"Truly, truly, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit." - John 12:24
I like logic. But there have been many times in my life when run-of-the-mill Christian apologetics just hasn’t cut it for me. Sure, the best-known arguments were good enough for ex-skeptic Josh McDowell when he uncovered them for himself, but that’s just it—he found the answers he needed on his own truth-seeking journey.
However, I’ve always remembered one argument in his popular book More Than a Carpenter that did strike me, and it wasn’t about facts and figures or the logic of cold, hard evidence. Rather, it was simply this: the ever-mysterious emotional, psychological, and spiritual transformation of Jesus’ disciples after the resurrection.
Details about Roman crucifixion and the weight of a first century tombstone aside, the logic surrounding the roller coaster-like emotional drama of Jesus’ closest friends is impossible to ignore. Why? It’s evidence that we can personally experience. Who hasn’t known crushed hope that “makes the heart sick” (Proverbs 13:12)? Unless you’ve managed to keep your heart tied to the ground, you’ve probably felt at least some of your dreams and deepest beliefs bullet-riddled and shot down by disappointment.
Anything that breaks your world apart demands change—and, as many express after the death of a loved one, discovery of betrayal, or a major crisis of faith, “life will never be the same.” Something else takes over: depression, anger, cynicism, bitterness. One way or another, for better or worse, disillusionment does its work.
So it’s no great leap of the imagination to know what Jesus’ disciples were dealing with—starting with that dark moment in Gethsemane when each gathered up his cloak and ran scared, straight away from the One they’d banked all their hopes on. Scripture gives us more than explicit clues: Peter (who had just sworn up and down that he’d die for Jesus, even if everyone else deserted) skulked in the shadows behind Jesus later that night, only to finally swear up and down that he didn’t know Him. Fear upon failure upon shame. John eventually found his way to the cross but had no words as he watched his Master and friend gasp raggedly for breath, his tattered body bleeding and torn.
Perhaps the two disciples walking “sad” along the road to Emmaus expressed the shattered dreams of Jesus’ followers best: “The chief priests and our rulers delivered him to the sentence of death, and crucified him; but we were hoping that it was he who was going to redeem Israel” (Luke 24:20-21). So, along with other disheartened disciples, the Eleven—those who had been closest to Jesus—hid in a locked room, afraid of the authorities. Their disillusionment was so deep that when Mary Magdalene and some other female followers reported having seen the risen Christ, most were initially unconvinced, thinking the women delusional (Luke 24:11).
Dreams Deferred
These were the same men who had bickered and fought for position throughout Jesus’ ministry years. Now, suddenly, they faced a brutal picture of reality that evaporated not only their visions of political glory, but also freedom from Roman oppression. One can imagine the anguished, bitter thoughts that must have pummeled Simon the Zealot while Roman whips sliced the back of his silent Messiah.
As Peter had just a few days earlier reminded Jesus, they’d left “everything” behind to follow Him. And Jesus had, for the first time, promised them that “in the regeneration when the Son of Man will sit on His glorious throne, you also shall sit upon twelve thrones, judging the twelve tribes of Israel” (Matthew 19:27-28). Perhaps Jesus’ seemingly cryptic postscript to this promise only buzzed incomprehensibly in their heads later: “But many who are first will be last; and the last, first.” (v. 30).
Their dreams were dashed. What meaning were they now supposed to extract or manufacture out of their Master’s devastating crucifixion? After all, these same disciples had failed to grasp far less bewildering things, even after countless repetitions. They’d shooed children away from Him almost immediately after He’d told them to become like a child if they wanted to be great in God’s kingdom (Matthew 18:3; 19:13-15). They’d heard Jesus predict His death and resurrection umpteen times—and yet were so intent on ignoring Him that no one even ventured to ask questions about why the subject was so important.
Here’s just a sampling from the Gospels’ record of the disciples’ complete incomprehension: “Do you not yet understand?” (Matthew 16:9) “Do you not understand?” (Mark 4:13) “But they did not understand this statement ” (Mark 9:32 niv). “But they did not understand the statementwhich he had made to them ” (Luke 2:50). “The disciples understood none of these things” (Luke 18:34). “We do not know what He is talking about” (John 16:18). “For as yet they did not understand . . .” (John 20:9). And therein lies the key. If Jesus didn’t rise from the dead, would we see Peter, in Acts 2, calmly addressing the Pentecost crowd (who had just accused the Spirit-filled disciples of drunkenness) with wisdom and understanding? Would Peter and John have stood before the Sanhedrin, testifying to Christ’s resurrection with confidence, eloquence, and again, calmness? And if the disciples actually had stolen the body (as the guards were reportedly paid to tell the public), would they have had the heart to plow headfirst into a hostile environment, all to preach their unfounded—and, therefore, deceptive—hope? Would they have given up their lives, willingly being run through (Matthew, Thomas), beheaded (James, Paul), crucified (Peter, Andrew)?
Well, some skeptics think so, based on the belief that sources documenting the martyrdoms of early Christians aren’t reliable enough—or that history has shown other deluded cult followers willing to die for a fabricated cause. Self-professed atheist Dave Matson says, “Perhaps the disciples initially believed Jesus’ claims and were later too entrenched in their belief to admit that they had been wrong. Psychologically, they may have had too much at stake to simply back out. Perhaps, after a period of initial depression and confusion, they had forced themselves via group reinforcement to believe that Jesus had risen even though none of them had actually witnessed the event.”
I’d actually be willing to consider this explanation, were the Gospels not rife with the disciples’ previous fallacies, unbelief, failures, and other embarrassments. People trying to uphold their delusion (or deliberate false teaching) aren’t anywhere near as candid in testimony about their most humiliating failures, particularly the more private ones with few witnesses. I don’t deny that there have been plenty of human transformations based on false beliefs or delusional experience. But I doubt that anything measures up to the depth of the disciples’ disillusionment— or, more notably, the balance and consistency of their revolutionized post-resurrection behavior.
Hope Reinstated
I’ve experienced disillusionment, disappointment, and depression enough times in life to know that heart-sickness isn’t cured by time alone. It can only be dulled by time—or gradually healed by hope. Or, if the cause of disappointment ends up being radically reversed and far better than what you’d hoped (think: the end of a Jane Austen novel), well, then, healing probably isn’t necessary. You’re catapulted into an entirely new, happy reality.
John, who along with his brother James had arrogantly threatened to “command fire to come down from heaven” (Luke 9:54) to destroy people who rejected Jesus—and who’d also asked Jesus to make them second in power when He established His rule in Israel (Mark 10:37)—offers retrospective comments throughout his eyewitness account. He doesn’t launch into explanations of how he wisely understood what Jesus was saying at the time, but rather speaks with joy about what he and the others came to understand after the resurrection (John 12:16).
They’d argued about position and greatness constantly, and ignored the idea that the kingdom of God might not be anything like their visions (i.e., a restored and more powerful kingdom of Israel). So how could their pride, self-centeredness, and fear have transfigured into humility, compassion, and unshakable confidence, simply due to “group reinforcement” or concern for their own reputations?
An earth-shattering paradigm shift had taken place. When the Lord, kneeling with a servant’s basin began to wash the disciples’ feet, Peter balked at this almost embarrassing, out-of-place display. Jesus told him, “What I do you do not realize now, but you will understand hereafter” (John 13:6-7).
As the leader of the early church, Peter understood soon enough. Because Jesus was who He said He was—because every seed He had planted in Peter’s heart through those stumbling years “died” to become something greater—because the resurrection was real—Peter was transformed. The resurrection meant that his most bitter failures were forgiven. It meant he had nothing to prove, because he was fully loved and a vital part of something so much bigger than his own small visions. And that’s why, confident and focused, he and his fellow disciples underwent the greatest miracle of all: they became servants.
It’s the sort of strange logic that makes me believe.
John, who along with his brother James had arrogantly threatened to “command fire to come down from heaven” (Luke 9:54) to destroy people who rejected Jesus—and who’d also asked Jesus to make them second in power when He established His rule in Israel (Mark 10:37)—offers retrospective comments throughout his eyewitness account. He doesn’t launch into explanations of how he wisely understood what Jesus was saying at the time, but rather speaks with joy about what he and the others came to understand after the resurrection (John 12:16).
They’d argued about position and greatness constantly, and ignored the idea that the kingdom of God might not be anything like their visions (i.e., a restored and more powerful kingdom of Israel). So how could their pride, self-centeredness, and fear have transfigured into humility, compassion, and unshakable confidence, simply due to “group reinforcement” or concern for their own reputations?
An earth-shattering paradigm shift had taken place. When the Lord, kneeling with a servant’s basin began to wash the disciples’ feet, Peter balked at this almost embarrassing, out-of-place display. Jesus told him, “What I do you do not realize now, but you will understand hereafter” (John 13:6-7).
As the leader of the early church, Peter understood soon enough. Because Jesus was who He said He was—because every seed He had planted in Peter’s heart through those stumbling years “died” to become something greater—because the resurrection was real—Peter was transformed. The resurrection meant that his most bitter failures were forgiven. It meant he had nothing to prove, because he was fully loved and a vital part of something so much bigger than his own small visions. And that’s why, confident and focused, he and his fellow disciples underwent the greatest miracle of all: they became servants.
It’s the sort of strange logic that makes me believe.
~ Dr. Charles Stanley
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