Of Bald Men and Bears

Psalm 78 opens by declaring:

¹Give ear, O my people, to my teaching;
     incline your ears to the words of my mouth!
²I will open my mouth in a parable;
     I will utter dark sayings from of old,
³things that we have heard and known,
     that our fathers have told us.
⁴We will not hide them from their children,
     but tell to the coming generation
the glorious deeds of the LORD, and his might,
     and the wonders that he has done.

It is interesting that, on one hand, the psalmist describes his psalm as being a "parable" and an utterance of "dark sayings from of old," which suggests some form of mystery. (Think, for example, of how Jesus specifically used parables to veil the mystery of who he was.) On the other hand, the psalmist insists that he is writing merely things "that we have head and known/that our fathers have told us."

Certainly, much of the psalm is a survey of Israel's history, and therefore a story with which ever good Hebrew would have been intimately familiar. I think, though, that the psalmist sneaks in the mystery at the end of the psalm, masquerading its glory as something very obvious in Israel's history:

⁷⁰He chose David his servant
     and took him from the sheepfolds;
⁷¹from following the nursing ewes he brought him
     to shepherd Jacob his people,
     Israel his inheritance.
⁷²With upright heart he shepherded them
     and guided them with his skillful hand.

What is so mysterious about describing David as the shepherd of Israel? Well, in three of the psalms directly surrounding Psalm 78 (Psalm 77:20, Psalm 79:13, and Psalm 80:1), God himself is described as the Shepherd of Israel. How could both David and God be the Shepherd of Israel?

"I AM the Good Shepherd..."

Labels: Bible, Devotion, Theology

Posted by Jacob at 5:46 AM | Permalink | Comments

I was reading Psalm 72 just now, where Solomon prays that God would extend the rule of "the king." (Actually, the "Of Solomon" could be translated "For Solomon," and, since verse 20 says "The prayers of David, the son of Jesse, are ended," this could possibly be David's psalm for his son.)

Solomon is praying for himself (or David is praying for his son) along with any other kings following him who might pray this for themselves; however, I think that it clearly has typological implications for how we might think about Jesus, the Great King coming one day to rule over all the earth In verse 15, the psalmist writes:

Long may he live;
     may gold of Sheba be given to him!
May prayer be made for him continually,
     and blessings invoked for him all the day!

I'm not sure that, in taking this psalm typologically, we would need to adhere slavishly to every detail of the psalm; however, it is an interesting thought to pray for Jesus just as we might pray (although with a very different dynamic) for our other leaders in the church or in the political world. Following even more biblical imagery, Jesus will one day be our husband, and most people pray for their future spouses.

The trick is, of course, that Jesus does not lack anything. Can prayer be made for someone who possesses all wisdom, power, strength, honor, glory, and love? I suppose this gets into some deep water theologically in regard to prayer, and I don't really have enough worked out there to be able to offer much. Any thoughts?

Labels: Bible, Devotion, Theology

Posted by Jacob at 9:13 AM | Permalink | Comments

I know what the devil will say to you. He will say to you, "You are a sinner!" Tell him you know you are, but that for all that you are justified. He will tell you of the greatness of your sin. Tell him of the greatness of Christ's righteousness. He will tell you of all your mishaps and your backslidings, of your offences and your wanderings. Tell him, and tell your own conscience, that you know all that, but that Jesus Christ came to save sinners, and that, although your sin be great, Christ is quite able to put it all away.

Some of you, it seems to me, do not trust in Christ as sinners. You get a mingle-mangle kind of faith. You trust in Christ as though you thought Christ could do something for you, and you could do the rest. I tell you that while you look to yourselves, you do not know what faith means. You must be convinced that there is nothing good in yourselves; you must know that you are sinners, and that in your hearts you are as big and as black sinners as the very worst and vilest, and you must come to Jesus, and leave your fancied righteousnesses, and your pretended goodnesses behind you, and you must take him for everything, and trust in him.

Oh! to feel your sin, and yet to know your righteousness--to have the two together--repentance on account of sin, and yet a glorious confidence in the all-atoning sacrifice! Oh! if you could understand that saying of the spouse, "I am black, but comely"--for that is where we must come--black in myself, as black as hell, and yet comely, fair, lovely, inexpressibly glorious through the righteousness of Jesus.

--Charles H. Spurgeon, "Justification by Faith." Metropolitan Tabernacle Pulpit, 1914, p. 68.

Labels: Church, Devotion, Life, Theology

Posted by Jacob at 5:02 PM | Permalink | Comments

From John Stott's The Cross of Christ:

For the essence of sin is man substituting himself for God, while the essence of salvation is God substituting himself for man. Man asserts himself against God and puts himself where only God deserves to be; God sacrifices himself for man and puts himself where only man deserves to be. Man claims prerogatives which belong to God alone; God accepts penalties which belong to man alone. (160)

Labels: Devotion, Theology

Posted by Jacob at 8:48 PM | Permalink | Comments

For my theology class, I just finished reading C. S. Lewis's Mere Christianity. I know that I had already read the book twice, but I may also have read it a third time before this reading. Reading it again, though, showed me just how much Lewis has influenced my thinking on a number of topics. I have believed certain things for such a long time that I came to believe that my own theology was largely the result of my own thinking and Bible study, as though I have been a pioneer in Christian thought.

Rereading this book, though, shattered those thoughts: much of what I thought was mine was really something I picked up from Lewis. I imagine that if I were able to survey, in a moment, all that I have ever read or heard over the course of my life, I would realize that I have had very few original thoughts at all (if any). What a humbling thought!

So, I have been reflecting more on this verse: "What do you have that you did not receive? If then you received it, why do you boast as if you did not receive it?" (1 Cor. 4:7b). Ideally, my learning, and then (from what I learn) my teaching and my writing, should all happen because of a desire to build up the church in Christ. I should confess, though, that I am a sinner, and much of what I do in the way of studying theology and of relating it to others comes as a result of a desire to be "important" in the Christian world.

So, to the extent that what I have written or said comes from an arrogance that exalts me rather than Jesus, I truly apologize. This would, by definition, be a public sin, so I want to apologize publicly. I suppose this will probably be something I struggle against all my life, but, by the grace of God, I will one day be free from all this pride, content to gaze into the face of Jesus and discerning to realize that looking at myself instead would be foolishness. Praise God for that!

Also, I have been gaining a fresh appreciation for all the people from whom I learned Christianity during the course of my life. I remember talking about Jesus with my Grandpa as we went on long walks together. I remember learning wonderful Bible stories at my small, Mennonite church in Julesburg, Colorado from Sunday School teachers who were committed to telling us children about Jesus. I appreciate the fact that I have heard at least one sermon a week for virtually all my life. What a staggering thought, to realize that what I now know about Jesus is the fruit of so many people, who knew what they knew from so many people, and on and on! What do we have that we have not received?

Perhaps it would be helpful for those of us called to teaching to have constantly in mind our own mortality. For example, my Grandpa who taught me so much is right now losing much of his mental capacity. This is terribly difficult for me to watch, but it also reminds me that I must take advantage of the time I have to pass along what he and others have passed along to me, all the time concerned about seeing the next generation come to a knowledge of the Savior. I will one day die, even if Grandpa goes a bit sooner, and then both I and he will be forgotten in this world. But, Jesus will never be forgotten, and so, if my reputation and my name are tied up in him, why should this bother me?

Let us thank God for what we have been given.

Labels: Bible, Church, Devotion, Life, Philosophy, Theology

Posted by Jacob at 6:46 AM | Permalink | Comments

2 Cor 4:7-8 "But we have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us. We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair;"

I've never thought about this part of the passage before. It seems to say that it's normal, indeed necessary, for Christians to be confused by what we believe, to struggle to understand it. This doesn't lead us to "despair" or to give up, but to trust God and keep searching. If we pretend to have everything figured out, we actually diminish "the surpassing power that belongs to God and not to us."

I'm not sure if this perplexity extends to doubts about the truth of Christianity, but I think it conceivably does (Mk 9:24). Sometimes Christians will say to non-Christians that they're 100% convinced of the truth of Christianity, beyond any shade of doubt, and that if the non-Christian would simply put his faith in Christ, he would be too. I think this does a disservice to God because (a) I think they're usually lying (b) if the person becomes a Christian but still struggles with doubt, he worries that he's not really a Christian (c) as this verse says, it doesn't acknowledge our human weakness, and therefore steals some of God's glory.

Labels: Bible, Devotion, Theology

Posted by andrew at 7:14 AM | Permalink | Comments

At the end of Part 2 of Pilgrim's Progress, when Mr. Stand-fast is summoned by his Master, who "was not willing that [Stand-fast] should be so far from him any longer." As Stand-fast readies himself to die by crossing the River, so that he might enter the Celestial City, he says:

This River has been a Terror to many, yea the thoughts of it also have often frightened me. But now methinks I stand easy, my Foot is fixed upon that, upon which the Feet of the Priests that bare the Ark of the Covenant stood while Israel went over this Jordan. The Waters indeed are to the Palate bitter, and to the Stomach cold; yet the thoughts of what I am going to, and of the Conduct that waits for me on the other side, doth lie as a glowing Coal at my heart.

I see myself now at the end of my Journey, my toilsome Days are ended. I am going now to see that Head that was Crowned with Thorns and that Face that was spit upon, for me.

I have formerly lived by Hearsay, and Faith, but now I go where I shall live by sight, and shall be with him, in whose Company I delight myself...

Labels: Books, Devotion, Seminary, Theology

Posted by Jacob at 4:06 PM | Permalink | Comments

Last semester, I wrote a paper for my biblical hermeneutics class that analyzed Matthew 20:1-16, the parable of the vineyard laborers. Many people (notably Craig Blomberg, who wrote the New American Commentary on Matthew) understand the parable as teaching that there are no levels of rewards in heaven--all are treated equally, despite how they have lived their lives.

Personally, I find this to be a very difficult thesis to support, both in light of the parable itself (which I will deal with shortly) and in light of other Scriptural teaching. The most obvious example would seem to be 1 Cor. 3:10-15, where Paul tells us that our life's work will one day be revealed either as gold, silver, precious stones, wood, and/or hay--some of our work will last forever, and other parts of it will be burned up in the Judgment. But even in the very same chapter of this parable (Matt. 20:20-28), Jesus speaks that there are some who will sit at his right hand, and some who will not; he goes on to say that there will be a direct correlation between those who will be the greatest in heaven and those who are the least in this life. (More on this after I address the parable of the vineyard laborers.)

So, I argued instead (based largely on a discussion with Warren Wiersbe) that the parable is about limiting God by seeking to get a contract from him on what we will gain from our service. Briefly, my rationale goes like this: the first group of laborers get the landowner to agree (v. 2) on a denarius for their work, but all the other groups of laborers simply agree to work for "whatever is right" (v. 4). In the end, those who had simply agreed to work out of faith in the employer's fairness get much more money than they deserve--they gain a denarius for working less than an entire day, when the standard wage of that period for an entire day's work was a denarius.

On the other hand (the shocking part of the parable), when the first group of laborers complain about getting only a denarius, the reply of the landowner is twofold: (1) "Friend, I am doing you no wrong. Did you not agree with me for a denarius?" (v. 13, my emphasis)--in other words, the landowner points out that he had acted absolutely fairly in rewarding them according to their prior agreement; and (2) "Am I not allowed to do what I choose with what belongs to me? Or do you begrudge my generosity?" (v. 15)--it is the landowner's prerogative to pay his laborers more than they "deserve."

So, in my opinion, here is the point of the parable:

• First, God is absolutely just--not even in the way he dispenses his grace can he be charged with being unfair.
• Second, it is wrong to treat God as though he were a hard master from whom we need a contract if we are to be treated fairly, because this view of God reduces the way we live as Christians to nothing more than punching a clock so that we might earn "wages" in heaven. Not only is it wrong to treat God this way, but we lose out on experiencing the fullness of the grace of God.
• So, the proper attitude of a Christian is to do whatever God calls us to do whenever he calls us to do it, all the while completely trusting in his goodness toward those who love him and are called according to his purposes--we should not be driven by a bottom line in our obedience to God.

I write all this because, as I was reading again through Matt. 20 yesterday, I noticed that this is essentially the same message that Jesus teaches James, John, and their mother at the end of this same chapter in Matt. 20:20-28. Here, Jesus gives us standing orders to make ourselves the least among the brethren in order that we might be counted the greatest in the kingdom of Heaven. The problem is that, if we do this with a goal of earning a great reward ("Sure I'm able to drink your cup, Jesus--shouldn't that buy me a good seat in heaven?"), we will eventually find out that we missed the point. That sort of a life is an attempt to bargain with God for something (in this case, position and prestige in heaven) rather than living with complete confidence in the Master's fairness and generosity.

It seems, then, that we have a paradox: how can we possibly live with a goal of being first in the kingdom of Heaven (something Jesus seems to encourage, since he himself is the one who gives away the secret to being first, and since that secret--i.e., becoming a servant--is at the heart of all of his ethical teaching for us) when living with the sole purpose of gaining a reward was the mistake of the first group of vineyard laborers?

As I meditated upon this question, I noticed the following verses, which serve as Matthew's transition between the parable of the vineyard laborers and the story of Mother Zebudee (that is, this is the only thing between the two stories I have been discussing):

17And as Jesus was going up to Jerusalem, he took the twelve disciples aside, and on the way he said to them, 18"See, we are going up to Jerusalem. And the Son of Man will be delivered over to the chief priests and scribes, and they will condemn him to death 19and deliver him over to the Gentiles to be mocked and flogged and crucified, and he will be raised on the third day." (Matt. 20:17-19)

I think Matthew included this statement at this place for a purpose--the resolution to the tension between the vineyard laborers and the Sons of Zebudee is found in this aspect of Jesus' life. He alone obeyed his Father's will perfectly for his entire life (i.e., he worked the entire day in the vineyard), and he did so by making himself the slave of all, for "the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many" (Matt. 20:28). So, it should come as no surprise to us that:

9Therefore God has highly exalted him and bestowed on him the name that is above every name, 10so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, 11and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father. (Philippians 2:9-11)

If we would be first in the kingdom, we must become a slave (like Jesus did) with humility that seeks servanthood in order to deny self and glorify God in all things (like Jesus' humility). If we would be first, we must become more like Jesus both in our actions and in our attitudes.

Labels: Bible, Devotion, Seminary, Theology

Posted by Jacob at 2:06 PM | Permalink | Comments

Jesus brooks no rivals. There have been, there are, many religious leaders. In an age of postmodern sensibilities and a deep cultural commitment to philosophical pluralism, it is desperately easy to relativize Jesus in countless ways. But there is only one Person of whom it can be said that he made us, and then became one of us; that he is the Lord of glory, and a human being; that he died in ignominy and shame on the odious cross, yet is now seated on the right hand of the Majesty on high, having returned to the glory he shared with the Father before the world began.

--From D. A. Carson's meditation on Matt. 17 in For the Love of God, Vol. I

Labels: Bible, Books, Devotion, Philosophy, Theology

Posted by Jacob at 7:32 AM | Permalink | Comments

An excerpt from my homework:

Prudence: And what is it that makes you so desirous to go to Mount Zion?

Christian: Why, there I hope to see him alive, that did hang dead on the Cross; and there I hope to be rid of all those things, that to this day are in me, an annoyance to me; there they say there is no death, and there I shall dwell with such Company as I like best. For to tell you truth, I love him, because I was by him eased of my burden, and I am weary of my inward sickness; I would fain be where I shall die no more, and with the Company that shall continually cry, Holy, Holy, Holy.

--John Bunyan, The Pilgrim's Progress

Labels: Books, Devotion, Seminary, Theology

Posted by Jacob at 3:53 PM | Permalink | Comments