You Are a Mist

You Are a Mist.  The Bible, often in concert with our own hearts, assigns humanity a full spectrum of names, stretching from debasement to exaltation. “I am a worm” (Psa. 22:6). “Wretched man that I am” (Rom. 7:24). “You have … crowned him with glory and honor” (Psa. 8:5). “See what kind of love the Father has given to us, that we should be called children of God; and so we are” (1 John 3:1).

Yet, somewhere in the middle zone of those extremely negative or positive names rests another description that could be negative and positive at the same time. “Come now, you who say, ‘Today or tomorrow we will go into such and such a town and spend a year there and trade and make a profit’—yet you do not know what tomorrow will bring. What is your life? For you are a mist that appears for a little time and then vanishes” (James 4:13-14). You are a mist, is hardly the punchline in any valedictorian’s speech or slick advertisement campaign. It is the advice of wisdom to youth: Don’t blink! It’s gone before you know it!

Smoke, vapor, breath, mist—the imagery is vivid. Whichever translation is used, the point is clear: transience. Saying to humankind, You are a mist, is a great equalizer. Men, women, rich, poor, high, low, You are more than nothing yet less than something. A brief fog rolled off the river yesterday morning at dawn, filling the low-lying areas with a wispy veil. It was beautiful. It gave the thirsty forest a taste of moisture. It caused motorists to turn on their low beam headlights and ease off the accelerator. A few minutes later, the sun burned through the fog and the temperature started rising through the 70s and 80s into the 90s by 2:00 pm. The mist was not nothing, but it was not something. It was briefly undeniable and unavoidable, but inconsequential outside the narrow task that God designed it to complete, whether it was meant for brief beauty, slight alleviation of drought, or forcing hurried people to slow down and pay closer attention at the junction where Pecan Road meets Arrington Bridge Road.

James makes a solid point for all humans considering the transience of all humans, but he wasn’t the first. Job knew it, “My life is a breath” (Job 7:7). Moses knew it, “So teach us to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom” (Psa. 90:12). David knew it, “O Lord, make me know my end and what is the measure of my days; let me know how fleeting I am!” (Psa. 39:4). Jesus knew it, “One's life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions. (Luke 12:15). James gleans practical advice from accepting his limits. Instead of making firm plans as if the future depended solely upon a master plan or work ethic, wisdom should leave margin for what is unknown. “Instead you ought to say, ‘If the Lord wills, we will live and do this or that’” (James 4:15). This instruction is not meant to be a mantra, that if we say these words formulaically, then we are in the clear. This instruction is meant to be a worldview that makes plans with baked-in reverence and pre-planned flexibility to defer to God’s pleasure.

The Sum of Your Word Is Truth

The Sum of Your Word Is Truth.  The Bible was in world news again this week. The media intake of the 21^st century is dominated by tweets, swipes, memes, and watching other people play video games, yet this ancient Book, originally written in foreign languages, is still making news. That is remarkable, especially considering the centuries of opposition to the Bible.

For instance, during the height of the Enlightenment era, French philosopher and humanist, Voltaire (1694-1778), who might have been remembered for his excellent fiction, such as Candide (1759), became more known for his disbelief in Christianity, calling it “infamous superstition.” Voltaire vehemently opposed the Scriptures in his writings. “The Bible,” he wrote in his Philosophical Dictionary (1764), “that is what fools have written, what imbeciles commend, what rogues teach and young children are made to learn by heart.” Two years before his death, Voltaire made a foolish prediction, “A hundred years from my death the Bible will be a museum piece.” However, God in his providence, within fifty years after Voltaire’s death, made Voltaire a museum piece, his house used by the Evangelical Society of Geneva, his own printing press used to print the Bible and gospel tracts. “The sum of your word is truth, and every one of your righteous rules endures forever” (Psa. 119:160).

By itself, the new news that the Bible made this week is miniscule. Even still, if a pebble adds to the mountain of evidence that biblical archeology provides, then it is another net increase. A New Testament manuscript from the 6^th century, known as Codex H, was “lost to history when it was disassembled … in the 13^th century. Its pages were re-inked and reused as binding material and flyleaves for multiple other manuscripts” (biblearcheology.org). Like a sophisticated version of using Silly Putty® to pick up a reverse image of the Sunday funnies, researchers from Glasgow University used multispectral imagining to recover 42 pages of “ghost text” of Paul’s letters under layers of ink and dye of other old books.

Nothing new was gleaned about the biblical text from Codex H, but that is the most remarkable part of biblical archeology. Each new archeological finding continues to confirm and affirm what we already have is credible and complete. At Glasgow, the “ghost text” mainly showed how the biblical text has been divided into chapters and verses over the years by the scholars, functionally scribal notes in the margins of the manuscript evidence. “The recovered text provides the earliest known examples of chapters for Paul’s epistles, which differ from modern chapter divisions.” No other book has yielded such bounty while enduring such scrutiny; even its margins further marginalize its scoffers.

Like a Weaned Child with its Mother

 

Like a Weaned Child with its Mother.  Mother’s Day is the second Sunday in May, a national holiday since 1914 (five full years before the 19^th Amendment to the US Constitution gave women the right to vote in 1919). Father’s Day is the third Sunday in June, a national holiday since 1972. The establishments of these two holidays curiously follow the date that Hallmark® opened for business, January 10, 1910, fueling speculation that businesses caused a sympathetic itch in the American psyche which they then offered to scratch for a fee. Regardless of the endless loop of conspiracy theories, motherhood (and fatherhood) is sacred. Long before Hallmark® cards and federal holidays, God fundamentally shocked the ancient world when he wrote with his own finger (Exo. 31:18) the fourth commandment which demanded: “Honor your father and your mother” (Exo. 20:12). Fathers were ever esteemed, but God afforded equal status to mothers in the institution of family. This was nothing less than scandalous in an otherwise overtly patriarchal world.

But appreciating the softer side of motherhood does not require a rule etched in stone. Children usually, naturally, reach for Mommy long before they call out for Daddy. God, of course, is the supreme example for both genders being the direct Creator of each. While he intentionally and consistently assigns himself with the masculine pronoun and squarely takes the Father role in Scripture, he nevertheless exhibits all the tenderness we normally associate with motherhood, too. It is theologically imprecise and morally unwise to say that gender doesn’t matter to God since it was he who established the genders as distinct yet harmonious in his ideal created order, “Male and female he created them” (Gen. 1:27). This fact Jesus reaffirmed by quoting Genesis 1:27 in Matthew 19:4 and Mark 10:6. Even when Paul instructed that gender, social class, economic status, and ethnicity no longer apply to acceptance into the kingdom or unity with one another, “There is neither male and female for you are all one in Christ Jesus” (Gal. 3:28), gender distinction was never unilaterally scrubbed from God’s ideal plan. Paul in the same passage continued to refer directly to distinctly female roles: “woman” (Gal. 4:4), “women” (Gal. 4:24), “mother,” (Gal. 4:26), and “wife” (Gal. 4:27).

However, David draws upon the honorable ministry of motherhood in instructing Israel to be content in the Lord. “O Lord, my heart is not lifted up; my eyes are not raised too high; I do not occupy myself with things too great and too marvelous for me. But I have calmed and quieted my soul, like a weaned child with its mother; like a weaned child is my soul within me. O Israel, hope in the Lord from this time forth and forevermore” (Psa. 131:1-3). Notably, within David’s image, he calms and quiets his own soul as an expression of spiritual maturity and self-control. In life, the mother usually calms and quiets the weaned child, not through feeding but through relational bonding. The child does not want anything more than to be with Mommy, mirroring the mother’s calm and quiet temperament. The Lord is happy and unhurried; when we are content in the Lord, we resemble and reflect his nature in our nature.

Jesus Christ Is the Same

Jesus Christ Is the Same.  Variety is the spice of life, we say. Changing up the routine is healthy, we believe. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy, we recite. While those statements are superficially plausible, are they theologically true? To answer that question, we must first navigate one of the chief distortions (i.e., deceptions) in the world of ideas, that sameness is boring. Its corollary is that sin is thrilling. An illustration of this chief distortion is the false view of heaven where each saint sits half-asleep on a cloud, strumming a harp forever. However, in view of the theological concept of God’s sameness, perfection is not monotonous but infinitely creative, joyful, blessed, and free. God is most free because he is most holy! Because he doesn’t change in his essence, he can change his activity as he wills.

Without divine help, since we cannot imagine perfection, the best we can do is enlarge our view of self, projecting it upon God. Because we get easily bored within our limitations, and since sin gives us a temporary sensation of escape, we naturally imagine a god within those finitudes. We make that god in our image, so to speak. Yet with divine help, we learn from the Scriptures that perfection is endlessly magnificent. “I, the Lord, do not change” (Mal. 3:16a). Thus, the sameness of God becomes the foundation for our assurance that the promises of God will play out exactly as foretold. “Therefore you, O children of Jacob, are not consumed” (Mal. 3:6b). God’s sameness is solid, unmoving, trustworthy, a sure foundation. “Behold, I am the one who has laid as a foundation in Zion, a stone, a tested stone, a precious cornerstone, of a sure foundation: ‘Whoever believes will not be in haste’” (Isa. 28:16).

Sameness is one of the ways that God is unlike humans. Humans change, but God does not. Only God can be rightfully described as immutable, or unchangeable. Thus, when we read, “Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today, and forever” (Heb. 13:8), we learn that Jesus is God. Even though he became a man, suffered, died, and was resurrected, his essence never changed. His activities changed, but his nature did not. Therefore, our confidence in his promises is sure.

So then, is sameness boring? No! Sameness, if it is an expression of perfection, is never boring because perfection doesn’t improve and cannot decrease, a divine characteristic. If sameness is an expression of imperfection, then it is limited, flawed, and stunted, a human characteristic.

All in All

All in All.  The limitation of language meets the greatness of God in the study of systemic theology. God reveals his nature with inspired words, yet he exists essentially beyond the true words he uses to describe himself. His revelation is accurate but not comprehensive because God is categorically unfathomable (Rom. 11:33). To capture the infinite beyond-ness of God theologians have resorted to using words such as omnipotent, omniscient, and omnipresent to explain God’s perfect attributes. God is all powerful. God is all knowing. God is everywhere present. Yet, these omni— words, too, are finite expressions of infinite attributes.

In addition to the omni— words, the Lord is also … all good (Psa. 86:5), all glorious (Psa. 99:2), all faithful (Psa. 100:5), all kind and just (Psa. 145:9), all sovereign (Psa. 145:13), all righteous (Psa. 145:17), all wise (Rom. 16:27), all gracious (2 Cor. 9:8), “who gives life to all things” (1 Tim. 6:13). “Christ who is God over all, [is] blessed forever” (Rom. 9:5). He “who fills all in all” (Eph. 1:23) is “far above all rule and authority and power and dominion, and above every name that is named, not only in this age but also in the one to come” (Eph 1:21). He is “in everything … preeminent, for in him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell” (Col. 1:18-19). “Jesus Christ is Lord of all” (Acts 10:36).

And, in addition to all the all statements, the Lord is also called “a man of war” (Exo. 15:3). “The Lord is a God of knowledge” (1 Sam. 2:3). “God is a consuming fire” (Deut. 4:24; Heb. 12:29). “God is a merciful God” (Deut. 4:31). “God is a righteous judge” (Psa. 7:11). “The Lord is a stronghold” (Psa. 9:9). “God is a refuge” (Psa. 62:8; Joel 3:16). “God is a God of salvation” (Psa. 68:20). “God is a sun and shield” (Psa. 84:11). “The Lord is a great God” (Psa. 95:3). “The Lord is a God of justice” (Isa. 30:18). “The Lord is a God of recompense” (Jer. 51:56). “The Lord is a jealous and avenging God” (Nah. 1:2).

Our Lord is all of that, and more, all the time. “Now to him who is able to do far more abundantly than all that we ask or think” (Eph. 3:20).

The Love of God Is Folly

The Love of God Is Folly.  Well worth acquiring, though it may require a double effort to catch the meaning, is the traditional Pascale (e.g., Easter) greeting in France: “L'amour de Dieu est folie!” The love of God is folly. Wait a second, is that a good saying or a bad saying?

Were French people ridiculing the death and resurrection of Christ? No, they were not; they were celebrating the unpredictable, unthinkable path of redemption that Christ accomplished. So unpredictable, so unthinkable was the death of Jesus to deliver humankind from the grip of death that most people dismissed his great love as foolishness and absurdity. Sacrificial substitution seems nonsensical at first and unsophisticated to natural man. Surely, God would not die; how ludicrous! Yet, God’s so-called folie is man’s unlooked-for hope.

The world insists that nothing comes for nothing, that there is no such thing as free lunch; that you get what you pay for. To be fair, in this dog-eat-dog world such a conclusion is usually accurate. To believe otherwise would be foolish, they say. But Jesus didn’t come from this world. He came to this world, but he comes from heaven. This world is upside-down. The only right side-up part about this world is that God created it and loves us, despite our sin.

When Jesus arrived, humanity concluded since he seemed so backward that he deserved death, though it was we who were backward all along. When Jesus healed, humanity concluded that he must be in league with the devil. When Jesus spoke, humanity concluded that he must be a lunatic. When Jesus died, humanity concluded that he must be cursed by God. When Jesus rose again, just as he predicted, and “he appeared to Cephas, then to the twelve. Then he appeared to more than five hundred brothers at one time, most of whom are still alive, though some have fallen asleep. Then he appeared to James, then to all the apostles. Last of all, as to one untimely born, he appeared also to me [Paul]” (1 Cor. 15:5-8), humanity concluded that it was a hoax. If the love of God is foolishness, then count me a fool!

Sigmund Freud, the father of psychoanalysis, famously hated Christianity. Worse than folly, he labeled it a “psychological crutch,” a childhood neurosis and wish projection into the sky. But, as my Christology professor in seminary retorted, “If Christianity is a crutch, then give me two.” All that and more is wrapped up in the saying, L'amour de Dieu est folie! The love of God is folly. “For since, in the wisdom of God, the world did not know God through wisdom, it pleased God through the folly of what we preach to save those who believe” (1 Cor. 1:21).

The Lord Has Need of It

The Lord Has Need of It.  Underscoring Christ’s humility, who entered Jerusalem on a donkey instead of a war horse, is the easily overlooked detail that the donkey he rode was borrowed. His Majesty, King Jesus, could have legitimately confiscated any donkey or horse that he desired, since: “The earth is the Lord's and the fullness thereof” (Psa. 24:1). Or, Christ could have materialized inside any locked palace skipping all modes of travel. No, never—Jesus showed common courtesy to the donkey’s owner through his disciples: “If anyone says to you, ‘Why are you doing this?’ say, ‘The Lord has need of it and will send it back here immediately’” (Mark 11:3). It is apparent from cross-references that two donkeys were involved: mother and foal. Jesus wanted the young one (John 12:14), “on which no one has ever yet sat (Luke 19:30), and so arranged for the mother to join: “Untie them and bring them to me” (Matt. 21:2). Jesus’ head would have barely raised above the standing crowd.

“And they went away and found a colt tied at a door outside in the street, and they untied it. And some of those standing there said to them, ‘What are you doing, untying the colt?’” (Mark 11:4-5). Conceivably, the animal’s caretakers balked for many reasons: untying the (untrained) colt, potentially separating a baby from its mother, allowing a stranger to borrow livestock, and proceeding without a formalized contract. While it is impossible to determine the subtle tone of the dialogue about the donkey, since merely the summary of it is included in each of the four Gospel accounts, one thing remains clear: although Jesus was courteous, he was not technically asking permission. The most forceful factor for lending the animal(s) seemed to be the word of the Lord. “And they told them what Jesus had said, and they let them go” (Mark 11:6). Is Jesus asking? In that case borrow the animal, of course, right away!

Assistance to walk the two miles between Jerusalem and the villages of Bethphage and Bethany on the Mount of Olives was not why Jesus borrowed the colt. He had walked that path many times before in his life; footing it seemed to be what Jesus did most in his three-year public ministry. The donkey had another deeply symbolic and significant role to play that day. Precisely because it was less than a horse (Deut. 17:16), a mule is what both David and Solomon rode into Jerusalem when their time came to present themselves publicly as king (1 Kings 1:38). Yet different than a mule, a young donkey is lower still. As a sign, the Messiah will ride into Jerusalem explicitly on a donkey when his time comes to present himself publicly as king (Zech. 9:9), accompanied not by soldiers but by singers and children. Jesus will not need the donkey twice that day, or ever again! Next time he will ride “a white horse” (Rev. 19:11).