Unhidden

Every now and then I wish that the Protestant church had not abandoned the sacrament of confession. While I understand that that was a byproduct of acknowledging the priesthood of all believers, I think that for many Christians today it has become the “priesthood of no believers” or perhaps the “priesthood of me.” No, we don’t require a priest to serve as an intermediary between us and God, but there is something sacred that happens in fellowship when one believer is able to remind another based on Scripture, “God has forgiven you and He loves you.” Those words draw us closer to one another and to God as we look toward the cross of Jesus Christ.

Certainly there were abuses in the Catholic Church in the use of the confessional, penance, and the selling of indulgences. And there were those like Martin Luther who felt so burdened by his own sinfulness that he spent excessive amounts of time trying to remember and confess every sin that might possibly separate him from God. He hadn’t yet learned the freedom of grace and mercy in Christ. Those abuses and errors required correction and the Reformation was greatly needed. Unfortunately, I think many modern Christians may have taken things too far. There are many who see no need for the local church at all. They believe they can live out their faith without any input from anyone else. They refuse to accept that gathering together is a spiritual discipline that is necessary not only for their own growth in sanctification, but also for the growth of others. We are all weakened when some try to go it alone.

Specifically as it relates to confession, participating in close fellowship with others provides opportunity for accountability, encouragement, and reminders of the truth of God’s Word. I know there have been times when I’ve needed someone keeping me accountable for my actions, not so that they could enforce penance but so that I remember that there is someone who cares whether I stand or fall. (There is such a thing as beneficial shame that provides an extra incentive to endure.) There have also been times when I’ve needed such a person but I’ve opted not to find someone, and that is always a recipe for failure sooner or later.

Accountability to another person also serves as a reminder of the seriousness of sin. Without accountability, we can easily dismiss or rationalize our pet sins. With accountability, we see more of the eternal and relational consequences of sin, but also the abundance of grace that comes through Jesus’s death on the cross.

James wrote, “Therefore, confess your sins to one another and pray for one another, that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous person has great power as it is working” (5:16 ESV). Yet that seems to be the last thing many of us would choose to do. Confessing to one another is a way of agreeing with God that sin matters, grace abounds, God’s love endures, and we matter to Him and to one another.

Charles E. Moore wrote in Called to Community: The Life Jesus Wants for His People:

“Confession means far more than unloading one’s problems on someone else or striving for personal betterment. We bare our souls before our brothers and sisters for the sake of building up the body of Christ. Only by sharing life to this degree can we show the world that Jesus really does have the power to forgive sins, set burdened people free, and restore broken relationships.”

Paul David Tripp wrote:

“Confession shouldn’t be this scary thing we do our best to avoid. Sin, weakness, and failure shouldn’t be the constant elephant in the room that we all know is there but can’t (or won’t) talk about… It should be liberating, not understood as a moment of personal and relational loss. Our confession should be propelled by deep appreciation and gratitude toward God, who has made it possible for us to no longer fear being exposed.”

Olan Stubbs put it this way:

“Sometimes being honest with another person eye to eye about our sin forces us to be more honest with ourselves about our sin and ultimately more honest with the Lord… Whether it’s a small group, or an accountability group, or some other arrangement, we all need the help of other Christians in the church to assess, call out, and rebuke our sins, and to encourage us in holy living. Take advantage of the great gift God has given in providing not only forgiveness (Romans 8:1) and sin-killing power (Romans 8:4) by faith, but also other believers (Romans 12:5–8) to whom we can confess our sins and have them speak truth and grace back to us.”

I challenge all of us, myself included, to consider how we can better facilitate true community through the vulnerability of confession.

“Whoever conceals his transgressions will not prosper, but he who confesses and forsakes them will obtain mercy” (Proverbs 28:13).

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On a related note, Sam Storms had a couple recent blog posts that are worth reading on the importance of church membership:

http://www.samstorms.com/enjoying-god-blog/post/10-things-you-should-know-about-church-membership

http://www.samstorms.com/enjoying-god-blog/post/why-do-people-object-to-the-concept-of-membership-in-a-local-church

© 2018 Dawn Rutan. Unless otherwise indicated all images are copyright free from pixabay.com.

It Is Written

The following is some theological speculation that I’ve been mulling over in recent months. I don’t claim to have a corner on truth, but this just helps me to make sense of some parts of Scripture…

I’ve come to think of this life as being a book in God’s hand. I’m sure the metaphor breaks down at some points as all metaphors do. Psalm 139:16 (ESV) says, “Your eyes saw my unformed substance; in Your book were written, every one of them, the days that were formed for me, when as yet there was none of them.” If all our days were already written, then the book is completed and the end is sure. This should be a reason for peace and trust in the Author. Should we still pray? Yes, because that is method God has ordained for us to interact with Him. As many have said, prayer doesn’t change God, it changes us. Prayer affirms our faith and shapes our understanding of God’s greater plans.

Jesus is referred to as the “Word made flesh” (John 1:14) and the “Author of life” (Acts 3:15). The Author chose to enter His own story for the good of His people. He provided the necessary solution to the problem of sin. Only the Author could resurrect His own character.

Time, from Creation to the Second Coming, is contained within the book. God is outside of time. “Do not overlook this one fact, that with the Lord one day is as a thousand years, and a thousand years as one day” (2 Pet. 3:8). We see time as a fixed construct, passing by second by second, but God sees all of time in His hand.

The choices we will make are already known to God, but not to us as the characters in the book. Because we are created by God with certain characteristics, we fulfill the plot that God has already written. (Perhaps our free will is not so free as we may think.) Some characters are written with evil intentions. “As for you, you meant evil against me, but God meant it for good, to bring it about that many people should be kept alive, as they are today” (Genesis 50:20). “For the Scripture says to Pharaoh, ‘For this very purpose I have raised you up, that I might show My power in you, and that My name might be proclaimed in all the earth’” (Romans 9:17). But as Paul points out in Romans 9, such people are still responsible for their actions and will be judged accordingly.

The image of a completed book also helps clarify some of the conflicting views on death. If a character dies in a realistic novel, you don’t expect them to reappear in a later chapter as either a ghost or a real person. (I won’t get into other types of fiction.) Let’s say the character dies and comes out of the book into the hand of the Author. If the book contains time and God is outside of time, where or when is that character from the perspective of those still in the book? His body in the book is dead. He may or may not be conscious of being in God’s presence, depending on how you understand Scripture. (N.T. Wright interprets Revelation 6:9 to say that the dead are awaiting the resurrection under the altar of God, which presents some interesting images.) But think about this, if the character is consciously with God, do you think he’s going to be asking to get back into the book to see how the rest of someone’s story was written or to try to change it? Perhaps this explains how Moses and Elijah appeared to Jesus at the Transfiguration (Matt. 17:3). They were written back in for a few paragraphs.

At the conclusion of the book, all the characters will be brought outside its pages to face the final Judgment. And my interpretation of 1 Corinthians 15 is that immortality will be granted to those who have put their faith in Christ while the rest will cease to exist, as characters whose roles in the book have ended and as pages burnt to ashes in the fire. I imagine the book has enough pages to keep a fire going for quite some time. The fire may be eternal even when the book is gone. And maybe the marriage supper of the Lamb is a cookout, since Jesus seemed to like fires on the beach (John 21:9).

When we move into eternal life in the new heavens and new earth (2 Peter 3:12-13), it will be as if we’re moving from a two-dimensional world into a three-dimensional one, out of the book and into reality. What we’ve experienced here is but a shadow of what is to come (Col. 2:17, Heb. 10:1), and just a dim reflection in the mirror compared to what we will one day see (1 Cor. 13:12). That makes me even more anxious to see that new world. But until that day, we might as well enjoy the story as it continues to be revealed to us.

“I have come home at last! This is my real country! I belong here. This is the land I have been looking for all my life, though I never knew it till now… Come further up, come further in!” –C.S. Lewis, The Last Battle

© 2018 Dawn Rutan. Unless otherwise indicated all images are copyright free from pixabay.com.

Among Friends

I read the following quote from Dietrich Bonhoeffer (originally from Life Together) in a compilation of writings titled Called to Community: The Life Jesus Wants for His People.

“If we do not give thanks daily for the Christian fellowship in which we have been placed, even where there is no great experience, no discoverable riches, but much weakness, small faith, and difficulty; if on the contrary, we only keep complaining to God that everything is to paltry and petty, so far from what we expected, then we hinder God from letting our fellowship grow according to the measure and riches which are there for us all in Jesus Christ… The more thankfully we daily receive what is given to us, the more surely and steadily will fellowship increase and grow from day to day as God pleases.”

Moments after reading that, I read another part of the same Bonhoeffer quote in Messy Beautiful Friendship, by Christine Hoover (a book I would recommend):

“The man who fashions a visionary ideal of community demands that it be realized by God, by others, and by himself. He enters the community of Christians with his demands, sets up his own law, and judges the brethren and God Himself accordingly… When things do not go his way, he calls the effort a failure… So he becomes, first an accuser of his brethren, then an accuser of God, and finally the despairing accuser of himself.”

I find that to be both convicting and frustrating. As Hoover spells out in her book, we all make assumptions about friendship and fellowship, and more often than not our assumptions are based on what we want and need for ourselves. Some of our assumptions may be biblical, but many are not. I sometimes find myself thinking things like:

• If people were really committed to our church, so many would show up for Bible study that we’d have groups meeting every night of the week.
• If we were pursuing real fellowship, we wouldn’t have so many people who feel alone and isolated.
• If people really cared about one another, it wouldn’t be so hard to get real conversations going.

I wrestle with finding a balance somewhere between selfishly expecting too much from people and apathetically expecting nothing from anyone. As I read the scriptural “one another” admonitions, I still believe that the modern church ought to raise the bar for what we expect in relationships—love one another, outdo one another in showing honor, live in harmony with one another, welcome one another, instruct one another, comfort one another, serve one another, bear one another’s burdens, be kind to one another, encourage one another, exhort one another, confess your sins to one another, pray for one another, show hospitality to one another, abound in love for one another… 

But at the same time, I realize that my needs and desires may differ from others in both type and intensity because we have different types of responsibilities, homes, and interests. And if we are building relationships based on our commonalities, rather than our differences, it will likely take more intense effort in more condensed periods of time. Tim Keller said, “In a busy culture like ours, all our other loves will push themselves upon us. Friendship takes incredibly deliberate time.”

It is not always easy to be thankful for what we do have rather than bemoan what we don’t. We also need to consider whether we are expecting from people what only God can give. I completely agree with Hoover that:

“In our wish-dreams, we tend to make people our gods. We look to them—at least I have—to know us intimately at all times, to meet our every need, to be there when we want them near, and to love us unconditionally and perfectly, when the map points only to God as having these abilities” (37-38).

I think we probably all have some learning and growing to do in our relationships with one another in the Body of Christ.

“Gracious Lord Jesus, I need to know You as my friend. It is not for some specific blessing I ask, but for the greatest of all blessings, the one from which all others flow. I dare to ask You for a renewal of the wonderful friendship that makes the conversation called prayer a natural give-and-take divine dialogue… Open my mind so I may see myself and my relationships from Your perspective” (Lloyd John Ogilvie, Praying Through the Tough Times, 222).

© 2018 Dawn Rutan. Unless otherwise indicated all images are copyright free from pixabay.com.

Meditation on Romans 8

Romans 8 has long been one of my favorite sections of the Bible. The following are some thoughts I’ve had this week.

1-4- “There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.”

God does not condemn me because my life is hidden with Christ in God (Col. 3:3). He does not look on my sin but on Christ’s perfection. I have been set free from the condemnation of my sin, along with its power to trip me up. I don’t have to fulfill the law perfectly because Jesus already did. Condemnation from other people or from myself is out of place and has no ultimate weight.

5-11- “You, however, are not in the flesh but in the Spirit, if in fact the Spirit of God dwells in you.”

I confess I often do set my mind on the things of the flesh, but because I have the Holy Spirit, I am not obligated to the flesh. I have a choice where I will set my mind. When I do set my mind on the flesh, the result is fleshly—discontentment, discouragement, lust, pride, envy, etc. But when I set my mind on the things of God, the result is spiritually fruitful—love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, faithfulness, and self-control (Gal. 5:22-23).

12-13- “But if by the Spirit you put to death the deeds of the body, you will live.”

The flesh cannot and will not put itself to death. Fighting the desires of the flesh by my own strength will always fail. Only by the transforming power of the Spirit can those fleshly deeds and desires be killed.

14-17- “The Spirit Himself bears witness with our spirit that we are children of God.”

I have been adopted into God’s family, and I have all the rights of the Son of God Himself. I need not fear my heavenly Father, but I can come to Him as a child with my needs, my desires, my weakness, and my failures.

18-21- “For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the sons of God.”

This world is really messed up by sin. My sin, the sins of others against me, broken bodies and minds, death, destruction—one day it will all be cleaned up and made new. Till then I must wait and endure.

22-25- “But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience.”

I often get discouraged and impatient with my progress in sanctification. [Would I dare turn that sentence the right way around and say that I am discouraged with God’s progress in my sanctification?!] I keep thinking that I should be farther along, that I shouldn’t have these same struggles, that God expects better of me. When those same old temptations come along, pride tells me to try to rely on myself, while shame tells me I am already a failure just for being tempted. I groan with the seeming futility of this life, but I eagerly long for the day when all temptation, sin, and brokenness will be a thing of the past.

26-27- “The Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God.”

Without the intercession of the Spirit and the Son, I don’t know where I would be. I am certain that God has spared me from some moments of temptation that would otherwise have made me fall into sin. He has made a way of escape for me through Jesus Christ (1 Cor. 10:13).

28-30- “For those whom He foreknew He also predestined to be conformed to the image of His Son.”

God’s will is my sanctification, but He has ordained that it will not be completed until the last day (Phil. 1:6). I will one day fully reflect the image of Christ, but until that day I will groan with the weight of this world.

31-34- “He who did not spare His own Son but gave Him up for us all, how will He not also with Him graciously give us all things?”

God has already given me all I really need—salvation, forgiveness, the righteousness of Christ, adoption, a secure future, the promise of perfection one day, etc. If I feel I’m lacking something, I’m either mistaken or I’m being impatient about waiting.

35-37- “In all these things we are more than conquerors through Him who loved us.”

I often don’t feel like a conqueror. I feel weak and susceptible. But Christ has won the victory over the world, the flesh, and the devil. Even if I lose a battle, the war is not lost—it’s not time to give up, but to recoup to fight another day. The Commander sees what I cannot see—that the end of all battles is very near, and the verdict has already been determined.

38-39- “[Nothing] will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

And for that I give thanks.

© 2018 Dawn Rutan. Unless otherwise indicated all images are copyright free from pixabay.com.

What Do You See?

After Jesus was arrested, Peter followed along behind. Luke records the following:

“Then a servant girl, seeing him as he sat in the light and looking closely at him, said, ‘This man also was with Him.’ … And a little later someone else saw him and said, ‘You also are one of them.’ … And after an interval of about an hour still another insisted, saying, ‘Certainly this man also was with Him, for he too is a Galilean” (Luke 22:56, 58, 59 ESV).

Although Scripture doesn’t specify, Luke gives the impression that at least the first girl recognized Peter from having seen him with Jesus. Matthew’s account says that one of the three people commented on Peter’s accent. His Galilean heritage was evident in some way.

Similar events occur in the book of Acts. “Now when they saw the boldness of Peter and John, and perceived that they were uneducated, common men, they were astonished. And they recognized that they had been with Jesus” (4:13). This time Peter didn’t deny it even though it brought danger to him. “Whether it is right in the sight of God to listen to you rather than to God, you must judge, for we cannot but speak of what we have seen and heard” (4:19-20). The appearance of the resurrected Christ and the coming of the Holy Spirit gave Peter an assurance and confidence that he didn’t have before.

Another passage in Acts is worth mentioning. Paul encountered a crippled man at Lystra. “And Paul, looking intently at him and seeing that he had faith to be made well, said in a loud voice, ‘Stand upright on your feet.’ And he sprang up and began walking” (14:9-10). Something about the man’s appearance revealed his faith. Was it a twinkle in his eye? A look of desperation? Was he trying to get up even before he was healed?

All that makes me wonder—what do people see when they look at you or me? Do they recognize that we have been with Jesus? Do they see that we have faith? Do they hear it in our “accent” and the words we use? Do they know that it is because of Christ that we live and act the way we do? Conversely, do our words and deeds show that our loyalties are no different from the rest of the world? Do we blend into the crowd so well that no one would suspect us of being Christians?

When we interact with other people, do we look for signs of faith in them? It seems to me that evangelism has to start there. It’s easy to go through life not even seeing the people around us—the cashier, the waitress, the mechanic—they just become blurred faces on the way to somewhere else. I know I’m often guilty of this. I suspect that if we took the time and effort to really see people, we’d see a lot more evidence of faith than we might think, whether it is someone who is searching for the truth or someone who is growing in their faith. That can then become the starting point for a deeper conversation and opportunity for connection.

My challenge for all of us is to take a look at our own lives to see what’s showing, but also to look at those around us and really see them.

“But in your hearts honor Christ the Lord as holy, always being prepared to make a defense to anyone who asks you for a reason for the hope that is in you; yet do it with gentleness and respect” (1 Peter 3:15).

© 2018 Dawn Rutan. Unless otherwise indicated all images are copyright free from pixabay.com.

Here I Stand

When I was younger, I did not enjoy reading history or biographies, but these days I find myself turning to biographies quite frequently. Somehow fiction just doesn’t compare with real life. I just finished the 2017 biography of Martin Luther by Eric Metaxas, and I would highly recommend it. I learned a lot that I hadn’t read before or had long since forgotten. (Dr. Rosell may decide to revoke my grades in his church history classes at GCTS.)

I knew that Scripture knowledge was lacking among the laity because they didn’t have the Bible in their own language, but I didn’t realize that the clergy weren’t much better. Metaxas writes:

“It was a plain fact that no one was really entrusted with reading the Bible itself, so that monks and even priests and theologians were typically kept at one or more removes from it... In contrast with his frenetic and passionate Bible reading, Luther said that the other monks did not read their Bibles very much or at all... Strangely enough, once a novice actualy became a monk, he was no longer allowed to keep his Bible. At that point, he must limit himself to only reading scholarly books” (52-53).

In his many debates, Luther’s opponents seemed to be more concerned with upholding the authority of the Pope than with seriously considering what Scripture had to say about an issue.

“Duke George himself had a private conversation with Luther... he easily solved the thorny theological question of papal authority by gruffly declaring, ‘Whether by divine or by human right, the pope is still the pope!’” (171).

“For many in attendance [at Leipzig, Johannes] Eck’s quoting [Matthew 16:18-19] to prove his point was as though he had shouted ‘QED,’ and raised his hands in triumph. Eck then said that to deny this most basic of doctrines was to side with the Bohemian heretic Jan Hus, who a century earlier was condemned at the Council of Constance and burned at the stake” (174).

In addition, I hadn’t realized the extent of papal power over secular authorities. There is a reason it was called the Holy Roman Empire. Luther wrote:

“In name the empire belong to us, but in reality to the pope... We Germans are given a clear German lesson. Just as we thought we had achieved independence, we became the slaves of the craziest of tyrants; we have the name, title, and coat of arms of the empire, but the pope has the wealth, power, the courts, and the laws. Thus the pope devours the fruit and we play with the peels” (186).

In the modern Western world, it’s hard to imagine the a world without national and personal independence. We value our freedom of religion and freedom of expression, but this a bit of a historical anomaly. Most nations and most time periods have simply not had the freedoms we enjoy.

“Many historians have put Luther forward as the first to put ‘individual conscience’ before the authority of the church and empire. But ironically, he was not at all asserting the freedom of the individual to do as he pleased. He was asserting the freedom of the individual to do as God pleased—if and when the church or state attempted to abrogate that freedom. Luther was asserting the modern idea of freedom of religion and freedom of conscience for the first time in history... Luther called upon every Christian to cease the petty obedience to church that was nothing when compared to the freedom and joy of actually obeying God” (221).

Martin Luther wasn’t perfect and he got some things wrong, but I have to admire someone who took a stand for what he believed Scripture taught even though it got him condemned as a heretic by the official church and put him at risk of being burned at the stake. Many today would rather be popular than theologically correct. We can easily choose to let people hold onto lies that will bring eternal condemnation rather than risk our reputation before men.

We have benefitted from Luther’s work: we have the Scriptures in our own language; we have a multitude of churches to choose from; we can join in musical worship of many different styles; we have the right to disagree with theologians, and many other freedoms. So what will we do now?

“But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for His own possession, that you may proclaim the excellencies of Him who called you out of darkness into His marvelous light” (1 Peter 2:9 ESV).

© 2018 Dawn Rutan. Unless otherwise indicated all images are copyright free from pixabay.com.

Less Than

Lately God seems to be focusing my attention on the theme of humility. I wrote some about this back in November, but it has returned to center stage. Recently I read in Dennis Jernigan’s book Daily Devotions for Kingdom Seekers: “Humility keeps us supple and pliable in the hands of the Master Potter.” Not too long after that I started reading Andrew Murray’s book Humility. He wrote:

“Let him consider how all lack of love; all disregard for the needs, feelings, and weakness of others; all sharp and hasty judgments and words, so often excused under the plea of being outright and honest; all manifestations of temper, touchiness, and irritation; all feelings of bitterness and estrangement, have their root in nothing but pride, that only seeks itself.”

That really puts a point on things. Really thinking about the reasons behind our experiences of judgment, irritation, and frustration can reveal the painful truth of indwelling pride. We all tend to think our own time, work, abilities, and beliefs are more important or better than those of other people.

Murray goes on to say:

“…self has nothing good in it, except as an empty vessel which God must fill. Its claim to be or do anything may not for a moment be allowed. It is in this, above and before everything, in which the conformity to Jesus exists, the being and doing nothing of ourselves, that God may be all.”

We must be emptied of self in order to be filled with Christ.

“The root of all goodness and grace, of all faith and acceptable worship, is that we know we have nothing but what we receive, and bow in deepest humility to wait upon God for it.”

All good gifts that we have come from God. Why then do we boast (even if it is just inwardly) about what we have received (1 Cor. 4:7)?

“If humility is the root of the tree [as seen in Jesus], its nature must be seen in every branch, leaf, and fruit.”

We are to be abiding in Christ, and He embodied humility (Phil. 2:5-8), so we too should exemplify humility if we are being conformed to His image (Rom. 8:29).

“If we learn that to be nothing before God is the glory of the creature, we will welcome with our whole heart the discipline we may have in serving even those who annoy or irritate us... No place will be too low, no stooping too deep, and no service too miserable or lengthy, if we simply have the opportunity to share and experience the fellowship with Him who spoke, ‘I am among you as he that serves’ (Luke 22:27).”

Perhaps I’m the only one, but I know that pride is something that trips me up frequently. Yet humility doesn’t come from working harder to be humble. It comes only from focusing less on myself and more on my Savior. The more I seek Him and endeavor to obey what He calls me to do, the less I will be concerned about what anyone else may say or do or think about me.

“For by the grace given to me I say to everyone among you not to think of himself more highly than he ought to think, but to think with sober judgment, each according to the measure of faith that God has assigned” (Romans 12:3 ESV).

© 2018 Dawn Rutan. Unless otherwise indicated all images are copyright free from pixabay.com.