I think one of the signs you're growing as a Christian is that your duties become your joys. You have to read the Bible, but, hey we get to read the Bible! We have to go to church, but guess what, it's Sunday, we get to go to church today! We have to get baptised, but yes! I get to be baptized, and identify with Christ and His people.
Duties slowly become joys. I'll be honest, i'm never excited when my alarm goes off at 515 four or five days a week. But marrying a teacher means early mornings and long days, and if i don't start in the Word, i'll never get there. So i get up, stumble to the coffee machine, locate my Bible, and the Valley of Vision, and off i go. I have to get up before dawn and read the Bible, but i get to wake up before dawn and read the Bible. A Christian duty becomes a delightful joy. The back yard is dark, the house is quiet, and God is speaking.
And when God speaks; life!
God speaks in Genesis 1, and there's life. God speaks and there are trees, and fruit, and seas teeming with fish, and Adam and Eve. And it's good. try it for yourself, try speaking out and creating life. I just did, it didn't work. But God speaks, and it does! Isaiah tells us that God's Word is like rain falling to the ground. It waters the crops and they grow. Life!
In Luke 7:11-17 Jesus is walking to Nain, and He passes a funeral procession. The boy is dead, the mother is wailing, the Nain City Nuggets Major League Mourning team are turning in an all-pro performance. But God is about to speak. 'Young man, i say to you, arise.' And he does. Because God spoke, and there was life. The mother rejoiced, the Nuggets trudged off the field, last minute winner- probably offside.
(As an aside, this is another one in the eye for people who tell us that 'Jesus never claimed to be God.' Jesus hardly did any else but claim He was God.)
And onto 2 Corinthians 4:4-6. What happened when we got saved? God turned the light on and we saw Christ. We saw Him, not as a 'good teacher,' not as an irrelevance, but as God Himself. The lights came on, and we worshiped. Just like 'in the beginning.' We see the glory of God in Christ. As we read the Gospel, the letters, the prophets, the history, we see God's glory in Christ.
We have to, and we get to. It's a duty and a joy. We have to because in the cultural wasteland of post Christian America, it's the only we to survive. We get to, because we meet a loving God, who would feed us with the finest of wheat, and honey from the rock.
Showing posts with label Luke. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Luke. Show all posts
Friday, 11 April 2014
Thursday, 12 December 2013
Cover Me
A few weeks ago, some rogue motorist swerved down my street, and collected our mailbox on his way. He knocked the door off, and the handy yellow flag that told us if we had any mail that day. Eventually, i've got to go and buy a new mail box to replace the old one. It has to be a mailbox, i can't put a microwave there, or a bowl of soup. Mailbox for mailbox.
Likewise, if the lady driving the car who hit our mailbox showed up at my door to replace it, she'd need to give me a new one, or at least, a decent replacement. A picture of a mailbox won't do, neither will a new sweater or a pair of scissors. Mailbox for mail box.
We see this idea all the way though the Bible. God told Adam and Eve that a life would be taken if they ate the fruit of the tree, and so it was, although we like to think that God was making a coat to keep them warm, He was shedding blood to pay for sin. The Old Testament sacrificial system depended on and illustrated this idea every day. There had been sin, there must be death. On the Day of Atonement some estimate that over three hundred thousand animals died. The Brook Kidron ran red, the Priests were covered and the mercy seat stained with the blood that paid for sins.
Hebrews 9:22 puts it bluntly, 'without the shedding of blood, there is no forgiveness of sins.' Life for life, death for sin. It's always been this way, and we understand why. Mailbox for mailbox, life for life. But come on, we now that a goat can't pay for the sins of a man. So a man came, the lamb of God, the final lamb, making a satisfying sacrifice, finally giving God and man justice for sins, finally paying the price, finally cleaning our consciences.
We ask this man for mercy, we ask Him to cover us. That's what's going on at the end of Luke 18. The tax collector stands far off beating his chest, and says 'Lord, cover me, a sinner.' Cover me, have mercy on me. Cover me with the blood of a substitute. Just like Moses did in Exodus 24:5-6. An animal was killed, half it's blood poured in the basin, the other half sprinkled on the people. They were covered with the blood of the substitute. Sin brings death, life for life.
Have mercy on me, cover me with the blood of a substitute, pass over me.
The longer i'm a Christian, and the more i see the dark recesses of my own heart, the more precious this becomes. The world needs a God angered by sin, but the world also needs God. Jesus has dealt with that huge problem, He has died, a life for a life, and His blood covers us. If you try to live with Christ primarily as your example, not your substitute, it's like living in a house with no foundations, you're just not safe. Come to Christ instead, and be covered with His blood.
Likewise, if the lady driving the car who hit our mailbox showed up at my door to replace it, she'd need to give me a new one, or at least, a decent replacement. A picture of a mailbox won't do, neither will a new sweater or a pair of scissors. Mailbox for mail box.
We see this idea all the way though the Bible. God told Adam and Eve that a life would be taken if they ate the fruit of the tree, and so it was, although we like to think that God was making a coat to keep them warm, He was shedding blood to pay for sin. The Old Testament sacrificial system depended on and illustrated this idea every day. There had been sin, there must be death. On the Day of Atonement some estimate that over three hundred thousand animals died. The Brook Kidron ran red, the Priests were covered and the mercy seat stained with the blood that paid for sins.
Hebrews 9:22 puts it bluntly, 'without the shedding of blood, there is no forgiveness of sins.' Life for life, death for sin. It's always been this way, and we understand why. Mailbox for mailbox, life for life. But come on, we now that a goat can't pay for the sins of a man. So a man came, the lamb of God, the final lamb, making a satisfying sacrifice, finally giving God and man justice for sins, finally paying the price, finally cleaning our consciences.
We ask this man for mercy, we ask Him to cover us. That's what's going on at the end of Luke 18. The tax collector stands far off beating his chest, and says 'Lord, cover me, a sinner.' Cover me, have mercy on me. Cover me with the blood of a substitute. Just like Moses did in Exodus 24:5-6. An animal was killed, half it's blood poured in the basin, the other half sprinkled on the people. They were covered with the blood of the substitute. Sin brings death, life for life.
Have mercy on me, cover me with the blood of a substitute, pass over me.
The longer i'm a Christian, and the more i see the dark recesses of my own heart, the more precious this becomes. The world needs a God angered by sin, but the world also needs God. Jesus has dealt with that huge problem, He has died, a life for a life, and His blood covers us. If you try to live with Christ primarily as your example, not your substitute, it's like living in a house with no foundations, you're just not safe. Come to Christ instead, and be covered with His blood.
Wednesday, 24 July 2013
The God Who Comes Out
Last week i blogged about the parable of the prodigal son, and one of the phrases that grabbed my attention the the most was 'when he came to himself.' Sin makes us somehow less than ourselves, it makes us inhuman, but Jesus restores us.
The second phrase, or half-verse that really strikes me is verse 28b, 'his father came out and entreated him.' Whats going here? Well the prodigal son is home and the father is rejoicing. He's given him new shoes, new clothes, a new ring, he's killed the prize animal on the farm for him. But he's just heard some bad news.
'Joseph won't come in.'
'Joseph won't come in?'
'He won't come in sir.'
The older brother, still harboring resentment in his heart about his siblings theft and irresponsibility has come home from a hard day working in the field. By the sweat of his brow his determined to impress his father. His father, who had never given him so much as a young goat that he might celebrate with his friends. Maybe this would be the evening, maybe this would be the weekend. And then the sounds of songs waft towards him on the warm evening air, he sees dancing, what in the world is going on.
'Your brother's home, your father's celebrating.'
He can hardly believe what he's hearing. A hundred times he's played this out in his mind, his brother slinking home, put to work and made to pay back every penny he cost the family. That thought kept Joe going on the hard days where he had to pull double time just to stay above water. But now? It's like his father's lost his mind. Joseph isn't going in.
What does the father do? Send a servant? No, he comes himself. He leaves the crowds, the comfort and the joy, and comes and sits in the dust next to his older son. The father is the victim of a rant. I can't believe you're treating him like this, i can't believe he's getting a better deal than i am. I always obey, i always work hard, and i have nothing. Imagine the temptation of the father here. You always obey? well obey this: get inside. But no. He loves him, he talks to him, he reasons with him.
He goes outside.
The older son doesn't understand his father. he doesn't understand that, by birth, everything that is his dads is also his. He doesn't even understand this when he comes and sits on the ground next to him.
I wonder if we understand. Do we base our relationship with God on our work, or on Jesus work? Do we know that we have a God who comes out, or do we think of God as locked away in his study, waiting to be impressed. Remember who is listening to Jesus? The scribes and pharisees, grumbling that Jesus is talking and eating with sinners.
Friends, Jesus comes out to sinners! To you and me. He comes to get us, comes to invite us in, comes to share the fattened calf with Him. He doesn't want our slaving, He wants us. To misunderstand this is to be consigned to a life time of misery and uncertainty. Stop trying so hard, and come and enjoy everything that Jesus won for you. Everything that's mine is yours.
The second phrase, or half-verse that really strikes me is verse 28b, 'his father came out and entreated him.' Whats going here? Well the prodigal son is home and the father is rejoicing. He's given him new shoes, new clothes, a new ring, he's killed the prize animal on the farm for him. But he's just heard some bad news.
'Joseph won't come in.'
'Joseph won't come in?'
'He won't come in sir.'
The older brother, still harboring resentment in his heart about his siblings theft and irresponsibility has come home from a hard day working in the field. By the sweat of his brow his determined to impress his father. His father, who had never given him so much as a young goat that he might celebrate with his friends. Maybe this would be the evening, maybe this would be the weekend. And then the sounds of songs waft towards him on the warm evening air, he sees dancing, what in the world is going on.
'Your brother's home, your father's celebrating.'
He can hardly believe what he's hearing. A hundred times he's played this out in his mind, his brother slinking home, put to work and made to pay back every penny he cost the family. That thought kept Joe going on the hard days where he had to pull double time just to stay above water. But now? It's like his father's lost his mind. Joseph isn't going in.
What does the father do? Send a servant? No, he comes himself. He leaves the crowds, the comfort and the joy, and comes and sits in the dust next to his older son. The father is the victim of a rant. I can't believe you're treating him like this, i can't believe he's getting a better deal than i am. I always obey, i always work hard, and i have nothing. Imagine the temptation of the father here. You always obey? well obey this: get inside. But no. He loves him, he talks to him, he reasons with him.
He goes outside.
The older son doesn't understand his father. he doesn't understand that, by birth, everything that is his dads is also his. He doesn't even understand this when he comes and sits on the ground next to him.
I wonder if we understand. Do we base our relationship with God on our work, or on Jesus work? Do we know that we have a God who comes out, or do we think of God as locked away in his study, waiting to be impressed. Remember who is listening to Jesus? The scribes and pharisees, grumbling that Jesus is talking and eating with sinners.
Friends, Jesus comes out to sinners! To you and me. He comes to get us, comes to invite us in, comes to share the fattened calf with Him. He doesn't want our slaving, He wants us. To misunderstand this is to be consigned to a life time of misery and uncertainty. Stop trying so hard, and come and enjoy everything that Jesus won for you. Everything that's mine is yours.
Friday, 19 July 2013
He Came To Himself
I love the story of the prodigal son that Jesus tells in Luke 15, don't you? I love it's subtleties, who was Jesus talking to, and why does it matter? I love it's details, why does Jesus tell us the father ran, and kissed and put a ring on the finger and new shoes on the feet of his son? I love the way it subverts our expectations, i love that verse 25 does say, as you might expect, 'for i tell you, there is more joy in Heaven...'
There's been one phrase in this parable that has been lodged in my head for the last few days. In verse 17 Jesus tells us that the younger son 'came to himself,' and this started his journey home. You know the story of this young man. He asks his dad to pretend he's dead so he can go off and live the high life in the big city. He spares no expense while he's there. The King James tells us that he 'devoured (his fathers) living with harlots.' No expense was spared for this young man, he ran headlong into his new life.
And then famine. And then his new friends disappeared, there was a new show in town perhaps, or maybe they were more interested in food than parties. The young man, his clothes in rags, ends up feeding pigs. You can almost hear Jesus pharisaical audience shifting uncomfortably at this point. Pigs?! And he's feeding them?!
This is where sin leads us and leaves us. Deserted by friends. Cut off from family. Clothes in rags. Dreams in tatters. Feeding pigs, being jealous of pigs even. We throw ourselves into sin, we thirst for it, we leave our lives, our selves behind for it, blinded by it's promises. It uses us then abandons us, it promises us life, but cuts us off from the source of life.
But then we come to ourselves. We realise that it's only in communion with Jesus that we are who we are supposed to be. We're a key in it's lock, a hand in a bespoke glove. We're not limited by God, we're set free. This is what the younger son realised, surrounded by well fed pigs, wearing tattered clothes and beaten up shoes. I'm supposed to by my father's on, he realises. I'll come to myself, and go back to him,
And that's what we need to realise. Jesus made us for Himself, and we are restless, jealous of pigs even, until we find ourselves in Him. The Bible does just help us fight sin by telling us that sin is wicked, and evil, and painful, and destructive, but that Jesus is better. That when we come to Him, we come to ourselves. We don't lose our identity, we find it, and redeem it, and reclaim it, and live it forever.
There's been one phrase in this parable that has been lodged in my head for the last few days. In verse 17 Jesus tells us that the younger son 'came to himself,' and this started his journey home. You know the story of this young man. He asks his dad to pretend he's dead so he can go off and live the high life in the big city. He spares no expense while he's there. The King James tells us that he 'devoured (his fathers) living with harlots.' No expense was spared for this young man, he ran headlong into his new life.
And then famine. And then his new friends disappeared, there was a new show in town perhaps, or maybe they were more interested in food than parties. The young man, his clothes in rags, ends up feeding pigs. You can almost hear Jesus pharisaical audience shifting uncomfortably at this point. Pigs?! And he's feeding them?!
This is where sin leads us and leaves us. Deserted by friends. Cut off from family. Clothes in rags. Dreams in tatters. Feeding pigs, being jealous of pigs even. We throw ourselves into sin, we thirst for it, we leave our lives, our selves behind for it, blinded by it's promises. It uses us then abandons us, it promises us life, but cuts us off from the source of life.
But then we come to ourselves. We realise that it's only in communion with Jesus that we are who we are supposed to be. We're a key in it's lock, a hand in a bespoke glove. We're not limited by God, we're set free. This is what the younger son realised, surrounded by well fed pigs, wearing tattered clothes and beaten up shoes. I'm supposed to by my father's on, he realises. I'll come to myself, and go back to him,
And that's what we need to realise. Jesus made us for Himself, and we are restless, jealous of pigs even, until we find ourselves in Him. The Bible does just help us fight sin by telling us that sin is wicked, and evil, and painful, and destructive, but that Jesus is better. That when we come to Him, we come to ourselves. We don't lose our identity, we find it, and redeem it, and reclaim it, and live it forever.
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