CHAPTER 15

Matthew 11:2–30

LISTEN to the Story

²When John, who was in prison, heard about the deeds of the Messiah, he sent his disciples ³to ask him, “Are you the one who is to come, or should we expect someone else?”

⁴Jesus replied, “Go back and report to John what you hear and see: ⁵The blind receive sight, the lame walk, those who have leprosy are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the good news is proclaimed to the poor. ⁶Blessed is anyone who does not stumble on account of me.”

⁷As John’s disciples were leaving, Jesus began to speak to the crowd about John: “What did you go out into the wilderness to see? A reed swayed by the wind? ⁸If not, what did you go out to see? A man dressed in fine clothes? No, those who wear fine clothes are in kings’ palaces. ⁹Then what did you go out to see? A prophet? Yes, I tell you, and more than a prophet. ¹⁰This is the one about whom it is written:

‘I will send my messenger ahead of you,

who will prepare your way before you.’

¹¹Truly I tell you, among those born of women there has not risen anyone greater than John the Baptist; yet whoever is least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he. ¹²From the days of John the Baptist until now, the kingdom of heaven has been subjected to violence, and violent people have been raiding it. ¹³For all the Prophets and the Law prophesied until John. ¹⁴And if you are willing to accept it, he is the Elijah who was to come. ¹⁵Whoever has ears, let them hear.

¹⁶“To what can I compare this generation? They are like children sitting in the marketplaces and calling out to others:

¹⁷‘We played the pipe for you,

and you did not dance;

we sang a dirge,

and you did not mourn.’

¹⁸For John came neither eating nor drinking, and they say, ‘He has a demon.’ ¹⁹The Son of Man came eating and drinking, and they say, ‘Here is a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners.’ But wisdom is proved right by her deeds.”

²⁰Then Jesus began to denounce the towns in which most of his miracles had been performed, because they did not repent. ²¹“Woe to you, Chorazin! Woe to you, Bethsaida! For if the miracles that were performed in you had been performed in Tyre and Sidon, they would have repented long ago in sackcloth and ashes. ²²But I tell you, it will be more bearable for Tyre and Sidon on the day of judgment than for you. ²³And you, Capernaum, will you be lifted to the heavens? No, you will go down to Hades. For if the miracles that were performed in you had been performed in Sodom, it would have remained to this day. ²⁴But I tell you that it will be more bearable for Sodom on the day of judgment than for you.”

²⁵At that time Jesus said, “I praise you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you have hidden these things from the wise and learned, and revealed them to little children. ²⁶Yes, Father, for this is what you were pleased to do.

²⁷“All things have been committed to me by my Father. No one knows the Son except the Father, and no one knows the Father except the Son and those to whom the Son chooses to reveal him.

²⁸“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. ²⁹Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. ³⁰For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”

Listening to the Text in the Story: Genesis 18:16–19:29; Deuteronomy 21:18–23; Job 28:12–28; Psalm 8:2; Proverbs 1:20–33; 8:1–21, 32–36; Isaiah 14:13–15; 23:1–18; 29:14; 35:1–10; 42:1–7; 61:1–3; Jeremiah 6:16; Lamentations 5:4–5; Ezekiel 26:2–28:24; Malachi 3:1–5; 4:1–6; Sirach 51:23–30; Wisdom of Solomon 9:1–18.

What do you do when faithfulness to the Lord doesn’t pay off? You’ve done everything right, and yet you don’t get the desired result. What happens next? This is a chapter about unrequited desire and the frustration that so easily comes when things don’t work out like they should.

John the Baptist did his job. God sent him to Israel to warn them that the day of the Lord had dawned on them. That meant judgment, just as the prophets of old had predicted.¹ Like Isaiah, the Baptizer compared the upcoming judgment of God to someone taking an ax to the roots of a tree (Matt 3:10; Isa 6:13). But John didn’t think he was strong enough to wield the ax. The great oak of Israel would be felled by someone “more powerful than I” (Matt 3:11), the prophet of God who was supposed to come to baptize the people in the consuming fire of God’s Spirit, gathering the harvest before “burning up the chaff with unquenchable fire” (v. 12). It’s not that God was finished with Israel. As Job said, “At least there is hope for a tree: If it is cut down, it will sprout again, and its new shoots will not fail” (Job 14:7). Isaiah believed the same: “A shoot will come up from the stump of Jesse; from his roots a Branch will bear fruit. The Spirit of the Lord will rest on him—the Spirit of wisdom and understanding” (Isa 11:1–2). To make that happen, the only thing John could do was preach repentance, offer water baptism, and wait for God. So when Jesus showed up in the wilderness, looking to be baptized by the prophet who wore the garments of Elijah, John knew he wouldn’t have to wait any longer for the coming one. In fact, John hoped that Jesus would start with him, baptizing him with the consuming fire of God’s Spirit, since judgment begins with the house of God (Matt 3:14). But John still had to play his part. He baptized Jesus in water, God baptized Jesus with his Spirit, and the heavenly voice confirmed the event: God was “well pleased” with his beloved Son (v. 17). John should have thought the same about himself. God must certainly have been pleased with him because he did his job, and this should have been a comforting thought to a prophet who was thrown in prison because he obeyed God (4:12).

But God’s judgment didn’t come. Instead, Jesus seemed bent on showing the mercy of God. Rather than fast like John’s disciples, Jesus joined the party. Instead of withdrawing to the desert, Jesus went to town. After a while, it became obvious to everyone that John and Jesus took very different approaches to preparing for the imminent day of the Lord. “John came neither eating nor drinking,” while the Son of Man did the opposite (Matt 11:18–19). In fact, you couldn’t find two prophets who devoted their lives to God more differently than John and Jesus. Yet they were supposed to be working together to bring Israel back to God. Of course, we’ve seen this before; we find a synergistic method to their madness: the ol’ “bad cop, good cop” routine. But that’s not the way the prophets of old worked the system. To them, no trickery was necessary, especially when it came to obeying God. Israel needed to get right or get left—kings as well as commoners. That’s the way John saw it too. There was no time for playing games. Tell it to the people straight. This was a matter of life and death. Indeed, John knew that better than anyone, waiting in Herod’s prison for judgment day.

EXPLAIN the Story

Is it any wonder that John sent a few of his disciples to Jesus because he wanted to know, “Are you the one who is to come, or should we expect someone else?” (Matt 11:3)? When you’re about to die for a cause—especially because of a cause—there should be no doubts. John’s entire life led to this moment. Everything he worked for, everything he said would only matter if Jesus did what he was supposed to do and say. The significance of John’s life depended on Jesus. If Jesus let him down, if he didn’t turn out to be “the one,” then John must have wondered: “Am I about to die for the wrong man? Is there someone else? Is there enough time? Will I live to see the day—the day I predicted had come? Isn’t it time for Malachi 3–4 to come true? Am I the messenger? Is Jesus the ‘coming one’? Or, am I wrong? Did I miss something?” Then again, I’m probably presuming too much here, projecting onto John the typical “identity crisis” of twenty-first-century Westerners. Yet there must have been some concern, some question in John’s mind, for why else would he send his disciples to ask Jesus, “Are you the one?”² Notice, however, it wasn’t John’s identity that mattered here. The issue was the identity of Jesus—a question that hangs over the entire narrative of Matthew’s Gospel—because who Jesus is determines not only the significance of John but also Matthew, the rest of the Twelve, and anyone who has eyes to read or ears to hear the Gospel. “Blessed is anyone who does not stumble on account of me” (Matt 11:6).

Having Ears to Hear Prophecy

Jesus was in a difficult spot. John was the first to “believe” in Jesus. The Baptizer announced his arrival. He prepared the way for the Messiah. Yet now Jesus has to respond to John’s doubts while a crowd eavesdrops on their long-distance conversation. Evidently, it was “the deeds of the Messiah” that troubled Herod’s prisoner—deeds that up to this point had inspired the crowds to celebrate the work of God (Matt 9:8, 33). It seems, however, that John didn’t like what he was hearing. What was Jesus supposed to do? Perhaps he should set the record straight for the benefit of the crowd, blasting John for his impertinence: “How dare he question my authority?” Yet a rift between the two might be troublesome. In light of the well-known eschatological timetable (17:10–13), what would it say about Jesus if he implied that John wasn’t the forerunner of the Messiah? Furthermore, casting doubt on John’s identity would be risky; the people were convinced that the Baptizer was a prophet of God (21:26). So, was John right or not? At the same time, shoring up John’s reputation would be beneficial to Jesus’s mission. If Jesus took advantage of the opportunity and worked to convince the crowd that John was “Elijah” (and therefore, by implication, that he himself was the Messiah), it might settle the issue in the minds of the people. That kind of approach, however, doesn’t sound like Jesus at all; he never tried to coax the people into approving of him. Jesus knew who he was (and certainly he knew who John was: “He is the Elijah who was to come” [11:14]). Jesus had no doubts about John, but John—the one who was supposed to identify the Messiah—had doubts about Jesus. To say the least, John’s question placed Jesus on the horns of a dilemma. Reprimand John or build him up? Assure John’s disciples or persuade the crowd?

Most of what Jesus said that day was directed to the crowd (vv. 7–30). He gave a rather brief response to John’s question, never answering it directly (vv. 4–5). John’s disciples were to report everything they had seen and heard from Jesus. That’s it. He didn’t say, “Go tell John not to worry. I am the one.” Instead, he left it to the Baptizer to figure it out. Indeed, it’s the way Jesus paraphrased his mission that reveals his presumption: John should recognize the prophecies of Isaiah coming true through Jesus (see Isa 26:19; 35:1–10; 42:1–7; 61:1–3). Listing his deeds—blind see, lame walk, lepers are cleansed, deaf hear, dead are raised, poor get good news—was all that needed to be said because prophets recognize prophecy. Jesus counted on John to hear the voice of Scripture when the disciples reported what they heard and saw. At the same time, Jesus issued a veiled warning in the form of a beatitude—not only for John and his disciples but for the crowd as well: “Blessed is anyone who does not stumble on account of me” (Matt 11:6). Jesus knew he would offend many. He certainly wasn’t what John, his disciples, or anyone else expected. Yet Jesus didn’t seem to be too concerned about John getting it right; he left it to the Baptizer to infer that he was “the one who is to come.” It was the crowd that needed to be straightened out about several things, not only about prophecies fulfilled but also about the nasty rumors circulating among the people concerning John and Jesus (vv. 7–19).

After John’s disciples left, Jesus turned his attention to the crowd and began to scold them for their imperceptiveness (vv. 7–14). He questioned their motives for trekking out to the desert (approximately a two-day trip for most Galileans) to see the phenomenon called “the Baptizer.” They didn’t go to hear prophecy. They went to see a prophet, which is why Jesus belittled them for their sightseeing adventure. “What did you expect to see, huh? You didn’t go all the way to the Jordan to see reeds bending in the desert winds, did you? Looking for a prophet fit for a palace, like one of Herod’s advisors?³ Hardly. You wanted to see a real prophet, dressed like Elijah. Well, guess what. You can tell everyone you saw him—not just any prophet but the one who was prophesied to prepare the way for God.⁴ Yet this is what really matters: it’s not what you saw; it’s what you heard. Did you hear him? He’s the greatest prophet that ever lived, so you better listen to him! For, if you did, you would know that all Scripture has pointed to this moment. God’s reign has come near to you. But it doesn’t come through violence. That’s what Herod⁵ or the Zealots would have you think. The kingdom of heaven isn’t for those who wield swords. No. The kingdom of heaven is for those who have ears to hear the Prophets as well as the Law because everything they predicted is coming true. Don’t you see? This means the weakest, most insignificant person in the kingdom—God’s kingdom—is greater than the greatest prophet who ever lived. Anybody got ears? You better use them. Since John was Elijah, what does that say about you?”

That’s my paraphrase of Jesus’s compact retort—a reading that depends upon several interpretive decisions. For example, what did Jesus mean by the phrase “a reed swayed by the wind” (11:7)? Was he speaking literally (as I have it), or was Jesus referring metaphorically to spineless prophets? Why did Jesus say, “From the days of John the Baptist until now, the kingdom of heaven has been subjected to violence, and violent people have been raiding it” (v. 12)? Does “from the days of John the Baptist” refer to John’s birthday or the beginning of his ministry? In other words, was Jesus talking about the violence of Herod the Great or of his son, Herod Antipas? There’s even some question about the translation “has been subjected to violence.” The verb could also be translated as an intensive middle, “is coming forcefully,” which could refer to the power of Jesus’s ministry. If that were the case, then Jesus would be claiming that ever since John’s baptism, the kingdom of heaven has been invading earth through the power of his miraculous deeds (healing the sick, raising the dead, etc.), while at the same time there are also “violent men” (Herod or the Zealots) who were trying to take it by force.⁶ Finally, what’s the implication of Jesus’s claim that “all the Prophets and the Law prophesied until John” (v. 13)? Was Jesus drawing a clear eschatological line in the sand, relegating the Baptizer to the old age, separated from the new age of his messianic kingdom? Moreover, what about the Law? Does this mean that Jesus set up an expiration date? Had the Law and the Prophets done their job so that it was time to set them aside since the new age of the kingdom had come?⁷ Or, is it more likely that Jesus is claiming what Matthew has been showing all along: that the fulfillment of Scripture is a sure indication that this was a unique time in Israel’s history—that all of God’s promises were coming true in Jesus?

However we answer these questions, one thing is evident: as Jesus was making claims about John, Matthew was making claims about Jesus, tying together the significance of their tandem ministry.⁸ The way Matthew saw it, whoever had ears to hear “Elijah” would recognize the Messiah. Consequently, those who dismissed one would dismiss the other—something Jesus noticed about “this generation” (Matt 11:16–19). These people had ears to hear, all right. But they were listening to the scuttlebutt about John and Jesus rather than listening to them. Certainly, John and Jesus were the odd couple: the ascetic and the feaster—two extremes at opposite ends. Therefore, one would think that people would be attracted to one instead of the other. Yet that wasn’t the case. Evidently, some (many? most?) people dismissed both of them. The only people who really liked Jesus were tax collectors and sinners. John may have baptized many, but he had only a few disciples—John was little more than a curiosity to the masses (vv. 7–9). So even though the Baptizer was a phenomenon, the people began to attribute John’s odd behavior to a demon. They thought that only a malevolent power would drive a man to take fasting to such extremes, punishing his body. And what about Jesus and his carousing? Well, the same group dismissed him as a rebellious son, nothing more than a “glutton and a drunkard” (v. 19).⁹ They must have thought, “No wonder the man loves hanging out with people who can’t control themselves. Only sinners welcome sinners.” Whether saint or sinner, the crowd couldn’t be pleased.

According to Jesus, what the people thought about him and John said more about them than it did about him and the Baptizer. But it’s difficult to tell if Jesus was criticizing “this generation” for their apathy or for being fickle (v. 16). It depends on identifying the voices of the children reciting the rhyme, “We played the pipe for you, and you did not dance; we sang a dirge, and you did not mourn” (v. 17). If Jesus saw himself and John as “we,” then Jesus was making fun of the apathetic attitude of the crowds.¹⁰ Jesus “played the pipe” trying to get the people to celebrate the arrival of the kingdom of heaven, while John “sang a dirge” in order to get the crowds to mourn over Israel’s sin, and the people didn’t care either way.¹¹ On the other hand, if the children reciting the rhyme were the people of “this generation,” then the one refusing to dance is John and the one refusing to mourn is Jesus.¹² In other words, by placing the rhyme on the lips of the crowds, Jesus was criticizing them for their fickle responses to both John’s and his ministry. The people were mocking John for his morose approach to life. (“Quit acting so glum, chum. Get up and dance!”) Yet they were troubled by the fact that Jesus didn’t know when it was time to quit partying. (“Hey, this isn’t the time to dance. It’s a funeral, for goodness sake!”) Both approaches make sense, but I think the former fits the context better. Jesus had just criticized the crowd for their lack of response to John (vv. 4–15) and was about to rebuke them for ignoring the significance of his own ministry among them (vv. 20–24). Furthermore, vv. 17–19 follow a chiastic form:¹³

A. “We [Jesus] played the pipe for you”

B. “We [John] sang a dirge”

B. “John came neither eating nor drinking”

A. “The Son of Man came eating and drinking”

Besides, the last line of v. 19—the perfect segue to Jesus’s indictment of the Galilean villages—clinches it for me: “But wisdom is proved right by her deeds.” “This generation” may have dismissed John and Jesus for their bizarre behavior and extreme approaches to getting right with God. But Jesus was convinced that the wisdom of their tandem ministry would be vindicated by God—something Matthew was out to prove in the rest of his Gospel. In other words, as far as Matthew was concerned, the wisdom revealed in chapters 1–10 (John is the forerunner, Jesus is the coming one) will be “proved right” by chapters 12–28.¹⁴ Ironically, then, the jester of the crowd (“he is a glutton and a drunkard!”) will be killed as the rebellious son in Jerusalem: “You must purge the evil from among you” (Deut 21:18–21). The only question left to the reader is whether anyone will have ears to hear the prophecy and eyes to see the kingdom of God.

Having Eyes to See Wisdom

Since Jesus didn’t prescribe the customary approach to repentance via fasting, how did he expect Israel to return to God? If people lamenting over their sin by taking up the wearing of sackcloth and sitting in ashes wasn’t necessary, what would provoke God’s people to repent of their sin? A prophet wearing camel hair, living in the desert, observing a wild-honey-and-locust diet didn’t do it: “He’s demon possessed!” A rebel defying the “repentance” tradition by eating and drinking with notorious sinners when he should have been fasting seemed to make things worse: “He’s a lousy drunk!” No. As far as Jesus was concerned, the one thing that should have compelled the Galileans to fall on their faces before God and repent of their sin was the undeniable sign of God’s presence: miracles. Jesus thought the miracles he and his disciples performed would not only draw lost sheep into the fold but would also convince Israel to repent of their sin (Matt 11:20–24). The kingdom of heaven had come to earth. Yet despite all the miracles, nothing happened. No repentance. No sackcloth and ashes. This made no sense to Jesus. It’s one thing to dismiss John as a crazy man and Jesus as a party animal. But to ignore the miraculous? That was incomprehensible. Sure, sometimes the crowd gave glory to God for what they saw (9:8). But Jesus expected the people to respond to the glory of God like Isaiah did, confessing that they were a people of “unclean lips” because they recognized that they were in the presence of “the King” (Isa 6:5). Evidently, the Galileans began to take all these miracles for granted, which enraged Jesus: “Woe to you, Chorazin! Woe to you, Bethsaida! For if the miracles that were performed in you had been performed in Tyre and Sidon, they would have repented long ago in sackcloth and ashes” (Matt 11:21). Pagans—and not just any pagans but very bad pagans (Ezek 26:2–28:24)—would have responded more appropriately to God’s work than Jesus’s own people. Sodom receiving a better verdict on judgment day than Capernaum (Matt 11:23–24)? Really? Wow. Jesus was really angry.

At this point (even though we know better), one might expect Jesus to say, “Let them all go to hell.” After all, they missed their chance. They were acting like children who couldn’t be pleased no matter what they saw. Jesus had already done so much to reveal what heaven on earth looks like. (It is a beautiful picture, isn’t it? The sick restored. The broken healed. Evil defeated. Laughter and eating and drinking around the table of God’s mercy. The relief that comes knowing God is on our side. Things made right. Forgiveness. Good times.) Yet, he didn’t leave the Galileans to the misery of their foolishness, banishing them to eternal damnation. He didn’t stomp off in total frustration to find a more receptive audience, “lost sheep” who grazed other pastures of Israel’s land. (“So, you don’t want to hear it anymore, huh? Don’t like what you see? Reject me? Fine. I’ll take my show on the road and find people who will appreciate me, you bunch of thick-headed, hardhearted buffoons!”) Rather than sulk over the poor results of his kingdom effort to this point, Jesus praised God for what was happening. Yes, Jesus was angry. But he still saw his Father at work in his reclamation project. In fact, simple “children” who needed God the most—not the “wise and learned”—saw it too. The mysterious presence of the kingdom (the Messiah is here!) was hidden from the eyes of those who think they see everything (Matt 11:25). But the eyes of “little children” see things that “wise and learned” people don’t see. Indeed, the way Jesus saw it, this was just the way the God of Israel worked: exalting the lowly, finding the lost, restoring the broken, revealing himself to the least of these. Nothing pleases him more than when children recognize the wisdom of God (v. 26).

Throughout Proverbs, Wisdom appears as a woman who calls out to the masses to see if anyone would recognize her and listen to her words. She goes to the public square. She lifts her voice on top of the wall. Wisdom cries out to the people gathered at the city gate, preaching her sermons against the foolish ways of those who mock God (Prov 1:20–22). What if they don’t listen and continue in their foolishness? Well, after calamity comes (and disaster is certain when fools refuse to follow sage advice), Wisdom says she will “laugh when disaster strikes you” (v. 26). In the midst of their miserable condition the people will finally turn to her for help, but by then it will be too late: “Then they will call to me but I will not answer; they will look for me but will not find me, since they hated knowledge and did not choose to fear the LORD” (vv. 28–29). Good advice doesn’t help fools suffering the consequences of their stupidity. Wisdom is the first to say, “I told you so.” Since fools mock Wisdom, she decides to return the favor: “You wouldn’t listen to me because you didn’t recognize me. Now you want my help? Okay, here’s a little advice: ‘Learn your lesson. You made your bed; now lie in it’ ” (the gist of vv. 30–33).

At times, Jesus sounds like Wisdom, berating the masses for their foolish inability to hear and see what is set plainly before them (Matt 11:20–24). He acts like he’s the embodiment of Wisdom, even going so far as to say, “Nobody understands me. Nobody gets it. I’m the only one who knows God. And, God is the only one who recognizes me” (v. 27).¹⁵ Yet, even in the face of such disappointment and the crushing loss that comes to those who “don’t get it,” Jesus strikes a different tone than Wisdom. All is not lost. Time hasn’t expired; there’s no “I told you so” in Jesus’s voice. It’s because he believes God has revealed himself to some people—to “little children” (v. 25). Furthermore, Jesus believes that, as long as God’s Son is still present, he’s able to reveal the Father to whomever he “chooses to reveal him” (v. 27).¹⁶ So, rather than withdraw from the foolish masses who don’t have ears to hear or eyes to see Wisdom—leaving them to the miserable result of their bad choices—Jesus takes her message to the streets once again: “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest” (v. 28). Thank God! Jesus believes in second chances, even for fools. And, here’s why: wisdom will become the fool for fools who can’t see wisdom. The Son will reveal the Father’s will to them—this is the way of wisdom!—because he chooses to become one of them.

I think that idea—the incarnation of “foolish” wisdom—is embedded in the imagery of Jesus’s call to “take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light” (vv. 29–30). The yoke imagery has a double meaning. First, Jewish rabbis referred to the yoke of the law as a necessary burden that leads to a wise life.¹⁷ In fact, Jesus sounds a lot like Ben Sira summoning students to learn the wisdom of obedience from him:

Draw near to me, you who are uneducated,

and lodge in the house of instruction.

Why do you say you are lacking in these things,

and why do you endure such great thirst? . . .

Put your neck under her yoke,

and let your soul receive instruction;

it is to be found close by.

See with your own eyes that I have labored but little

and found for myself much serenity. (Sir 51:23–27 NRSV)

The difference is that Jesus invited future disciples not only to learn from him but to “take my yoke upon you,” as if the yoke belonged to him.¹⁸ Rabbis would speak of placing the yoke of the law on their students, a heavy burden that required training, not only to carry but to get used to it—a rather uncomfortable fit. Jesus invited disciples to place his yoke on their shoulders because it “fits well” (a better translation of chrēstos than “easy”), and the burden of his yoke is “light” (Matt 11:30).¹⁹

Most commentators think the yoke refers to part of the tackle required to pair up two oxen to pull heavy objects, like a cart or a plow.²⁰ (On this reading, Jesus claims his yoke is “easier” because he pairs up with his disciples to pull the heavy load of the law.) But France finds a better fit for the analogy. He thinks Jesus was referring to a human yoke, a piece of wood “worn by a single person to distribute the weight of a load across the shoulders.”²¹ The imagery takes your breath away. Yes, Jesus was referring to the yoke of the law, just like the rabbis. Moreover, as commentators rightly point out, unlike the rabbis Jesus talked about the yoke as if it were his. But what does this mean? I think the yoke is his cross.²² He’s talking about a yoke for humans, not animals. In my mind’s eye, then, I see Jesus picking up a beam, placing it on his shoulders and wrapping his arms around it—like a man carrying the crossbeam to his own crucifixion—and in effect saying, “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you Shabbat.²³ Take my yoke upon you and become my disciple [mathete] because I am a lowly man [praus . . . kai tapeinos tē kardia]. Here, you will find Shabbat for your soul.²⁴ For my yoke fits you well; the burden of my law is light.” No wonder Jesus believed everyone—even fools!—would get another chance to see wisdom. In his humiliation, Jesus would reveal the folly of God’s wisdom to all who have eyes to see (1 Cor 1:18–2:16).

LIVE the Story

Most of us can identify with this story in several ways. Consider John. How many times have you found yourself suffering difficult circumstances because you did the right thing? It’s one thing to live with the regret of your mistakes—like some of the people of Chorazin, Bethsaida, or Capernaum must have felt long after the death and resurrection of Jesus. Did they think back to the day, remembering how they “missed” their Messiah? “He was right here. He did so many marvelous things. The rascals in Jerusalem crucified him. But now we hear he’s been raised from the dead! Who could have seen that coming? He must be God’s Messiah! And we didn’t see it.” But John didn’t have the advantage of post-Easter contemplation. He was murdered before he knew the rest of the story. Of course, prophets are supposed to see what others don’t, peering into the future in light of prophecies past. They are able to see the handwriting on the wall and make sense of what is to be. They know God’s promises must come true because his word is infallible. Yet what happens when God lets you down, when his promises don’t come true for you? It’s hard to join in the praise of the people who are getting their miracles—the blind see, the lame walk, lepers are healed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised—when you are about to die in prison. Doesn’t God see your faithfulness? Has he forgotten you? Do you shake your fist at God and say, “What about me, God? What about me? I’m going to die, and you’re not doing anything about it.” That’s a heavy load to carry—when things don’t turn out like we think they should. Then again, perhaps this is the time to pick up his yoke and shoulder the cross, only to discover that his burden is light because it fits you so well. Who could have seen that coming? Only prophets who learn from their master, wear his yoke, and find rest for their soul because they know the rest of the story.

Corrie ten Boom, author of the bestseller The Hiding Place, tells the story of being awakened in the middle of the night by her sister while they slept with several hundred other women in a German concentration camp during World War II. Both she and her sister had been arrested by the Gestapo for hiding Jewish refugees in their home in the Netherlands.

Bep, my sister, awakened me and repeated to me in a whisper what God had told her about the work that would be waiting for us after our release.

“We must open a home for people who have suffered so much here and in other places where life has been completely disrupted by war. But the most important part of our task will be to tell everyone who will listen that Jesus is the only answer to the problems that are disturbing the hearts of men and of nations. We shall have the right to speak because we can tell from our experience that His light is more powerful than the deepest darkness. Surely, nothing could be darker than our experiences here. I keep telling myself, ‘Things cannot possibly grow worse,’ but every day we see that our misery only deepens. How wonderful that the reality of His presence is greater than the reality of the hell about us! We shall have to do a lot of traveling, but we must never spend our energies in collecting funds. God will provide everything we need: money, health, wisdom, and the necessary languages. All of our efforts must go into bringing the gospel, for we shall have many opportunities.”

Bep’s eyes did not see the dirty throng around us. She was gazing into the future, and a glow of happiness brightened her emaciated face.

Three days later she passed away, and ten days later, just one week before all women of my age were killed, I was released from the concentration camp.²⁵

See? It’s true. The poor do get good news—even in prison—because they know the rest of the story.²⁶

Perhaps we can also see ourselves in the faces of the imperceptive people. How often does God show up in our midst, and we miss him? Even worse, we begin to take miracles for granted because God is so reliable. When things turn out like they should—according to our expectations—we take it as business as usual. It’s hardly a time to repent of our sin like Jesus expected. Isn’t that odd? We tend to think of our need to repent when things go wrong, when Wisdom is mocking us for our foolish decisions, when we’re having to live with the consequences of our stupidity. “Oh God! I’m so sorry. Please get me out of this mess and I’ll serve you.” But heaven is silent. Wisdom doesn’t answer. And Sodom bears witness to the judgment of God. Perhaps it’s time to repent of our sin when things are going well, when we see the miraculous glory of God’s care every day. Rather than act like we deserve his blessing, we should say, “We’re not worthy.” Indeed, after witnessing the glory of God, maybe we need a few “Isaiahs” to show up and remind us it’s time to confess our sins.

I had heard about the dramatic change that occurred in his life, how he used to be completely disinterested in spiritual things, would sit in the corner with a catatonic look on his face during Bible study, never saying a word. His conversion had occurred just before I became his pastor. When I met him, Bill Panneck was one of the most refreshing, energetic, committed, kind, engaged members at Central Baptist Church in Jonesboro, Arkansas. An exceptional dentist, he often joined mission work in underdeveloped countries to provide dental care and share the gospel. He taught a Sunday-school class of thirty-somethings, was the chairman of deacons, and also chaired the committee that had recently taken on the massive project of relocating the church facilities. You couldn’t find a more endearing, dedicated, loving couple than he and his wife, Patti. In the best sense of the expression, when it came to building up the body of Christ and advancing the kingdom of God, they were “all in.” After hearing one of his friends talk about how much Bill had changed, the next time I saw him I found out why he made such an about-face in his life. Since it happened during a five-week-long revival meeting at the church, I expected to hear the usual when-I-came-to-the-end-of-my-rope-I-found-Christ testimony. But that’s not his story.

Bill said things were going well in his life. Good business. Comfortable home. Great friends. Of course, there were a few personal problems—issues at home between he and his wife—but nothing out of the ordinary. During one of the revival services he began to think: “There has to be more to life than this.” Sure, God had been good to him. He really had nothing to complain about. But he felt like he was missing something. He went to church. He paid his tithe. God had blessed him with so much. Indeed, the more he thought about the blessings of God, the more gratitude welled up in his heart. “Then it hit me,” he said with the usual twinkle in his eye and thick southern accent, “God has been so good to me. I wanted to give all that I am for him.”

“That’s it?” I said quizzically.

“Yep. That’s it. I can’t explain it, but all of the sudden it’s like God’s Spirit zapped me, and I knew right then and there I was going to change. I would live for Christ and Christ alone.”

Since our conversation that day, I’ve thought about Bill’s testimony quite a bit and wondered why we don’t hear that story more often. But then again, in light of what Jesus discovered in Galilee perhaps we know why. Perhaps it’s because many of us need to repent of our sin of presumption.

Finally, some of us—especially preachers—tend to identify with Jesus’s frustration over the lack of response to his ministry. When I was a pastor, I often wondered what it would take to replicate Jesus’s ability to do “power and glory.” Want to draw a crowd? Make sure God shows up, and people will flock to see it. Jesus performed miracles—undeniable signs of the power and glory of God’s presence—and the masses were drawn to the spectacle like moths to a flame. Of course, we didn’t perform miracles on Sunday—it took a lot of hard work and preparation to make things happen during worship services. Although some churches tried to compensate for the lack of the miraculous, creating sensational worship experiences that appealed to all five senses, I hoped that people would appreciate our usual efforts on any given Sunday. Music. Readings. Prayers. Preaching. The whole routine made it easy for all of us to fall into the pattern of hitting our mark with the people responding in kind. Did God “show up”? Well, we weren’t sure, so sometimes we would do special things—out of the ordinary events—hoping to capture the awe of divine presence. Every once in a while I wondered, “What if we could do ‘power and glory’ like Jesus did? What if we could perform miracles? That would work. After witnessing the miraculous, certainly the people would know that we’ve been visited by God!” Then I would think of Jesus—especially this passage—and remember that even he couldn’t inspire people to see the presence of God. No one did “power and glory” better than Jesus (not only miracles but amazing sermons),²⁷ and look where it got him? A cross—the very place where “power and glory” would show up best. Indeed, the yoke of Jesus is where disciples find rest and burdens become light because the cross fits us so well.

I did not come with eloquence or human wisdom as I proclaimed to you the testimony about God. For I resolved to know nothing while I was with you except Jesus Christ and him crucified. I came to you in weakness with great fear and trembling. My message and my preaching were not with wise and persuasive words, but with a demonstration of the Spirit’s power, so that your faith might not rest on human wisdom, but on God’s power. (1 Cor 2:1–5)

This is the power of a crucified life.

So, like Paul, perhaps the best way to do “power and glory” is to preach the cross of Jesus Christ and wear his yoke well.

1. James D. G. Dunn, Jesus and the Spirit (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1997), 59.

2. Chrysostom suggests that John sent his disciples to inquire of Jesus for their benefit not his; they needed to learn for themselves the identity of Jesus (Homilies, 239–40).

3. Keener, Matthew, 337.

4. Bruner, Matthew, 1:510.

5. Keener writes: “Jesus here reprimands those who laid claim to the kingdom but without just, legal claim” (Matthew, 339).

6. For a good discussion of the options, see Turner, Matthew, 294–96.

7. See the Davies and Allison, Matthew, 2:257.

8. Bruner, Matthew, 1:510.

9. See Deut 21:20 (Keener, Matthew, 342; Evans, Matthew, 241).

10. So Chrysostom (Homilies, 246).

11. This is what France calls “the traditional interpretation” (Matthew, 434).

12. Davies and Allison, Matthew, 2:261–62.

13. Turner, Matthew, 296.

14. Davies and Allison describe Matthew 1–11 as “the offer” and 12–27 as “the refusal” (Matthew, 2:294–97).

15. Luz hears here echoes of Jesus as “Immanuel” (Matthew, 2:169–70); Davies and Allison see allusions to Moses (Exodus 33:12f.; see Matthew, 2:282–87).

16. “If revelation is accessible to ‘babes,’ then it is accessible to all” (Garland, Reading Matthew, 133).

17. Keener, Matthew, 348–49.

18. Davies and Allison, Matthew, 2:289–90.

19. France, Matthew, 450: “A comfortably fitting yoke and a light burden is the ideal combination.”

20. See Nolland, Matthew, 476–77.

21. France, Matthew, 449. See also Keener, Matthew, 348; Garland, Reading Matthew, 134; and especially Talbert, Matthew, 150, who also hears echoes of Lam 5:5.

22. Referring to the execution of Jesus, Brown notes: “Often it [the crossbeam] was carried behind the nape of the neck like a yoke, with the condemned’s arms pulled back and hooked over it” (Raymond E. Brown, The Death of the Messiah: From Gethsemane to the Grave, 2 vols., ABRL [New York: Doubleday, 1994], 2:913 [emphasis mine]).

23. Davies and Allison, Matthew, 2:287, quotes Augustine: “Christ is the true Sabbath.”

24. The eschatological age was often described in sabbatical terms (Davies and Allison, Matthew, 2:288–89).

25. Corrie ten Boom, Amazing Love: True Stories of the Power of Forgiveness (Grand Rapids: Fleming H. Revell, 1953), 9–10.

26. Which Bruner thinks is the climax of the series of messianic deeds (Matthew, 1:508–9). See Dunn, Jesus and the Spirit, 60–61.

27. “Not merely in [Jesus’s] exorcisms and healings, but chiefly in his preaching, is God’s eschatological reign visible and present” (Dunn, Jesus and the Spirit, 61 [emphasis his]).