There are plenty of legitimate concerns with a season like Lent. Some people can only smell oppressive Roman Catholicism, works righteousness, legalistic burdens, scoring brownie points with God, competing for holiness, superficial-hypocritical spirituality, pharisaism, washing the outside of the cup, white-washed tombs, making a show of piety, and why would forgiven saints want to wallow in their sins for forty days anyway?
And in so far as people take up a Lenten observance with any of that in mind or in their hearts, I say to hell with Lent. God hates all of that.
But consider me an optimistic hold out for the benefits of reclaiming a joyful, faithful Lent.
Lent comes from the old English which means "lengthening," and it originally referred to the fact that the days were getting longer. It means Springtime. And I can't think of a better way of getting geared up for Easter.
In other words, Lent is the season that celebrates Postmillenialism. Postmillenialism is the name for the view of eschatology that says the story of this world is the story of God remaking this world into the garden-city it was always meant to be. Rather than planet earth bursting into flames and the rapture occurring just in time to medivac the last few faithful survivors into another dimension, the Bible teaches that the death and resurrection of Jesus was the down payment for the glorification of this world, this planet, this universe. The Spirit was poured out at Pentecost in order to re-create this broken paradise, and postmillenialism is one theological name to describe the basic gospel proclamation that Jesus wins and everyone might as well come along cheerfully. Whether it takes another few hundred years or thirty-thousand more years, the history of this planet will be the story of salvation, the victory of grace, and the vast majority of humanity will be saved. Hell will be a small, dark speck populated with a tiny band of gollums making love to their darkness.
In other words, the story of history is an enormous Springtime. It is the story of Lent, the story of days getting longer, the world getting lighter.
The darkest night in the history of the world was the night before Jesus was born, the night before the Light was born into this world. That night was the winter solstice of all human history. In Adam the world could only grow darker, but when the Light of the World burst into the world, it began to get lighter. And the last two thousand years are the story of this world getting lighter, the days getting longer, the nights getting shorter.
Lent means it's getting lighter. The Sun is risen, and the Light of the World is growing.
And this means that Lent is always a call to walk in the light as He is in the light. It is a call to cast away all the works of darkness, to cast away the shadows and to come into the light. Lent is a call to join the mission of this Kingdom of Light, the mission of being light and bringing light to this dark world. Lent celebrates God's victory over darkness and rejoices in the shadows fleeing away.
So far as people try to cover up their guilt with false pietistic fasting, they are only hiding in the shadows. In so far as people try to make a show of their piety through pharisaical fasting from Facebook and coffee, God is not impressed.
But in so far as Lent is a wonderful annual reminder that the Sun is up, and it is getting lighter, Lent is a call to come into the light, a call to hope, a call to struggle against sin, the flesh, and the devil. And in so far as faithful believers take up their crosses and cry out to God with tears and fasting and prayer, God will see in heaven and answer the cries of the weak and the broken. In so far as Lent is a cry of defiant hope, a battle cry that insists against all odds, against what seems impossible, against the patterns and habits and powers of this dark world, in so far as Lent insists that it is getting lighter, and that nothing can stop the Light, in so far as that is what we celebrate and renew year after year, that is good news. That is the wonderful gospel of Lent.
Lent means it is getting lighter. Lent means that the Sun is risen, and it will continue to rise until it bursts out at the last great Easter, when the saints rise up in glory like the Son.
Monday, March 21, 2011
The Gospel of Lent
Thursday, March 10, 2011
A Few Thoughts on the Church Calendar
Reformation is exciting. Recovering the treasures of our fathers and grandfathers in the faith is encouraging and heartening. And one of those great treasures is the Church Year.
Many believers in many different denominations and traditions are recovering the Church Year. While there remains a good deal of caution among Protestants regarding the lingering connotations of abuses from medieval Roman Catholicism with the Church Calendar, Presbyterians are celebrating Advent. Baptists are describing the richness of Lent. Christmas and Easter, the two "High Holy Days" of American Christianity are receiving even more thoughtful and robust celebration.
And while I would want to be counted among those who share some concerns, I am also supportive of the overall project. On the fourth day of creation, God created the sun, moon, and stars to rule time, keeping track of days, months, seasons, and years. In the New Covenant, we are not under those rulers any more. This is because we have been seated in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus. In Christ and by the working of His Holy Spirit, the promise that was made to Abraham that his descendants would by like the "stars of the heavens" has been fulfilled. In other words, we are no longer under the sun, moon, and stars because we have been enthroned with Jesus in the new heavens of the Church. We have been made kings and priests to our God. In Christ, we are the new rulers of time.
And keeping time is inevitable. There will be rhythms, there will be names, there will be holy days. The only question is what will they be? Will our "high holy days" be 4th of July, Super Bowl Sunday, and Memorial Day? Or will our lives be tuned by the life of Christ and the work of the Spirit in history?
Christians are free to celebrate any of these civil or cultural holidays, but our freedom is most fully realized in grateful worship and praise. The church calendar, understood rightly, is just a way of organizing our worship, a liturgy for time. Just as it is permissible, even necessary for pastors or worship leaders to decide which hymns to sing at which point in the service, when to confess sins, when to remind people of their forgiveness, etc., so too the church calendar is a way of organizing our prayers and songs and praise.
While I might throw out any number of provisos, let me just mention one here: If you are new to the church calendar and you think it's a good idea, your temptation is to jump into the deep end with your clothes on without taking swimming lessons. Or to change the metaphor, there tends to be a "cage stage" for most new ideas. The new idea is your brand new hammer and everything looks like a nail. So the encouragement is to wade in from the shallow end. So for example, if you just realized that we just began Lent, good for you. But don't freak out and swear off the next three days of meals in an effort to "get caught up" or make your kids give up cookies and candy for the next six weeks so they can suffer with you. That only teaches your kids that you are erratic and headstrong, and it will probably frustrate and confuse them more than anything. Maybe just start with reading through an entire gospel with your family over the next six weeks. Find some hymns and psalms that focus on the coming of the Messiah and His sufferings and death on the cross. Read a biography of a saint, a martyr, or a missionary, and think, pray, and discuss what it means to be a disciple of Jesus.
We've encouraged our folks to consider various avenues of ministry or evangelism. Spend some time befriending some folks at a local nursing home, invite your neighbors over for dinner, look for an opportunity to share the gospel with an unbeliever. Start small, start genuine. Don't stress about the details. And as you use these days and weeks and months and years to celebrate the forgiveness and freedom you have in Christ, your traditions will grow up like glorious memorials. And that's really what we want: we want the life of Christ plastered all of our lives.
And here are some resources for thinking through the church calendar as well as Lent in particular:
Christ Church and Trinity Reformed Church Joint Statement on Holy Days
Is the Church Year Biblical? By Jeff Meyers
The Season of Lent Guide by Elliot Grudem & Bruce Benedict
Church Fathers Lenten Reading Plan
Lenten Meditations by Randy Booth
Several of these and more are available here at Cardiphonia.
Thursday, December 23, 2010
My Song is Love Unknown
I posted this a while back. It was my homily from our Good Friday service last year, but it seems fitting for Christmas as well.
The text is also available here at the Credenda site.
Monday, November 01, 2010
Pastoral Prayer for Reformation Sunday and All Saints' Day
Almighty God, Father, Son, and Spirit, Creator of the heavens and the earth, You spoke this universe by the Word of Your power, and You continually uphold it all by that same Word, and by the mighty working of Your Spirit.
And therefore we praise You and we worship You, as the only God, the only true God. You are Holy and Mighty and Gracious and Just and all Glorious. And we know this because this world and its story is full of Your glory. You framed the heavens and the earth and filled them with treasures, and when we disdained that gift and reached for our own glory, You sent us out into the world. But your grace has followed us down through the ages. And in the seed of the woman you have told and are telling an amazing story.
We give you thanks for righteous Abel who offered worship to you in faith though His brother hated him and spilled his blood on the earth. We praise you for faithful Enoch who walked with you and for Noah who was a preacher of righteousness and the judgment to come. We praise you for Abram who left his father’s house and went to a foreign land on the basis of Your promises. Thank you for the faith of Sarah who laughed when you promised her a son in her old age. Thank you for Rebekah who believed the promise of God and tricked her husband into obeying you. Thank you for the faith of Jacob who blessed his rebellious sons and trusted Your promises despite all appearances. Thank you for Joseph who did not compromise with his master’s wife to stay out of trouble. Thank you for the faith of the midwives who disobeyed the king’s wicked order to kill the Hebrew boys. Thank you for the faithfulness of Moses though Israel was stubborn and hard-hearted. We praise you for Rahab who hid the spies and lied to the soldiers who were looking for them. Thank you for her grace and cunning. Thank you for Joshua who taught the people how to destroy cities with trumpets. And for Gideon who knew that every battle belongs to You. And we worship you for Deborah and Barak and Jael, and we praise you for Siserah’s head crushed by a tent peg. Thank you for David who was a man after Your own heart; thank you for his faith and courage and for his sling and for the songs that he sang. Thank you for Jeremiah and Ezekiel; thank you for Micah and Jonah and Malachi, prophets who declared Your word fearlessly despite the consequences, despite the shame, despite their inadequacies.
Thank you for Matthew who wrote his gospel by faith. Thank you for the Apostle Paul and Timothy and Titus his disciples who were also faithful pastors and evangelists. Thank you for Phoebe who was a faithful servant of Paul and the church in Cenchrea. We don’t know much about her, but she reminds us of how there were so many faithful saints in those early days of the church who suffered and sacrificed and served gladly for the sake of the Kingdom. We thank you for St. Stephen the first Christian martyr who saw our Lord Jesus in the sky and did not flinch when they stoned him to death. Thank you for Ignatius who was devoured by lions because of his love for you. Thank you for Eustachius and Germanicus and Polycarp and Justin and Irenaeus and Hippolitus and Lawrence and Alban and Sebastian, and the countless thousands of others who gave their lives willingly for the sake of Christ, who did not consider their lives more valuable than the salvation You have won for us. We praise you for mothers who watched their children burned at the stake, and we praise you for children who were faithful even to death.
We thank you for Constantine who loved you and ended the persecution of Your people. We thank you for Athanasius and Augustine and Ambrose and Leo and Gregory. Thank you for Boniface and Bede; and for all those nameless scribes who copied out the Scriptures faithfully over the centuries so that we might have them today in our hands. Thank you for Thomas Acquinas and John Huss and Wycliffe and Calvin and Bucer and Luther. And thank you for Luther’s wife, Katie. We praise you for Cranmer and Hooper and Latimer and the many faithful Huguenots who were slaughtered for their love of the cross. We give you thanks for John Bunyan and John Foxe and William Carey and George Whitefield and John Wesley for their faithful proclamations of the gospel. We praise you for Hudson Taylor, Gresham Machen, Jim Eliot, C.S. Lewis, G.K. Chesterton, Alexander Schmemann, Bessie Wilson, and Betty Appel.
We praise you for all Christian wives and mothers who have offered their daily labors to their husbands and children with cheerful love of Christ. Thank you for how they have given of themselves in so many small ways rising early, staying up late, making meals, doing laundry, teaching lessons, disciplining, and loving, pouring themselves out, serving gladly, offering their bodies as living sacrifices to you. And we bless them now before Your throne and we give you thanks and praise for them. Thank you for faithful children down through the ages who image what we must become to enter the Kingdom. Thank you for peanut butter and jelly smears on their faces. Thank you for their prayers and their lessons. Thank you for their exuberance. Thank you for the gift of faith you have bestowed upon them. And thank you for the millions of little ones that we have not yet met but who rejoice around Your throne in glory. Thank you for the poor, the sick, the outcasts, the mentally and physically disabled. We thank you for your people who make us laugh, thank you for those who tell stories, thank you for those who remember and help us remember. Thank you for all honorable occupations. Thank you for hard, honest work. Thank you for secretaries and auto mechanics, thank you for writers and missionaries, thank you for doctors and nurses and accountants and artists. Thank you for teachers and deacons, thank you for coaches and architects and pilots and janitors and senators. We praise you for your people in China and Russia and Egypt and Ivory Coast and Columbia and Mexico and Finland and Italy and France and Iraq and Afghanistan and Myanmar. We thank you and we praise you for all your saints, all your faithful down through the centuries, and we praise you for those who are still yet to come, that innumerable company of saints yet to play their part on the stage. We thank you that in the gift of the Spirit you have rushed us up into the heavenly places and that by Your mighty working we are united to all your saints throughout time and space and that in a mystery we are bound together in Christ.
Our gracious God and Father, we are undone by your goodness, we are glad, and we are deeply grateful to you. But we are most deeply thankful for our Lord Jesus Christ who is the Holy One of Israel, the One who has been anointed with the fullness of Your Holy Spirit, the One in Whom all saints find their rest. We praise you for our Lord Jesus Christ who is the only begotten Son of God and who is the seed of the woman come to crush the serpent’s head. And we give thanks to You for all Your people chiefly because in them we have seen Christ manifested. For You have poured out His Spirit on all flesh, and You have begun to remake this world by Your wonderful grace and love.
And so we worship You now, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, for You are worthy of all glory and praise, unto ages of ages. Amen!
Friday, May 28, 2010
On Trinity Talk: Meaning of Easter
Friday, April 09, 2010
Good Friday Homily: My Song is Love Unknown
[Update: the link has been fixed, 12.9.10]
Here's a recording of my homily from Good Friday. Some of you asked about it.
It's under Trinity Reformed Church, entitled "My Song is Love Unknown."
Thanks to Jamie Soles for the idea for this sermon in his song "Glory and Beauty" from his album Memorials.
Monday, April 05, 2010
God Back: Celebrating Eastertide
Happy Easter to one and all. Christ is risen!
I trust that your Eastertide celebrations are off to a good start. Hopefully you've put some plans together for the next 40 or 50 days.
Historically the Church has celebrated not just one day but an entire season, remembering and reveling in the fact that when Jesus rose from the dead, death died. Sin and guilt and death have been rendered powerless, and the new life of the Kingdom has invaded this world.
We've decided to do gifts in our family this Easter Season. Every Saturday night for the next 7 weeks, we have gifts for the kids, and Jenny and I have a few things for each other as well.
Maybe you could mark Eastertide with several extra dates with your wife? Maybe take the kids to the movies or bowling or maybe something as simple as the McDonald's playland? Or maybe you should push yourself creatively. Write poetry. Make music. Paint. Dance. Eat chocolate (more than usual, I mean).
Of course celebration of resurrection life should also include looking for ways to share life, give life. At Trinity, we have an Easter Festival each year with games for the kids, a big feast, dancing, and various forms of singing and entertainment. We've also made this festival a fundraiser for the local Care Net crisis pregnancy center. We want our celebration of the resurrection to be something that blesses our community.
My wife has a number of Easter-ish items out these days: flowers, a twisted wreath of thorns from our Rose bush, of course lots of jelly beans and chocolates, and a few picture story books recounting the passion and resurrection. One story book is a word for word retelling of the passion and resurrection from John's gospel artistically rendered in silhouettes, very tastefully and thoughtfully done.
Anyway, when my two year old sees that picture book she frequently grimaces slightly and with a concerned look on her face says, "God died." Sometimes she'll even go on about it a little. "God died.... Oh... hurt... Oh... died...," her face showing concern and her intonations sinking sadly with the weight of the words. Sometimes she gets to the rest of the story on her own, but sometimes we have to prompt her for the punch line. But then what happened? What happened after God died?
It's fun to watch her face light up as she remembers, and then matter-of-factly states, "God back." Which translated means that God came back from the dead. God came back. God is back. Occasionally, she toddles through the room and glancing up at the book, she nonchalantly reminds herself and the rest of the listening room, "God back."
Which is what Easter season is all about. Easter is all about living and proclaiming the fact that God is back. Back from the dead, back in fellowship with us, taking back this world with His grace and mercy.
So fill your glasses with something to warm and gladden your hearts, and share that joy with your people. God is back.
Monday, March 29, 2010
Palm Sunday: Triumphal Entry By Night: Mk. 14:12-31
Introduction
Today we celebrate the triumphal entry of Jesus into Jerusalem. Lent as a season is a call to follow Jesus, and the gospels make it plain that this means following Jesus to Jerusalem where He was crucified. This road to Jerusalem culminates in Christ’s triumphal entry into Jerusalem amid acclamations and palm branches, but Mark goes on to show us a second triumphal entry. And today we consider why.
Royalty Previewed
Mark records the first entry in chapter 11 and the second entry in chapter 14. We should begin by noting that both triumphal entries are preceded by recognitions of Jesus’ royalty. In Mk. 10:46-52, Jesus heals blind Bartimaeus in Jericho. Not only does Jericho remind us of the conquest under Joshua, but Bartimaeus calls out and addresses Jesus as “Son of David” (Mk. 10:47-48). In Mk. 14:3-9, Jesus is anointed with very costly oil. Jesus says that this anointing is for his burial, but we know that the burial of Jesus is the beginning of His enthronement. Jesus alludes to the royal undertones of this action by referring to the anointing/burial as “this gospel which will be preached in the whole world” (14:9).
Royalty Enacted
In Mk. 11:1-6 there is a curious amount of space used to describe how two disciples go ahead of Jesus into Jerusalem to find a colt, details about their interaction with those who wonder what they are doing, and Christ’s authority over it all. Likewise, and this is where the parallels become unmistakable, in Mk. 14:12-16, Jesus again sends two disciples ahead into Jerusalem this time to find a room to celebrate Passover. Again they are given detailed instructions about how to interact with those they see and speak to, and Christ’s authority over it all. In both stories Jesus sends His disciples as royal attendants, as messengers of the King. And in both stories, the authority of the King extends to all of the details.
The King Enthroned
In Mk. 11:7-10, Jesus rides into Jerusalem publically, unmistakably in the form of an ancient Israelite king (e.g. 1 Kg. 1:33ff, 2 Kg. 9:13). This regal procession goes all the way into the temple (Mk. 11:11, cf. Ps. 118) where Jesus begins inspecting the house of God and finds it defiled with robbers (MK. 11:15ff). Jesus comes to make His Father’s house a house of prayer and mercy (Mk. 11:17, 25-26, 12:33, 40), but because it is full of robbers who devour widows houses (Mk. 12:41-44), Jesus declares its destruction (Mk. 13:1-2). In Mk. 14:17, Jesus goes into Jerusalem by night and begins inspecting His house of friends which includes a robber who will betray Him (Mk. 14:18-21, cf. Jn. 12:6). Here, despite the betrayer, Jesus offers prayer and true sacrifice in the meal that memorializes His own death, and yet Jesus foretells that this “house” will also be struck and the stones will be scattered (Mk. 14:27ff). Both houses will be struck, but the difference is Jesus. Where Jesus is, there is healing and mercy and fellowship (Mk. 14:3).
Jesus is Still King: From Glory to Glory
What does all this mean? Why the second triumphal entry? And what does it tell us about the first?
Jesus is still King: Clearly, Mark would have us see that Jesus is still King in the daylight and at night. He is King when He is surrounded by admiring crowds and He is King when He is seated quietly at dinner with a few close friends. He prepares the way, he plans ahead, and rules the details. He is Lord; He is Teacher.
Jesus is still King because He is establishing true worship. The first triumphal entry seems a bit odd at first. Jesus rides into the city like a conquering king, goes into the temple, and after looking around, leaves anticlimactically as it is getting late (Mk. 11:11). Jesus seems to miss the opportunity to do something really great. And the second entry into Jerusalem underscores this. What would you do with that opportunity? But the Last Supper is the new covenant in the blood of Christ, true sacrifice.
Jesus is still King because He is not threatened by those who will deny Him. Instead, he ministers to them. If the first triumphal entry is conquest (Mk. 10:46), then Bartimaeus is the type of Israel being healed and following Jesus (Mk. 10:52). The disciples are still blind (Mk. 14:29, 31), but Jesus will heal them too. Frequently we are still blind. We are disciples, vying for positions in the kingdom (Mk. 10:35-37). And we don’t see where Jesus is leading us. We don’t see that greatness is serving.
But there is also a maturity dimension to this. Jesus is still King because He is David grown up. He is the son of David come to have mercy on us. A son takes up the mantle of his father, but a faithful son also glorifies his father. This is another way of saying that sons are called to grow up and become older than their fathers. Jesus doesn’t deny His own sonship and therefore doesn’t deny His Davidic lordship, and His public triumphal entry is not a failure. But it is the glory of youth, the glory of strength and beauty. And part of the lesson of the triumphal entry by night is the glory of maturity, the glory of old age, the glory of wisdom. And wisdom sees the power of sacrifice, the authority of mercy, communion, and worship. From the glory of public acclamation to the glory of sacrifice and service, Jesus is still King.
In the Name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, Amen.
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Ash Wednesday Homily: Lent is for Evangelism
Stephen was stoned to death. James was beheaded. Matthew was pinned to the ground and beheaded. James the brother of Jesus was thrown off the temple tower and clubbed to death. Following Jesus is dangerous.
Matthias was stoned and then beheaded. Andrew was crucified on an X-shaped cross. Mark was dragged to his death. Peter was crucified upside down.
Paul was beheaded. Jude was crucified. Bartholomew was beaten and crucified. Thomas was tortured, run through with spears, and thrown into the flames of an oven. Luke was hung from an olive tree.
If the season of Lent is an annual, concentrated reminder of the call of discipleship, the call to follow Jesus, then Lent is dangerous.
Lent is dangerous because there is historical controversy associated with it. While it had been celebrated for over a thousand years by the time of Calvin, there was so much superstition associated with it that he counseled against keeping Lent. Lent is dangerous because there are a number of ways to celebrate it badly: morbid introspection, conjuring up vague guilt and feeling holy for it, prideful abstaining from food and drink, looking down on those who don’t celebrate. False humility is as easy as lighting a dead Christmas tree on fire. One little spark and we puff up.
But Lent is dangerous ultimately because the cross is dangerous. The message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing but to those who are being saved it is the power of God (1 Cor. 1:18). To those who want to find another way to grace, another path to mercy, the cross is an offense (Gal. 5:11). The sinful heart of man is offended by grace, offended by the folly of the cross. We would rather be proud in all sorts of ways.
In the first century it was Jews who wanted to put guard rails up around the cross, the old Jewish laws – circumcision and Sabbath – were safe and established “marks,” identifying the people of God. But Paul says that he will only boast in the cross of Christ, he will only boast in the victory of God in Jesus, “by whom the world has been crucified to me, and I to the world” (Gal. 6:14).
The cross is Paul’s mark, his only pride. He writes the Thessalonians: “You became followers of us and of the Lord, having received the word in much affliction, with joy of the Holy Spirit, so that you became examples to all in Macedonia and Achaia who believe. For from you the word of the Lord has sounded forth, not only in Macedonia and Achaia, but also in every place. Your faith toward God has gone out, so that we do not need to say anything” (1 Thess. 1:6-8).
Paul says that the Thessalonians followed the apostles and the Lord Jesus such that they became examples or “marks” to everyone. They became “marks” to all those who believe in Macedonia and Achaia, but even beyond that, he says that the “word of the Lord has sounded forth” not just locally but “also in every place.” Paul says that they have become examples, types, marks displayed for the world to see so that the apostles don’t need to remind anyone about the Thessalonians. It’s clear for everyone to see; the apostles don’t need to say anything. Everyone knows.
And Paul describes how they became marks and examples for the world. They became these marks through receiving the word in affliction and with joy. From Acts we know that the city of Thessalonica had been roused into an angry mob by jealous Jews when some members of the synagogue began following the gospel preached by Paul. The Thessalonian Christians faced affliction and persecution for following Jesus, but they did so with joy in the Holy Spirit.
Following Jesus has always been a call to take risks, to risk reputation, risk danger, risk all pride. The call to follow Jesus is not a call to comfort, dignity, or respectability. Jesus says, “Remember the word that I said to you, ‘A servant is not greater than his master.’ If they persecuted Me, they will also persecute you. If they kept my word, they will keep yours also.” (Jn. 15:20) And the witness of thousands of Christians down through the centuries calls us to follow Jesus, taking up the cross, taking up the dangers, taking up the risks.
Ignatius was the pastor of the church in Antioch when he was arrested and extradited to Rome. He wrote to the Roman church pleading with them not to try to deliver him because that would deprive him of what he most longed and hoped for. He wrote: “Now I begin to be a disciple. I care for nothing of visible or invisible things so that I may but win Christ. Let fire and the cross, let the companies of wild beasts, let breaking of bones and tearing of limbs, let the grinding of the whole body, and all the malice of the devil, come upon me; be it so, only may I win Christ Jesus.” It is said that as he was sentenced to be fed to lions, Ignatius said, “I am the wheat of Christ: I am going to be ground with the teeth of wild beasts that I may be found pure bread.”
Following Jesus is dangerous. The call to follow Jesus is the call to take up our cross and follow Him. And that cross is not just for decoration. The cross is not merely a symbol. The cross is the power of God for salvation. It displays God’s love and justice for the world. The cross is foolishness to Greeks and blasphemy to the Jews. The cross is the glory of God. God loves that part in the story where death dies, where weakness triumphs, where mercy bursts out of violence.
Peter exhorts the elders of the church not to rule the churches as “lords” over those entrusted to them, but as “examples to the flock.” As Paul said that the Thessalonians had become examples or marks, Peter calls the elders to be “marks” for the flock to see. Likewise, Paul exhorted Timothy and Titus to be “marks” for the believers in their churches (1 Tim. 4:12, Tit. 2:7). Where does this idea come from? What does it mean to be “marks” for others to see?
This idea goes back to Jesus. The same word is only used once in the gospels in John: Thomas says that he will not believe that Jesus is risen from the dead unless he sees the marks of the nails in the hands of Jesus and puts his fingers in the holes and places his hand into His side (Jn. 20:25).
What Paul and Peter and the rest of the apostles and disciples came to understand was their calling to be the marks of Jesus for all to see. We are called to be the nail marks of Jesus for the world so that the world will see and believe. The call to follow Jesus is always a call to look like Jesus, to display the life of Jesus in our lives, in our words, in our actions, to bear the marks of the Lord Jesus in our bodies. Many Christians are hunted down by unbelievers and God displays His grace in their suffering. But if we are not being turned into marks through violent oppression, our marching orders are pretty straightforward. We are called into all the world to preach the gospel. If Lent is for remembering the cross in order that the marks of Jesus might be evident in our lives then Lent is for evangelism.
Several Practical Suggestions
First, if you plan to fast during Lent, do not kid yourself into thinking that fasting is the same thing as suffering for Jesus. Just because the pastor said that Lent is dangerous doesn’t mean you’re being a great risk taker by abstaining from chocolate or coffee or beer. Do not come up here and take the sign of the cross upon your forehead and pat yourself on the back and say that you have somehow done something courageous for Jesus. The point of abstaining, the point of taking the cross upon your brow, the point of prayer and fasting, the point of all this must be evangelistic, inviting the gospel to fill our lives, our families, our communities. The point is to make time to pray for the lost, to love the lost, to invite the lost and the hurting into our homes, and to share life with the lost and dying in our community. Abstaining from something is not the mark of Christ, but if you give yourself to heart-aching prayer for your neighbors, you have begun to be a disciple. If you plead with an unbelieving loved one to submit to Christ, the word of the Lord is going forth. If you graciously confront your roommate for obvious sin and folly, realizing that you may lose or strain a friendship, you are beginning to be a disciple. If you love your wife like Christ loved the church, and give yourself away for her more and more sacrificially, you are beginning to be a disciple.
And if you fast, let your fasting and prayer be toward particular ends, particular needs, particular hurts, not vague feelings. Fasting does not benefit us. Fasting is a bodily posture. Just as you might kneel or lift your hands in prayer, so too fasting is a posture of humility and urgency. Some of you need to learn to fast and pray. You might dedicate one day a week, one meal a week, you might do it individually, or as a family. But the point is not for a show of piety, the point is not to harness some mystical power. The point is to cry out to God. Peter says that humility is evidenced in casting all our cares upon the God who cares for us. Some of you need to cry out to God because you haven’t been. Some of you need to cry out to God because you’ve been carrying all your cares yourself, because you are weighed down with burdens and stress and fear and unbelief. Use this season of Lent to repent. Set aside time to pray, to pour out your heart to the Lord. And pray it out. Pray until it’s all out. Pray your cares on to the God who cares for you.
Next, and related to the first point is that abstaining ought to always be pointed toward some sort of giving. If we celebrate Lent as a community it ought to be an obvious blessing to everyone around us. People ought to be glad that Trinity celebrates Lent. Last year, you will recall that we encouraged you all to consider spending one evening a week with the elderly folks at Aspen Park. That Tuesday evening visit is still going on every week, and I would encourage you to consider participating in that again. There are a number of students who still regularly attend, but those of you with young children cannot overestimate the kind of joy and blessing you can bring to the elderly by sharing your little ones with them. So consider visiting Aspen Park on a Tuesday evening during Lent. Or if you have other elderly friends or relatives, plan to visit them and encourage them and show them the love of Christ in the coming weeks.
Lastly, this year, the elders would like you to give particular attention and consideration to evangelism. First, we want to ask all of you to consider having your neighbors over for dinner or dessert. And by neighbors we mean the people who live next door and across the street. Maybe you could plan one meal a week or just two or three meals over the next number of weeks. And focus your attention particularly on neighbors who are unbelievers or who don’t attend church. The point is not to trap them in your house and then stand up on your chair at dinner and deliver a lengthy sermon. The point is to love them as your neighbors, get to know them and if possible invite them to church. The elders are also organizing a couple of other opportunities. Over the next number of weeks we are aiming to take time on at least two Saturdays to go into some of our neighborhoods, to introduce ourselves as members of Trinity Reformed Church and invite folks to come to church. Again, the idea isn’t for everyone in the church to be street preachers; the idea is that we all have neighbors that we are commanded to love. Watch your email over the next few days as we finalize details, and please plan to join us.
Lent is all about the cross, the message of the cross, the marks of the cross, the risk of the cross, the danger of the cross, the joy of the cross. And tonight we are gathered together to renew our commitment to this cross, to this scandal, to this danger, to this Savior.
Polycarp was a disciple of the Apostle John. He was arrested as an old man and taken before the governor who sentenced him to be burned at the stake. Yet the governor offered to release Polycarp if he would curse Christ, and Polycarp answered: “Eighty-six years I have served him, and he never once wronged me. How then shall I blaspheme my king who has saved me?” He was tied to the stake rather than nailed, as was the usual custom because he assured them that he would stand still in the flames. After the fire was lit and it had burned for a while without consuming him, the order was given and the executioner pierced him with a sword.
May God give us grace to follow the Lord Jesus with the same joy and faith and loyalty. And may we become the marks of Christ, calling the world to faith in our crucified and risen King.
In the Name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, Amen.
Friday, December 25, 2009
On the First Day of Christmas...
Merry Christmas and Happy First Day of Christmas for those of you just getting started.
One of my fondest memories of Christmas growing up is my dad sitting in a cozy, overstuffed chair in his pajamas. All day. While there's such great blessing in having family nearby, we rarely did growing up, and so we'd occasionally have a dinner on Christmas Eve with friends from church. But Christmas Day was wonderful and glorious because not only were there piles of presents and new toys and books and games, but Dad was home and we did nothing all day long. But it was particularly exciting to watch Dad do nothing. What a gift. This was a glorious picture to the family of Sabbath rest. Like God on the seventh day, doing nothing. Having worked hard, having piled up gifts all around his children, he sat down and rested, and that is a gift. It was all the more amazing because Dad never did that. He always got up early to work on something, frequent meetings in the evenings, and an all around busy schedule. And on Christmas, he just sat there in his chair. He'd look at books, snack on whatever little tidbits of food were making the rounds, maybe peak at a few minutes of a new movie, but just sit there mostly and probably doze off in the late afternoon sun.
We're still trying to figure out how to handle extended feasting. What should 12 days of Christmas look like all grown up? Or how about 7 weeks of Easter for that matter? In some ways, I don't think the 12 Days is so far off. Many already take a full week off from Christmas Eve through New Years which is a good start. Seems to me that a couple weeks of feasting does not require Thanksgiving style meals every single day. I have one friend who makes a list of the family's favorite foods and drinks (with input from the kids) and picks one or two things for each day. Those favorite foods and drinks are out on the table (or counter) all day long. But just resting is a kind of feasting. Sitting around enjoying friends and family, playing games, taking naps, reading together, trying out new toys, snacking on the favorite foods, singing, all of this is feasting.
Of course we might try to extend some of the gift giving. One cool benefit to doing a few more gifts after Christmas Day is the ensuing post-Christmas sales. So far, we've gone with giving one more gift on Epiphany (the 13th day after Christmas). And we've tended to theme our gifting on Epiphany. One year we did a music theme (several new CD's). The last couple of years we've done games: card games, board games, etc. The last couple of years my wife has also baked a Kings' Cake which is a traditional Epiphany activity. We go down to the bank and get a gold dollar coin and a silver half dollar and bake them in a cake. Later that night, we serve up the cake and whoever comes up with a coin in their slice gets to keep the coin. I suppose this is just a fun way of remembering the Magi and their gifts as well as the Epiphany celebration of Jesus being light to the nations and our confident hope that they will all bring their riches into the Kingdom.
I've got another friend who says they're starting a new tradition of burning the Christmas tree on Epiphany, which I must admit sounds fantastic. We have made a point to keep the tree up through Epiphany for a number of years, though the tree is dried to a crisp by that point, every slight vibration in the room causing an avalanche of needles to fall. And this is all the more compounded by the fact that we usually get our tree for the First Sunday of Advent. Some Christian needs to figure out how to make *live* trees last for 6 weeks. But at this point, I'm convinced that our Christmas Tree Fire (should we have one) would be fairly short lived.
At the very least, we've planned the next 12 days as days of rest with activities interspersed. In addition to two Lord's Days with worship, we have a couple of family get-togethers, an ice skating outing one day, bowling another day, and probably a trip to the movies somewhere in there as well. We've also got a babysitter for a date one evening. I plan to emulate my father as much as possible in between the activities, holding down one of the couches with a cup of coffee in hand and a short stack of books nearby. There will likely be small people climbing around me here and there and toys and books and food, and don't be surprised if you find me dozing off in the late afternoon sun. I've got traditions to keep.
Monday, November 16, 2009
Making a Big Deal About the Goodness of God
We are drawing near to the end of Trinity Season in the Church calendar. Two weeks from today is the First Sunday in Advent, the four weeks leading up to Christmas. Advent is the beginning and the end of the Church Year. It is the end in so far as it commemorates the final coming of the Lord Jesus in judgment at the end of the world, the culmination of all things. And it is the beginning in so far as we look back and remember all the advents of God in history, culminating in the Incarnation. And as we look forward to this season, I want to exhort you to two things: First, on the practical side, you should start preparing now for Advent and Christmas and the coming celebration of the life of Christ. But your preparation should not be based on the commercials and advertisements and catalogues that are beginning to fill your mailboxes. Of course, we want to be a people full of generosity and gift giving is certainly part of that, but begin planning for it. This means planning with regard to your budget, planning to be generous, planning to share with others. This means planning your calendar: how will you celebrate Advent with your family? What about Christmas? How about Epiphany? How will you remember together and with friends and neighbors? Remember that the calendar is really just an excuse to say thank you; the calendar is a way of organizing your thankfulness to God and we express that gratitude by sharing it with our children, with our neighbors, and coworkers. The last point is that we want to do all of this in light of the end. Advent remembers all the ways God has come, and looks forward in faith to all the ways He will continue to come, culminating in His second coming, the Final Advent when the Lord comes to judge the living and the dead. And this means that we want to celebrate, give thanks, and rejoice in light of eternity, in light of the Final Advent. We want to celebrate now as those who are ready for the return of the Master. Of course Jesus may not return for another fifty thousand years, but remembering the end of the story is one of the best ways to be faithful in the middle of it. And the point is just be thankful and rejoice in the Lord, don’t put on a show, don’t envy your neighbors, don’t pat yourself on the back for doing more than the guy down at that other church. Just be thankful, and use every chance you get to make a big deal about the goodness of God.
Friday, April 24, 2009
We're Only Half Way Through Easter
Historically, the Christian Church has celebrated the resurrection not merely on Resurrection Sunday but has devoted an entire season of the year to feasting and merriment. This season known as "Eastertide" and "The Great Fifty Days" lasts for six more Sundays after Easter Sunday, culminating fifty days later on Pentecost Sunday. We already know how to celebrate a season of feasting: Christmas celebrations begin well before December 25th and last for a week or two after Christmas day. In the same way, we want our joy at the resurrection to be so deep, so overflowing, that it cannot be celebrated in a single day. The TRC Easter Festival is but a small attempt at re-learning and re-claiming our Christian heritage of festivity and gladness.
Christ is risen! Death is swallowed up in victory.
Christ is risen! Therefore, we must dance.
Christ is risen! Therefore, we must eat, drink, and be merry.
Come join us as we attempt to make an even bigger deal out of this reality that is truly too good for mere words.
The Easter Festival will be held on May 9th from 5:00-10:00pm. In an effort to keep things family-friendly, all the activities except dancing will wrap up around 8:00. The general outline of the evening will be:
Dinner
Musical performances (during dessert)
Games and Activities (for the kids)
One Act Play
Dancing
Tickets are $10 per individual, $18 per couple, and $30 per family, and TRC will donate all proceeds (after costs) to Care-Net.
Reservations can be made by contacting the Trinity Reformed Church office, 208.882.2300 or trinityreformedchurch@gmail.com.
Reservation deadline is May 2.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Holy Saturday Homily: Luke 24:13-35
Opening Prayer: Pour out your Spirit upon us, O God, pour out the Spirit of Jesus on us, that we might see Him and know Him in the Scriptures. Amen.
We can’t see Jesus. Sometimes my son reminds me of this fact. We serve a King that we can’t see. Jesus is absent; He’s not here. And that’s particularly startling in some ways when we come to Easter, when we come to celebrating the resurrection of Jesus. When it comes to declaring to one another and to the world that He is risen, that Jesus is alive, it can seem a little awkward when He’s not here.
And there is an important sense in which this reality will not change until Jesus returns, until the great and final resurrection. That will be wonderful and glorious, and it is exciting to imagine what that will be like, what it will be like to see Jesus, to walk and talk with him. Of course that is part of what we long for when we look for the resurrection of the dead and the life everlasting. We long to see Jesus, we long to be with him. We long to walk and talk with Him. But then we’re celebrating Easter. We’re celebrating Jesus alive again from the dead. And He’s not here for the celebration.
But our text in Luke suggests that there are different ways for Jesus to be absent, different ways for Him to be missed. And Luke’s point is that the problem is not just that we cannot see Jesus. The problem is not merely with Jesus being absent. It’s not merely a question of proximity or presence. We sometimes think that if Jesus were here, if Jesus were only closer, then we would see Him. He’s just too far away, we think. But that’s not really true. That’s not true because sometimes he’s right in front of people and they don’t recognize him. Sometimes he walks along with them and talks with them, and their eyes are restrained so that they do not know Him.
The story is of course fascinating, ironic, but also somewhat troubling. Jesus apparently overtakes these two disciples who are leaving Jerusalem. Their hopes have been shattered by the events of the last couple of days. It is the third day since these things have happened (24:21). And now there are strange reports of visions and angels saying that He is alive, but no one has seen Him (24:24). The problem is that no one has seen Jesus alive. Apparently this has all been too much for these two disciples, and they are leaving. No one has seen Jesus; they will not nurse false hopes.
And notice that Jesus does not rebuke them for leaving Jerusalem or for not recognizing Him. He rebukes them for not believing. Their problem is fundamentally a problem of faith. He says that their problem is that they don’t believe all that the prophets have spoken (24:25). And Jesus gives the two disciples a Bible lesson so that they might know what to believe concerning the Christ (24:26). Jesus starts at the beginning and works his way all the way to the end, from Moses, through all of the prophets, and all of the scriptures (24:27), showing how the Messiah was to come, suffer at the hands of wicked men, and then enter into His glory (24:26). The problem with the two disciples is that they have not been reading their Bibles correctly. They have a faulty hermeneutic.
Jesus says that they have been slow to believe what the prophets have spoken, slow to believe what Moses and all of the Scriptures taught concerning the Messiah. They can’t see Jesus right in front of them because they can’t see Jesus in the Scriptures. They can’t believe the reports of the angels and visions because they have not believed the words of the prophets. They have heard the words, they have read and sung the words, but they have not believed them. And of course it’s all the more painful to read this episode knowing that it is Jesus Himself who is explaining all of this to them. He is the one showing them Himself in the Scriptures. But that’s strange; that’s really troubling. Why not just shake their shoulders and look in their faces and tell them? Why does Jesus point away from Himself? Why does Jesus allow them to walk with Him and not see Him? Jesus is there, and yet He is not there for them. Would Jesus do that to us? Would Jesus walk and talk with us and point us away from Himself?
They draw near to where they are staying and convince Jesus to come with them (24:29). It is evening, and they invite him to fellowship with them, to eat and rest with them. And of course it is finally in the breaking of the bread that their eyes are suddenly opened and they recognize Jesus (24:31). But perhaps the most troubling thing about the story is that He immediately vanishes (24:31). Just as they finally see Jesus, He disappears. Just as they see Him, they do not see Him. What is Jesus doing? When He was with them, they did not see Him, and He pointed them to the Scriptures, and then when they finally see Him, He’s gone. When He was there they did not see Him, and when they finally saw Him, He was not there.
The disciples recall the whole conversation, the whole walk, His explanations of the Scriptures, and they know that He was with them. He was speaking to them through the words of Scripture, He was showing them Himself in the prophets, and it was finally in the breaking of the bread that He was made known.
And even there, the disciples draw our attention to the breaking of the bread. In one sense of course, their eyes were opened and they saw Jesus when He gave thanks and broke the bread, but the disciples themselves draw attention to the fact that it was in the breaking of the bread, that they knew Him (24:35). The breaking of the bread was not merely a time marker i.e. that was when it happened. The breaking of the bread is something more like a key to the explanation. The breaking of the bread was how they saw Him, it was the means by which they finally recognized Him.
But why does Jesus point away? Why does Jesus point away from Himself to the Scriptures, and why after He has gone, do the disciples remember the breaking of the bread? Why does the resurrected Jesus only seem to want to show Himself elsewhere?
Sometimes the post-resurrection elusiveness of Jesus has been a cause of theological slipperiness. Maybe the point of the resurrection really is more about an idea than a fact, some have wondered. Maybe Jesus seemed to be raised from the dead, but who’s to say if it was really a bodily resurrection? If the resurrection was so true, so real, why did He leave so quickly afterwards? Seems kind of convenient to have the Ascension so fast after the resurrection. And when Jesus was actually around, He wasn’t really Himself. He’d show up randomly, walk through doors, and then vanish without a word. If the resurrection was so real, so true, so glorious, if Jesus really did burst out of a tomb with His body all alive, all vigorous, why was He so elusive? Why when disciples were troubled and sad, did He point them away from Himself? Why didn’t He just speak up? Why didn’t He stay around for a few more years just so it all got documented really well? Was Jesus shy about the resurrection? And many critics of the Christian faith have suggested this very thing. And other, confused and troubled Christians have been sometimes been willing to waffle on the resurrection for these very reasons.
Why does the resurrected Jesus point away from Himself? Why does the Resurrection look somewhat fleeting, somewhat hidden, somewhat shy?
Perhaps part of the answer has to do with what is coming, what is next in the story of redemption. When the Scriptures declared that the Messiah would suffer and enter into His glory, part of that glory is the beginning of a new ministry that points away from Jesus. The cross was His moment in the spotlight, but the resurrection was the beginning of a transition from His moment in the spotlight to the ministry of the Spirit. And so Jesus points away from Himself. He points to the words of the prophets, the work of the Holy Spirit. He points to the breaking of the bread, the Eucharist, and the work of the Spirit. He doesn’t introduce Himself, He doesn’t stay around very long, He doesn’t look every disciple in the eyes and reintroduce Himself. No, He points away from Himself. He points them to the Spirit.
Later in the chapter Jesus does appear to all of the disciples, and again eats with them and fellowships with them. But once again He immediately points them to the Scriptures (24:44-48) and then tells them that they will be the witnesses of these things but to wait in Jerusalem for the promise of the Father, the power from on high, the gift of the Spirit (24:49). After the resurrection Jesus points away from Himself, He points to the Scriptures, He points to the Spirit. John the Baptist had pointed away from himself and said that there was One coming who was mightier than him, and it was Jesus who was then baptized and the Spirit came upon Him. But now Jesus is doing the pointing, and He’s pointing at the Scriptures and pointing at His disciples and telling them that they are about to be endued with power from on high.
And of course Jesus did pour out His Spirit at Pentecost, and that Spirit has become the main character in the story of redemption. The Holy Spirit has become the center of God’s work in this world, and this work takes place in the Church, in you. And of course John’s gospel dwells on the fact that this Spirit is the presence of Jesus with us. The Holy Spirit is the Spirit of the Resurrected Jesus. But Jesus still points away from Himself. He points to the Scriptures, He points to the breaking of the bread, He points at you, His beloved people as His presence.
And in that sense it is highly fitting that we should be celebrating the resurrection some two thousand years later, that we should be declaring that Jesus has been raised from the dead, and He not be here. It’s resurrection style to point out where the Spirit is at work. It shouldn’t be surprising that we can’t see Jesus at this moment right in front of us. He’s pointing away from Himself, pointing at the Scriptures point at the bread broken, the wine poured out.
As we celebrate the resurrection of Jesus, Jesus wants us to look where He’s pointing, Jesus wants us to see the work of the Spirit. Resurrection Life is fairly obsessed with the work of the Spirit. Resurrection Life knows the work of the Spirit because it has experienced it first hand and can’t stop pointing out where it’s working now. Look over there, the Spirit is making that person new. Look over that, the Spirit is feeding the hungry. Look over there, that’s the Spirit empowering the Scriptures and showing us Jesus. Look there, in the breaking of the bread, there’s the Spirit of Jesus giving Himself away again.
When Jesus jumped up from the grave, He immediately began pointing at the work of the Spirit, the Scriptures, the Eucharist, His people. Look, He says, I’m right here. And He calls us to believe. Don’t be slow to believe all that the prophets have spoken. Don’t be slow to see Jesus in the Scriptures, slow to believe in the Christ proclaimed there. Don’t be slow to see Jesus in the least of these His brethren. Don’t be slow to see Jesus in the woman next to you, the child in your lap. Because the warning is that if you can’t see Jesus there, you’ll not notice when He’s standing right in front of you. You wouldn’t notice if He was walking and talking with you. Because part of the declaration of Easter is that He is. He is standing right in front of you. He’s sitting right in front of you. Part of the triumph of Easter is that the Risen and Ascended Christ has poured out His Spirit in us, in His body, in the Church. When Paul says that we are the Body of Christ, He is not just trying to come up creative sermon illustrations. We are the temple of the Holy Spirit; we are the presence of the Resurrected Jesus as we gather around His Word and around His Table. We are the witnesses of His sufferings and death and resurrection. We are the proof of the resurrection. Jesus points at us. He points at us in our weakness, in our trials, in our suffering, in our hardships, in our pain. Jesus went to Jerusalem for the joy that was set before Him, and then in glory He pours out the Spirit upon us and says, now you do it. Now you go to Jerusalem in joy, now you take up your cross and follow me.
And so in one sense we cannot Jesus, but in another sense, Jesus keeps pointing at His Word, pointing at the breaking of the breading, pointing at us, and He says there I am, I’m right there. I’m here with you. I am with you always.
In the Name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, Amen!
Closing Prayer: Gracious Father, we give you great praise and thanks that you have raised Jesus from the dead. We thank you for the glory of the resurrection which is the glory of the Spirit, your powerful working to bring life from the dead, to turn sorrow into dancing, your determination to recreate this world, and undo every evil, and put everything right. Give us grace that we might walk in the Spirit, that our lives would be walking proofs of the resurrection, that as Christ points at us, we might more and more evidence the life of the Spirit who raised Jesus from the dead, in whose name we pray, who died but now lives and reigns with You and the Holy Spirit, one God, unto ages of ages. Amen!
Wednesday, March 04, 2009
Art and Sin
Machen writes in 1923 that "a remarkable change has come about within the last seventy-five years. The change is nothing less than the substitution of paganism for Christianity as the dominant view of life." (65) That observation is interesting in itself, but he goes on to explain his point: "Paganism is that view of life which finds the highest goal of human existence in the healthy and harmonious and joyous development of existing human faculties." This is very different from the Christian ideal, which Machen says is the "religion of the broken heart."
What Machen means is not that Christianity is an attitude of "continual beating on the breast," rather Christianity is the religion that faces sin once and for all. Whereas paganism must seek to cover over sin, Christianity actually deals with it. Machen says of ancient paganism, as for example in ancient Greece: "There was always something to be covered up; the enthusiasm of the architect was maintained only by ignoring the disturbing fact of sin." (66) In other words, the drive to make the world beautiful, the drive of pagan architecture, art, drama, and poetry is the guilt and ugliness of unforgiven sin. The haunting of sin is the crucible of pagan art, and the drive to cover over that ugliness produces amazing and glorious works.
But Machen insists that sin "faced squarely once for all," allows Christians to "develop joyously every faculty that God has given him. Such is the higher Christian humanism - a humanism founded not upon human pride but upon divine grace."
Sometimes it's wondered where all the Christian artists are. Behind all the great modern artists are stories of tragedy, father hunger, abuse, addiction. It seems like all the greatest modern artists match Machen's hypothesis of paganism. If you get enough ugliness in life, enough guilt haunting you, that will drive you to fight back in music, in art, in drama, with beauty.
And then from a Protestant point of view, there is sometimes the question about why many of the great Christian artists tend to come out of Roman Catholic or at least high church traditions. Where are all the evangelical Protestant artists? Why is the best we can do frequently a cheap knock off of pagan art? But if there is a connection between art and sin, a relationship between a live, personal knowledge of guilt and the drive to make beauty, the passion for the lovely, one might point to the tendency in higher church traditions and Roman Catholics in particular to spend more time dwelling on the horror of sin, the sufferings of Christ, and the present struggle that every Christian continues to face prior to the resurrection. And even if we want to keep insisting on the need for a robust Protestant doctrine of justification by faith, is there at least some validity to the RC critique that we've overstated our case, or at least presented the biblical teaching in an unbalanced way? Or conversely, we might also wonder if Machen's definition of "pagan" may in someways apply in some Roman Catholic traditions where the indefinite nature of forgiveness is stressed and Limbo becomes the overarching metaphor for life.
Maybe Machen's suggestion is worth considering. Maybe our lack of aesthetics, our lack of drive to create beauty points to an overarching superficiality in our faith. Maybe we have just enough "grace" sprinkled into our worship and life that mitigates our feelings of guilt, but not nearly enough to actually come face to face with sin, the cross, and forgiveness. And maybe, just maybe a robust Reformed celebration of Lent is one of the ways that we can begin to address that lack. Without letting go of any of the "once for all" nature of the atonement and justification, an annual reminder of what that was all about seems entirely fitting. Not an annual drubbing of guilt and fear, but an annual reminder of the cross, an annual reminder of the horror of sin, and an annual reminder of the freedom and joy won for us at the cross. And of course in an important sense, this should not be merely an annual thing, but a daily thing, a weekly thing, a monthly thing. We are always called to take up our cross and follow Jesus daily.
And certainly, regardless of Lenten practice, if Machen's point is correct, it would seem that the evidence suggests that we as Protestant Christians have an anemic view of sin and the atonement. If the horror of sin and the cross and the joy of resurrection and salvation are far more potent motivators for producing beauty, then it would seem we need to revisit our preaching of sin, the cross, and salvation. And on the flip side, it would suggest that the few evangelical Protestant Christian artists who are actually producing real works of art, in addition to simply being gifted by the Spirit, have also come face to face with sin and come to understand real forgiveness, real grace.
Of course in real life there really is tragedy, sin, guilt, and in Christ, forgiveness and mercy. But there is also more "normal" Christian life growing up in the covenant, living faithfully and joyfully before the Lord. It should not be a prerequisite for Christian artists, that they must first go out and be unfaithful for a while. Of course there are always trials, temptations, and even death and sickness rears its head, but we don't need an exotic testimony to know sin and forgiveness because at the center of every Christian life is the cross of Jesus, our own personal tragedy, our own personal horror story, our guilt, our sin, and most importantly, our triumph, our victory, our glory, our joy in Christ. Knowing Christ and him crucified is the wisdom and glory of God in us. And in that sense, Christianity surely is "the religion of the broken heart."
Monday, February 16, 2009
Lent is for Joy
Another thought on Lent:
Historically in the West, Sundays during Lent are not included in the 40 days. In other words, Sundays are always feast days in the midst of a season of preparation and penitence. But this really should not seem strange since all true repentance must flow from a heart of joy and thanksgiving. When we receive the Word of God with gratitude it will confront our sins and rebuke us in our folly, but the thankful heart will immediately look to God for grace, ask for forgiveness, and rejoice to begin again. In other words, repentance and sorrow for sin always flow out of joy and thankfulness in the Lord.
And the point is that this means that Lent is not merely a time to be "sad." Rather, Lent is for joy. But it is a refusal to accept anything less than real joy. If God is faithful and hears our prayers to teach us, to confront us, to deal with our sins, there should certainly be moments and days of sorrow and pain. But because this is all the goodness of God, it is all sorrow that leads to repentance and that is a profoundly joyful thing. Which means that the wisdom of Lent (and other penitential periods) is teaching the people of God deep joy, real joy, deep grace, and that is cause for rejoicing and therefore Lord's Days in Lent should be some of the most robust feast days we celebrate.
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Why Lent?
What is Lent and how should it be celebrated? Historically it is a time of preparation for the Easter Feast. Why should there be preparation leading up to the celebration of the resurrection of Jesus? Well of course every Sunday is a resurrection day, so we’re not pretending that the resurrection hasn’t occurred or anything like that. At the same time, in order to understand, celebrate, and praise the great wisdom of God, it is fitting to recall in a deeper way what God was doing in the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. Spending 40 days contemplating the horror of sin and death and the many ways that we have failed and fall under the curse is all preparation for the joy of Easter. Celebrating Easter with no preparation is sort of like seeing the last five minutes of an amazing football game. If you just flipped the TV on and saw the last five minutes you might think that’s pretty neat, but what if you had been following the team for the entire season? What if they were the underdogs and all the odds seemed to be against them? (Sorry if you’re not into sports!) But the point is that remembering and meditating on the story that leads up to Easter is part of learning to celebrate the resurrection well. We want our Alleluias on Resurrection Sunday and throughout the season of Easter to be louder and more robust because we are simply bursting with thanksgiving for the grace and wisdom of our God.
Monday, February 09, 2009
Bucer on Ash Wednesday
The historical evidence leans the Reformed Church in the direction away from a commemoration of Ash Wednesday and Lent. While reformers like Luther and Bucer sought to retain catholic practices that were not inherently unscriptural or wound up with too much superstition, there is really very little evidence explaining why the practice died out in at least those reformed catholic communities. There are probably other references, but the one explicit comment from Bucer I've found comes in his commentary on the first edition of the Book of Common Prayer. There he commends Cranmer’s Ash Wednesday service, and his only suggestion is that the English Church ought to consider having such a service three or four times a year.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Passover, the Present Tense, Church Calendar, and Eucharist
Famously, the Passover is celebrated by faithful Jews in the present tense.
The youngest child is taught to ask the question, every Passover night, "Why is this night different from all other nights?" The implication is that in an important sense, the celebration of Passover enters into the original Passover. It participates in God's act of salvation.
Deuteronomy teaches parents this very thing as well. When your child asks you, 'what is the meaning of these statutes and the judgments?' The response is supposed to be, "We were slaves in Egypt, and He brought us out from there, and he commanded us to keep these commands..." (Dt. 6:20ff) These instructions are given by Moses to the generation after the forty years in the wilderness, some of whom would not have actually been alive during the enslavement in Egypt and the subsequent Exodus. But covenant identity means that in a more important sense they were there. The covenant that God made was with Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, and their seed.
This makes the great redemptive acts of God part the memory of the covenant people. Israel is still Israel in the conquest is still Israel with kings is still Israel in exile is still Israel in Christ.
We, like that first generation entering the land of Canaan, must teach our children using the same words. We were slaves in Egypt. We were brought out with a strong arm. We were commanded to keep all these commands. We...
And that seems to reinforce the church's instinct to celebrate the Christian Calendar. Covenant identification means that the life of Christ is our story, the history of redemption is our memory, the history of the church is our history. We were slaves in Egypt, we were despised, mocked, and spat upon, we were crucified, we were raised from the dead. We were persecuted and scattered from Jerusalem. We gathered together at Nicaea and proclaimed the glorious doctrine of the Trinity. We overran Europe with the gospel. The last 6000 years of God's people is our story. And (re)enacting these events is one of the ways we assume them as our own, take them into our stories, and affirm in faith that we were slaves in Egypt and that God has delivered us out of bondage and made covenant with us.
Centrally, this is the action of the Eucharist, the great memorial of God's greatest act of salvation, the Great Exodus, the High Passover in the death and resurrection of Jesus. The Eucharist makes the death and resurrection of Jesus present tense. And partaking of the sacrament means communing in the body and blood of the Lord. Through the working of the Holy Spirit, we become that event. We participate in the Passover, the Exodus becomes our story, Good Friday and Resurrection Sunday become days that we have lived through and experienced. This is at least part of what the covenant means.
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Christ is Born! Glorify Him!
Christmas Eve 2008 Homily
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“The voice of one crying in the wilderness: "Prepare the way of the LORD; Make straight in the desert; a highway for our God. Every valley shall be exalted; and every mountain and hill brought low; the crooked places shall be made straight; and the rough places smooth; the glory of the LORD shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together; for the mouth of the LORD has spoken.” Is. 40:3-5
“And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we beheld His glory, the glory as of the only begotten of the Father, full of grace and Truth.” Jn. 1:14
“God, who at various times and in various ways spoke in time past to the fathers by the prophets, has in these last days spoken to us by His Son, who He has appointed heir of all things, through whom also He made the worlds; who being the brightness of His glory and the express image of His person, and upholding all things by the word of His power, when He had by Himself purged our sins, sat down at the right hand of the majesty on high...” Heb. 1:1-4
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We are accustomed to describing the act of God in the incarnation as a great act of humility, a great act of condescension, an act which is wonderful and amazing but in some way involves God leaving his glory behind. God as an infant, God as a crying baby in a stable, laid in a manger, what could be more humiliating? What could be more inglorious? Passages like Philippians 2:7 are quoted to describe this act: ‘But he made himself nothing, taking the form of a servant, coming in the likeness of men.’ Some translations say that he “emptied himself,” and the famous Christmas Carol says “mild, he lays his glory by/ born that man no more may die.” We routinely describe the incarnation with regard to great contrasts. There is what God is in Himself, and then there is what God became in the incarnation. There is the glory and holiness and transcendent being of God enthroned as absolute King of the Cosmos, and then there is Jesus, born of a woman, born in a stable, laid in a manger, no crib for a bed.
Our catechism implies this contrast when we ask the question ‘what is God?’ The answer is that “God is a Spirit, infinite, eternal, unchangeable, in his being, wisdom, power, holiness, justice, goodness, and truth.” There is no mention here of the incarnation, and the answer implies that the incarnation is something quite different from the way God usually is. God is a Spirit, the answer says, God is infinite, eternal, unchangeable. Those first four attributes would seem to contradict any notion of an incarnation.
And so we describe the great act of the incarnation as this wonderful impossibility that God overcame. How can the infinite, eternal, and unchangeable become the exact opposite of those things? How can the infinite become finite? How can the eternal have a beginning? How can the unchangeable be conceived? We ask these questions with amazement and wonder, and ultimately we worship and adore the God who does this. We worship the God who is able to do this, the God who was willing to do this for us, despite His glory and perfection and honor, overcomes the distance, bridges the chasm, and becomes one of us.
And of course there is truth in all of this. There’s nothing untrue in these descriptions in and of themselves. But there is a danger if this is all that we say. The untruth can begin to creep in if we do not tell the rest of the story. If we stop here, it can serve to obscure a more fundamental fact about the person and character of our God. One of the ways, we catch a glimpse of this is in passages like the ones just read: Isaiah 40, John 1 and Hebrews 1. A common theme running through all of them is the theme of glory, and that glory being revealed. Isaiah says that the glory of the Lord is going to be revealed when God comes to save his people. The prophet doesn’t say that the glory of God will be laid aside or veiled or somewhat hidden or obscured. The prophet says that the Coming One will reveal the glory of the Lord. So too, John insists that the incarnation was fundamentally the revelation of the glory of God. When the incarnation occurred, when we saw Jesus, we finally saw His glory, and not just any glory, we beheld the glory of the Father, full of grace and truth.
Similarly, the writer of Hebrews says that Jesus the Son of God is the brightness of God’s glory and the express image of His person. And our tendency is to jump immediately to Trinitarian categories. We’re fine with the Son being the brightness of God’s glory and the express image of His person, but we don’t tend to think about the incarnation. The baby in Bethlehem, lying in a food trough? That’s the brightness of God’s glory and the express image of His person? But that seems to be the very thing that the writer is talking about. Immediately after saying that he is the brightness of God’s glory and the express image of His person, he says that he not only upholds all things by the word of His power, but he also purged our sins and sat down at the right hand of the Majesty on high. Hebrews says that the brightness of God’s glory and his express image is evident in both his sovereignty in upholding all things and in purging our sins on the cross. The revelation of God is that God does both of these things.
And this gets back to our prior point. We tend to contrast the God who creates, the God who rules, the God who inhabits eternity with the God who is conceived, the God who is born, the God who dies. We are Christians, and we believe the Bible and so we don’t question these things. But we tend to contrast them nevertheless. We talk about God as God and then we talk about the incarnation as though it were something somewhat different. It’s something amazing and glorious, but we tend to describe the incarnation as though it doesn’t ordinarily fit with the idea of God. We have a notion of God, an idea of deity that pushes the idea of suffering and humility and incarnation to the far side of God-ness. To be God, we think, is to inhabit eternity, is to be a Spirit, is to be infinite, is to be unchangeable, is to be something and someone quite different than our human experience. And again, there is some truth there.
But these Scriptures push against this conception of God. John says that when Jesus was born we finally saw God for who he really is. We finally saw the glory of the Father full of grace and truth when Mary brought forth her Son and laid him in the manger. And when the child grew in wisdom and stature and in grace before God and men, we finally saw what God is like. And when that same carpenter’s Son was mocked and spat upon and despised and afflicted and finally crucified, Hebrews says that we saw the brightness of His glory; the express image of His person was revealed.
Similarly, in John’s first epistle, he says that the eternal life of the Father was manifested, revealed, seen, heard, looked upon, and handled. Whatever our conception of God, it must include this. When we ask ‘what is God?’ the first thing the New Testament writers would point to is the person of Jesus. Who is God? God is the one who revealed himself in Jesus. God is the one who was born of Mary. God is the one who lived as a man, who taught, who healed, who ate and drank with sinners, who was ultimately betrayed and crucified and rose again and ascended into heaven. That is our God. God is not first of all something else. God is not first of all infinite and eternal and unchangeable in a way that is at odds with the incarnation. Rather, the incarnation is the veil finally being torn away. If the ancients thought of God as someone distant and other and infinite and unchangeable they had some excuse for thinking that, although the Jews had plenty of hints that this was not the case. But when Jesus was born, when the incarnation occurred all of those preconceived notions were blown apart.
The incarnation is not something that we must try to fit into our doctrine of God. Rather, the incarnation is the beginning of our doctrine of God. It is the revelation of the glory of Lord, the brightness of His glory, the express image of his person. The incarnation is not merely consistent with the person and character of God; the incarnation shows us the kind of God we actually serve. The incarnation shows us not an aberration from the way God usually is; rather, the incarnation shows us what God is actually like. God is the God who both creates and sustains the worlds and gives himself for sinners. God is the God who both inhabits eternity and freely enters time and space and identifies with his people. God is the one who is both unchangeable, whose Word stands forever and cannot be moved, and He is at the same time always and unalterably free to experience growth and sorrow and love and joy. The God who rules heaven and earth is also the God who is born a child in Bethlehem.
And, as the hymn declares, this really is tidings of comfort and joy. The New Testament has a great deal to say about glory, and as we look at those passages we notice over and over again the association of glory with God’s people. We’ve already pointed out that Jesus is the revelation of God’s glory, but the New Testament writers don’t stop there. Paul says that in the New Covenant we have been given the Spirit, and as we read the Scriptures and hear the gospel proclaimed, we all with unveiled face, behold as in a mirror the glory of the Lord, and we are being transformed into the same image from glory to glory (2 Cor. 3:17-18). He says that we glory in tribulations (Rom. 5:3), and while our outward man is perishing and we experience afflictions, these are working in us an eternal weight of glory (2 Cor. 4:16-17). Paul’s own tribulations are the glory of the Ephesians (Eph. 2:13). He says that the Thessalonians have suffered like Christ and therefore they are his glory and joy (1 Thess. 2:14-15, 19-20). Peter, likewise says, ‘If you are reproached for the name of Christ, blessed are you, for the Spirit of glory and of God rests upon you.’ (1 Pet. 4:13). A little later he says that he is a “witness of the sufferings of Christ, and also a partaker of the glory that will be revealed.” (1 Pet. 5:1).
The reason it is great comfort and joy to know the God who is both sovereign and humble, the God who is both infinite and a child, who is both eternal and born of a woman, is that this same God promises to bestow this glory on us. Partaking of the glory of God, sharing in that glory, means living in this same reality, living as weak and broken people and yet strong and exalted, seated with Christ in the heavenly places. We live as those who have been given eternal life and yet have been born, and who will all die. We have been united to the changeless one, the one will never leave us or forsake us, and yet we grow up, and live, and change, and die and rise again.
In Ephesians Paul prays that the eyes of their understanding might be enlightened, that they might know what are the riches of his glory of His inheritance in the saints (Eph. 2:18). What the Ephesians need, and what we so often need is not for God to show us his glory. That has been revealed to us in Jesus. What we really need is for our eyes to be opened to see the glory right in front of us. We see a child in a manger, and say God has in some way laid his glory aside. But God says, ‘no, no, that is my glory, my wisdom, my infinity, my changelessness, my holiness, my justice, my goodness, my glory. God in the manger is the glory of God revealed. And if God in a manger is the glory of God revealed, then God on the cross is the Lord of Glory (1 Cor. 2:8). The glory of God is joy in suffering, peace in upheaval, mercy in justice, exaltation in humility, losing our lives to find them. If the glory of God is revealed in an infant lying in a manger, then why can’t the glory of God be revealed in your family? Why can’t the glory of God be manifest in your fellowship at a table, in your exchanging peace and joy and mercy with one another? Why can’t the glory of God be revealed in the midst of brokenness and confusion? Why can’t the wisdom and power of God be evident in weakness? The answer is that it can be and that it is. And so here we are assembled to proclaim that glory, the glory of the Lord that has been revealed to us and is being revealed in us through the working of the Spirit. Christ is born! Glorify Him! The glory of the Lord has been revealed. The veil is torn away. See the glory.
“O Zion, You who bring good tidings, Get up into the high mountain; O Jerusalem, You who bring good tidings, Lift up your voice with strength, Lift it up, be not afraid; Say to the cities of Judah, "Behold your God!” Is. 40:9
In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, Amen!
Friday, December 19, 2008
ERH on Leisure and Holiday
Eugen Rosenstock-Huessy (ERH) (188-1973) says that the disintegration of our culture is tied directly to our inability to celebrate holiday which is not the same thing as having "leisure time."
Leisure takes men into pastimes whether future or past, or inner or outer ecstasies. Leisure is free time spent merely doing something else, something out of the central current of one's vocation. And any hobby or leisure activity which becomes a job is thereby no longer leisure. Similarly, ERH gives the examples of site-seeing/travel and interest in music. It's all good fun and serves to divert people from the central demands of life. But there is a kind of restlessness and aimless bound up in such an existence. ERH insists that peace and contentment is found in the center of this cross of human existence. If the inner, outer, future, and past form the four sides of the cross of human existence, only fixed to the center of the cross can human existence be fulfilling and fruitful. ERH names this "centered" existence one which celebrates holidays as contrasted with the individualism and escapism of mere leisure. It combines these modes of leisure into community life, fellowship, and celebration.
That's what holidays do. The are the "mortar of society," creating fellowship, togetherness, opportunities to plan, discuss, and organize. They are the concerted efforts of a whole community to celebrate despite what any circumstances may otherwise suggest, and ERH goes on to suggest that out of these holidays come creativity, ingenuity, productivity, and many other traits of a thriving society.
The Christian Future, 198-202.
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