Praise and Thanksgiving

“Praise and Thanksgiving” (Arthur Bennett, ed., The Valley of Vision, 1975). 

O my God,

Thou fairest, greatest, first of all objects, my heart admires, adores, loves Thee, for my little vessel is as full as it can be, and I would pour out all that fullness before Thee in ceaseless flow.

When I think upon and converse with Thee, ten thousand delightful thoughts spring up, ten thousand sources of pleasure are unsealed, ten thousand refreshing joys spread over my heart, crowding into every moment of happiness.

I bless Thee for the soul Thou hast created, for adorning it, sanctifying it, though it is fixed in barren soil; for the body Thou hast given me, for preserving its strength and vigour, for providing sense to enjoy delights, for the ease and freedom of my limbs, for hands, eyes, ears that do Thy bidding; for Thy royal bounty providing my daily support, for a full table and overflowing cup, for appetite, taste, sweetness, for social joys of relatives and friends, for ability to serve others, for a heart that feels sorrow and necessities, for a mind to care for my fellow-men, for opportunities of spreading happiness around, for loved ones in the joys of heaven, for my own expectation of seeing Thee clearly.

I love Thee above the powers of language to express, for what Thou are to Thy creatures.

Increase my love, O my God, through time and eternity.

Only God Is Good

Only God Is Good.  It is a phrase we hear or say probably every day, “They are good people.” No doubt they are, horizontally, as compared to other people who are necessarily excluded from the good people category. Of those others we do not say, “They are bad people.” Politeness prohibits us from throwing light on the badness of other people, unless it is Hitler. Instead, we heap compliments upon the goodness of some people while ignoring the rest.

But an entirely different plane of goodness exists in the vertical sense toward God. Horizontal goodness (humans compared to humans) is relative whereas vertical goodness (God compared to humans) is absolute. On this difference between horizontal goodness and vertical goodness, Jesus interacts with the rich, young ruler. “And a ruler asked him, ‘Good Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?’ And Jesus said to him, ‘Why do you call me good? No one is good except God alone’” (Luke 18:18-19). Jesus often teaches on two levels.

Jesus was not denying his absolute, vertical goodness but highlighting the limitations of the man’s greeting, “Why do you call me good?” In other words, Jesus was drawing the man out by drilling down on his definition of good. “No one is good except God alone,” is Jesus’ cloaked assertion of his own deity. Jesus is good because he is God. But the man grasped neither the depth of what he was saying nor the identity of him to whom he was speaking.

The vast gap between horizontal goodness and vertical goodness is closed, not by the Law, but by a faith-relationship with the Lord. The man asked, “What must I do to inherit eternal life?” (vs. 18), in terms of keeping the Ten Commandments: “All these I have kept from my youth” (vs. 21). But the Lord replied, touching upon the elusive Tenth Commandment, “You shall not covet” (Exo. 20:17). Effectively, Jesus pressed that nerve exposed by coveting, “One thing you still lack. Sell all that you have and distribute to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; and come, follow me” (vs. 22).

With Jesus’ instruction, “One thing you still lack,” comes in a trio of commands all saying the same thing: “sell,” “distribute,” and “follow.” Thus, it is the following that the man lacks. A faith-relationship would have empowered and motivated this ruler to forsake his wealth, but not its inverse. Forsaking wealth does not inherit eternal life (vs. 18) but rather following Christ. “But when he heard these things, he became very sad, for he was extremely rich” (vs. 23).

We Wait Eagerly

We Wait Eagerly.  Summary is an artform. A slogan might suffice as an advertisement or on a give-away coffee mug, but a summary condenses into a few words the very essence of a large subject that would otherwise take volumes to explain. Summarization is a rare quality. A certain elegance exists in the balance of a thoughtful summary.

For instance, some anonymous enthusiast summarized all the delicate skill and cerebral strategy of soccer as “the Beautiful Game,” a phrase which Pelé popularized in his autobiography, My Life and the Beautiful Game (1977). Whatever else might be said about soccer, the Beautiful Game captures its essence. George Washington, in his first inaugural address (1789) summarized the founding of this new nation as “the American Experiment,” a reimagined Republic that was uniquely “entrusted to the hands of the American people.” Whatever else might be said about America, the American Experiment captures its essence. Donald Gray Barnhouse, who pastored Tenth Presbyterian Church in Philadelphia starting almost one hundred years ago, was known to repeat his summary of the gospel in three words, “God saves sinners.” The who, what, when, where, why, and how God saves sinners filled the 44 years he pastored that one church (1927-1960), all his sermons and books. Whatever else might be said about the gospel, God saves sinners captures its essence.

In truth, there are many legitimate ways to summarize the gospel, which may explain why we have such a hard time expressing it smoothly when we share with others “the reason for the hope that is in [us]” (1 Pet. 3:15). A sort of paralysis results from our hyper-abundance of excellent metaphors and analogies for the gospel. But I cannot call our scriptural treasury too many options. The gospel is never too much of anything, let alone anything negative. Probably what we lack is an understanding of our audience and the wisdom to know which gospel explanation will work best for them. Just to name a few: we can explain the gospel as a new birth, a legal vindication, a restored exile, an unpayable debt forgiven, a reversal of curse, an innocent victim triumphantly raised, a jilted lover’s reunion, a pair of prodigal brothers who were both lost to the father, only one of whom was found. But Paul in Romans 8 and 9, Galatians 4, and Ephesians 1 explains the gospel in terms of adoption, a fixture in Roman and Greek cultures. Adoption captures the essence of redemption.

Through the lens of adoption, one can see an overarching summary of the entire redemptive story: God’s grand creation, man’s grievous rebellion, Christ’s gracious pursuit, and the church’s great salvation. Therefore, summarizing this summary of the gospel, spiritual adoption is the full inclusion and unexpected elevation of the exile whom God transforms into a co-heir with Christ of the entire kingdom of God. The entire arc of “the adoption as sons” is a universal drama that the entire universe watches; “we wait eagerly” (Rom. 8:23).

Love Lustres at Calvary

“Love Lustres at Calvary” (Arthur Bennett, ed., The Valley of Vision, 1975)

My Father,

Enlarge my heart, warm my affections, open my lips, supply words that proclaim ‘Love lustres at Calvary.’ There grace removes my burdens and heaps them on thy Son, made a transgressor, a curse, and sin for me; there the sword of thy justice smote the man, thy fellow; there thy infinite attributes were magnified, and infinite atonement was made; there infinite punishment was due, and infinite punishment was endured.

Christ was all anguish that I might be all joy, cast off that I might be brought in, trodden down as an enemy that I might be welcomed as a friend, surrendered to hell’s worst that I might attain heaven’s best, stripped that I might be clothed, wounded that I might be healed, athirst that I might drink, tormented that I might be comforted, made a shame that I might inherit glory, entered darkness that I might have eternal light.

My Saviour wept that all tears might be wiped from my eyes, groaned that I might have endless song, endured all pain that I might have unfading health, bore a thorny crown that I might have a glory-diadem, bowed his head that I might uplift mine, experienced reproach that I might receive welcome, closed his eyes in death that I might gaze on unclouded brightness, expired that I might for ever live.

O Father, who spared not thine only Son that thou mightest spare me, all this transfer thy love designed and accomplished; help me to adore thee by lips and life. O that my every breath might be ecstatic praise, my every step buoyant with delight, as I see my enemies crushed, Satan baffled, defeated, destroyed, sin buried in the ocean of reconciling blood, hell’s gates closed, heaven’s portal open.

Go forth, O conquering God, and show me the cross, mighty to subdue, comfort and save.