The Ghost of Martin Luther

To most of us it's called Halloween. A few know it as All-Saints Day. But on October, 31st, 1517, an event happened which would change the course of history.

Castle Church in Wittenberg housed the massive relic collection of Fredrick the Wise, the elector of Saxony. Such relics included a cut of fabric from the swaddling cloth of baby Jesus, 13 pieces from his crib, a strand of straw from the manger, a piece of gold from a Wise Man, three pieces of myrrh, a morsel of bread from the Last Supper and a thorn from the crown Jesus wore when crucified just to name a few. And there was a lot riding on these relics. Veneration of these relics was said to be accompanied by indulgences reducing time in Purgatory by 1,902,202 years and 270 days. These indulgences were made possible, it was claimed, by the above-and-beyond obedience of the Saints.

And so it was, that on the day that honored these Saints and relics, one of Fredrick's subjects, an obscure monk named Martin Luther, hammered his 95 Theses to the door of the church. And the world would never be the same.

Luther's act sparked the Protestant Reformation, transformed Western civilization and, more importantly, brought Christians back to the defiantly simple message of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. The message that it is not by works or ceremony that we win the favor of God. The message that only through faith in Jesus could a man have access to the Father.

Contrast the befuddled and rigorous Roman soteriology with the Christ-directed boast of Luther: "So when the devil throws your sins in your face and declares that you deserve death and hell, tell him this: 'I admit that I deserve death and hell, what of it? For I know One who suffered and made satisfaction on my behalf. His name is Jesus Christ, Son of God, and where he is there I shall be also!'"

So, this Halloween take a moment and remember the simple Gospel that Martin Luther helped draw the Church back to. The message that we are saved by grace alone through faith alone in Christ alone.

Why Is God A "He"?

So, lately I've been thinking a lot about this particular issue. It's come up in several of the books I've had to read for school. But the tipping point was this video with Mark Driscoll and Doug Wilson*:



So, this does raise the question: Why is that - The Shack not withstanding - God is consistently referenced as male in the Scriptures? It's God the Father and God the Son. Likewise, male pronouns are always used to describe God the Spirit. For our family members who believe that gender is merely biological this makes absolutely no sense. After all, God is a spirit. He doesn't have an anatomical structure and therefore speaking of God in terms of male or female is ludicrous. Right? Well, apparently the Holy Spirit doesn't think so, because He inspired the holy men to portray God in male terms.

So, how do we explain this? Well, it becomes a lot easier when recognize that gender is a symbol for something greater. After all, God loves matter, as C.S. Lewis said, and He uses matter to convey truths about Himself.

Elisabeth Elliot, the wife of martyred missionary Jim Elliot and one of the greatest writers and speakers of her generation, does an excellent job of arguing this position in her classic The Mark of a Man:

"Psychologists sometimes describe belief in God as a father as nothing more than a projection of the sterotyped father. It never seems to occur to them that if two things are alike, one ought to ask whether the first is copied from the second or the second from the first. Why should it not be at least as logical to assume that human fathers are copies of the Original? Those who take the Bible as their rule see God as the archetype. From Him are derived all ideas of what fathers ought to be."

The argument goes that the genders are symbols of something much greater than biology. The functions of the genders actually reflects the nature of God. Within the Trinity there is equality, love, unity and other-centrality but there is also structure, order, submission and, yes, authority (I know, that's a naughty word in our culture but just bare with me). Therefore, this same dichotomy is mirrored in the relationships between the genders.

Those who hold to this view also recognize that consistently throughout Scripture - literally from Genesis to Revelation - men are given the responsibility of initiation. That brings us back to original question of why God is always portrayed as male.

C.S. Lewis said, "God is so masculine that all creation is feminine by comparison." What could he possibly mean by that? He meant that God is the Ultimate Initiator. He initiates our salvation, our sanctification - shoot! - He initiated our very existence. The fate of every human being is decided by how we respond the initiation of God. Therefore, we are all feminine (responders) in comparison to the Initiating God.

But I can almost hear people saying, "What a chauvinist! He actually thinks that men are like God!" No, no, no! Sure, lots of men think they're God, but God knows better. This isn't about men, this is about God. My goal in this post is not to spark a debate over gender roles. If I wanted to do that I would have started off with loads of bible passages and quotes from Greek experts. What I want to do is point you to marvelous design of God.

When men act like men and women act like women, we're actually displaying the very nature of God. It's a like a painting, showing the majesty of the Real Thing. Or a song that causes emotions to rise up unbidden. Or a monument which testifies to the greatness of an awesome God. Gender is a work of art, giving us hints at the beautiful character of the Artist. Praise His name!

I know that this has been a very quick summary of very deep and intense issue, but if you get nothing else out of this, pay attention to this: Gender isn't about biology. Like everything else, it's about God.

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*I always feel the need to say that just because I link to someone doesn't mean I necessarily endorse everything about that person.

The Heroes I Spend Sundays With

You want to know who my biggest heroes are? It's not some great preacher like Spurgeon or Moody. It's not a great writer like C.S. Lewis or J.R.R. Tolkien. It's not a great theologian like Jonathan Edwards or Martin Luther. Nor is it even a great missionary like William Carey or Hudson Taylor.

Rather, my heroes are...

-The ten year old girl who makes a point of saying "Good luck, Josh" before every time I preach.
-The woman sitting behind me who sings like she actually means what she's saying.
-The man sitting in front of me who often can't finish the hymns because the truthful words are too powerful.
-The newly saved man who (being unaware of all the "rules" we've associated with prayer) simply talks to his Daddy.
-The 80+ year old who has more energy than I do.
-All the people who know me so well but love me anyway.
-The "old folk" who are willing to hangout with the teens.
-The teens who don't act like teens.
-The young men who act like men.
-The young women who act like women.
-The young lady who always knows and cares about what's going on in my life.
-The "kindred spirits" that help me see myself honestly.
-Young people are not only willing but eager to discuss spiritual things.
-A pastor who loves the Word and love people.
-People courageous and loving enough to point out my faults.
-The older woman how knows everyone's name.
-The lady who embodies servanthood.
-The man who can always be counted on to do anything.
-The older men who make a point of passing on the torch.
-The people I spend Sundays with.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why we need the local church.

Where Were You?

Ten years ago today, a nine year old boy woke up anticipating a rather dull day of school and dentist visits. Intent on not letting the day be a total waste, he decided to get some fresh air and play around outside before the trip to the dentist and subsequent school day. To his disappointment, he found the weather to be cloudy and dreary. Still, he made the most of it playing with his favorite toy. A stick.

Then came the dreadful moment when his mother called him inside. He assumed that it was time for them to leave for the dentist and that his fun for the day had ended. He was actually a little relieved to discover that it was not time to leave but that his mom felt it was important for him to see something.

He looked at the TV and saw two buildings draped in smoke. He didn't understand. His mom had called him inside to watch an action movie? "Terrorists captured planes and flew them into two buildings in New York." His mother explained. A sinking feeling came over the boy, as if someone were dragging him into the floor.

For the rest of the day, the boy was glued to the TV set. He heard the news anchors speculate over who was responsible. He saw a picture of a man they called Osama bin Laden. He heard words like "Afghanistan" and "jihad" and "Islam" for the very first time. When he heard the news of the Pentagon being attacked he felt as though the world was spinning out of control. He wished that someone would pay for all this.

He still had to go to the dentist, but he spent every moment thinking about burning buildings in New York. By the time he got home, those buildings had collapsed. They never did get around to doing school.

He spent the rest of the day with his neighbor friends, trying to make sense of the whole thing. That night went to bed but he couldn't sleep. It was a while before he was able to sleep.

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So, where were you ten years ago?

Polls, Pawlenty, Perry and Prayer

Okay, so today I'm going to do something that I said I would never do on here. Ramble. I really don't want to write something just for the sake of writing something. If I'm going to take the time to write a blog post I want it to be because I actually have something do say...except for today.

You see, yesterday I went to the Ames Straw Poll. It was my first time to go and I had a fun talking with people, meeting candidates and getting to be very "political". Therefore, I have a bunch of random thoughts concerning the poll that I shall now subject you to. [insert evil laugh]

1. I personally the whole thing is over done. As far as I know, George W. Bush is the only one to ever win the Straw Poll and the nomination. Why? Because the only people who come to it are generally conservative, evangelical diehards. So does it matter? Well, yes and no. No, in that it's not a good indicator of how one will do in the caucus or general election. Yes, because if a conservative candidate can't do well in the Straw Poll with his/her own base, there's no way they will do well in the general election. Case-in-point: Pawlenty dropped out after finishing third.

2. Speaking of which, I'm a bit disappointed to see Pawlenty drop out. While he didn't get my vote, I'd prefer him to a lot of the other guys.

3. I really don't get the buzz about Michele Bauchmann. Sorry.

4. I'm glad to see Rick Santorum do better than expected. While I rather doubt he'll win, I appreciate that he's keeping some important issues from being overlooked.

5. Ron Paul can only win fake polls.

6. Thaddeus McCotter got 35 votes. Can you say, 'epic fail'? Plus, he looks like a James Bond villain.

7. Rick Perry's well positioned. As a write-in, he still finished with a solid sixth. I think the nomination will come down to him and Romney.

8. Every time I get into one of my 'political moods' I have a tendency to become a bit pessimistic. Then I remember that I serve the President of presidents. "The king’s heart is a stream of water in the hand of the LORD; he turns it wherever he will." (Proverbs 21:1 ESV) Please join me in praying that our Sovereign would put a God-fearing man in the Oval Office. But more than that, that He might use this election to draw our nation back to Himself.

My Heart's A Dirty Carpet

As most of you probably know, I currently work for a carpet cleaning company. Some of the carpets that I clean are pretty nasty. Last week I helped clean a particularly nasty carpet. When we walked into the room, the smell was almost overwhelming. Imagine a port-a-poddy exploding in a tobacco factory and that's a pretty good picture of the stench.

If that's not bad enough, the carpet itself was even more repugnant. I'm still not exactly sure what color the carpet was originally, but when we got there it was a lovely assortment of reds, greens, blues, blacks and browns. There were dozens of pieces of gum smeared into the fibers. The stains were so deep that our first attempt to clean (which usually blasts out pretty much anything) barely even touched it. Disgusting smelling red stains were splattered everywhere. And to top it all off, there was a fine collection of cigarette burns, random black spots and an unidentified greenish-brown substance (use your imagination).

About an hour into the job with little progress to show for, I was overcome with a touch of hopelessness. I knew that no matter how much sweat, toil and labor we invested into this carpet it was still going to look trashed out. The whole thing was beginning to gross me out (and, as a big brother to four, I don't get grossed out very easily). What's the point? I thought. Why work so hard and exhaustively for something so disgusting and revolting?

Then, the Holy Spirit hammered something into me. How must God look at my heart? Suddenly, sins began to come into my mind. Disgusting, repulse sins that no doubt offended and hurt my perfect God. Oh, how nasty I must seem to God!

Yet, how tirelessly He labors to clean and purify me, with all my repulsiveness. Sometimes, I can't help but wonder if God gets as frustrated with me as I did with that carpet. It seems that no matter how hard He labors to cleanse me of my filth, I still insist on rolling in the mud.

But I know that, unlike me, God does not grow weary of as He lovingly cleans my sin-stained heart. In love, He claims that disgusting carpet as His own and is transforming it into something worthy of His very presence.

Keep laboring, Great Cleanser!

Why My Father's A Paradox (And Why I Love It)

I’m the type of guy who likes to figure people out. I like knowing what motivates people to do what they do. But there’s one person I’ve never been able to put into any sort of box. It’s my father.

I’m told that when my parents were engaged, my mother made the comment that she just couldn’t figure Dad out. My grandpa, was present, said that they’d been trying unsuccessfully for nineteen years. And while I can’t quite figure him out, I’ve come to love, admire and respect the God-honoring paradoxy of my father.
Here’s a brief examination of that paradox:

Hands-on scholar: The same person who gave a huge stack of commentaries for my graduation barely reads at all. If I see my dad reading anything other than the Bible I know it must be a pretty amazing book.

In one sense, Dad’s not a scholar. He doesn’t like systematic theology, books by Doctor Reverend _____, PhD hold no interest to him and “much study is weariness” is his education motto. But he’s very much the theologian. While he would never use these terms, my father was the first to introduce me to soteriology, eschatology, anthropology and so on. For as long as I can remember, I’ve seen my dad start every morning with long, intense study in the Word. In short, he’s a Proverbs theologian. He likes things that are practical and real. No fancy hypotheticals or long winded speeches about stuff that’ll never help you in life.

What it’s taught me: As someone who does like systematic theology and books by Doctor Reverend ________, PhD, my dad has helped keep me balanced. He taught that it’s all about the Bible. He taught me to reverence, love and apply God’s Word in a way that really mattered.

Laidback perfectionist: My dad’s a very laidback person. He’s the type that’ll do things at the last minute and then even if things don’t go quite right he’s not one to get upset about. But, he’s certainly not some chair rocking ho-hum couch potato.

My father likes things to be done right. For him, right doesn’t necessarily mean by the book. Right means that it works and works well. He’s practical remember. As a kid, making something dad approvable was one of the biggest motivates for excellence. Yet, Dad’s not one get all bent out of shape if something isn’t perfect.

What it’s taught me: Unlike the first paradox, this is a trait I shall with my dad. Follow his footsteps in this area has taught to do the best with what I have; to strive for excellence without fretting about the results.

Romantic rationalist: There’s been very few times that I’ve seen my dad display a large amount of emotion. He’ll chuckle rather than roar with laughter; smile rather than giddily grin; frown rather than yell; tear-up rather than sob. Remember, I’ve already established that he’s laidback and practical.

Yet, he’s very passionate about certain things. He’s passionate about God and how awesome He is. He’s passionate about righteousness and justice. He’s passionate about seeing God exalted and the Bible lived out in every areas of life, from work to politics. He’s passionate about serving other and teaching people the Truth.

The only times I’ve ever seen my dad cry was when he was talking about the love of God. So, while he can be reserved and non-sentimental, my dad still gets excited about good and holy things. The result is a passionate devotion to godly thing without the weight of emotionalism and sentimentalism.

What it’s taught me: I’ve learned that there are things that should excite and thrill me. These like the Gospel and God’s character ought to initiate an emotional response. But this thrilling doesn’t have to be about feelings and emotionalism. Rather, these emotions are about a deep and devouring love for God.

In short, I love my father and I’m so very grateful that God gave me dad who loves Him and was devoted to teaching me from the Word. My prayer is that one day I will be such a father.

Happy Father’s Day!