Trivialities

Anyone familiar with Matthew 23 knows that when you read that chapter, you are entering Jesus’ most intense and direct criticism of the religious world into which He was sent as redeemer. It all seems to revolve around the primary concern on the part of Jesus that the religious teachers were teaching one thing and doing something else. “Do whatever they teach you and follow it,” Jesus says, “but do not do as they do, for they do not practice what they teach.” (23:3)

Jesus then proceeds to announce a series of seven woes, each of them denouncing the emptiness of religious ritual that isn’t acted out in the daily living of those who lead. In six of the seven statements of woe, Jesus uses the word hypocrite as the indictment of their approach to serving God. In one of the statements (beginning in vs. 16) the indicting phrase is “blind fools.”

For me, the most telling of this series of indicting comments on how faith sometimes gets practiced is the one found in verses 23 and 24. There Jesus acknowledges their attention to detail – they “tithe mint, dill, and cumin.” That’s pretty intense. They are determined, apparently, to tithe everything – even the tiny little value produced by the herb garden in their backyards. 

But in doing that, they have ignored “the weightier matters of the law: justice and mercy and faith.” In my mind, I can see them walking by a man like Lazarus in Luke’s story of the rich man and Lazarus (Luke 16:19ff) while rushing to get to the Temple with a teaspoon of dill as the tithe from this year’s crop. Jesus doesn’t suggest that they should not have tithed – but that it is so easy for religious people to let trivial things trump the gospel. 

This little statement ends with the absurdity of straining out the gnats, while choking on a camel. Both gnats and camels were “unclean” according to the Law, but how odd that they would make sure the tiny little gnats were strained out as they attempted to swallow a camel whole. 

My guess is that these ancient Jewish teachers aren’t the last people to choke to death on camel stew! The truth is that we often allow trivial things to get in the way of what is essential to being just, merciful, and faithful. William Willimon talks about this reality in his book Calling and Character. In a chapter talking about the sacrifices that those called to ministry must face, he says, “The cross teaches us to have no qualms about suffering in service to the gospel. What is immoral is not one’s suffering in service to the gospel, but rather one’s suffering in service to triviality.” (page 113)

Leave it to Jesus to not give us the simple answer we so desperately want. We live in an age where we are drawn to “simple and easy” and yet Jesus seems so unimpressed by “simple and easy.” So He doesn’t tell me in this text to just ignore what, in comparison to justice, and mercy, and faith seem so trivial. Rather He tells me don’t let the fact that I do those trivial things convince me that I can ignore the more weighty things.   Allowing the weightier things to have a place in my life is what gives the trivial things real meaning.

Jesus doesn’t seem to be “anti-ritual” here as much as He seems to want ritual to have meaning. That happens only to the extent that we allow gospel to trump trivialities. Even if I end up suffering for the gospel – I should not be reluctant – have no qualms about it.

Sometime around mid-November we believers in the US start thinking about thanksgiving. Despite more and more commercial encroachment every year, it still seems to me to be the most untarnished of our holidays. Perhaps this year’s season of thanksgiving can be a time to look carefully at our own lives in the context of gospel versus triviality. We can thank God for those times when gospel trumped trivialities and ask for His help in getting better at justice, mercy, and faith as opposed to tithing the herb garden!

Choking to death on camel stew seems a painful way to go!

The Psalms of Ascent

Psalms 120 – 134 all have a title in the Hebrew text which is often translated something like “A Song of Ascents.” While it is probably impossible to say with any absoluteness, many scholars believes these psalms were sung by ancient Jewish travelers as they came to Jerusalem for the major feasts – “ascending up Mount Zion” as it were to worship God.

Eugene Peterson, back in the 1990s, wrote a wonderful study of these psalms titled A Long Obedience in the Same Direction. That book has been updated and remains in print and focuses on the challenge of being a follower of God in a culture where everything must happen instantly.

For the past several  weeks I have been reading and re-reading these psalms. Not in the sense of wanting to interpret them, discover what intriguing Hebrew word might be behind some English word, and all the “stuff” that might go along with good Bible study habits. Rather, I’ve been just reading them. Often, I’ve taken advantage of the nice weather and read them as I walked around outside – thinking that the ancient Jews who first read them probably weren’t sitting in a temperature controlled office or home, replete with a comfortable chair, good lighting, and all sorts of reference works should they want to dig into something in these psalms.  These are traveling psalms – perhaps best meant to just be read and absorbed.

They cover a wide array of life issues – and speak powerfully to God’s care and provision for His people in the midst of struggle.  “I called, He answered” is right at the beginning in Psalm 120. Each of these wonderfully written poems describes something about my life with God that is refreshing. And I must say – reading them outside in the world God made, has proven to be a great reminder that “my help comes from the Lord, Maker of heaven and earth.” (121:2; 124:8)  It is Psalm 133 that reminds us of the blessed experience of brothers and sisters dwelling together in unity. Psalm 134 ends the Psalms of Ascent with a prayer that “the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth, bless you from Zion.”

Less than a month from today is Thanksgiving. We are living in a time when, looking in one direction, it seems that blessing are ours in ways too great for us to count – even if we follow that old hymn’s advice and “name them one by one.” Yet, in a different direction, we are troubled in ways that frighten us when we try to imagine the destination of a culture so determined to walk away from “whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable – if anything is excellent or praiseworthy.” (Philippians 4:8)

It is almost as though we are somehow being ripped apart by opposing forces – the goodness of the blessings of God and the world He created surround us while the ever-creeping presence of godless outlooks get closer and closer.

The Psalms of Ascent can give perspective – in so many ways I just described the very world the ancient Jews who first read them lived in as I spoke of our own world.

So, if you are looking for an exercise in spiritual formation for the next 30 or so days, as we head up to the mountain of holidays called Thanksgiving, l invite you to join me in daily reading the Psalms of Ascent – 120 – 134 – outside if at all possible. Let God, the Maker of heaven and earth, speak to your heart through these words in the context of the very world He made.

I’m guessing that it could make Thanksgiving this year even more meaningful.

(Should you decide to join me in this activity, I would love to hear from you – wye.huxford@point.edu – about your experience.)

God's Character, and Mine

Matthew 5:48 is a part of the Sermon on the Mount and that in itself should be a bit of a warning that it is one of the biblical texts that can make you uncomfortable. That is especially true if our relationship to Jesus is more casual than intentional.

But here is what it says, “Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect.” (NRSV) This is one of those places where we might be tempted to stop reading and say, “Really, Jesus?” The word typically translated “perfect” ultimately seems to reflect the idea of having fully attained what something was designed to be. As creatures made in God’s image,  such perfection would be that moment when we fully live out God’s intentional purposes for humans when He made us in the first place.

This futuristic command is the summary statement for a series of comments from Jesus on such topics as murder, adultery, divorce, false swearing, revenge and loving your neighbor and hating your enemy.  Jesus seems to believe that they have, over the years of having been entrusted with the Law, missed the point of much of what the Law had to say. 

When we start reading Scripture as God intended it to be read (or specifically in the case of this particular text, the Law) then the idea that our character and God’s character will cross paths seems a reasonable thing for Jesus to command. The whole Sermon on the Mount may best be understood as a description of what Israel would have looked like had Israel read the Law as God intended. Thus, instead of thinking as long as we didn’t murder someone, we were okay with God; or as long as we didn’t actually commit the act of adultery we were okay with God, etc. we would know that the tendency of religious people to focus on behavior rather than character is always a fatal mistake. Hence Jesus’ command – “Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect.” 

This idea has led me to think that when I read Scripture, study Scripture, argue with Scripture, or all the other things we might do with Scripture – nothing could be more important than to always ask two fundamental questions: [a] what does this text teach me about God’s character; and [b] how can I learn to emulate that aspect of God’s character in my life – so that I can “be perfect as my heavenly Father is perfect?”

When I start reading Scripture this way, it suddenly speaks to my life in ways I didn’t realize it could – or perhaps in some cases, didn’t believe it did. I no longer have to ask “where’s that verse that tells me how Christians should react to immigration issues?” I can simply reflect upon “how does God react to the immigration issue?” It isn’t a matter of finding a verse about health care for everyone, but treating others like God does. In other words, it simply is a matter of “being as complete in fulfilling the purpose for which we were made, as God is complete.”

I know that’s a tall order. But I didn’t give it – Jesus did. Paul evidently saw it as important, in Romans 15:7 he says, “Welcome one another, therefore, just as Christ has welcomed you, for the glory of God.” Wrestling with the idea of God’s character as the model for our own may occasionally leave us with a limp – it seems to have done that for Jacob, why not us? (Genesis 32:22ff) But how greater the blessing of a limp because we have struggled to be like God, than the perfect gait of one who never thought that life really is about character before it is about behavior.

Smug Has to Go

WSB Radio in Atlanta has the best traffic reports every morning and afternoon during what often seems to be endless rush hours. If you know anything at all about Atlanta traffic, you know that Capt. Herb and his crew on WSB can be a huge help.

The preacher from one of Atlanta’s larger churches often buys thirty second spots on WSB Radio, and sometimes on television stations. (His last name, by the way, isn’t Stanley.) He actually says some pretty good things – often focusing on marriage, parenting, and living a meaningful life. But every time I hear one of those spots I instantly think “he sounds a little smug,” and then I wonder how non-believers respond to them. 

I’m not saying this particular preacher is smug. I met him once and he was very personable and cordial. What I am wondering, though, is whether or not you can really talk about the moral and social implications of the Christian gospel to an audience that isn’t exclusively Christian without sounding a bit smug. While the gospel and its implications for life make so much sense to us, can we discover a way to talk about it without sounding a bit smug to people for whom they don’t make much sense?

Tim Keller, in his book Center Church, says “A missional church, if it is to reach people in a post-Christian culture, must recognize that most of our more recently formulated and popular gospel presentations will fall on deaf ears because hearers will be viscerally offended or simply unable to understand the basic concepts of God, sin, and redemption.” (page 272) In other words, we come off sounding rather smug!

Keller goes on to say, “This fact does not, however, require a change in the classic Christian doctrines, but rather skillfulness in contextualizing them so our gospel presentations are compelling even to people who are not (yet) fully persuaded by them.” (page 272) Clearly the issue isn’t that we have to make the challenge of the gospel go away – but to discover a way to talk about the challenge so that others will listen to us.

There has to be some tension between the content of the gospel itself and our discovery of the most appropriate way to talk about the gospel. And perhaps we could use a reminder that the gospel is, first and foremost, about Jesus. Most of us would probably agree that among the most troubled spots Paul every planted a church was Corinth. Their theological and sociological problems are legendary. Yet Paul can say “we preach Christ and Him crucified.” (1 Corinthians 1:18-25)

It seems odd to me to listen to the helpful tone of Capt. Herb tell me an alternative route followed by the smug Christian voice telling me what is right for my life. Getting your marriage right or your role as a parent right seems a little more complicated that a traffic jam and it will take a little more than the nearest alternative route.  But the gospel so often comes across in such smug, you-know-I-am-right tones that unless I really am committed to following Him, the mere smugness of it all closes my ears.

The smugness factor often makes us appear more anti-culture than cross-cultural. The more cross-cultural we are, the more likely we are to transform the world we live in. The more anti-cultural we are, the less likely others will even hear what we’re saying, much less allow it to transform them. Of course our greatest testimony to the world about the uniqueness of the Christian gospel is not a radio ad we pay for, but our willingness to serve others – “labors of love” as Paul describes it in 1 Thessalonians 1 – as we bring God’s grace to bear on the daily reality of living in this world.

Known by God

Psalm 139 begins with the intriguing reality that God knows us. “O Lord, you have searched me and you know me. You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thoughts from afar. You discern my going out and my lying down; you are familiar with all my ways. Before a word is on my tongue you know it completely, O Lord.” (139:1-4) Verses  1-18 of Psalm 139 speak to God’s omniscience  at every turn – leading some to describe these words as the most detailed text in Scripture about omniscience and God.

At one level this is all very comforting. Later in the text the psalmist declares “even the darkness will not be dark to you.” (12) Those words are, in part, the answer to the great question posed in Psalm 139, “where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence?” ((7) Apparently there isn’t a place I can go that is beyond God’s reach. That’s a comforting reality.

But on another level, it could be a bit disturbing. Our tendency to compartmentalize life into public and private categories breaks down at every level when it comes to what God knows about us. What I ought to see as comforting, becomes daunting and intimidating when my life is focused on the compartment that I assume God doesn’t know about. The psalm ends with words that I remember from an old hymn in the old, blue Great Hymns of the Church that was the standard fare in my little home church. “Search me, O God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thought. See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.” (23,24) More than a request, these words seem to be saying that the psalmist will pass the test – the Lord will find nothing offensive in his heart.  Can I truly pray these words to the Lord with confidence? Or do the words seem to be a bit disturbing?

All of this is a part of why Paul’s words in Galatians 4:9 seem to leap off the page every time I read them. They are a part of a paragraph that begins back in chapter 3 with the reminder that “you are all sons of God through faith in Christ Jesus.”   (3:26)   That is followed by “you are one in Christ Jesus” (3:28) because having clothed ourselves with Christ through baptism, the old gender, geography, and group distinctions disappear. But as is so often the case in Galatians, Paul quickly warns his readers of the danger that comes when somehow gender, geography, and group distinctions reenter the picture. “But now that you know God – or rather are known by God – how is it that you are turning back to those weak and miserable principles?” (4:9)

What is the difference in “knowing God” and “being known by God?” Could Paul possibly be thinking of the words of Psalm 139, reminding his readers that having become a part of God’s kingdom – “Abraham’s seed and heirs according to the promise” – God knows us in ways that are not true in the normal course of God’s omniscience? Should we think that because we are the sons and daughters of God, He pays more attention to our hearts? Did anyone every tell me that when I came to point in life where "I know God," it could mean that I am "known by God" in ways beyond the norm?

In some ways that really is comforting; but in other ways it can be disturbing. It gets me right back to the question asked earlier, “Can I truly pray these words to the Lord with confidence?” If I ask God to “search my heart” will He discover a public heart that people pat on the back and a private heart that would embarrass me?  

I learned in my first theology class that one of the big “o” words to describe God was that He is omniscient. We probably read words from Psalm 139 to show that the Bible teaches that to be true. What I don’t remember learning back then was that it could be possible that God knows my heart as a Christian in ways that go beyond “just knowing” – whatever that is.

“Known by God” is a daunting reality and, when recognized in the context of who God is, could be the impetus we all need to leave the compartmental approach to life behind in the name of “having this mind in you which was also in Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 2:5)