Advent is a season of waiting. It’s about waiting for God’s redemption, for his promised deliverance from the power of sin and death. It’s about learning to wait faithfully and patiently, trusting God to keep his promise; it’s about preparing ourselves to celebrate Christmas by using the time leading up to that celebration to examine our hearts and discipline our impatience. Especially in our broadband microwave instant-oatmeal society, it’s about stepping back from our culture’s emphasis on fasterfasterfaster and learning to slow down, to understand that just because God doesn’t give us what we want rightnow doesn’t mean he isn’t at work; it’s about learning to understand the work he does in our lives while we wait.And it’s about learning to understand the importance of trusting God in the waiting, and for the waiting. The Exodus gives us a great example of that. You may remember the story of how Joseph was sold into slavery in Egypt, and eventually rose to power as the right-hand man of the Pharaoh, the king of that nation; and how in a time of famine, Joseph’s father and brothers and their whole household came down from Israel to live in Egypt. For a long time, this worked out well, and Joseph’s family grew into a large and flourishing tribe, known as the Hebrews; but then a Pharaoh came to power who hated and feared them, and made them slaves as the first step in destroying them. They cried out to him to deliver them, and did he swoop down right away and set them free? No. People were born in slavery and died in slavery. The Pharaoh who first enslaved them died, and his heir took the throne, and their slavery continued. But in the proper time, when everything was right, God acted, and they were set free.And notice who he used: Moses. Though a Hebrew, Moses grew up in the palace as Pharaoh’s grandson; he was a golden boy. On the one hand, he could have settled in to his position as royalty, turned his back on the people from whom he came, and joined the oppressors; certainly many, many people in his position would have done so, given the chance, and many throughout history have. He didn’t do that. On the other hand, if he was going to be the one to free his people from slavery, you might have expected that he’d do that from his position of influence, as one of the heirs of the man who held the reins of power. That didn’t happen either. Instead, Moses’ life went all wrong: he let his anger get the best of him and killed an Egyptian who was beating one of his fellow Hebrews, and ended up having to flee to the desert to avoid being put to death. He had it all, he had the perfect opportunity to do whatever he wanted to do, and instead he ruined the whole thing—or so it must have seemed at the time—and left himself no choice but to run for his life. Sure, his early life had seemed promising, but he’d squandered that promise, and now he’d spent forty years out in the wilderness tending sheep. He was a nobody, a has-been, a footnote to history. He was a sermon illustration in the temples of Egypt on what happens when you lose your temper. That’s all.Except, he still had one thing: he still had faith in God, for whom he had chosen the side of his enslaved people over the side of luxury and privilege to begin with. He spent those forty years in the desert waiting, and maybe he still had ambitions or maybe he figured that he’d be a shepherd in the wilderness for the rest of his life, but he never stopped believing that God would be faithful to set his people free from their slavery in Egypt; and so when the time was right, God came to him and said, “Moses, I’ve chosen you to go tell Pharaoh to let my people go.” To be sure, Moses argued with him, but in the end, he went and told Pharaoh to let his people go; and in the end, Pharaoh didn’t really, but God delivered them anyhow, with Moses leading the way.There’s an important lesson in this, I think: when we’re waiting for God’s deliverance—from whatever we might need him to deliver us from—our waiting isn’t wasted time, and it isn’t unnecessary. It’s God preparing the ground, and preparing us—not only for our own deliverance, but to be his agent of deliverance for others as well. This is how he works, in this time between the times, when Jesus has come to begin the reign of God on earth but not returned to complete that work; he has left us in place here as his body, the body of Christ, his hands and feet through whom he works to carry on his ministry. What God is doing in us and for us isn’t just about us; as we wait for the answers to our prayers, he’s lining things up to answer them in the proper time, but he’s also preparing us to be the answer to other people’s prayers. We wait, not only for God to deliver us, but for him to work through us to deliver others; and even the waiting is part of his work.(Excerpted, edited, from “Deliverance”)
Category Archives: Discipleship
Holy dread
I live with the dread of tame, domesticated Christianity. I fear for my students that they will chase after what they want—and therefore miss what God wants.—Dr. Howard HendricksWhat a remarkable statement. My thanks to the Rev. Dr. Ray Ortlund for posting this. It is, I think, far too rare a realization that missing out on what God wants for us is a far greater loss, and far more to be feared, than missing out on what we want. As C. S. Lewis said in perhaps his greatest single work, “The Weight of Glory,”
Indeed, if we consider the unblushing promises of reward and the staggering nature of the rewards promised in the Gospels, it would seem that Our Lord finds our desires, not too strong, but too weak. We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased.
May God deepen and strengthen our desires, and expand our vision.
On alcoholism and not laughing at the vulnerable
This monologue by Craig Ferguson has of course been around for quite a while, since he delivered it in February of last year; but I keep going back to it, and finding people who need to hear it and haven’t, so I decided to post it. (I’m aware of the irony in doing so, given that the video I posted yesterday is after all a beer ad; but though that ad was used to sell beer, it wasn’t about the beer, and I posted it for other reasons.) I will note that there is a little profanity in this monologue; but there’s also a great deal of wisdom in it.
Along with that, here’s an interview he did with Eye to Eye about his decision not to go after Britney Spears:
Relevance, busyness, and fruit
Speaking of quotes, I got out of the habit of checking the Rev. Dr. Ray Ortlund’s blog, Christ Is Deeper Still, when he took a couple weeks off to go hunting; which means I have a lot to catch up with, since he puts up a lot of great material. In his recent posts, I particularly appreciate two, which seem to me to stand in striking juxtaposition (though no one seems to have commented on this). The first is this quote from Thomas Oden:
I am doggedly sworn to irrelevance, insofar as relevance implies a corrupt indebtedness to modernity. . . . My deepest desire as a theologian is to be permitted to study the unchanging God without some pragmatic reason. I simply want to enjoy the study of God—not write about it, not view it in relation to its political residue, or pretentiously imagine it will have some social effect. The joy of inquiry into God is a sufficient end in itself. . . .
I relish those times when there are no responsibilities but to engage in this quiet dialogue that is my vocation. Then, I readpray, studypray, workpray, thinkpray, because there is nothing I more want to do.
So when old activist friends ask why I’m not out there on the street working to change the world, I answer that I am out on the street in the most serious way by being here with my books, and if you see no connection there, you have not understood my vocation. I do not love the suffering poor less by offering them what they need more.
The second is this one, from the next day:
In this provocative blog post, C. J. Mahaney helps me ask a change-conducive question: “Am I deploying my daily life fruitfully or just racing through it busily?” I am drawn back to Psalm 1.
The psalm bristles with contrasts. Not nuances. Stark contrasts. And not because the psalm is simplistic but because it is so profound. In this world’s Gadarene rush of ever-expanding options we need that blunt clarity. Psalm 1 calls us back to the one choice we all face every day: good versus evil. It’s that profound. It’s a choice between simple confidence in the Spirit-filled ways of God versus nervous, hyper-active, carnal worldliness. . . .
It’s a picture of impotent restlessness versus fruitful quietness. Wasn’t it Pascal who said that all the world’s troubles are due to men’s inability to sit quietly in a room and read a book? Couldn’t we make that case for The Book?
Busyness can be a drug. It makes us feel important and needed. Fruitfulness is another matter. It is a miracle of God’s grace through his Word, imparted to a heart that stays quiet and low before him, set upon doing his will only.
It seems to me that there’s an important truth here: often, fruitfulness only comes by setting aside the activity that the world deems relevant. True fruitfulness comes from being rooted in God, and that requires time spent, not “doing something,” but sitting quietly in his presence. It requires time given over to “readpray, studypray, workpray, thinkpray,” that we may come to better know our God and draw more deeply from his life.
This means two things. First, as Mahaney says in the post Ortlund references, it’s very easy to avoid the truly important things by keeping ourselves very busy with the urgent things, because the world around us will see our busyness and approve; indeed, one difficulty in seeking to do the opposite can be that people will think we’re unproductive, and judge us accordingly. (Of course, that’s not without some reason, since one can always fall off into laziness this way as well, and actually become unproductive.) To be fruitful requires us to buckle down and identify what really matters, and then to focus on that; and thus it requires most of all that we devote ourselves to seeking God’s face, which we cannot effectively do in the midst of our busyness (though he can always interrupt our busyness, if he wills). For that, we need the spiritual disciplines of solitude and silence, “unproductive” though they may seem to be; and we need to be open to confront all the things about ourselves and our lives that we do not wish to confront.
Second, this means that we have to accept that our fruitfulness does not in the end arise out of our own strength. Certainly, we won’t be fruitful if we truly do nothing, but the sheer expenditure of energy won’t produce any fruit, either, if it’s merely our own. As Psalm 1 points out, the tree produces fruit not by frantic effort, but because it’s planted in good soil beside a river; it has sent its roots deep and is drinking deeply of the water, and drawing out the nutrients from that good soil. That is the effort from which the fruit comes, and no other.
The work of holiness
Put to death therefore what is earthly in you: sexual immorality, impurity, passion, evil desire, and covetousness, which is idolatry. On account of these the wrath of God is coming. In these you too once walked, when you were living in them. But now you must put them all away: anger, wrath, malice, slander, and obscene talk from your mouth. Do not lie to one another, seeing that you have put off the old self with its practices and have put on the new self, which is being renewed in knowledge after the image of its creator. Here there is not Greek and Jew, circumcised and uncircumcised,
barbarian, Scythian, slave, free; but Christ is all, and in all.Put on then, as God’s chosen ones, holy and beloved, compassionate hearts, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience, bearing with one another and, if one has a complaint against another, forgiving each other; as the Lord has forgiven you, so you also must forgive. And above all these put on love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony. And let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, to which indeed you were called in one body. And be thankful. Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly, teaching and admonishing one another in all wisdom, singing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, with thankfulness in your hearts to God. And whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him.—Colossians 3:5-17 (ESV)I said yesterday that the bad news is that we’re all sinners, and that we’ll never win free of that in this life. That’s the bad news of the law, for which the good news is Jesus Christ; and for those of us who bow to him as Lord, though we may never know complete freedom from sin this side of eternity, we don’t have to just give up and give in, either. God’s grace is at work in us, setting us free from sin, and while that work is unfinished, he never fails of his purposes. No matter how bad we might be (or might have been) or how holy we think we are now, no matter how old and set in our ways or how young and callow, God is at work in us, and he calls us to work with him, to align our efforts with his. Paul lays out two parts to that in this passage. First he says, all these things that belong to this fallen world and to your old selves, put them to death. It’s much the same thing he says in Romans 8:13, where he writes, “If you live according to the sinful nature, you will die; but if by the Spirit you put to death the misdeeds of the body, you will live.”This isn’t something we can accomplish in our own strength; our own efforts need to be a part of it, and there’s an important place for spiritual disciplines such as prayer, worship, and silence, but it’s only by the power of the Spirit of God that we can make any real progress in dealing with our sin. The goal is the complete rooting-out and destruction of sin in our lives; we’ll never reach it in this life, but it’s nevertheless the goal toward which we work. It’s an ongoing struggle against the sin in our lives, to weaken and starve it, so that through loss of strength and lack of food, it dies away little by little, losing its ability to draw us into sinful actions. This requires us to know our own sinfulness, to be aware of the ways in which our sin tricks us and overcomes us, if we are to fight against it intelligently; and it requires constant vigilance—but then, as the Irish politician and writer Edmund Burke noted, that’s always the price of true freedom.Along with this, Paul says, “Change your clothes!” The image here is of the old self with its sinful practices as a suit of clothes we wear, and of the new self, which is from God, as another suit of clothes. The more we come to appreciate the new life God has given us, the more we learn to see the old self, those old clothes, for the dirty things they are. Imagine coming home after some fiasco, soaked to the skin, cold to the bone, covered in mud and filth, and taking a long, hot shower, or perhaps a long, hot bath; when you’re warm and clean, are you going to put those clothes back on? And yet that, in a sense, is just what we do whenever we turn back to sin: we’ve been washed clean, and yet we put the filth of the old self back on. Paul says, “Don’t do that—put on the habits of your new life in Christ.”If we put these two commands together, we get a complete picture. As we work to put to death the inward reality of sin, we are also to be at work stripping ourselves of our sinful habits, which are rooted in that inward reality, and replacing them with new ones. For the things we need to set aside, Paul points on the one hand to the disordered desires which lead us to pursue the pleasures and things of the world instead of God, and on the other, to the destructive passions, and the destructive language that goes with them; put those aside, he says, take them off and get rid of them. In their place, clothe yourselves with a new way of living, one which is marked by compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, patience, and a forgiving spirit. These words describe an attitude that doesn’t give way to rage when one is done wrong but chooses to show grace, and is willing to waive one’s rights for the good of others, even when they don’t deserve it. The ultimate example of this is Jesus, who at times spoke quite sternly to the Jewish leaders who had set themselves against him, yet died on the cross for them, with a prayer for their forgiveness on his lips. Just so, says Paul, we should bear with one another and forgive one another just as Christ has forgiven us.Of course, it would be very easy to take these things and turn them into just another legalistic religion, just another way of putting faith in our own ability to be good enough—just work hard enough at being compassionate, kind, humble, gentle, patient, and forgiving, and you’ll please God. But look what Paul says next: clothe yourself with love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony, and let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts. In other words, these virtues aren’t individual things to be worked on individually and to be accomplished by stern effort—they’re supposed to be the fruit of the love of God and the peace of Christ in our lives. When are we not compassionate, kind, humble, and so on? When we don’t love the people we’re dealing with, or when we’re not at peace—when we’re in conflict within ourselves, when we’re in conflict with those around us, when we’re anxious, when we feel the weight of our own lives resting on our shoulders. But if we open ourselves up to the love of God—because love, too, is not something we do in our own strength; love comes from God, it’s his gift to us and his work in our lives—and let him fill us with his peace, then these virtues are the result.
Confrontation and reconciliation
Joyce over at tallgrassworship has an insightful post up on dealing with disagreements—one which caught my attention in a particular way because she’s taken my post from earlier today on Christian unity and applied it in a way that’s congruent with what I was saying but hadn’t occurred to me, and it’s always interesting to me when people do that. The fact that she’s sandwiched that between insights from Justin Taylor and the Rev. Dr. Ray Ortlund means I find myself in pretty good company, too. And of course, Joyce puts it all together in a very wise and thoughtful way, offering good counsel. I encourage you to read it, and consider it well.
Christian unity
I’ve posted this quote from Markus Barth, from his book The Broken Wall, before, but I think it bears repeating:
When no tensions are confronted and overcome, because insiders or outsiders of a certain class or group meet happily among themselves, then the one new thing, peace, and the one new man created by Christ, are missing; then no faith, no church, no Christ, is found or confessed. For if the attribute “Christian” can be given sense from Eph. 2, then it means reconciled and reconciling, triumphant over walls and removing the debris, showing solidarity with the “enemy” and promoting not one’s own peace of mind but “our peace.” . . . When this peace is deprived of its social, national, or economic dimensions, when it is distorted or emasculated so much that only “peace of mind” enjoyed by saintly individuals is left—then Jesus Christ is being flatly denied. To propose, in the name of Christianity, neutrality or unconcern on questions of international, racial, or economic peace—this amounts to using Christ’s name in vain.
This is, I think, the litmus test for all of our schemes and programs and ideas to grow the church: if we’re just creating conditions in which “insiders or outsiders of a certain class or group meet happily among themselves,” we may have great success in growing an organization—done skillfully, that sort of approach is certainly the path of least resistance in doing so—but what we’re producing won’t be the church.Christian unity costs us something. It costs us our egos, our comfort zones, and our ease. It calls us not to avoid those with whom we disagree, or with whom we have issues, or with whom we’re in conflict, but rather to confront them head-on—and to do so not with anger, or self-assertion, but with love and grace. This is not to say we must do so with approval; there are times when rebuke is necessary, and refusing to speak the hard truths is a violation of unity just as much as refusing to repent of our own sin and ask forgiveness. It is to say, however, that we cannot hang back from the work of reconciliation, and we cannot let mere disagreement become grounds for disunity. We may be rejected by others—but we cannot in good conscience be the ones to do the rejecting; and though there are times when God calls us to correct one another, even correction must be offered with open arms.
“May the Lamb that was slain receive the reward of His suffering!”
I just realized, I hadn’t remembered to post this. It’s a powerful little clip, and truly, as Jared says, a vivid picture of gospel-driven living.
Pro-life ministry in an oversexed society
One of the biggest things I miss about living in Canada is the newspapers. I miss having the Vancouver Sun and the National Post show up on the step every morning; I miss the caliber of the reporting, the vigor and sense of responsibility of the political coverage, the wit and keen eye of the columnists . . . it’s a long list, which absolutely must not omit the consistently superb movie reviews of Katherine Monk. (She writes great good reviews, and even better bad ones.)I was reminded today just how much I miss them when RealClearPolitics tossed up a link to a piece by George Jonas on Sarah Palin. I’d forgotten about George Jonas, which is too bad; it’s a typically good piece on the feminist reaction to the Palin nomination. Still, I was more interested in a link in the sidebar to an article by David Frum. The article is titled “Sarah and Todd Palin and the quiet success of the pro-life movement,” but that’s not really what the article is about; the true subject of the article is, as Frum puts it, “the transformation of the pro-life movement from an unambiguously conservative force into something more complex.” It’s about the way in which the evolution of the pro-life movement and the law of unintended consequences have significantly reshaped evangelical attitudes and social conservative politics. To quote Frum’s conclusion,
The experience of the Palin family symbolizes the effect of the pro-life movement on American culture: Abortion has been made more rare; unwed motherhood has been normalized. However you feel about that outcome, it is not well-described as either left-wing or right-wing.
In saying this, Frum has captured and crystallized something of which I was aware—in my own attitudes and approach to ministry, no less than in the lives of others—but which I hadn’t consciously thought about. Put simply, when pro-life concerns cross with the concern for other issues, the tie goes to the baby. We have learned, as Frum puts it earlier in his article, that
So long as unwed parenthood is considered disgraceful, many unwed mothers will choose abortion to escape disgrace. And so, step by step, the pro-life movement has evolved to an accepting—even welcoming—attitude toward pregnancy outside marriage.
Now, that “even welcoming” bit is wrong; but otherwise, he’s right. We came face to face with the law of unintended consequences and realized that the stigma on unwed motherhood was driving abortions, and so we set it aside for the greater good; what else are crisis pregnancy centers all about?Of course, that has unintended consequences of its own; as conservatives understand, subsidizing behavior encourages that behavior, and supporting unwed mothers certainly qualifies as a subsidy, if a private-sector one, on unwed motherhood. Thus, according to Frum’s statistics, some 37% of all babies born in the US are born out of wedlock. Whether this contributes to the ongoing decline of the institution of marriage in this country, I’m really not sure—I actually tend to think not, judging from my own experience (and here, the example of the Palin family would be a bit of anecdotal support for that as well), but I could easily be wrong—but it certainly contributes to the ongoing weakening of the sense that marriage and children are supposed to go together. Which isn’t a good thing . . . but is clearly a lesser evil than abortion.But still, it isn’t a good thing, and it needs to be resisted, and counterbalanced—but without providing incentives for abortion. What I think the interplay between rates of abortion and unwed motherhood demonstrates is that promoting abstinence by “going negative” doesn’t work (a point also made, from a different angle, by Lauren Winner in her superb book Real Sex: The Naked Truth about Chastity). We need to articulate the positive case for chastity—which, you will note, is a positive word, where “abstinence” is a negative one—and we need to do so holistically, weaving together emotional, social scientific, biological, relational, and, yes, theological arguments into a single cohesive and coherent position; we need to respond to the “elemental powers” view of sex with a greater and a higher vision, one which compellingly presents the idea that chastity is not self-deprivation, but is in fact a valuable self-discipline which leads to blessing. As churches, we need to contribute to that by moving away from the simplistic approaches to sexuality which we too often take and toward a fully-developed, fully-considered, fully biblical theology of sexuality and pleasure. “Just say no” doesn’t work, and especially not in our sex-saturated society; if we’re going to tell people they need to say “no” to something, we also have to help them understand what God is calling them to say “yes” to in its place. To do otherwise isn’t just bad theology—it’s bad ministry, and it doesn’t work.Update: Janice Shaw Crouse has an excellent column on reducing teen pregnancies and abortions.
Talking sense
I haven’t given a nod to Tyler Dawn in a while, which is remiss of me, because she puts up some really good stuff on her blog, Following Him Alone. I appreciated her thoughtful comment on the furor over Bristol Palin’s pregnancy, which captures some things I was thinking and feeling, but better than I’d been able to do; and even more, I appreciated her post “Rebuke without Relationship,” which captures something important that had never consciously occurred to me, but which makes intuitive sense. I commend them both to you.