Close Encounters — of the First Kind

A personal encounter with God is a life-transforming experience. The Bible contains several accounts of such “close encounters.” Recently I was struck with the similarities between the experiences of the prophet Isaiah, on the one hand, and of the apostle Peter, on the other. Outwardly their situations were quite different, but at bottom they experienced the same God with the same effect.

In the sixth chapter of Isaiah’s prophecy, he records a vision of the LORD.

In the year that King Uzziah died I saw the LORD sitting upon a throne, high and lifted up; and the train of his robe filled the temple. Above him stood the seraphim. Each had six wings: with two he covered his face, and with two he covered his feet, and with two he flew. And one called to another and said: “Holy, holy, holy is the LORD of hosts; the whole earth is full of his glory!” And the foundations of the thresholds shook at the voice of him who called, and the house was filled with smoke. (vv. 1–4)

We do not know whether Isaiah was himself in the Temple at the time of his vision, but it would make sense if he were. That was the place where the God of Israel had chosen to make himself accessible to his people. There the sacrifices were offered for the forgiveness of sins; there the priests led the people into the holy presence of God by their representative mediation. In the Temple was where one might expect to encounter God.

But Isaiah’s experience is anything but commonplace for a worshipper. To see the unseen God in all his glory and holiness was an overwhelming experience for Isaiah. Isaiah’s reaction is one of brokenness and repentance:

And I said: “Woe is me! For I am lost; for I am a man of unclean lips, and I dwell in the midst of a people of unclean lips; for my eyes have seen the King, the Lord of hosts!” (v. 5)

Having seen the glorious majesty of the Most High he now truly sees himself — and his fellow human beings — in the wretchedness of sin. No one can come away from an authentic experience of worship with an exalted view of his own accomplishments. That a Pharisee (as in the parable of our Lord Jesus, Luke 18:9–14) could actually stand before God and pray, “God, I thank you that I am not like other men, extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even like this tax collector,” demonstrates how far he was from actually worshipping the God of Israel. (It is ironic that so many in our day want to come away from worship “feeling better about themselves.” They certainly are not seeking authentic biblical worship.)

The good news is that the repentant sinner always encounters a gracious God, and so it was with Isaiah:

Then one of the seraphim flew to me, having in his hand a burning coal that he had taken with tongs from the altar. And he touched my mouth and said: “Behold, this has touched your lips; your guilt is taken away, and your sin atoned for.” (vv. 6–7)

Atonement has been provided; guilt is removed; the sinner is forgiven. Conviction of sin is never an end in itself. It’s goal is pardon, as the apostle John declared, “If we confess our sins, [God] is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness” (1 John 1:9). Isaiah was “undone” by his vision of the LORD, but the result was the deep healing of his whole life.

Out of this close encounter came the the LORD’s call to Isaiah to serve him as a prophetic spokesman to Israel:

And I heard the voice of the Lord saying, “Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?” Then I said, “Here I am! Send me.” (v. 8)

Now let us shift our attention to a very different scene. This time we are far from the Temple in Jerusalem. We are standing by the lake of Gennesaret (Luke 5:1–11). Jesus is surrounded by crowds pressing in on him to hear the word of God. He commandeered a boat from some fishermen who had given up for the day and were washing their nets. From offshore Jesus taught the people. After he was finished, Jesus told Simon Peter, one of the fishermen, to put out into the deep and resume fishing.

Peter was skeptical. What did the Master know about fishing. But still…

“Master, we toiled all night and took nothing! But at your word I will let down the nets.” And when they had done this, they enclosed a large number of fish, and their nets were breaking. They signaled to their partners in the other boat to come and help them. And they came and filled both the boats, so that they began to sink. (vv. 6–7)

The skies did not open for Peter. He did not see visions of angels. There was no visible glory on display. And yet — just as surely as did Isaiah — Peter “saw the LORD.” There in the boat, surrounded by smelly fish, Peter encountered God.

And (again like Isaiah) Peter was broken and humbled by the experience — overwhelmed by the sense of his own sinfulness in the presence of the divine Majesty.

But when Simon Peter saw it, he fell down at Jesus' knees, saying, “Depart from me, for I am a sinful man, O Lord.” (v. 8)

Here, in the midst of the very ordinary daily tasks of life, Peter has a life-transforming experience of the nearness of God. God is not tethered to the Temple. Indeed, Jesus was himself the “new Temple” (cf. John 2:19–21) — the One in whom the true and living God has made himself finally and supremely accessible. “Whoever has seen me has seen the Father” (John 14:9).

Peter has much more to learn (painfully) about the depth of his sinfulness and the generosity of Jesus’ forgiveness (cf. Luke 22:54–62; John 21:1–19), but for now, Jesus simply calls him to his new service — “Do not be afraid; from now on you will be catching men” (v. 10). Peter (like Isaiah) receives his call from the Lord as a result of his “close encounter.” From that day onward, Peter and his companions left everything and followed Jesus.

What are we to make of this for ourselves? We are not prophets or apostles; that is true. We are really nothing special at all.

But we do live in the same “new covenant” era, when God is encountered in the person of Jesus Christ — and now even more so through the Holy Spirit whom he has sent in his place (cf. John 15:26). Whether we are participating in corporate worship on the Lord’s Day, or involved in the very mundane activities of our day-by-day lives, we may (and must) enjoy fresh personal encounters with God. As we make God’s Word our daily food; as we commune with Christ personally in prayer, we will experience God’s nearness in a life-transforming way.

As with Isaiah and Peter, the transformation will be seen, first of all, in a fresh awareness of our sinfulness (and the free confession that flows from that conviction) and of the generous love of God manifest in his free forgiveness of our sins for Jesus’ sake.

Secondly, our encounters will give us a new appreciation for and vision of our calling to be his witnesses and servants in the world. “Seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness” (Matthew 6:33) is much easier if you are having daily visits from the King.

___________________________

By the way, just to close the circle, John tells us in his gospel that when Isaiah had his vision of the glory of the LORD in the Temple, he was actually seeing Jesus’ glory and he spoke of him (John 12:41).

What does it mean to "preach the gospel?"

I suppose that as long as men have been preaching the gospel there have been debates over what it really means to “preach the gospel.” Too often this phrase is used as a slogan and is treated as if it were self-defining.

More than a few people leave churches on the basis of the claim that the preacher is “not preaching the gospel.” Sometimes that is demonstrably true (though few take the time or make the effort to demonstrate it), at other times it simply indicates that the critic does not know what to listen for in the pastor’s pulpit ministry.

Paul wrote, “Woe to me if I do not preach the gospel!” (1 Cor. 9:16). What does that mean to the preacher and to the congregation that sits under his ministry?

It is an important question. God has ordained that through the preaching of the gospel men are to be saved (1 Cor 1:21) and the church built-up (3:10-15). Therefore, lives are hanging in the balance. We had better know what we are doing!

Paul’s message to the elders from the church(es) in Ephesus (Acts 20:17–35) will shed some helpful light on this question. In this message, Paul uses five (parallel) phrases to characterize his ministry among the believers of Ephesus.

Let’s look at each of these phrases in turn. (I’m going to take them in a different order from that in which they appear in the passage.)

Proclaiming an historical event

First, to “preach the gospel” means to proclaim the redemptive-historical message concerning Jesus — in particular, his death and resurrection. Paul says he “testif[ied] to the gospel of the grace of God” (v. 24).

This is actually what the term “gospel” means in the specific NT sense. In 1 Corinthians 15, Paul summarizes the content of his message of “good news:”

For I delivered to you as of first importance what I also received: that Christ died for our sins in accordance with the Scriptures, that he was buried, that he was raised on the third day in accordance with the Scriptures… Whether then it was I or they, so we preach and so you believed. (vv. 3–4,11)

Elsewhere Paul spoke of the cross-centered character of his preaching: “For I decided to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ and him crucified” (1 Cor. 2:2; cf. Gal. 3:1).

As J. Gresham Machen never tired of emphasizing, “salvation” according to the Bible is rooted in history. Apart from the redemptive accomplishment of Jesus, the incarnate Son of God, sinners have no hope of the forgiveness of sin and reconciliation with God.

Thus preaching is first and foremost the proclamation of an historical event. If you read the apostolic sermons in the book of Acts, when directed toward an unbelieving audience (Jew or Gentile), they are all declarations (in one way or another) that Jesus died and then arose from the dead.

This does not mean that every sermon must be about the atonement, but it does mean that all faithful preaching must be oriented toward the redemptive accomplishment of Christ.

The call for a response

Authentic preaching of the gospel includes the call for a specific response. Paul “testif[ied] both to Jews and to Greeks of repentance toward God and of faith in our Lord Jesus Christ” (v. 21). In this, Paul was following the example of Jesus himself:

Jesus came into Galilee, proclaiming the gospel of God, and saying, “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God is at hand; repent and believe in the gospel.” (Mark 1:14).

Indeed, in Luke’s version of the “Great Commission,” Jesus commands “that repentance and forgiveness of sins should be proclaimed in his name to all nations, beginning from Jerusalem” (Luke 24:47).

Thus Paul here focuses our attention on preaching as the particular call of God to men who are lost, dead in their transgressions and sins (Eph. 2:1). It is a call to turn from their rebellious self-reliance, and surrender themselves in grateful trust to the Savior.

Faithful preaching must seek and find men where they are. Preachers must speak to them frankly about their sins and their need of a Savior. Preaching must aim at the conversion of men — both the initial conversion to saving faith, and the ongoing “conversion” of daily repentance and faith — that “cross-bearing” which constitutes Christian discipleship (cf. Luke 9:23).

Such a focus will keep sermons from becoming abstract or diffuse. It will also preserve preaching’s powerful hortatory character. It is not only the “evangelistic sermon” which must contain the call to conversion — every sermon (to one degree or another) should.

Systematic comprehensiveness

Preaching the gospel incorporates the comprehensive message of the Bible (worldview) — “I did not shrink from declaring to you the whole counsel of God” (v. 27).

Paul understood that all Scripture is profitable (2 Tim. 3:16–17). Man is to live by every word that comes from the mouth of God (Deut. 8:3; Matt. 4:4). And Paul understands the cosmic implications of the confession, “Jesus is Lord” (e.g., Col. 1:15–25; Rom. 8:18–25). Thus he was concerned to introduce his hearers to the broad scope of biblical teaching — to the “systematic theology” of the Bible.

If Christians are to be properly discipled so that they can meet the challenges of the twenty-first century — with its resurgence of paganism and imperialism — pastors must take pains to introduce them to the broad scope of biblical teaching.

We live in an age that is intolerant of anything that seems “theoretical.” As a consequence, systematic theology — instruction in what the Bible has to say about various topics (e.g., God, creation, human nature, sin and salvation, conversion, etc.) — is not as important to the life and piety of the church (even the Reformed churches) as it once was. This also explains why the church often lacks energy and perseverance in its practical tasks. Theology is the fuel of service. Faith that does not take in substantial amounts of biblical truth (theology) will quickly run out of gas.

Preaching that is faithful to the Bible and follows Paul’s own example will be characterized by comprehensive and balanced content.

Biblical practicality

Preaching the gospel includes drawing out the practical applications of the gospel for the daily living of God’s people. Paul declared, “I did not shrink from declaring to you anything that was profitable, and teaching you in public and from house to house” (v. 20).

Because Paul knew that all Scripture is profitable (2 Tim. 3:16–17), and that the truth accords with godliness (Titus 1:1), Paul was not hesitant — as some of his disciples have become — about drawing out the “practicalities” of the Scriptures.

The Westminster Shorter Catechism reminds us, “The Scriptures principally teach what man is to believe concerning God, and what duty God requires of man” (Q/A 3). Therefore, biblical preaching must have a strong ethical dimension. Preaching must have its practical usefulness. John Newton wrote, “I set no value on any doctrinal truth, further than it has a tendency to promote practical holiness.”

Like the Scriptures themselves, preaching must teach, rebuke, correct, and train in righteousness so that the hearers may be “thoroughly equipped for every good work” (2 Tim. 3:17 NIV).

In Ephesians 4:11–12, Paul explains that the risen Christ gave pastors and teachers to build up the church by equipping God’s people for works of service. This means that one of the central purposes of the preaching ministry within the church is to equip and train believers for their service to Christ.

Passionate pleading

Someone has described preaching as “passionate personal pleading.” Paul would certainly agree — “I did not cease night or day to admonish everyone with tears” (v. 31).

Too often (Reformed?) preaching is cold, remote, and seemingly indifferent to its impact on flesh-and-blood human beings. The pastor has not done his work if he has not begged men to turn from their sin and trust in Jesus.

This is hard for preachers to learn. It’s easier to bully than to beg. Begging is humiliating. Some people have never begged for anything in their life. But love has no pride when it is pleading with sinners to be reconciled with God. Its worth our tears. The eternal destiny of the men and women that sit in the pews is at stake.

From these brief comments I trust we can all — preacher and listener alike — get a clearer picture of Paul’s own understanding of his public preaching ministry as well as his more private instruction “from house to house’ (v. 20).

As you can see, it is a rich conception. Paul had a sense of the breadth of his preaching task, but never lost sight of its particular focus and practical purpose. Faithful preaching (and listening) will have the same powerful usefulness for the building up and equipping of the saints of works of worship and service.

100th Anniversary of Gustav Mahler's death

Today is the 100th anniversary of the death of the composer Gustav Mahler. He was born in 1860, in the Bohemian village of Kaliště, midway between Prague and Vienna, where he later “hit the big time” as the conductor of the court opera (1897–1907). At the end of his life he was in his second season conducting at the Metropolitan Opera and the Philharmonic in New York.

He was almost exclusively an orchestral composer, producing nine symphonies (a tenth was left unfinished at his death), and several cycles of orchestral songs (vocalists and choruses have significant roles in four of the nine symphonies, especially the Second and Eighth).

In 1907 he was diagnosed with heart disease (a valve problem), and despite warnings from his doctors, Mahler kept up a heavy schedule of conducting and composing. In 1911 a sore throat and fever that had interrupted his conducting in New York led to a diagnosis of bacterial endocarditis. In the days before penicillin, such an infection was an almost certain death sentence. It was his desire to return to Vienna where he died on 18 May.

I first heard the music of Mahler in 1971 in the soundtrack for Luchino Visconti’s film, Death in Venice. The opening scene — the protagonist approaching Venice on a ferry boat in the pre-dawn twilight to the music of the “Adagietto” from the Fifth Symphony — was breathtakingly beautyful. A few years later I heard my first complete symphony (the First) on a recording at the home of a friend, David Julien, during a GA visit to the Chicago area. It didn’t bowl me over as the “Adagietto” had, but it was interesting enough to make we want to listen again.

Mahler biographer Guido Adler wrote that on first impression Mahler’s music “produces attraction at one place, repulsion at another and must be courted lovingly.” That has been my experience. Over the years I sampled all the symphonies and songs. Some movements were immediately attractive, others I could not enjoy at all. The only symphony I took to as a whole on the first hearing was the Third.

But I kept at it, “courting” the music lovingly, and perseverance led me to appreciate what Mahler was doing (though still from a layman’s perspective). Mozart and Beethoven are pretty readily accessible for most listeners, and there are beautiful melodies throughout the standard classical repertoire from all periods. But Mahler will make you work hard — he’s big (so his structures are hard to grasp aurally), his orchestration sometimes seems to include everything, including the kitchen sink (he even has cowbells!), he uses huge orchestras often in chamber-like ensemble combinations, etc. But it’s all worth it. I have just finished listening through all whole cycle again (in Leonard Bernstein’s recordings with the New York Philharmonic from the 1960s). I can now enjoy most all the symphonies and Das Lied von der Erde and I’m closing in on the last two holdouts (for me) — the Seventh and Eighth.

Mahler said the symphony should “take in the whole world,” and his certainly do, and time and eternity as well. It’s all there — the beauty, ugliness, love, loss, pain, confusion, yearning, consolation, and hope.

If I had plenty of money, I’d hire the local symphony orchestra where I die to perform a concert of Mahler’s Third for all my friends after my funeral (no, not the Second, “Resurrection”).

Mahler originally provided a programme for the symphony though it was withdrawn before the score was published in 1898. The six movements were titled as follows:

1. "Pan Awakes, Summer Marches In"

2. "What the Flowers on the Meadow Tell Me"

3. "What the Animals in the Forest Tell Me"

4. "What Man Tells Me"

5. "What the Angels Tell Me"

6. "What Love Tells Me"

I’ve recast them in my own mind with a more gospel-oriented story.

The colossal opening movement (a 30+ minute march) I would title, “Aslan on the Move” (after The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe) — Christ marching through the world, reversing the effects of the “winter” of sin and death, bringing life and immortality to light through the gospel. The present reality of “new creation.”

The third movement is a wonderful scherzo that features (near the end) an off-stage posthorn fanfare that seems a summons to another world, and gives rise to a powerful crescendo that intimates that the promise will soon become a reality.

In the fourth movement (marked “very slow, mysteriously”), the contralto soloist sings a text from Nietzsche’s Also sprach Zarathustra that Francis Schaeffer used to quote as a proof that “the manishness of man” demonstrates the truth of the Christian worldview in that even the non-believer who proclaims that “God is dead” cannot help but yearn for that which God alone can give — eternal blessedness. Nietzche wrote (as translated by Udo Middlemann and cited in How Should We Then Live?, 180)):

Oh man! Take heed

of what the dark midnight says:

I slept, I slept—from deep dreams I awoke;

The world is deep—and more profound than

day would have thought.

Profound in her pain—

Pleasure—more profound than pain of heart,

Woe speaks; pass on.

But all pleasure seeks eternity—

a deep and profound eternity.

The believer’s confidence is that in Christ that deep, deep yearning is, and will be, satisfied.

And then there is the Finale, “What Love Tells Me.” It is the song of Jesus, “the lover of my soul,” speaking comfort and hope as he brings the believer through death and out the other side into the glory of “a new heavens and a new earth where righteousness dwells” — where the Lamb is the light of the City.

Sadly, Mahler himself did not find the hope of glory that his music points to and yearns for. But for those in Christ who have, his music will take you there again and again and again.

Well, I’m never going to have enough money for my “funeral concert,” but you can get a CD of Mahler’s Third (or any of the other symphonies) and give it a try. And you don’t have to wait till I’m dead.

“O…to see ourselves as others see us.”

“O…to see ourselves as others see us.” So wrote the Scottish bard, Robert Burns. This famous line comes from a poem (“To a Louse”) in which Burns describes himself sitting in a church service behind a young lady dressed out in her Sunday finery.

The poet notices a louse making his way among the ribbons and bows of the woman’s fancy bonnet. Burns might expect to see such a “blastie” (an ugly little creature) on an old wife’s flannel nightcap, or perhaps on some small ragged boy, but not on such a refined lady trying to make an impression upon her fellow-worshippers!

He concludes the poem with the famous stanza (here rendered in a rough English equivalent to the Scottish brogue) that offers the familiar moral to the story:

O would some Power the gift to give us

To see ourselves as others see us!

It would from many a blunder free us,

And foolish notion:

What airs in dress and gait would leave us,

And even devotion!

If we were given the ability by God to stand outside ourselves and “see…as others see us,” perhaps we would be delivered from some of our blunders and foolish notions, our inflated social airs — perhaps even our devotion might improve.

Burns has put his finger here on a significant feature of fallen human nature — an often inflated and distorted self-image. Jeremiah wrote that “the heart is deceitful above all things” (17:9), and that heart-deceit can distort our perception (and evaluation) of circumstances, of other people, and of ourselves.

Hypocrisy

The Bible contains frequent warnings against hypocrisy.

This is the most extreme form of “not seeing yourself as you truly are.” This is a life of pretense — knowing that there is a huge disconnect between who we are inwardly and the person we wish to be (or appear to be) outwardly to others. The “hypocrite” (as the Greek word indicates) “wears a mask” (as in the theater) to hide his/her true self behind a false appearance that will be more attractive to others.

Hypocrisy was the characteristic sin of the religious leaders of Jesus’ day, who often drew a biting rebuke from our Lord. For example:

“Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you are like whitewashed tombs, which outwardly appear beautiful, but within are full of dead people's bones and all uncleanness. So you also outwardly appear righteous to others, but within you are full of hypocrisy and lawlessness.” (Matthew 23:27–28)

It was the desire of the Pharisees to appear to be righteous to others — and in this they were largely successful — but in reality they were inwardly lawless. They needed Jesus to tell them how they looked to him, the “Heart-Reader” (Jeremiah 17:10). Only so would they be led by the Holy Spirit to the repentance that would bring their inward and outward lives into correspondence.

Sadly, most of them refused and perished in their hypocrisy. As Jesus declared:

“Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but the one who does the will of my Father who is in heaven. On that day many will say to me, ‘Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name, and cast out demons in your name, and do many mighty works in your name?’ And then will I declare to them, ‘I never knew you; depart from me, you workers of lawlessness.’” (cf. Matthew 7:21–23)

Thus we are warned to “put away all…hypocrisy” (1 Pet. 2:1). It is a deadly affliction of soul.

Self-examination

By God’s grace, most of us have been delivered from intentional hypocrisy, though we all have our moments and our “blind spots.” The great pastor John Newton wrote:

‎While we remain upon the earth we are in the Lord's school, and a principal we have to learn is the knowledge of ourselves, and this can only be attained by painful experience.… To have some tolerable ideas of the human heart in general is one thing, to know our own hearts is quite a different thing. (Letters of John Newton, p. 342, emphasis added)

We must seek to live an “examined life.”

Examine yourselves, to see whether you are in the faith. Test yourselves. Or do you not realize this about yourselves, that Jesus Christ is in you?—unless indeed you fail to meet the test! (2 Corinthians 13:5)

Using the Word of God as our guide, and trusting in the transforming power of the Holy Spirit, we try to examine not only our outward actions, but also our inward attitudes and motivations, seeking to bring them into line with the will of God as embodied in the Lord Jesus himself.

We are trying, with Spirit’s help, to “see ourselves as others see us” — God himself being the most significant Other. We pray, with the Psalmist,

Search me, O God, and know my heart!
Try me and know my thoughts!
And see if there be any grievous way in me,
and lead me in the way everlasting! (Ps. 139:23–24)

Such honest heart-searching is an essential aspect of our “growing in the grace and knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ” (2 Peter 3:18).

Ask another brother or sister to tell you what they see

If you are conscientious about your self-exam-ination before the Lord, you will find it very helpful to seek the input of others in the process.

Far from being defensive and fearing the honest evaluations of others, believers who want to know themselves truly and live transparently before others are eager to have help (especially from those who spend a lot of time with you and know you well).

As we said, all of us have our “blind spots” — truths about ourselves that we’d prefer not to acknowledge and fix, or even things we are so close to, that have been so much a part of us for so long, that we may not see them for what they truly are. Here “another pair of eyes” is indispensable.

The other day I came across a quotation by William Wilberforce that was very much on topic here:

…unless we have accustomed ourselves to self-suspicion, if I may use such a phrase, we never benefit as we might from the friendly reproofs of a real friend. We may receive his remarks with civility, and even give him credit for his kind intentions, but we shall be almost sure to let it appear to any acute observer at least, that we rather tolerate his frankness out of principle, or put up with it in consideration of the friendly motives by which it has been prompted, than that we listen to it with a sincere desire of profiting from it, still less that we welcome it as one of the most valuable services that could be rendered to us.

The grand preparation that is needed is humility; that sense of our own infirmities and our own weakness, which is felt by every true, at least by every flourishing Christian. We read in the Scripture that 'our hearts are deceitful above all things:' by which is meant, that we are all prone to flatter ourselves. Now it is the first office of the Holy Spirit to teach us to know ourselves, and immediately to suspect ourselves as the first effect of that knowledge. I know how difficult it is in practice from my own experience; and because it is so difficult, it is here that we need the special aid of the Holy Spirit, and should earnestly pray for his blessed influence to teach us to know ourselves.

Proverbs reminds us “faithful are the wounds of a friend” (27:6), where the “wounds” in question are rebukes (v. 5). Love is willing to take the risk of telling a friend the truth, even if it is an unwelcome truth. But here Wilberforce is urging “flourishing Christians” to have the humility to invite, indeed to welcome the input of others as “one of the most valuable services that could be rendered to us.”

If we are serious about growing in grace, and if we understand, as Wilberforce reminds us, how prone we all are to flatter ourselves, we will seek the special aid of the Holy Spirit and of a Christian friend in helping us “to see ourselves as others see us.”

Evangelical Bible Bookstore Celebration Service

Join in a Special Service of

Thanksgiving and Celebration

of God’s Faithfulness

through the

40-Year Ministry of

Evangelical Bible Bookstore

and the faithful service of

John & Sandra Cully

Friday Evening, April 15th

7:00 PM

at New Life Presbyterian Church

5333 Lake Murray Boulevard, La Mesa, CA

If you would like to share a message of appreciation with the Cully’s to be included in a memory book, please send an email to Roger Wagner at rogerwagner1@mac.com.

God's Kintsugi

Several years ago Sherry and I went to an antique show where we found a vender who specialized in Wedgewood China. He had a number of lovely pieces, so we splurged and bought a whole shopping bag full. He wrapped each piece carefully and placed it in the bag. The prize was a beautiful teapot in pristine condition.

When we arrived home, I was carrying the treasures up the stairs to the front door, and on the next-to-the-top step I stumbled, and down I went — bag first. I couldn’t tell if it was the china or my heart that I heard break as the bag hit the landing.

When we got inside we unwrapped the pieces to survey the damage. Those in the bottom of the bag — including the prized teapot — were shattered. We discarded the broken shards, but I just couldn’t bring myself to toss the broken teapot. I counted up the pieces and decided to try to glue it back together. I was able to do a reasonable job of repair, but, of course, the teapot would never be the same. The damage was permanent.

Today it sits in a display cabinet, and most people don’t notice — because they don’t take it out for a closer look — that it is a shattered teapot pretending to be whole.

So much of the brokenness of our lives is like that. Tragedy strikes (a good deal of it self-inflicted), we pick up the pieces, do the best glue-job we can, and move on. But the cracks (or scars) are there for anyone to see who looks very closely. The best repair jobs we can provide are inadequate.

Hold that thought…

The other day I learned for the first time (through some off-hand reading) of the Japanese art of kintsugi.

The term, which means “golden joinery" in Japanese, refers to the art of repairing broken ceramics with a lacquer resin mixed with powdered gold. The resulting seam looks like solid gold. The goal of the kintsugi craftsman is to make a fractured piece look more gorgeous, and more precious, than before it was damaged.

It is said that the process originated in the 15th century. A shogun named Ashikaga Yoshimasa sent a damaged Chinese tea bowl back to China to be repaired. When it was returned the result was completely unsatisfactory. The repairman had simply rejoined the broken shards with ugly metal staples.

Japanese craftsmen were quickly challenged to find another form of repair that might make a broken piece look as good as new, or even better. It was even said that some people deliberately broke vessels in order to have them transfigured by the golden veining.

Such an artistic capacity to “beautify-through-repairing” points up the uniqueness of human beings as creatures made “in the image of God” — designed to reflect the glory of their Creator.

As I mentioned earlier, often our attempts to repair the damage done to our lives by sin does little more than put the pieces back together in some kind of functional way.

But God’s grace is such that he is able to show forth his golden glory in the repair and restoration he brings to sinners who come to him trusting in the grace of Christ.

When we confess our sins, God applies the judicial satisfaction accomplished by Christ on the cross to them, and the debt is (as John Murray said) not cancelled, but liquidated — paid in full.

When the Holy Spirit renews our sin-broken human nature, he makes us new creatures in Christ. We are not merely restored to what humanity once was in the “first Adam,” we are glorified in union with the “last Adam,” Jesus.

In an astonishingly wonderful way, God’s gracious kintsugi makes repaired sinners more beautiful and glorious than they were when originally created.

I often think of the story of the Jacob, who wrestled with the angel of the LORD by the River Jabbok (Genesis 32). Jacob had skillfully defrauded his brother Esau of the patriarchal birthright, had fled from the land, and prospered in his dealings with Laban. He was now a wealthy man, and wanted to return to the land, but first he had to face an angry Esau.

Jacob sought the LORD, who he understood had been the source of his prosperity: “I am not worthy of the least of all the deeds of steadfast love and all the faithfulness that you have shown to your servant, for with only my staff I crossed this Jordan, and now I have become two camps” (v. 10). He is reassured of the LORD’s blessing as he returns to the land. But the fear of his brother persists.

That night Jacob was left alone by the ford of the Jabbok.

And a man wrestled with him until the breaking of the day. When the man saw that he did not prevail against Jacob, he touched his hip socket, and Jacob's hip was put out of joint as he wrestled with him. Then he said, “Let me go, for the day has broken.” But Jacob said, “I will not let you go unless you bless me.” And he said to him, “What is your name?” And he said, “Jacob.” Then he said, “Your name shall no longer be called Jacob, but Israel, for you have striven with God and with men, and have prevailed.” (vv. 24–28).

Jacob is comforted by the divine reassurance, and as it turned out his brother Esau welcomed him — he “ran to meet him and embraced him and fell on his neck and kissed him, and they wept” (33:4).

But Moses leaves us a very telling detail — from that day forward, Jacob limped because of the dislocated hip (32:31). Jacob was “broken.” And yet the injury — one that would ordinarily be considered a handicap — was for him a token of God’s mercy. It spoke to him, with every step, of God’s covenant-keeping faithfulness. As a result the broken Jacob was more beautiful than the original — because of God’s kintsugi.

A question that has always challenged the faithful is “How can God allow — or (in the case of Calvinism) ordain — evil as part of his plan for creation without without being the ‘author of sin,’ or making ‘evil’ somehow less evil?” It is a complex problem, and many have puzzled over the theological and psychological answer.

But surely at the heart of any answer must be the realization that the presence of sin, and God’s redemptive remedy for it through his Son, Jesus Christ, reveals things about God that would not have been evident (or as evident) had humankind not fallen into sin. In Romans 9:19–24, Paul explains that God’s response to the presence of evil in his creation demonstrates his glory — both the justice of his wrath and the riches of his mercy.

When we think of that in individual terms as sinners redeemed through faith in Christ, it brings us back to God’s wonderful kintsugi.

As we look at ourselves we see plenty of evidence of our brokenness — wounds of various sorts inflicted upon us by others, and by circumstance, and especially the harm we have done to ourselves because of our self-centered pride and willfulness.

But we also see the evidences — the “golden joinery" — of God’s gracious repair work. Like Jacob we limp — but every limping step reminds us that we have encountered God — and not only have we survived, we have been transformed.

The risen Jesus is beautified in part by the golden wounds he displays — the price of our redemption. As the Spirit remakes us in Jesus’ likeness, we too bear the golden scars of our sin, now made glorious by the healing mercy of God.

O Savior Christ, thou too art man,

Thou hast been troubled, tempted, tried;

Thy kind but searching glance can scan

The very wounds that shame would hide.

Thy touch has still its ancient pow'r;

No word from thee can fruitless fall:

Hear in this solemn evening hour,

And in thy mercy heal us all.