Whatcha cryin' for?

So I just turned on the TV and there was a drama playing with a girl telling someone off camera that she loved them, but she was crying... just as I was wondering why she looked so sad (was the guy about to leave the country? was theirs a forbidden love? Had I misunderstand the Japanese? - very possible!) the camera zoomed out to show that it was at a funeral. Just one of those times that remind me how important a proper understand of the context is if you want to know the meaning of something. This is a lesson that goes (at least) 2 ways for me:

1. When it comes to dealing with differences in culture, it is really important not to judge something based on my presumptions. Often asking a few simple questions about the cause and reason for a practise, etc. shows that rather than being random and stupid, it is actually very logical and perfectly in line with the underlying world-view of the culture.

2. When talking to people about Jesus it is really key that I don't presume that people understand more than they. If I do this then people will potentially totally misunderstand what I'm talking about and will probably end up thinking that I'm urging them to adopt a random set of religious beliefs and practices, rather than seeing that the (true) story of Jesus Christ really is great news.

And then (back to the TV show) the guy they were mourning over walked into the room and there was the most incredibly fake, over-the-top reaction shot that I've ever seen!

I've Been Reading!

So, yeah, I can't even clearly remember the last time I blogged, which is not particularly awesome as I wanted to be much more consistent in posting thoughts up here. But anywho, "sho ga nai" as they say in Japan ("can't be helped"-ish), no use crying over spilt milk, etc. so I thought a nice and easy way to get the proverbial ball rolling again would be to highlight some of the books and things I've been reading in my absence. So...

The Cross of Christ - John Stott
This book is quite simply brilliant! Truly it is. If you haven't read it then you really, really should. In fact why not stop whatever you're doing and go and beg/borrow/buy a copy right now... got it? Good!

Why do I like this book so much? It is the best study I have ever read of 'the matter of first importance', that is (as the title says) the Cross of Christ. It is a pretty hefty book, but, I think, fairly accessible to anyone prepared to put in the time required to go through it (I read it over the space of a few months) with enough footnotes and Bible passages to keep the most geeky reader more than happy - there's even a study section at the end (at least there is in my edition) with some very good questions.

Contents-wise, there are 4 sections to the book that flow quite nicely together:
Approaching The Cross
The Heart of The Cross
The Achievement of The Cross
Living Under The Cross
They basically do what they say, taking you from an introduction into what happened on the cross, then going deeper into why it was necessary for Christ to die on the cross, moving through what it subjectively means for us and then finishing by showing what it should/could look like to live in light of what the Cross of Christ (the event, not the book!) means.

The style of writing is such that it felt as if John Stott was walking with me through the Bible, helping me not only to understand better what Christ went through at Calvary, but also helping me to feel the weight of the glory of that terribly awesome day. John Stott deals with the many and varied arguments against the understanding he gives of Jesus' death, but the book is far from being simply another academic debate over Greek grammar: it is a heart-felt plea for The Cross of Christ to be given the intellectual and emotional attention that it deserves.

Well this has actually become a lot longer than I was planning so I'll stop there and maybe I'll post mini reviews of the other things I'll be reading in the next few weeks. I will try to ensure there is not another obscenely long silence before my next post.

Ja, mata ne! (See you next time).

Should We Call Jesus Our Homeboy?

I noticed the other day that one of my friends on Facebook has as his 'Religious Views', 'Jesus is my homeboy' and it reminded me of a couple of years ago when I bought a T-shirt with that same slogan printed on it, from a Spring Harvest holiday stall (in case you were interested). One day a good friend of mine made the humble and gentle observation that he thought it was a bit disrespectful; he asked a question something like, 'I wonder whether you would actually wear it in front of Jesus?'. A few days later and the t-shirt was gone. The answer to his question was an obvious 'no'.

The reason for this has been hammered home to me recently by a couple of excellent sermons I have listened to on the subject of God's holiness. E.g. R.C. Sproul 'The Holiness of God'

One thing that Sproul points out is that when, in Isaiah's vision of the LORD, God is described as 'holy, holy, holy' this is a Hebrew literary tool for adding emphasis. E.g. In Genesis 14:10 when the kings of Sodom and Gomorrah were fleeing, a literal translation would read 'they fell into the pit pits'. But the only time in the Bible when there is every 3-fold repetition used is to refer to God's holiness. God is 'holy, holy, holy'.

So... whilst Jesus does indeed tell His disciples, 'I no longer call you servants, but now I call you my friends'. This does not mean that our response should be to presumptuously bust out all the slang terms we have to refer to someone who is our peer and use them to describe Jesus. He is not our peer. Yes He is our friend but before that He is our Lord and our Saviour. And He is holy, holy, holy and we are not even once over holy - we are sinful, very sinful.

Some might protest that I am ignoring the fact that through Jesus' work on the cross we are not sinful, we have been cleansed and forgiven of all our sinfulness and so we are, in effect, holy, thus justifying our use of phrases such as 'homeboy' to refer to Jesus. For instance we are told in Peter's letter that we are 'a holy priesthood'. There are a few things I would say to this:

The angels in Isaiah's vision were, well angels. They were not sinful human beings, they were without sin, and in that respect they were holy. But what was their response? Did they casually hi five God with a shout of 'what's up homeboy?'? No, they covered their feet and their faces and they shouted, 'holy, holy, holy is the LORD God almighty'.

This is the same sort of response that John (who was one of Jesus' closest friends) had when He encountered Jesus face to face in his vision (Revelation 1:17). John was not alien to the idea of justification, in fact he teaches us on it. But again, when he saw Jesus there was no presumption, no light-hearted friendly greeting - he 'fell on the floor as if dead'. Why? Because Jesus is 'holy, holy, holy'.

To call someone a friend refers to the level of openness and intimacy in the relationship. To call someone 'homeboy' has the clear and strong implication that they are your equal. And Jesus is not our equal. John the baptist stated that he was 'unworthy to untie the strap' of Jesus' sandals. Now either John was one of those self-abasing, falsely humble, quiet types or he really meant that. His interaction with the religious and political leaders shows that he was not unconfident or self-abasing and so we are only left with the fact that he meant what he said. Jesus called John the greatest amongst men and said he was the re-embodiment (possibly the wrong phrase!) of the great prophet Elijiah and yet John said that he was not even worthy to untie Jesus' sandal - he did not try to claim that Jesus was somehow his equal. I wonder how many of us could join John by saying from that heart that we are not even worthy to untie Jesus' sandals?

Simply referring to Jesus as 'homeboy' robs Him of honour and us of joy. It robs Jesus of honour because He is not just our friend - He is the creator, sustainer, ruler, saviour and judge of the universe. And it robs us of our joy because we do not simply need a mate, we need someone to rescue and rule over us.

This is why Jesus is not referred to as 'our homeboy and saviour' in any of the letters that make up most of the new testament, or in the account of early church. He is always introduced as 'our Lord and saviour', because that is whom He is. He is holy, holy, holy.

So, is Jesus our friend? Absolutely! Should we therefore refer to Him as our 'homeboy'? I really don't think we should. And if you do, then ask yourself the question I was asked: would you be happy wearing a 'Jesus is my homeboy' t-shirt in front of Jesus Christ Himself?

Here endeth my rant!

It's Not What You Know... It's How Much You're Willing to Learn

I don't know if the need appears as obvious as I feel to be, but I would like to become wiser, a lot wiser. And a few things I've learnt recently have drastically changed my understanding of what that actually means.

See, I've started reading my way through the book of proverbs and one of the things that continual strikes me as I do is the way that Solomon talks about wisdom. It is just so totally different to the way I (and I don't think I'm alone in this) would tend to think of it. When I hear the word 'wisdom' my reaction to to think in terms of quantity: wisdom is stuff that you know, and the more stuff you know the wiser you are, to put it crudely. However, the Bible doesn't talk like that at all, rather wisdom is spoken of in terms of quality: wisdom is a humility that you possess, which allows you to learn stuff.

So, we see, for example, statements like this:

'The beginning of wisdom is this: get wisdom.' (4:7)

'When pride comes, then comes disgrace,
but with the humble is wisdom.' (11:2)

'Whoever loves discipline loves knowledge,
but he who hates reproof is stupid.' (12:1)

'A wise son hears his father's instruction,
but a scoffer does not listen to rebuke.' (13:1)

Jesus' brother James, makes similarly startling claims in his letter, where he writes of 'the meekness of wisdom'. Isn't that a really weird phrase, 'the meekness of wisdom'? Shortly afterwards he expounds on this by explaining that 'the wisdom from above is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, open to reason, full of mercy and good fruits, impartial, and sincere.' (3:17)

I have also been informed recently (by someone whom I think is fairly trustworthy) that when Solomon asks God for wisdom, a more literal translation from the Hebrew would be that he asked for 'a listening heart'. In other words, Solomon wanted to be able to so listen to God and to others that he would become wise, as he obviously did - this was no matrix-style download of raw data, this was a powerful change of heart; the sort of change that I would quite like!

Now to me, this is simply shocking: it is a complete reversal of thinking almost. Being wise does not consist in knowing lots but in desiring to learn lots, from whomever offers it. And boasting about how much you know actually makes you stupid! It seems that it is very easy to swing from wisdom to stupidity (and vice versa) we simply need to acknowledge that we have a lot to learn, regardless of how much we know. But as they say, the simplest things in the world are often the hardest to do. I'm planning on working through James again, to try to pick this apart, so if I get any insights into this I'll let you know and if you have any of your own then please share them.

So all of that is really just an overly long-winded way of restating the title of this post: it's not what you know, it's how much you're willing to learn.

Have I Been 'Baptised with The Spirit'?

During my year on Relay I (ironically given how a lot of folk seem to see UCCF as being 'conservative'), and continuing afterwards, I became fairly convinced that the Christian life should be powerfully experiential (or 'experimental' if you're a puritan!). That there are many truths in the Bible that we should experience, and not simply understand, or trust in a purely cerebral sense - in short, my theology became quite charismatic (should that be a capital 'C'?). And it seems of late that a lot of my experience has been catching up with my theology.

One of the major points of contention that I tried to get my head around was the issue of 'baptism with The Holy Spirit', and it is still an area that I am not fully set on. I am indeed convinced from The Bible that we should seek to be continually empowered by the Holy Spirit, after being Christians, and that this can happen in 'baptism in The Spirit' experience as well as gradually. What I am unsure of is whether The Bible teaches that there is a unique one-off 'baptism' experience, or whether being 'baptised' with the Spirit is synonymous with being 'filled' with the Spirit. I think I've explained that quite badly, and maybe only those who have/are also struggled through this Biblical issue will understand what I'm trying to say (and maybe not even that!).

However, I came across this quote a short while ago from John Piper, and I think it describes better than I could what has happened to me recently, and which I hope will be encouraging and challenging,

Let me use an illustration from Martin Lloyd-Jones in his book Joy Unspeakable to describe the difference between common Christian living and what happens when the Holy Spirit "clothes" a person with power or "comes upon" a person with this unusual power.

He says it is like a child walking along holding his father's hand. All is well. The child is happy. He feels secure. His father loves him. He believes that his father loves him but there is no unusual urge to talk about this or sing about it. It is true and it is pleasant.

Then suddenly the father startles the child by reaching down and sweeping him up into his arms and hugging him tightly and kissing him on the neck and whispering, "I love you so much!" And then holding the stunned child back so that he can look into his face and saying with all his heart, "I am so glad you are mine." Then hugging him once more with unspeakable warmth and affection. Then he puts the child down and they continue their walk.

This, Lloyd-Jones says, is what happens when a person is baptized with the Holy Spirit. A pleasant and happy walk with God is swept up into an unspeakable new level of joy and love and assurance and reality that leaves the Christian so utterly certain of the immediate reality of Jesus that he is overflowing in praise and more free and bold in witness than he ever imagined he could be.

The child is simply stunned. He doesn't know whether to cry or shout or fall down or run, he is so happy. The fuses of love are so overloaded they almost blow out. The subconscious doubts—that he wasn't thinking about at the time, but that pop up every now and then—are gone! And in their place is utter and indestructible assurance, so that you know that you know that you know that God is real and that Jesus lives and that you are loved, and that to be saved is the greatest thing in the world. And as you walk on down the street you can scarcely contain yourself, and you want to cry out, "My father loves me! My father loves me! O, what a great father I have! What a father! What a father!"

If anyone has any ideas/views/opinions on what happened to me (and I imagine that's most people), I'll be glad to hear them...

Only 8 Cookies?

I bought a box of cookies today. The box looked quite appetising and not very unlike this:



However, upon opening the box I was greatly dismayed. There were only 8 cookies inside the box, each of them individually wrapped up. I was expecting a shower of cookies to come tumbling out for my happy consumption, but instead there were just 8 cookies. Eight! Understandably I was quite annoyed at this terrible injustice that had been perpetrated against me. It just seemed so unfair.

And so here I am sat thinking about how badly done by I am to be tricked into
I'm not thinking, about the fact that I have a cookie to enjoy with my hot chocolate in my warm and dry apartment, whilst I read God's very words, in a language I can understand, with eyes that work perfectly well and with enough food in my fridge to feed me for a few days, and money to buy more food when it runs out (money that I have not earned and was freely given to me, out of the generosity of people's hearts), and I'm most certainly not thinking of those things with thanksgiving towards the Lord who blessed me with all these things. There are a million and 1 undeserved good things in my life, that I can enjoy - and enjoy with peace and joy knowing that God Himself has rescued me from my rebellion against Him at the cost of His own Son - and am I giving God thanks for these things? No, instead I am annoyed because the box of cookies that I bought had less cookies in than I thought.

I find that I am both amazed at my own selfishness and at the same time incredibly grateful to my heavenly Father, who is able and willing to teach me hard lessons about how much I need to change through the medium of baked-goods.

The Old Folk Are Not Losers

I've just started reading John Owen's 'Mortification of Sin' and also listening to an audio version of Calvin's work 'On Prayer and the Christian Life' (I think abridged) and I've been (half) reminded of a quote by C.S. Lewis that goes something like,

If we had to choose between only reading old books or only reading new books, we should go with old books: not because they are necessarily better but because each generation has it's own blind-spots and old books will therefore reveal and highlight the very things that we're blind to.

(I'm not sure if quote marks are valid since I've probably made most of that up, I trust Lewis will forgive me!)

Now the problem with old books is that they're often really difficult to read! They're full of words that we no longer use and were written by folk who seemingly thought ambiguity is next to godliness. So why bother? Well, besides from the reason above, there is this quote by John Piper (again, I think this is about right)

Raking is easy but all you get is leaves, digging is hard but you might find gold.

I can say that from my own experience this is really true. When I read John Owen I need 2 extra hands: 1 to hold a Bible for all his references, and the other to hold a dictionary. But it is definitely worth it, and there is more meat for your soul (or a quorn burger if you're that way inclined) in a short John Owen book than in probably half of the Wesley Owen top 10 books put together.

So, in short: read old books!