The Stories We Tell

Everyone has a personal story, of course, but everyone also has a personal myth. That's the story we tell ourselves, and sometimes others, about ourselves. It's how we create ourselves, or the selves we want to be--the selves we want others to see--by sifting the facts of our personal history through the sieve of our psychical need. We create, thereby, a kind of interior autobiography--the "portrait of a life"--played out, over and over, inside our heads, and glimpsed frequently in our conversation.

We see this in faith circles as much as any. There are the people who always want to tell you their faith story. Or tell you how often and how much they pray. Or tell you about something they did that they're sure made the angels rejoice, or how this or that good deed at work is causing their co-workers to wonder--they're quite sure of this--just what makes them so dang kind, generous, and humble.

There's this meme (I guess you'd call it) going around Facebook that I quite like. It says, "Be kind to everyone, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle."

Yes! I "liked" it with an enthusiastic click.

Anyway, these personal myths are indicators of the kind of battles we're facing. I'll give you an example. When I was having a little trouble with my boss a while back, I found myself imagining hypothetical scenarios in which I gave my boss what for. In which I proved myself. In which my wisdom and competence was fully on display, silencing all possible counter-arguments. Sometimes I shared these hypotheticals with others, seeking confirmation and encouragement.

I hear this sort of thing all the time from Christians. Tales of Wisdom and Competence, I call them. Along with these we have Tales of Spiritual Fervor, or Tales of Toughness (guys like these stories), or Good-Deed Tales. I have known whole sermons (many of them) built around these personal myths. They all speak to our need to be respected, to be commended.

And they make me sad. Because it means--I'll just speak for myself here--that I have less confidence in the grace of God than I thought I had. My "final pleasure" is not so much in the grace of God in Christ, after all, so I seek instead the affirmations of men. I'm still needy of human approval. I'm still fighting the old battle with self-doubt and self-hatred. I'm still not resting in His grace!

In short, I have not so soaked in His grace toward me--the worst of sinners!--that I can put all this compensatory self-talk to rest at last and simply be thankful. And I think many others are like me in this.

And it only goes to show that our great and never-ending need is for the Gospel, which is the story of God's satisfaction in all who have trusted in Christ. The Son's story has become, by the grace of God, our own.

Processing the Kingdom 2: Poor in Spirit

Jesus had just finished healing healing "every disease and affliction" among a large crowd of people who had apparently come to him with just that hope in mind. And when he had a moment to sit down with his new-fledged disciples, I imagine it was with great joy--and perhaps a nod toward some who had just been healed--that he said, "Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven."

I am reminded of the old joke about the man who has fallen over a cliff and is clinging to a weak little bush on the side of the cliff. He shouts out, "Is there anyone up there who can help me?" God answers, "I am here, my son. All you have to do is trust me and let go. I promise I'll catch you." The man thinks about it for a moments and shouts, "Is there anyone ELSE up there who can help me?"

Clearly, that fellow wasn't poor in spirit. The ESV Study Bible footnote concerning the word "blessed" here refers to "more than a temporary or circumstantial feeling of happiness, this is a state of well-being in relationship to God that belongs to those who respond to Jesus' ministry. The poor in spirit are those who recognize they are in need of God's help."

I like that. It's all about dependence. But the question arises, what about after the healing. I once was blind, but by golly now I see! There is a way we have of turning the kingdom blessings of Jesus into a foundation for pride and self-reliance! Strange, how we can turn even the gifts of God into idols.

That's one of the reasons it's helpful to think of ourselves as "being saved" (continuous) rather than "saved" (one and done); it reinforces in our mind our need, our helplessness, as a continuing reality. As the old song says:

Nothing in my hand I bring,
simply to the cross I cling;
naked, come to thee for dress;
helpless look to thee for grace;
foul, I to the fountain fly;
wash me, Savior, or I die.

While I draw this fleeting breath,
when mine eyelids close in death,
when I soar through tracts unknown
see thee on thy judgment throne,
Rock of ages, cleft for me,
let me hide myself in thee.

But the great thing is, there is much room for joy in all this poverty of spirit, this helplessness and need. The joy is in the certainty of the love and power of the one who is saving us. Even as we are being saved from the peril, let the celebration of our salvation begin! Amazing grace!

Preaching the 100-proof Gospel to Youself

Fellow Mainer Joshua Otte has a great post about preaching the Gospel to your drooping heart. He's quoting the great John Owen here. Owen was one of the greatest teachers concerning the Gospel. He reminds us that it is the Gospel (and only the Gospel) that truly convicts our sin-sick hearts, and the Gospel that in turn comforts and sanctifies us. Otte's post contains a lengthy quote from Owen, and you should really read the whole thing, but here's a snip:

Let, then, your soul by faith be exercised with such thoughts and apprehensions as these: I am a poor, weak creature; unstable as water, I cannot excel. This corruption is too hard for me, and is at the very door of ruining my soul; and what to do I know not. My soul is become as parched ground, and a habitation of dragons. I have made promises and broken them; vows and engagements have been as a thing of naught. Many persuasions have I had that I had got the victory and should be delivered, but I am deceived; so that I plainly see, that without some eminent succor and assistance, I am lost, and shall be prevailed on to an utter relinquishment of God. But yet, though this be my state and condition, let the hands that hang down be lifted up, and the feeble knees be strengthened. Behold, the Lord Christ, that has all fullness of grace in his heart [Matt. 28:18], he is able to slay all these his enemies.

I also want to mention a post from Joshua's friend, Jonathan Dodson, called 50/50 or 100% Gospel.

The 50/50 Gospel relies on 50% behavior, and 50% God's grace. The behavior half can include such good things as morality, missions, or community. These things are merely our contribution to the mix. Look at any Christian bestseller list and you'll likely see a lot of books promoting the 50/50 Gospel. In fact, much of Christian publishing is dependent on reader-acceptance of this premise. Dodson explains the 50/50 Gospel further:

Broken marriages, patterns of sexual sin, deep-seated anger, and financial hardships are primarily the product of our failure to behave like Jesus. Enter the Church. The church can reminds us, exhort us, even train us to be like Jesus, to make good moral decisions, not bad ones. We need the grace of God’s example and a faithful commitment to behave accordingly. This is the 50/50 gospel, and it is anathema.

The 50/50 gospel relies, not on the power of grace, but on the power of morality. As a result, the Church becomes a half-way house between our moral failures and our moral successes. We rehabilitate our decision-making under the faithful instruction of a faithless institution. But the 50/50 gospel is sometimes mixed differently. Try 50% mission, 50% grace. We need the grace of Jesus example and the goal of Jesus mission. In this concoction, churches serve as a inspiring non-profit, moving us from missional failure to missional success. We soften our social consciences under the weight of a missional institution. And then there is the 50% community, 50% grace combo. We need the grace of God to become “like the early church,” to have real community, to jettison our individualism in order to truly become “the church.” The gospel becomes a quick-fix to our lack of community.

Well, I've quoted a good deal of Dodson's article so far. I simply don't know what to leave out. Dodson's ends his post with a brief description of the "100 proof Gospel." You should really read the whole post carefully. I would see the 100-proof Gospel explained more fully . . . but wait, that's what Owen did. Go back to Joshua's post and read Owen's take on the 100-proof Gospel.

Grasping Grace

Yesterday I tried to write a post about grace. It was long and somewhat rambling, but I was trying to get at something, to make a point that seemed important to me. Then, today, I checked in on Matthew's blog, The Gospel Muse, and discovered that someone else had said it all so much better than I had:

In this life, we never quite get over grace, we never entirely grasp it, we never really learn it. It always takes us by surprise. Again and again we have to be conquered and captivated by its totality. The transition will never be completed this side of the grave. The Christian can never presume to be on the glory road, nor to reach a stage, which now forms the basis for the next stage, which can be left behind. The Christian who is grasped by the totality of grace always discovers the miracle anew. One is always at a new beginning. Grace is new everyday. Like the manna in the wilderness, it can never be bottled or stored. Yesterday’s grace turns to poison. By the same token, however, the Christian never has an endless process of sanctification to traverse. Since the totality is given, one knows that one has arrived. Christ carries the Christian totally.

Grace v. Merit

I think most of our emotional issues in life result from our failure to receive and apply the grace of God in Christ to that issue.

Let's take for example the issue of lust. Imagine a Christian believer who has "stumbled" again and again into pornography. He feels dirty and guilty afterward, berates himself, and promises God not to do it again (although he doesn't really believe he can keep that promise). The cycle goes on repeating itself. Again he "stumbles." Again the feeling of dirtiness and of having "disappointed God." Again the promise. Until, in addition to the lust, he's now entangled in deep issues of personal dishonesty with God. Those promises are empty and he knows it. He's either going to go on living that lie, keeping a significant part of himself hidden from others, faking righteousness to all his church friends, or . . .

Or what? We see here how guilt over sin entangles us in projects of will-based self-improvement which always fail, and therefore always lead to disappointment and more lying. The only answer is, give up! Christian, lay your deadly doing down! In my example above, that would look something like this: at the very point of the lustful impulse in the mind, the fellow simply reminds himself of the good news of God's grace toward him in Christ Jesus at the cross.

That truth is impressive. It has impact. It changes things. This fellow begins to realize and receive the truth that God loves him no less after his lustful indulgence than before. God knows him, which means he knows about the sin problem he has (in fact, God has a more realistic grasp of that problem than the fellow himself), and yet He gave His Son so that this sinful guy could have fellowship with Him forever, regardless of the repeated sinning.

Since lust is a frequently recurring impulse in many men, the reception of grace is a frequent need. Moral of the story: grace received overwhelms the lustful impulse and replaces it with gratitude. At that point in time it will be very difficult to follow through with the lustful impulse. All the momentum of the flesh will have been lost. It has been replaced by a new impulse, an impulse toward something far more beautiful and stimulating than had been the object of his lust. Over time, he will find himself winning this battle more often than losing. He will find himself more and more free. Grace always wins. Grace deals sin its death-blow. Eventually, in the new heaven and new earth, grace will have killed sin dead.

A final point: I believe this truth is one that is hard for many men to receive. I'm talking about Christians here, who are supposed to get it. I've seen this in my own experience time and time again. We continue applying the merit template: I'm good, and so God loves me (or, similarly, I'm a Christian, and so God loves me); I'm bad (or, I have weak faith), and so God is miffed, disappointed, maybe even angry. I have seen Christian men cling persistently to this template like drowning men to a water-saturated log. They say they believe in the grace of God, but they live like they don't. Maybe that's because to let go of the log would mean admitting they'd been wrong all these years. Men don't like to do that.

The grace of God is powerful, but there is something in us, in our flesh, that resists it. We need to be realistic about ourselves in this. The gospel remains "hard to believe." That is, hard to accept, to walk in. To trust. The merit-template feels much more natural and intuitive. That's where we're at home. It's what we understand. Rewards for the good, punishment for the bad. But God is asking us to believe him when he says, "I love you now and forever, I have forgiven your sins, and my plan is to walk with you in a garden as I once did with Adam. After the cross, there is no longer any room for shame and hiding."

That's his plan, and remember, He's sovereign. Do you believe it?

God Doesn't Think You're Awesome

The Gospel is good news, but it's not just any good news someone happens to think up. It's very specific good news. It's a particular piece of good news. Not just any happy-talk that comes along (which we then endlessly repeat to ourselves until we feel good for a while . . . then calling the whole procedure discipleship, and writing books about it!).

All of which is just my way of saying, Jared, you sure got that right!

Righteousness by Grace?

My pastor said something a couple of Sundays back that has really stuck with me. He said this:

The one and only effective way to walk in righteousness is by grace.

Now, I really do anticipate the rest of my life being an investigation of this one truth. Because the thing is, though I believe it with all my heart, I really don't understand it. My question is simple: how does this righteouness by grace look in real life?

A note: we all need to resist the tendency to transform truth into mere truism. That's when something difficult and lofty is brought low, supposedly for the sake of understanding, but having the effect of actually preventing real thought about the matter. It's not a falsification of the truth, only a gross simplification, some form of words that we content ourselves with in lieu of real thought. It's something like copying Van Gogh's Starry Night with a paint-by-number set.

As an alternative, it's good to begin our thinking about these things with something like David's recognition of the limits of his own understanding. He, in considering the omnipresence of God, simply confessed,

Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is high, I cannot obtain it. [Ps. 139:6]

But let's get back to what my pastor said. I've spoken to a few people about it, but to be quite honest they seemed to be uncomfortable with the asking of difficult questions about matters of faith. Everyone wants to avow that grace is a wonderful thing, but grace as power to walk in righteousness, man, that's a deep river.

I don't intend to say any more than that. It's deep. I cannot touch the bottom.

"Gaze no longer upon your empty bottle..."

John Newton said:

We need not dig in the earth nor climb in the skies nor cross the seas: our remedy is near (Rom. 10:6-8).... Come, gaze no longer upon your empty bottle but look to the fountain, the river, the ocean of all grace.... When Christ is out of sight we are deaf to all the calls, invitations and promises of the Scripture.

Quoted in Michael Horton's article, Grace, How Strange to Sound, in Modern Reformation.

Idols Only Breed Anxiety, Bitterness, & Despondency: Insight from Tim Keller

Maybe you've seen this already: Tim Keller's two-column comparison of Religion vs. The Gospel. Scroll down a little and you'll see this comparison.

In the "Religion" column:

Since I look to my own pedigree or performance for my spiritual acceptability, my heart manufactures idols. It may be my talents, my moral record, my personal discipline, my social status, etc. I absolutely have to have them so they serve as my main hope, meaning, happiness, security, and significance, whatever I may say I believe about God.

Then, in the "Gospel" column:

I have many good things in my life—family, work, spiritual disciplines, etc. But none of these good things are ultimate things to me. None of them are things I absolutely have to have, so there is a limit to how much anxiety, bitterness, and despondency they can inflict on me when they are threatened and lost.

I like that. Sharp guy, that Tim Keller!

[HT: Reformissionary]

Grace in Practice

Google Books provides significant excerpts from Paul F. M. Zahl's Grace in Practice. Definitely worth a closer look.

God's Kindness through Christ.

First, Justin Taylor shared a powerful quote from Martin Luther. Then, David Wayne (the Jollyblogger) re-posted the same quote, with many thanks to Justin. So why on earth should I follow up with the very same quote? Well, because it rocks.

People don't earn God's approval or receive life and salvation because of anything they've done. Rather, the only reason they receive life and salvation is because of God's kindness through Christ. There is no other way.

Many Christians are tired of hearing this teaching over and over. They think that they learned it all long ago. However, they barely understand how important it really is. If it continues to be taught as truth, the Christian church will remain united and pure — free from decay. This truth alone makes and sustains Christianity. You might hear an immature Christian brag about how well he knows that we receive God's approval through God's kindness and not because of anything we do to earn it. But if he goes on to say that this is easy to put into practice, then have no doubt he doesn't know what he's talking about, and he probably never will. We can never learn this truth completely or brag that we understand it fully. Learning this truth is an art. We will always remain students of it, and it will always be our teacher.

The people who truly understand that they receive God's approval by faith and put this into practice don't brag that they have fully mastered it. Rather, they think of it as a pleasant taste or aroma that they are always pursuing. These people are astonished that they can't comprehend it as fully as they would like. They hunger and thirst for it. They yearn for it more and more. They never get tired of hearing about this truth.

I've been thinking this lately, but Luther expressed it more clearly, precisely, and powerfully than I ever could have.

Christ in Me?

I'm really liking this book. I haven't got very far into it yet, but I need to share something I just read here and maybe see what you think? Every now and then Chapell states things in a way that really bring you up short--that make you want to say, "Hey, wait a minute, I just don't kow about that."

Here's an example. Chapell has been talking about what it means to be united with Christ both in his death and in his life. It's concerning the latter point that he brought me up short. He says that Christ supplies our identity. Unpacking that concept, he says:

The spiritual reality of my new identity permits me once again to look through the eyes of Jesus at the events of Scripture. I can see a crowd gathering on another mountainside prior to Calvary. Though Jesus preaches to them of the righteousness of God and his kingdom, the wisdom of the sermon on the mount is mine. Another time, a man approaches Christ with torment of spirit and body. Jesus commands a legion of devils to come out of him, but the victory is mine. As the Savior approaches a small town, a widow comes toward him in a funeral procession. The coffin bears the body of her only son. Christ touches the coffin despite its ceremonial uncleanness, and her son rises. The compassion and power of the act are mine. In a wilderness, Stan approaches and tempts God's Son with allurements that would satiate pleasure, power, and pride. Jesus resists him with the Word of God, and the righteousness of that resistance is mine.

I ran this by my lovely wife, and she had the same brung up short reaction as me. And yet, is this not what Paul is getting at when he says:

"For you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God." (Col. 3:3)

"For as many of you as were baptized into Christ have put on Christ." (Gal. 3:27)

"[Believers are] seated with [God] in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus..." (Eph. 2:6)

I'd like to know what others think. Is Chapell's over-stating his case? Is he out of balance? Or is he just taking God at his word?

Chapell, btw, is president of Covenant Seminary in St. Louis, MO. You can read more about him here.

Musing on the Word: Matthew 5:3

I’ve been wondering what it means to be “poor in spirit.” I keep looking for such a spirit, but they’re not easy to find. I look to the mega-church pastors, who seem to set themselves up as exemplary of the attitude the rest of us should emulate. They don’t seem poor in spirit; in fact, the furthest thing from it.

What does it mean to have nothing, spiritually speaking. Does it simply mean that I can’t save myself? Is that it? Does it mean that I’m utterly dependent on the mercy of God? That seems close to the mark. Mercy. I need mercy.

Which reminds me of the tax collector in the parable. He went up to the temple to pray and said, “Lord, have mercy on me, a sinner.” There’s that word again. mercy. This man was a child of God, not a pagan, not a stranger to the worship of the One. If he needed saving, it was not simply that he needed to “accept Jesus into his heart.” If saving is what he needed, we need to expand our definition of “save” from that of a decision we make, or the instance of our being transferred from the kingdom of darkness to the kingdom of light. It must mean something that goes on from there, a continuous need on our part, and a continuous action on God's part. All of which has to do with that other word the tax collector's used: sinner.

Well, he was “poor in spirit,” that’s for sure. I think what’s clear here, what I’m getting at, is that this poverty of spirit is not some necessary condition we must have prior to our salvation, after which by God’s grace we are rich in spirit. That’s the proposition I’m testing. I know there is a way we can say in truth that yes, we who believe are rich in spirit. We have the gifts of the Spirit, we have riches stored up in heaven, etc. But this may be one of those “both/and” cases, not “either/or.”

Was Jesus rich in spirit, or poor? I seem to recall that Luke says in several places that Jesus did this or that “in the power of the Spirit.” And when Paul prays that the Ephesian Christians would be filled with all the fullness of God, is that not spiritual wealth, spiritual abundance? Not poverty. Not emptiness.

Yet I also recall that Isaiah said of the coming Messiah, “He had no form or majesty that we should desire him. He was despised and rejected by men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief.” And I recall his cry from the cross, “My God, my God, why have you deserted me?” And Paul said that Jesus, in coming to die for us, “made himself nothing.”

Was Jesus then poor so that we could be rich? That’s what Paul says at 2 Corinthians 8:9. But recall what Paul said mockingly to these same Corinthians in his previous letter: “Already you have all you want! Already you have become rich!” His words drip with sarcasm, because in fact the Corinthian faith has led to spiritual boasting and pride. So Paul is verbally scourging them here. He is reminding them that they have nothing to boast of, since it is all gift.

So then what did Jesus mean when he said, “Blessed are the poor in spirit”? I know a man, a believer, who was once filled with spiritual pride and ambition. Through no one’s fault but his own he has now fallen upon very hard times. He told me recently that he can’t pray anymore, but then he said that the last time he tried to pray, he fell to his knees (and he said he'd never prayed kneeling before then, never in his ambitious years had he done so) and cried out, “God, I’ve got nothing.”

That’s the tax collector’s prayer. My friend once believed that it was he who brought things to God in prayer. He brought a kind of spiritual prowess, an impressive background of spiritual accomplishments and evangelistic fervor, things that would be sure to please God and prompt a generous response. Now in a spasm of despair he prayed, "I’ve got nothing," and I think perhaps it was his finest moment as a believer. "Blessed are those who are poor in spirit."

My pastor, preaching on the parable of the pharisee and the tax collector, said that the point of the parable was that the tax collector had "a yes in his heart." It was in many ways a helpful sermon, but I think he was profoundly and sadly wrong on this matter of the tax collector’s heart. The point of the parable is that he had nothing at all in his heart that pleased God, but that he threw himself on God’s mercy. He was, without a doubt, poor in spirit.

Only the spiritually poverty-stricken know their need for mercy. And they know from whom such mercy flows. It is not to a throne of rewards ("just desserts") that we are to draw near, but to a throne of grace.

Still, I am left with a few questions. Are we poor for a moment–an hour, say, or even a day or two–after which our lives are marked by spiritual riches, overflowing banqueting tables, water into wine celebrations, continuous spiritual foretastes of heaven’s wealth? Do we quickly move from poverty to riches in our spiritual walk? From rags to crowns? Is that the point of Matthew 5:3? That would be "either/or" thinking. I have a hunch that God wants us to hold these two seemingly contradictory truths about our spiritual condition together in our minds and be careful not to let the one nullify the other.

Or, to put it another way, I have a hunch that our riches in Christ, our gifts, our mercies (new every day), our "powerful" and persitent prayer, our stirring exhortations and high wisdom and way with words, our capacity to bless others with comfort and encouragement, none of these must supercede or replace the sense of our own brokenness, our innate condition of absolute need, our helplessness and nakedness, our spiritual poverty. We must appraise ourselves accurately. Like my friend, we've got nothing.

Only the helpless can really accept a gift as gift, pure and simple, thoroughly undeserved, and requiring no repayment (for we have nothing with which to repay, as the Giver well knows). To be in this place is to know and experience very intimately the loving generosity of our God. That is, it is to know God.