So he traveled throughout Galilee, preaching in their synagogues and driving out demons.
On this day after Christmas, I’d like to make a confession. I’m a writerly egomaniac. Sure, I churn out these little devotions with no real hope of a readership that extends beyond the single digits, but in my heart of hearts, I yearn to have the audience of J.K. Rowling and Michael Crichton combined. I want to be a household name, the sort of writer that, when he receives the Nobel Prize, evokes comments like, “But didn’t he already get that years ago?”
Perhaps I’m exaggerating here, but anyone who puts (electronic) pen to (digital) paper wants to have a decent audience to read those words. No musician wants to go unheard. No actor will be satisfied going unwatched, and no writer will want to be unread. The more readers, the better.
Shouldn’t that have been the case with Jesus? Shouldn’t he have hired a press agent and covered a lot more of the countryside? Shouldn’t he have avoided repeated visits to the same town and opted for the big cities rather than the hick towns of Galilee? I think the Judas character in Jesus Christ Superstar explored some of these ideas very well:
If you’d come today you could have reached a whole nation;
Israel in four b.c. had no mass communication.
Obviously Jesus didn’t have things very well thought out. He stayed in the backwater of Galilee and found himself repeatedly at Capernaum. If, as we read in yesterday’s verse, his whole purpose in coming was to preach to people, then he didn’t seem to work out that mission with a great deal of planning. Maybe if Jesus had only read The Purpose Driven Life.
But then Jesus knew exactly what he was doing. He knew where to preach and where not to. He visited exactly the right number of towns, exactly the right number of times. By saying this, I’m not simply uttering the platitudes of the faithful. I’m observing results. Sure, Jesus got less overall exposure than Kim Kardashian, his staying power–with a billion adherents two thousand years later–has proven very strong.
This is why, on the day after Christmas, when I examine my lack of Pulitzer prizes and my brief list of published books, I recognize that my fame might be exactly what it needs to be. Fame is not the measure of a disciple and a steward. Obedience is.