The pursuit of God

In this month’s Banner of Truth Magazine, Sinclair Ferguson explains the balance we need in our lives between the pursuit of godliness and the pursuit of God. He says:

When we are concerned about spiritual experience, there is always a danger that the pursuit of it will become a thing on its own, set loose from its anchor and moorings in the glory of God himself. When that happens we may indeed become more interested in our personal godliness than in God. While the Puritans were deeply concerned about personal experience, they were convinced that it flows from the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, from the love of God the Father, and from fellowship or communion with the Holy Spirit. They were God-centred in this sense, not experience-centred. Their vision was always upwards to the glory of God. (“The Puritans: Can they Teach us Anything Today?”, Banner of Truth Magazine 543 (Dec 2008): 10. Online: part 1, part 2)

It reminded me of a recent conversation I had in similar vein about the balance between attendance to public worship and personal experience or that worship. I was of the opinion that balance was not to be achieved by being right in the middle, but that we needed to be on the side that embraced regular attendance at the public worship of one’s own local congregation, however it was styled, rather than the side of seeking an ‘exalted experience’ of God. My friend considered experience more important, since he considered the greater danger was in dry and perfunctory worship.

I know that it is equally possible to go to excess in either experiential worship, or in a legalistic doctrinal emphasis that is devoid of the Spirit. But it does make all the difference where one stands, on which foundation one is depending.

The foundation of experience is insufficient to bear the weight of the tension that is involved in becoming godly without losing sight of the Triune God. There is a serious danger that God will become little more than a buddy or best mate should we anchor on the side of experience. However intimate our relationship with God, he must never be reduced that that level. Is it not less likely that ‘depth’ of experience will result in greater intimacy with God?

The Word of God gives a sure and solid foundation, and that is where we ought to moor ourselves. Worship that starts from the Word of God, as it is read, sung, prayed and preached, is the best foundation. That Word is God’s sure revelation of himself. Attending to preaching that glorifies God and magnifies Christ is the vital thing, however ‘poor’ it may otherwise be.

‘Poor’ worship, I have found, usually to be a euphemism for singing in a style other than contemporary, popular music that mirrors the world. It usually takes no account of prayer, Scripture reading, and preaching. What thought is given to preaching invariably concentrates on style and delivery, rather than subject. It may be termed dry, irrelevant, or even boring. I wonder if such characterisations are not more of a commentary on ourselves when we say such things. Do we fail to appreciate the majestic God who is the subject of the sermon? (I speak of honest, biblical, God-centred, Christ-exalting preaching.)

Is it not that we have been anchored too long in experience? We do not come prepared, expecting to worship God corporately through the whole of the service, but come unprepared, merely expecting a personal experience that will pick up us, and hopefully set us up for another week. We come as takers, not givers. We do not receive what we want because we expect entirely the wrong thing. We expect to enjoy the worship, that is, we expect to enjoy ourselves. And if we feel we enjoy ourselves then we will perhaps give God the credit, when we ought to come to give God the glory, and enjoy him.

I, for one, want to anchor on the side of God’s glory, and avail of the ordinary means that he has appointed for my godliness. Those means may be unspectacular, but I trust in his hands they will be glorious and glorifying.

Thankful eating

Earlier this year I watched the BBC television series Masterchef. I like my food, but I wouldn’t be as fanatical as the contestants or judges. What struck me, however, about the final banquet for the Michelin-starred chefs was not the high quality of the cooking or presentation, but the lack of thankfulness to the provider of the food. There was plenty of praise for the contestants, and deservedly so, for they were certainly accomplished chefs. But there was no thanks offered to the one who provided the food — the living God. No one offered audible thanks to him, either before, or during, or after the meal.

The fare in our home at meal time is certainly not Michelin-starred quality (I should know, I’m the chef!). But without fail, before we eat we thank Almighty God for his gracious provision. Without him we would have nothing. We ask him for our daily bread, the least we can do is thank him when he provides it. And yet, it is not merely the least we can do, but all we must do, for he provides our food, and all our needs.

A true love story

Reading Genesis 24 recently I was struck by the ending. Not the way Hollywood, or the BBC, would have portrayed it. We see Isaac take Rebekah, but not quite in the sense the movies use the phrase. This is quite a different taking. It’s the same taking, if not done in quite the same way today, as is done by every man and woman who desire marriage — “Do you take . . . to be your wife/husband?”

Isaac took Rebekah into the tent, but the camera stays outside. We do not need to enter the tent. Indeed, we ought not to enter the tent. What happens there is neither for us to share, or imagine. What is important is not the entering of the tent, or what happens there, but that Rebekah became his wife, and that Isaac loved her. Here is marriage as God intended, with all that those two phrases entail.

As divinely told, the story is as tender as when God introduced Adam to his wife. Yet, these are no Hollywood fantasies, endearingly romantic, but utterly unreal. The whole story is one of God’s careful and marvellous providence, not just the ending. How else could it end: “he loved her”? How could he not? Did we not love her the moment she stepped up to the well?

But more than that, we bowed our heads with Abraham’s servant and worshipped with him, did we not? For, as tender as the love Isaac had for Rebekah, more tender was the love that planned it all. That wise old servant saw it clearly when he said, “Blessed by the LORD, the God of my master Abraham, who has not forsaken his steadfast love and his faithfulness toward my master.” (Gen. 24:27)

This is the whole point of the story, is it not? With what relish and excitement must he have related everything to Isaac on his return, before Isaac took Rebekah. How could this not have been the highlight of his story? And what a perfect beginning to their marriage, to see and to know the hand of God so clearly in all the detail.

And as perfect as the story we read is, much more perfect is the providential love God still has for his people. Ought we not to stand by the well ourselves from time to time, and bow our heads and worship that selfsame God. Edith McNeill put it well in her paraphrase of Lam. 3:22-23:

The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases,
His mercies never come to an end;
they are new every morning, new every morning:
great is Your faithfulness, O Lord,
great is Your faithfulness.

The glory of undeception

It struck me this afternoon as I returned from worshipping with the Lord’s people that there was a tremendous difference in the volume of traffic then with that earlier when I had been walking the short distance to where we meet. A couple of hours earlier the number of vehicles I saw was in single digits. The road was quiet, the local Presbyterians were already gathered for worship, and the local Anglicans had finished — Baptists get a lie in before worship!

Once I turned the corner onto the main road the roar of traffic greeted me. And the focus was the local petrol (gas) station and convenience store where evidently the lure of mammon was greater than the attraction of the Almighty. How different a Sunday the undeceived spend from the deceived — it put Revelation 20, which was the passage of this morning’s sermon, into a contemporary context. It is the business of Satan to deceive the whole world. But what blessing there is when the “light of the gospel of the glory of Christ, who is the image of God” (2 Cor 4:4) shines in the heart. How grievously were our first parents deceived by the deceiver of the whole world — that single deception affected the whole world, for that “one man’s trespass led to condemnation for all men” (Rom 5:18). But, conversely, “one act of righteousness leads to justification and life for all men.”

May we who are undeceived truly know “the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ” (2 Cor 4:6) this day, and every day, and be drawn closer to the Almighty and living God.

True Value

It has well been said that some people know the price of everything, but the value of nothing. Sadly, when it comes to faith in Christ, many are completely clueless about true value. We may talk about value judgments, but without knowing what true value is, or how to make sound judgments, we really only exercise personal preferences.

Marketeers work on the concept of perceived value. Sometimes we are pleasantly surprise when we receive something of real value, like the expensive watch we received some time ago for very little. But more often we soon realise that we have been sold a shoddy and valueless piece of junk. The only value in the transaction accrued to the unscrupulous marketeer, whose bank balance was greatly enhanced. Such experience, and particularly our failures, can lead us into a cynical state where we refuse to believe it is possible to know true value.

Twice this past week I’ve been faced with the concept of true value. On Sunday, R C Sproul preached on The Precious Blood of Christ, and on Thursday evening the opening hymn and Scripture reading at the prayer meeting and Bible study focused on the preciousness of Christ. A reprise of our earlier studies in Daniel reminded us that the major theme of chapters 1-5 is the question of value. Witness the bookends of references to the sacred Temple vessels, and the many references to precious metals in the various images. The culmination of God’s assessment of Belshazzar, the king with no scruples and no values, is all about value.

True value, ultimate value, is to be found in God himself. Christ is that “chosen and precious” cornerstone (1 Peter 2:6) whose “precious blood” (1 Peter 1:19) has ransomed his people whose faith, when it is tested for genuineness, proves more precious than gold (1 Peter 1:7). No wonder Christian believers consider God’s promises “precious and very great” (2 Peter 2:4), for it is through them that we may become partakers of the divine nature.

These are things of true value. But without God, they are simply empty words of promise and futile gestures if Christ was merely a deluded human being. And Christian believers are simply gullible if they suffer for a vain faith. Their value is not intrinsic, but extrinsic. It is their relationship to God, the fact that they derive from God’s character and being, that gives them value — real value, true value, eternal value.

The challenge of earthly life is to recognise that true value, and to let it have an abiding and persuasive influence on us. Viewed form the framework of earthly values we will reject God’s Living Stone, the Lord Jesus Christ, while in reality he is “in the sight of God chosen and precious” (1 Peter 2:4). Not to concur with God’s value judgment of his Son is to being dishonour and ultimately divine judgment on one’s head. But to concur with it wholeheartedly is to bring oneself honour, rather than shame.

Whatever we value in life, may our supreme value be God’s chosen and precious Cornerstone — the Lord Jesus Christ. He is of supreme value, and only a life supported by such value and strength will be truly worthwhile and of lasting value in God’s sight.

God of the second chance?

Recently I heard someone say that our God was the God the second chance. In fact, they said he was the God the the second, third, fourth and fifth chance.

I’ve heard such things said before, but this time I wondered if it were true. Somehow I didn’t feel it was.

My problem is this. If I think God is like that, might I not come to presume on him being a soft touch? I know I fail him, and I don’t like it, but it is a fact.  I’ve repented many times of failure, and I know I’ve been forgiven for my sins (1 John 1:9). But is that the same as saying God gives me another chance?

Gos is a God of grace — dealing with me not as I deserve, but in mercy, and totally undeserved favour. To my mind that’s in a whole different league from chances. Chances are finite. Chances keep a tally. Chances keep the score. Grace is abundant, immeasurable and unfathomable. It’s more than a matter of semantics. I think it is a totally different mind set. Somehow grace breeds responsibility for my actions, which thinking of chances could generate a carelessness.

Peter’s questions about forgiveness (Mat 18:21) and Jesus’ answer (Mat 18:22-35) illustrates the difference in mindset. Peter’s question came from the mindset of chances — how often? how many times? Jesus’ answer, though initially couched in terms of times clearly moves us beyond keeping score. His parable shows mercy and grace in operation. And it also shows the necessity of responsibility on the part of the forgiven. The first debtor had not grasped the implications of his master’s grace and mercy.

Yes, grace may be abused, as Romans 6 also implies. But I will only abuse it if I do not understand it. “How shall we who died to sin still live in it?” (v 2) When I have grasped grace I will relinquish my grip on sin as surely as a toddler releases the dangerous knife when his mother proffers a favourite toy.

I think I am more likely to be misled by chances. Accepting and understanding grace will make my expectations more realistic. Chance is such a worldly concept. There is great danger I will let the world shape my concept of God. Grace is divine and unworldly. I’d prefer to have my concept of God shaped by him and his grace.

Buíochas le Dia

I only heard about the Boeing 777 crash landing at Heathrow last last night. Undoubtedly the pilot’s skill in landing the plane so safely is to be commended. The lack of serious casualties stands in stark contrast to many plane crashes in recent years. One ITN reported concluded his news report with words like, “tonight the passengers have much to be thankful for.” Indeed they do, but to whom?

Perhaps comments like, “Thank God we’re down safely,” were made by some of the passengers. But I wonder if they were mere expressions of relief rather than genuine thankfulness to the living God.

To be thankful must imply someone to be thankful to. It is not possible to be truly thankful without someone to whom that thanks is addressed. There is a world of difference between exclaiming, “Thank God!” and “Thank you, God!”

As the news report ended, my wife noticed her mother sitting with eyes closed. Thinking she had dozed off in her chair, my wife thought she would waken her as it was time for bed, only to be told she was thanking God for the safety of the passengers and crew. That is the difference between “Thank God!” and “Thank you, God!”

Before I went to bed myself, I read another few pages from G. K. Chesterson’s Orthodoxy, where I came across these words:

The test of all happiness is gratitude; and I felt grateful, though I hardly knew to whom. Children are grateful when Santa Claus puts in their stockings gifts or toys or sweets. Could I not be grateful to Santa Clause when he put in my stockings the gift of two miraculous legs? We thank people for birthday presents of cigars and slippers. Can I thank no one for the birthday present of birth? (p. 52, Image Books 1959 reprint)

It’s a common Irish expression, “Buíochas le Dia,” or “Thanks be to God!” When we say it, may we direct it intentionally to the one who deserves it.

King of the Jews

During Sunday morning’s service Matthew 2 was read. I was struck by the strangeness of the phrase in verse 4 “the people’s chief priests and scribes”. Was this Matthew’s way of drawing our attention to the Gentile Herod? He may have been known as the King of the Jews, but he was no Jew himself. How unlike the King of the Jews who was born as his reign came to an end.

Herod was no Son of David, as Jesus was. Jesus’ lineage is emphasised as the angel addresses Joseph as Son of David. An Matthew leaves his readers with tantalising hints to Jesus’ real identity all through his Gospel. Jesus is called “Son of David” several times. Even blind men saw it clearly (9:27; 20:30,31). So did children (21:16). But not Herod’s priests and scribes, the teachers of Israel.

Herod was the last King of the Jews. Though his son Archelaus ruled in his place he was not granted the title king, and the later Herod was but a tetrarch. But the one whom the wise men sought as the newborn King of the Jews, who was mocked by soldiers with the words, “Hail! King of the Jews” (27:29), and over whose cross hung the words “This is Jesus the King of the Jews” (27:37) was more King of the Jews than the wily Edomite who claimed the title.

Matthew begins his Gospel with the death of one King of the Jews and the birth of the next, or rather the final King. He ends his Gospel with the death and resurrection of The King of the Jews. And that risen King exercised authority to which Herod no doubt aspired, but could never attain. That King could truthfully and accurately claim, “All authority has been given to me in heaven and on earth.” (Mt 28:18)

But, King of the Jews though Jesus was, he is not just King of the Jews. Rather he is King of Kings and Lord of Lords, King of all nations. Gentiles gave him homage at his birth, and in his name his disciples go to all nations to make disciples. This is the King the Christmas story brings to us.

Maintaining devotion to Christ

This evening I came across a note I had written in a notebook some time earlier this year. I can’t remember what prompted me to write it, and I’m sure the idea wasn’t entirely original, so if anyone knows anything similar, perhaps they would let me know.

It’s a short step from thinking God doesn’t matter, to thinking he doesn’t exist. It may be fashionable to parade one’s atheism in public, but there is a danger for Christian people that we can live as if God didn’t matter, and worse, as if he didn’t exist.

Far from being closer to God in a garden than anywhere else on earth, Eve found it easier to think God didn’t matter when she was in the Garden. It seemed to make so much sense when the idea was suggested to her by a talking snake. Now that ought to have sent alarm bells ringing in her head. It’s one thing to think that God doesn’t matter, but it’s another thing altogether to take advice on theology from a talking snake.

The sobering thing to realise is that we live in what might be termed less than the ideal circumstances of Eden. How much easier to make Eve’s mistake, and be deceived about our Maker. There are still plenty of talking snakes giving advice on theology! But Paul’s advice is still relevant:

But I am afraid that as the serpent deceived Eve by his cunning, your thoughts will be led astray from a sincere and pure devotion to Christ. 2 Corinthians 11:3.

We need to be on our guard against gaining a wrong perspective on life. Both messages today from our pastor stressed this need. This morning we were reminded of just who Jesus really is (from Revelation 1:9-20). He is not the domesticated figure the world likes to portray him as. He is the very God of heaven. No wonder John “fell at his feet as though dead”. This evening we considered true value from Matthew 13:44-46, and once again our thoughts were directed to Christ. The antidote for practical Christian atheism (living as if God didn’t matter, or worse, as if he didn’t exist) is constant consideration of Christ, his value and his worth.

Frustrated plans

This morning in the Tenth Presbyterian service, Marion Clark prayed that when our plans are frustrated we might not assume God’s plans are similarly frustrated.

It can be easy to follow that false line of thinking because we often forget that the timescale of eternity is not that of time. We can also make this fundamental mistake because we imagine God to be in our image.

But God’s thoughts are not our thoughts, neither are our ways his ways (Is 55:8). The immense gap should warn us of the danger of attributing our frustration to God.

How foolish it seems in retrospect to attempt to judge one whose judgments are unsearchable and whose ways inscrutable. We rightly ask, “Who has known the mind of the Lord, or who has been his counsellor?” When our plans are frustrated we can and must say, “for from him and through him and to him are all things. To him be glory for ever. Amen” (Rm 11:33-36)