God’s judgment and justice

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“You order your kingdom with judgment.  You order your kingdom with justice.”

- lyrics from “Wonderful Counselor” by Tom Wuest

How can I argue with the judgments of God, when God created everything and is working for its restoration? 

Whether God’s actions are comforting or cause great pain, God’s judgment and justice are right and good.

Glad to sing these words this morning with our church, and glad to have a blueprint for me grow into a humble, abundant life with God. 

Like any child, I need boundaries, I need discipline, and I need encouragement to never quit!

Resurrection

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iphigenia

We
are coddled.

She
watched her husband and several children
hacked to death with a machete.

She grieves.
Her remaining children are fatherless
missing limbs
also by machete
a living “lesson” from the perpetrators to never forget
that this could happen again.

Yet instead of nurturing vengeance
instead of nurturing bitterness
she looks the murderers and maimers in the eye
and says,
“I forgive you.
You have shattered my life, but you will not shatter my spirit.”

She is able to say this, and believe this,
because she received a gift from the church.
The gift of truth and reconciliation.
A process that brings deep awareness of hurt and injustice,
yet extends the transformative power of forgiveness.
A real power that takes the tattered pieces of a fractured reality,
and makes hope rise again.

Yet here in America,
we are coddled.

We have conversations about hypothetical scenarios
of robbers who come to steal possessions, and maybe life.
We have constitutional amendments that justify our beliefs
about what we would do to those perpetrators.

We don’t believe in forgiveness.
We don’t believe in hope rising from the ashes of death.
We don’t believe in resurrection.

We do not receive the gift from the church
of truth and reconciliation.

We baptize our hatred,
we baptize our justifications
we marginalize the teachings of Jesus,
we call our beliefs and justifications
Christian.

Yet,
try as we might,
marginalize as we do,
stories like hers never go away.

They bubble up from seemingly hidden places,
searing stories of a Christianity
that is not defanged, declawed, spiritualized into oblivion;
unlike ours, her Christianity looks a lot like Jesus.

Giving
Loving
Judging
Forgiving
Weeping
Transforming.

We are coddled, lost.

We can be Christian again.

It is not hopeless.

God resurrected Jesus.

God can resurrect us.

Rare opportunities, and the reminder that we are not in control

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Anyone that knows me well knows that I have a bit of a love/hate relationship with the lectionary.  If you’re not familiar with the lectionary, it’s a set of Scriptural readings (daily, and Sunday) that run on a three year cycle before repeating.  As you could imagine, the central idea is that the major themes of the Scriptures are covered; so Christians who follow the lectionary will have a higher Scriptural literacy and stronger foundation for faith.

That’s the idea, and I LOVE that idea.  In practice, the things come out pretty mixed.  In important times of the Christian year (Lent, Advent, Pentecost, etc), the lectionary focuses us on the season pretty well. In general, it covers some important Scriptural territory.  However, the lectionary has a couple frustrating, even angering holes.

One intermediate problem is that the Sunday lectionary readings tend to hop all over the place during Ordinary Time, leaving churches and pastors that follow them to try to draw some kind of continuity from week to week.  As a result, worship on the lectionary tends to be whatever the church constructs.

One horrific problem is that the lectionary readings often omit the sharper edges of the Scriptures in favor of passages with vocabulary we can bend to fit what we want to say or do.  I’m very aware that “horrific” is a strong word.  I used it on purpose.  Systematically excluding parts of the Scriptures you don’t want to hear or have to explain is a living example of the prophetic critique that Jeremiah brings twice against the people of Israel, “Prophets and priests alike, all practice deceit.  They dress the wound of my people as though it were not serious.  ‘Peace, peace,’ they say, when there is no peace.” (Jeremiah 6:13-14, 8:10-11)

Now, you may have several responses to my introduction here.

1. You may be skeptical about the accuracy of what I’m saying about the lectionary.  If you’re a part of a church that follows the lectionary, I would encourage you to take a three or four-month segment and read the passages.  Pay particular attention to what the lectionary leaves out.  Specifically, look for passages like “10-12a.”  You will often find that “12b” isn’t quite as comforting.  In addition, look for passages like 10-12a, 13-15, 19-21a.”  I’ve seen this multiple times in the last few years.  Take a wild guess at what is often repeatedly excluded in the skipped-over sections.

“Maybe they’re just setting it up for a simple message to be taken away from the reading, Nathan?” you might say in response.  Yes, maybe.  Sometimes simplicity is helpful, and complexity muddies the water too much.  I get that.  But again and again?  One begins to see a troubling pattern that leads to troubling conclusions.

2.  You may think it’s entirely appropriate to skip certain sections of the Scriptures, because they’re not relevant anymore, or even may be destructive to read and follow.  I’m sympathetic to some of that belief, and deeply aware of the darker implications of that kind of commitment.

I’m sympathetic to that belief, because the Scriptures are a set of living, evolving, progressing writings that emerge from a living, evolving community.  I very much take a narrative approach to the Scriptures that proclaims that God is meeting God’s creation where they’re at, connecting with them, and taking them a step further.  Sometimes those steps are smaller, like the call of Moses to speak up, and sometimes those steps are bigger, like the advent of Jesus; which was such a big step that Israel killed him off as quickly as they could.  Because of this narrative approach, if we happened to read, “Happy is the one who seizes (Babylon’s) infants and dashes them against the rocks,” (Psalm 137: 9) or “If a man has sexual relations with a man as one does with a woman, both of them have done what is detestable.  They are to be put to death,” (Leviticus 20:13), I would refuse to say our typical response,

“Reader:  This is the word of the Lord.
Congregation:  Thanks be to God.”

I would refuse to say this not because I confidently believe we know better than our ancestors, but because both of those sentiments (vengeance against enemies, and the death penalty for homosexuality) are contradicted explicitly by Jesus and therefore no longer the truth we turn our life upside-down to follow.  I don’t know exactly what the proper response to a reading of those Scriptures would be.  Maybe,

“Reader:  The story of the people of God.
Congregation:  Damn, that’s different than Jesus,”

or

“Reader:  God’s word to Israel then.
Congregation:  Thanks be to God for the way of Jesus now.”

or whatever else would better fit.

Now, the darker implications of our belief that certain parts of the Scriptures are no longer relevant or helpful is that we presume to believe we know better than our ancestors what faithfulness is and how to live.  In other words, we don’t really care deeply about the narrative progression of the Scriptures unless they reinforce what we already believe about ourselves and the world.  When the Scriptures present a situation that offends us or present a hard boundary on our behavior, we go out of our way to minimize, spiritualize or otherwise metaphorize (is that even a word?), or ignore the passage.  Conservatives and liberals both do this in our society.  Conservative American christians often minimize or relativize Jesus (as crazy as that sounds), while Liberal American christians often minimize or relativize the Old Testament and/or Paul and/or the Scriptures period (to give several quick examples).  In our church family here in Norwood, I often sense the greatest tension in the room when we read passages that challenge a more liberal perspective on the world.

———————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————–

All of the above is a prequel of sorts for a simple observation I made last Sunday.  The lectionary’s outline highlights certain themes because it has to pick something, and the lectionary very rarely includes “sharp” words that challenge and offend.  Yet for some reason, the shapers of the RCL, in tune with the Lenten season, chose to include last Sunday some very strong Scriptures that were BEGGING, JUST BEGGING, PLEADING, to be central in the time of worship.   Our church family is focusing in the Lenten season on the appropriate themes of Repentance, Forgiveness, and Reconciliation.  We read from:

Isaiah 55:1-9 (theme: Listen to the Lord and obey, and you will live!)

Psalm 63:1-8 (theme, devotionally: “My soul thirsts for God!”)

1 Corinthians 10:1-13 (theme: Warning, continue to choose disobedience and idolatry, and God has every right to end you)

Luke 13:1-9 (theme, from Jesus’s lips, “Repent, or perish!”  Perish.  Spiritually: unsatisfied, unfruitful.  Physically: Wasting away, death.  Again, God has every right to end you if you aren’t serving the purpose you were created for).

What important passages to be reminded of!
How appropriate for the themes of Repentance, Forgiveness, and Reconciliation!
How timely and needed for a congregation that tends toward liberal perspectives!
What a gift from a lectionary prone to avoidance of passages like these!

We read the passages near the beginning of our worship gathering.  Tension developed in the room as the passages were read aloud one after the other.  I looked around and could see faces responding in certain ways, some seeming to cringe in embarrassment at what they believed to be the provincial backwardness of the passages, some seeming to cringe at the starkness of “Repent or perish!” because there isn’t a whole lot of wiggle room or room for mystery or complexity, others offended with some masking it better than others, some wondering how to respond faithfully to such stark words, others grudgingly hearing the passage as a surprising and hard teaching, and others seeming to come alive in response to the words!   A spectrum of responses.

In other words, a ripe opportunity to be reminded in practical, meaningful ways that we are not the authority.  A ripe opportunity to listen to the testament of our ancestors in thinking they could construct their own ways of defining good and evil.  A ripe opportunity to consider how the grace and compassion of God lives alongside the wrath and judgment of God; with both being vital parts that make up God’s love.  Ripe, ripe, ripe, RIPE, RIPE!

The simple reading of the Scriptures gave us the opportunity to begin this importance reflection on God’s authority, that in fact, our belief that we are free to construct our own understanding of truth and life is a central component of the chains that enslave us as God’s creation.  It is a twisted, wicked lie passing as truth that constrains, sickens, and ultimately destroys us.  And yet God compassionately, graciously, patiently waits for extended periods of time for us to abandon this false pretense. God forgives a thousand, a million times over as we offend and rebel against him.  And eventually, because God cares more about his kingdom breaking out in this world, a kingdom of people under his authority bringing healing and reconciliation to that which is twisted almost beyond recognition, God is willing to end us, to destroy those who would militate against his purposes.

We don’t want to hear this, whether liberal or conservative.  We would rather plug our ears, sing comforting songs, read books that reinforce our beliefs, continue constructing our own world, and only read Scriptural passages that feed our perspectives.  And thus we remain ignorant, but willfully so.  And God will not stand for willful ignorance. God will eventually act, and do it because of His great love for this creation that with agonizing groans begs for the sons and daughters of God to be revealed.

Lent is Lent for a reason.  It is a season we still set aside to focus on our need for repentance, our desire to rule our own lives, our sense of justification for rejecting and excluding others from our love.  I needed to sit and reflect with my brothers and sisters on the FACT that God is the authority, that we are NOT, and that that fact is GOOD, GREAT news.

I know we will have more opportunities during Lent to dwell deeply in our sinfulness and rebellion, to dwell deeply in God’s long-suffering patience, compassion, and just judgment.  I sincerely hope we take those opportunities, because after Lent, the lectionary will return to its old ways, release us to resume building our own world and religion the way we please.

I lament.
I hope.
I thank you, God, that you are awakening me to see the chains wrapped about my arms, legs,
the fog slowly clearing from a mind clouded and confused by my sin.
Thank you that your Way is good and right.
Thank you that we have a role to play,
that you have invited us to collaborate with you,
under your authority
for the healing of your world.

More than a spiritual teacher

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“Throughout his short public career Jesus spoke and acted as if he was in charge. 

Jesus did things people didn’t think you were allowed to do, and he explained them by saying he had the right to do them.  He wasn’t, after all, merely a teacher, though of course he was that too- in fact, one of the greatest teachers the world has ever known.  He spoke and acted as more than a teacher. 

He behaved as if he had the right, and even the duty, to take over, to sort things out, to make his country and perhaps even the wider world a different place.  He behaved suspiciously  like someone trying to start a political party or a revolutionary movement.  He called together a tight and symbolically charged group of associates (in his world, the number twelve meant only one thing: the new Israel, the new people of God).  And it wasn’t very long before his closest followers told him that they thought he really was in charge, or ought to be.  He was the king they’d all been waiting for.

If we look for a parallel in today’s world, we won’t find it so much in the rise of a new “religious” teacher or leader as in the emergence of a charismatic, dynamic politician whose friends are encouraging him to run for president- and who gives every appearance of having what it takes to sort everything out when he gets there.”

From N.T. Wright in Simply Jesus: A New Vision of Who He Was, What He Did, and Why He Matters

Experiencing prayer…

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I’ve had the impression over the last several days that I need to pray for my daughter.  To be more specific, that I need to sit beside her, place my hands tenderly on her head and her chest, and quietly, expectantly, seek God’s healing for her body.

I’ve wondered why the impression has been stronger here recently.
Is it because I’ve drifted away from more intentional times of prayer with her like this and I feel guilty?
Maybe.
Is it because I believe that God’s power makes a real, fundamental difference in people’s bodies, and Hannah has some areas of great concern?
Most certainly; always this.
Or is it because God wants to use me to do something more powerful in Hannah than in normal times of healing?
Am I being led to obediently pray out of respect for the leadership of the Spirit in this specific circumstance?

Questions like these continue to be important for me in my life, especially as I’ve recently been focusing more on the leadership of the Spirit in how I go about my day:
As I walk or bike to teach at Withrow High and pass people along the way, how do I bless them, hold them in the love of God?
As I observe students acting differently today then yesterday, how can I quietly pray for them, knowing they have unique challenges at home and outside of school that impact who they are at school?
As I walk through Kroger, how might I be led to pray for the people in my aisle, in my checkout line?

These questions are more broad, overarching life questions that sharpen my focus on listening and obediently praying.  These questions help me to to practically, expectantly go through my day turning my attention toward God.  They help me to abandon my functional atheism that I am so familiar with to live as though there is a living God who needs me to step up and serve Him so that certain things can get done in the world.  I have a small, but essential role to play in God’s expanding kingdom in this world.

I find great meaning in those broad, overarching life questions.

But this nagging feeling that I needed to pray for Hannah?  I came to the conclusion this was not a broad, overarching reminder that as a father I  should pray for my daughter.  I felt this needed to be done as soon as possible.   Last night I returned from work at Cracker Barrel, communicated to Bethany that this was my impression, and later in the evening, I went upstairs by Hannah’s bed, and began to pray.  After about a minute, nodding off twice, and my arm falling asleep from the bed railing, I realized then wasn’t maybe the appropriate time, promised God I would pray in the morning, and fell asleep.

This morning, as Bethany prepared to worship with our church family, since this was my morning to stay home with Hannah, I realized that with coffee in hand and a night of sleep behind me, I was more ready than ever to obediently say “Yes” to God and pray with Hannah.

While we waited for Bethany to leave, I popped in a DVD of Francis MacNutt I wanted to review for our upcoming healing prayer group in our church.  Francis spoke about “Baptism in the Spirit” with some bracing words about its importance in our life. I was reminded of my own experience of baptism as a teenager; how God showed up that day in a unique way.  Francis reminded listeners that the baptism of the Spirit, as Peter preached, empowers us to “go around doing good and healing all who (are) under the power of the devil.” (Acts 10:38)  In short, instead of standing at a distance and pointing out that Jesus did crazy things, we are to, obediently, seek to do the same things he did.

I was reminded by Francis to be courageous, step out, and do what Jesus did because that is what he expected his disciples to do. Period.

What better opportunity to practice than with my daughter!

So I brought Hannah up to the bedroom, laid her down on Bethany’s side of the bed, placed a hand on top of her head, another on her chest, and began to pray for her.  Like the MacNutts suggest, I prayed with my eyes open; communicating the love of God in meeting the gaze of Hannah, and looking for ways Hannah was responding to prayer.

I noticed after a bit that Hannah’s demeanor was changing; that she was smiling much more broadly, meeting my gaze and holding it for long stretches of time.
As I continued to pray specifically for the development of her lungs, the strengthening of her esophageal muscles, and the removal of psychological barriers to eating, she grasped my hand on her chest,  lifted it up to play with, and I could feel her hands shaking.
As our prayer progressed, Hannah’s gaze, instead of looking directly at me, or wandering around the room, seemed to consciously and specifically focus in one specific area off to the side and behind me.  I looked behind, and followed her gaze to see it was just a blank piece of ceiling.  Yet she seemed to be interactive with her gaze, smiling and showing some form of acknowledgment of something.  Because she was peaceful and happy in this, I welcomed it, believing God was comforting her with some sort of vision, remembrance, or an angel.  I rejoiced that children in their simple acceptance can lead adults to abandon supposed maturity and turn to God like a child.  I acknowledged I let so much stuff get in the way and let Hannah lead me to enjoying the presence of God.

As I prayed with Hannah this morning, I felt noticeably lighter.
I felt that God was encouraging me for having responded obediently (however slowly) to praying for Hannah.
I was glad for this quality, loving time I could share as a father with my daughter.
I thanked God that I could participate in my small way in “doing good and healing all” as Jesus did.
And I prayed that the Holy Spirit would continue to move in power in Hannah in the specific ways that I asked.
I felt honored to collaborate, to work together, with God for Hannah’s health and wellbeing.

Thank you, God.

“Whose Children These?” A beautiful hymn response to Newtown.

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Whose Children These?

(A new hymn text by Frank Ramirez for the Christmas carol “What Child Is This?” originally written by William C. Dix, 1865, set to the tune Greensleeves, a traditional English melody.)

Whose children these,
who laid to rest,
Tear every heart in weeping?

Whose children these,
God, tell us please?
Uphold them in your keeping.

Each reaching above the fray
To heaven’s border where angels pray,
Love, moving past hate and fear,
To save and cherish our children.

The wind blows cold.
These ills behold,
As rage and evil come feeding.

We see, we hear,
Oh God, we fear
That none can staunch the bleeding.

You are greater than evil’s reign.
Stand in our midst, we pray, remain.
Comfort hearts, we’ll play our parts,
So nothing love impeding.

Each child’s name with us remain,
These sorrows sharing
with those who weep

Whose loss is great,
against this hate
Your love abiding be done.

Reign! Rein in insanity,
Install in all your divinity!
So then may we, one humanity,
See your will as in heaven be won.

– Frank Ramirez is pastor of Everett (Pa.) Church of the Brethren. “Here is a hymn text I wrote around 2 a.m. this morning for use in our worship service,” Ramirez wrote when he submitted the hymn as a resource. “For my message I added the text from Matthew on the Slaughter of the Innocents…. We sang it at the end of worship to (the tune) Greensleeves. Here it is, in case others want to sing it.”

The Work of the Holy Spirit in Transformation

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The following is an audio recording and transcript of a sermon for and with our church community, Vineyard Central, on June 17, 2012.  The sermon dwells deeply in Romans 7:7-8:16.

It is this passage from the letter to the Romans that puts verses like 7:6 (“But now, dying to what once bound us, we have been released from the law so that we serve in the new way of the Spirit, and not in the old way of the written code”) and other like passages in context.  So much evangelical theology is built on verses like Romans 7:6 to the detriment of the church, I believe, because we don’t let Paul speak for himself.  Even more important, we don’t put Paul’s theology under the Lordship of Jesus, and we take pieces of Paul out of context, and elevate what we think Paul believes to be on par with the words of Jesus.

All the above thoughts lurk in my head often, and they informed the formation of the sermon.  The sermon is intended to address several questions that arise from the life of discipleship:

Why is it that Christians are so afraid of the simple commands of God, so worried about the possibility of “legalism,” that we avoid teaching clear commands of Scripture?

Why is God’s law so maligned in our understanding of discipleship even though Paul says “I delight in God’s law” (Romans 7:22)?

Why do we focus on “grace alone,” when Paul clearly joins with Jesus (“For the Son of Man…will reward each person according to what they have done” [Matthew 16:27])  in multiple places to say, “God will repay each person according to what they have done” (Romans 2:6) and “if you live according to the sinful nature, you will die; but if by the Spirit you put to death the misdeeds of the body, you will live” (Romans 8:13)?

Why, when we speak of the Spirit’s role in transformation, do we tend to speak in broad generalizations that in practice enable each person to make of the Spirit what they will?  Does Paul really set the Spirit up against written or spoken commands?

All of these questions led to four main thoughts in the sermon:

1.  God’s law is very good, and there is no gospel without it.

2.  The Spirit walks in step with the command of the Father and the gift of the Son, not apart from them.

3.  We have not been set free from the command of God to live in a state of grace alone.

4. The life of discipleship is not primarily a series of vague ideas that we get to shape ourselves, but primarily a concrete divine command followed by a human “Yes.”

Click on this sentence to listen to the sermon.

Below is the sermon transcript (my spoken thoughts deviated at times):
(Intro: How reflection times vary at VC based on situation/Scriptural passages/etc)

(Read Romans 8:1a) In some ways, I’d like the desire to begin with Romans 8 to serve as a teaching moment that hopefully will bear fruit over the course of our time this morning. As Christians, we have a strong desire to dwell primarily in places like Romans 8, “Oh yes, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus. Yes. Yes. I love that verse. And isn’t it just so true? We are not condemned.” But, if we value our spiritual and physical health, we should recognize that Romans 8:1a doesn’t stand alone. Plus, isn’t it just wrong on a literary level to start reading at “Therefore”?

So, we’re going to appreciate Romans 8 and the Holy Spirit as agent of transformation in a bit wider context, just including some of Romans 7. Now, if you’re familiar with Romans 7, you already know we could spend our entire time this morning in the intricacies of what our apostle Paul is trying to communicate about law, life, sin, death, and desire. I’m going to attempt to catch some of the core message of Romans 7 and how it enables us to see Romans 8 more clearly. And I want to start in Romans 7:7, which gives us enough context that we can digest this morning, and go from there.

Romans 7:7-8:16
7 “What shall we say, then? Is the law sinful? Certainly not!”

I’d like to stop here for a second. There’s at least a small group of us this morning who might sum up our past encounters with the letter to the Romans by saying “Law= bad. Gospel = good.” And no matter how kindergartenish that sounds today, in some corner of our brain, we still believe it. But Paul simply asks the question, “Is the law sinful?” And he answers it, “Certainly not!” And if the law is not sinful, that implies that the law is “Good.” More on that as we progress here.

“Nevertheless, I would not have known what sin was had it not been for the law. For I would not have known what coveting really was if the law had not said, “You shall not covet.” 8 But sin, seizing the opportunity afforded by the commandment, produced in me every kind of coveting. For apart from the law, sin was dead. 9 Once I was alive apart from the law; but when the commandment came, sin sprang to life and I died. 10 I found that the very commandment that was intended to bring life actually brought death.”

I’m just throwing this out there, but I think Paul just used a rhetorical ploy here when he said, “Once I was alive apart from the law.” Because if it’s true that we’re alive apart from God’s law, then Paul should pack it in and quit writing to the church there in Rome. Every specific statement he makes, or any reference to God’s commands he makes from that point on will lead these poor people down the road towards death!” Again, for us one-verse quoters, we could make hay with this verse.” If I was alive apart from the law, then the law must cause death, so the law, again, is bad!” What Paul is addressing here, most specifically, is what we could call a state of naïve ignorance. The law is God’s command; God’s concrete, practical word that gives guidance about what to avoid and what to pursue. Apart from hearing from God, we are hopelessly caught in the clutches of a very sad ignorance. We believe we’re living in a wonderful state of freedom, but we’re really bathing in the seas of confusion and darkness. That’s why the law brings such a shocking, heart-wrenching move to the life of a new follower of Jesus. Coveting, for example, comes very natural to us. It is the waters we swim in in our culture. We want what others have. Heck, we even have it enshrined in our declaration of independence, “Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.” What if our wife, our job, our living situation, our bed, our stove, our coffee isn’t making us happy? We get another one! 20/20 on ABC is airing an interview with John Edwards’ mistress Rielle Hunter this Friday. As much as we’d like to demonize this woman, she wanted what would make her happy and pursued it. Who are we to stand in the way of her happiness, if we she is to pursue it?  And apart from the statement, “Do not covet,” how can we stand in her way?

So we hear this declaration from an authority other than us, “Do not covet,” and if we believe with the smallest shred of faith that that authority is true, we have to deal with what has been spoken. There is no turning back to our prior ignorance.

“Sin, seizing the opportunity afforded by the commandment, produced in me every kind of coveting…when the commandment came, sin sprang to life and I died.”

I’d like to consider some of the different facets of how sin springs to life in response to a command. Coveting is good place to start. God gives a clear word. We at least care a little bit about what God says, so we’re at least somewhat affected by the command. How do we respond?

One way to respond is to separate between big and small things, “Well, God means don’t desire to steal a neighbor’s house from under them, but maybe there’s some wiggle room when it comes to his smaller possessions.” God anticipated this more incremental form of disobedience in the command in Deuteronomy 5. Not only should you not covet your neighbor’s wife (a big possession). You shall not set your desire on your neighbor’s house or land, his male or female servant, his ox or donkey, or ANYTHING that belongs to your neighbor.” I love how comprehensive this is. It’s as if God anticipated how crafty and scheming the human heart is in response to a command.

Another way to respond is to separate the outer and the inner. “Well, God means I shouldn’t outwardly pursue someone else’s possessions, but I can still kinda want it on the inside.” Jesus addressed this very clearly in his ministry, teaching that carrying a desire on the inside is no different than expressing it on the outside.

One of the most ancient and practiced human responses to God’s command is to call it vague and subjective when it is practical and clear. (repeat because of centrality)  Our response to the clear commands of God is (without quibbling, without philosophizing, without separating inner and outer, without protesting or grumbling) to obey. Comprehensively. And we quickly find this to be a paralyzing reality, as Paul moves on to confess,

“22 For in my inner being I delight in God’s law; 23 but I see another law at work in me, waging war against the law of my mind and making me a prisoner of the law of sin at work within me. 24 What a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body that is subject to death? 25 Thanks be to God, who delivers me through Jesus Christ our Lord! So then, I myself in my mind am a slave to God’s law, but in my sinful nature a slave to the law of sin.”

So Paul moves on from stating not only that the law isn’t sinful, but that he DELIGHTS in God’s law. So not only does the author of Psalm 1 before Jesus meditate on God’s law, but here a disciple of Jesus finds delight in the law of God. This is after the ministry, death, and resurrection of Jesus.  This is the apostle proclaiming grace.  He DELIGHTS in God’s law!  Would that change our perspective on Paul if we let that sink in a bit?  That’s a powerful statement!

And the pain that is dripping from every word of this paragraph is not the pain that comes from seeking to obey God when convenient, or when God’s commands seem to come more naturally. This pain comes from a person who clearly desires to renounce everything he once believed to be true and to follow his new Master, no matter what the cost. And this person, Paul, finds this pathway to be soul-crushingly hard. Paul has found how deep his human selfishness, how dark the depravity of his heart really is. He does not say he is totally depraved, but he gives a picture of just a small glimmer of light in a deep darkness. Keep in mind that he delights in the law of God! There is something in God’s command that awoke a joy, a desire in him, that had long lain dormant. And he wants to feed the flame of that joy so deeply that his sinfulness cuts him that much more painfully. Paul introduces a second law here. God’s law is good and right. But there is another law at work in him; the law of sin, that seeks to place him in chains. That is the law Paul is opposed to, not the law of God.

And now we reach chapter 8;
“Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus, 2 because through Christ Jesus the law of the Spirit who gives life has set you free from the law of sin and death. 3 For what the law was powerless to do because it was weakened by the sinful nature, God did by sending his own Son in the likeness of sinful humanity to be a sin offering. And so he condemned sin in human flesh, 4 in order that the righteous requirement of the law might be fully met in us, who do not live according to the sinful nature but according to the Spirit.

5 Those who live according to the sinful nature have their minds set on what the sinful nature desires; but those who live in accordance with the Spirit have their minds set on what the Spirit desires. 6 The mind governed by the sinful nature is death, but the mind governed by the Spirit is life and peace. 7 The mind governed by the sinful nature is hostile to God; it does not submit to God’s law, nor can it do so. 8 Those controlled by the sinful nature cannot please God. 9 You, however, are not controlled by the sinful nature but are in the realm of the Spirit, if indeed the Spirit of God lives in you.”

I proclaim to you, brothers and sisters, that here where Paul rejoices in being released from condemnation, not a single time…Not. One. Single. Time…does Paul speak negatively about the law of God. He mentions that the law is weakened by the sinful nature, but the law of God remains, the authority of God that stares human claims at independence in the face and scoffs, the command of God is VERY VERY GOOD. Paul simply adds in that in some mystical way, in the gift of Jesus’ ministry, death, and resurrection, we have been given a way out of our confusion and pain. We have been empowered to fully submit to and fully obey God. And we are governed by the Spirit, not left to govern ourselves. We have a master, and it is not ourselves, our personal perspectives. And it is most certainly not our experience. And the Spirit walks in step with the command of the Father and gift of the Son.

The assumption that Paul brings in this passage is NOT that God redeems people in their sinfulness and covers them in grace forevermore no matter what follows. Keep in mind that the heart-wrenching pain expressed in chapter 7, “In my inner being I delight in God’s law; but I see another law at work in me, waging war against the law of my mind and making me a prisoner of the law of sin at work within me. What a wretched man I am!” That pain, that anguish, is being experienced by a follower of Jesus AFTER having been empowered by the Spirit to battle against his sinfulness! Paul has not been delivered by Jesus to a life defined only by victory. No, Paul has been delivered to realize that he has a battle to fight! To use another metaphor, when we are delivered by Jesus at our moment of conversion, we have NOT reached the finish line. Instead, we have just stepped up to the starting line and begun to race.

The assumption that Paul brings into this proclamation of deliverance is the responsibility to actively battle against our sinful nature. We have not been set free from the command of God to live in a state of grace alone. We have been set free to revere the command of God, to cherish it, to seek it, and grace empowers us to make progress toward it. This sub-passage is all about orientation; are we oriented toward God? Are we listening? Is our self-will chastened? Is our desire to blunt the command of God kept in check?

“Those who live according to the sinful nature have their minds set on what the sinful nature desires; but those who live in accordance with the Spirit have their minds set on what the Spirit desires.” And if anyone does not have the Spirit of Christ, they do not belong to Christ. 10 But if Christ is in you, then even though your body is subject to death because of sin, the Spirit gives life because of righteousness. 11 And if the Spirit of him who raised Jesus from the dead is living in you, he who raised Christ from the dead will also give life to your mortal bodies because of his Spirit who lives in you.

12 Therefore, brothers and sisters, we have an obligation—but it is not to the sinful nature, to live according to it. 13 For if you live according to the sinful nature, you will die; but if by the Spirit you put to death the misdeeds of the body, you will live. 14 For those who are led by the Spirit of God are the children of God. 15 The Spirit you received does not make you slaves, so that you live in fear again; rather, the Spirit you received brought about your adoption to sonship. And by him we cry, “Abba, Father.” 16 The Spirit himself testifies with our spirit that we are God’s children. 17 Now if we are children, then we are heirs —heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ, IF indeed we share in his sufferings in order that we may also share in his glory.

I suspect when you heard verse 13, if you are like me, you were a bit uneasy, “For if you live according to the sinful nature, you will die; but if by the Spirit you put to death the misdeeds of the body, you will live.”

Aren’t you being a bit dramatic there, Paul? Do you have to cast the picture in such stark black and white categories? I’m more comfortable with the shades of gray conversation.

Yes, we would prefer our leaders to keep their words of instruction comfortably vague.
We would like to make truth into what is most palatable for our tastes.
But the life of discipleship is not primarily a series of vague ideas that we get to shape ourselves.
It is primarily a concrete divine command followed by a human “Yes.”

And MAN I felt uncomfortable with that IF in verse 17. We are heirs with God and co-heirs with Christ IF indeed we share in his sufferings. There’s another troublesome passage in the New Testament that states that “Jesus learned obedience through suffering.”

If the Son of God learned obedience through suffering, how can we suggest our pathway could be any different?

Vineyard Central is a Christian community that deeply values beauty, that deeply values individuality and diversity. In such a community, we learn to listen more closely to one another, to be challenged to see God in one another’s perspective, to believe that we haven’t fully arrived at the truth and can find it in one another through a shared life together. In this community, I am reminded I must live my life with a chastened approach to truth, believing I have never fully arrived, and if I ever believe I have arrived, you will remind me that I haven’t.

All of those things I value.

Yet it is tempting to make the whole thing about sharing different perspectives, valuing one another’s voices, and finding the truth somewhere in the mix. We cannot rest in that place primarily. We cannot primarily see the kingdom as a good idea for us to think about for awhile; a different perspective that causes us to slow down, or causes us to be surprised again by the beauty and love of God. We must not primarily access the kingdom through a good conversation with friends, even Christian ones.

No, we must primarily access the kingdom through falling to our knees and declaring that we are lost and that we need God.

This declaration of need is not a declaration of the need to see things differently, to consider things from a different perspective. It is instead a declaration that we are hopelessly lost, that we are deeply selfish and depraved, that we are so captured by the darkness that we no longer know what the light is. It is a declaration that because we are so lost and confused, we cannot construct our own meaning of life, cobbling together what works.

In summary,
I am not the authority.
We are not the authority.
God is the authority.
At times, God has spoken in mystical ways that require us to consider different points of view as we seek to live truthfully.
In many ways most of the time God has been bluntly simple. And our responsibility is to sit on our knees before God, listen, and do whatever needs to be done to fully obey that command until we die, without quitting, without drenching the command in cheap grace. The Spirit joins us in that lifelong struggle, empowering us to change; sometimes in big quick ways, but most of the time in small, uncomfortable ways where we learn to rejoice in small victories and lament the many failures and the slow pace of change.

This is the gospel. It requires all of us for a lifetime.
It must consume us, or it is not the gospel of Jesus.
It must transform us, or it is not the gospel of Jesus.
We must be different than our surrounding culture, or we do not follow the gospel of Jesus.
It is worth it. It is good news. It is painful. It is what we are created for.

Amen.