Between Appearances

Last week I preached on Titus 2:11-15, which, as I wrote yesterday, is such an incredible passage you could preach it 8 different ways and still not exhaust its richness and depth. I wanted to spend some more time with some themes I touched on briefly, and perhaps put them a better, more understandable way.

According to the text, we live between two appearances: the past appearance of the grace of God, and the future appearance of the glory of God. Meaning, God has broken into our world in a significant way through the Incarnation of Christ, and his subsequent death and resurrection. This is the appearance of the grace of God. But God will also break into our world, again, in an equally significant, if not more magnificent, way when Jesus returns to judge the world and take his place as its rightful king. This is the appearance of the glory of God.

We live between these appearances, but that doesn't mean that we're just sitting around reminiscing about the past and waiting for the future. The middle isn't empty--it's full! Now is the only time and here is the only place we've been given to work out the past (the appearance of the grace of God) in the hope of the future (the appearance of the glory of God). It's in the middle that we are transformed by the power of the Gospel, of Christ working in us through the power and presence of the Holy Spirit.

So what do we do? We prepare for the return of the king by ruling and reigning in his name and according to his purposes. This means that we take the Gospel to the ends of the earth, not merely to bring salvation to all people, but also to extend the rule and reign of Jesus the King to every heart and home on earth. We're not simply in the heaven-assurance business, we're also heralds of a new kingdom--a kingdom that is crashing against the kingdoms of the world. We are the ambassadors of this kingdom, endowed with authority by the king, and commissioned with a message of good news for all mankind.

As ambassadors of the king, then, we must see to it that his rule and reign is extended to every corner of our own hearts and minds, and that it is evident in every aspect of our lives. Not only are we heralds and ambassadors, we are also citizens of this new kingdom, and our lives must reflect this new citizenship. So, in all things, we surrender to the King who surrendered the benefits of divinity to become like us in every way, dying for our sins, and rising again in power.

He is coming again, so don't just wait around. The time between appearances is full of opportunity and challenge and adventure. I challenge you to orient your mind and heart between these appearances, and live accordingly, in the power of the Holy Spirit who is within you through faith in Christ.

God's Will For You

My devotional reading brought me to 1 Thessalonians 5 today. Here is what struck me:

Rejoice always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus.

Is this even possible? Aren't there times when rejoicing or giving thanks would be inappropriate, like in the wake of a natural disaster? Is it reasonable to command people to be in constant prayer? What would that even look like?

I don't know if any of these are possible, but I think there's a deeper principle at work here, and it's this: Your character can exceed your circumstances. Don't let the circumstances of your life bring you down to the pit, or shut your mouth from prayer, or make you embittered and ungrateful. No matter what comes your way, the way you respond is entirely up to you. Rejoicing, prayer, and thankfulness are always a conscious choice. You don't just fall into those responses by accident; you do them on purpose.

It is God's will for you that your character be determined by the power of Christ in you rather than on your instinctive reactions to the various circumstances of your life. You might say that your natural response to your circumstances is what is true, and to force yourself to respond another way is hypocritical. Not so. If you follow Jesus, what is truest about you is Christ in you. Jesus Christ is what is most true of you. Not your sin. Not your past. Not your temper. Not your attitude. Not your instinctive reactions to your circumstances. Through faith in Christ, you are no longer a "natural" person, but a "becoming-supernatural" person by the power and presence of the Holy Spirit. The old is gone, crucified with Jesus, and the new is here, resurrected with Jesus. You are new, through faith in Christ.

You have power, in the Spirit, to rise above your "natural" reactions and instincts. I'm not saying it's easy. I'm not saying you can change overnight. But you can learn to walk in the Spirit--and to rejoice always, to pray continually, and to give thanks no matter what--the same way you learned to walk as a toddler. By falling down a lot, and getting back up.

I'm a pastor, and I'm still learning to walk. It's hard. Sometimes I wake up on the wrong side of the bed, which really just means I'm choosing to be a frustrated, mean-spirited, downcast jerk like I am today. I don't always remember these things, but that doesn't make them any less true. My character can exceed my circumstances, but only as I lean into the power of Christ within me through the presence of the Holy Spirit. The same goes for you. And be encouraged, because you'll learn to walk someday.

Your New Clothes

A couple of days ago I blogged about Paul's prayer in Colossians 1 that was, for me, quite timely. Yesterday my devotional reading took me to Colossians 2, which is amazing, but about which I didn't have time to blog because I was doing home school with my son and passing out door hangers for our Trunk or Treat this Sunday. (By the way, if you live in central Ohio, you should definitely come to our Trunk or Treat. There will be candy, and the candy will be free. Do you need another reason?)

So today I came to Colossians 3, which is also thoroughly amazing. (You know what, maybe you should go read the whole book of Colossians. It's really great.) Here is a portion of what struck me today:

Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you. And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity.

What are you wearing today? I'm wearing my favorite Ohio State zip-up; but am I wearing compassion? Are you wearing kindness and humility in such a way that people notice the quality of your character the same way they notice the clothes on your body? When they see you coming, do they see a red shirt and blue jeans, or do they see a person who is gentle and patient?

I'm not trying to guilt you; I'm trying to change your perspective about the person you could possibly be. You really could be a person whose compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience (all held together by agape love) is as evident to others as the clothes you wear. You really can possess these qualities of character because this is exactly what God is trying to do in your heart. He is remaking you--reclothing you. Through the power and presence of the Holy Spirit, and by faith in Jesus Christ, God is slowly but surely remaking your character so that you possess these qualities.

Your responsibility is to put on the clothes. Sure, it may not feel natural at first. Yes, you may feel like a hypocrite in the beginning. But the only way to live into this new character God is forming in you is to actually try it. You've got to give it some effort. (Remember, you're saved by grace, but you're changed by active cooperation with God.) Because compassion et. al. don't come naturally to us, we have to choose to live that way. So put on your new clothes; they look much better on you than what you were wearing before.

Scars that Prove

Somewhere along the way we got this idea that God is really interested in giving us a good, easy life. That he wants us to be happy. That he wants us to deal with the least amount of pain possible. That suffering has no part in his will for our lives.

Maybe those things are true, but the reality of the world that I live in, and the reality of the person that I am, is that there are parts of my deep heart that are violently opposed to God. There are yet-unredeemed parts of my being that rage against God when things don't go the way I expect they should go, or when I don't get what I want, or when I perceive that God has not delivered on a promise that I tried to manipulate him into making to me. Sin is simply a part of who I am, and it will take God at least the rest of my natural life to transform me into the image of his Son.

Transformation is painful. It's one thing to give up some sin that you don't really care about, it's another thing altogether to repent of the ways in which your very personality, and way of thinking, has been corrupted by the sins you commit and the sins committed against you. That's the transformation that leaves a mark on your character.

God is good. And I've got the scars to prove it.

This is a sort of paraphrase of the things that Paul wrote about his own life with God to the many churches that received letters from him. God hit Paul where it hurt him most time and again. He even once said to a man about Paul, "I will show him how much he must suffer for my name." He's done that with many of the great saints of church history.

God wounds us because only by being wounded can we move through healing toward godliness.

Suffering is the definitive mark of a disciple of Jesus. After all, we follow the one who was crucified on our behalf. And like what Jesus suffered on the cross, the suffering we endure will one day be redeemed by our Heavenly Father.

I believe that God is currently trying to root out all the sinful desires, all the idolatry, and all the wickedness from your heart. That's what he's doing to me. And it hurts. But he's doing it in order to make us like his Son. He's doing it because he's good; I've got the scars to prove it. And if you stick with God long enough, if you stick with him through the crap of your life and engage with what he's doing in the midst of it, you too will be marked with the scars that prove the goodness of God.

God of the Small Things

Last night, at life group, we talked about the fifth chapter of Dick Staub's book The Culturally-Savvy Christian. I blogged through this book at the end of last year, as it very profoundly impacted me--especially this chapter, which is called "God's Transforming Presence".

In my blog entry on that chapter, I wrote:

The first thing that was ever true of you is that you were created in God’s image. Your being created in the image of God predates, and runs deeper, than your sin. This is why God is committed to your restoration, not your destruction. He wants to make you again what he made you before; and we know what that looks like because he sent his son into the world to show us not simply himself, but also ourselves.

Jesus is the only human to ever perfectly bear the image of God. In him, we see who we were always meant to be. The Bible says, in Romans, "For those God foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the image of his Son, that he might be the firstborn among many brothers and sisters." Don't get distracted by the words "foreknew" and "predestined" (as a good Arminian, I'm trying not to). The point is that God's purpose for you is to be conformed to the image of Jesus. That is, God is at work in you, transforming you into the image of the one who perfectly bore the image of God.

All the crap in your life, all the stupid decisions you make and all the ridiculous things you say and do happen because you let something less true of you define you. You are not defined by your sin; you are defined by the God in whose image you are made and who is committed to restoring that image in you, transforming you to become who he originally intended you to be.

God is with you, if you place your eternal hope in Jesus Christ. God wants to transform you, and he invites you to participate in your own transformation. I believe that this happens, not in the big areas of life, but in the small ones.

• You come home from work and turn on the TV. But maybe, instead, you stop and ask God what you should do, and he tells you to talk to your spouse, or open your Bible, or play with your kids. And you do that.
• Somebody cuts you off on the road and you curse them out and give them the one-fingered salute. But maybe, instead, you assume the best--that they genuinely didn't see you. Maybe you pray for them.
• You're working on a project that you can't fix. There's one thing that you just can't figure out, so you throw it against the wall and curse until the air is blue. But maybe, instead, you take a deep breath and ask God to give you patience and wisdom.

This list could be infinitely long. But it's in these small areas where our character is most clearly demonstrated and where we are most lastingly transformed. This is where we learn patience, selflessness, humility, and how to love well. If we can't beat the small things, we'll never accomplish the big things. Where do you need to experience God's transforming presence today? He's there, with you, waiting on you to stop fighting against him and give him enough space to work a true miracle.

Hope in Babylon

I recently finished Eugene Peterson's wonderful book, Run with the Horses. I started reading it several months ago and got sidetracked, as often happens in the busy seasons of life. I'll post a full review of the book tomorrow, but today I'd like to share some thoughts from the book that are relevant to what I posted on Monday, Born for Babylon.

Chapter 12 deals with Jeremiah 29, in which the prophet delivers a message to his fellow Hebrews who have been taken into exile in Babylon. His message is this: "Get used to life there. Settle down. Get married. Plant a garden. Pray for Babylon, because you're going to be there for 70 years." Not exactly what you want to hear if you're the displaced Israelites. Peterson describes exile this way:

The essential meaning of exile is that we are where we don't want to be. We are separated from home. We are not permitted to reside in the place where we comprehend and appreciate our surroundings. We are forced to be away from that which is most congenial to us.

Exile is where life doesn't make sense. The familiar rhythms have been drowned in the thunderclaps of that which is foreign.

Jeremiah taught the Israelites to embrace the foreign and unfamiliar. There were other prophets, however, who were preaching a message of false hope. They said the horror would be over in less than 2 years. A far cry from the 70 predicted by Jeremiah.

These three [false] prophets made a good living fomenting discontent and merchandising nostalgia. But their messages and dreams, besides being false, were destructive. False dreams interfere with honest living. As long as the people thought that they might be going home at any time, it made no sense to engage in committed, faithful work in Babylon. If there was a good chance that they would soon get back all they had lost, there was no need to develop a life of richness, texture and depth where they were. ...The people, glad for a religious reason to be lazy, lived hand to mouth, parasites on society, irresponsible in their relationships, indifferent to the reality of their actual lives.

You may not like where you're at, but that's the only place you are, and it's the only place you can live for Jesus. Exile, in all its forms, sucks. No doubt about it. But you have to come to terms with the reality that this may be where you're always going to be.

The only place you have to be human is where you are right now. The only opportunity you will ever have to live by faith is in the circumstances you are provided this very day: this house you live in, this family you find yourself in, this job you have been given, the weather conditions that prevail at this moment. ...The aim of the person of faith is not to be as comfortable as possible but to live as deeply and thoroughly as possible--to deal with the reality of life, discover truth, create beauty, act out love.

Peterson goes on to write that exile forces us to make a decision between feeling sorry for ourselves or making the best of our circumstances.

We can say: "I don't like it; I want to be where I was ten years ago. How can you expect me to throw myself into what I don't like--that would be sheer hypocrisy. What sense is there in taking risks and tiring myself out among people I don't even like in a place where I have no future?"

Eugene Peterson, get out of my head! I'm guilty of saying these exact words, and for years! But, he says, we have a choice. And that is only the first path we could choose. The second is far better.

Or we can say: "I will do my best with what is here. Far more important than the climate of this place, the economics of this place, the neighbors in this place, is the God of this place. God is here with me. What I am experiencing right now is on ground that was created by him and with people whom he loves. It is just as possible to live out the will of God here as any place else. I am full of fear. I don't know my way around. I have much to learn. I'm not sure I can make it. But I had feelings like that back in Jerusalem. Change is hard. Developing intimacy among strangers is always a risk. Building relationships in unfamiliar and hostile surroundings is difficult. But if that is what it means to be alive and human, I will do it."

I wish I had been living like this for the past several years, rather than wallowing in self-pity and flying the flag of entitlement. This is how we live with hope in Babylon.

Peterson concludes the chapter with these wise words:

Exile is the worst that reveals the best. ...Exile reveals what really matters and frees us to pursue what really matters, which is to seek the Lord with all our hearts.

I know you don't feel it, but God is in your exile. He is with you, but the only way to find him there is to quit trying to get back to Jerusalem. Stop longing for the good old days, and live with hope in this foreign land. There is hope in Babylon because God is with you there.

Being Sick

For the third time this winter, I'm sick. These things happen more often when you have kids, and with three of them who always seem to have something wrong between them, I've been sick more this cold & flu season than any other I can remember.

I don't do well when I get sick. My body gets overwhelmed. I get cranky. I convince myself that some day God will vindicate me by revealing to all mankind that no human has ever experienced more pain than Andy Holt when he gets sick. In short, this is me:



This, of course, puts a great deal of stress on my wife. So I've tried to take a closer look at what happens to me when I get sick so that I can make life better for her.

What being sick reveals about my character is that I'm a pretty selfish person. I also become absorbed in my own trials and circumstances and am unable to empathize with others. What troubles me about this is how this reflects my true character--character that will be revealed not simply by being sick, but by trials and difficult circumstances of all kinds.