Armed to the Teeth

Since therefore Christ suffered in the flesh,  arm yourselves with the same way of thinking, for whoever has suffered in the flesh has ceased from sin, so as to live for the rest of the time in the flesh no longer for human passions but for the will of God. – 1 Peter 4:1-2

This is similar to Paul’s instruction in verse 5 of Philippians chapter 2: “Have this mind among yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus….”  How we think is our protection against being entrapped and controlled by the world and its illusions.  If you tell someone these days that listening to certain kinds of music, reading some books, watching some shows on television, or looking at certain kinds of pictures on the internet is a bad idea, you are liable to get accused of legalism.  What you are really guilty of is common sense. 

If you have a well-developed sense of right and wrong and have come to comprehend what it means to reject self and take up the cross, a great deal of popular culture is going to make you uncomfortable -- at best.  When I started getting my life straightened out thirty-plus years ago -- I'm still working on it, you'll know I'm finished, mostly, when you hear I'm dead -- I was kind of an audiophile.  I had a big component system with a receiver, cassette deck, turntable, high-quality cartridge, and huge speakers, and I had dozens of albums.  I decided it was all too much of a distraction, and I needed some Christmas money, so I sold everything.  I remember, though I hated to see a lot of it go, feeling a sense of relief that it would no longer be there to draw me away.  

I didn't do it because somebody told me that I would go to hell if I didn't.  I didn't do it so I could tell people how holy I was.  I didn't even do it because I thought God would love me more.  I no longer wanted to live for my own passions and my own ends.  I didn't set foot in a movie theater for nearly twenty years.  The only show we would watch on television for a while was Dr. Quinn.  Having to listen to country music in some place like a restaurant made me almost ill -- some country music still has that effect.  

Some stuff I can genuinely enjoy, like Firefly, but I still have to be careful because it is so easy to pick up on the characters' way of thinking.  It's not that we don't understand these things are fictional and fantastic.  We do, but we also identify with them.  We admire courage and boldness, skill and ingenuity.  We want those things in our lives, and, similar to what Father Stephen is saying in the linked post, we end up feeding, strengthening and encouraging a self that really just needs to die.  We tend to pick up on whatever truth is contained in what is being said or sung or depicted and when we bring it in, some other not so elegant stuff tends to come along for the ride.

To stand strong against the world, the flesh, and the devil, to be identified with Christ, there are some things we may find it necessary to let go, for a time, or forever.  If it is pulling us down, we ought to turn it loose.  Think like Jesus.

What Do You Give the God Who Has Everything?

I appeal to you therefore, brothers, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship.  -- Romans 12:1

I had a good Christian friend, now gone on to his reward, who used to get upset about the idea of giving one’s sin to Jesus.  This is despite the fact that Scripture tells us the Lord bore all of our sins on the Cross.  His thought process was one that I have heard other people espouse in one form or another.  He would say, "Don't give your sins to Jesus!  God hates sin.  He judged sin in the crucified Christ.  Why would you think you could give Him your sin?  Give it up!"  I think my friend was correct in terms of the conclusion, given the premise, but the premise is false.  When we place our sins upon Christ, we are not saying that we can sin and Jesus can suffer the consequences like Dorian Gray’s portrait. 

Under the Law of Moses (look anywhere in Leviticus, especially with regard to Yom Kippur and the scapegoat), sin and guilt were symbolically placed upon a sacrificial animal most often by the laying on of hands.  The scapegoat, bearing the sins of God’s people, was led far into the wilderness from which it would never return.  In my twisted mind, I can imagine a herd of scapegoats wandering around some forgotten valley.  It might make a good science fiction story.  It would be a version of hell because that is where the sins of humanity went when Jesus was buried with all of our iniquities.  Those who refuse to accept this walk around under the burden and control of their sins and sin nature, even though Jesus said, Tel Telesti, it is finished.

But let’s say that we have gone to the altar, confessed our faults and failures, accepted Christ’s sacrifice and the forgiveness offered to us in Him.  If after that, we sin, what are we to do?  We confess again, according to 1 John 1:9 and find that God is still faithful and just to forgive our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness. 

I get tired of that.  I don’t want to sin at all, despite being a desperately wicked person.  I have noticed this about myself that the problem is less behavior than it is attitude and thinking most of the time.  I very rarely physically attack someone, but I may boil with rage about them.  I don’t pursue pretty women, but my appreciation of their beauty does occasionally exceed allowable limits.  So I can either walk around with my head down all the time lest my eye be held by immodest cleavage – which I have done, or I can decide that I am just a weak-willed, lecherous man and not worry too much about it. 

There might, though, be a third option.  What if I took my weakness and offered it to the Lord as a sacrifice?  Most often a sacrifice was not taken away like the scapegoat but slaughtered and part or all of it burned on the bronze altar as a “sweet smelling savor” unto the Lord.  Whether it is something we would like to do and should not, or something we have to do but would rather not, we can put it on the altar and offer it up to God.  That is the correct premise.  That is the power that Christ Jesus offers us by His own obedience. 

Take fasting as an example.  Fasting is not a hunger-strike against God.  When we fast, we offer the emptiness, the craving and the somewhat mild suffering we voluntarily endure as a sacrifice.  We ask the Lord to accept what we are doing as a gift of love to Him.  What do you get for the God who has everything? 

In the same way, we can take our impulses and urges, trials and temptations, our sickness, weariness, regret, failure, anything, and give it to the Lord.  We consciously and intentionally offer whatever it is to Him as an expression of our recognition of His worthiness, i.e., as worship.  

 Maybe you have to work through lunch and your fast is involuntary.  Your stomach is growling and you are getting light-headed because all you had for breakfast was three fried eggs and six pieces of bacon – you’re trying to cut back a little, and now this.  Instead of focusing on your pain, say, Lord, I’m going to offer the suffering that I am going through here to You.  I’m doing this for You.   When we are tired and have to keep going, when we are mistreated, when things, whatever they are, fall apart, we can offer it to the Lord. 

When we are tempted, instead of giving in, we say, Lord, I’m going to do the right thing and not the wrong thing for You.  Please accept this as an offering of gratitude and love for all You have given me.  I lay this dead aspect of my life on the fire of judgment, and I’m going to let it burn. 

I think that is the correct way of giving our sins to Jesus as an act of self-sacrifice and acceptable worship.  When we miss the mark and do fail and fall, we get up and go back to the altar and put the whole thing on there to be consumed, to go up before the Lord in smoke.  There is no sense trying to hide anything from God.   

Suffer for the Lord, and rejoice in the Lord; live for the Lord, and die for the Lord. 

The Mountain I Will Show You

After these things God tested Abraham and said to him, “Abraham!”

“Here I am,” he answered.

“Take your son,” He said, “your only son Isaac, whom you love, go to the land of Moriah, and offer him there as a burnt offering on one of the mountains I will tell you about.” -- Genesis 22:1-2

By faith Abraham, when he was tested, offered up Isaac; he who had received the promises was offering up his unique son, about whom it had been said, In Isaac you seed will be called. He considered God to be able even to raise someone from the dead … -- Hebrews 11:17-19

We could ignore unanswered prayer. We could assume that whatever it is we are praying for is not according to God’s will. We could move on and if not forget at least learn to live without that answer. Abraham had believed God and seen the promise fulfilled. He had obeyed the Lord in disinheriting and sending away Ishmael, the son of flesh, Adam in type, the old man. Now, here was Isaac, son of the spirit, son of obedience and faith, and God tells Abraham the only son whom he loves must be given up.

I would complain. I would say, Wait, this is not what I created out of my own power and ability. This is what You gave me, Lord. If You didn’t want me to have this, why give it in the first place? Why allow me to possess, cherish, depend upon, and love this gift then demand that I give it back? It is incomprehensible.

Though it seems reasonable to question such a demand, we have no record of any struggle Abraham had. He got up early in the morning and set out. Surely that must have been a trip that was both too long and too short. Traveling with his son by his side, Abraham would have listened to the young man’s pleasant voice talking about one thing and another, knowing there was a hill yet unseen they would have to climb, knowing the knife he carried would spill his own son’s blood, not in anger but in obedience. I can’t imagine the torment. He was a better man than I.

Abraham understood God as almighty, the One not hampered or hindered by anything. But, it is equally true, the One who cannot be helped by anything. It had finally come home to Abraham that he was not able to do anything, either good or bad apart from his God. We can cooperate with God’s will or oppose it. He will get the job done regardless. Our opposition will cause us pain, but it cannot alter His ultimate purpose. No matter how much our assistance or resistance appears to accomplish temporarily, in the end we have not moved anything.

It is easy enough for us to understand the need for purification from the lusts of the flesh, for separation from the world, the flesh, and the devil – easy to understand, not so easy to do sometimes. Sending Ishmael away makes sense at least, no matter how painful it may be for us. In place of the flesh, the Lord gives us gifts of the Spirit. He gives us peace and assurance. He brings people into our lives. We have love and joy and fellowship.

The thing is, at some point, we must choose between the gifts and the Giver. If we walk with the Lord long enough, we will endure the long, dark night of the soul. We must be willing to relinquish the gifts and blessings of the Lord, even His presence for a time. We will find ourselves in a valley facing a long, steep climb to a place we do not want to go. We believe in God the Creator, who calls things into existence that do not exist. We must learn at last to believe in Him who is the Resurrection, who gives life to the dead. Then, like Abraham, we will cling to nothing except Him, and we will face, not only our own death, but every little death, and death itself without fear.

Not all who wander are lost ... unless they are going in circles

The last few days, I have been taking advantage of the milder weather to put in some new fence and clear out an old fencerow so I can put in some more. Perhaps the pain put me in the right mood to hear what the Preacher has to say.

All the streams flow into the sea, yet the sea is never full. The streams are flowing to the place, and they will flow there again. All things are wearisome; man is unable to speak. The eye is not satisfied by seeing or the ear filled with hearing. What has been is what will be, and what has been done is what will be done; there is nothing new under the sun. – Ecclesiastes 1:7-9

We like the idea of progress. There must be something in the human psyche that craves moving forward, getting bigger and better. “New and Improved!” invariably gets our attention.

The Preacher tells us that we do not move forward but in a never-ending circle. He says that nothing is ever really new and very little is ever improved. Having more is not the same as having better, or even different. In the view of Ecclesiastes, life is cyclical, and each day is a wearisome round like the one that went before it, and like the one to follow it. Nothing is ever really accomplished in this world, for the best efforts of man will wear down, wear away, crumble and fall to the relentless, cynical work of time and decay.

Progress, as the world system uses the word, is meaningless. It simply moves us further around the circumference of the circle. It neither moves the center, nor moves us toward the center. In The Two Towers, Sam and Frodo find themselves in the mountains trying to get to the Black Gate of Mordor. Between the terrain and the overcast sky, it is difficult for the hobbits to get their bearings. “This looks strangely familiar,” Sam says.

Frodo replies, “We’ve been here before.”

My father, brother and I were out coyote hunting with our hounds one cold, snowy day. We left the truck up on a road and walked in a mile or so to where the dogs were running. After the race broke up, we caught the hounds and started back to the truck. The ground was covered with about four inches of snow, the going was a little tough and it seemed to be taking a long time to get to the road.

We came into a little opening and saw a stretch of greatly disturbed snow. “Looks like a herd of deer must have crossed,” my brother said.

My dad was in front and looked down, “And the sneaky bastards have took to wearin’ rubber boots like ours.”

When we are wandering in circles, we need to re-orient. We need something we can go by, a landmark to head toward. Sometimes it helps to reach a higher elevation, to get above the ground clutter that is confusing us. Our hearts are yearning for progress, but it is a “pilgrim’s progress” – not living in the same circle until we decay and die. We seek not change, but transformation, to become whole, rising higher to see the true goal of life. Christ breaks out of the circle.

For the Messiah did not enter a sanctuary made with hands (only a model of the true one) but into heaven itself, that He might now appear in the presence of God for us. He did not do this to offer Himself many times, as the high priest enters the sanctuary yearly with the blood of another. Otherwise, He would have had to suffer many times since the foundation of the world. But now He has appeared one time, at the end of the ages, for the removal of sin by the sacrifice of Himself. And just as it is appointed for people to die once – and after this, judgment – so also the Messiah, having been offered once to bear the sins of many, will appear a second time, not to bear sin, but to bring salvation to those who have been waiting for Him. – Hebrews 9:24-28

The Bible tells us that the annual, endless cycle of sacrifices in the Tabernacle and the Temple served only to remind us of our sin. No one was really released from the human condition, from the circle of ages that never moved us forward.

Jesus said, “When I am lifted up, I will draw all men to Me.” Moses elevated the bronze serpent on a pole so that everyone could see it, and those who looked upon it lived. God raised Christ up on the Cross, He gave us a landmark, a point of orientation to lead us out of the wilderness and get us on the path to home.

Who is that Masked Man?

Do not lie to one another, since you have put off the old man with his practices and have put on the new man, who is being renewed in knowledge according to the image of his Creator. Here there is not Greek and Jew, circumcision and uncircumcision, barbarian, Scythian, slave and free; but Christ is all in all -- Colossians 3:9-11

When the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, He identified with man. When a person offered an animal sacrifice under the Law, he placed his hands on the head of the creature, ritually placing his own sins upon the offering and identifying with it. Without the identification, the sacrifice was meaningless – they were just slaughtering another lamb.

Much Christian talk and teaching rightfully focuses on what Jesus did for us. He bore the penalty of our sins. Like the scapegoat in the Old Testament, He bore our sins out of sight. Or, as Donnie McClurkin sings:

Living He loved me
Dying He saved me
Buried He carried my,
My sins far away
Rising He justified me
Freed me forever
One day he’s coming back –
Glorious day!

The other side of the coin is our identification with Christ, and Paul’s letter to the Colossians begins to emphasize that in the third chapter, where I’ve been stuck for a while, as I mentioned a few posts back.

The scapegoat and the sacrificial lambs were just a shadow, a little drama showing us truth. Offering my sacrifice, I could only be sincerely sorry for my bad actions and resolve to be a better man. I could use that symbolic act like a piton driven into the rock on an otherwise impossible face. It allowed me to stay in touch with God, to continue to receive blessings and benefits. The trouble is, as we are told in Hebrews, the blood of bulls and goats can never take away sin. It has to be repeated. The high priest can never rest, never sit down and say, “It’s finished. The payment is complete.”

Jesus came as our Great High Priest, became fully man, emptying Himself of His glory yet never ceasing to be God. He identified completely with us, to be tested and to suffer as a man. He then offered the ultimate sacrifice of Himself. On the cross, He said, “It is finished. It is paid in full forever.” When He ascended, unlike the sons of Aaron, He sat down.

When a baby is born it does not know what it is, let alone who it is. It has to identify with someone. I am like my father, not just because I have some of the same genetic material, but because I identified with him. Someone took a picture of me not too long ago. When I saw it some time later it took me a couple of minutes to realize it was not Dad. I do look a little like him physically but that wasn’t what fooled me -- it was the facial expression which is just so typical of him that I thought it was on his face.

To be spiritually born from above puts me back to that point where I don’t know who or what I am. As Jesus said to the sons of thunder, “You really don’t know what kind of spirit you’ve got there, boys.” Unlike an infant born of the flesh, however, the spiritual infant literally grows by identification. It is possible, I fear, to remain a helpless, amorphous infant spiritually for many years. I do not know what happens to one who dies physically in that condition. I would imagine it’s pretty shocking. It is certainly not meant to be.

I identified with the old natural man for a long time. Like my father’s expression, it can almost be a mask that hides who is really in the picture. It is a lie about what and who I really am. I need to end the lie, end the deception, stop living as a persona, drop the actor’s mask. What, as your mama used to say, if your face freezes like that?

It’s time to drop all the racial, tribal, and sectarian identities as being meaningful. They can be good fun and there’s nothing wrong with that, but they do no touch the core of what we are. Christ alone is my identity, just as I am His identity.