Thesis 28 We must be the bride of Christ.
When God the Holy Spirit gives us a metaphor, we do Him a disservice in reducing it down to a mere metaphor. When He describes the church as the bride of Christ, we are denuding His words if we conclude merely that this means, “Jesus loves the church in a way much like how a groom loves his bride.” The church as the bride of Christ certainly includes that notion, but its meaning is far richer, far more full. One thing we too often miss is that because the church is the bride of Christ, and Christ is the second Adam, the church is the second Eve. We, like our mother Eve before us, exist to be a helper suitable to our husband. Adam was called to exercise dominion, and Eve to be a help in that calling. Jesus is now exercising dominion, bringing all things under subjection, and the church is to be a help in that calling.
Brides, however, are far more than just helpers. They have a peculiar calling. Brides, for instance, are called to beauty. When a bride processes into the sanctuary, does anyone complain about the inefficiency of it all? Do we think, “You know, she’d make it down the aisle a whole lot more quickly if she weren’t dragging that train behind her?” Do we complain because she walks so slowly?
In like manner, the church is to be about the business of exercising dominion. This, however, is not merely an exercise of power. It is also an exercise in beauty. We move the kingdom forward when we are about the business of removing every spot and wrinkle from us, as we seek, through the grace and power of the Holy Spirit, to wash away all that is displeasing to our Husband. When we attend to our beauty we have not fallen into world-denying piety. We have instead entered into the great battle, wielding the weapon of beauty.
The bride does not merely work beside her Husband, but is likewise defined by her love for Her husband. That is, that Christ loves the church is true enough, but we are called in turn to love Him. We are to delight in Him, rejoice in Him, draw near to Him. Jesus is not an interest we have in our life while we pursue our life. He is instead our very reason for being. Progress in life is measured by growing in our capacity to love Him.
The bride’s calling is to be a help suitable to her husband not only in terms of ruling over all things, but also in the call to be fruitful and multiply. Here too it is the same with Christ and His bride. Our calling is to bring forth godly seed, both through the work of evangelism and through the work of nurturing our children in the Lord. When we are barren, when we are content that we are in the kingdom, and have no passion to bring more in, we are an unfaithful bride.
That, in the end, is the defining mark of all these things- our call is to be faithful, not just to the faith, but to our Husband. We faithfully seek to please Him. We faithfully grow in love toward Him. We faithfully bear fruit. And we faithfully give our affections to no other. We reject the seduction of the world. We rejoice in the love of our Husband. And we long for the day when we will dance with Him, with neither blot nor blemish.
Times are hard. As I write our pandemic has been rudely shoved to the back burner of our collective consciousness. Covid’s destructive side-kick, economic meltdown, is now flying below our radar. Instead our attention, and our fears have zeroed in on what is politely called civil unrest and more accurately called violent mobs. We are learning the nuanced differences between tear gas and pepper spray while spontaneous uprisings come equipped with a running tab down at the Bricks ‘R’ Us store.
One man, called to protect and to serve, is caught on camera killing another man while, in the name of his victim, thousands across the nation are caught on camera carting off televisions, Rolexes and high end cheesecakes. It has not been an auspicious few months. What surprises me, however, is that this surprises me. Are these strange days? Or are they simply the old normal?
Our first parents fell from the estate wherein they were created. One of their children murdered another of their children. From there it’s been a story of murder, theft, rape, war, starvation, sickness, death. After God washed the world clean, save for Noah and his family, God established civil government, giving it the power of the sword to punish evildoers. From that time forward civil governments, more often than not, have used that sword to punish those they were supposed to protect. Noah, the good one, the one who found favor in God’s eyes, drank himself into a stupor and his son took advantage.
Eventually the people of God were enslaved by a tyrant who hated them simply because they were Hebrews. Babies were murdered. Sickness and economic calamity swept through the land. And God carried His people on eagles’ wings to a land flowing with milk and honey. Before, however, He let them into this virtual paradise He reminded them, His people, His beloved, His own special nation, “When you go in, don’t steal from each other. Don’t murder each other. Don’t betray your husband or wife.” God’s people needed that instruction, and, just like today, they didn’t much heed it.
Why then are we surprised? Protesters march in the streets chanting, “No justice, no peace” and then are shocked when they receive justice and not peace. Derek Chauvin is guilty of a capital crime. The three officers with him are guilty of a capital crime. The rioters who shot and killed the retired police officer in St. Louis are guilty of a capital crime. The brick throwers and the looters are guilty of a capital crime. George Floyd was guilty of a capital crime. You are guilty of a capital crime. And so am I. Every mothers’ son of us stands guilty before the living God of that crime that earns not a life sentence, not a death sentence, but a life death sentence, a death that lasts forever in hell.
That we are under His judgment, however, doesn’t change that George Floyd didn’t deserve, on the earthly plane, to die. That every storeowner and every victim of mob violence are under His judgment doesn’t justify those sins committed against them on the earthly plane. What it does is take away our shock. What it ought to do is drive us to gratitude. We all, every mothers’ son, should praise God He hasn’t taken our lives. And we all, every son of the Father, should praise Him that He sent His Son, an innocent man killed through the cruelty of the state. We, the guilty, live, as His children, forever. I’m grateful for 2020, but I will be more grateful when it is over. Not because 2021 will be better. But because eternity will be closer. Maranatha Lord Jesus.
It probably says more about what defines our moments, the television, than the moments themselves, that we keep multiplying defining moments. For my parents’ generation, it was the death of John F. Kennedy. Everyone remembers where they first heard, or more likely saw, the news. Since that time we have added a moon landing or three, two shuttle disasters, and 9/11. We no longer can be certain what will follow, “Do you remember where you were when you first heard…” I was not yet among the living when JFK died, and was barely four when Neil Armstrong took his small step. But the rest of them I remember not only the events, but where I was for each of them.
Each of these events, however, was more startling than shocking. That is, while we weren’t expecting these things to happen, neither were we thinking, “It will never happen.” Presidents have been killed before, and technological marvels, and failures, are virtually a staple of American life. What truly shocked me, on the other hand, was the collapse of the Berlin Wall, and all that it symbolized, the collapse of the Soviet Union. There we had the curious marriage of both bang and whimper. The speed was bang-like. The events themselves were but a whimper.
We think, oddly, that we are immune. When I seek to warn folks about potential dangers coming down the pike the strangest objection I hear is this, “Don’t you believe in the sovereignty of God?” The unspoken assumption there corporately is the same one that messes us up individually. God is in control. Everything is supposed to be comfortable for me. Therefore nothing bad will happen. Well, there is a difference. It is true for the Christian that God is in control, and that nothing bad will happen to the Christian, understanding that “Bad” should be defined as anything that isn’t helpful in the believer’s sanctification. Comfortable is another matter altogether. But when it comes to this nation, things are different. God is in control still. But everything isn’t supposed to be comfortable for this nation. And of course bad things can happen here.
There is also a second mistake. Whether we are waiting for judgment, or are sure it will never come, in both circumstances what we have missed is the judgment that has come and continues to come every day. What might cultural judgment look like? Would it look like growing sexual insanity as described in ? Would it look like a culture where thousands of people each year are murdered by their neighbors? Would a culture under judgment be one where tens of thousands of people each year take their own lives? Would it look like a culture where nearly a million moms murder nearly a million babies every year? Would it be a culture which spends two months on house arrest followed by two weeks of rioting and looting? We keep waiting for God to judge us for our shameful corporate sins, and miss the obvious truth, that these shameful corporate sins are His judgment against us.
That the economy continues to teeter along, that foreign powers do not rule within our borders, that you can still Netflix and chill isn’t a mitigating of the judgment, but an exacerbating of the judgment. Because He has not yet chosen to topple all our idols we are fooled into thinking we’ve avoided His judgment, and so we continue down the path of destruction. We miss the opportunity to repent, and that is judgment at its most severe.
Judgment has come. Judgment is here. And judgment will come. The only escape is repentance, recognizing that we are Egypt, a stubborn and foolish nation of hardened hearts.
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Thomas Aquinas was a great gift to the church. He stands among the greatest minds the world has ever known. Which doesn’t mean, of course, that he did not have his flaws. One of which goes to the heart of his intellectual labors. He saw it as his goal to synthesize the wisdom of Aristotle with the wisdom of the Bible. Now Aristotle was no intellectual slouch either. That said, Thomas’ goal ought to immediately raise flags for us. Why, even a dummy like me can see, would anyone want to synthesize the Bible with anything? What does the Bible lack that Aristotle brought to the table? The Bible is sufficient to tell us that the Bible is sufficient. We don’t need Aristotle, or Aquinas to remind us that at the end of the day we don’t need Aristotle or Aquinas. What we need is the Bible.
This propensity for mixing the Bible with our own wisdom did not die with Thomas. Because we are inveterate syncretists, we are inveterate synthesizers. We want to combine our philosophy with the Bible. We want to combine our political theories with the Bible. We want to combine our psychology with the Bible. We want to combine our economics with the Bible. And we want to combine our understanding of the business world. Of course we all ought to believe what the Bible says about each of these things. The trouble isn’t bringing the Bible to bear on questions of wisdom. The trouble isn’t asking what the Bibles tells us the state is called to do, nor asking what the Bible tells us about the human soul. The problem is mixing a body of “knowledge” built on an unbiblical worldview, and then trying to mesh that with the Bible.
Consider, for a moment, how little Scripture and how much psychology we have in the field of business. Consultants there are eager to tell us of the vital importance of developing a “vision,” of putting together a “mission statement.” While it is always good to know where we are going, it is always better to go back to the Bible. There we are told to mediate on the word of God. There we are told to seek out wisdom therein. What we are not told is to have a “mission statement.” If anything, we are given a mission statement- Seek first the kingdom of God, and His righteousness.
This is not merely Jesus’ mission statement. It is not merely my mission statement. It states the mission of all of us. Which means in turn that it states the mission of missions. This is what the church is to be about in every corner of the world. And when the church in one corner reaches out to aid the church in another, this is where that aid ought to be moving.
Paul reminds us in First Corinthians that the body of Christ is made up of different members. We have different callings under our one grand calling. His caution, however, is that too often we confuse our specific calling with God’s general calling. That is, we are seeking to build our own little kingdoms, rather than seeking His. When our peculiar mission is driven by our peculiarities rather than His one grand mission, we are upside down, and likely in the way. When we seek to syncretize our end with His, we miss our true mission.
Every Lord’s Day we do not worship alone. Instead we are lifted up into the true and eternal Mount Zion where we meet with the souls of just men made perfect (Hebrews 12:22-24). The church across the globe gathers together there. The Lord’s Day is like a celestial “wave” whereby as the earth spins on its axis the saints of God rise up to give Him praise.
We are not united, of course, by a common tongue. We do not share the exact same history (though we all have Abraham for our father). We are not of the same skin color. What unites us is our common faith. We confess the same Lord. We have the same mission. Together we are called to seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness. And together is the only way this will come to pass.
God has indeed given each of us a part to play, a little mission that works toward the single grand mission. The serpent, however, delights for us to confuse our part with the whole. Our glory, however, isn’t found in building up our little corner of the kingdom. Instead our glory grows only insofar as His kingdom grows. We must decrease, but He must increase. And as we die, so we live. In other words, when we seek first the kingdom, and His righteousness, all these things will be added to us. His kingdom is not only forever, but it is for every where. May He be pleased to give us eyes to see that Jesus shall reign where’er the sun does his successive journeys run. May we see His kingdom stretch from shore to shore, till moons shall wax and wane no more.
Yes and no. It is all too common among evangelicals who rightly believe the Spirit works in us, for us to use our own internal sense of peace, or a lack thereof, as our own personal moral guide when faced with moral choices. The sole reason this might be appropriate, however, has nothing whatever to do with whatever moral dilemma we might be facing and everything to do with a clear biblical principle- whatever is not of faith is sin (Romans 14:23). The principle here is simple enough- if we do something we believe to be wrong, even if it is not in itself wrong, we have done wrong. My lack of peace is a clear sign I think something a sin. If I go ahead and do it, I have sinned, even if my lack of peace was misguided. Suppose, for instance, that it is not a sin to play the card game Hearts. Suppose, however, that you have been taught that such is a sin. I invite you to play the game. You wrestle over the invitation, have no peace about playing, and join in anyway, you have sinned. Note carefully that even here it would not be that playing Hearts is a sin, even for you. Rather the sin is acting against your conscience.
This does not work, however, in the opposite direction. That is, your feeling of peace is not at all a sure sign that what you have done is moral. Suppose I am tempted to commit adultery. I assess my own internal sense of peace. I feel fine about committing adultery. So I commit adultery. I will, because adultery is wrong, stand guilty before the living God for my sin. My sense of peace not only does not undo the sinfulness of the sin, it actually makes it worse. That is, not only would I, in this situation, be an adulterer, but would be a shameless one as well. My peace about my sin would not make my sin less a sin but would expose a calloused and recalcitrant heart.
Our calling, contra the faux gospel of pop culture, isn’t to follow our hearts. Our calling is to have our hearts informed by, directed by, the clear and plain teaching of the Word of God. We do not ultimately stand on our conscience, but on the Word of God. We ask, when confronted with a difficult ethical question, not “What says my heart?” but “What says the Word?” It, remember, equips us for every good work (II Timothy 3:16). When we look to our hearts I fear either we are looking to excuse our sin, or looking to excuse our laziness in studying God’s revealed will in His Word.
A lack of peace may mean you need to repent. A sense of peace, however, doesn’t mean you don’t need to repent. Let’s stop trusting ourselves, our own wisdom, our own discernment, and be Berean about our own deceitful hearts. Trust in the Lord with all your heart, And lean not on your own understanding; In all your ways acknowledge Him, And He shall direct your paths (Proverbs 3:5).
