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Previously on Christ the Truth...

We discussed the impossiblility of a humanistic account of freedom. To say 'I am who I am / I will be who I will be' is both idolatrous and, ironically, makes us slaves of our own desires.  Such "freedom" enthrones the self and simultaneously locks the self off from the claims of others in whom I find my true self.  Satan rules us precisely where we seek to rule ourselves.

So then, rather than begin with Adam in the garden exercising his will to disobey, we decided to think freedom from the perspective of Jesus - the Other Adam in the other garden. As the Son He is beloved, obedient and free.  And yet in Gethsemane He definitively proved that these things are not competing realities but perfectly expressed in Him.  The One who calls God 'Abba', submits Himself entirely to the unbound will of the Father and in so doing expresses supremely His identity as the Son.  The Son was never more gloriously Son-like than in this act of supreme obedience.  To have chosen disobedience would not have been the exercise of freedom but the abandonment of His own Self.  The decision for obedience was simultaneously the decision for freedom.

From this way of thinking we have a quite different definition of freedom.  Perhaps something like:  "The responsible use of the will in expression of ones true self."  Or perhaps "Keeping in step with your grace-given, relational identity."

When we have this kind of definition then the capacity for evil cannot create or increase freedom but only thwarts the responsible use of the will.  We realize that freedom is not expressed but forfeited in the choice of evil.  It is only mantained in obedience to God.

So then, "Am I free to sin?"  By no means!  Free to sin??  Such a statement should strike us as completely confused and confusing.  I'm free to be His slave, and in this way only is my freedom upheld!  (cf Romans 6!)

Once this understanding of freedom is in place then we can side-step a lot of unfruitful theological discussions.  We don't have to argue about the when, the how and the how much of our supposed 'freedom' to rebel against God.  How could we recognize disobedience as freedom or freedom in disobedience?  It can only ever be slavery.

And yet what does Ephesians 2 call us in our natural state?  'Sons of disobedience'  (Eph 2:2).  By nature our identity is given to us through our fallen head Adam.  We cannot please God (Rom 8:8) but can only live out our rebellious desires.

Into this situation Jesus comes as Redeemer.  And He purchases us for Himself.  More on that next time.

But here's the point for now: The Christian does not believe in free will.  Not in the abstract and certainly not by nature.  We believe in freed will.  (I got this phrase from Casey.)  We are not free to choose or not to choose Christ.  We are liberated by Christ now to be free in Him.  To walk in freedom we must begin from our redemption in Christ.  We simply cannot work towards this freedom but receive it from the outset.  Whatever else the doctrine of election is trying to uphold, this must be central - we do not choose ourselves into Christ but rather find ourselves chosen in Him.  We have not exercised our freedom to make Christ ours, He has accomplished our liberation to make us His.

So then Rousseau's famous statement, 'Man is born free but everywhere he is in chains' is exactly wrong.  Man is born a slave but everywhere he walks free since Jesus has loosed our chains.

Next time we'll consider what freedom means for the Christian.  How does this account of freedom help me to live out my discipleship day to day?

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Freedom

An evocative word.

What does it mean to us?

Usually it means a freedom from some kind of power so that we can realize our true potential.  'I'm free to do what I want any old time.'  That kind of thing.

The question of 'Who is this "I" who can do these things?' is usually considered to be a restatement of the freedom mantra: I am the one who can do what I want.  "I am who I am / I will be who I will be", as Someone famously once said.

The link between such an account of freedom and the divinisation of the self becomes obvious in a thinker like John Stuart Mill.  He said this in On Liberty:

In the part [of the conduct of an individual] which merely concerns himself, his independence is, of course, of right, absolute.  Over himself, over his own body and mind, the individual is sovereign.

Now notice that Mill is concerned here with conduct that 'merely concerns ourselves'.  He's well aware that the independent exercise of our wills can harm others and diminish their freedom.  He's no dummy.  He has a whole apparatus of 'rights' with which to negotiate the competing claims of our own absolute freedoms. 

When Christians argue against Mill, the argument should not be: "Hey, if everyone thinks they're sovereign they'll ride rough-shod over everyone else."  That would be a very pragmatic objection and one to which Mill has a whole raft of pragmatic solutions.

No, the problem is not what humanity does with their self-rule (they could be thoroughly virtuous with it).  The problem is self-rule.  Mill effectively poses the question, Who has the absolute claim over my life?  He answers: I do.  Mill's philosophy here (which is the air we breathe in the West) is nothing less than the enthronement of man upon Christ's throne.  

But in critiquing such 'freedom' we can do more than simply denounce it as blasphemous.  We would do well also to expose it as the worst kind of bondage.  Why bondage? 

Well let's ask the question,  Who is this self who is exalted to the throne?  Who is the "I" that can do whatever "I" want?

Tellingly, this 'freedom' cannot positively give you an identity.  In fact, to be true to itself, this kind of 'freedom' must refuse to tell you who you are.  All that such 'freedom' can offer is the protection of a sphere in which you can pursue your desires.  It gives you a kingdom (of one!) and a throne and it operates a strict immigration policy.  Yet this border-patrol must not only exclude impediments to your desires, it must also exclude forces that would seek to direct those desires.  It must repel all foreign claims upon you and leave you with an absolute and unquestioned independence.  You have your kingdom and your throne, but who are you?  Well, You will be who you will be.  And so, left to rule your own kingdom, you are a prisoner of your independence.

Consider this piece of advice being given to millions of men and women around the world right now:

"Don't let anyone tell you what to do.  You're your own man / your own woman." 

Now aside from the inherent contradiction on show here, notice how you are to be directed in your sovereign rule.  You must direct yourself.  And the reason?  You belong to yourself.   This is the infuriating circularity

I direct myself.

Who is the I who directs?

The one with power to direct.

or

I belong to me.

Who is the one who belongs to me?

The one belonging to me.

What's missing in all this is an environment in which to exercise our freedom.  We have been treated as though the choices we make in expression of our self-hood are grounded only in ourselves as individuals.  Yet we are who we are in a network of dependent relationships.  The expression of our identity through responsible living and choosing necessarily occurs within an environment.  Divorced from this environment, any experience of 'freedom' will actually take us away from our true selves.

This is the experience of the ant-farm in this famous Simpson's clip...

[youtube=http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=qnPGDWD_oLE]

The ants may have longed to be free from their glass case, but 'freedom' from the ant-farm proves to be "horrible" indeed.  It destroys their very selves to be 'free' from the environment supportive of their own life and being.

We are the same. We don't exist as free floating individuals to whom the greatest gift would be independence.  We are truly free when properly related to the environment in which our personhood flourishes. 

And this is why Mill's definition of freedom does not help the exercise of responsible choice, it radically undermines it.  Because I have been stripped of all claims upon me, all direction from outside, all sense of a context wider than me, I am left with a self that can only be defined in reference to itself and its own decision-making capacity.  I have a naked self exercising a naked power, cut free from all that's actually constitutive of my identity.

Therefore, necessarily, I'm going to have to go outside myself in order to live out my irreducibly relational existence.  I need to, so to speak, make an alliance with a foreign kingdom. 

Now our experience of this will feel like it falls into one of two categories:

Either A) I embark on an alliance as a dispensible means towards my self-determined end.  In this case I'll drop it as soon as it's inconvenient -- I'm in charge using you. 

Or B) I genuinely give myself over to the foreign power and am determined by it -- You're in charge using me. 

But the bible says, in practice A) is our sinful intention but it always collapses into B). 

Let's think about Ephesians 2:1-3:

And you were dead in the trespasses and sins in which you once walked, following the course of this world, following the prince of the power of the air, the spirit that is now at work in the sons of disobedience- among whom we all once lived in the passions of our flesh, carrying out the desires of the body and the mind.

In our natural state we 'carry out the desires of the body and mind'.  You might think that sitting on the throne of your little kingdom is the definition of freedom.  But no, precisely as we 'gratify the cravings' (NIV) of the body and mind we are following the devil.  Just as we think we are exercising our self-rule, in that act we are being ruled by Satan.  We imagine we're strong enough to pull off A), in reality we have no bargaining power with the world, the flesh and the devil - they're in charge using us.

The similarity between Mill's quotation on freedom and Ephesians 2:3 is chilling.  To exercise 'sovereignty' over our 'body and mind' is not freedom at all.  According to the bible that is slavery. 

If we're going to find a true freedom it will have to be on an entirely different footing.

More on that later...

 

 Rest of series:

Where to begin?

Freed will

Living free

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Titus 1:9 in my amplified translation:

[An elder must be] Continuing to hold fast / grasp / embrace / protect the word of faith according to The Teaching, so that he is able, on the one hand, to encourage in healthy teaching and, on the other, to prove to opponents their error.

The word for 'holding fast' is elsewhere translated "grasp" (Dt 32:41); "embrace" (Prv 3:18) "protect" (Prov 4:6); "hold fast" (Is 56:2,4,6); "make refuge in" (Is 57:13); "be devoted to" (Matt 6:24). 

Interestingly enough the teaching which we are to embrace is (Rom 6:17) the teaching which embraces us.  We hold fast this gospel and at the same time it is this gospel over to which we have been handed.

The Christian's (especially the Christian teacher's) relationship to the gospel is portrayed in almost marriage terms of mutual cleaving.  We serve, honour and protect it - and it serves, honours and protects us!

But why?  My almer mater's motto was "Be right and persist."  Not the warmest, fuzziest motto you've ever heard!  And even if you agree with the sentiment, why be right?  For the sake of doctrinal precision itself? 

Titus 1:9 continues... To what end do we 'cleave' to the apostolic gospel?  So that

1) we can encourage with healthy teaching and

2) we can prove the error of those who would corrupt it.

William Taylor, speaking on this verse, gave a striking illustration of both the gospel's health-giving quality and the need to guard against all corruptions.  I have adapted it a little:

Imagine you get a job as a courier for a pharmaceuticals company.  And one day you are called to the lab to pick up a very special delivery.  You arrive at the lab and you are told ‘We have discovered the cure for AIDS.  Here it is in this vial. We want you to take this immediately to Africa so they can duplicate it and save the lives of millions.'  Well you take hold of this fragile vial which is covered in yellow tape saying ‘Do not open' and ‘Do not break the seals.'  And you get on the next flight to Johannesburg. 

But imagine sitting on the plane and thinking: this cure doesn't look very promising.  I'm not sure it'll be attractive to the folk in Africa.  So you think ‘I'll spruce it up a bit.'  You tear off the yellow tape, break the seals, open the vial and decide to pour in the rest of your drink.  You stir your Coke in and put some sweetener in for good measure.  Shake it up, lose a bit.  Doesn't matter, you've made the whole thing much more tasty.

As you arrive in Johannesburg you're met by a scientist desperate for this cure.  She sees that the seals have been broken and her face falls.  You've turned the health-giving cure into a toxic poison- and lives are lost.

That scenario is just unthinkable isn't it?  And yet many people entrusted with passing on the gospel tamper with it in just this kind of way.  They add or they subtract or they sweeten according to their own tastes.  They feel it is their job to concoct their own elixir, rather than pass on the bona fide cure.  But no!  It is the job of the elder NOT to mess with the bible's teaching.  It is the job of the bible teacher to simply embrace it, rejoice in it, protect it, and deliver it unadulterated.  The bible teacher must be absolutely and utterly unoriginal.  We must treat the good news about Jesus like the health-giving cure for AIDS - embrace it, rejoice in it, protect it, and never, ever change it!  And if you see anyone else changing it you say ‘In the Name of Jesus Christ stop.  Return to the original, life-giving message!'  Because the gospel saves people from a fate far worse than AIDS.

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This is adapted from a sermon on Titus 1:5-9 I preached yesterday. 

Audio file hereRead it here.

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Mike Horton is promoting his new book "Christless Christianity".  Listen here to the podcast from the ever-helpful Issues etc.

A couple of great quotes from Horton:

Christians need to hear the gospel preached not only once in their christian life but throughout - each week - because (as Calvin said) "We are all partly unbelievers throughout our lives."

 

If I could say one thing to my fellow pastors, Sunday school teachers and to parents: we have to realize that the gospel isn't just foreign to us when we are unregenerate. It remains astonishing, it remains surpirising, it remains unbelievable apart from the Spirit.  It is still something that takes a miracle to believe. We have just got to remember that and not take the gospel for granted.

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If there's one thing I love in hearing preachers it's astonishment at the strangeness and wonder of the gospel.  God save us from the world weary tone that introduces each point with:  "Of course we all know, don't we..."   No we don't!  That's why we need the Word.  Constantly!

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Here's a song I wrote for a holiday club for 7-11 year olds. We called it Shipwrecked. 

We turned the church into a desert island and we were all washed ashore having run our ship aground.  The Captain had put us in charge of his incredible ocean liner - he'd built it with his son.  He gave us the wheel and said he'd see us when we got to Paradise Isle, all we had to do was sail straight.  Of course we chose to head off to Dead Man's Cove instead and we came unstuck.  Mercifully, the Captain decides to send his son through the treacherous waters to rescue us and bring us home.  The question is, will we trust the son?

We based the week around John 3:16 and had studies in John each day. 

One thing I really liked about the week was how sin was taught as unbelief.  Basically we taught about our dire position before God - shipwrecked through not trusting Him in the first place.  But then we taught salvation and then the big sin was rejecting the rescue.  On the final day we had one of the castaways deciding to stay on at Dead Man's Cove and make the best of it while others go with the son.  The order of teaching was essentially:

Creation

Fall (which was essentially caused by unbelief),

Rescue

then

Sin (as rejection of rescue) or Salvation (as receiving rescue)

I found this to be a refreshingly Johannine way of teaching the gospel.  Note how John 3:16 goes on:

16 "For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life. 17 For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him. 18 Whoever believes in him is not condemned, but whoever does not believe is condemned already, because he has not believed in the name of the only Son of God. 

There is a condemnation already for not believing in Jesus but it remains as we remain in unbelief (same thing in v36).  The question we are left with is not 'what have we done with the law?' but 'what have we done with the Saviour?'  See Jesus' definition of sin in John 16:8-9:

...when the Spirit comes, He will convict the world concerning sin and righteousness and judgment:  concerning sin, because they do not believe in me.

Sin is unbelief.  It's not, finally, the ins and outs of how you shipwrecked yourself on Dead Man's Cove.  At the end of the day, sin is your inexplicable preference for Dead Man's Cove over the Son, your Rescuer.

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Anyway, here's the song - sound's not brilliant but you get the idea.

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Going to a faraway country.
Sailing to a faraway land.
Captain say "See you in paradise,
I'll join you just as fast as I can."

But then we thought we knew better.
Then we thought to change our tack.
Then we sailed our ship into Dead Man's Cove
Don't think we'll ever make it back.

We are shipwrecked, Oh shipwrecked
Nothing here to make us smile
We are shipwrecked, o-oh shipwrecked
Stranded on a desert isle.

Captain send word to greet us.
Can't believe we went off track.
Now he send his son to meet us.
He said he's going to bring us back.

We are shipwrecked, Oh shipwrecked
Nothing here to make us smile
We are shipwrecked, o-oh shipwrecked
Stranded on a desert isle.

The son came a long, long distance,
Fight through many a trial.
He stood on the shore, said "Climb aboard,
I take you to paradise isle!"

We are rescued, O rescued
Covered in a beautiful smile
We are rescued, o-oh rescued,
Sailing now to paradise isle.

God so loved the world,
He gave His only Son.
Whoever believes in Him receives
Eternal life and shall not die

We are rescued, O rescued
Covered in a beautiful smile
We are rescued, o-oh rescued,
Sailing now to paradise isle. 

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Also, here's an arrangement of a three-part round to teach John 3:16.  It sounds quite good when you get all three parts coming together but the recording's just got me, so you'll have to try it out yourselves.

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Is it too much to say "Jesus is the abolition of religion" as I did in my last post?

Thanks to Marc who commented with this:

Glen, this “religion” as a dirty word is tiresome and misleading, don’t you think? Jesus came to abolish man-made religion and false religion, sure. He calls us to true religion of the James 1:27 sort, no?

Here's a couple of thoughts in response:

You could say the same about "righteous acts" (Isaiah 64:6).  Should righteousness be a dirty word?  Well not when it's the LORD's clothing of me (Isaiah 61:10).  But when it's me clothing myself, it's a filthy rag.  

Now the point is not so much that there's bad religion and good religion and the LORD steers us from one to the other.  As He has just said in Isaiah 64:4 - He is unlike any other god since He works for those who wait for Him.  He is the abolition of this kind of working religion for He does the work.  This being the case, it's not simply that the LORD calls us away from establishing a filthy righteousness and into establishing our own pure righteousness.  To establish my own righteousness at all - even by God's law is filthy (cf Rom 10:3-4).  And this is what I mean by 'religion'.  And this is why I use strong language about it.

If this is so, then it could actually be misleading if I only decried one kind of religion.  It's not as though the gospel says 'Don't establish your righteousness like that, establish your righteousness like this.'

The religions of the world can squabble about which path to tread - the gospel comes from above, not as one more path but as the abolition of that quest.

Religion (defined in this sense) is man justifying man before a watching god.  The gospel is God justifying God before a watching man.

So there's something very radical to be upheld when we proclaim the gospel.  And we reach for strong language to do so.  We say things like "faith alone" and we say it strongly even though there are true and right ways in which James seems to deny them (James 2:24).  Strongly proclaiming "Faith alone" might appear tiresome or misleading to some - but we passionately stand behind that phrase knowing the explanations we'll have to make down the track about what James means and how 'works' is a redeemable word in certain contexts. 

Equally, when we say "the gospel is not about do but done" - we say that boldly even though we know we'll need to explain at some stage that there is much for the Christian to do. 

In the same way - to radically uphold the complete reversal of the gospel - I think 'Jesus is the abolition of religion' is in that kind of category.  It provokes people in such a way that they see the radical nature of the LORD who works for those who wait (rather than the other way around).  If it does that, then it's done a useful job I think. 

What do you think? 

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Anyone else sick of the whole 'Christ in the OT' debate?  Man... some people just go on and on.

I'm announcing a new hobby horse - Christ in the NT.  In fact I think this is where you really see a preacher's Christ-centredness.  We've had the rule drummed into us by now - Thou shalt 'bridge to Christ' at the end of an Old Testament sermon.  But does this 'bridge' come from convictions regarding Jesus the Word or is it simply a preaching convention that we slavishly follow? 

Well you can probably guess at the answer by listening to a preacher's New Testament sermons.  Now I fail at this all the time but I think the challenge for all of us is this: Is Jesus the Hero of the sermon on the mount or Mark 13 or the gifts passages or James?  And the issue for this mini-series - what about the parables? 

Last time I looked at Matthew 13:44-46.  Who the man?  Jesus the Man.  He seeks and finds us and in His joy He purchases us.  All praise to Him.  As Piper likes to say 'the Giver gets the glory' and in this parable (contra Piper's own interpretation of it) Jesus' glory is on show as He gives up all for His treasured possession - the church.

In this post we'll look briefly at the Good Samaritan: Luke 10:25-37 

First notice this: the teacher of the law asks 'Who is my neighbour?'  This prompts the story.  At the end of the story Jesus asks Who was neighbour to the guy left for dead? (v36).  So now, think about this:  With whom is Jesus asking us to identify?  The priest? Levite? Samaritan?  No.  Not first of all.  First of all we are asked to see ourselves as the man left for dead.  And from his perspective we are to assess who is a good neighbour.  Here's the first clue - we're meant to put ourselves in the shoes of the fallen man.

Why do I say 'fallen'?  Well the man's fallenness is triply-underlined in v30.  He "goes down" from Jerusalem (this earthly counterpart of the heavenly Zion).  He's heading towards the outskirts of the land (Jericho) which is due east of this mountain sanctuary (echoes of Eden).  This would involve a physical descent of about a thousand metres in the space of just 23 miles.  If that wasn't bad enough, the man "falls" among robbers.  He's stripped, plagued (literally that's the greek word), abandoned and half-dead.  That's the man's precidament and Jesus wants us to see it as our predicament.  So what hope do we have?

The priest?  Nope.  The Levite?  No chance.  What about a 'certain Samaritan' (mirroring the 'certain man' of v30)?  He's not at all like the religious.  In fact the one who 'comes to where the man is' happens to be someone who'd equally have been shunned by the priest and Levite! 

Yet this Samaritan 'had compassion' (v33).  In the New Testament this verb, which could be translated 'he was moved in his bowels with pity', is used only of Jesus. (Matt. 9:36; 14:14; 15:32; 18:27; 20:34; Mk. 1:41; 6:34; 8:2; 9:22; Lk. 7:13; 10:33; 15:20) In every narrative passage Jesus is the subject of the verb and the three parables in which it's used are the merciful King of Matthew 18 (v27), here and the father in the Two Sons (Lk 15:20).  More about that in the next post.

Well this Good Samaritan comes across the man left for dead and for emphasis we are twice told about him 'coming' to the man (v33 and 34).  The Outsider identifies with the spurned and wretched.

Now remember whose shoes we are in as Jesus tells this story.  We are meant to imagine ourselves as this brutalized man.  Now read v34:

He went to him and bandaged his wounds, pouring on oil and wine. Then he put the man on his own beast, brought him to an inn and took care of him. The next day he took out two silver coins and gave them to the innkeeper. `Look after him,' he said, `and when I return, I will reimburse you for any extra expense you may have.'

Now I don't have to tell you what these things mean.  You've got blueletterbible - you can do your own biblical theology of oil, wine, etc.  But remember you're meant to be putting yourself in the position of this fallen man, left for dead, unaided by religion, healed by an extraordinary stranger and awaiting his return.  Are you there?  Have you felt those depths and appreciated those heights?  Well then, now:

You go and do likewise. (v37)

Don't first conjure up the character of the good samaritan.  First be the fallen man.  First experience the healing of this Beautiful Stranger.  Then go and do likewise.

Or... leave Jesus out of it.  Spin it as a morality tale and end with "Who was that masked man? No matter - just go and do likewise."  

See how important 'Jesus in the NT' is?

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27

Anyone else sick of the whole 'Christ in the OT' debate?  Man... some people just go on and on.

I'm announcing a new hobby horse - Christ in the NT.  In fact I think this is where you really see a preacher's Christ-centredness.  We've had the rule drummed into us by now - Thou shalt 'bridge to Christ' at the end of an Old Testament sermon.  But does this 'bridge' come from convictions regarding Jesus the Word or is it simply a preaching convention that we slavishly follow? 

Well you can probably guess at the answer by listening to a preacher's New Testament sermons.  Now I fail at this all the time but I think the challenge for all of us is this: Is Jesus the Hero of the sermon on the mount or Mark 13 or the gifts passages or James?  And the issue for this mini-series - what about the parables? 

Last time I looked at Matthew 13:44-46.  Who the man?  Jesus the Man.  He seeks and finds us and in His joy He purchases us.  All praise to Him.  As Piper likes to say 'the Giver gets the glory' and in this parable (contra Piper's own interpretation of it) Jesus' glory is on show as He gives up all for His treasured possession - the church.

In this post we'll look briefly at the Good Samaritan: Luke 10:25-37 

First notice this: the teacher of the law asks 'Who is my neighbour?'  This prompts the story.  At the end of the story Jesus asks Who was neighbour to the guy left for dead? (v36).  So now, think about this:  With whom is Jesus asking us to identify?  The priest? Levite? Samaritan?  No.  Not first of all.  First of all we are asked to see ourselves as the man left for dead.  And from his perspective we are to assess who is a good neighbour.  Here's the first clue - we're meant to put ourselves in the shoes of the fallen man.

Why do I say 'fallen'?  Well the man's fallenness is triply-underlined in v30.  He "goes down" from Jerusalem (this earthly counterpart of the heavenly Zion).  He's heading towards the outskirts of the land (Jericho) which is due east of this mountain sanctuary (echoes of Eden).  This would involve a physical descent of about a thousand metres in the space of just 23 miles.  If that wasn't bad enough, the man "falls" among robbers.  He's stripped, plagued (literally that's the greek word), abandoned and half-dead.  That's the man's precidament and Jesus wants us to see it as our predicament.  So what hope do we have?

The priest?  Nope.  The Levite?  No chance.  What about a 'certain Samaritan' (mirroring the 'certain man' of v30)?  He's not at all like the religious.  In fact the one who 'comes to where the man is' happens to be someone who'd equally have been shunned by the priest and Levite! 

Yet this Samaritan 'had compassion' (v33).  In the New Testament this verb, which could be translated 'he was moved in his bowels with pity', is used only of Jesus. (Matt. 9:36; 14:14; 15:32; 18:27; 20:34; Mk. 1:41; 6:34; 8:2; 9:22; Lk. 7:13; 10:33; 15:20) In every narrative passage Jesus is the subject of the verb and the three parables in which it's used are the merciful King of Matthew 18 (v27), here and the father in the Two Sons (Lk 15:20).  More about that in the next post.

Well this Good Samaritan comes across the man left for dead and for emphasis we are twice told about him 'coming' to the man (v33 and 34).  The Outsider identifies with the spurned and wretched.

Now remember whose shoes we are in as Jesus tells this story.  We are meant to imagine ourselves as this brutalized man.  Now read v34:

He went to him and bandaged his wounds, pouring on oil and wine. Then he put the man on his own beast, brought him to an inn and took care of him. The next day he took out two silver coins and gave them to the innkeeper. `Look after him,' he said, `and when I return, I will reimburse you for any extra expense you may have.'

Now I don't have to tell you what these things mean.  You've got blueletterbible - you can do your own biblical theology of oil, wine, etc.  But remember you're meant to be putting yourself in the position of this fallen man, left for dead, unaided by religion, healed by an extraordinary stranger and awaiting his return.  Are you there?  Have you felt those depths and appreciated those heights?  Well then, now:

You go and do likewise. (v37)

Don't first conjure up the character of the good samaritan.  First be the fallen man.  First experience the healing of this Beautiful Stranger.  Then go and do likewise.

Or... leave Jesus out of it.  Spin it as a morality tale and end with "Who was that masked man? No matter - just go and do likewise."  

See how important 'Jesus in the NT' is?

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We're in the middle of a mission at the moment (prayers always welcome!).  One of the things we're doing is door-knocking our neighbourhood and we've seen people turn to the Lord even on the door-step.  Praise God!

In our morning meetings there seems to be one kind of prayer that recurs more than any others - that God would prepare hearts so that when we arrive they are open to the gospel.  Now I'll give a hearty Amen to all such prayers and, in His grace, God may well grant this.  But when we think about hearts opened, wouldn't it be better to pray that the word itself will open hearts, conquer unbelief, awaken faith?  Is it possible that we're separating word and Spirit by conceiving of evangelism in these terms?  Is there a danger that the power is thought of as separate from the gospel and not as the gospel itself?  (Rom 1:16).

I think I'd rather pray, "Lord, though the people we meet be stone-hearted, blind and lost in sin and blackest darkness, bring life and immortality to light through your gospel.  May your word do its almighty work and bring life from the dead."

I'd certainly rather conceive of evangelism in those terms.  When we tell the gospel we're not basically hoping that some have previously enjoyed God's power.  Rather, we're going with the power of God which is unleashed upon all, every time we speak of Christ.

 

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