Godliness

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Reasons for godliness - 18 May 2009

A (non-exhaustive) list of reasons for godliness.

Jesus says so (e.g. Mt 5:48)
Witness to unbelievers (e.g. 1 Pet 2:12)
Example to other believers (e.g. 2 Th 3:9; Phil 3:17)
Live up to our heavenly status (e.g. Phil 3:16)
To ‘gain a better resurrection’ (Heb 11:35)
Because one day everyone will see (1 Cor 3:13)
To strengthen, preserve and enrich our relationships with others (e.g. Phil 4:2ff.)
To fulfil our creation mandate (Gen 1:26; 2:16-17)
To glorify the One who prepared good works for us to do, and who empowers us to do them (e.g. Eph 2:10)

Thx JP

No one ever drifted into maturity - 12 May 2009

In 1 Kings 12, Rehoboam rejects the counsel of the ‘old men’ (v. 6) in favour of the advice of ‘the young men [hayladiym, lit. 'the boys'] who had grown up with him’ (v. 12). Rehoboam is 41 years old when he becomes king (14:21), so the description of his contemporaries as ‘boys’ is ironic, and deliberately insulting.

They are boys … in their youthful folly and adolescent bravado … Rehoboam’s folly is a characteristic folly of a ‘boy,’ a young man who chooses advisors full of youthful pride, cockiness and crudity, the type of companion against whom Proverbs warns repeatedly (13:20; 28:7; cf. Ps. 119:63). (Leithart, 1 and 2 Kings, p. 92.)

Christian men must heed this warning, or we shall very likely repeat Rehoboam’s stupidity. Unless we pay careful attention to our godliness, it’s possible to still be boys in our early forties, being ‘men’ only in the sense that we’re now big enough to do damage. Boys will be boys; men must not be. But the example of Rehoboam and ‘the boys’ reminds us that this won’t happen automatically. No one ever drifted into maturity.

Everything matters - 23 April 2009

Lots of Christians struggle at various times with the notion that the things that they spend their time doing have little significance. Changing nappies; washing the dishes; driving the kids to school, brownies, and football practice – what’s the point of it all?

Well, the Bible teaches that everything Christians do is significant. Let’s start with 1 Corinthians 15:58:

Therefore, my beloved brothers, be steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, knowing that in the Lord your labour is not in vain.

Here’s how we sometimes (instinctively?) read it:

Alright, everyone, stand firm, be steadfast, immovable, and always make sure you’re doing the Lord’s work, not that other ’secular’ stuff that you’re always fussing about. All that worldly work is pointless; only gospel-work has any real purpose.

But that’s not what the text says. Here’s a literal (if slightly wooden) translation:

Therefore, my beloved brethren, steadfast you must remain, and immovable, abounding in the work of the Lord always, knowing that your labour is not in vain in the Lord.

The crucial thing is that, for a Christian, there are not two sorts of work: ‘labour in the Lord’, and ‘labour not in the Lord’. Look carefully at the text. ‘In the Lord’ does not qualify ‘labour’, defining a subset of our tasks as significant. Rather, it explains why all our ‘labour is not in vain’. There’s only one sort of work: labour / work in the Lord. All our ‘labour’ is ‘in the Lord’, because we are ‘in the Lord’.

This is why Paul is able to say ‘abounding in the work of the Lord always.’ We’ve got to eat, and sleep, and wash the dishes, and answer emails, and stuff. Paul is not forbidding us from eating and drinking, insisting instead that we devote ourselves to some kind of super-spiritual ‘labour in the Lord’. Rather, he’s saying that all our labour is ‘labour in the Lord’, and therefore none of it is in vain. Like in 1 Cor 10:31, ‘whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God.’

So we should actually understand the text a bit more like this:

Alright, everyone, stand firm, be steadfast, immovable, knowning that every single thing you do is the Lord’s work, and therefore nothing is ever in vain.

Thus everything we do is significant. Though we haven’t yet articulated precisely how, we can say with confidence that everything matters.

Drink it in - 21 April 2009

There’s a place called Suffering, Affliction, Death, and on it shines a spotlight called Comfort, Deliverance, Resurrection.

You can have your thirst quenched unless you’re thirsty.

You can’t be comforted unless you’re in trouble.

You’ve got to die if you want to rise.

Troubles are a canvas for a painting of God’s power.

2 Corinthians 1:1-11. Fabulous. Switch on, sit back, drink it in.

Study guide to Mahaney - 19 April 2009

Neil Robbie, Minister of Holy Trinity Church, West Bromwich, has applied his considerable pastoral nous to producing some study notes for C. J. Mahaney’s Living the Cross-Centered Life. If you’ve enjoyed these snippets of Mahaney’s fabulous little book, Neil’s study guide would be well worth a look.

Try telling that to your cow - 19 April 2009

The Sabbath is not just about taking a rest; it’s about giving a rest.

It’s not just something you do (for yourself); it’s something you bestow (on others).

Why else would there be a Sabbath for the land and the animals in the OT?

Sabbath-rest is something the people of God should be ready to bestow on those whom they spend time with – unbelieving friends and family, for example – regardless of whether those people understand what’s going on. The OT people of God were commanded to grant rest to their animals (Ex 20:10), which presumably means that the animals got a day off work. The cows were not sent out into the fields just because they couldn’t understand the Bible study.

Let your family and friends share in the rest you enjoy on the Lord’s Day.

HT Toby Sumpter

How many times must I forgive my brother? - 17 April 2009

C. J. Mahaney on forgiving others:

When I become bitter or unforgiving toward others, I’m assuming that the sins of others are more serious than my sins against God. The cross transforms my perspective. Through the cross I realize that no sin committed against me will ever be as serious as the innumerable sins I’ve committed against God. When we understand how much God has forgiven us, it’s not difficult to forgive others. (Living the Cross-Centered Life, pp. 154-155)

A sneaking suspicion - 17 April 2009

Too many Christians feel guilty, unable to get over the sneaking suspicion that they’re just too bad for God to deal with.

Some insightful questions from C. J. Mahaney’s Living the Cross-Centered Life, to help us diagnose the problem:

Do you relate to God as if you were on a kind of permanent probation, suspecting that at any moment He may haul you back into the jail cell of His disfavor?

When you come to worship to you maintain a ‘respectful distance’ from God, as if He were a fascinating but ill-tempered celebrity known for lashing out at His fans?

Are you more aware of your sin than you are of God’s grace, given to you through the cross? (p. 125)

And finally, a quick reminder:

Don’t buy the lie that wallowing in your shame is pleasing to God. (p. 126)

Legalism - 16 April 2009

Legalism unpacked, by C. J. Mahaney:

A legalist is anyone who behaves as if they can earn God’s forgiveness through personal performance. …. It says to God, in effect, ‘Your plan didn’t work. The cross wasn’t enough and I need to add my good works to it to be saved.’ …. Legalism is essentially self-atonement for the purpose of self-glorification and ultimately for self-worship. It is the pinnacle of pride for me to assume that by my good works I could ever morally obligate God to forgive me, justify me, or accept me. (Living the Cross-Centered Life, pp. 113-114)

This present darkness - 16 April 2009

Another great one-liner from C. J. Mahaney’s Living the Cross-Centered Life:

Regardless of how dark a day becomes, regardless of the severity of the anguish we’ll experience, He’s always present… and that is sufficient. (p. 101)

Better than I deserve - 15 April 2009

The best spontaneity is planned spontaneity, and C. J. Mahaney is a master of it.

It was a crowded morning in Starbucks. I was standing with several customers who formed two parallel lines leading toward the counter. As my turn came to step forward and order coffee, the young man serving me smiled and said, ‘Hey, how are you?’ …. ‘Better than I deserve,’ I answered. (Living the Cross-Centered Life, p. 59)

Who d’you think you’re looking at? - 15 April 2009

C. J. Mahaney notes Sinclair Ferguson’s observation that evangelicals tend to be ‘far better at looking inward than we are at looking outward. Instead, we need to expend our energies admiring, exploring, expositing, and extolling Jesus Christ’ (Living the Cross-Centered Life, p. 40).

Pastoral objectivity - 15 April 2009

C. J. Mahaney, Living the Cross-Centered Life, p. 35:

The humble are those whose first response to objective truth from God’s Word is not to ask, ‘How do I feel?’ but to say, ‘I’m not going to let my faith be determined and directed by the subjective and the experiential. Instead I confess before God that I will believe the objective truth of His Word, regardless of how I feel.’

Living the Cross-Centered Life - 15 April 2009

C. J. Mahaney’s Living the Cross-Centered Life is a wonderful book. Even Al Mohler’s foreword has some truly memorable one-liners:

I need to warn you that reading this book will not be a safe and static experience. After all, the cross isn’t about playing it safe; it’s about being found safe in Christ. (p. 9)

God never lets go - 13 April 2009

There are two ways in which God can keep hold of us, just as there are two ways in which a parent can keep hold of a child.

One way is to hold our hand. That way we can feel him near us, just as a child can feel the gentle squeeze and reassuring warmth of Mum’s hand .

The other way is rather like those reins that parents sometimes use to restrain their kids. They’re a bit like a slimmed-down parachute harness. Really handy – if the kid heads toward trouble, you can just haul him out of the way in no time.

The difference, of course, if that it’s not always possible to feel the reins, just as we don’t always feel God’s closeness to us. But just like a parent holding tight to the reins, God is always holding us tight, even when we don’t feel him.

Remember this when you’re praying Psalm 22. While we can legitimately pray v. 1: ‘My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?’ remember that we’re never truly forsaken. For Christ was utterly forsaken once for all in our place, and has transformed that path of forsakenness from a place of punishment to a road towards maturity.

Not like their fathers - 12 April 2009

I know a number of Christian couples whose parents, grandparents and extended families are composed entirely of unbelievers. This can be depressing – sticking out at family gatherings like a bunch of flowers at a shotgun convention.

To such couples Psalm 78:5-8 offers great encouragement.

He established a testimony in Jacob and appointed a law in Israel, which he commanded our fathers to teach to their children, that the next generation might know them, the children yet unborn, and arise and tell them to their children, so that they should set their hope in God and not forget the works of God, but keep his commandments; and that they should not be like their fathers, a stubborn and rebellious generation, a generation whose heart was not steadfast, whose spirit was not faithful to God. (Psalm 78:5-8)

Every thousand-generation dynasty of faithful Christian believers will be able to trace its lineage back to its first parents.

Pray that God would grant you that privilege.

Pragmatism is traditionalism - 6 April 2009

In an earlier post, I noted Tuchman’s criticism of the realpolitik of the Rennaisance papacy under Julius II, whereby the Pope pursued what he regarded as good ends by what could only be regarded as corrupt means. Tuchman argues that under such circumstances ‘the process of gaining power employs means that degrade or brutalize the seeker, who wakes up to find that power has been possessed at the price of virtue – or moral purpose – lost’ (March of Folly, p. 103).

It’s worth pausing for a moment to ask why such pragmatism is such a bad idea. In one sense, pragmatism per se is OK. It’s fine to do things that work. The problem lies with pragmatism as a guide to moral decisions, resting on the (often unstated) dichotomy between ends and means, which in turn relies on the assumption that ends are morally significant whereas means (in themselves) are not.

This dichotomy, together with the assumption that underlies it, are unbiblical because the Bible speaks with complete authority and sufficient clarity on all the moral aspects of every decision we ever face. To deny this is to imply that God has left us in the dark about moral issues that matter to him. It is an attempt to ‘fence off’ some areas of human existence from the lordship of Christ, to claim that there are large slices of our lives where we can do what we like, where our Creator can safely be ignored.

The Bible knows no moral distinction between ends and means. A sinful action can never be justified on the grounds that it was a means to some other end, however laudable that end might be. The Bible just says, ‘Don’t sin’, and that’s the end of it.

In practice, this kind of pragmatism rejects Scripture as a guide to conduct, replacing it with whatever-we-think-works. In effect, it is a form of traditionalism, for it allows the word of God to be displaced by human conventions, human experience and human wisdom. And Jesus had some pretty uncompromising things to say about that.

Right to the edge - 2 April 2009

The superscription in Psalm 34 is unusually long, inviting us to ask why such detail should be necessary. Here’s what it says:

A Psalm of David, when he changed his behaviour before Abimelech, so that he drove him out, and he went away.

It relates to the incident in 1 Samuel 21:10-15, where David took refuge in Gath at the court of the Philistine King Achish (=Abimelech?), only to be discovered as the great Israelite warrior who had ’slain … his ten thousands’ (v. 11). Realising that the Philistines would probably not sit idly by while an internationally feared assassin sat a few yards from their King, David ‘was very much afraid’ (v. 12). So he feigned insanity, with the result that the King of Gath threw him out as a lunatic rather than (perhaps) executing him as a would-be murderer.

In other words, David came within a whisker of an untimely end, and (humanly speaking) only this spur-of-the-moment ruse saved his life.

So perhaps this detailed superscription is intended to draw attention to two things:

1. The extreme depths to which the LORD sometimes allows his people to sink before finally delivering them.

2. The apparently desperate and forlorn character of the schemes by which the LORD’s deliverance sometimes takes effect.

So don’t despair if it feels like the LORD has let you go right to the edge. The darkest hour is just before the dawn.

Excuses, excuses… - 20 March 2009

The human heart is rarely more inventive than when dreaming up reasons for ungodliness, and when it comes to loving our enemies, there’s generally plenty of material ready to hand. Figuring out a plausible justification for shoplifting or committing adultery can really tax our intellectual resources, but any fool can think of a thousand persuasive reasons for hating those who hate us. Loving our enemies feels unreasonable.

But let’s be clear: such love feels unreasonable only because we are irrational. Distorted by sin, we’re perfectly capable of justifying even the most perverse sins. Only the transforming grace of Christ can empower us to think straight and see sin for what it really is.

The perverse nature of man, corrupt with sin, and destitute of God’s word and grace, thinketh it against all reason that a man should love his enemy; and hath many persuasions which bring him to the contrary. Against all which reasons we ought as well to set the teaching as the living of our Saviour Christ, who loving us when we were his enemies, doth teach us to love our enemies. (The First Book of Homilies, pp. 64-65)

And if we consider that he which hath offended us deserveth not to be forgiven of us, let us consider again that we much less deserve to be forgiven of God. (The First Book of Homilies, p. 65)

Just what we do - 18 March 2009

Charity is not an optional extra for the super-keen benevolent types. It’s just what children of God do.

As St. John saith, ‘Hereby manifestly are known the children of God from the children of the devil; for whosoever doeth not love his brother belongeth not unto God’. (First Book of Homilies, p. 64, quoting 1 John 3:10)