New Thoughts (03/15/11-03/24/11)
As ever, there is a great deal to consider in this parable. I have attempted to order my thoughts somewhat before proceeding, but there is no guarantee that the order is right or that it will persist to the end of these notes. However, I would begin with the most technical of those things I find cause to note. That is the question of variation. In the more general scope of the coverage given to this final week in Jerusalem, one sees already that the four Evangelists accent different points, organize the events differently, and in some cases, vary the passage of time more generally. One might well forgive them for any haziness of memory, for it is certainly an affliction common enough to man. They were not there with court stenographer in tow, recording events in detail as they occurred. They are writing of these events from some remove, and the effects of memory are to be expected in the results, even granting that the Holy Spirit directed their efforts and, as it were, pre approved their words. He did not, after all, simply dictate to them, else there would have been little to no need to have four accounts. One would have sufficed, perhaps two to satisfy the witness requirement.
Be that as it may, the variation in the telling of this parable across the three witnesses we have is rather more extreme than usual. Why is that?
I have read it argued that this is evidence of accretion, as church doctrine and history colored the retelling of the parables over time. One could think of it as repurposing. Whereas Jesus had been addressing the events of His moment, the church found in His parables some good material for addressing the events of their own. If that required a slight reworking of His material, these holy men are supposed to have felt they were sufficiently Spirit-led to manage that reworking. I can certainly see how such a thing could be, given the ways of man. It could be argued that I do much the same in the course of these studies, given my propensity for paraphrasing rather than quoting precisely. It could also be argued that the Scriptural record gives us a sort of imprimatur for such usage, given that the ways Scripture quotes itself is often not in a verbatim fashion.
Is this, though, the correct way to understand the variation? Does it in any way denigrate the inspired nature of the text to suppose that this has happened? Does it somehow lessen God’s involvement to learn that His people have, at least through these early years, adapted His Holy Word to their mundane situations? My gut reaction to this is to say yes. Yes it does denigrate and lessen. If that is the case, then the question demands a bit more attention. If this is not simply evidence of accretion, if it is a more purposeful, intentional act of God, how ought we to understand it?
Perhaps we ought to consider the variations in their order. The first is found in the introduction. Here, both Matthew and Mark provide a good deal of detail as to the structure of the vineyard, whereas Luke is satisfied to indicate that there was one involved. Here, the explanation seems pretty straight forward. Matthew’s account is aimed primarily at the Jewish audience, and Mark’s is generally thought to derive from Peter’s preaching, which would likewise share a certain Jewish flavor to it. In both cases, then, we can reasonably assume that the imagery of Isaiah 5 has a particular resonance for them, which it would not have had for Luke, with His Greek background. Given the nature of Jesus’ parable, it is further reasonable to believe that He intentionally drew on that Isaiah imagery.
Matthew would certainly want to emphasize this, as he has a clear interest in presenting the Gospel as a continuity of the ancient religion. The detailed introduction would also be something we might expect Peter to remember. I would suppose that he found cause to really pour over the Scriptures or Torah as he developed in his ministry as Apostle to the Jews. Even if the connection had not immediately been recognized by him at the time, can you just see the lights going on as he reads from Isaiah and the memories return?
By way of contrast, Luke is not native to the culture, and is relying in large part on testimony gathered long after the event. The details of the vineyard construction, while they relay this very important connection to Isaiah, would not necessarily stick in the mind of the average listener. That the parable involved a rented vineyard, yes. That piece will surely remain in memory, but the details of the picture being painted? Perhaps not.
Before proceeding to the next variation in the texts, it would be well to consider that Isaiah passage I have been referring to. Several excerpts from that passage come up in parallel to the parable, and reading them leaves no doubt as to why. In fact, in something of a departure for me, I think I shall just quote the text as is from the NASB.
Isaiah 5:1-7
Let me sing now for my well-beloved
A song of my beloved concerning His vineyard.
My well-beloved had a vineyard on a fertile hill.
And He dug it all around, removed its stones,
And planted it with the choicest vine.
And He built a tower in the middle of it,
And hewed out a wine vat in it;
Then He expected it to produce good grapes,
But it produced only worthless ones.
“And now, O inhabitants of Jerusalem and men of Judah,
Judge between Me and My vineyard.
What more was there to do for My vineyard that I have not done in it?
Why, when I expected it to produce good grapes did it produce worthless ones?
So now let Me tell you what I am going to do to My vineyard:
I will remove its hedge and it will be consumed;
I will break down its wall and it will become trampled ground.
And I will lay it waste; It will not be pruned or hoed,
But briars and thorns will come up.
I will also charge the clouds to rain no rain on it.”
For the vineyard of the Lord of hosts is the house of Israel,
And the men of Judah His delightful plant.
Thus He looked for justice, but behold, bloodshed;
For righteousness, but behold, a cry of distress.
Notice how the opening of the parable alludes to the opening of Isaiah’s prophetic poem. Notice, also, how the point of Isaiah’s message is heard in the conclusion Jesus draws from His parable. In this, I don’t so much look to the point made in Matthew 21:43, but that which Jesus draws attention to with the mention of the cornerstone, for the point He makes there is one of destruction and ruin. Indeed, if we follow Matthew’s coverage, the priests themselves seem likely to have made the Isaiah connection, as they provide the clear answer to the parable’s question: “He will destroy those evil vine-growers most awfully.” It seems from Luke’s account that the people didn’t fail to make the connection, either. Israelites in general were very comfortable with the imagery of their nation as God’s vineyard. To hear, then, of the vine-growers being destroyed, and the vineyard given to another was to hear an announcement of the end of Israel as a nation, and this by God’s own choosing. Granted that it could only be by God’s own choosing, but the shock of it is felt no less keenly for that understanding. But now I am getting well ahead of myself.
The next great variation is in relaying the sequence of activities that precede the owner sending his son. Matthew presents us with groups of slaves sent in increasing numbers, and these are each treated more or less the same. The various treatments are meted out upon this one or that one from each group. In Mark’s account, the slaves are sent singly, and their treatment grows worse with each sending. But there is the added clause after this crescendo of mistreatment that many others were sent, and these were treated variously, rather as Matthew relates the treatment of the several. Luke largely follows that crescendo order in the telling that Mark provides, but leaves off the addendum.
As I know I have read elsewhere in regard to these variations, the telling in Luke follows what would seem to be the natural flow of such a tale, and the most clearly applied. Here is depicted plainly how the sin of those involved increased with each event, and sin was shown more sinful. That added bit in Mark’s account seems rather anti-climactic, an interruption in the natural flow of the parable. Yet, I wonder if that isn’t clearer evidence that the author is here remembering how the thing was originally told. If, again, this is a reflection of Peter’s delivery of the message, it would seem reasonable to find such a thing. Peter, the impetuous one, the fisherman become preacher; he was changed, to be sure, but he was still Peter. Would not a fisherman have an ear for the telling of tales? It would seem most natural to a natural story teller to rearrange the thing a bit to get that crescendo effect. And it would not be surprising for one so impetuous to draw up in the midst of that telling to realize that he had more or less overshot, so that he had to insert that extra clause. There were, after all, more than three slaves, more than three prophets. Perhaps the thought entered his head to stress that there were likewise more than three Apostles. That authority went beyond the three elders of the church in Jerusalem.
What, then, should be made of Matthew’s telling? It could very well be that his is the most accurate. For my own part, I would say that it seems a somewhat clumsier telling as he relays it. It doesn’t have that natural flow that seems to characterize Jesus’ parables. On the other hand, it may well be that to Jesus, the detail of the slaves was just that – a detail. It was not important to the point. It was provided more as a key to the image, an additional charge to make clear who was being targeted here. If this were the case, it was sufficient to make note of them, as it were, in passing. The record is sufficiently established. Myriad opportunities have been provided for these men to get right with the owner, and instead they have consistently chosen rebellion and worse. The purpose of the slaves, then, is to draw attention to the son. And that is a sentence worthy of chewing on.
Let me, then, sum up my sense of the variations. Fundamentally, they do nothing to alter the point made by the parable. They do not somehow shift the emphasis, change the application. Given that, I am inclined to take the variations as interesting but not terribly important in themselves. They may well reflect something of the nature of the men commissioned by God to relay the Gospel to us. They may well reflect on the nature of memory. They do not, however, in any way lessen the truthfulness of the Scriptures, nor do they come as some sort of evidence to be laid against the idea that Scripture is God-breathed. If anything, it shows us a wonderful aspect of the nature of this God Who breathed the Word through the Evangelists. In that we see their individual character shining through the records they have written, we see that God is not aiming to achieve some robotic sort of conformance in us, but to provide the artistic touch to the raw material of our being. That’s a rather terrible attempt at sounding profound, but I know what I am getting at. Hopefully, should anybody be reading this, they will as well.
Before I move on, I do want to revisit that thought which closed out the paragraph preceding the last. The purpose of the slaves is to draw attention to the son. That is certainly true of this parable. As the listener recognizes what the various symbols represent, the understanding of the slaves as being the prophets forces one to arrive at certain conclusions as to who the son is. This in turn forces the listener to recognize that this son, this representative of Messiah, is indeed intended to convey the real relationship of Messiah to Father God.
This is a key point to the imagery of the parable. The stress is not so much on the images themselves as it is to their relationships one to another. Between landowner and vineyard, the relationship is demonstrated in provision and rule. That vineyard is the owner’s to do as he pleases, and he has done quite well by it. In this we have a picture of the relationship between God and His people in general. It is He who guards, He who plants, and He who sees to assigning certain others to tend. It is also He who rightfully expects return on His efforts.
Between landowner and slave, the relationship is plainly clear to all. The landowner, as master to the slave, has absolute say over the dispositions doings of his slaves. So it is with the prophet. The prophet can do only what the master instructs, and what the master instructs, he must do. He is stripped of volition in the matter. Whether his instructions lead him into pleasant ways or into his own destruction matters little. As God, his Master, directs, so he goes. And, in the case of the prophets, as with the slaves seen in this parable, so loyal are they that even in the face of such obvious threats to life and limb they obey. In so often noting the cost of their loyalty, Jesus honors the prophets greatly.
Next, we have the relationship between landowner and son. The symbolism is very clear now, having already established the previous relationships. And, particularly in Marks accounting, we are granted to know that this is far more than any simple matter of ancestry. This son is a beloved son, particularly favored. He is also a true son, as the word huios will tend to indicate. He is like his father, and holds the particular affections and esteem of his father. So, as the listener is following along, he is expected to recognize the escalation from prophet to Messiah in this series of efforts. But, he is also expected to recognize the escalation in relationship. In this, he is expected to recognize that the relationships depicted in the parable are reflective of the real relationships between those represented in the parable.
Come to the remaining relationship: that of landowner and vine-growers. Two things ought to be recognized here: First, these vine-growers have no real relationship with any of these others. They are but renters. They have no personal stake in the land. They have no connection of any sort with the slaves, and they really don’t much care about father and son either. They are wholly self-serving. To the degree that there is any relationship whatsoever, it is contractual. They have contracted with the father and have a legal obligation to pay him his due, but this they refuse. Now, the only group which has not been clearly identified by one of the parable’s images already is that group which was composed of the chief priests and the Sadducees. Note the message delivered: You don’t own it, you’re only renting. There is a second piece to it, of course, which ties back to that passage from Isaiah. You ought to be producing fruit amongst the vines which are My people, but there is nothing showing. These vine-growers have proven about as devoid of value as that fig tree Jesus cursed a few days back.
It might be well to ask where we ourselves are in this picture. As the people of God, we are of course the vines. But, given the call of the Gospel, it would seem to me we are also intended to find ourselves in the image of the slaves. We are called into a lifestyle in which God leads in all things. We are granted the indwelling Holy Spirit as counsel and guide. It is for this cause that the phrase as to the slaves’ purpose so captures my thought. The purpose of the slaves is to draw attention to the son. This is our story. If, in any way, we are serving, whether that be by way of evangelizing or whether that be by way of ministering within the church, this is to be our guiding principle: We are here to draw attention to the Son.
I wonder, sometimes, if I meet that goal in these studies, in putting them on the web. Am I drawing attention to the Son? What about when I teach? Am I drawing attention to the Son, or am I promoting myself? I would suppose that every minister must face this question repeatedly. Pride, after all, is a particularly persistent and deceptive foe.
Yet, I find I really want to dwell on this. The slaves’ purpose, my purpose, is to draw attention to Jesus, the Son, the Christ of God. Ought I really to restrict this to those times when I am actively and intentionally serving? Ought there even to be such limited times? It seems the last few times I have taught, part of the message of the lesson has been that we are always ministering by our actions and example, whether intentionally or not. How much better if we were at least intentional about what our less consciously adopted actions demonstrated? If I am, as I would claim, a slave of Christ, what about my life demonstrates that? In the negative, what doesn’t? Each item which I must include in that latter category marks me out as more of a vine-grower than a slave. Here, I know I am getting well ahead of my planned order for this study, so perhaps I ought set that thought aside, and be satisfied to focus on the fact that, to the degree I am earnestly a slave of Christ, I must come to view my very purpose as being to draw attention to Him. In the ringing words of John the Baptist, I must decrease. He must increase.
Cornering rather sharply, I would turn back to look at the vine-growers. I commented to myself in preparation that while the word ‘renters’ might roll more naturally from the tongue for our age, it fails to convey what the real relationship is. The renter pays for the privilege of occupying a certain space, and has some minimal responsibility for not trashing that space. But, that’s it. That’s the full scope of the contract. The vine-grower, on the other hand, has work to do in that space he occupies. Above and beyond the renter’s contract, there is the contractual expectation that the vine-grower will occupy his space profitably, and profitably not only for himself, but also for the owner. Do you know, apart from father and son, it seems to me we do well to see ourselves in every image of this parable, for each has its lesson for us to learn.
In this case, the message to take home is that we are intended to be profitable to the kingdom. It’s not enough to occupy space as children of God. It’s not enough to warm the pew. It’s not enough to rejoice in the fact of our own salvation. We are supposed to bear fruit. That’s not a matter limited to those fruits of the Spirit which are to characterize our personal growth. It’s more. It’s the command to go forth and multiply, which we should hear rephrased for the kingdom in the Great Commission: Go make disciples, baptize them in the Triune Godhead and teach them to observe all that I commanded you (Mt 28:19-20a). And, may I stress in passing, that particular wording at the end: All that I commanded you.
We have that adage that those who can’t do, teach. It ought not to surprise us over much that this adage is turned on its head in the kingdom economy. So much of earthly wisdom is. No, we are to teach primarily by being exemplary models of what we espouse. The better adage for us to retain is that actions speak louder than words. We can preach ourselves to exhaustion, but if, like these chief priests and Pharisees, our lifestyle doesn’t match our words, we will find our words of no avail. We shall discover that the Spirit does not infuse our message, and the watery gospel our lives preach will render our efforts to speak a higher Gospel if not void, then certainly of far less value than would otherwise be. I am cautioned, as I write, to be mindful that God is able to use the most unseemly vessels to His advantage. He is indeed able to take even the worst of us and make our message fruitful in spite of us. That is, however, no reason to lay back and accept ourselves as we are. It is but a comfort and a confidence that in spite of our warts, we can yet display God’s beauty in efficacious manner. For, it is He Who inhabits the words with power, not any eloquence we may think we possess.
Very briefly, I would note the stark contrast in perspectives that Jesus gives us here. There is the perspective of the vine-growers, and there is the perspective of the landowner. Just consider some of the terms used by each of these as concerns the slaves and the son. The growers treated the slaves shamefully, a term expressing contempt for them and who they represent. It can also have the sense of depriving them of honor, dishonoring them. And, of course, the dishonoring of the slave was a de facto dishonoring of their master. Their treatment of the son, in his turn, makes plain that it is really something of the reverse of the case: Their dishonoring of and contempt for the landowner is reflected in their treatment of his representatives, both slaves and son. Therein lies yet another lesson for the open eared, a reflection of Jesus’ own teaching that the disciple can hardly expect better treatment than his master experiences.
As to the son, the landowners, we are told, rejected him. This is more in sight with the application of that passage about the cornerstone, but it is clear that the stone is to be equated with the son, and the father he represents. They reject him. They disapprove of him. They examine him and find him wanting. But, this one that they find wanting, how does the father see him? That son is beloved: esteemed and dear. The father’s expectation is that he will surely be respected, the polar opposite of the treatment received from these men. Indeed, the father pronounces him the chief, the head. He is something prominent and even supreme. Yet, these men find him wanting. The irony in that is surely plain to all.
Let me turn my attention back to the slaves of this parable, the prophets of old. It’s a sad, and rather shocking thing to recognize how these men and women were received by God’s people. One thing seems particularly clear: whether they loved God or hated Him, those that could at least recognize that the prophet was truly God’s man feared him. A visit from the prophet was not a matter to take lightly, or to anticipate. After all, the primary feature of the prophet was that he would be speaking God’s own viewpoint unfiltered and unabridged.
Who could gladly stand in the face of an open and honest assessment of themselves from God’s perspective? Who, even in their corrupt sense of self, would dare to declare themselves blameless before Him? If a man says he has not sinned, he is a liar. That was as true in that earlier period than it is today. The prophet, the ultimate accountability partner, was not going to let such a lie stand unchallenged. Worse, still, he was the one accountability partner from whom nothing was likely to be hidden, as he had God’s own input as to the situation. He was going to speak the truth, and he was going to make very clear just how costly your true actions and your true character would prove to be to you. Still looking forward to hearing the prophet’s message? I thought not.
I would say, though, that by and large these men spoke with another characteristic which brought balance to the overall message spoken. They held out the certainty of hope. For every, ‘this must befall you’, there was a following, ‘but’. The near future is a misery you have brought upon yourself by your choices, but there remains that which lays beyond. If you will learn from the near term, God has set before you a pleasant pasture indeed. On the national scale, as it applied to God’s people in community, that later hope was generally offered without the prerequisite if. The if remained, as it must, but the point of the prophet was that things were in God’s hands to begin with. The if, in this case, was not a troubling doubt but really an advanced notice of what God was going to be doing for Himself. There will be a remnant, not because some portion of the people will have managed the if clause. There will be a remnant because God has said, “By My own right arm, I will do it!” It is in this sense that those futurescapes are presented as certainties, even where there is a clear moral if involved.
Now, then: If I seek to draw the case of the prophet forward into my own time, I find that there are several schools of thought as to just how that should apply. Large swaths of the Church today would deny that there is any active prophetic ‘gift’ or ‘office’ within the New Testament Church. Others would insist that there surely is such an office. Within that latter group, there is debate as to whether the office has continued unchanged or has been applied to a somewhat different role.
Those who would deny the office will tend to espouse a doctrinal stance along these lines. The priest, if we hold by the Old Covenant terminology, bore the prayers, the words of the people, into God’s presence. The prophets bore the words of God into the people’s presence. With that perspective in mind, they will point out that the pastor in the Christian church fulfills both roles. As he prays for his congregation, and as he ministers the sacraments of the Church, he serves as priest. As he preaches and expounds upon God’s Word to the congregants, he serves as prophet. In light of that sense of matters, it could be said, I should think, that every man of Christ serves in this dual capacity, at least on some level. If it is not so, we ought to think and act as if it were.
Let me stop at this point and contemplate the poor pastor in light of such doctrine and in light of this parable. What Jesus says regarding the treatment of God’s spokesmen was hardly a new message. Nor was it conceivable that Israel could deny how those spokesmen had been treated. It was written and recorded in the Scriptures themselves, for all to read. Would they deny Jeremiah’s reception? Would they deny how poorly Elijah and Elisha had been heard? No. The record was clear: a receptive hearing of the prophetic message was clearly the exception.
So, now we have pastors preaching week after week to the same congregants. They encourage. They cajole. They speak the truth as lovingly as they may, and admonish change, active change, amongst those over whom they have charge. I dare say that on average, their reception is no better than that of the prophets of old. Some, to be sure, may act upon their advice and bear the fruit of it. But, the majority will more likely nod their heads in approval of the words, and then dismiss them from consideration for the rest of the week. We know this is our way, our tendency. Or, if we have not dismissed them outright, we may seek to convince ourselves that those words are targeted at someone else we know. Or, we will concoct any manner of excuses as to why we cannot really put that advice into service, however much we would like to.
I ask you: do you suppose for a minute that the pastors of this world are not acutely aware of this situation? After all, every pastor was at one time or another in the pews himself. They are not a breed apart, but every bit as human as we. That is a point well worth bearing in mind, that we would neither exalt our pastors beyond their true worth, nor overburden them on the supposition that they are spiritual superheroes of some sort. Really, understanding this ought to give us cause to pray the more for our pastors, that they not grow discouraged for the seeming futility of their efforts. It ought to also give us cause to pray for our own situation, that we might be less inclined towards excuses and more inclined towards active obedience to the word of God as our pastors impart it to our lives.
Let me turn briefly to that other perspective on the modern prophetic role. For all that I have considered the case made against such a view (and I have not vested all that much time and effort into it), I do not see that the case stands very well. It seems to me, working from memory, that there are two passages that are primarily brought forth as teaching that these gifts ended with the Apostolic age. The first of these comes from Paul’s letter to Corinth. Towards the end of 1 Corinthians 12, we find a list of gifts and / or offices within the body of the Church. Whether or not this is intended to be a complete and exclusive list is not germane to my point here, but I rather think it probably was not so intended. But, we see first the list of offices: apostles, prophets, teachers. That fourth item in 1Corinthians 12:28 might be construed as an office, but I’ve never seen any evidence of it being so viewed. But, isn’t it interesting that those first three are set forth in order? Apostle, prophet, teacher. This is not the laying out of the so-called fivefold ministry. This is a general statement as to the composition of the church body.
And right there betwixt apostle and teacher stands the prophet. Clearly, then, in this stage, in the midst of the Apostolic age, the office persisted. Well and good. Of course, most would hold that the office of Apostle passed with that age, and so they might be inclined to lump the office of prophet right in there with the higher office. Those of such inclination are likely to discount the longer collection as well, setting aside any idea that there remain workers of miracles, those with a gift of healing, or even those who are given to speak in or interpret tongues. But, these same folks would hardly suggest that the office of teacher has been discontinued. Nor would they wish to advertise that the gifts of helps and administration are things God no longer imparts to His people. Isn’t this being rather selective in applying the Scripture?
Ah! But, they turn our attention down to the end of chapter 13, saying, “Look! Look!” See, there! It says, “If there are gifts of prophecy, they will be done away. If there are tongues, they will cease. If there is knowledge, it will be done away” (1Co 13:8), and it says that this will transpire “when the perfect comes” (1Co 13:10). The argument runs from there to pointing out that Jesus the Christ was indeed the Perfect, and He has come. Ergo, they reason, prophecy and tongues are ended, though these other sorts of things continue. I see one glaringly clear problem with such a line of argument: These gifts of which Paul is writing didn’t even begin until after Jesus had come and gone. All of these gifts are post-Ascension. So, how can it possibly be supposed that Paul is trying to tell us that the very things he says he does himself are illegitimate and have been from the first time they were encountered? Can it really be supposed that the Apostles themselves were duped into a counterfeit display of spiritual powers in having practiced these very things? Can it really be supposed that, in seeking to impart these very gifts on new converts, upon the Samaritans and Gentiles who were coming to believe in Christ, that they were ministering a strange fire?
It seems to me that the partiality of knowing to which Paul refers is such as shall continue to be our common lot this side of heaven. Unless we are prepared to say that whereas Paul was stuck seeing things as if in a dim mirror, we have advanced to that stage of seeing Jesus face to face (1Co 13:12), then I fail to see how we can suppose that somewhere between Paul’s day and ours, Perfection came. If He did, then I should have to further suppose that we missed the boat, and have been deluding ourselves rather miserably.
The second passage I often see levied against the idea of a modern prophetic gift or office is the opening verses of Hebrews. For safety, let me quote it here directly as it is translated in the NASB. “God, after He spoke long ago to the fathers in the prophets in many portions and in many ways, in these last days has spoken to us in His Son, whom He appointed heir of all things, through whom also He made the world” (Heb 1:1-2) Somehow, it is reasoned that this phraseology is intended to tell us that once Jesus spoke, the book was closed on all further comment from God. Now, if one wished to stress the final Authority of Jesus, I would have absolutely no argument with such a statement. But, there is an immediate problem with this conclusion, to my thinking. The very text which makes this statement, which we accept as Scripture, and God-breathed, was itself written after this supposedly conclusive speaking of Jesus. For that matter, the entirety of the New Testament must be accepted as having been written well after Jesus ceased to speak with earthly tongue.
Even as an argument for declaring Jesus the final authority on all things revelatory, I find this passage wholly unsatisfactory. “In these last days God has spoken to us in His Son.” Fine. In what way does this even hint that God will never speak again? If the intent of the passage was to proclaim that Jesus was the final message, then would we not expect a phrasing near to, “God has spoken to us with finality in His Son”? Or, perhaps, we might expect the author to state rather plainly that we were to expect no further messages.
In that regard, we might be advised to consult the conclusion of the Revelation. “I testify to everyone who hears the words of the prophecy of this book: if anyone adds to them, God shall add to him the plagues which are written in this book; and if anyone takes away from the words of the book of this prophecy, God shall take away his part from the tree of life and from the holy city, which are written in this book” (Rev 22:18-19 NASB). This, it is argued, is to be applied to the whole of the Bible. I must ask on what basis this claim can be made, when John seems to pretty clearly limit the scope to “this book”, by which he plainly did not mean the Bible, for it had not been collected as yet. No, he was referring to the material of the Revelation itself. This, I might add, was likewise a prophecy which came long after the Perfect had come, by that aforementioned measure.
I must immediately counterbalance this point with another. I recognize that there is a guiding concern behind this viewpoint, and that the concern is for the primacy of the written word of Scripture. Accepted and agreed. The Word must reign supreme, whether prophecy continues or not. I would, however, suggest that those prophets whose words we find therein could as easily have been viewed as adding to God’s Word, but in reality were only amplifying what was written. Put simply, God does not contradict Himself, whether in writing or through His spokesmen. If there remains a place for the prophetic office today, this will continue to hold true.
In that light, it might be that the nature of the office has changed, but not by as much as we might think. Honestly, I rather doubt any of the prophets of the Old Testament wrote as they did with the idea of becoming part of Scripture. I rather doubt the Apostles wrote with any such sense of purpose. Each of them, from Moses onward, wrote primarily because they were so prompted by God. Let me just say that God quite often does far more than prompt. He compels. You will find several of the prophets describing just such a sense of compulsion. The words would burn if not spoken. Paul, if memory serves, described a very similar feeling when it came to his ministry. Christ compels me!
What I am saying is this: while we may not allow room for the modern prophet to be accounted equal in authority to Scripture, we ought at very least to accede to Scripture’s commendation of the prophetic office, ought we not? Yes, this prophet’s words are to be tested. That was ever true. Part of the problem in Jeremiah’s time was that they were not so tested, and it led to pretty much the same abuses of the prophetic gift that exist today. I tell you this: if it is right and reasonable that we ought to know a certain trepidation as we teach, then this is doubly true when we prophesy! There’s a reason that the penalty for falsified prophesying was death. God takes very seriously what claims are made as being His words.
We have come to take this far too lightly, even apart from the prophetic office and its gift. How often do you hear somebody claim, “I feel God is telling me…”? No doubt, this is quite true, perhaps even in the vast majority of cases. Yet, it is something of an unprovable claim, isn’t it? How would you counter it, other than to insist that God is telling you quite the opposite, or God is telling you that this person is lying through his or her teeth? Then, how is the matter to be settled? This is not, however, an argument that suffices to claim that God no longer speaks. Indeed, such a claim ought to be laughable. If we are assured that God does not change, and we are clear that He has spoken in times past, then we ought to expect that He certainly might speak even now. But, if He does, we ought to be absolutely assured that what He says will be of one accord with all that He has said before.
For that side of the family that fully supports the idea of the continued office of prophet, I have other points that ought to be made. I have probably already noted this, but I’ll repeat myself if that’s the case: The prophets of whom we have Scriptural record have a habit of pronouncing the hard truths plainly and boldly, of explaining the inevitable outcome of the present situation of God’s people in stark terms. They also have an habit of holding out the certainty of God’s promise even in the face of such cause for despair. Jerusalem is going to be destroyed, but I AM will rebuild. You’re going into exile for all your accumulated evils against God, but He will bring you back, or at least your children. You’re going to be in Egypt for a long time, and it’s going to be hard. You’ll even find yourselves enslaved for much of the time. But, I AM will deliver, and He will bring you to a land of promise. I am going, but I will send another to comfort and counsel you. And lo! I am with you always, even to the end of the age. That end comes, but then the New Jerusalem! All of these point to a deep sorrow, but followed by a greater joy. The chastisement of the prophet always comes attached to the assurance of God, and the assurance of God always comes attached to a chastisement.
Today, it seems there are two schools of prophecy. On the one hand are those who are making some sort of a living off of painting unending pictures of inevitable doom. We have television channels and internet sites devoted to the likes of these modern day claimants to the prophetic role. But they paint with only the one color: the blackness of judgment. On the other hand, we have entire schools training up so-called prophets who never point out the problem, only offer holy platitudes of hopeful outcome. These may seek no fee for their services, but then, it’s rather questionable whether they provide any service, or only a great disservice. To both I would say, show me the Scriptural mandate for any such interpretation of the office!
As to the treatment of the prophets which Jesus is speaking of, consider that this was a long-standing issue then, and would continue to be thereafter. For example, we can go back into the Old Testament and hear God’s word against those who violently rejected His prophets then. “God sent messengers to them repeatedly because He had compassion on His people, His dwelling place. But they constantly mocked His messengers, despised His words and scoffed at His prophets. Finally, the Lord arose against His people for there was no further remedy” (2Chr 36:15-16). Can I just say that the final statement there ought to be cause for concern. There is a time at which God decides there was no further remedy for His own people. I want to come back to that after I finish this thought.
Jesus Himself predicted that this would continue to be the case going forward, and certainly the treatment the Apostles received from the Jewish community would seem to bear Him out. “Therefore I am sending you prophets, wise men, and scribes. Some you will kill and crucify, some you will scourge even in your synagogues, and some you will persecute from city to city” (Mt 23:34). In Paul’s case alone, you can find almost all of these things fulfilled, but he was not alone in that treatment.
Now, these two examples are focused primarily on the Jews, but we cannot allow ourselves to leave it there as a historical comment. These things were written for our benefit. So, consider: if we of the Church claim that the Church is the equivalent of Israel, then we must also see ourselves as the equivalent of the Jews. There is great comfort in that, in that we find ourselves thus declared children of God, His people, His chosen ones, even as the twelve tribes found themselves in times past. There is, however, cause for us to be very careful because of that very same knowledge. The Jews dwelt with that benefit of knowing themselves unique amongst the nations, particularly favored of God, and blessed with His love as no others. The Church has that very same benefit. The Jews moved from appreciation of their blessed position to jealous possession of that unique situation, to deadly presumption. And in that last state, they would no longer hear any voice of criticism or correction, even when God had reached the point of declaring, “there is no further remedy for My people.” In far too many ways, the Church at large has followed the exact same trajectory. We have moved from wondrous appreciation of the particularly blessed position that is ours in God’s economy, to jealous possession of that blessing, to deadly presumption. Can we really expect that there will be a different outcome for us, if we continue to follow that course to the point of refusing all correction?
I, for one, find this cautionary point rather disconcerting. Are we still able to hear correction? If we have, like the Corinthian church, allowed spiritual anarchy in pursuit of each being more spiritually gifted than the last, are we willing to hear a Pauline message telling us to knock off the pride games? If we are so rigidly devoted to a particular doctrinal position as to refuse all evidence which might point up an error in our understanding, how much do we differ from the Sadducees and Pharisees against whom Jesus leveled the charges of this very parable? At the very least, we mark ourselves out as stiff-necked and proud. Perhaps the charge of Sadduceanism or Pharisaism ought better to be held for another class: those who profess a form of piety that but masks their own sinfulness, rather than exposing and healing it.
For all these cases, I think that message from 2nd Chronicles might well be applied: “Finally, the Lord arose against His people for there was no further remedy.” If He would do that in the case of that nation, that people He had Himself brought into being, do we really suppose the Church that He likewise brought into being will escape the same treatment for the same crimes? And, what was the issue? The issue was a Church that not only rejected God’s spokesmen, the prophets, but ridiculed them, despised them, scoffed at them. We have not even yet arrived at the issue of abusing and killing them, these being little more than stronger forms of what has already been leveled as charges against us.
I, for one, would not wish to hear that conclusion spoken over my own case: that God had finally given up on me. I would not wish to hear it for myself, for my loved ones, my church, or my country, quite frankly. For one thing, on a particularly selfish level, it seems clear that when the country is so judged, it is not a judgment that leaves the faithful untouched. When the church is judged, even the remnant will feel the pain, if not in full. I am not given to seeking out pain. I would far rather seek out how that pain might be avoided, and it seems to me that a great part of that is remaining teachable by those who speak God’s word, particularly those who speak it with a prophetic bluntness.
To be sure, as has ever been true of the true prophet, those who are prophets in our own time cannot be speaking contrary to the body of Scripture, nor do I suppose that there is such a prophet whose words are worthy of being enscripturated themselves. No, we have this condition laid out for us in the Scriptures by which we are to regulate our lives: “No man can lay any other foundation except that one laid in Jesus Christ” (1Co 3:11). To this we must add, “You are fellow citizens with the saints, part of God’s household, built upon the foundation of apostles and prophets with Christ Jesus Himself the cornerstone. In Him the whole building is being fitted together, growing into a holy temple in the Lord” (Eph 2:19-21).
Notice the key image here. The foundation is Christ, the Cornerstone, further laid out and kept right and true by the words of the apostles and prophets. But, it remains foundation. A foundation with nothing built atop it is but a ruin. And indeed, there is a whole building being built atop that foundation, a work which the Lord Himself is doing in and through His people age upon age. Some have sought to add a wing here or there which is no longer upon the foundation, but these wings fail. They sag and fall to ruin over time. What is of interest for us is what is built upon that foundation, whether the spiritual material of that building be found to be such as the flames consume and earthquakes shake, or whether it be as firm as the foundation. But, it is quite clear that something is to be built atop that foundation.
Arguably, every attempt at developing a body of sound doctrine, every attempt to lay out a systematic theology, is an attempt to build properly upon that foundation. In some cases, those efforts prove well done and in other cases they turn out to be quite wrong. I do not treat, here, of those who seek to simply tack their own personal opinions onto Scripture, but restrict my point to those who really pursue an earnest desire to know and understand what the Scriptures say. There is more than enough error to be had in that group without troubling ourselves with the fakers and charlatans. My point is simply this: we don’t reject the concept of doctrine, or of theology simply because some have gotten it wrong, at least not if we are wise. Ought not the same to be said of the prophetic office, which Scripture seems to indicate is part of the plan for the New Testament community? Ought this not to apply to those other gifts which our own Scriptures indicate as part of what was, and arguably is, normative to the Christian experience?
By all means, let us learn to exercise these gifts under the tutelage and corrective admonishments of Scripture! Let us not pursue the free for all, carnival atmosphere that characterized the Corinthian church, by all appearances, and which characterizes much of the Charismatic movement in our own time. Let us take the measure of those words spoken with claims to prophetic authority. Let us concern ourselves with confirming that such things as are spoken with claims of Spirit origin are such as align with the Foundation. Let us be as assayers of the spiritual ores brought before us, as Bereans scouring the Scriptures to see if these things be true. But, by what Scriptures are we advised to stick our fingers in our ears and refuse to hear? By what Scriptures are we advised to cover our eyes and refuse to see? No, we don’t wish to open ourselves up to every last thing that claims to be Spirit-led and Spirit-induced. But, neither would I wish to cut myself off from what truly is Spirit-led and Spirit-induced. What wise student ever drowns out the voice of his teacher?
There is one more thing I should like to ponder, as applies to those whom the parable speaks of as slaves of the landowner. They suffered. Some more than others, but they suffered. And, they suffered for no wrong they had done. Quite the opposite. They suffered for having done what they ought. This may have consisted of nothing more than facing derision, or being chased away. But, in many cases, we see it leading to physical risk and even death. Jesus repeatedly warned His apostles that they could expect no better. After all, look what was done to Him, Who was the Son. Could the slaves, the disciples, really think that they would receive any different?
What shocks the senses entirely is to read things like this: “They went from the Council, rejoicing that they had been considered worthy to suffer shame for Jesus’ name” (Ac 5:41). Some, reading of such a wondrous attitude in the early church, are moved to go out and seek to bring such treatment on themselves. They go looking for the chance to suffer, thinking that in doing so they shall surely be suffering for Jesus’ name. But, the truth is that they are largely just being offensive, and not being found so for His sake. They are not doing His work, but puffing their own pride, and they shall have no reward for such things.
At the same time, as I read in the passage I shall be teaching later this morning, “To you it has been granted for Christ’s sake, not only to believe in Him, but also to suffer for His sake” (Php 1:29). It has been granted. How wonderful! Isn’t that just the sort of gift you wish to unwrap? Oh, thank You, I get to suffer! And yet, look at the reaction from the Apostles. Look: they weren’t superheroes. They were men just as ourselves, no better and no worse. But, God. God took them, infilled them, inhabited them, remade and remodeled them to truly live out the discipleship they had begun, and to become effective and accurate disciplers themselves.
That they were effective can be seen in what records we have of that next generation of leaders who came up as the Apostles passed. Granted that they were not entirely error-free, this second generation. But, neither were they timid in their pursuit of the Gospel’s spread! These were the men who faced Rome’s worst persecutions and, in many cases, welcomed them. They, too, found it too marvelous a boon that they had been found worthy to suffer as Christ suffered. I think, as well, of that story we have of Peter’s end, that he requested to be crucified upside-down as he felt himself even yet unworthy to be allowed the privilege of suffering too much like Jesus had.
Frankly, I cannot relate to this. I’m not sure how many in the West really can. I cannot fathom a mindset that would look upon this certainty of pain and death and find it cause to rejoice. Yet, it is just such a mindset that has marked out the pillars of Christian history. It was there at the beginning. It would arise again in the Reformation. The stories of those who stood up and insisted on a restoration of Truth to the faith are manifold and almost uniformly terrible, as we might measure them in fleshly terms. Men and women burned at the stake, rent apart, beaten and abused, banished from society, and in every way discouraged most forcefully from speaking in any way against the prevailing order of the Church; yet they persisted, even unto death, and rejoiced as they went. Who, in this age, in this society, would do the same?
While we might want to hesitate before attempting to draw up doctrinal statements from the material of parable, in this case it seems that quite a bit is declared which is doctrinal in nature. These are mostly points which one arrives at after having resolved the intent of the imagery Jesus has used. The first thing that comes out is that God is the One Who built the defenses for this vineyard. He fully provided for it. This is hardly news. We know full well that God is Jehovah Jireh, the Provider. Yet, I’m not sure that we are so clear on that when it comes to the land and its defense. We sort of accept this concept on the personal level, the spiritual level. But, it’s comes less naturally to us to view the house we live in or the car we drive as being His provision for us. It comes even less naturally than that to consider the nation of our birth as being a matter of His provision. And, even when all of that is settled, looking upon those set in governance over our nation makes it harder still to maintain such a sense of Who God Is.
Our Provider? What, then, is the meaning of all these disasters? Why, then, are we dealing with the sorts of leaders we have been required to deal with? How, the, can it be that the society around us is in such a rapid decline from the values upon which our nation was founded? Yet, I’m sure these are the same sorts of questions Israel was inclined to ask as the nation found itself under Roman dominion for a season. The facts, on the other hand, remained unchanged, as they do for our own day: God Is our Provider and He Is in control. We may have yet to fathom His purposes in what transpires around us, but we can none the less be assured that what transpires around us is truly by His purposeful will. If it perplexes, we do well to dwell prayerfully on the why.
All of that said, let me focus not on the difficulty, but on the clarity of this parable. God provided, and He provided well. He set out in that vineyard every last thing that would be needful in the production of its fruits, and He set out everything that would be needful for its defense against the predations of either animal or man. What He did not do was to populate the estate with robots to see to its operations. In fact, He did not so much as leave an overseer there who was in His own employ. No, He leased the place out in its entirety.
Apart from the obvious lesson of the parable, let me also draw forth this point. God, in His provision for us, does not so provide as to give us leave to simply sit back and enjoy. What He gives still requires from us active participation in the process. The walls were built, but men would be required to stand those walls. The wine press was dug, but men would be required to stamp out the vintage in its time. Men would be required to tend to the vines as they grew. In short, God so provides for man that man is required to complete the provision. He provides in the way of instilling a sense of teamwork in us.
This provides an interesting tie-back to the lesson I presented from Philippians 2 yesterday. That section has such great focus on the unity of God’s people in their efforts for the Gospel, and yet at the same time, we know all our efforts for the Gospel are for naught except God inhabit the labor. Apart from His provision, our every program, every service, every ministry will result in nothing. The bigger point, though, is that God has so set forth His intentions for the Church that they require our partnership. They require this not because He could not achieve His purposes apart from us, but simply because He has decreed that our attendance to His purposes is required. He has further decreed that this effort of ours on behalf of the kingdom is such as cannot be done solo. It requires the team. We are a people called to strive together, side by side. Too often, we are found to be a people striving together, alright, but as antagonists, rather than team-mates.
Listening to our youth leader’s message last night, as he made a plea of sorts for church-wide participation in an upcoming, inter-church event, it was immediately clear that he was talking of an effort begun by our previous church family. I must confess to having mixed feelings about this. There are, after all, reasons why I felt it necessary to remove myself from that family, although these were surely not such reasons as preclude association with those we were amidst. Some of my misgivings are, to be sure, simply the emotional considerations of even so temporary a reuniting with those we knew for so long. Some of it, though, is actually more simple surprise that this new church of ours would even be inclined to such an association.
I know, after all, the nature of those churches that are otherwise involved in this effort, having been part of it on previous occasions. They are Charismatic / Pentecostal folks almost exclusively, and none too concerned for the details of doctrine or theology. This new family of ours is quite the opposite; well educated, deeply devoted to correctness of doctrine and theology, and with very little in the way of Charismatic leanings. I suppose that as much as anything I was surprised to find them willing to associate with so disparate a group. I am, I think, rather pleased by this even if surprised. Perhaps we understand the idea of unity better than is typically thought, better than I thought.
Perhaps this is the nature of that statement made regarding our capacity to demand conformity on the main points whilst allowing conscience to dictate differently to each individual as regards the rest, and, as my dear friend quoted from Augustine yesterday, “in all things charity.” Perhaps I shall be blessed to see just what that looks like, at least in part. And, yes, I do think I shall find cause to rejoice in this rather surprising turn of events. This is, indeed, the Lord’s doing, and it is marvelous in our eyes.
That is somewhat of a side-track, but it deserves recording. One thing we ought to recognize from this parable, though, is that if it is God Who built it and God Who provided for it, then it is God Who owns it. Let me sit on this thought for just awhile, before I proceed to where I thought I was going. Apply this to the church, or to the Church. God owns it. If we are a congregation, it is because God has so determined we should be. If we have a facility, whether well-equipped or just enough, what we have is by His Provision, and is therefore His. Do we, I wonder, look upon our church in that sense? When we come of a Sunday and fill the pews, do we really perceive that the pews we are sitting in our not ours, but His? Do we come to the platform, we who serve, with the recognition that we are not taking up our position so much as standing where He has assigned us to stand? In short, do we view the service as His service, or our presentation? It makes rather a large difference, doesn’t it?
Thinking upon the Church in its larger, universal scope, this must color our perception of other denominations, surely. If the Church is His, and He has provided it, then the fact of denominationalism is not some aberration in His carefully planned course for faith, but is actually part and parcel of His Provision. Can we, in our denomination, look upon those of such denominations as are rather radically different from us, as fellow travelers in the Way in spite of our differences? Obviously, there will be some of whom we must say that though they carry the label, they are not truly the Church. In fairness and justice, we must recognize that there are surely some within our own number who are not truly the Church. But, clearly, certain of those denominations which still cling to the Christian label are by practice and belief so far removed from Christian orthodoxy as to be rejected. Many more, though, while they may interpret those lesser matters far differently, are yet sufficiently alike as regards the critical points as to allow that we may indeed join together for the common work of promoting the Gospel. Praise God, that there are those who are willing to do just that, however great the differences. It is He Who built the vineyard. How dare we think to pass judgment on those He has chosen to work the vines alongside us!
I do, however, want to take this in a more personal direction. It is not just the Church which belongs to Him. All the blessings of this life are had on loan. That is the reality of our existence, whether we are willing to acknowledge it or not. Life itself, it might be said, is on loan. He Who made that loan has every right to expect a return on it. This brings me round to a comment I believe I have already made, but I want to make it again in this regard. Those we meet in the parable are not merely renters, although they are expected to pay rent. They are vine-growers, husbandmen. They are not renting a hotel room, or even an apartment, wherein they might sleep or merely relax. No. They are renting a workplace, one they are expected to work, and to work so as to turn a profit. The clear expectation is that these workmen to whom the place is rented out ought to so work the place as to be of value not only to themselves, but also to the owner.
This is not, then, a relationship of slavery, nor even of indentured servitude. It is a deal freely entered into. It is a contractual relationship, covenantal. The terms were agreed to and understood, the expectations clear to all involved. This is not just the story of those wicked leaders over Israel in that time, nor even a story for leaders. It is a story for us all. We are all husbandmen in the vineyards of our Lord, and we are all clearly instructed that the expectation is fruitfulness on His behalf. Now, He is so fine a landowner as to arrange it such that our fruitfulness not only benefits Him, but is also to our own benefit. That’s simple generosity on His part. He need not have so arranged the deal. He could, were He of such a nature, have charged such usurious percentages as to leave us with no more than the gains of a subsistence farmer; just enough to survive while we work ourselves into an early grave. But, He did not do this. He asks only a percentage. Indeed, He asks less of us than our government demands of us for the privilege of having been born here. Isn’t that something? They seek profit from an ‘accident’ of nature, while the Creator and Controller of nature asks but a fraction of the same for having provided that ‘accident’!
For our own part, we know we are expected to be fruitful for the kingdom of God. We know that. And yet for the most part we go along through our days with little to no thought for that kingdom. Oh, we likely are concerned with our example, as we like to think of it. We want to appear as righteous as we can, at least where we can do that without sticking out too much. We want to be holy but we want to get along. The question must be what we do when it becomes impossible to do both. If we opt for righteousness in such situations, this certainly has the potential to bear fruit for the kingdom. Such things stand out in people’s minds. But, without word of what it is that motivates us to choose that option, how well can the fruit grow? Being looked upon as a good man will not produce fruit in the looker. It is not the means of grace which Scripture teaches us, and if this is all we do, then we have yet to take seriously the Biblical mandate.
We are called to make disciples, to baptize and to train. These are not things that can be accomplished by simply trying to live a holy life. Living a holy life is well and good, laudable even. But, it is not enough. The Pharisees, at least so far as anybody could see, lived holy lives. It was not enough. Monastics through the ages have done their best to live holy lives, and this goal has been at least a part of the motivation for their monasticism. It’s hard to be holy in the midst of a fallen world. But, God calls us to do just that. Jesus tells us point blank that we are left in the world, while not of it, that we may serve as light to the world.
It strikes me that if this attempt at personal holiness is as far as we’ve taken the Gospel message to heart, then we are still acting like renters of kingdom property. We see that property as a place to rest, a place to relax, not a place to labor. When, then, the Owner of that property comes for His due portion of the produce, if all we have to show is our monthly rent payment, is He likely to be pleased? The parable of the talents would suggest not. Vine-growers have a purpose. Renters are, if you’ll pardon the harshness, intrinsically worthless.
I am taking that term from the conclusion drawn in regard to these vile husbandmen, a conclusion drawn by their own counterparts in the temple hierarchy. From Matthew’s account, we hear them say, “He will bring those wretches to a wretched end” (Mt 21:41). Wretched: evil, intrinsically worthless. These are not the judgments one wants to hear in regard to oneself. And yet, as God often seems to do, those to whom the label applies are forced to acknowledge the justice of that application. They do not yet see that this is speaking of them, but they see the clear implication of the story line. These guys are worthless, and the owner will see them utterly destroyed before he goes out to find some workers that are of worth.
Boom! The bomb has hit target. Like David facing Nathan, the tale hits home: You are those vine-growers, and you are precisely correct as to the Owner’s response. Therefore, the kingdom of God will be taken away from you and given to a nation that will produce its fruits (Mt 21:43). Well, now! We stand up proudly, wave our hands, and shout, “that’s me!” Well and good. Yes, I am glad to be associated with that kingdom, and I hopefully associate myself with that country that produces for Christ. But, it’s hopefully in the modern, “Gee, I sure wouldn’t want to be wrong about this,” sense, not the solid, Biblical certainty of Christian hope.
There are questions from this parable that we must ask ourselves. We must ask on the corporate level, certainly, but more critically, the questions need to be made personal. First: Am I producing or just renting space? By the measures I have laid out based on this parable, I’m not liking my answer. I have been perfectly satisfied to stop with so-called lifestyle evangelism. But, with those considerations that have been coming to mind in recent days, I find no cause to think that having stopped there, I have done enough. I would say I am far closer to renting space than I can comfortably accept as right with God. I would like to think I am not completely without fruit worthy of the kingdom, but I cannot think that such fruit as may be appearing owes much to my labors, really.
As to that fruit, the second question arises: Grant me the supposition of fruit, of being productive for Christ, or at the very least being productive as Christ would have me to be. To what end am I then putting the proceeds that come of that production? In crassest terms, I might consider that as it applies to my basic income. I go to work, I put in a good day for my employers most days, and I get paid for it. I can accept that this is truly vocation, the daily work I am called by God to do, the daily work for which He has particularly suited me. Let that be the case. To what end, then, the fruits of that labor? If God has set me in that place to work, is He not entitled to His portion of its proceeds? This, I suppose, we may as well consider the tithing message. God has richly blessed us with the fruits of gainful employment. He need not have done so. Nothing required that He so provide. But, He has. Are we even so thankful and aware of Him as to give Him His portion? Ten percent! Not much, though it looms large in our sight at first. Honestly, we can live quite nicely without it, because He has provided so well. It’s just a little more comfortable for us if we hold onto His portion for ourselves, or so it seems to our bedimmed thinking.
Let us say, then, that we have conquered this particular threshold. We are tithers and proud of it. It may be tempting at that point to think that in this we are sufficiently fruitful for God and stop there. We tithe. We come to church. We read the Bible. It’s enough, isn’t it? Well, as good as all those things are, they still leave us in that point of producing, but only for our own ends. Yes, we have given into the church, funded the building, seen to its supply. But, what of its ability to reach out to the lost? You know, it cannot do that on money alone. It requires workers. When the church seeks opportunities to reach out to the lost and not just to its own, are you there? Am I?
I know that I have a tendency to set myself forth as more a waterer than a planter. There are those who are particularly adept at that whole evangelism, taking it to the streets, aspect of ministry, or so I explain it to myself. Then, there are those who are more fitted to instructing or discipling the recently converted. And, there are those who are better placed moving those with some understanding into a place of deeper understanding. Clearly, if all evangelize and bring in the converts and nobody is around to aid them in their growth, then the job is being done wrong. Clearly, if we provide for growth from newly born in Christ to spiritual adolescence, and then leave folks to make their way as best they can from that point, we are still doing it wrong. The question I have for myself in all this is whether my sense of things is a rationalization for my own tendencies, or an accurate assessment of my role in the body? It is not a question I feel I can answer with the certainty I should want to have, nor is it one in which I would consider it wise to simply ask myself, or even examine myself. The opportunity for self-deception is too great, and the stakes are too high.
Lord, this is a question I must ask of You, and trust that You will by means of Your choosing make clear to me which is the case. I ask You quite simply, whether, from Your perspective, You are receiving of me the Your fruit in its season? Am I giving You good return on this life You have leased to me, or am I behaving as a renter of no value? I know the answers I would prefer to hear from You, and I’m sure You know as well. But, I pray that You would keep my ears and my eyes open to the Truth in this, as in all things. It is at times like these that I am that much more thankful to know that You continue to will and to work in me, and yet, I am mindful that it is even so my duty to work as well. So, I lay it before You that You might adjust and correct as need be, and I pray further that You find me willing to those corrections as they come.
In conjunction with this, Father, I must offer thanks for that next thought I see ahead of me: I thank You that You are so exceptionally patient with us, with me. There are those things it seems I have struggled with and excused and sought to change and then simply accepted, and it seems I go round and round the circle of thinking on these issues. Sin? Just stupid? Perfectly acceptable? I can talk myself into each view as the mood takes me, and yet none of that thinking has produced much by way of change, has it? And yet You continue to work on and in me. And yet You continue to be my patient Father, forgiving me my ways, correcting me, training me. How my heart is drawn to Thee! How my love binds me to Thee! If I have not yet managed to separate myself from Your enveloping love by all my foolishness, what ever could? And yet, Lord, You keep me mindful of that terrifying conclusion to Isaiah’s words. Your patience, though seemingly infinite in my sight, does indeed run out. There is a point at which You declare the case closed. I pray, then, that in me you do not find cause for such a determination, and that, as Paul was wont to pray, I would be found living my life out even to the day of its closing in such fashion as shall bring You glory, yes, and pleasure as well.
I noted at the outset that the coverage of this parable varies greatly from one author to the next. This still holds as Jesus comes to His concluding question. Matthew relates that question as being answered by the unspecified ‘them’, whereas Mark and Luke have Jesus providing the answer Himself. In Luke’s case, there is a ‘them’ reaction, but it comes with the answer already given, and the reaction is to reject the very possibility of what that answer implies. I noticed, in today’s reading of the passages, which came from the Amplified Version, that said version specifically assigns the ‘them’ of Luke’s account to the category of the chief priests and Pharisees. I am inclined to differ with this view on two counts.
First, to assign that “May it never be!” to the chief priests and Pharisees rather precludes harmonizing the three accounts. If it is they who speak that sense of horror at the conclusion, it seems highly unlikely that they are also the ones who offer the conclusion. As to their offering that conclusion, it would seem more in keeping with Jesus’ style that He would solicit the listener to reach the conclusion on their own rather than feeding it to them. The power of the parable, after all, lies in its capacity to steer the listener towards an obvious conclusion. It is only the higher application that is veiled. Given that, it is more natural to hear the priests and Pharisees replying with the conclusion than with the reaction to the conclusion.
Second, were they to provide a reaction, it is unlikely that it would be of such nature as would admit to the premise of the parable. That, “May it never be!” is a reply that suggests not only was the message received, but it was received with a certain sense of legitimacy. There is no doubt that the priests and Pharisees got the message loud and clear, and the nature of their reaction is felt in the closing out of the passage. That reaction is relayed by all three authors. They got it, and their reaction was to try and come up with a way of seizing Jesus without stirring up a riot against themselves. In fact, it was only fear of those crowds that kept them from hauling Him away on the spot – at least so far as natural causes are concerned. Clearly, the overriding reason was that it wasn’t on God’s schedule.
But, to suppose that those whose reaction was to want to kill this Man and be rid of Him would at the same time validate His message with that exclamation of dread at such outcome seems rather a stretch. Those words of concern are far more fitting in the mouths of the crowd that stood by listening. For, they also understood the message, but they also understood the Man – at least in part. They recognized Him as a prophet, and they recognized that when a prophet spoke, his words were to be taken with utmost seriousness. They may not point to an inevitable outcome, but they point to an outcome made inevitable where there is no change of heart. That cry, then, is largely the cry of, “let our hearts be changed!” This, after all, is the only preventative to the prophetic woe.
Knowing God is merciful as well as just, the people had cause to repent, even as Ninevah in Jonah’s time had cause to repent. It seems the people at large understood this more clearly than their leaders and experts. Where those leaders and experts reacted only with anger and wounded pride, the people reacted with an earnest desire for change. I grant that the unfolding of events in subsequent days would lead us to question just how earnest that desire was, but in the moment before us, it is earnest indeed.
It behooves me to note that, where the dark word of the prophet clearly applies, that “May it never be!” is perhaps the only valid reaction to have. But, if it stops with that exclamation, the validity drains quickly away. That cry is the cry not of repentance but of regret. Yes, God! I see that my actions thus far are utterly deserving of the things You say, and I would that it were otherwise. I don’t want the punishment! The problem is that we most often stop with that sentiment. We don’t want the punishment, but we also don’t want the change that might avert punishment. We may have managed to suppress that angry, wounded pride response that the priests had on display, but it’s only suppressed. In that we refuse to be changed in these matters, we are very much responding in their fashion. We’ve just learned to drape it with a bit more civility. We have learned the ways of hypocrisy, admitting the fault without considering any change in that faulty behavior. We regret being caught, but have no least intention of actually doing anything about it, with the possible exception of trying to hide it better next time.
Repentance, by way of contrast, must take action. Repentance is active, it is work. It requires a continued effort to purposefully change behavioral patterns. If what we are doing is wrong, it is insufficient to acknowledge the wrongness of it. It is insufficient to simply set it aside, or try and lay it down with promises not to pick it back up again. That would be akin to keeping a six pack in the fridge while trying to cease from drinking, like a dieter maintaining a stash of desserts, or any other such example as may better fit your own situation. No, repentance requires a continuous effort to not only keep from doing the wrong, but to actively seek to do the opposite of that wrong.
I am put back in mind of those teachings as to the Ten Commandments which point out that every negative command implies a corollary positive. It is not enough to avoid the act of adultery. It is not enough, even, to avoid the lustful thought which Jesus identified as adultery’s precursor. There is an active participation in the opposite behavior that is required of us. We must work to treat that man or woman with honor and respect, and to guard him or her against any attempt to reduce them to such status as mere objects for desire. This, of course, without tipping into the realm of idolizing them.
That ought to immediately have us questioning how we should deal with the cultural norms around us. We are surrounded by those who seem to need to turn every human being into an object for sexual desire to amuse itself with. Every bit of advertising aims at this goal. Even our news broadcasts lean in this direction. Bad news is apparently easier to take if it is relayed to us from a desirable face. It’s not possible, sadly, for us to completely avoid that atmosphere. We might just as easily seek to avoid breathing. It’s that pervasive. But, this is not to say that we must meekly accept it as inevitable. No! But, how to deal with it? Is it a case for us to militate for change, to argue for laws preventing such filth? Perhaps, but such an approach seems unlikely to achieve much besides a fanning of anger. Far better that we should seek to demonstrate a better way, a healthier format, a superior style.
By this I do not necessarily mean that we ought to try and produce Christianized alternatives to everything. We’ve already tried that in large part. You can go out and by yourself ‘Christian’ novels, even ‘Christian’ romances. You can go rent a ‘Christian’ movie, listen to ‘Christian’ music, and even get yourself ‘Christian’ pencils with which to take notes in your ‘Christian’ notebooks. But, these are such items as only a Christian is going to have a use for. They are not going to penetrate the culture at large, because the culture at large will actively avoid them. As to the media side of things, despite our insistence that it is not so, much of this simply doesn’t measure up in terms of production standards and talent are concerned. Why should it? The market they’re aimed at isn’t the world at large, but us. And, we’re so thrilled to have some sort of alternative, any alternative, that we happily overlook the shortcomings.
If we are to alter the culture around us, then first, our offerings must be of a quality to compete with what’s out there for competition. Second, our offerings must move beyond obvious proselytizing or blatant Christianese. Let’s start with something perhaps more insidious from a world perspective: that which quietly promotes our standards instead of preaching our standards. What do I mean? Well, take a clear and obvious case. If we produce a movie whose entire premise is to declare an anti-abortion viewpoint, it really won’t matter how compelling that movie’s message is, or how salient its arguments, because the only ones who will be bothered seeing it are those who already agree. If, however, the more general sense of valuing life and family is relayed in a movie that has a real plot, a real storyline, real action and drama; that might actually get some eyes viewing the message.
In short, if all we do is preach a demand for our morality, then we will find ourselves preaching primarily if not exclusively to those who already agree with us. We will all nod our heads to the message, but nothing will have changed. If we demonstrate the life that such a morality promotes, and so in a fashion that makes clear that this is not some form of asceticism, but an ethos that really and truly values life, enjoys life promotes life: then, perhaps, we start to shift the thinking of those around us. I don’t think that this is a succumbing to the seeker-friendly phenomenon. In fact, I don’t think this has a great deal to do with what we present within the Church. It has everything to do with how we present when we’re outside the church.
Finally, I must turn my thoughts to this matter of the cornerstone. As Jesus presents it, there seem to be only two options. Either we fall on it, or it falls on us, and neither are presented as leading to particularly enticing outcomes. Hmm. Would I prefer being broken in pieces, or ground to dust? Can I have what’s behind door number three? This is one question I see posed by the cornerstone part of this message. Is there a door number three? Part of me wishes to think there is. Part of me feels pretty certain there is not.
As I take this under consideration, I remain mindful of that passage in which Peter comments on the verse which brings us to this point. “This precious value is for you who believe. But, for those who disbelieve, He remains the stone which the builders rejected, which became the very cornerstone” (1Pe 2:7). That being the case, whether the door we are advised to choose is number one or number three, we do well to remember that it is indeed a precious value to us.
Let’s consider the possibility that there is no third door. That would certainly present the cornerstone in its sense of being a skandalon, an offense, a trap for the unwary. “He who falls on this stone will be broken to pieces,” Jesus says. The phrasing has this sense of being smashed together so hard as to shatter. Think, perhaps of an angry man taking his dinner plates and bringing them down hard on the corner of his fireplace. Frankly, if his plate survives the first attempt, he’s likely to just swing harder the next time, until that plate finally does shatter. Personally, I would be particularly disinclined to be the plate, and I suspect you would to.
Yet, there is that sense to the Gospel that we must die in order to arrive at life. He who seeks to preserve his own life shall lose it (Mt 16:25). It is in losing our lives that we attain to Life. It is a necessary feature of the Way that we have taken up our cross, embraced that which must necessarily destroy life from within us. These are not things designed to attract, are they? It’s rather an odd duck who would happily pursue such a course, except it be the Holy Spirit instilling such a desire. But, this is exactly what we are called to.
There is a promise, or an assurance, buried somewhere in Scripture, which notes that if He rends, He will also restore. I am thinking it is in Hosea, perhaps. If we are shattered by this Gospel, this Messiah of God’s choosing, then we have assurance that God will put those pieces back together and being that this is the Lord’s doing, we can be assured as well that when we have been rebuilt, we shall be better than we were prior to the shattering. We are, after all, to be remade, rebuilt, renewed by this Gospel. That renewal is not to the way we were before we heard the joyous news, but a renewal from the way we were.
It’s a restoration to the way we were originally intended to be, to the purity of Adam before the Fall, to the perfection of the God Man Himself, if you dare to believe it. No, not in this life, but again we have a promise handed us: that we shall see Him as He truly is, a thing which no man living can behold. We must die as preparation for such a blessed event, and in seeing Him we are promised we shall be made as He is. All those broken pieces of our shattered lives shall be fit together in such a way as does not restore the image of that life, but, in the marvelous fashion that only our Lord and Savior can do, will restore the image of that life we never had opportunity to know, the life of Eden. I suspect that we shall learn that the Life into which we are introduced by that shattering excels even that of Eden. After all, in that restoration of real Life, we are told we shall be set higher than the angels.
Given that marvelous outcome, is there really any need for door number three? I think not. It is possible, I suppose, that such a door, such a third way is intended, but it seems less and less likely as I consider. Jesus just doesn’t seem to be interested in the middle of the road. He doesn’t show a great deal of tolerance for fence sitters. Neither does He ever present the Way as the path of least resistance. Rather, it is more often presented to us as a path of great resistance, a Way strewn with trials, toils and snares. But, it is also presented to us with an infallible Guide, One Who never leaves nor forsakes us on that Way. And, on that Way we are also accompanied by our great Comforter, our Counselor, sent as our companion by that same Guide, Jesus the Christ, that we might have at hand a constant point of reference, a moral compass of infinite perfection.
If shattered we must be to find entrance to this Way, then let us rejoice in the shattering, knowing that even our shards are in the hands of the Master, a Craftsman of infinite skill. He Who first fashioned the pottery of our lives, in shattering that first work, has fit us for refashioning as a sculpture of far greater beauty. And, in His hands, that sculpture shall assuredly be completed, and that in such fashion as cannot be excelled!
