Mercy and justice

Heidelberg Catechism
Q & A 11
Q. But isn’t God also merciful?

A. God is certainly merciful,1
but he is also just.2
His justice demands
that sin, committed against his supreme majesty,
be punished with the supreme penalty—
eternal punishment of body and soul.3

Note: mouse over footnote for Scripture references.

Andrew Kuyvenhoven writes (33-34),

The last of the three excuses attempts to play off God’s justice against God’s mercy. Polytheists . . . do that; they call on one god for protection against another. But our God is one (Deut. 6:4), and in the heart of our Father-Judge are no such contradictions. . . .

You and I have to do with a righteous God. He always punishes sin, temporally, eternally, in body and soul. Now our sins are either punished in Jesus—then it is all over—or we have to bear our own punishment.

Dr. Kuyvenhoven is right: God’s justice and mercy are not opposed, but united; and his mercy does not come by simply ignoring his justice. How it does come, how that happens, is the gospel.

The angle of faith

There are a lot of folks in this world who try to live the Christian life out of their own strength, according to their own wisdom, as it seems reasonable to them; and there are a lot of churches that cater to such folks, and operate on such principles. That, I think, is part of the reason for the modern desire for legalism that Jared Wilson has written so much about. The problem is, that just doesn’t work; you can’t live a life that is in any meaningful way Christian from the same perspective and the same set of assumptions from which the world operates. You just can’t do it. Following Christ in this life has to begin with the renewing of our minds, with a radical shift in perspective and assumptions, because it’s only from that new perspective that we can even see what the Christian life really is, let alone that it makes any sense at all.

From the world’s perspective, life is all about us; from the perspective of faith, it’s all about God. From a human perspective, the life of faith makes no sense, because we can’t control how God will take care of us; from the perspective of faith, we can see that he will always give us what is best for us, and always in time. And a human perspective on how to live the Christian life breaks down, because it understands neither the depth of our sin nor the goodness of God, into either legalism or lawlessness. The perspective of faith helps us to see just how bad our sin is, and just how thoroughly it permeates our lives—and just how great a gift our salvation is, and how wonderful the grace of God is, and how much better God is than anything this world has to offer; it inspires us to gratitude for that gift and the desire to please God, and to know God, and that is what drives the kind of life that pleases him. Indeed, only that can produce the kind of life that pleases him, because what he wants most of all is for us to seek him.

(Adapted from “The View from Saturday”)

The remarkable reach of the hand of God

Brent Bozell tells a remarkable story:

I was stunned to read on Life Site News that a new movie is being planned about Our Lady of Guadalupe, so-named for an appearance of the Virgin Mary near Mexico City in 1531 that’s credited with converting nine million indigenous Mexicans to Christianity. The film, still untitled, will be produced by Mpower Pictures, the company that was launched with the pro-life movie “Bella” in 2006 and founded by “The Passion of the Christ” producer Steve McEveety.

That a movie would be made about Our Lady of Guadalupe is amazing, but that wasn’t half the surprise. The movie is being written by Joe Eszterhas. Yes, the same Joe Eszterhas responsible for screenwriting filthy movies like “Basic Instinct” and most infamously, “Showgirls,” a movie so pornographic even the late Jack Valenti condemned it.

What I didn’t know until now is the story of the conversion of Joe Eszterhas in 2001, powerfully captured in his 2008 memoir entitled “Crossbearer: A Memoir of Faith.”

It’s yet another reminder that God doesn’t just do the impossible, he does the implausible. Read the whole thing.

The power of grace

I’m reading Larry Crabb’s book Real Church right now—I was given a copy by one of my fellow pastors here in town, and I expect we’ll be talking about it; I also expect I’ll be writing some about it, once I’ve finished it. I’ll have to, if I want to process it fully. For right now, I just want to post this quote from the book, which really struck me:

Grace has no felt power in our lives until it surprises the hell out of us.

Yeah, that’s the way of it, alright.

Free to repent

Ray Ortlund put up a wonderful post recently considering the question, “How come a stereotype of the church today is one of a ‘holier than thou’ mentality?” He offers some thoughts on the matter (which are well worth your time to read—it’s not a long post), then closes with this:

I know this. We Christians will see more repentance in our city when our city sees more repentance in us. And we can be honest about our failings, because it isn’t our performance that makes us okay. It’s Christ’s performance for us. That’s the gospel. It’s so freeing.

Amen. That’s the thing about the gospel: it sets us free from the need to be good enough, and thus from the need to convince others (and ourselves) that we already are good enough. You’ll never know how heavy a burden that is until you lay it down. I think that often, one of the biggest things that holds us back from repentance is the unwillingness to acknowledge to others that we are in fact sinners, because that would mean admitting that we aren’t good enough; it’s a wonderfully freeing thing to be able to lay that aside and just repent.

The wages of love

Jared Wilson, writing about an encounter between Craig Gross (of XXXChurch.com) and some colleagues, some of the Westboro Baptist Church crew (of “God Hates Fags” fame), and the American Idol tour (the WBC folks had come to protest Adam Lambert; Gross and his friends were counter-protesting), asks a penetrating question: “What Happens When You Love Haters?” On the evidence, the answer is, “Not what you’d expect.” Hate breeds more hate—but love can breed hate, too.

If you followed some of the Twitter brouhaha, you could see many Adam Lambert fans and supporters of gay rights causes cursing out Craig, telling him that God hated him, and saying plenty of things that make the Westboro crew sound downright genteel. They didn’t know he didn’t agree with the Westboro people; they just saw his proximity and saw him loving them. That was enough. They got confused and thought Craig was with Westboro.

Which says something really profound about a ministry of love. If you love everyone, no matter their brokenness and no matter their sin—prodigal or pharisaical—you’re gonna get slammed by both sides.

Run to win

Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one receives the prize? So run that you may obtain it. Every athlete exercises self-control in all things. They do it to receive a perishable wreath, but we an imperishable. So I do not run aimlessly; I do not box as one beating the air. But I discipline my body and keep it under control, lest after preaching to others I myself should be disqualified.

—1 Corinthians 9:24-27 (ESV)

I had a Sunday-school teacher one time who talked about Paul describing the life of faith as a race; and at some point during that class, he declared, “And Paul says, don’t run in order to win.” I argued with him (opinionated? Me? Whatever gave you that idea?), but he wouldn’t listen to me, and he wouldn’t look it up—he told me I didn’t know what I was talking about, changed the subject, and went on with the class.

Now, there are some mistakes I understand, but that one made no sense to me. I’m sure differences in temperament played in to this, since I can be a pretty competitive sort, but why would you want the Scripture to say, “Run, but don’t try to win?” If you aren’t trying as hard as you can to win, why are you bothering to run? Especially when you consider that in the life of faith, if we win, that doesn’t mean that everyone else loses—we can all win together, and in fact, the better each of us runs our own race, the more help we are to all those around us as they run theirs.

I suspect Paul saw things much the same way, since he clearly likes athletic metaphors. I imagine, from this and other aspects of his writings, that he had a pretty strong competitive streak; sure, he was a saint, and a brilliant man, and God used him powerfully to do amazing things in and for the body of Christ, but he can’t have been easy to live with. As well, he clearly had considerable respect for how hard the athletes of his time worked and how completely they focused themselves in order to give themselves the best chance possible to win the prize at the Games; it’s understandable why he saw them as a model for the Christian life.

The amazing thing, as he notes here, is that the prize for which those athletes competed was nothing more than a laurel wreath! Given a week or two, their prize would be no more. If they could work as hard as they did, if they could dedicate themselves as completely as they did, to win a prize they wouldn’t even be able to keep, shouldn’t we as Christians be at least as focused on the prize of eternal life which God has set before us? Shouldn’t we be running to win, rather than dawdling along by the side of the road, wandering off to explore the thistles?

Paul certainly thinks we should. Run the good race, he tells us; run well, run hard, run with all you have—run to win. Run to win, and stay focused on the prize before you; take hold of the eternal life to which you were called—it’s already yours, but you need to grab hold and live into it. Don’t let anything else sidetrack you or slow you down, but let everything you do be focused on running as well as you possibly can, to the glory of God and the accomplishment of his purposes.

(Adapted from “Run to Win”)

 

Homosexuality and the roots of division

Jared Wilson makes a very important point—one on which I’ve been intending to comment for several days—on the decision by the ELCA (Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, a seriously misnamed denomination) to allow self-affirmed practicing homosexuals to be ordained as pastors:

When concerned folks raise voices of protest and warning, when they say adamantly “This isn’t right,” they are accused of singling out the sin of homosexuality for special treatment, laser-focusing in on the homosexual as a sinner above all sinners, worse than the rest of us.

But I actually think it’s sort of the other way around. It is the proponents of gay clergy who single out homosexuality. It is they who are pressing us to respond to this issue. Nobody is pushing for resolutions on the allowance of adulterous clergy, of gossipy clergy, of alcoholic clergy, of p()rn-addicted clergy, or what-have-you.

It is not those who protest who are singling out this sin. It is the proponents of the sin as normative—or at least, passable—who are singling it out. . . .

And it isn’t those who believe the Bible when it says homosexual behavior is a sin that are being divisive; it is those who are introducing the idea that it isn’t. If you push a decision on something that innovates on the Bible’s testimony, you’re creating the division. But, sure, many of us will oblige in parting ways with you. If pressed—as when votes like this go the way they did—we will cooperate in division.

Read his whole post, because he has more to say beyond what I’m highlighting here, reflecting on the nature and origin of the historic creeds (and, I would argue, the confessions as well); I want to focus, though, on this point, because it’s an important one to understand. The division over the issue of homosexual behavior is the creation of those who want to change the church, and it has been created deliberately to accomplish that purpose; for them to blame that division and the fighting that goes with it on those who disagree with them, as if we should have just surrendered as soon as they made their first demand, is wildly unjust.

It’s interesting, if you hang around in mainline circles, you’re bound to hear folks on the left complaining that “they” (meaning the biblically orthodox) want to take “our” church away from “us.” Which would make sense if the church had taught for 2000 years that homosexual sex is just fine with God, and the view that it isn’t was the innovation. But that’s not how it is; it is, in fact, the exact backwards of the truth (as Mike Callahan might say). If anyone is trying to “take the church away” from anybody, it would be those who are trying to change the established teaching of the church going all the way back through the history of Israel to the writing of the book of Genesis.

Now, I do not say that the singling-out of homogenital contact as a particularly awful sin is the creation of the contemporary Left; that singling-out is itself a sin, and there’s no question that it didn’t originate in the years following Stonewall. But then, that’s not unique to homosexual activity, either; as G. K. Chesterton rightly protested in one of his Father Brown stories, the church has always tended to have fashionable sins, for which it makes excuses, and unfashionable ones, on which it comes down with excessive and graceless force; what they are changes with the times, but the tendency rolls on unabated. I do believe, though, that the way in which the Left has pursued its agenda on this point has served to exacerbate this problem among many on the Right, as counter-reaction pushes those unwilling to surrender biblical orthodoxy toward viewing homosexual activity as uniquely awful, and thus uniquely to be despised; and that does no one any good.