Sunday, December 27, 2009

Men and Angels Sing

There are moments no camera, microphone, canvas, or poetry can capture. They must be lived.

One such moment of transcendent wonder was the night of Jesus' birth which must have been etched forever in the minds of anonymous shepherds who first received the great and joyous news that their Savior was born in Bethlehem.

Glory shone around them, but the glory "of the Lord" is a singular grade of splendor not reproducible through an artist's brush or poet's pen.

Thomas Kindade, the popular "painter of light" has portrayed on canvass a Jerusalem sunset and a sunrise on the Sea of Galilee. Another, called "The Good Shepherd's Cottage" is described in brochures as "utterly comfortable" and "radiant with light." But should he attempt to capture the field of Bethlehem washed with the glory of the Lord, I imagine the shepherds would politely decline it as nothing near what they saw. The splendor of the Lord was neither soft nor mellow.

Rather, this glory unnerved and overwhelmed the shepherds --- and, mind you, these were not men easily upset. The Bethlehem shepherds were not delicate fellows. They earned a masculine and wearing livelihood. They weathered the elements. They drove away predators. Familiar with sling and staff they clearly were not shy or timorous men.

Yet the presence of one angel made them faint of heart, and the glory of the Lord filled them with fear. Hard-edged men, tough, veteran fellows quaked with fear. We usually don't dwell on this part of the Christmas story. In fact, perhaps too hastily we picture ourselves in their sandals and think how enchanting to be visited by an angel.

It must be remembered however that any emissary from Almighty God is not someone to meet casually. Yes, the angelic declaration is gladsome, but it is also sobering. I've wondered about our ordinary greeting of "Merry Christmas." To me the word merry suggests a cheery joviality of wassail and spiced punch.

However, let us never be casual or cavalier with the awesomeness of Christmas. The scene of trembling shepherds reminds us no matter how rugged, practical, or composed a man may think himself to be, no matter how sure of himself, unflappable, levelheaded, or cool, the bare glory of the Lord reduces all men to jelly.

One may be a roughneck, but coming face to face with the glory of the Lord is a seriously seismic moment.

For angels also.

Bear in mind, as this was no ordinary night for the shepherds, neither was it for the holy angels. I don't think it adequate to call them "merry." They were jubilant. As sacred ambassadors with a message of overwhelming importance to the world, they delivered it in the exultant strains of an anthem echoing ever since, "Glory to God in the highest and on earth peace among those with whom he is pleased!"

There is nothing routine in this holy night for the angels. Even though they had witnessed great events from creation to the giving of the Law, even though a cherub was stationed at the entrance of Paradise armed with a flaming sword, even though angels of light guided Hebrews in the desert, contended with Satan for the body of Moses, and fill prophetic literature nothing rivaled this night. They had long sung His praises and adoring His holiness, but this night is the superlative hour.

This night is God's magnum opus, a divine tour de force. In Bethlehem is revealed an act of God so amazingly beautiful that it must bring forth the full choirs of angels to sing the heavenly song of peace and goodwill even to an audience of lowly shepherds.

Here was not jolly news to jingle about, but the universal Gospel. Here were momentous tidings of great joy for which the world had waited thousands of years. It was the glorious and magnificent information that told of God and His care and love for mankind. The battle for the salvation of all people from sin and death would not come through legions of angels or by the ranks of tough and sturdy men. It would be waged by a single baby wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger.

The angels can only watch with awe. The shepherds can only go and see this wonder. Neither light-invested angels nor strapping men familiar with hard toil will be able to do what this newborn Christ will do. In this child is God's ultimate commitment of Himself. He has made His eternal Son a man-child. He has made the Son of God not only lower than the angels but lower even than these earthy shepherds.

God has humbled Himself and exchanged His glory for the gore of a cross to come. This too, no pen or paintbrush, no human word or wisdom can fathom.

It must be lived.

And Jesus Christ lived it. He lived our life. He took on our nature and our burdens. He lived our sorrows and assumed our sins. And then He endured our death. He came and completed what choirs of men and angels will sing about for all eternity -- the gladsome truth that the Savior of the world is Christ the Lord.

Thursday, December 10, 2009

It Ain't Easy

1 Corinthians 9:24-27

Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one receives the prize? So run that you may obtain it. Every athlete exercises self-control in all things. They do it to receive a perishable wreath, but we an imperishable. So I do not run aimlessly; I do not box as one beating the air. But I discipline my body and keep it under control, lest after preaching to others I myself should be disqualified.

The Christian vocation calls for maximum exertion of thought, speech, will, and endurance along with plain guts. To say the least, it is difficult to live by faith in Jesus Christ. The hard work of a Christian is too frequently ignored by arm-chair Christians and, I’ll admit, not often enough preached.

Of all human callings the most difficult is a profession of Christ. It has nothing to do with talent. Whether one is clever or clumsy, whether mentally challenged or excels, the demand is the same. Let me be blunt: self-governance of thought, speech, and will is not just difficult, it is impossible. None of us has mastery of the tongue (James 3:8), of unruly thoughts, or of a flaccid will?

I have tried to picture even one day perfectly lived in Christian faith and discipline, a day without regret or shame. If I can't even imagine such, how shall I achieve it? In all my years I have yet to boast of one hour of reaching righteousness let alone a day. No Christian can manufacture perfection.

In sports one may hope one day to bowl a perfect 300. The amateur may accidentally heave a full court basketball into the hoop -- once. The no-hitter in baseball is rare but isn't impossible. But reaching moral perfection and righteousness before God by talent, effort, or luck is hopeless. To imagine otherwise is delusional.

In his letter to the Corinthians, St. Paul does not promote a “zone” of Christian action by which to earn God's praise and achieve a little private satisfaction. It is said of athletes that being "in the zone” is an exhilarating experience. The truth is that being a Christian is most often wearisome hardship, persecution with continual struggle and strain. (2 Tim. 3:12)

Of his record-setting performance in Game 1 of the 1992 NBA Finals, Michael Jordan said, "I couldn't miss. The threes were like free throws; they just kept dropping. I was in a zone. It's like it doesn't matter what they do [to stop me]." The ”zone” seems to be a charmed place where mind and body work in perfect synchronization and seemingly without conscious effort. You can be sure this doesn’t describe the Christian life of which St. Paul writes.

“Without conscious effort,” “perfect synchronization,” and “charmed” don’t describe Christian faith and duty. The Christian life is hard-charging discipline of thought, effort, and will.

Paul doesn’t picture Christians as a gaggle of runners all competing to see who is better, but of spiritual athletes striving to live out that best of all lives given us in Christ.

It’s not about scoring higher or accumulating better statistics. The Christian is anyone who lives by faith in Jesus Christ, and the person who thinks that’s easy doesn’t know what faith is in actual practice.

The discipline and struggle of the Christian, the enormously difficult self-control and exercise of love is not what makes someone a Christian. Rather, it exemplifies Christ, confesses him, and reflects His living presence in us.

Our Christian life, for now, is here on earth where the life of faith is a cycle that begins with the gift of the Holy Spirit, concentrates on reception of grace and mercy through meditation on God's word, and results in spiritual attack. This in turn leads a person back to further prayer and intensive meditation. It is rigorous spiritual labor.

A Christian must not be a sofa spud or deadbeat. A Christian must not be aimless or worthless. Anyone who contributes nothing, volunteers nothing, tries nothing, changes nothing, and never takes a stab at living by faith is not a Christian -- NOT because he has to do something hard to become one but because a living faith in Christ dares to believe. We believe that for us Christ contributed everything, volunteered everything, endured the consummate struggle, and redeemed the world through His own sacrificial life, death, and resurrection.

If someone believes this, then the new life must, of necessity, will oppose with every fiber a flabby, carnal, and meaningless existence.

The Christian disciplines himself. He works and serves and struggles because he has not been called to be a bystander or mere spectator. He has been called into life -- robust, vital, and gusty life in Christ.

When it is so easy to be limp, baggy, or wilted, let us confess our puny faith and give thanks that living out the Christian life isn't easy.

Enter by the narrow gate,” Jesus said. “For the gate is wide and the way is easy that leads to destruction, and those who enter by it are many. For the gate is narrow and the way is hard that leads to life, and those who find it are few.” (Matthew 7:13-14)

Hear, hear!

Friday, December 4, 2009

Wednesday, December 2, 2009

Death Sentence Sermon

Genesis 3:15

I will put enmity between you and the woman, and between your offspring and her offspring; he shall bruise your head, and you shall bruise his heel.”

In Genesis 3, God preaches an Advent sermon to Satan. With no cute or clever delivery, God simply preaches the Advent of His Son, Jesus Christ, the woman’s offspring and Satan’s doom.

God speaks to the essential point which must be resolved. What is to be done about sin and it mastermind?

The Word of God is unambiguous. He makes no concession to demons who stir God's children to transgress His Word. Not for a moment will He endure sin without answer.

Here is God's counter-blow. There will be enmity; there will be hostility because no agreement can exist between darkness and light.

“For what partnership has righteousness with lawlessness? Or what fellowship has light with darkness? What accord has Christ with Belial? Or what portion does a believer share with an unbeliever? What agreement has the temple of God with idols?” (2 Cor. 6:14b-16a)

The first Advent sermon was a death sentence. Satan didn’t come away bewildered by a wrong impression. God unmistakably set down what He would do and endure to redeem His people.

God conclusively declared that He would give over His Son, born of a woman, to bear the poison of death for each of us.

There would be fatal conflict between the evil one and the pure beloved Son of the Father. There would be no middle ground.

All Christ-centered preaching is direct address. It is not give and take, negotiable nor elastic. Preaching is divine monologue which, without compromise or concession, proclaims Christ alone as God and Savior.

Ever since this investiture of the Gospel Satan has sought to bleach and neuter Advent. Short of having his crushing defeat annulled, and unable to conquer Christ, the devil haggles for parity, still to make a fight of it. But God preached the conquest of Satan, sin, and death by the coming of Christ. The preaching of Christ in Genesis 3 was not a set-back for Satan. Rather, it was his shattering.

Without Christ’s Advent, there would be no life for us, no future and no joy.

I often hear Christians lament how Christ is being taken from Christmas by substitution of “holiday” trees or the safer “seasons greetings.” But I believe Satan is far more interested in taking Christ out of Advent and Advent from you.

Christmas is subsequent to Advent. Advent delineates Christmas. Without Advent there is no Christmas. Without Genesis 3 there is no Luke 2. Without the witness of God's incarnate Son to the woman in Eden, there is no Son of God in the woman’s womb at Bethlehem. Without God's ultimate first Word there is no ultimate final hope.

God came to our rescue. Genesis 3:15 is the proto-Gospel, the direct antecedent of “good news of great joy that will be for all the people; for unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.”

The pulpit is for Christ alone. The mighty Advent sermon of Genesis 3:15 disallows anything other than Christ-incarnate, Christ-sacrificed, and Christ-victorious.

The Son of God has devastated death and sin. He has crushed Satan's head and in so doing borne all the damage of our iniquity Himself. The coming of Christ to have done this for us -- to have endured all this for us -- this is the incomparable Advent Gospel.