Twelve Ordinary Men: How the Master Shaped His Disciples for Greatness, and What He Wants to Do with You

by John F. MacArthur Jr.

John learned to bear suffering willingly. There is no complaint about his sufferings anywhere

John reminds me of many seminary graduates whom I have known, including myself as a younger man. I recall when I came out of seminary. I was loaded to the gills with truth but somewhat short on patience. It was a strong temptation to come blasting into the church, dump the truth on everyone, and expect an immediate response. I needed to learn patience, tolerance, mercy, grace, forgiveness, tenderness, compassion—all the characteristics of love. It is wonderful to be bold and thunderous, but love is the necessary balance. John is a superb model for such young men.

It may seem amazing that Jesus loved a man who wanted to burn up the Samaritans. He loved a man who was obsessed with status and position. He loved a man who forsook Him and fled rather than suffer for His sake. But in loving John, Jesus transformed him into a different man—a man who modeled the same kind of love Jesus had shown him.

I think the Lord knew that the most powerful advocate of love needed to be a man who never compromised the truth.

John died, by most accounts, around A.D. 98, during the reign of JOHN Emperor Trajan. Jerome says in his commentary on Galatians that the aged apostle John was so frail in his final days at Ephesus that he had to be carried into the church. One phrase was constantly on his lips: "My little children, love one another." Asked why he always said this, he replied, "It is the Lord's command, and if this alone be done, it is enough."

All the vignettes of Philip appear in the Gospel of John.

Piecing together all that the apostle John records about him, it seems Philip was a classic "process person." He was a facts-and-figures guy—a by-the-book, practical-minded, non-forward-thinking type of individual. He was the kind who tends to be a corporate killjoy, pessimistic, narrowly focused, sometimes missing the big picture, often obsessed with identifying reasons things can't be done rather than finding ways to do them. He was predisposed to be a pragmatist and a cynic—and sometimes a defeatist—rather than a visionary.

The fact that Philip introduced Jesus this way suggests that Nathanael knew the Old Testament prophecies. This probably indicates that Nathanael and Philip were students of the Old Testament together. In all likelihood, they had come to the wilderness to hear John the Baptist together. They had a shared interest in the fulfillment of Old Testament prophecy. Philip obviously knew the news of Jesus would excite Nathanael. Notice that he didn't say to him, "I found a man who has a wonderful plan for your life." He didn't say, "I found a man who will fix your marriage and your personal problems and give your life meaning." He didn't appeal to Nathanael on the basis of how Jesus might make Nathanael's life better. Philip spoke of Jesus as the fulfillment of Old Testament prophecies, because he knew that would pique Nathanael's interest. Nathanael, as an eager student of the Old Testament, was already a seeker after divine truth.

Nathanael, like the other apostles, stands as proof that God can take the most common people, from the most insignificant places, and use them to His glory.

Nowhere on the pages of the Gospel record did anyone ever deny the reality of Jesus' miracles. Who could deny them? There were too many, and they had been done too publicly to be dismissed by even the most skeptical gainsayers. Of course, some desperately tried to attribute Jesus' miracles to the power of Satan (Matthew 12:24). No one, however, ever denied that the miracles were real. Anyone could see that He had the power to cast out demons and do miracles at will. No one could honestly question whether He truly had power over the supernatural world. But what irritated the religious leaders was not the miracles. They could have lived with the fact that He could walk on water or that He could make food to feed thousands of people. What they could not tolerate was being called sinners. They would not acknowledge themselves as poor, prisoners, blind, and oppressed (Luke 4:18).They were too smugly self-righteous. So when Jesus came (as John the Baptist had come before Him) preaching repentance and saying they were sinners, wretched, poor, blind, lost people under the bondage of their own iniquity, needing forgiveness and cleansing—they could not and would not tolerate that. Therefore it was ultimately because of His message that they hated Him, vilified Him, and finally executed Him.

Matthew was a tax collector—a publican—when Jesus called him. That is the last credential we might expect to see from a man who would become an apostle of Christ, a top leader in the church, and a preacher of the gospel. After all, tax collectors were the most despised people in Israel.

Why did Matthew invite tax gatherers and other lowlifes? Because they were the only kind of people he knew. They were the only ones who would associate with a man like Matthew. He didn't know any of the social elite well enough to invite them to his house. He was a tax collector, and tax collectors were on the same level socially as harlots (Matthew 21:32).

Therefore Matthew's only friends were the riffraff of society—petty criminals, hoodlums, prostitutes, and their ilk. They were the ones he invited to his house to meet Jesus. Jesus and the apostles, according to Matthew's own account, gladly came and ate with such people. Of course, the people of the religious establishment were outraged and scandalized. They wasted no time voicing their criticism to the disciples. But Jesus replied by saying sick people are the very ones who need a physician. He had not come to call the self-righteous, but sinners, to repentance. In other words, there was nothing He could do for the religious elite as long as they insisted on keeping up their pious, hypocritical veneer. But people like Matthew who were prepared to confess their sin could be forgiven and redeemed.

There were two kinds of tax collectors, the Gabbai and the Mokhes. The Gabbai were general tax collectors. They collected property tax, income tax, and the poll tax.

There were two kinds of Mokhes—the Great Mokhes and the Little Mokhes. A Great Mokhes stayed behind the scenes and hired others to collect taxes for him. (Zaccheus was apparently a Great Mokhes—a "chief tax collector"—Luke 19:2). Matthew was evidently a Little Mokhes, because he manned a tax office where he dealt with people face to face (Matthew 9:9). He was the one the people saw and resented most. He was the worst of the worst. No self-respecting Jew in his right mind would ever choose to be a tax collector.

We know that Matthew knew the Old Testament very well, because his Gospel quotes the Old Testament ninety-nine times. That is more times than Mark, Luke, and John combined. Matthew obviously had extensive familiarity with the Old Testament. In fact, he quotes out of the Law, out of the Psalms, and out of the Prophets—every section of the Old Testament. So he had a good working knowledge of all the Scriptures that were available to him. He must have pursued his study of the Old Testament on his own, because he couldn't hear the Word of God explained in any synagogue. Apparently, in a quest to fill the spiritual void in his life, he had turned to the Scriptures.

It probably is fair, however, to say that Thomas was a somewhat negative person. He was a worrywart. He was a brooder. He tended to be anxious and angst-ridden. He was like Eeyore in Winnie the Pooh. He anticipated the worst all the time.

He could see nothing but disaster ahead. He was convinced Jesus was heading straight for a stoning. But if that is what the Lord was determined to do, Thomas was grimly determined to go and die with Him.

The apostles are not presented to us as mythic figures, but as real people. They are not depicted as prominent celebrities, but as ordinary men. That is why, as far as the Gospel accounts are concerned, the apostles give color and life to the descriptions of Jesus' life, but they are rarely in the foreground. They are never major role players.

Scripture deliberately records more about Jesus and His teaching than it does about the lives of these men. It all serves to remind us that the Lord loves to use weak and common people. If the faults and character flaws of the apostles seem like a mirror of your own weaknesses, take heart. These are the kinds of people the Lord delights to use.

It may well be that all these things were true of James, so that he was a small, young, quiet person who stayed mostly in the background. That would all be consistent with the low profile he had among the Twelve. We might say his distinguishing mark was his obscurity. That in itself is a significant fact. Apparently he sought no recognition. He displayed no great leadership. He asked no critical questions. He demonstrated no unusual insight. Only his name remains, while his life and his labors are immersed in obscurity. But he was one of the Twelve.

Eternity will reveal the names and the testimonies of these, like James the Less, whom this world barely remembers and knows nothing about.

It is interesting to think of such a gentle soul hanging around in the same group of four apostles as Simon the Zealot. But the Lord can use both kinds. Zealots make great preachers. But so do tender-hearted, compassionate, gentle, sweet-spirited souls like Lebbaeus Thaddaeus. Together, they contribute to a very complex and intriguing group of twelve apostles. There's at least one of every imaginable personality.

The New Testament tells us plenty about Judas—enough to accomplish two things: First, the life of Judas reminds us that it is possible to be near Christ and associate with Him closely (but superficially) and yet become utterly hardened in sin.

Judas was ordinary in every way, just like the others. It is significant that when Jesus predicted one of them would betray Him, no one pointed the finger of suspicion at Judas (Matthew 26:22-23). He was so expert in his hypocrisy that no one seemed to distrust him. But Jesus knew his heart from the beginning (John 6:64).

Judas had every opportunity to turn from his sin—as much opportunity as was ever afforded anyone. He heard numerous appeals from Christ urging him not to do the deed he was planning to do. He heard every lesson Jesus taught during His ministry. Many of those lessons applied directly to him: the parable of the unjust steward (Luke 16:1-13); the message of the wedding garment (Matthew 22:11-14); and Jesus' preaching against the love of money (Matthew 6:19-34), against greed (Luke 13:13-21), and against pride (Matthew 23:1-12). Jesus had even candidly told the Twelve, "One of you is a devil" (John 6:70). He cautioned them about the woe that would come to the person who betrayed him (Matthew 26:24).Judas listened to all of that unmoved. He never applied the lessons. He just kept up his deceit.

It was at this very point that Jesus gave the apostles a lesson in humility by washing their feet. He washed the feet of all twelve, which means He even washed the feet of Judas. Judas sat there and let Jesus wash his feet and remained utterly unmoved. The world's worst sinner was also the world's best hypocrite.

His life and his death were grotesque tragedies.

Judas is a tragic example of lost opportunity. He heard Jesus teach day in and day out for some two years. He could have asked Jesus any question he liked. He could have sought and received from the Lord any help he needed. He could have exchanged the oppressive burden of his sin for an easy yoke. Christ had given an open invitation for anyone to do so (Matthew 11:28-30). Yet in the end Judas was damned because of his own failure to heed what he heard.