Jeremy Royal Howard - Holman QuickSource Guide to Understanding Jesus

Dedicated to

My wife, Simone Howard
Eu amo minha querida Simonee
fao votos de ama-la para sempre.

Imagine that a man moves in next door to you and starts proclaiming that he is God. You are stunned at first, but this feeling soon gives way to alarm. Is the man dangerous? What might he be planning to do? Will he attempt to call down fire if your dog crosses into his yard? Will he picket your street like one of the apocalyptic crazies you've seen in the movies? And just how far will your property value plunge once he's in full swing?

You waste no time rallying the neighbors. Everyone joins in The Watch. Round-the-clock observation soon reveals what you expected from the start: except for the God complex, this man seems perfectly ordinary. He walks, dresses, sleeps, and eats like a normal man. He pays taxes. He even mows his lawn with the same brand of mower you use. What kind of God would do these things?

But you begrudgingly notice other things about him as well, things not common to mere men. He has a way of speaking about God that sends your soul soaring. He can also pierce your conscience like no one else. So far as you can judge, his every act is truly selfless. He resolves conflicts that arise among neighbors and shows no discrimination or favoritism. Rumors have it that he has done some pretty remarkable things for the sick; plus there was the amazing thing he did (or appeared to have done, you insist) on your neighbor's pool. And then there's the difference he's made in people's lives. Some folks seem like entirely new people since they started hanging out with the new guy. You begin to drop your guard a bit, but every time you start to form a decent opinion of the man he starts in again about the God thing.

This cannot be permitted to go on forever. Being a person committed to truth, one day you get a few of the neighbors together and go down to the courthouse. You dig up the old yellowed documents, the ones with the state seals and big, looping signatures. You seize the birth certificate and shout out the news: This man didn't come from heaven! Right here in plain print is his mother's name. His dad is on the certificate as well. And of all things, he was born in that ramshackle town down the road. Nothing good ever came from there!

As you bask in the glow of these discoveries, the clerk comes over to join the conversation. She has overheard your comments.

I grew up in that ramshackle town, she reports with a slight edge in her voice.

You start to apologize, but she waves you off.

I was a kid when this guy was born, she continues. She pauses to scan the room for eavesdroppers. I remember it like it was yesterday. Folks back home like to keep it all hush-hush because it's embarrassing.

What's embarrassing? you ask. The guy's God complex?

No, she quickly says but then reconsiders. Well, yes. That is sort of embarrassing. She shifts her weight and considers her next words carefully. What I meant was the things that happened surrounding his birth. It wasn't natural. She stops and looks around again. A slight sweat has broken out over her lip. What is this woman going to say?

And then she unloads it. His momma was a virgin. Sure as anything. She had never been with a man when she had that baby.

You and your friends hang there for what seems like an eternity of silence. You don't even dare to breathe as you turn her crazed words over in your mind, trying to find a different meaning, a rational meaning. And then none of you can fight it anymore. You and your pals break out in raucous laughter. A virgin birth!

Before turning to leave, the red-faced clerk says, See what I mean? People laugh like we're nuts. But I'm telling you how it happened. And it's nothing to laugh at.

You beg to differ. It is something to laugh at. But as soon as you say it, you find you can't go on laughing. Something about the lady stops you short. She's sincere, not a trace of sarcasm or deception. And then there's the man himself, the enigmatic neighbor who says he's God. He's the same as every man and yet so very different as well.

No one says a word on the way back to the car. As you all pile in, you ask aloud the questions everyone wants answered: What are we going to do with this guy? Is he God or what?

No one offers an answer. You're not even sure where to begin.

Whether you realize it or not, you face a dilemma that is similar to the one illustrated in the above scenario. Two thousand years ago, at a crossroads in time and culture, a Jewish boy was born in Roman Palestine to a woman who was reportedly a virgin. As amazing a start as that was, the boy's story only increased in wonderment as he grew older. He wowed his elders at a tender age, turned water to wine as a young man, and shortly thereafter there were reports of healings, exorcisms, and mastery over nature. People flocked to him out of love, hatred, and simple curiosity because his teachings were both inspiring and controversial. Before long the whole nation of Israel was ignited in a firestorm over his claims to divinity.

Two thousand years ago, at a crossroads in time and culture, a Jewish boy was born in Roman Palestine to a woman who was reportedly a virgin.

This man, of course, is Jesus of Nazareth. Like the man in our opening illustration, Jesus polarized all who met him. The outstanding questions he left in his wake as he strode from town to town were: What are we going to do with this guy? Is he God or what? But unlike the fictitious man in our illustration, Jesus was real, and he was killed over his radical claims and deeds. His shocking execution set the stage for an even bigger drama, his purported resurrection. Jews and Gentiles, family and friends, folks from every walk of life were deeply divided over reports that Jesus had risen from the dead. Believing this message of hope, some people gave up everything to spread the good news Jesus had brought. Others spent their lives fighting off the religious fervor that steadily built around him. Which side was right? Is Jesus dead or alive today? Your entire view of life and its ultimate purpose hangs on how you answer this question.