What can one say for a Christmas blog, except: "God is so generous, may we all treat each other likewise." If he who did not spare his own son, but gave him up for us all, how will he not, along with him, graciously give us all things...
We have all we need from him, let us take his example, and be generous, even with those things precious to us, as the master, so the servant.
May God bless your Christmas, and give you his peace,
doug.
Sunday, December 19, 2010
Sunday, December 12, 2010
There is no half measure
There is something terrifyingly absolute about the Christian life. On the one hand Christ is profoundly gentle, merciful, bearing with our weakness, forgiving iniquity and sin… but on the other hand, those within the bounds of his grace are but few and strangely single minded about who they are.
I think of the rich young ruler of Matthew 19. He did so many things that were pleasing to God, yet still he was not one of Christ’s own.
I think of the letters to the seven churches in Revelation. Every church bar one has its weaknesses and is rebuked for them, but only two of the seven are threatened with being abandoned by God. And they’re not the ones full of struggling recommitting sinners, and they’re not the ones with doctrinal flaws, they’re the ones whose love has grown cold, who have sought some mid-ground between the world and their Lord.
As John says: do you not know that friendship with the world is enmity towards God?
Christ does not ask much of us… yet he asks all of us. He does not ask us to be perfect, or to be able to change the world single-handedly, but he does ask for our whole heart, our whole love. How comprehensive is Paul’s assessment of the Christian life in 1Corinthians 6: You are not your own, you were bought at a price…
“When Christ calls a man, he bids him come and die…”
Not what we can give, but ourselves, is Christ’s call upon our lives. Are we willing to give that most precious of treasures?
dh
I think of the rich young ruler of Matthew 19. He did so many things that were pleasing to God, yet still he was not one of Christ’s own.
I think of the letters to the seven churches in Revelation. Every church bar one has its weaknesses and is rebuked for them, but only two of the seven are threatened with being abandoned by God. And they’re not the ones full of struggling recommitting sinners, and they’re not the ones with doctrinal flaws, they’re the ones whose love has grown cold, who have sought some mid-ground between the world and their Lord.
As John says: do you not know that friendship with the world is enmity towards God?
Christ does not ask much of us… yet he asks all of us. He does not ask us to be perfect, or to be able to change the world single-handedly, but he does ask for our whole heart, our whole love. How comprehensive is Paul’s assessment of the Christian life in 1Corinthians 6: You are not your own, you were bought at a price…
“When Christ calls a man, he bids him come and die…”
Not what we can give, but ourselves, is Christ’s call upon our lives. Are we willing to give that most precious of treasures?
dh
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Trying to live without Jesus
Trying to live without Jesus: That's the sort of thing you'd expect your average street level member of society to do, but I think it's actually pretty common amongst Christians as well. Now I'm not sure whether they do it because they're trying to look good before their peers, or whether they do it because they think it's 'not encouraging' to talk about their sins and failures, but the number of Christians I know who spend their time pretending they've got their lives together, when they patently haven't, means I have to stop and reflect on this.
Why is it that Christians seem afraid to admit that they're sinners, or that they're struggling with things, or that they don't love as they should, or care as they should? Because the underlying implication of such a stance is that you tell yourself and the world that you need Jesus less than you really do. And if you actually manage to convince yourself that you are humble and gentle and genuine and true, when I strongly suspect you're not, then you're convincing yourself that you don't much need Jesus, and could probably do without him, or if you do need him he's only for the rough edges, basically your heart is one of gold...
How can anyone ever have a heart consumed by worship, adoration, gratitude towards their Lord Jesus when they've convinced themselves that they don't really need him? How can churches be filled with unconditional adoration of Jesus when they're consumed by the studious avoiding of any obvious implication that they need the salvation he offers?
It seems to me that until truth reigns among God's people, worship will be a scarce and fragile thing. Until we grasp just how much we need Jesus, and cease to fear the censure of others so as to live for Christ's glory alone, we will never be true to ourselves, true to each other, or true to God.
This is my plea to Christians: be honest about your brokenness. Jesus came as the Gentle Messiah to bind up the broken hearted and gather those who wander in darkness. If that's you, be honest about it, it's his opinion that matters anyway.
doug.
Why is it that Christians seem afraid to admit that they're sinners, or that they're struggling with things, or that they don't love as they should, or care as they should? Because the underlying implication of such a stance is that you tell yourself and the world that you need Jesus less than you really do. And if you actually manage to convince yourself that you are humble and gentle and genuine and true, when I strongly suspect you're not, then you're convincing yourself that you don't much need Jesus, and could probably do without him, or if you do need him he's only for the rough edges, basically your heart is one of gold...
How can anyone ever have a heart consumed by worship, adoration, gratitude towards their Lord Jesus when they've convinced themselves that they don't really need him? How can churches be filled with unconditional adoration of Jesus when they're consumed by the studious avoiding of any obvious implication that they need the salvation he offers?
It seems to me that until truth reigns among God's people, worship will be a scarce and fragile thing. Until we grasp just how much we need Jesus, and cease to fear the censure of others so as to live for Christ's glory alone, we will never be true to ourselves, true to each other, or true to God.
This is my plea to Christians: be honest about your brokenness. Jesus came as the Gentle Messiah to bind up the broken hearted and gather those who wander in darkness. If that's you, be honest about it, it's his opinion that matters anyway.
doug.
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Christ and the end of the Law
What do you do with a passage like that in 1 Corinthians 10.23? Does Paul really mean what he says when he says that all things are permissible for me? Can he really mean that? Doesn't that fly in the face of just about every Christian sermon for the last 2000 years, which all end with: do this and don't do that?
I know people like to avoid those verses by saying that Paul is only quoting someone else, but I can't escape the nagging suspicion that he's quoting them and agreeing with them at the same time. But how is that possible in the context of the very real right and wrong that we see expressed in various places in the bible? Surely Paul doesn't mean that a little bit of idolatry is permissible, even though it's not beneficial? Surely?
I'm not going to pretend that I've got a complete answer to that question, but I do suspect that there is actually a great deal of truth here that our overly simplistic readings of God's morality have obscured. If I take seriously the claim that Christ's sacrifice has freed me from the law, then in some sense I'm accepting as truth, that the right and wrong of the law no longer apply to me. That doesn't mean that the law was anything but correct to speak of right and wrong, or that anything about that right and wrong have changed, only that living shielded by Christ's sacrifice the reality and consequences of that right and wrong no longer reach me. Rather I am free, free from fear of the law, free from fear of judgement, there is truly no condemnation for me in Christ. And at that point it becomes truth indeed that everything is permissible for me, though not necessarily beneficial.
Controversial though this will sound, I could theoretically sin and sin again with impunity, Christ's sacrifice has covered me. Everything is permissible for me, what freedom to be and do whatever I want to be and do!!!!
Now before anyone thinks I'm advocating an end to morality and an anarchist state, let me hold up for a moment the counter image. If I have been renewed by the Spirit, then while I have escaped slavery to the law and its categories of right and wrong, I have now become a slave to the Spirit, to seek that which pleases him. This is one of the great tests to see if the Spirit of Christ is living in us: do we long for that which God longs for, do we seek that which is good and right? If we have the Spirit, we will seek those things, even though there is no threat compelling us, but only the longing that there might be a smile on the face of God.
This leads me into a connected but fascinating area of reflection: discipleship and the impossibility of either success or failure in that context. If I am beyond the law and its threat, which I believe in Christ's sacrifice I am, and if I believe that God is sovereign in ordering my days and ways, which I do, and also that God's highest goal is my likeness to Christ and not simply whether I get several behavioural tests right, which I believe to be true, then it actually ceases to be possible to speak of success or failure in the life of the disciple.
Say I sin, in some way, is it morally wrong? Yes. But if it produces in me a longing for holiness I didn't have before and a seeking after the likeness of Christ, is it still wrong? Can the end justify the means in discipleship? I suppose another way of asking the question is: does the redemption of mankind justify Jesus going to the cross? Is there a sense in which that incredible evil is justified? It's not an easy question to answer, but in God's providence I think we have to say yes. And if we live beyond the law in Christ, then whatever leads to my giving greater glory to God and being transformed into his likeness is thereby more good than evil, though it might seem to contravene traditional standards of right and wrong.
Does that stretch your mind? It stretches mine, but it also frees me. Now when I sin, I pick myself up, praise God for the experience and try once again to be like Jesus where I am and with my new knowledge. How can I praise God in all things, including my sin? I can do it because I am beyond the law and as a disciple, all things are truly permissible for me.
Thank God for his inestimable gift in Jesus Christ!
I know people like to avoid those verses by saying that Paul is only quoting someone else, but I can't escape the nagging suspicion that he's quoting them and agreeing with them at the same time. But how is that possible in the context of the very real right and wrong that we see expressed in various places in the bible? Surely Paul doesn't mean that a little bit of idolatry is permissible, even though it's not beneficial? Surely?
I'm not going to pretend that I've got a complete answer to that question, but I do suspect that there is actually a great deal of truth here that our overly simplistic readings of God's morality have obscured. If I take seriously the claim that Christ's sacrifice has freed me from the law, then in some sense I'm accepting as truth, that the right and wrong of the law no longer apply to me. That doesn't mean that the law was anything but correct to speak of right and wrong, or that anything about that right and wrong have changed, only that living shielded by Christ's sacrifice the reality and consequences of that right and wrong no longer reach me. Rather I am free, free from fear of the law, free from fear of judgement, there is truly no condemnation for me in Christ. And at that point it becomes truth indeed that everything is permissible for me, though not necessarily beneficial.
Controversial though this will sound, I could theoretically sin and sin again with impunity, Christ's sacrifice has covered me. Everything is permissible for me, what freedom to be and do whatever I want to be and do!!!!
Now before anyone thinks I'm advocating an end to morality and an anarchist state, let me hold up for a moment the counter image. If I have been renewed by the Spirit, then while I have escaped slavery to the law and its categories of right and wrong, I have now become a slave to the Spirit, to seek that which pleases him. This is one of the great tests to see if the Spirit of Christ is living in us: do we long for that which God longs for, do we seek that which is good and right? If we have the Spirit, we will seek those things, even though there is no threat compelling us, but only the longing that there might be a smile on the face of God.
This leads me into a connected but fascinating area of reflection: discipleship and the impossibility of either success or failure in that context. If I am beyond the law and its threat, which I believe in Christ's sacrifice I am, and if I believe that God is sovereign in ordering my days and ways, which I do, and also that God's highest goal is my likeness to Christ and not simply whether I get several behavioural tests right, which I believe to be true, then it actually ceases to be possible to speak of success or failure in the life of the disciple.
Say I sin, in some way, is it morally wrong? Yes. But if it produces in me a longing for holiness I didn't have before and a seeking after the likeness of Christ, is it still wrong? Can the end justify the means in discipleship? I suppose another way of asking the question is: does the redemption of mankind justify Jesus going to the cross? Is there a sense in which that incredible evil is justified? It's not an easy question to answer, but in God's providence I think we have to say yes. And if we live beyond the law in Christ, then whatever leads to my giving greater glory to God and being transformed into his likeness is thereby more good than evil, though it might seem to contravene traditional standards of right and wrong.
Does that stretch your mind? It stretches mine, but it also frees me. Now when I sin, I pick myself up, praise God for the experience and try once again to be like Jesus where I am and with my new knowledge. How can I praise God in all things, including my sin? I can do it because I am beyond the law and as a disciple, all things are truly permissible for me.
Thank God for his inestimable gift in Jesus Christ!
Sunday, November 7, 2010
Why was Jesus sure he would rise?
How did Jesus know he was going to rise from the dead? I mean, he was so certain that he would not only suffer, but would also rise... how did he know?
After all, the scriptures are supposed to testify to this, and when it comes to the suffering, that's easy enough to find. There are plenty of references in Isaiah, not to mention the experience of every servant of God to come before him, so whether in direct prophecy or typologically, there is plenty of evidence for the fact that Jesus as God's servant was going to suffer and die... but how did he know he was going to rise?
Sure there are some rather oblique references in Isaiah to resurrection generally: 25.8, 26.19, but where did the certainty come from that he himself, the servant of the Lord would rise?? One day I'll write a fuller article about this, but here's my suspicion:
Jesus had a way of seeing things implied in Scripture when they are not clearly stated. Think for example of the way he reasoned for the resurrection from the fact that God IS the god of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob in Matt 22.32. A present tense in God's statement about himself is enough to tip Jesus off to the fact that the death of the body is not the final end of the person.
I suspect his expectation of his own resurrection is reasoned in a similar manner.
Take for example Psalm 22. It's a Psalm that at so many points Jesus applied to himself. Through the first 20 and a 1/2 verses the suffering of God's servant is plain, what is not plain is the presence of Resurrection. But wouldn't you almost expect Resurrection to be there if it was as integral to Christ's mission as he thought it was? If this Psalm is such a clear statement of the experience of God's servant, wouldn't you expect Resurrection to be there? I think it is. It's implied.
Verse 21 begins with the subject calling for God's deliverance, he has been poured out, his bones are showing, they have pierced him, and he cries out to be saved from the mouth of the lion... Then what happens? There's a miraculous turnaround. The second half of verse 21 is a clear statement of his having been delivered. But how? How is it possible to go from the suffering and abandonment of the first 20 & 1/2 verses to the confident assertion of deliverance in the second half of verse 21? I think the answer is resurrection. In the same way Jesus sees resurrection implied in the relationship of God with Abraham, Jesus sees his own resurrection implied in the reversal of fortune seen in Psalm 22.
And if you are willing to accept implied resurrection then you begin to see it everywhere. Take Isaiah 49 as an example. The early verses of Isaiah 49 are a constant confusion of positive statements about the servant and heartbreaking reflections on his powerlessness and pain. In verses 1-2 the servant is called, named, and made to be a polished arrow, but then he's hidden, concealed. In verse 3 he is the servant in whom God will be glorified, but then in verse 4 he seems to have laboured in vain. All this potential seems to have emptied itself into vanity and the spending of strength for nothing. But then, once again, we see this impossible turn around. The second half of verse 4 has the servant's recompense being with God and his right is with the Lord. How is it possible? How is it possible to be both poured out and still successful? I suspect the reason is resurrection.
If we're looking for resurrection throughout the whole of the Old Testament, and not just a few isolated texts, then I think the place to see it is both typologically in the deliverance of God's servants and prophetically in the paradoxical reversals of fortune God's servants seem to experience.
Would Jesus have seen it there? It's only conjecture, but somehow it seems to be the way he read his bible.
After all, the scriptures are supposed to testify to this, and when it comes to the suffering, that's easy enough to find. There are plenty of references in Isaiah, not to mention the experience of every servant of God to come before him, so whether in direct prophecy or typologically, there is plenty of evidence for the fact that Jesus as God's servant was going to suffer and die... but how did he know he was going to rise?
Sure there are some rather oblique references in Isaiah to resurrection generally: 25.8, 26.19, but where did the certainty come from that he himself, the servant of the Lord would rise?? One day I'll write a fuller article about this, but here's my suspicion:
Jesus had a way of seeing things implied in Scripture when they are not clearly stated. Think for example of the way he reasoned for the resurrection from the fact that God IS the god of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob in Matt 22.32. A present tense in God's statement about himself is enough to tip Jesus off to the fact that the death of the body is not the final end of the person.
I suspect his expectation of his own resurrection is reasoned in a similar manner.
Take for example Psalm 22. It's a Psalm that at so many points Jesus applied to himself. Through the first 20 and a 1/2 verses the suffering of God's servant is plain, what is not plain is the presence of Resurrection. But wouldn't you almost expect Resurrection to be there if it was as integral to Christ's mission as he thought it was? If this Psalm is such a clear statement of the experience of God's servant, wouldn't you expect Resurrection to be there? I think it is. It's implied.
Verse 21 begins with the subject calling for God's deliverance, he has been poured out, his bones are showing, they have pierced him, and he cries out to be saved from the mouth of the lion... Then what happens? There's a miraculous turnaround. The second half of verse 21 is a clear statement of his having been delivered. But how? How is it possible to go from the suffering and abandonment of the first 20 & 1/2 verses to the confident assertion of deliverance in the second half of verse 21? I think the answer is resurrection. In the same way Jesus sees resurrection implied in the relationship of God with Abraham, Jesus sees his own resurrection implied in the reversal of fortune seen in Psalm 22.
And if you are willing to accept implied resurrection then you begin to see it everywhere. Take Isaiah 49 as an example. The early verses of Isaiah 49 are a constant confusion of positive statements about the servant and heartbreaking reflections on his powerlessness and pain. In verses 1-2 the servant is called, named, and made to be a polished arrow, but then he's hidden, concealed. In verse 3 he is the servant in whom God will be glorified, but then in verse 4 he seems to have laboured in vain. All this potential seems to have emptied itself into vanity and the spending of strength for nothing. But then, once again, we see this impossible turn around. The second half of verse 4 has the servant's recompense being with God and his right is with the Lord. How is it possible? How is it possible to be both poured out and still successful? I suspect the reason is resurrection.
If we're looking for resurrection throughout the whole of the Old Testament, and not just a few isolated texts, then I think the place to see it is both typologically in the deliverance of God's servants and prophetically in the paradoxical reversals of fortune God's servants seem to experience.
Would Jesus have seen it there? It's only conjecture, but somehow it seems to be the way he read his bible.
Sunday, October 31, 2010
God doesn't listen to the hard hearted
Isaiah 58 is a fascinating piece of scripture. Fascinating for so many reasons, but the one I want to focus on today is the relationship between our care for the poor and oppressed and God's hearing of our prayers.
Isaiah 58 begins with a nation fasting, dressing itself in sackcloth, declaring sacred days, and then wondering why God doesn't seem to listen to their prayers. "We've declared a sacred day, we've denied ourselves, why O' God haven't you listened to us?" And God's answer is both confronting and informative. The first thing he does is point out the hypocrisy of the nation's fast: "Behold, in the day of your fast you seek your own pleasure, and oppress all your workers." (3) Religiosity doesn't please God one bit. He has more important things to pursue.
The second thing he does is tell them what sort of people he wants them to be, and then and only then will he listen to their prayers. "Is this not the fast that I choose: to loose the bonds of wickedness, to undo the straps of the yoke, to let the oppressed go free." (6) and if they do: "Then shall you call, and the Lord will answer; you shall cry, and he will say: 'here I am'." (9)
There is a nexus between mercy and prayer; between a compassionate heart and prayer. God knows the proud from afar, but is near to the humble. We must not, we cannot forget that genuine relationship with God beats with a heart of prayer, and this is not possible, this cannot be, unless our hearts echo his and fill with compassion for those who desperately need it.
Until we release the bonds of the oppressed, we will call, but he will not answer.
So while you're thinking it might be a good idea to show some mercy, here are two links that I think are precious in the mercy they extend: The Grey Man and Compassion Australia
Blessings to you, and may God hear your prayers,
d
Isaiah 58 begins with a nation fasting, dressing itself in sackcloth, declaring sacred days, and then wondering why God doesn't seem to listen to their prayers. "We've declared a sacred day, we've denied ourselves, why O' God haven't you listened to us?" And God's answer is both confronting and informative. The first thing he does is point out the hypocrisy of the nation's fast: "Behold, in the day of your fast you seek your own pleasure, and oppress all your workers." (3) Religiosity doesn't please God one bit. He has more important things to pursue.
The second thing he does is tell them what sort of people he wants them to be, and then and only then will he listen to their prayers. "Is this not the fast that I choose: to loose the bonds of wickedness, to undo the straps of the yoke, to let the oppressed go free." (6) and if they do: "Then shall you call, and the Lord will answer; you shall cry, and he will say: 'here I am'." (9)
There is a nexus between mercy and prayer; between a compassionate heart and prayer. God knows the proud from afar, but is near to the humble. We must not, we cannot forget that genuine relationship with God beats with a heart of prayer, and this is not possible, this cannot be, unless our hearts echo his and fill with compassion for those who desperately need it.
Until we release the bonds of the oppressed, we will call, but he will not answer.
So while you're thinking it might be a good idea to show some mercy, here are two links that I think are precious in the mercy they extend: The Grey Man and Compassion Australia
Blessings to you, and may God hear your prayers,
d
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Christ is not a lifestyle choice
I'm getting tired of 'gospel' presentations that present Christianity as either a lifestyle option or a better life insurance policy.
As long as the gospel is presented as some permutation on the idea that there are bad/good things ahead that you don't/do want, here's how you can avoid/embrace them, the focus is entirely upon the recipient and what they want for themselves. Once again, our presentation gives in to the perpetual pressure to allow people to place themselves at the centre and order their world to suit their own tastes. The Christian message is then a lifestyle choice, and if you can find a better offer, like coming back as a grasshopper, you're at liberty to take it. As I read it, that's not the gospel, just some deformation/attenuation of it.
Such passages as Psalm 2, Romans 1.1-4, Mark 1.1, 1 Corinthians 15.1-7, Colossians 1.21-23... lead me to the conclusion that our salvation is the result of this gospel, or an aspect of the gospel, but not the heart of the gospel itself. The Gospel is that Jesus Christ was declared to be the Son of God by his resurrection from the dead, (which is why the sermons in Acts focus on the resurrection not the atonement).
And the beauty of this reality is that it's not something subject to our consumer whim. Jesus is King, he was declared to be so by his resurrection from the dead, and now the only question left you, is how will you respond to him. It doesn't matter whether you think he doesn't exist, or that you'd rather believe in a cyclic universe, Jesus is Lord and one day you will have to reckon with that, whether that suits your taste or not.
And this is a divisive gospel, just as it was in Jesus' day. No one can argue with your choice not to take out eternal life insurance, but if there is a king and you remain in rebellion against him, then you are a rebel and deserve everything you might get. There is something wicked at the heart of the act of refusing Christ if he is indeed King. The choice becomes morally loaded, rather than morally neutral.
So long as we ignore the emphasis on Jesus as Lord at the heart of the gospel, we say gentle things and people are not offended, but neither is the gospel truly proclaimed. Jesus is Lord, now therefore O kings be wise; be warned, o rulers of the earth... kiss the son, lest he be angry, and you perish in the way.
As long as the gospel is presented as some permutation on the idea that there are bad/good things ahead that you don't/do want, here's how you can avoid/embrace them, the focus is entirely upon the recipient and what they want for themselves. Once again, our presentation gives in to the perpetual pressure to allow people to place themselves at the centre and order their world to suit their own tastes. The Christian message is then a lifestyle choice, and if you can find a better offer, like coming back as a grasshopper, you're at liberty to take it. As I read it, that's not the gospel, just some deformation/attenuation of it.
Such passages as Psalm 2, Romans 1.1-4, Mark 1.1, 1 Corinthians 15.1-7, Colossians 1.21-23... lead me to the conclusion that our salvation is the result of this gospel, or an aspect of the gospel, but not the heart of the gospel itself. The Gospel is that Jesus Christ was declared to be the Son of God by his resurrection from the dead, (which is why the sermons in Acts focus on the resurrection not the atonement).
And the beauty of this reality is that it's not something subject to our consumer whim. Jesus is King, he was declared to be so by his resurrection from the dead, and now the only question left you, is how will you respond to him. It doesn't matter whether you think he doesn't exist, or that you'd rather believe in a cyclic universe, Jesus is Lord and one day you will have to reckon with that, whether that suits your taste or not.
And this is a divisive gospel, just as it was in Jesus' day. No one can argue with your choice not to take out eternal life insurance, but if there is a king and you remain in rebellion against him, then you are a rebel and deserve everything you might get. There is something wicked at the heart of the act of refusing Christ if he is indeed King. The choice becomes morally loaded, rather than morally neutral.
So long as we ignore the emphasis on Jesus as Lord at the heart of the gospel, we say gentle things and people are not offended, but neither is the gospel truly proclaimed. Jesus is Lord, now therefore O kings be wise; be warned, o rulers of the earth... kiss the son, lest he be angry, and you perish in the way.
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Sabbath is a gift, not an obligation
Do you want to echo the New Creation? Make sure you don't forget to include a Sabbath in that. Sabbath is not something that God introduced because of the fall. It wasn't as if communications technology was invading every recess of our otherwise overcommitted lives and preventing us from ever spending silent time alone with God, and so God introduced Sabbath. It wasn't because we were so caught up with what God's law still requires of us and what is no longer required of us, that when we realised that Jesus didn't restate the Sabbath command we quickly put in in the 'don't have to do that' box and got on with other things. It wasn't because we're so proud that we think God's kingdom and the world will fall apart without us so we can never just turn our phones off and go AWOL for a day... While all of those things are true, that's not why God instituted Sabbath.
God instituted Sabbath prior to the fall, he built it into the very fabric of creation, and he built it there even with his own omnipotence, which I'm sure means he never grows tired. Which really means that there's no reason either in creation or in us that provides the impetus for Sabbath, and therefore there's nothing that can be fulfilled or perfected such that Sabbath ceases to be both precious and necessary.
I have no doubt there will be a rhythm of work and rest in the New Creation. I have no doubt it'll look very much like Sabbath. If we are to anticipate the New Creation in our lives here, we will include Sabbath. And we do this not because it's sin not to, but because it's who we are and what the New Creation is.
In our over busy lives, Sabbath is a gift. Do you need an excuse to tell your social set you can't attend another function: Sabbath. Do you need a reason to convince your Session that you shouldn't be contact-able 24 hours a day 7 days a week: Sabbath. Do you need permission to stop and spend time with your wife and kids: Sabbath. Space to be a better parent: Sabbath. Space to look after your high blood pressure: Sabbath. Sabbath is the gift of God for the rest of his people and his world.
Don't scoff at it and try to minimise it, thank God for his precious gift of Sabbath.
God instituted Sabbath prior to the fall, he built it into the very fabric of creation, and he built it there even with his own omnipotence, which I'm sure means he never grows tired. Which really means that there's no reason either in creation or in us that provides the impetus for Sabbath, and therefore there's nothing that can be fulfilled or perfected such that Sabbath ceases to be both precious and necessary.
I have no doubt there will be a rhythm of work and rest in the New Creation. I have no doubt it'll look very much like Sabbath. If we are to anticipate the New Creation in our lives here, we will include Sabbath. And we do this not because it's sin not to, but because it's who we are and what the New Creation is.
In our over busy lives, Sabbath is a gift. Do you need an excuse to tell your social set you can't attend another function: Sabbath. Do you need a reason to convince your Session that you shouldn't be contact-able 24 hours a day 7 days a week: Sabbath. Do you need permission to stop and spend time with your wife and kids: Sabbath. Space to be a better parent: Sabbath. Space to look after your high blood pressure: Sabbath. Sabbath is the gift of God for the rest of his people and his world.
Don't scoff at it and try to minimise it, thank God for his precious gift of Sabbath.
Sunday, October 10, 2010
The Case for Christian Environmentalism
A lot of Christian people love the wild places of the world, which is why it is somehow out of character that historically we haven't defended them. Historically it seems to me, the cred for environmental action has gone to people with more hair than strictly necessary, and a love of clothing with dangly bits. Why is that? Why haven't Christians taken a stand on environmental exploitation the way they have stood against the exploitation of morality and people. (as if environmental action is somehow not an issue of morality).
It seems to me that there are two major reasons Christians haven't stood up, and consequently two misunderstandings to overcome so that they will.
1. Christians have historically devalued the physical creation. There has been a tendency in Christian theology to describe our lives here as 'just passing through' despite the fairly clear evidence in the bible that we were created for a garden and the final destiny of humanity is a New Heavens and a: wait for it: New Earth. At both ends of eternity's linear timeline there is a physical creation within which humanity finds a home. Additionally, while it may be suggested that the fact that it's a New Earth means that this old one doesn't matter, that's not the biblical image. The biblical image is one of a seed leading to a new plant. This creation is the seed of the New Creation, and as such there is a continuity between the two and something of the content of this creation will continue to the New. The details of this continuity are not clear, but I suggest it would be unwise to assume a minimum, particularly considering man's pre-fall created purpose and place, to which we now turn.
2. The second reason Christians have largely failed in their creational responsibility is that they seem to have forgotten why they were created in the first place. Before the fall humanity were not created to do evangelism, or convert souls, or make disciples or any such thing. Prior to the entry of sin into the world humanity had a purpose, and that purpose was to tend and keep the garden, and extend that garden to the world by filling it and subduing it. Humanity's fundamental creational purpose was to be gardeners, which might explain why we find gardening so relaxing even now: something of an echo of our pre-fall purpose. The point I want to make however is that that created responsibility has never been withdrawn. Adam was still a gardener after the fall, though it was now a harder task. Mary was profoundly on target when she mistook Jesus for the gardener, and as we are conformed to the image of Christ he is the image of perfect humanity: Adam made perfect, gardening gloves included.
Once we understand that this creation matters, and that we were created to tend and keep it, rather than exploit or ignore it, it begins to look like Christians have a God given responsibility to labour for the balanced productive use of creation, its protection and its abundance.
I long to see Christians in every area of society, but today particularly I long to see Christians in places where they can defend and uphold the creation. Places they can labour to see it restored, in anticipation of the day when God himself will free it from its bondage to decay and bring it into the glorious freedom of the children of God.
It seems to me that there are two major reasons Christians haven't stood up, and consequently two misunderstandings to overcome so that they will.
1. Christians have historically devalued the physical creation. There has been a tendency in Christian theology to describe our lives here as 'just passing through' despite the fairly clear evidence in the bible that we were created for a garden and the final destiny of humanity is a New Heavens and a: wait for it: New Earth. At both ends of eternity's linear timeline there is a physical creation within which humanity finds a home. Additionally, while it may be suggested that the fact that it's a New Earth means that this old one doesn't matter, that's not the biblical image. The biblical image is one of a seed leading to a new plant. This creation is the seed of the New Creation, and as such there is a continuity between the two and something of the content of this creation will continue to the New. The details of this continuity are not clear, but I suggest it would be unwise to assume a minimum, particularly considering man's pre-fall created purpose and place, to which we now turn.
2. The second reason Christians have largely failed in their creational responsibility is that they seem to have forgotten why they were created in the first place. Before the fall humanity were not created to do evangelism, or convert souls, or make disciples or any such thing. Prior to the entry of sin into the world humanity had a purpose, and that purpose was to tend and keep the garden, and extend that garden to the world by filling it and subduing it. Humanity's fundamental creational purpose was to be gardeners, which might explain why we find gardening so relaxing even now: something of an echo of our pre-fall purpose. The point I want to make however is that that created responsibility has never been withdrawn. Adam was still a gardener after the fall, though it was now a harder task. Mary was profoundly on target when she mistook Jesus for the gardener, and as we are conformed to the image of Christ he is the image of perfect humanity: Adam made perfect, gardening gloves included.
Once we understand that this creation matters, and that we were created to tend and keep it, rather than exploit or ignore it, it begins to look like Christians have a God given responsibility to labour for the balanced productive use of creation, its protection and its abundance.
I long to see Christians in every area of society, but today particularly I long to see Christians in places where they can defend and uphold the creation. Places they can labour to see it restored, in anticipation of the day when God himself will free it from its bondage to decay and bring it into the glorious freedom of the children of God.
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Why be good
The debate continues to rage in the Australian church, and no doubt the wider church, about why Christians do good works. It's the age old conundrum: if we're saved by grace alone then it doesn't matter what we do... but there seem to be passages in the bible that insist that Christians will do it, what are we to do with those?
The most common response I get from evangelicals is that Christians do good works because we're thankful. It's the idea that because Jesus died for us we deny ourselves and do all sorts of things out of gratitude. While for a while that answer satisfied me, I'm now getting gradually more and more uncomfortable with it.
The way this response of gratitude is framed, it feels to me as if we do things because we feel indebted to Jesus, like we owe him something. Now there are healthier and less healthy ways to fulfil a debt of gratitude. It's perfectly possible, and in my experience it's actually more common, that such debts are paid with grudging obedience. An obvious possibility of this position is that often we're still doing things we don't really want to do. And it's here that I have my problem.
Virtually all the images of the genuine Christian life I find in the bible have the ring, the colour, the sound of joy about them. People are coming and laying down their lives for each other and the world and they are doing it with a smile. How is that possible? It's certainly not possible if the only reason we're doing it is a debt of gratitude. We actually have to want to do the things we do, no, more than that, rejoice at the chance to do them, in at least one case it's a matter of 'rejoicing for the chance to suffer for the sake of the name...' This doesn't sound anything like paying off a debt to me.
I suspect the heart of the problem lies in the attempt to encourage good works without reference to genuine, transforming, regeneration.
Is it not the case that when someone knows God they receive the Holy Spirit? Is it not further the case that a significant part of the work of the Holy Spirit in people is to make them new? He gives new hearts, he renews our minds, he disposes of the old and brings the new such that wherever the Christian is: there is new Creation (2Cor5.17).
On the issue of good sacrificial obedient works, what he gives is a new desire to see and do New Creation things.
Why do Christians do good works? I think the New Testament answer, is that we do them because we have a new nature and long to see them done.
Before we were renewed in our minds we welcomed people and were hospitable because we were thankful to Jesus and knew it was the right thing to do, there's little genuine joy there. As our hearts are renewed we begin to treasure people, we love them more, we delight to see them happy, we long to see them restored. Gradually the good works cease to be motivated by debt, and become what we genuinely wish for.
Before we were renewed in our hearts we forgave each other because we lived in fear of the reciprocal arrangement in the Lord's prayer and because someone had told us that until we forgive others we are held captive to our own unforgiveness. While both reasons are true, they are not the genuine motivations of the Christian life. As our hearts change, we begin to long for whole and healthy relationships, we cease to care so much for our own standing and appearance, we start to value restored relationships more than our own wounded pride, and so asking for forgiveness and extending it becomes a joy because we are seeking something we delight in: relationship.
Why do we do good works? It's not because we think they will get us anything particularly, either in the realm of salvation, or in the parallel realm of lifestyle. We do them because our renewed natures long for them, long to see them, be part of them and see the world healed by them.
This is the only way that good works will be a joy, and the only way that we can ever rejoice for the chance to suffer.
May God restore and make new his people, so we can stop arguing about why we do good works and simply get on with joy and do them.
The most common response I get from evangelicals is that Christians do good works because we're thankful. It's the idea that because Jesus died for us we deny ourselves and do all sorts of things out of gratitude. While for a while that answer satisfied me, I'm now getting gradually more and more uncomfortable with it.
The way this response of gratitude is framed, it feels to me as if we do things because we feel indebted to Jesus, like we owe him something. Now there are healthier and less healthy ways to fulfil a debt of gratitude. It's perfectly possible, and in my experience it's actually more common, that such debts are paid with grudging obedience. An obvious possibility of this position is that often we're still doing things we don't really want to do. And it's here that I have my problem.
Virtually all the images of the genuine Christian life I find in the bible have the ring, the colour, the sound of joy about them. People are coming and laying down their lives for each other and the world and they are doing it with a smile. How is that possible? It's certainly not possible if the only reason we're doing it is a debt of gratitude. We actually have to want to do the things we do, no, more than that, rejoice at the chance to do them, in at least one case it's a matter of 'rejoicing for the chance to suffer for the sake of the name...' This doesn't sound anything like paying off a debt to me.
I suspect the heart of the problem lies in the attempt to encourage good works without reference to genuine, transforming, regeneration.
Is it not the case that when someone knows God they receive the Holy Spirit? Is it not further the case that a significant part of the work of the Holy Spirit in people is to make them new? He gives new hearts, he renews our minds, he disposes of the old and brings the new such that wherever the Christian is: there is new Creation (2Cor5.17).
On the issue of good sacrificial obedient works, what he gives is a new desire to see and do New Creation things.
Why do Christians do good works? I think the New Testament answer, is that we do them because we have a new nature and long to see them done.
Before we were renewed in our minds we welcomed people and were hospitable because we were thankful to Jesus and knew it was the right thing to do, there's little genuine joy there. As our hearts are renewed we begin to treasure people, we love them more, we delight to see them happy, we long to see them restored. Gradually the good works cease to be motivated by debt, and become what we genuinely wish for.
Before we were renewed in our hearts we forgave each other because we lived in fear of the reciprocal arrangement in the Lord's prayer and because someone had told us that until we forgive others we are held captive to our own unforgiveness. While both reasons are true, they are not the genuine motivations of the Christian life. As our hearts change, we begin to long for whole and healthy relationships, we cease to care so much for our own standing and appearance, we start to value restored relationships more than our own wounded pride, and so asking for forgiveness and extending it becomes a joy because we are seeking something we delight in: relationship.
Why do we do good works? It's not because we think they will get us anything particularly, either in the realm of salvation, or in the parallel realm of lifestyle. We do them because our renewed natures long for them, long to see them, be part of them and see the world healed by them.
This is the only way that good works will be a joy, and the only way that we can ever rejoice for the chance to suffer.
May God restore and make new his people, so we can stop arguing about why we do good works and simply get on with joy and do them.
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Bulley's blog: An Atheist’s Praise of Evangelism in Africa
It's very postmodern to recirculate material. Here's an old Post from Michael Bull's blog, where he quotes Brian McLaren, who in turn quotes Matthew Parris. Fun to make the world go round. But the Gospel is the power of God to make things new. And we do well to remember that.
"Matthew Parris is a self-confessed atheist, but he writes with extraordinary candor and insight about the role of faith in social transformation in a recent Times article. He explains,
Now a confirmed atheist, I’ve become convinced of the enormous contribution that Christian evangelism makes in Africa: sharply distinct from the work of secular NGOs, government projects and international aid efforts. These alone will not do. Education and training alone will not do. In Africa Christianity changes people’s hearts. It brings a spiritual transformation. The rebirth is real. The change is good.
He used to say, “… if faith was needed to motivate missionaries to help, then, fine: but what counted was the help, not the faith.” But now he believes otherwise. Reflecting on his experiences with Africans over 45-plus years, he confesses,
Far from having cowed or confined its converts, their faith appeared to have liberated and relaxed them. There was a liveliness, a curiosity, an engagement with the world — a directness in their dealings with others — that seemed to be missing in traditional African life. They stood tall.
There was
… something in their eyes, the way they approached you direct, man-to-man, without looking down or away. They had not become more deferential towards strangers — in some ways less so — but more open…. What they were was … influenced by a conception of man’s place in the Universe that Christianity had taught.
He explains,
There’s long been a fashion among Western academic sociologists for placing tribal value systems within a ring fence, beyond critiques founded in our own culture: “theirs” and therefore best for “them”; authentic and of intrinsically equal worth to ours.
I don’t follow this. I observe that tribal belief is no more peaceable than ours; and that it suppresses individuality. People think collectively; first in terms of the community, extended family and tribe. This rural-traditional mindset feeds into the “big man” and gangster politics of the African city: the exaggerated respect for a swaggering leader, and the (literal) inability to understand the whole idea of loyal opposition.
Anxiety — fear of evil spirits, of ancestors, of nature and the wild, of a tribal hierarchy, of quite everyday things — strikes deep into the whole structure of rural African thought. Every man has his place and, call it fear or respect, a great weight grinds down the individual spirit, stunting curiosity. People won’t take the initiative, won’t take things into their own hands or on their own shoulders.
Then he concludes,
Christianity … with its teaching of a direct, personal, two-way link between the individual and God, unmediated by the collective, and unsubordinate to any other human being, smashes straight through the philosphical/spiritual framework I’ve just described. It offers something to hold on to to those anxious to cast off a crushing tribal groupthink. That is why and how it liberates.
Those who want Africa to walk tall amid 21st-century global competition must not kid themselves that providing the material means or even the know-how that accompanies what we call development will make the change. A whole belief system must first be supplanted.
And I’m afraid it has to be supplanted by another. Removing Christian evangelism from the African equation may leave the continent at the mercy of a malign fusion of Nike, the witch doctor, the mobile phone and the machete.
In my book Everything Must Change, I use the term “framing story” for what Parris calls a “belief system” — giving us our sense of our place in the universe, liberating us from various forms of crushing tribal or geo-political groupthink. Parris is right: if you want to help people be liberated from a destructive belief system or framing story (and I believe certain versions of Christianity present some scary and unhelpful twists — all aren’t equally liberating because all aren’t equally true), you can’t simply eliminate it. You have to replace it with something better.
And, of course, what’s true for rural Africa is equally true for the urban West. Take away Jesus’ radically transforming good news of the kingdom of God and we may find ourselves at the mercy of a malign fusion of the military-industrial complex, the slick politician and televangelist, the carbon-based economy, and the nuclear bomb."
It’s just a pity that Parris (and to some extent McLaren) see the Bible as just a helpful story. And why is the Bible’s ‘think’ any better than the tribal ‘think’? On this one, the African Christians are a very long step ahead of the west. They hear it and they believe it.
Good observations all around. Thanks Mike.
Monday, September 20, 2010
An Unwarranted Certainty
We all want to be certain of our final destiny, we all want to be able to answer the question: "Where will you spend eternity?" with a resounding "With Jesus!" And it's entirely justified to want that. It's also possible to have that, but not perhaps as some seem to have it.
In our rush to have this certainty, many present the gospel as some sort of fix for our ailment of sin, which requires only a 'sinner's prayer' to then be certainly healed. The problem is that this isn't the gospel at all.
The gospel is that Jesus is Lord, demonstrated to be so by his resurrection from the dead. Who by his life, death and resurrection has dealt with our sin and thereby made peace between God and man such that God and man may once again know each other, and that for eternity. What this means is that those who accept Jesus as Lord and bow their knees to him, receive from him that peace with God. The problem is that there must be an acceptance of Jesus as Lord, and simply praying the sinner's prayer says very little about whether Jesus is Lord of your life.
Time and again the bible gives us ways to know whether we have genuinely accepted Jesus as Lord. 2Corinthians 13.5 calls us to test whether we are of Christ, the whole of 1 John is a 3 fold test as to what our lives will look like if Jesus is Lord of them.
Certainty about where we will spend eternity is something which the bible says comes from seeing our transformed life, not from some formulaic confession or prayer.
Let me caveat at this point that we will only be able to submit to Jesus as Lord if the Holy Spirit works in our hearts to grant us that repentance. So this is not something we can freely do, rather something God does in us, yet it is still something that happens in us which has visible quantifiable results, hence the tests in 1 John, Hebrews etc.
Let me leave you with a favourite passage from 'the life of God in the soul of Man by Henry Scougal:
"These are the highest perfections that either men or angels are capable of--the very foundation of heaven laid in the soul; and he who hath attained them, needs not desire to pry into the hidden rolls of God's decrees, or search the volumes of heaven to know what is determined about his everlasting condition; but he may find a copy of God's thoughts concerning him, written in his own breast. His love to God may give him assurance of God's favour to him; and those beginnings of happiness, which he feels in the conformity of the powers of his soul to the nature of God, and compliance with his will, are a sure pledge that his felicity shall be perfected, and continued to all eternity; and it is not without reason that one said, "I had rather see the real impressions of a God-like nature upon my own soul, than have a vision from heaven, or an angel sent to tell me that my name was enrolled in the book of life."
In our rush to have this certainty, many present the gospel as some sort of fix for our ailment of sin, which requires only a 'sinner's prayer' to then be certainly healed. The problem is that this isn't the gospel at all.
The gospel is that Jesus is Lord, demonstrated to be so by his resurrection from the dead. Who by his life, death and resurrection has dealt with our sin and thereby made peace between God and man such that God and man may once again know each other, and that for eternity. What this means is that those who accept Jesus as Lord and bow their knees to him, receive from him that peace with God. The problem is that there must be an acceptance of Jesus as Lord, and simply praying the sinner's prayer says very little about whether Jesus is Lord of your life.
Time and again the bible gives us ways to know whether we have genuinely accepted Jesus as Lord. 2Corinthians 13.5 calls us to test whether we are of Christ, the whole of 1 John is a 3 fold test as to what our lives will look like if Jesus is Lord of them.
Certainty about where we will spend eternity is something which the bible says comes from seeing our transformed life, not from some formulaic confession or prayer.
Let me caveat at this point that we will only be able to submit to Jesus as Lord if the Holy Spirit works in our hearts to grant us that repentance. So this is not something we can freely do, rather something God does in us, yet it is still something that happens in us which has visible quantifiable results, hence the tests in 1 John, Hebrews etc.
Let me leave you with a favourite passage from 'the life of God in the soul of Man by Henry Scougal:
"These are the highest perfections that either men or angels are capable of--the very foundation of heaven laid in the soul; and he who hath attained them, needs not desire to pry into the hidden rolls of God's decrees, or search the volumes of heaven to know what is determined about his everlasting condition; but he may find a copy of God's thoughts concerning him, written in his own breast. His love to God may give him assurance of God's favour to him; and those beginnings of happiness, which he feels in the conformity of the powers of his soul to the nature of God, and compliance with his will, are a sure pledge that his felicity shall be perfected, and continued to all eternity; and it is not without reason that one said, "I had rather see the real impressions of a God-like nature upon my own soul, than have a vision from heaven, or an angel sent to tell me that my name was enrolled in the book of life."
May God grant us such a changed life.
Monday, September 6, 2010
An Imperative, but Always Grace Dependent
A friend recently passed on a blog comment to me about the inter-relationship between what we know God has done for us and what we do in response. See the original comment here. The writer, Michael Bird, reflected that in our desire to hold Jesus and what he has done for us up as central, we have lost the fact that we actually have lives to live in response to his action. He certainly has a point, but how much of a point?
As 1Corinthians 6 puts it so well: "You are not your own; you were bought at a price. Therefore honor God with your body." Something has been done for us by God, and that means that we have responsibilities in this world in terms of our priorities and how we live. Yes, absolutely, let's not lose that imperative to holy lives of service. But is it the case that once God has saved us we are then on our own to live these lives of service? Is it the case that there is a clear division between looking to Jesus for our salvation, but then looking to ourselves for our sanctification and our transformed lives?
I suppose the question I am interested in here is one of 'how.' How do we give our lives in service? How do we change the way we think so as to bear the priorities of God?
If God is love, such that his every decision arises from the prism of his love, coloured and focussed by that love, then what or how will so fill our hearts with that love that we will think and act like him? And the answer to that question I think is to come back once again, to gaze on Jesus.
I am constantly struck by the statement of Paul in 2Timothy2 that the Lord's servant must labour in various ways: teach, gently instruct; to the end that people would repent and come to know God. It is fascinating that there is no direct causative link between the servant's labours and the repentance of the hearers. There is an intermediate agent which affects the change, and that agent is God. If it is the case in our labours to change others, do we really think it won't be the case in our labours to change ourselves?
God has saved us through the sacrificial work of his Son, we have been brought at a price, now serve God: Exhort yourself, challenge yourself, encourage yourself, but what will actually change your heart so that any good deeds you may do will arise out of a heart of love and not merely duty or guilt? What will make that change? It is God: God may perhaps grant you repentance leading to a knowledge of the truth.
So uphold the imperative to action by all means, know that you have been bought at a price and now you must labour in response to his work, but know that your labours will only spring from a right source, will only flow from a heart of love, as you more and more grasp the love of God in Jesus Christ and receive grace to change, grace that you cannot command or control, but receive only by faith.
As 1Corinthians 6 puts it so well: "You are not your own; you were bought at a price. Therefore honor God with your body." Something has been done for us by God, and that means that we have responsibilities in this world in terms of our priorities and how we live. Yes, absolutely, let's not lose that imperative to holy lives of service. But is it the case that once God has saved us we are then on our own to live these lives of service? Is it the case that there is a clear division between looking to Jesus for our salvation, but then looking to ourselves for our sanctification and our transformed lives?
I suppose the question I am interested in here is one of 'how.' How do we give our lives in service? How do we change the way we think so as to bear the priorities of God?
If God is love, such that his every decision arises from the prism of his love, coloured and focussed by that love, then what or how will so fill our hearts with that love that we will think and act like him? And the answer to that question I think is to come back once again, to gaze on Jesus.
I am constantly struck by the statement of Paul in 2Timothy2 that the Lord's servant must labour in various ways: teach, gently instruct; to the end that people would repent and come to know God. It is fascinating that there is no direct causative link between the servant's labours and the repentance of the hearers. There is an intermediate agent which affects the change, and that agent is God. If it is the case in our labours to change others, do we really think it won't be the case in our labours to change ourselves?
God has saved us through the sacrificial work of his Son, we have been brought at a price, now serve God: Exhort yourself, challenge yourself, encourage yourself, but what will actually change your heart so that any good deeds you may do will arise out of a heart of love and not merely duty or guilt? What will make that change? It is God: God may perhaps grant you repentance leading to a knowledge of the truth.
So uphold the imperative to action by all means, know that you have been bought at a price and now you must labour in response to his work, but know that your labours will only spring from a right source, will only flow from a heart of love, as you more and more grasp the love of God in Jesus Christ and receive grace to change, grace that you cannot command or control, but receive only by faith.
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
No Christian Supremacists
Sometimes I think there’s a strange idea floating around Christian circles that seems to long for Christians to be the dominant force in the world.
It’s a longing I understand: wouldn’t the world be such a lovely place if everyone understood how small they all were and stopped worrying about trying to make themselves big and got on with loving God and each other instead? And while I may answer a hearty yes, the parable of the sower in Matthew 13 is a biblical cold shower on any such dreams of Christian dominance.
The word is sown, and there are 4 responses to it, and of those 4 only one actually reaches its potential and bears in the world the richness the Christian life is intended to bear.
It seems to me that humanity can’t get over dreams of power. Every religious or political system humans seem to be a part of, at some point gets co-opted into their dreams of running the world their way, or having the world styled as they would style it, but God never seems to have that agenda.
In Matthew 13, Jesus has a chance to use his profound powers as a teacher to convince large numbers of people to get on board with his program, but instead he speaks in Parables with the express intention of not getting the clearest and best coverage for himself. Then further, when he explains how the Kingdom of God will actually operate he explains that it will always be a movement that springs from weakness, and works in and through weakness, using only the few.
Perhaps one day Christians will realise their profoundly distinct heritage of being the unique minority, and cherish that weakness, and love from that weakness, and not feel burdened to make this Kingdom of service into the empire of control human ambition longs for.
It’s a longing I understand: wouldn’t the world be such a lovely place if everyone understood how small they all were and stopped worrying about trying to make themselves big and got on with loving God and each other instead? And while I may answer a hearty yes, the parable of the sower in Matthew 13 is a biblical cold shower on any such dreams of Christian dominance.
The word is sown, and there are 4 responses to it, and of those 4 only one actually reaches its potential and bears in the world the richness the Christian life is intended to bear.
It seems to me that humanity can’t get over dreams of power. Every religious or political system humans seem to be a part of, at some point gets co-opted into their dreams of running the world their way, or having the world styled as they would style it, but God never seems to have that agenda.
In Matthew 13, Jesus has a chance to use his profound powers as a teacher to convince large numbers of people to get on board with his program, but instead he speaks in Parables with the express intention of not getting the clearest and best coverage for himself. Then further, when he explains how the Kingdom of God will actually operate he explains that it will always be a movement that springs from weakness, and works in and through weakness, using only the few.
Perhaps one day Christians will realise their profoundly distinct heritage of being the unique minority, and cherish that weakness, and love from that weakness, and not feel burdened to make this Kingdom of service into the empire of control human ambition longs for.
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Being Always Honest
Ever been in an argument, and got the sneaky suspicion that perhaps you might be wrong this time, but pride stopped you from admitting it and you continued the argument nonetheless?
I don’t think that’s a particularly uncommon situation. I’ve certainly done it a few times and been tempted to do it many times.
What is it in us that can be so stuck, whether on pride or anger or jealousy, that we’re prepared to wilfully reject something we know to be true, in order to maintain whatever it is we treasure. What is it in us that can overvalue something to such an extent that it no longer matters whether something is true or not?
It’s a problem the Pharisees had with Jesus. They could see what he was doing. It was obviously good and merciful, but their own pride and jealousy and fear led them to accuse him and eventually to have him crucified.
I always wonder to what extent we might do something similar these days.
There are lots of people in the world, many of whom we won’t agree with, who nevertheless do good things. Now our disagreement with them may be small, for example the difference between a Pentecostal church and a Conservative church, or it may be more significant, say the difference between a Muslim and a Christian or a Militant Environmentalist and a Christian.
My concern is to ensure that we don’t let those differences, lead us into places of fear or pride or jealousy such that we can’t admit to truth and goodness when we see it. If someone does a good thing, let’s praise them for doing a good thing, no matter who they are or what they stand for. If an Angry Lesbian Anti-Christian, Pro-Porn Greenie saves a tree, let’s praise her for saving the tree. If a wild Pentecostal church with an apparent obsession with wealth leads someone to love Jesus, let’s praise them for doing so.
A great challenge in this life it seems to me is to be able to see difference, acknowledge difference, but not let that colour our perception of good and evil, truth and falsity, and be brave enough and generous enough to say so.
May God give us wisdom and grace to do this.
I don’t think that’s a particularly uncommon situation. I’ve certainly done it a few times and been tempted to do it many times.
What is it in us that can be so stuck, whether on pride or anger or jealousy, that we’re prepared to wilfully reject something we know to be true, in order to maintain whatever it is we treasure. What is it in us that can overvalue something to such an extent that it no longer matters whether something is true or not?
It’s a problem the Pharisees had with Jesus. They could see what he was doing. It was obviously good and merciful, but their own pride and jealousy and fear led them to accuse him and eventually to have him crucified.
I always wonder to what extent we might do something similar these days.
There are lots of people in the world, many of whom we won’t agree with, who nevertheless do good things. Now our disagreement with them may be small, for example the difference between a Pentecostal church and a Conservative church, or it may be more significant, say the difference between a Muslim and a Christian or a Militant Environmentalist and a Christian.
My concern is to ensure that we don’t let those differences, lead us into places of fear or pride or jealousy such that we can’t admit to truth and goodness when we see it. If someone does a good thing, let’s praise them for doing a good thing, no matter who they are or what they stand for. If an Angry Lesbian Anti-Christian, Pro-Porn Greenie saves a tree, let’s praise her for saving the tree. If a wild Pentecostal church with an apparent obsession with wealth leads someone to love Jesus, let’s praise them for doing so.
A great challenge in this life it seems to me is to be able to see difference, acknowledge difference, but not let that colour our perception of good and evil, truth and falsity, and be brave enough and generous enough to say so.
May God give us wisdom and grace to do this.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
The Unique Christ
It's hard to deny that there is evil in the world. Any student of history, no matter how new to the discipline, cannot help but notice that humanity is capable of evil things. Humanity has done with clear conscienced creativity, things that later generations observe with horror. There are things done in the name of science, or productivity, or imperial ambition, or even individual recreation, that can only be described as evil.
The question we all face in light of this reality is: what do we do with the evil and brokenness in the world, and more pointedly, what do we do with the evil and brokenness in ourselves as individuals?
There have been two traditional ways of psychologically coping with the reality of evil. They are to either: 1. define away evil, characterise it as an illusion, or a lack of enlightenment, or a simple evolutionary process, and continue to live with it; or 2. to struggle with all your might to fix the evil, to heal it in your own heart and in the world around you.
These two approaches to evil have themselves two sad but inevitable consequences. The consequence of ignoring evil is that it remains and the world continues to groan under it, even if intellectually it can be rationalised as survival of the fittest, or ignored as an illusion. The consequence of working to fix evil, to conquer it, to so live that it is not present in our own lives, is unfortunately despair. The general problem of human evil is always too big for us to fix, and the specific problem of evil in our own hearts is too pernicious to be cured by our own labours, such that eventually honesty will lead the labourer to the realisation that they are helpless in the face of this problem, and thence to despair.
The unique thing about Christianity is that it chooses neither path in dealing with evil, and thus, alone among faith systems and philosophies, finds a way to live with evil that is at the same time both intellectually credible and existentially satisfying.
Christianity is intellectually credible because it recognises that evil is a problem. A holocaust, genocide in Rwanda, or Bosnia, or Cambodia, these things are evil, and to simply rationalise them as evolution, or ignore them as illusion is to do a profound disservice to those who suffered and to be, in my humble opinion, intellectually irresponsible with the fact of these atrocities.
But rather than then labour to the point of despair, Christianity avoids the opposing pole by finding in God both a love that grips us despite our own personal evil, and a power that took evil into itself on the cross and will return to cleanse the creation of the evil which presently plagues it.
Christianity finds in the love and sacrifice of God in Jesus, an approach to evil that can hold both the reality of evil and our helplessness in the face of evil, with honesty and without despair. Christianity allows us to live in the world without either despising it or accommodating it. Christ alone among the gods loves us in such a way that we are able to live... as ourselves... here.
The question we all face in light of this reality is: what do we do with the evil and brokenness in the world, and more pointedly, what do we do with the evil and brokenness in ourselves as individuals?
There have been two traditional ways of psychologically coping with the reality of evil. They are to either: 1. define away evil, characterise it as an illusion, or a lack of enlightenment, or a simple evolutionary process, and continue to live with it; or 2. to struggle with all your might to fix the evil, to heal it in your own heart and in the world around you.
These two approaches to evil have themselves two sad but inevitable consequences. The consequence of ignoring evil is that it remains and the world continues to groan under it, even if intellectually it can be rationalised as survival of the fittest, or ignored as an illusion. The consequence of working to fix evil, to conquer it, to so live that it is not present in our own lives, is unfortunately despair. The general problem of human evil is always too big for us to fix, and the specific problem of evil in our own hearts is too pernicious to be cured by our own labours, such that eventually honesty will lead the labourer to the realisation that they are helpless in the face of this problem, and thence to despair.
The unique thing about Christianity is that it chooses neither path in dealing with evil, and thus, alone among faith systems and philosophies, finds a way to live with evil that is at the same time both intellectually credible and existentially satisfying.
Christianity is intellectually credible because it recognises that evil is a problem. A holocaust, genocide in Rwanda, or Bosnia, or Cambodia, these things are evil, and to simply rationalise them as evolution, or ignore them as illusion is to do a profound disservice to those who suffered and to be, in my humble opinion, intellectually irresponsible with the fact of these atrocities.
But rather than then labour to the point of despair, Christianity avoids the opposing pole by finding in God both a love that grips us despite our own personal evil, and a power that took evil into itself on the cross and will return to cleanse the creation of the evil which presently plagues it.
Christianity finds in the love and sacrifice of God in Jesus, an approach to evil that can hold both the reality of evil and our helplessness in the face of evil, with honesty and without despair. Christianity allows us to live in the world without either despising it or accommodating it. Christ alone among the gods loves us in such a way that we are able to live... as ourselves... here.
Sunday, August 1, 2010
Making All things New
What is it all about? Why get up in the morning I suppose? And that's a question we all have to answer sooner or later. I know too many people whose only honest answer to that question is: "to work to accumulate, so I can remain restless and continue to work to accumulate, so I can remain..."
Even among Christians I don't detect a great deal more hope. Some might trip out: "I'm just a stranger here, just passing through..." as if the reason for living is to endure long enough to stop living. My darker side could suggest an obvious short cut.
There must be more, surely?
And there is.
God never intended us to use this life to serve ourselves, so accumulation, or selfish recreation are out. Nor did he intend that we just endure this life, it's his gift and the best way to thank someone for a gift is to enjoy it.
The Human Project, the purpose of life, for every human being, whether they accept their responsibility or not, is to Glorify God. And this it turns out, we do by delighting in him, delighting in the good things he purposes and then labouring to see those good purposes realised as and when we may, in our own lives, societies and cultures.
Why get up in the morning? Because we have work to do. God has a world to make new, and he has called us to partner with him in that project. Repent of your old life and purposes and serve God in the making of a new world, filled with Him.
Even among Christians I don't detect a great deal more hope. Some might trip out: "I'm just a stranger here, just passing through..." as if the reason for living is to endure long enough to stop living. My darker side could suggest an obvious short cut.
There must be more, surely?
And there is.
God never intended us to use this life to serve ourselves, so accumulation, or selfish recreation are out. Nor did he intend that we just endure this life, it's his gift and the best way to thank someone for a gift is to enjoy it.
The Human Project, the purpose of life, for every human being, whether they accept their responsibility or not, is to Glorify God. And this it turns out, we do by delighting in him, delighting in the good things he purposes and then labouring to see those good purposes realised as and when we may, in our own lives, societies and cultures.
Why get up in the morning? Because we have work to do. God has a world to make new, and he has called us to partner with him in that project. Repent of your old life and purposes and serve God in the making of a new world, filled with Him.
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