Seems obvious, right? Well, for most of history it was. The Law of Identity, which holds that a thing can be identified by its characteristics, has long been considered foundational to how we think and reason. These days, however, we can no longer assume people accept this to be a true and necessary presupposition for validating truth-claims, let alone for living life.
A well-known Christian pastor and blogger recently tweeted that before we can do preevangelism, we may need to convince people of the law of non-contradiction. While I certainly agree, I would suggest that before we can even do that, we may need to first convince them that a dog is a dog and not a duck.
Tuesday, May 27, 2014
Tuesday, May 20, 2014
The Backdrop to Justification in Romans, or, "Before We Talk About the Good News..."
In Romans 1:18-3:20, Paul makes his case for the just condemnation of all humanity. The gospel reveals the righteousness of God (1:16-17) and Rom.1:18-3:20 Paul goes to great lengths to demonstrate that man does not possess that righteousness. The result is that every person, non-religious and religious alike, Jew and Gentile, stands justly condemned and deserving of the wrath of God.
Then, beginning in 3:21, Paul turns to the gracious provision of the righteousness of God in Jesus Christ, which Barnhouse calls, "the heart of the epistle." But we might ask why didn't Paul start there? Why the spilling of so much ink over such things as sin and wrath and judgement? The reason is that Paul first must demonstrate our need and inability before he turns to how our need is met. The need is great and requires a great provision, but in order to see our great need, and better, in order to see the greatness of the One who meets our need, we must recognize just how dire our situation is. The sinfulness of humanity stands in contrast to the righteousness of God manifested in Jesus Christ. That is the purpose of 1:19-3:20 in Paul's overall argument in Romans.
Imagine a room with windows in it. It is daytime and quite a bit of ambient light is flooding the room. You turn on a lamp, and while some additional light is observable as a result, the brightness of the bulb is not really noticeable because there is so much ambient light already in the room. One may not even see any need for a lamp at all.
But imagine it is late at night and the room is dark. Now the need for the lamp is obvious, and when it is switched on, noticeable light floods the room. The same amount of illumination is being put out, so why the difference?
Obviously, the answer is found in how dark the room was prior to the light being switched on. The darker the room, the stronger the contrast and the more bright the bulb seems, even though it is putting out the exact same amount of illumination. In the bright room, the light was washed out by the existing light. In the dark room, it's importance and brilliance are evident.
That is something like what Paul is doing in these early chapters of Romans. It is why he spends so much time talking about the depravity of man and the reality that all are under condemnation. He is darkening the room so that, when he comes to 3:21 and the topic of justification, the brilliance of the light of this good news can shine with exceeding brightness. The contrast of the depravity of humanity and the reality of wrath, judgement and condemnation serve as the darkest of backdrops for the good news of God's provision of the righteousness we so desperately need but can't accomplish for ourselves. And when that gracious provision is finally introduced in 3:21, it stands in brilliant contrast as it shines against the backdrop of all that darkness, just like a light in a dark room.
Then, beginning in 3:21, Paul turns to the gracious provision of the righteousness of God in Jesus Christ, which Barnhouse calls, "the heart of the epistle." But we might ask why didn't Paul start there? Why the spilling of so much ink over such things as sin and wrath and judgement? The reason is that Paul first must demonstrate our need and inability before he turns to how our need is met. The need is great and requires a great provision, but in order to see our great need, and better, in order to see the greatness of the One who meets our need, we must recognize just how dire our situation is. The sinfulness of humanity stands in contrast to the righteousness of God manifested in Jesus Christ. That is the purpose of 1:19-3:20 in Paul's overall argument in Romans.
But imagine it is late at night and the room is dark. Now the need for the lamp is obvious, and when it is switched on, noticeable light floods the room. The same amount of illumination is being put out, so why the difference?
Obviously, the answer is found in how dark the room was prior to the light being switched on. The darker the room, the stronger the contrast and the more bright the bulb seems, even though it is putting out the exact same amount of illumination. In the bright room, the light was washed out by the existing light. In the dark room, it's importance and brilliance are evident.
That is something like what Paul is doing in these early chapters of Romans. It is why he spends so much time talking about the depravity of man and the reality that all are under condemnation. He is darkening the room so that, when he comes to 3:21 and the topic of justification, the brilliance of the light of this good news can shine with exceeding brightness. The contrast of the depravity of humanity and the reality of wrath, judgement and condemnation serve as the darkest of backdrops for the good news of God's provision of the righteousness we so desperately need but can't accomplish for ourselves. And when that gracious provision is finally introduced in 3:21, it stands in brilliant contrast as it shines against the backdrop of all that darkness, just like a light in a dark room.
Monday, May 19, 2014
Ecclesiastes: A Life Well-lived
I recently finished teaching through the book of Ecclesiastes for the third time this spring. I worked through the book with the 11th graders earlier this spring, then the 12th graders while simultaneously teaching it to a group of adults at my church. After all that time spent in Solomon's masterpiece, all I can say is, "What a book!"
What I would like to do in this post is offer a summation of the book as I have come to understand it over these past months. In doing so, I do not suggest that I have mastered it. Far from it! This is a book that demands a lifetime. I have only scratched its surface.
In many ways, Ecclesiastes is unlike any other book in the Bible. Written by Solomon probably toward the end of his life, it is a mix of autobiographical narrative combined with proverbial statements that present the reader with a worldview proposal. The book is then an invitation to accept and integrate this worldview into one's life, and in doing so, offer the hope of meaning and purpose in an otherwise meaningless and purposeless existence.
The main idea of the book, which I will come to in a moment, flows out of a question posed in 1:3: "What advantage does man have in all his work which he does under the sun?" (NASB). In posing this question, Solomon is asking the question that most people at one time or another ask as well: what is the point of this existence? We are born, we live, we die, but what is the point? Is there any profit for a man for all his labor? Is there anything that carries over once we have lived our life? Is there any surplus? As I said, at some point in time, we all ask this question, or at the very least, we come right up to the point of asking this question (whether we actually do or not depends on whether we want to actually discover the answer).
For Solomon, as for us, what is painfully obvious about life is that it is always changing. The only certainty is that there is little that we can be certain of. Everything changes; nothing is permanent. In fact, some interpreters have argued that is precisely what Solomon is saying when he ascribes life to "vanity," a Hebrew word which means "vapor" or "breath." In this view, Solomon's employment of this word, repeated twenty-two times throughout the book, forces us to recognize the temporary nature of life. Like the vapor exhaled on a cold winter's day dissipates and drifts away, so too does life. It is as though Solomon looks at life, with all it's changes and insecurities and declares it for what it is: transient and temporary. This is its nature. And because it is temporary in nature , it is a poor source for meaning and purpose, the very thing man so desperately seeks.
And in this transient world where there is little solid ground upon which to settle ourselves and begin to answer the opening question of the book, the very hope of finding an answer begins to diminish, to dissolve away like the very vapor Solomon compares it to. Ecclesiastes reaches into the chest of its reader and begins to squeeze his heart with this terrible revelation: he can't find what he so desperately seeks. Meaning, purpose, satisfaction, these are all beyond his reach. The desire is there, for God Himself has implanted that desire within the heart of man (3:11b), yet the ability to find it lies beyond reach (3:11c). For all the incredible things man can accomplish, he cannot find the answer to this most basic of questions. And why is this so? God has so designed it so that man will only find meaning, satisfaction, and purpose when he comes to understand that such things are only found in God. It is God who has given life as a gift to be enjoyed (2:24), who purposes every event under the sun (3:1), and who ultimately is the source of joy (6:20). In short, Ecclesiastes is a call to live life by faith in the God who alone can answer man's most pressing question: what is the point?
And this brings me to the big idea of the book. If we will apply this wisdom--to live a life of faith in the sovereign God who is Lord over time and the events that occur in it, who gives life as a gift, and especially if we begin to do so in our youth (12:1), at the end of life we will be able to look back and say, "There was meaning and purpose to my life, and even though there were some hard times, all in all it was a satisfying life. And the future has meaning as well, because there is everlasting profit to be enjoyed once this life is complete." Meaning and purpose in the day-to-day, and the promise of surplus for tomorrow, are available to the Christian who walks in faith with the Lord of meaning and purpose. That is the main idea of Ecclesiastes.
The Apostle Paul lived his life this way. In Acts 20:24, when he was addressing the Ephesian elders before he went to Jerusalem, he said this: "But I do not consider my life of any account as dear to myself, so that I may finish my course and the ministry which I received from the Lord Jesus, to testify solemnly of the gospel of the grace of God." This was his worldview, his philosophy of life. It was meaningful, satisfying and joy-filled. It wasn't always pleasant, and at times to someone looking in from the outside it may have seemed as though some of the terrible experiences of his life argued against his worldview and the worldview of Ecclesiastes.
But Paul never let the anomalies and apparent contradictions deconstruct what he knew to be true: God had a plan and a purpose for Paul, and that plan and purpose extended from this life into the next. For Paul, his responsibility was simple: "Fear God and keep His commandments" (Eccl.12:13). And the result of living this worldview? Paul himself summarizes it in his second letter Timothy: "I have fought the good fight, I have finished the course, I have kept the faith; in the future there is laid up for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will award me on that day; and not only to me, but also to all who have loved His appearing" (2 Tim.4:7-8; Eccl.12:14).
These are the words of a man who had grasped the message of Ecclesiastes. In a world that is ever-changing and seems to provide little in the way of solid ground upon which to find our footing, there is hope. Hope that, when the curtain of this life begins to close, we too can look back over however many years the Lord has given us and conclude with Solomon, Paul and the countless others who have faithfully walked with Jesus on the mountaintops as well as in the valleys: "It was a meaningful life. I am satisfied. And now comes the profit and surplus of eternity in the presence of the Savior Himself. Joy beyond anything I can imagine!"
Compared to this, everything else is just vanity and grasping after wind.
What I would like to do in this post is offer a summation of the book as I have come to understand it over these past months. In doing so, I do not suggest that I have mastered it. Far from it! This is a book that demands a lifetime. I have only scratched its surface.
In many ways, Ecclesiastes is unlike any other book in the Bible. Written by Solomon probably toward the end of his life, it is a mix of autobiographical narrative combined with proverbial statements that present the reader with a worldview proposal. The book is then an invitation to accept and integrate this worldview into one's life, and in doing so, offer the hope of meaning and purpose in an otherwise meaningless and purposeless existence.
The main idea of the book, which I will come to in a moment, flows out of a question posed in 1:3: "What advantage does man have in all his work which he does under the sun?" (NASB). In posing this question, Solomon is asking the question that most people at one time or another ask as well: what is the point of this existence? We are born, we live, we die, but what is the point? Is there any profit for a man for all his labor? Is there anything that carries over once we have lived our life? Is there any surplus? As I said, at some point in time, we all ask this question, or at the very least, we come right up to the point of asking this question (whether we actually do or not depends on whether we want to actually discover the answer).
For Solomon, as for us, what is painfully obvious about life is that it is always changing. The only certainty is that there is little that we can be certain of. Everything changes; nothing is permanent. In fact, some interpreters have argued that is precisely what Solomon is saying when he ascribes life to "vanity," a Hebrew word which means "vapor" or "breath." In this view, Solomon's employment of this word, repeated twenty-two times throughout the book, forces us to recognize the temporary nature of life. Like the vapor exhaled on a cold winter's day dissipates and drifts away, so too does life. It is as though Solomon looks at life, with all it's changes and insecurities and declares it for what it is: transient and temporary. This is its nature. And because it is temporary in nature , it is a poor source for meaning and purpose, the very thing man so desperately seeks.
And in this transient world where there is little solid ground upon which to settle ourselves and begin to answer the opening question of the book, the very hope of finding an answer begins to diminish, to dissolve away like the very vapor Solomon compares it to. Ecclesiastes reaches into the chest of its reader and begins to squeeze his heart with this terrible revelation: he can't find what he so desperately seeks. Meaning, purpose, satisfaction, these are all beyond his reach. The desire is there, for God Himself has implanted that desire within the heart of man (3:11b), yet the ability to find it lies beyond reach (3:11c). For all the incredible things man can accomplish, he cannot find the answer to this most basic of questions. And why is this so? God has so designed it so that man will only find meaning, satisfaction, and purpose when he comes to understand that such things are only found in God. It is God who has given life as a gift to be enjoyed (2:24), who purposes every event under the sun (3:1), and who ultimately is the source of joy (6:20). In short, Ecclesiastes is a call to live life by faith in the God who alone can answer man's most pressing question: what is the point?
And this brings me to the big idea of the book. If we will apply this wisdom--to live a life of faith in the sovereign God who is Lord over time and the events that occur in it, who gives life as a gift, and especially if we begin to do so in our youth (12:1), at the end of life we will be able to look back and say, "There was meaning and purpose to my life, and even though there were some hard times, all in all it was a satisfying life. And the future has meaning as well, because there is everlasting profit to be enjoyed once this life is complete." Meaning and purpose in the day-to-day, and the promise of surplus for tomorrow, are available to the Christian who walks in faith with the Lord of meaning and purpose. That is the main idea of Ecclesiastes.
The Apostle Paul lived his life this way. In Acts 20:24, when he was addressing the Ephesian elders before he went to Jerusalem, he said this: "But I do not consider my life of any account as dear to myself, so that I may finish my course and the ministry which I received from the Lord Jesus, to testify solemnly of the gospel of the grace of God." This was his worldview, his philosophy of life. It was meaningful, satisfying and joy-filled. It wasn't always pleasant, and at times to someone looking in from the outside it may have seemed as though some of the terrible experiences of his life argued against his worldview and the worldview of Ecclesiastes.
But Paul never let the anomalies and apparent contradictions deconstruct what he knew to be true: God had a plan and a purpose for Paul, and that plan and purpose extended from this life into the next. For Paul, his responsibility was simple: "Fear God and keep His commandments" (Eccl.12:13). And the result of living this worldview? Paul himself summarizes it in his second letter Timothy: "I have fought the good fight, I have finished the course, I have kept the faith; in the future there is laid up for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will award me on that day; and not only to me, but also to all who have loved His appearing" (2 Tim.4:7-8; Eccl.12:14).
These are the words of a man who had grasped the message of Ecclesiastes. In a world that is ever-changing and seems to provide little in the way of solid ground upon which to find our footing, there is hope. Hope that, when the curtain of this life begins to close, we too can look back over however many years the Lord has given us and conclude with Solomon, Paul and the countless others who have faithfully walked with Jesus on the mountaintops as well as in the valleys: "It was a meaningful life. I am satisfied. And now comes the profit and surplus of eternity in the presence of the Savior Himself. Joy beyond anything I can imagine!"
Compared to this, everything else is just vanity and grasping after wind.
Saturday, May 3, 2014
When All We Can Ask is "Why, Lord?
My wife and I were watching a bit of television this evening when we received the news that my friend Evan's Resplendent Bride (as he lovingly referred to her) Danielle had gone to be with the Lord after a long, courageous battle with cancer. In that moment, it was as though the air had been sucked out of the room. As a minister of the gospel, death is no stranger to me--it kind of goes with the job--and I am always sobered by the passing of a human being, but a few of these occasions strike me particularly hard, and leave me asking the question we all ask at one time or another: "Why, Lord?"
Why did the Lord feel that it was necessary to take Danielle home? To those of us who know Evan, either personally or through social media, he and Danielle's marriage, while brief, was the kind of marriage we all desire, and Evan is my model for how to be a Christian husband. The deepest love and commitment was the DNA of their union, and they freely proclaimed that their marriage was built on Jesus Christ and Him alone. I have never known a couple so devoted to one another, and their marriage was the best example of the love of Christ for His church that I have ever seen. As a couple, they not only believed in the high calling of a biblical marriage--they lived it!
So why did this happen? Why did the Lord feel it was necessary to call Danielle home? With so many marriages failing, even Christian marriages, why would the Lord not want to keep this one around as an example and encouragement to others? Why would He take Evan's beloved bride--the wife of his youth, His gift to him? It just doesn't make any sense to me.
My wife asked me how I was feeling. I didn't tell her the truth.
The truth is, I'm feeling confused, extremely sad, and a little bit angry. I am also asking, "Why, Lord?"
What is the right response in a moment like this. As a Christian, how am I supposed to feel? Is it okay to be confused? Sad? Even a little bit angry? These are normal human emotions, and God is a big God...He can handle them. But always our big God calls us to bigger things, and so, as I sit here, my head swirling with Scripture and my heart crying out in prayer even as the tears fall, I am driven to the reality that, in the end, their can be only one response of the Christian to his God, no matter the circumstance:
Faith.
I freely admit that I do not understand why this has happened, but I know the God who is Lord over time, the One who has numbered our days and promises to sovereignly direct us through each one until we reach that final day. Of Him who so loves us and chose us before the foundations of the world, shall we accept only the good and not the bad. That was Job's question, and he asked it knowing full well what his answer was. It is the same answer that must be mine tonight, as I sit here in the dark. For the Christian the answer must be,"I accept both, for He is Lord of both."
If Jesus is to be Lord of our lives, then we must allow Him to be Lord over every area and event of our life, the good and the bad, the happy and the sorrowful. As children of God, we do not need to know the "why" to every thing that happens--we only need to know the Who by whose permission they occur. Part of learning to walk with the Lord Jesus through this messy, sin-affected life is learning to trust that He is God, and I am not. How desperately we need this perspective in those moments when all we can ask is, "Why, Lord?" Take courage, for He is seeing His purposes through, and they are perfect: perfect in plan and in execution.
Our hearts break at times, and at moments the grief seems almost unbearable. But those moments are also precious opportunities for our spirits to soar as we finally open our clenched fists and say, "Okay, Lord. I belong to you. Your plan and purposes are so far greater then anything I could ever begin to imagine."
"Do with me as you will."
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