Count the Patience of Our Lord as Salvation

Count the Patience of Our Lord as Salvation.  “I hate wait,” said Inigo, the inimitable character in The Princess Bride (Willian Goldman, 1973). I think it is safe to say that we all “hate wait,” but especially our daughter-in-law who is in her second week past her baby’s projected due date. Today, she gets dibs on hating the waiting, and tomorrow, too, if applicable! What happens when we wait, though, is an indispensable part of our spiritual development. If we never have to wait, then our faith would be flat. Waiting becomes spiritual texture and strength.

Waiting is good and it produces goodness. Waiting is not hateful for God or hate-filled for us. Waiting is part of the Lord’s good recipe for us to be “conformed to the image of his Son” (Rom. 8:29). The whole creation along with us is agonizingly waiting, “groan[ing] inwardly as we wait eagerly for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies” (Rom. 8:23). “We wait for it with patience” (Rom. 8:25). Waiting is part of the wanting.

More than our feelings though, our attitude most affects our waiting. God’s patience does not imply his reluctance to answer our prayers. It is quite the opposite. Wait is an answer to prayer, as solidly as any Yes or No! The waiting forces us to focus on what we think about God and his care for us while we are waiting. It is a very cerebral aspect of spiritual maturity, but essential, nonetheless.

Peter connected a statement about patience and waiting to a command about patience and waiting during a time when his readers were tempted to perceive the Lord’s delay in intervention during their persecution as the Lord’s preoccupation somewhere else. “The Lord is not slow to fulfill his promise as some count slowness, but is patient toward you, not wishing that any should perish, but that all should reach repentance … [but] count the patience of our Lord as salvation” (2 Pet. 3:9, 15). He doesn’t care, says the doubter. He isn’t able, says the scoffer. He is bringing all to repentance including me, says the waiter.

Counting is both an action of ascribing the what and why of waiting (vs. 9) and an attitude of interpreting the how and where of waiting within God’s sovereign purposes (vs. 15). But mostly, waiting submits the when of waiting under the who of God. Who is God during our waiting? He is patient. He is good. He is present. He is strong. He is unchanging. If we count God’s patience as his “slowness” to keep his word, then we miss its gift (vs. 9). If we count God’s patience as his “salvation,” then we receive its gift. Transforming our attitude is the work of waiting. Strengthening our trust is the purpose of waiting.

Will we trust God in our in-between spaces with our in-between phases? Will we entrust our waiting to God who is patient? “Therefore, let those who suffer according to God's will entrust their souls to a faithful Creator while doing good” (1Pe 4:19). Our attitude affects our worship.

Guard the Good Deposit

Guard the Good Deposit. The Apostle Paul and Timothy shared a special bond which Paul described as a spiritual father/son relationship. Paul likely shared the same bond with Silas, Titus, Epaphroditus, Luke, and the others mentioned in his epistles, but more of what he wrote to Timothy has been preserved than to the other protégés. He wrote of Timothy to Timothy: “my beloved and faithful son in the Lord” (1 Cor. 4:17), “my true child in the faith” (1 Tim. 1:2), and “my beloved child” (2 Tim. 1:2).

A native of Lystra, the notorious place where Paul was stoned and left for dead (Acts 14:19), Timothy’s mother (Eunice) and grandmother (Lois) were likely converted during or shortly after Paul’s first missionary journey through southern Asia Minor (modern-day Turkey). When Paul returned to Lystra on his second missionary journey a few years later, he recruited young Timothy to join his company of itinerant missionaries (Acts 16:1-5). In a relatively short span of time, Timothy was ordained and installed as the bishop of Ephesus (1 Tim. 1:3, 18).

In the two letters written to Timothy in the New Testament, Paul spoke of the gospel in terms of a treasure that had been entrusted to him. “In accordance with the gospel of the glory of the blessed God with which I have been entrusted” (1 Tim. 1:11). As the word entrusted conveys, God placed into Paul’s stewardship “the pearl of great value” (Matt. 13:46). But Paul did not, as Jesus had described, “light a lamp and put it under a basket” (Matt. 5:15). Instead, Paul guarded the gospel by entrusting it again to the next generation of disciple-makers. “This charge I entrust to you, Timothy” (1 Tim. 1:18). “O Timothy, guard the deposit entrusted to you” (1 Tim. 6:20). Deposit and entrust are forms of the same word.

Although the gospel proceeds from human to human, it is God alone who is the guarantor of the gospel. “I am convinced that he is able to guard until that Day what has been entrusted to me” (2 Tim. 1:12). “By the Holy Spirit who dwells within us, guard the good deposit entrusted to you” (2 Tim. 1:14). Finally, Paul encouraged Timothy to do what he had done with the gospel, to entrust it again further and wider. “What you have heard from me in the presence of many witnesses, entrust to faithful men who will be able to teach others also” (2 Tim. 2:2). Thus, the best strategy for guarding the good deposit is giving the gospel away. 

Remember

Remember. In every quadrant of American society, even internationally, we are called to remember the tragedy of the 9/11 attacks and the heroism that those attacks ignited. Remembering is good and proper. “Give honor to whom honor is due” (Rom. 13:7).

The act of remembering, however, is not a purely mental exercise. Merely mentally regurgitating a fact is, in fact, the opposite of remembering. Thinking, Oh right, today is 9-11 but then carrying on as normal, functionally describes the act of forgetting more than remembering! Remembering elicits an appropriate change based on the event or truth remembered. Remembering therefore, in its truest form, is active, overt, and external.

Americans of a certain age can remember where they were when news reached them of the terror attacks on 9/11/2001. I left a meeting early to go home and hug my wife as we watched the second tower crumble. Many Americans went to donate blood. Some pastors opened their churches for extra prayer meetings with larger-than-usual crowds. Certain young men and women enlisted in the military on 9/11 because of 9/11.

In the Bible, when God remembered, he didn’t just recall a fact, he acted. He intervened; he restored. “But God remembered Noah and all the beasts and all the livestock that were with him in the ark. And God made a wind blow over the earth, and the waters subsided” (Gen. 8:1). “Then God remembered Rachel, and God listened to her and opened her womb” (Gen. 30:22). Joseph asked the cupbearer, who was imprisoned with him, “Only remember me, when it is well with you, and please do me the kindness to mention me to Pharaoh, and so get me out of this house … yet the chief cupbearer did not remember Joseph, but forgot him” (Gen. 40:14, 23). Remembering is active, or it is not remembering.

The last “remember” of Jesus’ earthly ministry came from the second thief’s cross. “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom” (Luke 23:42). To this, Jesus did more than mentally note the conversation, he actively saved the soul. “Truly, I say to you, today you will be with me in paradise” (Luke 23:43). The last “remember” for Paul came in prison, chained but active! “Remember Jesus Christ, risen from the dead, the offspring of David, as preached in my gospel … therefore, I endure everything” (2 Tim. 2:8,10).

So then, yes, remember 9/11, but do so knowing that remembering involves action. 

Death Is Crushed to Death

Death Is Crushed to Death.  Occasionally, God weaves our problem within his solution to our problem. Ironic, yes, and certainly paradoxical, but not contradictory because God “cannot deny himself” (2 Tim. 2:17).

At times in the natural order of the universe, too, the problem itself becomes integral to its solution. For instance, the best substance to get lint out of the dryer’s lint trap is lint. Certain stickers will only unstick with the grip of the sticky side of the sticker itself. Don’t ask me how, but the smell of the smoke of an extinguished candle removes the smell of smoke in the room. Antibodies and antidotes derived from disease can cure disease. Our blood has properties that stop our bleeding. Our tears start processes that lessen our need to cry.

Biblically, God sometimes repurposes our problem within his remedy. For instance, God institutes his solution on a tree (Christ’s cross) to solve our problem with a tree (Adam’s tree). Christ’s crown of thorns was made from, but ultimately repealed, Adam’s curse of thorns. A holy meal (Lord’s Supper) replaces an unholy meal (forbidden fruit). Crooked Jacob was strengthened and straightened by taking on a limp. The indictment of sin spoken to guilty David, “You are the man” (2 Sam. 12:7), reverberates yet also evaporates at the presentation of the innocent Son of David by Pilate, “Behold the Man” (John 19:5). 

John Newton captured the paradox of grace in verse two of Amazing Grace: “‘Twas grace that taught my heart to fear / And grace my fears relieved.” A better slavery to the best Master sets the captives free (John 8:36). Fear drives out fear. Death defeats death. “When the perishable puts on the imperishable, and the mortal puts on immortality, then shall come to pass the saying that is written: ‘Death is swallowed up in victory.’ ‘O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting?’”(1 Cor. 15:54-55).

 

It is not death to die

To leave this weary road

And join the saints who dwell on high

Who’ve found their home in God

— Henri Malan (1787-1864), translated by George Bethune (1847)

In His Sleep

In His Sleep.  In this new age called grandparenting, it is entertaining and somewhat enlightening to revisit newly remembered parts of the previous age we once called parenting. Twenty-seven and a half years ago, we didn’t have so many features on the simple, fold-away stroller as now exist on today’s strollers. Factoring the rate of change, tomorrow’s strollers may come equipped with cappuccino machines. When did car seats begin to have an expiration date? The wheels on the bus still go round and round, thankfully, but the classic melody isn’t played on a cassette tape player anymore; it streams on Spotify. Some baby monitors now need an app and tap water is no longer clean enough for rinsing off pacifiers.

A few sayings of babyhood still live on, however, such as: sleeping like a baby. But much like eating like a bird and swimming like a fish, sleeping like a baby is a seriously misplaced cliché. Who really thinks that sleeping like a baby is anything close to peaceful? The sleep of a baby lasts all of 20 minutes when we need her to sleep and 4 hours when we need her to wake up. Even when she is asleep, she punches the air and kicks the blanket, making faces and noises, half-way laughing or half-way crying. Although very cute, sleeping like a baby is a gamble at best.

The ones who really sleep well during babyhood are the parents, at least that is when they get a break from baby. Exhaustion is normal and anywhere is a potential napping zone. Baby wins the sleep war, as she should. Parents can sleep when they become grandparents.

The elusiveness of sleep combined with its essential nature is a detail that Solomon worked into one of his two recorded psalms (Psa. 72 and 127). Maybe he was observing infants in the palace nursery when he wrote Psalm 127. The English Standard Version translates verses 1-2, “Unless the Lord builds the house, those who build it labor in vain. Unless the Lord watches over the city, the watchman stays awake in vain. It is in vain that you rise up early and go late to rest, eating the bread of anxious toil; for he gives to his beloved sleep” (Psa. 127:1-2). But the New American Standard Version better connects the eating and sleeping of verse 2 with the laboring and the watching of verse 1 by translating the end of verse 2 thusly, “For He gives to His beloved even in his sleep.” It is vain to persist at laboring, watching, eating, and sleeping in one’s own strength without the understanding that “Unless the Lord builds … [and] watches … [and] gives” all that we need. It is impossible for us to provide for ourselves, even if we worked at it incessantly. It is easy, so to speak, for God to provide; he gives to us even while we are sleeping (i.e., unable to assist God in the work of provision). God doesn’t obliquely give sleep to insomniacs as much as he provides for us all things, even in our sleeping. We wake up and discover afresh that God has been at it all night.

A Pear Tree

A Pear Tree.  Considering C. S. Lewis (quote below), urged on by A. W. Tozer (quote below and a prayer), may we read again from the old books today. New classics in spiritual formation are undoubtedly being written today, but we will only know if they become classics in the next century. But St. Augustine’s Confessions (written 400 ad) has generated over sixteen centuries of relevance. So, without needing any additional commentary, drink deeply from his section which is often referenced by its simpler heading: A Pear Tree.

“Every age has its own outlook. It is specially good at seeing certain truths and specially liable to make certain mistakes. We all, therefore, need the books that will correct the characteristic mistakes of our own period . . .  The only palliative is to keep the clean sea breeze of the centuries blowing through our minds, and this can be done only by reading old books” (C. S. Lewis, “On the Reading of Old Books,” God in the Dock, p. 202).

“Come near to the holy men and women of the past and you will soon feel the heat of their desire after God . . .  The whole testimony of the worshipping, seeking, singing church [leads us into] the experiential heart-theology of a grand army of fragrant saints” (A. W. Tozer, The Pursuit of God, pp. 15, 16). “O God, I have tasted Your goodness, and it has both satisfied me and made me thirsty for more. I am painfully conscious of my need of further grace. I am ashamed of my lack of desire. O God, the Triune God, I want to want You; I long to be filled with longing; I thirst to be made more thirsty still. Show me Your glory, I pray, so I may know You indeed. Begin in mercy a new work of love within me. Say to my soul, ‘Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away.’ Then give me grace to rise and follow Thee up from this misty lowland where I have wandered so long. In Jesus’ name. Amen” (pg. 20).

“There was a pear tree close to our own vineyard, heavily laden with fruit, which was not tempting either for its color or for its flavor. Late one night–having prolonged our games in the streets until then, as our bad habit was–a group of young scoundrels, and I among them, went to shake and rob this tree. We carried off a huge load of pears, not to eat ourselves, but to dump out to the hogs, after barely tasting some of them ourselves. Doing this pleased us all the more because it was forbidden. Such was my heart, O God, such was my heart–which thou didst pity even in that bottomless pit. Behold, now let my heart confess to thee what it was seeking there, when I was being gratuitously wanton, having no inducement to evil but the evil itself. It was foul, and I loved it. I loved my own undoing. I loved my error–not that for which I erred but the error itself. A depraved soul, falling away from security in thee to destruction in itself, seeking nothing from the shameful deed but shame itself” (St. Augustine, Confessions, Book II, Chapter 4, Section 9).

Plotted How to Entangle Him

Plotted How to Entangle Him.  On rainy days, if we could find all the pieces, we used to play a game called Mouse Trap® as children. However, playing that game was seldom because there were so many, very easily misplaced pieces: various slides, ladders, cups, funnels, a marble, and the little plastic net at the end to trap the little plastic mouse. Missing just one piece meant playing something else like Uno®, or far worse, Parcheesi®. But honestly, it wouldn’t have helped if we had played Mouse Trap® every day because it never made logical sense to me the order in which to build or deploy the mouse trap. The take-away, I guess, was that I was no mastermind. I resembled the mouse more than the trapper.

Not a game, but a real trap was built for Jesus. He was the prey. The Pharisees and Sadducees were the predators. In secret meetings and hushed voices, the evil schemers had attempted to snare Jesus several times, but could not mechanize the right combination of slides, ladders, cups, funnels, and marbles to drop the net over him. “Then the Pharisees went and plotted how to entangle him in his words” (Matt. 22:15). The self-proclaimed masterminds were missing a piece until Judas gave it to them. Judas was the insider for hire, willing to identify Jesus at night when no one else that mattered was looking.

Entanglement is a sanitized word; the original idea was baiting a trap. The Pharisees and Sadducees could not outsmart Jesus, so they attempted to lure him into a trick. “Is it lawful to pay taxes to Caesar?” (Matt. 22:17). “In the resurrection, therefore, of the seven, whose wife will she be?” (Matt. 22:28). “Which is the greatest commandment in the Law?” (Matt. 22:36). Not only did Jesus evade their traps, but he also reversed their traps upon their own heads. Jesus was the true mastermind, yet he didn’t rely on traps.

Thankfully, the kingdom of heaven does not rely upon wits or staying one step ahead of evil. The kingdom of heaven relies solely upon believing/trusting in the King. It is God who delivers from entrapment, not our natural skills of logical deduction. Left to my own wits, I am still paralyzed between Proverbs 26:4 and 26:5—“Answer not a fool according to his folly, lest you be like him yourself. Answer a fool according to his folly, lest he be wise in his own eyes.” Which way is better? is the weaker question to ask. The stronger question is always: What is your will, Lord? We do not need an answer to what as much as we need a relationship to who. “When they deliver you over, do not be anxious how you are to speak or what you are to say, for what you are to say will be given to you in that hour. For it is not you who speak, but the Spirit of your Father speaking through you” (Matt. 10:19-20).

Jesus was not anxious about evading his enemies’ conspiracy because he knew what the will of the Father was: “Yet it was the will of the Lord to crush him” (Isa. 53:10a). He would die, but not because they had outsmarted, overpowered, or outmaneuvered him. He died because his death was pleasing to the Father, a willing sacrifice for the sins of the world. “For this reason the Father loves me, because I lay down my life that I may take it up again. No one takes it from me, but I lay it down of my own accord. I have authority to lay it down, and I have authority to take it up again. This charge I have received from my Father” (John 10:17-18).