The Rejectable, Irresistible Jesus

The Rejectable, Irresistible Jesus--January 29, 2019

"When many of his disciples heard [what Jesus said], they said, 'This teaching is difficult; who can accept it?' But Jesus, being aware that his disciples were complaining about it, said to them, 'Does this offend you? Then what if you were to see the Son of Man ascending to where he was before? It is the spirit that gives life; the flesh is useless. The words that I have spoken to you  are spirit and life.....' Because of this many of his disciples turned back and no longer went about with him. So Jesus asked the twelve, 'Do you also wish to go away?' Simon Peter answered him, 'Lord, to whom can we go? You have the words of eternal life. We have come to believe and know that you are the Holy One of God'." [John 6:60-63, 66-69]

Jesus was... rejectable.

That's a strange thing to call attention to, I know.  It's hardly the kind of quality you would use as a compliment to a friend, mentor, or respected coworker.  Calling someone "rejectable" comes off rather like saying someone who irritates you has a very "punchable face."  

It's even stranger, I think, to say such a thing about Jesus--not just because we (rightly) assume that Jesus should be regarded with at least as much respect as any of those friends, mentors, or respected coworkers, but also because there's something about Jesus that also seems... irresistible.  In fact, a good many of the Reformers of the 16th century made a big point about the grace of God ultimately being just that: "irresistible," which was their way of saying that when God determines to love and claim and choose you, you cannot squirm out of it. (Later Calvinists actually made that one of their five bullet point main ideas, and they called it "irresistible grace.")

So here we are, seemingly having painted ourselves in a corner.  On the one hand, good theology (and biblically-rooted theology, mind you) will say that in the end, God gets what God wants, and that the God of the Scriptures is ultimately like a Mama Cat who is willing to pick up her endangered kittens by the napes of their necks to safety, whether they like it or not, because her love is more definitive than their inability and kitteny cluelessness.  There's good, solid Scripturally-rooted reason for saying that God's grace is, in the end, irresistible.

On the other hand, the Scriptures themselves (this passage from John as a pretty good example) also show us a Christ who is absolutely rejectable.  Here was Jesus, saying things that upset the fair-weather followers and respectable religious types in the crowd, and they consciously, willfully chose to reject Jesus.  Maybe at first in this passage, we might assume that Jesus just lets their rejection roll off like water off a duck's back, but as you go further on, it sure seems like this rejection kind of gets to Jesus.  After he sees so many turn away, he asks the twelve, "Do you also wish to go away?"  Jesus seems to be holding out the possibility that they could just say, "We're done with you, Jesus.  You keep challenging us when we would rather stay complacent! You keep poking us when we would rather stay lulled to sleep!"  Jesus comes off as, well, vulnerable--as capable of being hurt, being wounded, being rejected.  Jesus shows us a God who, as he'll describe himself at one point in the gospels, "would have gathered you to myself like a hen gathers her brood... but you would not let me!"

So, maybe we feel like we have to pick and choose one:  which is Jesus--the Mama Cat whose grip grabs hold of her kittens, or the Mother Hen who would love to gather her brood, but they will not let her?  (And wow, what does it say about Christ, and about God, that both of those decidedly maternal images are our options?)  Maybe it's a false choice--maybe both are true at the same time.  (To be honest, the Lutheran in me is content to live in the tension of that paradox, even if we are wired to want to pick "either/or" rather than "both/and" when we get a choice like this.)

Seriously, maybe it's really both.  Go poking around a little further on in John 6, and Jesus just comes out and tells his disciples, "I chose you," which is a theme he comes back to later on in the Gospel, too.  And in the verses that I skipped over above (see John 6:65) Jesus adds that "no one can come to me unless it is granted by the Father." That sounds pretty irresistible to me.  It sounds very much like a God who grabs us by the nape of the neck whether we chose it first or not, because God will not give up on us.

And at the same time, Jesus is utterly rejectable, too.  That is an essential part of what it means to say that Jesus shares our humanity.  To be human is to be vulnerable--not just physically capable of being wounded or getting bruised, but emotionally and socially able to be rejected by others.  Jesus, because he wears our human skin, is willing to be rejected.  He is willing to bear the hurt of having others say, "I do not want to be associated with you anymore."  He is willing to bear the weight of unpopularity.  He is willing to do and say what he has come to do and say, regardless of whether it polls well or will make him look "tough" or "strong" or "great."  Jesus chooses to be rejectable.

My goodness, that's what the cross is all about, too--Jesus' willing choice to be rejected by everybody, from his hand-picked closest friends, to the religious leaders of his people, even to the cry of dereliction, "My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?"  Part of being human is that we do not have the omnipotence to force everyone to like us, and that means that a certain percentage of human life is going to involve the risk of rejection.  There is no use pretending it ain't true.  And what a wonder--what an honest-to-God wonder it is--that in Christ Jesus, God chooses to risk our rejection.  That really is a big part of the Good News, because it means that Jesus would rather bear the pain and hurt of us saying "No" to him than to avoid it by saying "No" to us.  Instead of that immature response you see sometimes, where someone will say, "You're not breaking up with ME--I'm breaking up with YOU!" or "You can't fire me--I QUIT!" or "They didn't reject MY offer--I rescinded my offer in the first place!", Jesus bears all the shame, all the pain, all the scorn of being the rejected one.  And it happened, not just at the cross, but all along the way, as Jesus kept on speaking and acting authentically, regardless of whether it got him more friends on Facebook or followers on Twitter.  Jesus was willing to be rejected, rather than invincible, tough, and popular.

But--and this is the coup de grace of it all--Jesus reserves the right to keep on loving us and living out his mission, even once we have rejected him.  Jesus goes on loving, goes on serving, goes on speaking, and goes on saving us, even when we have said, "No" to him.  In other words, our rejection of Jesus does not require him to reject us.  And perhaps that's the whole Gospel in a nutshell.  Even when we say "No!" to Jesus--to his new way of life, to his vision of God's Reign, to his self-giving love--Jesus reserves the right still to say "Yes!" to us again and again.  Even when we refuse to let Jesus gather us together like the mother hen, he still picks us up by the scruff of the neck like a mama cat.  He is rejectable… without rejecting us.  

Regardless of whatever you face in this new day, that will remain true.  Even at the points where we say "NO!" to Jesus' way--even when we choose to be self-centered, "Me-and-My-Group-First!" sinners, even when we choose to treat others like they don't matter, even when we reject God and God's ways--Jesus reserves the right not to say "No" to us, and instead keeps on seeking and saving and sheltering and scooping us up by the nape of our necks.  Even when we do our worst--like telling him, "I don't want anything to do with you, Jesus!" or nailing him to a cross--Jesus bears the rejection and keeps on choosing us.

You are chosen--and you cannot lose your chosenness.

You are beloved--and there is nothing you can do to no longer be so.

You are held secure in the grip of grace--and even your rejection of God does not require God to reject you.

The God who wears our skin is able to be both--bearing our rejection, and refusing to return it in kind.  The God who comes to us in Jesus is vulnerable, but also compelling... he is rejectable, and irresistible.

Lord Jesus, thank you for your vulnerability.  Thank you for the grace which does not give up on us.