veiled hearts

The Jews of Paul’s day had a problem. They were so focused on following rules, they couldn’t see Jesus.

Paul wrote about it to the church in Corinth, 2 Corinthians 3:15-18: “Even to this day when Moses is read, a veil covers their hearts. But whenever anyone turns to the Lord, the veil is taken away. Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom. And we all, who with unveiled faces contemplate the Lord’s glory, are being transformed into his image with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit.”

I think Paul is writing about what Jesus did in destroying the veil to the Holy of Holies. Prior to that, our relationship with God was defined by our failures. The laws described what men should do, but the sacrifices acknowledged that men couldn’t. In order to even worship God, blood had to be shed to atone for sin. And the Holy of Holies, that place where once a year God met man, only one man could enter, and it was possible that he might be struck dead. 

Jesus took care of all that. Jesus lived perfectly, obeying every law of God. Jesus died, paying the ultimate blood price for all sin, for all of time. Jesus tore down the curtain that kept men from God’s presence.

People who try in any small way to earn their salvation are still the law-followers; their veiled hearts keep them from seeing what Jesus did. People who put their hope in Jesus have unveiled faces, and are transformed. The image of Moses, whose face was transformed by God’s glory, made to glow so that he had to wear a veil, is such a rich one in this context.

So which kind of Christian am I? Do I every veil my heart? Do I look to the things I do as important to save me? Do I consider following rules a part of salvation? Do I ever feel secure because I’ve lived a good life, or done good things?

Or do I see myself clearly, as a sinner-made-saint by the grace of God alone, a man who becomes more saintly every day that I remember my debt to the God of grace? 

I think mostly I’m the second kind, but I can remember times, recent times, when I was lured back to that old way of thinking. It’s easy to look at the doing side of faith rather than the believing. 

judgment

It’s easy to get the whole judgment thing wrong, backwards even. I want to judge all those people out there who can’t see the truth about Jesus. I want to judge the pagans.

It’s good to be reminded this morning that Paul refused to go down that road. In 1 Corinthians 5:12 I read these words he wrote: “What business is it of mine to judge those outside the church? Are you not to judge those inside? God will judge those outside.”

There are two critical errors I make that Paul points out here. The first is, I tend to give my fellow church members a pass. After all, we in the church like to say, “Don’t judge each other.” If someone shows up on Sunday and supports all the right causes, I’m likely to look at questionable behaviors and think, “That’s between them and God.” 

Paul says here that if someone else chooses to carry the name of Christ, then I and other Christians should hold them accountable. We need to help each other make our faith look as attractive as possible to the world, and at the same time never compromise the hope that it holds.

My second error is what I said at the start: I’m pretty quick to judge all those other people. I’ll judge slow drivers, people with bad grammar, or followers of pointless (to me) hobbies. If I’m that curmudgeonly with these harmless things, imagine how I can get when there’s actual sinning going on.

Again Paul corrects me: My job as it relates to non-believers is to win them over. Of course they sin – they don’t know Jesus yet! They’re still falling for all the things the Father of Lies whispers in their ears. They need to be rescued. 

Today I pray for good judgment, as in, being able to see those instances when I’m the right person to judge. I suspect it will turn out there aren’t very many.

imprisoned witness

There’s a little tidbit at the end of Romans that caught my eye this morning. I’m sure I’ve read it before, but I never really thought about it. At the end of Romans 16:23 I read this: “Erastus, who is the city’s director of public works, and our brother Quartus send you their greetings.”

I have no idea who Brother Quartus was, but we can figure some things out about Erastus. How big a deal do you have to be to become the director of public works in a city like Rome? Back then, you probably had to be nobility or at least very well connected to land a gig like that. 

So how did Paul manage to convert Erastus? I guess I’m assuming conversion, maybe Paul just made a good friend, but whichever, Erastus, upon learning that Paul was writing to the Christian churches, asked Paul to pass on his greetings. That makes the most sense if he was a fellow believer. 

Somehow, as a prisoner awaiting trial, Paul managed to connect with this powerful official, and to win him over. Somehow Paul built enough of a relationship that this Roman knew who Paul was writing – that suggests they had regular interaction. Granted, Paul wasn’t locked in a cell, he was under something like house arrest. Still, there’s no good reason for the director of public works to get involved with Paul – he could easily have avoided him if he wished.

I picture Paul being so unusual that the word started getting around. “You know, that prisoner? He’s the nicest guy. He asks about me and my family, and he says he prays to his God for me. And you know what? Life is going better since he started praying. What he says about this Jesus is kind of confusing, but if it makes someone live that way, there has to be something to it.”

I imagine that eventually Erastus heard of Paul, and then wanted to hear him. And Paul, the man in chains, made a friend of the church out of a Roman official.

But then, that's why Paul went to Rome, to testify at the highest levels of government. His single-mindedness paid off, not so much for Paul, but certainly for Erastus.

I hope my life is like that. I hope that just by living my days as I believe Jesus wants me to, I make faith in Jesus look good. I hope my witness, spoken and lived, attracts people rather than turns them off.

I’m trying to focus my life on that. Too many days, other stuff takes over, but more and more I’m able to keep Jesus at the center, and his people as the reason I’m here. And when I do that, it’s amazing what I see happening right here, during my routine life in this small town.

disputable matters

I’ve heard it said often that following Jesus is counter-cultural. I thought of that this morning while reading from Romans 14. 

The first four verses of that chapter say this: “Accept the one whose faith is weak, without quarreling over disputable matters. One person’s faith allows them to eat anything, but another, whose faith is weak, eats only vegetables. The one who eats everything must not treat with contempt the one who does not, and the one who does not eat everything must not judge the one who does, for God has accepted them. Who are you to judge someone else’s servant? To their own master, servants stand or fall. And they will stand, for the Lord is able to make them stand.”

Don’t quarrel over disputable matters. Don’t judge other people about what they do. There are probably more counter-cultural things I could do, but I can’t think of very many. Americans argue about everything, and the only ones who probably argue more are Calvinists. And judging people? Isn’t that covered in the Bill of Rights?

But Paul says that the best thing we can do for weaker brothers and sisters is to accept them lovingly in all areas, and to correct them only when it’s really important to do so. After all, every point of doctrine that is critical has been made clear. The disputable matters are the ones scripture doesn’t spell out. That means they aren’t critical for salvation – if they were, we’d be told the right answer.

So I need to set aside my need to be right, and let some things go. Church is about the indisputable matters, not the ones that are ambiguous. As always, love is more important that judgment. 

sober judgment

I’m struggling this morning with sober judgment. I know I need to have it, but I’m not sure how.

The reason I need it is to heed Paul’s admonition in Romans 12:3-5 “For by the grace given me I say to every one of you: Do not think of yourself more highly than you ought, but rather think of yourself with sober judgment, in accordance with the faith God has distributed to each of you. For just as each of us has one body with many members, and these members do not all have the same function, so in Christ we, though many, form one body, and each member belongs to all the others.”

So I get the need, and I see the reason, but the actual doing turns out to be surprisingly complex. First of all, sober judgment seems to be the antithesis of thinking too highly of myself. That by itself isn’t too bad; I’ve been told one way or another not to get a big head for most of my life. I get it that usually I’m not as good as I think I am.

Second, the ability to use sober judgment is linked somehow to my faith. Is it the fact of my faith that’s important here – meaning, so long as I have faith I’ll be able to exercise sober judgment? Or does this mean that the quality – soberness, maybe? – of my judgment depends on the strength or depth of my faith? 

Finally, the purpose seems significant to a lot more people than just me, meaning it’s important that I get this right. Paul suggests, using the word “for” to start the sentence, that he’s telling me to do this because there’s something about me that is meant to enhance the body of believers, which I take to mean my local church. 

This comes immediately after the well-known verse about transforming myself by the renewing of my mind, which makes me think this is primarily an intellectual exercise. Like using sober judgment to accurately think of myself is a key part of renewing my mind. 

All that makes me feel like there's something really important here, for me and for my church. In order to find my place in the body, I need to renew my mind, a big part of which is getting rid of these false ideas I may have of my own worth. And the key to doing this is to think of myself with sober judgment. 

So I’m struggling this morning with sober judgment. I know I need to have it, but I’m not sure how. I don’t get what about my judgment tends not to be sober, and how to change that. But it seems like a big enough deal that I’m praying about it.

glory revealed

Recently I watched a celebrity during a TV interview challenge the existence of God. One of his reasons for doubting God was that a good God would never put up with evil people. I never know how to answer that, but this morning I got something of a hint.

I was reading in Romans 9, that difficult passage about election, and I came to verses 22-24. They say, "What if God, although choosing to show his wrath and make his power known, bore with great patience the objects of his wrath—prepared for destruction? What if he did this to make the riches of his glory known to the objects of his mercy, whom he prepared in advance for glory— even us, whom he also called, not only from the Jews but also from the Gentiles?"

That's a great reason for God to tolerate evil people – to make the riches of his glory known to people who believe in him. God plans to wipe evil from this world and remake it anew, but he gives his chosen ones time to find him first, to get to know of all the great treasure that comes from a relationship with him. 

The hard part about this as a counter-argument is that it comes packaged with the thorny subject of election and predestination. I never know what to do with that. It seems like a doctrine better suited for discussion with believers than an argument to win souls. Likely the idea that God could save everyone but chooses to damn some would not be attractive to someone asking why he tolerates evil. Mercy is much more winsome than evil. 

This excellent but unpalatable answer is good for me to reflect on, though. It helps innoculate me against the kind of despair that caused so many to fall away from the church after the terrorist attacks of 9/11. It reminds me that God tolerates evil not because he isn't good, but because he is. He's good to those who put their hope in him. His focus is on the elect who haven't completed their journey yet; he will in his good time get to the others.

I hope someday that celebrity gets to see the truth about God. I've prayed for that, in fact. I'd love for everyone on earth to come to Jesus – I see the attractiveness of universalism. But neither this celebrity nor I get to decide how God should behave. As these verses say, God has chosen. In the end, that's enough for me.

suffering

I guess Calvin's dad (you know- the all-weather bicycler from the comic strip Calivn and Hobbes) was right, him and a few million other American dads. It sounds like suffering really does build character.

I say that because I read it this morning, in Romans 5:3-5: "Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us."

It's a tidy little sequence: suffering to perseverance to character to hope. If we just bear up under our suffering – that's what perseverance is, going on in spite of hardship – then we will develop character. Character will then enable us to see hope even in times of suffering.

All very logical, but where I get stuck is at the part about glorying in my sufferings. I've suffered, not as much as some but enough that I know what it's like. I didn't enjoy it, and I certainly didn't glory in it. Rather than reflecting on how great it was to be building character, I simply did everything I could to end my suffering as quickly as possible.

I don't think Paul or anyone would advocate suffering more or longer than you have to. And I don't think Paul meant just any old suffering, like from a tooth-ache. I've always believed that Paul meant when I suffer as an outcome of living out my faith, or suffer in a way that challenges my faith – I think of things like cancer or religious persecution or the loss of a spouse. Those kinds of things bring us back to the throneroom of God. 

That kind of suffering will obviously build our character if we persevere through it. But I still don't know that I have enough strength to glory in those kinds of things. I'd like to hope I do, but really I'm not a person who willingly endures negative experiences. Maybe that's why so far God hasn't sent me as much suffering as he has others.

I might be able to glory in suffering after the fact. I just took part in a reader's theater production of "Things We Couldn't Say," the story of Dutch resistance figher Diet Ehman that was written by James Schaap. At one point, writing to her fiance after months of imprisonment, she said she was glad she had gone through it, because it brought her closer to God. 

I can see myself reacting that way, after it's all said and done. I just struggle to see myself singing in prison, like Peter. But I have faith that if I'm ever called to go through that, I won't do it alone. And maybe that kind of strength will be there when I need it.