Right from the get-go we have something of an epistemological/ontological problem. I mean, right? That is, there are differences that are easier to see, and then there are differences that are more central, but harder to discern. On the ontological side the whole of the order of salvation, or ordo salutis, describes the difference. The believer has been regenerated, given the gift of faith, is indwelt by the Spirit, gifted by the Spirit and grows in grace and wisdom. The unbeliever has none of these. But we lack magic soul-exposing glasses by which we can judge these invisible changes.
While we cannot see into the souls of others, Jesus does tell us that we can read fruit. That, however, may not be as easy as we think. Suppose you knew a man who not only was unfaithful to his wife, but was unfaithful with the wife of another man. When his paramour becomes pregnant with his child he then murders her husband. Or consider another man who spent years studying the Word of God. He boldly went into hostile lands and proclaimed that same Word. He spoke with Jesus in the context of the utmost intimacy. He was even known to cast out demons in Jesus’ name and to heal the sick. Those two piles of fruit are radically diverse. Yet we would be wrong on both counts if we affirmed the first was not a believer and the second was a believer. For of course the first is King David, the second Judas Iscariot.
Unbelievers are more than capable of living visibly “righteous lives.” And believers not only still battle against sin, they often lose those battles in public and spectacular ways. Which is why I would suggest that the best distinguishing mark isn’t that believers sin less, though that certainly may be the case, but that believers repent more. We are the repentant.
I would argue, in fact, that before we begin to talk about the fruits of repentance, or fruit befitting repentance we recognize that repentance is fruit. It is cultivated by the Spirit in us, and blossoms into God-honoring sorrow for our sins, but also God-honoring confidence in His grace. Indeed the fruit befitting repentance, I would suggest, while it should include committing of fewer sins, or sins less flamboyant, is more the fruit of the Spirit. The repentant bear love, for they know they have been forgiven much. The repentant are marked by joy, for they know they have been forgive much. The repentant are at peace, for they know they have been forgiven much. The repentant are patient, for they know they have been forgiven much.
Christians ought to know this. I wish still more, however, that unbelievers would have to confess it. Rather than grumbling that we are a holier-than-thou people, I wish they, at least in their moments of honestly, would admit that we are a more-repentant-than-thou people. I pray a day will come when we will be known more for humility than pride, joy more than anger. Until that day comes, however, I will continue, by His grace, to repent for my failure to obey His law.
We are fools. That’s a good starting point. Every mother’s son of us was made in the image of God. We are all together by nature children of wrath. Our heavenly Father is remaking those of us who have been born again by His Spirit into His children, through His grace. Yet, at every step along the way we face the compulsion of judging ourselves by ourselves. We want to know how we stack up against other image bearers. How silly to think the petty things that distinguish us from each other could compare with the august majesty that we all have in common. We insist sin has wreaked less havoc in and through us than it has in and through others. Which is rather like arguing that we destroyed Hiroshima less potently than Nagasaki. We loudly insist that our sanctification is more potent than another’s. How could we believe our actual holiness has a measurable significance in relation to our imputed righteousness, His righteousness that covers us?
The essence of what we are, humans, sinners, saints, is shared equally among each respective group. Yet we want to measure and emphasize the minuscule differences. And of course we botch up these tiny measurements. Our thumbs are too clumsy for such fine tools, and our eyes too myopic. We grade ourselves on one curve that inflates our virtues, and grade others on a curve that inflates their vices. All because the important thing to us isn’t what we are together, but what we are alone, what sets us apart from everyone else. In judging ourselves by ourselves we forget ourselves and what we really are.
What defines me truly is precisely what I have in common with so many others. My dignity is wrapped up exclusively in His image in me. My shame is wrapped up exclusively in my common sin. Best of all my glory is wrapped up in the glorious truth that I am among the many brethren of the First Born, and that because of His covering of me. Where I stand in line with all the others in each of these categories can’t possibly matter.
This doesn’t, of course, undo appropriate roles I find myself in. There are those that I am called to lead, as a husband and father, as a teacher, as a pastor. And there are those I am called to follow, as student, as a congregant, as a citizen. Remembering all we have in common, however, reminds me that I do not lead because I am greater than those I lead, nor that I follow because I am lessor than those I follow. My children, my students, my flock, these are all my brothers. And my teachers, my elders, my civil leaders, they too are all my brothers. I have no reason to lord it over anyone because all that is good in me is our common Lord.
I’m in good company in my folly. The disciples, for three years jockeyed for position. The saints ever since have marched in their footsteps, trolling for honors. I pray, however, that I might treasure this trophy, attain this accolade, secure this status- that I would be a world-champion repenter. And for that, I repent.
Thesis 74- We must see children as God does, as a blessing from Him.
It’s a staple of pastoral humor. You can pretty much count on some quip coming from the pulpit when summer vacation starts, bemoaning the burden of children home from school, and when it ends, celebrating the blessing of shipping children off to school. It makes me cringe every time. First, because it must be hurtful to the children. Second, because it reflects the ethos of the world around us and third, it belies the very Word of God. The Bible teaches that children are a blessing from His hand (Psalm 127). The Bible is correct, and we are wrong.
We are wrong on two counts. First, children are a blessing. They are expensive, financially, physically, emotionally. They have the power to break our hearts. They are sinners who sin against us, and against whom we sin. None of which changes the truth- they are gifts, blessings. We know this, of course, when we aren’t giving way to cultural flippancy. What parent would not give up everything to save his or her child? Yet, we grumble against them. We embrace sundry technologies specifically designed to make our marital unions barren. We send them away to be educated, and then grumble that they come back changed. Children, however, are blessings in more ways than we can count. They love us, encourage us, inspire us, help us. They receive our love, lap up our encouragement, seek to please us and leave room for us to help them.
The second point, however, is equally important. Children are a blessing, from God. Children do not come to pass by mere natural forces. They come from His hand. Which means we are fools to be anything but grateful. He not only gives every good gift, but every gift He gives is good. Even with the expenses, even with the broken hearts. They are gifts made by Him, given by Him, to us. Who would ever say to the God of heaven and earth, as He offers us a gift, “No thank you.”? Who would ever say, “Maybe later, thanks.”? We would, because we are fools.
Reformation requires of us that we re-form our thinking, our priorities, that we cast off the wisdom of this world that is nothing but foolishness. We receive the biggest bang for our reformational buck when those re-formations happen at the most foundational levels. There are precious few things more foundational than how we look at children and God’s relation to them. If we saw them for what they are, perhaps we’d not only want more of them, but want of them more. If we knew from Whom they came perhaps we’d strive more diligently to direct them back, to raise them in the nurture and admonition of the Lord (Ephesians 6:1).
Too often the church and the family see one another as competitors, for time, resources, energy. Both, however, are creations of the Lord of Creation. He calls us to love both and to serve both. And to give thanks for both. Gratitude may well be the very bedrock of Reformation. Lord, help us to give thanks.
Community and the Christian have something of a love-hate relationship. Most of us long to be part of a vibrant, immersive, community of love built around Jesus and the gospel. We also, however, want to be left alone. We don’t want to be bothered with the needs of others, nor do we want our failures to be known by others. We want genuine relationship, and we want to save face. We want vulnerability and invulnerability. We complain about loneliness then commit ourselves to a church where we are unknown and can slip in and out without being noticed. We have a hunger that needs to be satisfied inexorably tied to a fear that needs to be exorcised.
Casting Out Fear
Which means we need to get over it. Once we acknowledge the reality of our fears, and look them in the eye, equipped with the gospel, we can move past them. After that, well, that’s when it gets complicated. Whether you embrace an understanding of the Bible that drives a wedge between the Old and New Testaments or affirm the organic unity of the whole, one tool that God has given us to bring us together as a people is… now don’t freak out on me, remember we truly have nothing to fear in Christ… shared meals.
Old Covenant Meals
In the Old Covenant, the great bulk of the ceremonial law is devoted to two things- the sacrificial system and God’s mandated holy days. What do they have in common? Shared meals. Sacrifices did not end with the death of the animal. They did not end with the burning of the animal on the altar. They ended with the priest sitting down with the family to eat. The holy days were called neither holy days nor holidays. Rather they were called feasts. God’s people were commanded to come together to feast several times each year.
New Covenant Meals
In the New Covenant Jesus gave us as a sacred memorial of His death for us, a meal. Nothing complex or elaborate. Bread, and wine. He called us to eat together. Consider as well how many of the parables of Jesus had to do with feasting, and those who would refuse to come. Even the climax of human history is, ironically, not merely the glorious wedding of the Groom and His bride, the church. No, it is the wedding FEAST that we look forward to, that we receive a foretaste of at the Lord’s Table. Finally, in the New Covenant, the sign of being cut off from the community was to be excommunicated, to be removed from that table. Remember as well that a man not given to hospitality is not a man who should be an elder.
Shared Meals, Shared Lives
Do you think maybe there might be something powerful, important, fruitful, unifying, edifying about sharing a meal together? Do you think we’ve lost much in first relegating the Lord’s Supper to a few times a year, and growing churches beyond our capacity to know each other? We don’t need another program. We don’t need another para-church ministry with a mission to create community. We need to invite people into our homes and to our tables. We need to joyfully accept such invitations from others. Shared lives mean sharing the stuff of live, the meals He sets before us. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a lunch with a new brother to get to. Community, friends, isn’t something you find. It’s something you build, and invite others to.
Rituals are habits of remembrance. We give thanks before we eat to remember that God is our provider and to gratefully acknowledge Him as such. We celebrate advent to remember the joy of the incarnation. Neither of these are required in God’s Word and must never be required of God’s people. Neither, however, should they be forbidden (Romans 14:5).
When the world creates its own rituals, or habits of remembrance, we should not be surprised. We celebrate the heroism and the wisdom of our founding fathers on Independence Day. And we celebrate the blessings of mothers every second Sunday in May. In both instances we in the body of Christ are not merely celebrating random pleasures, but giving thanks to God for good gifts that we know have come from Him.
My wife is a walking, talking ritual of remembrance, a living symbol and conduit of God’s grace. I receive that grace daily, as well as witness it flowing into the lives of our boys. All three of us, messy, masculine and melancholy have become better men through her labors over us. She loves us and cares for us. She teaches us when we don’t feel like learning, and lifts us up when we feel like giving up. The first nickname I gave her still stands- she is Batnabbas, daughter of encouragement.
Before Lisa, my boys and their dad were like wilted, sun-scorched and dying olive plants around the table. Lisa, however, invests in us, waters us with grace, gently plucks the weeds we’ve grown comfortable with. She lifts us out of the mud and brings forth fruit. I am blessed each day to see the difference, to live the difference. She can see it too, though she is reluctant to take any credit. I, however, know when it all changed. It was the day she vowed before the living God to forsake all others. She put her hand to the plow and has not looked back.
She prays with and for all three of us, husband and sons. Not perfunctory, because you’re supposed to prayers, but fervent and effective prayers, storming the gates of heaven prayers, importunate widow prayers. What child or husband could ask for more?
But there is more. My wife, the mother of our boys, is godly, diligent, wise, gentle but she is also an awful lot of fun. We have a home filled with laughter, bellies filled with wonders from her kitchen. I am, as my boys have often confessed, a better man because of her. My boys, as I often confess, are better young men because of her.
Strength and honor are her clothing;
She shall rejoice in time to come.
She opens her mouth with wisdom,
And on her tongue is the law of kindness.
She watches over the ways of her household,
And does not eat the bread of idleness.
Her children rise up and call her blessed;
Her husband also, and he praises her:
“Many daughters have done well,
But you excel them all.”
Charm is deceitful and beauty is passing,
But a woman who fears the Lord, she shall be praised.
Give her of the fruit of her hands,
And let her own works praise her in the gates. (Proverbs 31:25-31).
We, Reilly, Donovan and I, rise to call you blessed.
*Check out the three of us discussing Lisa’s myriad blessings on the podcast posted below.
