I've heard this was coming down the pipleline for a while. But apparently it's official: Confessional Lutherans disaffected with the gospel-diluting Evangelical Lutheran Church in America (ELCA) have broken off and formed a new ecclesiastical body, the North American Lutheran Chruch (NALC). I don't know all their doctrinal stances, but if their drive is to return to confessional Lutheranism and to Scripture itself, then why not simply join the more conservative, confessional Lutheran Church--Missour Synod (LCMS)? I imagine the NALC might be like the Evangelical Presbyterian Church (EPC), which upholds the Westminster Standards but allows female elders. I wonder myself why there are so many denominations with similar intents, even subscribing to the same confessions and standards and interpretational frameworks. So why not allow for a little more wiggle room in the peripheral matters of difference and unite for the sake of the church's greater unity? Why don't the (Lutheran) NALC, LCMS, WELS, and ELS all join? Why not the (Presbyterian) EPC, OPC, and PCA? There is far more uniting these respective bodies than there is dividing them.
Okay, rant aside, does anyone out there know what makes the NALC distinct enough from the LCMS to warrant a new body?
Monday, August 30, 2010
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Huh? Does it really say THAT?
Random thought this morning: Christ is spoken of in the New Testament as the "new Adam" or the "second Adam" (Rom. 5:15-21; 1 Cor. 15:22, 45). The goal of God's work in his redeemed people is to form Christ in them (Gal. 4:19), to conform them to Christ's likeness (Rom. 8:29), or to clothe them with Christ (Rom. 13:14; Gal. 3:27; Eph. 4:24*; Col. 3:10*). Naturally I guess I therefore thought of our sanctification--our growth in Christlikeness as we follow him in the power of the Spirit--as becoming truly human, becoming the people God had always intended for us to be from our sinless beginning in Eden (Gen. 1-3).
But if you look at the attitudes and behaviors we are to put on and "wear around" as the fabric of our lives, they involve all sorts of things Adam could never have done or been capable of prior to the Fall. Adam never needed to know how to be kind, tenderhearted, or forgiving, because no one had ever sinned against him. He didn't need to know compassion or how to serve the hungry or the homeless because hunger and pain and homelessness didn't exist. So in some way, if God's entire purpose from before time has been to conform people to the likeness of his Son (Rom. 8:29)--and God is doing that now--then somehow God always intended for there to be sin, for our truest humanity to take place in the context of a fallen, sinful world.
Which begs the question too: Did God intend evil and the Fall from the beginning, before his creation of the world, so that we could know and enjoy and celebrate even more of his nature than we otherwise would ever have been able to? We could not know what love is if there were never hatred. We couldn't know faithfulness if it weren't for infidelity and backstabbing. We couldn't know beauty if it weren't for ugliness. We couldn't know grace and mercy if there were no evil to punish. We could never know justice if there were no injustice. Love, faithfulness, beauty, purity, grace, mercy, justice--these are all true and wonderful attributes of God united in the very center of his being which we otherwise couldn't know and glorify him for, were it not for the Fall.
Have I lost my mind?**
_________________
*Most translations speak of putting on the "new self," but the Greek literally says "new man," probably a reference by Paul to Christ himself. The risen Christ who defeated death and was glorified by the power of the Holy Spirit is said to be a "firstborn among many brothers" who would follow in God's family (Rom. 8:29). Therefore, to quote Switchfoot, Jesus is the "new way to be human."
**If you really want to know, look up the terms infralapsarianism and supralapsarianism. Apparently other people are crazy enough to have wondered this too. And while you're at it, look up terms like transducianism and hypostatic union too. You'll feel smarter . . . or at least smug and theologically righteous.
But if you look at the attitudes and behaviors we are to put on and "wear around" as the fabric of our lives, they involve all sorts of things Adam could never have done or been capable of prior to the Fall. Adam never needed to know how to be kind, tenderhearted, or forgiving, because no one had ever sinned against him. He didn't need to know compassion or how to serve the hungry or the homeless because hunger and pain and homelessness didn't exist. So in some way, if God's entire purpose from before time has been to conform people to the likeness of his Son (Rom. 8:29)--and God is doing that now--then somehow God always intended for there to be sin, for our truest humanity to take place in the context of a fallen, sinful world.
Which begs the question too: Did God intend evil and the Fall from the beginning, before his creation of the world, so that we could know and enjoy and celebrate even more of his nature than we otherwise would ever have been able to? We could not know what love is if there were never hatred. We couldn't know faithfulness if it weren't for infidelity and backstabbing. We couldn't know beauty if it weren't for ugliness. We couldn't know grace and mercy if there were no evil to punish. We could never know justice if there were no injustice. Love, faithfulness, beauty, purity, grace, mercy, justice--these are all true and wonderful attributes of God united in the very center of his being which we otherwise couldn't know and glorify him for, were it not for the Fall.
Have I lost my mind?**
_________________
*Most translations speak of putting on the "new self," but the Greek literally says "new man," probably a reference by Paul to Christ himself. The risen Christ who defeated death and was glorified by the power of the Holy Spirit is said to be a "firstborn among many brothers" who would follow in God's family (Rom. 8:29). Therefore, to quote Switchfoot, Jesus is the "new way to be human."
**If you really want to know, look up the terms infralapsarianism and supralapsarianism. Apparently other people are crazy enough to have wondered this too. And while you're at it, look up terms like transducianism and hypostatic union too. You'll feel smarter . . . or at least smug and theologically righteous.
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Trusting God When Your Loved Ones Reject Christ
In the Reformed/Presbyterian tradition where I find myself, we believe very much that God works in families and that he not only saves individuals, but promises his salvation to their whole families as well (see, e.g., Acts 2:39: "For the promise is for you and for your children . . . ."). In fact, among the chief means God uses to raise disciples is the care and instruction of parents and fellow church members.
Sadly, however, we have all seen many examples where this doesn't work out right. A child may be brought into the church and given God's promises in baptism, and his parents might faithfully teach him the faith and pray for him day and night, yet he may never come to know the Lord. (Of course, the Bible says we're not merely neutrally unconvinced about Jesus. Unbelievers, rather, actively spurn and reject him in favor of their preferred idols.) Does this mean God has failed? One can hardly blame a parent when he grieves and is upset toward God when his children drift away or fail to embrace Jesus as their Rescuer and Lord. Is God impotent? Aloof? Cavalier? Arbitrary?
As I've been reading through Romans again lately, these questions find their answers. Of course I do not intend to suppose these will satisfactorily calm all the travail a loving Christian parent will surely experience, but I know that they are true. And I might as well impress these lessons upon my own heart now, should I later find myself in this same predicament. So here are three explanations from Romans 9-11 as to why children raised in a godly home and/or in the church fail to grasp Christ.
God has not chosen some for salvation (Romans 9:1-29). In this section of his letter, Paul addressed the question of why the Jews have pretty much cart-blanche written off Jesus as the Messiah. If God promised to save his people and make them a blessing to the world, why then have the Jews failed both to obey the Law and also to trust Christ and so be saved? Haven't God's promises failed? some might ask. An emphatic NO! is his reply. "But it is not as though the word of God has failed" (v. 6). Paul goes on to argue that while God's salvation was truly promised to all of Abraham's descendants, only a portion or remnant of his offspring--"the children of the promise"--are chosen by God. The reality Paul lays out is that God, in his freedom as Creator, has not shown the same mercy upon all people. Why not? It is so that the world will see that salvation lies not in their own abilities and desires and deeds, but in God's. "So then it depends not on human will or exertion, but on God, who has mercy" (v. 16; cf. v. 11).
God does have "mercy on whomever he wills, and he hardens whom he wills" (v. 19). But this is no injustice. In the Bible, when someone is spoken of being hardened in his sin, this is always God's act of judgment by which he simply gives sinners what they've wanted all along: their own kingdom apart from the Lord's rule. Paul uses the example of Pharaoh, who already hated and rejected God, as one whom God hardened. Likewise Paul shows that God lets people feel the full weight of their sin (1:24, 26, 28), as they wish. By even invoking the word mercy, Paul shows that the natural state of anyone is as a wrath-deserving rebel. If you weren't already an enemy of God, why would it be then mercy which God sheds on you? So in saving only some people, God is simply being more merciful to them than to others.
Unbelievers are simply that--unbelievers (9:30 - 10:21). Paul makes it evident that salvation doesn't demand jumping through spiritual hoops or figuring out some enigmatic metaphysical puzzle. Rather, it's as simple as trusting the message about Jesus Christ, who is near all through the gospel. When Jesus is proclaimed, we are called to believe in him in our hearts and to confess his name publicly. It's as simple as that (10:5-13).
What this means is that as a parent or friend, if you have spoken often and clearly to that person of repentance and faith in Christ and prayed for his salvation, it's not your fault that person doesn't know the Lord. It's his. God's call and his promises are for everyone in the church, all who hear, but some refuse to believe. And in the end, that's the fact. They personally failed to obey the gospel (vv. 16-21). And their faithlessness does not nullify God's faithfulness (3:3-4). They simply rather love something more than the faithful God.
Now this may be seem at odds with the fact that no one believes unless God graciously gives them faith (Phil. 1:29; Eph. 2:8-9; 2 Tim. 2:24-26). But despite the mysteries of election and God's sovereignty, the reality is that God also freely offers eternal life to all through the gospel (John 3:16). God's offer is no less real, neither is their rejection of the gospel and their failure to repent.
God has a good and wise plan, even when we don't understand it fully (11:1-36). Paul finishes his argument for God's fidelity by pointing out that God hasn't given up on Israel even though only a few Jews now believe. Rather, he has for a time opened the door wide so that people from all nations might belong to God. And in due time, Jews again will embrace their Messiah and find their home in the church. But Paul calls this plan a "mystery" contrary to our own human wisdom (v. 25). In the fullness of God's perfect, superior wisdom and purposes, what looks like a puzzling failure or injustice on God's part actually is serving to make his mercy as far-reaching and expansive as possible (vv. 30-32). This leads Paul to break out in praise:
Where is his divine wisdom most fully put on display? It is seen nowhere more radiantly and clearly than in the Cross of Jesus Christ. "For Jews demand signs and Greeks seek wisdom, but we preach Christ crucified, a stumbling block to Jews and folly to Gentiles, but to those who are called, both Jews and Greeks, Christ the power of God and the wisdom of God" (1 Cor. 1:22-24; cf. vv. 30-31; Luke 11:31; Col. 2:3). When you look at the Man of Sorrows carrying the world's sickness and sin, hanging on the cross in shame, and dying to bear God's wrath and shed forgiveness upon a world of sinners, do you not see there God's love? His mercy? His goodness? His grace? Can you look at the cross and see in it an evil God, lording his might over the world and wantonly crushing sinners under his finger without a care? No! So we can trust that even when it seems like God is aloof or injust, or even powerless, he is working each of us into a wise plan conceived in the benevolence of his heart. We cannot see it now, nor will it make sense or ease our griefs. But we can continue to hope in the goodness of God.
"To the only wise God be glory forevermore though Jesus Christ! Amen" (Rom. 16:27).
Sadly, however, we have all seen many examples where this doesn't work out right. A child may be brought into the church and given God's promises in baptism, and his parents might faithfully teach him the faith and pray for him day and night, yet he may never come to know the Lord. (Of course, the Bible says we're not merely neutrally unconvinced about Jesus. Unbelievers, rather, actively spurn and reject him in favor of their preferred idols.) Does this mean God has failed? One can hardly blame a parent when he grieves and is upset toward God when his children drift away or fail to embrace Jesus as their Rescuer and Lord. Is God impotent? Aloof? Cavalier? Arbitrary?
As I've been reading through Romans again lately, these questions find their answers. Of course I do not intend to suppose these will satisfactorily calm all the travail a loving Christian parent will surely experience, but I know that they are true. And I might as well impress these lessons upon my own heart now, should I later find myself in this same predicament. So here are three explanations from Romans 9-11 as to why children raised in a godly home and/or in the church fail to grasp Christ.
God has not chosen some for salvation (Romans 9:1-29). In this section of his letter, Paul addressed the question of why the Jews have pretty much cart-blanche written off Jesus as the Messiah. If God promised to save his people and make them a blessing to the world, why then have the Jews failed both to obey the Law and also to trust Christ and so be saved? Haven't God's promises failed? some might ask. An emphatic NO! is his reply. "But it is not as though the word of God has failed" (v. 6). Paul goes on to argue that while God's salvation was truly promised to all of Abraham's descendants, only a portion or remnant of his offspring--"the children of the promise"--are chosen by God. The reality Paul lays out is that God, in his freedom as Creator, has not shown the same mercy upon all people. Why not? It is so that the world will see that salvation lies not in their own abilities and desires and deeds, but in God's. "So then it depends not on human will or exertion, but on God, who has mercy" (v. 16; cf. v. 11).
God does have "mercy on whomever he wills, and he hardens whom he wills" (v. 19). But this is no injustice. In the Bible, when someone is spoken of being hardened in his sin, this is always God's act of judgment by which he simply gives sinners what they've wanted all along: their own kingdom apart from the Lord's rule. Paul uses the example of Pharaoh, who already hated and rejected God, as one whom God hardened. Likewise Paul shows that God lets people feel the full weight of their sin (1:24, 26, 28), as they wish. By even invoking the word mercy, Paul shows that the natural state of anyone is as a wrath-deserving rebel. If you weren't already an enemy of God, why would it be then mercy which God sheds on you? So in saving only some people, God is simply being more merciful to them than to others.
Unbelievers are simply that--unbelievers (9:30 - 10:21). Paul makes it evident that salvation doesn't demand jumping through spiritual hoops or figuring out some enigmatic metaphysical puzzle. Rather, it's as simple as trusting the message about Jesus Christ, who is near all through the gospel. When Jesus is proclaimed, we are called to believe in him in our hearts and to confess his name publicly. It's as simple as that (10:5-13).
What this means is that as a parent or friend, if you have spoken often and clearly to that person of repentance and faith in Christ and prayed for his salvation, it's not your fault that person doesn't know the Lord. It's his. God's call and his promises are for everyone in the church, all who hear, but some refuse to believe. And in the end, that's the fact. They personally failed to obey the gospel (vv. 16-21). And their faithlessness does not nullify God's faithfulness (3:3-4). They simply rather love something more than the faithful God.
Now this may be seem at odds with the fact that no one believes unless God graciously gives them faith (Phil. 1:29; Eph. 2:8-9; 2 Tim. 2:24-26). But despite the mysteries of election and God's sovereignty, the reality is that God also freely offers eternal life to all through the gospel (John 3:16). God's offer is no less real, neither is their rejection of the gospel and their failure to repent.
God has a good and wise plan, even when we don't understand it fully (11:1-36). Paul finishes his argument for God's fidelity by pointing out that God hasn't given up on Israel even though only a few Jews now believe. Rather, he has for a time opened the door wide so that people from all nations might belong to God. And in due time, Jews again will embrace their Messiah and find their home in the church. But Paul calls this plan a "mystery" contrary to our own human wisdom (v. 25). In the fullness of God's perfect, superior wisdom and purposes, what looks like a puzzling failure or injustice on God's part actually is serving to make his mercy as far-reaching and expansive as possible (vv. 30-32). This leads Paul to break out in praise:
Oh the depth of the riches and wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are his judgments and how inscrutable his ways!Compared to God, our wisdom is but an infinitestimal droplet. And this must be, in the end, what we take to heart. Yes, God calls all to believe in the gospel of his Son, and only those who believe are saved. Yet at the same time, this belief in Christ is ultimately only granted by God to those whom he has chosen. What to do with this seeming antithesis? We have to look to and trust in God's perfect wisdom.
For who has known the mind of the Lord,
or who has been his counselor?
Or who has given a gift to him
that he might be repaid?
For from him and through him and to him are all things. To him be glory forever. Amen. (11:33-36)
Where is his divine wisdom most fully put on display? It is seen nowhere more radiantly and clearly than in the Cross of Jesus Christ. "For Jews demand signs and Greeks seek wisdom, but we preach Christ crucified, a stumbling block to Jews and folly to Gentiles, but to those who are called, both Jews and Greeks, Christ the power of God and the wisdom of God" (1 Cor. 1:22-24; cf. vv. 30-31; Luke 11:31; Col. 2:3). When you look at the Man of Sorrows carrying the world's sickness and sin, hanging on the cross in shame, and dying to bear God's wrath and shed forgiveness upon a world of sinners, do you not see there God's love? His mercy? His goodness? His grace? Can you look at the cross and see in it an evil God, lording his might over the world and wantonly crushing sinners under his finger without a care? No! So we can trust that even when it seems like God is aloof or injust, or even powerless, he is working each of us into a wise plan conceived in the benevolence of his heart. We cannot see it now, nor will it make sense or ease our griefs. But we can continue to hope in the goodness of God.
"To the only wise God be glory forevermore though Jesus Christ! Amen" (Rom. 16:27).
Friday, July 30, 2010
Sharing the Spoils
In different ways and for different reasons, the image of Jesus as a victorious leader-king has been for several years the one which strikes me most. As such, Psalm 110 is one of my favorite passages in all of Scripture. It just so happened that it was also the OT reading at church last week, as the sermon text was Mark 12:35-44, in which Jesus refers to Psalm 110:1.
1 The Lord says to my Lord:
“Sit at my right hand,
until I make your enemies your footstool.”
2 The Lord sends forth from Zion
your mighty scepter.
Rule in the midst of your enemies!
3 Your people will offer themselves freely
on the day of your power,
in holy garments;
from the womb of the morning,
the dew of your youth will be yours.
4 The Lord has sworn
and will not change his mind,
“You are a priest forever
after the order of Melchizedek.”
5 The Lord is at your right hand;
he will shatter kings on the day of his wrath.
6 He will execute judgment among the nations,
filling them with corpses;
he will shatter chiefs over the wide earth.
7 He will drink from the brook by the way;
therefore he will lift up his head.
During Communion I had saw this image of Jesus as if he were King Arthur sitting to dine with his comrades, the Knights of the Round Table, after a great victory. It was a merry scene, full of mead and broiled meats. The victorious king had returned from battle and now wanted to share a time of glad rest with his brothers in arms, those for whom he had fought. He sat down to share a lavish meal with them, not as their overlord, but as a friend. In this meal of celebration, the king shared the spoils of his victory with all who were there: gold rings and necklaces, finely embroidered linens, and expertly crafted weapons.
How much so with our King Jesus, whose feet rest on the necks of Satan and his minions and of all the sin, doubts, fears, and failures which plague us. Not all his enemies are under his feet yet; Death is the last foe to be vanquished ("until I make your enemies your footstool"; cf. 1 Corinthians 15:24-28). During our Lord's Supper, he is spreading a table for us to celebrate the rest he has won for us, his people clothed in "holy garments" of his own righteousness (Psalm 110:3; Revelation 7:14; 19:8). Jesus condescends to meet with us in glad fellowship and to enjoy rest together. At the table he is also sharing with us the plunder, the spoils of his victory (Isaiah 53:12). He bestows on us life, cleansing, forgiveness, assurance that we belong to the household of God both now and forever, and spiritual power to fight the good fight of faith (see John 6:51; Matthew 26:28; Luke 15:23-24).
In short, the Lord's Supper can be a time for us when we experience and learn in the present what is true of the church and her king through all ages: "They will make war against the Lamb, but the Lamb will overcome them because he is Lord of lords and King of kings—and with him will be his called, chosen and faithful followers" (Revelation 17:14).
1 The Lord says to my Lord:
“Sit at my right hand,
until I make your enemies your footstool.”
2 The Lord sends forth from Zion
your mighty scepter.
Rule in the midst of your enemies!
3 Your people will offer themselves freely
on the day of your power,
in holy garments;
from the womb of the morning,
the dew of your youth will be yours.
4 The Lord has sworn
and will not change his mind,
“You are a priest forever
after the order of Melchizedek.”
5 The Lord is at your right hand;
he will shatter kings on the day of his wrath.
6 He will execute judgment among the nations,
filling them with corpses;
he will shatter chiefs over the wide earth.
7 He will drink from the brook by the way;
therefore he will lift up his head.
During Communion I had saw this image of Jesus as if he were King Arthur sitting to dine with his comrades, the Knights of the Round Table, after a great victory. It was a merry scene, full of mead and broiled meats. The victorious king had returned from battle and now wanted to share a time of glad rest with his brothers in arms, those for whom he had fought. He sat down to share a lavish meal with them, not as their overlord, but as a friend. In this meal of celebration, the king shared the spoils of his victory with all who were there: gold rings and necklaces, finely embroidered linens, and expertly crafted weapons.
How much so with our King Jesus, whose feet rest on the necks of Satan and his minions and of all the sin, doubts, fears, and failures which plague us. Not all his enemies are under his feet yet; Death is the last foe to be vanquished ("until I make your enemies your footstool"; cf. 1 Corinthians 15:24-28). During our Lord's Supper, he is spreading a table for us to celebrate the rest he has won for us, his people clothed in "holy garments" of his own righteousness (Psalm 110:3; Revelation 7:14; 19:8). Jesus condescends to meet with us in glad fellowship and to enjoy rest together. At the table he is also sharing with us the plunder, the spoils of his victory (Isaiah 53:12). He bestows on us life, cleansing, forgiveness, assurance that we belong to the household of God both now and forever, and spiritual power to fight the good fight of faith (see John 6:51; Matthew 26:28; Luke 15:23-24).
In short, the Lord's Supper can be a time for us when we experience and learn in the present what is true of the church and her king through all ages: "They will make war against the Lamb, but the Lamb will overcome them because he is Lord of lords and King of kings—and with him will be his called, chosen and faithful followers" (Revelation 17:14).
Monday, July 19, 2010
Complete in Christ
I recently began reading How People Change by Timothy S. Lane and Paul David Tripp, and it has been simultaneously refreshing, eye-opening, and convicting. Three chapters in, the focus has been on Colossians 2:6-15 and how we drift from the gospel itself as our means of growth and are allured by other plausible philosophies which replace faith in Christ as our means of salvation.
The authors point out that one way to test our grasp of the gospel is how we understand Colossians 2:9-10: "For in Christ the fullness of the Deity lives in bodily form, and you have been given fullness in Christ, who is the head over every power and authority." The gospel also includes the reality that "Christ . . . is your life" (3:4). This word really speaks to me, challenges me right now.
Our lives in Richmond aren't all that we dreamed of: no secure job yet for Olivia, a stressful job for me last year, few meaningful friendships, feeling a little unsettled at church, odd neighbors. I'm also aware of how growth in holiness (read: devoted love to God and to others) is often slow, arduous, and humbling. I am most aware of this in my marriage. And yet, as Dietrich Bonhoeffer once said, God wants us to live fulfilled lives in spite of many unfulfilled desires (Brevier). How is this possible? It's only when I acknowledge I am complete in Christ.
If we lose something valuable to us or lack what we desire, even need, we still have Christ. He is our life. He encompasses all that we need for life and godliness (2 Peter 1:3-4). All he is, he is for us; and all he owns and reigns over is ours as well (Luke 12:32). Christ didn't just earn forgiveness for our past sins. He also, and he alone, holds and secures our good, both today and in the future. Being children of God and heirs of his kingdom (Romans 8:17), beloved, indwelled by the Holy Spirit and completely forgiven of all our sins--nothing can change this (Romans 8:37-39).
When "Christ . . . is my life," this also clarifies my purpose and prevents me from despairing that I may be in a situation where I'm achieving or accomplishing little worthwhile. It also cuts out the fallacy that at some point in the future I might be able to more effectively live out my God-intended purpose. God's real purpose for us, our destiny, is to live as disciples of Jesus Christ and take on his image, renewed in true holiness and righteousness (Romans 8:29; Ephesians 4:24; Colossians 3:10). We are meant to share the Son's glory as the image of the invisible God (Colossians 1:15; 3:3-4; Hebrews 1:3). Joyfully obeying Jesus the Lord, loving and worshiping God, putting off our old ways and putting on the new, and loving our neighbors as ourselves is our life, our meaning and purpose and goal, our telos. Being able to do this does not depend on our circumstances or our means (Philippians 4:4-7, 12-13; 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18). We can love God and follow Jesus anywhere, at any time. All we really "need for life and godliness" is the "knowledge of him who called us by his own glory and goodness" (2 Peter 1:3-4).
So whether or not the Detroit Tigers win the A.L. Pennant, or if the Glen Allen HS cross country team is a flop, or if I get irritable with my wife for the seventy-eighth time, or if I have to go a month without a paycheck, or if I never go to seminary--none of this matters. I've lost nothing. I don't need to do any more to become more forgiven or more loved by God or more secure in my salvation. I don't need to worry that empty cupboards will threaten our livelihood. I don't need to fear that my sins will overtake me or that I lose if I'm exposed. I've lost nothing. And I don't gain anything else either if all I ever dreamed of happens. I am full in Christ, who is my life.
The authors point out that one way to test our grasp of the gospel is how we understand Colossians 2:9-10: "For in Christ the fullness of the Deity lives in bodily form, and you have been given fullness in Christ, who is the head over every power and authority." The gospel also includes the reality that "Christ . . . is your life" (3:4). This word really speaks to me, challenges me right now.
Our lives in Richmond aren't all that we dreamed of: no secure job yet for Olivia, a stressful job for me last year, few meaningful friendships, feeling a little unsettled at church, odd neighbors. I'm also aware of how growth in holiness (read: devoted love to God and to others) is often slow, arduous, and humbling. I am most aware of this in my marriage. And yet, as Dietrich Bonhoeffer once said, God wants us to live fulfilled lives in spite of many unfulfilled desires (Brevier). How is this possible? It's only when I acknowledge I am complete in Christ.
If we lose something valuable to us or lack what we desire, even need, we still have Christ. He is our life. He encompasses all that we need for life and godliness (2 Peter 1:3-4). All he is, he is for us; and all he owns and reigns over is ours as well (Luke 12:32). Christ didn't just earn forgiveness for our past sins. He also, and he alone, holds and secures our good, both today and in the future. Being children of God and heirs of his kingdom (Romans 8:17), beloved, indwelled by the Holy Spirit and completely forgiven of all our sins--nothing can change this (Romans 8:37-39).
When "Christ . . . is my life," this also clarifies my purpose and prevents me from despairing that I may be in a situation where I'm achieving or accomplishing little worthwhile. It also cuts out the fallacy that at some point in the future I might be able to more effectively live out my God-intended purpose. God's real purpose for us, our destiny, is to live as disciples of Jesus Christ and take on his image, renewed in true holiness and righteousness (Romans 8:29; Ephesians 4:24; Colossians 3:10). We are meant to share the Son's glory as the image of the invisible God (Colossians 1:15; 3:3-4; Hebrews 1:3). Joyfully obeying Jesus the Lord, loving and worshiping God, putting off our old ways and putting on the new, and loving our neighbors as ourselves is our life, our meaning and purpose and goal, our telos. Being able to do this does not depend on our circumstances or our means (Philippians 4:4-7, 12-13; 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18). We can love God and follow Jesus anywhere, at any time. All we really "need for life and godliness" is the "knowledge of him who called us by his own glory and goodness" (2 Peter 1:3-4).
So whether or not the Detroit Tigers win the A.L. Pennant, or if the Glen Allen HS cross country team is a flop, or if I get irritable with my wife for the seventy-eighth time, or if I have to go a month without a paycheck, or if I never go to seminary--none of this matters. I've lost nothing. I don't need to do any more to become more forgiven or more loved by God or more secure in my salvation. I don't need to worry that empty cupboards will threaten our livelihood. I don't need to fear that my sins will overtake me or that I lose if I'm exposed. I've lost nothing. And I don't gain anything else either if all I ever dreamed of happens. I am full in Christ, who is my life.
Saturday, June 12, 2010
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!"
________________________
*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.
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!"
________________________
*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.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
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!
________________________
*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.
Thursday, June 3, 2010
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.
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.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
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?
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?
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
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!
Monday, May 17, 2010
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.
____________
*"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)
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
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.
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.
Friday, May 7, 2010
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?
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
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.
Sunday, May 2, 2010
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)
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)
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
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:
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:
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.
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.
___________
*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.
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.
___________
*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.
Saturday, April 17, 2010
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 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/
Friday, April 2, 2010
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)
Thursday, April 1, 2010
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"
"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.
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
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:
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).
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).
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