Monday, November 18, 2013

Manchester's Last Paragraphs

William Manchester's The Death of a President came out in 1967, the product of one man's research of the Kennedy assassination. It is more personal and emotional than, say, the Report of the Warren Commission. The last two paragraphs of the book have come back to my memory time and again over the years. At the risk of being terribly maudlin, I place them here for anybody who remembers, and for those who don't.

"Unknown to her, the clothes Mrs. Kennedy wore into the bright midday glare of Dallas lie in an attic not far from 3017 N. Street. In Bethesda that night those closest to her had vowed that from the moment she shed them she should never see them again. She hasn't. Yet they are still there, in one of two long brown paper cartons thrust between roof rafters. The first is marked 'September 12, 1953,' the date of her marriage; it contains her wedding gown. The block-printed label on the other is 'Worn by Jackie, November 22, 1963." Inside, neatly arranged, are the pink wool suit, the black shift, the low-heeled shoes, and wrapped in a white towel, the stockings. Were the box to be opened by an intruder from some land so remote that the name, the date, and photographs of the ensemble had not been published and republished until they had been graven upon his memory, he might conclude that these were merely stylish garments which had passed out of fashion and which, because they had been associated with some pleasant occasion, had not been discarded.

"If the trespasser looked closer, however he would be momentarily baffled. The momento of a happy time would be cleaned before storing. Obviously this costume has not been. There are ugly splotches along the front and hem of the skirt. The handbag's leather and the inside of each shoe are caked dark red. And the stockings are quite odd. Once the same substance streaked them in mad scribbly patterns, but time and the sheerness of the fabric have altered it. The rusty clots have flaked off; they lie tiny brittle grains on the nap of the towel. Examining them closely, the intruder would see his error. This clothing, he would perceive, had not been kept out of sentiment. He would realize that it had been worn by a slender young woman who had met with some dreadful accident. He might ponder whether she had survived. He might even wonder who had been to blame."

Friday, November 8, 2013

The S Word (3)

(Continued series from devotional at work)

"Judge not, that ye be not judged...." -Matthew 7:1

"I ain't taking no man's bleeding charity." -CS Lewis

Before closing out this study of the S Word, let’s look at some common objections raised when people are told they are sinners:

First: “You’re judging me.” Unfortunately, this is too often true, and people who respond this way are in good company. Nothing made Jesus more angry than the judgmental attitude of the Pharisees toward the poor and dispossessed. Judging says more about the judger’s knowledge of the gospel that the judgee’s. The judger is assuming that he has superior knowledge, and stands on a higher ground than the judgee, both of which are contrary to the gospel. True believers are such because they have an overwhelming sense of their own fallenness, and a humble thanks for the work God has done to free them. Paul, who understood grace better than most of us, called himself “the chief of sinners.” He was not being super-pious. He really believed that. The more light he had, the more he saw his own darkness. Therefore when a Christian talks about human sin, he is talking “up,” not “down,” because he perceives himself in worse shape than his hearer. He is more like a sick man telling another victim where to find a cure. Of course, there are a lot of folks who resent being told they are sick at all, which leads us to:

Second, "Well, I ain't no axe murderer!" I don't know why axe murderers get such bad press, but they're right up there with Adolf Hitler. Anyway, the idea here is that compared to a lot of unsavory folks, I'm not so bad. God supposedly has a moral scale, and I always stay just under the "wrath" meter. I am not comparing myself to God, but to others. And therein is the problem. God's standard of judgment is His own pure and holy character, and that standard is revealed in the Law, particularly the Ten Commandments. There's not time here, but there's no way I can look at any of the Commandments and claim innocence. And just in case I could, Jesus comes along and says that sin is not just a matter of action, but of attitude. One conclusion: “all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.”

Third, “It can’t be that bad, because Jesus loves everybody.” This is known in theological circles as the Gooey Galilean theory. It forgets the horrifying images of Christ in the book of Revelation and Jesus’ prophecies of the fall of Jerusalem. But more than that, it misses a central tenet of Western jurisprudence which is based on Hebrew law: “the punishment must fit the crime.” If Jesus died in my place, in fact, became my Substitute, then I deserved what He bore. And He bore unspeakable pain, rejection, loneliness, and ultimately severance from the Presence of God Himself. The more we look at the Atonement, the more we see the horror of human rebellion against God and our own real standing with Him.

In conclusion, consider that our antagonism to the doctrine of sin is itself an evidence of our sinful nature. God calls us to quit arguing and agree that He is right. Interestingly, the word “confess” means just that: it is a combination of the Latin word for “with” and the word for “say.” Its Greek counterpart is “homo-logeo,” literally, “to say the same thing.” To confess means to say about ourselves what God already says about us.

Next: Christ’s Active Obedience for us.

Sunday, November 3, 2013

The S Word (2)

"Worthy are you to take the scroll and to open its seals, for you were slain, and by your blood ransomed people for God from every tribe and language and people and nation, and you have made them a kingdom and priests to our God, and they shall reign on the earth." -Revelation 5: 9;10

"'Safe,' said Mr. Beaver; '...who said anything about safe? Course he isn't safe. But he's good. He's the King, I tell you.'" -CS Lewis

Why is the way we look at our own sin important? It obviously affects the way we look at our own need, and an understanding of it has eternal consequences. But there is another result of the way we consider our own sin that is seldom realized: it conditions the way we think about Jesus, and the way we think about Jesus conditions the way we live. Let me illustrate:

During the First Great Awakening (1730's and 40's), evangelists and pastors preached sin with the intention that their hearers would be desperate for a Savior. Their meetings were often protracted for weeks, and they did not rush people into a decision at the "altar." Their goal was for their hearers to see their own depravity to such an extent that they cried out to God/Christ to come to them, regenerate them, and lift the burden of guilt off their shoulders. The important thing to note is that they believed in an ACTIVE Christ who came to the repentant sinner with love and release.

The preachers of the day, in fact, taught the impossibility of salvation through any human effort--that salvation was totally a work of God, and that man had to assume the position of a humble supplicant, begging for help. In fact, I read that Whitefield once preached a sermon in a field, telling people it was impossible for them to be converted, but that God could do the impossible! People began to cry out, and some fainted, and God moved in power on individuals, as if He had taken Whitefield's dare.

The fruit of this strong emphasis on human depravity and the power of God to save ACTIVELY brought forth Christians who were strong in faith, more centered on the ability of Christ than on their own. They weathered adversity because they believed that God was sovereignly in control of their lives, and because of their initial experience, clung to Christ as their only hope. So many people were converted during that Awakening that American culture was changed for decades.

The Second Great Awakening (@1790 through 1840) began with a similar approach, but went through a radical shift about half way through. The total inability to come to God was downplayed, and conversion became more a matter of choice or rational decision. Instead of being active, Christ became increasingly PASSIVE. Christ had done all He do to save men, and now He waited helplessly for man to decide to receive Him. In a subtle way He became a pitiful figure, knocking at the door of the human heart and hoping that His sacrifice would be accepted--out in the cold and unappreciated (is that the King of Glory?!). Sermons became weepy instead of terrifying. Because conversion was a matter of choice, immediate decisions were demanded, and people assured that because they had made such a choice, they were truly converted. The time that earlier preachers allowed for the Holy Spirit to work conviction in individuals was telescoped into a few minutes.

This does not mean that true conversions did not take place. But the method led to a new set of consequences. The greatest was the question, "If my conversion depended on my action, and my faith, and my decision, how do I know I believed enough, acted enough, chose strongly enough?" That question did not trouble earlier converts who believed in an active Christ, because the work was all His, not the convert's.

Another consequence was one's attitude to suffering, temptation, and struggle. The believers of the First Awakening knew that the victorious Christ was working through them to change them, and that His plan for change was perfect. They also knew that He was ruthless. They were not as tempted to let faith waiver. The tendency in the second case was to view those things as proofs of God's displeasure--or as I heard one Christian quoted lately, "I know God loves me, but I don't think He likes me a whole lot." That is so contrary to the all-sufficiency of God's love that is revealed in the ACTIVE gospel!

And that's why taking sin seriously conditions how we view Christ. An extreme view of sin creates an extreme view of Christ! Next time: some objections to the doctrine of sin...