Amen

Passage: 1 Thessalonians 5:1-24

The life of God’s people is defined by the experience of waiting. The patriarch of Israel, Abraham, waits most of his life for a son. His waiting is prompted by a promise God makes to Abraham at the beginning of their journey together:
I will make you into a great nation, and I will bless you; I will make your name great, and you will be a blessing. I will bless those who bless you, and whoever curses you I will curse; and all peoples on earth will be blessed through you. (Genesis 12:2-3)

Abraham and his wife, Sarah, eventually have a son. But they don’t get to see the rest of God’s promise fulfilled. This is also true of the Israelites whom God rescues from slavery in Egypt. Most of them spend 40 years trekking toward the Promised Land, only to die in the wilderness. The author of Hebrews points out that none of the notable characters of the Old Testament get to witness all the good things God says he has in store for them. He says,
All these people were still living by faith when they died. They did not receive the things promised; they only saw them and welcomed them from a distance, admitting that they were foreigners and strangers on earth. (Hebrews 11:13)

In one of his letters to the church in Thessalonica, the Apostle Paul encourages his friends to keep the faith. They are simply one generation in countless who have shaped their lives in anticipation of “the Day of the Lord” – the moment when God brings his redemption plan to complete fulfillment. Paul says the same things Jesus says to his disciples: “Watch; wait; and don’t settle. Don’t give in to the darkness of fleeting pleasure and momentary gratification. Hold out for the better thing God has in store. It will be here before you know it.”

I’m reminded of one Christmas Eve when I was a kid. My family was staying at my grandmother’s condo. I restlessly sat through an interminable evening of holiday dinner, hot chocolate and fruitcake and conversation. I finally got tucked into bed and thought I’d never go to sleep. After all, we wouldn’t open our stockings and gifts until Christmas morning. Would it ever get here? Even as I thought it my eyelids got heavy. I blinked. When I opened my eyes, I heard my mom and dad and grandma’s soft voices in the kitchen. The clink of dishes. Were they cleaning up? Then I smelled my grandma’s Christmas morning coffee cake. That’s strange – why would she be making it tonight? I got up and wandered out to the living room. There were the stockings. The table set for breakfast. It was Christmas morning. It had arrived before I knew it.

Paul and Jesus’ other apostles have their eye on the prize. They live restlessly, unwilling to settle for temporary fixes. Yet they also live with peace, knowing that their reunion with the Savior will be worth the wait. Hold out for better, says Paul. In all circumstances give thanks, because God is with you. Never stop praying. Never lose hope.

The conclusion of the Catechism addresses the conclusion of the Lord’s Prayer:
Q: What does that little word "Amen" express?
A: Amen means, “This is sure to be!” It is even more sure that God listens to my prayer, than that I really desire what I pray for.

The deepest desire of every human heart is Shalom – the restoration of all things. The Day of the Lord is the day that Christ returns and makes all things the way they were meant to be. Our longing for greater security; deeper intimacy; personal advancement; justice and peace – this is a longing for that which is broken in our world to be healed. God promises to bring ultimate healing. When we seal our prayer with the word Amen, we declare our conviction that if God said it, he’ll do it. Receive the blessing with which Paul concludes 1 Thessalonians:
May your whole spirit, soul and body be kept blameless at the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ. The one who calls you is faithful, and he will do it! Amen.

Your Enemy

Passage: 1 Peter 5:1-11

One of my favorite episodes of The Simpsons is entitled, “Homer’s Enemy”. In this episode Homer gets a new coworker at the power plant – a young man named Frank Grimes. Frank gets his job because he’s been featured in a local news story detailing the great adversity he has overcome over the course of his life. Inspired by the story, Mr. Burns, the owner of the power plant, insists that they hire him immediately. When Frank arrives at the plant he’s appalled by Homer’s lackadaisical approach to his job (nuclear safety inspector). The more time he spends with Homer, the more Frank is incensed that someone so incompetent could get everything he wants out of life. Frank gets madder and madder; and in spite of Homer’s attempts to make friends with him, Frank at a certain point declares, “I’m not your friend. I’m your enemy!” (“What, me, the most beloved man in all of Springfield?”)

It’s easier to make enemies than it is to make friends. All someone has to do is laugh at the wrong point in a conversation. Respond a little too tersely to an email. Look at us wrong in the grocery line. Cut us off on the expressway. Instant enemy. Sometimes we discover that we, like Homer, have unwittingly become someone else’s enemy. Just by being ourselves. We’re quick to find people to blame; quick to find people to hate. And quick to find ourselves at the receiving end of the same.

The authors of the New Testament point out that when we do this we’re making a huge mistake. No person should be the focus of our hatred. And no person should be held responsible for our unhappiness. We only have one enemy. It’s not Al Qaida, or the axis of evil, or the Democrats. Or Republicans. It’s Satan and his forces. In Ephesians 6 the Apostle Paul says,
For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms. Therefore put on the full armor of God…

If we aren’t careful, we become pawns of the forces of evil. How? By targeting each other. By shunning and attacking other people – people who are equally enticed and enslaved by the forces pulling at us. God’s intent is to set all of us free from the power of sin and death. To free us from fear – which causes us to see enemies where none exist – and temptation – which causes us to take without regard for the damage done to others.

In its final Lord’s Day, the Catechism identifies the fact that on our own we can’t resist the weapons of our true enemy. The fear he breeds and the temptation he wields strike us where we are weakest. So we appeal to God. He fortifies us against temptation by promising to give us what we really need. And he braces us against fear by promising to preserve our life forever. Protected by God’s armor, we remain vigilant and prepared for the enemy’s attacks. And we remain open and vulnerable to each other, recognizing in everyone a potential ally, friend, and family member in Christ.

Dependents

Passage: Hosea 2:8-23

Hosea is one of those books in which God comes across as a bit unreasonable. At the very beginning of the book, God commands his prophet, Hosea, to marry a "promiscuous woman." Why, pray tell? So that Hosea's marriage can be a living metaphor for God's relationship with his people. Hosea complies, marrying Gomer, a woman who proves to be perennially unfaithful. Hosea provides for Gomer; loves her; and takes her back every time. He even buys her back when she sells herself into slavery. "How does it feel," says God, "to be married to someone; to pour yourself out for them; to give them everything they need, only to have them reject you? Only to have them say, 'I don't need you.'" This, says God, is what my people do to me again and again.

Not so sure? To what extent do you think of yourself as independent? Self-sufficient? How often do you ask God to give you the basic necessities of life - or thank him for them? God says to us, "Whether you admit it or not, you've gotten everything from me. I've given you most of what you have without you even having asked for it first!" God says, "I've been nothing but faithful to you. And yet again and again you attribute my blessings to someone else!"

God's relationship with us is one of mercy. God in his mercy seeks us out. Buys us back. Gives us everything we need for body and soul. What does God ask in return? Gratitude. Generosity. The admission that we are what we are: dependents. Thank God that he's allowed us to depend on him, body and soul, in life and in death.

Programming

Passage: Matthew 18:1-9

In Matthew 18 Jesus adds to his long list of cryptic teachings, “Unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the Kingdom of Heaven.” That’d be great advice if nothing ever had to get done in the Kingdom of Heaven. If all anyone had to do was run around and play and have fun, and no one had to eat a properly cooked meal, or run a business, or teach anyone anything. Right?

Those of us who are engaged in the work of the Kingdom know how important it is to be educated. Have business savvy. Know how to fix stuff. Get stuff done.

Here’s the problem. Those of us who know how to get stuff done learned our skills within a broken system. We learned in an environment that taught us to be self-sufficient and hard. We carry into the Kingdom the baggage of a world that has made us cynical and selfish. As we try to engage the work and life of the Kingdom our programming keeps getting in the way. We rank ourselves according to attractiveness, success, and goodness. We impose rules about whose opinion matters and whose gifts are valuable. And before you know it, what we think is the Kingdom of Heaven turns out to be just another broken-down kingdom of our own making.

Jesus says, “If you want to be part of my Kingdom, leave your programming at the door. You don’t have to build it or run it. It was working fine before you got here. Empty your hands and your pockets; drop your bags. Then come on in.” The Kingdom is huge, but the door leading in is really small. Only big enough to let in really little people. People unencumbered by big egos and big baggage. Entering the Kingdom of Heaven is a matter of going back to the beginning. Rediscovering innocence and simplicity. Being relieved of your guile and your savvy and your shame. Starting fresh. Reprogramming.

It's a Work in Progress

Passage: Matthew 13:24-52

In this chapter Matthew throws out seven different metaphors that Jesus uses to talk about the Kingdom of Heaven. In short order, Jesus says the Kingdom is like:
• A good field suffused with weeds
• A mustard seed
• Yeast mixed into dough
• Treasure buried in a field
• A rare pearl
• A net full of fish
• A mixture of old treasures and new
Elsewhere Jesus says, “The Kingdom of heaven is near!” and, “The Day of the Lord has come!” Jesus’ words have produced great confusion about the arrival of God’s Kingdom. Is it coming? Or is it already here?

When we utter the Lord’s Prayer, we make the request, “Your Kingdom come…” This implies that the Kingdom hasn’t yet arrived. And yet Jesus’ parables suggest that the stuff of the Kingdom is already in effect. The seeds have been planted. The crop is poking its way through the ground. The yeast is working its way through the dough. The treasure is there to be found, if you just know where to look. The net is closing in around the fish.
When we look at the world, all we see is a vacant lot. A garden choked with bindweed. A table full of junk at a flea market. We can’t imagine that the fallow ground will bear fruit. That order will be restored to that neglected garden. That somewhere in that pile junk is something of immeasurable worth.

Yet this is the stuff Jesus invites us to look for. It’s already there. The Kingdom is germinating; look for the signs. The Kingdom is waiting; search for it. Jesus’ teaching about the Kingdom flies in the face of logic or intuition, which tell us, “Things are getting worse; this city is beyond repair; this world is too messed up for anyone to fix it; it’s hopeless.”

It’s not hopeless. We are citizens of a Kingdom that is under construction. We are investing in a work in progress. Jesus commands us not to write it off. Not to write off a world in which God is at work. Not to write off a person in whose heart God has planted the seeds of redemption. Jesus tells us: The Kingdom is there. And there. And there! Look for it. Dig for it. Sacrifice for it. Wait for it.

The Request Behind Every Other Request

Passage: Psalm 145

In its clause-by-clause breakdown of the Lord’s Prayer, the Heidelberg Catechism regards the phrase “Hallowed be your name” not as a statement but as a request. “What,” ask the authors of the Catechism, “does this first request mean?” When we utter the prayer, therefore, we’re not making an objective observation about who God is. We’re asking God to do something very specific in our lives and in our world. We’re asking that, above all else, God’s name would be hallowed. Revered. Recognized as holy. Glorified.

This has radical implications for whatever else we add to our prayers. If our goal, in prayer and in life, is God’s glory, then we pray and live accordingly. Our requests, for ourselves and our world, align themselves with this predominant value. Where our first inclination might be to ask, “Heal my illness,” we might instead find ourselves praying, “In sickness or health, be glorified in me.” Where we might be tempted to pray, “Let my kid’s team win this playoff,” instead we may ask, “May my child’s conduct point others to you and your greatness.” If we recognize rightly that the purpose of our lives is to reveal to heaven and earth the greatness of our Creator and Lord, our values change. Our desires change. Our wills realign according to the very will of God.

Psalm 145 is a declaration of the glory of God. In it the Psalmist states, “Great is the LORD and most worthy of praise; his greatness no one can fathom.” He goes on to describe all the great things God is and does. God is gracious and compassionate, slow to anger and abundant in love. God is trustworthy in his promises, and faithful. God is near to those who call on him. God provides sustenance for life. God saves those who seek refuge in him. God gives his children the desires of their hearts.
The Psalmist adds this:
All your works praise you, LORD; your faithful people extol you. They tell of the glory of your kingdom and speak of your might, so that all people may know of your mighty acts and the glorious splendor of your kingdom.

If we truly know God, we can’t help but be enthralled by God. In turn we’ll talk about God in ways that compel others to seek him out. And we’ll live our lives in such a way that those who encounter us will catch glimpses not of our glory, but the glory of our Creator. As God’s faithful people, this is our greatest ambition. Every other hope and desire falls into place beneath it. That in our every act and experience God would make himself known. In our prayers, every other request is simply a variation on this one: Hallowed be your name. In my work, hallowed be your name. In my marriage, hallowed be your name. In my health, hallowed be your name. In my rest, hallowed be your name. In every facet of my day; my performance; my life; make yourself known to me and the world around me. Hallowed be your name.

Father

Passage: Lord's Day 46

The term “Father” has so many connotations. Fathers are providers and comforters. They are protectors and authorities. They are disciplinarians.
“Father” also comes with baggage. Human fathers that were abusive or absent leave cracks in the lenses of our souls through which it’s difficult to render a pure image of what a father should be.

With all this in mind, Jesus deliberately refers to God as “Father”, and invites his disciples to do the same. “When you appeal to God”, he says, “You’re appealing to my Father. But from now on you’re also appealing to yours.” Jesus ushers humanity into a new way of thinking about “father”, and a new way of relating to God.

In his invitation Jesus identifies God as being everything that an earthly father should be - and more. God is provider: he knows what you need and is willing and able to give it. God is comforter: he receives you in your brokenness and welcomes you with open arms. God is protector: he promises that not a hair can fall from your head without his permission. God is authority: he knows his design for Creation and his design for your life; he offers guidance that is trustworthy and true. God is disciplinarian: God interrupts us when we’re on a path that will end in long-term harm and withholds those gifts that threaten to supplant him in our hearts. God is always with us and always for us.

There’s an added dimension: God is our Father in Heaven. God inhabits the space beyond time and space. His perspective is comprehensive and eternal, and his reach is unbounded. There is no limit to the knowledge, wisdom, and resources at God’s disposal. When God promises to guide you in the way everlasting and provide everything you need for body and soul, God is able to follow through like no one else. Trust Jesus’ invitation. And trust the Father into whose family you’ve been irrevocably adopted. He will never let you down.

Why Bother?

Passage: Matthew 6:5-15

There are instances in which my Reformed Theology and Reformed practice seem to be at odds. Prayer presents many such instances. I believe that God’s plans for me and my world have been set in place since the beginning of time. I do not believe I have the power to change God’s plans or change God’s mind. And yet I persistently ask God to do stuff on my behalf – stuff I have no idea fits into his plan or not.
I’ve had conversations in which people have said, “I’ve been praying for days that my team wins the series.” I wonder if anyone on the opponents’ side is praying the same prayer. You could wonder the same about nations on one side or other of a war. I’ve heard Christians say, “God hasn’t healed you because you haven’t prayed hard enough.” Make a little more noise, and God’ll hear you.
I’ve also spoken with people who have said, “I can’t bother God with this - it's too small. I can't ask God for this - it’s too selfish.”
Are the above perspectives wrong? If so, how? And how do we know?

In order to know whether to pray, and how, it helps to understand the purpose of prayer. We tend to think that prayer is a way of getting things done. We pray to help God focus his efforts. We pray to do our part of God’s work. We pray to get what we want. When we think of prayer as a way of getting results – either for someone else or for ourselves – we get it wrong. We don’t change God’s mind when we pray. And we don’t curry extra favor from God the more regularly and passionately and eloquently we pray. When Jesus teaches about prayer, he actually says, “Less is more!” In his instruction Jesus also betrays what prayer’s really about. It’s not about results; it’s about relationship. Jesus says, “Call God ‘Father’.” He’s not your boss. He’s not the government. He’s not Santa Claus. God is one who has immeasurable compassion and regard for you. God is already listening.

And God wants what’s best – for you and your world. God knows his plans for you. Yet God welcomes a conversation. So Jesus invites us: “Whatever’s on your heart, bring it to God.” Talk to God when you need something. Talk to God when you don’t need anything. Don’t worry about the right words in the right order. There’s no magic way to get God to do what you want him to do. You don’t have that kind of power. But if you seek from God most important thing anyone can have – that is, an intimate relationship with God – he’ll grant it every time. It’s within the context of this relationship that you start to want what God wants – for you and your world. Why bother? Because God welcomes our company, and tells us that our prayers, big and small, are no bother at all.

Perfect

Passage: Psalm 19

The Catechism’s treatment of the Ten Commandments ends with a meditation on the relationship between Christians and God’s Law. The authors of the Catechism as the question that should be on all our lips:
No one in this life can obey the Ten Commandments perfectly: why then does God want them preached so pointedly?
Seriously. Why have we gone to such great lengths to study the Ten Commandments if we’re only going to fail at them anyway?
The Catechism gives two answers; I’d add a third. First, we turn and return to the Ten Commandments because they remind us of our deep need for Jesus Christ. We need to be reminded of God’s standard and our utter inability to meet it. So doing we acknowledge that we are the recipients of God’s love only by God’s great mercy. Second, we pursue God’s Law because we sincerely desire to live according to God’s will. We believe that God’s Spirit is continually restoring God’s image in us. As we become more and more the people God created us to be, we will be naturally inclined to live according to God’s good order.

Finally, we embrace God’s Law because we love God. The closer we are to God the more we delight in who God is and what God wants. This desire for the things of God is beautifully expressed by David, the “man after God’s own heart”, in Psalm 19. David says this about God’s Law:
The law of the LORD is perfect,
refreshing the soul.
The statutes of the LORD are trustworthy,
making wise the simple.
The precepts of the LORD are right,
giving joy to the heart.
The commands of the LORD are radiant,
giving light to the eyes.
The fear of the LORD is pure,
enduring forever.
The decrees of the LORD are firm,
and all of them are righteous.

When you love someone, you long to know their heart. God shows us his heart for the world and its inhabitants in the rules he gives his people. The more you love God, the more his rules make sense, and the more perfectly you want to live them.

Spin Doctors

Passage: Psalm 15; Lord’s Day 43

Psalm 15 captures what it means to be righteous. The psalm is attributed to David, who stands out in the Old Testament as “a man after God’s own heart.” Of course if you’re familiar with David’s story, you know he doesn’t always live up to the standard of righteousness outlined in his psalm. There are accounts of David using deception and dishonesty to get what he wants; accounts of David abusing his power and taking advantage of those more vulnerable than himself. It may be hard to take Psalm 15 seriously, knowing the ways its author failed to live up to his own standard.

The truth is, none of God’s people is able to live up to God’s standard of righteousness. In Romans 3:23 the Apostle Paul says, “…all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.” All of us who seek to live as followers of Jesus are to some extent hypocrites. Faced with this knowledge, we have two choices. We can acknowledge the gaps between the way we live and the way we know we should; or we can do our best to hide them. We can spin the truth to make ourselves seem, to ourselves and the world, more righteous than we are.

It’s remarkable that the predominant ethic of the righteous person described in Psalm 15 is honest speech. The righteous “speak the truth from their hearts; they cast no slurs; they refuse to slander.” What sets the righteous apart is integrity – that is, consistency between inner character and outward conduct. The actions and words of the righteous person do not serve the purpose of masking insecurity or compensating for inadequacy. They are expressions of the deep-rooted peace, generosity, and compassion that arise from a heart that is in tune with the heart of God. A person who has adopted the practice of honesty is far better positioned to become righteous than someone who hides his sins from himself and the world. And a person who is righteous – that is, connected to God and committed to God’s will – has no need for spin. That person has nothing to hide – from herself; from the world; from God.

It's Not Really Stealing...

Passage: Lord’s Day 42

In 2005 Melody and I bought our first home. It was a beautiful four-bedroom ranch with a walkout basement and a big back yard that faced a ravine. And we got a great deal on it. We got a great deal because the retired couple we were buying it from had already purchased a condo and could no longer afford double home payments. They’d lived in the house more than twenty years; had raised their kids, and a number of foster kids there. Poured sweat and tears and dollars into improving it. It was a great house. They took a big hit when they sold it to us. And I could see the evidence of that in their faces when we signed the paperwork. Stress; fatigue; maybe even a hint of resentment, that our realtors had negotiated a deal that cost them so much. I didn’t care – or didn’t let myself care. I was too excited about the house I’d just acquired.

In 2011 we sold the house. We’d moved out of the house in December, 2008. It was a bad season for selling a house. And it was a bad year for selling a house in Michigan. Actually, it was the first of three bad years for selling a house in Michigan. This spring, after two years of double payments, two different renters, two basement floods and an Amityville-style bee invasion, a buyer came along. The buyer’s realtor negotiated a great deal for his clients. Melody and I just wanted to be done with the house. We signed off on a deal that cost us. And I remembered the couple we bought the house from. I remembered not thinking much about their mixed feelings signing their property over to us. The way they’d signed their money into our pockets because they had to sell. It felt different being on the other side of the deal.

Lord’s Day 42 of the Heidelberg Catechism explains God’s prohibition against stealing. Most church people are innocent of out-and-out theft, and so assume the eighth commandment doesn’t apply to us. Lord’s Day 42 doesn’t let us off the hook. The authors of the Catechism identify not only the act of taking that which doesn’t belong to us, but any act driven by the desire to capitalize on someone else’s loss. Fraudulent merchandising; excessive interest; greed. They conclude with this question and answer:
Q. What does God require of you in this commandment?
A. That I do whatever I can for my neighbor's good, that I treat others as I would like them to treat me, and that I work faithfully so that I may share with those in need.

The instinct that leads us to prioritize our financial needs over someone else’s is mistrust. Mistrust in God’s persistent promise to provide. The Bible contains far more references to greed and the idolatry of money than any other sin. And here’s why: we’re all guilty of it. When it comes to money and property few of us can honestly say we want for our neighbors that which we want for ourselves. When you resent your neighbor's brand-new car or your sister’s brand-new house or your friend’s brand-new job. When you can’t believe the steal of a deal you got on that piece of property the seller “just had to unload.” When you refuse to give to someone in need because “times are tight.” Each of these is an instance in which we choose self over neighbor. Each is an example of greed. And each expresses a fundamental mistrust in God’s generosity. We insist that God take care of us; we love it when God is generous to us. And we mistakenly think God should be more generous to us than the guy next to us. Not only does God challenge each of us to recognize that we are neither more important or entitled than anyone else. God also insists that his children adopt the family ethic. If you've benefited from God's generosity, pass it on. If you withhold it, who are you to expect more?

Let's Talk About Sex

Passage: Leviticus 18

In Leviticus 18, God presents his people with boundaries. Leviticus 18 is a list of prohibited kinds of sexual relationship. The list makes sense – it’s a set of prohibitions that are generally agreed upon even within our culture. But there’s a subtext to the list, presented in the very first prohibition, that introduces an ethic that we’re quick to overlook: You must not do as they do in Egypt, where you used to live, and you must not do as they do in the land of Canaan, where I am bringing you. Do not follow their practices.

We don’t have too much difficulty eschewing the unusual or obscene acts detailed in Leviticus 18. What is difficult for God’s people today is adhering to a set of sexual ethics that is distinct from those of the culture in which we’re immersed.

A number of forms of sexual expression that are considered normal throughout our culture were identified as aberrant and forbidden for the people of God in the Old Testament. Homosexuality is one, and it gets an undue amount of press within evangelical circles. The church is tragically silent on sexual sins that are a much bigger problem for a far greater percentage of Christians. One is sexual intimacy before or outside of marriage. Another is the use of fantasy as a substitute for intimacy within marriage. For men this often takes the form of pornography, or sexually explicit imagery in magazines, TV shows, and movies. For women it can take the form of literature, media, or online relationships that may not seem overtly sexual, but offer an imagined intimacy that falls outside of the work and obligation of a real relationship.

At the heart of God’s prohibitions about sex is an exhortation to reserve sex for the purpose it was intended to serve: to deepen the intimate connection between a man and woman who have committed their lives to each other.
This sounds prudish – old-fashioned and confining. In some ways it is. Sex has the potential to be very pleasurable. And the pleasure of sex is a secondary benefit to its primary purpose. When treated primarily as means of pleasure, sex becomes something it wasn’t meant to be. And it does damage. It divides married couples. It produces relationships in which one or both parties are used or degraded. It diminishes people’s capacities to form and maintain lasting commitments. And it compounds the sinful tendency to see the world through the lens of one’s own desires and needs, whatever the cost to someone else.

God gave people the gift of making certain essential physical acts pleasurable. Each pleasurable act serves a greater purpose than pleasure itself. Sex is no exception. The primary purpose of sex is not just “for procreation only.” It’s intimacy. In the right context, sex both expresses and intensifies the connection between two people. But the right context is a committed, lifelong relationship in which both partners give, sacrifice, and do the hard work of making a life together. Within God’s design, there’s no such thing as “no strings attached” sex. It comes at a cost. Sex is costly whether you enjoy it within or outside of the context of marriage. God demands that we enjoy sex in such a way that we embrace the full cost: that is, responsibility to, and for, the person we’ve partnered with for life.

What we rarely talk about when we talk about sex and the Christian life is that sex itself is a temporary substitute. God in his grace gives us the possibility of intimacy here and now that is like a preview of the intimacy we’ll know in eternity. But our intimate union in eternity will not be with the husband or wife we’ve enjoyed on earth. It will be with Jesus Christ, our Lord and Savior. It will also be with all those people who have entered glory through him. Our union in glory will not be sexual. But it will be a kind of soul connection that is only approximated by the closest marriages on earth. Marriage is one of the predominant metaphors the Bible gives for our relationship with God. Like marriage, God’s love for us is self-giving, self-sacrificial, and deeply intimate. God knows us through and through. God knows our flaws and weaknesses, the areas of our deepest hurt and shame and fear. And God embraces us with open arms. It costs God to love us this way. God sticks with us through the long haul, and continually opens his heart to us in spite of the ways we disappoint him. In the best marriages you can catch a glimpse of this kind of love. But the union of marital intimacy is only a shadow of the intimacy we’ll know in eternity.

Finally, it’s the promise of this perfect intimacy that gives us the patience and strength to live with any unrequited need we have now. For those who aren’t married and can’t imagine how to live without sex, God promises a future intimacy that’s far more complete. For those who are frustrated or unfulfilled within their marriages, God promises an ultimate fulfillment that will make up for any disappointment. It is on the basis of his promises that God demands that his people not give in to the instincts and pleasures and practices indulged by their neighbors. If you trust God’s promises, then you can wait; you can abstain; you can persevere. If you don’t trust God’s promises, then you’re on your own. Live however you want. But don’t keep coming back to God demanding the benefits of a relationship for which you’ve been unwilling to face the cost.

Closing the Door to Mercy

Passage: Heidelberg Catechism Lord’s Day 40

In the Battlestar Galactica episode “Collaborators,” the crew of the Galactica have reconvened after escaping the evil Cylons. During the Cylon occupation, a number of the humans sided with the Cylons as members of a secret police force. These collaborators served the cause of their enemies, believing this to be a better alternative than living with increasing poverty and the constant threat of death. Paradoxically, now that the humans have shaken off the bonds of their oppressors, the collaborators face precisely the fate they thought they’d escaped. A small group of the surviving humans has taken it upon themselves to track down their betrayers. One by one they bring them in to be executed. As the number of executions rises, members of the group begin to have second thoughts. Their appetite for revenge has been satisfied, and they’re tired of killing. Their leader faces them and says, “Don’t forget what we’re doing here. This isn’t about revenge. It’s about justice!”

Discussions about the Sixth Commandment (“You shall not murder/kill another human being”) inevitably lead to questions of justice. What about people who have committed murder? What about someone who’s about to kill me? What about someone who is a danger to society and shows no remorse? What about political enemies? Justice needs to be served! These challenges become more personal when we look at the ways the sixth commandment has been parsed out by other commentators. The Heidelberg Catechism argues
“By forbidding murder God teaches us that he hates the root of murder: envy, hatred, anger, vindictiveness. In God's sight all such are murder.”
This in turn is based on Jesus’ own teaching:
“You have heard that it was said to the people long ago, ‘Do not murder, and anyone who murders will be subject to judgment.’ But I tell you that anyone who is angry with his brother will be subject to judgment. Again, anyone who says to his brother, ‘Raca,’ is answerable to the Sanhedrin. But anyone who says, ‘You fool!’ will be in danger of the fire of hell.” (Matthew 5:21-22)
As with each of his commands, God’s concern in the sixth is not only human action, but human attitude. What is your posture toward your neighbor – that is, any fellow human being? Is it hatred, or mercy? Do you want for them that which you want for yourself? "But wait a minute," you say. "What about justice? That person who hurt me deserves to hurt. That person whose stupidity ruined my plans deserves to suffer. That person who has threatened my way of life deserves punishment."

The question to ask is this: what treatment have you received at the hands of God? Justice or mercy? Jesus demands of us that which he has given to us. Whether you’re tempted to kill with your hands, or your words, or simply your thoughts, Jesus says, “Justice and vengeance are mine. Your job is to love.” This is one of the ways in which the life of a disciple is immensely costly – it may, in fact, cost you your life. Most of the situations in which we’d respond with lethal force are ones in which we’d be, in some way, protecting our own lives. Jesus actually invites his disciple to do what he did – that is, give up one's own life rather than take someone else’s. You may be called to give up your life all at once. Or you may be required to do it little by little - one word of forgiveness; one gracious thought; one merciful act at a time.

Honor Who?

Passage: Deuteronomy 21:18-21

Of all the Commandments, the fifth is the one people seem to take the most immediate exception to. It seems ironic, given that the fifth commandment deals with subject matter that is, for the most part, fairly mundane. “Honor your father and mother so that you may live long in the land the LORD your God is giving you.” Honor your father and mother. Wait a minute, we’re tempted to say. What if your father or mother abused you? What if they rejected you? What if they were just plain unreasonable and out of touch and not that nice to you? I’ve heard sermons that presented all kinds of qualifiers and provisos. Exceptions to the rule. It’s easy to find excuses not to follow the fifth commandment. But, says God, we do so at great cost to ourselves.

In order to follow this commandment, we need to understand it. The first thing to note is its placement. It stands as the bridge between the two sections of the Law – the first, which expands on the command to love God above all else; and the second, which is summarized in the command to love others as you love yourself. Love God; love other people. Right in between is the command to honor your parents. This isn’t a coincidence.

When it comes to loving other people, parents are the ones we have no control over. We don’t choose the parents who give us birth. Accepting the parents we’ve been given is an essential aspect of accepting God’s sovereign choice in our lives. To say, “I refuse to accept my parents’ authority” is to say to God, “I refuse to accept what you’ve chosen for me.” When we refuse to love and honor our parents, we are essentially telling God that we’re only willing to love and honor the people we have chosen; the ones we like. God doesn’t give us this option. Loving and honoring parents is practice for loving and honoring all the people God will bring into our lives by his sovereign choice.

On a more practical basis, God gives us parents to train us in the practice of submission. Whether we appreciate it or not, our parents are people who have gone before us. They provide rules and boundaries based on experience and the wisdom of years. In many respects they know better. And we’re commanded by God to take their word for it. As we become adults we no longer answer directly to our parents. We have our own wisdom and experience on which to draw. But we are still commanded to defer to one whose wisdom and authority far exceeds ours. There never comes a point at which we move out from under God’s authority. And if, early in our lives, we’ve adopted the habit of bucking the authority of our parents, there’s no way we’ll be capable of submitting to the authority of God, or the other human authorities God places over us. This, says God, has deadly consequences. It is for this reason that, as he’s giving the Law to the Israelites, God implements such harsh consequences for children who disrespect their parents. He says, “Kids who disrespect their moms and dads grow up to be kids who disrespect me!”

Hard questions ensue, however. “What about parents who abuse their kids? Who abuse their God-give authority or neglect the children God’s entrusted to them? Aren’t some people excused from the fifth commandment?” The short answer is “no”, and here’s why: Honoring one’s parents doesn’t always mean obeying them. If a parent debases him or herself by perpetrating abuse, sometimes the most honoring thing is to stop the abuse. To get away from the abuser; to set in motion a sequence of events that will, once and for all interrupt the behavior; and to hold the abuser to account. In fact, the most loving thing you can do for a person is aid them in the process of becoming more Christlike. This includes confronting un-Christlike behavior.

Another way of honoring one’s parents is becoming the best bearer of their image that you can be. Even absent or abusive parents have left their kids a genetic heritage. The stuff in each of us that’s good, admirable, and worthy of celebration is stuff we got from our moms and dads. Growing up embittered toward one’s parents, or resentful of what they did or didn’t do turns into blame which, in turn, becomes self-disabling thought and action. It’s all too easy to blame your parents for your problems. Doing so, however, guarantees that you won’t change things you need to change to become a healthier, better person. At the very least, honor your parents by taking responsibility for your own life, and letting the best qualities they gave you shine through. This, in turn, becomes the best way to honor the God that gave the command in the first place. And, true to God’s Word, if you honor your parents – regardless of what kind of parents you had – things will go well for you. It’s God’s promise.

Knowing When to Take a Break

Passage: Exodus 16:11-30

Of all the Ten Commandments, the one that’s probably the hardest for us to apply is the fourth: Honor the Sabbath and keep it holy. This is one of the commandments that had a clearer application during the pre-Christ era of God’s people. As a theocracy (that is, an entire society guided by the Word of God), the Israelites followed God’s command to “rest on the seventh day” as a group. They all refrained from commercial and vocational activity, rested, and worshiped in community. There weren’t questions about which day was “officially” the Sabbath. Everyone knew.

We have difficulty exercising Sabbath rest because we’re embedded in a culture that never rests. Many of us have vocations that require us to work, in some capacity, 7 days a week. Some of us work shifts, and don’t have the same consistent day off. Commercial activity plows forward every day, so none of us is forced to refrain from buying food, fuel, or other necessities on any given day. The boundaries around “work” and “rest” are fuzzy at best, so the question of how to refrain from work is a difficult one to answer.
If we intend to apply the fourth commandment, we have to start by exploring the “principle behind the precept.” Why did God institute a weekly day of rest and worship? And how did God teach his people about Sabbath rest?

The story of God feeding the Israelites in the wilderness provides some insight. God has delivered his people from the Egyptian army. But they have fled into the barren territory that lies between Egypt and Palestine. And they quickly realize that there’s little by way of food – not nearly enough to feed them all. In no time the Israelites are accusing God of delivering them from the frying pan only to deposit them in the fire. God’s response is to send two food sources: flocks of quail; and “manna” (which means, literally, “what is it?”). The latter is a starchy substance that appears on the ground and can be made into a kind of bread. And God gives specific instructions about how to gather the manna. He says, “Gather as much as you need for one day. What you’ll find is that no matter how much you’ve gathered, you’ll have enough for your family.” Some people attempt to gather twice as much as they think they’ll need, and save some for the next day. Surprisingly, the next morning it has gone bad. Apparently manna’s only good for a day. However, God goes on to say this: “On the sixth day, gather enough manna for two days. Save some for the seventh, because the seventh day is the Sabbath.” Sure enough, the next day there is no manna. The passage notes that those who tried earlier to hoard manna and had it go bad decide not to save manna on the sixth day. They end up being without on the Sabbath.

At first glance there seems something arbitrary or capricious about God’s action. Why wouldn’t the Israelites gather and save as much of the food source as they could? They were in the desert, after all. Who knew when their next meal would come from? And, having had the experience of having the stored manna go bad, why would they attempt to preserve it again? If manna spoils overnight one day, why wouldn’t it spoil overnight the next? These people are just using their common sense.

The lesson is this: when God gives you a command, you follow it. God teaches his people again and again to trust him. God promises to provide for his people. When they follow his commands, God provides without fail. It’s when they doubt God and go it alone that they miss out. In respect to the Sabbath, people invariably default to common sense. “It can’t really hurt to skip my day off this week.”; “I can’t afford not to work today.”; “All my competitors do business seven days a week; I have to keep up.” We can’t know all of God’s reasons for incorporating a weekly day off for rest and worship. There may be plenty of instances in which applying this rule doesn’t make sense to us. But the ultimate principle at work is trust. Do you trust God to provide for your needs no matter what? Do you trust that God loves you and has good reasons for every one of his commands? Do you trust that God will maintain control of your world even if you step away from the wheel for a day? And do you trust that God will come through, even when your common sense tells you there's no way? Honoring the Sabbath, as illustrated in the story of the manna, is about trusting God to provide on his own terms.

I Swear

Passage: Matthew 5:33-37

Lord’s Day 37 speaks to an issue we don’t think about often: the swearing of oaths. In our culture there are both formal (i.e., courtrooms) and informal (e.g., barroom tales and fish stories) settings in which we swear by something greater than ourselves. We do so to underscore the truth of our words. The Catechism points out that there are occasions in which it is acceptable to do so. However, for Christians the default should be to avoid swearing by anything.

According to the Catechism, it’s okay to swear by God’s name or by God’s Word “when the government demands it or necessity requires it.” In other words, if you are called to testify in court, you can put your hand on the Bible and swear to the truth of your testimony with a clear conscience. You haven’t violated God’s Law. There may be other circumstances under which you might say, “With God as my witness, what I’m saying is true.” Biblical precedent can be found in such places as Joshua 9:15 and Romans 1:9. Deuteronomy 6:13 says, “Take your oaths in the name of the LORD”. The underlying message is this: “If you have to take an oath, only do it in God’s name.”

However, Jesus himself prohibits taking any oath at all. In Matthew 5 he says, “Simply let your ‘yes’ be ‘yes’ and your ‘no’ be ‘no.’” There are two important reasons for this. The first is is that if you are one of his followers, you should always speak the truth. Your integrity and your track record should be all the evidence you need to convince anyone that you're telling the truth. No Christian should need to swear by anything because by nature we should all be truth-tellers. If the people you deal with are inclined to doubt you, you should ask yourself why.

The second reason Jesus prohibits taking an oath that invoking God’s name is such a serious act that the violation thereof becomes a violation not against the person you’re talking to but against God himself. An oath in God’s name is utterly binding, and can get you into a great deal of trouble. This is illustrated in two Old Testament examples: Joshua’s covenant with the Gibeonites in Joshua 9:1-21; and Jephthah’s oath in Judges 11. In both instances, people swear oaths before God that end up binding them to courses of action they later regret deeply (read both if you want to find out what happens). The preponderance of Scriptural evidence, including Jesus’ own words, lead to this conclusion: avoid swearing any kind of oath. If you are compelled to make an oath, do it only in God’s name. And if you do, be sure not to break it.

Honoring the Name

Passage: Leviticus 24:10-23

When my wife and I got married we committed to loving, honoring, and cherishing one another. One of the concrete expressions of this commitment we adopted was the practice of speaking about each other in a way that reflected our care and respect for each other. Honoring each other with our words. Over the course of our marriage this has taken multiple forms: speaking positively about each other to other people; refusing to air grievances we may have with each other with anyone else before we’ve first addressed them as a couple; refraining from sharing belittling stories or facts about each other publicly for the sake of making other people laugh. We have seen the ways these practices have strengthened our loyalty to each other and deepened our sense of connection. In refusing to misuse each others' names, we have experienced a degree of unity that would have been eroded had we been less careful to do so.

In the third commandment God demands that his people not misuse his name. God does so because he has done his people the tremendous honor of giving them a proper name by which to address him. “YHWH”, best pronounced “Yahweh” (not “Jehovah”, which is a misinterpretation of the Hebrew that should never be used), is the closest anyone in the ancient world gets to a first name for God. God’s gift of this personal term is tantamount to God offering his people a personal relationship. God does not belong to the anonymous, distant ranks of the false deities of Israel’s neighbors. He is real; he is present; he invites intimate communion.

God tells his people that if they misuse his name – by speaking casually about him as though behind his back; by invoking his name as a way of co-opting his power and authority; or by saying things about him that aren’t true – they will suffer deadly consequences. God underscores this by commanding the execution of a young man who curses God’s name.

Over time people have become casual about the language they use to address God. We no longer use the proper name God gave the Israelites. We simply say, “God”. This in turn has become a term that is used in a variety of settings that have very little to do with the God who reveals himself in the Bible. We’re so accustomed to the over- and misuse of this term that we barely react. After all, we’ve never seen lightning strike after someone says, “Oh my god!” Maybe it isn’t a big deal.

The reality is that misusing God’s name (whatever name you use to address the God of the Bible) is as deadly as it ever was. It’s just deadly in more gradual, less sensational way than we read about in the Old Testament. What we’re reminded of again and again is that salvation is given to us in the form of an intimate relationship with God. That this is a relationship that demands our commitment. And that our love and respect for God is something that must be protected and nurtured. To appeal to God with a word in one sentence and to turn and curse using the same word in the next says a great deal about how seriously you take God. To speak of God in a way that diminishes his majesty, glory and grace is to disregard how important God is not only to you, but to the world you live in. Over time, misusing God’s name will do to your relationship with him what telling jokes about your wife or husband will do to your marriage: chip away at it until there’s nothing left. The difference is that life without God is death.

Picture This

Passage: Lord’s Day 35

“Do you take the Bible as the literal word of God?” If you’ve ever been asked that question, you probably felt as though the right answer was “Yes”, and that if you didn’t say “Yes,” you were going to be in trouble. Great battles are fought within the church every day about whether or not we should take the Bible literally. The truth is, there isn’t a right answer to the question because it’s the wrong question. To say, “I take every word of the Bible literally” is to demonstrate utter ignorance about what the Bible really is. Within our tradition we believe the Bible is the Word of God. We believe that it is the clearest and most reliable source of God’s self-revelation. And as such, we understand that God uses human language to describe realities that are essentially indescribable.

The God of the Bible is a God of paradoxes. One of these paradoxes is that God wants us to understand him, yet tells us we can’t understand him. In fact, God discourages people from trying to make too much sense of him. Consider God’s prohibitions against attempting to make images of the divine. The second of the Ten Commandments reads,
You shall not make for yourself an image in the form of anything in heaven above or on the earth beneath or in the waters below. You shall not bow down to them or worship them; for I, the LORD your God, am a jealous God…
To be fair, this is a prohibition against making an image of anything you intend to worship. But there are two reasons why this rule applies specifically to making pictures of God. First, God is the one being in heaven and earth who not only deserves to be worshiped but must be worshiped. Any attempt to render an image of God is by definition an attempt to create an object of worship. Second, no human creation, no matter how majestic, can begin to compare to God himself. Therefore any attempt to picture God can do nothing but diminish and degrade the real thing.

How then are we supposed to relate to God? The Bible is full of language that describes God’s attributes and God’s actions. But the best any Biblical author can give us is analogies and metaphors. “God is like this…”; “God does this…”; “God has told us that he desires this…” Each phrase and each account gives us a snapshot of one small part of who God is and how God works. When we piece them together, we end up with a constellation of words, attributes, and actions that gives us a glimpse; a shadow; an afterimage of the one true God.

Does God have wings (Psalm 17)? Does God carry a rod and staff (Psalm 23)? Does God sit on a throne (Psalm 40)? Perhaps, but not in the literal way we think of any of these objects. It’s just that, given the limitations of our language and our imaginations, these are the best we can do. The closest any of us can get to a picture of God is the full witness of those who, throughout history, have caught glimpses of God in action. This is what we find recorded in the Bible. If you want to know God, start there. Read the whole thing. Accept that what we get is a vastly reduced and vastly incomplete picture of the majesty and glory of God. But be satisfied with what God has chosen to reveal about himself. For now we don’t need more; and for the future God promises an eternity in which to get to know him better.

Giving it up

Heidelberg Catechism Q & A 94
Q. What does the Lord require in the first commandment?
A. That I, not wanting to endanger my very salvation, avoid and shun all idolatry, magic, superstitious rites, and prayer to saints or to other creatures. That I sincerely acknowledge the only true God, trust him alone, look to him for every good thing humbly and patiently, love him, fear him, and honor him with all my heart. In short, that I give up anything rather than go against his will in any way.

People laugh when I tell them I’m an emotional eater. This is probably because I’m skinny. It may also be because the concept of the emotional eater is a little funny. If you’re not familiar with the expression, an “emotional eater” is someone who eats primarily to meet an emotional need rather than a physical need. I love food. I devote more mental energy than I should thinking about food. I have high expectations of the ways food will fulfill me as a human being. I’m disappointed when food doesn’t meet my expectations. At times I eat when I’m not even hungry. It’s all because I need food to do something more for me than what food was designed to do.

Everyone has something like this. An experience or relationship or object we expect to do for us something it wasn’t designed to do. Provide security; affirmation; identity; comfort. These are the things that become hang-ups; obsessions; addictions; unhealthy attachments. The provisional things from which we hope to derive something ultimate.

The Bible identifies these things as idols. As post-enlightenment, smart people, we think of idols as primitive religious objects. We therefore don’t think ourselves in any danger of committing that cardinal sin – idolatry. We have to think again. Idolatry is, in fact, allowing any person, place or thing to inhabit the space in our hearts only God should inhabit.

The Catechism challenges us to give up anything that pulls us out of line with God’s will. Immediately we ask, “How do I know what about my life contravenes God’s will?” Maybe a more appropriate question is, “What would I be unwilling to give up, should God ask it of me?” The reality is that most of the things we’d refuse to give up are things we won’t carry into eternity, anyway. What’s the thing in your life about which, should God say, “That or me?” you’d say, “No way!” What good thing has become your ultimate thing? That’s your idol. God offers to give you – in a purer, more abundant, and more lasting form – whatever you think your substitute is giving you. Paradoxically, if you seek the ultimate from God, you’ll experience greater satisfaction, less anxiety and far less disappointment in the temporal gifts he’s given you. Try it.

Repentance and Rest

Passage: Isaiah 30:15-22

Frank Abagnale Jr. began his life of crime as a teenager. His first con was using the credit card his dad gave him to buy items from local gas stations, then selling them back to gas station attendants for cash. Shortly thereafter he started writing checks on his bank’s overdraft, then opening accounts under false identities to continue writing bad checks. By the time he was 19, Abagnale had mastered the art of forging checks and developing new identities. He had successfully masqueraded as an airline pilot, an attending physician at a hospital, a teacher’s assistant at a university, and an attorney. Then he got caught. He was first imprisoned in Perpignan's House of Arrest in France, where he spent 6 months in a cell without light, toilet facilities, a bed or even clothing.

Abagnale’s exploits, and the consequences thereof, are depicted in the film Catch Me If You Can. Much of what you see in the film is a highly intelligent young man enjoying a fantastic adventure. But as Abagnale’s crimes become more serious, a degree of desperation becomes apparent. He has to tell more and more elaborate lies; he has to spend more and more time on the move. By the time he ends up imprisoned in France, he is worn out and broken down from running.

One of God’s repeated invitations to his people throughout their history is the invitation to stop running. To turn around. Like Frank Abagnale Jr., the children of Israel have abandoned the safe boundaries God established in favor of a life that initially seems more rewarding and much more exciting. What they don’t see is the danger in running away from God. The inevitable consequences of their actions. It’s not until they are imprisoned – literally – that they see the wisdom in living God’s way. In Isaiah 30 God forewarns his people. He says, “In repentance (literally, "turning" or "returning" in Hebrew) and rest is your salvation; in quietness and trust is your strength.” God says again and again, “Return to me. It doesn’t matter how far you’ve run. Just come back.”
God continues to say this to his children. It doesn’t matter how far you’ve run. Just come back. Repent; return; stop running and find rest.

Who's the Fool?

Passage: Psalm 14

The "fool" is a recurring character in a number of Shakespeare’s plays. In both his comedic and tragic works, the fool introduces an element of chaos, humor, and irony, and serves to provide insightful commentary into the lives of the characters and the plot of the play. As such, Shakespeare’s fools are never as they seem. They are often perceived by other characters as simple, unsophisticated, and menial. Only the audience sees the fool’s wisdom and transcendence of the entanglements of the other characters. The fools are never as they seem.

The same is true of the “fool” in Psalm 14. Here the psalmist talks about the kind of person who, by all appearances, is a great success. One who has acquired power and used it to his or her advantage; one who has amassed wealth; one who has outplayed his or her opponents in the game of life. According to the human authors of the Bible, folly and wisdom aren’t measured in intellectual achievement, political prowess, or economic excellence. Rather they are determined by one’s posture toward God. The fool, according to Psalm 14, is the one who denies, in faith and in life, that there is a God. Disbelief in God precipitates a host of self- and other-destructive behaviors. The psalmist identifies greed, violence, and the abuse of the poor, but also makes the blanket statement, “They are corrupt – their deeds are vile.” Nothing that emanates from an unbelieving heart has lasting, or saving, value.

What’s the alternative? Believing in God, and shaping one’s life accordingly. Faith in the one true God necessitates humility. It requires the attitude, “God is God, and I am not.” God demands the throne – over our world, and over our lives. True wisdom is accepting one’s limitations, weaknesses, and sins, and acknowledging one’s dependence on God. Wisdom is expressed in a life of devotion to God and accountability to God’s Law. This seems upside-down to us. It seems foolish. But who’s the real fool? According to the psalmist, it’s the one who ignores all of God’s overtures and insists on going it alone. No matter how smart, strong, or savvy you are, you can’t do for yourself what God promises to do for you. Don’t be a fool.

Gratitude

Passage: Lord’s Day 32; Romans 6:15-19

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows – Part 2 is currently in theaters. If you’ve seen Part 1, you know that it ends with the tragic death of a character named Dobby. Dobby is a house elf – a species of magical creature born and bred to serve as slaves. Dobby is introduced in the second installment of the Harry Potter corpus (Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets). At first he appears to be a nuisance, impeding Harry’s progress and getting him into trouble. Later it turns out that Dobby has in fact been repeatedly preventing Harry from falling into the hands of his enemies. Eventually, Harry sets Dobby free from a very abusive master. For this, Dobby commits his life to serving Harry. Ultimately, as we see in the last installment of the series, Dobby goes so far as to lay down his life for his friend. Whereas he had once slaved out of obligation and duty, Dobby becomes a slave to love. His service, and sacrifice, are expressions of his immense gratitude.

The Christian life is primarily a life of gratitude. Jesus Christ offers to save people from slavery – slavery to sin and death. Jesus’ invitation is to live a life of freedom. If you’ve been faced with slavery or certain death, the guarantee of freedom is life-altering. Every moment is a gift. You never forget the one who has afforded you this gift. And you never forget what you owe them.

The assumption of the Catechism is that the life of obedience to which we are called is not a life of obligation. We pursue the rigors and sacrifices of the Christian life not because we’re indebted, but because we’re grateful. Every moment is a gift – one which we savor with joy. Whether we’re celebrating or serving, gratitude colors everything we do. If we keep in mind that every act of self-discipline or service is enacted on behalf of our Savior, we will find surprising joy in everything we do. We “do good” not to earn our salvation, but because we have been saved.

The Keys of the Kingdom

Passage: Matthew 16:13-20

There’s a scene in the film Labyrinth in which the protagonist, a teenager named Sarah, has to pass through a heavy, locked gate to proceed on her mission. Her way is barred by a particularly cantankerous guard who insists, “No one may enter without my permission!” He makes a lot of noise, and holds his ground in spite of Sarah’s protestations. Finally, Sarah simply says, “Well, can I have your permission to enter?” He stops. Thinks for a minute. And says, “Well, I don’t see why not.” He opens the gate and lets her through.

In Matthew 16 Jesus suggests that the Kingdom of Heaven is locked. And he tells his disciples that they are the ones who hold the keys. Historically the church has taken Jesus’ words very seriously. We, the reasoning goes, are the gatekeepers of Heaven. We have the power to keep people out, or let them in.
The Catechism argues that we exercise this power in two ways: preaching the Gospel (“opening”) and exercising church discipline (“closing”). This is a tremendous amount of responsibility. And we run the risk of responding to the commission in one of two wrong ways: taking it too seriously; and not taking it seriously enough.

It’s easy for us to minimize the efficacy of our own presentations of the gospel. Especially if we’re not professional preachers or evangelists, we worry that we won’t articulate the good news in a convincing or compelling way. We conclude that we’re better off leaving the job to the experts; we end up neglecting the task entirely. The fact is God can use whatever we offer to change people’s hearts. We don’t even have to start with words. If we are shaped by the joy of belonging to God through Jesus Christ, our own lives will provide an excellent foray into conversations this life-changing relationship.
Alternatively, we can take our job too seriously. Thinking of ourselves as gatekeepers, we may assume our primary responsibility is to keep people out. If so, we’ll focus undo attention on whether those we meet are fitting candidates. Jesus challenges his disciples again and again not to judge others on the basis of what they see. If anything, Jesus encourages his disciples to see in anyone the potential for redemption, and to leave it to God to render a final judgment. God, after all, is the only one who can see into people’s hearts.

As the keepers of the keys, therefore, our job is to look for every opportunity to open the gates. In fact, that which the Catechism identifies as the act of “closing” the gates of Heaven – i.e., church discipline – applies to people who are already “in.” As such, condemning the sins of those outside the church is a waste of time. Our response to “sinners” should be invitation – “Come this way to enter life.” If we’re to be vigilant about sin, we should start with our own. What are the things in my own life that aren’t befitting a citizen of the Kingdom of Heaven? What are the sins we’re fostering as a community that are at odds with the charter of God’s Kingdom?
When people come to us wanting to enter, maybe our response should be, “I don’t see why not.” After all, “while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” We were permitted entry, unworthy candidates that we were. Shouldn’t our first priority be to invite others to enter the same open door?

Mystery and Idolatry

Passage: Lord’s Day 30

Q&A 80 is a section of the Heidelberg Catechism that is intentionally antagonistic. Other Reformed Confessions, such as the Canons of Dort, are written with an explicitly polemical agenda – that is, their authors clearly state their intent to refute heresies or alternate theologies. For the most part the Catechism avoids this kind of language. But here in Q&A 80 the gloves come off. The authors of the Catechism contrast a Reformed understanding of the Lord’s Supper with the Roman Catholic Mass. And they conclude that the latter is a “condemnable idolatry.” Why do they take such a hard line?

To be fair, the position of the Catechism is no longer reflective of the official position of our church. Our denominational translation of the Catechism (available at the above link) brackets the aforementioned passage and adds the following footnote:
In response to a mandate from Synod 1998, the Christian Reformed Church’s Interchurch Relations Committee conducted a study of Q. and A. 80 and the Roman Catholic Mass. Based on this study, Synod 2004 declared that “Q. and A. 80 can no longer be held in its current form as part of our confession.” Synod 2006 directed that Q. and A. 80 remain in the CRC’s text of the Heidelberg Catechism but that the last three paragraphs be placed in brackets to indicate that they do not accurately reflect the official teaching and practice of today’s Roman Catholic Church and are no longer confessionally binding on members of the CRC.
In other words, a majority of members of our church no longer hold to the position that the Roman Catholic Mass is a “condemnable idolatry.” That being said, the passage is still there. Why?

The first is that within the practice of the Roman Catholic Church of the 1500’s there was perceived to be widespread misunderstanding of the purpose and meaning of communion. There were many lay members of the church who had been led to believe that their salvation was in jeopardy if they didn’t partake of the Mass on a daily, or at least weekly, basis. This led to the belief that it was the Mass itself that saved people.

The second is that the doctrine of Transubstantiation – that is, the conviction that the bread and wine of communion become the physical body and blood of Jesus when blessed by a priest – can lead to the treatment of the elements as sacred objects. The bread and wine themselves can be treated with a level of reverence or worship that belong only to God. Hence the conclusion that the Mass was idolatrous.

Our denomination no longer holds to such a sweeping condemnation. However, Q&A 80 contain a caution to members of any Christian tradition. The reality is that anyone who takes communion runs the risk of treating it as a substitute for a relationship with the risen Lord Jesus. If we think of the elements of communion as the thing that makes us right with God, then we eliminate our need for Jesus himself. Communion becomes an act of reconciliation that we initiate and we control. And it risks becoming a sort of spiritual self-medication – so long as we’re taking the elements, we’re saved. The elements are seen as the source of salvation. Regardless of the official position or theology of your church, if you approach communion with this attitude (conscious or unconscious), you’re treating it as a “condemnable idolatry.” A substitute for a living God and his gift of grace.

The Catechism reminds us that our sins have been forgiven, once and for all, by the one sacrifice of Jesus Christ. It is through our union with Christ that we are made right with God. Communion doesn’t forge our union with Christ; it celebrates the union that Christ has already granted. Communion doesn’t save people; Jesus does. We don’t appeal to God on the basis of any other intermediary – religious rituals, good behavior, or holy people. Our appeal is solely on the basis of Jesus' intervention: his death on the cross; his resurrection; and his physical presence in heaven before the throne of God the Father.

Union

Passage: 1 Corinthians 10:1-22

A number of sci-fi programs and novels explore alien civilizations that are extraordinarily collectivist. Two that come immediately to mind are the Borg from Star Trek: The Next Generation and the Formics from Orson Scott Card’s Ender’s Game series. Within these fictional cultures the idea of the individual is foreign. Every representative of the alien race thinks and acts with the goals and interests of the entire race in mind. It is as though individuals exist as expressions of a single entity.

The thing that defines these beings as alien – utterly other than human – is that unity of will and purpose. In the stories, human beings recoil at the thought of a culture in which the individual is lost. When one of these alien societies threatens humanity, the ensuing struggle is seen as a “fight for freedom.” A fight to preserve the individual in the face of forces that will subsume it.

At its heart, the Christian faith is an invitation to the individual to submit one’s identity and will. To find one’s identity as a member of the Body of Christ; and to submit one’s will to the will of Christ. In 1 Corinthians 10 Paul points to episodes in the history of God’s people during which they chose their own way. Turned their backs on God’s overtures and instructions; abandoned the community of believers and their way of life, and charted their own course. Chose the appetites and desires of the individual over the way of the people and the will of God. The Old Testament includes instance after instance in which this course of action leads to disaster. The message repeated over and over is that true humanity is found in reconciliation with the Creator. That people live best when they allow God’s will to restrain and guide them.

The Lord’s Supper is emblematic of our commitment to God and God’s people. It’s not primarily something we take to guarantee ourselves a better life. It’s not a product we consume to enrich ourselves as individuals. It’s an act of submission – to our Lord and to his Body, the church. Submitting to Christ means committing to a way of life. A life of self-giving and self-sacrifice. A life of choosing the interests of others over self-interest. When we partake of the body and the blood we take in the life of Christ and are taken in to his Body. We become one with him and his people.

The paradox is that we don’t lose ourselves in the process. If anything it is in our union with Christ that we truly find ourselves. Our purpose and our worth as human beings become clearer. We become more aware of who we were created to be. This is what we were created for: union with the Creator; union with each other. We find this in our communion at the Lord’s table.

Absence Makes the Heart Grow...

Passage: Lord’s Day 28; Matthew 26:17-30

When I was a kid my parents went on a two-week trip without my sisters and me. The three of us stayed at the houses of different friends. My younger sister was about two at the time, and when my parents returned to pick us up I remember her responding not with tears of joy but with what seemed near indifference. She was busy playing, and was more interested in finishing her game than she was getting in the car.

Very young children have the capacity to adapt emotionally to changes in care environments. Their attachments are formed on the basis of regular contact – they bond with whomever is consistently close by. And it’s remarkable how quickly this bonding process can take effect.
In truth, adults do the same thing in varying degrees. We are shaped most profoundly by those relationships and experiences that are part of our everyday existence. We are much more attached to and influenced by the people we see regularly than we are to those we see occasionally.

Because of this, when we must by necessity be separated from loved ones, we take intentional steps to maintain a meaningful level of intimacy with them. We establish means of communicating regularly. We send letters and pictures. We leave objects that serve as constant reminders – items of clothing; personal belongings; things that connect us to the missing loved ones. These objects keep us close. They instill in us the feelings evoked by the person, and remind us of our commitment to them.

Before an extended departure from them, Jesus gives his closest loved ones a means of staying close to him. Practices and objects that instill the feelings his presence evokes, and remind them of their commitment to him. If his friends didn’t already have a relationship with him, the practices and objects would be void of meaning. But because of their rich and intense fellowship, and because of their commitment, each thanksgiving meal is an encounter. It is as though, every time they eat the bread and drink the cup, he is there with them. He is in them; they in him. They neither forget him, nor who they are with him. Though they are apart, each celebration of the sacrament draws Jesus' friends closer and closer to him.

Foolishness?

Passage: 1 Corinthians 2:6-16

In Book IV of his Institutes, John Calvin talks about the word “mystery.” Calvin points out that “mystery” appears repeatedly in Paul’s letters as the Greek term musterion. This word is, in turn, rendered sacramentum in the Latin New Testament. It is from this Latin term that we derive our word, “sacraments.”

In 1 Corinthians Paul talks about “a mystery that has been hidden and that God destined for our glory before time began.” Paul goes on to talk about Christ crucified; about the wisdom of God. He describes these as “spiritual realities explained with Spirit-taught words.” Paul concludes that these things that make complete sense when interpreted by the Spirit are foolishness to those who are without the Spirit. Mysteries. Sacramentum.

When Calvin talks about the sacraments, he uses this kind of language. The sacraments convince us of and confirm that which would otherwise be mysterious; foolish. But Calvin goes on to argue that the sacraments are meaningless – foolish – unless accompanied by the Word of God. He says,
“a sacrament consists of the word and the external sign. By the word we ought to understand not one which, muttered without meaning and without faith, by its sound merely, as by a magical incantation, has the effect of consecrating the element, but one which, preached, makes us understand what the visible sign means.”
When informed by the Word and Spirit of God, the sacraments have the power to confirm our faith. They have the power to convince us that what God says is true; that God has accomplished exactly what he claims to have accomplished. The power to propel us into a life of sacrifice and service for the Savior.

Anyone without the Spirit only sees little cubes of bread. Ridiculously small cups of juice. Drops of water. Foolishness. By his Spirit God has unlocked the musterion; the divine wisdom of the means of his grace. Christ crucified; the washing of water; the taking of a holy meal. All of which signify and seal our oneness with the one who gave up his body that we might live; who poured out his blood that we might be clean. Foolishness? Mystery. Sacramentum.

Sacramental

Passage: Lord’s Day 25; 1 Peter 1:1-12

Water in a bowl. Little cubes of white bread on a plate. Tiny plastic thimbles of grape juice set in the perfect-sized holes of their custom tray. Otherwise mundane objects whose presentation gives them a special significance. Earthly things that, interacted with in the right way, resonate with heaven. Sacraments.

What are the sacraments? John Calvin pontificates that they are,
“…external sign[s], by which the Lord seals on our consciences his promises of good-will toward us, in order to sustain the weakness of our faith, and we in turn testify our piety towards him, both before himself, and before angels as well as men. We may also define more briefly by calling [them] a testimony of the divine favour toward us, confirmed by an external sign, with a corresponding attestation of our faith towards Him.”
Or, more succinctly, “a visible sign of a sacred thing, or a visible form of an invisible grace.” [Institutes, Book IV, 14.1]

The Heidelberg Catechism calls each sacrament a “sign and a seal” of God’s grace. God extends the overture of his grace. By his grace God invites us into right relationship with him. We in turn perform actions that symbolize that God’s grace has taken effect in our lives. We also, by our actions, align ourselves with God’s will – we demonstrate to the world that we are good with God and good with what God is doing.

When we baptize new believers and the babies of believing parents, we together acknowledge that it is God who has drawn the person into covenant relationship. And we commit ourselves to the work God will continue to do. When we take the bread and drink the cup we testify that Jesus gave up his body and blood to atone for our sin and raise us to new life. And we declare that from this point forward we will live the new life he has given. The sacraments are our statement of belief in what God has done for us and our submission to what God will do in us.

As such, our two sacraments are the worship expression of a life that is, in every part, sacramental. Every moment of our life in Christ – every thought, word, and act – has eternal, spiritual significance. In every moment we may declare before people and before God and even the angels of heaven either that we are good with what God is doing or that we are not. In his first letter the Apostle Peter invites his church to live the sacramental life. He says,
In all this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials. These have come so that the proven genuineness of your faith—of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire—may result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed.

Throughout each day we are given circumstances. In response we will testify to the nature of our faith. Do I believe that through Jesus I am reconciled to a gracious and merciful God? Do I believe that God is using every circumstance of my life to draw me closer? Are my thoughts, words and actions “visible signs of sacred things”? These are the questions of the sacramental life.

Who are You Calling Good?

Passage: Lord’s Day 23

Few Reformed Doctrines are as offensive as the Doctrine of Total Depravity. This doctrine is touched on briefly in Q&A 60 of the Heidelberg Catechism, which states:
“…my conscience accuses me of having grievously sinned against all God's commandments and of never having kept any of them, and…I am still inclined toward all evil…”
Grievously sinned against all God’s commandments? Inclined toward all evil? We read this. And we react. Who are you calling evil?

Ironically, during his ministry on earth, Jesus asks the opposite: Who are you calling… good?
The question occurs during a conversation with a rich young man. The man is devoutly religious. He has grown up learning the Scriptures and following God’s Law. He comes to Jesus and poses the ultimate question: “Good teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” Jesus knows the answer. But he doesn’t give it. Instead, he asks another question. A seemingly unrelated question:
Good? Who are you calling good?
Actually, what Jesus says is, “Why do you call me good? No one is good but God!”

This question contains the two components of the wisdom of Jesus' response. The first has to do with Jesus’ identity. As is often the case, Jesus is having fun with his audience. Jesus doesn’t say what he says about goodness because he isn’t good, but because he is! What he asserts is true. That "no one is good but God" doesn’t preclude the possibility that Jesus is good; it implies that Jesus is God.

This leads to Jesus' second point: that the young man (along with the rest of us) doesn’t really know what we’re talking about when we use the term "good". The young man is operating under the assumption that his standing before God can be improved by his actions. That he will be rendered “good” once he’s achieved a level of performance or moral purity. Hey, I’m a good person, he thinks. Jesus says, “Who are you calling good?” Because when Jesus says “good”, he means, “good enough to be good with God.” And no person is that good. The reality is that if you use the rules as a measuring stick, you’ll fail every time. Goodness is all or nothing. One infraction renders you a lawbreaker. A rebel. Not Good. No human being is good enough at following God’s rules to be called good.

But the Law wasn’t given to make us good with God. God would have done us an infinite injustice to suggest that we had to work our way into his heart. God gives the Law to teach people how to live right – how to live the way he created us to live. God also gives the Law to point out how we should live once we’re in right relationship with him. But we can’t use the Law to get right with God. Only God can do that.

The amazing thing is that God does. We’re not good. But God is. Through Jesus God imprints us with his goodness. If you and I are in Christ, then it’s not our goodness God sees. It’s his. Who are you calling good? There’s only one, and he’s our shot at being good with God.

Pure Joy?

Passage: James 1:2-16

A few years ago I helped lead a study of the Book of James. When we covered this introductory passage, one of the participants said, “Is James saying we should ask God for hardship?” At first glance it almost seems as though he is. “Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters,” he says, “whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.” Pure joy. In my experience the circumstances God uses to teach me patience, wisdom, and trust are not joyous circumstances. The loss of a job. Repeated sleepless nights with a crying infant or sick child. The sustained pain of illness or injury. The uncertainty brought on by conflict in a close relationship. I would never ask for any of these.

And yet looking back I wouldn’t ask God to take them away, either. Why? Because through the discipline of perseverance God has broken me down and re-formed me again and again. Those experiences that have made me more and more the person I want to be – that is, more and more like my Lord and Savior – are painful. I wouldn’t have chosen them; I wouldn’t trade them away. This is the paradox of the life of faith.

The key to all of it is what James identifies in verse 6: trust. James says, “You must believe and not doubt.” The only thing that can turn pain into joy is trust. Trust that God is committed to completing the good work he began in you. Trust that God is at work bringing you closer to him, and bringing out in you the image you were created to bear. If you don’t trust that God’s hand is at work redeeming your struggles, then all you feel is the pain. It is trust that enables us to count it all pure joy.

Forgetting What is Behind and Straining Toward What is Ahead

Passage: Philippians 3:12-21

In a recent conversation it occurred to me that we reach a turning point at which we do more looking back than looking forward. We spend much of our lives looking forward to milestones, new adventures, and uncharted territory. But then we have moments in which we realize we've experienced all the stuff we were looking forward to. Youth and energy and vitality fade. Activities that were a source of fulfillment and joy become difficult. We begin to look back with more frequency; more regret; and more longing. If we aren’t intentional we buy in to the widely held misconception that our best years have passed.

In Philippians 3 Paul says, essentially, “Don’t waste your time.” Paul isn’t talking about reminiscing, per se. He’s warning against concluding what Bryan Adams does in “The Summer of ‘69”: Those were the best days of my life. Paul says, “They weren’t!” It doesn’t matter how good your life was in the past. It doesn’t matter how bad your life feels now. If you are a believer in Christ, then you live with the promise that the best of what God has to offer is yet to come.

This is why Paul is able to write his letter to the Philippians – arguably the most positive book of the New Testament – from death row. He is free from despair in spite of his present; he is free of nostalgia and self-pity as he reflects on his past. Why? His citizenship is in heaven. And he knows that he will one day go the way of Christ. He will pass through death into an amazing new life. A life free of the suffering and sadness and struggle of this one. Paul speaks for all of us: Our citizenship is in heaven. And we eagerly await a Savior from there, the Lord Jesus Christ, who, by the power that enables him to bring everything under his control, will transform our lowly bodies so that they will be like his glorious body.

This could be a consolation prize. Or it could be the ultimate prize. It could be our motivation for weathering life’s inevitable disappointments and losses with grace and with hope. This isn’t all there is. This isn’t your one shot at happiness, success, fulfillment or true love. There is something so much better ahead. Wait for it. Hope in it. Strain for it.

Living Stones

Passage: 1 Peter 2:4-10

Based on what we know of Peter’s story, this section of his first letter can be considered autobiographical. Peter is the disciple who, in spite of his flaws and failures, Jesus chose as the foundation of the church. When Peter calls the members of the church “living stones – rejected by people but chose by God and precious to him”, he’s speaking from experience. Peter isn’t the kind of guy anyone would single out as a natural leader. He’s exceptional only for his tendency to put his foot in his mouth. His actions leading up to Christ’s death mark him as anything but reliable. He knows this and yet finds himself in the remarkable position of being chosen by the Son of God to represent him to the world. To lead the world-transforming movement of Christ's followers. “Like me,” says Peter, “you’ve been chosen by God. You are precious to him. And even now he is making you into his dwelling place. A nation of priests called to be his meeting place with the world.”

God doesn’t choose us because we’re good. God chooses us because he’s good. He’s in the business of using reclaimed and flawed materials in his construction projects. You and me. This is the church. A perfect, “spiritual house” made of imperfect building blocks. It’s a work in progress. And even as God works on the whole, he’s working on each stone - stones like you and me - smoothing edges; shoring up cracks; setting us in such a way that we won’t slide out of place. Each of us is precious to God and integral to Christ’s church. Don’t underestimate the value of every living stone.

On this Rock

Passage: Matthew 16:13-20; John 21:15-19

As usual, Peter has no idea what he’s getting himself into. He is a simple man from a small town in a backwater of the Roman Empire. He’s never been the kind of guy to think things through. He tends to jump first, ask questions later. His brain is often playing catchup with his mouth. Peter’s impulsivity has always gotten him into trouble. But he’s not always wrong.
Peter signed on with Jesus without really thinking about it. It just felt like the right thing to do. Peter’s had this feeling about Jesus right from the start. There’s something about Jesus that makes Peter immediately willing to give everything up to follow him. And the more time he spends with Jesus, the more he’s convinced.

One day Jesus is walking with the disciples, and he asks one of his questions. A seemingly innocent question that opens the door to an infinite conversation. “Who,” he asks, “do people say I am?” The other disciples offer up the theories they’ve heard murmured through the crowds and in the coffee shops of the towns they’ve passed through. Elijah; Moses; Jeremiah; John the Baptist. Prophet. With a twinkle in his eye Jesus says, “That’s what everyone else is saying. What about you?” Peter can’t contain himself. “You’re the Christ! Messiah! Son of the living God!” He doesn’t know why, but he’s never been more certain anything else his whole life. Jesus turns to him. “Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah. You didn’t figure this out on your own, did you? It’s actually been revealed to you by my Father – by God himself. I think I’ll start calling you Peter – the Rock! On this rock I will build my church!” The other disciples laugh. Peter himself doesn’t know what to make of this.

Jesus smiles, but he’s not joking. As he says it, his eyes glisten and there’s a hint of sadness in his voice. Jesus knows the structural flaws in this foundation he’s chosen. He knows the ways this rock will shift and buckle before the building even begins. Jesus also knows what it will cost his friend to become the foundation of his church.Everything.

And what was Jesus thinking? Didn’t he know that when you build on a lopsided and shaky foundation you get a lopsided and shaky building? Why Peter? And what does it say about the church Jesus built that Peter was the first stone?
The church is infused with the character of the Rock. We aren’t always much to look at. We’re rough around the edges. We speak and act without always thinking everything through, and it gets us into trouble. But the Spirit has spoken to depths of our hearts and testifies again and again: He is the Christ, the Son of God. Follow him because no matter the cost, it's worth it!

We follow, never knowing where he will lead. We follow because we know that it’s true and that he is the hope of the world. Like Peter we are set in place side by side with a Rock that will not move and that cannot be shaken. The church is such a beautiful thing. Imperfect building materials somehow set perfectly in place by a master builder. Designed to stand for eternity and withstand the very powers of death and hell. Let yourself be shaped and molded and set in place by its builder and Lord.