Tuesday, December 24, 2013

...and Beginnings

Passage: Revelation 21

A friend of mine had parents who lived in Johannesburg, South Africa.  On a visit to my friend’s home, he observed a certain behavior in his mother.  Whenever his kids were playing outside, she couldn’t relax in the house.  She kept jumping up and looking out the windows.  Periodically she would even, without warning, dart out the front door and walk around the house.  When he asked her about it, she said, “I just have to make sure the kids are safe.”  She was used to living in a place in which there was always the possibility of a home invasion, armed burglary, or kidnapping.  Her house had bars on the windows and an iron perimeter fence.  In her hometown, nobody’s kids played outside unattended.  It just wasn’t safe. 

When you live in place where violence, economic inequality, oppression and abuse are constant realities you develop certain instincts.  You become hyper-vigilant.  Suspicious.  Self-protective.  You stop being conscious that you’re even reacting to perceived threats.  You believe this is just normal life. 
We are so accustomed to living in a world shaped by the presence of corruption, evil and death that we are no longer aware of the way these realities have shaped us.  And we can’t imagine a world without them.  But deep down we long for better.  And imbedded in our collective memories is an awareness of a better reality.  The world for which we were created was one without tears, mourning, crying or death. 

And God’s promise has always been to bring us back into such a world.  The point of bringing this world and its history to an end is to bring about something new.  At the end of the Book of Revelation we’re given a glimpse of this new thing.  John writes,
Then I saw “a new heaven and a new earth,” for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away…
The Greek word we’ve translated “new” is kainos, which means, “previously unknown”.  To a world full of people who have only ever known an existence lived in the shadow of death, God promises a completely new kind of existence.  One free of pain, tragedy, loss and fear.  One in which humans live in constant communion with God, their Creator and Father; and with Jesus Christ, their Savior and the lover of their souls.  John describes this second Advent, the New Creation, as a wedding.  The moment we’ve all been waiting for.  Our eternal union with the one for whom we were made; the one who makes us holy and whole. 

The New Heaven and New Earth are so far beyond what anyone has experienced that John describes them mainly in terms of what isn’t there:
no more death or mourning or crying or pain. 
But also:
I did not see a temple in the city, because the Lord God Almighty and the Lamb are its temple.
And:
The city does not need the sun or the moon to shine on it, for the glory of God gives it light, and the Lamb is its lamp.
And finally this detail:
On no day will its gates ever be shut, for there will be no night there. 
In this New Creation there will be no need for locks; bars; motion sensors; Homeland Security.  There will be no adversaries; no terrorists; no thieves or abusers or murderers.  Only the constant presence of God.  And the company of all God’s children, gathered together from every time and every place. 


If the normal places you go for hope, love, joy and peace aren’t cutting it this year, look ahead.  Take in John’s testimony of the fresh, new, “previously unknown” thing God has in store for you.  Be willing to defer the fulfillment of your wishes and dreams just a little longer.  Jesus Christ, the one who makes all things new, is not slow in keeping his promises.  He is not far off.  He himself testifies,  Look, I am coming soon! My reward is with me, and I will give to each person according to what they have done.  I am the Alpha and the Omega, the First and the Last, the Beginning and the End. (Revelation 22:12-14)

Wednesday, December 18, 2013

Endings...

Passage: Revelation 20

When our first daughter was about two, she developed a routine every time we were out running errands in the car.  We’d get to the point at which we’d completed all our business.  And we’d turn in the direction of home.  Although very young, our daughter would perceive our change of direction.  She’d ask, “Where are we going?”  We’d reply, “Home.”  And she would immediately say, “I don’t want to go home.”  She didn’t want our trip to end. 

The Book of Revelation traces the trajectory of human history.  In references to Creation and the Serpent, John brings us back to the beginning of our story.  Throughout the book John chronicles Creation’s struggle with the effects of human sin, as well as the history-long battle between God’s enemy, Satan, and God’s people.  And at the close of Revelation John brings the story arch to its conclusion.  Humanity’s traverse of this world is finite.  It will end.
John describes forces that don’t want the journey to end.  These forces include Satan, whose power is limited to this world, as well as those human individuals and systems that have derived their power from evil sources.  Revelation is full of violent and unsettling episodes – plagues; famines; earthquakes; wars.  John rightly identifies these as the demolition component of God’s master renovation plan.  In order for God’s new thing to come, the old has to go.  Completely.  The only way to pass securely, courageously, and peacefully into God’s new Creation is to trust God completely.  And our world is full of forces who will never trust God.  Who will insist on their way rather than his. 

In Revelation 16 John gives the account of God’s wrath being poured out on the earth in the form of seven bowls.  Three times in the chapter John states the response of the remnant of humanity – those who have resisted God’s anointed, Jesus Christ, and his way.  John says they, “cursed the God of heaven because of their pains and their sores, but they refused to repent of what they had done.”  In Revelation 20, John witnesses the natural end result of that posture toward God.  He says:
The sea gave up the dead that were in it, and death and Hades gave up the dead that were in them, and each person was judged according to what they had done. Then death and Hades were thrown into the lake of fire. The lake of fire is the second death.  Anyone whose name was not found written in the book of life was thrown into the lake of fire. (Rev. 20:13-15)

We don’t like the idea that the end of history means a decisive end to certain people.  There is intuitive appeal to the Universalist idea that all people will be given new life in God’s new Creation.  What the Bible consistently maintains is that there are certain people who, no matter how many chances they’re given, will not repent.  That is, turn from their way and accept God’s way.  And ultimately, God insists on having his way.  It’s his prerogative.  He’s God. 
CS Lewis deals with the dilemma of unrepentance in The Problem of Pain.  He argues,

“In the long run the answer to all those who object to the doctrine of hell is itself a question: “What are you asking God to do?” To wipe out their past sins and, at all costs, to give them a fresh start, smoothing every difficulty and offering every miraculous help? But He has done so, on Calvary. To forgive them? They will not be forgiven. To leave them alone? Alas, I am afraid that is what He does.”

In the end God gives people what they want.  If they want life without him, they’ll get it. 
Our natural reaction to the end of this world is resistance.  We automatically think of everything we stand to lose.  And when we try to picture the future God has in store for us, we can’t.  We’re faced with the prospect of trading everything familiar and cherished for an unknown commodity.  But everything we know and love in this life is a refuge – a refuge from a world that is not the way we know it should be.  The unknown thing that God is bringing is, in fact, Creation the way it was meant to be.  As the end approaches, God poses us with this question: How much do you trust me?  Is it enough to go my way, even though you can’t see where we’re going?  Do you trust me to conclude this part of your story in a way that is ultimately good?  If you’ve never trusted God, you will never tolerate the end that God brings.  If you trust God, then when the inevitable end approaches, you will welcome it. 


Thursday, December 5, 2013

Love Letter


This Advent our church is working through Revelation.  We’re all about Christmas cheer.  It’s easy to lose sight of the message at the heart of this powerful love letter to the church.  All of our ham-handed attempts to parse out the book’s symbols and pin down its apocalyptic events distract us from its most important parts.  Revelation is a letter first and foremost to a group of first century congregations struggling to maintain their identity in a world that wants to extinguish their faith.  More broadly it’s a reminder to the church in every time and place of who we are and to whom we belong. 

Many commentators and casual readers have mistakenly imposed a chronological division between the first three chapters and the rest of Revelation.  It’s assumed that chapters 2 and 3 address specific congregations in John’s immediate historical context, while everything that follows takes place at the end of time.  In fact John’s vision pertains to the continuous advance of the Kingdom of God, which occurs over the whole course of human history.  Much of what John describes throughout the book is happening to the First Century church within the Roman Empire; much of it is happening now, and has happened in all the intervening centuries.  There isn’t a future moment at which the dragon will go war against the church.  He’s been at war with God’s people from the beginning of time.  There isn’t a future moment at which a beastly representative of evil will lie and blaspheme.  The Roman emperor was such a beast; and human powerbrokers have been agents of evil for all our history.  Christians in every time and place profess the Lordship of Jesus only at great cost.

And as we read through the Lord Jesus’ messages to each of the seven churches in Revelation 2 and 3, we can’t help but hear strains of his message to our churches, too – whether your church is a megachurch in an affluent suburb, or a small congregation in a struggling urban neighborhood.  Of the seven churches, the one I most identify with is the church in Ephesus.  Jesus addresses the Ephesians as a group of committed, hard-working Christians.  In spite of mounting social and political pressure, these believers have kept the faith.  They have proclaimed the name of Jesus Christ in their words and actions.  They have adhered to right doctrine and have rejected leaders who try to preach a gospel other than the one they received from the apostles.  This is a church that is doing everything by the books.

And yet somewhere along the line they exchanged their love for duty.  The passion of the gospel and the fire of the Holy Spirit have cooled as everyday life has taken over.  The hard work of learning the right answers and doing the right things has become the glue that holds them together and the fuel that drives their fidelity.  Somewhere along the line they’ve forgotten the real reason for all the risk and sacrifice: love.  God’s limitless love for them, embodied in Jesus Christ.  And their love for him, the one who gave up his life so that they might live.  At the heart of the Christian faith is not duty, but love.  Jesus urges his bride: Do not forsake your first love.  Return to the things you did at first

How did you spend the time with your husband when you were first dating?  What did you do for your wife when she was still your girlfriend?  What was your emotional response to your spouse's arrival back in the days when she or he was your future spouse?  Back when your passion was unbridled, how did you express it?

When the love of Jesus Christ first became real to you, what did you feel?  And how did you respond?  Think back, way back.  Past the years of dutiful service and anxious rule-keeping and passions cooled by the daily requirements of daily life.  Rediscover the delight of joy of being the apple of someone’s eye; the love of someone who’s committed their life to you; the peace of the embrace of someone who will never let you go; the hope of being reunited with the one you were meant for.  Come back to your first love. 


Friday, November 29, 2013

Advents

Christmas and Advent constitute the busiest season for just about everyone in the church business.  That said, I still agree with Andy Williams – it’s the most wonderful time of the year.  The ways we work to beautify our homes and neighborhoods; the generosity we demonstrate to friends, family members, and strangers in need; the potential for meaningful connection and even reconciliation with our closest loved ones.  Even at its worst, this season embodies our hearts’ longing and hope that the world can be made right – the possibility of life the way it’s meant to be.  Yet even at its best, this season cannot hold a candle to the ultimate peace and restoration God has in store.

During Advent we remember and celebrate God’s greatest gift thus far: the birth of a baby called Immanuel – “God with us”.  This baby embodied God’s promises: to reconcile the human race to himself; to once and for all atone for our careless and selfish actions; to heal our broken hearts and bodies and world.  In a word, to bring heaven to earth.  The baby grew up to be the man, Jesus – “The Lord saves”.  In his presence sick people were made well; insignificant people were given significance; and people on the margins were told unequivocally that God loved them.  Jesus equipped and inspired a group of followers to continue this work.  The disciples grew into a worldwide movement which, empowered by the Holy Spirit, continued to heal the broken, welcome the marginalized, and extend God’s love to everyone.  The church grew because it embodied hope and wholeness – a little taste of the way life is meant to be.  At its best, this is what the church continues to embody.


But we’re imperfect.  And the world is imperfect.  Which can only mean one thing: The work that God began at the first Advent isn’t done.  The God who comes to us in the person of Jesus Christ promises that one day he will make all things new.  One day heaven will come to earth.  This moment is predicted in the Book of Revelation.  Revelation – arguably the least accessible book of the New Testament – is a message to the church.  Both the church at the end of the 1st century, which struggled under intense persecution and lamented the brokenness of a world torn by plagues, wars, and natural disasters.  And the church today, struggling to maintain a posture of hope and expectation when the best human efforts to provide peace and basic human flourishing have failed.  The message of Revelation is this: The God who governs the universe hasn’t given up on our world.  Even now God is moving human history toward the second Advent and the renewal of all things.  The Jesus who first appeared as a baby will come back to us as a King, claiming his victory over the forces of injustice, abuse, sickness and hunger and despair.  Let your celebration of first Advent anticipate the second by bringing a taste of this victory – hope, love, joy and peace – to the world around you.  

Wednesday, November 13, 2013

The Beginning of Wisdom

Passage: Psalm 111

If the Old Testament proverbs present the practical wisdom of God’s wisest people, the Psalms provide the theological foundation for that wisdom.  Walter Brueggemann identifies in the Psalms an overview of the order woven through our world and the character of the one who ordered it.  The Psalms argue, again and again, that the heart of wisdom lies in knowing the heart of God the Creator.  Brueggemann writes,
“[The psalms] are expressions of creation faith. They affirm that the world is a well-ordered, reliable, and life-giving system, because God has ordained it that way and continues to preside effectively over the process.  At the same time, there is a profound trust in the daily working of that system and profound gratitude to God for making it so.  Creation here is not a theory about how the world came to be. That is not how the Bible thinks about creation. It is rather an affirmation that God’s faithfulness and goodness are experienced as generosity, continuity, and regularity.  Life is experienced as protected space.  Chaos is not present to us and is not permitted a hearing in this well-ordered world.” (The Message of the Psalms, p.26)

As such, wisdom (from a biblical perspective) is not leveraging one’s strength or savvy to secure the best future for oneself. Instead it is living with a moment-by-moment awareness of one’s dependence on God; and submitting one’s every moment to God’s guidance and God’s provision.  This willingness to depend on God yields two results: first, an abiding sense of peace and gratitude based on the assurance of God’s presence and protection; second, a life focused not on individual priorities (personal prosperity and self-gratification) but on God’s priorities for all of creation.  Brueggemann adds:
“The Psalms assert that the creation finally is committed to and will serve the Creator.  The Psalms thus are anticipatory of what surely will be.  Strangely enough, they may serve as a point of criticism against the status quo, to assert that when the Creator’s way comes to fruition, the inadequate present arrangements will be overcome.” (Psalms, p.28)

The history and trajectory of American culture attests to the fact that a society governed primarily by self-interest eventually frays and unravels.  God persistently corrects his people’s worst instinct – namely, to live primarily for self.  And God compassionately redirects our attention to the needs of our families, communities, cities, and world.  True wisdom aligns our hearts with God's – a God whose priority is reconciliation; redemption; and restoration.  The author of Psalm 111 rightly places wisdom within a life that honors God and embraces God’s objectives.  As the author concludes, “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom…”

Friday, November 8, 2013

Getting from the First Part to the Second Part

Passage: Hebrews 9:1-15

The author of Hebrews goes to great lengths to describe the ways the Jewish religious system is completed in Jesus Christ.  In Hebrews 9 he talks about the two parts of the tabernacle.  The first part is called the “Holy Place”.  In it, God’s people purify themselves using sacred objects, rites and sacrifices.  By repeating the purification process, the people are made “holy”, that is set apart as belonging to God.  If they observe the rituals faithfully they maintain their status as the chosen people.  But the tabernacle has a second part: the “Most Holy Place”.  It’s the space in which, once a year, one specific priest represents all of God’s people before the very presence of God.  The first part of the tabernacle serves as preparation for the second part.  It’s the second part that humanity has always wished to enter – to commune with God face-to-face, the way we did in the beginning.  Yet this second part has always been, for the most part, off limits.

Until now, says the author of Hebrews.  Jesus Christ has changed all the rules.  Jesus has replaced the first part of the tabernacle.  His blood has replaced all the other sacrifices and rituals, purifying us once and for all.  Jesus makes every one of us holy enough to enter the very presence of God.  In Jesus God meets us face to face.

There’s one catch.  The author of Hebrews says,
…the Holy Spirit indicates that the way into the holy places is not yet opened as long as the first section is still standing  (which is symbolic for the present age). According to this arrangement, gifts and sacrifices are offered that cannot perfect the conscience of the worshiper…

His argument is this: as long as you continue to cling to some rite, sacrifice, or incantation to get you close to God, you’ll never enter the Most Holy Place.  The rituals that used to set us apart now serve as a barrier to intimacy with God.  The only way into God’s presence is to accept that you can’t do it on your own.  The only way into the second part of the tabernacle is to tear down the first.  Let go of the belief that you can earn God’s love or curry God’s favor.  Embrace instead the great High Priest and the new covenant – the one sealed in his own blood.  The Most Holy Place – the very presence of God – has come to us in the person of Jesus Christ.  

Friday, November 1, 2013

A Cloud of Anger


In my work as a counseling intern, and later as a pastor, I’ve worked with a number of people whose marriages were in trouble.  In many of these cases, one or both partners had become so embittered – by a past affair; by a pattern of neglect or abuse; by a single irritating quality that, repeated over decades, had become intolerable – that almost no amount of remediation could soften their hearts to the possibility of love.  It’s as though an impermeable cloud of anger had settled into the middle of the marriage.  And try as they might, the partners seeking reconciliation couldn’t break back into the affections of the other. 

In Lamentations 3, Jeremiah describes the heart of God as “wrapped with anger”.  He says God has “wrapped himself with a cloud so that no prayer can pass through.”
The people of Israel had spent many years deluded, thinking that God had to accept them because they were his chosen people.  When they finally realized the grievous way they’d neglected their relationship, it was too late.  God’s heart was closed to them, and they were on their own.

This is our fear, when we’ve neglected our relationship with God and abused his love.  That he has cut us off and wrapped himself with anger.  That our prayers fall on an impermeable cloud.
But God’s heart is no longer sealed off from us.  God refused to guard his heart.  In the person of Jesus Christ he burst through through the cloud.  The anger with which God had wrapped himself fell upon Jesus at the cross.  Jesus became “scum and garbage among the peoples”, suffering God’s anger and rejection on our behalf.  And now, because of what Jesus Christ did on our behalf, there will never again be a cloud between us and God.  Jesus is our direct line to the throne room of heaven.  He is our guarantee that God’s only response, when we return to him, is love. 


Wednesday, October 30, 2013

Special


The character at the center of the film Polish Wedding is the matriarch of a working-class immigrant family living in a suburb of Detroit.  The mother of five young-adult children, she is comfortable in her role as head of her household.  Her hard-working husband is devoted to her.  And she’s involved in a longtime affair with her boss.  At a certain point this boss points out that she holds herself in surprisingly high esteem for a low-paid cleaning lady.  She responds, “At home, I am queen.” And in that moment she realizes the truth.  To her boss she’s merely a plaything.  A disposable object who is nothing special.   She thinks of herself as a queen because her husband – the one at home while she’s out fooling around – has always treated her as his prize.

The Book of Lamentations begins at this very moment of recognition for God’s chosen people.  Jeremiah the prophet pours out his grief as his people are carried off to slavery in Babylon.  In the words of his lament Jeremiah captures the truth: Israel is a tiny nation in a world full of tiny nations.  And as is the lot of every tiny nation, Israel has become the plaything of a much more powerful empire. 

This is a devastating wake-up call for a nation that has always thought of itself as a crown jewel.  As the most important people on earth.  Given their numbers and their obvious vulnerability, why in the world would the Israelites think that they’re so special?

Because this is what God has always told them.  In Deuteronomy 7, God tells the Israelites that they are the object of his affection.  And he tells them why:
The Lord did not set his affection on you and choose you because you were more numerous than other peoples, for you were the fewest of all peoples. But it was because the Lord loved you and kept the oath he swore to your ancestors that he brought you out with a mighty hand and redeemed you from the land of slavery, from the power of Pharaoh king of Egypt. Know therefore that the Lord your God is God; he is the faithful God, keeping his covenant of love to a thousand generations of those who love him and keep his commandments. (Deuteronomy 7:7-9)

The Israelites are where they are because they’ve let God’s marvelous love go to their heads.  They’ve concluded, “God loves us because we’re so special.”  This assumption has led them to toy with God’s affection, and flirt with neighbors that seem a little more flashy and glamorous than their faithful, attentive, steady God.  Too late they’ve realized that to their substitute – their lover – sees them as a disposable object.

God doesn’t love them because they’re special.  They’re special because God loves them.  The thing is, in spite of their repeated infidelities, God never stops loving his people.  He continues to invite them to come back and be special again.  Through Jeremiah God says,
“You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. I will be found by you,” declares the Lord, “and will bring you back from captivity. I will gather you from all the nations and places where I have banished you,” declares the Lord, “and will bring you back to the place from which I carried you into exile.” (Jeremiah 29:13-14)


This is God’s invitation to all of us.  Stop trying to be special by proving you’re better than the people around you.  Stop believing that the only way you’ll be loved is by being more special than anyone else.  Discover anew that you are cherished by God – the object of his affection – and learn what it means to be special because he loves you.

Friday, October 25, 2013

Sure Thing

Passage: Jeremiah 42

I remember the first time I stuck my tongue on a piece of frozen metal.  My dad had warned me on some earlier occasion never to lick something metal if it was cold outside.  Growing up in Canada, this was a pertinent message.  There was a lot of cold metal lying around.  My dad said that, without fail, my tongue would stick to the metal and I’d lose skin when I pulled it off.  And it would hurt.  Every time.  My suffering would be inevitable.

Through the Prophet Jeremiah God warns his people of the inevitable.  They have seen the Babylonian Empire encroaching on their territory.  They are convinced that there’s no way they can stand up to the Babylonians.  So they come up with a plan.  They’ll flee to Egypt, and find solace in the shelter of another pagan superpower.  God sends a clear message: If you go to Egypt, you will die.  Does God have something specific against Egypt?  No.  What God has something against is his people’s continued adherence to a strategy that never works: looking to an earthly power for ultimate security.  God says, “If you stay put, you will see what I’m capable of.  Trust me to protect you.”  He goes on, “If you go to Egypt, you will die.  Why?  Because they can’t protect you.”  If you depend on a person, political entity, or military force to preserve your life, you will be disappointed because it will fail.  Maybe not the first time, but eventually.  Inevitably.  There’s only one sure thing, says God.  Trust in me.


So it is with us.  We persistently go back to the same people and same places for comfort, security, and reassurance.  Inevitably each of those things will fail to do what deep down we hope it will: keep pain, infirmity and death at bay.  God says, “If you seek shelter in that thing, you’ll die.”  What’s the alternative?  To find our shelter and solace in the one who faced death and won.  The God who promised to deliver Israel if they’d just listen; the God who came to us in person to deliver on his promise.  Our one sure thing.  Remain in him; he will build you up; he will deliver you not only from the momentary and fleeting troubles of this life, but from death itself.  

Wednesday, October 23, 2013

Inside Out


The leader of a training seminar I once attended talked about narcissistic personality disorder.  This is a condition whereby an individual is so pathologically dishonest that they believe their own lies and create an alternate reality in their minds.  They become so convinced of this internal reality that the people around them become convinced of it, too.  The instructor went on to say that narcissists appear with disproportionate regularity in the following four professions: politics; entertainment; corporate leadership; and ministry.  One of the things that guarantees success in each of these fields is selling a constituency on your view of reality – particularly if your view is more optimistic than that of your competitors. 

In Jeremiah 14 the prophet of God is surrounded by narcissists – people who are convinced God has spoken to them.  And people who claim that God’s forecast is rosy.  Jeremiah on the other hand has heard dire predictions from God – threats of impending doom if God’s people don’t change their ways.  Who wants to hear that?  Jeremiah’s competitors get their own TV programs and radio spots.  Jeremiah gets tossed out on his ear.  The problem, of course, is that Jeremiah’s telling the truth.  Jeremiah’s predicting a coming storm that will wipe his people off the face of the map unless they prepare for it.  He has what they need to correct their course and survive.  But they can’t hear it for the noise of the narcissists. 

We have become a society of narcissists.  In a recent address, Tim Keller observed that we increasingly attribute our problems to forces outside us rather than recognize the internal impulses that lead us astray.  We say, “I’m not the problem.  It’s everyone else that’s the problem.”  We refuse to listen to any voice that implies we need to change.  Keller says, “If all your problems are external, you’re hopeless.  Why? Because you can’t change those things.”  If, on the other hand, you accept what the Bible teaches – that is, that the root of our problem is the sin that has infected each one of us – then there’s hope. The antidote to narcissism is also the antidote to our problems: the Holy Spirit of God.  At Pentecost, the Spirit descends in power on those who believe in Jesus Christ.  The Spirit continues to be the agent of transformation and renewal – of our hearts and minds; and of the world around us. 


But the Spirit cannot complete his work in us if we insist the problem isn’t us.  We have to accept the Spirit’s testimony: you’re not right. So doing we can receive the rest his message: I can make you right.  We have to tune out the voices that simply reinforce our internal realities – that say, “You’re fine – it’s the rest of the world that has a problem”.   And tune in to the voices that tell us we need to change from the inside out.  We need a voice from the outside, and a power from the outside, to come and transform us from the inside.  Be willing to hear what you don’t want to hear.  And receive the one power that’s bigger than your problems.  Let the Spirit transform your inner reality, and bring you into God’s reality.  

Thursday, September 26, 2013

The God Who Saves


In Isaiah 44:9-20 the prophet describes a man cutting a piece of wood in two.  The man painstakingly shapes one half of the wood into a beautiful image.  He kneels before the image and prays to it.  He then proceeds to light the remaining half on fire and roast hot dogs and marshmallows over it.  Kosher hot dogs, presumably.  This, says Isaiah, illustrates the folly of idolatry.  People repeatedly turn to the fleeting, flawed and failing stuff of earth for salvation.  None of it – no created thing – can save.  In the Hebrew Old Testament, the word pesel (“idol”) is almost invariably paired with the word bal, which is often translated “worthless” or “vain”, but means, literally, “not”.  It’s a word that evokes an absence or failure.  In other words, God identifies all the substitutes to which people turn as “not-God”.  In his next chapter, Isaiah adds this word:
…there is no God apart from me, a righteous God and a Savior; there is none but me.
Nothing can do what God does.

This is an unpopular stance.  At a sentimental level we don’t like it because we don’t want to admit that the objects of most of our ambitions and affections will ultimately get us nowhere.  At a cultural or political level it’s offensive to claim that only one deity bearing only one name is the one route to eternal salvation.  It’s exclusive and elitist.
Unless it’s true. 

Centuries after Isaiah recorded God’s controversial words, the disciples of Jesus find themselves embroiled in more controversy.  On their way out of church, Peter and John are accosted by a panhandler.  The man is disabled; when he asks the apostles for money, they say, “We have none.  But we can give you something else: in the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, walk.”  The man does so.  News of the healing spreads; the religious authorities grab Peter and John and demand to know “by whose name or by what power” the healing occurred.  Peter says,
It is by the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, whom you crucified but whom God raised from the dead, that this man stands before you healed.
Then he adds,
Salvation is found in no one else, for there is no other name under heaven given to mankind by which we must be saved. (Acts 4:10, 12)
No other name than Jesus – the only Jesus of Nazareth, risen and ascended.  Jesus – “Yeshua” – whose name means, the Lord saves

At the heart of Christianity is this conviction: there is no other name by which we can be saved.  Exclusive?  Of course.  But if Jesus is indeed the embodiment of the one true God, then it’s a waste of time looking for your salvation anywhere else.  Money; sex; food; politics?  Isaiah says, “Use your head.  Each one of these things is as temporal as you are.  How can you be saved by something that, like you, will one day be reduced to its constituent elements?”  Turn to the only one – the only name – that can truly save.  The only one who conquered death and promises to share his resurrection.  Jesus, whose very name is salvation.  

Tuesday, September 24, 2013

Peace and Security in My Lifetime


One of the most tragic parts of Isaiah is the account of King Hezekiah’s illness and recovery.  Hezekiah is described as the last God-fearing king of Judah.  His reign falls a few short years before the remnant of God’s people is conquered by Babylon and carted off as slaves.  Earlier in his ministry Hezekiah stood on the walls of Jerusalem watching the Assyrians build siege works around the entire city.  Hezekiah trusted God rather than acquiesce to the demands of his pagan adversary; and God sent a heavenly army to deliver his servant. 
As an old man, Hezekiah is again approached by the emissaries of a pagan superpower.  Rather than send them packing, Hezekiah invites them in and parades the fruits of his accomplishments before them.  He’s competing in the big leagues – and feeling pretty good about himself.

Later, God sends his own emissary – Isaiah – to Hezekiah’s palace.  Like a good lawyer, Isaiah asks a question to which he already knows the answer: “Who were those men?  And what did you show them?”  Hezekiah responds, casually, “They were from a distant land.  I think they said, ‘Babylon’.  And I showed them everything.” 
Isaiah says, “That’s exactly what they’re going to take the next time they come knocking.  We aren’t like them.  You didn’t get all this because of your size or strength.  You got it because God gave it to you.  But you know what?  You want to play in their league so badly?  You will.  And you’ll lose.  Your own sons will be mutilated and enslaved by your friend, the king of Babylon.”
And here’s the kicker.  Hezekiah says,
The word of the Lord is good, because at least there will be peace and security in my lifetime

How often do we make the same calculation?  Yes, I’m ignoring this aspect of my kids’ behavior; yes, I’m mismanaging this part of my finances; yes, I’m neglecting my marriage; yes, I’m militating against this necessary change in my city or in my church…
But at least there will be peace and security in my lifetime.
To hell with the next generation.  Who cares if my peace comes at the cost of my descendants’ peace?  As long as I don’t have to give up what I want, I’m happy. 

God expects more of us.  The life God offers us comes at a cost.  Typically the cost is some of our comfort; some of our security; some of our happiness now - sometimes more; sometimes less.  God demands that we make these sacrifices in order to secure a better future – for descendants that we know and love, and for future generations that we will know only in glory. 
In Philippians, the Apostle Paul describes a king who is everything that Hezekiah failed to be:  the Messiah, Jesus, who gave up all of his peace and security to bring peace and security to the world.  Paul says,
Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves, not looking to your own interests but each of you to the interests of the others.  In your relationships with one another, have the same mindset as Christ Jesus:
Who, being in very nature God,
    did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage;
 rather, he made himself nothing
    by taking the very nature of a servant…


In exchange for our own peace here and now, God offers us ultimate comfort; ultimate security; ultimate fulfillment.  Don’t settle for peace and security in your lifetime.  Militate for shalom – God’s restoration of all things for all time.    

Thursday, September 19, 2013

Unfinished Thoughts on God's Justice and Our Indignation


When people react with anger and indignation toward those passages of the Old Testament dealing with God’s judgment on certain people, I wonder on whose behalf they are indignant.  The rhetoric typically goes like this: “How could God will the violent deaths of all those innocent people?”  One flaw underlying this rhetoric is the assumption that the people who suffer God’s wrath are innocent. 

But there’s a subtler flaw.  It’s this: the assumption that God cares less about people than we do.  In Jesus Christ, God turns our criticism back upon us by challenging us to put our money where our mouth is.  Jesus tells all those of us who are tempted to militate on behalf of all those anonymous “innocent” people instead to militate on behalf of the living, breathing people right in front of us.  Are you mad that people died in God-sanctioned battles years ago?  Then channel that anger into saving children from dying of worms and malnutrition right now.  Are you indignant that God lashed out against people he identified as his enemies?  Channel that indignation into loving your enemies and praying for those who persecute you.

Those of us who are incensed at God’s apparent insensitivity are reacting to our own insecurity that we are living in God’s good graces.  If God judged them, couldn’t he also judge me?  And how dare he?  If you’re just worried about yourself, then in fact you have reason to worry. 


If on the other hand you trust God’s grace, then you also trust God’s judgment.  Rather than blame God for being capricious and cruel, you celebrate God’s compassion.  And you embrace compassion as your response to a world full of people at dying right here, right now.  If you truly believe people are innocent, you should devote your life to saving them.  If you accept that none of us are innocent but rather objects of divine mercy, then all the more reason to save others in the very same way God saved you.  Indignation toward God is useless – whether you believe in him or not.  Compassionate action is the only productive response to a world whose brokenness seems indiscriminate.  But here’s the irony: Jesus teaches that when you respond to that brokenness with compassion, you will end up – even in spite of yourself – communing with the living God.    

Wednesday, September 18, 2013

Wasted Favor

Passage: Isaiah 26:7-15

The greatest obstacle to accessing the Old Testament is all the violence.  Christians and critics alike stumble over stories in which God sanctions the wholesale slaughter or displacement of Israel’s political enemies.  Many decide either to ignore those sections as aberrations, or to write off any biblical faith that considers these passages God’s word.
Among other commentators, the prophet Isaiah presents an explanation that is, albeit unpalatable to non-believers, at least consistent with the complete story the Bible tells.
Isaiah argues that God’s purpose is always to reveal his full goodness and glory to all humanity.  And that God’s goal for any person is to become a person of righteousness – a person who embraces God’s intended framework for human life.  This includes accepting God as Creator and Master as well as enjoying God as loving parent and companion.  Implicit to this is acknowledging that God’s way is better than ours, and submitting to God’s power and authority.

This is where we get hung up – and always have.  There have been and will be to the end of human history individuals and societies that cannot submit.  That would rather die than be ruled.  If in fact this were a godless world – one in which the only rulers were flawed and fallible fellow humans – then refusing to submit would be natural and reasonable.  If however the world was ruled by a loving and all-powerful God, then submission would be the only fitting response and the way to live with genuine peace and prosperity.  When God enters human space, people have two choices: God’s way, which ultimately leads to life; or their own way, which inevitably leads to death.  Isaiah and the other authors of the Old Testament argue that there is nothing unmerciful in God willing death upon those who have already chosen it. 

Isaiah, the historic nation of Israel, and the new nation of the church assume a world governed by an all-powerful and loving God.  Isaiah argues that if you embrace God as ruler and Father, you are in a unique position.  Those events that others would consider merely good fortune you see as gifts given by a gracious God.  Those events that others would consider unfortunate you accept as means by which God is guiding you and shaping your character.  Experiences of every kind make you more righteous – that is, bring you closer into step with God.  On the other hand, Isaiah argues, even good fortune is wasted on the wicked – that is, people who have rejected God and God’s ways.  Good things, let alone bad, are ineffective in convincing the wicked that God is real. 
The takeaway?  Trust the wisdom of Isaiah.  Believe that there is a God who is so great – and so loving – that we do best when we submit to him.  And live by a faith that trusts God’s hand in every experience – delightful and difficult. 

A note from a very old-fashioned confession of faith, the Heidelberg Catechism (Lord's Day 10):

27  Q.  What do you understand by the providence of God?

A.  Providence is the almighty and ever present power of God by which he upholds, as with his hand, heaven and earth and all creatures, and so rules them that leaf and blade, rain and drought, fruitful and lean years, food and drink, health and sickness, prosperity and poverty – all things, in fact, come to us not by chance but from his fatherly hand.

28  Q.  How does the knowledge of God's creation and providence help us?


A.  We can be patient when things go against us, thankful when things go well, and for the future we can have good confidence in our faithful God and Father that nothing will separate us from his love. All creatures are so completely in his hand that without his will they can neither move nor be moved.

Tuesday, September 17, 2013

Unguarded

Passage: Isaiah 25

Phillip Meyer’s novel The Son introduces Eli McCullough who, at age 13, is kidnapped by a band of Comanche and absorbed into their tribe.  The night Eli is taken, his home is surrounded by hostile marauders; while Eli and his brother attempt to mount a defense, his mother simply opens the door and lets the attackers in.  It’s as though she has resigned herself to the inevitable.  No man-made barrier will ever keep out death.  

This is the lesson that Isaiah repeats again and again.  Through the prophet, God warns his people against swallowing the wisdom of the day: the more property you hoard; the more weapons you amass; the higher walls you build, the safer you will be.  God tells his people that defending their lives by hoarding and killing will ultimately cost them everything.  The people whom God condemns most harshly are the rich and powerful – those who have bought the illusion that they can stave off death.
On the other hand, God is compassionate and conciliatory toward the poor – those who have no natural defenses and no recourse but one: to appeal to God himself.  Paradoxically, this is the pathway to life – a more peaceful and prosperous life now,  and for all eternity. 

God issues this radical imperative to his people: Live life unguarded.  At the same time God issues a radical promise:
On this mountain the Lord of hosts will make for all peoples a feast of rich food, a feast of well-aged wine, of rich food full of marrow, of aged wine well refined.
And he will swallow up on this mountain the covering that is cast over all peoples, the veil that is spread over all nations.
He will swallow up death forever; and the Lord God will wipe away tears from all faces, and the reproach of his people he will take away from all the earth, for the Lord has spoken.
God tells his people that he is the only fortress and defender they will ever need. 

Count yourself among God’s people today.  Think about the defenses you’ve put up.  The ways you’ve kept others at arm’s length.  The walls of property and privilege and pride that surround your heart.  Do they keep you safe?  Or do they simply keep you isolated?  God swallowed up death forever at the cross.  If you belong to him, nothing can take away what really matters.  

At a time in which the threat of death seemed imminent, Jesus told his disciples,
Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? And not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father. But even the hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear not, therefore; you are of more value than many sparrows. So everyone who acknowledges me before men, I also will acknowledge before my Father who is in heaven… (Matthew 10:29-32)
Try life unguarded.  Let God be your protection and your courage.  Experience the present and the future Isaiah predicts for everyone whom God has taken under his wing:

It will be said on that day,
    “Behold, this is our God; we have waited for him, that he might save us.
    This is the Lord; we have waited for him;
    let us be glad and rejoice in his salvation.”

Monday, September 9, 2013

Idols of Silver and Gold

Passage:Isaiah 2:6-22

Cormac McCarthy’s novel The Road chronicles the travels of a lone man and his young son across a decimated American landscape.  Some unnamed apocalypse has permanently blocked out the sun and laid to waste the natural world.  Humanity is on its last legs, subsisting on whatever preserved food can be scrounged from the ruined stores and cellars of a dead civilization.  In one passage McCarthy describes the man’s passage along a highway full of burned cars.  The shoulder is littered with debris – old laptops whose batteries have long since run out of juice; MP3 players and video game consoles; CDs and DVDs – the once-cherished trappings of a lost era, now useless junk devoid of any capacity to preserve and sustain life.

The prophet Isaiah depicts another apocalypse: the “Day of the LORD”.  The day on which God shows up in person and sets the world straight.  In his second chapter, Isaiah describes a humanity that has exchanged God for idols of silver and gold – cherished objects intended to give people significance and make life worth living.  When the real God shows up, these false gods are exposed for what they are: mere trinkets, devoid of any capacity to preserve and sustain life.  For the hapless idolators, there’s no recourse.  They’ve invested everything in a currency that is temporary and ultimately useless.  They flee before the coming refiner’s fire, tossing their junk out the car window as they go. 


What’s the currency of your life?  Where are you investing your time, your money, your emotion and your devotion?  Can those things sustain and preserve your life, or will they ultimately end up in a landfill or a fire or discarded at the side of the road?  God gives us the opportunity now to trade our idols of silver and gold, paper and plastic and pixels.  He will sustain your life now; and preserve your life forever.  God will never discard you or let you down.  Hold onto him.  

Thursday, September 5, 2013

Good Grief


About ten years ago I found myself in a music store in Grand Rapids, Michigan.  My wife and I had just moved from Toronto.  She, a church music director, was shopping for resources.  I, a relative non-musician, was killing time.  For lack of anything better to read, I picked up a book entitled, How to Teach Yourself the Bass Guitar.  My curiosity was piqued in part because, 12 months earlier, I had taught myself the bass guitar.  I decided to assess how well I’d done.  As I flipped through the first few pages, my curiosity was replaced with shock; then with sadness.  I discovered that I’d learned my instrument, from basic technique up, completely wrong.  I was grieved. 

And I had a choice to make.  I could forget that I’d ever opened that book, and go back to playing (albeit badly) in blissful ignorance.  Or I could start from scratch, and relearn the right way. 

In 2 Corinthians, the Apostle Paul addresses a church that has experienced grief.  Their grief was induced by a harsh letter Paul had written some time earlier.  A letter in which Paul confronted a number of what the Corinthians thought of as “normal” behaviors.  Behaviors that, it turned out, were killing their fellowship and eroding their faith.  The Corinthian church could have dismissed Paul’s criticism out of hand.  They could have said, “How dare you judge us?  How dare you suggest we’re doing something wrong?  How dare you say that God doesn’t just accept us as we are?  Change?  Forget it!”  Here in his second letter, Paul commends his church.  Why?  Because they didn’t say forget it.  They grieved.  They accepted the Apostle’s word of correction.  They repented, and started fresh.  Paul calls the Corinthians’ grief “good grief”.  That is, grief that rightly acknowledges something is wrong.  Laments damage done and time wasted.  And then turns around and accepts a new way. 

Don’t be afraid to acknowledge that you’ve gotten some stuff wrong.  If someone loves you enough to confront your errors, love them (and yourself) enough to receive the truth.  And trust that there’s still time to get it right.  We will all be confronted with our errors sooner or later.  Embrace the good grief now, while there’s still time to try a better way. 


Wednesday, September 4, 2013

Happiness

My last post was about Ecclesiastes, and the unhappiness that creeps in when we expect earth to afford us all the joys of heaven.  Here's Tim Keller on the pitfalls of treating happiness as an end in itself, and the secret to living with joy in a broken world.

Tuesday, September 3, 2013

Something New


In the opening scene of the Twilight Zone episode, “A Nice Place to Visit”, a petty crook named Rocky is shot by police.  He comes to in the presence of a genial, well-dressed man who introduces himself as Rocky’s guide.  Although suspicious, Rocky follows the man through a series of new surroundings: a luxurious penthouse suite; a fancy restaurant; a casino full of games Rocky wins and beautiful women who never leave his side.  It’s all his.  Rocky concludes that he has died and gone to heaven.  He can’t believe his good fortune.  But after a month of getting everything he wants, the novelty wears off.  Rocky is completely bored.  He goes to his guide, and says, “"If I gotta stay here another day, I'm gonna go nuts! I don't belong in Heaven, see? I want to go to the other place."  His guide laughs and says, “"Heaven? Whatever gave you the idea that you were in heaven? This is the other place!!"

The Book of Ecclesiastes is the musings of “the teacher” (thought by many to be King Solomon), a man of unsurpassed wisdom and insight.  Great, we say, give us the secret of life, oh wise one.  What does he start with?  Meaningless; meaningless; everything is meaningless!  During his lifetime, this teacher claims to have had access to everything the world has to offer.  He experiences everything we devote our lives to chasing after.  And he concludes, “Meh.”  The teacher writes, “I’ve tasted all the prosperity and pleasure of this world.  And I just long for something new.  There’s nothing new under the sun.”  

He expresses the pain of living in a world in which all things, no matter how good, come to an end.  And in the end, the best thing the world’s pain and pleasure can do for is is exactly the same thing: whet our appetites for something new. Another place.  The good stuff of this life goes bad when we expect it to make this place heaven.  Burdened with those expectations, every good thing has the potential to become miserable.
The teacher longs for something new.  Something unexpected that breaks the rules and hints at a new reality.  


The descendants of the teacher see this very thing, centuries later.  A man comes to earth who bends the rules of reality.  He heals sick people.  He feeds thousands.  He turns water into wine.  He raises the dead.  When this broken world tries to bury the new and retain the old, this new one rises from the grave.  Jesus Christ is the new thing that ushers in a new reality.  At the center of the new reality is the promise of renewal and eternal life.  Jesus invites everyone to join his new reality.  Life in his new reality is life free of the fear of time running out and bodies wearing out.  The promise of renewal and eternal life brings with it the possibility of living for something beyond the now.  The good things of this life can be enjoyed without the added pressure of having to make life worth living.  There’s something more, and something better – something new – still to come.  

Saturday, August 31, 2013

Walking in the Truth


Favoritism is regularly prohibited in the New Testament.  How strange, then, that in his third letter John commends one member of his congregation while condemning another.  Gaius, the recipient of the letter, gets top grades from John for welcoming and accommodating traveling Christians.  Then there’s Diotrophes.  According to John, Diotrophes:
“likes to be first”;
“spreads malicious nonsense”;
“refuses to welcome other believers”.
Not very charitable of John to parade Diotrephes’ faults - not only to Gaius, but to the whole church in perpetuity. 
But look: the point isn’t that Gaius is good and Diotrephes is bad.  Or even that John likes one and dislikes the other.  John’s goal in writing each of his letters is to establish what it means to have true faith in Jesus Christ, and what it looks like to have a life transformed by faith in Christ.  

In his address to Gaius John says,
I have no greater joy than to hear that my children are walking in the truth.
For John, “walking in the truth” is most evident in love – not just for friends and family members, but also for neighbors and strangers.  In the early church, love was made concrete through the ethic of hospitality: feeding and clothing people in need; expanding one’s table to include visitors and newcomers; and providing accommodations for traveling Christians.  These were the indicators that the love of Jesus had really made its way into the heart of a believer and become the heart of a believing community.  John has to point out that some in his church have caught on, and some are still learning.  It’s his job as church leader to honestly assess how his students are progressing on the journey toward Christlikeness. 


Those of us aspiring to be followers of Jesus Christ need to evaluate our progress.  The best indication is not our knowledge of the Bible or our theological insight.  It’s how well our lives demonstrate the love of Jesus.  “Walking in the truth”, in our case as in John’s first century congregation, is this: embracing visitors and newcomers; feeding the hungry; befriending the friendless; making more space at our tables; making room for people who need a place to rest.  Not just opening our minds to the truth, but opening our lives to people who need to experience it.