Master 267: Dealing with Brokenness

The following is a version of an article I submitted to an online Christian magazine that a friend of mine runs. If it's published, I'll post a link.

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What comes to mind when you think of "brokenness"? What images, ideas, or experiences occur to you? A divorced couple? A young man trapped in a drug addiction? A woman in the throws of depression? Someone elderly and ailing who’s been abandoned by family and friends? A family that's lost its home?

The list could go on, of course. And on, and on. I won’t try to give a single sweeping definition of brokenness. We’re all familiar with it. Brokenness is all around us and takes many different forms. Here I just want to highlight three common mistakes that people make when thinking about and trying to deal with brokenness.

Mistake #1: Trying to hide your brokenness and hide from your brokenness.

Let's be honest. It's not fun to admit that you're broken. No one wants to admit that he or she is at wit's end. We spend so much time trying to convince other people and ourselves that we have it all together. We're constantly comparing ourselves to others and trying to show that we're "as good" if not "better." The last thing we want to do is let people see our weaknesses and frailties. Feelings of guilt and shame, failure and inadequacy, lurk nearby. When things start to fall apart, our first impulse often is to hide that truth, from others and from ourselves.

The problem with hiding our brokenness and hiding from our brokenness is that in doing so, we cut ourselves off from the cure. A person who refuses to admit that he's sick is never going to get better. (Mark 2:15-17) To find healing and wholeness, we must be willing to open up to God and to others.

We see this in the experience of one woman who came to Jesus, as recorded in Luke's gospel (7:36-50). He describes the incident as follows:

"Now one of the Pharisees was requesting Him to dine with him, and He entered the Pharisee's house and reclined at the table. And there was a woman in the city who was a sinner; and when she learned that He was reclining at the table in the Pharisee's house, she brought an alabaster vial of perfume, and standing behind Him at His feet, weeping, she began to wet His feet with her tears, and kept wiping them with the hair of her head, and kissing His feet and anointing them with the perfume. Now when the Pharisee who had invited Him saw this, he said to himself, 'If this man were a prophet He would know who and what sort of person this woman is who is touching Him, that she is a sinner.'"

At first, this woman's experience might not seem to recommend being open with one's brokenness. Luke gives us the sense that as this woman steps into the open she is immediately subjected to judgment and condemnation. The Pharisee and his guests don't say anything, but it’s probably obvious what they are thinking.

But think about this: Would it have been better for this woman to have stayed away? Would it have been better for her to steer clear of Jesus altogether? If she had stayed away, think of what she would have missed. Read verses 40-47. There Jesus points out the Pharisee's hypocrisy. Before all his well-to-do guests, Jesus stands up for and protects this woman. Then He says to her: "Your sins have been forgiven. ... Your faith has saved you; go in peace." Imagine, for a moment, what it must have been like to be that woman--to have Jesus look into your eyes, with love and compassion, and say to you, "YOUR sins are forgiven. I love and accept YOU."

If she had refused to acknowledge her need for forgiveness, if she had stayed away and hidden from the dark truth about herself, she would never really have known and experienced the depth of Jesus' love for her and the power of his love and compassion to bring peace and wholeness into her life. If you’re facing brokenness in your own life and wondering how to deal with it--whether it is tied to sin or not--remember this: Openness is an essential ingredient for finding wholeness, healing, and peace.

Ask yourself: Can I admit to people that my child’s disability frightens me? Can I admit to people that my marriage is falling apart? That their ‘jokes’ or ‘teasing’ really hurt me? That sometimes just getting out of bed in the morning feels impossible? Can I admit to people how lonely I am?

Of course, when it comes to opening up to the people around us, some wisdom is called for. There are people, like the Pharisees of old, who will condemn and judge brokenness. "Being open" doesn’t mean allowing just anyone to know about your struggles; but it does mean allowing someone to help you deal with whatever challenges you’re facing. And above all, remember that Jesus is always ready to receive us, just as we are.

God expresses His love and care for the brokenhearted throughout Scripture. Here are just a few examples: Isaiah 61:1, Psalm 34:18; Psalm 147:3. God’s concern for the suffering and broken is written all across the pages of Scripture. But if that heart is misunderstood, it can lead to the second mistake that people (and especially Christians) can make when it comes to thinking about and dealing with brokenness.

Mistake #2: Thinking that brokenness is an especially holy or worthy condition.

If you've not run into this before, you might wonder: Are there really people out there who think of brokenness as an especially holy or ‘worthy’ condition? And the answer is: Yes. Sometimes well-meaning and sincere Christians will take passages like Psalm 34:18 ("The LORD is near to the brokenhearted") or Matthew 5:3 ("Blessed are the poor in spirit") and draw the conclusion that God wants people to be broken or that God prefers people to be poor in spirit.

Of course it is true that many Christians experience God’s immediate help and presence most fully during times of hardship and suffering. Many (like the woman we read about above) learn the most about God from seeing how he moves in the midst of our brokenness. But that doesn’t mean that God ‘prefers’ people who are broken or ‘favors’ those who are suffering.

Jesus encountered one version of this attitude in the religious leaders of His own time and He spoke against it. He said, "Whenever you fast, do not put on a gloomy face as the hypocrites do, for they neglect their appearance so that they will be noticed by men when they are fasting. Truly I say to you, they have their reward in full. But you, when you fast, anoint your head and wash your face so that your fasting will not be noticed by men, but by your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees what is done in secret will reward you." (Matthew 6:16-18)

The Pharisees went out of their way to show that they were enduring a strict and painful ritual. And they were admired for that. But in doing that, they misunderstood God’s relationship to the suffering.

Have you ever had the thought, "Maybe I would be a better Christ-follower if I grew up in a country where Christians face more persecution"? "Maybe I would trust in God more if I had faced more challenges growing up"? While it is true that the faith of many people has been refined in the furnaces of suffering and difficult time, we need to remember where strengthened faith ultimately comes from. It doesn’t come from our circumstances--good or bad. It comes directly from God.

Have you been inspired by the faith of those who suffered great hardships? Good. Now follow their example: not by looking for difficult circumstances, but by crying out for God. He is ready to receive and respond to everyone--whether your upbringing was rocky or stable, whether your life is comfortable or difficult.

Is your life is falling apart right now, for whatever reason--whether because of your own sin or just the bad things that come from living in this broken world? Don't make the mistake of thinking that God's grace can't reach you. Does your life seems to be going pretty well--you're not facing heavy hardship or serious pain--, but you sense that God is distant? Don't think that something terrible has to happen before you can approach God. Just start calling out to Him.

And this point leads us to the third mistake that people often make when it comes to thinking about and dealing with brokenness.

Mistake #3: Crying out to God (or dealing with our problems) only when feeling broken.

This is one of the most common mistakes that we can make. We see this pattern exemplified in the life of the nation of Israel, as recorded in the book of Judges. When things were going really well, the people would fall away from following God. As a consequence, God would distance Himself from them and bad things would start to happen. The people would cry out to God for help and He would deliver them. Once things were going well again, the people would stop following God. Bad things would start to happen. They would cry out to God. He would deliver them. And the cycle would continue, over and over again.

The people of Israel made the mistake of turning to God only when they faced famine, the threat of attack, or wasting diseases. What they kept forgetting is that turning away from God is precisely what led to those famines, attacks, and diseases. If only the people had been obedient to God during the good times, the bad times might not have happened.

Of course there are no guarantees that being conscientious will always lead to freedom from pain or difficulty. Someone who is conscientious about dieting and exercise may still fall prey to sickness and disease, but they will generally be much better off than the person who pays attention to her health only after she’s gotten sick. Much of the visible brokenness that we encounter in the world is the result of invisible decisions and choices. A marriage doesn’t collapse overnight. An addict isn’t made after just one drink. Rather it’s the accumulation of many small steps (none of which seem consequential in themselves) that eventually upends us in the ‘big problems’ that we often focus on.

How, then, do we avoid making that mistake? We need to develop those habits that will keep us healthy. We need to be faithful and conscientious in even the little things. And we need to remember that walking with God really involves all of our lives. Jesus was a great example of this. He did cry out to God as he contemplated His torture and crucifixion. (Mark 14:32; Luke 22:40) But he also talked to God at other times. (Mark 1:35; 6:46; Luke 5:16; 6:12; 9:18, 28; 11:1; 18:1) In fact the impression that we get from the gospels is that Jesus maintained an almost-constant conversation with His heavenly Father. That is precisely what enabled Him to stand strong in spite of difficult times, His heavy workload, the opposition He faced, and even the cross.

We need to do the same. In John 15:1-11, Jesus directed His followers to "abide in Me." "Abiding" is not a one-time or occasional thing. Jesus was not telling His disciples to come to Him only when things got really bad. Instead, He told His disciples to remain always and continually in Him. The whole reason that there is brokenness in this world to begin with is that people have chosen not to abide in Him. So it makes sense that the road toward healing and renewal involves going after Him--not just occasionally, but all the time.

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Where do you find yourself today?

Are you struggling with brokenness? Do you feel like you’re at the end of your rope? Don’t make the first mistake of trying to hide your brokenness. Seek out help--from God in prayer and then from a pastor, mentor, or friend who can help you take some appropriate and useful steps.

Do you feel distant from God? Maybe you’re not suffering or facing any serious hardship, but you still sense you’re far from God? Don’t make the second mistake of thinking that a simple change in your circumstances will bring God nearer to you. Instead, cry out to God now. Seek after Him where you’re at, as you are. He loves you and He will respond.

Finally, wherever you’re at in life--whether things are going well or poorly--don’t make the third mistake of waiting until things are bad to call out to God or to seek help. If you recognize some warning signs in your thoughts or behavior, get help now.

Ultimately none of us has final say over what happens in our lives and what troubles we’ll have to deal with. But if we are abiding in God’s grace; if we are looking to Him continually regardless of our circumstances; if we are open with trustworthy people of good character; that will all go a long way toward bringing healing, wholeness, and wellness into our lives and the lives of those around us.

Master 266: Lenten Meditation

There's been a question on my mind for some time. I haven't done the research necessary to get a really well-grounded biblical answer to it. It's just been me reflecting on it. This is, I recognize, probably one of the more dangerous forms of reflection, but I'm going to give voice to it anyway.

There have been those who have expressed deep misgivings about what they take to be an unhealthy fixation, among Christians, on such subjects as guilt, condemnation, sin, sacrifice, and propitiation. Is it possible for someone to have an 'overdeveloped sense' of his own sinfulness, depravity, turpitude, and wickedness? (This is not the main question I'm taking up, by the way.) I suppose that it is. Especially if this awareness is so overwhelming that it causes one to lose sight of the fact that, however wicked one may have been, God's grace is sufficient to cover even that.

Paul, who describes fallen humanity as dead in trespasses and sins speaks also of the hope of being made alive in Christ. In the same passage where he describes himself as foremost of all sinners, he speaks of God's plan to save even him. Even as the prophet Isaiah describes the nation of Israel saying, "For all of us have become like one who is unclean, and all our righteous deeds are like a filthy garment," he displays his confidence in God's mercy by crying out to him for help. In the same Psalm where David asks, as he contemplates the cosmos--the breadth of creation--, "What is man that You take thought of him"? he also says, "Yet You have made him (man) a little lower than God, and You crown him with glory and majesty!"

If our view of humanity is so dark and despairing that we forget what Paul and Isaiah and David knew, then we have certainly gone too far. On the other hand, if our view of humanity is so bright and golden that we become forgetful of our desperate need for grace, then we have erred in the opposite direction. How do we balance these? It is not by just trying to avoid the two extremes. Be confident, but not too confident. Be humble, but not too humble. The life that is full of grace, love, generosity, kindness, compassion, sensitivity, and joy cannot be reached simply by trying to avoid the two bad extremes. It is found by fixing our eyes on Jesus. Looking to Him, celebrating who He is and what He has done, following Him in obedience, resting in His presence, abiding in His words, tracking His example.

How do we attend more and more effectually on the grace and goodness of God--in such a way that that awareness shapes our outlooks, actions, and lives. Sometimes a bit of reflection on the extent of our need (owing, in part, to our depravity) is appropriate. Not as an end in itself--remember--but just so that we can come to appreciate all the more the riches of the life we've been called into by comparison. What I'm proposing is a kind of catharsis.

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Does this still sound too morbid? Again, there is such a thing as being too fixated on our naturally fallen condition. But most of us, I take it, are not in danger of falling into that trap. If anything, we rebel against such meditations because we would rather not face the truth--not because we want to hold onto it. The simple and plain, unadorned and unexaggerated facts concerning our sinfulness are all by themselves too much for us to face without the arm of God to hold us up.

It's at a point like this in my reflection (and I still haven't reached the main question that I want to take up. This is all just leading up to it) that I am reminded of one of the closing scenes from Steven Spielberg's 1993 film, Schindler's List. The title character, Oskar Schindler (played by Liam Neeson) is a very worldly and self-centered German businessman. Yet, through a series of events he ends up saving (by some accounts) over 1000 Jews from the internment camps and death. When the Nazis surrender and the Russians move into Germany, Schindler is forced to flee. As he bids farewell to the workers whose lives he has saved, he is suddenly struck by the thought of how much more he could have done. He looks at his car, at his golden party badge, staggered as the reality comes home to rest of the hundreds and thousands who were not saved who might have been saved. I think it would be wrong for us to allow the lives that Schindler did not save to overshadow the fact of the great good that he did accomplish, and yet I think it may be helpful for us to consider the other angle as well. What if we could see the real truth--the weight of a gold watch against the weight of a human life? The weight of a new car, a new computer, a vacation, a cup of coffee, against food for the starving, vaccinations for the diseased, homes for the destitute. (See C.S. Lewis' The Great Divorce, for more on this theme.)

A philosophy of life can't (and shouldn't) be constructed from this one sentiment. I raise this just in order to prompt a question: Does our reticence to contemplate what we might consider morbid arise from an informed and clear-eyed perception of the truth--or does it come precisely from the desire to avoid stepping out into the clear light of day. And if the latter is the true answer, then we should ask, 'Why?' Why do we fear to step out into the light?

Why do we feel the need to hide from the truth? Wouldn't it be a curious thing to find that reality is such that it is impossible for people to live in it? Some people think that this is actually the way things are. They speak of necessary illusions--falsehoods without which 'ordinary life' is impossible. (Of course, what counts as 'ordinary life' is precisely one of those things we must consider when evaluating such a position.) Some may suppose that belief in God and in grace amount essentially to just this sort of illusion-generation (sometimes called 'wishful thinking'). In what follows, I'm not going to argue for the contrary position but simply present it.

What then is the truth about the world? (I'll state things fairly baldly in what follows. Remember that this post is intended to serve as a lenten meditation and as a kind of catharsis. If I were speaking in an academic setting, I'd express myself differently.) One side of the truth does include the depth of our depravity and extent of our need for grace. But the other side of the truth is that there is a superabundance of that grace available to us. Let's look at these in the context of a meditation on a question that has struck me recently.

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Here's the question: Did Jesus' sacrificial life and death merit salvation for us? Did Jesus earn salvation on our behalf?

This question was prompted (for me) by two passages. One comes from A. W. Tozer's The Pursuit of God. At the closing of one of the chapters, he prays: "I would exalt Thee above all. I desire that I may feel no sense of possessing anything outside of Thee. I want constantly to be aware of Thine overshadowing Presence and to hear Thy speaking Voice. I long to live in restful sincerity of heart. I want to live so fully in the Spirit that all my thought may be as sweet incense ascending to Thee and every act of my life may be an act of worship. Therefore I pray in the words of Thy great servant of old, 'I beseech Thee so for to cleanse the intent of mine heart with the unspeakable gift of Thy grace, that I may perfectly love Thee and worthily praise Thee.' And all this I confidently believe Thou wilt grant me through the merits of Jesus Christ Thy Son. Amen."

The content of most of that prayer I can wholly endorse and affirm. But that last line has puzzled me. Tozer's confidence is bound up, supposedly, with and in the "merits" of Jesus Christ.

Because that phrase puzzled me I turned to Wayne Grudem's Systematic Theology to see what he might have to say about the matter. And he expresses a view that seems to be in line with the closing words of Tozer's prayer.

In the chapter on the atonement, the section on the nature of the atonement, Grudem writes, "If Christ had only earned forgiveness of sins for us, then we would not merit heaven. Our guilt would have been removed, but we would simply be in the position of Adam and Eve before they had done anything good or bad and before they had passed a time of probation successfully. To be established in righteousness forever and to have their fellowship with God made sure forever, Adam and Eve had to obey God perfectly over a period of time. Then God would have looked on their faithful obedience with pleasure and delight, and they would have lived with him in fellowship forever."

This interpretation of Christ's sacrifice is based on Grudem's interpretation of the nature of the covenant relationship that existed between Adam and Eve and God. Grudem cites a couple passages in support of what he says about the atonement. Philippians 3:9; 1 Corinthians 1:30; Romans 5:19; Matthew 3:15. It's far from clear to me that these passages entail Grudem's view. All of these passages make reference to Christ's imputed righteousness, but interpreting righteousness just or primarily in terms of moral rectitude seems problematic. Righteousness refers to something far bigger.

This is what prompted the question for me: Did Jesus' sacrifice earn or merit our salvation? Is our standing before God based, fundamentally, on what is merited or earned? I think the answer is 'No'. I wonder whether such a view of salvation does not betray a deep mis-understanding about the most fundamental nature of reality. Notice how Grudem's take on atonement lines up with his view about Jesus Christ's own standing before the Father. He writes, "Jesus had no need to live a life of perfect obedience of this own sake--he had shared love and fellowship with the Father for all eternity and was in his own character eternally worthy of the Father's good pleasure and delight." In one sense, I take it, this statement is absolutely correct. Jesus Christ is worthy of the Father's good pleasure and delight. In the same way, God is worthy of our praise, honor, and glory.

But the idea of 'worthy' suggests another potential (and problematic) interpretation. To say that Christ is worthy of the Father's pleasure and delight might be interpreted along the lines of saying that He is deserving of them or that He is owed them--especially in virtue of his actions. But this is where things seem to go wrong (at least in my head, and you can think about this with me).

Imagine coming to the Father and asking Him, is Your Son, Jesus, worthy of your pleasure and delight? Does Your Son, Jesus, deserve your pleasure and delight? How do you suppose God might respond? (1) I imagine He might not even register your question. He might be so busy lavishing love and regard on His Son that there is no space for answering questions about whether His Son is worthy of or deserves that. (2) I also imagine He might register a kind of puzzlement (or mild amusement) at the question. Really? Do you think that worth or desert is even an issue? Has the Father ever stopped in all of eternity to contemplate whether His Son's conduct or character made Him worthy of His love?

Parents, think of your own children. Are they worthy of your love and affection? Are they deserving of your love and affection? When they are rebelling, it is most clear that love is not tied to characteristics of them but is unconditional. But when they are being good, we can mistakenly begin to think that it is because of their goodness and upright conduct that they are loved. But that's a mistake. Or at least, I expect, if that is how human parents handle things, it's a departure from the way God works.

Is the Son worthy of the Father's love? What thought could be farther from the Father's might than the meritoriousness of His Son? He is surely much too busy loving and delighting in His Son to give any thoughts to that.

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I'd suggest (and you're welcome to consider this with me), that our standing before God never has been, never will be, and never could be, based on what is merited or earned. Of course most Christians (including Grudem, I take it) would agree with what I've said to this extent, at least: they would agree that our standing before God is not based on what we have merited or earned. However, they would say that our good standing before God is based on what Christ has merited or earned on our behalf. And my suggestion is that our good standing is not based on what anyone has merited or earned. Why is that and how can that be?

The problem with the idea that we merit God's favor in virtue of Christ's sacrifice is that tied up with the idea of 'meriting' is the idea of 'deserving.' To merit or earn something is to be owed it. To merit or earn praise is to be owed praise. If you perform an act that merits recognition and then don't receive the recognition, there's a problem. And if Christ's sacrifice has merited salvation on our behalf, then it seems that salvation is owed to us. And that seems a problematic conclusion. One might point out that Christ's sacrifice is itself not owed to us. In that way one might avoid this unacceptable conclusion. But this still leaves unaddressed the problem of characterizing Christ's own standing before the Father. Does Jesus' deserve the Father's favor? Is Jesus owed the Father's love and regard? The answer, I expect, is 'No'.

Jesus has never done anything that would interfere with the free and uninhibited flow of grace and love from the Father to the Son. But I think it's a mistake to think that this means that that free and uninhibited flow of grace is based (predicated?) on His flawless track record.

But, one might object: If our sin is what breaks the flow of God's grace to us, then doesn't that mean that the flow of God's grace depends upon our actions? I think the correct answer is 'No.' This is precisely the point at which the categories of give-and-take, tit-for-tat, economic exchange, etc. are inadequate for capturing the true nature of reality.

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The whole idea of economic exchange--of giving one thing for another--depends upon the following artificial construct: that two agents are capable of standing on equal footing with one another. --that I have something you want and you have something I want, we exchange them, and that's all that needs to or can be said about our relationship in that moment. Now we may recognize that, in fact, agents in our ordinary experience do not actually stand in this sort of relationship (a merchant and buyer are never truly wholly independent entities who intersect only at the point of their particular transaction), but it's an important presupposition of our economic system. But we make a grave mistake if we think that ultimate reality has this character.

We cannot stand in this position of equality with God. We depend on him for our existence, for everything we have, for everything we have to offer and give Him--it is all His already. And nothing is more absurd or ungrateful than for us to try to offer God something of ours as if it were not his already.

We can get some sense of this from the example of children who give gifts to their parents. We are amused by the case of a child who asks Mom or Dad for twenty bucks to buy them a present. How silly to think that the child, in that situation, could be thought of as offering any thing to his or her parent. But this is precisely to admit that what is important about such an exchange is not the gift that the parent receives. What is important is the love and relationship, generosity and care, that are exhibited by the child. And a child who staked the value of her act on actually benefiting her parent would be sorely mistaken and such a misunderstanding would be tragic in an important way.

A child who is obsessed with standing on an equal footing with her parent is surely a discontented child. Children who try to live as if their parents never existed, who refuse to acknowledge their indebtedness to their parents, who refuse to rest in the love that's been given to them--these are tragic cases.

And this provides the crucial insight into the problem with our relationship with God. This is precisely what Adam and Eve sought to do at the very beginning. They sought to stand on an equal footing with God. They were not content to rest in His grace, rely on His provision, and love Him as a child. They wanted to be equal with God. They refused to live in God's grace, they refused to accept God's provision--and what would you expect the result then to be? What is the only possible fate for someone who cuts himself off from the one and only source of life? What is the only possible fate for someone who cuts herself off from the one and only source of peace? What is the only possible fate for someone who insists on taking nothing from life but what is his by rights and refusing to accept anything that is not deserved, earned, and merited? What is the only possible fate for someone who tries to build a life and acquire peace without using anything that comes from God, depends on God, or has its ultimate source in God? Can you imagine anything more absurd? And yet that is what people have been trying to do since the fall of Adam and Eve. And God foretold what would be their fate from the very beginning: hardship instead of ease, opposition instead of support, discontentment instead of peace, and death instead of life.

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Having made this break with God, having separated ourselves from Him, having rejected Him--once we discover that there really is no life to be found apart from Him, that trying to achieve lasting success, contentment, wholeness, wellness apart from Him is impossible--how do we then return. If you've betrayed someone and wounded them, on what basis can you return? You can only return on the basis of their grace.

Here I imagine the case of a man who has committed adultery and been found out. What does he say to his wife? How does he apologize? How does he begin to make things right? I am staggered by the thought of the chasm that has just opened up between these two people. What does he say? "I'm really sorry." But those are just words. Words come cheaply and he's shown by his actions what's really in his heart. "I promise I'll never do it again." But promises are vacuous at this stage. He's already broken a promise once. How could another promise make things better? "Let me try to explain." Well that's not going to go far at all. Will an explanation of his thought processes, his lack of self-control, etc., etc., etc. really help to mend things? "Remember how good our relationship was." A lot of good that's going to do right now. "Think of the children." "I'll do better next time." …

Are you familiar with the story of the prodigal son. A young man demands his share of the inheritance from his father. He then leaves the family, squanders it all, and is left destitute with absolutely nothing. As Luke records the story, "But when he came to his senses, he said, 'How many of my father's hired men have more than enough bread, but I am dying here with hunger! I will get up and go to my father, and will say to him, "Father, I have sinned against heaven, and in your sight; I am no longer worthy to be called your son; make me as one of your hired men."'" (15:17-19) The prodigal son has his plan in mind but when he actually meets his father, the totally unexpected happens. His father runs out to greet him, embraces him, hugs him, kisses him. The son must have been overwhelmed at this point but he still manages to get these words in: "And the son said to him, 'Father, I have sinned against heaven and in your sight; I am no longer worthy to be called your son.'" (v. 21) But this is all that's recorded of what he says. A lot of people seem to think that Luke was just abbreviating here. A lot of people seem to think that the son must have gone through the entire speech but Luke, in order to save space or something like that, just inserted the beginning of what he said. But I'm not so convinced. The biblical texts do not shy away from being repetitive and long-winded. So why does the son only give the first part of his speech?

I think he gives only the first part of his speech because in the midst of the outpouring of love that he is unexpectedly receiving, it finally dawns on him how far he has sunk and how undeserving of regard he really is. Can he really come to his father and say, "Treat me as one of your hired men." He probably realizes that his conduct has been worse than the lowest of his father's hired men. He realizes the magnitude of his sin--against heaven and against his father--and he's rendered silent. He can make no requests. He can make no demands.

I imagine that's the only recourse left for the adulterous husband. There's nothing about him that could possibly merit, earn, or deserve forgiveness. There is no stockpile of good deeds, happy memories, character traits, or anything that he can draw upon as leverage for winning his betrayed wife's forgiveness. His only hope for reconciliation lies in his wife's willingness to give him another chance. The prodigal son's only hope for reconciliation and restoration lies in his father's willingness to take him back.

Have you ever been in that place? Have you ever allowed yourself to be in that place. Of course no one wants to be in that position of having done something so bad that one is completely dependent on another's grace. But sometimes we do hurt people that badly--and then we just make things worse by making excuses by acting as if we were somehow not completely dependent on their grace.

Have you ever been at that place? Many people, unfortunately, probably have been. And many have experienced the heartbreak of that person's saying 'No' to reconciliation.

Some people, though, have experienced the joy of receiving a 'Yes.' And sometimes I wonder whether there is anything better than being at that place where you know, beyond a shadow of a doubt--you know--that you do not deserve forgiveness, that you cannot earn it, that reconciliation is completely outside of your power -- I wonder whether there is anything better than being in that place and hearing that person say, 'Yes, I will forgive you.' That kind of forgiveness is powerful. It is powerful because you know that it comes wholly, completely, freely, and willingly from that person. Forgiveness has not been extracted from them or extorted from them or blackmailed from them. They have seen the reality of your betrayal and they have chosen to forgive you.

That is what God does for us. In fact, what is so amazing about God is precisely that He is so ready to forgive. His love and compassion, grace and mercy, are so amazing that He readily receives back all who call on Him.

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So often we seem to have this idea that God has been paid off. When we sinned, we went into debt. Until that debt has been paid, we cannot have relationship with God. Once that debt's been paid, then we are on neutral ground with God. And once Christ credits righteousness to us, we are then (vicariously) in the position of meriting God's favor and regard.

Again, the problem with this picture is that it presupposes the possibility of our standing on equal footing with God. That's what's fundamentally wrong with the economic metaphor. Our situation is much more like that of someone who burns down his neighbor's house. If his neighbor decides to forgive, that is not because things have been equalized. The neighbor is still without his house, but in forgiving the arsonist, he has chosen to absorb the cost of forgiveness into himself. He has chosen not to demand that cost from the arsonist.

When a child betrays his parents and later comes to be reconciled, there can be no question about restoring some sense of equality between the two parties. The two parties were never on equal footing to begin with. The child had always been indebted to his parents for life and shelter, food and clothing. Reconciliation does not involve equalization. Rather, it involves the child being willing to come back into that child-relationship with his parents. Even if 'restitution' is made, that does not balance the books. Rather, the parents (if they choose to forgive) just absorb the cost of forgiving.

The fact is we always have been, always are, and always will be utterly dependent on God. We cannot escape that. He is the one and only source of life. When we fell into sin, it was because we wanted to stand on equal footing with God. Our being reconciled does not require that the books be balanced. It just requires that we return willingly to that place and attitude of dependence--dependence for forgiveness and dependence for life.

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Now some people are just repulsed by this idea of adopting a posture of dependence on God. Does it seem servile? Does it seem sycophantical? But the truth (an unhappy one for these but one of the greatest truths of all) is that the whole of reality is built on grace and mercy. Grace and mercy are the currency of the cosmos. You cannot trade in anything else. Not really.

Any relationship of yours--with employers, co-workers, employees, spouse, children; with your waiter, grocery clerk, neighbor, car-pool group, gardner, etc., etc., etc.--all of them depend on grace and mercy. The illusion lies in the thought that you can actually stand on your own two feet completely independently of anyone else. If you try to live in that way--independently, never taking anything that's not rightfully yours--you'll either go through life lying to yourself, or you'll just go nuts, because life is built on grace and mercy. You can't get away from that. Submitting to God, then, is not something unusual or out of the ordinary. It points to the deepest structure of reality.

And that deepest structure of reality is revealed (perhaps enacted, in a way) in the sacrificial death of Jesus Christ. It is not because Jesus paid our entrance fee on the cross that we enter heaven. That is not the sense in which Christ's sacrifice makes our salvation possible.

Rather, Christ's death is the demonstration of the power of grace to reach to the very uttermost. That is what we are placing our confidence in: in the compassion and mercy of the God who sent His one and only Son to the cross for our sakes. If He would not spare His own Son, how could He not give us all good things. Jesus Christ's death does not pay off God. Rather, Jesus Christ's death just shows us that God's grace has no limits. And our invitation is just to come and rest in that limitless grace.

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What does it look like, you might wonder, to live in light of this truth. It's all well and good to go through this kind of catharsis: to reflect on the extent of our depravity and the magnitude of God's grace. But is there any pay-off beyond that.

This points to another reason that I have trouble with the payment/transactional picture of the cross. It's all well and good to say that Jesus paid for our sins and that, in virtue of his sacrifice, we can stand before God unashamed. But that still suggests that God is, at bottom, not gracious. After all, our standing before him depends upon the books being balanced. One result of that, I think, is that even people who have been saved continue to live as if under the heavy hand of a master rather than a father. They are told that they are free but they can't take hold of that because they are convinced that reality at its most fundamental level has this economical, tit-tat character.

The good news is that reality, at its most fundamental level, is built on grace and mercy. We never could balance the books because in the very act of creation, God chose to take on the burden of providing for our life and existence. We don't have to tow the line, as it were, and so avoid incurring further debt. We have been, always are, and ever shall be indebted to God. If that is the case, then, how should we live?

We should live as children of God. We should live as children who are appropriately dependent on their parent and who give no thought to balancing this dependency but only think of living in loving relationship to God. Do you dislike the idea that someone else is 'financing' your life? Get over it. If you could see the unadorned and unexaggerated truth, you would probably find that your wife's loving you has less to do with you than you think. Your job was given to you, not so much because of your incredible qualifications as by a stroke of 'luck'. The fact that you've escaped the tragedies that have slammed so many others has nothing to do with your planning, prudence, or savvy. Your life is sustained by grace and mercy at every level. So why should it surprise us that life at the deepest level is also built on grace and mercy. Stop trying to fight it. Just learn to rest in it.

And rest you can. I talked earlier about how much energy we expend trying to stay away from the light of truth. We try so hard to convince people that we are deserving, that we have a right to be here. So many people (probably unconsciously) seem to be trapped in this never-ending game of trying to justify their existence. Stop trying to do that. You don't have to do that. Learn instead to live freely in the light. Because the deepest truth of all is that no matter who you are, what you've done, what strikes there are against you, you are loved. God has said, 'Yes' to you. Learn to live in that. Learn to breathe freely in that. It's the best way to live.

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One final note. It's impossible for us to get completely away from 'transactional' language when speaking about God's relationship to us. Why is that? Because God uses transactional language at times. What I've given here has been a meditation and reflection. The impression I've tried to leave you with might be summed up with this line: salvation and grace have always been God's idea. A lot of people seem to think that salvation and grace were Jesus' idea and plan for assuaging the Father. While there's something right about that, it's also the case that salvation and grace were the Father's idea. They are His at the very deepest level.

Everything I've said here, I think, can be integrated into a well-rounded interpretation of what God has said about Himself. But ultimately, what God says about Himself sets the standard for what we can say about Him.

Blessings on you all this Good Friday and Resurrection Sunday.

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God is in this place,
And that reality, seen and understood by the grace of God in Christ Jesus through the work of the Holy Spirit, makes all the difference in the world.

Master 265: Heaven, Present and Future

In the Apostle Paul's letter to the Ephesian Christians, he writes, "Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us with every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places in Christ." (1:3) He says that God "put all things in subjection under His (Jesus') feet." (1:22) After describing our fallen condition, he goes on to say, "But God, being rich in mercy, because of His great love with which He loved us, even when we were dead in our transgressions, made us alive together with Christ (by grace you have been saved), and raised us up with Him, and seated us with Him in the heavenly places, in Christ Jesus." (2:4-6)

Did you catch those words? God has blessed us. God put all things in subjection to Christ. God raised us up. God seated us with Him. All of these are past-tense expressions. They describe things that God has already done. How can this be, and what does it mean? One of the first things to say is that we are right to look forward to a future day when Christ will return and restore all things. The prophets and apostles, along with Jesus Himself, all speak of this future hope and fulfillment. But Paul's words suggest that it's a mistake to think of that as only future.

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Jesus' resurrection gives us hope that we too will one day be resurrected, because ultimately these 'two' resurrections are not distinct events but parts of one continuous event. Jesus' resurrection marked the beginning of the end. We are looking forward to the end of all things, but it is also the case that we are living now in the last days. In Christ we have been raised, with Him we have been seated in heaven, and through Him we have access to every spiritual blessing in the heavenly realms.

What follows from this is that the power and presence of God are available to us now. Many Christians seem to be looking forward to a day in the distant future when we will not be dogged by sin, when we will know real fellowship with God, when His presence will be clearly manifested, etc. While there is something right about this, we should not overlook the fact that sin has already been defeated, that God is really with us now, and that if He seems distant that may be because we are actually neglecting to take full advantage of the riches that are open to us here and now.

Emphasis on the present reality of God's kingdom can make some Christians nervous. Certainly there are theologians who have interpreted the presence, now, of God's kingdom in such a way as to exclude its real, decisive, and final coming in the future. But a correct appreciation of this future hope should not stop us from acknowledging, enjoying, and celebrating the fullness of the outpouring of God's love and grace in the present.

Think about this. Will attending to the abundance of God's riches given to us now cause us to esteem less and fail to look forward to the plenitude that is to come? Actually no. Too many Christians content themselves (though never truly content) with spiritual crumbs and console one another with the thought that the feast in heaven will be so much better. But their vision of that future hope and glory is not the larger and grander for its contrast with their present experience. If anything, their present meager experience undermines their ability to envision just how much better heaven will be. The true Christian way, I want to suggest, is one of feasting now--enjoying the good things of God, resting in His presence, exercising His power, loving and abiding with Him--and then marveling that these overwhelming experiences are only the tiniest morsels of what God has to offer. They are like starters or appetizers. The main course of this banquet is yet to come.

So we can ask ourselves: are we living with Christ? Are we abiding in Him? Listening to Him, spending time with Him, working alongside Him? That's exactly what the heavenly life will be like.

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This material came out of study (on the resurrection and ascension of Jesus Christ) for a Sunday school class I've been teaching on the doctrines of the Christian faith.

A version of this piece has been published in the March 2012 issue of a new Christian online magazine, Family Labs. Here's a link to that particular article.

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God is in this place,
And that reality, seen and understood by the grace of God in Christ Jesus through the work of the Holy Spirit, makes all the difference in the world.

Master 262: Advent 2011, Matthew 1-2

We're continuing in this series on the Christmas Story in the Four Gospels--that is, we are continuing to look at what each of the gospel writers has to say about the Advent of Jesus Christ. We want to get a sense of (1) how each of the gospel writers views this significant event and (2) how their perspectives complement one another, in order to expand our own view of Christ's work and ministry.

Mark begins his account of Jesus' ministry with his baptism, at the age of thirty. The coming of Jesus, according to Mark, opens up a radically new possibility for people--the possibility of life with God. Six hundred years before Jesus' baptism, the prophet Isaiah spoke of a day when God would come to His people. At Jesus' baptism, Mark says, the heavens were torn open and a point of access between God and humanity was established. The Spirit of God also descended at that time, and Jesus went on to announce that the kingdom of God is at hand. All of these things point to the presence and accessibility of God in Jesus Christ--the opportunity for relationship.

Matthew has a wider vision and scope. He pushes back the coming of Christ along two dimensions. He goes farther back to the birth of Jesus and to the experience of His step-father, Joseph. He also goes farther back in history. Instead of connecting Jesus' coming just to the prophecies of Isaiah, he connects it to figures like Moses and Abraham.

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Mark's gospel was likely written to a Roman audience, one that would have been unfamiliar (and largely uninterested in) the Jewish context that formed the background of Jesus' life. It's also possible that the strong influence of Roman mythology created special problems for their really grasping the message of Jesus. Perhaps it was to avoid confusion that Mark chose not to include a birth narrative in his gospel.

Matthew's gospel was most likely written in the region immediately surrounding Israel. After Jesus' death, resurrection, and ascension, the small movement of Christ-followers began to grow in the region of Jerusalem and Judea. In those earliest days of the church, almost all of the followers of Jesus came from Jewish communities. But others of the Jewish people--especially the religious leaders--formed the principle opposition to the young movement of Christianity.

The prophets of the Old Testament spoke of a messiah and deliverer whom God would send. They spoke of a king, in the line of David, who would rise to lead His people. Many Jewish people saw, in Jesus, the fulfillment of these prophecies. But others saw Jesus in a different light--as a threat to the Jewish traditions and as undermining all their expectations. It was in this context that Matthew wrote his gospel, wrote his own account of the life and ministry of Jesus. And one of his aims in writing, it seems, was to show people that Jesus did indeed come in fulfillment of God's plan. Jesus did not come to abolish or overthrow what God had revealed in the Old Testament; rather, He came precisely to fulfill the plan that God had put in place all those years ago.

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Of all the gospel writers, Matthew refers to the Old Testament the most. At least ten times he uses the expression, "All this happened to fulfill what was spoken through the prophets." He cites the Old Testament directly 54 times and draws over 250 allusions and verbal parallels to the Old Testament.

At the same time that he is defending Christianity against its opponents, I think, Matthew is also writing for the community of early Christians, who are facing hard times and persecution. By pointing to the past, Matthew is reminding them that God's work is not random. He is a God of order, and He is working out a plan. They can trust that God has been and will continue to accomplish His work.

But this is the point at which we need to stop and think. That all sounds really good: 'God is a God of order. God doesn't do things randomly.' But doesn't it sometimes feel like God's work is random? Don't you sometimes feel like things are completely disordered and out of control? Sometimes we ask, "Why is God letting this happen?" "Why doesn't God change things?" "Why am I facing all of these problems and struggles?" It may sound good to say that God has a plan, but what does that actually look like?

For answers, we're going to look at the experience of Joseph, as recorded by Matthew. Joseph enters history at a crucial turning point in God's plan, so let's see whether we can find in his experience evidence of this highly ordered and organized God at work.

I won't copy the text of Matthew 1-2 into this blog. You can read through it by accessing this LINK. Do read through all of it. Matthew opens with a genealogy, but don't just skip over that. Read through it. Pay attention to the names listed. Do you recognize any? Think about the history and events that are reflected in the names listed there. And then go on to read through the end of chapter two.

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I'm not going to go step by step through this entire passage. (My entry on Mark was long enough and that was only fifteen verses, compared to the forty-eight here in Matthew.) I'm going to presuppose your familiarity with the outline of this story and focus just on Joseph's experience. Joseph plays a really important role in the life of Jesus. He raised and protected the infant messiah, along with Mary. Now what would we expect for a man who plays such a central role in God's plan? Just running through Matthew's account, one comes away with the impression that God was guiding his footsteps at every stage along the way. But let's look a little more closely and think about how things must have looked from Joseph's perspective. Again, our question is: does Joseph's experience provide evidence of the working of a highly ordered and organized God?

Joseph is introduced to us in the following way: "Now the birth of Jesus Christ was as follows. When His mother Mary had been betrothed to Joseph, before they came together she was found to be with child by the Holy Spirit." (1:18) Now that is not a highly ordered or organized beginning. Some will understand better than others the train wreck that has just broken in on Joseph's life. Because we're familiar with the rest of the story, we may have trouble sympathizing. But we need to stop and realize what's happened here. Joseph has just learned that the woman that he is soon to marry--with whom he's never had sexual relations--is pregnant.

Try to put yourself in Joseph's place. He's a young guy--about eighteen years old, probably working for the family carpentry business. Their families have arranged for Joseph and Mary to wed. At that young age, what do you expect he's feeling? Excitement? Nervousness? The weight of responsibility? How much advice has come in over the last several weeks? How much planning has taken place? There's a lot of excitement and work involved. From what Luke tells us about these events, it seems that Mary went away to visit her cousin Elizabeth for some time. Joseph hasn't seen her in a while. There's probably been very little communication. Finally word comes that she's returned to their village. He goes to meet her. And he finds that she's pregnant.

How would you respond? What thoughts would run through your mind? Despite your best efforts to block those suggestions and voices in your head, what would you invariably dwell on? What questions would you ask? Could you resist asking who the "father" is? Would you even want to hear her explanation? And this is not a question just for men. For all the women, what would you do if you learned that your fiance had been with someone else? And there's not just the personal injury that's taken place. There's the humiliation and shame that comes with that too. Everyone's been invited to the wedding. What will people say? What will people think?

What would you feel? Anger? Resentment? Hatred? Hurt? Betrayal? What would you do? Notice how Joseph responds. Matthew writes, "And Joseph her husband, being a righteous man, and not wanting to disgrace her, decided to put her away secretly." (1:19)

Could you react in the way that he does? He does not want to disgrace her. Most people would think a desire to disgrace her perfectly natural--maybe even appropriate. After what she's done to him, wouldn't you expect there to be a desire for revenge or some form of pay-back? Yet there's none of that. Matthew tells us that Joseph is a righteous man. In light of her infidelity, he cannot, in good conscience, marry her. But he does not cease to care for her. It seems that he does not cease to love her. He wants to protect her. [We'll talk more about this later.]

"But when he had considered this, behold, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream, saying, "Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife; for that which has been conceived in her is of the Holy Spirit. And she will bear a Son; and you shall call His name Jesus, for it is He who will save His people from their sins." (1:20-21)

That is certainly unexpected. An angel shows up and tells him the truth about Mary's pregnancy. She has not been unfaithful but has been chosen by God to bear His Son. This, he is told, is from the Holy Spirit. Does that make everything better? Certainly, in some ways. But this revelation doesn't solve all their problems. How many people will believe their story? They're still going to have to live amongst family and friends who will wonder. There will still be whispers and stares on their wedding day. People will think Joseph a fool. Maybe they'll continue to think worse of Mary. This is not an easy road that the angel is recommending to them. But Joseph is obedient to the command he's received from God.

"And Joseph arose from his sleep, and did as the angel of the Lord commanded him, and took her as his wife, and kept her a virgin until she gave birth to a Son; and he called His name Jesus." (1:24-25)

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The next section opens, "Now after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea in the days of Herod the king, behold, magi from the east arrived in Jerusalem…" (2:1) Matthew doesn't tell us at this point but a number of things have changed between the end of chapter 1 and the beginning of chapter 2. We should take note of these. Joseph and Mary lived in Nazareth, a small village in Galilee (that is, northern Israel). Jesus was born in Bethlehem, a town outside of Jerusalem in Judah (that is, southern Israel). From Luke's gospel we know that Joseph and Mary had to travel to Bethlehem for the Roman census and that Jesus was born in a stable there shortly after their arrival. When the magi arrive in Jerusalem, about two years have passed, and Joseph and Mary are still living in Bethlehem.

Now, Scripture does not give us anything clear on this point, but I think its worth reflecting on imaginatively: why are Joseph and Mary still living in Bethlehem? Nazareth is their home. Nazareth is where family, friends, and support for this young family are. They were strangers in Bethlehem when they arrived. In two years time, why have they not returned to Nazareth?

(Again, this is all pure speculation, but) I wonder if their experience wasn't unlike many of ours. We all have plans and goals. But often life has a way of interfering. I'm sure that they planned to return to Nazareth as soon as they had finished their legal obligations. But traveling with a new-born might be difficult. Maybe they decided that it would be good to stay in Bethlehem for just a short time--a few weeks or months--and return to Nazareth after that. Of course they couldn't continue to live in a stable, and they would need clothes and other things for the baby. Perhaps they sold their donkey in order to pay for these things. Of course, without a donkey, they were even farther from getting home. But Joseph would work and save money for another that they could use for the return trip. But maybe work was hard to find. We know that Joseph and Mary were poor to begin with. And how much help could they get in the city. The area around Jerusalem was fairly cosmopolitan. But Nazareth was more of a country, backwoods sort of community. Joseph and Mary probably didn't fit in real well. It was probably difficult for them to make friends. We can't be sure that this is what happened. But it is the sort of thing that does happen.

And, for whatever reason, Joseph and Mary continue to find themselves living in Bethlehem. Is this what we would expect for the family that is at the center of God's plan and work? Again, does this sound like it's well-ordered and organized? Or does it seem very random?

The next thing that happens certainly is very random. I imagine Joseph, one night, pulling the garbage cans out to the front curb. He opens up the side gate and finds himself staring into muzzle of a massive camel. Recovering from his shock, he looks out across his lawn and sees ten, twenty, thirty more camels and other pack animals. Men and women dressed in foreign costumes. Remember that Joseph doesn't know about the arrival of the magi in Jerusalem. He doesn't know about the star that they saw or that they were coming to his home. What must it have been like for him to see them in front of his home? For a more contemporary picture, just imagine coming out of your house and seeing a dozen black Escalades parked in front of your property. And a gentleman in a dark suit comes up to you, "Do you have a two-year-old boy in your home? We have reason to believe that he's the king of the Jews."

"And they came into the house and saw the Child with Mary His mother; and they fell down and worshiped Him; and opening their treasures they presented to Him gifts of gold and frankincense and myrrh." (2:12)

This is all certainly unexpected. But, of course, it's unexpected in a good way--these gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. There is probably more gold presented to the family on that night than Joseph has every seen at one place at one time. And isn't that more like the way in which we expect the servant of God to be treated.

What thoughts do you suppose are running through their heads? What thoughts would run through your head? Now we finally have enough money to make the trip back to Nazareth. Not only that but when we get there, we'll be able to afford the nicest house in town. Things look like they're really turning around. What an incredible blessing from God.

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And then verse 13 happens.

"Now when [the magi] had departed, behold, an angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream, saying, "Arise and take the Child and His mother, and flee to Egypt, and remain there until I tell you; for Herod is going to search for the Child to destroy Him."

That very night! The magi leave, and in less than twenty-four hours, Joseph receives word of a death threat against the Child. The angel tells him to flee immediately to Egypt. They leave that very night. (2:13) The money that they were going to use to return to Nazareth is now being used to finance their trip to Egypt.

Have you been there? It seems a not-uncommon experience. You get your tax-return check in the mail and are all excited. "This money's going in the vacation fund!" or "This money's going into the 50-inch TV fund!" And that's when the dryer breaks, or the car needs an emergency overhaul, or the plumbing goes haywire, or a relative needs surgery. And suddenly--well--, "This money was going in the vacation fund." And it seems like this can't possibly be the work of an orderly and organized God. If God were orderly and organized then, surely, that money would be going toward the vacation fund! Have you been there?

And now Joseph and Mary find themselves running for their lives with the baby Jesus. They leave under the cover of darkness. Bethlehem is only a couple miles from Jerusalem where Herod is, and Joseph has no idea exactly what form this threat will take. Perhaps they avoid the roads to begin with, and that makes travel even more difficult. Eventually they'll join some sort of caravan headed for Egypt. Again, they'll be surrounded by strangers. But this time, as they travel, their eyes and ears are straining. What are the people around them saying? Is anyone taking note of or talking about them? Does anyone in the group look suspicious? Who can say whether any of them is a spy for King Herod? Every time the caravan stops for rest, Joseph's anxiety must increase. It's not safe for them to stop. It's not safe for them to wait.

There be many times, during this trip, when Joseph thinks of how much better it would have been if God had chosen a soldier or someone with more strength or resources to be the step-father of Jesus. Eventually, after many, many days, they arrive in Egypt. They probably settle in one of the many Jewish communities there. Do you suppose they feel safe at that point? Perhaps it's after their arrival that news finally reaches them about the massacre that took place in Bethlehem--about the soldiers who broke down doors and raided homes and butchered all the baby boys in that village. Joseph probably knows of children living in his neighborhood or a few streets over--children who are now dead.

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We don't know how long Joseph and his family remained in Egypt. But eventually an angel comes to him with the news that Herod is dead. The angel then directs him to return to Israel. "And he arose and took the Child and His mother, and came into the land of Israel. But when he heard that Archelaus was reigning over Judea in place of his father Herod, he was afraid to go there. And being warned by God in a dream, he departed for the regions of Galilee, and came and resided in a city called Nazareth…". (2:21-23)

What do you think? Do these events bear the marks and finger-prints of a God of order? Is this how we expect the righteous servants of God to be treated? I think it's right to say that, from Joseph's perspective, the events that took place were extremely disordered. The things that he had to deal with, the challenges he faced, the problems that came up, the upsets and turn-arounds. They seem to be disordered in exactly the way that we've come to expect ordinary life to be disordered.

In what sense, then, does it make sense to speak of God working out a plan? Of course, in Joseph's case, angels appeared at crucial times and places to direct him. The thought might come to us: if only God would do that in my life. On the other hand, maybe we do recognize God's occasional interventions in our own lives, but what troubles us is the long stretches of time in between where God seems to be silent. The angel appeared to Joseph after Mary's pregnancy was discovered. The angel didn't return until two years later. It then may have been several more years before the angel came again. And in between those visits, Joseph had to struggle to make a life for him and Mary, in Bethlehem and then in Egypt. How often must they have fretted about finances, struggled with loneliness, and worried about their safety? Where was God in those times? Was He really working out a plan?

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This is the challenge that Matthew faces as He looks back on these events and prepares to write. He's trying to help the Jewish people understand that Jesus fulfills the Old Testament writings--that Jesus' life fits into the larger plan that God has revealed. Can he pull that off? Yes, he can.

From Joseph's perspective, things must have looked random and disordered. But Matthew looks back on these events from several years later. He recognizes the finger-prints of God on those events. But how can he help people to see that? He provides the reader with the interpretive key. [I'll focus on just this one example of Matthew's doing this.]

Go back to vv. 13-15. After describing the instructions of the angel to Joseph, Matthew writes, "And he arose and took the Child and His mother by night, and departed for Egypt; and was there until the death of Herod, that what was spoken by the Lord through the prophet might be fulfilled, saying, 'Out of Egypt did I call My Son.'"

You might not think twice about it, but that line of prophecy actually raises some pretty interesting puzzles. Matthew is quoting there from the prophet Hosea, and here's the trick: When God says those words to Hosea, He's not talking about the future Messiah. In that part of Hosea's book, God is actually recounting what He did in the past for the nation of Israel.

"When Israel was a youth I loved him,
And out of Egypt I called My son.
The more [the prophets] called them,
The more they went from them;
They kept sacrificing to the Baals
And burning incense to idols." (11:1-2)

This is enough of the material to give you the idea. In that passage, God isn't talking about His Son (Jesus) being in Egypt. He's talking about the nation of Israel being enslaved to the Egyptians and about the way in which He delivered them. What is Matthew doing, then, when He cites this prophecy. Has Matthew simply made a mistake? Is he twisting the words and meaning of Scripture? Is he trying to trick the Jews? Is there some hidden meaning to the Scriptures that only he's able to pick out?

No, none of these explain what Matthew is doing. What Matthew is doing is drawing people's attention to the pattern in God's way of working. He invites people to remember how God worked in the past so that they can better understand his work in the present. Matthew already understands that Jesus came to redeem humanity--to save people from their sins. Jesus' is the definitive redeeming and saving work. But it's not the first time that God worked redemptively or salvifically. And one of the biggest redemptive works in Israel's history took place when God delivered the people of Israel out of slavery in Egypt.

Sending Jesus into Egypt was not the first time that God's plan involved sending His "child" into Egypt. Many centuries before, when the nation of Israel was still just twelve brothers and their families, God sent them into Egypt to deliver them from a terrible famine. In a similar way, God sent Joseph, Mary, and Jesus into Egypt to deliver them from death at the hands of Herod.

Later on, when the Egyptians turned against Israel and enslaved them, God raised up a deliverer for the nation of Israel. But while that deliverer, Moses, was still a baby, his life was threatened by a king who wanted to kill all the male Israelite children. Isn't that interesting. And when God raised up someone who would deliver people from their enslavement to sin, the life of that deliverer was also threatened by a king who wanted to kill all the male children in Bethlehem.

Years later, when Moses was about eighty years old, God called Him to Egypt to deliver the people of Israel from slavery. Moses' life had been threatened by the Egyptians and he was afraid to go there but God assured Him. "Moses, go and deliver my people. The men who were seeking your life are dead." And when God prepares to start the work of saving the world, how does that begin? With a message of assurance, "All those who sought the Child's life are dead."

Matthew can say to his Jewish audience, "Look, you've seen how God worked in the past. You know that God delivered you from slavery in Egypt. Well now He's sent another deliverer--one who will save you from your sin. Just look at His life and you'll see the marks and finger-prints of God. They are the signs that God is really the one accomplishing this work. Joseph didn't orchestrate these events. Joseph probably wasn't even aware of how his life was falling into this pattern. Joseph didn't plan to have Herod threaten his life. Joseph didn't want to go to Egypt. "I think I'm going to reenact typologically God's redemptive work in the Exodus in order to convince people that Jesus Christ really is the savior sent from God." That thought never crossed his mind. Yet these two sets of events, separated by over a thousand years, line up so well.

Secular historians will take this as evidence that Matthew invented or fabricated elements of the birth narrative. These kinds of parallels can only be explained by the intentional work of an author, they insist. And the Christian can reply, "Well of course." These events are the work of an author--but not a merely human author. When the story being told is the history of the world and the characters are real people, the one creating and inventing the story can't be any mere human being. God is the one true author. And He uses all the best literary techniques. There's no other way to explain it.

--

What then should we take from this? It's nice to be able to look back with Matthew on Joseph's experience and see the marks of God's handiwork. But how should we cope with life when we're in the middle of it? Joseph can help us with that.

Joseph did not know or understand the big picture. He did not have a clear-sighted vision of how the events in his life were fitting into God's overarching plan. Yet his actions fell into perfect alignment with the pattern of how God works. How can this be? And how did Joseph cope with the uncertainty, with the questions about the future, with his ignorance of what was coming? Clearly there was a lot that Joseph did not know. But there were two things that he almost certainly did know.

First, Joseph almost certainly knew his history. Matthew also draws our attention to history--through Old Testament allusions and the genealogy with which he opens his gospel. The history of Israel is one long sequence of experiences of God's goodness and faithfulness. If you just sped through the genealogy, you probably missed that. If you just sped through the genealogy, you probably missed out on one of the key factors that enabled Joseph to walk through all the difficulties and challenges that he faced.

Joseph almost certainly knew his history. He almost certainly knew about the experience of the patriarch, Joseph (after whom he was probably named). Joseph started out life as the youngest and favorite of his father's children. He was given all the advantages within the home. His brothers were so jealous of him that they sold him into slavery in Egypt. But Joseph worked diligently and faithfully and was eventually placed in charge of his master's entire household. Unfortunately his high position drew the attention of his master's wife. When he resisted her advances, she retaliated by accusing him of trying to rape her. Joseph was thrown into prison. But while in prison, he conducted himself so admirably that he was placed in charge of that prison. This gave him the opportunity to interact with the king's own butler. He interpreted one of the butler's dreams and then asked the butler to bring his case before the king. But the butler forgot about him and he spent two more years in prison. But finally the butler did remember him, brought his case to the king, and because of Joseph's excellent gifts, the king appointed Joseph to be the second-highest ruler in Egypt.

Many Christians read the story of Joseph and come away expecting God to appoint them to the second-highest ruler positions in life. They ignore or forget that Joseph's journey to that destination was a long one. They don't pay attention to the way in which Joseph was diligent, obedient, and faithful throughout even under the most difficult and unfair circumstances. I wonder if Joseph, the step-father of Jesus, thought often about that other Joseph's experience. Perhaps his example served as an encouragement to not give up and to continue living and trusting in God.

Joseph almost certainly knew his history. Second, Joseph knew that God was with him in the present. We can point to the angel's visits to show that God was active in Joseph's life. But I think we find evidence elsewhere as well. Remember how Joseph reacted to the news of Mary's pregnancy. When everything about the situation pointed to betrayal, deception, and lies, Joseph still responded with love and compassion. How did he do that? I think it must have been that Joseph knew that God was with him. Joseph knew that God was taking care of him. Joseph knew that God would continue to provide for him. And that gave Joseph the freedom to be able to love Mary and care for Mary, even when he thought that she had betrayed him. So much of the anger that we feel comes from our awareness that someone has hurt us, that someone has injured us, that someone has taken something from us that we cannot reclaim. But the person who is close to God can rest in the knowledge that God will provide all that we need. The world can strip away so much from us, but with God we will lack for nothing. Again, maybe that sounds like so many pretty-sounding words, but the example of Joseph should cause us to pause. Here's a man who lived it out. When it looked like so much had just been torn out of his life, he was still able to be generous and loving to Mary. How else would you explain that?

--

How was Joseph able to carry out God's will in spite of uncertainty and difficulty? When we face uncertainty our immediate response is often to cry out, "WHY???" We want the explanation now. When we sense God calling us to step out in faith, there's a natural impulse to want to know in advance how things will turn out. And if the end result is not to our liking or too difficult to see, we often refuse to step out in obedience. When facing a world that seems random and disordered, when confronted with decisions about what direction to take and where to go, we want to know why and we want to know the future. Joseph knew neither of these things. He knew his history and he knew the God that was with him in the present. That was enough for him. And that is enough for us.

Again, it was probably not easy for Joseph. There were probably many times when he felt frustrated or even abandoned by God. But he continued to walk in obedience. And because he walked in obedience, Matthew was able to look back on his life and see the finger-prints of God in the events of His life. Isn't that how it usually goes for us too. It's much easier to see the overarching plan in retrospect. We look back on the events of five, ten, or fifteen years ago and say, "Ah, I see now that God was teaching me something there or that these events took place for those reasons." Of course, if we choose not to obey God in the present, we won't be able to look back and see the finger-prints of God. But if we do live in obedience to God, our history tells us that we will be able to look back and see how God has directed our path at every turn.

--

Mark points out that with the coming of Jesus comes a radical new opportunity: life with God.

Matthew helps us to understand what that life involves. With the coming of Jesus comes the opportunity to live in obedience to God and to become involved in the work that God is doing. You may wonder, "How can I become involved in God's plan if I don't know what the plan is--if I don't see or understand the big picture?" The truth is, we don't have to worry about that. If we'll only focus on being obedient to what God tells us to do right here and right now, he'll work out the big plan. After all, he is the author of this story. And we'll be able to look back, ten, twenty, thirty years from now and we'll see what an amazing thing God has done through us.

--

God is in this place,
And that reality, seen and understood by the grace of God in Christ Jesus through the work of the Holy Spirit, makes all the difference in the world.

Master 261: Looking for Advent Readings?

Over the years I've put together a number of Advent Meditation Series. Not all of them are complete. If I get a chance I'll work on them this year. If you're interested in looking at some Scriptures over the next month, you might try looking at some of what I've written.

In December 2007, I put together a twenty-six part series, starting on 30 November (Graduate 77) and ending on 25 December (Graduate 102). That series is based on what's sometimes referred to as the Jesse Tree Advent calendar. That reading schedule moves through the Old Testament tracing the history and ancestry that leads up to Christ's birth.

In December 2009, I put together a twenty-five part series, starting on 01 December (Graduate 173) and ending on 25 December (Graduate 198). That series goes through the first chapter of the book of Ephesians--looking at one verse each day. That series is not complete; it's missing the last four days or so. I'll see about fixing that.

In November and December 2010, I started a five-part series (not yet finished) based on the four songs of Christmas. They are Zecharias' song (Master 220), Mary's song (Master 221), the angel's song (Master 222), and Simeon's song (Master 223), with one final Christmas meditation (Master 224). All of these songs appear in the gospel of Luke and have been an important part of the church's liturgy and celebration of Christmas. Each is supposed to correspond to one of the four Sundays of advent, which is why the first is posted on the last Sunday of November. Only the first two songs are posted.

This year, I'm going to put together a series on the Christmas story in the four gospels. The first entry is already posted.

However you choose to celebrate this season, I hope that you will take time and opportunity to remember and meditate on the Advent--the coming--of our Lord.

--

God is in this place,
And that reality, seen and understood by the grace of God in Christ Jesus through the work of the Holy Spirit, makes all the difference in the world.

Master 260: Advent 2011, Mark 1:1-15

The Christmas Story in the Four Gospels














Prologue:

As I think about teaching during Advent, I find myself struggling with a question: How do we talk about the coming of Christ during this time of year without seeming to change the subject? "Changing the subject"? Now your first reaction might be to think: Talking about the coming of Christ during this time of year isn't changing the subject. After all, Christ's coming is what this season of year is all about.

That's true of course, but think about this. Think about your kids--especially if yours is one of those families that reads the Christmas story on Christmas morning before opening presents. How well do your kids take that? They may sit quietly, but I'll bet that when there's a pile of presents under the tree to be opened, turning to the biblical text feels to them like its "changing the subject." And as adults, its just as easy to get swept up in the fervor and excitement. Is there anything wrong with that? Is there anything wrong with parties and presents, warm feelings, happy moments, etc.? No! There's nothing wrong with those things in themselves. But when we fixate on them in such a way that turning to the Christmas story feels like an interruption...? And I wrestle with how to balance these. I don't want to be a killjoy. And I don't want to feel like I'm changing the subject whenever I call us to turn from the celebration of the Christmas season to the contemplation of the Christmas story.

Any suggestions? How should I deal with this tension as a teacher? How should you deal with it as a follower of Christ? As a parent or spouse? I'll return to that question at the end of this post.

--

In this series, we're going to look at the Christmas story in the four gospels. Some who have been around church for a while or paid attention during Christmas may be immediately puzzled, because the Christmas story only appears in two of the four gospels. The angels, the wise men, the shepherds, the virgin birth--all of those things are only to be found in the accounts of Matthew and Luke. So how can we talk about the "Christmas story in the four gospels"?

Well, it's true that the Nativity is only recorded in Matthew and Luke. But Christ's Advent--his coming into the world to accomplish the work that God assigned to Him--: all of the gospel writers speak about that. And isn't that, after all, what Christmas is all about?

So we're going to look at Christ's Advent. Kind of like the introduction to a book, the introduction of Jesus Christ sets the stage and tone for everything that follows. And each of the gospel writers presents Christ's Advent in a slightly different way. Each of them writes from a unique perspective, with a different audience in view and set of concerns in mind. We want to look at all of these presentations in order to get a sense of the manifold significance of this event--an event that is larger and more complex than could be captured by any single perspective or treatment.

We'll start by looking at Mark's account. 'Why Mark's account?' you may ask. Isn't Matthew the first gospel in the New Testament? Well, there are a couple reasons for starting with Mark. Many scholars believe that Mark's was the first gospel to be written. Over 90% of the material that Mark covers appears in the other gospels, which has led some to think that their authors used Mark as a source. Not everyone buys into the theory of Markan priority. But it is still the case that Mark gives us the shortest and most concise presentation of the life and ministry of Jesus. While the other gospels record some of Jesus' longer sermons and discourses, Mark focuses primarily on the actions of Jesus. He presents one episode of Jesus' life after another in rapid suggestion with minimal commentary and few rhetorical flourishes. In fact, in some parts of the gospel you'll find that every verse and almost every sentence begins with words like, "and," "immediately," and "then." And Jesus did this. And Jesus did that. And then this happened. And immediately..."

Many scholars believe that Mark's gospel was written to the church in Rome--to a community of believers who would not have been as familiar with Jewish tradition and history. So Mark leaves a lot of stuff out that would have been more relevant and interesting for someone who grew up in the region of Palestine. For all these reasons, Mark's presentation of Christ's Advent seems like a good place to start this series. He'll give us the story in its most bare-bones form and we'll spend the next several sessions expanding on that basic picture by looking at what Matthew, Luke, and John add. Let's turn, then, to Mark 1:1-15.

--

The beginning of the gospel of Jesus Christ, the Son of God. As it is written in Isaiah the prophet,

"Behold, I send My messenger before Your face,
Who will prepare Your way;
The voice of one crying in the wilderness,
'Make ready the way of the Lord,
Make His Paths straight.'"

John the Baptist appeared in the wilderness preaching a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. And all the country of Judea was going out to him, and all the people of Jerusalem; and they were being baptized by him in the Jordan River, confessing their sins. And John was clothed in camel's hair and wore a leather belt around his waist, and his diet was locusts and wild honey. And he was preaching, and saying, "After me One is coming who is mightier than I, and I am not fit to stoop down and untie the thong of His sandals. I baptized you with water; but He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit."

And it came about in those days that Jesus came from Nazareth in Galilee, and was baptized by John in the Jordan. And immediately coming up out of the water, He saw the heavens opening, and the Spirit like a dove descending upon Him; and a voice came out of the heavens: "Thou art My beloved Son, in Thee I am well-pleased."

And immediately the Spirit impelled Him to go out into the wilderness. And He was in the wilderness forty days being tempted by Satan; and He was with the wild beasts, and the angels were ministering to Him.

And after John had been taken into custody, Jesus came into Galilee, preaching the gospel of God, and saying, "The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God is at hand; repent and believe in the gospel."

(Mark 1:1-15)

--

Your first thought may be that this all seems very un-Christmassy. No manger, no shepherds. It doesn't look, sound, feel, taste, or smell like what we expect of Christmas. But maybe that's exactly the point at which our thinking and view needs to be challenged. So let's dive into what Mark does say and see what we can learn about the Advent of our Lord.

"The beginning of the gospel of Jesus Christ, the Son of God." Mark starts things off in a very straightforward and matter-of-fact way. "This is the beginning." Thanks, Mark. --but before we just skip over this first sentence to the meat of the passage, let's stop for a moment and think about that phrase: "the beginning of the gospel."

Where does the gospel begin? How does it begin? If you were to ask a lot of Christians, they'd probably tell you that the gospel of Jesus Christ begins something like this: Jesus died for my sins... But, of course, that doesn't happen until chapter 15. Jesus doesn't die until chapter 15 of Mark's book. If that were the beginning of the gospel, we wouldn't need the first fourteen chapters. Some people might like that--if every book of the Bible were only two chapters long. It wouldn't be so heavy. You could actually read it in a year. But Mark doesn't allow for that. He says that the gospel begins with chapter 1, verse 1.

Is Jesus' death part of the gospel? Absolutely. Is Jesus' death at the very center of the gospel? Yes. But is Jesus' death all there is to the gospel? No. Not according to Mark. There's more to it. The gospel is bigger than the death of Christ--just like Christmas is bigger than the Nativity and salvation is bigger than what God does for me individually and personally. Mark wants us to see that all of Jesus' ministry (at least) is included in the gospel.

A second thing to notice about this opening sentence is the way that it describes Jesus. This is the beginning of the gospel of Jesus, Christ, the Son of God. Now at the beginning of Jesus' ministry probably no one was calling Him either Christ or Son of God. But Mark, writing after the fact, wants to make clear to his readers who this Jesus really is. He is the Christ--the Messiah, the Anointed One. He is the Son of God. Now those terms may not be totally transparent to us at this point, but we'll see that Mark fills in some of the details as he continues.

--

With that, let's turn to the next verse. Mark has indicated that he is presenting the beginning of the gospel of Jesus Christ. And he then goes on to tell us how the gospel begins. The gospel begins "as it is written in Isaiah the prophet." The gospel begins in the way that God outlined to the prophet Isaiah over 600 years before Jesus comes on the scene. Clearly the gospel is not something new. It's something that God's been planning for a while. And what is that plan? We get a description of it:

"Behold, I send My messenger before Your face,
Who will prepare Your way;
The voice of one crying in the wilderness,
'Make ready the way of the Lord,
Make His paths straight.'"

What we have here is actually a pair of quotations, first from Malachi 3:1 and then from Isaiah 40:3. It was not uncommon for first century writers and teachers, when quoting from Old Testament prophecies to name only the most important or prominent figure. Let's take a look at the Isaiah prophecy in order to get a fuller picture of God's agenda and plan.

This is how Isaiah 40:1-11 reads.

"Comfort, O comfort My people," says your God.
"Speak kindly to Jerusalem;
And call out to her, that her warfare has ended,
That her iniquity has been removed,
That she has received of the LORD's hand
Double for all her sins."

A voice is calling,
"Clear the way for the LORD in the wilderness;
Make smooth in the desert a highway for our God.
Let every valley be lifted up,
And every mountain and hill be made low;
And let the rough ground become a plain,
And the rugged terrain a broad valley;

Then the glory of the LORD will be revealed,
And all flesh will see it together;
For the mouth of the LORD has spoken."

A voice says, "Call out."
Then he answered, "What shall I call out?"
All flesh is grass, and all its loveliness is like the flower of the field.
The grass withers, the flower fades,
When the breath of the LORD blows upon it;
Surely the people are grass.
The grass withers, the flower fades,
But the word of our God stands forever.

Get yourself up on a high mountain,
O Zion, bearer of good news,
Life up your voice mightily,
O Jerusalem, bearer of good news;
Lift it up, do not fear.
Say to the cities of Judah,
"Here is your God!"

Behold, the Lord GOD will come with might,
With His arm ruling for Him.
Behold, HIs reward is with Him,
And His recompense before Him.
Like a shepherd He will tend His flock,
In His arm He will gather the lambs,
And carry them in His bosom;
He will gently lead the nursing ewes. (Isaiah 40:1-11)

There's a lot here that we could talk about but the thing I'll focus on is just the two steps that are described here. First, God says, someone will come who will prepare the way for the Lord. And then "the glory of the LORD will be revealed," the cities of Judah will say, "Here is your God," and "the Lord GOD will come with might."

--

After referring to this prophecy, Mark records, "John the baptist appeared in the wilderness preaching a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. And all the country of Judea was going out to him, and all the people of Jerusalem; and they were being baptized by him in the Jordan River, confessing their sins." In keeping with his style, Mark doesn't give us a lot of background of John the Baptist. The other gospel writers will give much more information about who he is, where he comes from, and who his parents are. Mark isn't concerned with all those details. What is important is that this man appears in the wilderness (as Isaiah's prophecy described) and he begins to prepare a people group.

Mark does give us this bit of description about John himself: "And John was clothed with camel's hair and wore a leather belt around his waist, and his diet was locusts and wild honey." This description might just seem to confirm John as an eccentric and as someone that we should probably not be listening to. That's certainly how most of us would react if someone came out of the desert today dressed like that, subsisting on grasshoppers and honey. But in that context, the people would have seen this a bit differently. In fact, they would have immediately recognized that John's appearance resembled that of the prophet Elijah. Elijah--who single-handedly took on 400 priests of Baal, who called down fire from heaven, who controlled the weather, raised a dead boy to life, and performed all sorts of other miracles--he was one of the greatest Old Testament prophets and he wore a hairy garment and a leather belt. That was strange dress in his own time. But the effect was that Elijah was immediately recognizable. People who saw or heard about the guy with the hairy garment and leather belt knew that he was Elijah.

Elijah was not only one of the greatest Old Testament prophets, but the prophet Malachi said that Elijah would come again one day before the final and definitive appearance of God in the world. (4:5) And then this guy, John, shows up in the wilderness. He looks like Elijah, he's calling people to change, and they're starting to respond.

The fact that people were responding is noteworthy for another reason: John was preaching a baptism of repentance. Baptism was not a ritual that one would undergo on a regular basis in order to be cleansed of sin. Baptism was a one-time ritual and it was reserved for those were converting to Judaism. So you can see why it seems strange that Jewish people from Judea and Jerusalem would be undergoing baptism. What are they converting to?

The people of Israel understood that they were God's chosen people. Going back to events in the life of Abraham and Moses we can see how God set a plan in motion that involved His having a special relationship with this particular people group. But over time the Jewish people began to take for granted their identity as the people of God. They thought that their ancestry and heritage gave them a privileged place in God's economy. And both John the Baptist and Jesus challenged these people to understand that just because they were descended from Abraham did not guarantee that they were the people of God. Just because they had a particular heritage, didn't make them the people of God. John the Baptist and Jesus challenged the Jewish people to respond personally to the call of God on their lives.

A similar challenge faces us in the modern world and church. Some people need to be reminded that just going to church doesn't make you a Christian. Just because you grew up in a Christian home, doesn't mean that you have a personal relationship with God. For that, a personal decision needs to be made--a decision to turn one's life around (i.e. repent) and live in obedience to God's will.

John preached this kind of message to the people of Israel and he began to gather a group of people who were waiting for what God would do. Remember how Isaiah's prophecy spoke of the messenger and then of how the glory of the LORD would appear. Notice, then, what Mark says of John. "And he was preaching, and saying, "After me One is coming who is mightier than I, and I am not fit to stoop down and untie the thong of His sandals. I baptized you with water; but He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit."

John, just like Isaiah foretold, spoke of someone greater and mightier who would follow him. He would baptize people with the Holy Spirit. He would cover or anoint them with the very Spirit of God. John's audience would have had some notion of what this meant from the records of the prophets, priests, and kings of the Old Testament who were anointed with God's Spirit and, thereby, given special power and authority. John tells his audience that the same kind of thing is going to happen through the one who is about to come.

--

"And it came about in those days that Jesus came from Nazareth in Galilee, and was baptized by John in the Jordan." And then, one day, Jesus showed up and got baptized. Did you catch the tone? --how understated this was? There was no fanfare or flourish, no impressive displays. Jesus came in such a way that He'd be easy to miss--and most people probably did miss Him. He just showed up one day and got baptized.

Now what happened next is unusual: "And immediately coming up out of the water, He saw the heavens opening, and the Spirit like a dove descending upon Him; and a voice came out of the heavens: 'You are My beloved Son, in You I am well-pleased.'" That's unusual. That's definitely out of the ordinary. But did you catch how Mark described it: "And immediately coming up out of the water, He (Jesus) saw the heavens opening." Mark gives no indication that anyone saw this momentous event except Jesus. This event wasn't a bold display to impress the people around. Rather, what's being given here is a peak into what's going on behind the scenes in this event.

We're told, He saw the heavens "opening." That word actually might be better translated, "being torn open." That word appears in one other place in the book of Mark--toward the end. When Jesus is on the cross, having paid the penalty for sin, he gives up His Spirit, and the veil of the temple is torn in two. The veil in the temple, that separated the Holy of Holies--where the presence of God rested and no one was able to enter because they couldn't handle being before God and would die--the veil that separated the Holy of Holies from the rest of the temple and the rest of the world was torn in two. The barrier between God and humanity was removed at the cross of Christ. Or was it removed at Christ's baptism? When Jesus came on the scene, we're told, the heavens were torn open. With Jesus coming on the scene there was introduced a point of contact between God and humanity--the reconciliation of these two groups in the person of Jesus Christ. Do you see what significance Mark attaches to this coming of Jesus Christ? Ultimately these two events--the baptism and the crucifixion aren't isolated events. That's why it makes sense to see the reconciliation of God and humanity in both events. Because the gospel includes all of these things.

The reconciliation of God and humanity in this event is further affirmed by the presence of the entire Trinity. Jesus the Son is baptized, the Holy Spirit descends on Him or anoints Him, and the Father speaks words of affirmation and blessing. All of this is present and going on at the baptism of Jesus and most people probably didn't have a clue. This is part of Jesus' pattern throughout this gospel. In fact, according to Mark, Jesus will go out of His way to avoid telling people about His full identity. (Mark 1:34, 44; 3:12; 5:43; 7:36; 8:30) Why would Jesus do that? And why would Mark, in particular, emphasize that about Jesus?

Well we know that messianic anticipation and fervor were thick in first-century Palestine. The Jewish people were restive under the burden of Roman oppression. John tells us that after feeding the five thousand, the people contemplated forcing Jesus to be their king. Recognizing the power of Jesus--even we face the temptation of trying to use him as a pawn or instrument for getting what we want. But Jesus consistently refused to be so used. And he may have discouraged talk about who He was in order to keep people from jumping to conclusions--to give them enough time to see what He was really about and to see whether they really wanted to follow. When Jesus finally did begin to publicly own His identity as the Son of Man and Savior, He always spoke of that in close connection with His death and sacrifice. That definitely cut against people's expectations.

Why does Mark emphasize this aspect of Jesus' character and ministry? Possibly because he was writing to Christians in Rome. In that city, they would have witnessed the pomp and splendor, along with the decadence and corruption, of the great Caesars. They would have had certain expectations for what a leader would look like, how a king ought to act. But Jesus' life and Mark's presentation of His work undermine all of that. Jesus, even though He was king over all, the very Son of God, came as a servant and taught that true greatness comes not in the tyrannical exercise of power but in serving others. He not only taught that but He demonstrated that by His own life of service and humility. Mark allows us to see both of these things--what's going on behind the scenes, the greatness and majesty of this man--as well as His humility.

--

Mark goes on to describe what happened after Christ's baptism. "And immediately the Spirit impelled Him to go out into the wilderness. And He was in the wilderness forty days being tempted by Satan; and He was with the wild beasts, and the angels were ministering to Him." Again we see the understatement of Mark. Matthew and Luke will give us some of the details of this period of tempting, but not Mark. For him, it's enough to let us know that Jesus was contending with Satan for a time in the hostile environment of the wilderness. And what is the outcome of that face-off?

"And after John had been taken into custody, Jesus came into Galilee, preaching the gospel of God, and saying, "The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God is at hand; repent and believe in the gospel."

Jesus emerges from his conflict with Satan and begins announcing the arrival of God's kingdom and power and authority on earth. Notice, then, the different parts of Jesus' message. "The time is fulfilled." Going back to Isaiah, remember, we saw that God had laid down a plan at least six hundred years before. And Jesus' is saying that everything is unfolding according to schedule and this is the time for the next step. What is that next step? The arrival of the kingdom of God. It is here now, He says. It is "at hand."

Now what does that mean, that God's kingdom is at hand. Well, in ancient times and for much of human history, kingdoms were not divided by clear geographical boundaries. A given kingdom extended as far as its rulers had authority. Consider some small village in the middle of nowhere. It might be part of one kingdom one day and part of another kingdom another day. Which kingdom it was a part of just depended on who had authority over it. So when Jesus announces the presence of the kingdom of God, he's not pointing to some geographical or even political arrangement. He's saying that the effective range of God's authority is at hand. And the point of making this announcement is that Jesus is inviting His hearers to enter that kingdom--to come under God's authority. He calls the people to "repent," to make a change in their lives and to "believe" in the good news that Jesus is announcing--that God's kingdom really is accessible and available.

--

That is what the gospel is about. That is what Christ's Advent is about: the coming of God's kingdom into this world. God's kingdom came in the person of Jesus Christ. The reconciliation of God and humanity doesn't come primarily because of anything that Jesus does but because of who Jesus is. He is the Son of God.

You may not have realized it, but this theme of God's coming kingdom has absolutely pervaded these first fifteen verses. (1) The prophet Isaiah spoke of a day when God Himself would come to the people of Israel. (2) John the baptist said that the one coming after Him would baptize people with the Holy Spirit. The presence of the Holy Spirit in people's lives is another way in which God's kingdom--God's presence and authority--is brought to people. (3) At Jesus' baptism the heavens are torn open. The barrier between God and humanity is removed. (4) And Jesus' announces the presence and accessibility of God's present rule and kingdom. That's what the gospel is about. That's what Advent is about.

How, then, should we respond? Jesus Himself gives us the answer: repent and believe in the gospel. Now you might think that means ask for forgiveness of sins and believe that Jesus died for you. But don't forget: THE GOSPEL IS BIGGER THAN THAT! There's more to the gospel than forgiveness of sins and Jesus dying. The gospel includes all of Jesus' ministry. Why? Because what Jesus demonstrated by His ministry was the kind of life that God wants for you. He doesn't just want your sins to be forgiven. He wants you to LIVE in the kingdom of God. He wants you to LIVE under God's rule and authority. That's what it means to repent and believe in the gospel. It means making a change in the direction of your life and living in light of the fact that God's good kingdom really is here and accessible.

Now you might think that any decision-making is a bit premature at this point. I've said some things about the kingdom but I really haven't given you a lot of information. Where can you go for more? Well, I'd recommend reading the rest of the gospel of Mark. Look at Jesus' life. He's putting on display what it is like to live in God's kingdom. Watch His actions. Listen to His words. All of those things reveal who He is. You'll see that God's kingdom comes with a lot of benefits. You'll also see that it involves sacrifice and surrender. In the big scheme of things, the benefits hugely outweigh the costs--but ultimately you'll have to decide whether you're willing to surrender. But know and remember that is what the gospel is all about--what Christ's Advent is all about: the arrival of this remarkable opportunity to actually live in God's kingdom.

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In coming sessions, we'll look at the other gospel writers have to say about the significance of Christ's Advent.

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Epilogue

Maybe the gospel of Mark gives us an answer to the question I introduced earlier. How can we talk about the coming of Christ during this time of year without seeming to change the subject. Maybe the answer doesn't lie in pointing out that this whole season is supposed to be about the coming of Christ? Maybe the answer lies rather in realizing that Jesus has invited us to place our entire lives in His kingdom. He has invited us to live our entire lives under God's gracious rule and authority. And if we are doing that--not only during Christmas time but all the year round--then coming to the Christmas story won't feel like it's changing the subject. Because the Christmas story just reminds us of God's invitation to what we already want and are pursuing: life with God.

Think about that, this week. Is your life being lived in submission to God's kingdom? What does that look like? How does that affect your decision-making? God's kingdom comes with lots of benefits, but it also calls for sacrifice and service. Are you willing to walk in that? It might seem like a distraction from the celebration of Christmas--or it might be the very thing that draws you most fully into the Spirit of this season.

Merry Christmas!

[Thanks to my friend, Josh, for the awesome title graphics!]

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God is in this place,
And that reality, seen and understood by the grace of God in Christ Jesus through the work of the Holy Spirit, makes all the difference in the world.