Happy Halloween, er, Reformation Day!

I love October, and it's only natural that my favorite month is capped by my favorite holiday: Halloween (All Hallows' [Saints'] Evening). As a child and to this day, I love tales of ancient British mythology, of ghouls and ghosts and druids and banshees, of eerie lights and howls in the night. But this day has an even greater dearness to me.

On this day, October 31, in 1517 an Augustinian monk named Martin Luther took advantage of the All Saints' (Hallows') Day traffic in Wittenberg, Germany, and nailed his "95 theses" to the cathedral door in Wittenberg, as sort of public bulletin board. His theses regarded the unbiblical nature the current practices of the Roman Catholic Church, namely, in regards to the sale of indulgences. Indulgences were these slips of paper that were sold as tickets to get yourself or a loved one out of years of purgatory--all for a few Deutschmarks or seeing some holy relic! As Luther pondered St. Paul's message to the Romans, esp. 1.16-17, he "beat importunately upon Paul" wondering what it meant that "in [the gospel] the righteousness of [or from] God is revealed." Alas! He discovered that a man's right standing before God is dependent on God's declaration of him as accepted on account of the perfect standing of his Son Jesus Christ, whose sufficient merits are imputed to us through faith. No indulgences, no allegiance to the papacy, no visitation of relics were needed; indeed, such are evil. Luther saw the need for reform, and made it known upon the cathedral door in Wittenberg.

Luther once wrote the following in a 1521 letter to Philip Melancthon, another 16th-century Reformer:
If you are a preacher of mercy, do not preach an imaginary but the true mercy. If the mercy is true, you must therefore bear the true, not an imaginary sin. God does not save those who are only imaginary sinners. Be a sinner, and sin strongly, but trust in Christ more strongly still, and rejoice in Christ who is the victor over sin, death, and the world. We will commit sins while we are here, for this life is not a place where justice abides. We, however, says Peter (2 Peter 3.13) are looking forwared to a new heaven and a new earth where justice will reign. It suffices that through God's glory we have recognized the Lamb who takes away the sin of the world. No sin can separate us from Him, even if we were to kill or commit adultery thousands of times each day. Do you think such an exalted Lamb paid merely a small price with a meager sacrifice for our sins? Pray hard for you are quite a sinner.

Duh, we were never meant to be perfect! This world is a fallen place wherein we all need restoration and redemption. Though we are far too gone to fix ourselves by our own efforts through good deeds, pentitential prayers, flaggelation, self-aggrandization, sacrifices, or enlightened philosophies, we have a sure hope: We have been purchased for God with the imperishable, precious blood of Jesus Christ, on account of which we are now forgiven, accepted, given Christ's own righteousness, and sealed in the Holy Spirit (Eph 1.3-14; 2 Cor 5.21). We no longer need to fulfill the righteous demands of God's law, for Christ has become to us Israel, fulfilling God's demands and being perfected through what he suffered. He has taken our sinful natures in exchange for his own righteousness before God. It's finished, indeed.

So when you grumble at your roommates, fail to pray for your family, made a snide remark to someone, feel ungrateful that you can know God, or have sex with your girlfriend/boyfriend, know this: You are a sinner under God's divine wrath, but Jesus has borne your punishment so fully that all that is left to you is God's mercy, love, and acceptance. Run to him, cling to him, embrace this glorious, comforting truth!

* * *

I love what Dietrich Bonhoeffer writes in regard to sin and confession in the Christian fellowship:
The pious fellowship permits no one to be a sinner. So everybody must conceal his sin from himself and from the fellowship. We dare not be sinners. Many Christians are unthinkably horrified when a real sinner is suddenly discovered among the righteous. So we remain alone with our sin, living in lies and hypocrisy. The fact is that we are sinners!

But it is the grace of the Gospel, which is so hard for the pious to understand, that it confronts us with the truth and says: You are a sinner, a great, desperate sinner; now come, as the sinner that you are, to God who loves you. He wants you as you are; He does not want anything from you, a sacrifice, a work; He wants you alone. . . . You do not have to go on lying to yourself and your brothers, as if you were without sin; you can dare to be a sinner. Thank God for that; He loves the sinner but He hates sin" (Life Together, pp. 110-111).

For a related article on "the righteousness of God", see here.

Spam

Do any of you know how to prevent getting spammed in my comments? Every post of mine seems to get spammed.

Zechariah 2: God's glory will dwell with us -- so return to him!

Okay, Mollie, I'm going to follow suit and put up some lengthy post outlining the message of a biblical passage. My choice: Zechariah's third night vision (2.1-13). In 1.7-17 we see Zechariah receive a message from God that he is angry with the nations who took their punishment of his people too far. God is passionate for his people and will deal out retribution and restore his people and their city Jerusalem, blessing it with his presence. And to pave the way for such blessing, he calls his people to return to him (1.1-6).

Some commentators break this up into a vision (2.1-5) and a resulting oracle delivered by Zechariah (2.6-13). I beg to differ (along iwth Walter Kaiser and John Calvin): its entirety is in the vision, and the "me" of vv. 8, 9, and 11 is the "another angel" of v. 3, that is, the Angel of the LORD (1. 12), who throughout the OT is a manifestation of the preincarnate Son of God. Basically, vv. 1-5 and 10-13 are a continued message, with vv. 6-9 seriving as a parenthesis concerning the fate of Babylon, hearkening back to its promised ruin in 1.15, 18-21.

VERSES 1-5, 10-13
Zechariah sees a man carrying a surveyor's line, who is planning on measuring Jerusalem. When the Jews returned from exile beginning in 538 B.C. (this message was delivered to the people in 519 B.C.), the city was in shambles--the temple included. The people believed that this meant their complete rejection by God; even Jesus' disciples thought the temple's destruction would mean the end of the world (see Matt 24.1-3). The people despaired when they began rebuilding the temple and the city because of how small it was and because of the ever-present oppression of neighboring peoples (Ezra 3.12; 4.1-5; Hag 2.3). The anel sends a message to the man telling him to drop any thoughts about measuring the city. In other words, "Don't look at the city's present size, however small it may be right now. Don't look to the current visible situation, but to the glory to come!" "Jerusalem will be inhabited without walls [lit. like unwalled villages] because of the multitude of men and cattle within it." Why? Because God promises to be a "wall of fire around her" and her glory within.

In vv. 10-11 God declares that in the time of Jerusalem's restoration "many nations will join themselves to the LORD in that day and will become My people. Then I will dwell in your midst." From numerous other places in Scripture referring to the post-exilic restoration of Jerusalem, this influx of people isn't limited to the Jews coming back from being scattered to the four winds in the diaspora (v. 6), but also that persons from many peoples will join themselves to God and enter into covenant relationship with him (Isa 11.10-16; 49.19-20; 56.6-8). We see this fulfillment not in some distant "millenium," but right here and how in the building of the church. We can see that the "multitude" of v. 4 is reflected in John's heavenly vision of the church in Rev 7.9-10. And the parallel account of the restoration of Israel followed by the destruction of Babylon (Gog and Magog) in Ezekiel 38 (also Rev 19.17-21; 20.7-10) clearly portrays the church era. Why? We see in Ezekiel a great eschatological battle following the close of the "millenium" in which Gog (Babylon) battles the "land of unwalled villages" (38.11; see Zech 2.4). The battles described in Rev 19.17-21 and 20.7-10 are one and the same, both being records of the downfall of Babylon/Gog, the worldly and spiritual powers set up against the kingdom of Christ.*

Such ruin upon Babylon will come "after glory" (Zech 2.6), that is, after the time of glory promised in v. 5. So it will come after God gathers a multitude of people from among the nations to become his partners in the new covenant (cf. the gathering of the elect from the four winds, Matt 24.31).

The Jews thought too small; they looked to physical walls and boundaries. Were they not just as blind to the inclusion of the Gentiles as well, believing that there are barriers of ethnicity preventing their inclusion? This is exactly what God is calling them to reject here. City walls were not only for defining boundaries; their chief goal was protection from enemies. We need to see things from a God-sized perspective in which the "GOD-of-the-Angel-Armies" (Msg.) is in control of things and is working to bring about his glory among the nations of the world. He cannot and will not be thwarted by anyone in bringing people to himself and slaying all physical and spiritual powers set up against his kingdom--a verdict already cast and accomplished in the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. Yet without the eyes of faith, all we can see is opposition. But God promises us much more: he is creating an expansive people no longer defined by earthly walls and borders, in need of the protection of the weapons of man ("Jerusalem will be a city without walls"). On the contrary, his people are now marked by the fire of his purifying and protecting presence, namely, that of his Holy Spirit ("I will be a wall of fire around her, and I will be the glory in her midst"; cf Isa 4.2-6; Acts 2.3).

Let us dream big and trust in the LORD of hosts in bringing even the most unexpected people to himself. He makes no limits to whom he can and will include, and his promised protection of an impenetrable wall of fire is with us.

VERSES 6-9
God here calls his people to flee Bablyon because of (1) the promise of blessing upon Judah (1.16-17; 2.4-5, 10-13) and (2) the coming judgment of Babylon. The God who is "exceedingly jealous" for his people is aroused from his holy dwelling, irate against those who have sought to harm the "apple of His eye." Babylon's destruction never did totally occur yet: Cyrus king of Persia overthrew it in 539 B.C., and Darius of Persia later chastized it severely for its rebellions (521), but destruction was hardly the right word -- at least nothing like what happened to Jerusalem. The reality is that the true judgment of Babylon is yet to come by the sword of Christ the Victor (Rev 19.17-21). So God calls to his people: "Ho, Zion! Escape, you who are living with the daughter of Babylon."

We see this same call echoed in Rev 18.4-8, where we see Babylon as representative of sin and rebellion against God. In the 6th century B.C., life in Babylon and Persia was more prosperous than in the province of Yehud and the frail city of Jerusalem. Not only that, but a long, tiring journey was required to make the trip back home. We, too, are called to leave our patterns of sin and return to the dwelling and presence of God, our hearts' true home. This often comes with a loud wake-up call of "Ho there!" (Zech 2.6; Isa 55.1) or "Awake, O sleeper!" (Eph 5.14). The promise stands for us to enter into relationship to God through faith and repentance: "Return to me, and I will return to you" (Zech 1.3).

- - -

*This, therefore, reveals that the "thousand years" of Rev 20.1-6 are actually the present age inaugurated by the life of Jesus and culminated by his second advent. This stance is known as "amillenialism" or "realized millenialism."

The cross in ministry

God's word is living and active indeed. Despite being spoken through his prophet Haggai in 520 B.C., his words are still having an impact on me.

Turkey was once where Christianity was officially given acceptance by the Roman Empire under Emperor Constantine. Amazing churches such as the Hagia Sophia were built here, and Jesus Christ was known and worshiped here for over a millenium. All of the churches to whom John wrote his apocalypse were here. Yet nowadays it stands as a nation of 72 million people, most of whom are cultural Muslims, with only 3500 or so known Turkish or Kurdish believers. "Who is left among you who saw this temple in its former glory? And how do you see it now? Does it not seem to you like nothing in comparison?" (Hag 2.3).

It's a little disappointing to me to work here and see relatively little fruit. I know it's really early in the year, but still. I start making comparisons to ministry in the States, where so many of the barriers--most notably not living in an Islamic culture--are gone. Here churches have maybe fifty people.

God sent Haggai to give hope to people who were engaged in the Lord's work and worship in rebuilding the temple. Yet when they looked at how difficult their task was and how much smaller and less glorious the newer incarnation of the temple was, they were saddened and in despair (2.3; cf Ezra 3.12). But could it also be that they dreamt of being where the glory and action were? That's much easier than faithfully trusting God's call and provision regardless of how insignificant the work may appear.

Luther was right when he summed up Christian living as centered on a theology of the cross, not a theology of glory. Such applies here: (1) The life that embraces the cross embraces shame in the eyes of the world. While some pastors have megachurches--not a bad thing at all in itself--we instead get seven students to show up to a weekly "YY" meeting. Our work may be humble and unnoticed now, but so goes the cross. Yet glory will come later (Hag 2.6-9)! (2) This work also requires the cross in another way, namely, dying on my own. I want things to be easier, more comfortable, and more fruitful, but I don't get that. I remember back to the summer of 2003 when I surrendered and committed to coming here. It gave me a lot of peace. Now Christ calls me to take up my cross and die again. But only herein does he say I will find true, abundant life (Luke 9.23-24).

"Therefore, my beloved brethren, be steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, knowing that your toil is not in vain in the Lord" (1 Cor 15.58).

Our God is a consuming . . . summer breeze?

Over the weekend God has continued to teach me more--but not what my flesh desires. I've been rather frustrated with my time here in Turkey so far. I miss a lot of the comforts of home, the ease of conversing in English with no difficulties in comprehension or communication, and the fact that things make sense. I haven't really been able to have much in the way of opportunities to share the gospel so far, and I'm really itching for that. It seems like everyone I can actually talk with is a committed Muslim who stops at the belief that the Bible has been changed and is no longer trustworthy (prophecies foretelling the coming of Muhammad notwithstanding). Add all that together and it leaves me frustrated and angry with this place.

Elijah, similarly irate with the idolatry and stubbornness around him, fled to Mount Horeb and vented his frustrations to God (1 Kings 19). I think he wanted God to send his fire to consume his enemies and put an end to his sources of frustration, as he had done on Mount Carmel not long before (1 Kings 18). Yet God does not come in a violent wind, an earthquake, or fire, but rather in a gentle blowing (or "still, small voice", KJV).

Elijah obviously didn't get it: he repeated his complaints to God. Yet in showing himself not in fierce judgment but in a quiet whisper, in gentleness and restraint, God reveals his mercy to Elijah. He would've been fully justified in destroying the ungodly, but it wasn't the time. So Elijah had to carry on his mission for the rest of his life, even appointing another to carry on his prophetic work after his departure from this earth.

God is restraining his judgment for the sake of salvation, not out of weakness or ignorance (2 Peter 3.9). He is a God who has incredible compassion and wills that all men hear the gospel and respond in repentance and faith. Duh, this is why I'm here in the first place! It's precisely because his mercy is true and because he is full of compassion and love that I wish for others to know him. But instead I want him to nuke this place so I can go home. I want to hear, "You can go home now; I'm going to cut off these people." It's amazing how stupid I've become in taking my own salvation for granted. After all, if God had not been patient with America and with me, I too would be subject to the fullness of his wrath.

Lift up your heads

World Wars I & II.
Nuclear weaponry.
September 11, 2001.
The tsunami.
Hurricane Katrina.
Guatemalan landslides.
Pakistani earthquake.

What do these all have in common? Three things:

(1) Our world is fallen and sinful. We cannot know for sure whether or not these things happened as a result of sin--indeed, calamity often does not (see Luke 13.2,4). But we do know that much of this futility and destruction we experience is the direct consequence of our sinfulness (cf Gen 3.17-19).

(2) The end of the world as we know it is drawing ever nearer. Not even the Son of Man himself knows the day when he will be revealed from heaven with his mighty angels in flaming fire (2 Thess 1.7). Yet he himself said that these last days will be marked with natural disasters and wars: "Nation will rise against nation and kingdom against kingdom and there will be great earthquakes, and in various places plagues and famines . . . and on the earth dismay among the nations, in perplexity at the roaring of the sea and waves" (Luke 21.10-11,25). Now I'm not one at all for Tim Lahaye novels and all that kind of time-wasting crap--c'mon, I'm a covenant amill--but I do know that Jesus has linked such events inextricably with his second coming (Luke 21.26-28). "When these things begin to take place, straighten up and lift up your heads, because your redemption is drawing near!"

(3) Because we live in a fallen world full of sin and unbelief, Christ will come "dealing out retribution to those who do not know God and to those who do not obey the gospel of our Lord Jesus. These will pay the penalty of eternal destruction, away from the presence of the Lord and from the glory of His power" (2 Thess 1.8-9). Maybe we haven't yet been affected by terrorist attacks or natural disasters, but those who do not repent and embrace the risen Christ will all likewise perish (Luke 13.1-5)!

(I'm sorry that this isn't exactly an entertaining post, but it's just plain true and has caught my attention even more in light of the 54,000+ deaths in Pakistan. Is it mere coincidence that such horrendous things have been happening with increasing frequency?)

"A Poem on Law & Gospel" by Ralph Erskine, 1745

The law supposing I have all,
Does ever for perfection call;
The gospel suits my total want,
And all the law can seek does grant.

The law could promise life to me,
If my obedience perfect be;
But grace does promise life upon
My Lord's obedience alone.

The law says, Do, and life you'll win;
But grace says, Live, for all is done;
The former cannot ease my grief,
The latter yields me full relief.

The law will not abate a mite,
The gospel all the sum will quit;
There God in thret'nings is array'd
But here in promises display'd.

The law excludes not boasting vain,
But rather feeds it to my bane;
But gospel grace allows no boasts,
Save in the King, the Lord of Hosts.

The law brings terror to molest,
The gospel gives the weary rest;
The one does flags of death display,
The other shows the living way.

The law's a house of bondage sore,
The gospel opens prison doors;
The first me hamer'd in its net,
The last at freedom kindly set.

An angry God the law reveal'd
The gospel shows him reconciled;
By that I know he was displeased,
By this I see his wrath appeased.

The law still shows a fiery face,
The gospel shows a throne of grace;
There justice rides alone in state,
But here she takes the mercy-seat.

Lo! in the law Jehovah dwells,
But Jesus is conceal'd;
Whereas the gospel's nothing else
But Jesus Christ reveal'd.

Leadership, Jesus-style

Everywhere I go, I see the face of perhaps the greatest political and societal revolutionary/reformer of the past few centuries: Mustafa Kemal Ataturk. Not only did he lead Turkey to independence from Greece and other foreign powers in 1923, but he instituted many sweeping changes that brought Turkey from being an ineffective and obscure Near Eastern agricultural country to being a modern force with which to be reckoned in both Europe and Asia. Changing the Turkish alphabet, banning Islamic rule, changing people's normal attire, and setting up a quasi-democratic government (that is, until the military decides the country is heading in the wrong direction and intervenes or performs yet another violent coup because they're apparently much wiser than the people) are but a few of his accomplishments.

Yet while I look at his picture, I see someone esteemed greatly in the eyes of man, not on account of his humility, meekness, or peacefulness, but on account of his military conquests, intelligence, resourcefulness, and charisma. Yet in the eyes of Jesus, true authority and greatness looks far different: "Whoever would be great among you must be your servant, and whoever would be first among you must be slave of all. For even the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many" (Mark 10.43-45). Why are these such hard words, when indeed they're the only ones that truly make sense?

In one of his sermons on leadership lessons from Nehemiah, my pastor said that no one can consider himself to be a leader unless he has people actually following him. Being a leader--whether in a place of business, the government, civic office, classroom, church, or household--demands that people trust you and want to follow you because they know they will be cared for and have their needs met. As noted by philosopher Blaise Pascal, one's every decision is for the sake of gaining and increasing his happiness; even those followers of Hitler or Pol Pot acted thus. This demands that leaders serve those under them. This is the reason why the roles and responsibilities of husbands, fathers, and bosses can really work (Eph 5.22 - 6.9). And because we've all been entrusted with the guidance and care of one another within the body of Christ, we are all called to be the servant of all.

In his book Life Together, Dietrich Bonhoeffer sums up the need for loving service to our brothers as the prerequisite for the highest of services: speaking the Word of God to one another:

The speaking of that Word is beset with infinite perils. If it is not accompanied by worthy listening, how can it really be the right word for another person? If it is contradicted by one's own lack of active helpfulness, how can it be a convincing and sincere word? If it issues, not from a spirit of bearing and forebearing, but from impatience and the desire to force its acceptance, how can it be the liberating and healing word? (p. 104)

Why is this so hard for us? What is in our human nature that so quickly dismisses these words of Jesus so that we can get on with boosting our egos and receiving praise from others? Jesus clearly warns us that seeking honor from men hinders our faith (John 5.44). And wherein does our faith lie? Is it not indeed in a God who condescended and shook off his rights in order to get whipped, mocked, hung from a wooden beam, and fed vinegar? The only profitable faith lies fixed upon the cross of Christ, and thus the life of faith must equally be an embracing of this cross in daily life. Let us be servants to all.

A [long] walk to remember

I've been studying the messages God sent to his people through Haggai, and I've been learning some great stuff. It's highly recommended. The basic premise of the book is this: the beginnings of the remnant of God's people have returned to Jerusalem at the decree of Cyrus, King of Persia (538 B.C.) and began to work on the temple foundation. But in the face of foreign opposition and skewed, self-directed priorities, the temple work is halted for sixteen years. Haggai comes to arouse people from their slumber in 520 B.C. (1.1-11).

In the second chapter, Haggai is called to deliver a message on the final day of the Feast of Tabernacles, which commemorated the presence of God and his provision during the years in the desert returning from exile in Egypt. The people would have also remembered that Solomon's glorious temple was dedicated during the Feast. In the midst of the temple rebuilding (again), the people look around them at the smaller temple foundation and weep in despair (2.3). God's voice enters with this message: "Be strong, all you people of the land, declares the LORD. Work, for I am with you, declares the LORD of hosts, according to the covenant that I made with you when you came out of Egypt. My Spirit remains in your midst. Fear not" (2.4f).

With the LORD of hosts' promise of being with his people to continue the temple rebuilding--a message given during the Feast's remembrance of the exodus--God calls his people back to Sinai. Exodus 25 - 40 is all about the design and construction of the tabernacle, where God would manifest his presence among his people on their pilgrimage through the desert. The account gives extreme attention to detail, pointing toward God's holiness and perfection.

Then comes the sordid affair with the golden calf (Ex 32). The proverbial shit hits the fan, Moses and God both get pissed, and the tabernacle construction account is halted--much like the people's failures to rebuilt the temple in Haggai 1. What, of all things, does Moses plead for? God's presence (33.12-16; 34.9). And Yahweh grants it and seals his promised presence with a covenant and the promise to do miraculous things through their hands (34.10). The tabernacle's work resumes under God's promised presence. In Haggai, despite the people's complacency and mis- (read: man-) directed priorities, God promises to be with them and stirs them up to build a glorious temple.

So why am I explaining all this? The temple is a place where God is to be worshiped by people who see the manifestation and representation of his holiness. It is where he dwells with his people and makes himself known, where he draws people to hope, healing, joy, and restoration. All of the directives given in Exodus point toward this. If the temple and God's workings were all about man, God could have simply destroyed Israel in the desert and wouldn't care. But they're not. They're about God and his pleasure in his kingdom, in being worshiped, in being known, in restoring the works of his hands (Hag 1.8). Therefore at Moses' request he grants mercy upon rebellious Israel and promises his presence and blessing in order to continue the temple work. The same goes for the building of Solomon's temple (1 Kings 8) and Zerubbabel's (Hag 1.13; 2.4f).

In other words, God's desire for worship and pleasure is the basis of his mercy. Because God is God-focused, he has mercy. This thread runs throughout Ezekiel. Let us rejoice! As surely as God is for his glory, he is merciful (Ex 33.18; 34.6f). Paul caught this as well: our salvation and blessing is not on account of us, but on account of "the good pleasure of His will, to the praise of the glory of His grace, by which He made us accepted in the beloved" (Eph 1.5f, NKJV). And so we can praise God that as surely as his desire is for his praise, so too can we be assured of his mercy and gracious blessings upon all who turn to him and seek him wholeheartedly.

On a related note, Haggai 2.1-9 teaches us to focus not on the present, but on the Presence. How often we are tempted to say, "Man, I wish _____ were like it was back then"! I am often tempted to despair when I look to my sin or lack of zeal for the Lord. Yet God calls us to focus not on the past nor our present weakness, but on the resources given us through his Spirit and confirmed to us through his Word. He promises his presence on account of his mercy, which has been displayed and accomplished once for all upon the cross and shown us in our baptism and the supper. As baptism shows us a physical washing, the Spirit confirms to us that our washing in Christ is just as certain. And as we partake in the bread and wine, the Spirit assures us that the new covenant in Christ's body and blood is just as real, bringing the promise that his Spirit is within and among us to bring us and the work of our hands to established glory (Ps 90.17; 2 Cor 1.21-22).

Need

I've got other things I'd love to write about, namely, some convicting and strengthening lessons from the messages God delivered through Haggai. But after looking at PostSecret, I want to cry at how much this dying, broken world needs Jesus. We are so fucked up, and the only cure is knowing the healing rivers of the depths of God's love. Please read it, cry, and pray. Thank God if these confessions aren't yours right now. If they are, know that God is waiting for you with open arms. Who knows, maybe you can even help someone else find rest in him with some kinds words or talking over a cup of tea on a rainy day...especially when every day is a rainy day for some people.

"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light." (Matthew 11.28-30)

(I make no apologies for saying "fucked up." It was what came to mind and is how I can express how dire our situation is apart from the rescuing Christ.)

"If only we were like the NT church"

Ahh...I believe this may be the first of many posts concerning God's loving correction and reproof of me, calling me into Christlikeness is some currently unwelcome ways--or at least unwelcome according to my flesh.

In July I was warned that "when you go on STINT, all your dirty laundry comes out." It's about that time, folks. I'm a selfish, cynical prick whose main goal is to look out for Number One. I snap at my roommates for playing video games, I take offense at their suggestions on improving Bible study, and I hold total double-standards for cleanliness in this house. And yet we fight to be honest with one another, voice our concerns and irritations, and pray for one another to know Jesus and be healed by him. Who is this scraggly bunch of nitpicking, easily irked men? Is this, dare I say, the body of Christ?

If you would have asked me what my ideal of Christian fellowship is before living with four other believers my senior year at MSU, and then living with three believers this past year, and now living with four more in our apartment in Istanbul, you'd never get an answer that matches my experience. I want kumbayah and the fellowship of earthly saints; what I get instead is an amalgamation of really vocal slobs whose only sainthood is that of Christ in heaven. Let's admit it: Christian community is less "peace like a river" and more like, as Donald Miller calls it in Blue Like Jazz, "living with freaks" (yours truly included).*

A wise man named Dietrich once wrote on community and men like me: "The serious Christian, set down for the first [or, in my case, third] time in a Christian community, is likely to bring with him a very definite idea of what Christian life together should be and to try to realize it. But God's grace speedily shatters such dreams."** He goes on to say, "He who loves his dream of a community more than the Christian community itself becomes a destroyer of the latter". Ouch. But it's true; we aren't called to love our imagination or our emotions, but rather people chosen by God from before all worlds for assemblage into the family of his redeemed (Eph 1.4).

Brother- or sisterhood in the faith is not something that increases or grows as we know more of Christ and bear the fruits of his Spirit. As soon as my brother Jordan was born in 1984, we were brothers. He didn't progress into my brother; he was born and that was that. It wasn't my choice to have this poopy little kid who would suck my parents' attention away from me, but God placed us under the same roof. It's much the same with spiritual family. At the moment of our justification, we all were placed into the same body. Dietrich goes on: "Christian brotherhood is not an ideal which we must realize; it is a reality created by God in Christ in which we may participate. The more clearly we learn to recognize that the ground and strength and promise of all our fellowship is in Jesus Christ alone, the more serenely shall we think of our fellowship and pray and hope for it."

On top of that, I must say I'm grateful that not only has God given to me four brothers in my everyday life, but also a wonderful new church here at the Union Church of Istanbul (a.k.a. Dutch Chapel).

* Donald Miller, Blue Like Jazz (Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 2003)
** Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Life Together (New York: Harper & Row, 1954)