Thinking Christian

I love it when two news items flow into one another virtually unawares. Chuck Colson wrote this morning:

Chinese scholars were asked to “look into what accounted for the success, in fact, the pre-eminence of the West all over the world.” After considering possible military, economic, political and cultural explanations, they concluded that the answer lay in what the Chinese scholars saw as the “heart” of the West’s pre-eminent culture: Christianity.

This comes in interesting conjunction with an NPR story SteveK brought to our attention yesterday: “In the land of Mao, rising tide of Christianity among Chinese.”

Some recent surveys have calculated there could be as many as 100 million Chinese Protestants. That would mean that China has more Christians than Communist Party members, which now number 75 million….

“In China, a lot of so-called atheists treat money as their God,” storms* the young man who is preaching to the gathered crowd. “But only in God’s truth can you find real freedom.”

As Colson also wrote in that same piece,

Still, it’s a powerful reminder of how Christianity transforms not only individual lives but entire societies as well.

For a more extended version of the Chinese scholars’ conclusions see here.

*Having spent more than two months in China, I find the image of a young Chinese man “storming” to a crowd amusingly difficult to conjure up. I could be wrong; two months isn’t that long. Still, it sounds to me like reporter-speak for impassioned preaching.

The other day I ran across some guidance on reading the Bible. Going through long passages in one sitting—as in reading through the Bible in a year—is a Bad Way to do it, it said. We must read and study short passages; for it takes unhurried, in-depth meditation to really hear what God is saying to us.

Now I see Christianity Today bemoaning our general ignorance of the flow of biblical history. Knowing the entire context is important. It would appear that reading through the whole Bible isn’t such a bad idea after all.

Is there a wrong way to read Scripture? Sure. If we approach it perfunctorily, prayerlessly, without willingness to submit to God’s authority through his Word, then we’re probably wasting our time or worse (although God could break through and reach us even at that). Otherwise, I don’t know of any Bad Way to read the Bible.

Except one: not reading it at all.

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A guided exploration of the greatness of God, unlike other podcasts I’ve done, in that it’s not a talk I gave before a group. It is instead a meditation, intended for contemplation and worship—and to stretch your thinking about the greatness of God. You won’t want to listen to it in your car, but someplace more relaxed than that.

Why did Jesus come? In his own words (Luke 12:49-53, cf. Matthew 10:34-35):

“I came to cast fire on the earth, and would that it were already kindled! I have a baptism to be baptized with, and how great is my distress until it is accomplished! Do you think that I have come to give peace on earth? No, I tell you, but rather division. For from now on in one house there will be five divided, three against two and two against three. They will be divided, father against son and son against father, mother against daughter and daughter against mother, mother-in-law against her daughter-in-law and daughter-in-law against mother-in-law.”

We have seen earlier in this series that Jesus came to free us, to give his life for us, to rescue us, to give us life. All of these are true, and on the surface they fit into the domesticated vision of Jesus that is so common today. One hears of multi-reigious gatherings “in the spirit of Jesus,” which typically seems to mean, in the spirit of love (and often, justice for the oppressed) that he taught and exemplified.

If I may quote myself from earlier in this series, though,

If, however, that’s all you think of when you think of Jesus, pause a moment and ask yourself this. If that one-dimensional view of him were true, would he have proved to be the single most significant figure in all of human history, as he has? We’ll continue to look at why Jesus came, and we’ll see that the picture is nowhere near that simple. Not even close.

It’s time to complicate that picture. He came to “cast fire,” not to give peace but rather division, to set families against each other. How does that fit with “the spirit of Jesus?” In his trial before Pontius Pilate he states his purpose for coming (John 18:33-38); and this may help us to understand the fire he casts:

So Pilate entered his headquarters again and called Jesus and said to him, “Are you the King of the Jews?” Jesus answered, “Do you say this of your own accord, or did others say it to you about me?” Pilate answered, “Am I a Jew? Your own nation and the chief priests have delivered you over to me. What have you done?” Jesus answered, “My kingdom is not of this world. If my kingdom were of this world, my servants would have been fighting, that I might not be delivered over to the Jews. But my kingdom is not from the world.” Then Pilate said to him, “So you are a king?” Jesus answered, “You say that I am a king. For this purpose I was born and for this purpose I have come into the world—to bear witness to the truth. Everyone who is of the truth listens to my voice.” Pilate said to him, “What is truth?”

This is the only place recorded where Jesus used the term, “for this purpose I have come;” and he emphasized it by stating it twice. He came to bear witness to the truth. As Del Tackett of the Truth Project observes, the reason he was bearing witness to the truth is because truth itself was on trial (cf. John 14:6). “Everyone who is of the truth listens to my voice,” said Jesus. Implied: those who are not of the truth do not listen. Pilate asked his poignant question in response, and then walked away. He did not listen; he was not of the truth.

There is a dividing line, and it is the line of truth. Peace, joy and love are of the Lord. Justice for the oppressed is certainly of the Lord. Mercy is certainly of the Lord. So are patience, hope, kindness, and faithfulness. But they are only of the Lord as they express his truth, his way, and his life; for not all expressions of religion, and not all apparent acts of righteousness, are true in God’s eyes.

Everyone who is of the truth listens to Jesus’ voice. He speaks to all who will listen, but some will not, though it is never too late for them to change their minds. I do not want to be misunderstood here. There is a dividing line, even within families, as Jesus so forcefully phrased it; but it is not between bad people and good people. It is between people who need freedom, forgiveness and rescue and have not accepted it as Jesus offers; and people who need freedom, forgiveness, and rescue and have embraced it. Those who refuse it embrace a lie instead.

Why did Jesus come? In this series I have only examined passages where he himself spoke to that question. This does not comprise the whole story. It is one focused look at his purposes. He came, he said, to free us, to bring forth righteousness, to give his life for us, to rescue us, to bring us true life, and for many most surprisingly, to bring division on the earth, which I believe revolves around his other purpose, his bearing witness to the truth.

There is another sense in which the dividing line is Jesus Christ himself. Men and women are separated in families and in nations over him; not because he separates them, but because we separate ourselves. We choose where we will stand in relation to him. It is a most momentous choice, for he is the most momentous of persons.

Why did Jesus come? In his own words (John 10:10),

The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life and have it abundantly.

This Easter morning we celebrate life—abundant life—once again. He came to give his life for us, but he came to become the victor over death, the firstborn from among the dead, the resurrected one who opens the way to life for all.

This is not the end of the series, Why Did Jesus Come, (there is more yet to write) but it is certainly the triumphant climax, as Easter is for all of history until he comes again.

To all who are following him into this abundant life, I wish you a very Happy Easter. To those who are wondering about him, questioning whether to follow him, I urge you to join him in his victory. It can be yours as well—and Happy Easter to you, too! For those who deny his life, I urge you to reconsider him with your own life in view. His resurrection was for you. Yours can be a Happy Easter, too, not just as a nice Sunday with bunnies and candies, but with the richest of all renewals, the entrance into new life.

Why did Jesus come? In his own words,

For the Son of Man came to seek and to save the lost.

I have come into the world as light, so that whoever believes in me may not remain in darkness. 47 If anyone hears my words and does not keep them, I do not judge him; for I did not come to judge the world but to save the world.

(Luke 19:10, John 12:46-47)

The word “save” is perfectly accurate and correct in this context, but for many it has turned gooey-religious and lost its meaning. We’ve seen the signs so often proclaiming “Jesus saves;” but the signs don’t say what he saves from. Would-be wits have scribbled “at First National Bank” on the signs. You have to credit them for at least offering some kind of conclusion—albeit a wrong one—to the sentence.

The sentence is grammatically complete: “saves” can be used as an intransitive verb with no direct object. There was a time when it was semantically complete, too, because readers, knowing what it was about, would have filled in the rest of the thought in their minds. That’s no longer true. The “Jesus saves” signs still dot the countryside, though, lacking in the meaning they once held. “Jesus saves” has unfortunately become, for many readers, a phrase without meaning.

So let us fill in the gaps. The quotes above refer to being lost, to darkness, and to judgment. To be lost (in the everyday sense, not the spiritual sense) is to be away from home, safety, and connection with loved ones, not knowing how to find the way back. It is a condition of helplessness. Sure, it’s possible to be “lost” and not be completely helpless (ask any man who has wondered where he was on a road trip), if one can find guides and cues to find one’s way back. Still, that’s consistent with what Jesus is saying here. When you’re lost, you need help.

To be lost and in darkness at the same time is to be in difficulty multiplied. In the summer of 1977 I worked as a stage hand at the Interlochen Music Camp near Traverse City, Michigan. All the stage crew, 22 men, shared one cabin there. The very first night, I had to get up in the middle of the night to “use the euphemism,” as one of my fellow stage crew members liked to say it. It was dark. I mean, really, really dark. I could see nothing. I didn’t know where a flashlight was, and I wasn’t about to try to find a light switch with 21 other people sleeping there. I was new to the place, so I had little guidance by way of memory or experience. I don’t know how long it took, but sure seemed like a long time before I finally found my way where I needed to be. Now, in the grand scheme of things it was a very short experience and really quite inconsequential. I was in no danger. Still, the sense of near-helplessness was unforgettable. I can hardly imagine being really lost, out in the elements, with predators around, in absolute darkness.

The difficulty goes exponential, though, if one is not just lost in darkness, but also under judgment. What comes to mind here is solitary confinement. I toured Alcatraz Island once—it was a prison island years ago, but now it’s open for visitors. The tour includes the opportunity to be shut in solitary for a few seconds. That was long enough for me. If I had actually deserved to be there in the judgment of some court, it wouldn’t have been over so soon.

This is what Jesus came to rescue us from. “Rescue” means the same as “save,” but I’m hoping a different word choice will cut through the religious numbness many readers experience in connection with the word “saves.” We stand under judgment for rebellion against God. Our rebellion (sin) has put us in darkness: we cannot see ourselves for who we are in reality; and we especially cannot see God for who he really is. And we cannot find our own way out. Without help—without a rescuer—we are doomed to die that way. We’re locked in solitary forever.

But here is the astonishing mystery of God’s grace and love: though we have rebelled against him, he still loves us (Romans 5:6-11):

For while we were still weak, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly. For one will scarcely die for a righteous person—though perhaps for a good person one would dare even to die—but God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us. Since, therefore, we have now been justified by his blood, much more shall we be saved by him from the wrath of God. For if while we were enemies we were reconciled to God by the death of his Son, much more, now that we are reconciled, shall we be saved by his life. More than that, we also rejoice in God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have now received reconciliation.

“Reconciliation” here is another of the many terms the Bible gives for getting un-lost; coming back home, as it were, to the One who loves us and with whom we were meant to live in a relationship of deep love and grace. The “blood” of Jesus mentioned here is a reference to his death on the cross for us (see also here), and “justified” means something approximately like being acquitted, not having to bear guilt, being released from judgment and God’s just anger toward rebellion against his goodness and his dominion.

This, then, is the story of what Jesus came to rescue us from.

Why did Jesus come? In his own words:

But whoever would be great among you must be your servant, and whoever would be first among you must be your slave, even as the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many. (Matthew 10:26-28; cf. Mark 10:45).

Praying just before his trial, and the death he knew he would soon die, he said,

Now is my soul troubled. And what shall I say? ‘Father, save me from this hour’? But for this purpose I have come to this hour.

Today is Good Friday, commemorating Jesus’ death on the Cross. The question that used to bother me was, “What was good about Jesus dying?” But if he came for that purpose, there must have been something good in it, even though it troubled his soul to see it coming. Part of the answer is in 1 Peter 2:24:

He himself bore our sins in his body on the tree, that we might die to sin and live to righteousness. By his wounds you have been healed.

We deserve death for our sins. We live in a kind of death, a spiritual death or separation from God, even as we walk and talk and breathe; and physical death finalizes that separation. It is because of our rebellion toward God, expressed either in apathy or in acts of outright insurrection against his good and holy character. Jesus Christ paid the penalty of death on our behalf, carrying our sins on the cross (“the tree”) to the point of death. By his woulds we are healed—those who will look to Jesus and say, “I know I needed that. Thank you. I will accept your payment on my behalf.” That’s about all it takes.