Saw this in my travels. This is a great quote from Lutheran Pastor and Theologian, Hermann Sasse:

Your resurrection began when you were baptized.  ”We were buried therefore with Him [Christ] by baptism into death, so that as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might walk in newness of life” (Romans 6:4).  With Christ you died at that time, with Him you were buried, with Him you shall rise.  With Him, for you have been made a member of His body.  That is the deep secret of the fellowship of the saints.  So we, “though many, are one body… For by one Spirit we were all baptized into one body” (I Corinthians 12:12-13).  And again: “Because there is one bread, we who are many are one body, for we all partake of the one bread” (I Corinthians 10:17).  That is certainly a fellowship which the world does not know and can never understand.  It is the imperishable communion of saints.

–Hermann Sasse, “The Church Lives:  A Sermon on Acts 2:42-47 for the First Sunday After Trinity” (June 27, 1943), We Confess:  The Church, p.134

Last week, Matt Redmond posted a very timely and appropriate post on his blog.  It addresses a problem that has been my biggest disappointment in coming to the Reformation.  Many of us in the churches of the Reformation, simply lack kindness and feel that providing ‘The Truth” is enough and people should be grateful we give them even that.  Some quarters of the Reformed camp are publicly renown for this, but this afflicts Lutherans too, especially those of the Confessional variety. This malady afflicts all quarters of the Church to a greater or lesser degree (Matt wrote this about Evangelicals) but it has been especially grievous to find it among those who brag about the Christ centered and grace centered doctrines of the Lutheran Church. He graciously has allowed us to republish his post here in its entirety.

“And you ought not to think yourself on an equality with the Misses Reed and Master Reed, because Missis kindly allows you to be brought up with them. They will have a great deal of money, and you will have none: it is your place to be humble, and to try to make yourself agreeable to them.”

“What we tell you is for your good,” added Bessie, in no harsh voice, “you should try to be useful and pleasant, then, perhaps, you would have a home here; but if you become passionate and rude, Missis will send you away, I am sure.” - from Jane  Eyre by Charlotte Bronte

This scene is early in the story of Jane Eyre, orphaned and taken in by an uncle, now dead. The uncle exacted a promise of kindness from his wife on behalf of Jane. Attacked by her older male cousin and now sentenced to a room for hours, one rumored to be haunted, she is scolded by the servants.

The Reed family, along with all the servants, even the one servant who deigned to speak tenderly to Jane Eyre, understood that as long as they housed her, there was no other kindness needed. This was sufficient.

She is ridiculed when not ignored. Lied about often and left out of festivities such as Christmas, she seeks warmth where it may be found – a ragged toy, a borrowed book or a quickly fading hearth.

As soon as I read the above the other night, I knew I had seen in this story what I’d been seeing in the church.

The current evangelical disposition is to act, preach and lecture as if all we must do is dispense truth. This is kindness enough. As long as we have the house of truth we can wink at ridicule. Brash is celebrated as boldness. Lack of kindness is applauded as being the passionate convictions of a straight-shooter.

The Reed family thought housing Jane was enough.

We evangelicals think the truth is plenty kind.

Prognosticators, who I agree with in almost every way have decried the loss of absolute truth and prophesied the impending doom of evangelicalism because of it. But I think they are wrong on this. Evangelicalism’s great threat is not merely error for which we must erect battlements. It is the loss of loving-kindness within its own walls. The doctrinal bombs thrown up against the walls of orthodoxy are not nearly as deafening as the clanging gongs of our words of truth without love.

When the first opportunity presented itself, for her to leave the only real house she knew, Jane Eyre took it. She knew she could be cared for with a roof over her head at Gateshead. She would eat well enough. She would be clothed. She would have a comfortable bed. But she chose to leave Gateshead because this kind of care without kindness was not enough.

I cannot help but think we are headed in this direction. Maybe we are already there. Some say the mass exodus has already begun. While Christians young and old yearn for steadfast convictions in this world set upon a sea with no anchors to be found, they also long for some kindness. They ache for kindness.

You may disagree. You may think this is not what people really want. Those who say they want kindness really want a wishy-washy faith. They are limp-wristed momma’s boys who want a hippie Jesus.

How kind.

My response is to think we should be kind regardless whether it is what they want or not. Whether they are our brothers and sisters in Christ or we are not sure of their salvation or they are our enemies. Whether they have women pastors or not. Whether they disagree with us on essentials or peripherals.

For some reason this is controversial to many people. My guess? We think if we are kind to them, they will think we are accepting them in their errors. So we correct them and call it “tough love.” We don’t want them to think they can get away with error or sin.

But maybe this is exactly how it’s supposed to be? Isn’t this what grace is at its core? God loving us in a way that looks like we are getting away with something? If we cannot see this, how can we be sure we have not drawn people into a house of legalism in the name of truth?

Jane’s aunt held Jane’s living in her house over her. The grace of kindness was not known. She had a luxurious roof over her head but had not earned by blood anything like kindness. Just like how those we disagree with have not earned kindness through correct doctrine or acceptable convictions.

We are happy to invite them into the house of truth but an invite to sit around the hearth of kindness is becoming more and more unusual as it becomes more and more crucial.

This is a brilliant and very pointed piece for those who have ears to hear, and we thank Matt for allowing us to repost it.  Be sure to visit his blog for more good and thought provoking writing.

Great quote from Gerhard Forde on the topic of Sanctification:

From the book Christian Spirituality: Five Views of Sanctification (pp. 31-32)

But if we are saved and sanctified only by the unconditional grace of God, we ought to be able to become more truthful and lucid about the way things really are with us.

Am I making progress? If I am really honest, it seems to me that the question is odd, even a little rediculous.

As I get older and death draws nearer, it doesn’t seem to get any easier. I get a little more impatient, a little more anxious about having perhaps missed what this life has to offer, a little slower, harder to move, a little more sedentary and set in my ways.

It seems more and more unjust to me that now that I have spent a good part of my life ‘getting to the top,’ and I seem just about to have made it, I am already slowing down, already on the way out. A skiing injury from when I was sixteen years old acts up if I overexert myself. I am too heavy, the doctors tell me, but it is so hard to lose weight! Am I making progress?

Well, maybe it seems as though I sin less, but that may only be because I’m getting tired!

It’s just too hard to keep indulging the lusts of youth. Is that sanctification? I wouldn’t think so! One should not, I expect, mistake encroaching senility for sanctification! “But can it be, perhaps, that it is precisely the unconditional gift of grace that helps me to see and admit all that? I hope so.

The grace of God should lead us to see the truth about ourselves, and to gain a certain lucidity, a certain humor, a certain down-to-earthness.

‘How does one die well?’

This was an ever-present question in the medieval mind. It was a consuming question. Plague took whole towns. The mortality rate among children and infants was staggering; nearly one fourth of all children in medieval Europe died before the age of five. Death was an ever present reality in every family. Luther lost two of three brothers to outbreaks of the plague and then later, as a student, lost three close friends and fellow students at once when plague took hold in the town of Erfurt and the university there in 1505. For the modern American mind, it is a hard thing to fathom.

The picture on the left is one of thousands; little tracts with woodcuts like this littered the countryside of Luther’s Germany (and all of Europe) as people struggled with how to die. They instructed the dying to deafen their ears to the whispers of devils, avoiding temptation, and strive to imitate Christ and think on the Virgin Mother and the Saints.

The pains of Purgatory and even Hell waited for those who failed at the Ars Moriendi, the Art of Dying. Absent in these instructional tracts were the death of Christ in the place of the sinner and the comfort of the sacraments.

We deal with death very differently (or don’t deal with it as the case may be) in our day. In answer to this, the presentation below was given by Pastor William Cwirla of Holy Trinity Lutheran Church, Hacienda Heights and The God Whisperers radio show.

I can’t recommend it highly enough!

‘Well done’ doesn’t cover it as those of you who are familiar with this presentation (and with Pastor Cwirla’s considerable preaching gifts) can attest. This is a tonic for our ‘deathless’ culture — the Art of Dying with a decidedly Lutheran twist*. Download this into the IPod or the device of your choice and hit play! Streaming is also available.

Pastor Cwirla presented this talk at the Good Shepherd Institute’s Annual Conference in 2010.  They have, in turn made it available on their website FOR FREE!**

Here are the links to both audio and video versions:

Dropping Dead in Jesus: A Biblical Theology of Death and Dying – audio

Dropping Dead in Jesus: A Biblical Theology of Death and Dying – video

The actual presentation starts after Pastor Cwirla is introduced: at about seven minutes and thirty seconds in for the audio and nine minutes and fifty seconds for the video.

And thanks go to Courtney R. for pointing this out to me. How did I miss this one?!

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*Also, Pastor Cwirla mentioned a book that is a prime example of the Lutheran Ars Moriendi, Handbook of Consolations by Johann Gerhard.

**It is worth checking out the rest of GSI’s website. Lots of other very worthy resources!

I was wrestling with the Gospel reading for this coming Sunday, John 1:43-51, Where Jesus calls Phillip and Nathaniel. These are some of my notes:

Right after Jesus called Andrew and Andrew collected his brother, Simon (Peter), Jesus calls Phillip, and Phillip goes and finds Nathaniel.

With the parallel accounts of the calling of Andrew and Simon and the calling of Phillip and Nathaniel, it is impossible to avoid comparisons.

For instance, Andrew tells his brother, Simon, ‘we have found the Messiah’. Pretty simple. Simon has no lines.  He is brought to Jesus and Jesus renames him ‘Peter’.

On the other hand, Andrew finds Nathaniel and tells him, in an extended, theologically sophisticated way that,

‘We have found him of whom Moses in the Law and also the prophets wrote, Jesus of Nazareth, the son of Joseph.’

The ‘we’ probably includes Andrew and Peter who are are from Phillip’s home town, since John  prefaces this conversation between Phillip and Nathan with the information that Phillip, Andrew and Peter were all from the same fishing village of Bethsaida. The ‘we’ could also include Nathaniel and judging by his response to Phillip’s invitation, I would say that it does. Nathaniel was seeking Messiah too.

The way in which Phillip introduces Jesus into the conversation would indicate something about Nathaniel. This is not just a simple fisherman like Peter. Nathaniel is a student of scripture.

Not only does Phillip refer to prophecy, He also mentions Jesus home town (a Galilean town not too far from Bethsaida) and that Jesus is the son of Joseph. This might indicate that Nathaniel was already aware of Jesus, son of Joseph, of Nazareth. Be that as it may, it is obvious that Nathaniel was a man who wrestled with scripture and the promises of God.

‘Can anything good come out of Nazareth?’

Nathaniel says what he thinks; he is about as subtle and nuanced as a hammer. Nazareth was kind of a frontier town – think the HBO show, Deadwood – and the people there had the reputation of being crude, country bumpkins.

‘Come and see’ – another reference to seeing.  You’ve always got to keep on your toes with St. John. This subject of seeing and sight and vision itself in John’s Gospel is too rich to cover in this little post. Suffice it to say that when someone says ‘come and see’ in reference to coming to see Jesus, it might mean a bit more than just meeting the guy and shaking His hand. This can also be read with a deeper meaning: ‘come, that you might see.’

Jesus sees Nathaniel coming.  ‘Look, a true Israelite in whom there is no deceit’. ‘True Israelite’ is probably a reference to Nathaniel being not only a good Jew, but also a student of Torah.

‘…In whom there is no deceit’ — This could refer to a guileless nature or to a certain lack of subtlety. The comment about Nazareth would indicate the later — Nathaniel’s words and opinions are unvarnished. Since Jesus knew the interchange between Philip and Nathan, Jesus observation may have been a funny way of responding to Nathans insult of Jesus’ home town.

Also, Jesus may be saying that this is an Israelite indeed, a true son even of his father, Israel.

Jacob, whom God renamed Israel, was a man characterized by deceit (his name literally means, ‘heal-grabber’). He also wrestled with God, quite literally. I wouldn’t make these connections except for Jesus’ commentary on Jacob’s dream later in the passage. This saying of Jesus could also be a sort of pun; Jesus probably said it in Aramaic and it could have been heard something like, ‘Behold, a son of Israel in whom there is no Jacob.’

‘How do you know me?’ This question from Nathan betrays that Jesus’ comment hit the mark.

‘Before Philip called you, when you were under the fig tree, I saw you.’

This is the part where I struggle.

First, upon meeting him Jesus knows about Phillip calling Nathaniel. Along with Jesus’ accurate description of Nathaniel’s character, this would be a bit unsettling, I’m sure.

‘When you were under the fig tree’ — This is an expression found in rabbinic literature referring to the study of Torah, so it could be that. In fact, I think it probably is something like this, since fig trees were used as a place for Torah study and even symbolized Torah study:

He who tends the fig tree will eat its fruit”, compares Torah study to a fig tree (Medrash Bamidbar Rabba 12:9). The Medrash asks, why is Torah compared to a fig tree? Because other trees, such as grape vines and date trees, are harvested all at one time. However, a fig tree is harvested over time because its fruit do not ripen all at once. Just as a fig tree is harvested over time, so too Torah is not studied in one or two years, but is studied over time. (http://www.yiaberdeen.com)

Also fig trees symbolize the peace and safety of the Messianic kingdom (Micah 4:4, Zechariah 3:10).

In the Syriac Dictionary, there is a story that Nathaniel’s Mother hid him under a fig tree when Herod slaughtered the innocents in that region in a quest to eliminate the baby Jesus. If that story were true, the reasons for Nathaniel’s outburst of doxology would be obvious, but we don’t find this in the text. Interesting to note, however.

He could have also been located under a fig tree when Phillip came to him, but this would be a bit of a red herring if it were the case and John wouldn’t waste the ink. John always writes things with a purpose — that you may believe (John 20:30), so the fig tree is a critical component to the retelling of events and important whether we understand it fully or not. The definite article ‘the’ in ‘the fig tree’ would probably point, as strange as it seems, to the rabbinic expression for study of scripture rather than an actual fig tree.

Also the construction of the Greek here is telling. Nathanial asks, ‘From where do you know me?’ Jesus answers, ‘… from under the fig tree’.

Nathaniel’s response is dramatic:

‘Rabbi, you are the Son of God; you are the king of Israel.’

Wow! Even Jesus seems pleasantly surprised by Nathaniel’s response. Like Peter’s confession, Nathan doesn’t speak this but by the Holy Spirit.

Jesus says,

“You believe because I told you I saw you under the fig tree. You will see greater things than that.” He then added, “Very truly I tell you, you will see ‘heaven open, and the angels of God ascending and descending on the Son of Man.”

Nathaniel will see greater things for sure. This is certainly pointing to the signs that Nathaniel (possibly St. Bartholomew in the other Gospels) will witness as Jesus’ Disciple.

Then Jesus references Jacob’s dream (Genesis 28:10-17) and puts Himself at the center. For Jews, the Fig Tree also symbolizes the Tree of Life in the Garden. It is also a ladder of sorts (Zacchaeus, the diminutive tax collector, even used it to see Jesus in Luke 19:1-10). Rabbi’s talk about climbing it to pray and the value, rather, of staying below its branches for that purpose.

A fig tree is a great tree for climbing (no one should dispute), especially since you sometimes get a reward of fruit for your effort. So, Jesus bringing up a dream about a ladder with angels ascending and descending (on the Ladder or on Jacob is debated. The Hebrew allows for either. Jewish Midrash apparently points to it being on Jacob). What I’m saying is that the Fig Tree and studying underneath it makes for a great backdrop for Jesus cryptic comments. On top of that, Jesus is always talking about heavenly realities in John’s Gospel and the people interacting with Him are always thinking in earthly terms (see John 5:39).

Nathaniel was ‘under the fig tree’ studying Torah. The fig tree, according to these connections would symbolize Jacob’s Ladder and, consequently, Jesus himself.  The story of Jacob’s dream about the  ladder, the Sulam symbolized the giving of Torah, among other things. Jesus, in so many words, is telling Nathaniel that he is Torah. Jesus is Torah in the flesh and the fulfillment of Torah. Nathaniel would eventually see this greater revelation.

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Endnote: The title Jesus applies to himself, Son of Man, is also a very important title and deserves a treatment. I’m not going to give it here. Perhaps in a later post.

Here is one of my favorite poems.  As an experiment, I would suggest reading this aloud to yourself. Doing it may surprise you, especially if you just, ‘never got poetry.’

My favorite is the eighth stanza; reminds me of Dr. Rosenbladt’s house.

The Wise Men
By G.K. Chesterton

Step softly, under snow or rain,
To find the place where men can pray;
The way is all so very plain
That we may lose the way.

Oh, we have learnt to peer and pore
On tortured puzzles from our youth,
We know all labyrinthine lore,
We are the three wise men of yore,
And we know all things but the truth.

We have gone round and round the hill
And lost the wood among the trees,
And learnt long names for every ill,
And served the mad gods, naming still
The furies the Eumenides.

The gods of violence took the veil
Of vision and philosophy,
The Serpent that brought all men bale,
He bites his own accursed tail,
And calls himself Eternity.

Go humbly…it has hailed and snowed…
With voices low and lanterns lit;
So very simple is the road,
That we may stray from it.

The world grows terrible and white,
And blinding white the breaking day;
We walk bewildered in the light,
For something is too large for sight,
And something much too plain to say.

The Child that was ere worlds begun
(…We need but walk a little way,
We need but see a latch undone…)
The Child that played with moon and sun
Is playing with a little hay.

The house from which the heavens are fed,
The old strange house that is our own,
Where trick of words are never said,
And Mercy is as plain as bread,
And Honour is as hard as stone.

Go humbly, humble are the skies,
And low and large and fierce the Star;
So very near the Manger lies
That we may travel far.

Hark! Laughter like a lion wakes
To roar to the resounding plain.
And the whole heaven shouts and shakes,
For God Himself is born again,
And we are little children walking
Through the snow and rain.

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G. K. Chesterton, “The Wise Men,” in G. K. Chesterton Collected Works Volume X Collected Poetry Part 1 (San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 1994), 186-187.