The Trouble with Jesus
by Constance Hastings
The Trouble with Jesus: He did not refrain
from using images that oppose each other.
You’re either going to love it or hate it. No in‑between. And trust me, you’re not the only one wrestling with it. The Bible, Holy Scriptures, God’s Word, Gospel, or whatever name you want to slap on it, isn’t built for folks who want a warm blanket and a bedtime story. A challenge is made to go deep to discern its message. If you want something easy, feel-good fluff, read that chicken soup book. These ancient writings aren't for the intellectually lazy or the spiritually timid. This is for people who can take a hit, get knocked flat, and still climb back in the ring for round two. It’s seeming paradoxes and contradictions call for heavy wrestlers who can take full body slams.
Oppositional Teaching
So Jesus, calling himself the Son of Man (which’s got layers on layers: male, relationship to a paternal figure, divine, prophetic, cosmic… look up Daniel 7:13–14 to see the OG reference), did not refrain from using images that clashed, opposed each other. He’s known for dropping comparisons that make you squint.
At one point he tells the crowds, “How shall I describe this generation? These people are like a group of children playing a game in the public square.” Back then kids weren’t the cute little Instagram angels we hype today. Due to their high mortality rate, you couldn’t count on children to be of any service now or a later return for your care. Kids were either a headache or a liability, not worth much emotional investment unless they survived long enough to work and bring in return. Jesus comparing grown folks to chaotic children? Oh yeah.
You can hear the frustration in his voice. These people were spiritually fickle. They didn’t care for John the Baptist’s austere practices of abstinence, fasting, living like a desert monk. They said he was just no fun, even demon-possessed. Then they got all over Jesus and his disciples for feasting and drinking, calling them gluttons and drunkards and “a friend of the worst sort of sinners,” not to mention implication by association. Like children bullying other kids, no one who claims to be called by or from God gets a fair shake from the social stream of the day. Jesus seems to be really tired of their trash talk and stupid criticisms.
You understand. No matter what you do, they'll through it. If you want to take someone down, you smear them no matter what position they take. That’s how haters operate; they discredit you from every angle, even when you contradict yourself trying to please them. John and Jesus couldn’t win for losing. That’s how it works.
Simplistic Trust
In a sly move though, Jesus slides into prayer, low‑key, subtle, but sharp. He blesses those who hold on to simple, honest faith, like that of a trusting child who knows they’re loved completely. Those who lean in like a child are the ones who will understand what the “wise and clever” can’t grasp. Not because they’re dumb but because they’re open.
Jesus put it this way: “But wisdom is shown to be right by what results from it.” Real wisdom comes from honest faith, not from overthinking everything until you choke the life out of it. This kind of insight produces a faith greater than investigative analysis which seeks its own ends rather than revelation of what is greater than oneself. It’s an exchange of the child-ish for the child-like. Jesus thanks God for these.
He can do that because he sees what God sees. Those who come honestly in their seeking with clean motives, not blinded by their own egos or schemes, get access to insight and what God offers like nobody else can touch. That openness affords them perceptions not available otherwise. And to these, Jesus makes a promise.
Freedom of Release
“Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.” Don’t we need that right now. Rest from tension and stress like we never saw coming. Rest from economic anxiety and war headlines. Rest from political divisiveness that has nearly paralyzed our nation. Rest from the hate that spews out on neighbors caught by the injustices of personal and systemic racism. Rest from the weight that’s been sitting on your chest for years. All these and so much more that’s been carried for too long and has frayed the psyche leaving doubt, conflict and unanswered questions in our amoral/immoral world.
We’ve tried our own diversions, numbing ourselves. None of it works. We say, “There must be more to life than this.”
And Jesus says, There is. “Take my yoke upon you. Let me teach you…” It’s another paradox. A yoke’s not exactly a cozy metaphor. It’s a tool to control cattle, guide, restrain, submit it to use. Why swap one strain for another? That’s a stretch.
Yet therein lies what Jesus has to teach, the paradox he’s playing with. You’re going to be mastered by something, ambition, fear, ego, addiction, expectations, the grind, the noise. Everybody’s yoked to something. The question in life is which one will enslave you, giving life instead of draining it?.
Jesus’ yoke isn’t about domination. It’s about direction. Purpose. Partnership. Rest. He’s saying, “Walk with me. I’ll carry the weight with you.” It’s never a promise for a life of ease. It’s a promise of presence on the journey, “because I am humble and gentle, and you will find rest for your souls.”
The seeking and searching find a place to rest not by getting all the answers or erasing all pains, but by walking with a God who holds them in grace by what Jesus can do.
“For my yoke fits perfectly, and the burden I give you is light.”
Named 2024 Notable Book Award by Southern Christian Writers Conference!
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