Prayer and the Spirit (01/16/25)

There is a strong connection between prayer and provision as Paul speaks of his assurance.  It is not so evident in English, sounding more like two distinct ideas: Things will work out through your prayers, and things will work out through the provision of the Spirit.  But the JFB kindly points out the close-coupled nature of these two things, as presented in the Greek.  Bearing in mind that Greek syntax includes the definite article far more often than we would tend to do in English, it is a marker of that unity of function, if you will, that it appears only once in this instance.  Stripping away the supporting descriptives, it is through the prayer and provision.  The two function as a unit.

Now, given that the Philippians had just sent along a contribution towards Paul’s material support, one might incline to lay both prayer and provision at the feet of the Philippians, were it not for those supporting clauses.  It is your prayers, Philippians, but it is the Spirit’s provision.  Indeed, we could say that even in regard to the support they had sent.  They had sent, yet it remained the Spirit’s provision, supplied through them.  Here, of course, the particular matter of provision is concerned not with paying rent, but with deliverance.  We can, if we so desire, chase through questions of just what deliverance it was Paul had in view, but I think we can accept that the assurance he asserts in regard to it must move us away from considerations of the outcome of his upcoming trial.  Rather, it seems, his focus is on remaining the godly evangelist throughout.

Here, though, I wish to pursue this connected nature of prayer and provision a bit more, not least because I find that in this case, the perspectives I had developed in earlier notes bear up well alongside the things I find our various commentaries saying.  I had written that we ought to, “count the power and provision of the Spirit as primary here, for even where ‘your prayers’ contribute, it is by means of the power and provision of the Spirit.”  And I do think it important that we retain this perspective with all care.  I don’t go so far as to suppose I need to pray first that God would tell me what to pray.  I see it, and I get the intention, I think.  We don’t wish to be found praying against the will of God, but then, this approach seems to me to open up the possibility that we are doing just that by insisting He tell us what to pray, lest we get it wrong.  We have our Advocate, the Holy Spirit to review and revise our petitions before they are presented before the throne of grace.  One might think that sufficient.  And, from a fatherly perspective, I should think God would expect His children to grow up sufficiently as to have a pretty good sense of what will and won’t reflect His will, not to mention, having gained the wisdom to leave the answer to Him.

I feel the need to pursue this a bit further.  For one, I don’t see any evidence from anywhere in Scripture of this ever having been the practice of any man of God.  I don’t see it in Moses.  I don’t see it in David.  I don’t see it even in Jesus.  They prayed from the heart.  They prayed with the humility that recognizes that it’s God’s prerogative to answer as He sees fit, and it is to our best advantage that it should be so.  They prayed as honestly as they did earnestly, and they did so with hearts and minds open to hear the response of God.  I see it so often in David’s psalms, which are prayers.  He begins with one attitude, one frame of mind.  But by the end of his prayer, that perspective has changed significantly.  We hear at the outset from a wounded, troubled spirit, but by the end, we are hearing God’s confident assessment, and hearing David’s heart being tuned to that assessment.  Prayer is, after all, intended as a two-way communication.

On the one hand, I would say that communication often consists with prayer as the speaker, and study as the receiver, if I wish to apply the analogy of a telephone or headset.  We can’t hear so well when we’re busily speaking out our prayers.  Neither can we speak so much when we are occupied with reading and meditating upon God’s Word.  Yet, I would have to say that in these studies, I do think there is both, and I think that in prayer there is both.  We may speak in prayer, yet it is with the conscience informed by our Advocate, the Holy Spirit.  We may receive in study, yet it is clear that our own thoughts are a large part of the exercise.

If I look at this process I follow in studying, there is that step of reading what I have gathered from my questions, my looking at definitions and syntax, from other passages brought to my attention, and from commentaries.  There is the phase of pure data collection, as it were.  But then, there is that state of reviewing what was collected, seeing what stands out.  Ideally, this has been done with intentional prayer, seeking that the Spirit would cause those things to stand out that He wishes to communicate, that He sees that I need to consider more fully.  But in practice, it is more often the case that I am simply trusting Him to do so.  That might be something I should address.  But I incline to think that it is as it should be.  Lord, do please correct my thinking if I am wrong about this, and simply excusing my own weakness.

But I do often find that as I pursue these collected points, as I am doing now, my considerations are often turned in unexpected, unplanned directions.  Arguably, that’s what has just transpired above.  That wasn’t what I had intended to consider here, but it comes up, and I feel I must at least let that thought develop a bit, that I should seek to pursue what it seems the Spirit is giving me to pursue.  In these private times, I sometimes feel that I am not as completely in that place of being Spirit-led as I should be.  Yet, there is something in this practice that does seem to be preparing me for those more public occasions; something that frees me, on those occasions, to be more fully led by Him to tailor the message in accordance with His intentions.  And you know?  It’s a good feeling.  No.  It’s an incredible feeling, when you know that He has in fact taken position in the driver’s seat and you have been faithful to take His direction.

Now, I tend to see that in terms of study and teaching, because that’s where my focus more often is.  But put it into the realm of prayer.  There, too, should not the same apply?  Perhaps my wife is not so very far off with her intention of praying as she hears from the Spirit.  But I do think it’s a both/and matter.  Pushed too far, it seems to me there is an abdication of our own responsibility.  Yet, there’s something to it.  Perhaps we shall find the point of balance, where these two approaches are properly harmonized and tempered.

But, let me get back on course, just a bit.  Coming back to the JFB, with its observation as to the close connection of prayer and provision, there is a two-fold point made, which echoes what I had pulled in from my earlier notes.  They observe that prayer leads to the consequent supply from the Spirit.  They then come around the other side of that idea and put forth that the supply of the Spirit is obtained through prayer.  Valid points.  Undeniable, even.  But left as they are, it can lead us into some idea that the Spirit’s provision is dependent upon or contingent upon our prayers.  That is to say, it can put us into a mindset that has us in charge, and the Spirit subservient, and that simply will not do.  Let me apply the corrective from Calvin.  “The supply of the Spirit is the efficient cause, while prayer is the subordinate help.”  That may be a bit too heady, too philosophical for some.  Suffice to say that God is never in need.  God’s actions are never dependent upon any contingency, such that He cannot act except this thing first be done.  Yet, it may well be that by His own determination and will, He will not.  That’s a huge distinction.

I recall a comment R.C. Sproul had made years ago, reflecting on his days in seminary.  The professor had asked why we should pray, if God is in charge, and does as He wills.  Struggling to find a sufficiently pious response and finding nothing on offer, he had answered simply, “because He tells us to do so.”  Which is precisely it.  God has ordained that our prayers should be integral to His answers.  Does that render our prayers powerful?  I don’t honestly think so, no.  Does it mean that God has made Himself dependent on our obedience.  Not likely.  I’m not even sure we could count it possible.  God is all-wise.  He must surely know better than to leave outcomes up to our flakiness in complying to His will.  But then, I could also observe that all-knowing God is quite aware of our flakiness, and knows a priori when we shall fail to pray as we should have done.  Which is to say, His plans have taken our failures into account every bit as much as our compliance.

But it comes back to that fact that He desires that we would pray.  He wants to hear from us, and He wants to hear us speaking honestly with Him, not just saying the things we suppose He wants to hear.  Why?  Because such honest exposure of our hearts to Him demonstrates trust in Him.  It shows, I should think, that we truly account Him our Father, and not just some power to be appeased.  It shows that we have got beyond pagan perceptions of deity and come to know Him as He has revealed Himself to be.  If He is our Father, and we are His children, then we ought to come before Him with that confidence of heart.  It’s not the confidence that we shall have precisely what we have asked for, fully in accordance with our wishes.  Indeed, it ought to be our chiefest wish that this would not be the case.  Rather, we come giving honest expression of our desires and concerns, trusting that He will know what best be done, and shall see to it that this best is what is done.

Let me bring Clarke in at this point.  Prayer is God’s chosen means of support.  He has chosen that it should be this way, that we should have a part in His provision not solely for ourselves, but for those who minister, for those we account our brothers, and even, I would have to insist, for those who are as yet His enemies, or at the very least, estranged.  His supply, His provision, furnishes what is needed, whether it is strength to cope with infirmity, wisdom to navigate a contentious situation, powers of reason by which to gain understanding; whether it is civil trial or doctrinal disagreement, or simply the trials common to living and working in community.  We need God’s support, and by His choice, prayer is a needful component of it.  It comes back to what the JFB was saying, prayer is the means God has chosen by which to retrieve and receive what the Spirit supplies.  I’ll add the echo of Matthe Henry here.  “Whatever turns to our salvation is by the supply or the aids and assistance of the Spirit of Christ; and prayer is the appointed means of fetching in that supply.”  I add emphasis to the whatever part.  That supply and aid may come from most unexpected directions, may be handed to us by the least likely of carriers. 

It strikes me that I have often lost sight of this.  Whether it’s because I have become too caught up in my own part in the business of provision, the things I bring to a job, the ways I am handling our income and expenses, and so on, or whether it’s because I seek to remain only loosely attached to financial concerns, and so, tend not to focus on sudden gifts and bonuses and the like, lest I allow these things to become idols in my life, I can’t safely say.  But I can say that between these things, I can tend to lose the sense of wonder at how God answers, even when I haven’t particularly been praying.  This came up just the other day, Jan recollecting quite clearly a bonus that just happened to have come in pretty much immediately after an act of generosity on our part, and in fact, matched that act almost dollar for dollar.  And it had completely gone from my memory until, at her urging, I went back and reviewed the books.  Oh, yes.  Forgot about that.  And rather fully failed to note the connection.  I think the forgetfulness is okay, and a bit of a protection, as I say, against becoming idolatrously attached to income.  It’s a care I feel all the more keenly, being the one charged with managing the bills, watching the accounts, and so on.  Easy to get too caught up in cares over profit and loss, too concerned with the nest egg and not enough with living.  But this desire to remain detached, as it were, must not preclude perceiving these godly coincidences of provision.  I used to know better.  I need to know better again.

But let me come back to that whatever.  If prayer is the appointed means of fetching to ourselves what God desires to provide, then must I not accept that even those prayers are by the aid and assistance of the Spirit of Christ?  Prayer is not, in that sense, a prerequisite to provision, but a portion of that provision.  It is one thing, I suppose, to recognize that this is the case as we pray for others, and I think it well that our prayers should, for the most part, be turned outward, towards our fellow man.  And there, isn’t there something of a warming inside to know that our prayers are in fact part of the provision of the Spirit for our brother?  And isn’t it our ardent hope that their prayers on our behalf will in fact bring about the Spirit’s provision for our need?

It warms our affections, because it allows that we have a part in God’s plans.  This is the case with all good works.  It’s not that God needs us to do them.  God does not need.  I keep saying that because we need to keep mindful of that.  But God knows our need.  He knows not only our need to which we give expression in prayer.  He also knows our need to feel needed, our need to be useful in some fashion.  I have commented before as to how this need to be useful plays into the issues that arise out of the welfare state mentality.  Oh, if we just give them their basic income, it shall leave them free to explore their self-actuation.  I mean, I could imagine, I suppose, being sufficiently funded without the need for employment that I might pursue my musical pursuits more single-mindedly.  But then, too, were I to do so in such fashion, I think I should swiftly feel a lack of that purpose found in working.  I would, in due course, begin to feel like an appendix on the body of society, still there, still draining off resources, but contributing nothing.

If all we were in God’s kingdom were passive recipients of His bounty, I suspect we would have the same feeling, the same dreadful sense of our existence being entirely pointless.  Indeed, I expect it would lead to a rather nihilistic perspective on life.  Nothing I do matters.  No decision I make has any bearing on anything.  God’s going to do what He wants to do, so why should I bother?  It kind of comes back to that, why should I pray if God’s going to do as He intends anyway?  Because by prayer we are participating in His work.  By those good works we do in accordance with His good purpose we are participants in His grand design, and that really is a wonderful thing.  We have this incredible privilege of working alongside our Father.  It’s not some onerous duty, it’s a joyous opportunity to hang out with God, to be in fellowship with Him, to be part of His life and know Him as part of ours.

With all this as backing, we have as well the assurance that when we don’t know how to pray as we ought, we have our Advocate, the Holy Spirit, Who prays for us, in us, whether it be by guiding our own prayers into appropriate directions, or whether it be by utterances too deep for comprehension.  I know we have those who would insist this is the Spirit praying in tongues, giving us utterances that even we don’t understand.  And I might even accept that this may be the case.  But I think it is every bit as probable that He is praying on our behalf even in the silence, even when our tongues are still, and we, not knowing what to pray, even, perhaps, unaware of the need, are simply not attending to it at all.  And so, when we do pray, whether for others or in giving expression to our own hopes and concerns, our prayers are indeed a part of the provision of the Spirit, not only as means by which to retrieve His supply, but as a part and portion of that very supply.  What a glorious arrangement, this!  It is yet another aspect of that observation that what God commands of us He supplies to us.  He desires that we pray, and so, He empowers us to pray, even prays on our behalf when we prove incapable.  He takes our stumbling efforts and brings from them a glorious, perfected outcome.  This ought rightly to fill us with wonder.  And it ought to encourage us all the more to pray, knowing that our prayers can never in fact prove a hindrance, not to Him certainly, neither to us.  At base, I think I could conclude that we cannot pray wrongly.  It’s rather like those ministers Paul was just talking about in the previous passage.  Motive may be off, but the message remains true.  So it is with our prayers, and it is so because the Holy Spirit undertakes to ensure that it is so.  Praise be to our God who so cares for our feeble condition as to render us powerful in His power.

The Power of the Gospel (01/17/25)

What is it Paul knows?  We can debate the point, I suppose, but what is clear is his focus.  His focus is firmly on Christ’s glory.  There is nothing here of concern for reputation or legacy.  As he looks to the trial ahead, it’s not really about vindication, though I am sure he desires to be vindicated, innocent as he is.  When he speaks of hoping not to be put to shame, it’s not a question of being found guilty.  I mean, how could there be a verdict of guilt when those who sent him along to Rome could not even fashion a charge against him?  But what if the judge and jury prove hostile?  What if he should be called upon to renounce his faith and go free, or hold to his faith and stand convicted?  Would he indeed have the fortitude to face such a dilemma and hold fast?  Or let us simply suggest that being brought into the halls of power on this magnitude might tend to make one a bit circumspect in his speech.

We have had glimpses of something along the lines of such a trial as this as we watch the sad spectacle of senate confirmation hearings in the current political climate.  It does give credence to the concerns raised long ago about allowing cameras into the proceedings.  Yes, it may serve to provide some degree of transparency, but what it tends to wind up doing is making the whole thing a transparently self-serving advertisement vehicle for the various inquisitors.  As has been observed, not one of these individuals is in any doubt as to how they shall vote.  Not one of them expects to influence so much a single senator to change their views. The candidate, in short, has very little to prove, for no proof would alter the course of the eventual vote.  It’s all about vanity seeking some few seconds of video that they can promote to the folks back home as showing how serious they are.  I have to say, from my perspective, it has failed utterly.  But that is as it may be.  Let’s come back to Paul and his situation.

What is his intention in this trial?  To defend his innocence?  There really isn’t anything to defend is there?  And frankly, his whole record from the time he was taken into custody demonstrates that in such strength that no verbal defense ought need to be added.  But the defense he makes is not of his reputation, but of the Gospel.  His trial is, after its fashion, but another sermon, albeit delivered in unusual circumstances.  But this is Paul’s concern.  He must preach the gospel before kings and rulers.  It’s not so very different from what he has already done before Felix and before Festus, though the stakes are perhaps a bit higher personally.  But his task, as he perceives it and fully intends to pursue it, is to do as he has always done; present the Gospel fully and unabashedly.  The result, as always, is in God’s hands, for he shall bring the Gospel, and where the Gospel comes, God’s work is done.

Let us be clear.  This is not to say that if we will just declare the Gospel, then all within hearing will, of necessity, come to faith.  It’s not even the assurance that if we will but be sufficiently persistent in evangelizing this particular person, planting the seed of the Gospel with all diligence, and watering it ever so carefully, that faith is sure to grow.  Would that it were so!  The task would be so much easier, and the reward so much greater.  What farmer would not love it were his efforts at farming thus guaranteed in their results?  But ask a farmer and he will surely tell you that be as diligent as you can be, do everything to the utmost for your crops and still, anything could happen.  Still, the whole endeavor could come to naught due to circumstances beyond your control.

So, too, the work of the evangelist or the minister.  The only guarantee you have is this:  As the Spirit inhabits the preaching of the Word, and as He inhabits the word we preach, the will of God shall be achieved in the preaching.  The Gospel is absolutely the power to save, but again, it’s not some magic formula we recite to an invariably successful end.  Just look at Paul’s own record.  It is filled with rejections and outright opposition.  That, after all, is how he has arrived in this place to begin with.  Or, look at Jesus, the author and focus of this Gospel.  He spoke it brilliantly, and lived it as well.  And still, as the record so eloquently declares the result, “He was in the world that was made through Him, and the world did not know Him.  He came to His own, and His own did not receive Him” (Jn 1:10-11).  And yet!  And yet, “as many as received Him, to them He gave the right to be made children of God” (Jn 1:12).

Back to Paul and his trial.  He fully intends to proclaim the Gospel, and to do so in full.  He has done so in his imprisonment, and the letter before us gives some sense of the result.  The guards who were assigned to attend to him heard, and some believed.  And even those who did not believe were sufficiently convicted by the word of his preaching to be fully convinced of his innocence, and as such, there would be a spillover effect of perceiving the innocence of Christians generally.  They were not some rebel force seeking opportunity to upend the empire, but men and women wholly caught up in serving their God.  And in that service, they could see, both in word and in example, that civil order and civil authority were upheld, not challenged.  Slaves were not encouraged to flee or to rebel, but rather, to serve and do so with diligence.  Citizens were not called to rale against the emperor, but to honor authority and pay their taxes.  Such soldiers as were coming to faith were no less soldierly for it, only more earnest and honorable in their duties.

Still, to proclaim to this one who ruled an empire that in fact he was not the supreme power, and could in no way be mistaken for a god?  That’s a big ask.  It’s true, and it needs saying.  Would that those in power today would hear and recognize that their power is not absolute, nor their will the ultimate determinant of good.  That assumes, of course, that they have any conception of or interest in good, which is a questionable assumption, to be sure.  But their power must, in due course, answer to a higher power, and it would be better for them were they aware of that now, as they exercise that power.  In this life or the next, as God so chooses, but there will be an accounting.  And let me just add, far be it from us to think we should ever take the matter of that accounting into our own hands!  One does not wish to find that they have become as Assyria, used for judgment but subject to judgment for their erroneous motives.

Let me try and bring this back on track for a close of this particular topic.  The main thing, as Barnes observes and Paul demonstrates, is to declare the Gospel, upholding its truth and exhibiting its spirit.  That begins to drive me towards the next part of this study, but hold for just a moment.  Word and example together:  This is needful.  Yes, it is possible for God to speak even through those of poor example. That’s been the point in this section, hasn’t it?  Their motives, which must at some level express in their actions, may be way off course, but the message they are delivering remains the true Gospel.  Still, how much more effective that preacher who has clearly imbibed and incorporated the truth he speaks?  As my brother Peter taught me so many years ago, you have to preach to yourself first.  You have to have felt the truth you are given to speak, and believed it.  It needs to be part of you.  Then you can preach with power.  But understand that even then, its not your character, not your earnestness, not your eloquence that makes the difference.  Speak with all the knowledge you care to speak, expound at great length with marvelous words and true.  Still, unless the Holy Spirit inhabits your words, unless He has gone forth into the hearts of those who listen to grant them faith, those efforts will accomplish nothing but to make your throat dry.  You may manage to work up some reaction of appreciation for your skills.  You may even succeed in creating a certain excitement of emotions, such that there is an appearance of response.  But such excitements, as we well know, can often prove nothing more than that, just as full-throated as the crowds shouting Hosanna as Jesus rode into Jerusalem, and just as long-lived.  But where the Spirit moves, where He has exchanged the heart of stone for a heart of flesh, that truth will take root.  And it will do so however humble the arts of the one who preaches.

This is not an excuse for laziness in preparation, nor for inaction.  Much like that matter of prayer and provision, however much the result lies with the Spirit to determine and achieve, the fact remains that preaching is the means by which God has chosen to bring about His desired result.  Why preach if it’s up to God to save?  Because He has said to do so.  Do we really need greater cause?  Why seek to train up believers in a deeper grasp on the truths of Scripture, if the Holy Spirit already reminds them of all they need to know?  Because God has ordained it so, calling upon us not to simply convert the nations, but to disciple them.  He has called us to enter into community with our fellow believers, so as to edify one another, building one another up in holy faith.  If He is God, and we believe Him, what choice can there be but to obey?  If He is our Father, and we love Him, what desire can there be but to make Him known to those He loves?

And in this pursuit, beloved, let our example suit our message.  Let us live what we believe in order that as we speak of our beliefs, we shall in no wise be put to shame.  With that, let us be at the work God has given us to do, that He may indeed be glorified in our humble efforts, and we may have the greater joy in having participated in His work.

The Power of Example (01/18/25)

To be sure, the power of effective preaching and effective witness lies in the truth of the Gospel that we preach, delivered in power by the Holy Spirit through whom we preach the glorious good news of Jesus our Lord by whom and for whom we are saved.  He has redeemed us.  He has made this same offer of full pardon for sins to you.  To as many as received Him, He has given this privilege of sonship, to join Him in this family of God, to be one with the Father.  What a signal privilege is ours!  And all this, wholly undeserved, all this in spite of ourselves.  What was Table Talk commenting on this morning?  God, who does far beyond all we ask or even think according to His power, which is working within us (Eph 3:20).  How does this move you?  How firmly do you feel its effects day to day?  Have you ever known the full wonder of it?  I suppose, in fairness, we can’t know if we’ve known the full wonder of it, but enough wonder to fill?  Oh, yes!  Not always, I confess, but yes.  And it is a cause for great joy, joy akin to what Paul has expressed here.  “I will rejoice!”

I recall from those notes I reviewed in preparation for this round of study, that this is actually in the passive voice, which suggests something more akin to, “I will have cause to rejoice.”  I will be given a reason.  You know, there’s that somewhat standard bit of comedy regarding the stereotypical father facing a bawling child.  “You want to cry?  I’ll give you something to cry about.”  This is rather the obverse, the effect of being son of our most glorious Father.  “You want to rejoice?  I’ll give you something to rejoice about.”  And He did.  And He does.  And He shall continue to do.

That is the gist of Paul’s point here.  “I know this will turn out for my deliverance,” for my salvation, as some translations present it.  It’s a surprising choice of word, given all the theological weight this idea of salvation or deliverance bears.  For one, it must force us to consider that thoughts of salvation are not always immediately concerned with the rebirth of soul.  With Paul, I think we may find it sometimes conflated with sanctification, as we see later in this epistle.  Perhaps that is what he has in mind here, as well.  Talk of deliverance, and in some branches of the church, there will be a certain excitement stirred.  Deliverance is the stuff of miracles, of maladies healed and demons dismissed.  But this is Paul talking.  I don’t suppose he is in need of salvation as an experience of rebirth, him being so gloriously transformed in the events at the start of his ministry.  And it is clear even from the events which brought him to Rome that his passion for Christ and his assurance of ultimate salvation have not waned.  As to demons?  I think not.  Physical healings?  Well, to be sure, he could use those.  But then, we have that comment on his physical maladies in 2Corinthians 12:9.  I know of at least one group that has attempted to make of that passage an argument that with sufficiently persistent prayer, God acted finally.  But that is an entirely motivated reading of what rather plainly says quite the opposite.  “I am well content in weaknesses.” (2Co 12:10), for the strength isn’t in me, but in God.  That hasn’t changed here in this prison cell.

Perhaps, then, I am on the right track, thinking he’s in this same mode of speaking to the process of sanctification in the terms of salvation.  One might well say that sanctification is our ongoing experience of salvation, even the signal evidence which serves to undergird our confident hope.  That last is an idea that Calvin explores somewhat, summed up in this: “Experience begets hope.”  We have, as we progress in this Christian life, a body of evidence upon which to confirm the validity of our faith and beliefs.  We have a lifetime to review, and with eyes finally open through the ministering work of the Spirit, we see those points in life when God has clearly been at work.  And, as I discovered to my wonder chatting with a brother over in Lesotho, even after all these years, there’s the potential of coming to recognize even more such points.  There are things in my life that, in spite of this realization that there’s no such thing as coincidence, I had yet just written off as being simply how life turned out, how things happened to go.  I should know better!

I recall that sermon of R. C. Sproul’s, considering the series of events that led from Adam’s fall to Christ’s victory.  All of these things that ‘just happened to transpire.’  And eventually, much like that weekend of my own rebirth, there are simply too many things that ‘just happened’ for it to have been the random noise of chance.  Chance, after all, has no real power, no motive force.  Chance cannot cause.  At most, it can describe our perception of what has been caused.  So, yes, thanks to my brother over there, whom I hope I shall see again, for observing the non-chance nature of my personal history, that I might see for myself that God’s work in my life has been far more pervasive than I had noticed or given thought.  Truly, He has dealt marvelously, wonderfully well with me.

Truly, then, I, like Paul, have every reason to confidently expect that such as may come in the future shall likewise turn out for my good.  Call it deliverance, call it sanctification.  I think it amounts to much the same thing.  It’s not that I remain in need of salvation unto life.  I am already possessed of that, and have been from that moment, sitting in some now-defunct Chinese restaurant with a bunch of guys from the Cape, that moment when some thought not my own arose in my mind, positing a God Who Is, and a theory that coincidence isn’t.  And then, He set forth to prove His point, and prove it, He did.

Fast forward some years, in the early days of these studies, as I worked my way through Romans, and as I was working my way through Calvin’s Institutes of Christian Religion, and I find out this business of no coincidences has a name: Providence.  It is God’s ordained order of things, in this case applying to my course of life, those – ahem – random events that had led from a party boy atheism to a devoted if imperfect man of God.  It was that same Providence which caused me to be studying the concept of Providence more in depth during the period when I was about to face a layoff, and to face it having just put myself in some debt with the purchase of a home.  And face it we did, and God again proved Himself gloriously in control of events, events which led to my current employment, the which has proved time and again to be a true godsend, even helping with this last trip over to Africa, both in allowing me the time, and in helping provide for the needs of that journey.  What a wonderful God!

What entirely sufficient cause I have to hope, as Paul hopes here, that I shall not be put to shame in anything!  “Perseverance proves character, and proven character produces hope” (Ro 5:4).  There’s a reason for this exercised life of sanctification.  It’s not a time to rest on past achievements, other than as giving cause for confidence as we go forward.  It’s not a time to slack off, and just leave any thought of improvement to God.  Yes, it depends upon Him working, but His commanded attitude as He works is one of cooperative, committed effort.  And His call is also that our character ought to give evidence of our faith.  This, gets me, finally, to the point of this portion of my study.

Where faith abounds, it is a faith firmly established on experience of God’s goodness, and as such, this faith having attained to true knowledge of Him who has called us, as Peter says (2Pe 1:3), we ought to have such hope as we have, a hope that is not the stuff of wish-casting, but of certainty, firmly attaching to God, Who is certain and unwavering.  He doesn’t change.  There is no variation, no shifting shadow in Him (Jas 1:17).  What has been true of Him from before the beginning remains true of Him and shall do so to beyond the end.  He is the I AM.  He is not the I Was, but now am not.  He is not the I am not yet, but shall be.  He is Truth, Truth unchanging.  He is Who He is.  And we who know Him ought to, by our words and our actions, give evidence of His unchanging goodness.

There are a few, shall we say darker implications of this.  Calvin brings forth one.  If this is Who God Is (and it is), and if our faith is in Him, then what does it say of our real beliefs if we give way to fear when called upon to testify?  What does it say of our opinion of this God we claim to serve when we clam up, seek to fit in with the world around us, labor at getting along rather than doing the good work of witnessing to His goodness?  Does it not say that in spite of our occasional protestations of faith, we in fact don’t think so very much of Him?  Perhaps we think that since we don’t tend to see those spectacular miracles that marked Jesus’ earthly ministry, God’s gone quiet, and while we hope to be with Him some day, we are pretty sure we’re on our own this side of the grave.  But nothing could be further from the Truth!  Perhaps we’ve absorbed that mindset of easy believism which would have us satisfied with that moment of salvation, and convinced that we need give no further thought to our actions.  Hey.  I’m saved.  I can do as I please.  Wrong, bucko!  Scripture does not permit of such a conclusion.  “Are we to continue in sin as if that somehow makes grace increase?  May it never be!  How could we who died to sin still live in it?” (Ro 6:1-2).  As to those who insist that Scripture teaches that we can do evil in order that good may come, well!  Their condemnation is just (Ro 3:8).  So, I think we would be well to ask ourselves, what do my actions preach?  What does my silence proclaim?  And if we don’t like the answers, well, let us pray.  And then, let us demonstrate a true heart of repentance by starting down a new course of life, one that more rightly reflects the hope that is in us.

Look.  This is not a competition.  It’s not a call for us to seek to prove to one another how pious we can be.  It’s certainly not aimed at gaining ground for ourselves at the expense of our brothers, as if this redeemed life is some fixed-size pie that is shared with our fellow believers, such that their getting more must mean less for us.  No!  God’s supply is infinite, and their gain is our gain.  After all, as they grow, they are more able to edify, and as they edify, we grow.  It’s a beautiful arrangement, as it should be, having been arranged by our beautiful, wondrous Lord.  So, don’t fall victim to envy, for to envy is sin, and always has been.  It’s interesting, isn’t it, that this issue of envy, of covetousness, is the ultimate command of those handed down to Moses?  The primacy goes to loving God exclusively, and acknowledging no other deity (Ex 20:3), but it culminates in, “You shall not covet” (Ex 20:17).  After all, if you know and love God, you must surely know that He will provide all your needs (Php 4:19).  And if He will provide, and His provision, His gifts, are ever good and perfect (Jas 1:17), what reason do you have to hunger after what somebody else received?  That applies to your earthly possessions.  That applies to your spiritual gifts.  That applies to your progress in sanctification.  That applies to your participation in the work of the Gospel.  Don’t compete.  Contribute.  Don’t coerce.  Cooperate.

I appreciate the summation of this thinking which the Wycliffe Translators’ Commentary provides.  Paul fully expected that Christ would be magnified.  How?  By his outward expression of the inward salvation that was his in Christ.  His character was the work of salvation.  His steadfast expression of that character which God had formed in him was the ultimate testimony of faith.  There is the, “Look what the Lord has done.”  It doesn’t shout out and demand attention.  It doesn’t put up signs pointing to the man.  It lives it.  Character, like that humility which ought to be chief among its traits, doesn’t advertise.  It doesn’t need to.  Character is.  Just as God is Who He Is, so character, being the expression of what has become our essence, is what it is.  By God’s grace, our character, our own essence, has become more like His, a thing of beauty, rather than that ugly body of sin that once defined us.

No more, then, that excuse, of, “I can’t help it.  I am who I am.”  Yes, you are.  But you are not who you were, not if you belong to Christ.  Indeed, I don’t suppose it was ever really true, was it?  Who you are today need not chain your future self.  Who you were last year need not inalterably define who you are now or who you will be.  Character develops.  By God’s grace, character develops in the direction of sanctification, uprightness of word and deed.  And beloved, if you belong to God, given to Christ as His inheritance, then you are possessed of God’s grace.  He is at work in you.  You are growing in grace, in purity, in devotion.  Let it show!

Eternal Perspective (01/19/25)

How does Paul come to have such a calm, even joyful disposition in light of his hardships?  Honestly, look at those places where he recounts his experiences.  He’s been beaten, imprisoned, shipwrecked, chased across country, threatened.  The list goes on.  And on.  Let’s not forget the physical maladies, apparent issues with eyesight, no doubt, the usual pains of growing older, and that, with such industry has he had applied to the business of tent making.  Were he inclined to complain, he certainly had plenty to complain about.  But he doesn’t.  He rejoices.  And beloved, we can be likewise.

It really is a matter of perspective, and of truly knowing that what we encounter in life is a matter of God’s providence.  And in this, knowing that He is a good God, and that He loves us, we have every cause for confidence that His providences, however difficult in the moment, are indeed good and for our good.  This is a mindset that takes us, if you will, a step beyond James’ observation that every good and perfect gift comes from God (Jas 1:17).  Hear that and you may nod along readily enough, but come away accounting all the things you appreciate and like as coming from God, and then assuming everything unpleasant or painful must come from another source, let us say, the devil.  And you might even be right, so far as that goes.  But then, we must come to the next step and ask how it is that the devil has been permitted to do as he does.  And we discover that even this comes by God’s will.  The opening chapters of Job make that sufficiently clear, don’t they?  If not, the record of redemptive history ought to do so.  He could not, for all his evil intentions, act so as to destroy the line that led to Jesus.  He could not alter the schedule one iota.  Nor can he pry away so much as one whom God has chosen to save.  We are in His hands, and that’s an end to it (Jn 10:28-29).

What are we left to conclude?  That even these devilish actions against us, as they come from God, at the very least in the sense of His permitting them, are in fact good and perfect gifts, are in fact means of grace by His involvement, designed for our good and turned to our good.  Indeed, I would insist we take even one more step and accept that God didn’t merely permit these things, but ordained them.  This, it seems to me, must be so, for He knows the end from the beginning (Isa 46:10), and knows every step along the way – perfectly.  There is no room for chance in that.  There is no question as to how things are going to proceed, not in any least detail of the whole operation.

Now, I think, we begin to approach the foundations of Paul’s thinking and character.  His situation was not the chance result of Jewish opposition, and it wasn’t ultimately the work of the devil seeking to terminate his effectiveness for the Gospel.  Not that those things weren’t true.  They just weren’t the ultimate cause, merely the means.  I think maybe Paul had been aware of this even back in Caesarea Philippi when he appealed to Caesar.  It may not have been fully formed in him just yet, but here was the means God was using to put him in position.  He had known it as he weathered the storm that led to shipwreck, and through the events that followed.  He knew it still now, as he watched the Gospel flourishing not merely in spite of his imprisonment, but really, as a direct result of it.  And it would be more fruitful yet!  That was his strength.  That was his joy.  It was a mindset that recognized that his present predicament was in fact God’s intention, not some failure in His planning.  And if this was God’s intention, then there was purpose to it, and that purpose was good purpose.  That doesn’t mean these trying times were no trial.  They were.  Yet, as Barnes points out, “trial and pain Paul reckoned among the means of grace; and he had no doubt that this would prove so.”

Can we get this through our heads?  Can we have this same perspective that Paul, and Joseph, and Jeremiah, and so many others held?  Can we walk into whatever trials come our way, heads held high not in proud defiance, but in glad confidence that we are in fact right where God wants us?  Can we maintain perspective?  Okay, well, the answer is, yes, we can.  Now, the question is will we?  And there, I suppose I must answer that ultimately, yes, we will.  After all, we operate in the promises of God, and amongst those promises is that He will never test us beyond our ability.  That’s not to say, however, that we may respond as if He had.  For all that He is in control, yet we are moral agents with choices to make, and responsibility for them.

It’s rather the same as that earlier topic of prayer and the provision.  Prayer is our duty and hopefully our pleasure.  It is our duty because it is God’s will for us that we should pray, and thus be part of His provision.  Yet, His provision is not dependent upon our dutiful prayer.  Neither is His supply for His servants dependent upon our cheerful giving, though He loves a cheerful giver (2Co 9:7).  His plans do not depend on us.  They incorporate us.  The same could be said of Assyria, yet Assyria, as its intentions were not in fact to serve God but to serve self, and that most cruelly, would still be reserved for judgment in spite of its usefulness.  The same must be said for Judas, for the devil.  Their actions led to good result in that they brought about that critical moment of true atonement in Christ’s death and resurrection, yet they are hardly to be honored for their role in that outcome.  So, yes, our choices have some impact, but primarily as regards our maturation, or perhaps simply our awareness of our maturation.  So often, it seems to me, compliance to this character that God has been forming in me comes quite subconsciously.  And isn’t that how it should be, really?  If this is who we are, it ought not, really, to require bouts of anguished internal debate and sweat-inducing prayer to arrive at a determination as to what we ought to do in any given situation.  It ought to come naturally, being now who we are.

But that’s a bit harder when things get painful.  That’s a bit harder when it seems everything is going against us.  I’m watching my brother on the worship team as he deals with the untimely death of his nephew, and being such a close-knit family, he takes it hard.  It’s a side of him I’ve not encountered before, and as I have probably written on previous occasions, I am honored that I am allowed to see it, to be trusted with it, and perhaps, in some small way, to minister to his need in that place of pain.  And honestly?  I would have to say that it’s added a certain sweetness, earnestness, and power to the worship.  I’m not sure he is yet at the place of accepting that this is in fact God’s intention, that Isaiah should come home to Him so soon.  But that it is, I am quite certain.  There is, in fact, no such thing as an untimely death, for God knows the number of our days, each one of us.  He knows because He has ordained it so.  And, for us who believe, we can trust in this:  He has ordained it so because it is in fact for our best good.

Understand then that Paul was not blasé about the outcome.  He was not unfeeling.  He had concerns, just as we would.  Life and death matters will impinge upon our awareness, the more so when they pertain to our own inflection point.  And in those moments, there is that within us which will, quite naturally, incline to preserve life.  All in all, that is a good thing, and by God’s design.  We are called, after all, to uphold life, and all that contributes to it.  But we are called to do so with a heavenly perspective.  It’s not so much this life that counts as that life which is to come.  Life this side of the grave is but a mote of dust settling on a blip on the timeline that is eternity.  Naturally, since we have spent the whole of our existence to date dwelling in that dust mote, it looms large in our awareness.  It is weighty beyond all proportion, because it is all that we know by experience.  But we have come to know that there is that world outside our little dust mote of mortal existence.  We have glimpsed eternity, just a little bit.  And we have heard more of it, by the word of Him Who created it, Who reigns over it, and in Whom its every movement is charted and determined.

This is the calm we may see in certain of the saints as they near their appointed time.  A lifetime of growing in grace has led to a growing awareness that all of this, as wonderful as it may have been, is temporary, and a better world awaits, a world in which the Lord Himself is the Sun, in which no sin or sorrow finds entrance, in which the pains and temptations of this present order have passed entirely from view, to be replaced by an eternal enjoyment of the fullness of being, rejoicing in perfected fellowship with the Triune God.  There is that assessment Paul gives the Corinthians.  It applied then.  It applied in his now, there in the prison cell.  It applies still for us today.  “For momentary, light affliction is producing for us an eternal weight of glory far beyond all comparison, while we look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen; for the things which are seen are temporal, but the things which are not seen are eternal” (2Co 4:17-18).

That is the perspective that will carry us through; not indifference, but scope.  That is the perspective which will enable us, like Paul, to have greater concern that Christ should be honored by our words and actions, than that our earthly lives should be comfortably prolonged.  Look, I love my experience of this life in its present stage.  Yes, there are things I would arrange differently, circumstances I wish were not quite as they are.  It would be lovely to have still the full vigor of youth, both for myself and for my wife.  It would be wonderful were our spiritual development more fully aligned, our children more wholeheartedly pursuing the Lord.  Heck, it would be grand to retire, travel the world, having no concern for income, free to just pursue my music day by day, and find my skills in that arena growing.  But seriously?  This present order of things is pretty marvelous.  I don’t have to commute.  I generally enjoy my work, even if it does get a bit invasive as to my thought life, and draining as to my energies.  And the opportunities that I’ve had for teaching overseas?  How indescribably wonderful!  Not in every last detail, but the high points are beyond all compare.

Do I live, though, with this mindset that God’s glory, the progress of His kingdom, is all?  No.  Should I?  Yes.  Will I?  God willing.  Am I in danger of becoming too thoroughly enamored of this comfortable present?  Assuredly.  It’s something that nibbles at the edges of my awareness pretty regularly.  I could go back to that song from some 18 years ago.  (Yes, Jeff, it really has been that long.)  “What would you do, if I said to give it all away?”  I still remember writing those lyrics, and being almost in tears as I did, because honestly, I’m not sure at all that I would comply.  But I am sure of this much, today.  If God truly calls me to do so, it will be at a stage of my maturation when I am able, and yes, willing, to answer, “Yes, Lord.  All that I have is Yours.  Let it be done with me according to Your word.”  Does it excite me to think it might come to that?  Not particularly.  I would just as soon that He found ways to use me as I am, in my comfortable place.  But I know that He knows best, and I pray that I shall be found, like Paul, seeking His best in whatever it is He sets before me to do.

Today, I shall serve in worship.  Nothing unusual about that.  It’s been almost a constant for several decades now.  It feels, in many ways, far more unusual to sit in the congregation, free to just sing and worship in the anonymity of my private self.  But on a good day, I can do the same even though I am up on the platform, and amplified.  I pray this might be such a day.  I pray, indeed, that the service of worship today might prove a vehicle of healing for the hearts of God’s people, for so many are in pain, not least those who serve.  I will also be representing the ministry to Africa, as we have our first ministry fair in a long while after service today.  It wasn’t something I had particularly been planning to do today, but the need is there, and I would confess, the passion is there for this ministry.  I pray God gives me the words to speak to those who may be curious or, hopefully, interested in becoming active partners in the work.  I think as well of the upcoming opportunity to present some introduction to this sort of study that I do, a task for which I seem to be finding it hard to find proper time to prepare.  So much to do on any given Saturday, and such limited energy to do it.  But God will provide, and I pray that He will grant that I might minister amongst my own brothers and sisters here as He empowered me to do amongst those brothers and sisters of mine in Africa.

Lord, let it be so!  Indeed, I pray You would be pleased to move upon the hearts of our family here, that they might be of a mind to listen and receive, and that You would be actively in charge of me, that I might deliver what You want delivered.  Help me, as well, even today and tomorrow, to prepare as I ought.  And then, help me to be mindful of my need to pray more often and more deeply, for this, and for all that You have set out for me to do, whether in direct ministry, or in loving my earthly family, or in whatever it is You give me to do.  Thank You, Lord, for this present life, for it is wonderful.  Thank You for that life that is yet to come, for it must surely be incredible, to render this one so insignificant in retrospect.  Grant that I may love You as I ought, serve You as I ought, and bring You some small glory in my pursuits.  Be glorified.  Amen.