At a Tree

March 11, 2014

In 1Kings 16 we’re introduced to king Ahab, and told of his surpassing wickedness.  But the details that the Holy Spirit reveals about his wickedness are remarkable.  We are told that Ahab became king (vs 29), angered God by worshiping Baal along with his Sidonian wife Jezebel (31), and erected an Asherah pole (vs33), which is sort of like the Canaanite version of a totem pole.

Another way of summarizing this is to say that Ahab followed the initiative of his wife into great sin and disobeyed at a tree.  This would make Ahab just another version of the same old Adam.  If this is a reasonable reading (and I think it’s too conspicuous not to be), then there are some things we can learn from it. The story of the old Adam, every time it is told, is a story that always ends the same way.  Sin came into the world through one man, and one trespass led to condemnation for all men; and on our good days, left to our own devices, we are just another first Adam.

But Christ stands in contrast to every other Adam.   Christ was the first and only Adam to get it right.  Instead of being led by His bride into sin, He leads His bride into the resurrection.   Unlike the first Adam, who hid from God and was driven from the garden, Christ is the way into fellowship with the Father.  And Christ alone demonstrated ultimate, unflinching obedience at a tree.

Bragging Rights

March 11, 2014

In Ephesians chapter 1, notice that the “riches of His grace… lavished upon us” in verses 7-8 are part of God’s eternal purpose of “uniting of all things in Christ” in verse 10.   This is very significant.  Will God be gracious to you? Forgive you? Redeem you?  Yes.  But how can you be sure God will do these things?  Because these things are all part of His plan to unite all things in Christ, and to bring glory to Himself.  Rest assured – it’s not all about you.  And this is comforting, because we like to think of our salvation as being both all about us and dependent upon us; but fortunately it is neither.  God is doing this for bragging rights, and He will not be ashamed by the outcome.

Canaanite Blackberries

Canaanite Blackberries

Everybody caught one but Daddy

Everybody caught one but Daddy

Mermaid, Wonder Girl, Pirate, Fairy-Princess

Mermaid, Wonder Girl, Pirate, Fairy-Princess

Inked

Inked

Garlic!

Garlic!

20080704tomatoes

‘Maters!

20080422tulipkids02

Springing Up

Airshow

Airshow

Spring Mud

Spring Mud

Just and the Justifier

March 19, 2010

In my last article, comparing an Anabaptist view of justification with a Reformed view, I said this:

“So in one view I am justified when, by my works, my life mimics Christ’s righteousness; in the other view, I am justified when, by faith, Jesus’ righteousness becomes my righteousness.”

Another way of saying this is that in the later view, I am justified by imputation. I am not justified because of a righteousness that inheres in myself; rather, I am justified because someone else (Christ) was righteous, and the righteousness of that someone else is applied to me as though it were mine. Christ’s righteousness is imputed to me.

But an objection arises at this point. How can we say that God calls righteous that which is not righteous? God would not lie, the objection goes, and so it would be wrong to suppose that God would ever call me righteous unless I actually became righteous in reality.  I want to interact with that objection here.

Those who would raise this objection generally fit into two groups. One group will try all their lives to attain to justification through the unmitigated righteousness of their own works, hoping to eventually achieve a state of actual sinlessness; the other group is essentially the same, the only significant difference being that the people in this group say the grace of God plays a part in their attaining to a state of sinlessness. But both groups share a reluctance to consider themselves justified until they reach a state of actual sinlessness.

I see several problems with this objection, and with those views. But before I get to them, I want to agree with a part of the premise underlying the objection, and that is that God is just. God does not lie, God does not cheat — “the decrees of the Lord are true, and righteous altogether” (Psalm 19:9). I vigorously affirm the perfect justice of God.

But in affirming God’s perfect justice, I am not arguing away from imputation; rather, I am affirming a premise given by the apostle Paul in his argument for imputation. And this leads to my first answer to the above objection: God’s perfect justice is the best single argument for justification through imputation. And that’s why Paul spends so much of the book of Romans developing that very argument.  In Romans 3:21-26, Paul says there is something that God did, which He had to do in order to be both just and a justifier of sinners. Now before we even talk about what God did to pull this off, we have to acknowledge that being both just and the justifier is a problem requiring a divine solution. God had to do something special in order to be both just and a justifier. Why is this? Well, precisely because of the objector’s premise — God doesn’t lie. No judge can set the guilty free and remain just, any more than He can declare the innocent to be guilty and remain just. God had to do something to make this work, and before He did it, there was something about the state of things that made His justice and His justification of sinful man in conflict with each other. This is Paul’s argument. According to God’s perfect justice He has judged us all to be sinners worthy of death; but because He loves us He is not desirous that we perish. But because He is just, He cannot simply sweep the sin under the carpet; so if God’s going to save any of us sinners without compromising His justice, something big has to happen. And this is the thing that Paul describes in Romans 3.

Now before we talk about what that thing is, we already have enough information to know what it is not. In other words, before we discover how God justifies the sinner, we already know how He doesn’t do it. He doesn’t do it by the law; for we are all guilty before the law, and the law requires that we die. But what is sin, but a violation of God’s law? Therefore we know that God does not justify the sinner by the sinner’s sinlessness. And this would be true whether that sinlessness is graciously attained to or not. Wait — go over that again — how do we know this? Well, if man were justified through sinlessness, then what about that arrangement would make it a problem for God to be both just and the justifier? What is there about righteousness-through-sinlessness that would require God’s special intervention to preserve God’s justness? It would already be a just arrangement at the face. Why would Paul even need to write this section of Romans 3? To ask it is to answer it; therefore we know that God does not justify a man by means of that man’s sinlessness.

But the objection has other problems as well, even if Romans 3 is completely ignored. Remember, the objector will maintain that justification comes by sinless living from here on out. God wipes the slate clean by forgiving past sins, the argument goes, and God continues to forgive future sin as we grow more and more holy, until eventually we grow right out of sin and become actually righteous, at which point we are declared righteous and justified. See? — no cheating on God’s part — we become righteous, and then He calls us righteous and justifies us. Perfect justice. But the problem is that this kind of justice cannot account for how the past sins were forgiven in the first place. If by the phrase “God doesn’t lie” you mean “God doesn’t call the unjust ‘just’,” then you must also mean “God doesn’t call the guilty ‘forgiven’.” The objection to the imputation of Christ’s righteousness on the grounds of God’s justice proves too much, because it rules out any kind of pardon whatsoever. This is not to say God isn’t just; rather, God’s justice does not mean what the objector thinks it means.  True text-book sinlessness has to start from the womb, and none of us can claim that kind of sinlessness, no matter how perfectly we live after our conversion. According to strict justice apart from imputation, even 40 years of sinless living after conversion, were it possible, still would not result in righteousness, because it provides no mechanism for forgiveness of past sins; and an appeal to God’s perfect justice only makes that point more emphatically.

And this leads to my third answer to the objection. Those who object to imputation really only want to object to half of it; they think of it as though it only flows in one direction. But it flows in both directions, and not even the objectors dare deny the other half of it. The problem is that the math by which they object to the one half excludes the other half as well. Here’s what I mean. At issue is whether or not Christ’s righteousness can be imputed to me, and the objectors object on the ground that imputation itself constitutes an act of injustice. When “God cannot lie” is raised as objection to imputation, it is implied that imputation is a form of lying. So here’s my question on this point: was God lying when He made Christ a curse for us? What about when He caused the chastisement of our peace to be on Christ? Was God acting unjustly when the wrath that was due us was directed toward Christ? When Christ died in my place by God’s sovereign decree, was that God’s unrighteousness at work, declaring the innocent to be guilty? Or, rather, did Christ not really bare my sins after all? This is absurdity! And yet, if imputation of Christ’s righteousness to me were an act of injustice, then so also wold be the imputation of my sin to Christ on the cross.

“But now the righteousness of God has been manifested apart from the law.” God be thanked and praised that He sent Christ to be the propitiation for our sins! “This was to show God’s righteousness, because in his divine forbearance he had passed over former sins. It was to show his righteousness at the present time, so that he might be just and the justifier of the one who has faith in Jesus. Then what becomes of our boasting? It is excluded. By what kind of law? By a law of works? No, but by the law of faith. For we hold that one is justified by faith apart from works of the law.”

Amen!

No False Comfort

March 12, 2010

I am wanting to do some writing on justification (in my spare time).  This is the first of several, hopefully.  We’ll see how it goes.

Hebrews 4:15 tells us that we have in Jesus a sympathetic high priest, not one who was untouched by our weaknesses, but rather one who was in all points tempted as we are, yet without sin.

I have to admit that for years I had a nagging complaint in the back of my mind about this passage.  I knew it was supposed to bring comfort to me, but I couldn’t help seeing it as a false comfort.  I mean, what good does His sympathy really do me in the big picture?  There has to be some kind of difference between us and Christ, right? Because we all sin and He did not; and whatever the ontological difference that accounts for this fact, it would be like a finger on the scale, wouldn’t it?  How can I really see Jesus’ example or sympathy in any useful way pertaining to my salvation, given the finger on the scale?  How can Jesus’ sinless life ever be of any comfort to me, when I know I can never in this life attain to sinlessness?  And how can God not know this?  It seemed like I was being patronized.  That was my secret, nagging complaint.

But that was before I left anabaptist thought for reformed thought.  And here’s why that shift in thinking makes all the difference.  As an anabaptist, I saw Jesus’ sinless life as merely an example, and believed that if I followed His example, perhaps I too could be justified.  I believed my righteousness came only by my adherence to the law.  “The man who does these commandments shall live by them” (Romans 10:5).  So when I would read Hebrew 4:15, I would understand it this way:  “Jesus walked a mile in your shoes and He did fine, so no excuses.  Jesus obeyed the commandments and lived by them, and so can you.”  I knew that somewhere in that passage was something that was supposed to bring me comfort, but the only hint of comfort I was able to identify was that Jesus could sympathize with me, as if to say “God still expects sinlessness from you, but ever since the incarnation, the Godhead now knows how hard it is.”  Well woopty-doo.  Not much comfort there.  Not much relief from overburdening guilt.   Not much hope for sinful man.   Is that the gospel? ’cause I don’t see any real good news anywhere.

But the reformed view of scripture is not like this.  The reformers recognized that although Jesus’ sinless life does serve as an example for all Christians, the fact of His sinlessness plays a much more significant role in God’s justification of man, and the reformation placed much needed emphasis on this role.  Whereas anabaptist thought seeks righteousness by imitation of Jesus’ sinlessness, reformed thought sees righteousness as belonging to God alone.  Righteousness does not inhere in man, and it never can, which is why the gospel is exactly that — good news.  The glory of the gospel — the gospelness of the gospel —  resides precisely in the fact that God’s people are saved by Jesus’ righteousness being accounted as though it were ours.  So in one view I am justified when, by my works, my life mimics Christ’s righteousness; in the other view, I am justified when, by faith, Jesus’ righteousness becomes my righteousness.

Seen in the latter way, Hebrews 4:15 no longer seems like a poor attempt at patronization, a sorry sympathy, a false comfort.  No, rather, it appears as a glorious, unspeakably wonderful gift!  Christ’s perfect obedience to the law is the righteousness by which all the faithful stand before God justified.  Praise be to God, who has borne my transgressions, to whom my sin has been accounted, and whose righteousness has been accounted to me!

Thoughts On Forgiveness

December 31, 2008

God created man, and we rebelled against Him.  God breathed life into man’s nostrils, and we slew our brother.  God put His image into man, and we sought to drive it out with a plethora of debasing perversions. 

So God became man, in order to redeem man from all these things.  And, true to our nature, we killed Him.   We beat Him half to death, openly mocked Him to His bloody face, wrapped thorns around His head, nailed Him to a piece of wood and let Him hang from it in public until He died, after which we speared Him like an animal and hurriedly whisked the corpse away, lest the whole affair interfere with our religious feasting.  After all, we must wash our hands before we eat. 

This God/Man, having been raised from the dead and enthroned as King of the Universe, and having every right to execute wrathful vengeance upon us all for our multiple and grievous offenses, now acts as intercessor between guilty man and righteous Judge.  He is both just and the One who justifies.  He forgives.

Now what is our part in this justification?  What great act did we perform to turn the heart of God toward the haters of God?  At what point in our history did we change our basic nature from one of godless rebellion to one worthy of God’s favor?  What rightful claim do we have to forgiveness?  And when the Spirit of God grants us the ability to offer a woefully insufficient “Im sorry,” what else do we bring to the table to sweeten the deal?  

Christians, who know the answers to these questions, forget that they also know the answer to this one: Is my brother less worthy of my forgiveness than I am of God’s?

Murdering Thief

November 3, 2008

What the world needs now is another political blog post like I need a hole in my head, so I’ll keep this brief.  No platitudes, no sensitivity, no undue qualifications, deal with it.

Christians, you have no business voting for Barak Obama.  I don’t care to spend time telling you who to vote for, considering that the winner of the presidential election will in all likelihood NOT be the good guy anyway (and this is due in part to the fact that there are no good guys within light years of the finish line).   So vote for Mickey Mouse for all I care.  But NoBama. 

Obama is a murderer of our nation’s children.  (Sorry, can’t sugar coat that one.  Google search “partial birth abortion” and educate yourself.)  And shut the hell up about the poor innocent people killed in “the war”.  Even if we were to assume that every death in the sandbox was completely unjustified, and we reduced it to a numbers game, the fact remains that the state of California, all by itself, kills more babies on purpose every year than the total number of deaths in the sandbox since Gulf War I.  If your vote is really motivated by a principled stand against innocent deaths, you’re going to have to vote for someone other than Obama.  If, on the other hand, your vote is motivated by your union affiliation or some other financial angle, or some kind of stupid neo-hippie anti-war kumbaya pietism, under the auspices of a principled stand against innocent death, then SHAME ON YOU.  Repent.

Obama is a thief.  And he is an advocate of large-scale, federally mandated systematic thievery.  Wealth redistribution is a work not of the federal government, but of the church government, by the power of the Holy Spirit, as a function of the love that Christians have for their God and fellow man.  If your vote is motivated by compassion for your fellow man, then vote for the guy most likely to NOT steal the money you could have given by yourself out of true charity, and more efficaciously.  If, on the other hand, your vote is motivated by your desire to have some other government do the work that the church has miserably failed to do, then SHAME ON YOU.  Repent.

Obama is a commie.  Not much to say here, except that if you’re also a commie, and over the age of 13, it’s time for you to pull your head out.

Updates Anyone?

September 25, 2008

I’ve gotten requests to send out email alerts when I update the blog.  In response I’ve added the little email link over there on the right, under the “Contact” category.  If you want to be added to the email list and notified whenever I publish new posts, shoot me an email.

A few of you have already been getting email updates.  If you want to continue to receive these, you will need to click the link and let me know, since I’ll be starting the list from scratch.

Allegro, for Dummies

September 24, 2008

I have made it a personal goal to familiarize myself with (and cultivate an educated appreciation for) the works of J.S. Bach.  Now part of this goal — appreciating Bach on some level — isn’t really hard for me at all.  The stuff sounds great.  The relatively limited exposure I’ve had to Bach in the past has been enough for me to find the mathematical aspects of his works intriguing and appealing.  So I’ve always “liked” listening to Bach.  But an educated appreciation?  I think that’s going to be a tall order.  There are so many layers of complexity here.  I’m gonna be at this for a while.

I recently purchased the Brandenburg Concertos, performed by the Academy of Saint Martin in the Fields & Sir Neville Marriner.   I’ve listened through the whole collection several times, but honestly — I’ve only really absorbed a small part of it.  These britches are a bit too big for me, but I’m trying to grow into them.

So far my favorite movement is Concerto No. III in G, BWV 1048: I. Allegro.  (Heh — I don’t even know what all that means, but I’m sure it points y’all to the right movement.)  Now I’m no expert on Bach (duh), but I swear the man must have been Trinitarian to the bone.  The concerto itself has 3 movements, and the theme (motif?) of the 1st movement is a little 3-note job.  And the movement consists of this 3 note theme being tossed around between 3 (whaddya call em?) voices.  But the way it’s tossed around is absolutely amazing.  The internal tension, mutual support of the voices, the perfect artful blending of apparently incompatible forces — it’s like a window into the internal workings of the Godhead.  A little 6 minute sermon on Trinitarian theology.

Oh, and then there’s that surprise didn’t-expect-it-right-there-did-ya glorious resolution of the whole mess near the end of the movement.  The movement gets as tense and dark and messed up as it gets, and you’re thinking, “Okay, it’s going to take a while to work itself back out of this hole,” but just then it pops right up out of the grave in full splendor, surprising everybody, because it wasn’t suppsed to happen then.  We didn’t expect it there.  I guess that’s how resurrections work, right?  The audacity!  Fantastic.

In the comments section of the “What Makes Him So Sure?” post, I acknowledged my own inability to diagram exactly how God can both ordain whatever comes to pass and remain untainted by the guilt of sin.  I believe He can and does, just to be clear, because I believe this to be the undeniable declaration of scripture.  But don’t ask me for a schematic.  And, as I said in my comment to Kevin, the same goes for the Trinity.
 
I bring attention to this now because I just so happened to get into an after-dinner discussion with a Roman Catholic priest the other day about the Augustinian/Calvinistic view of Divine Sovereignty, during which I made the same reference to the Trinity.  I don’t know how it is, says I, but I can’t deny that it is.  I’d like to share part of his response to this, and why I found it blogworthy.
 
The priest asked if I wouldn’t rather hold a view that I thought was more intellectually satisfying.  I had to admit that I would prefer to have a schematic rather than not, if given the choice, but that we’re not always given the choice, as with the doctrine of the Trinity.  The priest replied by saying he could think of an illustration that was analogous to the Trinitarian view of God, but could think of no analogous illustration of Calvinistic sovereignty.  And his for-example illustration of the Trinity was this:  The Father is the sun in the sky, the Son is the reflection of it on the windowpane, and the Holy Spirit is the bright spot on the hardwood floor.
 
Now unfortunately our conversation had to be cut short, so in fairness to the priest, know that he hasn’t had a chance to respond to what follows.  Stay tuned for updates on that.  But since I’ve got your attention, here’s my reaction.  I think this is a terrible illustration of the Trinity, and I do not find it intellectually satisfying in the least.  And the great big day-glow orange warning flag that for the life of me I can’t figure out why isn’t flapping wildly in the priest’s head is homoousios.  As any Roman Catholic apologist will gladly tell you, the Nicene Creed formally defined what we nowadays call the Trinitarian nature of God, testifying that this was the truth to which revealed scripture demanded we submit.  The controversy driving the council of Nicea was the teaching of Arius, that heretic who denied the Deity of Christ.  It was chiefly Athanasius the bishop of Alexandria who, in order that the church leave no room for Arius’ heretic views, tirelessly insisted the phrase homoousios (of one substance) be included in the description of Christ: “We believe in… in one Lord Jesus Christ, the only-begotten Son of God, begotten of the Father before all worlds, God of God, Light of Light, Very God of Very God, begotten, not made, being of one substance with the Father…”   The problem I have with the priest’s sunspot illustration of the Trinity is that it appears to leave no room at all for homoousios.  The reflection of the sun is NOT the sun, any more than the air warmed by the sun is the sun.  For this and many other reasons, I find this illustration decidedly not intellectually satisfying.
 
Now I mention this here because, at the premature closing of our conversation, the priest promised me an intellectually satisfying way to illustrate the nature of Divine sovereignty.  I’m all ears, and I mean that sincerely.  I mean, hey — if you say you got a map, I’ll look at it.  But I have learned the hard way that the sin of presumptuousness grows on theological systemization like gangrene on a bullet wound.  We must be always mindful that we cannot know the mind of God unless He reveals it to us by His Spirit, and there are just some things that He plays close to the chest.  Quite often the fact is revealed, but not the how-to manual.  That’s not our end of the stick to whittle on.  God is in heaven and you are on earth. Therefore let your words be few.