Die to Self to Gain True Life

[In this Sunday’s sermon we’ll consider a key turning point in the Gospel of Mattew: Jesus tells His disciples for the first time that He will be put to death, and will rise again. He then commands His disciples similarly to take up the cross, to die to self, so that they might find true life. This devotion is taken from a sermon preached in 1999 on the parallel passage in Mark 8. Ponder and pray over our Lord’s words, and petition Him so to work on Sunday that we might follow Him wholeheartedly, and thereby become what He created us to be – Coty]

And Jesus went on with his disciples to the villages of Caesarea Philippi. And on the way he asked his disciples, “Who do people say that I am?” And they told him, “John the Baptist; and others say, Elijah; and others, one of the prophets.” And he asked them, “But who do you say that I am?” Peter answered him, “You are the Christ.” And he strictly charged them to tell no one about him.And he began to teach them that the Son of Man must suffer many things and be rejected by the elders and the chief priests and the scribes and be killed, and after three days rise again. And he said this plainly. And Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him. But turning and seeing his disciples, he rebuked Peter and said, “Get behind me, Satan! For you are not setting your mind on the things of God, but on the things of man.” (Mark 8:27-33)

Think about what Peter and Jesus are saying here: Peter says: “Jesus is the Messiah; He can’t be killed by the Jewish leaders.” But Jesus says: “Because I am the Messiah, I must be killed by the Jewish leaders. The role of the Messiah is not what you think. The Messiah comes into the world to die.” . . .

34 And He summoned the multitude with His disciples, and said to them, “If anyone wishes to come after Me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow Me. 35 “For whoever wishes to save his life shall lose it; but whoever loses his life for My sake and the gospel’s shall save it. 36 “For what does it profit a man to gain the whole world, and forfeit his soul? 37 “For what shall a man give in exchange for his soul? (Mark 8:34-37)

Jesus here extends that principle to all of his disciples. What is true of the master is true of the disciples also. Jesus must die in order to become what God intended; his followers must die also, they too must take up a cross, they too must lose themselves in order to become what God intends them to be.

What does Jesus mean by these expressions: “deny himself. . . take up his cross . . . lose his life for My sake and the gospel’s . . . forfeit his soul”?

Through the last two millennia these expressions have been misunderstood time and again. Some have interpreted them to mean we should inflict pain on ourselves, and thus become more righteous. Living in a culture that goes to great lengths to avoid all types of pain, our particular temptation is rather different. We are tempted to interpret this in such a way that it applies to other people, but not ourselves. We might say that this means, “You must be willing to die physically for me, rather than deny me, when your life is threatened.” So theoretically we’re all willing to make the good confession like Cassie Bernall at Columbine High; but probably none of us here this morning will ever be in that particular position. So that’s a nice, safe way to interpret the verse.

But Jesus here is saying something that affects all of us, not only those who face intense persecution. And he certainly is not telling us to inflict pain on ourselves purposefully. What is he saying?

One key to understanding this passage is to recognize (as noted in the NIV textual footnote) that the same Greek word is used for both “life” and “soul” in verses 35-37. This is the word which is more commonly translated “soul;” it is not the usual word for “life,” for life in contrast to death. Instead, this word emphasizes your individual life, your particular needs and wants, what makes you you. The difference between these two words comes out in John 10:10-11, where Jesus says:

I came that they might have life, and might have it abundantly.  I am the good shepherd; the good shepherd lays down His life for the sheep.

In verse 10, “life” is the usual word; Jesus came to make alive those who are spiritually dead. He contrasts life with death. But in verse 11, Jesus says the good shepherd lays down his life — that is, his “soul,” all that he is, his personal self, his wants and desires — he lays down all this for his sheep. That is the idea in Mark 8.

So in Mark 8:34-37 Jesus says:

“If you want to follow Me, you must first deny yourself, and take up your cross — you must die to yourself; only then can you truly follow Me. 35 “For if you want to hold on to what makes you you in this world, you shall never become what God intends you to be; but if you give up what you think makes you you for My sake and the gospel’s, you shall become what God intends you to be. 36 “For what does it profit you to gain everything the world has to offer and to actualize what you think you should be, if you then forfeit what your Creator intends you to be? For what shall you give in exchange for the very thing that truly makes you you, the essence of who you are?

Jesus himself is headed toward a physical death – and then a resurrection to a glorious new life in a new body. Just so, He tells us to die to self – so that we can become what God intends us to be, perfect in Him.

The Clarity of Scripture and Postmodernism

[The following is an excerpt from “Is the Doctrine of Claritas Scripturae Still Relevant Today?” by D.A. Carson. Originally published in 1997, it was republished recently as chapter 5 of Carson’s Collected Writings on Scripture (Crossway, 2010). This is heavy going at points – but stick with it; you’ll benefit both from his analysis of what led to much in our present culture, and from his preliminary response to challenges to Scripture’s clarity – Coty]

Although “postmodernism” is now being applied to many areas of Western culture, at heart it pertains to epistemology. The rise of the Enlightenment, connected as it is with Cartesian thought, assured most Western intellectuals during the last three and a half centuries that objective truth could be discovered by unfettered human reason, that the best approach to doing so was bound up with foundationalism and rigorous method, that such truth was ahistorical and acultural, and that despite enormous difficulties and acknowledged differences of opinion, the discovery and articulation of such trans-cultural truth was the summum bonum of all rational and scientific enterprise. Over the centuries, cracks developed in this structure, but in large measure the structure held in most circles of Western higher education until a couple of decades ago. Gradually the Western world became more empirically pluralistic, lost many of its moorings in the foundational cultural presuppositions of Judaeo-Christian faith, became more secularistic (which permits lots of scope for religion so long as it is privatized and of little influence in the public discourse), and, in this century, increasingly committed itself to philosophical naturalism.

But now there has come about a shift in epistemology. In Germany this developed from the late 1930s to the 1960s, when the new hermeneutic became instrumental in moving the locus of meaning from the author to the text to the reader, and the model that describes the interpretive process became a hermeneutical circle. In France, inferences drawn from the fledgling discipline of linguistics developed by Ferdinand de Saussure came to be labeled deconstruction, with its various shadings (Derrida, Foucault, de Man, Lyotard) and its profound suspicion of “totalization.” In America, these developments developed into “radical hermeneutics” and were not only applied to central problems in theology but often shifted from the individual interpreter to the autonomy of the interpretive community.

The net effect of these developments is profound. In law, history, literature, theology, the philosophy of science, and much else besides, many of the leading younger scholars (and some not quite so young) are profoundly committed to the view that there is no such thing as public, objective, culture-transcending truth. All interpretations are necessarily constrained by the individual and/or the interpretive community to which he or she belongs. Texts are “open”; they do not convey one truth, but many truths, polyvalent meanings; the only heresy is the view that there is such a thing as heresy. Moreover, these developments, though not universal (history is always messy), have now reached through the media into the public marketplace. Millions who have never heard any form of the word postmodern are nevertheless postmodern in their epistemological approaches, because of the influences of the media. Many a scientist and technician, epistemologically still modernist in their own disciplines, are postmodernist in just about every other domain.

What we must see is the revolutionary nature, epistemologically speaking, of these proposals. By and large, children of the Enlightenment, i.e., epistemological modernists, found little reason to challenge claritas scripturae [that is, the doctrine that Scripture is clear]. So great was their confidence in reason, so deep their commitment to public and universal truth, that it was easier to doubt Scripture’s authority, inspiration, truthfulness, effectiveness, and power than it was to doubt its essential perspicuity. Reason could always find out what it truly meant. But that perspective is rapidly changing. If texts have no univocal meaning, still less their author’s meaning, it is far from clear what claritas scripturae might mean. In the epistemological universe of Luther and Calvin (and of the Middle Ages too, for that matter), the God of the Bible knows everything, and has revealed some things. Human beings come to know some small part of what God truly and exhaustively knows through the revelation that he has given. The question at issue is whether that revelation is “clear” or needs some special illumination or magisterium to comprehend it and make it known. In the epistemological universe of modernism, God may or may not exist, but so confident is the scholar of reason and intellectual effort and so assured is the view that there is public truth to pursue, that there is little sense in doubting claritas scripturae. But in the epistemological world of postmodernism, where reason is a culturally constrained phenomenon, where interpreters are culture-bound, where texts are polyvalent, where claims to universal interpretations are viewed as intrinsically manipulative and therefore evil, where language is perceived to be not something we use (“logocentrism”) but something into which we are born, it is far from clear that claritas scripturae is even a coherent concept, let alone a defensible one. . . .

A Preliminary Response . . .

One must begin by acknowledging that there is considerable truth in postmodern epistemology (if speaking of “truth” in this context is not an oxymoron!). It will aid no one if, alarmed by the sheer relativism that the most consistent forms of postmodernism open up, we retreat into modernism as if it were a sanctuary for the gospel. We may applaud modernism’s passion for truth, while doubting that its confidence in the neutrality, power, and supremacy of reason, and its reliance on appropriate methods, were unmitigated blessings. Similarly, we may applaud postmodernism’s recognition that we inevitably interpret texts (and everything else) out of a framework, that there is no escape from pre-understanding, while doubting its insistence that no knowledge of objective truth is possible. Even some correlative insights from postmodernism, such as the importance of the interpretive community, should be recognized for their value, even if they are pushed too hard. . . .

One of the most common devices in the postmodernist’s arsenal is the absolute antithesis: either we may know something absolutely and exhaustively, or our vaunted knowledge is necessarily relative and personal. Once that antithesis is established, it is so terribly easy to demonstrate that we do not and cannot have absolute and exhaustive knowledge about anything—after all, we are not God, and omniscience is an incommunicable attribute of God—that the alternative pole of the antithesis must be true. But in fact, the antithesis is false. It is easy enough to demonstrate the wide range of things we may know truly without knowing them exhaustively. When we speak of “certainty” or “confident knowledge,” we are not claiming what can properly belong only to omniscience. The falsity of the antithesis underlying so much of postmodernist theory must constantly be exposed. . . .

Modernist epistemology, springing from the foundationalism of Descartes, attempted to provide a secure basis of human knowing without reference to an absolute. The God-centered epistemology of the Middle Ages and of the Reformation era was displaced with a finite “I”: “I think, therefore I am.” . . . It was only a matter of time before the limitations of this “I” became apparent: different “I”s think different things, and eventually the subject-object tension, so pervasive a problem in Western epistemology, generated postmodern epistemology. But this latest turn of the epistemological wheel is profoundly challenged if there is a transcendent and omniscient God, a talking God, who chooses to disclose himself in words and linguistic structures that his image-bearers can understand, i.e., can understand truly even if not exhaustively.

What is at issue is a worldview clash of fundamental importance. If you buy into a postmodern worldview, then even if there is an omniscient talking God, you cannot possibly know it in any objective sense. But the talking God of the Bible not only communicates, but establishes a quite different metanarrative. A metanarrative is nothing more than a narrative that establishes the meaning of all other narratives. Postmodernism loves narratives, precisely because they are texts that tend to be more “open” than, say, discourse; but it hates metanarratives with a passion, seeing in them oppressive claims of totalization that manipulate people and control the open-endedness of the postmodern world. But the God of the Bible so discloses himself that he provides us with a metanarrative: the movement from creation, through fall, Abrahamic covenant, giving of the law, rise of the kingdom, exile, etc., climaxing in the life and death and resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth, and ultimately in the parousia and the onset of the new heaven and the new earth. This metanarrative is given in words; it explains and controls the interpretation of other narratives. To claim this is “totalization” and therefore to be rejected as oppressive exploitation is a useful category only if the metanarrative is untrue; if in fact it is true, to accuse it of totalization is nothing other than the resurfacing of human hubris, the shaking of one’s puny fist in the face of God, the apex of sinful rebellion.

In short, we are dealing with a worldview clash of cosmic proportions. If Christianity simply plays by the rules of postmodernists, it loses; biblically faithful Christianity must establish an alternative worldview, which overlaps with both the postmodern world and the modern world at various points, but is separate from both, critiques both, and succumbs to neither.

Again, the implications for claritas scripturae are striking. At issue is not whether this doctrine is defensible within a worldview that makes it indefensible, but whether it can be reestablished within a worldview of biblical theology that thoughtfully confronts and challenges an age that is departing from the Judaeo-Christian heritage with increasing speed. In other words, claritas scripturae is certainly still defensible, but only if set within a biblical-theological view of God and the Bible’s metanarrative, deployed in a contrastive matter with the philosophical postmodernism on offer.

[For a simple summary of the story of the Bible – the metanarrative – see Creation to Culmination.]

The Great Love With Which He Loved Me

[This is an excerpt from a post by John Piper on the DG Blog on July 30. I encourage you to follow the link to read the post in its entirety. To explore this issue further, I highly recommend Don Carson’s book The Difficult Doctrine of the Love of God. Note that Pastor John will preach at the DGCC 10th Anniversary Service on September 8 – Coty]

I want believers in Christ to enjoy being loved by God to the greatest degree possible. And I want God to be magnified to the greatest degree possible for loving us the way he does. This is why it matters to me what Jesus really accomplished for us when he died.

There is a common way of thinking about Christ’s death that diminishes our experience of his love. It involves thinking that the death of Christ expressed no more love for me than for anyone else in the human race. If that’s the way you think about God’s love for you in the death of Jesus, you will not enjoy being loved by God as greatly as you really are.

Feeling Specially Loved by God

I wonder if you have ever felt especially loved by God because of Ephesians 2:4–5? “God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ.”

Six things stand out here in Ephesians 2:4–5.

1. The phrase “great love.”

“Because of the great love with which he loved us.” That phrase is used only here in the New Testament. Let it sink in. . . .

2. The peculiar greatness of this love that moves God to “make us alive.” . . .

3. Before he made us alive, we were “dead.”

“Even when we were dead in our trespasses, God made us alive.” There is such a thing as the living dead. Jesus said, “Leave the dead to bury their own dead” (Luke 9:60). Before God made us alive, we were the living dead.

We could breathe and think and feel and will. But we were spiritually dead. We were blind to the glory of Christ (2 Corinthians 4:3–4); we were stone-hearted to his law and could not submit to him (Ephesians 4:18; Romans 8:7–8); and we were not able to discern spiritual things (1 Corinthians 2:14). Only God could overcome this deadness so that we could see the glory of Christ and believe (2 Corinthians 4:6). That’s what he did when he “made us alive” (Ephesians 2:5).

4. God does not make everyone alive.

What happened to you, to bring you to faith, has not happened to everyone. And remember, you don’t deserve to be made alive. You were dead. You were “by nature a child of wrath, like the rest of mankind” (Ephesians 2:3). You did not do anything to move God to make you alive. That’s what it means to be dead.

5. Therefore, God’s great love for you is really for you, particularly for you.

It is not a general love for everyone. Otherwise, everyone would be spiritually alive. He chose specifically to make you alive. You did not deserve this any more than anyone else. But for unfathomable reasons, he set his great love particularly on you.

6. He has wronged no one. For no one deserves to be saved. . . .

The Special Love of the New Covenant

Now here is the connection with the death of Christ. When Jesus died, he secured for us the removal of our deadness, and purchased for us the gift of life and faith. In other words, God’s “great love” could make us alive, because in Christ that same great love had provided the punishment of all our sins and the provision of all our righteousness.

We know this because Jesus said at the Last Supper, “This cup that is poured out for you is the new covenant in my blood” (Luke 22:20). . . .

Jesus Purchased the Activation

This is what Jesus bought for us when he died. And this is what the great love of God did for us when he made us alive in Christ Jesus. Therefore, God’s specific purpose in the death of Jesus was not the same for everyone. The great love of God, shown for you in the death of Jesus, was the purchase of your faith when you were dead.

He did not merely purchase the possibility of your life that you then would activate. Dead people don’t activate. What he purchased was the activation. . . . Because of a great love for you in particular.

Feel the Greatness of His Love for You . . .

This is what I want every believer to enjoy. The great love of God for you is not the same as the love he has for the whole human race. The love God has for you moved him to make you alive when you could do nothing to make yourself alive. And that same love moved him to purchase your life by the death of his Son.

So when you say with the apostle Paul, “He loved me and gave himself for me” (Galatians 2:20), feel the greatness of the words, “He loved me.” He loved me.

Trayvon, George – And You

Trayvon Martin. George Zimmerman.

Who are they?

Many have labeled Trayvon and George: Victim and Murderer. Attacker and Self-Defender. And much worse labels, on both accounts.

Many have tried to use the tragedy of Trayvon’s death and the sensation of George’s trial to advance one societal narrative or another.

But who are they?

Trayvon and George are not labels. They are not representatives of a class. They are not representatives of a race or a group.

They are individuals. With birthdays and classmates and friends. With plans and longings and desires. With mothers and fathers and siblings.

They are individuals – made in the image of God for the glory of God.

One of them is dead at the age of 17.

The other receives numerous death threats daily at the age of 29. He is “free.” But he and his family are in hiding.

How can we respond biblically to Trayvon’s death, to George’s trial and acquittal?

There is much we might say:

Let me instead offer ideas for prayer: Pairs of praise and cries to the God of the universe, thanking Him on the one hand, and beseeching Him on the other:

  • Praise God that through the sacrifice of Jesus Christ, not one of us must be cut off from God the Father, but whoever believes in Him will not perish but have eternal life;
  • And pray to God that He might use this tragedy in the lives of George, and George’s family, and Trayvon’s family so that they might see Him, know Him, and love Him.
  • Praise God that we live in a country where we don’t let our justice system become the vehicle for political show trials;
  • And pray to God that the inequities that exist in our justice system would be removed.
  • Praise God for the “reasonable doubt” standard – and thus that we would rather set nine guilty free than wrongly convict one innocent;
  • And pray to God that those nevertheless wrongly convicted would be cleared, and those wrongly set free would face genuine justice; furthermore, pray that we as a country might be united in seeing the wisdom in this standard, even when justice may not have been done in a specific case.
  • Praise God that in the five decades since Martin Luther King, Jr penned these words – “Let us all hope that the dark clouds of racial prejudice will soon pass away and the deep fog of misunderstanding will be lifted from our fear drenched communities, and in some not too distant tomorrow the radiant stars of love and brotherhood will shine over our great nation with all their scintillating beauty” – we have seen genuine advances in racial equality and racial harmony;
  • And pray to God that the remaining, significant dark clouds of racial prejudice will finally pass away, and the fog of misunderstanding that still hovers over our fear-drenched communities will truly lift.
  • Praise God that, as a country, we trust the constitutional process governing politics and law more than we trust individual political parties, elected officials, or popular demagogues;
  • And pray to God that that trust- so rare in history, so rare even around the world today – would survive and grow and spread.
  • Finally, praise God that in Christ “there is no Greek or Jew, circumcised or uncircumcised, barbarian, Scythian, slave or free, but Christ is all, and is in all” (Colossians 3:11);
  • And pray to God that the church in general, and DGCC in particular, might live out this reality, displaying that unity with Christ across ethnic differences in our thoughts, attitudes, and actions.

Jesus Our High Priest

Ed Conrad, Kevin Wang and I have had the privilege this week of studying the book of Hebrews under Dr D.A. Carson. Among other great themes, Hebrews pictures Jesus as our great High Priest. Meditate on these ideas, summarized in the first section, fleshed out in selections from Hebrews in the second, and versified by Michael Bruce in the third.

Summary:

In becoming man Jesus took on our frailty, and faced weakness and temptation like us. A person suffering from cancer knows that a cancer survivor can identify with his or her pain; just so, we can know that Jesus identifies with our temptations, our weaknesses, our frailty. And He, as our High Priest, by one sacrifice of His own body, makes perfect forever those who come to Him by faith. Furthermore, He always lives to make intercession for us when we fail. So may we hold fast to the confession of our certain hope – and boldly approach God the Father, knowing that because of our High Priest, He will receive us with mercy and grace, enabling us to endure to the end and thus to be saved.

Scripture:

Hebrews 7:23 – 8:2   23 The former priests were many in number, because they were prevented by death from continuing in office,  24 but he holds his priesthood permanently, because he continues forever.  25 Consequently, he is able to save to the uttermost those who draw near to God through him, since he always lives to make intercession for them.  26 For it was indeed fitting that we should have such a high priest, holy, innocent, unstained, separated from sinners, and exalted above the heavens.  27 He has no need, like those high priests, to offer sacrifices daily, first for his own sins and then for those of the people, since he did this once for all when he offered up himself.  28 For the law appoints men in their weakness as high priests, but the word of the oath, which came later than the law, appoints a Son who has been made perfect forever.  8:1 Now the point in what we are saying is this: we have such a high priest, one who is seated at the right hand of the throne of the Majesty in heaven,  2 a minister in the holy places, in the true tent that the Lord set up, not man.

Hebrews 10:11-18  And every priest stands daily at his service, offering repeatedly the same sacrifices, which can never take away sins.  12 But when Christ had offered for all time a single sacrifice for sins, he sat down at the right hand of God,  13 waiting from that time until his enemies should be made a footstool for his feet.  14 For by a single offering he has perfected for all time those who are being sanctified.  15 And the Holy Spirit also bears witness to us; for after saying,  16 “This is the covenant that I will make with them after those days, declares the Lord: I will put my laws on their hearts, and write them on their minds,”  17 then he adds, “I will remember their sins and their lawless deeds no more.”  18 Where there is forgiveness of these, there is no longer any offering for sin.

Hebrews 4:14-16   14 Since then we have a great high priest who has passed through the heavens, Jesus, the Son of God, let us hold fast our confession.  15 For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin.  16 Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.

Verse:

By Michael Bruce (1764) – written at the age of 18

Where high the heavenly temple stands,
the house of God not made with hands,
a great High Priest our nature wears,
the Guardian of mankind appears.

He, who for men their surety stood,
and poured on earth his precious blood,
pursues in heaven his mighty plan,
the Savior and the Friend of man.

Though now ascended up on high,
he bends on earth a brother’s eye;
partaker of the human name,
he knows the frailty of our frame.

Our fellow-sufferer yet retains
a fellow feeling of our pains;
and still remembers in the skies
his tears, his agonies and cries.

In every pang that rends the heart
the Man of Sorrows had a part;
he sympathizes with our grief,
and to the sufferer sends relief.

With boldness therefore at the throne
let us make all our sorrows known;
and ask the aid of heavenly power
to help us in the evil hour.

Why Do We Have Tongues?

From Isaac Watts’ “Shepherds, Rejoice!” (1709) – his rendition of the appearing of the angels to the shepherds in Luke 2. I expect to quote these lines in tomorrow’s sermon on Matthew 12:15-50:

Lord, and shall angels have their songs,
And men no tunes to raise?
O, may we lose our useless tongues
When they forget to praise!

Glory to God that reigns above,
That pitied us forlorn!
We join to sing our Maker’s love,
For there’s a Savior born.

Upon A Life I Have Not Lived

Sunday we sang the Indelible Grace version of “Upon a Life I Have Not Lived.” The original version was written by Horatius Bonar in 1881 as a communion hymn. The entire poem, containing a number of additional stanzas, is below. You can see the complete volume of his richly theological communion hymns at this link.

On merit not my own I stand;
On doings which I have not done,
Merit beyond what I can claim,
Doings more perfect than my own.

Upon a life I have not lived,
Upon a death I did not die,
Another’s life, Another’s death,
I stake my whole eternity.

Not on the tears which I have shed:
Not on the sorrows I have known,
Another’s tears, Another’s griefs,
On them I rest, on them alone.

Jesus, O Son of God, I build
On what Thy cross has done for me;
There both my death and life I read,
My guilt, my pardon there I see.

Lord, I believe; oh deal with me
As one who has Thy word believed!
I take the gift, Lord look on me
As one who has Thy gift received.

I taste the love the gift contains,
I clasp the pardon which it brings,
And pass up to the living source
Above, whence all this fullness springs.

Here at Thy feast, I grasp the pledge
Which life eternal to me seals,
Here in the bread and wine I read
The grace and peace Thy death reveals.

O fullness of the eternal grace,
O wonders past all wondering!
Here in the hall of love and song,
We sing the praises of our King.

 

Admit Your Need

Who is God? What is man? What is the relationship of man to God?

These are questions of worldview. The answers we give to those questions shape how we perceive and interpret the world around us.

Time and again, Jesus warns us that the attitude we assume in answering such questions, and the presuppositions we are often unaware of, can twist our thought processes and keep us from seeing the truth God has revealed.

Let’s look at three of Jesus’ statements in this regard.

First, Luke 18:24. A wealthy man who desires eternal life has just walked away sorrowful because Jesus has told him to sell all he has, give it all to the poor, and follow Him. Jesus then says: “How difficult it is for those who have wealth to enter the kingdom of God!”

Why is it difficult for the wealthy to enter the kingdom? One reason: Many rich people, like this man, think they are in control. They think that their wealth protects them from the vagaries of life. If they believe in God, they furthermore think that they have something to offer Him – that God needs them, that God even should be thankful to have them on His side.

Jesus offered this rich man eternal joy – the very life the man said he wanted! But he walked away, because he assumed that Jesus asked him to give up more than he was to gain. He assumed that he just needed to tweak his life in some way to make himself acceptable to God, worthy of eternal life. He assumed that his wealth was either a sign of God’s favor or in and of itself useful to God. Instead, Jesus revealed that it was a barrier between him and God. The rich man’s assumptions were deadly.

We’ll consider the second and third statements together:

Matthew 18:3:   “Truly, I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.”

Matthew 11:25-26: “I thank you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, that you have hidden these things from the wise and understanding and revealed them to little children; yes, Father, for such was your gracious will.”

Jesus says that some truth – indeed, the most important truth – cannot be known apart from God revealing it. Although this statement is perfectly reasonable once we admit the possibility of a Creator God, many today begin with the assumption that Jesus’ statement is false. They assume that (a) we are rational beings and (b) we can come to know all important truths through reasoning and experimentation. With those assumptions, there obviously is no role for revelation.

But children know they need revelation. Children know they don’t know many things, and they need others to teach them. So they ask question after question – sometimes to the point of driving their parents crazy!

Children also know they are dependent creatures, who need the shelter and protection that others provide. Children thus know they are not self-sufficient – either intellectually or physically.

Note that this attitude is the opposite to that of the rich man in the earlier story. Jesus, in effect, told the rich man to become dependent on Him. And the rich man went away, sorrowful in his self-sufficiency.

Jesus tells us that all of us must assume the dependent attitude of a child. We must cease assuming that we can know all that is important apart from His revelation. If we continue to believe we are self-sufficient, we will never know what is of greatest importance. We will never see the revealed truth that is right before our eyes – the truth that the Father has revealed to little children – to both literal little children, as well as to those who have become like little children and so entered the kingdom of heaven.

Jesus tells you, He tells me: “You are needy people. Admit it! You need revelation; you need guidance; you need empowering. Acknowledge it! You need forgiveness. Confess it! Quit assuming that your intelligence, your riches, your education, your accomplishments, your position, your reading, or your moral life qualify you to come into God’s presence, or to stand as judge over Him, His Word, and His actions. Instead: Come to Me – humbly, broken, and contrite, like a little child – and I will give you exactly what you need! Come to Me – repentant, seeking, asking – and I will choose to reveal the Father to you.”

This is Jesus’ challenge: Quit trying to establish your own righteousness, your own brilliance, your own status. Quit assuming it’s even possible to do that. Instead, like a child, acknowledge your neediness. Come to Him. He promises to you rest, peace, and fulfillment.

Who is God? What is man? What is the relationship of man to God? Jesus reveals these answers – to those who become like little children.

What Christ Has Done for Us

(by Kevin Wang)

My wife recently has been sharing the Gospel with a Muslim coworker. He raises many questions about Christianity. One of these is: If God is loving and merciful, if God is almighty and in charge of the entire universe, why would He need to send a Son to earth? And why would that Son have to die? This coworker thinks God can simply forgive any sin for any man. In fact, this man said he knows a Christian who raised the same question in his church, and no one in the church could give him a satisfactory answer – so this Christian converted to Islam!

People love to hear about God’s love, mercy, grace and forgiveness. But what exactly did Christ, the Messiah, the Son of God, do for us? Why did Jesus have to become man? Why did He have to die? I will not give a comprehensive answer today; rather, let’s look primarily at one verse: 1 Peter 3:18.

For Christ also suffered once for sins, the righteous for the unrighteous, that he might bring us to God, being put to death in the flesh but made alive in the spirit. (1 Peter 3:18)

The verse begins: “Christ also suffered once for sins.” The NASB translates this as, “Christ died for sins once for all.” Jesus suffered physical and emotional pain when he was mocked and flogged; then He suffered physical death. But why? Why did Jesus die? Peter says he “died for sins.” Whose sins? Certainly not his own. The Bible tells us Jesus lived a perfect life – a life no other human ever lived. So who else does the verse refer to? The only others mentioned are referred to by the pronoun “us” in the middle of the verse. Yes, us. You and me. Jesus suffered death in the flesh for us. He, the “righteous,” died for us, the “unrighteous.” The book of Romans tells us “all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.” And “the wages of sin is death.” We often hear there are two things guaranteed, death and taxes. Well, some smart people could potentially evade taxes, but no man on earth can evade death. The entirety of human history testifies to this verdict: “the wages of sin is death.”

But Christ died for our sins, He paid the penalty of God’s judgment against sins, so that God can be wholly just – for He sees to it that no sin goes unpunished. Indeed, “without the shedding of blood, there is no forgiveness of sins” (Hebrews 9:22). God had to send His Son to die if He was to forgive anyone, and remain just. But He did send that Son. That Son did die – and He offers us forgiveness through that death. That’s why we call the Gospel the Good News. Christ died once for all, on our behalf, in our place, for the sake of our sins. His death is sufficient to reconcile us to God, since He is the perfect sacrifice to cleanse our sins. He is like bleach that cleanses our dirty clothes from all the muddy stains; He is like antivirus software that wipes out all the harmful viruses on your computer. No antivirus software is perfect, because it is written by imperfect humans; you need to update the program periodically and rescan your computer. But – praise God! – Christ is perfect. His sacrifice is perfect and permanent. That’s why Peter says, “He died for our sins once for all.” There is no need for reinstallation or weekly updates like Microsoft Windows. It is once for all. It is everlasting. That’s why we only need to be baptized once, once for all, to signify our salvation in Christ, through His death and resurrection.

But Christ did far more for us than die for our sins. Just like a coin has two sides, what Christ did for us also has two sides. The end of this verse says, “being put to death in the flesh but made alive in the spirit.” On the negative side, Jesus was put to death in the flesh for our sins to satisfy the justice of God; on the positive side, he was made alive in the spirit, “that he might bring us to God.” That is, that He might show us the love of God. Just like his death in the flesh is once for all, his resurrection in the spirit is also once for all and everlasting.

God doesn’t just patch over sin, covering us for a little while, until sin breaks out again. God doesn’t just trim the weeds; God roots them out. God doesn’t offer bypass surgery; He gives us a new heart. Not a new heart of flesh, but a new heart in the spirit, because Christ was made alive in the spirit. With the Holy Spirit in our hearts, we have this intimate, infinite and permanent connection with God. The Holy Spirit is our power source that will never have a blackout, that will never short circuit. It is as if we are plugged into the power source of the entire universe. Furthermore, this power source is wireless, and has infinite range, with no areas of poor reception –because it is from the infinitely powerful Holy Spirit. So when Christ dies for us, the righteous for the unrighteous, he takes away sin from us – and He gives us new life, so that we become children of God. That’s why the Apostle Paul says, “but you have received the Spirit of adoption as sons, by whom we cry, ‘Abba! Father!’” (Romans 8:15).

For those among us who have never accepted Jesus as Savior and Lord, who have never believed in His death and resurrection, today is the day of salvation. Today is the day to receive what Christ has done for you: He died on your behalf; He was raised by the Holy Spirit to give you the Spirit of adoption as sons and daughters of God, by whom you may cry, “Abba! Father!”

For those among us who have already received Jesus as Savior and Lord: May we give thanks and praise to God for what Christ has done for us. May the precious Word of God soak into our minds and hearts, through the work of the Holy Spirit, so that we treasure Christ above everything else in our lives – and so that we may declare what the Apostle Paul declared:

I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me (Galatians 2:20).

Amen.

Hope in God and Argument with God

Is Christian hope wishful thinking, a fantasy, a pollyannish belief that against all evidence things will turn out well for me?

As we have recently considered (first, second, and third blog posts), Christian confidence rests not on our desires, nor on our intellectual investigations, nor even on our beliefs, but on God’s Word, the revelation that He has spoken, telling us truths we could never discover on our own. We are dependent on Him, and thereby on His revelation, given to us in His Word.

So how do we react when all around us is falling apart?

Such was Job’s situation. In a short time, he lost his wealth, his children, and his health. And his friends – supposedly come to comfort him – just made matters worse.

Job 13:15 summarizes his reaction:

Though he slay me, I will hope in Him; yet I will argue my ways to His face.

Job has a rock solid faith in God’s goodness, in His promises, in His faithfulness to every word He has proclaimed. David expressed the same hope when he was attacked by men:

My hope is from him.  He only is my rock and my salvation, my fortress; I shall not be shaken.  On God rests my salvation and my glory; my mighty rock, my refuge is God.  Trust in him at all times, O people; pour out your heart before him; God is a refuge for us. (Psalm 62:5b-8)

Yet this hope is consistent with more pain coming upon him in the future. Note that Job acknowledges that he might well die from this affliction. His hope does not consist of a naïve belief that the worst is over. Rather, he says that even if the worst is not over – even if God slays him – he will continue to hope in Him. He does not know the outcome of his suffering; nevertheless, his hope in God does not waver.

Consider now the second half of the verse: In addition to his solid hope in God, Job states, “I will argue my ways to his face.” Indeed, a large portion of the rest of the book consists of Job addressing God directly, asking Him to come and let Job argue his case before Him (see, for example, Job 23:4-7).

Once we have read to the end of the book, we might think such arguments from Job are wrong. For when God does appear, Job is unable to argue. Confronted with God Himself, he sees that he has no case. God overwhelms him with His majesty, power, and authority. So Job is left to say,

I know that you can do all things, and that no purpose of yours can be thwarted. . . . I have uttered what I did not understand, things too wonderful for me, which I did not know. . . .  I had heard of you by the hearing of the ear, but now my eye sees you; therefore I despise myself, and repent in dust and ashes.” (Job 42:2,3,5,6)

Nevertheless, I suggest that Job’s arguing with God earlier in the book is not wrong, in and of itself. Indeed, Job 13:15 well summarizes the condition of limited, hurting humanity before Him. He is far beyond our ability to understand; He will often act in ways that seem to us inconsistent with His revelation of His character. When He does so, it is right and good for us to cry out in our pain, to express our lack of understanding, to lay before Him the seeming inconsistency of His revelation and what we see around us.

We see men and women of God cry out like this time and again in Scripture. Examples include Psalms 39, 42, 77, and 88, Jeremiah 20, Habakkuk 1, 2 Corinthians 1, and the entire book of Lamentations. Let’s look briefly at selections from chapter 3 of that last book.

Lamentations was written after the destruction of Jerusalem by the Babylonians in 586 BC. During a long siege, the city suffered starvation, leading even to cannibalism. Then there was great slaughter when the Judean army tried to escape the siege and the Babylonians swept into the city. The author writes:

He has filled me with bitterness; he has sated me with wormwood.  He has made my teeth grind on gravel, and made me cower in ashes; my soul is bereft of peace; I have forgotten what happiness is; so I say, “My endurance has perished; so has my hope from the LORD.”  Remember my affliction and my wanderings, the wormwood and the gall!  My soul continually remembers it and is bowed down within me. (Lamentations 3:15-20)

The author seems now to be without hope. God Himself is sovereign – the author knows this, and so sees God as the source of his bitterness. He can’t get the images of horror out of his mind.

Yet keep reading:

The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.  “The LORD is my portion,” says my soul, “therefore I will hope in him.” The LORD is good to those who wait for him, to the soul who seeks him. It is good that one should wait quietly for the salvation of the LORD.  It is good for a man that he bear the yoke in his youth. Let him sit alone in silence when it is laid on him;  let him put his mouth in the dust– there may yet be hope;  let him give his cheek to the one who strikes, and let him be filled with insults.  For the Lord will not cast off forever,  but, though he cause grief, he will have compassion according to the abundance of his steadfast love; for he does not willingly afflict or grieve the children of men. (Lamentations 3:22-33)

In the midst of the horror, in the midst of the grief which the sovereign Lord has caused (v32), the author reflects on the revealed character of God – the revelation over the centuries of God speaking and acting: the revelation of God at work in the Garden of Eden and at Mt Sinai; the revelation through David and Solomon, through Elijah and Elisha, through Micah and Isaiah. The author’s hope has perished (v18); yet he will hope in Him (v24).  This hope springs not from a Buddhist-like belief that the sorrow he has seen is an illusion, nor from a naive optimism that things have a way of working out for the good, but because “the LORD is my portion.” That is, the author continues to hope in God – as Job continues to hope in God even while he argues with Him – because God has promised an inheritance – He Himself. And He is worth more than all the world has to offer.

With that in mind, consider Job’s arguments with God – and your own arguments. If God Himself is our portion, our inheritance, which, as Peter tells us, is “imperishable, undefiled, and unfading, kept in heaven for you” (1 Peter 1:4), then our inheritance is in and of itself to know Him. So as we struggle to know Him in this life, to understand His ways, we should come to Him with questions, with seeming inconsistencies, with our struggles. We should come humbly, yes; we must come submissively, by all means; we must come knowing, like Job, that in the end we will see God and shut our mouths.  At this moment, in this life, in this age, we see “as in a mirror dimly;’ it is good and right to bring Him our questions and our struggles to understand. But He has told us that the time is coming when we will “see face to face” (1 Corinthians 13:12). And we will know Him, and have Him as our inheritance.

So may we all say with Job, “Though he slay me, I will hope in Him; yet I will argue my ways to his face.”