And Lead Us Not into Temptation

And Lead Us Not into Temptation.  “Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name” (Matt. 6:9), is the famous beginning of the Lord’s Prayer. It staggers the mind to calculate how many times that prayer has been prayed since Christ’s seismic reordering of practical righteousness in the Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 5-7; Luke 6, 11). However, the ending of the Lord’s Prayer has been consistently confusing, “And lead us not into temptation” (Matt. 6:13; Luke 11:4). The words themselves are not the confusing part of the prayer, but its theology for navigating temptation. Is God at all complicit in setting us up for moral failure? Absolutely not! We are instructed very clearly that God tempts no one. “Let no one say when he is tempted, "I am being tempted by God," for God cannot be tempted with evil, and he himself tempts no one” (James 1:13). We carry the raw ingredients for temptation around with us; sin does not ever originate with God (1 John 1:5). So then, why pray “lead us not into temptation”?

Principally, there are two keywords to interpret and interconnect: “lead” and “temptation.” Yet the definition of temptation unlocks the mystery of God’s lead. Temptation and testing share the same Greek word. Temptation is clearly negative in tone; testing is clearly positive. God doesn’t lead us into a temptation, but into the test where temptation waits. It is a huge distinction! In this sense, the Spirit drove Jesus into the wilderness “to be tempted by the devil” (Matt. 4:1). God led Jesus into the wilderness, but the tempter brought the temptation to the Son of God. In another similar verse, “Watch and pray that you may not enter into temptation. The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak” (Matt. 26:41). Temptation comes from the world, the flesh, and the devil, but God declares “the testing of your faith produces steadfastness” (James 1:3).

A masterful explanation given by D. Martyn Lloyd-Jones ties up the loose pieces. “We are asking that we should never be led into a situation where we are liable to be tempted by Satan. It does not mean that we are dictating to God what He shall or shall not do. God does test His children, and we must never presume to tell God what He is or is not to do. He knows that we need much training in our preparation for glory. But though it does not mean that we are to dictate to God, it does mean that we may request of Him, that if it be in accordance with His holy will, He should not lead us into positions where we can be so easily tempted, and where we are liable to fall. It means that we should request Him to preserve us from this, and not to lead us in this way. This is what our Lord meant when He said to His disciples at the end, ‘Watch and pray, that ye enter not into temptation’ (Matt. 26:14)’” (D. Martyn Lloyd-Jones, Studies in the Sermon on the Mount, p. 349).

Flee These Things

Flee These Things.  The Continental Army, led by General George Washington, had suffered a lopsided loss at the Battle of Brooklyn. They found themselves pinned between the East River and the world’s superpower of that era, Britain. Under the leadership of British General Sir William Howe, the Redcoats were preparing a siege that would annihilate the overpowered and cornered Patriots. But that evening, August 29, 1776, Washington adapted. Lighting but then abandoning their campfires, the soldiers retreated toward the river under the cover of night. There, with skillful help from a regiment of fishermen from Massachusetts who muffled the noise of their oars with rags, Washington began ferrying 9,000 soldiers and all their equipment to safety under Howe’s very nose. When daylight arrived, though the maneuver was not yet complete, thick fog rolled in, preventing British cannons from sinking Washington’s makeshift flotilla. By retreating across the East River from Brooklyn to Manhattan that night, the Americans survived to fight another day and eventually won the War of Independence. New York was not the goal; independence was the goal. Sometimes a retreat is progress.

However, organizing and executing a large-scale retreat is one of the most difficult tasks a military leader can attempt. Without discipline and calm, the soldiers could easily scatter, thus alerting the enemy. Without leadership and cohesion, the soldiers could also easily lose their formation, thus trampling over their compatriots in a panic to escape. Retreating requires self-control in the moment and trust in the plan. Retreating is the pursuit of a better goal.

Joseph, a prince of Israel who became a slave in Egypt, might have reached the same conclusion as Washington: sometimes a retreat is progress. Sold by his jealous brothers to slavers, Joseph was sold again to Potiphar, an officer of Pharaoh (Gen. 39:1). After Joseph earned Potiphar’s trust, Potiphar’s wife repeatedly attempted to seduce Joseph. In fact, she commanded it! But each time, though he could not flee the scene completely, Joseph fled her pursuit (Gen. 39:12, 13, 15, 18). She finally caught Joseph’s garment and repeated her command: “But he left his garment in her hand and fled and got out of the house” (Gen. 39:12). Potiphar’s wife quickly changed her tactic with Joseph’s tunic in hand, accusing him of attempted rape (Gen. 39:15). Despite being thrown into prison, Joseph’s retreat proved to be progress. Escaping Potiphar’s house was not the goal; pleasing God was the goal. After retreating from Potiphar’s wife, Joseph soon became Potiphar’s boss (Gen. 41:43).

The very word, “flee,” that summarizes Joseph’s ultimate victory over temptation, is used by Paul several times in the New Testament. “Flee sexual immorality” (1 Cor. 6:18). “Flee idolatry” (1 Cor. 10:14). “Flee these things” (e.g., the love of money; 1 Tim. 6:11). “Flee youthful passions” (2 Tim. 2:22). Sometimes a retreat is progress toward a better goal: godliness. 

Train Yourself for Godliness (Part Four)

Train Yourself for Godliness (Part Four).  Only a handful of verses speak even vaguely about leading a group through its spiritual development stages. The author of Hebrews nearly scolds the Jerusalem church for its prolonged immaturity: “For though by this time you ought to be teachers, you need someone to teach you again the basic principles of the oracles of God. You need milk, not solid food, for everyone who lives on milk is unskilled in the word of righteousness, since he is a child” (Heb. 5:12-13).

The Apostle John seems to indicate that there are several stages concurrent within each congregation: little children, children, young men, and fathers. “I am writing to you, little children, because your sins are forgiven for his name's sake. I am writing to you, fathers, because you know him who is from the beginning. I am writing to you, young men, because you have overcome the evil one. I write to you, children, because you know the Father. I write to you, fathers, because you know him who is from the beginning. I write to you, young men, because you are strong, and the word of God abides in you, and you have overcome the evil one” (1 John 2:12-14).

If the seven churches in Revelation are allowed to be somewhat allegorical, in addition to being actual and historical congregations, then each church situation could conceivably represent a different developmental stage: Christ can technically be in a church but no longer that church’s “first love” (Rev. 2:4). A church might be weakened due to its doctrinal confusion (Rev. 2:14-16) or corrupted due to its moral degradation (Rev. 2:20-21). A church may nurse a reputation for life while it is dead (Rev. 3:1). A church could be victorious despite being viciously opposed (Rev. 3:8). Christ is nauseated by the type of church that is so accommodating to the world that it has become non-distinct, neither hot nor cold (Rev. 3:16). Especially ironic, Christ could be functionally outside the church that he established with his blood, knocking at the door for re-entry (Rev. 3:20). Taken together, a loose spectrum somewhat emerges for a congregational lifespan, ascending from young and passionate, to growing though tested, to established yet cool, then descending from codified yet corrupt, to orderly yet compromised, to reputational yet dead, to institutional and unchristian. Congregations come and go, but of the church Christ said, “I will build my church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it” (Matt. 16:18).

Train Yourself for Godliness (Part Three)

Train Yourself for Godliness (Part Three).  Of all the sociological models of human development, none are sufficient at depicting the spiritual growth of a Christian. Whether the indigenous Wheel of Life model (Maiden, Mother, Mage, Crone), Aristotle’s Three Stages of Man (Youth, Prime of Life, Old Age), Hippocrates’ Seven Stages of Life which Shakespeare put into As You Like It (Infant, Schoolboy, Lover, Soldier, Judge, Pantaloon, Second Childhood), or Erik Erikson’s standardized Stages of Psychosocial Development (Childhood, Adolescence, Adulthood), all these theories of development are linear, flattened, and intentionally non-religious. However, a Christian’s individual spiritual growth and a congregation’s collective spiritual growth are progressive and participatory, though not precisely formulaic.

Nevertheless, a faint sketch emerges in the Bible of the spiritual growth of individual Christians and local congregations. With some effort, landmarks and causeways on the spiritual map to maturity appear. “A disciple is not above his teacher, but everyone when he is fully trained will be like his teacher” (Luke 6:40). “When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I gave up childish ways” (1 Cor. 13:11). “And we all, with unveiled face, beholding the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another” (2 Cor. 3:18). “So then, the law was our guardian until Christ came, in order that we might be justified by faith. But now that faith has come, we are no longer under a guardian, for in Christ Jesus you are all sons of God, through faith” (Gal. 3:24-26). “[Build] up the body of Christ, until we all attain to the unity of the faith and of the knowledge of the Son of God, to mature manhood, to the measure of the stature of the fullness of Christ, so that we may no longer be children” (Eph. 4:12-14). “Have nothing to do with irreverent, silly myths. Rather train yourself for godliness” (1 Tim. 4:7).

The training vocabulary that Paul lifts from the culture and repurposes for discipleship (Greek, gymnazo, like English, gymnasium) is a fixture in the Greco-Roman world. The ancients valued highly physical training. However, Paul speaks of a different kind of training at a different kind of gymnasium. “For while bodily training is of some value, godliness is of value in every way, as it holds promise for the present life and also for the life to come” (1 Tim. 4:8).

Train Yourself for Godliness (Part Two)

Train Yourself for Godliness (Part Two).  Jack Nicklaus, affectionately nicknamed “The Golden Bear” by his fans, was the consummate golfer in his generation, perhaps his century. Inducted into golf’s Hall of Fame in 1974, he toured professionally for over 30 years, winning 117 PGA tournaments, including 18 Major tournaments, several times winning at the Masters, PGA Championship, US Open, and Open Championship. 

I’ve never played a single hole in my life, yet I still know about Jack Nicklaus and his humility. In 1950, at 10 years old in Columbus, Ohio, Nicklaus began his mentorship with golf instructor Jack Grout. In 1962 when Nicklaus turned professional, and every year after throughout his legendary career, he would return to his mentor, Jack Grout, before the PGA season started and say, “Teach me how to play golf.” The swing, the grip, the aim, the ball—Nicklaus already knew and practiced these foundational elements—yet he approached the game afresh annually as if he were a newbie. Nicklaus was always training.

Nicklaus’ story looms large in my mind as we stand at the new church year, focusing not on his game but on his mindset. “Teach me how to follow Jesus,” could be our prayer of convocation, similar to David’s mindset when he prays: “Lead me to the rock that is higher than I” (Psa. 61:2); “Make me to know your ways, O Lord; teach me your paths” (Psa. 25:4).

I am convinced that we do not need something new, sophisticated, or sensational. Everything tried in the last three decades that has been marketed as new, sophisticated, and sensational has ended up on the thrift store shelf, once mass-produced only to be discarded and discounted to twenty-five cents for paperback and fifty cents for hardback. (Just think: The Prayer of Jabez or Left Behind). Instead of that, and though we have never left, we need to return to the timeless, changeless cross of Christ, praying, “Teach me how to follow Jesus.”

Following Jesus impacts at least these few categories: we need to know Christ deeply, love God and others authentically, and serve the world purposefully. Christians in every location and throughout all generations have walked this humble pathway to the cross of Christ; a metaphorical pilgrimage to our spiritual origin and a lens to envision our spiritual destination.

Train Yourself for Godliness (Part One)

Train Yourself for Godliness (Part One).  Baseball is calm, swimming is smooth, tennis is polite, soccer is theater, but in the South, football is king. Every year from September to December (and if you’re fortunate, then January, too), all Friday nights are high school football game nights. Saturdays are college football tailgate events. Sundays are professional-level grid-iron contests. Although football is arguably a silly game—since pads are required because the human body was not designed to collide at full speed into another human body, since oxygen is available after every play, and since there are far more timeouts than touchdowns—it requires intense physical training.

Football did not exist in Bible times, but other sports did. If ancient citizens were blessed with enough time between fighting actual wars and were rich enough to buy from other people’s farm labor, they frequently competed in running, wrestling, boxing, and other athletics that we would probably classify as Track and Field. Sports were very popular in the first century, so physical training was very common. The ancients even built dedicated arenas for training called gymnasiums, which we obviously carried forward into our modern setting.

The Bible, especially Paul’s letters, uses athletic imagery with largely positive overtones. One such passage where athletic imagery is heavy is 1 Timothy 4:6-8, but Paul mixes his wide appreciation for sport with a sharp parody for the gospel opponents who have strangely mixed rigorous training (though not exclusively athletic training) with religion. They were called the Ascetics. Ascetical beliefs (wrongly) reasoned that severe physical treatment of the body, which was assumed to be evil, could impart real benefit for the soul, which was assumed to be good. Elements of asceticism—strict fasting, certain abstinences, dietary restrictions, extreme frugality, and even self-harm—could be found inside major philosophical camps such as the Stoics, Epicureans, Pythagoreans, Neo-Platonists, as well as Jewish mystics and early Christian monastics. Yet, Paul fought to keep the gospel distinct from all asceticism.

“Being trained in the words of the faith and of the good doctrine that you have followed, have nothing to do with irreverent, silly myths. Rather train yourself for godliness; for while bodily training is of some value, godliness is of value in every way, as it holds promise for the present life and also for the life to come” (1 Tim. 4:6-8). Preaching the gospel and teaching sound doctrine contrasts with promoting irreverent “speculations” (1 Tim. 1:10) and promulgating silly myths (any tradition or narrative that is outside and contrary to the Bible). Paul uses sarcasm to cut down ascetic practices, which massively overemphasize “bodily training,” by calling their main doctrine little, slight, with only marginal benefit. Instead of overestimating the body, “Train yourself for godliness [which] is of value in every way” (1 Tim. 4:8).

Salt and Light (Part Three)

Salt and Light (Part Three).  In the contiguous United States, Big Bend National Park in southwest Texas is the least polluted area in terms of ambient light. It is classified as a Dark Sky Reserve. On the 1 to 9 numeric Bortle Scale of Dark-Sky, only a handful of places in the “Lower 48” earn a rating of 1, the darkest measurement, so dark that the Milky Way itself casts shadows on Earth. Goldsboro, NC, scores 5.5; Raleigh is 8.3. As expected, New York City, Chicago, and Los Angeles each peg at 9 where the dark-sky rating maxes out.

Except for Rome in 133 bc which was the first city in history to reach a million inhabitants, a feat not repeated until London reached the million-mark in 1801, the entire ancient world would have been rated as Bortle 1, a completely dark night sky. Antiquity’s best lamps would have been dim at best. The darker the environment, the more impactful the light is.

It is conceivable that, in the historical past, any light source in a direct sightline during nighttime, whether campfire or candle, would have been visible for miles. An elevated light source would have been a looming, welcoming beacon for travelers. Most early cities in the Mediterranean Rim were elevated, and most walls and houses would have been constructed with white limestone. The white surfaces, which help reflect the heat during the day, would also reflect the moon and stars during the night, making the city to stand-out against the darkness like a nearly luminous landmark. Likewise, the white limestone construction could help fill the inside of those houses by diffusing the small light cast by fist-sized, clay lamps.

Alluding strongly back to Isaiah 42:6 and 49:6, Jesus grabs this light imagery as he teaches the people about the large impact that individual godliness has on its community. “You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden. Nor do people light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on a stand, and it gives light to all in the house” (Matt. 5:14-15).

Visibility is the point; a little light goes a long way in the dark as a city set on a hill and as a lamp set upon a lampstand. But such visibility is for others to see better, not for the limelight to be seen better by others. The purpose of godliness in the form of good works is that others will see and celebrate God, the true source of all the light reflected by his people scattered about in society. “In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father who is in heaven” (Matt. 5:16). Thus, being light in the world is worship of God and service to neighbor.

Salt and Light (Part Two)

Salt and Light (Part Two).  In the ancient world, salt was very valuable. Where it could be mined from the earth, it was often compounded with other minerals and less usable. Thus, calling someone “the salt of the earth” was a compliment because salt was rare to find. Therefore, salt was often extracted from the sea before the innovation of modern industrial techniques.

Ocean water has a salt content (salinity) of roughly 3.5%. So, the math says that every quart of saltwater holds about half a teaspoon of salt. Evaporating saltwater to leave behind only salt crystals requires a lot of expense! The ancient historian Pliny recorded that the Roman government would sometimes pay its soldiers in salt instead of physical coins, giving a source to our word salary. As such, when a soldier did not perform his duties, others might say of him, “He is not worth his salt.” In remote, inland areas salt was more valuable than gold.

In the Scriptures, salt had three purposes which figuratively illustrate the impact of godliness in the community. Salt is a preservative, a flavor enhancer, and a sacrifice. Christians generally have a positive influence on society.

Because of the lack of refrigeration, salt was useful to preserve food. Redeemed citizens have a similar effect on their culture; like salt rubbed into meat and fish, they prolong the good elements while warding off the evil elements for the community. Redeemed inhabitants also play a role of “flavor enhancer” in their cultures. “Let your speech always be gracious, seasoned with salt” (Col. 4:6) is an idiom that Paul borrowed from the world, meaning pleasant, flavorful, and refined.

Finally, redeemed people in the nation of Israel also had a tie to the salt used in the sacrificial system. “You shall season all your grain offerings with salt” (Lev. 2:13). To add salt was to add personal investment and value to the act of worship. Yet even that imagery could become corrupted when the required salt in a sacrifice became merely a performance and a hypocrisy. If “the salt has lost its saltiness” (Mark 9:49), then it has detoured from its original purpose to such an extent that it was no longer acceptable. Rabbinical literature said that unsuitable salt was good for nothing but to be thrown out on wet pavement for a little traction (i.e., “trampled underfoot” [Matt. 7:6; Luke 8:5; 21:24]). “Salt is good, but if salt has lost its taste, how shall its saltiness be restored? It is of no use either for the soil or for the manure pile. It is thrown away. He who has ears to hear, let him hear” (Luke 14:34-35).

Salt and Light (Part One)

Salt and Light (Part One).  Teachers going back into their classrooms for another year, tradesmen going back to their worksites after another weekend, managers going back into their offices after another week, parents/grandparents going back to their tasks of drop-offs and pick-ups after another summer break—these and all other work-a-day applications deserve some encouragement in the mid-August ramp-up to fall. Is it worth it? Do I make a difference? Will I last another year? Yes, it is worth it! Yes, you make a difference? Yes, you can last another year!

In the genius Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 5-7), before completely shattering the status quo of cultural and ritualistic religion, Jesus gave a lot of love to the ordinary people of faith. If read straight through, the Sermon was probably less than 30 minutes long. Yet in those 30 minutes, the pompous legalists with tassels on their robes and hats on their heads who crowed about all things moral in Israel (e.g., the religious rulers, especially the Pharisees) were forever exposed as the public antagonists to Jesus’ gospel of the kingdom. To the simple folk who minded their own business, who loved God and obeyed the commandments as best as they knew how, Jesus gave unprecedented attention.

“You are the salt of the earth, but if salt has lost its taste, how shall its saltiness be restored? It is no longer good for anything except to be thrown out and trampled under people's feet. You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden. Nor do people light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on a stand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father who is in heaven” (Matt. 5:13-16).

Ordinary people of faith have an extraordinary impact upon every environment they touch. Employing two strong metaphors, salt and light, Jesus elevates the positive impact that every individual worshiper has on his or her sphere, at the expense of the professional religious elites whose impact was only negative, null, and void.

Taken together, salt and light both provide something that the natural environment needs but does not have. The earth has salt in its hills and oceans, but it takes intellect and industry to extract it and process it into useable forms. The earth has reflective and combustible properties in its minerals and ores, but it takes innovation and precision to convert it safely into lamps and slow burning oils. “Being salt and light is less about what Christians do and more about what Christians are. If we have been truly transformed by the salvation of the Lord, this transformation will bear fruit in out lives. We will season the world with the demonstrations of the fruit of the Spirit in our lives, and we will shine the light of the Truth in a dark world, reflecting the glory of God (Steve Curtis, ”Serving God as Salt and Light,” Growing in Grace, Workshop Four, p. 111).

Fully Trained

Fully Trained.  Like a sailor’s soundings that bounce (or don’t bounce) off the seafloor, our spiritual questions (even if unanswered) help us orient to our largely invisible spiritual topography. How deep is the water? At what rate is its depth decreasing or increasing? For which harbor are we aiming? Which landmarks exist along the way, and where? How will we know when we have made measurable progress? What factors or qualities must be present by the time we arrive? Spiritual growth is highly navigational in practice. 

Therefore, it is no surprise that Paul uses nautical terminology and imagery to describe and instruct us toward spiritual maturity. “No longer be children, tossed to and fro by the waves and carried about by every wind of doctrine, by human cunning, by craftiness in deceitful schemes” (Eph. 4:14). The weather doesn’t drive the boat just as surely as the wooden bowsprit fastened to the foremast doesn’t lead the crew; the captain leads the crew with his hand on the rudder and the map nearly memorized in his mind.

Yet, steering is only a slice of the captain’s job; his primary responsibility is “to equip the saints for the work of ministry” (Eph. 4:12), which is another nautical term. To equip, fundamentally means to make something or someone adequate, whether mechanically like a fisherman mending fishing nets or a physician setting a broken bone, occupationally like training an apprentice, developmentally like guiding a child into adulthood, or morally like restoring to spiritual health a brother who was caught in sin. In the fifteen times that word (Greek, katartizo) is used in the New Testament, it is translated as restore, prepare, mend, train, unite, supply, create, and equip. To be fully trained as a sailor, or a saint, involves risk and reward.

Paul’s instruction to pastors/teachers in the local church was to make the saints (i.e., church members) adequate for participation in their own and the group’s journey toward spiritual maturity. To be equipped is not to be finished, of course, but to be functionally ready collectively to “attain to the unity of the faith and of the knowledge of the Son of God, to mature manhood, to the measure of the stature of the fullness of Christ” (Eph. 4:13). Everyone onboard knows and does his/her job in the church, looks out for one another, recognizes the pitfalls, and understands generally the purpose and destination of the journey. This is something akin to the root idea behind our antiquated nautical idioms, “to know the ropes” (on a boat), no longer “wet behind the ears,” because he has “found his sea legs.” In modern parlance, we might similarly say, “next man up.” If the captain/pastor washes overboard, then the crew can continue the journey since he equipped them to do the work of ministry.

So, then, where are we going as a church? We are going toward the spiritual maturity of the individuals in the church and the whole church. How will we know that we are making progress? We can measure progress as the equipped saints start doing the work of ministry!

Whoever Humbles Himself

Whoever Humbles Himself. The general instruction is generally not well received: “Know your place,” “Stay in your lane,” “Mind your own business.” The pride that is in each person often produces even more desire to buck conventional roles when told to maintain them. “Do not eat,” for instance, usually makes us want to eat nothing else but that which was prohibited. Instead of attacking human pride, humans usually attack the rule or the ruler. While this primal urge to revolt is celebrated as good, even enshrined as courageous, in the Lord’s created order pride is never good or courageous because it is the hostile intruder against peace. The Beatles might have lightheartedly sang, “I don’t know why you say, ‘Goodbye,’ I say, ‘Hello,’” but the Bible knows why: pride! “Pride goes before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall” (Prov. 16:18). Pride doesn’t endure being told what to do by authority.

Yet, the result of pride doesn’t mollify pride. Like the churning of the sea, pride isn’t ultimately happy when it gets its way; it always wants more. Pride is insatiable because there is ever another hunt to begin, another conventionality to shatter, another authority figure to topple.

The opposite of pride, therefore, is not external debasement but internal humility. Humility finds and enjoys what pride cannot locate or possess, namely peace with God and contentment under God’s sovereign rule. Humility, as seen through the lens of pride, is weakness. But humility, as seen through the lens of faith, is greatness. “Whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven” (Matt. 18:4).

I had a pastor friend in another place who was gifted a late model Lincoln Towncar by one of his parishioners because he genuinely needed a new ride. But the gift caused this pastor grief. “It is too nice,” he said one morning at a coffee fellowship with other pastors. “What will the people in the church think seeing me drive this car into the church parking lot? A pastor should be poor.” Right there in his conclusion, it was clear that he was not talking about salary constraints but about his perception in the eyes of others. Trying to appear humble by driving a relatively frumpy car is just another variation of pride. Ah, but before I could cast the first stone, I was reminded of my own false piety in wearing only clothes from the Thrift Store.

Humbling oneself is not constructing an external façade but resting in an internal understanding that one doesn’t need a façade whatsoever. Pride reaches, even clamors for achievement; humility relaxes by faith in the peace of God and the provision from God.

Repent and Believe in the Gospel

Repent and Believe in the Gospel.  While we cannot easily recognize the name of the ancient Greek courier, Pheidipiddes (sometimes spelled Philippides), without a little help from Google®, we can immediately recognize the foot race that Pheidipiddes inspired: the marathon. Versions differ, but Greek lore tells that Pheidipiddes sprinted the 42.2 kilometers (26.2 miles) back to Athens with urgent news from the Battle of Marathon, where Darius I first invaded Greece in 490 bc. “Joy, we win,” Pheidipiddes declared, his last words before his sudden death. The Battle of Marathon was the watershed victory in the Greco-Persia Wars where Greece first learned, if the City-States banded together, that they could defeat Persia despite Persia’s overwhelming number of soldiers.

We may not easily recognize the places Athens or Sparta or the name Darius either, but we can all recognize the role that Pheidipiddes filled. He was an evangelist, euangelion, a proclaimer of the gospel, the good news. From Classical Greek literature, which predates the New Testament, the word euangelion already existed, though rarely. A secular evangelist proclaimed victorious news from afar. The angels, announcing Jesus’ birth, masterfully commandeered this uncommon word, euangelion, recasting it in an exclusively Christian sense. “And the angel said to them, ‘Fear not, for behold, I bring you good news [euangelion] of great joy that will be for all the people’” (Luke 2:10). The rest of the New Testament follows the angelic pattern of speech; every New Testament occurrence of euangelion refers to Christ’s victory.

Therefore, the term gospel in the New Testament is either the good news of Christ’s redemption (76 times) or the action of proclaiming of Christ’s good news (77 times). Or we might repurpose Pheidipiddes’ words, “Joy, we win,” to summarize the gospel, yet in a sense that Pheidipiddes could have never imagined. “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God is at hand; repent and believe in the gospel [euangelion]” (Mark 1:15). Our great joy comes from Christ’s victory over death.

My Father Is Working Until Now

My Father Is Working Until Now.  Two days past June’s full moon, which in years past Native Americans might have called Strawberry Moon, the pre-dawn dark remained remarkably lit. The moon cast blue shadows wherever its glow escaped the tree line. 

I arrived at the woodland theater late. The moon was already taking his bow behind a sturdy stand of Southern pines to the applause of owls, frogs, and a surprisingly early tanager. The neighborhood rooster(s) noticed the first First Light of July, heading out into the chicken yard. The field rabbits did, too, heading into their burrow for sleep somewhere beneath the muscadine vines. The day was just starting for humans, but it was nearly over for most of creation. “And there was evening and morning” (Gen. 1:5), the next day.

It is easy to imagine that activity in the universe stops when we close our eyes at night, like the refrigerator light going out when we close the door. But it doesn’t stop. Every dawn reminds us that though the Lord does not need us, he wants a relationship with us and tirelessly provides it to us. He literally works while we sleep.

“My Father is working until now” (John 5:17a), Jesus said, infuriating the crowd. God rested on the seventh day (Gen. 2:5), but God did not cease working altogether. His first Sabbath brought a close to his creative action, but his sustaining and redeeming action continues without a pause throughout each night and during every Sabbath. “Behold, he who keeps Israel will neither slumber nor sleep” (Psa. 121:4). “In him all things hold together” (Col 1:17).

When Jesus added his next line, the crowd turned into a mob. “My Father is working until now, and I am working” (John 5:17). Only barely would they allow the theological truth that God is continuously “working until now,” but Jesus makes himself equal with God. “This was why the Jews were seeking all the more to kill him, because not only was he breaking the Sabbath, but he was even calling God his own Father, making himself equal with God” (John 5:18).

Moonset on pine ridge, which I stumbled upon this morning, was not for me but for Christ. God allowed me a front row seat today to see him working his glory in the pre-dawn dark. 

Paul's Sufferings as an Apostle

Paul’s Sufferings as an Apostle (2 Cor. 11:16-33).

¹⁶ I repeat, let no one think me foolish. But even if you do, accept me as a fool, so that I too may boast a little.

¹⁷ What I am saying with this boastful confidence, I say not with the Lord's authority but as a fool.

¹⁸ Since many boast according to the flesh, I too will boast.

¹⁹ For you gladly bear with fools, being wise yourselves!

²⁰ For you bear it if someone makes slaves of you, or devours you, or takes advantage of you, or puts on airs, or strikes you in the face.

²¹ To my shame, I must say, we were too weak for that! But whatever anyone else dares to boast of—I am speaking as a fool—I also dare to boast of that.

²² Are they Hebrews? So am I. Are they Israelites? So am I. Are they offspring of Abraham? So am I.

²³ Are they servants of Christ? I am a better one—I am talking like a madman—with far greater labors, far more imprisonments, with countless beatings, and often near death.

 

²⁴ Five times I received at the hands of the Jews the forty lashes less one.

²⁵ Three times I was beaten with rods. Once I was stoned. Three times I was shipwrecked; a night and a day I was adrift at sea;

²⁶ on frequent journeys, in danger from rivers, danger from robbers, danger from my own people, danger from Gentiles, danger in the city, danger in the wilderness, danger at sea, danger from false brothers;

²⁷ in toil and hardship, through many a sleepless night, in hunger and thirst, often without food, in cold and exposure.

²⁸ And, apart from other things, there is the daily pressure on me of my anxiety for all the churches.

²⁹ Who is weak, and I am not weak? Who is made to fall, and I am not indignant?

³⁰ If I must boast, I will boast of the things that show my weakness.

³¹ The God and Father of the Lord Jesus, he who is blessed forever, knows that I am not lying.

³² At Damascus, the governor under King Aretas was guarding the city of Damascus in order to seize me,

³³ but I was let down in a basket through a window in the wall and escaped his hands.

The Conversion of Saul

The Conversion of Saul (Acts 9:1-19).

¹ But Saul, still breathing threats and murder against the disciples of the Lord, went to the high priest

² and asked him for letters to the synagogues at Damascus, so that if he found any belonging to the Way, men or women, he might bring them bound to Jerusalem.

³ Now as he went on his way, he approached Damascus, and suddenly a light from heaven flashed around him.

⁴ And falling to the ground he heard a voice saying to him, "Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting me?"

⁵ And he said, "Who are you, Lord?" And he said, "I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting.

⁶ But rise and enter the city, and you will be told what you are to do."

⁷ The men who were traveling with him stood speechless, hearing the voice but seeing no one.

⁸ Saul rose from the ground, and although his eyes were opened, he saw nothing. So they led him by the hand and brought him into Damascus.

⁹ And for three days he was without sight, and neither ate nor drank.

 

¹⁰ Now there was a disciple at Damascus named Ananias. The Lord said to him in a vision, "Ananias." And he said, "Here I am, Lord."

¹¹ And the Lord said to him, "Rise and go to the street called Straight, and at the house of Judas look for a man of Tarsus named Saul, for behold, he is praying,

¹² and he has seen in a vision a man named Ananias come in and lay his hands on him so that he might regain his sight."

¹³ But Ananias answered, "Lord, I have heard from many about this man, how much evil he has done to your saints at Jerusalem.

¹⁴ And here he has authority from the chief priests to bind all who call on your name."

¹⁵ But the Lord said to him, "Go, for he is a chosen instrument of mine to carry my name before the Gentiles and kings and the children of Israel.

¹⁶ For I will show him how much he must suffer for the sake of my name."

¹⁷ So Ananias departed and entered the house. And laying his hands on him he said, "Brother Saul, the Lord Jesus who appeared to you on the road by which you came has sent me so that you may regain your sight and be filled with the Holy Spirit."

¹⁸ And immediately something like scales fell from his eyes, and he regained his sight. Then he rose and was baptized;

¹⁹ and taking food, he was strengthened. For some days he was with the disciples at Damascus.

The Good Shepherd

The Good Shepherd.  One of Jesus' tenderest self-declarations, “I am the Good Shepherd” (John 10:11, 14), contrasts with the lurking presence of false shepherds—unexpected predators in this very pastoral setting. In the same utterance that exposes the false shepherds in his audience (John 10:1-18), Jesus draws many parallels with false shepherds in Judah’s past (Ezek. 34:1-24).

In John 10, Jesus identifies a false shepherd as a leader who is a disguised intruder with hostile intent. “He who does not enter the sheepfold by the door but climbs in by another way, that man is a thief and a robber” (vs. 1).  “A stranger they will not follow, but they will flee from him, for they do not know the voice of strangers” (vs. 5).

When his audience fails to grasp the significance of the dangerous reality of illegitimate leaders preying upon God’s people, Jesus brings forward a historical perspective. “All who came before me are thieves and robbers, but the sheep did not listen to them” (vs. 8). Likely referring to Ezekiel 34, the Good Shepherd has nothing good to say about wicked leaders, factiously called shepherds. “Ah, shepherds of Israel who have been feeding yourselves! Should not shepherds feed the sheep?” (Ezek. 34:2). “The weak you have not strengthened, the sick you have not healed, the injured you have not bound up, the strayed you have not brought back, the lost you have not sought, and with force and harshness you have ruled them” (Ezek. 34:4). “Behold, I am against the shepherds, and I will require my sheep at their hand and put a stop to their feeding the sheep” (Ezek. 34:10). The word play is sharp and somewhat cannibalistic, instead of feeding the flock, they are feeding themselves upon the flock.

What the Lord said in Ezekiel 34, he repeats in John 10! “Behold, I, I myself will search for my sheep and will seek them out” (Ezek. 34:11). “I will feed them with good pasture … there they shall lie down in good grazing land” (Ezek. 34:14). “I myself will be the shepherd of my sheep, and I myself will make them lie down” (Ezek. 34:15). “I will rescue my flock; they shall no longer be a prey. And I will judge between sheep and sheep. And I will set up over them one shepherd, my servant David, and he shall feed them: he shall feed them and be their shepherd” (Ezek. 34:22-23). “I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for his sheep” (John 10:11). “I am the good shepherd. I know my own and my own know me, just as the Father knows me and I know the Father; and I lay down my life for the sheep” (John 10:14-15). “So there will be one flock, one shepherd” (John 10:16). Jesus, Son of David, is the one Shepherd whose goodness and mercy will follow us all the days of our life (Psa. 23:6).

Eat With Him and Him With Me

 

Eat With Him and Him With Me.  The act of sharing a meal with someone else is far more significant than the food served, the etiquette preserved, or the venue reserved for the occasion. Even as simple as, “Hey, I’m going to take a break, would you like to split my Doritos®?” marks a milestone in any relationship. Yes, I would like that, takes the relationship one direction. No, not this time, takes the relationship another direction. Eating together (or not eating together) is the metaphor for fellowship that the whole world understands and uses. Friends make meals; meals make friends.

The Bible is peppered with many symbolic meals that convey deeply meaningful moments, especially between God and humankind. In the Old Testament, Abraham “entertained angels unawares” (Heb. 13:2), including the Lord himself, sharing with them cakes, curds and milk, and a roasted calf (Gen. 18:8). Moses and all the elders of Israel were invited up the slopes of Mt. Sinai to share a meal with God immediately after the nation of Israel agreed to enter into covenant with God. “They beheld God, and ate and drank” (Exo. 24:11). The Lord spoke of a future feast with restored Israel that will also include regenerated Gentiles, “On this mountain the Lord of hosts will make for all peoples a feast of rich food, a feast of well-aged wine, of rich food full of marrow, of aged wine well refined” (Isa. 25:6).

In the New Testament, Jesus saved a marriage feast from disaster by turning water into wine, but only the servants knew it (John 2:9). Jesus commandeered the Passover meal, expanding its meaning around his imminent death and resurrection (Matt. 26:28). Using highly figurative language, Jesus promised to the repentant remnant of the church in Laodicea, “Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and eat with him, and he with me” (Rev. 3:20). Jesus is first guest, then host.

The final meal of the Bible, open to all who repent and believe, reverses the first forbidden meal of the Bible which became a curse to all (Gen. 3:6). “Blessed are those who are invited to the marriage supper of the Lamb” (Rev. 19:9). Sharing a meal marks a relational milestone with God; our full restoration is accomplished by God.

Keep a Close Watch on Yourself

Keep a Close Watch on Yourself.  Self-care has become fashionable in recent years. Taking a mental health break would have been unthinkable in the 1990s, but in the 2020s it is commonly written into workplace policy. Unless someone had a fever over 100º and a doctor’s note, workers were expected to show up at work on time, every time, and work the whole time! Certainly, that ideal is still enshrined in the business sector, but there is much more recent levity given to mental load and emotional balance, largely because it yields greater productivity in the long run. Mental load and emotional balance are important factors in overall health but terrible goals for overall health; excellent servants but terrible masters.

The Bible doesn’t teach much about mental and emotional health as entities separate from relational and spiritual health. A biblical view of the human is simpler and more holistic than its component parts. Solomon writes insightfully of the necessary understanding that health flows from inside to outside. “Keep your heart with all vigilance, for from it flow the springs of life” (Prov. 4:23). “A joyful heart is good medicine, but a crushed spirit dries up the bones” (Prov. 17:22). Perhaps Solomon channeled similar wisdom heard from his father, David—“For when I kept silent, my bones wasted away through my groaning all day long” (Psa. 32:3)—into what he wrote later in life. “I perceived that there is nothing better for them than to be joyful and to do good as long as they live” (Eccles. 3:12). But the Bible remains mostly silent on the modern view of physical/mental balance, except for one key New Testament passage.

Paul was concerned as he installed his protégé, Timothy, into a contentious spiritual leadership position at Ephesus. So, Paul reminded Timothy of the objective of his appointment and gave some timely leadership advice. “Remain at Ephesus so that you may charge certain persons not to teach any different doctrine” (1 Tim. 1:3). Prayer (ch. 2) and the careful selection of leaders (ch. 3) started the advice. Then in rapid succession, Paul gave Timothy a clustered To-Do List (ch. 4): “command and teach” sound doctrine (vs. 11), “set the believers an example” (vs. 12), “devote yourself to … teaching” (vs. 13), use “the gift you have” (vs. 14), “practice these things, immerse yourself in them” (vs. 15).

The last two instructions in Paul’s quick list greatly parallel our modern preoccupation with mental and emotional health. They were personal to Timothy, but they were not to remain private for Timothy alone, since they formed an important function in the group. “Keep a close watch on yourself and on the teaching. Persist in this, for by so doing you will save both yourself and your hearers” (1 Tim. 4:16). Timothy’s health was vital because it impacted others. Health was not his goal but the means to his goal. Sound teachers will teach soundly!

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.