Sunday, January 29, 2017

Blessed are the Meek, Matthew 5:5

Shiloh Lutheran Church
State College, PA

We're going to focus on the third beatitude this morning, “blessed are the meek,” but we need to know that all the beatitudes belong together. They're not intended to describe different kinds of people, but taken together they describe what a Christian is intended to look like. Christians recognize their poverty of spirit, that they have nothing to bring into God's presence. This leads them to mourn their sinfulness, and in this way seeing the truth about themselves, they become meek both in their attitude toward God and in their treatment of others. But they're not content with where they are spiritually, so they hunger and thirst for righteousness. Because they've received mercy, they are merciful toward others, are in the process of being purified before God, and seek to make peace between their fellow humans and between people and God. And because they are seriously out of step with the world, they experience persecution. So these beatitudes all belong together, but this morning we're going to focus on meekness.

Martyn Lloyd-Jones has a good description of meekness in his Studies in the Sermon on the Mount: “Meekness is essentially a true view of oneself, expressing itself in attitudes and conduct with respect to others. It is therefore two things. It is my attitude towards myself; and it is an expression of that in my relationship to others.... The meek man is not proud of himself, he does not in any sense glory in himself. He feels that there is nothing in himself of which he can boast. It also means that he does not assert himself. You see, it is a negation of the popular psychology of the day which says ‘assert yourself’, ‘express your personality’.... The meek man likewise does not demand anything for himself. He does not take all his rights as claims. He does not make demands for his position, his privileges, his possessions, his status in life. No, he is like the man depicted by Paul in Philippians 2. ‘Let this mind be in you, which was also in Christ Jesus.’ Christ did not assert that right to equality with God; He deliberately did not. And that is the point to which you and I have to come” (pp. 72-73). So this word in Matthew 5 includes both our inner disposition–meekness–and, flowing from that, gentleness in the ways that we act toward other people. We’ll be looking at both of these things this morning.

The primary thing implied by meekness is submissiveness to God’s will. It doesn’t have anything to do with weakness or lack of assertiveness. It’s not about “niceness,” or being an agreeable, easy-going person. It doesn’t mean living as a doormat, just letting other people do whatever they want to us without protest. It’s not about being passive, resigning ourselves to endure whatever happens. These things come to mind when we use the word meek, but that’s not what the biblical writers have in mind. A meek person is, above all, someone who has submitted to God’s will. This implies a number of things.

First of all, saying that we are submitting to God’s will implies that we are living in repentance, because this is not our natural state as sinners in a fallen world. Ever since Adam and Eve gave in to the temptation to “be like God,” the human race as a whole has been headed in the wrong direction. As Isaiah said: “We all, like sheep, have gone astray, each of us has turned to his own way” (Isaiah 53:6a). In our natural condition, we go our own way; we want to run our own lives. We’d like God’s help when we’re in trouble, but we don’t want to submit our wills to Him. Israel is described over and over again as a “stiff-necked people,” people who consistently put their own desires ahead of God’s will. To be stiff-necked is the opposite of being meek, and this is our natural condition. We’re stiff-necked and rebellious, going our own way. Repentance is a change of mind, a realization that we’ve been headed in the wrong direction and a determination to turn around and go the other way.

This also implies that we’ve been humbled before God. The problem is not just that we’re headed in the wrong direction. If you take a wrong turn on the road, all you need to do is turn around and go the other way. But what happens if you’re too proud to admit that you’ve made a mistake? You keep on driving, getting further and further from your destination. Admitting that we’re headed in the wrong direction implies that we’ve been humbled. We’re not just saying that we’ve made a mistake along the way; we’re saying that our whole way of life is under God’s judgment and needs to be rejected. We’re confessing not only that we’ve done wrong, but that we are wrong. We’re confessing that in our flesh there is no good thing, nothing that can become pleasing to God. We’re “dead in trespasses and sins,” incapable of doing anything to remedy our situation. All we can do is humble ourselves before God and cry out for mercy: “Nothing in my hands I bring; simply to the cross I cling. Naked, come to thee for dress; helpless look to thee for grace. Foul, I to the fountain fly; wash me, Savior, or I die.”

Being submissive to God’s will also implies that we’ve denied ourselves. This is more than practicing isolated acts of self denial. We may practice rigid self-discipline in order to get something we really want. It’s a good thing to be able to do this, to not be ruled by our own desires and whims, to be able to lay aside our immediate impulses to accomplish our long-term goals. But self-interest can motivate us to do this sort of thing, simply calculating that the benefits outweigh the disadvantages. But denying ourselves in the context of repentance means laying aside our right to be at the center of things. It means surrendering the control of our lives, giving up our right to call the shots. It means recognizing that much of our problem is our self. We spend too much time thinking about ourselves, watching ourselves, thinking about what others think of us. It’s one thing to cry out to God and say, “O God, you know that I’m a miserable sinner, that I’m self-centered, egotistical, insensitive, that everything I do revolves around my own desires.” But what if you overheard someone else praying for you in that way? Would you be grateful for their prayers? Becoming meek means that we’ve accepted the truth about ourselves and that we don’t feel the need to defend ourselves when we hear that truth from other people. We’ve denied ourselves, and we don’t feel the need to protect ourselves any longer. Our self has been dethroned. We’re not touchy and defensive about ourselves.

Alexander the Great succeeded in conquering much of the known world during his lifetime. He had been tutored by the Greek philosopher Aristotle and was gifted in many areas, besides being a great military leader. During a drinking party, his best friend, the son of his nurse, reproached him for taking all the glory for the things his soldiers had done. Alexander became enraged at this, and he grabbed a spear from one of the guards and killed him. He was immediately overcome with remorse, but it was too late to go back. His self-importance–his lack of meekness–led him, in a moment of anger, to kill his best friend.

Something similar happened in Numbers 12: “Miriam and Aaron began to talk against Moses because of his Cushite wife, for he had married a Cushite. ‘Has the Lord spoken only through Moses?’ They asked. ‘Hasn’t he also spoken through us?’ And the Lord heard this” (Numbers 12:1-2). This is very similar to what happened with Alexander the Great. Miriam and Aaron were Moses’ older siblings, and they began to criticize him for claiming too much authority. But notice the difference in what followed: “(Now Moses was a very humble man, more humble than anyone else on the face of the earth)” (v. 3). Some translations use the word “meek” here, but the point is that Moses wasn’t concerned with defending his territory. Aaron and Miriam were rebuked by God for their presumption, and then they were able to carry on. Moses didn’t fly into a rage and order them to be killed. He was meek and humble; he didn’t need to defend his honor.

Being submissive to God’s will also implies that we have a teachable spirit. We admit that we don’t know everything, and we’re willing to submit ourselves to God’s Word. When I was a new Christian I remember talking about small group Bible studies to my aunt, who had been a churchgoer for many years. She agreed that this could be a good thing as long as there wasn’t anyone teaching, “telling us what it means.” She preferred, she said, groups where everyone could just say what it means to them. That spirit had led her to reject virtually all the major doctrines of orthodox Christianity: things like the Trinity, the deity of Jesus Christ, sin and judgment, justification by faith. She didn’t have a teachable spirit. She was willing to talk about what the Bible meant to her, but she wasn’t willing to submit her will and her opinions to the authority of Scripture.

That’s the first thing. Meekness implies submission to God’s will. We’ve repented of our sinful attitude in wanting to go our own way, and we’ve determined to bring every area of our lives under God’s lordship. We’ve humbled ourselves before God and accepted His verdict about ourselves, which has led us to lay aside our desire to be first, to have our own way. We’ve repented of our self-centeredness and are asking God to occupy the throne of our lives. And we’re sitting at His feet, submitting ourselves to the authority of His Word.

But when we see ourselves in this way, it affects the way we act toward others. The way we think about ourselves, the way we perceive ourselves, will have an impact on the way we treat other people. What we think affects the way we act. The 19th Century philosopher, Friedrich Nietzsche, was the son of a Protestant pastor, but he grew to hate Christianity. He said it led to a slave morality, and he despised the ideas of repentance, denial of self, and redemption through God’s mercy and grace. Here’s something he said: “What is it that we combat in Christianity? That it aims at destroying the strong, at breaking their spirit, at exploiting their moments of weariness and debility, at converting their proud assurance into anxiety and conscience-trouble; that it knows how to poison the noblest instincts and to infect them with disease, until their strength, their will to power, turns inwards, against themselves–until the strong perish through their excessive self-contempt and self-immolation: that gruesome way of perishing, of which Pascal is the most famous example” (quoted by Bertrand Russell, in A History of Western Philosophy, p. 766). Nietzsche exalted the will to power and said that the ideal ruler would recognize the importance and value and usefulness of cruelty and wouldn’t hesitate to crush others in his exercise of power. Adolph Hitler was an admirer of Nietzsche, and his cruelty was consistent with Nietzsche’s philosophy.

In the same way, following Jesus will lead us to become like Him. Jesus is the supreme example of meekness in laying aside His rights as the eternal Second Person of the Trinity and submitting Himself to a shameful death in our place. And He expresses His gentleness toward others in His invitation at the end of Matthew 11: “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light” (Matthew 11:28-30). He is both meek and gentle.

George Verwer is the founder of Operation Mobilization, the mission group Anne and I worked with in the 70's and 80's. George, by nature, is a very driven person. He’s a strong leader, the sort of person who can lead others to do things they never would have attempted on their own. But he’s not, by nature, a gentle or meek person. He’s intent on getting things done, and he’s full of vision for reaching the world with the gospel. People like this often end up hurting other people in the process of pursuing their goals, but as George has followed Christ he’s become a very meek and gentle person. One of the mechanics I knew in Nepal was very difficult to work with. Alan had some severe emotional problems, and he often came into conflict with others. Very few people in OM were willing to work with him for any length of time. But he told me several times about George’s attempts to reach out to him and minister to him. George had heavy responsibilities for leading the work of OM, but he went out of his way to cultivate a relationship with Alan, who was often difficult and abrasive.

This emphasis on meekness and gentleness presents us with a choice between two alternatives. We either bow our wills before God’s lordship or we continue seeking to assert our own will. Nietzsche’s ideas are simply a logical result of refusing to bow before God’s authority, of proudly seeking to live as if there were no God. Nietzsche was a brilliant thinker, but he refused, over the course of a lifetime, to accept the limitations of his existence as a creature made in the image of the Creator. In January of 1889, he collapsed in the street in northern Italy and was taken to an asylum, totally insane. A short time later he was released to the care of his family and spent the last 11 years of his life needing constant help from others (who, presumably, didn’t buy into his ideas about the will to power). He never recovered his sanity. We don’t know what happened to him; it seems likely that his insanity was brought on by a syphilitic infection, but the point is that he was powerless to do anything about it. He who had made so much of the will to power spent the last 11 years of his life in a powerless condition. “But man, despite his riches, does not endure; he is like the beasts that perish. This is the fate of those who trust in themselves, and of their followers, who approve their sayings. Like sheep they are destined for the grave, and death will feed on them” (Psalm 49:12-14).

Saul of Tarsus was also a proud man. He was born a Roman citizen and was a Pharisee with a strong family heritage. He had the best education available in his day and was diligent in seeking to follow the Law. As a Pharisee, he deeply resented the teachings of these followers of Jesus, and he committed his life to exterminating them from the face of the earth. But then he met Jesus face to face, and he turned around and went in the other direction. And, near the end of his life he was able to look back and say: “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. Now there is in store for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will award to me on that day–and not only to me, but also to all who have longed for his appearing” (2 Timothy 4:7-8).

The world’s wisdom says that we need to assert ourselves and grasp for all we can. If we don’t take care of ourselves, nobody else will. Meekness and gentleness will only cause us to be run over in the real world. But the reality is that when we assert our own will and seek to live for ourselves, we lose the very thing we’re trying to get. The truth is that we are powerless. We weren’t created with the ability to live that way, and when we try, it destroys us. Those who are gentle and meek may be run over in this world, but that’s not the end of the story. As Jesus says in the second half of this verse, it is the meek who will inherit the earth.

Jesus said: “If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will find it. What good will it be for a man if he gains the whole world, yet forfeits his soul? Or what can a man give in exchange for his soul” (Matthew 16:24-26). Here’s how Jim Elliot, who died as a martyr at the age of 29, expressed this idea: “He is no fool who gives up what he cannot keep in order to gain what he cannot lose.” Which direction are you headed? Are you living for yourself, trying to get everything you can, insisting on your own way no matter what? Or are you seeking each day to lay your life before the foot of the cross, submitting your will to God? If you’re crying out to God each day for grace and mercy, you may be discouraged with the lack of meekness and gentleness in your spirit, but God is at work in ways you’re not aware of, transforming you into His image. Don’t worry about the amount of progress you’ve made; just be sure you’re headed in the right direction. As we continue to seek Jesus, spending time in His presence, we are being transformed into His image, whether we realize it or not. “And we, who with unveiled faces all reflect the Lord’s glory, are being transformed into his likeness with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit” (2 Corinthians 3:18).

Monday, January 2, 2017

The Purpose of the Law, Galatians 3:15-29

Good Shepherd Lutheran Church
State College PA
January 1, 2017

At one point in Jesus’ ministry, the people asked Him a question that was very important to them: “what must we do to perform the works of God?” “What do we need to do to become people who are pleasing to God?” And Jesus gave them a surprising answer: “This is the work of God, that you believe in him whom he has sent” (John 6:28-29). It wasn’t what they expected; it wasn’t what they were looking for, and as the discussion continued, many of His own disciples turned away and no longer followed Him. They wanted something more tangible, something they could do, that everyone could see and know that they were people who performed the works of God.

The Galatians were asking a similar question, and they were receiving a very definite answer from some teachers who had come into the area. They were asking, “what must we do to perform the works of God,” and these teachers were telling them: “be circumcised and submit to the law of Moses.” The people who questioned Jesus were looking for this sort of answer; it’s just the kind of thing they were hoping for: “If you want to perform the works of God, do this and everything will be fine.”

This question doesn’t seem as urgent to us, living in the 21st Century. We live in a very different kind of society, and “doing the works of God” is not as high on our agenda. But here’s a question we do ask: “how can I be successful?” “What do I need to do to become a success?” It really doesn’t matter what kind of success we’re concerned about: financial prosperity, personal happiness, a fulfilling career, a good reputation, or a leadership position in the church. We want to be successful; we don’t want to be failures. We want to know that our lives have counted for something. And when we come into God’s presence, very often the most pressing question on our minds is this: “what do I need to do to become successful?” That’s one reason there are so many self-help books in Christian bookstores. We want to know how to succeed in life.

Eugene Peterson makes this interesting observation: “Among the apostles, the one absolutely stunning success was Judas, and the one thoroughly groveling failure was Peter. Judas was a success in the ways that most impress us: he was successful both financially and politically. He cleverly arranged to control the money of the apostolic band; he skillfully manipulated the political forces of the day to accomplish his goal. And Peter was a failure in ways that we most dread: he was impotent in a crisis and socially inept. At the arrest of Jesus he collapsed, a hapless, blustering coward; in the most critical situations of his life with Jesus, the confession on the road to Caesarea Philippi and the vision on the Mount of Transfiguration, he said the most embarrassingly inappropriate things. He was not the companion we would want with us in time of danger, and he was not the kind of person we would feel comfortable with at a social occasion” (Traveling Light, p. 95).

The teachers at Galatia are telling the churches there how to become successful before God, but they’re off track because they don’t really understand the purpose of the law in God’s plan of redemption. They’re telling the Galatians how to become successful by using the law, when the purpose of the law is to show them their failure. The law has a place in God’s work of redemption, but it’s different than they’ve been assuming. The law, in God’s purposes, is not the main thing. God’s primary way of dealing with His people is through the promise; the purpose of the law is to show us our neediness. The purpose of the law is not to give us the secrets of success; the purpose of the law is to underscore our failure and show us our need.

Paul points out, in verses 15-18, that the promise was given long before the law. Paul was being accused of starting a new sect. The false teachers were accusing him of departing from the teaching of the Old Testament, of laying aside God’s revelation in the past. So Paul wants the Galatians to know that this is not true at all. God dealt with Abraham, the father of the Jewish people, on the basis of promise, not law. And God not only made a promise to Abraham, but to his descendants as well. The law, which was given more than 400 years later, can’t override God’s promise to Abraham and his descendants. The Judaizers who were teaching in Galatia were assuming that law is God’s primary way of dealing with His people. They had made obedience to the letter of the law the fundamental thing that defined their relationship with God. So Paul shows here that they’re off track. God’s primary way of dealing with His people is through the promise. The law can’t be the primary thing, since it was added so much later. God is faithful to His Word; when He gave the law to Moses, He wasn’t canceling out His promises to Abraham.

Why do we have binding contracts drawn up by lawyers who exercise great care trying to eliminate loopholes and escape routes? Why are so many marriages disintegrating in our society (which means that people who’ve taken a solemn vow to remain together ‘till death do us part’ have decided to lay aside their promises)? Why are so many children embittered toward their parents for promises they’ve made, but haven’t kept? We’re not faithful to our promises. We say we’re going to do something, but then we find that it’s not as easy as we expected, so we change our minds. Sometimes we fail to keep our promises though simple human weakness; we find that we’ve promised to do something that we’re unable to do. But much of the time we’re just unfaithful. God isn’t like this. He is true to His word. He’s not going to change His mind in the future, and He’s not going to be hindered by weakness in the way we are. God began His work of redemption with a promise to Abraham and his descendants. When He gave the law, 400 years later, it wasn’t that He said to Himself, “well, I can see that this isn’t working; I’d better try something else.” The law doesn’t cancel out the promise in that way. God’s fundamental way of dealing with people in this fallen world is through the promise.

There’s a reason God doesn’t deal with us through the law. Paul makes this point in verses 19-22: “if a law had been given that could impart life, then righteousness would certainly have come by the law.” The problem is that the law can’t impart life. But the problem is not with the law. The problem is with us: “What, then, was the purpose of the law? It was added because of transgressions.... But the scripture declares that the whole world is a prisoner of sin.” The law can’t give us life, because we are sinners; we’re people who are guilty of violating the law. The law can’t save us, because we’ve broken it.

Suppose we could take hold of ourselves and begin faithfully obeying the law from now on until the end of our lives. That’s the idea of legalism: we save ourselves by faithfully observing the law, without any lapses, until we stand before the judgement seat of Christ. Well, suppose we could do that. Would it do any good? We’ve already broken the law, so what we’re hoping is that our obedience in the future will outweigh our disobedience in the past. But the law doesn’t give us that hope. The law condemns us as sinners. The law shows us how many times we’ve failed to keep it. Even if we obey more than we disobey over the course of a lifetime, the law calls us to account for our disobedience. There’s no provision in the law that says “five acts of obedience cancel out one sin.” And, of course, the problem is not only with past sins. No matter how hard we try, we continue to fail in our attempts to obey the law. When we try to save ourselves by obeying the law, we only lead ourselves into deeper condemnation. The law is always there to show us how many times we’ve failed to keep it. Martin Luther discovered this; he was diligent in trying to do everything he could to live in obedience, but he ended up coming to the point where he said he hated God and saw Him as an impossible taskmaster.

So, what is the purpose of the law? If it was given so much later than the promise, and if it’s unable to rescue us from our sinful condition, why did God give it at all? Paul explains this in verses 23-25: “Before this faith came, we were held prisoners by the law, locked up until faith should be revealed. So the law was put in charge to lead us to Christ that we might be justified by faith.” The purpose of the law is to lead us to Christ.

Paul uses an interesting word to describe the law’s function: “He calls the law a custodian: ‘The law was our custodian until Christ came.’ The meaning of the Greek word paidagogos that lies behind the English word custodian often loses something in translation. Greek families that were well enough off to have slaves chose one of them, usually an old and trusted slave, to be in charge of their child or children from the ages of six to sixteen. This custodian went with the child to school to see that no harm or mischief came to him. He was not the schoolmaster. He had nothing to do with the actual teaching of the child. It was only his duty to take him safely to the school and deliver him to the teacher. That, says Paul, is how the law works: it delivers us to the place of faith, to Christ” (Peterson, Traveling Light, pp. 104-105). This idea comes across clearly in The Message: “Until the time when we were mature enough to respond freely in faith to the living God, we were carefully surrounded and protected by the Mosaic law. The law was like those Greek tutors, with which you are familiar, who escort children to school and protect them from danger or distraction, making sure the children will really get to the place they set out for.” The purpose of the law is to keep us oriented to God, and to point out our need, our failure, which points us to our need of grace and mercy through Jesus Christ. The purpose of the law is to lead us to faith in Christ.

Maybe you’re not asking the question, “what must I do to work the works of God.” If you’re like many today, you’re far more interested in learning how to live successfully. Here are some phrases from church advertisements I’ve seen: “What if there was a church... where... real life issues are discussed?” “Real life issues,” not all that religious stuff that most churches talk about. “At [our church] we believe that finding real answers for life’s toughest problems is important” (and the context of this phrase makes it clear that they’re talking about the practical “how-to's” of ordering our lives successfully). This same church advertised a new sermon series: “How to Succeed at the Speed of Life.”

The message of the gospel is not “how to succeed.” The message of the gospel is “you’ve already failed in more ways than you know, and you’re going to fail again in the future (and you’ll fail even more if you try to do anything worthwhile), but God in His mercy has provided for this. Listen to the law, and acknowledge the truth about yourself, then come to Jesus Christ to receive mercy and grace. Trying to pretend that you’re a success (either at obeying the law or at having all of life figured out) will lead only to bondage.” The Galatians were being told how to be successful in God’s sight, and it was leading them into bondage. The free life of the gospel is a life lived in recognition of the truth about ourselves.

Eugene Peterson sums it up like this: “There we live by faith and failure, by faith and forgiveness, by faith and mercy, by faith and freedom. We do not live successfully. Success imprisons. Success is an unbiblical burden stupidly assumed by prideful persons who reject the risks and perils of faith, preferring to appear right rather than to be human” (p. 106). People who are obsessed with success are also inordinately concerned with appearances. Too often how we appear is more important than the truth of what we are.

In the middle of the 20th century, A.W. Tozer made this observation: “Much that passes for Christianity today is the brief bright effort of the severed branch to bring forth its fruit in its season. But the deep laws of life are against it. Preoccupation with appearances and a corresponding neglect of the out-of-sight root of the true spiritual life are prophetic signs which go unheeded. Immediate ‘results’ are all that matter, quick proofs of present success without a thought of next week or next year. Religious pragmatism is running wild among the orthodox. Truth is whatever works. If it gets results it is good. There is but one test for the religious leader: success. Everything is forgiven him except failure” (The Root of the Righteous, pp. 8-9).

The Corinthian church was full of pride. They were a “successful” church. So Paul decided to remind them of the truth: “Take a good look, friends, at who you were when you got called into this life. I don’t see many of ‘the brightest and the best’ among you, not many influential, not many from high-society families. Isn’t it obvious that God deliberately chose men and women that the culture overlooks and exploits and abuses, chose these ‘nobodies’ to expose the hollow pretensions of the ‘somebodies’? That makes it quite clear that none of you can get by with blowing your own horn before God. Everything that we have – right thinking and right living, a clean slate and a fresh start – comes from God by way of Jesus Christ. That’s why we have the saying, ‘If you’re going to blow a horn, blow a trumpet for God” (1 Corinthians 1:26-31, The Message). We’re not successes, and when we pretend otherwise we dishonor God. God is glorified when we acknowledge the truth. God’s way of redemption is to lead us to salvation in Jesus Christ by first showing us our failure to keep the law.

“This is the work of God, that you believe in him whom he has sent” (John 6:28-29). “There we live by faith and failure, by faith and forgiveness, by faith and mercy, by faith and freedom.” The law brings us into bondage, whether it’s the Mosaic law or a current Evangelical law about how to live a successful and happy middle class American life. Life in this world is full of sorrow and failure. Our vision of the Christian life needs to be in touch with this reality, and the foundation of our Christian lives is this: God has dealt with us, not as successes, but as failures. God knows all the truth about us. We don’t need to pretend. The law condemns us, but it doesn’t leave us in a state of condemnation; it leads us to a life of freedom in the grace of Jesus Christ. That’s the most fundamental reality of our lives as Christians. It’s not that we’ve learned the secret of living successfully. It’s that we’ve been reconciled to God and are in a relationship with Him which begins in this life and will continue throughout eternity.