There's a pretty intense scene in Mark 3. Jesus was teaching in a synagogue and some were there only to find a reason to accuse Him.
I had the opportunity to go to Israel last November and was struck by the size of a typical synagogue in the first century. In essence, they were much smaller than I had envisioned. Jesus would have stood in the middle of the room and would have been able to easily see everyone there. He knew who wanted to hear God's Word, and He knew who wanted a reason to accuse Him. If you have given a public speech, then you know it's not that difficult to tell who likes what you say and those who don't.
Jesus confronted the awkwardness head-on. He stood a man with a deformed hand in front of everyone and asked a straightforward question – "Is it lawful on the Sabbath to do good or to do evil, to save life or to kill?" (verse 3). Would any of them blatantly have chosen evil over good? Killing instead of saving? Of course not. Then why didn't they answer immediately? Why did they "remain silent"?
Jesus looked at them in anger and was deeply distressed at their stubborn hearts.
Ouch.
I want to pause here for a minute and address something. Somewhere along the way, many of us have bought into a common teaching that says, "God isn't mad at you." Really? Are we sure about that? Why do we have such a hard time believing that maybe, just maybe, we are capable of doing something that angers Jesus? I don't know a single parent who hasn't been angry at their child for doing something bad. Does that mean that they love their child any less? Of course not!
Before you freak out on me, let me remind you of something incredibly important: although Jesus was angry at them, He also simultaneously loved them. How can I be so sure? Because of the cross. Let's expand our willingness to embrace the theology of a God who is perfect in His ability to be angry AND love completely at the same time. He isn't like us.
Why was Jesus angry? Because they were silent when they shouldn't have been. Because their hearts were stubborn. Basically, they had placed their agenda above God's.
I think it's wise for us to ask ourselves a few questions in response to this passage. Am I sitting on the sidelines looking for reasons to accuse?
This is easier to do than we'd like to admit, isn't it? How many of us have watched the news while perched on our couch/throne and condemned our leaders because we don't like how they are handling this global pandemic. Quite frankly, we believe we could handle it better, don't we? Am I being silent when my voice is needed? Am I part of the problem or part of the solution?
God's Word is alive and active and sharper than any double-edged sword and I certainly felt it pierce me this morning. The last thing I want is for Jesus to be "angry and deeply distressed" because I have a stubborn and silent heart.
Our response shouldn't be self-hatred or prolonged guilt and shame. That is never Christ's intention. He never condemns us if we are found in Him (Romans 8:1). However, if we feel the penetrating piercing of the Word of God, we should respond in gratefulness – because that's the work of the Holy Spirit, drawing us into a deeper and more intimate place with our Savior and our God. I am so glad that Jesus loves me. I am so glad my heart is laid bare before Him, and I am so glad His love and kindness leads me to repentance (Romans 2:4).
We have an enormous opportunity during this season. We can choose to be silent and accuse, or we can choose to be the salt and light that God created us to be. Let's pray that God will soften our hearts. Let's choose humility over pride. Let's choose gentleness over harshness. Let's choose service over silence. Let's live a life worthy of our calling.