Wednesday, March 23, 2011

March 23, 2011: Reverence

In George MacDonald's The Musician's Quest, 14-year-old Robert Falconer finds a violin in his attic and brings it to a local shoemaker who knows how to play. The poor man had pawned his own violin a year earlier and had not touched one in a while. But as Dooble Sanny began to play a tune on the attic fiddle, young Robert, enraptured, resolved to become a musician himself. MacDonald writes,

What added considerably to the excitement of his feelings was the expression of reverence and awe with which the shoemaker took the instrument from its case, and the tenderness with which he handled it...The moment he began to play, the face of the shoemaker grew ecstatic. He stopped at the very first note, let his arms fall, one with the bow and the other with the violin, at his sides and exclaimed solemnly, "The creature must be a Straddle Various at least! Listen to her! I have never had such a combination of wood and catgut between my fingers before."

As to its being a Stradivarius, the testimony of Dooble Sanny was not worth much. But the shoemaker's admiration roused in the boy's mind a reverence for the individual instrument which he never lost.


The reader cherishes the hope that Robert, inspired by reverence, would go on to become a conduit of that same feeling in the hearts of others. Good reverence begets more. Seeds of reverence find fertile soil in the hearts of good people who want to be awed.

I believe that all of us who make it our business (or accept our calling) to minister the goodness of God to the souls of men must never forget the desire he has placed within them to be overwhelmed by that which is grand and holy. People are tickled by spectacle and stimulated by entertainment, but they are unlikely to be moved unless they revere. They must be moved genuinely, not by contrived attempts to manipulate their emotions but by being allowed to see, through us, quiet glimpses of wonderful things.

A friend who is thinking about going to church regularly told me that last week someone invited him to a giant church in Chicago's western suburbs. He said that they didn't actually go into the sanctuary (or is it stadium?). The church had a cafeteria or restaurant of sorts, and they ate breakfast there as people milled around and shopped and watched a live feed of the worship service on a large screen. The service featured an as-seen-on-TV inspirational speaker and (in honor of St. Patrick's Day) a professional troupe of Irish dancers who kicked up a storm. Glancing at me, my friend said, "I don't imagine that's your kind of thing, is it?"

No, I can't say that it is. Leave aside the question of whether a bacon-and-eggs, Riverdance-and-God approach to worship reflects the kind of corruption that so infuriated Jesus at the temple in Jerusalem (John 2:13-16). Just ask this: how can anybody be drawn into the presence of God in an atmosphere so deliberately casual and carnival? St. Paul wanted first-time visitors to be convicted of sin and fall down and worship, saying "God is truly among you!" (1 Corinthians 14:24-25) - not, "I kind of liked how non-threatening it was, and I must say I really had fun."

But "fun" seems to be the driving force behind many churches today. Note how many times that word appears in the following blurb for a church that recently opened in Naperville:

At Resolution Church, we believe that faith should be fun and relate to everyday life! While adults enjoy our modern worship experience, the children are having fun a few steps away in their very own theater with some of the most creative programming today...So whatever your spiritual background, we invite you to join the fun and explore Christianity at your own pace.

Like Hamlet contemplating Yorick's skull, "my gorge rises" at such a revolting trivialization of Christian faith and fellowship. Concerning fun - which I like as much as the next man - it would be good for all evangelists to remember C. S. Lewis' wise comment in Mere Christianity: "Repentance is no fun at all."

Reverence and awe, not fun and games, provide the right atmosphere for a sinful soul's approach to God. In The Supremacy of God in Preaching, John Piper writes, "I have seen a strange silence begin to come over a congregation and watched the preacher, seemingly intentionally, dispel it quickly with some lighthearted quip or the use of a pun or a witticism" - as though the holy hush of reverential silence were a thing to be ashamed of rather than embraced.

But reverence rightly cultivated opens the soul to receive the benefits of all that is good - whether that be the goodness of violin music or the goodness of God.

Saturday, March 19, 2011

March 19, 2011: Who Is Washing Whose Feet?

Let us suppose that you are in the presence of Jesus and some foot-washing is going on. Understand first that in the ancient Middle East foot-washing was a menial job done by slaves or perhaps by the youngest member of a household. A five-year-old could do it. Independent grown men did not wash one another's feet. It was an act of deference that lesser people did for the benefit of greater people.

So again, you're with Jesus and there is a bucket and a towel handy. Who is washing whose feet? Is he washing yours, or are you washing his?

In John 13 Jesus washed his disciples' feet, and this unusual act of service - Jesus the king taking the role of a slave! - has tempted some proud souls to view Jesus as their foot-washer in chief. I have even heard sermons encouraging people to regard Jesus this way: "If Jesus were here, he'd want to wash your feet." But such rhetoric misses the point of what Jesus did that night.

Consider this: how many times did Jesus wash his disciples' feet? Once. Once only. After his resurrection four days later, he met with his disciples repeatedly and even ate with them, but it is not recorded that he ever washed their feet again. Of course, the notion of them expecting him to do so is preposterous and vile. Imagine Peter meeting Jesus later and exclaiming (while slipping out of sandals and plopping down prone on a mat), "Jesus! Good thing you're here. Boy did I step in some nasty stuff outside. Bucket's in the corner. You'll find a towel in the closet."

When Jesus washed his disciples' feet, he was not, not saying to them, "From now on I want you to view me as your humble servant. Any time you need a good foot-washing, I'm there for you." God forbid. On the contrary, Jesus made his point explicit by saying, "Do you understand what I have done for you? You call me ‘Teacher’ and ‘Lord,’ and rightly so, for that is what I am. Now that I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also should wash one another’s feet. I have set you an example that you should do as I have done for you" (John 13:13-15). The lesson was clear: Jesus served his disciples not because he was their servant, but because he wanted them to serve one another.

If you would like to picture yourself in a foot-washing episode with Jesus, the text you want to go to is Luke 7:36-48. There a penitent sinner washed Jesus' feet. While Jesus dined with a Pharisee, a woman "who had lived a sinful life" wet his feet with her tears, wiped them with her hair, and poured perfume on them. She grieved her sin and served Jesus with all she had. The Pharisee, on the other hand, didn't even bother providing Jesus with the normal services that should have been done for an honored guest.

The Bible likes to pair up penitent people grieving their sin with impenitent self-righteous snots and declare that only the former are forgiven. For more examples of this theme see the parable of the tax collector and the Pharisee (Luke 18:9-14) and the story of the two men crucified next to Jesus (Luke 23:39-43). Penitent people hate their sin and throw themselves unconditionally at Jesus' feet. The proud, on the other hand - if they relate to Jesus at all - seem to view him as their service-provider. That service need not be foot-washing: it could be a free meal (John 6:26); a miraculous show (Luke 23:8); a manifestation of prophetic insight (Luke 7:39; 22:64); a financial windfall (Luke 12:13); or even a fiery judgment on those who irritate them (Luke 9:54).

View yourself as a servant of Jesus Christ. You're here to honor him, render service to him, do his will rather than wait for him to do yours. Demand nothing of him, but humbly plead his grace. To paraphrase President John F. Kennedy, ask not what Jesus can do for you. Ask what you can do for Jesus.

Saturday, March 5, 2011

March 5, 2011: George MacDonald And The Unveiling Of Character

In The Landlady's Master, George MacDonald writes,

[W]hat we call degeneracy is often the unveiling of what was there all the time, and the evil we become, we are. If I have in me the tyrant or the miser, there he is, and such am I - as surely as if the tyrant or the miser were even now visible to the wondering dislike of my neighbors.

Something I have noticed again and again in MacDonald's novels is the way in which the deep character flaws of his villains are gradually revealed through the circumstances that come upon them. Their depravity does not always rest visibly on the surface. MacDonald is right: what appears to be a man's "fall" into corruption is often simply the manifestation of wickedness that was already there, fully formed, waiting for the right events to expose it to light. Goodness is equally latent. Circumstances do not create character so much as they reveal it.

You can think of it this way. Imagine two men who both wake up in the morning, have coffee and breakfast, shower and brush their teeth, go to work, come home, eat, run errands, go to bed. Which man is evil and which one is good? Which one - in biblical terms - is a fruitful stalk of wheat, and which one is a tare fit for burning? On a given day you may not see much to distinguish them. That is because no testing circumstances have pried open their souls to let you see what's inside.

But now start throwing circumstances at them. Give both men a bitchy wife, for example. One man suffers quietly, endures, remains faithful, tries what he can to inspire his wife to goodness, and encourages other men who are similarly burdened. The other man starts drinking, grows bitter, cheats on her, and deliberately provokes her to more outrageous behavior so that the marriage will dissolve.

Or give both men lots of money. One man lives modestly, gives generously, creates job opportunities for others, blesses his neighbor. The other buys a luxury car and a mansion and gets plastic surgery and dumps his aging wife for a trophy.

Or make them sick. Many a man's pleasant disposition depends crucially on nature's gift of energy and strength. Assault the source of his pride with debilitation so that now, in his own eyes, he amounts to little more than the object of charitable goodwill - and what becomes of his cheerful good grace?

Goodness and evil are both found deep in the heart. I do not believe in sudden falls from grace so much as I do in sudden unveilings. Nor do I believe that great acts of courage or discipline or charity can spring spontaneously from unprepared souls. As Jesus said in Luke 6:45: "The good man brings good things out of the good stored up in his heart, and the evil man brings evil things out of the evil stored up in his heart. For out of the overflow of his heart his mouth speaks."