behold the greatness

“Behold your God!” Behold, the Lord comes with might, and his arm rules for him; behold his reward is with him, and his recompense before him.    Isaiah 40:9b-10

Rhythms, disciplines, or practices; call them whatever you like but in the Christian life we have a whole list of things to do. They are things we should be pursuing and engaging in as regular parts of our following after Jesus. From Bible reading, to time spent praying, fasting, serving others and worshiping (just to name a few); we have a list of “to do’s” that are a part of our lives.

These practices are good things. They are right things–so long as they are kept in their proper place. So long as they are seen as ways of responding to Christ. So long as the “to do’s” don’t become our identity or the place from which we get our value. I love these things we do. I love learning how to do them better, how to go deeper with them, how to learn more of Christ in them. And I read books on them; books on how to study the Bible well, how to pray effectively, how to fast responsibly, etc.

I’m wondering though, is there a practice (at least one) that we have largely neglected? Not that we would disagree that it’s needed, but have we forgotten to preach and teach on it, to write good books about it; forgotten to encourage one another to spend intentional time in it?

I’m thinking of the practice of beholding. Beholding the greatness of God; beholding his majesty and magnificence. I’m not talking about listing the things he’s done for us, that’s the practice of gratitude (another intentional practice that we don’t give enough attention to). What I’m talking about here though is recognizing the holiness and grandeur of God. Not just being awed by what he does for us, but literally being amazed and astounded by who is.

When was the last time you spent significant energy considering the truths about God’s character that involve more than just listing what he’s done for you? 

We see merit in setting aside time to read our Bibles (even if we struggle to do so regularly) and we see the need to give time to prayer. Why would we not also give intentional time to the practice of beholding the greatness of God? The NIV uses the simple word “see” in Isaiah 40:10, “See, the Sovereign Lord comes with power…” and the ESV uses the word “behold” in the same verse. Personally, I like the word behold a little more because for me it intimates something deep and significant. An intentional perceiving of something (or in this case, Someone) impressive. But the call us for to see the Sovereign Lord is such a powerful reminder as well.

How often do we just not see him in our daily activitites? How often do we pray to ask for things from him and read to learn things about him and talk to tell some things about him and yet go through the whole day and not see him?

Behold the greatness of God. He comes and he brings everything with him that he needs. His rule is with him, his reward is with him, his recompense is with him. He does not come needing or seeking to gain. He comes delievering, determining, ruling. And all he receives ultimatley has come from him as well.

I love how Isaiah 40 proceeds afetr verse 10, because it offers the chance to bring about comparisons. It asks some critical questions of God: Who measures up to him? Who is like him? Who can give counsel to him? Comprehend him? Who has his endurance, or power, or faithfulness?

No one. No one. No one.

Behold the greatness of God, who has no equal, who is measured against none but himself. The Sovereign Lord who is Creator, Sustainer and Redeemer all in one.

How would our hearts be changed if we began to give regular time to sit and ponder the greatness of God? What if we were patient enough and willing enough to learn how to make our relationship with Christ less about ourselves and our needs and our wants and our blessings and our thoughts and more increasingly about Jesus? What if when we spent time in Bible study and in prayer we spent equal time in beholding God, in seeing him? Can you imagine the way our hearts would be moved? The depths of the love of Christ we would discover? The change we would experience?

It seems to me we would come to know him far deeper and love him far greater.

Now this is eternal life, that they know you the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom you have sent.  John 17:3

 

a return and some thoughts on grieving well

It has been six months (almost exactly) since last I wrote something here. It was an intentional and needed rest from writing, but now the time seems right to begin again. Hopefully you’ll join me on this journey, reading my words and then sharing your own thoughts in response.

As a way of starting again I wanted share something I wrote the other day for my local church family. As a church we find ourselves gathering around a dear and precious family who has experienced the great loss of their 11 month old daughter who was battling cancer. It is a tragic loss that wreaks of the wrongness of sin and death in our world. As a response to these events I simply wrote a few thoughts regarding the pursuit of grieving well. As an American I have long since been convinced that our culture has no concept of how to practice this well. Below you’ll find my initial thoughts on grieving well. There is more to say certainly, but this is a start.

For those of you reading who are not American, I would love to hear your thoughts on grief within your own cultures.

____________________________________________________

Times of great loss and sorrow seem to highlight the fact that as a culture, Americans are poorly equipped for grieving. It is not something we are taught how to approach and certainly not something we have learned to value. We however, are the Body of Christ, his chosen people, his royal priesthood and as such we should make intentional steps towards this practice of grieving well. We are called to grieve in ways distinct from those who don’t have the hope of Christ (1 Thessalonians 4:13).

I wanted to simply offer a few thoughts on grieving well with those who are in the midst of loss. How do we approach those who are grieving and what does it look like to live in that tension of being a people who both have great hope and also suffer deep loss? This isn’t a “how to” or some definitive final word on grief. It is simply a few thoughts to consider and some ways to be intentional and biblical as we respond. 

1)    Be present not wise

In the book of Job we find Job’s friends coming to his side at his time of great loss and suffering. So much of the book of Job is filled with their conversations that it can be easy to miss the significant reality of their presence. The friends of Job sat in silence with him for seven days before speaking a word.

And when they saw him from a distance, they did not recognize him. And they raised their voices and wept, and they tore their robes and sprinkled dust on their heads toward heaven. And they sat with him on the ground seven days and seven nights, and no one spoke a word to him, for they saw that his suffering was very great.       Job 2:12-13

They raised their voices in weeping, but not in an attempt to offer advice or counsel—not for a whole week. There is mighty power in simply being present with one who is grieving the loss of a loved one. Our willingness to sit patiently with them while they weep and remember and rant is an act of great love. So often when we see those in grief we are tempted to give our best counsel, our wisest words. The truth is that often we are motivated to do this mainly because it makes us feel better. The friends of Job loved him enough to wait for him to speak; they waited until he was ready.

When you see those suffering great loss give them a long hug, sit down beside them, be present. Don’t be tempted to put your wisdom on display.

2)    Be of the Truth

When the time does come to speak to those in grief fight the urge to say whatever comes to mind, to just speak flowery words that carry no depth. Speak biblical truth, speak words of Scripture. Psalm 119:25 reads, “My soul clings to the dust; give me life according to your word!” There is an understanding here that God’s words carry life. They draw our souls from the dirt and revive us.

 Before you go to the side of those in grief, pray for biblical wisdom from God. Spend a few moments in your Bible considering what you might share and then when you see them, share those words. Don’t be drawn into the desire to use Scripture as a springboard into your own commentary on what it means and how it applies. Just speak truth, and let the power of God’s own words sink deep into the soul of the hearer. Feel free to share your own sorrow and grief, your own memories of their lost loved ones, but also be sure you are offering them a balm for their soul. The words of Scripture can soothe better than any words you or I could come up with on our own.

3)    Be a long sufferer 

Some of the older Bible translations use the word longsuffering instead of the word patience that most modern translations opt for (like Galatians 5:22 which describes the fruit of the Spirit). I think this word longsuffering provides and incredibly significant image when it comes to loving well those who are in grief. The tragic reality is that in our culture most people have a very limited tolerance for engaging with those who are grieving great loss. It’s not that we don’t love those who are grieving, but the reality is that it is incredibly painful and difficult to continue weeks and months later to sit patiently and cry together. It’s painful to consistently remember with them those lost loved ones. To listen and talk with them as they go through deeper pain than we may be prepared to identify with. To grieve well with our brothers and sisters takes great patience. It is an act of longsuffering.

We need to be in prayer that God, by his Spirit, would develop in us a depth of patience that could be described as longsuffering. That we would be made ready for the long journey of grieving that lies ahead. That our hearts would grow in capacity, that we would become a people of mercy and compassion that we could never be on our own. 

4)    Be hopeful

We are a people of hope. We know that Jesus is coming again, that those who are found in him will experience life without end; that death will be dealt the final blow removing any influence it has on our lives. We know that we are looking to a better home, that God has prepared us for this very thing. We should cling to that and proclaim that to each other always. 

For we know that if the tent that is our earthly home is destroyed, we have a building from God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens. For in this tent we groan, longing to put on our heavenly dwelling, if indeed by putting it on we may not be found naked. For while we are still in this tent, we groan, being burdened—not that we would be unclothed, but that we would be further clothed, so that what is mortal may be swallowed up by life. He who has prepared us for this very thing is God, who has given us the Spirit as a guarantee. So we are always of good courage. We know that while we are at home in the body we are away from the Lord, for we walk by faith, not by sight.              2 Corinthians 5:1-7

story

I love a good story. Like nothing else, a good story can cause hours to completely disappear and problems to fade into the background. I can get lost in world’s I’ve never been to and times I’ve not lived in. Stories are so appealing because they highlight the human struggle and they bring forth heroes and villains. Good stories give us the chance to hope and feel and bond with the characters. It’s so difficult to resist being pulled into a really well written or well told story. If we’re honest, it’s partly because most of us secretly want to be the hero of some epic tale. We’re drawn to that idea of being the central character who fights against the wrong and triumphs for the good.

 

I’ve found that because this is true it’s also easy to approach my life as if this is my story, my chance to be the hero. I am often tempted to view myself as the central character of my life’s story. After all, this life I live is ultimately about me, right? Isn’t that why it’s called my life? This false perception can also be perpetuated by the way we talk and the way we pray. We speak of Jesus saving us (which he does) and we pray asking him for what we want and need. These aren’t wrong, but they can tend to encourage us to continue making ourselves the main character of the story of our lives. We can begin to view Jesus as the guy who adds to our life, who rounds it out, rather than the one who is our life. As if Jesus takes our life which would be a 6 or 7 on its own and tips the scales bringing life up to a strong 9 or 10.

 

Thankfully, the gospel reminds us that this is simply not the case. The story of which we are a part is not our story it’s God’s. The story isn’t focused on what I do in these seventy or so years I am given. It’s not mainly about how I manage my decisions and opportunities and develop my skills. It’s not a story about the conflicts I face or the people I impact. The story—much to my ego’s dismay—is not about me.

 

I find my true place in God’s story by the saving grace of Jesus. I am given purpose and hope and joy because of Jesus. I am given life and direction and value, because of Jesus. This is his story playing out in the scenes of my life. Just consider Romans 5:

 

For while we were still weak, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly. For one will scarcely die for a righteous person—though perhaps for a good person one would dare even to die—but God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us. Since, therefore, we have now been justified by his blood, much more shall we be saved by him from the wrath of God. For if while we were enemies we were reconciled to God by the death of his Son, much more, now that we are reconciled, shall we be saved by his life. More than that, we also rejoice in God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have now received reconciliation.           Romans 5:6-11

 

There is a grand story that spans all of human history and it is this story—God’s story—that makes sense out of everything in our lives. This story tells of God’s great and enduring love for a people who rebel; a people of sin. God created, humanity sins, and God redeems and re-creates.

 

Like any good story, God’s story contains all the necessary elements. There is conflict that comes in the form of sin and there is a climax that appears on the cross when Jesus dies for our sins and is resurrected three days later. Contrary to how I often think, the climax of my story doesn’t happen when I get that big break at work, or when I finally get recognition for my abilities. The climax of my life’s story isn’t my wedding day or retirement or the arrival of my first child. It’s not landing that dream job or some other noble pursuit. The climax of our story already took place over 2,000 years ago.

 

When Christ died for the ungodly; when God showed his love for us sinners; when we were justified by the blood of Christ on the cross and saved from the wrath of God—this is the climax of the story we now live. I was an enemy of God and was reconciled by the death of his Son. The story will never get better than this. Everything that happens now, no matter how significant and impactful, is resolution to the climax. We are living out what the climax of the story has made possible.

 

a call to remember

Therefore remember that at one time you Gentiles in the flesh, called “the uncircumcision” by what is called the circumcision, which is made in the flesh by hands—remember that you were at that time separated from Christ, alienated from the commonwealth of Israel and strangers to the covenants of promise, having no hope and without God in the world. But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ.   Ephesians 2:11-13

 

 Remember that at one time you were separated from God. Remember that you were an alien—you had no belonging and no understanding of God. Remember that you were once separated. You were without God.

 

It’s good to remember, even if what we are remembering is itself not good. It’s good to keep in mind where we’ve come from and what we’ve been saved from. It’s good to have this kind of perspective. Remembering that God has given us all we have and made us all we are. Remembering that when left to ourselves we were without hope and without God.

 

 

But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for his own possession, that you may proclaim the excellencies of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light. Once you were not a people, but now you are God’s people; once you had not received mercy, but now you have received mercy.           

1 Peter 2:9-10

  

Remembering what we once were (and were not) makes being who we are now all the more sweet. It’s harder to rail against the church with all its foibles (and there certainly are a lot we could get distracted with!) when we remember that we now belong to a people when once we were alone. When we remember that this church is God’s royal priesthood and holy nation and that we are inseparable from them—we are them! It’s also harder to be malcontented with the day’s little bumps and struggles when we are remembering that we were once separated from Christ and in utter darkness, but now we walk in his marvelous light.

  

You shall remember that you were a slave in the land of Egypt, and the Lord your God redeemed you; therefore I command you this today.         Deuteronomy 15:15

 

 It’s remarkable the way the book of Deuteronomy is filled with calls to remember. At least four times the call is a distinct call to “remember when you were slaves.” There are also a multitude of calls to remember sins committed and God’s faithfulness, but God goes out of his way to have Moses call the people to the specific memory of slavery. He does this repeatedly. How better to produce thankfulness and gratitude for our rescue than to remember what we once were?

 

But what if I came to Christ as a young child? Doesn’t that make these memories less sweet? Doesn’t it mean less because I had less time and freedom to allow my sinful nature full access to all its corruptive potential?

 

Consider again the Israelites who were commanded to remember they were slaves. Do you think it meant less to those who were children when they left Egypt simply because they had not yet had the opportunity to bear the full brunt and punishment of their slavery? Was the present less sweet? Were they less enslaved in Egypt than their parents? Certainly not. If anything, they should have greater thankfulness from the realization that God brought them out so soon; so quickly before they were subjugated to their slavery as adults. Just because they were children didn’t make them less enslaved. The same can be said of those of us who came to Christ as young children. We were not less enslaved, less sinful, less corrupted and hopeless. We were on the same trajectory as all human beings, and God saw fit to rescue us.

 

Remember that you were spearated from Christ, but now you who once were far off have been brought near by his blood. This is the most beautiful of memories.

 

the word of Christ

Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly, teaching and admonishing one another in all wisdom, singing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, with thankfulness in your hearts to God.            Colossians 3:16

 

 

In our family we are taking on a challenge this summer. We’re going to memorize all of John 17. This is a big task for us, but one we’re looking forward to and actually enjoying already.

 

Our church is promoting something this summer called Summer Stories. The idea is to be challenged to do five different things over the course of the summer: pray specifically for five people who don’t know Christ, memorize John 17, throw a block party to meet your neighbors, invite some people to a church gathering and find a place to serve the in city one night a week. The point is to create some stories this summer. To intentionally do some things that will push us in our own walk with Christ as well as make us mindful of those around us who don’t yet know the gospel of Jesus. The belief is that as we do these things boldly and intentionally we will look back on this summer with some great stories of what God has done in our lives and in others. As the summer progresses we’ll be sharing our individual stories with the whole church community and celebrate together what God is doing in our lives.

 

So our family has started with the memorization of John 17. We’ll look to pursue some of the other challenges this summer as well, but this is where we started. It has been an interesting week and a definite blessing to work on this as a family. Our kids are taking it so seriously and really are making great headway so far!

 

As we’ve begun I have been reminded frequently of Paul’s challenge to the Colossian church. “Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly…” Paul recognized our desperate need for a rich indwelling of God’s Word. He knew that in order to meet the needs of one another we will need a deep store of God’s truth in our hearts. I can’t help but wonder if this unmet reality is at the source of so much difficulty that the church seems to have getting along with itself.

 

Down through the ages there are stories upon stories of church division and backbiting; stories of gossip, arguments that never resolve, politics in the church body, and power struggles. The one unified Body of Christ has often been anything but a diverse group of members working for the glory of Christ as a blessing to one another and the world. Could it be in large part because the members have not been investing in a deep store of the word of Christ in their own hearts? Could it be because so much of the Body has allowed a Sunday morning feeding on the Word to be all they get for the week?

 

Dietrich Bonhoeffer, in his book Life Together says this:

 

“It is not our heart that determines our course, but God’s Word. But who in this day has any proper understanding of the need for scriptural proof? How often we hear innumerable arguments “from life” and “from experience” put forward as the basis for our most crucial decisions, but the argument of Scripture is missing.” 

 

When the Word of God does not dwell in us richly, our life easily becomes guided by other things: by outside influences, self diagnosis, and popular opinion. We need the word of Christ, not merely to be heard by us on a regular basis, but to dwell in us richly. And so we are memorizing.

 

I can’t help but realize that teaching our children to memorize Scripture is teaching them a culture of how to live life. It’s so much more than just a summer project and I pray we’ll have the perseverance and consistency necessary to make it a new rhythm of our family’s life. We pray together, we read the Bible together, but we have not done much intentional hiding of God’s Word in our hearts as a family. This is a great beginning for us. There is great joy to be found in the time we are spending as a family working through John 17, not to mention the joy we receive as parents to find our children so enthusiastic and committed to this memorization. And we are preparing our children now for the day we will watch them set out on their own. What a gift to see them set out with a rich store of the word of Christ dwelling within their hearts. This is a goal worth investing in.

 

people of hope

Last week I quoted Paul Tripp speaking about the gap in our gospel. He was talking about this missing piece in our faith and understanding, this middle part of the hope we are called to live in, but often lose sight of. I wanted to return to this again because his insight is incredibly important for us as we consider what it looks like to live in the power of Jesus in the here and now. If you want to read the whole quote again it can be found here.

 

Essentially what Tripp was identifying is that we as Christians have a pretty good idea of salvation past (what Jesus did for us on the cross) and of salvation future (our hope in eternity), but we often fail to comprehend how to live in the power of the gospel in our day to day activities. We struggle and fight and fall into sin again and again and again.

 

How do we rise above it? How do we experience victory? How do we struggle against sin, knowing that we will not be perfect until we are made so by Christ and yet still keep in step with the Spirit?

 

Most of the time, most of us feel at a real loss for how this comes about. How do we live in the power of the gospel today, and tomorrow, and everyday we live in these fleshly bodies with all our sin? Colossians 2 offers us great perspective and great hope.

 

Therefore, as you received Christ Jesus the Lord, so walk in him, rooted and built up in him and established in the faith, just as you were taught, abounding in thanksgiving. See to it that no one takes you captive by philosophy and empty deceit, according to human tradition, according to the elemental spirits of the world, and not according to Christ. For in him the whole fullness of deity dwells bodily, and you have been filled in him, who is the head of all rule and authority.      Colossians 2:6-10

 

Paul reminds us in this letter of the most important thing: We have been filled in Christ. He doesn’t say we have been filled with Christ. This is certainly true and biblical, but Paul is saying something more. It isn’t just that Christ fills up our sinful bodies with all our limitations, but that we are filled up in him. All his limitlessness and power, all his divinity that expands to the far reaches of the universe and beyond, all that makes him God in full, we are filled up in all that is Christ! We are filled up in the one who is ruler and authority over all creation.

 

“For in him the whole fullness of deity dwells bodily, and you have been filled in him, who is the head of all rule and authority.”

 

Jesus is not shrunk down to the size of our mortal flesh in our momentary circumstances, but that by the mysterious power of the gospel of Jesus dying on the cross and resurrecting from the dead, we are filled up in him. We are given fullness in him, power in him, hope in him.

 

That’s why Paul can start this section of his letter with the words, “just as you received Christ Jesus the Lord, so walk in him…” He is calling us, not just to hold on to salvation past until salvation future is made complete, but to live in the now walking in Christ. He is calling us to that middle part of the gospel that we often lose sight of and fail to tap into. He is reminding us that the gospel is not just for past and future, but also for here and for now.

 

And this leads us to the great treasure of our faith: hope.

 

We will continue to struggle against our sin nature for all our days. We will continue to battle and sometimes fail (often times fail!). We will taste the bitterness of death, our selfishness and of our own depravity. But we have hope. The greatest and highest hope! We have been filled up in Christ. We have the power of the resurrection—the only victor over death—in the midst of our everyday living that is continually stained by our own brokenness. We have the power of Christ, not just to be freed from our past and guaranteed our future, but power to walk in Christ each day.

 

And it’s important to remember that we don’t hope as the world hopes. This isn’t the hope of “Oh, I wish it would happen.” and “Maybe it’ll happen.” It’s not the hope of “Wouldn’t it be nice if once in a while it did happen”. This isn’t wishes me make or dreams we imagine could possibly come about. No, our hope is biblical hope. It is confident expectation of a guaranteed result that God has promised us in Christ. God will enable us to walk in Christ in the here and now.

 

This doesn’t mean we won’t struggle, we will. This doesn’t mean we won’t falter, we will. This doesn’t mean we don’t sin, we still will. But we don’t have to be ruled by it, oppressed by it, consumed by it. We can find victory in our days and joy in the midst of our pains. We can experience real change in our struggles. We can walk in Christ.

 

We don’t need to live in some limbo between what has been done for us and what awaits us without power for what we face today. We can live in the fullness we have in Christ. But the hope of the gospel must mark our steps. The power of the resurrected Christ must be on our lips and in our hearts and filling our minds. We must learn to live in the hope—the biblical hope—of confidently expecting that what has been guaranteed to us in Christ will result in changed living for today.

 

We are the people of hope. God’s people filled up in him who is the fullness of deity, the Ruler and authority over all creation—Jesus Christ, our Lord!

 

wanderers and diggers

My people have committed two sins:
They have forsaken me,
the spring of living water,
and have dug their own cisterns,
broken cisterns that cannot hold water.

Jeremiah 2:13

 

Two sins.

 

Forsaking God is the first. That is turning away, finding hope and identity in something false, something dead, something other than God. Instead of drinking for the living spring we seek the stagnant pools of our own making.

 

And then there is the actual digging: sin number two. The words of God in Jeremiah 2:13 are powerful and full of imagery. The idea is that we stand at a fountain of living water, a place where water flows from the ground and is fresh and plentiful and free. But instead of drinking from it we turn and get down on our hands and knees in the dirt and begin digging a cistern—a ditch to hold water. Not living water but stagnant, still, dead water.

 

Why would we do this?! Why would we stand before the fresh, clean water flowing before us and instead turn to dig in the dirt? Why would we continually practice creating our own holding tank for water—one that is broken and truly holds no water?

 

Are we so desperate to drink on our own terms? So bent on controlling our own lives that we would rather suck drops from the mud than enjoy the flowing fountain?

 

Sadly, it appears so. And the two sins are intertwined. The forsaking and the creating of my own source for drinking—these two sins feed off of one another. We believe the lies that other things can satisfy, that other things give life and hope. Oh, we don’t say it in those terms, but that’s what we are believing when we have time for everything else in life, but spend no time drinking from the Scriptures. That is what we believe when we get our “to do” lists done, or invest all our time in work and leisure, but forget to pray, forget to fellowship with God.

 

Now why go to Egypt
to drink water from the Nile?
And why go to Assyria
to drink water from the Euphrates?

Jeremiah 2:18

 

Why do we go elsewhere? Why do we so quickly forget? Why do we repeatedly believe in our own ability to dig deep enough that we might find the living water on our own terms?

 

We put our hope in human governments, a job, a church, family members, vacations, a new gadget; anything and everything! We are so easily swayed and drawn astray. It’s why parents can begin to live vicariously through the accomplishments of their kids. It’s why church-goers can become desperate to be identified by what they do in the church. It’s why some become workaholics and others find their only real joy in times of buying things.

 

We put our hope in things and people without realizing what we are doing. It comes far too easy to us. We are wanderers and we are diggers. We are forsakers and we are dirt lickers. And it always disappoints.

 

Why do you go about so much,
changing your ways?
You will be disappointed by Egypt
as you were by Assyria.

Jeremiah 2:36

 

We need constant reminders. We need a community that is always encouraging us to return to the fountain, to drink from the spring.

 

We will forget. We will be tempted to dig our own source. May God grant us the wisdom and the boldness to continually call one another to get off the ground, to get our hands out of the dirt, and to drink from the living fountain. Only this will satisfy.

 

On the last and greatest day of the festival, Jesus stood and said in a loud voice, “Let anyone who is thirsty come to me and drink. Whoever believes in me, as Scripture has said, rivers of living water will flow from within them.”          John 7:37-38

 

more

“But do not think I will accuse you before the Father. Your accuser is Moses, on whom your hopes are set. If you believed Moses, you would believe me, for he wrote about me. But since you do not believe what he wrote, how are you going to believe what I say?”

John 5:45-47

 

In our church we’re currently working our way through the gospel of John. It will likely take us the entire year to do so and the experience so far has been amazing. We’re digging deep into each section, looking at what Jesus is talking about on Sunday mornings and then expanding on it, going even deeper into it in our community groups that meet throughout the week.

 

Each week the pastors meet and discuss what’s being said in the passage we will be looking at the following Sunday. We just open up the text, read and share. This past Wednesday as we explored the 7^th chapter of John I noticed something. It’s not new really, but it struck me in a particularly strong way this week. In the first six chapters of John, Jesus fights against not just an unwillingness by the people to believe that he is who he claims to be, but also this corrupted willingness of humanity to settle for far less from God than he is trying to give us.

 

A quick survey of the first six chapters of John bears this out. They just want to know where Jesus is staying not who John the Baptist says he really is. They were only looking for a little more wine for the party. The people would settle for just not having their Temple marketplace disrupted when what Jesus was offering them was a once for all sacrifice that would make repeated trips to the bloody altar unnecessary. The Pharisee Nicodemus only wants Jesus to be a good teacher sent from God and the woman at the well is just looking for clarity about worship locations. The disciples would like to just leave the Samaritans alone and it seems the main thing the people are wanting is to see more miracles. Jesus faces a man who wants to be recognized as having had a rough life more than he actually wants to be healed and everyone would be happy with a little more bread given miraculously rather than feeding on the Bread of Life, Jesus himself.

 

Jesus is constantly knocking down the doors and blowing out the walls of our religious smallness and the low expectations we’ve set up for him. He’s continually pulling back the veil of the temporary and the momentary and revealing a world of abundant eternity, inviting us to join him there. But just like the crowds and the religious zealots and the disciples we fail to see the promise of true life because we’re caught staring at the stale remnants of our own imaginings. Wanting what we think will be a little better than what we have instead of opening ourselves up to the extravagant bounty of life-eternal and joy unspeakable that Jesus is calling us to.

 

I’m beginning to think the reality is simply that we don’t really believe what he has to say—not about life in the present any way. We can hope for the future and look to the resurrection that is coming. We can dream of heaven and no more tears and no more pain. But can we believe that in the here and now, in the today, in the midst of our current suffering that there is true joy to be had? Can we believe that life without worry and life without fear is actually possible? Can we find a place in our hopeful faith for his power being made perfect in our weakness? Can we trust him to come through in the ways he says he will? I’m not sure we want to. I’m not sure we are willing to.

 

Let’s be honest, the religious processions and practices we’ve set up for ourselves are not that bad. We get a feel good moment here and there, a hope for the future reminder from time to time. We get to look down on those not as far along as us and idolize the ones who are leading the way ahead of us. And for the most part we feel…okay. Granted, it’s not life abundant in the here and now. It’s not joy-saturated living. But we’ve learned to cope, we’ve figured out how to settle.

 

This isn’t the life Jesus calls us to. Read the gospels. The words Jesus uses are compelling and dynamic. The life he lives and calls us to live is radical. Our lives? They are typically safe and mundane. They are all too often a settling for less than what God has to offer.

 

What would happen if we not only believed what Jesus has to say about who he is and how we are saved, but also what he says about how the saved should live life?

 

There is so much more. But will we believe him?

 

far

So the Pharisees and teachers of the law asked Jesus, “Why don’t your disciples live according to the tradition of the elders instead of eating their food with defiled hands?”

He replied, “Isaiah was right when he prophesied about you hypocrites; as it is written:

“‘These people honor me with their lips,
but their hearts are far from me.

They worship me in vain;
their teachings are merely human rules.’

You have let go of the commands of God and are holding on to human traditions.”

Mark 7:5-8

 

 

The words Jesus has for the Pharisees are often equally convicting for us as Christians today. If, that is, we can look past our self-impressed egos and self-admiring sense of superiority over the Pharisees. Let’s be honest, we’re really good at reading what the Pharisees say and do and shaking our heads in disbelief. How could they ever be so foolish? So self-righteous? So blind to the truth?

 

And yet, we are just like them in so many ways.

 

In Mark 7 Jesus is confronted yet again with the legalism of the Pharisees and his response is difficult to read. Essentially what Jesus tells them is that at the level of their hearts they aren’t really interested in following him at all. They are interested in themselves.

 

“…their hearts are far from me.”

 

They were interested in rules about God, in looking the part of one who’s interested, and in performing regular rituals, but their hearts didn’t want the cost of real change. They didn’t want real, dynamic encounters with God. That simply puts too much at risk. It’s safer and simpler to live in pseudo-moralistic systems of self-atonement. Systems of rules and doing protect our eyes from seeing the reality of our own rebellion; the depth of our own corruption. They give us something to take pride in, something to feel like we are skilled in. Something we’ll deserve a pat on the back for accomplishing.

 

Pursuing systems of self-redemption is far more palatable to our pride than falling flat before the Redeemer and acknowledging that we can do nothing.

 

The problem is often not our actual outward behaviors (although those have their moments too), but it’s the heart behind them. The secret motivations of self-interest that permeate even our noblest and holiest pursuits. We are wretched even in our good deeds.

 

The bottom line is that it’s not what we do that needs changing (even if what we do does need changing); it’s our hearts need to be renewed. Our motives and desires at our essential core need renewal. Even as we follow Christ so often our motives are more about ourselves than him. Even as we commit to serving at church and in our communities, as we sing songs of praise and pray prayers of love, the reality is that our hearts are far from him.

 

I will sprinkle clean water on you, and you will be clean; I will cleanse you from all your impurities and from all your idols. I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you; I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh. And I will put my Spirit in you and move you to follow my decrees and be careful to keep my laws.                    Ezekiel 36:25-27

 

Lord, may this day be lived with the new heart of flesh that only you can give. May we find hearts within us that are near you. Change our interests, our desires, our wants, and all the things we value. Jesus, change our hearts.

 

the gospel – awkward and sweet

And so John the Baptist appeared in the wilderness, preaching a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. The whole Judean countryside and all the people of Jerusalem went out to him. Confessing their sins, they were baptized by him in the Jordan River. John wore clothing made of camel’s hair, with a leather belt around his waist, and he ate locusts and wild honey. And this was his message: “After me comes the one more powerful than I, the straps of whose sandals I am not worthy to stoop down and untie. I baptize you with water, but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.” Mark 1:4-8

 

John the Baptist is a bit of an odd one. Can we just say that? If he were alive today and came wandering into our church with his strange way of dressing and bizarre diet most of us would secretly wish he would find another place to worship. More accurately, if we passed him on the street corner, we would write him off as a crazy and ignore him.

 

He’s not a casual, hang out kind of guy. He’s not a socially comfortable kind of guy. Something tells me he was probably one of those very intense personalities. He’s definitely not your good time guy and no one would mistake him for the go to person you count on to liven up the party. He’s always talking loudly about sin and repentance and some “One” who is coming. John the Baptist marched to the beat of his own drum in his time and it wouldn’t be any different if he lived in ours.

 

Having said all that, the awkwardness of John the Baptist is part of what I love about him. He’s bold and courageous. He’s focused on Jesus and our need for him. He doesn’t get caught up with what’s socially acceptable or a sense of wanting to be doing what everyone else is doing. And he’s proof that we don’t have to be that either.

 

In spite of all his awkward weirdness, people are still drawn to him. Mark 1 tells us the whole Judean countryside and all Jerusalem were going out to hear him speak. And more importantly, they were responding and repenting and being baptized. They were hearing his message of the coming Jesus and their need for repentance. They were hearing and they were accepting it.

 

The church today seems so overly obsessed at times with the desire to be cool and to be seen as a comfortable place for people. Honestly, it feels like much of the time the church in America doesn’t want to be seen as different. It’s as if our fear of being a turn off to some means we end up being compelling to none. The truth of the matter is that sin and repentance and the need for a savior are not very welcoming messages. It’s awkward to talk about our brokenness and the deceitfulness of our hearts. It certainly doesn’t make for great marketing strategies; at least not by worldly standards.

 

Jesus’ life and message is a constant reminder that selling ourselves, blending in, presenting things in a palatable way isn’t our place. He says some pretty harsh things at times, like declaring that he didn’t come to bring peace but a sword (Matthew 10:34). Or what about in John 6 where Jesus offends the crowds with his words about eating his flesh and drinking his blood? We find such a startling picture there when many of his disciples turned back and no longer followed him because of his offensive and hard teaching.

But what we have seemed to lose sight of these days is that it’s these harsh and socially unacceptable parts of the message that make grace so powerful and beautiful. It’s the full story of our sin and need for Jesus that ensures that grace is not viewed as cheap or easily come by. Grace is amazing primarily because of what it cost God to bring it to us.

 

I love John the Baptist because he makes no apologies for the difficulty of his message. He makes no attempts to look just like the culture so no one feels uncomfortable. He focuses on the One whose sandals he isn’t worthy to untie. He celebrates this One. And he makes no apologies for our need to repent, for the reality of our sin or the lowliness of our position. It’s the awkward, discomfort of the message of sin that makes the truth of the grace-giving Savior so sweet. Without the one we have only a cheap imitation of the other.

 

Of course there is a place for being “relevant” as the church, although I’m not so sure what that even means any more (it’s beginning to feel like empty banter that makes us church folk feel validated for falling in love with the world). Of course we’re supposed to connect with the culture and not isolate ourselves. And of course we’re called to be “all things to all people” as Paul reminds us. But I fear that at times we confuse the means for the ends. Being all things to all people is so that we might see some saved. It’s so that the gospel might be heard. At the end of the day our relevance, our ability to connect to the culture, our intention of being “all things” is so that all people might hear the awkward message of how sinful we are and how sweet the grace of Jesus is in the face of our dead hearts.

 

John the Baptist reminds us that we are to be bold and courageous. We are to be unapologetic at the offensiveness of the gospel. Because as hard a truth as it is, it’s a sweeter hope and fuller life than can be found anywhere else. And ultimately, the message of John the Baptist always centers on Jesus:

 

“After me comes the one more powerful than I, the straps of whose sandals I am not worthy to stoop down and untie. I baptize you with water, but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.”