Jude: The Reason for Writing – Jude 1:3-4

• April 15, 2024
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Jude 1:3-4

Well, let me invite you to take your copy of God’s Word and turn with me to the little letter of Jude. If you weren’t here last week, you can find that little 25-verse letter immediately before the book of Revelation. I’m sure you know where to find Revelation, and Jude is immediately before that. Let me offer a brief recap from last Sunday as you’re finding your place.

We were introduced to Jude, the half-brother of the Lord Jesus Christ and brother of James, the church leader in Jerusalem. We noticed that Jude doesn’t capitalize on his family relationship with Jesus when introducing himself but uses language to identify himself as a servant of the Lord Jesus. And that gives us an insight into the kind of person he is. He’s humble. He’s a servant. He’s not out for himself – to gain notoriety or popularity.

Next, we were introduced to the readers, to the audience, to the recipients of this little letter. And although we aren’t told specifically where these folks are – for example, the letter isn’t written to a specific city like Ephesus or Philippi or Corinth – Jude did see fit to give us a description of the kind of people he was speaking to. They’re “called,” “beloved in God,” and “kept for Jesus Christ.” And if that describes you, then Jude is writing to you as well. So, this is a general epistle. It’s a general letter, written to a general audience of believers who are likely scattered throughout a broad region. Where? We’re not exactly sure, but that’s the audience.

Finally, we considered Jude’s opening prayer, where he prayed for “mercy, peace, and love to be multiplied” among them. Who doesn’t want that, right? As we say in the “pastor world,” that message will preach. Those aren’t just words on a page. That’s powerful. That’s meaningful. To be reminded of God’s mercy, peace, and love when you’ve been separated from your family and community due to growing persecution is tremendously refreshing. To be reminded of God’s mercy, peace, and love when you find yourself in uncharted territory – the loss of a loved one, the dissolution of a marriage, the unemployment line, the doctor’s office, the discouraged, the hurting, the lonely, the lost – a prayer for mercy, peace, and love are life-giving in those situations. Jude wants his readers (and you and me) to know that’s his prayer, that’s his heart, as he’s writing. And that’s important, because we’re going to notice a shift today.

Well, that was last week’s introduction to the author, the audience, and the prayer. Let’s read verses 3-4:

3 Beloved, although I was very eager to write to you about our common salvation, I found it necessary to write appealing to you to contend for the faith that was once for all delivered to the saints. 4 For certain people have crept in unnoticed who long ago were designated for this condemnation, ungodly people, who pervert the grace of our God into sensuality and deny our only Master and Lord, Jesus Christ.

And, if I may, let me also read it to you from Eugene Peterson’s paraphrase, The Message:

3 Dear friends, I’ve dropped everything to write you about this life of salvation that we have in common. I have to write insisting – begging, in fact! – that you fight with everything you have in you for this faith entrusted to us as a gift to guard and cherish. 4 What has happened is that some people have infiltrated our ranks (our Scriptures warned us this would happen), who beneath their pious skin are shameless scoundrels. Their design is to replace the sheer grace of our God with sheer license – which means doing away with Jesus Christ, our one and only Master.”

“Father, as we turn now to the Bible, may the Spirit of God quicken our minds, stir our hearts, direct our wills, turn us afresh to Christ and to all that He has accomplished once for all. For we offer this prayer in the name of Jesus. Amen.”

One of the privileges and challenges of pastoral ministry is the opportunity to spend time in hospitals. Outside of those who are doctors and nurses, I think pastors and clergy spend more time in hospitals than anyone else. And no matter how many times I visit a hospital, I’m always alarmed by hearing “Code blue.” (Most hospitals rely on a standardized coding system that alerts the staff to specific emergencies.) A “code blue” usually comes with a warning sound, and then a voice that identifies the location and room number requiring an urgent response – a response to be made in hopes that the patient will survive.

And the more I read Jude this week, the more I said to myself, “You know, this transition here from verses 1-2 to 3-4, is in some ways a spiritual code blue.” It’s as if Jude said to himself, “You know, I was intending to write to you in a more leisurely fashion about all that is ours by way of common salvation, but I’ve dropped everything, because what I want to say to you is a matter of urgent necessity.” (That’s why I read Eugene Peterson’s Message paraphrase, because that’s the language he used, “I’ve dropped everything…”). Jude is sounding a wakeup call to the church, to people who have, half-asleep, allowed people to creep in unnoticed into their congregation; not just “certain people” but “ungodly people” who, Jude says, have an evil agenda.

Last week, you might recall, I told you that the entire letter of Jude could be summarized with one word. Do you remember the word? (Contend.) The main point of the book of Jude is found in verse 3. And so, I want to make it the main point of today’s message, namely, it’s the duty of every genuine believer to contend for the faith once for all delivered to the saints.

Former pastor and theologian, John Piper, put it this way. He writes, “Just because the brilliant Commander in Chief promises victory on the beaches doesn’t mean the troops can throw their weapons overboard. The promise of victory assumes valor in battle. When God promises that His church will be kept from defeat, His purpose is not that we lay down our sword and go to lunch, but that we pick up the sword of the Spirit and look confidently to God for the strength to fight and win. Wherever the promised security of God is used to justify going AWOL, we may suspect there is a traitor in the ranks.”

This morning, I’m going off script a little bit and offering you four points (instead of three) as we try to unpack verses 3-4, and the first is:

There Is A Faith Once for All Delivered to the Saints

Often times, we use the word faith as a verb. When Jesus curses the fig tree in Matthew 21 he says, “And whatever you ask in prayer, you will receive, if you have faith.” And Paul writes, in Ephesians 2:8-9, “For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast.” In that sense, faith is a feeling of trust in God, trusting in the completed work of Christ Jesus. We say things like, “Just place your faith and trust in Jesus.” But other times, like here, faith is used for the truths we believe about the One we trust. In other words, sometimes faith is used as a noun. That’s why we read the Nicene Creed this morning. That’s not something we normally do, but it’s a good general summary of our common salvation as Christians. It outlines “the faith” that Christians claim to have in common. But there’s a balance here, right?

One of the problems with reciting the Creed, as helpful and accurate and meaningful as it may be, is that no one is saved by believing a set of ideas. Remember, the devil believes most of the truths of Christianity too. James 2:19 says, “You believe that God is one; you do well. Even the demons believe – and shudder!” So, we need to stress that unless a person has a living trust in Jesus as Savior and Lord, all the orthodoxy in the world will not get them into heaven.

On the other hand, if our stress on the personal relationship with Jesus leads us to deny that there is a set of truths essential to Christianity, then we make a grave mistake. There are truths about God and Christ and man and the church and the world which are essential to the life of Christianity. That’s why most churches, including ours, include a “What We Believe” section that outlines those issues of utmost importance. If those things are lost or distorted, then the result will not be merely wrong ideas but misplaced trust. When doctrine goes bad, so do hearts. There is a body of doctrine which must be preserved.

“What is that body of doctrine?” you ask. Well, most fundamentally, it’s the gospel. It’s the life, death, and resurrection of the Lord Jesus Christ. It’s the fact that Jesus came to be an atoning sacrifice for our sins, and that by believing in the person and work of Jesus and placing trust in Christ’s work on Calvary, our sin has been covered by the blood of Jesus and we have been made right with God. Ultimately, that’s “the faith,” but it’s more than just the gospel. Matthew 28:19-20 gives us what we call the Great Commission and it reads, “Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, [listen] teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you. And behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age.” In Acts 2 we read, “And [the believers] devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and the fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers.”

So, “the faith” is more than the gospel, but it’s certainly nothing less than the gospel. And the faith – according to verse 3 – was “delivered to the saints.” You might recall Paul’s testimony to the churches in Galatia, he writes, “For I would have you know, brothers, that the gospel that was preached by me is not man’s gospel. For I did not receive it from any man, nor was I taught it, but I received it through a revelation of Jesus Christ” (Galatians 2:11-12). Anyone who comes along and claims to have a new word from God to add to the faith once for all delivered to the saints is against Scripture. There is an apostolic faith. There is a body of doctrine that hangs together and is called the faith. We should not add to it or take from it. It’s a faith that’s not manmade, but given directly to the saints from Jesus Himself.

This Faith Is Worth Contending For

I want to illustrate again the importance of using Spirit-guided discernment, because there’s another tension here. While we have a faith that’s worth contending for, we need to remember that not everything about “the faith” is worthy of the same level of contention. Does that make sense? It’s like gathering all of the Norris Family for a holiday and saying, “The Norris Family is worth fighting for.” What I mean is that what we have and what we represent as a family unit is worth the struggle. What I’m not saying is that every single member of the Norris Family be the exact same in every detail.

Let me show you what I mean in the Bible. In Romans 14, we read, “One person believes he may eat anything, while the weak person eats only vegetables. Let not the one who eats despise the one who abstains, and let not the one who abstains pass judgment on the one who eats, for God has welcomed him. [O]ne person esteems one day as better than another, while another esteems all days alike. Each one should be fully convinced in his own mind. The one who observes the day, observes it in honor of the Lord. The one who eats, eats in honor of the Lord, since he gives thanks to God, while the one who abstains, abstains in honor of the Lord and gives thanks to God” (Romans 14:2-3, 5-6). So, the Bible speaks about issues that ought not cause division. In other words, there are some things about “the faith” that should be left for individual choice and application. But make no mistake about it, there is truth worth contending for. There is a body of truth worth dying for.

The faith we cherish today was preserved for us with the blood of hundreds of martyrs, beginning with Stephen in Acts 7 and continuing with Peter, Paul, and the other disciples. You can study church history and discover that literally hundreds of Protestant reformers were burned at the stake – men like John Rogers, John Hooper, Rowland Taylor, Robert Ferrar, John Bradford, Nicholas Ridley, Hugh Latimer, and Thomas Cranmer. Why? Because they stood by a truth – the truth that the real presence of Jesus’ body is not in the Eucharist but in heaven at the Father’s right hand. For that truth they endured the excruciating pain of being burned alive.

The blood of the martyrs is a powerful testimony that the faith once for all delivered to the saints is worth contending for. And when “the faith” is at stake, our salvation is also at stake. That’s what verse 3 says. If the truth is lost, salvation is lost. The apostles and reformers were willing to die for the sake of the faith because they cared about whether the message of salvation would be preserved – they cared about people and about the glory of God. We need to gain a whole new sense of the preciousness of biblical doctrine. We need to know, as a church, the depth and beauty and value of doctrinal truth.

The Faith Is Continually Threatened from Within the Church

As much as I’d like to say that our primary threat is the world or politics and government or education or culture or whatever, the fact of the matter is that the worst enemies of Christian doctrine are professing Christians who don’t hold to the faith once for all delivered to the saints.

In his last message to the pastors of the church of Ephesus, in Acts 20, Paul warned that after his departure “fierce wolves will come in among you, not sparing the flock; and from among your own selves will arise men speaking twisted things, to draw away the disciples after them” (Acts 20:29-30). The wolves are professing Christians. They’re pastors and church leaders and seminary teachers and missionaries.

Schools like Harvard, Princeton, Dartmouth, and Yale once began, at the very core, with the training of ministers for the gospel, for the one gospel, “the faith once for all delivered to the saints.” That’s where they began. Today, without being unkind in any way, they’re so far removed from their roots in historic orthodoxy that you would never know their true history. And how does it happen? Someone, generally on the inside says, “We don’t have to be so bold. We don’t have to be so firm. We believe in the resurrection, but we don’t need everybody to believe in the resurrection. We believe in the purity of the Scriptures, but people have various ideas of the Scriptures.” And so, it goes on. And any part of the overarching truth of the gospel that is embarrassing in a culture will – unless people are absolutely convinced and prepared to contend – gradually slip away.

It’s happening even at this moment in every Christian denomination, in some form or another, over the issue of gender and sexuality. The faith that was once for all delivered to the saints is being tested, is under attack, is being suppressed – not primarily by those outside the church but by those clergy and churchmen and members on the inside. And that’s the way it’s been ever since the first century. Paul said it would happen. Jude saw it happening. He saw it as a fulfillment of the apostles’ predictions. If you still have your Bibles open, look at verses 17-19: “But you must remember, beloved, the predictions of the apostles of our Lord Jesus Christ. They said to you, ‘In the last time there will be scoffers, following their own ungodly passions.’ It is these who cause divisions, worldly people, devoid of the Spirit.”

As many tears as it may have cost Paul, virtually all of his letters have to do with contentions that he was having with professing Christians. So, it shouldn’t surprise us if today much of our contending for the faith will be with professing Christians who teach and write things which (at least from our perspective) are contrary to the faith once for all delivered to the saints.

The plain New Testament teaching is that the faith will be repeatedly threatened from within. Which leads finally to our last point.

Every Genuine Believer Should Contend for the Faith

Remember who Jude’s audience is. It’s not (primarily) pastors but “those who are called, beloved in God the Father and kept for Jesus Christ” (Jude 1:1). The duty to contend for the faith is not just the duty of the ordained ministers of the Word, though they do have a special responsibility. It’s the duty of every genuine believer.

Verses 20-21 tell some of the things we should do to prepare ourselves to contend for the faith. “But you, beloved, build yourselves up on your most holy faith; pray in the Holy Spirit; keep, yourselves in the love of God, wait for the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ unto eternal life.” The best thing we can do to become a church that is effective in contending for the faith is to become a church well built on the faith. Study! Meditate! Build! Grow! There’s so much wonderful truth about God to learn. And the best defense of the faith is to know it and love it.

Prayer is an indispensable part of contending for the faith. “Pray in the Holy Spirit.” Unless we seek the mind of the Holy Spirit in prayer, we will not grow in our grasp of the faith and we will be weak contenders.

And verses 22-23 tell some of the ways to contend for the faith. “And convince some, who doubt; save some, by snatching them out of the fire; on some have mercy with fear, hating even the garment spotted by the flesh.”

At least two things are evident here. One is that contending sometimes involves an intellectual effort to change the way a person thinks: “Convince some, who doubt.” The other is that contending sometimes involves moral reclamation: go after them into the mess where their perverse ideas have taken them, and snatch them back to safety even while you hate what they are doing.

In reality these things always go together: an effort to change the mind and an effort to change the morals. Contending for the faith is never merely an academic exercise. It’s never merely mental. Because the source of all false doctrine is the pride of the man’s heart not the weakness of his mind.

This is why Jude tells us to grow and pray and stay in the love of God and depend on His mercy before he says anything about how we should contend for the faith. The best argument for the faith is when the saints live it. May we live the faith once for all delivered to the saints. May we contend for the faith. May we grow in our knowledge and love of the faith. And if you’ve never experienced the faith once for all delivered to the saints, recognize your state as a sinner in need of God’s grace, repent of your sin and freely receive His grace and forgiveness in Jesus Christ.

“Father, thank You for Your Word. Help us not to make application of this that takes us beyond the boundaries of our own lives. We are susceptible to denying You as our Master. We routinely seem to find it intriguing that we might be able to just minimize some of Your straightforward demands in order that we might be able to justify our experience. Lord, grant that in tackling these issues, or being tackled by these issues, that we may have the gentleness and meekness of Christ and yet the boldness of those who took their stand in their day. For we pray this in Christ’s name. Amen.”

Jude: The Letter of Jude – Jude 1:1-2

• April 8, 2024
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Jude 1:1-2

Let me invite you to take your copy of God’s Word and turn with me to the little letter of Jude. It’s the second-to-last book in the New Testament, just before the book of Revelation. It’s only one chapter and twenty-five verses long and thus can easily be overlooked. That’s one of the reasons that we’re going to be studying it – because it’s often neglected from the pulpit – and you’ll see why as we move forward in the weeks to come.

As I mentioned, it’s only twenty-five verses long, so perhaps you’ll want to read it regularly over these next several weeks. Trust me; there’s plenty to meditate on and pray over in this mighty message from the pen of Jude – not the least of which is some strange comment about Michael, the archangel, contending with the devil over Moses’ body, angels being kept in chains, and some guys named Balaam, Korah, and Enoch. We’ll get there (Lord willing), and I’ll do the best I can to explain the text and make some applications for us along the way. In the meantime, let’s take a look at the first two verses:

1 Jude, a servant of Jesus Christ and brother of James,

To those who are called, beloved in God the Father and kept for Jesus Christ:

2 May mercy, peace, and love be multiplied to you.

A brief prayer: “Speak, O Lord, as we come to You, to receive the food of Your Holy Word. Take Your truth, plant it deep in us; shape and fashion us in Your likeness” (Speak, O Lord, Stuart Townend and Keith Getty). For it’s in the name of Christ Jesus that we pray, amen.

I don’t want to jump too far ahead of myself, but the entire letter of Jude can be summarized and understood by one word, one verb, and it’s found in verse 3. It’s the word “contend.” Jude says, “I found it necessary to write appealing to you to contend for the faith that was once for all delivered to the saints.” That’s the book of Jude in one word – contend for the faith, fight for the faith, defend the faith. Now, we’ll unpack that more next week, but that’s what this little letter is all about.

It was a matter of urgency for Jude, and it’s really a matter of urgency in every generation. Because we become aware of those who, by their conflicting voices, plunge God’s people into confusion and into chaos. But the issue he’s going to address isn’t the issue of secularism. He’s not talking about what’s coming from outside the church. It’s something far more sinister. It’s the confusion and chaos that emerges from the collapse of conviction in the hearts and minds of those who once believed these things but have lost their confidence in them.

It’s not uncommon at all for folks to visit Mountain Hill or even join our congregation and hear them say something like, “The struggle to find solid teaching and a high view of God and His Word is very real. We visited several churches, and rarely did one begin with the opening of the Word of God.” Or sometimes they’ll say, “We were pleasantly surprised to find a Bible-believing, Bible-teaching, and loving church in our community.” That’s not uncommon. It doesn’t happen every week but it’s frequent enough. And one of the things that comes out of that conversation, when I inquire further, is often the sentiment that many churches and even entire denominations have strayed from orthodoxy, strayed from preaching and practicing “the faith that was once for all delivered to the saints” (v. 3), and folks are actually grateful to find a church that’s attempting to do that.

Now, to be fair, we all agree that Mountain Hill is not a perfect church. In fact, there are no perfect churches, only imperfect churches. Churches are made up of sinners who have been made saints by the blood of Jesus, but we’re not saintly all the time. We still struggle with sin, and consequently, to some degree or another, all churches are places where believers seek to learn the Bible and live in accordance with its teachings – or they should be. So, let’s just understand that while many folks find it refreshing to find little ole Mountain Hill doing these things, there’s still room for us to grow.

However, you want to look at it it’s vital, in every generation, to recognize the threat, to heed the warning, and to keep the faith. And so that’s really what we’re going to be doing over these next few Sundays as we consider this letter. This morning I want to introduce us to the writer, the readers, and the prayer.

The Writer

First off, we’re introduced, in verse 1, to the author, “Jude, a servant of Jesus Christ and brother of James.” There’s only one Jude in the New Testament with a brother named James, and you’ll find him when you read Matthew 13:53-57. You might recall, near the beginning of Jesus’ earthly ministry, He goes back to His hometown of Nazareth to teach and heal, but He gets rejected. This is how it reads:

53 And when Jesus had finished these parables, He went away from there, 54 and coming to His hometown He taught them in their synagogue, so that they were astonished, and said, “Where did this man get this wisdom and these mighty works? 55 Is not this the carpenter’s son? Is not His mother called Mary? And are not His brothers James and Joseph and Simon and Judas? 56 And are not all His sisters with us? Where then did this man get all these things?” 57 And they took offense at Him. But Jesus said to them, “A prophet is not without honor except in His hometown and in His own household.” (Matthew 13:53-57)

The Judas that’s listed there in verse 55 is this Jude, and I believe the reason he’s referring to himself as Jude instead of Judas is so that nobody confuses him with Judas Iscariot – the disciple who betrayed Jesus for 30 pieces of silver. So, Jude identifies himself as the brother of James. The James that Jude refers to is the one who, in Acts 15, is given leadership to the Jerusalem church. James is also the one who gives us the New Testament letter bearing his name, and he’s a half-brother of Jesus, which makes Jude a half-brother of Jesus.

But look back at verse 1. Notice how Jude introduces himself. He’s a servant, a doulos (Greek), a slave, a bond-servant of Jesus, but a brother of James. Now, I don’t know about you, but if I was the half-brother of Jesus I probably would’ve played that card, but not Jude. “I’m Jude. You’ve heard of Jesus. Well, actually, I am his half-brother.” That’s not what he does. Rather, “I’m a brother of James, and a servant of Jesus Christ.”

Oh, and also notice the ordering: Jude, Jesus Christ, and James. Most of us think sequentially when we talk about order: first, second, third, etc., where what’s first is most important. And that happens a lot in the Bible, too, but there’s also a way of ordering where the person or the thing in the middle is most important. We see this demonstrated a lot on platforms and podiums. Think about the presidential race. Usually, you have the primary candidate in the middle and they’re flanked on either side by a spouse and another member of the family or a member of their team, but the person of prominence is in the middle. Where’s Jesus? (In the middle.) Jude is a servant of Jesus.

There’s one other thing that I want you to notice about Jude and then we’ll move on. Look at verse 4 and pay attention to how Jude refers to his half-brother, Jesus. He calls Him, “our only Master and Lord, Jesus Christ.” There was a time when Jesus’ brothers didn’t even believe in Him (John 7:5). Dick Lucas, in his commentary on Jude writes, “no one is too privileged to be exempt from the need to be converted.” The fact that Jude grew up in the same house as Jesus doesn’t mean that he gets a pass. The same is true of Mary, the mother of Jesus, although I know that’s very offensive to our Catholic friends. She needed to be converted. We all need to be converted. And Jude is pointing this out as he introduces himself: “I’m the brother of James, but I’m a servant.”

The Readers

Unlike a lot of letters, for example Paul’s letters to the Corinthians, or the Galatians, or the Thessalonians, or the Ephesians, or the Philippians, we don’t know who Jude’s audience is. Historically speaking, the church has lumped Jude into a group of seven letters that we refer to as the “General Epistles” – that’s James, 1 & 2 Peter, 1-3 John, and Jude. And if you look at how those letters are addressed, they’re typically addressed to Christians that have been disbursed because of growing persecution. So, it’s likely that the audience is Christians everywhere, but what we do know for certain is how Jude views these believers. He gives us a description of them. Jude writes, “To those who are called, beloved in God the Father and kept for Jesus Christ.” And I want to look at those terms briefly.

First, Jude writes to those he says are “called.” What does that mean? Well, there’s a “general call.” It’s extended whenever the gospel is preached. We hear this in places like 1 John 1:3, “that which we have seen and heard we proclaim also to you, so that you too may have fellowship with us; and indeed our fellowship is with the Father and with His Son Jesus Christ.” We hear it in Jesus’ own teaching, “For God so loved the world, that He gave His only Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have eternal life” (John 3:16). But just because the call is extended and the gospel is proclaimed doesn’t mean that everyone responds to the call.

So, Jude must have something more in mind than just those who received a “general” call. And, indeed, he does. It’s a calling that’s described in places like Romans 8:28-30, “And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to His purpose. For those whom He foreknew He also predestined to be conformed to the image of His Son, in order that He might be the firstborn among many brothers. And those whom He predestined He also called, and those whom He called He also justified, and those whom He justified He also glorified.” It’s a calling that’s described in 1 Peter 2:9, “But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for His own possession, that you may proclaim the excellencies of Him who called you out of darkness into His marvelous light.” It’s a call that was extended generally, but was accepted individually.

We heard the call as a kind of vague noise in the background. And then we began to consider and think a little more, until suddenly, one day, in our car, in our home, on our knees, reading a book, whatever it is, you said, “O Lord, You called me! You called me. I’m the weary one. I’m the wanderer. I’m the fainting one.” That’s to whom this letter is addressed: those who are called.

Second, Jude refers to them as “beloved,” but not simply beloved, “beloved in God the Father.” I looked at that, and I said, “Well, surely it’s beloved by God.” Well, the preposition is used purposefully. These individuals are beloved by God, but they are beloved in God. In other words, it addresses the issue of the sphere into which these people have come. Listen to what Jesus tells the disciples in the Upper Room just before His crucifixion. He says, “Because I live, you also will live. In that day you will know that I am in My Father, and you in Me, and I in you. Whoever has My commandments and keeps them, he it is who loves Me. And he who loves Me will be loved by My Father, and I will love him… If anyone loves Me, he will keep My word, and My Father will love him, and we will come to him and make our home with him” (John 14:19-21, 23).

There’s a dimension to it that isn’t just heady. It’s far more significant than that. It’s as if Jude is saying this is a love which stretches all the way across the Old and the New Testament; a love which is unimpaired by time or by distance; a love which is enjoyed in Jesus. You take the picture of the shepherd picking the lamb up, putting it between his shoulders, and bringing it safely into the fold; all of us like sheep going astray (Isaiah 53:6) coming up with our own ideas, heading in our own direction, and the call comes, the call of the Shepherd: “Come to me. I am the Good Shepherd. I give my life for the sheep” (John 10:11, paraphrased). And He picks us up and carries us. So, “called,” “beloved in God,” and lastly, “kept.”

Jude describes his audience as “kept for Jesus Christ.” We’re entering wedding season again, and one of the things that always unnerves me is turning to the Best Man and asking for the ring. Inevitably, you get that one wise guy that thinks it’s funny to pretend he lost the ring. (By the way, that’s never funny. “You’ve got one job, Charlie, and that’s to give me the ring when I ask for it.”)

The keeping power of God is important here. We’re not going to delay, but notice that it’s used three other times in this short letter. It’s used in verse 6, speaking of God’s power to keep rebellious angels “in eternal chains under gloomy darkness until the judgment of the great day.” It’s used again in verse 21 where Jude urges us to “keep [o]urselves in the love of God, waiting for the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ that leads to eternal life.” And it’s used in Jude’s mighty benediction in verse 24, “Now to Him who is able to keep you from stumbling and to present you blameless before the presence of His glory with great joy.” But probably the greatest verse, in my opinion, that outlines the awesome power of God to keep us and hold us and guard us is John 10:28-29 where Jesus says, “I give them eternal life, and they will never perish, and no one will snatch them out of My hand. My Father, who has given them to Me, is greater than all, and no one is able to snatch them out of the Father’s hand.”

This is something that’s vast enough for the greatest mind to ponder, and it’s simple enough for the smallest child to understand: “called,” “beloved,” and “kept.” That’s Jude’s audience, and my question to you is this: does that describe you? Can you identify? If you’ve been to more than one worship service at Mountain Hill, then I can promise you’ve heard the call. Have you responded personally and positively to the call of God? Do you know what it’s like to be a lost sheep who’s found by the Great Shepherd and placed on His shoulders? Is the assurance that you’re safely in the palm of the Father’s hand a reality in your life? If so, then you’re part of Jude’s audience too. If not, may I urge you to surrender your heart and life to our Master and Lord. Confess your sinful state and your tremendous and overwhelming need for His grace, and receive His forgiveness and righteousness by placing your faith and trust in Christ Jesus today.

The Prayer

Jude closes his introduction with a prayer, “May mercy, peace and love be multiplied to you.”

“Mercy,” whereby God does not give us the things that we deserve. The great wonder that dawned on the self-righteous Pharisee Saul of Tarsus when he looks back on things and he says, “To me, I was shown mercy” (1 Timothy 1:16). He didn’t think that he needed mercy. He thought he was in perfect shape until God showed him his incredible need for mercy. Some of my favorite Christian musicians are Keith & Kristyn Getty, and in their song What Grace Is Mine, the first verse says, “What grace is mine that He who dwells in endless light, Called through the night to find my distant soul, And from His scars poured mercy that would plead for me, That I might live and in His name be known.” Do you think much about mercy? I do. Oh, to think about what a predicament I’d be in were it not for Jesus bearing the punishment that I deserve – I’d be absolutely positively without hope in this life and doomed in the next.

Anne Cousins wrote a poem and later a hymn based on the memoirs of Scottish Presbyterian minister, Samuel Rutherford, and one of the verses reads this way:

With mercy and with judgment
My web of time He wove,
And aye, the dews of sorrow
Were lustered by His love;
I’ll bless the hand that guided,
I’ll bless the heart that planned
When throned where glory dwelleth
In Immanuel’s land.

It’s a wonderful picture, isn’t it? Anne says, “As I look back over my life, I realized: with mercy and with great judgment God has woven my story together.” We all have bits and pieces in our story we’d like to change. We all have disappointments that we look back on with regret. But the God who called us, who loves us and keeps us, is the God of mercy. Paul puts it this way in Ephesians 2:4-5, “But God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which He loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ.”

“Peace,” that calm and steady assurance that God is in control. Peace in the face of disruption. Peace in the face of opposition. Peace of mind. Peace in your heart. The prophet Isaiah says, “You will keep in perfect peace the one whose mind is stayed on You, because he trusts in You” (Isaiah 26:3). Our minds are pulled in a million different directions at the same time. Remembering this appointment, recalling that person’s name, thinking about what’s for supper, praying for this, that, and the other. It’s no wonder that people are searching for peace. Do you take time daily to allow your mind to focus on God? Perhaps reading the Bible, perhaps listening to good Christian music, perhaps contemplating His creation in nature, perhaps in prayer as you simply extol the wonders of God’s virtues and character. Jesus said, “Peace I leave with you; My peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid.” Jude prays for mercy and peace.

Finally, there’s “love.” Among the triads in Scripture, love is the common denominator. At the end of 1 Corinthians 13, a part that we didn’t read in our Call to Worship, Paul ends with “faith, hope, and love, but the greatest of these is love.” Jude prays for mercy, peace and love.

This is very important, because I’ll tell you: it’s not uncommon to hear a preacher delivering a sermon on Jude and he gets so excited about contending: “We’re contending!” And so, the guy, his vein gets more and more… “Contending! Contending!” Right? But the same “contending” does not involve being contentious. Because “love is patient and kind.” It “does[n’t] envy or boast; it[’s] not arrogant”; it’s not “rude. It does[n’t] insist on its own way; it[’s] not irritable or resentful; it does[n’t] rejoice at wrongdoing”; it “rejoices with the truth.” It “bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things” (1 Corinthians 13:4-7).

I’ve often pondered the fact that God could’ve made just one fish, could’ve made one animal, could’ve made one flower, could’ve made, like, fifteen stars and be done with it. Why didn’t He do that? Because He’s God! He’s the multiplying God. So, Jude says, “My prayer for you is that these things will not just simply be added to your portfolio, but that they’ll be multiplied to you. Because I was planning on writing, really, all about our common salvation. But I decided that I needed to appeal to you. But I want you to understand, before I come to my appeal, that you are called, that you are beloved, that you are kept, and that I’m praying that mercy, peace, and love will be multiplied to you.”

Well, there you have it – our introduction to the little letter of Jude. Let’s pause for a word of prayer and then we’ll celebrate the Lord’s Table together:

The Hope of Easter – Luke 24:13-24

• April 2, 2024
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Luke 24:13-24

I heard a story about a man who went on vacation to Israel with his wife and his very difficult-to-deal-with and ever-nagging mother-in-law, and while they were there, sadly, the mother-in-law passed away. So, the man was trying to figure out what to do with the body and where to bury her, and he went to a local undertaker and asked about it. The man said, “Sir, it will cost you $5,000 to ship her back to the States, but you can bury her right here in the Holy Land for $150.”

So, the man thought about it briefly and said, “Alright, I’m going to go ahead and ship her back to America.”

And the undertaker said, “Sir, did you hear what I said? You can bury her here in the Holy Land for $150; why would you want to spend $5,000 to ship her back?”

And the man replied, “Well, a long time ago, a man was buried here and three days later he rose again from the dead. And I can’t take that chance.”

You know, you just can’t ignore the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead. It changed human history. It’s changed most of our lives. And because Jesus died and rose again, we have HOPE. If Jesus neve rose from the dead, we’d have no hope. But He did! And because of that we have hope! Our hope isn’t in technology, as advanced as it may be. Our hope isn’t in human solutions, as creative as they are. Our hope certainly isn’t in politicians and governments, because they’ll disappoint. In fact, don’t even put your hope in preachers because we’ll disappoint you too. Listen, if you knew me as well as I know myself, you wouldn’t sit there and listen to me preach today. But if I knew you as well as you know yourself, I wouldn’t talk to you. So, we’re a good match, aren’t we? No, our hope is in God!

It’s been said that man can live 40 days without food, 3 days without water, about 8 minutes without air, but not 1 second without hope.

So, let me ask you; have you lost hope? Maybe you’re here today and you’re secretly a little discouraged. Maybe your life hasn’t gone the way you’d hoped it would go. Perhaps you were hoping you’d be married by now but you’re still single. Or maybe you were hoping that your marriage would be stronger, but it seems worse today than ever. It might even be falling apart. Some of you were hoping your business would’ve succeeded, but it just went belly up. Or maybe you’re unemployed at the moment and you’re finding it difficult to land a job. Maybe school has been more difficult than you imagined. Some of you are celebrating Easter for the first time without a loved one, and it’s left you feeling hopeless. If that’s you (even just a little bit), I want to say I’m glad you here.

If you have your Bibles, I want to invite you to turn with me to Luke 24. We’re going to read about two disciples that had lost hope on the first Easter. They were discouraged and burned out. In their minds, Jesus failed in His mission to be the Messiah. See, they held the view that when the Messiah came He was going to establish His kingdom and rule as King of kings and Lord of lords, which, in their case, meant the overthrow of Rome. And though that’s true – Scripture speaks of the Messiah coming to rule and reign – they failed to understand that He must first suffer and die. So, when Jesus, their friend, their hero, their Messiah, their Lord, was suddenly arrested on false charges and beaten and then murdered in cold blood before their eyes, it seemed as though something had gone horribly wrong.

It was like the train was off the tracks, and so these guys were so down-hearted, so discouraged, so hopeless that they said, “We’ve got to get out of town.” So, they left Jerusalem. They wanted to put as much distance between themselves and the bloody cross and the cold tomb as possible. And they headed to a town called Emmaus. And as they were on their way somebody joined them. Turns out to be Jesus Himself, but they didn’t know it at the time. So, let’s read what happens here in Luke 24:13-24:

13That same day two of Jesus’ followers were walking to the village of Emmaus, seven miles from Jerusalem. 14As they walked along they were talking about everything that had happened. 15As they talked and discussed these things, Jesus himself suddenly came and began walking with them. 16But God kept them from recognizing Him.

17He asked them, “What are you discussing so intently as you walk along?”

They stopped short, sadness written across their faces. 18Then one of them, Cleopas, replied, “You must be the only person in Jerusalem who hasn’t heard about all the things that have happened there the last few days.”

19“What things?” Jesus asked.

“The things that happened to Jesus, the man from Nazareth,” they said. “He was a prophet who did powerful miracles, and He was a mighty teacher in the eyes of God and all the people. 20But our leading priests and other religious leaders handed Him over to be condemned to death, and they crucified Him. 21We had hoped He was the Messiah who had come to rescue Israel. This all happened three days ago.

22“Then some women from our group of His followers were at His tomb early this morning, and they came back with an amazing report. 23They said His body was missing, and they had seen angels who told them Jesus is alive! 24Some of our men ran out to see, and sure enough, His body was gone, just as the women had said.”

Our story begins with two people, Cleopas and another person. Some commentators suggest that it was perhaps a woman. So maybe this was a man and his wife, or maybe it was just two men. The point is this: these weren’t front-line disciples. We’re not reading about Peter, James, or John. No, Jesus first appeared to Mary Magdalene – not even Peter, James or John. Maybe it’s because she was the last at the cross and the first at the empty tomb, and now, here, He’s appearing to these two folks, one of which isn’t even important enough to have their name mentioned.

Quick poll. How many of you were the top student in your class? Raise your hands. Always got the best grades, honor roll, etc.? (Wow, we’ve got a lot of losers out there.) How many of you got mediocre or bad grades? Raise your hands. (Yeah, houses full of losers.) Guess what? I’m with you. When you were in school, did you ever get picked last. At the office, do others slip out to lunch without inviting you?

Jesus went out of His way to reach out to ordinary people, to obscure people; to people that were often forgotten by others.

And it’s interesting to note that as they’re walking along, these two people don’t recognize Jesus. Mark’s gospel includes this interesting little detail, the Bible says, “Afterward Jesus appeared in a different form to two of them while they were walking in the country” (Mark 16:12). I don’t know what that means exactly but it’s clear that they didn’t know it was Jesus walking along with them. And you know what, sometimes we miss that Jesus is walking along with us too. Yet, He’s with us all the time. He’s with us on the sunny days and He’s with us on the cloudy days. He’s with us on the mountain tops and He’s with us in the valleys. He’s with us in our fiery furnaces as He was with Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego. He’s with us in the lion’s den as He was with Daniel.

Isaiah 43:2 says, “When you go through deep waters, I will be with you. When you go through rivers of difficulty, you will not drown. When you walk through the fire of oppression, you will not be burned up; the flames will not consume you.” Are you in the rivers of difficulty right now? Are you in a fire of oppression? Listen, because of Easter, Jesus is here with you! Deuteronomy 31:6 says that “He’ll never leave us or forsake us.”

But the problem with these two chaps is that they’re headed in the wrong direction. They should have stayed in Jerusalem or returned to Galilee with the others, as Jesus had instructed, but instead, these two people wanted to put as much distance between themselves and the cross of Jesus as they could. When you’re down-hearted. When you’re discouraged. When you’ve sinned. The last thing you want to do is run from God; you should run to God. Because of Easter, you can go to God with your troubles – go to God with your questions – go to God with your pain – go to God with your complaints. Easter is proof that Jesus defeated Satan, sin, and the grave, and we can go to Him.

Because of Easter, because of the resurrection, because Jesus is alive today, you can go to God and find forgiveness. These guys were running away from the cross and the tomb when they should’ve been running to the cross. Satan’s objective is to always get you further from the cross, but the Holy Spirit’s objective is to bring you to it.

I heard a story about a little boy in northern England who got lost. The policeman found him crying in the shadows and he asked the little fellow where he lived. But the little guy said he didn’t know where he lived. “You don’t know you’re address son?” “No, I don’t.” So, the constable started listing restaurants and stores and hotels but the boy didn’t recognize any of them. Then the officer looked toward town and in the distance, there was a church that had a large steeple with a cross that was lit up. And he said, “Son, do you live anywhere near that?” And the little boy’s face lit up and he said, “Yes, lead me to the cross. I can find my way home from there.”

Folks, listen to me! Today, because of that first Easter, we have the hope of everlasting life and an eternal relationship with God, but we have to come to Jesus. He’s the One who took upon Himself our sin. He’s the One who took upon Himself the punishment, the pain, the estrangement from God that we deserved. He’s the One whose sacrifice was pleasing to the Father. He’s the One who was victorious over sin and death. And the resurrection is proof! Jesus is alive, and He wants to know you in a real and personal way! He said, “I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in me will live, even though he dies” (John 11:25).

The Apostle Paul, writing about the hope of Easter, says this, “Since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through Him we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we now stand. And we rejoice in the hope of the glory of God” (Romans 5:1-2). And if you’re wondering, “Yeah, but what’s the glory of God? Paul said we rejoice in the hope of the glory of God?”

If you continue reading Chapter 5 of Romans you’ll discover that the glory of God is the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus. That’s the glory of God for Paul, and that’s where our hope lies today – not only Jesus’ life, and His death, but also His resurrection!

Although these guys are going the wrong direction on that first Easter, Jesus doesn’t give up on them. Verse 17, Jesus says, “What are you guys talking about? Why the long faces?” And Cleopas responds and says, “You must be the only person in Jerusalem that hasn’t heard about all the things that have happened in the last few days.” And to add insult to injury verse 21 says, “We had hoped (past tense) He was the Messiah who had come to rescue Israel. This all happened three days ago.”

And Jesus is thinking, “Good heavens! Three days! Hello, don’t you guys remember how many times I said ‘three days?’” And of course, we tend to criticize these characters because we know this is Jesus and we know the rest of the story, but seriously, how many times do we forget what Jesus says to us? How often do we forget the promises and the assurances and the comfort that He gives to us through His Word? We worry when we should pray. We panic when we should trust. We turn away when we should cling.

But Jesus restores their hope, and He does that by taking them to the Scripture. He opened God’s Word and explained it to them. Romans 15:4 says, “For everything that was written in the past was written to teach us, so that through endurance and the encouragement of the Scriptures we might have hope.” So, Jesus says, “How foolish you are, and how slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have spoken! Did not the Christ have to suffer these things and then enter His glory?’ And beginning with Moses and all the Prophets, He explained to them what was said in all the Scriptures concerning Himself.”

Part of the reason that we gather each week (not just on Easter) is because the Scriptures remind us of the hope of Easter, the hope of the resurrection, the fact that Jesus has conquered sin and the grave and is alive forevermore. As Paul writes in his letter to Titus, “[w]e wait for the blessed hope – the glorious appearing of our great God and Savior, Jesus Christ, who gave Himself for us to redeem us . . .” (Titus 2:13-14b). Or as Peter writes in the opening pages of his epistles, “Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! In His great mercy He has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead . . .” (1 Peter 1:3).

Folks, let me remind us all, God is not dead. He’s Alive! And because of that we have hope this Easter!

Good Friday Meditation – Isaiah 52:13-53:12

• March 30, 2024
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Isaiah 52:13-53:12

The scripture I will be reading is printed in your program. All I want you to do is follow along with me. As you do, I want you to pick out a word or two, perhaps a phrase, something that seems especially significant to you, and I want you to write that down on one side of your little red card. Follow along as we read together:

13 Behold, My Servant shall act wisely; He shall be high and lifted up, and shall be exalted. 14 As many were astonished at you – His appearance was so marred, beyond human semblance, and His form beyond that of the children of mankind – 15 so shall He sprinkle many nations. Kings shall shut their mouths because of Him, for that which has not been told them they see, and that which they have not heard they understand.

1 Who has believed what he has heard from us? And to whom has the arm of the LORD been revealed? 2 For He grew up before [God] like a young plant, and like a root out of dry ground; He had no form or majesty that we should look at Him, and no beauty that we should desire Him. 3 He was despised and rejected by men, a Man of sorrows and acquainted with grief; and as One from whom men hide their faces He was despised, and we esteemed Him not.

4 Surely, He has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows; yet we esteemed Him stricken, smitten by God, and afflicted. 5 But He was pierced for our transgressions; He was crushed for our iniquities; upon Him was the chastisement that brought us peace, and with His wounds we are healed. 6 All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned – every one – to his own way; and the LORD has laid on Him the iniquity of us all.

7 He was oppressed, and He was afflicted, yet He opened not His mouth; like a lamb that is led to the slaughter, and like a sheep that before its shearers is silent, so, He opened not His mouth. 8 By oppression and judgment He was taken away; and as for His generation, who considered that He was cut off out of the land of the living, stricken for the transgression of my people? 9 And they made His grave with the wicked and with a rich man in His death, although He had done no violence, and there was no deceit in His mouth.

10 Yet it was the will of the LORD to crush Him; [God] has put Him to grief; when His soul makes an offering for guilt, [God] shall see His offspring; [God] shall prolong His days; the will of the LORD shall prosper in His hand. 11 Out of the anguish of His soul He shall see and be satisfied; by His knowledge shall the righteous One, My Servant, make many to be accounted righteous, and He shall bear their iniquities. 12 Therefore I will divide Him a portion with the many, and He shall divide the spoil with the strong, because He poured out His soul to death and was numbered with the transgressors; yet He bore the sin of many, and makes intercession for the transgressors.

It was all real.

There was a man named Jesus, this much the Roman historian Tacitus tells us. According to the Jewish historian Josephus, He was called the Christ.

His feet swept the dust and sank in the dirt. His hands – cracked and lined with age – held the dead and the dying, the loved and the lying.

Where He went, the people followed, and where He went, the Spirit surged, and where He went, the Father smiled because it was all real.

And because it was all real, our debt that was due came calling. The payment had to be real, and the payment had to be permanent, and the payment had to be rendered. That which was wholly unclean had to be made holy and clean.

So, the man named Jesus, the One who, out of His parted lips came the words, “I AM,” confessed that it was all real.

Thus, the beatings were real, and the lashes were real, and the blood was real, and the thorns were real, and the spit was real, and the mocking was real, and the shame was real, and the scorn was real, and Mary’s pain was real, and John’s pain was real, and HIS pain was real.

And the Cross – not old and rugged but fresh and ruthless, not gilded with gold but jagged with splinters, not clean but cutting – it was real.

The celebrated became lonely, and the skeptic believed. His death, long predicted and predestined was real.

There, at that precise moment in human history, our Savior – the Lord Jesus Christ – both God and man, hung on a cross and became real . . . sin . . . for . . . us (2 Corinthians 5:21).

It was all real.

When I survey the wondrous cross
on which the Prince of glory died,
my richest gain I count but loss,
and pour contempt on all my pride.

See, from his head, his hands, his feet,
sorrow and love flow mingled down.
Did e’er such love and sorrow meet,
or thorns compose so rich a crown?

Were the whole realm of nature mine,
that were a present far too small.
Love so amazing, so divine,
demands my soul, my life, my all.

As Ray begins to play, I want you to take just a few minutes and meditate upon the word(s) that you wrote down. I’d also like to invite you to think about the griefs and sorrows, the transgressions and iniquities and sins that you need to lay upon the cross, and then write those on the other side of the card. When you’re ready, I want to invite you to come forward and pull a nail out of the cross and pierce your red paper and put the nail and the paper into the cross. Perhaps you want to stay here at the front and offer a word of prayer. Maybe you just want to remain near the cross for a moment. Feel the wood. Hold the cold nail. Reflect upon the sacrifice that was made for your sin. Let’s pray:

“Our God and our Father, help us to know that the events of this day are indeed real, that they aren’t myth or fairytale, but are instead actual facts. In light of that reality, help us to embrace the spiritual truth that our sins have been covered by the blood of Jesus. May we, once again, experience your grace, love, mercy, and forgiveness. Into Your care and keeping we commend one another. We pray for our loved ones and for our families and our friends. And we pray that ‘the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God the Father, and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit may rest upon and remain with each one who believes, tonight and forevermore. Amen.’” (2 Corinthians 13:14, adapted).

Maundy Thursday Meditation – Luke 22:14-30

• March 29, 2024
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Luke 22:14-30

“When the hour came, Jesus and His apostles reclined at the table. And He said to them, ‘I have eagerly desired to eat this Passover with you before I suffer. For I tell you, I will not eat it again until it finds fulfillment in the kingdom of God.’

“After taking the cup, He gave thanks and said, ‘Take this and divide it among you. For I tell you I will not drink again of the fruit of the vine until the kingdom of God comes.’

“And He took bread, gave thanks and broke it, and gave it to them, saying, ‘This is My body given for you; do this in remembrance of Me.’

“In the same way, after the supper He took the cup, saying, ‘This cup is the new covenant in My blood, which is poured out for you. But the hand of him who is going to betray Me is with Mine on the table. The Son of Man will go as it has been decreed, but woe to that man who betrays Him.’ They began to question among themselves which of them it might be who would do this.

“Also, a dispute arose among them as to which of them was considered to be greatest. Jesus said to them, ‘The kings of the Gentiles lord it over them; and those who exercise authority over them call themselves benefactors. But you are not to be like that. Instead, the greatest among you should be like the youngest, and the one who rules like the one who serves. For who[’s] greater, the one who is at the table or the one who serves? Is it not the one who is at the table? But I am among you as One who serves. You are those who have stood by Me in My trials. And I confer on you a kingdom, just as My Father conferred one on Me, so that you may eat and drink at My table in My kingdom and sit on thrones, judging the twelve tribes of Israel.’”

“Father, we ask for Your help as we think for just a moment or two about some of these words. After giving our attention to Your Word, then, we’ll do as You’ve asked and remember You around the table. For we offer this prayer in Jesus’ name. Amen.”

The Gift of Memory

Among our congregation, I know that many of you think about memory or, perhaps more specifically, memory loss. Memory is one of the greatest and most precious gifts that God has given – at least in terms of our physical bodies. And it’s for that reason that a loss of memory is one of the saddest and most cruel things that can happen to an individual. Therefore, it’s quite remarkable to consider the frequency with which the Bible calls the people of God to remember, and not only for our remembrance but also provides aids for our remembrance.

For example, the Passover itself, of which we read way back in Exodus, all of the emblems were not only to be performed on that initial occasion but were to be written into the consciousness of God’s people from that day on. It’s within that framework that these events are now taking place.

You find the same thing when God gives instruction for stones to be set up as memorial stones. He says, “when your children or your grandchildren have occasion to ask, ‘What do these stones mean?’ you can tell them that just as God intervened and set us free from Egypt, so He intervened – brought His people not only through the parted waters of the Red Sea, but He also brought them through the parted waters of the Jordan” (Joshua 4:5-7, paraphrased). And the stones would serve as a memorial to that end.

And then, of course, in our immediate context Jesus, in the institution of what we refer to as the Lord’s Supper, gives to us these wonderful aids for our reflection, for our recollection, and for our memory.

Assuming that Jesus and His disciples ministered together for a total of three years, then this was their final Passover, and Jesus is said to have been eagerly wanting to spend it with them. But they still hadn’t made the connection between the Passover and Jesus’ impending death for sinners. In fact, it must have been quite startling to them when Jesus took the bread and the wine, and told them that this was symbolic of His body being broken and His blood being shed. And just like in the Passover they rejoiced in their liberation from Egypt and the bonds of evil from the hands of Pharaoh, so now they would be able to rejoice in the way in which He, in His death, was liberating sinners, casting them free from the shackles that bound them to their past and to their guilt.

And it’s for this very reason that we’re able to view this meal as a meal that’s been provided for those of us who understand and believe. Who believe what? Well, who believe that it’s a futile attempt on anyone’s part to try to be good enough to make oneself acceptable to God . . . who believe that all acceptance with God is found only in the atoning death of Jesus . . . who believe that although they’re sinful and although they’re guilty and although they’re burdened, that in coming to Jesus, He puts “their sins as far away as the east is from the west” (Psalm 103:12), so much so that even when the Accuser comes to remind them of these things they’re able to resist him firm in the faith and remind themselves and the Accuser that they have an Advocate with the Father (Christ Jesus) and that all of their sins have been nailed to the cross; so that when Jesus, in this simple ceremony, takes the bread and breaks it, it’s symbolic of Christ’s broken body on behalf of sinners; when they, then, in turn would take the bread and eat it, it would be a reminder to them of what it means to have received Jesus Christ, to have accepted Him in all of His work and all of His wonder, and to have been made part of His family; that when the wine was poured out, it would be indicative of the blood of Jesus being shed on behalf of sinners. And to the extent that wine was given to cheer and enrich the body, so there would be in this sacrifice and ceremony that which would lift and encourage and lighten the load and send those who participated out with all the joyful remembrances that were there.

Could They Forget Jesus?

And it is within that context that Jesus says something that is quite fantastic. And here it is. He says, “Do this in remembrance of me.” Have you ever wondered if it was possible for the apostles to forget Jesus? Most commentators say that when Jesus said “Do this in remembrance of Me,” what He’s referring to is the significance of His death. In other words, they argue that He’s not actually saying, “Do this so that you will remember Me.” He’s saying, “Do this so that you will remember Who I am and what I have done.” Well, clearly that’s part of it. But let me ask you a question: Don’t you think there’s some validity in Jesus actually saying, “Do this so that you will remember Me”?

Think about it for a minute. Is it possible that the apostles – who were all in the room and gathered around the table – could actually forget about Jesus being with them? If you think not, then let me point you to verse 24, which says that a “dispute arose among them as to which of them was the greatest.” “Eh hum, excuse me boys. Have you forgotten that Jesus is in the room?” And just in case you’re beginning to think that you’d never forget about Jesus, let me ask you: Where has your mind wandered thus far in this service? If you’re completely honest, then perhaps you’ve discovered that your mind has wandered off of Jesus too.

Charles Spurgeon is such a help to pastors like me. In fact, I ran across a little ditty about Spurgeon that goes like this:

There once was a preacher called Spurgy
Who really detested liturgy,
But his sermons are fine,
And I use them as mine,
And so do most of the clergy.

So, I went to Spurgeon and I found a sermon preached in 1855 on this very phrase: “Do this in remembrance of me.” Listen to what he said to his congregation, “I know what it’s like to forget Christ, and let me tell you how it happens.” He says it happens by two means.

First, he told his congregation that his heart was “a cage of unclean birds, a den of loathsome creatures, where dragons haunt and owls do congregate” (C. H. Spurgeon, “The Remembrance of Christ,” The New Park Street Pulpit 1, no. 2, 10. Paraphrased). So, here’s Spurgeon, the Prince of Preachers, the one who holds London in sway, and he says, “Well, maybe some of you won’t forget Jesus, but I want you to know that I am very good at forgetting Jesus. And I’ll tell you why: because my heart, my soul, is a cage of unclean birds.”

Second, he said, “And the reason I can forget Him is because far too many other things attract me and occupy me.” And picturing the moon and the sun, he uses the analogy of the sun in all of its largeness, so much more significance in size than the moon, and yet the moon being far more influential on the ocean tides of our planet. And Spurgeon makes the point that the reason the moon has the influence that it does is because of its proximity to the earth. And so, he says, “Here is my problem in forgetting Christ”:

So, I find that a little crawling worm [upon] the earth has more effect upon my soul than the glorious Christ [of] heaven; … a puff of fame, a shout of applause, a thriving business, my house, my home, will affect me more than all the glories of [heaven]; … simply because earth is near, and heaven is far away.

The memorial meal in which we share serves, then, to draw us away from all that distracts us, to turn us away from all that infects us, and to bring us close to all that actually matters in all the world. It’s a means of drawing near.

Jesus says, “Do this so that you won’t forget Me, so that you will remember Me.”

How Should We Remember Him?

And so, as we come around this Table tonight, let us remember Christ. How should we remember him? Well, I’m not going to preach, but let me give you a few areas you may wish to recall.

First, you may wish to remember Him in His baptism as He comes up out of the waters of the Jordan – He who created water buried beneath His own creation for a moment, identified as the Messiah of God, identifying with sinners in His baptism. That’s one.

Or you may want to think about Him in His temptation. Adam in the garden of Eden had fought a battle with temptation and failed. Jesus in the garden of Gethsemane fought a battle with temptation and was victorious. And in that temptation He provided for us a way of escape, so that tonight, as you remember Him, you may want to remember the fact that you will never be tempted beyond that that you are able, because He with the temptation will provide you a way of escape (1 Corinthians 10:13). You have a High Priest who knows what it’s like to face your temptations. You have a High Priest who is like us in every way and yet without sin (Hebrews 4:15).

You may want to ponder Him in the garden of Gethsemane as He’s deeply troubled and distressed, or to think about Him on the cross and that great unanswered cry, “My God, my God, why have You forsaken Me?” (Matthew 27:46). And no answer ever comes. The very silence is the answer. And you may want to think about the fact, as you take this cup tonight, that Christ was ruined, that Christ was separated from that which He’d known from all of eternity in order that we might be able to call Him Abba, Father.

But wherever you choose to settle your mind, let us remember Christ.

“Father, why would Jesus ever exhort His disciples in this way if it were somehow unnecessary or irrelevant? We confess with Spurgeon that our souls are the habitation of all kinds of loathsome designs and desires. We confess that stuff, things around us, calendars and agendas and plans and so much more clamor for our attention. And so, it’s good for us to gather round this Table and to realize that all of our acceptance with You is found in Christ alone – that He’s the One who is our robe of righteousness, He’s the One who is our beautiful clothing, He’s the One in whom we hide, and He’s the One in whom You see us. Thank You that our lives are “hidden with Christ in God” (Colossians 3:3).

Help us now, as we crown the worship of our day in passing these elements to one another. May we do so with a spirit of genuine joy and thanksgiving. For we pray in Christ’s name. Amen.”

Spiritual Disciplines (Forgiveness) – Luke 7:36-50

• March 25, 2024
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Luke 7:36-50

Let me invite you to take your copy of God’s Word and turn with me to Luke 7. I failed to update the bulletin properly and provide Mary-Lu with the correct text for this morning’s message, so please forgive me. After all, we’re going to be considering the act of forgiveness, so what better way to begin than with an apology and a request for forgiveness. That’s easy, right? You can forgive that, surely. Yes?!

But suppose the offense is deeper? What happens if it’s not a run-of-the-mill mistake? What if the offense cuts to the heart? What if the offense is so significant that you can’t sleep, that there’s literally pain and uneasiness in your chest (and heart), and the words and memories of the person or their actions are stuck in your mind? What then? Do you find it difficult to forgive? And what if you’re the person seeking forgiveness? How is it that we find forgiveness? Where do you go then?

That’s what we’re going to consider (briefly) this morning. Now, keep in mind, I cannot, in the course of one sermon uncover or unpack all that’s involved in this divine transaction. It’s too great, too magnificent, too stupendous a concept and reality that it might consume a person’s entire lifetime of study. Rather, what I hope to do is simply outline the reality of biblical forgiveness and encourage us to embrace it and practice it (be it ever so poorly). And why should we seek to embrace it and practice it? Because we (ourselves) have been the recipients of God’s tremendous forgiveness in Christ Jesus.

To that end, let’s read one of several encounters in the Gospels where we see forgiveness on display (Luke 7:36-50):

36 One of the Pharisees asked Him to eat with Him, and He went into the Pharisee’s house and reclined at table. 37 And behold, a woman of the city, who was a sinner, when she learned that He was reclining at table in the Pharisee’s house, brought an alabaster flask of ointment, 38 and standing behind Him at His feet, weeping, she began to wet His feet with her tears and wiped them with the hair of her head and kissed His feet and anointed them with the ointment. 39 Now when the Pharisee who had invited Him saw this, he said to himself, “If this Man were a prophet, He would have known who and what sort of woman this is who is touching Him, for she is a sinner.” 40 And Jesus answering said to him, “Simon, I have something to say to you.” And he answered, “Say it, Teacher.”

41 “A certain moneylender had two debtors. One owed five hundred denarii, and the other fifty. 42 When they could not pay, he cancelled the debt of both. Now which of them will love him more?” 43 Simon answered, “The one, I suppose, for whom he cancelled the larger debt.” And He said to him, “You have judged rightly.” 44 Then turning toward the woman He said to Simon, “Do you see this woman? I entered your house; you gave Me no water for My feet, but she has wet My feet with her tears and wiped them with her hair. 45 You gave Me no kiss, but from the time I came in she has not ceased to kiss My feet. 46 You did not anoint My head with oil, but she has anointed My feet with ointment. 47 Therefore I tell you, her sins, which are many, are forgiven – for she loved much. But he who is forgiven little, loves little.” 48 And He said to her, “Your sins are forgiven.” 49 Then those who were at table with Him began to say among themselves, “Who is this, who even forgives sins?” 50 And He said to the woman, “Your faith has saved you; go in peace.”

“God our Father, we thank You that we can gather together this morning around Your most holy Word. As we think together, as we endeavor to bring our minds to bear upon the truth of Scripture, we pray that You might allow the Word of God to dwell within us richly. Help us, Lord, to this end, we pray, for Jesus’ sake. Amen.”

The Reality of Forgiveness

Perhaps the most striking thing about biblical Christianity is the fact of forgiveness. Since I started preaching (just a moment ago), I’ve referred to forgiveness as a reality and a fact. The reason for that is because, starting at the very beginning of the Bible and running continuously until the last page of Scripture, we’re introduced to a God who, at every point and every place, is ready to forgive. Forgiveness isn’t some psychological crutch used to assuage our guilt – it’s a divine reality. Charles Hodge, a Presbyterian theologian and principal of Princeton Theological Seminary in the early 1800’s said, “guilt can only be removed by punishment; either the sinner, himself, must bear it or a substitute must be provided.” This is a reality that all of us face, and it’s why we need to see forgiveness as a divine reality and fact. God, through Christ Jesus, has the authority and the power to forgive sins.

It’s perhaps the distinguishing feature of Christianity. And being a Christian – at least to the outside world – is perhaps centered in the creedal statement “I believe in the forgiveness of sins…” (Nicene Creed). So, the psalmist writes, “You, Lord, are forgiving and good, abounding in love to all who call to You” (Psalm 86:5, NIV). What a wonderful word to take with you to the office, or to the golf course, or to the gym, or to your school, or to your community tomorrow – to people who wonder who God is, if God is, how God can be known, where He can be known, what He’s like, and how He would reveal Himself. The psalmist says that He reveals Himself in, by, and through His forgiveness, which is good and abounding in love. He’s a forgiving God – forgiving wickedness and rebellion and sin.

It’s with that understanding that you come to passages like Psalm 130:3-4, “If you, O LORD, should mark iniquities, O Lord, who could stand? But with You there is forgiveness, that You may be feared.” Or perhaps the most classic example, Psalm 31, which begins with these words, “Blessed is the one whose transgression is forgiven, whose sin is covered. Blessed is the man against whom the LORD counts no iniquity, and in whose spirit there is no deceit.” One commentator says this, “One must have a dull ear not to hear the voice of personal experience in this psalm. It throbs with emotion, and is a burst of rapture from a heart tasting the sweetness of the new joy of forgiveness” (Expositor’s Bible Commentary).

Personal Experience of Forgiveness

There may be some of you here this morning who have various concepts and notions about forgiveness, but you don’t have a personal experience of being forgiven. And until that happens, until you have a personal experience of being forgiven by God, your ideas about God may be fair enough, they might be close to the Bible, but they will ultimately be merely the affirmations of a creed that you’ve borrowed or the statements of a second-hand religion – statements that momma, or granddaddy, or aunt Suzie used to say. Peter writes, “For Christ also suffered once for sins, the righteous for the unrighteous, that He might bring us to God” (1 Peter 3:18a). Puritan church leader and Oxford theologian from the 1600’s, John Owen, said, “There’s not the least encouragement to a sinner to deal with God without the discovery of forgiveness in Him. For God is known in truth only in the forgiveness of sins. In this knowledge of God as the forgiver of sins all knowledge of Him is compounded.”

Think about that. People say, “I know God, or I met God, or I’m into God” or whatever, and John Owen says, “No, you didn’t.” The only way you can ever know God is ultimately in knowing Him as the One who forgives your sins. And according to the Bible, that’s in the person and work of Jesus of Nazareth. What have you to say about Jesus? What have you done with the man on the middle cross? Do you believe Him to be the “Lamb of God who came to take away the sin in [your] life” (John 1:29, adapted)? Unless you know God as the One who provided forgiveness of your sins through Jesus, then you don’t know God, because ALL of the knowledge of God is compounded in this one dimension.

If you doubt what I’m saying, then all you need to do is read history, read the biography of Martin Luther by Eric Metaxas. Steve Perry let me borrow his copy many months ago. In fact, I believe it was several years ago, and I’ve been reading a little here and a little there (as time has permitted). And when you read Luther’s biography, then you’ll be reminded of the fact that Luther knew the creed. Luther believed the creed. Luther could recite the creed, but he didn’t have a personal assurance that his sins were forgiven. And he owed the discovery of that, humanly speaking, to his mentor, Johann von Staupitz, who said, “Hey, Martin! When Christ died for sins on the cross, He didn’t just die for Paul’s sins and He didn’t just die for Peter’s sins, He died for YOUR sins!” And it was in that discovery that the door of Reformation swung wide on its hinges. Finally, Luther realized that he would know God, discover God, meet God, love God when he accepted the true forgiveness of his sins in Christ – not in the mere recitations of prayers, or creeds, or the comings and goings of formalized religion.

Do you know that all of your stinky, rotten, filthy, dirty, guilt-ridden sins are forgiven in Jesus’ death upon the cross of Calvary? All of your thoughts, all of your animosity, all of your anger, all of your spite, all of your stuff is forgiven! That’s why the best of hymns take us there. It’s still a mystery to me that Horatio Spafford included the second verse in his famous hymn, It Is Well with My Soul. I mean, you know the story, right?

The hymn was written after several traumatic events in Spafford’s life. The first being the Great Chicago Fire of 1871, which ruined him financially. His business interests were further hit by the economic downturn of 1873, at which time he had planned to travel to England with his family on the SS Ville du Havre, to help with D. L. Moody’s upcoming evangelistic campaigns. In a late change of plan, Spafford sent the family ahead while he was delayed on business concerning zoning problems following the Great Chicago Fire. While crossing the Atlantic Ocean, the ship sank rapidly after a collision with another vessel and all four of Spafford’s daughters died. Spafford’s wife, Anna, survived and sent him the now famous telegram, “Saved alone…”. Shortly after receiving the news, Spafford traveled to meet his grieving wife, and he was inspired to write these words as his ship passed near where his daughters had died:

When peace like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to know
It is well, it is well, with my soul.

Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come,
Let this blest assurance control,
That Christ hath regarded my helpless estate,
And hath shed His own blood for my soul.

My sin, oh, the bliss of this glorious thought!
My sin, not in part but the whole,
Is nailed to His cross, and I bear it no more,
Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!

Where are you coming up with this stuff, Spafford? Your daughters just drowned. There’s just you and your wife left. “Ah, no!” he said. This is THE great thing: “My sin, oh, the bliss of this glorious thought! My sin, not in part but the whole [shooting match], Is nailed to His cross, and I bear it no more, Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!” See, what many people leave out of the story, if, in fact, it’s true, is that just before he put his family on that ship, they were attending one of Moody’s evangelistic revivals in Chicago. And Moody in his great style of preaching extended a call for men and women, boys and girls to accept God’s offer of forgiveness in the Lord, Jesus Christ, and Spafford’s daughters (each one of them) on that evening trusted in Christ.

Divine Forgiveness Is Absolute

Do you realize that God’s forgiveness of our sins is absolute? He doesn’t forgive in degrees. He doesn’t forgive in little bits here and there. “I’ll forgive you for last month and then we’ll see how you do, and then maybe I’ll forgive you for next month, and so on.” No! God’s forgiveness in Jesus is absolute. And differ though we may in the sins that we’ve committed, we do NOT differ in the fact that we’re all sinners. We’re like diseased trees. Some of us have branches and shoots of sin coming out of us that are peculiar to each of us, the way that sin has ravaged our lives, the foolish choices and sorry mistakes we’ve made, the bad turns on the road – distinctive and individualistic to ourselves – and yet we’re all in need of God’s forgiveness.

Poet and Anglican priest, John Donne, wrote a poem called A Hymn to God the Father, in which he writes:

Wilt thou forgive that sin where I begun,
Which was my sin, though it were done before?
Wilt thou forgive that sin, through which I run,
And do run still, though still I do deplore?
When thou hast done, thou hast not done,
For I have more.

Wilt thou forgive that sin which I have won
Others to sin, and made my sin their door?
Wilt thou forgive that sin which I did shun
A year or two, but wallow’d in, a score?
When thou hast done, thou hast not done,
For I have more.

I have a sin of fear, that when I have spun
My last thread, I shall perish on the shore;
But swear by thyself, that at my death thy Son
Shall shine as he shines now, and heretofore;
And, having done that, thou hast done;
I fear no more.

The forgiveness of God is absolute. The prophet Isaiah, speaking on behalf of God to the nation of Israel says, “I, I am He who blots out your transgressions for My own sake, and I will not remember your sins” (Isaiah 43:25). Any talk about the forgiveness of God that doesn’t take us to the cross is just vague and unconvincing. Because only a cross-centered gospel takes your sin and my sin seriously. “But God shows His love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us” (Romans 5:8). In the words of Isaac Watts, “Alas! and did my Savior bleed, and did my Sovereign die! Would He devote that sacred head for sinners such as I?”

Simon said, “I don’t know what You’re talking about Jesus. If you knew that woman and what she’s done, then You’d get her out of here. Blubbering and stinking the place up with her perfume and fiddling around with Your feet with her tears and snotty mess.” Jesus said, “You haven’t got a clue. You know the creed. You can say the stuff. You can wear the clothes. You can do all the right stuff on the outside, but I tell you; she understands. For she has been forgiven much.”

Are you forgiven, today? I mean, personally. Do you know what it means to know the forgiveness of God in Christ Jesus? If not, then what are you waiting for? It’s on offer. All that you have to do is agree with God that you’re a sinner in need of His grace. Confess the reality that you’re a sinner and the only way to get cleaned up is to receive His forgiveness in Jesus. “I urge you, in the name of Jesus, be reconciled to God” (2 Corinthians 5:20, paraphrased).

On the other hand, if you HAVE received God’s forgiveness in Christ, then who are you to withhold forgiveness from someone who’s wronged you? Was their sin wrong? I’m certain it was. Was their slight painful? No doubt about it. Did it cut you to the core? You bet it did! Does it still hurt today? Absolutely! I’m not taking any of that away. But with your eyes upon the cross, with my eyes upon the cross, knowing how much we’ve been forgiven, it’s a small thing to let God handle that. We’re not excusing sin. We’re not condoning hurtful words and actions. We’re simply allowing God to work through us, as witnesses of the gospel of Jesus Christ.

“Father, we thank You that Your Word pulsates with the love that drew the plan of salvation. Thank You, gracious Father, that instead of punishing us You meted out Your wrath upon Your Son. What a thought: Bearing shame and scoffing rude, in my place condemned He stood. And sealed my pardon with His blood. Hallelujah! What a Savior! O God, remind us that forgiveness isn’t a theological theory, but a flesh and blood reality. Thank You for saving us, Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.”

Spiritual Disciplines (Repentance) – Psalm 51:1-19

• March 18, 2024
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Psalm 51:1-19

Let me invite you to take your copy of God’s Word and turn with me to Psalm 51. In Eugene Peterson’s excellent book, Run with Horses, he tells the following story of his frustration trying to remove the blade from his lawnmower.

To be told we are wrong is sometimes an embarrassment, even a humiliation. We want to run and hide our heads in shame. But there are times when finding out we are wrong is sudden and immediate relief, and we can lift up our heads in hope. No longer do we have to keep doggedly trying to do something that isn’t working.

A few years ago, I was in my backyard with my lawnmower tipped on its side. I was trying to get the blade off so I could sharpen it. I had my biggest wrench attached to the nut but couldn’t budge it. I got a four-foot length of pipe and slipped it over the wrench handle to give me leverage, and I leaned on that – still unsuccessfully.

Next, I took a large rock and banged on the pipe. By this time, I was beginning to get emotionally involved with my lawnmower. Then my neighbor walked over and said that he had a lawnmower like mine once and that, if he remembered correctly, the threads on the bolt went the other way. I reversed my exertions and, sure enough, the nut turned easily.

I was glad to find out I was wrong. I was saved from frustration and failure. I would never have gotten the job done, no matter how hard I tried, doing it my way.

What a great analogy and metaphor of repentance. Psalm 51 is one of the few psalms that we are able to pinpoint its historical origin. The heading of the psalm goes like this: “To the choirmaster. A Psalm of David, when Nathan the prophet went to him, after he had gone in to Bathsheba.” Most of us (if not all) know what happened with David and Bathsheba, but just for review or in case you’re a bit fuzzy, here’s the situation (in a nutshell).

King David was supposed to be out fighting with his men, but instead, he had chosen to stay back at the palace. As he’s walking on the rooftop one evening, he spots Bathsheba taking bath. He sends for her and when she answers his call he sleeps with her. He sends her home, only to discover later that she’s pregnant with his child. In order to keep this under wraps, David sends for Bathsheba’s husband, Uriah, to come in from the fighting. But Uriah is more noble than the king and he refuses to leave his men. So, David instructs his military commanders to place Uriah at the front where he will be killed. And, indeed, that’s what happened. David, then, takes Bathsheba to be his wife.

In one of the most understated sentences of the Bible, 2 Samuel 11:27 reads: “The thing that David had done displeased the Lord.” So, God sent the prophet Nathan to David with a parable that entices David to pronounce his own condemnation. Then Nathan says, “You are the man!” and asks, “Why have you despised the word of the Lord?” David breaks and confesses, “I have sinned against the Lord.” Then Nathan says, astonishingly, “The Lord also has put away your sin; you shall not die. Nevertheless, because by this deed you have utterly scorned the Lord, the child who is born to you shall die” (2 Samuel 12:7–15). And Psalm 51 is David’s response to this entire ordeal. Let’s read it:

1 Have mercy on me, O God, according to Your steadfast love; according to Your abundant mercy blot out my transgressions. 2 Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity and cleanse me from my sin!

3 For I know my transgressions, and my sin is ever before me. 4 Against You, You only, have I sinned and done what is evil in Your sight, so that You may be justified in Your words and blameless in Your judgment. 5 Behold, I was brought forth in iniquity, and in sin did my mother conceive me. 6 Behold, You delight in truth in the inward being, and You teach me wisdom in the secret heart.

7 Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean; wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow. 8 Let me hear joy and gladness; let the bones that You have broken rejoice. 9 Hide Your face from my sins and blot out all my iniquities. 10 Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me. 11 Cast me not away from Your presence and take not Your Holy Spirit from me. 12 Restore to me the joy of Your salvation and uphold me with a willing spirit.

13 Then I will teach transgressors Your ways, and sinners will return to You. 14 Deliver me from bloodguiltiness, O God, O God of my salvation, and my tongue will sing aloud of Your righteousness. 15 O Lord, open my lips, and my mouth will declare Your praise. 16 For You will not delight in sacrifice, or I would give it; You will not be pleased with a burnt offering. 17 The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, You will not despise.

18 Do good to Zion in Your good pleasure; build up the walls of Jerusalem; 19 then will You delight in right sacrifices, in burnt offerings and whole burnt offerings; then bulls will be offered on Your altar.

“Our Father and our God, with our Bibles open before us, will You come to our help; will You remove from us every distraction and enable us to think on these things that the entrance of Your Word may bring light into our darkness. We seek this in Christ’s name. Amen.”

Psalm 51 is the way God’s people think and feel about the horrors of their own sin. It’s a psalm about how to be crushed for our sin (in a good manner). I’m going to try and guide us through four of David’s responses to his sin.

David Turns To God

First, he turns to his only hope, the mercy and love of God. Verse 1 says, “Have mercy on me, O God, according to Your steadfast love; according to Your abundant mercy blot out my transgressions.” Three times, David calls upon the mercy of God. This is what God had promised in Exodus 34:6–7: “The Lord, the Lord, a God merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness, keeping steadfast love for thousands, forgiving iniquity and transgression and sin, but who will by no means clear the guilty.”

David knew that there were two kinds of guilty people: those who would not be forgiven, and those, who by some mysterious work of redemption, would be forgiven. Psalm 51 is his way of laying hold on that mystery of mercy. Today, we know more of the mystery of this redemption than David did. We know Jesus. But we lay hold of the mercy in the same way he did. The first thing he does is turn helplessly to the mercy and love of God. The same is true for you and me. We turn helplessly to Christ.

David Prays For Cleansing

Second, he prays for cleansing from his sin. Verse 2 continues, “Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin.” Verse 7 says, “Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean; wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.” Hyssop was the branch used by the priests to sprinkle blood on a house that had a disease in it to declare it clean (Leviticus 14:51). David is crying out to God as his ultimate priest that He would forgive him and count him clean from his sin.

It’s right and good that Christians ask God to do this. 1 John 1:8–9 says, “If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us. If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.” Christ has purchased our forgiveness. He’s paid the price (in full). That doesn’t replace our asking. Rather, it’s the basis for our asking. It’s the reason we’re confident that the answer will be yes. So, first David looks helplessly to the mercy of God. And second, he prays that, in this mercy, God would forgive him and make him clean.

David Confesses The Seriousness Of His Sin

David confesses at least five ways that his sin is extremely serious.

First, he says that he can’t get the sin out of his mind. It’s blazoned on his conscience. Verse 3: “For I know my transgressions, and my sin is ever before me.” Ever before him. The tape keeps playing. And he can’t stop it.

Second, he says that the exceeding sinfulness of his sin is that it is only against God. Nathan had said David despised God and scorned His Word. So, David says in verse 4: “Against You, You only, have I sinned and done what is evil in Your sight.” Of course, this doesn’t mean Bathsheba and Uriah and the baby weren’t hurt. It means that what makes sin sin is that it’s against God. Hurting man is bad. It’s horribly bad. But that’s not the horror of sin. Sin is an attack on God – a belittling of God. And David admits this.

Third, David vindicates God, not himself. There’s no self-justification. No defense. No escape. Verse 4: “so that You may be justified in Your words and blameless in Your judgment.” God is justified. God is blameless. If God casts David into hell, it’s completely justified and right. This is radical God-centered repentance. This is the way saved people think and feel. God would be just to damn me. And that I am still breathing is sheer mercy. And that I am forgiven is sheer blood-bought mercy. So, David vindicates the righteousness of God, not himself.

Fourth, David intensifies his guilt by drawing attention to his inborn corruption. Verse 5: “Behold, I was brought forth in iniquity, and in sin did my mother conceive me.” Some people use their inborn corruption to diminish their personal guilt. David does the opposite. For him the fact that he committed adultery and murder and lied are expressions of something worse: He is by nature that way. If God doesn’t rescue him, he’s only going to do more and more evil.

Fifth, David admits he sinned, not just against the external law but against God’s mercy in his heart. Verse 6: “Behold, You delight in truth in the inward being, and You teach me wisdom in the secret heart.” God had been his teacher. God had made him wise. God had given him strength and power. David had done so many wise things. But sin had gotten the upper hand. And, for David, this made it all the worse. It’s as if David is saying, “I’ve been blessed with so much knowledge and so much wisdom. How deep is my corruption that I could sin against the God who loves me so much.”

So, in those five ways, (at least) David joins the prophet Nathan and God in condemning his sin and confessing the depths of his corruption. He turns to God. He prays for cleansing. He confesses the seriousness of his sin. And finally…

David Pleads For Renewal

After turning helplessly to God for mercy, and praying for forgiveness and cleansing, and then confessing the depth and seriousness of his sin and corruption, David pleads for renewal. He’s passionately committed to being changed by God. He pours out his heart for this change in at least six ways. And I only have time to draw your attention to them.

The main point is: Forgiven people are committed to being changed by God. The adulterer, the murderer, the liar, the child molester, the idolater, however you consider yourself before coming to know Jesus – all of them hate what they were and set their faces like flint to be changed by God.

First, he prays that God would reassure him of his election. Verse 11 says, “Cast me not away from Your presence, and take not Your Holy Spirit from me.” I know some say that Christians who are elect and secure in the sovereign grace of God shouldn’t pray like that because it implies you can lose your salvation. I don’t think so. Rather, when we pray this way, what we mean is, “Don’t treat me as one who is not chosen. Don’t let me prove to be like one of those in Hebrews 6 who have only tasted the Holy Spirit. Don’t let me fall away and show that I was only drawn by the Spirit and not held by the Spirit. Confirm to me, O God, that I am Your child and will never fall away.”

Second, he prays for a heart and a spirit that are new and right and firm. “Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me” (Psalms 51:10). The “right spirit” is the established, firm, unwavering spirit. He wants to be done with the kind of instability that he’s just experienced.

Third, he prays for the joy of God’s salvation and for a spirit that’s joyfully willing to follow God’s Word and be generous with people rather than exploiting people. Verse 8: “Let me hear joy and gladness; let the bones that You have broken rejoice.” Verse 12: “Restore to me the joy of Your salvation, and uphold me with a willing spirit.”

I find it interesting that nowhere in this Psalm does he pray directly about sex? It all started with sex. That led to deceit, which led to murder. Why isn’t David crying out for sexual restraint? Why isn’t he praying for men to hold him accountable? Why isn’t he praying for protected eyes and sex-free thoughts? The reason is that he knows that sexual sin is a symptom, not the disease. People’s spirits, people’s hearts, people’s affections aren’t steadfast and firm and established on Christ as they should. Thus, we waver. We’re enticed, and we give in to sin because God doesn’t captivate our hearts and our minds in those moments as He should. David knew this about himself. And it’s true about us too (if we’re honest).

Fourth, he asked God to bring him to a place of joyful praise. Verse 15: “O Lord, open my lips, and my mouth will declare Your praise.” As the choir sang this morning, “Troubled soul, the Savior can feel, Every heartache and tear. Burdens are lifted at Calvary, Jesus is very near” (John Moore). That’s what he’s praying for: O God, overcome everything in my life that keeps my heart dull and my mouth shut when they ought to be praising. Make my joy irrepressible.

Fifth, he asks that the upshot of all this will be a life of effective evangelism. “Then I will teach transgressors Your ways, and sinners will return to You.” David isn’t content to be forgiven. He’s not content to be clean. He’s not content to be among the elect. He not content to have a right spirit. He’s not content to be joyful in God by himself. He won’t be content until his broken life serves the healing of others. Which brings us to the last point.

Sixth, he discovered that God has crushed him in love, and that a broken and contrite heart is the mark of all God’s children. “The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, You will not despise.”

This is foundational to everything. Being a Christian means being broken and contrite. Don’t make the mistake of thinking you get beyond this in this life. This marks the life of God’s happy children until they die. We’re broken and contrite all the way home – that is, unless sin gets the proud upper hand. Being broken and contrite is not against joy and praise and witness. It’s the flavor of Christian joy and praise and witness.

Let me close, if I may, by briefly recounting the life of John Newton. Many of you recognize his name. He authored one of the most beloved hymns in the world (Amazing Grace), yet he spent his early life transporting African slaves to America.

He was born in 1725, went to sea with his father at the age of 11, and was pressed into the Royal Navy at the age of 18. Eventually, he would find his way onto slave ships, which he found to be “an easy and creditable way of life.” Even after his conversion to Christianity in 1748, he continued in the trade, seeing no conflict between his faith and occupation.

However, after poor health drove him back to land in 1754 and his ordination in the Church of England, his views on slavery were dramatically transformed. He authored an account of his life as a slave trader and publicly repented of his earlier life. In 1787, together with William Wilberforce, he founded the Anti-Slavery Society and campaigned until the end of his life to end the slave trade in Britain, which happened only nine months before his death. We’re going to close by singing a modern version of that hymn, but before we do, let’s pray:

“O God, each and every person in this room has sinned against You, and we’re in need of your forgiveness, but that only comes through repentance. Help us, in these moments to approach You with truly broken and contrite hearts. We offer this prayer in Jesus’ name. Amen.”

Spiritual Disciplines (Solitude) – Various Texts

• March 11, 2024
• Pastor
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Various Texts

I sit in a bright-lit June meadow at the Abbey of Gethsemane, a Trappist monastery in Kentucky. It’s early afternoon, and I’ve been here since morning in what can only be described as an uneasy solitude. Time is measured here in the chant of crickets and frogs, in the syncopated litany of songbirds, in the silence of tattered wildflowers.

Even though I yearn for this acre of solitude, some other part of me hungers for the larger world of “relevance,” as if my solitude were a rarefied form of loitering. By most standards, I’m not being productive, efficient, or the slightest bit useful. And I can’t help feeling… what? Extraneous? Indolent?

It seems I should be writing something, cleaning something, fixing something. And I still have this tiny but stubborn repository of conditioning inside that tells me I should focus only on others, that sitting around in a monastic meadow is withdrawn. Navel-gazing self-indulgence. Shouldn’t I be back home working in a soup kitchen or something?

Being alone in order to find the world again sounds ridiculously paradoxical. It seems so even now that I’m here. But somewhere along my spiritual journey, I’d stumbled upon a difficult and enigmatic truth: True relating is born in solitude.

Those are the words of author Sue Kidd in her book Firstlight. And perhaps that’s what you imagine when you think about solitude – going to a monastery or a convent and sitting in silence. But that’s only one form of solitude. As another alternative, try this description by Ruth Haley Barton in her book Invitation to Solitude and Silence: Experiencing God’s Transforming Presence.

My entry into solitude often feels like the hard landing of an aircraft that this flight attendant humorously describes: “Ladies and gentlemen, please remain in your seats until Captain Crash and the crew have brought the aircraft to a screeching halt against the gate. And once the tire smoke has cleared and the warning bells are silenced, we’ll open the door and you can pick your way through the wreckage to the terminal.” When life is as noisy and fast-paced as mine, it feels as if my approach to solitude involves slamming to a screeching halt.

The smoke of clutter and distraction billows around me, and warning bells sound, telling me that I have been in a bit of danger and it’s a good thing I’m on the ground. Picking my way through the wreckage of external distractions, I stumble off the plane into the presence of the One who has been waiting for me to arrive, the One who loves me no matter what kind of disheveled shape I am in and is so glad I’ve made it home.

Either way, one of the more controversial issues in ministry and church circles today is busyness and speed. How quickly do we expect the “lost” to be saved? How soon will new churches plant other new churches? How fast should a new believer move into a leadership role? How long should cross-cultural missionaries work on learning a language?

Our internal speedometers are being conditioned to the quickening pace of modern life with its rapid flow of technological innovations. So, in our “age of accelerations,” pressing questions relate to speed – not only for effective Christian mission but simply for healthy Christian lives. Will we be driven by the hurried pace of our world? Or, with the help of God’s Word, the Holy Spirit, and His church, will we find a more timeless (and human) pace for life and mission – a pace that has produced health and fruit across the ages?

In his book Missions: How the Local Church Goes Global, Andy Johnson says this: “The work of ministry and missions is urgent, but it’s not frantic.” That’s good, and the same is true of the Christian life and of the health and growth of our own souls. So, let’s sit together at the feet of Jesus, and consider the pace and patterns of His life and ministry. He wasn’t idle. But neither was He frenzied. From all we can tell from the Gospels, Jesus’s days were full. I think it would be fair to say He was busy, but He wasn’t frantic. He lived to the full, and yet He didn’t seem to be in a hurry.

In Jesus, we observe a human life with holy habits and patterns: rhythms of retreating from society and then reentering to do the work of ministry. Even Jesus prioritized time away with His Father. He chose again and again, in His perfect wisdom and love, to give His first and best moments to seeking His Father’s face. And if Jesus carved out such space in the demands and pressures of His human life, what might we learn from Him, and how might we do likewise?

Now, we have only glimpses of Jesus’s habits and personal spiritual practices, but what we do have is by no accident, and it’s not scant. We know exactly what God means for us to know, in just the right detail – and we have far more about Jesus’s personal spiritual rhythms than we do about anyone else’s in Scripture.

And the picture we have of Christ’s habits is not one that is foreign to our world or our lives and personal experience. Rather, we find timeless and transcultural postures that can be imitated and applied by any follower of Jesus, anywhere in the world, at any time in history. So, what might those be? Let’s look at three.

Jesus Retreated and Reentered

Jesus made a habit of withdrawing from the world and the engagements of fruitful ministry, and then reentering later to do more good. And the same should be true of us. The healthy Christian life is neither solely solitary nor constantly communal. We learn to withdraw, like Jesus, “to a desolate place” to commune with God (Mark 1:35), and then we return to the bustle of daily tasks and seek to meet the needs of others. We carve out a season for spiritual respite in some momentarily sacred space to feed our souls, enjoying God there in the stillness. Then refilled, we enter back in to be light and bread to a hungry, harassed, and helpless world (Matthew 9:36).

For Christ, “the wilderness” or “desolate place” often became His momentarily sacred space. He got away from people. He regularly escaped the noise and frenzy of society to be alone with the Father, where He could give God His full attention and undivided heart.

There is, of course, that especially memorable instance in Mark 1. After “his fame spread everywhere” (Mark 1:28) the day before, and “the whole city was gathered together at the door” (Mark 1:33), Jesus took a remarkable step the next morning. He was up before the sun and slipped away from town to restore His soul in secret communion with His Father. “Rising very early in the morning, while it was still dark, He departed and went out to a desolate place, and there He prayed” (Mark 1:35).

Given the fruitfulness of the previous day, some of us might scratch our heads. What a ministry opportunity Jesus seemed to leave behind when He left town! Surely some of us would have skipped or shortened our private spiritual habits to rush to the demands of the swelling masses. How many of us, in such a situation, would have the presence of mind and heart to discern and prioritize prayer as Jesus did?

The Gospel of Luke also makes it unmistakable that this pattern of retreat and reentry was part of the ongoing dynamic of Christ’s human life. Luke 4:42 tells us that Jesus “departed and went into a desolate place” – not just once but regularly. Luke 5:16 says, “He would withdraw [as a pattern] to desolate places and pray.”

So, also, Matthew 14:13. After the death of John the Baptist, Jesus “withdrew from there in a boat to a desolate place by Himself.” But even then, the crowds pursued Him. And He didn’t despise them, but here He puts His desire to retreat on hold and has compassion on them and heals their sick (Matthew 14:14). Then after feeding the five thousand, He withdraws again to a quiet place. “After He had dismissed the crowds, He went up on the mountain by Himself to pray” (Matthew 14:23).

This leads to a second principle – and not just that He withdrew but why, for what purpose? What did Jesus do when He withdrew?

Jesus Withdrew to Commune with His Father

He got away from the distractions and demands of daily life to focus on, and hear from, and pray to the Father. At times, He went away by Himself to be alone (Matthew 14:23; Mark 6:46–47; John 6:15). His disciples would see Him leave to pray and later return. He went by Himself.

But He also drew others into His life of prayer. The disciples had seen Him model prayer at His baptism (Luke 3:21), as He laid His hands on the children (Matthew 19:13), and when He drove out demons (Mark 9:29). And Jesus brought His men into His communion with His Father. Even when He prayed alone, His men were often nearby. “Now it happened that as He was praying alone, the disciples were with Him” (Luke 9:18; also Luke 11:1).

Jesus Taught His Disciples to do the Same

Jesus didn’t only retreat to be alone with God. He also taught His disciples to bring this dynamic of retreat and return, communion and compassion, into their own lives (Mark 3:7; Luke 9:10). In Mark 6:31–32, Jesus invites the disciples to join Him, saying, “Come away by yourselves to a desolate place and rest a while.” Mark explains, “For many were coming and going, and they had no leisure even to eat. And they went away in the boat to a desolate place by themselves.”

The same is true in the Gospel of John, as His fame spreads, Jesus retreats from more populated settings to invest in the disciples in more desolate, less distracting places (John 11:54). And in the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus teaches everyone (including us) not only to give without show (Matthew 6:3–4) and fast without publicity (Matthew 6:17–18), but also to find our private place to seek our Father’s face: “When you pray, go into your room and shut the door and pray to your Father who is in secret. And your Father who sees in secret will reward you” (Matthew 6:6). The reward is not material stuff later but the joy of communion with God now, the excitement of fellowship in the present, in the secret place.

Like last week, I want close on a personal note, I want to ask you about your pace and your patterns. First, your pace, ask yourself, “How deeply do the world’s assumptions and expectations about speed and productivity and busyness affect my life? How hurried is my life?”

Second, your patterns. How about rhythms of retreat and reentry? Do you get away daily to commune with God in His Word and prayer, in an unhurried, even leisurely way – resting, restoring your joy, feeding your soul in the grace of His presence? And what are your patterns or rhythms of life for retreating from the noise of the world to focus on and hear from the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom He has sent, and then come back to meet the needs of others?

In his excellent book, Recapturing the Wonder: Transcendent Faith in a Disenchanted World, Mike Cosper explains the value in persevering through the difficult realities of practicing solitude.

Solitude has a learning curve. It’s a practice we embody, and like anything worth doing, our first efforts will be pained. The “terror of silence” (as David Wallace called it) will tempt us away from the quiet.

We will long for email, to-do lists, a sink full of dishes, the unread messages on our phone – anything that can turn our attention away from that quietly simmering something that makes solitude so troubling. So, we practice solitude like a beginning violinist; we practice poorly. But poor practice – marked by a wandering and restless mind – isn’t bad practice.

Done with some regularity, it can become rich. We can discover a space in our hearts and in our world where the Lord meets us. As we’ll see, it’s the beginning of the end of our religious efforts, a chance to face both the reality of our spiritual poverty and the wealth of God’s spiritual blessings.