“Just Folks”

Since I first learned to read, one of my favorite verses of Scripture has been Luke 2:52: “And Jesus increased in wisdom and stature, and in favor with God and men.”

For all of the power and glory that was and is His in the Spirit, in the flesh Jesus was like other men. (We do not say that Jesus was exactly like other men, nor that He was merely human, for Scripture clearly teaches that though fully human, Christ was also fully divine, and in that respect like no other man who ever lived — see John 1:14; Colossians 1:19 and 2:9.) In the flesh, Jesus developed as young men do. He got tired. He became hungry and thirsty. He endured physical labor. He liked to talk with the older men in the synagogue. He enjoyed the company of friends. He attended weddings and funerals. He was kind to children. He loved His mother. He took boat rides.

Though He was to be called “Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace” (Isaiah 9:6), Jesus put on no airs. He did not expect people to come before Him bowing and scraping. He wore no ring for people to kiss when they entered His presence. All kinds of people felt welcome to approach Him — tax collectors like Zacchaeus, sinners like the woman at Simon the Pharisee’s house, foreigners like the Roman centurion, outsiders like the Syrophoenician woman, social outcasts like the woman at Jacob’s well, noblemen like Jairus, rulers like Nicodemus, blind beggars like Bartimaeus, and little children like those of whom He said, “Of such is the kingdom of heaven.” Jesus could have demanded honor, as He who wears the name at which every knee should bow. But rather than having others kneel before Him, He knelt before His own apostles and washed their filthy feet.

And when Jesus chose those apostles, what manner of men did He select? Did he go to where the Sanhedrin met, the leading men among the Jews, and choose from among those in the highest seats? Did he visit the palace of the Herods, and make His selection from those who dined at the banquet table? Did he go to the house of the governor, Pontius Pilate, and appoint Caesar’s finest? No, He did not.

Instead, Jesus called Andrew the fisherman, and his brother Simon Peter. He called James and John, two young men who fished with their father. He called Philip, whose best friend Nathanael was a man without guile. He called Matthew Levi, the tax collector. He called Thomas, who didn’t believe anything until he saw it. Jesus called James the son of Alphaeus, a fellow so unremarkable that all we know of him is that he was younger than the other James. Jesus called Simon, who had belonged to an obscure religious sect called the Cananeans. He called Judas Thaddaeus, notable mostly for not being the other Judas, whom Jesus also chose, knowing that he was a liar and a thief and a betrayer. Just folks, like you might know from the office or meet at the barbershop.

“For you see your calling, brethren, that not many wise according to the flesh, not many mighty, not many noble, are called. But God has chosen the foolish things of the world to put to shame the wise, and God has chosen the weak things of the world to put to shame the things which are mighty; and the base things of the world and the things which are despised God has chosen, and the things which are not, to bring to nothing the things that are” (1 Corinthians 1:26-28).

Look around you. The disciples of Jesus are just plain folks. Not smarter than others. Not richer. Not more powerful. Not better looking. And you could be one of them, if you will only believe and obey (Mark 16:16; Acts 2:38).

Michael D. Rankins, “The Lord’s Day,” April 13, 2008

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