I Was in the Spirit

John uses the expression, "I was in the Spirit" twice in the Apocalypse. Once at 1:10, and once at 4:2. That he was referring to the same state of experience both times could hardly be argued against. What that state was we are about to explore, though it is not explicitly developed in the text. The sort of thing it results in, on the other hand, was explicitly demonstrated throughout the Revelation.

In both instances, the phrases are exactly the same in Koine. On their face, they refer to a locus in or among the Spirit. In the way that one can be "in the wind" or even "in the sun", the Apostle John was in the Spirit. What he is communicating by this was that he was experiencing a pointed (and I would say virtually tangible) consciousness of the divine presence.

This was not John's common or moment-to-moment experience of the Spirit. There are clear enough references to the inception of the experience in both occurrences. In the first usage, this something special happened to occur one Sunday on Patmos. In the second usage, the condition was initiated immediately upon hearing the voice beckoning him to heaven. In both cases, it seems clear that the experience as recorded represented a change from what was going on before.

The word used [ginomai] to describe the existence of John's state packs within it the idea of "becoming" rather than simply being. In other words, John emerged into this state (really, was born into it) at the moment in reference. It is not described in trance-like terms, though the word "ecstasy" is often bandied about while commenting on it. It is ridiculous to do so in my mind, for John betrays no rapture, no enthusiasm, no exhilaration nor any euphoria in conjunction with this experience. Really, there is nothing but matter-of-fact reportage associated with it.

More than anything else the state of being in the Spirit, at least from the accounts of John's being so, is about awareness of the very presence of God--not theoretically, not by faith, but in actuality. If we can generalize from John's experience to any of our's (and I think we can), being in the Spirit is like having a light go on in the dark which suddenly reveals things one would otherwise be unaware of. Those things could be revelations regarding heaven or earth or about the activity of God in a moment past, present or future.

If there is anything precedential or paradigmatic about John's experience, I think it can be said in regard to its application to us, that coming to be in the Spirit (really, acting on charismatic distinctives) is about coming to an acute awareness of God's immediate presence and what he is up to. As a result of that awareness prophecy, or healings, or works of power, or miracles are then manifested in this world. Those manifestations do not break into existence because someone exercised enough faith to produce them, but because someone had come to be in the Holy Spirit.

Worship As Fellowship

"...I am like a green olive tree in the house of God; I trust in the lovingkindness of God forever and ever. I will give You thanks forever, because You have done it. And I will wait on your name, for it is good, in the presence of Your godly ones.   Psalm 52:8-9  NASB

Psalm 52 is a study in contrasts. It begins looking at the evil person (as summarized in v. 7) and ends looking at the faithful, godly one. The boasts of the two are contrasted, as is their desire, their faith, and the reaction they get from God. A remarkable feature of the godly one is that he gets to hang out in the presence of God with other godly ones and worship. Worship as fellowship, imagine that!

Worship is fellowship with God

The faithful one is cast as a green olive tree in the house of God. That would seem a rather passive symbol, but there's much to recommend it. It is green, which means it is full of vitality. It is a tree, so its place is its place of abiding--trees don't come and go--it dwells in God's presence. It is an olive tree which means its fruitfulness provides oil which produces both sustenance and light.

An olive tree planted in the Temple grounds is in the happy situation of dwelling in the light of God. There it flourishes as a result of hanging out in the presence of God. It has abundant life flowing within and productive life blossoming and ripening without. It is alive as live can be, resting in the lovingkindness of God, but is there any action? 

Yes, there is--praising. "I will give you thanks" (as in the NASB above) would probably be bettered rendered as "I will praise you" (as in the NIV). The Hebrew word underlying the English translation comes from a root which means "casting" or "throwing" and which came to be used figuratively of the act of praising. In worship we cast our thanks, we cast our wonder, and we cast our submission to or upon God. 

When the faithful one is fellowshipping with God, planted like a tree in his presence, that one showers God with love and gratitude. Not a surprising response, given the wonder of who God is, it could hardly be helped. To fellowship with God is to break out in praise. Maybe we could jump to the conclusion and say by extension: to truly worship is to fellowship with God.

Worship is fellowship with God's people

That green tree planted in the temple of God is not alone. Others are present as well, godly people looking to God. Praise can be done alone, but is not something reserved for solitude. As for the individual, so too for the group: faithful people in the presence of God can hardly keep from breaking forth in praise. To truly worship in congress is to fellowship with God and man.

I think our fellowship with one another is missing something without genuine worship being part of our shared experience. Not all of our fellowship has to be centered around worship, but it is a dynamic that is healthy for us as individuals and as a body. Together, we are the temple of God. Worship is our fellowship.

The Open Door to Heaven

"After these things I looked, and behold, a door standing open in heaven..."      Rev 4:1 NASB

The Apostle John looked up after his visionary experience as an amanuensis, saw an opened door in the heavens and heard the now familiar voice of his visions calling to him, presumably, through it. We're not told what caught his attention first: the appearance of the opened door, or the voice beckoning him. It really doesn't matter. A new phase in his visionary experience was beginning, and its significance would soon be apparent.

The opened door in the heavens most readily signifies access to what normally would be inaccessible to mankind. In this particular instance that represents access to two things beyond human purview: 1) the throne room, or very presence, of God; and 2) the future. God has to open the door to the experience of either, or the heavens remain closed. So, even though it is not specifically mentioned in the text, that door had to have been opened by Jesus, a key bearer who opens what no one else can open or close.

Doors, opened or closed, serve a variety of roles in the Apocalypse, but the basic concept is the same regardless--doors represent a barrier only authority or power can open. There are doors only God can open (like the one in question), and there are doors that God does not (cannot?) open. That would seem an odd thing, a door barring God, but the Apocalypse represents such a thing existing. Jesus stands knocking, in that case, waiting for the invitee to open the door. The implication for monergism, perseverance, and the whole of Calvinism is troubling, to say the least.

"Come up here," though in the form of a command, was more along the lines of divine commentary and was specific to John (singular). It cannot be related to the Rapture, nor really, to anyone else's access to God or heaven, whether by prayer or other means. Immediately, John was transported beyond the door into the midst of whatever it was opened to reveal. The surroundings were obviously symbolic because God (the Father and the Spirit) were represented tangibly when they are actually incorporeal, and Jesus was represented as a lamb rather than the corporeal form he has taken.

The purpose of John's visionary translation was to find out what things take place after the things he had already been shown. Those things were contained in the opening vision of Christ and the Letters to the Seven Churches. It stands to reason, it seems to me, that this particular sequential characteristic undermines viewing the Letters as representing successive ages of the Church. Instead, the Letters, all of them together, must have had reference to something that could have been existent in the time of John and before the bulk of what is revealed as happening afterward according to the stated purpose of the command.

Worship: Take a Deep Breath

We have been looking into the subject of worship. The series so far: Pause, Repent, Arise, and with this post--Inhale.

“Build up, build up, prepare the road! Remove the obstacles out of the way of my people.” For this is what the high and exalted One says—he who lives forever, whose name is holy: “I live in a high and holy place, but also with the one who is contrite and lowly in spirit, to revive the spirit of the lowly and to revive the heart of the contrite.     Isaiah 57:14-15  (NIV)

We instinctively hold our breath when something astonishing happens. Something which catches us by surprise, or hits us with shock tends to take our breath away. I remember the trips to the dump to get rid of the garbage while I was staying with my grandparents in northern Maine when I was a teenager. Even before we could tell otherwise, a sudden increase in flies was sufficient to tell us we were getting close. Then came the smell--youch, literally!

I would go into hibernation mode, breathing as little as possible, because the smell was so strong it was a shock to the system. You know what I did when we were finally clear of the dump? Whooosh, the biggest inhalation of fresh air I could take. That made it feel like all was well on planet earth once again. When we've gone from misery to joy it's time to inhale!

There is a refreshing for the soul that comes to one who's continued beyond the sin revealing light of God's presence. There is a breath that our soul can breathe and that is the breath of God. It is a spirit thing. Whether in Hebrew or Greek, the word translated "spirit", as in the text above (vs. 15), is the same as the word for breath. The text above tells us that a soul that is contrite is enlivened (revived) in breath (spirit) because of God's nearness. It is, in fact, God's nearness that causes the quickening.

I used to do a lot of spelunking when I was young. I don't like closed-in places so the challenge of meeting my fears gave the activity a certain allure. After you've spent a couple of hours mucking around in the dark, crawling on your knees and belly, doing contortions and squeezing through holes and cracks, you start getting a little anxious. When the decision is made to leave, you move with purpose!

Climbing out doesn't take near as long as slithering in. When you finally clear the entrance and can stand once more and see sky above you, let me tell you, you take it in with gusto. You suck all the air in around you for several cubic meters. All is good, you're truly alive, and your massive inhalation is your effort to get as much of that invigorating moment and experience in you as you possibly can.

When we come into God's presence, having paused, repented, and arisen, it's time to inhale for all we're worth! Breathe in the breath (Spirit) of God and take in the wonder and the presence of God deep into your soul. We find relief, release and the joy of our souls in the presence of the God who welcomes and accepts us. And as we breathe in, we realize,"now, this is life!"

It is astonishing to find ourselves in the presence of God, cleansed and accepted. Oh the grace that brings us welcomed into the king's chamber! In that place, God revives our soul's breath. He quickens our spirit. We know the joy of being alive with God, and that joy begins to spring up in a fountain of thankfulness and wonder.

So, in that place before God, having arisen, open your heart and soul and inhale. Take a deep breath. Breathe freely the breath of life that God so freely gives to revive your soul, and let the joy of the Lord rise up within you and spill out.

Worship: The Repentance Threshold

In the noted passage below, the prophet Isaiah finds himself in the very presence of God. His experience is an analog for what we've been discussing starting with the last post concerning worship, so let's look into it...

"In the year that King Uzziah died, I saw the Lord, high and exalted, seated on a throne; and the train of his robe filled the temple. Above him were seraphim, each with six wings: With two wings they covered their faces, with two they covered their feet, and with two they were flying. And they were calling to one another: “Holy, holy, holy is the Lord Almighty; the whole earth is full of his glory.” At the sound of their voices the doorposts and thresholds shook and the temple was filled with smoke.

“Woe to me!” I cried. “I am ruined! For I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips, and my eyes have seen the King, the Lord Almighty.” Then one of the seraphim flew to me with a live coal in his hand, which he had taken with tongs from the altar. With it he touched my mouth and said, “See, this has touched your lips; your guilt is taken away and your sin atoned for.”     Isaiah 6:1-7  (NIV)

I said in my last article that we must stop everything we're doing and know that God is in order to worship. When we let this faith perspective predominate our thoughts and action, let it consume every other concern, we find ourselves becoming very aware of God's presence. As we recognize and acknowledge God's presence by faith, our awareness of him clarifies and the light and glory of God shines upon the heart and mind of the worshipper. The worshipper, in effect, "sees" God in a fashion analogous to Isaiah's.

In the light of God's presence, the worshipper "sees" God, but that light also shines revealingly on the worshipper. He or she becomes aware of God, but consequently also becomes aware of his or her own shortcomings, flaws, and sinfulness. The light of God reveals God, but also brings into stark contrast the darkness and shadows of the human soul. In that circumstance, Isaiah's cry was, "Woe is me!"

There is nothing that so reveals the heart as the mouth. Jesus said that every empty word that spills out of it was bound to be judged. In God's presence, the reality of this, I think, struck Isaiah where he stood and became his undoing. How could a man of unclean lips hope to survive in the presence of God, the "holy, holy, holy"?

Our response is much the same as we come into the presence of God in worship. We're not only God aware, but in the glaring light of his glory we are self-aware as well. Our every failing and fault is illumined and we're struck by how much we're truly at odds with God, unlike him and unworthy of him. Our hearts melt at the contrast. All that one can do in the face of such a crushing revelation is to decry one's unworthiness with remorse.

In God's presence, we see the absolute wonder of God but we also see by that light all that's ungodly about ourselves. Godly excitement turns into godly sorrow. It would be depressing if that was all the further it went. In the light of God Isaiah was undone, but not done, and neither are we though we may fall crumpled in his presence.

Our sorrow, our regret and remorse do not carry the day. Just as the angel told Isaiah, "Your guilt is taken away and your sin atoned for," so do we have a token of assurance of redemption and reconciliation. Despite all that we are and all we are not, we're touched by the grace of God and remain in the light of God's presence just as Isaiah did. The awareness of sinfulness was not the cue to drop the staff and woosh away the sinner like a bad act in a vaudeville show.

There is in God's presence a grace that can deal with what ails us. A grace that can take the stains upon us and wash them away, and allow us to stay, welcomed and accepted in the very presence of God. The awareness of weakness, of failure, of sinfulness is never comfortable, particularly in the glaring light of God's goodness, but it is therapeutic. Instead of being swept under the carpet to fester, our sinfulness and weakness is brought out in the light, recanted, and then swept away.

When we pause to recognize God's presence, and by faith become absorbed in the reality of his existence, we will find not only the thrill of seeing God but the agony of seeing ourselves by his light. Our wonder turns into discomfort. That is no reason to avoid his presence, though that might seem easier or more preferable to the flesh. As wonder turns to discomfort, so discomfort turns into joy when we allow our transparence in his presence to be touched by his fire.

It is my conviction that we cannot grow apart from this experience, certainly not to the depths God would have us to. The experience of God's presence in worship changes us like the experience of God's presence changed Isaiah, so long as we are willing to step across the repentance threshold. So pause to recognize God, embrace the painful conviction that may well ensue, acknowledge the ruin of your waywardness, and God will cleanse you and leave you standing before him afterward, ready to be spoken to.

Only Jesus Lives

Only God lives. Nothing else has this quality in and of itself. Everything other than God borrows its derivative existence from him, regardless of whether it may be animate or inanimate. Therefore, no being other than God has any claim to personal life (i.e a right to live) or personal rights (i.e. it's my life, I can do with it as I want). We have not made ourselves and we do not exist by and of independent animus.

In the grand scheme of things, only that which is precisely within God's will, that is in agreement in thought and deed with him, can possibly live. If anything in opposition to him had the ability to maintain itself in such, that would prove that evil was actually in God, since ultimately only God is. That which is in opposition to God, cannot do so eternally, but only temporarily and only because there is purpose in it for a season. Evil is a vanishing mist.

Among those in flesh and bones, only Jesus lived precisely in God's will. He never strayed from that line, and never will. It is his chief demonstration of divinity, and it is backed-up by his resurrection from the dead. So among those in flesh and bones, only Jesus has life and knows how to live.

For any other being made in the image of God, life can only exist in being in Jesus. This "being in Jesus" is not merely a positional or theoretical conception, but an actual and active participation in his Spirit. The one in Jesus is recast in his image, and thereafter walks as he walks. His atonement may have been the means of getting a sinner out of death, but only living and walking in him, like him, can sustain life.

As Jesus is flesh and bones with the person of God dwelling in him, those that will live are flesh and bones with God's Spirit living in them. As he, humbled in the form of flesh, lived agreeably with his heavenly Father, so to will those that live walk humbly in their flesh agreeably with the Spirit of God. To have Jesus within is to live, to be without Jesus is death, because only Jesus lives.

Biblical Christianity is Inherently Mystical

Christianity is often analyzed as if it were an issue of philosophy, history or sociology. Some aspects of its doctrine, ecclesiology, or development are subject to such treatment, but it should be realized that such treatment can never actually touch the heart of what it truly is. That is because Christianity, at its core, is not about what a person assents to, what those assenting do together, or what impact they have on society and history. Christianity, at its core, is about what a person experiences in his or her soul.

Biblical Christianity, as practiced by the individual, is inherently mystical. And just so we're on the same page, let me define "mystical" as I am using it in this context. Mystical means that something is experienced, rather than merely known, but which does not have a seen or necessarily understandable genesis or impetus. By that definition, common aspects of Christianity are readily seen as mystical: conviction, faith, call, inspiration, grace all fit the bill.

Take a look at some passages of the Bible:
John 16:7-15                                    
John 6:44-47                                   
John 3:3-8                                    
Romans 12:3
Romans 14:17
Romans 8:3-17
1 Corinthians 2:10-15
1 Corinthians 12:1-13
Galatians 3:2-5
Galatians 5:4-6; 16-25
Ephesians 3:1-19

Anyone who truly believes that Jesus is the Son of God is by definition a mystic. Anyone who believes that they are born again is a mystic. Anyone who believes that God's Spirit enables them to do anything is a mystic. Anyone who believes that they experience the presence of God and have companionship with him is a mystic. Anyone practicing in real life what the Bible describes as life in Christ is a mystic.

Embrace the mystical foundation of Christianity. Christianity cannot be reduced to writing on paper, or even stone. It's written on the heart by God--it is inherently mystical. Do yourself a favor and let your inner mystic out.

Miracles Among the Masses: Faith

If authority isn't the telling issue in the manifesting of miracles, what is? To say, "faith," as if that alone was it would be inaccurate, although faith is very important in the scheme of things. There are recorded incidents of God producing miracles when no faith was present nor was any ensuing. God, of course, can do what he wants, when he wants, how he wants, with whom and to whom he wants; but he doesn't act purposelessly in the manifesting miracles. It seems to me, what could be called ministering miracles, occur at the nexus of three things: 1) faith in the doer, 2) faith in the receiver, and 3) the inspiration of the Holy Spirit.

Though God is the ultimate performer of the miraculous, if the human agent does not have faith, the likelihood is that the miraculous will not occur. The faith necessary is the kind that has no doubts concerning the thing about to be done: doubt is the underminer of divine intervention. I think that is a hard thing for humans in general to produce, thankfully for God's glory, there is a gracious enablement that can accompany the need for the miracle. That is not to say that we do not have power over our own belief, so if we slough off counting on God to bail us out of our unbelief, we're likely to face disappointment.

If the receiver does not have some measure of faith, the likelihood of a miracle is next to nothing. God occasionally intervenes despite the unbelief of a receiver rather than in conjunction with his or her faith, but generally, that will not be the case. Today, the receiver is often saddled with the entire burden of failure in the effort to produce the miraculous, but I don't think that represents the total picture of what is going on. Regardless, it cannot be denied that Jesus clearly taught miraculous ministry is received according to one's faith.

The Spirit does as he wills and doesn't do as doesn't will. If the Holy Spirit does not have a mind to do a thing, it just ain't gettin' done! We can exercise some will in relation to the Spirit's will insofar as we go along with what he enables (like in tongues), but his doing is still absolutely necessary to anything miraculous. The only means we have of influencing the impetus of the Spirit is prayer, but the Spirit must be present to do whatever if whatever is to be done.

So, when faith in the doer is contemporaneous with faith in the receiver and the Spirit's willing, a miracle occurs.

Just A Bit More About Communion

Continuing on the subject of Communion...

Guilt for the Body and Blood

One may wonder how the violation of the elements of a memorial meal would rise to the level of weakness and death in punishment. To such reverie, I say let us remember: a simple command to not eat a piece of fruit resulted in the weakness and death of everything. It is not the relative scope of the offense itself (as we would see it) which determines God's response in judgment, but what he can see the offense betrays about the condition of faith in the perpetrator. Our scales can in no way be applied to the justice of God.

A God-given sign of faith, not honored as such, carries notable risk with its dishonor. It's not because the substance of the sign (the elements) was violated, but because of the attitude betrayed toward what is conveyed by them. There is no implication in such punishment that necessitates that it entail an affront to some special presence, or gracious virtue. Guilt accrues over simple bread and wine simply because one who is disrespectful of the sign is disdainful of the thing signified by it. One needs to discern this truth when participating in the Supper.

Grace

What God gives us is himself. It's what is at the heart and soul of being born again. The Spirit of God quickens us, and we become living stones, part of the Temple, or habitation of God. It can't get better than that. God, no longer at a distance, but instantly with us and us always with him. To see grace, effectively, as some piece-meal add-on to rebirth fails to understand rebirth. Whatever God wants to demonstrate within the believer springs from his abiding presence within. There are no means of grace, for the only means of divine blessing is God the Spirit, and he is within us before and quite apart from the performance of any ritual.

Superstition

Stevie Wonder was right, superstition ain't the way. Yet it is all too human, even amongst "believers". Case in point: the Bronze Serpent Moses lifted up and of which Jesus said he was the antitype. A memorial for the power God displayed when that serpent was lifted up became, through the superstitious seating of power in the serpent, idolatry. The hold of serpent superstition had to be broken then, the same is true of sacramentalism in the Lord's supper today.

If history is any guide, that same serpent devolution happened quickly in the early church with the Lord's Supper. I think sometimes folks look to the early church for too much. The NT epistles are filled with corrections, rebukes, astonished acknowledgments of sin and doctrinal error in the earliest church. If believers could mess up that badly when the Apostles were still alive and well, what confidence can be placed in their practice once the bodies of the Apostles were cold? The only reliable, authoritative guide we have for faith and practice is the Bible itself!

Conclusion
There is no biblical rule that tells us how often to celebrate the Lord's Supper. The implication in the NT, it seems to me, is that it was practiced often, maybe even at every worship meeting of the first congregations. Nonetheless, I think that if God would have had in mind the sacramental effect that has been saddled on the practice of Communion throughout most of church history, the Spirit would have commanded it less nebulously than "as oft as you eat and drink." No, the spooky necessity attached to the feast is on the back of man rather than the Son of Man.

The celebration does nothing to forgive sin, tap into the blessings God has provided in Christ, or mysteriously bind us together in the one bread and one body of Christ--it bears no sacramental necessity at all.  Jesus inaugurated the meal with the disciples to serve as a memorial until he could eat and drink it again with them in the kingdom of God.  It is simply a God-given way of remembering the means by which we stand before God accepted, and to proclaim our faith that Christ died for our sins, rose for our justification, and is returning for the consummation of his eternal kingdom.

As such the ordinance should not be entered upon callously. One should examine himself before participating and ensure within his own mind that he participates with Christ in view, in a way that honors what Jesus did and taught. That means not eating to satisfy physical hunger or appetite; nor eating self-centeredly, ignoring the body Christ bled and died for. To participate in an manner unworthy of Christ is to eat and drink judgment upon oneself.

A Bit More About Communion

Continuing on the subject of Communion...

Participation

Participation, or communion (koinonia), can occur at several levels in regard to the Lord's Supper. There is taking part in the actual ritual, there is the reminiscence of the referent of the symbol, and there is an organic connection to other partakers. None of these levels of participation require  special spiritual presence or grace to be effected. In fact, anything that one could posit as an effect of participation (at any of these levels) is actually stated elsewhere in scripture to be ours just through faith or the Spirit (rebirth).

What one already has through faith and rebirth is not subsequently participated in through ritual. If it were, the ritual would be the efficacious source of whatever grace is envisioned to come through it, regardless of how carefully one may attempt to formulate the concept to make it seem otherwise. NT rituals (baptism and the Lord's Supper) are merely a symbolic and/or memorial celebration of what one already possesses--an outward sign of an inner reality possessed apart from the sign.

Paul's comparison of believers' communion in the Lord's Supper to pagans' participation in the sacrifices of idolatry goes a long way in proving the point. Pagans were participating in their altars by eating the meat sacrificed upon them, much in the same way OT saints did with their altar in Jerusalem. The basis for pagan belief was non-existent--idols are nothing and can produce no aftereffect in what is sacrificed to them--but what the pagans were doing was worship, and therefore sin. Demons were the force pulling the strings behind the scene, so even though there was nothing to idols, even less to meat sacrificed to a nothing; what pagans were doing was, nonetheless, a "joining of hands" with demons and therefore forbidden to Christians.

Rather than substantiating the thought that there is "something going on" in the elements eaten from the table, Paul's argument actually undermines it. By comparing the Lord's Supper to the nothingness of idol sacrifice, Paul locates anything substantial in such participation in the faith it betrays in the honoree rather than in the elements of that honor. The problem with eating meat one knows is sacrificed to an idol is not in any heeby-geebies in the meat, but in what it says about one's faith in the false god (really, the demon) behind it.

Our participation in the Lord's Supper is actually of a similar sort of sharing as the pagans are "experiencing" at their altars. Substantially, spiritually, it's not about the bread or wine or the eating of it--its about faith and worship. The participation of the pagan idolaters in their altars did not require any reality of presence or substance in order for it to be real participation (and incur just condemnation), the same holds true for believers and the Lord's Supper. What makes the practice is not the presence or the substance, it's the faith the participant has in the God it celebrates.

With a bit more to follow...

A Bit About Communion

Biblical Development
From Jesus' institution of the memorial until Paul's exposition of it as the Lord's Supper, the ritual known as Communion seems to have developed significant qualities. For Jesus the rite was associated with the tradition of Passover in what appears to be a type/antitype relationship. The OT solemn ritual prefigured the sacrifice of Christ within its symbolic rehearsal of the Passover miracle. Though the entire ritual can be shown to point to Christ, Jesus recast those elements within the meal (bread and wine) which in particular served to reference his sacrifice over and above the Exodus miracle.

Only the elements Christ recast were mandated as the Christian memorial. The rest of Passover's symbology was jettisoned, the Jewish feast not carried over into NT practice. Some twenty years later, Paul seemingly strengthened the spiritual nature of the meal, invoking a mysterious (rather than merely sacred quality), by claiming that unfortunate consequences result when one mishandles it. The offense involved is against the body and blood of Christ, not against mere decorum, and could result in death.

Symbol, Metaphor and Memorial

It is obvious that the feast from which the Lord's Supper derived was a symbolic ritual. Only in the actual occurrence of the Passover on the last night in Egypt was efficacious blood painted on the lintels and doorposts, only then was death to the firstborn actually avoided and freedom secured. All the celebrations of Passover since that singular event were symbolic retellings, including that which Jesus gave new meaning to. What was eaten, in the way it was eaten, pointed back to an actuality that had happened long before without any hint that the retelling secured freedom or redemption or in any way mysteriously connected to it after the fact. It was memorial.

Though Christ was giving new meanings to elements, and pointing the retelling to a different redemptive act (his own death and resurrection), there is nothing that can change the fact that it was symbolic. When first initiated, the act referenced had not even occurred! Were the Disciples and Apostles in that upper room mysteriously in the presence of Christ through partaking those elements? Were they made part of the one body through it? Were they spiritually connected to the benefits of the cross thereby? It would be anachronistic at least and ridiculous at worst to envision any of those kinds of things as occurring in that first, really last, Supper. And if not in the first, with Christ, then why in any of those afterward remembering him?

Though I believe literal interpretation is the way to handle the scriptures, taking figures of speech literally means apprehending the referent of the figure. The Bible identifying Jesus as the Lamb of God doesn't mean that Christ is specially present in ovines (even sacrificial ones) any more than identifying us as sheep means that we are. Christ is not made of wood and hinges though he is called a gate, nor is Christ in any way present in or with bread and wine though the scriptures say that they are the body and blood of Christ. The spilling of Christ's blood and the breaking of his body was a singular historic occurrence: the feast is a symbolic way of retelling, remembering, and celebrating that occurrence. As it was in Passover, so it is in the Lord's Supper.

A bit more to follow...

Sin's Effects on the Christian

I have said that my sins were put aside and the way to God was opened to me without regard to my sin: past, present or future. All my sin for all my life was wrapped up and put in Christ once and for all. He suffered its just retribution; so now,  I am an invited guest in the presence of God without so much as a shadow of sin over me. The curtain between us has been destroyed by God and can never be put back in place.

That is not to say, however, that sin committed after being born again cannot have any effects on the believer. It may not separate him or her from the love of God in Christ Jesus, but it can adversely effect what we do experience in God. Let us look at a couple of possibilities (not to say there are not others).

Sin Can Hinder Our Prayers
If anyone cherishes (i.e, hides like a treasure) some sin in his or her heart, the Lord is not obligated to look past that and hear them as if they were dealing with God sincerely. Peter applies this principle specifically to abusive Christian husbands (never mind the contradiction in terms), so it is not merely an OT construct. There is, of course, a difference between sinning and cherishing sin in the heart, but the latter at least seems to raise a question in the mind of God as to whether or not that one truly has faith in Christ.

For those that acknowledge sin as sin (i.e, they say the same thing as God does about it), they have no "sound barrier" with God. They confess it, he is faithful and just and forgives their sin and cleanses them from all unrighteousness. They stand before God in Jesus’ stead (name), heard, and their prayers answered.

Sin Can Torpedo Our Faith
By not maintaining a good conscience, or not doing what you know God would have you do, one can undermine how his or her heart perceives God. It is not something that happens in an instant. Over time, if one continues to act by the principle that sin doesn't matter, or by the assumption that God won't mind, eventually that one will come to the conclusion that God doesn't matter. Even if his words never say it, his faith as reflected in his actions will betray his absolute lack of trust in God. God can never be fooled, and faith can be shipwrecked.

Nonetheless, notwithstanding these considerations, the principle is clear and founded upon an unmutable fact of history, my sin has been put aside. Jesus became my sin and suffered my punishment; therefore, I am justified in Christ. I can fellowship with God, just as if I'd never sinned; talk with God, just as if I'd never sinned; experience peace with God, just as if I'd never sinned; and countenance no condemnation, just as if I'd never sinned! Sin may have its effects on the Christian, but thankfully Christ has a better effect on the Christian's sin.

Latency, Interference, and Regeneration

God has designed mankind with certain capacities and abilities which have been retained despite the Fall, even though everything about us has been tainted from being born apart from God and controlled by self-will. We have a capacity to believe, even as sinners, though left to our own devices that capacity ignores God as he is and opts for gods of our own construction. I would call this circumstance, Latency. There is a capacity for faith built into the human being by God and it exists, even if imperfect and impotent, within every human being.

Left to our own devices, we would never bother with the true God. The ones we make up are much more manageable and a lot less scary. Some opt for the most dismal and foolish alternative in not bothering with gods at all. We would wander off to hell obliviously if something or someone didn't disrupt our journey. Without a catalyst acting upon our latent capacity for true faith in the true God, we would never cross the threshold of believing unto righteousness. What was not possible in ourselves becomes possible with the intervention of God. Let's call this disruption, Interference. This gracious interposition comes our way by the word of Christ and the conviction of the Holy Spirit.

If something did not conserve the impact of God's interference, which gave faith an opportunity to sprout, we would quickly devolve back to our former state, or worse, soon after experiencing it. We need a restructuring of our mind/body/spirit combo if we are to experience any lasting effect from God's interference. When faith is expressed in Christ due to the influence of God's interference, God reinspires the dead human spirit causing one to be born again. Let me call that infusion, Regeneration. Without that renewal, no human being is either fit or able to enter into God's kingdom.

From start to finish, the remaking of a lost sinner into a child of God is God's doing. Latency and interference giving rise to regeneration was his idea, and proceeds according to his design. That it is conditioned on faith in the sinner changes nothing, it is as God wants it to be.

The Sufficiency of God II

In highlighting the sufficiency of God, rather than that of the scriptures, I am addressing a shockingly erroneous viewpoint of Christianity that has folk endeavoring to live a life that looks nothing like that presented in the scriptures. These folk are always cessationists, and more often than not, Calvinists. For them, living a godly life is getting out a slide rule and compass, as it were, and applying them to the scriptures, trying to calculate how to do Christianity without exhibiting hardly any of the features that were practiced by the Apostles and the early church and recorded in scriptures. 

The Bible is all-sufficient to guide our faith--what we should believe, and sufficient to guide our practice--these are the kinds of things we should experience and these are the things to avoid, but it is meant to produce a life like it describes. That includes God speaking in real time, the Holy Spirit influencing direction and decision, and inspiring speech and deeds. To pursue some folks view of the sufficiency of scriptures, one, in effect, must white-out huge tracts of the word, all in the name of the word being sufficient. Sufficient for what, I might ask, producing life pretty similar to life without God? Honestly, the only motivation I can see for such action is unbelief!

The wrong view of sufficiency ends up with the believer treating God agnostically, as if he came, dropped off this book and then disappeared, unheard from ever since. The practical effect of such a view is that we are not brought up to the lap of God, through Christ, but stuck behind a curtain trying to figure out life by our best reckoning from the book. That seems to me an empty thing to attribute to the living God.

If we are holding up the word as sufficient in defining and directing Christianity, that sufficiency should entail producing a life that matches what the word describes and exhorts us to experience. Anything else, anything less is a disservice to the Word, not an homage to its sufficiency. When cessationists arrogantly cast aspersions on those endeavoring to walk in the promises of the word, while they staunchly cling to their lack of biblical experience, I must admit I get irritated. If all they offer in their view of the sufficiency of scripture is a "glass empty" vision of life with God actively removed, I think I'll gladly stay with the sufficiency of God.

Why Is Grace So Amazing?

We need to be near God. Just to be in his presence is to know life, and there, fullness of joy is the very air breathed. God certainly has charisma, as much as a being could have, but it's more-- he has substance and energy, he is zoe. If we are separated from God, all that is shut off from us and death ensues. If we are not in the light of his presence, there is nothing but darkness of soul, emptiness of heart, despair of tomorrow, and wasting away away into vanity.

God knows we need him, and yet our sin separates us from him. The discerning among us know that we need him and that our sin has separated us from him. Many who have such insight, in response, ache to be holy, righteous, in order to correspond to the God who is life. So they can be near him and breathe in what he is and live. Toil and struggle to align themselves with the holy God becomes the religious quest of such folk, but there are dangers lurking for such valiant efforts...

Glad of God, but disappointed with self, melancholy shadows their days. Grace, to them, is that God doesn't give them what they deserve. They do get to experience God, but with their heads hanging down, their own feet filling their view. But what about grace should be about us? Grace is not obsessed with our unworthiness nor our inabilities. Grace is about God, about his kindness, his love, his desire to share himself with all he has made.

Grace is entire in its grant of acceptance. There are no ifs, ands, or buts. Grace starts out with everything being right, and then works backwards. It leaves the subject peaceful, not striving, and never uncertain. Grace moves us to a place with God and a peace with him. Too much for our comprehension, our thinking often has to run after to catch up to grace.

Thankfully, grace has long arms and strong hands.

Grace is amazing because it elevates us to mountaintops we could never climb ourselves. Grace is not crampons, or oxygen tanks, nor downy jackets that aid us in achieving what we could never achieve on our own. Grace is a helicopter ride to the top. It brings us near God without self-consciousness of effort. We're not the issue, nor is our incapability of the climb. Grace is about the heart of God and how genuinely he wants us up there with him.

And the view up there standing beside him, his hand on our shoulder...   it's spectacular!

Revival Jesus

I've written before about my growing lack of enthusiasm for what is promoted as revival. The recent pseudo-revival at Lakeland only serves to reinforce those thoughts. Now, there was a time when I thought revival was just what the doctor ordered for the ailing church, I mean I came to Christ in the midst of a revivalistic wave, for goodness sake.

State College, Pennsylvania was a truly happening place in the late 70's and early 80's. People were coming to Christ hand over fist. Miracles were occurring. God's presence was readily experienced, fellowship was sweet. I was too naive at the time to realize that what was happening then was revival on a small scale. I thought that, that was just how true Christianity was practiced. It was like the Bible was happening in life.

It was only the subsequent study of church history that made me realize what had actually occurred then in State College, and I ached to see it occur again.

I still have that longing, but I'm reticent to get on the revival bandwagon these days. Frankly, the record of revivals since WWI has been spotty at best... "a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing." They fall like a meteor, make a splash, but given just a short time, the waters go still with scarcely a ripple left to evidence that anything happened at all. Why? 

It seems to me, revival, as this generation knows it, tends to be about feelings of relief or emotional stirrings rather than about the person and majesty of Christ.

Folk lay in convulsing heaps bemoaning with loud sorrow their sinfulness longing for absolution, or fly around erratically like untied balloons in the joy of their spiritual experience. Either way, the emphasis is on the individual rather than Jesus, and eventually, such activity is bound to run out of steam when the self is tapped. Things then settle into a depressing, entropic sameness but lessness.

A few stalwart cowboys may try to rekindle the brands and restore the sizzle of flesh on fire, but their efforts tend to be more style than substance. Then the pining begins. All those folks want is to return to the experience, like addicts trying to catch that first rush again. I have to wonder why. Didn't they meet Jesus in the midst of all that experience? Wasn't he in himself sweeter than life? Didn't they joyously embark on a walk with him from then to eternity?

You see, I can't avoid the sneaking suspicion that what some of the revival hungry are really saying is that the Jesus thing doesn't truly work except in those special times. At all others, it produces substandard spirituality, with something missing, yielding no real satisfaction. The only Jesus worth experiencing is Revival Jesus. I've got to tell you, for me, that just does not compute. It's not what being a disciple, a brother, the redeemed is all about. It's not what is presented in the Bible.

It does not, and it never will get better than a personal, interactive fellowship with Christ. That is not revival, that is Christianity. I'll happily embrace, and longingly pray for a season of visitation and harvest, outpouring and filling for the church, but we need to keep our bearings straight. To love Revival Jesus better than Jesus everyday is to flirt with idolatry. For me, everyday Jesus, just as he is, is more than enough.

"I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ " Philippians 3:8

The Tapestry of Eschatology

The First Scene

As the old man huddled over the scroll something sparked his interest.

It had been 67 years since he had left his beloved city as a youth. He had not left for fortune and fame, but in captivity and uncertainty, thrown out of Jerusalem by God himself, not likely to ever return. Regardless, he made up his mind to stay faithful, and God had been gracious through it all. Now, huddled over that scroll, nearing the final stretch of his days, his melancholy could not be masked. How he ached for the Jews and Jerusalem: God's chosen people, God's chosen city, would both be abandoned forever?

From the barren ground of such longing, unexpectedly, hope sprang forth from the words of Jeremiah: just 70 years had been assigned for the desolations of Zion. Restoration was soon to come, really, just around the corner. Daniel began to pray for the Jews and Jerusalem.

In answer to Daniel's confessions and supplications for the future of the Jews and Jerusalem, the angel Gabriel was dispatched with God's response to Daniel's pleas. In typical God-like fashion, the answer went beyond what Daniel thought or asked. In a nutshell, God said to Daniel, "I'm not done with the Jews or Jerusalem, I have fantastic plans for both. In fact, it will take 490 years for me to complete my work with and in them."

For all of us studiously scouring what was given to Daniel for clues as to how it will all end, we can never lose sight of the most salient feature of this vision: it's not that there are 70 weeks that is of utmost importance, but that those 70 weeks were decreed for the Jews and Jerusalem. If one does not understand this critical point, there is no way that one will ever arrive at a biblically coherent eschatology.

The Second Scene
An old man walks across the rocky landscape of his island abode alone.

Though he's not paying attention to where he walks, he navigates perfectly, lost in thought in God's presence. He remembered all that had transpired since his days as a youth traveling with Jesus. So much had happened since then: the gospel had spilled out of Judea and Jerusalem and was now well on its way to the four corners of the earth. Every kindred, tribe and tongue drawn into its net as it trawled the waters of humanity. All the old gang had died and were buried, martyrs for the cause, and John, himself, the last eyewitness of Christ, walked these isolated crags in exile. Perhaps, Truman-like, he wondered how it all would end?

A trumpet blast, heralding the appearance of the First and Last, shattered his ruminations. The Lord, himself, arrived at just the right moment with some awe striking answers. In the prologue of the Apocalypse, we are told those answers were not just to satisfy John's curiosity, but also yours and mine, any who are Christ's servants. The salient, but oft overlooked, feature of this prophecy is its stated purpose of telling what soon must take place. In fact, it is reiterated at least twice (Revelation 1:3 and 22:10) that its coming is near. No one could argue, at least not without doing injustice to the text, that the Revelation covers a lengthy period of time, one that actually extends into eternity, and yet the initiation of the period was to be near 95 AD.

The Common Thread
What we have in the figures of Daniel and John are two handpicked messengers of God who were both given a vision, at a critical time of transition, of what would happen from their time to the end of time for the people on their heart. Daniel's concerns were about the Jews, so God's revelation to him was specifically about the Jews. John's concerns were for the church (which encompassed every tongue, kindred and tribe) so God's revelation dealt both with the Gentile church age and the last 7 years of Daniel.

From Daniel's time to the end of time, God would work specifically with the Jews for a total of 490 years to bring them to redemption. The only proviso not readily apparent is that 483 of those years would pass in succession, but the last seven would be split off and follow much later than the rest at the very end of time. From John's time to the end of time, God would work through a series of periods which would culminate in the removal of the Gentile church and the final seven years of Daniel, and then the millennium and eternity.

What these two figures represent are parallel tracks of a singular story. They are tied together, but are absolutely distinctive. To tangle the threads is a recipe for disaster which will turn one's eschatology into a confusing wad of uncertainty. That's not what God gave us those stories for, so come with me on a journey to untangle the mess and see the Tapestry of Eschatology in its stunning beauty  and clarity.

The Audience of Worship

Who is the intended audience of the "worship" segments of congregational meetings?

If the answer is the visitor or newcomer, those segments are designed, like everything else in such churches, to appeal to the next one in the door. That one must be prospected, projected and then specifically, strategically prepared for and enticed. It's a marketing thing, often a niche marketing thing, but is it a worship thing?

If the answer is the folk sitting in the congregation, those segments are designed, often very responsively, to retain those returning through the door. The wants, wishes, even grumbling, of those will guide, forestall or derail any attempt to change the status quo. It's an appeasing, people-pleasing thing, but is it a worship thing?

If the answer is people, regardless of the considerations above, the goal of those fronting "worship" time will be to thrill, or at least to satisfy, the cash paying audience in the seats. The likelihood is that those leaders will be inordinately attended to by both the audience and the church "promoters" who enlist them, everyone together "stoking the star-maker machinery behind the popular song." It's a pop concert or stage show thing, but is it worship?

An innocent misstep a sincere worship leader can make is tugboating-- attempting to lead the folk into the port of "presence." However, playing David to the congregation's Saul is not a New Testament paradigm. The folk in the seats are not faithless fakes who have no God inside them and so have to be pushed from without. They are a living temple, a habitation of the Holy Spirit. The worship team doesn't have to "take them into the throne room," they're already there! 

The issue in corporate worship is the congregation's recognition and acknowledgement of God with them, in them, and their appropriate response to him. With all of this in mind, then, who is the audience of worship?

None other than God himself, and God and no one else. When someone says, "worship was great today!" he or she is utterly deluded if they had the worship team's performance in mind. However, if they had the congregation's participation and God's manifest presence in mind, they'd be keenly insightful. When worship is truly worship, the church is the orchestra, the Spirit is the maestro, and God is the audience.

The Word Says, "Just Breathe"

If we don't live by a code or law, if there is nothing we can earn or merit, if our records do not effect our salvation, how then do we live? The simple and straight forward answer is that we live out of the Spirit that God endued us with when we were born again. We live inspired, not perspired lives. Our existence is a promenade with God-- we walk hand and hand with him where he's walking. Where he goes we go, what he does we do, what he says we say. It's the life model of Christ.

The Christ inspired life is not about passing some proficiency exam or earning continuing ed credits to advance up a ladder. It's about the grace that allows a human to live in loving partnership with the God, our Creator. Folk that attempt to live by a code are not generally folk that experience God personally. They, in effect, are trying to jam their good deeds down God's throat and he, in response, gags at their company.

God sees all our works: all the failure, all the sin, all the self-serving, self-centered acts of willfulness, not just the acts we want him to see. Since our good deeds in themselves can never erase bad ones, and everyone sins, trying to earn or maintain favor from God on the basis of our works gets us nowhere. His favor is all we have going for us; apart from Christ, we have nothing. 

In an emergency, the desperate cry that's often heard is "Somebody, do something!" In our desperation to be at peace with God, our panicked souls often invoke that same cry, but ironically, they do so reflexively. We're that somebody, and so we seek to save ourselves. However, the something that needs doing has already been done by someone else. And so perfectly, in fact, that nothing else could be or needs to be done in addition.

Our rescuer stands by us, alive and well, the victor over hell and death. Oxygen mask in hand, he offers us the breath of life. All we need to do is accept it and breathe in. Yet many of us balk. Why do we find it so hard to acknowledge our own inability to save ourselves or to keep ourselves saved? Are we so prideful that we'd rather go down in flames trying to do it ourselves rather than yield, child-like, to the rescue of God?

What a lot this life is! Looking to keep us far from the help we actually need the devil says, "Look what you've done!" Looking in the mirror of pride the flesh says, "Look what I've done!" Looking at the cross Jesus died on faith says, "Look what Christ has done!" And cutting to the very marrow, the Word says, "Just breathe."

On the Road to Emmaus

In the Wizard of Oz, the dramatic tension breaks when Toto pulls back the curtain to reveal a rather stodgy old man behind all the pyrotechnics and bluster. None of it had been real. The shivering dread of the Wizard melted and immediately turned into recriminations, but after some explanations turned into familiar friendship. With no more curtain there was no more distance, no more show, no more uncertainty.

I fear too many Christians have a Wizard of Oz relationship with Christ. He's not a real figure to them-- if anything, maybe just a scary voice in their heads, perhaps projecting from a lifeless representation hanging on a cross screwed to a wall, assumed to be infused with ultimate, frightening, cosmic power (but really, who knows?). But what about the real Jesus, you know, that guy walking on the road to Emmaus with a couple of disciples on a Sunday afternoon? Or what about that fellow making breakfast for his buddies after a morning of fishing? Or the reality of the old hymn:

And He walks with me,
And He talks with me,
And He tells me I am His own.
And the joy we share as we tarry there
None other has ever known?

We presume a lot in the American church. We go to altars with tears and foreboding, confess all that's not right with us (at least in summary form), invite Jesus into our hearts, and then press cruise control and go on with life, eternal life insurance now safely in hand. I don't know how we convince ourselves that all this works, when the first time God gets a little too close and a little too real, we're scared witless and want to run away.

Let revival break out, let Ichabod be replaced by Ebenezer, and those who worship brass saviors on sticks will howl the loudest about emotionalism and excess. We have a real God, not a fake wizard. He was dead, but is no longer. Although we remember him until he comes again, he is not relegated to live only in our memories. We ought to be walking with him and talking with him now, actually.

Should we not be as excited as the first disciples were to see him alive again, to know that the passion wasn't the end, but only the beginning? I see no reason that we should not be as excited, enthused, and passionate about walking with Jesus and knowing him intimately as were they. Does knowing Jesus, the King of Glory thrill your heart and capture your imagination? If not, personal revival is sorely needed.

Thankfully, can be found somewhere along the road to Emmaus.