“The disciples returned with joy, saying, ‘Lord, even the demons are subject to us in your name!’ And He said, ‘ I saw Satan fall like lightning from heaven. Behold, I have given you authority to tread on serpents and scorpions, and over all the power of the enemy, and nothing shall hurt you. Nevertheless, do not rejoice in this, that the spirits are subject to you, but rejoice that your names are written in heaven.” (Luke 10:17-20)
When was the last time you felt powerful? Like you had achieved
something great in your life? Was it an athletic endeavor? A huge sale at work?
An impassioned speech to rally friends and family to action? Being powerful feels
good. It provides a lot of benefits – feelings of achievement and
accomplishment, sense of control, sense of purpose. And it’s not inherently bad
– Scripture is full of commands to be self-controlled; it is after all, a mark
of a mature, Spirit-filled life (Eph. 5:22-24).
So what are we to make of this odd exchange between Jesus
and His followers – demons and spiritual ghouls, Satan falling from heaven, and
behind it all, joy in power over our eternal enemy. How does this somewhat
peculiar passage have anything to say to us today?
Having commissioned His followers to spread the news of God’s
coming Kingdom, Jesus greeted His disciples, about 72 of them in all, as they
returned and began sharing their stories. They marveled with happiness that
even the most confounding of human problems – illness, disability, and yes,
even spiritual darkness and bondage to Satan himself – melted before their
message. In a moment of innocence, they rejoiced in the good their work
produced. Yet here, in that very moment, lurked a dark temptation. We see it in
our own world today. Whether you are part of a large Christian church or attend
a small gathering weekly of a dozen or so believers, you can find this
temptation. The desire to see our work for God as supreme. The urge to do larger,
grander, more extravagant things, not just because we want to serve God and
people, but also because we want to feel accomplished, important, powerful.
As American believers we are enamored with this idea – it’s
all about work and production. The larger the church, the more obvious it is
the Spirit is moving there. The bigger the service project, mission trip,
giving campaign, or ministry, the more obvious that God is at work. And if the
event only reaches a few people, if attendance is low, or interest is lagging,
we feel embarrassed, uncomfortable, like we have no power and therefore, no joy.
I will be the first to admit this in my own life. In the places I have served
before, the bigger the splash, the larger the crowd, the cooler the event, the
greater the joy. Like the disciples, I marveled at all the neat stuff I was helping
get done. I felt proud, not entirely in a bad way, of what my own obedience had
produced. And when things didn’t go well – when small group attendance was low
or no one seemed interested in helping with this cause or that one, my joy
evaporated.
Over time this repetitive cycle of success and failure, of
highs and lows, joy and discouragement based on personal performance, leads to
low-level despair. What am I doing wrong?
This story provides the answer. We read, “the disciples
returned with joy, saying ‘even the demons are subject to us…” Jesus, ever the
compassionate yet honest teacher, responded with two answers that are powerful
still today.
First, believers can and will do great things in God’s name
and for His cause. Even the great enemy of our souls, will at times be defeated
by great faith and deeds of Christians. We can and will do great things for God’s
kingdom if we obey and work hard together.
Second, and more importantly, great deeds for God should not
replace joy in God. If we are slave to work and productivity – the next big
event, service project, mission trip – then when those things fail we falter.
When only a few people show up to our new Bible study, when serving someone
leads to a cold shoulder, when Sunday attendance isn’t growing, our joy often
falters. To that, our Savior and King, reminds us kindly, “Nevertheless,
rejoice…your names are written in heaven.” Is it good and right to celebrate
obedience? Absolutely. Should our achievements be our deepest joy and delight?
Never.
Jesus’ response is the secret to Christian resilience. When
our ministry fails, our church closes, or our genuine love is repulsed, we
rejoice. Why? Because at the end of the day, it’s not about what we do or
accomplish. It’s not about our power. It’s not about our control. On the best
days when ministry is thriving and people growing, we rejoice above all,
because God has saved and will remember us. When we meet personal tragedies
like death, illness, and broken relationships, we still rejoice, for even then,
God has saved us and remembers us.
In short, Jesus responds to the disciples (and our)
obsession with our own work simply – do not
rejoice in what you have done, rejoice in what I have done for you. That is
the iron backbone of Christian faith. When your finances collapse – rejoice. When your friends betray you – rejoice. When your ministry
falters despite all Herculean effort, work, and generosity – rejoice.
Remember that your deepest needs have been met by the loving sacrifice of Another.
Our power is fleeting. Our success will vanish. Nevertheless, we rejoice.
