I've been on a Jonathan Edwards binge lately. It started with reading his sermons, and since then I’ve plowed through a 600-page biography and started into Edwards’ treatise, “Freedom of the Will”. My plan is to follow that up with “The Religious Affections”. It’s becoming an obsession, if you couldn’t tell.
Why do I mention this? Aside from my desire to recommend Jonathan Edwards, I also wanted to comment on Edwards’ “Freedom of the Will”. I’m not finished with the book, but it’s already changing the way I see the Christian life. Let me explain.
Edwards’ basic argument is that the human will is not free. Yes, the will has the power to choose particular actions. However, the choice itself is governed by a logically prior desire or motive – over which the will has no power.
In other words, some things are under the jurisdiction of the human will, like choosing what to eat, whether to stand or sit, and even whether to give money to the poor. And yet, despite this power to choose certain actions, the will has no power over the ultimate motive lying behind its choices. That is, the will does not choose its desires. Rather, desires (which we do not choose) move the will.
As much as we may try to change our motive by choosing to do this or that, only the actions change – not the ultimate motive of our choices. So the question we have to ask ourselves is this: Who or what is my ultimate motive in life? To put the question in more explicitly biblical terms: Who or what is my god?
In the end, the answer to that question can be found by asking, What do I love most? According to Edwards (and I think he’s right), the answer given to that question is not something we choose with the power of our will. As much as we may try, we cannot choose to love someone or something. Rather, we simply love whatever we believe is lovely, and we love most whatever we believe is most lovely.
So if we simply love whatever we find lovely, and if our wills have no power over what we find lovely, then what do we do with the command, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, and strength”? The only way someone can fulfill this command is if he finds God lovelier than anything else.
But that begs the question: How does one come to believe that God is infinitely lovely? At this point, I think the only possible answer is that God – who is infinitely lovely whether we believe it or not – must reveal himself to us. Want to love God? Don’t rely on your (fallen) will, but truly pray (which means a complete surrender) that God would reveal himself to you in all his loveliness.
I’m talking in abstractions, I know, but this becomes very concrete when we consider God’s actual self-revelation. I’d bet that anyone who has ever encountered the living Jesus (the revelation of God) would say that he is infinitely lovely. And the one who sees such loveliness cannot help but love him. Maybe I’m teetering on the edge of “irresistible grace”, but the point still stands: We love what we find lovely, and when God shows us his infinite loveliness in Jesus, we cannot help but love him.
So the concluding question is this: How do we come to see the loveliness of Jesus? The answer: God must re-create our hearts, which have turned to lesser loves and degrading passions. Only then will we find Jesus – the crucified Christ – lovelier than anything else our hearts have ever seen.
As God’s revelation of his loveliness changes what we find most lovely, then our wills will be changed and our ultimate motive will be to love God more than anything else (which also means loving one another, for that is what our lovely God desires). And then we – whose wills were once in bondage to lesser loves and degrading passions – can say quite freely: “We love because he first loved us.” (1 John 4:19)
Sunday, February 19, 2012
Sunday, February 12, 2012
Ananias and Sapphira
This post is in response to a recent seminary class conversation about Ananias and Sapphira. (See Acts 5:1-11)
God is love. (1 John 4:8) He is also a consuming fire. (Hebrews 12:29) Yes, He forgives sin, for He is “the Father of mercies and God of all comfort.” (2 Corinthians 1:3) And yet still, “God is not mocked, for whatever a man sows, that he will also reap.” (Galatians 6:7)
God’s goodness does not abolish his severity; his kindness does not abolish his wrath; his mercy does not abolish his justice. And his Son, Jesus Christ, has come not to abolish the law and the prophets, but to fulfill. (Matthew 5:17)
Can the tension between God’s goodness and severity be resolved? No, and any attempt to do so is wrongheaded. The task of man is not to resolve God, but to believe in Him. God is who He says He is. His thoughts are not our thoughts; his ways are not our ways. (Isaiah 55:8)
It might grate on modern sensibilities, but God exalts a man by humbling him, and raises him up by casting him down. If that contradicts the picture we have of God, our picture is wrong. After all, as Calvin said, the human heart is an “idol factory”.
The biblical God – the true God – calls himself a jealous God. (Exodus 20:5) Ananias and Sapphira knew of God’s jealousy (that is, they knew that God demanded a complete surrender), but they did not believe that his jealousy was out of love. Because of their unbelief, their offering to God was half-hearted and they persisted in sin by trying to cover it up with lies. The result? The Holy Spirit departed from them, and, deprived of the Spirit, their lives ended.
The humble, instead of taking offense at this and plugging their ears to its lesson, will learn from it. They'll learn that the Spirit of God is an all-or-nothing Gift, possessed only by those whom He possesses. Because this is true, the story of Ananias and Sapphira can't be dismissed as too hard to bear. It should be taken with humility, its lesson heeded with a wholehearted surrender to the God who is both good and severe.
“Therefore consider the goodness and severity of God: on those who fell, severity; but toward you, goodness, if you continue in His goodness. Otherwise you also will be cut off.” Romans 11:22
God is love. (1 John 4:8) He is also a consuming fire. (Hebrews 12:29) Yes, He forgives sin, for He is “the Father of mercies and God of all comfort.” (2 Corinthians 1:3) And yet still, “God is not mocked, for whatever a man sows, that he will also reap.” (Galatians 6:7)
God’s goodness does not abolish his severity; his kindness does not abolish his wrath; his mercy does not abolish his justice. And his Son, Jesus Christ, has come not to abolish the law and the prophets, but to fulfill. (Matthew 5:17)
Can the tension between God’s goodness and severity be resolved? No, and any attempt to do so is wrongheaded. The task of man is not to resolve God, but to believe in Him. God is who He says He is. His thoughts are not our thoughts; his ways are not our ways. (Isaiah 55:8)
It might grate on modern sensibilities, but God exalts a man by humbling him, and raises him up by casting him down. If that contradicts the picture we have of God, our picture is wrong. After all, as Calvin said, the human heart is an “idol factory”.
The biblical God – the true God – calls himself a jealous God. (Exodus 20:5) Ananias and Sapphira knew of God’s jealousy (that is, they knew that God demanded a complete surrender), but they did not believe that his jealousy was out of love. Because of their unbelief, their offering to God was half-hearted and they persisted in sin by trying to cover it up with lies. The result? The Holy Spirit departed from them, and, deprived of the Spirit, their lives ended.
The humble, instead of taking offense at this and plugging their ears to its lesson, will learn from it. They'll learn that the Spirit of God is an all-or-nothing Gift, possessed only by those whom He possesses. Because this is true, the story of Ananias and Sapphira can't be dismissed as too hard to bear. It should be taken with humility, its lesson heeded with a wholehearted surrender to the God who is both good and severe.
“Therefore consider the goodness and severity of God: on those who fell, severity; but toward you, goodness, if you continue in His goodness. Otherwise you also will be cut off.” Romans 11:22
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
When “Follow Me” Seems Like Bad News
“If anyone desires to come after Me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow Me.” Matthew 16:24
I have to admit that sometimes those words seem like bad news. Who really wants to deny himself? And who lets himself be crucified, especially when he’s done nothing wrong? Instead of bearing the cross of Christ, the temptation is to complain of even the pettiest injustices.
So yes, sometimes Jesus' words seem like bad news. But the truth is that they are wonderfully good news. Why? Because it is Jesus speaking them. If it were Oprah speaking, or the Buddha, or even Moses or the apostle Paul, then yes, those words would be hollow. Oprah is not Lord, the Buddha bit the dust a long time ago, and even Moses and Paul were not crucified for my sins or raised for my justification.
But the words “follow Me” are good news because it is Jesus speaking, the One who has overcome sin and death. Even though they look like nothing more than self-denial and death to the eyes of my flesh, with the eyes of faith I see that they're the words of eternal life.
Anyone who has ever believed in the Speaker knows that this is true. They know that when they deny themselves for Christ, they find their true self; when they are crucified (even and especially unjustly crucified) with Him, they are raised with Him.
Those who believe that God exalts the humble and gives life to the dead – those who believe in Christ – are free to actually glory in the midst of their tribulations. Because their hope is not a worldly hope, they can say, “We also glory in tribulations, knowing that tribulation produces perseverance; and perseverance, character; and character, hope. Now hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out in our hearts by the Holy Spirit who was given to us.” (Romans 5:3-5)
In the face of self-denial and, yes, even in the face of death, those with Christ as Lord can hear his voice: “It is I; do not be afraid.” (John 6:20) And so the fear of death drops away. It is simply unnecessary to fear, for Christ has overcome death so “that through death He might destroy him who had the power of death, that is, the devil, and release those who through fear of death were all their lifetime subject to bondage.” (Hebrews 2:14-15)
So it’s worth asking again: Who sees goodness in self-denial and cross-bearing? Who rejoices in tribulation and knows that it’s okay to die? The answer: he who believes. And because this is so, when Jesus’ words – deny yourself, take up your cross, and follow Me – look like bad news, we ought to be reminded that it is Jesus speaking. He is Lord; He has been raised; and sin and death no longer have dominion over us. (Romans 8:2)
And then we ought to pray: “Lord I believe; help my unbelief!” (Mark 9:24)
I have to admit that sometimes those words seem like bad news. Who really wants to deny himself? And who lets himself be crucified, especially when he’s done nothing wrong? Instead of bearing the cross of Christ, the temptation is to complain of even the pettiest injustices.
So yes, sometimes Jesus' words seem like bad news. But the truth is that they are wonderfully good news. Why? Because it is Jesus speaking them. If it were Oprah speaking, or the Buddha, or even Moses or the apostle Paul, then yes, those words would be hollow. Oprah is not Lord, the Buddha bit the dust a long time ago, and even Moses and Paul were not crucified for my sins or raised for my justification.
But the words “follow Me” are good news because it is Jesus speaking, the One who has overcome sin and death. Even though they look like nothing more than self-denial and death to the eyes of my flesh, with the eyes of faith I see that they're the words of eternal life.
Anyone who has ever believed in the Speaker knows that this is true. They know that when they deny themselves for Christ, they find their true self; when they are crucified (even and especially unjustly crucified) with Him, they are raised with Him.
Those who believe that God exalts the humble and gives life to the dead – those who believe in Christ – are free to actually glory in the midst of their tribulations. Because their hope is not a worldly hope, they can say, “We also glory in tribulations, knowing that tribulation produces perseverance; and perseverance, character; and character, hope. Now hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out in our hearts by the Holy Spirit who was given to us.” (Romans 5:3-5)
In the face of self-denial and, yes, even in the face of death, those with Christ as Lord can hear his voice: “It is I; do not be afraid.” (John 6:20) And so the fear of death drops away. It is simply unnecessary to fear, for Christ has overcome death so “that through death He might destroy him who had the power of death, that is, the devil, and release those who through fear of death were all their lifetime subject to bondage.” (Hebrews 2:14-15)
So it’s worth asking again: Who sees goodness in self-denial and cross-bearing? Who rejoices in tribulation and knows that it’s okay to die? The answer: he who believes. And because this is so, when Jesus’ words – deny yourself, take up your cross, and follow Me – look like bad news, we ought to be reminded that it is Jesus speaking. He is Lord; He has been raised; and sin and death no longer have dominion over us. (Romans 8:2)
And then we ought to pray: “Lord I believe; help my unbelief!” (Mark 9:24)
Sunday, February 5, 2012
A Rule for Interpreting Scripture?
Last week, I found myself in a nice little conversation about single and double predestination. (Such conversations aren't normal, I know.) In the discussion, I stated that there’s a fundamental rule for doing theology. The rule? A correct interpretation of Scripture will give rise neither to arrogance nor to despair, but to love.
I’ve been thinking about that “rule” since then. Is it really biblical? I think so. After all, each interpretation given among God’s people is supposed to “be done for edification.” (1 Corinthians 14:26) And Christian edification is edification "in love." (Ephesians 4:16)
So the “rule” (that a good interpretation ought to evoke love) seems valid. This isn't terribly surprising, since the greatest gift of the Spirit is love. (1 Corinthians 13) And love, it should be remembered, “hopes all things” (no more despair) and “is not puffed up” (no more arrogance).
As much as this "rule of edification" can be a good one, I think it should be applied with one very important caveat in mind: the biblical definition of love is often at odds with the worldly definition of love. And, to make things even more complicated, it's the worldly definition that tends to prevail…even in the Church of God.
For that reason, all interpretation needs to be accompanied by submission to the definition of love given by God Himself. That definition is stated in 1 Corinthians 13, and it’s also given by the Bible as a whole. And most fundamentally, it is given by Christ on the Cross. Indeed, “greater love has no one than this, than to lay down one’s life for his friends.” (John 15:13)
Those who would interpret Scripture for the sake of edification need to cling to this definition of love. True love is not merely a feeling, but humble self-denial for the sake of another. And true edification leads not to some flimsy boost of self-confidence, but to the Cross where confidence in self is replaced by confidence in God.
Ultimately, the rule of edification can be a very good one. If it's applied with submission to God's definition of love, then it will lead to true and lasting edification. It will lead neither to despair nor to arrogance, but to love. And ultimately, I don’t think I’m going too far in saying that a truly edifying interpretation of Scripture will lead to Christ Himself.
I’ve been thinking about that “rule” since then. Is it really biblical? I think so. After all, each interpretation given among God’s people is supposed to “be done for edification.” (1 Corinthians 14:26) And Christian edification is edification "in love." (Ephesians 4:16)
So the “rule” (that a good interpretation ought to evoke love) seems valid. This isn't terribly surprising, since the greatest gift of the Spirit is love. (1 Corinthians 13) And love, it should be remembered, “hopes all things” (no more despair) and “is not puffed up” (no more arrogance).
As much as this "rule of edification" can be a good one, I think it should be applied with one very important caveat in mind: the biblical definition of love is often at odds with the worldly definition of love. And, to make things even more complicated, it's the worldly definition that tends to prevail…even in the Church of God.
For that reason, all interpretation needs to be accompanied by submission to the definition of love given by God Himself. That definition is stated in 1 Corinthians 13, and it’s also given by the Bible as a whole. And most fundamentally, it is given by Christ on the Cross. Indeed, “greater love has no one than this, than to lay down one’s life for his friends.” (John 15:13)
Those who would interpret Scripture for the sake of edification need to cling to this definition of love. True love is not merely a feeling, but humble self-denial for the sake of another. And true edification leads not to some flimsy boost of self-confidence, but to the Cross where confidence in self is replaced by confidence in God.
Ultimately, the rule of edification can be a very good one. If it's applied with submission to God's definition of love, then it will lead to true and lasting edification. It will lead neither to despair nor to arrogance, but to love. And ultimately, I don’t think I’m going too far in saying that a truly edifying interpretation of Scripture will lead to Christ Himself.
Friday, February 3, 2012
Christian Learning: A Two-Edged Sword
This week I began my last semester of seminary. Because it’s my last semester, a particular question has been on my mind: What’s the role of learning in the Christian life? That is, how is knowledge about the Christian faith related to the life of Christian discipleship? Following are a few thoughts.
It seems that Christian learning is a two-edged sword. The good side? Knowledge of God may persuade us to love God, and it may persuade us to follow his Son. Moreover, growth in the knowledge of God may lead to growth in love for Him, and growth in the knowledge of Christ may lead to growth into his image. All good things, right?
Because of this potentially positive relationship between growth in knowledge and growth in Christ, it should come as no surprise that Scripture consistently commends Christian learning. A few examples are worth noting.
So learning about the Christian faith is both a necessity and, if met with the obedience of faith, a joy that makes possible a deeper love for God and a deeper relationship with his Son. That’s the good side of the two-edged sword called knowledge.
The bad side? Apart from the obedience of faith – that is, apart from the Holy Spirit, personally living as Lord of one’s life – mere knowledge brings the wrath of condemnation. (Harsh? Yes…but also true.) Moreover, greater knowledge may bring greater wrath. Luke 12:47-48 is our warning:
Given the preceding verses, the twofold temptation is (1) to run away from learning about God and (2) to dismiss the question of who we ought to be. However, to do that would be not just a mistake, but a sin. We cannot love what we do not know, and because we were made to love God (indeed we are commanded to love God), we are thereby obligated to know Him more and more.
It must be said that the problem with knowledge is not knowledge in itself, but rather knowledge apart from the obedience of faith. That’s because mere “knowledge puffs up, but love builds up.” (1 Corinthians 8:1) Knowledge (even knowledge of God) tempts us to arrogance, but ultimately God “will put an end to the pride of the arrogant.” (Isaiah 13:11)
So it’s certain: knowledge of the Christian faith is a two-edged sword. It may bring great joy, or great misery. The difference depends on whether such knowledge is met with the obedience of faith. Said differently, it depends on whether the one with such knowledge receives not mere knowledge, but also the Gift of the Holy Spirit.
So I guess the final question that must be asked is how one gets this Spirit. And to that question, Jesus answers clearly: “If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will the heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask Him.” (Luke 11:13)
Thus, truly Christian learning is a prayerful enterprise. It isn’t merely an academic endeavor born out of vain curiosity and conducted in arrogance. No, it is rather a prayer born out of humility and led by Christ’s Spirit of grace and truth. (John 1:14) Its ultimate end? Greater love for God.
It seems that Christian learning is a two-edged sword. The good side? Knowledge of God may persuade us to love God, and it may persuade us to follow his Son. Moreover, growth in the knowledge of God may lead to growth in love for Him, and growth in the knowledge of Christ may lead to growth into his image. All good things, right?
Because of this potentially positive relationship between growth in knowledge and growth in Christ, it should come as no surprise that Scripture consistently commends Christian learning. A few examples are worth noting.
- Acts 2:42 records how the earliest Christians “devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching.”
- Colossians 1:28 speaks of “teaching everyone in all wisdom, so that we may present everyone mature in Christ.”
- Hebrews 5:11-14 rebukes those who have been lax in their learning and have become “dull in understanding.” They need “milk” instead of “solid food”, much like “an infant, unskilled in the word of righteousness.”
So learning about the Christian faith is both a necessity and, if met with the obedience of faith, a joy that makes possible a deeper love for God and a deeper relationship with his Son. That’s the good side of the two-edged sword called knowledge.
The bad side? Apart from the obedience of faith – that is, apart from the Holy Spirit, personally living as Lord of one’s life – mere knowledge brings the wrath of condemnation. (Harsh? Yes…but also true.) Moreover, greater knowledge may bring greater wrath. Luke 12:47-48 is our warning:
- “That slave who knew what his master wanted, but did not prepare himself or do what was wanted, will receive a severe beating. But the one who did not know and did what deserved a beating will receive a light beating. From everyone to whom much has been given, much will be required; and from the one to whom much has been entrusted, even more will be demanded.”
Given the preceding verses, the twofold temptation is (1) to run away from learning about God and (2) to dismiss the question of who we ought to be. However, to do that would be not just a mistake, but a sin. We cannot love what we do not know, and because we were made to love God (indeed we are commanded to love God), we are thereby obligated to know Him more and more.
It must be said that the problem with knowledge is not knowledge in itself, but rather knowledge apart from the obedience of faith. That’s because mere “knowledge puffs up, but love builds up.” (1 Corinthians 8:1) Knowledge (even knowledge of God) tempts us to arrogance, but ultimately God “will put an end to the pride of the arrogant.” (Isaiah 13:11)
So it’s certain: knowledge of the Christian faith is a two-edged sword. It may bring great joy, or great misery. The difference depends on whether such knowledge is met with the obedience of faith. Said differently, it depends on whether the one with such knowledge receives not mere knowledge, but also the Gift of the Holy Spirit.
So I guess the final question that must be asked is how one gets this Spirit. And to that question, Jesus answers clearly: “If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will the heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask Him.” (Luke 11:13)
Thus, truly Christian learning is a prayerful enterprise. It isn’t merely an academic endeavor born out of vain curiosity and conducted in arrogance. No, it is rather a prayer born out of humility and led by Christ’s Spirit of grace and truth. (John 1:14) Its ultimate end? Greater love for God.
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