Everything is Free

"God is continually providing you with the Spirit as a free gift and continually working deeds of power among you. Does he do it because you do what the law commands or because you believe the message that you hear? That was exactly Abraham’s position; he believed God, and his belief was regarded as righteousness" (Galatians 3:5,6). 

Back in my sermon-making days I often approached Sunday morning feeling like Lowly Worm. The week had not gone well: I had not been a good husband, father, or friend. I felt I needed to prove myself to be approved, earn a few points for good behavior, establish a track record of righteousness before God could use me again. I planned to get through the morning sermon as best I could and try to do better next week. 

No, here it’s said that God lavishly, continually supplies us with his Holy Spirit and works powerfully through us as a free gift, and not because we've ever done anything, will do anything, or could do anything to deserve it.

Abraham is Example A. He was a awful husband, if you want my opinion, twice putting Sarah's life in jeopardy by lying to save his own skin. Yet his "faith was regarded as righteousness." Abraham put himself in God’s hands despite his frequent failures and God used him to bring salvation to the world.

There's no justification for being a bad person. Jesus has asked us to follow him in obedience and he supplies the means to do so. Repentance is always in order when we fail to be what Jesus has called us to be. A hard, unrepentant heart will always hinder his purposes for us, but our ability to do “powerful deeds" is not predicated on a lengthy pattern of good behavior. It's based solely on our Lord's willingness to work through us, as we are, a basket of deplorables, saved and sanctified solely by grace.

It's all of grace now. You don't have to work for it. Everything is free.

David Roper

5.5.19

Forgetting the Things Behind

"Anyone whom you forgive, I also forgive. Indeed, what I have forgiven, if I have forgiven anything, has been for your sake in the presence of Christ, so that we would not be outwitted by Satan; for we are not ignorant of his devises" (2 Corinthians 2:10,11).

"if I have forgiven anything..." A casual aside, almost a throw-away line, that we're likely to miss if we're not paying attention. 

Here's the backstory...

Certain folks in Corinth had mocked Paul's lack of sermonic  polish and savoire-faire (2 Corinthians 10:10 et. al.) Their critique must have cut Paul to the quick. He was their spiritual father and cared deeply for them (1 Corinthians 4:14). 

But Paul had learned not to waste time over hurt feelings. He forgave and readily forgot their critique. "Whatever I’ve forgiven," he writes... and then he racks his brain. "If I have anything to forgive..." He couldn't  remember!

This wasn't dementia; it was godly behavior: God forgets what he forgives (Hebrews 10:17). What Paul forgave he also forgot. 

Forgetting is not a matter of "not thinking about it." It's actually impossible to suppress unwelcome thoughts. (It was Tolstoy, I think, who envisioned a club in which initiates were required to stand in a corner and not think of a white rabbit.) Research in memory suppression suggests that while one part of our brain is trying to tamp down a memory, another part "checks in" occasionally to make sure the thought is not coming back up and simultaneously brings it to mind.

We can‘t stop the initial memory of a troubling event—the thought that pops into our head—but we can refuse to consolidate the memory by rumination. Every time we rehearse a troubling event, we strengthen the memory and the emotions associated with it. Our indignation and anger grow, we become adrenalized again and the event becomes even more deeply imbedded in our memories. 

A moment's thought reveals the truth of that principle. How do we imprint thoughts we want to remember—a poem for example? By repetition."Repetitio est mater studiorum” (“Repetition is the mother of learning”) is an old Latin proverb.

"Disremembering" begins by refusing to recycle the memory of an unpleasant event, turning it over and over in our minds (I admit to some perverse pleasure in that practice) and redirecting our angry, bitter thoughts to prayer and thoughts that are "true, honorable, just, pure, lovely, commendable, morally excellent, and worthy of praise" (Philippians 4:8). 

Think about these things, Paul would say, and leave your angry and anxious thoughts behind. (Though I think Paul had something else in mind, it may be helpful to think those thoughts about the person who wronged us. Did not Jesus say we should bless those who curse us?)

Bottom line, when we cling to injustice and turn it over and over in our minds we may—like Charles Dickens' Miss Havisham—freeze our bitterness for all time, imprint it on our souls and on our faces. We will have played into Satan's hands (2:11).  

David Roper

Basket Case

"Frankly, I don’t care for spiritual power much myself. I’ve gotten along much better with spiritual weakness" (G.K. Chesterton, Father Brown).

A few weeks ago I mentioned my most embarrassing moment—a brain-fade on an auspicious occasion. This morning I read Paul's account of his most embarrassing moment:

“If I must boast, I will boast of the things that show my weakness. The God and Father of the Lord Jesus, he who is blessed forever, knows that I am not lying. At Damascus, the governor under King Aretas was guarding the city of Damascus in order to seize me, but I was let down in a basket through a window in the wall and escaped his hands" (2 Corinthians 11:30-33).

Paul arrived in Damascus, a newly minted Christian, expecting to set the church on fire. After years of persecuting Christians Paul was now on God's side, God's greatest gift (sans One) to the church. With Paul's vast education, intellectual brilliance, and oratorical skill he could greatly advance the cause of Christ.

Instead of a revival, Paul precipitated a riot. The folks there agreed that they had to get Paul out of town before he caused irreparable damage to the church and, under cover of darkness, put him in a foul-smelling fish basket, lowered him from a window in the wall of the city, and sent him packing (c.f., Acts 9:25). This was Paul's most humiliating moment.

But, this was also the moment in which he took the most pride, a memory that kept him in touch with his limitations. This is the night Paul learned to "boast in the Lord," and not in his own prowess.

"Our sufficiency is of God," Paul wrote in another occasion. If we expect to get anything done for God it will be through weakness and not through strength. That's why God, though he could have chosen anyone, has chosen the foolish, the inept, the improbable,  the impossible—a bunch of basket-cases, if you will—to get his work done.

Which is why he has chosen you and me.

David Roper

6.1.19

Aslan’s Tears

“Jesus wept.” —John 11:35

Digory, standing before the lion, Aslan, thought of his terminally ill Mother. A lump came to his throat and tears to his eyes, and he blurted out, “But please, please—won’t you—can’t you give me something that will cure Mother?” 

Up till then he had been looking at the Lion’s great feet and the huge claws on them; now, in his despair, he looked up at its face. What he saw surprised him as much as anything in his whole life. For the tawny face was bent down near his own and (wonder of wonders) great shining tears stood in the Lion’s eyes. They were such big, bright tears compared with Digory’s own that for a moment he felt as if the Lion must really be sorrier about his Mother than he was himself. 'My son, my son,' said Asian. 'I know. Grief is great. Only you and I in this land know that yet. Let us be good to one another.'"[1]

I think of Jesus' tears at Lazarus' grave. He “sobbed.” He wept for Lazarus, for Mary and Martha, and he weeps for your. Grief is great. Aslan knows. He will be good to you.

And, lest we forget, those we meet today have their own share of grief to bear. Grief is great. Let us be good to one another.

David Roper

4.30.19

---

[1]C. S. Lewis’ The Magician's Nephew

The Alchemy of Grace

"(We are very bold), unlike Moses, who put a veil over his face so the children of Israel could not look steadily at the end of what was passing away" (2 Corinthians 3:13.)

Moses descended from Mount Sinai, his face suffused with beauty, a beauty so splendid that it bewildered his friends. So he placed a veil over his face to spare them. 

Paul, however, noted something in the text that others had missed: Moses kept the veil on his face after the glory had faded away. He was faking it. 

That's the problem with trying to keep a law of any kind. We can't keep up the effort and so must fake it. Self-effort makes us hypocrites in the end. 

There's a better way: "We all, with unveiled face, beholding the glory (beauty) of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory (beauty) to another. For this comes from the Lord who is the Spirit" (2 Corinthians. 3:18).

Paul says that we all are being transformed.” No one is too far lost and too far gone. 

We all are being transformed,” a passive verb. Change is not through self-effort but through the agency of Another. (You only have to ask Him.) 

"We all are being transformed" (metamorphoô), a Greek verb from which we take our English noun "metamorphosis," a word that suggests that magical process by which ugly, repulsive grubs are transformed into beautiful butterflies. This is the alchemy of grace. 

David Roper

The Lord is at Hand

“Let your moderation be known to all men; the Lord is at hand.” (Philippians 4:5)

I have a friend who always reads the last chapter first when she starts a new thriller.  “Takes the anxiety out of reading,” she claims. So with us: If we know the end of the story, we can be centers of peace in the midst of utter chaos, calm in the face of disaster. 

Paul calls that attitude, “moderation”—a term that’s difficult to translate into English, but one that implies an easy-going demeanor. It refers to the calm and deliberate strength with which we meet the disquieting circumstances of our days. Kingdoms may fall, friends and spouses may falter, churches may fold, the wrong party may win the next election, the globe may warm up, the oceans may rise and cities may crumble into the sea, but we can be at peace.

And how do we maintain such composure? By remembering that, “the Lord is at hand. At any moment our Lord may burst through the door and turn everything right side up. Then this world and all its troubles will become the kingdom of our Lord, and the earth will be filled with the knowledge of His glory as the waters cover the sea. 

Jesus said it could happen very soon! Today could be the day! It’s the very last thing he said, in the very last chapter of the Bible (Revelation 22:20). Last words, as they say, are lasting words.  

There’s an old saying: “If you can keep your head when others are losing theirs, you don’t understand the situation.” There’s another saying that’s equally true: “If you can keep your head when others are losing theirs, you do understand the situation.” You’ve read the last chapter in the book!

David Roper

4.24.19

Playing the Fool

“God resists the proud but gives grace to the humble” (James 4:6).

My most humiliating experience EVER was the day I addressed the faculty, students, board members and friends of my seminary on the occasion of the fifty-year anniversary of its founding. I had been asked to speak on the subject: “What We Can Expect From Our Culture In The Next Ten Years.” Why they asked me to speak on that topic I will never know. I’m not a prophet, nor am I the son of a prophet. 

I approached the lectern that morning with my manuscript in   hand and looked out on a sea of a thousand or more friendly faces, but my eye then fell on a row of distinguished professors seated on the front row, garbed in academic capes and gowns and looking very serious. I immediately took leave of my senses. 

My mouth dried up and detached itself from my brain. I fumbled the first few sentences of my lecture and then for some inexplicable reason, I began to extemporize. Then, since, I had no idea where I was in the manuscript, I began to turn pages frantically, looking for my place, while talking a line of nonsense that baffled everyone. The perigee came when one of my professors put his pen and notepad away and closed his eyes. I hoped against hope that he was praying for me.

Somehow, I made it through the rest of the lecture, crept back to my chair, sat down in it (though I wanted to crawl under it) and stared at the floor. The emcee got up and mumbled, “That was….um…an interesting example of…um…exposition.”  

I wanted to die. 

I must say, however that humiliation is good for the soul if it leads us to humble ourselves, for humility is the key that opens God’s heart. He himself has said, “This is the man to whom I look, he that is humble and contrite in spirit, and who trembles at my word” (Isaiah 66:2). God resists the proud, but he cannot resist the humble. He showers them with grace. 

Humiliation and shame bring us to God for his shaping. When we fall, we have fallen into his hands. 

David Roper

4.21.19