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Russell Wicke

The Old Testament Sword

It seems too many Christians think that God’s Old Testament Law is impossible to keep, and that is the reason (they presume) it has been made obsolete. The assumption is that keeping it perfectly would result in one’s salvation, and since no one can keep it perfectly, an alternative (Jesus) was needed instead.

I have argued earlier that God’s law is indeed possible to keep, and there are people on record (both Old and New Testaments) who have done it. Yet even the people who were blameless in the God’s Law still needed His salvation. So even though it is possible to perfectly keep the law (some have done it) it will not merit salvation. Roman’s 3:20a states that no human will be justified by the works of the God’s Law.

This begs the question: What then is the Law’s purpose? The answer is in the second part of the verse: so that we will have knowledge of our sin.

So I think the better the Law is kept, the more we become aware of how much we need to be saved from certain spiritual death. That is why those who keep it best are the most humble. The process of following God’s Law uncovers the heart’s corruption; it dispels Satan’s deception that being good is good enough. But observing the Law perfectly does not change a person’s sinful nature, and that is the “fault” (Heb. 8:7, ESV) in the Old Testament Law.

But when we come to see Jesus as see a man of pure heart, upright nobility and fierce love; when we come to see him as perfect King strong in arm, violent in conflict and gentle to faint hearted; when we come to see this man willingly stripped, tortured and executed so we can escape our fate; and when we hear that he resurrected from death – and believe it, this does change our nature. It creates in us a desire to know Him who would go to such length to be with us. It creates a reciprocal love in our heart, and a willingness to be different and new. It gives us the will to invite the Holy Spirit in so we can be changed and made new. It’s like the sulfur on the tip of a match that ignites a flame. While in the body our sinful nature will still remain, but it suffers a death sentence and we are given a new will to resist our carnal nature.

This is why it would be fatal to dismiss the Old Testament Law as obsolete. It is good for more than just teaching and learning. It acts as a sword that cuts into our conscience, making us painfully aware of our desperate condition and need of a savior. Without this conviction Jesus would be nothing more to us than a dying man. His resurrection would be dismissed as a fable.

Purgatory: A Likely Reality

I could a tale unfold whose lightest word
Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood,
Make thy two eyes like stars start from their spheres,
Thy knotty and combined locks to part,
And each particular hair to stand on end
Like quills upon the fretful porcupine. (Hamlet, 1.5.15-20)

These words come from Shakespeare’s play, Hamlet. The ghost of Hamlet’s father is here referring to his experience in Purgatory. I believe in Purgatory, but most Protestants dismiss it, I think, for two reasons:

1) Their idea of purgatory is a straw man. That is, they see it as a special holding place where Christians will be sufficiently punished for residual sin in their lives – perhaps any sin they failed to confess before dying.

2) They claim there is no scriptural support for it.

If Purgatory must be defined as Reason 1 above, then I also dismiss it. That is Purgatory’s straw man. But what if the purpose of purgatory was not punishment, but necessary adjustments of the soul (that happen to hurt)? We Christians all agree the Blood of Jesus cleans us. So why do we need to suffer when the Blood has done its work? Well, what if the application of the Blood is what hurts? What if the sinner, in his filthy state naturally experiences pain when he gets closer to a spotless and perfect God? This harmonizes with very many Christians' experiences on earth – we are even warned in the Bible that following Jesus results in suffering. C. S. Lewis, one of Christianity’s most celebrated apologists, believed there was a purgatory. He wrote:

Our souls demand Purgatory, don't they? Would it not break the heart if God said to us, "It is true, my son, that your breath smells and your rags drip with mud and slime, but we are charitable here and no one will upbraid you. Enter into the joy"? Should we not reply, "With submission, sir, and if there is no objection, I'd rather be cleaned first." "It may hurt, you know"--"Even so, sir." I assume that the process of purification will normally involve suffering. Partly from tradition; partly because most real good that has been done to me in this life has involved it. But I don't think suffering is the purpose of purgation. (Letters to Malcom, p. 108-109)

Grieving over his deceased wife, he also wrote:

They tell me H. is happy now . . . What makes them so sure of this? . . . why are they so sure that all anguish ends with death? 'Because she is in God's hands.' But if so, she was in God's hands all the time, and I have seen what they did to her here. Do they suddenly become gentler to us the moment we are out of the body? And if so, why? (A Grief Observed, p. 27)

I have not yet suffered in the way Lewis describes. But his logic for the purification process hurting is sound – and that would make purgatory a real thing. I’m convinced though, if it exists, it is not for punishment's sake – not for the purpose of giving us pain. Pain would only be a side effect of the greater purpose of purification.

As for the claim that there is no scriptural support for Purgatory, I disagree. Suffering is a major theme all throughout the NT. One could say there’s no scriptural backing that all these references to suffering for Christ are only in this life. People may say the word Purgatory is not found anywhere in the Bible. But neither is Trinity, and we Christians believe in that. As for the no-more-tears promise in Revelation 21, I would point out this is specifically referring to the new creation which is in the context of the last chapters of Revelation. This new creation contextually represents a time/place not yet achieved, even for the deceased.

Yes, I believe there is such a thing as Purgatory – but it’s not the kind of purgatory that all Protestants envision.

I see it more as a process than a holding place – a process that can begin here on earth and perhaps cease some time after death outside our natural bodies. And, I think God would be holding our hand through it too, almost like a parent sooths an infant getting vaccinated. I also imagine it would be different for every person. Here’s why I think that.

I’ve noticed that Christians who have suffered in the most awful ways seem to have a firmer faith -- a deeper relationship with God and greater joy than those of us who have suffered very little. I think their suffering has much to do with their spiritual maturity and advancement. I think suffering sharpens and refines, (at least in the old order). And God, I believe, has an idea of where he wants each of us to be spiritually. I believe some people get closer to that mark while here on earth than others. They learn through their suffering here, what others don’t learn before death. So perhaps, the purification process (what Protestants call sanctification, not to be confused with justification) is complete on the other side of death. This makes sense, since everyone agrees that no person reaches perfection in this life. Those who suffered more on earth would naturally have less “polishing” to undergo than say, someone who lived a posh, comfortable life, never being forced through pain to experience harsh realities and ask hard questions.

This idea of suffering after death doesn’t bother me at all because I think of people like Dietrich Bonheoffer -- a Christian who suffered the fate of European Jews during the Holocaust because he risked his life to save them. Because he suffered greatly, his reward must be great. I compare him, and other renowned martyrs, to myself and notice the obvious differences. I have never been physically persecuted for my belief, never had to wonder where my next meal will come from and never been without air conditioned housing. I realize this and I think, “I am missing out on some real life lessons that could be of great spiritual benefit.” But then, I’m still unwilling to thrust myself into a situation that would cause suffering. I don’t want to suffer, but when I see how it shapes other people, I do want the results. If intense suffering is what made Bonheoffer and other Saints into the spiritual giants they became, there is no reason to dismiss we all might experience our share of suffering to get there – whether that be on this side of death, or the other.

Tares and Wheat of the Heart

What does one do when, in the heart, vice and virtue share a common desire? – a desire that if fulfilled would result in someone else’s good, but may also secretly feed the ego and contribute to personal corruption? I suppose this sort of thing is common, yet unobserved, in many people. Over the years I have gradually become aware of it within myself, and I’m convinced this peculiar inner reality must be an old companion. I wonder if most people are like me; that is, assuming their own intentions are mostly good, and the desire to do something helpful springs chiefly from goodwill. But the human heart cannot be summed up by a cliché. There is no sleeve large enough to hold it. Instead, I am learning “The heart’s real intentions are like deep water” (Prov. 20:5). It takes an honest person to “draw out” the heart’s true motives, and my own careful introspection betrays a troubling inner reality: layers of contaminant line the bottom of my well. It settles there like sediment – long forgotten until I get bumped.

Recent events in my life have triggered this self-examination, namely a developing friendship. Through the gradual course of fellowship and conversation, my friend has learned that I am a Christian; I have learned he is a de facto pluralist. He is a skeptic, doubting that any of us can really know truth. Yet, I truly enjoy his company. The difficult situation in this case is that my ugly vice of pride along with my virtue of philia love both happen to have the same hope in mind for my new friend: that he would come to see Jesus as the Truth.

Here is how I see the vice. Much of the world’s agony can be attributed to man’s arrogance. There is a base pride people share that covertly wants other people to be like us, think like us, speak like us and looks like us. In its most potent form it consummates itself in the worst atrocities: prejudice, racism, even genocide. With most people I suppose it is kept in check by a desire to be civil and accepted. But even in the civil this vice apexes in the worst kind of attitude, an attitude that says: if you will not think like me then I reject you. This vice takes pleasure in pointing out someone else’s mistakes, or influencing a person to be more like us. There is an arrogance that thinks: if I correct him he is subordinated to me. It gives the accuser a false sense of power and security. Regretfully, I admit there is an ugly part of me like that because I feel these things at work in my own heart. I may be able to control my behavior, but I am bound to my human nature. There is a part of me that has used civility as a means to a wicked end, a part of me that wants my friend to be like me and think like me all for the wrong reasons. It is a part of me I loath – even though I know I share it with the rest of humanity.

But there is also a virtuous motive behind my hope for my friend. It doesn’t involve wanting him to be like me per se (it in fact celebrates his differences), but instead hopes for what is best for him. My reasoning starts with life’s fundamentals. First, I have observed that something has gone terribly wrong in this world. History and present-day circumstances give evidence that somehow what was meant to be straight has become severely crooked. There are global tragedies: slavery, human trafficking, murder, rape, and theft, just to name a few. Injustice abounds. Our vocabulary needs words like brutality, hypocrisy, greed, hatred, and cowardice because all those things exist. (These realities are unanimously recognized by all civilizations as bad.) Worst of all, I am confident that the thing that causes the bad, the thing gone wrong in the world, the thing that makes straight lines crooked, the thing that twists desires and corrupts beauty – that thing enters the world through me. My own worldview claims this corruption is in all people (Rom. 3:10-18), and I believe it because I experience it in my own heart. It’s discouraging to see the world as twisted and corrupt; but to see oneself as twisted and corrupt is outrageous. Even though I want to do what is right and beautiful, my corrupt nature works against that desire (Rom. 7:18).

So it comes to this: If I am to grieve over my own depravity, must not philia love lead me to grieve over corruption in others? especially those I care about? In fact, the virtuous part of me identifies with others so well that I come to see their sin and error as my own. When we accept all human corruption as a shared problem, we embrace a humility that prevents us from distinguishing someone else’s sin from our own. We will witness a crime and think mournfully, I’m capable of that. Therefore, if true love is in me, I will grieve when I see someone else’s offense just as I would grieve had I committed it myself. It’s not self-righteousness, but a love that wants to guard the innocence of a fellow human, just as I want to guard my own innocence. Therefore, when another man is guilty, I should see myself as guilty, (because without splitting hairs, I am).

This universal brokenness is evidence we desperately need help from outside this world. And, of all the holy men ever to walk on earth, Jesus is unique: he is the only one who claimed to come from the outside – the only one claiming to have a cure for what is wrong. And if he can help someone as messed up as me, I’m convinced he can help others. This is one reason why the virtuous side of me longs for my new friend to find sanctuary in Jesus. The familiar statement: “It doesn’t matter if it doesn’t hurt anybody else” is illogical. If I truly believe humanity to be on a self-destructive path, and Jesus holds the only lifeline, it would be selfish for me to be indifferent about how others think and act, even if it only hurts themselves.

So if my new friend were ever to truly know the joy of being embraced as an heir by a King, his happiness would be my happiness. My love and friendship are his without qualification. Yet nothing would delight me more than to see my friend experience a relationship with a Deity whose right hand holds “pleasures forevermore” (Psa. 16:11). I know these things are his to accept or reject. I admit it: my heart is “deceitful above all things and desperately sick” (Jer. 17:20) but one day it will be made straight. And that is my hope for my friend.

A Christian’s Place in Politics

It was Abraham Lincoln who claimed the Civil War was God’s judgment on America for its sins, namely the brutal enslavement of some 9 million Africans. No other American war was so bloody. Historians report more than 620,000 deaths in this one war – a death count so high that only the number of fatalities from all the other American wars combined rivals it. Even though only 1.5 percent of the population were actually slaveholders, all America was guilty. Lincoln’s hypothesis is consistent with God’s justice. For example, the entire nation of Israel was punished for Achan’s sin in Joshua 7. Likewise, God often held the entire nation of Israel accountable for the sins of its leadership. Ezekiel and Jeremiah are examples of righteous men who were exiled along with other Judeans for Judah’s national guilt. Yet these two men were not guilty of the apostasy that led to Judah’s exile. Although righteous men of the Old Testament didn’t favor the idea of exile, their allegiance to God gave them a zeal for justice over Israel’s prosperity (Hab. 1:3-4).

Where the Church Errs

It seems, however, among the American church many Christians are more concerned with their country’s prosperity than with the justice and glory of God. Much of the church has identified itself with the Republican Party because that happens to be the party with more conservative ideals. One problem with this is the church has made itself unapproachable to people who hold contrary political views. Another is that the church (by default) endorses unjust policies of Republicans. (It would be equal and opposite folly for the church to identify with Democrats.) For this reason, I’m convinced Christians should avoid being identified with a political party. Some Christians might argue Republicans are the lesser of two evils by claiming Democratic ideals contrast traditional conservative values. The Obama administration is an example, they would say. Here is an administration that supports abortion and gays marriage. It is also pushing a controversial health-care policy that might threaten the stability of the economy and potentially deny or delay certain kinds of care to elderly people. The Republicans believe these policies will damage America’s prosperity and leave our grandchildren to deal with the consequences -- the church jumps on board in opposition. Many Christians believe Obama's liberal policies will result in a less prosperous and morally inferior United States. They may or may not be right be right, but they have invested concern in the wrong place. I believe America’s prosperity has become an idol for many in the church and recommend a different approach to politics and national loyalty.

God Voted for Obama

Consider this: God appoints a nation’s leaders. Despite our popular vote, God ultimately claims control. In the words of Saint Paul, “Let every person be subject to the governing authorities. For there is no authority except from God, and those that exist have been instituted by God” (English Standard Version, Rom. 13:1). This is not an isolated idea in the Bible; Saint Peter also wrote, “Be subject for the Lord’s sake to every human institution, whether it be to the emperor as supreme, or to governors as sent by him to punish those who do evil and to praise those who do good” (1 Pet. 2:13-14). In plain words, this means God has appointed President Obama and Congress to represent America, and he expects Christians to honor them. It’s not as if God planned to put John McCain in office and the American people usurped his will with a vote. God “voted” for Obama, and that's what landed him in the Oval Office. With that we are to be subject to his policies.

Mercy in Ruin

I’m not claiming all authorities reflect God’s righteousness. There were 19 kings God appointed over Israel's Northern Kingdom and all of them were evil. (God often uses evil to bring about good for his glory.) Incidentally, the Northern Kingdom collapsed under the Assyrian army in 722 B.C., and Judah, who also harbored evil kings, was crushed under Babylon in 586 B.C. God had a calculated purpose for the exile of Israel. The whole world benefited. This is one reason why I’m convinced God is less concerned with a nation’s welfare than he his with the spiritual health of its people. All nations are temporal, but individual souls are eternal. The Bible claims that riches can frustrate spiritual progress. When it becomes a person’s ultimate goal to build wealth (a typical Republican idea), that person might find himself in direct opposition to God’s will.

Fear God. Honor the Emperor.

To be sure, there are biblical examples where resisting leadership is an obligation. These, however, are limited to situations where a leader commands an individual to commit a specific act of evil. This hardly applies to the masses in America. None of us will find ourselves being commanded by Obama to abort our children. Regarding America’s leaders, God’s expectations for the people are simple: obey the laws and be respectful. None of our laws command evil. Peter concludes the matter this way: “Fear God. Honor the emperor” (1 Pet. 17b). This doesn’t mean we are expected to endorse every policy, but obedience in quiet humility goes a long way.

Taxes Funding Abortion?

Some Christians will object, saying for example, if their tax dollars fund abortions it is tantamount to aiding and abetting. But whose money is it? The widely accepted idea is that taxes belong to the people and the government is only a steward. Jesus offered a different perspective when he said of taxes, “render to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s” (Matt. 22:21a). In other words, currency printed by government belongs to government. In context, this could mean all of one’s income belongs to their country. The money is not their own. Therefore, the Christian position should be that taxes never belonged to us anyway. Government officials will give an account to God on how they spend tax dollars, not the tax payers. The point is this: a submissive approach to government (regardless of the party in power) is expected of Christians. That attitude is what makes Christians beyond reproach.

Give to God the Things that are God's

Conversely, when a Christian devotes his life energy to a political cause, the implicit goal is usually to further the prosperity of the nation. (And that is best-case scenario; often people do it for personal gain.) A life commitment to a political party is dangerously close to idolatry. Jesus qualified his statement on paying taxes to Caesar by saying, “[give] to God the things that are God’s” (Matt. 22:21b). What then are the things we render to God? Well, Jesus’ justification for paying taxes was this: Caesar’s likeness is imprinted on the currency. Therefore, things that belong to God are things that have his likeness imprinted on them; namely, oneself. In the words of C. S. Lewis, “He who surrenders himself without reservation to the temporal claims of a nation, or party, or a class is rendering to Caesar that which, of all things, most emphatically belongs to God” (53). It is God who deserves our faithful service and undivided allegiance, not a political party. Neither the Democrats nor the Republicans should be given what belongs to God.

Disaster as a Doorway

So if, like in 1865, America’s destruction is necessary to bring about God’s justice and glory, then may every city be razed to the ground. I do not want to be misunderstood; America is my native land and I love my country and people. I want us to prosper. But my patriotism takes a decided back seat to God’s will – and he knows best. Perhaps hardship and widespread hunger is exactly what Americans need to be awakened from a greedy slumber. Perhaps he will use a leader as his rod. Perhaps that discipline would be a doorway to a better future for our children. Perhaps.

National calamity may or may not be God’s agenda for America; I hope it is not. But since we cannot know for sure what God is doing, our opposition to a political party should be limited to a vote. When leadership is appointed, the best thing a Christian can do is pray for just governing. But if that governing is unjust and results in disaster, so be it. That might be the very thing America needs.

On Personal Illusions and a Chisel

Five days had passed since my daughter was born, and her guts still hung out of her body like tangled rope from a spool. All of Chloe’s intestines were suspended above her in a plastic silo the size of a tube sock. Her four-pound frame lay naked under a heat lamp – aware, hungry, scared. Her infant face had the peculiar look of an older child and not a baby, because (I presume) it lacked the pudginess common to babies. Perhaps also, her trauma contributed to her mature-looking countenance. Her face was marked with what looked like years of hardship. It was stoic.

When my wife was fourteen weeks pregnant, the doctors told us what was wrong with Chloe. Our daughter had a condition called gastroschisis: a birth defect where the fetus’s skin fails to completely form over the bowel. One out of every 5,000 babies is born with gastroschisis, and Chloe won that lottery. “The good news,” said the surgeon “is that it is correctable. This surgery has a high success rate and most children born with gastroschisis recover and grow up like normal.” That was reassuring.

My wife and I spent the next few months learning all about this condition. We read about the surgical procedures, looked up success statistics, and viewed images and diagrams. We watched personal testimonies on YouTube from other families who experienced gastroschisis and we studied papers the doctors gave us. Since nearly all of the information suggested a low fatality rate and complications, we felt we were prepared for the challenge.

But nothing prepared us for what I was now struggling with: a personal, intimate witness of my own child’s suffering. For hours and days, I watched her bony hips writhe in discomfort and her hands expand and contract with tension. Her voice was faint, but the miserable squeaks she produced always raked my heart to ribbons. We were unable to console, comfort or even explain to her what was happening. Her suffering was great, and consequently, so was ours. All the favorable statistics, testimonies and pictures meant little to me as I watched my daughter struggle through her first five weeks of life. I thought I knew what gastroschisis was before she was born, but none of the facts or data could have taught me the experience I was enduring. For days I watched her twitch and recoil from human touch, gag over a tube that emptied bile from her stomach, and live off intravenous feedings. All this while her intestines were gradually pushed back in like toothpaste from a tube.

I was ungraceful in how I dealt with this. I became argumentative with my wife and my moods were always changing and extreme. One moment I was crimson with anger, the next I was despondent and depressed. It was the most I’d ever suffered.

I remember when I was a teenager having an acute fear of dying. At the age of 19, I became a Christian and quite suddenly, I no longer feared death. But whenever I became anxious about a circumstance or problem, fellow Christians would try to console me with a trite reminder. They would say, “We have nothing to worry about. We know how it all ends.” For a few years I grumbled a half-hearted response to this and felt guilty about my anxiety. As I became more honest with myself, I admitted openly there was little comfort in that promise – especially when there seemed to be a stretch of misery to endure until then. In defiance I let no one comfort me when I felt this way. “There are” I said, “no easy answers to suffering, and I resent all attempts to explain it.” Incidentally the issues I was dealing with then seem quite shallow to me now.

In my mid twenties I began to see a different angle of suffering, thanks to C. S. Lewis. In one of his books Lewis recorded his struggle over the death of his wife. He explained that his anger at God for his wife’s death was a painful realization that his prior convictions were merely a house of cards. In his reasoning he wrote, “I had been warned – I had warned myself – not to reckon on worldly happiness. We were even promised sufferings […] I’ve got nothing I hadn’t bargained for” (36). He admitted that his wife’s death didn’t change any of the universe’s current problems; worse things happened daily. Therefore, that foreknowledge begged the question: Why is my reaction to this tragedy a contrast to the rest of the world’s tragedies? His conclusion was that his convictions were like an imaginary rope he never had to trust with his life. The thing that would bring him to his senses was a situation that would force him to test out his supposed rope. He said, under the trial, he realized his rope didn’t bear his full weight.

This was my first step in realizing suffering just might have a beneficial purpose. Lewis wrote, “Nothing less will shake a man – or at any rate a man like me – out of his merely verbal thinking and his merely notional beliefs. He has to be knocked silly before he comes to his senses” (38). In other words, one can’t correct faulty thinking without first realizing it is has faults. After pondering these thoughts I still avoided suffering whenever possible (I still do). But perhaps there is something to be learned, particularly about oneself, in suffering. Even before Chloe was born I had the facts on gastroschisis. But those facts couldn’t reveal my own disagreeable temperaments. It doesn’t make suffering easier to know it may draw out my own vices, but I think the honest person will value progress and enlightenment more than comfort and illusion. Nothing, in fact, brings to light better what is truly in one’s heart than a trial. It seems people don’t even know themselves until they are tried and found wanting – and suddenly their own illusions about who they are must be faced.

Is personal progress then the meaning of suffering? I don’t presume to suggest such an easy answer to such a difficult enigma. But I don’t think it unreasonable to believe suffering might sometimes be a tool God uses on His people like a chisel. Most of us would admit there are some parts of our character that needs to go. Physical amputations and surgeries hurt – there’s no reason to doubt a spiritual parallel to amputation would feel any better.

Cited: C. S. Lewis. A Grief Observed.

Suffering in the Kingdom

Rejoicing and celebration are often thoughts that go along with the idea of the Kingdom of Heaven. There are devout Christians, however, who through their experiences have found God’s Kingdom to be the antithesis of jubilation. For example, C. S. Lewis argued, “If God’s goodness is inconsistent with hurting us, then either God is not good or there is no God … If it is consistent with hurting us, then He may hurt us after death as unendurably as before it” (27-28).

In order to make sense of this, the biblical idea of human nature must be taken into consideration. And that is all people, every man, woman and child, are inclined toward evil and in resistance of God (Eph. 2:3). So then, the natural state of man is to resist God. If left alone, we would naturally want nothing to do with Him. In our rebellious state, God can offer us nothing we desire. Heaven would be of no value to us because the natural order of business there involves something other than the self as the center. Since true joy is found outside the self, the nature of a person needs an overhaul before it can desire Heaven. And, just as no plant can uproot itself, no person can change the self in this way. This overhaul requires God’s intervention.

But, just as most theologians would argue, this intervention does not happen at death; it happens while we occupy this husk, this body of dust. And just like any surgery on the body (that is, something outside cutting in), there is a fair amount of pain and grief involved in the soul with the spiritual equivalent of surgery. This correction is painful. It is required becaue our hearts are out of order.

This suffering for having a heart out of order, though unpleasant, is actually desirable for the regenerated Christian. Though Christians still experience sinful inclinations, their chief (new) desire is supernatural; that is, to be in relationship with their King. It isn’t heaven that a Christian yearns for. It is a person, a relationship, namely Jesus. A good example comes from the Antebellum Puritan Anne Bradstreet. She wrote, “I have thought if the Lord would but lift up the light of His countenance upon me, although he ground me to powder, it would be but light to me, it would be heaven.” So I submit it is better to have oneself derailed and suffering, than to continue in ignorant bliss down a track that ultimately leads a person from his true Love.

Christian thinkers often argue it is the presence of the Creator that makes heaven a desired place, and not the riches there. That is, were Jesus absent, a soul would feel the misery of hell. This is what Bradstreet explicitly claimed when she wrote, “could I have been in heaven without the love of God, it would have been a hell to me, for in truth it is the absence and presence of God that makes heaven or hell.” This seems accurate when considering the chief aim of the regenerated Christian is not a location, but Jesus himself. Everyone experiences this in their relationships. It is often relationships that make material objects and places enjoyable and meaningful. It is one’s relationships with other people that make certain geographic places vibrant and heavenly, and not those places in and of themselves. When I think back on a place in this world with nostalgia, it is usually a place where I shared a special time with another person, my mother, my friends, and my wife. To go back to that place, by myself, would not bring back the joy. The place represents the joy of the relationships.

This mindset, then, when followed to its logical end will conclude that heaven is not the chief desire of the Christian. Heaven is certainly not limited to the New Creation state, foreseen in the Bible, that lacks pain, sorrow and tears, (Revelation 21). If heaven is truly defined for the Christian as the presence of God, then one surely can have attained heaven in this life, amidst trials, suffering and death. That is because Jesus claims to be with his people on earth, and more literally, the Holy Spirit is in them. Jesus implicitly claimed wherever he is, there is the kingdom of heaven, (Matt. 10:7). And, as long as a Christian is in his present condition, (that is, with imperfection, sinful impulses and wanton desires,) being in the kingdom will result in suffering. That is because imperfections result in conflicts with God and He will work on a person until all imperfections are chiseled out. Or, as Lewis put it, a person must be “knocked silly before he comes to his senses” (38). And even then, no person reaches perfection before death; every person is a work in progress.

Therefore, to be a child of God means to suffer, because the sinful condition has corrupted the soul. And, since a state of corruption is disagreeable to one who yearns for righteousness, the painful discipline of God becomes an asset. It makes a person better, even in this life. In another book, Lewis argued the same point from personal experience: “most real good that has been done me in this life has involved [suffering].”

And, since Jesus is the one directly involved in the sinner’s purification, being in the Kingdom of Heaven (albeit, in a pre-New Creation state) involves abundant suffering – it, in fact, demands it.

Note: C. S. Lewis quotations came from Letters to Malcom and A Grief Observed.

Good News

This is still the best news we could ever hope for.

Although each person’s idea of proper behavior may vary a little, we all share two things in common. 1) All reasonable people agree good attributes include selflessness, love, humility, justice and courage – all agree their antonyms, such as selfishness, prejudice, arrogance, injustice and cowardice are bad; and 2) on a regular basis every person fails at certain points to live up to the standards they intuitively know to be right. In other words, no reasonable person claims to be perfect – even by their own standards.

Now, there is a God who made the universe and all creatures, including us. In Him we live and move and have our being – and this is where our intuition of morality and right and wrong come from. But in the course of human events we have developed in ourselves the instinct to rebel and seek our independence from Him. We are designed to be with Him, but perfection is a prerequisite.

However, because God loves us, and because he knows our happiness can only be in Him, he seeks each of us out. He pursues us. Being God’s offspring, he calls all people everywhere to stop where they are, and turn back on a path toward Him, and away from self. In fact, He has set a day on which he will call everyone into account for their conduct, judging fairly and impartially.

He will do this with a man who He has appointed – and this man is unmistakable because, as a sign to humanity, God raised him from the dead. There is convincing historical evidence of this.

This man is Jesus the first-century Jew. His life, death and resurrection were foretold hundreds of years before it happened in numerous ways and places.

Those who look into these things, and – based on their findings – put their trust in Jesus, will not be held accountable for their offenses. Jesus’ suffering and death is sufficient propitiation to win us back, because he was without fault, but willingly paid our debt by enduring God’s wrath.

An open door back to our creator is certainly good news – especially when we realize it is we who shut the door. But Jesus opened it back up.

These things are worth looking into. The claims of Jesus are too bold to ignore: “I am perfect.” – “I am God’s only son.” – “I am your only hope.” – “I have swallowed up death.” – “I AM The Way, The Truth, The Life.”

If he was wrong, it is worth debunking, and his words are those of a lunatic. But, if he is right – it changes your life.

(Image: photo of a portion of Jerusalem's Western Wall of the first-century Temple mount. It is the place where Jesus came to teach. It still stands today. In the cracks of the stones are letters, written to God.)

Standard of Cleanliness in a Personal Anecdote

Projectile vomiting is not a sport.

But if it were, my infant daughter would be among the elite.

Chloe suffers from chronic stomach pain because of a repairable condition she had called gastroschisis. She was born with her intestines outside her body, resulting in her noteworthy ability to propel stomach content at great distances. It is extraordinary to behold.

This is why my wife, Kyoung, and I call Chloe a two-person baby. Feeding her can be a complicated event for us, and a painful affair for her. So, when I’m home, I try to be as helpful as I can when it comes to her feedings. Recently after breastfeeding Chloe, Kyoung handed her to me for burping. It was during this time the following scene unfolded.

After 20 minutes of back-patting, (and without warning,) Chloe’s mouth erupted with jiggling curds of sour milk. She apparently wanted to share her meal. It soiled my arms and legs, as well as the folds of her neck, her chest, her shirt and blanket. Kyoung was almost hit from across the room.

This time the volume of milk was impressive. I estimated she tapped as far back as nine feet into her small intestine. The mess would take a while to clean up, so I quickly wiped her down and gave her back to Kyoung to feed again. I worked on the carpet. Cleaning Chloe herself had to wait until she was full, because a hungry baby is difficult to deal with. I planned to change her shirt and blanket and wipe her down with a warm rag, (she just had a bath).

So, she ate again and Kyoung gave her back to me for re-burping. After a few minutes she produced a dry (thankless) burp and I began the laborious process of changing her shirt and diaper. I say “laborious” because she has a low tolerance for being touched in any way unrelated to affection, (an unfortunate result of five weeks of pokes, prods, surgeries and shots). So, changing her clothes makes her cry, and this time was no exception. But the true lamenting didn't occur until I began wiping her face, neck and chest with a warm, wet cloth. (I had to; she smelled like sour milk and stomach bile.)

Despite her protesting with what I call her propeller arms and piston legs, I finally got a clean shirt back on and wrapped her in a fresh blanket to warm her up. At this point I was not in her favor. No sooner did I get her calmed down did she make a calculated statement about how she felt about me. She looked right at me with a sort of infant defiance, and calmly vomited again, in a controlled and measured manner. It was as if she was saying, "Take this dad. This is for rubbing me with that awful wet rag."

So I had to go through the whole ordeal of changing and cleaning her again. She protested and gasped, and lathered herself up in a furious little mood. That is the thanks I get for maintaining a standard of cleanliness.

She's going to hear all about this when she is older.

The Forsaken Jesus: What does he mean when asking God why?

At the moment before Jesus' death he asks a troubling question: "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" (Matt. 27:46, Mark 15:34). When Jesus makes a peculiar statement like this, he just might be saying much more than we first realize.

Did God forsake Jesus? Or is Jesus calling our attention to Psalm 22? His Jewish contemporaries would likely have had it memorized:

The Enemy: Parable or Personal?

Is Satan real, or only a fable?

In some Christian circles people will argue Satan is a fable, or merely an abstract force of evil personified in the imaginations of people who need someone to blame (other than God).

Some people reject the idea of Satan because the way he’s been caricatured in the West. Believing in a red-tailed, hoofed and horned boogieman, such as Gary Larson, portrays Satan as, is beneath most adults. And for good reason. But dismissing the caricature should not lead to dismissing the real thing.

Since Satan makes very few appearances in the Old Testament, some people argue the Jews adopted the idea of Satan through Persian and Greek influences over time. They will say that by the first century the erroneous idea of Satan had snuck its way in among the Jews. But this is no sound evidence to dismiss Satan as real. There are multiple possibilities explaining his few cameos in the OT – I’ll list three: 



1) The role of Satan had little to do with the communication goal of the OT – that is the rebellion of humanity (where he is mentioned in Gen. 3), the establishment of Israel as a theocracy, the need of an established sacrificial system to shadow the mission of Jesus and Israel’s rebellion (representing Adam and all of humanity). 



2) The reality of Satan may have been gradually revealed by God to the Jews. We get a very narrow picture of Satan in Eden from Genesis 3 and not much after that in the OT. But as time went by, God could have revealed more and more through the Holy Spirit to the Jews. This wouldn’t be the only time God gradually gave the Jews more knowledge about spiritual things as centuries passed. C. S. Lewis (in his book Surprised By Joy) pointed out that God gradually introduced the idea of an afterlife and heaven to Jews. He revealed only Himself first. Until a certain time the Jews believed only in earthly existence and had an idea of retributive justice (do good, you will prosper; do evil, you will suffer). The Sadducees took this line. He may have gradually revealed Satan’s role as well.



and



3) God could have introduced an accurate idea of Satan through pagan influences and revelation. God is known in the Bible to reveal special knowledge to Gentiles too. Melchizedek, Pharaoh, the Persian king, the wise men of Matthew and Cornelius are examples.

Christians who think Jews and early Christians erroneously adopted the idea of Satan must be prepared to accuse all the authors of the New Testament (plus Jesus), of this error. They all describe (or imply) Satan as a personal being who is leading an insurrection against God. (A few examples include all accounts of Jesus temptation, Mark 3:26, Acts 26:18, Rom. 16:20, 2 Cor. 2:11, 1 Pet. 5:8, and 1 John 5:19.) If God really is omnipotent, (and Satan a fable) God would have found a way to accurately communicate the truth in His inspired Word. Plus, NT authors were closer to Jewish antiquity than any of us are and had access to better historical documents that we do. Additionally, Luke and Paul were highly educated men and they along with all NT authors were capable thinkers. To assume they got it wrong and we got it right is an example of what C. S. Lewis calls chronological snobbery; that the philosophy, ideas or worldview of an earlier time are inherently inferior when compared to that of contemporary thinkers.



Christians who accept Satan as fictitious will have a hard time accepting the Bible as the inspired word of God (verbal plenary inspiration), as it claims itself to be. If Christians suppose the authors of the Bible were wrong on this account, how can they be sure NT authors are credible in other areas? If I were to be convinced Satan himself were merely a fable, (and I was honest about it), I could no longer call myself a Christian; the Bible would be nothing more than a set of errant historical documents. 



I suggest if we take away the belief of a powerful, personal, corrupt being who rebelled against God and has an agenda to influence and deceive mankind, we are putting people in a very dangerous position. The Bible commits a moderate amount of text to warning people about Satan and his schemes. If we dismiss Satan, we are not likely to take these warnings seriously – and the warnings are there for a reason.

Introspection: A convincing apologetic

A Christian need not be a well-read scholar to justify his faith. Although there is plenty of evidence supporting theism, the Bible, and historicity of Jesus, one need not be familiar with that evidence to honestly and rightly conclude Christianity is The Way.

Take the following example:

The most targeted area of attack on Christianity is the creation account in the book of Genesis. As many Christians will agree, it seems too elementary and mythological. How could the heavens and earth and all its creatures have been created in seven days? Why does modern archeology suggest the earth is so much older than what the Bible seems to suggest? What of the dinosaurs? Where did they come in? If the Bible is truly God’s inspired Word (Verbal Plenary Inspiration) why does it seem to contradict what modern science has hypothesized?

First, allow me to propose there are many scholarly and Biblical answers to these questions – that’s where good Christian apologetics come it. But one need not look at all the external and scholarly sources to draw a logical conclusion in favor of Christianity. There are plenty of theories in harmony with Genesis 1-2 that explain reasonable possibilities. For example, it is important to know that the thesis of Genesis is not to provide a scientific answer to man’s origins. This was not God’s purpose in providing the Genesis account. God did not aim to scratch the intellectual itch of all the skeptics by answering how the universe was made, and how long it took. Were this His purpose, I suppose we would have gotten way more than what we bargain for. Instead, His purpose was two-fold: (a) to introduce himself as the One supreme creator, and (b) to wake up humanity to its spiritual ruin based on the fall of its first parents. Details and time of creation are not the point of Genesis or the Bible. The point is our redemption.

But knowing things like this isn’t what inclined me to trust the Bible. When I came to believe, I did not first look at all the academic evidence before believing, (and there is sufficient evidence). I did not consider things like the dinosaurs. But even if I had looked at all the arguments against the truth of Christianity without knowing favorable arguments, it would not have altered my course (1). I did not need the secondary source of authority when I had the primary source of experience. And this experience I’m talking about is accessible to every person – namely, the fact that something is obviously wrong in oneself and the world.

Here’s what I mean. All of us (at an early age) come to find the world is not always a just and morally fair place. We find there are people who will steal from others; there are those who hate and murder based on ethnicity; spouses commit adultery; women, and even men are raped; and we find genocide in our history books, (and many find themselves the victim of these things). So we all come to the simple conclusion, based on first-hand experience, that something is not right, not just. As many apologists will point out, we get this idea of justice and morality from an authority above man, namely God. Were naturalism true, Christians argue there would be no moral instinct and no impulse to label some things as honorable (such as charity) and other things as despicable (such as avariciousness). After all, aren’t we all appealing to a higher standard when we say, “that’s not fair”? Who determines what is right and wrong if not God? And where did we get the instinct if he did not put it in our hearts? If this realization were enough to convince a person to believe in God (and ultimately Jesus,) then nearly everyone would be a theist. It took a step further to convince me. It took self-examination.

Any person who will look honestly at his own heart will find there is something seriously wrong on the inside. Any honest man will admit he has frequently violated the standard of conduct he expects from other people. The alcoholic knows his drinking is harmful, but continues to do it; the thief will protest when he himself is stolen from; the unfaithful husband does not like to find his wife being had by another man; the liar wants the truth from others. These are simple examples, but the human heart is very complicated and every person is guilty of failing to be what they themselves believe is right and good. C. S. Lewis put it best: “All men alike stand condemned, not by alien codes of ethics, but by their own, and all men therefore are conscious of guilt” (2).

This is what brought me to my knees in horror and disgust. After wondering for years why there is so much madness, pain and injustice in this world, a look inside at my own heart revealed the very problem was inside me. I could no longer smugly point out the evils of this world without introspection revealing myself to be one of the culprits. When one looks in the mirror and sees a loathsome mess, despair is a common reaction. Who wants to be foul? An even further discouragement was a realization I was helpless to change. Many a religious person has attempted, through personal effort, to bring about an internal change only to make a devil of himself with hypocrisy. You can clean the junk out of a river, but if that junk is welling up from the source, it will ever be dirty.

But I looked into my heart and found ugliness and corruption there; and further, I found no effort of my own would change it. So what if behavior can be altered – when the source is contaminated, no man (save One) can change it, because it would require a new source. A plant cannot uproot itself – something outside the plant must do the uprooting. When I realized this about myself, I found no other religion offered a satisfactory answer to the problem. Hinduism claims sin comes from ignorance and we must simply become enlightened. Buddhism claims the problem is desire, and we must starve our desire to be happy. Islam agrees with Christianity about sin, but in Islam, one must do penance – no substitute or regeneration is offered. These three major religions basically expect the plant to uproot and replant itself in “good” soil – and this is impossible. Only the Judeo-Christian position provides a way for a person to be properly reunited with its creator; because we need something on the outside to come in and wrench the source of evil (our hearts) out of us. Only the heart’s maker can change the heart. Only something higher and uncreated can suck the poison out of a man’s heart, and even then, the act is a thing that kills. Ripping the root of evil from a heart tears it asunder and kills the man. That is why only God can do it – because it requires one to be brought back to life again to make it through the ordeal. Thus, it is a miserable affair, but a necessary one. As Tozer put it, “The ancient curse … must be extracted in agony and blood like a tooth from a jaw. … There must be a work of God in destruction before we are free. We must invite the cross to do its deadly work within us” (3)

This is why no amount of rhetoric and evidence will convince a man to follow Christ. If God doesn’t do the calling (John 6:44), all one can do is alter a little behavior, but the heart continues to produce rubbish. This is also why a man (like myself) can come to trust and believe without studying all the academic and historical evidence and theories. Although sufficient evidence to believe is there, that is not what causes people to trust. The heart is “deceitful above all things and desperately sick” (Jer. 17:9, ESV). A deceitful heart can and does tamper with evidence and draws convenient conclusions.

Redemption begins when the man recognizes the wretched condition of his heart and becomes undone by it. From the man’s perspective, to see the world as twisted and corrupt is troubling and discouraging; but, to see oneself as twisted and corrupt, this is unacceptable. He laments, “Something must be done!” This bad news is what makes the Good News of salvation so appealing. Jesus, the God Man, is the only person or thing that offers what we need. No other religious figure claimed to be without sin, and offered himself for the debt. No other religious figure literally resurrected from the dead in accordance with historical records. No other religion provides a thorough cleansing as a free and unearned gift.

When a man sees the corruption in his own heart, he needs no other proof that something has gone wrong. He sees himself as he knows he ought not be – as he want not be. The foul condition suggests a deviation from a proper condition – and only one Man offers a realistic restoration. When a person comes to this realization, Jesus is standing – waiting for the invitation to come in and do the deadly work – to crucify the heart. Only then will the painful process of regeneration begin. Although it is done for us (we don’t lift a finger,) it is frightening. It is so painful, I find myself praying, “God be gentle,” but the desire to be free from the filth is cause for the deeper petition, “but be thorough.”

1. Jesus is powerful and unrelenting when he calls someone. In John 12:32 he says he draws men to himself. One friend of mine who is an accomplished scholar told me the Greek word used for “draw” in that verse could also be translated “drag.”

2. Lewis, C. S. (1980). Mere Christianity.

3. Tozer, A. W. (1982). The pursuit of God. pp 29 & 43.

Strength Concealed by Weakness

Divine humility is a term created by C. S. Lewis when he could find no other words to express his experience with a God so massive, so powerful, yet who approaches humanity with modesty and gentleness. Allow me to juxtapose these two qualities: God opened his mouth and spoke the universe into existence. We don’t yet know the full size because we have never seen the end of it. So what we can see is what astronomers call the “Observable Universe.” The observable universe is so massive there’s nothing in our language that can summon the proper perspective, so we’ll deal with our galaxy, the Milky Way.

This image is an artist's rendering of our galaxy. It consists of more than 200 billion stars; and by conservative estimates our galaxy is about 100,000 light years in diameter. Let’s unpack this: Light travels more than 185,000 miles every second. A light year is the distance it would take an object to travel at light-speed for a whole year. So, if a person were to travel at 185,000 miles per second for 100,000 years, they might be able traverse the length of our galaxy. Okay, perhaps that’s a bit too long for us. Our galaxy is disk shaped, like Frisbee, so we might choose instead to pass through the width – that would only take 1,000 light years. In fact, if we were to scale our galaxy down to the size of one hundred miles in diameter, our solar system would be less than one millimeter in size.

In case this galaxy is too small for you to stretch your limbs, God has prepared extra space for us beyond our galaxy. In fact, astronomers confirm there are more than 80 billion other galaxies in the observable universe – this is just what we can see. And, that is not stars we’re dealing with mind you, but galaxies. The number of stars in the observable universe is uncountable, but astronomers estimate somewhere between 30 and 70 sextillion. That is 10 followed by 51 zeros times 45. According to Isaiah 40:26, God has a name for each one and calls them out by ranks.

The universe is only one example we can use to behold God’s greatness. We could have gone the other direction into, say, DNA and the billions of characters of organized code in only one strand. Suffice it to say, God is unfathomably awesome.

If we left our understanding of God at this, we couldn’t possibly find anything modest or meek about him. But Lewis experienced another side of God that leaves us breathless. By virtue of this unfathomable greatness, God is the one and only being that need not bother with anything or anyone. He has no need of anything. He is justified to do away with any creation that would dare to ignore or dismiss him. He is Mighty with a capital “M” and deserves all honor and respect. But this isn’t how he does business, and that is where the “Divine humility” comes in. He endures our insults and dismissals. As Lewis (1940) put it,

… it is a poor thing to strike our colours to God when the ship is going down under us; a poor thing to come to Him as a last resort, to offer up ‘our own’ when it is no longer worth keeping. If God were proud He would hardly have us on such terms: but He is not proud, He stoops to conquer, He will have us even though we have shown that we prefer everything else to Him, and come to Him because there is ‘nothing better’ now to be had. … It is hardly complimentary to God that we should choose Him as an alternative to Hell: yet even this he accepts. (p. 95-96)

What is it about God that motivates him to take such a humble approach toward us? This divine yet humble nature seems paradoxical, but it is very true to the Biblical concept of God’s character. John Milton must have had this Divine humility in mind when, in his Epic, Paradise Lost, he postulated the reason Satan had the audacity to strike a rebellion against the King of kings. Satan says, “but still [God’s] strength concealed/ Which tempted our attempt, and wrought our fall” (1.641-42). In other words, Satan miscalculated the strength of God because of His Divine humility, and felt it was possible to usurp the throne.

Perhaps this is why God hates arrogance – it is so unlike Himself. The Bible is clear God aims to make us more like Him. Thus we find ourselves encouraged to place ourselves last, sit in the lesser seat, be the servant, and consider others more significant than ourselves. I’m not saying he wants us to be self-defacing; but a healthy dose of self-forgetfulness would do us all good. For those of us who don’t get this, who persistently kick against the goads, God has, in His grace, provided a thorn. He would have us be great like Him, but the path to that greatness is through a weakness. This is why God afflicted Saint Paul with a "messenger of Satan to torment him" (2 Cor. 12:7), and why he chooses the “foolish in the world to shame the wise” and “what is weak in the world to shame the strong” (1 Cor. 1:27).

The man C. S. Lewis (1954) himself is a profound modern-day example. This man is arguably the most influential Christian writer of the twentieth century. He propped up the failing hearts of the Englishmen while their island was bombed in World War II, he wrote potent and effective books on Christian apologetics, he cleverly countered atheistic attacks on Christian faith, he produced insightful allegories in his series The Chronicles of Narnia, among other fiction, and he wrote numerous academic essays. Almost fifty years after his death he is probably the most-quoted Christian author, period.

But his impact on the Church was a result of a physical handicap. He was born with only a single joint in both thumbs, limiting his ability to work with his hands. This was cause for serious dismay and disappointment because he “longed to make things, ships, houses, engines” (p. 10). After repeated effort at creating and building, he admits turning from his “failures” in tears. It was “As a last resort ... I was driven to write stories instead” (p. 10, emphasis mine).

What path would his life have taken if God had given him normal joints like everyone else? The world would have lost out on his writing and reasoning and encouragement. Lewis displayed the wonder and wisdom of God in his writings. No doubt he prayed as a child for an operating pair of opposable thumbs! But God denied him this gift, and as a result he was driven to write! What he first saw as an affliction, and a serious weakness, God used for his greatest strength. This made Lewis' life a great example of what Jesus teaches: “My power is made perfect in weakness” (2 Cor. 12:9).

Let this be a reminder for you and me, that when failure is lodged in our path, when we find our abilities severely limited and wanting, it just may be those very weaknesses that God will use to display His might and glory through us. For God wields great and awesome power, but he conceals it with weakness. How much more would He have his children be that way as well?

References:

Lewis, C. S. (1940). The problem of pain. New York: HarperCollins.

Lewis, C. S. (1955). Surprised by joy. Orlando, FL: Harcourt

Milton, J. (2000). Paradise Lost. London: Penguin

The Reed and the Oak

There is a Jewish parable that dates back to the first century called the Reed and the Oak. In this parable, a thin reed and a giant oak tree grew up along side each other near a river.

Throughout their life span they each encountered the same weather conditions – but each responded differently to the same types of weather. As wind picked up and blew, the reed would bend and sway in response to the wind; but the oak remained erect and upright because of its great strength and deep roots.

During the course of time a great and horrible storm came upon the land. The gale-force winds were so strong, and the oak so resistant to its influence, that it was uprooted and blown over. The reed, however, survived because it bent down low to the ground, compromising its upright posture. Yet, because the reed was willing to go very low it survived. And because the oak would not budge, it was blown over. Dr. Moseley explained the moral of the parable: “There was nothing wish-washy or compromising about the oak. The reed on the other hand, would bend to the right or left, even with a slight breeze” (p. 23).

You see, the oak lost its life by refusing to compromise, but the reed could only save itself by continually bending to the will of the wind. First century Jews likely knew this parable well. Knowing it ourselves, we get a better understand of what Jesus meant when he said this about John the Baptizer: “What did you go out into the wilderness to see? A Reed shaken by the wind?” (Matt. 11:7) the implied answer is “No! an oak!”

Jesus said this right after John sent a message to him from prison. By disassociating John with the reed, Jesus was comparing John to the oak in the parable. This statement was a tacit prediction of John’s upcoming death. John was strong, uncompromising with his faith, and his roots went deep. Therefore, when the horrible storm came, he would not bend as a reed, and as a result he would lose his life.

The lesson we take away from this is repeated elsewhere by Jesus in different words. If you are to be righteous, if you are to be a follower of Jesus, you must be prepared to lay down your life for the cause, because in many ways, that path requires us to be uncompromising to the world and its influences.

The idea is this: it is better to be an oak and lose one’s life, than to be a weak, and bending reed, and save it.

Reference:

Dr. Moseley, Ron. Yeshua; A Guide to the Real Jesus and the Original Church. Baltimore, MD: Lederer, 1996.

Some Reasoning for Only One Way

One of the most common objections to our faith is the exclusiveness of Jesus. Skeptics will ask, “How can God be fair, making Jesus the only way to the Kingdom, when millions of people have lived and died without ever hearing of him?”

Without ever looking deep enough, people often reject Jesus as the only way to God, preferring to accept a pantheistic approach (many roads, one destination), because it seems more agreeable to them. They will call you closed minded and write you off as a shallow thinker. Be assured, however, there is good and diverse rationale, (that doesn’t nullify God’s justice) to the exclusivity of Jesus.

First none of us deserve to be saved. Humanity is broken and fallen. We have each rejected God and he would be fair and just in leaving us to our own vices. When we adjust our perspective this way, we understand there is tremendous grace in the fact that there is even one way back to him. It is a very ugly thing to be a criminal, and when offered an opportunity for acquittal, to sniff at it and respond, “This can’t be the only way.”

But why offer some people a chance to God and not others? If we ask this question we are limiting God – how can we know this is the case just because some people die without ever (allegedly) hearing the name of Jesus? God’s message of salvation is not limited to the single vehicle of human evangelism, (although he has made it clear it is to be the primary platform for the Good News). Jesus broke through directly to Saint Paul whose salvation came as a result from his message (Gal. 1:12). There are other places in the Bible where God spoke directly to Jews and pagans through visions, dreams, and even angels. Examples are Abimelech, Pharaoh and Balaam, not to mention the prophets. This is called the Universal Opportunity view. It rightly holds that God can save who he wants, when he wants, with or without our help. I’ve heard it put it this way: “The only thing that can thwart the desire of the omnipotent Creator to save all people, is their own unwillingness to be saved” (Boyd & Eddy 183). And I would even add that God could break through our unwillingness if he so desired. Jesus makes it clear that God chooses us and draws us to him – we don’t choose him (John 12:32, 15:16, Rom. 9:16).

Even if some people never get a chance to hear the salvation message we cannot call an all-knowing God unjust. Wouldn’t our God know if someone would respond to a message if they heard it? C. S. Lewis profoundly wrote, “I believe that if a million chances were likely to do good, they would be given … Finality must come some time, and it does not require a very robust faith to believe that omniscience knows when” (126). Those who would not respond to God remain in objection to him, whether they have had a million chances or zero – they remain who they are. The peculiar thing about those who are perishing is not their ignorance of God, but their ability to block him out of their lives. This is why Lewis said he believes “the damned are, in one sense, successful rebels to the end; that the doors of hell are locked on the inside” (130).

Another position is the Inclusivist View, which claims that Jesus is ontologically necessary for salvation, but not epistemologically necessary, (that is, Jesus is the only savior of humanity, but it is possible to attain salvation without explicit knowledge of him. It could mean people will be judged by how they respond to the limited truth they have, not the information they don’t have). This would account for all the people before Christ came, infant deaths, and people with mental disabilities. We see biblical support for this where Jesus welcomes those into the kingdom who did not recall, feeding him visiting him in prison, etc. (Matt. 25:36-40). Paul also wrote, “… we have our hope set on the living God, who is the savior of all people, especially those who believe” (1 Tim. 4:10). This implies God can save some of those who did not have a chance to believe.

For this reason, it would not surprise me to find some people in heaven who, although never heard Jesus’ name on earth, are perplexed to find they got there by the cover of his blood, without knowing the blood was at work in their life. This very thing happens in Lewis’s allegory called, The Last Battle. One of the antagonists, who worshiped what he thought was the True God, found himself in the afterlife confronted by the One True God. Shaken to find he was worshiping the wrong god all along, the man fell at the feet of the Glorious One and this scene unfolded:

[The man thought,] Surly this is the hour of death, for [The True God] will know that I served [the wrong god] all my days and not him. Nevertheless, it is better to see [The True God] and die, than to be [ruler] of the world and live and not to have seen Him.’ But The Glorious One bent down … and said, Son, thou art welcome. But I said, Alas, Lord, I am no son of thine but the servant of [the wrong god]. He answered, Child, all the service thou has done to [him], I account as service done to me (517).

I left out much of the context of this allegory for the sake of brevity, but the point being made here is, God knows the hearts of men and he saves whomever he pleases (Romans 9). (This doesn’t relieve us the obligation to evangelize, for (a) we have been commanded to do it, and (b) it is better for communities to live knowing Jesus, than live without knowing him.) Thus, it is offensive for us, as mere people, to be presumptuous enough to questions God’s methods of salvation. Anyone questioning Jesus as the only Way is likely not asking with purely philanthropic motives. Dr. David Stern astutely acknowledged that people “often raise the issue not out of concern for the ‘pitiful lost heathen’ but as a dodge to justify their own unbelief; the very form of the question assumes that God is unjust, and not worthy of their trust, that the ‘primitive tribesman’ is an innocent ‘noble savage’ and God the guilty party” (335). As we know, all men, (primitive or sophisticated) are not innocent, and God cannot be guilty.

This type of objection is likely the result of a straw man the unbeliever has set up, only to knock down. They don’t have the intent to take an objective look at the claims of Jesus in the first place. Those who may have some genuine concern for the un-evangelized must first decide how they will respond to the grace being offered to them, and let God worry about those who have not yet had the privilege of the message. You can be sure God is a better caregiver than they, and he has more concern for the un-evangelized than any other person. Once the skeptic has a life changing conversion, God may very well use him or her to reach those who haven’t yet heard the Good News.

References:

- Boyd, Gregory and Eddy, Paul: Across the Spectrum; Understanding the Issues in Evangelical Theology

- Lewis, C. S.: "The Last Battle" in The Chronicles of Narnia

- Lewis, C. S.: The Problem of Pain

- Stern, David: Jewish New Testament Commentary

The Messy Rebirth

Many doctors will agree the two most traumatic and frightening events in life are birth and death. These two physical activities are not romantic or graceful, but messy, painful and unflattering. There’s nakedness, blood, struggle and panic. As followers of Jesus, we do both at once. Therefore, the Christian walk is bound to be turbulent.

When we talk of being “born again” we often have in mind a quick event like that of a physical birth. We envision the event to happen in one (earthly) day, such as the day a Christian decides to believe. But the Bible refers to this rebirth as a process that unfolds here on earth. That is why Paul refers to those in Christ as being saved, and those who are not in Christ as perishing (2Cor. 2:15, ESV). And with this rebirth, comes the gradual death of our old selves (Matt. 16:24).

Thus these two heavy spiritual events are happening at the same time for the believer, a birth, and a death – no less messy than the physical counterparts. (An excellent allegory of this process is found in John Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress.)

Here’s what I mean. When a person comes to understand his own wickedness, and realizes he needs help, the good news of Jesus is the beginning of new life for him. He will find that all his corruption and wrongdoings are wiped off his slate, and he gets a fresh start. This forgiveness results in the joy we know. We know life with the creator is unfathomable ecstasy, and the alternative to Jesus is guilt, shame, filth, wretchedness and crime. We sing because we don’t want to be dirty, but clean, and we have been cleansed. But, after time passes, the new believer will realize he is not yet finished dying to himself. He still has sinful impulses and often must bitterly resist a hunger to do wrong. If he gives to temptation, he is heartbroken. If he resists, he is perplexed and wearied. Life becomes an undulation of joy of salvation, and disappointment over fleshly desires. At times it can be difficult to rest in forgiveness when there is still the relentless desire to do wrong.

If you struggle through this kind of perplexing tension, you can be sure the work of salvation is in you. For, the beginning of rebirth is not self-gained perfection, but only the desire to be like Jesus and be good. If you have the desire, Jesus is working on you. We see Paul struggling with this very problem: “For I know that nothing good dwells in me, that is, in my flesh. For I have the desire to do what is right, but not the ability to carry it out” (Rom. 7:18). But our flesh is dying, and it won’t go down easily. It will cause us grief as long as we occupy our old husks. Many scholars believe Paul’s famous thorn in the flesh was a sinful impulse (2 Cor. 12:7). It agonized him so much he wouldn’t leave Jesus alone about it. The reply he got was, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness” (verse 9).

Thus we are faced with a beautiful phenomenon of God’s character: He wills us not to sin, but can use our dying flesh to perfect the rebirth we are experiencing. Although we may not fully know why God works this way, we can surely know he understands us, because he walked with us. Because of this, there is mercy enough when we stumble. As long as we hate the falling, we can be sure he will always be ready to help us back up. No one put it better than C. S. Lewis:

“[God] wants [his people] to learn to walk and must therefore take away his hand; and if only the will to walk is really there, he is pleased even with their stumbles” (p. 40).

Unfortunately, this rebirth is very unflattering. In involves becoming conscious of our own nakedness, helplessness, and weaknesses. We will wail, moan and cry. We’ll flail our pudgy spirituals limbs about. We'll need our diaper changed very often. But God will continue to care for this new creation of his. Because our desire is to be with him, he is happy to hold our hand until we can walk on our own in maturity, on the other side of this life.

Reference:

Lewis, C. S. The Screwtape Letters. New York: HaprerCollins, 1942.

The Healing Tallit

“And behold, a woman who had suffered from a discharge of blood for twelve years came up behind him and touched the fringe of his garment, for she said to herself, ‘if I only touch his garment, I will be made well’” (Matthew 9:20-21).

This quotation is packed with meaning and sentiment uncommon to our modern culture. First, it is easy to miss the gravity of this woman’s hemorrhage. In the first-century Jewish culture, it made her an outcast according to the Law. She was seen as dirty – people avoided her, (and the things she touched) because of her condition (1). This explains why she attempted to touch Jesus in secret, for she knew the Law said it would pass her unclean status to the rabbi (2).

But the significant part of the text is the specification of where she touched: the fringe of his garment. The word “fringe” is translated from the Greek kraspedon, which is “a tassel of twisted wool” (3). As an obedient Jew, Jesus is wearing the robe with “tassels on the corner of [his] garment,” required in Numbers 15:37-41. The corner of the garment, in Hebrew was called kanaph (כנף), which could also be translated as “wings” – hence Jews often referred to the corner of their outer garments as wings (4). The garment itself is called the tallit, which is still worn during ritual worship by observant Jews. Tassels are worn on the four corners of the tallit in fulfillment of Numbers 15 – these are called tzitzit and are considered holy because they represent the commands of the Law. According to Dr. Moseley, in Jesus time tradition held that the tzitzit (tassels) of the Messiah’s tallit (outer garment) would have healing properties. This likely had roots in Malachi 4:2, believed to be a reference to the Messiah: “But for you who fear my name, the sun of righteousness shall rise with healing in its wings” (emphasis mine).

The bleeding woman would no doubt be familiar with that scripture and the tradition behind it. Her desire to be healed motivated her to touch the one place on Jesus’ garment (tzitzit/fringe), which would have healing properties if he was indeed the Messiah.

Here’s what we can take away: The woman (a) knew the scripture and (b) believed them. If she had not believed, she would not have risked public ridicule by making the rabbi unclean. Had she not known the scripture (and the scholarly interpretations) she would not have thought to touch the tzitzit. But it was her specific act of touching the tzitzit that demonstrated her faith in Jesus as the Messiah, (with healing in his wings). And Jesus clarified to her, that it was her faith in him (not so much the tzitzit) that actually healed her.

In the same way, our faith will bless us if we know the scriptures, and believe them.

NOTES:

1. Leviticus 15:19-25 gives us perspective of the plight of this woman. A woman who bleeds from her menstrual cycle was labeled unclean, and anything she touches would also become unclean – be it another person or object. It must have been a burden to remain this way for seven days – but twelve years without human contact would be misery. This would not only limit her interaction with people, but it prevented her from entering the Temple area and celebrating the holy festivals.

2. In his Jewish New Testament Commentary, Dr. David Stern notes, “normally the impure defiles the pure” (p. 38, citing Hag. 2:11-13 and the Talmud). In this case, however, the opposite occurred, the impure became clean. Realize the only other place this happens in scripture is Exd. 29:37. After seven days of consecrating the alter, it became “most holy” and “whatever touches the alter shall become holy.” We make a connection to the “most holy” alter and Jesus, who is most holy – when we touch him, (like the alter) he remains undefiled, while we are cleansed. Also, the alter happened to be the place where blood was spilled and sin was atoned for.

3. From Dr. Ron Moseley in Yeshua; A Guide to the Real Jesus and the Original Church, p. 20.

4. This changes the way we visualize places in the Bible where God’s wings are mentioned. For example, “under his wings you will find refuge” (Psalm 91:4), and, “hide me in the shadow of your wings” (Psalm 178). Also, when the Jews pray under their prayer shall (tallit) they are considered under the protection of God’s wings.

Significance of Blood, Water and Spirit

There are good reasons Saint John reported water and blood flowed from Jesus’ side after the Roman soldier pierced him with a spear. The medical explanation is called pericardial tamponade – a condition usually resulting from major chest trauma.

Many NT scholars believe Jesus suffered from this condition in his final moments. Basically, it is a condition where water fills the sac surrounding the heart (called the pericardium). Since we know Jesus was flogged and beaten, this is where he could have suffered the chest trauma. Pastor Mark Driscoll, Marshill Church, said he believes it was either this, or that Jesus fell under his cross beam when he was carrying it. Cross beams could way more than 100 pounds (like a railroad tie) and would crush a man's chest if he fell under it. This would explain why John's gospel mentions Jesus carried his own cross, but the synoptic gospels claim Simon carried it. One could mend this surface contradiction by holding that Jesus began by carrying his cross beam, but weakened from his flogging, fell underneath the weight and was crushed, and from that point being unable to carry the beam, thus needing Simon's help.

With that kind of chest trauma, fluid would build around the heart causing massive heart failure and death. This would explain why blood and water came out when his side was pierced with a spear. This would also debunk the swoon theory, which states that Jesus merely passed out on the cross, and the Romans, (who were professional executioners) mistook him for being dead. If water came from his side, chances are he surely died from massive heart failure.

Here's why it was significant enough for Saint John to record it. Water and blood played significant roles in the ritual cleansing of a person. Baptism was a very common ritual, and the law required baptism for a number of situations. For example, a woman who finished her menstrual cycle would need to be immersed in water before being clean again. Another example is seen with the high priest, who was baptized five times before entering the Most Holy Place on Yom Kippur (the Day of Atonement).

Also, we know that blood atones for sin, and "without the shedding of blood there is no forgiveness of sins" (Heb. 9:22). In fact, in many cleansing rituals, blood and water were used together. For example, in order for a leper who had been healed, to be pronounced ceremonially clean, he needed to be (among other things) sprinkled with blood and water together, then baptized (Lev. 14:1-9, Heb. 9:19-20). The blood is necessary for atonement because the wages of sin is death, (Rom. 6:23) and the life of a creature is in its blood (Lev. 17:14). Water (I suppose) is significant because it is the one base substance needed for all kinds of cleaning – so blood for the life, and water for the cleansing. These things don't evoke very much imagery in our culture because we are so far removed from animal sacrifices (which required blood and lots of water). But to the first-century Jew, blood and water together evoked graphic imagery of death, substitution and purification. 1 John hammers on this: "This is he who came by water and blood - Jesus Christ; not by the water only but by the water and the blood" (5:6a). Additionally, water in the near east has always been a symbol of life. Consider that Jesus referred attaining eternal life through “living water” (John 4:14).

This is also why the Christian sacraments (baptism and communion) are symbols of water and blood. The third element is the Spirit, where Jesus will "baptize us in spirit and fire" (Luke 3:16). Further along in 1 John 5, the spirit is mentioned as the third witness (verses 6-9). So, water blood and the Spirit are major themes for us. One could even argue our baptism is a picture of the great flood from Gen. 6, and our immersion with the spirit a picture of how God will one day immerse the earth in fire (Rev. 8) - both having cleansing properties. We see all three elements at the cross right at the point of Jesus’ death. His last words were "Father, into your hands I commit my spirit!" Then, water and blood flowed from his side. Water, blood, spirit.