Reflections before Easter

This is a surreal weekend. Yesterday was Good Friday and the thoughts of a suffering Messiah still linger inside me. I took a few minutes to think about weight of Christ’s death on the cross. I kept coming back to Philippians 2 for a picture of the incredible humility of Jesus, “who, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross” (Philippians 2:6-8).

At the core of the Christian faith is the story of Jesus, God who entered the human story as one of us, and at the same time fully divine. He lived among us. Worked beside us. Was tempted the same as us. He was God in the flesh, humble to the point of being crucified. Jesus came to die. He didn’t come to merely teach, or even to show us what sacrifice looks like, he came to be sacrificed. I appreciate how Thomas Oden in Classic Christianity describes this, “He [Jesus] did not come to teach about the cross, but to be nailed to it. He came that there might be a gospel to preach.” Jesus did not die to merely teach us about dying for others. He came to embody the atonement. It is as if God, through the cross, communicates to us, “This, this horrible death, this murder and betrayal I endured, this is how much I love you.” It is a demonstration of the seriousness and terrible cost of our sin, God’s holiness, and it is an expression of the extent of God’s love for the world.

The cross is bloody, and brutal, and terrible, and the horrors suffered upon it were excruciating. Without the cross there is no Christianity. Without the cross, there is no atonement. God’s holiness prompts the expression of love and sacrifice seen on the cross.

I quote Oden once more, “Sin dug a gulf in a relationship. The cross bridged it. Sin resulted in estrangement. The cross reconciled it. Sin made war. The cross made peace. Sin broke fellowship. The cross repaired and restored it.”

Before celebrating the resurrection, I find myself drawn to the horrific and bloody cross of Jesus. I am humbled, in awe, and grateful forevermore, even if my words lack the capacity to express it.

A picture painted by Clement of Rome

I’m continuing to read the early church fathers, and this week I read some Clement of Rome. The following chapter is one of the more beautiful I came across in Clement’s Epistle to the Corinthians. It feels like it could have come right out of the book of Psalms, or maybe Job. It paints a tremendous picture of God as Creator and sovereign over creation. I love reading passages like this. They are big. They are bold and powerful. They show God as the One who reigns supreme over His creation, and to think the same God saved me, loves me, and calls me one of His own is humbling. Chapter 20 of his Epistle to the Corinthians:

The heavens revolve by His arrangement and are subject to Him in peace. Day and night complete the revolution ordained by Him, and neither interferes in the least with the other. Sun and moon and the starry choirs, obedient to His arrangement, roll on in harmony, without any deviation, through their appointed orbits. The earth bears fruit according to His will in its proper seasons, and yields the full amount of food required for men and beasts and all the living things on it, neither wavering nor altering any of His decrees. The unsearchable decisions that govern the abysses and the inscrutable decisions that govern the deeps are maintained by the same decrees. The basin of the boundless sea, firmly built by His creative act for the collection of the waters, does not burst the barriers set up all around it, and does precisely what has been assigned to it. For He said: Thus far shalt though come, and thy billows shall be turned to spray within thee. The ocean, impassable for men, and the worlds beyond it are governed by the same decrees of the Master. The seasons–spring, summer, autumn, and winter–make room for one another in peaceful succession. The stations of the winds at the proper time render their service without disturbance. Ever-flowing springs, created for enjoyment and for health, without fail offer to men their life-sustaining breasts. The smallest of the animals meet in peaceful harmony. All these creatures the mighty Creator and Master of the universe ordained to act in peace and concord, thus benefitting the universe, but most abundantly ourselves who have taken refuge under His mercies through our Lord Jesus Christ; to whom be the glory and majesty forever and evermore. Amen.

Clement of Rome, Epistle to the Corinthians (Ch. 20) 

Jerry Walls: What’s Wrong With Calvinism

Dr. Jerry Walls recently lectured at Evangel University on Calvinism. It’s a solid presentation of the issues Arminians generally have with a Calvinistic soteriology. If you’re an Arminian, you’ll like it. If you’re a Calvinist, you should probably watch something other than other Calvinists talk about Calvinism, so have a watch:

Where the Shepherd is

In an effort to make good on #7 of my Theological 13 for 2013, I’ve been reading St. Ignatius of Antioch. I don’t have much to add to the below passage (except that the translator makes St. Ignatius sound like Yoda at times, no complaints here), so I’ll let Ignatius do my talking :

Being born, then, of the light of truth, shun division and bad doctrines. Where the Shepherd is, there you, being sheep, must follow. For, many wolves there are, apparently worthy of confidence, who with the bait of baneful pleasure seek to capture the runners in God’s race; but if you stand united, they will have no success.

-Ignatius of Antioch, Ignatius to the Philadelphians 2:1-2

God helps those who cannot help themselves

Time for a mini rant. I never cared much for the old phrase, “God helps those who help themselves.” Growing up it usually meant, “Have a problem? Quit complaining and do something about it!” I understand that. And that’s fair motivation. But my recent beef with the phrase is theological, not motivational. My beef with the phrase is that it flies in the face of grace.

Without God’s grace, I would be a dead man walking. Paul wrote in Ephesians that I was dead in my sin (Ephesians 2:1), and my salvation is due to God’s grace and mercy (Ephesians 5:5). I’m saved by grace through faith, and not because of any good deed or work (Ephesians 2:8-9). If somehow I could have saved myself, then Christ’s death would have been pointless (Galatians 2:21).

God does not help me because I can help myself (not that I could, I was dead in my sin), he helps me, he saved me, even though I didn’t deserve it and couldn’t do it for myself, and he did it out of love. And God’s grace continues and abides in my life, and for that I am most grateful. In a letter to Hippolytus A. Collibus, Jacobus Arminius wrote the following:

Concerning grace and free will, this is what I teach according to the Scriptures and orthodox consent: Free will is unable to begin or to perfect any true and spiritual good, without grace. That I may not be said, like Pelagius, to practice delusion with regard to the word “grace,” I mean by it that which is the grace of Christ and which belongs to regeneration. I affirm, therefore, that this grace is simply and absolutely necessary for the illumination of the mind, the due ordering of the affections, and the inclination of the will to that which is good.

It is this grace which operates on the mind, the affections, and the will; which infuses good thoughts into the mind, inspires good desires into the actions, and bends the will to carry into execution good thoughts and good desires. This grace goes before, accompanies, and follows. It excites, assists, operates that we will, and cooperates lest we will in vain. It averts temptations, assists and grants succor in the midst of temptations, sustains man against the flesh, the world and Satan, and in this great contest grants to man the enjoyment of victory. It raises up again those who are conquered and have fallen, establishes and supplies them with new strength, and renders them more cautious.

This grace commences salvation, promotes it, and perfects and consummates it.

I reject the notion that God helps me because I am able to help myself. Grace means I don’t deserve it, couldn’t afford it, there’s no way I could earn it, yet he gives salvation to me anyway out of the depths of his amazing love. Any good that I do, say, think, or feel is due entirely to God’s extraordinary grace.