Scripture Reflections – "Make me Thy fuel, Flame of God"

A Tale of Two Fears

Now when all the people saw the thunder and the flashes of lightning and the sound of the trumpet and the mountain smoking, the people were afraid and trembled, and they stood far off and said to Moses, “You speak to us, and we will listen; but do not let God speak to us, lest we die.”
Exodus 20:18–19

The people’s distance from Sinai was already the plan: Moses and Aaron going up the mountain to hear from God and bring the words back, while the people remained at a safe distance (Ex 19:23–25).

So perhaps we should think this is a rare glimpse of the Israelites wholeheartedly agreeing with God’s means of dealing with them?

Nope. What they’re asking for is not quite aligned with what God was doing.

“Moses, when you speak, it’s not fire and thunder and earthquakes. What you have to say is manageable. We like hearing from you.”

[Except for all the times they didn’t.]

“But God…if he speaks to us, we’ll die. So you go talk to him and then just tell us what he said. We’ll listen to you. We can’t listen to God. His words are terrifying.”

They trembled in fear and kept their distance, from God and his words. They expected the words to be different, safer coming from Moses.

How do we know this fear wasn’t righteous? Moses responds, “Do not fear.”

Wait…I thought fear was the point of the boundary around the mountain and the earth-shaking trumpets and the lightning and all. So why does Moses now tell them not to be afraid?

This fear was unrighteous, because it would keep them from hearing God’s words. They think they’ll be safe if they can just get Moses to be the one who speaks to them. They’re missing the point, so Moses spells it out:

“Do not fear, for God has come to test you, that the fear of him may be before you…”

Wait… “Don’t fear…because God is doing this so you will fear him…”? How does that make sense?

Do not fear, for God has come to test you, that the fear of him may be before you, that you may not sin.
Exodus 20:20

The point is not to be afraid and turn from hearing the words of God. The point is to be afraid and turn from sinning.

Fear functions as a defensive measure: we are afraid when we identify a threat, and we engage to avoid it.

The Israelites’ fear identified God and his words as the threat. Their solution was to avoid hearing from him.

Righteous fear identifies God’s holiness as the most foreboding threat that sinners face, but the solution is not to avoid God. The solution is to avoid sin.

What does this story have to do with us? The God who revealed himself to Israel in fire and storm on Sinai reveals himself to all nations in flesh and blood on Calvary.

The nature of God has not changed since Sinai. He is still holy, and he still judges sin.

Our God is a consuming fire.
Hebrews 12:29

But in Christ, God has provided a way that sinners can be made righteous and so come near to him without being consumed: faith in Jesus, whose self-sacrifice absorbed divine judgment and offers forgiveness for all who trust him.

You have not come to what may be touched, a blazing fire and darkness and gloom and a tempest and the sound of a trumpet and a voice whose words made the hearers beg that no further messages be spoken to them. . . . But you have come to Mount Zion and to the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem, . . . and to Jesus, the mediator of a new covenant.
Hebrews 12:18–19, 22, 24

God is to be feared. He is holy and punishes sin. And awareness of his holiness should evoke fear: there is a threat to be avoided. Like the Israelites, though, we often think we can handle the threat by hiding from God, coming up with a solution that will keep us safe.

It will never work. When all is said and done, “our God is a consuming fire.” You don’t hide from fire. It finds you.

The fear of God identifies sin as the thing to avoid and runs to Christ as the refuge. So don’t be afraid and run from the words of God. Be afraid and run from sin, to God, who himself has provided safety.

Yes, God’s wrath on sin is fierce and fearful. And God’s mercy for sinners is abundant in Christ.

Still

“I messed up again…why do I still do this? I thought I’d grown more and made more progress, but when the same challenge came again, I just fell right back into the same reaction.”

I feel that. Faced with a familiar temptation, I follow a familiar pattern away from rest in God’s presence which would empower actions of loving service.

“Why do I still struggle like this? Why do I still fail to trust God like I know I should, and like I want to? Will I still be doing this when I’m 70?”

Maybe answers to those questions wouldn’t actually bring us peace…because the truth is, if I’m turning 70 in the wilderness of this life, I really might still be wrestling against the same opponent. The perfect rest of perfect faith doesn’t come until we get home, to the promised land of the Father’s unmediated presence.

So what questions should I ask? What questions have answers that can settle my heart when I feel bound by old patterns? What will give me hope, nurturing my faint faith after my failures? Colossians 1 gives us a good starting point.

Jesus is the one who works to present you holy and blameless, above reproach before the Father. He’s the one who made you right, bringing you into relationship with the Father. His body of flesh, broken in death, was the cost—and it’s paid in full, by the blood of his cross.

So what’s the “if” for us? What are the conditions of our final status, holy and blameless and above reproach in God’s sight?

“Continue in the faith, stable and steadfast, not shifting from the hope of the gospel that you heard.”

Do you still trust that Jesus shed his blood to deliver you from the domain of darkness and place you in his kingdom?

Do you still hope in Jesus alone for redemption, the forgiveness of sins?

Do you still love the Father—even with the faintest flicker of affection—who reconciles all things, including his people, through the Son?

Do you still cast yourself on his grace as the guarantee of your salvation?

Then be confident that he’s still continuing his work that he purchased on the cross. You are continuing in the faith, stable and steadfast, not shifting from the hope of the gospel you heard. THAT is the hope that will still get you home. Those are the better questions to ask yourself about yourself: the questions that assume the state of your soul is not dependent on your responses…questions about you that are actually questions about Jesus.

Is Jesus’s blood still powerful enough to forgive you, keeping you in his kingdom?

Is the Father still at peace with you, lavishing grace on you?

Does the Spirit still dwell in you, loving you?

Maybe our ongoing struggles are meant to center our confidence on these realities, when we’d otherwise expect to find confidence by measuring our faith in terms of our performance. I received Jesus by faith, and Jesus is still saving me as I walk with him by faith. That’s a reason to give thanks.

“Therefore, as you received Christ Jesus the Lord, so walk in him, rooted and built up in him and established in the faith, just as you were taught, abounding in thanksgiving.”
Colossians 2:6–7

As for Who?

[Warning: this reflection makes reference to Super Bowl LIX. Sorry, Chiefs fans.]

“I waited patiently for the Lord;
He inclined to me and heard my cry.
He drew me up from the pit of destruction,
Out of the miry bog,
And set my feet upon a rock,
Making my steps secure.”
Psalm 40:1–2

I’m Reformed, which means I affirm the dismal view of the human condition known as “total depravity.” When I read this intro to David’s psalm, my heart sings in agreement: “Yep. That was me, stuck in a pit of destruction. God lifted me from a miry bog I could not climb out of myself.” Salvation only comes from the Lord, and I contributed nothing but the sin and misery I needed saving from.

But…if I’m honest…

I often think of my neediness in past tense. I WAS totally depraved, so I desperately needed divine intervention. Now that I’m alive in Christ, I’ve pretty much got it together. School, work, relationships, growth in godliness—if I plan and work and pray enough, I can figure things out and make things happen.

As for me, I am capable and resourceful. I can basically trust myself to order my life and accomplish my goals. God’s involved, of course, mostly to provide that energy so I can get stuff done. Like, I’ve gotten the ball to the goal line, and I just need God to give that last boost of power: a little “tush push” to get us into the end zone.

Except that’s not how David sees himself in Psalm 40…and that’s not how God sees his children.

“As for me, I am poor and needy.”

I’m less like the Eagles at fourth and inches, and more like Patrick Mahomes getting demolished over and over because the offensive line keeps disintegrating in the face of a superior force.

My poverty and neediness didn’t end when God brought my soul to life. Yes, I am abundantly rich now, but that’s not because I have secured something for myself. As for me, I am still poor and needy.

“As for you, O Lord, you will not restrain your mercy from me.
Your steadfast love and your faithfulness will ever preserve me.”

Lord, as for you, well, you point your boundless benevolence right at me. Your unrestrained mercy fills the caverns of my need. Your covenant love and faithfulness will always be the force that preserves me from the poverty I couldn’t escape. My only hope of rest or peace or joy or security is that you take thought for me. And you do, and you won’t stop. Trusting that, trusting you, is to love your salvation in past and present tenses. The only greatness to celebrate is yours.

So…

“May all who seek you rejoice and be glad in you;
May those who love your salvation say continually,
‘Great is the Lord!’”

Fragile Man

With vivid imagery, the prophet Isaiah describes the contrast between frail humanity and our everlasting Creator. You can read his poetic prophecy for yourself in Isaiah 40…or settle for my meditations from the chapter below…or both.

Fragile blades,
Dew dripping
At sunrise.
By the time
Sun climbs
Mid-sky,
Withered clippings.
A million slender strands,
Cut off without thought,
Scattered by slightest breeze,
To decay, to rot,
Return to dust.
The place they just
Were severed…
Refilled next dawn
With new wisps of green,
Like they were never gone.

A field aflame
With hues of red,
Speckled yellow,
Spots of blue.
Summer plains
Attract, invite,
Inspire, impress,
Until most inglorious
Whirling blades invade.
Cut off beauty,
Colors fade,
Petals shrivel,
Absorbed again
By earth that birthed them,
A season of beauty
Replaced by barren dirt.

Fragile man.
We think ourselves
Core of our world.
We are fixed.
We foolishly expect
To chart the orbits
Of our universe,
Settled at the center of history,
Surely
We are,
Each of us,
Irreplaceable,
Indispensable,
Within the sphere of our domain.

Not so.
We grow
And wither in a day,
Refilling space
Occupied by
Others before,
Our moment replaced
By others behind,
Millennia’s line,
Like blades of grass.

But we create –
We build, cultivate, innovate.
We change the world
With new ideas,
Miracles and marvels,
Cities and civilizations –
Those endure.

Until they don’t.
Scythe of time passes by,
Reducing glory to ruin.
Revolutionary Roman aqueducts
Become artifacts,
Employing archeologists
But globally replaced
By the new wonder
Of spinning motor
And plastic pipes.

Why do we think
Our empires will last forever?
History is littered
With the rubble
Of crumbled conquerors,
Conquered and cut off
Like wildflowers.

Only One stands forever,
Indispensable, the center,
Origin, and destination of history.
The ground from which our lives grow,
The sun, the dew, the wind that blows.
The Master, meticulously placing
Every blade of grass within His cosmos,
Unconquerable Conqueror.

Behold, your God.
With strength He comes,
And shepherd’s rod
To guide and gather
Scattered flock:
Fragile man,
Once dispersed at His breath,
But carried home upon His breast.

Deep oceans measured in His hand,
The vast expanse of sky
Marked off with one span.
All the dust of earth –
Man’s substance too,
To which we soon return –
He knows its volume
And its weight.

Himalayan, Andes, Pamir ranges
Monolithic arid peaks
Hold up the sky, it seems,
And bid fragile man beware.
All who seek a summit in the clouds
Find beauty, glory, danger there.
Muddy jungle mountains
At a distance, masquerade
As softer rolling hills of green,
But all who walk those trails have seen
The might of mountains
Mocking fragile man.
But God?
He weighs every mountain and hill
Together in His scale.

Nations that rage and rise today
Will not remain.
All empires combined
Are like one drop of water
To the One Who holds
All oceans in His hand.
No dimension, no amount
Of measure can define
The Spirit of no limit.
All the wisdom of the sages
Adds no value
To his counsel –
Just, Discerner of the ages.

Incomparable his might,
The timeless reach
Of his eternal life,
No beginning and no end.
Our lives, planted, sown,
And taking root to grow,
Quickly faint and fade
Within that span
Of His Almighty hand.

We have not known,
We have not heard,
The grace and wonder
Of this word:
The crumbled ruin
Of our best inventions
Holds a promise for some good
Within the working
Of His wise intentions.

We fall,
Hearts and bodies weary
With the weight
Of our weakness.
He calls,
Summons us to wait
For Him.

The everlasting God, the Lord,
Creator of heaven and earth –
Treasures the weak,
Empowers the faint,
Reaches with might
For exhausted, fragile man.

Hast thou not known? hast thou not heard,
That the everlasting God, the LORD,
The Creator of the ends of the earth,
Fainteth not, neither is weary?

There is no searching of his understanding.
He giveth power to the faint;
And to them that have no might
He increaseth strength.

Even the youths shall faint and be weary,
And the young men shall utterly fall:
But they that wait upon the LORD
Shall renew their strength;
They shall mount up with wings as eagles;
They shall run, and not be weary;
And they shall walk, and not faint.
Isaiah 40:28-31

Jeremiah 17

Thus saith the LORD, “Cursed be the man that trusteth in man, and maketh flesh his arm, and whose heart departeth from the LORD. For he shall be like the heath in the desert, and shall not see when good cometh; but shall inhabit the parched places in the wilderness, in a salt land and not inhabited.

“Blessed is the man that trusteth in the LORD, and whose hope the LORD is. For he shall be as a tree planted by the waters, and that spreadeth out her roots by the river, and shall not see when heat cometh, but her leaf shall be green; and shall not be careful in the year of drought, neither shall cease from yielding fruit.”
Jeremiah 17:5-8

(Seriously – you should actually read the text. If you’re on this page, reading the words the Spirit supernaturally spoke through Jeremiah the prophet is way more important than reading the words I scribbled in my journal and then typed on my computer.)

Not much grows in the salt flats in Death Valley…

It’s me too.
In your story,
I hear mine.
Details differ,
Characters contrast,
Factors vary –
But at the very center,
The heart of all
The chaos, striving,
Restlessness, anxiety,
Troubled doubt
And discontent
Insecurity,
We’re the same,
You and me.

We trust in man,
Whether other or self.
We count human weakness
Our greatest strength.
I can do
He can do
She can do
They can do
For me
Whatever I deem
Necessary
For my security.
I’ll be happy,
Satisfied,
Complete,
If I just…
If he just…
If she just…
If they just…

My heart turns
Away from Life
And Strength
And Peace
To worship at altars
Of my own construction,
Blind to the source
Of self-destruction –
Attempts to alter,
Order, rule my world
Secure my rest
Purchase my pleasure
Defend my treasure.

I fear the absence
Or the loss
Of what I deem
Precious
Because I know
I cannot be
He cannot be
She cannot be
They cannot be
Strong enough
Wise enough
Efficient enough
Attractive enough
Empowered enough
To procure or to secure
The object of my desire.

Jeremiah’s curse is just.
We face seasons
Of scorching heat
With well-founded
Fear and anxiety.
Roots of trust
That spiral into
Desert sand
Cannot stand
The year of drought.
We wither and fade
From trusting man.

We will not see
The good we crave
In wilderness
And barren waste.
We will not bear
The fruits of love
As shriveled, dying
Desert shrubs.

Mercy without measure –
You do not leave us
To the ruin
Of pursuing
Desert treasure.
Mirage of promise
Trusting man
Will vanish.
The one who trusts the Lord
Is planted by a stream.
Anxiety must dissipate,
By the gift
Of faith alone replaced
With confidence
In Providence,
Relentless Your benevolence,
Unending strength of sustenance.

You will always be
Strong enough
Wise enough
Efficient enough
Attractive enough
Almighty enough
To give and to protect
My comfort, peace,
And lasting rest,
Security,
And fruitfulness.

Leaves in drought
Remaining green
Draw from a source
Of Life unseen.
The hottest blast
Cannot consume
The heart that rests
In trusting You.

Rest

Since its release in 2020, Dane Ortlund’s book Gentle and Lowly has brought Matthew 11:28-30 to the forefront of many Christian minds. My own soul was nourished by Ortlund’s thorough reflection on the heart of the Savior, who offers rest for the weary.

Last semester, however, was anything but restful. Constantly feeling exhausted can press us to re-evaluate many things…priorities, purpose, and responsibilities. How do we strive for the kingdom’s advance and also live at rest?

When your days are filled with study and ministry work, what’s the difference between godly kingdom busy-ness and ungodly drivenness?

What does it mean to labor with energy as Christ works in us (Co 1:29)? How do we wage war on sin within and rest in the victory of Jesus (Col 3:5; Rom 8:13)?

The Spirit is faithful to reveal hidden motives and idols of our hearts when we submit to His searching, and there’s much I could write about those questions. Maybe another time.

But somewhere in the process of enquiry (which I anticipate will continue for the rest of my life), I found myself meditating on familiar words.

Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.
Matthew 11:28-30

Jesus calls the burdened laborers to come to Him and promises rest. He will exchange our heavy yoke for His light one. When we learn from Him, Whose heart is gentle and lowly, we find soul rest.

Beautiful. We ought to pause often and read those words again…and again…and again.

And we ought to note the context. Matthew’s Gospel is highly structured, stitching together selections of Jesus’s teaching and snapshots of His interactions to tell a story of King and kingdom. Chapter 10 contains Jesus’s sermon on kingdom mission: He commissions His ambassadors to preach His message and prepares them for both persecution. Some people will hate the kingdom and rage against its ambassadors. Others will receive it and them, even though kingdom people are like little children in worldly estimation.

In chapter 11, the post-sermon snapshots focus on this theme: the proud reject the kingdom. The kingdom was unfolding before their eyes, but they were offended by it. They rejected austere John as demon-possessed; they rejected jovial Jesus as a gluttonous drunkard. Proud Capernaum scorned the mighty works that would have wrecked Tyre and Sodom to repentance.

Matthew 11:25 shifts to the scene of our text. Jesus turns to prayer, thanking God for His gracious reversal of expectations: the most perceptive people do not see, yet the little children are blessed with revelation. Prayer becomes proposition in verse 27. The Father gave the Son the work of revealing the kingdom…but what does that mean?

Only the Father knows the Son, and only the Son knows the Father. From eternity past, the Persons of the triune God have perfectly known each other.

Only the Son knows the Father…but the next words are shocking.

Also, anyone to whom the Son reveals the Father can know Him.

So on the basis of this prayer and promise, Jesus speaks His well-loved call to the weary: “Come to me…and I will give you rest.”

What is this rest, and how does He give it? Well, what does He promise to do in verse 27?

Jesus reveals the Father.

What is it that we learn from Him?

Jesus reveals the Father.

What is the rest our souls need?

Jesus reveals the Father.

Maybe we are weary and burdened because we are seeking a kingdom of our own making. We endlessly strive to self-justify, to do enough and be enough to be sure that we’ll come out okay in the end. We’ll never find rest at the end of such striving.

But “the kingdom of heaven is at hand” (Matt 10:7). The ones who press into this kingdom, through threat of sword and cross, receive promised rest IN the seeking and the finding (Matt 10:34-39). To be in the kingdom is to know the King.

So come. Don’t be like the proud who rejected John’s message and Jesus’s miracles. The kingdom is before you – the King has come. Become like a little child: humble yourself and come to the Son. His gentle and lowly heart reveals the Father’s heart.

And to know the Father is to find rest.

To Treasure the Treasure

Photo by **David Bartus** from **Pexels**

“Once upon a time…”

“See, what had happened was…”

“When I was your age…”

When we hear lines like these, what do we immediately know? There’s a story coming. And each line suggests a different kind of story. We hear the intro, and we know we’re in for a fairy tale, an entertaining excuse, or a rambling tale of days gone by.

Patterned introductions like these get our attention and show us a direction. Jesus uses this storytelling technique throughout Matthew’s Gospel, to introduce parables about God’s kingdom: “The kingdom of heaven is like…” Within this series of kingdom tales, we find a pair of parables in Matthew 13:44-46.

“The kingdom of heaven is like…a hidden treasure.”

Imagine a man who is walking through a field. Perhaps he stumbles and falls. From his new perspective, as he rolls over and grumbles a bit, he notices something odd. The ground has been disturbed. He shuffles to what caught his eye, sifts through the dirt, and then sits back in amazement. Completely by accident, he’s discovered a treasure trove beyond his wildest imaginations. He frantically digs out all the riches he can find and stashes them in a new hiding place. The almost-millionaire hurries home and devises a plan. Perhaps the treasure was a secret. Perhaps the owner of the field doesn’t know it is there. The finder knows that to become the keeper would change his life.

The next morning, he rushes to the city gate, where he can find the owner of the field and the village elders. Perhaps he struggles to hide his excitement as they discuss each other’s families, the weather, and the worth of land in general. Eventually, he guides the conversation to his intended topic: the value of the secret-treasure field. The owner negotiates a price, and the elders are the necessary witnesses. Perhaps they wondered why this fellow was so eager to buy this field. Whatever his reasons, the buyer agrees and the two confirm their deal.

The cost is colossal for this man. He has no savings account, no liquid assets of serious amount. His net worth is only what is visible around him. If he is to purchase the field, he must sell everything that he owns. Is it a hardship to give up everything? Does he begrudge the loss of those sheep, that cow, and those hand tools? Not in the least. For the joy of what he found, he sacrifices all he has. He delights to part with everything else, so he can possess the treasure.

Again, the kingdom of heaven is like unto treasure hid in a field; the which when a man hath found, he hideth, and for joy thereof goeth and selleth all that he hath, and buyeth that field.
Matthew 13:44

The second parable tells the same story, substituting a priceless pearl for the hidden treasure. The man who finds the pearl sells everything because he MUST possess the pearl. What he wanted was so valuable, it eclipsed every other desire.

Again, the kingdom of heaven is like unto a merchant man, seeking goodly pearls, who, when he had found one pearl of great price, went and sold all that he had, and bought it.
Matthew 13:45-46

We can relate to all-consuming desires, right? Anyone who’s spent a nanosecond with an infant knows that from our earliest states of awareness, we humans fiercely desire. Whatever that very tiny person wants, be it milk or Mom or even just a burp, becomes the supreme goal of her existence. There is nothing of value in life for her, besides getting what she desires.

And infants grow up, and it’s the same story. We all pursue the thing we consider to be the most valuable, and we are happy to sacrifice lesser things for greater things. But the trouble comes when our value placement is reversed by our sinful hearts. We place value on what is actually lesser, and so we sacrifice what is actually greater.

The young person supremely values video games is happy to sacrifice quality investment of time and effort into her education. The single adult who prizes autonomy and self-satisfaction is happy to sacrifice committed service within the family of God. The mom who finds validation in social media is happy to sacrifice attentiveness to her children. The wife who cherishes a misguided sense of self-worth is happy to sacrifice the astronomical potential of Christ-exalting marriage.

It’s all wrong, isn’t it? So what do we do?

Maybe we just need to tell ourselves to stop treasuring video games and independence and the praise of men and flawed identities, and then that’ll fix the problems. We need to give up what we sinfully prize. Make the sacrifices. Think and do the right things.

Sort of…maybe…but that solution kind of misses Jesus’s point. (Actually, it totally misses Jesus’s point…) Why would the guy in the field sell everything he had, unless he’d been captivated by a treasure drastically greater than what he was selling?

We don’t need to be guilted into sacrificing for the kingdom. We need to be fixated on the beauty and value of the kingdom, so that we gladly give up our lesser desires. It’s a joy to sell it all and buy the kingdom.

Buying the field was not an equal exchange. The man’s possessions were worth far less than what he found. That’s why he’s so eager to make the purchase! He buys that field for the price of dirt, and he gets the life-transforming treasure in the deal.

Buying the kingdom is not an equal exchange. We trade the anemic desires of this world for the unspeakable delights of the world to come. We pay for a plot of dirt and get a priceless treasure.

Does following Jesus seem to be a burden? Do you feel that pleasing God means giving up on joys? Does holiness feel like the proverbial short end of the “fun” stick? Do you, like me, struggle with sin?

The answer for us will never be to simply command obedience: “Just stop it…don’t do that!” We will always sacrifice the lesser for the better, eventually. The answer for us is to see the kingdom of God and His righteousness as the better. And we need the Spirit’s help to view what is truly valuable, to treasure the treasure.

The Spirit-empowered Christian young person who treasures the kingdom will see education as preparation for kingdom fruitfulness. She will diligently work to become the most effective warrior she can be, sharpening the skills that God may use to expand His reign by her efforts.

The Spirit-empowered Christian single person who treasures the kingdom will see her freedom and flexibility as capacities for kingdom fruitfulness. She will creatively use her time and influence to bless and build the church through prayer and the exercise of her spiritual gifts.

The Spirit-empowered Christian mother who treasures the kingdom will see her children as a field of kingdom fruitfulness. She will gladly pour out her attention and affection on them, laboring for the kingdom’s expansion in her home and in the world.

The Spirit-empowered Christian wife who treasures the kingdom will see her marriage as a strategic alliance for kingdom fruitfulness. She will energetically contribute to their kingdom mission, rendering the couple more effective in their united efforts than either would have been alone.

Have you found the treasure in the field? Has the joy of the kingdom captured your heart? Then you know it is a delight to “sell all you have” for the kingdom’s sake. The King and His reign are far more glorious than the ideas or habits or achievements we can desire in this world.

Turn your eyes from the stuff you think you have to give up and your inability to give it up. Look at the treasure, and let the Spirit of God increase its value in your eyes…so you can and will treasure the treasure.

Peace in Christ

Photo by **eberhard grossgasteiger** from **Pexels**

I know, starting with a super-long quotation is not the best writing strategy. And I know, I tend to skip reading the quoted Bible verses too. Resist the urge to skim, and savor this text:

“Wherefore remember, that ye being in time past Gentiles in the flesh, who are called Uncircumcision by that which is called the Circumcision in the flesh made by hands; That at that time ye were without Christ, being aliens from the commonwealth of Israel, and strangers from the covenants of promise, having no hope, and without God in the world: But now in Christ Jesus ye who sometimes were far off are made nigh by the blood of Christ.

“For he is our peace, who hath made both one, and hath broken down the middle wall of partition between us; Having abolished in his flesh the enmity, even the law of commandments contained in ordinances; for to make in himself of twain one new man, so making peace; And that he might reconcile both unto God in one body by the cross, having slain the enmity thereby: And came and preached peace to you which were afar off, and to them that were nigh. For through him we both have access by one Spirit unto the Father.

“Now therefore ye are no more strangers and foreigners, but fellowcitizens with the saints, and of the household of God; And are built upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, Jesus Christ himself being the chief corner stone; In whom all the building fitly framed together groweth unto an holy temple in the Lord: In whom ye also are builded together for an habitation of God through the Spirit.” (Ephesians 2:11-22)

Aliens. Strangers. Hopeless. Godless. These are the words Paul used to describe anyone who was not a Jew. We had no provision to relate with God in any degree, utterly estranged in destitution. We had no divine law except what was written in our hearts, no revelation except what we saw in nature, no promises extended whatsoever. We had no words from God providing us with clarity of what He expected from us, and we had no chance of fulfilling His requirements. Peace with God? Peace with other people? No way.

And then there were the Jews. They had been given covenants of promise. These were the chosen of God: the people to whom He had revealed His law amid thunder and lightning on the holy mountain. They had His words, spoken through the mouths of prophets and seers. They knew precisely what He expected. They had peace with God, right?

Wrong. Revelation from God does not equal peace with God. And revelation from God did not produce peace with people “not like us.”

When Christ came, He had to break down the wall separating Jew from Gentile, to abolish the enmity germinated by the law that the Jews had and we did not. Christ came to make peace between Jew and Gentile by bringing us together in His own body.

But the reconciliation is not exclusively horizontal. Christ came to reconcile Jews and Gentiles alike to God. We were all estranged. We were all at enmity with God. We all required the work of another to slay that enmity and bring us in peace to the God we had offended.

Christ came to preach that offer of peace both to us who were far away and to them who were closer to truth. Being closer to God than their Gentile counterparts did not give the Jews peace, because they still needed the complete work of Christ just as we did.

The law given to the Jews did not provide them with access to God. It revealed their hopeless inability to fulfill God’s righteousness. The law, which was holy and good, became enmity toward God: they knew what God expected and failed to do it. They had the covenants of promise and broke them. We only have access to God, Jew and Gentile alike, through Christ and by the Spirit He has given.

Christ’s work on the cross is finished, so the enmity of the law is abolished. He grants us His Spirit so that we now can obey what God has commanded.

Christ was punished for our acts of rebellion so we can be at peace with God.

Christ has made us part of His own body so that we can be accepted in Him.

Christ has made us members of the household of God, sharing in the fellowship of the ones He has made holy.

Christ has established us as stones in the temple He is building, founded upon Himself as the cornerstone heralded by both prophets and apostles.

Christ is building us together in Himself to be a dwelling place of God through His Spirit.

So look at Christ. Consider what He has done. Remember who you were. Look at each other, and see how the Savior unites people from every category we can create. Salvation by grace through faith brings peace with God that gives us peace with each other, in Christ.

“For as many of you as have been baptized into Christ have put on Christ. There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither bond nor free, there is neither male nor female: for ye are all one in Christ Jesus. And if ye be Christ’s, then are ye Abraham’s seed, and heirs according to the promise.” (Galatians 3:27-29)

Practical Polity in Acts 15

Photo credit: https://www.pexels.com/photo/cement-climbing-plant-green -growth-207205 /

One blessing of seminary education is the opportunity to clarify thinking about topics I may not have otherwise spent time on. This is one such essay considering what it practically looks like for a church to be elder-led, congregation-ruled, and deacon-served (congregational polity). I am grateful for God’s gift of the church and the chance to keep growing in love and knowledge with God’s people!

The New Testament was written in a culture dissimilar to the modern West, with our present affinity for individuality and objectivity. The practical outworking of congregational polity and elder leadership may not even be a question raised by churches existing in a communal culture. Community decision-making under clearly defined leadership is still a routine practice in many cultures that more closely mirror that of first-century Palestine: a group of people gathers, discusses all the issues, listens to the leaders, and then makes the decision. People routinely thinking and choosing in community probably understand congregational church polity more readily than we who live in a culture that idolizes individualism. Congregational church polity works itself out as elders are entrusted with leadership for direction and instruction, deacons are leaders in service, and the congregation collectively makes decisions regarding the life of the church.

The narrative of Acts 15:1-33 provides a helpful example of these dynamics in action. When a serious question arose in Antioch regarding the practices of Gentile converts, the conflicted parties returned to Jerusalem to confer with the apostles and elders. According to verse 4, the discussion was raised in a gathering of the church, not simply the elders. Converted Pharisees voiced their concerns, and the church leaders considered their input (15:5-6). There is no clear textual reason to assume the discussion was limited to elders and apostles. Rather, Peter had to stand and get everyone’s attention to hear the report of Paul and Barnabas, relevant to the whole dialogue. Subsequently, James announced the leaders’ conclusion based on Scripture from Amos’s prophecy. The whole church then affirmed agreement and sent a delegation back to Antioch with letters answering the question (15:22).

This text suggests several practices relevant to the church today. First, the apostles did not consider their authority exclusive of the elders’: they did not independently make the decision, but rather submitted to the collective leadership of both offices. If this was the apostles’ practice, the church body should certainly value and submit to elder leadership. Second, the conversation was open to input from the entire church. Elders should hear and consider the opinions and concerns of the church family. Third, the apostles and elders were responsible to lead the conversation and ground the church’s thinking in Scripture. The church should respect the elders and expect to hear the authority of God’s Word in their words. Last, the final decision was voiced by one leader, James, and then approved by the entire church, not only the apostles and elders.

Although New Testament practices did not include Robert’s Rules of Order, this narrative shows the church gathered to make decisions, led by elders, but collectively affirming the final decision, even claiming the authority of the Holy Spirit (15:28). If these apostles and elders (many of whom personally saw the risen Christ and penned words of Scripture) welcomed discussion among the church on a matter of such theological significance, and made the decision with the church’s affirmation, it does not seem reasonable to assume that a modern board of elders is better suited to make decisions than the gathered church. The description of Acts 15 illustrates the practical outworking of congregational polity.

The role of deacons as leaders of service is integral to the enacting of such decisions. In the church’s infancy, the apostles commended that the church appoint men to oversee the necessary practical service (Acts 6:1-7). (This narrative provides yet another example of communal decision-making under appropriate leadership.) The deacons’ role was facilitating and coordinating the church’s efforts and resources so that all needs were met. Deacons do not possess decision-making authority intrinsic to their office greater than the rest of the church. Rather, when the whole church makes decisions, the deacons are often a key part of fulfilling them practically. God has gifted the church with people and power to accomplish all that He calls us to do.

How do you see congregational polity in practice, in Western cultures or others? I’d love to learn from you in a comment below.

The Missionary “No”

The first missionary journey undertaken by the fledgling church had been a glorious success. At great personal cost, Paul and Barnabas heralded the good news to the Gentiles, and God saved many. The apostles had reported and reconnected with their sending church, ministering at Antioch again.

But Paul’s pastoral heart will never be settled in one location. His care for the churches in many cities stirs him to venture out again. The first time, the Holy Spirit had spoken to the church leaders to commission Paul and Barnabas. This time, Paul says, “Hey Barnabas, let’s go!” Both are equally valid means of initiating a missionary endeavor.

Barnabas determines to take John Mark, but Paul flatly denies the decision. This conflict between Paul and Barnabas may have seemed a missional hindrance, but it did result in two teams taking the gospel in two different directions. The narrative stays with Paul and Silas, commended to God’s grace again by the church, for their mission.

Off to a great start, they pick up Timothy in Lystra and make the rounds to deliver messages and encourage the churches. Paul’s evangelist heart is not content to return, however, before preaching Jesus to people who never heard His name. The team turns east, “to preach the word in Asia.”

But no. The way is shut. The Holy Spirit forbids them.

What? Isn’t God all about “Go”? What’s with the “No”?

They wanted to preach the gospel in a region that was steeped in idolatry, ignorant of the true God and the good news of Jesus. Buddhism, Hinduism, animism, shamanism – we know the spiritual darkness of Asia. Why did the Holy Spirit forbid Paul and his team from taking the light there?

The team turns to Mysia, and then tries to go preach in Bithynia, “but the Spirit suffered them not.”

What? Again? Doesn’t God want the gospel preached everywhere? Why does He keep saying “No” when the team moves toward the unreached?

They reach Troas and connect with Luke, seeking another place to preach. And in the night, Paul sees a vision. A man from Macedonia asks for help. The team’s enthusiasm has not waned from repeated “No.” They are ecstatic to be so called by the Lord and immediately journey west.

Why did God wait to give Paul the vision? He could have skipped the false starts by issuing the call back in Galatia. Why didn’t He immediately send His missionaries where He wanted them to go?

We could say, “Perhaps it was timing. God wanted them to reach Philippi on a certain day, so He delayed their arrival.” Okay. But they did hang out in Philippi for “certain days” before meeting Lydia at the river. The narrative doesn’t indicate that anything significant happened until then.

“Perhaps God was building their anticipation for the work He’d do.” Maybe.

“Perhaps God was testing their resolve for the ministry.” Could be.

“Perhaps God wanted to teach them to trust Him and walk in close communion with Him.” Also a possibility.

We might think of many answers. But ultimately? It’s all speculation. We can’t be certain why God said “No,” because He doesn’t say why.

So what’s the point of these reflections?

I think most people who have taken strides toward the unreached have been baffled by a missionary “No.” You tried something. You went somewhere. You prayed, you burned with desire to preach the gospel.

And God said, “No.”

And you say, “Ummmmm…is that a ‘No, not here?’ Or a ‘No, not yet?’ Am I missing something?”

Since God is all-powerful, and He wants His name praised in all the earth, why is so much of missions uphill both ways? Why does it seem so hard sometimes to just get to the place so we can preach the gospel there? (Sometimes I feel like Riley in the movie National Treasure, wishing for a clue that simply read, “This is where the treasure is. Go there, find it, and spend it wisely.”)

But I see this morning in Acts 16 that our missional wanderings are not a recent phenomenon. Paul wasn’t dependent on governments to grant visas. He wasn’t denied paperwork, or redirected by health issues, civil war, political unrest, or a pandemic. If God sovereignly spoke “NO” through the Holy Spirit but ultimately spoke “YES” through a midnight vision then, He can certainly direct with “yes” and “no” through the circumstances of our world now.

What do we do with that? I think we do the same thing Paul and his team did. Keep preaching the gospel, wherever we are. Keep talking with the Lord, rejoicing and resting in Him. Keep trusting that God is accomplishing His will in us and in His world. And keep trying to reach the unreached.

(How have you seen God work in your life through a missionary “no”? I’d be encouraged to hear whatever you’d like to share in comments below.)