Darkness of Ignorance (03/31/23)

Such is Paul’s presentation here that it really pretty well dictates the flow of one’s thoughts in regard to the passage.  It is brief, well thought out, and clearly shows us our path.  That path starts in darkness.  Or perhaps, being as we are the redeemed, we should better put that in the past tense.  That path started in darkness.  It was the darkness of ignorance as to the things of God, a darkness made darker by sin, and become cover for sin.  Certainly, for those of us come to faith from the wide world of the Gentiles, this is our story.  Scripture tells us as much.  “You used to be darkness, but now you are light in the Lord” (Eph 5:8).  And of course, that verse doesn’t just set the facts before us.  It calls us to action, even as we are called here.  “Therefore, walk as children of light.”  We’ll get to the light more shortly.  But I chose to hold that under its own heading for this portion of my studies.

It does us good, though, to recall that we are not so very far removed from those who continue to walk in darkness around us.  It’s too easy for us to lose all compassion for them, to deem them as untouchables, even as the Pharisees in Jesus’ day looked at the less pious in Israel and found in them only things to be avoided at all cost.  This, of course, demonstrated a profound misunderstanding as to the holiness of God they claimed to possess, and the same must be said of us if we live our days fearful that the taint of sinner’s darkness might dislodge the faith that is in us.  If that remains a danger to us, and on some level, to be sure, the siren call of sin still has its influence against which we must be on guard.  But greater is He who is in us!  This is our reality.  He is our strong tower, and we, as He brings us to remembrance of all He said and did, calls us back within His strong defense.

The point I wish to pursue here is not directly anything that Paul is seeking to teach.  But it pertains, and I will pursue.  The thing about this darkness of ignorance is that it is so dense as to defy penetration.  Calvin writes, “For no darkness is more dense than ignorance of God.”  We have tried hard, in recent months to obtain a depth of darkness in the bedroom at night, given the sundry street lights and neighboring flood lights that bathe our house.  And there’s an image suited to the next section!  Light penetrates the darkness.  Indeed, it does!  Blackout shades?  No matter.  Light will find its way around the edges, reflect off the shades themselves to illumine the walls.  Added blackout curtains?  You’ll never seal up well enough to prevent that light.  And honestly, in our day and age, so many bits of electronics with their power indicators, or other bits of display that somebody thought should remain on at all times permeate our homes that full darkness is never going to be an issue.  There’s always enough illumination to navigate by.  In fairness, waking in the depths of night, that’s somewhat convenient.  But what it does for our sleep patterns is another matter.  But I digress.

The darkness that consists in ignorance of God does not have such telltales blinking.  There are no dim glows to give hints as to where one’s feet ought to be planted, where the obstacles are.  There is, as Calvin said, no darkness more dense.  What light would help?  The clear answer is that the light of truth is needed, but in this darkness, no such truth is to be found.  There is nothing to so much as inform the one in darkness where to look, nor even that truth is a thing.  I think that in this present age this point has never been more true.  Truth is suspect in the modern day.  It is not merely unknowable, it’s a false hope, if you ask the clever post-modern.  For them, I suppose, Pilate was a prophet of sorts, or would have been.  Pfft.  What is truth?  What even does that mean?  No, they are utterly stupefied as to truth.  But lest we come to look down upon them in their delusion of truthless existence, let us recall once more:  We used to be in that very same condition.  And we didn’t pull ourselves out.  We didn’t snap to, one day, having stumbled upon Truth in our blind wandering.  No, Truth grabbed us, pulled us forcibly out of our darkness, and set us in the Light.

For those still in darkness, one aspect remains this ignorance of God, ignorance of Truth.  There is another.  Sin has put blinders on.  Even if there is light, they have covered their eyes lest they see it and awaken to reality.  Sin has them utterly convinced that things will go on forever just as they are now, that this is all there is.  You only live once, as is said so often, so you may as well do as you please.  This, I should note, is nothing new.  Isaiah saw it already long years before our Lord came.  “In that day the Lord GOD of hosts called you to weeping, to wailing, to shaving the head and wearing sackcloth.  Instead, there is gaiety and gladness, butchering meat and eating, drinking of wine.  You say, ‘Let us eat and drink, for tomorrow we may die.’”  To which thinking God gives answer.  “Surely this iniquity shall not be forgiven you until you die” (Isa 22:12-14).  No light for your darkness.

You know, I have commented before, and fairly recently, on the absence from modern preaching of the threatenings of God’s wrath.  We don’t inform the sinner of their true peril.  We don’t try and shine light into their darkness.  We just hold up pretty pictures and hope they’ll see and approve.  These prophets had no such compunction.  “Behold, the LORD is about to hurl you headlong, O man.  He is going to roll you up like a ball and cast you into a far country to die” (Isa 22:17-18).  Go back to the Great Awakening, and you will find preachers unafraid to bring this same fiery light to bear on those who sat in their pews still cloaked in this dense darkness of ignorance.  How else are they ever to come out of that darkness?

If, as Clarke says, we cannot join them in this sin-darkened view that life will just keep going as it has, that we have no cause to think of what comes after, then there is also this to consider:  Being as we are servants of the Lord of Light, can we really suppose it acceptable to simply leave them there, blinded and lost in the darkness of sin?  No!  No, I tell you.  We are sons of day, servants of the Sun of righteousness, and being as we are His sons, His servants, we must surely shine His light into that darkness, serve as beacons to guide these poor souls out of their present misery.  Part of that, sadly, requires that we awaken them to their misery, for they are so blinded to sin’s misery that they don’t even take note of it.  It’s just life, as they perceive it.  Maybe they even count it fun still.  No really, we like this!  But maybe, just maybe, if God is gracious, the light of Truth may reach them yet, if only someone among us would take up the task of bearing that light into their darkness.

Some would argue that’s primarily the job of those we hire as pastors, or those with the unique calling and gifting of the evangelist.  And in some degree, I would probably agree, but not entirely.  We are called to live as what we are, to pursue our days as unashamed representatives of the kingdom of Light.  We are not to hide away our faith.  Neither, I think, are we intended to become irritable annoyances with our constant nattering on about the Gospel.  There’s a time and a place for everything, and that includes direct evangelism, I expect.  But if we are His, our lives are lived in reflection of Him.  The character of that transformed soul He has set within us must necessarily demonstrate in outward word and habit.  There’s something different about the believer.  We’ll get to that, Lord willing.  Our very being, if indeed we live for Him, is an act of evangelism, a preparing of the way, a beckoning light to those whose slumbers are disturbed by the presence of God.

You used to be in darkness.  Now walk as children of light.  You used to live for sin.  Now live for Christ.  You used to be an exemplary pagan, running fast after death.  Now live as an ambassador of the kingdom of God, firmly committed to life, real Life, life worthy of being called living.  Have mercy on those in darkness.  They are blinded.  But don’t leave them blind.  They have nothing to inform them of the truth; except maybe you, having established a basis for being heard by living your light among them, perhaps bear that truth to them.  For how shall they hear except one preaches?  How shall they believe in Him of whom they’ve not heard? (Ro 10:14).  Perhaps it is for this that you were sent to this place.  Perhaps you are uniquely positioned and uniquely prepared to be just the light they need to be pulled out of their darkness, just as you were.

Okay, Father.  I hear a wakeup call for myself in that.  I can’t say as I know just yet how exactly it shall apply.  I can’t readily identify the darkness into which You would have me shine.  I mean, I know well enough there’s plentiful darkness around, but where are those cases where basis has been established?  Who is it You would have me be light to?  I shall have to trust that You, having made this point to me, shall in turn make clear the case, and that You, having created me for this purpose, shall indeed see me equipped and in position to fulfill my purpose, Your purpose in me, and that, by Your power.  May I be ready and willing, for I know that in You I shall be able.

Light of Truth (04/01/23)

Paul is drawing a strong contrast for us, and there is much in it that we can explore.  But we must keep the point in sight, and that point is comfort and confidence for those concerned as to the coming day of the Lord.  This, I have to say, is a thing that remains most needful, for many a believer today remains troubled by thoughts of that day, uncertain as to whether they can really look forward to it with joyful anticipation, or whether it should be found a cause for dread. 

But let me first briefly consider that contrast which is being shown to us.  I considered this at some length in my earlier notes, but there are points to be remembered, and the biggest is this:  Light, of necessity, rolls back darkness.  If you have doubt of it, simply look to the heavens on a clear night, and consider how incredibly far away are those stars whose light we see, even after that light has travelled through the immensity of space, and across eons of time to reach our eyes.  It holds in the physical realm.  It holds in the spiritual.  There is a reason these familiar images are set to the purpose of Paul’s writing.  Darkness and light are things readily understood because they are the stuff of every day.  And we know this:  Light always rolls back the darkness.  Darkness cannot comprehend the light, cannot prevent the light from shining and being seen.  Now, I have seen the video of the gentleman who built for himself a windowless room, painted its interior with the recently developed ultimately black paint and put in but one light socket, and yes, one can see that in such a setting the light may not illuminate so much as one would expect.  Yet it does still illuminate, even if its scope be reduced.

Okay, let’s carry that into something meaningful for our faith.  When the light shines, however far it may shine, it reveals what was previously hidden in darkness.  Even that dim starlight gives some degree of visibility, prevents the night from being utterly black and sightless.  I recall that early morning pitstop in the Poconos, on a highway devoid of traffic, devoid of humanity apart from ourselves.  No lights from nearby towns limited what was visible overhead.  And what was visible overhead was stunning.  For one who had lived in suburban New England most of his days, this was a wonder never before seen, nor seen since.  So many stars.  Such a busy sky.  And the land that had seemed pitch black around us as we drove, only revealing brief glimpses in the headlights turned out to be pretty visible, even on such a moonless night.  Light reveals.

Carried into spiritual matters, there’s a message we sons of light need to hear.  Our light, the light of Christ in us, rolls back the darkness not only in us, but around us.  Paul makes the point.  There are things done in darkness because it would be shameful to be seen doing them.  Now, I don’t suppose we would generally consider sleep a matter for shame.  It’s a rather natural function, after all, and necessary to our well-being, as we soon learn when deprived of its proper amount.  But sleeping is a thing for doing at night, generally speaking.  Discounting the question of those who work the night shift, and of necessity sleep by day, we would count it questionable at least to discover one sleeping mid-day.  We might make excuse for the elderly, given their reduced energies.  But certainly, for those of us still in the workforce, being found asleep on the job would be grounds for reprimand if not dismissal from employment.  And, particularly in the picture Paul is painting, we would even now tend to suppose that one who could not remain awake by day had been overdoing it by night.  It is the sign of a party animal, one given to spending his or her nights in carousing and drunkenness.  The energy drain of the night has left them listless by day.  And for some, it becomes a way of life.  Musicians, I think, are notorious for this.  To a degree, I suppose one could blame that on the night-shift aspect of their employment, but there’s usually more to it than simply having been on stage last night.  After all, that’s rarely if ever an every night deal.  Yet, the late rising is an every day thing.

So, what have we?  We have an admonishment that being as we are not sons of night and darkness, our behavior ought not to be that of the nighttime, that which needs the cover of darkness.   As sons of the day, our deeds should be those suited to daylight.  And that is, at least in part, precisely the way in which the Light which is in us, the Light of Christ indwelling, rolls back the darkness around us.  It has first rolled back our darkness, given us to have a new spirit, a new character, no longer devoted to the so-called life of the night, but now given over to the activities of those who understand, who know God and are known by Him.  So, it has rolled back our darkness.  But as our character demonstrates in outward word and deed, it also, of necessity, rolls back the darkness in which those around us have sought to hide their sinfulness.  And it is quite likely that the first from whom they have sought to hide is themselves.  But if we live godly before them, they must come to confront that darkness in which they dwell.  Purity exposes sinfulness.

It may well be that the blinders of sin prevent them from seeing truly, even when such an example of godly living is standing right in front of them.  No thunderings of the preacher will penetrate the dense fog that wraps their minds, for ignorance has so darkened understanding that even seeing, even hearing, they cannot comprehend.  They have become entirely too adept at suppressing the truth, so skilled at it that they don’t even notice that they are doing so.  But something rankles.  That is what they may sense.  Something rankles.  Something disturbs their slumbers, and like the groggy teenager hearing the alarm in the morning, the first response is to strike out, to silence the disturbance and go back to sleep.

But we are not of the night.  Our deeds must not be those suited to the night.  Obviously, this does not require that we never sleep, which would make for a very short witness before we were called home.  Neither does it require of us an entire abstinence from wine, or from any other sort of entertainment one might consider.  It does require moderation and propriety.  And we can apply that to most anything we care to consider.  If we enjoy good food, there is a place for moderation and propriety in that enjoyment.  If we have a nice house and a plot of land, there is a place for moderation and propriety in just how much we devote to its upkeep and beautification.  That’s not to say we let it go to ruin because we are too busily spiritual to be bothered with such mundanities.  But it does mean we don’t become so preoccupied with house and home that we neglect more significant matters.  For me, I suppose the big one is going to be music; music, and perhaps the distraction of the Internet, or more simply, the pleasures of distraction.  There is nothing wrong with making music.  There is something wrong when it becomes so all-consuming that relationship is secondary, that prayer life and time in the Word suffer for it.  There is nothing wrong with an occasional pause in the day for mild amusements. There is something greatly wrong when the day is passed in mild amusements, to the detriment of things that needed doing.

Barnes writes, “The Christian should do nothing which may not be done under the full blaze of day.”  We are those who, hopefully, profess to be of the day.  Let me emphasize the professing aspect of that.  It’s all well and good to be confident in one’s standing as a child of God.  But would anybody outside the church suspect it of you?  If you are a witness to the Light of Christ, they should.  At bare minimum, as we have been observing, there ought to be something about you that is different, something of the light of day to you, and if that is so, then it must surely cause those yet in darkness to have questions.  And where that is the case, we are called to be ready to give answer.  We are not called to dissemble and deflect.  Rather, we are called to profess our true difference; Christ in us.  And that is going to lead to closer examination, even if it is done surreptitiously.  Once professed, the Christian is ever in the spotlight.  God designed it this way.  And this is all the more cause to heed Barnes’ observation here.  Live as befits as son of the day.  Let your conduct be such as will stand the light of day.

Now, to be sure, that advice has application in validating our profession, in making our life as witness of the Light effective.  For nothing will please the denizen of darkness more than to find our lives at odds with our confession.  If, after all, these sons of Light pursue deeds of darkness, then the child in darkness need find no cause for reform in them.  Why should he be bothered if they aren’t?  But for us, there is that larger truth, a truth we know to be absolute, that the deeds done in darkness are never truly hidden.  “Even the darkness is not dark to Thee, and the night is as bright as the day.  Darkness and light are alike to Thee” (Ps 139:12).  That is the culmination of a longer observation.  There is no place to hide.  There is no place so remote that He would not be there.  And that is true whether we are of those who gladly acknowledge His lordship over us, or of those who remain a rebel force.  But for us, for those who have heard His call and know Him, being as we profess to be of the day, our conduct must be suited to the day.

I mentioned at the start of this section that we need to keep context in view.   Paul has been discussing the last day, both in its connection to the surety of our resurrection – for death had apparently come visiting in the church up there in Thessalonica, and that had left some disturbed as to its impact, and to the certainty of destruction for the unbeliever when that day comes.  Well!  If judgment is certain, what of us?  Will we too face the dreadful review of our every thought and deed, exposed before all mankind as God reads out the record?  I know it’s a question I keep going back and forth on, and primarily because the only proper answer has got to be, “I don’t know.”  But there is something in the course of this discussion that leads me to lean towards the negative.  Hear the force of this.  “You are all sons of light and sons of day.”  You have the helmet of the hope of salvation.  That’s not some wishful, gosh I hope I make it, hope.  That’s assurance.  Seeing that dread day on the horizon, knowing it must come, we are not given to be borne down by the thought of facing our Lord.  We have hope!  We have, to borrow from Mr. Henry, confidence in the Son of Man, and as such, we recognize that for all the dread warnings about this day, for us it shall be a time of refreshing.

Does this mean we go pre-Trib after all?  I see no guarantee of that.  What I do sense, yet again, is that come that courtroom scene, we shall discover that the record of our many crimes has been wiped clean out of the books of the court because our debt has already been paid.  Forgiveness, in the perfection of God’s forgiveness, is, if not forgetting, then so similar as makes no difference.  I mean, He knows and we know.  But it shall not be brought up again.  It has been forgiven.  The court having been satisfied, our names are not written in the book of pending sentence, but in the book of life.  And let it be supposed that I am wrong and the record shall in fact be read out.  For every crime indicated, our Advocate, our Attorney stands at our side, presenting, for charge after charge, the proof of penalty paid.  I confess, I would not wish to face such a scene as that, yet if it must be, I have yet that confidence in the Son of Man, that certain hope that however this long moment plays out, the outcome is certain.  Salvation has been mine all along, and shall be made complete in that day.  This day does not come to us, then, as a dreadful event to be withstood, but as a friend, a light revealing in full what has been true in us for a very long time, that we are indeed sons of the day.

The Wycliffe Translators Commentary makes the point well.  When Paul speaks of us as sons of day, he has in view that very day of the Lord that has been his subject leading up to this affirmation.  You are sons of that day, and being sons of that day, you shall share in its glory and in its triumph.  You shall be revealed for the work of Christ that you are.  Whatever calumnies you may have met in life, the Truth shall out.  Whatever erroneous judgments have been made as to your character, in this day you shall be shown godly, for your hope has not been in works, not been in your own self-willed so-called righteousness.  No!  Your hope has been in the One who is Righteous and True, in His reworking of your heart and soul, and now, as can be seen by all, in body as well.  Behold!  There is no least trace of sin in you on that day.  The work is done, and the righteous outcome revealed.  Here is that moment for which all creation has been longing.  Here is that outcome for which you have persevered in hope.  Here is final triumph over both sin and death.

You are sons of the day, and it shows.  You have no cause to fear, for this is the day of your homecoming.  Sons resemble their father, and come this day, the resemblance will be made absolutely clear.  Yet, it does give us a certain duty while yet we remain in this world, and Paul is not shy about making us cognizant of that.  You are sons of light and day, so act like it!  You can’t be gadding about in deeds of darkness, no!  Be alert and sober.  You identify with Him.  Live such that you are identifiably His.  His light is in you, and that being true, it cannot be contained.  You can’t really hide it, even if you are inclined to keep quiet about it.  Light shows.  And even if our words are not often evangelistic, even if we are inclined to simply live out our faith, well:  Actions reveal character.  Let our actions reveal our sonship.  Let our actions befit those who are sons of the Day, such as will give us no cause to fear being exposed in His glorious light.

Sons resemble their father.  Herein is our assurance.  Herein, also, is a useful self-check.  If we are the sons of that which we resemble, what does our resemblance say as to our parentage?  Go back and consider the proud Pharisees, so certain in their claims, “We have one Father, even God!”  And how was this claim met by the Son?  “If God were your Father, you would love Me, but you can’t even understand Me, can’t accept a word I’m saying, and why?  Because you are of your father the devil, and desire to do what he desires.” (Jn 8:41-44).  Be careful in your certainty.  Be careful that you not be found one of those proclaiming peace and safety even as calamity comes upon you.  Be careful that the faith you profess is the faith you actually live.  If you in no way resemble this one you call Father, how are you a son?  If, on the other hand, you are truly a son, then live like it.

Let us hear it another way.  If you would have no dread of that day, live as befits those who will bless that day.  If you would have no dread of judgment, judge yourself and repent, repent truly.  Put paid to the deeds of death, and take up the life of Light.  Let it be said of us, “You look just like your Father.”

Living as Sons (04/02/23)

So, then, son of the day, how are you to live?  What does this life of light look like?  We are not left to guess, for we have our instruction, even here.  We have been receiving it.  In most general terms, we might ask how one avoids being overtaken by that day, surprised as by a thief?  And the answer is there for us:  Be alert.  Be sober.  Again, don’t lose sight of the context here.  We are discussing death and life, resurrection and judgment, matters of finality and eternality – final in that there shall be no opportunity for appeal, eternality in that there shall be no end of the resulting condition.  So, we are called to live, as Barnes puts it, in watchful regard of His ever-imminent return.  No, we know not when.  But we know the certainty of it, and the enormity.  But we don’t wait in fearful dread.  We wait in hopeful anticipation, knowing ourselves sons of that day, knowing His return is to us light and life.

And what do we do in this time of watchful waiting?  We shine.  We see the darkness all around for what it is, and we shine our light, His light, into that darkness.  How do we do so?  We do so, first and foremost, by living lives defined by the exercise of self-control.  We set ourselves about the assignment that has been given us in this kingdom whose King we serve.  We are outposts in foreign lands, even though we serve the true King of these lands.  He is the True King, and yet He is largely unknown and rejected in this, His rightful kingdom.  His foe holds sway for the present, and we see the dread fruit of his evil all around us.  We see our fellow humanity so blinded by that darkness, so lost in sins, as to defy all hope of rescue.  And yet, we know we have been set here, left here by our Lord in this outpost, that those sitting in darkness might yet see the light.  We shine, and we pray that those whom He is calling shall see and come to His glorious light.

In some ages of history, it seems to me that we have been misguided and over-zealous in how we sought to fulfill this purpose.  The Crusades would be but one obvious example.  We might set the terrors of the Inquisition in that same category.  I could even accept that even such terrible things as these began with a good intent, began with a love for God, but something got in there, wrenched the course of the effort, and made of it an evil that in many cases worked to the detriment of any spread of the gospel, though no doubt others were pushed to deeper, stronger faith by the troubles imposed on them by these misguided excitements.  But in other ages, the Church has known her purpose and served it well.  She has shone her light, stood for the God of Truth, and sought as best she may to live as that Truth teaches her to live.  She has been there, standing fast, remaining watchful for her Lord, remaining sober and steadfast, even as wave after wave of abuse from outside and pursuers of novelty inside have sought to shift her from her foundation.

And we, who would stand our watch, who would display this faith, this love, this hope of salvation, must likewise hold fast, likewise refuse to be shifted, no matter who or what it is that seeks to convince us of the need for change.  We do not go forth beating the unbeliever over the head with our message.  We live it.  We try, at least.  And when we fall short of our own beliefs, our own standards, we seek forgiveness.  We seek it first and foremost from our God, for every sin is against Him.  But we also seek forgiveness from those we have hurt by our failure.  And we even seek forgiveness from those sitting in darkness, who have seen our failure and thought it reason to reject our King.

We proceed with love and with gentleness, not as a conquering force, but as emissaries.  We don’t need to use force, and in fact, recognize that such use of force would be pointless.  It might make us feel good about our vigorous pursuit of God’s course, but it would be a false feeling.  It would be every bit as much a vanity display, an empty and pointless posturing, as those who make such noisy display of their supposed virtues.  We dare not fall into such practices.  Rather, we seek to declare the truth of God plainly and accurately.  We seek to do so in our direct preaching of His truth, when such is our calling.  We seek to do so in our adherence to His words in our daily living, and in our handling of such failures as are ours to own.  But we go into this world around us with the recognition that while we are called to sow, and sow with abandon, the results are not ours to dictate.

I hit upon this statement in the JFB commentary.  “With God results are all purposed.”  It can be a bit hard to parse, for some reason, but the point is important for us to have in mind.  As we sow, the outcome may not be to our expectation.  Whether we are doing broadcast sowing, speaking of our Lord to anyone who will stop long enough to listen, or whether we are just trying to live godly in the world and so show His light, or whether we have labored hard to explain this God of ours to one individual that we feel sure is close to receiving, the outcome is not for us to dictate.  We may pray for our desired outcome, assuredly.  There is by no means any sin in doing that.  But to demand, to insist that God honor our desire?  No.  He remains Lord, and we, His servants.  If it is to His purpose that this one, despite all the effort, shall remain hardened against receiving Him, then that is His purpose, and His purpose is good.  We may not get it, but we must needs accept it.

There are vast portions of the Church that do not wish to hear it.  They cannot accept that God has determined in His eternal purposes that this one or that shall not be saved.  Point them to Pharaoh, and they will insist that this was a rare and exceptional case, one of a kind, even, that He would not permit of Pharaoh’s receiving faith and forgiveness.  But one would be hard-pressed to miss how very many exceptions there are, even in the course of the Old Testament.  Are we to write them all off to free-will?  Had they all heard and rejected the God of covenant?  And, if we are to take it that this was the case, how is it, then, that any have been saved, for Scripture is very clear on the point that there are none good, none who seek Him.  “All have turned aside, together they have become useless.  There is none who does good, not even one… There is no fear of God before their eyes” (Ro 3:10-18).  If it were a matter of free will, this would be the end of the story.  But it isn’t.  Where God has purposed salvation, salvation has come.  This justification into which we have been entered is a gift, given through Christ Jesus.  This faith in which we stand is a gift, received in the Holy Spirit.  But whether we look to the elect or whether we look to the lost, the fact remains.  “With God results are all purposed.”

And for us, that purpose is that we stand as lighthouses in this dark world for a season yet, for so long as the season continues, until that very moment, that very day, when He has come, and the final decision has been made for each individual.  What does a lighthouse do?  It shines.  How does it so shine?  Here, the answer that is given is one of moderation and serious regard.  It is not monastic withdrawal from the life of the world, but it is a keeping that world’s ways in check.  It is not an utter denial of every worldly appetite, which would be a physical impossibility, let alone spiritual.  But we keep those appetites within bounds.  Calvin puts it thusly, “For this is spiritual sobriety, when we use this world so sparingly and temperately that we are not entangled with its allurements.”

Don’t make the mistake of thinking that herein we find an absolute prohibition on alcohol generally, on wine specifically, nor even, as some attempt, on such things as tea and coffee.  Abstinence isn’t the point.  That should be plain by the fact that sleep is conjoined with the subject of drinking.   Sleepers sleep at night, and drinkers drink at night, but we are not of the night.  Well, no.  But this body shall need sleep.  And we can point to other places where Paul even advises his younger coworker to take a little wine for his health.  It’s not abstinence, then, that sets us apart, but certainly we could advocate for moderation.  We don’t go out carousing, whooping it up in wild revelries.  We are not party people.  That doesn’t mean that we eschew all fellowship.  Far from it!  Indeed, we are encouraged to know fellowship.  “Don’t forsake assembling together, as some have made their habit.  Rather, encourage one another.  Indeed, encourage one another all the more as you see the day drawing near” (Heb 10:25).

We can’t encourage one another from isolation.  We can’t encourage one another by withdrawing into our private spaces, locked up in our prayer closets.  For all that, we can’t very well serve to shine this Light into the world by hiding away from the world around us, even to the degree such a pursuit is possible.  No.  We participate in the world as we must.  But we do so with its appetites kept within bounds.  We are not averse to enjoying a good meal, enjoying the sights and smells of a trip to the country, nor even exploring and appreciating the artistry and craftsmanship of man in buildings and museums and performance of the arts.  There is beauty in this world, despite its fallenness.  God created it, so this should hardly surprise us.  Indeed, I should think that if we could find no trace of beauty in the world, we should find it cause to question the reality of this God we serve.  If His creation is so fragile that mere man, or even devil, can so thoroughly destroy it as to remove every trace of His influence, then is He truly God?  He is, I assure you, and I find it marvelous that in spite of all the worst that man has to offer, yet His beauty shines through.  This, after all, is our own story, our own personal story, each and every one of us.

This is what it means to be a lighthouse.  In spite of our worst, in spite of our sinful past and our failure-ridden present, yet the Light shines, yet His beauty is evident.  There was something said by Martin Luther King that seems apt here, though I must present it in paraphrase.  It was to the effect that the light shines brightest when the night is darkest.  Sober character sets us apart from the unbeliever, as the Wycliffe Translators Commentary observes.  It is the Light, the beauty of God shining forth in our lives.  In a world gone madly after its lusts, such character stands out.  The contrast is stark.  Some will see it and be intrigued, drawn to the beauty of goodness.  Many others, however, will see it and be triggered, as we so often hear the response described.  And what has been triggered will oft times become explosive.  So be on guard.  Be prepared.  But be faithful to your calling.

What Paul speaks to us here is fully in keeping with what our Lord taught in His own turn.  And His teaching makes clear that this expansion beyond the immediate matter of drink is correct.  He said, “Be on guard.  Let not your hearts be weighted down with dissipation and drunkenness and the worries of life, that this day should come upon you like a trap” (Lk 21:34).  It’s not just drinking to excess.  It’s present life to excess.  The worries of life are many, and it seems they only increase with age.  We know well enough that thought of carefree childhood, although I think we must recognize that many have grown up never knowing such a time.  Perhaps we didn’t really experience it either, but the cares were smaller, more readily dispensed with.  There was joy set before us every day, and such cares as there were swiftly faded in light of such promise.

Listen!  This hasn’t changed.  It only feels that way because we are in fact allowing the worries of life to weigh us down.  Joy remains.  Delight remains.  Believe me, I know the weight of those worries.  I know the wearing grind of situations that do not seem to improve, of loved ones seemingly determined to wallow in their sufferings, by all appearances beyond hearing any voice of wisdom or correction.  I know the drag of besetting sin and the frustration and doubt it can cause to rise up in our hearts.  But I know too that my Savior lives, that He has redeemed me, called me by name.  I know the hope of my salvation, the hope of this day, even this dreadful day.  In those times when I try to bear the burden of these worries myself?  That is when strength flees from me and I feel as one without hope.  But then I am called to remembrance.  This is not my burden.  My burden is light for it is only such burden as my loving Lord sets upon my shoulders, and when He does so, I find ever and again that He is actually carrying both the burden and myself.  I am reminded yet again of joy, of beauty.  I am called out of my worries to stand in His strength, to observe His workmanship in all that is unfolding, and to recall that with Him, “Results are all purposed.”  The means may seem odd, but the results are His to determine and direct.  And He is good.  Ergo, those results, whatever I may think of them in this present period of partial understanding, are in fact good.  Indeed, they are perfect, even as He is perfect.

Father, it seems to me that I have fallen far short of this lighthouse existence You call me into.  I feel too often the weight of worries.  Even so recently as my rising this morning, I have faced my shortcomings, my lack of compassion, my depths of frustration at the seemingly changeless situation of life.  You know.  I would be a fool to pretend it were otherwise.  Yet, I have heard You speaking to me through the things You have given me to pursue this morning.  There is beauty.  You are my God.  Hope remains, even if it may not look as I have wanted it to look.  You know, as well, how only yesterday I gave thought to matters of being distracted from this watchfulness, only to fall right back into habits of distraction.  I can only ask forgiveness, only seek Your aid in overcoming these weaknesses of character in me.  And I ask in advance for Your strength and power today.  Who knows (well, You do, obviously), but that perhaps the day shall not in fact be so dreadful as its start has suggested.  But if it proves to be a day that tests compassion, then I pray You strengthen compassion within me, that I may be tender rather than resentful, loving rather than angry.  Let me be a light.  Let me know Your light.

A Strange and Glorious Armor (04/03/23-04/04/23)

With the reminder given, and a final urging to sober pursuit of righteousness, Paul brings forth an imagery that will become a familiar favorite of his; that of the believer’s armor.  We are more familiar with its later presentation in Ephesians, but even here, in this earliest letter of his, the images are put to use, and for good reason.  As Calvin points out, we are in a life of perpetual warfare, battling a foe, in Satan, who doesn’t relent.  Thessalonica, of course, knew something of warfare, even if it was not home to a Roman garrison as was Philippi.  And the church there was assuredly aware of the battle they were in.  Recall what has brought us to this discussion.  There had been those in this church, young though it was, who had died.  Was this the result of further persecution arising against them?  We don’t know with certainty.  But whether or not that persecution had led to deaths among the believers, it had certainly known its times of violence.  It was such a time of violence that had led them to send Paul away for his own safety.  That such violence had continued and perhaps even increased in intensity would hardly surprise, and it was knowing this to be the case that gave Paul reason to deliver such assurances and exhortations as he does.

Their time will come.  It will come suddenly and unavoidably.  But their time is your time, in your case, a day to be anticipated with joyful longing rather than dread concern.  Of course, Paul is not some superhuman, and he had his own past to regret.  No doubt he had his own moments of wondering just how that day was going to fall out for him.  As strongly has he preaches the good news of assured hope as regards this salvation in which we stand, there would be those moments when doubt crept in.  Perhaps that stint in Athens had produced just such dark periods in his thinking.  We needn’t put him up on some pedestal, thinking that he, of all people, was somehow above such shortcomings.  But we do know that he knew well how to battle those concerns.  It is the basis for his instruction here.

And I would note that this instruction doesn’t consist in simply telling his readers that it’s okay, that such doubts are par for the course, don’t worry about it.  He doesn’t tell them not to sweat their sins and failures, knowing Christ has forgiven them.  No!  He stirs them to take action, to take care of their position.  You are at war!  Satan looks for opportunity to wear you down, to move you from the place of faith out into the open where he can and will destroy you.  Don’t give him that opportunity.  You have been equipped, equipped by a loving Lord Who is Himself your Victorious Warrior.  You have been positioned to stand guard, so stand!  Guard!  Put on that armor He has given you.  Don’t look to devise your own.  Use what He has given you.

Now, image of breastplate and helmet would be entirely familiar to his readers, to pretty much anybody living in that period.  To be part of the empire was to know these armored men.  It may be that some in that church had met such men in battle, or knew those who had.  But veteran or no, they knew the sight of that military force.  Rome made sure of it.  What would be utterly unfamiliar is the nature of the armor Paul describes.  I tend to think his choice is intentionally jarring.  If, as many posit, he has in mind the prophecy of Isaiah in regard to our Lord, then he knows the armor mentioned by Isaiah is of righteousness.  The helmet is presented with the same aspect of salvation, but without quite the same immediacy.  Let’s bring that verse out.  “He put on righteousness like a breastplate, and a helmet of salvation on His head.  He put on garments of vengeance for clothing, and wrapped Himself with zeal as a mantle” (Isa 59:17).  This is a picture of our Victorious Warrior come against His enemies.  It is the power of God on the offensive.  But that is not what he is speaking to these believers.  Theirs is a defensive position, a guarding of the outpost that is the Church.  So, where our Lord wears righteousness, we don faith and love.  Where His helmet is salvation, ours is the hope of salvation.

Now, those may not seem much like equipment for battle, this faith, hope, and love.  These are the sort of thing that give us the warm fuzzies, right?  Faith is not something we wield against a foe, but something we hold within.  Hope hardly seems a thing at all, more a state of mind.  And love?  Well, if we can dispense with the Hallmark images, perhaps we can arrive at that active, outwardly directed love which defines the Christian in that it is the outpouring of that same love God has poured out upon them.  And yet, as the ISBE observes, when we have on this armor, they render our ‘whole conduct unassailable to any accusation’.  Calvin observes much the same, writing, “For the man that is provided with faith, love, and hope, will be found in no department unarmed.”  Indeed, this is one of those points where believers of all stripes concur, though they may lend some variety to the phrasing.  Clarke, for example, notes how faith, seeing our invisible Lord, gives us strength to endure, love allows us to bear up under troubles maintaining a pleasantness of attitude, and hope allows that we faint not, having the assurance of our great end to come in its due time.  This ‘trinity of virtues’, as the Wycliffe Translators Commentary terms them – and I very much like the phrase – protects us against complacency and despair alike.

And that, I should note, places us smack in the midst of context.  Why are we here?  The church had been experiencing persecution and loss, whether those two were connected directly or not.  Persecution wears one down.  It gets old fast.  And the newer believer, come up against this reality may well find cause to despair of that faith he has found.  Death, certainly, gives us pause.  I have as recently as last week learned of the passing of a dear saint, whom I have known for many years.  I have to say it is perhaps the only occasion I can think of when the thought of someone passing into her reward brought a smile to my thoughts rather than sorrow.  There is no place for doubt as concerns her being reserved for glory in that day we have been considering.  She has entered into her rest, ‘blessed by the Best,’ as she was wont to say.  But on many other occasions, we are not so certain, and even if we are, the loss of close family leaves a mark.  It may even lead to a certain despair, for death, however common the experience, remains foreign.  We recognize that somehow this is wrong, not part of the original order, and even if we know the one who has died did so in true faith, yet we feel the loss, and if we are not careful, may find in it cause to question our Lord’s care.

But we don’t have faith alone.  We have faith and love as dual guards of our heart.  We’ll come to the hope part shortly, but let’s look at these two.  These are, as I observed in my earlier notes, the power God gives us for righteous living.  You see?  Paul has not left Isaiah’s picture so very far behind after all.  And we might note, given the comparison, that the armor we have been given for our defense is the very armor God Himself wears into battle.  This is the stuff of His own armory.  The JFB offers a thought that might help us to see how these two work in concert:  Faith speaks to inward motive, and love to outward act.  As I said, we have to move beyond the romantic ideas of love to that sort of active, compassionate, benevolent love that Scripture commends and commands.  These two, that commentary advises, combine in perfect righteousness.  Where motive is right and deed is done, there is the power of God at work in the life of the believer.  And where the power of God is at work, despair is cast out.  Perfect love, John wrote, casts out fear (1Jn 4:18).  Fear involves punishment, the very stuff of this day that Paul has been addressing.  But if we face that day in fear still, it is only because we have yet to be perfected in love.  Let faith rise up!  Let this power of God do in and through you that for which He has sent it!

And having such faith and love, as was said, guards us not only against despair but also against complacency.  There is no place in God’s love for complacency.  There is no neutral ground in this battle.  We can’t just let go and let God.  For God has not let go of us.  Now, I point out once more that we are not looking at offensive weaponry here.  This is not getting out and assaulting the darkness and the lords of that darkness.  There is a place for that, but that’s not what we’re talking here.  This is defense.  This is guarding what has been entrusted to you.  Satan seeks to drive us out of our Strong Tower in our despair.  He seeks to overwhelm us and wear us down.  He looks for ways to insinuate these doubts into our thinking.  Whether or not he has power to speak into our interior thought life, he is certainly capable of arranging such events as will have us producing those thoughts all on our own, if we are letting our guard down.  We’ve all been there.  Tired, hungry, overworked, and faced with seemingly relentless trials, and the old man within rises up and makes himself known once more.  We speak things we shouldn’t have.  We react as we shouldn’t have.  We perhaps do things we shouldn’t have.  We give in to our baser instincts, and go wallow in the mire for a time.

But we are not without defense.  Our Lord has equipped us for times such as these.  He has seen to it that we have full supply of faith.  How is it, do you suppose, that you came to have faith in the first place?  Did you think it something you had mixed up in your lab?  Where do you suppose this capacity for true, compassionate love came from?  I mean, I would hope you know yourself well enough to recognize that this is something foreign to your nature, at least that nature that was yours before Christ laid hold of you.  Oh, I don’t deny that the unbeliever is capable of demonstrating care.  They may even do so from something we would account good motive.  Yet, as it is done without an abiding interest in the glory of the Lord, it lacks value.  Even our own deeds, we must recognize, lack merit, for our best offerings remain tainted by sin, as grotesque as a pile of filthy rags when set up against His perfect holiness.  And still, there is in this no cause for despair, for He has overcome our doubts and our tainted selves.  He has shifted our hearts from the stony, uncaring state that was ours by nature, wholly self-interested and only looking to others for their value to us, and replaced it with a heart tuned to His heart, beating with His heartbeat, and seeing this lost world through His eyes of compassion.

But it’s not just the heart.  The heart, as central as it is to our feelings and emotions, cannot survive without the head, anymore than the head can continue on without the heart.  So, we don’t just get the breastplate.  We get the helmet as well, and if anything, the helmet is more critical, for if our thoughts go dark, there’s really little the heart can do to counter that.  So, here is our defense against doubts.  Doubts arise.  They arise primarily because we know ourselves too well.  We know our sins, as David did.  They are ever before us.  And we might wonder, if we are inclined to wonder, why that is.  After all, we know ourselves forgiven, and we know that God has declared that so far as He is concerned, they are forgotten.  Yet we won’t forget.  We are reminded over and over again of past crimes against our Father.  It’s not His doing.  It’s not the Holy Spirit bringing such things to remembrance.  This, dear ones, is the work of the Accuser, the very one against whom we are in need of remaining alert and sober.

So, when doubts come, and they will, put on that helmet!  Recall to mind the sure hope of salvation that is yours.  Don’t be driven to despair.  “I have called you by name, and you are Mine” (Isa 43:1)!  That is your Father’s declaration.  “He who began the good work in you is faithful to complete it” (Php 1:6).  Observe well.  Paul didn’t write that he had confidence in them, that they would remain faithful.  His confidence is in God, the One Who will perfect this work until the day of Christ Jesus, the very day, once again, that we have been considering these last few months now.  He is doing it.  That doesn’t mean you slip into complacency.  It means that you put your failures behind you, get up and keep going.  Or, to shift the image just a bit, you stand fast, unmoved by doubts, dismissive of the Accuser’s accusations, knowing – KNOWING – that you are forgiven, redeemed, established in your inheritance in heaven where moth and rust cannot destroy, and this thief can no longer come to steal it away.

The JFB Commentary records that a certain Edmunds wrote, “With head and heart right, the whole man is right.”  They observe that the unprotected head leads to error, and the unprotected heart to sin.  This is yet another aspect of this armor we wear as we keep watch.  And the protection they afford us is as complete as need be.  We are not falling into complacency and sin.  We are not taken by falsehood and doubt so as to depart the security of our Lord’s domain, trading light for darkness.  And, as I noted in my first observations, this armor is truly beautiful, clothing us in those virtues which best reflect and shine forth His glory.  Even in the midst, even under the greatest trials, as we stand fast in this faith, love, and hope, we display the glory of our Lord which is upon us and in us.  We are that army, terrible with banners (SS 6:4), awesome in that He Who is awesome manifests His majesty through our faithful witness.  And stand we shall, for He empowers us to stand, works within us that we shall stand, for we are His.

But such assurance as is ours, and it is great, is no cause for such confidence in us as would lead us to have no regard to ourselves.  We stand.  We remain diligent, and that diligence applies first and foremost to our own condition, in order that we may then be in position to aid our brother and to serve as the beacons we are designed to be, calling others out from that darkness which surrounds.  If we would stand, we must surely do so in the power of God.  Yet, this does not leave us with no part in the action, or the stillness of so standing.  If you would be such as have no doubt as to their salvation, then look to your deeds, look to your thought-life.  Matthew Henry writes, “If we have hope of salvation, let us take heed of doing any thing that shall shake our hopes, or render us unworthy of or unfit for the great salvation we hope for.”  That is the message here.  If you are of the Light, then let not your former deeds of darkness sully your heritage.  If you are sons, act like it.  Stand.

I mentioned it earlier, that as we don this armor and take our positions, we must remain mindful that the outcome, neither for ourselves nor for those we love nor for those we would simply see saved, is not ours to dictate.  It is ours to seek and pursue, yes, but as was quoted the other day, “Results are all purposed.”  We must remain mindful that the results of our watching in faith, standing firm in confident hope of salvation, and expressing His love for the lost are His to determine.  The outcome, every outcome, whether they hear and respond or whether they scorn and despise, is in His hands.  The outcome cannot become the point for us.  The point is our own faithful obedience to the One Who has saved us.  The point is to glory in that which brings Him glory, even when we are not entirely clear how this can be glorifying.  I think we have all known a degree of failure to understand when it comes to seeing how He can be glorified by so many rejecting His gracious offer.  We have an even harder time accepting that when He, in His good purpose, chooses to leave this one or that one with hardened heart unwilling to hear His good news, this, too, brings Him glory.  If He takes no pleasure in the perishing of any man, then how is it that this perishing is to His glory?  Well, in that it manifests His Justice, certainly.  But somehow, for emotional us, that doesn’t seem enough.

Well, then, how shall we respond?  I should think it is not so very far from that advice Mr. Henry gave us in regard to our inward doubts.  If we would see His glory manifest in mercy rather than justice, then let us be faithful to do those good works which our Father prepared beforehand that we might do them.  That, of course, is a lesson from another letter, but it holds.  He has set us here not merely to cower in our corner of the wall, nor even to stand as cold and uncaring sentries to keep out the forces of darkness.  No!  He has set us here to care, to love.  Remember that love is active.  It is guided by faith, expressing His character.  We are to stand, having compassion for those lost around us, seeking to the end that they might indeed live, and themselves become children of day, even as ourselves.  We are called to do so even knowing that in many cases, in the majority of cases, they will not have it.  We seek, because our Lord, the One whose image we bear, came to seek and to save.  And as to those who have been saved, we seek that they may grow straight and true.  We give heed to the call to edify our brother, to build alongside him, and to lend our aid and our strength to his effort as needed, knowing he shall do likewise in our own  need.

Each of us has our strengths.  Each of us has our weaknesses.  We are set in fellowship that our capacities may complement one another, that we might serve from that strength He has supplied, and find our weakness supplied by those with us who are strong in that in which we are weak.  No man in his armor stands alone.  He stands in company, in formation together with his brother soldiers.  It is no different for us.  We are called to fellowship for a reason, and it is because we need the strength of numbers, the tangible assurance of our fellow believer standing beside us.  As we give expression to this faith, hope, and love that is in us, we edify our brothers.  We demonstrate by our emulation of Him the very real presence of God within.  They, in turn, do the same for us.  And together, as we stand upon the walls of the kingdom, we give evidence of God’s presence to a watching world.  Whether they recognize it for what it is, or laugh at us as delusional?  That is up to God.  Should He so choose that they might see with understanding, praise God.  If it should be that He leaves them to their sins, well, praise God.

For your part, keep your helmet on.  Do not permit yourself those actions which would erode your confidence that you are in fact among the redeemed.  Look, you will no doubt stumble.  You will have your moments.  But in those moments, remember!  Remain clear that He Who has called you is faithful.  Get it in you that His word does not fail of accomplishing all His purpose, and He has called you – by name.  You may not have heard an audible voice.  I should think it is exceedingly rare that any do.  Perhaps, however, you heard that inward voice, as did I.  Or perhaps you simply discovered the truth coming off the pages of Scripture and actually registering with you.  I don’t know.  I know that the circumstances of our salvation are varied in a most wonderful degree.  Yet, however it is that we have come to Him, we now stand in confidence, in the certain hope of that salvation of which we already experience, as it were, the downpayment.

John made certain we should know this when he wrote to the churches in his care.  “I have written these things to you who believe in the name of the Son of God, so that you may know that you have eternal life” (1Jn 5:13).  This is our story, we who have been counted among the elect.  He chose us from before the beginning of creation, as His own word assures us.  And that same word clearly depicts the lengths to which He has gone to see His plans and purposes not merely kept, but falling out precisely as He has determined.  One has only to contemplate the truly startling details that thread through history to bring us from the expulsion of Adam to the Advent, and then, to the death and resurrection of our Lord, to see that God will not be shifted from His purposes.  No machination of man or devil is going to thwart Him.  As if!  And again, we have His plain and unequivocal pronouncement.  “You are Mine.  I have redeemed you.”  You know this.  Now live this.

Amen, Lord.  I seek to do so, though I so readily slip into the paths of established habit.  Strengthen me to stand.  Snap me out of my lethargy to stand as I must stand, watchful over that which You have entrusted to me, laying hold of the equipment You have provided that I might indeed stand and stand some more.