Choice or Preference? (01/24/25-01/25/25)

It seems my subsections in this second visit to the passage largely follow those of my first visit.  So be it.  But I hope I can bring some new perspective to these points, as well as rehashing what was said before.  I had questioned, that first time through, whether there was really a choice to be made, and I think I must conclude that no, at base there was no choice for Paul other than to accept God’s choice in the matter.  And from that perspective, it is really the same story for us, and it is the same story for us in every circumstance of life.  Yet it is quite clear that we do have choices, and we make them.  In matters great and small, we are making choices from the moment we choose to wake up to the moment we choose to go back to bed.  Further, the testimony of Scripture is quite clear on the point that we bear responsibility for our choices.  Even with God not merely aware of how we will choose, but having determined it would be so from before the beginning of time, we remain responsible for having so chosen.

How this bothers us!  Some more than others, but even for those of us who take comfort in knowing just how fully God is in control of events, there is something in it that offends the sensibilities.  Honestly, I think what it offends is our inordinate desire to be the one in control.  We want to feel our agency, and truth be told, we want to feel that we have the final say in the matter.  But we don’t.  God does.  As I have often recalled in these notes of mine, my dear brother from so many years back put it so well.  Yes, you have free will, but God’s will is freer.

So, what’s going on here?  Surely, Paul knew this assurance of God’s absolute sovereign authority than any man this side of Jesus.  So why is he seemingly agonizing over this question of course?  Can his deliberations change anything, really?  Is not the course already set, and the schedule determined?  Well, yes.  But where he does have some say in the matter is in the heart and in the mind.  Were he not in the midst of writing to his friends in Macedonia, I would think he was simply trying to hash things out for himself, to get his thoughts in line.  But then, he’s had plenty of time for such things, hasn’t he?  Years, really.  Still, Paul is a man no different than you or me.  He no doubt had his moments of clouded perspective, wondering what God was doing, leaving him locked up like this.  He has seen somewhat the answer, though, hasn’t he?  Look, guys!  Even in the very household of Caesar, the word of God is being heard and received!  Who would think it?  A pastor imprisoned and awaiting trial having such an impact?  Who would plan such a thing?  Certainly not me.  Yet, here we are, and see what has come of it!

Did Paul choose this course?  After a fashion, yes.  He chose to go to Jerusalem in obedience to his calling even when the prophet had come to warn him of what would come of it.  He chose to appeal to his civil rights as a citizen rather than simply accept the punishment by which they thought to wrest a confession of some unknown wrong from him.  He chose to bypass the opportunity to bribe his way to release, prolonging his stay in Caesarea.  He chose to appeal to Caesar when by all appearances, his release was all but a done deal.   At the same time, he chose these things rather like he had chosen where to stop and plant a church, not by his own wisdom, but by the counsel and direct command of the Holy Spirit.  Consider.  When he had thought to head into Asia Minor, he was not permitted, steered instead to Macedonia.  And look what had come of it!  Look how it had prepared for this very eventuality in which he now found himself!  He had long desired to come through Rome on his way farther west, yet had ‘been prevented thus far’ (Ro 1:13).  You can write that off as interference from the devil, though that doesn’t seem to have a great deal of evidence to back it up.  Seems to me he’s just been busy tending to the churches he already planted, and seeing to the health of the Church in general.  But even if we find the devil as instigator, yet it is God who is in control, God who has set the course of events, and thus, once more, at base it is God’s will alone that has made it so.  That remains the case here in his prison cell.

So, we can come to this as a first point, I think.  As I wrote in those earlier notes, there’s nothing about pursuing God’s will that precludes us having preferences.  We don’t move as automatons with no real involvement in the decisions or actions.  We are not pawns moved by some invisible hand on the chessboard of life.  No.  But we accede to a higher authority which may well overrule our intentions, or at the very least turn them in directions we had neither expected nor intended.  Our intentions may be well-meaning or they may very well be defiantly opposed to God’s clear intention.  Think Balaam, who clearly had no interest in serving God’s purpose, yet his prophecies, for all that he would have it otherwise, declared God’s truth.  Or, think Jonah, sent with a clear mission and an express purpose by God, yet doing everything in his power to avoid it.  His power proved to be little, and God saw to it that he did in fact go where he was to go and say what he was to say.

But I am rather more inclined to contemplate those who seek to set themselves on the course of God’s choosing.  Even here, in the one who is most devoted to seeking and doing God’s will, there remain personal preferences.  It’s part of being human, part of being a moral agent.  There’s the stereotypical joke about husband asking wife where she wants to go for dinner, and the wife insisting she has no particular preference.  Yet, every option offered by the husband is hit with, no, not there.  Mind you, the roles could readily be reversed.  The wife asks her husband what he wants for supper, and mostly, what he wants is for it to be on the table without him having to do much.  All she wants is some hint of direction, but all he offers is, “I don’t care.  Whatever you make is fine.”  We try to pass it off as politeness, or giving way to another’s preference, but really, it’s primarily a matter of not wishing to be bothered with the questions.  Perhaps not the ideal analogy, then.  But we are considering questions of what it is God has in mind for us to do.

At least that’s what we should be considering.  Honestly, I’ve encountered those who seek to be more purposeful in that regard, refusing to act until they have, so they think, a clear sense of God’s desire in this specific instance.  It’s well beyond any sense of being a son of God, his character shaped after that of the Father, and conscience well informed by the counsel of the Holy Spirit.  No.  We want absolute assurances.  We don’t want to get our thoughts in there, only His.  But beloved, that’s not, so far as I can see, how this is supposed to work.  God is not seeking to raise up a bunch of adult children.  He’s seeking to mature us into His image, and if we are in fact maturing into His image, then choosing as He would have us to choose should become more nearly second nature to us.  We ought to respond to events in godly fashion because it’s how we think.  It’s who we are.

And even where that mindset is settled, and let me say, on either of those courses, whether as a mature believer with character conditioned to choose rightly, or as one seeking God’s will more directly to be revealed before acting, there come those times when the course simply isn’t as clear as we would like it to be.  There will be those times where choice and preference really aren’t in the same direction.  Or, it may be that we really don’t yet know our preference.  When the options before us seem nearly equal in value the choice gets harder, not easier.  Or, it may be that the weight of the decision renders the choice more significant in our thinking, and we really don’t know which is the right course to pursue.  Feelings may be misleading.  Even our sense of intelligent, reasoned thinking on the matter may very well prove misleading.  How are we to choose?  Which should we prefer?

So, Paul sees two potentialities in his current situation.  To be sure, death is a very real possibility.  One would think, given all that has led to this point, that this would not be a great concern for him.  I mean, Felix and Festus and all had made it clear that they couldn’t even come up with any meaningful charge against him.  They had only sent him on to Rome because he had made that appeal, and by the law of the land, they must honor it.  They were probably still scratching their heads over this.  I mean, really, Paul.  You could have just walked out of here a free man, but no.  Add to this the degree to which God had orchestrated his journey.  Though he had faced significant trials and dangers, he had come through unscathed every time.  Shipwreck and storm could not prevent him arriving in Rome.  Poisonous snakes, superstitious locals, scared soldiers:  None of these had proven a real obstacle to his course.  So, what fear now?  Well, there’s Nero.  Nero the unpredictable.  He may not have been quite the mad tyrant that he would be, but one suspects instability was already evident.  And it didn’t matter.  His word was no less inviolable for his madness.  So, yes, in spite of everything to date, death could still be the outcome.  Or, as seems the more likely outcome, he might in fact be released and once more able to set about planting churches after this long hiatus.

The question for Paul, grown much older and surely much worn by the abuses his body has taken in the course of things, is whether he’s really got it in him to get back on the road.  No.  Actually, that’s not the question.  It’s not a question of whether he’s got the strength anymore.  It’s a question of which would be better.  Note carefully:  It’s not a question of which would be right; certainly not a question of which would be good.  There’s good in both directions, and that’s part of the challenge.  He’s weighing possibilities, not necessarily options.

Let’s see.  If this trial should turn out poorly, and I face a death sentence – for what, it’s unclear, but as I say, possible nonetheless – what will it mean for me?  Well, as he has already been praying, God willing, it will do nothing to stain his testimony, nothing to give false cause to belittle God.  If he must face death, he is confident that he shall play the man, strengthened to face the event in the power of God.  And really, it’s but a moment.  And beyond that moment lies immediate entry into the presence of the Lord he has so faithfully served now these last several decades.  That way lies home.  That way lies an end to trials, an end to pains and sorrows, an end to the constant concern for the Church.  It is the soul’s rest, not in oblivion or limbo, but in the place of the heart’s greatest desire, basking in the immediate presence of God, seeing Him in fullness, knowing Him in fullness, and no further distractions.  Yes, as he concludes here, that is a course eminently to be desired, immeasurably better than the other option.

Yet, there is this.  As I noted in prior study, the way in which he chooses to phrase this choice makes use of terms that speak to the illegitimate nature of so choosing.  As ultimate a good as the soul’s release unto heaven is, and as desirous as he may be of arriving there, it is, in the end, an unavailable option.  It is lusting after a thing forbidden, at least at this juncture.  It is never a viable option to seek to hasten the end, to rush God’s schedule.  For one, it must run up against the commandment.  “You shall not murder” (Ex 20:13).  Clearly that includes self-murder in its injunction.  The end of your days is not yours to choose.  It is a matter already decreed and determined by God who is Life.  That obviously does not preclude the reality of suicide, nor does suicide alter His determination, though the one who pursues suicide surely thinks to be taking matter into his own hands, controlling events.  No.  The time and the means were long since determined.  But that shall not clear you of the guilt for your choice.  Moral agent, remember?  To the end.

Could Paul, in his circumstance, even have any effect on outcome?  Well, I’m sure there were ways to commit suicide by cop back then, just as there are now.  I’m sure he could manage some form of testimony before Caesar that would make certain Caesar’s decision to find him guilty.  But then, to act in such ways would surely prevent his arrival at his desired port anyway, wouldn’t they?  See, that’s the fundamental problem with such a choice.  To choose it is to sin, and to sin so unrepentedly, belligerently even, would surely be to have tossed salvation in the bin.  Eternity would yet await, but the soul would find itself not in the immediate presence of God, but rather in an immediate and complete banishment from His presence.  Hardly desirable, that.

Still, there’s inherent value in such an outcome should it come to pass.  There is nothing to be feared there, and much to be happily anticipated.  It is, in fact, “very much better.”  No comparison, really.  What could compare?  But that bounty can come only by adhering to the course set by God.  It cannot be rushed.  Neither can it be delayed.  It will come when it comes.  And here’s the thing that I think calms his heart.  It will come.  That part is settled.  The question of destination is not on the table, only the course and arrival time.

A number of commentaries observe the nature of this phrase Paul uses, of having the desire to depart.  It comes, they point out, from the world of shipping, the thoughts of a captain anchored in port, perhaps to weather a storm, perhaps simply awaiting word of some sort, but the ship is loaded, the wind is up, and he’s keen too be underway.  Yet, for whatever cause, he remains anchored.  It’s been a long voyage, and departure carries him homeward, so yes, the heart longs to be at it.  But he cannot.  Paul has certainly been aboard ships often enough to have some sense of this feeling in the ships’ captains.

Clarke gives a particularly vivid picture of this feeling.  The captain, “is not in dock, he is not aground, but rides at anchor in the port, and may any hour weigh and be gone.”  It is no necessity of preparation that keeps him here.  He is provisioned, his crew is aboard.  All is in readiness.  This is Paul’s state.  He may not be in command in the same way, but that sense of readiness, of eagerness to be off for home is there in him.  Clarke assesses it thusly.  Paul is, “cleared out and ready to set sail, but he has not yet received his last orders from his owner, and whatever desire he may feel to be at home he will faithfully wait until his final orders arrive.”  Barnes offers a slightly different sense of the picture, noting how he is held to his mooring, though desirous of letting the winds take him to sea.

There’s just something about that imagery that tugs at my heart.  I don’t know as I find myself in that same state of mind.  I feel it, sometimes for others, sensing that their remaining is rather more burdensome for them than would be their release for home.  But honestly, who am I to make any such assessment?  But it’s not just being tired of life that has Paul considering such a course, longing for departure.  One could certainly understand it were it so.  Life has been hard, his body has suffered greatly, and he’s not getting any younger.  But no.  The course of his thinking is here for us to see.  And that, I expect, is entirely the point.  He is, as ever, discipling by example.  It’s not about being tired of the challenges of life.  It’s not about being worn down by his service to Christ.  For one, if ever there was a man who served in the power of God rather than in the strength of the flesh it’s Paul, isn’t it?  We’ve been reading 2Corinthians 11 this week, with his litany of trials weathered.  And that was at a much earlier stage in his career.  The list hadn’t grown shorter.  Another man would have quit long since.  A man weathering so many trials with nothing but his own innate energies would have come to his end long ago. 

But Paul, even here in his prison cell, loves to serve.  You see it in his prayers for the churches.  You see it in his immediately having got word out to the local populace, in order that they might come to see him and hear of Jesus.  You see it even in his preparations for trial.  It’s not about defense.  It’s not about clearing his name.  It’s about presenting the gospel.  Absolutely, Paul loved to serve.  It wasn’t onerous duty, it was cherished purpose.  Even so, nothing in his love of being useful to his Lord precluded him longing for that time when serving was done and he could enter fully into that rest of being in His presence.  It does not require an either/or choosing.  Certainly, the choice to go home would of necessity bring serving to an end.  But to choose serving would not mean letting go the hope of home.

And so, we find Paul here with what to him is a dilemma of more or less equally valued choices.  The value lies in different propositions, perhaps, and to be sure, he knows that to be with Christ is far and away the most wonderful of potentialities.  As such, it is indeed, ‘very much better.’  Yet, it is better in a most personal, self-involved sense.  Taking the wider view, the kingdom view, it becomes an open question whether what is so much better for him is more valuable than what will prove better for the many.  As I said, Paul disciples by example.  Put another way, he doesn’t just preach his doctrine, he lives it.  We’ll see the result of his wrestling with this decision (to the degree it involves real decision) overflowing into his instruction.  “Do not merely look out for your own personal interests, but also for the interests of others” (Php 2:4).  That’s exactly the thought process going on with him, there in his imprisonment.  To go home is surely the greatest good, personally.  But these brothers, these churches I have planted, the many whom I have not as yet met and taught, their need is surely greater than my comfort.  This is what holds him to his mooring, as Barnes described the situation.  And it’s not some inflated ego on his part.  It’s true concern for the welfare of those many who have or will become his brothers.

This is where that equal value proposition comes in.  And it really does come down to something quite near to, “What would Jesus do?”  But perhaps we do better to stay one step removed from that idea, and ask, “What would Jesus have me to do?”  That is the, I think, the better question.  What Jesus might do, after all, would be done in perfection, and with all the inherent power and goodness of the Godhead.  We, for all that we may have advanced in sanctification, and for all that we may lean on the power of God in our ministry and in our life, are yet very far from perfect, very far from complete, and must yet avail ourselves of that power not as inherent in our own being, but as leant to our aid.  What Jesus would have us to do will, in His inherent goodness, be attuned to our stage of development, and geared for our best good, both in supplying fruit to our account, the which to offer Him upon our eventual arrival home, and in discipling us, who would disciple others.  We, too, have need of growth.  Ever and always.  We too have need of one to guide, to test, to cause us to stretch and so to gain new heights.

Now, I started by observing that in the end, the choice is up to God.  And yet, the choice is ours to make.  It feels contradictory, but it’s the way of things.  We are free to choose, and choose freely, and yet, our choices will inevitably fall along the lines of God’s purpose.  The question to be asked is whether our choices gladly sought the good He is doing, or whether our choices were bent to His intentions.  I come back to this basic premise.  Every choice we make – and we are forever and always making choices – lends its weight to one course or the other.  We are considering matters of discipleship, of sanctification.  One choice sanctifies, the other sullies.  That may not always seem to be the case, yet I think it probably is.  Or perhaps it’s simply a question of degree.  Which course will serve more to sanctify?

I awoke this morning and saw the clock, and I confess, my first response was, “Not again.  Why so early?  What gives?”  And while it is some small concern that I seem to keep waking earlier and earlier, with the inevitable effect that I wind up going back to bed earlier and earlier, yet these morning times here in the Word, communing with my Lord after my fashion, are times well spent, the best part of the day, really.  I’m sure some of this restlessness in me is but the sense of all those things that need doing in the day.  And I know for sure that I will not reach the end of that list, not today, probably not ever.  But I made a choice and got up.  Was that the greater good?  I made a choice some years ago to begin studying this Word, rather than just giving it a casual read now and again.  Was that the greater good?  Oh, I think so!  But I will, in fairly short order, make the choice to stop this and proceed to the next item in the day.  And the question really ought to be asked again.  And I know too well that too often the answer is no, I did not choose well.  I chose habit.

And I suppose I could note that last weekend I made yet another choice, to obtain a guitar.  I note it here because it was in part from recognizing through review of former notes just how long this thought has been with me that I felt, if you will, the permission to pursue.  Yet, it certainly adds another, rather weighty and time-consuming item to my list of things to be doing.  What needs developing for me is a bit of active prayerfulness in the smaller decisions of the day, like, “What’s next?”  I know this struggle too well, and I know how often I simply slide into things that I will then regret having wasted my time doing.  Some of it is simply what do I have energy enough to accomplish?  Some of it is a perhaps misguided thought of pacing myself which rapidly degrades into simply idling too long, and then regretting that the time spent idling is not available now for other uses.  Oh, I have myriad rationalizations for choosing as I do, and yet, even as I choose, I know I could have chosen better.

And here’s the thing, the thing I need to take to heart and keep in mind:  Every choice lends its weight to character.  Every choice builds a habit of thus choosing, and habits, once established, are ever so difficult to change.  Call it addiction.  Call it familiarity.  Call it laziness.  Call it what you will, it’s the way of things.  There’s a reason to strive for good habits, rather than bad.  As I contemplate this new instrument, it’s something more fully on my mind, I suppose, for as ever, I am largely self-training, and training bad habits at the outset will make the whole thing a struggle.  It needs training good habits, proper technique as to getting these fingers on the strings, and so on.  And it requires a new habit of patience.  I need to resist this desire to be proficient in a day.  It won’t happen anyway.

Let me observe another issue of habit, also musically related.  I just got my favorite tenor back from repairs, and had to recognize that it’s been several months now since I’ve used that particular horn.  Now, this horn is older by far than my others, older, for all that, than my father by a year or so.  And it lacks certain design improvements from later years, primarily in that the left-hand key that supplies F# lacks the mechanics that would allow my finger to stay there as I proceed downscale.  Other horns are fine with it, but this one?  Everything Eb to C becomes utterly unplayable.  Go back to last October, and this was not even a matter of conscious thought to me.  My pinky knew when to rise and when to press quite on its own.  But a few short months back on horns where said pinky could go back to staying put, which is, I must say, far more comfortable and far easier on the playing, and suddenly, that finger doesn’t remember its job anymore.  Habits, you see, fade quickly when they can’t be maintained.  And this, too, needs to be kept in view.

Habits shape us, for good or for ill.  Choices matter.  And they are not one-time matters of choosing.  It’s choosing well, and choosing repeatedly.  It’s choosing prayerfully and purposefully.  I have spent too much of life playing this game of taking the path of least resistance.  It is my natural setting.  And within its proper bounds, I don’t suppose it’s a bad thing.  There is something in it of leaving it to God to open the door He would have me go through.  But more often, it’s nothing of the sort.  More often it’s just seeking to be bothered less.  Just go with the flow, let things fall out as they may.  That’s not the way.  It’s worked, often enough, and many thanks to God that it has.  But there’s a place for greater purposefulness, greater concern for the choices made, however small.

There’s that old adage, probably mis-attributed as to its origins, about having two wolves within, one good, one evil.  The one you feed will grow stronger.  The one you starve will grow weaker.  And so, with every choice, there’s that question of which wolf is this feeding?  Put it in more biblical terms.  Does this feed the flesh or the spirit?  Of course, that thinking can take us into false dichotomies of supposing anything connected to the physical plain of existence to be evil, and the pure being of the spirit the only good.  That’s not it.  God made us physical beings, and God is good in all His doings, so this physical existence is good every bit as much as our spiritual existence.  He didn’t put us here just so we could reject the very notion of being here.  No!  He even took on physical being Himself, becoming one of us.  If this body is inherently evil, could perfectly holy God, Who cannot abide the presence of sin, take such a body upon Himself as a permanent feature?  By no means!  And yet, He did.  That has to tell us something.  No.  There is good in life, and good in living.  That good, however, can be better through living for Him.  That is, after all, our calling and our spiritual service of worship.

So, then, Lord, help me to be wiser in my choices.  Help me to be more purposeful, less willing to idle away those moments that could be to better ends.  Keep me mindful of Your intentions, Your desires.  Show me, though I rather dread seeing it, how to live more for others.  And show me as well where the things I think I have been doing for others are not so done, and ought to be set aside.  I trust You to guide me in my choices, but I hope I am not so foolish as to suppose my every choice is per Your best wishes for me.  Give me wisdom, my God.  I surely need it.  And give me strength to meet the demands of the day, that I might go to my rest of an evening satisfied that I have done well with the time You have given me.  In all, let it be that those things I do are, in some way or other, fruitful, in some way useful for the work of the kingdom.

Shaping our Choices (01/26/25)

I have been discussing how choices impact our thinking, our character.  Given that we understand this situation, it seems to me that there is a question to pursue as to how we can shape our choices.  If they have such an impact on who I am, then this should interest me greatly.  How can I choose more in keeping with God’s will and desire for me?  How can I condition my thinking such that I choose what pleases Him?  I suppose the simplest answer is that I must avail myself of those means of grace which God has so kindly and wisely supplied.  These times of study in the morning, so long as I am actually seeking out His truth and not just regurgitating my own ideas, will do much to shape the how, what, and why of my choices.  Prayer will go further still in that regard.

I am inclined to think that this may be one of the great purposes of prayer.  It’s not so much about moving God into action (as if we had power to make God do), as it is about aligning ourselves with Him, reminding ourselves of Him, and giving Him opportunity to counsel us as we come to actively think upon those matters about which we are praying.  This is something I see often in David’s prayers as we find them exposed in the Psalms.  You can watch the progress of his thinking as he moves from opinion and emotional response to events into a godly perspective.  I suspect, when we are ourselves more earnest and desperate in prayer, we find the same taming of the fleshly thoughts transpires.  Vindictiveness must give way to mercy, lust to prudence, anger to love.  And perhaps most importantly, fear must give way to hope; the certain hope that is ours in Christ.

This is what I see happening with Paul through this passage.  Now, it may well be that what he is writing is more a review of prior deliberations than something he is thinking through as he dictates his letter to these friends of his.  In fact, I would fully expect that this is the case.  It’s lost nothing of its freshness, though.  The earnestness of his desire for heaven is abundantly evident, and I can happily argue that the same ought to be the case for us, regardless of our age, regardless of our place in life.  That’s not, of course, any permit to haste the day, certainly not call to take matters of our departure into our own hands.  No.  There can be no hurrying of God’ schedule, only acceptance.  But there ought to be no fear of God’s schedule, either; only joy.  We know how things turn out for us in the end.  As is so blithely said amongst us who believe, we know the end of the story.  And it’s a good ending.  That’s no guarantee of a happy road to get there.  In point of fact, Scripture quite earnestly informs us that it shall be quite the opposite, a road beset by many trials, many tribulations.  Those will surely include the deaths of many who are near to us which, no matter how certain we may be of their inclusion in God’s kingdom are yet a sorrow and a loss for us in the present experience.  It’s a rare death that can be met with purity of joy.  I’ve known a few, but I would emphasize the rarity of it.  And that, I must say, only accounts for my own experience of the event.  I’m sure closer family members felt differently about it.

So, a first shaping of choice that we might see happening with Paul is this:  As he considers the potential for his demise in this upcoming trial, it’s not the at of dying that he has on his mind.  It’s not, for him, a matter of life and death.  That is the gist of his first observation here.  “To live is Christ.  To die is gain.”  We might as well have it this way:  “To live is Christ, to die is Christ.”  It’s the same thought he had written to the church in this city of Rome some years back.  “If we live, we live for the Lord.  If we die, we die for the Lord.  You see then that whether we live or die, we are the Lord’s” (Ro 14:8).  Death, then, is not the issue, nor the means of it.  This, we should understand, is where the thinking was in those who faced deadly persecutions in years to come.  Was it fun to die at the stake, or to be mauled by lions for the entertainment of the masses?  Obviously not.  To be Christian is not to be masochistic.  It is, however, to recognize that there is that which lies beyond the pain of such trial which will so outweigh the momentary experience of agony as to render it utterly insignificant.  Indeed, the promise we have is that in this blessed future state, even the memory of that pain will be done away.  Paul certainly understood this, and took pains to ensure that we do as well.

There is something of a corollary to this which Calvin suggests.  Or, perhaps not a corollary, but an effect of our sense of Christ shaping our choices.  He writes, “It is Christ alone that makes us happy both in death and in life; otherwise, if death is miserable, life is in no degree happier.”  Put it this way, if we are inclined to think death a horror, life will be no less so.  Have you known those who seem obsessed with concerns about dying?  Or, perhaps it shades over to another direction of being wholly caught up in trying to lengthen and preserve life, to postpone their date with death as long as may be done.  It is well and good to prefer life.  We are called to support life in all events.  It’s something of a follow-on understanding from, “Thou shalt not murder.”  Indeed, you could argue it’s a driving, motive force behind the whole second table of the Law.  But to become so obsessed, so fanatically concerned with the health benefits of this, that, and every other thing?  Honestly, it makes one a bit of a bore to be around, as every conversation turns to that topic, and I do not see that it does anything in terms of one’s joy in living.

As Ironside observes, the believer’s “one object is to live to His glory.”  The believer is to be one whose heart is reigned over by the Spirit of the living God.  If this is so, then surely, the character of God should actuate his own character.  Surely, His thinking ought, within the limits of our capacity, to be shaping our thoughts.  That is not, I should make clear, to say that our every thought is necessarily evidence of His thinking.  We’re talking ideals here, not inevitabilities; goals, not achievements.  Ironside does offer this constraint on his view.  It is the case, “where Christ controls.”  But if we are honest, we shall have to admit that oftentimes, Christ does not control, but rather, our unruly will.  That doesn’t make it right, only reality, and one we should recognize and come to grips with.  We can do better, and with prayer shaping our thinking, and with greater reliance on the strength to be found in Christ alone, we will.

So, we’ve looked at one side of Paul’s dilemma, to see how the Spirit is informing his perspective.  What about the other?  What is in view as he looks at the potential of continued life, with continued trials and dangers?  There, too, it is not the immediate experience that he sees, but what may come of it.  And in that perspective, I think we would find he looks beyond the immediate impact on such churches as he might thus be enabled to visit, or of those new converts he might be able to bring into faith in the Gospel of Christ, and the Christ of the Gospel.  I suspect, though I guess I cannot state it as a certainty, that he looks beyond such extension of life as may be his, beyond the lives of those he might personally influence.  Has it not been the same, after all, with his ministry to date?  Yes, his thoughts and his prayers are pretty fully occupied with concerns for those he has come to know in the course of ministry.  It’s there in every letter.  “I pray for you always.  You are constantly coming to mind as I speak with my Savior.”  Or, in a rather more strained expression as we find it in 2 Corinthians, “Apart from all these external dangers, there is the daily pressure upon me of concern for all the churches” (2Co 11:28).  And that concern, we find, extends even to churches he did not personally plant.  At least, this is the general understanding when we consider those churches addressed in Colossians.  They may have been the result of his efforts in Ephesus, but they were not necessarily directly the result of his preaching to those who formed the bodies of said churches.

Did he have such perspective as saw all the way to our own day, and the continued fruitfulness of his epistles?  I think it’s just possible.  I mean, he may not have expected the present order to continue so long as it has, even as many today are quite certain it must come to an end soon.  But I don’t think there’s sufficient cause for any such certainty.  That it will end, yes.  That the time is shorter than it was, obviously.  But that it’s so near as must mean it comes this year or next?  No.  Let it be admitted that news of what we term natural disasters seem to be on the rise.  Add the possibility that the concern for climate change is legitimate, and not merely the natural flow of planetary existence.  I mean, it certainly wouldn’t be the first significant climate change to beset this place, if one accepts the evidence of scientific investigation.  As to the idea that we can manage it or constrain it in any non-catastrophic fashion, well!  Hubris of the utmost degree, I should think.  Hubris on par with that of the builders of Babel, and likely to have similar result.  But I digress.

Let’s stay focused on the kingdom, as Paul does with his own deliberations.  If I die, I win, for I am with Christ.  If I live, I win, for longer life is but opportunity for greater fruitfulness.  There is this sense to that fruitfulness that he speaks of that connects with the idea of having an offering to lay before the Lord when in due course he does come to his homecoming.  That really is the gist of what he’s saying here.  The longer I live, the greater the offering I can lay at my Lord’s feet.  Let me go back to that word from Calvin, at least the conclusion of it.  “If death is miserable, life is in no degree happier.”  But turn it around!  “If death is a blessing, life is in no degree less so.”  If our chief interest in death is that we come to Christ, then our chief interest in life must come to be that we serve Christ. 

If I somewhat tighten up what Matthew Henry writes on this passage, I see much the same:  Christ’s glory our chief end in life, Christ’s grace the principle of life, Christ’s word the rule of life.  That ought to be the motto of our existence, don’t you think?  Aimed at His glory, ruled by His word, living by His grace.  And if this is our motto, it must surely shape our choices.  He must surely shape our choices.  But if that is to be so, then we must accede to His shaping.  We must grant every opportunity for the Spirit to so inform and shape our thinking, so that our thinking may in turn shape our choices in such fashion that our choices will shape in us a character ever more nearly reflecting that of our Lord and Savior.

I see, then, two knock-ons from this consideration.  The first comes down to trust.  If indeed this Jesus is my God, then I must trust Him.  I should trust Him.  I walk, after all, as one indwelt by the Holy Spirit – God Himself!  And He is my Counselor, my Advisor, my Tutor, arranged for my benefit by this same Jesus, come in the same power as my God.  How can I but trust Him?  Does that require of me that I agonize in hour after hour of prayer over every decision of life?  There’s a place, certainly, for earnest prayer, and in the bigger decisions of life, there is assured need to seek His input more diligently, to give every opportunity for Him to direct us and to seek that our spirit might in fact have charge of our flesh.  In ministry of a more direct form, i.e. when we think to preach, to teach, to evangelize, to disciple, or even to worship, yes; we have need of seeking His direction, His intentions and desires, as well as His means, that we may do so to advantage, that our efforts may bear fruit for Christ and indeed be to His glory.  But I am quite comfortable that in many of the choices of any given day, I can still trust that God is directing me, even if I act on my own, even if I simply choose as seems best to me.  Why?  Because prior effort has been shaping my views to His, and He is actively in the process, even if I remain somewhat unmindful of that reality.  Still, the more purposeful I can be in seeking and receiving His guidance, the more satisfying this life, and the greater my anticipation of that life which is to come.

And turning in that direction, our second consideration.  What am I producing in this present life, which shall be worthy to present before my Lord on that day?  Too much of my day, it seems, goes to matters of no consequence.  I mean, I can get caught up in news of the day, developments on the political front, either exciting or depressing as things go one way or the other.  I could take to chasing portents, but what I see in those who do so is not joy at God’s plan, but rather dread.  That doesn’t seem particularly fruitful.  What of this obsession with music?  I’ll accept that it is just that, an obsession.  An idol?  Quite possibly.  But I think it just as possible that God has some purpose in it all, that I have not necessarily perceived as yet.  Yes, I put my talents, such as they are, to work in the service of worship, and I see that in doing so, those talents increase, which is joy to me.  I see, also, that it has some impact on my experience of worship, which is by turns both good and bad.  It requires a good deal of concentration on the notes, which makes it harder to be invested in the words.  On the other hand, there are those moments when I can lose myself in the offering of what I have to offer, and allow my notes to be my words, if you will.  And I trust this is acceptable to my God.  He, after all, is the originator of music.

But others might ask, where are the ones you have brought to faith?  Can you point to even one such?  And, so far as I am aware at least, I should have to say, no.  I know of nobody.  Are there those who have, perhaps, been influenced by something I may have said, something I may have said with the purpose to edify?  Maybe.  I would like to think so, but it is not given me to know with certainty.  I will say that I think these trips to Africa might count as a matter producing fruit for the kingdom of God.  How rich a bounty, I cannot say.  How deep an impact we are having remains unclear.  I mean, it’s been all of a year, and these seeds take time to grow.  But it feels fruitful.

What of my influence on those closer to me, on my wife, my daughter?  Or, even on my coworkers?  I don’t know.  They see the worst of me, I expect, being exposed to more of me.  But hopefully they see as well a man being shaped by God, a character reflective of His own, if not perfectly so, and a humility that doesn’t make too much of myself or my progress.  I suspect I’ve a ways to go on that last front, and maybe, just maybe, that’s the fruit that really matters.  Have I walked humbly with my God, or have I been proudly steaming ahead on my own course?  God knows.  God willing, He shall see to it that I do indeed walk with Him, and not seek to drive Him down my road.  I’ll end with that snippet of prayer I copied down here from my prior notes.

You are my God, and I trust You to guide.  Amen.

Choosing Purpose (01/27/25)

As we consider how to shape our choices, we shall have to consider how best we can be purposeful in our choosing.  For one, this means we need to actually think through our decisions, not just run off after whatever whim or desire flits through our thoughts.  What shall we find when we become more serious about how we ought to be?  “As a result, we are no longer children, tossed by the waves, and carried away on every wind of doctrine, by the trickery of men, by crafty, deceitful scheming” (Eph 4:14).  In that instance, Paul is speaking to the equipping of the church.  As such, we might more generally see that as applying to our need to be in the body, or the need for sound teachers and pastors.  But the core is a seeking the unity of faith, and the maturity of its members.  Put that into play on the personal front, and you are the pastor you have been given.  Yours is the member that needs maturing, and the process begins with purpose, proceeds with purpose, perseveres with purpose.

Sometimes, as it is with Paul here, our choices may not be between right and wrong in any clearly defined sense.  One would hope that a believer of even minimal maturity would recognize the correct course in such decisions.  That’s not to say he will be wise enough to consistently choose the right course, but he will know it.  And there’s a consideration to send shivers up the spine.  For the wages of sin is death (Ro 6:23), as we well know, and yet, knowing this, still we too often choose the course of death.  And thus, the need for purposeful choosing.  We might look at Paul’s dilemma as being just as clearcut a decision, and as I have noted, I think at base, he sees it the same.  Yes, there is something greatly to be desired in bringing this life to an end, and proceeding to our reward.  Except, for us to do so would be in immediate violation of the clear law of Life, a grievous sin, and as such, would surely threaten our reward.  For where is the opportunity of repentance in an act that terminates one’s own life?  Time’s up, and no further opportunity presents.

But it’s not the event itself that’s in view, which is to say, it’s not the decision itself that is in view.  Paul’s thoughts range farther, his concerns are of a wider scope.  If I do this, what comes of it?  You might think of it as setting out the old pros and cons columns, seeking to assess the value of each option.  To die, if somehow it is not self-actuated suicide, is gain, to be sure.  It means an end to earthly sorrows, rest from the intense labors of that form of ministry he pursued.  It’s hard, really, to see any downside here.  He would be, in that case, in the immediate presence of the Lord, the greatest of joys one could anticipate.  But, you see, there is a downside to it.  There are those lives that will not be reached with the Gospel if he cuts his work short.  There are those whose faith will not be strengthened by his discipling.  There are those errors which will creep into the church unopposed if he, one of the few remaining apostles, with the authority to expose, oppose, and reject these errors, is not there to leave record both of the issue and its answer.  The Church as a whole would be put at risk.  And don’t think that’s being rather swell-headed on his part.  It’s reality.

Understand this.  The Apostles knew that what they were writing consisted of something far more significant than personal musings.  The value of my own writings often reduces to this, little more than musing on current events as I seek to explore what these Scriptures are saying to me.  There’s value in that, but hardly authoritative value.  Somebody might, perhaps, read these thoughts of mine at some opportune time when they happen to address their own current condition, or when they can at least recognize certain similarities of circumstance, and find something of value here to help them think things through.  But the epistles that we have are preserved because God knew there would be need of them.  In them we have a pretty comprehensive view of the various attacks of the enemy upon the sound, doctrinal life of the church.  And we have the authoritative corrective response of the Apostles to those challenges.  If they do not directly address the conflicts of worldview that we face today, they certainly give us a framework of parallels by which to assess and address those conflicts.  This we call wisdom.  It’s perceiving God’s Truth, and recognizing the application of it to our present condition.  And isn’t that what these matters of choice are about?  How do I apply what I know of God and His purposes to my purpose?  Or, to take the old Francis Shaeffer title (which I really need to reread), “How Then Shall We Live?”

Paul, in the end, sees the balance between the personal gain of going to be with the Lord, and the wider benefit of continued ministry.  And as he reaches his decision, it becomes quite clear that he is not looking to the reward as concerns either option.  Rather, he is looking to the utility of each option.  What is the utility of death, you might ask?  Well, I could bring forth my favorite example of Hezekiah.  He was informed that his time was up, and found that news most unwelcome.  He prayed, begging for an extension.  Please God, not now!  I’m at the peak of my powers.  Let me keep going.  And God did.  From what Scripture shows us of the remainder of Hezekiah’s days, this was probably the worst thing that could have happened.  Had he died per the original schedule, his greatest mistakes would have been avoided.  Indeed, we might argue the whole course of Israel’s history would have altered significantly.  If those visitors from Babylon had not been given a tour of his treasure rooms, would Babylon have bothered to come crush so small a nation?  Well, yes, they probably would have.  But Scripture lays this out as a very real cause and effect.  The prophetic rebuke makes that clear.  Bad king!  Bad!  Did this erase the good he had done?  Probably not, on the eternal scales of justice, no.  But it certainly damaged his legacy and his people.

Our choices matter.  That’s the thing.  I should not here the way in which Pastor Mathews’ current sermon series has intersected these studies.  I mean, yesterday’s sermon was practically a continuation of my morning thoughts.  And I have to say, I love it when God so orchestrates things.  It’s a wonder.  And it’s part of why I react somewhat negatively to the over-orchestrated church.  God is far better at coordinating events than we are, and you’d think we might recognize that by now.  Ah well.  But choices matter.  What we do with our time here matters.

There is this strong current running through modern life, the YOLO mentality, if you will.  And it’s infectious.  It’s infectious primarily because it amounts to permit to do as you darn well please with total disregard for consequences.  I mean, look at these folks hanging themselves off the edge of cliffs, or seeking to go hug the wildlife, just to get a video they can post.  And how many have met their demise in those pursuits?  It’s really much the same mindset that has led to the epidemic of theft and vandalism.  It’s not so much broken homes, absent fathers, although these certainly contribute.  But a present father of no particular moral standing might as well be absent for all the impact he may have.  No, it’s this mindset of, “I do what I want.”  It’s wholly centered on self, and on instant gratification, and if we’re honest, I expect we shall discern that there’s a pretty strong streak of that same thinking in us.  And we wonder why it is that our relationships suffer.  We wonder why we are so often in conflict, or alone.  Live for yourself, and your self will soon be all you have.  And it won’t be enough.

But another side of this mindset comes to a sort of societal nihilism, a sense that life is ultimately pointless.  You live, you die, you’re done.  That’s the modern perspective.  And if that’s all there is, my friend, then why keep dancing?  Why try?  If the end result is the same whether you win or lose, why bother playing?  This is something it seems that those who pursue game theory have in view.  There’s this balance point in gaming.  If you face impossible odds too soon, you’ll just go after some other game.  But if you’ve been at it for awhile before you reach that point, then you’ve got something of a vested interest in continuing onward, and by golly, if that means you need to go buy some bonus points or what have you, it’s worth it to get to that next stage.  Except, of course, it isn’t worth it.  There’s no more value in gaining the next stage, than to just setting the fool game aside now.  In point of fact, there’s probably greater value in the latter choice, for at least then, the time could be turned to better advantage.

So, to this mindset, let us make this clear:  Life is not useless.  This is not all there is.  Life can have purpose.  Some may seek to find purpose in their employment, seeking to achieve something that will improve the lives of others.  Some seek it in parenting with a similar idea.  And yet, for many of them, if we dug down to the true motive, it would be less about helping others and more about having something to be remembered for after they’re gone.  They want a name for themselves.  They want a legacy.  Is this everybody?  In varying degree, I expect it is.  That doesn’t deny the altruism.  It just recognizes that even the best of earthly motives remains tainted by sin, just as our best efforts for the kingdom of God remain tainted by sin.  But life is not useless, and as we seek to live for God, as we seek to shape our choices to His purposes, we find that we are indeed here for a purpose.  Scripture speaks of those good works God prepared beforehand, that we might do them (Eph 2:10).  Hand in hand with that, God has prepared us beforehand, to that same end.

Understand that He does not do things this way because there’s no other way to get these things done.  He is perfectly capable of seeing to them Himself, nor will our failures, which are many, deflect His purpose by so much as a millimeter.  We are fully accounted for in His planning, warts and all.  But as we seek out those good works and do them, there is value to us, for we thrive on proving useful.  We all, at heart, desire to be Onesimus.  To be sure, we can be quite adept at quelling those desires, claiming a preference for idle pursuits.  But then, we inevitably find the emptiness of those pursuits leaves us dissatisfied and utterly miserable.  And this, too, has contributed to the present mindset of the world around us.  There was good reason in our opposition to the welfare state mentality, as it used to be when I was young.  I don’t know as we understood the reason, but it was there.  This way lies uselessness, and where there is uselessness, hopelessness follows.  And hopelessness gives rise to a sort of quiet rage at the order of life.

Well, come to Christ.  Discover life worthy of being called life.  Discover the purpose of your own life, and learn that it’s not about rewards and self-gratification.  It’s about being the means of God’s own provision for others.  It’s about being put to work to influence and counsel, to edify and build up, to bring light to those sitting in darkness.  Who knows how God may use you?  But know that He will.  Who knows how much good you may do?  He does, and you should want to.  If you would have true purpose in life, true value in the choices you make, there can be no better course than to seek to shape your choices by God’s desire, to seek out how you can come alongside Him in the work He is doing, to become, as I so often describe it, a quality instrument in His masterful hands.

Don’t settle for seeking reward.  Too many do so, and in doing so, they fall very far short.  I’ve known too many who only give into the work of the church on the premise that they will be guaranteed a hundredfold return.  I’ve seen too many preyed upon for just such a mindset.  Send your money to me, and God will surely pour out wealth into your pockets.  And if He does, praise God.  But the odds are against it.  Far more likely, you have thrown your inheritance to the wind, and I doubt this false prophet has even said a word of thanks for your gift.  You are nothing to him, just another mark.

No, look to the utility of your chosen course.  And not utility to yourself.  That’s just self-seeking again.  What potential does this have for the advance of God’s kingdom?  What is the value to Life?  If life is not useless, then our best choices should always seek to promote life, not merely to preserve our own, but to improve life, and even bring real life to others.  It’s the counsel that arises in this very letter, which we might well perceive Paul’s discussion of his own deliberations as setting the stage for.  “Don’t just look to your own interests, but also the interests of others” (Php 2:4).  Or, hear Jesus on that point.  “If you seek to be first, be last, be the servant of all” (Mk 9:35).  What is the best course?  The course that leads to the greatest increase in life.  That is to say that for the man of God, the decision must also come down to what best serves to testify of God’s glory, and to edify the believer?  And that results in a decision that will consistently consider the needs of ministry as far outweighing any personal benefit.  For the one who would follow Christ, “Personal desire gives way to spiritual need.”  I draw that from the Wycliffe Translators’ Commentary.  As we consider our choices, here is a great guide for us to use.  Which way best serves the spiritual need?  Which way is more fruitful?  There is the signpost that will guide us toward choosing the best. 

But it requires that we prove willing to forego our own immediate gratification.  And that requires that we, like Paul, rest in the confidence that however long we remain in this life, the eventual gain of heaven remains.  Our reward will not lessen.  It might just increase.  But even if it does not, have we not already gained that which is very much better?  Indeed, have we not obtained that which is infinitely better than all else?  And considering the enormity of that future reward stored up for us in heaven, where no thief comes and not moth destroys (Lk 12:33), what ought we to be about in the here and now?

So long as life persists on this plane, we have opportunity.  We have opportunity to serve.  We have opportunity to grow.  We have opportunity to bear fruit for our Lord.  Indeed, I feel the argument of the JFB, that if in fact soul continues on in this body, it must be for the end of fruitful labors.  And God defines fruitfulness, not our pleasure centers.  Dopamine hits are fine and all, but they aren’t the point.  Doing something worthwhile, bringing life to the dead in spirit, helping a brother to grow in the true knowledge of Christ, being used of God to set the captives free:  What could hold more value than this?  And what reward would you seek that you do not already have?  The only desire to be had for this fruitfulness is to have that much more to lay at the feet of Jesus, as we say, “Behold!  I have given You what is Yours.  I have used what You leant me to produce gain for You.”  Ah, and there is the reward of, “Well done, good and faithful servant” (Mt 25:21).  Just words, I suppose, but what words!  And from what a God.

Let me draw this to a close, then.  We have two questions to consider.  Am I willing to forego my own gratifications in order to serve God’s people and God’s purposes?  And if not, why not?  And if so, what am I doing?  How am I serving, and how can I serve better?  Okay.  That’s one question.  And let me stress, as I contemplate that, that it’s not about pouring oneself out so thoroughly that there’s nothing left.  It might be, I suppose, for some, but I really don’t think that’s the point.  Consider Paul’s instruction in regard to that collection he was taking up for the church in Jerusalem.  “This is not for the ease of others, and for your affliction.  It is acceptable to give according to what you have, and not what you don’t have” (2Co 8:12-13).  It’s not a call to give your way into poverty.  Neither is it a call to serve your way into incapacity.  It’s about using what you have for the increase of the kingdom, knowing that in strength as in means, “God is able to make all grace abound to you, that always having sufficiency in everything, you may have an abundance for every good deed” (2Co 9:8).  And in that fruitfulness, you are creating for yourself a bountiful offering to set before your God and King.  It’s not the reward.  It’s never the reward.  It’s the joy of being useful, of achieving something of real, lasting value.

In our choices, may we learn to take the long view, to look beyond the immediate concerns of comfort and health and ease, so as to perceive and pursue those things that truly matter.  Death will come, but life continues.  So long as it remains on this side of the grave, let our chief concern be for the work of the kingdom, seeking Him first, and knowing that God will provide our every need as we do so (Mt 6:33).