Sermons

“WALKING TREES"


TEXT:  MARK 8: 22-26  NRSV

22 They came to Bethsaida. Some people brought a blind man to him and begged him to touch him. 23 He took the blind man by the hand and led him out of the village; and when he had put saliva on his eyes and laid his hands on him, he asked him, “Can you see anything?” 24 And the man looked up and said, “I can see people, but they look like trees, walking.” 25 Then Jesus laid his hands on his eyes again; and he looked intently and his sight was restored, and he saw everything clearly. 26 Then he sent him away to his home, saying, “Do not even go into the village.”

TWO-TOUCH HEALING

Before coming to the little fishing village of Bethsaida, where the Jordan River feeds into the Sea of Galilee, Jesus had been confronted by the Pharisees, who demanded a sign of power to prove himself. Jesus says, “In no way will you be given a sign,” and he leaves in a boat with his disciples. 

In Bethsaida, the people of the village brought to him a blind man and begged Jesus to heal him. 

 Why did they beg for the healing? There’s more than one possible reason: 

They, like the Pharisees before, also wanted a sign of power. They may not have been Pharisees, but perhaps they too—having heard about Jesus—wanted Him to prove his authority by showing them His access to Heaven’s power. But if this were true, wouldn’t Jesus refuse to do the healing on the same grounds as with the Pharisees? Or maybe Jesus was okay with doing such signs for common folk, but not for the high and mighty self-righteous leaders?

A better reading is that this was Jesus’ deep compassion at work. He saw how much this man meant to the people, and he took pity on the man. 

Jesus takes pity on the man more than the village, for he does not give them the show they may have been hoping for. Rather, he takes the man by the hand and leads him out of the village. Why didn’t the people follow? Mark is full of accounts where the crowds follow Jesus everywhere and are difficult to get away from, so what is different here? We have to assume that they were simply told not to follow. 

Perhaps the Disciples were told to stay with the crowd, maybe one or two went with Jesus and the blind man. 

It says that Jesus put saliva on the man’s eyes and laid hands on him. These may have been standard medical practices of the day in line with the beliefs of His contemporary culture. Several Roman writers and Jewish rabbis considered saliva to be a valid treatment for blindness. Since the people of that day had a high view of saliva’s healing properties, Jesus’ use of saliva would have communicated His intention to heal. Those being healed would have naturally interpreted Jesus’ method as a sign that He was doing the work of healing. 

Jesus asks the man if he can see anything. He answers, “I see people, but they look like trees walking.” 

Who were the walking trees? If they had left the village, who was there to be seen walking around like trees? Could it have been passers-by? Perhaps, but who would walk past the scene of someone healing a blind man? Travelers would have stopped to watch. It seems likely that a few Disciples would have gone with them. Evidently this man knew what trees looked like, so like last week’s healing, he is one who had once been sighted but since lost it. If he had been born blind, he wouldn’t know what trees look like, or what walking around looks like, would he? 

“Then Jesus laid his hands on his eyes again. the man looked intently and his sight was restored, and he saw everything clearly.” 

Those of us who have been to an ophthalmologist can see Jesus in that role. “Can you see? How’s this look? How’s this?” And can’t you just see him squinting and blinking, moving his head around, peering intently, to make sense of his world again? But this man isn’t getting glasses; he is being completely healed, fully restored. 

The man is healed, but Jesus tells him to go straight home—don’t even go back into the village. It seems Jesus wants to avoid any kind of spotlight for his miracle. He doesn’t want to call attention to himself. Rather, by sending the man home, He and his disciples can get away before the news hits the local headlines. They leave immediately, walking north to Caesarea Philippi.

WALKING TREES

What a strange story! This would have been an utterly run-of-the-mill healing story were it not for one remarkable detail: Jesus had to touch the man twice! Why? 

The story as we expect it: Jesus takes the man aside, touches his eyes, and the man’s sight is restored. He jumps up, praising God, and returns to the village praising the Lord for this miracle. But that’s not the story. 

Jesus touches the man, but he sees people who look like trees walking around. What a strange world—a world of walking trees. What is weirdest about this story is that Jesus’ first touch was not enough to do the trick. That is weird. We would think that the moment Jesus intended the man to have sight, he would have sight. The saliva, the  hands on, the mud—all of these were unnecessary except for the good of the patient who thereby knew he was being worked upon. Jesus didn’t need those gestures, did he? Of course not. So why did he use them and why didn’t his touch automatically bring the man to total and complete restoration? 

This story is for us. It says something to us about the condescension of God into the world of flesh; and it says something about the connection between what God alone can do, what we can do, and how God works along with us and within us. 

THE GIFT OF STORY

This story is a gift to us. It shows us that our healing is often a process. Our growth isn’t reducible to a single, momentary event, and we may require more than one touch for God’s work to be complete in us. It seems Jesus goes out of His way to show us that this is true. 

Yes, Jesus could have healed the man instantly. There’s no doubt about this, so we have to ask why Jesus gives us this partial-before-complete healing? I’ll say it is to show us that wholeness comes in time. Our conversion from blindness to sightedness is a process more than a single moment.

Yes, there are key moments—turnaround moments, moments of illumination, and new awareness—but these are all baby steps on faith’s long, marathon walk. 

That this man requires Jesus to touch him a second time says more about us than it does about Jesus. While we can do nothing to heal ourselves—all power comes from Christ alone—we yet have a role to play in relationship to Christ our all-powerful healer. 

This text suggests that our coming to faith—our path from lost to found—is not an intellectual quest, but a relational one. As such, our conversion is the process by which a bad relationship becomes a good one. Specifically, our bad relationship with God is transformed into a life-giving one. 

Everyone has a relationship with God, even atheists, and apostates. There is no such thing as living in this world and not having a relationship of some kind with God. People can deny that relationship but that doesn’t make God go away. Because God is real, we walk in relationship to God whether we like it or not. 

We are all born in a bad relationship with God. It’s called fallenness, or sin. We have a necessary distance from God. The relationship is made worse by the goodness and holiness of God because we embody neither goodness nor holiness in our natural self, so God is terrifying—He is an angry judge ready to dispense His justice against our sin—and we sinners hate that. So we ignore Him or pretend He doesn’t exist rather than acknowledging that He is God and worshipping Him alone. 

We need a transformed relationship, and that is what we call metanoia—conversion. 

HOW WE ARE CONVERTED

To ask the basic question How does a person receive the salvation of God? is to open a can of worms, for many different traditions count these steps differently and with different emphases. Without going into all the differences, I’d like to highlight the core and leave the nit-picking out, if just for today. 

I’m going to use just three terms: Justification, Regeneration, and Sanctification. 

Earlier this year, as we studied Romans 8, we came across a short list of God’s actions in saving us. Romans 8: 29-30: 

 For those whom he foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the image of his Son, in order that he might be the firstborn within a large family. And those whom he predestined he also called; and those whom he called he also justified; and those whom he justified he also glorified. 

Most denominations have put these into a very particular, prescriptive line. You can divide some denominations out by how they line these different aspects.  We could line it up just so and say, “This is how people come to be saved!”, but I don’t think Paul is being strictly prescriptive here. The work of the Spirit in choosing us, calling us, and opening our eyes is mysterious. Sometimes the steps go in a strange order or, as in today’s text, need to be revisited twice or more in order for them to take. I would propose that we should not think of them as linear steps, but rather as overlapping circles, for depending upon the person, God’s call, and history, these things may line up differently for different people, and that’s fine. 

Justification

The offer of God’s acceptance in spite of unacceptability. Brokenness, fallenness, sinfulness, selfishness. God’s love for sinners shown in Christ. Christ taking the wrath of God for sin upon Himself. 

This is the basic gospel—that God has acted on our behalf through Christ. Sin and alienation from God have been conquered by Christ and we can live in newness of life with God and with one another as a result.

Salvation comes through hearing the Word. We do not purchase it, subscribe to it, or do anything else to enact or activate it—it is done—we are to receive it by faith, which means we do not turn the  act of receiving into a good work which saves us. 

The best of the good news is that we as saved sinners receive our salvation in Christ with utter passivity. We are rescued, period. But grace can be difficult for many to receive, so they make up little games or souvenirs to cling to instead of simply trusting in the promise of God. 

If that feels incomplete in some way, stay with me—there’s more to the process than this—we may need more than just one touch. 

Regeneration

If you look online you’ll see hours of videos talking about regeneration: different denominations arguing over when and how it occurs, how it relates to the sacraments, yada, yada, yada.  In brief, regeneration is spiritual rebirth—it is the change from a negative relationship to a positive relationship with God.

While regeneration is a work of God within us, it is something we cooperate with. Like the man in our story after the first touch; he can’t see quite right, but he is in relationship with Jesus and cooperates with Jesus as he’s being healed. 

As we said last week, the primary work is all God’s, but you and I do make very real choices in this life—predestination does not mean pre-determinism. Just as a blind man can’t simply choose to be sighted, we are dependent upon the great healer to open our eyes and turn on the lights first—our responses to grace are our real choices. 

We are born again by the work of God’s Holy Spirit, who awakens us to the awareness of God’s grace and love. We are then freed to live our lives as grateful responses to that grace. 

Sanctification

Sanctification is the Christian walk with God. It is our transformation toward servanthood to God in Christ’s name. We are made into the likeness of Christ by the secret work of the Holy Spirit. Secret because it does not happen within our personal will or consciousness, but it calls for our cooperation and real decisions over how we choose to live now that we’ve been united in Christ. 

Like the healed man of our text, we cooperate in our full healing process. Jesus asks him, “Can you see anything?” which calls the man to participate. He could have said, “Wow, I can see pretty good now—thanks, Mister!” and lived the rest of his life partially-healed; but he steps up in relationship to Jesus, saying, “I can see, but I’m not quite there.”  

Perhaps you and I often feel that way—that we’re not quite there—we still need more touches. 

The main thing that separates sanctification from regeneration is the promised gift of the Holy Spirit—the Spirit of Truth. We are not given salvation in order that we go back and live as blind people—doing all the things blind folks would do—but we live the new life—the new being in Christ—with the guidance of the Holy Spirit in our choices. This is the life of discipleship, and the life of discipleship is packed with real choices and decisions. 

Can you guess what are the two most disputed  books of the Bible? Make it easy: the first is Revelation, which barely made it into the canon of Scripture. The second is James. Martin Luther said he would surrender his academic chair of theology to anyone who could reconcile James’ teaching with Paul’s gospel of grace. 

Now I’m not saying I can reconcile them, but it is helpful if we think of Paul’s work addressing the question: “How are we to be saved?” and James’ question, “Now that we’re being saved, how ought followers of Jesus to live?” 

While we do make real choices and decisions, we do not choose to be saved (that’s God’s choice), but we do choose to live out our lives as those who are being saved. 

MISSION & VISION

If you haven’t thought of it already, I’ll remind you that this business of sanctification—of being made into the image of Christ by the secret work of the Holy Spirit—is our mission statement and our vision: 

Growing in Christ, Making Him Known

“Growing in” also means “growing into” Christ. As we are being made into Christlikeness, our lives are transformed into servants and witnesses, such that when people see us, they also see Him in us. That is our first—and best—way of making Him known. 

We also do not hesitate to introduce people to Christ—primarily by sharing what difference He has made in our own lives. How we feel differently, think differently, and choose differently now that our hope is in Christ and His kingdom rather than the things of this world. 

To be a person of faith means that God has opened our eyes from born-blindness, and He is continuing to improve our vision as we live for Him and make our decisions led by His gift of the Holy Spirit.   

QUESTIONS:

  1. 1.Why will Jesus not make a show out of his healings?
  2. 2.What does the need for multiple touches say about how Jesus heals us?
  3. 3.Why is conversion more a process than a single moment?
  4. 4.What is justification?
  5. 5.What is regeneration?
  6. 6.What is sanctification?
  7. 7.Which of the above are required for salvation?
  8. 8.Which of the above require our cooperation and effort?
  9. 9.Discuss how coming to faith has been a process for you.
  10. 10.How is your process going today?

“LET ME SEE AGAIN"

apostasy


Last week, we read how Jesus healed a man who had been born blind. We saw how his life immediately changed and how he grew from that place of utter cluelessness to one of witness and worship. Today, we have the story of Jesus healing another blind man, but one who was once sighted and then became blind. His prayer is not one for original vision, but for the return of sight that had been lost. 

Since these stories of physical blindness all carry meaning for spirituality and faith, what are we to say about this prayer for sight to be returned? What if someone once believed, then ceased to believe, but wanted to believe again? Is it possible for one who has fallen away to be restored? When it comes to faith and believing, what choices are we responsible for and what is God’s responsibility? 

We make real choices, but those choices tend to come only after God has in some way turned the lights on. As we look at today’s story, let’s consider how it speaks to faith—real faith, fake faith, and how our choices interface with the free choices of God. 

TEXT:  MARK 10: 46-52  NRSV

46 They came to Jericho. As he and his disciples and a large crowd were leaving Jericho, Bartimaeus son of Timaeus, a blind beggar, was sitting by the roadside. 47 When he heard that it was Jesus of Nazareth, he began to shout out and say, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” 48 Many sternly ordered him to be quiet, but he cried out even more loudly, “Son of David, have mercy on me!” 49 Jesus stood still and said, “Call him here.” And they called the blind man, saying to him, “Take heart; get up, he is calling you.” 50 So throwing off his cloak, he sprang up and came to Jesus. 51 Then Jesus said to him, “What do you want me to do for you?” The blind man said to him, “My teacher, let me see again.” 52 Jesus said to him, “Go; your faith has made you well.” Immediately he regained his sight and followed him on the way..

BLIND BARTIMAEUS

Jesus and his disciples are passing through Jericho on their way to Jerusalem where Jesus will complete His ministry in the temple and on Golgotha. The text says “as they were leaving,” the blind man named Bartimaeus cried out, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” The crowd tells him to pipe down. Why? We can imagine several reasons. 

As a blind beggar, Bartimaeus was a real downer. It amounts to a crowd keeping a homeless man away from a visiting dignitary. “Come on—keep the beggars away from the Rabbi!” 

Perhaps the crowd was moving with a certain quiet dignity, and the people considered it undignified for Bartimaeus to shout out as he did. A bit like yelling “Fire!” in a public place. 

It was a real attention-getter, for sure. Bartimaeus was perhaps “being a problem” in order to get attention and bystanders saw it as such.

Perhaps they told him to be quiet because they all wanted Jesus’ attention. This was their way of saying, “Dude—get to the back of the line!” 

Worse, those in the crowd were thinking, “He doesn’t have time for you, sinner!” 

Which amounts to: “You are undeserving of His hearing.” 

What does Bartimaeus do? He cries out all the louder, “Son of David, have mercy on me!” That Bartimaeus calls Jesus “Son of David” is especially significant. Nowhere else in Mark is Jesus addressed as Son of David. What did it mean? That Jesus is the promised one—the Messiah of God.  “Son of David” was a strong testimony about who Jesus was.  This, too, may account for why the crowd sought to silence him—it was a bit too much. 

There may be another dimension in this, because this man recognized something in Jesus that the Jewish leadership—and even the Disciples—did not see. Though blind, Bartimaeus calls the shot correctly. He proclaims the truth in calling Jesus “Son of David,” because Jesus is God’s promised Messiah. 

How did he know this? We can’t know from the text, but I’d like to suggest a possible angle (one I can’t prove), that may throw some light on our discussion.

The name Bartimaeus means “Son of Honor.” I’d like to imagine that he was a scribe—one who knew the Law and Prophets but lost his vision, and with it his livelihood. Can we imagine that Bartimaeus was one who longed for the coming Messiah and expected him? He once saw and believed, but now his sight was gone, but he—unlike the others—knows—really knows—who Jesus is!

THE HEALING

Jesus says, “Call him.”  Jesus could have called Bartimaeus himself, couldn’t He? Of course, but we have here an object lesson of how Jesus includes others in sending out his call. This is evangelism—that you  and I may be the means by which Jesus calls others to Himself. 

So they tell Bartimaeus: “Buck up! He’ll see you!” Bartimaeus tosses his cloak aside and springs up. Not, “Someone watch my stuff, please!” The cloak of a beggar was like a uniform—it was a sign of his identity. From that cloak people knew he was a designated recipient of alms-giving, which proper Jews were devout in giving. 

But leaving the cloak is a sign that Bartimaeus was ready and willing to leave everything for the chance of being healed. He’s not one of those people who get into the lake one toe at a time; he jumps in with all he has and is. 

Jesus asks a marvelous question: “What do you want me to do for you?” BarTimaeus could have said many things—you can use your imagination—but he goes for broke and sets the bar high: “Let me see again!” 

Jesus says, “Go; your faith has made you well.”  Wholeness comes through trusting in Christ. The man is immediately healed and follows Jesus and His followers toward Jerusalem. 

PRAYERS FROM BLINDNESS

Last week, Jesus’ action was unilateral—Jesus simply took the initiative to give sight to a man born blind. This week, the blind man asks to see again. The first thing I think we can gather from this is that Jesus honors the prayers of the spiritually blind. He hears the prayers of those who do not yet see Him. 

Where do some folks ever get the idea that we have to be okay with God before He will hear us? We know the opposite is true. It is the repentant sinner beating his breast who goes home justified. 

I knew a woman who had a hard life. When I asked her about prayer, she said, “I am not worthy of speaking to God.” While my heart was breaking for her, I did feel like saying, “That’s very good of you to know that God is so very good!” None of us is worthy of speaking to God; we do so only by His amazing grace. 

Part of the good news in this—that God hears the prayers of sinners and disbelievers—is that we can encourage anyone to pray. As I’ve encountered people who are spiritually blind and unable to see Jesus as Christ and Son of David, I have encouraged them to pray one prayer: 

“Lord, please reveal Yourself as You truly are.” 

This prayer trusts the Holy Spirit to do the work only the Spirit can do. 

But now to the harder topic: Apostasy.

APOSTASY

Apostasy is the loss of faith. Like Bartimaeus, there are people who once could see but now cannot. They once believed, but now do not.  In the early church, the term was most often used of those who renounced Jesus under threat of torture or persecution. In other words, they lost their nerve and cursed Christ and praised Caesar rather than be crucified, lit on fire, or thrown to lions—or all of the above. We know nothing of such a threat and we should be glad we don’t. Early church fathers had harsh rebukes for those who preserved themselves rather than their witness to Christ—but this kind of apostasy is rare today. 

In our day, we have freedom of religion, which people experience as the simple freedom to think whatever we want. We certainly take that freedom of faith for granted. Leaving Christianity today is as easy as cancelling a magazine subscription. Some leave because they don’t like rules or accountability—not even to God. People depart the faith not in fear of torture and death, but because they prefer lives with fewer expectations. They want to enjoy sinning without a guilty conscience. Rather than smother sin, they smother conscience. 

Others just want to get away from the culture of Christianity—The Mickey Mouse Club version of pop Christianity—and others want away from feeling suffocated by the pushy zeal of family members or church members. 

A friend of mine ran a church in downtown Seattle—an edgy, hipster church that met in an old movie theater. While on the town, he watched a singer who went by the name of Blenderhead perform the song “One” by U2.  So touched was he by the song, that he asked Blenderhead to sing the song at his church. Looking shocked, he agreed. On the Sunday he sang, he was quite the sight: tatted all over, piercings in his ears, eyebrows, nostrils, and tongue—not your average church-goer. At the end of his song, the congregation burst into standing applause. After the service, my friend went up to him to say thanks. As he approached, Blenderhead burst into tears, bawling like a small child. He said, “I’ve always loved God—I just thought there would never be a church that would have someone like me.” 

The Church—all churches—need to demonstrate the mercy of Son of David for all who would see.

What should we think of apostates? Should we expect that they can never return or should we work diligently for the restoration of their sight?

APOSTATES, UNLTD.

Some people never really believed,; they just went along with the crowds while they were growing up. They went to school, did their duty, attended church with their families on Sundays, and had faith only to the degree that they were going along with the crowd. Their parents were doing their best to nurture them in the faith, but at the end of the day, they were just doing it for their parents. 

Others, who claim to have had real faith, lose it entirely. I have friends—some of them highly educated and generally sincere thinkers—who once professed faith in Christ, persisting even through strong college discouragements—but who have since abandoned faith—relegating it to the myths and legends of the western world.  To them, leaving Christianity is like leaving one’s membership in a teenage fanclub. They feel their doubts to be a surer foundation for thought and identity than the new being in Christ.  It totally breaks my heart. 

I think, “What happened? What went wrong?” 

I suppose they look at me like the guy who couldn’t bear to leave the comforts of his hometown for the larger world. they would probably say my faith is:

•just my own form of self-preservation, or 

•a rather unfortunate combination of nostalgia, sentimentalism, and gullibility

•a false construction to make me feel good about myself. A mask. 

They see me (and us) like UFO enthusiasts  gathered at the annual conference in Roswell, bolstering our mutual confirmation bias. 

I think they see us as shallow, lacking courage, self-deluded. . . blind! 

You may have children or grandchildren who grew up in the church. they were baptized, brought to church on Sundays, active in the youth group, confirmed, and yet somewhere along the line they fell out of obedience—they fell out of care.  We know the same heartbreak and ask the same questions: “What happened? What went wrong?” 

CHOOSING FAITH

My older, wiser brother was at one time pastor of First Presbyterian Church of Lubbock, Texas. He said, “Faith is like a tree in west Texas: if you don’t water the thing it’s gonna die!” This is true of trees in west Texas. They tend to grow slowly, if at all, but I’m not so sure that this is what faith is like. 

Scripture tells us that faith is ultimately a gift given by God. It is often given to people who neither want it nor seek it. These people, it seems, are among the ones who never walk away from God. The faith that they are given changes everything about them, and though they didn’t ask for it, they experience total transformation through it. 

But there is a kind of faith that is chosen:

it is chosen by parents for their children,

it is chosen by families for their life together,

it is chosen by repentant souls at Bible camp and revivals. 

There is a large problem with this kind of faith, because a faith you can choose is a faith you can lose. If we can choose faith, we can un-choose it just as easily. 

The faith that is easy to lose is the “cultural faith”—the faith of the team, the group, the family, the culture. As it can be chosen—it only exists in the realm of the consumer mentality.  It’s like Baskin Robbins 31 flavors: we can choose Pralines & Cream or Baseball Nut or Licorice. We choose it, and part of its value and satisfaction resides in the choice itself. Pralines & Cream is the best because I picked it out of all 31 flavors! 

To some degree, our choices are nothing but an exercise of ego and individualism—we think, “It is good because I picked it!” 

Now if what we call faith is a choice among choices, we reduce it to a product—one that only has value if individually purchased. 

We’ve all made bad purchases. Ever buy an article of clothing that looked good on the rack but never looked good when you put it on? Ever tried really hard to like something you bought just because it was expensive—or a great deal—and you didn’t want to admit you hated it?  Or worse, those Zips brand shoes your mother bought you instead of Nikes? 

Whatever we reduce to a choice among other choices, we desperately cheapen. And what I am saying is that we must not allow our faith to be cheapened in the same way—offering the choice of Jesus as one choice among many. 

“MAKING” JESUS LORD AND SAVIOR

We don’t “make” Jesus our Lord and Savior. “I made Jesus my Lord and Savior!” Nothing could be more preposterous. “You did? You took Jesus and lifted Him up to the status of Lord and Savior? You must be almighty yourself to accomplish that!” 

It matters how we talk about these things. Our language matters. 

We don’t “make” Jesus our Lord and Savior. We can’t. To suggest as much is idolatry. To think that out of a world of possible gods, you and I say, “we choose Jesus” and thereby “make” him Lord and Savior is absurd—it is exactly like idolatry which looks at a hundred different little statues and says, “That one—I choose that one to be God and I choose it to have power and authority.” 

We can’t and don’t “make” Jesus Lord and Savior—He IS Lord and Savior.  We either see it or we do not. We are sighted or we are blind, and God is the one who chooses.

We might think, “Yes, but Jesus is where I’m placing my bets and putting all my chips! All my trust and investment are on Jesus!” But even this reduces Him to one among many different little squares on a roulette table! A choice among choices. We must understand: He isn’t a square on the roulette table hoping to receive our bets and loyalty; He is Lord over every square, He is the whole table, above the whole casino, Las Vegas, Nevada, America, Earth and cosmos. 

TRUE FAITH = GIFT

True faith is not the faith we choose for ourselves. True faith is an act of Go upon us over which we are rendered helpless and powerless. We don’t need to be sold on it, for we are compelled by it—absorbed into it and utterly immersed in the workings of God. 

To say, “I chose Jesus,” is like saying, “I chose to breath oxygen.” 

We do make real choices, but only after God has turned on the lights.  This faith that God gives demands new life of us. We can no longer be blind beggars pleading ignorance. We can certainly fail to water our faith, fail to nurture it, and fail to share it; but we cannot make faith happen; we can only make fake faith happen. And there’s much too much of it about.

God alone produces the real stuff. If we have it we bear fruit. Jesus says bad trees can’t bear good fruit and good trees don’t bear bad fruit. You and I cannot bear fruit by personal force of will or good works. Good fruit is merely the earthly evidence of true faith given by God. 

Scripture gives us enormous hope for all our loved ones who have seemingly departed from faith. We should cry out for them “Son of David, HAVE MERCY!  Lord, let my friend, brother, daughter, grandchild—SEE again!”

Let us pray God will give them His gift of true faith.  



QUESTIONS:

  1. 1.What are the significant spiritual steps the man takes between the beginning and end of chapter 9?
  2. 2.How are these steps similar to those of the Samaritan Woman in John chapter 4: 1-30? 
  3. 3.In both cases, how is faith initiated? Who starts it? What is required of the “convert”? 
  4. 4.What is the problem in saying that people who really want to be saved are more likely to be saved?
  5. 5.What is the virtue in owning our own blindness, albeit spiritual blindness?
  6. 6.What is the downside of thinking ourselves more as saints than sinners? 

“BORN BLIND"


TEXT:  John Chapter 9

“ME AND MY STORIES”

Years ago, I had a secretary who was really into a couple of soap operas. She and the others in the office loved talking about what they called, “their stories.”  “I love my stories!” she used to say, “Me and my stories!”

Well, this covid lockdown has given many of us a chance to get caught up on “our stories” whatever they are, but today they call it “binge watching.” When we have TV on, it’s usually news stories on Youtube, but sometimes I just feel hungry for something more story-ish, so we might watch a movie or take on a series of some kind. 

The thing is, we all need our stories. There is something deeply inherent in humanity that makes us look to story/narratives in order to find meaning. Good stories feed our minds with an analogy to our own lives and help make our days sensible to us. Stories inspire. Stories heal. Jesus often taught with stories, because they scratch our souls where they itch. 

When there is no story, we tend to invent stories to fill the spaces. We see that written large in America in terms of what we call NEWS—which are brief narratives of the days’ events—and remarkably in false teachings and conspiracies. 

Conspiracies are stories. Someone takes five or six verifiable facts or events and then re-presents them with all the “dots connected.” They create a narrative to make the chaos look meaningful. This is no different than watching some fluffy clouds and seeing elephants, dragons, or human faces—you can see them, but only as an act of imagination. You have to compose the things that resemble an elephant and then disregard everything about the clouds that is not elephant-like, then you can say, “Oh, yes! I see it!” 

Covid conspiracies are all over the map, largely because people have time on their hands and have become extremely bored and frustrated. Because we need narrative to make meaning of the world, we are much more likely to accept a bad story over just a spray of unsatisfying facts and statistics. So which is the better story? To say that this pandemic is complex, and experts around the world are still learning about it and doing their best to put together reliable treatments and finally a vaccine—so please just be patient and keep praying for the best; or to say, “Oh! That’s just what Bill Gates wants you to think! This is a coordinated attempt by people in power to control the masses and establish the New World Order!”  The latter is a much more satisfying story, but it is a silly lie, and mature people should be quick to reject such idiocies.

ABOUT THIS SERIES

For the next four weeks, we are going to look at texts testifying to Jesus’ healing of the blind. There are subtle differences to all the healings, but they all have things in common as well. 

A little background on these healings in general: 

1. There are no healings of the blind in the Old Testament. This is part of the reason the belief was that no one could heal the blind but God. 

2. There are nine accounts of Jesus healing the blind in the Gospels.

3. There are no accounts of the Apostles healing the blind—nothing else in all the New Testament. 

4. The healing of the blind was in particular a sign of God’s Messiah. We find this in multiple texts—especially in Isaiah—such as 35: 4-5: 

“Say to those who are of a fearful heart, “Be strong, do not fear!

Here is your God. He will come with vengeance, with terrible recompense.  He will come and save you.” Then the eyes of the blind shall be opened, and the ears of the deaf unstopped;”

5. Jesus performs more healings of the blind than any other kind. This certainly is to testify that Jesus is indeed God’s promised messiah, but I suggest we get something else from this; namely, the pattern by which we all come to authentic faith.  We, like the blind, must have our eyes opened by the miraculous touch of Jesus. 


THE BLIND MAN’S STORY

There are different kinds of faith, and our desire is for mature faith. One way we can look at the text we’ve heard read is just this—the movement toward Jesus and the changing attitude of this healed blind man as he moves closer to Jesus. 

Consider: at first, he knows nothing about Jesus. He doesn’t cry out to him. He doesn’t asked to be healed. Jesus doesn’t ask, “Do you know who I am?” or “Do you want to be able to see?” Jesus just sees him (which is certainly more than most people may have done—in that day, like today—people preferred to ignore beggars). 

The healing is prompted by the question from the Disciples? Why was he born blind? Did he sin or did his parents sin?  Old Testament Judaism clearly identifies a tie between human misery and sin. If someone suffers some form of sin, then it must be because of sin—either the man’s, or his parents. Jesus tells them that neither is true, but he was born blind (verse 3):

 “so that God’s works might be revealed in him.” 

From there, Jesus just heals him—unilaterally, without asking for so much as a nod from the man. Now Jesus could have just said the word to heal him, but he goes to the trouble of spitting on the ground to make mud and then rubs the mud on the man’s eyes. There are at least two reasons for this: 

1. Mudding the eyes was a technique of the day that other healers used. Jesus is doing the normal thing, perhaps to disguise or veil his divine power a bit. 

2. It was the sabbath, and while it is no problem to heal or save a life on the sabbath, it was considered work to mix the dirt and saliva—to make mud—and to apply to the eyes—that was all work, and therefore sinful in the eyes of the Jews. 

Jesus tells him to go and wash in the pool of Siloam, which means messenger or missionary.  This is significant, because as the Son is sent as a missionary to the world, so we are sent as missionaries of Christ as the Church to continue His work in the world. The man washes and is healed, but he still doesn’t have much of a clue. 

When first questioned, he’s as baffled as his questioners. Verse 12: 

They said to him, “Where is he?” He said, “I do not know.” When they push, he adds the simple facts: “He put mud on my eyes; now I see.” 

The Pharisees are divided. Some say he has to be from God, because no one has ever healed a man born blind, but others say that he clearly broke the Sabbath, and only a sinner would do that. So the serious faculty members and administrators look to this young man and ask him: “Who do you say he is?”  He says, “He is a prophet,” which is his way of saying that Jesus is clearly sent by God as God’s representative.  

The Pharisees call in his parents, who totally wimp out and don’t want to answer the questions. They make their son answer for himself: “He’s been bar mitzvah’ed” which means he is old enough to speak for himself as an adult and suffer the consequences himself.  They totally fumbled their parents-of-the-year nomination. 

The Pharisees pull him in again and turn up the heat.  “Confess! How did he do it?”  Now the young man’s spine is taking on its full, rocky shape. He says, “One thing I do know, that though I was blind, now I see.” and when they ask him to tell the whole story again, he says, “Why do you want to hear it again? Do you want to become his disciples, too?” As in “like I want to become His disciple.” This is too much for the Pharisees, because Jesus isn’t part of their club, so they kick the newly-healed young man out of the synagogue, which is what his parents feared would happen to them before they threw their son under the bus. 

He has testified to who Jesus is—as best as he can reckon—has declared his desire to follow Jesus and been persecuted for following. This is all quickly producing spiritual maturity. 

Once he’s kicked out of the synagogue, Jesus hears about it and seeks him out. Jesus asks him, “Do you believe in the Son of Man?”  This is his catechism. Jesus doesn’t say, “Do you believe in me?” but “Do you believe in the Son of Man”—that is, the personal work of God on the earth. He says, “Who is he? Tell me and I’ll believe.”  What a difference from his first examination!  Jesus says, “You’re talkin’ to him!” And the man says in verse 38: 

 “Lord, I believe.” And he worshiped him. 

No Jew would ever worship a human being. Although the gospel of John is filled with instances of Jesus revealing his divinity, this is the only place where he is worshipped in the flesh. Other gospels have accounts, but in John, this is it.  This is mature faith—to worship Christ as Lord and God. 

From blindness to sight, from seeing to testifying, and from testifying to suffering, and from suffering to faith and worship—this is the path of the blind beggar, and it is the story of us all, for we all come to faith as by a miraculous healing. No one comes to authentic faith except by a miraculous healing of Christ. 

You may be thinking, “Why do we all need a healing touch? Why isn’t it enough that I simply believe? What could be missing?” 

AUTHENTIC FAITH

As we’ve said before, there are different kinds of belief—different levels of believing—and for faith to be authentic, we need to know the differences. 

Popular atheist celebrity Richard Dawkins says that Christians in the west are Christians simply because they were raised that way. It’s what your parents and grandparents believed, so you believe it. It is the religion of the land, and if you had been born in China you would be a Buddhist (at least, pre-communist China), a Hindu if you were born in India, and a Muslim if born in the middle east. He’s not entirely wrong; there is a kind of faith that seeps into us by osmosis from our host culture. The easiest faith to take on is the one our loving parents built into us. If not our parents, our community, our local Christian friends, see to it that we are more likely to become Christians than anything else. This kind of faith is very shallow. It is the faith of the herd mentality. The path of least resistance; cultural faith rather than true faith. 

If you simply believe because your parents believed, that is pretty thin faith. Christianity has always been the main religion of America—it still is—but that is no reason to follow Jesus, because the rest of the crowd is. Even Richard Dawkins grew up going to chapel services, singing hymns, and lowering his head to intone the prayers of the Church of England common book of prayer, but how deep was it? 

Q: What are we to say to Dawkins? When he says you’re only a Christian because you grew up in a Christian culture, what is our response? 

Q: How are we to know if our faith is anything more than just cultural conformity? 

And if this is the truth about our faith, isn’t it mere herd mentality—the blind leading the blind—albeit in the right direction? 

Danish philosopher Soren Kierkegaard criticized the Christianity of  Denmark for this same quality. He said that everyone born in Denmark is a Christian, because everyone gets baptized and goes to the state-run Church. He criticized the shallowness of popular faith—it had such little authenticity because it was just how you followed the crowd if you were Danish. Faith amounted to little more than a herd mentality. 

For faith to be authentic, it must come from someplace much deeper than happy conformity. This happy conformity was the downfall of the Pharisees—they couldn’t approve of Jesus without breaking the club rules. 

Of them, Jesus says, at the end of the text, verse 41: 

“If you were blind, you would not have sin. But now that you say, ‘We see,’ your sin remains” 

Spiritually, as sons and daughters of Adam, we are all born blind. We are incapable of seeing what is good, righteous, and holy because we simply do not have the eyes for it. Those who think they see are worse off for it. 

FIND YOUR BLIND

The path to mature spirituality requires that we acknowledge our blindness before we move on. You and I must “find our blind” if we are to be healed and whole in following Christ. 

How do we “find our blind”? We acknowledge our blindness and we study Scripture, attentively listening for God’s Word to speak to us, to call us, and to instruct us in our faith and practice. 

We study best when we do so acknowledging our blindness. We read and study best when we do so to identify our blindspots. The Word of God challenges us—constantly—and disrupts our lives by reaching out to touch us so that we may be healed. 

Be clear: there is no safe, overstuffed sofa for faithfulness. If you follow, your life and comforts will be disrupted. You will be raised up, made to see, and called to testify to the power of Christ at your cost. There’s really nothing easy-going about it. 

Nor do we ever “arrive” in the sense of completing the work. The work of our conversion—the work of the Holy Spirit in us—is ongoing till the day we die, and I don’t doubt that God intends to continue our conversion once we’re face to face with Him. 

11th-century Anselm of Canterbury put this into a formula: 

fides quaerens intellectum 

“(authentic) faith seeks understanding”

This means that when faith is authentic, it remains in process—still growing, still studying, still identifying blindspots—our whole lives. Authentic faith is that kind of shark which must keep moving forward or else it dies. Authentic faith stays hungry, curious, ever-seeking to learn more, see more, and follow Christ more closely. 

Authentic faith carries within it the constant awareness of our essential blindness.

We are not activist zealots for Jesus; we are His humble followers. We are like moles—born underground—now crawling along on the surface blinded by the Light of Christ. 

If you are not blinded by the light of Christ, you are not seeing the same light. 

Remember Saul (who became Paul)—his conversion required literal blinding in order that God could open his eyes to Christ. He was too proud, too full of himself, too stuffed-up with Pharisaical confidence of the Jewish religion for there to be any room in his life for Christ. 

Christ saved Paul—against his own will—by striking him blind in order that he might see. So how do you and I find our blind? 

BLINDNESS, UNLIMITED

The world is born blind and into total blindness. Some have their eyes opened and are enabled to see and know that The Lord is God—that Jesus is the Son and Messiah—but there is no choosing this. 

Jesus opens the eyes of the blind. He opens the eyes of those born blind, which is the only way any of us come to believe. We are not blind people who choose not to be blind; we are incapable of seeing or knowing our condition unless sightedness is somehow revealed to us. 

Every person who comes to faith does so not by choice but by the miracle of God curing spiritual blindess. I once was blind but now I see. How? Not by my choosing it, but by the Amazing Grace of God who chose that I should see. 

Every person who comes to faith is evidence of a miracle of God’s own activity. 

Jesus healed those who were born blind—just as we are born blind. Some had no idea what was happening, but once they could see, they proclaimed His name. 

Does God open all the eyes of all the blind? Apparently not, for we live in a world where many disbelieve entirely. They are blind; they remain blind, and they refuse to acknowledge that they are blind. We may say we have seen the Light, but they can only ask, “So what is Light?” and “You’re making all this up, aren’t  you?” 

It is not really a choice; the blind cannot simply choose to see. Unless God acts upon them, they will never see the Light. 

Even so,  some blind do ask to be healed. In Scripture, there are those who beg Jesus to heal them.  There is good news here for these seekers of the world, for they can pray, “Lord, let me see! Lord, give me the gift of faith!”  Jesus says, “All who seek shall find,” but it is not as simple as opening our own eyes; we must be healed of our basic blindness, and only God can do that. 

“HE WORSHIPPED HIM”

The great key to the healed blindman’s transformation and maturity is that he worships Jesus. This would have been considered blasphemy by the Scribes and Pharisees, who rightly believed that God alone is worthy of worship. The man, born blind, saw something no one else—not even the Disciples—saw: that Jesus is the Son of Man, the Son of God, sent into the world to heal the blind. 

The final evidence of mature, authentic faith is just this: having been given the eyes to see Jesus is The Lord, we worship Him. Of all the things we do and think of as important, none will last as long as our worship, praise, adoration, and glorification of God. It begins here and now; it ends…never. 

May God grant us all the sight to see our blindesses, and may He open our eyes to see Him, that we may daily be blinded by the Light of Christ.  

QUESTIONS:

  1. 1.What are the significant spiritual steps the man takes between the beginning and end of chapter 9?
  2. 2.How are these steps similar to those of the Samaritan Woman in John chapter 4: 1-30? 
  3. 3.In both cases, how is faith initiated? Who starts it? What is required of the “convert”? 
  4. 4.What is the problem in saying that people who really want to be saved are more likely to be saved?
  5. 5.What is the virtue in owning our own blindness, albeit spiritual blindness?
  6. 6.What is the downside of thinking ourselves more as saints than sinners? 

“Wise to the Good”

iu


ROMANS 16: 16-20

16 Greet one another with a holy kiss. All the churches of Christ greet you. 17  I urge you, brothers and sisters, to keep an eye on those who cause dissensions and offenses, in opposition to the teaching that you have learned; avoid them. 18 For such people do not serve our Lord Christ, but their own appetites, and by smooth talk and flattery they deceive the hearts of the simple-minded. 19 For while your obedience is known to all, so that I rejoice over you, I want you to be wise in what is good and guileless in what is evil. 20 The God of peace will shortly crush Satan under your feet. The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you †

CHURCH PRIMITIVISM

I’ve always found it amusing when  new, independent church begins to come together and the leaders say, “We don’t want any of that denominational nonsense—our plan is to go back to Acts and be like the early church.” While I resonate just fine in sentiment, I know that the idea is pretty ridiculous. The assumption is that the early Church was wonderful, had their act perfectly together, and worshiped God in excellent style and perfect harmony. We know from Scripture—and today’s text—that this is not the case. The early church—even in its infancy—was shot through with problems, conflicts, and false leaders trying to worm their way into power. 

We might long for what we imagine is the simplicity and minimalism of the early church, but in fact, it’s a lot like saying, “We don’t want any of this modern dentistry nonsense—our plan is to do as they did in Jesus’ day.”  Good luck with that. 

There are always troubles that follow puritans and reformers—the good-hearted idealists who think they have the solution to fix the broken church. By good-hearted I mean that they crave a church that is faithful, sincere, and holy unto God. The mistake is thinking that they have it within themselves to save the church. I’ll say it up front:  there is no human-led salvation for the Church; there is no human-led salvation. 

In our text today, Paul instructs the Roman churches to beware, to keep an eye on those who cause dissensions and divisions. Shun those who would divide the Church and draw followers out into some new manifestation of new and improved Christianity.

THE CALL TO UNITY

From the beginning, the church has been called to oneness. Jesus prays for it in John 17 and it is an earmark of authentic witness.

John 17: 20-21: 

“I ask not only on behalf of these, but also on behalf of those who will believe in me through their word, that they may all be one. As you, Father, are in me and I am in you, may they also be in us, so that the world may believe that you have sent me.”

We are called to oneness “so that the world may believe”!  

As to those threatening Church unity? “Avoid them,” says Paul.

Let’s be clear, this isn’t a simple, unilateral, irretrievable shun. It’s not for repentant people, for those willing to be corrected, for we all make mistakes. This isn’t a rigid, inflexible prohibition, but a guideline so that the Church adhere’s to the teaching of the Apostles’ and gladly rejects newfangled theologies that contradict orthodoxy.  

We all make mistakes, and we should be honest and open about it. We should be quick to admit our mistakes and quick to forgive others. For many years, I have been a proponent in my leadership of what is call “the learning organization.”  We are all learning. There is no real place for know-it-alls, experts, and perfectionists in the church, but it is a place for “learn-it-alls.” There is great grace in learning organizations, because there is room for error and correction. The learning church has a sense of humor—a kind of humility in knowing that we still have a lot to learn. 

Contrast that with so-called perfect churches. Perfect churches are not very good about mistakes or those who make them. They tend toward arrogance, by which I mean that they feel they have nothing to learn from others. 

This is true as well of arrogant persons—arrogant people are those who feel they have all the answers—all the best practices—and therefore are unwilling to be instructed. The book of Proverbs calls them fools. 

Proverbs 1:7  The fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge;

    fools despise wisdom and instruction.

In Rome, there were those who felt their ideas were better than Paul’s, and they created dissension and division by artfully casting doubt on Paul’s teachings and the teachings of the Apostles. They did this to pull people away so that they would have disciples of their own, whom they could impress and exploit apart from the Church.

Today, we Presbyterians welcome dissent—it is one of our strengths—and we welcome challenges, but we rightly rebuke those who would divide the fellowship by introducing unorthodox teaching. 

“Avoid them,” says Paul.  they’re not serving the Lord (though they may say they are), but rather they’re gratifying themselves in the name of Christ. 

Now I need to say more about the type of person who creates dissensions and divisions, and I can speak to this authoritatively, because I am—or have been—the type. 

“IMPRESSIVE”

I have a pastor friend here in California who had a great office. It was large and there was a comfortable grouping of four, overstuffed chairs with an attractive coffee table in the middle—clearly the work of a professional decorator.  It was the kind of place you wanted to sit down and spend hours talking and drinking coffee. I visited the new pastor of that church when my friend moved on, and I told him how much I loved that office. His response was lukewarm: “Yyyyyyyeah,” he said, “but it really isn’t very impressive.”  I suspected this attitude might be a problem, and in time it was. 

The pastor who seeks to be impressive can end up with a lot of great appearances but little under the hood. What the Beach Boys called a “no-go showboat.” 

But this was me as well in my twenties. After graduating seminary and getting freshly ordained to my first church in Dallas, I sought to impress people. I wore a suit—a suit!—to the office every day, and the sermons I preached were less for the people in the pews than for my old seminary professors 1200 miles away.  Perhaps it was just my insecurity—that I felt I needed to prove my right to lead—or maybe I was busy convincing myself that I was adequate to the task.  Either way, I soon discovered that I was compensating on the outside what I feared was inadequate inside.  I was seeking to be impressive, but no more. 

The problem with trying to be impressive is that you serve a mask—one that can take over operations in time. When image matters too much, substance suffers. Those serving their own image—including congregations that serve their own image—can become so obsessed with their optics that they steer the church out of the Body of Christ entirely. When a congregation becomes all about being the “it” church, the popular church, the church with the best numbers and greatest success, then look out. 

“Puritan/reformers”

When it comes to dissension and divisions, church history shows us that it is usually the puritan types who break away from the larger church. It’s the conservatives who seek to preserve purity or true practice in some form. So another divisive type we can name is the “Puritan/Reformer.” 

These are the ones who come to [sarcastically] save the day, turn the church to true faith, true correctness, or to put the real fire back in the church.

Most pastors have a heightened sense of smell for the seeds of division. We know when factions are forming, when inappropriate alignments begin to take ranks. Dissenters tend to coalesce around charismatic revolutionaries intent on their own empowerment. They are critical of the church in general—not holy enough, not sufficiently aflame, in need of fixing—and they alone are God’s chosen to fix it. Part of my service to Christ is stopping those factions—disabling the possibilities of division—for we all should do what we can to stay unified in spite of differing opinions. 

The pious leaders of revolt and their followers, like the armies of Absolom or those of Jeroboam, divide churches easily, drunk as they are on self-righteous zeal. 

I know this kind of divisive type from the inside out, because  in my 30s and 40s,  that was me. 

I had a widely-read blog (among presbyterian pastors and elders) and over thousand letters and/or editorials printed in the Layman, Presbyterian Forum, Monday Morning, which was a journal for and by Presbyterian pastors, and other publications of Presbyterian interest. 

I was on ABC national news defending a radical group of preachers who were hurting business in downtown Pasadena, and took All Saints Episcopal Church to task in the Pasadena Star-News for their ridiculous political demonstrations. I created a flurry of letters through making fun of a new group of organized witches who looked more like Junior Leaguers than the Addams Family. 

And I loved it—I defended my fiery rhetoric by saying that the pen is mightier than the sword, and whenever we pick up the pen instead of the sword, we are exercising the virtue of gentleness, no matter how virulent the writing. 

I enjoyed criticizing the hypocrisies of my own denomination, the PCUSA. I enjoyed the set ‘em up and knock ‘em down polemics, and reveled in the constant reminder that the emperors of denominational offices had no clothes. 

I really enjoyed the argument—I took pleasure in making mincemeat of my opponents’ writings, and fought the good fight of the evangelical faith against the hordes of Progressives who sought to politicize the church’s mission. 

In 2004, I was appointed to the national Board of New Wineskins—we were the group that sought separation from the denomination. Three years later, I delivered the keynote at the national gathering where we launched the plans for a new presbytery that would exist in both the PCUSA and Evangelical Presbyterian Church at once. It was a plan to enable congregations who wanted out to get out. 

Our blueprint laid the groundwork for ECO, the Evangelical Covenant Order of Presbyterians,  the new denomination which has received several churches—the largest ones—out of this presbytery. 

And now I’ve humble-bragged myself into utter shame, because I say now that  it was all from sin.

Yes, I had good reasons for what I was doing—the PCUSA is flawed and in many ways broken, and I wasn’t wrong to say so—but I was wrong to do anything that threatened division or encourage others to consider division. The lie is that the newer church is the truer church, but we told ourselves the true church was the one breaking away. 

Not anymore. I have been changed.

I see the offense it is to Christ, and though I am quite clear on the oh so many ways that the PCUSA is a messed-up denomination, I know God loves her and desires that she not be split.  It is better to hold fellowship across the aisle with great differences yet celebrate in humility at the table than to break off in the false pretense of service to purity, wholeness, or correctness.  

The motto of the PCUSA is ecclesia reformata, semper reformanda—the church reformed, always reforming. This is good news, because it means that the church’s self-understanding remembers that we tend to acquire barnacles in time. 

Real reform happens from within, and it is a matter of clearing off the barnacles that the church accumulate through time in its interactions with a fallen world. We need to clear off the barnacles of pop-religiousness, of institutional loyalty (Wow, that was ironic!), and of all the things we love which stand in contradiction to the Word of God. 

It is hard work, but it must be done. Very hard. We wouldn’t have barnacles at all if they weren’t tasty, sugary, and gold-gilded.  Some barnacles give us a good, glowy, Christian feeling.  American Christianity is replete in shiny, gilded, feel-good barnacles. We remove them, painful though it may be, in service to Christ and the Word written. We do not reform ourselves to popular ideas or new codes of pop-righteousness—we avoid them and stand sola scriptura—on scripture alone. 

It is (not) Our work

The work of unifying and purifying the Church is not up to us; it is God’s work—the work of the Holy Spirit in our midst—which can not be engineered by us or controlled by us. We should beware those who try. 

There is great arrogance in the churches wanting to “go back and be like the early church.” First, to do this denies 2000 years of the Holy Spirit’s work in the world! Second, it denies that they already belong to a larger body of Christ which includes many other Christians: Catholics, Orthodox, Baptists, and yes, even Presbyterians. It is arrogant because it says, in effect, “We are the True Church and we have nothing to learn from the rest of the Body of Christ,” or worse, “We have no regard for the rest of the Holy Spirit’s work up to the present day!”  What could be worse? 

Our calling is not to purity, but to humility. The gifts of the Holy Spirit are given to us for our own good—in order that we might grow into the image and likeness of Christ our Lord. The gifts are not ours to exploit or even to modify, as if we be so insolent as to think we can improve them by ourselves! No, the gifts are part of the Spirit’s work in us. 

Paul says he wants us to be “wise to the good.” That means we should embody the fruits of the Spirit rather than seek purity, perfection, or impressiveness. The Church should be the WorldBank for peace, patience, kindness, gentleness, self-control, faith, hope, joy, and especially love. 

Yes, we must remain vigilant against bad interpretations of Scripture. We must beware false teachers willing to twist Scripture to feather their own nests or exploit the masses. I’m afraid we live among pseudo-Christians who are only too glad to twist the Bible in order to serve themselves. We stand against shallow interpretations and lazy literalism. 

Finally, Paul assures us: 

God will crush Satan under your feet. 

Note well: GOD will crush Satan—not you and me, though He may use our feet to do it. The work is God’s alone, and Paul is saying, in effect, “I trust you will, with God’s help, overcome these temptations to division and remain one in Christ.” 

As we are vigilant against factions and corrosive dissensions, let us be strong of heart and mind to seek the unity we know Christ desires for us! 

                                              © Noel 2021