Fight the Good Fight of the Faith: The LORD is Victorious

As we continue our way through the book of Joshua, we come to ch. 10, and, as I mentioned in the previous post, after this passage, we will skip ahead at "warp speed," covering twelve chapters of material in two posts: last Friday's and next's.In this story, we learn something important about the Christian life: God is always victorious, but sometimes His plan of achieving victory is quite peculiar.

If you have read much about Church history, you have probably read about the great persecutions of the Church in the first few centuries AD. There are many, many stories of the brutality that Christians endured, but in my opinion, one, in particular, stands out. During the reign of Marcus Aurelius in Rome, persecution was not yet empire-wide, but it was quite heavy in certain areas. One of those areas was Gaul (the geographic region that would later become France). From that area, the church historian Eusebius recounts the story of a slave girl named Blandina, who suffered unthinkable tortures over the course of several days because she would not deny Christ. Eusebius reports:

Blandina was filled with such power, that those who tortured her one after the other in every way from morning till evening were wearied and tired, confessing that they had been baffled, for they had no other torture they could apply to her; and they were astonished that she remained in life, when her whole body was torn and opened up, and they gave their testimony that one only of the modes of torture employed was sufficient to have deprived her of life, not to speak of so many excruciating inflictions.

He goes on to describe how Blandina was next thrown to the beasts in the arena, along with a boy, whom she encouraged to remain faithful to his death. Finally, Eusebius says, “And, after the scourging, after the wild beasts, after the roasting seat, she was finally enclosed in a net, and thrown before a bull,” and that is how she died.

We might look at that and think, “Is that really worth it? What good does enduring that suffering bring? Wouldn’t Christ’s blood cover her if she gave in?” Absolutely, for Christ’s blood covers all our sins, but Blandina’s suffering was worth it, for Eusebius tells us that several of her tortures turned to Christ after they saw her unwavering hope in the gospel. And, who knows how many more thousands of pagans came to Christ because of how Christians, like Blandina, showed them hope in suffering. This is why Tertullian said, “The blood of the martyrs is the seed of the Church.” God used their hope in suffering to draw those who assaulted them to Himself. And, while that plan of God seems quite strange to us, His victory was complete. William Durant writes in his 11-volume work The Story of Civilization:

There is no greater drama in human record than the sight of a few Christians scorned or oppressed by a succession of emperors, bearing all trials by a fierce tenacity, multiplying quietly, building order while their enemies generated chaos, fighting the sword with the Word, brutality with hope, and at last defeating the strongest state that history has ever known. Caesar and Christ had met in the arena and Christ had won.

God’s plan may have been strange and His methods foolishness to the watching world, but they worked and His victory was complete: the Roman Empire died but the Christian Church continued to grow.

As remarkable as it is, that basic story is not unique in the history of God’s people. In fact, it is really quite common. We see it in our episode of Joshua for today, and, as we talk along the way, we will see it in our own lives. Again, this is why this book is so applicable to our lives today: It is a story of God’s redeemed people having to fight by faith in God who truly fights the battles for them, using God’s ways to possess rest in the Promised Land, which is exactly a mirror of our lives today, although spiritually; not physically.

If you want to hear more, you can listen to the sermon here or read the transcript here.

I pray that God will use it to magnify His glory in your heart and fortify you for the battles of this Christian life.

By His Grace,
Taylor

Fight the Good Fight of the Faith: Folly and Faithfulness

In the previous post, we talked about some highlights from ch. 8, which finishes off the episode that began with Achan's sin and Israel's defeat as a result. With the sermon in today's post, we continue forward through the book of Joshua with Jos. 9, and we are going to look at the effects of human folly on the battles of the Christian life, and yet, in the wake of that foolishness, we also see God’s glory and redemptive nature in how He handles our folly.

In the last sermon, the Israelites were taught a hard lesson: They had already grown spiritually lazy—the great victory over Jericho had left them thinking that they had God in their proverbial “back pocket”—and within that context, one man thought his sin would not make a difference, so he stole from God. Yet, his sin had implications that affected the whole nation and nearly derailed, at least from a human perspective, the fulfillment of God’s promises in the land of Canaan. The failure of the whole people had found its focus in the sin one individual, and it nearly cost that generation the Promised Land. So, after they finally defeated Ai in ch. 8, they renewed the covenant—they had become spiritually lazy and so they needed to wake themselves up by renewing their minds in the covenant God made with them. And, after that, if we were reading this book for the first time, we would probably think they had learned their lesson, but then we get to ch. 9.

When we read ch. 9, we might be tempted to scoff at them and think, “Seriously? You just renewed the covenant and didn’t learn your lesson?” Yet, if we slow down and take a look at our own hearts, we will not judge the Israelites too quickly. How often do we say to ourselves after repeating an old sinful pattern, “When am I going to learn! What’s wrong with me? Why do I keep doing this?” In fact, this episode might be a tragic comedy, if it didn’t hit so close to home—if we weren’t able to read and say, “I do the same thing.” But, this episode also shows us the faithfulness of God and the power of His sovereignty in an amazing way, which will point our eyes back to Christ to say, “I’m such a great and foolish sinner, but I have a gracious, wise, and powerful Savior!”

Unfortunately, a technical issue kept this sermon from being recorded when I preached it back in the summer, but you can still read the transcript here, if you like.

I pray that God will use it to magnify His glory in your heart and fortify you for the battles of this Christian life.

By His Grace,
Taylor

Fight the Good Fight of the Faith: Holy War and the Gospel

First, let me apologize for taking a couple of weeks to continue this series. I had meant to post these devotionals and sermons once a week, but the past couple of weeks have been really busy for my family and I. However, we are back in the swing of things now, and so here is the next devotional, with the next sermon coming on Sunday.

As I have alluded to a few times throughout this series so far, there are some difficult issues that come up in the book of Joshua that often get attention in from Christians and non-Christians alike. Well, the one that Joshua 6 brings up is probably the biggest: holy war. In the episode we will consider on Sunday, God commands that all living things be killed in Jericho, and v. 21 tells us, "Then they devoted all in the city to destruction, both men and women, young and old, oxen, sheep, and donkeys, with the edge of the sword." This is simply a result of the commands God gave to them in the book of Deuteronomy, like 7:1-2:

When the Lord your God brings you into the land that you are entering to take possession of it, and clears away many nations before you, the Hittites, the Girgashites, the Amorites, the Canaanites, the Perizzites, the Hivites, and the Jebusites, seven nations more numerous and mightier than you, and when the Lord your God gives them over to you, and you defeat them, then you must devote them to complete destruction. You shall make no covenant with them and show no mercy to them.

This should bother us or at the very least make us pause when we read that, and we need to know how to think about it within the whole context of Scripture and what it teaches us about God.

So, what about the "holy war"? How does "show no mercy to them" square with Jesus' teaching about loving our enemies? Well, I want to argue that most often our main hangup here is that we do not have a high enough view of God's holiness. As Christians, we have encountered the grace of God in Jesus, which allows us to enter into God’s holy presence with boldness (He. 10:19-25), because of the promise that we are being remade after the pattern of that same holiness. But, in that grace, we may sometimes forget what holiness looks like to someone who is not so covered by Christ. And, non-Christians, generally do not have a very high or realistic view of sin, thinking of God more as a "smiling grandfather" than a holy, upright, perfect, and just God. However, both those views of God are not true to His being.

God is supremely holy, which means He cannot abide sin without a response. God is a consuming fire (He. 12:29), a purifying power that cannot abide the unholy to remain in His presence without destroying it. God, however, is also a gracious God who does not desire the complete destruction of the works of His hands (cf. Eze. 18:32)--who holds back the consuming fire like a dam holds back a flood. (For more on this balance, see this excellent article by John Piper.) With that tension in mind, I think the conquest of Canaan is best understood as a profound and temporary in-breaking of God’s holiness into an unholy world for a specific redemptive purpose. Let me explain.

In creation, God created the world and humans holy--in perfect communion with Him. Yet, we fell from that holiness and therefore incurred the wrath of the holy God. God's holiness consumes unholiness just as light consumes darkness, and that is what we all deserve in our natural state. Only God can hold back the consumption for a time. And, at the fall of Adam and Eve, God, in His grace, temporarily suspended His full wrath until the day of Final Judgment (cf. Mt. 25:31ff), otherwise Adam and Eve would have been judged and sent to hell on the spot. So, common grace--God's forbearance of final judgment--became a part of the world in which we live.

This has bearing on the conquest of the Promised Land (henceforth referred to as "the Conquest"). The ethics of the Conquest are ultimately those of a completely holy and good God calling the rebellious people, the illegal aliens on His property into account for their sins. And, since the Fall affects all of us as equally as it affected the Canaanites, the implication is that we all deserve, always and everywhere, what they got then and there in Canaan from the Israelite armies. In light of this reality, we must admit that the sheer fact that the Conquest was confined to only one very geographically limited area at only one point in human history is a sign of God’s mercy.

What? A sign of mercy? Yes: one of the purposes of the Conquest is for us to see what must be the inevitable result of our natural standing with God as the sinful human race. Without Christ, we all deserve what they received. The ethics of the Conquest can be seen as a type of what is called "intrusion ethics" (a term coined by Meredith Kline)—a temporary intrusion into history of the ethics of the Final Judgment, i.e. that moment when God finally brings the created order to account so that He can judge all evil and create the new heavens and new earth. That is to say, the Conquest reveals in history, however briefly, what the end of history will look like when Jesus returns in glory to reclaim in total His land and create the true Promised Land.

As we talked about in the devotional a couple of weeks ago, this is an Old Testament type. A type is a real person, place, event, or object that God ordained to act as a visible pattern of Jesus' person (who He is) and/or work (what He does). Just as the OT Promised Land (a type) ultimately points to the true Promised Land--new heavens and the new earth; just as Joshua is a type of Jesus Himself, the Conquest (another type) points to the judgment where God ultimately judges and punishes evil through Jesus as the Judge (2 Pt. 3:10)--the punishment He stayed/delayed at the Fall--and creates the new heavens and the new earth (the true Promised Land). One purpose of seeing such a thing in history is, therefore, to bring mankind to repentance, so that we might be spared that fate when the Day arrives. Not only will God have given humanity the whole of their history of time to turn back to Him, He will have also made it abundantly clear by the Conquest what is to come. But, still many "stiffen their necks" against Him.

All of this has profound ramifications for how we square the goodness of God, as we have encountered it in Jesus, with the severity of God, as we see it in the Conquest. In many respects, they are two sides of the same coin. They both show the extreme lengths to which God must go in order to get humanity's attention. The sad history of Jesus' rejection by His own people only reinforces the point that humankind's fallen hearts are so hardened that we do not respond to God, even when He comes in meekness. Such a sorry state of affairs, such a clear example of our rebellion, makes the extreme ethics of the Conquest seem all the more justified. Further, it illustrates with vivid clarity how, in not getting always and everywhere what the Canaanites got then and there, humanity as a whole has seen merciful forbearance (common grace) on God’s part.

And, we also need to note that God's use of the Israelites of the instrument of His judgment was not because of their goodness. In fact, this is explicitly laid out in Dt. 9:4-5:

“Do not say in your heart, after the Lord your God has thrust them out before you, ‘It is because of my righteousness that the Lord has brought me in to possess this land,’ whereas it is because of the wickedness of these nations that the Lord is driving them out before you. Not because of your righteousness or the uprightness of your heart are you going in to possess their land, but because of the wickedness of these nations the Lord your God is driving them out from before you, and that he may confirm the word that the Lord swore to your fathers, to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob.

God chose the Israelites (and us) simply because of His unmerited, free grace. The Israelites were very wicked and just as deserving of judgment as the Canaanites, just like all mankind is without Jesus. One commentator explains:

Hence Israel must not assume a holier-than-you-all attitude, for Yahweh will not bring his people into the land because they are righteous and deserving; ‘it is because of the wickedness of these nations that Yahweh is driving them out before you’ (Deut. 9:4–5). The conquest is not a bunch of land-hungry marauders wiping out, at the behest of their vicious God, hundreds of innocent, God-fearing folks. In the biblical view, the God of the Bible uses none-too-righteous Israel as the instrument of his just judgment on a people who had persistently reveled in their iniquity.

God, in His sovereignty, chose to satisfy His holy wrath against the Canaanites by judgment and against the Israelites by redemption (cf. Ro. 9:14-21).

Perhaps a typological chart would be helpful when thinking about OT types and the true, spiritual reality in Christ to which they point:

Old Testament Type	True, Spiritual Reality in Christ
The Exodus	Christ’s redemption
The wilderness wandering	This present life
The Promised Land	The new heavens and the new earth
The conquest of the Land	The Final Judgment
King David	King Jesus
Solomon’s kingdom	Jesus’ rule in the new heavens and the new earth

Before I end this discussion, though, there is one more intrusion ethic that we need to mention: the cross of Christ. Just as the Conquest was a temporary in-breaking of God's final-judgment, holy wrath into history, so was the cross, but in this case, God's final-judgment, holy wrath fell not on the culpable human race that deserves His wrath but on His perfect, innocent Son. Christ did not deserve anything but full reward from God, and yet, on the cross, Jesus took the full wrath of God that He would have poured out on His elect in the Final Judgment. That means that all God's holy wrath against His people has been satisfied. Even though He is completely holy and we do not really even understand the depth of that holiness or our sinfulness in comparison, He has satisfied His holiness by pouring out His wrath on Christ for all His elect. This is how the faithful Israelites and all true Christians avoid what the Canaanites got. We deserve the Final Judgment, but since Christ came into space and time and lived as one of us, since He fulfilled the law perfectly, and since He withstood the intrusion of final judgment on the cross, we can have eternal life in the true Promised Land forever.

So, the Conquest is a sad, hard part of Scripture to read, but it is a perfectly just action of the holy God. Yet, we should not look at it mechanically as that but in two ways: 1) as a warning that causes us to pray for and seek the conversion of the lost so they do not get what the Canaanites did and 2) to praise God for sending Jesus Christ to take the holy wrath that we deserve so that we can live with God forever in the true Promised Land. That should lead us to praise as Paul praised God in Ro. 11:33-36 after he finished detailing out these gospel truths about God:

33 Oh, the depth of the riches and wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are his judgments and how inscrutable his ways!
34 “For who has known the mind of the Lord,
or who has been his counselor?”
35 “Or who has given a gift to him
that he might be repaid?”
36 For from him and through him and to him are all things. To him be glory forever. Amen.

By His Grace,

Taylor

God as Father: Lessons I Learned as a Dad (Part 3)

A few months ago I began a blog series that will be irregular (at best) on lessons I have learned from being a dad about God being our heavenly Father--i.e. what it means for God to be our Father, how that impacts our lives, our relationship with Him as our Father, etc. I have learned quite a bit since I became a dad because the father-child relationship analogy that the Scriptures use has become so much more real to me. Well, recently I have been thinking about another aspect of God's fatherhood and our relationship to Him.

My son Gabriel is almost three now, and that means he is in the stage commonly known as "terrible twos," which should really be "terrible twos and threes or maybe even fours." That means that Gabriel is beginning to understand more and more how he is individual with a will of his own and he is desiring to assert his autonomy more and more. Of course, every parent out there knows what is coming next: tantrums. Gabriel now knows what he wants, knows that he is an individual, and knows he does not want to be told what to do, which means we see a lot of tantrums. This is actually part of their developmental process and is a good sign in the grand scheme of mental and emotional development, though it sometimes feels like hell on earth for parents.

This past weekend, for example, we took him to two Halloween activities in our city on Saturday, and at both there was lots of candy, which is what one would expect. Well, we, of course, try to limit his sugar intake, but depending on the day and activity, we might bend the rules a little and let him have more than he normally would. And, we did that Saturday, letting him have a little more candy than normally we would. That, however, was not enough. At a local church's festivities, we cut off the candy because he had had more than enough and we were about to go home and have dinner, and all of a sudden his world went from being loads of fun to a tragedy that in his mind would rival Oedipus' discovery that the oracle at Delphi had been right all along. And, while he did not attempt to gouge out his eyes, the screaming and crying certainly made it sound like he had.

Such tantrums are common in our life right now, and my "gut" responses vary. Sometimes the tantrums are so over-the-top ridiculous that it is all I can do not to laugh. Often they are frustrating, trying my patience to its limits. Most of the time there is mixed in with other emotions a sense of loving pity--pity because he does not understand all the things involved in denying what he thinks he needs, pity because I do not like seeing him sad, pity because I am trying to do what is best for him and he does not understand, pity because his immaturity is making him overreact. Lately these tantrums have also been humbling for me personally, which may seem like an odd response, but allow me to explain.

In my prayer life, there are times when I "vent" to God about things going on and my opinion of how my life is going. Now, those types of prayers are not necessarily bad or sinful because He wants to know what is on our hearts and He knows them anyway. And, certainly honesty with God in our prayer lives is something we need to develop. But, there are times where my "venting" is really just a "grownup" way of describing a tantrum. When I look at Gabriel with pity while in the midst of a tantrum, lately I have thought, "God, is this what I look like to You when I vent in my prayers? Do I look like a child rolling on the ground screaming because I did not get my way?" I am pretty sure I know the answer to those questions, and I do not like it.

I think that is probably the case much of the time. Even though I might veil it in "grownup" language and might not be screaming while rolling on the floor, sometimes it is about the same thing--I am upset because I cannot understand why God is not doing something the way I think that it should be done, and I doing whatever it takes to convince Him that my way is better. It may not involve stomping and screaming, but it is not really any better than a tantrum. Yet, at the same time, when I think, "God, is this what I look like?" I also think "Wow, you are so patient, kind, and loving to me to put up with this." With a toddler, we can cut him some slack because he has not learned how to deal with his emotions properly, but I have no such excuses. And, yet, if I--a sinner and sub-par father--respond with loving pity, how much more does God as my heavenly Father do that for me?

If I am moved with pity because Gabriel does not understand all the things involved in denying what he thinks he needs, then how much more is that true of God? The gap between God's knowledge and my own is far greater than the gap between my knowledge and Gabriel's--I am much less than a toddler in my knowledge compared to God. As the LORD says in Isaiah, "For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts." If I am moved with pity because I do not like to see Gabriel hurt, how much more is that true of my heavenly Father who loves me perfectly? Of course, just like I know it is sometimes necessary for Gabriel to experience disappointment for his own good, so He knows that sometimes it is necessary for His good plan for me. Yet, even though it is necessary, it does not mean He does not experience fatherly sympathy for His confused and hurting child. If I am moved with pity because Gabriel does not understand that I am trying to do what is best for him, how much more is that true of my heavenly Father who always works all things for my good? My wisdom (as limited as it is) far exceeds Gabriel's, and, indeed, Gabriel would not throw a tantrum if he knew what I knew. Well, the same can be said of us. God's wisdom far, far, far exceeds our own, and God always answers our prayers in the way we would have them answered if we knew everything He knew and were as wise as Him. But, just as Gabriel does not understand because his knowledge and wisdom are limited, so I do not understand because my knowledge and wisdom are limited. So, my heavenly Father looks upon me with loving pity and says, "My child, you do not understand, but please trust me, for I love you more than you love your own son." And, if I am moved with pity for Gabriel because his immaturity causes him to overreact, how much more is that true of our loving and understanding heavenly Father? Immaturity does not, of course, excuse Gabriel's reaction and neither does it excuse my "grownup" tantrums, but it does move me to fatherly compassion for my son, and I think the same is true of our heavenly Father.

At the end of the day, I still need to do what is best for Gabriel, as God does for me, but thinking about how much I--a very imperfect father--am moved with love, compassion, and pity for my son makes me so thankful for my heavenly Father who is the perfect Father. If I can respond in love and compassion to my son, most certainly God does to me. Even when I throw a tantrum, He looks upon me with fatherly love because He has adopted me and loved me perfectly in Christ.

There is, of course, another side to this: how I would like Gabriel to respond. I know Gabriel cannot understand many of the decisions Erika and I make concerning him, but I would like him to respond by saying, "You know dad, I don't get it, but I know you love me, so I trust you." Obviously that is pipe dream for Gabriel. Every day Erika and I care for him, feed him, clothe him, love him, give him experiences, and so much more, but when what he thinks he "needs" is challenged, he forgets all that. He so easily forgets how much love we have shown him, so trust in those times is hard. But, am I really any different when it comes to my relationship to God--my heavenly Father? Throughout my life God has provided for me, proved Himself faithful over and over again, and never let me down, and yet when what I think I "need" is challenged, I forget all that too. I bet my heavenly Father would like me to say, "You know Dad, I don't get it, but I know You love me, so I trust You."

That is what the Psalms do. Do you know what the most common type of psalm in the book of Psalms is? It is not the hymns, the confidence psalms or the wisdom psalms. It is not the thanksgiving psalms or psalms of remembrance. It is the laments. There are more psalms of lament than any other type of psalm. These psalms express intense sadness, suffering, and confusion about life, and there are more of them than any other type. That alone should tell us something about the Christian life: God's people experience real suffering and pain often. But, the psalms of lament have a characteristic to them that keeps them from descending into "grownup" tantrums.

These psalms (e.g. Ps 13, 22, 26, 42-44, 74, 77, 79, 88, 102, 130, 143) almost always follow a very important structure. They begin with an invocation to God for help. Then, there is a complaint section that may lead to a plea for help, confession of sin, or cry for vindication. And, then, most importantly, all but one of them end with confident praise to God. For example, Ps. 13 ends with:

⁵ But I have trusted in your steadfast love;
    my heart shall rejoice in your salvation.
⁶ I will sing to the Lord,
    because he has dealt bountifully with me.

In this psalm, David has not seen any resolution between the beginning and the end, but even when he complains and cries out for God to act, he does not forget what is true about God. Even though it does not feel that way to him, he reminds himself of the truth.

I think we can learn something about how we should pray when confused or in pain from these psalms. It is okay for us to pour out our hearts to God and cry out to Him in pain and confusion. In fact, it is good for us to do so, but when we do that, we must never act arrogantly towards God--thinking we know better--or question His character--accusing Him of wrongdoing. The psalms of lament always ground their complaint in the goodness of God and then come back to that goodness with faith at the end, even when everything in the life of the psalmist seems to testify to the contrary. The psalms of lament combine honest, intense expressions of grief with truthful, biblical, faithful reminders of who God really is.

When we pray and "vent" like that, then we are not throwing a "grownup" tantrum but are doing exactly what we want our children to do: saying, "Dad, I don't get it, but I know You love me, so I trust You." That is a righteous lament; not a toddler tantrum.

By His Grace,
Taylor

The God Who Created Everything

One of my privileges as GCPC's associate pastor is to lead our youth group. I love our youth, and being with them on Sunday nights has become one of the highlights of my week. They are a sharp bunch, who are a joy to teach (and we have a blast playing games together). In our study together, I have been endeavoring to help them become even more solidified in their faith--to take ownership of it for themselves--especially since they are approaching high school and college looms in the not-so-distant future. To that end, we are in a teaching series called "The God Who is There." It's structure and much of its content are based on D. A. Carson's excellent book with the same title: The God Who is There. I have made a number of changes to various parts because of the needs of my youth group and because of some disagreements with Carson. Overall, however, his book is excellent and well-worth your time.

Over the next months (perhaps longer), when I finish a section, I will post some highlights on here, and recently we just finished studying Ge. 1-2 together. Now, there are a lot of directions we could have gone with this creation account, and there are a lot of topics that we could have studied in it. Many of those directions and most those topics can be hotly debated in Christian circles, and I have an opinion on almost all of them that I believe is consistent with Scripture. I suppose we could have spent a lot of time studying the various opinions on those topics and I could have given them mine, but I decided to follow Carson and Francis Schaeffer's advice and narrow the focus. Instead of trying to talk about everything that Ge. 1-2 does or can say, we have focused on what it must say in order for the rest of the Bible to be true and have any intelligibility at all. These chapters set up the rest of Scripture, and there are many doctrines and foundations about God and man established here that are crucial for the rest of the Bible to make any sense at all. We focused on those essential things in our study, and I have left the rest for them to work out with their parents and in their own study.

Focusing on these essentials also gave me the opportunity to teach our youth about giving charity to Christians who disagree with them on non-essential matters. We have talked at length about how these core doctrines are essential foundations in Ge. 1-2 around which all Christians must unite because without them we do not have Christianity at all. We have also talked a lot about how we must give charity to Christians who disagree with us about doctrines that fall outside these essential foundations. Now, that is not to say that we should not have strong opinions about those doctrines. I do, and I have told our youth that I want them to study those topics on their own and with their parents to figure out what they believe regarding them. But, we must not let our opinions divide us from other Christians when those opinions concern non-essential matters. We can have friendly debates about them, but, at the end of the day, we need to stand side-by-side on the core doctrines that Ge. 1-2 must say for the rest of the Bible to be true and give charity to our Christian brothers and sisters on other matters.

Okay, you are probably wondering by now what I believe the core, essential doctrines are. (Here, I have basically followed Carson with only a few minor changes.) There are ten:

1. Ge. 1:1 -- God simply is: The Bible does not begin by trying to prove God's existence. It begins with God, and He is the presuppositional foundation of everything. Our culture today often demands that we prove God exists because it assumes that man the ultimate measure and center of everything. This way of thinking basically started with Rene Descartes: "I think, therefore I am." That is a very man-centered way of thinking. The Bible, on the other hand, would say, "God thinks (and speaks), therefore I am." It puts God at the center of everything, and we see that right from the beginning. Now, I am not trying to say that we should not be able to give good, reasoned arguments for God's existence. We need to meet people where they are when we talk to them about Jesus, but ultimately a Christian does not consider himself to be the measure of everything or the center of anything. God is the measure of all things and at the center of everything.
2. Ge. 1:1 -- God made everything that is not God: This simple truth has a couple of important implications:
1. It means there is an irreducible distinction between the Creator and the creatures. His existence is self-existence and ours is completely derivative of and dependent on Him. Everything in the universe is dependent on God to exist. God, however, does not depend on anything to exist except Himself.
2. It means this universe is not an accident, and it has a purpose. If there is no God, then there is no purpose to this universe and no purpose to our lives. But, if God exists and created the universe, then it has an ultimate purpose and our lives have a purpose in it. Without God there is no meaning to life. With God, there is deep meaning and purpose to life, and He shows us what that is throughout the rest of Scripture.
3. Taking the account as a whole -- There is only one God: Most of the creation myths of the ancient world said that there were many gods that battled for power and the universe was the fallout from those battles. The Bible clearly tells us there were not multiple gods at the beginning vying for power. There is one. The Bible and Christianity are essentially and necessarily monotheistic. Yet, even from the beginning we see hints of a complexity to God. He is the triune God, and we get hints of this complexity even in these first two chapters: "The Spirit hovered..." "Let us make man in our image..."
4. How does God create? What does He do in Ge. 1:28? He speaks. God is a talking God: He spoke to create, and He spoke to man. He is a talking God; not an abstract God. This is important because God is going to speak a lot in the rest of Scripture (indeed, the Bible is God's Word), and He even speaks today through the Bible by the Holy Spirit working in our hearts. The Bible and Christianity have no room for deism or any of its flavors. The Bible presents a very personal God, not one who does not pay any attention to His creation.
5. Ge. 1:31 (and at the end of the other creation days) -- God made everything good because He is good: In its original state, creation was good and perfect because it reflected the goodness and perfection of its Creator. Now, if you were reading the Bible for the first time and you started in Ge. 1, you would look at the world around you and wonder, "What happened?" We get the answer to that question in Ge. 3. That account and the original goodness of God's creation set up the history of redemption that the rest of the Bible records. They set up Jesus' work from Ge. 3:15 onward, which will one day be consummated when He returns to usher in the new heavens and new earth (cf. Re. 21). The path from this beginning in Genesis to the end prophesied in Revelation is the path we will follow as we learn about the God who is there.
6. Ge. 1:26-27 -- God created man distinct from all other creatures and in His image: God made humans in His image, and the account emphasizes the special creation of Adam and Eve far more than any other creature. Humans are creatures and have much in common with the other creatures, but humans were specially created as the image of God, which makes them distinct from all other creatures (even angels), gives them unique dignity, and allows them to relate to God. Furthermore, humans are not an accidental stage or a step in the development of life that is moving to something better. They are the apex of God's creation.
7. Ge. 2:1-3 -- God rested and designated one day in seven for our rest: God rested from His creative activity when He completed it and designated one day in seven to be a day of rest His images. This means that the Lord's Day (the Sabbath) is not just a rule that God gave to sinful people because they needed it as sinners. It means that God wanted man to rest one day in seven even when man was perfect. Rest is important to God. He wants us to work, certainly, and we will talk about that soon, but He also wants us to rest.
8. Ge. 1:28; 2:15 -- God made man to work: God made man to work and have dominion, which reflects His work and dominion (albeit, derivatively) and makes man His stewards in this world. Work is not a curse. Work is part of how God created us in the first place. The reason our work is so frustrating and sometimes feels like a curse now, is because of sin and the fall. But, work itself is good. When we work, so long as our work does not violate God's commands, we are doing what we were designed to do, and it is glorifying to Him.
9. Ge. 1:27; 2:24 -- God made humans male and female: God made humans male and female, and God designed them for each other--nothing in this world can complete a man like a woman and nothing in this world can complete a woman like a man. They are different, yet complementary, and we cannot ignore either of those without breaking down human culture. Furthermore, when they come together in a marriage union, they become one flesh--a new unit--which sets up the Bible's view of marriage, the family, and even how we understand Christ's relationship to the Church (cf. Eph. 5:22ff).
10. Ge. 2:25 -- God created humans perfect: God created humans perfect, innocent, and in harmony with Him and the rest of creation. This "naked" does not just mean they had no clothes on. It means they had nothing at all to hide. They were completely innocent. What would it be like never to have told a lie, had a lustful thought, committed idolatry, or committed any other sin? We cannot imagine such innocence, and it is our lack of innocence that causes us to hide who we really are from almost everyone (if not everyone). Adam and Eve, in their original state, knew none of that. They were completely innocent, and therefore could be naked (emotionally, mentally, spiritually, and physically) and unashamed before each other. The rest of the Bible describes God's work of redemption that is relentlessly pushing towards a time when His people will be in that state if innocence again in the new heavens and new earth (cf. Re. 21-22).

There you have it. Those are what I believe (again, mostly agreeing with Carson) to be the core essentials of Ge. 1-2 around which Christians must unite and without which the rest of the Bible is unintelligible. Do you agree? Is there anything you would say I am missing?

By His Grace,

Taylor

A Tragic Option

"Make no mistake, the problem of evil is not just a problem for Christianity--it is a problem for all worldviews because evil is fundamental to our human experience. If any worldview is to be considered plausible it must provide us with the intellectual and existential resources to deal with this issue." ~ Brett Kunkle from Stand to Reason

Yesterday Americans saw another example of the problem of evil up-close and personal with the bombing of the Boston Marathon. When things like this happen, often people will ask, "Where was God?" or some equivalent question. I do not at all mind the question; in fact, it is a good question. I have briefly written about this myself in past posts, and of course many wiser men have addressed this question (here is a good, short example and for a fuller treatment check out The Problem of Pain for pastoral help or God, Freedom, and Evil for a philosophical treatment). I do not bring up the subject today, however, to address the "problem" itself but talk a little about something I read on Facebook yesterday. Obviously Facebook was full of comments about this tragedy. Like most major events that hit the Facebook newsfeed, comments were across the board, and I was encouraged by some, discouraged by one or two, impressed by several, and perplexed by a few. One in particular stood out, and I wanted to share it as well as a comment (a tragic option) that was added to my friend's post.

A friend of mine posted this on Facebook yesterday:

Playing off what Steve Childers said:
Our Options When Tragedy Strikes:
Option One: A sovereign God who is not loving. He doesn't care about our suffering.
Option Two: A loving God who is not sovereign. He cares but he's not in control.
Option Three: The all-sovereign, all-loving God, whose ways are often beyond our ability to fully comprehend (Isaiah 55:8-9). The sinfulness of man is far worse than we could imagine. The only hope we have for what happened in Boston is Jesus Christ changing people.
Only He can bring us comfort in the face of tragedy.

I completely agree with my friend's post. In fact, I do not bring it up because I want to add or subtract anything to what he has said. I bring it up because a comment was made on the post that presents a truly tragic option. The individual commented: "Option #4 - There is no God." That is what I want to address briefly.

The simple statement came with no further explanation as to the motive or mindset of this individual, but I think we can assume that this individual added this option because they endorse it. Perhaps they think it deals with the problem of evil and pain (which we all experience) better than any theistic explanation. But, does it? In my option it does not because this tragic fourth option has an important corollary that most do not consider. Most who accept this option do not follow it to its natural, logical end. They exist in a state of inconsistency that attempts to hold that life still has meaning and purpose and yet there is no god. There are a few, however, who have been honest about it. Ablert Camus, for example, rejected the idea of God (following the "God is dead" movement of Nietzsche) and determined that because of this life is absurd:

So long as the mind keeps silent in the motionless world of its hopes, everything is reflected and arranged in the unity of nostalgia. But with its first move this world cracks and tumbles: an infinite number of shimmering fragments is offered to the understanding. We must despair of ever reconstructing the familiar, calm surface which would give us peace of heart.... If the only significant history of human thought were to be written, it would have to be the history of successive regrets and its impotences. (The Myth of Sisyphus, p. 18, emphasis added)

Without God bringing, giving meaning to the universe, we must despair of ever being able to find any meaning in anything ourselves. In fact, according to Camus' honest look at life without God, it is man's very search for meaning that creates the absurdity of this life:

This world in itself is not reasonable, that is all that can be said. But what is absurd is the confrontation of this irrational and the wild longing for clarity whose call echoes in the human heart. The absurd depends as much on man as on the world. For the moment it is all that links them together. It binds them one to the other as only hatred can weld two creatures together.... This is all I can discern clearly in this meaningless universe... (ibid, p. 21, emphasis added)

So, Camus, who cannot give any comfort to the "longing for clarity" that "echoes in the human heart," is forced to conclude:

Hence the intelligence, too, tells me in its way that this world is absurd. Its contrary, blind reason, may well claim that all is clear; I was waiting for proof and longing for it to be right. But despite so many pretentious centuries and over the heads of so many eloquent and persuasive men, I know that is false. (ibid. pp. 20-21)

Without God this world is absurd. The necessary corollary to "option #4" is life is absurd, the problem of evil is unsolvable, and man's search for meaning, unity, and clarity is utterly futile. So, what does Camus, in his honest look at life without God, believe should be our response to this? He tells us that there are really two intelligent options: suicide or "fate surmounted by scorn." (ibid. p. 121) Your only options are to kill yourself or live life with hatred of the absurdity, scorn of this universe, and enough pride and defiance so as never to let the futility beat you. According to Camus, only dogged hate and pride will get one through this life.

As my quote from Brett Kunkle (above) points out, atheists must deal with the problem of evil just as theists must, and for their philosophical world-view to be acceptable, it must give us the resources necessary to deal with this issue and others like it. Does it? With the tragic option #4, what are we going to say to the victims of the bombing of the Boston Marathon? Perhaps: "In the grand scheme of the universe your suffering is utterly meaningless--life and all that comes with it has no transcendent meaning or value," "Take heart, you will soon cease to exist forever and your suffering will be over," or, as Bertrand Russell said, "...all the labours of the ages, all the devotion, all the inspiration, all the noonday brightness of human genius, are destined to extinction in the vast death of the solar system..." so who cares, right? Option #4 cannot deal with the problem of evil, at least not in a way that man's soul will find acceptable. Option #4 cannot offer any hope to the victims of this tragedy or a world living in fear of similar things happening to their loved ones. Option #4 cannot give us any resources for handling the problem of evil other than Camus' two options. Option #4 can only say, "This tragedy is absurd. Life is absurd. The bombing of the Boston Marathon only reminds us that we must either kill ourselves and get it over with or buckle down, hate this universe, live with defiance, and never let the world win." Is that really palatable? Is that anything less than tragic?

Now, do not get me wrong. I do not believe God exists, the Bible is true, and Jesus is the only hope for the world because it is the most palatable option. I believe it because it is true. I believe it because the Hound of Heaven relentlessly pursued me through my rejection of Him and brought me to the point where I could not deny His truth and my desperate need of Him. However, it is also the most palatable option, and I believe that is precisely because it is true, because it is the only world-view that can make sense of everything in the universe. As C. S. Lewis states, "I believe in Christianity as I believe that the sun has risen. Not only because I see it, but because by it I see everything else." (The Weight of Glory, p. 140) Only option #3 (i.e. orthodox Christianity) can shed light on pain, suffering, and the universe itself and allow us to understand their meaning.

By His Grace,
Taylor

A Dark Night

"Evil is conquered as evil because God turns it back upon itself. He makes the supreme crime, the murder of the only righteous person, the very operation that abolishes sin. The maneuver is utterly unprecedented. No more complete victory could be imagined. God responds in the indirect way that is perfectly suited to the ambiguity of evil. He entraps the deceiver in his own wiles. Evil, like a judoist, takes advantage of the power of good, which it perverts; the Lord, like a supreme champion, replies by using the very grip of the opponent." ~ Henri Blocher

While my wife and I were watching The Dark Knight Rises, a dark night was occurring a few time zones away. People who were attending another showing of the very movie we were presently watching were attacked by a man, for no apparent reason. According to news, a man burst into the crowded theater wearing a gas mask and carrying an arsenal. He shot what is believed to be tear gas into the crowd, and then he opened fire with a shotgun, a rifle, and two handguns. At least 12 people are dead, and dozens are critically injured.

As with other tragedies that have rocked our recent history, the big question is, "Where was God last night?" Well, He was on His throne as King of the universe, where He has always been since before there was time. He never left it during the showing of The Dark Knight Rises in Denver, on 9/11, at the Oklahoma City bombing, at Virginia Tech, during WWI, during WWII, or when two of my closest friends died a few months before 9/11. He was not somewhere else in the world and somehow missed it. He was not surprised by it. He has always been and will always be in control of all things. We cannot say "He was not in control" of that event or "did not ordain it" and yet also hold to promises like Ro. 8:28. He cannot work all things together for good unless He controls those bad things that He works together, along with the good things, to accomplish good for His people. Why did He ordain the Denver shootings? I have no idea. I could give a few possible reasons like bringing together a nation or opportunities for the gospel, but anything that I could come up with would surely not be close to a complete account of God's plans and would cheapen the lives lost in that tragedy. The last thing we want to do in these situations is give simplistic answers that cheapen the deaths of valuable human beings or sacrifice God's sovereignty because we do not understand. We must leave it up to Him and acknowledge that sometimes when the darkness surrounds us we cannot understand why. Yet, we cannot doubt in the dark what we have known to be true about God in the light, and when we "can't trace God's hand trust His heart." He is sovereign over all things, and He promises to work all things together for the good of those who are His. If you deny the first you cannot trust in the second. If you deny the first you cannot have the hope of the second.

God's ultimate proof of His control and His ultimate use of evil to accomplish good come together at the cross, which is why I began with Blocher's quote. He is, of course, saying nothing new. Peter said it in his sermon at Pentecost: "Men of Israel, hear these words: Jesus of Nazareth, a man attested to you by God with mighty works and wonders and signs that God did through Him in your midst, as you yourselves know—this Jesus, delivered up according to the definite plan and foreknowledge of God, you crucified and killed by the hands of lawless men." (Emphasis added.) God planned the ultimate crime and used the actions of evil men for the ultimate gift of salvation, for His glory and our good. Indeed, "no more complete victory could be imagined," and it shows that even in times of great tragedy like this, we can trust God's heart.

In all this, we cannot forget that we must grieve with those who grieve. The gospel is not a salve that will make the pain go away. The truth of the gospel is foundational in all things, especially death, but many people who have not experienced such grief try to use it as a magic wand to make those who are grieving instantly "feel better." They apply it with the hopes of making the grief go away. Yet, they do not understand that the gospel is not meant to keep us from mourning. It is meant to help us mourn as those who have its hope, to mourn not as the lost but with hope (1 Th. 4:13). Those who grieve must be allowed to grieve and struggle with God during these hard times. We cannot give "pat answers," we cannot sacrifice God's sovereignty, and we cannot trivialize the deaths of fellow human beings. We must grieve with those who grieve but not "as others do who have no hope" (1 Th. 4:13). We must pray the churches in the Denver area who will be called upon for urgent ministry. We must pray for our nation and communities. And, we must point to the cross as the ultimate proof of God's sovereignty over evil, His good use of it, and His heart for His people. What better answer can we give?

They do not give better answers, per se, but for similar answers from better men, I recommend reading one of Piper's articles that he wrote shortly after 9/11: Why I Do Not Say, "God Did Not Cause the Calamity, but He Can Use It for Good", and I also recommend listening to Steve Brown's broadcast that he aired on 9/12/2001: Tragedy, Sovereignty, and Hope.

By His Grace,
Taylor

Show Them No Mercy: The Conquering of Canaan

"When the Lord your God brings you into the land that you are entering to take possession of it, and clears away many nations before you, the Hittites, the Girgashites, the Amorites, the Canaanites, the Perizzites, the Hivites, and the Jebusites, seven nations more numerous and mightier than you, and when the Lord your God gives them over to you, and you defeat them, then you must devote them to complete destruction. You shall make no covenant with them and show no mercy to them." ~ Dt. 7:1-2 (Emphasis added)

In a few previous posts about the imprecatory psalms, I have written about some of the troubling statements in Scripture. A few weeks ago I wrote a short article for a Bible study I lead. We are studying Judges and studying Judges requires talking about the conquering of the land of Canaan, which is another troubling part of biblical history. Below is what I wrote:

What about the "holy war"? How does "show them no mercy" (Dt. 7:2) square with Jesus' teaching? The main problem here is that we do not have a high enough view of God's holiness. As Christians, we have encountered the grace of God in Jesus, which allows us to enter into God’s holy presence with boldness (He. 10:19-25), because of the promise that we are being remade after the pattern of that same holiness. But, in that grace, we may sometimes forget what that holiness looks like to someone who is not so covered. God is a consuming fire (He. 12:29), a purifying power that cannot abide the unholy to remain in His presence without destroying it. God, however, is also a gracious God who does not desire the complete destruction of the works of His hands, who holds back the consuming fire like a dam holds back a flood. The Conquest of Canaan is best understood as a profound and temporary in-breaking of God’s holiness into an unholy world for a specific redemptive purpose.

In creation, God created the world and humans holy. We fell from that holiness and therefore incurred the wrath of God. God's holiness consumes unholiness just as light consumes darkness. Only God can stay the consumption for a time. God, in His grace, has temporarily suspended His full wrath until the Day of final judgment, otherwise Adam and Eve would have been consumed and sent to hell on the spot. Common grace, God's forbearance of final judgment, became a part of the world in which we live.

This has bearing on the Conquest. The ethics of the Conquest are ultimately those of a completely holy and good God calling the rebellious people, the illegal aliens on His property into account. And, since the Fall affects all of us as equally as it affected the Canaanites, the implication is that we all deserve, always and everywhere, what they got then and there in Canaan from the Israelite armies. In light of this reality, we must admit that the shear fact that the Conquest was confined to only one very geographically limited area at only one point in human history is a sign of God’s mercy.

What? A sign of mercy? Yes; one of its purposes is for us to see what must be the inevitable result of our current standing with God as a race. The ethics of the Conquest can be seen as a type of what are called "intrusion ethics" (a term coined by Meredith Kline)—a temporary intrusion into history of the ethics of the final judgment, i.e. that moment when God finally brings the created order to account so that He can restore it to its original state of holiness. That is to say, the Conquest reveals in history, however briefly, what the end of history will look like when God returns in glory to reclaim in total His land, the eschatological (end-times) Promised Land. This is what is called Old Testament typology/study of "types." A type is an Old Testament event or person pointing to an eschatological/end-times reality (we are in the end times and have been since Pentecost, cf. Acts 2:14-24). Just as the OT Promised Land (a type) ultimately points to the eschatological reality of the new heavens and the new earth, the Conquest (another type) points to the eschatological judgment where God ultimately punishes evil (2 Pt. 3:10), the punishment He stayed at the Fall, and creates the new heavens and the new earth. One purpose of seeing such a thing in history is, therefore, to bring us to repentance, so that we might be spared that fate when the Day arrives. Not only will have God given humanity the whole of their history of time to turn back to Him, He will have also made it abundantly clear by the Conquest what is to come. But, still many "stiffen their necks" against Him.

All of this has profound ramifications for how we square the goodness of God, as we have encountered it in Jesus, with the severity of God, as we see it in the Conquest. In many respects, they are two sides of the same coin. They both show the extreme lengths to which God must go in order to get humanity's attention. The sad history of Jesus' rejection before His own people only reinforces the point that humankind's fallen hearts are so hardened that we cannot respond to God, even when He comes in meekness. Such a sorry state of affairs, such a clear example of our rebellion, makes the extreme ethics of the Conquest seem all the more justified. Further, it illustrates with vivid clarity how, in not getting always and everywhere what the Canaanites got then and there, humanity as a whole has seen merciful forbearance (common grace) on God’s part.

If we assume, as all Christians ought, that God is the sole creator of all that is, seen and unseen, it is not a leap to give to Him the authority to decide when that created order has gone right and when it has gone wrong (Ro. 9). When we truly grapple with the magnitude of our rebellion against God’s infinite, eternal, and unchangeable holiness, we must concede that we have dug the proverbial hole underneath us. In that light, the intrusion of God’s holiness into our thoroughly unholy world makes events like the Conquest a sad inevitability. The further problem arises that even our own sense of "goodness" has been undermined by our rebellion. Seeing through the broken lens of our sinfulness, it is often difficult to see how what seems to be the severity of God towards humanity is in fact consistent with His eternal goodness. In both respects, our current condition impairs us from easily understanding the Conquest. However, when we have laid the foundations of intrusion ethics and God’s great holiness, a clearer picture of the Conquest as a type of final judgment, and other parts of the Bible, emerges. 

Perhaps a typological chart would be helpful when thinking about OT types and end-times realities:

Old Testament Type	Eschatological Reality
The Exodus	Christ’s redemption
The wilderness wandering	This present life
The Promised Land	The new heavens and the new earth
The conquest of the Land	The Final Judgment
King David	King Jesus
Solomon’s kingdom	Jesus’ rule in the new heavens and the new earth

Hope this helps you wrestle with the ethics of the Conquest of Canaan. May be it something that allows you to see God's majesty for clearly, for His glory and your good. 

By His Grace,

Taylor

The Bumpy Ride

"...She had mapped out a perfect life, without failures or disappointments. But that is more of a flawed life-plan than the bumpy ride God inevitably maps out for us. People who have never suffered in life have less empathy for others, little knowledge of their own shortcomings and limitations, no endurance in the face of hardship, and unrealistic expectations for life. As the New Testament book of Hebrews tells us, anyone God loves experiences hardship (Hebrews 12:1-8)." Tim Keller, Counterfeit Gods

God is good. Any Christian would agree with that statement. We can even say that God is perfectly good, and He is all the time. We take great comfort in those words, as we should, but there is a side of God’s goodness that we often misunderstand. We often think that God loving us means He will not allow us to experience "the bumpy ride." Many of us have found, however, that is simply not the case.

When C. S. Lewis lost his wife, Joy, he started journaling about his struggles with God. Eventually one of his friends read his journal and convinced Lewis to publish it because he knew how much it would help many others. Lewis did publish it (initially under a pseudonym) with the title A Grief Observed. In it he wrote about God’s goodness:

The terrible thing is that a perfectly good God is in this matter hardly less formidable than a Cosmic Sadist. The more we believe that God hurts only to heal, the less we can believe that there is any use in begging for tenderness. A cruel man might be bribed-might grow tired of his vile sport-might have a temporary fit of mercy, as alcoholics have fits of sobriety. But suppose that what you are up against is a surgeon whose intentions are wholly good. The kinder and more conscientious he is, the more inexorably he will go on cutting. If he yielded to your entreaties, if he stopped before the operation was complete, all the pain up to that point would have been useless. But is it credible that such extremities of torture should be necessary for us? Well, take your choice. The tortures occur. If they are unnecessary, then there is no God or a bad one. If there is a good God, then these tortures are necessary. For not even moderately good Being could possibly inflict or permit them if they weren’t. Either way, we’re in for it.

I think we often miss this when we consider what a "good God" would be like. In today’s culture, we want to believe that a truly "good God" would not discipline us, allow us to take a path that will hurt us, or use the evil in the world to accomplish His good plans for making us more like Jesus. We try to fit God into a box where His goodness is subject to our desires and comfort. Is that good though? Is a parent who does not discipline their child doing that child a favor? It is painful to have a broken bone set, but if the medic acquiesced to the pleas to stop before the bone was set, would that be good? In each case the child or the injured individual may be thankful at the time, but in the long run, they would be hurt a great deal more. Thankfully we have a wise and a good God who knows better than to stop before He is finished. It is also kind of frightening to believe in such a God because we then have to come to grips with the reality that He may do something for our good that is extremely unpleasant. We have to realize that He uses suffering to produce Christ-like character and hope in us (Ro. 5:3-5). That means there will be times when we may wish that He would be subject to bribes like some kind of "Cosmic Sadist," but if He were, He would not be good. During these times we have to remember what Charles Spurgeon once said, "When you can’t trace God’s hand, trust His heart."

By His Grace,
Taylor

The Problem With a Good God

"The terrible thing is that a perfectly good God is in this matter hardly less formidable than a Cosmic Sadist. The more we believe that God hurts only to heal, the less we can believe that there is any use in begging for tenderness. A cruel man might be bribed - might grow tired of his vile sport - might have a temporary fit of mercy, as alcoholics have fits of sobriety. But suppose that what you are up against is a surgeon whose intentions are wholly good. The kinder and more conscientious he is, the more inexorably he will go on cutting. If he yielded to your entreaties, if he stopped before the operation was complete, all the pain up to that point would have been useless. But is it credible that such extremities of torture should be necessary for us? Well, take your choice. The tortures occur. If they are unnecessary, then there is no God or a bad one. If there is a good God, then these tortures are necessary. For no even moderately good Being could possibly inflict or permit them if they weren’t. Either way, we’re in for it.” ~ C. S. Lewis, A Grief Observed

I think we often miss this when we consider what a "good God" would be like. We want to believe that a truly "good God" would not discipline us or allow us to take a path that will hurt us. We try to fit God into a box where His goodness is subject to our desires. Is that good though? Is a parent who does not discipline their child doing that child a favor? It is painful to have a broken bone set, but if the medic acquiesced to the pleas to stop before the bone was set would that be good? In each case the child or the injured individual may be thankful at the time, but in the long run they would be hurt a great deal more. Thankfully we have a wise and a good God who knows better than to stop before He is finished. Though it is also kind of frightening to believe in such a God because we then have to come to grips with the reality that He may do something for our good that is extremely unpleasant. There are times when we may wish that He would be subject to bribes like some kind of "Cosmic Sadist". Many of us have been through such times, however, and can now say, "While the cuts were deep and the wounds took a long time to heal, I would not go back and change it for God did use it for the good."

By His Grace,
Taylor