by Tad de Bordenave

This article takes us back to the invitation by Jesus from the end of the last article: “Anyone who comes searching for me, I will not turn away.” A lawyer has come to Jesus to test him. We will see how Jesus valued and honored the man, drew him out, and prepared him for challenges to his faith. As we move through the dialogue, we will also see how he draws us in, how he treats us and our questions with the same respect and honor.

Immediately we see the Lord’s attention and patience. The lawyer, in testing Jesus, asked, “What must I do to inherit eternal life?” No doubt Jesus saw this as the oxymoron that it is, but the exchange was not a true and false test. This was a test of authority, a quest for direction to God’s good life. Jesus honored the man who came to him, even with such a flawed outlook. Respecting the religious standing of the inquirer, Jesus asked him for an answer. “You know the law. What do you perceive is written there?” The answer was a good one, quoting from Deuteronomy and Leviticus. The answer is loving God and loving neighbor.

This was not a trap question but the sincere desire of Jesus to know more of the lawyer. It is almost as he was leaning forward to show how he was listening and looking into the lawyer’s heart. And he was discerning.

This could have been an easy end to the conversation, leaving the lawyer with an affirming handshake from the Lord. “You are absolutely right. Now get on with it.” But again, Jesus knew this was not a Bible quiz. He knew this man, a man asking questions of eternal matters. This was Jesus the testing the lawyer.

With the kindness and acceptance of Jesus, the lawyer opened himself with another question – a deeper question for a deeper faith. “Who is my neighbor?” This wasn’t about identifying neighbors; this was about what was missing in his faith. For the lawyer to move deeper, Jesus lay before him a requirement – to discover what Jesus later called, “the key to wisdom.” Jesus wanted him to find that key, for it would show what was missing.

Jesus lodged the key in the story of the Good Samaritan. No “Reader alert” is needed; we know the story and will follow it until the end. But first a digression. If that key brings what was missing in the lawyer’s faith, it must do the same for us as well.

So the digression — What is this key to wisdom, and how do we find it?

Finding the key is, in fact, a discovery. This search does not follow clues but relies on an attitude.  And that attitude is humility. This humility lays down all ownership and powers over our destiny, morals, and values. It yields that responsibility to God and accepts his authority. In the beginning it is he who created us, placed us, taught us, and continues to hold us. Exploring this is a God-given privilege, though much lies outside our comprehension. It does not ask that we lay down energetic thought, challenge, doubt, or questions. Pride is the adversary here, since it reluctantly yields control. Humility prepares the way of the Lord; humility makes our paths straight.

Jesus identifies the key as himself — Christ and him crucified. In the letter to the Hebrews, the writer says that Jesus earned the right to be our Messiah because of his suffering. His suffering sanctifies our suffering. The cross was a cauldron of all that opposed Christ and his rule. All the powers of evil nailed him to the cross; all the sin of the world went upon himself. If ever there was travesty of justice, if ever an undeserved death, it was there — Christ on the cross.

Now, that was the time for asking, “God, how could you? Where were you when they took your innocent Son? Didn’t you see this was not fair? Wasn’t there something you could have done?  Why did you let that happen?” Whatever our wounds, whatever the tragedy, whatever the silence of God, fathomless cruelty and pain were his on the cross.

With the key, we can ask what it opens for us. The answer is: radiance, the radiance of God, the radiance of God in the face of Jesus Christ.

We glimpse the Father and the outlines of the kingdom over which he rules. We see Jesus Christ in kingly garb — kingly with scars. Most of all there is brilliance of light. In that radiance we realize there is purpose, for it shines back on us, our lives, our world, and, yes, our questions. C. S. Lewis said it succinctly: “I believe in Christianity as I believe that the sun has risen: not only because I see it, but because by it I see everything else.”

The Psalmist wrote, “In God’s light we see light.” Our eyes, unaccustomed to such brilliance, discern only sketchy designs, but sketches which gratify. The slight vision we are granted displays the eternal time and place where mercy and faithfulness meet, and righteousness and peace are united. This is what we see in the face of Jesus Christ, and this is what he is pleased to bring to us.