Because You Know

Because you know.  Barring any complication, it will have taken sixty hours to get from Goldsboro, USA, to Tete, Mozambique. This is the 56th hour. When or if the Wi-Fi will turn on, no one knows. 

What constitutes sixty hours? To a child, sixty hours is cruel and unusual punishment, especially if that time is spent in a booster seat in the family minivan. To an old man, sixty hours may the unit of time between gin rummy with the boys and physical therapy with Nurse Ratched. To a young man, sixty hours spent doing mostly anything other than being productive is a colossal waste. For me, no longer young yet not wise enough to be considered old, sixty hours away from hearth and home is the saddest span of time with nothing to filter out that which lurks in the back of my mind among the cobwebs. But sixty hours seems to be the price to pay the boatman to cross the river into missions in southern Africa. I gladly pay the fee because there are little children, fathers, and young men in Mozambique with (currently) no one to teach them of “him who is from the beginning” (1 John 2:13, 14). 

I have traveled alongside two groups of people so far inside these sixty hours: those who traveled to America from South Africa for the Masters golf tournament and those who travel from America to South Africa for big game hunting. It might be overly reductionist to say, but it seems like I have more in common with the pastors in grass-thatched huts to whom I will teach the attributes of God—his person, power, and perfections—than with trophy seekers and trophy hunters. (I hope there are embedded servants of Christ in those affluent subcultures as much as in the rural north of Mozambique.)

But the living parable acted out in front of my eyes between airports is that every slice of society has a next step of growth. And I won’t disparage anyone’s next step. I can’t, because I am still growing, and because growth is worship, and worship is Christ’s own due reward.

The Apostle John’s admonition is highly versatile when he said in triplicate, and twice, “I am writing to you, little children…fathers…young men” (1 John 2:12-14). In particular, he said to the fathers, “I am writing to you, fathers, because you know him who is from the beginning.” How curious and profound—he teaches again what they already know! There is more to learn. The little children know the Father also, but there is more to learn. The young men know about bravery and conflict, but there is more to learn. Knowing God is tremendously different than knowing about God. I have much to learn, too. 

We are all going from somewhere to somewhere else but may we each grow as we go! “Grow in the grace and knowledge of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. To him be the glory both now and to the day of eternity. Amen” (2 Pet. 3:18).

Prophesy

Prophesy. Prophesy is a strange word, and a stranger command: “Then they spit in his face and struck him. And some slapped him, saying, ‘Prophesy to us, you Christ! Who is it that struck you?’” (Matt. 26:67-68). The noun form is less strange, prophecy, but not entirely familiar either. How does one play the prophet or occupy the office of soothsayer except in some dark version of a dog-and-pony-show meant to entertain sadists? In effect, these thugs were not seeking information, they were seeking humiliation. They were hell-bent, in the most literal sense, on knocking Jesus down a few pegs. All week in Jerusalem, Jesus was being publicly venerated as the Prophet who is like but much greater than Moses in terms of authority (Deut. 18:15). Moses spoke for God, but the Prophet after Moses will speak as God (Deut. 18:18). In effect, they demand: Prove it, Prophet! Tell us what God reveals about a hidden subject, whether it be the future, or what is happening in the next room, or which assailant struck a blindfolded detainee (Mark 14:65; Luke 22:64).

The original promise of the Prophet after Moses contained a capital offense clause, either against the one who refused to listen to the Prophet, or against the so-called prophet who claimed that office illegitimately. “And whoever will not listen to my words that he shall speak in my name, I myself will require it of him. But the prophet who presumes to speak a word in my name that I have not commanded him to speak, or who speaks in the name of other gods, that same prophet shall die” (Deut. 18:19-20). This is high stakes poker! The temple guards are calling out what they think is Jesus’ bluff, but it is they who are in mortal danger as they scorn the Savior. Jesus does not answer them. He will not. He has said enough.

What is remarkable, however, is what is happening outside that interrogation room. Prophecy is happening, but not in response to the guards’ command to prophesy. Judas, who shared the previous night’s supper with Jesus, has done exactly as Jesus prophesied by betraying him. “What you are going to do, do quickly” (John 13:27). Peter, who could not keep prayerful vigil with Jesus, has lunged toward temptation, exactly as Jesus prophesied. “Watch and pray that you may not enter into temptation” (Matt. 26:41). All the disciples fled when Jesus was arrested, exactly as Jesus prophesied (Zech. 13:7; Matt. 26:31). And most prominently, in the very courtyard outside Jesus’ illegal trial, Peter was actively denying the Lord three times, exactly as Jesus prophesied. “Now Peter was sitting outside in the courtyard. And a servant girl came up to him and said, "You also were with Jesus the Galilean." But he denied it before them all, saying, "I do not know what you mean" (Matt. 26:69-70). “And the Lord turned and looked at Peter. And Peter remembered the saying of the Lord, how he had said to him, ‘Before the rooster crows today, you will deny me three times.’ And he went out and wept bitterly” (Luke 22:61-62).

Prophesy to us, you Christ, who is it that struck you? Judas struck Jesus. Peter struck Jesus. All the disciples struck Jesus. I struck Jesus. You struck Jesus. We struck Jesus in ways that hurt far more than the slaps of the high priest’s hitmen, exactly as Jesus prophesied.

You Have Need of Endurance

You Have Need of Endurance. It was not a marginal suggestion or a helpful tip when the writer of the Letter to the Hebrews wrote urgently: “You have need of endurance” (Heb. 10:36). Their congregation was sorely tested and persecuted, which even landed some of their members in a thoroughly unfriendly prison and up against the real threat of martyrdom.

It was not surprising, but nonetheless unacceptable, that some percentage of the church in/around Jerusalem was forsaking the New Covenant (faith in Christ alone) by attempting to play nicely again with the Old Covenant (faith in Christ plus works of the Law). But from many different vantage points, the writer of Hebrews showed how Christ is better, period, than keeping the Law. Adding works of the Law to faith in Christ in effect proved that they never believed Christ. Theirs was a gospel issue, not merely a cultural one—an important distinction!

“But recall the former days when, after you were enlightened, you endured a hard struggle with sufferings, sometimes being publicly exposed to reproach and affliction, and sometimes being partners with those so treated. For you had compassion on those in prison, and you joyfully accepted the plundering of your property, since you knew that you yourselves had a better possession and an abiding one. Therefore, do not throw away your confidence, which has a great reward. For you have need of endurance, so that when you have done the will of God you may receive what is promised” (Heb. 10:32-36).

He Who Has Ears, Let Him Hear

He Who Has Ears, Let Him Hear. The springtime ritual is happening again in the farmers’ fields that ring our fair city. The tractors are out, turning over the loamy soil that makes the Coastal Plains geologically distinct from Mountain, Piedmont, and Sandhill regions. What might this growing season produce? The living parable begins.

"A sower went out to sow. And as he sowed, some seeds fell along the path, and the birds came and devoured them. Other seeds fell on rocky ground, where they did not have much soil, and immediately they sprang up, since they had no depth of soil, but when the sun rose they were scorched. And since they had no root, they withered away. Other seeds fell among thorns, and the thorns grew up and choked them. Other seeds fell on good soil and produced grain, some a hundredfold, some sixty, some thirty. He who has ears, let him hear" (Matt. 13:3-9). 

“THE DEEPS” (ed., Arthur Bennett, The Valley of Vision, Banner of Truth [1975], pp. 134-35)

Lord Jesus,

Give me a deeper repentance, a horror of sin, a dread of its approach;

Help me chastely to flee it, and jealousy to resolve that my heart shall be thine alone.

Give me a deeper trust, that I may lost myself to find myself in thee, the ground of my rest, the spring of my being.

Give me a deeper power in private prayer, more sweetness in thy Word, more steadfast grip on its truth.

Give me deeper holiness in speech, thought, action, and let me not seek moral virtue apart from thee.

Plough deep in me, great Lord, heavenly Husbandman, that my being may be a tilled field, the roots of grace spreading far and wind, until thou alone art seen in me, thy beauty golden like summer harvest, thy fruitfulness as autumn plenty.

I have no Master but thee, no law but thy will, no delight but thyself, no wealth but that thou givest, no good but that thou blesses, no peace but that thou bestowest.

I am nothing but that thou makest me, I have nothing but that I receive from thee, I can be nothing but that grace adorns me.

Quarry me deep, dear Lord, and then fill me to overflowing with living water.

When You Pass through the Waters

When You Pass through the Waters.  WhatsApp chirped at me yesterday at 11:30 AM with new messages from my contact in Tete, Mozambique. Pastor Bowman typed, “How can we savaive with this?no any help” and included 22 photos from his mobile phone. How can we survive this? There is no help.

Cyclone Freddy, a historic storm that meteorologists have classified as “the most energetic ever recorded” (https://www.bbc.com/news/world-africa-64928093), continues to carve a path of destruction through Bowman’s community, as well as the entire length of Mozambique, now Malawi, and toward Zambia and Zimbabwe, too. In terms of this storm, the slower it goes, the worse the flooding gets. Freddy is barely inching north.

Over the last few weeks, Bowman and I have been exchanging messages ahead of our Bible Institute in mid-April. But understandably, today most of the cultural niceties fell away. His English might be rudimentary, but it is far better than my Portuguese! Yet it doesn’t take Google Translate to pick up Bowman’s meaning or his fear.

When he says, “no any help,” he means no any help – no fire departments, no policemen, no community shelters, no choppers, no inflatable rafts, no federal relief programs, and no power because the hydro-electric power grid had to be deactivated to prevent its total collapse from the floods. Bowman used some of his precious phone battery to ask for prayer.

I replied immediately with the first Bible verse that popped into my mind. “We are praying Isaiah 43:1-2 for you and for all Mozambique – ‘Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you’ – in Jesus’ name. Amen.” Bowman signed off with, “Amen pastor god bless you for  encouragement.”

With no new news since, no any help still occupies a space in my mind like a lump. Though there may be no any help from humans, with God there is always help. “It is the Spirit who gives life; the flesh is no help at all. The words that I have spoken to you are spirit and life” ... Simon Peter answered him, “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life, and we have believed, and have come to know, that you are the Holy One of God” (John 6:63, 68-69).

My trip to Mozambique may, literally, be washed out but God’s help is never diluted.

Seventy Times Seven

Seventy times seven.  Occasionally, a line in a book or a sermon stops me in my tracks. This week there were two. “In an age in which everything is permitted, and nothing is forgiven,” Tim Keller writes, “forgiveness is a form of voluntary suffering. In forgiving, rather than retaliating, you make a choice to bear the cost” (Forgive: Why Should I and How Can I?, p. 6). Ooof! Alistair Begg lands a similar punch, “We’ve become experts at asking forgiveness for things we had nothing to do with 200 years ago, and we fail to ask forgiveness for what we did 20 minutes ago.” Ouch!

As I mull over the words by these two modern communicators, it is Jesus who occupies the premier position for surgically dividing truth from opinion. During a contentious age, typified by rabbinical teachers, forgiving someone once was considered extraordinarily pious. But Jesus turned the opinion of piety completely upside down with the truth. “Then Peter came up and said to him, ‘Lord, how often will my brother sin against me, and I forgive him? As many as seven times?’ Jesus said to him, ‘I do not say to you seven times, but seventy times seven’” (Matt. 18:21-22). Peter’s insertion of seven times is generous in his own right; seven times forgiven is unthinkably often. But Jesus shatters all comparative examples of piety when he assigns seventy times seven, basically an unlimited number, to forgiveness.

Seventy times seven was uttered once before. After Cain killed his brother, Abel, God exiled Cain but kindly marked him and vowed to protect him, murderer though he was. “If anyone kills Cain, vengeance shall be taken on him sevenfold” (Gen. 4:15). Yet, seven generations after Cain, Lamech vowed seventy times seven, an unlimited number, to his vengeance as a fist in God’s face. “I have killed a man for wounding me, a young man for striking me. If Cain's revenge is sevenfold, then Lamech's is seventy-sevenfold” (Gen. 4:23-24). When Jesus speaks of unlimited forgiveness, he taps a reservoir of generosity that neither Cain nor Lamech nor we (in our flesh) could conceive—for only God is unlimited in his forgiveness. That’s the point. Only God is unlimited in forgiveness. We have asked him to forgive us unlimitedly: “and forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors (Matt. 6:12). We who have been forgiven have been also transformed by the God who forgives to such a degree that a disconnect with forgiveness is likely a symptom of a disconnect with God. “As the Lord has forgiven you, so you also must forgive” (Col. 3:13).

For Everything There Is a Season

For Everything There Is a Season.  Although the marquee outside the Parks and Recreation Building still reads, “Happy Fall, Y’all!” and although it is only March 1^st, it is basically springtime. The daffodils are now sharing space with the tulips. A yellow-green dusting of pollen covers everything, even my eyeballs. An ice storm, if one were to kick up in March, would kill or maim everything botanical in its path. But for now, March is marvelous.

It is as true this year as in any year, “For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven” (Eccles. 3:1). Apparently, in addition to a season for tulips, there is also a season for war. Not merely the unpredictable oscillation between “a time for war, and a time and peace” (vs. 8), but war has a predictable season, too. March means the beginning of war season for the ancients, as regular as tax season for the moderns, as anticipated as tulip season for the horticulturalists.

For the most part, ancient men would plant their fields, kiss their wives, sharpen their weapons, and march to war every March. They would fight the enemies until October when they (also the enemies) would return home, kiss their wives, store their weapons, bring in the harvest, and take a long-winter’s nap. For some reason, the regularity of war season is mildly humorous, like the dogs and the cats in the old cartoons, punching their timecards side-by-side in the morning, fighting tooth-and-nail all day until it was time to clock out again in the evening when they would wish each other a good night. See you later, Hal. You, too, Frank.

It is not a coincidence that March honors Mars, the Roman god of war, enshrined in the third month’s very name. It is also not a coincidence that Russia and Ukraine, having taken a break from war for the winter, are back at it again this March.

Ironically, the ones who divert from the war path as easily get churned up in war’s machinery. “In the spring of the year, the time when kings go out to battle, David sent Joab, and his servants with him, and all Israel … but David remained at Jerusalem” (2 Sam. 11:1). King David, curiously, declined to follow the war calendar and quickly fell into serious trouble with his lieutenant’s wife, Bathsheba (2 Sam. 11:4)—since all the other men were at war.

But before David’s infamous departure from the well-established season of war, apparently before he was coronated but after he was anointed as Israel’s king, he wrote about war and peace from a different point of view. He wrote about some people who not only went to war but who developed an appetite for war. “Too long have I had my dwelling among those who hate peace. I am for peace, but when I speak, they are for war” (Psa. 120:6-7). Declaring for the side of peace, David had to go frequently into war. Though his hands were bloody out of necessity, his heart was ever eager for peace.

So, March marches in as it ever has, but Mars is not in command, nor has he ever been. This is not the season of war anymore. This is the season of redemption now. We follow a different Warrior to a better battlefield. The cross was the war that really will end all wars.