Theology Archives - Page 21 of 66 - Kuyperian Commentary

On December 6, 2020 By Bill Smith In Culture, Theology, Worship 1

Devouring Houses

Whenever we see a powerful person using his power to abuse the weak in any way, something goes off in us. There is a great sense of anger at the injustice of it. The big kid on the playground bullying the weakling, the husband abusing his wife, or the parent beating his child raises our righteous ire. We know innately that this isn’t right. Powerful people ought not to be using their power to pummel the weak.

But why? If we actually lived in a universe in which evolution was a reality, these sorts of actions would make sense. The strong survive. The weak do not. Sometimes the strong must eliminate the weak in order to survive because of the scarcity of resources, to eliminate threats, or to demonstrate to others what will happen if they are challenged.

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On November 22, 2020 By Bill Smith In Counseling/Piety, Culture, Theology 2

Freedom From Fear

Since therefore the children share in flesh and blood, he himself likewise partook of the same things, that through death he might destroy the one who has the power of death, that is, the devil, and deliver all those who through fear of death were subject to lifelong slavery. ~ Hebrews 2.14-15

Fear is paralyzing. Growing in the soil of uncertainty and the prospect of losing what we hold dear, fear blooms full flower, debilitating us so that we are unable to take the risks of living life. If allowed, fear will tyrannize your life, manipulating all of your thoughts and actions to avoid the perceived threats. You will see the world around you, whether people or air itself, as out to get you and those whom you hold dear. Consequently, you will live your life with a bunker mentality.

One of the main instigators of fear is lack of hope. You see little to no prospect beyond your present circumstances, so you must hold on to whatever you have right now, anxiously guarding it at all costs. And it is costing you. Your health is suffering and your joy is practically non-existent.

If people can convince you to be afraid, they can control you. They can tyrannize you. If they can convince you, for instance, that a virus will take the most precious thing away from you–your life–they can make you comply with all sorts of irrational strictures. Though the science is hardly conclusive, they will convince you to wear a mask, viewing others as a constant threat to your well-being and understanding yourself as a weaponized pathogenic murderer whose breath will slay hundreds around you. They will convince you to cut yourself off from human interaction by covering your face or avoiding holiday celebrations because of the tyranny of fear. You might even become an evangelist of fear, an ordained “Karen,” calling the infidels on social media and in stores to repent and believe the gospel of fear, adorning yourself with the vestments of fear, and participating in the sacraments of fear. You want to save the world through the world joining you in fear of death.

Fear keeps people under control. Rome used fear to bring in and sustain the Pax Romana, the Roman Peace. If a nation didn’t want their gift, they would crucify hundreds and thousands to bring the rest under control. Our governments in the United States use the threat of taking away your livelihood to give you the gift of life. Keep people in fear and they will stay under control.

But what if people are not slaves to fear, especially fear of death, the ultimate threat? What if they have hope that this life is not all there is to this life? Those types of people can be trouble.

Hope is powerful. Hope draws us into the future, infusing our present words and actions with purpose and meaning. Hope will move you to take what others consider “risks,” suffer hardships, and even face death. Hope drives us. Hope defines and directs our lives. Hope subjugates fear.

The Sadducees who questioned Jesus in Luke 20 were a hopeless lot. They didn’t believe in the resurrection. Because of this, everything that they would ever have, they believed, was in this present life. They were the aristocrats in Israel empowered by Rome and liked things the way they were. Jesus proclaiming a kingdom that demands taking up a cross and following him with the hope of resurrection did not appeal to them. They had their best life now. They had their only life now. Jesus and his gospel were not expedient for their present circumstances, and his claims and actions in the temple threatened to undo their present comforts, overturning the system in which they had power and influence. The lack of hope, the fear of death, controlled them. Jesus’ hope and confidence in the face of death drove him into non-compliance with the present powers-that-be and disrupted the status quo. Fearless people rooted in hope always do.

Those of us who have taken up our crosses and followed Jesus are to have the same hope and, consequently, the same fearlessness that he had in the face of the ruling class in Israel. We are not to be controlled by fear of man or his weapon of death. That is bondage. The life that they promise under their tyranny of fear is mere existence; it is amorphous, expressionless faces, empty feasting tables, unpopulated sanctuaries, isolation, and dying alone. They do it all to save your life. They do it, they say, so that you may survive. And you may survive … for a while … but you’re not living.

Christ Jesus, by suffering death on our behalf and rising again from the dead came to free us from the bondage of the fear of death that holds us in bondage. Believe. Hope. Live.

On November 17, 2020 By Uri Brito In Politics, Theology Like

Sexuality in the Age of Harry Styles

By now, some of you have seen the Dunkirk actor, Harry Styles, receive the acclaim as the first solo male to appear on Vogue Magazine. The reason for his astronomical debut is because he dare push the norms of masculinity. But Harry is already known for his theatrics. In his own words, he wishes to be the role model for fashion fluidity. His heroes, Prince and Elton John, are icons whose flamboyant pieces of clothing meant they could reach the stars with their expressive colors and spontaneity. Masculinity, that old archaic, word is only functional when he sees fit; at other times, it’s just the West’s assumption; after all, if I deem to be female while inheriting male organs, I can; because ultimately, I create and re-create myself in my own image.

And this, ladies and gentlemen (and you should identity yourself with one of those two options exclusively and without possibility of alternation) is precisely why we, Christians in the West, should have two immediate reactions to what took place:

First, we should feel enormous pity for such human beings. There is high degree of chance that there is some form of abuse that took place in his life. He may be the exception, but the fact that he surrounds himself with the Hollywood elites is a sure sign that this young man has suffered in some way either sexually or verbally to achieve this level of insanity. This kind of confusion is most often the result of the sexual bifurcation that happens early on, and of which Hollywood is complicit in perpetuating its culture.

But the second reaction to Harry’s dress-up session is absolute, unadulterated mockery. Not only is this young man a tool of the left, but he is a tool of the devil who loves to insinuate that what is obscenely abnormal should be the norm. Styles put on a dress and went on Vogue to reveal that his masculinity can play games with God. Make no mistake: Styles is taunting God’s style. But God is not mocked, neither does he favor image-bearers returning their masculinity back to the Creator. When God gave us a sex, there was a “no-return policy” attached to it.

Candace Owens jumped on this display of weakness and asserted that this is not what a “manly man” looks like and that “no society can survive without strong man.” The fact that her opinations earned the wrath of the right pagans is good enough for me. But, I would like to go a step further and assert that Styles is the embodiment of judgment. He is what happens when good men do nothing; when dads don’t take their boys out to the ball game; when dads choose domestic obscurity over domestic presence; when they choose profession over pouring affection on their young boys.

Adam attempted to cover himself with fig leaves to cover his shame, Styles attempted to cover his masculinity with an outdated subversion of gender norms. In the end, a man is a man is a man. You can’t hide your uniqueness and you can’t hide your identity from the One who sees your nakedness and form.

If there is ever a time to pray for our young boys, it’s now! If there is ever a time to seek the good of our children’s education, it is now! As Justin Trudeau stated recently, “it’s time for a reset.” Except, unlike Trudeau, who wishes for more more Harry Styles to populate the earth, I am petitioning God to take us back to the foundational steps of civilization when men knew that we dress up to attack evil, and women dress up to mother young boys to put on the armor God gave them in their baptisms.

On November 15, 2020 By Bill Smith In Culture, Politics, Theology, Wisdom Like

Taxes

The issue of taxes can be a volatile subject. A political party’s position on taxes is one of the great dividing lines that emerges in many political campaigns. Taxes don’t merely concern issues of dollars and cents (though we are all happier to keep as much money as we possibly can). Taxes speak to issues of authority, the size and scope of government, charity, private property, civic responsibility, and many other issues.

Let’s look at one particular tax for illustrative purposes: property taxes. We pay property taxes to provide a number of different services for the local area. Whether you agree with those services and the place of government in providing them is not my concern at this point. The tax itself is the issue. What does the property tax say about private property? Quite frankly, it tells the citizenry that there is no such thing as private property. You have the privilege of spending money on a piece of land and building a house on it, but the land is owned by the local government. If you don’t believe me, don’t pay your property tax. You will see who owns the land within a few months. You will be evicted from the land and house you thought you purchased.

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On November 8, 2020 By Bill Smith In Discipleship, Theology Like

The Vineyard

In Luke 20 Jesus tells the story of Israel in a parable concerning a vineyard in which the lord of the vineyard has hired tenants to tend and guard his vineyard. The lord of the vineyard created this vineyard to enjoy the wine that would be produced. The tenants were expected to cultivate this vineyard so that the lord of the vineyard might have what he wished. Jesus goes on to tell how the tenants were rebellious, beating and killing the many servants the lord sent to them. Finally, he sent his only son. The tenants believed this was their opportunity to seize the inheritance for themselves, consuming the vineyard’s produce completely upon themselves. They kill the son and cast him out of the vineyard. This, as I said, is the story of Israel killing the prophets and eventually Jesus himself.

There is much on which to focus in this parable, but the underlying imagery of the parable is intriguing. A vineyard. Why a vineyard? How does the imagery of a vineyard reflect God’s relationship with his people? How does the imagery of a vineyard tell us what God expects of us?

The imagery itself is common in Scripture when speaking about Israel. In Psalm 80 we sing that Israel is a vine that has been delivered out of Egypt and planted in the land God promised. In a song closely associated with Jesus’ parable, Isaiah relates Yahweh’s condemnation of Israel with the imagery of a vineyard (Isa 5.1-7). God’s people are to be a vineyard. The purpose of a vineyard is to produce grapes that can be crushed, turned into wine, and consumed. Wine induces joy (Ps 104.15) and rest. It can also cause one to become drunk and stagger to his own destruction (Jer 25.15; Rev 14.10; 16.19). Whatever the result of the wine might be–blessing or curse–what lies at the bottom of the imagery is that wine is consumable.

Vineyards are meant to produce in order to be consumed. So it is with the lives of God’s people. We are created to produce fruit to be consumed by others: God himself, our fellow Christians, and the world around us. The question is then, “What sort of fruit are we producing?”

In the song of Isaiah (Isa 5.1-7), God found only wild grapes that weren’t beneficial in any way. Israel had not fulfilled her purpose. She was created in order to bring joy and rest to the world for those who saw her faithfulness and followed it and condemnation to those who refused to follow it. But her unfaithfulness did neither. Consequently, God tore up his vineyard. God still expects consumable fruit from his people. Paul tells us in Galatians 5.22-23 what this fruit is: “… the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control….” This is the fruit that we are to be producing that is to be consumed by those around us.

How do we know if we are producing these fruits? Is it a matter of my personal evaluation of my life? Not really. You can tell what people are eating by the consequences. In the same way, you can tell what people are consuming from your life by the consequences in your relationships. Are people encouraged in your presence? Is your presence joy-inducing? Or do good folks dread to see you coming, knowing that you are going to have a list of all that has gone wrong throughout your whole life, and you’re willing to share with anyone who asks, “How are you doing?” Are your friends, spouse, and/or children at rest in your presence, able to laugh and relax, or does your presence produce tension? How do the unrighteous respond to your presence? For those longing for life, are they able to consume your presence and find that life? Are those who are in open rebellion against God repulsed by your presence? Our lives are created to be and are consumed by others around us. What kind of diet are we providing?

On November 7, 2020 By Kuyperian In Theology Like

On Younger Brothers and Older Brothers in the Bible

Guest Post by Max Graham

The theme of brotherhood is a deep one. Read the Bible and it’ll be spoken of quite a bit. But what is the Bible saying?

The Bible is a complex piece of literature. That shouldn’t come as much of a surprise to those reading this blog. Read any “Through New Eyes” commentary to get evidence of this.[i] But complex in what way?

Complex linguistically?

Yes, since it was written in many styles, in many languages, with many voices.

Complex culturally?

Of course, since it was written over many centuries and begun thousands of years ago.

Complex stylistically?

Certainly, since many different genres are housed in this book.

But what I mean is that the Bible is complex thematically, since there are many different themes coursing through and circling around the drama.

The narrative plot is straight-forward. One can summarize the basic story in a few sentences. But, then again, one can also summarize the basic story of Star Wars in a few sentences. The themes, however, are a bit harder to condense. Just focusing on the theme of, say for example, Luke’s journey as an archetypal hero will take a bit of time and some serious reflection. In the case of the Bible, this gets intensified by the simple fact that there are so many themes operating at the same time, with God’s Spirit breathing life into all of them. The theme of Father and Son is a prominent one, and so is the theme of Exodus and Redemption.[ii] One can write a book (or a sizeable series) on these, as well as on a multitude of other themes. On the recurrence of the Garden of Eden and its successor City-Garden, on the prevalence of Nazirites in Scripture, on Males and Females, Words and Images, on holy warfare, on God as Architect building a House for His Name, on the Trinity. I think you get my picture. We shouldn’t be squeamish about this. There’s a lot going on here and – like a good piece of music – we can distinguish the themes at the same time as we enjoy them collectively. So, with all that said, let me focus your attention on one significant recurring theme in the Bible: Brotherhood. Here are some musings on this fantastic theme.

Let’s start by remembering all of the brotherly pairs that are mentioned in Genesis. First, you have Cain and Abel. Later, Ishmael and Isaac. Next, Esau and Jacob. Then Jacob’s elder sons and Joseph as the youngest brother. Finally, you end with Manasseh and his younger brother Ephraim. Genesis seems to be a big book of brothers (and I even left out some pairs). And the major stories certainly revolve around these fraternal pairings. And that’s just Genesis. If you search further, you can find Moses and Aaron, Eliab and David, Absalom and Solomon, not to mention the New Testament examples.

Let me now make a claim: whenever you get the situation of an older brother with a younger brother, what inevitably seems to happen is that the older brother fails at doing something while the younger brother succeeds. In other words, (1) the older brother is given a responsibility, (2) the older brother fails at that responsibility, (3) the younger brother accomplishes what the older brother failed to do, and (4) the younger brother reaps the rewards.

Cain messes up his sacrifice, while God accepts Abel’s sacrifice. Esau impatiently blows his birthright on a bowl of stew while Jacob succeeds in established God’s kingdom through patient laboring. Jacob’s older sons (acting as a unified front, with Reuben dissenting a bit) mercilessly selling Joseph off to slavers while Joseph mercifully protects his brothers during a famine. Aaron succumbs to the crowd’s pressure and gives them an idol, while Moses faithfully rejects the sins of the people. Eliab acts as one of the cowardly soldiers too afraid to fight Goliath (although he is able to berate his child-brother David for having the nerve to bring Eliab some food), while David boldly goes off to fight without armor. Absalom grasps for power, Solomon asks for wisdom.[iii]

The Bible moves along in the story of the Older Brother and the Younger Brother until we get to the ultimate example at the heart of the Gospel. Here we have the original “older brother” Adam – described as the son of God in Luke’s genealogy – and his “younger brother” Jesus – who is both referred to as the “Son of God” (constantly) and is the “younger” one (at least in a certain sense with respect to his incarnational place in history). Adam fails in his task of being a faithful High Priest, protecting his bride and cultivating God’s garden, while Jesus continues to protect His Bride and to renew the World. We don’t usually think of Adam and Jesus in this way, but I think it’s fairly grounded in Scripture.

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On November 1, 2020 By Bill Smith In Church, Culture, Politics, Theology 1

The Politics of All Saints Day

From the earliest days of history, there has been a war going on; sometimes with more visible intensity and sometimes with less, but it is always there, churning underneath friendships, marriages, and geopolitical relationships. This war is the war between the woman and the serpent, between her seed and his seed established by God just after the fall, declared plainly to us in Genesis 3.15. From the beginning, it has been a bloody battle. Cain, the seed of the serpent, killed his righteous brother, Abel, the seed of the woman, because Abel’s deeds were righteous and Cain’s were wicked (1Jn 3.12).

The battle has continued through the ages, both before and after the coming of Christ Jesus. Those opposed to God and his way of ordering life have sought to eradicate the righteous, whether they were the prophets of the old creation, Jesus himself, or his apostles. The war continues even after that first generation after Jesus’ resurrection. The early church tells us of men such as Polycarp and Justin, women such as Perpetua and Blandina along with many others. The cruel ways in which all of these died cannot be matched, but the numbers of modern-day martyrs far exceed the numbers of our early church. One author says that 2019 was one of the bloodiest years in church history. We hear of eleven Christians beheaded in Nigeria in December of 2019, and this is followed up by over 1,200 being killed in Nigeria in the first six months of 2020. Then there is the Middle East where there is what some are saying is coming close to Christian genocide. North Korea, China, Sri Lanka, and many other countries are targeting Christians for persecution and death.

The war has never stopped. While we know that there is a war, the question must be asked, What are we fighting for? Is this war merely the fact that these individuals over here don’t like the individuals on the other side of the line? No. This is a political war, and the feast of All Saints is all about politics.

The feast of All Saints began in some form or fashion early in the church. Though it is celebrated at different times in different branches of the church, there is a time in churches all around the world that the church commemorates the lives of all of the unnamed martyrs along with those loved ones we have personally known who have borne faithful witness to Christ throughout their lives and have now, having fought a good fight, have gone to their rest. Many saints’ lives are celebrated by name throughout the year. All Saints is the day for the millions of others who have no special day, giving the church a time to reflect upon those unsung heroes, as we might say, or those whom we knew personally, who encouraged us and left us an example to follow. This follows the pattern of Hebrews 11 of remembering and being encouraged by the departed faithful.

When we think about the martyrs and celebrating their lives, we probably recall the courage of a Polycarp or Thomas Cranmer who faced the flames, or Ignatius, who was torn to pieces by lions in a Roman arena. Their courage rooted in faith was exemplary and is to be emulated by all of us in our daily lives. But their deaths witnessed to more than just personal courage rooted in their own convictions. Their deaths were a proclamation to the world, and particularly their persecutors, that the kingdoms of this world have become the kingdoms of our Lord and of his Christ.

In Jesus’ death and subsequent resurrection, the nature of his kingdom was revealed as one that had power over death itself. Being that this was the greatest power of any government over its people, a power that kept people subservient through fear of death, Jesus Christ and his people declared through their willingness to die that all political systems, all governments, were ultimately subservient to Jesus’ lordship and would, eventually, be subjugated by him. The Christian faith threatened to undo all of the political systems based on the fear of death. Martyrs were and are the ultimate witness to the principalities and powers that their time is short.

We have a hard time in America understanding martyrdom because we view religion as a private commitment that is not to interfere with politics. As Amy Coney Barrett proudly proclaimed, her personal religious beliefs would not interfere with judgments about the law. And that’s the way it ought to be. Don’t bring religion into politics. There should be a wall of separation between the church and the state, right?

When we think like this, we yield the field, forsake our mission, and are poor stewards of the inheritance left to us by the martyrs. The Christian mission has always been political because the purpose of man is political; that is, we were created to take dominion, build a kingdom, build the city, the polis, of God so that every area of life images the life of God’s heaven. There is no “secular” space in this sense; some sort of neutral space where God does not claim absolute rule. Through his death and resurrection, Jesus was granted all authority in heaven and on earth by the Father (Matt 28.18; cf. also Phil 2.5-11). Through the blood of his cross, Jesus reconciled the world to himself, putting everything under his lordship, visible or invisible, whether they be thrones or dominions, principalities or powers (Col 1.15-20).

The word gospel itself, as it was used in the first century, was a political announcement. It was used to speak of the birthday or the conquest of a king. The gospel of Jesus Christ is the announcement that Jesus is Lord; that he reigns, having received the nations as his inheritance, just as the Father promised. All kings must come and bow and kiss the Son lest he be angry (cf. Pss 2; 72). As we proclaim the gospel, the church is a threat to the political systems in rebellion against the Christ of God.

As we worship, offering up our prayers, God shakes up the geopolitical landscape (cf. Revelation, esp. 8.1-4). Worship is a political action.

The martyrs did not give their lives because they had personal disputes about private, interior religion. They were killed because the church’s existence and her proclamation that Jesus is Lord threatened to undo all of the kingdoms of the world–the political systems. They could courageously give their lives because death had been conquered, stripping every satanic kingdom of its greatest weapon: fear of death (Heb 2.14-15).

We may not give our lives as many of our fathers and mothers did or as many of our brothers and sisters are doing even now. But we must live with the bold faith of the martyrs, pressing the crown rights of King Jesus through every square inch of the world.

On October 31, 2020 By Uri Brito In Theology Like

Why I am Reformed

Dear Friend,

You inquired so honestly about why I am committed to a Reformed vision of life, that I feel compelled to at least give you a brief overview.

First, it’s important to note that I am Reformed in the catholic sense. By “catholic,” I mean in the sense that I have high regard for other traditions. While I am committed to many features of the 16th Century Protestant Reformation (see below), I am in no way committed to abiding by every doctrine that sprung from that era. However, when I do disagree with my forefathers, I don’t do it flippantly, but with tremendous respect and caution. They were so loyal to the Scriptures that when I disagree with their interpretation I do it with as much humility I can muster.

Second, I am compelled by the Reformed faith because it exalts God to a place of highest honor. Of course, other traditions exalt God, but the Reformed faith places God as the center of all thinking, living, doing, and abiding. In a culture so heavily invested in the wants and desires of men, the Reformed tradition places the glory of God above all earthly glories.

Third, and perhaps one of the central aspects that drew me to the theology of Calvin, Luther, and Bucer was their immense love for the Holy Bible. The Bible was for them the central and primary authority over all matters of faith and practice. Instead of relying on methods that excuse or draws us away from the text, the Reformed faith is unapologetically biblical. God is and therefore everything flows from that presupposition.

Fourth, and I owe this largely to Martin Luther, but what draws me more and more every day to the Reformed faith is its principle that when you sing you pray twice (Augustine). Luther believed that the congregation needed to be committed to singing God’s words and sound theology. I still recall my first experience in a Reformed church and singing:

His kingdom cannot fail;
He rules o’er earth and heav’n.
The keys of death and hell
To Christ the Lord are giv’n.

I never heard such piercing and powerful lyrics. For the Reformed, the congregation is the choir.

Finally, I am Reformed because of Abraham Kuyper’s mission to apply the Christian faith to every sphere of life. He once wrote: “There is not a square inch in the whole domain of our human existence over which Christ, who is Sovereign over all, does not cry, Mine!” For the Reformed, to be a Christian is not just a state of being, but a verb. A Christian christianizes. He brings the joys of heaven to everything he touches on earth.

If I had more time, I’d talk about how the Reformation renewed a true vision of the Church, but I think my outline above should suffice. Again, thanks for your question and I am looking forward to your feedback.

Yours Truly.

On October 25, 2020 By Bill Smith In Culture, Discipleship, Politics, Theology Like

Authorized

What if your pastor and elders mandated that every person attending worship must wear a toga? They have concluded that this will be good for the spiritual health of the church by promoting unity among the members as well as warding off evil spirits and those who aren’t serious about worshiping Jesus. After you finished laughing because you thought it was a joke, realizing that your church leadership was serious, you would rightly question whether or not the command was legitimate. Do they really have the authority to do that? If they insisted they did, quoting Hebrews 13.17, then you would probably leave because you realized that this was outside of the boundaries of what they can require. And you would be right.

The same is true with civil governments, a reality that has smacked us in the face in 2020. Governors and local officials have been issuing mandates that tell us what we must wear, how we shop, with how many people we can gather, and in what manner we may or may not worship. While there are questions concerning the effectiveness and consistency of the enforcement of these mandates, there is a more fundamental question that underlies everything: do they have Constitutional authority to make and enforce these mandates under penalty of law? Being a Constitutional Republic means that this is the issue that goes beyond masks and mass gatherings. The law of our land is (theoretically) king, not the officials. They are elected to protect our Constitutional liberties and are subject to them as well. They cannot make laws that contradict the Constitution (again, theoretically). When they try, it is appropriate to call them on it through the means provided to us.

(As a side note, if you are quick to question and challenge your church authorities but not so quick to question and challenge your civil authorities, that should be a troubling revelation about yourself.)

Israel faced something of a Constitutional crisis, you might say, when Jesus rode into Jerusalem, was proclaimed king by the crowds, and then proceeded to take over the Temple. Can he do that? What right does he have to do that? Those are not improper questions. However, if you ask those questions, you had better be ready for answers that might not be so comfortable to accept.

The present leadership in Israel likes the way things are, and they don’t want to be challenged. They are the ones who will do the questioning, thank you very much. Jesus has upset their political applecart. But they can’t just lynch Jesus. They must put him on trial and find him guilty, putting him to death under the authority of the law.

But of what can they accuse him? In Luke 20.1-8 we find their first attempts to discover legal reasons, the authority, to accuse Jesus. They ask him by what authority he is doing these things (that is, all those actions he took at the temple). If they discover that he doesn’t have the proper authority, they can condemn him for not being properly authorized. He could be condemned as one who is impersonating a king and, thus, rebelling against proper authority.

As Jesus does throughout Luke 20, he turns the tables on his inquisitors here. Jesus will answer their question if they answer his. Jesus isn’t afraid to answer their question. Recently, he bravely stopped the center of the life of Jerusalem in the Temple. That was quite the public display; hardly the actions of someone who would be afraid of answering, “In what authority are you doing these things?”

No, Jesus is leading them somewhere without ever answering their question directly when he asks, “The baptism of John: was it from heaven or from men?” The only reason the officials seemed stumped is that no answer was expedient for their present power. They can’t say that his baptism was from heaven because they didn’t follow him. That would put them as rebels against heaven. They can’t say it was from men because they feared the people who believed John to be a prophet. The people would turn against them. So, they don’t answer the question. Neither will Jesus answer their question … at least not directly.

John was a priest and prophet in Israel. His father, Zechariah, was serving his priestly duty in the Temple when he learned about the promise of John’s conception and birth (Lk 1). Being in the priestly line of Israel makes John a priest. He is a servant in God’s house, authorized to baptize. Being a prophet also meant that John was authorized to anoint kings as Samuel and Elisha did before him. When John baptized Jesus, Jesus was lawfully being anointed as king of Israel. The Father and Spirit witnessed to this when the heavens tore open and the Father said, “This is my beloved Son in whom I am well pleased,” and the Spirit descended upon Jesus like a dove. John’s baptism was from heaven. Since it was from heaven, Jesus is their king. Since Jesus is their king, he has the authority to do what he is doing.

Jesus was baptized with a baptism from heaven. Were you? Who authorized your baptism? Does its authority rest in men or in God? Since our baptism is a baptism into Christ (Rom 6.1ff.) and in it we put on Christ (Gal 3.27), the baptism that Jesus receives is the baptism that we receive. We participate in his baptism. Our baptism is authorized by heaven. This means, at least, that our baptism means what God says it means and is not dependent upon our “authorization” through feeling or even what we think it means.

When we are baptized into the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, that baptism comes from heaven and says about us that we have authority; authority to be called “sons of God.” Being baptized means that we have been authorized by heaven to be God’s representatives in the world. When we speak, we speak for heaven. When we act, we act on behalf of heaven. All of our words and deeds are done as those who have been baptized. When the world comes to test us like they did Jesus, seeking to find fault with us, we must be careful to speak with the authority of heaven, saying what God would say about the matters. When our cultural leaders say, “How can you be so intolerant of this sexual lifestyle,” or “How can you be so narrow in your views to think that the Christian faith is the only way,” we must speak as those under authority and authorized to speak only what God has commissioned us to say. We condemn only what God condemns. We commend only what God commends. When we do so, we do so with the full weight of the authority of heaven. When we commend what God condemns or vice versa, we have stepped outside of what we have been authorized to say and are misrepresenting God himself. Let us then be careful in our words and deeds to reflect faithfully God’s own attitudes and actions.

On October 18, 2020 By Bill Smith In Counseling/Piety, Discipleship, Theology, Worship Like

The Temple of the Lord

From a distance, it must have been an awe-inspiring sight. There, sitting atop a mountain was a magnificent work of architectural art. Jutting up above the walls and drawing the eye to itself sat the Temple in Jerusalem. On a mountain peak outside the city looking in, one could see this marvelous structure, buzzing with human activity, and, if the wind was just right, one could smell the aromas of meat grilling on the altar. The beauty of the Temple told the onlookers and worshipers that this was the place where one came to meet the God of Israel and to be a part of his people. This is where one went to meet God and sit and have a communion meal with him, finding life.

During Jesus’ day, the Temple had become an architectural deception. Though everything about it screamed “LIFE,” it had become nothing more than an elaborate tomb, filled with rotting flesh and the stench of death. There was nothing there to satisfy the soul. This happened over the years of neglect and rebellion. Certainly, no one intended for it to turn out this way in the beginning. It probably started slowly and crept like a slow-moving cancer through the years until the time when Jesus came and gave the diagnosis and pronounced it dead (Lk 19.45-48).

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