Passages: Lord’s Day 9; Genesis 2
In Lord’s Day 9 the Catechism makes three audacious claims: First, that one God created the universe; Second, that this God continues to govern the universe and every constituent part; Third, that this God knows and loves us, and identifies himself as our Father. On the basis of this foundation, the Catechism goes on to claim that our lives themselves are mapped out and ordered by God. Accordingly, every event and experience is part of God’s plan for our lives.
This raises all kinds of questions. Why would God bring me this bout of the flu? Or cancer? Why would God allow me to lose this job? Or spouse? Or child? What good can God bring out of this loss or failure or hurt or humiliation?
We don’t always know. We can’t possibly see the bigger picture God sees. As God’s children, we can seldom do more than simply trust. But when we do so, we are given eyes through which to see more and more of the good that God has for us.
Monday, February 28, 2011
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Grafted In
Passage: Romans 11:11-24
Lord’s Day 7 deals with the perennial dilemma of why God saves some people but not all people. This reality is offensive to those who have positioned themselves outside the Christian faith; and it is deeply troubling to those within the faith who have unbelieving loved ones. Why can’t we just say, unreservedly, that God saves everyone?
The immediate answer is that our Scriptures simply don’t allow it. Both Testaments are full of references to the inevitable judgment that awaits some people. The question this brings us to, of course, is who – who is saved, and why? Who is condemned, and why?
I just finished reading a post-apocalyptic novel in which one of the sub-plots is the rescue of a young woman from two ruthless ex-convicts. The young woman’s community track them down, secure her freedom, and subdue the two evil men. But then they have the dilemma of what to do with these two – their sworn enemies. The rescuers elect not to exact revenge on them but instead to adopt them into their community. However, it is immediately obvious this isn’t going to work. The men are too committed to being their enemies – to abusing their trust, taking their resources, and violating their peace. They will never come around. The community has only one option: send the two enemies away, even though their chances of survival are slim.
Throughout the history of God’s dealings with humanity there have always been people who positioned themselves as God’s enemies. When God adopted the Israelites as his chosen people, and established for them his own order and peace, there were other nations who wanted nothing more than to destroy that peace. They could never co-exist with God’s people. When God expanded the boundaries of his Kingdom to include people of every tribe and nation (“Gentiles” like you and me), there continued to be those who hated what they saw of God in the life of God’s people. This continues to be the case. There are those who, when they encounter God’s people and God’s word, want nothing to do with them. There are even those who want to actively undermine God’s work and destroy it. If a person persists in positioning him or herself as God’s enemy, there comes a point at which it’s obvious this will never change.
The invitation has always been to become a friend of God and be grafted into God’s family. There’s always room for more, and God continually makes room, even for strangers and former enemies. The caution is that if you maintain your position as an enemy of God, you’ll be condemned to live – and die – without him.
Lord’s Day 7 deals with the perennial dilemma of why God saves some people but not all people. This reality is offensive to those who have positioned themselves outside the Christian faith; and it is deeply troubling to those within the faith who have unbelieving loved ones. Why can’t we just say, unreservedly, that God saves everyone?
The immediate answer is that our Scriptures simply don’t allow it. Both Testaments are full of references to the inevitable judgment that awaits some people. The question this brings us to, of course, is who – who is saved, and why? Who is condemned, and why?
I just finished reading a post-apocalyptic novel in which one of the sub-plots is the rescue of a young woman from two ruthless ex-convicts. The young woman’s community track them down, secure her freedom, and subdue the two evil men. But then they have the dilemma of what to do with these two – their sworn enemies. The rescuers elect not to exact revenge on them but instead to adopt them into their community. However, it is immediately obvious this isn’t going to work. The men are too committed to being their enemies – to abusing their trust, taking their resources, and violating their peace. They will never come around. The community has only one option: send the two enemies away, even though their chances of survival are slim.
Throughout the history of God’s dealings with humanity there have always been people who positioned themselves as God’s enemies. When God adopted the Israelites as his chosen people, and established for them his own order and peace, there were other nations who wanted nothing more than to destroy that peace. They could never co-exist with God’s people. When God expanded the boundaries of his Kingdom to include people of every tribe and nation (“Gentiles” like you and me), there continued to be those who hated what they saw of God in the life of God’s people. This continues to be the case. There are those who, when they encounter God’s people and God’s word, want nothing to do with them. There are even those who want to actively undermine God’s work and destroy it. If a person persists in positioning him or herself as God’s enemy, there comes a point at which it’s obvious this will never change.
The invitation has always been to become a friend of God and be grafted into God’s family. There’s always room for more, and God continually makes room, even for strangers and former enemies. The caution is that if you maintain your position as an enemy of God, you’ll be condemned to live – and die – without him.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
I Thought it Would Be More Complicated...
Passage: 1 Corinthians 1:18-31
The first six Lord’s Days of the Heidelberg Catechism take pains to detail just how messed up our relationship with God has become. Humanity, we’re told, is immersed in sin. Unable to do anything but rebel against God and God’s good order for creation. Naturally inclined to hate God and fellow human beings. Deserving of the ultimate penalty: banishment from God’s presence. The cruel paradox in it all, according to the Catechism, is that we can’t possibly withstand the ultimate penalty. What’s the solution to our dilemma, if there is one?
Well, when we finally get to the solution in Lord’s Day 6, it’s tempting to say, “Really? That’s it? I thought it would be a bit more complicated.” God’s solution to our dilemma is Jesus Christ. All we need to get out from under the weight of our deserved punishment is Jesus. All we need to get right with God is Jesus. How is that a solution?
In his first letter to the Corinthians, Paul puts it this way: “The message of the cross is foolishness to the perishing. But to us who are being saved it is the power of God.” As a species we idolize self-sufficiency. We’re suspicious of anything we can’t do for ourselves. We assume that a gift comes with strings attached. We will either be indebted, obligated, or ashamed by the charity of someone else. We generally accept it when someone offers to pay off a debt, but we tend to look for a way to repay it or wait for the other shoe to drop. The debt that Jesus pays for us doesn’t fit any familiar category. It’s a debt whose magnitude we can’t fathom. The cost to repay it far beyond any human capacity to reimburse. All we have to do is say “Thank you.” Which is something we rarely do. Why?
Because if you’re a skeptic, you don’t buy the whole indebtedness to God thing in the first place. It’s foolishness. And if you’re a believer, you can’t believe that Jesus has fully covered your debt. It’s too simple. We want there to be a piece of the work left over for us to do. There’s not.
That being said, it’s not easy to accept the gift of Jesus Christ. The reason for this is that saying yes to Jesus is saying yes to reconciliation with God. It’s one step toward a relationship that will take over your life. As one songwriter put it, “It didn’t come cheap, but I got it for free.” Reconnecting us with God cost Jesus everything. The relationship we get for his efforts is one that demands everything.
The first six Lord’s Days of the Heidelberg Catechism take pains to detail just how messed up our relationship with God has become. Humanity, we’re told, is immersed in sin. Unable to do anything but rebel against God and God’s good order for creation. Naturally inclined to hate God and fellow human beings. Deserving of the ultimate penalty: banishment from God’s presence. The cruel paradox in it all, according to the Catechism, is that we can’t possibly withstand the ultimate penalty. What’s the solution to our dilemma, if there is one?
Well, when we finally get to the solution in Lord’s Day 6, it’s tempting to say, “Really? That’s it? I thought it would be a bit more complicated.” God’s solution to our dilemma is Jesus Christ. All we need to get out from under the weight of our deserved punishment is Jesus. All we need to get right with God is Jesus. How is that a solution?
In his first letter to the Corinthians, Paul puts it this way: “The message of the cross is foolishness to the perishing. But to us who are being saved it is the power of God.” As a species we idolize self-sufficiency. We’re suspicious of anything we can’t do for ourselves. We assume that a gift comes with strings attached. We will either be indebted, obligated, or ashamed by the charity of someone else. We generally accept it when someone offers to pay off a debt, but we tend to look for a way to repay it or wait for the other shoe to drop. The debt that Jesus pays for us doesn’t fit any familiar category. It’s a debt whose magnitude we can’t fathom. The cost to repay it far beyond any human capacity to reimburse. All we have to do is say “Thank you.” Which is something we rarely do. Why?
Because if you’re a skeptic, you don’t buy the whole indebtedness to God thing in the first place. It’s foolishness. And if you’re a believer, you can’t believe that Jesus has fully covered your debt. It’s too simple. We want there to be a piece of the work left over for us to do. There’s not.
That being said, it’s not easy to accept the gift of Jesus Christ. The reason for this is that saying yes to Jesus is saying yes to reconciliation with God. It’s one step toward a relationship that will take over your life. As one songwriter put it, “It didn’t come cheap, but I got it for free.” Reconnecting us with God cost Jesus everything. The relationship we get for his efforts is one that demands everything.
Monday, February 7, 2011
Guilty by Association
Passage: Romans 5:12-21
So there we were, bailing him out of the drunk tank…
It started as a normal Labor Day weekend. I was a high school senior. I tagged along on the annual trip to drop my older sister off at college. I stayed with my cousin, who attended the same college. And of course we stayed up late on Saturday night engaging in the usual on-campus back-to-school rituals. At about 1 in the morning we were hanging out in the hallway of my cousin’s dorm when a few of his friends burst in. “We have to bail Pete out,” one of them said, breathlessly. “Cops busted the party he was at. He’s in jail.” My cousin and his friends quickly went around the floor collecting money for bail. We piled into a Volkswagen Golf and drove downtown to the municipal court building housing the local overnight accommodations for underage drinkers and other disturbers of the peace. My cousin approached the overnight clerk, explaining that he was there to pick up a friend who’d gotten busted at a party. The clerk looked at him. “Don’t you mean two friends?” “Uh, sure,” said my cousin. The aforementioned Pete was walked through the bullet-proof glass door that had separated him from freedom. He was followed by another clean-cut, college-aged guy none of us had ever seen. The clerk said, “He came in the same cruiser. He was at the same party. I assume he’s with you.” My cousin said, “Of course. Let’s go.” (Interestingly, we didn’t have to pay any money. The “bail money” was repurposed later that weekend as “pizza money.”)
Well we couldn’t wait to find out who this other guy was. Turns out he was a freshman from Canada. He’d gone to the party with his newfound buddy, Pete, and some other guys he’d met on campus. When the police showed up and collared Pete, his new friend had sauntered up, beer in hand, and asked, “What seems to the be the problem, officers?” He had forgotten that the legal drinking age in Michigan was two years older than it was on his home turf. He was I.D.’d, and hauled off with the other delinquents. He was, in fact, in no position to intervene on his fellow lawbreakers’ behalf because he was as guilty as they were.
In its treatment of the theme of human deliverance, the Heidelberg Catechism brings to light a unique dilemma. Leading up to Lord’s Day 6 we’ve been told repeatedly that God demands an accounting for every human sin. We’re also told that none of us can withstand the punishment our sins deserve. Lord’s Day 5 states that we need a substitute – someone to stand in and take our punishment. But this stand-in can’t be just anyone. Why? Because every person is to some degree guilty. None of us is in a position to intervene on a fellow sinner’s behalf because we’re all equally deserving of God’s punishment. I could try to take the full weight of God’s punishment, but it would only be what I myself deserved. I couldn’t take yours, too. So how does God deal with this dilemma? With a person who isn’t guilty. Where would God find such a person? And what such person would stand in and take this undeserved punishment for someone else? Only one who loved humanity perfectly and wholeheartedly. Who is innocent of sin; who loves perfectly and wholeheartedly but God himself?
So there we were, bailing him out of the drunk tank…
It started as a normal Labor Day weekend. I was a high school senior. I tagged along on the annual trip to drop my older sister off at college. I stayed with my cousin, who attended the same college. And of course we stayed up late on Saturday night engaging in the usual on-campus back-to-school rituals. At about 1 in the morning we were hanging out in the hallway of my cousin’s dorm when a few of his friends burst in. “We have to bail Pete out,” one of them said, breathlessly. “Cops busted the party he was at. He’s in jail.” My cousin and his friends quickly went around the floor collecting money for bail. We piled into a Volkswagen Golf and drove downtown to the municipal court building housing the local overnight accommodations for underage drinkers and other disturbers of the peace. My cousin approached the overnight clerk, explaining that he was there to pick up a friend who’d gotten busted at a party. The clerk looked at him. “Don’t you mean two friends?” “Uh, sure,” said my cousin. The aforementioned Pete was walked through the bullet-proof glass door that had separated him from freedom. He was followed by another clean-cut, college-aged guy none of us had ever seen. The clerk said, “He came in the same cruiser. He was at the same party. I assume he’s with you.” My cousin said, “Of course. Let’s go.” (Interestingly, we didn’t have to pay any money. The “bail money” was repurposed later that weekend as “pizza money.”)
Well we couldn’t wait to find out who this other guy was. Turns out he was a freshman from Canada. He’d gone to the party with his newfound buddy, Pete, and some other guys he’d met on campus. When the police showed up and collared Pete, his new friend had sauntered up, beer in hand, and asked, “What seems to the be the problem, officers?” He had forgotten that the legal drinking age in Michigan was two years older than it was on his home turf. He was I.D.’d, and hauled off with the other delinquents. He was, in fact, in no position to intervene on his fellow lawbreakers’ behalf because he was as guilty as they were.
In its treatment of the theme of human deliverance, the Heidelberg Catechism brings to light a unique dilemma. Leading up to Lord’s Day 6 we’ve been told repeatedly that God demands an accounting for every human sin. We’re also told that none of us can withstand the punishment our sins deserve. Lord’s Day 5 states that we need a substitute – someone to stand in and take our punishment. But this stand-in can’t be just anyone. Why? Because every person is to some degree guilty. None of us is in a position to intervene on a fellow sinner’s behalf because we’re all equally deserving of God’s punishment. I could try to take the full weight of God’s punishment, but it would only be what I myself deserved. I couldn’t take yours, too. So how does God deal with this dilemma? With a person who isn’t guilty. Where would God find such a person? And what such person would stand in and take this undeserved punishment for someone else? Only one who loved humanity perfectly and wholeheartedly. Who is innocent of sin; who loves perfectly and wholeheartedly but God himself?
Thursday, February 3, 2011
The Reluctant Disciplinarian
Passage: Ezekiel 18
When God introduces the Law to his people early in their life together, God tells them,
I, the LORD your God, am a jealous God, punishing the children for the sin of the fathers to the third and fourth generation of those who hate me, but showing love to a thousand generations of those who love me and keep my commandments.
It’s a pretty harsh pronouncement. So much so that it lodges itself inextricably in the consciousness of God’s people. Even though they forget most everything else God says, they remember this one isolated statement: “…punishing the children for the sin of the fathers to the third and fourth generation…” Over time God’s people even develop their own little proverbial riff on it: “The fathers eat sour grapes and the children’s teeth are set on edge.” They’ve gotten the message: children will be punished for the sins of their parents and grandparents and even great-grandparents.
In Ezekiel 18 God addresses the proverb. Ezekiel records,
“As surely as I live, declares the Sovereign LORD, you will no longer quote this proverb in Israel. For every living soul belongs to me, the father as well as the son—both alike belong to me. The soul who sins is the one who will die.”
Initially this sounds bad. But for a people who are convinced that the sins of their grandparents have disqualified them from salvation, it’s very good news. It’s now clear that every person is separated from God only by his or her own sins. Here, says God, is your motivation to live a new life.
To drive the point home, God says this:
“…if a wicked man turns away from all the sins he has committed and keeps all my decrees and does what is just and right, he will surely live; he will not die. None of the offenses he has committed will be remembered against him. Because of the righteous things he has done, he will live. Do I take any pleasure in the death of the wicked?” declares the Sovereign LORD. “Rather, am I not pleased when they turn from their ways and live?”
God, it turns out, wants nothing more than for his children to repent - literally, to return.
I recently watched an episode of Modern Family in which Phil and Claire, parents of three school-aged kids, struggle to become better disciplinarians. It’s Christmas Eve; Phil, Claire and the kids are talking with the grandparents over the computer. And Claire notices a cigarette burn on the sofa. Immediately they confront their kids. And Phil, in an effort to establish parental credibility, declares, “That’s it! If whoever’s responsible doesn’t come forward, we’re cancelling Christmas!” No one confesses. Phil and Claire take down the tree. But then they spend the rest of the episode trying to figure out how they can, as a family, reinstate Christmas. They don’t delight in punishing their kids (contrary to what their kids allege). They discipline them reluctantly, as a means toward a greater end.
God doesn’t delight in punishment. God delights in his children, and wants nothing more than for them to be reconciled to him and to each other.
When God introduces the Law to his people early in their life together, God tells them,
I, the LORD your God, am a jealous God, punishing the children for the sin of the fathers to the third and fourth generation of those who hate me, but showing love to a thousand generations of those who love me and keep my commandments.
It’s a pretty harsh pronouncement. So much so that it lodges itself inextricably in the consciousness of God’s people. Even though they forget most everything else God says, they remember this one isolated statement: “…punishing the children for the sin of the fathers to the third and fourth generation…” Over time God’s people even develop their own little proverbial riff on it: “The fathers eat sour grapes and the children’s teeth are set on edge.” They’ve gotten the message: children will be punished for the sins of their parents and grandparents and even great-grandparents.
In Ezekiel 18 God addresses the proverb. Ezekiel records,
“As surely as I live, declares the Sovereign LORD, you will no longer quote this proverb in Israel. For every living soul belongs to me, the father as well as the son—both alike belong to me. The soul who sins is the one who will die.”
Initially this sounds bad. But for a people who are convinced that the sins of their grandparents have disqualified them from salvation, it’s very good news. It’s now clear that every person is separated from God only by his or her own sins. Here, says God, is your motivation to live a new life.
To drive the point home, God says this:
“…if a wicked man turns away from all the sins he has committed and keeps all my decrees and does what is just and right, he will surely live; he will not die. None of the offenses he has committed will be remembered against him. Because of the righteous things he has done, he will live. Do I take any pleasure in the death of the wicked?” declares the Sovereign LORD. “Rather, am I not pleased when they turn from their ways and live?”
God, it turns out, wants nothing more than for his children to repent - literally, to return.
I recently watched an episode of Modern Family in which Phil and Claire, parents of three school-aged kids, struggle to become better disciplinarians. It’s Christmas Eve; Phil, Claire and the kids are talking with the grandparents over the computer. And Claire notices a cigarette burn on the sofa. Immediately they confront their kids. And Phil, in an effort to establish parental credibility, declares, “That’s it! If whoever’s responsible doesn’t come forward, we’re cancelling Christmas!” No one confesses. Phil and Claire take down the tree. But then they spend the rest of the episode trying to figure out how they can, as a family, reinstate Christmas. They don’t delight in punishing their kids (contrary to what their kids allege). They discipline them reluctantly, as a means toward a greater end.
God doesn’t delight in punishment. God delights in his children, and wants nothing more than for them to be reconciled to him and to each other.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
My Gospel Declares...
Passage: Romans 2:1-16
One of my favorite Simpsons moments takes place in an annual Halloween episode. The Simpsons family is vacationing in Morocco, where they explore a local bazaar. Homer is irresistibly drawn to a severed monkey’s paw which, according to the shopkeeper, will grant four wishes. However, there’s a downside. Here it is, in the shopkeeper’s own words:
Shopkeeper: Take this object, but beware it carries a terrible curse!
Homer: Ooh, that's bad.
Shopkeeper: But it comes with a free frogurt!
Homer: That's good.
Shopkeeper: The frogurt is also cursed.
Homer: That's bad.
Shopkeeper: But you get your choice of toppings.
Homer: That's good!
Shopkeeper: The toppings contain potassium benzoate.
[Homer looks puzzled]
Shopkeeper: ...That's bad.
By the time you get to Lord’s Day 5 of the Catechism, you can’t tell anymore what’s good news and bad news. The authors have take such pains to establish the human need for salvation that you can’t help wondering if you’re ever going to hear the gospel. As it turns out, the Catechism isn’t reinventing the wheel here. The Gospel writers and Apostles of the Bible do much the same thing. The New Testament book that summarizes the Gospel most comprehensively is Paul’s Letter to the Romans. Paul begins his Gospel presentation precisely the way the authors of the Catechism begin theirs: with an outline of God’s expectations and our failure to measure up. Bad news. In this case, argue the tenets of our faith, you can’t have the good news without the bad. Paul says, “According to my Gospel, God will hold all people accountable for their sins.” This is an essential component of the good news – human accountability. It becomes bad news if accountability is all you’ve got. If in fact there will come a day when your laundry list of lies, infidelities and knives in the back will be aired and you’ll have to pay the price. How does it become good news? If, when the list has been read and the sentence meted out someone else has already paid. This, says Paul, is my Gospel. It’s ours, too.
One of my favorite Simpsons moments takes place in an annual Halloween episode. The Simpsons family is vacationing in Morocco, where they explore a local bazaar. Homer is irresistibly drawn to a severed monkey’s paw which, according to the shopkeeper, will grant four wishes. However, there’s a downside. Here it is, in the shopkeeper’s own words:
Shopkeeper: Take this object, but beware it carries a terrible curse!
Homer: Ooh, that's bad.
Shopkeeper: But it comes with a free frogurt!
Homer: That's good.
Shopkeeper: The frogurt is also cursed.
Homer: That's bad.
Shopkeeper: But you get your choice of toppings.
Homer: That's good!
Shopkeeper: The toppings contain potassium benzoate.
[Homer looks puzzled]
Shopkeeper: ...That's bad.
By the time you get to Lord’s Day 5 of the Catechism, you can’t tell anymore what’s good news and bad news. The authors have take such pains to establish the human need for salvation that you can’t help wondering if you’re ever going to hear the gospel. As it turns out, the Catechism isn’t reinventing the wheel here. The Gospel writers and Apostles of the Bible do much the same thing. The New Testament book that summarizes the Gospel most comprehensively is Paul’s Letter to the Romans. Paul begins his Gospel presentation precisely the way the authors of the Catechism begin theirs: with an outline of God’s expectations and our failure to measure up. Bad news. In this case, argue the tenets of our faith, you can’t have the good news without the bad. Paul says, “According to my Gospel, God will hold all people accountable for their sins.” This is an essential component of the good news – human accountability. It becomes bad news if accountability is all you’ve got. If in fact there will come a day when your laundry list of lies, infidelities and knives in the back will be aired and you’ll have to pay the price. How does it become good news? If, when the list has been read and the sentence meted out someone else has already paid. This, says Paul, is my Gospel. It’s ours, too.
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