The Christmas story is in fact a strange one. On a night about two-thousand years ago, God became man. Born of the Virgin Mary in the town of Bethlehem, Jesus was (and still is) God in the flesh. That Christmas story gives rise to the Christmas message. So it's worth asking: What is the message of Christmas? A few thoughts follow.
1. God has assumed human nature not just to see what it’s like. That would be like a lifeguard jumping into a pool in which a man is drowning, not to save the man but to experience what it's like getting wet. The true lifeguard jumps into the pool to save the man who's drowning. Just so, God has assumed human nature in order to redeem that nature and save human life from sin, death, and the grip of the devil.
2. Though the world be dark, “the Light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.” (John 1:5) Though the world be filled with unrest, “the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 4:7) Those who cling to Christ through the obedience of faith see the divine Light, even in the midst of the world’s darkness. They rest in the divine Peace, even in the midst of the world’s unrest.
3. Apart from Christ, the humility and mortality of man hangs a question mark over human existence. Does human life – its ups and downs, its being hemmed in by death – have any meaning? Is there a God? If so, does He care? In Christ, those questions are answered: yes, human life is eternally significant; yes, there is one true God; and yes, this “God so loved the world that He gave his only Son.” (John 3:16)
4. Christ is confirmation of the fact that God is not some crazy tyrant whose will is utterly untrustworthy, but rather the God of love and reason whose will is utterly good. "Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God, trust also in Me." (John 14:1)
5. In Christ, the humility of man has been forever joined to the glory of God, and the mortality of man to the immortality of God. Therefore, in Christ, the humble see God’s glory and the dead are raised to new life.
6. As said above, God has redeemed human nature in Jesus Christ. But what's the appropriate human response? “Turn to God from idols, to serve a living and true God, and to wait for his Son from heaven, whom He raised from the dead – Jesus, who rescues us from the wrath that is coming.” (1 Thessalonians 1:9-10)
7. Turning from lust for idols to the love of God, ordinary people actually participate in the divine nature: “Thus He has given us, through these things, his precious and very great promises, so that through them you may escape the corruption that is in the world because of lust, and may become participants in the divine nature.” (2 Peter 1:4)
8. Ultimately, the Christmas message is that God became man. Why? So that men (and women) might become gods - participants, that is, in the divine nature. Such participation comes not by way of some worldly achievement, but by Way of the humble Christ - by Way of faith, hope, and love.
The incarnation is one of the great mysteries of the Christian faith. All reflections of mine aside, the following is worth hearing over and over again: “And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of the Father’s only Son, full of grace and truth.” (John 1:14) Merry Christmas.
Friday, December 23, 2011
Thursday, December 15, 2011
What Would Mary Do?
“What would Jesus do?” is the common question, but I’d like to propose a new one: What would Mary do? This question seems appropriate, since it’s Mary who gives birth to Christ. If our own lives are to bear Christ (that is in fact our calling), then it’s only right we look to Mary, the Christ-bearer. So what did Mary do? To answer, here’s a breakdown of Luke 1:26-38:
So what did Mary do? It’s quite simple: she trusted and therefore obeyed the Word spoken to her. God’s will was announced to Mary, and she responded with the obedience of faith. She had plans in life, but God’s plan took precedence. Her plans didn’t have to disappear (the engagement with Joseph was still on), but they had to take a backseat to the overarching will of God.
God chose Mary to bear the Gift of Salvation. She could have said “no”, but by the grace of God she did not. She believed that Message which told her, “Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God.” She believed in God’s favor, and so she was unafraid to respond with a wholehearted surrender to the will of God.
Such faith is always a discomforting venture, but through it God's favor is received and Christ is born. So again that question: What would Mary do? She would trust in the favor of God, and because of that trust she would prefer obedience to God’s will over and above her own will. She would say, “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your Word.” (Luke 1:38) In, with, and under those words lies the obedience of faith. And through such faith, the Gift of Salvation is born.
- The announcement of God’s Word to Mary: “Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God. 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.” (1:30-32)
- Her question: “How can this be, for I am a virgin?” (1:34)
- The answer: “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you…Nothing will be impossible with God.” (1:35, 37)
- From the lips and heart of Mary, perhaps the most beautiful confession of faith that the world has heard: “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your Word.” (1:38)
So what did Mary do? It’s quite simple: she trusted and therefore obeyed the Word spoken to her. God’s will was announced to Mary, and she responded with the obedience of faith. She had plans in life, but God’s plan took precedence. Her plans didn’t have to disappear (the engagement with Joseph was still on), but they had to take a backseat to the overarching will of God.
God chose Mary to bear the Gift of Salvation. She could have said “no”, but by the grace of God she did not. She believed that Message which told her, “Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God.” She believed in God’s favor, and so she was unafraid to respond with a wholehearted surrender to the will of God.
Such faith is always a discomforting venture, but through it God's favor is received and Christ is born. So again that question: What would Mary do? She would trust in the favor of God, and because of that trust she would prefer obedience to God’s will over and above her own will. She would say, “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your Word.” (Luke 1:38) In, with, and under those words lies the obedience of faith. And through such faith, the Gift of Salvation is born.
Saturday, December 10, 2011
Thoughts on Advent
I’m no longtime follower of the liturgical calendar, but I’m beginning to appreciate its rhythms and emphases. To speak of Advent, it seems only right that the church focuses her attention on the preaching of John the Baptist, the forerunner and witness to Christ, as we await the celebration of Christ’s coming.
While it might seem right, it’s worth asking why John the Baptist still matters. Christ has come, right? Doesn’t that render John’s ministry superfluous? Ultimately, the question of John’s relevance is best answered through another set of questions: Have we fully entered into the Promised Land? Has Christ come to full maturity in our lives, and are we completely free from temptation and sin? If not, then John’s message still matters.
Perhaps something that gets overlooked in John’s ministry is that it took place “in Bethany across the Jordan.” (John 1:28) I don’t think this is an accident. It makes good sense that God would place John east of the Jordan River, just outside the Promised Land, as a sign that Christ was coming. Christ, of course, would be (and still is) the Way across that River into the true Promised Land above.
The same relationship of John to Christ continues to be true. That is, before Christ comes into the life of a man (and even as he comes to greater and greater maturity in that man’s life), John’s message must do its work: “Make straight the Way of the Lord.” Truly, it seems to me that life in this world is one long Advent of making the Lord's Way straight.
Said differently, life in this world is the true Advent – a time of preparing for and growing toward the fullness of Christ. It’s a time of saying “no” to temptations, pride, distractions, worldly appetites and ambitions, etc. (This would change the current, increasingly commercialized “Advent” quite a bit.) Ultimately, life east of the Jordan is a time of saying “no” to self. We’re not finished products, and for that reason John’s message of repentance and humility is as necessary today as it was then.
So I guess I’m proposing that the Advent emphasis on repentance and humility is one that ought to be lived in every season of life. “Make straight the Way of the Lord” is a message to be heard and heeded as long as Christ has not yet come to full maturity in our lives and as long as we’re still east of the Jordan River.
The good news of this lifelong Advent? As John’s message of repentance is heard and heeded, Christ comes. And as Christ comes, John’s message takes on a second part: “Behold! The Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world.” (John 1:29) It might seem too early to say it, and this is not the Promised Land, but to those who have heard and heeded John’s message, the saying need not be avoided: Merry Christmas. Christ is come.
While it might seem right, it’s worth asking why John the Baptist still matters. Christ has come, right? Doesn’t that render John’s ministry superfluous? Ultimately, the question of John’s relevance is best answered through another set of questions: Have we fully entered into the Promised Land? Has Christ come to full maturity in our lives, and are we completely free from temptation and sin? If not, then John’s message still matters.
Perhaps something that gets overlooked in John’s ministry is that it took place “in Bethany across the Jordan.” (John 1:28) I don’t think this is an accident. It makes good sense that God would place John east of the Jordan River, just outside the Promised Land, as a sign that Christ was coming. Christ, of course, would be (and still is) the Way across that River into the true Promised Land above.
The same relationship of John to Christ continues to be true. That is, before Christ comes into the life of a man (and even as he comes to greater and greater maturity in that man’s life), John’s message must do its work: “Make straight the Way of the Lord.” Truly, it seems to me that life in this world is one long Advent of making the Lord's Way straight.
Said differently, life in this world is the true Advent – a time of preparing for and growing toward the fullness of Christ. It’s a time of saying “no” to temptations, pride, distractions, worldly appetites and ambitions, etc. (This would change the current, increasingly commercialized “Advent” quite a bit.) Ultimately, life east of the Jordan is a time of saying “no” to self. We’re not finished products, and for that reason John’s message of repentance and humility is as necessary today as it was then.
So I guess I’m proposing that the Advent emphasis on repentance and humility is one that ought to be lived in every season of life. “Make straight the Way of the Lord” is a message to be heard and heeded as long as Christ has not yet come to full maturity in our lives and as long as we’re still east of the Jordan River.
The good news of this lifelong Advent? As John’s message of repentance is heard and heeded, Christ comes. And as Christ comes, John’s message takes on a second part: “Behold! The Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world.” (John 1:29) It might seem too early to say it, and this is not the Promised Land, but to those who have heard and heeded John’s message, the saying need not be avoided: Merry Christmas. Christ is come.
Friday, December 2, 2011
A Clunky Christianity
There’s a saying I’ve heard in Lutheran circles: “We do good works not in order to be saved, but because we’ve been saved already.” As far as it goes, this saying is true: salvation is the free gift of God in Christ, and good works are the result of this gift. (Ephesians 2:8-10) However, the way this saying gets used can be nasty stuff. There are a number of reasons why this is so, but I’ll limit myself to three.
First, often this saying is nothing more than a passive-aggressive way of getting someone to do something against his will. It’s said with the intention not of assuring someone of the goodness of God, but of forcing him into action by (secretly) questioning his salvation. This gets even worse when the “good works” being urged aren’t even commanded by God’s Word.
Second, this saying gets used with the underlying assumption that salvation is achieved by way of an attitude change: “If you do this for the right reason – that is, if you do this while keeping in mind that you’re already saved – then you’ll indeed be saved.” It seems to me that this is a new, increasingly subtle promotion of works-righteousness. Contrariwise, we must insist that choosing the right reason to do something is not the new good work that wrests salvation out of God’s hands.
These two problems are rooted in a third: we’ve made no clear connection between the gift of salvation and the good works that follow. Thus, our saying betrays a clunky Christianity that takes God’s gift of salvation and then clumsily tries to attach good works to it. The result is a combination of a dead, ineffective faith with an unnatural appendage called “good works”.
If we’re going to avoid these problems and use our saying rightly, then we ought to draw the connection between God’s gift of salvation (which is the gift of Christ and his Spirit) and the virtue issuing out of those who have received that gift. The connection is quite simple: it is the same God who (1) commands a life of virtue/love, and (2) freely saves from sin and death. The second proposition does not abolish the first, but rather makes its fulfillment possible. We could even say that for those who have faith in the second proposition, obedience to the first is the necessary form that their faith freely takes.
Thus, faith gives rise to love as naturally as a good tree produces good fruit. (Matthew 12:33) Said differently, faith works through love. (Galatians 5:6) It’s a logical connection: those who trust in the love of God will delight in fulfilling that same God’s commandments. True, to the eyes of the flesh, God’s commandments look like nothing more than a call to self-denial and death. But to the eyes of faith, from such self-denial and death comes new life. To the eyes of faith, the crucified Christ is the risen Christ, and dying with him in humility means rising with him in glory.
To go back to our saying – “We do good works not in order to be saved, but because we’ve been saved already” – I hope that its proper use is clear. As a passive-aggressive way of coaxing love out of unwilling hearts, it will succeed only in producing new Pharisees. Any “love” produced by such hearts will be restrained by a deep-seated fear of self-denial and death. (Hebrews 2:15) However, if we use our saying to simultaneously assure one another of the goodness of God and instruct one another in his commandments, then the result will be not hard-hearted Pharisees, but Christians who love freely and joyfully.
Used in this way, and met with the obedience of faith, our saying will be true: We do good works not in order to be saved, but because we’ve been saved already.
First, often this saying is nothing more than a passive-aggressive way of getting someone to do something against his will. It’s said with the intention not of assuring someone of the goodness of God, but of forcing him into action by (secretly) questioning his salvation. This gets even worse when the “good works” being urged aren’t even commanded by God’s Word.
Second, this saying gets used with the underlying assumption that salvation is achieved by way of an attitude change: “If you do this for the right reason – that is, if you do this while keeping in mind that you’re already saved – then you’ll indeed be saved.” It seems to me that this is a new, increasingly subtle promotion of works-righteousness. Contrariwise, we must insist that choosing the right reason to do something is not the new good work that wrests salvation out of God’s hands.
These two problems are rooted in a third: we’ve made no clear connection between the gift of salvation and the good works that follow. Thus, our saying betrays a clunky Christianity that takes God’s gift of salvation and then clumsily tries to attach good works to it. The result is a combination of a dead, ineffective faith with an unnatural appendage called “good works”.
If we’re going to avoid these problems and use our saying rightly, then we ought to draw the connection between God’s gift of salvation (which is the gift of Christ and his Spirit) and the virtue issuing out of those who have received that gift. The connection is quite simple: it is the same God who (1) commands a life of virtue/love, and (2) freely saves from sin and death. The second proposition does not abolish the first, but rather makes its fulfillment possible. We could even say that for those who have faith in the second proposition, obedience to the first is the necessary form that their faith freely takes.
Thus, faith gives rise to love as naturally as a good tree produces good fruit. (Matthew 12:33) Said differently, faith works through love. (Galatians 5:6) It’s a logical connection: those who trust in the love of God will delight in fulfilling that same God’s commandments. True, to the eyes of the flesh, God’s commandments look like nothing more than a call to self-denial and death. But to the eyes of faith, from such self-denial and death comes new life. To the eyes of faith, the crucified Christ is the risen Christ, and dying with him in humility means rising with him in glory.
To go back to our saying – “We do good works not in order to be saved, but because we’ve been saved already” – I hope that its proper use is clear. As a passive-aggressive way of coaxing love out of unwilling hearts, it will succeed only in producing new Pharisees. Any “love” produced by such hearts will be restrained by a deep-seated fear of self-denial and death. (Hebrews 2:15) However, if we use our saying to simultaneously assure one another of the goodness of God and instruct one another in his commandments, then the result will be not hard-hearted Pharisees, but Christians who love freely and joyfully.
Used in this way, and met with the obedience of faith, our saying will be true: We do good works not in order to be saved, but because we’ve been saved already.
Friday, November 18, 2011
Sheep, Goats, and Christ the King
On the church calendar, this Sunday is “Christ the King Sunday”. Naturally, I’ve been wondering what it means to say that Christ is King. More importantly, what does it mean to believe that Christ is King? Perhaps the best way to answer those questions is to define the opposite of having Christ as king. More specifically, I think we can say that the opposite of having Christ as king is having Cain as king. There’s a clear difference between these two states of being, and the delineation of that difference is what follows.
Matthew 25:31-46 (which just so happens to be the Gospel reading in a lot of churches this Sunday) makes the distinction between sheep and goats. On the one hand, the sheep have lived in goodwill toward “the least of these”. On the other, the goats have lived under the law of self-concern. Put differently, while the sheep have lived in the freedom of the law of Christ (Gal. 6:2, 1 Cor. 9:21), the goats have lived as slaves to their appetites and ambitions.
Ultimately, the sheep are those who have Christ as king, while the goats are those who have Cain as king. That is, the sheep have the living Spirit of Christ reigning with grace and truth within them, while the goats have none other than Cain as lord of their will. Why is this so? Because the goats have not trusted God’s promise that the repentant in Christ will receive his grace, that the humble in Christ will be exalted, and that the dead in Christ will be raised to life eternal with their Lord.
In the end (and in the End), the goats have let Cain’s question absolve them from the task of love: “Am I my brother’s keeper?” (Gen. 4:9) In contrast, the sheep have let the Spirit of Christ answer: “Yes, I am.” The sheep have believed that Christ is the one true King - the King who protects, provides for, and blesses his people - and through such faith the Spirit of Christ has led them in the life of goodwill.
On the Last Day, both the sheep and the goats will face judgment. The goats will “go away into eternal punishment.” (Mat. 25:46) But the sheep will be greeted thusly: “Come, you that are blessed by my Father, inherit the Kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world…just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me.” (Mat. 25:34, 40)
The difference between having Cain as king and having Christ as king has eternal significance. It determines who's a goat and who's a sheep, who's turned away from Christ's Kingdom and who enters into the eternal joy thereof. So with all of that said, it seems fitting to conclude with the following words of Christ himself: "Believe in God, believe also in me...and this is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you." (John 14:1, 15:12)
Matthew 25:31-46 (which just so happens to be the Gospel reading in a lot of churches this Sunday) makes the distinction between sheep and goats. On the one hand, the sheep have lived in goodwill toward “the least of these”. On the other, the goats have lived under the law of self-concern. Put differently, while the sheep have lived in the freedom of the law of Christ (Gal. 6:2, 1 Cor. 9:21), the goats have lived as slaves to their appetites and ambitions.
Ultimately, the sheep are those who have Christ as king, while the goats are those who have Cain as king. That is, the sheep have the living Spirit of Christ reigning with grace and truth within them, while the goats have none other than Cain as lord of their will. Why is this so? Because the goats have not trusted God’s promise that the repentant in Christ will receive his grace, that the humble in Christ will be exalted, and that the dead in Christ will be raised to life eternal with their Lord.
In the end (and in the End), the goats have let Cain’s question absolve them from the task of love: “Am I my brother’s keeper?” (Gen. 4:9) In contrast, the sheep have let the Spirit of Christ answer: “Yes, I am.” The sheep have believed that Christ is the one true King - the King who protects, provides for, and blesses his people - and through such faith the Spirit of Christ has led them in the life of goodwill.
On the Last Day, both the sheep and the goats will face judgment. The goats will “go away into eternal punishment.” (Mat. 25:46) But the sheep will be greeted thusly: “Come, you that are blessed by my Father, inherit the Kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world…just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me.” (Mat. 25:34, 40)
The difference between having Cain as king and having Christ as king has eternal significance. It determines who's a goat and who's a sheep, who's turned away from Christ's Kingdom and who enters into the eternal joy thereof. So with all of that said, it seems fitting to conclude with the following words of Christ himself: "Believe in God, believe also in me...and this is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you." (John 14:1, 15:12)
Friday, November 11, 2011
Satan's Spiritual Too
“I’m spiritual, but not religious.” What do you mean by that? I’m convinced that those who say this do so without thinking. It might seem harmless, but there’s something problematic with calling ourselves “spiritual but not religious.” To wit, Satan is spiritual too. I doubt that anyone who calls himself “spiritual but not religious” has that in mind, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t true. So to those who claim they are “spiritual but not religious”, we must ask: What spirit is making you spiritual?
Despite the problems of the “spiritual but not religious” designation, and despite the fact that it often contains minimal thought, I think it can be redeemed. There is truth to it, and it can identify something good. However, the Church needs to be clear about the true and good meaning of “spiritual but not religious”.
By “spiritual” we must mean “led by the Holy Spirit.” That is, we must mean that the Spirit of Christ dwells in our hearts through faith, and that he keeps us rooted and grounded in love. (Ephesians 3:17) It’s worth noting that this same Spirit won’t contradict Jesus, for “he will not speak on his own…he will take what is mine and declare it to you.” (John 16:13, 14)
Thus, a spirit that contradicts God’s Word is not the Holy Spirit, and the person led by such an evil spirit is not “spiritual” in a good sense. By way of contrast, the truly spiritual person clings to the Christ’s Spirit of truth. In turn, this same Spirit makes God’s Word “living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword.” (Hebrews 4:12)
Next, by “not religious” we must mean “free from bondage.” (The word “religion” comes from the Latin word “religio”, which denotes bondage to a law.) The phrase “not religious” must be framed by Romans 8:2: “For the law of the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus has set you free from the law of sin and death.”
In other words, the good meaning of “not religious” is that we are not in bondage to the law of sin and death. The person who says that he is “not religious” but remains enslaved to his own worldly appetites and ambitions doesn’t know how mistaken he is. In contrast, the person who is “not religious” in the good sense must be – because of the Spirit of Christ within – no longer in bondage to sin. As it's written, “Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom.” (2 Corinthians 3:17)
Finally, by “spiritual but not religious” we must mean someone who is like Mary rather than Martha. (Luke 10:38-42) Recall that Mary “sat at the Lord’s feet and listened to what he was saying,” while Martha “was distracted by her many tasks.” Jesus’ speaks to the religious Martha about the spiritual Mary: “Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things; there is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from her.”
So the next time someone says he is “spiritual but not religious”, I recommend responding thusly: “Do you mean you’re like Mary, and that instead of being enslaved to worldly appetites and ambitions, you cling to the Holy Spirit of Christ in faith, hope, and love?” Somehow I doubt he’d say, “Yep, you nailed it.” Nonetheless, maybe it will get him to put some thought behind his words. And maybe – hope against hope – his ears would be open to hear the Word of the One who sets the prisoners free.
Despite the problems of the “spiritual but not religious” designation, and despite the fact that it often contains minimal thought, I think it can be redeemed. There is truth to it, and it can identify something good. However, the Church needs to be clear about the true and good meaning of “spiritual but not religious”.
By “spiritual” we must mean “led by the Holy Spirit.” That is, we must mean that the Spirit of Christ dwells in our hearts through faith, and that he keeps us rooted and grounded in love. (Ephesians 3:17) It’s worth noting that this same Spirit won’t contradict Jesus, for “he will not speak on his own…he will take what is mine and declare it to you.” (John 16:13, 14)
Thus, a spirit that contradicts God’s Word is not the Holy Spirit, and the person led by such an evil spirit is not “spiritual” in a good sense. By way of contrast, the truly spiritual person clings to the Christ’s Spirit of truth. In turn, this same Spirit makes God’s Word “living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword.” (Hebrews 4:12)
Next, by “not religious” we must mean “free from bondage.” (The word “religion” comes from the Latin word “religio”, which denotes bondage to a law.) The phrase “not religious” must be framed by Romans 8:2: “For the law of the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus has set you free from the law of sin and death.”
In other words, the good meaning of “not religious” is that we are not in bondage to the law of sin and death. The person who says that he is “not religious” but remains enslaved to his own worldly appetites and ambitions doesn’t know how mistaken he is. In contrast, the person who is “not religious” in the good sense must be – because of the Spirit of Christ within – no longer in bondage to sin. As it's written, “Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom.” (2 Corinthians 3:17)
Finally, by “spiritual but not religious” we must mean someone who is like Mary rather than Martha. (Luke 10:38-42) Recall that Mary “sat at the Lord’s feet and listened to what he was saying,” while Martha “was distracted by her many tasks.” Jesus’ speaks to the religious Martha about the spiritual Mary: “Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things; there is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from her.”
So the next time someone says he is “spiritual but not religious”, I recommend responding thusly: “Do you mean you’re like Mary, and that instead of being enslaved to worldly appetites and ambitions, you cling to the Holy Spirit of Christ in faith, hope, and love?” Somehow I doubt he’d say, “Yep, you nailed it.” Nonetheless, maybe it will get him to put some thought behind his words. And maybe – hope against hope – his ears would be open to hear the Word of the One who sets the prisoners free.
Friday, November 4, 2011
A Reformation or a Petty Rebellion?
Over the course of the past week, a variety of interpretations of the Reformation have been popping up. On a number of Roman Catholic websites and blogs that I frequent, the Reformation often is interpreted as nothing more than a rebellion against truth and against the Church as “the pillar and bulwark of the truth.” (1 Timothy 3:15) After the way that much of Protestantism has lived out its Reformation heritage, I think these Roman Catholic apologists might be onto something.
In short, it seems that much of the Protestant “protest” is a rebellion against the Church merely because the Church’s teachings are contrary to our likings. Insofar as this is the case, the Reformation becomes nothing more than a petty rebellion against the Church and – because the Church is Christ’s body – against God himself. The message to petty rebels in every time and place? “Obey your leaders and submit to them, for they are keeping watch over your souls and will give an account. Let them do this with joy and not with sighing – for that would be harmful to you.” (Hebrew 13:17)
Despite the Reformation’s tendency to turn vain and self-seeking, there was – and I believe still is – a valid reason for reform. The Reformation was not rejecting the authority of the Church as such, but rather identifying who/what the ultimate authority is. And despite current ideas to the contrary, the ultimate authority is not the individual bound conscience. (This is especially true when that conscience is bound to the spirit of the age.) To speak of Luther, his bound conscience was bound to the Word of God. It is that Word – not the individual conscience as such – that holds the place of ultimate authority in the Church.
Ultimately, to be bound to God’s Word is to be bound to Christ, God’s Word incarnate. (John 1) It is bondage to Christ that truly frees a man from bondage to sin. (John 8) As a quick aside, it’s worth noting that the Christian is bound not to some imaginary Christ of his own making, but to the Christ to whom the Scriptures testify and who is revealed in the breaking of bread. (Luke 24:27, 30-31)
So the Reformation is not about rebelling against authority. Rather, it is about being bound to Christ – the ultimate authority in the Church – above all else. It is about being bound to the truth of the Gospel that Jesus Christ was “handed over to death for our trespasses and was raised for our justification.” (Romans 4:25) The true spirit of the Reformation – if it is to be in line with the Holy Spirit – must be centered on confessing this Gospel in humility and boldness. We would do well to consider and emulate the apostles in the Book of Acts.
In addition to considering the humility and boldness of the apostles, we should remember that love – the primary gift of God’s Spirit – is neither arrogant nor rude. (1 Corinthians 13:4-5) The following is an appropriate exhortation: “Let no evil talk come out of your mouths, but only what is useful for building up, as there is need, so that your words may give grace to those who hear. And do not grieve the Holy Spirit of God, with which you were marked with a seal for the day of redemption.” (Ephesians 4:29-30)
In the end, the Reformation was and is about obedience to Christ above all else. Perhaps that is why the Lutheran Reformers themselves so frequently used Peter’s words from Acts 5:29: “We must obey God rather than men.” Above I said that the petty rebellion of many Protestants is due to the fact that the Church’s teachings are contrary to our likings. In conclusion it must be said that the desire of the true Reformation is not to rid the Church of teachings that are contrary to our likings, but rather to rid Her of teachings that are contrary to the Word of God.
In short, it seems that much of the Protestant “protest” is a rebellion against the Church merely because the Church’s teachings are contrary to our likings. Insofar as this is the case, the Reformation becomes nothing more than a petty rebellion against the Church and – because the Church is Christ’s body – against God himself. The message to petty rebels in every time and place? “Obey your leaders and submit to them, for they are keeping watch over your souls and will give an account. Let them do this with joy and not with sighing – for that would be harmful to you.” (Hebrew 13:17)
Despite the Reformation’s tendency to turn vain and self-seeking, there was – and I believe still is – a valid reason for reform. The Reformation was not rejecting the authority of the Church as such, but rather identifying who/what the ultimate authority is. And despite current ideas to the contrary, the ultimate authority is not the individual bound conscience. (This is especially true when that conscience is bound to the spirit of the age.) To speak of Luther, his bound conscience was bound to the Word of God. It is that Word – not the individual conscience as such – that holds the place of ultimate authority in the Church.
Ultimately, to be bound to God’s Word is to be bound to Christ, God’s Word incarnate. (John 1) It is bondage to Christ that truly frees a man from bondage to sin. (John 8) As a quick aside, it’s worth noting that the Christian is bound not to some imaginary Christ of his own making, but to the Christ to whom the Scriptures testify and who is revealed in the breaking of bread. (Luke 24:27, 30-31)
So the Reformation is not about rebelling against authority. Rather, it is about being bound to Christ – the ultimate authority in the Church – above all else. It is about being bound to the truth of the Gospel that Jesus Christ was “handed over to death for our trespasses and was raised for our justification.” (Romans 4:25) The true spirit of the Reformation – if it is to be in line with the Holy Spirit – must be centered on confessing this Gospel in humility and boldness. We would do well to consider and emulate the apostles in the Book of Acts.
In addition to considering the humility and boldness of the apostles, we should remember that love – the primary gift of God’s Spirit – is neither arrogant nor rude. (1 Corinthians 13:4-5) The following is an appropriate exhortation: “Let no evil talk come out of your mouths, but only what is useful for building up, as there is need, so that your words may give grace to those who hear. And do not grieve the Holy Spirit of God, with which you were marked with a seal for the day of redemption.” (Ephesians 4:29-30)
In the end, the Reformation was and is about obedience to Christ above all else. Perhaps that is why the Lutheran Reformers themselves so frequently used Peter’s words from Acts 5:29: “We must obey God rather than men.” Above I said that the petty rebellion of many Protestants is due to the fact that the Church’s teachings are contrary to our likings. In conclusion it must be said that the desire of the true Reformation is not to rid the Church of teachings that are contrary to our likings, but rather to rid Her of teachings that are contrary to the Word of God.
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Reformation Day
On October 31st, 1517, Martin Luther posted his Ninety-Five Theses on the door of the castle church in Wittenberg, Germany. (The full title of the document is Ninety-Five Theses on the Power and Efficacy of Indulgences.) I suppose Luther's act marked the unofficial start of the Lutheran Reformation, and so this Sunday a lot of churches will celebrate "Reformation Day."
I am ambivalent when it comes to celebrating the Reformation. On the one hand, the disunity of the Church clearly contradicts Jesus’ prayer for unity among his disciples. (John 17) Also, the false teaching that plagues much of Protestantism in general, and Lutheranism in particular, sometimes makes me want to “swim the Tiber” to the Roman Catholic Church. A pope who can put the kibosh on false teaching is pretty appealing.
Nevertheless, I deeply appreciate Martin Luther and his minions, especially Philipp Melanchthon and Martin Chemnitz. The confessions of these reformers are solid reminders of what it means to “worship in spirit and truth.” (John 4:24) Even if Lutheran doctrine often gets misconstrued to mean that we should “continue in sin in order that grace may abound,” an actual reading of the Book of Concord makes it clear that the Lutheran Reformers were in fact upholding “the faith that once for all was entrusted to the saints.” (Jude 1:3)
Whenever we're tempted to seek salvation in the things that we can have, in the deeds that we can do, or in the people that we can become, the confessions point us back to the clear message of Scripture: the Christian life is a gift – Christ himself is the Father’s gift – grasped through faith alone. Yes, love – that is, patience with and kindness toward others, not some schmaltzy “anything goes” love – is the immediate consequence of a living faith. However, the fruit should not be confused with the root.
So, in honor of Reformation Day, here are some notable Lutheran quotes:
“When our Lord and Master, Jesus Christ, said ‘Repent’, He called for the entire life of believers to be one of penitence.” - Thesis #1 of Luther’s Ninety-Five Theses
“This act or ceremony (of baptism) consists of being dipped under the water, which covers us completely, and being drawn out again. These two parts, being dipped under the water and emerging from it, point to the power and effect of baptism, which is nothing else than the slaying of the old Adam and the resurrection of the new creature, both of which must continue in us our whole life long. Thus a Christian life is nothing else than a daily baptism, begun once and continuing ever after. For we must keep at it without ceasing, always purging whatever pertains to the old Adam, so that whatever belongs to the new creature may come forth.” - Luther’s Large Catechism
“Faith is a living and unshakeable confidence, a belief in the grace of God so assured that a man would die a thousand deaths for its sake. This kind of confidence in God’s grace, this sort of knowledge of it, makes us joyful, high-spirited, and eager in our relations with God and with all mankind. That is what the Holy Spirit effects through faith. Hence, the man of faith, without being driven, willingly and gladly seeks to do good to everyone, serve everyone, suffer all kinds of hardships, for the sake of the love and glory of the God who has shown him such grace. It is impossible, indeed, to separate works from faith, just as it is impossible to separate heat and light from fire.” - Luther’s Preface to Romans
“For by grace you have been saved through faith, and this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God – not the result of works, so that no one may boast. For we are what he has made us, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand to be our way of life.” - Ephesians 2:8-10 (Paul was pre-Lutheran)
Happy Reformation Day.
I am ambivalent when it comes to celebrating the Reformation. On the one hand, the disunity of the Church clearly contradicts Jesus’ prayer for unity among his disciples. (John 17) Also, the false teaching that plagues much of Protestantism in general, and Lutheranism in particular, sometimes makes me want to “swim the Tiber” to the Roman Catholic Church. A pope who can put the kibosh on false teaching is pretty appealing.
Nevertheless, I deeply appreciate Martin Luther and his minions, especially Philipp Melanchthon and Martin Chemnitz. The confessions of these reformers are solid reminders of what it means to “worship in spirit and truth.” (John 4:24) Even if Lutheran doctrine often gets misconstrued to mean that we should “continue in sin in order that grace may abound,” an actual reading of the Book of Concord makes it clear that the Lutheran Reformers were in fact upholding “the faith that once for all was entrusted to the saints.” (Jude 1:3)
Whenever we're tempted to seek salvation in the things that we can have, in the deeds that we can do, or in the people that we can become, the confessions point us back to the clear message of Scripture: the Christian life is a gift – Christ himself is the Father’s gift – grasped through faith alone. Yes, love – that is, patience with and kindness toward others, not some schmaltzy “anything goes” love – is the immediate consequence of a living faith. However, the fruit should not be confused with the root.
So, in honor of Reformation Day, here are some notable Lutheran quotes:
“When our Lord and Master, Jesus Christ, said ‘Repent’, He called for the entire life of believers to be one of penitence.” - Thesis #1 of Luther’s Ninety-Five Theses
“This act or ceremony (of baptism) consists of being dipped under the water, which covers us completely, and being drawn out again. These two parts, being dipped under the water and emerging from it, point to the power and effect of baptism, which is nothing else than the slaying of the old Adam and the resurrection of the new creature, both of which must continue in us our whole life long. Thus a Christian life is nothing else than a daily baptism, begun once and continuing ever after. For we must keep at it without ceasing, always purging whatever pertains to the old Adam, so that whatever belongs to the new creature may come forth.” - Luther’s Large Catechism
“Faith is a living and unshakeable confidence, a belief in the grace of God so assured that a man would die a thousand deaths for its sake. This kind of confidence in God’s grace, this sort of knowledge of it, makes us joyful, high-spirited, and eager in our relations with God and with all mankind. That is what the Holy Spirit effects through faith. Hence, the man of faith, without being driven, willingly and gladly seeks to do good to everyone, serve everyone, suffer all kinds of hardships, for the sake of the love and glory of the God who has shown him such grace. It is impossible, indeed, to separate works from faith, just as it is impossible to separate heat and light from fire.” - Luther’s Preface to Romans
“For by grace you have been saved through faith, and this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God – not the result of works, so that no one may boast. For we are what he has made us, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand to be our way of life.” - Ephesians 2:8-10 (Paul was pre-Lutheran)
Happy Reformation Day.
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
Ordination Approval - A Few Thoughts
Last week I was approved for ordination in the North American Lutheran Church (NALC). By this time next year – God-willing – I might just be publicly preaching and teaching the Christian message like nobody’s business. Such a prospect has made me think more and more about what it means to do Word and Sacrament ministry. A few, somewhat-random thoughts are below.
1. “If I proclaim the Gospel, this gives me no ground for boasting, for an obligation is laid on me, and woe to me if I do not proclaim the Gospel!” (1 Corinthians 9:16)
Those are the words of the apostle Paul, but I would venture to say that many people count them as their own. I was converted to faith in Christ by a sermon I heard in high school, and so preaching is something about which I care deeply.
Nevertheless, I have to admit that it’s far easier to speak the Gospel from the pulpit than it is in less-structured settings. The true mettle of faith is demonstrated by those who speak the Word of God in a situation that doesn’t naturally welcome it. Those without such boldness would do well to remember – and would do even better to believe – Jesus’ words: “Everyone who acknowledges me before others, the Son of Man also will acknowledge before the angels of God; but whoever denies me before others will be denied before the angels of God.” (Luke 12:8-9)
Indeed, “woe to me if I do not proclaim the Gospel!”
2. “Do not ordain anyone hastily…” (1 Timothy 5:22)
Ordination is not a right. (It is a rite, but that’s different.) Thus, it is not open to anyone who desires it or even to anyone who thinks God has called him to Word and Sacrament ministry. Assuming that the gifts for ministry are gifts of the Holy Spirit, and assuming that the Church is led by that same Holy Spirit, then the gifts must be recognized and validated by the Church.
Of course, this gets increasingly easier for me to say as I approach ordination. Still, the point stands: “Do not ordain anyone hastily…” The logical flip-side of that is this: If you believe that God has given you a particular gift for the sake of edifying his Church, then submit that belief and that gift to the Church for her Spirit-led determination. (Yes, this gets a lot more complicated by the fact that many “churches” are led by a different spirit than the Holy Spirit, but I’m not even going to try to solve that problem here.)
3. “Jesus said to them again, ‘Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you.’ When he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, ‘Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained.’” (John 20:21-23)
As the above quote shows, ministers of Word and Sacrament have been entrusted with Christ’s mission, and they have been given his Spirit to carry it out. Their mission is to redeem the fallen world not with the wisdom of men, but with a message. What does that message entail? Two related things: the forgiveness and the retention of sins. Like their forbears, modern-day apostles carry a twofold message: “Repent, and believe the good news.” In other words, turn away from false gods, and turn to the merciful lordship of Jesus Christ. That’s the basic message. The first part retains sins, the second forgives the repentant sinner. It is both Law and Gospel, and it both kills the old Adam and gives birth to the new Christ.
It’s worth noting that when the Law is preached, the Christian preacher’s definition of sin is not up to his discretion. An example of such an abuse of the preacher’s office: “I love the environment, so I’m going to tell SUV drivers to repent.” Or, “Gee, according to God’s Word that man is committing a sin, but I don’t want to hurt his feelings. I’ll just stay quiet.” Put simply, sin is not that which the preacher doesn’t like. Rather, it is that which God’s Law proscribes, whether we like it or not.
Finally, by what means is the preacher’s task accomplished? With the proclaimed Word of God, and by the power of the Holy Spirit. The task of the Christian preacher is to speak the Word in its twofold form, and pray that the Spirit will do his salvific work. The preacher cannot ensure that the message will be received. His task is faithfulness to the Word, while the power of conversion belongs to the domain of the Holy Spirit. As it is written, “I planted, Apollos watered, but God gave the growth.” (1 Corinthians 3:6) (Of course, if one’s proclamation of the Word never bears fruit, then he ought to consider why. Perhaps he’s not proclaiming the same Word to which the Spirit lends his power.)
So those are my somewhat-random thoughts. I’ll conclude with what I find to be the best description of Christ’s apostles, both 2,000 years ago and today: “Think of us in this way, as servants of Christ and stewards of God’s mysteries.” (1 Corinthians 4:1)
1. “If I proclaim the Gospel, this gives me no ground for boasting, for an obligation is laid on me, and woe to me if I do not proclaim the Gospel!” (1 Corinthians 9:16)
Those are the words of the apostle Paul, but I would venture to say that many people count them as their own. I was converted to faith in Christ by a sermon I heard in high school, and so preaching is something about which I care deeply.
Nevertheless, I have to admit that it’s far easier to speak the Gospel from the pulpit than it is in less-structured settings. The true mettle of faith is demonstrated by those who speak the Word of God in a situation that doesn’t naturally welcome it. Those without such boldness would do well to remember – and would do even better to believe – Jesus’ words: “Everyone who acknowledges me before others, the Son of Man also will acknowledge before the angels of God; but whoever denies me before others will be denied before the angels of God.” (Luke 12:8-9)
Indeed, “woe to me if I do not proclaim the Gospel!”
2. “Do not ordain anyone hastily…” (1 Timothy 5:22)
Ordination is not a right. (It is a rite, but that’s different.) Thus, it is not open to anyone who desires it or even to anyone who thinks God has called him to Word and Sacrament ministry. Assuming that the gifts for ministry are gifts of the Holy Spirit, and assuming that the Church is led by that same Holy Spirit, then the gifts must be recognized and validated by the Church.
Of course, this gets increasingly easier for me to say as I approach ordination. Still, the point stands: “Do not ordain anyone hastily…” The logical flip-side of that is this: If you believe that God has given you a particular gift for the sake of edifying his Church, then submit that belief and that gift to the Church for her Spirit-led determination. (Yes, this gets a lot more complicated by the fact that many “churches” are led by a different spirit than the Holy Spirit, but I’m not even going to try to solve that problem here.)
3. “Jesus said to them again, ‘Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you.’ When he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, ‘Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained.’” (John 20:21-23)
As the above quote shows, ministers of Word and Sacrament have been entrusted with Christ’s mission, and they have been given his Spirit to carry it out. Their mission is to redeem the fallen world not with the wisdom of men, but with a message. What does that message entail? Two related things: the forgiveness and the retention of sins. Like their forbears, modern-day apostles carry a twofold message: “Repent, and believe the good news.” In other words, turn away from false gods, and turn to the merciful lordship of Jesus Christ. That’s the basic message. The first part retains sins, the second forgives the repentant sinner. It is both Law and Gospel, and it both kills the old Adam and gives birth to the new Christ.
It’s worth noting that when the Law is preached, the Christian preacher’s definition of sin is not up to his discretion. An example of such an abuse of the preacher’s office: “I love the environment, so I’m going to tell SUV drivers to repent.” Or, “Gee, according to God’s Word that man is committing a sin, but I don’t want to hurt his feelings. I’ll just stay quiet.” Put simply, sin is not that which the preacher doesn’t like. Rather, it is that which God’s Law proscribes, whether we like it or not.
Finally, by what means is the preacher’s task accomplished? With the proclaimed Word of God, and by the power of the Holy Spirit. The task of the Christian preacher is to speak the Word in its twofold form, and pray that the Spirit will do his salvific work. The preacher cannot ensure that the message will be received. His task is faithfulness to the Word, while the power of conversion belongs to the domain of the Holy Spirit. As it is written, “I planted, Apollos watered, but God gave the growth.” (1 Corinthians 3:6) (Of course, if one’s proclamation of the Word never bears fruit, then he ought to consider why. Perhaps he’s not proclaiming the same Word to which the Spirit lends his power.)
So those are my somewhat-random thoughts. I’ll conclude with what I find to be the best description of Christ’s apostles, both 2,000 years ago and today: “Think of us in this way, as servants of Christ and stewards of God’s mysteries.” (1 Corinthians 4:1)
Friday, October 7, 2011
Faithless Preaching
This Sunday, Saint John’s (my church for internship) begins a three-week sermon series on stewardship. Thinking about the Church’s message in relation to stewardship, I’ve been fighting a peculiar temptation. That temptation is to turn the gospel into a petty how-to speech.
Let me explain. Throughout the New Testament, the Christian message has two parts: (1) repent, and (2) believe. That’s the Christian life in a nutshell: (1) turning away from false gods, and (2) falling into the mercy and lordship of Jesus Christ, the Son of the one true God. And so the twofold Christian message functions both to kill the old Adam and to bring forth the new Christ.
But what does this mean for a sermon on stewardship? It’s tempting to change the Christian message from, “The Kingdom of Heaven is at hand. Repent, and believe the good news,” to, “The Kingdom of Heaven needs to be built by you. Repent, and be a good steward.” I’ve heard such sermons before, and they usually conclude with some sort of petty instruction that aligns with the given preacher’s personality traits or political leanings.
Of course, this is nothing but being “ashamed of the gospel.” It is faithless preaching, and it’s rooted in disbelief that the gospel of Christ is “the power of God for salvation to everyone who has faith.” (Romans 1:16) Ultimately, faithless preaching knows neither the depth of sin nor the power of God. The problem of sin is not just that we do the wrong things, but that we trust in false gods.
Hence, the Christian message – even and especially in relation to stewardship – is not, “Repent, and do this or do that with your time, talents, and money.” Rather, it is always, “Repent, and believe the good news.” Yes, that message unfolds in ways that shape our lives and make us faithful stewards of God’s gifts. (We cannot say, “I believe,” as we persist in sin.) Nevertheless, the Church’s proclamation is not fundamentally about the things that we do, but about the One we believe in and what He has done.
Let me explain. Throughout the New Testament, the Christian message has two parts: (1) repent, and (2) believe. That’s the Christian life in a nutshell: (1) turning away from false gods, and (2) falling into the mercy and lordship of Jesus Christ, the Son of the one true God. And so the twofold Christian message functions both to kill the old Adam and to bring forth the new Christ.
But what does this mean for a sermon on stewardship? It’s tempting to change the Christian message from, “The Kingdom of Heaven is at hand. Repent, and believe the good news,” to, “The Kingdom of Heaven needs to be built by you. Repent, and be a good steward.” I’ve heard such sermons before, and they usually conclude with some sort of petty instruction that aligns with the given preacher’s personality traits or political leanings.
Of course, this is nothing but being “ashamed of the gospel.” It is faithless preaching, and it’s rooted in disbelief that the gospel of Christ is “the power of God for salvation to everyone who has faith.” (Romans 1:16) Ultimately, faithless preaching knows neither the depth of sin nor the power of God. The problem of sin is not just that we do the wrong things, but that we trust in false gods.
Hence, the Christian message – even and especially in relation to stewardship – is not, “Repent, and do this or do that with your time, talents, and money.” Rather, it is always, “Repent, and believe the good news.” Yes, that message unfolds in ways that shape our lives and make us faithful stewards of God’s gifts. (We cannot say, “I believe,” as we persist in sin.) Nevertheless, the Church’s proclamation is not fundamentally about the things that we do, but about the One we believe in and what He has done.
Friday, September 23, 2011
Who Ruined Paradise?
This week, a boy in youth group asked whose fault it is that we’ve been “kicked out” from the Garden of Eden: Adam or Eve? He was trying to spark a debate between the girls and guys, but his question is more important than he perhaps realized. His question, in fact, is determinative of how one goes through life.
Who’s to blame for ruining Paradise? This question has hung over the head of humanity ever since Adam and Eve ate from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. Adam blamed Eve; Eve blamed the serpent. You could say that the rest of human history is marked by this same blame-game. Cain blamed Abel; David (seeing Bathsheba as his ticket to Paradise) blamed Uriah; Herod (eyes set on his brother’s wife) blamed John the Baptist.
For more recent examples, you could say that Hitler blamed those with so-called “bad genes” (namely the Jews); Marx blamed capitalists and Christians (if it weren’t for them, Utopia!). Even today, conservatives and liberals, natives and immigrants, neat folks and messy folks, husbands and wives…all playing the blame-game, accusing one another for the ruination of Paradise.
The problem? The blame-game is nothing other than continuing to eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. The desire to be like God by knowing good and evil is the same desire that led Adam and Eve to their expulsion from Eden. To keep asking that question and to keep looking for someone to accuse is to add sin upon sin upon sin.
Ultimately, the blame-game has led to the crucifixion of Christ. Everyone’s been looking for a scapegoat – someone to blame for all of life’s ills – and Jesus Christ has offered himself as that scapegoat. The righteous One has taken the place of the guilty. This is the end of the blame-game, for Christ has refused to eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, and he has become the sacrifice for sins for which everyone’s been searching. So who’s to blame for the loss of Eden? Christ’s answer: Blame me.
The fact that the One who is blameless has said “Blame me” is a call to stop accusing, gossiping, backbiting, etc., and to admit that we’ve been eating forbidden fruit. And so the Christian answer to the question “Who’s to blame?” is no different than Christ’s answer: Blame me. I once was blindly playing the blame-game, but now I see that my sin is a log in comparison to my neighbor’s sin, which is only a speck. (Matthew 7:4)
The good news? The sinner who quits the blame-game and empties himself of his claim to righteousness finds himself in the company of Christ. Furthermore, this same Christ, who emptied himself of his righteousness and humbly took the form of a slave, has been exalted into the new Eden. (Philippians 2:7, 9) In his exaltation, the humble are glorified, the sinners are made righteous, and fallen humanity is returned into the presence of God. To put it differently, the blame-game has been put to rest, and the tree of the knowledge of good and evil has been supplanted by the Tree of Life: Christ himself.
Who’s to blame for ruining Paradise? This question has hung over the head of humanity ever since Adam and Eve ate from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. Adam blamed Eve; Eve blamed the serpent. You could say that the rest of human history is marked by this same blame-game. Cain blamed Abel; David (seeing Bathsheba as his ticket to Paradise) blamed Uriah; Herod (eyes set on his brother’s wife) blamed John the Baptist.
For more recent examples, you could say that Hitler blamed those with so-called “bad genes” (namely the Jews); Marx blamed capitalists and Christians (if it weren’t for them, Utopia!). Even today, conservatives and liberals, natives and immigrants, neat folks and messy folks, husbands and wives…all playing the blame-game, accusing one another for the ruination of Paradise.
The problem? The blame-game is nothing other than continuing to eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. The desire to be like God by knowing good and evil is the same desire that led Adam and Eve to their expulsion from Eden. To keep asking that question and to keep looking for someone to accuse is to add sin upon sin upon sin.
Ultimately, the blame-game has led to the crucifixion of Christ. Everyone’s been looking for a scapegoat – someone to blame for all of life’s ills – and Jesus Christ has offered himself as that scapegoat. The righteous One has taken the place of the guilty. This is the end of the blame-game, for Christ has refused to eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, and he has become the sacrifice for sins for which everyone’s been searching. So who’s to blame for the loss of Eden? Christ’s answer: Blame me.
The fact that the One who is blameless has said “Blame me” is a call to stop accusing, gossiping, backbiting, etc., and to admit that we’ve been eating forbidden fruit. And so the Christian answer to the question “Who’s to blame?” is no different than Christ’s answer: Blame me. I once was blindly playing the blame-game, but now I see that my sin is a log in comparison to my neighbor’s sin, which is only a speck. (Matthew 7:4)
The good news? The sinner who quits the blame-game and empties himself of his claim to righteousness finds himself in the company of Christ. Furthermore, this same Christ, who emptied himself of his righteousness and humbly took the form of a slave, has been exalted into the new Eden. (Philippians 2:7, 9) In his exaltation, the humble are glorified, the sinners are made righteous, and fallen humanity is returned into the presence of God. To put it differently, the blame-game has been put to rest, and the tree of the knowledge of good and evil has been supplanted by the Tree of Life: Christ himself.
Friday, September 16, 2011
Hollow Knowledge, Living Faith
In January I wrote about the sin of those who are “always being instructed and can never arrive at a knowledge of the truth.” (2 Timothy 3:7) I noted that although the effort to understand the Christian faith can be a good and enjoyable activity of the mind, it becomes a sin when it's used as an excuse for distrust and disobedience.
Rather than living the life of faith, one who falls into this trap turns Christianity into nothing more than learning about the faith. Thus, a “Christian” is one who hears about God’s will but never does anything about it. The problem with that? “It is not the hearers of the law who are righteous in God’s sight, but the doers of the law who will be justified.” (Romans 2:13)
I’m bringing this up again for two reasons. First, this is an ongoing temptation for Christians, especially among those who are even moderately intelligent. A hollow knowledge that doesn’t touch our will is far safer than a living relationship with a jealous God. (Exodus 20:5)
The second reason I bring this up is that I recently read something that’s helped to sharpen my thinking on the matter. Francis de Sales’ Treatise on the Love of God makes it a point to distinguish living faith from hollow knowledge. Although the two are easily confused, there is a clear distinguishing mark between them: love.
Both knowledge and faith can seem to elevate a man above his natural self (what de Sales calls an “ecstatic experience”), but only true faith issues forth in love. The heart that rests in God’s love – that is, the heart that receives the gift of Christ – is itself moved to love. To put it another way, the heart that truly believes in God’s promise will become a patient heart, and it will practice kindness. (1 Corinthians 13:4)
Because the allure of hollow knowledge is ongoing, I think it’s a good practice to recall continually that love is always present when there is true faith. De Sales’ words about such faith – faith in the God who speaks to us by his Word, rather than faith in knowledge about him – are salutary:
“Sacred ecstasy never so much takes and affects the understanding as it does the will, which it moves, warms and fills with a powerful affection towards God. So that, if the ecstasy be more beautiful than good, more bright than warm, more speculative than affective, it is very doubtful, and deserving of suspicion…He who in his rapture has more light in the understanding to admire God, than heat in the will to love him, is to stand upon his guard; for it is to be feared that this ecstasy may be false, and may rather puff up the spirit than edify it.”
Rather than living the life of faith, one who falls into this trap turns Christianity into nothing more than learning about the faith. Thus, a “Christian” is one who hears about God’s will but never does anything about it. The problem with that? “It is not the hearers of the law who are righteous in God’s sight, but the doers of the law who will be justified.” (Romans 2:13)
I’m bringing this up again for two reasons. First, this is an ongoing temptation for Christians, especially among those who are even moderately intelligent. A hollow knowledge that doesn’t touch our will is far safer than a living relationship with a jealous God. (Exodus 20:5)
The second reason I bring this up is that I recently read something that’s helped to sharpen my thinking on the matter. Francis de Sales’ Treatise on the Love of God makes it a point to distinguish living faith from hollow knowledge. Although the two are easily confused, there is a clear distinguishing mark between them: love.
Both knowledge and faith can seem to elevate a man above his natural self (what de Sales calls an “ecstatic experience”), but only true faith issues forth in love. The heart that rests in God’s love – that is, the heart that receives the gift of Christ – is itself moved to love. To put it another way, the heart that truly believes in God’s promise will become a patient heart, and it will practice kindness. (1 Corinthians 13:4)
Because the allure of hollow knowledge is ongoing, I think it’s a good practice to recall continually that love is always present when there is true faith. De Sales’ words about such faith – faith in the God who speaks to us by his Word, rather than faith in knowledge about him – are salutary:
“Sacred ecstasy never so much takes and affects the understanding as it does the will, which it moves, warms and fills with a powerful affection towards God. So that, if the ecstasy be more beautiful than good, more bright than warm, more speculative than affective, it is very doubtful, and deserving of suspicion…He who in his rapture has more light in the understanding to admire God, than heat in the will to love him, is to stand upon his guard; for it is to be feared that this ecstasy may be false, and may rather puff up the spirit than edify it.”
Thursday, September 8, 2011
On Being Joseph's Brothers
The story of Joseph has been on my mind lately, since the conclusion of that story (Genesis 50:15-21) is the first Scripture reading in a lot of churches this Sunday. I have to admit that Joseph’s story is one of my favorites, largely because his life points so clearly to Jesus Christ. As I’ve been thinking about how Joseph prefigures Christ, I’ve jotted down a few parallels.
1. Joseph was to reign over his brothers, but this offended them and so they handed him over to a foreign people. Jesus Christ also came to reign over his Jewish brothers, but they were offended by him and so they handed him over to a foreign people. And even now, when the Spirit of Christ comes to reign over us, the continual temptation is to be offended and to reject his reign. It is a reign of grace and mercy, but no matter: to the eyes of the flesh, we see only tyranny and joylessness.
2. Despite the rejection and the sins committed against him, Joseph remained steadfast in the truth and God raised him to power. Just so, despite humanity’s rejection, Jesus Christ continued to “testify to the truth.” (John 18:27) Also, God has raised him to his right hand, giving him all authority in heaven and on earth. (Matthew 28:18) This is how God’s providence works: it brings good out of evil, and life out of death.
3. Joseph’s brothers were hit by a famine, but Joseph – because God had raised him to power – was able to save them. God had taken their rejection of Joseph and used it to provide them with a source of life. Just so, I’m convinced that the rejection of Christ leads to a famine. That is, our souls were made to feed on the Word of God, and Jesus is that Word. We go hungry without him, but God has taken Jesus' rejection and used it to provide us with the Bread of Life. For that reason, “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.” (Matthew 5:6)
If these parallels hold true, then we are Joseph’s brothers, and Jesus Christ is the true Joseph. What does this mean? It means that we come to Christ just as Joseph’s brothers came to Joseph. Specifically, we come to Christ as those who have rejected him, are now suffering a famine, and need what only he can give. The actions and words of Joseph’s brothers are to be our actions and words: “Please forgive the crime of the servants of the God of your Father.” And then, weeping, they “fell down before him, and said, ‘We are here as your slaves.’” (Genesis 50:17, 18)
Most wonderfully, these parallels also mean that Joseph’s words to his brothers are Christ’s words to his: “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. So have no fear; I myself will provide for you and your little ones.” (Genesis 50:19-21) Being Joseph’s brothers – being those who have rejected Christ – might seem like bad news. However, because God’s providence brings good out of evil, and because Jesus Christ – the true Joseph – is merciful, such bad news is in fact the Gospel.
1. Joseph was to reign over his brothers, but this offended them and so they handed him over to a foreign people. Jesus Christ also came to reign over his Jewish brothers, but they were offended by him and so they handed him over to a foreign people. And even now, when the Spirit of Christ comes to reign over us, the continual temptation is to be offended and to reject his reign. It is a reign of grace and mercy, but no matter: to the eyes of the flesh, we see only tyranny and joylessness.
2. Despite the rejection and the sins committed against him, Joseph remained steadfast in the truth and God raised him to power. Just so, despite humanity’s rejection, Jesus Christ continued to “testify to the truth.” (John 18:27) Also, God has raised him to his right hand, giving him all authority in heaven and on earth. (Matthew 28:18) This is how God’s providence works: it brings good out of evil, and life out of death.
3. Joseph’s brothers were hit by a famine, but Joseph – because God had raised him to power – was able to save them. God had taken their rejection of Joseph and used it to provide them with a source of life. Just so, I’m convinced that the rejection of Christ leads to a famine. That is, our souls were made to feed on the Word of God, and Jesus is that Word. We go hungry without him, but God has taken Jesus' rejection and used it to provide us with the Bread of Life. For that reason, “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.” (Matthew 5:6)
If these parallels hold true, then we are Joseph’s brothers, and Jesus Christ is the true Joseph. What does this mean? It means that we come to Christ just as Joseph’s brothers came to Joseph. Specifically, we come to Christ as those who have rejected him, are now suffering a famine, and need what only he can give. The actions and words of Joseph’s brothers are to be our actions and words: “Please forgive the crime of the servants of the God of your Father.” And then, weeping, they “fell down before him, and said, ‘We are here as your slaves.’” (Genesis 50:17, 18)
Most wonderfully, these parallels also mean that Joseph’s words to his brothers are Christ’s words to his: “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. So have no fear; I myself will provide for you and your little ones.” (Genesis 50:19-21) Being Joseph’s brothers – being those who have rejected Christ – might seem like bad news. However, because God’s providence brings good out of evil, and because Jesus Christ – the true Joseph – is merciful, such bad news is in fact the Gospel.
Thursday, September 1, 2011
A Christian Word About Labor Day
Labor Day isn’t exactly the most meaningful holiday on the calendar. I would venture to say that most people view Labor Day as little more than a nice day off that marks the end of summer vacation. I have no desire to change this view (I subscribe to it myself), and yet I think Labor Day affords the Church an opportunity to say something meaningful about human work.
There’s a tendency to think of work as a necessary evil. This notion is not without basis in reality: most work, even that which is initially exciting and glamorous, becomes quite ordinary and even tedious when done for an extended period. This tediousness often gives rise to the (religious) division of work into two categories: sacred and profane.
The former category consists of work that’s expressly religious. Sometimes this is church-related work. However, in a largely secular society, the sacred category often entails some type of social service. Thus, jobs like nursing or teaching often fall into the sacred category. Meanwhile, the profane category consists of tasks that carry no outwardly religious association, say accounting or plumbing. (Of course, in a society whose god is money or running water, accounting and plumbing may fall into the sacred category. The categorization depends on the god.)
Why does any of this matter? It matters because such categorizing of work is abolished in the person and work of Christ. Said differently, the distinction between the sacred and profane – just like the distinction between the Jew and Gentile – is broken down in Jesus. (Cf. Ephesians 2:14-16) Therefore, it is a sin to maintain that these categorizations carry ultimate significance and affect our standing before God. Apart from Christ, all work is meaningless. (Cf. Ecclesiastes) But in Him, human labor is made good and holy.
Nowhere is this more evident than in Acts 10, wherein God shows Peter that the profane centurion Cornelius has been sanctified in Christ: “What God has made clean, you must not call profane.” (Acts 10:15) Although this speaks of a profane person being sanctified, the same lesson applies to profane work. That is, the ordinary tasks of human life are made holy in Christ. Insofar as work is done in the grace of Christ – done in the Way of faith, hope, and love – it is lifted up into the realm of the holy. Sanctified work might look no different than unsanctified work, but indeed it tastes completely different to our souls.
The sanctification of ordinary work is a fundamental aspect of Christ’s redemption of this world. However, that doesn’t mean that every human work is redeemed. There’s an ancient Church teaching that whatever the eternal Son of God did not assume (take upon himself) in the incarnation is not redeemed. Christ assumed all of human nature, but he did not assume sin, which is foreign to human nature. Therefore, work which is sinful (done contrary to God's commandments) is not redeemed and remains unholy.
More importantly, Christ's redemption of the world means that ordinary work, done according to the will and in the grace of God, is no longer ordinary. Our daily tasks are holy tasks. Even and especially everyday things like sweeping a floor, balancing a spreadsheet, or changing a baby’s diaper: done in Christ – done in the Way of faith, hope, and love – this is sacred work. And so this Labor Day weekend, the lesson of Acts 10:15 is worth repeating: “What God has made clean, you must not call profane.”
There’s a tendency to think of work as a necessary evil. This notion is not without basis in reality: most work, even that which is initially exciting and glamorous, becomes quite ordinary and even tedious when done for an extended period. This tediousness often gives rise to the (religious) division of work into two categories: sacred and profane.
The former category consists of work that’s expressly religious. Sometimes this is church-related work. However, in a largely secular society, the sacred category often entails some type of social service. Thus, jobs like nursing or teaching often fall into the sacred category. Meanwhile, the profane category consists of tasks that carry no outwardly religious association, say accounting or plumbing. (Of course, in a society whose god is money or running water, accounting and plumbing may fall into the sacred category. The categorization depends on the god.)
Why does any of this matter? It matters because such categorizing of work is abolished in the person and work of Christ. Said differently, the distinction between the sacred and profane – just like the distinction between the Jew and Gentile – is broken down in Jesus. (Cf. Ephesians 2:14-16) Therefore, it is a sin to maintain that these categorizations carry ultimate significance and affect our standing before God. Apart from Christ, all work is meaningless. (Cf. Ecclesiastes) But in Him, human labor is made good and holy.
Nowhere is this more evident than in Acts 10, wherein God shows Peter that the profane centurion Cornelius has been sanctified in Christ: “What God has made clean, you must not call profane.” (Acts 10:15) Although this speaks of a profane person being sanctified, the same lesson applies to profane work. That is, the ordinary tasks of human life are made holy in Christ. Insofar as work is done in the grace of Christ – done in the Way of faith, hope, and love – it is lifted up into the realm of the holy. Sanctified work might look no different than unsanctified work, but indeed it tastes completely different to our souls.
The sanctification of ordinary work is a fundamental aspect of Christ’s redemption of this world. However, that doesn’t mean that every human work is redeemed. There’s an ancient Church teaching that whatever the eternal Son of God did not assume (take upon himself) in the incarnation is not redeemed. Christ assumed all of human nature, but he did not assume sin, which is foreign to human nature. Therefore, work which is sinful (done contrary to God's commandments) is not redeemed and remains unholy.
More importantly, Christ's redemption of the world means that ordinary work, done according to the will and in the grace of God, is no longer ordinary. Our daily tasks are holy tasks. Even and especially everyday things like sweeping a floor, balancing a spreadsheet, or changing a baby’s diaper: done in Christ – done in the Way of faith, hope, and love – this is sacred work. And so this Labor Day weekend, the lesson of Acts 10:15 is worth repeating: “What God has made clean, you must not call profane.”
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Rebuking Jesus
This Sunday, churches that follow the Revised Common Lectionary will read Matthew 16:21-28. It’s in that reading that Peter rebukes Jesus for saying that he’s about to go to Jerusalem to suffer, be killed, and (!) be raised. Right before this, Peter had confessed that Jesus is “the Christ, the Son of the living God.” But now, as Jesus begins to show what kind of Christ he is, Peter takes him aside and rebukes him: “God forbid it, Lord! This must never happen to you.”
My question: Does this same thing still happen? My answer: yes, in two ways. First, the church rebukes Jesus whenever she proclaims not the crucified Christ, but some other Christ who makes us successful or secure. Today’s preachers are descended from the original twelve apostles, and they have the same temptation into which Peter fell. That is, the ongoing temptation is to say that Jesus is the Christ, but then to prevent him from defining what kind of Christ he is.
The real Christ is the One who patiently bears the burdens of others and calls his followers to do the same. He’s the King whose Kingdom is not of this world and whose throne is the cross. If and when a preacher proclaims some other Christ, he is essentially taking Jesus aside, out of the sight of the people, and rebuking him. I’ve heard this done in a number of ways, but they all seem to have something in common: a false Christ who endorses our self-chosen plans and supports our self-chosen causes.
That’s the first way Jesus continues to be rebuked. The second is more hidden, for it happens within the private life of the individual. It happens whenever we refuse Jesus’ call to drop worldly security and cling only to him. It happens whenever we don’t love one another – even and especially our enemies – with patience and kindness. And finally, it happens when we live with a smugness that refuses to confess its sin and looks down on others with arrogance. What makes it worse is that we do it – just like Peter – while saying with our lips that Jesus is the Christ.
Jesus’ response to all of this: “Get behind me, Satan!” Those aren’t nice words, but they can be saving words to the one who heeds them. Insofar as those who have sinned by rebuking Jesus will admit their error, they can fall in behind the true Christ. The confession of sin – not just in words, but also in spirit and in truth – is the core of Christian self-denial and suffering, and it's absolutely necessary to following Jesus.
This might seem like bad news, but it’s bad news only to the old Adam of the flesh. To the new Spirit of Christ living within, self-denial and suffering for the sake of Jesus is in fact good news. It’s good news (“gospel”) because the crucified Christ is also the risen Christ. Peter, when he rebuked Jesus, didn’t even seem to notice that Jesus said he would “on the third day be raised.” Peter was so taken aback by the suffering part that he couldn’t even hear the promise of new life that followed. He was “setting (his) mind not on divine things but on human things.” (Matthew 16:23)
So yes, there is bad news for the old Adam, but there is also good news for the new Spirit of Christ. We don’t get one bit of news without the other, since we are just like Peter: the Christ has come among us, but the old Adam is still alive and we're still tempted to be “Christian” only in name. Our flesh is tempted to rebuke Jesus for not being the kind of Christ we want him to be, but the Spirit knows that he's the only Christ worth having. We’re a twofold people, and so Jesus’ message for us is twofold: “Those who want to save their soul will lose it, and those who lose their soul for my sake will find it.” (Matthew 16:25)
My question: Does this same thing still happen? My answer: yes, in two ways. First, the church rebukes Jesus whenever she proclaims not the crucified Christ, but some other Christ who makes us successful or secure. Today’s preachers are descended from the original twelve apostles, and they have the same temptation into which Peter fell. That is, the ongoing temptation is to say that Jesus is the Christ, but then to prevent him from defining what kind of Christ he is.
The real Christ is the One who patiently bears the burdens of others and calls his followers to do the same. He’s the King whose Kingdom is not of this world and whose throne is the cross. If and when a preacher proclaims some other Christ, he is essentially taking Jesus aside, out of the sight of the people, and rebuking him. I’ve heard this done in a number of ways, but they all seem to have something in common: a false Christ who endorses our self-chosen plans and supports our self-chosen causes.
That’s the first way Jesus continues to be rebuked. The second is more hidden, for it happens within the private life of the individual. It happens whenever we refuse Jesus’ call to drop worldly security and cling only to him. It happens whenever we don’t love one another – even and especially our enemies – with patience and kindness. And finally, it happens when we live with a smugness that refuses to confess its sin and looks down on others with arrogance. What makes it worse is that we do it – just like Peter – while saying with our lips that Jesus is the Christ.
Jesus’ response to all of this: “Get behind me, Satan!” Those aren’t nice words, but they can be saving words to the one who heeds them. Insofar as those who have sinned by rebuking Jesus will admit their error, they can fall in behind the true Christ. The confession of sin – not just in words, but also in spirit and in truth – is the core of Christian self-denial and suffering, and it's absolutely necessary to following Jesus.
This might seem like bad news, but it’s bad news only to the old Adam of the flesh. To the new Spirit of Christ living within, self-denial and suffering for the sake of Jesus is in fact good news. It’s good news (“gospel”) because the crucified Christ is also the risen Christ. Peter, when he rebuked Jesus, didn’t even seem to notice that Jesus said he would “on the third day be raised.” Peter was so taken aback by the suffering part that he couldn’t even hear the promise of new life that followed. He was “setting (his) mind not on divine things but on human things.” (Matthew 16:23)
So yes, there is bad news for the old Adam, but there is also good news for the new Spirit of Christ. We don’t get one bit of news without the other, since we are just like Peter: the Christ has come among us, but the old Adam is still alive and we're still tempted to be “Christian” only in name. Our flesh is tempted to rebuke Jesus for not being the kind of Christ we want him to be, but the Spirit knows that he's the only Christ worth having. We’re a twofold people, and so Jesus’ message for us is twofold: “Those who want to save their soul will lose it, and those who lose their soul for my sake will find it.” (Matthew 16:25)
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
Hoarding the Manna
How are we to handle the gifts of God? This has been on my mind, if only because I just got back from a one-week family vacation in Palm Springs. Although the temperature in Palm Springs sometimes approaches that of Hades, I do believe that time spent with family can be a gift from the hand of God Himself. Psalm 133:1 puts it this way: “How very good and pleasant it is when kindred live together in unity.”
But again, how are we to handle God’s gifts? I ask this because I find myself wanting to go back to last week and re-receive God’s gift. What is one to do with this desire? Perhaps the clearest answer I’ve found is in Exodus 16, wherein God gives manna to ancient Israel as they move through the desert to the Promised Land. Before the manna is given, God and Moses instruct the people on how to receive it: “Gather as much of it as each of you needs…Let no one leave any of it over until morning.” (Exodus 16:16,19)
In short, God’s gift was to be received in proportion to each one’s needs, and it was not to be coveted or clung to. When Israel didn’t listen to God’s Word and tried to hoard the manna, “it bred worms and became foul.” (Exodus 16:20) This same lesson holds true today, yes? That is, if we try to hoard the gifts of God, do they not become rotten just like the manna did? Are not even our memories of good times spoiled by the covetous desire to recreate the past?
The enduring lesson: God’s gifts are not to be coveted and hoarded, but received with an open hand and a thankful heart. (“The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord.” Job 1:21) This is because the gifts themselves – as nice as they are – are not primary. Rather, what’s primary is the Gift-Giver. The gifts are in fact signs that point beyond themselves to the One who gives them. Ultimately, God’s great desire is to give us not just His gifts, but Himself.
Jesus makes this quite clear in John 6. He feeds the crowd with five loaves and two fish, and later tells them, “You are looking for Me, not because you saw signs, but because you ate your fill of the loaves. Do not work for the food that perishes, but for the Food that endures for eternal life, which the Son of Man will give you.” So how are we to handle the gifts of God? The answer: receive them as good things that point beyond themselves to their Giver. Receive them according to God’s Word – that is, according to and in the Spirit of Jesus Christ. Said in a different way (but still the same Way), receive them in faith, hope, and love.
This puts the kibosh on coveting or hoarding. Can we really say that we have faith in God’s provision while we simultaneously hoard what He has provided? At their best, God’s gifts are signs of Something infinitely greater. It’s the Gift-Giver’s Son and Spirit who is the ultimate Gift, the One to be clung to and loved with our whole heart, soul, and mind. He promises to provide not just perishable things like manna and Palm Springs vacations, but the imperishable Bread of Life and eternal joy and rest in His Kingdom.
As a final and important note, the Gift of Christ doesn’t abolish the worldly and temporal gifts of God. Rather, insofar as we receive these things according to His Way and in His Spirit, He lifts them up into Heaven and Eternity – He redeems them – so that they can serve their proper function: pointing to the God who provides. For that reason, there is cause for hope that God's gifts (in this case, my family and my Palm Springs vacation) will be lifted up on that Last Day, and that I'll be able to enjoy them with a pure and perfect joy, basking in God's great blessing and praising His glory.
But again, how are we to handle God’s gifts? I ask this because I find myself wanting to go back to last week and re-receive God’s gift. What is one to do with this desire? Perhaps the clearest answer I’ve found is in Exodus 16, wherein God gives manna to ancient Israel as they move through the desert to the Promised Land. Before the manna is given, God and Moses instruct the people on how to receive it: “Gather as much of it as each of you needs…Let no one leave any of it over until morning.” (Exodus 16:16,19)
In short, God’s gift was to be received in proportion to each one’s needs, and it was not to be coveted or clung to. When Israel didn’t listen to God’s Word and tried to hoard the manna, “it bred worms and became foul.” (Exodus 16:20) This same lesson holds true today, yes? That is, if we try to hoard the gifts of God, do they not become rotten just like the manna did? Are not even our memories of good times spoiled by the covetous desire to recreate the past?
The enduring lesson: God’s gifts are not to be coveted and hoarded, but received with an open hand and a thankful heart. (“The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord.” Job 1:21) This is because the gifts themselves – as nice as they are – are not primary. Rather, what’s primary is the Gift-Giver. The gifts are in fact signs that point beyond themselves to the One who gives them. Ultimately, God’s great desire is to give us not just His gifts, but Himself.
Jesus makes this quite clear in John 6. He feeds the crowd with five loaves and two fish, and later tells them, “You are looking for Me, not because you saw signs, but because you ate your fill of the loaves. Do not work for the food that perishes, but for the Food that endures for eternal life, which the Son of Man will give you.” So how are we to handle the gifts of God? The answer: receive them as good things that point beyond themselves to their Giver. Receive them according to God’s Word – that is, according to and in the Spirit of Jesus Christ. Said in a different way (but still the same Way), receive them in faith, hope, and love.
This puts the kibosh on coveting or hoarding. Can we really say that we have faith in God’s provision while we simultaneously hoard what He has provided? At their best, God’s gifts are signs of Something infinitely greater. It’s the Gift-Giver’s Son and Spirit who is the ultimate Gift, the One to be clung to and loved with our whole heart, soul, and mind. He promises to provide not just perishable things like manna and Palm Springs vacations, but the imperishable Bread of Life and eternal joy and rest in His Kingdom.
As a final and important note, the Gift of Christ doesn’t abolish the worldly and temporal gifts of God. Rather, insofar as we receive these things according to His Way and in His Spirit, He lifts them up into Heaven and Eternity – He redeems them – so that they can serve their proper function: pointing to the God who provides. For that reason, there is cause for hope that God's gifts (in this case, my family and my Palm Springs vacation) will be lifted up on that Last Day, and that I'll be able to enjoy them with a pure and perfect joy, basking in God's great blessing and praising His glory.
Friday, August 5, 2011
A Few Good Books
Lately I've been staring at the books I've accumulated, thinking about which to keep and which to toss. Here are a few (in totally random order) that I'm definitely keeping and that I'd recommend to others:
The Book of Concord (Philip Melancthon, Martin Luther, Martin Chemnitz, and posse)
I received this as a Christmas gift from my mom in 2006. Fast-forward almost five years, and I’m now a Lutheran seminary student moving toward ordination to Word and sacrament ministry. Influential? Maybe a little. In addition to the change that this book has had on my life’s direction, it has deeply formed how I understand the Christian message. I’m convinced that it’s the best explication of what it means to worship God “in spirit and truth” (John 4:23) and for that reason I still read my Book of Concord daily. Yes, daily. My favorite parts: the Apology of the Augsburg Confession, the Large Catechism, and the Solid Declaration of the Formula of Concord.
Mere Christianity (C.S. Lewis)
I first came across C.S. Lewis after my freshman year of college, at a point when I was struggling to understand how my new life as a Christian could square with what I learned at a large, secular university. This book helped keep me in the faith, and the subsequent C.S. Lewis books that I read have formed the foundation of how I understand Christianity. (I’ve listed Mere Christianity rather than the many other books by Lewis that I love, simply because it was the first I read.) Lewis offers good, easy-to-follow reasoning to explain what Christianity means and how the Christian message stands up to secular criticism. In addition to being intellectually persuasive, his writings are deeply edifying to the soul. I’m very grateful for Lewis’ writings and, should I attain to the fullness of the Kingdom, I hope to thank him personally.
Epistle to the Romans (Karl Barth)
I first read this book during the summer before I entered seminary. It effectively removed any notion I had that “human having, doing, and being” (Barth’s own phrase) could be equated with the Kingdom of God. Thus, Barth has helped protect me from liberal Protestantism’s slide into mere worldliness. This book also has kept me from putting my hope in the things that I have and do in life. Such things, insofar as I put my hope in them, simply become another Tower of Babel. I'm thankful to Barth for this reminder. On a final note, re-reading this book kept me from atheism at a time when my faith was very much shaken by the writings of Friedrich Nietzsche and Ludwig Feuerbach. Epistle to the Romans is heavy reading, but well-worth the effort.
City of God (St. Augustine)
Although my first encounter with Augustine was via Confessions, City of God has had a greater impact on my thought. This is an enormous book, so I’ll note just one thing that really stuck with me. There’s a section in City of God in which Augustine goes through most of the Old Testament and identifies Jesus Christ in it. Most of my seminary professors don't like the fact that Jesus calls the Old Testament Scriptures “they that testify on my behalf.” (John 5:39) Thankfully, Augustine stepped in as my teacher so that I could learn to see Jesus throughout the Old Testament. (Example from City of God: At Abraham’s near-sacrifice of Isaac, the ram with its horns caught in the thicket prefigures Jesus Christ with the crown of thorns.) Ultimately, Augustine’s intent in this book is to demonstrate the categorical difference between the passing vanities of the “City of Man” and the eternal truth and blessedness of the “City of God”. Above I said that this book is enormous. That’s true, but perhaps “monumental” is more accurate.
The Brothers Karamazov (Fyodor Dostoevsky)
The only work of fiction I’ve listed, this book changed the way I think about the Church and her message. One thing in particular worth noting is the chapter on the Grand Inquisitor. To briefly summarize, the Church (via its head, the “Grand Inquisitor”) tells Jesus at his second-coming that he’s no longer needed. Referring to Jesus’ refusal to turn stones into bread, the Inquisitor tells Jesus, “Feed men, and then ask of them virtue!” I’m reminded of this whenever the Church tries to make her message fundamentally about bread and world-improvement. Also worth noting are the arguments of Ivan Karamazov against all attempts at theodicy. I have no answer to Ivan’s arguments, and I think the Church herself is dishonest when she tries to justify the existence of evil (especially by saying "it's God's will"). Thanks to The Brothers Karamazov, I’m convinced that the Christian faith is trust in God’s promise, even and especially when the evidence indicates that God’s will has been thwarted.
Jesus of Nazareth, Part I: From the Baptism in the Jordan to the Transfiguration; Part II: Holy Week (Pope Benedict XVI)
I read the first volume the year before I started seminary, and the second this past February. In addition to City of God, Jesus of Nazareth has been my teacher in how to interpret Scripture theologically (that is, with the eyes of faith and in obedience to the apostolic Church). What’s notable about Benedict is his ability to use historical critical methods while remaining committed to the historic Christian faith. The historical critical method can be a good tool in the effort to understand Scripture, but on its own it’s insufficient for answering the primary question of exegesis: What does this mean? Benedict is eager to use historical criticism, but he doesn’t stop there. He uses its findings in order to reflect more deeply on what the Gospel of Jesus Christ means for us. Even for those who have no interest in methods of biblical interpretation, Jesus of Nazareth is a great read. Benedict calls it his “personal search for the face of the Lord.” Readers of the book are blessed with the opportunity to join the Pope in this search.
Works of Love (Soren Kierkegaard)
I went through a Kierkegaard phase after college and read just about everything he wrote. This one in particular has stuck with me as his most edifying work. The book attends closely to 1 Corinthians 13 and the nature of Christian love. What I remember best is Kierkegaard’s insistence that there is no work or thing a man can do that can be definitively identified as Christian love. This goes along with 1 Corinthians 13:3: “If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing.” Wait a second…giving one’s possessions to the poor and giving one’s body over to hardship, aren’t these - in and of themselves - love? Nope. Works of Love etched in my mind what 1 Corinthians 13 had said already: There is no program for love.
Systematic Theology, Vol. 1: The Triune God; Vol. 2: The Works of God (Robert Jenson)
Jenson’s writing style is terse and I’ve heard some call him arrogant. Nevertheless, this two volume work remains the best systematic theology I’ve read. Jenson’s terseness has changed the way I think, emphasizing the power and importance of choosing the right words. Also, these books are in continual conversation with both (1) the apostolic Christian faith and (2) the various challenges presented to it over the course of its history. Jenson has a remarkable grasp of the history of human thought in general and Christian thought in particular. Moreover, this systematic theology uncovers new dimensions to human/Christian thought. On a final note, this is a very creative work of theological reflection. Perhaps the part I remember most is Jenson’s description of God as “a great fugue.” Why a fugue? Jenson: “There is nothing so capacious as a fugue.”
Prayer (Hans Urs Von Balthasar)
I’m a poor pray-er. Von Balthasar’s book has helped. Reading it convinced me that the entire Christian life is one long prayer of “thy will be done” to our Father in Heaven. In other words, this book doesn’t shirk form Paul’s admonition to “pray without ceasing.” (1 Thessalonians 5:17) Such prayer is the lifelong Christian endeavor, done not on one’s own but in the company of all the saints. It’s worth mentioning that this book also served as my introduction to the thought of Von Balthasar. His writings have been quite good for my soul. The primary emphasis of Von Balthasar’s thought is divine love: the love that we receive from God the Father through Christ and His Spirit, and the love we return to Him (in Christ and His Spirit) with thanksgiving that overflows to love of neighbor. For anyone who desires a better understanding of – and participation in – Christian prayer and the love that flows from it, I recommend this book.
So those are the ones I’m definitely keeping and that I would commend to anyone who desires to grow toward “the measure of the full stature of Christ.” (Ephesians 4:13) If you have recommendations for me, I’d love to hear them.
The Book of Concord (Philip Melancthon, Martin Luther, Martin Chemnitz, and posse)
I received this as a Christmas gift from my mom in 2006. Fast-forward almost five years, and I’m now a Lutheran seminary student moving toward ordination to Word and sacrament ministry. Influential? Maybe a little. In addition to the change that this book has had on my life’s direction, it has deeply formed how I understand the Christian message. I’m convinced that it’s the best explication of what it means to worship God “in spirit and truth” (John 4:23) and for that reason I still read my Book of Concord daily. Yes, daily. My favorite parts: the Apology of the Augsburg Confession, the Large Catechism, and the Solid Declaration of the Formula of Concord.
Mere Christianity (C.S. Lewis)
I first came across C.S. Lewis after my freshman year of college, at a point when I was struggling to understand how my new life as a Christian could square with what I learned at a large, secular university. This book helped keep me in the faith, and the subsequent C.S. Lewis books that I read have formed the foundation of how I understand Christianity. (I’ve listed Mere Christianity rather than the many other books by Lewis that I love, simply because it was the first I read.) Lewis offers good, easy-to-follow reasoning to explain what Christianity means and how the Christian message stands up to secular criticism. In addition to being intellectually persuasive, his writings are deeply edifying to the soul. I’m very grateful for Lewis’ writings and, should I attain to the fullness of the Kingdom, I hope to thank him personally.
Epistle to the Romans (Karl Barth)
I first read this book during the summer before I entered seminary. It effectively removed any notion I had that “human having, doing, and being” (Barth’s own phrase) could be equated with the Kingdom of God. Thus, Barth has helped protect me from liberal Protestantism’s slide into mere worldliness. This book also has kept me from putting my hope in the things that I have and do in life. Such things, insofar as I put my hope in them, simply become another Tower of Babel. I'm thankful to Barth for this reminder. On a final note, re-reading this book kept me from atheism at a time when my faith was very much shaken by the writings of Friedrich Nietzsche and Ludwig Feuerbach. Epistle to the Romans is heavy reading, but well-worth the effort.
City of God (St. Augustine)
Although my first encounter with Augustine was via Confessions, City of God has had a greater impact on my thought. This is an enormous book, so I’ll note just one thing that really stuck with me. There’s a section in City of God in which Augustine goes through most of the Old Testament and identifies Jesus Christ in it. Most of my seminary professors don't like the fact that Jesus calls the Old Testament Scriptures “they that testify on my behalf.” (John 5:39) Thankfully, Augustine stepped in as my teacher so that I could learn to see Jesus throughout the Old Testament. (Example from City of God: At Abraham’s near-sacrifice of Isaac, the ram with its horns caught in the thicket prefigures Jesus Christ with the crown of thorns.) Ultimately, Augustine’s intent in this book is to demonstrate the categorical difference between the passing vanities of the “City of Man” and the eternal truth and blessedness of the “City of God”. Above I said that this book is enormous. That’s true, but perhaps “monumental” is more accurate.
The Brothers Karamazov (Fyodor Dostoevsky)
The only work of fiction I’ve listed, this book changed the way I think about the Church and her message. One thing in particular worth noting is the chapter on the Grand Inquisitor. To briefly summarize, the Church (via its head, the “Grand Inquisitor”) tells Jesus at his second-coming that he’s no longer needed. Referring to Jesus’ refusal to turn stones into bread, the Inquisitor tells Jesus, “Feed men, and then ask of them virtue!” I’m reminded of this whenever the Church tries to make her message fundamentally about bread and world-improvement. Also worth noting are the arguments of Ivan Karamazov against all attempts at theodicy. I have no answer to Ivan’s arguments, and I think the Church herself is dishonest when she tries to justify the existence of evil (especially by saying "it's God's will"). Thanks to The Brothers Karamazov, I’m convinced that the Christian faith is trust in God’s promise, even and especially when the evidence indicates that God’s will has been thwarted.
Jesus of Nazareth, Part I: From the Baptism in the Jordan to the Transfiguration; Part II: Holy Week (Pope Benedict XVI)
I read the first volume the year before I started seminary, and the second this past February. In addition to City of God, Jesus of Nazareth has been my teacher in how to interpret Scripture theologically (that is, with the eyes of faith and in obedience to the apostolic Church). What’s notable about Benedict is his ability to use historical critical methods while remaining committed to the historic Christian faith. The historical critical method can be a good tool in the effort to understand Scripture, but on its own it’s insufficient for answering the primary question of exegesis: What does this mean? Benedict is eager to use historical criticism, but he doesn’t stop there. He uses its findings in order to reflect more deeply on what the Gospel of Jesus Christ means for us. Even for those who have no interest in methods of biblical interpretation, Jesus of Nazareth is a great read. Benedict calls it his “personal search for the face of the Lord.” Readers of the book are blessed with the opportunity to join the Pope in this search.
Works of Love (Soren Kierkegaard)
I went through a Kierkegaard phase after college and read just about everything he wrote. This one in particular has stuck with me as his most edifying work. The book attends closely to 1 Corinthians 13 and the nature of Christian love. What I remember best is Kierkegaard’s insistence that there is no work or thing a man can do that can be definitively identified as Christian love. This goes along with 1 Corinthians 13:3: “If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing.” Wait a second…giving one’s possessions to the poor and giving one’s body over to hardship, aren’t these - in and of themselves - love? Nope. Works of Love etched in my mind what 1 Corinthians 13 had said already: There is no program for love.
Systematic Theology, Vol. 1: The Triune God; Vol. 2: The Works of God (Robert Jenson)
Jenson’s writing style is terse and I’ve heard some call him arrogant. Nevertheless, this two volume work remains the best systematic theology I’ve read. Jenson’s terseness has changed the way I think, emphasizing the power and importance of choosing the right words. Also, these books are in continual conversation with both (1) the apostolic Christian faith and (2) the various challenges presented to it over the course of its history. Jenson has a remarkable grasp of the history of human thought in general and Christian thought in particular. Moreover, this systematic theology uncovers new dimensions to human/Christian thought. On a final note, this is a very creative work of theological reflection. Perhaps the part I remember most is Jenson’s description of God as “a great fugue.” Why a fugue? Jenson: “There is nothing so capacious as a fugue.”
Prayer (Hans Urs Von Balthasar)
I’m a poor pray-er. Von Balthasar’s book has helped. Reading it convinced me that the entire Christian life is one long prayer of “thy will be done” to our Father in Heaven. In other words, this book doesn’t shirk form Paul’s admonition to “pray without ceasing.” (1 Thessalonians 5:17) Such prayer is the lifelong Christian endeavor, done not on one’s own but in the company of all the saints. It’s worth mentioning that this book also served as my introduction to the thought of Von Balthasar. His writings have been quite good for my soul. The primary emphasis of Von Balthasar’s thought is divine love: the love that we receive from God the Father through Christ and His Spirit, and the love we return to Him (in Christ and His Spirit) with thanksgiving that overflows to love of neighbor. For anyone who desires a better understanding of – and participation in – Christian prayer and the love that flows from it, I recommend this book.
So those are the ones I’m definitely keeping and that I would commend to anyone who desires to grow toward “the measure of the full stature of Christ.” (Ephesians 4:13) If you have recommendations for me, I’d love to hear them.
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Five Loaves & Two Fish
The following is something I wrote this week while thinking about Matthew 14:13-21, which records Jesus' feeding of the five thousand in the desert with five loaves of bread and two fish.
What does it mean to follow Jesus into the desert? It is to leave Egypt, just as the Jews left Egypt and entered the desert. It is to leave behind false gods and false security (which is truly just slavery) in order to follow the one true God who leads his people through the desert in a cloud by day and a pillar of fire by night. (Ex. 13:21) It is to repent, for the Kingdom of God – in the very presence of this Jesus – is at hand. It is to open oneself to God in simple prayer, and it is to humble oneself with quiet almsgiving and unseen fasting. (Mat. 6) Summing it all up, it is to confess one’s sin and entrust oneself – with fear and trembling, but also with hope – to the mercy of God.
What happens in this desert of confession? Jesus sits us down on green grass. (Green grass in the desert: the miracle before the miracle!) He is, after all, the good shepherd (Jn. 10:11) who makes us to lie down in green pastures and prepares a table before us in the presence of our enemies.(Ps. 23:2, 5) The true enemies in this desert are trials and temptations, “for our struggle is not against enemies of blood and flesh…” (Eph. 6:12) The presence of such enemies in the desert of confession is ongoing. Nevertheless, Jesus feeds all five thousand of us not with meager rations but to the point of complete satisfaction: “All ate and were filled.” (Mat. 14:20)
He does this with five loaves of bread and two fish. Five loaves and two fish: What does this mean? The five loaves: the five books of Moses. The two fish: the Law and the Prophets. In the desert of confession, Jesus feeds us with the Word of God. Said differently, he feeds us with himself. (Jesus is the Word made flesh. Jn. 1) This is the new covenant, and Jesus writes God’s Word not on stone tablets but on human hearts (Jer. 31:33, 2 Cor. 3:3). He does this not because the crowd is full of swell people, but simply because “he saw the great crowd, and he had compassion for them.” (Mat. 14:14)
Twelve baskets are left over: plenty for the twelve disciples who have been called to feed the crowd with God’s Word. The twelve must feed a lot of people with this Word, but they don’t need to worry about whether there will be enough for them too. God's Word has not, and will not, run out. And perhaps the twelve baskets left over aren’t merely for the disciples, but for the totality of the twelve tribes of Israel. The point remains the same: the Word – that is, Jesus’ grace and mercy for those who have followed him into the desert of confession – will never run out, regardless of how many come to him with empty stomachs. It’s true: “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.” (Mat. 5:6)
That’s how it happened then, and that’s how it happens now. Five loaves and two fish: “All ate and were filled.” (Mat. 14:20)
What does it mean to follow Jesus into the desert? It is to leave Egypt, just as the Jews left Egypt and entered the desert. It is to leave behind false gods and false security (which is truly just slavery) in order to follow the one true God who leads his people through the desert in a cloud by day and a pillar of fire by night. (Ex. 13:21) It is to repent, for the Kingdom of God – in the very presence of this Jesus – is at hand. It is to open oneself to God in simple prayer, and it is to humble oneself with quiet almsgiving and unseen fasting. (Mat. 6) Summing it all up, it is to confess one’s sin and entrust oneself – with fear and trembling, but also with hope – to the mercy of God.
What happens in this desert of confession? Jesus sits us down on green grass. (Green grass in the desert: the miracle before the miracle!) He is, after all, the good shepherd (Jn. 10:11) who makes us to lie down in green pastures and prepares a table before us in the presence of our enemies.(Ps. 23:2, 5) The true enemies in this desert are trials and temptations, “for our struggle is not against enemies of blood and flesh…” (Eph. 6:12) The presence of such enemies in the desert of confession is ongoing. Nevertheless, Jesus feeds all five thousand of us not with meager rations but to the point of complete satisfaction: “All ate and were filled.” (Mat. 14:20)
He does this with five loaves of bread and two fish. Five loaves and two fish: What does this mean? The five loaves: the five books of Moses. The two fish: the Law and the Prophets. In the desert of confession, Jesus feeds us with the Word of God. Said differently, he feeds us with himself. (Jesus is the Word made flesh. Jn. 1) This is the new covenant, and Jesus writes God’s Word not on stone tablets but on human hearts (Jer. 31:33, 2 Cor. 3:3). He does this not because the crowd is full of swell people, but simply because “he saw the great crowd, and he had compassion for them.” (Mat. 14:14)
Twelve baskets are left over: plenty for the twelve disciples who have been called to feed the crowd with God’s Word. The twelve must feed a lot of people with this Word, but they don’t need to worry about whether there will be enough for them too. God's Word has not, and will not, run out. And perhaps the twelve baskets left over aren’t merely for the disciples, but for the totality of the twelve tribes of Israel. The point remains the same: the Word – that is, Jesus’ grace and mercy for those who have followed him into the desert of confession – will never run out, regardless of how many come to him with empty stomachs. It’s true: “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.” (Mat. 5:6)
That’s how it happened then, and that’s how it happens now. Five loaves and two fish: “All ate and were filled.” (Mat. 14:20)
Friday, July 22, 2011
The Pearl of Great Price
"Again, the Kingdom of Heaven is like a merchant seeking beautiful pearls, who, when he had found one pearl of great price, went and sold all that he had and bought it.” Matthew 13:45 (NKJV)
This Sunday’s gospel reading contains a number of parables about the Kingdom of Heaven. One of the better-known ones is the parable of the “Pearl of Great Price”, which is quoted above. (Thank you, NRSV, for changing the well-known translation and leaving us with the rather colorless “pearl of great value”.)
The most obvious lesson from Jesus’ parable is that obtaining the pearl of great price entails the soul’s surrender of all other things. In other words, those who would enter the Kingdom of Heaven are called to drop everything and follow Jesus. This shouldn’t come as a surprise, especially given the 1st and 9th/10th commandments: “You shall have no other gods before Me,” and, “You shall not covet.”
The main point of this post is to consider what it means to drop everything to follow Jesus, but it’s worth considering first what the Kingdom of Heaven is. To offer a simple definition, the Kingdom of Heaven is wherever and whenever God is King. This reign of God isn’t a “grit your teeth and do what you’re told” sort of reign. Rather, God’s reign has been definitively revealed in Jesus to be one of grace and mercy. Jesus is the One whose throne is the cross, and he reigns by humbly riding into our lives on a donkey and giving himself to us so that we’re remade into the people God created us to be.
That’s the Kingdom of Heaven, and this side of the resurrection our participation in it is weak and partial. (It gets stronger and fuller as we progress in sanctification.) It’s a Kingdom “not of this world” (John 18:36) and “now we see in a mirror, dimly.” (1 Cor. 13:12) Nevertheless, even the foretaste of the feast to come is pretty great, and there will be a Day when “we will see face to face.” (1 Cor. 13:12)
With that said, what does it mean to heed Jesus’ call to drop everything in order to have the one pearl of great price? One group in particular that has tried to imitate the merchant from the parable quite literally is those who have joined religious orders (i.e. friars, monks, nuns). Their vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience are an attempt to follow Jesus more closely by forgoing things (namely possessions, marriage, and autonomy) that can become hindrances to the life of discipleship.
I think Lutherans can learn a lot from those who have joined religious orders. However, the point I want to make here is that we stand to learn even more from Luther, who left his life as a friar and criticized the monastic institution of his day. Often Lutherans have interpreted this to mean that we need not give up anything to have Jesus as King in our lives. However, Luther’s point was precisely the opposite.
When Luther left his life as a friar, it wasn’t because he thought that he didn’t need to give up anything to follow Jesus. Rather, Luther rejected monasticism because monasticism itself had pretended to be God’s Kingdom on earth and, for that reason, it needed to be given up. In Luther’s time it was common to refer to monastic life as a “state of perfection”, which (mis)led people to believe that upon joining a monastery they would automatically find themselves in the Kingdom of God.
But Luther saw quite clearly that it was fully possible to drop some false gods upon joining the monastery, only to pick up other false gods peculiar to monastaic life. And perhaps the most subtle false gods that plague devout Christians are those of self-chosen religious works and self-achieved forms of righteousness. As soon as we begin to make the pearl of great price into something we can possess or achieve, then we lose the real pearl, which is the merciful reign of Jesus.
Luther left his life as a friar not because he thought that Jesus isn’t serious about dropping all of our false gods in order to follow him. He left his life as a friar because he knew that Jesus’ call meant dropping every single false god that there is, especially self-chosen religiosity and the claim that such “works” make one righteous before God.
So that's the lesson of the merchant and the pearl of great price. As evidenced by Luther, the call to drop everything and follow Jesus is an absolute call. It tears us away from clinging to even the finest pearls this world has to offer, and it removes every worldly ground of righteousness. However, it does so only in order to give us the one pearl of great price – Jesus – and the one sure ground of righteousness – his mercy.
This Sunday’s gospel reading contains a number of parables about the Kingdom of Heaven. One of the better-known ones is the parable of the “Pearl of Great Price”, which is quoted above. (Thank you, NRSV, for changing the well-known translation and leaving us with the rather colorless “pearl of great value”.)
The most obvious lesson from Jesus’ parable is that obtaining the pearl of great price entails the soul’s surrender of all other things. In other words, those who would enter the Kingdom of Heaven are called to drop everything and follow Jesus. This shouldn’t come as a surprise, especially given the 1st and 9th/10th commandments: “You shall have no other gods before Me,” and, “You shall not covet.”
The main point of this post is to consider what it means to drop everything to follow Jesus, but it’s worth considering first what the Kingdom of Heaven is. To offer a simple definition, the Kingdom of Heaven is wherever and whenever God is King. This reign of God isn’t a “grit your teeth and do what you’re told” sort of reign. Rather, God’s reign has been definitively revealed in Jesus to be one of grace and mercy. Jesus is the One whose throne is the cross, and he reigns by humbly riding into our lives on a donkey and giving himself to us so that we’re remade into the people God created us to be.
That’s the Kingdom of Heaven, and this side of the resurrection our participation in it is weak and partial. (It gets stronger and fuller as we progress in sanctification.) It’s a Kingdom “not of this world” (John 18:36) and “now we see in a mirror, dimly.” (1 Cor. 13:12) Nevertheless, even the foretaste of the feast to come is pretty great, and there will be a Day when “we will see face to face.” (1 Cor. 13:12)
With that said, what does it mean to heed Jesus’ call to drop everything in order to have the one pearl of great price? One group in particular that has tried to imitate the merchant from the parable quite literally is those who have joined religious orders (i.e. friars, monks, nuns). Their vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience are an attempt to follow Jesus more closely by forgoing things (namely possessions, marriage, and autonomy) that can become hindrances to the life of discipleship.
I think Lutherans can learn a lot from those who have joined religious orders. However, the point I want to make here is that we stand to learn even more from Luther, who left his life as a friar and criticized the monastic institution of his day. Often Lutherans have interpreted this to mean that we need not give up anything to have Jesus as King in our lives. However, Luther’s point was precisely the opposite.
When Luther left his life as a friar, it wasn’t because he thought that he didn’t need to give up anything to follow Jesus. Rather, Luther rejected monasticism because monasticism itself had pretended to be God’s Kingdom on earth and, for that reason, it needed to be given up. In Luther’s time it was common to refer to monastic life as a “state of perfection”, which (mis)led people to believe that upon joining a monastery they would automatically find themselves in the Kingdom of God.
But Luther saw quite clearly that it was fully possible to drop some false gods upon joining the monastery, only to pick up other false gods peculiar to monastaic life. And perhaps the most subtle false gods that plague devout Christians are those of self-chosen religious works and self-achieved forms of righteousness. As soon as we begin to make the pearl of great price into something we can possess or achieve, then we lose the real pearl, which is the merciful reign of Jesus.
Luther left his life as a friar not because he thought that Jesus isn’t serious about dropping all of our false gods in order to follow him. He left his life as a friar because he knew that Jesus’ call meant dropping every single false god that there is, especially self-chosen religiosity and the claim that such “works” make one righteous before God.
So that's the lesson of the merchant and the pearl of great price. As evidenced by Luther, the call to drop everything and follow Jesus is an absolute call. It tears us away from clinging to even the finest pearls this world has to offer, and it removes every worldly ground of righteousness. However, it does so only in order to give us the one pearl of great price – Jesus – and the one sure ground of righteousness – his mercy.
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Blessed Are They
Blessed are the poor in spirit. That is, blessed are those whose spirit does not covet and cling to things. Blessed are those who gratefully receive all things from the hand of God, and humbly rely on Him. Blessed are they, for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven.
Blessed are those who mourn. That is, blessed are those who lament the fact that this world is not as God intends it to be. Blessed are they, for God will make good out of evil, and He will comfort those who grieve over iniquity and suffering.
Blessed are the meek. That is, blessed are those who do not insist on their own way. Blessed are those whose hearts are gentle and docile, and blessed are those whose lives are humbly entrusted to the merciful movement of the Holy Spirit. Blessed are they, for they will inherit the Promised Land.
Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness. That is, blessed are those who hope for God to rectify and redeem the evils of this world. And blessed are those whose ongoing desire is to be increasingly filled with the righteousness and love of Christ’s Spirit. Blessed are they, for they indeed will be filled.
Blessed are the merciful. That is, blessed are those who patiently bear one another’s burdens, just as Christ bears theirs. Blessed are those who know that their own sin is in fact a big log in comparison to their neighbor’s sin, which is only a speck. Blessed are they, for they will obtain mercy.
Blessed are the pure in heart. That is, blessed are those whose hearts are not divided among many various false gods. Blessed are those whose entire lives are one long prayer of “thy will be done” to the one true God. Blessed are they, for they will see God.
Blessed are the peacemakers. That is, blessed are those who say “no” to gossip and backbiting. Blessed are those who interpret others’ actions in the most charitable light. And blessed are those who labor for reconciliation, unity, and good will. Blessed are they, for they will be called children of God.
Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake. That is, blessed are those whose commitment to goodness and truth persists even in the face of suffering and rejection. Blessed are those who persist in faith, hope, and love, even and especially when such virtue is despised by the world. Blessed are they, for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven.
And blessed is Jesus Christ, the One who speaks and embodies these blessings. Blessed is He, and blessed are his people. That is, blessed are those who receive Him and his mercy, and are thereby transformed by his Spirit into his image.
Blessed are they.
Blessed are those who mourn. That is, blessed are those who lament the fact that this world is not as God intends it to be. Blessed are they, for God will make good out of evil, and He will comfort those who grieve over iniquity and suffering.
Blessed are the meek. That is, blessed are those who do not insist on their own way. Blessed are those whose hearts are gentle and docile, and blessed are those whose lives are humbly entrusted to the merciful movement of the Holy Spirit. Blessed are they, for they will inherit the Promised Land.
Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness. That is, blessed are those who hope for God to rectify and redeem the evils of this world. And blessed are those whose ongoing desire is to be increasingly filled with the righteousness and love of Christ’s Spirit. Blessed are they, for they indeed will be filled.
Blessed are the merciful. That is, blessed are those who patiently bear one another’s burdens, just as Christ bears theirs. Blessed are those who know that their own sin is in fact a big log in comparison to their neighbor’s sin, which is only a speck. Blessed are they, for they will obtain mercy.
Blessed are the pure in heart. That is, blessed are those whose hearts are not divided among many various false gods. Blessed are those whose entire lives are one long prayer of “thy will be done” to the one true God. Blessed are they, for they will see God.
Blessed are the peacemakers. That is, blessed are those who say “no” to gossip and backbiting. Blessed are those who interpret others’ actions in the most charitable light. And blessed are those who labor for reconciliation, unity, and good will. Blessed are they, for they will be called children of God.
Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake. That is, blessed are those whose commitment to goodness and truth persists even in the face of suffering and rejection. Blessed are those who persist in faith, hope, and love, even and especially when such virtue is despised by the world. Blessed are they, for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven.
And blessed is Jesus Christ, the One who speaks and embodies these blessings. Blessed is He, and blessed are his people. That is, blessed are those who receive Him and his mercy, and are thereby transformed by his Spirit into his image.
Blessed are they.
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
Mercy Revoked
Lately I’ve been doing a comparative reading of the Book of Concord and the Catechism of the Catholic Church. (Fun stuff, I must say.) The particular topic on which I’ve been focusing is repentance, which constituted a point of disagreement between Lutherans and Roman Catholics during the Reformation.
As evidenced by the following quote, Lutheranism identifies two parts to repentance: contrition for sin, and faith in Christ’s mercy. “Now, properly speaking, repentance consists of two parts: one is contrition or the terrors that strike the conscience when sin is recognized; the other is faith, which is brought to life by the gospel or absolution…Thereupon good works, which are the fruit of repentance, should follow.” (Article XII of the Augsburg Confession)
The Roman Catholic teaching, in contrast, identifies three parts to repentance: contrition, confession, and satisfaction/reparation. (It’s worth noting that all three parts presuppose faith.) Specifically the third part – satisfaction – has divided Lutheranism and Roman Catholicism. Whereas Lutheranism teaches that moral improvement should follow repentance, Roman Catholicism puts such improvement actually within the category of repentance. The rationale? “Absolution takes away sin, but it does not remedy all the disorders sin has caused.” (CCC 407)
It’s not my intention here to resolve the disagreement, even though I’m convinced the two views are reconcilable. Rather, I want to underscore the necessity of the fruits of repentance and the possibility of God revoking his mercy. The parable of the “unforgiving slave” in Matthew 18 illustrates these emphases quite nicely, even if disconcertingly.
If you recall, the slave begs his lord whom he owes a large sum of money, “Have patience on me, and I will pay you everything.” The lord’s response: “Out of pity for him, the lord of that slave released him and forgave him the debt.” However, the slave then proceeds to refuse mercy to a fellow slave who owes him money. The lord’s response this time: “You wicked slave! I forgave you all that debt because you pleaded with me. Should you not have had mercy on your fellow slave, as I had mercy on you?” Further: “And in anger the lord handed him over to be tortured until he would pay his entire debt.”
The lord’s response to the forgiven but unforgiving slave in the parable is a sobering warning: God is not mocked, and he will revoke his mercy from the unmerciful. There’s a direct connection here with what 1 Corinthians 11 says about receiving Communion in “an unworthy manner.” Because the Lord’s Meal is for the forgiveness of sins, those who partake in it while persisting in impatience and unkindness toward others thereby “eat and drink judgment against themselves.”*
The point of all this? I think it serves as an important warning, especially to Lutherans who do not include the fruits of repentance in the definition of repentance proper. Certainly the “fruits” are not to be confused with the source of their growth (which is God’s Word of mercy), but nor can the fruits be lacking if true conversion is to happen. For “even now the ax is lying at the root of the trees; every tree therefore that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire.” (Matthew 3:10)
*Impatience and unkindness toward others was indeed what some of the Corinthians were guilty of. Contrast such behavior in 1 Cor. 11 with the definition of love in 1 Cor. 13: “Love is patient; love is kind…” No wonder why Ignatius of Antioch referred to Communion as a “love feast.”
As evidenced by the following quote, Lutheranism identifies two parts to repentance: contrition for sin, and faith in Christ’s mercy. “Now, properly speaking, repentance consists of two parts: one is contrition or the terrors that strike the conscience when sin is recognized; the other is faith, which is brought to life by the gospel or absolution…Thereupon good works, which are the fruit of repentance, should follow.” (Article XII of the Augsburg Confession)
The Roman Catholic teaching, in contrast, identifies three parts to repentance: contrition, confession, and satisfaction/reparation. (It’s worth noting that all three parts presuppose faith.) Specifically the third part – satisfaction – has divided Lutheranism and Roman Catholicism. Whereas Lutheranism teaches that moral improvement should follow repentance, Roman Catholicism puts such improvement actually within the category of repentance. The rationale? “Absolution takes away sin, but it does not remedy all the disorders sin has caused.” (CCC 407)
It’s not my intention here to resolve the disagreement, even though I’m convinced the two views are reconcilable. Rather, I want to underscore the necessity of the fruits of repentance and the possibility of God revoking his mercy. The parable of the “unforgiving slave” in Matthew 18 illustrates these emphases quite nicely, even if disconcertingly.
If you recall, the slave begs his lord whom he owes a large sum of money, “Have patience on me, and I will pay you everything.” The lord’s response: “Out of pity for him, the lord of that slave released him and forgave him the debt.” However, the slave then proceeds to refuse mercy to a fellow slave who owes him money. The lord’s response this time: “You wicked slave! I forgave you all that debt because you pleaded with me. Should you not have had mercy on your fellow slave, as I had mercy on you?” Further: “And in anger the lord handed him over to be tortured until he would pay his entire debt.”
The lord’s response to the forgiven but unforgiving slave in the parable is a sobering warning: God is not mocked, and he will revoke his mercy from the unmerciful. There’s a direct connection here with what 1 Corinthians 11 says about receiving Communion in “an unworthy manner.” Because the Lord’s Meal is for the forgiveness of sins, those who partake in it while persisting in impatience and unkindness toward others thereby “eat and drink judgment against themselves.”*
The point of all this? I think it serves as an important warning, especially to Lutherans who do not include the fruits of repentance in the definition of repentance proper. Certainly the “fruits” are not to be confused with the source of their growth (which is God’s Word of mercy), but nor can the fruits be lacking if true conversion is to happen. For “even now the ax is lying at the root of the trees; every tree therefore that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire.” (Matthew 3:10)
*Impatience and unkindness toward others was indeed what some of the Corinthians were guilty of. Contrast such behavior in 1 Cor. 11 with the definition of love in 1 Cor. 13: “Love is patient; love is kind…” No wonder why Ignatius of Antioch referred to Communion as a “love feast.”
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
"Why Don't We Rest?"
After a Sunday morning service last week, there was a sheet of sermon notes left behind in the pews at Saint John's. The notes read, "God rested on the 7th day, why don’t we rest?” This got me thinking. Indeed, why don’t we rest? And, more importantly, what is true rest? The Ten Commandments prescribe a day of rest, but observing the Sabbath is not a Christian necessity. In fact, Sabbath observance is “only a shadow of what is to come, but the substance belongs to Christ.” (Col. 2:17)
The New Testament witness is clear (especially in Colossians and Hebrews): the true meaning of the Sabbath is revealed in Christ. God made us so that we would enter into his rest, but God’s rest is not merely the cessation of activity. That’s why Jesus, when he was persecuted for working on the Sabbath, said to his persecutors, “My Father is still working, and I also am working.” (John 5:17)
So if true rest is not merely the cessation of activity, then what is it? The story of Martha and Mary is eye-opening. (Luke 10:38-42) Whereas Martha “was distracted by her many tasks,” her sister Mary simply “sat at the Lord’s feet and listened to what he was saying.” The purpose of the Jewish Sabbath is to rest in the presence of God, and because Jesus is God, to sit quietly and listen to him is to find the true Sabbath.
Today’s would-be Christians have the same opportunity as Mary to enter this Sabbath rest. If only we would listen, Jesus still speaks to us: in prayer, in Scripture reading and reflection, in the preaching and teaching of the Church’s apostles and their successors. Most especially, Jesus speaks to us in his Holy Meal: “This is my body, given for you…this is my blood, shed for you.” Hello, Sabbath rest.
Sitting at the feet of Jesus and listening to him may require us to flip off the TV when our favorite show is on, or it may require us to get out of bed on Sunday morning when all we want to do is sleep in. It may also require us to be very active, loving one another even and especially when we we’d rather have “me time”. Even though we’re active as we follow Jesus, it is his Spirit who activates us and, therefore, we find that we’re actually at rest in the midst of such activity.
Ultimately, sitting at Jesus’ feet and listening to him will require us to say “no” to activities that distract us from Jesus and turn us into busy-bodies. It can be difficult to say “no” to mere busy-ness, and it can be disconcerting to fall silent in God’s presence. (He may say things we’d rather not here.) Despite the difficulty and disconcertedness, it is at Jesus’ feet that we find true rest. We would do well to remember Jesus’ words: “Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things; there is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken from her.”
The New Testament witness is clear (especially in Colossians and Hebrews): the true meaning of the Sabbath is revealed in Christ. God made us so that we would enter into his rest, but God’s rest is not merely the cessation of activity. That’s why Jesus, when he was persecuted for working on the Sabbath, said to his persecutors, “My Father is still working, and I also am working.” (John 5:17)
So if true rest is not merely the cessation of activity, then what is it? The story of Martha and Mary is eye-opening. (Luke 10:38-42) Whereas Martha “was distracted by her many tasks,” her sister Mary simply “sat at the Lord’s feet and listened to what he was saying.” The purpose of the Jewish Sabbath is to rest in the presence of God, and because Jesus is God, to sit quietly and listen to him is to find the true Sabbath.
Today’s would-be Christians have the same opportunity as Mary to enter this Sabbath rest. If only we would listen, Jesus still speaks to us: in prayer, in Scripture reading and reflection, in the preaching and teaching of the Church’s apostles and their successors. Most especially, Jesus speaks to us in his Holy Meal: “This is my body, given for you…this is my blood, shed for you.” Hello, Sabbath rest.
Sitting at the feet of Jesus and listening to him may require us to flip off the TV when our favorite show is on, or it may require us to get out of bed on Sunday morning when all we want to do is sleep in. It may also require us to be very active, loving one another even and especially when we we’d rather have “me time”. Even though we’re active as we follow Jesus, it is his Spirit who activates us and, therefore, we find that we’re actually at rest in the midst of such activity.
Ultimately, sitting at Jesus’ feet and listening to him will require us to say “no” to activities that distract us from Jesus and turn us into busy-bodies. It can be difficult to say “no” to mere busy-ness, and it can be disconcerting to fall silent in God’s presence. (He may say things we’d rather not here.) Despite the difficulty and disconcertedness, it is at Jesus’ feet that we find true rest. We would do well to remember Jesus’ words: “Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things; there is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken from her.”
Friday, June 17, 2011
The Great Commission
This Sunday’s lectionary gospel reading is Jesus’ “Great Commission” to the apostles. (Mat. 28:16-20) One thing that stands out is the intimate relationship between baptism and obedience. Jesus sends the apostles to “make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you.”
Baptism and obedience are the two sides of the Christian discipleship coin, and we can’t have one without the other. It’s worth considering each of these two aspects and how they’re related. First baptism…Often overlooked is the name into which we’re baptized. To be baptized into “the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit” is to be baptized into the triune life of God. Man was created in order to participate in the divine nature (2 Pet. 1:4), and the divine nature is – in itself – love. Baptism into the triune name immerses us into that life of divine love.
St. Augustine described the triune life of God as the life of Lover (the Father), Beloved (the Son), and Love (the Spirit). This is most evident in Jesus’ baptism, where Jesus the Son comes up from the water, the Holy Spirit descends on him, and God the Father says, “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well-pleased.” (Mat. 3:17) To be baptized into this triune life is to be united to Jesus the Son, thereby making us “the Beloved”. In baptism, God’s words about Jesus are spoken about the one being baptized: “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well-pleased.” That’s pretty good stuff.
Of course baptism is no magic trick. When it’s severed from the other aspect of discipleship – obedience – then it remains unfruitful. It’s fully possible to reject one’s baptism, never letting the seed of God’s Word to take root and flower in the form of good works (i.e. love). To do this is to walk away from the divine life and, like Esau, sell one’s birthright for a mess of pottage. (Gen. 25:29-34)
In contrast, true Christian discipleship entails both baptism and obedience. Baptism immerses us into the triune life and saves us from sin without us doing a darn thing, but God’s will is that we be personal participants in this salvation. (Consider the Parable of the Sower.) Obedience to Jesus’ commands, then, is the way in which our baptism takes root and produces the fruit of the Spirit. It might look quite ordinary, but Christian obedience immerses one deeper and deeper into the triune life of love. Such obedience is not a way to progress beyond baptism, but rather it’s the way to enter into baptism more deeply and personally.
So that’s the Christian life: baptized in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and entering into that triune life of divine love through the obedience of faith, hope, and love. That’s the Christian life, and there’s a pretty great promise that Jesus attaches to it: “I am with you always, to the end of the age.” His Word, his Meal, and his Body (the Church) are with us always – He himself is with us always – guiding and sustaining the life of discipleship toward its final goal: full participation in the life and love of God.
Baptism and obedience are the two sides of the Christian discipleship coin, and we can’t have one without the other. It’s worth considering each of these two aspects and how they’re related. First baptism…Often overlooked is the name into which we’re baptized. To be baptized into “the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit” is to be baptized into the triune life of God. Man was created in order to participate in the divine nature (2 Pet. 1:4), and the divine nature is – in itself – love. Baptism into the triune name immerses us into that life of divine love.
St. Augustine described the triune life of God as the life of Lover (the Father), Beloved (the Son), and Love (the Spirit). This is most evident in Jesus’ baptism, where Jesus the Son comes up from the water, the Holy Spirit descends on him, and God the Father says, “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well-pleased.” (Mat. 3:17) To be baptized into this triune life is to be united to Jesus the Son, thereby making us “the Beloved”. In baptism, God’s words about Jesus are spoken about the one being baptized: “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well-pleased.” That’s pretty good stuff.
Of course baptism is no magic trick. When it’s severed from the other aspect of discipleship – obedience – then it remains unfruitful. It’s fully possible to reject one’s baptism, never letting the seed of God’s Word to take root and flower in the form of good works (i.e. love). To do this is to walk away from the divine life and, like Esau, sell one’s birthright for a mess of pottage. (Gen. 25:29-34)
In contrast, true Christian discipleship entails both baptism and obedience. Baptism immerses us into the triune life and saves us from sin without us doing a darn thing, but God’s will is that we be personal participants in this salvation. (Consider the Parable of the Sower.) Obedience to Jesus’ commands, then, is the way in which our baptism takes root and produces the fruit of the Spirit. It might look quite ordinary, but Christian obedience immerses one deeper and deeper into the triune life of love. Such obedience is not a way to progress beyond baptism, but rather it’s the way to enter into baptism more deeply and personally.
So that’s the Christian life: baptized in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and entering into that triune life of divine love through the obedience of faith, hope, and love. That’s the Christian life, and there’s a pretty great promise that Jesus attaches to it: “I am with you always, to the end of the age.” His Word, his Meal, and his Body (the Church) are with us always – He himself is with us always – guiding and sustaining the life of discipleship toward its final goal: full participation in the life and love of God.
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Pentecost as Harvest Festival
This Sunday, a lot of churches will celebrate Pentecost. Maybe I’m just an idiot, but I didn’t know until just last week that Pentecost has a Jewish counterpart, also called Pentecost. (It’s also called the “Festival of Weeks”. See Lev. 23:15-22.) Perhaps expectedly – since Christ came not to abolish but to fulfill the law and the prophets – the Jewish Pentecost prefigures the Christian Pentecost. Thus, it sheds interpretive light on what this Sunday’s Pentecost celebration really means. A few things are worth noting:
First, just as the Jewish Pentecost comes fifty days after Passover, so the Christian Pentecost comes fifty days after Easter. Passover and Easter, of course, are parallel events in salvation history. More specifically, Passover prefigures Easter. Passover celebrates God’s deliverance of his people out of slavery in Egypt; Easter celebrates God’s deliverance of his people out of slavery to sin. (John 8:31-36) At Passover, Israel commemorates how God saved his people by the blood of the lamb. At Easter, the Church commemorates how God saves his people by the blood of the definitive Passover Lamb, Jesus.
Those are the parallels between Passover and Easter, and they point to the parallels between the Jewish Pentecost and the Christian Pentecost. Fifty days after Passover, the Jewish Pentecost is a harvest festival that celebrates two things in particular:
(1) God’s law (torah) written on stone tablets (according to Exodus 19:1, this occurred fifty days after Israel was delivered from Egypt)
(2) The abundance of food produced in the Promised Land (Lev. 23:15-22)
Fifty days after Easter, the Christian Pentecost recalls how Christ sends his Spirit into and among his people. Like its Jewish pre-figuration, it’s a harvest festival that celebrates two things:
(1) God’s law (torah) written not on stone tablets but on human hearts by the Spirit of Christ (2 Cor. 3:3)
(2) The abundance of “food” (namely the “fruit of the Spirit”) produced in the true Promised Land
The Christian Pentecost is a “harvest festival” because the Holy Spirit comes not just to hang out, but to produce and reap the “fruit of the Spirit”: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. (Gal. 5:22-23) Ultimately, this is the true fruit of the true Promised Land, yes? If so, then the Jewish Pentecost prefigures and is fulfilled by the Christian Pentecost. Indeed, the latter initiates the definitive Harvest Festival.
A final point I’d like to propose. This might be a stretch, but it might also be true. In Leviticus 23, the Jewish Pentecost is followed by a description of another celebration, called the “Festival of Trumpets”. It’s written: “you shall observe a day of complete rest, a holy convocation commemorated with trumpet blasts. You shall not work at your occupations; and you shall present the Lord’s offering by fire.” (Lev. 23:24-25) Could it be that this “Festival of Trumpets”, which follows the Jewish Pentecost, prefigures what Christianity says will follow the Christian Pentecost (namely, the return of Christ on the Last Day)? The Festival of Trumpets sounds awfully similar to how the New Testament describes Christ’s return: complete rest (Heb. 4:9-11), trumpet blasts (1 Cor. 15:52), and a fire that burns offerings to the Lord (1 Cor. 3:13).
Maybe, and maybe not. In the meantime, enjoy the Harvest Festival called Pentecost. Let’s hope the Spirit continues to make the message of Christ intelligible and effective (just like in Acts 2), so that the fruit of the Promised Land might grow for the pleasure and glory of God.
First, just as the Jewish Pentecost comes fifty days after Passover, so the Christian Pentecost comes fifty days after Easter. Passover and Easter, of course, are parallel events in salvation history. More specifically, Passover prefigures Easter. Passover celebrates God’s deliverance of his people out of slavery in Egypt; Easter celebrates God’s deliverance of his people out of slavery to sin. (John 8:31-36) At Passover, Israel commemorates how God saved his people by the blood of the lamb. At Easter, the Church commemorates how God saves his people by the blood of the definitive Passover Lamb, Jesus.
Those are the parallels between Passover and Easter, and they point to the parallels between the Jewish Pentecost and the Christian Pentecost. Fifty days after Passover, the Jewish Pentecost is a harvest festival that celebrates two things in particular:
(1) God’s law (torah) written on stone tablets (according to Exodus 19:1, this occurred fifty days after Israel was delivered from Egypt)
(2) The abundance of food produced in the Promised Land (Lev. 23:15-22)
Fifty days after Easter, the Christian Pentecost recalls how Christ sends his Spirit into and among his people. Like its Jewish pre-figuration, it’s a harvest festival that celebrates two things:
(1) God’s law (torah) written not on stone tablets but on human hearts by the Spirit of Christ (2 Cor. 3:3)
(2) The abundance of “food” (namely the “fruit of the Spirit”) produced in the true Promised Land
The Christian Pentecost is a “harvest festival” because the Holy Spirit comes not just to hang out, but to produce and reap the “fruit of the Spirit”: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. (Gal. 5:22-23) Ultimately, this is the true fruit of the true Promised Land, yes? If so, then the Jewish Pentecost prefigures and is fulfilled by the Christian Pentecost. Indeed, the latter initiates the definitive Harvest Festival.
A final point I’d like to propose. This might be a stretch, but it might also be true. In Leviticus 23, the Jewish Pentecost is followed by a description of another celebration, called the “Festival of Trumpets”. It’s written: “you shall observe a day of complete rest, a holy convocation commemorated with trumpet blasts. You shall not work at your occupations; and you shall present the Lord’s offering by fire.” (Lev. 23:24-25) Could it be that this “Festival of Trumpets”, which follows the Jewish Pentecost, prefigures what Christianity says will follow the Christian Pentecost (namely, the return of Christ on the Last Day)? The Festival of Trumpets sounds awfully similar to how the New Testament describes Christ’s return: complete rest (Heb. 4:9-11), trumpet blasts (1 Cor. 15:52), and a fire that burns offerings to the Lord (1 Cor. 3:13).
Maybe, and maybe not. In the meantime, enjoy the Harvest Festival called Pentecost. Let’s hope the Spirit continues to make the message of Christ intelligible and effective (just like in Acts 2), so that the fruit of the Promised Land might grow for the pleasure and glory of God.
Thursday, June 2, 2011
Ascension: What's That About?
Today is the day on which the Church commemorates the Ascension, when Christ “was taken up into heaven and sat down at the right hand of God.” (Mark 16:19) I remember a conversation at Beer & Theology (a lovely Wartburg Seminary tradition) about the Ascension. Quite honestly, we didn’t know what to make of the whole thing. I’ve been thinking about it occasionally since then, and though I won’t pretend to have it figured out, I have a few thoughts that have begun to crystallize.
First, the fact that Jesus now sits at the right hand of God is significant. The right hand of God is the place from which God reigns (Psalm 110:1), and therefore Jesus’ placement there indicates that he is the definitive King of creation. More specifically, he is the definitive David: the King of the New Jerusalem (Rev. 21:2) and the Lord of Israel “according to the promise.” (Gal. 3:29) Christ’s commandments and promises are not just the commandments and promises of a good man or wise teacher. Because he sits at the right hand of God, his Word has the authority of God himself: “On the Last Day the Word that I have spoken will serve as judge.” (John 12:48)
Second, the fact that the still-incarnate Christ has ascended to God indicates a fundamental change in the relation of the creation to our Creator. Whereas the incarnation of Christ is the descent of God to humanity, the ascension of Christ is the ascent of humanity to God. Ultimately, the former – God’s descent – is for the sake of the latter – humanity’s ascent. This means that God descends into creation not merely to be with us, but in order to lift us up to himself. That’s why Paul’s account of the Last Day (1 Thessalonians 4:13-18) speaks of both Christ’s descent and our ascent, when we will be “caught up in the clouds together with them to meet the Lord in the air; and so we will be with the Lord forever."
So ultimately I think Christ’s ascension to God points to two things: (1) that Christ is our authoritative Judge and definitive King, and (2) that God’s plan is for his people (those ruled by Christ the King) to be lifted heavenward and made to live with Christ and all his saints.
If you're reading this and going to Beer & Theology tonight, please put my vote in for the Ascension to be the topic of discussion. Happy Ascension of Our Lord Day.
First, the fact that Jesus now sits at the right hand of God is significant. The right hand of God is the place from which God reigns (Psalm 110:1), and therefore Jesus’ placement there indicates that he is the definitive King of creation. More specifically, he is the definitive David: the King of the New Jerusalem (Rev. 21:2) and the Lord of Israel “according to the promise.” (Gal. 3:29) Christ’s commandments and promises are not just the commandments and promises of a good man or wise teacher. Because he sits at the right hand of God, his Word has the authority of God himself: “On the Last Day the Word that I have spoken will serve as judge.” (John 12:48)
Second, the fact that the still-incarnate Christ has ascended to God indicates a fundamental change in the relation of the creation to our Creator. Whereas the incarnation of Christ is the descent of God to humanity, the ascension of Christ is the ascent of humanity to God. Ultimately, the former – God’s descent – is for the sake of the latter – humanity’s ascent. This means that God descends into creation not merely to be with us, but in order to lift us up to himself. That’s why Paul’s account of the Last Day (1 Thessalonians 4:13-18) speaks of both Christ’s descent and our ascent, when we will be “caught up in the clouds together with them to meet the Lord in the air; and so we will be with the Lord forever."
So ultimately I think Christ’s ascension to God points to two things: (1) that Christ is our authoritative Judge and definitive King, and (2) that God’s plan is for his people (those ruled by Christ the King) to be lifted heavenward and made to live with Christ and all his saints.
If you're reading this and going to Beer & Theology tonight, please put my vote in for the Ascension to be the topic of discussion. Happy Ascension of Our Lord Day.
Thursday, May 26, 2011
Is Jesus My Homeboy?
I saw a shirt the other day that said, “Jesus is my homeboy”. I’ve seen these shirts many times before, but they still bother me. I know that there’s some truth to the notion that “Jesus is my homeboy” and I’ll get into that truth later, but there are other things implied by this saying that are at best irreverent and at worst sinful.
Two implications of “Jesus is my homeboy” I find especially problematic. First, it seems to me that this saying is used in order to make Jesus “cool”. Instead of obeying him as our Lord – the one who died to forgive our sins and rose to give us new life – we use him as a fashion statement. I suppose someone could say, “C’mon, Jesus himself says that he’s our friend. (John 15:14) What’s wrong with calling him my homeboy?”
But let’s be honest: by referring to Jesus as “homeboy”, we’re not just saying that he’s our friend. If we were trying to communicate that he’s our friend, the shirt simply would say, “Jesus is my friend”. By saying he’s my homeboy, it’s obvious we’re attempting to make him “cool”. What then happens when we discover that the real Jesus hangs a major question mark over all that we say and do? What happens when the real Jesus proves himself to be very un-cool by cultural standards, like when he blesses the meek, prohibits divorce, and commands that we love our enemies? (Matthew 5) Is he still our “homeboy” when he’s not very “cool”?
The second problem with “Jesus is my homeboy” is the implication that Jesus supports us in what we do. The common use of the word “homeboy” refers to someone who’s “got my back” and who’s my equal in this thing called life. But Jesus is not our equal: he is our Lord. Indeed he calls us his friends, but there’s a very important caveat that Jesus places on his friendship: “You are my friends if you do what I command you.” Somehow I doubt that the makers and wearers of “Jesus is my homeboy” shirts would be willing to add the subscript, “insofar as I obey him”.
Ultimately, the “Jesus is my homeboy” shirts seem to violate the second commandment by using the Lord’s name in vain. (Exodus 20:7) Jesus is not to be used as a fashion statement, nor does he support us in all that we do. Rather, he is our friend if and when we obey him as our Lord. If and when that happens, Jesus promises that he and God the Father will become our homeboys in a way far better than our silly t-shirt slogans imagine: “Those who love me will keep my word, and my Father will love them, and we will come to them and make our home with them.” (John 14:23)
Two implications of “Jesus is my homeboy” I find especially problematic. First, it seems to me that this saying is used in order to make Jesus “cool”. Instead of obeying him as our Lord – the one who died to forgive our sins and rose to give us new life – we use him as a fashion statement. I suppose someone could say, “C’mon, Jesus himself says that he’s our friend. (John 15:14) What’s wrong with calling him my homeboy?”
But let’s be honest: by referring to Jesus as “homeboy”, we’re not just saying that he’s our friend. If we were trying to communicate that he’s our friend, the shirt simply would say, “Jesus is my friend”. By saying he’s my homeboy, it’s obvious we’re attempting to make him “cool”. What then happens when we discover that the real Jesus hangs a major question mark over all that we say and do? What happens when the real Jesus proves himself to be very un-cool by cultural standards, like when he blesses the meek, prohibits divorce, and commands that we love our enemies? (Matthew 5) Is he still our “homeboy” when he’s not very “cool”?
The second problem with “Jesus is my homeboy” is the implication that Jesus supports us in what we do. The common use of the word “homeboy” refers to someone who’s “got my back” and who’s my equal in this thing called life. But Jesus is not our equal: he is our Lord. Indeed he calls us his friends, but there’s a very important caveat that Jesus places on his friendship: “You are my friends if you do what I command you.” Somehow I doubt that the makers and wearers of “Jesus is my homeboy” shirts would be willing to add the subscript, “insofar as I obey him”.
Ultimately, the “Jesus is my homeboy” shirts seem to violate the second commandment by using the Lord’s name in vain. (Exodus 20:7) Jesus is not to be used as a fashion statement, nor does he support us in all that we do. Rather, he is our friend if and when we obey him as our Lord. If and when that happens, Jesus promises that he and God the Father will become our homeboys in a way far better than our silly t-shirt slogans imagine: “Those who love me will keep my word, and my Father will love them, and we will come to them and make our home with them.” (John 14:23)
Friday, May 20, 2011
Jesus: Gift or Example?
Is Jesus a gift or an example? I’ve noticed a tendency within Christianity to divide between Jesus-as-gift and Jesus-as-example. Those who take him as gift-alone speak exclusively of his forgiveness of our sins, while those who take him as example-alone speak exclusively of his love for others that we ought to emulate.
The gift-alone group treats the Christian message as mere information that makes no real change in the human will. It speaks of “forensic justification,” which means that God accepts us as sinners and lets us stay just as we are. The one who sees Jesus as gift alone might feel good about being “accepted” by God, but his life is no different than before he heard about this “acceptance”. (It's worth noting the difference between "acceptance", which lets sin remain, and God's love, which burns away sin.)
In contrast, the example-alone group treats the Christian message as nothing more than a moral exhortation. With no recognition of Jesus-as-gift, we’re left on our own to muster up love for our enemies. This view dismisses the notion of original sin, acting as if we’re all good people who just need the occasional reminder to be nice.
Often the attempt to combine these two views results in a schizophrenic Christianity that’s part Gnosticism and part Pelagianism. “Jesus is God’s gift to you,” says schizophrenic Christianity, “and because of that, you need to go show his love to others.” Obviously, the division between Jesus-as-gift and Jesus-as-example is clumsy at best.
Put simply, this division is wrong. Jesus is indeed our gift, and he is also our example. The inseparability of the two is obvious in John 13, when Jesus washes his disciples’ feet (gift) and then gives us the “new commandment” to love one another just as he has loved us (example). Jesus’ commandment is not a moral appendix to his gift. Rather, the commandment and ability to follow Jesus’ example flow from the very nature of the gift.
Jesus’ washing of his disciples’ feet signifies a true interior renewal, cleansing us from sin. This cleansing restores the original purity of the human will by redirecting our wills toward love. In theological-speak, that means justification is not merely forensic.
Shortly after the foot-washing scene in John 13, Jesus says that “the one who believes in me will also do the works that I do.” (John 14:12) Jesus’ actions become ours, because his Spirit is living and acting in us. Just like Christ, those who have received the gift of his Spirit will, in turn, do his works: turning the ordinary water of life into the wine of celebration (John 2), giving others the sight of faith to see Jesus and believe that he is the Son of Man (John 9), calling those who are dead in sin back to life in Christ (John 11), and humbly loving others which thereby cleanses them from sin (John 13). Finally, because of the gift of Christ’s Spirit, those who believe will follow his example by laying down their lives for one another. In so doing, they will rise to new life.
So is Jesus a gift or an example? Said differently, is he our Savior or our Lord? I think our answer is obvious: Yes.
The gift-alone group treats the Christian message as mere information that makes no real change in the human will. It speaks of “forensic justification,” which means that God accepts us as sinners and lets us stay just as we are. The one who sees Jesus as gift alone might feel good about being “accepted” by God, but his life is no different than before he heard about this “acceptance”. (It's worth noting the difference between "acceptance", which lets sin remain, and God's love, which burns away sin.)
In contrast, the example-alone group treats the Christian message as nothing more than a moral exhortation. With no recognition of Jesus-as-gift, we’re left on our own to muster up love for our enemies. This view dismisses the notion of original sin, acting as if we’re all good people who just need the occasional reminder to be nice.
Often the attempt to combine these two views results in a schizophrenic Christianity that’s part Gnosticism and part Pelagianism. “Jesus is God’s gift to you,” says schizophrenic Christianity, “and because of that, you need to go show his love to others.” Obviously, the division between Jesus-as-gift and Jesus-as-example is clumsy at best.
Put simply, this division is wrong. Jesus is indeed our gift, and he is also our example. The inseparability of the two is obvious in John 13, when Jesus washes his disciples’ feet (gift) and then gives us the “new commandment” to love one another just as he has loved us (example). Jesus’ commandment is not a moral appendix to his gift. Rather, the commandment and ability to follow Jesus’ example flow from the very nature of the gift.
Jesus’ washing of his disciples’ feet signifies a true interior renewal, cleansing us from sin. This cleansing restores the original purity of the human will by redirecting our wills toward love. In theological-speak, that means justification is not merely forensic.
Shortly after the foot-washing scene in John 13, Jesus says that “the one who believes in me will also do the works that I do.” (John 14:12) Jesus’ actions become ours, because his Spirit is living and acting in us. Just like Christ, those who have received the gift of his Spirit will, in turn, do his works: turning the ordinary water of life into the wine of celebration (John 2), giving others the sight of faith to see Jesus and believe that he is the Son of Man (John 9), calling those who are dead in sin back to life in Christ (John 11), and humbly loving others which thereby cleanses them from sin (John 13). Finally, because of the gift of Christ’s Spirit, those who believe will follow his example by laying down their lives for one another. In so doing, they will rise to new life.
So is Jesus a gift or an example? Said differently, is he our Savior or our Lord? I think our answer is obvious: Yes.
Friday, May 13, 2011
A Second Run-In
I ran into Thomas again last weekend. If you haven’t heard about my previous run-in, see the post below. I thought I would be able to walk by Thomas again without being noticed, but he spotted me out. Bummer. His message: “Only 14 days left, man.” I said just one thing in response, “Actually Thomas, Jesus tells me that the judgment is tonight.” Thomas: “You’re going to fry for that, man. May 21st, you’re going to fry.”
Thomas didn’t realize that my comment was actually straight from Jesus’ parable of the rich fool in Luke 12:20: “This very night your life is being demanded of you.” I explained the comment to him, but he wasn’t listening. I learned from my previous encounter that this is how Thomas works: all talking, no listening. I didn’t spend much time there, just enough to say that he should read Luke 12.
Last time I came across Thomas, it got me thinking about the error of detaching God’s Spirit from God’s Word. This time, I was more frustrated by the fact that Thomas’ enthusiasm actually has the opposite effect of what he’s intending. Most people see quite clearly that Thomas is wrong, and then they assume that all talk about judgment is equally bogus. This plugs their ears to the true call of Christ to repent and be prepared “for the Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hour.” (Luke 12:40)
I was left to wonder: If we don’t have the specific date of the Last Day, then how do we not engender laxity? We can’t fall into the error of the enthusiasts, who try to set a date by separating the Spirit from the Word. But nor can we fall into the error of saying there is no Last Day and no judgment.
So what is the Christian message regarding the Last Day? It has many parts, but I’m going to focus on two. First, that Day will come like a thief in the night. No one knows the exact date, not even the Son. The take-home point? Repent, set your faith and hope on Christ, love one another fervently, and be prepared. That’s the first part.
Second, the Day of Judgment hangs over our heads at every moment of our lives. The parable of the rich fool (Luke 12:13-21) remains true: “This very night your life is being demanded of you.” The Last Day is not just some day down the road, but the Day on which all temporal history is taken up into eternity and judged by God. That’s why Jesus doesn’t say, “Repent, for the Kingdom of Heaven will be here in 14 days,” but, “Repent, for the Kingdom of Heaven is at hand.” (Matthew 4:17)
It is this day and this life that God judges on the Last Day. That – and not because we’ve pinpointed a date – is why the call to repentance and faith is urgent. Judgment is not merely a future event that we can afford to ignore for now, so long as we get serious when we know that it’s really coming. Because every moment of our lives is taken up into eternity and judged, it’s just plain stupid to postpone repentance.
So we don’t set a date, but nor do we ignore the call of Christ to repent. In contrast to these two errors, the Christian life is to be lived in light of the Last Day. With Christ as our foundation, we are to be building our lives on Him. (1 Cor. 3) When this temporal world is taken up into the eternal Kingdom of God, “the work of each builder will become visible, for the Day will disclose it, because it will be revealed with fire, and the fire will test what sort of work each has done.” (1 Cor. 3:13) Neither setting dates nor living in laxity, but faithfully building our lives on Christ as that Day draws near: that is how Christianity is to be lived and proclaimed.
I’m tempted to go find Thomas again. Love hopes all things, right?
Thomas didn’t realize that my comment was actually straight from Jesus’ parable of the rich fool in Luke 12:20: “This very night your life is being demanded of you.” I explained the comment to him, but he wasn’t listening. I learned from my previous encounter that this is how Thomas works: all talking, no listening. I didn’t spend much time there, just enough to say that he should read Luke 12.
Last time I came across Thomas, it got me thinking about the error of detaching God’s Spirit from God’s Word. This time, I was more frustrated by the fact that Thomas’ enthusiasm actually has the opposite effect of what he’s intending. Most people see quite clearly that Thomas is wrong, and then they assume that all talk about judgment is equally bogus. This plugs their ears to the true call of Christ to repent and be prepared “for the Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hour.” (Luke 12:40)
I was left to wonder: If we don’t have the specific date of the Last Day, then how do we not engender laxity? We can’t fall into the error of the enthusiasts, who try to set a date by separating the Spirit from the Word. But nor can we fall into the error of saying there is no Last Day and no judgment.
So what is the Christian message regarding the Last Day? It has many parts, but I’m going to focus on two. First, that Day will come like a thief in the night. No one knows the exact date, not even the Son. The take-home point? Repent, set your faith and hope on Christ, love one another fervently, and be prepared. That’s the first part.
Second, the Day of Judgment hangs over our heads at every moment of our lives. The parable of the rich fool (Luke 12:13-21) remains true: “This very night your life is being demanded of you.” The Last Day is not just some day down the road, but the Day on which all temporal history is taken up into eternity and judged by God. That’s why Jesus doesn’t say, “Repent, for the Kingdom of Heaven will be here in 14 days,” but, “Repent, for the Kingdom of Heaven is at hand.” (Matthew 4:17)
It is this day and this life that God judges on the Last Day. That – and not because we’ve pinpointed a date – is why the call to repentance and faith is urgent. Judgment is not merely a future event that we can afford to ignore for now, so long as we get serious when we know that it’s really coming. Because every moment of our lives is taken up into eternity and judged, it’s just plain stupid to postpone repentance.
So we don’t set a date, but nor do we ignore the call of Christ to repent. In contrast to these two errors, the Christian life is to be lived in light of the Last Day. With Christ as our foundation, we are to be building our lives on Him. (1 Cor. 3) When this temporal world is taken up into the eternal Kingdom of God, “the work of each builder will become visible, for the Day will disclose it, because it will be revealed with fire, and the fire will test what sort of work each has done.” (1 Cor. 3:13) Neither setting dates nor living in laxity, but faithfully building our lives on Christ as that Day draws near: that is how Christianity is to be lived and proclaimed.
I’m tempted to go find Thomas again. Love hopes all things, right?
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Is May 21 Judgment Day?
For the last month, there has been a fellow parked near the Pismo Beach pier with a giant sign on his car: “May 21, 2011: Judgment Day”. As I walked by last week, he offered me a pamphlet. I initially declined, but about a minute later a verse from Mark 13 popped into my head: “But about that day or hour no one knows, neither the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father.” (Mark 13:32) I went back for a pamphlet.
I was curious what this guy was selling, especially since Jesus himself says he doesn’t know when the Last Day is. Well, what I thought would be a quick exchange of a pamphlet turned into an hour of wackiness. Here’s a summary. First, the fellow’s name was Thomas. (Ah, the irony of a gullible Thomas.) Thomas knows that the Last Day is May 21st because this date can be calculated from various biblical prophecies. He wasn’t clear on what those prophecies are, but he was good at flipping from verse to verse, reading them hastily and without attention to context, and then shouting “Wooooooooo.” I was a bit embarrassed by his shenanigans, but I stuck it out and continued to talk to him.
I told Thomas that “no one knows” when the Last Day is, and he responded quite matter-of-factly: “You’re wrong.” Well, um, that’s a problem Thomas, because those are Jesus’ own words. I had him refer to Mark 13:32. After he read the verse, he quickly turned to other verses and acted as if these produced some kind of loophole in Jesus’ saying. I wasn’t buying it, so I told him to go back to Mark 13:32. He wouldn’t do it.
Our conversation ended when I said, “No one knows when the Last Day is, not even Jesus himself.” Thomas’ response: “You’re wrong. I do know.” At that point, I told Thomas that between his word and Jesus’ word (and between his pamphlet and the Bible), I believe the latter. As I walked away, he yelled out that I was doomed.
My conversation with Thomas underscored something important for me. Namely, we can’t separate the Spirit of God from the Word of God. The Lutheran Reformers insisted on this – they derisively referred to such attempts as “enthusiasm” – and now I know why. Thomas was an “enthusiast” who was convinced that the Spirit of God had led him into knowing something that the Word of God didn’t. He even went so far as to flatly contradict the Word of God. Jesus: “No one knows.” Thomas: “You’re wrong. I know.”
The Spirit of God does not contradict the Word of God. If any Christian thinks he is being led by God’s Sprit while he simultaneously speaks – or acts – against God’s Word (against Jesus himself), he’s wrong. Don’t be fooled, even if he says that the Holy Spirit “laid it on my heart” to say or do something. That same spirit might also say that “God is doing a new thing”, which indeed has a biblical basis. (See Isaiah 43:19) However, if that “new thing” contradicts God’s Word, it is not God who is doing it.
Jesus is clear in saying that the Spirit does not contradict the Word: “When the Spirit of Truth comes, He will guide you into all truth; for He will not speak on his own, but will speak whatever He hears, and He will declare to you the things that are to come. He will glorify Me, because He will take what is mine and declare it to you.” (John 16:13-14)
Ultimately, the error of dissociating God’s Spirit from His Word is something to which all Christians are susceptible. It leads us to all sorts of sins, even as we think that we are being led by the Holy Spirit. “Enthusiasm” is alive and well. For that reason, we ought to keep 1 John 4:1 continually before us: “Beloved, do not believe every spirit, but test the spirits to see whether they are from God; for many false prophets have gone out into the world.”
I was curious what this guy was selling, especially since Jesus himself says he doesn’t know when the Last Day is. Well, what I thought would be a quick exchange of a pamphlet turned into an hour of wackiness. Here’s a summary. First, the fellow’s name was Thomas. (Ah, the irony of a gullible Thomas.) Thomas knows that the Last Day is May 21st because this date can be calculated from various biblical prophecies. He wasn’t clear on what those prophecies are, but he was good at flipping from verse to verse, reading them hastily and without attention to context, and then shouting “Wooooooooo.” I was a bit embarrassed by his shenanigans, but I stuck it out and continued to talk to him.
I told Thomas that “no one knows” when the Last Day is, and he responded quite matter-of-factly: “You’re wrong.” Well, um, that’s a problem Thomas, because those are Jesus’ own words. I had him refer to Mark 13:32. After he read the verse, he quickly turned to other verses and acted as if these produced some kind of loophole in Jesus’ saying. I wasn’t buying it, so I told him to go back to Mark 13:32. He wouldn’t do it.
Our conversation ended when I said, “No one knows when the Last Day is, not even Jesus himself.” Thomas’ response: “You’re wrong. I do know.” At that point, I told Thomas that between his word and Jesus’ word (and between his pamphlet and the Bible), I believe the latter. As I walked away, he yelled out that I was doomed.
My conversation with Thomas underscored something important for me. Namely, we can’t separate the Spirit of God from the Word of God. The Lutheran Reformers insisted on this – they derisively referred to such attempts as “enthusiasm” – and now I know why. Thomas was an “enthusiast” who was convinced that the Spirit of God had led him into knowing something that the Word of God didn’t. He even went so far as to flatly contradict the Word of God. Jesus: “No one knows.” Thomas: “You’re wrong. I know.”
The Spirit of God does not contradict the Word of God. If any Christian thinks he is being led by God’s Sprit while he simultaneously speaks – or acts – against God’s Word (against Jesus himself), he’s wrong. Don’t be fooled, even if he says that the Holy Spirit “laid it on my heart” to say or do something. That same spirit might also say that “God is doing a new thing”, which indeed has a biblical basis. (See Isaiah 43:19) However, if that “new thing” contradicts God’s Word, it is not God who is doing it.
Jesus is clear in saying that the Spirit does not contradict the Word: “When the Spirit of Truth comes, He will guide you into all truth; for He will not speak on his own, but will speak whatever He hears, and He will declare to you the things that are to come. He will glorify Me, because He will take what is mine and declare it to you.” (John 16:13-14)
Ultimately, the error of dissociating God’s Spirit from His Word is something to which all Christians are susceptible. It leads us to all sorts of sins, even as we think that we are being led by the Holy Spirit. “Enthusiasm” is alive and well. For that reason, we ought to keep 1 John 4:1 continually before us: “Beloved, do not believe every spirit, but test the spirits to see whether they are from God; for many false prophets have gone out into the world.”
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)