The Supernatural Amplification of Glory

For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. This is a physical law. Unless God interrupts this natural conservation of energy--observable throughout the visible universe--it continues just the way God designed it to continue. One domino falls into another domino that falls into another domino ... and even when those fallen dominoes lay down flat on the table under gravity's pull, the table still reacts equally and oppositely to hold up the dominoes. (It is about this time that I wish I had paid more attention in Dr. Stachan's 11th grade physics class.)

But some of that energy in any physical action is converted into an unusable form; it is still there, but "trapped" in a place that cannot be retrieved (by us). So there is always a small subtraction. The pendulum swings but not quite as far as the last time. The ball bounces but not quite as high as the last time. The energy is still there--equally and oppositely reacting--but some is lost to friction or whatever else until that pendulum and that ball eventually "subtract" down to zero movement held still in the pull of gravity. (It is about this time that true physicists will want to sit me down and teach me all that I am missing about this in the fascinating world of physics).

Ah yes, but here is the majestic leap from the physical world into the supernatural realm of worship. Worship of the living God actually amplifies when we give it away. For every act of God revealing His glory to humans, there is a greater and amplified response (not merely a reaction!) of glorifying the God of glory in worship. Okay, I admit that the language isn't as precise as Newtonian physics, but the principle is certainly in the Scripture.

I see this supernatural amplification of glory in several places. To Abraham in Genesis 12 and 15 and 22, God reveals His glory to a singular individual--He blesses Abraham, which starts a chain response (not a mere chain reaction!) that amplifies the blessing to every nation. God reveals His glory to one. That one shares the glory revealed by God to him to others. And over time all the nations will glorify the God who first revealed His glory to the individual Abraham. Over time the pendulum and the bouncing ball return to a state of rest. Over time the glory of God will amplify and expand and will result in all the nations of the world giving glory to God in worship.

This principle of amplification shows up exceptionally well in Psalm 96. "Tell of His glory among the nations, His wonderful deeds among all the peoples" (vs. 3). God reveals His glory to some (namely Israel) who are then commissioned to declare that glory revealed to them by God to the nations (which is functionally the Great Commission of the Old Testament, compare Matthew 28:19-20!). The result is not less glory, but more! "Ascribe to the LORD, oh families of the peoples; ascribe to the LORD glory and strength. Ascribe to the LORD the glory of His name; bring an offering and come into His courts. Worship the LORD in holy attire. Tremble before Him all the earth" (Psalm 96:7-9).

The principle of amplification screams from John 17 as well. Jesus in prayer says, "Father, the hour has come; glorify Your Son, that the Son may glorify You" (vs. 1). Glory given away is not glory lost; it is glory that takes root, so to speak, and produces a crop of a hundredfold. And Jesus inside the same prayer says, "The glory which You have given Me I have given to them (the disciples), that they may be one, just as We are one .... Father, I desire that they also, whom You have given Me, be with Me where I am, so that they may see the glory which You have given Me (vv. 22,24). God the Father gives glory to Jesus who gives it back to the Father amplified; increased. But while that inner-Trinitarian worship cycles, Jesus also shares that glory given to Him with the disciples (and their disciples and their disciples, etc.) for the expressed purpose of sharing in the glory of Jesus amplified in number; increased in worship over time.

We are blessed in order that we might bless God back in worship and bless others so that more and more blessing might return to the Lord who blesses. God reveals glory to us in order that we might glorify God back in worship and declare that glory to others so that more and more glorification might return to the Lord of glory. Jesus asks for more glory in order that He might glorify the Father all the more, and share that glory with His followers so that in the end of time every nation will join in the glorification of God with exponential amplification.

May the cycle of amplification of God's glory not be interrupted with me; with us. May the amplification increase and expand in and through us to the glory of the One who alone is worthy.

The Silence of God

We all know the shame and the pain of a broken conscience when we fail to speak up, to defend, to intercede, to counteract, and to testify. But there are times when the loudest, most compelling, most courageous form of testimony is conscientious silence; times when the shape of our faith and the sound of our confession is silent trust in “Him who judges righteously” (1 Peter 2:23). How, when, why, and where we actively step into silence, however, is by-and-large uncharted territory, but “there is a time to be silent and a time to speak” all the same (Ecclesiastes 3:7).

Our silence as human witnesses is one thing, but the silence of the Savior is another. When our Savior was on trial, the conflicting testimony of false witnesses in a kangaroo court filled the room with its noise. But even more remarkable than their cacophony was the striking silence of Jesus before His accusers. The incarnate Word of God silent before His slaughterers—how can it be? “He was oppressed and He was afflicted, yet He did not open His mouth; like a lamb that is led to slaughter, and like a sheep that is silent before its shearers, so He did not open His mouth” (Isaiah 53:7).

Jesus’ silence was not a cowardly or inactive sort of silence with eyes on the floor and shoulders drooped, but the bold and courageous sort of silence with eyes ablaze and teeth gritted—fully engaged, fully intentional, fully powerful. Of all the power that Jesus exhibited in His time on earth the power of restraint that He demonstrated that morning during those illegal and sacrilegious trials was unparalleled.

The enemies seemed to gain the “upper hand” over Jesus. But something graver, more somber was happening. They were not just attempting to win a fight over Jesus who had trumped and stumped them in public for over three years. They were crossing the point of no return, so to speak. They rejected Word so completely that Word ceased—how can it be? Virtually the only testimony they got from then on from Jesus was silence … the silence of God.

Silence can break the back, melt the heart, and shake a man’s timbers … but this was not the perceived silence of God that we often get when we struggle with the trials. This silence, at that dark hour of history, was the actual silence of God. They stepped beyond Word and seemed to enjoy themselves in the moment, still unaware of the awful predicament into which they crossed. This is the silent treatment no one can endure.

"Therefore everyone who confesses Me before men, I will also confess him before My Father who is in heaven. But whoever denies Me before men, I will also deny him before My Father who is in heaven” (Matthew 10:32-33).

You don’t want the silence of the Savior. You want Him to speak up for you. You need Him to speak up for you. He was silent for you in His trial in order that He might speak up for you in your trial before the true Judge. Those who have rejected Jesus in life will find Jesus silent in their defense in the afterlife. Those who have accepted Jesus in life will find Jesus willing and able to speak up in their defense in the afterlife. There is a correlation: how we respond to Word matters. It matters immensely. Reject and even hate Word now and it will cease both in this life and in the one to come. Receive and even love Word now and it will flow all the more in this life and in the one to come.

Sauerkraut and Jesus

Can vitamin C really be that important? (I have a $2 bottle of it in my cupboard.) Yes, in fact, it is that important!

Consider the lack of it a couple of generations ago, for instance, during the Seven Years War (1756-1763). During those seven years in which His Majesty’s Royal Navy conscripted 185,000 sailors into service, 133,000 lost … not in battle, but lost to poor nutrition; largely to scurvy (Wikipedia) which is chronic vitamin C deficiency. Now, if Wikipedia is right(!), that is 72.3% of British sailors in seven years of wartime died because of undernourishment!

By contrast, about the same time, British Navy Captain James Cook (1769-1771) circumnavigated the globe three times (1769-1779) without losing a single man on his ship to scurvy. “How?” you may ask. (Did he, like I, have a $2 bottle of vitamin C in his cupboard? Hardly.) Captain Cook learned, from trial and error, that a diet that included sauerkraut (pickled cabbage) and wort (the liquid extract of barley generated in the first step of brewing beer) warded off scurvy. It would take science 150 years to directly link scurvy to vitamin C deficiency (1932) but Captain Cook found life in sauerkraut: “the only vegetable food that retained a reasonable amount of ascorbic acid in a pickled state” (Wikipedia). Can you imagine the smell aboard the HM Endeavor?!?

Why mention this? It is a straightforward reason: our diet significantly affects our health, and our health significantly affects our journey. Whether we proceed in ignorance or stubbornness, it is fair to say that what we consume, or fail to consume, can quickly become a life or death affair—physically and spiritually. We could have the best strategies, the best maps, the best ships with the best rigging, but if we have a chronically poor or chronically foolish diet then it may be our ship that loses 72.3% of its crew with dozens of burials at sea before the tour is concluded.

But here is the beauty of the gospel. Unlike Captain Cook who stumbled upon the minimum requirements for staving off death aboard a ship, our Captain Jesus gives us, not the bare minimum requirements for life, but the maximum. He gives us Himself as our true sustenance; our spiritual food. He is the Bread of Life filling not our bellies, but our souls. He is the Water of Life gushing out unto eternal life. He Himself gives us not only minimum requirements for life, but an abundance of eternal life that starts now, that truly fills and overflows our small containers. “Oh, taste and see that the Lord is good!”

Despising the Shame

Fixing our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of faith, who for the joy set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, has sat down at the right hand of the throne of God (Hebrews 12:2).

The gospel has once again come alive through the Scriptures, particularly in that middle phrase, "despising the shame." "Despising"—kataphroneo—to conclude against, literally to think little of or dismiss as insignificant after evaluation. "The shame"—aischuges—humiliation, embarrassment.

It is not that Jesus ignored the shame; not at all. He fully bore the shame, evaluated it, and set it aside as powerless over Him.

Why is this important? The cross was invented and perfected as a torturous humiliation. We have cleaned up the cross because of the supreme goodness of the Christ who embraced the awful cross and broke its power. Just a few minutes ago I saw someone selling beautifully decorated crosses for Good Friday—aside from the fact that this gets too close to using religion to make a buck—a cross would never have been thought of as beautiful in the ancient world. The cross was designed to embarrass cruelly and sadistically all who hung upon it—naked, brutal, public, strung out, cursed. But Jesus despised the shame that His enemies attempted to hurl upon Him by using this excruciating humiliation.

Consider the theology of that single aspect of the Lord’s redeeming work on the cross. The lectionary readings for this past Wednesday of Holy Week help demonstrate most helpfully in this part how Jesus took our sin but did not become sinful Himself in the process. He bore our sin but did not Himself become a sinner. It is a very important point; one that I cannot remember ever meditating upon before this week because of Hebrews 12:2.

Isaiah 50:5-7—"I was not disobedient, nor did I turn my back. I gave my back to those who strike Me, and my cheeks to those who pluck out the beard; I did not cover My face from humiliation and spitting. For the Lord GOD helps me, therefore I am not disgraced; therefore I have set My face like flint, and I know that I will not be ashamed."

Psalm 70:2-3—Let those he ashamed and humiliated who seek my life; let those be turned back and dishonored who delight in my hurt. Let those be turned back because of the their shame, who say, 'Aha! Aha!'"

Jesus bore our sin to such a degree that He became sin on our behalf, but He despised the shame (the intended effect) of the cross. He became our sin, but He did not become a sinner. Huge! He was shamed by others, but He Himself was not ashamed of what He was doing (Isaiah 50:7). In fact, He ricocheted back upon His torturers the shame that they attempted to fling upon Him (Psalm 70:2-3).

The cross was ugly; but its ugliness, even though it rained completely and without dilution upon the Son of Man, did not make the Son of Man ugly in His identity. He evaluated the intended effect that they wanted to use to shame Him, but He set it aside as insignificant. He bore our sin but did not become a sinner. He was shamed from the outside; He was not ashamed, though, on the inside. He drew the line on the power of sin and broke it at the cross.

Psychologists observe a similar distinction, but the base idea is primarily a scriptural one—guilt deals with what I did; shame deals with who I am. Guilt is the fault of doing; shame is fault of being. Guilt says, “I did wrong”; shame says, “I am wrong.” Guilt hides from others; shame covers self.

We can see this dynamic in the narrative of the original sin in the original Garden in Genesis 3. Adam and Eve ate the forbidden fruit, they hid among the trees, and they covered themselves with the fig leaves—two aspects of rebellion. They sinned and immediately sensed their guilt before God, so they hid among the very trees they were entrusted to cultivate, which God had created. And they also died spiritual immediately and sensed their shame internally, so they sewed fig leaves together (a far more complicated task!) to cover their nakedness, which before was not a humiliation (naked and unashamed, Genesis 2:25) at all but an intimacy they had with each other, with God, and with the universe.

The power of sin and death is shame and guilt; I am a sinner and I commit sin. Ok, here is the beauty of the Lord’s redemption. He took upon Himself our sin—both the guilt from our activity of sin and the shame from our identity of sin—to the cross. All of it on His individual back at one point in history.

I can almost hear in my imagination the demonic accusation hurled at Jesus as He hung there on the cross—“You are contaminated, you are infected, you are diseased, you are stained. No one can take all of man’s sin without becoming defiled.” But no! Jesus bore our sin, but did not become a sinner. He endured the cross despising the shame. Sin can go this far--to the cross--and no farther. Jesus swallowed our sin, but sin did not swallow Jesus in His core identity. "He made Him who knew no sin to be sin on our behalf, so that we might become the righteousness of God in Him" (2 Corinthians 5:21).

Ok, now the application. Back to Hebrews 12. How can we endure agony? By fixing our eyes upon Jesus’ perfect, purposeful, and pure perseverance--our faithful looking to Christ alone actually empowers us to persevere in our struggle. See how Jesus’ perseverance through the cross "set before Him" unlocks the corresponding phrase in verse 1, “let us also lay aside every encumbrance and the sin that so easily entangles us and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us."

How do we lay these aside? In the same way Jesus "despised the shame." He knew the truth of who He was and the limits of sin and the power of the cross. He said to the shame, "I have evaluated you and set you aside. You rose up to the cross and no farther. I dismiss you as defeated." Therefore, we can and must in Christ say to our sin identity and our sinful actions, our shame and our guilt, even though darkness flings upon us accusation and hellish discouragement, "No!" "I set you aside—guilt and shame—in the power of Christ. You have no hold on me anymore. Shame and guilt used to identify me, but Jesus broke your power at the cross. I evaluate your boundaries in light of Christ's cross and dismiss you as little. I have sinned, and even continue to sin, but the death, burial, and resurrection of Jesus Christ has transformed me from a child of wrath into child of God."

I do not have to hide anymore from God or others. I do not have to cover myself. I can drop off these encumbrances and sins and run with endurance the race set before me. Hallelujah, what a Savior!

The Restrained Pulpit

Preacher-illustrations, granted, appeal to a very narrow sliver of the population. Very narrow. We preachers often forget that our constituents are not immediately fluent in preacher-humor, preacher-anecdotes, and preacher-heroes. That being said, there is a pulpit-driven observation that may actually "land" with the rest of the population for a change; one that has been slow cooking for quite a while. The restrained pulpit, yet not repressed, is a mark of maturity.

Let me back up to explain. Based on cultural observation alone, it seems that ranting should be in the Bill of Rights somewhere. It's not. Freedom of speech is, but the freedom to express every opinion that bubbles to the surface at any given moment of time is not. So it figures that if the forefathers didn't write "ranting" into our code of inalienable rights, maybe God should have. He didn't. Yet just spending an hour or so in media-land it seems that should not only be a "right" to rant, but that it may even be unhealthy NOT to rant when the urge hits.

Get ticked off--tell every one on your friend list. Feel strongly--find a bumper sticker that captures the angst in sarcasm for everyone to read on I-40 who happens to be nearby. Disagree with a public official--don't send a letter to his office, but call in to any one of the the talk radio shows and let it rip behind the shield of quasi-anonymity.

The pulpit, however, is not a license to rant. It is not a soapbox or megaphone for the human preacher. It is Christ's. And for His unexplained reasons preaching remains His arguably old-fashioned, but clearly intentional, method of conveying the mind of God to the people. It may be concluded by the world as foolishness (1 Corinthians 1:18), but human opinions must (and one day will) acquiesce to God's revelation--"for we do not preach ourselves, but Christ Jesus as Lord" (2 Corinthians 4:5).

When I take the pulpit, under Christ, I must restrain my opinions so that the revelation of Christ may be proclaimed undiluted. Are there times when I would like to sling mud? You bet! Are there times when I would like to rally the people around my personal preferences? There have been those temptations, yes. But the simplicity of the gospel is the power. The restrained pulpit--restrained from human-based opinion-making (i.e. the Sunday morning version of ranting)--is wisdom. Paul, perhaps, said it best:

"And when I came to you, brethren, I did not come with superiority of speech or of wisdom, proclaiming to you the testimony of God. For I determined to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ, and Him crucified. I was with you in weakness and in fear and in much trembling, and my message and my preaching were not in persuasive words of wisdom, but in demonstration of the Spirit and of power, so that your faith would not rest on the wisdom of men, but on the power of God (1 Corinthians 2:1-5).

So, please forgive me if I rant! (No really ... please forgive me if this comes across as a rant of any sort!)

Runner

Two minutes. One-hundred and twenty seconds. I decided to show mercy for our dog who is now on a chain all the time because she will not stay in the yard. She was loose for just two minutes and then she sprinted--faster than I've ever seen her sprint--to the wide open spaces. I hollered at the top of my voice. She didn't even look back. Was I a fool to show mercy (again)?

Did I mention it was somewhere close to 18-degrees that morning? So what! Did I mention that there was a 4-foot tall fence that surrounds the backyard? No problem! Did I mention that I had installed a "Stubborn Dog Invisible Fence" with the corresponding "Stubborn Dog Collars" which produce noise, vibrations and shocks at 10, 5 and then 2 feet around the perimeter of the boundary? Not even a hesitation! Did I mention the constant provision of food, water, shelter, company, pillows to sleep on, children to play with, another dog to pal around with, toys to chew, moles to dig up, squirrels to chase, flowers to sit upon, and a 30-something human who dutifully goes around with a shovel and ... well, let's just leave that to the imagination--what more could a 3-year old golden retriever want in life? Honestly. I am seriously asking this question. What more could she want? Apparently more than our family has to offer.

Is there a cure for a runner? Is there some incentive I can add to her life that will erase her need to escape? If dogs can be fools; Misty is a fool. But I cannot communicate to her doggie-heart the insanity of her running. There are cars out there on those roads and you, Misty, don't have a lick of street smarts. There are neighbors out there with rifles and you, Misty, look like a deer at full speed. There are people with the number for Animal Control already programmed into their mobile phones. There are not bowls of beef-flavored kibbles that magically appear every morning next to a bucket of fresh water. Why run? Why leave behind all that this family is freely offering you, Misty, for danger, starvation, and possible euthanasia out there in the "great beyond"?

But then I remember what a wise man once said on a previous episode of canine-escapism. Kevin, God must have given that dog to you for a reason. You must have a lesson to learn from that dog who runs.

Alas, it is true. Misty is a mirror. I am a runner, too. But God did find a way to communicate to my running-heart. He sent Jesus to "put on skin" so to speak, to live in the neighborhood, to speak our very dialect, in order to explain to us the Father (John 1:18). While I hollered at the top of my voice for Misty to come back to no avail, Jesus spoke in such a way that set the captives free, brought the dead to life, and still--in the most intense hours--opened not his mouth as a sheep led to the slaughter. While I have to tie up Misty now, Jesus holds us in without chains--He holds us in by grace. Grace that changes the heart. Jesus, cure my runner-heart with your transforming grace. "Prone to wander, Lord I feel it. Prone to leave the God I love. Here's my heart, oh take and seal it. Seal it for Thine courts above."

Long Winter's Nap

‘Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house / Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse / The stockings were hung by the chimney with care / In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there / The children were nestled all snug in their beds / While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads / And mamma in her ‘kerchief and I in my cap / Had just settled down for a long winter’s nap …

These famous American verses were originally published in 1823 anonymously as “A Visit from St. Nicholas” (later attributed to Clement Clarke Moore—friend of Washington Irving—also attributed by some to Henry Livingston, Jr.). The poem, now culturally known as “The Night Before Christmas,” is arguably the most well-known American verse of all. But my eyes … my brain … my shoulders … my back … my feet … my entire material and immaterial being gets to lines 7 & 8 and then stops! Mamma and I settling down “for a long winter’s nap.”

Oh yes, the December rush is fully upon us all and it is only the second weekend in the month. Egad! All I want for Christmas is that “long winter’s nap”; a nap which “that lively old elf” actually interrupted in the poem … thanks for nothing, you imp! J I distinctly remember hearing these lines as a child and somehow connecting a long winter’s nap with hibernation somewhat like a bear’s—wow, that’s a long sleep, I used to think. Three decades later I don’t think that “hibernation” seems long in the slightest. It sounds just about right for December.

Astride the profound fatigue that finds the children all “nestled all snug in the beds” in the other room while “mamma in her ‘kerchief and I in my cap” still shuffling around long after bedtime there is a genuine aching for the material and immaterial rest we have in Christ. While “visions of sugar-plums dance” in the children’s dreams, my vision scans the horizon for the Christ who said, “It is finished!”

How can it be finished when there is still so much left to do? Ah yes, that is the creaturely way of looking at it—but the rest of Christ remains accessible through faith all the while. It is an active rest; a mobile rest even a sweaty rest in the middle of laboring with Christ. It is a rest that believes all the work left to be done is being done by God who now moves through His spiritually enabled people—the church. It is already all done and somehow not yet all “tied off.” And so December finds us still cemented to time and space and linear chronology, but the rest of Christ is real and it is here and it is exactly what this “decembered” papa in his night-cap needs to remember.