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THE SUMMER OF ‘89

I spent a couple of months in the summer of ‘89 taking language classes in Europe. Several other students joined me a few days early to do some sightseeing. As we walked down a crowded street, several locals began pointing at us and saying words I didn’t understand.

It was an awkward moment, to say the least. And it got worse. When we passed by, they spit on us and berated us in unfriendly tones. One of the girls in our group knew the language and was able to translate. They were cursing us for being from the U.S.

The look in their eyes, the venom on their lips, and the anger in their words gave it away. We were hated. For being American. Even though it wasn’t for being a Christian, that was my first experience of what persecution for Christ must feel like.

THE MARKS OF JESUS

The apostle Paul knew exactly what it felt like. He not only had suffered low impact name-calling but the type of persecution that leaves scars. In the final two verses of his letter to the Galatians, he writes,

17 Finally, let no one cause me trouble, for I bear on my body the marks of Jesus. 18 The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with your spirit, brothers. Amen.

Paul’s “marks of Jesus” are not the mysterious appearance of wounds on his hands and feet as some have speculated. They are the scars of having been nearly stoned or beaten to death on numerous occasions as a Christian missionary. In 2 Corinthians 11:24-27, he describes his experiences,

“24 Five times I received at the hands of the Jews the forty lashes less one. 25 Three times I was beaten with rods. Once I was stoned. Three times I was shipwrecked; a night and a day I was adrift at sea; 26 on frequent journeys, in danger from rivers, danger from robbers, danger from my own people, danger from Gentiles, danger in the city, danger in the wilderness, danger at sea, danger from false brothers; 27 in toil and hardship, through many a sleepless night, in hunger and thirst, often without food, in cold and exposure.”[i]

THE RISING TIDE

According to Mariam-Webster, the legal definition of persecution is “punishment or harassment… on the basis of ethnicity, religion, or political opinion.” Persecution is not always severe but varies in scope and intensity. Usually, it starts small, with insults and discrimination until it gains momentum, becoming a complete system of oppression.

North Korea, Afghanistan, Somalia, Sudan, and many other countries are known for state-sponsored suppression of Christians. In these places, the penalty for sharing the gospel or even being a believer ranges from imprisonment to death.

While Christians in America are not enduring that severity of mistreatment, the tide seems to be rising. As once fringe, political and social doctrines become culturally mainstream, it will not be long before Bible-believing Christians are widely considered cultural heretics. Just like they were in the first three centuries A.D.

I am not complaining about the winds of change on the cultural horizon. God has always used persecution to purify the church and expand the reach of the gospel. You may remember in the book of Acts that the message about Jesus didn’t spread from Jerusalem until persecution broke out with the stoning of Stephen.

Even today, regions of the world where the church has grown most rapidly are places where having your name on the membership roll puts a target on your back. What if there were no first amendment? What if to be a Christian meant the loss of position, loss of property, and potentially loss of life? I’m not sure I would be a member, much less a preacher.

CONSIDERING THE COST

I wonder how many of us have considered the cost of what we are called to give up of this world in order to gain Jesus as our all-sufficient hope in this life and the next. Or do I want Jesus in addition to the comforts of the world? What if I had to choose?

I’m not trying to scare you. I just want us to be realistic so that we can prepare ourselves and our children to live as a missional community in a post-Christian culture in much the same way as believers in the early church, who were not surprised by persecution. They expected it.

In fact, Paul told his pastoral protégé, Timothy, if anyone wants to live as a faithful follower of Jesus, they will be persecuted. He didn’t say they might be persecuted. They will be persecuted.

You may have already felt it. A teen committed to Jesus may not be invited to the party. A university professor may lose his job or not be hired at all due to her profession of faith. Pastors may be charged with hate speech and churches lose tax-exempt status for teaching basic biblical doctrines. Who knows, fines and imprisonment could be waiting for us down the road.

PERSECUTION AS BLESSING

If you are prepared to suffer for the sake of King Jesus, be encouraged. In the Sermon on the Mount, he makes a promise of present blessing and future reward for those who become objects of reproach on his behalf. 

“10 “Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. 11 Blessed are you when others revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account. 12 Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for so they persecuted the prophets who were before you” (Matthew 5:10-12).

The apostles must have believed this. In Acts 5:41, after being brought before the Jewish Sanhedrin and beaten for preaching about the risen Christ in the Temple, we read this commentary, “Then they [the apostles] left the presence of the council [after being beaten], rejoicing that they were counted worthy to suffer dishonor for the name.”[ii]

They didn’t file lawsuits or organize a boycott. They celebrated.

When was the last time you celebrated being the object of abuse for the sake of Christ? I don’t know if I have ever rejoiced for suffering dishonor or having someone slander me. Instead, I’ve complained and felt sorry for myself. What if I could see opposition from the perspective of blessing perspective?

Did you notice what Jesus said about the source of persecution? “Blessed are you when others revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely.” Who are the “others” of whom he speaks? He tells us in verse 12, “For in the same way, they persecuted the prophets.”

Who persecuted the Old Testament prophets? Not the Romans. Not the Assyrians or Babylonians or any foreign oppressor. “They” are members of the covenant community. Paul calls them false brothers (wolves in sheep’s clothing) who, rather than repenting of their sins, kill God’s messengers for speaking truth “they” don’t want to hear.

This has been the story from the beginning.

* Able was persecuted by his brother, Cain.

* Joseph was persecuted by his brothers.

* Moses was persecuted by the Hebrew rabble in the desert.

* The prophets were persecuted and killed by the congregations they served.

* Paul was persecuted, not only by the Romans, but especially by his fellow Jews, whom he calls his brothers.

* Believers in the church were persecuted by “false believers,” wolves in sheep’s clothing.

PURPOSE IN THE SCARS

As depressing as it is to think of how pervasive persecution has been and will continue to be, let us not forget that, like all suffering in the Christian life, persecution is not without purpose. The Lord has a purpose for every scar inflicted upon the people of God. We know this because of the purpose of the scars inflicted upon Jesus.

Earlier I asked, “Have any of us really considered the cost of what we are called to give up of this world in order to gain Jesus?” The reason some of us are unwilling to be persecuted for Jesus is that we haven’t fully appreciated what he was willing to give up in order to gain us.

He left heaven. He disrobed of his glory. Ultimately, he sacrificed his very life. By allowing himself to be mistreated by his own people and eventually, willingly crucified by the state, the scars on his hands, feet, and side represent the plan of the Father to rescue sinners from the hell we deserve.

Jesus was persecuted for me. He was spat upon, stripped, and beaten for me. He was cursed, ridiculed, and abused for me. He was crucified with nails for me.

I suppose believing that is what enabled Paul to conclude his letter to the Galatians with a benediction. Even though many of them had set themselves against him as enemies, reviling and slandering him, his final words are these: “The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with your spirit.”

Whether they are in the church or in the world, may we give the same grace to our enemies. That they may wonder why we respond to insult with kindness and accusation with blessing. That they eventually will ask, “Why do you welcome the scars?” To which we will reply, simply, “Because Jesus welcomed the scars for us.”

POSTSCRIPT: Domestic violence is not the kind of persecution anyone should endure. If you are the victim of such abuse, you are encouraged to seek safety and protection by calling the police and a domestic abuse hotline.

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[i] In 1 Corinthians 4:11-13, he describes more of his experience, “11 To the present hour we hunger and thirst, we are poorly dressed and buffeted and homeless, 12 and we labor, working with our own hands. When reviled, we bless; when persecuted, we endure; 13 when slandered, we entreat. We have become, and are still, like the scum of the world, the refuse of all things.”

[ii] Maybe their example inspired believers who received the letter of Hebrews. “32 Recall the former days when, after you were enlightened, you endured a hard struggle with sufferings, 33 sometimes being publicly exposed to reproach and affliction, and sometimes being partners with those so treated. 34 For you had compassion on those in prison, and you joyfully accepted the plundering of your property, since you knew that you yourselves had a better possession and an abiding one” (Hebrews 10:32-34).  

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A QUESTION

There is a lake in the northern part of our county where I enjoy walking. Surrounded by mountains, it is a beautiful place to slow down, pray, listen, and just be. This past week on my first lap around the one-mile loop, I question entered my mind that stopped me in my tracks. 

“Do I love Jesus?” Not, do I know a lot about Jesus or do I preach about Jesus? But do I love Jesus?

Silly question, right? I am a pastor. Of course, I love Jesus.

But how do I know that I love him? And what about you? How do you know if you really love Jesus? What is the evidence of love? By what standard could I be accused of being a Jesus-lover? Not just a Jesus preacher or Jesus follower. But a Jesus lover.

I’m not sure I had ever stopped to reflect on that specific, but hugely significant question. Maybe I have subconsciously resisted it, not wanting to face the answer. 

MORE THAN JUST YOUR NAME ON THE ROLL

As I began to contemplate my love (or lack of love) for Jesus, I realized there are many passages that assume those who are true disciples are not nominal Christians. There is more to their relationship with Jesus than having their name on a church membership roll, or reciting a doctrinal affirmation like the Apostles Creed, or singing hymns, and or participating in other religious activities. To be sure, these are good and beneficial for believers.

But consider the promise of Romans 8:28, “We know that God causes everything to work together for the good of those who love God and are called according to his purpose for them” (NLT). According to this text, the hope of the Lord’s sovereign plan weaving all the pieces of our lives for ultimate blessing is not a promise for humanity in general or those who are members of a church. The promise is reserved for those who love God. 

After the apostle Peter’s famous crash and burn moment of denial on the evening of Jesus’ crucifixion, he is reinstated. Part of the informal restoration ceremony includes Jesus asking Peter three times, “Do you love me?” It grieved Peter to face the question because he knew that his actions had betrayed his professed devotion to the Lord. The fact that he was so grieved proved Peter really did love Jesus.

THE BASELINE

In John 14:15, Jesus makes it clear that those who love him will treasure his wisdom and want to follow in his ways. He says, “If you love me, you will obey my commands.” In verses 23-24 of the same chapter, a similar refrain is heard, “If anyone loves me, he will keep my word… [but] 24 whoever does not love me does not keep my words.”

Based on these statements, it would appear as if love is proved genuine by obedience. On one level, it definitely is. We might consider practical obedience the baseline of love. Yet we know it is possible to obey someone and to not love them.

For example, I don’t avoid speeding out of a love of the government but out of fear of punishment. I don’t want to get a ticket and have to pay a fine.  

This is the way man-made “religion” works. It’s law without grace. The formula is simple. Obey God and you’ll be loved and blessed by God. Disobey God and you’ll be judged and condemned. In “religion,” my standing with God ultimately comes down to an evaluation of my actions—my obedience versus disobedience. In such a scenario, fear of punishment becomes the driving motive for keeping the law for whatever religion it is. Obey, or else.

But Christianity does not work that way. In the gospel, law is not an end but a means, as the purpose of the law is to lead us to Jesus, where we trade our unrighteousness for his gift-righteousness. Our failures and sins are intended to reveal our need for the blood of a substitutionary sacrifice. 

Because of grace, my standing with God does not come down to the quality of my actions but to the quality of Jesus’ actions as my substitute. He obeyed the law in my place. He suffered the penalty my sin deserved so that I could be forgiven and reconciled with God, not as Judge but as Father.

* In man-made, law-only “religion” (like legalistic Christianity, Islam, Buddhism, Mormonism, etc.), we obey in order to be accepted and loved. 

* But in the gospel (true, grace-centered Christianity), we obey because we are already accepted and loved.

This means for those who truly love Jesus, we deeply long to follow his ways. Like Peter, we are grieved when we don’t.  But fear of punishment is not the motive for obedience.  

TRANSFORMING LOVE

In 2 Corinthians 5:14, Paul reveals the motive that drove his ministry, saying, “Christ’s love compels us.” There was something spiritually transformative about being the recipient of God’s love that modifies our motives for obedience.

A couple of chapters earlier, in 2 Corinthians 3:18, Paul writes, “We, who with unveiled faces all reflect the Lord’s glory, are being transformed into his likeness with ever-increasing glory.” The Greek word for transformed is metamorphoō (μεταμορφόω) from which we get the English word metamorphosis. Metamorphoō is composed of two words, meta and morph. Meta = great and morph = change. Like an earthbound caterpillar weaves a cocoon only to emerge with the ability to fly, so the believer is transformed when enveloped by the love of Jesus. 

Theologically, we call this transformation sanctification. Like a butterfly progressively changes in the cocoon, we experience a progressive change in our lives. If the goal of our change is to be more like Jesus (“made into his likeness”), then sanctification is nothing less than learning to love like Jesus—to love the Father like Jesus loves the Father and love other sinners the way Jesus loves me. 

But how do we learn how to love like Jesus? Like we learn anything. Not just by reading about it. We learn through experience. If I want to become a fly-fisherman, I need to get out on the river with a guide who can show me how to properly cast my line. The experience is essential.

In the same way, if I am going to love like Jesus, I need to be loved by Jesus. The experience is essential. 

A PERSONAL ENCOUNTER

This is why a personal encounter with the affection of God is the catalyst for spiritual metamorphosis! Think about it. What if the love of God were just functional—a kind of fact without feeling. 

Don’t get me wrong. The objective, fact of God’s love for me is an amazing reality upon which I am grateful to stand. But the subjective, emotive affection of the Father toward me like a parent toward a child is something even more. 

We as parents would do anything for our children, risking life and limb to protect them. It is a demonstrative love that cannot be quantified. How much more is this exponentially true of the Father’s love for us.  To know and feel the Father’s love is what transforms the heart.

To love Jesus with my whole heart is to have the very core of my being affected in such a way that transforms not only my actions but also my motivations and affections. In this way, loving Jesus is both objective and subjective. Granted, the bedrock foundation is objective. God did not just say, “I love you.” He showed it with the cross, an undeniable expression of divine affection. Upon that rational, factual foundation, our emotions are stirred in response. As Jonathan Edwards said, quite bluntly if not shockingly,

“He who has no [true spiritual] affection [for Jesus], is in a state of spiritual death, and is wholly destitute of the powerful, quickening, saving influences of the Spirit of God upon his heart.”

In plain language, if I do not feel any real affection for Jesus, I do not love him. I emphasize the word any, because just like a mustard seed of faith can move mountains, so can a mustard seed of love for Christ. What is important is not the size of faith and love but the object of faith and love.

LUKEWARM LOVE

In Revelation 3:15-16, the church at Laodicea received a word of warning from the Lord, 

“15 I know your deeds, that you are neither cold nor hot. I wish you were either one or the other! 16 So, because you are lukewarm—neither hot nor cold—I am about to spit you out of my mouth.”

The Laodiceans were very religious. They went to church regularly and did a lot of ministry activities. But they didn’t really love Jesus. Their affections were room temperature. Not hot nor cold. They were indifferent. 

Nobody orders room temperature coffee. No spouse wants to settle for lukewarm indifference in their marriage. It is the same with a love for Jesus. 

Even as a pastor, I confess to having a lukewarm love for Jesus on numerous occasions. Maybe you are lukewarm now. If so, what can you do? 

What I have learned is that moving from lukewarm to hot is not something you can do. There is not a “hot” knob on the tub of the heart. Essentially, you can’t really apply this lesson. You can only put yourself in a posture to receive the metamorphosis God desires for us. 

THE ONLY WAY TO LOVE JESUS

As we’ve said, the only way to really love Jesus is to be really loved by Jesus. And that is the problem with many professing Christians. It’s my problem, too. 

My love for Jesus is lukewarm because I think his love for me is lukewarm.  

Because of the remnants of man-made, law-heavy religion left in my heart, I have a hard time believing his love for me as a sinner is hot, intense, unbridled, and unrelenting toward me. When I think of the degree to which I am loved, questions put up barriers to prevent me from allowing myself to be fully loved.

Have I done enough? Am I committed enough? Do I love Jesus enough?

Those questions loom large in my heart when the gospel is eclipsed with law, duty, and fear. Because the cross tells me, without static, it is not whether I have done enough. I haven’t. Thankfully, Jesus has done more than enough. It is not that I am committed enough but that Jesus is committed enough. It is not that I love Jesus enough but that he loves me enough.

What could happen if I began to rest in his doing, his commitment, and his love for me? What if I could be thoroughly convinced that his shed blood gets the final word over my soul? 

I believe that is what the Holy Spirit wants to impress upon your heart. Through the cross of the risen Christ, he wants you to know and believe you are forgiven without qualification and loved without hesitation—right now, in your sinful condition. Because the blood of Christ covers you. 

The apostle John wrote, “We love him because he first loved us.” When I begin to rest in the height, depth, width, and breadth of his holy, burning, pure love, the mustard seed of love will begin to grow in my heart, producing the good fruit of greater and greater love for the one who first loved me.

All to the praise of his glorious grace!

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THE RAPPELER’S CHIEF CONCERN

I have only repelled a handful of times in my life. But each time has been uniquely memorable. Stepping off a cliff and walking down the rock face parallel to the ground is a thrilling experience. As you might guess, the overriding concern anyone who rappels has when stepping off the side of a cliff with a rope tied around one’s waist is making sure the other end of the rope is securely fastened to an object that will not give way. 

For Paul, that object was not his morality. Not the number of churches he started or people converted under his preaching. It was the cross of Christ. 

It is not a stretch to say that the message of the cross was the defining truth of the apostle’s life. It was his anchor to which his rappelling rope was connected that gave him a tremendous sense of gospel security and boldness.

I don’t know if he ever rappelled, but in a lecture to the students at his Pastor’s College, the famous London preacher, Charles Spurgeon remarked, "I pray that our ministry, and mine especially, would be tied and tethered to the cross." I think Spurgeon got that idea from Paul in Galatians 6. 

Why is the cross so central to the Christian? What does it say about me if the cross is not the defining truth of my life? What would change if it were? Let’s consider some of these questions as we read Galatians 6:11-16. 

11 See what large letters I use as I write to you with my own hand! 12 Those who want to make a good impression outwardly are trying to compel you to be circumcised. The only reason they do this is to avoid being persecuted for the cross of Christ. 13 Not even those who are circumcised obey the law, yet they want you to be circumcised that they may boast about your flesh. 14 May I never boast except in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, through which the world has been crucified to me, and I to the world. 15 Neither circumcision nor uncircumcision means anything; what counts is a new creation. 16 Peace and mercy to all who follow this rule, even to the Israel of God. 

PASSION IN HIS PEN

When communicating with the churches in the New Testament, Paul would dictate his letters using a scribe called an amanuensis. In this case, however, Paul took the pen and wrote the conclusion in his own hand. In verse 11, when he mentions writing with “such large letters,” he intends for us to feel the passion of his words. Without the ability to underscore, make italics, or bold text, using extra-large letters would provide the emphasis he needed to make sure his readers didn’t miss something significant.

For Paul, what was most significant was the doctrine of salvation by grace alone through Christ alone. That is what the cross represented. A Savior who substituted himself in death to redeem sinners from the law’s demand for justice. The cross is the place, as one theologian commented, where justice and mercy kissed. 

Throughout this letter, Paul has been contrasting grace and faith with the false doctrine that demanded human works be added to the blood of Jesus for one’s salvation to be effective. In the Galatian context, the works included receiving the mark of circumcision. For us, it could be any number of requirements, ranging from raw moral obedience to the quality and quantity of one’s prayer life. 

Practical obedience to Jesus is a good thing. So is prayer. But neither are meritorious. They may be profitable and beneficial, but they do not contribute an iota to our status before God as forgiven sons and daughters. That status is secured through the cross.

Paul wrote the letter to the Galatians because he was deeply grieved by the legalistic teaching of grace plus works for salvation, knowing that such a theological error would have devastating effects in the church. He foresaw not only that individual believers would lose their joy, but also that the fellowship would implode with infighting and a spirit of mission would evaporate. Sadly, it all came true.

The solution to fix their problems would be found in their ability to boast. The Galatians needed to brag better. And so do we. Let me explain. 

TWO KINDS OF BOASTING

According to English dictionaries, to boast is “to talk with excessive pride and self-satisfaction about [someone’s] achievements, possessions, or abilities.” My boast will either be in my achievements or in the achievements of Jesus. It is my observation that the professing believer begins to make spiritual progress when they begin to hate their self-boasting and learn to love bragging about Jesus.

This is what we see in Paul’s conversion. In Philippians 3:4-9, he contrasts his former boast with his new one, showing us how the gospel shifts the source of our pride and satisfaction away from ourselves and onto Jesus. He writes,

If anyone else thinks he has reasons to [boast] in the flesh, I have more: 5 circumcised on the eighth day, of the people of Israel, of the tribe of Benjamin, a Hebrew of Hebrews; in regard to the law, a Pharisee; 6 as for zeal, persecuting the church; as for legalistic righteousness, faultless. 7 But whatever was to my profit I now consider loss for the sake of Christ. 8 What is more, I consider everything a loss compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them rubbish, that I may gain Christ 9 and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which is through faith in Christ—the righteousness that comes from God and is by faith.

IT WILL COST YOU

To boast in Christ sounds spiritually romantic on the surface. But did you notice what it cost him to exchange righteousnesses? He took everything he formerly prized and used for a sense of identity and labeled it garbage. 

It is not that our cultural heritage, theological knowledge, positions of leadership, life skills, and former achievements are in themselves worthless pieces of junk. Not at all. But if I make anything my functional righteousness—something that gives me a feeling of value and worth— the only way to remove it from its place of prominence is to tear it down. It does no good to gently replace an idol. 

The Israelites in the Old Testament were guilty of setting up idols on high places on various occasions. The Lord did not tell them to carefully replace the idols, but to tear them down, smashing them into nothing. That is what Paul is doing in Philippians 3. By sharing his own testimony of what it cost him to receive Christ, Paul teaches that we cannot have two sources of righteousness. 

It is like trying to have two favorite sports teams in the same league. To be a true fan rather than a casual fan, one team must have your absolute allegiance.

It is the same way with righteousness. I can only truly boast in my achievements or in the achievements of Jesus. Not both.

EVIDENCE OF THE NEW CREATION

By the way, boasting in the cross isn’t just a religious slogan. It is practical evidence of spiritual regeneration. When Paul mentioned all that matters is “a new creation” in verse 13, he sounds an alarm of sorts. If my true boast is in something other than that cross, I may not be a true believer.

In Scripture, the old self represents the unregenerate life that seeks righteousness in worldly achievements, possessions, and abilities. On the other hand, the new self (the “new creation”), represents the regenerate life that seeks righteousness, not in one’s own merits, but in the merits of Christ. 

The honest believer will admit that there are times when he boasts in the cross and times when he caves to the desires of the flesh and boasts in himself. So, what should you do if you are convicted that your primary boast in this life has not been in the cross but in a Jesus substitute? What if your true identity is not derived from Jesus but from an idol?

CALL TO ACTION: NAME, CONFESS, AND EXCHANGE THE IDOL

First, name the idol. 

Is the idol wealth, success, comfort, being right, reputation and recognition, people-pleasing, popularity, or some other means to achieve human praise? Wealth, success, and popularity are not bad things in themselves. But when I use them as a source of righteousness and identity, they become idols—or Jesus substitutes. So, name the idol. Be warned, though. This is much more difficult than it sounds. Naming the idol means you are about to have to tear it down.

Second, confess the idol. 

Paul said he had been crucified to the world and the world to him. I think this is his way of saying, “I consider all forms of self-righteousness garbage compared to the gift-righteousness of Christ.” So, whatever idols you name, just be honest and confess them to the Lord, saying, “I have sought to find my life in [fill in the blank] instead of being found in Jesus. I have used [fill in the blank with the name of the idol] to bring me glory and bring honor to my own name. I abhor this deceptive Jesus substitute and cast it down from the throne of my heart.” That confession is what we call repentance.

We’ve named the idol and confessed it. But there is one more part to the process. Up to this point, we’ve felt the pain of our sin but now, we get to experience the thrill of grace.

Third, exchange the idol. 

Can you imagine a car dealer inviting you to trade in a burned-out piece of junk for a new Range Rover for an even swap? It would sound too good to be true. What’s the catch? With the gospel, there isn’t one. Seriously. It sounds too good to be true. But it is true. The gospel invites you to trade in rubbish for a priceless treasure by exchanging the idol by receiving God’s gift-righteousness by faith. 

Name the idol. Confess the idol. Exchange the idol. 

Then you will begin to boast in the cross, with Paul, taking every opportunity “to talk with excessive pride and self-satisfaction about Jesus’ achievements, possessions, and abilities.” The world needs Christians who love to brag about Jesus. This is what your kids and grandchildren need to see in their parents and grandparents. Boastful Christians is what our community needs. So, as a church and individual believers, let’s make it our aim to boast — but only in the cross of Jesus.

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Caught in a Trap

I’m a fan of the television show Life Below Zero, which chronicles the lives of several people who live near or above the arctic circle in Alaska. It is really cold up there. Thus, the name of the show—Life Below Zero. As in zero degrees. 

These folks talk about subsistence living. Rather than holding down typical day jobs, most of the Below Zeroers survive by hunting, fishing, and trapping animals for food. Some of them have built their homes by hand. It is old-school frontier living.

In one episode, a snow hare is caught in a steel trap. The trapper is thrilled. The rabbit, not so much. Apart from the mercy of the trapper, Mr. Rabbit is going to be stew for supper. 

This is the image Paul paints for us in the first five verses of Galatians 6. But it is not a rabbit that is caught in a trap. It is a fellow believer. And the trap is not steel; it is sin. 

The specific sin is not the issue. 

The question for us is how we will react to someone else’s sin. Will I feel anger and contempt? Maybe, like the survivalist, I’ll be thrilled to see someone else caught in the trap, savoring their thrashing as a holier-than-thou moment of self-righteous satisfaction. Under the guise of a “concern” or prayer request, maybe I will share their demise with others as a juicy morsel of Satan-glazed gossip.

Or will I feel compassion and sadness, knowing that it very well could be me caught in the trap? 

Those are our options, contempt or compassion. Of course, we know that the call of the gospel is to help heal wounded sinners. Not kick them when they are down. This is Paul’s counsel in Galatians 6:1-5.

Galatians 6:1-5

Brothers, if someone is caught in a sin, you who are spiritual should restore him gently. But watch yourself, or you also may be tempted. 2 Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ. 3 If anyone thinks he is something when he is nothing, he deceives himself. 4 Each one should test his own actions. Then he can take pride in himself, without comparing himself to somebody else, 5 for each one should carry his own load.

Galatians 5 introduced the theme of living according to the influence of the Spirit in contrast to living according to the influence of the flesh. If the flesh produces dead works of sin the Spirit produces the good fruit of sanctification. And of all the fruit of the Spirit, the first in line is love, what Paul calls in verse 2, “the law of Christ.” 

The apostle John records Jesus in John 13:34, “A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another.” Love is the “law” or command of Christ, because to love is to be like Jesus. In Galatians 6, Paul simply provides an application for what it looks like to love a fellow believer in a practical way by laying out a process for helping set believers free from the snare. 

A Gentle, Humble Approach

This process begins with a gentle, humble approach, as verse 1 says, “Restore him gently.” The noun form of the Greek word used for gently is translated in the Beatitudes of the Sermon on the Mount as “meek.” To be “meek” is to be humble and lowly.

We may think of Jesus’ own words concerning how he treats the bruised and broken, ensnared, and burdened sinner in Matthew 11:28-30, where he says, “28 “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. 29 Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble (or lowly) in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. 30 For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” The word Jesus uses, “gentle,” is the same word in Galatians 6:1, “restore him gently.” In other words, unlike a Pharisee, treat the sinner like Jesus would treat the sinner. 

As I consider my approach, my attitude toward my brother or sister caught in sin is of paramount importance. Rather than focus on their condition, I probably ought to check my own. Am I feeling anger and contempt or, like Jesus, filled with sympathy, sadness, and compassion? Is my motive to gloat or to administer grace? 

The Greek word for restore is katartizō (καταρτίζω), from which we get the English word, cauterize. Even back in antiquity, cauterization was used as a medical treatment to close open wounds by means of a hot branding iron. While cauterization may be painful, the result stops the bleeding, prevents infection, and potentially saves the life of the injured. In extra-biblical Greek texts, katartizō is also used for setting broken bones, while in the Gospels, it refers to mending torn fishing nets.  

Whether we go with the image of cauterization, setting broken bones, or mending torn nets, katartizō provides a helpful context for deciding what kinds of sins require another believer to intervene. We are not to nit-pick or deputize ourselves as part of the sin police. I think Paul envisions something significant, as if the person trapped is bleeding out and in desperate need of having their soul mended.

Burden Bearing

Obviously, we are not talking about a literal physical injury. But if you have ever been exposed for a public sin, especially one that hurts someone else, you know how powerful thoughts of condemnation, failure, and regret can weigh upon you. This is the burden of verse 2, where Paul exhorts us, “Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way, you will fulfill the law of Christ.”

The way a burden-bearing believer helps set a trapped believer free is by applying the cauterizing blood of Jesus to the sin. The goal of restoration is not just to change their behavior but to convince the wounded that God’s grace is greater than their sin. For believers, the cross gets the final word on all of our failures because the burden of condemnation we feel already has been borne by Jesus on that cross. 

Maybe we can see why Paul provides a caveat for those qualified to administer the cauterization, saying in verse 1, “You who are spiritual should restore him.” Like a surgeon, it takes someone with care and skill to cauterize a wound. It takes a mature believer who has had his own wounds cauterized by the blood of Christ.

The Greek word for spiritual is pneumatikos (πνευματικός). The root of the word is pneuma, which means spirit. When we put holy (hagio) with pneuma, we get Holy Spirit.

The Theological Dictionary of the New Testament defines the Holy Spirit as “[The person in the godhead] who mediates understanding of the gospel of the cross… [a] knowledge relates to the act of divine love... and the miracle of believing that God is for us in Jesus Christ. Hence the Spirit is the Spirit of faith.” (Theological Dictionary of the New Testament, Abridged) 

Therefore, “the one who is spiritual” is someone who has received knowledge of the cross and is functionally living out the implications of God’s grace to himself as a sinner. For him, grace is not something that was needed in the past but is his primary need in the present. His testimony is not that he was a sinner but that he is a sinner. 

While it is true that sin no longer defines the believer’s identity, the flesh remains, and the mature believer is well aware of the danger that lurks within himself. It is this self-awareness that enables the consciously Spirit-led believer to heed the warning in verse 1 to “watch yourself, or you also may be tempted.” 

The Greek word for “watch” carries the sense of observing carefully. In spiritual terms, we are talking about what Paul emphasized in the previous chapter of Galatians: self-awareness of the flesh and the need to walk step by step guided by the Spirit. The “spiritual” or mature believer is well aware that he or she could easily fall into the same trap, regardless of the sin. They do not approach the ensnared with a sense of spiritual superiority, religious haughtiness, or moral holier-than-thouness, but with a discernible humility and gentleness.

The Process of Restoration

A gentle approach may begin with a simple acknowledgment of the situation. “I heard about [the incident]. How are you?” If they are immediately defensive and not yet feeling the pain of their condition, let them know you are there for them and want to help in any way possible. But there is not much you can do if someone is not under conviction of sin. It is not your job to bring someone else to conviction and feel their need for the blood of Jesus. That is the job of the Holy Spirit.

But if they give evidence of being under conviction by expressing remorse and regret, you may have the opportunity to help. Consider requesting permission to ask a few questions. If they grant permission, a starting place might look like this:

* How are you feeling about what happened?

* What voices are you hearing? 

* What do you think Jesus would say?

It is possible that the believer under conviction will be dripping with guilt, feeling as if Jesus is disappointed, maybe even angry and disgusted. But that is a lie from the enemy. We know this because Jesus told a parable about a son who left home to squander his inheritance and found himself ensnared by sin. 

What was the Father’s heart toward this sinful son when he caught a glimpse of him on the horizon walking home, dressed in rags and literally smelling like a pigsty? Did he turn his son away? Did he lecture him? Did he make him grovel and do penance? 

No. A thousand times, no! 

He ran to meet him, embrace him, and kiss him. The Father threw a party, giving his returned-home son new sandals, a ring of belonging, and a robe of honor. 

This is not what we expect because this kind of dealing with a sinner is so rarely experienced. But such is the staggering kindness, compassion, grace, mercy, and love of God. This is the power of the gospel.

Evaluating Our Experience

Coaches know that there is little progress made in athletics without review and evaluation of the previous game. As someone has said, “Sometimes you win and sometimes you learn.” I like that a lot. 

Verse 4 is Paul’s way of calling for a performance review and evaluation. That is the meaning of the word “test,” when he writes, “4 Each one should test his own actions. Then he can take pride in himself, without comparing himself to somebody else.” 

Wait just a minute. Did he just say it is okay for us to be prideful? Well, yes and no. The Greek word for “take pride” has both a negative and a positive connotation. For example, in 1 Corinthians 5:6, Paul rebukes the church, saying, “Your boasting is not good.” Then, using the same word in 2 Corinthians 1:14, he writes, “On the day when the Lord Jesus returns, you will boast in us in the same way we boast in you.” The idea of the second type of boasting is a kind of thankful celebration. 

In context, when we evaluate our engagement with a believer trapped under the weight of condemnation, if we have been able to bring relief and restoration of grace to their lives, we should celebrate with gratitude that the Spirit enabled us to participate in such a glorious occasion as a repentant son or daughter coming home.

The New Living Translation captures the essence of what Paul is trying to communicate in verses 4-5. Using colloquial language, the NLT reads, “Pay careful attention to your own work, for then you will get the satisfaction of a job well done, and you won’t need to compare yourself to anyone else. 5 For we are each responsible for our own conduct.” 

Coming Home

It may very well be that consideration of your own actions has brought you to a point of conviction. You are the one trapped in sin. And maybe nobody else knows. Except for Jesus. 

If you are in that place of feeling the weight of your guilt, do not believe the lies of the enemy. Look to the burden-bearer whose mission was to rescue you, heal you, and set you free from the crushing load of sin by shedding his own blood in your place. 

Will you be the prodigal son? As you crest the hill, will you look into your Father’s eyes and behold his thrill of joy at your return? Will you let him give you the ring of belonging and clothe you in your elder brother’s robe of perfect righteousness? Will you let the blood of Jesus be your life right here and now? 

O sinner, please just come home and be his. 

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Mistaking the Enemy

Late on a dark and muggy Saturday night in July of 2013, a gang fight broke out in the Gage Park neighborhood of Chicago. Apparently, someone identified a passing car as belonging to a rival gang and threw a brick at it. In retaliation, the car sped up and swerved into the crowd, striking twenty-year-old Jose Ibarra. By the time police arrived on the scene, Jose was dead. 

When the dust settled and his hoodie was pulled back, members of the gang realized that they had made a terrible mistake. The car didn’t belong to a rival, but to someone in their own gang. Jose was the victim of friendly fire. 

The same thing can happen in a local church. While the church isn’t a gang, it is possible for us to turn on our own, injuring each other with a similar kind of friendly fire. Most of the time, just like the gang-related death in Chicago eight years ago, friendly fire among Christians is a case of misidentifying the real enemy. It is the same for marriages. Among roommates. Even in politics. 

It is vitally important that we identify the real enemy in any conflict, lest we aim our fire on the wrong adversary. 

When we turn to the Bible, we discover that my true antagonist may not be who I assume it is. It is not my spouse. It is not someone at work. It is not a fellow believer or a stubborn neighbor. My worst enemy is not even the devil.  

Who does that leave? Paul tells us in Galatians 5:13-26. 

13 You, my brothers, were called to be free. But do not use your freedom as an opportunity for the sinful nature; rather, serve one another in love. 14 The entire law is summed up in a single command: “Love your neighbor as yourself.” 15 If you keep on biting and devouring each other, watch out or you will be destroyed by each other. 

16 So I say, live by the Spirit, and you will not gratify the desires of the sinful nature. 17 For the sinful nature desires what is contrary to the Spirit, and the Spirit what is contrary to the sinful nature. They are in conflict with each other, so that you do not do what you want. 18 But if you are led by the Spirit, you are not under law. 

19 The acts of the sinful nature are obvious: sexual immorality, impurity and debauchery; 20 idolatry and witchcraft; hatred, discord, jealousy, fits of rage, selfish ambition, dissensions, factions 21 and envy; drunkenness, orgies, and the like. I warn you, as I did before, that those who live like this will not inherit the kingdom of God. 

22 But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, 23 gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law. 24 Those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the sinful nature with its passions and desires. 25 Since we live by the Spirit, let us keep in step with the Spirit. 26 Let us not become conceited, provoking and envying each other. 

The Sinful Nature

Toddlers do not need to be taught how to throw tantrums. Neither do we need to be taught how to lie, cheat, steal, gossip, and kill. Whether as children or adults, these things come naturally because the inborn human disposition is to think and act according to what Paul calls “the sinful nature.” 

The term “sinful nature” is translated from a single Greek word, sarx. Sarx literally means flesh. But when Paul uses this word, he is not referring to outward human skin but to internal human corruption—a natural human condition that is predisposed to sin. 

If I have a worst enemy, it is my own sarx. Not yours or anyone else’s. All I have to do is look in the mirror. My flesh is my own worst enemy.

In verses 13-15, Paul attributes the relational chaos in the Galatian churches to the outworking of the flesh. The members of the churches were deceived into putting gospel freedom above serving each other with sacrificial, selfless love. When I preached on this text back in May of 2020, my warning was, unless believers were willing to sacrifice certain freedoms and do what was uncomfortable to love the vulnerable in the context of Covid, churches would be ripe for the devil to divide and conquer. Sadly, we have seen that play out in too many places.

But it is not just churches that are in danger, because Covid is just one of a million “opportunities” for the sinful nature to cause believers to throw bricks at the wrong car, creating conflict that could be avoided if we took aim at the right culprit.  Since I am a brick thrower, too, the sooner we all recognize the true enemy is the flesh, the sooner healing and restoration can take place.

However, casing fire on one another is more challenging than we may think. After all, verses 16-18 describe the flesh as at war with the Holy Spirit, "For the sinful nature desires what is contrary to the Spirit, and the Spirit what is contrary to the sinful nature. They are in conflict with each other." Yes, the devil is an enemy. But he can have no influence in my life without the partnership of my enemy within. 

Maybe we need to repeat it. The devil is not my worst enemy. My flesh is my worst enemy. 

If I am blaming anyone else or defending myself for the conflicts I’m fighting, I have misidentified the foe and am fighting the wrong adversary. This truth is reinforced by verses 19-21, which indict the flesh not only as the source of immoral acts but of seemingly lesser sins such as spiritual pride and divisiveness. According to Scripture, they are not lesser sins at all. Then, in verses 22-26, Paul contrasts the dead works of the flesh with the living fruit of the Spirit, which serves as evidence of true regeneration. 

In his book on worldviews, Jeff Baldwin makes the case that of all the monsters the world has known or imagined, the flesh (the sin nature) is by far the deadliest and most dangerous. The terminology of verse 15 even sounds monstrous and violent, as believers, living under the influence of the flesh, were biting, devouring, and destroying each other.

Isn’t that what is happening today? It seems as if the flesh is on a feeding frenzy. Whether in television media or on social media, people are biting and devouring each other with accusations and insults. It is tearing communities, churches, and families apart.

But who is the real enemy? Where should I start the investigation? Who should be on my short list of suspects? 

Me. I am my worst enemy.

What If I Took This Seriously?

What if I took that seriously? What if I believed my biggest problem is not with you but is in me? How would that change my relationship with you? How would it change how I parent my kids and how I engage with fellow believers and with the world?

I can think of a few ways. 

First, an awareness of my flesh will cause me to suspect myself before I charge someone else. 

You know how CSI shows work. A crime is committed and the investigation begins. Eventually, suspects are ruled out one by one until the true culprit is arrested. An awareness of my flesh should cause me to suspect that I could very well be the culprit.

What percentage of marital strife would cease if I were to investigate, and interrogate my flesh before I investigated my spouse? What flames of accusation and insult could be extinguished if I checked my own heart for the influence of the flesh? What wars would cease in the church if we stopped blaming, but rather were honest about the prideful self-rightness that lurks within? 

An awareness of my flesh will cause me to suspect myself before I charge someone else. 

Second, an awareness of the flesh will necessitate I consciously submit to the influence of the Holy Spirit.

This is what Paul means in verse 16 when he writes, "Live by the Spirit, and you will not gratify the desires of the sinful nature." To live by the Spirit is to submit or yield to the Spirit's influence. The Greek word translated "live" in verse 16 is peripateō (περιπατέω). Literally, the word means to walk—to take a step forward. 

Whatever the path is before us, we will be led by either our flesh or the Spirit. Will I confess my sin or their sin? Will I forgive as I have been forgiven or will I deny the cross and become embittered? Will I give grace or withhold it? Will I respond to the comment with empathy and kindness or with pompous vitriol or snarky contempt? Will I manifest the dead works of the flesh or the living fruit of the Spirit?

For every action and every word we speak, we have options. To yield to the flesh or the Spirit. But it is only when I am aware of my flesh that I will consciously submit to the influence of the Spirit. 

Third, an awareness of the flesh will drive me to continually crucify my flesh with ongoing repentance. 

In verse 24, we read that "those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires." To crucify the flesh is to kill it by means of repentance, where I simply confess the deeds of the flesh as evil and hand them over to Jesus, where they are nailed to the cross. In Romans 8:3b, Paul says it like this, “God [sent] his own Son in the likeness of sinful man to be a sin offering. And so he condemned sin in sinful man.” The phrase “sinful man” in English in the original Greek text is (you guessed it) sarx. Here the theological definition of flesh reverts to the physical, where my sin is condemned in the actual body of Jesus. 

When a sinner is reborn and becomes a disciple of Jesus through initial repentance, it is as if we literally crucified all our sin at once by hurling it all upon Jesus. Now, living as a Christian is an ongoing crucifixion of the flesh, not that we may be saved again but so that the power of sin may be subdued. 

I think it was a Puritan theologian who said, “I will never have power of sin until I believe it has been forgiven”—incinerated once and for all. Now, cleansed of sin by blood of Jesus and covered in his perfect righteousness, I am able to look my flesh in the eyes and declare with gospel confidence, “You are dead to me!”

We will not say that just once but over and over. Yes, you will get tired of continually casting your sin upon Jesus. I do. But the more aware I am of my flesh and crucify it with repentance the more aware I become of the astonishing grace of Jesus—the grace that has turned an enemy into a friend through the extraordinary kindness of sacrificial love. It is grace that not only saves me but changes me, enabling me to call out and rebuke my flesh as I walk step by step in the power of the Spirit, convinced that in Christ I am fully forgiven and reconciled to the Father, now and forever.

Walt Kelly famously quipped in his Pogo comic strip, “We have met the enemy and he is us.” You and I can look in the mirror and say the same thing. I have met the enemy and he is me. But thank God that we also have met the Savior, and he is Jesus— the one who turns enemies into friends through the extraordinary kindness of sacrificial love.

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Have You Seen the News?

I was in my study on Wednesday working on the Sunday sermon when my twenty-two-year-old son walked in with a concerned look on his face. "Have you seen the news?" At the time, I had not. But now, everyone has.

It seems as if 2021 is a rude awakening to those of us who hoped 2020 would not overflow into the new year. But if we understand history correctly, the problem is not that 2020 has continued. What we are experiencing is an overflow of the events that took place in a garden way back in the early pages of Genesis. Riots, violence, injustice, political turmoil, hatred, division, conflict, jealousy, factions, and the thirst for power is nothing new in the history of humanity. Sadly, it is par for the course.  

Thankfully, the Bible gives us direction for how to process living in a broken, sinful world. For this direction, I want to take us back to a time not long after the first human rebellion took place. The text is Genesis 6:5-8. It is a passage that I think will help us process the stress and grief of 2020, 2021, and every year to come.

 5 The Lord saw how great man’s wickedness on the earth had become, and that every inclination of the thoughts of his heart was only evil all the time. 6 The Lord was grieved that he had made man on the earth, and his heart was filled with pain. 7 So the Lord said, “I will wipe mankind, whom I have created, from the face of the earth—men and animals, and creatures that move along the ground, and birds of the air—for I am grieved that I have made them.” 8 But Noah found favor in the eyes of the Lord.

Three Implications

As we reflect on this passage, it may help to view it from the perspective of the Lord, of humanity in general, and of Noah in particular. Looking at the text from these separate angles, three implications stand out that I think can help guide us into the coming 2021.

1) It is right to lament the ravages of sin.

Verse 6 reveals the heart of the Lord as he looks upon human depravity in verse 5, saying, “The Lord was grieved.” We read further that “his heart was filled with pain.” These are expressions of deep sorrow and anguish. They are the emotions of lament.

If the Lord felt this way, certainly we can, too. And should. Expressing grief with lament is just being honest about our emotional reaction to living in a broken world. 

In her essays on lament, Anne Henegar says that not to lament maybe spiritually harmful because honesty with God is critical for a vital spiritual life. She writes, “All relationships depend on trust and honesty to thrive. This is especially true of our relationship with God. Refusing to be honest with him breeds distance and distrust. Not lamenting is the equivalent of giving God the silent treatment, concealing your true heart. When you don’t tell him what you care about, you tend to assume he doesn’t care. A wedge grows between you, and the relationship becomes anemic.”

From this perspective, lamenting sin is a way of connecting with the heart of the Father. He is not offended by our honesty. Rather, he shares in it.

In view of the events of the past year and week, I am lamenting many things.

* I lament riots and violence.

* I lament domestic abuse.

* I lament racism and injustice.

* I lament the corruption of the gospel in what is called religious or Christian Nationalism.

* I lament a culture that allows and at times even seems to celebrate the constitutional right of Americans to kill infants in the womb.

* I lament the lives that have been lost to Covid and I lament what Covid has done to divide churches and destroy friendships.

* I lament the anger, divisiveness, and mistrust that permeates our entire culture.

These things grieve my heart. I believe they grieve the heart of God, too.

I mostly lament that I am part of the problem. 

2) The evil in the world reflects the evil within me (and within each one of us).

In verse 7, the Lord is ready to bring a final judgment upon humanity. Yet, when I look at the population of sinners being described in Genesis 6, I see their condition in me. In my flesh, I deserve to be wiped out, too. The evil in the world reflects the evil within me. 

I don’t want to admit that. I’m sure you don’t want to admit that either, or at least want to put qualifiers on it. “Of course, I’m a sinner. But not like those people.” But for me to profess anything less than being equally worthy of condemnation before the law of God along with the rest of humanity is hypocrisy.

In fact, each of us has the seed of every sin residing in our flesh. Given the right environment, those seeds can sprout and grow into the most grotesque sins imaginable. Sometimes, these weeds are fertilized by our context. This is why inner-city crime differs from suburban or rural crime.

The truth is my sinful condition is far worse than I think. I’m not a theoretical sinner or a former sinner, but a real, live, right now sinner who, in the flesh, is blinded to probably 99.9% of my sin. The same is true for you.

But do not despair. Although our human condition is worse than we think it is, there is good news. God’s grace is far better than we can imagine. You see, being blinded to 99.9% of my sin means that I am blinded to 99.9% of God’s grace, too!

This is the third truth that guides us into 2021 and beyond.

 3) There is hope in the gospel.

By the end of verse 7, it seems as if human history is going to be short-lived. Yet before the text concludes, we read something that alters the course of what we expect. No one can blame God for wanting to put an end to the human experiment. Then in verse 8, like Superman swooping in to rescue Lois Lane, we read, “But Noah found favor in the eyes of the Lord.”

 We may be tempted to think that Noah somehow was different from the rest of humanity and worthy of saving from the calamity to come. But two Hebrew words in verse 8 completely undermines that hypothesis. The words translated “found favor” are masa and hen. In addition to “find,” masa means “to meet” and “obtain” while hen, in its literal sense, conveys the idea of “grace.” Therefore, when we put them together, we discover that Noah did not deserve mercy, he received it as a gift. He had been found by grace. 

Now we have a context for verse 9, which tells us that Noah was “a righteous man, blameless in his generation.” Why was he different? What caused him to stand out? I believe the good in his life was due to what he found. He didn’t earn it or deserve it. Apart from the hen of God, Noah and his family would have been wiped out, too.

And you know what happens next. The Lord gives Noah instructions for building a massive boat called an ark that would sustain life through the waters of judgment. In the New Testament, Paul would make much of the imagery we see in the flood narrative. One of his favorite phrases that is repeated over and over is that of Christians being “in Christ.” Just like Noah, his family, and two of every species were saved by being safely secured “in” the ark, so believers are saved from the future judgment to come by being safely secured “in” the ark of Jesus.

In the same way the wood of the ark provided shelter from the storm, the wood of the cross provides shelter for us. What is most astonishing about the message of the Bible is that, while we deserved to be wiped away, it is God himself who steps forward to take our place in judgment. In the act of crucifixion, Jesus satisfies the demand of justice and the record of our sins is wiped away with his blood.

This is the hope for those who lament and repent and have grown weary of sadness. This is the hope of those who grieve now, because just as the darkness precedes the sunrise, lament is the prelude to gospel hope and joy. The doors of Noah’s ark opened to a new world. So will the doors of eternity open to a new world for those in Christ—a world where lamentation will cease forever. We get a glimpse of this glorious hope in Revelation 21:1-5.

21 Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. 2 And I saw the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. 3 And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be his people, and God himself will be with them as their God. 4 He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.” 5 And he who was seated on the throne said, “Behold, I am making all things new.” Also he said, “Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true.”

If you are not in the ark of Jesus but want to get in, the doors are wide open. They will not always be, but while they are open, let me plead for you to come in with repentance, believing that Jesus has shed his own blood for your soul.

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One Wish

If I had a magic lamp with a Genie who could grant one wish, what would your one wish be? No, you can’t ask for extra wishes. You get one and only one. 

In Matthew 20:29-34, two blind men sitting by a road just outside the city of Jericho get this very opportunity. Only, it is not a Genie. It’s Jesus. Addressing him with the Messianic title, “Son of David,” they know he is able to fulfill their deepest desire. 

The question Jesus asked them then is the same question he is asking us today. “What do you want me to do for you?” But let’s not be too quick to answer. It will be of greatest benefit if we take our time not to name just a desire but to discover our deepest desire—the desire that rules all others. 

29 As Jesus and his disciples were leaving Jericho, a large crowd followed him. 30 Two blind men were sitting by the roadside, and when they heard that Jesus was going by, they shouted, “Lord, Son of David, have mercy on us!”

31 The crowd rebuked them and told them to be quiet, but they shouted all the louder, “Lord, Son of David, have mercy on us!”

32 Jesus stopped and called them. “What do you want me to do for you?” he asked.

33 “Lord,” they answered, “we want our sight.”

34 Jesus had compassion on them and touched their eyes. Immediately they received their sight and followed him.

“What do you want me to do for you?” Why did Jesus even have to ask the question? They were blind. Wasn’t their need obvious enough? From one perspective, yes. From another, not so much. 

Humans are Like Icebergs

You see, humans are like icebergs. There is the part of our lives that is seen above the waterline. But, like an iceberg, most of who we are is hidden below the waterline. 

If our actions and emotions are displayed on the surface, it is our unseen desires underneath that influence everything that takes place above. What I want us to do in this post is for us to explore the unseen, under the waterline part of the iceberg. This may be new territory for some of us, and that is okay. In fact, it is an amazing opportunity for God’s grace to impact you at a deeper level than ever before.

By the way, if I were in the shoes of the two blind men, I would have asked Jesus to do the same thing. It certainly is not wrong to desire healing, a restored marriage, or the return of a prodigal. Parents want their children to be safe, healthy, and happy. We want to enjoy our work and be financially secure in retirement. 

These are all legitimate, reasonable desires. So was the request for Jesus to heal their eyes. This was a real need. It just wasn’t their most critical need. It was an “above the waterline” need.

I think this is why, in the face of the seemingly obvious, Jesus asked the question, “What do you want me to do for you?” He was giving them an opportunity to go deeper. God was in their midst, just a few feet away, and this was their shot to ask him for anything. What would it be? 

Jesus is asking you the same thing. What is your one wish? What do you most deeply desire Jesus to do for you?  Again, let’s not answer too quickly. Since we are much more in touch with the surface of our lives than under the waterline issues, it may take some time for us to form an answer that will address our deeper issues.  

Exploring Under the Waterline

But how do we do it? What does the process look like for going under the waterline beyond the surface desire to the deep desires that shape our lives? Where should we begin? One thing is to recognize how need and desire are connected. I don’t think about food (the felt desire) unless I am hungry (the felt need). I don’t feel like going to the doctor (the felt desire) unless I’m sick (the felt need).  I don’t want to go to bed (the felt desire) unless I’m tired (the felt need). It is a basic, easy to understand relationship. Lack (a need) creates desire (what I want). 

I suggest that going under the surface to discover the deeper needs of the soul is a journey that begins with understanding the role of emotion. Emotion functions like the warning lights on a car’s dashboard. When various lights glow, they tell you something about what is going on under the hood where the engine is. The oil is low. The O2 sensor needs to be replaced. The engine needs to be checked. It is the same way with the human heart. Emotion helps us understand what is taking place under the hood (or under the waterline). Feelings are not intended to drive us as much as reveal what is driving us. 

Therefore, I need to learn how to ask myself, “What am I feeling right now,” because there is a desire (whether fulfilled or unfulfilled) hiding underneath that emotion. Joy is often linked to a fulfilled desire. Anger may reveal unfulfilled desire. If you have trouble identifying what you are feeling, going online to download an emotion wheel might help. This site has emotional wheels for both positive and negative feelings. Remember, emotions are not good or bad as much as they are indicators of what is going on under the waterline.

A recurring emotion I have sensed in my life is the feeling of insecurity. Not financial insecurity but ontological insecurity—the insecurity of being. Am I important? Am I valued? Am I loved? Those are the kinds of questions my soul continues to ask.

When I sense an emotion, the next step is to identify the desire that is hiding underneath it. For example, the desire under insecurity is the longing to be accepted and loved just as I am, in my broken, unfixed, messy condition. To be told, you are special and treasured, apart from performing, earning, and sustaining. 

While exploring the causes of my battles with insecurity, I discovered a wound. Living in a fallen, sinful world, we all have wounds. The shrapnel of sin has cut through each human with devastating consequences. We have not only been affected by our sin but by the sins of others. For me, the experience of rejection stands out as an early wound that penetrated my soul in ways I could not comprehend at the time.

Rather than take my wound to Jesus for healing, I may attempt to heal myself. This is where I am susceptible to believing lies, and having my desires distorted by the deception of the world, my flesh, or the devil. One big lie is that the solution to the fear of rejection and abandonment is building emotional walls to protect yourself from anyone getting too close. The lie tells me not to let anyone see below the waterline of my heart, because if they do, they will reject me. But what I’ve learned is that walls and facades that we project in order to protect, do not protect the heart, they imprison the heart.

The Wonder of the Gospel

The wonder of the gospel is that Jesus came to set us free from having to protect ourselves. His blood flows all the way down to the deepest depths of our desire to be fully known and fully loved without the fear of rejection. The grace of God says, “I see everything under the surface and I love you completely without question or hesitation.” In the gospel, we have someone who says, “I have seen it all. And you are forgiven. You are better than just accepted. You are valued, loved, and treasured. I will hold you and never let you go.” This is the depth to which the blood of Jesus flows. 

Because just like our lives are icebergs, so is the gospel. 

This is what Jesus would show the blind men. Remember, after they received their sight, they followed Jesus into the next chapter for the Savior’s Triumphal Entry into Jerusalem. Why was Jesus going there? Well, he was Jewish and it was the Passover, the feast where the Jews celebrated their ancestor’s deliverance from slavery in Egypt. But this feast would be different from others Jesus had attended. He wasn’t going to partake of the Passover lamb. He was going to be the Passover lamb.

Healing eyesight was easy. Reconciling sinners to the Father was going to require sacrifice. As the Passover lamb of God, Jesus' blood was shed, not to be spread upon doorposts (as in the Jewish Exodus) but spread on souls of sinners to avert judgment from the sinner to the substitutionary, sacrificial Lamb. Like the original Passover, we are spared because the lamb is judged. But forgiveness of sin by the blood of the Lamb is just the surface blessing. It is a glorious grace to be forgiven! But forgiveness is just the gate into the kingdom. It is the door into the mansion, where there is a banquet of mercies, kindness, and steadfast love to explore and experience. Yes, the gospel is like an iceberg, with deeper, immeasurable grace under the waterline of forgiveness. 

I have found that an awareness of a deep emotional insecurity has been the key to understanding my deepest desire. Remarkably, my personal wound and the emotions connected to it are being used by God as a means by which grace is flowing into my life and healing me way, way under the waterline.

What I Want

And that is what I want. Deep healing of my soul. Not just a religious band aid. I no longer desire emotional relief. I want spiritual renewal. 

What I most deeply desire for 2021 is to come alive to the height, depth, width, and breadth of God’s love for me in Christ. I want to be the object of someone’s affection who puts no conditions on the intensity and commitment of their love. I want to be forgiven and accepted without the fear of rejection or betrayal—even though I’m going to keep blowing it. 

I want to wake in the morning with eyes to see the welcoming smile of God and ears to hear him say, “Good morning, McKay! I’ve been up all night waiting for you. Do you know how much I love you? Do you know how proud of you I am?  I am so glad you are my son.”

In that moment, insecurity is crushed and replaced with joy, and a strange, new humble confidence to enter the day with a name that I do not have to earn or sustain—the name of the Father’s beloved.

When this deep desire is met below the waterline, every other desire is affected. Rather than believe the lies of the flesh, I am more willing than ever to follow the ways of Jesus. And my desires for my children change, too. Rather than wanting them to be just healthy and happy, I long for them to know the height, depth, width, and breadth of God’s love for them in Jesus, too. 

I suppose with this gospel confidence in my ontological security, I’ll be more secure about letting folks see below the waterline of my life as well. I’ll be more willing to forgive as I have been forgiven, and accept as I’ve been accepted, and treasure as I’ve been treasured. For, if Jesus can forgive, accept, and treasure me, he can forgive, accept, and treasure you, too. 

And isn’t that what you really want?

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The Language of Lament

Chris Rice is a Christian musician and artist from Nashville whose song Clumsy appears on his first album from the mid-90s called Deep Enough to Dream. It is a simple song with words that speak the language of lament as he expresses his frustration with not making more “progress” as a disciple of Jesus.

You think I'd have it down by now

Been practicin' for thirty years.

I should have walked a thousand miles

So what am I still doin' here?

Reachin' out for that same old piece of forbidden fruit I slip and fall and I knock my halo loose

Somebody tell me what's a boy supposed to do? 

I get so clumsy. I get so foolish.

I get so stupid. And then I feel so useless. [worthless]

I'm gonna get it right this time.

I'll be strong and I'll make You proud.

I've prayed that prayer a thousand times,

But the rooster crows and my tears roll down.

Can you relate to that language of lament? You have a genuine desire to follow and honor Jesus and yet you trip and fall over your flesh over and over again. Not only do you feel clumsy and stupid. You feel useless. Maybe even worthless. I can relate. Big time.

Paul could relate, too. Yes, that Paul—the renowned missionary, preacher, church planter who wrote about twenty-five percent of the New Testament. Listen to what he says about himself in Romans 7:15-24. 

14 So the trouble is not with the law, for it is spiritual and good. The problem is with me, for I am all too human, a slave to sin. 15 I don’t really understand myself, for I want to do what is right, but I don’t do it. Instead, I do what I hate. 16 But if I know that what I am doing is wrong, this shows that I agree that the law is good. 17 So I am not the one doing wrong; it is sin living in me that does it.

18 And I know that nothing good lives in me, that is, in my sinful nature. I want to do what is right, but I can’t. 19 I want to do what is good, but I don’t. I don’t want to do what is wrong, but I do it anyway. 20 But if I do what I don’t want to do, I am not really the one doing wrong; it is sin living in me that does it.

21 I have discovered this principle of life—that when I want to do what is right, I inevitably do what is wrong. 22 I love God’s law with all my heart. 23 But there is another power within me that is at war with my mind. This power makes me a slave to the sin that is still within me. 24 Oh, what a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this life that is dominated by sin? 25 Thank God for Christ Jesus the Lord!”

Longing for Rescue

That is a powerful longing, isn’t it? The desire for rescue. 

I imagine being a POW and waiting and wondering, day after miserable day. Is rescue coming or am I going to die in this condition? Over time, you may begin to despair and lose hope.

The longing for rescue has been the craving of the human soul since the garden, when Adam and Eve opened Pandora’s box, infecting themselves and their posterity with the corruption of sin. Paradise was lost and the human race was enslaved— not to a foreign power but to the power of indwelling sin. Paul calls this inner tyrant the flesh, or the sin nature. In verses 22-23, he confesses,

“22 I love God’s law (God’s ways) with all my heart. 23 But there is another power within me that is at war with my mind. This power makes me a slave to the sin that is still within me.”

Apart from a rescue mission, you and I are under the penalty of sin, controlled by the power of sin, and have no way to escape the presence of sin. But the message of the Bible, from Genesis to Revelation, is that God has planned from the beginning to execute and fulfilled a rescue mission that would deliver us from every facet of sin.

* In Genesis, the Rescuer is the promised seed of the woman who will destroy the insurgency of the devil. 

* In Exodus, the Rescuer is the spotless, sacrificial Passover Lamb.

* In Leviticus, the Rescuer will be the priest of God who will make atonement for the sins of the people.

* In Numbers, the Rescuer is the Bronze Serpent, lifted high upon a pole to which those bitten by poisonous snakes in the wilderness could look and be healed.

* In Deuteronomy, the Rescuer is the coming prophet like Moses.

* The Rescuer is the true Joshua, whose name means, the Lord saves.

* The Rescuer is portrayed in Judges as one who fights for his people. 

* In Ruth, the Rescuer is the Kinsman-Redeemer. 

* From Samuel through Kings and Chronicles, the Rescuer is the true King of Kings who brings righteousness to the nation. 

* From Ezra and Nehemiah, through the poetic books and the prophets, the Rescuer is described from a variety of angles as the one who will restore a broken and helpless people through the sacrifice of a Suffering Servant.

Isaiah speaks of this mission in chapter 53 of his prophecy. Writing seven-hundred years before the incarnation of Jesus, he reveals in vivid detail how the Messiah would accomplish the rescue.

1 Who has believed our message and to whom has the arm of the Lord been revealed? 2He grew up before him like a tender shoot, and like a root out of dry ground. He had no beauty or majesty to attract us to him, nothing in his appearance that we should desire him. 3He was despised and rejected by men, a man of sorrows, and familiar with suffering. Like one from whom men hide their faces he was despised, and we esteemed him not. 4Surely he took up our infirmities and carried our sorrows, yet we considered him stricken by God, smitten by him, and afflicted. 5But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was upon him, and by his wounds we are healed. 6We all, like sheep, have gone astray, each of us has turned to his own way; but the Lord has laid on him the iniquity of us all.

Finally, as the last Old Testament prophet, Malachi speaks the word of the Lord around 420 B.C., promising the coming of a messenger to prepare the way for the Rescuer. Eventually, in God’s timing, the mission was launched in a small village called Bethlehem.

The Humming of Engines

POWs in World War II told stories of hearing American planes fly overhead in the darkness. Even though they couldn’t see the planes, when they heard the humming of the engines, they knew rescue was near. And were filled with hope to press on for one more day.

At Christmas, we hear the engines of heaven humming above as the epic rescue mission is launched in the small village of Bethlehem. The shepherds heard it in the form of an angels’ song, while the wise men saw it in a star. All the signs pointed to the same event. An assault on sin had begun. The Rescuer had been sent and liberation was near.

As a brilliant theologian, Paul knew that what began in a cradle was consummated on a cross, and that Jesus had come to rescue us, not only from the penalty of sin, but it’s power and presence. With his death, the sentence for sin was served in full. With his “it is finished” declaration from the cross, we are justified. Now, in union with the risen Christ we are filled with the indwelling Holy Spirit, who enables us to subdue the power of sin. This is the process of sanctification. And yet, one day, we not only will we be free from the penalty and power of sin but from the very presence of sin. This is the promise of glorification. 

In view of our gospel hope, in Romans 7, Paul provides the perfect example of how to deal with the enemy within. He confesses the flesh and takes responsibility for it, yet he distinguishes himself from it. Furthermore, he does not remain wallow in self-loathing. Rather, he allows his flesh to drive him to the Rescuer in verse 25 by replying to the question, “Who will rescue me,” by shouting, “Thank God for Jesus Christ our Lord.” 

So, the next time you get clumsy and foolish, do something stupid, sinful, and feel worthless, let your losses lead you to the victory of Jesus over your sin. Like Paul, confess the flesh freely, but don’t wallow in it. Savor the present value of Jesus’ blood and rebuke the chains, because there is no more condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.

And, have a Merry Christmas. May grace and peace be yours in abundance!

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The Most Important Decision

In case you haven’t heard, there is an election coming up in November. People will tell you that how you vote is the most critical decision you’ll make this fall. It certainly isn’t unimportant. But it is not close to the most crucial decision. Neither are other important decisions like getting married, or moving, or taking a new job. Then there are those decisions about buying those new shoes, getting a new phone, and planning your next vacation that are not even on the radar of things of “first importance.”

Furthermore, the most important decision you will make isn’t just for this fall. It is for every day of every year. 

Are you curious? I am, too. So, let’s find out the answer, which we will discover in 1 Corinthians 15:1-9. 

15:1 Now, brothers, I want to remind you of the gospel I preached to you, which you received and on which you have taken your stand. 2 By this gospel you are saved, if you hold firmly to the word I preached to you. Otherwise, you have believed in vain. 3 For what I received I passed on to you as of first importance: that Christ died for our sins according to the Scriptures, 4 that he was buried, that he was raised on the third day according to the Scriptures, 5 and that he appeared to Peter, and then to the Twelve. 6 After that, he appeared to more than five hundred of the brothers at the same time, most of whom are still living, though some have fallen asleep. 7 Then he appeared to James, then to all the apostles, 8 and last of all he appeared to me also, as to one abnormally born. 9 For I am the least of the apostles and do not even deserve to be called an apostle, because I persecuted the church of God. 

Hold Firmly

It may not initially stand out as a decision to make, but when Paul exhorts the Corinthian church to “hold firmly to the word I preached to you,” he is reminding them of the necessity of consciously believing that which is of “first importance.” This tells us that the decision of “first importance”—the most important decision—is whether we will hold on firmly, with confidence and conviction, to the truth of the gospel. 

The Greek word for “hold firmly” (katechō) is a present, active, indicative verb, which assumes that we are doing something in the present, not just in the past. We find this term used many times in the New Testament. 

* 1 Thessalonians 5:19-22, “19 Do not quench the Spirit. 20 Do not treat prophecies with contempt 21 but test them all; hold on to what is good, 22 reject every kind of evil.”

* Hebrews 3:6, “But Christ is faithful as the Son over God’s house. And we are his house, if indeed we hold firmly to our confidence and the hope in which we glory.”

* Hebrews 3:14, “We have come to share in Christ, if indeed we hold our original conviction firmly to the very end.”

* Hebrews 10:23, “Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess, for he who promised is faithful.”

That is the question. I am willing to “hold unswervingly” to the hope I profess? 

In the ancient world, when a King would return from battle in victory, a herald would go before him and his army declaring to the citizens, "Evangelion," which is the Greek word translated into English as good news or gospel, which is the term we read in verse 1 when Paul writes, “I want to remind you of the gospel”—of the evangelion.

In the gospel of Jesus, we celebrate the King’s victory for us. We are not participants in the victory. We are recipients of the victory. This is what we are to hold firmly—that through the cross, Jesus conquered our greatest enemies of sin and death.   

Now, those who were condemned are justified. Those who were spiritual orphans are adopted in love by God the Father. We who were spiritually powerless are given the Holy Spirit to empower us to live supernatural lives that produce good fruit. 

Forgetting the Gospel

But why do I forget the gospel so easily and fail to “hold unswervingly” to our hope? One reason is distractions. There is just so much information to consume and process. With the intensity of hyper-partisan politics and the ever-changing headlines on the latest 24-hour news cycle, our lives can feel as if they are swirling in a cultural tornado. A pandemic. Economic turbulence. Social unrest. Murder hornets. 2020 has been a year of unrelenting chaos. Again, these potential distractions are not unimportant things. They are just not of “first importance.”

Another reason why I neglect to hold firmly to my hope could be spiritual laziness. It takes a degree of effort to grasp something tightly. 

When teaching a new driver to operate a motor vehicle, one of the first lessons is how to hold the steering wheel at 10 o’clock and 2 o’clock. But how many long-time drivers hold the wheel correctly? Why is that? 

Over time we no longer think steering posture is important, and we get lazy about holding the wheel. We may even use our knees instead of our hands so that we can put on makeup or make a phone call. 

But what happens when an emergency arises, where do we put our hands on the wheel? Yep, back at 10 and 2. The lesson is that a world of distractions on the road and in life, it is imperative that we not be lazy but hold firmly, not only to the steering wheel but to what is of “first importance.” 

Worry is another factor in forgetting the gospel. Worry is like kudzu to spiritual health, ensnaring and tangling the heart with concerns over which only a sovereign God has control. I know the kudzu of worry has me in its grip when I notice a discernible lack of dependent prayer in my life, which prevents me from holding firmly to the gospel, turning me into a functional agnostic.

However, the most debilitating reason why the gospel slips through my fingers like a wet bar of soap is when I become overwhelmed with a sense of personal shame as I fix my eyes on my sin. There were times when Paul himself had to fight for faith. We get a hint of that in verses 8-9 when he acknowledges that there is no reason he should be an apostle because he wasn’t only an unbeliever. The apostle Paul had been the most severe persecutor of the church and had hated Jesus. I wonder if his past ever haunted him?

What haunts you? Can you relate to feeling the weight of shame? Everyone has something that haunts us—like a stain that we desperately seek to cover and hide lest it be exposed. How can we hold unswervingly to the gospel in that condition, when fear and shame are so strong? 

The Ground of Faith 

What empowers us to hold on is what enabled Paul, who tenaciously fought to believe the message he preached to others. What was that message? He reminds us in verse 3, saying, “Christ died for our sins according to the Scriptures.”

In Galatians 1, sharing his personal testimony, Paul claims that he was set apart from birth and called by God’s grace when Jesus was revealed to him. He had been lost but now was found; he was blind but in God’s timing, he was able to see. It was a miracle of rebirth—a new life with a new purpose. No longer did Paul persecute Jesus. He preached Jesus as the crucified and risen Christ.

Earlier in 1st Corinthians, Paul identifies clearly the focus of his preaching, saying, “I resolved to know nothing while I was with you except Jesus Christ and him crucified.” At the end of Galatians, where he had shared his testimony of grace, he would exclaim, “May I never boast except in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ!” That cross was the epicenter of the gospel then and it still is today. 

This is what enables us to face our sin and shame with faith and hope. “Christ died for our sins according to the Scriptures.” As Paul would write in Romans 5:6, “At just the right time, when we were still powerless, Christ died for the ungodly.” Let that sink in. Are you ungodly? If you are, you are the perfect candidate to become a disciple of Jesus!

Paul reiterates this in 1 Timothy 1:15-17, saying,

“15 Here is a trustworthy saying that deserves full acceptance: Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners—of whom I am the worst. 16 But for that very reason I was shown mercy so that in me, the worst of sinners, Christ Jesus might display his immense patience as an example for those who would believe in him and receive eternal life. 

Do you see how this last text unfolded? Jesus came for sinners. Paul claimed to be the worst of sinners. If he can be forgiven, anyone can be forgiven. 

This is what can bring us back when we have become distracted, lazy, or consumed with worry, shame, and fear. Knowing that Jesus gave himself to cover the guilt and shame of sinners like you and me. Now, the decision we have to make is whether to “hold unswervingly” to that objective reality as my defining truth.

This may be one reason why Paul includes extended, historical evidence concerning the resurrection of Jesus in 1 Corinthians 15:4-8. Christ didn’t only live and die. He rose and reigns. Now. All the promises of the cross are confirmed with the resurrection!

Five Affirmations of Grace

Now, I want to make this personal for each of us. In order for you to possess this gospel reality, let me give you five short affirmations of grace—one for each finger and thumb which will give you something concrete to believe and hold with confidence. These five affirmations can be used to prime the pump of morning fellowship with the Father or at family meals or as a pocket printout that you read when you need some help holding on.

* I am fully and unreservedly forgiven. There is no condemnation for those who are in Christ. No stain remains.

* I am perfectly righteous in my Father's eyes. Jesus has borne the rags of my sin upon a cross so that I can be clothed in and credited with his moral record.

* I am a dearly loved adopted son or daughter. I'm not merely tolerated. I'm treasured. This is who I am in my Father’s eyes.

* I am indwelt by the Spirit of God and empowered to love well and face every challenge in his strength rather than my own.

* I do not have to play God because my Abba, Father, is in total control of every event in my life, my children's lives, our nation, etc. Even when things look bad, I can trust him because he is working all things ultimately for good—just like he did with the cross.

Even as we resolve to hold firmly to the hope of the gospel, reciting the five affirmations of grace over and over, there will be times when faith falters and we lose our grip. Like the man in Mark 9 who cried out to Jesus, “I believe. Help my unbelief,” we will struggle. The great news is that our salvation is not dependent on how firm our grip is on Jesus but on how strong his grip is on the one who believes, even when faith is faint. When I realize that Jesus has suffered justice in my place and will not let me go, I will have the confidence to hold on to the one who holds me. 

I would be remiss if I didn’t give you the opportunity to take hold of Jesus right now. Maybe this will be for the first time. For some, it may be that the present value of Jesus’ blood has faded in its significance and you want to reaffirm your confidence “that Christ died for our sins.” Whichever case is true for you, if you’re ready to hold fast to and take hold of that defining truth, let me invite you to join me in embracing the five affirmations of grace.

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We Want to Be Known for Something

If you were to ask me as a child what I wanted to be when I grew up, the answer was a no brainer: a wide receiver for the Dallas Cowboys. I’m still holding out hope, and I’m willing to expand my options beyond Dallas.

Other popular answers include being a fireman or a policeman. A nurse. A doctor. A ballerina. A gymnast. Or a social media influencer.

I have never heard anyone, a child or an adult, confess that their personal ambition is to become nothing. Nothingness goes against everything we are wired to pursue. We want to be something. Maybe even something great.

Great students. Great athletes. Great parents. Some of us want to be great preachers. We want to be great in business, in art, in music, in gardening, in interior design, in construction, in automotive repair — great in whatever we pursue.

What we don’t want to be is nothing. A no-name. A nobody. We want to be and be known for something.

For many if not most of us, what we consider our greatness is our identity. My identity is whatever I do that receives praise. To put it another way, we could say that my greatness is my righteousness.

Some of us spend a lifetime building and polishing our righteousness, like a new car or prized vase. Glorying in its shine, we revel in compliments when people comment on its beauty and splendor. Truth be told, in the flesh, we all live for praise.

Marlene’s Ovations

It is said that German-American actress/singer Marlene Dietrich used to invite friends over to her home for dinner only to have them sit and listen for hours to ovations from her international performances. She didn’t play the actual scores, but just the ovations, providing commentary, “That was Frankfurt. This is London. This is New York and here is Chicago.”

I know. That sounds creepy. But it is no more creepy than my unspoken desire to have such a soundtrack to play for my dinner guests. Maybe an old photo album is the next best thing.

The apostle Paul, as a master theologian and doctor of the soul, was well-acquainted with the human heart’s desire for praise and approval. His own story included a preoccupation with the pursuit of self-glory as a rising religious star in Judaism. If he had a vinyl of ovations, just like Marlene, he would have played it for his dinner guests, too.

But then something happened to Paul that changed the trajectory of his life. While on a road to the city of Damascus to arrest Christians, Paul, who then was known as Saul, was blinded by Jesus. When he regained his sight, everything had changed, including how he viewed his former self-righteous self.

Paul’s Transformation

He writes about this transformation in Philippians 3:4–11. First, he summarizes what he formerly prized as glory. Then he throws it all away like garbage.

Here are his words:

If someone else thinks they have reasons to put confidence in the flesh, I have more: 5 circumcised on the eighth day, of the people of Israel, of the tribe of Benjamin, a Hebrew of Hebrews; in regard to the law, a Pharisee; 6 as for zeal, persecuting the church; as for righteousness based on the law, faultless. 7 But whatever were gains to me I now consider loss for the sake of Christ. 8 What is more, I consider everything a loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them garbage, that I may gain Christ 9 and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which is through faith in Christ — the righteousness that comes from God on the basis of faith. 10 I want to know Christ — yes, to know the power of his resurrection and participation in his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, 11 and so, somehow, attaining to the resurrection from the dead.

Without taking the time to provide commentary on this entire passage, I want us to see the radical change in perspective that took place in Paul’s life when Jesus gave him new eyes. Previously, he had been motivated by self-glory in the pursuit of self-righteousness by finding his greatness is some personal attainment for which he would be known and praised. But upon seeing the beauty of Jesus’ gift-righteousness, he gladly, even enthusiastically, was willing to count his self-glory as refuse. Like rubbish to be tossed into the bin and carried away to the dump. The actual Greek word he uses is quite graphic, implying not only garbage but animal excrement. Apparently, he really wanted to contrast the two kinds of righteousness for what they really are.

One is worthless; the other, priceless.

At that moment, Paul became what we all fear becoming in ourselves: nothing. But for him, it was not a moment of death and loss but of life and gain. Becoming nothing entailed emptying himself of the self-righteousness that he found in his lineage, accomplishments, and moral reputation. Not that those things were bad but that they had become idols in which he found his greatness — his identity, his righteousness. Having emptied himself of his self-righteousness, he was able to be filled with the perfect, gift-righteousness of Jesus. No longer was Paul concerned about his own reputation. His passion became magnifying the reputation of Jesus as Savior of sinners.

A Sherpa’s Wisdom

I began a recent post by noting how the Nepali Sherpa, Kami Rama, who holds the Mt. Everest summit record with twenty-four successful climbs to the peak, says that the most dangerous and deadly part of climbing the mountain is not the ascent but the descent. Far more people die coming down the mountain just after achieving mountaineer glory.

This is exactly where churches are on the journey down the mountain of COID-19 to base camp as we plan to re-open in-person services. We have been through shut down together. We have summited the virus. Now we must head back to base camp and reopen.

But as Kami Rama warns, the descent is dangerous territory. How we proceed could make or break us. And I do not mean that our plans will make or break us, but our attitude toward the plans and toward each other — that is what will make the difference.

Differing opinions concerning re-opening are fracturing communities all over the country. The church will not be immune from the challenges as we navigate our way back to base camp. But I am convinced that the Lord intends to use this for good in the church. One reason for my confidence is because, on this next leg of our journey together, we are being called to become nothing. Otherwise, rather than uniting around our common mission, we easily could break into factions where personal agendas and personal preferences turn the ship from missional harmony into ecclesiastical mutiny.

A Template for Becoming Nothing

The apostle Paul wrote to the Philippian church in Greece from prison, likely from Rome around 60 AD or so. Not only was Paul experiencing persecution for his faith, so were the believers in Philippi. They were under extraordinary stress. Much like we are today.

Paul knew what the Philippian church needed as they faced personal and congregational pressures. To remain united, they not only needed to clarify their mission but they needed to commit to putting the good of others above themselves for the sake of the mission. They were being called to radical humility and love. This would demand they apply their new ambition of becoming nothing by emptying themselves like Paul and more importantly, like Jesus.

Let’s turn one chapter back to Philippians 2:1–11, where Paul expresses a deep desire for the church’s unity in mission, warns about personal agendas wrecking the mission, and extols the example of Jesus as the template to emulate in their relationships with one another, especially during a season of high stress and uncertainty.

1 Therefore if you have any encouragement from being united with Christ, if any comfort from his love, if any common sharing in the Spirit, if any tenderness and compassion, 2 then make my joy complete by being like-minded, having the same love, being one in spirit and of one mind. 3 Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves, 4 not looking to your own interests but each of you to the interests of the others. 5 In your relationships with one another, have the same mindset as Christ Jesus: 6 Who, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage; 7 rather, he made himself nothing by taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness. 8 And being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to death — even death on a cross! 9 Therefore God exalted him to the highest place and gave him the name that is above every name, 10 that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, 11 and every tongue acknowledge that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.

The key phrase in this text contains these words in verse 7: “[Jesus] made himself nothing [how?] by taking the very nature of a servant.” With this simple expression we discover that it was through Jesus becoming nothing for us that we have become something to God. As verse 1 says, we are now “united with Christ,” whereby through that union we receive his righteousness as our new identity. Having received the tenderness of mercy and compassion of grace, we now are objects of the Father’s eternal affection. We who believe are no longer condemned but instead are fully forgiven sons and daughters. We no longer have to earn righteousness. We are able to receive it through union with Christ. Like a lamp that receives its power from being plugged into to a source of electricity, we are plugged into Jesus and receive our identity from the source of perfect righteousness when we believe the gospel.

These blessings are the result of Jesus emptying himself, which is a good translation of the original Greek word, kenoō, in verse 7.While studies in theology are extensive concerning various theories of the kenosis — or emptying — of Christ, we know that by becoming a human being, even though he retained his deity, Jesus disrobed his glory from his human form to become the King who dressed among his people as a pauper.

I don’t want us to miss the significance of choice. Jesus’ emptying was a choice. He wasn’t constrained unwillingly into removing his glory but consciously emptied himself of his glory. In the same way, he wasn’t forced into the humiliation of crucifixion but he chose it, as verse 8 says, “humbled himself by becoming obedient to death.”

In John 10, Jesus himself claims that his life would not be taken from him. He would lay it down voluntarily. It is imperative that we make note of the decision involved in Jesus’ emptying himself of glory, as the same choice will be demanded of us, since making ourselves nothing will be an active, not a passive endeavor. Emptying ourselves of self-glory is going to require commitment and conviction.

The Incarnation of Seth Holmes

Dr. Seth Holmes is a medical anthropologist at Cal-Berkeley. During his career, he has been awarded both MD and PhD degrees. In 2013, he published a groundbreaking book entitled, Fresh Fruit, Broken Bodies: Migrant Farmworkers in the United States.

While many academic texts are written from the confines of proverbial ivory towers, Dr. Holmes’ study is “based on 18 months of full-time, on-site ethnographic research within a transnational migrant agricultural circuit linking villages in the mountains of Oaxaca, Mexico, to agricultural areas of Central California, Oregon, and Washington State.”

In layman’s terms, Seth became a migrant worker. For a year and a half, he stripped himself of his professorial titles, wore their clothes, picked blueberries and strawberries by hand, lived in uninsulated plywood shacks, and worked to meet the same quotas as other farm laborers.

Seth Holmes became a migrant to understand the plight of the migrant. He wanted to identify with their struggles and chronicle their impoverished conditions in order to raise awareness. His desire was that through his sacrifice, someone would rise up to improve their lives.

When Jesus became like us, he didn’t merely want to understand us. He didn’t come just to help us. He came to save us as one of us.

To become one of us, he had to empty himself. He had to become… nothing. At least nothing compared to his true identity.

In his kenosis, Jesus as King of Kings became the servant of servants. The one who deserved honor chose the dishonor and humiliation of a cross, the method of Roman execution reserved for the worst of criminals. But Jesus wasn’t a criminal. You are I were.

In verses 3–4, Paul challenges us, “3 Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves, 4 not looking to your own interests but each of you to the interests of the others.” When I evaluate myself in view of that charge, I have to confess that I have failed miserably. Guilty as charged. I assume you are, too.

In the flesh, humans are selfish, self-centered, and conceited. Do I hate that in myself? Yeah, big time. Look the threat we face in the descent is not someone else’s problem, it is my problem. It is an issue I have to deal with and confess.

Beholding Jesus

But the cross tells me that if I look to Jesus as my sin-bearer, who endured justice before the law of God so that I could receive mercy as a gift of God, and believe that he has paid the debt in full that my sin deserved — through trusting in the sacrifice of Jesus, I am forgiven of all charges.

Here is what this means. When I by faith am able to behold Jesus emptying himself of his glory, making himself nothing, putting my interests above his own, valuing me more than his own life, I am empowered by the Holy Spirit to do the same — to empty myself for others.

* To empty myself of self-importance.

* To empty myself of human wisdom.

* To empty myself of all my distorted desires, personal agendas, and idols that I look to for a name, a reputation, and righteousness.

When I become nothing and Jesus becomes everything, I am set free from the burden of creating a name for myself and am able to live with the new ambition of magnifying the greatness of Jesus. That is what I want — a new ambition that exalts Jesus as Savior and King, to the glory of God the Father. I bet that is what you want, too.

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