Read this before you say I'm a downer

A General Word of Caution to the casual reader:

It may appear that my recent posts have been negative in nature. I say "it may appear" because none of these topics is seen in a negative light by the author. I see, for example, liberty in the release of material wealth. I see liberty in the embrace of victory over sin given to us in Christ. I see joy in the knowledge of depravity (for how else can we understand grace?).

I say this all to say that I am fully separating external circumstance from internal peace. The reader will need to, then, adjust his eye to see through comments on externals into the heart. The Christian needn't be downhearted or sad about his putting off the things of temporal import in exchange for eternal focus. Indeed, disquiet or mourning of these losses must cause us to look deeper for a reson. If a follower of Christ is saddened at the thought of poverty, he must not merely seek to not be sad, he must search his heart for the veil covering the joy of sonship. Only by deepening of relationship with our Savior will we ever begin to release the dead things we cling to for life.

I hope, by this explanation, that I have helped any who have thought previous remarks harsh. What you see is not the harshness of the hair shirt but the glory of death on a cross. The world looks on the former as noble and the latter as foolishness. We must look, instead, for the Truth.

The more things change, the more they stay the same

John Owen:

"Hence there is a noise of religion and religious duties in every corner, preaching in abundance, — and that not in an empty, light, trivial, and vain manner, as formerly, but to a good proportion of a spiritual gift, — so that if you will measure the number of believers by light, gifts, and profession, the church may have cause to say, “Who hath born me all these?” But now if you will take the measure of them by this great discriminating grace of Christians, perhaps you will find their number not so multiplied." (Of the Mortification of Sin in Believers)

The church is full of gifted, smart, professing people. Indeed, as Owen says in this powerful paragraph (written in 1656), if we're to count the "members" of the church by giftings, professions, and intellect (he calls it "light"), the numbers could cause one to ask in amazement "Who hath born me all these?". However, when the church fails to confront sin, to be gatekeepers of Truth, to express complacency - a powerful influence of the world, no doubt - with respect to the souls of those who profess, the church fools itself. The church today speaks of sin in terms that often feed the complacency of her members. Preachers today speak of fallenness and frailty in terms that give confidence to the member, not that he possesses the power to overcome sin through Christ, but that Christs' sacrifice means he needn't bother to even think about sin. Grace becomes an end rather than a means. It is enough for the member to understand that he received grace. Surely we needn't bother explaining how to exercise that grace in his life in worship and gratitude. Surely we needn't urge members to apply the grace they have received to their hearts daily to experience the victory over sin that grace represents. Rather, it is enough that grace is delivered. We may now live as if we're ignorant of its power and of the price at which it was bought. Almighty God, save us from complacent churches.

Indulge me for a moment

Several of Luther's 95 theses were directed toward a practice known as selling indulgences. Basically, for the right price, forgiveness could be purchased for you or a loved one. Sellers of indulgences would say that you could instantly release your deceased relative from purgatory if you put the right amount of money in the bucket. The pope wanted to redocorate St. Peters basilica? Time for more indulgences.

Luther rightly comdemned the practice as unbiblical and cruel. However, there is one aspect of the practice that I'd like to explore with you. In order to buy an indulgence, a person would have to acknowledge that a sin was committed that needed to be forgiven.

In the 21st century American church, we're way too sophisticated to do anything as silly as buy and sell forgiveness, but have we also stripped sin of its meaning? If we use church only as a place to validate our lifestyles and have our existential experience for the week, are we any better than those who thought they could pay their debt to God?

If we call nothing sin (while certainly acknowledging that we're all sinners...it's a neat trick) then the value of Christ's sacrifice diminishes. The purchasers of indulgences were at least aware that their sin had a price. Certainly, their thoughts about that price and the payment for it were totally wrong, but are our thoughts about them any better?

Capital Idea

What if, whenever we were given anything (even things we "earn"), before anything else happened, we meditated on the sufficiency of Christ. Would that affect the things we did afterward? Surely, if we took the time to consider our real need and not the avarice of our hearts, we would end up truly seeking the best interest of others before even asking what we need. Instead, we (and I am including myself) decide what I'll take and consume prior to even considering other uses for the stuff (I'm speaking of both money and "things of value" in general).

What I'm really saying is, why do we consider what we will give and not ask instead what we will keep. If we looked at our lives and really considered our consumption, we would be forced to consider the "rightness" or "wrongness" of our choices. Instead, we talk about what we give in order to comfort our conscience and pat ourselves on the back.

My brain hurts

Tomas a Kempis has some sobering words for the reformed thinker in me:

"What good does it do to speak learnedly about the Trinity if, lacking humility, you displease the Trinity? Indeed it is not learning that makes a man holy and just, but a virtuous life makes him pleasing to God. I would rather feel contrition than know how to define it. For what would it profit us to know the whole Bible by heart and the principles of all the philosophers if we live without grace and the love of God? " - (Imitation of Christ, Chapter 1)

"Every perfection in this life has some imperfection mixed with it and no learning of ours is without some darkness. Humble knowledge of self is a surer path to God than the ardent pursuit of learning. Not that learning is to be considered evil, or knowledge, which is good in itself and so ordained by God; but a clean conscience and virtuous life ought always to be preferred. Many often err and accomplish little or nothing because they try to become learned rather than to live well. " - (Imitation of Christ, Chapter 3)

Thomas was reacting to the scholastics and their increasing insistence on splitting theological hairs and making subtle and nuanced arguments about topics that, often, had little to do with a saving knowledge of God. In the reformed faith, we tend to have the same comfort with religious discourse and the same discomfort with dirty, messy, hard life. The Bible becomes a textbook where can be found correct chronologies and generations and doctrines. Conversely, it is robbed of it's power, ceases to convict, no longer challenges for change. It does not lose these things intrinsically, it simply is never considered in the mind that only reads the scripture as a history book. The text, rather than its author, becomes the desire of the reader.

GPS, where are you?

There is a disconnect which festers like a splinter in my finger. Perhaps I have picked at it a bit too much, but the sore has grown infected and painful to the touch. I speak, of course, of claiming a citizenship in the next life - of being a stranger here - while building a life and pursuing things which are as worldly as atheistic capitalists. What would it look like to slow down? What would it look like to simplify? How can I teach my children that Jesus did not live the American dream? There's a harshness in my attitude now that could easily cause those I love to resent the life I envision when I think of Jesus. If that resentment came to pass, I would be no better than the crushing judges of Jesus' own day. How, then, can I lead them into an experience of the love of Christ - one that would take us all down the path of simplicity and kingdom work together? The whisper in my ear says "patience". I don't think anything will be undone overnight. It may take a generation. If I can teach my children to pursue the God of creation instead of stuff, instead of what the world would call success, instead of money, instead of leisure (or redifining leisure as the pursuit of deeper relations with the Saviour) - to seek the blessor instead of the blessing - to steward and not consume.