In Mark 3 Jesus brings up blasphemy, that “eternal sin,” as he calls it. This has always been troubling for me–eternal sin? Blasphemy may be more down-to-earth, though, than I thought before reading this chapter more closely. Maybe blasphemy is about the hard hearts of legalism, of doctrine, and of control. And it’s a fundamental problem when it comes to following Jesus.
At the beginning of Mark 3, knowing that he is under scrutiny and that leaders are out to get him, Jesus rises to the occasion and yet again scores with yet another discussion opportunity for the people gathered round: “Is it lawful to do good or to do harm on the sabbath, to save life or to kill?” But the people around him, at least those who want to trip him up, won’t even engage in his conversation. They stonewall. Angered, Jesus heals the man. Apparently, doing good supersedes any inhibiting interpretations of the law.
The hard heart of legalism must yield.
Then. As Jesus responds to the needs of the crowds flocking toward his sensational healing powers, demons call out that he is the Son of God. But Jesus tells them to be quiet. Why? Does he not want his true identity to be known? Is he just too busy to get into a theological debate? Is the demonic “confession” that he is the Son of God actually a sly attempt to create doctrinal division so that hearts can be hardened and the good news and works of Jesus forgotten?
The hard heart of doctrine must yield.
After Jesus goes to the mountain and chooses his disciples, he returns home. When the crowds practically mob him, his family try to restrain him. They are probably thinking, “Jesus is going to get sick or killed, with all this work and debate swirling around him. He’s not even eating or resting!”
However, instead of listening to his family, Jesus responds to some burning criticism, suggestions by some scribes in the crowd that he must have authority to cast out demons because he is in league with Satan. Jesus responds to this with a question: “How can Satan cast out Satan? If a kingdom is divided against itself,” he says, “it cannot stand.”
It makes sense, right? That Jesus is not Satan? But I’m not sure that that’s all that Jesus is saying here. Maybe he is also implying that God’s kingdom can be divided, too–that the “strong man” whose house is plundered describes God’s kingdom, too.
But that would mean that someone must be able to tie up God!
What in the world could possibly bind God? Can God even tie a knot strong enough that God can’t break free from it? Nothing, absolutely nothing, can separate us from the love of God. Right?
Wrong. Something can bind God so that the house of God can be plundered. We can. We can bind God.
Jesus says, “Truly I tell you, people will be forgiven for their sins and whatever blasphemies they utter; but whoever blasphemes against the Holy Spirit can never have forgiveness, but is guilty of an eternal sin”–for they had said, “He has an unclean spirit.”
What is blasphemy? Jesus said there are different kinds, some forgivable. The “eternal sin” kind of blasphemy to me sounds more like the dictionary definition “the crime of assuming to oneself the rights or qualities of God.” I would frame this as the crime of insisting on our own, personal authority to dismiss God’s abilities or God’s messenger–the Holy Spirit–as irrelevant or even unclean, as way beneath our own, clean status.
Blasphemy, then, is getting in the way of the Holy Spirit’s work–and of course that, as Jesus says, is an eternal sin. It binds God into our eternal separation from God.
How do we bind God? Through hard hearts of legalism? Through hard hearts of doctrinal supremacy?
What about the hard hearts of control?
Near the end of Mark 3, Jesus again resists distraction from his calling. This time the distraction comes from his family, who say, “Hey! You’re ours! Come home!” Maybe they are concerned about Jesus. Maybe they are embarrassed by him. Maybe they just want to show him that as their son and brother he must be accountable to them.
Now, I’m all for looking out for family–and so was Jesus, who condemned acts of charity to the detriment of one’s relations. But no one–related to us or not–can legitimately control the Holy Spirit’s direction. The breath of God will make it windy where it will. For anyone to even try to corral that spirit is blasphemy.
The hard heart of control must yield.
One more thought about blasphemy. Jesus called blasphemy against the Holy Spirit “eternal.” But maybe his “eternal” does not mean “forever.” I like to think of it as perpetual–for as long as we continue it. If it is ongoing, it is eternal. When we end it, however, it ends. We can stop resisting the Holy Spirit and once again join with God.
In a sense, I suspect that Jesus feels in Mark 3 that he is constantly dealing with blasphemy. He is continually up against the hardness of hearts. This hardness of hearts would choose legalism over healing, would insist on theological debate rather than true discipleship, and would attempt control instead of obedience.
Confronting our own ways of blaspheming against the Holy Spirit is hugely consequential to our lives as followers of Jesus, because the good news in Mark 3 hinges on our openness to the Holy Spirit.
The good news is that Jesus welcomes us; he includes in his family all people who do his will.
But this will is not dictated to us through laws or doctrine. In Jesus’ kindgom, legalism, doctrinal infallibility, and human directives become less–and the quiet guidance of the Holy Spirit becomes integral.
“Whoever,” Jesus says, “does the will of God is my brother and sister and mother.”
“Whoever,” Jesus says, “does the will of God is my brother and sister and mother.”
