Just the Server, not the Chef

4 February 2020

When talking about the Lord’s Table, the first observation to make is that the command is “Take and eat,” not “Take and explain.” A life of obedient Table observance is necessary; the explanation, while theologically important, is really just something to argue about over a cold beer—very secondary by comparison.

The second observation is that it can’t possibly be wrong to simply observe the Table as we’re taught in the New Testament. When I serve someone the bread, I tell them “This is the body of Christ, broken for you.” I say this because Jesus said this. I do not explain further, because Jesus didn’t. It can’t be wrong to just do what Jesus did. (Or what Paul laid down, following Christ’s example.) Now, it’s possible that various alterations and elaborations are also ok (and note that Paul doesn’t quite do exactly what Jesus did either). But it can’t be wrong to just stick very closely to the biblical examples we’re given. (And as a practical matter when you’re celebrating the Table with people from multiple churches, sticking very closely to the biblical text avoids a lot of sticky difficulties.)

The third observation is that it’s possible to waaaaay overdo the search for an explanation. Aquinas tried to explain the realities of the Table in Aristotelian terms, which sounds a bit precious to modern ears. The contemporary equivalent would be someone setting out to explain the Table through a clever application of quantum mechanics. (“See, in the first three dimensions, it’s bread, but in the 17th dimension, it’s the body…”) Um, no. Let’s not.

So a minister is well within his rights to say what the New Testament says, stop there, and decline to comment further. In sensitive company, that’s often exactly what I do.

But since we’re all friends here, let’s crack a cold one and chat a little. I’d say we’re pretty well stuck with some kind of real presence. The alternative to believing in Christ’s real presence at the Table is believing in His real absence, and that won’t do. A Corinthian abusing the Table can’t be guilty of the body and blood of the Lord if the body and blood of the Lord are not present.

Of course the bread and wine remain bread and wine, symbols of Christ’s body and blood, but let us not forget that there is a class of symbols that accomplish what they signify. When I gave my wife a ring, in the presence of witnesses, with the words, “With this ring I thee wed…” — the ring is a symbol, all right. But it is a symbol that accomplishes what it signifies.

Likewise, in a way that I flatly decline to speculate about, I maintain that the bread and wine are symbols of the presence of Christ that accomplish what they signify. In them, Christ is truly present, and through eating and drinking, He is present in you. You are the body of Christ, because you are what you eat. You want to know how that works in detail? Way above my pay grade, man. I’m just the server, not the chef.

I’d recommend John Williamson Nevin’s work for further reading on this.


Searching for Spiritual Reality

28 January 2020

Spiritual experience is like sexual experience; it matters who it’s with. There’s more than one being out there to interact with, and not every encounter that seems to start out safe, sane and consensual ends up as advertised. It’s far easier to find something real than it is to find something good.

It’s important to pay attention to the Scriptures, in which God tells us how to lean into good spiritual experience and avoid experiences that will hurt us. From earliest days, we’ve been ready to ignore what God said and seize anything that seems good for food, pleasant to the eyes, and desirable to make us wise. And there’s always some snake ready to say, “Go on–take it. It’ll be fine.”


A Branding Problem

28 January 2020

Alistair Roberts weighs in on the way the term “biblical” has been exploited as a brand. Well worth your time.

 


The Practice of Prayer

27 January 2020

I had the opportunity to speak this week at Faith Community Church in Littleton, CO, on “The Practice of Prayer.”

 


Little Books That Matter

21 January 2020

Here are four very small books about how we interact with the world in which we find ourselves. I recommend all four highly.

Metropolitan Manifesto by Rich Bledsoe

Christendom and the Nations by James Jordan

The Theopolitan Vision by Peter J. Leithart

Theopolitan Liturgy by Peter J. Leithart

 


Children of a Troubled Marriage

14 January 2020

An orphaned spirit can manifest in rebellion or in religion. It can be the prodigal who runs away or the older brother who stays with a sense of entitlement — either one of which boils down to “Look at me, Daddy!”

In reality, Father God has never looked away, never abandoned us, but it is no accident that we think he has. Mother Church told us Papa wouldn’t talk to us directly; she said he only spoke through her. (Convenient, right?) Because we were children, we believed her, and we lost confidence in our ability to hear God. Then, far too often, Mother Church withheld her love unless we conformed to rules designed for her comfort and convenience, rather than our growth. Within Mother Church, many of us found no breathing room.

Some of us grew up into everything she wanted. Some of us stayed around, but got progressively more angry and sullen. Some of us ran away from home. We were children. Perhaps we did the best we could with whatever we understood at the time. But we have to grow up sometime, and an adult is responsible to re-evaluate.

The truth is, Mother Church lied. She said you had to check all the boxes and do all the things or Papa would ignore you. But it was never actually about performance, and Father God loves you more than you can imagine. He never stopped speaking; you can hear His voice.

Yes, you. Yes, now.

What if you took a few minutes to just listen?


One Book or Two?

7 January 2020

In Matthew’s usage, “fulfill” has a fuller sense (if you’ll pardon the expression) than just the Micah 5:2//Matthew 2:5-6 predictive prophecy usage. For example, the Hosea 11//Matthew 2 usage is real fulfillment, but it’s not predictive prophecy. The Hosea passage is not a prediction of the future Messiah, but a reflection on Israel’s history: “When Israel was a child, I loved him, and out of Egypt I called My son.”

The original sense in Hosea is critical to Matthew’s meaning. Knowing that Israel is God’s son is necessary to understanding the points that Matthew is making: first, that Jesus is Israel (in a meaningful sense that Matthew will spend the whole book exploring), and second, that the land of Israel has become spiritual Egypt – a point that will be reinforced by John the Baptist when he calls the remnant out into the desert to pass through water.

We don’t want to read something into the text that isn’t there. At the same time, we don’t want to miss something that *is* there—and the NT shows us repeatedly that there’s a LOT more there than one might think at first glance. From Jesus Himself proving the resurrection by exegeting a verb tense in Genesis (Luke 20:37-38) to the fulfillments of the first few chapters of Matthew (1:22-23, 2:15, 17-18, 23) to the dizzying displays of Hebrews, the NT shows us a way of reading the OT that we wouldn’t have come up with on our own. It had to be revealed to us.

In conservative circles, we have gotten our hermeneutics from the Book of Nature (mostly as read by E. D. Hirsch), which is very useful as far as it goes. But God wrote two books–God’s Word and God’s world–and the Book of Scripture also has something to teach us about how to read well. We should not refuse to learn that set of lessons as well.


Epiphany: The Astrologers Find Jesus

6 January 2020

Contrary to the popular song, the Magi were not “three kings.” The Magi were diviners, astrologers, prophets, wise counselors — not kings, but king-makers, the power behind the throne of the Parthian Empire, Rome’s enemy to the east. So when their delegation arrived inside the Roman Empire, in the court of Herod, Rome’s puppet king in the province of Judea, it made a bit of a splash. The fact that they were looking for a new king only made it worse. 

How did they come to be looking for a king? “We saw his star,” they said. Five hundred years earlier, Daniel had become the chief of the Magi, not only recording his own dreams and visions of Israel’s promised Messiah, but also bringing the Hebrew Scriptures with him. A thousand years before that, those Scriptures reported, Balaam had prophesied that a star would rise out of Jacob. 

The Magi watched the heavens as a matter of course. And when the star appeared, they searched their books, learned what it meant, and came to meet the king. Took a little doing, but they found Him. 

Christians sometimes get a little possessive of Jesus, and start thinking that “outsiders” (however defined) can’t possibly know what we know about Him. How could the Magi find Jesus by watching the stars? Because He made them, and rightly understood, they point to Him.  

As does everything else. 


The Twelfth Day of Christmas: Weird Trust

5 January 2020

God often shows us what He’s going to do by giving us a word that initially makes no sense. 

The coming of Jesus is first foretold to Adam and Eve as the Seed of the woman, who will crush the serpent’s head. As the centuries pass, God slowly adds more detail to the picture. Balaam, a strange and greedy figure, foretold a royal star rising out of Jacob (Israel). Many other prophets also spoke of a coming king that would conquer and reign. Others saw a suffering servant who would die for his people. It was so hard to reconcile these themes that some of the rabbis suggested the prophets were speaking of two different messiahs, which they called the (royal) son of David and the (suffering) son of Jacob. During Jesus’ lifetime, His closest followers glommed onto the ‘royal conqueror’ theme, and totally neglected the ‘suffering servant’ theme. 

What they did not want to see was the truth that Jesus embraced: by obeying the path of suffering, He was also walking the path to reigning. It only became clear in the doing: Jesus has transformed the world; He dethroned the divine kings, confounded the philosophers with the good of Creation, and sidelined the religious elite so that you and I can know God directly. And He’s not done yet.

He lived a life of service, and in His death gathered every sin, every character flaw and weakness and sickness of the world into Himself. They died on the cross that day, and were buried in the heart of the earth, and when He rose to new life, He brought none of that out of the grave. Whatever holds you back from the purposes God built into you, you could let it go today and be free for the rest of your life — because Jesus has already settled accounts with your limitations. 

So what are you called to? What have you been told you could do, what has God shown you, but you haven’t pursued it because it just makes no sense? What might happen if you just obey by doing what you can do now?


The Eleventh Day of Christmas: It Doesn’t Have to Look Like You Think

4 January 2020

We have a bad habit of refusing to accept what God does because it doesn’t look like we expected it to. 

It was not just the divine kings and the philosophers who were scandalized by the coming of Jesus. In the prologue to his gospel, the Apostle John remembers, “He came to His own, and His own did not receive Him.” The very idea of a divine human being was a scandal to the religious establishment…a scandal that had been vexing them in their own Scriptures going back 500 years before Christ. 

During that time, the entire nation was enslaved and deported to captivity in Babylon, an experience that God told them (correctly) would cure them of idolatry forever. The prophet Daniel was an advisor to the Babylonian kings, and one day Daniel saw a vision that was nothing but trouble. He saw “one like the Son of Man” — a human, in other words — riding on the clouds. Now, this is already a problem, because in Daniel’s world, only God rides on the clouds. A human being can’t do that. But it got worse. The Son of Man rode on the clouds to the Ancient of Days (God, again), and received a kingdom from Him. For a good Jewish boy whose nation has just given up worshipping idols, this is one too many gods — and one of them is a human. The whole thing is no good. Daniel 7 says he was grieved in his spirit. In the dream, he gets an explanation for part of what he sees, but this part of the vision is not explained, and even after he’s given an interpretation, he says that his thoughts greatly troubled him, and he kept the matter to himself.

The riddle posed by that vision had been troubling interpreters ever since Daniel wrote it down. And the religious powers that be had a very hard time accepting that a child born to a construction worker could be the answer to the riddle. 

What is God doing in your life that doesn’t look like you expected?