When Emotions Run Away With Us

God is an emotional being. He's created us, in his image, with the capacity for emotions as well. Unfortunately, in our fallen condition, sometimes ours get overwhelming, or run away with us, and the results are often not pretty. Sometimes we become blubbering, incapacitated, tear factories. At other times we become focused, pursuers of ungodly ends. Runaway emotions seldom lead to good decisions, often lead to sin, and so we should endeavor not to let them get away from us as have some notable biblical examples.

Cain
Cain had some problems with sibling rivalry, and seems to me to be the first model of the sociopath. He was arrogant in regard to God and willful with respect to his own life. A stinging rejection of what he tried to shove down God's throat, combined with the ringing endorsement of his brother, Abel's offering to God touched off the anger button in Cain's psyche.

There's good reason the Word says don't let the sun go down on our anger. When we live in anger, stew in it, embrace it and make it our companion in life it will lead us to misery. Sin couches at the door looking to get the advantage over us. Anger, like my kids, leaves the door wide open for the undesirable to come in. When angry, we make rash choices and follow courses that don't lead us toward God. It's OK to be angry, it's not OK to sin.

Saul
Saul seemed to be an incredibly humble individual when he was young. I don't think it was true humility, but the distortion that arises when we compare ourselves with ourselves. When we do that and our circumstances are humble, we appear meek: when our circumstances change, so does such false humility-- into arrogance and jealousy. That is what happened to Saul.

If Saul had sought the approval that came from God, rather than worrying about the accolades of man, I wouldn't be writing this piece. But Saul was not a man after God's heart; in fact, he cared less about God's rejection than he did about being given second billing in the song of some schoolgirls. God is a jealous god. We, however, don't handle the emotion all that well. Let it run away with us and we end up running away from God, just like Saul.

Stay tuned, more to come...

Jesus Did the Work, But the Paycheck's Mine

I have no doubt whatsoever that I am saved by works. The Bible says so, both old and new testaments. If you are saved, or ever will be saved, it will be by works or you won't be saved at all. Good theology is based on the premise that the saved are saved by works.

I'm not saved by going to church, tithing my increase, giving alms, or voting Republican-- not even by paying my taxes and refraining from kicking the dog. Generally, I hate Christian television and music, so I don't even get any brownie points for torturing myself with those things! Yet, I am 100% certain that works have delivered me unshakably into the arms of heaven.

Outrageous of me to think such, I know, but think it I do and with biblical confidence, I might add. It's not my works I'm depending on, but those of Jesus Christ. What I could not, and never could do, he did for me in my place, perfectly. He did the job so well, that it's finished with nothing that can be added to it to improve it.

His work has saved me, and I'm totally dependent on it. My life, however it not lived in the idleness of the rich and famous. Jesus did the work and I got the paycheck, so now I plan to spend all of it getting to know him.

Taking What I'm Given, Jesus Worked for My Living

We are saved by grace through faith. Famous words virtually every Christian knows. On one hand there are those who take those words to mean God's OK, we're OK, therefore anything's OK. On the other hand there are those who take those words as a challenge to produce an effective faith, therefore serious effort is made. I think perhaps we're not seeing the grace-faith connector clearly.

Grace is about God. It's about who he is, what's in his heart, and what he's provided for that which he's created. Grace is the joyful kindness of God. Out of the abundance (should I say the perfection) of that quality and the immutability of his character, God has made promises-- of provision, of opportunity, of response, of aid and comfort, of transformation. In a nutshell, grace is that in which, an un-lying, unchanging, omnipotent, timeless God, has already (timelessly) finished doing all that could be done for us.

Faith is about us. It's about our response to God, to his existence, to the likely nature of his being, to his word which confronts us not just with sound but Spirit too. Faith is the soul's reaction to God. Out of even a minuscule quantity of such in the soul, our existence and experience can be can be miraculously transformed. In a nutshell, faith is that which acquiesces to the mighty God, and compass-like, aligns with his direction.

When we understand the connection between grace and faith, our living relationship with God is transformed. For instance, the faithful do not give to curry God's favor, they give because they already have God's favor and always will. They do not pray hoping for an answer, they pray because they have one already. They do not do good works to earn the blessing of God, they do good works because God's blessing has already prepared them.

The old Hughie Lewis song decries the frustration of living piecemeal for piece rate. Much the same angst fills the hearts of too many in the church, their vision of God more akin to a parsimonious task master than the liberal Master of grace he is. What do they need? Faith, faith in the God of grace. They're already saved by grace, maybe it's time they started singing by faith, Taking What I'm Given, Jesus Worked for My Living. ;-)

The Twix Bar on the Way Home

My daughter just graduated from high school-- 4 down one to go! The following is abridged from the address I gave during her Baccalaureate service on May 31, 2009...

There are many noble ends upon which to expend the energy of life. For people of faith some make sense, others do not. For people like you, sitting in a religious service, who at least believe in God generally, and in Jesus Christ specifically, those ends must agree with your faith or there will be dissonance in your life.

You must pursue ends which will not cause you to look back with regret. You must pursue ends in such a way that you know all that could have been done to meet your goals was done. You must pursue ends that will not leave you with a gaping sense of emptiness because they were not swallowed up by an overarching awareness of the reality of God.

God is the ballast that steadies and rights our ship in life's rough waters. God is the grid which allows us to see things in their real dimension and to measure those inflationary moments which tend to pop leaving little in their wake. Lest it appear that I'm suggesting that God is the cosmic salt and pepper which adds flavor to everthing in life, let me clarify: God is not a nice accessory to life's ensemble, he's not the spice. He is the substance. He is the main course.

God is the 800 pound gorilla in the room. He can't safely be placed on a shelf to gather dust, we can't pretend he isn't there without risking harm. Even if we become entirely absorbed in our own thing, an aroma will still be wafting through the air that tells our hearts there's someone else bigger and stronger in the room with whom we have to do. We can never be sure he's adopted our agenda rather than his own, so we have no choice but to deal with him, honestly, thoroughly, first and foremost.

If you're a person of faith, pursuing a vision for life and stretching for goals apart from God can only result in a vacuous moment of achievement that ends with you wondering, "Is that all there is?" Pursuing a vision and stretching for goals with God on the sideline looking on can only lead to an abiding uncertainty that has you constantly wondering, "Is this right?" Pursuing a vision of God and stretching toward him is what puts everything else into perspective and leads to peaceful satisfaction as goals are achieved along the way.

So, at this place in life, decide once and for all whether or not you're a "God person." You're here because you are people of faith, so I hope you are a "God person." If so, make Jesus Christ your meat and potatoes. It is the only wise and sensible way of dealing with him. Then let everything else be the twix bar on the way home and you'll find your journey was sweet.

Jesus Walks Among the Churches

I turned around to see the voice that was speaking to me. And when I turned I saw seven golden lampstands, and among the lampstands was someone "like a son of man," dressed in a robe reaching down to his feet and with a golden sash around his chest. His head and hair were white like wool, as white as snow, and his eyes were like blazing fire. His feet were like bronze glowing in a furnace, and his voice was like the sound of rushing waters. In his right hand he held seven stars, and out of his mouth came a sharp double-edged sword. His face was like the sun shining in all its brilliance.
Revelation 1:12-16 NIV

When the Apostle John, lost in the Spirit one Sunday on Patmos, was blasted from behind by the trumpet like voice of Christ, he wasn't sure at first what was going on. He turned to behold a heavenly vision replete with symbolism and type. His heavenly vision has been the source of conjecture and confusion for the rest of us ever since, but it was not the author's intent that it to be so apprehended (or misapprehended). John's (and Jesus', the ultimate author) intent was clarity and applicability, but the church's interpretation has been mostly ethereal and cloudy.

The encouraging purpose and the revelation of watchful care conveyed in the opening lines of the prophecy are reiterated in the first vignette of the vision. Jesus, risen in glory, ruling in majesty from the heavenlies walks among the lampstands (or churches). Often, we think of him as far off, separated from the world we live in, in heaven out of direct touch. We have our job to do here, he has his to do there, at the end of time our paths will cross again. The vision says, "not so, that's not the way it works!"

Christ is intimately and actively engaged with the church in the here and now. In his hand, I would say as a symbol of doing his bidding, are the angels of the churches. They express his action and execute his command. They serve the heirs of salvation, and (I would add) fight for them. Each people may have its own prince, but each church definitely has its own star (see this).

Christ walks among us, his word sharp, dividing asunder soul and spirit. A word of power and life, strong not just in the heavenlies, but out here in Lampstand Land too. A word we have been given to proclaim, which even as we do, is uttered fresh from heaven--not an old, stale word, but one uttered in the always present. It may have been reduced to writing 2000 years ago, but it's being spoken with effect from heaven now.

His description is filled out in chapter three where we're told that in addition to the seven stars, the sevenfold Spirit before God's throne is also in his hand. Can you say filioque? Certainly, the Holy Spirit is the greatest gift we receive from the hand of Christ, but I think the image also speaks to our active means of connecting to, or fellowshipping with Christ, the risen Lord. After all, it's not bread and wine in his hand, nor a vial of holy water, but the sevenfold Spirit. 

The church is a place where Jesus walks and his presence is communicated through the Holy Spirit.

How God Sees the Church

That God should have a different perspective on church than we do should not be all that surprising--that we should have a different one than him after he's spelled out his is another thing all together. We get more than a glimpse of how God sees the church in the Seven Letters to the Seven Churches in the Revelation. We can gain insight from other passages of scripture as well. Together they show us that God views the church as the body of Christ and the family of God; that he sees the church locally and collectively, in the micro and in the macrocosm.

Consistently, God sees and deals with the church as one entity in a locality, hence the title of most of the Pauline epistles and the nature of the letters in the Revelation. God sees the church seamless, like Christ's garment, made of individual threads, but bound into a whole without the use of artificial connections. No matter how much we'd like to apply the lessons from the Seven Letters to individual, denominational congregations, it is hard to get past the facts that each locality has but one candlestick, one superintending angel, and was addressed by one letter.

Doubtless, in each of those towns there were many churches meeting in many different houses, but Christ addressed them collectively. It is therefore not truly accurate to see any denominational or individual local church as the proper addressee of any of the biblical letters. It would be better to see each as addressing a city-wide church, a conglomeration of local houses of worship, at least that is how it would have been understood by the original audience. No house of worship is really "the church" anywhere.

If the church actually saw itself the same way Christ does, our identity would not be so pinpointed as to exist without reference to other bodies (and cross-denominationally) in our immediate area. We would not act as if we were islands in the storm, but see that Christ-life, real life, our life together did not end at the walls of our own congregation, as if we were the church in where ever we are. Would there even be enough angels to go around if that was the case for the seven (the entirety) of the church?

Good Church/Bad Church

If the letters to the Seven Churches in Asia represent, as I have posited, a representative communication to the whole church throughout all time, then at any given time there would have to be some good churches, some bad churches and some that are a mixed bag. I think that was what was intended to be communicated by Christ Jesus, and is what has, in fact, been observed throughout church history.

Good churches, as Christ sees it (modeled by Smyrna and Philadelphia), are not necessarily what the average Christian today would call successes. Afflicted, poor, weak, persecuted by false believers and the state are qualities that Christ attributed to those pleasing churches. Despite their apparent lack of achievement, they are affirmed by Christ and promised a good end upon his return. Makes one rethink his or her commitment to church growth and being a Christian success, doesn't it?

Bad churches, as Christ sees it (modeled by Sardis and Laodicea), are indifferent, self-satisfied, sloppy morally, and materialistic. They have forgotten the Word and are in danger of being forgotten by Christ upon his return. Do the descriptives mainline or historical pop to mind here? A reputation for being the living church certainly doesn't make one so.

Mixed churches, as Christ sees it (modeled by Ephesus, Pergamum and Thyatira), are those that would otherwise be good churches except for some glaring flaw. Of the three, I find Ephesus the most troubling. Its description would make it the poster child for thriving evangelicalism today, but its loss of first love has it endangered instead. Really, it's stunning, shocking, and for me, an evangelical pastor, dismaying. Can anyone really be sure that Evangelicals are Rapture ready?

The other two suffer from readily evident and similar problems: instead of rousting false teachers, they tolerate them. As a result, some church folk are enticed into idolatry and sexual immorality. Though we live in a time that values toleration, perhaps these examples tell us this is no time to go soft on fornication and homosexuality.

Rolling for Lucky Seven

The series of sevens in the first three chapters of the Revelation, however cryptic they may seem, are relatively clearly identified by John. When it comes to symbols, I think the tendency of creative minds is to dig for some deeper meaning despite any simple identification, even if given by the author! Perhaps that seems too superficial for inquiring minds. Anyone remember Paul being dead?

I think that tendency leads to error in interpreting the Apocalypse, and produces anything but an understanding of what John and Jesus clearly wanted people to understand. A simple, straightforward reading which takes the text for what it says and doesn't feel the need to go beyond is what actually produces sense. Though there are unidentified symbols and surreal narrative sections, I think, on the whole, the Apocalypse is more forthright than many let on. KISS.

Case in point: the interpretation of the seven lampstands and the seven stars. In both cases, the antecedents for the symbols are clearly identified (see also the Seven Churches). Yet, there are those who look for further mysterious meanings, which tends to so subjectivize the text as to make it incapable of dependably meaning anything to anyone. How can we read the prophecy and take it to heart if we're speculatively rolling the dice looking for lucky seven?

The Seven Spirits of God

When John tells us there are seven spirits before the throne of God, our first reaction might be a monotheistic gasp. The concept of a trinity in the Godhead is hard enough to understand and defend, a nonet is beyond the pale. Since John was certainly no pagan polytheist, what does the reference mean?

Isaiah 11:2 may yield some clues about the reference. To say that the prophet delineates seven spirits of God is way more than a stretch, but it certainly suggests something. It seems the one Spirit can be properly referred to by his various attributes. The apocalyptic designation would perhaps be better understood, in that light, as the sevenfold Spirit of God, understanding the seven as an idealized expression of perfection in every aspect of God, the Spirit's being. There are other spirits about beside God, but by this reckoning, none of them could be called sevenfold.

That is generally verified by John's introduction of the the sevenfold Spirit in conjunction with the unnamed God on the throne (the Father) and Jesus Christ, the firstborn from the dead. The sevenfold Spirit is therefore part of a trinitarian formulation identifying the God who is controlling all that is about to be unfolded prophetically. As the Father and Son are perfect and united in purpose, so too with them is the oft forgotten member of the trinity, the Holy Spirit, united in purpose and perfect as well.

Between John's introduction and latter apocalyptic references to the seven Spirits of God, the attributes that seem most in focus for the Apostle (as opposed to those Isaiah highlighted) are omniscience and omnipresence. God on the throne is timeless (he was, and is, and is to come) and his sevenfold Spirit before him is likewise always present in the always present. The light of his perfection (lamps) always emanates from the throne room of God to the farthest places, illuminating the deepest darkness of space, time and spirit, bringing all within clear sight (eyes) of the God who sees all.