My Body Will Live in Hope

I love trivia. Ergo I was watching Jeopardy! this evening on TV, during which I saw two advertisements per commercial break for the Cremation Society of Virginia. It was really weird. It seemed incredibly out of place. Why? Because TV advertising pretty much thrives on people's endless consumption and search for pleasure here and now. It doesn't ever tell us what their products/services/etc. will do for us in death (precisely because they don't do anything for us). But this ad was actually refreshing; it didn't hide the reality of death. So props to the CSV.

Because I'll die someday--and who knows how soon?--I actually ought to think about my funeral. (Yes, I'm 28, but I'm serious. You'll die too.) One thing I do know: I do not want a fun-eral that is basically a popular "celebration of life," something that declares how great of a guy I was. Save that for the wake. I want my funeral rather to shine forth with the reality of the hope I have along with all who call on Jesus Christ for life and salvation: my bodily resurrection and complete restoration to life in the blessing of God's presence forever. A message of Andrew Hall's life will not, on its own, bring hope to those at my funeral. Only the gospel can bring the dead to life.

As such, I was thinking: Do I want to be cremated or buried? Does the gospel bear upon this? Perhaps it does. The prophet Isaiah prophesied:

But your dead will live,
their bodies will rise.
You who dwell in the dust,
wake up and shout for joy.
Your dew is like the dew of the morning;
the earth will give birth to her dead. (26:19)

Through Isaiah we hear from God that in the Day of the Lord (a catch-all phrase used by the prophets to refer to the whole of God's coming, end-of-ages acts of judgment and renewal) that at the resurrection not only spirits or souls of the dead will rise, but their bodies (ESV has "corpses"). Using birth imagery, the earth's soil will release the dead--clearly a reference to the body's elements. We hear the same testimony elsewhere in Scripture.

So it will be with the resurrection of the dead. The body that is sown is perishable, it is raised imperishable; it is sown in dishonor, it is raised in glory; it is sown in weakness, it is raised in power; it is sown a natural body, it is raised a spiritual body*. . . . For the perishable must clothe itself with the imperishable, and the mortal with immortality. (1 Corinthians 15:42-44, 53)

Paul says that "the body that is sown . . . is raised imperishable." It is our present bodies which will be raised in the future. This is good news for us, because in the beginning God created the world "very good," and it is in a world of visceral pleasures as much as spiritual--albeit those which find their sources and ends in none other than God alone--where we will dwell and enjoy God forever.

How will God raise the very bodies of the dead, and yet so that they are not the exact same bodies as were once buried? As a scientist I stumble over this because I know also that thanks to bacteria and fungi, our interred bodies break down, and all of our cell matter--even the very atoms themselves--are released back into the soil, water, and air to become, eventually, part of my neighbor's azalea or an oil slick in the Gulf of Mexico. Likewise if only undecayed bodies were raised, then God's promise of deliverance would fall short for not only all his saints who were cremated, but also for men like Polycarp or Hugh Latimer and Nicholas Ridley, who were burned at the stake for their faith. The reality is that only one person's body was ever promised not to decay: Jesus himself. Even through King David the Spirit spoke of Jesus when he said, "Therefore my heart is glad and my tongue rejoices; / my body also will live in hope, / because you will not abandon me to the grave, / nor will you let your Holy One see decay" (Psalm 16:9-10; Acts 2:26-27)

I don't know how God is going to do this. But I know he is going to do it. My whole body--along with those of all who love Jesus and wait eagerly for him--will be raised and transformed when Jesus calls me back to life. So even when at death my soul joins the "spirits of righteous men made perfect" (Hebrews 12:23), I want my funeral to declare below what I will be praising my Savior for above: "My heart is glad and my tongue rejoices; my body also will live in hope!"

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*By saying that our new body will be "spiritual" does not mean that it will not be physical, corporeal, fleshly. Paul consistently uses "spiritual" to refer to the life-giving and re-creating activity of the Holy Spirit ("Spiritual"), as opposed to the transience and futility of the "flesh." For example, he says that mere "flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God" (1 Cor. 15:50). Anything "spiritual," for Paul, is about the promised Spirit of God reaching back from the future into our lives right now to accomplish God's salvation and to draw us forward into his eternal kingdom.

More Blessings from Track

Today I had a long talk with Lamont Bowles, the boys' track and field head coach at my school. He was congratulating me a stellar season. "We've never had distance runners like this before," he remarked. "You brought something to this team that they haven't had: you made running a mathematical science. . . . And you showed them the purpose behind every workout so that they would have confidence in what you told them and in what they were doing." When I told him that my goal at Glen Allen HS was to win the Capital District cross country title in five years, he said he knew I was going to be a good coach, because I have a clear goal in mind.

As I also found out, my male runners broke three school records this year and missed a fourth by less than one second. I had no idea! I was really surprised, because the few athletes I did have really didn't run any stellar times (2:06 in the 800 meters, 5:00 in the 1600 meters, 11:17 in the 3200 meters, and 8:44 in the 4x800 meter relay).* But when I looked up the school records, I found out that these were all at the top! Additionally, another runner unofficially broke the 800 meter record with his 4x800 m split (2:04), and one who sadly was academically ineligible for outdoor track ran an indoor 1000 meter school record of 2:57. Five school records in my first season? Not too shabby, when I look at it that way. (And this isn't counting previous times that the 1600 and 3200 records had been broken earlier in the season.)

Coach Bowles also said that early on he was "sizing me up" and "getting a good look at me" to see if I was someone he could work with long-term. He said that I was mild-mannered and good-natured, that I quickly built a good rapport with the kids, and that I could take advice and feedback well. But when asked my opinion about something, he noted that I wasn't afraid to speak my mind.

If Gary Chapman's right, then I think words of affirmation would be my "love language." It sure felt good to not only see that I was really something the school needed this year, but that I would be, from both a performance and a personal standpoint, someone valuable to the school for the future as well. Unfortunately for the Warriors--and not without a bit of sadness on my part too--that future lies at a different school.

P.S. Props to my endearing wife for being a "track widow" from November through May and for cheering us on at a few meets!

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*Just for reference, here are the top boys' times in the district this year: 800 m - 1:57; 1600 m - 4:26; 3200 m - 9:47; 4x800 m relay - 7:59.

A Touch of Class

If I was looking for a lesson on forgiveness (see the previous post), then it looks like I found one--on the baseball diamond, no less.

As a Detroit Tigers fan, I was pretty miffed at umpire Jim Joyce's blown call last night that cost pitcher Armando Galarraga a perfect game. It will probably go down as one of the most infamous calls in baseball history. But what struck me while watching the replays was how Galarraga just smiled and laughed when he heard the call and shrugged it off, going back to business and finishing the game.

Instead of delivering the lineup card for today's game himself during this afternoon's ballgame Tigers manager Jim Leyland had Galarraga deliver it to Joyce as a token of respect and reconcilation. (You can watch the video and read about it here.) Galarraga, Leyland, and the rest of the Tigers weren't going to hold one mistake of an otherwise competent umpire against him. It was really cool to see this because it was a touch of grace, character, and sportsmanship in a world where we don't see much of that.

How shall we then forgive?

Christians, in whom Christ himself dwells by his Spirit, are called to embody Christ to the world, loving the world in the way which he loved the world. As such, St. Paul urges the church, "Bear with each other and forgive whatever grievances you may have against one another. Forgive as the Lord forgave you" (Colossians 3:13). In the same vein he admonishes the church to be "kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you" (Ephesians 4:32). But what exactly does it mean to forgive as God forgave us?

For a long time I thought that this means three things: (1) Our forgiveness must be conscious and intentional, acknowledging others' hurts and wrongs against us, yet wiping them away nonetheless, never holding a grudge again. (2) Forgiveness will often hurt and cost us. To continue serving and extending love in a relationship which has brought pain, we have to absorb the pain and free others from it. (3) We should forgive freely, requiring nothing from the offender. After all, such is grace, right?

But in the Bible, while God grants the new birth, faith, and repentance (which are distinct but inseparable) unconditionally, he does not forgive or justify unconditionally. Perhaps we could call this "conditional grace": he only forgives those who repent of their sins and embrace their Rescuer, his Son Jesus. Jesus hints at this in his teaching on forgiveness. In the parable of the unmerciful servant (Matthew 18:21-35), Peter asks if there is a limit to how much he should forgive someone. Jesus replied that he should forgive in unlimited measure ("seventy-times-seven times"). But the king (representing God) forgives his debtor only when his servant fell on his knees before the king and pleaded with him for mercy (vv. 23-27). The king later said that "I canceled all that debt of yours because you begged me to. Shouldn't you have had mercy on your fellow servant just as I had on you?" (v. 33). While Jesus' main point is that recipients of God's mercy ought to extend that mercy to others, there is a hint even here of granting only conditional forgiveness.

While I don't think it's right--or even practical--to hold grudges on people who've wronged us, does this passage and the necessity of confession and repentance for God's mercy teach us that we are only really required to forgive others when, in contrition, they ask us to do so? Somehow this doesn't sit easy with me because God still gives blessings to those who hate him and pursues them with his call, but I have to think about it nonetheless.

What do you think?

Hidden Blessings

Tomorrow (Thursday) and Friday is the Capital District Track and Field Championship. Of the athletes I coach, the boys 4 x 800 m relay team is running, along with two boys and a girl in the 800 m run, three in the 1600 m run, and two boys in the 3200 m run. A few weeks ago our 4 x 800 m relay team did something our school hasn't done in a while: won an invitational. The guys were ecstatic. They even invited me to go to dinner with them that evening at Buffalo Wild Wings in celebration!

Tomorrow marks the beginning of the end of the season. I doubt any of my athletes is going to run well enough to move on to the regional championship except for our 4 x 800 relay team and possibly one runner in the 800 m. The team is simply too small and inexperienced. And let's face it: urban black kids aren't into distance running. If we have a bad day tomorrow, drop a baton, step outside of a lane, or whatever--the season is over. If not, we'll probably fight it out for third or fourth place in our district and move on to race another week. I don't want it to end.

I'll be moving to a brand-new high school next year and coaching boys' cross country there. This week one of my runners, Maxwell, kept asking about possible reasons that might keep me from going to the new school. Today I gave out a sheet with a racing plan and pacing for their races. Maxwell's brother Markus said, "I'm going to put this on my wall. Someday I'll be able to show my kids and say that I ran for the best track coach in Richmond." Amid further protests against my departure, two sprinters, Michael and CJ, also were talking about how fifty years from now there will be a track (or at least an invitational meet) named after Coach Hall.

Coaching track has really been a bright spot in an otherwise frustrating, fatiguing, and futile year of teaching. It has been really cool being able to connect with my athletes, encourage them, and see them achieve more success in middle- and long-distance events than we've had in several years. (Our sprinters and horizontal jumpers, however, perenially top the district and have competed at the prestigious Penn Relays.) Some runners ask me to pray for them before races. If it weren't for track, I think I would've had a difficult time finding much to thank God for about this past year. But every day I look forward to leaving my classroom, grabbing my notebook and stopwatch, and getting outside. It's a surprise gift from God for which I'm really grateful, a beautiful flower growing up from a cracked desert floor.

Now let's go Warriors! Behold the green and gold!

Scary Jesus

They were on their way up to Jerusalem, with Jesus leading the way, and the disciples were astonished, while those who followed were afraid. Again he took the Twelve aside and told them what was going to happen to him. "We are going up to Jerusalem," he said, "and the Son of Man will be betrayed to the chief priests and teachers of the law. They will condemn him to death and will hand him over to the Gentiles, who will mock him and spit on him, flog him and kill him. Three days later he will rise." (Mark 10:32-34)

Jesus is scary. Not like Freddie Krueger or some off-beat Johnny Depp character. Think of Paul Newman in Cool Hand Luke, getting up again and again to take another blow. I remember reading this passage several years ago when the reality sank in of just how, well, bizarre Jesus is. Why do I say this?

He and the disciples knew that in Jerusalem a gruesome death awaited him (see also John 11:8, 16). Yet here Jesus is, "leading the way," preventing anyone else from being a stumbling block by telling him that stuff like that isn't supposed to happen to the Messiah. He "steadfastly set his face" (Luke 9:51 KJV) and marched into a minefield, fully cognizant of what was to come. Who does that? This is not Homeboy Jesus or Kindergarten Teacher Jesus or anything else. This is the ghostly Jesus who walks on water, the one who descends to hell and kisses death, the man who wanders alone for weeks in the desert among jackals and talks with Satan. How are we, as his disciples, supposed to follow this kind of person? How can we even wrap our minds around such determined, purposeful embrace of sacrifice and suffering for the sake of others? And yet that's exactly what he calls us to do.*

Even such a man as Oswald Chambers was freaked out:

At the beginning we were sure we knew all about Jesus Christ, it was a delight to sell all and to fling ourselves out in a hardihood of love; but now we are not quite so sure. Jesus is on in front and He looks strange: "Jesus went before them and they were amazed."

There is an aspect of Jesus that chills the heart of a disciple to the core and makes the whole spiritual life gasp for breath. This strange Being with His face "set like a flint" and His striding determination, strikes terror into me. He is no longer Counsellor and Comrade, He is taken up with a point of view I know nothing about, and I am amazed at Him. At first I was confident that I understood Him, but now I am not so sure. I begin to realize there is a distance between Jesus Christ and me; I can no longer be familiar with Him. He is ahead of me and He never turns round; I have no idea where He is going, and the goal has become strangely far off. (My Utmost for His Highest, March 15)

Yet I cannot get away from following him. Where else can I turn? He alone has eternal life.

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*"To this you were called, because Christ suffered for you, leaving you an example, that you should follow in his steps." (1 Peter 2:21)

S.W.A.K.

I never grow tired of hearing my wife say, "I love you." Nor do I tire of pledging my love to her as well. (In fact, for some reason, I almost find more satisfaction in the latter.) We could say it ten times a day, and each time would be just as refreshing, just as reassuring, just as meaningful.

Perhaps this is why I never grow weary or bored with Communion. Though we celebrate it weekly at City Church, it's never a rote or ritualistic act. So often, as the bread and wine touch my lips, I hear deep within the Spirit's "still, small voice" assuring me that Christ is mine and I am his, and that all I need in life and in death is in him and is now mine too. The moment of peace, joy, assurance, and rest for my soul may be fleeting, and some weeks it's stronger than others. But I hunger for it without fail, and I'm never left wanting.

* * *

Likewise kissing my wife is an amazing thing. Who knew such a simple exchange could mean so much? The Lord's Supper is kind of like this too. The invisible reality behind the kiss (a covenant pledge of love that exists not only in word, but within our hearts) is illustrated and explained through words ("I love you") and is not only symbolized but actually expressed and conferred or communicated through a physical act (kissing). In the Supper we receive the Lord's love in the same way. He uses physical means (serving bread and wine, which we take into our mouths) to communicate himself to us spiritually (forgiveness of sin, joyful fellowship with him, and strengthening of faith), as explained verbally ("This is my body, given for you. . . . This is the new covenant in my blood, which is poured out for you"). So when we receive the bread and wine, we can know we're receiving God's promises sealed with a kiss.

Like a Child

Last weekend my pastor preached on Mark 10:13-16. The focus was on our necessity to receive the kingdom of God like a child, which means that we must believe our Father's goodness as our great Giver of his time, touch, and blessing (note that Jesus says we "receive" the kingdom). We must also learn to call on God as Abba, "Daddy." We don't bring our successes and achievements to the table in order to be fed. Those who are looking to their own merits or worth as a means of entering fellowship with God totally miss the point.

But, as before, this text made me think about faith. Jesus says that "the kingdom of God belongs to such as these" (10:14). He cannot mean that it belongs only to those adults or adolescents who trust God and come to him like children. It would be ludicrous to set forth children as models of faith ("I tell you the truth, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will not enter it.") and yet preclude them from having such an exemplary faith themselves.

Mark tells us that these are "little children" (paidia). What age might these role models be? Matthew uses this term to describe toddlers and infants under two years of age (Matthew 2:8, 9, 11, 13, 14, 20, 21). So apparently even infants and toddlers can have faith and can enter the kingdom of God. Other Scripture corroborates this. John the Baptist leaped for joy over the Messiah's coming even while in his mother's womb (Luke 1:41, 44). King David testified in Psalm 22 that "From birth I was cast upon you [Lord]; from my mother's womb you have been my God" (v. 10). And if this was so in the age prior to Pentecost and the Holy Spirit's outpouring upon the church, how much more so now?

N. T. Wright illustrates this with a clever example:

I once was doing a children’s talk at a baptism. I asked two children to each blow up a balloon. I allowed the first child to only put two or three little puffs into the balloon. The second child went on puffing and puffing and puffing and blew up this enormous balloon. Then I held them up and asked the children, Which of these balloons is fuller? Of course they all said “the big one.” And I replied, “Are you sure? Both of these balloons are full. One is bigger because it has more air, but they are both full—all the space in them is used up.”

A very little person can be totally full of the love of God. Even though, of course, when she grows up and becomes a bigger person, she needs to be filled with more and more of the love of God. But that little person is not half full just because she’s a little person. I realize that this is not a great, well-argued theological justification of infant baptism. It’s simply a way of saying that I suspect that some of our Western cultural prejudices are at stake here. [You can read the full article here.]

Why does this strike or provoke me? Well, lately I have been really deliberating over (guess what?) what baptism means and who is to receive it. I'm beating a dead horse, I know, I know. I've been seeing a lot more validity to the view that while baptism still signifies and confirms participation in Christ through faith, it should only be administered to professing believers. (Gasp! Might I really become Baptist after this long?) But this text throws somewhat of a wrench in that. After all, nearly every example of believers' baptism in the New Testament is that people were baptized shortly after hearing the gospel and responding in faith. But if a child raised in the church and/or in a Christian home may very well believe at age eight months, two years, or whatever, shouldn't we immediately baptize them? What would happen to John the Baptist or to David, those who believed since birth? It seems rather abiblical to me for them to believe and live out this incipient child-faith, while adults refuse them baptism until they achieve a more mature ability to articulate and express their beliefs.

Besides that, if baptism is restricted to a credible profession of faith and regeneration, at what point does that profession really become credible enough to be considered evidence that the Holy Spirit indeed indwells a person? There were evidently plenty of professing believers in churches like Corinth who partook of church activities while nonetheless living unrepentant, "uncircumcised" lives (see 1 Corinthians 10:1-11). Similar warnings are given in Romans 11:20-22, Colossians 1:23, Hebrews 6:1-12, and 2 Peter 2:20-21.

Thoughts? Feedback?

Loooongg Gone! -- But Not Forgotten

Yesterday long-time Detroit Tigers radio broadcaster Ernie Harwell was taken home to his Lord at the age of 92. (See ESPN's video story of his life here.) The Georgia native called games for the Tigers for over 40 years and was truly for me, as for countless other Michiganders, the voice of summer. One of my earliest memories was sitting on a stool in our garage on summer nights (probably 1984 or '85) while my dad went about his tasks--changing motor oil, mowing the lawn, building us a swingset. Yet no matter what he was doing, the garage radio was tuned squarely to 790 AM WSGW, with Harwell's rich, warm Southern voice calling the play-by-play. Phrases such as "He stood there like a house by the side of the road" (when a batter struck out looking), "It's loooongg gone!" (home runs), and "There's a souvenir for a young lady from Ypsilanti" (he would choose some random Michigan town when a foul ball was hit into the stands at Tiger Stadium or Comerica Park). But what I think I enjoyed the most about his broadcasts was the fact that he often kept silent and allowed the mic pick up the sounds of the ballpark--the crack of the bat, the hot dog vendors, the sound of Tiger Stadium's organ. It was a little taste of being at the game.

As far as I know, Harwell was a believer in the Lord Jesus; at least he often made mention of blessings given by his "good Lord" and spoke with peace at announcing his own diagnosis with inoperable cancer in 2009.

Ernie, we'll miss you. Thanks for all the wonderful memories.

Home for Dinner

This afternoon during Communion, I had the following thought: There are many activities a family does together and many things its members can point to as valued ways they share life together and love for one another. But what stands out to me is the family dinner. Everyone may be scattered during their rest of the day and evening in their own separate events and goings-on, but during this meal everyone comes together. It shows that whatever else the day may reveal, this moment says these people are a family, a home. The parents have prepared a meal for their children, a time to discuss the day, heal wounds and relieve burdens, mend discord, and share laughter and find delight in one another's company. Even when outsiders such as the children's schoolmates are invited over, it's special to be invited over for a real meal.

I thought of the Lord's Supper in this way. All of us at City Church (enter your congregation's name here) may interconnect and share fellowship and continued relationships in diverse ways throughout the week, but it's really for 90 minutes on Sunday afternoons that we recognize we're all members of the same family together, namely, God's. Discord and squabbles must be dealt with and put away. And like needy children, we eagerly await the delights our parents have worked to prepare for us not only for our nourishment and enjoyment, but also as a context for glad fellowship and time together with them. What good parent does not love to have his whole family together? So it must be with God our Father, our Abba. He loves his children and, in accordance with our ever-present needs, he dishes out not a tuna noodle casserole, but the flesh and blood of his very own Son, through whom we receive forgiveness of our sins and assurance of fellowship with him.

Perhaps this is why when the Prodigal Son returned home (see Jesus' parable in Luke 15), his father made no delay in preparing a rich feast. He hadn't been able to do so for so long, with an empty chair (or mat, in those days) leaving a gaping hole in their home. The meal was not only a celebration of the son's return. It was also an event made possible only because the whole family was back together again. So it will be when in heaven we feast with our Father forever.

How priceless is your unfailing love!
Both high and low among men
find refuge in the shadow of your wings.

They feast on the abundance of your house;
you give them drink from your river of delights. (Psalm 36:7-8)

Kids These Days!

Over spring break I managed to read through about half of Augustine's Confessions. This book is really unique. While written almost entirely as a prayer addressed to God, it nonetheless is meant to function as an autobiographical apologetic for why Christianity is the one true logos and faith over and against Manichaeism and other hollow, worldly philosophies.

Before his conversion, Augustine was a teacher of rhetoric in Carthage (in present-day Algeria) and in Rome, and I'm surprised to hear that his own teaching experiences are uncannily similar to my own. Listen to what he writes about his students in Carthage:

At Carthage, on the other hand, the students are beyond control and their behaviour is disgraceful. They come blustering into the lecture-rooms like a troop of maniacs and upset the orderly arrangements which the master has made in the interest of his pupils. Their recklessness is unbelievable and they often commit outrages which ought to be punished by law, were it not that custom protects them. (V.8)

Many of my students' antics, sadly, could be described this way. They can be raucous and nuts, especially as they return from lunch, and their murmuring and disinterested talking can often continue ad infinitum. Many have apparently been raised in homes in which they are encouraged to outrightly slander and talk back to their teachers. I even had a girl tell me today that if I touched her cell phone she was going to hit me, and "You don't want to have happen to you what happened to Mr. Rowe last year."

But out of the selfishness of my own heart, I grieve so often more for my own sake than for theirs. Rather than having compassion on them and knowing that I can make it through anything "with the strength God provides" (1 Peter 4:11), my usual response is anything but patience (though I'm learning).

Augustine continues:

Neverthless, it is a custom which only proves their plight the more grievous, because it supposedly sanctions behaviour which your [God's] eternal law will never allow. They think that they do these things with impunity, but the very blindness with which they do them is punishment in itself and they suffer far more harm than they inflict. (V.8)

In Romans 1, Paul stresses that as a result of sinful self-will, God gives people over to the very loveless selfishness which they have chosen as their lot. This is his form of punishment. Even in the OT, God is often seen as giving over Israel to fall into the lifelessness and impotence of the very idols they worship. How rarely do I weep that every day they persist in their blindness they are only further sealing their hard hearts against God and entrenching themselves in futile ways of strife and discontent?

Next year I'll be teaching at what will probably be a very different school, one which comes from a higher-earning, higher-achieving socioeconomic region of the county. I think this will ultimately be a better fit for me and will allow me to have more energy and good spirits to give toward my wife and (someday) children. Augustine, too, decided to leave Carthage for greener pastures, hoping that the affluent students in Rome would bring relief. Yet much to his dismay he discovered that these young men had so set their hearts upon the status afforded by wealth instead of virtue that they often dumped one teacher for another before even paying him.

They break their troth with you* by setting their hearts on fleeting temporal delusions and tainted money which defiles the hands that grasp it, and by clinging to a world which they can never hold. And all the while they turn their backs on you who are always present, calling them back and ready to pardon man's adulterous soul when it returns to you. For their warped and crooked minds I still hate students like these, but I love them too, hoping to teach them to mend their ways, so that they may learn to love their studies more than money and love you, their God, still more, for you are the Truth, the Source of good that does not fail, and the Peace of purer innocence. But in those days I was readier to dislike them for fear of the harm they might cause me than to hope that they would become good for your sake. (V.12, emphasis mine)

I can't even count how many days this year I've had a grumpy attitude and been quick to berate students for their immaturity, apathy, and rudeness--if not with words, then at least in my mind. But may it be that they've stayed this way all because they're not hearing that they're anything above this? How will I work the rest of this year and use my words and actions for good, hopeful of the Holy Spirit's power to shed God's grace and bring about good in myriad ways to all people? I don't even really know how to be productive and hopeful in this way, other than to just take ten seconds to say a quick prayer and cool down, take what they say with a grain of salt, and then continue to help them with their assignments.
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*To "break troth" is an old way of saying (from Knox's translation) to act unfaithfully toward someone with whom you had a binding agreement.

Pray for Turkey

April 18 marks the three-year anniversary of the martyrdom of two Turkish Christians, Necati Aydin and Ugur Yuksel, and Tilmann Geske, a German.

The Turkish Alliance of Protestant Churches (TEK) has asked that Christians and churches worldwide would set apart April 18 as a day of prayer for Turkey.

http://www.prayforturkey.com/

The Way to Take Hold of God's Promises

When we speak of human destiny, we are of course speaking of the future. The New Testament is clear that God has a future for this world, and that the transformation of humans is a crucial component of what lies in store. What are the implications of Jesus being our forerunner in resurrection life? The New Testament leads us to understand that the hopes and expectations of God's people are now hidden in Christ. In other words, the only way to take hold of God's promises for the future is to take hold of the resurrected Jesus in the present.

--Daniel Kirk, "A Resurrection that Matters" (emphasis mine)

Good Friday: "A Crescendo of Wonder"

John Witvliet of Calvin College up in the Mitten has written a beautiful (if perhaps over-stuffed) piece about the radical wonder and awe which ought to be brought about through Good Friday's solmenity as we "behold the Lamb who takes away the sin of the world" (John 1:29).

"A Crescendo of Wonder"

"Making peace through the blood of his cross" is like saying that a nuclear missile has become an olive-branch, that Guantanamo has become a garden of healing, that a sword has been turned into a plowshare, that a tank has been turned into a tractor. The very thought of it leaves us weak in the knees with astonishment. . . .

Our minds wander off trying to imagine what kind of cosmos we live in—where the shameful death of an innocent man can serve as a payment for sin, a ransom for the captive, a conquest of evil, a source of healing, a sacrifice to end all sacrifice (what a gift—all these mutually correcting scriptural images). Imagining that kind of world is enough to make our minds ache, given that we swim in the waters of a culture where debt generates more debt, and violence generates more violence. It takes a remarkable conversion of the imagination to see the world in the Bible's way: a world where justice and mercy do not exist in tension, where "righteousness and peace kiss each other," where the death and resurrection of the Son of God can re-order the moral foundations of the universe.

Astounded by the Resurrection - and Newsweek and MSN!

A few minutes ago I logged on to the Internet, and on the MSN homepage, all the featured articles were about Easter, the resurrection, and heaven! I read this one from Newsweek magazine, and despite being written by a self-professed "literal-minded skeptic," the author actually seems to get it right.

Leading into a summary of her book Heaven: Our Enduring Fascination with the Afterlife, Lisa Miller begins thus:

It's Easter—that most pleasant of springtime holidays—when children stuff themselves with marshmallows and stain their fingers with pastel dyes. In reality, of course, Easter is about something darker and more fantastic. It's a celebration of the final act of the Passion, in which Jesus rose from his tomb in his body three days after his execution, to reside in heaven with God. The Gospels insist on the veracity of this supernatural event. The risen Lord "ate barbecued fish [Luke] and walked through doors [John]," is how a friend of mine, an Episcopalian priest, puts it. This rising—the Resurrection—remains at the center of the Christian faith, the narrative climax of every creed. Jesus died and rose again so that all his followers could, eventually, do the same. This story has strained the credulity of even the most devoted believer. For, truly, it's unbelievable.

She goes on to show how easily people find the idea of a physical, bodily resurrection absurd or incredible, preferring options such as metaphor or some sort of vague "spiritual newness." But these just don't cut it (aided by, of course, N.T. Wright). "Resurrection may be unbelievable, but belief in a traditional heaven requires it."

She seems to finish strong with a quote from Harvard Divinity School professor Jon Levenson, himself a Jew: "It's no use to ask, 'If I had a lab at MIT, how would I try to resurrect a body?' The belief in resurrection is more radical. It's a supernatural event. It's a special act of grace or of kindness on God's part."

Sadly, she ends by saying, "For my part, I don't buy it." But what a wonderful testimony that God the truth of God is not far from any of us, so that people "would seek him and perhaps reach out for him and find him" (Acts 17:27).

On the Covenant of Redemption

Thinking more and more about John 17 and being "given to Jesus," I went back to my bookshelf as I recalled words that had impacted me in the past. Here are a few morsels I found.

The covenant of redemption . . . is an eternal pact between the persons of the Trinity. The Father elects a people in the Son as their mediator to be brought to saving faith through the Spirit. . . . Our salvation, therefore, arises first of all out of the joint solidarity of the divine persons. The joy of giving and receiving experienced by the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit spills over, as it were, into the Creator-creature relationship. In the covenant of redemption, the love of the Father and the Spirit for the Son is demonstrated in the gift of a people who will have him as their living head. At the same time, the Son's love for the Father and the Spirit is demonstrated in his pledge to redeem that family at the greatest personal cost. (Michael Horton, God of Promise, pp. 78-79).

Therefore Richard D. Phillips can encourage doubting, weary saints with the fact that

There is no debate raging within the Godhead concerning our place in salvation, no tension; there are no awkward silences or heated conversations. Rather there is a grand and cohesive conspiracy of love originating in the eternal and sovereign grace of the Father (Chosen in Christ, p. 33)

Theologians refer to this council as the covenant of redemption. God the Father laid a charge on the Son on behalf of his foreknown chosen people. The Son voluntarily accepted this charge, namely, that he would take up their cause and die for them upon the cross. In return, the Father promised him the salvation of all the elect, those chosen in eternity for eternal life as his people and bride. . . . This is good news for all who believe, for here is the foundation of your salvation--not something in you, who are so weak and changing, so mixed in your affections, so inconstant in your faith--it is the foundation of God's sovereign choice from eternity past. 'He chose us in Christ before the foundation of the world.' (Ibid., pp. 43-44)

Election and predestination are often misconstrued to be some sort of mechanical or abstract process. Consequently many are left wondering, "Am I among those whom God has chosen and given to Christ?" Michael Horton comforts such questions with the fact that all of redemption is mediated "in Christ" and that we are "chosen in Christ":

This is why we are not to search out God's secret decree of predestination or try to find evidence of it in ourselves, but, as [John] Calvin urged, to see Christ as the "mirror" of our election. God's predestination is hidden to us, but Christ is not. The unveiling of the mystery hidden in past ages, the person and work of Christ, becomes the only reliable testimony to our election. Those who trust in Christ belong to Christ, are elect in Christ. (God of Promise, p. 79)

In other words, if you believe yourself to be a sinner under God's wrath and in need of redemption, and Jesus as the Lamb slain for your sins and exalted to God's right hand, then you are one who is "chosen in Christ before the foundation of the world" (Ephesians 1:4). You possess the "eternal life" of knowing God and Jesus, a knowledge given by the Holy Spirit only to those given to Christ so that they may have life (John 17:2-3).

And what future lies in store for all who trust in Christ Jesus and belong to him?

This is the soul's end--the blessing beyond which no better can be imagined or conceived: an infinite, eternal, mutual, holy energy of love and pleasure between God the Father and God the Son flowing out in the Person of God the Spirit, and filling the souls of the redeemed with immeasurable and everlasting joy. (John Piper, commenting on John 17:24, 26 in The Pleasures of God, pp. 311-312)

John 17: Given to the Beloved to Be Loved

In my previous post I mentioned this idea of an ancient plan within the Trinity, one that even antedates creation: the Father's plan to redeem sinners through the sacrifice of his Son, who would receive those sinners as a gift and indwell them through his Spirit, to bring them into the unending life and joy of God. Of all things that could have been on Jesus' mind in the hours before his arrest, trial, and crucifixion, it was this plan upon which Jesus dwelled and brought to his Father in prayer.

²⁰"My prayer is not for them alone. I pray also for those who will believe in me through their message, ²¹that all of them may be one, Father, just as you are in me and I am in you. May they also be in us so that the world may believe that you have sent me. ²²I have given them the glory that you gave me, that they may be one as we are one: ²³I in them and you in me. May they be brought to complete unity to let the world know that you sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me.

²⁴"Father, I want those you have given me to be with me where I am, and to see my glory, the glory you have given me because you loved me before the creation of the world.

²⁵"Righteous Father, though the world does not know you, I know you, and they know that you have sent me. ²⁶I have made you known to them, and will continue to make you known in order that the love you have for me may be in them and that I myself may be in them." (John 17:20-26)

Who are we? We are today those who believe in Jesus through the message of his apostles (v. 20). We are also those who are given by God as a gift to Jesus (v. 24). Those given to Jesus believe in Jesus.

To whom are we given? We are given to the Beloved. Jesus reveals in this prayer that he was loved with an everlasting love, one that existed before the world was (vv. 23, 24, 26). A loving Father gives gifts because he is good and because he longs to see his child's joy. Jesus the Son is completely full of his Father's own glory and excellence (John 1:14, 18; Colossians 1:15; 2:9; Hebrews 1:3). Because there is nothing more admirable or beautiful in the whole universe than God himself, God must enjoy and behold and love his Son with an unsurpassed love.

Who are we (again)? We are therefore given to Jesus as a gift coming from the overflow of God's own love for his Son. If we are given to the Son as a result of God's love, then we must know two things: First, the Father would not give his Son what is not valuable or prized. No loving Father would give junk to his children (see Matthew 7:11); he gives the best. So we are truly precious to God. This shocks me, because in my theological tradition (Reformed) it is the lowliness and sinfulness of humanity that are so often emphasized that we neglect the value we have in God's eyes.

Second, we can know that just as fully as the Father wants his Son's good and happiness, and as we belong to the Highest in Heaven, we know that God can only be for our good. He would not scorn his Son nor disparage his own gift to him. We can know that God is ever for us, because possessed by his Son we too are to become Christlike children.

For what purpose are we given? Given to the Son and belonging to him, Jesus reminds his Father that "you . . . have loved them even as you have loved me" (v. 23). In Christ we are loved by God to the same extent as Christ himself! We too, in Christ, have been loved before the creation of the world, before the beginning of time (v. 24). We are now also the object of God's joy and held fast near his heart. He will fight for us until the end of time, to purify us as a bride for his Son, and to bring us home to dwell with him and drink forever from his river of delights (v. 24; Psalm 36:8). We are given to the Beloved to be loved.

On what basis are we so dear, co-equal with Christ? "I [am] in them, and you [are] in me," Jesus says (v. 23; cf. v. 26). The Son is in perfect fellowship with his Father, and we share in communion with the Son by faith and through the work of the Spirit (John 14:16 ff.). How can we, so ugly and marred by sin, be loved? Because this perfect Son has taken upon himself the stain and deformity of our sin and has put it to death forever in God's sight. In Christ we too rise out of the grave and stand upon Mount Hermon in radiant white and hear "This is my son, whom I love" (Mark 1:11; 9:7).

What does Jesus do for those he loves? At the end of his prayer Jesus proclaims that "I have made you [Father] known to them, and will continue to make you known in order that the love you have for me may be in them and that I myself may be in them" (John 17:26). Jesus, who is endowed with the fullness of God, makes God's name--all that God is--known to us. This he does by having purchased the Holy Spirit with his blood and sending him to illuminate God's Word to us. Jesus' greatest desire for those he loves is that we would know and see God's glory, a glory and wonder and beauty made known through Jesus (v. 24). As we know God better and better, we trust him more and more. This faith-life, this fear-of-the-Lord, is the very life of Jesus as God's perfect servant, the true Man. And so the more and more we know God through Christ, we find that the love God has for Christ is also in us (v. 26).

But beyond that, as Christ dwells in us and is formed within us, something else happens: we find that we love the Father more and more too. When Jesus prays "that I myself may be in them," he is praying that we would be filled with obedient, glad love for the Father. And because Jesus' prayers are always effectively heard by the Father (John 11:41-42), we can know this for sure: one day we will be free from all lesser affections and, beloved in Christ, we will see and love our tender Creator and Redeemer and find our heart's home in him.

John 17: Given through the Cross

John 17 is what many call Jesus' "high priestly prayer." In it he prays for himself (vv. 1-5), his present disciples (vv. 6-19), and all who would come to believe through the disciples (vv. 20-26). Throughout this prayer, Jesus refers to believers as those whom God has given to him (vv. 2, 6, 9, 24). It is said that these people belonged to God the Father (v. 9), which is implicit in the fact that he is the one who gives them to Jesus. These people are also given to Jesus "out of the world" (v. 6), that is, not all of the world's people are given to Jesus. We know this because of verse 2: "For you granted him authority over all people that he might give eternal life to all those you have given him." We already know that not all people will receive eternal life through Christ, for not all will repent and embrace him as Lord. This is the clear testimony of Scripture. But note also that Jesus, while possessing "authority over all people," only uses his position to give life to "all those you have given him." Being given to Jesus overlaps with receiving eternal life (cf. John 6:35-40; 10:26-29); they are one and the same.

Why are these people given to Jesus? Or how does he obtain them from God?

Acts 20:28 encourages overseers to "be shepherds of the church of God [some manuscripts have of the Lord], which he bought with his own blood." In Revelation we hear worshipers sing of Jesus the Lamb: "With your blood you purchased men for God from every tribe and language and people and nation" (5:9; see also 14:4). And Paul instructs the Corinthians that they now belong to Jesus because they were "bought with a price" (1 Corinthians 6:20). So the answer is, Jesus bought the church with his blood shed at the cross. The goal of his death was to receive his bride.

Does this contradict all this talk of being "given" the church in John 6 and 17? No. Rather, having lived a perfectly obedient life for his Father and dying to cleanse the stain of guilt and shame upon the world, Jesus is not only vindicated and given life in his resurrection. He is also given the church as his reward. This is hinted at even in the Old Testament: "Yet it was the will of the LORD to crush him [Jesus]; / he has put him to grief; / when his soul makes an offering for guilt / he shall see his offspring . . . . Out of the anguish of his soul he shall see and be satisfied" (Isaiah 53:10, 11 ESV).

This transaction between Jesus and his Father, that Jesus would come to save the elect and win them for himself so that they would glorify God forever, is sometimes called the "covenant of redemption." It is an eternal pact within the Godhead planned before the world existed (2 Timothy 1:9; 1 Peter 1:20; Revelation 13:8 NIV). But for what reasons are we given to Christ? What does that do for us? I'll turn to this in my next post.

Evolution Rap

Whether you love Evolution or hate it -- ya gotta love this rap by Tom McFadden at Stanford. It's a dead-on parody of "'93 Till Infinity" by the Souls of Mischief.



Now that I'm wrapping up my Genetics unit in school and I'll begin teaching Evolution next week, you might expect more posts to come.

Hymns for Haiti

For those of you in the RVA (and if that means nothing to you, then this isn't for you):

Next weekend Alex Mejias is putting on a "Hymns for Haiti" benefit concert at West End Presbyterian Church to raise funding for Compassion International in Haiti. Mejias is a talented young musician who, much in the vein of Indelible Grace and RUF, adapts classic evangelical hymns to modern arrangements so that their timeless truths can be heard and appreciated by modern worshipers.

Why am I posting this here? Because for the past five-plus years I have sponsored Janvier Delson, a boy in Melinette, Haiti. Delson is now 13 years old. In Melinette most people are unemployed, and the average employed person only earns about $50 per month. It has been cool to trade letters with this "pen pal" of mine in Haiti while knowing that my $28 per month is able to help provide his family with food, clothing, and medicine. While in Melinette and in Haiti public schools can be scarce, Compassion's Child Development Centers give children education they need to help them grow spiritually, academically, socially, and personally.

So if you're in the Richmond on March 20, please consider attending this concert.