And you decoder-ring guys, too! Yeah, you!

I'm not actually saying anything at the moment... but I'm not-saying it to you!

(This is for m'man Tom Chantry, tagging off of this Pyro post, comment #9.)

Arguing with God...

...is never very rewarding.

We all know people who think they're right all the time, and we know how pointless it is to argue with them. But the thing is, when any mortal has that kind of attitude, he's always wrong to think it. That's what's irritating. If they really were right all the time, then that would be an appropriate attitude.

But God really is right all the time. So we start every argument knowing He's right, and we're wrong. We start out doomed.

Yet we can't not see things as we see them, can we? A Roman Catholic is pretty stuck, when it comes to Scripture. When he sees Romish doctrines contradicted in Scripture, it always comes down to the same thing. "Who are you going to believe? The Pope, or your lying eyes?"

But once again, we shake our heads at that because the premise is false. The Pope / Magisterium isn't always right, Christians know it, and that's what makes it so pathetic.

However, God is always right. And Christians know it.

But what do you do when He doesn't look right? When some wrenching lurch of providence looks, for all you can see, random, cruel, God-shaming, pointless, destructive, insane?

There's always good old denial. That's an option.

Or I'm sure that many people are genuinely content with immediately trusting God. Of course, we all do that with things that are minor to us. I mean, when a light turns red just before we hit an intersection, we don't raise our eyes to Heaven and shriek, "Why?? Why do You hate me??! There is no God!"

What about those situations that aren't so minor and simple, though? What about the ones where everything screeches to a halt, positioned in our lives like a horrible ten-car pile-up on the freeway, stopping all traffic in both directions?

Wish I could tell you that's an academic question to me.

In those situations, we have to be honest to God, but honest about God, too.

Honest to God. Silliest scene in the Bible is Adam hiding behind a tree. Like that's going to work. So making nice-face to God is pretty silly, hiding what we think from Him, when our hearts are broken or seething or smashed flat.

I don't get from Scripture that He expects or wants that sort of fakery from us. Not if the Psalms or the Prophets are any indication. Look at a few f'rinstances:

Why, O LORD, do you stand afar off?
Why do you hide yourself in times of trouble? (Psalm 10:1)

My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?
Why are you so far from saving me,
from the words of my groaning? (Psalm 22:1)

O you hope of Israel, its savior in time of trouble,
why should you be like a stranger in the land,
like a traveler who turns aside to tarry for a night? (Jeremiah 14:8)

O LORD , you have deceived me, and I was deceived;
you are stronger than I, and you have prevailed.
I have become a laughingstock all the day;
everyone mocks me. (Jeremiah 20:7)

Also, read Psalm 44:9-22. This is but a selection. There just a isn't any point in being other than honest with God.

But, we also have to be...

Honest about God. The Scriptures, beyond honest argument, portray God as all-powerful, all-wise, faithful, and good. He is so committed to the good of His people, that He is incapable of allowing anything finally harmful to befall them. All things work together for good (Romans 8:28; cf. Genesis 50:20).

What to do when situations call any or all of those qualities into question?

If we're going to be Christian at all, denial of these Divine qualities is not an option. So what, then?

Here's what: we need to be humble enough to acknowledge the difference between the way things look, and the way things are.

We easily see the way things look. But what are we, we who are the viewers? We're a mist, a vapor. "You are a mist that appears for a little time and then vanishes" (James 4:14b). We're here today, gone tomorrow. And even during that "today," we're not all that bright. We're a dull knife in a drawer-full of dull knives. We only know a tiny, microscopic fraction of what can be known, and we neither know nor understand that fragment as well as we imagine.

God, by contrast, knows everything exhaustively, and understands everything perfectly.

So an atom stands before a speck of sand. "It goes up forever," he exclaims. He's wrong. But it certainly looks to him as if it goes up forever, because that's all he can see.

An ant stands at a table leg. "It goes up forever," he shouts to his buddies. Right? Or wrong? Both. Right about what he sees, wrong about what is.

A man stands before the Cross. "God is beaten," he says. "Either that, or certainly Jesus is rejected by God, forever. Jesus is certainly beaten. He failed. He is weak and pathetic. Everything has gone horribly wrong. Evil has triumphed, good is defeated, publicly and decisively. Nothing good is in this, and no good can come from it. Either there is no God, or God isn't like Jesus said He is, and I don't know which is worse."

Right, or wrong?

Well, for all appearances at that moment, he's right.

But wrong in the most important way. He has one part of the picture. But the whole picture utterly and completely changes the apparent meaning of that one part.

So here's the deal. We're in the midst of a nauseating, horrible disaster. What do we do?

I think we do two things. I think we tell God honestly what it looks like to us. And then I think we must remind ourselves that we never see anything exactly as God sees it. Never. Ever.

Things are the way God sees them, not the way we see them. So we have to remind ourselves that He still is who He says He is, not the way our situation seems to say He is.

Humbling, no? But true. Don't we want the truth? Ah, yes; we just wish it were different.

But there it is.

Not bad

From Everyday Mommy (click on picture to see it larger):

Life is funny

I posted over at Pyro today. Here's my first graphic:



An observant (= smartaleck) reader noted that there is an article over at Pulpit Magazine.

Topic? Contemporary Christian music.

Author? John MacArthur, Phil's pastor. Perhaps you've heard of him.

Lead graphic?


The rest of the day will tell how much trouble I'm in.

BREAKING NEWS: the law is insane

There is so much that is so wrong about this story. I could go on and on and on.

Instead, I'll just single this out:

While unauthorized entry into the United States is illegal, being in the country after having entered illegally is not necessarily a crime, according to a new ruling by the Kansas Court of Appeals.

So, I picture myself making this phone call in Kansas:

KANSAS POLICE: _______ City Police Department, what's your emergency?
ME: A man broke into my house! He's standing right here!
KANSAS POLICE: So?
ME: ...?!
KANSAS POLICE: Sir?
ME: Yes, maybe you didn't hear me: a man broke into my house, and he's still standing right here in front of me!
KANSAS POLICE (helpfully): And...?
ME: ...and I want you to come and arrest him!
KANSAS POLICE (again helpfully): For...?
ME: ( strangling noises )
KANSAS POLICE: Sir?
ME: A man broke into my house. Where did I lose you?
KANSAS POLICE: There's really nothing for us to do.
ME: What?!
KANSAS POLICE (patiently): Sir, it is illegal to break into someone's house...
ME (triumphantly): Progress! At last!
KANSAS POLICE: ...but it is not necessarily illegal to be in that house.
ME: ( thunderstruck silence )
KANSAS POLICE: Sir?
ME: It isn't illegal to be in the house you illegally broke into?
KANSAS POLICE: The court says "no."
ME: ( thud )

Spurgeon on Jesus' refusal of the mixed wine

“And they gave him to drink wine mingled with myrrh: but he received it not.”

— Mark 15:23

A golden truth is couched in the fact that the Saviour put the myrrhed wine-cup from his lips. On the heights of heaven the Son of God stood of old, and as he looked down upon our globe he measured the long descent to the utmost depths of human misery; he cast up the sum total of all the agonies which expiation would require, and abated not a jot. He solemnly determined that to offer a sufficient atoning sacrifice he must go the whole way, from the highest to the lowest, from the throne of highest glory to the cross of deepest woe. This myrrhed cup, with its soporific influence, would have stayed him within a little of the utmost limit of misery, therefore he refused it. He would not stop short of all he had undertaken to suffer for his people. Ah, how many of us have pined after reliefs to our grief which would have been injurious to us! Reader, did you never pray for a discharge from hard service or suffering with a petulant and wilful eagerness? Providence has taken from you the desire of your eyes with a stroke. Say, Christian, if it had been said, “If you so desire it, that loved one of yours shall live, but God will be dishonoured,” could you have put away the temptation, and said, “Thy will be done”? Oh, it is sweet to be able to say, “My Lord, if for other reasons I need not suffer, yet if I can honour thee more by suffering, and if the loss of my earthly all will bring thee glory, then so let it be. I refuse the comfort, if it comes in the way of thine honour.” O that we thus walked more in the footsteps of our Lord, cheerfully enduring trial for his sake, promptly and willingly putting away the thought of self and comfort when it would interfere with our finishing the work which he has given us to do. Great grace is needed, but great grace is provided.

This is so Spurgeon. Enjoy the marvelous writing, be warmed by his love for Christ — but also see how he turns from it, and from Christ's matchless suffering, and still finds an echo of meaning for our own walk and mindset, leaving us with a Godward challenge.

Self-publishing: to do, or not to do? That is your question

It's no grand secret that one of my most ardent dreams is to be published.

I currently have one completed (but needing-to-be-updated) book on the Holy Spirit, another that could be rounded out and published on Proverbs, and a novel.

Decades ago, I tried (and failed) to get the novel published. Did not try terribly hard. I think I tried one or two on the Holy Spirit, and failed. One of my personal issues is that I'm fairly easily discouraged.

One publisher's representative actually invited me to send him some of my writing, which was thrilling; but that was well over a year ago, and he never got around to looking at it. He's a very busy man.

So there are more and more ways online of self-publishing, including ways that require no setup fee. And my mate down-under Craig recently noted that Amazon is now into self-publishing.

So here are my questions:

1. Has anyone done it?
2. If so, what did you think of it?
3. (The big one): does self-publishing pretty well stigmatize you as lame, and ruin you forever as to the likelihood of being picked up by a "real" publisher?
   

UPDATE: see further discussion, very lively and informative, over at Pyromaniacs.

Free books!

(Kindred souls' eyes open a bit wider....)

From the Council on Biblical Manhood and Womanhood. Check it here.

h-t craig:

Sigh. Hugh Hewitt

Hugh Hewitt wants evangelicals to trust him and buy his books telling them how to think, as evangelicals. He makes a lot about being an evangelical. When it suits him.

So he has atheist loudmouth Christopher Hitchens on for hours "on the subjects of civilization's debt to Christianity and whether science undermines faith or the gaps in science undergird belief." And whom does "Evangelical Roman Catholic Presbyterian" Hugh Hewitt have on to give the other side?

A Roman Catholic professor, David Allen White.

The portion I heard brought up the subject of Hell, and Hitchens did his usual salvo. How did White respond?

Exactly as anyone could have predicted.

Basically he said, "Oh well, I'm Roman Catholic, so I look to my authorities" — and then he went on, and on, and on, about -- what? Matthew 25? Revelation 19-22? Romans 1-3?

Yes, I know. I'm "a very funny man."

Of course he didn't. He went on and on and on about Dante's Inferno. And on and on. In a tone appropriate to a delightful little chat over tea in the faculty room — rather than a battle with Satan's lies, for the souls of Hitchens and the many thousands of lost folks listening in.

Yeah. Way to give an answer to every man, and hold up the glories of Christ and His Gospel. And I'm sure that after his witty and scholarly excursus on Dante, Hitchens (now left without excuse) cried out, "Dante said that? Oh, my! What must I do to be saved?"

Of course, Hewitt had every reason to know White wouldn't be there to proclaim the truth and glories of Christ and His gospel — unless, of course (and I have to grant this) Hewitt knows something about White that hasn't shown up in the many times I've heard him on his show, or unless White (or Hewitt) launched into something Gospelish as soon as I clicked off in disgust.

Hewitt's Roman Catholic evangelicalism keeps seeming to have a lot of Rome, and not much of the evangel.

Now, Douglas Wilson has some really bad ideas, but he demolished Hitchens most thoroughly in their CT debate. Wish Hewitt had had him on.

Grudem rethinks baptism compromise

There's a great deal I appreciate about Wayne Grudem's Systematic Theology. He's raving mad about revelatory/attesting gifts, of course; and not a whole lot better on prophecy. But hey — nobody's perfect.

He has revised his section on baptism. His first edition said that a compromise (between pedo- and credo-) within a church. Now he's not so sure.

Read Grudem'[s thoughts and questions at the indispensable Justin Taylor's site.

Read John Piper's response. Sounds to me as if any Christian should be allowed to local church membership, regardless of his beliefs. Re-read that one, and think it through.

And Wayne Grudem responds to Pipers response to, well, him.

I don't feel free to comment myself, much, since I am a baptist member of a Presbyterian church, and pledged (from the heart) to preserve the unity of that church. Maybe we'll revisit this in the future.

But you feel free.

[PS -- if this dialogue continues, I'm unlikely to update endlessly]

Character -- Proverbs 9:12

If you are wise, you are wise for your own benefit;
if you mock, you alone will bear the consequences.
(Proverbs 9:12 CSB)

The trait I disliked about Derek Kidner's commentary on Proverbs when I first bought it, is the very trait I prize now, decades later: its brevity.

"Brevity" is the word I'd have used then. But I've come to see that it is not so much brevity as well-thought-out, masterfully-crafted conciseness. Kidner resembles Solomon himself, in that he is able to say a great deal in a few words.

As an example, consider his comments on the verse given above, particularly the bolded words:

This is perhaps the strongest expression of individualism in the Bible. Such statements (cf. Ezk. 18; Gal. 6:4, 5) are not meant to deny that people benefit or suffer from each other's characters (cf. 10:1), but to emphasize that the ultimate gainer or loser is the man himself. Your character is the one thing you cannot borrow, lend or escape, for it is you (Proverbs, TOTC, p. 83)

Huckabee: lame again

I discussed a bit earlier an interview in which GOP Presidential candidate Governor Pastor Mike Huckabee showed himself to be (putting it charitably) not ready for prime-time.

He's since had more exposure and more time on the campaign trail. How's he doing now?

Still lame.

That is, still lame if this article is accurate.

According to that article, a Huckabee supporter said this of competitor Sam Brownback, who apostatized to the Roman Catholic religion:

“I know Senator Brownback converted to Roman Catholicism in 2002. Frankly, as a recovering Catholic myself, that is all I need to know about his discernment when compared to the Governor’s.”

Honestly, the man has a point. One point. As I've argued before in discussing the candidacy of cultist/candidate Mitt Romney, if someone wants power, his worldview is open for consideration. If he's a member of a kooky cult, or a totalitarian religion, that's worth considering. It isn't everything, but it isn't nothing.

So what should Huckabee have done? What could he have done?

Oh, he could have done all sorts of things, ranging from saying, "I challenge Sam Brownback to a debate on the Biblical Gospel," to saying "These are important questions, and voters have a right to consider them. For my part, I'm no judge of Sam Brownback's soul, and am going to focus on the policies and philosophies he and I would bring to the White House" — or a dozen other things.

He could have done those things. What did he do?

Well first, Huckabee "issued a statement on Wednesday saying that his campaign neither disseminated nor condoned the message." I think that's just fine.

But then he reportedly called Brownback a “Christian brother,” and said, “As believers, we don’t have time to fight each other.”

Now I know what his apologists will say, and after they've said it all, these truths — assuming the accuracy of the report — will still stand:

1. Rather than shelving the issue, Huckabee joined it.
2. In joining the issue, he issued the ruling and judgment that Roman Catholic Sam Brownback was a "Christian brother."
3. In doing that, Huckabee swept aside the Reformation, and blood of Christians martyred by Rome; worse
4. In doing that, Huckabee swept aside central and vital issues such as the Gospel and the sufficiency of the Word of God.

Comments are welcome, but do note the new rules in the side-column.

Preaching two services

Yesterday I had the joy of bringing the Word to my congregation, as my pastor and some others are on a mission trip to the Philippines.

The sermon was titled Why Does It Matter That Jesus is a Ransom? Once Brevity Week is over at Pyromaniacs, I mean to make a few comments and link (again) to it. My point here will be a different one.

It was — well, I was about to say that it was my first experience preaching the same sermon at two services back to back. But that's actually my point. My wife Valerie insists it isn't.

Generally speaking, if I have to choose between my memory and Valerie's, I'll usually favor hers. She has a very good memory. Not infallible, but very good.

Now, I really really can't recall ever preaching at two services, but Valerie is ontologically certain that I have. She makes a good case, because she has a specific memory about it, and while I don't remember the two-services part, the story does sound familiar.

Valerie says that at this first service, in my sermon I was making the point very emphatically that we Christians must study our Bibles. In accompaniment of the point, I held my Bible up as I spoke about how imperative it is that all believers be Bible students.

After the service, Valerie pointed out to me that the Bible I held up was a brand-new Bible, with bright shiny gold-edged pages. And it looked as if it had never been opened.

Next service (she says), I used a different Bible.

Well, that's a pretty compelling illustration. As I say, it sounds familiar, though I really don't remember the preaching-two-services part.

I don't think this experience yields anything so amusing, except for one thing. To keep with the church's time schedule, it's a new guideline that the sermon aim a certain length. After the first sermon, I told an elder/friend, "It was 45 minutes or under!"

After the second, I told him, sincerely ruefully, "That was not 45 minutes or under."
I felt very bad about it.

And I think that's the version that's online.

Every command an opportunity, an invitation, and a test

This morning I read the almost-too-familiar Proverbs 3:5 in the light of a personal situation.

You probably don't need to hear it, but here it is: "Trust in the LORD with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding."

Recently I preached a sermon on that text; this morning I preached another to myself. It occurred to me that every commandment is an invitation, an opportunity and a test.

Note the wording. Solomon does not say, "You will trust in Yahweh, and this will happen." The verb is imperative, and it is in the second person singular. It is addressed to me, to my will. I may not do it, or I may. God will not do it for me. Others cannot do it for me.

And so it is an opportunity and an invitation. I am to bring all my thinking and willing and cherishing (heart) to the activity of trust.

Now, it is the nature of trust that it is always, to some degree, counter-intuitive. Sometimes it is easier, sometimes it is harder; but by definition "trust" comes into play when the desired state of affairs is not evident. That is, I don't trust God for a safe drive to work. He already gave me one. I don't trust that my pc will function. It is, right now. I don't trust my wife to give me a sweet "good night" kiss. She already did.

No, trust comes into play in the not-yet, and even more in the not. By that I mean specifically when something is not in fact going as I believe it should, and there is no sign whatever of the hand of God moving for good in it. That is when I must trust. It is when I have prayed and prayed over something that I have every reason to believe is for His glory, and there isn't even a cloud the size of a man's fist. That is when trust is essential.

So all the time I read in the Bible of the importance of faith and trust, and Christian writers stress the centrality of these virtues, and I nod and assent. But when do I do it? What is the opportunity to exercise this grace?

Is it not necessarily in the dark? Certainly so:

Who is among you that fears the LORD,

That obeys the voice of His servant,

That walks in darkness and has no light?

Let him trust in the name of the LORD

and rely on his God (Isaiah 50:10)

Is not trust called for in the chaos of others' sin, or my own failures or cluelessness, or fear? Isn't that the opportunity to do what I read about, talk about, even preach about? It must be so.

But at the same time, is not every command a test? God does not move Solomon to write, "Trust is one option, give it a go if you want; it's up to you." He simply says trust. In fact, He says, Trust with all your heart.

So now, I'm to do it. I will, or I won't. It's an opportunity, but it's a test. It is no less a moral responsibility than whether or not I will love my wife and be true to her, or be honest and tell no lies. To fail (or refuse) to trust is to disobey. I am obliged to trust, morally and spiritually obliged.

But I'll be darned if that makes it any easier, sometimes.

Glorying in God's salvation

While praying on the way to work, I thanked God "for my salvation... really, for Your salvation!" Then I went on to praise God at length and with deep feeling for the fact that my salvation was conceived of by God, devised by God, executed by God; that it depends on God — and (the necessary corollary) not on me.

This is expressed or reflected in many Scriptures, such as Jonah 2:9b, "Salvation belongs to the LORD!" It is expressed every time we call God the Father or the Son "Savior" (Luke 2:11; Philippians 3:20; 1 Timothy 1:1; 2:3, etc.) — not "co-Savior" or "Enabler."

I am very old, and every year impresses this truth upon me more deeply. My pastor has said it well and often, and I paraphrase: if the most infinitesimal aspect of salvation depended on me, on something I must bring to the process — my free-will, my faith, my faithfulness — that is the precise point to which I would make a bee-line, and I would instantly fail, and I would be instantly and forever lost.

Praise God that He knows how to save, and does save. Praise God that our salvation in Christ is His salvation.