New Thoughts (9/8/01-9/9/01)
It is all too easy to come to this passage and say that there is no longer any reason to worry about righteousness. It is all too easy to come to Christianity, and feel that very feeling. All will be forgiven, we learn. That being the case, the flesh quickly offers the suggestion that it's okay to continue doing what we did before. Sadly, many will stop there, not recognizing the awful implications of what they suggest. If it were true that we could go on unchanged in habit, it would seem that God doesn't care about the actions of those He has saved, only about those who remain condemned. Can there be any justice in that? I think not. But God is just. He cannot be unjust and remain God, any more than He could cease loving and remain God. The fact of the matter is that the rule of right living hasn't changed. God has not changed, and neither has His law. Jesus made that clear in His ministry, declaring that He came with no intention of destroying the Law, but with every intention of fulfilling it. And that is what He did. He fulfilled the Law both by living a life that was righteous by the Law's definition (the only definition), and by dying in payment of the single penalty that the Law could impose. But His payment was made not for His own failure to comply to the Law, but ours.
The Law is not dead to us. It is not the Law that was crucified with Christ, but us. We died on the very day we believed, and, as Paul tells us here, in our death, the bonds of the Law were broken. The Law did not end, only its binding power upon us was lifted. That binding power was the threat of punishment that the Law held over us, a threat that, given our nature, we knew deep inside to be our due, and our only expectation. But on the day we believed, we not only died, but we also remarried. The bonds of Law being broken, we bound ourselves to a new love, to Christ and to the righteousness He is. In this new relationship, this new union, the requirements of the Law are not disregarded. Our new husband did not disregard the requirements of righteousness, but fulfilled them in every detail. He is our husband, the authority over us, and if He considered these requirements important, we also must accept them as the rule of how we ought to live.
But, with all that the Law and our obedience have become newness - a qualitatively different thing. Before we had the rules, but could see only the literal and immediate application. Even at that, we found ourselves miserable failures, incapable of complying. And, as if that did not hurt enough (for nobody seeks to be a failure), we saw the punishment that must come for our inability. Death awaited us, inescapable and cold. Ah, but it's a new day for us! The death sentence that loomed so large has been served by another! We are free of that punishment, and not only that, but we find in our new husband, a man who has found the strength to obey that Law that so plagued us! He is our husband, our teacher, our Lord! We, then, are also empowered to obey. The flesh continues to do its utmost to point out our constant failures, it does its utmost to convince us that obedience is still impossible, that surely we have exceeded the bounds of forgiveness. But that is not the case.
We are empowered to comply, but it's not in the nature of our own perfection, for we remain yet imperfect. But praise be to God that He is interested in the heart. The circumcision of the flesh was to be a reminder, not the concluding evidence. Its intent was to remind us of the righteousness we sought to live by. In this present life, we need all the reminders we can get. That is the purpose of our assembling together. That is the purpose of our soaking in His word. That is the purpose of our maintaining to the best of our ability a healthy prayer life, an open line of communication with our Lord and our Father. We may well have done good deeds before we came to Christ. In fact, that may well have been a huge stumbling block for us, since we thought we were pretty good people already. But those works were always imperfect, always coming short of the ideal in some fashion, and at their core, our best works remained condemned by the Law, for the sacrifices God requires are to be without the slightest stain or blemish. As the authors of the JFB commentary point put it, "Thus hopeless is all holy fruit before union to Christ."
And to such degree as we try to do good works by our own power, either pursuing deeds that God did not prepare for us beforehand, or pursuing those deeds He did prepare by means He did not desire, those works are still just as hopeless. It is in union to Christ that we are made righteous. It is in union to Christ that our works are made righteous. As Colossians 1:22 declares, in the death of His body He reconciled us such that when we are presented before God, we are holy and blameless. How is this? We know all too well (as did Paul) that we are far from that lofty goal. Is it not because in sending the Holy Spirit, He has sent to us the one encouragement that can fire our desire? The Holy Spirit works to free us from a slavish obedience of fear. In its place comes the desire to be holy, the desire to be a worthy spouse for our Husband. That desire has come by the Holy Spirit, sent to our aid by our Husband, Jesus Christ. As I said earlier, He is not only our Husband, not only our Lord, but also our great Teacher. And loving Teacher that He is, seeing His students floundering, He has provided us with a Tutor. That Tutor, the Holy Spirit, works with us constantly, to teach us how to live both bound and free, how to truly live in Christ.
Indeed, I know all too well how much it hurts. It seems daily I cry out over my own actions and choices even as I make them. Entirely too often, I act even though the remorse is present in my heart, and I find myself crying out for the strength to truly repent. Can I be completely honest? I think this is the natural state for the Christian. Before I was reborn, I was fine with who I was and with what I did. If there was sufficient cause to change some facet of myself, I'd incline myself to change, but not with any regret over how I'd been before, only with an eye to some perceived advantage in a new approach. I had a firm belief that I ought not to regret anything that had been part of my life, for it had all contributed to bring me where I was. Now, I know regret for my actions. Now, I know the Holy Spirit within me, pointing out the decisions I ought not to have made, the words I ought not to have said, the opportunities I ought not to have missed. I desire holiness. It hurts me no end to recognize that I don't come anywhere close to attaining it. My eyes cannot see the end from the beginning. My eyes see the present, and occasionally recall the past. That recollection, at least, brings some encouragement, and I thank my Lord that He does not completely erase our memory of what we were. It not only humbles me, but it encourages me, for it's the only means I have of recognizing any progress.
So what has really changed? I am still a sinful man. If anything, the change I feel is that I feel that sinfulness more than I did. But that very feeling informs me of my desire to be otherwise. The Holy Spirit has indeed freed me to desire holiness. And as often as it feels like I'm a hypocrite, because my actions don't always reflect my desires, I must try and recognize, as Mr. Henry points out, that it is solely our marriage to Christ that has sanctified what would otherwise have truly been hypocritical efforts. 2Co 3:6 tells us that He has made our service adequate. In the covenant of the Spirit by which we are bound to our Beloved, we find life, because He has cleansed not only our lives, but also our works. The letter of the Law was lethal because it could do nothing to clean up our imperfect efforts. Every sacrifice we tried to make to our God, every service we sought to perform for Him, was flawed from the start, and unacceptable in His eyes. But Christ our Savior has changed all that. He intercedes for us as our great Mediator, and in that role of mediator, He corrects our mistakes, cleanses our offerings, and makes them presentable, so that they can be and are acceptable to God our Father. Indeed, it is our marriage that sanctifies our works, it is our Husband who works that sanctifying change on our lives, our actions, and our prayers. This, He does not so we can go merrily on our way with no concern for giving our best, but He does so knowing that we are giving our best, that we long for nothing else but to offer our best. He knows, too, that our very best will always fail of perfection, and so, He provides the perfection we so long to offer.
"It becomes us to worship within the veil , and no longer in the outward court." So Mr. Henry declares to us, and so it is. Because of the beauty in which our dear Lord has dressed us, because of the holiness He works in us, we are fit to enter into the Holy of Holies. Oh, Lord God. Today is, as we call it, the Lord's day (as though every day were not Yours). But, today is a day special to us, my God, because it is a day particularly set aside for You. It is a day when we can come into Your house, when we can come together in Your presence, when we can once more celebrate, among those who understand, the fact that we can and ought to be worshiping 'within the veil.' This is my desire today, oh my Lord. Too often, I find myself hovering about in the outer court, warming my hands at the fire, but not daring to enter. But I hear Your invitation to me, my Lord. Where my Husband has entered in, shall I not follow? When my Husband would present me to His Father and mine, shall I refuse? I do not ask, oh Father, that You would let me see Your face today, for I know I will see it in Your time. I do, however, ask that You draw me in to Your very throne room, draw me in to the Holy of Holies. Let me dwell in Your presence oh God. Let me know, if only for a time, the magnificence of Your splendor. Grant today, my Father, a foretaste of the glorious home my Husband has prepared for me. Thank You, Jesus, that You have cleansed this sinner, that You have made these stumbling efforts of mine somehow holy and acceptable. I thank You for every opportunity You have given me to serve as a Levite in Your worship. I thank You for every opportunity You have given me to serve as a student and tutor to one of Your children, to one of my brothers or sisters. I thank You for the desire You have kindled in my heart, that I might long to serve You better every day. I thank You, my Lord and Savior, that it does indeed become me to worship within the veil. May I see You there shortly!