Goal Posts

Ephesians 1:15-23

For this reason, because I have heard of your faith in the Lord Jesus and your love toward all the saints, I do not cease to give thanks for you, remembering you in my prayers, that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of glory, may give you the Spirit of wisdom and of revelation in the knowledge of him, having the eyes of your hearts enlightened, that you may know what is the hope to which he has called you, what are the riches of his glorious inheritance in the saints, and what is the immeasurable greatness of his power toward us who believe, according to the working of his great might that he worked in Christ when he raised him from the dead and seated him at his right hand in the heavenly places, far above all rule and authority and power and dominion, and above every name that is named, not only in this age but also in the one to come. And he put all things under his feet and gave him as head over all things to the church, which is his body, the fullness of him who fills all in all.

How many years has it been since you saw fans pour onto a victorious football field and tear down the goal posts? That used to be the tradition. People would swarm the field, crush up against the wooden struts that would begin to sway. Sometimes a reckless kid would shimmy up one pole to add his weight to the teetering spire, and pretty soon over it would go. Ecstatic fans would all shout unreserved approval and the goal posts would be paraded around the field as trophies.

Improved, single base steel or aluminum goal posts at higher costs protected by a ring of stadium workers contributed to the end of this kind of demonstration, but I’m guessing the bigger deterrent is liability. It isn't worth getting someone hurt. But the goal post is still an symbol of ambition. Not just in sport, but in business, in academia, in war, in political campaigns, and in so many facets of life, the concept of a goal is revered. Reaching the goal is everything. Once met, you can tear it down and go off happy because you’ve won.

So, what is the goal of the church? Conversions? Heaven? Or is the goal more immediate? Making budget, getting through all the Christmas business of pageants, extra services, decorating, choir rehearsals, etc. But once the goal is met, tear it down and collapse. We’re done. That’s over. Wrap it up. Whew!

There surely is nothing wrong with goals, but one great danger is that, in having reached it, someone remains on a plateau. There was temporary revelry but what follows is long uninterrupted stagnation in which someone is satisfied to go no further.

Something like this must have been on the mind and heart of St. Paul when we wrote his beloved friends in the church of Ephesus. Weren’t they already Christians? Yes. Didn’t they by now have a saving faith? Yes. Didn’t they already love each other? Yes. Hey, that sounds to me like a congregation that has “arrived.” They have faith in the Lord Jesus and love toward all the saints. You’d think Paul would be comfortable enough with that. Game over. Goal achieved. Wrap it up. Settle down. Enjoy the luxury. We’ve arrived. Now we can coast, occasionally thinking back to the euphoric victory of Christ. But that’s wrapped up — right?

Well, yes. Christ’s redeeming work is done. He declared from the cross, “It is finished.” The object of his coming was achieved. But was it not for freedom Christ has set us free? (Gal. 5:1)

The work of redemption, the mission to save the world by His suffering, death, and resurrection is complete. The whole church is joyous for it and rightly so. Nothing needs to be added to the triumph of our God. The celebration will continue forever because His victory is that great! The death and resurrection of Christ is the central glory of Christendom, and the commemoration of what our Lord has done continues unendingly in the Feast of His Body and Blood.

Yet, it ought to be said that there is no diminution of the Gospel by speaking of further goals. The victory of Christ is meant to be honored and harnesses. Yes, our justification before God cannot be embellished. That great goal was not only met but exceeded because Christ paid double for all our sins. But in so doing, our Lord carries us into a new life and freedom in which we may realize ever more fully “the riches of his glorious inheritance” and “the immeasurable greatness of his power.”

Christians are not to sit on their haunches like listless pew warmers. God will not have us robbed of the endless discovery of His divine riches and the power he has invested in us. Ours is both a justified and sanctified life. Named God's own and enlivened to express it.

It is a very sad thing to hear, as I have too often, some baptized member say, “I believe in Jesus. Isn't that enough?” Well, yes, if we’re talking apples to apples. If the question regards whether all has been done for your salvation then be sure never to add one iota. But if we’re talking about an ever clearer and ever sharper understand of God and a life that advances from truth to truth, then there is much yet to grasp and much still to grow.

Christianity is not a stand still principle. It is a winged conviction that rises up and reaches out. They who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint.” (Is. 40:31)

“I believe in Jesus; that oughta be enough” is not to be used as the ultimate silencer which can exempt a Christian from any responsibility, any expectation of growth, any participation in Bible study, any greater service or amendment of a pattern they set for themselves. “I have faith in Jesus” is wonderful unless it mean: end of story; we’re done; that’s over; wrap it up.

The “I believe in Jesus; I’m untouchable” dodge is a very tough argument to get around because any criticism of it is taken as a judgment on one’s faith. That’s why it is so tempting to church people. It comes out sounding like confirmation is the only goal and once you prove you can answer basic questions, you’re guaranteed a box seat at church whether you use it or not. That is not the spirit of wisdom and revelation of which St. Paul writes.

That’s why he always remembered his Christian brothers and sisters in his prayers. He knew they were believers. He received reports of their faith and love. But that faith was not to be parked, lazy, or casual. Faith and love aren’t to be lumpy, inactive concepts. No one has been loved by God “in theory” or comes to faith “in principle.” Faith and love are the very expressions of Christ’s vibrant, productive life within us.

The soaring prospects in such a life couldn’t be more grand. God doesn’t mean for us to settle for just watching the church function — like spectators in some churchly grandstand. Paul means to excite us by the capacity of the Holy Spirit to give an ever-expanding wisdom and knowledge of Christ, the glorious comfort to know that through Him there is the immeasurable greatness of his power toward us who believe.

Don’t you sometimes just shake your head in wonder at the glorious riches and inheritance we have been given through Him? The vistas He has opened for us are immeasurable; and thank God that the Holy Spirit gives us eyes not only to see all the possibilities but then sets us to the receiving of the fulfillment of our salvation in the heavenly joy and transcendent ecstasy and bliss of future glory far beyond anything we can conceive at present.

It was by eyes so enlightened that St. Paul could speak of his own goal in the upward, ascending life of Christ. “I press on,” he said, “to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me. Brothers, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.”

Good Fruit His Fruit

Matthew 7:17-20

So, every healthy tree bears good fruit, but the diseased tree bears bad fruit. A healthy tree cannot bear bad fruit, nor can a diseased tree bear good fruit. Every tree that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire. Thus you will recognize them by their fruits.

Jesus is not really talking about trees, is he? But the observation is undeniable when he puts it this way. A tree with blight, canker, or blister rust is fire wood. What Jesus is really talking about is the distinction between divine righteousness and the unrighteousness in man. The former yields love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control (Galatians 5:22-23). The latter yields nothing good.

Health or disease in a tree is like fitness or disorder in a man. It is pervasive. A tree is either completely good or entirely bad. By definition there is no neutrality. Being poorly is in point of fact bad. Being defective isn't mostly bad. It’s unequivocally bad. Being flawed is bad. Anything not good is bad.

Thus humanity is not merely tinged with sin or shows only traces of unrighteousness. There is not one righteous man on earth. Fallen humanity is so corrupt from the core that sinners can do nothing but sin. Now, to say this is taken as an outrage by those who hold a complimentary view of themselves and believe good fruit can come from a bad tree.

Can't happen.

I have some trees in my front yard. A disease called rhizosphaera has taken hold of them and the trees are doomed. The lower branches already show the death, and the upper reaches are powerless against it. Those higher limbs have nowhere to run, no defense against the infection, and no hope. No amount of trimming, spraying, or fertilizing will change the inevitable. Those trees are incapable of ever being truly beautiful or fruitful again. I don’t want to cut them down, but I will have no choice because every bad tree, like it or not, is cut down at last.

It is a great tragedy to lose a tall majestic tree, but not nearly as terrible as losing a handsome, princely man who contracts a fatal pneumonia or develops terminal cancer. But how do you know of such an infection or malignancy?

By the symptoms.

Symptoms never precede disease. Symptoms never cause illness. Symptoms only manifest the real condition. And just as one can see the signs of health — the strong limbs, the wholesome foliage, and sweet fruit of a tree, so will righteous men be known by the virtuous yields coming from their hands, muscles, and mouth.

Conversely, signs of moral depravity, more grievous than any mere bodily symptoms, attest to the unholy mess of our fallen human nature.

Men are notorious for being dismissive of symptoms in themselves. A grower may swiftly attack a single case of leaf mold he detects in his orchard but lie to himself about the pain in his own chest running down his arm. Perhaps this is why Jesus uses the circuitous language of horticulture to make us take seriously the unspiritual condition of our own works. If it is true about trees, it is true about men.

During Advent it is exceedingly wise to take to account the warning, “By their fruits you shall know them.”

Of course, Jesus is not really talking about trees, is he? And he certainly is not talking just about other guys. He’s talking about me—about my works, my words, and my motives. The reality is that even one failure condemns the entire cause.

Just one case of mad cow seals the fate of the entire herd.

Just one mention of contamination results in the recall of every bottle on the shelf.

Just one word of untruth from a witness allows a jury to discount the entire testimony.

Just one act of pedophilia fouls a man’s entire legacy no matter how famous or successful he may have been.

St. Paul wrote, “The result of one trespass was condemnation for all men.” (Romans 5:18a) And does not Scripture also says, “Whoever keeps the whole law but fails in one point has become accountable for it all.” (James 2:10). But in our case, failure is not singular. The whole forest is lost.

Yet, in the midst of such devastation stands one tree with good fruit. How so? The wood is dry. The timber hewn. The root is gone. No green is seen, and spikes cannot cause the sap to run. Yet, like the miraculous staff in Moses’ hand, the tree buds forth flower and fruit. The fruit of that tree—the tree of the cross—is good. The consequence and effect of that tree is utterly good. By the fruit of that tree we see the quality of the whole. It may have the appearance of death—and was dead, but look more closely.

There is fruit!

And the fruit — the fruit of that tree is life for the world. The consequence of Calvary’s tree is water that flows with refreshment, grain that bursts with health-giving nourishment, and vineyards that drip with blessedness.

But we’re not really talking about a tree are we?

We are talking about the man nailed to that tree and the fruits of His living, suffering, service, and sacrifice. This is how we know Him.

By His fruits.

By the baptismal water flowing with rebirth, by the bread of the altar replete with God's forgiveness and the vintage of the chalice reviving the soul. Each bear witness to the core and character of the One whose coming has given life to us all, Jesus Christ.

Remember this glorious Advent promise, “There shall come forth a shoot from the stump of Jesse, and a branch from his roots shall bear fruit.” That fruitful branch is Jesus Christ. And you, dear believers, are the good fruit from Him.

Start All Over Again

John 3:1-12

Now there was a man of the Pharisees named Nicodemus, a ruler of the Jews. This man came to Jesus by night and said to him, “Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher come from God, for no one can do these signs that you do unless God is with him.” Jesus answered him, “Truly, truly, I say to you, unless one is born again he cannot see the kingdom of God.” Nicodemus said to him, “How can a man be born when he is old? Can he enter a second time into his mother's womb and be born?” Jesus answered, “Truly, truly, I say to you, unless one is born of water and the Spirit, he cannot enter the kingdom of God. That which is born of the flesh is flesh, and that which is born of the Spirit is spirit. Do not marvel that I said to you, ‘You must be born again.’ The wind blows where it wishes, and you hear its sound, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit.”

Nicodemus said to him, “How can these things be?” Jesus answered him, “Are you the teacher of Israel and yet you do not understand these things? Truly, truly, I say to you, we speak of what we know, and bear witness to what we have seen, but you do not receive our testimony. If I have told you earthly things and you do not believe, how can you believe if I tell you heavenly things?

Nicodemus was a good man, a wise and observant man. As a mature leader in Israel he had carefully observed Jesus and taken his time. Nicodemus had many of the qualities we should value and too often find lacking in men who ought to be leaders in the church. He was cautious and prudent, neither rash in his reasoning nor abrupt with his words. Nicodemus was a churchman and among his peers deserved to be regarded as a pillar of the Jewish community.

I think it a bit unfair to criticize Nicodemus for seeking out Jesus at night. Perhaps it looks as though he was a little cowardly. Did he fear a backlash from his colleagues in the Sanhedrin or is he simply being shrewd not to provide himself escape under cover of darkness if the encounter was unsuccessful? Let’s give him the benefit of the doubt. I prefer to think it was his desire for a serious personal conversation with this Jesus that motivated his coming in the wee hours when the commotion of the day had settled.

Some of the most valuable hours in my pastoral ministry have been in the hush and unhurried calm of a late evening when there is no “next appointment” and far less possibility of being interrupted by a phone call or children under foot.

This was not a clandestinely meeting, and Nicodemus was not there to worm something from Jesus or trap him. His first words were respectful and affirmative, “Rabbi, we know you are a teacher come from God.” Such is high praise from someone who, no doubt, had observed many religious figures over the years. But surely this Jesus was an authentic man of God who confirmed his legitimacy with persuasive acts, astonishing miracles, and extraordinary signs. Because of these great signs Nicodemus could draw no other conclusion but that Jesus was someone very special. This ruler of the Jews was impressed and perhaps quite different from many of his contemporaries, he was not so full of himself to deny it. He meant to pay Jesus a compliment and did so.

He was ready to look up to Jesus.

Nicodemus might be called a creditable seeker. He had watched Jesus, evaluated the man, processed his own thinking, drawn his own conclusions, and was willing to air his thoughts—all highly commendable qualities. Yet with all his wisdom and experience, Nicodemus did not yet understand what constitutes the true marvel of Jesus—not his superiority but his lowliness.

A mature religious man like Nicodemus can draw logical conclusions. A thoughtful adult can hold Jesus in regard and in honestly saying nice things about him believe that proper tribute has been given. Some very fine people like Nicodemus esteem the man of Galilee. It may startle us to realize that among level-headed Muslims, thoughtful Jews and even a few fair-minded atheists, Jesus is accorded a measure of respect as a teacher, as a model of morality, or for his piety.

But there is much more to Christ far beyond scholarship, investigation, or mature judgment. One cannot know Him unless reborn of water and the Spirit. If Nicodemus had hoped to have a learned, intellectual conversation in which Jesus (the teacher Nicodemus believed him to be), would further assist this very sincere ruler of the Jews to become just that much more capable and conscientious an observer, this was not where Jesus took him.

Nicodemus was invited to consider something utterly radical—starting all over again. Being born again. Jesus never denied the statement Nicodemus made regarding him. He was a teacher come from God. The signs of his ministry could not be done by anyone other than someone from God. But the Jesus we need is not discovered by detection or judgment or decision. That which is born of flesh is flesh. Nicodemus did not, as yet, realize that the track of the flesh does not ascertain God. Rather, it leaves a man only with himself.

The work of God the Holy Spirit, however, breathes life, and creates that living faith which knows the truth beyond the world of logic, science, observation, calculation, or philosophy. The best that sinful men can obtain—even men like Nicodemus—is merely a reproduction of their own imperfections. Attempting to esteem Jesus, they only show how little they know of Him.

So, Christ gives the better way… a brand new start. A whole new life. A birth wholly other than the birth of the flesh, a mother’s womb or a father’s will.

This is not to say that all Nicodemus’ good qualities have no value. It is to say those values cannot obtain the Kingdom of God. A man’s maturity, study, or performance cannot achieve what God by His own Spirit can do.

Here was a sweeping and fundament reversal for Nicodemus. He was bewildered. “How can these things be,” he asked. Here even was a ruler in Israel who did not understand … who did not even understand earthly things because he gave credence, authority, and his confidence to a fleshly approach to God that cannot deliver. How then can he understand heavenly things?

He can't. At least not by fleshly means.

He only can understand by means of the Spirit, that is by means chosen by God, by the new birth in Holy Baptism which is the new birth of the Spirit.

I have empathy for Nicodemus. We Christian men have all struggled similarly. How often we revert to our logic, reason, good sense, and skills! How often we have claimed ourselves secure in worldly opinions or conclusions only to have the same dissolve in delusion and dissatisfaction ? But Jesus did not abandon Nicodemus, nor does He us. Nicodemus became a follower of Christ. He carried Jesus’ lifeless body to its tomb Good Friday. And I’m sure Nicodemus was a witness of Jesus’ resurrection, that out of the lifeless womb of rock, the dead Jesus came forth alive—not by the strength of flesh but by the power of the Spirit.

As we prepare this Advent, let us not marvel at the achievement of man but at the work of the Spirit who has given us new birth into a living hope through Jesus Christ.