One of the fascinating things about visiting lands with an ancient history is the chance to see old forts and castles. We don't have many of these impressive old structures here in the United States, but anyone who tours their crumpled remains can tell that a vast amount of time and effort went into their creation and upkeep. Why such an expense in an era of scarcity? Because they were absolutely necessary. The strong walls and secure gates of an ancient city gave its population a sense of security in a world full of uncertainty. When an enemy army appeared, people needed to know that they had a place to retreat to and find safety.
In Proverbs 18:10, we are told "The name of the LORD is a strong tower; the righteous run to it and are safe." The people of Israel knew the value of strong defensive structures because they were surrounded by hostile neighbors and situated at the midpoint between rival superpowers. God's people had plenty of occasions to retreat into strongholds. Yet the text is telling us something surprising; the name of the LORD is the source of refuge and strength. Not a physical wall of stone, nor an iron reinforced gate, rather simply the name of God.
How can the name of God be a refuge for the people of God? The name of God represents the promises of God. When God wanted to bring mankind back from wandering in despair he began with a Covenant with Abraham. God's Covenant was a series of promises and obligations both by God and by Abraham. As such, the name of God was symbolic of his promises to save and protect his people. When God called Moses to lead the people out of Egyptian bondage to the Promised Land he told Moses that his name, "I AM", would be sufficient for the people to know that Moses really represented God.
The protection offered by God has often been a physical salvation for his people, safety from all sorts of dangers, but in the end, that isn't good enough. If God were to protect his people from danger throughout their lives and yet make no provision for their souls beyond death, his protection would be a short-term success but a long-term failure. Thankfully, in addition to help and support as we live our lives now, God offers to those who follow him, the righteous, the promise that their hope in him will never be in vain. Even if in this world we are to suffer, even if in this world our lives are lost due to violence of evil men, we will have our hope, our refuge, secure in the very name of God. All those who run to God for safety will find a strong tower, a refuge secure against any storm.
This blog serves as an outreach for Pastor Randy Powell of the First Baptist Church of Franklin, PA. Feel free to ask questions or send me an e-mail at pastorpowell@hotmail.com
Wednesday, March 13, 2013
Tuesday, March 12, 2013
We belong to another world
There has always been a tension in Church history between the desire to live in a Christian society with a Christian government and ethic (an idea that later was termed Christendom), and Jesus' stern teaching, "The man who loves his life will lose it, while the man who hates his life in this world will keep it for eternal life." (John 12:25) When the Reformation came to Northern Europe is was not a rejection of the notion of Christendom, but rather a replacing of the Catholic/Government alliance with a Lutheran/Government or Reformed/Government alliance. The idea that society could be shaped and molded into a form that would make Jesus' words unnecessary, or at least much less urgent, continued.
That there wasn't any viable alternative to such an arrangement didn't prevent that feeling of unease from continuing. Eventually, a new form of alliance, one of governmental indifference to religious practice would be attempted by the upstart American government, but such a novel idea needs time to prove its staying power. There were some, however, who could not stomach the way in which people could be "Christians" and get along in this world with no trouble at all. How can it be such an easy thing to take up a cross and follow Jesus?
One of the more peculiar of these men was the Danish Lutheran Soren Kierkegaard. Although much is his writing is rather odd, Kierkegaard was right to point out that, "Original Christianity relates itself so militantly to this world that its view is: not to want to slip happily and comfortably through this world but to take care to collide in dead earnest with this world...Thus there is a world of difference, a heaven of a difference between the Mynsterian life-view (which actually is Epicurean, one of the enjoyment of life, zest for life, belonging to this world) and the Christian view, which is one of suffering, of enthusiasm for death, belonging to another world." (The Moment and Late Writings, p. 206)
What Kierkegaard was trying to explain was the frustration he felt watching a Church which had seemed to make its peace with this world. A Church that had lost its counter-cultural role because it had been the dominant cultural force for too long. How does own keep a revolutionary zeal, such as Jesus demonstrated going up against the religious authorities of his day, when the revolution has won? How do we maintain our "in the world, but not of the world" (Romans 12:2) fervor when Western culture is so fully intertwined with Christian thought?
The Post-Modern decline of Christendom has alleviated some of this tension, as churches find themselves feeling like outsiders within their own culture once more. The obligation on those who would follow Jesus of Nazareth will always be to remain salt and light to those around us, beacons of hope calling out for repentance and reconciliation with God; even if you find yourself in the heart of Christendom, this is not your home, our citizenship is in heaven.
That there wasn't any viable alternative to such an arrangement didn't prevent that feeling of unease from continuing. Eventually, a new form of alliance, one of governmental indifference to religious practice would be attempted by the upstart American government, but such a novel idea needs time to prove its staying power. There were some, however, who could not stomach the way in which people could be "Christians" and get along in this world with no trouble at all. How can it be such an easy thing to take up a cross and follow Jesus?
One of the more peculiar of these men was the Danish Lutheran Soren Kierkegaard. Although much is his writing is rather odd, Kierkegaard was right to point out that, "Original Christianity relates itself so militantly to this world that its view is: not to want to slip happily and comfortably through this world but to take care to collide in dead earnest with this world...Thus there is a world of difference, a heaven of a difference between the Mynsterian life-view (which actually is Epicurean, one of the enjoyment of life, zest for life, belonging to this world) and the Christian view, which is one of suffering, of enthusiasm for death, belonging to another world." (The Moment and Late Writings, p. 206)
What Kierkegaard was trying to explain was the frustration he felt watching a Church which had seemed to make its peace with this world. A Church that had lost its counter-cultural role because it had been the dominant cultural force for too long. How does own keep a revolutionary zeal, such as Jesus demonstrated going up against the religious authorities of his day, when the revolution has won? How do we maintain our "in the world, but not of the world" (Romans 12:2) fervor when Western culture is so fully intertwined with Christian thought?
The Post-Modern decline of Christendom has alleviated some of this tension, as churches find themselves feeling like outsiders within their own culture once more. The obligation on those who would follow Jesus of Nazareth will always be to remain salt and light to those around us, beacons of hope calling out for repentance and reconciliation with God; even if you find yourself in the heart of Christendom, this is not your home, our citizenship is in heaven.
Sunday, March 10, 2013
Sermon Video: Mary's Anointing of Jesus - John 12:1-8
As the time of Jesus' passion in Jerusalem nears, he visits friends in nearby Bethany: Lazarus, Martha, and Mary. In the previous chapter, Jesus had raised Lazarus from the dead, now he and his sisters hold a dinner in Jesus' honor. During the dinner Mary takes it upon herself to show her gratitude and love for Jesus by pouring a very expensive perfume on his feet and wiping them with her hair. This culturally risky decision is looked upon with derision by Jesus' disciples, but he chooses instead to praise Mary for her devotion. Why?
The answer lies not in a practical consideration of her actions; the perfume was indeed very expensive and this action can hardly be called anything but extravagant. Instead, Mary is commended for her willingness to go beyond the ordinary in order to worship Jesus. Her financial sacrifice and her risk of public shame (for letting her hair down in public) have brought comfort to Jesus and "prepared" him for his upcoming burial.
What value is this story to us? Mary's example teaches us to allow ourselves to worship God from the heart, boldly pushing past cultural pressures to embrace the prompting of the Holy Spirit. Whether that means a Catholic Mass, a Pentecostal shout of "Hallelujah” or something in between is up to you. Those who would follow Jesus must not only live a life of service to others, but also raise up their hearts in praise regardless of the form it takes. If Mary had listened to the voice of caution, or had worried about the cost, the opportunity to kiss the feet of the Son of God, her Messiah, would have been lost. Don't miss your chance to follow her example and worship God with all your heart.
To watch the video, click on the link below:
Sermon Video
Sunday, March 3, 2013
Sermon Video: "To obey is better than sacrifice" 1 Samuel 15:22
In this final message on the life of Samuel, the repeated failures of Saul push God to abandon his kingly line and seek another to take his place. At the heart of Saul's failure is a misunderstanding of who God is and a lack of faith. Three times Saul demonstrates that he thinks of God as if he were one of the gods of the surrounding nations by assuming that God will keep his promises only if a sacrifice is made first, and by offering to give God a "bribe" in order to justify partial obedience. In the end, the wisdom of Samuel proclaims to Saul that God cares more for obedience than he does sacrifice.
It is not our things that God wants, but our very minds, hearts, and souls. We must choose to fully obey the Word of God in faith and trust that God will keep his promises to us.
To watch the video, click on the link below:
Sermon Video
It is not our things that God wants, but our very minds, hearts, and souls. We must choose to fully obey the Word of God in faith and trust that God will keep his promises to us.
To watch the video, click on the link below:
Sermon Video
Wednesday, February 27, 2013
Caught between two worlds
One of the fascinating thing about study history is the chance to see patterns emerge that may lend insight into the world we live in today. I understand that not everything would think this to be exciting, but I often find that an example or illustration from the past works wonders in helping people understand the present.
As I continue to read through Diarmaid MacCulloch's Christianity: The First Three Thousand Years, one of the things that keeps popping up is the contrast and conflict between men and women in Church history who desired certainty (in theology, morality, cultural norms, etc.) and those who valued ambiguity. Sometimes the difference is one of personality; some people simply cannot abide ambiguity, they feel a deep need to categorize and label everything; others feel the opposite, being asked to take an either/or position makes them uncomfortable, it just feels wrong. On top of differences of personality we have cultural differences. Some cultures emphasize the need to take a stand, others value including multiple viewpoints.
Church history (and human history in general) has often been a case of two people who care about the same thing (on a host of different issues) not being able to see eye to eye because one is seeking certainty and the other is valuing ambiguity.
As you read this you may be thinking, "Of course we need certainty, only a Commie liberal would want that multi-cultural crap". Or perhaps the opposite, "What kind of fascist jerk would assume he has all the answers to everything!" That our politics often seems divided between similar viewpoints is no fluke. Western Civilization is a combination of the heritage of two cultures: The Greek world of Plato and Aristotle, and the Jewish world of Moses, Jesus, and Paul. The Greeks were forever seeking ultimate truth, unable to let an issue lie, they loved the constant questions necessary to peal away layers of uncertainty. The Jewish mind on the other hand, disdained those who claimed to know it all in favor of consensus, including every opinion and letting a majority decide things but always leaving the back door open in case a change of mind was necessary down the road. The very languages of which our Scriptures are comprised reflect that, the precision of Greek and the ambiguity of Hebrew shows itself in the very structure of the languages themselves.
As a result of our mix and match heritage, the Church (and Western Civilization) has always prized the search for ultimate Truth but at the same time has felt discomfort when we think we have found it. We crave unity of opinion, but know that we should leave room for those who don't fit in. We value diversity, but find ourselves hoping that all that diversity agrees with us. Is it any wonder that there are more Christian denominations in existence today than we can even keep track of, and yet at the same time we still long for a universal big "C" Church to stand above the fray.
My own intellectual experience reflects these tendencies. When I was younger I craved the neatness of certainty, but the more I learned and the more I experienced the more I came to realize that such textbook answers are rarely as cut and dried as people think. When I was younger I hesitated to extend the term "Christian" to peoples and groups with whom I saw little in common, but as time went by I began to see the underlying bond we share beneath the surface disagreements. In the end, I've come to a place where I can affirm ultimate Truth with confidence on the core issues of our faith (see I John, or better yet download and read my book for more on this topic) and yet remain open to the multiple of expressions of that faith that exist in the Church today.
Maybe you don't want to be caught between two worlds, maybe you want only one or the other, but I'm sorry to tell you that isn't an option. Everything we think, say, and do is a product of our common heritage, a heritage God intended to be born of two worlds, a Hebrew Old Testament and a Greek New Testament.
As I continue to read through Diarmaid MacCulloch's Christianity: The First Three Thousand Years, one of the things that keeps popping up is the contrast and conflict between men and women in Church history who desired certainty (in theology, morality, cultural norms, etc.) and those who valued ambiguity. Sometimes the difference is one of personality; some people simply cannot abide ambiguity, they feel a deep need to categorize and label everything; others feel the opposite, being asked to take an either/or position makes them uncomfortable, it just feels wrong. On top of differences of personality we have cultural differences. Some cultures emphasize the need to take a stand, others value including multiple viewpoints.
Church history (and human history in general) has often been a case of two people who care about the same thing (on a host of different issues) not being able to see eye to eye because one is seeking certainty and the other is valuing ambiguity.
As you read this you may be thinking, "Of course we need certainty, only a Commie liberal would want that multi-cultural crap". Or perhaps the opposite, "What kind of fascist jerk would assume he has all the answers to everything!" That our politics often seems divided between similar viewpoints is no fluke. Western Civilization is a combination of the heritage of two cultures: The Greek world of Plato and Aristotle, and the Jewish world of Moses, Jesus, and Paul. The Greeks were forever seeking ultimate truth, unable to let an issue lie, they loved the constant questions necessary to peal away layers of uncertainty. The Jewish mind on the other hand, disdained those who claimed to know it all in favor of consensus, including every opinion and letting a majority decide things but always leaving the back door open in case a change of mind was necessary down the road. The very languages of which our Scriptures are comprised reflect that, the precision of Greek and the ambiguity of Hebrew shows itself in the very structure of the languages themselves.
As a result of our mix and match heritage, the Church (and Western Civilization) has always prized the search for ultimate Truth but at the same time has felt discomfort when we think we have found it. We crave unity of opinion, but know that we should leave room for those who don't fit in. We value diversity, but find ourselves hoping that all that diversity agrees with us. Is it any wonder that there are more Christian denominations in existence today than we can even keep track of, and yet at the same time we still long for a universal big "C" Church to stand above the fray.
My own intellectual experience reflects these tendencies. When I was younger I craved the neatness of certainty, but the more I learned and the more I experienced the more I came to realize that such textbook answers are rarely as cut and dried as people think. When I was younger I hesitated to extend the term "Christian" to peoples and groups with whom I saw little in common, but as time went by I began to see the underlying bond we share beneath the surface disagreements. In the end, I've come to a place where I can affirm ultimate Truth with confidence on the core issues of our faith (see I John, or better yet download and read my book for more on this topic) and yet remain open to the multiple of expressions of that faith that exist in the Church today.
Maybe you don't want to be caught between two worlds, maybe you want only one or the other, but I'm sorry to tell you that isn't an option. Everything we think, say, and do is a product of our common heritage, a heritage God intended to be born of two worlds, a Hebrew Old Testament and a Greek New Testament.
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