Red Ferraris and the will of God

A pastor is called to care for a group of people who differ from people in general. The difference is that those in the pastor’s charge are “born again” to use the heavily worn, but still biblical phrase. It may well be the case that among the flock are those who, for religious reasons, consider themselves “Christians” but who have in reality never experienced what Jesus described as being born again. That is not my concern today. Rather I want to ask what it looks like to pastor someone who has truly been born again.

Something has happened to this person. They will “never be the same again”! We know that they are forgiven, justified and adopted and all the so-called “objective” works of salvation have been completed on their behalf. But something more has happened. A natural baby who has completed the birth process has become in himself a viable member of the human race. He is fully equipped for physical life. Spiritually a person is born again and becomes a viable participant in the new covenant in himself. We are equipped with all it takes to participate in the new covenant. We are fully equipped for spiritual life. (We still need to be equipped for ministry, but not for life.)

So what is this new covenant? Well it starts like this, “I will put my law within them, and I will write it on their hearts.” (Jer 31:33). A born-again person comes pre-loaded with God’s law written on their hearts. What do we imagine that looks like? The Decalogue chiseled out again in human flesh? Which particular laws? The heart is the seat of feelings, desires and passions as well as thoughts and will. So it must mean at the very least that the desires of our hearts are innately in tune with the will of God. If not, then what is the point? Come back Moses, all is forgiven!

It means that the baseline assumption is that my desires are a reflection of the will of God. Now you can push this to silly extremes: a Christian cannot sin — no. If I desire it, it must be God’s will — no. Of course there are qualifications. But here is my point – we have become obsessed with the qualifications to the point of obscuring the fundamental alignment God has achieved for us by writing his law upon our hearts.

Much pastoring is based not on Jeremiah 31, but Jeremiah 17 – the heart that is desperately wicked and deceitful above all else. Surely this speaks of the unregenerate heart? For many pastors the fundamental assumption is that the desires of a born again person are still so profoundly opposed to the will of God that the Christian life is a prolonged re-enactment of the garden of Gethsemane – not my will but thine! Jesus endured Gethsemane (and Golgotha) so that we don’t have to. He has redeemed us not to a life of daily mortification, but to LIFE where the dying has already been accomplished.

Can we trust people to have desires that are not diabolical? Does distrusting the motives of people’s hearts really help protect them from sin? Do poor decisions stem more from wrong desires or from acting out of fear? Why did Jesus need to say, “Fear not!” so often, but never uttered the words, “Desire not!”? If God’s people are ungenerous, is it usually because they are secretly coveting a red Ferrari, or because they live in fear of poverty?

Now Paul does say that he dies daily, and Jesus did invite us to take up our cross and follow him. Why? Is this a necessary survival technique for believers in a sin-filled world?  Is this really about dealing with ungodly desires and the wickedness of our hearts? Or is it speaking of the nature of ministry? We die indeed, but not to deal with our deceitful hearts, but for the benefit of others. That is called love.

Can we trust that God really has done a miracle with His people? Can we trust that God has filled their hearts with wholesome desire? Can we allow them to dream? Even if it is of a red Ferrari?

Prepositions really matter

(Why the gospel of the kingdom really is good news)

Many years ago we persuaded our daughter – a strong-willed five-year-old – to make a personal response to Jesus. She phrased her new status in this way, “I asked Jesus into my heart – he’s the boss of me now. You’re not the boss of me any more!” From this little cameo you may make several deductions! First about her misguided motivations, second about the inadequacy of her parents’ strategy for handling her strong will. But the third deduction is what concerns us here – and that is about her parents’ theological preoccupation.

We were in strong reaction to an easy-believism that presented the gospel as a ticket to heaven with no strings attached. (Stick it in your back pocket for use when the time comes.) It was abhorrent to me. I had on my shelf a copy of Bonheoffer’s “Cost of Discipleship” (SCM edition, complete with a picture of a hangman’s noose on the front cover). I could not bear the idea that people should be allowed to respond to the gospel without a serious contemplation of the cost attached first. A popular preach of the day went like this: “You have made Jesus Saviour, but have you made him Lord?” In truth this was a bit wishy-washy for me. How could he ever be your Saviour if he was not your Lord? Surely making him Lord was a precondition to his being your Saviour? And making him Lord meant that he could and possibly would ask you to do some pretty difficult and sacrificial things.

Now there was never any conflict with the idea of grace. It was of course all of his grace that we were not condemned. But grace was not the important thing to talk about. The real issue was his supreme lordship in our lives. We were proud to be “kingdom-minded” people who put his kingship (and our subjection) right up front. It was not a message that sat easily under the title of “good news”. Come to Jesus and surrender your rights to him! It was a message more concerned with “truth” than with people. Our five-year-old’s tortured response reflected how divorced our thinking had become from the love of God.

So Matthew 4:23 presented something of a challenge to me:

And he went throughout all Galilee, teaching in their synagogues and proclaiming the gospel of the kingdom and healing every disease and every affliction among the people.” (ESV)

You see, I knew that the word gospel meant “good news”, which right next to the word “kingdom” is pretty oxymoronic, like postal-worker or military intelligence. (With apologies to hard working postmen and clever soldiers everywhere.) How can the news of our rightful position as subjects of an absolute monarch be “good”? All the more so in an age when individual freedom is highly prized, and concentration of political power regarded with great suspicion. Of course God is good and can be trusted not to abuse his authority over us, and any sacrifices required of us will surely be for the greater good. But it is still a tall order to sell as “good news”.

The commentators help us with the original meaning, by explaining the Jewish expectation of the restoration of national sovereignty to Israel, through freedom from Roman domination. So it would have sounded like good news to Jewish 1st century hearers. But the original meaning doesn’t help us with the application of preaching the gospel of the kingdom today, since 1st century Jewish political expectations have little relevance to most people’s lives. In any case Jesus clearly had something more in mind since he said that his kingdom was “not of this world”.

And here we come to the small matter of prepositions, hinges upon which whole worlds revolve. Some twenty years of reflection upon the matter of the kingdom of God have drawn my attention to a fundamental misapprehension. The kingdom of God is presented biblically not so much as something over us as it is something for us. The kingdom of God is something he has chosen gladly to “give to us” (Luke 12:32). The kingdom of God was something in which the disciples clearly expected to do some reigning (Mk 10:37) and Jesus did not deny this idea. The kingdom of God is something in which the wicked have “no inheritance” Eph 5:5 (with the clear implication that the righteous do have an inheritance in the kingdom). Eph 1:22 tells us that Christ’s headship over all things is for the benefit of the church.

None of this is to deny that we should obey him! But that is not the message of the good news. The good news is that there is a kingdom coming that is hugely for our benefit. It is a kingdom of ever-increasing peace (meaning not inner tranquillity, but the vibrant social fulfilment of shalom). It is a kingdom of wholeness where there is no more sickness or death. It is a kingdom where sorrow no longer has any part to play. It is seriously good news.

Contemporaries of Jesus (apart from the Jewish zealots) often aspired to Roman citizenship. We read in Acts 22:28 of a Roman tribune who had purchased his citizenship “for a large sum of money”. Why would anyone pay a fortune to become a subject of an autocratic emperor? The answer quite simply is that to be a subject was overwhelmingly for the benefit of the individual. It conferred on him dignity, status and above all the protection of the full might of the Roman military machine. The cry of “civis Romanus sum” (I am a Roman citizen) was a kind of “touch me if you dare!” (Which Paul put to good use a couple of times!)

The gospel of the kingdom is quite simply the best news we could ever imagine. It is the offer of citizenship in a far greater, far more enduring, far more glorious kingdom, in comparison to which the Roman empire had feet of clay. It is a kingdom for us.

Prepositions matter.

From the translator

Welcome to Found in Translation, a blog devoted to the dream of a coming kingdom and a beautiful church. One day we will have attained to the unity of the faith and the knowledge of the Son of God, and be prepared in all respects to receive our bridegroom. It is the day of glory to which all history points and for which the whole of creation waits with bated breath.

There are of course many blogs with not dissimilar themes, but this is a blog written from a particular perspective — that of the translator. I have spent my life as an alien in a foreign land, and grown to love it. I have lived cross-culturally and in the process I have necessarily become a translator. I have had to learn how to translate from South African English to my native British version and vice versa. Then later to and from Brazilian Portuguese. But the real delight has been not so much to translate language, but rather perspectives and understandings: in fact to be a cultural interpreter.

The great imperialist deception of the 19th century was that British culture was clearly superior to any other and was in fact the only one that really mattered. The great liberal deception of the 20th century was that all cultures stand on an equal moral footing and must be accorded equal treatment. In fact there is merit in each and every culture, as well as a darker side. The anonymous observation sums it up:

 “Heaven is where the police are British, the cooks are French, the mechanics are German, the lovers are Italian and it is all organised by the Swiss. Hell is where the police are German, the cooks are English, the mechanics are French, the lovers are Swiss, and it is all organised by the Italians”

Culture is the inescapable context of human social existence: we cannot live without it, any more than fish can live without the sea. But culture is not always harmless: we can never afford to be seduced by the obvious rightness of our own culture into devaluing the culture of others. Our own culture feels safe and self-evident, and we resist the inroads of “foreigners”. (I am British and will continue to balance peas on the back of my fork for no good reason other than that is how I was brought up.) The fact is that good things are hidden for us in other cultures.

Translation takes what is good in an alien culture and expresses the point in a form intelligible to the home culture. It is not in the first instance about changing anything, only the more modest goal of understanding. But through understanding comes the possibility of valuing, and through valuing, desiring, embracing and then changing. Fear of course will stop us ever starting. But perfect love has cast out fear…

So being a cross-cultural kind of person I have trouble with labels and boxes. When people ask what kind of church we are, I try my best to help them understand, but there is no single label or brand that works for us. I am the charismatic in the theology lecture, the intellectual in the Holy Spirit fire tunnel, the bible expositor in the revival meeting, the prophet to the cessationists, the scientist who delights in revelation and of course the pastor who rides a motorbike to work.

It’s not that I don’t want to fit in. I am not at heart a rebel or anarchist. But I have so great a reverence for God, for the sanctity of His church and the greatness of His kingdom that I never want to get too comfortable with what any one group has decided that looks like. I never really was a company man, because I never really believed the propaganda. I do believe! I do believe that God is always good, that He has redeemed me through the blood of His Son, that His kingdom is coming now, that the church is His body on earth, that He has destined me to be His son from all eternity. But please don’t make a box out of it!

So this blog is written with the perspective that just maybe some people who don’t fit in “our group”, whatever that is, might have something worth understanding. The heart cry of unity finds fulfilment not through massed stadium meetings or interdenominational prayer movements, but through valuing one another. Too many of us are all ears and have no use for hands or eyes, in Paul’s metaphor. And valuing one another comes through understanding and understanding comes through translation.