sacrifices

A large part of Hebrews, much of the first 10 chapters, is a detailed explanation of how the old law of the sacrifice is past. Those old, ineffective sacrifices, meant merely as a temporary stopgap, were ended with the sacrifice of God himself on the cross.

But there are still sacrifices for Christians of our time to make. Two, to be specific.

Hebrews 13:15-16 says, “Through Jesus, therefore, let us continually offer to God a sacrifice of praise—the fruit of lips that openly profess his name. And do not forget to do good and to share with others, for with such sacrifices God is pleased.”

God expects our sacrifices of praise. He expects that with our words we will be bold to proclaim how good he has been to us. He also expects us to be good people who do good things and are generous with our blessings. Those are the sacrifices of the Jesus-follower of today.

How do I square that with the times I choose to keep silent rather than have people know of my faith? That happens sometimes, when I’m in a business setting and world views are being discussed. 

How do I square it with the times my lips have professed things that shame his name? The times I’ve spoken hatefully of earnest people who disagree with me were, in a way, professing negative things about God – I’ve openly identified myself with him, so it would be reasonable for people who hear me to assume that I’m reflecting God’s values.

How do I square these requirements with the times I’ve opted to stay home rather than join a service project, or kept money I could have given to a cause?

There are many, many times that I’ve brought these sacrifices. I profess God’s name and praise him daily, in these blogs. I think on the whole I’m quick to help and quick to give. But do I sacrifice in proportion to God’s goodness and what I owe him?

That’s a goal, to bring even more worthy sacrifices than I have.

discipline

Nobody volunteers for discipline, but everyone wants it.

When someone says, “She’s disciplined,” that’s a compliment. Discipline is an enviable character trait; I’ve summarized it before simply as the ability to say no to yourself. Discipline is the strength to do the good things we don’t want to, and to deny ourselves the bad things that we want. Discipline goes hand in hand with high achievement, because it focuses and leverages our strengths.

When someone says, “I need to discipline you,” that’s a bad thing. None of us wants that. Discipline at the hands of someone else feels like punishment. In fact, it may be that the only difference between the two is how much the person doing it cares about you.

But the fact is, you can’t be a disciplined person without sometimes having someone discipline you, and without routinely disciplining yourself.

Hebrews 12 discusses the correction our earthly fathers give us and contrasts it with God. Look at this, from verses 10 and 11: “They disciplined us for a little while as they thought best; but God disciplines us for our good, in order that we may share in his holiness. No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it.”

There’s a significant difference between discipline as understood by most people and discipline as described by the author of Hebrews. We think of discipline as correction or self-correction that enables us to achieve. But God’s discipline is a paring away of harmful behaviors intended to make us more holy. Discipline as our culture understands it helps us get promoted or lose weight. God’s discipline gives us righteousness and peace. 

That changes things. Nobody volunteers for discipline, but I might raise my hand to an offer of more righteousness and peace.

confidence and hope

Confidence and hope seem to be dissimilar to me. Confidence suggests certainty. Hope connotes a level of uncertainty; we want some thing, we hope it comes to pass, but we’re just not sure. 

The author of Hebrews sees a close link, though, as expressed in Hebrews 11:1-2: “Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see. This is what the ancients were commended for.”

Faith and hope are closely linked because faith at it’s core is an expression of belief in something we can’t prove. It doesn’t take faith to believe something that we can support with facts and evidence. It would take faith to believe in unicorns, but it doesn’t take any to believe horses exist. 

But, Hebrews says, faith makes us confident in what we hope for. Our hope isn’t a fervent wish, it’s a vision of a good future that we can know with certainty is coming. It’s assurance that even though we can’t see heaven, or God, they are as real as the homes we live in and the people we talk to every day.

That’s because at it’s root we don’t have faith in the thing, but in the God who promises the thing. He’s the guarantee of all our hopes. That’s why hope is the right word to describe how Christians live; confidence and assurance are good words to describe our hope.

spurs and encouragement

I’m challenged this morning about how I use my words. 

I talk, a lot. I don’t always want to, but it’s part of my job, and important to my relationships. Sometimes I talk more than I should, sometimes I don’t speak up when I should, but overall I talk as much as anyone.

And what do I do when I talk? Well, I coach and teach. I communicate requirements. I ask questions so I can learn and understand. I share my experiences. I explore new ideas, and interact to form opinions. So far, nothing much wrong.

But as I do it, I often use sarcasm. I’m not above the occasional pointed barb. In keeping with the spirit of our current culture, I sometimes pander to the general admiration of snarky putdowns. And sometimes, I share too much about what I don’t like, and drag people into gripe sessions that serve only to exaggerate the actual problem.

Hebrews 10:24-25 says, “And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds, not giving up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but encouraging one another —and all the more as you see the Day approaching.”

How much of what I say encourages love and good deeds? I don’t think sarcasm, snark and rants are effective ways to do that. Certainly anything I say that encourages us to look at someone else as “them” is the opposite of encouraging love.

There’s a way to improve my engagement in love and good deeds, a way to reduce the meanness that creeps in all too often. It’s in this passage too, advice not to give up meeting together. You see, there’s a place where we’re all encouraged: God’s church. Love and good deeds is the church’s thing because it’s what God wants.

So churchgoers do more than just encourage each other; we spur each other on. Spurs are used to goad horses, so it’s not a metaphor that really speaks to most of us. It’s more like we’re all running partners, right there side by side, putting in the effort, not wanting to be the one who drops out, slowing to allow each other to keep up, pulling each other along with our support. Spurring each other on, not to finish a run, but to show love and good deeds.

Extending that metaphor, I fear too often I incent people to drop out. It’s not what I want, so I guess it’s time to be sure I show up at church.

happy servants

It’s easy to think so much about grace and salvation that we forget there’s a reason. God is love, but he didn’t save us just for ourselves, so we could live the lives we want. He saved us for his own purposes.

Hebrews 9:14 says: “How much more, then, will the blood of Christ, who through the eternal Spirit offered himself unblemished to God, cleanse our consciences from acts that lead to death, so that we may serve the living God!”

We get clean consciences and freedom from death so that we can serve. God has work for us to do. He has goals for the world, things he intends to do. Those things involve us, the ones he has saved.

At first that doesn’t sound good, does it? It sounds not far from slavery. “OK, I saved you so now I own you and you have to do what I tell you to.” That’s truth, of course, but our human natures don’t like it. Because we don’t realize that what our natures want isn’t going to make us happy. But serving God will. 

We were made for exactly this. All of our giftedness and our sociability and our love of engagement perfectly fits us for God’s purposes. When we serve as we were made to, we find joy. When we push back against God and try to go our own way, we end up miserable. 

In the end, all God is trying to do is bring us back to what he knows (because he designed and made us) will make us happiest. That’s why he saved us.

once

Once there was a man, a Jewish carpenter who became a rabbi. This man was also God, immaculately conceived and perfect in every way. He lived, and then he died. Once.

But that wasn’t an ordinary death – not even close. When Jesus died, he paid for every sin that ever was; he covered every sinner who ever lived. After tens of generations of faithful priests who killed millions of animals to temporarily atone for peoples’ sins, Jesus did it for all time by dying once.

Because of that, I’ll die once and be judged once, but on judgment day God will see me spotless. When I show up in my grimy sinner-clothes, Jesus will say, “He’s one of mine,” and cover me with a stainless robe of salvation, one just like he wears. When God looks to judge me, he’ll see instead the perfection of Jesus, and instead of recounting my sins he’ll recall Jesus on the cross.

Hebrews 9:27-28: “Just as people are destined to die once, and after that to face judgment, so Christ was sacrificed once to take away the sins of many; and he will appear a second time, not to bear sin, but to bring salvation to those who are waiting for him.”

Hallelujah, what a savior!

better hope

I’ve disappointed more than one of my friends and family, and probably some of my readers, by my opinion that we Christians put way too much faith in political power. I’ve said many times in many different ways that power can enforce behavior but not belief, and that you’ll never change a heart with a law. Saving souls isn’t something the government can do; as Chuck Colson famously said, “Salvation doesn’t come on Air Force One.”

I doubt I’ve changed many minds. In fact, almost everyone I know still thinks a conservative Supreme Court will counter our moral decline.

But here, in Hebrews 7:18-19, I find what appears to me to be some support for my belief: “The former regulation is set aside because it was weak and useless (for the law made nothing perfect), and a better hope is introduced, by which we draw near to God.”

Jesus came precisely because laws can’t save us. Laws make it very clear how we should be, but have no power to actually make us that way. At most, they can make us do things we wouldn’t otherwise in those situations where someone is watching. (Don’t believe me? Ever hit your brakes when you see a cop?) It’s like the thing about cats: you can’t train them to stay off the counter. You can only train them to stay off the counter when you’re in the room.

There is no hope in the law. There’s a world of hope in changed hearts. Wouldn’t this be an amazing country if people wanted to be morally and ethically good? If no one wanted to use drugs or gamble or hurt anyone else? We’ve been unable to solve those problems despite a comprehensive legal code and the best police forces in the world, because too many hearts are wicked.

Here’s the thing: only Jesus can change a heart. Jesus showed us what a perfect life looks life, and died himself to cover our imperfections. Jesus is the very Word that spoke this world into being. Jesus is the omnipotent, omniscient and omnipresent Lord of the universe. He’s not only a better hope, he’s our only hope.

Only Jesus can change a heart, but any one of us can introduce someone to Jesus.