Pretender

Blessed is the man against whom the LORD counts no iniquity, and in whose spirit there is no deceit. – Psalm 32:2

This is a psalm about the power of confession and the pain of deceit.  It does not say that a person is blessed because he or she is sinless but because the Lord pardons sin.  We are reminded of what Jesus said about the lost sheep, that there is more rejoicing over the one that is found than over the ninety-nine that never strayed.  It only seems unfair until we realize that “we all like sheep have gone astray”. 

I’ve known a few people, as you probably have, who were saintly if not official saints.  To us, such holy people seem to have passed beyond the possibility of any human weakness, yet I’m sure every true saint would tell us that they are often grieved by their own faults, flaws, and failures.  The difference between the saint and the sinner is not in the fallen human nature both cannot help but share. 

A sinner clings to and defends what he thinks, says, and does.  He seeks, often desperately, to justify himself, and, in doing so, deceives himself.  The path to redemption begins with honesty.  “Blessed in the man … in whose spirit there is no deceit.”  The saint abandons pretense before the Lord.  He gives up any thought of self-justification, of defending his position, of making excuses for why he stumbled. 

By hiding behind carefully woven walls of exculpatory fig leaves, we may think we are safe.  As people who have been shot at know, there is a difference between cover and concealment.  Generally, fig leaves are not bulletproof.  The only person I am fooling with my elaborate but vacuous vindications is me.  Certainly, I should not insult God by thinking He does not know the truth.      

Jesus advised to us to agree with our adversary quickly.  My adversary, the devil, the accuser of the brethren, doesn’t have to make up much stuff on me.  The devil is a liar and the father of lies; nevertheless, he can tell the truth about some of us and still do his job.  I do try to make it harder for him anymore, but I don’t argue with him. 

For when I kept silent, my bones wasted away through my groaning all day long.  For day and night your hand was heavy upon me; my strength was dried up as by the heat of summer. Selah

I acknowledged my sin to you, and I did not cover my iniquity; I said, “I will confess my transgressions to the Lord,” and you forgave the iniquity of my sin. Selah 

(Psalm 32:3-5)

The Avenger

[Christ Jesus] whom God put forward as a propitiation by his blood, to be received by faith.  This was to show God's righteousness, because in his divine forbearance he had passed over former sins.  It was to show his righteousness at the present time, so that he might be just and the justifier of the one who has faith in Jesus.  — Romans 3:25-26

There are people who hear that God is good, that He is kind and loving and merciful, and they draw from that an erroneous conclusion.  On the surface it seems reasonable, and it is certainly pleasant.  The problem is that it ignores human reality.  The human race is depraved.  We can try to gloss over it.  We can point to the wonderful works of wonderful, kind, and generous people.  We can clean ourselves up and dress ourselves up and do good deeds.  Meanwhile we struggle to be honest.  We hurt the people closest to us in a myriad of ways — sometimes intentionally, sometimes inadvertently.  We think dark thoughts.  We crave what we cannot have.  We harbor envy and jealousy.  Or we simply fail to appreciate what we have been given.       

In light of fallen human nature, a genuinely good God cannot simply pat us on the back and say that He understands.  God is not like that.  He is terrifyingly honest.  He does not ignore or gloss over the truth.  He has given us all that we have, and He quite rightfully expects us to keep that in mind so that we are able to maintain a proper perspective on life and possessions.  Again, we can argue, as I often have, that we are relatively good people.  Graded on a curve with Pol Pot, Hitler, and Stalin — heck, with Congress, I don't do too badly.  And I can point to lots of people who are better than I am and not necessarily even Christians.  But one of the things Paul does in the first three chapters of Romans is take apart brick by brick the argument that humans have any ability to justify themselves against the absolute standard of a holy God. 

The perfection of God calls for justice, and justice demands perfection, and we ain't got it.  God, in response, offers satisfaction for His own justice.  This is the aspect of Christianity that bothers a lot of people — the sacrifice of the perfect, sinless Innocent for the unrighteous.  Why could God not simply forgive us?  Why could He not just continue forbearing, "passing over former sins"? 

The cosmos runs on laws, physical laws, yes, but also moral laws — like the law of the harvest:  Whatsoever a man sows, that shall he also reap.  Justice is more relentless than gravity.  You can overcome gravity for a time by expending enough energy, beating out the acceleration of gravity with a counter acceleration.  You can do the same thing with justice by expending moral energy in deception, self or otherwise.  But the cosmos demands things balance out.  The price for escaping justice must be paid.  Against God's plumb line, every human soul would deserve punishment. 

 When the tribes of Israel were about to enter Canaan, certain cities were set aside as “cities of refuge”.  If one man killed another, even by accident, the shed blood of the victim demanded the killer’s blood be poured into the scales of justice.  Someone, usually a member of the family of the deceased, was chosen to carry out the feud against the offender.  A feud is an expression, however distorted, of the balance demanded.  By fleeing to one of the cities of refuge, the killer could escape the inexorable pursuit of the avenger.  Once in the refuge, the person was put on trial.  If the evidence indicated an accidental killing, the refugee was not given up for execution.  He was allowed to stay in the city of refuge until the death of the high priest, at which time he was free to return to his home without fear of vengeance.  

 The condition for termination of the refugee’s exile is often overlooked.  The death of the high priest – Christ is, of course, our great High Priest of the new covenant.  In order for justice to be satisfied, even to settle the responsibility for an act without malice or intent, there had to be a death – an atoning death.  Because the Aaronic priesthood stood in and served God on behalf of their brethren, the Lord could accept the death of the high priest as atoning for the blood that was spilled in the land.   

 But even this was a temporary solution.  How does a loving God who is also a just God resolve the situation for His children made in His image and likeness?  Taking on our flesh, God descends and identifies with us in Christ that He might atone for all our sins.  He offers Himself to appease the demands of justice -- that is, to justify us and restore the equilibrium of righteousness.  

 Finally, I feel compelled to say, God takes the defilement of His world by the shed blood of the innocent very seriously.  The laws of the cosmos are perhaps stranger than I feel comfortable contemplating.  The sacrifice of Christ will cover my failure and preserve me but only as I am in Him.  

Stuck in the Middle with Who?

So if you have been raised with the Messiah, seek what is above, where the Messiah is, seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on what is above, not on what is on the earth. For you have died, and your life is hidden with the Messiah in God. When the Messiah, who is your life, is revealed, then you will be revealed with Him in glory. -- Colossian 3:1-4

I’ve been stuck on Colossians 3 for weeks it seems. As Romans 4:25 says, Jesus was delivered up – that is, crucified, for my trespasses, but He was raised from the dead for my justification. Not just me, of course, but I do need to make it personal. As far as God is concerned, the death of Jesus on the cross is the death of all old Adam’s race. It is the end of the line, the omega point for the old man. In Adam all died, so in Christ all are made alive, we are told.

Paul’s declaration sounds conditional, but it is really a statement that follows from a premise, “so if”, not just “if” – it means that I am raised with Christ. That being the case, I am called to seek what is above – in the vertical dimension. In that vertical realm it does not matter about my condition or situation in the horizontal for “above” I am in Christ at the position of authority. In Christ I am God’s right hand man. I am thus called to pay less attention to the earthly dimension and move my mind’s focus to the heavenly.

"When the Messiah is revealed" is not talking about the Second Coming primarily, or possibly at all. It is Christ being revealed to me right here.

This is why I think I’ve been stuck, because, again, it is about revelation. I think the Holy Spirit is building a hunger in me to see Jesus, as I have been talking about the last few days. My real life is now Christ’s life; my reality is now the vertical, the hidden, the unseen as opposed to what is visible in Flatland. The Lord is creating a desire for revelation that I have been avoiding.

Now who, in his right mind (not saying I am), who would refuse to accept the offer to see the Messiah? Actually, it’s not just me. It happened all the time in the Old Testament as individuals chosen by God to do His work had visitations of the “Angel of the Lord”; they all expected to die. In fact, they all did, though not physically as they expected. They died to their old nature – sometimes forever, other times only temporarily. The Angel of the Presence, whether physically visible or seen in the logos, is the Angel of Death to Adam’s children.

All the people witnessed the thunder and lightning, the sound of the trumpet, and the mountain surrounded by smoke. When the people saw it they trembled and stood at a distance. “You speak to us, and we will listen,” they said to Moses, “”but don’t let God speak to us, or we will die.” -- Exodus 20:18,19

I’ve been satisfied with the indirect approach, to being obedient without seeing Jesus, frankly because it requires not just occasional, temporary sanctification – enough to get me through a church service, or sufficient for filling in for the pastor on Wednesday night – but death, permanent unmitigated death to the flatlander within me.

In a little while the world will see Me no longer, but you will see Me. Because I live, you will live, too. In that day you will know that I am in My Father, you are in Me, and I am in you. The one who has My commands and keeps them is the one who loves Me. Ad the one who loves Me will be loved by My Father. I also will love him and will reveal Myself to him. -- John 14:19-21