Thoughts - Song of Solomon SG Philosophy

Yeah, so, my Spring Break writing didn't get nearly as far as I'd hoped, and I may not manage to get back to it until May. But, in the meantime, I've taken up leading a Small Group. I've been doing a lot of thinking/philosophizing about it, because I want to do it right. Below is what I've come up with.

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Last week, Nate Chapin and I began leading a Small Group on the Song of Solomon. Both of us being busy people, we had hoped to follow a pattern common in SG's that just directly study the text: basically, read the text, and then discuss it. There are a lot of benefits to this system: among others, it requires a minimum of preparation, allows insights to emerge that the leader might have missed, and frees the conversation to move in whatever direction members might feel a need to go. So, that's what we tried. But, unfortunately, it proved less than satisfying for the subject at hand.

Reflecting on this, it's quite apparent why this is the case. That method is great in the relatively clear and comfortable New Testament epistles. This is because, being instructional, the messages in the epistles are a lot clearer and less open to imaginative interpretation (basically, they're pre-sanctified). To be blunt, the Song of Solomon isn't. It's a poetic story, which requires a very different style of interpretation. And many of the things that it touches on really aren't comfortable or appropriate for group discussion, especially in a college setting.

According to Jamieson, Fausset, and Brown's (JFB) commentary, church fathers Origen and Jerome noted that the Jews didn't allow anyone to read the Song until he was 30 years old. The more I've considered it, the more I understand the feeling behind that prohibition; the Song is very hard to read and understand. At the same time, I'm increasingly convinced of the truth of 2 Timothy 3:16-17, “All Scripture is breathed out by God and profitable for teaching, for reproof, for correction, and for training in righteousness, that the man of God may be competent, equipped for every good work.” And, further, I believe that it can be encountered in a pure and uplifting way, if those who study it would approach it correctly; Titus 1:15: “To the pure, all things are pure.”

[Note: Karen has provided a link which claims that the age was not 30, but 13, the age at which a child became an adult. This would honestly make more sense, but I don't have the time or resources to sort it out right now. Either way, I think the point would still be valid, although perhaps not as forcefully as with 30.]

However, just because something can be studied beneficially, that doesn't necessarily mean that it needs to be; in other words, the follow-on question is “why study the Song?”. I think there are a couple important reasons, at least to me. The first, at least for me, is that it poses a significant challenge. It's relatively easy to study an epistle, or to work one's way through Proverbs. Now, don't get me wrong: those are extremely essential studies, and there's great depths to be plumbed within them, which can take years to fully understand. But, at the same time, they're low-risk: it's pretty difficult to go wrong in your studies, the human predilection to read our ideas into the text notwithstanding. SoS isn't like that, as is shown by how often it's looked at kind of askance. It demands a greater amount of maturity, purity, and commitment to really get it. So, since I could use all three, what better way to pursue them than by doing something that requires me to practice them?

The second reason is related, but different: there's a reason God put this book into His Word. If you think about it, there are very few subjects that get an entire book devoted to them. Besides SoS, there's the Law (Leviticus, Deuteronomy), suffering (Job), music (Psalms), wisdom (Proverbs), and life outlook (Ecclesiastes). Among such a group, there are two basic themes: worship of God (Law, music) and living life (suffering, wisdom, and life outlook). Into this group, then, the Lord places this book about love. And not only places it, but gives it a place near the top of the heap - the title is “Song of Songs”, literally meaning “the greatest of all songs”, which seems almost an affront to the Psalms and places it at least on par with Solomon's other writings (Proverbs and Ecclesiastes). How do we make sense of this, except by coming to the obvious conclusion that this Love thing must be pretty important?

There are a couple different interpretations of how the Song should be read, which affect how we understand the value in studying it. Some see it as just what it is at face value: a love story between two people. Others read it metaphorically: the love between God and His people, especially, nowadays, Christians individually and as a group. The latter is obviously safer, but I find it hard to exclude the first: basically, if God puts such value on the contents of the book, and wanted it read just metaphorically, I think He would have included at least some kind of disclaimer. At the same time, it's almost impossible, this side of Calvary especially, to miss the metaphor. And the two aren't mutually exclusive: often, in fact, the New Testament uses this very idea of bride and bridegroom to illustrate the relationship of the Church and Christ. To understand that divine love is to gain insight into proper human love, and, similarly, to understand human love is to gain insight into the love between us and Christ. And if, in fact, this relationship with Christ is to be the major theme of our lives (Galatians 2:20b: “It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.”), then it's extremely clear why the Song is in the Word, and why it is very much an important subject of study.

With that said, though, it is also apparent that this study cannot be taken lightly. Again from JFB, the Jews had an apt metaphor for the relationship of Solomon's writings, that of the temple he built: Proverbs is the outer court, Ecclesiastes the Holy Place, and the Song the Holy of Holies. Now, at Christ's death, the curtain of the temple was ripped apart, and we were invited into such intimacy with the divine.(Matthew 27:51). At the same time, though, we must not take lightly the audacious proposition of peering into such an inner sanctum, but instead need to approach with fear, reverence, and forethought. If we will do so, the promised reward is the awe of encountering God in a new and staggering way. But we must be ready.

Unfortunately, none of us, including myself, have the time to dig in so deeply beforehand. I'm growing, but I haven't grown nearly enough to just ad-lib it, nor do I think I ever will. So, as an alternative, I'm going to be providing a set of directions for our study, to help us navigate the passages as safely as possible, while still providing us the freedom to truly appreciate what's going on and discuss what people believe needs to be discussed. It's going to take the form of a series of questions for discussion, and I'm placing them below:

Part 1: The Human Story

Reading the passage purely as the interaction between two people:

1. What is happening here?

2. What are the motivations behind their words and actions?

3. What, if anything, strikes you as particularly virtuous?

4. Where is God's involvement in the scene?

Part 2: The Christian Story

Reading the passage as a metaphor of Christ and His people:

1. What is happening here?

2. At what stage(s) of the Christian/Church life would this occur at?

3. What motivates both God and the Christian/Church here?

4. Where does this tie into the teachings of the New Testament about the Christian life?

5. How can we practically respond?

It's my hope and prayer that this will prove useful in facilitating a worthwhile and blessed study. Prayer from others would be much appreciated, too!

Thoughts - John 10:10b - "I"

See the introduction first - it'll help!
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“I”

OK, yes, I'm going to start by drilling down really little. It has to be done. If it makes you feel any better, though, I promise that I won't try to beat this by analyzing the period at the end of the verse. Unless the need comes about when I get to that point...

Anyway, there's a great importance in this little detail of identity. “I” is hard to mistake, since it always refers to the one speaking it. Beyond that, though, it is active – I do things, as opposed to things just happening to me. Starting the statement of mission with this one little word, Christ takes possession of it, making it absolutely clear that it's His.

“I” doesn't come automatically, however. Quite the opposite, actually: there are several prerequisites assumed by its use:

Rooted identity: before one can identify oneself as “I”, who I am must be clear. Christ knew who He was: “I AM WHO I AM” (Exodus 3:14). For those of us who aren't God, and thus aren't self-existent, things aren't so easy. Thankfully, Christ took care of that, giving us, through Salvation, identity in Him (see, e.g., Romans 6:5), so that we can know who the “I” is.

Uniqueness: “I” is distinct from “we”. Although community is important (that's coming later), the mission must be accepted by each person as a singular, unique human being.

Actionability: if the “I” is to be active, than it must be able to actually act. Christ, being God and thus omnipotent, had this covered. For us, Acts 1:8: “But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you.”

Authority: finally, even if one can make a statement of “I”, that doesn't mean that he may. I can declare that I will curtail inner-city crime, but, without the authority to muster resources to my aid, such an effort will be futile at best. Similarly, were we to embark on embracing Jesus' mission under our own authority, it would be laughable. Through His death, however, “He gave [us] the right to become children of God,” (John 1:12), lending us more than enough authority to take up that charge.

So, in summary, Jesus, being God, had all that was required to take active ownership of His mission. As humans, we wouldn't, except that through His we have access to all of it. Our acceptance of a role in His mission must be predicated on rooting our identity in Him, and through that relationship understanding the uniqueness, actionability, and authority that come through Him.

Thoughts - John 10:10b - Introduction

“I came that they may have life and have it abundantly.”
John 10:10b

Misson. It's something I talk about a lot. And, with the load of management courses I'm taking right now, something I also hear a lot about. The concept of mission and vision is vitally important, because it directs and focuses one's efforts, making the difference between flailing about and accomplishing something. To me, at least, it's common and easy to think about mission in relation to businesses and churches. Lately, I've been toying with a mission for my life, too, although that's still a work in progress. In the midst of all this pondering, it came upon me that Jesus Himself had a stated mission for His foray on earth. It is, I believe, the verse quoted above.

If the Church is to be the body of Christ on earth, and Christians individually “little Christs” (the literal meaning of the term), it is of the utmost importance that we understand His mission. There are two important reasons for this: first, so that we can understand His point in the whole thing, and, second, so that we, as His followers, can continue it. So, what I want to do is break down and attempt to pick apart this brief statement, and hopefully in so doing provide a starting point for realizing these goals.

Because this has the makings of a long thought, I'm going to split it into several posts. Should make a bit simpler for you to read, and, actually, for me to write.

P.S. Sorry for the lack of posting lately – RPI has been claiming most of my writing. I'm going to try to get this whole series done over the current Spring Break, but we'll see how it goes.

Thoughts - Acts 28:17

“After three days he called together the local leaders of the Jews, and when they had gathered, he said to them, 'Brothers, though I had done nothing against our people or the customs of our fathers, yet I was delivered as a prisoner from Jerusalem into the hands of the Romans.'” - Acts 28:17

I felt compelled to read this passage last night, even though I wasn't exactly sure why. What struck me there is, to me at least, fascinating, and so I thought I should share it.

It won't be news to most people that the life of the Christian is all about relationship. Obviously, the first and foremost relationship is that with God. Beyond that, the Scriptures also have a lot to say about our relationships with fellow Christians and with the world at large. There is, however, in relationship an element that, I find, is very easy to miss: identity. And in this passage, Paul subtly but effectively addresses what happens with one's identity when one joins with Christ.

First, the rather obvious, but important, background information. Paul was a Jew. Judaism had (and has) a peculiarly strong self-identity, having survived persecution, deportation, and dispersion by clinging to the knowledge of one God and to the law He had given. Beyond that, Paul was a Jew's Jew, a Pharisee who had studied under a man who is still well-noted even today, Gamaliel. In other words, Paul lived deeply into a group that took its identity very seriously. Thus it was that, when a new “sect” appeared to threaten to tear apart Judaism, Paul was zealous in trying to destroy it and save his people. His plans, however, were upset by Jesus in a very powerful way, and, in a noteworthy switch, it became his mission to reach the Gentile population with the Gospel.

After many circumlocutions and go-arounds, Paul got himself arrested in Jerusalem, and was forced to appeal to Caesar to pull his fate out of Judean politics. To appear before Caesar, one had to go to Rome, and we join the story three days after Paul got there, after a very hazardous journey. We don't know what he did those first three days, but on the fourth day, Paul called together the local Jewish leadership. It was kind of a “getting to know you” meeting, Paul's hope being to convince them to let him share the Gospel with the entirety of the Jewish population in the area. And he was successful – until he gave the actual message to the group and the inevitable split reaction and conflict broke out, that is.

The important thing to note here is Paul's way of addressing the Jews in the two messages recorded. In verse 17, they are “brothers”, fellow Jews and co-heirs of the promise to Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, and the prophets. Later on, though, when a fair number of them had decided to adamantly reject his message, Paul refers to “your fathers” (v. 25) - “yours”, not “ours”. From this, I see three important lessons.

First, joining with Christ fundamentally changes a person's identity. The change of allegiance in the spiritual realm makes it impossible for one to comfortably fit in one's old way of life. “Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come.” (2 Corinthians 5:17)

Second, this change doesn't mean that we cannot or should not reach out to our former compatriots. Paul, although he knew that his mission was really to the Gentiles, nonetheless insisted on reaching out to his people first. That's why, if you go through Acts, Paul routinely enters a city and heads straight to the synagogue. Generally, what would happen is that a significant group would reject him and start a ruckus, but he at least felt that he had to try. And, as it was, though there wasn't usually a mass acceptance of Christ, at least a few would generally be willing. I imagine this fact is what convinced Paul to keep trying in each new place.

Third, when it became evident that he had done all he could, Paul was willing to lay aside his identity with the group in favor of his identity with God. Because he recognized the fundamental conflict between being Christian and being Hebrew, when he saw hearts hardening in rebellion to God's plan he was quick to separate himself from them. It's not that he ceased to be Jewish; it's that he recognized that these fellow countrymen who refused Christ couldn't be part of his highest identity, and he had chosen to value his identity in Christ over any other.

In other words, Paul had a previous, overarching identity, and one that was, in general, a good one. Even so, he recognized that, having joined Christ, his citizenship was in heaven. (Philippians 3:20) So, while the new citizenship did not mean that he couldn't relate to his former people, it did make it impossible for him to ever again be fully accepted into that group, or to fully accept them. Until, and this is most important, he could show them and bring them into the new relationship as well. And that proved a very effective motivation for his life and ministry!

Thoughts - "Social Justice"

This was written before I really got together my format for the Thoughts. I happened to think of it this evening, so I thought I'd put it up. Enjoy!
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But What Is Social Justice?

Over recent months, I've heard the words "social justice" a lot. What's rather more amazing is just how much I've heard those particular words repeated. Actually, what's interesting in that is that the words seem to be used to the exclusion of any synonymous words or phrases, to the point that I fear the phrase has become merely a buzzword. That's unfortunate, yet understandable, because, while we talk about social justice, about how important it is, etc., what we've failed to do is say what it actually is.

Now to some it may seem rather pedantic to go over a phrase with such an obvious meaning. And, on one level, that's true. However, the more I hear it used, the less convinced I am that we have truly figured out what it means. I think we have some ideas, but nothing cohesive or comprehensive enough to be at all useful.

Connected with that problem is the problem of what do we do with what we know. To put it simply, if we don't know what social justice truly is, how on earth can we put it in practice? Sure, we have some examples, but are they the only, or even the best, ways?

Let me submit to you a candidate for a working definition. I'll take it straight from the horse's (er, Savior's) mouth: "Thou shalt ... love thy neighbor as thyself." (Matt. 5:39) Now, that may appear a little too obvious. However, I would say three things regarding that: 1) simple is good for a childlike faith, 2) for fun, I asked a random Christian to provide a synonym for social justice, and it took them a couple minutes to reach this point, so it's apparently not as obvious as it looks, and 3) it provides some important insights into the topic that should be pulled out. Let me flesh out #3 a bit more.

First, this definition says something about the scope of "social justice." Jesus did a good job of explaining who our neighbor is - see the parable of the Good Samaritan. I'll simply add that even the Samaritan didn't have unlimited resources or reach, but he did well by being ready when God did put someone in his path. We certainly can't help everyone ourselves, but we also can't help but find someone who needs the kind of love Christ commands us to give. Since none of us is a hermit, finding a “neighbor” in need shouldn't be too hard.

Second, it says something about the level of social justice. Just as most of us have no lack of love for ourselves, so we are to spread our love to as many others as possible.

So, are you feeling better now? This isn't so bad. But there are a couple of other things that need to be pulled out:

The third thing this passage addresses is how we approach social justice. Even a cursory understanding of the human condition in the Christian worldview reveals nothing deserving of love in any of us, but instead much that seems completely unlovable. But, although it flies in the face of the demands of justice, we continue to love ourselves, in a kind of self-mercy. Because of this, I find Social Justice to be a rather odd term – if we love ourselves via mercy, not justice, then what place can true justice have in our love for others? The kind of love we are called to give goes beyond, even contrary to, reason and justice – it's an extravagant love, not unlike what Christ showed to us in His crucifixion. It's a love that won't be fulfilled by putting money in an offering plate, a love that won't be satisfied with an afternoon in a soup kitchen, a concern for others that refuses to say “that's enough.” It's also, I might add, as much for myself as others, a love that not only is willing, but desires to turn the other cheek to a slight or injustice against oneself.

Fourth, and finally, it places social mercy in its proper context. As Christ Himself said, loving one's neighbor is only the second-greatest commandment (Matt. 5:39a). Social ministry never supersedes the greatest commandment, to give God His proper worship, in the fullest meaning of the term. Quite bluntly, the social gospel is no gospel of Christ's. You can feed billions, clothe millions, even save thousands from the horrors of human trafficking, and be a total failure in the greater picture. Honestly, what good will a warm fuzzy feeling for you, or a full stomach for them, do when both of you are burning in eternal torment? (see Matt. 18:9) Social mercy is pointless outside of the framework of godliness, and such a framework cannot be attained by putting God in the backseat. God demands that He be placed first and foremost in our lives, not just for His glory, but also for our benefit. Because, interestingly enough, God, in all His God-liness, loved us so much that He died to save us, the greatest act of social mercy ever to occur. If the goal of Christianity is godliness, then, as we mature in Christ, how much greater will our motivation to minister to our neighbors be, and how much more will we be able to love them in a way that can not only provide for them now, but give them greater treasures above?

When all is said and done, it is #4 that truly defines how social “justice” (really mercy) works. It's not contrived, it's not conjured up, it's not random. It's not something to just up and do either. True social ministry can only happen when we are in an intimate relationship with God. When that is the case, we'll see who we are, who we can help, and be driven to help them in a way that serves God's will. When you're working within God's will, it doesn't matter whether you're feeding the hungry, donating to a project somewhere else, or simply listening to the person down the hall – all are true social mercy, and will bear fruit for the Kingdom of God. When you leave God out of it, or use Him as a figurehead for your own ideas, the best of intentions will be misdirected, misapplied, and end up being a hindrance to God's plan.

Thoughts - Matthew 11:28

“Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.”
- Matthew 11:28

The Christian life, as commonly understood, can be an extremely busy one. The business of saving souls demands a lot of giving by a lot of people. Even in the Bible, the working, giving nature of the Faith is repeatedly stressed, leading to innumerable discussions of spiritual gifts, methods of evangelism, varieties of social ministry, whole laundry lists of church activities, and so on, and so on, and so on. It leads to a lot of exciting work, and even more exciting results. It also leads to incredible fatigue.

Which is why a lesson that I learned myself only a couple weeks ago continues to stick out so prominently in my mind. I've been very busy lately doing God's work, both in direct ministry and in getting things together to continue following His calling on my life. It's all good stuff, but, after one particularly eventful weekend, I was completely exhausted.

My automatic response to this, being a good Christian, was to pray. And God answered, by providing for me an extremely refreshing nap. As I woke up later, He reminded me of the main verse for today.

OK, I realize that it wasn't the most exciting story. Even so, remarkably, the experience has significantly modified my view of the Christian life, by showing me a couple truths I had missed. Or possibly ignored.

First, for all of our “doing”, Christ's goal was to give us rest, not burden us with work. “I came that they may have life and have it abundantly.” (John 10:10) - sounds more like joy than toil. The old system of the law gave us an unbearable burden, and the Jews literally worked themselves into exhaustion attempting to pull it. Christ alone could pull the load, and He invited us (Matthew 11:29-30) to come along with Him, so He could pull it instead of us.

Second, even more basically, Christ's goal was to give. It's true that “It is more blessed to give than to receive.” (Acts 20:35) But realize that, with God, there's very little we can give. Beyond that, if no one receives, then giving comes to a halt. To the audience Jesus was addressing, the problem was in getting people to give. In the Church today, far too often, the opposite issue rears its head: we get so caught in giving that we refuse to receive, even from God.

Now, this in no way reduces the commands of Scripture or the demands of life with God and in the Church. There are a lot of things we are to do, and those are good things. The problem is, we get focused on the to-do lists, and forget about both God and ourselves. God's first concern is for His children – He loves us and wants to take care of us. And, honestly, we need His care. Only when we'll allow Him that access will we have what it takes to minister to others.

Put another way: the point of the Christian life is the two-way relationship with God. Commune with Him and receive from Him, and you can do great things through Him. Concentrate on the “stuff”, however sanctified, and you'll be hopelessly drained.

“And my God will supply every need of yours according to his riches in glory in Christ Jesus.”
- Philippians 4:19

Happy Boxing Day!

I just wanted to be the first to wish everyone a happy Boxing Day. This blog being based in and catered to the USA, I'm not exactly sure what anyone will be doing to celebrate this august day, but I wish you well in whatever celebratory activities you may undertake.

Just a note, though: from my understanding, "Boxing" here does not refer to the sport. So, if your plans involve giving someone in the supermarket a celebratory uppercut, you may want to reconsider. Just a thought.

Nathan

Merry Christmas!

Sages, leave your contemplations,
Brighter visions beam afar;
Seek the great Desire of nations,
Ye have seen His natal star:
Come and worship, come and worship,
Worship Christ, the newborn King.

- James Montgomery

A Poem

This appears to be an evening for poetry by the members of the Triumvirate (see here and here). Unfortunately, though, I'm not in a particularly poetic mood. So, rather than attempt to force one, I think I'll post one that I've previously composed.

Yes, my poem is devotional. Don't act so surprised!


The day was closing dark and dreary
The wind was howling, the rain, it poured.
Yet as I watched this, soft and slowly,
A song of praise came to the fore.
The song did nothing to the scen'ry,
It stayed as wretched as before,
But in my eyes, the darkened green'ry,
Was in that moment all transformed:
What had before been gath'ring gloom,
That all within its grasp would capture,
Was suddenly made to assume,
A portal to God's next adventure.

The song that worked this curious act,
Did not address the stormy weather -
Its power indeed was in the fact
That it ignored it altogether.
This song, it took no heed of hap'nings
It stayed the same through thick and thin,
Reminded me of brighter evenings,
And made my joy to surge within.

Oh Lord, You are forever constant,
You changeth not from year to year,
My life may change within an instant,
So precious Christ please hold me near.
And like a song which bears within
Light from outside my present view,
Be Thou to me a Heav'nly hymn,
Let all I see and hear be You!

Thoughts - John 11:16

"So Thomas, called the Twin, said to his fellow disciples, 'Let us also go, that we may die with Him.'"
- John 11:16

This came up in a Bible Study yesterday. There was a point to it, but it kind of got lost. And it shall stay lost, as I think this verse is extremely interesting in its own right.

If you're like me, you're already quite familiar with the context of this story. Jesus is out teaching, and He hears that His friend Lazarus is sick. He waits for a couple of days, and then decides to head to Bethany to see about healing (at this point, actually, raising) Lazarus.

Now, the problem with going to Bethany is that Bethany is within the region known as Judea. And the muckity-mucks of Judea are quite convinced that Jesus needs to die. These folks, however, are not mere thinkers - they also have the influence and drive to help Jesus meet His Maker (logical quandary intended) in an expeditious manner. With this in mind, the disciples try to dissuade Him from this mission - first stating the fact (v. 8) and then arguing the necessity of the trip (v. 12). Thomas put an end to the discussion with his statement, noted above.

There are a couple interesting elements of Thomas' statement. First, Thomas has very little hope here. He's pretty sure Jesus is going to die on this trip, and the rest of the group may join Him. The annoyance and resignation in his voice is almost palpable in the text.

Second, however, Thomas never questions following Christ. He's pretty sure they're all going to die, and yet he chooses to still go with Jesus. The level of dedication felt here by Thomas is simply amazing. The fact that no one sees fit to argue with him seems to indicate that the feeling was mutual.

Now, if this were a happy Sunday School lesson, everything would turn out peachy, and the disciples would learn to trust God to keep bad things away. The problem is, that isn't what happened. The irony of this whole story, you see, is that Thomas and the other disciples were right - although it took a couple stops, it was on this trip into Judea that Christ was captured, tried, and crucified!

What do we make of this, then? I think there are a couple important points. First, it's not inappropriate to think rationally about your actions - what the disciples deduced as happening did, in fact, happen in part. Second, though, they recognized that their reason had to be subservient to their priorities - they were going to go with Christ, whether it seemed smart or not. Third, when they did this, God gave them neither what reason nor hope would have expected - instead, He gave them infinitely more, a place in the founding of His Church!

Someone Else's Thoughts

"The Christian's God does not consist merely of a God Who is the author of mathematical truths and the order of the elements. That is the portion of the heathen and Epicureans. He does not consist merely of a God Who extends His providence over the life and property of men so as to grant a happy span of years to those who worship Him. That is the portion of the Jews. But the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, the God of Jacob, the God of the Christians is a God of love and consolation: He is a God Who fills the soul and heart of those whom He possesses: He is a God Who makes them inwardly aware of their wretchedness and His infinite mercy: Who unites Himself with them in the depths of their soul: Who fills it with humility, joy, confidence and love: Who makes them incapable of having any other end but Him."
- Blaise Pascal, Pensees, fragment 556

Thoughts - 1 Corinthians 3:14

"If the work that anyone has built on the foundation survives, he will receive a reward."
1 Corinthians 3:14

I'm in a rebellious mood theologically, so be prepared for some interesting “Thoughts” in the near future. It's not that I want to cause trouble, but I'm increasingly seeing being built up in my mind an image of Christianity that is utterly different from what I've grown up with. And I think much of it started with the passage I want to tell you about today.

This is a passage that I've heard many times before, but never actually understood. Let me reproduce part of it, so we're on the same page:

“Now if anyone builds on the foundation with gold, silver, precious stones, wood, hay, straw- each one's work will become manifest, for the Day will disclose it, because it will be revealed by fire, and the fire will test what sort of work each one has done. If the work that anyone has built on the foundation survives, he will receive a reward. If anyone's work is burned up, he will suffer loss, though he himself will be saved, but only as through fire.” (1 Cor. 3:12-15)

The meaning of this passage, as I've heard it described, goes like this: the foundation is one's salvation through Christ. We build upon this by our actions – gold, silver, and precious stones symbolizing our deeds of righteousness, and wood, hay, and straw denoting our evil deeds. Thus, at the Judgment (“the Day”), that life will be tried, and it will be seen whether one has put his or her salvation to good use, or has squandered it. In either case, what is left (in other words, how much good one has done) will determine the quality of our eternal life: although all who have the foundation will be saved, those who put poor workmanship into it will (logically) receive less of a reward to carry into eternity than will those who worked hard at it.

There's a severe problem with this interpretation, though: we've misidentified what's being built. What we generally pull from this fits nicely with our American individualism, so we're happy with it Unfortunately, though, in so doing, I think we've completely missed the point. We need to look again, and see what the passage actually says.

The first piece of any building is the foundation, and it is this that defines what can be built. Build it too flimsily, and the edifice on top will come crashing down when the bottom fails apart underneath it. Build a giant foundation, and only a minor building on top of it, and you'll be ridiculed for poor planning. The lucky thing for us here is that Paul identifies the foundation of his building: Jesus Christ (v. 11). Interesting, though, that he mentions nothing more than that – it's Christ Himself, not salvation, or justification, or theology, or anything else. Him. And, by the by, that's a rather large foundation!

If the foundation determines the size of the building, then, this must be a large structure. And, like any large structure, it takes a lot of work, and a lot of workmen, to build it. Indeed, from verse 10, not just Paul is working on it. “Someone else” is building on what he started. But, beyond that, others are working on it, or else how would “each one take care how he builds upon it”? So, there is a whole group, of indeterminate size, apparently involved in this project.

Well, now, we're going to run into an issue pretty quick. For, you see, in verse 12, it is apparent that Paul is addressing his remarks on building with quality materials to this group. But these fine folks are building a single building, not a collection of buildings. And, if that's the case, each one can't logically be working on just himself. There has to be one overall edifice that they're collaborating on.

And, in fact, there is, according to verse 9: the Church. The Church, not as an institution, but as a community of people. In verse 16, Paul writes “Do you not know that you are God's temple...?” The 'you' there is plural – literally, “all y'all”. It's a community composed of individuals, yes, but addressed as a cohesive whole and not as a group of atomic units thrown together. And it is that group that is the subject of this work.

Now, one more point, and then the conclusion should resolve itself pretty easily. It could be argued that Paul is only addressing the evangelists of the time – himself, Apollos, & co. The amount of space Paul gives to this discussion, though, and the tone convince me that this was only because the Corinthians were too busy with their infighting to have provided a worthwhile example, so Paul had to bring one in. The goal was for the Corinthians, and, by extension, all Christians, to join in the work.

That's a long path to a simple, yet staggering, conclusion. In the end, yes, each person's individual work will be judged. However, that work includes much more than his own spiritual state – it's what he's put into the building up of the Church. And the Church is so composed that building it up involves, requires, building people up. In other words, Paul's words here, rather than calling us to only improve ourselves for God's Kingdom, call us to improve our brothers and sisters as well. It's a work He sees as worthy of reward. But it's a work that living out will require a significant change in how you look at things.

Ponder that. And then try to live it. If you're like me, it may blow your mind. That's a good thing.

And, fair warning: unless God deters me, you ain't seen nothin' yet...

Thoughts - Mark 1:40-45

"Moved with pity, He stretched out His hand and touched him and said to him, 'I will; be clean.'"
- Mark 1:41

I've been remiss in this lately, and that's not going to be fixed in any great way here. I read this passage last night, though, and thought it worth sharing.

Mark is the earliest of the four gospels, and it starts off in a much simpler way than the others. Luke begins with a formal introduction, as befits the research project his gospel was. Matthew, written to the Jews, starts off with Jesus' ancestry, in that culture His bona fides. John has my favorite introduction, a mystical and philosophical description of all that the incarnation meant, borne of a special nearness to Christ and long years of reflection afterward.

In contrast, Mark just starts. It's all very brief - what takes Luke 3 chapters, Mark gives 11 verses. The general impression is of a whirlwind of activity - about the only individual He has time to talk to one-on-one is a demon-possessed man, and that's mainly to tell the demon to shut up.

In verse 40, however, that changes, and what made, and makes, Jesus different came to the fore. In that verse, the activity stopped. A leper came to Jesus, "imploring Him, and kneeling," (v. 40), with a faith and insight greater than many of his contemporaries, and yet with a humble request for healing.

Jesus could have ignored the man. He could have just spoken a word. But, as He looked at this poor man, He saw a deeper hurt than just his body. Leprosy was both physically destructive and highly contagious, which meant that those who had it lived in a perpetual quarantine. The leper lived as an outcast, human in theory but barred from any participation. You can imagine the hurts and longings within the man, far deeper than the physical disease. Not imagining that there could be any cure for that while his disease persisted, he sought out the One who could at least heal his body.

Jesus, however wasn't satisfied to just go half-way. He wanted to show the man that he was loved as he was, in his "unloveable" state. So, what did He do? He gently, but deliberately, reached out His hand, and touched the man. At that touch, dried skin crinkled and flaked off, and the man cringed from the pressure on his diseased flesh. But in that moment, his physical brokenness was replaced with spiritual wholeness, the overwhelming love of God flowing into his soul and washing away the years of hurt and loneliness. Then, only then, was Jesus ready to address his body.

If Calvary shows the love of God in power, this scene, to me, shows it in stillness. The savior of the world, God Incarnate, for a brief moment gave the most outcast of humanity His attention and acceptance, for no other reason than that He loved the man. To the crowd, it probably made little impression, but to that man, it meant everything.

In this is the essence of the Incarnation. Christ didn't choose to redeem us in a sterile environment, He didn't try to play things safe. Instead, He became a man so He could be right here in our gutter with us, to show us His love on a level we could understand and respond to. He made sure we knew that He saw the filth and squalor of our sin, and loved us anyway. Then, and only then, was He ready to pronounce the words, "I will; be clean," and save us. O that we might know the power of His touch, not just as God, but as man!

What I'm Learning

"The fear of the LORD leads to life:
Then one rests content, untouched by trouble."
- Proverbs 19:23

Some may recall, from way back when, that I've been trying to figure out what God's been up to in my life. Because, back in May, He put me at home when that was the one place I didn't want to be. I've been asking Him for several months to explain this to me. And I think I have a partial answer now.

Basically, I think it's about two things: contentment and trust. I'd been getting shades of the latter for a couple weeks or so now, but the first only really struck me today.

When I looked at the prospect of co-oping, I wanted one of two things. I could have taken staying near RPI, and enjoying being able to spend as much time as possible with my friends (some of whom have become adopted family) there. Failing that, I wanted to be by myself, to think, to relax, to spend my evenings reclining on a couch with a hot cup of tea, cozy and content. I didn't want to be at home, sitting in the midst of organized chaos.

Don't get me wrong - I love my family very much. I've just been away long enough to be out of the swing of things, so being at home tends to swing me between being worn out in the excitement or bored in the recuperative periods. The main reason for this being that, while the rest of the family, having not disappeared to Troy for a year, have things going on, I don't. In all actuality, I didn't when I left either, but I was blissfully ignorant then, and I'm not now. Independence is addicting.

Realizing this, at least dimly, home didn't exactly seem like an enticing plan. But that's where God put me. So, in the midst of complaining, I asked Him to show me why. Part 1 was Grandpa's death. After that, though, I tried to get to Troy for the Fall, and was stymied again, so I knew something else was up. It took me a while, but now I'm here, with at least a theoretical knowledge of the point.

And the point, it seems, was to teach me a lesson about life with God. Basically, it boils down to this: God is what matters. Have Him, and you can be content in any circumstance. Lack Him, and even you heart's desire will leave you feeling empty. It's Christ's classic formula: "For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will find it." (Matt. 16:25)

This, this here, is where Trust comes in. To have what I want, and what, in fact, God has given me, and to turn around and give that up seems extremely irrational. Even if that's what God's told me to do, it seems crazy. But by what other method could He teach us to trust Him, than by asking us to lay on the altar His gifts to us. He did it with Abraham and Isaac on Mount Moriah (Genesis 22:1-19). When Abraham gave to God his most prized gift, God returned it, and in so doing wrought a transformation in Abraham. Indeed, according to James 2:21, it was for this act that Abraham was declared righteous.

What Abraham did required total trust in God. Trust that God had a plan, and that He could and would preserve His word and work to Abraham's good. And one that was active, shown to be alive because it compelled action. And it was that trust that was rewarded.

Thankfully, God hasn't placed me in such an extreme scenario. In fact, it's relatively benign. Living at home, while not what I wanted, isn't exactly a hardship. And I haven't been completely separated from the happenings in Troy, nor been cut off from relaxing completely. But the point remains the same: as the proverb says, contentment rests on the fear of the Lord - obeying His leading. The rest is in His hands - there is no better place!

The Poem

Now that the full story has come out, and my part in the entire scheme has been revealed (for those not aware, this was a practical joke that I participated in, but didn't organize), here's a link to the poem:

http://secret.or.not.admirer.googlepages.com/

Thoughts Upon the Close of the Fiscal Year

Take my life, and let it be
Consecrated, Lord, to Thee;
Take my moments and my days,
Let them flow in ceaseless praise,
Let them flow in ceaseless praise.

Take my hands, and let them move
At the impulse of Thy love;
Take my feet, and let them be
Swift and beautiful for Thee,
Swift and beautiful for Thee.

Take my voice and let me sing
Always only for my King;
Take my lips, and let them be
Filled with messages from Thee,
Filled with messages from Thee.

Take my silver and my gold,
Not a mite would I withhold:
Take my intellect, and use
Ev'ry pow'r as Thou shalt choose,
Ev'ry pow'r as Thou shalt choose.

Take my will, and make it Thine;
It shall be no longer mine:
Take my heart, it is Thine own;
It shall be Thy royal throne,
It shall be Thy royal throne.

Take my love, my Lord, I pour
At Thy feet its treasure store:
Take myself, and I will be
Ever, only, all for Thee,
Ever, only, all for Thee.

-Frances R. Havergal

Thoughts = Math.Random()

As you may have noticed, my posting has become increasingly eclectic in content of late. It's not just my writing - it's my mind right now. Not sure why.

This was pointed out poignantly tonight. In the PHD Comic (phdcomics.com) for 9/27, which I saw this evening, there's an apparently random number on a computer screen. Except it's not random - it's actually pi/2. And, yes, I did notice this on my own. Not sure what to make of it, but I haven't figured out an explanation that bodes well for me yet.

God is still good. But I do wish I knew His goal in this time of listlessness is. All in good time.

Ecclesiastes 3:11 says "He has made everything beautiful in its time." This is followed by verses 12 and 13: "I perceived that there is nothing better for them than to be joyful and to do good as long as they live; also that everyone should eat and drink and take pleasure in all his toil--this is God's gift to man." Perhaps this is the lesson - to discover joy, not in either the wonderful or the depressing things of life, but in the swirling mass that results when the two mix together. If so, I hope I learn quickly, but I have a sinking feeling that this is a lesson only learned with patience...

All the way my Saviour leads me;
What have I to ask beside?
Can I doubt His tender mercy,
Who thro' life has been my Guide?
Heav'nly peace, divinest comfort,
Here by faith in Him to dwell!
For I know, whate'er befall me,
Jesus doeth all things well;
For I know, whate'er befall me,
Jesus doeth all things well.

All the way my Saviour leads me,
Cheers each winding path I tread,
Gives me grace for ev'ry trial,
Feeds me with the living bread.
Though my weary steps may falter,
And my soul athirst may be,
Gushing from the Rock before me,
Lo! a spring of joy I see;
Gushing from the Rock before me,
Lo! a spring of joy I see.
-Fanny Crosby

Terra Beata

The Latin phrase Terra Beata means, roughly, "blessed earth." It's the name of the the tune to "This is My Father's World." Looking through my photos, I realize I'm blessed to be living in a truly beautiful place, and thought I'd share some of it with you.

Some may say this isn't half as pretty as Troy. Those people have been breathing too much smog. Brunswick is nice, though, but it doesn't have the same variety - with the exception of the field, which is by my church, all the pictures are within walking distance of the house.

Anyway, enjoy!

Funniness

On a completely different note...

Reading an article tonight, saw another article referenced, a review of the second version of a middle-school textbook. The title of the article is, I think, great:

"The Puffins Don't Help; the Book Is Still Trash"

I get the feeling the author didn't like it.

Thoughts - September 7, 2006 - 1 Kings 19:9

"'What are you doing here, Elijah?'"
1 Kings 19:9 ESV


Crazy but true, I've decided that I need to keep going with Elijah's adventure here. Why? Because I find it fascinating. Mainly because there is so much depth here, yet it doesn't make sense at first blush.

If you remember, we left off as Elijah, powered by God, reached Mount Horeb, a.k.a. Mount Sinai. Having come to Sinai, he found a cave, and set up camp. Now, God knew he was coming. In fact, based on verse 7, I don't think it would be stretching things to suggest that God sent him there. So, with that being the case, one is forced to wonder: why are God's first words to the poor guy there "What are you doing here, Elijah?"

If God had called Elijah to Horeb, then the way many Americans would read this question, as an accusation - "Why aren't you where I told you to be?" - doesn't work. Instead, the point of the question seems to be to get Elijah to think, and beyond that to take possession of the experience. In other words, God wasn't satisfied with just taking Elijah and restoring him, as if he were a machine to be wound back up and sent out. He wanted to cooperate with Elijah, to participate with him is his restoration. What this meant, of course was that Elijah had to establish what he wanted.

Unfortunately, it's at this point that I think Elijah made a crucial mistake. Rather than consider God's question, he replied with the statement he'd been planning on making for the last 40 days. Not that what he said wasn't for the most part true (although there is some exaggeration), but he failed to actually answer the question. He was too busy making his complaint to consider why God had brought him so far to ask such a simple question, which was in fact profound. In other words, he got too caught up in himself to stop to consider God's plan.

What happened next is one of those scenes that can be read hundreds of times without ever losing its ability to instill awe. Quite simply, God showed up! It's interesting, though, how He did it, as even in His method He made a point. The things that came before Him, the wind, and earthquake, and fire, recall to the mind to events of chapter 18, with fire falling from heaven, and great drought-ending storms blowing in. Amazing displays of God's power, but not God Himself. Elijah had seen God act in these events, but seeing Him act wasn't (and isn't) the same as meeting Him. What he needed was a whisper.

Why a whisper? Because it demands stillness and intimacy to be heard. It doesn't allow one to move, for the very rustling of one's clothes can be enough to drown it out. And one must draw close to hear clearly what is being said. In other words, to put it theologically, God's whisper was a call to Elijah to commune with Him.

Unfortunately, it is apparent that Elijah's heart kept him from this communion. Because he refused to follow God's plan, he was left unchanged by the experience. When asked again in verse 13, by that whisper, why he was there, he gave the exact same answer. Nothing to him had changed.

Now God still took care of Elijah. He answered his complaint, and provided Elisha as a helper. And Elijah, by God's grace, continued his prophetic work. But I am forced to wonder what Elijah missed in this experience. Had he abandoned his own agenda, and sought only to follow God's will, what power, what grace, what promises might have been his? We will never know.

I believe that God often asks us that same question when we come to Him: "What are you doing here?" May we be willing, when He asks, to stop in our tracks and examine ourselves, and in so doing to place our hearts in a place where He can touch them! It's only then that we can hear and respond to the whisper, within which is God's method to restore and empower our souls.