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)
Thursday, August 25, 2011
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.
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