Fight the Good Fight of the Faith: A Down Payment of What is to Come

This Sunday, we will take a look at most of Jos. 5, where right after they enter the Promised Land, God commands Israel to celebrate the two sacraments that they had in the Old Testament: circumcision and the Passover. A sacrament is a visible sign that God gives His people to represent and seal to them an invisible grace. In the Old Testament (OT), they had circumcision and the Passover. In the New Testament (NT), Jesus has given us baptism and the Lord's Supper, both of which are visible signs and seals of invisible grace that God gives us in Christ when we look to Him in faith.

We will talk some about that on Sunday as we talk about how God reassures the Israelites' and our faith. But, one thing I probably will not get to is talking about how the eating the produce of the Promised Land for the first time was a kind of down payment to the Israelites of what was to come.

At the end of the passage that we will read--in vv. 11-12--the text tells us three times that God's people ate, for the first time, the produce of the land, i.e. instead of eating manna from heaven, they ate the crops of the Promised Land. Constantly in the Pentateuch, the Promised Land is described as a "land flowing with milk and honey" (cf. e.g. Dt. 26:9), i.e. it is a land so rich with food that they will hardly have to work for it. This was a wonderful promise to a people who had been slaves in Egypt and had wandered in the desert for forty years. One day, God would give them a land that will flow with provision so abundant that they will see it as "flowing with milk and honey." And, at the end of the passage that we will study on Sunday, the people finally "ate of the produce of the land." It must have been a joyous occasion, but it was much more than that. It was a down payment, of sorts--God saying to them, "This is just the beginning. You will possess this land and have abundant provision from me." What they ate after that first Passover wasn't remarkable ("unleavened cakes and parched grain"), but it was a sign that God has so much more to come in the Promised Land.

Friends, one way that we can see Christ in this text is here. Remember, in the last sermon, we talked about a question we can ask of any OT text to help us see Christ in it is: How does this passage show us the redeeming nature of God? Here we can see God's redeeming nature in how He gives us a foretaste of what He promises us.

The Promised Land of Canaan was never the true Promised Land that God has ultimately for His people. It was simply an earthly, temporary fulfillment that pointed to something greater: the new heavens and new earth (cf. He. 4; 11). Jesus has secured the new heavens and new earth for all His people (OT and NT believers) and will one day bring us all into that true Promised Land, which will be a land so great, so wonderful, so glorious that describing it as "flowing with milk and honey" cannot do it justice (cf. Re. 21-22). Yet, God gives us a foretaste of that glorious blessing even now.

When we rest on the Lord's Day (the Christian Sabbath), we are given a taste of the eternal rest and provision that God will give us in the new heavens and new earth. In fact, one of the Reformed catechisms, the Heidelberg Catechism, reminds us in question 103 that keeping the fourth commandment (i.e. remembering the sabbath to keep it holy) shows us this:

Q. What is God’s will for you in the fourth commandment?
A. First, that the gospel ministry and education for it be maintained, and that, especially on the festive day of rest, I regularly attend the assembly of God’s people to learn what God’s Word teaches, to participate in the sacraments, to pray to God publicly, and to bring Christian offerings for the poor. Second, that every day of my life I rest from my evil ways, let the Lord work in me through his Spirit, and so begin already in this life the eternal Sabbath.

God gives us a foretaste of that wonderful rest that is to come as a kind of "down payment" in the Lord's Day, and we get to start our weeks being reminded of that. We get to start our weeks being reminded that even the best Sunday is nothing compared to what eternity will be like in the new heavens and new earth--it is just a down payment.

Another way we can get a foretaste of what is to come is the way God graciously provides for our needs even now. We will talk a little more about this on Sunday, but God provided for the Israelites needs in the wilderness through the miraculous manna. Yet, once they entered the land, God ceased the manna and instead provided for their needs through the regular produce of the land. As we will discuss Sunday, that might have seemed quite ordinary (crops, cattle, etc.) but is actually extraordinary--they never had to worry because God's provision was regular and predictable. Today, God also generally supplies our needs not by miracles but by the regular, "mundane" things such as jobs, food on the table, health, etc. It is easy for us to take that for granted, but I think this passage is showing us that's God's regular provision for us is a down payment of how we will be eternally, perfectly, abundantly blessed by Him in the new heavens and new earth. If God cares for our needs now (while we are still sinners, still wanders), how much more will He provide when we are in perfect fellowship with Him for all eternity in the true Promised Land? What we have right now is a kind of down payment, in which God says to us, "This is just the beginning. You will possess the true Promised Land and have abundant, super-abundant provision from me."

The last lines of C. S. Lewis' Narnia book, The Last Battle, reminds me of this. At the end of that book, Aslan returns to Narnia to defeat his enemies and take his people into the New Narnia, and he does so with a mighty roar that brings an end to the old Narnia and takes them into the new. Meanwhile, in the human world Lucy and her siblings are on a train in England, and then all of a sudden, they find themselves in a field, clothed in Narnian garb, but it is unlike any Narnian garb they had ever seen--it is without flaw or blemish and almost glows. Then, they see some of their friends from Narnia and Aslan himself. They explain to Lucy and her brothers that the old Narnia has passed away and they are in the New Narnia, and then Aslan looks at them with laughter in his eyes and darts off like an arrow, yelling behind him “Come further in! Come further up!” As they follow as best they can, they find this New Narnia resembles the old that they knew and loved, but this one is bigger, brighter, and more magnificent than anything they had known or ever imagined. At one point Lucy says, “Isn’t it wonderful? Have you noticed one can’t be afraid, even if one wants to? Try it.” Yet, as they go further in and further up after Aslan, Aslan looks at Lucy and says, “You do not yet look so happy as I mean you to be.” She replies, “We’re so afraid of being sent away, Aslan. And you have sent us back into our own world so often.” She doesn’t want to leave the glories that she’s experienced because they’re everything she ever wanted and so much more. Aslan looks at her with eyes that comfort all sorrow and explains to her that she died in a railway accident, and that is why she’s now in the New Narnia. “The term is over,” he says, “the holidays have begun. The dream is ended: this is the morning.” And, Lewis ends the book by narrating, “And for us this is the end of all the stories, and we can most truly say that they all lived happily ever after. But for them it was only the beginning of the real story… which goes on for ever: in which every chapter is better than the one before.”

That last statement is a wonderful description of the glory that awaits us in the true Promised Land--each chapter will be better than the one before. And, right now, all that God graciously provides for His people is a "down payment" of sorts through His provision and through His Sabbath, reminding us that the best is yet to come.

By His Grace,

Taylor

The Gospel According to Joseph: The Gospel and Transformation

Continuing our way through the story of Joseph, Jacob, and Judah brings us to Ge. 43-44, which is one of the high points of this narrative, at least when it comes to the theme of gospel-change working in our lives. In the previous sermon, we saw Jacob and Joseph's brothers' consciences being pricked and awakened by God; yet we didn't actually see any transformation of their hearts. In Ge. 43-44, we see God use the tools of providence and guilt to transform Jacob and the brothers' hearts. It's a wonderful development in the plot of this story, and you can hear the sermon here or read the transcript here.

As we have stated in the past posts in this series, we are also learning the questions that we can ask of any OT text to help us to see how Jesus may be on the page of Scripture. In this passage, we do not learn a new question but reuse one we have already learned: What does this passage reveal about the redeeming nature of God? And, when we see an aspect of God's redeeming nature, we can see Jesus there, for He brings together all those aspects in His work of redemption. In this sermon, we also get introduced to another way of seeing Christ in these Old Testament stories: types. A "type" is a theological term for an OT person, place, or object that God ordained to serve as a predictive pattern for Christ and what He does for us, and we see Judah as a type of Christ at the end of ch. 44. If you want to learn how, you can hear the sermon here or read the transcript here.

I pray that this sermon will show you Jesus clearly and Him only and that it will be a blessing to your soul.

By His Grace,
Taylor

The Gospel According to Joseph: Humility

As we continue through the story of Joseph, Jacob, and Judah, there are so many great aspects of this story that we won't be able to cover from the pulpit. The passage at which we will be looking this week, Ge. 41, is one of the high points of this whole narrative. In it we see the climax of God's providential work in and through Joseph, and in it we also get a great look at Joseph's character.

Remember, one of the things we noted in the very beginning of this series is that we can often see the gospel in the development of characters in OT stories, i.e. gospel-change working in their lives. In the previous chapters of this narrative, we have seen Joseph become a man who endures and serves God faithfully wherever God has put him. However, in Ge. 41 we get the clearest picture of Joseph's developing character so far, and one of the things that stands out is the humility that God has developed in Joseph.

Humility is a tricky virtue to nail down. It's the one fruit of the Spirit that when we look at it or gaze upon it in ourselves, it immediately becomes something else. That's because true, gospel-driven, Christ-centered humility isn't what we might normally think of as "humble." I think we often think that the opposite of pride is self-abasing, but that's not true humility. True humility isn't talking or thinking about how bad we are and constantly bemoaning our flaws or sin in our own minds or before others. Constantly thinking about or pointing out how lowly we are is just another way of putting ourselves at the center when it is Christ that should be at the center. Furthermore, when do debase ourselves in our minds or before others, what creeps into minds after that is how great it is that we're so humble, and we become proud of being humble! Listen to what Jonathan Edwards has to say about this aspect of humility:

If on the proposal of the question [Are you humble?], you answer, "No, it seems to me, none are so bad as I." Don't let the matter pass off so; but examine again, whether or no you don't think yourself better than others on this very account, because you imagine you think so meanly of yourself. Haven't you a high opinion of this humility? And if you answer again, "No; I have not a high opinion of my humility; it seems to me I am as proud as the devil"; yet examine again, whether self-conceit don't rise up under this cover; whether on this very account, that you think yourself as proud as the devil, you don't think yourself to be very humble.

C. S. Lewis called this cycle of fighting self-admiration and then admiring yourself for defeating your self-admiration "like fighting the hydra... There seems to be no end to it. Depth under depths of self-love and self-admiration."

That's because humility is the one fruit of the Spirit that flourishes when our thoughts and our gaze are on Christ and others and not at ourselves at all! Humility isn't thinking less of ourselves, it's thinking about ourselves less. It is "blessed self-forgetfulness," as Tim Keller calls it. Lewis has a great statement about this in Mere Christianity:

Do not imagine that if you meet a really humble man he will be what most people call 'humble' nowadays: he will not be a sort of greasy, smarmy person, who is always telling you that, of course, he is nobody. Probably all you will think about him is that he seemed a cheerful, intelligent chap who took a real interest in what you said to him. If you do dislike him it will be because you feel a bit envious of anyone who seems to enjoy life so easily. He will not be thinking about humility: he will not be thinking about himself at all. [Emphasis added]

And, in Ge. 41, we see this kind of humility in Joseph when he stands before Pharaoh. In that moment, he has the chance to put himself in the spotlight. He has the chance to show Pharaoh how useful he could be to him or how he's been treated so unjustly, but he doesn't take it. In fact, it is remarkable how Joseph points the spotlight away from himself towards God. He doesn't give any hint of trying to impress Pharaoh with his abilities, self-abasement, or anything else. He simply serves God faithfully and let's God handle the rest. Before Pharaoh, Joseph isn't thinking about himself at all. He's self-forgetful, and that's because he finds his true, core identity in his relationship with God and nowhere else. And, that will be one of the things we talk about this Sunday from Ge. 41: true identity in Christ.

In the mean time, when you read through Ge. 41, make note of Joseph's humility and how it is in his self-forgetfulness, not self-abasing.

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

Book Review: "A Grief Observed"

Yesterday was C. S. Lewis' birthday (thanks Adam for reminding me). He was born November 29, in 1898. Recently I wrote a short review of one of his best works (in my opinion): A Grief Observed. If you get a chance, buy it and read it, even if you are not dealing with grief right now. It is short, honest, and will bless your soul. Enjoy the review...

Many books have been written on the subject of grief but none quite like this one. Most books on the subject of grief are written about how to deal with grief. This book, however, talks indirectly about dealing with grief by doing exactly what the title implies: observing a particular grief. This book is not about grief (in general) observed for such a book would have to be, as Douglas Gresham says in his introduction to this work, “so general and nonspecific as to be academic in its approach and thus of little use to anyone approaching or experiencing bereavement.”  This book observes C. S. Lewis’ grief after having lost his wife, Helen Joy Gresham (referred to simply as “H.” in the book). It was originally written simply as the journal of a man who was struggling with God and the loss of part of himself. Lewis had no intentions of publishing it until a friend of his read it and begged him to publish it because it would help so many people. It certainly has done that.

This book is especially near to my heart because I have grieved in a way similar to Lewis. I did not lose a wife but I lost my two closest friends in the span of a few months. I struggled mightily with God for a long time after that. There were many days where I shook my fist at God and said, “God, I would leave you if I had anywhere else to go.” Unfortunately, I did not know about A Grief Observed at the time. I know it would have helped me to know that “real” Christians actually do struggle with God when they grieve.

What a “real” Christian thinks, feels, and says when they struggle with grief is possibly the greatest contribution of this book. Often in the Church we spiritualize grief in such a way as to make it seem trivial, which is very unfair to those who are experiencing it. Lewis expresses this frustration, “Talk to me about the truth of religion and I’ll listen gladly. Talk to me about the duty of religion and I’ll listen submissively. But don’t come talking to me about the consolations of religion or I shall suspect that you don’t understand.”  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 (1 Thess. 4:13). All of us who grieve must be allowed to grieve and struggle with God during these hard times. The struggle is normal and okay for God knows that we are dust (Ps. 103:14). In my estimation, the greatest contribution that this book makes is simply showing that “real” Christians struggle with God during grief. Lewis is one of the giants of the modern Church. His polemical works were ahead of their time and second to none, yet during the grief of death even the man who wrote The Problem of Pain and Mere Christianity asked the question, “[W]here is God?”  Even Lewis struggled with feeling that when “you go to Him when your need is desperate, when all other help is vain… [you find] a door slammed in your face, and a sound of a bolting and a double bolting on the inside.”  The Church needs this kind of honesty and permission to struggle with God in grief.

Probably the second greatest contribution that Lewis makes with this work is the fact that he does not let the struggle consume him. This work chronicles his move from feeling like the door to God was slammed and locked in his face to realizing, “It is not the locked door. It is more like a silent, certainly not uncompassionate, gaze. As though He shook His head not in refusal but waiving the question. Like, ‘Peace, child; you don’t understand.’” This may not seem like a large step to one who has not grieved, but those who have felt the cold pain of the closed door know that this is a long way down the path of recovery. If Lewis had left us with the pain of the initial struggle, it would not be helpful to any grieving Christian. However, Lewis honestly chronicled the struggle from deep pain to the point where he could say, “How wicked would it be, if we could, to call the dead back!... Poi si torno all’ eternal fontana.”  The last section translates, “Then back to the eternal fountain.” In this work he showed us that “real” Christians struggle with grief, but also that “real” Christians continue to struggle until they can say to God, “Praise in due order; of [You] as the giver, of her as the gift…. by praising I can still, in some degree, enjoy her, and already, in some degree, enjoy [You].”

The third and final contribution of this work that I would like to mention (there are many more outside of the scope of this short review) is the honest way he struggles with the way others treat him. Those who have a friend who is bereaved can learn a lot of how to treat that friend from this work. For example, he acknowledges that he wants to be around others but wants just to be able to be while around them—“I dread the moments when the house is empty. If only they would talk to one another and not to me.”  During grief, especially the initial stages, you do not want to be alone but you also fear being around others because they will try to get you to “talk about it” when you just need their presence. If only people could understand that you do not want them to make you happy; you just want to know that others still are. I think this is what Lewis is expressing here. Another example: “An odd byproduct of my loss is that I’m aware of being an embarrassment to everyone I meet…. I see people, as they approach me, trying to make up their minds whether they’ll ‘say something about it’ or not. I hate it if they do, and if they don’t.”  I hated this too. People simply do not know how to be around you. They do not want to treat you like “normal” because they feel that would be insensitive but they also do not know how to talk to you about it, so they end up making you feel like an invalid. Most of the time you do not want to talk; you just want to be treated like normal so that you can bring it up when you are ready to talk. For all those who have not experience such grief, A Grief Observed is very helpful in learning how your grieving friends want to be treated.

This book is one-of-a-kind. I am so thankful that Lewis’ friend convinced him to publish it for it has helped so many grieving Christians and will continue to help them for many years to come. I have described the three greatest contributions that I think this book makes but there are so many more that I simply could not fit into the scope of this review. Whether someone is grieving a great loss, knows someone who is grieving a great loss, or simply wants to understand Christian grief better, this book will be invaluable to them. As Douglas Gresham says in his introduction, “…at least this book will help us to face our grief, and to ‘misunderstand a little less completely.’”

By His Grace,
Taylor

The Hydra of Humility

"During my afternoon 'meditations,'—which I at least attempt quite regularly now—I have found out ludicrous and terrible things about my own character. Sitting by, watching the rising thoughts to break their necks as they pop up, one learns to know the sort of thoughts that do come.
"And, will you believe it, one out of every three is the thought of self-admiration: when everything else fails, having had its neck broken, up comes the thought 'what an admirable fellow I am to have broken their necks!”' I catch myself posturing before the mirror, so to speak, all day long. I pretend I am carefully thinking out what to say to the next pupil (for his good, of course) and then suddenly realize I am really thinking how frightfully clever I'm going to be and how he will admire me...
"And then when you force yourself to stop it, you admire yourself for doing that. It is like fighting the hydra... There seems to be no end to it. Depth under depths of self-love and self-admiration." ~ C. S. Lewis in a letter to his friend Arthur

True humility has always been a struggle of mine. When I say "true humility" I do not mean the attitude where one is always telling everyone how lowly they are. I mean the kind of humility that Tim Keller calls "blessed self-forgetfulness" which is not thinking less of yourself but thinking of yourself less. This subject and quote has been on my mind a lot lately because I just recently I preached a sermon on it at my church, St. Paul's Presbyterian Church. If you are interested in hearing more thoughts on it you can listen to the sermon here (or if you like you can read my transcript here) but if not, I hope the Lewis quote is enough to get you thinking about true humility on your own.

By His Grace,
Taylor

God's Sovereignty in Lewis

"Thus we see Lewis’ purpose in The Horse and His Boy. His aim throughout the whole story with almost every character was one and the same: to expand and display the reality present in Romans 8:28, 'And we know that God causes all things to work together for good, to those that love God, to those who are called according to His purpose.' Aslan, as you have seen, has this kind of encounter with Shasta and many other characters. All of the characters, even Bree the horse, seem to be down and out when Aslan comes to them with sovereign encouragement one by one." ~ Adam Powers

One of my friends, Adam Powers, is writing a series of entries on his blog about C. S. Lewis's Narnia series. Today's post is about The Horse and His Boy. Adam shows how one of Lewis' main points in this work is to show us the comfort of the sovereignty of God. He makes a great point and it is very encouraging. Read more here.

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

Nothing

"Nothing is very strong: strong enough to steal away a man's best years not in sweet sins but in a dreary flickering of the mind over it knows not what and knows not why, in the gratification of curiosities so feeble that the man is only half aware of them, in drumming of fingers and kicking of heels, in whistling tunes that he does not like, or in the long, dim labyrinth of reveries that have not even lust or ambition to give them a relish, but which, once chance association has started them, the creature is too weak and fuddled to shake off... The only thing that matters is the extent to which you separate the man from the Enemy... Murder is no better than cards if cards can do the trick. Indeed, the safest road to Hell is the gradual one..." ~ Screwtape in C. S. Lewis' Screwtape Letters


To understand this quote from Lewis' famous work it is essential to remember that this book was written from a demon's perspective. In the book Screwtape (a senior demon) is writing letters to his nephew, Wormwood, who is a "junior tempter". Since it is from a demon's perspective "the Enemy" is God. Here Screwtape is advising Wormwood not to do more than he has to when tempting "the Patient" (an unnamed British man). The chief purpose of a tempter, Screwtape reminds Wormwood, is to separate the man from God. The young demon need not go to all the effort of tempting the Patient to murder if simply distracting him with idle pleasures will get the job done.

Nothing is very strong. It is one of the simplest way that our enemy tempts us to evade responsibility. If it successfully separates us from God then the enemy has succeeded and he has literally used nothing to do it. I never thought "nothing" could be a sin until I read this. This, of course, does not mean that "nothing" is always a sin, but it does make me think about the "nothing" parts of my life. It makes me wonder if there were times where I could have made our enemy work a little harder at his job.

By His Grace,
Taylor

Self-Coherence

"Never forget that when we are dealing with any pleasure in its healthy and normal and satisfying form, we are, in a sense, on the Enemy’s ground. I know we have won many a soul through pleasure. All the same, it is His invention, not ours. He made the pleasures: all our research so far has not enabled us to produce one. All we can do is to encourage the humans to take the pleasures which our Enemy has produced, at at times, or in ways, or in degrees, which He has forbidden.... An ever increasing craving for an ever diminishing pleasure is the formula.... To get a man's soul and give him nothing in return--that's what really gladdens our Father's heart." ~ Screwtape in The Screwtape Letters, by C. S. Lewis

When reading this quote from this Lewis' classic we have to remember that "the Enemy" is God and "our Father" is satan since this is written from the perspective of an veteran demon writing to a rookie demon. The main thrust of this quote is that desire and pleasure come from God, but when they get out of order they become sin. I love how Lewis points out that all satan can do is temp/encourage humanity to crave and experience those God-given pleasures in ways they were not designed for. It is encouraging to remember that His design is for these pleasures to truly be healthy and satisfying. The NT agrees with Lewis' determination here. When it speaks of wrongful desires it most often uses the Greek word epithumia, which means "over desire" or "inordinate desire".

It is also interesting to note that Plato wrote something very similar in The Republic in about 380 BC. He thought that "self-control" was a contradiction because if one was his own master then he would also be his own slave. Plato held that "self-coherence" was a more accurate word because it implied that the desires in the self were not out of control but cohered to what the self was really looking for.

By His Grace,
Taylor

Humility

"Humility senses that humility is a gift beyond our reach. If humility is the product of reaching, then we will instinctively feel proud about our successful reach. Humility is the gift that receives all things as gift. It is the fruit not of our achievement but of the Holy Spirit (Galatians 5:22). It is the fruit of the gospel—knowing and feeling that we are desperate sinners and that Christ is a great and undeserved Savior.

Humility is the one grace in all our graces that, if we gaze on it, becomes something else. It flourishes when the gaze is elsewhere—on the greatness of the grace of God in Christ" ~ John Piper, Lewis and Edwards on the Layers of Self-Admiration

I have written on humility before, but I really wanted to share this quote. Piper hits on a key point when it comes to humility: once gazed upon it immediately becomes something else. When we think about our humility we cannot help but be proud of the fact that we are humble, thus damaging the humility. Tim Keller calls true humility "blessed self-forgetfulness" because it is only when our focus is lifted from ourselves to something else (to Christ, as Piper points out) that true humility can be developed. C. S. Lewis affirms this in Mere Christianity: "Do not imagine that if you meet a really humble man he will be what most people call 'humble' nowadays: he will not be a sort of greasy, smarmy person, who is always telling you that, of course, he is nobody. Probably all you will think about him is that he seemed a cheerful, intelligent chap who took a real interest in what you said to him. If you do dislike him it will be because you feel a bit envious of anyone who seems to enjoy life so easily. He will not be thinking about humility: he will not be thinking about himself at all."

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

Theological Basis of Science

“I see no reason for believing that one accident should be able to give me a correct account of all the other accidents. It’s like expecting that the accidental shape taken by the splash when you upset a milk-jug should give you a correct account of how the jug was made and why it was upset.” ~ C. S. Lewis, God in the Dock

I have pointed this out in a few previous posts, but when I ran across such a poignant quote I decided to share it and reiterate a very important philosophical point when it comes to a naturalistic world view. According to this view, the world is a product of blind, purposeless processes. We, our logic, and our reason are then the final result of an accident. If this is true how then do we account for such things as the scientific method, universal laws of physics, or abstract reasoning and the laws of logic? If our minds are the product of an accident how do we expect that they should be able to accurately comprehend the accident? How can we have any sort of confidence in our reasoning processes if the mind is a mere accident of nature?

There has been a lot of argument about the basis of science in the modern era. The naturalistic scientist would like to assume that theology has nothing to do with science, but as authors like Alister McGrath and Michael Bumbulls show, science was birthed in a theological world view. As evolutionist Paul Davies points out, "the most atheistic scientist accepts as an act of faith that the universe is not absurd... So science can proceed only if the scientist adopts an essentially theological worldview."

By His Grace,
Taylor

Meaningless or Meaningful?

"If the whole universe has no meaning, we should never have found out that it has no meaning: just as, if there were no light in the universe and therefore no creatures with eyes, we should never know it was dark. Dark would be without meaning." ~ C. S. Lewis

I like this statement from Lewis (found in Mere Christianity). It shows how nihilism is ultimately self-defeating. How could a meaningless creature in a meaningless existence come to such a meaningful conclusion that life has no meaning? Meaningless creatures would never be able to discover the truth of their own meaninglessness. Lewis's analogy demonstrates this well. The fact that one can come to such a conclusion shows that there is something fundamentally wrong with such a philosophy.

I think this also should make one seriously think about the existence of an Ultimate Being. If life is an accident, the product of random events, then it surely would be without meaning and we would have no fundamental basis for the logic necessary to make such a conclusion (see my post A Matter of Faith). Yet, we can make such a conclusion. I believe this points to the belief that life is not random but has fundamentals, which, if traced backward, must have been established by a Self-Sustaining, Ultimate Fundamental.

By His Grace,
Taylor

To Read the Old or the New?

"...if he must read only the new or only the old [Christian works], I would advise him to read the old... he is an amateur and therefore much less protected than the expert against the dangers of an exclusive contemporary diet... It is a good rule, after reading a new book, never to allow yourself another new one till you have read an old one in between... We all... need the books that will correct the characteristic mistakes of our own period... None of us can fully escape this blindness..." ~ C. S. Lewis

I think this is very wise advise. We are all, in one way or another, a product of our age and therefore have similar blind spots which lead to similar mistakes. When we read a work from a different culture and a different time we can finally, in various ways, step outside of our cultural biases and see truth from another perspective. Indeed other ages had their own biases, but they are in at least some ways different from our own. They may have missed things we can see clearly, but they may also see things clearly that we miss and this is vitally important if we desire to glorify God in wisdom and truth. A diverse diet of old and new Christian works can give us brief glimpses of our biases and can reveal truth to which we may be blind if left to our own reason.

By His Grace,
Taylor

Blessed Self-Forgetfulness

"Humility is not thinking less of ourselves, it is thinking of ourselves less." ~ C. S. Lewis

This is a truth that I think is missed so often by almost everyone (though that is a grouse generalization, I know). I think we often think that the opposite of pride is self-abasing. This is not humility. Thinking about how lowly we are is just another way of putting ourselves at the center when it is God that should be at the center.

Paul gives us the key to humility I Corinthians 4:3-4 "I care very little if I am judged by you or by any human court; indeed, I do not even judge myself... It is the Lord who judges me." Paul's identity is not tied to human thought, not even his own. His identity is tied to God's judgment. If you are a Christian then God has judged you perfect because of the righteousness of Christ. So we need to stop judging ourselves completely, for good or for bad. We need to think of ourselves less. This is "blessed self-forgetfulness," as Tim Keller puts it.

By His Grace,
Taylor