Baptism in the Reformed confessions

So far I have described baptism's function as a sign and seal of the new covenant promises. Perhaps a few relevant, if redundant, quotes from various Reformed confessions and catechisms would be helpful at this point.


From the Heidelberg Catechism:

Question 66: What are sacraments?
Sacraments are holy signs and seals for us to see. They were instituted by God so that by our use of them he might make us understand more clearly the promise of the gospel, and might put his seal on that promise. And this is God's gospel promise: to forgive us our sins and give us eternal life by grace alone because of Christ's one sacrifice finished on the cross.

Question 69: How does baptism remind you and assure you that Christ's one sacrifice on the cross is for you personally?
In this way: Christ instituted this outward washing and with it gave the promise that, as surely as water washes away the dirt from the body, so certainly his blood and his Spirit wash away my soul's impurity, in other words, all my sins.

From the Belgic Confession:

Article 33: The Sacraments
We believe that our good God, mindful of our crudeness and weakness, has ordained sacraments for us to seal his promises in us, to pledge his good will and grace toward us, and also to nourish and sustain our faith.

He has added these to the Word of the gospel to represent better to our external senses both what he enables us to understand by his Word and what he does inwardly in our hearts, confirming in us the salvation he imparts to us.

For they are visible signs and seals of something internal and invisible, by means of which God works in us through the power of the Holy Spirit. So they are not empty and hollow signs to fool and deceive us, for their truth is in Jesus Christ, without whom they would be nothing.

Article 34: The Sacrament of Baptism
. . . Having abolished circumcision, which was done with blood, [Jesus Christ] established in its place the sacrament of baptism. By it we are received into God's church and set apart from all other people and alien religions, that we may be dedicated entirely to him, bearing his mark and sign. It also witnesses to us that he will be our God forever, since he is our gracious Father. . . .

In this way [that is, water baptism] he signifies to us that just as water washes away the dirt of the body when it is poured on us and also is seen on the body of the baptized when it is sprinkled on him, so too the blood of Christ does the same thing internally, in the soul, by the Holy Spirit. It washes and cleanses it from its sins and transformed us from being the children of wrath into the children of God. . . .

So ministers, as far as their work is concerned, give us the sacraments and what is visible, but our Lord gives [to those whom he has foreknown] what the sacrament signifies--namely the invisible gifts and graces; washing, purifying, and cleansing our souls of all filth and unrighteousness; renewing our hearts and filling them with all comfort; giving us true assurance of his fatherly goodness; clothing us with the "new man" and stripping off the "old," with all its works.

From the Westminster Confession of Faith:

Sacraments are holy signs and seals of the covenant of grace, immediately instituted by God, to represent Christ, and his benefits; and to confirm our interest in him: as also, to put a visible difference between those that belong unto the church, and the rest of the world; and solemnly to engage them to the service of God in Christ, according to his Word. (27:1)

There is, in every sacrament, a spiritual relation, or sacramental union, between the sign and the thing signified: whence it comes to pass, that the names and effects of the one are attributed to the other. (27:2)

The grace which is exhibited in or by the sacraments rightly used, is not conferred by any power in them; neither doth the efficacy of a sacrament depend upon the piety or intention of him that doth administer it: but upon the work of the Spirit, and the word of institution, which contains . . . a promise of benefit to worthy receivers. (27:3)

Baptism is a sacrament of the new testament, ordained by Jesus Christ, not only for the solemn admission of the party baptized into the visible church; but also, to be unto him a sign and seal of the covenant of grace, of his ingrafting into Christ, of regeneration, of remission of sins, and of his giving up unto God, through Jesus Christ, to walk in newness of life. . . . (28:1)

Although it be a great sin to contemn or neglect this ordinance, yet grace and salvation are not so inseparably annexed unto it, as that no person can be regenerated, or saved, without it; or, that all that are baptized are undoubtedly regenerated. (28:5)

The efficacy of Baptism is not tied to that moment of time wherein it is administered; yet, notwithstanding, by the right use of this ordinance, the grace promised is not only offered, but really exhibited, and conferred, by the Holy Ghost, to such (whether of age or infants) as that grace belongeth unto, according to the counsel of God's own will, in his appointed time. (28:6)

Baptism V: A visible gospel "signed, sealed, and delivered" to the believer

Because these great blessings secured by Christ and offered through grace alone are signified in baptism—complete cleansing from unrighteousness, the renewal and fellowship of the Holy Spirit, access to God, and empowerment for service—we can say that baptism is a “visible gospel” illustrating the promises of God to all who believe. But this is the key point: just as OT Israel only received the promises and remained in God’s favor by faith that led to obedience, so too do only those undergo baptism receive the promises by faith. Circumcision represented a transformation of the heart that led one to love God and obey him (Deut. 10:16; 30:6; Ezek. 36:24-27). Those who received circumcision in their flesh alone were considered “uncircumcised” and rejected by God (Jer. 9:25-26; cf. Rom. 2:25-29), because this circumcision in body also pointed to the need for a circumcised heart. In the same way, we need to see baptism both pointing to our need for the renewal of our hearts and love for God, and also as a promise that he will graciously give us his Holy Spirit who will give us obedient love.

Just as the gospel message can be rejected in its verbal form—and this is certainly the fullest—it, too, can be rejected in its watery form. For those who are baptized but do not believe, baptism is a watery judgment like the flood in Noah’s day (1 Pet. 3:19-21). Likewise the Israelites were "baptized into Moses" at the Red Sea, yet many grumbled in discontent and fell into apostasy and sin and never reached the Promised Land (1 Cor. 10:1-5). This may be at root in the warnings in Hebrews 6 and 10; covenant members who were baptized and participated in the spiritual life of the church nonetheless took a path of disbelief and rejection of Christ, and so stand condemned. Like the foreskin of Israelites with uncircumcised hearts, so too unbelievers die in their own blood.

This ought to show clearly that reception of the covenant sign does not automatically ensure reception of the covenant promises; faith is always required by God. Those who trusted in their national heritage as Jews and circumcised “children of Abraham” but were filled with self-love and produced no fruit were shut out from the kingdom of heaven. So too will all baptized people who trust only in the sign of baptism and not the Person given therein will hear the words, “Away from me, you evildoers. I never knew you!”

But all that is to overlook the chief function of baptism in the NT. Peter’s main point is to emphasize the grace given to us, that “baptism now saves you . . . through the resurrection of Jesus Christ” (3:21). Jesus rose from the dead and secured eternal life for all who would trust in him and repent of their sins, seeking their righteousness in his fulfilled obedience alone and their forgiveness in his atoning death alone. In this way do all who “appeal to God for a good conscience” receive eternal life in his gracious favor.

Baptism thus ought to strengthen our faith by assuring us that we are in indeed washed clean from sin and made new in Christ. When the believer looks upon his baptism, he sees the gift of God in bringing him into his people as a “child of God” instead of leaving him out in the world as a “child of wrath” where Christ is not named, and he is thus assured of God’s fellowship. The believer sees that promised love and blessings came first, even when he was still a powerless infant or perhaps a new believer still weak in faith and strong in sin. Salvation is of God’s initiative and work, especially when viewed in terms of rebirth (no one gives birth to himself). And we see in baptism God’s gracious calling, to which we rightly respond with a clean conscience and full assurance of faith, having had our bodies washed with pure water (1 Pet. 3:21; Heb. 10:19-22). In baptism the believer sees and trusts the fact that the death of Christ was not withheld from him, but that he was plunged into this death, justified from sin, and consequently raised with him. The believer is assured that he has been reborn of the Holy Spirit, and that the Spirit makes him God’s son, secures his inheritance, and enables his sanctification. He is assured in baptism that he is set apart to God for priestly service—with priestly access! And, lest we forget that warnings are also blessings, we are guided by God in baptism to a knowledge both of sin we are to avoid and the faithful, rescuing Lord which we are to cling to.

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Of course, I've been continually referring to this assurance given to the believer. I'll ever stand by sola fide; and I trust you'll see the evidence of that here. The believer can know that God has given him all these blessings of purification from sin, forgiveness, access to his throne of grace, and the Counselor's fellowship and empowering for a life of love-and-holiness. How so? Because all of these are truly given to the believer. Everything pledged and portrayed in baptism is made good in the life of the believer--that is to say, in the lives of God's elect. Salvation is only for those whom he has foreknown, those who are beloved before time. (Do you get it now?) Hear these words of the Westminster Confession of Faith:

The efficacy of Baptism is not tied to that moment of time wherein it is administered; yet, notwithstanding, by the right use of this ordinance, the grace promised is not only offered, but really exhibited, and conferred, by the Holy Ghost, to such (whether of age or infants) as that grace belongeth unto [i.e., the elect], according to the counsel of God's own will, in his appointed time. (28.6, italics added)

God does demand faith for the reception of his promises. In fact, salvation (the future sense before Christ's judgment seat) is contingent upon a faith that perseveres. But the beauty of God's grace is that everything he requires of us, this he himself provides freely, even repentance and faith. As the old song goes:

Come ye sinners, come and welcome,
God's free bounty glorify:
True belief and true repentance,
Every grace that brings you nigh.

Let us praise him for his great grace and trust in it all the more!

Baptism IV: "Circumcision in the NT"

Following on the heels of last week's post III on circumcision in the OT, I'm going to keep on fleshing out my current beliefs about the Christian rite of water baptism. As you read, please consider that I am only hoping to clarify for myself and others what I believe and understand; I am not trying to develop a comprehensive theology of anything. And I hope to do this all without being like those who, according to St. Paul, "have wandered away into vain discussion, desiring to be teachers . . . without understanding either what they are saying or the things about which they make confident assertions" (1 Tim. 1:7).
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In Part III I hoped to show that circumcision in the Old Testament was a sign and seal of the Abrahamic covenant. Receiving circumcision also marked off those belonging to Israel and set them apart to a holy life.

The New Testament speaks much the same way about baptism and indicates that it replaces circumcision under the new covenant, which is for all peoples, Gentile and Jew alike. What did new converts do as soon as they heard the gospel of the God of Abraham and followed in his footsteps of faith? They were baptized (e.g., Acts 2:38-39; 8:12-13). What was the outward event that represented consecration to the Lord and a clean heart? Baptism. When the Ethiopian worshiper of the Lord (who read the Old Testament and considered himself among Israel by traveling to Jerusalem to observe the festivals) came to faith in Christ and realized the fulfillment of the new covenant promises, what happened? He was baptized (Acts 8:36-39)! Like foreigners in the past wishing to join themselves to God’s covenant community, who received circumcision, here and in Acts 10:45-48 Gentiles instead received the sign of baptism. Both circumcision and baptism signify God’s covenants, mark inclusion into his covenant people (the church, the body of Christ; 1 Cor. 12:13), and place persons under God’s authority and ownership (this ownership and authority is likely what is meant by being baptized “in [or into] the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit”; Matt. 28:19).

Why baptism with water? Why not circumcision any more? (1) Blood-shedding was now done with, finished. Jesus’ shed blood has sufficed, and no more does blood need to be shed to point us to God’s redemption. Jesus’ death was referred to as a “circumcision” (Col. 2:11; note the link between circumcision and baptism here). (2) Water is highly illustrative of new covenant realities. Water is an agent of cleansing, showing the work of Christ to purify us from our sins. Special bathing made both priests and others ritually clean to approach God. Water was used in consecration to priesthood, and we are all now a “kingdom of priests” (cf. 1 Pet. 2:9; Rev. 1:6) who all have access to God to offer works of service. Water is linked to the “outpouring” of the Holy Spirit, who creates life and renewal (Ezek. 36:24-27; Joel 2:28 [Acts 2:]; Isa. 44:3-5; Rom 5:5).

Baptism III: Cutting a covenant, entering Israel

As my friend Ryan wisely advises, “in any attempt to hammer out a theology of ‘whatever’ from the New Testament we have to listen for the Old Testament echoes.” We can’t understand what a band of Jewish men believed to be such wonderful News if we have no idea what they believed or what hope they were looking for—“hope in the promise made by God to our fathers” (Acts 26:6-7). And it must suffice for now to say that the summary of the Bible is the story of God’s covenant promise(s) to rescue a cursed and estranged world from sin and become the God of a redeemed people. Abraham received the promise that his seed would receive an inheritance and become a great nation of blessing for all nations. Being part of Israel, where God’s blessings lived and were promised (see Rom. 9:4-5; Eph. 2:12, 19; 3:6), meant being a “son of Abraham” (e.g., Luke 3:8).

Many biblical covenants between God and men have some sort of visual “sign” and “seal” accompanying them. The Noahic covenant was given the rainbow to show that God has made a promise not to curse the world through rain ever again; it is a sign pointing to a promise, and it is a seal guaranteeing its reality. It’s like God saying, “See that rainbow? I’ve put it in the sky both to remind you of my promise (sign) and to guarantee its fulfillment, because as surely as it is real and shown to you, so too is my promise real for you (a seal).”

In Genesis 17 Abraham is told to circumcise himself and his whole household: “You shall be circumcised in the flesh of your foreskins, and it shall be a sign of the covenant between me and you” (17:11). In other words, forgetful and fickle Abraham could look at his circumcised body and see in it God’s promise to bless him and make from his seed a great nation. In like fashion, today we give wedding rings to illustrate (as a sign) a covenant between a husband and wife. When a woman sees the ring on her finger, she is reminded of her husband’s vows that he will love her and be faithful to her at all times. Likewise, that ring is a seal in that when it’s put on the bride, the promises are not only pledged but enacted; the man now has become her husband, and the ring assures her of this.

Because this covenant was not with Abraham alone, but with all his offspring, God demanded that his whole household, including infants (Note this!) and foreigners, be circumcised (17:12). God’s promise was to bring about blessing through Abraham’s children—a blessing that would one day be for “all the families of the earth” (12:3). Even in later years, after the Exodus from slavery in Egypt, when a foreigner joined the people of Israel, he was to receive circumcision (Exod. 12:48). Circumcision was therefore both a sign of God’s covenant and a mark of inclusion into the covenant people of Israel.

But receiving the “sign of circumcision” and entering Israel also meant being consecrated to the Lord and living under his authority. It meant separating oneself from the unclean practices of the nations, trusting in the Lord’s character as the great I AM, and obediently following his Law. Belonging to God to inherit his promises also necessitated obedience; hence the circumcised people of Israel were a “covenant community” separated from the nations and sanctified unto him. They were thus called to trust in God and love him unreservedly. Because of this, cleansing and circumcision were often used synonymously (cf. Deut. 30:6), and “uncircumcised” and “unclean” were used the same way (cf. 1 Sam. 14:6; Isa. 52:1; Ezek. 44:9). Being both circumcised in heart and flesh were required of God (see Rom. 2:25-29); the former alone would not suffice. Rather, the former pointed to the need for the latter and encouraged the Israelite to live in faith.

In Romans 4:11, we also see that circumcision is also said to be a “sign” and a “seal,” guaranteeing to Abraham the reception of the promises given to him. “He received the sign of circumcision as a seal of the righteousness that he had by faith while he was still uncircumcised.” Paul’s point is that it isn’t circumcision or any ritual that justifies anyone; bearing the marks alone of inclusion into Israel did nothing (again an ex opera operato presumption). Rather, it was certainly faith that caused Abraham to be reckoned righteous before God (the argument of Romans 4). But he does teach that the reception of circumcision guaranteed to Abraham the righteousness credited to him on account of his faith (4:3; cf. Gen. 15:6).

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In the next posts, I will attempt to explain how baptism is the New Covenant replacement of circumcision, and what that means for our lives.

Baptism II: Seeing through my lenses

While not neglecting any of the educated, gracious comments from Ted, I'm going to continue with this course I've plotted:

There is a lot of what I see as misinterpretation concerning baptismal nature and efficacy stemming from what I see as widespread Modernist mistakes—though some of these antedate the Modern/Enlightenment era. Here are some of the underlying tenets that I see necessary in a biblical view of the sacraments.

(1) Baptism is an act of God, not of man. We are misled when we ask what baptism does. Baptism doesn’t do anything. Rather, it is the triune God who acts for us in the “washing of water with the word” (where it is Christ who washes his church, Eph. 5:26). “The question therefore is not what the sacraments do to us, but what God does for us with them” (Michael Horton, God of Promise, p. 153).

(2) Grace is not a substance to be mechanically channeled, but the free favor of a loving, personal God. See my previous post on this. This is where the Roman church has completely strayed and what causes many Protestant churches to balk at talk of any sort of automatic “baptismal regeneration” or anything akin to it. Any notion of the sacraments working ex opere operato ("from the deed having been performed") is completely ruled out.

(3) God works immediately through means. Christian mysticists and evangelical revivalists have tended to favor some sort of “immediate” fellowship with God apart from means. However, the Bible tells us that Christ himself speaks to people and draws near to them through the preached Word (Rom. 10). A verbal message—whether incarnate, written words or an incarnate, spoken voice—are a means that God uses to bring us into fellowship with him. The gospel message is said to call people into fellowship with God and itself create new birth (2 Thess. 2:14; James 1:18; 1 Pet. 1:23-25). God’s saving work is inseparable from physical means.

We can view the sacraments in the same fashion. As Jesus was the incarnate Word (John 1), so does he say that bread and wine are his body and blood through which his reconciling death is given for men. And in the Great Commission he commands his disciples to make more disciples by two means: baptizing them and teaching them. I could go on about this forever, but it would probably be easier to read this post.

At the same time, the “means of grace” don’t create some sort of detached intermediary between us and God. “There is [only] one mediator between God and men, the man Jesus Christ"; and he is truly present and active in his Word and Sacraments. We can truly know him and find life in him therein; we can have immediate fellowship through means. This is because the forgiveness and life and newness offered us in baptism and the Eucharist are none other than Christ himself; salvation does not exist apart from Christ and union with him.

(4) Baptism is baptism. In all the references to baptism in the NT epistles, the Christian rite of water baptism is in view—not some separate “Spirit baptism.” The baptism of normal Christian experience must be in view, because nowhere else does Paul or other writers make any sort of distinction. When Paul writes to a body of believers about their baptism (e.g., Rom. 6:3-11; Gal. 3:26-27; Col. 2:11-12), he has to be talking about something they already knew, experienced, and had undergone. Besides this, perhaps more obvious is the fact that reception of the Holy Spirit is generally linked with water baptism (e.g., Acts 2:38; 10:47; 1 Cor. 12:13; Tit. 3:5)

(4) The body of Christ is the body of Christ—that is, the church. 1 Corinthians 12:13 says that “we were all baptized by one Spirit into one body.” It is clear from the following verses that that body is the visible church, which is “the body of Christ” (v. 27). We need to understand union with Christ in baptism as entrance into the visible church. It seems that for Paul there was no distinction between entering a renewing fellowship with the Head and entering the fellowship of his Body. This is what probably involves the greatest mystery of all regarding baptism.

(5) Rites actually change who we are. Scripture does affirm the human being as consisting of a "body," a "soul," and a "spirit". However, it's a mistake to separate what happens to the “spiritual me” from the “physical me,” as nothing ever actually happened to just me. This Greek matter-spirit dualism still exists despite being denounced and trashed and decried as heresy by the apostles and the church Fathers (see all of John’s Gospel and epistles). The Hebrew, and thus biblical, worldview knew nothing of this.

A rite involving water, or a ram’s head (ancient Near Eastern covenant acts), or a wedding ring, or signing a contract actually changes who we are. George W. Bush used to be a presidential candidate; now by virtue of his inauguration rite he is the President, with all the accompanying privileges and responsibilities. A man receives a ring upon his finger from his bride and now truly has a new identity: a husband. Sure, his infidelity to his wife may mean he’s a poor, unfaithful, reckless husband who betrays the pledge he made, but he is still a husband nonetheless. In fact, the covenant he made in his wedding vows and symbolized by wedding rings only further serves to condemn him as unfaithful.

Baptism I

At Olivia's prompting, I'm starting to put down in words what I believe about baptism (and perhaps, later, the Lord's Supper). Like all good theological expositions, the best are probably the most concise. When someone needs to use a ton of verbage, he probably doesn't know what he's talking about (enter: most philosophers). Yet being a verbal processor, I seem to lack the ability to state what I want to say in a few, well-thought words. As I strive for brevity and clarity, forgive my drifts into locquaciousness.

The Bible isn't concrete about its meaning and practice.

Until Ulrich Zwingli broke with historic church teaching and practice in the 1500s, both the Eastern and Western churches had seemingly always practiced infant baptism and viewed it as a great communication of God’s grace to sinful humans. Zwingli and the Anabaptists, with their resulting baptism only of professing believers, were a new phenomenon. But are they wholly baseless in their theology, especially in light of the Reformation’s cry, Sola scriptura? I think not. The reality is that the biblical instances of the word “baptism” and “water” and “washing” and the like are fairly ambiguous.

(1) The Acts of the Apostles shows many new converts to Christianity being baptized, with a belief-then-baptism order. Accordingly, all churches unanimously agree that adult converts who have not grown up in the “covenant community” of the church need to receive baptism when they confess their faith in the Lord Jesus. But Acts is silent about children born within the church to believing parents. Valid arguments cannot be made from silence (i.e., "because it doesn't say this, it clearly cannot say this"). We must always have positive arguments for or against something.

(2) Acts does mention explicitly the baptism of whole households (16:15, 33). However, two things are not mentioned: whether or not children were present or included in the “household”; and whether or not everyone in the household had confessed faith in Christ. The varying translations of these passages allow for varied inferences. (In the aforementioned passages the NIV leaves one thinking that personal faith of each member was involved, while the ESV gives the impression that the faith of the household’s head was the prime element, leading to others’ salvation.)

(3) Passages referring to baptism are explicitly and strongly tied to rebirth, renewal, the outpouring of the Holy Spirit, faith, repentance, forgiveness, water, and washing (e.g., Acts 2:38-39; 22:16; Rom. 6:3-4; Gal. 3:26-27; Eph. 5:26; Col. 2:11-12; Tit. 3:5; 1 Pet. 3:21). It’s impossible to separate baptism from these blessings secured by Jesus' redemptive work. However, there is no explicit explanation in Scripture of whether baptism effects and confirms these things in the life of the believer, or whether baptism is the response of the believer to his previous Spiritual rebirth and ingrafting into the body of Christ. I tend to embrace the former view.

(4) Several passages using “water” and “washing” (loutron; literally, “bath”), along with “enlighten”, have traditionally been interpreted as baptismal references. (For “water” and “washing”, see John 3:5; Acts 22:16; Eph. 5:26; Tit. 3:5; Heb. 10:22; for “enlighten” see Heb. 6:4; 10:32). However, valid explanations of these apart from baptism exist that do not demand baptism as the referent. But I must agree with Dr. Michael Horton when he warns, “one bends over backwards to explain away passages in which [water] baptism is explicitly linked to regeneration and forgiveness of sins” (God of Promise, p. 153).

For these reasons I view baptismal doctrine and practice with a degree of charity, recognizing that one cannot be too dogmatic about the interpretation of these passages. Yet at the same time we’re seeking to be faithful to the God-breathed canon alone as our standard, there are two caveats to keep in mind. (1) Biblical interpretation can never be divorced from the Spirit-filled church through whom and for whom it was written, and among whom it is lived. Truth is guarded by the Spirit’s work in the church, and therefore we have creeds and confessions that guard orthodox interpretations and practices. Sola scriptura means that our beliefs are based in Scripture alone, but not in Scripture that is alone. (2) Because the goal of the Scriptures is the life of God’s people, I think we must consider the implications of our baptismal theology and what effects result in the life of the church. Where the Bible is ambiguous regarding a matter, we ought to ask, all else being equal, Does this exalt the free and sovereign grace of the holy, triune God who acts in history to redeem the world? Does it lead us to boast in him alone—or is the emphasis on our decisions, works, and resources? Sola scriptura is not without soli Deo gloria.

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Forthcoming posts will likely follow these topics:

(1) Laying the groundwork: seeing through my lenses. (2) Baptism is the NT counterpart of OT circumcision. (3) Baptism is therefore a sign and seal of the covenant of grace. (4) Baptism not only pledges mercy but also contains a warning. (5) Baptism involves mystery. (6) Baptism is eschatological. (7) Infant baptism is not only valid, but the most fitting expression of grace. (8) Baptism of believers alone can actually serve to undermine the function of baptism (but this is not true of all credobaptism). (9) All modes of baptism (submersion, pouring, or sprinkling) are appropriate.

If and when I continue these posts, know that they are simply a way for me to express what I currently believe. I am hardly an expert on such things, and my beliefs are always open to change.

Barth's ghost?

Right now at Panera I'm sitting next to an elderly gentleman who bears an uncanny resemblance to the late, great Karl Barth. I think it's funny. Perhaps it's even funnier that I know what Barth looks like.

God saves sinners

In a few weeks' time I'll begin my first (and hopefully not only) seminary class, Introduction to Pastoral and Theological Studies (a.k.a. Reformed boot camp) at Reformed Theological Seminary. One of the course's themes is that God saves sinners. That is, that the Trinity wholly begins, achieves, and completes the deliverance and glorification of a hopelessly corrupt and wickedly vile people lovingly and freely chosen to exist by God, for God.

The first reading for our class is J. I. Packer's introductory essay to John Owen's The Death of Death in the Death of Christ (1648). Owen's treatise is considered one of the most complete works ever on the saving work of Christ and fully promotes the truth and excellency of what has unfortunately been called "limited atonement." I've been very on-again, off-again regarding this notion--that Jesus only effectively died for a finite and fixed number of people whom God has, in his ineffable wisdom, marked out for glory before the universe even began. But consider this paragraph from Packer's preface:

Calvinism that insists on taking seriously the biblical assertions that God saves, and that He saves those whom He has chosen to save, and that He saves them by grace without works, so that no man may boast, and that Christ is given to them as a perfect Saviour, and that their whole salvation flows to them from the Cross, and that the work of redeeming them was finished on the Cross. It is Calvinism that gives due honour to the Cross. When the Calvinist sings:

“There is a green hill far away, Without a city wall, Where the dear Lord was crucified, Who died to save us all; He died the we might be forgiven, He died to make us good; That we might go at last to Heaven, Saved by His precious blood.”

—he means it. He will not gloss the italicised statements by saying that God’s saving purpose in the death of His Son was a mere ineffectual wish, depending for its fulfilment on man’s willingness to believe, so that for all God could do Christ might have died and none been saved at all. He insists that the Bible sees the Cross as revealing God’s power to save, not His impotence. Christ did not win a hypothetical salvation for hypothetical believers, a mere possibility of salvation for any who might possibly believe, but a real salvation for His own chosen people. His precious blood really does “save us all”; the intended effects of His self-offering do in fact follow, just because the Cross was what it was. Its saving power does not depend on faith being added to it; its saving power is such that faith flows from it. The Cross secured the full salvation of all for whom Christ died. “God forbid,” therefore, “that I should glory, save in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ." (Emphasis added)

Amazing to think, eh? Not easy--but amazing grace indeed.

The Baptized life: between two worlds

In a recent post I wrote about the dawn of Jesus’ first coming, the new day into which we’ve been transferred (Colossians 1:12-14). “The darkness is passing away and the true light is already shining” (1 John 2:8; cf. 2:17). The tricky thing is that the darkness is not yet gone; the sun of righteousness (Malachi 4:2) has not yet reached its zenith. We still live in “this present evil age [aeon; also translated frequently as world]” (Galatians 1:4). The new age of God’s kingdom, the age of the Second Adam has begun, and its brightness shall surely reign (Revelation 11:15 ff.), but the age of the First Adam has not yet disappeared.

I feel this tension in my own life.

As a friend keenly observed, Christ’s Resurrection put an end to all powers and authorities of this age, including death, sin, and all personal and systematic evil. They no longer have mastery over the Messiah-King and those who belong to him (1 Corinthians 15:24-27; cf. Romans 6:9; 2 Timothy 1:10). For us, to hear and trustingly receiving the message of Jesus, of the manger and Calvary and the empty tomb, means to hear the message that the old aeon, the “world as we know it,” is judged and doomed. It is to be eradicated along with its ruler (Revelation 12; 20:11-15). In Jesus Christ, however, as pointed to by his miracles, something decisively new has come; the “age to come” has arrived.

In baptism and through faith, we have had the Holy Spirit poured out on us and have been joined to this New Man. We are made partakers of and participants in “the powers of the age to come” (Hebrews 6:5; cf. Romans 6:3-11). “Now to be baptized and so buried with Christ into His death is, in union with Him,” writes Richard Jungkuntz, “to have received and accepted God’s verdict of guilty and His cataclysmic judgment of death on the whole old aeon to which a sinful man belongs. Baptism therefore means the end of the old aeon” (The Gospel of Baptism, 2^nd ed., p. 62). And this death—of the old age and of the power and guilt of sin in our lives—happens nowhere else than at the Cross.

It is precisely because of the Cross that our lives look so sin-plagued and lackluster: the victory is a hidden one. Sinful men, following the reign of Satan and Religion and Rome, put Jesus to death, his “circumcision” and his “baptism” (Mark 10:39; Luke 12:50; Colossians 2:11). But it was precisely here that he put them to open shame, triumphing over the “powers” and stripping them of their sham authority (Colossians 2:15; John 12:31 f.). The victory is masked in the dying and shame, the victory that has brought this already-but-not-yet kingdom. Likewise, if the Christ-death and Christ-rising are to take place in our lives, if the kingdom is to come in us, then it must take the form of the Cross. We don’t see blazing defeat of sin left and right; but we must trust that the victory is ours.

We who are baptized, who trust in the Rescuer, live between two worlds; both are present inside us as long as we live in “this body of death” (Romans 7:24). The question is, Which reality will we choose to live in? Will we continue to believe in the powers of the old world, or will we believe that Christ as Lord has effected a radically different order, one that lasts eternally (1 John 2:17)? Now the kingdom lies hidden, and we must go to it where it is found: in dying to ourselves, embracing God’s judgment on our sinful nature, and taking those painful yet liberating steps to walk in newness of life. As Jesus died and triumphed through a shameful public death, we participate in the Cross by confession, bringing our shameful sins to the light before God and others. And so, one day soon, though our eternal life and righteousness are hidden with our Savior, “when Christ who is your life appears, then you also will appear with him in glory” (Colossians 3:3-4).

“Being dipped under the water and emerging from it indicate the power and effect of Baptism, which is simply the slaying of the old Adam and the resurrection of the new man, both of which actions must continue in us our whole life long. Thus a Christian life is nothing else than a daily baptism, once begun and ever continued.” (Luther’s Large Catechism, IV, 65)

To dwell with the contrite and lowly

Over Advent and Christmastide, I had been reading a collection of Advent and Christmas sermons by Dietrich Bonhoeffer, and I thought I’d pass along some comforting insights of his into the Christmas message, the news that God chose not a mighty king and lord, with clean nails and an Armani suit and perfect teeth, but a lowly baby in a feed trough. As he promises to dwell with and comfort those who weep over their contemptible sin (Isaiah 57:15) and raise up the poor and oppressed (Luke 1:51-53) so did he fulfill those promises at Christmas.

God is not ashamed to be with those of humble state. . . . He loves the lost, the forgotten, the insignificant, the outcasts, the weak, and the broken. Where men say, “lost,” he says “found;” where men say, “condemned,” he says, “redeemed;” where men say, “no,” he says “yes.” Where men look with indifference or superiority, he looks with burning love, such as nowhere else is to be found. Where men say, “contemptible!,” God cries, “blessed.” When we reach a point in our lives at which we are not only ashamed of ourselves, but believe God is ashamed of us too, when we feel so far from God, more than we have ever felt in our lives, then and precisely then, God is nearer to us than he has ever been. It is then that he breaks into our lives. It is then that he lets us know that the feeling of despair is taken away from us, so that we may grasp the wonder of his love, his nearness to us, and his grace. (From a sermon based on Luke 1:46-55; December 17, 1933)

I think this is powerful. Right when we’ve been so humbled and crushed under the burden of our sin, when we think we are the most wretched of all beings and worthy of nothing but eternal contempt—right here is God near to us, is God for us. In love for us he was disfigured and despised and himself bore the full weight of our transgressions (Isaiah 52:13—53:6). How can we run away from him in when our ugliness comes to light? How can we flee his open arms, thinking that we’re not lovely enough to be loved? I wish I had the answer to such doubting questions—because I do flee in disbelief.

And from a sermon on Isaiah 9:6-7:

Precisely in the lowliness and weakness of the child is the beginning of his taking the government of all the world upon him. The head of the house indicates his government over the house by the key which he hands over his shoulder. That shows that he has the authority to open or shut the door, to let people in or to show them out, as he will. And that is also the way that the cross over his shoulder shows his authority as governor. He opens to those whose sins he forgives, and he shuts out the proud. That is the nature of the child’s government, that he receives the humble, the lowly and sinners, bearing their burden, but he rejects and brings to nothing the proud, the high and the mighty, the self-righteous. (Christmas 1940)

Still around, and blessings abound

Okay, I'll admit that I haven't posted anything in a few weeks. I've got a few things ruminating in my mind that may be posted soon, but I'm pretty sure that I still have no Internet access from home. (Although Cavalier Telephone Systems--boo! hiss!--claims otherwise, and has sent me a $213 bill to boot.) Nonetheless, I've got to say that "the LORD's lovingkindnesses indeed never cease" (Lamentations 3:23) despite the frequent suspension and wavering of mine.

First seminary course? At the urging of Matt Purdy, a pastor at WEPC, I think I'm going to take Introduction to Pastoral and Theological Studies this spring. Dr. Howard Griffith from Reformed Theological Seminary (Washington, D.C.) will be teaching at RTS once a month on weekends. The trick is that I need to get eight people to take the class for RTS credit in order for me to take it for free. I would really like to take this class for a number of reasons. I love studying and academia, and my seminarian friends all continue to urge me to pursue some sort of formal theological education. On top of that, I think it would be wise to take a course in pastoral theology to help further refine my "next step" past being a schoolteacher--whenever that will come.

Richmond Magazine. In the new edition of Richmond magazine, the feature article is about jobs and salaries. Guess what high school teacher is featured on page 88? That's right, this recent "transplant from Michigan." It's pretty cool that lots of other faculty at Hermitage read it and found me, their magazines in tow.

Friends and festivals. Christmas break was a blast, if full of travel, stress, tension, and not quite enough reading, study, or sleep. This was my first Christmas at home with my family since 2004, and it was nice to be there and feel loved and normal. I also got to see some good old friends--and a much prettier new one as well.

Christianity Today. Guess what the feature article is in the latest Christianity Today magazine? It's titled "Jesus in Turkey," and it features a Turkish evangelical pastor and church that was near my apartment in Istanbul. I know the pastor and some of the worshipers pictured in the article. It was such a treat to see that and know that this article is likely causing many of the faithful across America to learn about Turkish Christians and intercede for their faith and labor in the Lord. But oh, how it made me miss Istanbul!

I have a bed. And for free! A friend and coworker gave me her twin-sized mattress and box spring this past weekend. How nice it is to sleep on something other than an air mattress or my couch!

Winter solstice

[By] the tender mercy of our God
. . . the sunrise shall dawn upon us from on high
to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death,
to guide our feet into the way of peace. (Luke 1:78-79, ESV margin; cf. RSV)

Today is December 21, the winter solstice. Tonight will mark the longest night of the entire calendar year here in the northern hemisphere--just over fifteen hours here in Michigan, to be exact. Although it was temporarily denounced by the Church as syncretic, I think it's beautifully fitting that the celebration of the Messiah's historical birth has been joined with this solar phenomenon. (The solstice, though actually occurring any time between December 20-23, was marked by December 25 on the old Julian calendar.) Though this is the longest night, from tomorrow onward the daylight hours will know only increase.

Christ comes to us in like fashion. From his coming onward, the night of sin, death, and the world's evils has no choice but to flee before his dawn of his coming. "The darkness is passing away and the true light is already shining" (1 John 2:8). Hence he is worshiped as the Dayspring. Jesus is born quietly into the darkness of night and the tyranny of oppression--Mary and Joseph were in Bethlehem because they lived in forced submission to the authority of Rome--but with him comes the light of forgiveness, freedom, peace, victory, and the knowledge of God. We know not all of it yet; but we have seen the rays of light peeking over the horizon, and we live in hope that the full light of day is merely a matter of patient waiting. "He who testifies to these things says, 'Surely I am coming soon.' Amen. Come, Lord Jesus!" (Revelation 22:20)

Worshiping God in chaos

A few weeks ago at Franklin Street, pastor Joe Brown from WEPC took his turn in the preaching rotation. (Being a newly-planted church of some forty-odd people, we don’t yet have a full-time pastor, but we’re on the search.) The two texts he chose were Revelation 21:1-5 and Psalm 24.

Apparently in the Hebrew frame of mind, there were two enemies to true life: emptiness and chaos. Yet from the beginning of the Scriptures, we see a Jehovah who is actively filling a void and subduing its disorder. “In the beginning . . . the earth was without form [chaotic, disordered, uncontrolled] and void [empty], and darkness was over the face of the deep. [But!] the Spirit of God was hovering over the face of the waters” (Genesis 1:1-3). The universe was an uncontrolled sea, stormy and black, lacking blessing and unfit for man to dwell in. Indeed, the seas have always been the enemy of mankind, a representation of all that we cannot subdue or control, all that threatens to drown us choke the life out of us.*

“The earth is the LORD’s and the fullness thereof . . . for he has founded it upon the sea and established it upon the rivers.”

This phrase “the earth’s fullness” refers to more than just all that’s in the earth; it means that the earth is itself supposed to be “full”—full of God’s goodness, his life, his riches, his abundance. The psalter employs language of fullness, overflow, and abundance to show forth life (e.g., Psalm 65:9-12). Yet our lives often feel empty, lacking in meaning, in hope, in vigor. We run from one pleasure and pursuit to another, yet we feel . . . empty. Where is this plenitude of life?

At the same time, despite our best efforts, our lives are also out of control. We have chaos and disorder. The baby is crying; the casserole burns; your check bounces; you fall (read: step) into the same sins yet again; a loved one dies. When it rains, it pours. “Deep calls to deep at the roar of your waterfalls; all your breakers and your waves have gone over me” (Psalm 42:7). Who will come to still our seas and calm their waves?

“Lift up your heads, O gates!
And be lifted up, O ancient doors,
that the King of glory may come in.
Who is this King of glory?”

The creation account of Genesis 1 may begin with chaos and void. But the story that follows—the story that introduces Yahweh and sets the tone for the rest of history—is, if nothing else, a hopeful story: for three “days” God gives shape and order to the universe, and for three days he works to fill the universe with bodies to give us time, light, and energy, plants for food, animals to help us, and—best of all—woman. (I’m sure some of you might instead be cursing God for that right now!)

The miracle of Christianity is not only that God has made the world, giving it order and fullness, but that he has personally entered it to save it from the death-curse brought on by the devil and by Adam’s sin, in which all humans share. God has come on the scene as the man Jesus of Nazareth, calming raging waters (Mark 4:35-41) and filling up our emptiness with “life to the full” (John 10:10 NIV).

Who is this King of glory? This King of glory is Jesus Christ: God incarnate and saving, “the LORD, strong and mighty, the LORD, mighty in battle” (Psalm 24:8). This Rescuer has come to give us “life to the full,” a life lived in fellowship with our Maker and in his blessing as adopted and beloved children. He has broken the neck of the terrors of the deep and all that threatens our well-being, all that we cannot control and strips us of our life and hope, all that “comes only to kill, steal, and destroy” (John 10:10). He speaks peace into our chaotic lives, a peace he has sealed to us by his sacrificial death. He comes as the One “who fills all in all” and who himself fills us with God’s life and presence (Ephesians 1:23; Colossians 2:9-10). And though only those who have clean hands and a pure heart may ascend to the hill of Zion, enter her gates, and approach God in worship, Christ gives us his very own purity and righteousness to wear as festal garments—“blessing from the LORD and righteousness from the God of [our] salvation” (Psalm 24:5; cf. Isaiah 61:10)—and gives us his Spirit’s power to overcome the sins that we can’t subdue on our own. So we can confidently storm the gates of Zion and stride into the temple, seeking God’s face and fellowship. “They beheld God, and ate and drank” (Exodus 24:11).

__________

* What stands in the way of the fleeing Israelites at their exodus from Egypt? The Red Sea, or whatever the Yam Suph really was. What threatens David and Jonah? Seas (see Psalm 69 and Jonah 2). From where does the evil beast come in Revelation 13? The sea. What does God finally eradicate in the new earth? The sea (Revelation 21:1). The salvation story is not only of making rivers to flow in a death-barren and –dry land; it is the story of wiping out the disorder, evil, and chaos that stand in the way of a life of peace and wholeness.

Bonhoeffer on waiting

Happy New Year!—the church liturgical year, that is. Every year it begins with the season of Advent. It is not yet Christmas (which is celebrated over the twelve days from December 25 until Epiphany on January 6), for advent means “coming.” The Christkindl (Christ child) isn’t here so soon; peace and goodwill haven’t yet been made incarnate. Like those faithful who had to wait for thousands of years for the Messiah to come his first time, Advent is a season to wait upon the promises of God that light our ways in darkness, flickering candles that point the way to the inbreaking of a greater dawn (Luke 1:78-79).

Like last year, I’m reading through a series of Advent and Christmas sermons by Dietrich Bonhoeffer, whose writings I’ve found to be extremely formative in some aspects of my life. Here is what he has to say about waiting in a sermon from December 2, 1928. The sermon is based upon Jesus’ words in Revelation 3:20, “Behold, I stand at the door and knock.”

Celebrating Advent means learning to wait. Waiting is an art which our impatient age has forgotten. We want to pluck the fruit before it has had time to ripen. Greedy eyes are soon disappointed when what they saw as luscious fruit is sour to the taste. In disappointment and disgust they throw it away. The fruit, full of promise, rots on the ground. It is rejected without thanks by disappointed hands.

The blessedness of waiting is lost on those who cannot wait, and the fulfillment of promise is never theirs. They want quick answers to the deepest questions of life and miss the value of those times of anxious waiting, seeking with patient uncertainties until the answers come. They lose the moment when they answers are revealed in dazzling clarity.

Who has not felt the anxieties of waiting for the declaration of friendship or love? The greatest, the deepest, the most tender experiences in all the world demand patient waiting. This waiting is not in emotional turmoil, but gently growing, like the emergence of spring, like God’s laws, like the germinating of a seed.

Not all can wait—certainly not those who are satisfied, contented, and feel that they live in the best of all possible worlds! Those who learn to wait are uneasy about their way of life, but yet have seen a vision of greatness in the world of the future and are patiently expecting its fulfillment. The celebration of Advent is possibly only to those who are troubled in soul, who know themselves to be poor and imperfect, and who can look forward to something greater to come. For these, it is enough to wait in humble fear until the Holy One himself comes down to us, God in the child in the manger. God comes. The Lord Jesus comes. Christmas comes. Christians rejoice!

_____________
*Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s Christmas Sermons, Edwin Robertson, ed., tr., (Grand Rapids, Mich.: Zondervan, 2005), 20.

Where angels fear to tread . . . but for my sake they do

The two remaining people who actually read this blog, you know that I'm not dead. I just haven't had much to write about.

Until now, that is.

I have a girlfriend! Yikes! This is huge news to me; it has been over three years since that last was true. And because this is to me a very big deal with all sorts of ramifications and consequences, to use the words of The Book of Common Prayer, "it should not be entered into unadvisedly or lightly." But nonetheless, I'm excited and hopeful for what may come. (Now, if we can just figure out that whole Richmond-Chicago technicality . . . .)

Olivia and me at Thanksgiving outside Chicago. Come on and feel the Illinoise!

Happy Reformation Day!

In celebration of Reformation Day (October 31, 1517, was when Luther posted his Ninety-Five Theses to the cathedral door in Wittenberg), I thought a few quotes celebrating the greatness of justification by faith alone apart from works would be apropos.

Now when a man has learned through the commandments to recognize his helplessness and is distressed about how he might satisfy the law—since the law must be fulfilled so that not a jot or tittle shall be lost, otherwise man will be condemned without hope—then, being truly humbled and reduced to nothing in his own eyes, he finds in himself nothing whereby he may be justified or saved. Here the second part of Scripture comes to our aid, namely, the promises of God which declare the glory of God, saying, “If you wish to fulfill the law and not covet, as the law commands, come, believe in Christ in whom grace, righteousness, peace, liberty, and all things are promised you. If you believe, you shall have all things; if you do not believe, you shall lack all things.” That which is impossible for you to accomplish by trying to fulfill all the works of the law—many and useless as they all are—you will accomplish quickly and easily through faith.

– Martin Luther, On Christian Liberty

It is clear that the justification which is unto eternal life Paul regards as consisting in our being constituted righteous, in receiving righteousness as a free gift, and this righteousness is none other than the righteousness of the one man Jesus Christ; it is the righteousness of his obedience. . . . Justification is thereby a constitutive act whereby the righteousness of Christ is imputed to our account and we are accordingly accepted as righteous in God’s sight.

– John Murray, Redemption Accomplished and Applied

The specific quality of faith is that it receives and rests upon another, in this case Christ and his righteousness.

– Murray, Ibid.

Nature red in tooth and claw

While running on Saturday morning I came across a squirrel lying on the rain-wet sidewalk a few miles from my apartment. It was on its stomach, with its four legs spread out somewhat on each side. I stopped to look at it. I thought it was already dead, but after a few seconds I saw its head move. The squirrel would intermittently gasp for breath through its red, bloody mouth—it must have fallen from the tall willow oak tree above—and try to muster the strength to crawl back to the tree. It was sometimes able to pick up its head and move a few of its scraggly limbs, but it could never move its emaciated body. I pitied it. I wanted badly to help if off the sidewalk and onto the grass near the tree or just put it out of its misery somehow. (I contemplated stomping on its head.) But I didn’t want to risk rabies, and I thought that my intervention would somehow be messing with the sacred order of nature itself.

Even before the squirrel expired, ants already began crawling upon their next food source. I was so angry at them for molesting this poor creature as it helplessly lied there dying. I found myself praying, asking God to rid it of the ants until it died—Give it is dignity!—and to put its life to a quick end.

How often, in our sanitized world, do we come face-to-face with something in the throes of death? We city dwellers and suburbanites are generations removed from the life of farms, where the seasons of weather and of death were the rule. We herd the elderly into nursing homes and the dying into remote floors of hospitals, trying to maintain a cheery outlook on life. Are we trying to evade death by keeping it out of sight? As I watched the squirrel writhe, its every noble attempt met with futility and grief, it struck me how truly ugly the whole affair was. How hideous is this Conqueror Worm! And if this was but the demise of a wet, scrawny rodent, how much more that of a human! Surely the whole of creation has been groaning in its futility and bondage to decay—the decay brought on by Adam’s sin, the sin that lives inside of me and of which I am both a recipient and active participant.

Oh, how we need the “hope of the glory of God,” the resurrection-hope in which we are saved!

On this mountain [the LORD] will destroy
the shroud that covers all peoples,
the sheet that covers all nations;
he will swallow up death forever. (Isaiah 25:7-8a)

Old October

"All things on earth point home in old October: sailors to sea, travelers to walls and fences, hunters to field and hollow and the long voice of the hounds, the lover to the love he has forsaken." -- Thomas Wolfe, Of Time and the River

On Saturday evening, as I walked around my neighborhood, I was trying to figure out what it was about October that makes me love it so much. Then I remembered this quote. I think it's so true. Something about the cold rain, about the falling leaves, about the brisk air reminds us: We are human. We are limited. Nature is bigger than us, and we can't control her. For all of our springtime curiosity and our summer exploration, we can't face life outdoors for so long. We need autumn to remind us that we're not solitary beings who can do it all and conquer the world. We're pointed back home in "old October."

But it's not that life is over for a season; it changes. The joys of cookouts, sunshine, and morning dew are traded for the welcome warmth of hearth and indoor lighting, of friends gathered close over a mug of warm cider. The point of the day that takes on meaning is when we come home in the evening: from school, from work, the coming together of people that happens in the winter as we leave the cold darkness and enter into the inner-room light.

Halloween: Lighthearted fun, or pagan sorcery?

I have lately been reading through the books of 1 and 2 Samuel, bringing me across that ever-bizarre story of Saul and the spirit medium at Endor (1 Sam. 28). The Lord has by now rejected Saul as king and no longer answers his prayers and efforts to seek his God’s guidance. In an attempt to discover the outcome of an upcoming engagement with the Philistine army, Saul seeks out a witch to contact the spirit of the deceased prophet Samuel. By her means of divination, Samuel’s spirit is seen rising, who delivers a message of imminent doom for Saul and his lineage.

This eerie story is no joke. It’s part of the scriptural witness to the events of Israel’s actual history. And this scares me, because it gives us that portal into the reality of a world of spirits and forces far beyond what we normally see. The New Testament is riddled with the activity and defeat of angels of darkness, the “rulers,” “authorities,” “powers of this dark world,” and “spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms” (cf. Eph. 6:12).

As a child, I loved Halloween. Not only was it a treat (pun intended) to dress up as Spider-man or a shark (with about twelve layers of sweaters underneath to battle the windy, 40-degree Michigan weather, of course) and collect a year’s worth of candy, but I enjoyed the mild spookiness of it all. When I was about six years old, my dear mom read to me an issue of Cricket magazine about folklore of the British Isles, including witches, banshees, druids, Jack-of-the-Lantern, and the like. I was fascinated. So the thought of going out for a night to walk in the darkness, with the wind howling and silhouettes of leaf-bare trees lurked around us—we did our trick-or-treating in a pretty open rural neighborhood—enthralled me. Even years after I stopped donning the concealing garb and running around with a pumpkin-like candy bucket from McDonalds, I still had a thing for tales with dark eeriness, such as Nathaniel Hawthorne’s Young Goodman Brown and Ethan Brand.

Those same NT epistles that reveal the darkness of “this present evil age” (Gal. 1:4) reveal that we are “sons of light” and “sons of the day” (cf. Eph. 5:8-21; 1 Thess. 5:5-11; 1 John 1-2). We are freed in the risen Messiah into a newness of life and the hope of a world in which no moral evil shall dwell. This gospel, allegedly brought by St. Patrick, transformed the British Isles. What was once a land of druidic nature-worship and fellowship with the spirits of the natural realm, with its practices of bone-fires (marking whether one would live or die in the upcoming year), sun-worship, and sacrificial rites done in fear of the powers, became a place where evil retreated in the advance of the Kingdom of God. “The darkness is passing and the true light is already shining” (1 John 2:8).

November 1 is All Saints’ (Hallows’) Day, a time the church has traditionally set aside to rejoice in the lives of Christians who have died and entered the eternal light of heaven. Yet “All Hallows’ Evening” is anything but a night to honor the deceased faithful in Christ, the “communion of the saints” we confess in the Apostles’ Creed. It’s a night to dabble in the occult, to wet our toes in darkness.

But what does this mean for our present, Hallmark-ized version of Halloween? Surely Protestants can have an alternative celebration of Reformation Day. (October 31, 1517, is when Martin Luther posted his 95 Theses to the cathedral door in Wittenberg, Germany.) But what do I make of this holiday I have normally enjoyed so much? It seems to me that the Scriptures are mixed in these regards, often leaving it as some sort of “gray area.” First Corinthians 8-9 appear to make it okay to eat food sacrificed to idols, so long as you have the strength of conscience to know that no such idols or other gods actually exist. Yet a strong warning is given in chapter 10 to those who sought to dabble with paganism out of their superior “knowledge.” Some Israelites knew they served the true and living God, yet they mixed it up with the other deities, thinking they wouldn’t get burned. The result? God cast their dead bodies across the wasteland to be eaten by jackals.

I’ve seen first-hand the occult wickedness of Wicca practices and Walpurgisnacht celebrations in Germany. It’s creepy. And my mother and I swear we’ve felt another, cold presence of some kind in our old house on more than one occasion. Satan is not one to be toyed with. Just like with the witch of Endor, dark beings that operate against God’s good rule are truly present.

So at least for this year, I can’t participate in Halloween without some reservations. I’m not sure what I’m going to do, especially in a neighborhood that gets totally decked out for this un-holiday. But one thing I can be sure of: I can praise Jesus, who drives out demons by the finger of God and has broken the powers of Satan and his minions (Luke 11:14-23; John 12:31; Col. 2:15; Heb. 2:14; Rev. 20:1-3).

Bonhoeffer reprise?

Robert Mugabe has got to go. The dictatorial leader of Zimbabwe has not only corrupted the country, bankrupt his people, and caused 90% unemployment and 14,000% inflation; he is now disbanding churches, banning church leaders, and slandering clerics. This guy is insane, and he has got to go. He is doing nothing but harming his entire country's welfare, while lining his pockets and defending his ego. (Hollywood even made a movie indirectly about Mugabe--The Interpreter--which he banned in Zimbabwe.) It's like the Third Reich all over again. The only thing he isn't doing is out-and-out committing some sort of genocide or ethnic cleansing--but who's to say that won't come soon?

We who are baptized and call ourselves Christians are citizens of two kingdoms: the kingdom of heaven and the kingdom of the world. We are called out by God to live holy lives of faith in and service to his anointed king, Jesus, while simultaneously living in the world with our neighbors and as citizens of the USA or Germany or Brazil . . . or Zimbabwe. As such, out of love for our neighbor, we must put their good ahead of our own and do what is best for the people of our nation whom we are called to love.

In the desperate times of Adolf Hitler's National Socialist regime, the Bekennende Kirche (Confessing Church) saw its dire position and the difficulties of being stretched between two kingdoms. A group of these men saw it as their duty to rid the world of Hitler out of love for other people and for the common good. One of these men was pastor Dietrich Bonhoeffer, who was eventually imprisoned and hung for his complicity in a plot to kill Hitler. Many Christians have balked at his actions, citing quickly "Thou shalt not kill!"

Could Bonhoeffer and his fellows have been right? Bringing down a wicked despot would never rid the world of sin and evil; a new one will soon rise up from elsewhere. Such is the nature of this "present evil age" (Galatians 1:4). But would the loving thing to do for the sake of others actually be to rid the world of such a corrupt tyrant and inept leader? Is Zimbabwe at a time where they need another Bonhoeffer? Certainly they need to be ever more so the Confessing Church, standing upon the rock of Christ's lordship and wielding love, mercy, and forgiveness against the evil that seems to reign (Matthew 16:13-20). But can we call it love to just "turn the other cheek" and allow Mugabe to carry out his devices? I'm torn and cannot say.

Please pray for the saints in Zimbabwe.

As the mountains surround Jerusalem

This past Saturday was quite an adventure. I had originally planned on going with a cool coworker of mine (and fellow Michigander), Shawn, to the National Folk Festival here in Richmond. But instead I took up an offer to go hiking at White Oak Canyon in the Shenandoah National Park in the Blue Ridge Mountains.

After we all met up, we finally set out for the supposed six-mile hike at 3:30 P.M., giving us plenty of time to finish the Class 4 trail before 7:00 sunset. However, at about 6:00 we realized that we had missed a turnoff we were supposed to have taken--and thereby lengthened out trek to some twelve miles! Knowing that there was absolutely no way to make it back before dark, we stopped to watch the sunset over Hawksbill Mountain, the highest point in the SNP. As I looked over the rolling, timeworn mountains I recalled God's promised protection as potential danger and uncertainty loomed for us: "As the moutains surround Jerusalem, so the LORD surrounds his people, from this time forth and forevermore" (Psalm 125:2).

I love the fall!

We made it through the rest of the night, hiking mostly downhill for the next few hours. The steep, rocky, sidehill path was difficult to navigate in the dark with only a handful of flashlights and headlamps. But at 9:40, some three hours after sunset, we arrived safe and sound back at the trailhead.

My friend Josh, with Hawksbill Moutain over my right shoulder

The nature of faith

In his book Redemption Accomplished and Applied John Murray writes about the nature of faith as knowledge, as conviction, and as trust. I find what he says about faith as personal trust to be pretty sweet stuff:

Faith is knowledge passing into conviction, and it is conviction passing into confidence. Faith cannot stop short of self-commitment to Christ, a transference of reliance upon ourselves and all human resources to reliance upon Christ alone for salvation. It is a receiving and resting upon him. It is here that the most characteristic act of faith appears; it is engagement of person to person, the engagement of the sinner as lost to the person of the Saviour able and willing to save. Faith, after all, is not belief of propositions of truth respecting the Saviour, however essential an ingredient of faith such belief is. Faith is trust in a person, the person of Christ, the Son of God and Saviour of the lost. It is entrustment of ourselves to him. It is not simply believing him; it is believing in him and on him. (pp. 111-2)

Murray then goes on to emphasize that faith does not save, but we are saved by Jesus Christ, who is the Savior, by means of our faith. Our faith is a receptive vehicle, the open hand (as Luther calls it) that receives the work of Christ for us:

It is to be remembered that the efficacy of faith does not reside in itself. Faith is not something that merits the favour of God. All the efficacy unto salvation resides in the Saviour. . . . [S]trictly speaking, it is not even faith in Christ that saves but Christ that saves through faith. Faith unites us to Christ in the bonds of abiding attachment and entrustment and it is this union which insures that the saving power, grace, and virtue of the Saviour become operative in the believer. The specific character of faith is that it looks away from itself and finds its whole interest and object in Christ. He is the absorbing preoccupation of faith. (p. 112)

Triune intercession

It never fails. Whether I pray or read my Bible in the evening, I almost invariably fall asleep in fatigue. The same happens in the morning before I get leave for school. In these stressful, needy times--and when isn't it the "time of need" (Hebrews 4:15)?--I feel like I need to pray even more than usual. I need God to guide me, support me, strengthen me every day, all day. Yet I can scarcely do so in prayer. Whenever I quiet down that much, I just fall asleep or I can't focus.

But in his goodness the Holy Spirit recently brought to my mind a vital and wondrous truth: the fullness of the triune Godhead is praying for me. In Romans 8 it says that in my times of weakness, exasperation, even coma, "the Spirit helps us in our weakness. For we do not know what to pray for as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words" (v. 26). How can the Spirit's prayers for those whom he breathes life ever fail? "And he who searches hearts knows what is the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God [the Father]" (v. 27). Not only does the Spirit himself pray to the Father, but the Father has gladly revealed his will to the Spirit, giving him what to pray for each of his adopted children!

What is more, the Anointed Son himself, approved and vindicated by God in his everlasting reign at the Father's right hand, also prays for us without end. "Christ Jesus is the one who died--more than that, who was raised--who is at the right hand of God, who indeed is interceding for us. Who shall separate us from the love of Christ?" (vv.34-35a).

In a miracle of mercy, the whole Trinity is involved in unceasing prayer for me, upholding me. There is no worry, confusion, or disagreement among the three Persons. The Father has revealed his will, which is prayed by the Spirit and which was and is accomplished in the Son, who ever lives as our Advocate (parakletos, 1 John 2:1-2; used in John 14, 16 of the Spirit). I need not worry that I fall asleep in prayer; God himself prays for me!

You have been my help,
and in the shadow of your wings I will sing for joy.
My soul clings to you;
your right hand upholds me.
(Psalm 63:7-8)