The Christian Alternative To Materialism
Preaching
THE WESLEYAN PREACHING ANNUAL 2001--2002
In one sense, the Christian faith is the most materialistic of all the world's great religions. It begins with creation which God declares unequivocally to be "very good." When this material creation is seriously blighted by the disobedience of Adam, it is redeemed by Christ's coming into it "bodily." As Paul says, "For in Christ, all the fullness of the Deity lives in bodily form" (Colossians 2:9). By Christ's coming, God affirms his world even in its fallenness.
But the human temptation has always been to shift our affections from the God who created to the creation itself. This is the essence of materialism. This too is the peril Paul addresses in the closing paragraphs of his first letter to Timothy. Here there are three counsels that, taken seriously, can save us from materialism.
First, Paul counsels: Be content with what you have. There is no suggestion here that possessions are of themselves evil, so this is not a counsel to asceticism. But there is a very clear suggestion that the "desire" for riches can subvert our affections and lead us into "temptation and a trap" and even "plunge (us) into ruin and destruction." Strong words!
If this caution seems overblown, watch as people by the millions line up to buy their weekly lottery tickets, or as droves make their jaunt to the nearest casino. They do it with ill concealed passion. "For the love of money is a root of all kinds of evil," Paul cautions. In fact, he writes, "some people, eager for money, have wandered from the faith and pierced themselves with many griefs" (1 Timothy 6:10).
Second, Paul counsels: Make righteousness the passion of your life. Materialism can only be fended off by a passion for something better - and that is righteousness. But righteousness is not merely one virtue among many; the word describes our whole relationship with God. In this case it is the lead word in a string of virtues which must together be our earnest pursuit: "godliness, faith, love, endurance and gentleness" (1 Timothy 6:11).
To be sure, this exhortation is addressed to a pastor named Timothy. And, to be sure, pastors foremost among us, should set the example in the pursuit of godliness. In a materialistic society, they too will feel the subtle draw of materialism. In fact, when limited incomes keep them forever on the stretch they may even be more vulnerable.
But we need not limit the exhortation to Christian leaders. Each of us, like Timothy, has made a "good confession" of our faith and therefore each of us is called to "fight the good fight of the faith (and) take a hold of the eternal life to which (we) were called ..." (1 Timothy 6:12).
Third, Paul counsels: "Those who are rich in this present world (should) not be arrogant nor ... put their hope in wealth, which is so uncertain, but ... put their hope in God" (v. 17). It's easy to think the early church was made up only of the poor and disfranchised, slaves and such. But what about believers like Barnabas who had a farm to sell, or Lydia, the business woman in Philippi who invited Paul and his missionary party to stay in her home?
So those with possessions are especially cautioned to avoid the false god of materialism. How are they to do this? "Command them to do good, to be rich in good deeds, and to be generous and willing to share" (v. 18). Paul adds that "in this way they will lay up treasures for themselves as a firm foundation for the coming age, so that they may take hold of the life that is truly life" (v. 19).
I was standing at the curb outside the terminal of Kennedy International Airport in New York. Dawn had scarcely broken and there was a chill in the air. I had just returned on an overnight flight from a third world country where I had been shaken and jarred in a missionary car that would scarcely pass for a junker here. Standing at the curb, I watched as a five-- or six--year--old dark blue Ford Crown Victoria glided quietly past me. Suddenly I saw it as a luxurious vehicle, limousine--like, and it occurred to me that in our part of the world people of very modest means can drive a vehicle of such vintage if they want to. To the third world, we must all seem wealthy.
In a sense, we are, and this is why materialism is rampant. If we as Christians are to escape its lure we must learn the art of heart contentment, cry out daily for the grace of righteousness, and master the skill of generosity - for Christ's sake.
Donald N. Bastian
2 Kings 5:1--14
Our Provident God
If you think missionary outreach was a sort of afterthought with God, look back to the origins of our faith. Approximately 2,100 years before Christ, the Lord said to Abraham, "and all peoples on earth will be blessed through you" (Genesis 12:3b). Or, recall that much later, the psalmist prayed, "may your ways be known on earth, your salvation among all nations" (Psalms 67:2). Or, more specifically, consider the case of Naaman.
Naaman was a Syrian military general at the middle of the ninth century B.C. He was highly respected by his king and a winning commander on the field of battle. He no doubt had led many forays into Israel across Syria's southern borders. But he had one problem, a monstrous one; he had leprosy. How does God show his missionary heart to this man of pagan roots?
First, he strategically plants his witness. One of the many raiding bands that had gone out from Syria to menace Israel's northern towns had captured a young Israelite girl. Providentially she had become the servant of Naaman's wife.
Providentially? A simple definition of this big word is that "God governs and guides in all the affairs of mankind." From God's perspective, things don't just happen. Recall that the lad, Joseph, by the evil design of his jealous brothers, landed in Egypt as a slave. But many years later Joseph witnessed to his brothers that God had caught up even their evil design into his higher purposes for the chosen people (Genesis 45:7--9). In the same way, Queen Esther became the servant of providence in the harem of a totalitarian ruler (Esther 4:14) and Daniel in the service of pagan Nebuchadnezzar of Babylon (Daniel 1).
So we should not be surprised that a young Israelite slave girl is the servant of Naaman's wife. Moreover, she is separated from her family but not from her faith. So, when the household of Naaman is fraught with anxiety over his incurable condition and no one is sleeping well, she confides to Naaman's wife that there is a prophet in Israel who could heal him. The wife tells Naaman and Naaman tells the king and in no time there is a richly laden caravan of silver and gold and ten changes of clothing moving south toward the city of Samaria. But it's directed to the king of Israel.
When it arrives, the king shudders with fear. He thinks this is a ploy to start a fight. But when the prophet, Elisha, hears about what is going on in the palace he sends to have the caravan redirected to his house. It arrives but Elisha doesn't respond as Naaman thinks he should. Instead of going out himself to perform some showy incantation over his disease he sends his servant out to tell Naaman to go wash in the Jordan seven times and his flesh will be restored and he will be cleansed of his condition. Naaman is furious. There are better rivers in Syria and he shouldn't have made this long trek for such insulting instructions. But his servants talk him down and he goes and washes in the Jordan and is healed of his condition as Elisha promised.
So, God has a servant girl in Naaman's home to set his gracious designs in motion, but he also has a righteous prophet in Israel, a man of unimpeachable integrity, through whom he channels his healing power. Integrity? Not all prophets in Israel were honorable. There were lying prophets (Zechariah 13:3) and false prophets aplenty, money--grubbing prophets (Micah 3:11) and prophets who said only what the people wanted to hear.
Not Elisha. He had such a keen awareness of the holy God he served that he was not overwhelmed by the splendid horses and chariots that pulled up in front of his house. And he refused to compromise the miracle of Naaman's healing by accepting his outpouring of gifts. It takes clarity of vision and great fortitude to be an Elisha. He must have been a man in constant contact with his God.
The results of all this go way beyond Naaman's healing. He has a conversion. "Now I know that there is no God in all the world except in Israel" (2 Kings 5:15). That's a revolutionary confession from a man of pagan origins. Moreover, he asks for "as much earth as a pair of mules can carry for your servant will never again make burnt offerings and sacrifices to any other god but the Lord" (2 Kings 5:17).
If God could use a slave girl and a righteous prophet to carry out his missionary purposes back then, should we not be looking for his providences in the same way today?
Donald N. Bastian
Psalm 19
The North Star Of Our Faith
Ask the captain of a ship on the boundless ocean if the vastness of our universe makes him anxious. He would say that he is not troubled because he always has the North Star to look to. The North Star lines up with the poles of our globe and so can always be counted on. It's a fixed point of reckoning.
The psalmist who penned Psalm 19 may never have sailed the boundless ocean or been aware, as modern man is, that everything is in motion. He must in his own way have perceived his world's vastness, but this did not make him anxious because he had faith in a God who was changeless amidst all of life changes and uncertainties.
He was sure, for one thing, that behind everything that exists there is a creating and caring hand: "The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hand. The message of the heavens is wordless, to be sure: "They speak without a sound or a word; their voice is silent in the skies" (v. 3 NLT). Even so, wherever he looks, evidence of the Creator God is there.
Take the sun, for example, that massive globe of fire that lights the skies. In a poetic moment, the psalmist sees a morning sunrise as though it were a bridegroom coming forth after his wedding, joyous and confident. Amidst all change, Mr. Sun is a blazing testimony to the handiwork of God; and no one escapes his penetrating warmth.
But the psalmist knows that the message of inarticulate nature, grand as it is, is not enough. He needs a word more personal and constant. He has that word in the law of the Lord. So, with a string of synonyms, he praises God's law as an ever dependable constant in his life. He moves from singing about "general revelation" to singing in praise of "special revelation."
The song writer sings, "The law of the Lord is perfect reviving the soul. The statutes of the Lord are trustworthy, making wise the simple" (v. 7). God talks to us in language we can understand, and the words he speaks "are more precious than gold, than much pure gold" (v. 10). If the psalmist had our vantage point, he would add to his song special jubilation about the living word, Jesus Christ, who is "the same yesterday and today and forever" (Hebrews 13:8).
However, the North Star serves no useful purpose unless the mariner is willing to take reckonings and make adjustments when it shows him to be off course. So it is with us who live by faith. When we take God's self--revelation seriously, we are humbled and often corrected. So, the psalmist teaches us to pray, beginning with: "Forgive my hidden faults."
Are these faults hidden from God? Never. He knows us altogether. "Before a word is on my tongue you know it completely, O Lord" (Psalm 139:4). When we ask for God's mercy on our hidden faults, then, we are praying about what is known to God.
Hidden then from our own circle - spouse, family, neighbors, fellow believers? Not these either. Those who know us best see the defects that escape our awareness, but nevertheless treat us with grace.
This first petition is about faults hidden from ourselves. I consider myself above average in ability to spell. But my computer spell--check again and again shows a misplaced letter here, a needed one there, and often it shows up my faulty spelling of a word I know well. I need to use that standard outside myself to correct my overlooked faults.
From secret faults the psalmist moves on to "willful sins." These may be sins we know about but wish to overlook. How easy it is to excuse ourselves for a bad attitude, a dishonest word, an unkept promise, an intended deception. We may be freely justified by God's grace, but set over against God's absolute standards of righteousness, these are offenses that need correction.
And, if we pray the first two petitions humbly we will be saved from "great transgression" - the sin that becomes open and public, bringing shame on our Lord's holy cause.
It is this kind of humble praying that frees us to rejoice in the world God has created and the word he has spoken. Like the mariner on the vast ocean, we can say we are not filled with anxiety because we have a North Star that is always there to guide us. And daily we take our sightings from it gladly.
Donald N. Bastian
Luke 23:1--49
The Peril Of Cowardice
The Bible is forever a source of names for the newborn. Year after year babies are called John or Peter or Mary or Timothy or Paul. There are even Josiahs and Zechariahs and maybe a few Jedadiahs. But one never hears of a baby called Pilate. His name turns up 63 times in the Gospels, three times in The Acts of The Apostles and once in First Timothy. But he ruined the name forever by one infamous act, and history cannot forget. With the authority of the Roman Empire in his hands he buckled under the jeers and taunts of religious leaders and their rebellious mob and he sentenced an innocent man to death, none other than the Son of Man, the Lord of the Universe.
The infamy of Pilate's name lives on as Sunday after Sunday congregations around the world recite the Apostle's Creed, remembering that Jesus "suffered under Pontius Pilate."
Who was this man and what makes his name so villainous? Appointed by the emperor, Tiberius, he was the Roman governor of Judea from A.D. 26--36. His authority was broad: He had full control of the army of occupation; in his hands was the power of life and death; he could reverse sentences imposed by the Sanhedrin; the high priest was appointed by him; he controlled the temple and its funds; and even the temple vestments were under his authority to be released only for festivals.
Luke gives us a vivid account of his performance when the Jewish authorities brought Jesus before him on that fateful Passover weekend.
First, Pilate repeats the Sanhedrin's charge directly to Jesus, asking: "Are you the king of the Jews?" (Luke 23:3). Straightforwardly, Jesus replies: "Yes, it is as you say." This brings Pilate to a quick decision. To the chief priests and the crowd he reports: "I find no basis for a charge against this man."
Second, when his accusers identify him with Galilee, Pilate sends him to Herod who has authority over that region. Pilate, who resides in Caesarea, is in Jerusalem for a special reason but so is Herod. Herod makes sport of Jesus and sends him back without a verdict. Pilate for the second time declares Jesus undeserving of death. But with a strange twist he offers to appease the angry crowds by having him scourged, a cruel beating that on occasion itself caused death.
Third, because releasing Jesus was the fair thing to do, Pilate goes before the crowd again to ask; "Why? What crime has this man committed? I have found in him no grounds for the death penalty." But the angry crowd fills the air with the cry for his crucifixion. Their shouts grow in volume; their anger is unabated; they are insistent. Pilate buckles and gives his consent to as ignominious an injustice as was ever committed. He surrenders Jesus to be crucified.
Why did Pilate go against his own judgment and the rule of Roman law? Did he feel only contempt for these troublesome people he was to govern? That may have been a factor. Was he a weak man? Some judge him so, but his response to the Jews may have been more from indifference than weakness. Was he himself lawless? Philo of Alexandria ascribes to Pilate rape, insult, murder and inhumanity. He writes that he was "by nature rigid and stubbornly harsh, of spiteful disposition and an exceedingly wrathful man." These opinions are speculative.
But one thing is sure. He was obviously a man who served expedience rather than principle. From all appearance, he was more devoted to himself and his career than to anyone else. That may be the crux of his becoming a huge tragic figure on the screen of history. Tradition records that some years later he was recalled to Rome and later than that he died at his own hand.
He failed, but on the same weekend Simon Peter failed too. Pilate condemned Jesus to death. Peter denied knowing Jesus at the hour of his greatest need, and he underlined his third denial with a string of oaths. But Peter was instantly aware of the enormity of the wrong he had done and went out into the darkness and wept scalding tears. What was the difference between the two? Pilate had violated impersonal law, a thing easy enough to do in a highly pressured situation when all you have to do is save your own neck. Peter had violated a relationship. He loved the Lord and the Lord loved him. When he breached that love, his heart was filled with remorse and his repentance began the healing of the ugly wound.
Donald N. Bastian
Acts 16:9--15
God's Sovereignty And Human Judgment
We know that the church everywhere is under a mandate from her Lord to "go and make disciples of all nations" (Matthew 28:19). But when a body of believers takes this mandate seriously, do good things happen because of their good strategy or because what they attempt is sovereignly appointed by God? That is, does the success of a mission depend on human judgment or divine oversight?
The question begs for an answer. For example, when Paul and Silas found themselves at a women's prayer meeting by a river outside Philippi in Macedonia one Sabbath morning, was it by coincidence, good planning or divine ordination?
Consider how they got there.
The venture was launched from the Gentile church of Antioch. They crossed Phrygia and Galatia (modern day Turkey) traveling in a westerly direction with stops on the way, then approached the region of Troas on the Aegean Sea. Timothy joined them in Lystra, and perhaps others along the way. So, where now?
They were kept by the Holy Spirit from preaching in the province of Asia. That would have taken them in a southeasterly direction. Also, the Spirit of Jesus would not allow them to enter Bythinia to the north. What was the Spirit's method for directing them? Did decisions follow times of intense prayer? That was Antioch's method. Did they get signals from Spirit directed discussions about the best direction to go, leading to a strong consensus? Were there external circumstances that literally blocked their way? We know that the Holy Spirit uses a variety of means.
So, from Troas why did they cross the Aegean to Macedonia? Interestingly enough, Luke, the Gentile physician joined them in Troas. We know this because he is the author of the story and he uses the pronoun "they" in verse 8, suggesting he was not with them and the pronoun "we" in verse 10, suggesting he was. There is good reason to believe that Luke was a native of Macedonia, perhaps a citizen of Philippi located in its eastern parts.
Dare we suppose that when Luke joined the party in Troas he talked enthusiastically about a mission to Philippi? Or, dare we guess that the discussion went on into the night, interspersed with prayers for guidance? If so, then during the night Paul's vision in which he saw a Macedonian calling the party to "come over into Macedonia and help us" could have been set up humanly by the discussions and at the same time overseen sovereignly by the Spirit who had clearly kept the party from going into Asia or Bythinia.
In any event, from Troas they took ship across the northeastern wedge of the Aegean, spent the night on the island of Samothrace, sailed the next day to Neapolis, and then traveled nine miles inland through the mountains to the developing Roman city of Philippi. Here, the party spent several days getting their bearings and sizing the situation up before going on the Sabbath to a riverside meeting of women gathered for prayer.
Why a women's prayer meeting? These women were likely Gentile women who had been attracted by the teachings of the Jewish religion. They had a heart for piety. There was likely no synagogue in the city and the meeting by the river was the next best thing. So Paul was accepted among them as a teacher and we can be sure he taught them the way of salvation through faith in the crucified and resurrected Christ.
All this involved strategy, a thing for which Paul is noted. Routinely, he went to the cities to proclaim his gospel - Philippi, Athens, Corinth, Ephesus, Rome, etc. He began his work whenever possible at the synagogue and among the Jews. He went where there was receptivity. These moves were not accidental. He had a plan. The church thrives and its ministry is extended today when careful, Spirit--directed strategies are worked out.
What came of this meeting is historic. There was a business woman in the gathering named Lydia. She already was a worshipper of God but did not know the Gospel. "The Lord opened her heart to respond to Paul's message" (v. 14b). She and her family believed and were baptized and invited the missionary party to come and stay at her home. The long term results of that women's prayer meeting are reflected in the warm and affectionate letter to the Philippian church written years later.
When the church anywhere takes the mandate to spread the gospel seriously this calls into play not only God's sovereign supervision but all the energies of the redeemed human mind and will as well.
Donald N. Bastian
But the human temptation has always been to shift our affections from the God who created to the creation itself. This is the essence of materialism. This too is the peril Paul addresses in the closing paragraphs of his first letter to Timothy. Here there are three counsels that, taken seriously, can save us from materialism.
First, Paul counsels: Be content with what you have. There is no suggestion here that possessions are of themselves evil, so this is not a counsel to asceticism. But there is a very clear suggestion that the "desire" for riches can subvert our affections and lead us into "temptation and a trap" and even "plunge (us) into ruin and destruction." Strong words!
If this caution seems overblown, watch as people by the millions line up to buy their weekly lottery tickets, or as droves make their jaunt to the nearest casino. They do it with ill concealed passion. "For the love of money is a root of all kinds of evil," Paul cautions. In fact, he writes, "some people, eager for money, have wandered from the faith and pierced themselves with many griefs" (1 Timothy 6:10).
Second, Paul counsels: Make righteousness the passion of your life. Materialism can only be fended off by a passion for something better - and that is righteousness. But righteousness is not merely one virtue among many; the word describes our whole relationship with God. In this case it is the lead word in a string of virtues which must together be our earnest pursuit: "godliness, faith, love, endurance and gentleness" (1 Timothy 6:11).
To be sure, this exhortation is addressed to a pastor named Timothy. And, to be sure, pastors foremost among us, should set the example in the pursuit of godliness. In a materialistic society, they too will feel the subtle draw of materialism. In fact, when limited incomes keep them forever on the stretch they may even be more vulnerable.
But we need not limit the exhortation to Christian leaders. Each of us, like Timothy, has made a "good confession" of our faith and therefore each of us is called to "fight the good fight of the faith (and) take a hold of the eternal life to which (we) were called ..." (1 Timothy 6:12).
Third, Paul counsels: "Those who are rich in this present world (should) not be arrogant nor ... put their hope in wealth, which is so uncertain, but ... put their hope in God" (v. 17). It's easy to think the early church was made up only of the poor and disfranchised, slaves and such. But what about believers like Barnabas who had a farm to sell, or Lydia, the business woman in Philippi who invited Paul and his missionary party to stay in her home?
So those with possessions are especially cautioned to avoid the false god of materialism. How are they to do this? "Command them to do good, to be rich in good deeds, and to be generous and willing to share" (v. 18). Paul adds that "in this way they will lay up treasures for themselves as a firm foundation for the coming age, so that they may take hold of the life that is truly life" (v. 19).
I was standing at the curb outside the terminal of Kennedy International Airport in New York. Dawn had scarcely broken and there was a chill in the air. I had just returned on an overnight flight from a third world country where I had been shaken and jarred in a missionary car that would scarcely pass for a junker here. Standing at the curb, I watched as a five-- or six--year--old dark blue Ford Crown Victoria glided quietly past me. Suddenly I saw it as a luxurious vehicle, limousine--like, and it occurred to me that in our part of the world people of very modest means can drive a vehicle of such vintage if they want to. To the third world, we must all seem wealthy.
In a sense, we are, and this is why materialism is rampant. If we as Christians are to escape its lure we must learn the art of heart contentment, cry out daily for the grace of righteousness, and master the skill of generosity - for Christ's sake.
Donald N. Bastian
2 Kings 5:1--14
Our Provident God
If you think missionary outreach was a sort of afterthought with God, look back to the origins of our faith. Approximately 2,100 years before Christ, the Lord said to Abraham, "and all peoples on earth will be blessed through you" (Genesis 12:3b). Or, recall that much later, the psalmist prayed, "may your ways be known on earth, your salvation among all nations" (Psalms 67:2). Or, more specifically, consider the case of Naaman.
Naaman was a Syrian military general at the middle of the ninth century B.C. He was highly respected by his king and a winning commander on the field of battle. He no doubt had led many forays into Israel across Syria's southern borders. But he had one problem, a monstrous one; he had leprosy. How does God show his missionary heart to this man of pagan roots?
First, he strategically plants his witness. One of the many raiding bands that had gone out from Syria to menace Israel's northern towns had captured a young Israelite girl. Providentially she had become the servant of Naaman's wife.
Providentially? A simple definition of this big word is that "God governs and guides in all the affairs of mankind." From God's perspective, things don't just happen. Recall that the lad, Joseph, by the evil design of his jealous brothers, landed in Egypt as a slave. But many years later Joseph witnessed to his brothers that God had caught up even their evil design into his higher purposes for the chosen people (Genesis 45:7--9). In the same way, Queen Esther became the servant of providence in the harem of a totalitarian ruler (Esther 4:14) and Daniel in the service of pagan Nebuchadnezzar of Babylon (Daniel 1).
So we should not be surprised that a young Israelite slave girl is the servant of Naaman's wife. Moreover, she is separated from her family but not from her faith. So, when the household of Naaman is fraught with anxiety over his incurable condition and no one is sleeping well, she confides to Naaman's wife that there is a prophet in Israel who could heal him. The wife tells Naaman and Naaman tells the king and in no time there is a richly laden caravan of silver and gold and ten changes of clothing moving south toward the city of Samaria. But it's directed to the king of Israel.
When it arrives, the king shudders with fear. He thinks this is a ploy to start a fight. But when the prophet, Elisha, hears about what is going on in the palace he sends to have the caravan redirected to his house. It arrives but Elisha doesn't respond as Naaman thinks he should. Instead of going out himself to perform some showy incantation over his disease he sends his servant out to tell Naaman to go wash in the Jordan seven times and his flesh will be restored and he will be cleansed of his condition. Naaman is furious. There are better rivers in Syria and he shouldn't have made this long trek for such insulting instructions. But his servants talk him down and he goes and washes in the Jordan and is healed of his condition as Elisha promised.
So, God has a servant girl in Naaman's home to set his gracious designs in motion, but he also has a righteous prophet in Israel, a man of unimpeachable integrity, through whom he channels his healing power. Integrity? Not all prophets in Israel were honorable. There were lying prophets (Zechariah 13:3) and false prophets aplenty, money--grubbing prophets (Micah 3:11) and prophets who said only what the people wanted to hear.
Not Elisha. He had such a keen awareness of the holy God he served that he was not overwhelmed by the splendid horses and chariots that pulled up in front of his house. And he refused to compromise the miracle of Naaman's healing by accepting his outpouring of gifts. It takes clarity of vision and great fortitude to be an Elisha. He must have been a man in constant contact with his God.
The results of all this go way beyond Naaman's healing. He has a conversion. "Now I know that there is no God in all the world except in Israel" (2 Kings 5:15). That's a revolutionary confession from a man of pagan origins. Moreover, he asks for "as much earth as a pair of mules can carry for your servant will never again make burnt offerings and sacrifices to any other god but the Lord" (2 Kings 5:17).
If God could use a slave girl and a righteous prophet to carry out his missionary purposes back then, should we not be looking for his providences in the same way today?
Donald N. Bastian
Psalm 19
The North Star Of Our Faith
Ask the captain of a ship on the boundless ocean if the vastness of our universe makes him anxious. He would say that he is not troubled because he always has the North Star to look to. The North Star lines up with the poles of our globe and so can always be counted on. It's a fixed point of reckoning.
The psalmist who penned Psalm 19 may never have sailed the boundless ocean or been aware, as modern man is, that everything is in motion. He must in his own way have perceived his world's vastness, but this did not make him anxious because he had faith in a God who was changeless amidst all of life changes and uncertainties.
He was sure, for one thing, that behind everything that exists there is a creating and caring hand: "The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hand. The message of the heavens is wordless, to be sure: "They speak without a sound or a word; their voice is silent in the skies" (v. 3 NLT). Even so, wherever he looks, evidence of the Creator God is there.
Take the sun, for example, that massive globe of fire that lights the skies. In a poetic moment, the psalmist sees a morning sunrise as though it were a bridegroom coming forth after his wedding, joyous and confident. Amidst all change, Mr. Sun is a blazing testimony to the handiwork of God; and no one escapes his penetrating warmth.
But the psalmist knows that the message of inarticulate nature, grand as it is, is not enough. He needs a word more personal and constant. He has that word in the law of the Lord. So, with a string of synonyms, he praises God's law as an ever dependable constant in his life. He moves from singing about "general revelation" to singing in praise of "special revelation."
The song writer sings, "The law of the Lord is perfect reviving the soul. The statutes of the Lord are trustworthy, making wise the simple" (v. 7). God talks to us in language we can understand, and the words he speaks "are more precious than gold, than much pure gold" (v. 10). If the psalmist had our vantage point, he would add to his song special jubilation about the living word, Jesus Christ, who is "the same yesterday and today and forever" (Hebrews 13:8).
However, the North Star serves no useful purpose unless the mariner is willing to take reckonings and make adjustments when it shows him to be off course. So it is with us who live by faith. When we take God's self--revelation seriously, we are humbled and often corrected. So, the psalmist teaches us to pray, beginning with: "Forgive my hidden faults."
Are these faults hidden from God? Never. He knows us altogether. "Before a word is on my tongue you know it completely, O Lord" (Psalm 139:4). When we ask for God's mercy on our hidden faults, then, we are praying about what is known to God.
Hidden then from our own circle - spouse, family, neighbors, fellow believers? Not these either. Those who know us best see the defects that escape our awareness, but nevertheless treat us with grace.
This first petition is about faults hidden from ourselves. I consider myself above average in ability to spell. But my computer spell--check again and again shows a misplaced letter here, a needed one there, and often it shows up my faulty spelling of a word I know well. I need to use that standard outside myself to correct my overlooked faults.
From secret faults the psalmist moves on to "willful sins." These may be sins we know about but wish to overlook. How easy it is to excuse ourselves for a bad attitude, a dishonest word, an unkept promise, an intended deception. We may be freely justified by God's grace, but set over against God's absolute standards of righteousness, these are offenses that need correction.
And, if we pray the first two petitions humbly we will be saved from "great transgression" - the sin that becomes open and public, bringing shame on our Lord's holy cause.
It is this kind of humble praying that frees us to rejoice in the world God has created and the word he has spoken. Like the mariner on the vast ocean, we can say we are not filled with anxiety because we have a North Star that is always there to guide us. And daily we take our sightings from it gladly.
Donald N. Bastian
Luke 23:1--49
The Peril Of Cowardice
The Bible is forever a source of names for the newborn. Year after year babies are called John or Peter or Mary or Timothy or Paul. There are even Josiahs and Zechariahs and maybe a few Jedadiahs. But one never hears of a baby called Pilate. His name turns up 63 times in the Gospels, three times in The Acts of The Apostles and once in First Timothy. But he ruined the name forever by one infamous act, and history cannot forget. With the authority of the Roman Empire in his hands he buckled under the jeers and taunts of religious leaders and their rebellious mob and he sentenced an innocent man to death, none other than the Son of Man, the Lord of the Universe.
The infamy of Pilate's name lives on as Sunday after Sunday congregations around the world recite the Apostle's Creed, remembering that Jesus "suffered under Pontius Pilate."
Who was this man and what makes his name so villainous? Appointed by the emperor, Tiberius, he was the Roman governor of Judea from A.D. 26--36. His authority was broad: He had full control of the army of occupation; in his hands was the power of life and death; he could reverse sentences imposed by the Sanhedrin; the high priest was appointed by him; he controlled the temple and its funds; and even the temple vestments were under his authority to be released only for festivals.
Luke gives us a vivid account of his performance when the Jewish authorities brought Jesus before him on that fateful Passover weekend.
First, Pilate repeats the Sanhedrin's charge directly to Jesus, asking: "Are you the king of the Jews?" (Luke 23:3). Straightforwardly, Jesus replies: "Yes, it is as you say." This brings Pilate to a quick decision. To the chief priests and the crowd he reports: "I find no basis for a charge against this man."
Second, when his accusers identify him with Galilee, Pilate sends him to Herod who has authority over that region. Pilate, who resides in Caesarea, is in Jerusalem for a special reason but so is Herod. Herod makes sport of Jesus and sends him back without a verdict. Pilate for the second time declares Jesus undeserving of death. But with a strange twist he offers to appease the angry crowds by having him scourged, a cruel beating that on occasion itself caused death.
Third, because releasing Jesus was the fair thing to do, Pilate goes before the crowd again to ask; "Why? What crime has this man committed? I have found in him no grounds for the death penalty." But the angry crowd fills the air with the cry for his crucifixion. Their shouts grow in volume; their anger is unabated; they are insistent. Pilate buckles and gives his consent to as ignominious an injustice as was ever committed. He surrenders Jesus to be crucified.
Why did Pilate go against his own judgment and the rule of Roman law? Did he feel only contempt for these troublesome people he was to govern? That may have been a factor. Was he a weak man? Some judge him so, but his response to the Jews may have been more from indifference than weakness. Was he himself lawless? Philo of Alexandria ascribes to Pilate rape, insult, murder and inhumanity. He writes that he was "by nature rigid and stubbornly harsh, of spiteful disposition and an exceedingly wrathful man." These opinions are speculative.
But one thing is sure. He was obviously a man who served expedience rather than principle. From all appearance, he was more devoted to himself and his career than to anyone else. That may be the crux of his becoming a huge tragic figure on the screen of history. Tradition records that some years later he was recalled to Rome and later than that he died at his own hand.
He failed, but on the same weekend Simon Peter failed too. Pilate condemned Jesus to death. Peter denied knowing Jesus at the hour of his greatest need, and he underlined his third denial with a string of oaths. But Peter was instantly aware of the enormity of the wrong he had done and went out into the darkness and wept scalding tears. What was the difference between the two? Pilate had violated impersonal law, a thing easy enough to do in a highly pressured situation when all you have to do is save your own neck. Peter had violated a relationship. He loved the Lord and the Lord loved him. When he breached that love, his heart was filled with remorse and his repentance began the healing of the ugly wound.
Donald N. Bastian
Acts 16:9--15
God's Sovereignty And Human Judgment
We know that the church everywhere is under a mandate from her Lord to "go and make disciples of all nations" (Matthew 28:19). But when a body of believers takes this mandate seriously, do good things happen because of their good strategy or because what they attempt is sovereignly appointed by God? That is, does the success of a mission depend on human judgment or divine oversight?
The question begs for an answer. For example, when Paul and Silas found themselves at a women's prayer meeting by a river outside Philippi in Macedonia one Sabbath morning, was it by coincidence, good planning or divine ordination?
Consider how they got there.
The venture was launched from the Gentile church of Antioch. They crossed Phrygia and Galatia (modern day Turkey) traveling in a westerly direction with stops on the way, then approached the region of Troas on the Aegean Sea. Timothy joined them in Lystra, and perhaps others along the way. So, where now?
They were kept by the Holy Spirit from preaching in the province of Asia. That would have taken them in a southeasterly direction. Also, the Spirit of Jesus would not allow them to enter Bythinia to the north. What was the Spirit's method for directing them? Did decisions follow times of intense prayer? That was Antioch's method. Did they get signals from Spirit directed discussions about the best direction to go, leading to a strong consensus? Were there external circumstances that literally blocked their way? We know that the Holy Spirit uses a variety of means.
So, from Troas why did they cross the Aegean to Macedonia? Interestingly enough, Luke, the Gentile physician joined them in Troas. We know this because he is the author of the story and he uses the pronoun "they" in verse 8, suggesting he was not with them and the pronoun "we" in verse 10, suggesting he was. There is good reason to believe that Luke was a native of Macedonia, perhaps a citizen of Philippi located in its eastern parts.
Dare we suppose that when Luke joined the party in Troas he talked enthusiastically about a mission to Philippi? Or, dare we guess that the discussion went on into the night, interspersed with prayers for guidance? If so, then during the night Paul's vision in which he saw a Macedonian calling the party to "come over into Macedonia and help us" could have been set up humanly by the discussions and at the same time overseen sovereignly by the Spirit who had clearly kept the party from going into Asia or Bythinia.
In any event, from Troas they took ship across the northeastern wedge of the Aegean, spent the night on the island of Samothrace, sailed the next day to Neapolis, and then traveled nine miles inland through the mountains to the developing Roman city of Philippi. Here, the party spent several days getting their bearings and sizing the situation up before going on the Sabbath to a riverside meeting of women gathered for prayer.
Why a women's prayer meeting? These women were likely Gentile women who had been attracted by the teachings of the Jewish religion. They had a heart for piety. There was likely no synagogue in the city and the meeting by the river was the next best thing. So Paul was accepted among them as a teacher and we can be sure he taught them the way of salvation through faith in the crucified and resurrected Christ.
All this involved strategy, a thing for which Paul is noted. Routinely, he went to the cities to proclaim his gospel - Philippi, Athens, Corinth, Ephesus, Rome, etc. He began his work whenever possible at the synagogue and among the Jews. He went where there was receptivity. These moves were not accidental. He had a plan. The church thrives and its ministry is extended today when careful, Spirit--directed strategies are worked out.
What came of this meeting is historic. There was a business woman in the gathering named Lydia. She already was a worshipper of God but did not know the Gospel. "The Lord opened her heart to respond to Paul's message" (v. 14b). She and her family believed and were baptized and invited the missionary party to come and stay at her home. The long term results of that women's prayer meeting are reflected in the warm and affectionate letter to the Philippian church written years later.
When the church anywhere takes the mandate to spread the gospel seriously this calls into play not only God's sovereign supervision but all the energies of the redeemed human mind and will as well.
Donald N. Bastian
