The Self-Excluded

For Whom Did Christ Come?

All Christians  profess that the season of Advent or Christmas is the remembrance and celebration of one of the pivotal events in all human history.  We do not use the expression lightly.  We mean this to be literally true, not mere rhetorical or hyperbolic flourish.  The Living God became flesh, took on human nature, and entered into history, to save His people from their sins (Matthew 1:21). 

He did not come to save everyone.  He came to save only His people.  At first glance such a non-inclusive mission would naturally mean He had come to save the descendants of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.  The Gentiles would therefore be excluded.  As Christ’s ministry transpired, however, things became a little less obvious and a little more profound.  It became clear that “His people” included the Gentiles, non-Jewish humanity.  He spoke of “another” flock, one not of “this fold” which He must bring and shepherd (John 10:16).  He did indeed come unto His own after the flesh, but His own people received Him not (John 1:14).  In the course of the rejection of Christ by many, if not the majority, of His people,  He turned to the Gentiles, the non-Jewish people, to those outside the Covenant, the temple, the law, and the sacrifices. 

At the end of His earthly ministry in the flesh He was declaring that He had come to save the world and that He would draw all people to Himself.  (John 12: 27-50).  But this was foreshadowed at the very beginning of His ministry.  Right from the outset He had made it clear that there were certain Jewish people He had not come to save.  They were excluded.  They were self-excluded insofar as they had disqualified themselves.

How?  At the outset of His public ministry, in one of the most sarcastic and cutting remarks ever made by our Lord whilst on earth, He said of the scribes and the Pharisees that He had not come to call them.  “Those who are well,” He said, “do not need a physician, but those who are sick.  I came not to call the righteous, but sinners.”  (Mark 2: 17)  By referring to them as “well” and “righteous” our Lord was being sarcastic, but fairly and accurately so.  For the righteousness of His critics was self-diagnosed.  They were righteous in their own eyes, and therefore had no need of the Saviour of mankind.  At the end of His public ministry He denounced these very same for their extreme wickedness, corruption, and sin (Matthew 23). 

At Advent, we remind one another of the glorious coming of the Son of God into human history to save the world.  But, He did not come to save everyone.  There are plenty in our day for whom Christ did not come at all.  There are myriads who believe that they are too correct, too upright to have need of a saviour.  The very notion is not just beneath them, it is so far removed from their self-regard as to be grossly offensive. 

He came to save sinners, not the righteous.  We thank God that He came for this purpose.  If he had not, we Christians all know that we, of all men, would have no hope, and would for ever remain in the outer darkness. 

Christmas Carols

Drumming Glory

The Christmas season is approaching. We always need reminding that the core focus of Christmas for us, His people, is to be worship, with great joy. Here is a rendition of The Little Drummer Boy, using the greatest of musical instruments–the human voice. 

This particular piece is a reminder that worship of the God who is now amongst us clothed in human nature, who is bone of our bones and flesh of our flesh, warmly accepts the worship of children, and that it is the adoration of children which provides us jaded adults with a tutorial in worship. 

>Doug Wilson’s Letter From America

>A Christmas Eve Invitation

Expository – Topical
Written by Douglas Wilson
Friday, December 24, 2010

In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit . . . merry Christmas.

Welcome, and thank you for coming this evening. We are grateful to have the opportunity to share our Christmas celebrations with you.

What is Christmas about? What is the point of the whole thing? We don’t want to make the mistake of assuming too much in our celebrations, in such a way that outsiders are left guessing about what the point might be. That would be rude, and Christmas is no time for such rudeness.

The first Christmas occurred in a world that was governed by death. This death had gained authority over all things because of the sin of our first parents, Adam and Eve, in which we all have sadly participated. Because God is perfectly holy, nothing unholy can have fellowship with Him, and must necessarily be separated from Him. Because the human race became unholy in this sin, the whole human race was at that time separated from the fellowship with God that we had previously enjoyed. That separation from His life is what the Bible calls death. Just as an electric appliance that is separated from the socket in the wall is dead, so also we all, separated from His life, became dead. We did not cease to exist, but we ceased to run in the way that we were designed to run.

So sin is the condition of being unlike God, and death is what we call the natural ensuing separation from Him. In that sorry condition, most people struggle along to conduct their affairs. They are, as St. Paul says, “without God and without hope in the world” (Eph. 2:12). The apostle also teaches us that our way of “life,” which seems so natural to us, is actually a way of constant and unrelenting death (Eph. 2:1-5).

If we want evidence of this condition of death, we need look no further than our own hearts—our petty gripes, our selfishness, our lusts, our hypocrisies, our vainglorious competitions with others, our covetousness, our envy, and so on. God is not like that, and I am afraid that we are.

Stuck as we are in this condition, we cannot lift ourselves out of it. Appliances that are unplugged have no power at all—and therefore have no power to plug themselves back into the wall. We can’t fix our own problem, and we cannot even prepare ourselves to be fixed.

So this life, this power, that we have been separated from, is something we have no power to get back to. That means that if we and this life are to be reunited, that life must come to us—we cannot go to it, or, as I should say it, we cannot go to Him. We are unholy and powerless, and so we cannot ascend up into Heaven. But this limitation of ours is not a limitation of His. We cannot ascend to Heaven, but Heaven can descend to us. And that is exactly what Heaven decided to do. If we cannot go up, the Lord Himself will come down.

Jesus, the Son of God, who is the embodiment of life itself, became a man. This stupefying event, this miracle of miracles, is what we celebrate every Christmas. The Word became flesh, and dwelt among us. “Veiled in flesh the Godhead see, hail the Incarnate Deity, pleased as man with men to dwell, Jesus our Immanuel.” Immanuel means God with us. Please note that it does not mean “us with God.” Before we can be with God, God must be with us. Before man can go up, God must come down.

But Jesus did not become a man just in order to find out what it was like down here. He did not come down just for the experience. He wasn’t slumming it, and He was not here as a tourist. Jesus took on a body like ours, so that He would be able to die. The experience of death was not possible in Heaven, and so Jesus took on a mortal body here so that He could taste death here. He did this so that we could, if joined to Him in faith, die along with Him. Now here is the glorious secret—if we die in Him, that means we are dying to the condition of death that surrounds us on every hand. And dying to death means . . . life. Where does death go when it dies? If death could ever die, it would live forever.

So Jesus did not die so that we wouldn’t have to. Jesus died so that we might die in a particular kind of way. That “way” includes the prospect of resurrection. Jesus died and rose so that we could, by faith, die and rise in Him. Outside of Jesus, our condition of death is nothing but an endless spiral downwards, into the pit that has no bottom. But in Jesus, death is a once-for-all definitive event, and it is followed immediately by a life that is eternal, endless, and everlasting. It is followed by glory.

Now I have said several times that we are joined to this dying and rising of Jesus by faith. What does that mean? What does that look like? It means listening to a message like this one, and it means believing it down to the roots of your soul. It means accepting this message as a truth tailored just for you. It means identifying with Jesus through the sign that He appointed, which is baptism with water. If you are already baptized, it means trusting Him to restore your baptism, and if you are not baptized, it means coming to Him humbly, asking Him to wash all your sins away. It means that you are “all in.” It means you have become a Christian.

Jesus died on the cross and rose from the dead. This was in view from the very beginning. We are not dragging Good Friday and Easter into our Christmas celebrations. Christmas is the foundation of all that follows.

And so, just as we welcomed you warmly to this Christmas Eve service, so we also warmly invite you to Jesus Christ Himself. He is the way, the truth and the life. He is the death and resurrection. He is the beginning and end of all things. He is Heaven and earth reunited. He is the salvation that the prophets told us about from ancient times. He is the only way out of death. He is the only way that death can ever die. He is the Savior of the world, the one who takes away all the sins of the world. All of that is offered to you.

Every Christmas we are privileged to lift Him higher, and every Christmas we invite the ends of the earth to look to Him and be saved. Every Christmas we are gratified to see that more of the world has in fact emerged from its long night of death. You are invited to come with us as well. Come, and welcome, to Jesus Christ.

>And So It Begins . . .

>The Great Battle of Our Time

Christmas can be a maudlin festival.  Baby Jesus in the manger, surrounded by lowing cattle, doted upon by loving parents, visited by shepherds.  Every loving parent feels drawn to the story.  Every mother identifies and feels affirmed.  This is the best that Unbelief can do with Christmas.  It is a pale perversion of the truth.  It is a comforting myth. 

In no way do we wish to undermine the celebration of the Advent.  It truly is a time for rejoicing, thanksgiving, and dancing on the high places.  But in order to do that we have to see the reality of what it was and is.  Here are just some of the realities that make dancing on the high placed mandatory for those who truly see and believe.

Firstly, there are the antinomies of Advent that leave us astounded, humbled, yet soaring in wonder.  Justin Taylor writes:

Charles Spurgeon preached in 1858 on the wonderful paradoxes of the incarnation:

Infinite, and an infant—
eternal, and yet born of a woman—
Almighty, and yet hanging on a woman’s breast—
supporting the universe, and yet needing to be carried in a mother’s arms—
king of angels, and yet the reputed son of Joseph—
heir of all things and yet the carpenter’s carpenter’s despised son.

In the light of these awesome realities and perplexities we are stumped by the Incarnation and by Advent.  We find ourselves “lost in wonder, love, and praise”.  We metaphorically want to take our shoes off, for we sense ourselves to be on holy ground.

Secondly,  the Advent that chills our bones because of the curse represented in it.  The conditions of the birth of Christ were not romantic, but degraded, bearing all the hallmarks of the curses of the Covenant.  To birth a child lying amongst animals is shocking and degrading.  The mud, the filth of animal faeces, the stench of urine, the abject poverty–all this stabs at our vitals because we know we were its cause.  Because of our sin and covenant breaking, Christ came forth to take on the full weight of divine wrath in our place.  As the Heidelberg Catechism so succinctly puts it:

Q.37: What do you understand by the word “suffered”, as in ” . . . Suffered under Pontius Pilate”?

That during his whole life on earth, but especially at the end, Christ sustained in body and soul the anger of God against the sin of the whole human race.

He started bearing that curse for us at His first entrance into the world. 

Thirdly, the Advent is the beginning of the end.  No doubt the angels of heaven looked at one another and said, “And so it begins–the great battle of all time.”  In this battle our Lord would be triumphant.  He would bear the curse, He would enter into Hell and free those of His people captive there.  He would rise and ascend to the Father and be installed as King of the heavens and the earth.  From that moment, the earth would start to fill up with the glory of God, until finally it would cover the earth as the waters cover the sea.

So, at Advent there is wonder, there is humility and shame, but there is also dancing.  He has come, and His Kingdom has come with Him–and we are part of it.  This is more important to us than anything.  “God has highly exalted Him, and bestowed on Him the name which is above every name, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, of those who are in heaven, and on earth and under the earth, and that every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.”  (Philippians 2: 9–11)  Nothing can avoid this outcome.  Nothing can stay His hand.  Every struggle and battle we face will but end up magnifying the greatness of His glory, power, and victory. 

Whilst it is true the powers arrayed against us are great this will only redound to the greater glory of the Son of God as they are brought before His feet. 

This is why Advent is one of the most profound festivals of our year.  “And so it began . . .” 

>Islam and the West are Kissing Cousins

>Redemption by Law

Islam and the post-Christian West have a great deal in common. Far more than both think. They share the same grand vistas of Unbelief, of denial of the sovereign claims of the Lord Jesus Christ. The upshot is that on almost every issue or contention, the debate between the West and Islam is merely over tactics and tastes. It is never more than an intra-familial debate–although at times heated and hostile.

We were struck again with this as we reflected upon the public march in Manukau City this past weekend against alcohol’s easy availability. The NZ Herald blared forth in normal fashion with the “human interest” angle, designed to arouse pity and anger. A couple had tragically lost their daughter in a road accident caused by her drunkenness. The problem: she had become a victim to New Zealand’s binge drinking culture.

The 22-year-old alcoholic fell victim to what her parents described yesterday as New Zealand’s “widely accepted” binge-drinking culture. Three months ago, her life support was switched off after she was partially flung from the car she was driving drunk in a crash south of Morrinsville.

Now, we do not seek to trivialise in any way the tragic death of this young person. Nor do we wish to parley the grief of the parents into something unimportant or inconsequential. Our heart goes out to them: to lose a child is a heavy, heavy burden.

It is the particular use of the story that we object to. The blatant sub-text is that the social problem of alcoholism and binge drinking in New Zealand can be dealt with or prevented by prohibition. Granted–not total prohibition–but relative prohibition. If the government were to pass laws restricting the sale and availability of alcohol to teenagers then the problem would reduce. An adjacent sub-text is the notion that an evil force exists to promote drinking–namely the complex of brewing companies, supermarkets and liquour retailers, and the hospitality industry, all of whom benefit commercially from the sale of liquor. They extract filthy lucre from the suffering of helpless victims, a modern manifestation of the vile inkeepers, Monsieur and Madame Thernadier from Les Miserables.

“The government ought to do something” is the ubiquitous nauseating refrain of the West. The Church of the Lord Jesus Christ sings “Onward Christian soldiers, marching as to war,” and the people of the land sing “Onward parliamentarians, redeem us from all evil”.

And it is here that the West and Islam begin to kiss passionately. Both believe redemption and sanctification is by law. Pass enough laws and promulgate sufficient restrictions and all evil will be banished from the land. Islam is just a bit more consistent and serious about it than the self-indulgent, sybaritic West–that’s all. But we are rapidly getting there.

In Islam alcohol is an evil–so it is totally banned. When alcohol consumption becomes a problem in New Zealand, we immediately turn to the same type of solution: redemption through laws and bans. It is just that we argue for partial prohibition and increasing restrictions. It is a matter of degree, not substance.

The West hates the burqha and the virtual imprisonment of Islamic women, objecting to their “chattelisation”. Yet the rationale is eerily akin to that employed to restrict the sale of alcohol because far too many people in New Zealand are getting drunk and committing stupid, if not criminal acts. Islam argues that lust for women outside of marriage is evil: the cause of the evil is not what arises in the heart of men, but the occasion of temptation–which is the sight of a woman. To a heart inflamed with lust, even the smallest part of the human anatomy can be eroticised and an occasion for lust–an ankle, a finger, or an ear. To, to “protect” their women, Islamic justice calls for the complete covering of the women. However, what is really at work is an external, legalistic attempt to stop men sinning. Men who lust are victims of circumstances, just as was the poor young woman who lost her life in the NZ Herald story. Change tthe circumstances, cover the women and men (not women) are protected from lust.

Redemption by law; attempting to make people holy by changing external circumstances. This is the “gospel” of Islam. It is nothing other than slavery and tyranny. It is also the “gospel” of the West.

Islam and the Unbelieving West have a great deal in common (which is why the West believes it can reason with Islam to a middle position). This approach truly makes sense and is completely understandable. But it also means that the West’s opposition to Islam is feigned. It is not a clash of world-views at all, but a mere inter-denominational rivalry. Salvation by law and sanctification through regulating externalities is so deeply held in both traditions that, in the end, both will form an unholy axis to turn upon the Lord Jesus and His church.

>A Christmas Benediction

>Best Wishes to our Readers

On this day of Advent, 2008, we wish all of you the ultimate blessing and felicity–to have and know the favour of the Living God. In the words of Job, “though He slay me, yet will I trust in Him.”

May the Lord bless you and keep you.
May the Lord make His face to shine upon you, and be gracious to you.
May the Lord lift up the light of His countenance upon you and give you peace.

JT

>Meditation on the Text of the Week

>Advent Meditation

For a child will be born to us, a son will be given to us;
And the government will rest on His shoulders;
And His name will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Eternal Father, Prince of Peace
Isaiah 9: 7—9

One of the great dangers with “signature texts” is that over time they become divorced from the specific context of Scripture in which they are found and they become separated from redemptive history, of which they are a part.

Our text is one of the great signature Advent texts, but there are few today who have ever read it in its context. For many it has become a kind of slogan. Consequently, they risk abstracting and neutering its meaning. For many, Isaiah’s prophecy concerning the coming of the son-who-will-be-given has been idealised and platonised into something that affects only the inner realms of the human heart.

But Isaiah delivered this Word from God in human history—in particular, in the eighth century BC—to Israel and Judah. The divided kingdom had increasingly turned away from the Lord and had entered into the worst kind of abominations and evil. They had aped the degeneracy of the surrounding nations—and even sought to exceed it. As a result of their rebellion against God, Isaiah announces that judgment was coming—firstly, in the form of an Assyrian devastation of the northern kingdom of Israel in 722BC, followed by successive despoilations of Judea, culminating in the destruction of Jerusalem a century or so later at the hand of the Babylonian armies in 586BC.

Sin and oath breaking was to end in a judgment which resulted in the tearing down of Israelite civilisation and subjecting it to the heel of Gentile overlords. Neither Israel nor Judah were ever again to enjoy freedom from the hand of the oppressor, except for brief flickering moments during the time of the Maccabees, who themselves proved proved in a short time to be worse than corrupt themselves.

Despite all this, Isaiah 9 commences with a pronouncement that a time of redemption and deliverance would come. The place of the ancient relics of the northern kingdom would, in time, be visited with a great light, which would shine in the darkness.

But there will be no more gloom for her who was in anguish; in earlier times he treated the land of Zebulun and the land of Naphthtali with contempt, but later on He shall make it glorious, by the way of the sea, on the other side of Jordan, Galilee of the Gentiles.
The people who walk in darkness will see a great light; those who live in a dark land—the light will shine on them.
Isaiah 9: 1—2

Into that land of darkness, under the heel of the Gentile overlords, racked with unbelief, superstition, ignorance, false religion—and the enslavement of heart and mind that always accompanies sin—into that dark land came the One—the one that would be born to us, the child that would be given to us. But what would this child do?

Isaiah tells us very clearly what the One would do:

For thou shalt break the yoke of their burden and the staff on their shoulders,
The rod of the oppressor, as at the battle of Midian.
For very boot of the booted warrior in the battle tumult,
And cloak rolled in blood will be for burning, fuel for the fire;
For a child will be born to us . . .
Isaiah 9: 4—6

The text leaves us in no doubt. The One would remove the oppressor and the oppression: the slaves would be liberated; light would chase out darkness; the joy and gladness as of rich harvest would replace the dirge of subjugation and oppression.

And so it came to pass. In the fullness of time the Son did come forth. To leave us certain and without doubt the Apostle declares that when Jesus spent eighteen months or so in Galilee teaching in the regions of Naphtali and Zebulun it was in fulfillment of this prophecy of Isaiah. (Matthew 4: 14, 15) A great light dawned—and that light shines to this day, and nothing can nor ever will extinguish it.

But what actually happened? It is here that the story takes an unexpected turn, which most did not expect. It was hidden, even from the angels, for centuries. (I Peter 2: 12) For, we would have expected that the One would come forth to reinstate what once was. We would have expected that He would roll back history. That is precisely what the vast majority of Israel was hoping and looking for. The oppressor Romans to be driven out; Israel to be released from foreign pagan domination, lo these six hundred years; pure worship to be restored; freedom accomplished and made inviolate.

Yet within a brief forty years after the One coming forth, the Roman oppression over Galilee of the Gentiles had become more cruel and hard than ever; Jewish blood instead of life giving water had soaked into the empty, untended, vacant fields of once fertile Galilee; the ranks of Roman slaves had been swelled by hundreds of thousands of Jews dragged in chains to Rome; Jerusalem had been “deconstructed” under one of the cruelest devastations ever recorded in human history to any city—a devastation which left the Babylonian onslaught of a half-millennium ago a mere melee in comparison.

This final destruction of Israel closed the circle and ended the matter. The time of the Old Covenant had passed; a New Covenant had been made. But what of the One. Had He failed? Had Isaiah’s prophecy fallen into vanity? Had man succeeded in thwarting the will and purpose of the Living God?

No. It is here that the unexpected turn was revealed. The coming of the Son was like no other. There were none before Him; there will be none after Him. His Kingdom is too dreadful, awe-ful, and powerful to be compared to any that had before or since been known. The light He brought shone upon the fundamental cause, the root of all human suffering and degradation—it dealt with the sin of human beings, our rebellion against God. It dealt the death blow to that ancient curse from Eden. It broke the death-hold of Satan over the human race.

It was and is sin which is the true and only cause of all oppression and slavery in human history. Assyria, and Babylon, and Rome were its progeny; they would not be broken and removed from the earth, until sin was broken and atonement made. The light that dawned in far off Galilee of the Gentiles was a light greater than the human race had ever seen, far greater than it had ever dared in which to believe or hope. It brought a healing more deep, more profound, more complete, more thorough, and more perfect than the sons of Adam had or would ever see. Now indeed oppression was, can, and will be, broken.

But for ancient Israel, and the majority of its leaders and people, it was not to be. For they clung to their diabolical independence and arrogant pride in the face of God. They mocked the Son and sought to extinguish the light. It was expedient, they thought, that the One should die to preserve their evil lifestyles. They clung to Rome, even as Rome was preparing to devour one of its own true children.

But God’s purposes were deeper and higher—inconceivably so. The light that dawned upon Galilee of the Gentiles was indeed for the Gentiles. It was too light a thing that He should raise up the lost of Israel; He had determined that His salvation would encompass the uttermost parts of the earth. So, two thousand years later, we, in one of the most far flung places of the earth from Galilee, we, who were Gentiles, are found bowing the knee and lifting up glad song to Him, the light bearer upon ancient Galilee. Our shackles of sin have been broken in heart and mind, family and household, church and covenant community.

Around us Fortress Unbelief appears strong and impregnable. But this is just Satanic “spin”. Look again. At its foundations, the cracks are deep, wide and ever growing. “There will be no end to the increase of His government,” declared the prophet.

Even so, come Lord Jesus. May the light which You shone upon our brethren so long ago in Naphtali and Zebulun shine ever more brightly in our lands in the coming year.