God faithfully directs the paths of everyone who trusts in him with all their heart (Proverbs 3:5-6). But sometimes, as Moses experienced in Exodus 18, God directs us through a word of correction from someone else.

*               *               *

The reunion of Moses and Jethro was a sweet one. Moses was glad to have his wife and his two boys back with him. And Jethro sat astonished as Moses described the ten plagues, the pillar of God’s presence, the Red Sea deliverance, the provision of manna, and water from a rock. Jethro rejoiced in such unparalleled demonstrations of divine power and confessed God’s supremacy in everything.

Then Jethro observed his son-in-law at work. Clearly Moses was an extraordinary prophet, leader, and judge. But he was spending his whole day addressing one dispute or problem at a time. And the number of people waiting for a hearing only grew larger. Jethro could feel the rumblings of frustration. This looked like an eruption waiting to happen.

When Moses finally took a break, Jethro asked him a clarifying question: “Why do you sit alone, and all the people stand around you from morning till evening?” (v. 14). Note that Jethro did not assume his perception was completely correct. Perhaps Moses had a good reason. Asking this question was both wise and kind.

This gave Moses a chance to explain the job God had assigned to him: The Lord instructed Moses regarding the law, and Moses was then to teach the people and help them apply it to their particular situations.

That was helpful. Moses understood his calling and he was working hard to serve everyone.

Understanding this, Jethro said to Moses, “What you are doing is not good. You and the people with you will certainly wear yourselves out, for the thing is too heavy for you. You are not able to do it alone” (v. 17-18).

In other words, Moses’ mission was right but his method was wrong. Bad systems can undermine the best intentions.

Now, Moses was used to being criticized. Some faction was almost continually calling his leadership into question. But Jethro was different. He saw a problem, sought to understand it, identified the core weakness, and offered a solution (in verses 19-23) that served both Moses’ calling and the people’s needs. Jethro really wanted Moses and the people to thrive.

In this world such a counselor is rare.

That said, I imagine this correction still might have stung Moses a little. It would have stung me. Our prideful fallen natures hate to have our mistakes or weaknesses pointed out.

But Moses’ response revealed his humility. He didn’t brush Jethro off as an outsider who didn’t understand. He didn’t try to protect his reputation by lying that he’d been thinking about doing that very thing himself. And he didn’t pull rank by reminding Jethro who, between the two of them, tended to hear from God more.  Rather, Moses humbly received and immediately implemented Jethro’s counsel.

In this world such a leader is rare.

There’s something else remarkable about Moses’ response. Though he received frequent direct and detailed revelation from God, he was not narrow in his understanding of how God speaks and directs. Since God ruled everything he could just as easily direct him through a father-in-law as through a cloud.

Moses was not swayed by human opinion. But he was a man whose ear was always listening for God. He had been transformed by the renewing of his mind and by testing was able to discern what was the will of God (Romans 12:2).

*               *               *

What Jethro has to teach us about bringing godly correction to someone else:

1. First, we should identify specific ways God is working in and through that person and authentically rejoice with him or her.
2. Second, we must have in mind the good of everyone involved and be able to describe what that is.
3. Third, we should ask clarifying questions before we critique or counsel in order to accurately grasp the situation.
4. And fourth, we should be graciously specific in our correction and, if possible, work with him or her to find a helpful solution.

What Moses has to teach us about receiving correction from someone else:

1. First, all of us, even the most gifted, have areas that need correction.
2. Second, correction is an opportunity to cultivate valuing God’s glory and other people’s good above our reputation. It helps us not think more highly of ourselves than we ought to think.
3. Third, God might bring correction through an unexpected person. We should keep our ears open and communicate to others receptivity to their input.

For the first time in its history the Desiring God Conference for Pastors, which took place last week, was devoted to the subject of Christian Hedonism—the teaching that God is most glorified in us when we are most satisfied in him.

In conjunction with the conference, it seemed good to revisit and remember some of those glad verses within the Psalter that command us to pursue our joy in God.

Delight yourself in the LORD; and He will give you the desires of your heart. (Psalm 37:4)

Be glad in the LORD and rejoice, you righteous ones; and shout for joy, all you who are upright in heart. (Psalm 32:11)

Sing for joy in the LORD, O you righteous ones; praise is becoming to the upright. (Psalm 33:1)

Let the nations be glad and sing for joy; for You will judge the peoples with uprightness and guide the nations on the earth. (Psalm 67:4)

Shout joyfully to the LORD, all the earth. Serve the LORD with gladness; come before Him with joyful singing. (Psalm 100:1)

For a fuller introduction to Christian Hedonism and its deep and broad biblical roots, I recommend checking out John Piper's Desiring God seminar (5 parts).

Yesterday, in my anticipation to hear John Piper's message on C. S. Lewis this coming Tuesday, I curiously checked the index of The Quotable Lewis for any listings under "biography." I wanted to see if Lewis himself ever said anything about what Piper is going to do with him.

Here's what I found. Not surprisingly, Lewis' words here point towards the theme of this year's Pastors Conference: The Pastor, the People, and the Pursuit of Joy.

It is a very consoling fact that so many books about real lives—biographies, autobiographies, letters, etc.—give one such an impression of happiness, in spite of the tragedies they all contain. What could be more tragic than the main outlines of Lamb's or Cowper's lives? But as soon as you open the letters of either, and see what they were writing from day to day and what a relish they got out of it, you almost begin to envy them. Perhaps the tragedies of real life contain more consolation and fun and gusto than the comedies of literature? (75; Originally published in The Letters of C. S. Lewis to Arthur Greeves [4 December 1932], p. 445)

Thirty years ago today John Piper preached his candidating sermon and gave his personal testimony at Bethlehem Baptist Church.

Needless to say, he got the job; and about half a year later he preached his installation sermon, "The Wisdom of Men and the Power of God."

Now a member of Bethlehem myself, I thank the Lord for this pastor. And I pray, Father, that you would keep him faithful, hopeful, and joyful in his continuing work of preaching a passion "for the supremacy of God in all things for the joy of all peoples through Jesus Christ."

Jesus keeps us off balance. We think we know that perfection is a fastball of justice, and he throws us the curveball of grace.

When I read Matthew 5:48 abstracted from it’s context, I’m thinking mainly in terms of justice.

You therefore must be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect.

“Perfect,” ah yes, surely that’s mainly about being just. But Jesus’ context gives this charge some wicked spin.

Despite what I would guess in extrapolating from verse 48, with my innate definition of perfection, Matthew 5:38-47 is all about moving beyond mere justice to God-like grace. “Perfection” in God is not merely “an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth” (verse 38) but turning the other cheek, giving more than is asked, walking the extra mile (verses 39-42).

The just thing would be to love those who love you and hate those who hate you (verse 43), but Jesus disorients us with this strange conception of perfection: “Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you” (verse 44).

Who is this guy—and what kind of serious rethinking (call it “new birth”) do we need to get in line with his Father in heaven?

I would think that “perfection” means giving the unrighteous what they deserve: no sunshine, no rain. But Jesus says about his Father, “He makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and the unjust” (verse 45).

The kind of perfection that Jesus says comes from his Father—and the kind he calls his disciples to pursue—does not find its sense of completion in delivering retribution for wrongs done. Rather, it is the perfection of a heart that finds so much fulfillment and satisfaction in the God of grace that it is able to extend grace to those who don’t deserve it.

What the Bible teaches keeps us in line with reality. But what the Bible includes keeps us balanced and protects us from ill-advised overstatement.

As he came to Christ C. S. Lewis was learning from J.R.R. Tolkein that Christianity is “true myth.” “It really happened.”

Then he says, “The ‘doctrines’ we get out of the true myth are of course less true: they are translations into our concepts and ideas of that which God has already expressed in language more adequate, namely the actual incarnation, crucifixion, and resurrection.”

My Bible awareness triggers a response: “More adequate” for what?

Certainly the events of incarnation, crucifixion and resurrection are “more adequate” to accomplish redemption. These events accomplished my redemption. No concept or idea could do that.

But these events are not “more adequate” for proclaiming the meaning of the events. Events are proclaimed with words. And words only have meaning when put together as concepts or ideas. This is how the apostles proclaimed the events so that people could grasp what happened and embrace the meaning of them and be saved.

For this we need words. Deeds are not adequate to communicate the meaning of deeds.

How do I know this? Why do I react this way to Lewis’ comment? Because the Bible is more than deeds. The Bible is dense with conceptual explanations of what God was doing in the deeds.

I infer from this that God considers the concepts and ideas of the Bible to be essential for grasping God’s purposes in the “true myth.”

I am protected from overstatement and imbalance by knowing what the Bible includes.

I encourage you to measure your favorite authors and your favorite quotes by what the Bible teaches and what the Bible includes.

Two recent events have me thinking about how we as Christians can love our neighbors—one global tragedy everyone knows about and a local tragedy you may not have heard about.

The earthquake in Haiti has caused massive destruction and suffering. The people in Haiti need help, and many thousands are responding. I'm pleased to report that Desiring God has partnered with three organizations, Food for the Hungry, Haiti Rescue Center, and Children's Hunger Fund, to provide some relief to the immediate suffering in the country.

The other event was a recent triple homicide at a Somali market one block from the Desiring God office. The front desk worker, Abdifatah Warfa, his cousin, Mohamed Warfa, who had just stopped in to give Abdifatah some tea, as well as a customer, Anwar Mohammed, were shot to death in a suspected robbery attempt.

A colleague and I went to the candlelight vigil the community held for these men, and I was struck with how little I really knew about these men and the thousands of East African immigrants in my community. I had passed this market dozens of times and never stopped in. Surely, at least once, I could have purchased a Coke and struck up a conversation?

We know that in this world, there will be tragedies and suffering. As Christian Hedonists, we need to stand ready to give an account for the hope and confidence we have in Christ (1 Peter 3:15). But if we never step out to meet others, it's not likely we'll ever have a chance to tell of the hope we have in God.

With these two events in mind, here are some practical things we can do to love our neighbors:

1. If you're able, go. Go to Haiti and serve.
2. Donate to churches and ministries that are working in Haiti.
3. Volunteer in your city. Help immigrants learn English. Babysit a neighbor's kids. Buy a Coke at a local market and get to know the clerk.
4. Be ready to give an account for the hope that you have. As you serve, look for chances to talk about the good news of the Gospel. Ultimately, if we truly love our neighbors, we will care not only for their immediate physical needs, but their spiritual needs as well.

What things are you or your church doing to love your neighbor? Leave a comment and let us know.

Jesus in Haiti
After the Earthquake

Do you consider safety, or your health,
          A sign from me?
I am not awed by might, nor struck by wealth,
          Or poverty.

O, I am struck! And crushed. Buried, I wince,
           And dying, pray,
A sympathetic Priest in Port-au-Prince,
          Even today.

But there, in those United States the boot
          Is on my face.
“Saul, Saul,” I ask, “Why do you persecute
           And not embrace?”

Your King, I lift my arms to you in peace
          And patient grief;
And summon now to Haiti enemies
          For my relief.

We are never more vulnerable to sin than when we are successful, admired by others, and prosperous, as King David tragically discovered.

*               *               *

It was spring again. David once had loved warm, fragrant spring afternoons on the palace roof. But this year the scent of almond blossoms smelled like deep regret. 

David had no desire to look toward Uriah’s empty house. If only he had not looked that way a year ago. The memory throbbed with pain. His conscience had warned him to stop watching Bathsheba. But in his desire-induced inertia it had felt like he couldn’t pull himself away.

What pathetic self-deception! Couldn’t pull himself away. He would never have tolerated such a weak excuse in another man. If Nathan had unexpectedly shown up while he was leering would he have pulled himself away? O yes! Wouldn’t have risked his precious reputation!

But there on the roof alone, he had lingered. And in those minutes, sinful indulgence metastasized into a wicked, ultimately lethal plan.

David wept. His sovereign, lustful selfishness had stripped a married woman of her honor, murdered her loyal, valiant husband, and killed his own innocent baby boy. Bathsheba was now left with a desolate, hollow sadness.

And he shuddered at the Lord’s dark promise: “The sword will never depart from your house”(2 Samuel 12:10). The destruction had not run its full course.

How had he come to this?

David thought back to those harrowing years when Saul chased him around Horesh. How often had he felt desperate? Daily he had depended on God for survival. He had longed for escape and peace in those days. Now he viewed them as among the best of his life.

And then came the tumultuous, heady years of uniting Judah and Israel under his kingship and subduing their enemies. And it had all climaxed with God’s almost unbelievable promise to establish David’s throne forever.

Had a man ever been so blessed by God? Every promise to him had been kept. Everything David touched had flourished. Never had Israel as a nation been so spiritually alive, so politically stable, so wealthy, so militarily powerful.

And at the peak of this unprecedented prosperity, David had committed such heinous sin. Why? How could he have resisted so many temptations in dangerous, difficult days and then yield at the height of success?

Almost as soon as the question formed in his mind he knew the answer. Pride. Monstrous, self-obsessed pride.

Honored by his God, a hero to his people, a terror to his enemies, surrounded by fawning assistants and overflowing affluence, the poisonous weed of self-worship had grown insidiously in David’s heart. The lowly shepherd that God had plucked by sheer grace from Bethlehem’s hills to serve as king had been eclipsed in his own mind by David the Great, the savior of Israel—a man whose exalted status entitled him to special privileges.

David cupped his face in his hands as his shame washed over him again. Bathsheba’s body had been nothing more than a special privilege he had decided to bestow on himself. And in so doing he had placed himself above God, his office, his nation, Uriah’s honor and life, Bathsheba’s welfare—everything. David had sacrificed everything to the idol of himself.

David fell on his face and wept again. And he poured out his broken, contrite heart to God.

But profound hope was woven into the deep remorse David felt. Knowing he deserved death, David marveled at and worshiped God for the unfathomable depths of mercy in the words, “The Lord also has put away your sin; you shall not die” (2 Samuel 12:13). It took his breath away. This word had come before a single sacrifice had been offered.

This was love that surpassed knowledge.  Something miraculous was at work here, something much more powerful than horrific sin.  David wasn’t quite sure how it worked.  What he did know is that he wanted other transgressors to know the amazingly gracious ways of God.

*               *               *

The greatest enemy of our souls is the pathologically selfish pride at the core of our fallen natures. If we look deep enough, this is what we will find feeding the strong, sinful cravings of our appetites.

And this is why prosperity can be so spiritually dangerous. We tend to see our need for God more clearly in adversity. But seasons of success can be our most perilous because we are so easily deceived into thinking more highly of ourselves than we ought to think. Self-exalting pride is what leads us to usurp God’s rightful rule. We must beware this danger that lurks in blessings.

And when we sin, we must run to and not avoid the throne of grace (Hebrews 4:16). On this side of the cross we now know fully what David didn’t: God put away our sin by placing them on himself. Only at the cross will we hear, “The Lord also has put away your sin; you shall not die.” Ever.

Over at Enjoying God Ministries, Sam Storms, keynote speaker for our upcoming pastors conference, gives some helpful instruction on preaching. 

In the second of three articles in his series An Appeal to All Pastors: Why and How Should We Preach, Sam gives us eight reasons why pastors should be committed to biblical preaching. 

1. We must preach because of the power of the Word of God to change human lives and to transform the experience of the church. 
2. We must preach because preaching is God's ordained means for making himself known to us.
3. We must preach because preaching not only communicates truth about God, it also mediates the very person and power of God.
4. We must preach because preaching (aside from reading) is the most effective means for transmitting the truths of Holy Scripture. 
5. We must preach because preaching is the fuel for worship. Preaching fans the flames of passion for Jesus. 
6. We must preach because preaching is not simply the fuel for worship, preaching is worship.
7. We must preach because preaching is the catalyst for church growth, renewal, and revival.
8. We must preach because preaching is the means by which the glory of God is revealed and imparted to those who listen with faith.

Read Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3 in Sam's series.

Today, 91 years ago, my father, William Solomon Hottle Piper, was born. When I gave my tribute to him at the Desiring God Pastors’ Conference I called it “Evangelist Bill Piper: Fundamentalist Full of Grace and Joy."

One of the strangest things about the book of Job is how the three “friends” (Eliphaz, Bildad, and Zophar) are restored to Job and to God. It is very round-about and teaches us surprising lessons about prayer.

After the LORD had spoken these words to Job, the LORD said to Eliphaz the Temanite: “My anger burns against you and against your two friends, for you have not spoken of me what is right, as my servant Job has. Now therefore take seven bulls and seven rams and go to my servant Job and offer up a burnt offering for yourselves. And my servant Job shall pray for you, for I will accept his prayer not to deal with you according to your folly.” (Job 42:7-8)

In verse 7 God says that his wrath is kindled against Eliphaz and his two friends “for you have not spoken of me what is right.” How then shall they be restored to God's fellowship and escape his wrath? 

God says that they must ask Job to pray for them as they offer up for themselves a burnt offering, “for I will accept his prayer not to deal with you according to your folly.” So they do this. “And the Lord accepted Job's prayer” (v. 9).

All of this happened not just for the three friends’ sake, but for Job’s. When he had prayed for them, everything changed for him. "The Lord restored the fortunes of Job, when he had prayed for his friends" (v. 10). 

So it appears that the condition for Job's friends to be restored to God was Job's forgiving intercession for them. And it appears also that the condition for God's restoring Job's fortunes was the same. 

It is remarkable that God would not simply accept the repentant prayers of these three friends for themselves. They had to get Job to pray for them. God would hear Job's prayer not theirs.

Perhaps the reason for this is that it is God's way of demanding (along the lines of Matt. 5:18-23) that there be reconciliation before there be acceptance of worship and forgiveness. 

The Lord's prayer says, "Forgive us our sins as we forgive those who sin against us." Job needed forgiveness. He also needed to forgive. His enemies also needed God’s forgiveness. So God brought them to Job, seeking his intercession on their behalf, and that is exactly the kind of love Jesus commands—“pray for those who persecute you.” 

And the three friends needed to seek forgiveness from Job before their prayers could be heard because Job's animosity toward them was their fault in large measure. If your brother has anything against you, go and be reconciled to your brother.

But the text does not say that God will hear their prayers when they patch things up with Job. It says that Job's prayer for them will be heard. So the dynamic here is not simply human forgiveness opening the way for the three to be heard in heaven. The dynamic is that God ordains that the prayers of some people will be received for the guilt of others.

Part of the reconciling process is the vertical intervention of Job on behalf of the three adversaries, not just the horizontal reconciliation with them. The prayer of Job for these three was essential for God not to "deal with them according to their folly." 

What we learn is that God wills to do some things in answer to prayer that he wants to do, but will not otherwise do. And we should be diligent to pray for others whose prayers for themselves may not be accepted for reasons we do not know.  It means we may be the appointed means of someone escaping the consequences of their folly, which they may be able to escape in no other way.

O, what eyes he had! He was like his hero, C. S. Lewis, in this regard. When he spoke of the tree he saw on the way to class this morning, you wondered why you had been so blind all your life. Since those days in classes with Clyde Kilby, Psalm 19:1 has been central to my life: “The sky is telling the glory of God.”

That night Dr. Kilby had a pastoral heart and a poet’s eye. He pled with us to stop seeking mental health in the mirror of self-analysis, but instead to drink in the remedies of God in nature.

He was not naïve. He knew of sin. He knew of the necessity of redemption in Christ. But he would have said that Christ purchased new eyes for us as well as new hearts. His plea was that we stop being unamazed by the strange glory of ordinary things.

He ended that lecture in 1976 with a list of resolutions. As a tribute to my teacher and a blessing to your soul, I offer them for your joy.

10 Resolutions for Mental Health

1. At least once every day I shall look steadily up at the sky and remember that I, a consciousness with a conscience, am on a planet traveling in space with wonderfully mysterious things above and about me.

2. Instead of the accustomed idea of a mindless and endless evolutionary change to which we can neither add nor subtract, I shall suppose the universe guided by an Intelligence which, as Aristotle said of Greek drama, requires a beginning, a middle, and an end.

I think this will save me from the cynicism expressed by Bertrand Russell before his death when he said: "There is darkness without, and when I die there will be darkness within. There is no splendor, no vastness anywhere, only triviality for a moment, and then nothing."

3. I shall not fall into the falsehood that this day, or any day, is merely another ambiguous and plodding twenty-four hours, but rather a unique event, filled, if I so wish, with worthy potentialities.

I shall not be fool enough to suppose that trouble and pain are wholly evil parentheses in my existence, but just as likely ladders to be climbed toward moral and spiritual manhood.

4. I shall not turn my life into a thin, straight line which prefers abstractions to reality. I shall know what I am doing when I abstract, which of course I shall often have to do.

5. I shall not demean my own uniqueness by envy of others. I shall stop boring into myself to discover what psychological or social categories I might belong to. Mostly I shall simply forget about myself and do my work.

6. I shall open my eyes and ears. Once every day I shall simply stare at a tree, a flower, a cloud, or a person. I shall not then be concerned at all to ask what they are but simply be glad that they are. I shall joyfully allow them the mystery of what Lewis calls their "divine, magical, terrifying and ecstatic" existence.

7. I shall sometimes look back at the freshness of vision I had in childhood and try, at least for a little while, to be, in the words of Lewis Carroll, the "child of the pure unclouded brow, and dreaming eyes of wonder."

8. I shall follow Darwin's advice and turn frequently to imaginative things such as good literature and good music, preferably, as Lewis suggests, an old book and timeless music.

9. I shall not allow the devilish onrush of this century to usurp all my energies but will instead, as Charles Williams suggested, "fulfill the moment as the moment." I shall try to live well just now because the only time that exists is now.

10. Even if I turn out to be wrong, I shall bet my life on the assumption that this world is not idiotic, neither run by an absentee landlord, but that today, this very day, some stroke is being added to the cosmic canvas that in due course I shall understand with joy as a stroke made by the architect who calls himself Alpha and Omega.

(Originally posted 12/31/07)

The fact that hundreds of the pages of God’s inspired word are devoted to poetry moves me. One of the effects is to make me aware that God thinks the sound of language matters. 

God has blessed and humbled me with the inability to speed read. I read about the same speed that I talk. I hear what I read as I read it. For years I tried not to. Speed reading consultants (I took their courses—in vain.) say that pronouncing the words, even in your head, turns a rabbit reader into a turtle. No use. I’m a turtle. 

So I take heart that so much of the Bible is poetry. It is self-evident to me that poetry is not meant to be speed-read, but ordinarily read aloud. So I would encourage you to supplement your speed with slow savoring of the way things are written to be heard. 

Consider this observation about what happens when poetry is read aloud and read well by a person who understands it. 

“Even after almost three millennia of written literature, poetry retains its appeal to the ear as well as to the eye; to hear a poem read aloud by someone who understands it, and who wishes to share that understanding with someone else, can be a crucial experience, instructing the silently reading eye ever thereafter to hear what it is seeing.” (John Hollander, Committed to Memory: 100 Best Poems to Memorize, 1)

Each year Christmas night finds members of my family feeling some melancholy. After weeks of anticipation, the Christmas celebrations have flashed by us and are suddenly gone. And we’re left standing, watching the Christmas taillights and music fade into the night.

But it’s possible that this moment of melancholy may be the best teaching moment of the whole season. Because as long as the beautiful gifts remain unopened around the tree and the events are still ahead of us, they can appear to be the hope we are waiting for. But when the tree is empty and events are past, we realize we are longing for a lasting hope.

So last night, as Pam and I tucked our kids into bed, we talked about a few things with them:

• Gifts and events can’t fill the soul. God gives us such things to enjoy. They are expressions of his generosity as well as ours, but gifts and celebrations themselves are not designed to satisfy. They're designed to point us to the Giver. Gifts are like sunbeams. We are not meant to love sunbeams but the Sun.
• Putting our hope in gifts will leave us empty. Many people live their lives looking for the right sunbeam to make them happy. But if we depend on anything in the world to satisfy our soul’s deepest desire, it will eventually leave us with that post-Christmas soul-ache. We will ask, “Is that all?” because we know deep down that’s not all there is. We are designed to treasure a Person, not his things.
• It is more blessed to give than receive. What kind of happiness this Christmas felt richer, getting the presents that you wanted or making someone else happy with something that you gave to them? Receiving is a blessing, but Jesus is right—giving is a greater blessing. A greedy soul lives in a small, lonely world. A generous soul lives in a wide world of love.

It’s just like God to let the glitter and flash of the celebrations (even in his honor) to pass and then to come to us in the quiet, even melancholic void they leave. Because often that’s when we are most likely to understand the hope he intends for us to have at Christmas.

(Originally posted 12/26/07)

Noël and Talitha and I recorded a Christmas greeting for you and a “glimpse” into our home and traditions.

And since I didn’t write the advent poems this year, I wrote this Christmas poem to read at our Christmas Eve services last night, in the hopes of sharing my love for Jesus and my joy in him.

In this smelly place he lay,
Smelly like the swine,
Smelly like the rotting hay,
Like your sin, and mine.
Do you see how low he lay?
Do you see how low?
There is lower yet to go.
Lower yet to go.

He is lying where they eat,
Lying where the swine—
Lying like a piece of meat
Where the hungry dine.
Do you see the flow complete
Do you see the flow?
There is greater love to show
Greater love to show.

Such a happy toddler there,
Happy like the birds,
Happy like the morning air
Filled with happy words.
Does he see or know or care?
Does he see or know:
O, how deep will be his woe
Deep will be his woe?

Knowing God was born like this
Knowing this is he,
Knowing somehow this is bliss
For the swine and me,
Is this love's full glow and kiss?
Is this love’s full glow?
There are deeper things to know,
Deeper things to know.

Mary musing every year,
Musing on her son,
Musing with a rising fear
Who will be the one:
Who will strike the blow and spear?
Who will strike the blow?
Does she know that blood must flow?
Know that blood must flow?

Jesus hanging on the tree,
Hanging like the meat,
Hanging there for swine like me,
Gives his flesh to eat.
Here is Life brought low and free.
Here is Life brought low.
O, how vast the debt I owe
Vast the debt I owe.

I hope you feel the same undeserved debt to the grace of God this year because of Christ. What an amazing Savior we have!

We’ve looked at Jesus’ full divinity under the heading “Jesus Is Lord” and his full humanity under “Jesus Is Savior.” Now we turn to his single personhood and utter uniqueness that makes him our soul-satisfying Treasure.

The term hypostatic union is much easier than it sounds, but the concept is as profound as anything in the universe—the personal union of the eternal Son of God with our humanity.

The English adjective hypostatic comes from the Greek word hupostasis. The word only appears four times in the New Testament—maybe most memorably in Hebrews 1:3, where Jesus is said to be “the radiance of the glory of God and the exact imprint of his nature.” Here the author of Hebrews uses the word in reference to the oneness of God. Both the Father and the Son are of the same “nature.” Jesus is “the exact imprint of his nature.”

However, in early church discussions, as Greek speakers tried to find agreeable terms with those who spoke in Latin, the word hupostasis came to denote not the sameness in the Godhead (the one divine essence) but the distinctness (the three divine persons). So it began to be used to refer to something like the English word person.

The Personal Union of Jesus’ Two Natures

So “hypostatic union” may sound fancy in English, but it’s a pretty simple term. Hypostatic means personal. The hypostatic union is the personal joining of Jesus’ two natures in one person.

Jesus has two complete natures—one fully human and one fully divine. What the doctrine of the hypostatic union teaches is that these two natures are united in one person in the God-man. Jesus is not two persons. He is one person. The hypostatic union is the joining of the divine and the human in the one person of Jesus.

What Is the Significance?

Why bother with this seemingly fancy term? What good is it to know about this hypostatic union? At the end of the day, the term can go, but the concept behind the term is infinitely precious—and worshipfully mind-stretching.

It is immeasurably sweet—and awe-inspiring—to know that Jesus’ two natures are perfectly united in his one person. Jesus is not divided. He is not two people. He is one person. As the Chalcedonian Creed (451 A.D.) states, his two natures are without confusion, without change, without division, and without separation. Jesus is one.

This means Jesus is one focal point for our worship. And as Jonathan Edwards preached, in this one-person God-man we find “an admirable conjunction of diverse excellencies.” Because of this hypostatic, one-person union, Jesus exhibits an unparalleled magnificence. No one person satisfies the complex longings of the human heart like the God-man.

God has made the human heart in such a way that it will never be eternally content with that which is only human. Finitude can’t slake our thirst for the infinite. And yet, in our finite humanity, we are significantly helped by a point of correspondence with the divine. God was glorious long before he became man in Jesus. But we are human, and unincarnate deity doesn’t connect with us in the same way as the God who became human. The conception of a god who never became man will not satisfy the human soul like the God who did.

One Person, For Us

And beyond just gazing at the spectacular person of Jesus, there is also the amazing gospel-laced revelation that the reason Jesus became the God-man was for us. His fully human nature joined in personal union to his eternally divine nature is a permanent showcase that Jesus, in perfect harmony with his Father, is undeterrably for us. He has demonstrated his love for us in that while we were still sinners, he took our nature to his one person and died for us.

(For more on the permanence of the incarnation, see “The Permanence of Christmas” Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3.)

Our good friend, Rick Gamache, preached a wonderful sermon on Isaiah 9:6 last Sunday. And he quoted C.H. Spurgeon reveling in the incarnation:

"Unto us a child is born, unto us a Son is given." As Jesus Christ is a child in his human nature, he is born, begotten of the Holy Ghost, born of the Virgin Mary. He is as truly-born, as certainly a child, as any other man that ever lived upon the face of the earth. He is thus in his humanity a child born. But as Jesus Christ is God's Son, he is not born; but given, begotten of his Father from before all worlds, begotten—not made, being of the same substance with the Father. The doctrine of the eternal affiliation of Christ is to be received as an undoubted truth of our holy religion. But as to any explanation of it, no man should venture thereon, for it remaineth among the deep things of God—one of those solemn mysteries indeed, into which the angels dare not look, nor do they desire to pry into it—a mystery which we must not attempt to fathom, for it is utterly beyond the grasp of any finite being. As well might a gnat seek to drink in the ocean, as a finite creature to comprehend the Eternal God. A God whom we could understand would be no God. If we could grasp him he could not be infinite: if we could understand him, then were he not divine."

Veiled in flesh the Godhead see;
Hail th’incarnate Deity,
Pleased as man with man to dwell,
Jesus, our Emmanuel.
(Charles Wesley, "Hark! the Herald Angels Sing")

A worshipful Christmas to you all!

Yesterday we summed up Jesus’ full divinity under the heading “Jesus Is Lord.” We said that the doctrine of the incarnation could be remembered with John 1:14, “The Word became flesh.” That “Word” is the divine second person of the Trinity, the eternal Word, who we know as Jesus.

Today we shift focus to Jesus’ full humanity. Not only did he remain fully divine when he took humanity to himself, but the humanity that he took was full humanity. And so Jesus has a fully human body, emotions, mind, and will—and this in no way compromises his deity.

Jesus’ Human Body

It is clear enough from the New Testament that Jesus had (and still has) a fully human body. Jesus was born (Luke 2:7). He grew (Luke 2:40, 52). He grew tired (John 4:6) and got thirsty (John 19:28). He got hungry (Matthew 4:2) and was physically weak (Matthew 4:11; Luke 23:26). He died (Luke 23:46). And he had a real human body after his resurrection (Luke 24:39; John 20:20, 27). Jesus’ full humanity even became one of the first tests of orthodoxy (1 John 4:2).

Jesus’ Human Emotions

Throughout the gospels, Jesus clearly manifests human emotions.

• When Jesus heard the centurion’s words of faith, “he marveled” (Matthew 8:10).
• He says in Matthew 26:38 that his “soul is very sorrowful, even to death.”
• In John 11:33-35, Jesus is “deeply moved in his spirit and greatly troubled” and even weeps.
• John 12:27 says, “Now is my soul troubled,”
• In John 13:21, he is “troubled in his spirit.”
• The author to the Hebrews writes that “Jesus offered up prayers and supplications, with loud cries and tears” (Hebrews 5:7).

John Calvin memorably summed it up: “Christ has put on our feelings along with our flesh.”

Jesus’ Human Mind

Jesus also has a fully human mind (in addition to his fully divine mind). Two key texts make this undeniable:

• Luke 2:52 - “Jesus increased in wisdom and in stature and in favor with God and man.”
• Mark 13:32 - “Concerning that day or that hour, no one knows, not even the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father.”

The second text, of course, is striking. For those who clearly affirm Jesus’ deity, Mark 13:32 seems like trouble. But what looks difficult at first glance proves to be a glorious confirmation of Jesus’ humanity—and a very helpful piece in formulating our Christology.

If Jesus is God, and God knows everything, how can Jesus not know when his second coming will be?

Answer: In addition to being fully divine, Jesus is fully human. He has both an infinite, divine mind and a finite, human mind. He can be said not to know things because he is human and finite—human minds are not omniscient. And Jesus can be said to know all things (John 21:17) because he is divine and infinite in his knowledge.  There is a real sense in which the God-man is both omniscient (as God) and not omniscient (as man).

Paradoxical as it is, we affirm that Jesus both knows all things and doesn’t know all things. For the unique, two-natured person of Christ, this is no contradiction but a peculiar glory of the God-man.

Jesus’ Human Will

Now, trickiest of all, Jesus not only has a divine will but also a human will. That’s two wills—one divine and one human. Two key texts on Jesus’ human will:

• John 6:38 - “I have come down from heaven, not to do my own will but the will of him who sent me.”
• Matthew 26:39 - “Not as I will, but as you will.”

Jesus has an infinite, divine will he shares with his Father, and he has a finite, human will that, while remaining an authentic human will, is moved in obedience into perfect sync with and submission to the divine will.

This Jesus is a spectacular person. He is utterly unique as fully God and fully man. And so there is only one mediator between God and man, the man Christ Jesus (1 Timothy 2:5).

Fully Divine, Fully Human

Jesus has a human body, heart, mind, and will. He is like us in every respect——except for sin (Hebrews 2:17; 4:15). How amazing that the divine Son of God would not just take on part of our humanity but all of it—and then take that true humanity all the way to the cross for us.

Jesus took a human body to save our bodies. And he took a human mind to save our minds. Without becoming man in his emotions, he could not have saved our emotions. And without taking a human will, he could not save our will. In the words of Gregory of Nazianzus, “That which he has not assumed he has not healed.”

He became man in full so that he might save us in full. Hallelujah, what a Savior!

Tomorrow, we’ll look at Jesus’ single personhood.

Advent is my yearly reminder to brush up on Christology, the doctrine of the person of Christ. I’ve found it helpful to approach the subject under three headings:

1. Jesus as Lord (fully divine)
2. Jesus as Savior (fully human)
3. Jesus as Treasure (one person)

So here’s part 1, with parts 2 and 3 on the way in the next couple days.

In this Christological triad (Lord-Savior-Treasure), Jesus’ Lordship is tied to his divinity and to him rightly being called Yahweh, the name surpassingly more excellent than angels (Heb. 1:4), the name above every name (Phil. 2:9). Here’s the connection between Lordship and the divine name.

Yahweh, the Lord

God’s personal name Yahweh, first revealed to Moses at the burning bush, was so sacred to the ancient Hebrews that they would not risk mispronouncing it by speaking it. So every time they came across the name while reading their Scriptures (our “Old Testament”), they would say Adonai, meaning Lord. So when the Greek translation of the Scriptures was produced, Yahweh was rendered Kurios (Greek for Lord), and so in “New Testament” times, Jesus being called Kurios had the effect of identifying him with the divine name Yahweh.

The divinity of Jesus is pervasive in the New Testament and so fundamental that it is usually assumed among first-century Christians, rather than argued for. But Jesus being called Lord may be the strongest way the New Testament ascribes divinity to Jesus. There are times where Jesus is called God, other times Son of Man has divine connotations, other times there are clear attributes of deity, but page after page Jesus is called Lord—and being so called, he is identified with God’s personal name.

The Incarnation

What we celebrate at Christmas is that Yahweh himself, the eternal God in the second person of the Trinity became man. We call this the incarnation, which refers literally to the in-fleshing of the Son of God—Jesus taking humanity to his person, being clothed, as it were, in human flesh. The doctrine of the incarnation teaches that the divine second person of the Trinity took on humanity in the person of Jesus of Nazareth, not by losing any of his divinity, but by adding humanity to himself. A helpful way to remember this heart of the incarnation—the divine adding the human—is John 1:14: “The Word became flesh.”

The Incarnation and the Cross

So the eternal Son of God, without ceasing to be God but remaining fully divine, took on full humanity. And what a magnificent doctrine and fuel for worship this is! Jesus didn’t just become man because he could. It wasn’t just a showoff move. He became man “for us and for our salvation” (in the words of Athanasius). The Word became flesh to save us from our sin and to free us to marvel at and enjoy the person in whom there is this unique union of divinity and humanity.

The incarnation is an eternal testimony that the fully divine Son and his Father are unswervingly for us.

Tomorrow we’ll look at Jesus’ full humanity.

December 21, 2009

In echoes of Capernaum the Lord
Inquired of me, his happy friend, and said,
“Will you, like these five thousand, take my bread
And leave?” But I replied, “Who can afford
To lift his little hand and wield the sword
Of pride, and sever now the hand that fed
Us with his love? No. No. I would be dead
If I should leave, and you be unadored.

I may as well in this exquisite night
Of pleasures—night to mark our wedding day—
Set out to find a harlot before light
To supplement my ecstasies for pay!
No. No. You only have the words of life
Nor will I dream of any other wife.”

I recently picked up A Severe Mercy. It’s the story of a couple whose initial “high pagan love” for one another is eventually assaulted and sanctified by a greater love—God’s love.

Before starting the book I knew that C. S. Lewis—whose biography John Piper is presenting at our upcoming pastors conference—plays a major role in their story. But I was not aware of a similarly strong connection between the theme of our conference and their story—the pursuit of joy.

The author recalls a “revelation” he received as a yet unsaved fifteen-year-old:

He had been wont to despise emotions: girls were emotional, girls were weak, emotions—tears—were weakness. But this morning he was thinking that being a great brain in a tower, nothing but a brain, wouldn’t be much fun. No excitement, no dog to love, no joy in the blue sky—no feelings at all. But feelings—feelings are emotions! He was suddenly overwhelmed by the revelation that what makes life worth living is, precisely, the emotions. But, then—this was awful!—maybe girls with their tears and laughter were getting more out of life. Shattering! He checked himself: showing one’s emotions was not the thing: having them was. …

What is beauty but something that is responded to with emotion? Courage, at least partly, is emotional. All the splendour of life. But if the best of life is, in fact, emotional, then one wanted the highest, purest emotions: and that meant joy. Joy was the highest.

How did one find joy? In books it seemed to be found in love—a great love. … But in the books again, great joy through love seemed always to go hand in hand with frightful pain. Still, he thought, looking out across the meadow, still, the joy would be worth the pain—if, indeed, they went together. If there were a choice—and he suspected there was—a choice between, on the one hand, the heights and the depths and, on the other hand, some sort of safe, cautious middle way, he, for one, here and now chose the heights and the depths. (18)

When G. K. Chesterton was arguing against a rationalist who denied miracles on the ground that experience is against it, he cited this:

There was a great Irish Rationalist of this school who, when he was told that a witness had seen him commit a murder, said he could bring a hundred witnesses who had not seen him commit it. (Gilbert Keith Chesterton, 176)

Reflecting on why God put Abraham’s faith to the test by commanding him to offer his son, Lewis says,

“If God then is omniscient, he must have known what Abraham would do, without any experiment. Why then this needless torture?” But as St. Augustine points out, whatever God knew, Abraham at any rate did not know that his obedience would endure such a command until the event taught him: and the obedience which he did not know that he would choose, he cannot be said to have chosen. The reality of Abraham’s obedience was the act itself; and what God knew in knowing that Abraham “would obey” was Abraham’s actual obedience on that mountain top a that moment. To say that God “need not have tried the experiment” is to say that because God knows, the thing known by God need not to exist. (The Problem of Pain, 101)

How will our home look if our celebration is a picture of anticipation and waiting for God’s plan to be completed, a picture of our joy in the salvation he has begun for us? What visible things will fill our house as we celebrate what God has done through Jesus?

Our very first Christmas was in the middle of our honeymoon, so our traditions began the second year of marriage. We visited our families before Christmas, and returned across the country to our small place late at night on December 21. We didn’t have any decorations, the time was short, and our budget was limited, so we decided not to buy a tree. I had found a tiny nativity set at an international gift shop.

On Christmas morning, the two of us sat on the floor beside a low, small table with that creche between us. Christmas carols played softly from the radio as we opened each other’s gifts. It seemed exactly right that Jesus be the visible center.

So every year since then, a special crèche has been the focal point of our celebration. We arrange it on a table and collect our gifts underneath. I usually use a colorful length of material from a missions setting as a table cover. This table is often the gathering place for our family devotions during December. Anyone who visits sees can see that this is the center of our celebration.

We also use a manger scene as part of our Advent candle arrangement, so the focus of our waiting is visible before us. Other uses for a crèche might be:

• As an unbreakable set for the children to play with.
• As manger scene ornaments for the Christmas tree.
• As a stained glass or colored cellophane window arrangement, visible from the street.
• As a play corner with toy lamb, baby doll and appropriate dress-ups

One friend told me about her crèche collection.

I try to find one in every place I visit. I give traveling friends $20 to spend on a nativity for me if they happen to see one where they are going. I find them at garage sales and thrift stores and after-Christmas sales, and people give them to me as gifts. I have more than a hundred now from all over the world, and when I get them out for Christmas it is a wonderful reminder that one day people from all tribes and tongues and people and languages—not just my own country—will worship the King.

They’re my favorite sort of keepsake when I’m traveling too. And I look for them at special prices after Christmas. But I have no idea how many I have because I keep giving them away.

One thing has changed from earlier years. When Talitha joined our family, I realized how often Jesus is portrayed fair and blond, which he most likely wasn’t. Now I look for figures with darker skin and hair or made from a material like wood or clay that doesn’t show skin tone.

I want my decorations and celebration to reflect the truth that Jesus is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world, of all peoples.

(Adapted from Treasuring God in Our Traditions)