What I Believe

a. The Reformed Heart

[07/20/20]

Looking at my section title of “Reformed and Remade” it seems I have done a fair amount on the subject already as I finished the last subsection.  But perhaps there is yet something to be said under this heading.  The first and easiest thing for me to state is that there is this division between the reforming of the spirit of the man and the reforming of his body.  The one begins at the first moment of salvation, whereas the other transpires at the end of this age. The one, at least from our point of perception, is a gradual, ongoing process not unlike the process of maturing.  In point of fact, it could just as easily be taken as a process of maturing.  The other is of an instant, accomplished in the twinkling of an eye.

Let me break this first category of the reforming of our spirit into a couple of subcategories; those being in regard to the heart and the mind.  And let me further preface the considerations that follow with a reprise of my earlier comments regarding distinctions of soul and spirit.  In brief, I do not, for the purposes of this discussion, make much of any distinction between the two.  I recognize that there are particular passages in Scripture that do address these as separate aspects of our humanity, but I also recognize that by and large, the usage is such as leaves the two relatively synonymous.

So, what is there that remains to be said of the reforming of the heart of the believer?  There is something of a motif in the record of Scripture as concerns the hardened heart of man.  The chief exemplar of this condition is that Pharaoh who reigned in Egypt at the time Moses was appointed to lead God’s people out of their captivity and into the Promised Land.  Repeatedly in the record of Exodus, we hear that Pharaoh’s heart was hardened, and while this was assuredly a matter of his own choices, yet there is also this point:  “The LORD hardened Pharaoh’s heart” (Ex 9:12).  “Go to Pharaoh, for I have hardened his heart and the heart of his servants, that I may perform these signs of Mine among them, and that you may tell in the hearing of your son, and of your grandson, how I made a mockery of the Egyptians, and how I performed My signs among them; that you may know that I am the LORD” (Ex 10:1-2).

Let’s be quite clear about this:  God was not being the least bit capricious in choosing to do as He chose to do.  He did not just pick on the Egyptians as a foil for His magnificence.  He was not just using them as props.  This comes, really, in nearly complete opposition to His selection of Israel as His people.  As they had repeatedly to be reminded, they had nothing about them that recommended them to Him.  They were the least of people, effectively a landless collection of subsistence farmers, dependent upon their host nations for support.  That may seem harsh to the ear, but it does rather capture the essence of their roots.  Abram departs Ur for points unknown.  By very definition, at least as we understand societal structures today, he’s wandering through lands presently in the possession of other people.  He’s grazing his flocks on the grasses of other nations.  He purchases his way, at least for the most part, but he’s not averse to deception, either.  His children are not much different in this regard, nor are those with whom they deal.  It seems rather a cultural norm for that time and place, whatever one’s tribal affiliations.

How has Israel come to be in Egypt in the first place?  They are there of necessity.  Their proper abode at that time was well to the northeast, but had come under the famine that engulfed the region.  Fortunately, God had prepared the way, sending Joseph by the most unlikely of routes to be present for their arrival, and to grant them a rich grazing land in Egypt.  Now we know from the record that if anything, the Egyptians looked down on shepherds even more than Israel would in later years.  Sure, park out there in Goshen, and please remain there.  We’d as soon not associate with you, although we’ll thank you for the meat and the wool.

The history of Israel during and after the Exodus does little to alter the case.  Repeatedly, they show themselves unworthy of the God who called them out of Egypt.  They forget Him, go off after foreign gods, seek to be like the nations around them, apparently forgetting that being like the nations around them is exactly what had led to God’s judgment on the nations around them. 

That circles me neatly back to Egypt and Pharaoh.  Here was a nation that had, by its practices and beliefs, earned the severe wrath of God.  They had abused those who were God’s people.  They had taken the life of man in that they were insisting that the Jews kill their newborn males.  They set up all manner of dark gods to worship, and even sought to elevate Pharaoh himself to the level of godhood.  This could not stand.  This could not go unpunished.  God’s Justice and God’s Holiness demanded action of Him, and He took action.

Still, it is shocking for us to hear these words, and hear them repeatedly.  “But the LORD hardened Pharaoh’s heart.” (Ex 10:20, Ex 10:27, Ex 11:10, Ex 14:8).  It’s like a drumbeat through the narrative.  Pharaoh, it seems, didn’t stand a chance.  How cruel of God to leave him no place of repentance.  This may be how we view the record, but that’s not the whole story.  Pharaoh, for all that God hardened his heart, chose his own course.  It is often said that God, in hardening the heart, does not coerce the sinner into the course of his sin, but rather withholds the mercy of grace – the unearned favor – of acting to counter the will of the sinner.  Even that, I’m thinking, doesn’t quite satisfy our sense of propriety, nor does it fully capture the situation.  So, let me try to expand on that just a bit.

Perhaps if we reflect on the course of our own salvation, we might see the reality of events a bit more clearly, and recognize that what we see happening in others is not so very different from our own case.  Many, if not all of us, recall a day when faith was far from our conscious thought.  We may even, like Paul, have been rather opposed to faith.  We chose to do as we pleased, and however little we may have thought in those terms at the time, what we chose was invariably sinful.  How my fingers wanted to insert an ‘almost’ in there, as if there remained some vestigial goodness that we could point to even then.  But that is not the case.  Even our best acts, being acts undertaken in unbelief, and as such undertaken for motives that were entirely in the wrong, were utterly sinful.  They were a thumb in the eye of God, for however much they may have managed to display some sort of righteousness, it was righteousness in defiance.  It was self-righteousness, or worse yet, a righteousness we attributed to other sources we considered to be gods.

[07/21/20]

Moving into the New Testament, we find a similar concern expressed about the Apostles, “for they had not gained any insight from the incident of the loaves, but their heart was hardened” (Mk 6:52).  And again, but a little later, Jesus hears their concern about lunch, and says, “Why do you discuss the fact that you have no bread?  Do you not yet see or understand?  Do you have a hardened heart?  Having eyes, do you not see?  And having ears do you not hear?  Do you not remember when I broke the five loaves for the five thousand, how many baskets full of broken pieces you picked up?” (Mk 8:17-19).  We see clearly in these verses that heart and mind are closely linked in biblical thought.  That is to say that feeling and understanding ought to be in accord with one another, and those ought to also accord with the report of the senses.

But Paul, in discussing the failure of the Jews in general to believe in Jesus observes the reason for that failure.  “Those who were chosen obtained it, and the rest were hardened” (Ro 11:7).  Here, too, there is connection to the data obtained by our senses.  “Just as it is written, ‘God gave them a spirit of stupor, eyes to see not and ears to hear not, down to this very day’” (Ro 11:8).  Here, then, we see the mutual involvement of the individual in his choices and God in His determination.  Whom He chose, saw and heard, and what they saw and heard, their mind recognized and their heart followed.  Those whom He did not choose?  They failed to see what was before them, failed to hear what was said.  Their judgment was clouded, and the whole business of salvation just passed them by.

I have to stress that this is something in which God has the determining say.  I want to choose my words carefully here. He does not so act as to leave the individual a mere puppet moved by forces beyond his control.  Arguably, the issue is exactly that He does.  But then, the believer is no more a mere puppet moved by forces, even if those movements be for his best good.  We remain moral agents, capable of choice in our actions and therefore responsible for our choices.  At one and the same time, our capacity to choose what is good for reasons that are good – for the act itself is not the moral determinant but the act along with its motivation – is so atrophied as to be nonexistent unless and until God interferes and implants in us a reformed heart.  For the unbeliever, even the most devout Jew, “to this day whenever Moses is read, a veil lies over their heart” (2Co 3:15).  But for the believer, Jew and Gentile alike, “whenever a man turns to the Lord, the veil is taken away” (2Co 3:16).

Do you see what has happened here?  We were blinkered, incapable of loving God both because we were rather busily rejecting Him and because we could not truly draw nigh.  The Jews, from those earliest times at the base of Mount Sinai, found nearness to Him a matter for dread.  True, they had the pillar of His presence ever present and in sight at their camp, but the more thorough revealing of His presence atop Mount Sinai left them in dread.  The rumbling of His voice they could not bear.  This was largely a realization of the vast gulf between His holiness and their sinfulness.  That, I have to say, is a realization we could stand to regain in our own day.  While we have the incredible gift of being called friends of God, and that by God Himself, yet we are at risk of discovering in ourselves that familiarity still breeds contempt.  We take our friendship with Him rather more lightly, I think, than perhaps is wise.  We presume upon His friendship, and assume that because we’re best buds, He will no longer be too concerned with our sins.  And so, we become less concerned with our sins, and that is a great danger indeed.  Wherefore, we have the many admonitions of the Scriptures to be attentive to our sanctification and keenly aware of our sin.  “But encourage one another day after day, as long as it is called ‘Today’, lest any one of you be hardened by the deceitfulness of sin” (Heb 3:13).

What a gracious call that is!  There is first a warning for the individual.  You, dear believer, are at risk of becoming hardened.  And how?  By the deceitfulness of sin.  Let us take care here.  This is by no means declaring a possibility of the one saved by faith falling away fully and finally.  This is not, as I once believed, evidence that the believer can lose his salvation.  Away with such thoughts!  God is much greater than that, and His word does not return to Him void, without having accomplished all His good purpose.  What He has begun in you, He is most assuredly faithful to complete, even though you repeatedly show yourself unfaithful.

So why the concern at all, if He’s going to take care of it anyway?  Well, if nothing else, there ought to be the sense of something far worse, really than mere embarrassment when we finally come before Him.  There is the theory that the believer will not in fact stand before the throne of judgment at the end of days, but I am not convinced that this is the case.  I do believe we will stand there.  I do believe we will discover ourselves held to account for every idle word, every sinful act, every sinful thought.  Any last shred of supposition that we might skate through on some slender blade of merit shall at last be dispensed with, and we shall know the full weight of our need for mercy.  Fortunately, reformed of heart and mind, we shall also know the full weight of grace that has been shown us.  Yes, Lord, all of these things I have done against You, even knowingly, and for all of them, I am beyond ashamed.  I am fully deserving of every punishment You might choose to inflict.  The full weight of Your fully righteous law is rightly upon me in this moment.  I can offer only this:  Jesus paid it all.

You know, I am not so sure we shall even be able to risk such an answer on our own behalf.  I have a strong feeling that we shall discover ourselves bowed and weeping at our sin, even knowing by faith that we have been forgiven, and the only thing that shall pull us out of our despair in that moment will be to hear Jesus Himself saying, “This one is Mine, Father.  I have paid his debt to this court.”  Oh!  The agony of that moment!  How we shall at last begin to grasp the enormity of Jesus’ pain on the Cross, not so much from the nails or from the wounds inflicted by scourging, but from the weight of that sin laid upon Him as He Himself stood in our place before the full wrath of God against sin.  Was it merely (merely!) the gulf of momentary separation from eternal fellowship that so pierced His soul?  That alone would be agony beyond our capacity to truly comprehend.  That would also, I have to say, suggest a change in the Godhead, which would render it an impossibility  if God is to continue being God.  But the full weight of the guilt of all mankind through all history, the full awareness of every last violence done to the Law by man was there in review and in detail.  Think of how Jesus wept for just the rejection of the population of Jerusalem at that day.  Now expand that sorrow across all humanity from Adam on down to the generations that will follow after our own.  Then, remember that in spite of His humanity, in spite of His bearing our judgment before God on the cross, He remains God.  He remains perfectly holy, as incapable of bearing the presence of sin as the Father.  And yet, there He is, draped with the sins of our own doing and by our own doing.

And still, come that final moment, He willingly looks back upon that act – to the degree that there can be a looking back in the timelessness of eternity – willingly looks upon our abject self, and says, “Father, this one is Mine.  I have paid it.  Please release him.”  Whatever hardness might remain in our heart must surely be shattered once for all in that moment!  Who would not love such a One as this?  Who would not emerge fully and finally devoted to such a One as this?

But it doesn’t entirely wait to be discovered in that moment.  This is a process already begun.  Again, taking into account the timelessness of eternity, it is in fact a process already completed; only, we haven’t experienced the completeness as yet.  Hear the plea of Ezekiel, which is in fact the plea of the Lord to His people in the midst of their punishment for unrepented sin.  “Cast away from you all your transgressions which you have committed, and make yourselves a new heart and a new spirit!  For why will you die, O house of Israel?  For I have no pleasure in the death of anyone who dies.  Therefore, repent and live” (Eze 18:31-32).  This is rather more than a call to go make sacrifices for atonement.  After all, atonement, particularly that of ox and sheep and the like, could only address the past, to the degree that it could in fact address anything.  It could not change the heart.  Neither can we take that casting away as being somehow erasing our own accounts, cancelling out the sins of the past by dint of future sinlessness.  The key is in repentance, in a true change of heart resulting in a real change of course.

There is a stress here upon the personal involvement in this process of renewal and reformation.  I have said it often enough, and probably in the course of this study, but the fact remains:  We cannot do it without God, and God will not do it without us.  Where there is no personal effort, no personal pursuit of a true, heartfelt and exercised repentance with its concomitant pursuit of true, heartfelt and exercised holiness, God is not simply going to tap you with His fairy wand and make it so of a moment.  The calls to personal involvement in sanctification are too many and too constant to allow for a lifestyle of, “let go, and let God.”  Sounds nice, and it would certainly be a great deal easier on us, but that’s not the real message.  We might better suggest, “Don’t let go of God.”  But even then, we should have to add, “And know that He won’t let go of you.”

Here the later part of God’s message to this same people in their same situation.  “Moreover, I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit within you; and I will remove the heart of stone from your flesh and give you a heart of flesh” (Eze 36:26).  That message continues, and it is worthwhile to continue in it.  “I will put My Spirit within you and cause you to walk in My statutes, and you will be careful to observe My ordinances.  And you will live in the land that I gave to your forefathers; so you will be My people, and I will be your God.  Moreover, I will save you from all your uncleanness; and I will call for the grain and multiply it, and I will not bring a famine on you” (Eze 36:27-29).  But hear the end of it.  “I am not doing this for your sake, let it be known to you.  Be ashamed and confounded for your ways, O house of Israel!” (Eze 36:32).

Personal responsibility remains, even though it is God Himself Who says, “I WILL”.  It is still on you to repent, to be ashamed and shocked at yourself.  I want to circle back, though, to that verse from Hebrews, because personal responsibility is not sufficient for the believer, if we hear that message aright.  Hear it again.  “Encourage one another day after day” (Heb 3:13a).  Look out for your brother, and know that he will look out for you.  This is not a covering over of sin, but an urging on of one another.  If you see your brother sinning, admonish him, call him back from it.  Perhaps he will repent and return, and you will have had your part in rescuing your brother.  Pray not only that your own heart remain softened, but pray for your brother’s heart to remain soft as well.  Encourage one another in the effort of sanctification.  Encourage one another to persevere in this reformed condition. 

The heart that has been softened can yet experience hardening.  Again, I have to stress that where we are in fact considering a believer saved by faith implanted by God, this is not a question of losing salvation.  But it is, even so, a question of experiencing depths of sorrow to come which need not have been yours.  It needn’t end that way.  You are no longer bound by your devotion so sin, that you must keep adding to the weight of sin.  You are now possessed of this new heart, upon which is written the whole of God’s law that you might in fact walk in obedience to it – not perfectly, for perfection simply is not in us, but more fully day by day.

[07/22/20]

Any discussion of the reformed heart must be incomplete if it does not address the message of Jeremiah 31.  “Behold days are coming when I will make a new covenant with the house of Israel and with the house of Judah, not like the covenant which I made with their fathers in the day I took them by the hand to bring them out of the land of Egypt, My covenant which they broke, although I was a husband to them.  But this is the covenant which I will make with the house of Israel after those days, I will put My law within them and on their heart I will write it; and I will be their God, and they shall be My people.  They will not teach again, each man his neighbor and each man his brother, saying, ‘Know the LORD’, for they will all know Me, from the least of them to the greatest of them, for I will forgive their iniquity, and their sin I will remember no more.” (Jer 31:31-34).  This is the message to which the author of Hebrews points not once, but twice, in reminding the redeemed remnant in his day of their position.  On the second occasion, he adds, “For by one offering He has perfected for all time those who are sanctified” (Heb 10:14), and also, “Now where there is forgiveness of these things, there is no longer any offering for sin” (Heb 10:18).

The message is this:  The old system is done away because the need for the old system is done away.  The one offering that mattered has already happened.  The Law is no longer a matter of referring to external documents and striving to manage external obedience.  It is now written on your heart.  It has been made a part of the very fabric of your being.  That is the sum of this promised covenant, a promise already fulfilled in Christ, and therefore in those who have believed in Christ.

In Him, there is forgiveness of these things.  In Him we have come to know what is pleasing to God, because in Him, the Holy Spirit has been sent to abide in us, to testify to us of what has been done, of what that message in Jeremiah means to us (Heb 10:15).  Of course, the author of Hebrews writes to a believing remnant among the Jews, and for them, this must have been a far more significant and far more difficult truth to bear.  How long had the faithful in Israel striven against every opposing force, internal and external alike, that sought to eliminate the ancient faith?  And now, here was this call to abandon much of the practice that defined that faith.  Is it any wonder that many struggled to believe, and having believed, struggled the more to continue in belief?  The whole of society around them decried their newfound faith as idolatry, as abandoning the God of Israel.  But the reality was in fact that those who stood against them were the idolaters.  They were the ones who would, in a few short years, commit crimes most heinous, all the while insisting that the God who had built His temple in their midst would in no wise abandon them.  And that, to their thinking, meant He would not punish their sins, however grievous.  They could do as they chose with impunity, or so they thought.  Their hearts had hardened.

Here is a caution for the church of our own day.  Much of society, I should tend to think the vast majority at this point, have rejected God.  We see daily that opposition to the Church that bears His name mounts as godlessness and abandonment become the order of the day.  Even within the Church, one discovers many voices prompting an abandonment of Christian theology in favor of getting along with the society outside.  Too much, it becomes a country club seeking donor funding, rather than an outpost of heaven, seeking transformation.  The heart of the Church, as much as the heart of any individual within the Church, requires reforming, requires God’s tender attentions, lest it become hardened, and be discovered to be false claimants, poseurs intent on poisoning the faith of the faithful.  Come the hard times, and they will go out from any claim of Christian faith.  “They went out from us, but they were not really of us; for if they had been of us, they would have remained with us; but they went out, in order that it might be shown that they all are not of us” (1Jn 2:19).

I am mindful that this same sentiment might very well have been expressed by the Pharisees and Sadducees as the new covenant of Christianity began to take hold.  The same sentiment might very well be expressed by many a denomination today as the faithful remnant within its ranks determines to hold fast.  I think of the article I read yesterday, regarding the Episcopalian bishop who refuses to bow to the current socialist agenda that has invaded his church.  The ruling class in the church may have decided to embrace every sort of sexual sin as acceptable, but he could not, in good conscience, concur, and must stand for his convictions and for the truth of God, come what may.  The Law, you see, is written on his heart.  The obedience comes from inner strengthening by the very Spirit of God, and like Martin Luther before the council, he could only confess the truth of God, for he could do no other.

What of us?  We are bombarded with insistent urgings that we privatize our faith, that we treat all belief systems as inherently equal in value.  We are told to accept that our particular form of faith is merely a matter of opinion, no more and possibly less valid than any other.  We may be urged from the pulpit to pursue courses of action and behavior that are not in fact aligned with the law written upon our hearts.  I am not, by any stretch, suggesting a new era of crusades, but I will gladly suggest that many of the urgings of social justice today are of about the same merit as the urgings to a social gospel in past years, which is to say, pretty much no merit whatsoever.  These are fine sounding sentiments that in fact seek to dislodge us from the foundation of the Gospel, and in doing so, to achieve that which the devil could not achieve at Calvary; the final demise of God’s people.

But we have this assurance to hold onto.  This new heart we discover within ourselves is not a matter of our own doing.  It is not an emotional commitment we have worked up in ourselves.  Such emotionally-derived decisions are fleeting and ephemeral things, subject to change without notice.  We were watching another of these British restoration projects the other night, and the young woman who had taken on the work commented to the effect that, “I make all my decisions from the heart, and my mind has to scrabble to catch up.”  Oh, isn’t that lovely?  Isn’t that heroic?  Well, no, not really.  It’s rather suicidal, however well it may have worked out on that particular occasion.  It is certainly at odds with what Christian faith brings to bear on the life of the believer.

Let me expand a bit.  Yes, the heart, the seat of emotion, is clearly involved in faith, intimately involved.  If there is no emotional commitment to this new life, then there is no new life.  Let’s be clear about that.  But, if emotions are driving us, then we have the wrong driver in the driver’s seat.  We have handed the keys to our five-year-old self, and taken our seat in the back with no seatbelt on.  It’s a suicide run, if ever there was one, and will not end well for anybody involved.  Decisions made on the sole basis of aroused emotions will falter and crumble to dust as the emotions subside.  There is nothing there of commitment.  Now it may well be that one will supply commitment later, and even doggedly pursue an ill-advised course with great fervor.  But even with all that, it remains an unwise course, assured of spectacular failure.  The failure may not consist in failing to reach the stated goal.  It may very well consist in reaching that goal, and discovering too late that the goal was entirely off.

As concerns our faith, there is great value in asking oneself who is in the driver’s seat of our faith?  Is it our emotions?  It may not be the fervor of newfound faith anymore.  It could be bullheaded pride, demanding we stay the course as a matter of saving face.  But it is not saving face to which we have been called; it is saving faith.  That faith may often require us to reassess our position, reassess our thinking, based on new information.  But you see, that is not the work of the heart, but rather the mind.  That requires that the mind is given pride of place to inform the decisions of the heart, to override the emotional burst with cool reason.  And that, I observe, makes a fitting transition to our next topic.

b. The Reformed Mind

[07/22/20]

Turning from the heart to the mind, it must be admitted that at least from the perspective of the Old Testament, it is not any great change of focus.  The distinction, however, is there if one seeks it out.  “The mind of the intelligent seeks knowledge” (Pr 15:14a).  And that verse which was one of the first I ever thought to highlight in my Bible:  “The mind of man plans his way, but the LORD directs his steps” (Pr 16:9).  And David cries out to God, “Examine me, O LORD, and try me; test my mind and my heart.  For Thy lovingkindness is before my eyes, and I have walked in Thy truth” (Ps 26:2-3).

How shall we distinguish the two?  I would maintain that even within the realm of Jewish thought there is the distinction between the feelings and emotions of the heart and the knowledge and wisdom of the mind.  As well, the will, the faculty of choice, would seem to lie with the mind, although there things become a bit blurry, don’t they?  “The steadfast of mind Thou wilt keep in perfect peace, because he trusts in Thee” (Isa 26:3).   You can see in that already the marks of faith.  Further, Isaiah looks to a time when “the mind of the hasty will discern the truth, and the tongue of the stammerers will hasten to speak clearly” (Isa 32:4).  See, then, a mark of the mind of faith.  It is not hasty to chase after every new idea.  It will take its counsel, it will test the thoughts and weigh them against the truth of God.  It will seek discernment before claiming insight.

But know well that the LORD of hosts, who tests the righteous, sees both mind and heart (Jer 20:12a).  He not only sees, but He also transforms.  It is not merely our heart that needed reformation, so that our feelings might be freed to love the Lord.  The mind also requires reformation, that we might function in accordance with Truth.  Faith, you see, is not simply a heart matter, although the heart is most assuredly fully involved in faith.  Faith appeals as well, perhaps even primarily, to the mind.  Faith being reasonable, it appeals to the faculties of reason.  It presents to us evidence, and that evidence is offered to all indiscriminately.

This drives to the core of the Christian message, the promise of the Gospel.  The Good News is to be declared to one and all.  There is none to whom we could point and say that he is unworthy of hearing this news; he is beyond hope of redemption.  That is not the same as saying that there are none who are in fact beyond hope of redemption, but that status is not ours to see with clarity, and it is not a determination to be made, certainly, when it comes to presenting the gospel to a world in need.  The parable of the sower and the seed (Mt 13:3-23).  Observe that this is a parable in word, and also in example.  The message of that parable was declared to all within hearing at the time.  In situ, it speaks of the ministry of Jesus Himself.  He is the sower, and he sowed indiscriminately, showering all with His words and His deeds.  But the soil varied.  Some was rocky, and some was shallow.  Some was marauded by birds, and some by weeds.  But occasionally, there was a good patch, and what that good patch produced made up for all the rest.

Now observe:  There was a great multitude listening to His words on this occasion, and they all presumably heard what He said.  But they didn’t all get it.  Even the disciples, it seems, didn’t get it.  That must strike us, from our place of faith, as rather incredible.  How could they fail to grasp the meaning?  It’s so obvious!  What we fail to recall is that there was a time in our own course of life when these words would have fallen upon our ears to no effect.  It might have sounded nice enough, and we might well acknowledge the validity of the image He paints.  Yes, indeed, that is just how it is to farm here.  But what’s Your point?  And with the disciples, we might even be inclined to ask, even assuming we grasped the sense of His parable, “Why do You speak to them in parables?” (Mt 13:10).

You know, at least following in Matthew’s account, nowhere does it actually say they failed to understand the point of that parable.  That was not their question.  Their question was why this method of teaching, for they could clearly see around them that many were not grasping the meaning.  Countering this observation is the fact that Jesus opts to explain the parable to His disciples.  Yet, notice the introductory thought before He gets to the explanation.  “Blessed are your eyes, because they see; and your ears, because they hear” (Mt 13:16).  This was, it seems to me, an acknowledgement that they had already grasped at least the broader implications of His words.  But He takes the time to give detailed exposition of His message and its meaning, to make sure they understand correctly.  He then proceeds to another parable to reinforce the meaning.

Message:  The seed of the gospel preached is good.  Whether it takes root or not is not your responsibility.  Over and over that point has to be reiterated.  If it fails to take root, it is not because the seed was insufficient, nor is it because you sowed incorrectly.  The fault lies in the soil.  Some are given to hear with understanding.  Others hear only a pleasant tale, and fail utterly to make application.  Wisdom and understanding are lacking, and they are lacking because the mind is not reformed.  And recognize this plainly:  “And such were some of you; but you were washed, but you were sanctified, but you were justified in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ, and in the Spirit of God” (1Co 6:11).  Three changes noted, and all but the first are passive – you received this action, but you did not do it.  Only the washing is excepted, and even there, we only get as far as middle voice, with the implication of mutual action.  You washed, yes, but apart from God’s partnership in the matter, it would just be a bath.

This is both the source and the evidence of a reformed mind within.  That mind has been reformed by the justifying, sanctifying work of Christ, achieved in Him, applied by the Holy Spirit, and all at the determination of the Father.  Because He chose, you discover yourself counted amongst those blessed to see and hear, and to do so with understanding.  Get that clear.  All who were there that day heard Jesus.  All who lived in that time and place saw what He did in the course of ministry.  Move later in that brief period and we can effectively say that all Jerusalem saw the walking, living, breathing result of Lazarus resurrected.  For all that, all would see and hear of the shockingly empty tomb some short while later, as the One who raised Lazarus was Himself raised.  But not all who saw and heard understood.  Indeed, the record shows that it was a rather insignificant minority who truly got it.  By the time of Acts 2, the Church in its nascent form was but a ragtag assembly of some 120 persons.  That might count as a fair-sized congregation today, but it would border on unsustainable.  Yet this small group, being of reformed mind, soon grew massively.  Within weeks, they had added thousands to their number.  Within months, under circumstances I don’t think anybody would have chosen for themselves, they had exploded out of Jerusalem and into the surrounding nations.  Within years, they had permeated the whole of the empire of Rome and beyond.

What was happening?  Per the prophecies of old, eyes were being opened and ears unplugged.  This had had its fulfillment in the ministry of Jesus in a very physical fashion, as the blind indeed had their sight restored, and the deaf came to hear.  But that physical restoration, as marvelous as it was, wasn’t the point.  It was a sign.  It was a sign, first and foremost, that this Jesus who had performed such marvels was indeed the appointed Messiah, sent by God to redeem for Himself a people from amongst all tribes and nations, a holy, royal priesthood to proclaim the glories of His being.

But it was more than just a sign about Jesus personally.  It was a physical parable of the change wrought by faith.  Here is the foundation of a mind reformed.  After all, the majority of those living at the time saw Jesus.  They heard at least some portion of His teaching.  They were exposed to His thoughts and deeds.  Those who rejected Him did not do so out of ignorance, or on the basis of lacking data.  No.  The problem was a mind unreformed.  The incoming data hit a wall, not of ignorance, but of willful suppression of the truth.  That’s the message Paul declares at the outset of Romans.  “For the wrath of God is revealed from heaven against all ungodliness and unrighteousness of mend, who suppress the truth in unrighteousness, because that which is known about God is evident within them; for God made it evident to them” (Ro 1:18-19).  I could go on with that passage, but this suffices to make the point.  The problem was not lack of evidence, but suppression of evidence, willful denial of implications.  Those who refused to believe on Jesus did not do so for lack of opportunity, but for preference given to sinning.

[07/24/20]

As concerns the mind, the New Testament repeatedly contrasts the focus of the reformed mind and that of the former life of the believer, which is to say, the habits of the unbeliever.  It’s there to be seen when Peter, fresh from confessing Jesus as the Son of God, proceeds to tell Jesus He is wrong about the idea that He was going to die.  Imagine!  A mere mortal thinking to rebuke God Himself!  Such effrontery is unthinkable, isn’t it?  Apart from the fact that we tend to do so with shocking regularity, if not with such directness.  “Peter took Him aside and began to rebuke Him, saying, ‘God forbid it, Lord!  This shall never happen to You” (Mt 16:22).  Now, I don’t suppose Peter was really thinking about his words here.  This was, as we distinguish heart and mind, a heart response.  It was the emotional reaction to this idea that his Lord, whom he had left all to follow, was going to suffer and be killed, and that, by the chief representations of Jewish religion and society.  In fairness, his response is rather understandable, and I dare say we have often responded similarly to hard news, even hard news that comes of God.

For all that, we may be inclined to rebuke God over matters far less important, like the weather, or His choices so far as governance are concerned.  If we’re honest, I suspect we discover many times when we have effectively rebuked God and told Him He was wrong.  But we are interested in this particular case with Peter, and what do we hear in response to his corrective?  “Get behind Me, Satan!”  That alone ought to set us back a bit.  What did You call me?  How can You say that, Lord?  You know I am one You Yourself called.  How can I be Satan?  How can I be even a tool of Satan?  But that is exactly the charge, and it is leveled by the Judge of all creation, who ever judges rightly.  What’s the reason for this conclusion on His part?  “You are a stumbling block to Me; for you are not setting your mind on God’s interests, but man’s” (Mt 16:23).

This draws us back to our topic of a mind renewed and reformed.  Clearly, Peter had experienced a reforming of mind, else he could not have delivered his confession in the first place.  “Flesh and blood did not reveal this to you, Simon” (Mt 16:17).  In that moment, his mind had indeed been focused on God’s interests, but something happened.  The transformation was apparently not complete.  His response to what God was doing was not in keeping with a heart and mind wholly devoted to God.  Such a heart and mind must, upon learning God’s plans, rejoice in them however incomprehensible they may be.  I think back to the demands made upon Aaron when his sons were taken from him for violating the holiness of their office and offering strange fire.  “Do not uncover your heads nor tear your clothes, so that you may not die, and that He may not become wrathful against all the congregation” (Lev 10:6).  Mourning could be taken care of by others, but as for these servants of God, they mustn’t mourn that God has preserved His glory.  We, for our part, have no place mourning that God is doing as He wills, according to His good and perfect plan.  That plan may perplex us, and may even dismay us on occasion.  But faith requires that we recognize the God Who is at work in that plan and on that basis alone, rejoice even in the midst.

I could look as well at the difference in response between Zacharias and Mary when those two were given news of their part in the work of redemption which God was achieving.  Zacharias questioned the validity of the message given him and was struck dumb for his impertinence.  At least, this would seem to be the case, although it is not said exactly that way.  But he had doubts.  “How shall I know this for certain?  For I am an old man, and my wife is advanced in years” (Lk 1:18).  The undercurrent there is that God’s word wasn’t sufficient for him.  He needed further proof.  Mary, by contrast, when she learned that she was to bear the Son of God, simply asked, “How can this be, since I am a virgin?” (Lk 1:34).  This was not doubt being expressed, but an honest question.  She knew enough about physiology to know that there were certain prerequisites to childbearing, and to have experienced such prerequisites in her unmarried state must surely be sinful, and sinfulness must surely preclude bearing a perfectly holy Son of God.  This is not, then, an expression of doubt, but an admission of incomprehension.  She doesn’t seek further proof, only further understanding.  And as such, the response she receives is far different than that which Zacharias received.  One had her mind set on God, the other had his mind set on man.  His reaction did not take God into account at all, but assumed it was down to him and his wife to fulfill what God said He was going to do.

Paul is all over this subject, and no surprise.  For one, he was one whose mind required and received significant reformation, so strong a reformation that he was moved from the column of those most vehemently opposed to this new Christian faith to the column of its strongest proponents.  Here was one who wrote of what he knew first hand!  Further, as the Apostle to the Gentiles, he knows the way his hearers think.  The Greek in particular would be keen to hear matters of the mind, of philosophy, and if they were to hear God’s Word to good purpose, it would need to address them in ways they could understand.  This is not to say the message changed to match the society in which it was spoken.  No, indeed!  Paul has one gospel, one message, one set of instruction which he preaches in every church in every land.  The Jew, the Persian, the Greek, the Roman; they all get the same good news, and with the same transformative result.  “For the mind set on the flesh is death, but the mind set on the Spirit is life and peace, because the mind set on the flesh is hostile toward God; for it does not subject itself to the law of God, for it is not even able to do so; and those who are in the flesh cannot please God” (Ro 8:6-8).

Understand this.  This includes our fleshly attempts to walk according to the demands of God’s Law.  It is beyond us.  It was ever beyond us.  The problem is, you see, that as we set ourselves to obey the Law, we, like Zacharias, look at the task in light of our own capacities and manage to leave God out of the picture.  He becomes no more than the Judge, watching passively to see how we do, and ready to punish us when we fail.  But that’s not the gospel message, is it?  No!  The gospel message is that our debt to the court of heaven has been paid.  Our obedience is not a matter of main strength of conviction, but a matter of the very Spirit of God Himself having taken up residence.  It is the result of God Himself working in us, both to will and to work for His good pleasure (Php 2:12).  This gets us at both the means and the motive.  The means is God’s strength, God’s Spirit supplying as we proceed about our striving.  We are not passive in this obedience, but we are most assuredly out of our depth apart from God.  But note the end of that verse.  It is done for His good pleasure.  That’s why He’s involved in the work.  It is also the appropriate motivation for our striving to comply, our hand in the work of sanctification.  It is done not for fear of retribution should we fail, but out of a love for God that seeks His good pleasure. 

There is the motivation of a mind set on the Spirit rather than the flesh.  The mind set on the flesh can only perceive the capacities of the flesh, and the perfect obedience that remains the requirement of God’s holiness is far and away beyond those capacities.  Thus, if there is striving at all, it must either be towards a significantly lowered standard in order that we might convince ourselves of compliance or towards despair upon recognizing that compliance is beyond us to achieve.  But the mind set on the Spirit recognizes that we have not been left alone to pursue this course.  Indeed, while it won’t happen apart from our active involvement, it really doesn’t depend on our actions.  It depends on God, and God has already declared the end from the beginning.  “We know that when we see Him, we shall be as He is” (1Jn 3:2).  In the meantime, we have peace, knowing that in spite of our present imperfections, we are indeed sons of God by His own choosing.

And so, later in that letter to the church in Rome, Paul writes, “Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, that you may prove what the will of God is, that which is good and acceptable and perfect” (Ro 12:2).  Hearing that, how swiftly do your thoughts turn to considering the effort, and how you are to achieve this transformative renewal?  Oh!  What must I do to produce this marvelous transformation?  We’re like that rich young ruler that came to Jesus asking, “What shall I do to inherit eternal life?” (Lk 18:18).  What must I do to be saved?  Oh, he was ready enough to tick off his compliance to Mosaic Law.  Yes, I’ve done this and I’ve done that.  Already, his self-assessment was lacking a bit of clarity.  But it also shows our typical thinking.  If I’ve done a, b, and c, it’s probably okay that I’m a bit short of d.  But deep down, we know it’s not okay.  Deep down, this young man knew that his compliance to date was insufficient, else he wouldn’t have been asking the question.  He was still looking at his own strength to do the deed, and Jesus, by adept answer, brought him face to face with his own weakness.  And he couldn’t bear it.

His thinking was still conformed to this world.  His thoughts were still on his own riches, his own comfort.  His thoughts as concerned eternal life were thoughts on this footing.  My, that would be nice, wouldn’t it?  And let’s hope it’s an eternal life with the same creature comforts I’ve grown accustomed to!  Both his interest and his conception of who to obtain his interest were utterly worldly, entirely informed by the flesh.  Jesus called him to look beyond, to seek God and see Him at work in his own situation.  And he couldn’t do it, at least not at that juncture.  What became of him later, of course, we cannot say, for Scripture does not say.  Perhaps God continued to work on him until he could, in fact, seek the kingdom on the kingdom’s terms rather than his own.

I observe, as well, that as Paul lays out the practices of faith for us to observe, he lays out a practice that has the mind fully engaged.  The renewed mind is not a blank, thoughtless mind.  It is not a departing from the efforts of reason.  I find it shocking when I come across folks who have become convinced that somehow rational thought is opposed to godly thought.  They build this fabrication on the thin evidence of Paul’s discussion with the Corinthians.  He speaks against the wisdom of the world, yes, against worldly cleverness and sophistry.  Because such thinking does not bring knowledge of God (1Co 1:21).  But the issue isn’t with thinking per se.  The issue is with the nature of that thinking.  It’s the thinking of the self-reliant, man centered humanitarian – a sort of thinking all to familiar to us in our own day.  Yet, to this same church in this same letter, Paul lays heavy emphasis on the cognitive faculties.  Face it, the whole of the Bible, being written in words and imparted as wisdom that requires actually thinking upon, emphasizes the cognitive faculties.  The heart unguided by mind is a wild thing, and unlikely to ever arrive at wisdom.  I should note the obverse, while I’m at it.  The mind uninformed by the heart is a cold and lifeless thing, certain of the facts but divorced from compassion.   Neither presents a whole man, whether we consider it in the flesh or in the spirit.

But come back.  Here was a church particularly focused on what they perceived to be spiritual pursuits.  Oh, these displays of spirituality were marvelous!  Look how they could speak in other languages.  Hear how many of them could make prophetic pronouncements.  See how marvelously every gift of the Spirit was being employed.  Yes, says Paul.  I’ve looked.  And I’m rather embarrassed for you.  For your every exercise of these gifts is fleshly.  You seek not God’s glory but your own.  You do not seek to help your brother mature but rather, to demonstrate your superiority, and this is most ungodly use of God’s gifts.  As such, he observes, “If I pray in a tongue, my spirit prays, but my mind is unfruitful.  What then?  I shall pray with the spirit and I shall pray with the mind also; I shall sing with the spirit and I shall sing with my mind also.  Otherwise if you bless in the spirit only, how will the one who fills the place of the ungifted say the ‘Amen’ at your giving of thanks since he does not know what you are saying?” (1Co 14:14-16).  Observe.  Paul is not saying that he shall oscillate between two modes.  He is not, if you read closely, even saying he shall use tongues at all.  His point is rather this:  praying or singing in comprehensible shared language does not preclude spirituality, nor does praying or singing in some unknown tongue automatically constitute spirituality.  Face it.  If this gift of tongues is operating as is generally supposed, you have no more idea what you are saying than those who hear you.  Some count that a bonus.  It is supposed this somehow slips your words past the devil because he doesn’t understand them, either, but that is a rather fanciful idea.

The point of tongues is not to avoid comprehension, but to aid it.  If it is not serving that purpose, then it is being misused.  The point of prophecy is not to excite goosebumps and demonstrate our holiness.  The point is to inform and edify.  Thus, Paul continues, “in the church I desire to speak five words with my mind that I may instruct others also, rather than ten thousand words in a tongue” (1Co 14:19).  It would be tempting to say that by this Paul indicates that tongues aren’t really for use in a church setting at all, but that’s not where he goes with it.  He does, however, indicate that there ought certainly to be interpretation (1Co 14:27).  In other words, it ought to edify.  It ought to address the mind.  If it does not, then it does not serve a useful purpose.

Turning to Ephesus we hear a similar message to that given to Rome.  “This I say therefore, and affirm together with the Lord, that you walk no longer just as the Gentiles also walk, in the futility of their mind” (Eph 4:17).  Don’t conform.  Don’t let society at large tell you how you ought to think.  They don’t know.  They’re walking in darkness, and would you, child of light, be led by them?  Far be it from you!  For your part, “be renewed in the spirit of your mind, and put on the new self, which in the likeness of God has been created in righteousness and holiness of the truth” (Eph 4:23-24).

[07/25/20]

This really gives us a sense of that already done but not yet realized aspect of our life of faith.  The new self in the likeness of God has been created.  This is already done, already our true condition.  Yet, the call remains to be renewed in mind, to put on this new self.  It is already done, but we have yet to enter into the full realization of it, or the full actualization, of you like.  This is not about the resurrection body, but about the mind, the seat of reason and will alike.  It would be tempting to call it a state of mind, but it’s more than that.  It’s more than merely a habit formed, as well; although both state of mind and formed habit are a part of it.  Think about it.  God is Who He Is in His essence – a point I’ve hammered since the outset of this whole exercise.  He cannot not be Who He Is, the way He is.

We tend to make this our excuse in our fallenness.  Oh, I can’t help but do that.  It’s just who I am.  But the message of the gospel is no, that’s who you were.  Now, you are a new creature made in the image of God.  Understand, you were always an image bearer, in spite of the distorting effect of sin on that image.  But it’s not about your physical body.  How could it be?  God is Spirit (Jn 4:24a).  It’s about your own essence.  It’s about a change to the operating system.  You’ve had a firmware upgrade, and this new BIOS doesn’t function like the old one.  It doesn’t think in the same way, doesn’t assess things in the same way, doesn’t direct events in the same way.  It is a new creation in the image of God.  It thinks like God thinks, assesses as God assesses, acts as God acts.

Don’t go overboard with this.  We have not become little gods in our own right, fully imbued with the whole knowledge and power of God Himself.  God would be a fool to grant such a thing, given our present condition.  There comes that time, when we have arrived home in heaven, that perhaps our knowledge is given full expanse, but even then, I suspect, we shall learn that there are things God knows which He does not choose to share, and what of it?  Even angels, at this present moment, though they have dwelt with Him as near to forever as any created being can approach, were not up on just what it was God was doing with man.  It was only with the completion of Christ’s work here that, “It was revealed to them that they were not serving themselves, but you, in these things which now have been announced to you through those who preached the gospel to you by the Holy Spirit sent from heaven – things into which angels long to look” (1Pe 1:12).  Yes, I understand that Peter is initially addressing the prophets of old and their prophecies.  Though they spoke for God, yet their understanding was partial, their sharing in God’s knowledge was partial.  But, so, too, was the knowledge of the angels, though they dwell about the throne of God. 

My point is simply this:  We may never, even in eternity, come to the full knowledge of the Godhead.  I would argue the stronger case:  We will never do so.  To do so would be to enter into the omniscience of God, which is, which must be, a thing reserved for the singular, sovereign God.  The same surely applies as to power.  If we attain to the full power of God then God has an equal.  He is no longer singular and sovereign.  And to suppose He might grant full power to us in our present condition would posit a God who is of questionable sanity, and doubtful wisdom.  Who could entrust the unshackled power of God to the like of us?  Would you trust you with it?  Not if you’ve any wisdom.

So, how do we put on this new mind which is already ours?  How do we make an approach to that which is not yet actualized in us?  I think two further comments from Paul send us along on the right course.  The first, which I taught recently, is this:  “Set your mind on the things above, not on the things that are on earth” (Col 3:2).  The hunger for power displays, for all their supernatural splendor, is in fact a hunger for things that are on earth.  The desire for physical healing is largely in the same camp.  When we pray for healing, I wonder how often we consider our reasons for doing so.  Is there the least kingdom sentiment in it, or are we satisfied by thinking that sickness and death are simply at odds with God’s perfect creation and therefore ought to be opposed at every opportunity?  Do we even get that far in our thinking?  Or are we simply desirous of a more comfortable present, and perhaps a longer present?  If, after all, death is entrance into true life, why would we pray that it be kept from us?  For the sinner, the answer is obvious, as to why he might seek to prolong the present life, however onerous.  The eternal future for that one is beyond bleak.  But for the redeemed?  While we are dissuaded from all thought of taking our own life to reach heaven a bit earlier, we are not called to become so attached to this life that we fight against our time.  It’s a futile fight either way, given that God has the number of our days set, and as I’ve explored elsewhere at length, Hezekiah’s example serves as a cautionary against fighting too hard to hold on to this present existence.

No, our inheritance is stored up for us in heaven.  Our Beloved is established on His throne in heaven.  Our future is prepared and awaiting us in heaven.  “For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also” (Mt 6:21).  Well, where is your heart?  What things occupy your thoughts?  Is it all about this life, or are your eyes on the heavenward journey?  I suspect that, like me, you find far more of your attention on this life than such messages as this would advise.  At present, I contemplate some work on our house to make it more comfortable for us, and more utile for me, particularly, in pursuit of my musical interests.  What have those interests to do with heaven?  Not that much, of late.  Yes, there’s a degree of keeping skills sharp for use in worship, but if I’m honest, that rarely enters into my thinking when I’m working on music.  Rather, it’s the joy of creating something I, at least, consider interesting and perhaps even beautiful on occasion.  Similarly, thoughts of improving the living space on the back of the house do not have any particular spiritual impetus.  Oh, they’ll let us enjoy the nature of creation a bit more comfortably, one hopes, but that’s still an earthward focus, even if we give God the credit He deserves for its design and upkeep.

Yet the call remains:  Set your mind on the things above.  That is a part of the impetus for these morning hours spent in contemplation of God’s Word and God’s ways.  Would that the effects of it were felt longer as I went into the day, but then, we don’t walk by feelings but by faith.  I know God is doing His work in me, even when it seems at times that the things I read and write fade from consciousness with the shift of focus.  Even now, a part of me is more attuned to the birds awaking outside than to this effort of study.  Such is life in this body of the not yet.  But I know this:  God has been doing His work, and will continue to do so.  The life of the mind as I know it today is not the life of the mind I knew years ago.  That earlier me is not gone, sad to say.  Or is it sad to say?  If the coming of faith were the annihilation of self, I’m not sure I should find it so grand a thing.  But the transformation of self?  Does the butterfly retain memory of its caterpillar days?  That’s a tad fanciful, but you see my point.  Does the flower lose connection with the seed it once was?  Obviously not, for to seed it shall return in due course. 

For our part, we know – perhaps all too well – that our past continues into our present.  We are not the same but the old man, the old habits of thought, the old likes and dislikes persist.  At their best, they are being rechanneled, remodeled to suit the new man.  But, to take the obvious example, my tastes in music have not crossed some divide over which I may never return.  There was a time when I felt that necessary, and perhaps it was necessary for that season.  The old collection, in all its vinyl vastness, had to go.  Today, I would have to say I feel the occasional pang of regret for that decision.  A more considered approach may have been more fitting.  Yes, there were things that needed to go and stay gone, but there was far more that just needed separating for a time, until I had grown sufficiently to allow its return.  If I’m honest, I’d have to say that musically I still far prefer that music to the typical material used in church.  Oh, our lyrical content is wonderful, but musically, it simply is not on a par with the sorts of things I tend to want to hear.  Sorry.  But I wander.

The other passage in which Paul gives us some sense of how this renewal is to be put on can be found in the familiar words of Philippians 4:8.  “Finally, brethren, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is right ,whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is of good repute, if there is any excellence and if anything worthy of praise, let your mind dwell on these things.”  Now, I’m sure a good preacher would keep that whole instruction focused on Christ, exclusively on Christ.  After all, doesn’t our heavenward focus require this of us?  But I note well that Paul says whatever… anything.  Let me apply that to my musical tastes, and it is guidance as to what remains acceptable and what is not.  Like it or not, there actually are standards for beauty, and they are not the determination of man.  Man has managed, I think, to suss them out, to discern the way certain notes and tones combine as a thing of beauty and others are ugly and annoying.  There may be room for a certain degree of disagreement as to where the line between beauty and ugly is to be drawn, but there is something in us that knows, I think, when that line has been crossed.  There is much in the realm of modern art, such as it is, that sees that line and considers it a challenge, a boundary to be crashed through at earliest possible convenience.

But consider how Paul’s words, if followed, impact the soul and the thinking, even the feeling of the one who heeds them.  If our minds are constantly focused on what is false, what is dishonorable, what is wrong, and vile, and ugly, and disreputable, and even downright repulsive, what happens?  The constant input of negative data leads to a negative outlook.  Chances are you’re feeling the impact of that this year.  After all, I don’t know that we’ve had a year in my memory that was more replete with awfulness.  Even the fears of nuclear war in our younger days can’t compete with that absolute mess that is current events.  If you’re plugged into the news all day long, I’ve got news for you:  You’re going to emerge angry, discouraged, depressed.  You’re going to begin to display the influence of this world in your own thinking and your own responses and actions.

But now, take Paul’s guidance to heart.  Spend a few days focused on what is honorable, what is right, pure, lovely, true, excellent, and praiseworthy.  These are things which, dwelt upon, uplift.  Why do you suppose it is that we are called to forsake not coming together (Heb 10:25)?  Here is a place for encouragement for one another.  Here is a time to spend in contemplation of God’s Word and God Himself:  The very definition of all that is right, pure, lovely, true, excellent, and praiseworthy.  This does not preclude us from recognizing those things in life that also line up with these characteristics.  I have, albeit rarely, heard nuggets of profound truth spoken on NPR.  Admittedly, they were not intended to convey what I heard in that moment.  “But he who is spiritual appraises all things” (1Co 2:15a).  If you are a careful observer of the world, filtering what is seen and heard through the grid of Scripture, holding on to those things which align with that Philippians passage, you will be blessed with pleasant surprises from all directions.  All truth, after all, is God’s truth.  It didn’t cease to be true just because the wrong individual put it into words.  All beauty is likewise God’s beauty.  It didn’t cease to be beautiful just because the wrong individual was involved in its production.

It will come as no surprise to those who know me and my tastes that I find Charlie Peacock’s post-CCM efforts a lesson in this mindset.  He consciously chose to combine a set of players that included believers and those whom I would suppose at least are not believers to join together in the creation of a particularly intriguing, and I at least would say beautiful, bit of music.  As counterpoint, I could look to the greats of my chosen instrument, such as John Coltrane or Wayne Shorter who, though they have created many truly beautiful pieces, have also created things that are little more than lengthy sheets of annoying noise.  I could take, for example, the song “The Father and the Son and the Holy Ghost”, which I very much wanted to be a beautiful thing, but it’s a noise-fest.  The only thing of God’s beauty to be found there is in the title.  I’m sure there are plenty of folks out there who feel they have ascended to some higher plain of listening that renders their ears capable of hearing the beauty and skill in that outing, but a mind trained to appraise things spiritually by dwelling on what is good and lovely and so on is unlikely to find this a comfortable thing to contemplate.

[07/26/20]

I am not sure I have much more to say on this topic, but let me circle back to Romans just a bit, so as to carry this matter of the reformed mind out to the larger setting of the Church.  In fairness, it is within the setting of the Church that we find our greatest challenges.  After all, when dealing with unbelievers, we have every reason to expect an unbelieving response.  They’re unrepentant sinners.  Of course, they’re going to sin.  Knowing this going into the encounter, we are hopefully a bit more prepared to deal with the effects of sin as they come into view.  But when we’re amongst believers we have somewhat exaggerated expectations.  We somehow, in spite of being sufficiently aware of our continuing struggle with sin, suppose that everybody else in the congregation is pure and holy, already having attained to that degree of sanctification that eludes us personally.  And so, every least sin comes as a major affront.  Every least disagreement over matters of doctrine and practice becomes amplified in our perceptions.  Secondary matters, tertiary matters, matters completely foreign to Scripture; it makes no difference.  We will champion our cause, and let the one who disagrees see to his defenses!

This is not some new problem.  It was there pretty much from the outset.  Even amongst the Apostles, we discover this propensity to jockey for position in Christ’s favor.  It ought not to be that way, and Jesus was swift to rebuke such behavior, but you know and I know that those thoughts continued.  The Apostles were no more perfect men than you or me.  But then, as the Church spread into different societies, different people groups, the difficulties increased.  Mix Jew and Gentile, with completely distinct cultural history and practices, and difficulties were bound to arise.  Can you imagine the annual business meetings in such a congregation?  Do we convene on Saturday or Sunday?  Do we observe the cycle of Feast Days or dismiss them?  What of pagan holidays?  Ought we to observe them at all?  Birthdays?  Is it permissible to celebrate those, or is that an affront to God?  What about food?  You know where this stuff comes from.  How can you eat it?  Isn’t that a sort of idolatry?

Bring it forward to this century.  The questions really aren’t much different.  Morning service or evening?  Should we do a midweek?  What should we do about holidays?  About flag displays?  Where does your food come from?  If your tea advertises some yogi or promotes Hinduism or the like, should you still feel free to partake?  Is it okay to go to Indian restaurants, or Thai?  After all, they generally have their idols about.  Is this not going to be an offense?  I won’t even get into all the societal upheaval of the day.  And what is Paul’s answer?  “Let each man be fully convinced in his own mind” (Ro 14:5).  Oh.  Real helpful there, Paul.  C’mon, Mr. Authority.  Surely you must have the official answer on such questions?  Well, yes he does, and he just gave it to you.

This is probably one of the most uncomfortable answers of Scripture.  In all such matters as this, we are to grant our fellow believer to be guided by his own conscience.  Notice where that last sentence focuses, though.  It is on the fellow believer.  And that is exactly our issue.  While we are strongly called to aid our brother in his sanctification, we are not called to do so instead of looking to our own condition.  We are not called to bend him to our own sense of things, but rather to respect that the same Spirit of the Living God is at work in him as is at work in ourselves.  We are to return to the message of speck and beam.  Notice, though, where Paul is focused.  You.  You function in compliance to your conscience.  If this is truly what you believe God is requiring of you, then you daren’t deviate from it simply because your brother over there has suggested a different course.  You don’t bend to every wind of purported doctrine.  This does not in any way preclude a change of heart downstream somewhere.  It just demands of us that any such change come from above, not from beside.  It’s back to that Colossians verse again:  Set your mind on things above.  If growth in understanding and sanctification lead you to rethink your past positions and come to new conclusions so be it, and now walk thou in these new convictions.  But otherwise, give heed to your convictions and let your conscience by your guide.

I have to say that something about that seems like horrible advice.  It sounds too much like follow your bliss, or let your heart be your guide.  Your heart is perhaps the single most unreliable guide you could consult, and your bliss is as likely as not a hunger after sin resurging.  But conscience?  Well, if I were to assume that conscience is no more than the whisperings of my own mind, then it should be just as unreliable as anything else in me.  After all, the vilest of criminals still has a conscience, however corrupt.  He still has an inner voice directing his choices and actions.  Is he not following his conscience with full conviction?  Why, yes, he is.  But then, he labors under a significant handicap.  He has not been transformed.  You have been.

For the believer, the reality of this reformed mind lends greater credence to conscience.  It is not a perfect guide as yet, else there would be no space for one to change one’s mind.  There could be no conflicting views in the Church.  At the same time, however, the Holy Spirit is in residence, and speaking to the conscience, directing, reminding us of what our Savior taught and did.  It may be that for a season, our growth requires of us a certain stringency of behavior that others may not need.  It may be that we need to withdraw from partaking of certain foods or past habits because the connotations are too ingrained with us.  That may be for a season, or it may be for a lifetime.  It rather depends on the individual.  It’s possible, certainly, that one could observe the old Jewish feasts in a God-honoring way, even as a Christian.  I suspect it is rather unlikely, at least for the Gentile population, but it is not impossible.  As we grow more and more remote from the period of temple worship, the likelihood would seem to decrease.  And yet, it is quite clear that there’s a certain population within Christendom that, if anything, finds the idea all the more enticing for its remoteness; its otherness.  But if one were to delve into motives with open eyes, it is likely that the reason for such intrigue with the old order has more to do with self than with God.  Oh!  We missed out.  If the temple and its practices are restored, and we are found amongst those awaiting its restoration, won’t that just give us a leg up in the standings!  Well, it might perhaps do so amongst men of like thinking, but I don’t see it doing much in the sight of God.  He, after all, put an end to that practice personally.  He presented you with the once-for-all sacrifice of His own Son, the perfect and eternal answer to sin.  Why would you suppose Him thrilled with your backward look?

I want to go to one more passage from Romans, and there, I think, I shall close out this subject.  “Now may the God who gives perseverance and encouragement grant you to be of the same mind with one another according to Christ Jesus; that with one accord you may with one voice glorify the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ” (Ro 15:5-6).   I should note the reason given:  “Wherefore, accept one another, just as Christ also accepted us to the glory of God” (Ro 15:7).  It’s of a piece with what was said in the previous verse.  There will be differences of opinion, and yet, it would seem, you can be of one mind.  How can this be?  This is something beyond, I think, my usual analogy of harmony versus unison.  Rather, I should have to suggest that the granting of the same mind concerns those things that truly are of significance to salvation and sanctification.  I could be wrong about that.  I could see, for example, that if God truly granted this request in full, it would mean a church in which every individual had in fact attained to full maturity.  But given Paul’s other declarations, I don’t suppose he would ever expect such a thing of this current age.  Given the constant need to correct the churches throughout his post-conversion life, I can’t imagine he held any delusions as to the likelihood of any such outcome.  Humanity remains entirely too human, even in its own post-conversion state.

Yet, here is this prayer for a church with one mind and one voice to glorify the one God.  Actually, we have two distinct phrases here.  In verse 5, it is to auto phronein, the same mind, likeminded, and the object of this likemindedness is en allelois; with one another, although the KJV prefers toward.  But then, in verse 6, we have homothumadon.  Now there’s an interesting word!  At risk of being misled, a poke down to the root word of this complex construction takes us back to the idea of sacrifice.  It comes through an extension speaking to passion and even fierceness, and then combines with homo, bringing in the sense of sameness.  Think homogenous:  mixed together in such thoroughness as to have the same consistency throughout.  The message is one of unanimity.  But the focus has shifted.  Whereas the likemindedness concerns our attitudes towards each other, unanimity is to characterize our worship of God.  Do you hear it?  We can have these differences of opinion on sundry matters of conscience and still recognize in one another a shared unanimity in worshiping the God Who Is.

I have to say that as lovely as that sounds, it is often painfully difficult in practice.  In some cases, differences on matters of faith may take on the cast of heresy in our view.  It’s easy for us to become too ready with that charge.  Arguably legalism is an expression of that readiness in perhaps lesser form.  You are not doing as I do, ergo you must not be a full-blown Christian.  For those of a different sensibility, it will be matters of the finer points of doctrine.  You disagree with my position, and I know, after all, that my position is quite well founded.  Ergo, you must be wrong, and if so passionately wrong, surely suspect.  I have to stress that such vehemence in disagreement did not in fact characterize the various denominations of Christendom at their founding.  A study of the doctrinal statements that defined the Presbyterian, Congregational, and Baptist churches at their outset were so nearly identical as ought to cause us to marvel at the unity.  Indeed, this was intentionally so.  Each group was acknowledging the significant unanimity of faith and worship.  There’s just this one thing…  For the Congregationalist, it was a question of polity, of organization.  This hardly amounted to a matter of faith at all, but rather of governance.  For the Baptist, there was and is the question of what constitutes a proper baptism.  This does not require us to hold our brothers in other denominations as heretics, nor call into doubt their faith.  The same, I think, can be said of denominations with greater distinctions.  Compare, say, the Presbyterian and the Methodist.  Here likemindedness might be a challenge to locate, for the doctrinal differences are many and significant.  And yet, the underlying unity remains:  We worship the same God from like hearts and minds.  We remain homothumadon.

This does not lead us to universalism, nor to accept that every claimant to the label of church is automatically to be accounted a legitimate church worshiping the legitimate God.  Too many are clearly far afield from any such worship.  Too many so-called churches are busily pushing God to the side, and in some cases, preferring that perhaps we could avoid mentioning Jesus, lest we offend.  But how can one be a Christian without the Christ?  Here, surely, a line must be drawn, for it is rendered impossible to suppose we worship the same one God, and as such, could hardly do so with any semblance of unanimity.

The reformed mind, however many differences of opinion may remain as we each pursue our course of sanctification, must lead to a distinct unanimity of worship, for it produces in us a love for the same one God, a desire to please and walk worthy of said God.  That must in turn lead us to a place of shared tolerance for one another in our differences.  It leads us to grant one another freedom of conscience, recognizing that the same God is clearly at work in each of us, however different the outcome may appear to be at present.  The reformed mind recognizes the Spirit at work in his fellow believer, and on that basis welcomes his fellow believer as brother or sister in good standing.  The reformed mind does not insist that we all be in lockstep, for it recognizes as it must that we are not all pressed from the same mold, or mixed to the point of homogeneity.  God has chosen to build His church out of individual stones, with individual forms.  And like the command given in regard to constructing the altar, there is serious admonition against thinking we can take our tools to our fellow stones and reshape them to a better form.  That’s God’s job and God’s prerogative.  You get your hands in there, and you’ll just spoil the work, for you remain as imperfect a specimen as your brother or sister whom you think to improve.

There is plenty of room left to encourage one another, to do what is possible to edify.  But the change of the conscience is not our department.  The demand for compliance to our current best understanding is baseless.  I don’t care if you’re a staunchly conservative Reformed believer or a wild and wooly Pentecostal.  Insisting that your read of things is the only possible read, the singular, definitive measure of the True Christian™ is arrogance expressed to the uttermost degree.  We do well to consider:  If you’re so fully informed and up on the fine details of the faith, how does this bullheaded stance measure up?  How well have you dealt with that beam you know remains in your own eye?  How are you displaying the requisite likemindedness towards your fellow believer?  Let’s focus on that, shall we?  Then, perhaps, we shall find ourselves growing into the realization of that reformed mind which is already ours by faith.