Advent: King Messiah

In the progressive revelation of God’s promised redemption, the figure of the redeemer becomes clearer. The Messiah, or Anointed One, will be one who will reign as king. It was prophesied by Jacob and realized in David, Israel’s archetypal king. But the task of restoring humanity to a state of peace and abundance in fellowship with God is more than any earthly king could accomplish. This deficiency was something that David appears to have grasped, for in Psalm 110 he pays homage to one he calls “my Lord,” whom Yahweh exalts to his right hand: “The Lord says to my Lord/“Sit at my right hand,/until I make your enemies your footstool.” Remarkably, this figure was one to whom even the God-appointed king of Israel must pay obeisance.

The identity of this figure was claimed by Jesus himself (Matthew 22:41-45), and proclaimed with apostolic authority (e.g., Acts 2:34-36). He was the promised Son of David who fulfilled the covenant given to the shepherd turned king. He ushered in the kingdom that has as its hallmarks, equity, justice, righteousness, and peace. The works that he did testified to his true identity; and though he was “killed by the hands of lawless men,” God demonstrated through his resurrection, ascension, and subsequent outpouring of the Holy Spirit, that he was, that he is, “both Lord and Christ.”

Advent is a time of waiting in anticipation. For those alive at the time of Jesus’ birth, it had been a millennium since David wrote his prophetic lyrics. But those who waited in faith saw their faith rewarded. Our advent season is even longer than theirs. Yet our reason to hope is greater than theirs. Not only do we have the record of Jesus’ ministry on earth that testifies to his Messianic anointing, we have the vision of the one who possesses “the keys of Death and Hades,” the “Lion of the tribe of Judah, the Root of David, [who] has conquered,” of whom voices in Heaven proclaim, “The kingdom of the world has become the kingdom of our Lord and of his Christ, and he shall reign forever and ever,” and who himself testifies that, “I am coming soon, bringing my recompense with me, to repay everyone for what he has done. I am the Alpha and the Omega, the first and the last, the beginning and the end” (Revelation 1:18; 5:5; 11:15; 22:12). Armed with this vision may we be reminded, in the words of the hymn, that,
“This is my Father’s world. O let me ne’er forget
That though the wrong seems oft so strong,
God is the ruler yet.
This is my Father’s world; the battle is not done;
Jesus who died shall be satisfied
And earth and heav’n be one.”

Advent: Holding Fast

Abraham had been waiting a long time. God promised him a heritage that would bless “all the families of the earth,” but fulfillment of the promise had not been realized. What at first seemed like an extraordinary gift had become a source of frustration and disappointment. In the face of the delay, Abraham’s faith had faltered more than once and he made decisions that had unwelcome consequences. Finally, a propitious wind blew and fanned the flames of his faith and he was transformed. The promise settled into his soul and he was able to heed and trust the word of God, even a command that seemingly negated everything God had previously spoken.

Abraham’s Advent experience is instructive. He had his own period of waiting that placed huge demands on his ability to hold fast to the word that God had spoken. And though he is remembered for his willingness to raise his knife over the promised heir to slay him, convinced that God had the power to raise him from the dead, such bold believing was not always his. He lost confidence and settled for shortcuts and man-made solutions. 

His wait, however, turned out to be a mere 24 years. How long has it been since the church received the promise that Jesus would return to judge the world and gather to himself his own? Nearly 2000 years. 2000 years is a long time. Long enough to cause a soul to doubt that he's ever going to return. Long enough to drift from the teaching that promised reward on that day for the faithful, the “one who overcomes.” Long enough to convince a disciple that deferred gratification is not as sensible as immediate gratification.

This Advent, let’s ask God for the grace to hold fast to our confession of faith without wavering, believing that the one who came and gained the victory over the deceiver and the evil he unleashed is coming again to bring full restoration to all that he has made.

Advent: Regaining the Future

“She took of its fruit and ate, and she also gave some to her husband who was with her, and he ate . . .” A fateful moment, a terrifying moment. They had been warned of the consequences, but something, someone, had convinced them that things would actually be better this way. The effects were immediate and devastating. In a flash, all was lost. Cast out, the bounty and beauty of Eden was irreclaimable. Angels and flaming swords barred re-entrance and whatever future would have been theirs in that magnificent place was now destroyed.

Such a radical reordering brought on by their own foolishness could have caused a soul destroying hopelessness to overtake our first parents were it not for the promise that had been uttered in the garden. God had decreed that one born of the seed of the woman would triumph over Satan and the evil he had unleashed. This seed of hope took root in their souls and sustained the offspring of the woman from that moment forward. For generations they had looked for it to bear fruit.

This looking forward with hope-filled expectation in God’s promise is what the Advent season marks. It is the restoration of the future in the face of human failing. It is the belief that God is true to his word, not just in justice but also in mercy. It is a time, therefore, when we can seek God for his grace to attend our future shattering impulses. 

It can only take a moment. A rash decision, a destructive action taken, and the expected future vanishes. Though it was only a dream to begin with, it had the substance of hope to sustain it. Now with the future gone, a hopelessness begins to seep into the soul with corrosive effect. There appears no way out of the consequences of the error. The life that might have been will never be, and justification for pressing on is hard to obtain. Have you experienced this? I pray you haven’t. But if you have, I pray you have discovered the redemptive and restorative work of the one who came to us in Bethlehem. I pray this season of Advent will bring Jesus into your life and with him the future and hope.

The Miracle of the New Birth

As stated in a previous post, miracles serve (at the very least) two ends: they radically alter the circumstances of those involved, as well as demonstrating that there exists a reality that stands above, or outside, our everyday, natural existence.  Ultimately, it’s the super-reality that miracles point to that is more important for a human being to experience. Recovery of physical sight will not truly profit unless the one healed is able to see the kingdom of God. As we discussed, however, seeing the kingdom of God requires a miracle. Jesus describes it as being born again, or born from above.

Drawing on the apostle Paul’s teaching from Ephesians 2 let’s examine why the new birth is a miracle. First, our condition is helpless. Human beings are “dead in trespasses and sins” and “by nature children of wrath.” We are fatally deaf, dumb, and blind to heavenly realities. Our only hope is a miracle, a divine intervention that opens our understanding. And this is what God does. When we are “dead in [our] trespasses and sins,” he makes us “alive together with Christ.” This regeneration allows us to see and believe. To underscore the miraculous nature of this transformation, we learn that the ability to place faith in Jesus is a “gift of God” that comes to us by “grace.” And true to miracles, our circumstances are radically altered. No longer subjects of “the prince of the power of the air,” we learn that we have been “raised us up with [Christ]” to be “seated with him in the heavenly places.”

By all criteria, the new birth is a miracle. It is God, in love, intervening into our fallen, lost existence to awaken us to our need of his precious gift, the One he gave so that “whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life.”  May God give all who read this eyes to see.

Why Miracles?

Have you been present when a miracle occurred? By miracle I don’t mean witnessing the birth of a baby or marking the progress of a beautiful, flowering plant growing from a small, unremarkable seed. These are, in their own ways, “miraculous,” and I’ve had the privilege of experiencing both. No, I mean a miracle of biblical proportions: blind eyes given sight, deaf ears unstopped, withered limbs fully restored, phenomena that have no scientific explanation. I’ve been in large meetings where such things were claimed to have taken place, but the proceedings had such a feeling of charlatanry that it proved unconvincing. They were certainly nothing like what we read about in Scripture, the results of which were immediate and verifiable for all to see.

Biblically, miracles serve two ends: they radically alter the circumstances of those involved, as well as demonstrating that there exists a reality that stands above everyday existence. In the end, the latter realization proves to be more imperative than being able to see, hear, or walk. Even Lazarus being raised from the dead (see John 11) pales in comparison to his having been raised from spiritual death to eternal life through faith in Christ. His coming out from the tomb still clothed in the garments of the grave testifies to this truth.

When God intervenes in the normal processes of nature to do something supernatural, we must receive it as an act of kindness. He is redirecting our gaze from one reality to another, telling us to look up, above the horizon of our lives, and confess that HE IS. While not ruling out the possibility of the sorts of miracles outlined above, God’s miracle of regeneration is to be acknowledged as no less redirective. A person coming to believe in Christ is a divine intervention of the kindest kind and reassures us that he is at work securing for himself a people that above all else confess him as Lord though they be deaf, dumb, blind, or lame.

Rational Miracles

Miracles, by definition, are phenomena, welcome phenomena, which stand outside the bounds of what is expected, normal, or natural. They don’t have a scientific explanation and so are attributed to divine intervention. For the materialist, therefore, a miracle is an impossibility, and to believe that they occur is irrational. No matter how extraordinary a phenomenon, it must have a rational, scientific explanation.

Given their presuppositions, I don’t know how materialists would have explained the healing of the man who sat day by day at the Beautiful Gate (Acts 3). Everyone familiar with the Beautiful Gate knew him to be one who had been lame from birth, who was brought to the location so that he could beg for alms. When it came to pass, therefore, that he was suddenly able to stand and leap about they couldn’t deny that it was he or that he was now completely healed. But what brought this about? Why was he suddenly able to walk? The explanation given by Peter wouldn’t have satisfied the materialist. It wasn’t scientific. It wasn’t rational.

Well, actually, that’s not completely true. The healing might not have been scientific, but it was totally rational, for it was done in the name of Jesus.

Prompted by the healing, Peter offers the incredulous onlookers a string of titles and adjectives for Jesus, when put together, provide a perfectly rational explanation as to why the man was healed “by faith in his name.” Jesus, the one those listening had “delivered over and denied in the presence of Pilate,” was the “Holy and Righteous One” who had been glorified (ascended and now seated at the right hand of God, as attested to by the outpouring of he Holy Spirit) by the “God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob, the God of our fathers,” who was raised from the dead and shown to be the “Author of life.” He was the “servant” of God, the “Christ” who “suffered” as “foretold by the mouth of all the prophets,” who himself was the one of whom “Moses said, ‘The Lord God will raise up for you a prophet like me from your brothers.’” He was the object of “all the prophets [had] spoken” about the age to come in which the covenant that God made with Abraham that “’in your offspring shall all the families of the earth be blessed,’” would be realized. Given the reality of who Jesus is, it makes perfect sense that Peter and John, ministering in the power of Jesus could heal the man in the name of Jesus.

The hope is that the materialist (or anyone else for that matter) would reason backwards from the miracle and come to the conclusion that “there is salvation in no one else, for there is no other name under heaven given among men by which we must be saved” (Acts 4:12). For some who listened to Peter that was the case. And for those in any age who hear the testimony for themselves, and are willing to weigh the evidence, a perfectly rational response will be to repent and believe.

Funding the Program

"As soon as the coin in the coffer rings, a soul from purgatory springs." This infamous sales pitch, attributed to John Tetzel, a Dominican priest from the time of Martin Luther (c. 1517), represents one of the more egregious examples of the church's uneasy relationship with money. It seems Tetzel was involved in the medieval version of a "capital campaign." By selling the faithful relief from purgatorial suffering for a few coins, he was helping fund the building of the new basilica in Rome. Sounds not unlike today's "prosperity" preachers who promise unbounded relief from temporal suffering if the listener would only help bankroll the preacher's ever-expanding fiefdom.

The fundamental problem with all such efforts is that it misrepresents the economy of the Kingdom. The church has nothing to sell. All the riches it possesses have been given to it by a gracious God, and it is to give them away freely to any who would have them (cf. Matthew 10:8). And this it does through the proclamation of the gospel, not the peddling of promises. Such hucksterism was condemned long ago when Peter told Simon the magician to "Repent . . . and pray to the Lord that, if possible, the intent of your heart may be forgiven you" (Acts 8:22).

So how is the church to materially prosper? It does so through the liberality of its people. The expectation is that as we have freely received we would freely give. God grants us our material wealth so that we might steward it in a manner that allows us to be sustained as well as the work of the Kingdom (cf. 2 Corinthians 8:1-9).

That being said, getting the faithful to yield up some of its capital can be a hard sell! The demand that our material existence makes upon our wallets, especially in a place like New York City, makes us wary. Paying our bills and putting something away for the future is challenging enough without adding yet another obligation. Nevertheless, that's how it's supposed to work. We have received (and continue to receive) of God's generosity, and we, in turn, are to be generous toward the work he is doing in the world, trusting that he "will supply every need of [ours] according to his riches in glory in Christ Jesus" (Philippians 4:19). Such liberality might not get you a new Rolls but it will redound to your credit as one who presents "a fragrant offering, a sacrifice acceptable and pleasing to God" (Philippians 4:18).

Practicing Contentment

The Stoics, adherents to an ancient school of Greek philosophy, sought not to be ruled by their emotions. Logic and reason were prized as tools to gain control over circumstances that might lead to anguish of soul. The goal for the stoic was total self-sufficiency as regards the state of his soul, his state of mind not dependent upon external circumstances. Dr. Spock of Star Trek fame might come to mind, as he was “stoic” to the max. Nothing fazed him (technically, he was not really a stoic for he was bereft of emotions, not one seeking to gain control of them, but you get the idea).

The apostle Paul offers a testimony that might sound stoical: “I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content” (Philippians 4:11). Respected New Testament scholar F.F. Bruce acknowledges that Paul utilizes a Greek term current in stoic philosophy “to denote the ideal of the totally self-sufficient person,” and he “uses it to express his independence of external circumstances.” But far from self-sufficient independence, Paul was “constantly conscious of his total dependence on God.” Bruce states that Paul was not so much “self-sufficient as ‘God-sufficient.’” This was the “secret” that he had learned that allowed him to face “plenty and hunger, abundance and need” with contentment.

What Paul confessed was that his life had been taken over by a gracious, loving, merciful, and all-wise God. This meant that in whatever circumstance he found himself it was not unknown to God. In truth, he lived with a confidence that “for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose” (Romans 8:28). The challenge, therefore, was to respond to each circumstance, whether it was one in which he “abounded” or one in which he was “brought low,” (both present unique challenges to the one who would live a God-honoring life) with an equanimity of soul that reflected the promise of Jesus that his “grace [would be] sufficient” for him (Cf. 2 Corinthians 12:9).

Paul’s capacity for contentment was grounded in the promises given to him and bolstered by his experience of Christ keeping his promises. The assurances offered to the apostle, however, are not unique to him. The only component for contentment that might be lacking in us is our hesitancy to prove Christ true to his word. Can we pursue contentment -- a God-sufficient independence of circumstances -- trusting that the one who has called us to himself will “never leave us nor forsake us,” and that his grace will prove ample enough for the particular challenge? It’s a goal worth pursuing.

Agents of Flourishing

Human beings have been given a job to do. God delineates it as follows: “Be fruitful and multiply and fill the earth and subdue it and have dominion over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the heavens and over every living thing that moves on the earth” (Genesis 1:28). Theologians call this “the cultural mandate,” for it anticipates the ways in which humanity, endowed with the ability to carry out their task, will unleash the capacities of creation. They will build, organize, purpose and repurpose these capacities and what will result is what we call culture, “the arts and other manifestations of human intellectual achievement regarded collectively” (New Oxford American Dictionary). It is our pursuit of culture making that marks us out as human, those made “in the image of God.”

But the commission is not a license to do with what one has at one’s disposal however one wishes. Just after the mandate is given there follows language that indicates God’s intention that the human maintain his creation as a place where life can flourish. This notion is supported by the description of Adam being placed in the Garden to “work it and keep it” (Cf. Genesis 2:15). That being said, history is replete with evidences of the abuse of our God-given abilities to harness creation’s potential demonstrating our post-fall inborn tendency to be more inhumane than humane.

In Christ, however, the potential to do what God intended is restored. Our selfish heart can be reformed into a servant’s heart allowing us to more readily create culture in redemptive ways. We can be agents of flourishing that benefits us, the other, and brings glory to God.

This has far-reaching consequences. Picture yourself sitting in the boardroom of some large multi-national corporation that is weighing the possibility of increasing its bottom line by exploiting the desperate need for employment in an “undeveloped” nation. Given the depressed nature of the country’s economy, the corporation can get away with offering less than they ought in wages while putting the work force at risk by not maintaining safe conditions. If you were the Christian on the board you’d need to speak up. That’s what the cultural mandate demands of us.

As this is “easier said than done,” our capacity to respond with courage in such ethically charged situations needs to be fed. This is why Paul instructs as he does when he says “whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things” (Philippians 4:8). Having our own lives shaped by that which promotes flourishing will position us to humanely work and keep the garden, blessing us and those around us, while bringing glory to God. 

What, Me Worry?

“What, me worry?” Alfred E. Neuman, Mad Magazine

Alfred E. Neuman, the jug eared, tousle-headed, gap-toothed grinning icon that has graced the cover of Mad Magazine for decades, appears perpetually unperturbed by whatever is going on around him. His is an absurdly anxiety free existence. No matter what transpires, “What, me worry?”

Ah, if it were only so easy. In truth, only a fictitious character is capable of uttering such a statement. Real life is fraught with too many opportunities to fret. Whether close at hand or coming to us from thousands of miles away through various forms of media, an uncertain and threatening future looms, troubling our souls.

There’s no denying the many sources of uncertainty, but is there an alternative to worry? The Scriptures clearly teach that there is. Jesus acknowledges the reasons for why we might be troubled, but he urges us to look above the temporal circumstance to the One who dwells in eternity. This is not some “pie-in-the-sky-by-and-by” pitch on his part. On the contrary, he is asserting that we can have a bold assurance that our “heavenly Father,” the one who “clothes the grass of the field” in raiment more wonderful than anything Solomon wore, and feeds the birds of the air who “neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns,” will take care of us, for we are “of more value” than the other beloved objects of his creation. (Cf. Matthew 6:25-34)

The apostle Paul similarly encourages confidence in the face of circumstances that give rise to worry. As Jesus assured that he would never leave or forsake us, and he fulfilled his promise by sending the Holy Spirit to communicate his love and care for us, the apostle, knowing that “the Lord is at hand,” instructs us to “not be anxious about anything.” Rather than worry, he teaches that we should pray: “in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God.” What will result from this, he assures, is our worry being replaced with “the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding” that “will guard [our] hearts and [our] minds in Christ Jesus” (Philippians 4:5-7).

On this side of life, I don’t think we’ll ever get to the place of blissful, unperturbed equanimity suggested by Mad Magazine’s front man. But we can pursue the promised peace that God offers by turning to him in prayer, “casting all [our] anxieties on him because he cares for [us]” (Cf. 1 Peter 5:7).

Productive Belonging

It must have been an awkward moment. The church had received a letter from Paul and had gathered to hear it read. They felt a close kinship with the apostle and were anxious to know how he was doing. They were already excited and glad to have their friend Epaphroditus back. Word had gotten to them that he had been gravely ill, almost to the point of death, so to have him back in their midst was both a relief and a joy. But what of Paul? What news, words of encouragement or instruction might he have included in the letter that Epaphorditus had brought with him? All were summoned, and up to this point they had been both encouraged and warned by his letter, all to their edification. But now a deafening silence has descended upon them. Two much respected women of their number, Euodia and Syntheche, had been singled out by Paul and not for praise. He had entreated them to reconcile, to “agree in the Lord,” and asked another in their church community to help them. How would these two respond?

Such opportunities are part of what is called sanctification, the process of transformation that God has entered us into, changing us from what were without Christ to what we are in Christ. Such occasions are given by God to test our faith, expose remaining sin, or learn what it means to love him and others with all of our being. The above incident, suggested by Paul’s letter to the church in Philippi, illuminates the important role the church community plays in our sanctification. He knew the church and he knew the people involved. He was also well aware of the problems that could arise within a church when two respected members of its congregation were at odds with each other. So, he spoke up. And given the manner in which he did this, he placed the obligation for helping these two to reconcile upon everyone in the church.

God intends for us to work at the new self that we are in Christ and he has designed that this be done in community. The importance of being part of a particular church cannot, therefore, be overemphasized. It’s in community with other Christians where we learn to walk in the humility, unity, and love that God expects his gospel-birthed children to pursue. I’d like to think that the two women in Philippi seized the opportunity. I’d like to think the entire community was edified by their example. If they did, together they would have experienced the answer to Paul’s petition when he prayed that their love would “abound more and more, with knowledge and all discernment, so that you may approve what is excellent, and so be pure and blameless for the day of Christ, filled with the fruit of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ, to the glory and praise of God” (Philippians 1:9-11).

Keeping Perspective

“For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ” (Philippians 3:8). Really? To know Christ, to follow him, does it really require that everything else in life be counted as worthless? It might seem that way if we isolate this declaration, not letting it speak within its context. It’s not the apostle’s intent to declare all human accomplishments to be no more than animal excrement (the more graphic meaning of the word translated ‘rubbish’). It’s only when such accomplishments are put forward as justification before God that he considered them as such. We are justified by “the righteousness from God that depends on faith” (v. 9). As such, Paul would not cling to any credentials that created a false sense of worthiness, despite the fact that he could claim some serious credentials (v. 4-6).

No, Paul’s intent was not to denigrate human achievement or deny the validity of hard work. His was a preemptive strike against a false gospel that he knew to be circulating among the churches; a gospel that said one must do something in order to be in right standing with God when the true gospel proclaims that it is all of grace and right standing is possessed by faith alone. That being said, his declaration does offer a helpful perspective as regards human achievement.

Human beings are capable of remarkable things. Made in the image of God and empowered to manage the affairs of his creation, men and women have harnessed the innate resources of the earth and put them to use. The results have been mixed, to be sure, as all of our efforts are tinged with the corruption of sin, but there is no denying that we are capable of extraordinary achievement. Think of it -- we put a man on the moon!

We need to put that accomplishment in perspective, however. When Neil Armstrong uttered his famous prophecy after putting the first human foot on the surface of the moon, it signaled the culmination of nearly a decade of human experimentation, innovation, funding and flying, a harnessing of resources with few precedents in the history of mankind. But if we measure the distance he traveled by the scale that distances in space are commonly measured, light years (the distance light travels in a year moving at 186,000 miles/second, the speed of light), he traveled about one second! All that effort for one second’s worth of space distance!!

There’s fruit to be gleaned from this. While we want to have dreams and work hard to achieve them, the gospel opens the vast reaches of eternity and puts our striving in proper perspective. Knowing Christ tells us that we must never forsake eternal reward for temporal gain for there isn’t any earthly achievement that rivals gaining Christ, not even stepping on to the moon.

The Absurdity of the Gospel

Naaman was a powerful man. His king held him in high regard for he had won wars for Syria (see 2 Kings 5). But Naaman was also a sick man. He was a leper and nothing he tried had cured him. As the story unfolds, however, we learn that Naaman’s disease was not his real problem. When a new solution, one that would actually cure him, was offered, he responded according to a set of presuppositions that deafened him to the saving word of God. Tellingly, everything about the prophet Elisha’s plan seemed absurd to the powerful Naaman.

Such is always the case when the word of God comes. The message sounds ridiculous and we respond not with gratitude, but with offense. This is because the word of God is “of a different order,” to use Jacques Ellul’s language. The Greek philosophers in Athens mocked Paul’s preaching as nonsense, while his Jewish hearers thought it blasphemous. Why? As the apostle Paul teaches, the “foolishness” of God is wiser than human wisdom, and we cannot comprehend that the word of God could be true.

This is not just a problem for unregenerate Jews and Greeks (or Syrians, for that matter). We Christians have a problem in accepting the good news as it has been proclaimed. Paul had experienced this first hand when he witnessed the influence of the “judaizers.” These were people within the pale of Christianity who could not really grasp the gospel in all its richness. The redemptive covenant that God had cut in Christ was for those who came into it by faith, whether Jew or Gentile. But for the judaizers, Gentiles had to first become Jews, symbolized by being circumcised. Paul condemned such an expectation in the strongest terms (see Philippians 3:2-3; Galatians 1:6-9). For it is by “grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast” (Ephesians 2:8-9).

It’s likely that none of you reading this would assert that one needs to be circumcised to be in good standing with God. However, you might be offering other tokens for God’s approval: your hard work in the church, your eschewing of “worldly” pleasures, your diligent devotional practices. Such pious credentials cannot -- must not -- substitute for standing in the grace of God by faith. If such approval seeking does find its way into your thinking, pray that you have ears to hear and embrace the absurdity of the gospel. It has the power to free you from every attempt to improve on the plan that God has revealed in his gracious word.

The Power of Example

Who are your heroes? Who do you want to be like? Who presents an example that you want to follow? Perhaps you haven’t thought about it much. You should, for we are built to emulate. As such, we pick stuff up. Consciously or unconsciously, the people that have been part of our lives have influenced how we think and behave. As a result, we are products, at least in part, of the examples that have paraded before our eyes.

The power of example is not to be underestimated. Examples can be innocuous, edifying, or destructive. Modeling your hairstyle after someone else is innocuous. Opening your home because you were treated generously in a time of need is good. Being abusive to your wife as your father was to your mother is destructive. In each case, we are proving that we have been influenced by the example of another.

Christians are called to “shine as lights in the world.” We are obligated, therefore, to seek out good examples. We want to emulate those who themselves have been shaped by the gospel. Timothy and Epaphroditus, whom Paul puts forward as worthy of honor, are such examples. They model the kind of other-oriented selflessness and sacrifice that is the hallmark of Christian maturity. Yet it was the apostle, who himself had learned that he must decrease and Jesus must increase, who had a profound affect upon these two. Paul had modeled what desiring Jesus entailed and Timothy and Epaphroditus wanted what Paul wanted. This resulted in lives given over to the service of Christ and others. They were godly men, worthy of honor and emulation.

We must choose our heroes wisely. Do their lives reflect core gospel components, the other-oriented selflessness and sacrifice that was the arc of Jesus earthly existence, or is it all about them? Anyone we would seek to emulate (including Paul, Timothy and Epaphroditus) other than Christ will in some way or the other fall short. But in Jesus we have the example par excellence. Model those who model him and your light will shine brighter.

Willing Obedience

Obedience is ________ .

How do you fill in the blank? Difficult? Necessary? Detestable? How about enjoyable? Given our innate rebelliousness, ‘joyful’ does not likely spring to mind. We have a hard time with obedience. There’s something deep within us that does not like being told what to do, at least without an avenue of appeal.

On the one hand, the inclination to disobey can be a good thing. It helps people resist the despotic behavior of power hungry men. Shiphrah and Puah, for example, two Hebrew midwives who ignored Pharaoh’s murderous orders are rewarded by God for their disobedience (Exodus 1:15-21). And the underground resistance movements of World War 2 did much to undermine Nazi Germany’s efforts to subjugate the continent. Not obeying can be good when what is being required is immoral.

But our relationship with God’s authority is another matter. He has set the terms of our existence and it is the case that there is no avenue of appeal when it comes to God’s laws. But unlike the self-promoting and self-protecting laws of tyrants, his are given out of love. In fact, his call to obedience is a call to joy. He knows what we were made for and how we can best experience the fullness of our humanity. So, why do human beings have such a problem with yielding to God’s rule? It’s the innate rebelliousness alluded to above. Even when blessing is promised for obedience and punishment for disobedience, we are unwilling to obey.

The situation changes, however, when, by faith, we are brought into union with Christ. Our lack of obedience has been filled up with Christ’s obedience and we possess a new relationship with God. Now, the fruit of salvation is ours for the harvesting. As a bonus, we are not on our own to pursue the expected obedience. We are told that God is at work in us changing our desires to conform to his desires and supplying the power we need to walk in his will. As Paul exhorts his beloved friends in Philippi: “work out your own salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God who works in you, both to will and to work for his good pleasure” (2:12-13). Perhaps this is part of what delights Paul when at the very beginning of his letter he writes,  “I thank my God in all my remembrance of you, always in every prayer of mine for you all making my prayer with joy, because of your partnership in the gospel from the first day until now” (1:3-5). He knows the joy that’s in store for them as they pursue the will of God together. 

Obedience is ________. How do you fill in the blank? By God's grace you can say, 'joyful.'

Standing Firm

I know you’ve experienced it. You’re standing among non-Christians, you may or may not know them, when the topic of Christianity comes up. A disparaging or inaccurate comment is made about Christ or his church and you debate within yourself, “Should I say something? I don’t want to get into an argument. I certainly don’t want things to get ugly. Should I speak up? If I do, what will these people think?” Whether we open our mouths or not, the mere fact that we have an internal debate indicates our awareness that in many circles possessing faith in Christ is not a résumé enhancement.

Feeling marginalized due to our confession of Christ is an increasingly common phenomenon. It’s a form of persecution (albeit a mild one). And the more one gets pushed to the margins, the more one feels that holding fast to that which is prompting the persecution is futile. The pressure to abandon the faith increases. But the abandonment does not take so blunt a form as cursing Christ and being done with it. It’s subtler than that. It’s leaving out the bits that cause problems. It’s majoring on issues that are palatable to the opposing populace. It’s trying really hard to blend in. It’s engaging in unilateral compromise.

The theological drift is always toward liberalism. Feeling its exclusivity and holiness the tendency is to substitute comfort food for the robust fare of the Bible. The result, succinctly described by H. Richard Niebuhr, is a message that challenges and changes no one: “A God without wrath [brings] people without sin into a kingdom without judgment through the ministrations of a Christ without a cross.”

As the pages of Scripture attest, the pressure to yield our confession of faith has always plagued the church. The writer of Hebrews famously instructs his readers to “hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering” (10:23). When Paul writes the believers in Philippi he feels compelled to exhort them to “[stand] firm in one spirit, with one mind” as they strive “side by side for the faith of the gospel . . . not frightened in anything by your opponents” (1:27-28). Recall Peter in the precincts of Pilate pushing aside any notion that he was somehow associated with Jesus; then the rooster crowed prompting bitter tears (Matthew 26:75). I’m not sure what form it will take for us beyond what I’ve pictured above, but we shouldn’t be surprised if we run up against stiff opposition. The challenge will be to stand firm, striving for the faith of the gospel.

What's It Worth?

Christianity is not for the faint of heart. At least that’s the impression I get from reading the epistles or the teachings of Jesus. No matter what portion of the New Testament one reads it isn’t long before the subject of suffering for the cause of Christ becomes part of the discussion. It shouldn’t surprise me, I suppose, given the fact that the one we follow was executed.

Jesus provokes controversy. And it’s not unusual for those who follow him to find themselves in trouble. The litany of Paul’s troubles (see, for example, 2 Corinthians 11:24-27) testifies to the breadth of difficulties that can attend someone who has given his life to Christ. Yet, despite the fact that Paul finds himself in unwanted, even perilous circumstances, he rejoices (see Philippians 1:12). How? Paul’s ability to rejoice while enduring persecution grows from his profound appreciation of the gospel. Like the man who stumbled upon the treasure, or the merchant who came across a pearl of unprecedented beauty, he was willing to give up everything, including his life, in order to possess Christ.  Why is the gospel so precious to him? Because he knew that grace was just that, grace, and it had been extended even to him.

It’s notable how often Paul’s persecution of the church is referred to in his writings. The depth of this sinfulness seems never to have left him, at least on this side of glory. Even in one of his last writings he remarks, “I was a blasphemer, persecutor, and insolent opponent “(1 Timothy 1:13), an echo of a previous statement in which he confesses, “I am the least of the apostles, unworthy to be called an apostle, because I persecuted the church of God” (1 Corinthians 15:9). I think it’s this persistent memory that fuels his cherishing of the gospel. He knew that God had granted him an eternity that he did not deserve and rescued him from one that he did.

I haven’t participated in the arrest and execution of any of Jesus’ disciples, but my mocking and blasphemous tongue made me as worthy of condemnation as Paul. But God in his grace rescued me from myself. I pray I will treasure the gospel with the same warmth as Paul so that I can whole-heartedly serve him, whatever the circumstance, and confess with the apostle, “. . . to live is Christ, and to die is gain.”

A Paradoxical People

A church is a paradox; a paradox made up of paradoxical people. It is an entity that is at once infinitely indestructible and incredibly fragile. It is strong because an infinitely strong God has brought it into being and is at work in it. It is weak because it is made up of people who are subject to the maladies that attend universal sin. Possessing no inherent power to do what God wants us to do, we must look to God’s power and grace.

That being said, the weakness that can often hobble a church is not to be accommodated. Paul’s letters are full of exhortations that, in one way or the other, enjoin us to walk away from the old self and toward the new. The old “belongs to your former manner of life and is corrupt through deceitful desires,” while the new is “created after the likeness of God in true righteousness and holiness” (Ephesians 4:22-23). In the opening sentences of his letter to the Philippians he puts it this way: “it is my prayer that your love may abound more and more, with knowledge and all discernment, so that you may approve what is excellent, and so be pure and blameless for the day of Christ, filled with the fruit of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ, to the glory and praise of God” (Philippians 1:9-11).

As his letters readily attest, the local church is the venue in which much of this growth is to take place. For instance, the above prayer ties the ability to approve what is excellent, which leads to a maturing walk “filled with the fruit of righteousness,” to ever-increasing love among the saints at Philippi. Why is this so? If those in a church can discover what it means to love, idolatrous self-interest will give way to God honoring interest for the other. We then begin to look like Jesus who “made himself nothing, taking the form of a servant” so that we could be saved from our sinful, self-absorbed selves (2:7).

Remarkably, Paul is confident that this will be realized in the church in Philippi because “he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ” (1:6). But it involves embracing the challenge to “work out [our] own salvation with fear and trembling” (2:12). It seems that if we will respond with faith, seeking to “approve what is excellent,” we can become a little less paradoxical, possessing a strength that will be “to the glory and praise of God” (1:11).

The Big Issue

When the followers of Jesus began to speak “as the Spirit gave them utterance” in languages not their own, those who heard them were perplexed. Jesus' disciples were mostly made up of Galileans, a people not known for their erudition. Yet, here they were telling “the mighty works of God” in the tongues of others. A strange occurrence.

The New Testament is full of strange occurrences. People are raised from the dead. Incurable diseases suddenly vanish. Demons manifest. Angels appear. Voices come out from clouds. Who is at the center of all these strange goings on? Jesus, who himself walks on water, causes violent storms to obey his voice, and feeds multitudes with the first century equivalent of a “happy meal.”

All of these phenomena attest to the reality of who Jesus was – God in the flesh. And what was taking place on Pentecost only confirmed this truth. Jesus had promised that he would send the Holy Spirit when he returned to the right hand of his Father. With the Spirit’s arrival, the logical conclusion was that he was where he said he would be. This has ultimate significance.

The founding pastor of Neighborhood Church, Roger Fulton, was fond of saying, “Jesus is the big issue.” What was he implying? Jesus cannot be ignored. The record of his existence is present in the Bible and it calls for a decision. Is he a charlatan, a failed revolutionary, a mystic, or perhaps just an ordinary man upon whom people have projected their own longings? Roger’s assertion is reflected in the response of some of those who witnessed the fruit of the Spirit’s blessing. They wondered, “What does this mean?” The right question! And one that reveals people with humble and teachable hearts. Peter’s answer cut such to the quick: “Let all the house of Israel therefore know for certain that God has made him both Lord and Christ, this Jesus whom you crucified.”

As Roger intimates, this same question needs to be asked by all. Brushing away the biblical testimony with a dismissive equivalent to “they are filled with new wine” is inexcusable – and spiritually fatal. The teachable ones on Pentecost had their eyes opened to the truth of Jesus and their own folly. They pleaded, “Brothers, what shall we do?” Peter’s answer sufficed for them and will suffice for contemporary penitents: “Repent and be baptized every one of you in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of your sins, and you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit.”

He is the big issue. What's your decision?

He Ascended into Heaven

This past Lord’s Day was Ascension Sunday, an aspect of Jesus’ earthly ministry that receives little attention compared to his birth, death, and resurrection. The above title is a phrase from the Apostles’ Creed. The phrase, in the words of Swiss theologian Karl Barth, rounds off “a whole series of perfects: begotten, conceived, born, suffered, crucified, dead, buried, descended, rose again,” and leads into “a new time which is our present time, the time of the Church, the end-time, inaugurated and founded by the work of Jesus Christ.” Therein lies the significance of the ascension. It signals the completion of Christ’s earthly ministry and sets the stage for the work he has been doing through his people ever since.

How is the mission of the church enabled by the ascension? In the first place, it validates the one whom we proclaim. Jesus being taken from their sight in a cloud is a strong echo of previous manifestations of God’s presence. In Scripture, the glory cloud was not an atmospheric phenomenon; it indicated that God was among his people. Secondly, upon his return to heaven, Jesus, as promised, poured out the Holy Spirit upon the waiting church so that it would be empowered to carry the good news to the ends of the earth. Thirdly, Jesus bodily presence in heaven affords the church the great comfort of knowing that our own heavenly future is guaranteed. Seated with him in heavenly places, by reason of our union with Christ, we labor here on earth confident of our own glorification as the King of kings leads us on in God’s victorious plan. Lastly, as we labor our High Priest intercedes for us, providing our justification and facilitating our sanctification.

The significance of the ascension cannot be overstated. It is, in the words of one theologian, “the necessary complement and completion of the resurrection. Christ’s transition to the higher life of glory, begun in the resurrection, was perfected in the ascension.” As such, it is the source of our confidence as we serve in this life the one who possesses a name above all names, as well as a precursor to our own perfection and glorification.

A Place of Rest

We’ve seen the cartoon in which a stranded man is crawling along in the desert, dying of thirst, and he looks out and, there, in the distance, water and palm trees! He charges toward the oasis and dives into the refreshing water only to find that it was a mirage, a trick of the eyes that mistook the heat shimmering off the desert floor for a pool of water. Splat! Instead of a mouthful of water, a mouthful of sand.

An oasis is a geographical phenomenon where, in the midst of barrenness, there springs up a source of water capable of sustaining life. Oases are the way stations and resting places of ancient caravan routes. In his famous invitation, Jesus puts himself forward as a kind of oasis. In a landscape made barren by sin, he offers, “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light” (Matthew 11:28-30). The invitation is to unite with Christ in a relationship in which he bears the burden of the law, as well as our sin and its consequences. It’s all of grace and we are blessed to be yoked to Jesus.

The church, in kind, needs to be an oasis; a place that offers Jesus’ promised rest. People weary from sin and overburdened by the world’s unrighteous expectations, need to know of the one who will take the burden from them. While this has always been an expectation for the church, in our day we need to particularly be an oasis for those struggling with same-sex attraction or who self-identify as gay. If their desire is to live in the manner that God desires, in our day they will not find the encouragement they need from those outside of the church. It is increasingly the case that they are not free to speak of their inner conflict for fear of a new form of Pharisaism, one practiced by those who embrace gay orthodoxy. Ironically, the church is the only place where they will hear that their desire to walk as God desires, while difficult, is good.

If we are to be a place of rest, however, then we need to search our hearts. Are we able to listen to the language of their struggle? Are we patient enough to bear with their habits and behaviors as they put of the old self and put on the new? To be an oasis we must reflect the love and mercy offered by the one who invites them to take his yoke upon them and learn from him. Those who come must not end up with a mouthful of sand when what they sought was water.

Forward-looking Faith

Living by faith is not easy. Let me clarify that statement. Living as though the future has a greater claim upon our lives than what confronts us on a daily basis is not easy. It has cost people their livelihood, even their lives. Yet, that’s what faith calls us to. We cannot see the future. We cannot feel the future. But we are to be assured that the future as God has envisioned it will come to pass, and faith says we must live now in the light of that truth.

Why is forward-looking faith so important? Because what awaits us -- what awaits all of us -- is the final shaking out of all that has transpired under the sun. All will come before God to give an account of their days, and the perfect judge will judge perfectly on that day. As he will know everything prior to our opening our mouths, it should be obvious that one’s only hope is to be found in Christ on that day, clothed in his perfect righteousness.

This future oriented perspective has the power to shape our daily existence. As Hebrews 11 and Psalm 37 outline, it enables us to push back against sin and the sinful, proclaim the gospel, persevere through trials, and even pass peacefully from this life to the next. For example, it empowered Noah to publicly bear witness to God’s word, Abraham to leave the known for the unknown, Joseph to confidently declare that the future God had promised his people would come to pass despite the evident strength of the present to deny it, Moses to identify with the people of God when blending in was a real option, and Samson to believe that past failings do not need to define future reality. Additionally, keeping our eyes focused on the Lord’s future we need not fear or envy the wicked. They may have power to trouble us in this life but they are powerless to separate us from the hope set before us; they may prosper on account of their wickedness but their temporal blessing will only bring eternal condemnation.

Living out forward-looking faith is not easy for the present seems so much more persuasive. But if we remind ourselves who holds the future and the reality he has promised, we will have strength to endure and possess the prize that awaits.

To Seek and to Save

Events that had been planned from eternity were about to unfold. Jesus, knowing that the “days drew near for him to be taken up,” had “set his face to go to Jerusalem” (Luke 9:51). That determination had brought him into proximity of the place that symbolized God’s presence among his people. Soon, despite the accolades that will accompany his entrance into Jerusalem, he will be rejected by the “righteous,” who should have been able to see him for who he was. They will remand him to be humiliated, tortured, and finally executed. Spiritual blindness was a persistent problem for Israel; now the malady would prove decisive. In a stroke of divine irony, however, a blind man will recognize him and an unrighteous man will welcome him.

Jesus proclamation that the “Son of Man came to seek and to save the lost” (Luke 19:10), reveals that the heart of his mission was to wrest from men and women any sense that they have no need of him. Men like Bartimaeus, a blind beggar, and Zacchaeus, a despised tax collector in the employ of Rome, were persuaded of this need, and when they heard that their savior was passing by, they laid hold of him.

Jesus’ encounters with these two men serve as a fitting exclamation point to his ministry prior to Holy Week. He had proclaimed his purposes early on in his hometown of Nazareth (see Luke 4:18-21) and he had been faithful in demonstrating that, as proclaimed, he had come “to seek and to save the lost.” That explanation of his work within the context of these two final encounters, places his entire enterprise within an eternal frame. The confession of Bartimaeus and the contriteness of Zacchaeus reveal faith in Jesus that saves them not only from earthly bondage but from eternal judgment as well.

Just after these encounters and prior to his ascent to Jerusalem, motivated by the misapprehension of many as to what was about to take place, Jesus relates a parable that warns of the consequences of not grasping who he is. The message: understand now and live accordingly, for when I return it will be too late. We are in that time period right now. It extends from the moment of his ascension until his reappearing. Pray that, like Bartimaeus and Zacchaeus, you will have ears to hear when the good news about Jesus is made known to you. The faith that will be engendered will result in eyes that will see him as the savior of the world.

Becoming Established

I think it not unlikely that when we hear that some one is involved in preaching the gospel we think of an evangelistic effort designed to bring someone to faith in Christ. Paul’s language from Romans 10 tracks along these lines: “if you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved . . . But how are they to call on him in whom they have not believed? And how are they to believe in him of whom they have never heard? And how are they to hear without someone preaching? And how are they to preach unless they are sent? As it is written, ‘How beautiful are the feet of those who preach the good news!’” Yet, in this same letter, when writing to Christians, Paul speaks of the gospel being used by God in an additional way: “Now to him who is able to strengthen you according to my gospel and the preaching of Jesus Christ . . .” (16:25). This is what we considered on a recent Sunday: how the message the church preaches, the good news that God has acted to save us from his just condemnation, not only saves us, but also strengthens, or establishes, us.

The goal that God has for his children (and, therefore, the goal that we his children should have for ourselves) is that they would become increasingly mature and steadfast in the faith. According to the apostle, this requires that we not leave the foundational message of the church behind after having been brought into the church by it. God intends to use the reality framing truth that we are sinners saved by grace to continually shape our thinking, responses, motivations, and plans.

How does this work? Well, knowing that all you deserve is hell yet you have been given heaven, and this gift was not anything you earned or bargained for, should temper any temptation you might have to think of yourself more highly than you have a right to think. Such humility will do wonders for your relationships across the board! It will also allow you to be grateful for your successes rather than boastful. On the other hand, knowing that God has expressed his love so profoundly and concretely in giving his son to intervene on your behalf, and that at the cost of his son’s life, should allow you to rest in the knowledge that you are cherished by God even when everyone around you devalues you to the point of virtual non-existence and you are inclined to agree with their estimation. Either response, self-exaltation or self-denigration, will be tempered by a deepening appreciation for the gospel. The shedding of both of these mind sets, along with a host of others, will mark us out as mature, established, strong men and women of the faith. And the source for such transformation is the gospel.

Church 101

Do you belong to a church? You should. Associating with a particular church and involving yourself in the life of that community is the biblical norm. The thought that a Christian would consider him or herself a member of the body of Christ without joining a particular expression of Christ’s life, would have met with apostolic incredulity. Despite the widespread individualism found in the American church, membership in a particular congregation is basic. In truth, it’s beginner stuff -- Church 101.

Every scriptural figure or metaphor for the church depicts a relationship among believers that is inescapable and indivisible. Perhaps the most vivid in terms of the indivisibility and necessity of church belonging is when Paul likens the various members of the church to parts of a body: “For just as the body is one and has many members, and all the members of the body, though many, are one body, so it is with Christ . . . For the body does not consist of one member but of many. If the foot should say, ‘Because I am not a hand, I do not belong to the body,’ that would not make it any less a part of the body . . . The eye cannot say to the hand, “I have no need of you,” nor again the head to the feet, “I have no need of you’ . . . Now you are the body of Christ and individually members of it” (1 Corinthians 12). The force of Paul’s argument challenges all expressions of go-it-alone individualism among the church of Jesus Christ.

Joining a church indicates a seriousness of pursuing Christ that is balanced and biblical. When you take on the challenge of being a Christian in community, you move from being a consumer to a contributor. Private expressions of faith and personal devotions are tools that the Lord will use to deepen one’s knowledge of him, but it is the hard work of living together as God’s people that will prove the most stretching. You bring your strengths and your weaknesses to the relationship and all those with whom you are in covenant will benefit. If you are not already in covenant with a group of biblically minded Christians, then prayerfully seek one out and join it. It’s what Jesus wants you to do.

Becoming Persuaded

It’s not unusual to receive a report from Open Doors or Voice of the Martyrs (organizations that monitor the persecution of Christians) about a woman or man who formerly would have identified as Muslim but has now converted to Christianity, being threatened with death unless he or she converts back to Islam. It's humbling to hear of the threatened brother or sister holding “fast the confession of our hope without wavering” (Hebrews 10:23). Why would they rather die than yield up their belief in Christ? It can only be that they have become persuaded that faith in Christ is more valuable than even life itself.

Persuading people is at the heart of the gospel enterprise, while “point-of-the-sword” conversions, like the kind alluded to above, are anathema. Though the church has been guilty of promoting such spurious “conversions,” it was not the practice of the apostles and cannot be the practice of any gospel believing and preaching church.

The gospel is a message to be proclaimed and believed. Both activities engage the heart and mind. Coercive practices subjugate them.  A person might submit out of fear, but fear is not faith – and faith is what is called for by the good news.

In this vain, it’s important to acknowledge that Paul says that he could have “commanded” Philemon to receive Onesimus back but preferred to appeal to him (Philemon 8-9). This is because, I would suggest, Paul trusted the gospel way of getting things done. He wanted his friend to be personally persuaded that forgiveness, love, and reconciliation was the right course of action for a Christian. And being persuaded, he could meet the personal and societal challenges of such a turn of events with persevering faith.

So, whether it’s first coming to faith in Christ or pressing on in the new life set before us, being persuaded as to the goodness of the person, purposes, and power of God is key. Without being convinced of these things we will not joyously follow Christ out of love and faith. Our hearts will lack ardor and our faith will prove tentative and, as we will be prone to doubts and fears, the ability to confess, “I can do all things through him who strengthens me” (Philippians 4:13) will not be ours.  The best we will be able to offer him is grudging, reluctant, and timid obedience.

Invitation to Grow

Koinonia, a Greek word that has rich meaning for the Christian. It stands for the reality that in Christ believers, bound together by our faith in Jesus, are called to mutual participation and identification with other believers. As N. T. Wright instructs: “The idea that we need to grasp . . . is that, in Christ, Christians not only belong to one another but actually become mutually identified, truly rejoicing with the happy and genuinely weeping with the sad . . . Koinonia is part of the truth about the body of Christ. All are bound together in a mutual bond that makes our much-prized individualism look shallow and petty.”

In theory, koinonia is noble. In practice, it is difficult. Followers of Jesus are brought into the body of Christ by the electing grace of God. As a result, we find ourselves in fellowship with people that we might not normally gravitate towards, and once in relationship we are called to maintain that relationship, sometimes at great cost. But if we are willing to pay the price, there is great reward.

This is what Paul was assuring Philemon when he asked him to receive back into his household Onesimus, his runaway slave, newly converted. Paul knew that this would be challenging for Philemon. But if his friend would fully embrace the implications of koinonia he would grow to understand in a deeper way what it means to be in fellowship with Christ and Christ’s people. Wright’s paraphrase of Philemon 6 is to the point, “I am praying that the mutual participation, which is proper to the Christian faith you hold, may have its full effect in your realization of every good thing that God wants to accomplish in us to lead us into the fullness of Christian fellowship, that is, of Christ.”

So, those folks with whom you worship each Sunday, you are bound to them in Christ. You are called, therefore, to koinonia, mutually identifying and participating in life with them for they, too, have been reconciled to God through the blood of the cross. In humility, work out your differences; in generosity, rejoice when they rejoice; with empathy, join them in their sorrow; in love for Christ, serve beside them in his kingdom. In this way we will all mature, until we “grow up in every way into him who is the head, into Christ” (Ephesians 4:15).

God Willing, God Willed

As Christians, we often qualify our future plans with a breezy, "God willing." But it's much harder, when our plans don't work out, to say, "God willed." 

I recall theologian R.C. Sproul, while teaching on the sovereignty of God admitting that if knew there was one molecule that was outside of God’s control, he would be terrified. It would mean that God was not God because there was something operating outside of his influence and power. Now, if God were a despot, then the realization that something was outside of his control would be good news. It would mean that there was hope for revolution, a change of regimes! But as God is a loving, wise, just, and merciful father, the knowledge that he is in absolute and total control brings peace. And it should allow us to say, "God willed," as easily as we say, "God willing."

What would it have sounded like to Philemon when Paul suggested that the thievery and flight of his slave, Onesimus, happened as part of some divine plan so that he might be received back by Philemon not as a slave but as a beloved brother? (Cf. Philemon 15-16) His initial evaluation might have been, “NONSENSE!!” But this dance of human will and divine will that Paul alluded to is, in part, what we considered in our church this past Sunday under the term "providence."

Though hard to mentally grasp, we are to know that all of God’s creation is enveloped in his will. All that comes to pass, therefore, is never due to chance, fate, or some other impersonal force. Rather, in the words of the Heidelberg Catechism, God’s ever-present power “rules in such a way that leaves and grass, rain and drought, fruitful and unfruitful years, food and drink, health and sickness, riches and poverty, and everything else, come to us not by chance but by his fatherly hand” (Question 27). If this is true, then even the sin of Onesimus is encompassed within the over-arching will of God. This does not alleviate the sinner of his responsibility, but it does mean that no matter what transpires, God’s will, which is always good, will be done.

Paul’s soaring language in Romans 8 resonates with confidence in divine providence. I urge you to read it, mediate upon it, pray over it, so that you might affirm with him that nothing “in all creation, will be able to separate [you] from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

Gospel Trangression

The late George Wallace, former Governor of Alabama, proclaimed in his January 14, 1963, inaugural speech, “In the name of the greatest people that have ever trod this earth, I draw the line in the dust and toss the gauntlet before the feet of tyranny, and I say segregation now, segregation tomorrow, segregation forever.” In June of that same year he sought to make good on that declaration when he blocked the entrance to the University of Alabama, seeking to prevent Vivian Malone and James Hood, two black students, from registering at the school. And again, in September of 1963, he sought to prevent black children from attending four different elementary schools. A product of his culture and an adherent to the mores of the then “deep south,” Wallace was acting in accordance with his self-justifying, self-promoting, and self-protecting worldview.

But in 1979, Wallace said of his “Stand at the Schoolhouse Door,” “I was wrong. Those days are over, and they ought to be over.” He had come to faith in Christ and as a result he “apologized to black civil rights leaders for his past actions as a segregationist. He said that while he had once sought power and glory, he realized he needed to seek love and forgiveness” (“George Wallace,” Wikipedia). This is the transgressive power of the gospel. Awakened to his sin of racial and cultural gerrymandering, he crossed the boundaries of race, history, and societal pressure to seek reconciliation.

We need to seriously consider this kind of outworking of Christ’s reconciling death on the cross. The sin that separated us from God has also consistently generated sinful societal boundaries that serve to keep some in power while forcing others to the margins. In the process of reconciling all things to himself, whether on earth or in heaven, Christ calls his disciples to pick up their crosses and follow him as he transgresses those lines to implement his plan for his sin-racked creation. And, as reconciling us to God took the transgressive act of the Son of God leaving the glories of heaven that he might both live and die for us on this earth, we can expect that following our Lord across sinfully constructed boundaries will cost us something. It did for him. But motivated by love and empowered by his Spirit we can prove effective agents of reconciliation in an often cruelly divided world.

"Can we all get along?"

“Can we all get along?” This was the plaint of Rodney King in 1992 in the riot torn city of Los Angeles after violence broke out in the wake of what most perceived to be an unjust verdict that acquitted the officers who were caught on videotape beating him. An already strained relationship between the LA police and the black community reached a breaking point with devastating results: 53 deaths, 2,383 injuries, and over $1,000,000,000 in damages; a terrifying and troubling example of sin’s disruptive power.

The truth is we can’t all get along. Fractures in even the strongest of relationships seem inevitable. Peace between people takes work. Recently at Neighborhood Church, we considered two of the resources the gospel provides in that effort:  unity and forgiveness. By unity is meant our commonality as human beings. We are all made in the image of God. This means that we are not free to regard others in a manner any different than how we would want to be regarded. We are all made in the image of God, yet we have all fallen short of the glory of God. We are all in need, therefore, of the redemptive and reconciling work of Christ. That’s true whether you are the slave owner, Philemon, or the slave, Onesimus (we’ve been looking at Paul’s letter to Philemon on Sundays). For those in Christ, our commonality is deepened for we all have him as our head and all drink from the symbolic one cup. Embracing our commonality goes a long way in undermining presumed superiority while instilling humility, two important ingredients for removing enmity between people.

The necessity and ability to forgive flows from the fact that through the reconciling work of Christ we have been “delivered . . . from the domain of darkness and transferred . . . to the kingdom of his beloved Son, in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins” (Colossians 1:13-14). The expectation is that as the Lord has forgiven us, we will also forgive; as we know the blessing of being forgiven, out of love we must grant it to others (Colossians 3:13). The contrast of reactions between the father and the older brother in the familiar parable of the prodigal son reveals the kind of heart Jesus wants us to have: ready to forgive when repentance is proffered.

I suspect each of us can think of a person who presents a challenge along these lines. We should make that one a project: praying for him or her to come to an understanding of how he or she has offended, while at the same time asking God for a heart that is desirous to lovingly pronounce forgiveness when the Lord answers our prayers for the other.

The Great Reconciliation

In his opening words to the Colossians, Paul offers some of the most exalted language regarding Jesus in the New Testament. He attaches activity and characteristics that are reserved for God alone, including bringing everything into existence: “For by him all things were created, in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or authorities—all things were created through him and for him” (1:16). He then presents Christ’s work upon the cross as an act of reconciliation. Christ, in whom “all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell,” acted “to reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, making peace by the blood of his cross” (1:19-20).

Scripture teaches that man’s failure and the subsequent injection of sin and death into that which Christ made is the cause of the disharmony that exists between humans, humans and animals, humans and creation. “To reconcile all things,” therefore, suggests that Christ’s sacrifice on the cross is meant to address the effects of sin not only in the lives of human beings, but in the rest of creation as well. This finds support when Paul states elsewhere that “the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the sons of God” for then “the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to decay” (Romans 8:19, 21).

This broadens the responsibility of the Christian. With Christ as our head (Colossians 1:18), we should expect to be used as his agents of reconciliation “far as the curse is found,” to use the words of Isaac Watts. Preaching faith and repentance, alleviating suffering, addressing injustice, or restoring broken relationships, are reconciling activities made possible through the power of Christ at work in his church. This is our labor until the day when all will be reconciled and we stand before him in the New Heavens and New Earth.