Shepherds

I doubt that shepherd boys in the ancient world were inclined to expect, in the middle of the lonely Galileean night, the glory of the Lord shining all around them, and the voice of an angel making highly improbable claims. That phrase, the glory of the Lord, it stands for what we cannot imagine, like the term googleplex, or before time began. But there it was, filling the near longest night of the year with an unimaginable light, for only a gaggle of tired shepherd boys to see. The boys are no doubt scared stiff. Then the glory of the Lord speaks! Something about a child. Something about a manger. Something about a child in a manger being the messiah of the Lord. So when it's all over and the night is again still and dark and the stars remote and the hillside quiet once more, the boys agree to go looking for this child, testing the possibly-fantasized angel's unlikely prediction.

So then, single file down the long winding goat path to the sleeping village under the stars, and then the going from stable to stable through the town--if their master had caught them at this midnight roaming there would have been hell to pay for sure--and at last they find what they hardly dared expect. A mother and father. A new born baby. Just as the voice from the brightness shining all around had said.

So this is what the hinge-point of history looks like. A handful of runaway shepherds, a homeless family sheltering in a stable, on the near-longest night of the year, in an out-of-the-way town, under the shadow of empire. And from this immensity and this mystery the shepherds, lost for words, must eventually walk away. What on earth have they seen? What have they heard? All they can really know is that from now on nothing else matters, but the dawn light winking over a secret horizon.

Fearfully Made, and Fearfully Marred

A friend of mine had this as her recent "status update":

I was humbled and asked myself why Holiness would choose dirt, why Royalty would choose poverty, why the Great Provider would choose lack, and ultimately, why God would choose my ugly heart as His dwelling place.

Then one of her friends responded:

Because it's beautiful just like you you are fearfully and wonderfully made..don't you eva forget it girl

I don't know the commenter and don't want to intrude on a FB conversation with theological scolding or something, but I've got to say, God did not choose to dwell in my friend's heart because she is fearfully and wonderfully made. If so, since we are all fearfully and wonderfully made from the start, there would have never been a problem with his living in us. And there would never have been a need for the cross.

Ah well, this is typical "encouragement" in the Christian world. To tell people how wonderful they are. On a perhaps somewhat related note, David Wayne has a thoughtful post called Words of Comfort for the Dying. In this post David is recounting a dialog from a book called Hammer of God. A man on his death bed, who has spent his life trying to cultivate a clean heart before God, is still plagued by the memory of his sin. David writes,

Johannes was trying to cultivate a right heart, a clean heart, before God, but that this is a work. This is a subtle but important point to make especially given the fact that it is common in our day to exhort one another to cultivate a clean "heart" before God. But even this is detour as the emphasis is on our work of cultivation, and it causes us to trust in a clean heart as the basis of our acceptance before God, rather than trusting in Christ.

But Johannes has a friend, Katrina, who is willing to share the Gospel truth with the dying man. Johannes asks her:

"But why, then, have I not received a clean heart?"
"That you might learn to love Jesus," said the woman as calmly as before.

My friend's status update demonstrated an understanding of all this, but her friend rushing in to "encourage" her with talk of how wonderful she is misses the crucial point. Does the dying man need to be told how wonderful he is, or does he need to be told that while he was a sinner, and in the full knowledge of his sin, Christ died for him. How much better than that can encouragement get?

Last comment. Isn't this the problem that the people of God face and have always faced: the seeking of an alternative message that will downplay the supposed "negativity" of the Gospel. But we are all dying men and women, and we need a real reason for hope, not falsely encouraging fluff. Positive thinking will no longer do.

And that's the real reason Christmas is a joyous day. Happy Christmas!

Monday Whatnot

Best 10 books of the year, according to Books & Culture.

***

Speaking of books, UnChristian America, by Michael Babcock, makes an argument I have always made. Glad to know I'm not the only one.

***

Interesting. Researchers at Harvard School of Business conducted some experiments that showed that exposure to luxury is likely to induce people "to think more about themselves than others." Who woulda thunk?

***

Ask anyone what kind of music they listen to, they'll ususally tell you, "oh, a little of everything. I even like classical music!" I'm always skeptical. This NYT article corroborates my skepticism.

***

Noel Piper is Thinking about Santa. A lot of wisdom here.

***

More on the annual Christmas wars. In this case, I couldn't agree more.

^^^

David Wayne's most recent health update.

Thinking about hope

I've been wondering about a kind of historical chronology of hope.

The question for the historian working on such a project would be, in what things do people place their hope? Over time, which object of hope has enjoyed a period of prominence, only to succumb and be replaced by another? By asking these questions we can map our a kind of timeline of hope. Perhaps it would be instructive.

For example, was there an era when people put their primary hope in war-craft above all else? Another in which they put their hope in commerce? Or in revolution? Or in nostalgic dreams of restoring something that had been lost? Or in a particular leader or idea?

Can we create a timeline of such trends? The rise and fall of these various objects of hope?

It seems to me that this would be a worthy endeavor for some ambitious historian. And as for our moment in this ongoing chronology, it's worth asking, where are we as a people placing our hope?

Is our hope to be found in what leaders decide in Washington or Copenhagen? Is our hope in the wisdom of some new best-selling guru claiming to have the answer at last? Is our hope in family, or community, or law and order, or legislation, or green technology, or money, or communication, or getting back to the land, or colonizing space?

Of course we are a diverse people with a diversity of hopes, but in our day which two or three seem to have taken center stage, drawing the most attention? About which do we tend to make the most pie-eyed claims? About which do we tolerate the least questioning?

These are questions that occurred to me this week as I read, of all things, an old mystery/thriller from the mid-twentieth century, Raymond Chandler's Farewell, My Lovely. Chandler's world is one in which hope, if it exists at all, is in being deft enough and strong enough to simply survive, for this world (Chandler's world) is all danger all the time, with its seamy underside always about to burst through even the most apparently respectable surface. Think Jack Nicholson in Chinatown.

So I'm just wondering. When we put our hope in something, whatever it is, and when we elevate that thing to the position of last and best, so that there is no higher good imaginable, we will defend that last and best hope against all competitors with all the moral indignation we can muster. My point is not to suggest that all things in which we put our hope are invalid, only that perhaps we too readily elevate our object of hope to the status of an idol.

I see evidence of this all around me. And it causes me to wonder....

A Few New Blogging Friends

Yesterday's post was hard to write. I didn't think much of it, but posted it because I had committed to taking part in One Word at a Time Blog Carnival. The Carnival is great. If you have the time, check it out. What you come away with after reading the 40 or so ruminative blogposts concerning that little word, church, is that 1) people love church, and 2) people are very disquieted by some things about church.

Some of these posts are by church leaders, others by back-benchers like myself. I was delighted to discover a lot of insightful blogging through this carnival. To name a few:

Connecting to Impact
What I Learned Today
Becoming Last
Bullets & Butterflies

There are many other fine participants in the Carnival, too many to list here. Go over to Bridget Chumbley's to see the complete list.

My favorite post in the group? Well, I have to give the nod to Sex is Amazing, which, btw, really is a post about church. Really.

"As you See the Day drawing near"

Long time reader and commenter Nancy invited me to join the One Word at a Time Blog Carnival, which is being hosted this month by Bridget Chumbley. The word this month is "church." Okay, here goes:

I used to go to church. I went to church for many years. But somewhere along the line, for whatever reason, it began to seem like a meaningless gesture and only that. Sunday morning: go to church. Check.

Some friends of mine like to say, "Church is not a building," and, "Don't got to church; be the church." They have a point.

Given that point, here's my simple working definition: Church is a network of Christian relationships.

OK, so the relational network is woven of the shared experience of believers ("saints," to use the Apostle Paul's characteristic word) in a given place, working out their faith. As it happens, that last part turns out to be a difficult calling. Working out your faith. What does it look like in action. It looks like love. Love for people. Love for God.

Like I said, a difficult calling. More difficult than any of us would like to admit.

So, I stopped going to church, and started trying to be the church. Not that you won't find me at church any given Sunday, but in theory my "going" will be of a piece with my "being."

That's the plan, anyway. I can't say I've mastered it yet. Truth is, just as it was a struggle for me to live my faith when I operated in the old church-as-place mindset, it remains a struggle for me now with my church-as-relational-network mindset.

Aside:

Picture me with two little cartoon pixies on my shoulders. One is earnest and true, kind of a Disney pixie, and that one's saying, "Don't just go to church, be the church."

Yeah! That's what I'll do. Thanks, little Disney pixie!

But the other is this needling ironic Warner Bros. pixie (voice by Mel Blanc), and that one's saying, "How's that workin' out for you, bub?"

Ummm, okay, I guess.

Anyway, I'm writing this on a Sunday morning. In a little while I'll be going to church. They've got a Christmas thing going on today. Should be fun. Us saints getting together, having struggled with this loving God and loving people thing all week (don't try to tell me it's not a struggle for you), getting together to remind one another that God first loved us with an everlasting love, a love that he "worked out" to the full measure, you might say. And that his love is what makes our love more than a fond wish.

We have to remind ourselves of this a lot, we saints. We kind of lose touch. We get side-tracked. The dream, the dream of love, gets deferred. Faith ebbs away quietly, and suddenly we have forgotten about such high-minded notions as being the church, working out our faith, loving God and people.

I remember something in Hebrews about church. The author of Hebrews was writing to the local network of believers in that city, circa the middle of the first century. In chapter 10 the author urges the people in the Jerusalem network to never stop meeting together.

Something about "being the church," then, will have something to do with meeting together. And the reason they should not stop meeting together? Because "the Day" is approaching.

Cue the ominous music! The Day? My study Bible says he's talking about the day that Jesus comes back as the conqueror of all that had stood against the will of God. You know, his will that we, his children, should love him and love people to the full measure, forever. Here's the passage in question:

Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, for he who promised is faithful. And let us consider how to stir up one another to love and good works, not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the Day drawing near.

So, to paraphrase, the author is saying, You Christ-followers in Jerusalem, don't stop meeting together (don't forsake your network!), keep encouraging one another to faith and love (presumably the encouragement is needed because, well, faith and love is something we are not necessarily consistently good at), and do this because the great Day that we are all longing for is that much nearer.

This passage helps us to see the whole church-thing in an end-of-the-age perspective. That's important. The things we do today have a last-day significance. Live, the author of Hebrews seems to be saying, as if you really believe the day of the Lord is upon you! And remember, he's not saying this to a bunch of individuals, but to "the church." The network of relationships in Christ at Jerusalem. Live . . . live together . . . be together . . . as those who are anticipating Jesus at any moment!

If we're not eagerly anticipating that day, the network will morph into something else, perhaps. In my opinion, the American landscape is littered with examples.

But I believe the guy who wrote that letter to the Jerusalem network. He's right. It's good advice. Never stop meeting together. The day is approaching!

Monday Whatnot

A new play by David Mamet? I love his work. I think he's a genius. Reviewer Elizabeth Gates says of Race:

...Mamet spares nobody in this piece and in turn causes the audience at large to examine their own deeply rooted racial biases and to reevaluate even the smallest, seemingly harmless action against their fellow man. This play artfully pronounces the many strains of self doubt and internal conflict we all face within ourselves and places it all under one roof without hope for escape.

I ussually have a luddite reaction to new technology at first, then eventually come around. I don't know about the ebook though. I think it will encourage still more hyperactive reading. But Michael Hyatt, who is more knowledgeable than me on these matters, wrote an interesting post ominously (imho) titled, The End of Book Publishing as We Know It.

12 Coolest Cubicles

I just picked up a book about a battle in the South Pacific during WWII that I knew absolutely nothing about. The book is called, The Last Stand of the Tin Can Soldiers, by James D. Hornfischer. It is at once harrowing and awe-inspiring. I highly recommend it. [Note: this Amazon review appears to be written by an actual participant in the battle].

William Tighe, writing for Touchstone, on the story behind December 25.

Sunday Spurgeon

Evening Brightens into Day

"It shall come to pass, that at evening time it shall be light" (Zechariah 14:7).

It is a surprise that it should be so; for all things threaten that at evening I time it shall be dark. God is wont to work in a way so much above our fears and beyond our hopes that we are greatly amazed and are led to praise His sovereign grace. No, it shall not be with us as our hearts are prophesying: the dark will not deepen into midnight, but it will on a sudden brighten into day. Never let us despair. In the worst times let us trust in the LORD who turneth the darkness of the shadow of death into the morning. When the tale of bricks is doubled Moses appears, and when tribulation abounds it is nearest its end. This promise should assist our patience. The light may not fully come till our hopes are quite spent by waiting all day to no purpose. To the wicked the sun goes down while it is yet day: to the righteous the sun rises when it is almost night. May we not with patience wait for that heavenly light, which may be long in coming but is sure to prove itself well worth waiting for? Come, my soul, take up thy parable and sing unto Him who will bless thee in life and in death, in a manner surpassing all that nature has ever seen when at its best.

From Faith's Checkbook

"Ah, stubborn children," declares the Lord

The people of Israel, hard-pressed by the Assyrians, have in mind to flee to Egypt. There they might find haven from the enemy. It's a rational, real politik kind of idea, but God will have none of it.

“Ah, stubborn children,” declares the Lord,
“who carry out a plan, but not mine,
and who make an alliance, but not of my Spirit,
that they may add sin to sin;
who set out to go down to Egypt,
without asking for my direction,
to take refuge in the protection of Pharaoh
and to seek shelter in the shadow of Egypt!
Therefore shall the protection of Pharaoh turn to your shame,
and the shelter in the shadow of Egypt to your humiliation.

Looking for shelter in the Egypts of the world is always a problem for us. Looking for shelter in places where the reigning powers are essentially hostile to God and His people.

Still, what do you want us to do, God? Just sit here? Well:

For thus said the Lord God, the Holy One of Israel,
“In returning and rest you shall be saved;
in quietness and in trust shall be your strength.”
But you were unwilling, and you said,
“No! We will flee upon horses”;
therefore you shall flee away;
and, “We will ride upon swift steeds”;
therefore your pursuers shall be swift.

All this comes from chapter 30 of Isaiah, a prophet to whom Israel was unwilling to listen, for he spoke no "smooth words." God seems to understand that his children are not going to heed his warning. "Quietness and trust" is not for them. And yet:

Therefore the Lord waits to be gracious to you,
and therefore he exalts himself to show mercy to you.
For the Lord is a God of justice;
blessed are all those who wait for him.

that's verse 18. Note, the children of God will not wait and be still, but God waits. He is not waiting for us, he is waiting for the moment, I suspect, when his mercy will have the most compelling impact, and bring him the greatest glory. The ESV Study Bible notes: "[The Lord] knows the perfect way to achieve his purpose, the perfect time to go into action, and the perfect disciplinary process that will awaken Judah."

I'm giving myself a meditation assignment today. I'm going to let verse 18 abide in my thoughts today, and learn if I can what God's waiting, and my waiting on God, really means.

Christmas should be disturbing?

Sinclair Ferguson, writing for Ligonier Ministries, has penned a timely article called Santa Christ? Now, you know me. I've grown pretty damn ruthless about this travesty they call Christmas. I'm for eliminating the commercial aspect of Christmas altogether (if only one could!), and for scotching the whole Santa Claus tradition while we're at it. That's right. The trite and sentimental iconic representation of the Christmas spirit is really the front-man for our culture's direct assault on what Christmas really means, an assault which is entirely motivated by the acquisitive instinct at its most ruthlessly organized level.

But read Ferguson:

There is, therefore, an element in the Gospel narratives that stresses that the coming of Jesus is a disturbing event of the deepest proportions. It had to be thus, for He did not come merely to add something extra to life, but to deal with our spiritual insolvency and the debt of our sin. He was not conceived in the womb of Mary for those who have done their best, but for those who know that their best is "like filthy rags" (Isa. 64:6)--far from good enough--and that in their flesh there dwells no good thing (Rom. 7:18). He was not sent to be the source of good experiences, but to suffer the pangs of hell in order to be our Savior.

The Christians who first began to celebrate the birth of the Savior saw this. Christmas for them was not (contrary to what is sometimes mistakenly said) simply adding a Christian veneer to a pagan festival--the Roman Saturnalia. They may have been doing what many Christians have done in marking Reformation Day (which happens to fall on Halloween), namely, committing themselves to a radical alternative to the world's Saturnalia, refusing to be squeezed into its mold. They were determined to fix mind, heart, will, and strength exclusively on the Lord Jesus Christ. There was no confusion in their thinking between the world and the gospel, Saturnalia and Christmas, Santa Jesus and Christ Jesus. They were citizens of another empire altogether.

And this:

The truth is that unless the significance of what Christ did at the first Christmas shakes us, we can scarcely be said to have understood much of what it means, or of who He really is.

So, have a very disturbing Christmas, one and all!

[HT: Joshua Otte]

"From the Shadow Lands into the Light of Christ"

Ove at Gospel Coalition there's an article by J. V. Fesko on one of my favorite hymns, O Come, O Come Emmanuel. Andy uses the hymn as his example of the real meaning of Christmas. Two snips:

As people sing this hymn they assuredly know that they are singing about the birth of Christ. However, what is striking about this hymn is its approach to unpacking the birth of Christ. It moves from the shadow lands of the Old Testament into the light of the New Testament with the revelation of God in Christ. This hymn traces the themes of Israel’s exodus to the eschatological, or final, exodus that was to begin with the birth of the Messiah.

And:

When we contemplate the birth of Christ, we must not do so in terms of some sort of saccharine tale about an infant king born to bring the world some joy—to give some glimmer of hope in an otherwise gloomy place. When we think of the birth of Christ we should also not get caught up in the seasonal sentimentality, where Jesus is but one of a number of symbols meant to inspire kindness and good cheer: snowflakes, snow men, sleigh rides, and Jesus.

Rather, the birth of Christ is the long-awaited fulfillment of God’s promises to his people, the beginning of the eschatological exodus. Christ was born in a lowly estate, in the likeness of sinful flesh, that he might redeem for his Father a people, that he might redeem for himself a bride, a bride for whom he laid down his very life.

Read the whole thing and be blessed.

About those 10 Commandmand Roadsigns

I saw the signs in Ohio. One through five on the first sign, six through ten on the next.  Of course, going like the devil down I-70 leaves you no time to read past the first three words, but the first three words are all most of us need. "Thou shalt not," we read, and then, as the sign dwindles in our rear view mirror, we think, "That was the 10 commandments! On a roadsign!"

Now, up here in Maine, if you put that kind of sign beside the road (not that you could, since we have a law here against billboards and such), but if you did, people would whiz by and say, "Sheesh, how do they expect us to read all that!? Wonder what it was advertising."

And that's the difference, methinks, between Christendom and post-Christendom. In Christendom, it makes sense to put up that sort of billboard beside the road, I suppose. People will know what it's there for: it's there to convict. Whether or not the passing motorist cares at all about keeping the law, they know what they have just seen. It's the law of God, which they learned about in Sunday school. It's the way God wants us all to live. They might or might not believe it, but it's all part of the shared cultural baggage of Christendom. People will see the sign, be reminded of the commandments, and the gears of memory will turn in the completely predictable way. Some will scoff, some will make a mental note, and some will sense an inkling of conviction, but none will simply shrug and wonder, "What was that all about?"

Like in post-Christendom. Here, the whole Billy Graham/sinner's prayer approach will only be met with blank stares. I thought of all this when I read David Fitch's post, “You Must Admit You Are A Sinner!”: Why This Doesn’t Work in Post Christendom Evangelism [HT: Transforming Sermons]. Fitch says it well:

These kind of approaches assume a whole host of things that have been true about our own conversions, yet make no sense to people in the new worlds of post Christendom. We therefore end up coming off as incessantly judgmental, and make no point of contact for witnessing the good news. The result is often now this person will try to run and hide whenever she sees an evangelical Christian within 50 feet.

It's a good post that goes far beyond my ruminations here.