As we all know, Christians' views on Halloween cover a wide spectrum, from the "no way; it's evil" variety to the "don't be goofy; let's go trick-or-treating" breed. Most of us probably fall somewhere in the middle.
I'm not about to post about this should-we/shouldn't-we debate. But for those of you who might be interested in thinking through it a little more, there's some good history and thoughts on Halloween posted online, courtesy of Grace to You. You can find it here: http://www.gty.org/Resources/Articles/1126. (Tim Challies also has some good thoughts on his blog: http://www.challies.com/.)
Anyway, the main reason I'm posting this is that one snippet from this GTY article caught my notice:
Christians should use Halloween and all that it brings to the imagination--death imagery, superstition, expressions of debauched revelry--as an opportunity to engage the unbelieving world with the gospel of Jesus Christ. God has given everyone a conscience that responds to His truth (Romans 2:14-16), and the conscience is the Christian's ally in the evangelistic enterprise. Christians should take time to inform the consciences of friends and family with biblical truth regarding God, the Bible, sin, Christ, future judgment, and the hope of eternal life in Jesus Christ for the repentant sinner.
What a great reminder! Halloween is a wonderful evangelism opportunity. Talk about fear, death, spirits, etc., are pretty easy to bring up this time of year, thanks to the holiday (and the ubiquitous slew of witches, black cats, and jack-o-lanterns adorning everything). And these provide awesome, very natural springboards for spiritual/gospel conversations. Just something to keep in mind.
10.24.2007
10.22.2007
Comic Relief
In a slight deviation from the norm, here's something very short and very un-serious (but very funny!). In Generations of Grace, the Sunday-school curriculum I'm editing at work (www.generationsofgrace.com), this review question came up for the children. (And may I add that I sincerely, sincerely hope that our Sunday-school kids are able to answer this correctly.)
God told Israel that the Canaanites would be __________.
a. thorns in their side
b. corn on the side
Gotta love it. (Yes, I exercised some editorial "authority" on this one.)
God told Israel that the Canaanites would be __________.
a. thorns in their side
b. corn on the side
Gotta love it. (Yes, I exercised some editorial "authority" on this one.)
10.12.2007
The Glory of Christ, Part 2
All right, time for a continuation of my thoughts from the first chapter of John Owen's book The Glory of Christ. Here we go:
Owen asks, What does beholding Christ actually accomplish in us? (This is really an amazing question, if you think about it.) He lists several things.
First: It makes us fit for heaven.
“All men, indeed, think themselves fit enough for glory...if they could attain it; but it is because they know not what it is” (51). Music brings no joy to a man who can’t hear. Beautiful colors mean nothing to someone who can’t see. The rays of the sun would bring no pleasure to a senseless fish pulled up from the cold bottom of the ocean. And so the glory of heaven—the glory of Christ seen face to face—would mean nothing to those without the ability to take pleasure in it. But God has given us a way whereby we can be made “receptive subjects of the glory to be communicated to [us]” (52). And that way is through beholding the glory of Christ through faith now. “All our present glory consists in our preparation for future glory” (52).
Second: It produces sanctification as we view Christ. This is the primary, if not the only means, of sanctification for the believer. Isn't that an incredible thought? The apostle Paul said that we’re transformed “from glory to glory” as we behold Christ: “But we all, with unveiled face, beholding as in a mirror the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from glory to glory, just as from the Lord, the Spirit” (2 Cor. 3:18).
Third: It brings us rest and contentment. By lifting our eyes from the cares, problems, and lusts of this world, to gaze on the glorious perfections of Christ, we lose our regard for these worthless things. I’m reminded of an old hymn:
Turn your eyes upon Jesus
Look full in His wonderful face
And the things of earth will grow strangely dim
In the light of His glory and grace.
Paul said something similar in Philippians: “I count all things to be loss in view of the surpassing value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whom I have suffered the loss of all things, and count them but rubbish so that I may gain Christ” (3:8).
Fourth: It brings us everlasting blessedness. “We shall ever be with the Lord” (1 Thess. 4:17). And “we will be like Him, because we will see Him just as He is” (1 John 3:2). No one can see God, who alone dwells in inapproachable light. The Father is invisible and incomprehensible. And yet we see Him perfectly revealed in the person of Christ. He is the manifestation of the glory of God—“the image of the invisible God” (Col. 1:15), “the radiance of His glory and the exact representation of His nature” (Heb. 1:3).
Honestly, these things are too high for us to grasp. It's exciting to think about. “We know not well what we say when we speak of them; yet there is in true believers a foresight and foretaste of this glorious condition” (53)—in the face of Christ!
This is seriously good stuff. I can't wait to keep reading this book!
Owen asks, What does beholding Christ actually accomplish in us? (This is really an amazing question, if you think about it.) He lists several things.
First: It makes us fit for heaven.
“All men, indeed, think themselves fit enough for glory...if they could attain it; but it is because they know not what it is” (51). Music brings no joy to a man who can’t hear. Beautiful colors mean nothing to someone who can’t see. The rays of the sun would bring no pleasure to a senseless fish pulled up from the cold bottom of the ocean. And so the glory of heaven—the glory of Christ seen face to face—would mean nothing to those without the ability to take pleasure in it. But God has given us a way whereby we can be made “receptive subjects of the glory to be communicated to [us]” (52). And that way is through beholding the glory of Christ through faith now. “All our present glory consists in our preparation for future glory” (52).
Second: It produces sanctification as we view Christ. This is the primary, if not the only means, of sanctification for the believer. Isn't that an incredible thought? The apostle Paul said that we’re transformed “from glory to glory” as we behold Christ: “But we all, with unveiled face, beholding as in a mirror the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from glory to glory, just as from the Lord, the Spirit” (2 Cor. 3:18).
Third: It brings us rest and contentment. By lifting our eyes from the cares, problems, and lusts of this world, to gaze on the glorious perfections of Christ, we lose our regard for these worthless things. I’m reminded of an old hymn:
Turn your eyes upon Jesus
Look full in His wonderful face
And the things of earth will grow strangely dim
In the light of His glory and grace.
Paul said something similar in Philippians: “I count all things to be loss in view of the surpassing value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whom I have suffered the loss of all things, and count them but rubbish so that I may gain Christ” (3:8).
Fourth: It brings us everlasting blessedness. “We shall ever be with the Lord” (1 Thess. 4:17). And “we will be like Him, because we will see Him just as He is” (1 John 3:2). No one can see God, who alone dwells in inapproachable light. The Father is invisible and incomprehensible. And yet we see Him perfectly revealed in the person of Christ. He is the manifestation of the glory of God—“the image of the invisible God” (Col. 1:15), “the radiance of His glory and the exact representation of His nature” (Heb. 1:3).
Honestly, these things are too high for us to grasp. It's exciting to think about. “We know not well what we say when we speak of them; yet there is in true believers a foresight and foretaste of this glorious condition” (53)—in the face of Christ!
This is seriously good stuff. I can't wait to keep reading this book!
10.11.2007
The Accountability Index
For two years now, I've been a member of Grace Community Church in Los Angeles. As a result, I've been blessed to sit under some of the most gifted expositors in this country (maybe in the world). It would be interesting to add up the number of five-star sermons I've heard--three every Sunday, one every Friday, plus the plethora I listen to through Internet streaming, on CD, and at conferences and special events.
Dan Philips at Pyromaniacs recently posted some challenging thoughts about hearing good sermons. You can read it here: http://teampyro.blogspot.com/2007/10/wasted-sermons-not-rant.html.
He notes, "The preaching of the word does not produce holiness and wisdom ex opere operato, as it were. That is, while the Word preached is powerful, it is not magical. The Word preached must fall on good soil."
He points out that hearing a good sermon doesn't magically make us holier, with no effort on our part. But it does do something: it changes our status before God--not in the salvific sense, but in an accountability sense. Greater privilege equals greater responsibility. In John 15:22 Jesus said, "If I had not come and spoken to them, they would not have been guilty of sin, but now they have no excuse for their sin."
So, listening to good sermons makes us more aware of what God's Word says, and thus more responsible in light of that knowledge. I think that keeping this in mind has to change how we view sermon-listening. It changes our attitude in listening to them, and also in thinking through and applying them--actively and intentionally, with an awareness of the responsibility to do so. Anyway, Dan gives some more good thoughts about this in his post. I definitely recommend reading it.
Dan Philips at Pyromaniacs recently posted some challenging thoughts about hearing good sermons. You can read it here: http://teampyro.blogspot.com/2007/10/wasted-sermons-not-rant.html.
He notes, "The preaching of the word does not produce holiness and wisdom ex opere operato, as it were. That is, while the Word preached is powerful, it is not magical. The Word preached must fall on good soil."
He points out that hearing a good sermon doesn't magically make us holier, with no effort on our part. But it does do something: it changes our status before God--not in the salvific sense, but in an accountability sense. Greater privilege equals greater responsibility. In John 15:22 Jesus said, "If I had not come and spoken to them, they would not have been guilty of sin, but now they have no excuse for their sin."
So, listening to good sermons makes us more aware of what God's Word says, and thus more responsible in light of that knowledge. I think that keeping this in mind has to change how we view sermon-listening. It changes our attitude in listening to them, and also in thinking through and applying them--actively and intentionally, with an awareness of the responsibility to do so. Anyway, Dan gives some more good thoughts about this in his post. I definitely recommend reading it.
10.09.2007
The Glory of Christ, Part 1
I just started reading John Owen’s book “The Glory of Christ”—partly because my pastor is doing a series on the person of Christ from Philippians 2:5-11. I’ve made it through the introductory pages and chapter one. It was so incredibly rich that I couldn’t resist doing a recap here. (Can anyone say “book report”? Ha.)
Part 1, Chapter 1 is entitled “Meditations and Discourses on the Glory of Christ: The Explanation of the Text.” A dazzling title, no? But don’t judge a book by its cover (um, a chapter by its title). This is heady stuff.
In John 17:24 Jesus prayed, “Father, I desire that they also, whom You have given Me, be with Me where I am, so that they may see My glory which You have given Me, for You loved Me before the foundation of the world” (emphasis mine).
Owen’s main idea, which he states with surprising perspicuity (you know why I say “surprising” if you’ve ever read Owen), is this: Christ’s desire for His church is that they behold His glory. Simple enough. His foundational point is this: that “one of the greatest privileges and advancements of believers, both in this world and unto eternity, consists in their beholding the glory of Christ” (45).
He begins by pointing out that unbelievers—all unbelievers—denigrate the glory of Christ, whether they do it by actively despising Him, or by simply conceiving “slight thoughts of Him” (46). Now, there will come a day when Christ will vindicate His own honor and glory in this world. But, "in the meantime, it is the duty of all those who 'love the Lord Jesus in sincerity' (Eph. 6:24) to give testimony in a peculiar manner to His divine person and glory, according to their several capacities" (46).
So to behold the glory of Christ is the special duty of believers. And, what’s more is that it is also our greatest privilege and joy. “On this our present comforts and future blessedness depend. This is the life and reward of our souls” (46).
There are two ways, Owen says, in which believers behold the glory of Christ: (1) “by faith, in this world” and (2) “by sight, or immediate vision, in eternity” (47).
[A side note: He does say that in the verse he’s using (John 17:24), Jesus is primarily referring to the second of these two (seeing His glory in heaven). This is pretty clear from the context, since Jesus is talking about His followers being with Him where He is. But Owen also points out that Jesus did not “exclude from His desire that sight of His glory which we have by faith in this world, but pray[ed] for the perfection of it in heaven” (47)—the idea being that what we now “see in a mirror dimly” we will there see “face to face” (1 Cor. 13:12).]
Owen launches into a powerful discussion at this point. He makes it clear that viewing Christ’s glory “by sight” in eternity must be preceded by viewing it here “by faith.” “No man,” he says, “shall ever behold the glory of Christ by sight hereafter who does not in some measure behold it here by faith” (47). He adds: “Grace is a necessary preparation for glory, and faith for sight.”
The reason for this necessity for faith before sight, at least in part, is that beholding the glory of Christ “face to face” is a thing that we simply aren’t capable of now, in our present state. We don’t have the spiritual faculty for it, just as we don’t have the physical faculty to stare directly at the sun. We can’t see it; it darkens our sight immediately. It is the same spiritually. So, “only by a view of the glory of Christ by faith here may we attain such blessed conceptions of our beholding His glory above by immediate vision that our hearts shall be drawn to admire it and desire its full enjoyment” (50).
Here’s a question: Do we truly desire to behold the glory of Christ in eternity?
"Most men will say with confidence, living and dying, that they desire to be with Christ and to behold His glory; but they can give no reason why they should desire any such thing....If man pretends to be enamored of, or to greatly desire, what he never saw nor was ever represented to him, he but dotes on his own imaginations. The pretended desires of many to behold the glory of Christ in heaven, who have no view of it by faith while they are here in this world, are nothing but self-deceiving imaginations" (48).
He concludes: “It is not to our edification to discourse on beholding the glory of Christ in heaven by vision until we go through a trial whether we see anything of it in this world by faith or not” (49). If we are to behold Christ’s glory for eternity, we must behold it now.
And, on that note, I think I'll stop. This is becoming an incredibly long post...so I’ll make it another two-part series and will post the rest in the next day or two!
10.08.2007
A New Look at an Old Story
Recently at Bible study we discussed personal testimonies—their purpose, what they should include, etc. I can’t tell you how I needed this!
I cringe a little when I realize that because my testimony most often is told to believers, I’ve gotten used to presenting it in a way that’s very matter-of-fact, Christian vocabulary-laden, and...well...just sort of dry—more of a soteriology lecture than a personal narrative.
Why in the world would I ever tell it that way, whether to an unbeliever or a believer? My life has been radically changed. And so I thought I'd tell the story here—maybe it will be interesting and/or encouraging for those of you who haven’t heard it before.
I’ll start at the beginning: I was born into a Christian family and grew up in the “church culture.” From as early as I can remember, my worldview was decidedly Christian; I accepted what the Bible said as true, and it was the lens through which I naturally viewed all of life.
When I was six years old, I attended a Vacation Bible School and was told things I’d heard numerous times: that God is the Creator; that I was his creation, made in His image and accountable to Him; that my sin had separated me from God, who is perfectly holy; that because God is holy and just, He must punish sin—and that the penalty for sin is eternal separation from Him in hell; that God, out of His great love, chose to send His Son to take the punishment that I deserved; that Jesus died, was buried, and rose again, showing His power over sin and death; and that I had to turn away from my sin and trust solely in Jesus and His merciful work in order to be made right with God.
I was young, but I followed this logic and believed it was the truth. So my teacher led me to pray, telling God that I understood these things and asking Him to forgive my sins through Christ and make me right with Him. I did.
I was excited to be “saved,” but not much in my life seemed different then, or over the next few years. My worldview was the same, and my outward actions were the same. I still believed the same things, and I still lived a “Christian” life, reading the Bible and trying to follow its standards, praying, attending church, etc.
During my early teenage years, I started to question whether I really was a Christian. I was aware of the danger of merely piggybacking on my parents’ faith, and I knew it wasn’t acceptable—to God, or to me. But was I piggybacking? No. I didn’t think so. The Bible’s truths rang as true to me as ever. I still believed fully that the Bible was the Word of God and the source of truth—the truth.
But was I really right with God? I loved Him, believed His Word, and had a growing desire to live in a way that pleased Him. But I wondered...what if I had prayed my childhood prayer naively? Six years old is very young. Looking back, I wasn’t sure whether I had been sincere or had really understood. I did believe the Bible, and I loved God and was counting on His Son’s sacrifice to pay for my sins. And yet, because I couldn’t with certainty name the time/place when I first believed, I was afraid that I might be deceiving myself. I don’t think my parents or friends had any idea of my internal struggle, but I spent a lot of time in uncertainty and fear.
But during that time I began to study the Bible intently. And the more I read, the more I understood.
Something that I hadn’t grasped very well before was that being a follower of Christ isn’t so much about being able to name a point in time when you prayed a fervent prayer. Following Christ is about a life exchange—trading your old sinful life for a new life in Christ. It means turning away from sin and to Jesus, throwing your entire life on His mercy and grace because you realize that there’s no other source of salvation. It’s realizing that you can’t be counted righteous before God unless His righteousness is counted on your behalf.
The Bible makes this superabundantly clear...and discovering it brought so much comfort and joy to my heart.
Of course, God does His saving work in a person’s heart at one specific moment in time. And for many people, this is marked by a very memorable occasion, usually involving a prayer. But a prayer is not the proof of salvation. A changed life is.
Did God save me when I was six years old? Or did He change my heart sometime during those teenage years? I honestly don’t know. But I have no doubt that there was a point when He did save me from my sin. I know this because I see that my life is completely His; He’s taken hold of my heart and changed it completely. The ability to follow Christ, to love Him, to hunger for and understand His Word, to be convicted of my sin, to desire to please Him, and to be gradually be made like Him—those are all things that I could never do on my own. They’re gifts from God.
Jesus once told the Pharisee Nicodemus, “The wind blows where it wishes and you hear the sound of it, but do not know where it comes from and where it is going; so is everyone who is born of the Spirit” (John 3:6–8).
The point is that salvation is God’s work. No attitude or action on my part could have rescued me from my sin. Only God could. The apostle Paul said it this way: “It [salvation] does not depend on the man who wills or the man who runs, but on God who has mercy” (Romans 9:16). My salvation didn’t hinge on a prayer I prayed, but on God’s mercy and His power to change my sinful heart. And He did.
I’ve been able to share this story several times now, since we talked about it at Bible study...and I hope to be able to share it many, many times. It is a good one! How wonderful to dwell on the things that God has done through the power of His gospel.
I’m reminded of the words of an old hymn we used to sing when I was that little six-year-old in church on Sundays:
I love to tell the story of unseen things above,
Of Jesus and His glory, of Jesus and His love.
I love to tell the story, because I know ’tis true;
It satisfies my longings as nothing else can do.
I love to tell the story; more wonderful it seems
Than all the golden fancies of all our golden dreams.
I love to tell the story, it did so much for me;
And that is just the reason I tell it now to thee.
I love to tell the story; ’tis pleasant to repeat
What seems, each time I tell it, more wonderfully sweet.
I love to tell the story, for some have never heard
The message of salvation from God’s own holy Word.
I love to tell the story, for those who know it best
Seem hungering and thirsting to hear it like the rest.
And when, in scenes of glory, I sing the new, new song,
’Twill be the old, old story that I have loved so long.
I cringe a little when I realize that because my testimony most often is told to believers, I’ve gotten used to presenting it in a way that’s very matter-of-fact, Christian vocabulary-laden, and...well...just sort of dry—more of a soteriology lecture than a personal narrative.
Why in the world would I ever tell it that way, whether to an unbeliever or a believer? My life has been radically changed. And so I thought I'd tell the story here—maybe it will be interesting and/or encouraging for those of you who haven’t heard it before.
I’ll start at the beginning: I was born into a Christian family and grew up in the “church culture.” From as early as I can remember, my worldview was decidedly Christian; I accepted what the Bible said as true, and it was the lens through which I naturally viewed all of life.
When I was six years old, I attended a Vacation Bible School and was told things I’d heard numerous times: that God is the Creator; that I was his creation, made in His image and accountable to Him; that my sin had separated me from God, who is perfectly holy; that because God is holy and just, He must punish sin—and that the penalty for sin is eternal separation from Him in hell; that God, out of His great love, chose to send His Son to take the punishment that I deserved; that Jesus died, was buried, and rose again, showing His power over sin and death; and that I had to turn away from my sin and trust solely in Jesus and His merciful work in order to be made right with God.
I was young, but I followed this logic and believed it was the truth. So my teacher led me to pray, telling God that I understood these things and asking Him to forgive my sins through Christ and make me right with Him. I did.
I was excited to be “saved,” but not much in my life seemed different then, or over the next few years. My worldview was the same, and my outward actions were the same. I still believed the same things, and I still lived a “Christian” life, reading the Bible and trying to follow its standards, praying, attending church, etc.
During my early teenage years, I started to question whether I really was a Christian. I was aware of the danger of merely piggybacking on my parents’ faith, and I knew it wasn’t acceptable—to God, or to me. But was I piggybacking? No. I didn’t think so. The Bible’s truths rang as true to me as ever. I still believed fully that the Bible was the Word of God and the source of truth—the truth.
But was I really right with God? I loved Him, believed His Word, and had a growing desire to live in a way that pleased Him. But I wondered...what if I had prayed my childhood prayer naively? Six years old is very young. Looking back, I wasn’t sure whether I had been sincere or had really understood. I did believe the Bible, and I loved God and was counting on His Son’s sacrifice to pay for my sins. And yet, because I couldn’t with certainty name the time/place when I first believed, I was afraid that I might be deceiving myself. I don’t think my parents or friends had any idea of my internal struggle, but I spent a lot of time in uncertainty and fear.
But during that time I began to study the Bible intently. And the more I read, the more I understood.
Something that I hadn’t grasped very well before was that being a follower of Christ isn’t so much about being able to name a point in time when you prayed a fervent prayer. Following Christ is about a life exchange—trading your old sinful life for a new life in Christ. It means turning away from sin and to Jesus, throwing your entire life on His mercy and grace because you realize that there’s no other source of salvation. It’s realizing that you can’t be counted righteous before God unless His righteousness is counted on your behalf.
The Bible makes this superabundantly clear...and discovering it brought so much comfort and joy to my heart.
Of course, God does His saving work in a person’s heart at one specific moment in time. And for many people, this is marked by a very memorable occasion, usually involving a prayer. But a prayer is not the proof of salvation. A changed life is.
Did God save me when I was six years old? Or did He change my heart sometime during those teenage years? I honestly don’t know. But I have no doubt that there was a point when He did save me from my sin. I know this because I see that my life is completely His; He’s taken hold of my heart and changed it completely. The ability to follow Christ, to love Him, to hunger for and understand His Word, to be convicted of my sin, to desire to please Him, and to be gradually be made like Him—those are all things that I could never do on my own. They’re gifts from God.
Jesus once told the Pharisee Nicodemus, “The wind blows where it wishes and you hear the sound of it, but do not know where it comes from and where it is going; so is everyone who is born of the Spirit” (John 3:6–8).
The point is that salvation is God’s work. No attitude or action on my part could have rescued me from my sin. Only God could. The apostle Paul said it this way: “It [salvation] does not depend on the man who wills or the man who runs, but on God who has mercy” (Romans 9:16). My salvation didn’t hinge on a prayer I prayed, but on God’s mercy and His power to change my sinful heart. And He did.
I’ve been able to share this story several times now, since we talked about it at Bible study...and I hope to be able to share it many, many times. It is a good one! How wonderful to dwell on the things that God has done through the power of His gospel.
I’m reminded of the words of an old hymn we used to sing when I was that little six-year-old in church on Sundays:
I love to tell the story of unseen things above,
Of Jesus and His glory, of Jesus and His love.
I love to tell the story, because I know ’tis true;
It satisfies my longings as nothing else can do.
I love to tell the story; more wonderful it seems
Than all the golden fancies of all our golden dreams.
I love to tell the story, it did so much for me;
And that is just the reason I tell it now to thee.
I love to tell the story; ’tis pleasant to repeat
What seems, each time I tell it, more wonderfully sweet.
I love to tell the story, for some have never heard
The message of salvation from God’s own holy Word.
I love to tell the story, for those who know it best
Seem hungering and thirsting to hear it like the rest.
And when, in scenes of glory, I sing the new, new song,
’Twill be the old, old story that I have loved so long.
10.01.2007
Politics, Poetry, and Powerful Grace
I've been reading William Wilberforce's A Practical View of Christianity--a book I already highly recommend, despite the fact that I'm only in the fourth chapter. Wilberforce was a politician in the British Parliament in the late-eighteenth/early-nineteenth century and is known for his indefatigueable campaign against the slave trade. (If you've seen the movie "Amazing Grace" that came out recently, you know his story.) He's also known for being a strong believer. His book is a wake-up call to nominal Christians, a sort of revival call and explanation of significant biblical doctrines. Anyway, like I said, I'm only on the fourth chapter, but it's been phenomenal thus far.
Something that stood out to me was Wilberforce's treatment and explanation of the doctrine of man's depravity. Here's an excerpt from the book:
Left to the consequences of our own folly, the understanding has grown darker, and the heart more obdurate: reason has at length altogether betrayed her trust, and even conscience herself has aided the delusion, till, instead of deploring our miserable slavery, we have too often hugged, and even gloried in our chains....None are altogether free; all without exception, in a greater or less degree, bear about them, more visible or more concealed, the ignominious marks of their captivity.
When I read this, I immediately thought of a poem by John Donne, also an Englishman, though he lived in the late-sixteenth/early-seventeenth century and was a poet, not a politician. (Note the bold section; it's rich with the flavor of Wilberforce's statement: "Reason has at length altogether betrayed her trust, and even consience herself has aided the delusion.")
Here's the text of Donne's poem (typed from memory; forgive any errors!):
Batter my heart, three-Person'd God, for You
As yet but knock, breathe, shine, and seek to mend.
That I may rise and stand, o'erthrow me, and bend
Thy force to break, blow, burn, and make me new.
I, like a usurped town to another due,
Labor to admit You, but--oh--to no end.
Reason, your viceroy in me, me should defend
But is captiv'd and proves weak or untrue.
Yet dearly I'll love you and would be lov'd fain,
But am betrothed unto your enemy.
Divorce me--untie, or break that knot again;
Take me to you, imprison me, for I,
Unless you enslave me, never shall be free,
Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me.
This poem is one of my favorites. It shows, in beautifully graphic language, the doctrines of divine sovereignty and human inability--the fact that man is desparately enslaved by sin, with no hope for salvation unless God acts to save.
Donne uses imperative language throughout the poem, showing his desperation; he's not demanding God, but he is pleading God to take over his heart, since he knows that he isn't capable of giving it. Gentle wooing ("knock, breathe, shine...seek to mend") is not enough to overcome the dark bondage of sin; God will have to completely and forcefully overtake/overthrow the heart. Donne uses violent language to describe this--"batter...o'erthrow...bend thy force...break, blow, burn...imprison...enslave...ravish."
He metaphorically speaks of the soul as a town that is under unrightful foreign rule and is unable to let God in. He also notes that reason (the intellect), God's viceroy (agent) in man should be able to defend him but is unable, being captive itself. The mind is enslaved by sin.
Donne gives various paradoxes. That he "may rise and stand," he begs God to "o'erthrow" (overthrow) him. Also, he says that unless God "ravishes" his heart, it can never be "chaste." "Ravish" means to seize or carry away violently, and it's often used particularly of a woman who is taken and violated against her will. Yet Donne notes that unless the heart is "ravished" by God, it can never be "chaste" (pure). Also paradoxical is the fact that unless it is imprisoned by God, the heart can never be free.
Both the politician and the poet had it right, though they were very different men using very different means of communication. Man is a slave to sin, unable to save himself.
Ephesians 2:1: "And you were dead in your trespasses and sins."
Ephesians 4:18: "...being darkened in their understanding, excluded from the life of God because of the ignorance that is in them, because of the hardness of their heart."
Romans 8:7: "The mind set on the flesh is hostile toward God; for it does not subject itself to the law of God, for it is not even able to do so."
Praise God for His great grace--His powerful, sovereign, overthrowing, irresistible, saving grace. I was thankful for this reminder.
Something that stood out to me was Wilberforce's treatment and explanation of the doctrine of man's depravity. Here's an excerpt from the book:
Left to the consequences of our own folly, the understanding has grown darker, and the heart more obdurate: reason has at length altogether betrayed her trust, and even conscience herself has aided the delusion, till, instead of deploring our miserable slavery, we have too often hugged, and even gloried in our chains....None are altogether free; all without exception, in a greater or less degree, bear about them, more visible or more concealed, the ignominious marks of their captivity.
When I read this, I immediately thought of a poem by John Donne, also an Englishman, though he lived in the late-sixteenth/early-seventeenth century and was a poet, not a politician. (Note the bold section; it's rich with the flavor of Wilberforce's statement: "Reason has at length altogether betrayed her trust, and even consience herself has aided the delusion.")
Here's the text of Donne's poem (typed from memory; forgive any errors!):
Batter my heart, three-Person'd God, for You
As yet but knock, breathe, shine, and seek to mend.
That I may rise and stand, o'erthrow me, and bend
Thy force to break, blow, burn, and make me new.
I, like a usurped town to another due,
Labor to admit You, but--oh--to no end.
Reason, your viceroy in me, me should defend
But is captiv'd and proves weak or untrue.
Yet dearly I'll love you and would be lov'd fain,
But am betrothed unto your enemy.
Divorce me--untie, or break that knot again;
Take me to you, imprison me, for I,
Unless you enslave me, never shall be free,
Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me.
This poem is one of my favorites. It shows, in beautifully graphic language, the doctrines of divine sovereignty and human inability--the fact that man is desparately enslaved by sin, with no hope for salvation unless God acts to save.
Donne uses imperative language throughout the poem, showing his desperation; he's not demanding God, but he is pleading God to take over his heart, since he knows that he isn't capable of giving it. Gentle wooing ("knock, breathe, shine...seek to mend") is not enough to overcome the dark bondage of sin; God will have to completely and forcefully overtake/overthrow the heart. Donne uses violent language to describe this--"batter...o'erthrow...bend thy force...break, blow, burn...imprison...enslave...ravish."
He metaphorically speaks of the soul as a town that is under unrightful foreign rule and is unable to let God in. He also notes that reason (the intellect), God's viceroy (agent) in man should be able to defend him but is unable, being captive itself. The mind is enslaved by sin.
Donne gives various paradoxes. That he "may rise and stand," he begs God to "o'erthrow" (overthrow) him. Also, he says that unless God "ravishes" his heart, it can never be "chaste." "Ravish" means to seize or carry away violently, and it's often used particularly of a woman who is taken and violated against her will. Yet Donne notes that unless the heart is "ravished" by God, it can never be "chaste" (pure). Also paradoxical is the fact that unless it is imprisoned by God, the heart can never be free.
Both the politician and the poet had it right, though they were very different men using very different means of communication. Man is a slave to sin, unable to save himself.
Ephesians 2:1: "And you were dead in your trespasses and sins."
Ephesians 4:18: "...being darkened in their understanding, excluded from the life of God because of the ignorance that is in them, because of the hardness of their heart."
Romans 8:7: "The mind set on the flesh is hostile toward God; for it does not subject itself to the law of God, for it is not even able to do so."
Praise God for His great grace--His powerful, sovereign, overthrowing, irresistible, saving grace. I was thankful for this reminder.
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