Archive for August, 2011

The Wisdom of the Ages (& the Aged) August 30, 2011

I’ve heard it said that the chain of wisdom always skips a generation; that the lessons of lives long lived are instilled in grandchildren by their grandparents while their parents are working to make ends meet.

That’s not to say that our parents are not wise, rather that our ability to absorb their wisdom as children is clouded by familiarity, authority, and selfishness–we’re predisposed to doubt what they tell us until we grow up to realize they knew exactly whereof they spoke. In the time between birth and that epiphany of maturity, God interposes grandparents.

Maybe we listen to them because they’re a curiosity–we don’t see them daily as we do our parents, their gray hair and glasses make them seem softer, their habits and customs from an earlier time are both confusing and inviting. Maybe we let them teach us because they offer us love with an infinite patience bolstered by the peace and quiet of living somewhere else (without kids) most of the time. Whatever the reasons, this cross-generational transfer of wisdom seems to be part of the design of life.

I’m thinking about this now because my grandfather passed away yesterday at the age of 86, and it’s hard to look at my life and values without seeing his fingerprints everywhere.

A child of the Depression, he taught me that the pursuit of “stuff” was futile and that the simple joys of life are the most enduring: growing your own vegetables, chopping your own firewood, cooking good food and eating the leftovers all week long, and spending evenings with card games and conversation. These habits forged in hard times are as necessary today as ever.

He taught me that life is best enjoyed slowly through his hobbies: fishing from the bank with a cane pole and live bait; taking long walks to no place in particular; working crossword puzzles on the front porch.

Even though he only went through eleven grades before finishing high school, he taught me that life is an ongoing lesson. He was always reading a book or two about whatever caught his fancy. He loved to travel and find out what people were like in different parts of the country and the world by striking up conversations with total strangers (I remember the time he asked a rather stunned coffee-shop waitress in Milo, Maine what kind of crops they grew in that area). He consistently took an avid interest in my school work, even if my lifelong inability to grasp math puzzled him.

By his service in the army at the end of World War II and the stories he told about that, he taught me the value of being a part of something bigger than yourself and of forging lifelong friendships with those who share a difficult experience with you. Even after a year in Japan, he came home to Pine Mountain, and more or less stayed put for the rest of his life. In that, he taught me what a community was and why it was worth putting up with the bad and the ugly to be a part of the good.

Through his daily routines he gave form to generosity and neighborliness. He shared the overflow of his garden with anybody who drove by. He took in more dogs over the years on his little country road corner than most animal shelters. He would insist (to the point of argument) on paying for our family’s meals when we ate out together. In short, he knew that money and possessions make us happier when we use them primarily to meet needs and give good gifts to others.

By his commitment through thick and thin, choir, Sunday school, VBS, and Wednesday suppers, he taught me the vitality and value of the local church. Following Christ is not something we can do in private, and he loved his church, warts and all, for decades.

When I think about all these things and more as the memories wash over me, I recognize that most of the areas of my life that are distinctly “me” are often my subconscious attempts to be like him. The world of today is a far cry from his rural Georgia upbringing, but the person that made him is a type of man the world needs more of. I only hope the Lord sees fit to bless me with a life long enough to pass some of these things on to my own grandchildren some day.

Posted by Justin Lonas

Reforming Humility August 3, 2011

“…and all of you clothe yourselves with humility toward one another, for ‘God is opposed to the proud, but gives grace to the humble’” (1 Pet. 5:5, quoting Prov. 3:34).

I tend to spend a lot of time writing about theology, but I’d like to take a moment to write about how we write (and talk) about theology. When we discuss theological issues, particularly those surrounding core tenets of the faith, there is often a subtle strain underpinning the approach of both sides of every debate–pride.

On the side of liberalism lies the temptation to  the pride of discovering the “hidden truths” of Christianity & the sense of enlightenment that accompanies that assumption. On the side of orthodoxy lurks the pride of the elder brother, delighting more in besting the prodigal than in the purity of loving the father. This is not to say that debates of this nature are unimportant–they are often critically so–but that the attitudes and actions toward one another to which Christ and the apostles call us in general apply equally strongly here. Those of us who want to contend for the faith (particularly those of us in the Reformed tradition of robust assurance of doctrine) must be painstakingly cautious to avoid placing our pride above the truth we love, lest we tempt our detractors to abandon it altogether. Let’s look at a few passages of Scripture that lay this out for us.

In the first place, we need to be very careful where we draw divisions over theology in the first place. Jesus prayed, “Sanctify them in truth; Your word is truth. As you sent Me into the world, I also have sent them into the world. For their sakes I sanctify Myself, that they themselves may also be sanctified in truth. I do not ask on behalf of these alone, but for those who believer in Me through their word; that they may all be one; even as You, Father, are in Me and I in You, that they also may be in Us, so that the world may believe that You sent Me” (John 17: 17-21).

Clearly, the unity of the Body is of primary concern–it distorts the very image of God when His people are divided. Notice, though, that the unity Christ prayed for is grounded on the sanctification that comes from the truth of God’s Word. Unity where there should be separation brings dishonor to the Lord (like when Paul admonished the Corinthians for keeping fellowship with brazen fornicators in 1 Corinthians 5:2, “you have become arrogant and have not mourned, so that the one who had done this deed would be removed from your midst.“). Watering down the Gospel in the name of keeping fellowship with those who disbelieve ultimately leads to faithlessness and greater schisms down the road. By the same token, however, making a federal case of every little issue that should be the subject of a talk over a cup of coffee unnecessarily disrupts the unity that we should have together against our common foes.

Secondly, we should consider the ways in which we pursue the unity Christ calls us to. Paul elaborates at length on the specific ways Christians ought to treat one another, “Let love be without hypocrisy. Abhor what is evil; cling to what is good. Be devoted to one another in brotherly love; give preference to one another in honor; not lagging behind in diligence, fervent in spirit, serving the Lord; rejoicing in hope, persevering in tribulation, devoted to prayer, contributing to the needs of the of the saints, practicing hospitality. Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse. Rejoice with those who rejoice, and weep with those who weep. Be of the same mind toward one another; do not be haughty in mind, but associate with the lowly. Do not be wise in your own estimation. Never pay back evil for evil to anyone. Respect what is right in the sight of all men. If possible, so far as it depends on you, be at peace with all men” (Rom. 12:9-18).

This list has a lot of active verbs, reminding us that the love of the Body does not come passively but must be pursued and cultivated to bear fruit. Paul urges a sincere love, one that unites us both in opposition to sin and falsehood (”abhor what is evil“) and in commitment to the person and work of Christ (”cling to what is good“). He goes farther, though, exhorting believers to love their enemies as well, blessing them and returning good for evil. If Christ’s high priestly prayer urges us to zealously guard our unity, Paul’s list urges us to treat the opposition with all the courtesy and grace they deny to us. Neither leaves any room for arrogance, spite, or violence (physical or verbal).

The bottom line is humility. If we want to hold fiercely to the truths of Scripture, we have to trust God to defend His Word. This does not mean that we should hide the truth or back away from biblical stances that are unpopular with the world, but it does mean that the Word does not rise or fall on our defense of it. When we place our whole faith in Him, He will give us the grace to speak the truth in love (cf. Eph. 4:15) in every situation. If you are in the right on a given issue, be right, but do so standing in the manifold grace of God revealed in His Word by His Spirit rather than on the strength of your conviction.

Finally, Peter tells us, “all of you be harmonious, sympathetic, brotherly, kindhearted, and humble in spirit; not returning evil for evil or insult for insult, but giving a blessing instead; for you were called for the very purpose that you might inherit a blessing” (1 Pet. 3:8-9). If the message of the Gospel is distorted by the shrillness of its delivery or the conduct of the messenger, then we are blessing no one and failing our calling. Our Gospel proclamation should leave no room for anyone but Christ to be the featured player in the story.

Posted by Justin Lonas

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