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Tag: pastoral theology

8

Published on 8 Comments on Intimacy with God – part 1

Last Supper # 2“Those who receive and bear the Spirit of God are led to the Word, that is to the Son.  But the Son takes them up and presents them to the Father, and the Father bestows incorruptibility.  Therefore one cannot see the Word of God without the Spirit, nor can anyone approach the Father without the Son.  For the Son is the knowledge of the Father, and knowledge of the Son of God is through the Holy Spirit.  But the Son, in accord with the Father’s good pleasure, graciously dispenses the Spirit to those to whom the Father wills it, and as the Father wills it.” (Irenaeus of Lyon)

“Christian worship is therefore our participation through the Spirit in the Son’s communion with the Father.” (James Torrance)

Introduction

Participation in the life of God is cherished by some as the very goal of God’s Gospel and it's mistrusted by others as a spurious Hellenization of the truth.  In the next few posts I will outline a biblical case for divine participation. I'll examine the precious doctrine of union with Christ that brings us such participation, and I'll highlight the work of Christ as Mediator, guaranteeing and grounding the free offer of this relationship.

I want to show that intimacy with God is not an optional extra for the more ‘emotional’ among us.  To ‘know’ the Father and the Son is eternal life (John 17:3).  When we understand "knowing" in the biblical sense we cannot deny that profound intimacy with God is the essence of our Christian lives. It is not a carrot to be held out for the pious, nor a bonus given in response to particularly ‘successful’ worship. Intimacy is guaranteed to the Christian in Christ.  It is therefore the indispensable starting point of the Christian life – not an optimistic goal.

The intimacy of God

Any talk of intimacy with God must begin with the intimacy that is within God.  As a community of Persons united in self-giving love, the Triune God knows worship and intimacy within Himself.  The creation does not give rise to relationship, rather relationship gives rise to the creation. In other words, the Father creates for the Son (Colossians 1:16).  Thus, worship is not the self-willed response of creature to Creator but rather an eternal dynamic within the being of God.

Before the foundation of the world the Father delighted in the Son in the bond of the Spirit. Virtually every verse regarding the pre-creation life of God describes the Father focussing His affections and purposes on the Son: (Prov 8:22-30; John 3:35; 5:20; 17:5, 24; 1 Pet 1:20; Eph 1:4-6; Col 1:15-17; Romans 8:29.)

Likewise the Son, in the power of the Spirit, commits Himself to the service of the Father: John 17:4-5; 5:17; 12:27f; 14:31; 17:24; Hebrews 10:5-7; Revelation 13:8.

The Persons of God commit to one another in a common love and purpose.  To use the technical terminology of Trinitarian theology, these inter-relations are referred to as the perichoresis of the Persons. To get a sense of the meaning of this Greek word, think of a choreographed dance around a perimeter. The Trinity is described as performing a round dance, each of the Members committing to the Others in love, service and empowerment.  The divine life is a dance of giving and receiving in joyful communion.

Now this dance is not simply something the Persons do.  It is not a part-time hobby of the Persons.  We must not think of the Persons in isolation, deciding to come together.  If we could ever conceive of a time when the Father was not committed to the Son or when the Son was not obedient to the Father we have imagined the Father not being the Father and the Son not being the Son.  We have imagined false gods.  The Persons are who they are IN the relationships that they share with one another in this dance of love.

To "see" this dance is to witness the divine being.  As Colin Gunton says, ‘the ousia – general being – of God is constituted without remainder by what the persons are to and from each other in eternal perichoresis.’

Without Trinity there is no intimacy with God. Without this give-and-take to God's being there would be no room for us to participate. We must say this.  But we must say more than this.

Intimacy Earthed

It is not enough to say that "God is a dance" and then expect the worshipper to "link arms and join in."  It's not enough to say "God is an intimate community - we should follow suit."  We can't just say "There's room to God, come on in."  If we did then intimacy with God would be our doing.  And it could only ever be as solid as our own feeble hearts.

No, there's better news than that.  God does not leave us to make our own way to the party. If He did, then our intimacy would depend on us. It would be about our ability to spiritualize our humanity up to God.  But God in Christ does something much more profound.  He incarnates His divinity into our humanity.  He earths His own intimacy into our very being and raises it back up to the highest heaven.

At Christmas, He moves down into our life. At the ascension, He sweeps us up into His life: really, substantially, eternally, irrevocably. As we'll see in the next post - the triune God does not make participation something that's up to us.  The triune God takes the whole intimacy thing into His own hands.  And that's the only safe place for it to be.

Next post...

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Published on 4 Comments on Eating Disorders – A Carer’s Perspective

Emma and I have just done a seminar at Bible by the Beach. Emma told some of her story and I spoke about 'The Big Story' around pastoral care and addictions as well as 'The Carer's Story.'  Here are the notes I was working from:

A New Name Seminar 1

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Christ is our Identity

15 times “in Christ” in Ephesians. What a preposition: Can’t get closer than “IN”

You’ve died and gone to heaven. Ephesians 2:1...5-6.

“Seated in Christ” – nothing more to do – don’t need to move an inch.

What do we need? To know more of what we have: Ephesians 3:14ff

Don’t try to feel Christ in you – look to HIM.

To the degree you know yourself in Him, you will know Him in you.

Despite your feelings (or lack of them) it’s His relationship with the Father that’s central, not yours!  You can’t trust your feelings, you can’t even trust your faith.  Just know that Christ has faith for you.

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We’re All Addicts

People are not free, rational decision-makers

Ephesians 2:2-3: In pursuing the desires of our flesh we are enslaved to the devil.

You say “I’m not enslaved, I just do what I want.” Exactly – that’s your slavery. You keep feeding your foolish desires though they never actually give you what you want or need.

Human beings are not decision-making machines, calculating costs and benefits and acting rationally.  We’re foolish lovers who abandon ourselves to bad relationships that only enslave.

We’re not bound against our will. We choose what we choose. Nonetheless, we are trapped.

Addictions to substances or behaviours (like exercise or starvation) are obvious manifestations of this truth. But we’re all addicts. Ephesians 4:17-20

Both sufferers and carers need to know that the sufferer is not deciding to be unhealthy to spite everyone. Neither are they able to choose their way out of this. If you don’t understand the nature of their slavery you’ll only end up hating them. You’ll spend your whole time resenting them for their wilful rebellion and/or beating them with the will-power-stick to make them better.  If you don’t believe that we’re all addicts, you cannot love people through their self-destructive behaviours.

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Suffering is not a detour, it’s the way

We naturally think that the ultimate Christian life is one free from suffering and struggle. Of course we have to forget all about Jesus to believe that.

It’s not that God’s up there and we ascend through our strength.

Christ comes down because we have no strength of our own.

It’s not “There’s light at the end of the tunnel, here’s the 17 point plan for how you can get there in the end.”

It’s: “You’re dead in transgressions and sins. Utterly helpless.  And Christ joins you in the mess.”

If you find yourself in this kind of mess: Know that RIGHT HERE is where Christ is at work.  This isn’t a detour, it’s the way.

The Lord knows how to redeem the years the locust has eaten (Joel 2:25).  Maybe you’ll be able to comfort others with the comfort you’ve received in your affliction (2 Corinthians 1:4).  But whatever happens, Christ is IN the situation.

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Redemption is Forward-Looking

When a loved one is suffering, it’s very natural to want to say “We just need to get the old Emma back.”  It’s very natural to look backwards.

I’m not so sure this is wise.  It seems to me that redemption works differently.  In Ephesians we get saved out of the pit and raised to a new height.  Salvation moves us onwards. In Exodus, the Israelites were brought out of Egypt and taken to the promised land.  In the wilderness they yearned for Egypt with its decent food and shelter.  But the Lord doesn’t take them back to the old place.  He takes them through the desert to a new place.  Their true home is ahead – a spacious land they haven’t yet seen.  This is the whole pattern of God’s dealings with us – from a garden but onto a city.

I think it’s a mistake to try to return to the way things were. It’s very possible that the way things were got you into this mess in the first place.  As you go through a wilderness time, the goal is a transformed you ahead (not the old you which you left behind.

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A New Name Seminar 2.

Church Comes First

Ephesians 4 comes before Ephesians 5!

We belong to each other in baptism before we belong to our spouses in marriage - or even to our children in families. Modern understandings of “coupledom” are very destructive.  We’re taught to cosy up to each other with a meal for two and a boxed set and we sing that old song from the 60’s “We’ll build a world of our own, which no-one else can share...”  But church has a claim on us before even our spouse does.

So quickly crazy can become normal when you try to manage by yourselves.  Far too often I coddled Emma in the darkness when I should have been moving her into the light of community.  That’s a hard judgement call when she becomes afraid of others and when she needs to know you’re safe.  But you need to be committed to life in community and to moving in that direction.

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One Flesh Gets Twisted

FLESH: Ephesians 2:3 ⇔ 5:31.  Those who deal with addictions will tell you that most addicts have an enabler somewhere in their life.

There are all sorts of dynamics that come into play when destructive behaviours flare up and if you’re close to the sufferer then it’s quite possible that you are some part of the problem.

Giving an addict what they want is not love. FEEDING HALF TON HUBBY is a chilling example of how an enabler can give the addict everything they want in the name of love.  It was the story of Patrick Deuel who weighed half a ton and his wife who could bring herself to stop feeding him. He was in hospital on nil by mouth and his wife would smuggle pizzas into the hospital. Why?  She said “Because I love him and it’s what he wants. I can’t say no to him if that’s what he wants.”  This kind of “love” can kill.

When Emma and I got married I basically thought that love meant saying “Yes” to my wife, no matter what.  If she wanted poison… well, what’s a loving husband to do but give her poison?  That’s a stupid analogy but only because it highlights the stupidity of what I was doing.  I took no lead in casting a vision for what healthy desires and directions might look like in our marriage.  In the absence of this Emma demanded more and more of her own way and I conceded more and more to drives which were ultimately self-destructive.

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You Need to Change

Ephesians 4:14-15 - we're all being told lies every day.  We need "truthing in love" in church family to fight the lies. And that means that the carer needs to repent too.

This is hard to hear, but it’s vital. BOTH of you need to repent.  Can I suggest talking to a trusted Christian friend about the details of how you’re handling all this?  Don’t just get your friends to tell you There, there it must be so difficult - of course its difficult and of course you need sympathy and care.  But give friends permission to speak the truth in love: to challenge you on how you’re handling things.

When I did this in Christian community, I started to see a pattern emerging...

IMAGE: Dancefloor - Emma edging towards the dark edges, I would follow to coddle her from behind.  I should have spun her around and danced her into the light.  (It would mean kicking and screaming and tears and accusations – and that would mean I’d have to repent of my need to be “Mr Nice Guy”.  But that’s ok - I need to repent, and we both need community).

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Prayer is Warfare

Ephesians 6:10ff

Headship means being a prayer warrior.  This one’s for husbands but it has implications for others…  There are few other things I’d articulate as implications of headship, but it seems to me that prayer is top of the list. The LORD thunders at the head of His people (Joel 2:11) and husbands make war at the head of their wives.  When I’m prayerless Emma suffers.

And remember community. Some of the most powerful help we ever received as Emma was at her worst was going to another Christian couple’s house and praying on a Monday evening. They didn’t know much about eating disorders. Emma was able to talk about her struggles, talk about what the NHS were doing, talk about what was hard and we took those requests to God. It’s incredibly powerful to open up your needs before God and before church family.  It’s a total reversal of the condition actually.  The condition is about solitary, self-sufficiency. Praying with others is about a corporate expression of dependence and community.  Very powerful!

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Published on 10 Comments on (For God’s Sake Don’t) Grow Up For God’s Sake

grow-upThis is a re-post reflecting on a couple of things. First, Luther's saying: "God doesn't need your good works.  Your neighbour does."

Second, Dave K's observation that, post-resurrection, no-one summarizes the law with "love God and love neighbour" but only with "love neighbour" - read it, it's very stimulating.

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A friend recently told me of some "higher life" Christians he met who would chant together:

"I refuse, I refuse, I refuse to come down from heaven to deal with earthly realities."

They were horrible people to be around.  Their marriages were a mess.  And it was impossible to get at their sins because they were supposedly "hidden" from it all at God's right hand.

Well you do have to admire their sense of unbreakable union with Christ.  I will give them that.

But you've also got to question the kind of Christ they feel united to.

Isn't the true Jesus exactly the kind of Person who does come down from heaven to deal with earthly realities?  Isn't that His eternal glory?  And therefore, doesn't Paul constantly take us from that secure union and then into those battles with the flesh?

Never for the sake of our union. But always from that union and in the power of it.  How can union with this Christ mean anything else?

Jesus said: "For their sake I sanctify myself."  (John 17:19).

Our response should not be "And likewise, Lord, for your sake I sanctify myself."  No.  There can be no payback here.

But there is a response to Christ's work.  And it does involve our sanctification.  It means receiving Christ's setting-apart-of-us, and passing it on in costly ways - just as Jesus passed it on to us in the most costly way.

We do engage with the mess, not for God's sake but for our neighbour's.  Jesus doesn't need my sanctification, but my wife does.  Desperately.  And the way I glorify the other-centred Christ is not to pay Him back with godliness but to pass it on in sacrificial love.  "Hidden in Christ" does not mean hidden from the battle.  Christ leads me into the battle because He's adopted me into His kind of other-centred life.

So, for God's sake, don't grow up for God's sake
But, for God's sake, do grow up for your neighbour's sake.

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Published on 11 Comments on Obedience: Not a dirty word

cartmanThis follows on from my series "Why be good?"

Kath has been writing about obedience and asking what's helpful in seeking to love an obedient life.  It's a good question, because people in the Bible seem pretty thrilled by the idea. The Psalmist sees the law as eminently loveable (Psalm 119:97), Paul calls it "holy, righteous and good" (Romans 7:12). Jude, Peter, James and Paul all introduce themselves as "Slaves of Christ" in their letters.  They love obedience!  They have seen an awesomely attractive vision of life and they've submitted themselves to it with joyful abandon.

We don't like obedience - as a rule. (If it were a suggestion, we'd be much more amenable).

Why don't we like it?

  1. We're not any good at it. I'm always inclined to hate something I'm bad at. (I'm afraid there's no real solution to this one - we'll always be really bad at obedience.  All of us.  Until we die. But it's we who are bad, not the law).
  2. Obedience feels like it's taking us away from the good life. We imagine that God has set up an arbitrary set of hoops for us to jump through. We imagine he's not really interested in goodness, in justice, in flourishing, in cosmic shalom.  We fear that he just sets little tests for the world in order to sort out the pious wheat from the irreligious chaff.  It rarely occurs to us that God has laid out "The Good Life" for us.  We consider it to be merely "The Hard Life."
  3. Law sounds like the opposite of love. Somehow someone convinced us that law and love are on opposite sides of an unbridgeable chasm.  They must have had their bibles firmly shut at that point because law and love go together everywhere you look in Scripture. But, according to the caricature, over there are law people obsessing over irrelevant duties, but over here, we're just liberated lovers, leading with our big, warm hearts. In this world, the word obedience definitely belongs over there. But notice too - in this world, both sides of the supposed chasm are far from self-forgetful gospel faith.
  4. Works seem like the opposite of faith (rather than the fruit). In our minds, we set up the difference between gospel faith and legalistic religion like this: YOU are faithlessly busy.  I am trustingly inactive.  God prefers my internal "faith" to your external "works".  Notice though, that this understanding is actually Christless - it makes me the Saviour, through my cognitive contribution.  But the gospel is that we're saved in spite of our inactivity and in spite of our busyness - we're saved by Christ. It's not really our faith that saves us (as though God prefers internal mental assent to external physical acts!) It's Christ who saves us and sets us on our feet as children of the same heavenly Father.  Now that we're in the family, how could obedience be a dirty word?  All of a sudden obedience makes sense.
  5. Obeying God seems besides the point, perhaps even Pharasaical. If, in the gospel, my goodness is irrelevant to my standing with God, we very quickly ask the question "Why be good?"  We rarely round on the question and ask an equally incredulous: "Why on earth be bad??" (We don't react that way because we've bought into lie no. 2 - we think that badness is a kind of delightful naughtiness). Positively speaking, it rarely occurs to us to answer the "Why be good?" question with an emphatic: "Because goodness is good!"  Or "Because Father knows best".  Or "Because the life of Christ works through us!"  Or "Because there's a world out there to bless!"

Once the incentive of heavenly reward is absent we seem to lose whatever interest in obedience we might have had.  But that's not a sign that we're too focused on the gospel.  The very opposite - it's a sign that we haven't allowed the gospel to properly re-calibrate our thinking.

It's the legalist who sees obedience as an arbitrary set of hoops to jump through.  Legalists are like the older brother of Luke 15 - happy to prove themselves by jumping through the hoops. The licentious are like the younger brother of Luke 15 - happy to find themselves by casting such burdens away.  But both of them completely misunderstand obedience.  We should think of obedience as one way - a beautifully attractive way - of characterizing 'the father's house.'  Yes it is a place of love, blessing, security, celebration, joy, mercy, peace, etc, etc.  But it's also a place where the beautiful will of the Father is done.

On this understanding, legalists are like the older son, self-righteous in the field. The licentious are like the younger son, lost in the far-country. The true position is to be a sinner robed, in the father's household.  But just imagine that younger son, the morning after the feast.  With what eagerness he will serve his father now!  He'll get it wrong.  He'll have to learn. But obedience in the father's house is not a dirty word, it's the very atmosphere of home.

It's true that there is a slavery on the near side of sonship and that is spiritual death.  But there's a slavery on the far side of sonship and it is life and peace.

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Published on 13 Comments on Why be good? Part four

define-good3If we're freely forgiven in Christ - apart from any goodness of our own - why be good?

Everyone asks the question.  All the time.  And evangelicals aren't always brilliant at answering it - at least, not without undermining the whole 'free forgiveness' thing.  So what can be said?

First we thought about the nature of forgiveness.  Forgiveness is not a "Get out of hell free card".  Jesus is forgiveness.  To receive Him freely is not to receive a licence to sin.  Rather we've been redeemed from sin and delivered into the realm of God's Beloved Son.  Here we have free forgiveness, but we have so much more.  We have Christ Himself, unbreakably and unconditionally. This ought to transform the way we think about salvation and sin.

Then we thought about the assumptions going on behind the question.  To think that grace removes any motivation towards goodness is to admit to something very perverse indeed.  If our motives for goodness are only about avoiding punishment and attaining reward, those motives are not good!  Whatever "goodness" is  ruled out by the gospel was never good - it was only the "filthy rags" of our own righteousness.  The gospel kills such "goodness" but it also establishes the possibility of true goodness.  Now, without any carrots or sticks, I am free to love you, and to do it for your sake, not mine.

Yesterday  we explored Isaiah's teaching on this. Apart from Christ, our goodness is a filthy covering which cuts us off from our neighbours, gives us a false "holier than thou" status and focuses us on strengthening our imagined bond with God.  In Christ, we are judged for our goodness, but then raised with Him to spread His righteousness to the ends of the earth.  The good news makes goodness truly good.  It turns us out to the needy to participate in Christ's self-giving love.

Finally, today we'll see how Jesus transforms our views of God, the world and ourselves (and yes, that does sound uncannily like 321, but I promise I had no intention of crowbarring that in. It just happened ok?)  When we focus on our goodness it always ends badly.  When we get the big picture, genuine goodness results.

So first - Jesus reveals the real God.

The God of Jesus is not like Allah.  He is not administrating a cosmic experiment in delayed gratification. He's not interested in moving you closer or further from "paradise" according to your performance.  He's a Father who has deposited you, once and for all, into the radiant Kingdom of Jesus, His Beloved Son (Colossians 1:13f).  Now you inhabit a realm of freedom, love and unconditional mercy.

When sinners hear this, they might ask: "Wow, so what kind of behaviour can we get away with now?"  But that's not usually our response to those who love us unconditionally.  Usually when a person loves you unconditionally you treat them better because of it, not worse!  Therefore, if I've understood Christ's redemption, my real question will be: "Wow, so what kind of God is this??"  The answer is, He's a Father, who counts me as His unrejectable child and who loves me with all His almighty Paternal love.  This is the God revealed by Jesus.

Second - Jesus reveals the real world

I can't overstate how crucial this is.  These days we're tempted to think that the real world consists of scientific and practical certainties.  You know, like the four laws of thermodynamics and GPs' surgeries and mortgages and Newsnight.  That's the real world and the Jesus stuff is a very important past-time that sends us back into the real world with some other-worldly hope and courage.  Hopefully.  And when we encounter moral choices in the real world we weigh up, on the one hand, the brute facts of the matter and, on the other, the spiritual teachings of Jesus.  And if we're very moral we'll allow the spiritual teachings of Jesus to outweigh real considerations.  How very Christian!  Except that it's not.

What is Christian is to insist that Jesus defines reality.  This really is His world.  Like, really.  And if it's His world then a life of down-scaling, cheek-turning, rights-yielding, self-giving love is The Way. And not just "the way" for religious types.  It's literally THE WAY.  It's how, properly, to correspond to the universe.  Because it's Christ's universe.

Third - Jesus reveals the real me

Paul says: "I know that good itself does not dwell in me, that is, in my flesh. For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out." (Romans 7:18)  When Paul looks for goodness, he realises he cannot 'search for the hero inside himself'.  There is no such hero within.  But that's less than half the story about 'the real Paul.'  It's vital that he understands his birth in Adam and that inherited nature - it means he won't try to dress up "the old man" in "filthy rags". But the real Paul lies beyond himself.  The real Paul is hidden in Christ (Colossians 3:1-4).

This means that his desire to do good - implanted by the Spirit of Christ - will never be fulfilled by drawing on his own resources. If he wants to do good he will have to constantly turn from self and turn towards Christ (i.e. it's the life of faith).  The real me is the me that forgets me and trusts Jesus instead.  Or to put it the way Jesus said it: "Whoever finds their life will lose it, and whoever loses their life for my sake will find it." (Matthew 10:39)  Whenever we're tempted to indulge the sinful nature we imagine that we're being true to ourself.  Jesus begs to differ.  We are true to our real self when we lose our old self.

So Jesus reveals the real God, the real world and the real you.  How does that free us into goodness?

Worked example: Many times in the last few months Emma and I have sat in a fertility specialist's office and insisted - against all his objections and scoffing laughter - that we want no part in treatments that lead to "embryo wastage" [shudder].  By law he has to follow our wishes but he's making us insist on it at every point.  If we weren't alert to the issues and adamant about our chosen path, we would have easily been led into a procedure that involves the "wasting" of about 8 "embryos" per cycle of IVF.  A chilling thought.

Now, why 'be good' here? Why not cave in to the specialist who, for goodness sakes, knows about the real world of fertility facts and figures. Why not go for options that will increase our chances of pregnancy many times over?  God knows we want kids.  Why be good?

Honestly, it's not a hard decision.  Not having kids is hard, sure.  But life is hard - there simply are no options that can sidestep the curse.  Childlessness is hard but saying 'No' to children-at-all-costs is not hard.  Because this doctor is not God, neither are the odds of pregnancy, neither is the estate of parenthood.  We have a Father who is very, very good and who has given us all we need in the kingdom of His Beloved.

What's more, the real world is not the world of utilitarian calculations.  It really is Jesus' world.  And however medics want to speak of it: "embryos", "zygotes", "blastocysts" - Jesus names reality.  And once you call life "life" you gotta admit, the ethics of the whole thing resolve pretty starkly, wouldn't you say?

More than that, if this is Jesus' world, He's not a coach who's trained us hard, given us advice and is now yelling from the sidelines.  He's the One in whom every atom and act coheres.  We're not shutting our eyes to the real world to follow our spiritual advisor, we're going with the grain of the universe - His universe.

Finally, the real me is not found in indulging my desires (no matter the cost).  The real me is in Jesus.  Which means He is never taking me away from real life and real fulfilment.  Never.  Because He's it!  There are some burdensome yokes out there - millions of 'em.  But Jesus' yoke is not - it's the one easy yoke.  That's what He said.  His life is the only easy life.  I promise you - He said that.  Seriously, look it up.

Some preachers manage to make Christianity sound like the second worst experience in all existence - second only to hell (but at least it's not hell so it's the clever option).  But no, life in Christ is a life connected to the real God, the real world, the real you.  All other yokes fit badly - they burden you. But His yoke is easy, His burden is light.

So why be good?  Because forgiveness is not a blank cheque, it's Jesus.  He's put to death our point-scoring moralism and raised us up into His self-giving life.  He shows us the real God, the real world and our real selves.  In Jesus, the Good Life is simply given to us.  And now, instead of using or spoiling or avoiding goodness, we're free to live it!

Some final thoughts...

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Published on 3 Comments on Why be good? Part three

holier than thouYesterday we mentioned Isaiah's take on "goodness".  Perhaps no other biblical author plumbs the depths of the problem like Isaiah.  Let's look a bit deeper at his teaching.

He begins his book with a withering attack on the Israelites' "meaningless offerings", their "trampling of my courts." The "blood of goats and bulls" in which He finds "no pleasure."  "The multitude of your sacrifices - what are they to me?!" asks the LORD. (Isaiah 1:10-17)

Oh.  But LORD, I thought... didn't you want... I assumed you were into this whole...?

...No, not like this, says the LORD.

And so we see God's prophet dispensing woe after woe upon the world (chapter 2-5). The nations, but Israel too.  Israel especially, in fact.  The flagrantly wicked are exposed but then - chapter 6 - in the Holy of Holies, the One who is 'Holy, Holy, Holy' elicits the only proper response from Isaiah: "Woe is me, I am unclean."  Isaiah was the best of the best - God's prophet, a model Israelite.  But in the presence of the LORD Christ (cf John 12:41) - in the presence of superlative holiness - Isaiah is completely undone.

Human goodness is condemned - even the best of the best.  And yet, from the altar, fiery forgiveness flies to Isaiah. Guilt is taken away, sin is atoned for (Isaiah 6:6-7).  And from this redeemed prophet a message will sound forth.

What's the message?  Be good and God will save you?  Be religious and He'll save Israel?  No, the message is one of utter doom and destruction (Isaiah 6:9-13).  Cities, houses, fields will be ruined, the people will be sent away, the land will be forsaken.  The whole tree is coming down.  But beyond this destruction, the Seed will sprout - the Holy One (Isaiah 6:13).

In chapter 7 He's called Immanuel.  In chapter 9 He's the Divine Son given to those walking in darkness. In chapter 11 He's the Spirit Anointed Shoot from the stump of Jesse.  He will save the world.  He will bring righteousness (v4-5).  He will restore the cosmos (v6-11).

Christ is the only hope for the world.  He's the only hope for God's people.  No amount of goodness can save Israel - judgement will fall.  Their only hope is the one Righteous Branch - He would begin something else, something beyond mere human goodness and religion.

Christ's righteousness is a spreading goodness - an outward-looking, overflowing generosity to the ends of the earth.  He comes for the needy and poor of the earth (Isaiah 11:4); the bruised reeds and smoldering wicks (Isaiah 42:3); the weary and those in darkness (Isaiah 50:4,10); the sinful, suffering, straying sheep (Isaiah 53);  the poor, the brokenhearted, the bound, the despairing.  To those who have nothing, Christ will be their everything.  But to those who consider themselves somebodies...

There is fierce condemnation for those who imagine themselves to have something to offer.  We've seen Isaiah's assault on the "filthy rags"  of our "righteousness" in chapter 64.  Perhaps even more famous is His attack in the following chapter.  The LORD sees these folk "standing by themselves" saying:

"Come not near to me; for I am holier than thou."  (Isaiah 65:5, KJV)

Don't you just despise that attitude?  Not as much as the LORD does.  The verse continues...

These are a smoke in my nose, a fire that burneth all the day.

The "holiness" of these religionists keeps them "standing by themselves" and it helps them to rank themselves above their neighbours.  Is this true holiness?  We know it's not.  Isaiah has shown us the Holy One of Israel flying to sinners to atone for their guilt (Isaiah 6:5) and constantly moving towards the suffering and straying.  The LORD's holiness is a radiant goodness that enters the darkness to transform it.  But the "holier than thou" keep themselves to themselves, attempting, through religion, to strengthen whatever bond they imagine exists between themselves and the divine.

These were the kinds of people who were fasting in chapter 58.  Intent on strengthening the bond between themselves and God, they are indignant when God seems not to notice their spiritual displays:

‘Why have we fasted and you have not seen it? Why have we humbled ourselves, and you have not noticed?’ (Isaiah 58:3)

Just like those "trampling God's courts" in chapter 1, these "do-gooders for God" are seeking to strengthen their vertical relationship with God.  And they expect God to be impressed.  He is mightily unimpressed:

Is this the kind of fast I have chosen, only a day for people to humble themselves? Is it only for bowing one’s head like a reed and for lying in sackcloth and ashes? Is that what you call a fast, a day acceptable to the Lord?  (Isaiah 58:5)

What an image: bowing one's head like a reed.  Is that what a "good person" looks like?  Religious folk the world over will tell you it is.  They "stand by themselves" in order to "come before God" and affect humility by bearing the burden of being good.  Jesus spoke of those who actually disfigured their faces so everyone would know they are fasting (Matthew 6:16).  It's a pathetic charade.  To them the LORD says:

Is not this the kind of fasting I have chosen: to loose the chains of injustice and untie the cords of the yoke, to set the oppressed free and break every yoke? Is it not to share your food with the hungry and to provide the poor wanderer with shelter – when you see the naked, to clothe them, and not to turn away from your own flesh and blood?  Then your light will break forth like the dawn, and your healing will quickly appear; then your righteousness will go before you, and the glory of the Lord will be your rear guard.  (Isaiah 58:6-9)

The religious wanted to strengthen the bond between themselves and God.  The LORD says, True godliness is releasing the bonds of others.  The LORD's idea of goodness is the complete reverse of His people's!  The LORD does not treat us as good (or potentially good) religious try-ers who need to strengthen our bond with Him.  We are wicked sinners, who need to be released from our guilt and set free.  Now what does godliness look like?  It looks like what our God looks like.  It looks like joining Him in His liberating mission to the world.

True goodness begins with knowing we're not.  It begins with "Woe is me."  But instantly Christ flies to that sinner, atones for their guilt, sets them on their feet and says "Pass it on."  There is a radically horizontal aspect to true goodness.  Nothing is now done to strengthen our bond with God.  We receive our relationship with God in Christ.  He is our covenant with God (Isaiah 42:6).  The vertical is taken care of.

Does that mean there's no doing in the Christian life?   By no means!  Before God, I simply receive, but before the world there is everything to be done.  To be sure, none of my actions can ever strengthen or loosen my connection with God - I am in Christ and as close to the Father as He is.  But there's much that I can do to release my neighbours from their imprisoning chains.  Having received from God, there is a fullness to share.

In this other-centred mission, "righteousness goes before us and the glory of the LORD is our rear guard."  All holier-than-thou attitudes are swept away in the LORD's outgoing flood.  No longer do we "stand by ourselves", no longer do we consider goodness to be a rank that elevates us.  It's a gift that propels us onwards and downwards towards the needy.

Why be good?  It is not an act (or even a habit) by which we're raised up to God.  Instead it's a life, joined to Christ's life, in which we reach out to the world.

More to follow...

12

Published on 12 Comments on Why be good? Part two

FilthyRagsYesterday we began thinking about the gospel and being good.  If we're forgiven already why try?

This question is asked all the time.  By non-Christians trying to get their head around the good news, and by Christians - pretty much every time you preach the gospel.  It's hugely, hugely common.  Which is revealing, isn't it?  Because the question is founded on a very troubling assumption.  People assume that, as soon as you remove the threat of hellish punishment or the reward of heavenly blessings, there's no reason left to be good.  And that goes to show that our basic motivation towards goodness is not good.  Our basic motivation is to avoid pain and accumulate praise.

If the carrot and stick are removed and we can see no further reason for goodness we're only confessing that our "goodness" has nothing to do with the good that we do. Our goodness is merely a strategy to negotiate the rewards and punishments due to ourselves.

Isaiah was always saying things like this.  See for example chapter 64:6 where he proclaims that all our righteous acts are filthy rags.  Notice he says our righteous acts are filthy.  Obviously our unrighteous acts are filthy.  It's one kind of window onto human depravity when you see naked evil.  But Isaiah says, when you see someone clothing their nakedness in the fig-leaves of human religion and morality you are witnessing an even deeper evil. Those fig-leaves are filth because they hide the human problem not under the blood of Christ but under our own 'righteousness.'

Isaiah is making a point that religious people always resist.  In our own day religious folk commonly deride the findings of evolutionary psychology.  Certainly such findings can be overly reductionistic.  But when a scientist claims that "altruism" is really a strategy for propagating our "selfish genes" they are naming a deep truth.  They're thousands of years late to the party, and they're not diagnosing the issue with anything like the depth of Isaiah, but the observation is correct.  Naturally speaking, when I'm good, it's not for God (who provides His own covering for sin) and it's not for my neighbour (who is merely the occasion for my "altruism" not the object of it).  I'm good for my sake.  Which is not good.

So is that it? Do we just abandon goodness?

Well yes.  Obviously.  We abandon all 'goodness' that is in any way threatened by the gospel.  Whatever 'goodness' is ruled out by the free forgiveness of Jesus was never good in the first place.  It was a filthy covering and we must be happy to see such 'goodness' nailed to the cross of Christ.

But after death, there's resurrection.  Having condemned our goodness, we see how Jesus rises up to offer us the gift of true goodness.  Isaiah again:

I delight greatly in the Lord; my soul rejoices in my God. For he has clothed me with garments of salvation     and arrayed me in a robe of his righteousness, as a bridegroom adorns his head like a priest, and as a bride adorns herself with her jewels. For as the soil makes the sprout come up and a garden causes seeds to grow, so the Sovereign Lord will make righteousness and praise spring up before all nations.  (Isaiah 61:10-11)

All our righteousness is like filthy rags. But His righteousness is a royal robe. Or, to switch the picture, it's a priestly crown.  Or - he switches it again - it's a bride's jewelry.  Or - one more change of analogy - it's like a fruitful crop springing up all over the globe.  This goodness from above first clothes us and then, organically, it grows through us and reaches the world.

Suddenly I - a filthy sinner - am clothed.  I'm royalty.  I'm holy.  I'm married.  And when Isaiah pulls back to the wide-angled shot, he sees this righteousness bearing immense fruitfulness, the world over.

Does Isaiah want us to give up on goodness?  Our own goodness, yes.  But there is a righteousness from God: He is the Bridegroom-Priest-Firstfruits.  He is the Anointed Saviour speaking from the beginning of the chapter - the One who binds up, frees, comforts and clothes the filthy to make them "oaks of righteousness, a planting of the LORD for the display of His splendour" (v3).  He is Jesus: the end of our goodness and the beginning of true goodness.

In Him there is simply no need to buy off God, or cover my sins, or establish my moral standing, or reassure my own heart, or put you in my debt.  Every motivation for selfish goodness is taken away in Jesus.  And now, from a fullness in Him, I have something to share.  God may not need my goodness (in order to love me), and I don't need my goodness (in order to justify me) - but there's someone who does need my goodness.  You do.  And now - for the very first time - I can actually serve you.  I'm free to be good.

The gospel does not end goodness, it establishes it.  Without the free forgiveness of Jesus you can't be good.  Now you can.

In other words:

19 We know that whatever the law says, it says to those who are under the law, so that every mouth may be silenced and the whole world held accountable to God. 20 Therefore no one will be declared righteous in God’s sight by the works of the law; rather, through the law we become conscious of our sin...

21 But now apart from the law the righteousness of God has been made known, to which the Law and the Prophets testify. 22 This righteousness is given through the faithfulness of Jesus Christ to all who believe... 

28 We maintain that a person is justified by faith apart from the works of the law.

31 Do we, then, nullify the law by this faith? Not at all! Rather, we uphold the law.  (Romans 3:19-31)

To be continued...

12

Published on 12 Comments on Why be good? Part one

hellIn March I had a fascinating discussion with three Muslims at Plymouth University.  Having just given a talk, my microphone was still on and I have the whole 40 minutes recorded.  Twice in the course of our conversation a Muslim man admitted to me that, if there was no fear of punishment, he would 'get drunk and commit fornication all day.'

Rather than using this as proof of the perversity of the human heart, they used it as proof of the perversity of the cross.  As far as they could see, this was the only logical response to a belief in Christ's atonement. If you knew you were forgiven once and for all, you would enjoy an over-realised Islamic eschatology right?  You'd embrace 'paradise now' - rivers of wine, never-ending sex. That's the life, isn't it?  It's just that Allah has ordained this life as a test. If you can forego such pleasures now, you'll be proved worthy of them later.

To me this sounds like those emotional intelligence tests where a child is told to resist eating a marshmallow for 10 minutes. If they pass the test, they get two for proving their patience.  Is this how God operates?  What would this mean about the character of God?  What would it mean about the character of 'this life'?  What would it mean about the character of goodness?

I've been thinking about this a lot because I've heard many Christians essentially ask the same question as the Muslims: Why be good?  I mean really.  If Jesus has really atoned for all my sins - past, present and future - why not get drunk and commit fornication all day?

At this point various answers are given that sound very close to:

"You're forgiven, but not that forgiven."

"You're provisionally forgiven, but you can lose those privileges."

"If you commit sins graded "delta" and above you prove that you were probably never forgiven in the first place."

"You're only forgiven if you're really repentant (and by that we mean 'you've been a decent chap(pette) all your life', none of those 'death-bed conversion' schemes)."

In other words, we don't really believe the gospel.  We turn the promise of forgiveness into a status to be earned, and why?  Well, because our fear is basically the same fear as the Muslims I spoke to.  We imagine that declaring the free forgiveness of sins for the sake of Christ alone will lead to an exodus from the church and into the strip-club. Millions of Christians will rush into sin brandishing their 'get out of hell free' cards in the face of all naysayers - whether from earth or heaven.

Except that we won't. Because there's no such thing as a 'get out of hell free' card.  There's only Jesus.  He is our forgiveness, our free forgiveness.  But Jesus is the One in whom these realities exist:

The Father has rescued us from the dominion of darkness and brought us into the kingdom of the beloved Son, in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins.  (Colossians 1:13-14)

We are not given diplomatic immunity and then set loose into enemy territory.  We are rescued from enemy territory and delivered into a kingdom iridescent with the Father's love.  We are now in Jesus, and He is the inescapable environment of our lives. Forgiveness is not a 'wiped slate', or even a 'Teflon slate'.  Forgiveness is a realm into which we've been brought in Jesus - a realm of sonship; of freedom; of fellowship with the Beloved.

Why not get drunk?  Ephesians 5:18 says the Spirit of this sonship is better. Why not 'commit fornication'? Paul writes to Corinthians visiting brothels and what does he say? Does he say, "Stop it, Jesus remains outside the brothel, arms-folded waiting for a very good display of contrition before He'll even consider forgiving this"?  No, he says to the Corinthians "Stop it, you're taking Jesus into the brothel with you!" (1 Corinthians 6:15-17)  And you say, "How horrible!"  Well exactly.  So don't do it.  But don't give up fornicating because Jesus isn't with you all the way.  Stop it because He is.

Paul doesn't say to sinners caught in the act: "Now you have less than forgiveness", he says "You have more."  We have so much more - we have Christ Himself.

Why be good?  Not to avoid punishment. If you're "good" in order to avoid punishment or to gain some other reward, then that aint "good"!  That's self-interest.  Be good because Jesus is yours and you are His.  He has redeemed you, brought you out of the slavery of sin and opened your eyes to the real God and the real world.  More on this tomorrow...

10

Published on 10 Comments on The search for identity, or emotional gold-digging

"Finding your identity in Jesus" is very popular right now.  It's the topical sermon series of choice, the convention title, the women's breakfast talk.  Is it just me, or is this subject wheeled out at "women's events" much more than men's?

I see it a lot in Christian bookshops. Flicking through the women's devotionals I commonly witness a good cop, bad cop approach.  One day you should really get your act together and become a woman of substance/ humility/ excellence/ gentleness/ boldness/ baking, etc.  The next, while you're still reeling, you're reminded how your identity is independent of your achievements, you're a princess and you really must learn to rest in that.

Now here's something weird, 'learning how to rest in my Christian identity' is almost always experienced as more burdensome than admonishments to 'godliness'.  Why?  Well, here's a guess - because whether your devotional is on a carrot day or a stick day it's basically about you!  Can you look within and find enough strength to be godly or enough peace to be content?  Answer: No, but no-one wants to let the side down, so we march on.

And in the absence of serious reflection upon Christ the reader of such devotionals has to use their imaginations to appreciate their Christian identity and how it all applies to them.  Verses are deployed in order to spur you on or prop you up, but not to show Christ off.  It's about grabbing a sweet verse from Psalms today to help yesterday's medicine from Proverbs 31 go down.

So what's wrong with all this.

Well, first of all, when this search for identity becomes the goal rather than the fruit of our union with Christ, it's using Jesus to feel better about me.  So that's a bit off.  Think of it this way, you might like the way your spouse makes you feel, and that's a nice fringe benefit of the relationship.  But if your goal in marriage is to get that feeling, you're an emotional gold-digger.  And seeking that security (rather than trusting it) always back-fires.  The assurance: "Of course I love you" is less and less convincing the more you've had to ask for it.

You see it just doesn't work.  Maybe I'm wrong - contradict me in the comments.  But have you ever met someone who's found a rock-solid, contented sense of Christian identity by searching for "identity"?  I haven't.  And I think it's because it's psychologically impossible.

It's unconvincing when you repeat human affirmations to yourself "You're good enough, you're smart enough and doggonnit, people like you."  But, psychologically speaking, it's rarely any more re-assuring when you mentally sign God's name to the bottom of them.

Why?  Many reasons, but perhaps mainly because we imagine God's basically like us anyway.  And without really opening up the word of Christ we're never going to dethrone the God of our imaginations who - surprise, surprise - thinks of us just like we think of ourselves.  So signing His name to the bottom of some lovely sentiments only adds to the sense that this is basically wish-fulfillment.

Want a good sense of self?  Forget self.  That is precisely Jesus' teaching on the matter:

Whoever finds his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it. (Matthew 10:39)

The search for yourself can never work.  Because finding a lost person is never any help.  Lost people don't need to find themselves. If they do, they'll only find that they're lost.  Which is no great find.

If you're lost you need to find home. The good news of Jesus is that He's come from Home to find us (Luke 19:10).  It's as we're swept up into His life - like a sheep hoisted onto the shepherd's shoulders - that we'll find ourselves.  When we're completely knocked off our feet by Jesus - then we are found.  And none of it happens through our own grand quest.  Only through His.

You want to know the Shepherd hoisting you onto His strong shoulders?  Keep looking at the Shepherd. Keep looking at how He seeks and saves. Allow yourself to be told of His coming, His doing and dying.  The Spirit applies the word of Christ to you as you look to Him.

As the Issues Etc motto goes: "It's not about you, it's about Jesus for you."

Now notice this crucial point: this isn't your cue to play the noble martyr.  You're not abandoning self-regard because Jesus is so self-centred and you need to get on board with His ego-trip.  (Well done you!)  No, you're abandoning your self-image because you're no good at it. Entrust it to Jesus, because He really is for you.  And the more you see His self-giving love, the less you'll need your self-accomplished identity.

So often I'm tempted to complain: "I know I'm meant to feel God's love, but I just don't". But right there I'm casting myself as a victim. I've tried ever so hard but God's love just hasn't made contact with me, poor me!  This is a lie and a great affront to the One who's loved me to death.  The problem is not that I've failed to appreciate my belovedness, I have failed to appreciate His mighty, blood-earnest love.

Knowing your belovedness is not the point. Knowing His lovingness - His cross - is.  Aim at Christ and you'll get your identity. Aim at your identity and you'll get neither Christ nor identity.

2

Published on 2 Comments on Self-Harm Awareness Day
Click for story at selfharm.co.uk
Click for story at selfharm.co.uk

Emma's written a very helpful intro to self-harm issues just now. I think it's especially important to say (as she does in introduction) that self-harm is a universal human problem. It's not "the crazies over there."  You and I self-harm every day.  Don't believe me?  Just take note of your self-talk next time you fail at something or get even mildly embarrassed in a social setting. You - like me - will be abusing yourself in ways you'd find shocking if it were directed at others.

None of this is to minimize the deep struggles which self-injurers face when they cut themselves with knives rather than words. But it is to say "We're all in this together" and everyone can empathise to some degree or another.

I thought that here I'd throw in a couple of thoughts that I've found extremely useful from Dan Allender. His talks called "The Wounded Heart" have been foundational for my own pastoral theology (the book is good, but not a patch on the talks).

At one point he talks about the human personality, created with dignity, fallen in depravity and then adulterated with layers as we try to manage life.

It looks something like this...
The Wounded Heart

Beginning from the centre, there are certain things we tell ourselves - strategies for negotiating a fallen world.

Dignity and Depravity:  “I don’t want you to see how bad or how good I am.”

We say both.  I certainly want to cover up my short-comings, but I also want to hide my giftings too. If you know how good I am you'll want more of me. And I'm not sure I'll be able to meet those expectations.  And so I hide.

Shame: “I’m exposed”

I don't need to tell myself to feel shame. At the speed of light, exposure unleashes the engulfing flood of shame.

Contempt (for others and for self).  “I hate you / I hate myself."

There are only two covers for shame - the righteousness of Christ, or hatred.  If I don't receive the covering of Christ, I take my revenge on whoever stands to remind me of my failures.  God reminds me, so I hate Him.  You remind me, so I hate you. And I constantly and inescapably remind me. So I hate me. With frightening ferocity.

Performance: “Here’s my long-term strategy for minimizing shame/exposure in the future.”

Because the experience of shame is so horrific, I devise schemes for avoiding it / handling it when it occurs. For all of us, we avoid circumstances in which it might arise. But if I can't seem to escape those feelings I will hit upon a strategy for managing that shame. Sometimes these strategies will be very elaborate and all-consuming. That's part of the (sub-conscious) plan though. I'm heavily invested in being able to handle these hellish feelings.

.

Self-harm might seem irrational as a response to our negative feelings, but there is some sense to it. My control-seeking flesh would love to locate the problem in me so that the solution is also in me. My horror at being exposed is thus quickly (instantly in our experience) turned to hatred and this hatred is turned on myself.

The expression of this hatred in self-harm does give relief in the short-run.  I can incarnate the problem – turning the shame into a tangible target for my hatred.  But in doing this I'm redefining my problems.  Instead of dealing with my real problems - sin and depravity - with the blood of Christ, I localise and domesticate them: ‘I’m so stupid/I’m so ugly’ - and it's my blood that pays.

In all this, I incarnate the problems, I take responsibility, I suffer and bleed for them.  But all the while my High Priest stands before the Father, pleading His own blood for me.  And Jesus says:

"Glen, your problem is not that you're ugly, fat, weird, dumb, awkward, a loser. Your problem is wayyyyy bigger than that!  No animal blood could atone for your sins. No human blood could atone for your sins.  Only the blood of God could make things right (Acts 20:28). But my blood has been shed. And it totally covers you.

I have included you in my death. I have put the old you to death. You were crucified with me and no longer live. It's all been judged. It's all been satisfied. And now you're risen with me, far beyond sin, death, judgement and hell.  There can be no condemnation for you. You belong to me and the Father beams at you with pride.

When you feel you need to pay - I promise, it's finished. When you feel you need to suffer - I've gone to hell and back. When you feel that you're exposed - I am your covering.  When you feel you're too ashamed - you're spotless in my sight."

You have been given fullness in Christ, who is the Head over every power and authority. 11 In him you were also circumcised, in the putting off of the flesh, not with a circumcision done by the hands of men but with the circumcision done by Christ, 12 having been buried with him in baptism and raised with him through your faith in the power of God, who raised him from the dead. 13 When you were dead in your sins and in the uncircumcision of your flesh, God made you alive with Christ. He forgave us all our sins, 14 having cancelled the written code, with its regulations, that was against us and that stood opposed to us; he took it away, nailing it to the cross...

20 Since you died with Christ to the basic principles of this world, why, as though you still belonged to it, do you submit to its rules: 21 "Do not handle! Do not taste! Do not touch!"? 22 These are all destined to perish with use, because they are based on human commands and teachings. 23 Such regulations indeed have an appearance of wisdom, with their self-imposed worship, their false humility and their harsh treatment of the body, but they lack any value in restraining sensual indulgence.

Since, then, you have been raised with Christ, set your hearts on things above, where Christ is seated at the right hand of God. 2 Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things. 3 For you died, and your life is now hidden with Christ in God.

--Colossians 2:10-3:3

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