. . . so he kills babies? Apparently this is the line of thinking from some frontrunners within the (Episcopal) Church of England who believe that it is ethically permissible to allow severely ill or disabled newborns to die, as you can read here. (Also argued for is the consideration of financial cost of preserving the lives of desperately ill babies.)
Part of the statement by Bishop Tom Butler of Southwark includes "long premature" newborn babies. Guess what, Bishop: I was one such child. When my mother was pregnant with me in 1981, I had to be delivered by c-section eight weeks early due to Toxemia complications. As a result, I was only 2 pounds, 7 ounces and 15 inches at birth. Far from ideally healthy and at a time when few premature infants survived, I had to spend two months in an incubator. My skin was nearly translucent, and my heart even stopped beating once. Thank you, Mom and Dad, for choosing to trust "the Father of all compassion" (2 Cor. 1:3) to restore me to health and to provide the money needed to keep me in an incubator for two months. Thank you, caring Governor and Preserver, for miraculously keeping me alive and for providing the skilled doctors and nurses in the neonatal unit at the University of Michigan Women's Hospital.
Butler is quoted as saying, "There may be occasions where, for a Christian, compassion will override the 'rule' that life should be preserved." Who are we to say what "compassion" is? Are we to assume that the Church can import its own a priori definitions of love and compassion rather than seeking what God himself defines and commands in regard to them in his Word? I think of the blind man in John 9 whose life was not a biological mistake. Jesus insisted that his blindness happened "so that the works of God might be displayed in him" (v. 3).
Bishop Butler's submission also says that "The principle of humility asks that members of the medical profession restrain themselves from claiming greater powers to heal than they can deliver. It [also] asks that parents restrain themselves from demanding the impossible." While it's true that none of us inherently have a right to demand medical cures--all fruits of modern medicine and acts of healing are purely gracious gifts of God's kingdom breaking in upon an otherwise decayed and ill world--true humility does not give up hope. The humility of which Butler speaks is one that is full of pride, considering only man's desires for convenience and money and "compassion." It's a humility that trusts only in one's own less-than-guaranteed medical prowess. But true humility acknowledges our lack of control and power and instead turns us in faith to seek the merciful intervention of God Almighty, believing that he can indeed do the impossible (Matt. 19:26; Luke 1:37).
Sunday, November 19, 2006
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
Just as Christ also loved the church
Last Friday night I was at a cafe with my friends Sara and Sarah, and we got on to talking about baptism. I was asked, "What exactly does baptism do?" I spent probably half an hour trying to explain the manifold things that happen to us at our baptism, but the question itself was never directly answered: What does baptism do?
Despite my fuddled attempts at answering her question, it turns out the question was never the right one to begin with: baptism doesn't do anything for us. Rather, it is God who acts for us graciously therein. Part of even my own confusion is the thinking of the sacraments as a "means of grace," as if grace were some sort of impersonal substance channeled through water or wine. No, grace is a personal attribute of God himself, a way he acts to us in undeserved love, mercy, and faithfulness at the font and table.
In his recent book God of Promise*, Michael Horton explains why we can rightly view the sacraments as something more than just an empty sign alone in which we merely remember a previous act of God or recommit our own faith. "In the [Lord's] supper we have to do with the signs and the things they signify. The ring in a wedding does not merely symbolize a union. At least according to the traditional language, we say, 'With this ring I thee wed.' If this is true in a humanly devised ritual, how much more so in a covenant ceremony in which God's promise has a seal of his own authority attached to it" (p. 168).
Granted, his a fortiori (from the lesser to the greater) logic fails somewhat here, but what a beautiful picture indeed! Just as the ring -- which remains a ring but no longer only a ring -- is an action of the groom to actually wed his bride and promise to her his everlasting love and commitment, so too does God in our baptismal waters and in the meal himself pledge to us his everlasting love and fidelity to his covenant of grace. We can choose either to ignore the ring or take it off in the car before going to work or to the night club, or we can look at it as a most precious gift and know the wondrous reality that a union exists and our Groom will forever be faithful.
"Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ also loved the church and gave Himself up for her, so that He might sanctify her, having cleansed her by the washing of water [almost undeniably a reference to baptism] with the word. . . . 'For this reason a man shall leave his father and mother and shall be joined to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh.' This mystery is great [Can we see here a hint at our baptismal faith-union to Christ? - cf. Romans 6:3-7 and Galatians 3:27]; but I am speaking with reference to Christ and the church" (see Ephesians 5:22-33).
________________________________
*Michael Horton, God of Promise: Introducting Covenant Theology (Grand Rapids, Mich.: Baker Books, 2006).
Despite my fuddled attempts at answering her question, it turns out the question was never the right one to begin with: baptism doesn't do anything for us. Rather, it is God who acts for us graciously therein. Part of even my own confusion is the thinking of the sacraments as a "means of grace," as if grace were some sort of impersonal substance channeled through water or wine. No, grace is a personal attribute of God himself, a way he acts to us in undeserved love, mercy, and faithfulness at the font and table.
In his recent book God of Promise*, Michael Horton explains why we can rightly view the sacraments as something more than just an empty sign alone in which we merely remember a previous act of God or recommit our own faith. "In the [Lord's] supper we have to do with the signs and the things they signify. The ring in a wedding does not merely symbolize a union. At least according to the traditional language, we say, 'With this ring I thee wed.' If this is true in a humanly devised ritual, how much more so in a covenant ceremony in which God's promise has a seal of his own authority attached to it" (p. 168).
Granted, his a fortiori (from the lesser to the greater) logic fails somewhat here, but what a beautiful picture indeed! Just as the ring -- which remains a ring but no longer only a ring -- is an action of the groom to actually wed his bride and promise to her his everlasting love and commitment, so too does God in our baptismal waters and in the meal himself pledge to us his everlasting love and fidelity to his covenant of grace. We can choose either to ignore the ring or take it off in the car before going to work or to the night club, or we can look at it as a most precious gift and know the wondrous reality that a union exists and our Groom will forever be faithful.
"Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ also loved the church and gave Himself up for her, so that He might sanctify her, having cleansed her by the washing of water [almost undeniably a reference to baptism] with the word. . . . 'For this reason a man shall leave his father and mother and shall be joined to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh.' This mystery is great [Can we see here a hint at our baptismal faith-union to Christ? - cf. Romans 6:3-7 and Galatians 3:27]; but I am speaking with reference to Christ and the church" (see Ephesians 5:22-33).
________________________________
*Michael Horton, God of Promise: Introducting Covenant Theology (Grand Rapids, Mich.: Baker Books, 2006).
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
Wine that gladdens the heart of man
Over the past month or so, the prophets' and psalmists' vivid descriptions of the fruits of God's realized kingdom have been standing out from my reading of the Old Testament. The Turkish word bereket -- abundance, plenitude, cornucopia, fecundity -- sums it up well. In the execution of his gracious reign God promises refreshing, life-giving rainshowers, fields golden with wheat, jars filled with wine to gladden people's hearts, trees whose limbs are bowed low with the weight of their fruits, tables spread with the choicest of foods. Particularly Psalms 84 and 104, Isaiah 25, 26, 41, 65, and Joel 2 and 3 have pointed me toward this.
"In that day the mountains will drip new wine,
and the hills will flow with milk;
all the ravines of Judah will run with water.
A fountain will flow out of the LORD's house
and will water the valley of acacias [a tree common to dry, arid climes]."
(Joel 3:18 NIV; see also 2:21-27)
Some may say that these are merely poetic images that serve to point us to some sort of spiritual reality beyond this creation. But when Jesus taught us to pray for our daily bread, he meant exactly that. "Bodily life is not disdainful," writes Dietrich Bonhoeffer. "Precisely for its sake God has given us his fellowship in Jesus Christ, so that we can live by him in this life and then also, of course, in the life to come" (Psalms, p. 44). We can and ought to pray for such things insofar as they turn us toward the Giver in dependence and gratitude.
But here's the tricky thing: this bereket belongs to the eschatological age of kingdom of God. On one hand, the kingdom in a present reality in which we live, as attested to St. Peter's use of Joel 2:28-32 in Acts 2 -- meaning that all these blessings are, in a way, our possession right now as firstfruits of the coming harvest. But that's just it: the full harvest has yet to come in. There is a way this will only be realized in the "new heavens and a new earth" for which we are still waiting (Isa. 65:17; 2 Pet. 3:11-13; Rev. 21:1; cf. Isa. 25:7-8).
So in what ways can we -- you, me, and anyone else belonging to God's redeemed -- expect, hope in, and pray for these type of rich bereket blessings in this earthly life? I surely do not want to expect less from our generous Lord than he wishes to provide, but at the same time I know that this world is fallen and we must live in the shadow of the Cross, passing through death into resurrection. Any thoughts would be greatly appreciated.
"In that day the mountains will drip new wine,
and the hills will flow with milk;
all the ravines of Judah will run with water.
A fountain will flow out of the LORD's house
and will water the valley of acacias [a tree common to dry, arid climes]."
(Joel 3:18 NIV; see also 2:21-27)
Some may say that these are merely poetic images that serve to point us to some sort of spiritual reality beyond this creation. But when Jesus taught us to pray for our daily bread, he meant exactly that. "Bodily life is not disdainful," writes Dietrich Bonhoeffer. "Precisely for its sake God has given us his fellowship in Jesus Christ, so that we can live by him in this life and then also, of course, in the life to come" (Psalms, p. 44). We can and ought to pray for such things insofar as they turn us toward the Giver in dependence and gratitude.
But here's the tricky thing: this bereket belongs to the eschatological age of kingdom of God. On one hand, the kingdom in a present reality in which we live, as attested to St. Peter's use of Joel 2:28-32 in Acts 2 -- meaning that all these blessings are, in a way, our possession right now as firstfruits of the coming harvest. But that's just it: the full harvest has yet to come in. There is a way this will only be realized in the "new heavens and a new earth" for which we are still waiting (Isa. 65:17; 2 Pet. 3:11-13; Rev. 21:1; cf. Isa. 25:7-8).
So in what ways can we -- you, me, and anyone else belonging to God's redeemed -- expect, hope in, and pray for these type of rich bereket blessings in this earthly life? I surely do not want to expect less from our generous Lord than he wishes to provide, but at the same time I know that this world is fallen and we must live in the shadow of the Cross, passing through death into resurrection. Any thoughts would be greatly appreciated.
Thursday, November 9, 2006
Ted Haggard
"I am of the flesh, sold into bondage to sin. . . . Wretched man that I am! Who will set me free from the body of this death?" (Romans 7:14, 24)
"The heart is more deceitful than all else and is desperately sick; who can understand it?" (Jeremiah 17:9)
It's sad to say, but we ought not be so surprised and shocked at the Ted Haggard ordeal. Appalled, yes; grieved, yes; desirous of change, yes; but surprised, no. You see, the real problem with Haggard lies within every one of us: it is ME and my sinful nature, as Tim Challies so stingingly observes here. Ave crux unica spes mea--Hail, O Cross, my sole hope!
"The heart is more deceitful than all else and is desperately sick; who can understand it?" (Jeremiah 17:9)
It's sad to say, but we ought not be so surprised and shocked at the Ted Haggard ordeal. Appalled, yes; grieved, yes; desirous of change, yes; but surprised, no. You see, the real problem with Haggard lies within every one of us: it is ME and my sinful nature, as Tim Challies so stingingly observes here. Ave crux unica spes mea--Hail, O Cross, my sole hope!
God's children will stand firm!
At a prayer meeting this past Tuesday morning, a man spoke on the Epistle of Saint Jude, which begins like this: "Beloved, while I was making every effort to write you about our common salvation, I felt the necessity to write to you appealing that you contend earnestly for the faith which was once for all handed down to the saints" (v. 3). Little did I know that later that day it would strike home.
Clarissa and I met up with a friend named "Rose" who came to faith last year after a two-year period of searching, coming to our church every weekend, and spending a lot of time with us. We rejoiced! But she then left for a nine-month internship in Italy, where apparently all she could find were unorthodox Catholic churches. One of the big questions haunting many people coming from an Islamic background is "Is Jesus really God himself and not just a prophet?" Yet the priests she spoke with in Italy told her that she was mistaken and that Jesus was not God, but rather the son of God. Whether or not it was a matter of semantics (i.e., by "God" they all meant "God the Father"), no priest can claim Jesus is not "God of God, Light of Light, very God of very God, begotten, not made, being of one substance with the Father, by whom all things were made" (Nicene Creed). Rose was rocked so far to where she said, "I don't know what to do; I'm not a Muslim anymore but I'm not a Christian." Who ordains these ministers?
If you know me, there are a few things that really set me on edge: when people conned or wronged, people who don't pull their weight and do their share of the work, and bad theology. So just when Clarissa and I were hoping to spend time with Rose rejoicing in the common salvation we together share, we found a need to contend for the faith. Saint Paul warns of people who distort the true faith, "whose talk will spread like gangrene" (or, as John Calvin translates, "their word will eat as doth a canker"). Such are "men who have gone astray from the truth . . . and they upset the faith of some" (2 Timothy 2:16-18).
But amidst these buffeting winds there is a sure hope: "Nevertheless, the firm foundation of God [possibly the church, who in 1 Timothy 3:15 is described as 'the pillar and foundation of the truth'] stands, having this seal, 'The Lord knows those who are His.' " Jude's greeting rings with the same beauty: "To those who are the called, beloved in God the Father, and kept for [or by] Jesus Christ" (v. 1; cf. v. 24). No deceiver will ever lay hold of the Almighty's church, his chosen and beloved children! He will slay all such distorters with the breath of his mouth while dealing ever so gently and mercifully with those of us whose faith has been rocked, the "bruised reeds" and "faintly burning wicks" like our friend Rose. We reassured her of this, that just because she doubts some things doesn't mean that God has left her, and that we would continue to be wrestling for her in prayer to be kept by Jesus Christ, as she really is.
Clarissa and I met up with a friend named "Rose" who came to faith last year after a two-year period of searching, coming to our church every weekend, and spending a lot of time with us. We rejoiced! But she then left for a nine-month internship in Italy, where apparently all she could find were unorthodox Catholic churches. One of the big questions haunting many people coming from an Islamic background is "Is Jesus really God himself and not just a prophet?" Yet the priests she spoke with in Italy told her that she was mistaken and that Jesus was not God, but rather the son of God. Whether or not it was a matter of semantics (i.e., by "God" they all meant "God the Father"), no priest can claim Jesus is not "God of God, Light of Light, very God of very God, begotten, not made, being of one substance with the Father, by whom all things were made" (Nicene Creed). Rose was rocked so far to where she said, "I don't know what to do; I'm not a Muslim anymore but I'm not a Christian." Who ordains these ministers?
If you know me, there are a few things that really set me on edge: when people conned or wronged, people who don't pull their weight and do their share of the work, and bad theology. So just when Clarissa and I were hoping to spend time with Rose rejoicing in the common salvation we together share, we found a need to contend for the faith. Saint Paul warns of people who distort the true faith, "whose talk will spread like gangrene" (or, as John Calvin translates, "their word will eat as doth a canker"). Such are "men who have gone astray from the truth . . . and they upset the faith of some" (2 Timothy 2:16-18).
But amidst these buffeting winds there is a sure hope: "Nevertheless, the firm foundation of God [possibly the church, who in 1 Timothy 3:15 is described as 'the pillar and foundation of the truth'] stands, having this seal, 'The Lord knows those who are His.' " Jude's greeting rings with the same beauty: "To those who are the called, beloved in God the Father, and kept for [or by] Jesus Christ" (v. 1; cf. v. 24). No deceiver will ever lay hold of the Almighty's church, his chosen and beloved children! He will slay all such distorters with the breath of his mouth while dealing ever so gently and mercifully with those of us whose faith has been rocked, the "bruised reeds" and "faintly burning wicks" like our friend Rose. We reassured her of this, that just because she doubts some things doesn't mean that God has left her, and that we would continue to be wrestling for her in prayer to be kept by Jesus Christ, as she really is.
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