Monthly Archives: May 2014

Solus Christus – In Christ Alone

Theology

Barmen Stamp

Eighty years ago, on May 31, 1934, some members of the German churches gathered in the city of Barmen to confess their faith. The German church was in a titanic struggle for its very existence as the new Nazi regime tightened its grip on every sector of German society.

Millions of Germans, humiliated and improverished by the Great War and its aftermath, longed for a new hope. Thousands of Christians wanted desperately to believe that Adolf Hitler represented God’s will for the nation, and so fell in line with his programme.

It is difficult for us to conceive how this was ever possible. It happened in part because Christians were not satisfied with Christ alone, but wanted another source of comfort and assurance beside Christ, and in addition to Christ. They wanted an earthly Führer (leader, guide) in addition to a heavenly Lord.

Anytime we seek our comfort and assurance in anything other than Christ, we are already in trouble. In 1930s Germany they sought it in a political leader. In our day people are more likely to seek comfort or significance in something pleasurable, thrilling or risky, perhaps something illicit or subversive.

Christians may seek it in success or achievement, a loving relationship, a worthy cause, a good reputation, or church activities. We convince ourselves that these are all good things and so must be God’s will.

This was the mistake of the German Christians: they mistook cultural values and priorities for the Word and will of God. The believers who gathered at Barmen, however, confessed Jesus Christ alone, and in so doing began at great cost, a movement of resistance against the Nazis:

“Jesus Christ, as he is attested for us in Holy Scripture, is the one Word of God which we have to hear and which we have to trust and obey in life and in death.”

Alongside Jesus Christ there can be no other Lord, no other ultimate or equivalent authority, claim or allegiance. Christ alone is our hope and our salvation, our comfort and assurance, our duty and our freedom. In him we believe and in him we rejoice; him we obey, and in him we are saved.

In Christ alone, our hope is found…

(Note: this article first appeared in The Advocate May 2014, Baptist Churches of Western Australia)

An Ethics of Presence & Virtue (Psalms 9-11) Pt 2

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Hands of hopeIn Sunday’s post I suggested that Psalms 9-11 generate a moral vision for the people of God. What, then, might this positive vision of life look like?

1)     It will be a life in community, the life of the people of God, rather than isolated individuals. Although David seems to stand alone against the wish of his interlocutors, David was not alone, and one can be sure that his leadership in this matter would stimulate a corresponding response in others. Further, the very psalms themselves testify to a community that kept this vision alive and embodied their hope.

2)     It will be a life deeply grounded in the knowledge of God and vision of hope that emerges from the Old and New Testaments. It is clear that the faith, hope and worldview that come to expression in these psalms is grounded in the revelation of God given in the scriptures of the Hebrew people.

3)     It will be life that finds expression in worship and praise, prayer and trust, faith and obedience, that is, in the acknowledgement of this God who is sovereign over all, who will judge the wicked and reward the righteous. The form of life called forth by these psalms will be grounded, nurtured and supported in this community of faithful worship and devotion. In particular, the community and those in it will pray as the psalmist prays, crying out for God to arise, praying Thy Kingdom come!

4)     It will be a life in which particular virtues are evident: we have already mentioned faith and hope. These in turn generate patience and courage. Patience refers to that steadfastness that waits for God’s action, which refuses to capitulate to despair, faithlessness or godlessness. It is the concrete expression of hope and is oriented toward that hope. The courage in these psalms springs from the faith-conviction that God reigns and will indeed establish his justice. Therefore the psalmist has courage to stay, despite personal threats and dangerous conditions.

Other virtues are evident in these psalms. If God loves justice his people will aspire to live justly. If God cares for the vulnerable and shelters the oppressed, so his people will learn to emulate God’s compassion for those suffering and afflicted by the conditions of the world. Over against the pride, greed and violence of the wicked, God’s people will value humility, contentment, gentleness and peace.

5)     It will be a life of presence in the midst of the society. Through faith, David stays. The community of God’s people will be present to the vulnerable and afflicted, ministering to them and in solidarity with them. They will also be present to the wicked as a testimony against their ways. In both cases they serve as a witness to the present and coming kingdom. They not only pray Thy Kingdom come! but live the ways of the kingdom in the midst of world.

In the early years of his career Karl Barth adopted the language of 2 Peter 3:12 as a watchword for his understanding of the nature of Christian life: “waiting for and hastening the coming day of God…” These psalms bear a similar testimony. The church fervently prays Arise O God, Thy Kingdom come! and therefore waits in anticipation of a new heavens and earth in which righteousness dwells. In the meantime, however, they hasten towards and bear witness to that coming kingdom by practicing righteousness here and now. They practice an ethic of resistance and non-participation with respect to the ways of “the nations” and instead live gently, humbly and generously in a world of violence, pride and greed. Theirs is a spirituality of faith, hope and love, and an ethics of presence and virtue, and all this in the community of God’s people.

An Ethics of Presence & Virtue (Psalms 9-11)

Scripture,

Hands of hopeAs I worked my way through the early chapters of the Psalms, it seemed to me that Psalms 9-11 had a different character to those which had preceded them. Certainly they retained common features of devotion, and a common theological stance, affirming the sovereignty of God and the necessity of human faithfulness and trust. Nevertheless, it seemed that they encouraged ethical reflection, providing a moral vision for how the people of God are to conduct their lives in the midst of a hostile environment.

Perhaps the editors of the Psalter intentionally placed these psalms after Psalm 8 in which humanity is portrayed in exalted terms, crowned with glory and honour. I noted, in my exposition of Psalm 9, that the theme of the psalm concerns humanity in its fallen state, humanity without God and against God, and so humanity that perpetrates injustice, violence and oppression. Thus the psalmist cries out that God would arise and establish his sovereignty, that he would judge the oppressor and remember the afflicted. In New Testament terms, it is as though the psalmist is praying, Thy Kingdom Come!

Psalm 10 continues this theme. It suggests that without God and without ‘spirit’ there will be no enduring justice or peace. The pride, greed and violence of the wicked emerges from a practical atheism which lives according to the dictum, “there is no God.” The psalm suggests that a godless secularity will always issue in a brutal world of violence, abuse and uncaring consumption. The man who is of the earth is one who brings terror into the lives of others. And so the dialogue partners in Psalm 11 plaintively ask, “If the foundations are destroyed, what can the righteous do?”

In the modern west we excel at doing. When threatening circumstances arise we want to do something. We like to react or respond, take charge and take control. We want to be busy, to enact building programmes and preventative strategies against the failing foundations and those who are destroying them. And to be fair, I would rather have a bias toward action than a craven passivity that fears to do anything.

Or perhaps the righteous should take the counsel of the psalmist’s dialogue partners: “Flee as a bird to your mountain!” Instead of taking charge, and instead of doing nothing, perhaps we should flee, seeking refuge in safe places, protecting and delivering ourselves from evil. Maybe we can relocate to safer suburbs and more pleasant environments. It may be possible to put a safe distance between ourselves and the spreading evil. Surely firmer and more enduring foundations are to be found elsewhere?

But David rejects the prescription of his advisors: “In the Lord I take refuge; how can you say to my soul, ‘Flee as bird to your mountain?’” Even in the face of threatening conditions and dangerous circumstances David is convinced that the Lord reigns, that God will ‘arise’ to judge the wicked and put an end to their evil. And so David trusts and David stays.

Together, these psalms commend an ethics of presence and virtue. That is, they provide the people of God with a vision of life and instruction for uncertain times. How should we live? What should we do? What is God’s will for us now, in these circumstances? The role of ethics is to help us find answers to these kinds of questions.

What, then, is the positive vision of life in these psalms for the people of God? First, the psalms present a vision of hope in the present and eschatological triumph of God. This in turn generates faith and trust, and so prayer, patience and courage. Second, the psalms present a picture of God’s character as one who is merciful and just, who favours the vulnerable and lowly, the oppressed and afflicted, and who stands against the violence and pride of the wicked. Third, the psalms hold forth the promise that God will indeed be a refuge and stronghold for his own people, and that they shall experience his protection and reward; the Lord loves righteousness and the righteous will behold his face. Finally, the psalms presuppose a faithful community, the community which preserves and sings these psalms and prays these prayers and remembers these promises and lives this hope.

What, then, might this positive vision of life look like? I will unpack this a little more in Tuesday’s post.

A Psalm for Sunday – Psalm 11

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bird-in-handRead Psalm 11

Although only seven short verses, this psalm speaks powerfully to those facing crises or danger, for it was written in response to some kind of threat and danger. “In the Lord I take refuge; How can you say to my soul, ‘Flee as a bird to your mountain’” (v. 1).

We cannot know who this person or these people are who counsel flight, although we get some reason as to why they do so in verses two and three: the very foundations of society are being destroyed, and the wicked seem to be in the ascendancy. Although they slink about in darkness, they are armed and ready to shoot at the upright and bring them down. It seems there is nothing the upright can do in these circumstances except flee. Perhaps the counsel to flee comes from those concerned for the welfare of the psalmist. Perhaps it comes as a cynical admonition from those who sneer at his faith and think his defeat is imminent and irreversible. Either way, it is the counsel of despair: “Give up! Flee! Take cover! Save yourself; run for your life; seek safety elsewhere and let the city go to the dogs: there is nothing you can do.”

This is precisely what the psalmist refuses to do: “In the Lord I take refuge.” This bold statement recalls the promise of 2:12 that those who seek refuge in the Lord shall be blessed, even if the nations rage, and the “man of the earth” continues to enact terror (10:18).

What can the psalmist see that his counsellors cannot? “The Lord is in his holy temple; the Lord’s throne is in heaven” (v. 4). The psalmist is convinced that God is still on the throne, that God reigns, and so the events of earth are not beyond divine sovereignty and providence. God is neither absent nor uninvolved, but tests humanity, weighing the deeds both of the righteous and the wicked. Further, the psalmist believes that God exercises judgement, punishing the wicked and rewarding the righteous (vv. 6-7). This judgement is  still future for the psalmist, but it is not necessarily eschatological (a judgement beyond the grave), but may in fact be historical. The wicked will in this life get their “just deserts,” while the righteous will receive God’s favour and be vindicated (cf. Craigie). It is possible, however, that the final phrase of the psalm, “the upright will behold his face,” may be understood in terms of the beatific vision promised to God’s people in the New Testament (see, for example, Revelation 22: 4).Archer

Ultimately, then, the psalmist’s confidence is based upon faith. He trusts God because he trusts that the reality of God is more sure and more certain than the disintegrating chaos that surrounds him. This faith has several crucial aspects, which reflect the theological worldview of the ancient Hebrew people:

  1. First, God is utterly supreme, the transcendent ruler, lord and judge of all humanity;
  2. This God is moral, dwelling in his holy temple; he loves righteousness and so hates the one who loves violence (v. 5). The moral nature of God undergirds his activity as judge;
  3. In contrast to God, humanity is morally corrupt, and remains accountable to God who tests all people (vv. 4-5). Yet the possibility of being found among the righteous remains, and those who trust in God and practise righteousness will find that they are sheltered by God, and will “see” God’s face (v. 7);
  4. Judgement is certain, and there is a firm hope that ultimately, justice will be done, with the righteous being vindicated and blessed;
  5. How did the ancient Israelites know all this? By a conviction that this God had revealed himself to Israel throughout her history, and had called Israel into a covenant relationship with God. This knowledge and hope, assurance, courage, and moral vision are grounded in God’s revelation of himself and his will to his elect people.

The central question of the psalm is that put to the psalmist in verse three: if the foundations are destroyed, what can the righteous do? The psalmist seems to ignore the question, and instead directs his attention to the Lord who is in his holy temple (v. 4). Craigie (133) notes that this hints at the immanence of God: God is not simply transcendent and sovereignly powerful, but also present to comfort, help and support. There is no dualism here, no division of heaven and earth into separate compartments and spheres of rule. God’s throne is in heaven; God dwells in his temple. The same God is lord over all things, sovereignly powerful and yet close enough to shelter those who trust in him.

But is the psalmist evading the question? Perhaps not. For the psalmist, the Lord himself is the true foundation, the only foundation, an indestructible foundation upon which he can build his life and in whom he can trust. Social and cultural foundations may falter, people fail, institutions fade, and civilisations fall, but God remains steadfast. God himself and God alone is our only foundation—an unseen and intangible foundation, but no less real for all that.

What can the righteous do? They can do what the psalmist did: trust more deeply in God, and refuse to abandon their post. If we assume Davidic authorship of the psalm, we find here a leadership that refuses to capitulate in the face of desperate crisis. We find here a righteousness that refuses to hand over the city  to the wicked. We find here a profound vision of faith in the sovereign goodness, presence and power of God—the true foundation upon which a life, a leader, and a city may be built. David stays because David trusts.

Does Grace Transform Us?

Theology, ,

graceThe third question my friend asked was:

Does grace transform us, or is that wishful thinking?

The apostle Peter refers to the manifold or ‘many-coloured’ grace of God (1 Peter 4:10). The New Testament speaks of grace in many different ways. In this interview we have been mainly concerned about grace in terms of God’s favour, forgiveness and acceptance. But grace speaks of God’s empowerment as well as God’s pardon. The apostle Paul is an outstanding example of the transformative power of grace:

 For I am the least of the apostles, who am not worthy to be called an apostle, because I persecuted the church of God. But by the grace of God I am what I am, and His grace toward me was not in vain; but I laboured more abundantly than they all, yet not I, but the grace of God which was with me (1 Corinthians 15:9-10).

By his own account Paul had been a blasphemous, violent and insolent man but having received God’s mercy and grace, was to be a pattern for all believers (1 Timothy 1:12-16).

The gracious activity of God toward us does not cease with his pardon, but the Holy Spirit is ‘God’s empowering presence’ (Gordon Fee’s name for the Holy Spirit) given to us to sanctify and transform our lives into the image of Jesus (2 Corinthians 3:17-18). This, too, is grace, God accomplishing for us and in us what we cannot accomplish for ourselves and in our own strength.

Truly receiving the grace of God opens our eyes to God’s amazing acceptance of us in spite of our own failures and sin. Grace humbles us in the presence of God, and results in an overwhelming gratitude toward God which then begins to overflow toward others. If our own wrong does not disqualify us, surely the wrongs of others should not disqualify them. The Holy Spirit gently leads us to respond to God’s grace by showing grace and living graciously towards others. He prompts us to forgive, even those who have most hurt us. He opens our heart to welcome others. He reminds us that ‘there, but for the grace of God, go I.’ He reminds us that grace has interrupted our path and changed our course; grace can interrupt and change the course of others. God may even us as a vessel and channel of his grace. Thus grace is not only a gift but a calling and a responsibility.

Notice that Paul, in his statement about grace, also says that he laboured, so that God’s grace would not be given in vain. This is the crucial key about the transformative power of grace: grace calls for human response. God works within us to both to will and to do his good pleasure, and so by his grace we are empowered to work out our salvation (Philippians 2:12-13). Grace always comes first, but God does not work without us. His work elicits and empowers our responsive and cooperative work. Grace makes us co-labourers with God, and so Paul says, ‘We then, as workers together with Him, also plead with you not to receive the grace of God in vain’ (2 Corinthians 6:1).

The promise of transformation is not wishful thinking but neither does grace function like Tinkerbell’s fairy dust. Eugene Peterson has given us a most useful metaphor for understanding the work of grace: water. Water is essential for life, a life-giving and transformative substance. Yet if we were to pass our hands through water it would run through our fingers and escape. We cannot hold or contain it. We know it is too weak to hold us, and we cannot hold it. Nevertheless, if we can learn to relax in it, and like a swimmer to begin to make a series of strokes—simple repetitive actions—we will find that the water miraculously holds us and we begin to make progress. We are not holding the water; it is holding us.[1]

Peterson’s analogy helps us understand the mysterious interplay between grace and works, between God’s will and our will. Transformation is not our work but God’s work in us. Yet it does not occur without our participation. Our simple repetitive actions—spiritual practices and habits such as participating in congregational life and worship, reading Scripture and learning to pray, humble service and generous kindness—become a means of grace by which the Holy Spirit works transformation more deeply into our being. This is how we ‘grow in grace’ (2 Peter 3:18) and become ‘strong in grace’ (2 Timothy 2:1). This is how grace becomes a fruitful and transformative power in our lives. This is the kind of response that does not ‘receive the grace of God in vain.’

Ultimately transformation is about becoming more genuinely and authentically human; that is, becoming more Christlike, for Jesus Christ is both the image of God and the truly human person. This is grace reaching its goal. We begin by grace, continue by grace, and reach the goal by grace. ‘Grace has brought us safe this far, grace will lead us home.’


[1] See Peterson, Eugene H., Practice Resurrection: A Conversation on Growing Up in Christ (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2010), 94-95.

A Psalm for Sunday – Psalm 10

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Read Psalm 10

Last week we noted that this psalm is very possibly a continuation of Psalm 9 and perhaps the two were originally one psalm. Certainly there are a number of common themes between the two psalms. The psalm begins with a complaint that echoes the age-old mystery of God’s absence or hiddenness in the face of ever-present evil. “Why do you stand afar off, O Lord? Why do you hide yourself in times of trouble?” (v. 1). Perhaps everyone who has ever trusted in God has had occasion to ask this question. Where is God when things go wrong? Furthermore, the psalm gives no answer to this devastating question, although it does have a response.

The psalmist’s question highlights the dilemma of the person who trusts in God’s universal sovereignty yet sees that sovereignty denied in the reality of earthly affairs. Instead of divine sovereignty, justice and peace, the wicked prosper in their pursuits, and it seems there is no one to hinder their oppression of the vulnerable.

In verses 2-11 the pride, greed and violence of the wicked are portrayed. At the base of their wickedness lies godlessness (vv. 3-4), a practical atheism which lives according to the dictum, “there is no God.” The apparent silence and hiddenness of God has caused the wicked to cast off the remembrance of God and to live as though there is no God. God’s judgements are ‘out of sight, out of mind’ as far as the wicked are concerned (v. 5), and so their mouth is full of cursing and oppression, and their activity is violent and oppressive. The psalmist portrays them as a lion lying in wait to catch its prey, who are described as innocent, unfortunate and afflicted (vv. 8-9).

Verse 12 echoes 9:19: “Arise, O Lord!” This verse, together with verse 15, constitute the primary petition of the psalm. The psalmist calls upon God to “lift up your hand…break the arm of the wicked and the evildoer.” He prays that the wicked would have no more power to afflict, and indeed, that God would so act, that the wicked would be uprooted from the world until there are ‘no more.’ The psalmist implores God to act so that the wicked would no longer think that they will not be brought to account. He implores God to act also on account of the afflicted who depend upon God to be their deliverer and helper.

The psalm finds its climax in verses 16-18 where the psalmist proclaims that the Lord is king forever. The Lord has not abdicated his authority, nor is his sovereignty annulled. He has seen the oppression of the wicked and heard the cry of the afflicted. The Lord will act to judge on behalf of the oppressed.

As in Psalm 9, the psalmist’s hope is that God will arise to defend the cause of the needy and judge the oppressor. In both psalms God’s kingdom is eternal, and his eternal reign is set in contrast to the ephemeral existence of humanity. In both psalms, the longing for justice takes the form of eschatological hope.

Of particular interest in this psalm is the final line (cf. 9:19-20): ‘So that man who is of the earth will no longer cause terror.’ This evocative image suggests an orientation which is often celebrated today; that is, the one who is grounded, earthy, ecologically sensitive, natural and strong. In the psalm, however, it designates something rather different, the kind of secularity for which there is no spirit, no God, no life hereafter, but simply the here and now, bodies and desires, and the will to power.

The psalm is a critique of this kind of life-vision. It suggests that without God and without spirit there will be no enduring justice or peace. It suggests that a godless secularity will issue in a brutal world of violence, abuse and uncaring consumption. The man who is of the earth is one who brings terror into the lives of others.

How valid is this claim? For many today, the origin of terror is precisely those who ‘imagine’ a god: religion is seen as a—if not the—major source of terror, violence and injustice in the world. This assertion is not without some substance, though it is often overstated. Religious zeal has not uncommonly become an oppressive and even terrifying power in the world. To the extent that this is so, it is a ‘religion that is of the earth,’ no matter how exalted its claims, or exuberant its worship.

What is needed is ‘man’ who is not of the earth. This, of course, is the message of the gospel: Jesus Christ is the new ‘man,’ the beginning of a new humanity. The virgin birth of Christ signifies a new beginning, a creative act of God which will ultimately issue in a new creation, a new heavens and a new earth. Those who are in Christ are called to be this new humanity, a people who pray and cry out to God in the face of human injustice and oppression, and who dare to live according to a new vision of justice and peace in communities of hope and care. Such a community insists that might is not right, and so stands against the evil that is in the world, and stands with the afflicted, because it stands in hope of God’s eschatological kingdom: Thy Kingdom come!

Does Everyone Need Grace?

Theology

graceThe second question my friend asked me about grace was:

Is it excessive to suggest that all need grace? After all, some people seem to be genuinely nice.

Some people are genuinely nice and moral. Often, though not always, they have had the benefit of being raised in homes which practice civility, courtesy and consideration. Sometimes, though, they have learned these things through their own dedication to a better way of living than they experienced at home. Sometimes they have learned this way of life from bitter experience of the opposite. Sometimes they are nice because they have found that it works for them, and so they have adopted being nice as their manner of living and life philosophy.

Do such people really need grace, especially when they already seem so gracious or grace-full? If what we have said in the previous question is actually true, then yes, even nice people need grace. The idea that some of us are so inherently good and kind and nice that we do not require grace comes from an overly optimistic self-assessment, and an under-appreciation of the impact, penetration and depth of sin in our own lives.

Too many times we measure ourselves against others who we consider to be real sinners, bad people whose abhorrent behaviour is so evident and obvious, we can only be glad that we are not like them! This kind of attitude goes hand-in-hand with the notion of identifying sin with specific external acts, so that as long as we are not guilty of those particular acts, we are not really sinners.

The reality, however, is not so pretty. Sin, in its biblical portrayal, is not simply external, nor simply our actions, nor simply that which characterises other people. Its roots and manifestations are far deeper, more pervasive and universal than we care to believe. At root, sin is our determination to live independently of God, to live in accordance with our own desire, to establish our own worth and goodness, and to justify ourselves in the face of all contrary claim or allegation.

Even the most religious, most moral and most altruistic person can be deeply sinful and in need of a relationship restored to God. We now know that some people wear their religion as a cloak of respectability covering a cesspool of the most wicked intentions and behaviour. Even the genuinely altruistic person can still harbour a desire for recognition or acknowledgement, or an attitude of condescension towards those who choose a different path of life.

Jesus Christ is the measure of true humanity in the image of God (see Genesis 1:26-27; Colossians 1:15). If instead of comparing ourselves with others, we would compare ourselves with Jesus Christ, with the standard of love and holiness displayed in his life, we would very soon become dismayed at the superficial nature of our own love, and the evident distortion of humanity in our own lives.

When we ponder our own hearts we very quickly discover a quagmire of the most unlovely and disreputable feelings, motivations, intentions, commitments and attitudes. Many centuries ago the word of the Lord came to a Hebrew prophet saying,

The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked; who can know it? I, the Lord, search the heart and I test the mind, to give to every person according to their ways, and according to the fruit of their doings (Jeremiah 17:9-10).

When Jeremiah heard this he cried out, ‘Heal me, O Lord, and I shall be healed; Save me, and I shall be saved!’ (v. 14). In our heart of hearts we are aware that we do not even live up to our own standards let alone those of others and most especially, those which God requires. We are quick to excuse ourselves our misdemeanours, while holding others accountable for theirs. We shake our heads in disgust at others’ behaviour while justifying our own. We are wont to judge others harshly and ourselves lightly.

All these are indicators of the penetration, presence and power of sin in our lives, sin which alienates us from God and renders us culpable before the blinding, blazing light of his holiness. How desperately we need grace! How desperately we are dependent upon grace rather than justice. If God were to deal with us in bare justice we would have nowhere to stand and nowhere to hide. But God turns toward us in utter condescension, giving himself to us, making peace through the blood of the cross of Christ (Colossians 1:20), and calling us into fellowship with himself; and all this in spite of our sin and our inherent opposition to his sovereignty and love. This, indeed, is grace.