Tag: God

The Remarkable Compassion of God

On By Jason SmithIn Devotional1 Comment

By Jason Smith

The Return of the Prodigal Son by Rembrandt van Rijn

But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and felt compassion, and ran and embraced him and kissed him… “For this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found” (Luke 15:20, 24).

Is it possible for any one of us to be too far gone from God’s perspective? Some may think so. They imagine God to be patient with people, but that eventually His patience runs out. In Christian circles, I often hear people describe certain individuals as “the hard cases” — those who seem so stubbornly resistant to God and His love that they are, we imagine, beyond hope.

I recently heard a man tell his story of Jesus rescuing him when he was at his absolute lowest point in life. He had been living on the streets, was addicted to heroin, and despised anything with a whiff of Christianity. Yet, to his astonishment, he crossed paths with a young woman who told him about the love God had for him in Jesus Christ. Many years later, in God’s marvelous timing, this man cried out to God for mercy, and God opened his heart to receive Christ. Although change in his life took time, he was immediately aware that he was a new man. Over the next few years, his life transformed dramatically. Thinking back to what God had done in his life, he said he now felt like “God’s trophy” of grace that God could show off to the world, as if to say, “Look what I can do in someone’s life.”

Relationship over Religion

When Jesus of Nazareth showed up on earth, He said some strange things. For example: “I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance” (Luke 5:32). To many, this sounded confusing. Wait, Jesus wants to hang out with those who rebel against God? I thought He only wanted to be with the morally upright?  They even nicknamed Jesus “friend of tax collectors and sinners” (Matthew 11:19). It was meant as an insult. Jesus pointed these Pharisees (admired for their obedience to the law) back to Hosea 6:6, where God says, “I desire steadfast love and not sacrifice, the knowledge of God rather than burnt offerings.” In other words, God was saying, “I don’t merely want your ritualistic sacrifices thoughtlessly brought to me like Baal or one of the countless other pagan gods. I want you to know Me.”

Jesus told a story to some of the religious elite in His day that captured what the heart of God is really like. These religious do-gooders imagined that they were on God’s good side. “After all,” they seemed to say, “Surely God will take into account all our moral efforts.” What they missed, however — and what I fear many who grew up in the church miss — is that God is more interested in a relationship with His children than with religious compliance.

A Lost Son

“There was a man who had two sons,” Jesus began (Luke 15:11). The younger, impetuous son had the audacity to ask his father for his share of the inheritance that was coming to him. Even today, if someone asked a parent for his inheritance early, they would be frowned upon. In ancient times, however, this would have been the equivalent to saying, “Father, I wish you were dead.” The younger son wanted his father’s stuff, but cared little for the father himself. But it is even more surprising that the father actually complied with his son’s wishes. The community would expect the father to revoke any expected inheritance and shun his son as an insolent boy.

Jesus goes on to say this foolish son travels to a “far country,” presumably so he can get away from his father and out from under all the household rules and restrictions. Now, in this land of the Gentiles, this Jewish boy was free to gratify every desire that was forbidden in his father’s house. No doubt this young man attracted many. He wore the finest robes, ate the most scrumptious meals, and had everything money could buy. This young fool squandered all his father’s hard-earned wealth on prostitutes and whatever else he craved in the moment (v. 30).

But eventually, this fool began to reap what he had sown. Just as he spent his final coin, a terrible famine afflicted the land. Therefore, Jesus says, “he began to be in need” (v. 14). The harsh realities of the fleeting satisfaction of sin, the transitory nature of wealth, and the unpredictable vagaries of life in a fallen world all came crashing down on him in a moment. In desperation, “he went and hired himself out to one of the citizens of that country, who sent him into his fields to feed pigs” (v. 15).

Jews considered swine “unclean” (Leviticus 11:7). To be hired by a Gentile to feed such animals was just shameful. It gets worse though: “He was longing to be fed with the pods that the pigs ate, and no one gave him anything” (Luke 15:16). Here was a man at the lowest of lows. Only a short time ago, he was the envy of the neighborhood, as he spent his wealth on every thrill and entertainment imaginable. Now, he sat in his rags, wallowing in the mud like a beast, envious of filthy swine because they at least had their pig slop.

He Came to Himself

It was in that pigsty that a thought occurred to him. For a season, the young man had attempted to push away any thought of his father altogether. But now, the thought of the man he had once so brazenly scorned entered his mind. “How many of my father’s hired servants have more than enough bread,” he mused, “but I perish here with hunger!” (v. 17).

Jesus says, “He came to himself,” finally recognizing what a fool he had been. All the so-called friends he had acquired recently came and went with his cash. None of them had even the slightest care for him now that he was nothing but a miserable worm in their eyes. The painful thought dawned on him: he had turned his back on the one man who genuinely loved him. But after such a gross display of rebellion, would his father ever take him back, this son who had so impudently slapped him across the face by wishing he was dead?

As he starts the long journey home, the young man prepares his “I’m sorry” speech, reciting in his mind: “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son. Treat me as one of your hired servants” (vv. 18-19). The confession is sincere, no doubt, but from his plea we can hear the sickly strain of legalism. He calls himself “unworthy,” and he was certainly right, so far as that goes. But he imagines his only hope is for his father to graciously hire him as a slave. Perhaps he imagines he can one day pay off his grievous debt as a last-ditch effort to gain his father’s approval. It is significant that the only reason he’s willing to return home, with head hanging in shame, is his realization that the one he once called “Abba” is unlike anyone else he knows. His father is a generous man, eager to bless others.

His Father Saw Him

“And he arose and came to his father. But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and felt compassion,” (v. 20). Oh, what precious words are these! While this pitiful son was still in the distance, perhaps before he ever saw his father, his father saw him. The father, who had been faithfully gazing at the horizon, finally saw that for which he had long hoped. But what a miserable looking fellow: dressed in rags, weak and starving frame, and covered in filth and shame. He was perhaps the most wretched and unlovely creature his father had ever seen. And yet, his father “felt compassion, and ran and embraced him and kissed him” (v. 20).

The ancient Greeks loved to show off their calves, but for a Jewish nobleman to gather up his flowing robes and race down the road in a dead sprint would have been unheard of. In fact, it would have brought him dishonor in the eyes of others. Do you see what is happening here? Whereas before the shameful sight would have been this stumbling reject returning to his home, now the father has, in a sense, traded places with his son. Because of his great love for his son, he is now the one bearing the shame. The son would return home not alone, but under the protective arm of his father.

The onlookers must have stared in amazement. Had not this pathetic fool spat in his father’s face? And now his father receives this rebel without a cause with open arms? Before the broken man can get a word out, his father is holding him against his chest and planting a kiss on his head. In fact, in the original Greek, it says, the father “kept on kissing him.” Can you imagine a more lavish display of acceptance? When was the last time you were greeted this way at a family reunion?

With quivering lips, the son tries to get out his confession and make his plea, but before he can even ask to be made a slave, the father interrupts him. “Bring quickly the best robe,” he commands the nearest servant, “and put it on him, and put a ring on his hand, and shoes on his feet” (v. 22). The robe, the ring, and the shoes all symbolize one thing: this young man is the master’s son, not slave.

Though tears no doubt fill the father’s eyes, he loudly proclaims a feast will be held in his son’s honor. This is no time to mourn. It is time to celebrate! “For this my son was dead, and is alive again! He was lost, and is found!” As the New Living Translation puts it: “So the party began” (v. 24).

Our Compassionate Father

What follows at the end of this grand story that Jesus tells is actually the most disturbing. The elder brother, who is working out in the fields (as always), learns of his brother’s return and, rather than rejoicing, he responds with smug self-righteousness. How dare this foolish sinner show his face around here again!

The father, in yet another display of compassion and grace, goes out to the field and pleads for his elder son to come home. But, with curled lip, the elder son replies, “Look, these many years I have served you [literally, “slaved for you”], and I never disobeyed your command, yet you never gave me a young goat, that I might celebrate with my friends. But when this son of yours came, who has devoured your property with prostitutes, you killed the fattened calf for him!” (vv. 29-30). The elder son’s bitter tone betrays his failure to ever really love his father. He sees all his acts of obedience as joyless slavery. He wanted to celebrate with “friends,” but never to delight in the father himself.

The tragedy is that although this elder son stayed home, he was just as lost as the younger son once was. The father tells him, “All that is mine is yours.” In other words, if you had only asked to delight in what is mine, I would have gladly celebrated with you. The younger son, though a wretched sinner, had returned to the arms of his father, recognizing the generosity of this old man. “It was fitting to celebrate and be glad, for this your brother was dead, and is alive; he was lost, and is found” (15:32).

Jesus told this parable so that we would have a renewed understanding of God. Norval Geldenhuys has rightly said, “So inexplicably wonderful is the love of God that He not merely forgives the repentant sinner, but actually goes to meet him and embraces him in His love and grace.”[1] No matter how long a sinner has lived in staunch rebellion, God is always eager to welcome him or her home. He runs out to meet the one hanging their head in shame. How vital it is to remember that all we have is by sheer grace, and when yet one more prodigal son finds grace in the arms of our compassionate Father, it is only right that we should celebrate.

[1] Norval Geldenhuys, The Gospel of Luke, New International Commentary on the New Testament (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1951), 408.

The Holy Mystery of Christmas

On By Jason SmithIn Devotional1 Comment

By Jason Smith

Worship_Advent-Wreath4_2015

“He made himself nothing by taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness. And being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to death— even death on a cross! Therefore God exalted him to the highest place and gave him the name that is above every name, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue acknowledge that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father” (Philippians 2:7-11, NIV)

I was reading from one of my heroes, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, recently. Bonhoeffer was a German Lutheran pastor who took a stand against Nazism’s cruelty during the Third Reich’s reign of terror. In one of his Christmas sermons, he reminded his listeners to contemplate the “holy mystery” of Christmas. Rather than trying to “figure out” how God could become a human or domesticating Christmas to a quaint little Nativity scene, complete with a smiling baby Jesus and cute little barn animals looking on, he said we ought to be filled with wonder during this season.

Bonhoeffer reminds us that Christmas is about God entering this world and being rejected even at the birth of Christ. Our Lord was placed in a manger — a feeding trough — not because it matched the décor of His nursery back home in Nazareth, but because no one was willing to give up their bed for Him or even His very pregnant mother.

In Matthew’s account, we read of the sinister King Herod who, upon learning of Jesus’s birth, immediately sought to destroy Him. An entire town suffered the loss of their male babies, simply because a jealous king thought he could undo the saving plan of God. Like Hitler in Bonhoeffer’s day, Herod was willing to slaughter the weak, underprivileged, and oppressed in order to assert his power over others. Sure, the biblical portrait of our Lord’s arrival puts less emphasis on having a “holly jolly Christmas,” but doesn’t Scripture give us a much more realistic portrait of our problem, and therefore what we truly need? In fact, the Bible offers a picture of hope that our world is desperate for today.

Holy Scripture tells us just what was happening that first Christmas so long ago: “The true light, which gives light to everyone, was coming into the world” (John 1:9). That is one reason our family hangs Christmas lights and lights candles every year. Those tiny lights serve as a reminder that on that cold night long ago, the true Light was coming into this world, piercing the darkness. This thought is staggering. Into a world being ripped apart by hatred, selfishness, racism, oppression, and greed, Jesus came. “And that is the wonder of all wonders,” Bonhoeffer writes, “that God loves the lowly … God is not ashamed of the lowliness of human beings. God marches right in.”[1]

The Gospel of John continues, “He was in the world, and the world was made through Him, yet the world did not know Him. He came to His own, and His own people did not receive Him” (John 1:10-11). This is not so much an indictment on the Jewish people as it is on the entire human race. We all need to own up to our disregard of God in our lives. Even those who cherish Jesus as their precious Savior and Lord today didn’t always do so. And still today most of the world rejects Jesus for who He truly is: the Son of God and Savior of the lowly.

Despite the hostility this world had toward Him, Jesus still came. He knew the cost of sharing in our humanity and experiencing the consequences of our brokenness. He knew that loving us to the end would mean dying a sacrificial death in our place. And yet, Jesus still came. But why did He come? Why go through all the trouble of living in this distressed and hurting world?

This brings us to the great hope of the gospel. John says, “But to all who did receive Him, who believed in His name, He gave the right to become children of God, who were born, not of blood nor of the will of the flesh nor of the will of man, but of God” (John 1:12-13). God came as a little baby, but He did not stay a baby. Jesus grew to full manhood, loving both God and neighbor each step of the way. All the way, in fact, to the cross.

The holy mystery of Christmas is that despite all the reasons He could have left us to ourselves, Jesus still came, in obedience to His heavenly Father’s will. And because He was the obedient Son, we who have “believed in His name” are granted the overwhelming privilege of becoming children of God Most High. This is where the true joy and peace of Christmas is found. Stop and wonder at the mystery of it all this Advent season.

[1] Dietrich Bonhoeffer, God Is in the Manger, trans. Jana Riess (Louisville, KT: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010), 23.

What Is God Like?

On By Jason SmithIn Theology for Life2 Comments

By Jason Smith

“‘To whom then will you liken Me that I would be his equal?’ says the Holy One” (Isaiah 40:25).

beautiful-sunrise-banjarmasin-1492545578 - Rose Barraza

Theologian A. W. Tozer once said, “What comes into our minds when we think about God is the most important thing about us.” That is a thought-provoking statement, isn’t it? There seems to be a whole world of ideas resting on Tozer’s conclusion. He went on to say, “For this reason the gravest question before the Church is always God Himself, and the most portentous fact about any man is not what he at a given time may say or do, but what he in his deep heart conceives God to be like. We tend by a secret law of the soul to move toward our mental image of God.” [1]

In other words, our view of God will always influence what we, His image-bearers, aspire to be — whether we are aware of it or not. How we answer the single question “What is God like?” tells us a great deal about ourselves. As many have put it, we become like what we worship.

So what is your view of God? Is He stern and demanding? Is He persistently jovial like Santa Claus? Is He loving? Is He distant? Is He everywhere but still hard to find? Is He even real? Is He disappointed all the time? Or what about this one: is He so incredibly compassionate that He is willing to suffer with you and even die for you? I wonder how you might answer any one of these questions. When you stop to think about it, to ask such questions is to put your finger on the most fundamental issue of life. What is God like? What could possibly be a more important question to consider? The purpose of the entire universe hinges on God’s existence, nature, and character.

In the Beginning

The Gospel of John begins with this astounding claim about Jesus of Nazareth: “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things were made through Him, and without Him was not anything made that was made” (John 1:1-3). Then John tells us that this Word who “was God” did something we struggle to even wrap our minds around. “And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen His glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth” (v. 14). The unseen Creator (v. 3) and Son of God (v. 14) made Himself visible to the world.

At this point, our minds, hungry for answers, begin to bump up against their limits. How does the infinite, all-powerful God of perfect majesty become a helpless and tiny human baby, completely dependent on His young mother? John does not say the Word ceased being the infinite God; instead, He added humanity to His divinity. In this way, the God of the universe made Himself approachable, tangible, and truly knowable. To the average Joe, this Word-made-flesh would have looked so ordinary. He did not hover above the ground everywhere He went. His face did not emit a paranormal glow. And He certainly wasn’t ensconced in an effervescent cloud everywhere He traveled. Instead, this God-man not only appeared every bit as human as you and me, He actually was.

In verse 17, John elaborates: “For the law was given through Moses; grace and truth came through Jesus Christ.” The great deliverer Moses revealed certain things about who God is, through the law. The law expressed God’s goodness, justice, and holiness. It also expressed His compassion. When Moses brazenly pled with God to show him His glory, God rejected his request — at least partially (Exodus 33:18-20). Essentially, God told him, “I can’t do that, Moses. You’d die if you came into contact with the fullness of My glory.”

Yahweh, Yahweh

Therefore, God revealed Himself to Moses in a different way, by pairing His eternal Name “Yahweh”[2] (which He first revealed to Moses back in Exodus 3) with a description of His character. God took Moses up onto a mountain and “covered” him with His hand while the full radiance of His divine being passed by. The quivering Moses would only be allowed to witness the tail end of God’s glory so that he could live another day. But in that mountaintop experience God Himself proclaimed to Moses — and, by extension, to us — what He is like.

“Yahweh, Yahweh, a God merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness, keeping steadfast love for thousands, forgiving iniquity and transgression and sin, but who will by no means clear the guilty, visiting the iniquity of the fathers on the children and the children’s children, to the third and fourth generation” (Exodus 34:6-7).

Here, in the law (or Torah), God’s perfect character is revealed. Yahweh tells us He is merciful, gracious, slow to anger, abounding in steadfast love, faithful, and forgiving. Yet, here is where we meet one of Scripture’s classic paradoxes. Right after saying He is both ready and eager to forgive sin, God tells us He “will by no means clear the guilty” (v. 7). How are we to make sense of this? Doesn’t a willingness to forgive imply a willingness to clear the guilty? No, and here we see the coming together of two fundamental truths about God. He is more gracious, loving, and forgiving than we could ever dare to imagine. However, He is simultaneously more just, holy, and pure than we ever thought possible. So where does this leave us? How do we solve this apparent enigma?

Scripture repeatedly affirms that we have a big problem, and that is our sin. The Bible tells us “there is no one who does not sin” (1 Kings 8:46). Although we are prone to think of ourselves as good people (Proverbs 20:6), God knows our hearts. And His verdict is clear: “If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us” (1 John 1:8). When we consider all this, there seems to be one disturbing conclusion: we are the guilty of Exodus 34:7. Therefore, we each have much at stake in understanding how God can be both forgiving and just.

Grace and Truth

Jumping back to the first chapter of John’s Gospel, let’s see that statement in verse 17 once again. “For the law was given through Moses; grace and truth came through Jesus Christ.” Now think about this. Grace and truth are really the twin concepts above that we are trying to reconcile. God is supremely gracious by nature and eager to forgive sin. On the other hand, if even a human judge decided to let a serial killer go free because he showed himself sufficiently sorry, you would not accept that. You would not call such a judge extraordinarily forgiving; you would call him corrupt. Why? Because to let the murderer go would be unjust.

Similarly, overlooking sin would be unjust because it would be treating the serious crime of rebellion against the King of Heaven as a minor infraction, which it is not. It would not be in keeping with the truth. John is telling us that grace and truth are fully realized, revealed, and reconciled in Jesus Christ alone. In a sense, the paradox of God’s statement about His own character in Exodus 34 has been hanging in tension all through Scripture — that is, until the arrival of Jesus.

In Jesus, God’s character is embodied and illuminated with vivid and vibrant colors in high definition. “No one has ever seen God; the only God, who is at the Father’s side, He has made Him known” (John 1:18). In the original Greek, it actually says that Jesus has exegeted or fully explained God. That is, in Jesus we see what God is really like. That is why Jesus can later refer to Himself as “I Am” (Yahweh) (8:58) and even tell His disciples, “Whoever has seen me has seen the Father” (14:9).

Look at Jesus

But again, how can God both forgive sin and not overlook sin? How can grace and truth be reconciled? When Jesus first began His earthly ministry, John the Baptist heralded Him as “the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world!” (1:29). With that statement, John pointed ahead to the cross, where Jesus, like a sacrificial lamb, would lay down His life for the world. 700 years before Christ’s crucifixion, the prophet Isaiah wrote:

“But He was pierced for our transgressions;
He was crushed for our iniquities;
upon Him was the chastisement that brought us peace,
and with His wounds we are healed.” (Isaiah 53:5)

We can be forgiven of our sin, but only if we believe in the One who bore our sin for us and was punished in our stead. That is why God’s character is never more vividly portrayed for all the world to see than in the cross of Jesus Christ, where both His astounding love and His perfect justice are on full display. As the psalter so beautifully writes, “Lovingkindess and truth have met together; Righteousness and peace have kissed each other” (Psalm 85:10). Scripture says that when we place all our trust in Christ’s sacrificial death and victorious resurrection, we are forgiven, cleared of all guilt, and found righteous in Christ (Romans 10:9-10; 2 Corinthians 5:21; Galatians 2:16).

So how do we know what God is like? Look at Jesus. More specifically, look at Jesus on the cross. There, on Calvary, with hands outstretched to embrace a world that has rejected Him, we see what God is like.

Photo credit: Rose Barraza

[1] A. W. Tozer, The Knowledge of the Holy (Zeeland, MI: Reformed Church Publications, 2017), 1.

[2] In most English translations, the Hebrew name of God, “Yahweh,” is translated simply as “the LORD” (all caps), but a closer translation is more like “I Am” or “He Is.” In other words, Yahweh is the self-existent, eternal, and personally present Creator.

Where Intimacy with God Is Forged

On By Jason SmithIn DevotionalLeave a comment

By Jason Smith

“Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path” (Psalm 119:105).

Columbia Gorge

This last weekend, I stood atop Mount Defiance, a peak that overlooks the Columbia River Gorge. The view was breathtaking. Across the hills, pine forests comingled with the orange, yellow, and red of leaf-bearing trees turning their autumn hue. The broad river below shimmered under the bright sun that shone alone in the blue vault above. To the north stood the majestic peaks of Mount Rainier, Mount Adams, and Mount St. Helens. To the south, Mount Hood towered over the surrounding landscape. It was beautiful, and I thanked God for His work of art. One might wonder what could possibly move the heart to worship the Creator like such an experience outdoors. Psalm 119 provides an answer.

Psalm 119 is something of a love poem written about God’s Word, the Bible. We read statements like: “Oh how I love your law! It is my meditation all the day” (v. 97). It gives us a sense of just how central Bible reading must be for the man or woman who desires to walk hand-in-hand with God on the journey of life. There is a powerful lesson here for the committed follower of Jesus. Our relationship with God is not primarily strengthened through nature hikes, where the grandeur of God’s creative power is on full display, or through reading the great works of clear-thinking theologians. It’s certainly true that staggering views of creation can ignite a sense of awe and worship that is God-directed. Similarly, soul-thrilling treasures can be mined from the writings of Augustine, Edwards, Spurgeon, and many more. And yet, above and beyond these, God has made it clear that it is the Bible alone that should occupy the central place in the believer’s relationship with God.

It is through reading Scripture that true intimacy with God is forged. It is God’s Word that moves our hearts to bring bold requests to our Maker in prayer. It is through studying the Bible that we are guided, not by vague notions of what a good God might want, but by clear enunciations of His will for every believer (1 Thessalonians 4:1-8; 5:18; 1 Peter 2:25). It is the Bible — not creation — that tells us how we come into a relationship with God (2 Timothy 3:15). Every follower of Christ should reflect the attitude of the psalter in Psalm 119:35-40:

“Lead me in the path of your commandments, for I delight in it.

Incline my heart to your testimonies, and not to selfish gain!

Turn my eyes from looking at worthless things; and give me life in your ways.

Confirm to your servant your promise, that you may be feared.

Turn away the reproach that I dread, for your rules are good.

Behold, I long for your precepts; in your righteousness give me life!”

From this passage, we learn that the Lord’s commandments are not burdensome; they are “good” (v. 39). In fact, they are a source of “delight” (v. 35). The implication of verses 36-38 is that when Scripture is not central to our lives and constantly redirecting our thoughts, we are prone to selfishness (v. 36), to “looking at worthless things” (v. 37), and to ignoring rather than fearing the God for whom we are made (v. 38). The words of Scripture are the words of life — apart from which we have no hope. Your Creator authored them, and they are intended for your good. As Peter said to Jesus, “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life” (John 6:68).

Prayer: Father God, I often feel the pull of temptation to all kinds of worthless pursuits. Please redirect my thoughts and attitudes by Your mighty Word. Like the psalter, fill me with an unhindered longing for the Spirit-inspired Word of God (Psalm 119:40)!

 

Photo credit: Marilee Janzen