisms at your gesture of love will be heard as disappointment and ingratitude and elicit feelings of shame and embarrassment, perhaps frustration and anger. You did not deserve public criticism from an adult, much less a Christian adult, much less a Christian pastor, for any mistakes or mishaps or deficiencies in your efforts to serve. She should have talked to you directly and immediately, giving you the chance to respond to her corrections, not about you publicly after it was too late to respond. to As a group of middle- and high school students, with leaders probably not much older, you should not have been expected to “paint…walls and the deck…the grid in the drop ceiling, tear out…bushes, put in a patio, plant flowers, clean out the yard, and put in new glass doors for the front entrance” without clear guidance and direction, and real-time correction when needed, throughout the process.

This pastor’s disappointment is the result of her unwillingness to communicate her expectations and to confront issues as they arose, not your supposedly “half-hearted” efforts. Rest assured that you did nothing to “violate” her or the members of her church. The fact that this pastor “felt violated” by your service says something about her, not about you. Nor are you responsible for her congregation’s sense of “worth.” The fact that she insinuated your service might have diminished their sense of worth because many of them “live with repeated rejection and abuse” was not only logically absurd but extremely inappropriate. You cannot, nor should you be expected, to carry the weight of a group of adults’ past abuses and rejections or present sense of worth. That’s theirs to carry, with the help of Jesus and trusted companions and counsellors, not yours—not a group of adolescents at the most critical and fragile stage in their own development of self-worth, who are trying their best just to figure out who they are in this world and, in this case, trying to do something good for a group of strangers. In spirit, however imperfectly, you did all that can ever be done to help people with their sense of worth. You served them, unsolicited, and gave them a clear gesture of love. I’m sorry she put that burden on you. I pray that Jesus will take it from you and from them as well.

I hope it does not sound patronizing or insincere to say it, but I’m proud of you. I pray that God would protect you from the barrage of curses that proceed from the mouths of fools in our culture, to which you are more exposed than any generation before you. You were made to live under the blessing of God and we, your elders—and especially pastors—are responsible for communicating God’s blessing toward you with our words and the attitude of our hearts. So, on behalf of a generation:

“May the Lord bless you and keep you;
the Lord make his face shine upon you and be gracious to you;
the Lord turn his face toward you and give you peace.”

Numbers 6:24-26

Dear Reverend Jennifer Holmes Curran, I implore you to consider the impact of your words on this group of young and highly impressionable kids, and to apologize to them for, at the very least, your carelessness. Your article intended to address the important subject of power dynamics between giver and receiver and the lasting impact of the givers’ gift, for good or for ill, but it ignored the power dynamics between pastors and youth and the lasting impact of your words, published internationally, against them. You cannot qualify your way out of the impact your words will have. You cannot claim to be “genuinely grateful” and feel “violated” in response to the same gesture. Much to your point, it’s not what you say—it’s what they hear, and all they will hear from your words and memory is disapproval. Furthermore, you cannot claim that you “don’t want to appear ungrateful” on account of it being “hard to correct the helper,” and then have your record of wrongs published for all the world to see after it’s too late for the helpers to correct any of them.

It’s one thing to be unwilling to confront people directly because you are uncomfortable with conflict, which is itself inexcusable as a pastor; it is quite another thing, as a pastor(!), to be unwilling to confront people directly and then proceed to slander them publicly, calling their motives and intentions into question to be tried in the court of public opinion, much less to do so in reference to a youth group. Surely you would not do the same to the youth of your church, had they done the same. Why do you think it is appropriate in this case? Is it because they come from a “wealthier church” in a “wealthier town?” That is a hell of a way to excuse yourself from the need for any nuance in a discussion about power dynamics. You, at any rate, were not a helpless victim in this power dynamic, nor did this “missions project” involve any linguistic or cultural barriers inhibiting you from clearly and constructively addressing your grievances in real-time. You are a pastor, and they are a youth group. They see you as their spiritual authority, and some of them may very well internalize your judgments as those of the God you have the terrible responsibility of representing as a pastor. So, for future reference, when you see a puddle from a paint can left on one of your tables, either clean it up yourself or kindly ask one of the kids or their leaders to, but don’t, for God’s sake, sit there and stare at it, brooding over it because it has “stayed there for days.” You are capable, you have agency, you are not powerless in this situation!

I think it needs to be pointed out how your framing of power dynamics in this article was misleading. You began in the very first line with a caricature obviously intended to frame the entire account in terms approximating the power dynamics between rich and poor. They are a “wealthier church from a larger, wealthier town” and you are a “small, rural church that has many needs.” Let’s be clear—this is not a story about rich people hurting poor people through a careless and insensitive “half-hearted” service project. You “needed” your deck painted and flowers planted, not food and water. And the pastor from that “wealthier church” you described as “throwing around…outrageous” amounts of “dollars,” obviously intending to reinforce the caricature of burdenless wealth and privilege, was not throwing money “around” without a care in the world. He was it at you! He was throwing all those outrageous amounts of dollars at you and your church, and doing so, by all appearances, with great care and generosity. And you took it, freely, in the form of materials and labor, and then turned around and painted a dishonorable picture of him and the youth he sent into your service, but also into your care. You are a pastor.

What I see in this situation is one church giving freely and another church assuming they’re entitled to more, or at least their pastor so assumes. But you weren’t entitled to any of it, so perhaps you should reconsider your attempts to put them into a debt of your victimhood.


Dear Victimhood Culture, you are a life-sucking parasite on our society and a mental illness to the American conscience. You imprison people in the deception of perceived powerlessness, all the while training them to use their victimhood to overpower others who ever live under the threat of being charged with any manner of abuse. You blind people from seeing how those who abuse their victim status are immune to criticism, are neither responsible nor accountable, and are forever entitled to the sympathy, or at least the pity, of others. You deceive many into thinking pity is not only a form of love but the highest form of love they can receive, and so you make them incapable of intimacy and ignorant of love. You obscure the lines between actual victims and perpetrators of abuse (who should be treated as such and for whom justice should be served) and those for whom victimhood has become an identity, sometimes because of a lifetime’s worth of unprocessed pain, sometimes because they have learned it to be an effective, and a socially acceptable, way to manipulate people. Those lines have become so obscured that the situation we find ourselves in today is a world where victims create perpetrators as much as perpetrators create victims.

When victimhood becomes an identity and unprocessed pain is detached from an identified cause or specific acts of abuse, everyone becomes a potential target of the victim. In our world, a person can wake up sad every morning and by early afternoon have found the one who “caused” their pain, without irony. They are pain looking for someone to blame, and no one is safe. You, Victimhood Culture, are the courtroom of wrongful convictions, creating false victims, hiding true ones, and damning all.


Dear Christianity Today, you should be ashamed of yourselves for publishing this. Your insistence on profiting from the clickbait market of social outrage, which nurtures the culture of victimhood that suckles its toxic milk, is dishonorable and compromises your integrity. You should know better. Find better material, and a new editorial staff.

“Make Disciples”—Said Jesus Never

Disciple Is A Verb

[For a sermon that explains the substance of this essay (and why it matters) in plain language, click here.]


The following essay considers the implications of a commonly accepted mistranslation of the Great Commission text for developing a misguided folk-missiology throughout many evangelical circles.

In a word: Jesus did not command his disciples to “make disciples of all the nations.” He commanded them to “disciple all the nations.” There is a world of difference in the natural reading of these two renderings, a difference that can indeed create two entirely different visions of the Church’s way of being in the world. I offer the following as a starting point for reflection on what may be regarded as an alternative vision to the the Great Commission based on an accurate rendering of its grammar.


1.     The Grammar of Discipleship

μαθητεύσατε πάντα τὰ ἔθνη (Mt. 28:19).

A cursory survey on the literature coming out of Protestant circles, both popular and academic, will quickly reveal The Great Commission in Matthew 28 to be a foundational text for how Protestants understand God’s global mission the Church’s role in it. But as it often happens with the most familiar texts of Scripture, the Great Commission is more often invoked than it is investigated, much less understood. It is regularly cited as the rationale or basis for any number of applications on the assumption that it is already well understood. But this is a mistake.

The importance of the Great Commission with regard to the topic of discipleship is undoubtedly due to (1) its unique placement at the closing of Matthew’s Gospel after Christ’s resurrection (the only post-resurrection appearance and address to his disciples in Matthew), (2) the universal claims of claims of his authority (“all authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me”), (3) and the corresponding universal scope of the role given his disciples (“disciple all the nations”) in perpetuity (“behold, I am with you always till the end of the age”). Given the obvious ecclesiological and missiological significance of the Great Commission text, it is surprising that the majority of English translations have erred on the side of imprecision in their rendering of the imperative (“disciple”), presumably for the sake of readability in light of the unique verbal usage of the word. It is, however, precisely because of its unique usage in the Great Commission text that precision should, it seems, be regarded as paramount. 

The majority of modern English translations render the imperative clause in the Great Commission to read thus: “Make disciples of all the nations…” (Mt. 28:19; cf. ESV, NASB, NIV, NLT, NRSV). In Greek, the word “make” is not present, and therefore “disciples” is not the object of the verb (command). Below are three reasons a translation that preserves the grammatical integrity of Jesus’ command in Matthew 28:19 is preferable. 

  1. The uniqueness of the verbal form of disciple, μαθητεύωto disciple.

In the New Testament the word “disciple” is found in its nominal form 285 times in 276 verses (BibleWorks). By contrast, it is only found twice in its participial form (Mt. 13:52; Acts 14:21) and twice in its (purely) verbal form: first, in Matthew’s burial account when Joseph of Arimathea, who “was discipled by Jesus” (Mt. 27:57, ἐμαθητεύθη, aorist passive indicative), procured Jesus’ body as those “who had followed Jesus from Galilee” now “watched from afar” (Mt. 27:55); the second and last time in the Great Commission text, which is the only time it is used in its specifically imperatival form in the entire New Testament. The Gospel of Matthew spends 28 chapters describing the identity of Jesus’ followers as “disciples,” and when it comes time for them be commissioned, the author transforms his usage of the word that had defined their identity in the Gospel into a command that defines their mission.[1]

  1. The use of the verb μαθητεύω, despite the availability of alternative options

There is no reason to think Koine Greek had no way of communicating the idea of people “making” other people something they otherwise were not by use of the word ordinarily translated make (pοιέω). There is precedent for this usage of pοιέω to communicate this idea in Matthew’s own Gospel account: καὶ λέγει αὐτοῖς δεῦτε ὀ opίσω μου, καὶ pοιήσω ὑμᾶς ἁλιεῖς ἀνθρώπων. (“And he said to them, ‘Follow me, ‘and I will make you fishers of men’”, Mt. 4:19). Another example of this construction in Matthew’s Gospel comes in a context that (tellingly) demonstrates the great potential for human-on-human malformation in the effort to “make converts”: Οὐαὶ ὑμῖν, γραμματεῖς καὶ Φαρισαῖοι ὑποκριταί, ὅτι περιάγετε τὴν θάλασσαν καὶ τὴν ξηρὰν ποιῆσαι ἕνα προσήλυτον, καὶ ὅταν γένηται ποιεῖτε αὐτὸν υἱὸν γεέννης διπλότερον ὑμῶν. (“Woe to you, Scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you cross the sea and dry land to make one convert (or proselyte / προσήλυτον), and when he becomes one, you make him twice as much a son of hell as yourselves”, Mt. 23:15). 

  1. Preserving the inner-logic of a sentence in translation depends on its grammar

The majority of the aforementioned English translations of Matthew 28:19 construe the verb-object relationship in some variant form the following: “make disciples of all nations.” The problem with this translation is that it construes the grammar of the Great Commission in a way that significantly alters its possible range of meanings and applications. Namely, it renders “disciples” as the object of the imperative “make,” which is then modified by the partitive genitive phrase, “of all the nations.” But in the grammar of the original text the imperative is not “make” and the object of the imperative is not “disciples.” Rather, the imperative is “disciple” (μαθητεύσατε) and the object of the imperative is “all the nations” (πάντα τὰ ἔθνη).

Translating texts from one language to another involves more than just finding the best lexical or conceptual equivalents of individual words or ideas. Preserving the grammar and syntax in translation is often critical for maintaining the inner-logic that dictates how words in a sentence relate one to another. “Feed all the visitors” and “make food of all the visitors,” for example, do not have the same range of implications and outcomes, say, for a cannibalistic tribe receiving written orders from their chief.


Disciple the Nations

A translation that preserves the grammatical integrity of Jesus’ command would simply read as follows: “disciple all the nations…” (μαθητεύσατε πάντα τὰ ἔθνη, cf. YLT; The New Testament: A Translation by David Bentley Hart). There are any number of implications that follow from turning the verb/command into the object of the verb/command in this text, not least of which is how it informs the way “baptizing” is understood to modify the verb. In Greek, the participles “baptizing…and teaching…” are not modifying the object of the verb “make” (suggesting they indicate how to make something out of the nations) but “disciple” (how to disciple the nations). In other words, the question is not What qualifies as a disciple? but rather What qualifies discipling? If the question is What qualifies a disciple? then the answer will have to draw a hard line between a disciple and not-a-disciple. That line, for many, is baptism.

The implications of translating Jesus’ command “make disciples of all nations” instead of “disciple the nations” is like the difference between being instructed to “make potatoes” and “water the plants,” or the difference between what Paul and Apollos did in Corinth and what God did in Corinth: “I planted, Apollos watered, but God gave the growth. So neither he who plants nor he who waters is anything, but only God who gives the growth” (1 Cor. 3:6-7). The former is focused on the product of discipleship, the latter on its process; the natural measure of success in the former is determined by the quantity of disciples made, the latter by the quality of discipling. The former orients the Church to valuing disciples, thus valuing non-disciples only according to their potential for becoming such. The latter orients the Church valuing the nations and therefore sets out to disciple them.

It is not hard, therefore, to imagine how the general concept of discipleship is understood among denominations that practice “believer’s baptism” (such as my own, the C&MA) to consist of two distinct components that are, practically speaking, unequal in importance and priority—first: Christian conversion (baptism), second: Christian education (teaching). Of first importance in the “making” process is getting people over the hard line of conversion—from not-a-disciple to a disciple—the mark of which is baptism. Second, then, is educating them in matters of faith and practice. This second component of discipleship, it is safe to say, is generally regarded to be less important, presumably because the failure to sufficiently educate a person with the status of “disciple” (or “Christian”—the conflation of these terms is common, and telling) does not bear the same consequences as the failure to convert a person into that status.

Given the observation above from Jesus’ “prophetic woes” in Matthew 23, it worth serious consideration that the only time Matthew (or the rest of the New Testament authors) refers to “making converts” is to describe the extensive proselyting efforts of Scribes and Pharisees that results in converting people into “twice [the] child[ren] of hell” they are (Mt. 23:15). While conversion is a legitimate concept to describe a person coming into the faith, only Jesus can determine who is truly his disciple, or not (cf. Jn. 8:31). The Church’s job is not to make that determination but to do what Jesus commanded to do, trusting that he will accomplish his will through it. As such, the place of conversion in relation to the Church’s responsibility to disciple the nations must not be unduly reified into (one of) the terms of discipleship such that it gets conflated or confused with the meaning and function of baptism. 

If the question the Great Commission implicitly raises is not What qualifies a disciple? but rather What qualifies discipling? then the answer is it provides is concerned with the action of the discipling community, not the status of a would-be disciple. It qualifies what constitutes a true discipling community and only derivatively what constitutes true disciple.


The Setting of Discipleship & The Journey of Disciples

The first post-Easter worship gathering was 65-mile miles away from where Jesus was, and where the disciples were, on Easter morning—Jerusalem, just outside the city gates (Heb. 13:12). The two Marys came to “see the tomb” where Jesus had been laid to earth but instead saw an angel descend from heaven. The angel said, in effect, come and see nothing, then go and tell his disciples something: the tomb is empty, the Lord is risen. Not just that, he told them to tell them to go to Galilee—they had a meeting—and Jesus was already on his way. He was going before them, so they would see him upon arrival. So the two Marys went to tell them, and on their way they saw Jesus. He met them on the road. They worshiped him, and he sent them to go with the same instructions. This time he called “his disciples” “my brothers.” He had never called them that before. So Jesus’ disciples-become-brothers left the Holy City, walked 65 miles to hear a three verse sending sermon, after which they would have to walk 65 miles back to go to the people to whom they were sent. That is a 130-mile detour to go from point A to point A. Why would Jesus tell them to go and meet him there instead of stay and meet him here?

Two reasons seem likely. First, he met them on the mountain. Neither Jesus nor the angel had said anything about where exactly in Galilee they would see him, just that they would see him there—in a 1,341 square mile region with a population ranging anywhere from four hundred thousand to three million.[2] Presumably, then, “the mountain to which Jesus directed them” (τὸ ὄρος οὗ ἐτάξατο αὐτοῖς ὁ Ἰησοῦς) either refers to (1) a detail left out in the instruction to the Marys that Matthew included here (i.e., that he indicated which mountain to meet them and instructed her to tell them) or (2) to a mountain of some special significance they would have intuitively expected to meet him (like a person receiving an invitation from the President to “come see me at the House in D.C.” and thus going to the White House to meet him). The latter is more plausible.

In fact, the most natural reading of the phrase “where Jesus instructed them” (οὗ ἐτάξατο αὐτοῖς ὁ Ἰησοῦς) is not, in effect, “where Jesus instructed them to meet him” (referring to a future meeting) but simply “where Jesus instructed (or appointed) them” (a past meeting). The word “instructed” or “appointed” (ἐτάξατο—3rd person aorist indicative, though most translations take liberties in rendering it in the perfect aspect, e.g, “had directed”) means to “bring about order” or “put in place” and often refers to being “put under someone’s command” (BDAG), as in the examples in BDAG of the man who has soldiers “under [him], who says to this man go and he goes…” (Mt. 8:9’ Lk. 7:8)[3]

So the disciples, in all likelihood, went to the mountain in Galilee, the original point A, the place they were first organized, where they first gathered as a distinct group of disciples, and precisely as those gathered around a new teaching with authority: “Seeing the crowds, he went up on the mountain, and when he sat down, his disciples came to him. And he opened his mouth and taught them, saying: ‘Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven’” (Matt. 5:1-3 ESV). Jesus met them on the mountain where he began discipling them, no doubt because it situated them in the proper frame of reference for understanding the commission they were about to receive—to disciple all the nations—recapitulating Jesus’ way of discipling them as a principle model for discipling others. It was there that he first taught them to obey all he commanded, and thus provided the “curriculum” for teaching others to obey all he commanded.

The second reason has less to do with where he met them and more to do with where he did not meet them. They had to leave Jerusalem to receive the Great Commission because they would have to leave Jerusalem to fulfill the Great Commission. In other words, Jerusalem, the holy city of the Jewish dynasty, was not going to be the center toward which God’s kingdom purposes would be directed, but rather the center from which God’s kingdom purposes would be directed (cf. Acts 1:4, 8).  This, it is safe to say, was a disorienting prospect.

Prior to his death and resurrection, there is no shortage of evidence suggesting the disciples’ expectation of Jesus as the Christ (or Messiah) and Jesus’ expectations of himself as such were, quite literally, worlds apart, particularly with regard to the promised “kingdom” that they were expecting and Jesus was inaugurating.[4] Their vision of the kingdom was rightly bound to Israel’s history but wrongly restricted by historical precedent. Their model king was David, who had first established the borders of the Promise Land, and they simply did not have the categories to understand where much of Jesus’ teaching about the kingdom fit. Their categories were bound by precedent and thus could not open to promise. In a word, they were right about the Man, wrong about the mission, right about the Christ, wrong about the kingdom (see especially Mt. 16:13-28).[5] 

Jesus’ claim of universal authority corresponded with a commission of universal scope. If “all authority in heaven and on earth” had been given to Jesus, “all the nations” of the earth had been given to the reign of his kingdom. But his kingdom did not advance through colonial expansion. It was a kingdom that somehow fit within all nations that nevertheless belonged to Him, something more like cities scattered on the hills (Mt. 5:14) than nations trampled underfoot (Ps. 47:3; 63:80). In Frederick Bruner’s words, “’All nations’ deparochializes disciples and makes them world persons; and it ecumenicalizes them and introduces them to the worldwide church” (Bruner, 819).

Jesus had described such a vision the first time they met on that mountain in “Galilee of the nations,” as the prophet Isaiah referred to it, describing the eschatological setting in which “a child” would be born, “a Son” would be given, the “increase of [whose] government and of peace there [would] be no end,” indeed, in whose single name the “Mighty God” of creation would be known in an altogether new way as “Everlasting Father,” “Prince of Peace,” and “Wonderful Counselor” (Isa. 9:1-7). It is fitting, then, that on this mount in Galilee, where they first were taught to pray, scandalously if not seemingly blasphemously (Jn. 10:31-39), “Our Father…”, that they would be sent to “all the nations, baptizing them in the name,” echoing what Isaiah described, “of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.”


[1] The myriad of questions that could arise about the unique usage of form of this word, especially given the context in which it is used, not to mention the tremendous influence the Great Commission has on Christian thought and practice throughout the English-speaking world, should be grounds enough for preserving its grammatical integrity. But the questions can never be answered if they are never asked.

[2] Bible Dictionaries Hastings’ Dictionary of the New Testament > Galilee

[3] So, e.g., Davies and Allison, 3:681. Contra France, 1110, who argues we would have expected to see διδάσκω (to teach) instead of τάσσω on the basis that the mountain in Galilee where he first “taught” them (i.e., the Sermon on the Mount) would have more naturally been described in such terms (teaching). But (a) Matthew may very well be intentionally framing the scene in terms authority—the kind of peaceful authority had had demonstrated over them from the day he began to nevertheless teach them as one with authority (e.g, “you have heard it said…but I say…”, Mt. 5:21ff)—the full extent of which they are about to hear him announce (“all authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me” (Mt. 28:18); and (b), oddly enough, he also argues against the notion that Matthew is suggesting they had been instructed to meet them at a particular mountain, recognizing such a rendering cannot be justified in Greek, so he just suggests it was a general mountain in Galilee they went to where they waited “for Jesus to take the initiative to meet with them.” Such an assumption may be an attempt to be conservative in interpretation, but it does not do justice to the humanity of the characters. It is safe to assume they, like any real human being given such general instructions, would have gone to the place would have gone to the meeting place most significant in shared memory of both parties involved.

[4] E.g., the disciples arguing over who would be “greatest in the kingdom of heaven” (Mt. 18:1-3); James and John attempting to secure coregent positions of power by “grant[ing them] to sit, one at [his] right hand and one at [his] left” once he assumed the throne in the pattern of Gentile rulers (Mk. 10:35-45); or, most emphatically (and ironically), Simon Peter, the first of the disciples to explicitly name Jesus as the Messiah, “the Christ” (Mt. 16:16)—and so Jesus names his the “Rock” (Peter)—only to turn around and “rebuke” Jesus when he revealed the job description he was bound to precisely as the Christ (“From that time Jesus began to show his disciples that he must go to Jerusalem and suffer many things from the elders and chief priests and scribes, and be killed, and on the third day be raised”; Mt. 16:21)—and so Jesus, in turn, names him “Satan” (“Get behind me, Satan! You are a hindrance to me. You are not setting your mind on the things of God, but on the things of man”; Mt. 16:23).

[5] And if there were any doubt that confusions still persisted after the resurrection (and the Great Commission for that matter), the disciples’ question and Jesus’ answer in the opening of Acts seems make clear that they were still confused and provide insight into the nature of their confusions. Acts begins with a summary of Jesus’ ministry to the disciples prior to his ascension, indicating that he “appear[ed] to them during forty days…speaking about the kingdom of God” (Acts 1:3) and telling them to wait for the promised of the Father—“you will be baptized with the Holy Spirit” (Acts 1:4-5). The first words out of the disciples’ mouths, directly following this summary, we are told, “when they had come together, they asked him, ‘Lord, will you at this time restore the kingdom to Israel” (Acts 1:6). The confusion, it seems, is that they could not distinguish the “kingdom of God” as Jesus taught had described it from the “kingdom of Israel” as they had expected it. So Jesus, instead of answering their misguided question and all its inherent assumptions, responded thus, “It is not for you to know times or seasons that the Father has fixed by his own authority. But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you, and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the end of the earth” (Acts 1:6-8).

The Terror of Easter

The Body of the Dead Christ in the Tomb by Hans Holbein the Younger

“Religion is the opiate of the masses.”

~ Karl Marx

I used to think this claim had at least some merit. And I suppose to the degree a given religion gets reduced to wishful thinking about some version of an upgraded “afterlife,” Marx is right. But no religion reduces itself to such platitudes, despite what its adherents might at a popular level. And as for the claims of the the Gospel, and specifically the resurrection of the dead, I’m left to conclude precisely the opposite: atheism is the opiate of the masses.

If Jesus stays in the tomb, it means that the world can continue on its course, unaccountable, free of any absolutes–other than death–and so we can shrug off that nagging Voice of our conscience without consequence. If Jesus stays in the tomb, there is no Lord to answer to, no Voice from without, only fleeting, if competing, echoes from within, and at any rate all voices are moving toward a finality of silence. All fades to black.

That, to me at least, seems much easier to deal with than the prospect of the destruction of death itself, of darkness itself, the prospect that I will be raised from the dead into a light that will expose the truth behind all my words and deeds and the thoughts and intentions of my heart (Mk. 4:22; Lk. 12:2; Jn. 3:19-21; 1 Cor. 3:13; Heb. 4:12-13; et al). It’s much easier to imagine death brings a certain finality to all that I have done and not done, said and not said, all that I have thought and intended, to all the willfully missed opportunities to love and help and give and forgive, to my violence, my greed, my self-indulgence, my insistence that ‘my will be done.’

Practically speaking, I confess there are many days my will seems to dominate all inner dialogue and decision making, with little to no second thought of Another will, another Voice, so the thought that I do indeed have a Lord who will greet me in judgment to examine the substance of my confession—Jesus Christ is Lord—is, quite frankly, unsettling. The thought he warned that not all who confess him as Lord truly know him as Lord, and therefore don’t know him at all, properly terrifying.

I can’t help but think it would be far easier to make peace with death if I could anticipate a closure to all of my deeds and misdeeds, rather than anticipating that my life and my will and my secret thoughts and intentions are wide open to an eternal future, a future in which I am decidedly not Lord and death is not an option, a future from which that nagging Voice I’ve so often ignored has, all along, been issued from a throne, a throne that alone is Absolute.


There was terror that first Easter (Mt. 28:1-10; Mk. 16:1-8; Lk. 24:36-43). And I suppose we shouldn’t be surprised. The world has lost its autonomy. Death no longer affords any escape routes. Life is laid bare to an infinite existence that we know now only as a Voice, and often just a faint Whisper, but then we shall see Him face to face. And thank the living God that on that day we will stand in his presence only by grace.

What a glorious—what a terrifying—day tomorrow will be.


“Then I turned to see the Voice that was speaking to me…and when I saw Him, I fell as though dead” (Rev. 1:12-17).

In the Mirror of Mortality: My Only Comfort in Life & in Death

Last night, as Daniel Frederick was about to put the sign of the cross on my forehead, Radley ran up to me and asked if she could do it. (I had put the mark on her moments earlier.) I agreed, somewhat unsure whether I should. I don’t know which was more heart-wrenching, me telling my daughter “from dust you came, to dust you shall return” or having her mark my forehead and repeat after me those same words to remind me of my own mortality. But I do know we both walked out of the sanctuary hand-in-hand, fingertips black, not merely with the mark of our own mortality but with Christ’s—and if marked with his death, so also with his life. In the world such as it is, a world where every father and daughter will one day say a final goodbye, that mark is my only comfort in life and in death #ashwednesday #mementomori

—Picture of the sunset during the Ash Wednesday Service