My Gospel Jealousy

When I get impatient with legalism

 Photo by Craig Adderley: https://www.pexels.com/photo/man-in-black-hoodie-3531839/

(A six-minute read.)

I have a confession to make: I find that I have less and less patience these days for Christians who obscure and undermine the beauty, freedom, and joy of the gospel.

It’s one of the few things I find myself being dogmatic and judgmental—perhaps even a little angry—about.

In fact, my patience is wearing so thin that I’ve started to wonder if it’s more of a psychological problem than a theological conviction—one that needs therapy rather than public expression.

But I’m torn.

I read how the Apostle Paul declared a curse upon anyone who would “preach any other gospel” than the one he delivered to the Galatians—which uplifted the supremacy and sufficiency of God’s love and Christ’s sacrifice, thus doing away with any hint of transactional, hustle-based religion (Galatians 1:6-9).

I read how Jesus rebuked and pronounced “woes” upon religious leaders for placing “heavy burdens” upon people, insisting they observe rites and rituals which they themselves weren’t willing to observe (Matthew 23:4; Luke 11:46).

I don’t at all claim to have the same authority as Jesus or Paul, of course.

But it does seem that there’s a place for loving-impatience when it comes to those who would distort the gospel; that we aren’t expected to tolerate those with religious influence who pervert the scandal of the cross.

Indeed, the Bible seems to indicate that we should zealously guard and protect those who are spiritually vulnerable, uncompromisingly shielding them from people who would lead them into spiritual bondage.

That’s because, as Paul wrote to the Corinthians, the “letter kills, but the Spirit gives life” (2 Corinthians 3:6).

So we’re talking about a matter of spiritual—and, I’d add, emotional and relational—life and death.

Thus, that’s why I’m torn—and feel somewhat justified in my “gospel jealousy.”

I could cite quick and easy examples.

I could mention preachers who make much of prophecy but scarcely mention the love of God.

I could point to leaders who give the impression that God cares more about what women wear than how men act.

I could talk about teachers who tell six-year-olds that it’s a sin to eat candy and play board games.

This isn’t to say we can only ever talk about the gospel in a very narrow and limited sense. I wrote a whole book which proposes that there’s more to Jesus than the simple idea that he died for us and we can be saved because of that.

But it’s one of those things that #iykyk (if you know, you know).

Those who’ve been smitten with Jesus and intoxicated by the gospel can pretty easily tell when any subject is being presented in a gospel-centered way or when it’s being presented in a shame-based way.

One brings life and the other death.

One brings freedom and the other bondage.

One brings rest and the other burnout.

One brings love and the other fear.

One brings acceptance and the other condemnation.

One brings liberation and the other control.

One brings openness and the other exclusivism.

One brings humility and the other pride.

I could go on.

But, again, #iykyk.

“Come unto me”

All this makes me think of an interesting nuance from two speeches from Jesus, perhaps only fully appreciated in the original Greek of the passage.

One of Jesus’s more well-known expressions, recorded by Matthew, is when he invites listeners to “come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” He then goes on to urge people to take his “yoke” upon themselves and to learn from him, for his “yoke is easy” and his “burden is light” (Matthew 11:28-30, KJV).

It’s a beautiful invitation in its own right, taken simply at face value, but I think it packs even more punch when it’s connected to a passage I mentioned above.

The Greek word for “heavy laden” (phortizo) is a verb that’s in the passive form here—denoting that the heaviness has been imposed by an external force—and it’s also a participle, thus reflecting a state of being.

It’s as if Jesus is saying that his listeners have been acted upon by others to such a degree that they’ve internalized this perpetual state of stress and burden-bearing.

But that’s not all.

This Greek verb is used in only one other place in the whole New Testament, and it’s in Jesus’s scathing critique of the religious leaders (mentioned above), who rigidly tried to prescribe and proscribe matters of religious minutia.

“Woe to you also, lawyers!” he thus proclaimed, “For you load [phortizo] men with burdens hard to bear, and you yourselves do not touch the burdens with one of your fingers” (Luke 11:46).

Thus, it seems to me that Jesus’s invitation to rest in Matthew 11 in’t simply a general invitation to people who are weary from a 60-hour work-week.

What he seemingly has in mind is a rest that serves as an oasis from the crippling and dehumanizing exactions and restrictions that those with religious power try to impose upon others.

He’s offering relief from religious systems that promote spiritual hustling and a transactional, merit-based “gospel.”

Such an interpretation is all the more compelling, I do believe, when we notice that Jesus invites his followers in Matthew 11 to take his “yoke” upon them.

Many scholars have pointed out that a “yoke” in first-century Judaism was a Rabbi’s interpretation about the Torah and the instructions that resulted from it. Thus, Jesus is contrasting his yoke with the yoke of other Rabbis. His was “easy” and theirs was evidently heavy and hard.

So, again, Jesus’s invitation here isn’t simply a gentle invitation to overworked middle-class Westerners or adrenaline junkies. It’s an implicit critique of controlling, shame-based religious leaders who try to impose their merit-based system of works on vulnerable spiritual bystanders.

I think Eugene Peterson’s rendition of this passage in The Message captures a bit of this nuance, even while retaining a sense of idyllicism.

“Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.”

Beautiful! And captivating!

Of course, I know there are many people who view an “anything goes” attitude as just as much of—if not more than—a threat to the gospel as this sort of transactional, shame-based messaging that I’m talking about.

But I’m not so sure—though I’ll leave those reflections for another day.

The bottom line is that I will keep banging this drum, feeling somewhat justified in my intolerance for those who want to impose heavy burdens on others, thus obscuring the potency and power of the gospel.

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Shawn is a pastor in Maine, whose life, ministry, and writing focus on incarnational expressions of faith. The author of four books and a columnist for Adventist Review, he is also a DPhil (PhD) candidate at the University of Oxford, focusing on nineteenth-century American Christianity. You can follow him on Instagram, and listen to his podcast Mission Lab.