When I was young, a friend of the family came over and heard me play the piano. And he told me, “You have such a musical gift. You have to make the most of it!” It wasn’t just the ordinary, “Oh, good job, keep on going,” kind of a comment. This person was vehement that it would be essentially a crime if I didn’t continue to pursue music, keep practicing, and live up to my potential.
Do you get that sense from the world? If you’re good at something, you are morally obligated to develop that skill. You owe it to yourself. You owe it to the world. You have to get better.
Problem was, I hated practicing piano. I liked being good at piano. Hated practicing. In high school I was pretty tortured by this idea, that I was betraying my gift because I was too lazy to practice. Not only that, I had spent so many years learning piano, it felt like a waste of all those years as well to give it up.
I felt a similar pressure at school. I was good at piano, but I was GREAT at school. I knew how to give each teacher exactly what they wanted. I knew how to get the A. And it was a given in my mind: if I could, then I must.
This is what I mean by: the world hates the lowest place. Everything trajectory must point upward. Over time, if I’m not improving, then I’m wasting.
In Jesus’ ministry, there is a fascinating turning point. He lives as a traveling preacher/miracle worker for three years. He does many amazing signs, culminating in the resurrection of Lazarus, a man dead three days.
This is a very public miracle. Jesus was famous before that; afterward, he’s a superstar. When he rides into Jerusalem, crowds and crowds of people come out to meet him, throw palms at his feet, and call him the king.
Even his enemies essentially give up hope at this point:
“So the Pharisees said to one another, ‘You see that you are gaining nothing. Look, the world has gone after him.'” (John 12:19)
This should have been Jesus’ moment! He had the whole country within his grasp! He could have been king!
And yet the very next thing he says to his disciples is this:
“The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified.” (John 12:23)–Sounds good, sounds like he’s going to step up, take the throne, live up to his potential. And then he makes a 180:
“Truly, truly, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls to the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies it bears much fruit.” (John 12:24)
And then he spends a few days at the temple, he talks to his disciples for a long time in the upper room, he gets arrested, and dies.
Seems like such a waste of potential. He could have had such an impact on the world. He could have freed his people from the Romans. He could have healed thousands more. He could have had thirty more years of impactful ministry. And he throws it all away to go die.
But we’re on the other side of history, we know the truth: that in dying, Jesus changed the world more fully and completely than anything he could have possibly done while he was alive.
And Jesus knew it too. He said, “UNLESS a grain of wheat falls to the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies it bears much fruit.” For the grain of wheat, dying was the very thing that allowed it to fulfill its true potential, to grow into a wheat plant.
For Jesus, dying was the very thing that allowed him to fulfill his true potential as savior of the world.
What does this mean for me, for you? What potential do you have in this world? What potential do you have for eternity?
I have all this restless desire inside of me. I want to do more, be more, have more of an impact. But I can’t get around it: if I’m going to really believe Jesus, then the road to truly fulfilling my potential lies through the lowest place.
The Lowest Place 