In my last post, I said that the Church’s talk about “call” has erred by focusing on a particular role that a person might play in a particular place (e.g. the role of pastor in a congregation). Because of this focus, the primary call of every Christian – the call to faith, hope, and love – is lost.
Why does this matter? Put simply, the call to love is the “more excellent way” (1 Cor. 12:31) apart from which a man is nothing but “a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal." (1 Cor. 13:1) And yet the Church often treats the call to love as something lesser than the “call” to ordained ministry. Perhaps we've forgotten that Jesus commends the humble love of Mary Magdalene while rebuking the bickering of the disciples over who’s the greatest.
That being said, it's also true that there are indeed particular calls to particular roles. Exhibit A: Paul was “called to be an apostle.” (Rom. 1:1) How, then, should the Church talk about the “call” to ordained ministry? Without exception, it should be made clear that all such calls are secondary expressions of the primary call to love. God’s Word is quite clear in saying two things on this point. First, particular calls in the Church are rooted in particular gifts of the Spirit. (1 Cor. 12) Second, all such gifts of the Spirit have no merit or purpose apart from the gift of love. (1 Cor. 13)
This means that the spiritual gifts and the particular calls that grow out of them are not for the glorification of the person who’s called, but for the edification of the other members of Christ’s Body. (Eph. 4:12) And even more humbling for those called to ordained ministry, “God has so arranged the Body, giving the greater honor to the inferior member.” (1 Cor. 12:24) Do the members of Christ’s Body, and especially those in higher positions, really believe this?
Ultimately, anyone considering what his particular call might be would do well to base all such discernment on questions of love. That is, how might one walk in Christ’s humble way of love? How might one live in accord with the description of love given in 1 Corinthians 13? And how might one strive for and use the gifts of Christ’s Spirit not for his own benefit, but for the edification of Christ’s Body?
Not everyone is an apostle, prophet, teacher, or speaker-of-tongues (take that, Pentecostals!). In the End, all of the particular calls in the Church and all of the roles played in this thing called life will cease. (1 Cor. 13:8) Thus, infinitely more important than the roles we play is the Way in which we play them. For the roles are temporal, but the Way of faith, hope, and love is eternal.
“Faith, hope, and love abide, these three; and the greatest of these is love.” (1 Cor. 13:13)
Sunday, May 6, 2012
Sunday, April 22, 2012
My First Call
If I were a betting man – which I’m not, but if I were – I’d bet that the title of this post has most people thinking about a particular church to which I might be going after graduating from seminary next month. And, at that particular church, I would be responsible for doing a particular thing, namely Word and Sacrament ministry. That, indeed, is what most talk about “call” refers to.
I think the Church should be very reluctant to speak about call in such a way. Why? A few reasons. First, acting as if God’s call is some hidden thing that Christians must first decipher and then fulfill is an error that does much harm. That is, it tends to make Christians worry about something that has no clear command of God. Also, it tends to distract from the much simpler (but infinitely more important) call to faith, hope, and love.
Rather than focusing on those three theological virtues, the way the Church talks about God’s call tends to act as if God’s Kingdom will be found if/when one reaches a particular station in life. In pursuit of that station – that “call,” as we like to say – it’s not uncommon for a man to act in ways that flatly contradict the Way of Christ. Why? Because he’s decided what God’s “call” is and, doggone it, he’s going to fulfill it. In the meantime, it’s as if he has no call in the here and now – as if the daily task of discipleship is something he can ignore until later.
The true call of Christians is much less complicated. It’s probably more modest than imagined, but that doesn’t make it less pleasing to God. At its core, it’s a call not to a particular station in life, but to love. Instead of the misguided (and sometimes downright sinful) pursuit of a particular job or place, the Christian vocation of love calls for patience and kindness. Moreover, it calls for a heart that does not insist on its own way. (1 Corinthians 13:4, 5)
Love is the first and enduring call of every Christian. It’s a humble vocation, and yet it’s the highest vocation there is. For that reason, the work of a pastor is no more meritorious than the work of a mother, a teacher, an accountant, or a young child. Why? “For in Christ Jesus neither circumcision nor uncircumcision counts for anything, but only faith working through love.” (Galatians 5:6)
Ultimately, the true call of God cuts through all the confusing talk about being called to seminary or to a particular church or to a particular station in life. The true call is simple: faith in and obedience to Jesus Christ, even and especially as one attends to the daily tasks in life. Any talk about “call” in the Church would be much more faithful to the witness of Scripture – not to mention much more edifying to the Christian soul – if it had this focus.
* Final note: It’s worth admitting that Scripture does occasionally (though infrequently) speak about people having a call to a particular role. For example, the apostle Paul described himself in Romans 1:1 as “called to be an apostle.” (And not everyone is an apostle. See 1 Corinthians 12:29.) What can be made of this? That’ll be the topic of my next post. For now it suffices to say that such particular calls are manifestations of the overarching call to love.
I think the Church should be very reluctant to speak about call in such a way. Why? A few reasons. First, acting as if God’s call is some hidden thing that Christians must first decipher and then fulfill is an error that does much harm. That is, it tends to make Christians worry about something that has no clear command of God. Also, it tends to distract from the much simpler (but infinitely more important) call to faith, hope, and love.
Rather than focusing on those three theological virtues, the way the Church talks about God’s call tends to act as if God’s Kingdom will be found if/when one reaches a particular station in life. In pursuit of that station – that “call,” as we like to say – it’s not uncommon for a man to act in ways that flatly contradict the Way of Christ. Why? Because he’s decided what God’s “call” is and, doggone it, he’s going to fulfill it. In the meantime, it’s as if he has no call in the here and now – as if the daily task of discipleship is something he can ignore until later.
The true call of Christians is much less complicated. It’s probably more modest than imagined, but that doesn’t make it less pleasing to God. At its core, it’s a call not to a particular station in life, but to love. Instead of the misguided (and sometimes downright sinful) pursuit of a particular job or place, the Christian vocation of love calls for patience and kindness. Moreover, it calls for a heart that does not insist on its own way. (1 Corinthians 13:4, 5)
Love is the first and enduring call of every Christian. It’s a humble vocation, and yet it’s the highest vocation there is. For that reason, the work of a pastor is no more meritorious than the work of a mother, a teacher, an accountant, or a young child. Why? “For in Christ Jesus neither circumcision nor uncircumcision counts for anything, but only faith working through love.” (Galatians 5:6)
Ultimately, the true call of God cuts through all the confusing talk about being called to seminary or to a particular church or to a particular station in life. The true call is simple: faith in and obedience to Jesus Christ, even and especially as one attends to the daily tasks in life. Any talk about “call” in the Church would be much more faithful to the witness of Scripture – not to mention much more edifying to the Christian soul – if it had this focus.
* Final note: It’s worth admitting that Scripture does occasionally (though infrequently) speak about people having a call to a particular role. For example, the apostle Paul described himself in Romans 1:1 as “called to be an apostle.” (And not everyone is an apostle. See 1 Corinthians 12:29.) What can be made of this? That’ll be the topic of my next post. For now it suffices to say that such particular calls are manifestations of the overarching call to love.
Saturday, April 7, 2012
Holy Saturday, Easter Sunday, and the True Sabbath
Ever heard that Sunday is the new Sabbath? Or how about the claim that because Sunday is the new Sabbath, one must observe it by going to Church? After all, God has commanded that we “remember the Sabbath day, and keep it holy.” (Exodus 20:8) And what if one doesn’t observe the new Sabbath? Then he has sinned against God’s commandment, right?
There’s one major problem with that line of thought. Namely, it doesn’t square with the Word of God. Note the following: “Do not let anyone condemn you in matters of food and drink or of observing festivals, new moons, or Sabbaths.” (Colossians 2:16) Or this one: “You are observing special days, and months, and seasons, and years. I am afraid that my work for you may have been wasted.” (Galatians 4:10-11)
If one is to take God’s Word seriously, then he must say that this idea that Sunday is the new Sabbath – and, therefore, that one must go to Church on Sundays – simply isn’t true. The observation of special days – including Sundays and even including Church holy-days like Christmas and Easter – is not necessary. (Does the Church have the guts to say this? I think she would, if only she’d consider the following…)
Why, then, should one ever go to Church? To answer that question, it helps to ask a slightly different one: what’s necessary in the Christian life? According to Jesus, just one thing is necessary: to sit at his feet, just like Mary Magdalene, and listen to what he says. Mary’s posture is one of faith, and Jesus’ approval is instructive: “There is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from her.” (Luke 10:42)
* Side note: this emphasis on the faith of Mary Magdalene is not to say that love is not a primary – and necessary – characteristic of the Christian life. Indeed, one can hear Jesus insofar as he lives in obedience to him who says, “I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another.” (John 13:34)
If listening to Jesus is all it takes to be a Christian, then why should one ever go to Church? The answer is simple: the point of gathering for Church is in fact to sit at the feet of Jesus and listen to what he says. It is in the Church’s gathering that Jesus is truly present (Matthew 18:20), speaking to his people and revealing himself to them in Bread and Wine. (Luke 24:30-31)
The Church is the Body of Christ, and the gathering together of her members is a good and salutary thing wherein God’s Word is spoken to God’s people. It doesn’t have to be on Sunday, but it seems fitting since that’s the day on which Jesus rose from the dead. In other words, Sunday is a fitting day to gather because it was on a Sunday that Jesus rose into the true and eternal Sabbath, thereby opening the way to the Eighth Day and the New Creation. (But again, fitting doesn’t mean necessary.)
Now there’s one more question: what should one do with the third commandment about keeping the Sabbath? Sometimes there’s the idea that one can just pick any day of the week, dedicate it to rest and relaxation, and – bam! – Sabbath observance is covered. That’s not a bad thing, but I think there’s something more substantial to observing the Sabbath.
It’s good to remember that “the law has only a shadow of the good things to come” (Hebrews 10:1) and that “the substance belongs to Christ.” (Colossians 2:17) And what does one see in Christ, the substance of God’s law? He sees that the true Sabbath – commanded by God for all to observe – is found not in mere non-action, but in self-denial and cross-bearing for the sake of love.
The meaning of the true Sabbath can be found in what the Church calls Holy Saturday – the day on which Jesus lay dead before he was raised on Easter Sunday. The true keepers of the Sabbath, then, are those who deny themselves so that they may follow Christ to the cross. And how is this good news? Lest one forget, Jesus Christ is risen (Happy Easter!), and those who die with him are also raised to new life (Happy Easter indeed!). They are raised, that is, into the eternal Sabbath, where true rest and blessedness are found.
All of this is to say that the true Sabbath is observed not in devotion to special days, but in devotion to Jesus Christ. It is observed in following the One who lay dead on Holy Saturday and rose into the eternal Sabbath on Easter Sunday. In such devotion to Christ, God’s commandment to observe the Sabbath is fulfilled in spirit and truth. It is those devoted to this life of discipleship that join Mary Magdalene at Jesus’ feet. And ultimately, they do so with the hope that they will enter Mary’s Easter-morning joy, since she was the first to see the One who had risen into the true and eternal Sabbath. (John 20:11-18)
There’s one major problem with that line of thought. Namely, it doesn’t square with the Word of God. Note the following: “Do not let anyone condemn you in matters of food and drink or of observing festivals, new moons, or Sabbaths.” (Colossians 2:16) Or this one: “You are observing special days, and months, and seasons, and years. I am afraid that my work for you may have been wasted.” (Galatians 4:10-11)
If one is to take God’s Word seriously, then he must say that this idea that Sunday is the new Sabbath – and, therefore, that one must go to Church on Sundays – simply isn’t true. The observation of special days – including Sundays and even including Church holy-days like Christmas and Easter – is not necessary. (Does the Church have the guts to say this? I think she would, if only she’d consider the following…)
Why, then, should one ever go to Church? To answer that question, it helps to ask a slightly different one: what’s necessary in the Christian life? According to Jesus, just one thing is necessary: to sit at his feet, just like Mary Magdalene, and listen to what he says. Mary’s posture is one of faith, and Jesus’ approval is instructive: “There is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from her.” (Luke 10:42)
* Side note: this emphasis on the faith of Mary Magdalene is not to say that love is not a primary – and necessary – characteristic of the Christian life. Indeed, one can hear Jesus insofar as he lives in obedience to him who says, “I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another.” (John 13:34)
If listening to Jesus is all it takes to be a Christian, then why should one ever go to Church? The answer is simple: the point of gathering for Church is in fact to sit at the feet of Jesus and listen to what he says. It is in the Church’s gathering that Jesus is truly present (Matthew 18:20), speaking to his people and revealing himself to them in Bread and Wine. (Luke 24:30-31)
The Church is the Body of Christ, and the gathering together of her members is a good and salutary thing wherein God’s Word is spoken to God’s people. It doesn’t have to be on Sunday, but it seems fitting since that’s the day on which Jesus rose from the dead. In other words, Sunday is a fitting day to gather because it was on a Sunday that Jesus rose into the true and eternal Sabbath, thereby opening the way to the Eighth Day and the New Creation. (But again, fitting doesn’t mean necessary.)
Now there’s one more question: what should one do with the third commandment about keeping the Sabbath? Sometimes there’s the idea that one can just pick any day of the week, dedicate it to rest and relaxation, and – bam! – Sabbath observance is covered. That’s not a bad thing, but I think there’s something more substantial to observing the Sabbath.
It’s good to remember that “the law has only a shadow of the good things to come” (Hebrews 10:1) and that “the substance belongs to Christ.” (Colossians 2:17) And what does one see in Christ, the substance of God’s law? He sees that the true Sabbath – commanded by God for all to observe – is found not in mere non-action, but in self-denial and cross-bearing for the sake of love.
The meaning of the true Sabbath can be found in what the Church calls Holy Saturday – the day on which Jesus lay dead before he was raised on Easter Sunday. The true keepers of the Sabbath, then, are those who deny themselves so that they may follow Christ to the cross. And how is this good news? Lest one forget, Jesus Christ is risen (Happy Easter!), and those who die with him are also raised to new life (Happy Easter indeed!). They are raised, that is, into the eternal Sabbath, where true rest and blessedness are found.
All of this is to say that the true Sabbath is observed not in devotion to special days, but in devotion to Jesus Christ. It is observed in following the One who lay dead on Holy Saturday and rose into the eternal Sabbath on Easter Sunday. In such devotion to Christ, God’s commandment to observe the Sabbath is fulfilled in spirit and truth. It is those devoted to this life of discipleship that join Mary Magdalene at Jesus’ feet. And ultimately, they do so with the hope that they will enter Mary’s Easter-morning joy, since she was the first to see the One who had risen into the true and eternal Sabbath. (John 20:11-18)
Saturday, March 24, 2012
Two Good (and One Great) Quotes
The Reformers – whether following Calvin or Luther – were unanimous in saying that one’s blessedness is the unmerited gift of God. That is, true righteousness comes through faith alone in Christ alone. It’s not the result of works, so that no one may boast. (Ephesians 2:9)
So far, so good. However, sometimes this confession of God’s grace is turned into an excuse for persisting in sin. It’s believed (quite wrongly) that one can receive the Spirit of Christ and go on living just like before. It’s as if the living Spirit of Christ makes no real difference, and that He can be called one's Lord even as false gods continue to be the true lord of one’s soul.
For all the good of the Protestant confession, this potential for distortion is a major weakness. However, in the past week I’ve come across the following two quotes – one from Calvin, one from Luther – which make it clear that the Reformers had no desire to support some sort of dead faith without works:
“It is indeed true, that we are justified in Christ through the mercy of God alone; but it is equally true and certain, that all who are justified are called by the Lord, that they may live worthy of their vocation. Let then the faithful learn to embrace him, not only for justification, but also for sanctification, as he has been given to us for both these purposes, lest they rend him asunder by their mutilated faith.” John Calvin
“There is no justification without sanctification, no forgiveness without renewal of life, no real faith from which the fruits of new obedience do not grow.” Martin Luther
Who would have guessed that neither Calvin nor Luther was an advocate for a merely forensic justification? Even if forensic justification might momentarily make us feel good about ourselves – “No matter how I live, God thinks I’m great!” – the fact that it makes no real difference in our lives goes to show that it’s a mockery of God’s grace. The real Jesus is alive, and his Spirit reigns in those who truly believe. When we're tempted to believe otherwise, we would do well to read (and we would do better to believe) Galatians 6:7-9:
“Do not be deceived; God is not mocked, for you reap whatever you sow. If you sow to your own flesh, you will reap corruption from the flesh; but if you sow to the Spirit, you will reap eternal life from the Spirit. So let us not grow weary in doing what is right, for we will reap at harvest time, if we do not give up.”
So far, so good. However, sometimes this confession of God’s grace is turned into an excuse for persisting in sin. It’s believed (quite wrongly) that one can receive the Spirit of Christ and go on living just like before. It’s as if the living Spirit of Christ makes no real difference, and that He can be called one's Lord even as false gods continue to be the true lord of one’s soul.
For all the good of the Protestant confession, this potential for distortion is a major weakness. However, in the past week I’ve come across the following two quotes – one from Calvin, one from Luther – which make it clear that the Reformers had no desire to support some sort of dead faith without works:
“It is indeed true, that we are justified in Christ through the mercy of God alone; but it is equally true and certain, that all who are justified are called by the Lord, that they may live worthy of their vocation. Let then the faithful learn to embrace him, not only for justification, but also for sanctification, as he has been given to us for both these purposes, lest they rend him asunder by their mutilated faith.” John Calvin
“There is no justification without sanctification, no forgiveness without renewal of life, no real faith from which the fruits of new obedience do not grow.” Martin Luther
Who would have guessed that neither Calvin nor Luther was an advocate for a merely forensic justification? Even if forensic justification might momentarily make us feel good about ourselves – “No matter how I live, God thinks I’m great!” – the fact that it makes no real difference in our lives goes to show that it’s a mockery of God’s grace. The real Jesus is alive, and his Spirit reigns in those who truly believe. When we're tempted to believe otherwise, we would do well to read (and we would do better to believe) Galatians 6:7-9:
“Do not be deceived; God is not mocked, for you reap whatever you sow. If you sow to your own flesh, you will reap corruption from the flesh; but if you sow to the Spirit, you will reap eternal life from the Spirit. So let us not grow weary in doing what is right, for we will reap at harvest time, if we do not give up.”
Sunday, March 18, 2012
Who's the Good Samaritan?
I’ve always read the parable of the Good Samaritan (in Luke 10:25-37) as an example of how we ought to live. That is, I’ve always read it as God telling us to look after the well-being of the down-and-out – regardless of the burden it puts on us, regardless of the future cost, and regardless of whether it jeopardizes our reputation or social standing.
I don’t think that way of reading the parable is wrong. After all, Jesus concludes it with, “Go and do likewise.” Nonetheless, I think there’s a hidden depth to the parable that’s too easily overlooked. It might seem like a stretch, but here goes nothing…
Jesus is the Good Samaritan, and we’re the man who made the mistake of leaving Jerusalem – the Jerusalem above, that is. (Galatians 4:26) Because of that mistake, we “fell into the hands of robbers” and we were left “half dead”. And yet Jesus is the Good Samaritan who draws near to the wounded man (us!) and is “moved with pity.” He bandages the wounds and brings the man to an inn (the Church!) where the care and restoration of the man's soul continues. The Good Samaritan named Jesus leaves, but puts the continued healing of the man into the hands of an innkeeper (a pastor!).
Then Jesus promises the innkeeper that he’ll come back and repay whatever costs are incurred. Something tells me that both the innkeeper and the now-healing man will be overjoyed on the Day of Jesus’ return. In the meantime, they live in the hope of Jesus’ promise. Of course, the man who has received the care of the original Good Samaritan (Jesus) and whose rehab continues at the inn (the Church) is not just a patient waiting for his Physician’s return. Even as his soul continues to be healed at the inn, Jesus gives him a task: “Go and do likewise.” (Luke 10:37)
Jesus’ commandment can’t be ignored, lest the man lose his place at the inn and become like those who passed him by as he lay dying. “Go and do likewise.” That is, love your neighbor – regardless of the burden or cost. Love your neighbor – not just when you find him loveable but when you find him period. After all, God loves the wounded man not because the man is loveable, but because God is love.
A stretch? I don’t believe so. Ultimately, the parable of the Good Samaritan is the Christian life in a nutshell. It is wholly dependent on the Good Samaritan named Jesus, and on the inn called the Church. The restoration of the wounded man continues, even as he now cares for his neighbor in the same manner that the Physician and the innkeeper continue to care for him.
I don’t think that way of reading the parable is wrong. After all, Jesus concludes it with, “Go and do likewise.” Nonetheless, I think there’s a hidden depth to the parable that’s too easily overlooked. It might seem like a stretch, but here goes nothing…
Jesus is the Good Samaritan, and we’re the man who made the mistake of leaving Jerusalem – the Jerusalem above, that is. (Galatians 4:26) Because of that mistake, we “fell into the hands of robbers” and we were left “half dead”. And yet Jesus is the Good Samaritan who draws near to the wounded man (us!) and is “moved with pity.” He bandages the wounds and brings the man to an inn (the Church!) where the care and restoration of the man's soul continues. The Good Samaritan named Jesus leaves, but puts the continued healing of the man into the hands of an innkeeper (a pastor!).
Then Jesus promises the innkeeper that he’ll come back and repay whatever costs are incurred. Something tells me that both the innkeeper and the now-healing man will be overjoyed on the Day of Jesus’ return. In the meantime, they live in the hope of Jesus’ promise. Of course, the man who has received the care of the original Good Samaritan (Jesus) and whose rehab continues at the inn (the Church) is not just a patient waiting for his Physician’s return. Even as his soul continues to be healed at the inn, Jesus gives him a task: “Go and do likewise.” (Luke 10:37)
Jesus’ commandment can’t be ignored, lest the man lose his place at the inn and become like those who passed him by as he lay dying. “Go and do likewise.” That is, love your neighbor – regardless of the burden or cost. Love your neighbor – not just when you find him loveable but when you find him period. After all, God loves the wounded man not because the man is loveable, but because God is love.
A stretch? I don’t believe so. Ultimately, the parable of the Good Samaritan is the Christian life in a nutshell. It is wholly dependent on the Good Samaritan named Jesus, and on the inn called the Church. The restoration of the wounded man continues, even as he now cares for his neighbor in the same manner that the Physician and the innkeeper continue to care for him.
Saturday, March 3, 2012
Twelve Resolutions
I mentioned in my previous post that I've been on a Jonathan Edwards "binge". Well, let the fun continue. Recently I came across his seventy "resolutions" and - partly out of admiration, partly for the sake of my own edification - I've decided to write twelve of my own. (Maybe I'll match Edwards' seventy someday, but for now twelve will do.) I'll use Edwards' preface:
"Being sensible that I am unable to do anything without God's help, I do humbly entreat him by his grace to enable me to keep these resolutions, so far as they are agreeable to his will, for Christ's sake."
1. Resolved, not to chase after vanities (especially intellectual vainglory or pride of reputation), but rather to live humbly and without pretense. Resolved, whenever I am tempted with worldliness, to cling to these words: “Friendship with the world is enmity with God.” (James 4:4)
2. Resolved, not to worry about food, drink, clothing, or the other necessities of life, but rather to pray, work, and gratefully receive these things as Providence would give them. (Matthew 6:25) Further resolved, to make Jesus’ words my own: “My food is to do the will of him who sent me.” (John 4:34)
3. Resolved, to honor those in authority over me, even when they seem unreasonable or unfair. Also resolved, to honor my father and my mother in (1) how I represent them and (2) how I treat them. And lastly, resolved, to make the apostles’ words my own: “We must obey God rather than men.” (Acts 5:29)
4. Resolved, to be a good friend by laying down my life for others. (John 15:13) Also resolved, to do this without melancholy or resentment, but with joy and thanksgiving – knowing that I am thereby participating in the love of Christ. Therefore, resolved, to present myself as a living sacrifice – this is my spiritual worship. (Romans 12:1)
5. Resolved, to care for the least of these. (Matthew 25:40) Resolved, that is, to comfort the downcast, care for the poor, befriend the lonely, and seek diligently for those in need of charity.
6. Resolved, to be a peacemaker, sowing seeds not of discord but of charity and mercy. (Matthew 5:9) Further resolved, to hold my tongue when I am tempted to gossip or backbite.
7. Resolve, to let my “yes” be “yes” and my “no” be “no”, speaking with truthfulness, simplicity, and humility. (Matthew 5:37) Further resolved, to let my speech be seasoned with salt. (Colossians 4:6) Resolved, that is, to speak the truth in love. (Ephesians 4:15)
8. Resolved, to pray without ceasing. (1 Thessalonians 5:17) Resolved, to live in prayerful conversation with my Lord, asking him for direction in matters both small and great. Further resolved, to devote myself daily to morning, afternoon, and evening prayer.
9. Resolved, to treat Holy Scripture as “the sacred writings that are able to instruct you for salvation through faith in Jesus Christ.” (2 Timothy 3:15) Therefore, resolved, to read Holy Scripture with a meditative spirit and a docile heart so that the Holy Spirit may be my teacher.
10. Resolved, never to do something I would not do if my life were being demanded of me this very night. (Luke 12:20) Resolved, never to do something I am doubtful God would approve, “for whatever does not proceed from faith is sin.” (Romans 14:23)
11. Resolved, to mortify self-love by fasting at least one day per month, dedicating the day to prayer and almsgiving. Further resolved, to do this in secret, not for the sake of outward appearance or show. (Matthew 6)
12. Ultimately and in all things, resolved, to let myself humbly suffer and die with Christ so that I may rise with Him into new and everlasting life – for the glory of God our Father. Resolved, that is, to make these words my own: “I want to know him and the power of his resurrection and the sharing of his sufferings by becoming like him in his death, if somehow I may attain the resurrection from the dead.” (Philippians 3:10-11)
"Being sensible that I am unable to do anything without God's help, I do humbly entreat him by his grace to enable me to keep these resolutions, so far as they are agreeable to his will, for Christ's sake."
1. Resolved, not to chase after vanities (especially intellectual vainglory or pride of reputation), but rather to live humbly and without pretense. Resolved, whenever I am tempted with worldliness, to cling to these words: “Friendship with the world is enmity with God.” (James 4:4)
2. Resolved, not to worry about food, drink, clothing, or the other necessities of life, but rather to pray, work, and gratefully receive these things as Providence would give them. (Matthew 6:25) Further resolved, to make Jesus’ words my own: “My food is to do the will of him who sent me.” (John 4:34)
3. Resolved, to honor those in authority over me, even when they seem unreasonable or unfair. Also resolved, to honor my father and my mother in (1) how I represent them and (2) how I treat them. And lastly, resolved, to make the apostles’ words my own: “We must obey God rather than men.” (Acts 5:29)
4. Resolved, to be a good friend by laying down my life for others. (John 15:13) Also resolved, to do this without melancholy or resentment, but with joy and thanksgiving – knowing that I am thereby participating in the love of Christ. Therefore, resolved, to present myself as a living sacrifice – this is my spiritual worship. (Romans 12:1)
5. Resolved, to care for the least of these. (Matthew 25:40) Resolved, that is, to comfort the downcast, care for the poor, befriend the lonely, and seek diligently for those in need of charity.
6. Resolved, to be a peacemaker, sowing seeds not of discord but of charity and mercy. (Matthew 5:9) Further resolved, to hold my tongue when I am tempted to gossip or backbite.
7. Resolve, to let my “yes” be “yes” and my “no” be “no”, speaking with truthfulness, simplicity, and humility. (Matthew 5:37) Further resolved, to let my speech be seasoned with salt. (Colossians 4:6) Resolved, that is, to speak the truth in love. (Ephesians 4:15)
8. Resolved, to pray without ceasing. (1 Thessalonians 5:17) Resolved, to live in prayerful conversation with my Lord, asking him for direction in matters both small and great. Further resolved, to devote myself daily to morning, afternoon, and evening prayer.
9. Resolved, to treat Holy Scripture as “the sacred writings that are able to instruct you for salvation through faith in Jesus Christ.” (2 Timothy 3:15) Therefore, resolved, to read Holy Scripture with a meditative spirit and a docile heart so that the Holy Spirit may be my teacher.
10. Resolved, never to do something I would not do if my life were being demanded of me this very night. (Luke 12:20) Resolved, never to do something I am doubtful God would approve, “for whatever does not proceed from faith is sin.” (Romans 14:23)
11. Resolved, to mortify self-love by fasting at least one day per month, dedicating the day to prayer and almsgiving. Further resolved, to do this in secret, not for the sake of outward appearance or show. (Matthew 6)
12. Ultimately and in all things, resolved, to let myself humbly suffer and die with Christ so that I may rise with Him into new and everlasting life – for the glory of God our Father. Resolved, that is, to make these words my own: “I want to know him and the power of his resurrection and the sharing of his sufferings by becoming like him in his death, if somehow I may attain the resurrection from the dead.” (Philippians 3:10-11)
Sunday, February 19, 2012
The Bondage of the Will, The Loveliness of God
I've been on a Jonathan Edwards binge lately. It started with reading his sermons, and since then I’ve plowed through a 600-page biography and started into Edwards’ treatise, “Freedom of the Will”. My plan is to follow that up with “The Religious Affections”. It’s becoming an obsession, if you couldn’t tell.
Why do I mention this? Aside from my desire to recommend Jonathan Edwards, I also wanted to comment on Edwards’ “Freedom of the Will”. I’m not finished with the book, but it’s already changing the way I see the Christian life. Let me explain.
Edwards’ basic argument is that the human will is not free. Yes, the will has the power to choose particular actions. However, the choice itself is governed by a logically prior desire or motive – over which the will has no power.
In other words, some things are under the jurisdiction of the human will, like choosing what to eat, whether to stand or sit, and even whether to give money to the poor. And yet, despite this power to choose certain actions, the will has no power over the ultimate motive lying behind its choices. That is, the will does not choose its desires. Rather, desires (which we do not choose) move the will.
As much as we may try to change our motive by choosing to do this or that, only the actions change – not the ultimate motive of our choices. So the question we have to ask ourselves is this: Who or what is my ultimate motive in life? To put the question in more explicitly biblical terms: Who or what is my god?
In the end, the answer to that question can be found by asking, What do I love most? According to Edwards (and I think he’s right), the answer given to that question is not something we choose with the power of our will. As much as we may try, we cannot choose to love someone or something. Rather, we simply love whatever we believe is lovely, and we love most whatever we believe is most lovely.
So if we simply love whatever we find lovely, and if our wills have no power over what we find lovely, then what do we do with the command, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, and strength”? The only way someone can fulfill this command is if he finds God lovelier than anything else.
But that begs the question: How does one come to believe that God is infinitely lovely? At this point, I think the only possible answer is that God – who is infinitely lovely whether we believe it or not – must reveal himself to us. Want to love God? Don’t rely on your (fallen) will, but truly pray (which means a complete surrender) that God would reveal himself to you in all his loveliness.
I’m talking in abstractions, I know, but this becomes very concrete when we consider God’s actual self-revelation. I’d bet that anyone who has ever encountered the living Jesus (the revelation of God) would say that he is infinitely lovely. And the one who sees such loveliness cannot help but love him. Maybe I’m teetering on the edge of “irresistible grace”, but the point still stands: We love what we find lovely, and when God shows us his infinite loveliness in Jesus, we cannot help but love him.
So the concluding question is this: How do we come to see the loveliness of Jesus? The answer: God must re-create our hearts, which have turned to lesser loves and degrading passions. Only then will we find Jesus – the crucified Christ – lovelier than anything else our hearts have ever seen.
As God’s revelation of his loveliness changes what we find most lovely, then our wills will be changed and our ultimate motive will be to love God more than anything else (which also means loving one another, for that is what our lovely God desires). And then we – whose wills were once in bondage to lesser loves and degrading passions – can say quite freely: “We love because he first loved us.” (1 John 4:19)
Why do I mention this? Aside from my desire to recommend Jonathan Edwards, I also wanted to comment on Edwards’ “Freedom of the Will”. I’m not finished with the book, but it’s already changing the way I see the Christian life. Let me explain.
Edwards’ basic argument is that the human will is not free. Yes, the will has the power to choose particular actions. However, the choice itself is governed by a logically prior desire or motive – over which the will has no power.
In other words, some things are under the jurisdiction of the human will, like choosing what to eat, whether to stand or sit, and even whether to give money to the poor. And yet, despite this power to choose certain actions, the will has no power over the ultimate motive lying behind its choices. That is, the will does not choose its desires. Rather, desires (which we do not choose) move the will.
As much as we may try to change our motive by choosing to do this or that, only the actions change – not the ultimate motive of our choices. So the question we have to ask ourselves is this: Who or what is my ultimate motive in life? To put the question in more explicitly biblical terms: Who or what is my god?
In the end, the answer to that question can be found by asking, What do I love most? According to Edwards (and I think he’s right), the answer given to that question is not something we choose with the power of our will. As much as we may try, we cannot choose to love someone or something. Rather, we simply love whatever we believe is lovely, and we love most whatever we believe is most lovely.
So if we simply love whatever we find lovely, and if our wills have no power over what we find lovely, then what do we do with the command, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, and strength”? The only way someone can fulfill this command is if he finds God lovelier than anything else.
But that begs the question: How does one come to believe that God is infinitely lovely? At this point, I think the only possible answer is that God – who is infinitely lovely whether we believe it or not – must reveal himself to us. Want to love God? Don’t rely on your (fallen) will, but truly pray (which means a complete surrender) that God would reveal himself to you in all his loveliness.
I’m talking in abstractions, I know, but this becomes very concrete when we consider God’s actual self-revelation. I’d bet that anyone who has ever encountered the living Jesus (the revelation of God) would say that he is infinitely lovely. And the one who sees such loveliness cannot help but love him. Maybe I’m teetering on the edge of “irresistible grace”, but the point still stands: We love what we find lovely, and when God shows us his infinite loveliness in Jesus, we cannot help but love him.
So the concluding question is this: How do we come to see the loveliness of Jesus? The answer: God must re-create our hearts, which have turned to lesser loves and degrading passions. Only then will we find Jesus – the crucified Christ – lovelier than anything else our hearts have ever seen.
As God’s revelation of his loveliness changes what we find most lovely, then our wills will be changed and our ultimate motive will be to love God more than anything else (which also means loving one another, for that is what our lovely God desires). And then we – whose wills were once in bondage to lesser loves and degrading passions – can say quite freely: “We love because he first loved us.” (1 John 4:19)
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