Healing and the Messiah

In John 9, we read of the healing of a man born blind. We also read of the opposition of the Jewish leadership to Jesus, and of the fear of some of this Jewish leadership.

After the man who was born blind was healed, his parents were asked by the Jews who it was who had healed him (Jn. 9:19). And they were afraid to name Jesus (9:20–22), because "if anyone should confess Jesus to be Christ, he was to be put out of the synagogue" (v. 22).

Confess Jesus to be Christ? By saying he had healed a man? Given him sight? Yes. Apparently confessing this healing would have been bound up with a confession of the coming of the Messiah. And likewise in Matthew’s account (chapters 8–10), the healing ministry of Jesus signals the coming of the King and the kingdom of God.

Now go and read Isa. 35:4–6. The King has come, and his kingdom has dawned. 

The New Way of Fasting in the New Covenant Era

Have you ever read Mark 2:18–22 and scratched your head wondering what on earth Jesus is talking about? I have. Repeatedly. What do his illustrations illustrate? What's with these garments and wineskins? Why does Jesus give us these illustrations when he speaks of fasting? And what do they mean? How do they apply?

Some scholars, sensing a disconnect, suggest that verses 21–22 didn't originally belong with verses 18–20, or that perhaps they ought to be taken as an independent bit of instruction. But such suggestions undoubtedly miss Jesus' point, miss the connection, misunderstanding biblical theology, the gospel of the kingdom, and the nature and relation of the covenants. And so we need not posit the kinds of things scholars are apt to posit when they cannot see how a passage hangs together.

Furthermore, some scholars, who grant a connection, think the old is Judaism, and the new is Christianity. Though there is undoubtedly some truth to this, inasmuch as Judaism was a way of practicing the old in the first century when Jesus gave this instruction, yet it focuses too narrowly on one slice of what Jesus is addressing. John and his disciples are also part of the old (v. 18), however we understand the old. And John and his disciples, we have no reason to doubt, practiced, more or less, old covenant spirituality, and did so in a way that was no doubt God-glorifying. So they point to some practices that align more nearly with faithful old covenant spirituality. But Jesus, to whom John points, goes beyond old covenant spirituality, and supersedes it. And thus viewing the old as narrowly referring to the Judaism of the first century doesn't quite seem to get at the contrast between the new that Jesus' brings over against the old that's gone before.

So here's how I think it works. The illustrations of verses 21 and 22 seem clear enough. The new cannot be put on the old; the new does not fit into the old. The new rips the old; the new bursts the old. The new in some sense is distinct from the old. That's plain. Isn't it? But what's not as plain is how these illustrations illuminate how we're to practice fasting—and, particularly, fasting in the new covenant era.

So, how shall we understand these illustrations with respect to fasting in the new covenant era? Well, I think I've finally understood Jesus, after years of head scratching, and here's my attempt to answer the question. Think it over, and you judge for yourself whether or not you think I've got it right.

You cannot fast the way the saints fasted in the old covenant era. That fasting did not focus on the Bridegroom the way fasting in the new covenant era does. "The days will come when the bridegroom is taken away from them, and then they will fast in that day" (v. 20, italics mine). Is this simply saying that disciples will resume fasting again? No, no. That misses the new element. Fasting in the era of the new covenant purchased with Jesus' blood is Christ-centered. It's oriented on the gospel of the kingdom, a kingdom that dawned in the coming of the incarnate King, a kingdom that comes in all its fullness in his coming again in glory with the holy angels.

So fasting after Christ's first coming longs for Jesus' return. It yearns for the King to bring the kingdom in all its glorious fulness (Matt. 6:10). It strives for God's will to be done on earth as it is being done in heaven (Matt. 6:10). It wants—more than it wants anything—for God's name in Christ to be hallowed and adored and praised and blessed and esteemed above all else (Matt. 6:9). And it pants after the river of God's pleasures that passes through the new Jerusalem (Rev. 22:1–2; Ps. 36:8–9), that is, for God's Spirit poured out in fullness in a new heavens and new earth.

Fasting in the old covenant era did not look like this. And so the new way of fasting, if it does not go beyond the garments and containers of the old, rips and bursts the old. The old is old: it cannot wear the new, cannot contain the new. The new is new: it needs new garments, needs new wineskins. The glory of gospel garments far exceeds the glory of the old garb. The glory of gospel fine wine far exceeds the glory of the old wine. The old had glory; but the new far greater glory. And so it must go on in a new way, a new and living way, centering on Jesus, focusing on the his coming kingdom, longing for the fullness of his fellowship. Having been given the engagement ring in the gift of the Spirit, the new way of fasting longs for that Wedding of all weddings.

We might even be able to extrapolate and make applications more broadly to spiritual disciplines generally: the spiritual disciplines of the old covenant era cannot wear or carry the spiritual disciplines of the new. Christ's coming changes everything. The old had its place in God's plan. And it still does, as it continues to point forward to the realities of the new, as it continues to provide the categories for embracing the King and his new covenant kingdom. But now, with the cataclysmic coming of the new age into and driving out the old, the new age and her crowned King must be the center of all our devotion.

"Then they will fast in that day" (Mark 2:20). Now is "that day." Now is the day of salvation. Now is on the edge of eternity. So come, Lord Jesus. Come! For you we wait. For you alone we long. For your glory we pray. Sweep us off our feet, and take us over the threshold of the new Jerusalem into the everlasting kingdom of God. Forever, and ever. Allelujah! Maranatha!

Tracing the Kingdom of God Theme Across the Canon

What follows is my all too brief attempt to trace out the kingdom of God theme as it unfolds in Scripture. Since this was produced for a graduate course at Trinity Evangelical Divinity School, there were space constraints imposed that limit the scope and detail of my treatment (at certain points, the footnotes fill out a thought somewhat, and suggest where more unpacking might occur). I hope to produce something far fuller and more detailed as Providence allows. Nevertheless, here is, I believe, the basics of this theme as it unfolds in Scripture.

The Kingdom of God in the Canon

The theme of “the kingdom of God” occupies enormous space in recent scholarly discourse.[1] Numerous scholars have noted how well this theme may integrate biblical theology.[2] Yarbrough labels this theme as “all-important.”[3] Waltke speaks of the “in-breaking of God’s rule” as the center of the Old Testament (OT).[4] I myself would contend that the kingdom of God functions centrally in the unfolding of salvation-history.[5] But finding a center in Scripture is not the focus of this brief paper. Rather, this paper proposes to trace out this “all-important” theme across the canon as it unfolds corpus by corpus. Finally, then, I shall attempt to tease out tersely a few implications and applications.

Although the phraseology “the kingdom of God” does not occur in the OT,[6] the idea pervades the whole.[7] Numerous texts speak of God’s kingdom (e.g., Pss 103:19; 145:11–12; Dan 4:34). Similarly, scores of texts speak of God as king or of God’s throne (e.g., Pss 24:10; 99:1, 4; Isa 6:1, 5; 66:1). The kingdom of God as it comes into clear view in the New Testament (NT) clearly depends on the notion of royal rule in the OT.[8], [9]

The Pentateuch’s Anticipatory Witness

The witness of the first five books of the Bible is one of anticipation. We see no explicit references to the “kingdom of God,” but intimations crop up repeatedly in this block of Scripture. Moreover, the whole framework within which the witness unfolds is one of God’s lordship over the cosmos in creation, in providence, and in promised redemption.[10] This lordship language links up conceptually as well as semantically with the idea and reality of God as king over all and with the kingdom theme that develops in the Bible’s storyline.[11]

Since he created all things (Gen 1:1), God rules supremely as King over his creation, and to him alone belongs all allegiance.[12] Although God gives dominion to his image-bearers (Gen 1:26–28) in Eden, their dominion never escapes the bounds of his sovereign will, but is always subject to it (Gen 2:17).[13] The Garden of Eden thus serves as the basic framework for the kingdom theme.[14] But defying their King, humanity succumbs to Satan’s seduction to be like God and plunges into rebellion and ruin, as Genesis 3 tragically recounts. And so Adam and Eve and their future progeny forfeit dominion in paradise. Yet their rebellion and resultant ruin do not utter the last word. For God promises redemption through the seed of the woman (3:15). Already, then, there is a suggestion of regaining what was lost.[15] After the fallout of the Fall (Genesis 4–11), Abraham and his progeny then become the locus of God’s promise of redemption (Genesis 12ff). Among God’s promises to Abraham and his offspring, kings shall come (Gen 17:6, 16; 35:11).[16] This coming of kings comes in keeping with the promise of nationhood made to Abram (Gen 12:2), which “assumes a political and regal destiny.”[17] Gen 49:8–12 then narrows the anticipation of dominion down to Judah. And so Genesis intimates the rise of a royal dynasty.[18]

The formation of Israel as a theocratic nation ruled by YHWH comes as an exceedingly important development.[19] Exod 19:1–6 depicts Israel at Sinai entering into covenant with YHWH, who makes her “a kingdom of priests and a holy nation,”[20] if she will obey his voice. So this watershed brings into sharper focus the ilk of kingdom developing in redemptive history: priests ruled by the righteous word of their sovereign covenant King.

Two other crucial texts in the Pentateuch’s witness need to be surveyed: Num 24:3–9, 15–19 and Deut 17:14–20.[21] In Numbers 22–24, we read of Balak’s summons of Balaam to curse Israel. Balaam’s third oracle (24:3–9), drawing upon imagery from Eden and the Exodus, foretells of the triumph of Israel over adversaries through her king, and harks back to the royal figure of Gen 49:8–12.[22] Num 24:14 introduces the fourth oracle, and also looks back to Genesis 49, with a reference to what will happen “in the latter days” (בְּאַחֲרִ֥ית הַיָּמִ) “in the latter days.”[23]

In these latter days, “a star shall come out of Jacob, and a scepter shall rise out of Israel; it shall crush the head of Moab . . . [and] exercise dominion” (Num 24:17–19), recalling the seed (Gen 3:15), the kings (17:6, 17), and the blessing (49:8–12). The texts cited thus far from Genesis–Numbers anticipate Deut 17:14–20.[24] When the people enter the promised land and ask for a king, they may have one—so long as God chooses him, and he is an Israelite (17:15). But he must not amass military might, marry many wives, or accumulate excessive wealth (17:16–17). Positively, the king must give himself to the Torah and observe it, “that he may continue long in his kingdom, he and his children, in Israel” (17:18–20).

Unintelligible to Man Magnifying Man

"The kingdom is a conception which must of necessity remain unintelligible and unacceptable to every view of the world and of religion which magnifies man at the expense of God."

—Geerhardus Vos, The Teaching of Jesus Concerning the Kingdom of God and the Church (New York: American Tract Society, 1903), 83–84.

Jesus Teaching about the Kingdom of God

Geerhardus Vos answers why Jesus uses the language "kingdom of God" (when it was not used in the OT) and why we might be prone to misunderstand him:

The main reason for the use of the name by Jesus lies undoubtedly in this, that in the new order of things God is in some such sense the supreme and controlling factor as the ruler in a human kingdom. The conception is a God-centered conception to the very core. In order to appreciate its significance, we must endeavor to do what Jesus did, look at the whole of the world and of life form the point of view of their subserviency to the glory of God. The difficulty for us in achieving this lies not merely in that we are apt to take a lower man-centered view of religion, but equally much in that by our modern idea of the state we are not naturally led to associate such an order of thing with the name of a kingdom.

—Geerhardus Vos, The Teaching of Jesus Concerning the Kingdom of God and the Church (New York: American Tract Society, 1903), 83–84.

Is the Kingdom of God within You?

How shall we render ἐντὸς ὑμῶν in Lk. 17:21? The Holman Christian Standard Bible translates the phrase: “The kingdom of God is among you.” Some translations (though not generally modern ones) have rendered the phrase “within you” (e.g., KJV, NKJV). “The kingdom of God is within you.”

Initially you might not think the question important enough to ask. But the question is important because how one answers this question shapes, to one degree or another, how one understands the nature of the kingdom of God. In the past taking the passage as “the kingdom of God is within you” was sometimes all-determining for how the kingdom of God was understood. It was sometimes thought of as an entirely or dominantly internal reality. 

But is this correct? Is the kingdom of God in Lk. 17:21 an internal reality experienced by those who embrace the Lord Jesus in saving faith? Or is it an external reality in some sense? “The kingdom of God is in your midst” (ESV).

Writing in 1903, Geerhardus Vos says this about rendering Lk. 17:21:

“In your midst” deserves the preference for two reasons: first, because it suits best the purpose of the question of the Pharisees, which was as to the time of the coming of the kingdom, not as to its sphere, and because of the unbelieving Pharisees it could scarcely be said that the kingdom was “within” them. Our Lord means to teach the enquirers that, instead of a future thing to be fixed by apocalyptic speculation, the coming of the kingdom is a present thing, present in the very midst of those who are curious about the day and the hour of its sometime appearance.[1]

I think Vos got it right over a hundred years ago, mainly by doing contextual exegesis. For reasons similar to those adduced by Vos, no doubt, modern translations almost invariably go with a translation such as "in your midst" or "among you." And so, at least in this passage, the kingdom of God is an external reality, not internal. How was this so? Well, the King was among them. The promised Davidic king, the Lord Jesus, King of God's everlasting promised kingdom, had come. And his presence inaugurated the coming of the kingdom of God.

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[1] Geerhardus Vos, The Teaching of Jesus Concerning the Kingdom of God and the Church (New York: American Tract Society, 1903), 52–53.

The Fallout of a Failed Ecclesiology

"What is called 'American civil religion' is the product of a failure of ecclesiology."

—Peter J. Leithart, The Kingdom and the Power: Rediscovering the Centrality of the Church (Phillipsburg: New Jersey, P&R, 1993), xii.

The King and His Kingdom

In his stimulating book, The Bible and the Future, Anthony Hoekema, apparently following Karl Ludwig Schmidt (TDNT 1:589), refers his readers to some parallel expressions in some parallel passages in the Synoptics: Matt 19:27; Mark 10:29; and Luke 18:29. 

He sees the parallel expressions “for my name’s sake” (Matthew) and “for my sake and for the gospel” (Mark) and “for the sake of the kingdom of God” (Luke) as equivalent. Hoekema points out what he sees as a similar phenomenon in Acts, where he similarly takes “the kingdom of God” and the “name of Jesus Christ” (8:12) as equivalent expressions and “the kingdom of God” and “teaching about the Lord Jesus Christ” (28:31) as likewise equivalent.

Now although I do not think these parallel expressions are exactly equivalent, as Hoekema proposes, yet we can say with confidence that they speak to gospel realities that are tightly tied together. And herein lies an important insight then that answers a not uncommon question: Why is it that the epistles speak so infrequently of the “kingdom of God” (or simply “kingdom”)[1] when it looms so large in the Gospels? 

Hoekema points us to what I think is a good partial answer in the dictionary article in volume 1 of TDNT. Schmidt avers there that the reason why the epistles appear to speak so infrequently of the kingdom of God in comparison with the Gospels is that the expression “kingdom of God” (or the like) found in the Gospels is stressed implicitly by reference to the Lord Jesus Christ in the epistles.[2] And so, as it turns out, the epistles refer implicitly quite a lot to the kingdom of God as they speak of King (the Lord) Jesus. 

If this is on track, and I think it is indubitable, what this means is that we ought often (always?) to think of the kingdom when we read of the “Lord Jesus” or the “Lord Christ” or similar phraseology. The kingdom does, then, after all, loom really large in the epistles, which is what we might expect since it is a great going concern right through the whole of Scripture. 

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[1] In the ESV, fifty-three times for “kingdom of God” in the Gospels (fifty-three for the “kingdom of heaven” in Matthew) and 124 times for “kingdom” in the Gospels, over against only eight times in the epistles for “kingdom of God” (all in Paul) and eighteen times in the epistles for “kingdom.” (This data comes from Robert W. Yarbrough, “The Kingdom of God in the New Testament: Matthew and Revelation,” in The Kingdom of God, eds. Christopher W. Morgan and Robert A. Peterson (Wheaton, IL: Crossway), 99–100.)

[2] Schmidt, TDNT 1:589.

The Central Theme of Scripture

"[T]he central theme of Scripture is the kingdom of God defined simply as God's people in God's place under God's rule."

—Graeme Goldsworthy, Christ-Centered Biblical Theology: Hermeneutical Foundations and Principles (Downers Grove: InterVarsity, 2012), 75.

(I record this for the record, so to speak, but I confess that this seems reductionistic to me.)

The Dimensions of the Kingdom of God

The phrase "kingdom of God" or "kingdom of heaven" is a difficult one to define. This is because the Bible never quite provides a definition, certainly not a comprehensive one, and because the phrase is multivalent. So one needs to see how the terminology is used in differing contexts to build up an understanding of this thick theological phraseology. And since it is such an important phrase and reality—indeed one might argue that it is the supreme reality of time and eternity—we ought to labor to understand it, even if the Bible never gives a definition of it, but rather speaks of it somewhat enigmatically and allusively.

I want to submit, however difficult it is to define "the kingdom of God," that the phraseology, considered comprehensively, has already and not-yet aspects that both work out in two different, even if overlapping, dimensions. Those two dimensions have to do with God's saving reign in the church and—no less importantly, yet less frequently acknowledged—with God's reign over the world generally. For the first dimension, see texts like Rom. 14:17, or Col. 1:13. For the second, see, for example, Matt. 28:18.

Now that reign of God—both in the church and in the world generally—is mediated through the risen King Jesus in the present age. In the one dimension, that of the church, there is an already-and-not-yet element to it. The church is transformed, and so God's reign in grace is manifested there wondrously, though without full transformation. Full transformation of God's people awaits Jesus' return and the eschaton. Likewise, in the other dimension, that of God's rule through Christ over the whole world, there is also only partial transformation now. Full transformation of the world generally also awaits the eschaton when the earth will be covered with the knowledge of the glory of the Lord as the waters cover the sea.

Seeing Second Timothy as Written in Paul's Lifeblood

Calvin:

The chief purpose of this letter is to confirm Timothy both in the faith of the Gospel and in his pure and constant preaching of it. But the circumstances of the time add especial weight to these exhortations. Paul had before his eyes the death he was ready to suffer as a testimony to the Gospel. Thus all that we read here about the kingdom of Christ, the hope of life eternal, the Christian warfare, confidence in confessing Christ, and the certainty of doctrine should be seen as written not merely in ink but in Paul's lifeblood; for he asserts nothing for which he is not ready to offer the pledge of his death.

—John Calvin, The Second Epistle of Paul the Apostle to the Corinthians and the Epistles to Timothy, Titus, and Philemon (eds., Torrance, David W., and Torrance, Thomas F; trans. Smail, T. A.; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1996), 287.

"Kingdom" as a Mere Adjective?

"There is nothing in the NT quite like the current infatuation for expressions like 'kingdom ethics,' in which 'kingdom' is reduced to a mere adjective."

—D. A. Carson, "Kingdom, Ethics, and Individual Salvation," Themelios 38.2 (2013): 197-201.

Sons of Abraham from All Eternity

It is well known and often pointed out that Luke 19:10 states the great theme (or at least one of the great themes) of Luke's account of the gospel of the kingdom. "The Son of Man came to seek and to save the lost." That's a dominant element, if not the dominant element, in Luke's message.

Just before this verse there is a peculiar and striking word from Jesus about Zacchaeus' salvation. Zacchaeus repents of his sin (Lk. 19:8) and manifests that repentance with "fruits in keeping with repentance" (Lk. 3:8). Then Jesus says, "Today salvation has come to this house, since he also is a son of Abraham" (19:9).

Now take careful notice of the order. The dependent clause beginning with "since" gives the reason salvation comes to Zacchaeus' house. To say what it is not saying, in order to see what it is saying, Zacchaeus does not become a son of Abraham because salvation comes to his house. No. It's the other way around. Salvation comes to Zacchaeus' house because he is a son of Abraham. His being a son of Abraham is why Jesus came to seek and save him.

So it's clearer now why Jesus says in v. 5 that he "must stay at [Zacchaeus'] house today." He had to stay at his house because it was the next stop in seeking and saving the lost—the lost sheep of the house of Israel.

So we better take this to heart, and let it deeply move and affect us inwardly right the way to the bottom of our beings. Jesus seeks and saves, and salvation comes to us not because of anything we've done—but because we're chosen from all eternity as sons of Abraham.

Incidentally, note well the tension between 19:9 and 3:8, and engage in doing theology to figure out what this must imply. It seems it must mean one of two things. Either this man was a Jew, and so there is an "Israel within Israel" (cf. Rom. 9:6). Or, if Zacchaeus was a Gentile, then there are true Jews who are Jews, not according to the flesh, but according to the Spirit, that is, who are circumcised in heart (Rom. 2:28-29; cf. 9:8; Phil. 3:3).

Christianity vis–à–vis Secularism

"Though Christians often bemoan the separation of church and state and claim angrily that the separation of church and state is not in the Constitution, they are actually expressing their frustration with secularism as the preferred ideology of many elites in politics, media, and education.

Christians should absolutely bring their faith to bear in the public square. They should reject the influence of secularism urging them to keep their faith private and not to argue for a Christian perspective in areas like politics and education. What they must not do is to repeat the mistake of mingling the church's future with that of the state. Temporal kingoms have no eternal destiny. The church does."

—Hunter Baker, The End of Secularism (Wheaton: Crossway, 2009), 148.

Going After God's Heart in Prayer

In 2 Kings 20, Hezekiah falls ill and draws near to death. Isaiah the prophet tells him to set his house in order to prepare for his demise (v. 1). Hezekiah then prays, pleading his faithfulness and how he's done what is good in YHWH's sight (vv. 2-3). YHWH responds and sends a word to Hezekiah through Isaiah: "I have heard your prayer; I have seen your tears. Behold, I will heal you" (vv. 4-5). YHWH says he'll add fifteen years to his life, and promises to deliver him and the city of Jerusalem out of the hand of Sennacherib, king of Assyria (v. 6).

Why does God hear Hezekiah's prayer? Look closely, listen carefully. Does God respond to Hezekiah's prayer in this way by acknowledging Hezekiah's fidelity and good deeds? He says he had heard his prayer and seen his tears, right? Yes, but he doesn't say, "I know you have been faithful; I have seen your good deeds." No, but he does go on to tell us that he has a regard for his name and covenant. Doesn't he?

Is this line of interpretation heading in the right direction? It seems so. Look at v. 6b. There YHWH tells us why he's going to heal Hezekiah and protect the city. He's repeatedly appealed to the same reasons throughout Kings and indeed throughout the whole of Scripture. What are the reasons that YHWH will act? He tells us unambiguously: "for my own sake and for my servant David's sake." Not for Hezekiah's sake does God do what he does, at least not as the deepest motivation for his acting. No, it's for his own sake: for his glory and fame. It's for his servant David's sake: recalling God's sure covenant promises to David, fulfilled in great David's greater son, the Son.

God hears our prayers for the sake of his name, and in line with what he's promised in his word. This ought to instruct our prayers. We ought not to plead our goodness as the basis for God to act on our behalf. But we should go right after God's heart, asking him to stand forth in mercy and might for his glory, for his honor—for his name's sake! If there's anything that resounds throughout Scripture loud and clear, it's that God does all that he does for his reputation and fame. This needs to get into our bloodstream and prayers. And God's name, since it's who he is, and betrays his character, includes his faithfulness to what he's spoken. He will keep his word! Let's depend on it. And let's pray prayers that highlight that unassailable word and God's unswerving covenant purposes and promises.

And not incidentally, this is why we pray in Jesus' name. All God's promises are "Yes!" in Christ (2 Cor. 1:20). Jesus' name holds sway in heaven. Jesus' name is the name above every name. He's the king par excellence. He's kept the covenant, he's lived well, he's never sinned, he's been obedient to death on the cross, and he's risen to that exalted place at the right hand of God, as King of kings and Lord of lords! Forever, and ever! Allelujah! Allelujah!

Paul's Blessed "But Now"

Oh that blessed "but now" of Rom. 3:21! Here's Doug Moo's redemptive-historical understanding of it, surely right on:

The phrase could have a purely logical force—"but now here is the situation apart from the law"—but is more likely to preserve its normal temporal meaning. As in Rom.6:22; 7:6; 1 Cor. 15:20; Eph. 2:13; and Col. 1:22, "but now" marks the shift in Paul's focus from the old era of sin's domination to the new era of salvation. This contrast between two eras in salvation history is one of Paul's most basic theological conceptions, providing the framework for many of his key ideas. Rom. 1:18-3:20 has sketched the spiritual state of those who belong to the old era: justly condemned, helpless in the power of sin, powerless to escape God's wrath. "But now" God has intervened to inaugurate a new era, and all who respond in faith . . . will be transferred into it from the old era. No wonder Lloyd-Jones can exclaim, "there are no more wonderful words in the whole of Scripture than just these two words, 'But now.'"

—The Epistle to the Romans, p. 221. 

Christian Conversation in Pilgrim’s Progress

How important is Christian conversation? And in asking this question, I’m not asking with the emphasis on conversation. That is, I’m not asking how important conversation is that happens to occur between two people who happen to be Christians. No, that's unavoidable (unless you're a Lone Ranger Christian, which is to say, no Christian at all). I mean something far more significant and, unfortunately, far more rare among Christians. So I’m asking the question with the emphasis on the Christian element. How important is Christian conversation?

Indeed one might even put the question into biblical perspective by asking if such is essential? Which puts the first question on the plane of whether or not Christian conversation is of supreme importance? And by supreme I’m taking about the perspective of forever and ever—eternity’s perspective.  Moving in this direction in my questioning, some will perhaps wonder what in the world I’m on about?

Well, consider the place of Christian conversation in Christian’s pilgrimage as the main character journeys onward—with the wind in his face—alongside a good temporary traveling companion, Charity. To understand aright the answer that Buynan gives in his allegory to my question, consider also that, biblically considered, the whole of the Christian’s life plays itself out in terms of an exceedingly hazardous journey. If your travels through this world do not seem at all like an exceedingly hazardous journey, you may not be on the journey toward the celestial city, for hard and narrow is the way that leads to life (Matt. 7:14). And so Buynan assumes (and makes this clear in the narrative) that the one who heads heavenward does so only through many afflictions and difficulties—the wind, as Buynan puts it somewhere, is always in his face. We might say, the struggle is an uphill struggle, the sacred city sitting atop the hill of life.

Still at the house of Discretion, as noted in my last post on the Pilgrim’s Progress, Christian now sits down to meat with Charity (p. 56f):

Now the table was furnished with fat things, and with wine that was

Not My Will, but Yours Be Done

Another Lutheran prayer, this time for God's will to guide and govern ours:

Give us grace to willingly acknowledge and bear all sickness, poverty, shame, suffering, and misfortune as coming from your divine will to crucify ours. Grant that we may gladly suffer injury, and guard us against seeking revenge. Let us not repay evil for evil, nor oppose force with force. But let us have pleasure in your will which permits these to come upon us, and let us give praise and thanks to you. 

When something opposes our will, let us not attribute it to the devil or wicked people, but to your will that regulates all things that they might hinder our will and that your kingdom may be blessed. According to your will, help us not to be disobedient through impatience and despair but to leave this life cheerfully and obediently. 

Help that our eyes, tongue, heart, hands, feet, and bodily organs may not be left to their own inclinations but be held, bound, and controlled by your will. Guard us against our own stubborn, cruel, obstinate, selfish will. Amen. 

 —Martin Luther, Luther's Prayers (ed. Herbert F. Brokering; Augsberg: Minneapolis, 1994), 31.

Your Kingdom Come!

Another Lutheran prayer, this one for the coming of God's kingdom:

Help us to remain so steadfast that your coming kingdom will include and complete your kingdom begun here. Lead us out of this sinful and dangerous life. Help us to be willing to let go of this life and to long for the life that is to come. Enable us not to dread death but to welcome it. Release us from the love and attachments of this life, so that your kingdom may be totally completed in us. Amen. 

 —Martin Luther, Luther's Prayers (ed. Herbert F. Brokering; Augsberg: Minneapolis, 1994), 30-31.

A Divided Kingdom Cannot Stand

The Lord Jesus teaches us this about kingdoms (and countries and congresses and so on): "If a kingdom is divided against itself, that kingdom cannot stand. And if a house is divided against itself, that house will not be able to stand" (Mk. 3:24-25). How does our overweening confidence in ourselves as Americans stand up to the word of Jesus? "Yes we can!" Sound familiar? But, no we can't! Not divided as we are, having forsaken the one true and living God. How does our "exceptionalism" stand up to Jesus' words? Well, either we believe Jesus or we believe ourselves. Who's it going to be? As for me and my house. . . .

America, divided as it is, no longer one nation under the true and living God whose name is Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, cannot stand. She will fall. On the authority of the risen Christ I confidently make this assertion. The only question is, "How long, O Lord?" And about this I have no confidence. That is in the Lord's hands.

I still also cherish a hope in God's mercy that he may grant repentance to our land beyond all we could ask or think, starting with repentance in his faithless church, starting with her disobedient leaders. Do it, O Lord, for the sake of your great name! Have mercy upon us, O God, for we have forsaken you. Leave us not to ourselves, King of the nations, for vain is the help of man. Save us, O Savior, for we cannot save ourselves.