The Secret of Being Blessed
Blessed is the man who does not walk in the counsel of the wicked or stand in the way of sinners or sit in the seat of mockers. But his delight is in the law of the Lord and on his law he meditates day and night. He is like a tree planted by streams of water, which yields its fruit in season and whose leaf does not wither. Whatever he does prospers. Not so the wicked! They are like chaff that the wind blows away. Therefore the wicked will not stand in the judgment, nor sinners in the assembly of the righteous. For the Lord watches over the way of the righteous, but the way of the wicked will perish. —Psalm 1
Jesus stood
out. Isaiah 52, 53 tells us that there was nothing physical about him that
would attract anyone. He was not one of the “beautiful” people who by virtue of
the physical or material gathers fans. He wasn’t a mover and shaker, creating a
culture that would swirl around him like bees buzz a particularly succulent
flower.
He would
not meet anyone’s criteria for success. Even his intimates would desert him in
the end. He built no monuments, wrote no books, left no familial legacy. He was
the quintessential minimalist.
He stood
out because he was the man who was different than all the rest, the one who
walked among the wicked but was not one of the wicked. He knew sinners
“up-close-and-personal” but was not a sinner himself. He did not join the
mockers of truth and righteousness because he WAS truth and righteousness.
The Father
announced to the world that this Jesus was his well-loved Son who brought him
pleasure. The world was to listen to him, to learn from him, to believe him, to
follow him, to become like him. This would mean a radical change—a people who
no longer walked with the wicked, behaved like the sinners, or laughed at God.
The
officials of Jesus’ day were astonished that a carpenter’s son, even at the age
of twelve when he first appeared in the temple, should know so much. But as the
quintessential “blessed” one his “delight” had always been in filling his mind
with the Word of his Father. It never left him even at the workbench in his
earthly father’s carpenter shop.
Did he
quote the words of Psalm 19 as he worked away in the shop or helped his mother
in the house, or played with his friends?
“The law of my Father is perfect, reviving my
soul. The statutes of my Father are trustworthy, making me wise though I appear
simple to many. The precepts of my Father are right, giving joy to my heart. The
commands of my Father are radiant, shining like light from my eyes. The awe in
which I hold my Father is pure, enduring forever. The ordinances of my Father
are sure and altogther righteous. They are more precious to me than gold, than
much fine gold; they are sweeter than honey, than honey from the comb. They are
a warning but in keeping them is great reward.”
Jesus spoke
to his disciples about the secret of being like him. In that last evening
before his trial and sentencing he told his disciples “Believe me when I say that I am in the Father and the Father is in me”
(John 14:11) and followed this conversation with the illustration of the vine
and the necessity of remaining connected at all times to the vine through which
the fruit of righteousness would be produced.
We see the
branches of the New Testament vine in the tree of Psalm 1. The tree flourishes no
matter what because its roots are deeply embedded in the stream from which it
draws its nourishment and strength just as the branches of the vine flourish
because they are firmly attached to that vine.
Jesus, in
the Father and the Father in him, modeled the relationship between the
branches and the vine and the tree and the stream. The Spirit of God indwelling
the believer now empowers that believer to produce the fruit that Jesus looks to find in
those who belong to him.
For a
“season” God dwelt with us. Some were privileged to see “his glory, the glory of the One and Only, who came from the Father,
full of grace and truth” (John 1:14). Grace and truth walked the dusty
roads of Palestine, touched the untouchable, and looked into the faces of
people no one else saw. Grace and truth hung on a cross. The world saw his
“fruit” for a while.
Fruit is
always forming though it is not always seen. We, in northern climes, don’t see
it in the winter. But it’s still there, being nurtured and readied for the warm
sun of spring when its “season” arrives.
Rooted in
the stream, connected to the vine, Him in me and me in Him, the leaves of my
life never curl and turn brown, never fall to the ground. There are times when
such disaster threatens. Did Jesus feel his roots pull away from the stream? He
was tempted in every way that we can be tempted so he must have felt the pull. But the quintessential
“blessed” One just dug deeper.
Prosper? Is
death on a cross anyone’s definition of success? Actually it was. It was what
God required to deal with sin and repeal the death sentence that hung over us
because of that sin. It was what he had been sent to do. It was what he had
volunteered to do. It was what his Father willed him to do. It was what we
needed him to do if we were ever to regain a relationship with God. It was
success.
The tree
came from a seed that had fallen into the ground and died. The winter of that
dark Friday gave way to the spring of that bright Sunday when the seed yielded
its fruit in the resurrection.
An aunt of
mine once gave me a resurrection plant. It was a sorry-looking thing in its
plastic bag, all brown and crumbly. If anything looked dead, it did. It
was—until it was placed in a bowl of water. Overnight it came back to life,
green and supple.
Jesus
modeled those branches, the tree, the resurrection plant. He modeled the importance of being connected to the
source. Stay connected to the source. Cling for all you are worth to the vine. Plunge
those roots down deep into the water. Drink up the nourishment that turns death
into life. It's the secret to being blessed.
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