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.