In Matthew 12, certain Scribes and Pharisees came to Jesus asking him to show them a “sign” (verse 38).
Perhaps they wanted to see one of his famous trademark miracles with their own eyes – a lame man walking, a blind man seeing, or if they really got lucky, and the rumours of Jairus’ daughter were anything to go by, perhaps even a bona fide raising-from-the-dead.
Perhaps they had something a little more personal in mind, and they were expecting some kind of supernatural endorsement of their own position of religious authority, right in front of the crowds of “ordinary” people who, let’s face it, need to be reminded who’s boss every now and again.
Perhaps they had much bigger fish to fry, and were looking for Jesus to “restore again the kingdom to Israel” (Acts 1:6), put the “heathen” in their place, and “command fire to come down from heaven, and consume [the lot of] them [!]” (Luke 9:54).
Jesus’ answer to all such demands for a “sign” was…
12:39 …An evil and adulterous generation seeketh after a sign; and there shall no sign be given to it, but the sign of the prophet Jonas:
It seems the only sign he had to offer them – the only sign he could offer an expectant world – was not liberation from oppression and persecution, an end to corruption and hypocrisy in high places, the eradication of sickness, death and disease…
It seems the only sign he had to offer was the sign of Jonah (Jonas), the sign of his own exposure to the most brutal oppression and persecution, the sign of his own run-in with corruption and hypocrisy in high places, the sign of his own suffering and death.
12:40 For as Jonas was three days and three nights in the whale's belly; so shall the Son of man be three days and three nights in the heart of the earth.
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In John 6, the crowds whom Jesus had miraculously fed out of a “lad’s” meagre lunchbox, tracked him down again the next day and asked him (verse 30), “What sign shewest thou then, that we may see, and believe thee?”
Jesus in effect replied (verse 26), “You don’t want a sign, you want a meal ticket!”
You have to smile at the totally shameless persistence of them: “We like you Jesus. You’ve got real potential. Some of us are ready to take you right now and make you king by force if need be (verse 15). But God gave our ancestors manna to eat in the desert (verse 31), and if you’re really who you claim to be, you need to start putting your money where our mouths are!”
You also have to smile at the endlessly longsuffering love of Jesus: “If you people want a meal ticket, I’ll give you a meal ticket! For I am indeed your meal ticket. I am the true bread of life. Come to me and eat this bread – my body broken for you – and you will never hunger again (verses 35 and 51), and I will be in you (verses 56-58), and by me you will live forever!”
And John tells us that “from that time many of his disciples went back, and walked no more with him” (verse 66).
Because it seems the only sign he had to offer them was the sign of Jonah, the sign of his broken body, the sign of his death.
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What sign do I come to Jesus, “seeking after”?
Do I want some kind of supernatural endorsement of the work I’ve taken on for him? Deep down, do I secretly fear that there’s more of ambition than devotion in it? Deep down, do I fear the only person I’ve ever really served is… myself?
Do I hanker after the “signs” of his presence, the peace he gives, the assurance, the confidence?
Do I want to see signs of his transforming power in me, making me a better, nicer person, more patient, more kind, more caring, more considerate?
Do I find myself standing at the crossroads, looking out on an uncertain and somewhat daunting future, without a road-sign in sight, or a satnav even remotely capable of pointing out the way?
Do I come to Jesus “seeking after a sign”, and find that the only sign he has to offer me is the sign of Jonah, the sign of his death?
If I’ve been “seeking after a sign” and find that “no sign is given me”, perhaps it’s just that I’ve been looking for all the wrong signs in all the wrong places. Perhaps the only sign I really need has already been given me, was given me two thousand years ago, on a hill outside Jerusalem. Perhaps, as I take the true bread of life, as he becomes one with me, as I become identified with his death, and yet by him live forever, perhaps then my whole life becomes a “sign” – a sign to others, but mostly a sign to myself – a sign of what life could be, of what life should be, of how God can take the most meagre of “lunchboxes”, and make it a feast to last for all eternity.
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Psalm 119 seems to say in half a verse more than I could ever hope to articulate with all my “much speaking”…
119:17 …that I may live, and keep thy word.
God’s sign to us, is a sign in us.
His sign is that I simply live my life, with all its ups and downs, its triumph and disaster, and live it keeping alongside him, keeping in step with him, keeping true to his life in me.
To live, and keep living out the life of Christ, which is in me.
To live, keeping in perfect time with his life in me, while he “improvises” something uniquely beautiful around the simple, steady “theme” of my life.
Perhaps, if I were to truly see a sign like that in my life, then I’d be forced to agree that one sign can indeed be the only sign anyone ever really needs.
