|
bbarczi
|
read my profile
sign my guestbook
Name: Ben
Gender: Male
Interests: Jesus, teaching the Bible, Philosophy, Theology, Reading good books by my fireplace, Emo-ish music, Art (of any and all kinds), Graphic Design & Typography,
Occupation: Pastor
Message: message meEmail: email me
Member Since:
12/23/2005
|
|
| It's been a long while since I've used this blog, and I've decided to disband it. But I have another one going, which will consist of mediations on living the Christian life and fighting to be delighted in Christ above all else. it's at www.gospelmind.org, so go check it out if you like. | | |
| Martin Luther reminds us of what we all need to hear and preach to ourselves, every day:
"If you wish to placate Me, do not offer Me your works and merits. But believe in Jesus Christ, My only Son, who was born, who suffered, who was crucified, and who died for your sins. Then I will accept you and pronounce you righteous."
--Martin Luther, Lectures on Galatians, 1535
| | |
| A number of (Protestant) friends and I have begun praying the Liturgy of the Hours (set prayers offered every three hours—6a, 9a, 12p, 3p, 6p, 9p). I've also been observing the Church Calendar—Lent, Feast Days, Solmenities, etc. When I tell people this, especially those of my friends who are Protestants [alright, I don't like that term either, but it's the most concise way of saying "Christians who are not Roman Catholic or Orthodox"], people most often look at me funny. They don't say it, but I can tell that they are thinking, "Weird. Overzealous. Maybe slightly legalistic."
Alright, I'll admit that all three charges hold at some level. It seems most people are disposed either toward debauchery or hypocrisy, and I'm certainly the latter. My sinfulness manifests itself in ways you might think are actually holiness. Example: once, in high school, I was in my room reading a book about loving others when my mom interrupted me—and I felt righteous indignation. How dare she bother me with her needs when I'm reading about how to love... oh... wait. So, yes, I'm prone to selfish "righteousness," and aware of it.
All the same, I don't think that's (entirely) what is going on here. At least, I'm putting forth effort not to let it become self-righteousness when I pray at set times. I'm conscious that it could be, and that I have to be careful.
But what my friends and I are really after is this—we want to take Paul seriously when he says, "Do not be conformed to this world,but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that by testing you may
discern what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and
perfect.Finally, brothers,
whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is
pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any
excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these
things. What you have learned and received and heard and seen in me—practice these things, and the God of peace will be with you."
Be transformed by the renewal of your mind. Think about these things. Practice these things.
The Bible is clear—what we think about, what we dwell on, makes a difference in how we are able to live. It also is clear from the Bible that we don't naturally dwell on Christ. ("And
this is the judgment: the light has come into the world, and people
loved the darkness rather than the light because their works were evil." John 3:19) So, if I want to be renewed the way Paul is talking about, I have to set my mind on Jesus, every day, purposefully.
(A very important sidenote here: I am right now talking about how the Christian grows in maturity, not how one becomes right with God. That is another matter entirely; it is only by faith that Jesus Christ has atoned for our sin and reconciled us to God through His righteousness that we are saved. I stand before God through faith alone, by grace alone; and I expect His grace will lead me home as well. I expect fully, however, that the manifestation of that grace will come in the form of deeper and deeper desire to live and practice the life that Jesus lays out in the Gospels and is commended in both the Old and New Testaments. So, please, let's be clear—no one is saved by trying hard to love God on their own. Drawing near to God apart from the saving work of Christ, can only be drawing near to judgment. But drawing near to God in Jesus Christ can only be a life stepping closer to a loving Father, Daddy, Abba.)
Back to the matter at hand—I think it's important to work into the fabric of my day constant reminders of God's grace in Jesus Christ, His love, and His will for me. I need to be thinking about Him more often than I am thinking of anything else. But that's not going to happen on accident, on its own. Even when I'm trying hard, it's easier to think of anything else.
Okay, okay—so, those of you who are Christians and have tried stuff like this are by now thinking, "Right, I've tried doing stuff like that, it doesn't work."
My question for all of us—myself included—is, have we really tried and found it not to work? Or, as Chesterton point out, is this life found too hard and left untried? Actually, more to the point—have we found that it doesn't work after two weeks, and given up?
If I have learned anything over the past years, it is that God often works slowly and that you can never, never tell what He is up to, really. When I pray and feel nothing, or attend a church service and go through the motions, I am tempted to give up. If I read the Bible for three days and don't feel like I've really seen God, I start to wonder if I should figure out a better way to spend my time. I expect that if something is going to work, it's going to work right away.
It's not just that I'm born in a generation that has everything in easy, convenient, immediate grasp. (I get annoyed when the iTunes Music Store doesn't post the new episode of Lost immediately.) That's part of it, but I think there's substantially more.
See, I'm afraid (and I think we all are) that if I read the Bible and feel nothing—or pray, and feel far from God—or worship, but feel hollow—that I am betraying the fact that I'm not really good enough for God. I have to feel something when I read the Bible, after three days in a row, or... what does that mean? What does it mean about me as a Christian?! It is easier not to ask, and to stop trying, than to face that emptiness.
But face that emptiness we must if we would follow Christ! If we are to die to ourselves, we have to first acknowledge that we do not love God enough, do not rejoice in His law enough, do not worship Him with all our hearts. And we have to set aside the results of our actions and trust only in the reconciliation attained for us by Jesus Christ.
I will not boast in anything,
no gifts, nor power, nor wisdom
But I shall boast in Jesus Christ,
His death and resurrection!
Why should I gain from this reward?
I cannot give an answer,
but this I know with all my heart—
His wounds have paid my ransom.
—Stuart Townend, "How Deep the Father's Love for Us"
You see, if I am going to grow at all, I have to be able to start out where I am. If I am to learn to love God, I have to be able to start acknowledging my lack of love for Him. And that is only possible if I trust that God accepts me not on the basis of my actions, but on the merit of Christ's righteousness. (This is why it is so important to distinguish our justification from our sanctification!) If I am going to practice the presence of God, I have to start aware of how little I actually care for His presence.
And then I have to say to myself, "Tough. You don't feel anything when you read the Bible? Tough luck for now! Because you will! And we're going to keep on until we do!" I have to acknowledge that when Paul says we should "renew our minds," this isn't an overnight thing. It is very, very longterm. And it is going to take some hard, hard work.
But the joyful news is, God is working more than I ever could to accomplish these things in me! "Therefore, my beloved, as you have always obeyed, so now, not only as
in my presence but much more in my absence, work out your own salvation
with fear and trembling, for it is God who works in you, both to will and to work for his good pleasure." (Phil 2:12-13) Do we have to work out our salvation? Yes. But is it God who accomplishes and promises all things? Yes!
"And I am sure of this, that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ." (Phil 1:6)
So, the point is this—I'm going to keep praying every day, not to earn God's favor, but trusting that I have been given his favor by grace alone, already. And I'm not going to kick myself if sometimes it seems empty. I'm not going to give the results any thought—that is, I'm going to trust God with them. Because I know that, if it's up to me, it's hopeless. I'm just going to be patient, and do what is in front of me.
And I'm going to trust that someday it will be seen that not a moment of "empty" prayer was wasted. I'll see that God was using every moment that I tried to pay attention to Him but "failed," that just because I sat and tried to read the Bible while my mind wandered every which way, I'll be able later to enjoy hearing Him speak to me.
I want to know the cumulative effect of living the way Jesus called us to live, everyday. Call it an experiment—I want to put His promises to the test. I want to try it, and see.
Because, you know what? The other ways of living life have already been tried. And I don't like where they end up. Read Hemingway. Read Beckett. Read Sartre. For that matter, read any contemporary author. Read Ecclessiates. I don't really think the world needs another test run to see where not obeying Jesus ends up.
But following Jesus has been tried, too. Read Augustine. Read the life of Jonathan Edwards. Read Brother Lawrence. Read John Piper. I like where they've ended up. I want to end up there, too.
So I'm just going to suck it up when my heart isn't where it should be. I'm going to suck it up, and keep going. Not because I'm great, or so wonderfully faithful. (Hah!) Nope, I'm a mess. But I have a deep conviction that these things—praying daily, reading my Bible daily, thinking purposefully about Jesus Christ, taking time to serve the needs of the poor, the needy, the outcast—are not a waste. And someday, if I'm patient, I think I'll actually delight in them for the right reasons. I think my heart will change, and I'll actually honor God instead of just wishing I did.
But that won't happen if I just sit here, wishing I did.
| | |
| Flannery O'Connor once wrote, "Smugness is the great Catholic sin."
I think you can say the same of Reformed Protestants, as well—we, too, are deeply smug. I have encountered this time and time again, but I have been (by choice) out of the Reformed loop for a few years now because I didn't want to become smug myself. While holding to my doctrinal convictions, I've let off listening to certain Reformed preachers who were developing in me some rather arrogant attitudes, and I think it's done some good (though I find more and more the depths of my arrogance - bred in me from birth by living in Silicon Valley, developed further by being "a good kid" and reading Pottery Barn catalogs).
Today I ran across a blog entry which dealt with celebrities purchasing "offsets" for CO2 emissions - which he likened to purchasing indulgences from John Tetzel (one great quote - "when a coin in the coffer rings, an oxegyn molecule to the atmosphere springs." That's funny). I responded (you can see my response at the link above)... but I somewhat doubt my main point will really be heard.
The main point I wanted to make there was not, "Celebrities aren't hypocritical." Or even, "Everyone who buys offsets has good intentions." The point was, instead, this -
Judge not, lest ye be judged.
I am so wary of Christians criticizing others' lives. It is so easy for us to point at celebrities and say, "What vain lives! If they really cared about the environment they'd sell their fancy cars and homes and live more simply!" Well, that may be true. But oh, we need to be careful—because the second we point the finger at the splinter in their eyes, the log in our own damns us.
Surely many celebrities are, indeed, vain. And surely, many are hypocritical. And, yes, much of the talk of global warming seems self-serving. Alright.
But have we forgotten that we are vain? That we are hypocritical? It seems ironic that anyone who sincerely believes Reformed doctrine—that is, that we are utterly depraved and sinful to the point of being dead, and evil to the point of being unable to choose God—would ever then turn around and criticize another human. Have we forgotten that, whatever sin they commit, we have done every bit as much evil ourselves?
There seems, to me, to be little room for Christians legitimately to speak of the faults of others. Anyway, what good can come of it? I would prefer that the author of the blog I ran across today enjoy the sweetness of speaking blessing into other people's lives - how good it would be for his spirit, and for ours!
I point these things out not to be critical of the blog author myself (haha! the hypocrisy is at home, too!), but because I want to clarify for myself and for those of you reading that it is far more important for us to put effort into loving one another than it is to articulate what others are doing wrong. There isn't time for that, and anyway, who are we to point fingers? We are sinners, too - saved by grace, yes, but no better than anyone.
I think Jesus intended us to focus on love, not criticism; certainly He who could have come in wrath came in grace and understanding, and that seems incomprably good.
(This entry is a copy of a second comment I left on the blog today.) | | |
| 4:1 Answer me when I call, O God of my righteousness!
You have given me relief when I was in distress.
Be gracious to me and hear my prayer!
2 O men, how long shall my honor be turned into shame?
How long will you love vain words and seek after lies? Selah
3 But know that the Lord has set apart the godly for himself;
the Lord hears when I call to him.
4 Be angry, and do not sin;
ponder in your own hearts on your beds, and be silent. Selah
5 Offer right sacrifices,
and put your trust in the Lord.
6 There are many who say, “Who will show us some good?
Lift up the light of your face upon us, O Lord!”
7 You have put more joy in my heart
than they have when their grain and wine abound.
8 In peace I will both lie down and sleep;
for you alone, O Lord, make me dwell in safety.
Psalm 4 has always seemed strange to me - as if David were randomly writing thoughts that had little to do with one another. Today, though, while preparing to teach on it, it struck me that this is a particularly well-crafted poem. It expresses the righteous man's response to a world with values turned upside-down—so much so that it despises the one who depends on God.
David begins with a prayer to God, and several times notes his utter dependence on God. First, even by asking God to answer and hear, he is admitting that God does not have to do so. Were God to ignore David, there would be no room for complaint. It is in utter humility that David approaches. Moreover it is without a shred of righteousness that he approaches; David calls God the "God of my righteousness"—already we see that the faith of the saints is not a faith in their works, but in God's free gift of justification and righteousness. David's faith is like Abraham's, who "believed, and it was counted to him as righteousness." (Romans 4) And, again, David confesses that, in past times of distress (for example, fleeing from Saul), it was God and God alone who gave relief. Peace and grace and righteousness belong only to God, and David knows it.
We see a picture of David as a man completely dependant, and not afraid to admit it. He is not standing free of any authority; he is not able to define himself however he wishes and most of all he is not able to find relief by his own efforts.
But then David says something that at first glance seems irrelevant, out of place - "O men, how long shall my honor be turned into shame?" We may be tempted to think that David is crying for help in verse 1 because of whatever it is shaming him in verse 2. (At some level this is true, but we need to see something else first.)
We have to ask ourselves, what is David's honor? For a man who has just confessed that he is essentially a child before God, does it make sense for him to turn around and complain that his honor is being shamed? Yes—if we understand him as meaning this: "My honor is that I depend on God! It is honorable and good and right to trust in Him! But, O, men of the world - you despise such dependance! You turn it into shame! You think it is wretched to be dependant, to need God! You would stand on your own two feet!"
And thus they love the vain words which stoke their egos, they seek after the lies of autonomy and self-sufficiency. Next to their "strength," David is made to look a fool. (In this sense, it does work to say that verse 1 is a cry for help in response to the situation of verse 2 - That is, "Hear my prayer and vindicate me - for my honor is to rest in you, and your glory is to show that my trust is well-placed and right.")
David responds with a reassertion of the truth - God has set apart the godly for Himself, and the LORD hears, whether the world believes He does or not. He will not be shaken from what he knows to be true.
All the same, it makes him angry. But, David writes to those who are also angered by the inverted values of the world, "Be angry and do not sin"—and in this context, not sinning looks like silence. "Ponder in your own hearts on your beds, and be silent. Offer right sacrifices, and trust in the Lord."
How should the Christian handle anger when the world calls dependance on God "shame" and autonomy "virtue?" In silence and in trust. David counsels, "You take care to trust in the Lord; He will take care of the rest. You be sure to focus on your own sacrifices for your own sins and let God handle other people's sins. You may be angered, and it is right to be angered by a blatant rejection of God's authority—but your anger does not give you the authority to accuse or chastise others for their sins." Instead we are to "ponder" these things, which is telling. We're not to simmer angrily over sin, but to consider it, look at it, understand it - I think, to understand where it lies in our own hearts and prevent ourselves from being beguiled by it. Ponder the sin of others in such a way that you yourself become repentant and look to your own "sacrifices" (which are NOT works but the confession that we need salvation; for us today in the Church, we do not offer sacrifices but we partake of Communion and we confess that apart from Christ we can never enter the presence of God - "Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner!").
David closes by stating the truth - though many stand "free" and look on trust in God as shame, these are they who in the end cry out, "Who will show us some good?" But for he who trusts, the light of the Lord's face is enough. It is more than all the "good" that is sought by men - wine and new grain. (Interestingly, these are the elements of Communion - wine and grain, or bread - and they do no good for those who do not trust. They may come in plenty but they are empty without a holy dependence on the Lord. Similarly it is not the act of taking the Eucharist that saves [this is true for both Catholic and Protestant conceptions of the Eucharist]; the grace we recieve through Holy Communion comes only through the faith in God, not the elements themselves [thus Paul can warn us of eating and drinking condemnation - taking Communion is harmful to those who take it without faith in the resurrection of Christ!])
In the final line, David reasserts his trust - he will allow himself to lie down and sleep in peace, FOR God makes him dwell in safety. In the end it is the one who knows the peace of Christ who can truly rest, truly be at peace. "Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts." (Col 3) Indeed, it is a discipline for David to lie down and sleep - to let the peace of Christ rule in his heart. It may be difficult for us to be at peace, but this is a symptom of the same inverted values that this psalm laments. If we trust God, then we must practice being at peace - we must choose to be at peace (this sounds strange, but it isn't so strange, really. One can choose not to be perturbed for all kinds of reasons - "this doesn't matter," "I didn't want that, anyway," "It's not worth getting upset over," etc.; David is merely saying that his reason for not getting upset is that he relies on God.)
This poem could not be more significant than it is today. We live in an autonomous world which is fleeing authority and God as fast as it can; but it will find no peace there. It will find plenty of wine and grain but no grace; the elements of blessing but only a hollow shell. The heart will be out of it, because the heart of it comes from the God who is "God of my righteousness," who forgives and sustains and hears and answers and gives relief. The honor of the Christian is today turned to shame, "But know that the LORD has set apart the godly for Himsef; the LORD hears when I call to him." | | |
|
