Looking Up

Are you faced with “more than enough” hardship today? Do the challenges you face seem insurmountable? Does the journey seem too much? Where do you look for help? If you’re like me, you don’t always look up. In fact, too often we look out, we look in, or we look down. What do I mean?

Sometimes we “look out” expecting that our help comes from other people. There is a certain rightness to this. Others do bear our burdens (Gal 6:2). Others are called to encourage our faintheartedness and help our weakness (1 Thess 5:14). Others comfort us with the comfort of Christ (2 Cor 1:3–4). But they are not our Messiah. In their own human frailty, they often fall short of what we truly need.

If others are untrustworthy helpers and unable to bear the full weight of our suffering, where else do we look? Sometimes we “look in.” We look inward for the fortitude and perseverance to face our hardships. We ratchet up our planning and our doing. That strategy may work for a season but inevitably our small boat of personal resources swamps in the wind and waves of life in a fallen world. As I feverishly bail water, I realize I’m in a losing battle. The broken relationship is irreparable. The cancer is terminal. Reputation is forever tarnished. The chronic pain is truly chronic. The business will indeed fail. Then what? I find that at these points, too often I “look down.” I become discouraged and overwhelmed. Life shrinks to the rocky ground before me and in that earth-bound gaze I try to plod on.

When we experience the insufficiency of looking in, out, or down, this is precisely the point at which our loving and faithful Father King calls me—and you—to look up. To call out for mercy in our time of need. To fix our gaze on mercy personified—Jesus Christ—who sits enthroned in heaven. He faced “more than enough” suffering in the humiliation of his freely chosen incarnation, earthly life, and death (Phil 2:6-8). He was despised and rejected, a man of sorrows and well acquainted with grief (Isa 53:3). And in the midst of his horrific suffering, Jesus offered up prayers and supplications, with loud cries and tears, to him who was able to save him from death (Heb 5:7). In his resurrection victory over sin, suffering, and death he now invites you, weary traveler, to draw near to the throne of grace, that you may receive mercy and find grace in your time of need (Heb 4:16).

Look up to the merciful One who stands ready to help.

[by Mike Emlet on the CCEF blog]

St. Ignatius of Antioch

I bought a book recently entitled, 5 Minutes in Church History, by Stephen J. Nichols. It contains short stories about people who have made a difference for God's people. In chapter 2, the author focuses on St. Ignatius, a disciple of the apostle John.

Ignatius was Bishop of Antioch who had to deal with many false teachers. In particular, he had to confront the false teachings related to Gnosticism which claimed that Christ did not come in the flesh, he really wasn't born, he really didn't live, he really didn't die on the cross, and he really didn't rise again.

Ultimately, Ignatius wants the false teachers to see the truth of the gospel. He declares:

Only you must pray for them, if by any means they may be brought to repentance. For if the Lord were in the body in appearance only, and were crucified in appearance only, then am I also bound in appearance only. And why have I also surrendered myself to death, to fire, to the sword, to the wild beasts? But I endure all things for Christ, not in appearance only, but in reality. That I may suffer together with Him, while He Himself inwardly, strengthens me: for of myself I have no such ability.

St. Ignatius went on to suffer a martyr's death. It was important to him that his suffering was real and meaningful, like that of Christ himself. This message mattered to him.

Under the Roman emperor Trajan, Ignatius gave his life to the faith because he failed to deny Christ but instead confessed Him. He became one of the first martyrs of church history.

God's Promises in Suffering

If you are looking for answers, Job is one of many places you can turn. Another is to God's promises. "No temptation has seized you except what is common to man. And God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can stand up under it" (1 Corinthians 10:13). This is one of the better known promises, and it is one where God appears to have reneged, because suffering often feels like more than you can bear. Therefore, it is important to consider for two reasons. First, it is a great promise. Second, if you are starting to believe that it isn't always true, then you may start asking where else God's promises might have exceptions. Such doubts erode faith.


This passage is saying that you too will go through the desert, and when you do, the Spirit will strengthen you in such a way that you can avoid grumbling and idolatry. God's promise is that he will never put us in a situation where we have no choice but to sin. He either will relieve the intensity of the temptation or he will give use grace to trust and obey in the hardship.


[by Edward T. Welch from Heart of the Matter}

Navel-gazing, Descartes, and Evangelism

After a philosophical discussion in church today with Lee Dise, I turned back in my old books to the writings of Rene Descartes. When I was taking a philosophy class, we read some of his works, including Meditations on First Philosophy in which he makes his "I think, therefore, I am" or "cogito, ergo sum" argument; an argument in search of certainty, not so much for himself, but for those who do not believe in God. In the Meditations, he finds certainty, first, in his own existence, and then from there in the things of this world and God himself. From the passage below, you will see that this is not navel-gazing: Descartes was certain of God's existence, but he wanted to develop an argument through philosophy, so that "infidels" could be certain, too.



When we think of philosophers, we often picture the atheists of today who strain language and logic to deny the existence of the Christian God. As I looked back at my notes, I observed - once again - that Descartes was not of this ilk. The passages from the opening of Meditations reflect a man of deep faith, trying to figure out how to share that faith with a fallen world.

I have always considered that the two questions respecting God and the Soul were the chief of those that ought to be demonstrated by philosophical rather than theological argument. For although it is quite enough for us faithful ones to accept by means of faith the fact that the human soul does not perish with the body, and that God exists, it certainly does not seem possible ever to persuade infidels of any religion, indeed, we may almost say, of any moral virtue, unless, to begin with, we prove these two facts by means of the natural reason. And inasmuch as often in this life greater rewards are offered for vice than for virtue, few people would prefer the right to the useful, were they restrained neither by the fear of God nor the expectation of another life; and although it is absolutely true that we must believe that there is a God, because we are so taught in the Holy Scriptures, and, on the other hand, that we must believe the Holy Scriptures because they come from God (the reason of this is, that, faith being a gift of God, He who gives the grace to cause us to believe other things can likewise give it to cause us to believe that He exists), we nevertheless could not place this argument before infidels, who might accuse us of reasoning in a circle. And, in truth, I have noticed that you, along with all the theologians, did not only affirm that the existence of God may be proved by the natural reason, but also that it may be inferred from the Holy Scriptures, that knowledge about Him is much clearer than that which we have of many created things, and, as a matter of fact, is so easy to acquire, that those who have it not are culpable in their ignorance. This indeed appears from the Wisdom of Solomon, chapter xiii., where it is said “How be it they are not to be excused; for if their understanding was so great that they could discern the world and the creatures, why did they not rather find out the Lord thereof?” and in Romans, chapter i., it is said that they are “without excuse”; and again in the same place, by these words “that which may be known of God is manifest in them,” it seems as through we were shown that all that which can be known of God may be made manifest by means which are not derived from anywhere but from ourselves, and from the simple consideration of the nature of our minds. Hence I thought it not beside my purpose to inquire how this is so, and how God may be more easily and certainly known than the things of the world.

To God be the glory.

The Perils of Self-Rule

As I mentioned, I'm reading a book by Wilfred M. McClay on a history of the United States. Very good book, so far. At the end of a chapter on the start of the Revolutionary War, McClay explores the sentiments behind the conflict; that is, what stirred the colonists to action. McClay centers the motivation squarely on a desire for self-rule. He writes:

Perhaps nothing better illustrates that centrality than an interview given in 1843 by Captain Levi Preston, a soldier who fought the British at Concord in 1775 and was interviewed at the age of ninety-one by a young Mellen Chamberlain.

"Captain Preston, why did you go to the Concord Fight, the 19th of April, 1775?"
The old man, bowed beneath the weight of years, raised himself upright, and turning to me said: "Why did I go?"
"Yes," I replied; "my histories tell me that you men of the Revolution took up arms against 'intolerable oppressions.'"
"What were they? Oppressions? I didn't feel them."
"What, were you not oppressed by the Stamp Act?"
"I never saw one of those stamps, and always understood that Governor Bernard put them all in Castle William. I am certain I never paid a penny for one of them."
"Well, what then about the tea-tax?"
"Tea-tax! I never drank a drop of the stuff; the boys threw it all overboard."
"Then I suppose you had been reading Harrington or Sidney and Locke about the eternal principles of liberty."
"Never heard of 'em. We read only the Bible, the Catechism, Watt's Psalms and Hymns, and the Almanack."
"Well, then, what was the matter? and what did you mean in going to the fight?"
"Young man, what we meant for those red-coats was this: we always had governed ourselves, and we always meant to. They didn't mean we should."

And that, concluded Chamberlain, was the ultimate philosophy of the American Revolution.

This desire for self-rule, I think, is fundamental to human nature. The will to take dominion, as God commanded, is tied into this desire to rule. This desire for self-rule fueled the American Civil War, the cause for Northern Ireland, the protests in Hong Kong and other conflicts and movements all around the world - some more noble than others.

But, as with all human endeavors, there is always a dark side. Man took the command to take dominion given by God to the extreme: autonomy. Humans are commanded to rule over the earth, but not over themselves separate from God's sovereignty. The Garden was man's first attempt at self-rule and it was disastrous. Republicanism and democracy can be noble and effective ways to govern, but when humans kid themselves by thinking that they can rule without God, there can be no end to the negative consequences.

The lie of godless self-autonomy is not only poisonous for governments, but individuals as well. We were not made to be independent. We were made to be completely reliant on a loving God who only wants the best for his people. We deny that truth at our own peril.

Priorities

I was talking to someone who was struggling with getting too wrapped up in work and neglecting other areas of his life. He doesn't have any kids yet. This is the advice I gave him:

Love God.
Love your wife.
Love the brotherhood.
Make a living.

Life in the Middle

The problem with relationships is that they all take place right in the middle of the story of redemption - God's plan to turn everything in our lives into instruments of Christlike change and growth. Our relationships are lived between the already and the not yet.

Already Jesus has come to save us, but his saving work is not yet complete. Already the power of sin has been broken, but the presence of sin has not yet been eradicated. Already we have change in many ways, but we are not yet all we will be in Christ. Already we have learned many lessons of faith, but we don't yet trust God fully. Already God has established his kingdom in our hearts, but that kingdom has not yet fully come.

Our life with others is always life in the middle. We are always building the community in the tension between God's already-and-not-yet grace. And we have no more control over the not-yet than we have had over the already. The timetable is in the hands of the sovereign Lord of grace. Our job is to learn how to live in the middle. We live as broken people who are repaired, among neighbors in the same condition - always thankful for what has already been done, but ever aware of our need for what we have not yet been given.

[Timothy S. Lane and Paul David Tripp from Heart of the Matter]

What is History?

I just picked up a history book by Wilfred M. McClay entitled, Land of Hope: An Invitation to the Great American Story. I'm really looking forward to reading it. In the introduction, he offers this thoughtful perspective on history:

History is the study of change through time, and, theoretically, it could be about almost anything that happens. But is must be selective if it is to be intelligible. Indeed, in practice, what we call "history" leaves out many of the most important aspects of life. It generally does not deal with the vast stretches of time during which life goes on normally, during which people fall in love, have families, raise their children, bury their dead, and carry on with the small acts of heroism, sacrifice, and devotion that mark so much of everyday life - the "unhistoric acts," as George Elliot wrote in the closing of Middlemarch, of those "who lived faithfully in hidden life, and rest in unvisited tombs." There are a few moments, like the American holiday of Thanksgiving, or great public commemorations, at which the low murmur of those ordinary things becomes audible and finds a measure of public acknowledgment. But by and large, "history" is interested in the eruptions of the extraordinary into the flow of the regular. It must leave out so much. (emphasis added)

If I find interesting things to share, I'll post more as I go along.

The Gospel in 2 Minutes

Brothers

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