Image by Taylor; through a lens

The gospel has made significant inroads into religious Christian communities all over the world as of late. However, one common complaint heard from the religious is “Where are these perfect people?” In their mind, the answer to this rhetorical question is “no where.” There are no perfect people, or if they are “perfect”, it is only a positional perfection given to us legally—but we are still wretched sinners loaded down with sin.

The mystery of the cross, however, is that we have already been made perfect by his blood. This is not just a positional perfection, but a literal, tangible perfection.

If we have been born again, we are the “new person.” The old person is gone, dead on that cross that Christ bore some 2000 years ago. This new person grows into maturity like any child we might see in our own physical homes. Anyone who has seen a child grow, sees that it takes time for them to understand, figure things out, and develop into an adult.

In terms of our Christian life, our birth is the perfect justification accomplished by Christ. Once born, it is inevitable that we grow, learn, and eventually not crap ourselves. But these acts do not make the child less a child, nor make them unborn. We do not say, “The old man craps himself. This baby is crapping itself. This “baby”, if it really is one, needs to stop—otherwise, I think it is still that old man—it has not been reborn.” Of *COURSE* not. We know that a baby does what it does, but will eventually grow past its adolescent phase. By the nature of what a baby is, it grows. And some times this growth may not seem very impressive. But nevertheless, we grow into who Jesus is by what he has done.

Just as a child does not cause themselves to grow, neither do we. The parents help guide, mold, and shape the child as it grows. How much more our heavenly father loves to be involved in our new life, encouraging us toward maturity.

The reason we don’t see physically “perfect” people is that many have not matured. The presence of sin does not indicate that the immature are devilish heathens headed to the pit of hell. The presence of sin indicates that an individual is still believing a lie about who they are—that they are still that old person before the cross.

Part of preaching the Gospel is not just declaring that all have been made clean and perfect according to what Christ accomplished on the cross. Indeed, this is central! However, Christ did not just leave us as new-born babes left to fend for ourselves. He is our Father raising us into his image as his children who will inevitably look and act like their Father.

You are perfect. You are holy. We are his children. And our Father has so much more for you and I than just freedom from sin. He has made us his full-fledged children and is raising us into perfect image bearers of his likeness. We are being transformed into his likeness from glory to glory.

“When the time came to completion, God sent His Son, born of a woman, born under the law, to redeem those under the law, so that we might receive adoption as sons. And because you are sons, God has sent the Spirit of His Son into our hearts, crying, “Abba, Father!” So you are no longer a slave but a son, and if a son, then an heir through God.”

— Galatians 4:6

We all, with unveiled faces, are looking as in a mirror at the glory of the Lord and are being transformed into the same image from glory to glory; this is from the Lord who is the Spirit.

— 2 Corinthians 3:18

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Image by Jenifer Su

Jesus Christ transforms. His cross transforms. The will and act of God alone to take human form and to rescue humanity from their plight transforms.

Unwittingly, so many in the Church have undercut the cross and what Jesus accomplished on it. He rescued us. If in fact we can agree upon this basic Christian, gospel tenant, can we really say that we rescue ourselves? *OF COURSE* we can’t. And few Christians would claim outright that they do indeed “save” themselves.

In many a Sunday sermon, however, we often hear the call the pick-up and carry our cross. Jesus died for you, but now you need to die to yourself to make yourself worthy of his “gift.”

The irony in this call to self-mutilation and religious suicide is that the work of the cross is no longer a gift. If we must “pay” for it, it can no longer be called a gift. In fact, if it is really a gift, there is nothing you can do to pay for it. If the his blood truly paid for ALL our faults, mistakes, and sins, than we are now perfect in Christ.

Yes, PERFECT. That may sound extreme to some. Indeed, scandalous, no? The gospel is called the gospel— “good news” — for very good reason. We have been made perfect by Christ’s work on the cross. There is NOTHING that we can add to HIS work.

Indeed, if any further work, obedience to any law, or required task is added to this work of Jesus, his gracious gift, than it is not a gift.

While grossly inadequate an analogy, the grace of Jesus is like the wealthiest king of a kingdom taking a pauper from the street and making him a prince. This king poured riches, land, and power out on this boy. The appropriate reaction of the now son would be to praise his lord and serve him. But those actions are a product of his gracious gift, not a surcharge, entry fee, or required task—and certainly not equivalent to paying back the lord. Indeed, there is no paying him back. The boy has no riches of his own. He may use his new wealth (the wealth of the king) to give him gifts, but who are we fooling? All that the former pauper has belongs to the king. And this street kid may go off into the street and do as he once did, but why? To play in the filth in which he once squalored?

Our relationship with Christ is like this.

I am not saying that an appropriate response to Christ isn’t love, praise, and speaking well of our savior. Indeed, we would obviously tell others how awesome and mind-blowing he is. In truth, he has elevated us from the street and made us his heirs. He has made us his sons and daughters. We are not enemies. We are not unclean. We are not sinners. We are already his perfect children, a task that he accomplished on his own without our permission or help some 2000 years ago.

Grace + Nothing. It is His victory. And it was a victory won on cross, not our white-knuckled self-efforts to pull ourselves up by our bootstraps.

“When the time came to completion, God sent His Son, born of a woman, born under the law, to redeem those under the law, so that we might receive adoption as sons. And because you are sons, God has sent the Spirit of His Son into our hearts, crying, “Abba, Father!” So you are no longer a slave but a son, and if a son, then an heir through God.”

— Galatians 4:6

“For by a single offering He has forever completely cleansed and perfected those who are consecrated and made holy.”

— Hebrews 10:14

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Image by Blake Burton

Too often faith is backward. Understandably, with everything else in life, what we do determines who of what we are. As the adage goes, “You are what you eat.” Indeed, if you want to be a fit person, you must eat right and exercise.

The kingdom of heaven is not like this. Despite what some ministers, pastors, and churchies in general tell you, you are not defined by what you do, but by who you are.

Indeed, you are holy, clean, and made perfect by Christ. But can one reject what Christ has done? Can they live in the lie of what we once were? Of course.  But your insistence of not being included in Christ’s work will not prevent him from including you. Still, we can believe the lies of what we once were. Such is the case of Peter in Galatians 2:1-21.

Paul, in writing to the Galatians, reminds them of who they are and what Christ accomplished on the cross. The law was fulfilled by Christ. Strict obedience to the law neither makes us holy nor any closer to Christ.

Concerning the former, the leaders of the Jerusalem church considered themselves exceedingly important and holy. The perception of being extra-holy is merely that, a perception. None are more important. These leaders only “seemed to be pillars” and “seemed to be influential” (2:9 and 2:6 respectively). Christ has made all equal in him—equally, we all rest in Christ’s perfection.

To this point, Paul chides Peter in an episode of arrogance and self-importance. When visiting Antioch, Peter imbibed with the Gentiles, embracing the unity and freedom of Christ’s grace and communion brought to us through his resurrection. But when the religious leaders arrived from Jerusalem, Peter pulled back and isolated himself with this elite group.

The Jerusalem church, and religion in general, makes hierarchies of those “more holy” than others. These hierarchies are based on how much effort one exerts to build up their own proximity to the divine. These churchies were doing it all “right.” They abstained from all evil food and drink. They didn’t associate with the “wrong kind of people.” Or so they believed, as do so may in our own time.

Religion is easy to get sucked into. Peter was no different. He, like us, fell effortless back into the religious routine.

Without recognizing it, he put his trust in the law for his salvation. And putting your trust in the law is really putting your trust in yourself for your own holiness. This is necessarily another gospel—or in reality, an anti-gospel.

Paul tells this story to the Galatians in order to remind them of the true gospel, that justification is by faith alone, not by efforts, works, or any external action or adherence. Being made holy, perfect, and in union with the Father of heaven is not through works of the law but through the faith of Jesus Christ (2:16).

Adding anything to the cross nullifies his blood. Adding anything to grace causes grace to cease to be grace. Put simply, GRACE + LAW = LAW

Paul has the harshest words possible for such efforts

“For is justification, righteousness, and acquittal from guilt comes through observing the ritual of the Law, then Christ, the Messiah, died groundlessly, to no purpose, and in vain—His death was then wholly superfluous.” (Galatians 2:21)

Grace must be had straight—no additives.

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Image by Walker4412

I have a confession to make. I got a treadmill for Christmas—last Christmas; I have not used it once. I, like some of you and certainly like most Americans, have made a resolution to lose weight this year. I have resolved to eat better and become more healthy.

Why do we make resolutions like this? Why do we make resolutions at all. If you think about it, the act of making a resolution is sort of a confession that you have failed this last year. I have failed to eat healthy this last year and so I will do so this next year. I have failed to exercise so I’ll do better this year.

Making resolutions is the act of planning to become a better version of yourself. Through your hard work, you can lose weight. Through your hard work, you can get that promotion or find that job. Through your hard work, you can finally kick that bad habit.

Becoming a better version of yourself is a great goal. But this is also a dangerous pattern of thinking for the believer in the gospel.

At the core of resolutions is this single idea, “I can make myself better.” I can become a better version of me.

Christians have a tendency of perpetually putting themselves at the foot of the cross. They see Christ crucified and the sins that he covers, but many leave him on that tree and keep themselves there too.

Jesus came off that cross—he died, was buried, and raised again. Where are my sins? They are gone. All my sins have been removed. When I look back on this last year, do I look at myself as a failure? Do I see how I failed to read the Bible as much as I hoped, or how I need to pray more.

Often we couch these ideas in our identity, in who we are.

The scandal of the gospel is, however, that you are not defined by what you do but by who you are.

Who you are defines you, not your failures or success this last year.

And who are you? You are a cherished and loved son and daughter. No matter how you feel you have failed, Christ doesn’t see you as a failure. No matter how unworthy you think of yourself, Christ isn’t keeping track of your wrongs. 

If Christ really did remove your sin and has forgotten it, perhaps we should stop reminding him about it. We live after the cross, not before. We live after the resurrection, not before.

So it’s time to endeavor to stop endeavoring. It’s time to stop trying to build a holiness that he has already given us.

So for 2013,

I am not pressing in anymore, I’ve been pressed into

I am not contending anymore, I’ve been contended for

I’m not seeking God anymore, he found me

I’m not drawing close to God, we are already in union

I’m not overcoming the flesh, the flesh was circumcised away

I’m not killing the old man, the old man was co-crucified with Christ

I’m not asking him to purify my heart, he gave me a new one

It is time to rest in the FINISHED work of Jesus Christ.

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CG Video – Resting in Who We Are Pt. II from Community Bible Church on Vimeo.

Image by Matthew Adam Blair

The dream of Christian unity was just that, a dream. From the earliest sources, one thing is quite clear: the Church was not united. THE CHURCH, as in the mystical body of Christ, was and is “one” both with itself and with the Trinity—that seems to be without question. But the unity of the physical church was fractured, even in its earliest stages.

This fracture spiraled from one central issue: was Christianity another religion or was it something else? Did it embolden men and women alike to try harder and work better, aided by Christ, to live more holy lives or was it the end of trying?

In the end, Paul makes it quite clear‚ the gospel of Christ is not the gospel of men.

The “good news” that so many believe, even today, is not really that good. Christ “saved” us and died on the cross, but now its your turn. He killed your sin, now you need to kill it. This odd “paradox” is the old law wrapped in Christian jargon and gospel-like trappings.

In Galatians 1, Paul immediately lays it out. Christ “gave himself for our sins to deliver us from the present evil age, according to the will of our God and Father.” [Gal.1:4]

He is the one who delivered us, not we ourselves who freed, frees, or will free our own selves from our sin. The cross was all encompassing—both throughout all time and in covering all sin.

Paul wrote to the Galatians because they had made this critical mistake—this same spirit of religion, of self effort, possesses many denominations, communities, and churches of every stripe and sort.

After all, a quasi-gospel is no gospel at all. A “tempered” grace is no grace at all—just the law masquerading as such.

The gospel is the gospel, and those who want to add law to their lives under the misunderstanding that it will make them more holy have not understood the gospel at all. This is a “different gospel” as Paul warns. [Gal. 1:6]

The one and only gospel is a gospel of grace and of nothing else. Man’s gospel is of self-effort, payment of good deeds or bad, and, put simply, a religion like all the rest. Through our own efforts come rewards.

This revelation of the gospel does not belong to any person, nor is understanding conjured up by intellect or study. The gospel is not even Paul’s, as he so clearly states in Gal. 1:12. It is the revelation of Jesus Christ, a gospel, Paul claims, that was taught to him by God himself (whether this implies the Holy Spirit, the Father, or Christ himself remains unclear).

This seems to be the heart of God, that His true Gospel might be revealed to many. As He did for Paul, so too might we hope for a similar revelation for ourselves or those around us.

Even for Paul, who confessed that he once believed that his righteous actions would have gotten him into the good graces of God, only became convinced that it was through Christ and Christ alone that salvation might be had.

The Gospel of Christ—the one which Paul preached—was Grace plus nothing. No human action, reaction, or effort could make us any more holy than what Christ had made us. This is the difference between the Gospel of Christ and the Gospel of Mankind.

And this seems to be the starting point for Paul in Galatians.
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Check back for more as we continue to work our way though Galatians and the entire new Testament. To check out more on the project or our schedule, click here.

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Artwork from Les Miserables 2012

Miserable is certainly not the term to be applied to the film Les Miserables. Translated as the miserable, the wretched, the poor ones, or the victims—Les Miserables has been a force of narrative brilliance since its writing in 1862. This film adaptation to the broadway musical is masterful, to say the least. Sobs of sadness and joy could be heart throughout the movie theater, as was the case all over theaters worldwide no doubt.

One may wonder why this film touches so many to the core. A common note is plucked in the hearts of people. And this note gloriously resounds and most majestically resonates in Les Miserables.

Grace triumphs over law.

While there are dozens of themes, the tension of grace and law is palpable. The convict Jean Valjean, released on parole from years of hard labor for the theft of bread, finds himself in the stoop of a minister’s home after being severely mistreated. Seizing the opportunity for an easy bit of coin, Valjean steals this minster’s silver—only to be brought back in shackles by the police. The minister, in an act of love and grace, gives Valjean the costly candlesticks, telling the police that the silver was a gift, a ransoming of this convict from sin and into grace.

This grace marked and changed Valjean for life. In response to this grace, this once criminal now touched all with mercy, even the unrelenting Inspector Javert.

To Javert, law and obedience was both the means to God’s love and the only mode in which the world should operate. No mercy, no grace, exists in the light of the law. Regardless of how miserable the plight of the poor or even the tiniest infraction made, justice must be satisfied—both God’s and Javert’s.

When Valjean inevitable spared Jevert’s life, showing mercy and grace where none should be given or should exist in his mind, Jervert kills himself. He could not live in a world where such grace and mercy exists.

So too might it be said of the law. Obedience to a external code through which value or lack of worth is meted out withers in the light of the total and truly awesome grace and mercy of the cross of Jesus Christ.

Such love and sacrifice is beautiful in all eyes—except lovers of the law. Like Jevert, they look at those forgiven and see injustice, that it is unfair, and that people aren’t getting what “they deserve.” And certainly that person would be right. Grace and mercy are not fair—Christ, Ghandi, Martin Luther King Jr., nor the character Valjean were men of justice. And this grace, mercy, and love is precisely what touches the hearts of those who watch Les Miserables.

Les Miserables is a beautiful reminder of the transforming power of grace and a love.

Grace triumphs over law.

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Image by Lucy Loomis

There are few books that have the depth of impact on the human soul as does the Bible. Regardless of reading it over and over again, a freshness emerges in the text each time it’s read.

This year I have decided that I am going to blog through the New Testament. I do so mostly for me, as such an endeavor is not new. I will be trying to condense books, chapters and passages into a single thought, challenge, or concentration. Some I expect to be fairly easy to deal with, while others not so much.

But what is different for me this time around is my adamant view toward God’s saving grace—something for which I thought I believed in previous years but only until recently discovered that I did not. In fact, if anything, I was an ardent defender of religion and rejected the gospel at its most principle level. In light of this once held error, I will be reading the entirety of the the New Testament with grace and the gospel in mind.

Now a few words on the nature and order of things.

This is a serious commitment that I am undertaking, and one I do not take lightly. These writings will be my musings and should not, as I already hope is the case, be taken blindly. I will be reading the ESV this year, but will be consulting the HCSB and the Amplified, along with other translations and studies in the Greek where needed. I have no intent, on this note, to make this an ivory tower, academic thing but an attempt to bring theology to the “streets” as it were. I do not want to lose the personal meaning of the texts for the sake of Greek word studies and endless theological debate. These things have there place and can certainly be fun while educational, but the heart of the text is not in this minutia. Information for information’s sake is fruitless.

To that end, I will be reading through the New Testament in a chronological order rather than in an order we commonly see in our Bibles. There are many debates, but I have adopted the view of Pauline theology first. Paul wrote the earliest texts and from his writings, Christianity was formed. The gospels were written to support Paul’s gospel (Mark and Luke seem to have clearly been written by disciples of Paul), followed by the texts of the Jerusalem church. These latter texts must be read in light of the Gospel as revealed by Paul lest we stray into religion and abandon the true gospel.

Here is the order I will be following:

PAUL’S WRITING 

Galatians (49-52 CE)
1 Thessalonians (50-53 CE)
2 Thessalonians (50-54 CE)
1 Corinthians (56 CE)
2 Corinthians (57 CE)
Romans (58 CE)
Ephesians (62 CE)
Philippians (62 CE)
Colossians (62 CE)
1 Timothy (62 CE)
2 Timothy (63 CE)
Titus (62 CE)
Philemon (62 CE)
Hebrews (most likely Paul’s but unknown—62-66 CE)

THE GOSPELS OF PAUL’S DISCIPLES

Mark (50-70 CE)
Luke (61 CE)
Acts (61 CE)

JERUSALEM CHURCH’S TEXTS

Matthew (64/70 CE)
James (may be contemporaneous with Paul’s writings—58-63 CE)
1 Peter (63 CE)
2 Peter (64 CE)
Jude (66 CE)

HELLENIZED JEWISH

John (85/90 CE)
1 John (85/90 CE)
2 John (85/90 CE)
3 John (85/90 CE)
Revelations (96 CE)

Read the New Testament along with me or just check-in weekly to read some of the commentaries. There is nothing like hearing the gospel—the scandalous love story of how Jesus elevated us into unity with himself by the giving of his life in a beautiful exchange.

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Image by PhosPictures

It is all too easy to be jaded about Christmas. It seems the decorations, Christmas sales, and overt consumerism kicks into high gear earlier and earlier every year. All those who wouldn’t have given two thoughts to Jesus during the rest of the year dust off their plastic decorations of the Christmas Holy Trinity—Santa, Snowman, swaddling clothed baby Jesus.

Jesus’ birth has become common and unremarkable. Any excitement is merely a glimmer of its former glory. The reality of the birth has lost much of its potency, largely due to a culture which has co-opted every “Christmas” tradition to form a conglomeration we call the “Holiday Spirit.” This “spirit”, without doubt, goads us, not to forget Jesus, but to make Jesus another part of the seasonal yule-tide charm.

Despite the cluttered carriage of baby Jesus, the image of a wrapped-up Christ surrounded by animals, wise men, and angels in a dank barn or cave is common place.

What if Jesus had come today, born on our streets, rather than 2,000 years ago? Would we find it remarkable? Would we find it strange that this “King of Heaven” was born is such poverty, oddity, and “homelessness”? Would we get a better picture of his birth—or perhaps better yet, the humility of it all? Such are some of the challenging thoughts which came to my mind while watching this take on that “Night Divine.”

We have lost the wonder and humility of his birth.

The heart of this season ought to be a reminder of this truly crazy and “irrational” act—that such a supreme being wanted relationship with you and I so badly that he would intentionally pick being born in the gutter to relate to us. “O Holy Night” indeed.

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“The most critical issue facing Christians is not abortion, pornography, the disintegration of the family, moral absolutes, MTV, drugs, racism, sexuality, or school prayer. The critical issue today is dullness. We have lost our astonishment. The Good News is no longer good news, it is okay news. Christianity is no longer life changing, it is life enhancing. Jesus doesn’t change people into wild-eyed radicals anymore, He changes them into ‘nice people.’” – Robert Capon

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Image by Massimo Maggioni

What within humanity is utterly inseparable from the human and the being? What is so basic, raw, and impossible to be without? While there may be many examples of “innate human characteristics”, one dominate element is sociability. The human condition is innately social. And while there are cases of people who pursue minimal human contact, some species of introversion no doubt, those devoid of all social interaction verge on the edge of madness or have some sort of psychosis.

The human is innately social. We were made in this manner.

A cursory reading of the genesis narrative leads the reader to this conclusion: the All Father, the uncreated creator in perpetual community with the Son and the Spirit, made man in their image. Just as they were in community, so too were Adam and Eve made thusly. Of all creation, it was not good that man was alone. Humanity needed companionship and relationship. It is as vital to the human condition as is food and water.

While talking with some acquaintances, television emerged in the conversation. They were befuddled that I did not own a TV. I certainly do not believe television is some terrible vice. As was the case in my youth, I have not wanted the pale flickering light of a television to be the backdrop to everyday life. The average person today watches some 20 hours of programing a week—a serious part-time job in terms of hours spent consuming this media.

In this conversation, however, what I found most interesting was their explanation of “needing” a TV—something for which I never asked. They volunteered their own justification.

“I am at home alone a lot and I get lonely. The TV keeps me company. And I’ll do other tasks, but the TV is on in the background.”

The issue, it seemed to me, was social. They felt lonely and so substituted television for human relationship. But would not real human relationships be an infinitely better “substitution” for a lack of human relationships in contrast to a television?

This problem raises an even larger issue.

In what other areas of life do we put “things” in place of relationships?

As this trend advances and as our lives are increasingly technologized, we have the feigned idea of being more interconnected (and in a certain sense we are). But we will become increasingly more detached from a wider community around us.

Only in this age do we see two neighbors next door to one another utterly lonely, filling their lives with more and more entertainment, but never having spoken a word to one another other than a wave “hello” or “good bye” in passing to and from work.

It would behoove us to intentionally seek relationships, curb loneliness, and interact with those around us in more than a superficial manner. Such socializing may redeem entire communities and give opportunity for the gospel to blossom.

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Image by psychluet

Poverty and Starvation are pervasive problems—just not one’s which many witness themselves in the West. Such troubles become palatable to the westerner when “mission trips” are undertaken and charity displayed. Still, a great distinction exists between knowledge of and charity toward the poor and the sort of compassion and charity which sacrifices comfort and desire for the benefit of others.

America is wealthy. Yet that “wealth” is not felt by many. Indeed, wealth is a relative concept. The wealthy in some regions and countries might be defined as having enough food to eat, a few articles of clothing, a home with a reliable roof, and a battery operated radio. For the middle class suburban American, one might have a nice home, car, access to education, computers, iPhones, and other such fancy devices. Yet by no means would I, as one of the latter, ever normally consider myself wealthy. Wealth, for the normal middle-class American, is the massive home, several expensive cars, designer clothes, and always the best devices and products American consumerism can offer.

Yet, as I type this on my Macbook pro looking while sipping my local Starbucks coffee, a reality check is needed. Indeed, the scruffy middle aged man with the sleeveless Sublime shirt and 49ers hat trying to type on a dilapidated 8 year old PC with electricians tape holding parts together and keys whose buttons now long lost serves as a stark contrast between abundance and lack within this Starbucks.

I am wealthy.

One of my students, while discussing poverty in class recently, mocked the Catholic church for its seeming lack of compassion. He cracked, “I am the pope and need to pray for the poor. Let me lean back in my golden throne.” I could not help but burst into laughter. The image was palatable and laughably ironic. For an organization which has so much wealth, or at least so it would seem by its ornamentation, how could they let any poverty exist among them?

Upon reflection (and while typing on my fancy iPad), it struck me. Why do I think the golden ornamentation is a sign of true wealth and apathy, when I am just as guilty? I, and many others, have wealth all about me which, like golden thrones and crosses, are superfluous in the light of starving children.

In reality, the question should be, do I care about the hurting, starving, and struggling more than my comfort and pleasure? If, in reality, I care more about them, would I not rather exchange my pleasure for their suffering?

A simple question, yet profoundly reveals our hearts—do I care more about my pleasure or another’s suffering? The answer reveals whether selfishness permeates our mind or compassion and love.

May love and compassion grow within us rather than apathy and selfishness.

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