Pastor's Blog    

Some things wash off easier than others. Anytime I’m working on a car, I’m astonished by how difficult oil and grease are to remove, especially from my hands. The oil seems to have this innate sense of survival that draws it under fingernails, into the fine creases of my skin, and all other hard to clean places. Scrub as I might, the stain, the reminder of the oil’s presence remains.

Sin functions much the same way. It buries itself deep within our hearts and psyches. It stains us in places impossible to clean no matter how hard we try. The best we can do is ignore it for a season, and hope that at some point we forget that it ever happened. Of course, it never works. Eventually we’re forced to look down at our dirty hands; and there we find the traces of our stains; the oil beneath our fingernails; the reminder that not only are we not as clean as we thought, we’re not clean at all.

As directed by God, Israel had a method for acknowledging this stark reality. In a scene that might be best described as orchestrated chaos, the people of Israel would present sacrifices before the Lord. The sounds of the animals, the smell of burnt flesh, the sight of blood covering both the altar and the priests reminded the people that the problem of sin was serious, and it was always with them. They could identify the issue. They could humbly confess it to God and one another. But they couldn’t get rid of it. The stain remained.

There was hope for another solution. One that would free the worshipper to approach God with clean hands and a clean heart. David wrote in Psalm 51, “Cleanse me with hyssop, and I will be clean; wash me, and I will be whiter than snow…Create in me a pure heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me.” It was the Baptist who first proclaimed the news that such a hope had at last been realized. In John 1:29 the Scriptures say, “The next day John saw Jesus coming toward him and said, ‘Look, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world!’” Indeed, this Jesus, through the offering of his life on the cross, would fulfill all that had been anticipated, all that had been hoped for in the bloody menagerie of tabernacle/temple sacrifices. And in the fulfillment, something wonderful happened. The stain was finally removed.

Hebrews 9:13-14 confirms this saying, “The blood of goats and bulls and the ashes of a heifer sprinkled on those who are ceremonially unclean sanctify them so that they are outwardly clean. How much more, then, will the blood of Christ, who through the eternal Spirit offered himself unblemished to God, cleanse our consciences from acts that lead to death, so that we may serve the living God!” In Christ, not only are the external issues of sin addressed, but the internal as well. The stains that reside on our hearts and souls are miraculously removed by the power of the one who is able to save us to the uttermost. The conscience is cleared in order that the remembrance of our past might no longer incite guilt or shame. Rather, through Christ we are freed to enter into the presence of the one who loved us from the very beginning, and to enjoy him as sons and daughters.

This is what it means to enter by faith into the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. This is why the Cross remains central to the gospel. The sin that separated sinners from a Holy God has at last been removed. The veil that excluded us from the place of greatest intimacy with the Father has been torn. The price of our ransom has been paid, once and for all.

As Wiliam Cowper’s timeless hymn declares,

There is a fountain filled with blood drawn from Emmanuel’s veins; 

and sinners plunged beneath that flood lose all their guilty stains. 

Lose all their guilty stains, 

lose all their guilty stains; 

and sinners plunged beneath that flood lose all their guilty stains.

 

In Christ, our hands are clean at last.

We’ll be in Hebrews chapter 10 this Sunday. Hope to see you there!

grace & peace.

We can be honest. Knowing God isn’t easy. There are all the obvious hurdles, like the fact that he’s invisible and typically speaks to our hearts or our spirits (I’m most naturally accustomed to listening with my ears). There’s also the fact that I’m preoccupied with a lot of “me” stuff, which makes relationship building a challenge even with people I can see and with whom I speak quite naturally. Then, there’s the cultural baggage; the way we trick ourselves into thinking we know celebrities, and the ridiculous number of people on our Facebook and Twitter pages. We’ve become skilled at the art of “knowing” people we don’t know, and even better at making sure they don’t know us. Any chance that all of this could be compounding our difficulty in rightly knowing God? Maybe so.

Scripture thinks a lot of the word “know”. The word carries with it a sense of intimacy. It has depth and meaning; the stuff of real relationship. This is the type of invitation God has given us in the New Covenant under Christ. And, according to the Bible, there is simply nothing more important, more powerful, more beautiful than knowing God in this way. It’s truly the most important reason for being.

The story goes as follows: we were designed for relationship and intimacy with God, and rightly enjoyed it until sin built a wall between us. After sin, people no longer knew how to respond to God’s presence. Their guilt put them in a state of fear and panic; and some of this was justified since God’s incorruptible nature was now incompatible with theirs. From that moment forward, God began enacting a complex series of strategic moves designed to tear down the wall between himself and his people. One of the ways he kept the relationship on life support was through the priesthood.

The priests were a select group of people who had the responsibility of making amends for all of the corruption in the lives of the people. Once a year, after making amends for his own corruption, the high priest would enter into the holy of holies, a place representative of God’s intimate presence, and offer amends for the people through the sacrifice of bulls and goats. The people were grateful for this because it seemed to maintain the surface relationship they had with God. Of course, the surface was as far as it could go. They could acknowledge being God’s people and still enjoy some distant proximity to what they once knew. This was the stipulation of the old covenant. God loved his people, but the imprint of sin still seared their consciences and kept them bound in guilt even after amends had been made. The intimate relationship they had once shared was still off limits, as indicated by the fact that access to the representative place of intimacy was open only  to one person, and even then, only once a year.

In Christ all of this has changed. Jesus was the checkmate to God’s long and strategic plan. He was what all the other moves had been hinting at all along. He became the definitive Priest, and when he entered the holy place, he didn’t just enter the representative place of God’s presence. He entered the throne room itself. He didn’t enter once annually. He entered once eternally. He didn’t have to offer a sacrifice for himself (for he was without sin). He offered himself only. His sacrifice is infinitely more powerful than all the sacrifices before him combined because, finally, in Christ, the wall of sin has been completely destroyed. Entrance to the place of intimacy has been granted to any in Christ who wish to come. The Spirit himself now takes up residence in those who believe that we many never be without access to our Redeemer God. The consciences of those who follow Christ have been freed in order that we might enter boldly into the throne room of grace, even as Christ, our forerunner, our savior, our mediator has opened the way onto us. There is no longer any need of a cover-up. We have been wholly forgiven.

Knowing this, let us press into this great invitation. Let us learn the path of prayer, and the way of humility before our God. Let us learn the language of the heart, and listen carefully to the Spirit shouting in the Scriptures and whispering all around us. Let us encourage one another to authentic relationships with our Father, and with one another that we might be sources of encouragement and correction in times of need. Let us be his people, and He our God that we might all know him, from the least of us to the greatest!

This Sunday we’ll be looking at Hebrews 9.

Grace and peace,

Kris

This Sunday was great for several reasons. From celebrating ordination as a family with Kyle and April, to praying over the concerns both in Japan and in our own community, to honoring all of those who have offered their time and energy in serving our church, it was truly a unique gathering for Mosaic.

In the sermon, we quickly covered a few heavily important themes within our faith. I want to offer a little further clarification on these themes toward our continued growth in Christ.

First, there’s the topic of “original sin”. As a probable all-time top ten for theological debate and scrutiny, the passage we read (Romans 5:12-21) is central to the argument. I made a loose appeal to what Peter Leithart prefers as “original death.” His reasons for this (at least as I understand them) are pretty solid. Scripturally, sin and death aren’t that different from one another. As James tells us, death is simply sin all grown-up. In the garden of Eden, sin gave rise to death first through the expulsion from Eden (estrangement from God), and further through the physical consequence of estrangement from God (no access to the Tree of Life). No other human would be born into the type of circumstances Adam and Eve were. All would be born in estrangement from God, and therefore under the reign of death. In Romans 5:12, Paul says, “Therefore, as sin entered into the world through one man, and death through sin, so also death spread to all men on account of which all sinned.” The italics are used to highlight Leithart’s translational preference, which serve to clarify his argument. Sin begins in the garden and gives rise to death. Death then spreads to all people, and in consequence, inherently gives rise to sin in all people. My synthesis is that the primary issue at stake with all humanity is separation from God. In a state of separation from God, humanity cannot avoid sin and death as they are cut-off from the only ultimate source of truth and life.

Secondly, there is the theme of the Law as it relates to those who follow Jesus. Paul appears to see the Law functioning within the book of Romans as convicting humanity while preparing them for redemption. Again, Leithart is quite helpful here. Many Christians see the Law as outdated and irrelevant for those who live under the grace offered in Jesus. However, if that is the limit of our understanding, then we miss much of the beauty and truth discovered in the Law about who God is, and the means by which he works toward the redemption of his people. This is not to say that there aren’t still parts of the Law that create tension as we look back in time to cultures and practices more than three thousand years in the past. These tensions remain, but the more that we begin to understand who God is, the more comfortable we become trusting him in the tension. The Law was powerless to grant redemption. Nevertheless, it did prepare the way for redemption by making Israel aware of their transgressions against a holy God. It also served to localize the accounting of sin, thus enabling the payment for sin by the new representative of both Israel and humanity, Jesus Christ. Furthermore, the Law maintains a redemptive effect, refining the consciences of all who encounter it according to the revealed character of God contained therein.

Lastly, the Holy Spirit aids in this refining work through his convicting presence in the ongoing sanctification of the believer. I’d like to clearly emphasize here that in all these arenas, it is not God’s pleasure to be understood as One who manipulates people into relationship with Him through shame and fear (i.e. sin and death). While certainly this has happened at times, the Triune God has designated that He chiefly be understood according to his love and forgiveness, which are most powerfully exemplified in the incarnation, crucifixion, and resurrection of Jesus. As Paul designates in Romans 2:4, it is God’s kindness that leads us to repentance. Therefore, the tension created by our encounters with the Law should not be perceived as driving us away from God through shame and fear, but rather overwhelming us that a God who would be so well within his rights to drive us away, has instead chosen to love us at an exceedingly high cost to himself. This kind of positive tension within the Law continues to prepare our hearts to receive the love and mercies of God, rather than hardening us from them. The truth is that we are all sinners and have done despicable things both to ourselves and others, but the only person who has the right to designate us as sinners has chosen rather to designate us as beloved if only we will receive the very center of his love and mercy toward us in his One and only Son, Jesus Christ.

I’ll end with the conclusion I had planned for yesterday’s sermon:

“On another occasion, when the Gestapo had banned Karl Barth from speaking, he (Friedrich Rittelmeyer) read Barth’s manuscript out to the audience. Though with great courage he braved the danger that his defiance surely placed him in, he read the text falteringly and sometimes with an articulation that distorted its meaning. It was clear that he himself scarcely understood the paper he was delivering. Nevertheless, this man had something I would like to call the ” instinct of the children of God.” He could smell demons even upwind. He saw through every wolf in sheep’s clothing and did not allow himself to be deceived by any chalk that the wolf had eaten. He had the charisma to distinguish between the genuine and the false. Thus it sometimes happened that he was able to win a whole synod over and bring them back onto the right path when their resistance was flagging and they were seeking to cover up their intended retreat with ever so clever theological arguments. On such occasions he would step in like an angry Jeremiah and tear to pieces the intellectual spider’s webs with such authority than even much cleverer heads than his would capitulate before him and see their carefully concealed thought of escape brought to light. It became clear to me at that time what it means for the Spirit of God to choose fragile earthen vessels for his work. I realized that he holds in contempt those who pass themselves off as great personages. Whenever I recalled this man, who let himself be dragged through the prisons, sang hymns of praise there, and in all his weakness was a pillar of the Confessing Church, I would think of Luther’s saying about the God who rides even lame horses and creates sculptures from rotten wood.” — Helmut Thielicke

May God give the church more men and women such as this.

I will make of my life a High Priest of Truth.

“I WILL make of my talents, whatever they are, a High Priest of Truth. This I do when I use them to enrich life, to render life more human, to make life more gracious and personal than it would be otherwise. I recognize that my talents may be special endowments or they may be the result of the advantageous path along which my life has come from the beginning.

I will make of my remembering a High Priest of Truth. I purpose in my heart that I shall not use my memory to store up those things which fester, poison, and destroy my living, my life, or the living and the life of others. I shall make it my study to preserve my soul in balance and liberty. I will use my memory to store up the excellent things of my experience. In this way I shall lay up treasures in Heaven.

I will make of myself a High Priest of Truth. I will recognize the supremacy of the Ideal of Godlikeness to which more and more, by His help, I will give myself. Despite the number of times I fail, despite all the limitations and inadequacies which beset me, by God’s strength I will make of myself a High Priest of Truth.”  — Howard Thurman

“By way of encouragement, God tells us in scripture: ‘I will remove the stony heart from their bodies, and replace it with a natural heart…” (Ezekiel 11:19). But I’m still waiting, asking myself when and how this will happen.

In our community the other day there wasn’t much coffee. Coffee does me good down here in the desert…it helps me…I am old.

I was worried about not having any, about spending a few hours feeling dull and weak, and so—without perceiving the evil I was doing—I went into the kitchen before the others and drank up all that was left.

Afterwards, having suffered all day and made my confession, I thought in shame of my selfishness, of the ease with which I had excluded my two brothers from those black, bitter remains.

It seems a tiny thing, yet in that cup of coffee, taken and not shared with my brothers, is the root of all the evil which disturbs us, the poison of all the arrogance which selfishness, riches, and power create.

The difference between me and Jesus is right here, in an affair that seems simple but isn’t at all; after a whole life time it is still there to make you think. Jesus would have left the coffee for his brothers; I excluded my brothers.

No, it isn’t easy to live with hearts like ours: let us confess it.—from The God Who Comes by Carlo Caretto.

Faith is difficult to describe.  It resists our tendencies to intellectualize (to subjugate) or to make simply a matter of personal experience (to make subjective).  This is well because both ultimately pursue the same end through different means: controlling faith i.e. controlling God.  We are products of the informational revolution.  There are no questions we can’t ask.  And so we ask, and grow smug in the self-assurance that we can control ideas, mechanisms, politics, people, and our very own lives.  Faith remains wild in its mystery, and will exist no other way.

To assert that ideas which escape man’s full comprehension are to be discarded as absurd is to arrive at the pinnacle of arrogance. One need not look long through the vast reaches of our universe to rediscover our relative ignorance. This doesn’t hinder our quest for knowledge, but rather highlights our rather recent inability to admit that we live within and among great mystery. We are far from taming the beast.

The most compelling elements of humanity remain wild and free.  Faith is but one.  We may know that the stars exist, but how do we know they are beautiful?  We may know rhythm and pitch, but how do we know a musical masterpiece?  We may know hormones and biology, but how do we know we’re in love?  Like these, faith resides in a place where we know things we can’t know, and are content in the wonder of the world around us.

Those of us who consider ourselves followers of Jesus will readily admit that at some point faith noisily intruded into our lives declaring (love, forgiveness, redemption) and demanding (worship, faithfulness, selflessness).  What we saw was Jesus, and we found him beautiful.  We found that we loved him, that maybe somewhere within us we had always loved him.  In earnest, we said “o.k.,” and we made his life our own.  We did not pursue faith, rather it pursued us.  We cannot describe faith, rather it describes us.

Those who would not consider themselves followers of Christ either have not yet had this moment of faith’s intrusion, or at it, dismissively said “that’s o.k.,” and followed other saviors (other religions), or ivory towers (secularism), or sadly, and most commonly, themselves.  What, then, remains to be said for faith is said in the gospel breathed, spoken, lived, and empowered by the mysterious workings of the Spirit. He has given us faith in order to see past the chaos of our world and our lives into the beautiful restoration that began with the resurrection. God has made the world his mess to fix, and fix it he will… in wonderful fashion!