"The Word became flesh and made His dwelling among us.” This is the event that makes these days holy. We rightly call the Christmas season the holi-days not because these days are particularly pleasurable (though they often are) nor because the family and friends with whom we celebrate are inherently divine (though they are blessings that can point to the Divine One). No, we rightly call Christmas a holi-day because it recalls the holy day when “the Word became flesh and made His dwelling among us.” When the Word of God took on human flesh in Jesus of Nazareth, common and ordinary stuff such as human flesh and this world’s daily turning became truly holy.
Peter learned this Christmas lesson when he had a vision of a sheet filled with various non-kosher animals. (Acts 10:9-16) The Lord commanded Peter to “kill and eat,” but Peter resisted defiling himself with things that he still saw as unclean (read: not holy). The Lord then told Peter, “Do not call anything impure that God has made clean.” (Acts 10:15) This lesson is then extended beyond non-kosher food to non-kosher people. The Gentile centurion named Cornelius came to Peter, and Peter explained to him the implications of the Word becoming flesh: “You are well aware that it is against our law for a Jew to associate with or visit a Gentile. But God has shown me that I should not call anyone impure or unclean.” (Acts 10:28)
And so, because the Word became flesh, these days are indeed holi-days. Moreover, because the Word became flesh, our neighbors are holy people. By all appearances they might be common, impure, unholy, etc. Nevertheless, they were made in God’s own image and they were “made clean” when the Word of God assumed human flesh in Jesus. That is why to love them is to love God, and to hate them is to hate God. It’s true: “Whoever claims to love God yet hates a brother or sister is a liar. For whoever does not love their brother and sister, whom they have seen, cannot love God, whom they have not seen.”
Alas, the day on which the Word became flesh is not merely a past event that we commemorate on Christmas. No, the Word continues to take on human flesh; Jesus Christ still lives among us bodily in two interrelated ways. First, Jesus’ body is among us in the Meal called Holy Communion. It is just as He said: “Take, eat; this is my body.” (Matthew 26:26) Second, Jesus’ body is still among us as the church, as the people who gather around the Meal in faith, hope, and love. We need not go looking around aimlessly for some abstract presence of God in the world. He lives among us concretely in the Meal and in the people made holy by that Meal.
The Christmas miracle might appear rather common when we look at the ordinary bread and wine of Communion and at the ordinary people who constitute the church. But to the eyes of faith, these things and these people are holy beyond measure. Said differently, to the ones who believe God’s Word, these things and these people are the very presence of God living among us. They are to be loved not out of some phony piety wrought out of compulsion. No, they are to be loved because they are the continued presence of God in the flesh, and because God and His gifts are lovely.
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
To Pay Him Homage
The story of the magi is retold frequently in the weeks leading up to Christmas. These wise men came to Jerusalem seeking "the Child who has been born King of the Jews." (Matthew 2:2) They stated their purpose for seeking Him thusly: "We observed His star at its rising, and have come to pay Him homage." (Matthew 2:2) They were "overjoyed" when they saw His star, and they bowed down before the newborn Jesus and presented Him "with gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh." (Matthew 2:10-11)
The magi are rightly admired for their wisdom and for the honor they they rendered to Jesus. Though the Child they saw was like all other children in appearance, they trusted that this One was indeed their long-awaited King. I've heard it said before that the "wise men" of today still seek after Jesus and still acclaim Him as their King. I agree: to recognize Jesus as King and to honor Him with our gifts are expressions of the highest wisdom.
So the magi are to be admired and, more importantly, emulated for their faith in Jesus. Perhaps what gets overlooked in the story of the magi, however, is the role that Herod played. When Herod heard of Jesus' birth, "he was frightened." (Matthew 2:3) The newborn King was a threat to Herod's reign. And so Herod sought after Jesus not in order to bring Him gifts and to acclaim Him as the true King, but in order to do away with Him. The most interesting thing, however, is that Herod told the magi that he wanted to find Jesus so that he, like them, "may also go and pay him homage." (Matthew 2:8)
While everyone likes to see himself as one of the magi at Christmas, there is in fact an ongoing temptation to be Herod. We can all say that we're seeking Jesus in order to "pay Him homage." Like Herod, however, underneath that phrase there might be a deep-seated fear that Jesus means an end to our own kingship. Jesus the King threatens our autonomy (a word which literally means "self rule"), which can be a bit discomforting.
So, like Herod, we can pay lip-service to Jesus and, by all appearances, celebrate His birth. In our hearts, though, there is an ongoing effort to maintain our autonomy by driving out His Spirit. Herod ordered a massacre of the children, hoping that Jesus would be among them. In like manner, today's Herods get impatient with and angry at others. (Recall Jesus' teaching in Matthew 5:21-22 that such anger is tantamount to murder.) We might blame it on "holiday stress," but that's not a valid excuse for driving out the Spirit of Christ and killing one another with anger.
If we are to be the magi (and not Herod) at Christmas, it is not enough to say that we're seeking Jesus "to pay Him homage." Today's would-be magi are called to receive the Spirit of Christ, whose primary characteristic is love. (See 1 Corinthians 13, where love is identified as the primary gift of the Spirit.) In one sense, then, would-be magi must be passive recipients of the gift that is Christ. We are to let Him be our King, which is quite different than trying to make Him King over everyone else while our hearts remain quite autonomous from His reign.
Faithful submission to the Spirit of Christ is the passive duty of those who want to be like the magi. Meanwhile, the active role of today's would-be magi is to worship Jesus by bringing Him gifts. How are we to bestow gifts upon Jesus? Jesus' teaching in Matthew 25:40 is noteworthy: "Just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me."
Christmas easily can turn into a time of stress, worry, and anger. It's all too easy to become another Herod. And yet Herod was a fool whose fear of Jesus' reign led him to murder. In obvious contrast, the magi were the wise men who recieved the gift of Christ. The truly wise are those who receive this Gift, who let Him reign in their hearts, and who bring Him gifts of their own by caring for "the least of these." In doing so, the truly wise really do "pay Him homage."
The magi are rightly admired for their wisdom and for the honor they they rendered to Jesus. Though the Child they saw was like all other children in appearance, they trusted that this One was indeed their long-awaited King. I've heard it said before that the "wise men" of today still seek after Jesus and still acclaim Him as their King. I agree: to recognize Jesus as King and to honor Him with our gifts are expressions of the highest wisdom.
So the magi are to be admired and, more importantly, emulated for their faith in Jesus. Perhaps what gets overlooked in the story of the magi, however, is the role that Herod played. When Herod heard of Jesus' birth, "he was frightened." (Matthew 2:3) The newborn King was a threat to Herod's reign. And so Herod sought after Jesus not in order to bring Him gifts and to acclaim Him as the true King, but in order to do away with Him. The most interesting thing, however, is that Herod told the magi that he wanted to find Jesus so that he, like them, "may also go and pay him homage." (Matthew 2:8)
While everyone likes to see himself as one of the magi at Christmas, there is in fact an ongoing temptation to be Herod. We can all say that we're seeking Jesus in order to "pay Him homage." Like Herod, however, underneath that phrase there might be a deep-seated fear that Jesus means an end to our own kingship. Jesus the King threatens our autonomy (a word which literally means "self rule"), which can be a bit discomforting.
So, like Herod, we can pay lip-service to Jesus and, by all appearances, celebrate His birth. In our hearts, though, there is an ongoing effort to maintain our autonomy by driving out His Spirit. Herod ordered a massacre of the children, hoping that Jesus would be among them. In like manner, today's Herods get impatient with and angry at others. (Recall Jesus' teaching in Matthew 5:21-22 that such anger is tantamount to murder.) We might blame it on "holiday stress," but that's not a valid excuse for driving out the Spirit of Christ and killing one another with anger.
If we are to be the magi (and not Herod) at Christmas, it is not enough to say that we're seeking Jesus "to pay Him homage." Today's would-be magi are called to receive the Spirit of Christ, whose primary characteristic is love. (See 1 Corinthians 13, where love is identified as the primary gift of the Spirit.) In one sense, then, would-be magi must be passive recipients of the gift that is Christ. We are to let Him be our King, which is quite different than trying to make Him King over everyone else while our hearts remain quite autonomous from His reign.
Faithful submission to the Spirit of Christ is the passive duty of those who want to be like the magi. Meanwhile, the active role of today's would-be magi is to worship Jesus by bringing Him gifts. How are we to bestow gifts upon Jesus? Jesus' teaching in Matthew 25:40 is noteworthy: "Just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me."
Christmas easily can turn into a time of stress, worry, and anger. It's all too easy to become another Herod. And yet Herod was a fool whose fear of Jesus' reign led him to murder. In obvious contrast, the magi were the wise men who recieved the gift of Christ. The truly wise are those who receive this Gift, who let Him reign in their hearts, and who bring Him gifts of their own by caring for "the least of these." In doing so, the truly wise really do "pay Him homage."
Saturday, December 11, 2010
Presents, Lights, & Parties
These are the things which mark the holiday season. We buy and give gifts; we decorate with lights, ornaments, and wreaths; and we come together for parties that usually include a lot of food and drink. I’ve often found that dedicated, well-meaning Christians think it is their duty to complain about these activities in order to focus on the true meaning of Christmas. That is, there is a tendency among Christians to adopt a negative attitude toward things that we would otherwise enjoy quite thoroughly, and we adopt this attitude because we think it’s our Christian duty to make sure everyone’s thinking about Jesus.
This sort of approach to the traditional activities preceding Christmas makes Christians a bunch of killjoys. Don’t mishear me: there are indeed times when Christians must indeed be killjoys, namely when the “joy” is in fact nothing more than a perversion of joy that leads participants down the path of sin against one’s God and one’s fellow man. (The perverted enjoyment we have in gossiping about people is a good example.) At such times, the Christian is rightly a killjoy.
However, the activities of gift-giving, decorating, and celebrating have the potential to serve the rightful point of the Advent season: pointing ahead to the Christ who came and is to come. For example, giving gifts to one another can be an appropriate expression of God’s gift in Christ. If our gift-giving is to recall and point to the gift of Christ, then it need not be extravagant. We would do well to recall that the gift of Christ arrived in a lowly manger. Nevertheless, Christ is indeed a gift, and our gift-giving can point to the primary gift God has bestowed on us.
Similar things can be said about decorating and partying. To fill the darkest time of the year with lights is an apt symbol for the coming of Christ. The Gospel of John speaks of Christ in this way: “In Him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.” (John 1:5) Putting up lights and decorating with things that are lively (i.e. wreaths, Christmas trees, etc.) need not be activities that distract from Christ. If done faithfully, they will point not to themselves but to our Lord.
Parties can do the same thing. Certainly the coming of Christ is something to be celebrated. Jesus speaks of the Last Day as a banquet at which we will eat and drink with Him. (See Luke 13:29 and 22:28-30, among others.) Thus, enjoying one another’s company while we eat good food and drink good wine can serve as a great foretaste of that feast to come.
In short, Christians need not be killjoys during Advent. Many of the activities of this season can serve the same function as John the Baptist. It is written about John that “he himself was not the light; he came only as a witness to the light.” (John 1:8) The same is true of us and of the things we do. The moment the activities of the holiday season point merely to themselves or to us, or if we begin to think that everything has to be “just perfect,” we have mistaken their purpose. When that happens, we must remember John the Baptist’s words: “He must increase, I must decrease.” (John 3:30)
However, insofar as the activities of Advent point to the One who came and is to come, they are to be fervently enjoyed. Indeed, our hopeful anticipation during Advent and our joyful celebration of Christmas are previews and rehearsals of the coming Kingdom of God.
This sort of approach to the traditional activities preceding Christmas makes Christians a bunch of killjoys. Don’t mishear me: there are indeed times when Christians must indeed be killjoys, namely when the “joy” is in fact nothing more than a perversion of joy that leads participants down the path of sin against one’s God and one’s fellow man. (The perverted enjoyment we have in gossiping about people is a good example.) At such times, the Christian is rightly a killjoy.
However, the activities of gift-giving, decorating, and celebrating have the potential to serve the rightful point of the Advent season: pointing ahead to the Christ who came and is to come. For example, giving gifts to one another can be an appropriate expression of God’s gift in Christ. If our gift-giving is to recall and point to the gift of Christ, then it need not be extravagant. We would do well to recall that the gift of Christ arrived in a lowly manger. Nevertheless, Christ is indeed a gift, and our gift-giving can point to the primary gift God has bestowed on us.
Similar things can be said about decorating and partying. To fill the darkest time of the year with lights is an apt symbol for the coming of Christ. The Gospel of John speaks of Christ in this way: “In Him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.” (John 1:5) Putting up lights and decorating with things that are lively (i.e. wreaths, Christmas trees, etc.) need not be activities that distract from Christ. If done faithfully, they will point not to themselves but to our Lord.
Parties can do the same thing. Certainly the coming of Christ is something to be celebrated. Jesus speaks of the Last Day as a banquet at which we will eat and drink with Him. (See Luke 13:29 and 22:28-30, among others.) Thus, enjoying one another’s company while we eat good food and drink good wine can serve as a great foretaste of that feast to come.
In short, Christians need not be killjoys during Advent. Many of the activities of this season can serve the same function as John the Baptist. It is written about John that “he himself was not the light; he came only as a witness to the light.” (John 1:8) The same is true of us and of the things we do. The moment the activities of the holiday season point merely to themselves or to us, or if we begin to think that everything has to be “just perfect,” we have mistaken their purpose. When that happens, we must remember John the Baptist’s words: “He must increase, I must decrease.” (John 3:30)
However, insofar as the activities of Advent point to the One who came and is to come, they are to be fervently enjoyed. Indeed, our hopeful anticipation during Advent and our joyful celebration of Christmas are previews and rehearsals of the coming Kingdom of God.
Monday, December 6, 2010
Whoever Wishes to Become Great
“Whoever wishes to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you must be slave of all. For the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve and to give his life a ransom for many.” (Mark 10:43-45)
I’m taking a class on the Gospel of Mark this semester, and this week our class discussed these verses. Admittedly, sometimes it seems as if the goal of seminary education is to blunt Jesus’ sayings and to train future pastors who are a bit more moderate than the One they serve. Let me explain.
When we came across these verses, there was talk about how important self-care is and that we wouldn’t be able to be true servants if we didn’t first take proper care of ourselves. This is common in the ELCA (the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America), which has a “wholeness wheel” to encourage balance and overall well-being. It seems to me that this is a capitulation to a worldliness that promotes an “enlightened self-interest” and a “do what’s best for yourself” attitude. This is not the way of self-denial to which Jesus call his followers.
If we consider the great history of saints, we’ll notice that they didn’t put proper self-care very high on their list of priorities. They wouldn’t be considered balanced people, and they would utterly fail the “wholeness wheel” standard. They weren’t balanced people, but they were godly people. Ultimately, this is infinitely more important.
Jesus is clear: His would-be followers are called to a life of self-denial. His call is to faith, hope, and love, and there’s a good chance that this won’t look very “balanced.” (Loving your enemies? Putting your ultimate trust in a promise that can’t be seen? That’s not very wise according to the world’s standards.) If personal well-being is our goal, then Deepak Chopra fits the bill. But if our goal is “the peace of God which surpasses all understanding” (Philippians 4:7), then only Jesus will do.
I’m taking a class on the Gospel of Mark this semester, and this week our class discussed these verses. Admittedly, sometimes it seems as if the goal of seminary education is to blunt Jesus’ sayings and to train future pastors who are a bit more moderate than the One they serve. Let me explain.
When we came across these verses, there was talk about how important self-care is and that we wouldn’t be able to be true servants if we didn’t first take proper care of ourselves. This is common in the ELCA (the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America), which has a “wholeness wheel” to encourage balance and overall well-being. It seems to me that this is a capitulation to a worldliness that promotes an “enlightened self-interest” and a “do what’s best for yourself” attitude. This is not the way of self-denial to which Jesus call his followers.
If we consider the great history of saints, we’ll notice that they didn’t put proper self-care very high on their list of priorities. They wouldn’t be considered balanced people, and they would utterly fail the “wholeness wheel” standard. They weren’t balanced people, but they were godly people. Ultimately, this is infinitely more important.
Jesus is clear: His would-be followers are called to a life of self-denial. His call is to faith, hope, and love, and there’s a good chance that this won’t look very “balanced.” (Loving your enemies? Putting your ultimate trust in a promise that can’t be seen? That’s not very wise according to the world’s standards.) If personal well-being is our goal, then Deepak Chopra fits the bill. But if our goal is “the peace of God which surpasses all understanding” (Philippians 4:7), then only Jesus will do.
Friday, December 3, 2010
Luther Quote
I came across this quote while reading today and I thought I'd share (and reflect a bit):
"I am more afraid of my own heart than of the pope and all his cardinals. I have within me the great pope: self." - Martin Luther
Luther wrote this at a time when the Roman Catholic Church was in disrepair, so for him to call his own self the greatest pope emphasizes how untrustworthy our own selves are. Luther was insistent throughout his life that we are to trust not in our selves, but in the Word of God. (That song "Listen to Your Heart" comes to mind. The Christian response to that seemingly innocent and worldly-wise saying: No.) In other words, we are to listen to and trust in Jesus Christ, both His commandments and His promises. There is perhaps no greater record of Jesus' commandments and promises than that found in the Sermon on the Mount in Matthew 5-7.
Admittedly, I hear Jesus' commandments frequently as I go through daily life. More problematically, I often hear those commandments as burdens. It's because I disbelieve Jesus' promises, which are inseparable from His commandments. And so I plug my ears to His call and I thereby pass on His blessing. Luther's quote is quite true for me: I have within me a powerful, untrustworthy ruler. His name is Self.
"I am more afraid of my own heart than of the pope and all his cardinals. I have within me the great pope: self." - Martin Luther
Luther wrote this at a time when the Roman Catholic Church was in disrepair, so for him to call his own self the greatest pope emphasizes how untrustworthy our own selves are. Luther was insistent throughout his life that we are to trust not in our selves, but in the Word of God. (That song "Listen to Your Heart" comes to mind. The Christian response to that seemingly innocent and worldly-wise saying: No.) In other words, we are to listen to and trust in Jesus Christ, both His commandments and His promises. There is perhaps no greater record of Jesus' commandments and promises than that found in the Sermon on the Mount in Matthew 5-7.
Admittedly, I hear Jesus' commandments frequently as I go through daily life. More problematically, I often hear those commandments as burdens. It's because I disbelieve Jesus' promises, which are inseparable from His commandments. And so I plug my ears to His call and I thereby pass on His blessing. Luther's quote is quite true for me: I have within me a powerful, untrustworthy ruler. His name is Self.
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
"You Are the Christ"
Anyone who reads the New Testament will notice: Peter repeatedly didn’t get it. He briefly walked on water, but then lost faith and sank like a brick. (Matthew 14:28-33) At the transfiguration of Jesus, he offered to build three tents, one each for Moses, Elijah, and Jesus. He thought Jesus was merely another lawgiver or prophet, and so God had to make things clear: “This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well-pleased; listen to Him.” (Matthew 17:5) And perhaps the peak of Peter’s embarrassing acts was his triple denial of Jesus before the cock crowed once. (Matthew 26:69-75)
There was a moment, however, at which Peter seemed to get it right. When Jesus asked the disciples, “Who do you say that I am?”, Peter answered, “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.” (Matthew 16:15-16) Upon this confession, Jesus blessed Peter and called him the rock on which He would build His church. Given Peter’s track record of errors, his answer to Jesus’ question is surprising. Alas, Peter understood.
Or so it seemed. Two things need to be pointed out regarding Peter’s confession that Jesus is “the Christ, the Son of the living God.”
1. Peter’s confession was not a self-willed achievement. It was not something he saw in Jesus, like some “spark” of divinity, that led him to his answer. Nor did Peter reach his conclusion by reading a bunch of books about Jesus or by carefully evaluating Jesus’ teaching and ministry. Nope. What Peter saw was a rather plain-looking Palestinian Jew who used to work as a carpenter. This makes his confession even more remarkable. How did he come to his answer?
Jesus explained it thusly: “Flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my Father in heaven.” (Matthew 16:17) This explanation still stands today. When Christians rightly ascribe titles to Jesus such as Lord, Savior, King, Messiah, etc., we “see” that this is true only because the Father reveals it to us. We “see” Jesus’ identity only through faith in the Father’s revelation, only through trusting Jesus Himself who is revealed in the breaking of bread. (See Luke 24:28-35.)
2. Peter’s confession was followed by a clear demonstration that he didn’t quite know what he was saying. When Jesus began to tell the disciples of His impending sufferings and death, Peter rebuked Him. He had called Jesus the Christ, and now it was time for Jesus to start acting the part.
Peter’s rebuke of Jesus demonstrates the peril of titles for Jesus. It is fully possible to rightly confess who Jesus is, but then to “fit” Him into our preconceived notions of what such a title entails. For liberals, this often means that the “Christ” favors inclusiveness, progressive policies, and Barack Obama. For conservatives, the “Christ” supports family values, the American way of life, and George W. Bush. Either way, we simply ignore the biblical Jesus who disrupts our preconceived notions.
What is Jesus’ response to all of this? “Get behind me, Satan! For you are a stumbling block to me; for you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.” To set our minds on divine things is to deny ourselves and to deny our preconceived notions of who Jesus should be. It is to take up our cross, to follow Jesus in faith, and to bear one another’s burdens in love. (See Matthew 16:24 and Galatians 6:2.) This has little appeal to “flesh and blood.” Peter didn’t want a Christ who suffered shamefully, and neither do we. There is, however, a promise to those who follow the real Christ: “Those who lose their life for My sake will find it.” (Matthew 16:25)
Ultimately, knowing Jesus and rightly confessing His identity depends entirely on God’s revelation grasped through faith. (It is not an achievement of our wills or intellect.) And such faith entails discipleship to the real Jesus, not to some Jesus we've imagined and who looks awfully similar to our own likings. In other words, such faith entails discipleship to the Jesus who commands that we love one another and who promises that we will thereby find true life.
Jesus is indeed the Christ, the Son of the living God. However, such a confession is fruitless apart from faith in God's revelation and apart from following Jesus. Peter learned that the hard way. ("Get behind me, Satan!" Ouch.) Nevertheless, to those who trust and follow Jesus, such a confession is the fruitful and joyful consequence of a life lived in Him.
There was a moment, however, at which Peter seemed to get it right. When Jesus asked the disciples, “Who do you say that I am?”, Peter answered, “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.” (Matthew 16:15-16) Upon this confession, Jesus blessed Peter and called him the rock on which He would build His church. Given Peter’s track record of errors, his answer to Jesus’ question is surprising. Alas, Peter understood.
Or so it seemed. Two things need to be pointed out regarding Peter’s confession that Jesus is “the Christ, the Son of the living God.”
1. Peter’s confession was not a self-willed achievement. It was not something he saw in Jesus, like some “spark” of divinity, that led him to his answer. Nor did Peter reach his conclusion by reading a bunch of books about Jesus or by carefully evaluating Jesus’ teaching and ministry. Nope. What Peter saw was a rather plain-looking Palestinian Jew who used to work as a carpenter. This makes his confession even more remarkable. How did he come to his answer?
Jesus explained it thusly: “Flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my Father in heaven.” (Matthew 16:17) This explanation still stands today. When Christians rightly ascribe titles to Jesus such as Lord, Savior, King, Messiah, etc., we “see” that this is true only because the Father reveals it to us. We “see” Jesus’ identity only through faith in the Father’s revelation, only through trusting Jesus Himself who is revealed in the breaking of bread. (See Luke 24:28-35.)
2. Peter’s confession was followed by a clear demonstration that he didn’t quite know what he was saying. When Jesus began to tell the disciples of His impending sufferings and death, Peter rebuked Him. He had called Jesus the Christ, and now it was time for Jesus to start acting the part.
Peter’s rebuke of Jesus demonstrates the peril of titles for Jesus. It is fully possible to rightly confess who Jesus is, but then to “fit” Him into our preconceived notions of what such a title entails. For liberals, this often means that the “Christ” favors inclusiveness, progressive policies, and Barack Obama. For conservatives, the “Christ” supports family values, the American way of life, and George W. Bush. Either way, we simply ignore the biblical Jesus who disrupts our preconceived notions.
What is Jesus’ response to all of this? “Get behind me, Satan! For you are a stumbling block to me; for you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.” To set our minds on divine things is to deny ourselves and to deny our preconceived notions of who Jesus should be. It is to take up our cross, to follow Jesus in faith, and to bear one another’s burdens in love. (See Matthew 16:24 and Galatians 6:2.) This has little appeal to “flesh and blood.” Peter didn’t want a Christ who suffered shamefully, and neither do we. There is, however, a promise to those who follow the real Christ: “Those who lose their life for My sake will find it.” (Matthew 16:25)
Ultimately, knowing Jesus and rightly confessing His identity depends entirely on God’s revelation grasped through faith. (It is not an achievement of our wills or intellect.) And such faith entails discipleship to the real Jesus, not to some Jesus we've imagined and who looks awfully similar to our own likings. In other words, such faith entails discipleship to the Jesus who commands that we love one another and who promises that we will thereby find true life.
Jesus is indeed the Christ, the Son of the living God. However, such a confession is fruitless apart from faith in God's revelation and apart from following Jesus. Peter learned that the hard way. ("Get behind me, Satan!" Ouch.) Nevertheless, to those who trust and follow Jesus, such a confession is the fruitful and joyful consequence of a life lived in Him.
Monday, November 22, 2010
The "Gospel"
The word "gospel" is easily misconstrued. It comes from the Greek word euangelion, meaning good (eu) news/message (angelion). The New Testament writers repeatedly use "gospel" to speak of their message about Jesus. Perhaps because we are so removed from their world, we often hear "gospel" and think it means "that which is pleasant to our ears."
In New Testament times, the word "gospel" was used to announce the inauguration of a ruler. Thus, there was the "gospel" of Caesar Augustus. Given this use of the word, we could say that there was a "gospel" of Joseph Stalin in 1929 and a "gospel" of Adolf Hitler in 1933. Obviously, to think of "gospel" simply as "that which is pleasant to our ears" is a mistake.
The gospel of Jesus Christ is the announcement that Jesus' reign has begun. Said differently, Jesus is Lord and the Kingdom of God is at hand. Interestingly, this is indeed great news for us. Jesus is the King who forgives our past transgressions against Him and against His commandments. Furthermore, He is the King whose reign makes us truly free. (See especially the third chapter of 2 Corinthians.) Such freedom is not the ability to "do what we want," but rather the ability to be who we were really made to be.
We were made to love our Creator above all else and to love our neighbor as ourselves. With Jesus as our King, we are free to do this without fear. As our King, Jesus establishes a community of mutual love under His rule. This community (the church) hears and obeys His Word. In the meal known as the Lord's Supper, this community feeds on Him as its Bread of Life. And on the Last Day, Jesus will lead His community into the heavenly Kingdom of God.
And so the gospel of Jesus really is "that which is pleasant to our ears." However, it is pleasant in a way that is quite different from our imaginings. Jesus is not merely a nice guy who makes us feel good. He is our Lord, and His reign sets us free from sin and death. Good news indeed.
In New Testament times, the word "gospel" was used to announce the inauguration of a ruler. Thus, there was the "gospel" of Caesar Augustus. Given this use of the word, we could say that there was a "gospel" of Joseph Stalin in 1929 and a "gospel" of Adolf Hitler in 1933. Obviously, to think of "gospel" simply as "that which is pleasant to our ears" is a mistake.
The gospel of Jesus Christ is the announcement that Jesus' reign has begun. Said differently, Jesus is Lord and the Kingdom of God is at hand. Interestingly, this is indeed great news for us. Jesus is the King who forgives our past transgressions against Him and against His commandments. Furthermore, He is the King whose reign makes us truly free. (See especially the third chapter of 2 Corinthians.) Such freedom is not the ability to "do what we want," but rather the ability to be who we were really made to be.
We were made to love our Creator above all else and to love our neighbor as ourselves. With Jesus as our King, we are free to do this without fear. As our King, Jesus establishes a community of mutual love under His rule. This community (the church) hears and obeys His Word. In the meal known as the Lord's Supper, this community feeds on Him as its Bread of Life. And on the Last Day, Jesus will lead His community into the heavenly Kingdom of God.
And so the gospel of Jesus really is "that which is pleasant to our ears." However, it is pleasant in a way that is quite different from our imaginings. Jesus is not merely a nice guy who makes us feel good. He is our Lord, and His reign sets us free from sin and death. Good news indeed.
Monday, November 15, 2010
The World's Story
The story of Joseph is often cited as the best example of how God makes good out of evil. It’s a great story and, if you haven’t read it, I recommend doing so (Genesis 37-50). For the sake of this post, I’ll offer a brief summary here.
Joseph had a dream that his brothers and parents would eventually bow before him. He told this dream to them (probably not a good idea) and, subsequently, his brothers sold him as a slave (a worse idea). Despite setbacks, Joseph rose to power in Egypt. He was able to interpret the pharaoh’s dream that a famine was coming. When a severe famine struck the land, Joseph’s brothers traveled to Egypt to buy grain. They came upon Joseph and, not recognizing him as their brother, they bowed before him.
The dream had come true, but in a very messy way. Joseph later revealed his identity to his brothers: “I am your brother, Joseph, whom you sold into Egypt. And now do not be distressed, or angry with yourselves, because you sold me here; for God sent me before you to preserve life.” (Genesis 45:4-5) He went on to say, “Even though you intended to do harm to me, God intended it for good, in order to preserve a numerous people, as he is doing today.” (Genesis 50:20)
As I said in the first sentence of this post, Joseph’s story is said to be the paradigmatic story of God’s providence. In the face of evil, God is able to bring about His purposes. Hidden in the brothers’ sinful intentions and hidden in the messiness of the story, God is at work to ensure that His intentions prevail.
While I agree that Joseph’s story is a great example of God’s providence, I think that it merely points to a story that is far greater. The story of Joseph, we must say, points to the story of Jesus. If we’re going to define providence as God’s work to somehow (invisibly) work good out of evil, then Jesus’ story is the story without equal. At the peak of human evil, when the Son of God was rejected and crucified, God brought about His greatest work: Jesus rose from the dead.
It should not be surprising that the story of Joseph points to the story of Jesus. Indeed, they share the same Author. In both cases, it is God who writes the story. What makes the story of Jesus different, however, is that the Author has entered the story as a Character. When the Word of God took on human flesh in Jesus of Nazareth (see John 1), the Author of the world’s story became its central Character.
This begs the question: What is the place of Christians in this story? The fact that Jesus has risen from the dead and ascended into heaven seems to end the story. The story, however, is not over. If anything, Jesus’ resurrection is more like a sneak-peek of the story’s true End. Jesus is clear in saying that He has gone to prepare a place for us, and that the story will not end until He returns to take us to Himself. (John 14:3) Ultimately, the Day of Jesus’ return will be the End of the universe’s story.
The question remains: What is the place of Christians in the story? Christians are characters in the story who trust that God is indeed the Author, that in Jesus He has entered the story, and that His Spirit is guiding us to the story's fulfillment. Despite all evidence to the contrary and despite the messiness of the story, the Christian trusts that God is at work and this His purposes will prevail. Thus, the Christian also hopes for the happy End. Despite the common doubt that Jesus isn’t coming back and that the dead will never rise again, the Christian hopes that God will fulfill His promise.
Finally, the Christian also loves his fellow characters. Such love is not an attempt to write the story on one’s own, since it is God who is the ultimate Author and who alone ensures the happy End. If the Christian tries to write the story on his own, he thereby forfeits the trust that God is the Author and loses the hope that God’s End will prevail. Nevertheless, by God’s grace the Christian participates in the writing of the story, loving his fellow characters.
Ultimately, we are minor characters in the story, following the Character around whom the whole story revolves. We are Jesus’ followers. We are those who trust in the Author, who hope for the End He has promised, and who steadfastly love our fellow characters.
Joseph had a dream that his brothers and parents would eventually bow before him. He told this dream to them (probably not a good idea) and, subsequently, his brothers sold him as a slave (a worse idea). Despite setbacks, Joseph rose to power in Egypt. He was able to interpret the pharaoh’s dream that a famine was coming. When a severe famine struck the land, Joseph’s brothers traveled to Egypt to buy grain. They came upon Joseph and, not recognizing him as their brother, they bowed before him.
The dream had come true, but in a very messy way. Joseph later revealed his identity to his brothers: “I am your brother, Joseph, whom you sold into Egypt. And now do not be distressed, or angry with yourselves, because you sold me here; for God sent me before you to preserve life.” (Genesis 45:4-5) He went on to say, “Even though you intended to do harm to me, God intended it for good, in order to preserve a numerous people, as he is doing today.” (Genesis 50:20)
As I said in the first sentence of this post, Joseph’s story is said to be the paradigmatic story of God’s providence. In the face of evil, God is able to bring about His purposes. Hidden in the brothers’ sinful intentions and hidden in the messiness of the story, God is at work to ensure that His intentions prevail.
While I agree that Joseph’s story is a great example of God’s providence, I think that it merely points to a story that is far greater. The story of Joseph, we must say, points to the story of Jesus. If we’re going to define providence as God’s work to somehow (invisibly) work good out of evil, then Jesus’ story is the story without equal. At the peak of human evil, when the Son of God was rejected and crucified, God brought about His greatest work: Jesus rose from the dead.
It should not be surprising that the story of Joseph points to the story of Jesus. Indeed, they share the same Author. In both cases, it is God who writes the story. What makes the story of Jesus different, however, is that the Author has entered the story as a Character. When the Word of God took on human flesh in Jesus of Nazareth (see John 1), the Author of the world’s story became its central Character.
This begs the question: What is the place of Christians in this story? The fact that Jesus has risen from the dead and ascended into heaven seems to end the story. The story, however, is not over. If anything, Jesus’ resurrection is more like a sneak-peek of the story’s true End. Jesus is clear in saying that He has gone to prepare a place for us, and that the story will not end until He returns to take us to Himself. (John 14:3) Ultimately, the Day of Jesus’ return will be the End of the universe’s story.
The question remains: What is the place of Christians in the story? Christians are characters in the story who trust that God is indeed the Author, that in Jesus He has entered the story, and that His Spirit is guiding us to the story's fulfillment. Despite all evidence to the contrary and despite the messiness of the story, the Christian trusts that God is at work and this His purposes will prevail. Thus, the Christian also hopes for the happy End. Despite the common doubt that Jesus isn’t coming back and that the dead will never rise again, the Christian hopes that God will fulfill His promise.
Finally, the Christian also loves his fellow characters. Such love is not an attempt to write the story on one’s own, since it is God who is the ultimate Author and who alone ensures the happy End. If the Christian tries to write the story on his own, he thereby forfeits the trust that God is the Author and loses the hope that God’s End will prevail. Nevertheless, by God’s grace the Christian participates in the writing of the story, loving his fellow characters.
Ultimately, we are minor characters in the story, following the Character around whom the whole story revolves. We are Jesus’ followers. We are those who trust in the Author, who hope for the End He has promised, and who steadfastly love our fellow characters.
Monday, November 8, 2010
We Hope for What We Do Not See
I’ve heard it said that hope is faith oriented to the future. This seems like a pretty good definition and, for this post, it will suffice. Perhaps what is lacking in much of the talk about hope is the specific object of Christian hope. We can hope for all kinds of things: nice weather, a long life, or even something sinister like the downfall of someone we dislike. It should be obvious from these examples (especially the last one) that it is not hope as such that makes one a Christian.
Sometimes Christian hope is thought of as an attitude of optimism rather than pessimism. This is, put simply, incorrect. To see why, let’s briefly consider these curious creatures known as the optimist and the pessimist. In short, the optimist thinks that life’s circumstances will go his way, while the pessimist knows that this is a delusion. Whereas the optimist is typically carefree, the pessimist is more often careful.
While I might venture to say that the optimist is closer to being a Christian than the pessimist, neither approach to life is specifically Christian. As noted above, the optimist might hope for evil things. Furthermore, the hope of the optimist easily becomes a demanding expectation. Thus, when life’s circumstances do not go according to the optimist’s hopes, he might grow disappointed, angry, or even despairing.
The pessimist, meanwhile, is more realistic. He knows that life will not always bend his way. This realism, however, is not what makes someone a pessimist. The pessimist goes one step further. He concludes (based on the evidence, might I add) that life is hopeless. Yes, sometimes good things will come, sometimes bad things. “Regardless,” thinks the pessimist, “there is no rhyme or reason for such happenings and, therefore, to have hope is absurd.” Such a conclusion might lead to pragmatism, a “take life by the horns” attitude, or even a hardened heart. This last consequence is the outcome of a very serious pessimism. Obviously, a hardened heart is not the mark of a Christian.
So a Christian is neither a delusional optimist who thinks life is just cheery nor a hard-hearted pessimist who thinks life is ultimately meaningless. Unlike the pessimist, the Christian has hope. Unlike the optimist, the Christian has hope in something that does not disappoint. What, then, is this “something that does not disappoint”? What is the object of Christian hope that makes it specifically Christian?
In brief, the Christian hope is in God’s promise. Said differently, the Christian hope is in the promise spoken by Jesus Christ who Himself is the Word of God. What, then, is God’s promise through Jesus? Let us recall the following:
Jesus promises joy so overflowing that it persists even when all else goes wrong. (John 16:16-24)
He promises life so abundant that even death has no power over it. (John 14:1-3)
He promises peace so steady that no circumstances can disturb it. (John 17:33)
Ultimately, to those who love Him, God promises that His Spirit will be in and among them. (John 14:15-17)
These are the things for which the Christian hopes. It is God’s Spirit that distributes these gifts to us. Because the object of the Christian hope is a promise (a Word), it remains unseen. Promises, by their very nature, cannot be seen. They can, however, be trusted.
And so St. Paul writes the following about Christian hope: “For in hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what is seen? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience.” (Romans 8:24-25) The Christian life, therefore, is one of waiting patiently for God to fulfill His promises. It is one of waiting – with hope. And it is in such hope that we are saved. It is in such hope that we begin to taste the joy, the life, and the peace that have no end.
This does not mean that Christians don’t encounter adversity or feel down sometimes. It does mean, however, that such adversity and sorrow have been made relative. Disappointment has lost its power, and Christians are permitted to smile and to laugh in the face of it. It is as Jesus says: “These things I have spoken to you, that in Me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation; but be of good cheer, I have overcome the world.” (John 16:33)
So it is certain that Christians “will have tribulation,” and yet we can still “be of good cheer.” Why? Because our final and lasting hope is in Jesus, who has “overcome the world.” It is this hope, the hope “for what we do not see,” that is specifically Christian. And it is this hope, the hope in Jesus and his promises, wherein our salvation lies.
Sometimes Christian hope is thought of as an attitude of optimism rather than pessimism. This is, put simply, incorrect. To see why, let’s briefly consider these curious creatures known as the optimist and the pessimist. In short, the optimist thinks that life’s circumstances will go his way, while the pessimist knows that this is a delusion. Whereas the optimist is typically carefree, the pessimist is more often careful.
While I might venture to say that the optimist is closer to being a Christian than the pessimist, neither approach to life is specifically Christian. As noted above, the optimist might hope for evil things. Furthermore, the hope of the optimist easily becomes a demanding expectation. Thus, when life’s circumstances do not go according to the optimist’s hopes, he might grow disappointed, angry, or even despairing.
The pessimist, meanwhile, is more realistic. He knows that life will not always bend his way. This realism, however, is not what makes someone a pessimist. The pessimist goes one step further. He concludes (based on the evidence, might I add) that life is hopeless. Yes, sometimes good things will come, sometimes bad things. “Regardless,” thinks the pessimist, “there is no rhyme or reason for such happenings and, therefore, to have hope is absurd.” Such a conclusion might lead to pragmatism, a “take life by the horns” attitude, or even a hardened heart. This last consequence is the outcome of a very serious pessimism. Obviously, a hardened heart is not the mark of a Christian.
So a Christian is neither a delusional optimist who thinks life is just cheery nor a hard-hearted pessimist who thinks life is ultimately meaningless. Unlike the pessimist, the Christian has hope. Unlike the optimist, the Christian has hope in something that does not disappoint. What, then, is this “something that does not disappoint”? What is the object of Christian hope that makes it specifically Christian?
In brief, the Christian hope is in God’s promise. Said differently, the Christian hope is in the promise spoken by Jesus Christ who Himself is the Word of God. What, then, is God’s promise through Jesus? Let us recall the following:
Jesus promises joy so overflowing that it persists even when all else goes wrong. (John 16:16-24)
He promises life so abundant that even death has no power over it. (John 14:1-3)
He promises peace so steady that no circumstances can disturb it. (John 17:33)
Ultimately, to those who love Him, God promises that His Spirit will be in and among them. (John 14:15-17)
These are the things for which the Christian hopes. It is God’s Spirit that distributes these gifts to us. Because the object of the Christian hope is a promise (a Word), it remains unseen. Promises, by their very nature, cannot be seen. They can, however, be trusted.
And so St. Paul writes the following about Christian hope: “For in hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what is seen? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience.” (Romans 8:24-25) The Christian life, therefore, is one of waiting patiently for God to fulfill His promises. It is one of waiting – with hope. And it is in such hope that we are saved. It is in such hope that we begin to taste the joy, the life, and the peace that have no end.
This does not mean that Christians don’t encounter adversity or feel down sometimes. It does mean, however, that such adversity and sorrow have been made relative. Disappointment has lost its power, and Christians are permitted to smile and to laugh in the face of it. It is as Jesus says: “These things I have spoken to you, that in Me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation; but be of good cheer, I have overcome the world.” (John 16:33)
So it is certain that Christians “will have tribulation,” and yet we can still “be of good cheer.” Why? Because our final and lasting hope is in Jesus, who has “overcome the world.” It is this hope, the hope “for what we do not see,” that is specifically Christian. And it is this hope, the hope in Jesus and his promises, wherein our salvation lies.
Monday, November 1, 2010
It Is They Which Testify on My Behalf
There are numerous debates within the Church on how to regard the Bible. It is beyond the scope of this post to consider all of the nuances to the debate. Nevertheless, I think it is important to identify two fundamental (and common) errors that Christians make when thinking about and living with Scripture.
The first error is to think that the Bible is God. This is usually referred to derisively as “biblicism.” If being a “biblicist” means taking the Bible seriously, then all Christians should be biblicists. However, if being a “biblicist” means equating the Bible with God, then Christians should run from this error.
In the Gospel of John, Jesus identifies the problem with such biblicism: “You search the scriptures because you think that in them you have eternal life; and it is they that testify on My behalf. Yet you refuse to come to Me to have life.” (John 5:39) This error undoubtedly continues among us today. It is quite easy to read the Bible, learn its lessons, and dress ourselves up in all the nice outward trappings of being a good Christian. We can even go so far as to order our lives according to biblical principles, trying to live according to "Judeo-Christian values."
And yet we can do all of that while at the same time refusing to come to the living Jesus. We can achieve all sorts of appearances and feelings that we are indeed Christian, while simultaneously withholding ourselves from God. This is the error of we who “search the scriptures” and yet refuse to come to Jesus so that we might truly have life. It is the attempt to be a Christian without Christ.
There is an opposite error to that of biblicism, and this opposite error often grows out of a desire to not be a biblicist. Because the Bible is indeed not the same thing as the living God, we jump to the conclusion that the Bible is contrary to God. This error expresses itself in a number of ways, chief of which is the dismissal of the Bible’s authority. When we come across things in the Bible that are difficult to understand or run contrary to our current way of thinking, we conclude, “Well, since the Bible is not the same as God, I am free to reject those parts with which I disagree.”
This is a gross mistake. We must recall that Jesus referred to the scriptures as “they that testify on My behalf.” True, the testimony is not to be confused with the One to whom they testify. Nevertheless, we do not know the living Jesus apart from such testimony. We have a tendency (I’m guilty of it myself) to imagine God in a way that is pleasant to us, and then to reject the parts of Scripture that disturb this preconceived image. Yet this preconceived image of God is nothing more than an idol, and it must be rejected if we are to know the living God to whom the Bible testifies.
So there we have our two errors. We are not to be biblicists who refuse to come to the living God, nor are we to reject Scripture because it contradicts whom we think God should be. The Bible is not God, but it does indeed point to Him.
There is one more question to consider. If the Bible testifies to Jesus and does not in fact reveal Him, then how is He revealed? The Bible itself addresses the issue in the story of the men on the road to Emmaus. The risen Jesus encountered these men and “interpreted to them the things about Himself in all the scriptures.” (Luke 24:27) Even this, however, did not reveal Jesus. The account continues: “When He was at the table with them, He took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them. Then their eyes were opened, and they recognized Him; and He vanished from their sight.” (Luke 24:30-31)
The men on the road to Emmaus then went on to tell “what had happened on the road, and how He had been made known to them in the breaking of bread.” (Luke 24:35) Jesus, it is important to note, still reveals Himself to us in the breaking of bread. He reveals Himself to us in the Meal celebrated among Christians. It is called by various names: the Lord’s Supper, Holy Communion, Eucharist, etc. The important thing is not the name, but the One who reveals Himself to us in the breaking of bread. As we eat the bread together, we hear these words: “This is my body, given for you.” This is the One to whom the Bible testifies. We know Him because we are guests at His table. Furthermore, we know Him because He is our Bread of Life.
The first error is to think that the Bible is God. This is usually referred to derisively as “biblicism.” If being a “biblicist” means taking the Bible seriously, then all Christians should be biblicists. However, if being a “biblicist” means equating the Bible with God, then Christians should run from this error.
In the Gospel of John, Jesus identifies the problem with such biblicism: “You search the scriptures because you think that in them you have eternal life; and it is they that testify on My behalf. Yet you refuse to come to Me to have life.” (John 5:39) This error undoubtedly continues among us today. It is quite easy to read the Bible, learn its lessons, and dress ourselves up in all the nice outward trappings of being a good Christian. We can even go so far as to order our lives according to biblical principles, trying to live according to "Judeo-Christian values."
And yet we can do all of that while at the same time refusing to come to the living Jesus. We can achieve all sorts of appearances and feelings that we are indeed Christian, while simultaneously withholding ourselves from God. This is the error of we who “search the scriptures” and yet refuse to come to Jesus so that we might truly have life. It is the attempt to be a Christian without Christ.
There is an opposite error to that of biblicism, and this opposite error often grows out of a desire to not be a biblicist. Because the Bible is indeed not the same thing as the living God, we jump to the conclusion that the Bible is contrary to God. This error expresses itself in a number of ways, chief of which is the dismissal of the Bible’s authority. When we come across things in the Bible that are difficult to understand or run contrary to our current way of thinking, we conclude, “Well, since the Bible is not the same as God, I am free to reject those parts with which I disagree.”
This is a gross mistake. We must recall that Jesus referred to the scriptures as “they that testify on My behalf.” True, the testimony is not to be confused with the One to whom they testify. Nevertheless, we do not know the living Jesus apart from such testimony. We have a tendency (I’m guilty of it myself) to imagine God in a way that is pleasant to us, and then to reject the parts of Scripture that disturb this preconceived image. Yet this preconceived image of God is nothing more than an idol, and it must be rejected if we are to know the living God to whom the Bible testifies.
So there we have our two errors. We are not to be biblicists who refuse to come to the living God, nor are we to reject Scripture because it contradicts whom we think God should be. The Bible is not God, but it does indeed point to Him.
There is one more question to consider. If the Bible testifies to Jesus and does not in fact reveal Him, then how is He revealed? The Bible itself addresses the issue in the story of the men on the road to Emmaus. The risen Jesus encountered these men and “interpreted to them the things about Himself in all the scriptures.” (Luke 24:27) Even this, however, did not reveal Jesus. The account continues: “When He was at the table with them, He took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them. Then their eyes were opened, and they recognized Him; and He vanished from their sight.” (Luke 24:30-31)
The men on the road to Emmaus then went on to tell “what had happened on the road, and how He had been made known to them in the breaking of bread.” (Luke 24:35) Jesus, it is important to note, still reveals Himself to us in the breaking of bread. He reveals Himself to us in the Meal celebrated among Christians. It is called by various names: the Lord’s Supper, Holy Communion, Eucharist, etc. The important thing is not the name, but the One who reveals Himself to us in the breaking of bread. As we eat the bread together, we hear these words: “This is my body, given for you.” This is the One to whom the Bible testifies. We know Him because we are guests at His table. Furthermore, we know Him because He is our Bread of Life.
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Nothing Will Be Impossible with God
Having grown up in southern California, I hadn’t experienced much of the seasons until I moved to Iowa for seminary. What I’ve noticed since living in the Midwest is the effect the seasons have on us. Right now the leaves look painted (predominantly in reds, oranges, and yellows) and the air is crisply dry. It’s a pretty scene, and yet it gives everyone here a strange feeling. Despite all the beauty, things are dying. Winter, which is long and dark and cold, is coming. We’re entering a time when are spirits are brought low.
What does this change of the seasons and the affect on our mood have to do with the Christian life? Let me explain. During times in which our spirits are low and our moods are decidedly negative, God’s greatest commandments (to love Him above all else and to love our neighbor as ourselves) show themselves to be increasingly impossible for us. This isn’t just limited to winter: our spirits can be brought low by all sorts of things, like poor health or the loss of a job. Regardless of the cause, having a low spirit makes love of God and neighbor into an unbearable burden.
Often the solution to the problem of low spirits involves a tremendous effort to lift ourselves up. There are a number of approaches, some more effective than others: celebrations (Thanksgiving and Christmas are great for this), a few glasses of wine, moving to Florida or Arizona for a few months of the year (think of the “snowbirds”), etc. None of these efforts is a bad thing in itself and some are quite effective at lifting our spirits, though it is worth noting that some can lead to even bigger problems when pursued to excess.
The problem, however, is the erroneous thinking that having high spirits means that we are thereby fulfilling the commands to love God and our neighbor, or that having low spirits means that we are failing in these Christian duties. We must recall that faith, hope, and love abide. In other words, true faith, true hope, and true love do not depend on our moods or feelings. They are duties, and if they are to be fulfilled then they must be fulfilled continuously.
So what does this mean? If love of God and neighbor is our duty to be fulfilled continuously, then do we respond by gritting our teeth and doing it against our will? This, however, is not Christian love any more than the kind of love that loves only when it feels good. Because true love is free, to love God and our neighbor against our will is not love at all. Such love, just like the love that depends on having high spirits, fails to fulfill the command.
True Christian love of God does not depend on things going our way in life. Likewise, true Christian love of neighbor does not depend on our neighbor being lovable. To put both of these statements together: the fulfillment of the two greatest commandments does not depend on whether our spirits are high or low. Rather, true love depends on God’s gift.
Here we must note that God’s Word speaks of love in two ways: as a duty that we must fulfill, and as a gift to be received. Many are aware of the duty; few are willing to hear that love is a gift of the Spirit. (See 1 Corinthians 13, in which love is identified as the greatest gift of the Spirit.)
If love is not first received as a gift, the duty will remain impossible. When our spirits are brought low (here comes winter, my friends), we will notice that our so-called love disappears. Or when we come across someone we dislike, we will notice that our so-called love is limited to the lovable.
Apart from God’s gift, true love remains an impossibility. How, then, do we get this gift? The only way to get this gift is to receive it through faith. Said differently, we receive the gift by surrendering unreservedly to God.
As I said in my previous post, this faith looks much like that of Mary. When told “you will conceive in your womb and bear a son,” Mary responds, “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.” (Luke 1:38) Through such faith, the impossible happened: the Virgin conceived and bore a Son. When told “you shall love the Lord your God above all else, and you shall love your neighbor as yourself,” we can only say, “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.” And through such faith, the impossible will happen: despite lowliness of spirit we will nevertheless have love.
In summary, to love God above all else and to love one’s neighbor as oneself are impossible tasks, especially when life doesn’t go our way and our spirits are brought low. However, by God’s gift, this impossible love becomes not only a possibility but a reality. It is just as the angel said to Mary: “For nothing will be impossible with God.” (Luke 1:37)
What does this change of the seasons and the affect on our mood have to do with the Christian life? Let me explain. During times in which our spirits are low and our moods are decidedly negative, God’s greatest commandments (to love Him above all else and to love our neighbor as ourselves) show themselves to be increasingly impossible for us. This isn’t just limited to winter: our spirits can be brought low by all sorts of things, like poor health or the loss of a job. Regardless of the cause, having a low spirit makes love of God and neighbor into an unbearable burden.
Often the solution to the problem of low spirits involves a tremendous effort to lift ourselves up. There are a number of approaches, some more effective than others: celebrations (Thanksgiving and Christmas are great for this), a few glasses of wine, moving to Florida or Arizona for a few months of the year (think of the “snowbirds”), etc. None of these efforts is a bad thing in itself and some are quite effective at lifting our spirits, though it is worth noting that some can lead to even bigger problems when pursued to excess.
The problem, however, is the erroneous thinking that having high spirits means that we are thereby fulfilling the commands to love God and our neighbor, or that having low spirits means that we are failing in these Christian duties. We must recall that faith, hope, and love abide. In other words, true faith, true hope, and true love do not depend on our moods or feelings. They are duties, and if they are to be fulfilled then they must be fulfilled continuously.
So what does this mean? If love of God and neighbor is our duty to be fulfilled continuously, then do we respond by gritting our teeth and doing it against our will? This, however, is not Christian love any more than the kind of love that loves only when it feels good. Because true love is free, to love God and our neighbor against our will is not love at all. Such love, just like the love that depends on having high spirits, fails to fulfill the command.
True Christian love of God does not depend on things going our way in life. Likewise, true Christian love of neighbor does not depend on our neighbor being lovable. To put both of these statements together: the fulfillment of the two greatest commandments does not depend on whether our spirits are high or low. Rather, true love depends on God’s gift.
Here we must note that God’s Word speaks of love in two ways: as a duty that we must fulfill, and as a gift to be received. Many are aware of the duty; few are willing to hear that love is a gift of the Spirit. (See 1 Corinthians 13, in which love is identified as the greatest gift of the Spirit.)
If love is not first received as a gift, the duty will remain impossible. When our spirits are brought low (here comes winter, my friends), we will notice that our so-called love disappears. Or when we come across someone we dislike, we will notice that our so-called love is limited to the lovable.
Apart from God’s gift, true love remains an impossibility. How, then, do we get this gift? The only way to get this gift is to receive it through faith. Said differently, we receive the gift by surrendering unreservedly to God.
As I said in my previous post, this faith looks much like that of Mary. When told “you will conceive in your womb and bear a son,” Mary responds, “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.” (Luke 1:38) Through such faith, the impossible happened: the Virgin conceived and bore a Son. When told “you shall love the Lord your God above all else, and you shall love your neighbor as yourself,” we can only say, “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.” And through such faith, the impossible will happen: despite lowliness of spirit we will nevertheless have love.
In summary, to love God above all else and to love one’s neighbor as oneself are impossible tasks, especially when life doesn’t go our way and our spirits are brought low. However, by God’s gift, this impossible love becomes not only a possibility but a reality. It is just as the angel said to Mary: “For nothing will be impossible with God.” (Luke 1:37)
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Here am I, the Servant of the Lord
The last two posts on this blog have centered on faith. Actually, every post in this blog is related to faith. Truly, Christianity can be neither understood nor lived apart from faith.
With that said, I’d like to hold up Mary, the mother of Jesus, as a beautiful example of faith. It is written in the first chapter of Luke that Mary “found favor with God” and that the angel Gabriel said to her, “And now, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you will name him Jesus. He will be great, and will be called the Son of the Most High, and the Lord God will give to him the throne of his ancestor David. He will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end.”
Of course, this is a curious thing to say to a virgin. Mary thus responds, “How can this be, since I am a virgin?” The angel says, “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you; therefore the child to be born will be holy; he will be called Son of God.”
Gabriel’s announcement to Mary that she will bear Christ to the world has been referred to by the Church as “The Annunciation.” What I’d like to highlight especially is Mary’s response, which is a wonderful example of faith:
“Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.” (Luke 1:38)
Mary is told the Word of God, and her response is simple. Her response is to believe the Word, to trust in it. In other words, Mary entrusts herself to the Word that is spoken to her. It is through such faith that Mary bears Christ to the world.
God’s Word to us is just like God’s Word to Mary: we are called to bear Christ to the world. How do we do such a thing, which seems as impossible as a virgin giving birth to a child? Let us be like Mary, whose words signify simple faith and obedience to God’s Word. Let her words be ours: “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.”
With that said, I’d like to hold up Mary, the mother of Jesus, as a beautiful example of faith. It is written in the first chapter of Luke that Mary “found favor with God” and that the angel Gabriel said to her, “And now, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you will name him Jesus. He will be great, and will be called the Son of the Most High, and the Lord God will give to him the throne of his ancestor David. He will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end.”
Of course, this is a curious thing to say to a virgin. Mary thus responds, “How can this be, since I am a virgin?” The angel says, “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you; therefore the child to be born will be holy; he will be called Son of God.”
Gabriel’s announcement to Mary that she will bear Christ to the world has been referred to by the Church as “The Annunciation.” What I’d like to highlight especially is Mary’s response, which is a wonderful example of faith:
“Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.” (Luke 1:38)
Mary is told the Word of God, and her response is simple. Her response is to believe the Word, to trust in it. In other words, Mary entrusts herself to the Word that is spoken to her. It is through such faith that Mary bears Christ to the world.
God’s Word to us is just like God’s Word to Mary: we are called to bear Christ to the world. How do we do such a thing, which seems as impossible as a virgin giving birth to a child? Let us be like Mary, whose words signify simple faith and obedience to God’s Word. Let her words be ours: “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.”
Sunday, October 17, 2010
What is Faith?
In my previous post, The Assurance of Things Hoped For, I wrote of faith as that which overcomes sin and, on the Last Day, will overcome death. Faith receives God's promises. Said more fully, it receives the Holy Spirit, who is our guarantee of such promises.
Often faith is conceived of as a paltry thing, as an idle knowledge of facts that makes no real difference in our lives. This is not true faith. What, then, is true faith? Perhaps the most complete definition I've come across is in Martin Luther's Preface to Romans:
Faith is not that human illusion and dream that some people think it is. When they hear and talk a lot about faith and yet see that no moral improvement and no good works result from it, they fall into error and say, "Faith is not enough. You must do works if you want to be virtuous and get to heaven." The result is that, when they hear the Gospel, they stumble and make for themselves with their own powers a concept in their hearts which says, "I believe." This concept they hold to be true faith. But since it is a human fabrication and thought and not an experience of the heart, it accomplishes nothing, and there follows no improvement.
Faith is a work of God in us, which changes us and brings us to birth anew from God (cf. John 1). It kills the old Adam, makes us completely different people in heart, mind, senses, and all our powers, and brings the Holy Spirit with it. What a living, creative, active powerful thing is faith! It is impossible that faith ever stop doing good. Faith doesn't ask whether good works are to be done, but, before it is asked, it has done them. It is always active. Whoever doesn't do such works is without faith; he gropes and searches about him for faith and good works but doesn't know what faith or good works are. Even so, he chatters on with a great many words about faith and good works.
Faith is a living, unshakeable confidence in God's grace; it is so certain, that someone would die a thousand times for it. This kind of trust in and knowledge of God's grace makes a person joyful, confident, and happy with regard to God and all creatures. This is what the Holy Spirit does by faith. Through faith, a person will do good to everyone without coercion, willingly and happily; he will serve everyone, suffer everything for the love and praise of God, who has shown him such grace. It is as impossible to separate works from faith as burning and shining from fire. Therefore be on guard against your own false ideas and against the chatterers who think they are clever enough to make judgements about faith and good works but who are in reality the biggest fools. Ask God to work faith in you; otherwise you will remain eternally without faith, no matter what you try to do or fabricate.
Often faith is conceived of as a paltry thing, as an idle knowledge of facts that makes no real difference in our lives. This is not true faith. What, then, is true faith? Perhaps the most complete definition I've come across is in Martin Luther's Preface to Romans:
Faith is not that human illusion and dream that some people think it is. When they hear and talk a lot about faith and yet see that no moral improvement and no good works result from it, they fall into error and say, "Faith is not enough. You must do works if you want to be virtuous and get to heaven." The result is that, when they hear the Gospel, they stumble and make for themselves with their own powers a concept in their hearts which says, "I believe." This concept they hold to be true faith. But since it is a human fabrication and thought and not an experience of the heart, it accomplishes nothing, and there follows no improvement.
Faith is a work of God in us, which changes us and brings us to birth anew from God (cf. John 1). It kills the old Adam, makes us completely different people in heart, mind, senses, and all our powers, and brings the Holy Spirit with it. What a living, creative, active powerful thing is faith! It is impossible that faith ever stop doing good. Faith doesn't ask whether good works are to be done, but, before it is asked, it has done them. It is always active. Whoever doesn't do such works is without faith; he gropes and searches about him for faith and good works but doesn't know what faith or good works are. Even so, he chatters on with a great many words about faith and good works.
Faith is a living, unshakeable confidence in God's grace; it is so certain, that someone would die a thousand times for it. This kind of trust in and knowledge of God's grace makes a person joyful, confident, and happy with regard to God and all creatures. This is what the Holy Spirit does by faith. Through faith, a person will do good to everyone without coercion, willingly and happily; he will serve everyone, suffer everything for the love and praise of God, who has shown him such grace. It is as impossible to separate works from faith as burning and shining from fire. Therefore be on guard against your own false ideas and against the chatterers who think they are clever enough to make judgements about faith and good works but who are in reality the biggest fools. Ask God to work faith in you; otherwise you will remain eternally without faith, no matter what you try to do or fabricate.
Sunday, September 19, 2010
The Assurance of Things Hoped For
"Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen." (Hebrews 11:1) The writer of the letter to the Hebrews provides us with a definition of faith that is both profound and concise. He goes on to give numerous examples of faith, including that of Abel, Noah, Abraham, and Moses. These examples of faith lead to the following conclusion: "Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight and the sin that clings so closely, and let us run with perseverence the race that was set before us, looking to Jesus the pioneer and perfecter of our faith..." (Hebrews 12:1-2)
This begs the question: Is faith alone indeed sufficient for us to obtain God's promise? Is faith sufficient for us to receive the gift of His Spirit and, ultimately, to inherit His Kingdom? Can faith really defeat sin and, on the Last Day, overcome death? This is, of course, one of the more enduring arguments among Christians and one of the more persistent doubts even among those who say "yes" to these questions.
Nevertheless, the Word of God answers our questions and doubts with simplicity and clarity: "According to your faith let it be done to you." (Matthew 9:29) These are the words of the incarnate Word of God Himself. Jesus spoke these words to two blind men who had begged for healing. Just before, Jesus had asked them if they believed that he was able to able to open their eyes. Their response is a clear confession of faith: "Yes, Lord." (Matthew 9:28)
Jesus' words still stand. Said differently, God's Word still speaks today. It is true: faith alone is sufficient to receive God's promise. We might not understand the promise. When we look around us, we might not see any evidence that the promise will be fulfilled. But God does not ask that we understand or see the promise; He asks that we believe in it.
And so faith, which is the assurance of things hoped for and the conviction of things not seen, receives the promise. In believing, we receive the Spirit as our guarantee (see Ephesians 1:13-14). It was by the power of this same Spirit that God the Father rose His Son Jesus from the dead. And it is by the power of this same Spirit that our sin is overcome and death conquered.
Jesus asked the blind men: "Do you believe that I am able to do this?" (Matthew 9:28) God asks us today: Do you believe that I am able to do this? Let the blind men's words be ours: "Yes, Lord." And let God's words be God's: "According to your faith let it be done to you."
This begs the question: Is faith alone indeed sufficient for us to obtain God's promise? Is faith sufficient for us to receive the gift of His Spirit and, ultimately, to inherit His Kingdom? Can faith really defeat sin and, on the Last Day, overcome death? This is, of course, one of the more enduring arguments among Christians and one of the more persistent doubts even among those who say "yes" to these questions.
Nevertheless, the Word of God answers our questions and doubts with simplicity and clarity: "According to your faith let it be done to you." (Matthew 9:29) These are the words of the incarnate Word of God Himself. Jesus spoke these words to two blind men who had begged for healing. Just before, Jesus had asked them if they believed that he was able to able to open their eyes. Their response is a clear confession of faith: "Yes, Lord." (Matthew 9:28)
Jesus' words still stand. Said differently, God's Word still speaks today. It is true: faith alone is sufficient to receive God's promise. We might not understand the promise. When we look around us, we might not see any evidence that the promise will be fulfilled. But God does not ask that we understand or see the promise; He asks that we believe in it.
And so faith, which is the assurance of things hoped for and the conviction of things not seen, receives the promise. In believing, we receive the Spirit as our guarantee (see Ephesians 1:13-14). It was by the power of this same Spirit that God the Father rose His Son Jesus from the dead. And it is by the power of this same Spirit that our sin is overcome and death conquered.
Jesus asked the blind men: "Do you believe that I am able to do this?" (Matthew 9:28) God asks us today: Do you believe that I am able to do this? Let the blind men's words be ours: "Yes, Lord." And let God's words be God's: "According to your faith let it be done to you."
Saturday, August 28, 2010
This is the Promised Land?
In the two previous posts about being "Strangers in a Strange Land," I noted that we find ourselves enslaved by our own sin. I further noted that the way out of this "Egypt" and into the Promised Land is baptism into the death of Jesus. Said differently, the way out is to heed Jesus' call to turn away from the "Pharoahs" that enslave us and to follow Him. Yes, this call looks like and does indeed entail death. And yet, Jesus' promise is that from this death comes life.
We reach the point, therefore, in which we have been freed from sin. We are no longer slaves. We have received the Holy Spirit, and "where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom." (II Corinthians 3:17) However, something still isn't right. If we are to look around and honestly assess our lives in this world, surely we must admit that this cannot be the Promised Land. If this is the Kingdom of God, then it is a disappointment.
Thankfully, this world is not the Kingdom of God. Our Lord has said, "My kingdom is not from this world." (John 18:26) The apostle Paul has said, "We look not at what can be seen but at what cannot be seen; for what can be seen is temporary, but what cannot be seen is eternal." (II Corinthians 4:18) This last quote might seem absurd: how do we look at something that cannot be seen? The answer: through faith. The Promised Land is a promise, and thus all we can do is trust in it.
And so we see the invisible Kingdom of God through faith. Yes, there will come a Day on which "we will see face to face." (I Corinthians 13:12) That Day, however, has not yet fully arrived. We are still flesh and blood, and "flesh and blood cannot inherit the Kingdom of God." (I Corinthians 15:50)
If we are no longer in "Egypt," and not yet in the Promised Land, then where are we? It is important to recall that Israel crossed the Red Sea out of Egypt and into the wilderness. No longer slaves of sin, we too now live in the wilderness. It is no accident that Jesus, after his baptism, was "led up by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil." (Matthew 4:1) We too, baptized into Jesus, have been led into the wilderness. Although we are free from slavery to sin, we are still "tempted by the devil."
If we are indeed living in the wilderness, then it is important to recall how Israel survived its journey through the wilderness. Yes, there was a lot of complaining and failure on that journey (see the book of Numbers for plentiful examples). Such complaining and failure was always due to distrust in the promise. How, though, did Israel survive in the wilderness? They received "bread from heaven" (Exodus 16:4), and water from a rock that Moses struck with his staff. (cf. Numbers 20:11)
If we, like Israel, live in the wilderness, then where are we to find this "bread from heaven" and this mysterious rock from which water springs? The New Testament Scriptures are unequivocal: Jesus himself is our bread and our rock. As He said, "I am the bread of life." (John 6:25). Further, "Those who drink of the water that I willl give them will never be thirsty." (John 4:14). The apostle Paul draws the connection, describing Isreael's life in the wilderness by saying that "all ate the same spiritual food, and all ate the same spiritual drink. For they drank from the spiritual rock that followed them, and the rock was Christ." (I Corinthians 10:3-4)
We survive in this wilderness, then, not by turning back to slavery in Egypt (which is still quite tempting). Rather, we survive this barren place by drinking from the spiritual rock and eating the bread of life: Jesus Christ. The Promised Land remains a promise, and it is our hope to attain it on that Day.
As a final note, it is no accident that the name of our Lord is Jesus. This name is the Greek form of the Hebrew name Joshua. Isreael, remember, was led from the wilderness into their promised land by the man named Joshua. Likewise, we will be led from this wilderness into the eternal Promised Land by the true Joshua: Jesus Christ.
We reach the point, therefore, in which we have been freed from sin. We are no longer slaves. We have received the Holy Spirit, and "where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom." (II Corinthians 3:17) However, something still isn't right. If we are to look around and honestly assess our lives in this world, surely we must admit that this cannot be the Promised Land. If this is the Kingdom of God, then it is a disappointment.
Thankfully, this world is not the Kingdom of God. Our Lord has said, "My kingdom is not from this world." (John 18:26) The apostle Paul has said, "We look not at what can be seen but at what cannot be seen; for what can be seen is temporary, but what cannot be seen is eternal." (II Corinthians 4:18) This last quote might seem absurd: how do we look at something that cannot be seen? The answer: through faith. The Promised Land is a promise, and thus all we can do is trust in it.
And so we see the invisible Kingdom of God through faith. Yes, there will come a Day on which "we will see face to face." (I Corinthians 13:12) That Day, however, has not yet fully arrived. We are still flesh and blood, and "flesh and blood cannot inherit the Kingdom of God." (I Corinthians 15:50)
If we are no longer in "Egypt," and not yet in the Promised Land, then where are we? It is important to recall that Israel crossed the Red Sea out of Egypt and into the wilderness. No longer slaves of sin, we too now live in the wilderness. It is no accident that Jesus, after his baptism, was "led up by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil." (Matthew 4:1) We too, baptized into Jesus, have been led into the wilderness. Although we are free from slavery to sin, we are still "tempted by the devil."
If we are indeed living in the wilderness, then it is important to recall how Israel survived its journey through the wilderness. Yes, there was a lot of complaining and failure on that journey (see the book of Numbers for plentiful examples). Such complaining and failure was always due to distrust in the promise. How, though, did Israel survive in the wilderness? They received "bread from heaven" (Exodus 16:4), and water from a rock that Moses struck with his staff. (cf. Numbers 20:11)
If we, like Israel, live in the wilderness, then where are we to find this "bread from heaven" and this mysterious rock from which water springs? The New Testament Scriptures are unequivocal: Jesus himself is our bread and our rock. As He said, "I am the bread of life." (John 6:25). Further, "Those who drink of the water that I willl give them will never be thirsty." (John 4:14). The apostle Paul draws the connection, describing Isreael's life in the wilderness by saying that "all ate the same spiritual food, and all ate the same spiritual drink. For they drank from the spiritual rock that followed them, and the rock was Christ." (I Corinthians 10:3-4)
We survive in this wilderness, then, not by turning back to slavery in Egypt (which is still quite tempting). Rather, we survive this barren place by drinking from the spiritual rock and eating the bread of life: Jesus Christ. The Promised Land remains a promise, and it is our hope to attain it on that Day.
As a final note, it is no accident that the name of our Lord is Jesus. This name is the Greek form of the Hebrew name Joshua. Isreael, remember, was led from the wilderness into their promised land by the man named Joshua. Likewise, we will be led from this wilderness into the eternal Promised Land by the true Joshua: Jesus Christ.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Addendum to "Strangers in a Strange Land"
In the previous post, I noted that we, like Moses, are "strangers in a strange land" (Exodus 2:22). As Jesus says, we are enslaved by sin (cf. John 8:34).
If we are to be free, we must ask ourselves: What is the sin, the "Pharoah," that enslaves us? More to the point, what is the sin that enslaves you? Whatever it may be, it cannot be worshiped alongside the one true God:
"I the Lord your God am a jealous God..." (Exodus 20:5)
"No one can serve two masters; for a slave will either hate the one and love the other, or be devoted to the one and despise the other." (Matthew 6:24)
The sin that enslaves us must be given up if true worship of the one true God is to happen. Yes, giving up that sin looks like death and, therefore, seems to be an impossible demand. And yet, Jesus promises otherwise:
"Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light." (Matthew 11:28-30)
If we are to be free, we must ask ourselves: What is the sin, the "Pharoah," that enslaves us? More to the point, what is the sin that enslaves you? Whatever it may be, it cannot be worshiped alongside the one true God:
"I the Lord your God am a jealous God..." (Exodus 20:5)
"No one can serve two masters; for a slave will either hate the one and love the other, or be devoted to the one and despise the other." (Matthew 6:24)
The sin that enslaves us must be given up if true worship of the one true God is to happen. Yes, giving up that sin looks like death and, therefore, seems to be an impossible demand. And yet, Jesus promises otherwise:
"Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light." (Matthew 11:28-30)
Friday, August 6, 2010
Strangers in a Strange Land
Moses described his life in Egypt in this way: "I have been a stranger in a strange land.” (Exodus 2:22). When he said this, he and all of the Israelites were enslaved in Egypt. Even though Moses was born there, he did not consider Egypt his rightful home. Indeed, he was a slave in a foreign land. He knew that he belonged elsewhere.
According to Jesus, the story of Moses' estrangement and enslavement is not merely Moses' story: it is ours too. In the Gospel of John, Jesus says that those who continue in his word will know the truth and, in turn, the truth will make them free. A few who hear Jesus are puzzled, saying, "We are descendents of Abraham and have never been slaves to anyone. What do you mean by saying, 'You will be made free'?" (John 8:33)
This response might very well be the same thing we say to Jesus. We were born into this world and, yes, many of us have a wonderful degree of freedom. Nevertheless, Jesus views our condition on a far deeper level. His statement cuts directly to our core: "Very truly, I tell you, everyone who commits sin is a slave to sin." (John 8:34)
If we are to reflect properly on this statement of Jesus, we must first consider what this sin is of which Jesus speaks. At its root, our sin is due to the fact that we try (always in vain) to derive abundant joy and eternal life from the things in this world (i.e. a nice place to live, a good reputation, or even our good deeds). Rather than receiving such joy and life from the hand of God, we have “exchanged the truth about God for a lie and worshiped and served the creature rather than the Creator.” (Romans 1:25)
Because of this sin, we find ourselves enslaved in a land that is not our home. We were all made to dwell in another place, a place promised by God to his people. That place is what we call the Promised Land. It is the Kingdom of God, it is not of this world (cf. John 18:36), and it is our true home.
Now the question must be asked: How do we leave this "Egypt" and enter the Promised Land? Moses, by God's power, led Israel through the Red Sea. This passage through the Red Sea is a sign pointing to the true passage out of sin: baptism into the death of Jesus. In this baptism, God drowns our “Egyptians” and frees our “Israelites.”
Of course, we must not think that baptism is merely a one-time event that has no significance after it has occurred. As Martin Luther wrote in his Large Catechism, “a Christian life is nothing else than a daily baptism, begun once and continuing ever after. For we must keep at is without ceasing, always purging whatever pertains to the old Adam, so that whatever belongs to the new creature may come forth.”
It is worth noting here that Jesus refers to himself as “the way.” (John 14:6) Thus, baptism into the death of Jesus is our way out of this “Egypt” and into the true Promised Land. This ongoing baptism, consisting of continual and humble repentance, might look like nothing but death to us. We might rather remain in the safety of Egypt. However, the safety of Egypt is nothing but slavery in a “strange land.” Furthermore, to die the death of repentance is to die with Jesus Christ, who rose from the dead and who promises that we too will be raised. As the apostle Paul wrote, “For if we have been united with him in a death like his, we will certainly be united with him in a resurrection like his.” (Romans 6:5)
It is true: in the face of death, the crucified Jesus promises abundant joy and eternal life. This is the sweet, sweet promise to which we cling on our way out of “Egypt” and into the “Red Sea.” Above I noted that Jesus is “the way.” Now we must recall that he is also “the truth and the life.” To die with him is to truly live. Said differently, to die with Jesus in baptism, in continual repentance, is to leave this “strange land” on our way to our true homeland. That true homeland is the Kingdom of God. It is where Jesus reigns as our Lord and, therefore, it is where we are truly free, truly alive, and truly blessed.
According to Jesus, the story of Moses' estrangement and enslavement is not merely Moses' story: it is ours too. In the Gospel of John, Jesus says that those who continue in his word will know the truth and, in turn, the truth will make them free. A few who hear Jesus are puzzled, saying, "We are descendents of Abraham and have never been slaves to anyone. What do you mean by saying, 'You will be made free'?" (John 8:33)
This response might very well be the same thing we say to Jesus. We were born into this world and, yes, many of us have a wonderful degree of freedom. Nevertheless, Jesus views our condition on a far deeper level. His statement cuts directly to our core: "Very truly, I tell you, everyone who commits sin is a slave to sin." (John 8:34)
If we are to reflect properly on this statement of Jesus, we must first consider what this sin is of which Jesus speaks. At its root, our sin is due to the fact that we try (always in vain) to derive abundant joy and eternal life from the things in this world (i.e. a nice place to live, a good reputation, or even our good deeds). Rather than receiving such joy and life from the hand of God, we have “exchanged the truth about God for a lie and worshiped and served the creature rather than the Creator.” (Romans 1:25)
Because of this sin, we find ourselves enslaved in a land that is not our home. We were all made to dwell in another place, a place promised by God to his people. That place is what we call the Promised Land. It is the Kingdom of God, it is not of this world (cf. John 18:36), and it is our true home.
Now the question must be asked: How do we leave this "Egypt" and enter the Promised Land? Moses, by God's power, led Israel through the Red Sea. This passage through the Red Sea is a sign pointing to the true passage out of sin: baptism into the death of Jesus. In this baptism, God drowns our “Egyptians” and frees our “Israelites.”
Of course, we must not think that baptism is merely a one-time event that has no significance after it has occurred. As Martin Luther wrote in his Large Catechism, “a Christian life is nothing else than a daily baptism, begun once and continuing ever after. For we must keep at is without ceasing, always purging whatever pertains to the old Adam, so that whatever belongs to the new creature may come forth.”
It is worth noting here that Jesus refers to himself as “the way.” (John 14:6) Thus, baptism into the death of Jesus is our way out of this “Egypt” and into the true Promised Land. This ongoing baptism, consisting of continual and humble repentance, might look like nothing but death to us. We might rather remain in the safety of Egypt. However, the safety of Egypt is nothing but slavery in a “strange land.” Furthermore, to die the death of repentance is to die with Jesus Christ, who rose from the dead and who promises that we too will be raised. As the apostle Paul wrote, “For if we have been united with him in a death like his, we will certainly be united with him in a resurrection like his.” (Romans 6:5)
It is true: in the face of death, the crucified Jesus promises abundant joy and eternal life. This is the sweet, sweet promise to which we cling on our way out of “Egypt” and into the “Red Sea.” Above I noted that Jesus is “the way.” Now we must recall that he is also “the truth and the life.” To die with him is to truly live. Said differently, to die with Jesus in baptism, in continual repentance, is to leave this “strange land” on our way to our true homeland. That true homeland is the Kingdom of God. It is where Jesus reigns as our Lord and, therefore, it is where we are truly free, truly alive, and truly blessed.
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