Bold Love
Imagine you live in first century Israel. The Romans have a stranglehold on the area. Most of your people live in poverty. You jumped at an opportunity to make a decent living – collecting taxes from your own people for the Romans. You’re a traitor in the eyes of your people. They despise you. The Romans treat you like a loyal pet when you meet their quota, much worse when you fall short. Even rabbis avoid eye contact with you. Your friends show up when the wine is flowing, then fade away as the coffers run dry. It’s a lonely existence.
Then one day, this rabbi, the one who was healing paralytics and cleansing lepers, locked eyes with you. He saw you. He looked past the job, the labels, and your self-disdain, and he saw you, and said, “Follow me.” You were so excited by his acceptance that you threw a party for all your fellow down-and-out tax collectors and drinking buddies to meet him. Then you left everything to follow him.
For three years, you watched him challenge the status quo, heal the sick, cast out demons, and even raise the dead. He taught with such authority. In time, you realized this rabbi was the long-awaited Messiah. He was the Son of God. He was God Incarnate.
You watched your own people arrest him on trumped-up charges, convict him in a mock trial, and ask the Romans to execute him. You saw the Romans crucify him. You waited in the Upper Room. You were there when Mary reported his resurrection. You saw the risen Jesus. You received the Great Commission.
Then a few decades later, God anoints you to write an account of the Gospel. In fact, He anoints you to write the opening words of the New Testament. You will write this Gospel for your own people, who with the Romans are legally and officially hunting, torturing, and killing those who follow Jesus. They will be know who wrote this Gospel.
Where do you start?
Do you ease into the introduction?
Do you take care not to offend?
This is an important message.
But is it worth risking your life?
Is it worth endangering your family?
That’s what Matthew faced.
The risks were extraordinary.
The rewards more so.
We like to talk about the courage and reckless nature of Peter. But when given the opportunity, Matthew didn’t wade into the shallow end. He overcame whatever personal fears and family concerns existed and cannon-balled into the deep end with, not one, but three bold execution-worthy proclamations of who Jesus is in the very first sentence of his Gospel. Perhaps that’s why God put his Gospel first – to launch the New Testament with three undeniable and unmistakable claims to the glory and lordship of Jesus in the very first sentence.
Matthew came out of the gate proclaiming Jesus as the Christ, the son of David, & the son of Abraham. First century Jews would have interpreted -
“Christ” as the anointed king
“Son of David” as the one who would establish an eternal Kingdom (2 Sam. 7:16)
“Son of Abraham” as the offspring of Abraham through whom all nations would be blessed. (Genesis 12:3)
This man, Matthew, risked his life by opening the New Testament with three bold proclamations, any one of which could have initiated his execution, and we barely notice. Most of the twenty-first century church has missed it. We barely skim the first sentence. In our ministry, we recently asked dozens of Bible studies full of men how the Gospel of Matthew starts, and almost every man shrugged or referred to the lineage of Jesus.
By missing details like this, we lose the inspiration to boldly proclaim the Gospel when the costs to do so rise. It’s no longer only Middle Eastern Muslims who wish to silence the Gospel. It’s neighbors, co-workers, politicians, attorneys, radicals, and even family members. Like Matthew, we are not called to take up arms, to hate, or retaliate. But neither are we called to silently turn the other cheek, serve without speaking, or accept the sins of those who identify as their sin as normal and wholesome without sharing truth.
There’s no evidence that Matthew was confrontational, mean, judgmental, or harsh. Ever. But he was bold. When given the opportunity to proclaim the identity, goodness, and grace of his Lord and Savior, he wasn’t wishy-washy. He didn’t bow to politically correct expectations, and he didn’t bow to physical threats. He was, and is, a light in the darkness. And his light was unapologetically aimed at Jesus. He was more concerned with Jesus’ story than his own. His reputation, his legacy, was and forever will be one of proclaiming the Gospel of Jesus Christ.
Each week, you encounter people who desperately need to hear the Gospel of Jesus Christ. Some may be struggling with addiction. Others may be overwhelmed by circumstances. Some may be hungry, proud, fearful, or just lost. Some will be indifferent. Some could be hostile. You’ll crave respect from some, acceptance from others, and love from the closest. Your fear of rejection may be paralyzing. You think you know what they’ll say, though you’re afraid to find out. So, you withhold the most valuable thing you have to offer. You withhold the one and only thing that could change their lives for all of eternity. You just don’t trust God that much.
I know. I’ve been there. Still get there… far more often than I’d like to admit.
But you and I have been entrusted to share the most important message in the history of the world – the Gospel of Jesus Christ. We’ve largely left that responsibility to the professional clergy and evangelists and look how that’s turning out. Unbelievers are committing suicide in record numbers. Babies are being killed by the hundreds of thousands. Children are being burdened with responsibilities for decisions they were never meant to make. Our own loved ones are dying without anyone boldly professing the Gospel to them.
That’s not on someone else. We’ve put our light under a basket because those in darkness complained. I’m not sure what to call that, but it’s not love. It’s not love to compromise truth in the name of acceptance. It’s not love to choose silence when people around us are dying without hearing. It’s not love to procrastinate for years while we claim to be building rapport. It’s certainly not bold love to be intimidated by those who proudly and fearfully protect their own thrones against One who wishes to give them so much more than they will ever achieve on their own. It’s certainly not bold love to bow to foolishness rather than risk rejection.
I’m scared. I’m scared of what the future of the Church in America will be. I fear what my grandchildren might face if we bow in silence. Though, I don’t think the answer is revolution. I’m not sure it will be unveiled in any great united show of strength or faith. I think the answer lies in believers, one-by-one and two-by-two, prayerfully hearing God say, “fear not,” stepping forward, and communicating the Gospel of Jesus Christ through actions AND words.
Yes, actions are important. We need to love and serve and care for those in need. But there’s a reason Jesus is called the “Word of God” rather than the “Act of God.” We prefer serving rather than telling because people are less likely to reject our acts of kindness than our proclamations. But acts of kindness alone will not change one person’s eternity. Our loved ones and those around us need to HEAR the Gospel of Jesus Christ.
If you don’t know how, seek help. The professional clergy are tasked first and foremost in equipping believers to grow in our faith and share the Gospel of Jesus Christ.
But let’s be honest. It’s not a question of competence. It’s a question of courage, and courage is not the absence of fear, but the willingness to act in the face of fear. Since God called us to love boldly, and Jesus showed us how, it’s ultimately a question of faith.