I don’t completely buy the whole idea of white privileged, but not because I’m not privileged. I am. I just know plenty of white folks who aren’t. But it’s good to be reminded once in a while that most other people aren’t just like me, because God likes it that way.
I thought about that today as I read the last chapter of Romans. Most of the chapter is greetings and commendations, but midway through there’s this admonition, from Romans 16:17: “I urge you, brothers and sisters, to watch out for those who cause divisions and put obstacles in your way that are contrary to the teaching you have learned. Keep away from them.”
By itself, a familiar caution, but I immediately went back to the very first reference, in verses 1-2: “I commend to you our sister Phoebe, a deacon of the church in Cenchreae. I ask you to receive her in the Lord in a way worthy of his people and to give her any help she may need from you, for she has been the benefactor of many people, including me.”
Sister Phoebe was a deacon in a time when women often didn’t have much status. Sister Phoebe was a deacon centuries and even millennia before my denomination allowed women to be deacons. In fact, the debate over appropriate roles for women in public church life continues in many churches.
I don’t want to fight that fight here, but it makes me wonder how many other dividing lines we draw in the church that we wouldn’t have to. We qualify people based on age, education, experience, and demographics. We measure people by their positions on issues, and most pointedly by their agreement with our positions. Are those some of the divisions and obstacles Paul warns about?
It seems to me there are enough people trying to exclude other people for various reasons. I think I want to be known as the guy who always wants to include people.
Wednesday, February 28, 2018
Tuesday, February 27, 2018
being strong
I have a lot of conversations with my grandsons about being a soldier. They see my memorabilia and have questions. Like most folks who haven’t served, they have some funny ideas of what being a soldier is all about.
Mostly, they think being strong and fit and having the skills to fight means you can do whatever you want. Who’s going to stop you?
I try to get them to see the truth of Romans 15:1: “We who are strong ought to bear with the failings of the weak and not to please ourselves.” I try to teach them that soldiers see their role not as doing what they feel like or taking what they want, but as protecting and enabling all the people around them who are less strong. Little kids, I tell them, are vulnerable so big kids need to look after them, not prey on them.
Paul’s point, of course, wasn’t about physical strength, but about strength of faith. Far from asserting themselves in the church or using their status to direct things, mature Christians should instead think of the needs of those coming behind them on their faith walks. We should step into the hard church situations rather than put them in places where it will be hard to live out their faiths. We should look at worship and ministry through their eyes, to ensure they are well-fed and nurtured toward their own strength.
Church isn’t just to sustain us long-time Christians. Church is where we grow and nurture new believers.
Monday, February 26, 2018
accept
For a guy who lived a few millennia ago, Paul is really relevant. No surprise, really, because he wrote the inspired, Spirit-breathed word of God, which is timeless. But this morning, he hit me between the eyes; me and every church I’ve ever been a part of.
Here's a bit of Paul’s advice, from Romans 14:1: “Accept the one whose faith is weak, without quarreling over disputable matters.”
It’s so easy to put a lot of value on spiritual maturity, isn’t it? To think the seminary-trained man or woman, or the wise elder who teaches catechism, has more importance than ordinary church members. Conversely, it’s easy to snicker over Sunday dinner at the new guy who never heard of David and Goliath.
Except, what does it really matter if they don’t know about David and Goliath if they know about Jesus? If they put their hope in Jesus, believe that his death atoned for their sins, and have committed to live for him, why do we bog them down in debates over the end times, over how long Jesus was actually in Hell, or the relationship between faith and works? There are a lot of doctrinal issues we see differently than other denominations, things that Scripture doesn’t clearly explain. Infant or adult baptism? Why fight?
I think there have been times when I made church and faith look kind of ugly by my unattractive desire for total conformity with my church’s doctrines, and by my attitude of superiority over my greater Biblical knowledge. Have I ever turned a new Christian off from the faith? I don’t think so, but only by God’s grace.
These new, tender Christians are to be loved and nurtured and grown, not judged and lectured and forced into a mold. They aren’t my followers, or followers of my church. They belong to Jesus, and he loves and accepts their tiny, feeble faith. Just as he does mine.
Friday, February 23, 2018
debt
I’m a debt-averse person. I’ve made decisions that smart money people think are foolish just to avoid debt - for example, I took only about 60% of what the bank was willing to loan me for a mortgage even though the rates were extremely low. I just don’t like owing people.
Paul seems to agree with me, but he goes beyond just the money. Here’s what he said in Romans 13:7-8: “Give to everyone what you owe them: If you owe taxes, pay taxes; if revenue, then revenue; if respect, then respect; if honor, then honor.” There are a lot of kinds of debt, Paul says. Pay all of them. Pay the money you owe, but pay your emotional and relational debts as well.
However, there is one debt Paul says I don’t have to worry about. Look at this from verse 8: “Let no debt remain outstanding, except the continuing debt to love one another, for whoever loves others has fulfilled the law.”
The fact is, that’s a debt I can’t ever pay off, because what I owe is measured by what I’ve been given. I’ve been given perfect love by the only perfect lover, God. I’ve been given love so immense that it willingly gave all its children for me. I’ve been given love that is new every day and fresh for every new sin or trial. The love I receive is infinite.
Therefore, I owe infinite love. If I love every person I ever meet every day for the rest of my life, I will only begin to love as much as God has loved me.
One thing about that kind of debt, though, is it’s not hard to figure out. Love everyone always. Simple, huh?
Paul seems to agree with me, but he goes beyond just the money. Here’s what he said in Romans 13:7-8: “Give to everyone what you owe them: If you owe taxes, pay taxes; if revenue, then revenue; if respect, then respect; if honor, then honor.” There are a lot of kinds of debt, Paul says. Pay all of them. Pay the money you owe, but pay your emotional and relational debts as well.
However, there is one debt Paul says I don’t have to worry about. Look at this from verse 8: “Let no debt remain outstanding, except the continuing debt to love one another, for whoever loves others has fulfilled the law.”
The fact is, that’s a debt I can’t ever pay off, because what I owe is measured by what I’ve been given. I’ve been given perfect love by the only perfect lover, God. I’ve been given love so immense that it willingly gave all its children for me. I’ve been given love that is new every day and fresh for every new sin or trial. The love I receive is infinite.
Therefore, I owe infinite love. If I love every person I ever meet every day for the rest of my life, I will only begin to love as much as God has loved me.
One thing about that kind of debt, though, is it’s not hard to figure out. Love everyone always. Simple, huh?
Thursday, February 22, 2018
root and branch
God doesn’t need me.
I know that, but sometimes I forget. Sometimes I think it’s up to me to save our church. Sometimes I think other Christians should be more aware of how good I am, and the great things I’m doing. Sometimes I feel like my ministry is the most important one. Often, I lose my humility.
But here’s something Paul wrote, in Romans 11:17-18: “If some of the branches have been broken off, and you, though a wild olive shoot, have been grafted in among the others and now share in the nourishing sap from the olive root, do not consider yourself to be superior to those other branches. If you do, consider this: You do not support the root, but the root supports you.”
God doesn’t need me. I don’t support the root; I’m just a branch.
But I am a branch. I am one of those wild olive shoots, those Gentiles, that God called into his church. He picked me out, he grafted me on. God doesn’t need me, but he wants me.
It’s a better perspective. I’m desired by God, but nothing really depends on me. I’m loved by God, but not for anything I can do for him. On my bad days, what could be better than a God who supports me knowing full well who I am?
And on my good days, what could be more inspiring and energizing that the gratitude I feel toward a God who supports me knowing full well who I am?
I know that, but sometimes I forget. Sometimes I think it’s up to me to save our church. Sometimes I think other Christians should be more aware of how good I am, and the great things I’m doing. Sometimes I feel like my ministry is the most important one. Often, I lose my humility.
But here’s something Paul wrote, in Romans 11:17-18: “If some of the branches have been broken off, and you, though a wild olive shoot, have been grafted in among the others and now share in the nourishing sap from the olive root, do not consider yourself to be superior to those other branches. If you do, consider this: You do not support the root, but the root supports you.”
God doesn’t need me. I don’t support the root; I’m just a branch.
But I am a branch. I am one of those wild olive shoots, those Gentiles, that God called into his church. He picked me out, he grafted me on. God doesn’t need me, but he wants me.
It’s a better perspective. I’m desired by God, but nothing really depends on me. I’m loved by God, but not for anything I can do for him. On my bad days, what could be better than a God who supports me knowing full well who I am?
And on my good days, what could be more inspiring and energizing that the gratitude I feel toward a God who supports me knowing full well who I am?
Wednesday, February 21, 2018
declare and believe
Paul had a simple, two-part way to salvation. He wrote it in Romans 10:9: “If you declare with your mouth,‘Jesus is Lord,’ and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved.”
Of course, this is simple to say and understand, but it’s not that easy to do. Believe in my heart that God raised Jesus from the dead? Many scoff at me for believing this. Libraries full of books and magazine articles have been written trying to clarify the “myths” of the Christian religion and determine who Jesus the man really was.
In our day of science and skepticism, do I really believe that God came to earth as an immaculately-conceived human baby, that he walked the earth for roughly three decades teaching and performing miracles, that he was tortured to death but then rose from the dead and ascended back into heaven? And if I do believe that, do I believe that it was enough to save me?
I do, but some days it’s hard.
If I believe it, though, I have to say it. Declare with my mouth, “Jesus is Lord.” I declared it in my profession of faith, but I should declare it anew over every day, every new job, ever new house, every trip, every act of service. In my declaring and in my doing and living I should shout emphatically that I’m committing it all to my Lord Jesus.
Declare that Jesus is Lord, and believe God raised him from the dead. In other words, put my faith in Jesus, and then serve him.
I can do that. I have done that.
Of course, this is simple to say and understand, but it’s not that easy to do. Believe in my heart that God raised Jesus from the dead? Many scoff at me for believing this. Libraries full of books and magazine articles have been written trying to clarify the “myths” of the Christian religion and determine who Jesus the man really was.
In our day of science and skepticism, do I really believe that God came to earth as an immaculately-conceived human baby, that he walked the earth for roughly three decades teaching and performing miracles, that he was tortured to death but then rose from the dead and ascended back into heaven? And if I do believe that, do I believe that it was enough to save me?
I do, but some days it’s hard.
If I believe it, though, I have to say it. Declare with my mouth, “Jesus is Lord.” I declared it in my profession of faith, but I should declare it anew over every day, every new job, ever new house, every trip, every act of service. In my declaring and in my doing and living I should shout emphatically that I’m committing it all to my Lord Jesus.
Declare that Jesus is Lord, and believe God raised him from the dead. In other words, put my faith in Jesus, and then serve him.
I can do that. I have done that.
Tuesday, February 20, 2018
human effort
It’s typical of my generation of Dutch Calvinists to be very self-sufficient. We love helping with service projects, but we’re reluctant to take help ourselves. When asked how we’re doing, we always say, “Fine,” no matter how bad things are. We’ll get by; we don’t want to be a bother to anyone or have to take from someone.
That makes grace a tough concept for me. I like to handle things on my own. But do-it-yourself is a good approach to remodeling, but it’s a lousy spiritual plan.
The problem I have is that, while my construction errors are minor and I can stick to my financial plan, when it comes to faith I keep messing up. I can’t seem to get more than a couple of days right in a row. My works are spotty, my motives are seldom pure, and often I don’t do the most basic things I intend to do.
What good news, then, when I read Romans 10:16: “It does not, therefore, depend on human desire or effort, but on God’s mercy.”
This is the part of my life that I have to let go of. Here is where my only hope is getting the help I need, from Jesus and from his people. By God’s mercy and Jesus’ sacrifice I am saved - I didn’t do a thing and can’t do a thing to affect that.
This doesn’t depend on me. In this, I am again the child looking solely to the Father for everything.
What a relief.
That makes grace a tough concept for me. I like to handle things on my own. But do-it-yourself is a good approach to remodeling, but it’s a lousy spiritual plan.
The problem I have is that, while my construction errors are minor and I can stick to my financial plan, when it comes to faith I keep messing up. I can’t seem to get more than a couple of days right in a row. My works are spotty, my motives are seldom pure, and often I don’t do the most basic things I intend to do.
What good news, then, when I read Romans 10:16: “It does not, therefore, depend on human desire or effort, but on God’s mercy.”
This is the part of my life that I have to let go of. Here is where my only hope is getting the help I need, from Jesus and from his people. By God’s mercy and Jesus’ sacrifice I am saved - I didn’t do a thing and can’t do a thing to affect that.
This doesn’t depend on me. In this, I am again the child looking solely to the Father for everything.
What a relief.
Monday, February 19, 2018
hope
There’s a thing I say a lot at work. I say it so much that people are starting to say it for me, before I can. If someone ever says “hopefully we’ll . . .” I say, “Hope is not a course of action.” I say that to remind them that, while they’re hoping for the best, they should be doing whatever they can to make that hoped-for thing a reality.
That’s a good business principle, but it’s less good theology. Faith-wise, hope is a great course of action, if it’s hope in Jesus.
Look at Romans 8:22-25: “We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time. Not only so, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption to sonship, the redemption of our bodies. For in this hope we were saved. But hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what they already have? But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently.”
Spiritual hope is much different than worldly hope. Worldly hope is a longing for an uncertain thing. “I hope it doesn’t snow.” “I hope I get a pony for my Birthday.” “I hope so-and-so asks me to prom.” “I hope we land that sale.” When we say things like that, we’re acknowledging that life is beyond our control, and that the things we want may or may not happen.
But when we hope in Jesus, the dialogue is completely different. It’s getting energy and willpower by looking forward to a certainty. We know, beyond any doubt, that Jesus’ sacrifice bought us saving righteousness, and we know our good and faithful God keeps his promises. Our future is guaranteed.
That’s the kind of hope that keeps you going when your kids make bad choices, when your parents start to fail, when your relationships fall apart, when business is bad. Because this is just temporary. We’re going to win. We can’t not win.
In Jesus, it’s impossible for us not to win in the end. That’s hope.
That’s a good business principle, but it’s less good theology. Faith-wise, hope is a great course of action, if it’s hope in Jesus.
Look at Romans 8:22-25: “We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time. Not only so, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption to sonship, the redemption of our bodies. For in this hope we were saved. But hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what they already have? But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently.”
Spiritual hope is much different than worldly hope. Worldly hope is a longing for an uncertain thing. “I hope it doesn’t snow.” “I hope I get a pony for my Birthday.” “I hope so-and-so asks me to prom.” “I hope we land that sale.” When we say things like that, we’re acknowledging that life is beyond our control, and that the things we want may or may not happen.
But when we hope in Jesus, the dialogue is completely different. It’s getting energy and willpower by looking forward to a certainty. We know, beyond any doubt, that Jesus’ sacrifice bought us saving righteousness, and we know our good and faithful God keeps his promises. Our future is guaranteed.
That’s the kind of hope that keeps you going when your kids make bad choices, when your parents start to fail, when your relationships fall apart, when business is bad. Because this is just temporary. We’re going to win. We can’t not win.
In Jesus, it’s impossible for us not to win in the end. That’s hope.
Friday, February 16, 2018
helpless but not hopeless
Was there ever a writer who could capture the human condition like Paul? Who was as honest about it?
Look at this, from Romans 7:21-25: “So I find this law at work: Although I want to do good, evil is right there with me. For in my inner being I delight in God’s law; but I see another law at work in me, waging war against the law of my mind and making me a prisoner of the law of sin at work within me. What a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body that is subject to death? Thanks be to God, who delivers me through Jesus Christ our Lord!”
I’m wrapping up a week on the road. I had a lot of good intentions, to eat well, to work out, to write, to connect with family and friends. I had free evenings, and the choice of what do with them was mine.
What I did was read a novel, watch Netflix (and some Olympics), eat way too much lousy (but tasty) food, and sleep a lot. Evil? Maybe not, except none of it fed my soul for made me healthier in any sense. None of it helped anyone else. It was all a self-indulgent waste of time and opportunity.
Even now, as a grandpa, I need adult supervision or I’m prone to sinful time-wasting and opportunity-squandering. Like Paul, I still need someone to save me from myself. And so this morning I pray those words Paul wrote: “Thanks be to God, who delivers me through Jesus Christ our Lord!”
Today is a new day, one I can live for him. I serve a Lord of new beginnings.
Look at this, from Romans 7:21-25: “So I find this law at work: Although I want to do good, evil is right there with me. For in my inner being I delight in God’s law; but I see another law at work in me, waging war against the law of my mind and making me a prisoner of the law of sin at work within me. What a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body that is subject to death? Thanks be to God, who delivers me through Jesus Christ our Lord!”
I’m wrapping up a week on the road. I had a lot of good intentions, to eat well, to work out, to write, to connect with family and friends. I had free evenings, and the choice of what do with them was mine.
What I did was read a novel, watch Netflix (and some Olympics), eat way too much lousy (but tasty) food, and sleep a lot. Evil? Maybe not, except none of it fed my soul for made me healthier in any sense. None of it helped anyone else. It was all a self-indulgent waste of time and opportunity.
Even now, as a grandpa, I need adult supervision or I’m prone to sinful time-wasting and opportunity-squandering. Like Paul, I still need someone to save me from myself. And so this morning I pray those words Paul wrote: “Thanks be to God, who delivers me through Jesus Christ our Lord!”
Today is a new day, one I can live for him. I serve a Lord of new beginnings.
Thursday, February 15, 2018
offerings
Often as I read through the Old Testament I’ve been struck by the futility of pagan worship. The idea of making offerings to a carved rock or wooden idol, or some imagined force, seems so pathetic. People long so much for some sort of comfort or control, and without God they look for it in strange places.
This morning, though, I realized I do much the same thing. I was reading in Romans 6, and was struck by verse 13: “Do not offer any part of yourself to sin as an instrument of wickedness, but rather offer yourselves to God as those who have been brought from death to life; and offer every part of yourself to him as an instrument of righteousness.”
How often haven’t I offered part of myself to sin? I’ve made offerings of my lips and tongue to diminish others and puff myself up. I’ve made offerings of my eyes as I’ve read and watched things that promote worldly ideas and serve worldly agendas. I’ve made offerings of my brain and will as I’ve brooded on slights and fantasized bad things for my enemies.
Fortunately, those kinds of offerings are made less and less these days. By God’s grace, as I mature I make more and more of the other kind, offering myself to God for his purposes. These days, I’m more likely to make the mistake of not offering anything to anyone than I am to be an instrument of wickedness.
Still, it’s a reminder that there’s a pagan worshipper in me that’s only held in check by God’s grace.
This morning, though, I realized I do much the same thing. I was reading in Romans 6, and was struck by verse 13: “Do not offer any part of yourself to sin as an instrument of wickedness, but rather offer yourselves to God as those who have been brought from death to life; and offer every part of yourself to him as an instrument of righteousness.”
How often haven’t I offered part of myself to sin? I’ve made offerings of my lips and tongue to diminish others and puff myself up. I’ve made offerings of my eyes as I’ve read and watched things that promote worldly ideas and serve worldly agendas. I’ve made offerings of my brain and will as I’ve brooded on slights and fantasized bad things for my enemies.
Fortunately, those kinds of offerings are made less and less these days. By God’s grace, as I mature I make more and more of the other kind, offering myself to God for his purposes. These days, I’m more likely to make the mistake of not offering anything to anyone than I am to be an instrument of wickedness.
Still, it’s a reminder that there’s a pagan worshipper in me that’s only held in check by God’s grace.
Wednesday, February 14, 2018
peace
I’ve messed up some relationships. By God’s grace, I think the ones I have now are all pretty good, but I remember that feeling of turning around to avoid someone, of wondering what they might have said to other people. Of my heart racing when I suddenly, unexpectedly came face to face with that person.
A bad relationship can hang over life like a storm cloud, occasionally dumping a bunch of misery but most often just throwing a shadow over everything.
Romans 5 got me thinking this morning about my bad relationship with God. Or, what used to be a bad one. Look at this, from Romans 5:1-2: “Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we now stand.”
Peace with God. No more guilt, no more trying to keep him out of my head. No more fear.
The problem with this particular relationship is that there’s no way to avoid God, at least not until it gets so bad he leaves you to your own sin. The Holy Spirit never takes a day off. There’s not a way to walk circles around him, or avoid places he might be. And a bigger problem: there’s no way to win against God. Not only is he always right, but he’s all-knowing and all-powerful.
What a relief to be at peace with God! What a relief to talk to him every day, to grumble when I’m mad, to say thank you when I’m happy. A good relationship is like sunshine, and this one brings the Sonshine that lights up my whole world.
A bad relationship can hang over life like a storm cloud, occasionally dumping a bunch of misery but most often just throwing a shadow over everything.
Romans 5 got me thinking this morning about my bad relationship with God. Or, what used to be a bad one. Look at this, from Romans 5:1-2: “Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we now stand.”
Peace with God. No more guilt, no more trying to keep him out of my head. No more fear.
The problem with this particular relationship is that there’s no way to avoid God, at least not until it gets so bad he leaves you to your own sin. The Holy Spirit never takes a day off. There’s not a way to walk circles around him, or avoid places he might be. And a bigger problem: there’s no way to win against God. Not only is he always right, but he’s all-knowing and all-powerful.
What a relief to be at peace with God! What a relief to talk to him every day, to grumble when I’m mad, to say thank you when I’m happy. A good relationship is like sunshine, and this one brings the Sonshine that lights up my whole world.
Tuesday, February 13, 2018
believe
There’s a simple technique to be counted righteous - simple, yet nearly impossible. Just follow the example of Abraham.
Romans 4:3: “What does Scripture say? ‘Abraham believed God, and it was credited to him as righteousness.’”
God made a lot of promises to Abraham - the promise of a child in his old age, the promise that his people would become a great nation. And Abraham believed God. Even with all the good things he did in his life, this is the one Paul pointed out. And will all the dumb things he did, his belief still counted as righteousness.
So do I believe God? Do I first of all believe all the things he tells me about creation and the flood and his miraculous deliverance of his people? Or do I try to explain away the Old Testament as allegorical? Do I see contradictions between scripture and science, and choose to believe humans instead?
Then, do I believe God’s promises? Do I believe he has a plan to prosper me? That he will never leave me or forsake me? That when I walk through the river I won’t be swept away, and when I walk through the fire I won’t be burned? That he has a place for me in heaven?
All it took for Abraham to be counted by God as righteous was belief. I want to say, as was said more than once in scripture, “I do believe! Help me in my unbelief!”
Romans 4:3: “What does Scripture say? ‘Abraham believed God, and it was credited to him as righteousness.’”
God made a lot of promises to Abraham - the promise of a child in his old age, the promise that his people would become a great nation. And Abraham believed God. Even with all the good things he did in his life, this is the one Paul pointed out. And will all the dumb things he did, his belief still counted as righteousness.
So do I believe God? Do I first of all believe all the things he tells me about creation and the flood and his miraculous deliverance of his people? Or do I try to explain away the Old Testament as allegorical? Do I see contradictions between scripture and science, and choose to believe humans instead?
Then, do I believe God’s promises? Do I believe he has a plan to prosper me? That he will never leave me or forsake me? That when I walk through the river I won’t be swept away, and when I walk through the fire I won’t be burned? That he has a place for me in heaven?
All it took for Abraham to be counted by God as righteous was belief. I want to say, as was said more than once in scripture, “I do believe! Help me in my unbelief!”
Monday, February 12, 2018
no boasting
Sometimes we Christians can be pretty proud of our goodness. We got life right, we think, which makes us smarter and more righteous than anyone younger, or poorer, or of lesser rank.
Of course, we know better. We know the truth of Romans 3:22-27: “This righteousness is given through faith in Jesus Christ to all who believe. There is no difference between Jew and Gentile, for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, and all are justified freely by his grace through the redemption that came by Christ Jesus. . . . Where, then, is boasting? It is excluded.”
The Gentiles of Jesus’ day were the second-class citizens, but in God’s kingdom there is only one kind of person - the ones justified freely by his grace, the ones who’ve been given righteousness by faith alone. The ones who, like every human everywhere and through all time, have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God but were objects of mercy anyway.
We Christians are all falling-short sinners justified by grace. No boasting in that.
Of course, we know better. We know the truth of Romans 3:22-27: “This righteousness is given through faith in Jesus Christ to all who believe. There is no difference between Jew and Gentile, for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, and all are justified freely by his grace through the redemption that came by Christ Jesus. . . . Where, then, is boasting? It is excluded.”
The Gentiles of Jesus’ day were the second-class citizens, but in God’s kingdom there is only one kind of person - the ones justified freely by his grace, the ones who’ve been given righteousness by faith alone. The ones who, like every human everywhere and through all time, have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God but were objects of mercy anyway.
We Christians are all falling-short sinners justified by grace. No boasting in that.
Friday, February 9, 2018
no excuse
In business we talk a lot about core competencies, those things that we do best of all and better than most other people. I wonder if an honest American, or an honest Christian, wouldn’t acknowledge that judging other people is a core competency.
That’s a dangerous competency to have, in light of Romans 2:1: “You, therefore, have no excuse, you who pass judgment on someone else, for at whatever point you judge another, you are condemning yourself, because you who pass judgment do the same things.”
Dangerous, because none of us are in a position to judge. None of us has a clean slate. And, in a very real sense, we share the same weaknesses, because in the final analysis all sins are the same. All sins at their core are disrespect to God. All sins at their core involve us ignoring our call to enter into an ever-closer relationship with him.
But there’s more. Look at verse 4: “Or do you show contempt for the riches of his kindness, forbearance and patience, not realizing that God’s kindness is intended to lead you to repentance?”
That’s what we do when we judge. We turn up our noses to the gifts of the Spirit, instead choosing to respond with the same kind of grace God showed us.
It’s obvious that we’re letting some worldly attitudes creep into our interactions with others. I do. I need to judge less and love more.
That’s a dangerous competency to have, in light of Romans 2:1: “You, therefore, have no excuse, you who pass judgment on someone else, for at whatever point you judge another, you are condemning yourself, because you who pass judgment do the same things.”
Dangerous, because none of us are in a position to judge. None of us has a clean slate. And, in a very real sense, we share the same weaknesses, because in the final analysis all sins are the same. All sins at their core are disrespect to God. All sins at their core involve us ignoring our call to enter into an ever-closer relationship with him.
But there’s more. Look at verse 4: “Or do you show contempt for the riches of his kindness, forbearance and patience, not realizing that God’s kindness is intended to lead you to repentance?”
That’s what we do when we judge. We turn up our noses to the gifts of the Spirit, instead choosing to respond with the same kind of grace God showed us.
It’s obvious that we’re letting some worldly attitudes creep into our interactions with others. I do. I need to judge less and love more.
Thursday, February 8, 2018
set apart
No profound thoughts this morning, just a much needed and sobering reminder from the Apostle Paul, found in his greeting started in Romans 1:1: “Paul, a servant of Christ Jesus, called to be an apostle and set apart for the gospel of God . . . .”
I’ve often wished to be more like Paul. Was there a man more effective in spreading the Gospel. Was there anyone more responsible for winning souls to Christ, and for enabling disciples to live faithfully? Maybe not. I’d like to be like that.
Paul doesn’t make any secret of his success, but the truth is I shrink from his method. I want to serve, but do I really want to be set apart for service? For that to be the sum of who I am and what I do?
Could I, like Paul, work long hard days for the sole purpose of funding ministry in a way that puts no burden on those I serve? Afterward, could I give my evenings freely to teaching and prayer, and my weekends to evangelizing?
Of course I could. But I don’t.
But I could.
I’ve often wished to be more like Paul. Was there a man more effective in spreading the Gospel. Was there anyone more responsible for winning souls to Christ, and for enabling disciples to live faithfully? Maybe not. I’d like to be like that.
Paul doesn’t make any secret of his success, but the truth is I shrink from his method. I want to serve, but do I really want to be set apart for service? For that to be the sum of who I am and what I do?
Could I, like Paul, work long hard days for the sole purpose of funding ministry in a way that puts no burden on those I serve? Afterward, could I give my evenings freely to teaching and prayer, and my weekends to evangelizing?
Of course I could. But I don’t.
But I could.
Wednesday, February 7, 2018
doubt
Sometimes I doubt. After a lifetime of experiencing God’s faithfulness, sometimes I still wonder if I have it right, if maybe those opposing voices don’t have a point. Sometimes it seems like my faith puts me at odds with too many other people for it to be right.
I think I’m not alone in that. In fact, I was comforted today to read the last chapter of Matthew, chapter 28. Especially verses 16-17: “Then the eleven disciples went to Galilee, to the mountain where Jesus had told them to go. When they saw him, they worshiped him; but some doubted.”
Even the ones who saw Jesus in the flesh, who knew for a fact he had died on the cross, who heard all the testimonies even if they didn’t see all the miracles, even some of those doubted. That’s part of being human.
Here’s my comfort: Jesus knows. He walked my human path and lived my human life. He knows, and in my doubt he has never failed to let himself be known. Each time, he has given me a nudge, or a poke, or a smack upside the head - whatever it took in that moment to get me to see him here with me. Truly, he has never forsaken me, even in my doubt.
I think I’m not alone in that. In fact, I was comforted today to read the last chapter of Matthew, chapter 28. Especially verses 16-17: “Then the eleven disciples went to Galilee, to the mountain where Jesus had told them to go. When they saw him, they worshiped him; but some doubted.”
Even the ones who saw Jesus in the flesh, who knew for a fact he had died on the cross, who heard all the testimonies even if they didn’t see all the miracles, even some of those doubted. That’s part of being human.
Here’s my comfort: Jesus knows. He walked my human path and lived my human life. He knows, and in my doubt he has never failed to let himself be known. Each time, he has given me a nudge, or a poke, or a smack upside the head - whatever it took in that moment to get me to see him here with me. Truly, he has never forsaken me, even in my doubt.
Tuesday, February 6, 2018
no defense
There’s something really amazing about Jesus’ arrest and trial. I read about it again today in Matthew 27, and was particularly struck by verse 14: “But Jesus made no reply, not even to a single charge—to the great amazement of the governor.”
Jesus didn’t even try to defend himself, at his arrest or at his trial. He had every possible defense. He could have easily avoided arrest, and as a completely innocent man he surely had effective defense against false charges.
But Jesus was OK being convicted and killed. He was fine with it - in fact, it was why he came. I can’t imagine. I can’t imagine giving myself up like that for people who hate me, or are indifferent to me.
That’s how much Jesus loves me. He never intended to do anything but die for me.
My love seems paltry in comparison. But I sure do love him for it.
Jesus didn’t even try to defend himself, at his arrest or at his trial. He had every possible defense. He could have easily avoided arrest, and as a completely innocent man he surely had effective defense against false charges.
But Jesus was OK being convicted and killed. He was fine with it - in fact, it was why he came. I can’t imagine. I can’t imagine giving myself up like that for people who hate me, or are indifferent to me.
That’s how much Jesus loves me. He never intended to do anything but die for me.
My love seems paltry in comparison. But I sure do love him for it.
Monday, February 5, 2018
wasted
The story of the woman who poured perfume on Jesus’ feet seemed to me this morning to resonate with my church experience.
Here’s the part I’m thinking of, from Matthew 26:6-9: “While Jesus was in Bethany in the home of Simon the Leper, a woman came to him with an alabaster jar of very expensive perfume, which she poured on his head as he was reclining at the table.
“When the disciples saw this, they were indignant. ‘Why this waste?’ they asked.’This perfume could have been sold at a high price and the money given to the poor.’”
“Why are we wasting money on that?” That’s an argument often used when the church isn’t spending money on our thing, or when the deacons ask us for more money because funds are getting tight. “We used to meet at the Christian School instead of church. We used to have volunteers mow the lawn. That’s not really a ministry. He already gets money from the denomination.” These are all arguments I’ve heard from people in my church.
Another good one: “Why are we doing a service project for her?” Reasons not to help include these: She gets money from the state. Her family could help her but aren’t. She’s not in church very often, or she doesn’t attend our church. She doesn’t really need it.
The fact is, it’s easy for us all to question the motives of other people. Additionally, when we get right down to it, none of us deserves the good things other people do for us. This simple story reminds us that Jesus is less interested in what we do than why we do it.
If we spend money out of gratitude, with a desire to spread God’s message of grace, then we won’t be wrong. If we serve because God calls us to be his hands and feet in the world, and to bless others less fortunate, then we won’t waste our efforts.
God sees our generosity and our grudging, grumbling negativity. Thankfully, he forgives the latter just as he blesses the former.
Here’s the part I’m thinking of, from Matthew 26:6-9: “While Jesus was in Bethany in the home of Simon the Leper, a woman came to him with an alabaster jar of very expensive perfume, which she poured on his head as he was reclining at the table.
“When the disciples saw this, they were indignant. ‘Why this waste?’ they asked.’This perfume could have been sold at a high price and the money given to the poor.’”
“Why are we wasting money on that?” That’s an argument often used when the church isn’t spending money on our thing, or when the deacons ask us for more money because funds are getting tight. “We used to meet at the Christian School instead of church. We used to have volunteers mow the lawn. That’s not really a ministry. He already gets money from the denomination.” These are all arguments I’ve heard from people in my church.
Another good one: “Why are we doing a service project for her?” Reasons not to help include these: She gets money from the state. Her family could help her but aren’t. She’s not in church very often, or she doesn’t attend our church. She doesn’t really need it.
The fact is, it’s easy for us all to question the motives of other people. Additionally, when we get right down to it, none of us deserves the good things other people do for us. This simple story reminds us that Jesus is less interested in what we do than why we do it.
If we spend money out of gratitude, with a desire to spread God’s message of grace, then we won’t be wrong. If we serve because God calls us to be his hands and feet in the world, and to bless others less fortunate, then we won’t waste our efforts.
God sees our generosity and our grudging, grumbling negativity. Thankfully, he forgives the latter just as he blesses the former.
Friday, February 2, 2018
keep watch
One of the most chilling passages in all of the Bible is, to me, the story of the ten virgins. You probably remember it - they all fell asleep while waiting for the groom to show up for a wedding party. When he came, half were unprepared and their lamps were out of oil.
Here’s the scary part, from Matthew 25:10-13: ““But while they were on their way to buy the oil, the bridegroom arrived. The virgins who were ready went in with him to the wedding banquet. And the door was shut.
“Later the others also came. ‘Lord, Lord,’ they said, ‘open the door for us!’
“But he replied, ‘Truly I tell you, I don’t know you.’
“Therefore keep watch, because you do not know the day or the hour.”
This is a parable about the second coming of Jesus, and it scares the willies out of me. It reminds me that I’m not keeping watch. Too many days my eyes are looking down, focused on life here on earth. My purpose too often is on my life here.
Oh, I try to have devotions daily, and to spend time in reflection. But I struggle to leave behind my besetting sins, and often I hinder rather than help my brothers and sisters. Napping while my lamp burns out seems too accurate a picture of some of my days.
What if Jesus comes on one of those days? Am I really ready? No, of course I’m not - I never could be, on my own. By by God’s grace, when Jesus comes he’ll open the door for me. Not because I was a faithful watcher, but because he is a faithful savior.
Here’s the scary part, from Matthew 25:10-13: ““But while they were on their way to buy the oil, the bridegroom arrived. The virgins who were ready went in with him to the wedding banquet. And the door was shut.
“Later the others also came. ‘Lord, Lord,’ they said, ‘open the door for us!’
“But he replied, ‘Truly I tell you, I don’t know you.’
“Therefore keep watch, because you do not know the day or the hour.”
This is a parable about the second coming of Jesus, and it scares the willies out of me. It reminds me that I’m not keeping watch. Too many days my eyes are looking down, focused on life here on earth. My purpose too often is on my life here.
Oh, I try to have devotions daily, and to spend time in reflection. But I struggle to leave behind my besetting sins, and often I hinder rather than help my brothers and sisters. Napping while my lamp burns out seems too accurate a picture of some of my days.
What if Jesus comes on one of those days? Am I really ready? No, of course I’m not - I never could be, on my own. By by God’s grace, when Jesus comes he’ll open the door for me. Not because I was a faithful watcher, but because he is a faithful savior.
Thursday, February 1, 2018
Permanent
I’m easily distracted by buildings. I like to look at hundred-year-old houses. The magnificent architecture surrounding the Mall in Washington DC are one of the best parts of any visit. And the variation in cities from London to Paris to Seoul to Baku are a key point of interest in my travels.
One of the things I think about those beautiful buildings is this: God put those materials in the earth, and engineered this world to obey the laws of physics. Then he made us with inquisitive, learning minds and a drive to create, so that in the end, amazing architecture is to me as much a revelation of God as any other part of creation.
All of that came to mind when I read Matthew 24, especially the first two verses: “Jesus left the temple and was walking away when his disciples came up to him to call his attention to its buildings.’Do you see all these things?’ he asked.’Truly I tell you, not one stone here will be left on another; every one will be thrown down.’”
Jesus, I’m sure, noticed the most magnificent buildings in Jerusalem, but they weren’t important to him. His response to his awed disciples communicates a pointed message: even the grandest works of man will fail.
That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t build - this creative drive is part and parcel of what it means to be an image-bearer of God. It does mean, though, that we should never give human accomplishments the same weight as the works of God.
That’s what humanists do: they elevate human accomplishment and potential to the level of a religion. It’s what religious people do when they start following a person - you know this is happening when they say, “Dr. So-and-So says” instead of “the Bible says.”
This passage challenges me to stand in awe of the works of God. As I watch elite athletes do amazing things in the Olympics, as I admire the amazing building where the Super Bowl will be played, as I put my hopes in programs designed by politicians, I want to also see the super blue blood moon and the greening of spring and the development of my grandchildren. The God revealed in the splendor of his creation is the only truly permanent thing in this world.
One of the things I think about those beautiful buildings is this: God put those materials in the earth, and engineered this world to obey the laws of physics. Then he made us with inquisitive, learning minds and a drive to create, so that in the end, amazing architecture is to me as much a revelation of God as any other part of creation.
All of that came to mind when I read Matthew 24, especially the first two verses: “Jesus left the temple and was walking away when his disciples came up to him to call his attention to its buildings.’Do you see all these things?’ he asked.’Truly I tell you, not one stone here will be left on another; every one will be thrown down.’”
Jesus, I’m sure, noticed the most magnificent buildings in Jerusalem, but they weren’t important to him. His response to his awed disciples communicates a pointed message: even the grandest works of man will fail.
That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t build - this creative drive is part and parcel of what it means to be an image-bearer of God. It does mean, though, that we should never give human accomplishments the same weight as the works of God.
That’s what humanists do: they elevate human accomplishment and potential to the level of a religion. It’s what religious people do when they start following a person - you know this is happening when they say, “Dr. So-and-So says” instead of “the Bible says.”
This passage challenges me to stand in awe of the works of God. As I watch elite athletes do amazing things in the Olympics, as I admire the amazing building where the Super Bowl will be played, as I put my hopes in programs designed by politicians, I want to also see the super blue blood moon and the greening of spring and the development of my grandchildren. The God revealed in the splendor of his creation is the only truly permanent thing in this world.
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