Matthew 22

²³ The same day Sadducees came to him, who say that there is no resurrection, and they asked him a question, ²⁴ saying, “Teacher, Moses said, ‘If a man dies having no children, his brother must marry the widow and raise up offspring for his brother.’ ²⁵ Now there were seven brothers among us. The first married and died, and having no offspring left his wife to his brother. ²⁶ So too the second and third, down to the seventh. ²⁷ After them all, the woman died. ²⁸ In the resurrection, therefore, of the seven, whose wife will she be? For they all had her.” ²⁹ But Jesus answered them, “You are wrong, because you know neither the Scriptures nor the power of God. ³⁰ For in the resurrection they neither marry nor are given in marriage, but are like angels in heaven. ³¹ And as for the resurrection of the dead, have you not read what was said to you by God: ³² ‘I am the God of Abraham, and the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob’? He is not God of the dead, but of the living.” ³³ And when the crowd heard it, they were astonished at his teaching.

N.T Wright has shared a wonderfully absurd story from his younger days that powerfully illustrates what is happening in our text. He writes:

I once sat on a college committee where two older members had a regular tactic for stopping any change that might have been proposed. When one of the younger members (myself, for instance) proposed doing something that would really benefit the whole community (well, I would say that, wouldn’t I), one of these two could be relied upon to come up with a ridiculous story of what might conceivably happen if we did such a thing.

       On one occasion, for instance, someone had proposed that by the entrance to the college there should be a system of mailboxes so that every member of the college could collect his or her mail easily from the right box, rather than having, as we then did, a small number of boxes with a large number of letters stuffed into each. Many other colleges had sensible systems; why couldn’t we?

       Straight away one of the blockers went into action. “Ah, but,” he said, “supposing you put in these new mailboxes, they’ll probably have to go right down to floor level. Then supposing somebody comes by with a dog. And supposing the dog decides to lift its hind leg right beside the mailboxes. You wouldn’t like that to happen to your mail, would you?” The picture was so silly it was actually funny; but by the time everyone had laughed, the nonsensical story had had its effect. Half the room had come to believe, without any actual argument, that there were serious problems about the proposal.

And what does this have to do with our text? Wright explains:

We know from several sources that the Sadducees—the let’s-keep-things-as-they-are party within the Judaism of Jesus’ day—were good at telling silly stories to make the idea of resurrection look stupid and unbelievable. The story they told here is a typical folktale, with the seven brothers like the seven dwarfs in the Snow White story, or the heroes in the The Magnificent Seven. Its purpose is simply to set out a highly unlikely situation to force the issue.[1]

So the Sadducees were obfuscating, creating a fog, under the guise of theological and biblical seriousness. In reality, however, they were indulging in something called reductio ad absurdum, or reducing something to the absurd as a rhetorical tactic against resurrection. But Jesus cannot be rebuffed by the fog or the absurd. He sees right through it and His arrow hits the mark.

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¹ Blow a trumpet in Zion; sound an alarm on my holy mountain! Let all the inhabitants of the land tremble, for the day of the Lord is coming; it is near, ² a day of darkness and gloom, a day of clouds and thick darkness! Like blackness there is spread upon the mountains a great and powerful people; their like has never been before, nor will be again after them through the years of all generations. ³ Fire devours before them, and behind them a flame burns. The land is like the garden of Eden before them, but behind them a desolate wilderness, and nothing escapes them. ⁴ Their appearance is like the appearance of horses, and like war horses they run. ⁵ As with the rumbling of chariots, they leap on the tops of the mountains, like the crackling of a flame of fire devouring the stubble, like a powerful army drawn up for battle. ⁶ Before them peoples are in anguish; all faces grow pale. ⁷ Like warriors they charge; like soldiers they scale the wall. They march each on his way; they do not swerve from their paths. ⁸ They do not jostle one another; each marches in his path; they burst through the weapons and are not halted. ⁹ They leap upon the city, they run upon the walls, they climb up into the houses, they enter through the windows like a thief. ¹⁰ The earth quakes before them; the heavens tremble. The sun and the moon are darkened, and the stars withdraw their shining. ¹¹ The Lord utters his voice before his army, for his camp is exceedingly great; he who executes his word is powerful. For the day of the Lord is great and very awesome; who can endure it? ¹² “Yet even now,” declares the Lord, “return to me with all your heart, with fasting, with weeping, and with mourning; ¹³ and rend your hearts and not your garments.” Return to the Lord your God, for he is gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love; and he relents over disaster. ¹⁴ Who knows whether he will not turn and relent, and leave a blessing behind him, a grain offering and a drink offering for the Lord your God? ¹⁵ Blow the trumpet in Zion; consecrate a fast; call a solemn assembly; ¹⁶ gather the people. Consecrate the congregation; assemble the elders; gather the children, even nursing infants. Let the bridegroom leave his room, and the bride her chamber. ¹⁷ Between the vestibule and the altar let the priests, the ministers of the Lord, weep and say, “Spare your people, O Lord, and make not your heritage a reproach, a byword among the nations. Why should they say among the peoples, ‘Where is their God?’”

Every so often I read again Shel Silverstein’s wonderfully amusing poem, “Sarah Cynthia Sylvia Stout Would Not Take the Garbage Out.” Have you heard it?

Sarah Cynthia Sylvia Stout

Would not take the garbage out!

She’d scour the pots and scrape the pans,

Candy the yams and spice the hams,

And though her daddy would scream and shout,

She simply would not take the garbage out.

And so it piled up to the ceilings:

Coffee grounds, potato peelings

Brown bananas, rotten peas,

Chunks of sour cottage cheese.

It filled the can, it covered the floor,

It cracked the window and blocked the door

With bacon rinds and chicken bones,

Drippy ends of ice cream cones,

Prune pits, peach pits, orange peel,

Gloppy glumps of cold oatmeal,

Pizza crusts and withered greens,

Soggy beans and tangerines,

Crusts of black burned buttered toast,

Gristly bits of beefy roasts. . .

The garbage rolled on down the hall,

It raised the roof, it broke the wall. . .

Greasy napkins, cookie crumbs,

Globs of gooey bubble gum,

Cellophane from green baloney,

Rubbery blubbery macaroni,

Peanut butter, caked and dry,

Curdled milk and crusts of pie,

Moldy melons, dried-up mustard,

Eggshells mixed with lemon custard,

Cold French fries and rancid meat,

Yellow lumps of Cream of Wheat.

At last the garbage reached so high

That it finally touched the sky.

And all the neighbors moved away,

And none of her friends would come to play.

And finally Sarah Cynthia Stout said,

“OK, I’ll take the garbage out!”

But then, of course, it was too late. . .

The garbage reached across the state,

From New York to the Golden Gate.

And there, in the garbage she did hate,

Poor Sarah met an awful fate,

That I cannot now relate

Because the hour is much too late.

But children, remember Sarah Stout

And always take the garbage out!

Amusing, yes…and not amusing at all. In fact, the poem is fairly terrifying the more you think about it. It is, in fact, a prophecy and a warning: If you do not deal with your garbage your garbage will deal with you.

You are created in the image of God and are therefore called to live lives of holiness and joy that reflect the beauty of God. You are called to live life in relationship with God. But our sin is our garbage. It clutters are lives and we do not want to take it out. In fact, we love our sin until we learn to hate our sin. But sin, undealt with, brings pain and woe into our lives. Until we come to Jesus in faith and are saved, we inevitably meet the same fate as Sarah Cynthia Sylvia Stout: “The wages of sin is death…” (Romans 6:23).

Many years ago, a prophet named Joel warned Israel of this. He told them that the reason their house was falling apart was because they had not taken their garbage out, they had not turned to the Lord God in faith and repented of their sin. In some fascinating ways, Joel tells them the lesson of Sarah Cynthia Sylvia Stout: Our sin, our garbage, threatens to destroy us. But God is merciful, and He can save us from the mess and the consequences if we will come to Him. He can forgive us. He can restore us. And He will if we will come to Him.

Let us consider the nature of judgment and the nature or that repentance that leads to forgiveness and life.

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¹ The word of the Lord that came to Joel, the son of Pethuel: ² Hear this, you elders; give ear, all inhabitants of the land! Has such a thing happened in your days, or in the days of your fathers? ³ Tell your children of it, and let your children tell their children, and their children to another generation. ⁴ What the cutting locust left, the swarming locust has eaten. What the swarming locust left, the hopping locust has eaten, and what the hopping locust left, the destroying locust has eaten.⁵ Awake, you drunkards, and weep, and wail, all you drinkers of wine, because of the sweet wine, for it is cut off from your mouth. ⁶ For a nation has come up against my land, powerful and beyond number; its teeth are lions’ teeth, and it has the fangs of a lioness. ⁷ It has laid waste my vine and splintered my fig tree; it has stripped off their bark and thrown it down; their branches are made white. ⁸ Lament like a virgin wearing sackcloth for the bridegroom of her youth. ⁹ The grain offering and the drink offering are cut off from the house of the Lord. The priests mourn, the ministers of the Lord. ¹⁰ The fields are destroyed, the ground mourns, because the grain is destroyed, the wine dries up, the oil languishes. ¹¹ Be ashamed, O tillers of the soil; wail, O vinedressers, for the wheat and the barley, because the harvest of the field has perished. ¹² The vine dries up; the fig tree languishes. Pomegranate, palm, and apple, all the trees of the field are dried up, and gladness dries up from the children of man. ¹³ Put on sackcloth and lament, O priests; wail, O ministers of the altar. Go in, pass the night in sackcloth, O ministers of my God! Because grain offering and drink offering are withheld from the house of your God. ¹⁴ Consecrate a fast; call a solemn assembly. Gather the elders and all the inhabitants of the land to the house of the Lord your God, and cry out to the Lord. ¹⁵ Alas for the day! For the day of the Lord is near, and as destruction from the Almighty it comes.¹⁶ Is not the food cut off before our eyes, joy and gladness from the house of our God? ¹⁷ The seed shrivels under the clods; the storehouses are desolate; the granaries are torn down because the grain has dried up. ¹⁸ How the beasts groan! The herds of cattle are perplexed because there is no pasture for them; even the flocks of sheep suffer. ¹⁹ To you, O Lord, I call. For fire has devoured the pastures of the wilderness, and flame has burned all the trees of the field. ²⁰ Even the beasts of the field pant for you because the water brooks are dried up, and fire has devoured the pastures of the wilderness.

In his book, The Hidden Face of God, Michael Card reflects on the biblical idea of lament. He begins the book by speaking of Vincent Van Gogh and of the great artist’s troubled mind and troubled relationship with his own pain and grief. Van Gogh’s troubles are well known, but his last words might not be. His brother Theo wrote of his final moments in a letter to their sister. Van Gogh died in Ravoux Inn on July 27, 1890, two days after shooting himself in the chest. His brother was with him. His brother, Theo, reported that he had told Van Gogh that he could get better, that they could get him better, that he could move past his troubles. It was at this point that Van Gogh uttered his final words: “La tristesse durera toujours,” which translated means, “The sadness will last forever.”[1]

I wonder if you have ever felt like that?

I wonder if somehow the church has contributed to this feeling of despair?

Here is what I mean: why does it seem like the only options open to us in times of tragedy are these:

1. Pietistic stoicism: the suppression of our pain under the guise of religious platitudes.
2. Despair: Van Gogh’s “La tristesse durera toujours.”

There is another option, and one that is thoroughly biblical. I am talking about lament. What does it mean to lament? How should we define this? Mark Vroegop writes, “Lament is the honest cry of a hurting heart wrestling with the paradox of pain and the promise of God’s goodness.” And later, more concisely: “Lament is a prayer in pain that leads to trust.”[2]

In chapter 1, we see a picture of a devastating calamity: an invasion of locusts that destroy everything. And God calls Israel to lament and cry out to Him. I agree with Tchavdar S. Hadjiev’s argument that “lamentation caused by harvest failure” is “the major theme of this chapter.”[3]

This is a chapter for those who say, “La tristesse durera toujours,” “The sadness will last forever.”

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The British atheist philosopher of yesteryear, Bertrand Russell, wrote, “When I die, I shall rot.” Isaac Asimov wrote, “I don’t believe in an afterlife, so I don’t have to spend my whole life fearing hell, or fearing heaven even more. For whatever the tortures of hell, I think the boredom of heaven would be even worse.”[1]

Many agree with these sentiments. Jesus did not. In fact, the final line of the creed, “and the life everlasting,” is quite an accurate summary of what Jesus and the apostles taught, and this stands in direct contrast to Russell and Asimov. And this is a very important line—“and the life everlasting”—as Clarence Macartney has demonstrated:

In certain respects the great article of the Apostles’ Creed is the last: “I believe in … the resurrection of the body, and the life everlasting.” Without that article, the other great affirmations have no meaning. Suppose one were to say, “I believe in God the Father,” but not in life everlasting; or “I believe in the Holy Ghost,” but not in the life everlasting; or, “I believe in … the holy Catholic church, the communion of saints,” but not in the life everlasting. All those affirmations would be meaningless without the great chord struck in the final sentence of the Creed.[2]

Time and time again in the scriptures we find this truth: life goes on after the grave.

In John 10, Jesus gives a very helpful definition of “eternal life” (i.e., “life everlasting). He says:

²⁷ My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me. ²⁸ I give them eternal life, and they will never perish, and no one will snatch them out of my hand.

Verse 28 has three components, and those three will frame our consideration. They are:

• “I give the eternal life”: Our standing with Jesus determines our standing in eternity.
• “and they will never perish”: Heaven is a place of everlasting life.
• “and no one will snatch them out of my hand”: Our eternity will be spent in relationship with Jesus.

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I will never forget, as a kid, hearing Lewis Grizzard tell his story about Uncle Cleve and the wake. Here is Brenda Miles’ recollection of Grizzard’s story [I will change her “Uncle Clem” to “Uncle Cleve” since that is how Grizzard actually told it in his standup routine]:

            [Lewis Grizzard] knew of an Uncle Cleve, a hump-backed man, who lived in his community. When he died and was taken to the local funeral home for embalming, the funeral director could not position him properly in the casket because of the huge hump in his back. If he pushed down his upper parts, the knees came up. He pushed these down, the torso rose. Finally, the director’s son came up with a solution. He went down to the local hardware store and bought a leather strap. This was secured on the left of the casket, run underneath Uncle Cleve’s collar and clip-on tie to the right side of the casket. All was secure. Uncle Cleve was stable.

            After the body was returned home, three families came to “sit up” with the corpse—one a young nephew [Weyman C. Wannamaker Jr.] who lived in the house, only thirteen. He was terribly afraid of the dead, but his daddy told him it was time to learn the practice of “sitting up.”

            It turned out to be a stormy night. Around nine, one neighbor said his wife was terribly afraid of storms and, since the others were sitting up, he would go on home. At ten, another neighbor said, “The rain is pouring down harder and liable to get worse. I think I will go on home since the rest of you are sitting up.” And he left.

            The storm continued to rage and [Weyman C. Wannamaker Jr.’s] mother called for the father to come upstairs during a moment of lightning strikes and horrendous thunder. The father said, “Since you are sitting up, son, I’ll go up and calm down your mother.”

            Just before midnight, the storm reached its height. Tree limbs beat on the windows, lightning flashed every moment, thunder shook the house and even the lights went out! This left only the flickering candle at the head of Uncle Cleve’s casket. The young [Weyman C. Wannamaker Jr.] shook with fear as he tried to remain in his chair. Suddenly, however, a thunderclap with power unknown to mankind, shook the house and Uncle Cleve’s strap broke loose! He raised up in the casket just like he had good sense! Trembling in his boots, [Weyman C. Wannamaker Jr.] stood up and muttered, “Well, if you’re going to sit up, Uncle Cleve, I think I’ll go on up too!”

            And he hightailed it for the stairs.[1]

I never hear that story without laughing. The point? We do not quite know what to do with the dead sitting up! Yet, this idea—which the Bible calls resurrection—is at the very heart of our faith, and we must reclaim it in our day. In the Apostles’ Creed, we profess belief “in the resurrection of the body.”

The Christian doctrine, in short, is this: When the Lord returns, our bodies will be (a) resurrected and (b) transformed in ways that are largely beyond our understanding. It is astonishing how many Christians seem to forget this and seem to hold, instead, to a disembodied view of the afterlife. Hans Urs von Balthasar has written that “a bodiless soul is not a human being.”[2] Very true. But it is as human beings that we will be resurrected, and this includes our bodies.

Let us consider what the scriptures say about this.

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I am going to review and engage with Chris Greer’s book, 12 Rules for a Christian Life. This review will be bumped back up to the top of the page with each new installment. Chris and his family live in North Little Rock, Arkansas, and Chris is a member of Central Baptist Church. You can learn more about Chris, his projects, and his ministry here. I have come to have a deep appreciation for Chris and his approach to the Christian life. I am excited to journey through this book! Get a copy and come along!

Introduction

Greer begins by introducing us to his terms. By “rule” he does not mean arbitrary and scattered laws but, rather, disciplines. His use of the term is more akin to the monastic concept of “the rule” than the legal. It is interesting and refreshing to see the continued Protestant appropriation—in a healthy and good sense, I hasten to add!—of broadly monastic ideals. But Greer isn’t, it appears, engaged primarily with historical retrieval as much as biblical retrieval. His introduction positions this work tonally in line with evangelical spiritual formation literature (Willard, Foster, Whitney, et al.), but the conceptual foundation of it also aligns it with the argument of something like Greg Peter’s The Monkhood of All Believers: The Monastic Foundation of Christian Spirituality, and, before it, the new monastic movement. It will be interesting to see, as we go along, how Greer’s works substantiates or undercuts this initial impression. Even so, I certainly applaud Greer’s approach and look forward to diving in.

The first four rules, he tells us, are grounded in the first aspect of the greatest commandment: love of God. The next four in the second aspect: love of neighbor. The final four involve our relationship with ourselves. This is a helpful schema. It’s wholistic and and a clear approach to such a lofty goal.

I particularly liked this sentence: “The ideal human life is not a religiously observant one, it’s a relationally connected one” (7). I will remember that.

More to come!

Chapter 1—”Fight for Space”

This was a tremendous chapter. Greer begins the chapter talking about the hectic, crammed, “marginless” nature of modern life.

“There’s very little space.”

“We wear our business like a badge of honor.”

“What’s missing in our lives is space.”

Jesus is out ultimate model and He modeled a healthy approach to space. In discussing Jesus’ ministry, Greer finds a key: in the midst of His miracle-working frenzy, Jesus disappeared and did something life-giving for Himself: “He fought for space.” “The pressure was on,” writes Greer, “but the precedent was set: Jesus would fight for space.”

What does Greer mean by “space.” “By ‘space’ I mean purposeful time with the Creator…The space that is rule #1 for the Christian life is centered in relationship.” We need to make “a commitment to space.”

“The question is not, ‘Will God show up?’ The question is, ‘Will you and I show up?’ and ‘Do we have a good plan for doing so?'”

Helpfully, Greer has adapted Cal Newport’s four approaches to space from his book, Deep Work. Greer appropriates and renames these as:

Extended Space: long periods of silence

Sabbath Space: a full day of space / purposeful and uninterrupted / no less than 8 hours

Daily Space: the creation of a rhythm / quiet time with Jesus

Prompted Space: when life’s circumstances prompt you to create space / as-needed space

Greer then shows how Jesus demonstrated a commitment to each of these four kinds of space. He writes that “rhythm and space marked His ministry instead of panic and hurry.”

In the next section, “How You Can Fight for Space,” Greer offers some very helpful and very practical ideas:

• calendar it (even prayer!)
• get out of the house (a new space to carve out this habit / “Where can you go out to allow God to draw you in?”)
• Make repeat visits (routine / keep the same location, or “a handful of spots”)
• power down (“Your smart device is a serious devil.”)

Won’t the very fight for space wear us out? No, for as Greer points out, “space becomes a charging station for our Spirit-led and empowered life.”

Finally, Greer argues for “the daily pause,” an intentional “60-second” pause, twice a day, to be alone with God. Schedule the daily pause (Greer does 10 am and 2pm) and don’t skip it.

This was a very helpful, well-organized, accessible, biblically-grounded consideration of space: what it is, how Jesus approached this crucial area of life, why it matters, and how we can go about finding it and meeting God in it.

Chapter 2 – “Listen to Jesus”

Greer begins by establishing the connection between the first rule and the second: “The real purpose for making space is so that we can listen to Jesus in it.” Much is at stake in this listening: “If we don’t create space and listen to Jesus, we can miss the point of life.” And: “Religion without relationship is no different than secular atheism. Both lead adherents to roam from God, landing them in a narcissistic wasteland.” That is a powerful thought, and one worthy of deep consideration.

As with space, Greer demonstrates that Jesus followed the second rule as well: He listened. John’s Gospel establishes the fact that Jesus’ primary goal was to listen to the Father (i.e., John 5:19–20). “Jesus constantly listened for the Father’s voice and lived His life from what He heard.” This listening is not at odds with His saving work, rather, Greer demonstrates, Jesus’ listening was part of His saving work.

Not only does Jesus listen, He speaks. Greer points to Jesus’ presenting Himself as the Shepherd and His followers as His sheep: “and they will listen” (John 10:14–16). Greer is calling for “a conversant life with God” as the “core” of what it means to be a follower of Jesus.

How can we know we’re listening to Jesus’ voice? Greer helpfully points to John 1 and its description of Jesus as “the Word” (a point that, strangely enough, often doesn’t make it to our understanding of prayer because it stays only in Christology). But if Jesus is the Word then, whatever else it means, it means He is to be heard.

Here are some of the ways that Jesus speaks to us. Greer helpfully and effectively gives the biblical backing for each of these ways.

• desire
• doors
• dreams
• people
• promptings
• pain (“…pain is grace.” I very much liked this idea.)
• peace

Greer moves to a critically important question: “What if you don’t listen to Jesus?” The person who isn’t may be following the instructions of the Bible, but he or she is certainly not living the Christian life to the full. They are missing something powerful: a life of richness and fulness in the Holy Spirit. They are instead living a life that is “limited, dull, stuck.”

Finally, Greer speaks of his own approach to the rule of listening. He writes of his need for and practice of silence, reading scripture, prayer, and journaling.

Greer is a very good writer. The material is well-organized, effectively communicated, and very helpful! I’m enjoying this book very much. Highly recommended!

Chapter 3 – “Read the Bible Slowly”

After a helpful assessment of the hectic, distracted, exhausting nature of modern life, Greer asks a good question: “If the pace of our lives produces so little fruit, why do we keep running so fast?” The way we take in information today (i.e., quick bits of information flooding over us via the internet) affects how we read scripture. “Speed reading the scriptures” is not God’s ideal for us and our engagement with His Word.

Greer points to the temptations of Jesus in the wilderness to buttress his point. “Jesus fought His enemy with the truth of His Father’s Word.” We must read the Word in such a way that we are able to retain it, to remember it. This does not happen with fast, frantic skimmings of the Word. “We can only internalize it if we memorize it and we can only memorize it if we spend time reading it slowly.” This is what Jesus did: He “chewed on it…internalized it.”

Greer helpfully points to the difference between “access to God’s Word” and “reliance upon God’s Word.” “When we rely on the Word of God, we are relying on God Himself.” This sustained Jesus in His battle with the devil and, indeed, throughout the entirety of His earthly life.

Greer encourages a careful reading of Mulholland’s Shaped by the Word. We can read to be “informed” or to be “formed.” We don’t just read the Bible, it reads us. God’s Word is the primary way God speaks.

Greer asserts that the Bible is “for you” but not “about you.” God is who it is about. We come to the Word for wholeness.

We are to read scripture:

• intentionally
• prayerfully
• corporately

Greer calls upon us to read slowly. “God moves at a different pace than we do. And reading the Bible for formation requires slowing down, way down.” This will likely be difficult for many of us, given as we are to such a hectic pace. We also need to respond honestly and in real time to what we read in the Word, perhaps in a journal or through an immediate re-reading of the Word. Greer concludes by advocating lectio divina as a helpful practice.

This was a solid chapter and a good apologetic for reading scripture slowly and deliberately. Both new Christians and those who have been Christians for many years will benefit from Greer’s points.

Chapter 4 – “Become a Mystic”

Greer begins with a helpful assessment of the current zeitgeist. He begins with the Enlightenment, its move away from the spiritual to the intellectual, and its shift to rationalism. The problem is, Greer says, rationalistic thought leaves no room for the mystical. We know there is more than the “rational, observable, and measurable.” “Rationalism is useless in our pursuit of the who and why behind human life.” We now see “emotionalism” at work, which is the opposite extreme: everything is subjective, there are no objective facts, etc. We also have “egocentrism,” the “evil twin of individualism,” which means an obsession with our own perspective and only our own perspective. Both rationalism and emotionalism “leave no room for God.”

The “better option,” Greer says, is to “become a Christian mystic.” Jesus was a mystic, neither a rationalist or an emotionalist.

Greer points to the experience of the Mount of Transfiguration as an example of the mystical. In Mark 9:7–8, the Father declares Jesus to be HIs beloved Son. Greer notes that the disciples had seen the miracles but they needed also to experience the mystical to truly be able to understand Jesus.

Greer acknowledges that some in the Church see the word “mystical” as a negative. I’m glad he acknowledged this. Though this has likely changed somewhat, there are undoubtedly many in SBC culture who see the word “mystical” as if not problematic then at least eyebrow-raising. That has been my experience anyway. But Greer is arguing that, properly understood, all Christians are mystics.

He points next to the High Priestly Prayer of John 17:20–23, 26. He highlights the language of the followers of Jesus all being united to Him and to one another. Greer highlights other “mystical” passages: John 14:20, 15:4–5; 1 Corinthians 3:16, 6:17. All of these speak of our union with Christ, of our being joined to Him.

Greer next provides something of a definition of mysticism as he is using the term: “open[ing] your heart to the spiritual reality of God.” This is helpful and needed. In the ecclesio-cultural context I inhabit, that definition should likely be offered pretty early on, given how loaded that word is to some. Nearer the end of the chapter Greer argues that Christian mysticism refuses to believe that the measurable and the quantifiable are all that there is. It is an openness to the reality that there is more, much more, than we can see.

Greer appeals next to 1 Corinthians 15:12–20 and notes that we base our entire faith on one historical miracle. And, he argues, miracles continue to this day. Among these miracles, Greer points to God’s presence, God’s speaking, God’s listening, God’s dwelling with and in us.

Greer argues that if we fail to embrace the mystical we will miss a vitally important aspect of the Christian life and will walk with a spiritual limp. This is well-said and I agree completely. This was a helpful, strong, and through-provoking chapter.

Chapter 5 – “Join the Church”

In chapter 5, Greer makes his (convincing) case that the New Testament picture of life in Christ is a picture of life together in Christ. He warns against the modern phenomena that threaten Christian community (the church), and discusses our screens, our cheap substitutes for real community, self-sufficiency, and sin. This was well done and it brought to mind C.S. Lewis’ jarring idea of what he called “the heresy of Jesus-and-me.” In my own tribe—American, Baptist, Evangelicalism—there is a real tendency toward low ecclesiology and hyper-individualism, so I really appreciated this chapter.

I also appreciated the fact that by “joining” the church, Greer means not so much officially joining in a paper-work and institutional sense (though he is not opposed to this), but rather joining in an organic, life-together sense. He speaks of his and his family’s own journey in doing this: joining the church and then deeply connecting with a group of friends who shared their stories and their lives together.

This was another good chapter that calls us to a high ecclesiology arising from a high Christology. We “join” the church because Jesus has called us to be the church and Jesus has called us to be the church because He has so made us that we thrive together, in community, as His body.

Chapter 6 – “Don’t Just Sing There”

This chapter is about worship. Greer first argues that worship is more than singing, though the two terms have become, in evangelicalism, coterminous. Music and singing are vital components of worship, but worship is more than music and singing.

Greer next moves to a definition of worship:

• Worship is a response to God.
• Worship is both personal and corporate.

Greer writes: “Worship as a living sacrifice is sacrificial living. It’s a moment-by-moment, day-by-day, year-in and year-out volunteering of all our mind’s thoughts and our body’s actions to him and for him.” That was well said!

Greer points to Jesus’ confrontation with the religious elites of the Judaism of His day (as recounted in Matthew 23) and how Jesus called out their hypocrisy and their showy, empty religion. “They were like the lung doctor who chain smokes,” writes Greer. Our religion and our worship can be rendered obscene by our lives. Greer observes: “Biblical worship is deeper than religious activity.” Greer points to the widow and her mite (Luke 21:1–4) as a picture of true worship.

Greer returns to his theme that worship, biblically understood, is a way of life, a kind of living, not just limited to singing. To worship is to do everything we do, every day, for God, indeed to work for Him. “Worship is action that proves our allegiance.” He concludes with some very helpful and practical ways that he strives to live a life of worship.

Could you forgive the people who ate your grandfather?

There is a question you likely have never asked yourself!

In a 2003 article in The Telegraph entitled “Fijians killed and ate a missionary in 1867. Yesterday their descendants apologised,” Nick Squires, writing from Nubutautau, Fiji, wrote:

Tearful Fijian warriors in grass skirts and armed with clubs yesterday begged forgiveness from the descendants of an English missionary their ancestors killed and ate more than a century ago.

In an elaborate ceremony villagers presented woven mats, a dozen highly-prized whale’s teeth and a slaughtered cow to 10 Australian relatives of the Rev Thomas Baker, who was murdered, cooked and consumed while trying to spread Christianity in Fiji’s rugged highlands in July 1867.

Seven Fijian converts who were helping the 35-year-old missionary penetrate the mountainous interior of Viti Levu island were also clubbed to death, their bodies cut up on flat rocks and roasted.

“Thomas Baker died in this place and we need to confess our sins,” said a local woman, Elenoa Naiyaunisiga, 59. “It is time for repentance and an apology.”

Legend has it that Mr Baker, a Methodist minister born in Playden, Sussex, was murdered after breaking a taboo by taking a comb from a chief’s hair.

But historians say the real reason was resistance to the spread of Christianity and complex tribal politics. Mr Baker became the only white man to be eaten in Fiji, a former British colony once known as the Cannibal Isles.

He and his men were ambushed as they left a village early one morning. According to the sole survivor, a Fijian guide, Mr Baker had sensed danger and told his companions: “Boys, we shall be killed today. Let us go now.”

During the six-hour ceremony in the village of Nubutautau, overlooked by jungle-clad ridges and outcrops of black volcanic rock, locals implored his descendants to forgive them for his murder and help them lift a curse which they believe has blighted their lives.

Wiping away tears, the chief of the village, Ratu Filimone Nawawabalavu, offered gifts and kissed the cheek of Les Lester, 56, Mr Baker’s great-great-grandson.[1]

Richard John Neuhaus noted concerning this forgiveness ceremony:

The ceremony of reconciliation included the slaughter of a cow and the gift of 100 sperm whale teeth to the Rev. Baker’s descendants. At the end of the ceremony, the village chief, Ratu Filimoni Nawawabalavu, embraced the British visitors. He is the descendant of the chief who cooked the missionary.[2]

How fascinating! There were at least two fundamental realities at play in Nubutautau on this day: (1) the human need for forgiveness and (2) the astonishing power of forgiveness.

In 1 John 1, John concludes his first chapter with some astonishing words. He writes:

⁸ If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us. ⁹ If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness. ¹⁰ If we say we have not sinned, we make him a liar, and his word is not in us.

In these three verses we find the biblical grounding for the great line from the creed we are considering today: “I believe in the forgiveness of sins.”

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Matthew 22

¹⁵ Then the Pharisees went and plotted how to entangle him in his words. ¹⁶ And they sent their disciples to him, along with the Herodians, saying, “Teacher, we know that you are true and teach the way of God truthfully, and you do not care about anyone’s opinion, for you are not swayed by appearances. ¹⁷ Tell us, then, what you think. Is it lawful to pay taxes to Caesar, or not?” ¹⁸ But Jesus, aware of their malice, said, “Why put me to the test, you hypocrites? ¹⁹ Show me the coin for the tax.” And they brought him a denarius. ²⁰ And Jesus said to them, “Whose likeness and inscription is this?” ²¹ They said, “Caesar’s.” Then he said to them, “Therefore render to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s, and to God the things that are God’s.” ²² When they heard it, they marveled. And they left him and went away.

Alfred Nicol has written a fascinating and troubling and humorous and insightful little poem. It reads like a ditty, but there is depth here. Listen:

Give to Caesar what is his,
namely, everything there is.

I see a lot of eyebrows raised.
Let’s check the books. You’ll be amazed.

An x. An o. A hug and kiss.
Render unto Caesar this.

Render unto Caesar that.
His the dog, his the cat.

Render up your reading time.
Render, too, your reverie.

Render up the uphill climb,
render what you hope to be.

If God is dead, does Caesar get
the flip side of the coin? You bet!

Render up. You’ll never win.
The croupier will rake it in.

Caesar’s arms are open wide;
your whole estate will fit inside.[1]

Again, this sounds whimsical almost, but there in the second half is a little couplet upon which the whole poem rests:

If God is dead, does Caesar get
the flip side of the coin? You bet!

Ah! There it is! A conditional statement: “If God is dead…” And this is the key. If God is dead than Caesar does indeed get it all (i.e., “the flip side of the coin,” “render…unto God what is God’s”).

But if God is not dead then the whole thing falls apart, right? In the face of a living God, Caesar does not get it all, or even the most important things, or, in the face of eternity, really anything at all!

Jesus showed us that God is not dead. As such, Jesus’ handling of the question of taxes, of what exactly we should render to Caesar, needs to be heard and heeded, and that carefully! Let us consider this amazing and famous episode in the life of Jesus.

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In 1927, the German Lutheran pastor Dietrich Bonhoeffer was 21 years old. In that year, he completed his doctoral dissertation. The publication of that dissertation in 1930 captivated a number of people, not the least of which was the great theologian Karl Barth who referred to it as “a miracle.” In this book, Bonhoeffer makes an arresting statement. He writes:

There is in fact only one religion in which the idea of community is an integral element of its nature, and that is Christianity.[1]

In other words, according to Bonhoeffer, community is an inescapable reality for the believer. It is part and parcel of being a Christian, and there is no healthy Christianity without it.

What was the name of Bonhoeffer’s book? Sanctorum Communio. Translation: the communion of saints.

I agree with Bonhoeffer. I believe he is correct. Community, the life of the saints of God (i.e., all who are believers) lived out together, is “an integral element” of the nature of Christianity. This truth is firmly grounded in the short but profound statement from 1 Corinthians 12:

²⁷ Now you are the body of Christ and individually members of it.

The “you” there is plural. Paul is speaking to all the believers in Corinth and, by extension, to all believers everywhere. The “body of Christ” is singular. The “members” is plural. And the “are” is emphatic! In other words: you, the saints, the individuals who have accepted Christ as Lord and Savior, by definition are in and comprise the singular body of Christ on earth, the sanctorum communio, the communion of saints.

When we say we “believe in the communion of saints” we are pressing this idea forward, and we are right to do so. Let us consider how to honor, value, embrace, and safeguard the communion of saints.

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Matthew 22

¹ And again Jesus spoke to them in parables, saying, ² “The kingdom of heaven may be compared to a king who gave a wedding feast for his son, ³ and sent his servants to call those who were invited to the wedding feast, but they would not come. ⁴ Again he sent other servants, saying, ‘Tell those who are invited, “See, I have prepared my dinner, my oxen and my fat calves have been slaughtered, and everything is ready. Come to the wedding feast.”’ ⁵ But they paid no attention and went off, one to his farm, another to his business, ⁶ while the rest seized his servants, treated them shamefully, and killed them. ⁷ The king was angry, and he sent his troops and destroyed those murderers and burned their city. ⁸ Then he said to his servants, ‘The wedding feast is ready, but those invited were not worthy. ⁹ Go therefore to the main roads and invite to the wedding feast as many as you find.’ ¹⁰ And those servants went out into the roads and gathered all whom they found, both bad and good. So the wedding hall was filled with guests. ¹¹ “But when the king came in to look at the guests, he saw there a man who had no wedding garment. ¹² And he said to him, ‘Friend, how did you get in here without a wedding garment?’ And he was speechless. ¹³ Then the king said to the attendants, ‘Bind him hand and foot and cast him into the outer darkness. In that place there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.’ ¹⁴ For many are called, but few are chosen.”

 Here is something I have not quite seen before and that, frankly, gives me pause. In the back of Peter Stoner’s 1944 book, Science Speaks, he presents two options to the reader. He calls them “contracts.” The reader is asked to sign or date one of these contracts.

Consider the two following statements as contracts between yourself and God. One of these contracts is in effect as you finish reading this book. Which one do you now choose?

1. I believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and accept Him as my personal Savior. By this act my sins are all blotted out and I become a son of God, a joint-heir with Jesus Christ. I now have eternal life and shall spend eternity in heaven with Christ.

Signed……………………….. Dated ………………………..

How shall we escape, if we neglect so great salvation? – Hebrews 2:3

2. I will not accept Jesus Christ as my savior. I realize that this is the greatest sin against God that any man can commit and in so doing I affiliate myself with Satan. I shall live a life in sin against God, and for this decision I shall spend eternity in hell with Satan.

Signed……………………….. Dated ………………………..

For the wages of sin is death; but the gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord – Romans 6:23[1]

I do not pause because I disagree with Stoner’s conclusion that everybody must choose either “1” or “2.” I pause because, if I am honest, this is not usually put quite so jarringly in modern Christian practice, certainly not in a way calling for a signature. I suppose we could debate the merits of this approach, but one thing seems clear: Jesus told stories which offered the same decision and the same results for whichever decision was made. And Jesus’ stories were no less jarring than Stoner’s contracts. I suspect in our day we might say that Stoner’s approach risks being too confrontational. Maybe. Maybe not. Regardless, our day appears to be one that can never quite get down to the basic confrontation that is inherent in the gospel: Will you accept Jesus or not?

To be frank, many who heard Jesus’ parable in the first fourteen verses of Matthew 22 would have been as offended as some would be at Stoner’s contracts. Yet, there it is: a choice, a decision that needs making, two roads, and two destinations. Listen to Jesus’ story of the wedding feast.

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