Concerning Life as It Is Supposed to Be

Category: Christian Life Page 7 of 9

The Danger of Pride

[Note: this is a continuing part of a series reproducing a sermon. An explanation can be found here.]

There is a clear correlation between being a Christian, loving Jesus, and having a desire to obey him. But we can be confused about how obedience fits in the Christian life.

There are Christians for whom obedience defines Christianity. For those, in the implied equation of

“If you love me, you will keep my commandments.” (15)

the second half of that equation is doing the heavy lifting. Keeping commandments becomes the focus. This seems good, but it inevitably leads to either great pride or great sorrow.

That is, one either thinks he is living a life of obedience, and is proud of that, and a bit (or a lot) judgmental of others who aren’t, or he realizes that he is NOT living a life of obedience, and is deeply pained by that.

The proud often will not be able to see their pride. We never think ourselves proud. But if we emphasize obedience, it will arise subtly in a series of several predictable steps.

1) We will see success in obedience in an area where we do not struggle. So, we may have no problem with discipline and self-control, and so we will see ourselves obedient to God in those things reflecting self-control.

2) We will then come to know someone who, say, is overweight or who sleeps late or whatever. These will be evidences in our mind of someone who lacks self-control.

3) We will quietly, privately perhaps, judge that person for his obvious lack of self-control.

4) We will be friendly, but condescending toward him, feeling innately superior. We will perhaps feel pity for the person, if not disdain, though we may outwardly maintain a friendly façade.

5) We will not even consider the possibility that the one we judge as lacking self control may have a medical condition effecting weight gain. Or he may be on medication, leading him to oversleep. And for sure we will ignore the fact that the one we judge as lacking self-control is wildly generous with his income, and we, inclined to fastidious greed.

Pride is an awful companion, but if we weigh-in too heavily on the second half of this equation, it is an easy path to follow and a hard path to escape.

The Music of the Heart

I want us to return to the passage we looked at last week. There we saw that the path from brokenhearted disappointment and fear to peace and rest, passes through a conscious grasp of the love Jesus has for us, and our response in love for him.

But just as Jesus’ love for us is not mere sentiment, but is evidenced through his actions, specifically his death, so, our love for Jesus is more than mere appreciative sentiment. Love for Jesus is evidenced by more than fervent emotion and vibrant singing. It is evidenced by obedience

Which simply begs the question: “What is obedience?” And the consequent query, “Do I love Jesus?”

It is safe to say that if you have no concern whatsoever about obeying Jesus, that you are not a Christian. That is not meant as a judgment. It’s similar to saying that if you don’t ever sit down at a keyboard, it’s probably a pretty safe bet to say that you are not a pianist.

I want us to consider our lives as a dance. The way we live is the way we dance. And the way we dance will be moved by the music that is playing in our heart. If the music of the Christian’s heart is the love of Jesus, then the dance that emerges will become as beautiful as what he hears in his head.

Pair-a-Sermons Lost

On October 9, 2011 I preached a sermon which, unlike most all sermons preached at Covenant Presbyterian Church, was not recorded. Ordinarily I would not have been too concerned about this, but this time I was a bit sad.

As far as sermons go, it was not one which was substantially better than any other sermon I have preached. However, this sermon did address issues which I know are of concern to many people. So I was sad that I would not be able to easily direct people to some content that might be of help to them.

The sermon centered upon John 14:15 where Jesus challenges his disciples with this statement:

“If you love me, you will keep my commandments.”

Non-Christians and many Christians make the wrong assumption that Christianity is no more than a complex but carefully organized ethical system. To be a Christian means to have rules and to keep those rules.

Others have been introduced to the subject of grace and have subsequently been confused by the question of if and when and how to talk about rules and obedience in the Christian life.

This sermon is set in the context of several others (available here) on John 14 which trace Jesus’ instructions to his disciples hours before his death by which he intends to move them from despair to hope, from anxiety to peace. Obedience to him is a part of that. But HOW it is a part is what the sermon attempted to explore.

To make the content of that sermon available, I intend to post its content here. To keep from overwhelming the reader with a single 4000+ word post (which would be unbearable) I will divide the sermon by points and post each daily over the next couple weeks. If nothing else, for two weeks these will serve as a kind of daily devotional.

I am going to try to resist the impulse to apply heavy and extensive editing to what were simply my original sermon notes. What you will get here is basically what was before me the morning that I preached it. These notes were intended to be spoken and heard, not written and read, and so they will reflect some of that particular quality.

I trust that these thoughts will be of some benefit to those who read them. My heart’s desire, for myself, for those I love, for those who read these words, is that we would delight in our God, and that that delight would be reflected in the way we love to live our lives.

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NOTE: After the above was written, I learned that the sermon I preached on October 16, the following Sunday, was not recorded either. Having seen the effort required to post the notes from one sermon, there is little to no chance that I’ll do this again. But this at least gave me the opportunity to create a witty title.

Well, witty to me, anyway.

The Deep Parts

Buried in the positive messages of blessing and prosperity in the book of Proverbs are these wise observations about human sadness.

The heart knows its own bitterness, and no stranger shares its joy. (14:10)

Even in laughter the heart may ache, and the end of joy may be grief. (14:13)

Solomon (and possibly Smokey Robinson) understood the deep parts of our hearts which few rarely see.

UPDATE: Apparently the Smokey Robinson link doesn’t work. Puzzles me. Perhaps this works?

Why We Never Feel Complete

Donald Carson reflecting on Jesus’ command to love one another points out the standard of that love is his own sacrificial death on the cross. This helps explain why Christians as they mature find that they are able to see their sin more clearly. As the cross comes more into focus, so does our need of that cross.

“The more we recognize the depth of our own sin, the more we recognize the love of the Saviour; the more we appreciate the love of the Saviour, the higher his standard appears; the higher his standard appears, the more we recognize in our selfishness, our innate self-centeredness, the depth of our own sin. With a standard like this, no thoughtful believer can ever say, this side of the parousia, ‘I am perfectly keeping the basic stipulation of the new covenant.'” (D. A. Carson, The Gospel according to John, page 484.)

This also explains why it is so astounding to hear anyone claim that they are without sin.

John Stott, 1921-2011

Today, God added one more saint to his cloud of witnesses. And somehow, though I never met him, I feel a sense of loss. When asked to list those Christians living and dead who have had the most significant impact upon my ministry, the name of John R. W. Stott has always seemed to come up. If his name is unfamiliar to you, you can read an obituary here.

My first exposure to Stott came in college through his book Basic Christianity. I was already a Christian but found his careful expression of the Christian faith something that deepened and solidified my own commitment. And I remember clearly his respectful invitation to non-Christians to read and give consideration to what he was saying. He invited them to hear, he did not hound them to believe.

In 1979, Barb and I had the privilege of attending the Inter-Varsity Urbana Missions Convention where John Stott lectured daily on the book of Romans. A rich theological and biblical foundation was being laid for me day after day. And though I cannot today tell you anything he said I can say that I ‘caught’ through that an attitude of respect for the Bible and a love for the importance of a Biblical theology. Stott modeled that.

Shortly thereafter I plunged into Stott’s Christian Mission in the Modern World which gave my wife and I a sense of God’s heart for the whole world. We became persuaded that a career in missions was what God had in store for us. That persuasion led us to seminary where God turned my heart toward pastoral ministry. But that sense that the mission of God encompassed all peoples was not something that has ever left me.

As a preacher I have long learned to depend upon a series of commentaries Stott championed and called The Bible Speaks Today. His contribution to that series included a volume on Acts which came to me at a time when my vision for what the church was meant to be was maturing and expanding. I was not left the same.

And several times I have read his book on preaching, Between Two Worlds, and have been encouraged and challenged to persevere in what can be an exhausting and draining task. And those who have listened to me will appreciate the answer Stott gives to the question of how long a sermon should be: “It does not matter as long as it seems like twenty minutes.” Wise answer, that.

In 2004, NY Times columnist David Brooks penned a remarkable tribute to Stott. In an age when the news media would rush to find the most extreme examples of Christian thinking to comment on whatever issues were in the news, Brooks wondered why none ever thought to seek the insights and wisdom of a man who was the best representative of Christianity.

I came to Stott’s magnum opus, The Cross of Christ late. Having just preached on John 12:31 I feel a need to return to his mature reflections upon the central event of our Christian faith.

All this could be said about the influence of any scholar and model pastor upon a younger generation, I suppose. But there is something more. I cried shortly after reading about Stott’s death. It’s not that I have lost a friend. I never met him; how can I call him that? It’s not that I feel the church on earth is weakened by his absence; his influence has been minimal in recent years. Rather, I think I cried because of these words written by his associate and biographer Timothy Dudley-Smith and quoted by Justin Taylor:

He thinks of himself, as all Christians should but few of us achieve, as simply a beloved child of a heavenly Father; an unworthy servant of his friend and master, Jesus Christ; a sinner saved by grace to the glory and praise of God.

He modeled that for which I long: to know myself primarily “as a beloved child of a heavenly father.”

To whatever degree I am in the least bit able to live my life to the glory and praise of God, John Stott has played a role in that. I thank God for the privilege of falling under his influence.

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UPDATE: A good tribute is this from Don Sweeting, president of Reformed Theological Seminary in Orlando.

Hearing the Voice

I don’t see dead people.

But I hear voices. Or, perhaps I should say, I hear ‘the Voice’.

Take your hand away from the phone. Don’t be calling the guys in the white jackets just yet.

But I’m serious. I hear the voice that we all hear. The voice that says, “That’s not really true.” I hear the voice of doubt.

I’m not saying that the Voice is audible and I’m not saying that the Voice is welcome. But I would be lying if I said that I was a stranger to the Voice.

The Voice is annoying when I’m praying. It whispers to me that praying is a waste of time, that there is no God to hear me, that to imagine him hearing and responding to the prayers of a billion people is just fantasy. I do my best to ignore it and to remember that a man once, who rose again from the dead, found that prayer was very important.

The Voice is threatening when I’m traumatized. It speaks questions to my heart challenging the claims of the love of this one whom we call God. It is quite the logical voice, speaking in propositions which begin with some variation of “If this God was real…” or “If this God really loved you….” Like Christian fleeing the city of destruction, all I can do sometimes is put my hands over my ears and try my best not to listen.

But, I confess, I sometimes am taken in. I believe the Voice. I want to believe the Voice. I want to be led beside waters of self pity and to wallow in the muddy fields of rotten luck. I give into the Voice for a time, but somehow I always emerge. Someone comes along and says, unknowingly, and in so many words, “What are you doing there?”

I long for the day when the Voice is silenced. When his threatening tones are no more. When try as I might, I won’t be able to hear. When the only voice I will hear will be that of a Good Shepherd.

But until then, I’ll still hear the Voice. I’m comforted that others have heard the Voice and persevered – Spurgeon, Luther, John the Baptist, and our patron saint, Thomas. And I’m grateful to be and to have been in churches where people are honest enough to admit that they hear and listen to the Voice. Such honesty helps me realize that the Voice has no real substance and his logic no real basis.

But still, I listen. And I grieve for those who find no outlet to admit what they hear and how they struggle. In sympathy, a man has put together an online group called Doubters Annonymous [via Justin Taylor] and this is a good and courageous thing. I’m just sad that such cannot be admitted openly in the church. I’m sad that anonymity seems necessary.

In hearing the Voice, I figure I’m in good company. Like everyone. I also know that there are answers to every question the Voice throws at me. Just sometimes I’m not in a frame of mind to hear those answers. I just need to be loved and embraced and supported.

But I also know that Jesus died and rose again. For hearers of the Voice. It’s His voice, then, that I strive to hear above the din.

And I do. But often I hear it through the means of fellow pilgrims. And for them, I’m grateful.

Prayer, Social Action, and the Daily Paper (the What?)

That many aspects of Richard F. Lovelace’s warm and wise Dynamics of Spiritual Life show the book’s age (it was first published in 1979) is illustrated in his assumption that Christians or anyone still reads newspapers. No doubt, he had never heard of the internet. Dated caveats aside, I wish I had read this book in 1979, so full of sense and Biblical wisdom it is. Representative is this, an encouragement I need to take more seriously:

Most American Christians would probably assume that prayer…has little to do with social action. This is because most of those who are praying are not praying about social issues, and most of those who are active in social issues are not praying very much…. Local congregations pray about their members, programs, budgets and evangelistic outreach. How often do they pray about the social needs of their community or the nation?…The best advice for both ministers and laity is to read the daily paper [!] while thinking biblically in dependence on the Spirit, turning the information gained into prayer. (392-393)

See? Warm, wise, life-changing spiritual common sense.

Reflecting on the Incarnation

I read this morning this thoughtful and reflective sermon by B. B. Warfield, Imitating the Incarnation. I rarely find it easy to read sermons. This one is different. Not only does it heighten our awe for the Christ who became man, but it challenges our thinking about the goal of Christian living. Very warm, pastoral, and moving, this.

Warfield is preaching on Philippians 2:5-8.

“The one subject of the whole passage is Christ’s marvelous self-sacrifice. Its one exhortation is, ‘Let it be this mind that is also in you.’ As we read through the passage we may, by contact with the full mind and heart of the apostle, learn much more than this. But let us not fail to grasp this, his chief message to us here,—that Christ Jesus, though He was God, yet cared less for His equality with God, cared less for Himself and His own things, than He did for us, and therefore gave Himself for us.”

From this, Warfield concludes

1) that we have a God who is capable of self-sacrifice for us.

2) a life of self-sacrificing unselfishness is the most divinely beautiful life that man can lead

3) that it is difficult to set a limit to the self-sacrifice which the example of Christ calls upon us to be ready to undergo for the good of our brethren.

This is worthy of multiple reads and deep reflection.

“Their Faith in God Is Strong”

This from the front page of yesterday’s NY Times:

More Christians Flee Iraq After New Violence

(If you click through, you may be asked to sign in. I don’t believe there is a charge to create an account.)

And this from that story:

“Their faith in God is strong,” said the Rev. Gabriele Tooma, who heads the Monastery of the Virgin Mary, part of the Chaldean Catholic Church in Qosh, which opened its monastic rooms to 25 families in recent weeks. “It is their faith in the government that has weakened.”

For many of us, the opposite is true. We trust government more than we trust God.

What would we be willing to endure to switch that around? I thank God that I live under a stable government. But I don’t want my faith to rest in it.

Pray for these Christians in Iraq and other places from whom we have so much to learn.

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