2007 February-- Ineffable Grace

February 18th, 2007

“Be anxious for nothing…” says Philippians 4:6, in a handy little catchphrase that we memorize in kindergarten Sunday School and use for the rest of our lives to establish the stolid fact that worry is a sin.

And worry is a sin. But I was thinking last night as I was lying in bed and being a little bit anxious about some things, that using that verse simply to condemn worry is really quite missing the point.

Suppose I found myself in a great palace for a visit. The king, who is ruling an absolute monarchy, has servants that hop-to when he says so, and he has a truly impressive supply of food and wealth. In a very real sense, this king can truly accomplish anything he wishes–certainly anything I could think of on an individual level. Suppose, too, that this king is no tyrant, but is reknowned for his kindness and graciousness. No one starves in his kingdom. And suppose that I am at the palace as his special guest. As I’m being shown around the palace grounds, the king, who knows that most days he’s going to be in court and in meetings, turns to me and says, “by the way, don’t worry about a thing. If you need anything, just ask.”

If the king’s word is law, then it would be just to interpret his words as a command not to worry. And for me, as his guest, to worry about something he is more than capable of providing would be ungrateful at best and, in a sense, sin. But in light of the surrounding situation, to focus in on that single phrase and build a philosophy around it–instead of focusing on the larger picture where the king is clearly anticipating every need and meeting it–would be a serious error of perspective. The king didn’t mean for his guests to go around focusing on not-worrying, he meant for his guests to focus on how wonderfully and perfectly he provides for them! And the guest who sits in their room wondering where their next meal is going to come from is nothing short of foolish and blind.

That was a very thin little allegory, but it really struck me last night. The problem isn’t worrying; the problem is failing to understand and trust that God does and will take care of us. There’s a reason why Paul didn’t just say “don’t worry” and leave it at that; he finished the thought by saying “but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God.” That’s the answer to worry!

To some extent, I think I’ve suffered from an over-familiarity with this verse. It seems like at a certain point, you’ve got the thing memorized so much that it can stop making vibrant sense. And so I have this idea in my head that we’re supposed to block worry out of minds somehow, and “just” pray about it instead. From a human standpoint, that’s not very encouraging. I have to psych out my mind to get it to stop focusing on the bad (worry) and then I have to kneel next to my bed and compose a prayer about it, too? Like, oh, boy, not only do I not get to think about this stuff that my mind is burning with, but then I’ve got to pray about it? And that’s going to help me how? Clearly this is not the attitude that believers should have toward prayer, but the fallen part of me would really like to think that way sometimes. Prayer doesn’t always seem like a practical solution to our very practical problems.

What I realized last night, though, is that the solution to worrying isn’t to worry less; it’s to know God more. The guest in the king’s palace who’s worrying about his dinner shouldn’t just sit in his room and think, “the king said not to worry, and so even though I think this is really worrisome, that I don’t know where my dinner is coming from, I’m just not going to think about it. I’m just going to sit here and try my best not to worry.” That isn’t what Paul says! He says don’t be anxious, but, i.e., instead, make your requests known to God. In other words, if you don’t know where your dinner’s coming from, stop moping in your room, go find the king, and tell him you’re hungry!

As an aside, this idea just blows me away. God is so infinitely more powerful and mighty and deserving of complete obeisance than the king in my little story. I think the verse recognizes that too, in elaborating that our requests are to be “by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving [lit., grateful language],” not just “God, give me some food!” Even still, though, the idea that we can approach the most infinite Being with “everything” (!) and make our requests known… God isn’t a king who expects us to stay in our rooms and take whatever He “just happens” to hand out; He tells us to make our requests known to Him! That’s mind-boggling. Can we even imagine such graciousness?

To return to my main point, I think part of the problem I face with seeing prayer as a real solution to worry is that prayer can seem more akin to sending a message via courier to the king to tell him I’m wondering about dinner than it is to go and talk to him myself. (Or maybe a better analogy would be that I text messaged His phone.) And so there’s room to wonder, did He get my message? Is He taking care of it? Does He really care about my dinner tonight? Is there any food in the house? But the reality is that God has already answered all those questions, and promises with all His Being to fulfill His answers.

God gives us good things all the time. In fact, all good things are from Him. So we should know from experience that He will fulfill our needs. “Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change” (James 1:17).
God is able to do more than we ask or imagine (Ephesians 3:20).
“Whatever you ask in prayer, you will receive, if you have faith” (Matthew 21:22, see also Luke 11:10, James 4:3, 1 John 3:22, John 16:24).
God causes all things to work for good for those who are called (Romans 8:28).
We can’t begin to imagine the good things God plans for us (1 Corinthians 2:9).
God promises to “supply every need” (Phillippians 4:19).

Either God is true in every particular, or He’s true in no particular–if I’m counting on Him for salvation, how much more I should count on Him for the lesser things!

reflections on the Groves family blog

February 12th, 2007

I think I appreciated the blog (linked a few days ago in the “asides”) of Al Groves and his family so much because in so many ways, their situation is precisely that which I dread: both he and I had rare primary cancers that are “treatable” in the initial form, but with reasonably high potential for secondary cancers down the road that are intrinsically untreatable.

The next time I go to have scans done, I could very well find out that I have one of those incurable secondary cancers. That’s a very intimidating thing to live with: to know that I could feel perfectly healthy, but go to a routine doctor appointment and come home with a number measured in weeks or months called “life expectancy.”

If I haven’t been clear on this before, let me be very clear now: that is what I struggle with, cancer-wise–knowing that this precise scenario is more likely than, say, me being in a car accident. And I’m one of these people who wants to plan everything out. I am not spontaneous. I like to control my environment. And if I’m going to suddenly get the news that I’m going to die, well, I’d like to at least feel a little bit sick first so I can grow accustomed to the idea before having it thrust upon me, you know?

Mainly I’m afraid of how I will react, if that situation ever comes to pass. When you’re sitting in the doctor’s office waiting for results that are either “completely clear” or “imminent death,” let me tell you, it’s hard to prepare yourself mentally. It’s so stressful every time I go, because either I have to just ignore the possibility of the latter (and if it ever happens, be completely off-guard), or meditate on the possibility (and if it doesn’t happen, waste untold hours in useless stress). It’s a lose-lose situation from a human standpoint. But it’s really, really important to me to be in a position to react correctly if I do get the “bad” news.

(And yes, yes, I know the “right” answer–pray and trust God, and be prepared to be content with either situation, and don’t be anxious–but that’s very much harder to live than it is to say. I haven’t perfected the knack yet, and I don’t know that I will until I’m in heaven!)

All that to say… the reason the Groveses’ blog was so encouraging to me is because it helped me see a real, visible outworking of what to do in that situation. It makes me feel better prepared. It makes me less stressed. It makes me better able to praise God. I wanted to jot down some specific “lessons” I learned from the site.

Don’t discount miracles. This is really big for me, because I tend to (at least live like I) believe that God very, very, very infrequently heals people who medically have “no hope.” And I didn’t get the impression that the Groveses expected a miracle, but they were very precise in making sure that they still accorded God, not cancer, the credit for death. They used words like “medically incurable” and didn’t dwell on “I’m going to die” in a matter-of-fact way. Just because doctors give you a month to live doesn’t mean that you know your time.
Don’t dwell on death. Again, they were realistic about the probabilities, but I loved the entry where he talked about flossing his teeth, and clearly he was very involved in people’s lives right up through January. There almost seemed to be a “when it happens, it happens,” attitude which I think (reflectively) is hugely important.
In the process of dying, death becomes more comfortable. This is closely tied to the previous point; I found it amazing and very uplifting that as the end grew more obviously near, the family seemed to grow more at peace with the fact. Instead of becoming frantic and “only one more week!” there was the emphasis on how much better heaven would be than earthly suffering. It just goes to show how God uses suffering and pain to prepare our hearts better for heaven, and it it is a great encouragement to me to know that if my day ever comes, I can at least reasonably hope that similarly, God will make sure that circumstances collide so that I and those around me are glad to see me go before I actually have to go. This was a really important point for me, and I hope I’m expressing it comprehensibly.
“Dealing” isn’t necessary. At least not publicly! Seriously, though–part of understanding these previous three points is the logical conclusion that we shouldn’t borrow tomorrow’s troubles for today. It’s very hard not to do so (especially for someone like me!), but it seems like it is better to trust that whatever unhappy news tomorrow might bring, God will give us enough grace to survive it… tomorrow. And trying to prepare ourselves ahead of time for unhappy news we think might be coming is, in a way, evidencing a lack of faith in God to provide for us when it actually happens.

I don’t know the Groves family, obviously–I don’t know anything about them beyond what I read on their blog, which I read from beginning to end as I sat at my computer and cried and cried for their joy and for their loss and for their unwavering faith. And I don’t know that they would agree with these four things I learned from them. But I am so thankful for their testimony, because God used it in my heart in a very practical and immediate way, both cautioning and comforting me.

I would again encourage everyone to read the blog, starting at the beginning (and reading at least the beginning and end, if not the middle, although it’s all worth reading)–it is immensely encouraging and amazing evidence of what a gracious and all-powerful God we serve.

Cultivating Heavenwardness — To Glorify God and Enjoy Him Forever

February 10th, 2007

This is part of a series. You can read the introduction first or view all the posts together.

The Westminster Shorter Catechism poses the question, “What is the chief end of man?” The answer to that question and today’s “why I want to go to heaven” are one and the same.

Our primary and sole purpose now is indeed to glorify God (”whatever you do, do all to the glory of God,” 1 Corinthians 10:31) and rejoice in Him (”rejoice in the Lord always,” Philippians 4:4). And our primary and sole purpose in heaven will continue unchanged. We’ll be a lot better at glorifying Him, yes, but it has always been, and shall always be, that for which we were created.

In an assembly-line world, full of everything from multipurpose 4-in-1 printers to three-sizes-fits-all sweatshirts, I think it can be hard to grasp the concept of a truly single-purposed object. The things we surround ourselves with often do many things satisfactorily, but do few things extremely well. That’s why we have different “levels” of gadgets depending on whether, for instance, the printer is going to be used by a mom in her home or a printing company in the workplace. We also make lots of substitutions. When I don’t have cooking spray, I use canola oil. I use the same kind of flour to put in many different baked goods. When we don’t have good nails to use to hang pictures, we use whatever nails we have. We’re adaptable and flexible, by God’s marvelous design, and so it isn’t a big problem that most of us don’t know how to mill our own flour exclusively for each specific cake, or forge an ideally-shaped nail for each task.

So when we speak of being created for a single purpose, I’m not sure how much immediate meaning that connotes in our minds. One thing engineering can show us–as countless human tragedies have attested–is that when you try to use a part for something other than its intended use, chaos can result. If you apply forces to a metal pin in different directions or strengths than the pin was intended, the pin may twist and strain and eventually break. And so bridges and buildings have come falling down, simply because the builders tried to use parts to do things other than what they were created to do.

And it’s the same way with us. We were custom-tailored, fashioned by God with the greatest care, intended for one chief object: to glorify God. And when we’re acting outside of that original intention, we too get twisted, strained, and breaking. We were designed to glorify God, and we don’t do other things well.

But right now, we’re like metal pins in a bridge that’s collapsing. In a fallen world and in fallen bodies, we are not glorifying God perfectly nor are we enjoying Him completely.

In heaven, we will be in a perfect situation, perfectly fulfilling our intended “use.” If spending eternity glorifying God sounds uneventful now, it’s only because our understanding is incomplete: Scripture is very clear that God is our ultimate joy, and glorifying Him is our greatest occupation. Now we see as through a glass darkly, but in Heaven, nothing will fill us with such excitement as worshipping God! It’s like if we imagine our perfect, most ideal job, with the best benefits: the type of job where we jump out of bed in the morning because we can’t wait to get to work because we love what we do and we know we do it well–and that’s the description of our job in heaven!

And so, today’s reason why I want to go to heaven is because there is nothing better, nothing more enjoyable, nothing more pleasing, and nothing more fulfilling, than doing what I was designed to do! And that’s an idea I can only begin to grasp, but it’s such an amazing and awesome thing that I can’t wait to understand it in full!

This is the last of the ten posts. I might extend the series with two or three closely-related posts, also on the subject of heaven, but not specifically “why I want to go.” I’m not one hundred percent decided yet, but I have some thoughts floating around that I’d like to work through.

Cultivating Heavenwardness — The Presence of God

February 10th, 2007

This is part of a series. You can read the introduction first or view all the posts together.

This is often mentioned as “the” reason we should want to go the Heaven. And yet it’s also a reason that is completely meaningless to the lost person and also to our sinful “flesh.” I think it’s a fair observation that most people, given the choice between streets of gold or being with God, would get more excited about the former, albeit in ignorance. And frankly, even though I “know” which of the two is the real reward, the fact is still that the idea of being in the presence of God for eternity doesn’t always excite me as much as it should.

So in this entry, my aim is to cultivate excitement in my heart about the idea of being with God forever.

In Psalm 16:8-11 (an absolutely beautiful psalm, by the way), David (or, prophetically speaking, Christ) writes of his experience in the presence of God. The last line bears repeating–”in Your presence there is fullness of joy; at Your right hand are pleasures evermore.” That is the simple reality of the presence of God.

Fullness here is a Hebrew word which means literally “satisfaction.” In God’s presence there is a satisfaction of joy. I think that’s a worthwhile distinction to make; telling someone that there’s a banquet in the next room that’s full of food is very different from telling someone that there’s a banquet that will completely and perfectly satisfy their hunger. Inasmuch as we can understand the concept of “joy,” we should understand that God’s presence represents the absolute ultimate in the experience–in God’s presence, our joy skyrockets to become so immeasurably full that we can’t even think of wanting any more. It makes me think of those moments when, humanly speaking, I think I’m perfectly satisfied and “all is right with the world,” and yet if I dwell on that thought long enough, I can always think of something that could be a little more perfect. But in God’s presence, joy itself is complete and lacking nothing.

Joy itself can be a recondite concept. In various Hebrew-English dictionaries, the word used in this passage is defined as blithesomeness, glee, mirth, gaiety, gladness, making merry, and pleasure. It occurs ninety-three times in the Old Testament. It’s used in Judges 16:23 to describe the way the Philistines rejoiced to find Samson delivered into their hand; in 1 Samuel 18:6, the way the women of the cities came out singing, dancing, and playing music to rejoice in the defeat of the Philistines; in 1 Kings 1:40, the reaction of the people to the crowning of King Solomon; in Ezra 3:12, the way the old men who had seen the first temple rejoiced when the foundation of the new one was laid; in Proverbs 15:21, “folly is joy” to the unwise man; in Proverbs 21:17, the one who loves pleasure shall be poor; and in Song of Solomon 3:11, Solomon’s wedding day is called “the day of the gladness of his heart.” I’m going into all of these examples because the distinction between “joy” and “happiness” is a tricky one, and perhaps over-emphasized. I find it easy to start thinking of “joy” in somewhat dreary terms, as something that doesn’t necessarily feel good, but rather is a sort of resignation and acceptance that God is sovereign and good and that He knows what’s going on, and the idea that that is sufficient. And there’s a sense, I think, in which that’s true (minus the dreariness!)–our joy in Christ certainly isn’t founded in the moment, but in eternity. And the joy we are called to have in the midst of suffering surely cannot mean that we must be all laughter and no tears.

But I think that to completely disassociate “joy” from emotions and, yes, happiness, is a mistake. In the passages above, Scripture uses the word to refer to very momentary things. Sometimes we see non-believers experiencing joy, as in the case of the Philistines; sometimes we see joy being used sinfully, as to the unwise man in Proverbs. In other words, at least in the way this specific word is used in the Old Testament, it seems to mean, in a primary sense, an emotion. So, when we learn in Psalms 16 that in God’s presence there is satisfaction of joy, it means more than just that we’ll be perfect and so we’re going to be “joyful in God’s plan.” It means that as the Israelites felt joy in victory over their enemies, as Solomon felt joy on his wedding day, as people felt joy as their beloved temple from their childhood was rebuilt, and as the fool takes joy in his folly, in God’s presence there is joy! Joy that makes you dance and sing and be merry, joy that makes our hearts light–this is not a boring or obligatory joy, but a real and present emotive joy!

Pleasures evermore is a somewhat misleading translation, I think; the word means more “delight” or “pleasant” than “pleasures,” and the words carry very different connotations, at least in my mind. The word seems most often to refer to people, situations, or music being pleasant, as in 2 Samuel 1:23 Samuel 23:1, Psalm 81:2, Psalm 133:1, Proverbs 24:4, and Song of Solomon 1:16. I can’t read Hebrew, obviously, but I don’t believe that this means that God’s presence is surrounded with “pleasures” so much as it means that God’s presence is eminently sweet, pleasant, and delightful. (I’m somewhat confused, because the word seems to be an adjective, but the translation clearly makes it into a noun, which really changes the sense altogether. Notably it’s also translated as a noun in Job 36:11, but it seems to be adjectival nearly everywhere else.) The word for “evermore” can be translated as eminence, perpetuity, strength, victory, enduring, and everlastingness.

So, in addition to containing the satisfaction of felt joy, God’s presence is also enduringly sweet. I find that very comforting, in view of the fact that I think being in God’s presence would also be a little scary. It’s like that oft-quoted passage from The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe, when the children ask “is He safe?” and the beavers respond, “no, but He’s good!” Yet even though He is the God of the universe, almighty and omnipotent, and although He does as He pleases and created the world in a breath–even though if there was anyone Who is intimidatingly great and awesome, it is surely God–His presence is pleasant. His presence is sweet. His presence is delightful. It’s a wonderful thing to be in the presence of God!

And so, just from this one verse from David’s pen, the presence of God is so unbelievably enticing that I’d like to pack my bags right now! God is so gracious.

Cultivating Heavenwardness — Sanctification

February 9th, 2007

This is part of a series. You can read the introduction first or view all the posts together.

This is an expansion of part of yesterday’s post more than a truly new point. But it occurred to me today that rejoicing in the tangible benefits of being a new creation (yesterday’s post) and rejoicing in the One who makes us new creations (today’s) aren’t identical concepts, and I wanted to linger over the latter concept before moving on. More specifically–rejoicing in the culmination of the sanctification process and in the Sanctifier.

Scripture is very clear that God is now in the process of sanctifying us ([bible]2 Thessalonians 2:13[/bible], [bible]1 Peter 1:2[/bible]), conforming us to His likeness ([bible]Romans 8:29[/bible]); making us holy ([bible]1 Thessalonians 4:7[/bible]). The Greek word for sanctification is hagiasmos, from hagiazo, which carries both the sense of acknowledging something to be holy (i.e., “hallowed [hagiazo] be Thy name”) and the sense of actually making something holy, by purification and separation.

The word “sanctified” makes me think of a pile of grain, where God’s going through and pulling out all the pebbles and leaving the wheat. Scripture makes it clear that sanctification is connected to salvation (”God chose you as the firstfruits to be saved, through sanctification by the Spirit and belief in the truth,” 2 Thes. 2:13, above), and on one level, it seems like that’s where the real “journey” of life is–we begin as completely lost in sin ([bible]Ephesians 2:1-3[/bible]), and God gradually transforms us through the renewing of our minds ([bible]Romans 12:2[/bible], [bible]Ephesians 4:21-24[/bible]) until finally, in heaven, our sanctification is complete ([bible]Philippians 3:21[/bible], [bible]1 John 3:2[/bible]).

And the sanctifying process is all God. Of ourselves, none of us do good ([bible]Psalm 53:2-3[/bible]). Scripture uses the word dead: dead people don’t do anything! But God, through His mercy and grace, makes us alive ([bible]Ephesians 2:4-5[/bible]) and conforms us to Christ. This is all now, before we die–God works in our hearts.

In heaven, the process of getting rid of the “old tent” involves God completing that process. I love how everything in Scripture points to us still being individuals in Heaven–instead of getting cookie-cutter identical new bodies, God renews our old ([bible]Romans 8:23[/bible]), somehow making us perfectly in His image without losing us in the process. Another mystery of heaven that I don’t really comprehend! Nevertheless–I’ve tasted the joy of sanctification here on earth; I’ve seen little things in me that God has graciously (and sometimes painfully!) corrected, and it is delight to the soul. The idea that the process will be (painlessly!) culminated in heaven is intoxicating. It’s like someone who’s eaten little bits of chocolate being told that they’re going to a complimentary chocolate buffet (except multiplied an infinite number of times because comparing chocolate to sanctification really doesn’t make sense on the scale of joy). Heaven’s a buffet of sanctification!

In my study today, I came across this poem, which goes very well with the subject.

Cultivating Heavenwardness — This Old Tent

February 8th, 2007

This is part of a series. You can read the introduction first or view all the posts together.

2 Corinthians 4 and 5 offer immense comfort in the midst of earthly suffering, and have been very near to my heart over the past ten months. I had taught on the passage to a small group of high school girls a few years ago, which seared it into my mind almost the point of memory–and as it has come to possess so much more immediacy to me now, I am amazed at how God provided for my then-future need of encouragement so far ahead of time! It never fails to astonish me when I see how something I thought was relatively insignificant at the time turns out to be a really major thing God was doing for the future. How awesome God is!

In reference to my seventh reason for wanting to go to heaven, i.e., “This Old Tent,” three verses from chapter five are most obvious:[bibleblock]2 Corinthians 5:2-4[/bibleblock]”This tent,” in context, refers to our bodies. Our fallen bodies. And in them we are groaning and waiting for the “redemption of our bodies” ([bible]Romans 8:23[/bible]). I think there are at least two dimensions to this–that which Paul expounds in 2 Corinthians 4, which seems to speak quite clearly (if not exclusively) of physical suffering due to being in an earthly body, i.e. persecution, also “wasting away,” which strikes a chord, I think, with anyone who’s aware of the fact that they’re dying, be it of disease or old age; and spiritual suffering due to being in an earthly body, as Paul expounds in Romans 7 and 8, for instance in 7:18, “For I know that nothing good dwells in me, that is, in my flesh. For I have the desire to do what is right, but not the ability to carry it out.”

In Heaven, we will be clothed in heavenly bodies–”our heavenly dwelling,” to quote the verse above. I love way Paul uses his vocabulary here–the word translated as “tent” means hut or temporary residence; the word translated “dwelling” means architecture or structure. From the very beginning, these bodies we’re living in weren’t built to be our permanent home! It’s easy to forget that and get upset when the roof starts to leak. The reality, though, is that when our little tents get too worn down to be usable shelters anymore, we get to move into real houses! I think that if we looked at life as a camping trip, we’d be rejoicing when our tents started to show signs of wear and tear–because with every new sign of deterioration, we’re one step closer to getting some seriously superior structure to live in.

The other side of this, of course, is that in heaven we won’t be contending with the flesh anymore. Physically speaking, we won’t have tiredness battling with our desire to worship God in the morning, we won’t have our bodies’ faulty chemistry enticing us to depressed periods, and we won’t ever fall asleep in church! And spiritually speaking, our “body of death” ([bible]Romans 7:24[/bible]) which still holds us “captive to the law of sin” ([bible]Romans 7:23[/bible]) is going to be gone forever! [bible]1 John 3:2[/bible] says that when Christ “appears, we shall be like him”! [bible]1 Corinthians 15:51-52[/bible] says that “we shall all be changed, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye.” [bible]Philippians 3:21[/bible] says that Christ “will transform our lowly body to be like his glorious body.” Our sin nature will be gone.

I can’t adequately understand the magnitude of that thought. No more sin. No more inclination to sin. We’re all born sinners, and God by His grace creates new hearts within us–but still none of us alive know what it’s like to be freed of our fallen flesh. But in heaven, we’ll know fully!

How His kindness yet pursues me
Mortal tongue can never tell,
Clothed in flesh, till death shall loose me
I cannot proclaim it well.

O that day when freed from sinning,
I shall see Thy lovely face;
Clothed then in blood washed linen
How I’ll sing Thy sovereign grace!

[from “Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing”]

Cultivating Heavenwardness — World Weariness

February 7th, 2007

This is part of a series. You can read the introduction first or view all the posts together.

One of the bigger duh moments in my life came when I stumbled upon [bible]Galatians 6:9[/bible]: “And let us not grow weary of doing good…” Growing weary in well-doing is an easy thing here. It’s heart-wrenching when we pour our lives into a person in evangelism, only to have that person walk away and never come to Christ, and discouraging when we put time and money into a mercy ministry only to have someone tear it down. Yes, even here on earth, we are commanded not to grow weary, because we know what’s to come, but still–weariness tempts us. We’re not where we belong, and a lost world can be very unconducive to our joy if we get caught up in it.

So there’s a sense in which world-weariness comes easily, especially when we’re engrossed in “doing good” and the fallen things we deal with here keep getting in the way. But there’s another kind of world-weariness that seems to come not so easily.[bibleblock]1 John 2:15-17[/bibleblock]Desires of the flesh, desires of the eyes; pride in possessions: all will be gone. If those are the things we’re setting our sights on, even temporarily, we will be horrified at the prospect of heaven, because heaven means that the worldly things are passed away. Part of cultivating heavenwardness, then, is examining my heart closely and, with God’s grace, eliminating the parts that want bits and pieces of this world to keep.

Another aspect of world-weariness that heaven will free us from is witnessing the rebellion of the unrighteous.[bibleblock]Romans 1:28-32[/bibleblock]Is it possible to read that passage without cringing? That’s the reality of life without God, and that’s what we witness all around us every day, knowing all the while how utterly offensive sin is to God. But in heaven, we won’t have to witness that anymore. Everyone and everything will acknowledge and worship God in spirit and in truth!

As we grow more and more consumed with awareness of how repugnant fallenness really is, then the delight of heaven will become that much more dear, because there is no world to grow weary of there!

Cultivating Heavenwardness — My Faith Shall Be Sight

February 6th, 2007

This is part of a series. You can read the introduction first or view all the posts together.

And Lord, haste the day when my faith shall be sight,
The clouds be rolled back as a scroll;
The trump shall resound, and the Lord shall descend,
Even so, it is well with my soul.

Thus goes my favorite verse from one of my favorite hymns, and the source for today’s title. (By the way–if you don’t know the story behind that hymn, it’s worth reading.)

After the last entry, I hope it doesn’t sound contradictory for me to say that I want to go to heaven so that my faith shall be sight! Hebrews 11:1 is the ever-famous “faith verse”: “Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.” In other words, faith is, by very definition, not-yet-fulfilled. 1 Corinthians 5:6b-7a makes this explicit: “We know that while we are at home in the body we are away from the Lord, for we walk by faith, not by sight.” We aren’t walking by sight yet. But the verse in Hebrews doesn’t say “Now faith is something we hope for, the desire of things not seen” — instead it uses words like assurance (in the Greek, literally, a “setting under”, i.e. a support) and conviction (also translated proof, or evidence; the only other occurrence of the word is in [bible]2 Timothy 3:16[/bible], “All Scripture is…profitable…for reproof“). Faith, then, is that which enables us to “know” the things we don’t “know.”

There’s a common youth-group-type illustration that says faith is what you have in the instant before you sit on a chair: you have faith that the chair will hold you. Honestly, I think that definition comes a little short–because you don’t know that the chair will hold, you just assume that it will (and even that assumption is based on external evidence and personal experience). Faith, according to Hebrews, is much stronger than that. Faith assures. Faith convicts. In Ephesians 3:12, Paul explains that through our faith in Christ, “we have boldness and access with confidence.”

Faith is sufficient for action. But our faith here is not at its maximum: we can grow in our faith ([bible]2 Timothy 2:22[/bible], [bible]2 Thessalonians 1:3[/bible]).

In heaven, those things we hope for will be! And those things we have not seen will be seen! As Paul writes in 1 Corinthians 13:10,12: “When the perfect comes, the partial will pass away… Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I have been fully known.” We’ll be with the Lord, and we’ll be walking by sight! Our faith will be perfected.

Strong’s Greek Dictionary translates pistos (faith) as “objectively trustworthy,” which fits perfectly with Hebrews 11 and with the observation that God Himself is faithful–faith is that which convinces us that the things we haven’t yet seen are trustworthy, and clearly God is Himself the epitome of trustworthiness. In heaven, then, we have another cause to rejoice, not only in the perfecting of our own faith, but in the faithfulness of God! We will at last observe that the truths He makes known to our hearts now through the Holy Spirit and through Scripture are true… we will observe through all eternity how trustworthy our God has been to us!

Cultivating Heavenwardness — To See Jesus

February 2nd, 2007

This is part of a series. You can read the introduction first or view all the posts together.

One of the passages in the Bible that I’ve always struggled with, not theologically so much as emotionally, is where Thomas sees the resurrected Christ:[bibleblock]John 20:24-29[/bibleblock]The last verse refers to us, of course, and so it ought to be comforting… but how many times do we fall into the fallacy of thinking that if only I could see with my own eyes, I would believe? Not necessarily salvation-wise, but maybe thinking that if Jesus was sitting here next to me, I would automatically do something differently. I remember the summer that I went to camp, we had a big powwow and one of the counselors told this story about Jesus coming to visit at a person’s house, in person, and it totally revolutionized the person’s life. The idea was for us to visualize being in that situation ourselves and see “what books we’d be ashamed to have on our shelves,” so to speak.

I’ve come to the conclusion, though, that if Christ came to my house and stayed a while… I’d still be a sinner. Maybe even things wouldn’t be very much different. Just consider the disciples: they saw Christ every day and they still managed to screw stuff up. Peter was face to face with Christ when he decided the wind was more fearsome than Christ was able ([bible]Matthew 14:28-31[/bible]). I don’t see how my eyes, which are so easily deceived anyway, would do a better job of convincing me of the reality of Christ than the Spirit of God working in my heart does. So when I say, “I want to go to heaven so I can see Jesus,” I don’t mean so that I’ll know “for sure” that He’s real. Seeing Jesus is an end in itself.

When I read the Thomas passage, it, more earnestly than any other passage in Scripture, makes me long to see my Savior. That’s explicitly what Thomas was doing; it’s the whole point, the reason for the exchange. And oh how badly I want to be in that situation as well! The very idea takes my breath away. I know beyond a doubt that I was created to worship God, if for no other reason than the vehemence of the emotional reaction the idea of actually seeing Him causes within me. It isn’t “rational,” from the world’s perspective, to experience an intense longing to meet someone we’ve never “met,” but there it is. “For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face.” Can we read those words without intense excitement stirring in our hearts?

And in heaven, that anticipation will be fulfilled: we’ll see Christ! In person! I’m going to see my Redeemer face-to-face at last! [bible]1 John 3:2[/bible] says “we shall see Him as He is”! As He is. Is there anything more amazing?