Today on my way home from work, I listened to a cd my mother gave me that sets to music some of the key moments of Jesus' life. One of the more moving songs reminded me of a moment I've always found to be incredibly profound.
It occurred during the Last Supper, when Jesus told his apostles that one of them would betray him. Their response resonates so loudly in my soul, pushing me perhaps more than any other single verse of scripture.
Their response to the news that one of them would betray him was simple--devastatingly so: "Lord, is it I?" Matthew 26:21-22
It appears that Judas did know the Savior referred to him with the question. But the innocent ones did not know, or at least did not know with enough certainty to remove their need to ask.
I find this profound for so many reasons. These were men had already given up their lives to follow him. They had walked and talked with him and been present at some of the most significant moments of his ministry. Having given up the last few years of their lives, they would, in coming years, give up their lives once and for all, killed because of their conviction that Jesus lived. They did not lack certainty, nor did they lack understanding.
But apparently, while certain about Jesus, they were uncertain about themselves. It seems they doubted their own strengths and their own ability to be faithful. It seems that they, who knew and loved Jesus better than nearly everyone else, did not know if they were also capable of a terrible betrayal.
In our world, there is so much certainty. I am tempted to call it a plague. So many people are so often sure they are right about so very much. The news, and our individual newsfeeds, witness the loud surety that most people have. It is human nature, I suppose, to suppose that our convictions are true and right. Of course, that is not only arrogance. Most of us have arrived at certain conclusions for certain reasons, having made honest attempts to do so in good faith. Unfortunately, by definition, that makes other people wrong and, often, evil.
We have moved from, "Lord, is it I?" to "It's all you!"
It seems to me that the question the apostles asked is worth asking again today. Is it I?
Am I wrong? Am I part of the problem? This question is worth asking at work, at church, in society at large, and, especially, in relationships.
Asking that question, and placing that particular pronoun in that question requires a great degree of humility. Indeed, it is so difficult to do consistently that I begin to wonder if the apostles were perhaps not doubting themselves so much as they were demonstrating tremendous strength. Or were they simply honest enough to know that they were mixed bags, like the rest of us--competing parts of good and bad, strength and weakness, virtue and vice?
The ability of these early disciples to believe Jesus, totally and completely, to follow him by hazarding literally all they had is inspiring. But their ability to hold fast to him while questioning their own goodness, and refusing to succumb to the very human temptation of looking to blame others, that is remarkable. Stunning, in my mind.
The older I get, the more tightly I cling to a few core convictions. These have been proven in my life over and over. Among them is absolute belief in Jesus Christ and his gospel. His reality illuminates my life, as do some other truths that flow from that central source.
At the same time, I also see that I now question much that I once felt sure about, usually because I have come to understand something I did not earlier realize. Opinions I once held with perfect clarity have tended to get cloudier with time and distance. Especially when these opinions had to do with my evaluation of others, or my interactions, and my certainty of my own rightness, intelligence, and understanding.
I have learned enough to know that I am a mixed bag, as capable of folly as I am of wisdom. Actually, if I am honest, far more capable of folly than wisdom. My own imperfections and flaws bring me to me knees, seeking guidance from the only one who was not a mixture of good and bad.
And while I am on my knees, I find myself asking more often the question only I can ask, using the pronouns only I can use: Lord, is it I?
The answer is bracing. For usually, in almost any human interaction, the answer is, "Yes."
