Weird Getups and the Son of God

Last weekend was Bay to Breakers, an annual race in San Francisco that begins on the Bay side of the city downtown and ends at the ocean side of the city in Golden Gate Park. Now, B2B is a race, but the race part is really only accidental to the event. The most important part of B2B is not the actual running, but all the ridiculous outfits that people put on for it. It’s a sort of un-Halloweeen, a chance for San Franciscans to dress in the most creative and outrageous costumes they can come up with.

For example…

Now, it’s surprising to see a felt wooly mammoth and a bunch of hipsters dressed like Pebbles and Bam Bam walking down Market St. The outfits at B2B are often clever, outrageous, and sometimes rather offensive (people here love them some nudity). When you see people dressed as you’ve never seen before, you can’t help but do a double-take. When you see a singular personage, you can’t help but stare.

And so, when John encounters the Risen Christ, with a long robe, a golden sash around his chest, hair as white as wool or snow, eyes aflame with fire, feet like bronze in a furnace, a voice like the roar of the ocean, seven stars in his right hand, a two-edged sword coming from his mouth, and a face shining bright as the sun, you can understand why he couldn’t help but stare (Revelation 1:12-16). Jesus is supernaturally dressed as no San Franciscan could imagine.

John is painting a word-picture of the Lord Jesus arrayed in all his splendor. When John saw Jesus, he fell down as though dead (v.17). Not only is Christ an intimidating figure to behold, but the contrast between his transcendent glory and our sinful frailty is startling, if not mortifying.

  • Jesus’s hair was white as wool or snow: he is infinitely wise, all-knowing and discerning in his judgments. He is “the only wise God” (Rom. 16:27).
  • His eyes are aflame with fire: He sees all. Nothing escapes his gaze. He knows the heart of all (Acts 1:24).
  • His feet like burnished bronze will crush any and all enemies, including the head of “that ancient serpent, who is called the devil and Satan” (Rev. 12:9).
  • His voice like the sound of many waters is the same one that spoke universes into being (Heb. 1:2-3).
  • He holds creation’s most powerful beings in his right hand, seven at a time (Heb. 1:6), and the two-edged sword coming from his mouth pierces “to the division of soul and of spirit, of joints and of marrow, and discerning the thoughts and intentions of the heart” (Heb. 4:12).
  • The radiance of his sun-like face attests to his infinite glory by which heaven itself will be lit for all eternity (Rev. 22:5).

In contrast to Jesus, I am not wise. I do not see all, but in part, as through a glass darkly. My strength is worth little, and my words are frail and often self-contradictory. If Christ’s shines like the sun, I couldn’t possibly be any more than a burned out nightlight.

John sees Jesus and then sees his own sinful unworthiness, and “falls down as though dead.” Then our blessed Savior speaks grace to him: “Fear not, I am the first and the last and the living one. I died, and behold I am alive forevermore, and I have the keys of Death and Hades.” (v.17-18).

Don’t worry, Jesus says. You can’t compare to me. You don’t compare to me. You may deserve death, but I am the living one. Fear not. I have the keys of Death and Hades. I determine that you will have life.

What would life be like if we lived in light of this truth? Christ has the keys of Death and Hades! Who cares about possessions or finances or earthly glory? Who needs affirmation or approval or self-esteem? We have God-esteem! We have eternal security in the palm of Jesus’s hand. May that truth lead us to worship in word and in deed.

The Golden Lampstands

(Sorry for the last few weeks of quiet here. I had been travelling. A lot [for me].)

Then I turned to see the voice that was speaking to me, and on turning I saw seven golden lampstands, and in the midst of the lampstands one like a son of man (Rev. 1:12-13a).

The first readers would have understood quite a bit from the image of the seven lampstands. When God told Israel to make a tabernacle, he instructed them to make a lampstand with seven lamps upon it (Ex. 25:31-40). Those lamps were to be kept burning as a perpetual sign of God’s presence in the tabernacle (and later, the temple) among his people. As long as those lights were burning, Israel could have assurance that God was with them in the holy place. The fire upon those seven lamps pointed to the presence of God’s Spirit (Zech. 4:1-8).

In John’s vision, we see Jesus “In the midst of the lampstands.” There are few more comforting phrases in Scripture. The lampstands aren’t there in John’s vision to make sure he can see everything alright; the “one like a son of man” is giving off enough light to allow him to see everything just fine (v.16). The seven lampstands are the seven churches of v.11. The “one like a son of man” wants John to write to these churches, but he doesn’t need John as a go-between. This Shining One is not in some distant land far away from these churches. He is “in the midst” of them, among them, right smack dab in the middle of them.

What you and I look like in Revelation.

How many times have I felt God’s distance? How many times have I looked around me and felt alone, believed I was on my own, that whatever I was facing it was all up to me to get through it? And yet, what John sees behind heaven’s curtain is that the Lord Jesus—the “one like a son of man”—is never far off from his people. He is right in their midst. The church, as long as it has its lampstand, is never without the presence of our Savior.

Of course, I should never doubt this fact (Josh. 1:5; Heb. 13:5). Yet there is something so comforting about “seeing” Jesus there, among the golden lampstands. When I’m honest, I know there is nothing particularly holy or appealing about me. When we are honest as a gathered church, we know there probably isn’t much about us that would make God want to hang out with us. And yet, there is Christ, telling us through his apostle of his profound love for us, revealing himself in all his glory and splendor, and reminding us that, even in his all-consuming holiness, he is right there among us. “In the midst of the lampstands.”

He is never far off. We are never alone. And when we feel it, we can remember the image of Jesus shining brightly in the splendor of his holiness, standing among us, the golden lampstands.

Brothers and partners

We all want to be something when we grow up. We ask our children what they want to be and expect they will have answers. We expect them to dream, and dream big if they dare. We expect that of them, because we ourselves have dreams. Dreams of being something. Dreams of being someone.

That’s why it’s striking that John makes it clear that he’s no one. At least, not anyone special.

I, John, your brother and partner in the tribulation and the kingdom and the patient endurance that are in Jesus, was on the island called Patmos on account of the word of God and the testimony of Jesus. I was in the Spirit on the Lord’s day….” (Revelation 1:9-10)

John calls himself a brother and a partner. He’s a prophet (as we’ll see in a few verses), but not a pope. He’s an apostle, but he doesn’t feel the need to mention it. He doesn’t send his writing to the churches on his own authority. He doesn’t ask anyone to look at him as someone authoritative. He has the Word and the Word is all the authority he needs. He doesn’t list his qualifications. He’s a brother. He’s a partner.

"A brother and a partner."

John is unlike us. We have big names and celebrities in the evangelical world. A young pastor (like yours truly) can find himself distracted by the glamour of the conference circuit or the allure of a book deal. John says no thank you. Call me brother. Call me partner.

And partner in tribulation no less. He has suffered and is suffering with these Christians. He is on the island of Patmos “on account of the word of God and the testimony of Jesus.” He is exiled, far from his church family. The Christian life is one of suffering, one in which those who enjoy the privileges of the kingdom of God often must simultaneously suffer scorn, derision, humiliation and brutality at the hands of the kingdom of this world. John’s audience has suffered. John has suffered. They are partners in tribulation.

John says he was “in the Spirit on the Lord’s day.” The Lord’s day is another way of saying “Sunday,” the first day of the week, the day Christians gather to worship, the day the Lord Jesus rose again from the dead. No amount of tribulation, no amount of inconvenience, no amount of exile or punishment or persecution will prevent John from worshiping the Lord on his day.

In the earliest days of the church, Sunday was a work day. Christians would wake up before dawn to gather together as a people and worship before they had to attend to their everyday work. How would the church look if Sundays were suddenly declared workdays once again? If we all had to report to our place of employment at 9am on Sunday morning, would the church fizzle and die? Or would we think it so important to worship our Lord together as his people that we would be willing to gather at 6am to worship before going about all our earthly responsibilities?

John was removed from society, considered a public enemy, and yet he still sought to be in the Spirit on the Lord’s day. Nothing would stop him worshiping his Lord. Could the same be said of us?

Maybe part of the key is thinking of ourselves as “brothers (and sisters!) and partners.” Maybe we are tempted by the way the world thinks of power and prestige and identity. Maybe we like to think of ourselves, our work, our families, our pastimes, our comfort as in some sense ultimate. Maybe we don’t really think of ourselves as family members of one another in the church. Maybe we don’t really think of ourselves as partners in suffering and the kingdom and perseverance.

John, an apostle and prophet of God himself, humbles himself. Calls himself a brother on the level of every other Christian. Calls himself a partner in everything every other Christian shares. May God humble us before Christ and each other in a similar way.

The Living Room and the Last Day

Behold, he is coming with the clouds, and every eye will see him, even those who pierced him, and all tribes of the earth will wail on account of him. Even so. Amen. “I am the Alpha and the Omega,” says the Lord God, “who is and who was and who is to come, the Almighty.” (Revelation 1:7-8)

Just as the Lord Jesus went into heaven, so he will come again (Acts 1:11), riding the clouds, exalted over all, radiant in glory. No one will be able to ignore him; every eye will see him.

Every eye won’t be able to take itself off him. Even the eyes of those who pierced him. Though they want to hang their heads in shame at what they’ve done, they won’t be able to help but look at him. Jesus made every eye. Even our wandering, disobedient, sin-filled eyes won’t be able to stop themselves staring in wonder at their Maker.

Growing up, we had a living room and a family room. We (the kids) were allowed to play in the family room all we wanted, but we weren’t supposed to go into the living room. That’s where the nice furniture was, the expensive trinkets, the finer things my family owned. My parents saved the living room as a special room to receive guests, a place set apart to give the best sort of hospitality our family had to offer.

Stay out of the living room!

Knowing that my eyes will one day look upon the holiness, majesty, purity of Christ himself makes me want to keep my eyes pure now. I want to set my eyes apart like my parents set the living room apart. I want to look only on those things that are pure and holy, knowing that my eyes will look into His one day, and he will know all that I’ve seen. I want to be able to hold his gaze. I don’t want to want to look away like “those who pierced him” will, whether they’re able to look away or not.

All the tribes of the earth will wail. Weep. Mourn. Why? Because they won’t be able to keep from looking away. Because all their evil, sinful deeds will be laid bare, naked for the Judge to see. Because there is nothing more awful than being full of muck and guilt, but being forced to stare into a holy sun.

All will wail on account of him… except those who are united to him by faith. All but those who have received his grace and peace through his blood (v.4-5). To us it will be granted to rejoice at that Day. So we say, “Even so. Amen.”

But Lord, may we not feel settled in saying so. May your people not look upon your impending judgment as cause for personal happiness and nothing more. May it make us weep even now for our neighbors who face your judgment. May your imminent return lead us to action here and now. May it lead us to invite our neighbors into our lives, to serve others selflessly, to speak your truth humbly and in all boldness. May we be faithful witnesses to your truth, even as you are the faithful witness (v.5). Make us like you, Lord Jesus.

O God, you are the Alpha and Omega, the first and last, the beginning and the end. You are exalted over all. You comprehend all things, but are incomprehensible. You encompass all things, but are unboundable. You surpass all things, but are insurmountable. You are, were, and will be. You are that you are, Yahweh—Father, Son, and Spirit—the only self-existent One. May we live always for your glory, for the joy of seeing you face-to-face.

Explicitly Trinitarian

One of my favorite things about the book of Revelation is the fact that it is one of the most trinitarian books we have in Scripture. Of course, the whole Bible is trinitarian, but I’d bet that none of them has nearly as many overt statements of the fact that our One God is Three Persons. Revelation is explicitly trinitarian.

You can see this right away in the first chapter:

John to the seven churches that are in Asia: Grace to you and peace from him who is and who was and who is to come, and from the seven spirits who are before his throne, and from Jesus Christ the faithful witness, the firstborn of the dead, and the ruler of kings on earth. To him who loves us and has freed us from our sins by his blood and made us a kingdom, priests to his God and Father, to him be glory and dominion forever and ever. Amen. (Revelation 1:4-6)

Reading this led me straight to worship.

Father, your majesty is beyond comprehension. You are the one “who is and who was and who is to come.” You are. Sheer existence, purest life, incomprehensible being. You were. Before all things, Maker of all things, that without which all things are not. You will come. You will outlast all that is, the ultimate Survivor, the last one standing. It is you we will face when this age passes, for it is you who will be when all else fades.

Spirit, you are the fullness of the power of God. You go out from before the Throne in seven-fold splendor (v.4). You are the Completing One: hovering over the waters at creation (Gen. 1:2); hovering over the virgin’s womb (Luke 1:35); bringing our hope to fruition by raising the Lord Jesus from death (Rom. 8:11). When the Father commands our grace and peace, it is you, Spirit, who bring it to our very souls.

Jesus, you are the faithful witness, the martyr that went before all other martyrs. You bore witness to who God is and who you are, and you were murdered for your testimony. Many of your saints through the ages have likewise been murdered. Grant your people faithfulness and boldness to proclaim your gospel no matter the circumstances, that we may take after you and speak your truth. You are the Truth (John 14:6).

Grant us, Lord Jesus, the hope that comes from knowing you are “the firstborn from the dead.” What a promise! If you are the firstborn, how many younger siblings will come after you? O Lord, may I find favor to be among those who will one day be delivered from death’s hold.

And you are the Ruler of the kings of the earth. Whatever earthly powers we face here and now, you are above them, ruling over them. The governments of this world can only do that which you grant them the power to do (John 19:11). You rule heaven and earth and all that is in them. May I seek to follow, please, trust and obey you only.

Yes, Lord, in love you shed your blood to make us your own kingdom, to rule over us in love, and to free us from death and sin and judgment. You sanctified us, dressing us in your righteousness that we should be fit to serve God as priests in your kingdom. This is eternal grace, eternal peace: to know and serve and love and be ruled by you in your earth-shattering mercy. To you be “glory and dominion, forever and ever. Amen.”

This Revelation and That

(Recently, I began studying Revelation in my personal devotions. The times of meditation have been incredibly rich, and I thought others would benefit from taking a closer look at the book with me. I’m taking my sweet time through it. Feel free to take your sweet time through it too.)

The revelation of Jesus Christ, which God gave him to show to his servants the things that must soon take place. He made it known by sending his angel to his servant John, who bore witness to the word of God and to the testimony of Jesus Christ, even to all that he saw. Blessed is the one who reads aloud the words of this prophecy, and blessed are those who hear, and who keep what is written in it, for the time is near. (Revelation 1:1-3)

The things revealed in this book are things which we could not know had they not been written down. What is uncovered in the book of Revelation (that is what “Revelation” means: un-covering, un-hiding things that have long been hidden) is ”knowledge” that “is too wonderful for me” (Psalm 139:6). We cannot attain it by examination, meditation, sublimation, or education—unless, of course, that education comes from God the Father, through Jesus Christ, to us. And that is precisely what we have here: “The revelation of Jesus Christ, which God gave him to show to his servants” (v.1).

God tells secrets differently than we do. When we tell someone a secret, we lower our voice. Look down a little. Lean in. Make others swear they won’t repeat what they hear.

You won't tell anyone, right?

The way God tells his secrets shows the profound difference between him and us. There are earthquakes, thunders, scrolls, multitudes proclaiming, angels shouting and singing, messengers falling down as though dead. Revelation is not a human secret whispered in the corner of a dark room. It is a divine secret unveiled for all to see so that we may “keep what is written in it” (v.3).

And “what is written in it” can be encapsulated in two words: “Jesus Christ.”

The first three words in the Greek are: “Revelation Jesus Christ.” What is revealed in Revelation is Christ! John makes no bones about it. He makes sure we can’t miss it. If ever there was a Christ-centered book, it is the book of Revelation.

So we should look to “keep what is written in it” because, John says, “the time is near.” The time for what? For the final unveiling of Jesus Christ. Christ was revealed first as a little baby in a manger. Then as the Son of God who came back to life in power. And one day he will be revealed as the King and Judge of all.

This book is the Revelation of Jesus Christ, but when the time comes, Christ—whose eyes are “like a flame of fire” (1:14)—will reveal us. Our hearts, our deeds will be unveiled, un-hidden before him. This Revelation is meant to prepare us for that revelation. “Blessed are those… who keep what is written” (v.3).

Wake Up

“I will awake the dawn!” (Psalm 108:2).

I’ve lived in cities most of my adult life. I spent almost all my 20s in urban environments. The three years I wasn’t in a city during that decade, I was pursuing a degree of some kind. I suppose you could say the only thing I like better than living in the city is studying. I am nerdy.

The interesting thing about spending your 20s in the city is that there are a whole lot of other people who are also in their 20s. Our urban centers have sort of become magnificent dormitories for the young professional class. Significantly more diverse dormitories, mind you, but dormitories nonetheless. And, as anyone who’s ever lived in a college dorm can tell you, no one ever wakes up early.

Cities: glorified dorm life.

Until recently, you could include me in the “never wakes up early” class. But I realized recently that there are some things in life worth waking up early for. My zip code notwithstanding, more days than not I can say with the psalmist, “I will awake the dawn.”

I used to worry that if I woke up before the sun, I’d be a zombie by lunchtime. But the thing is, I’ve been motivated to wake up early. Though I keep it a little quieter than the psalmist (no harps or lyres at a quarter to six), my motivation has been the same as the psalmist’s: I’ve wanted to get up to praise and worship and pray to and commune with the Lord.

From the extent of God’s love and faithfulness (v.4), to the promises and triumphant power of the Lord (v.7-9), to simple pleas for help in the midst of weakness (v.12), the psalmist is up and at ‘em and meditating on the goodness and love of his Maker.

Eugene Peterson reflects on this psalm in his memoir, “The Pastor.” I find the questions he asked himself while meditating on it helpful: “I had my eyes open; I was going through the motions of my work. But was I God-awake? Was my soul awake?”

No matter the time of day, we should ask ourselves, “is my soul awake?” So many people walk through this life dull and sleepy to the invigorating truth of who God is and what he’s done in Christ. The gospel should be more than enough to wake us up to the grace and love and forgiveness and help and communion and glorious union with Jesus we have by faith. Whether you wake up early or not.

The Gospel and The Law

Most likely you’ve heard that song before. It was probably on a playground, probably to make fun of someone (or be made fun of yourself).

But there is quite a bit of truth inherent to the song. There is an order to all things in life, including love and romance and family. “First comes love, THEN comes marriage.” If either of these come out of order, there are challenges, difficulties, stress, and potential brokenness that await the couple. Marrying someone you don’t love is a recipe for disaster.

In the same way, when God gives his law to his people, he doesn’t begin with the law. God wants only good things for his children, and he is sure to communicate his law to them in the proper order. For God’s people, for Christians, we don’t begin with law as if we could work our way to God. No, Christians begin with the gospel. And so does God.

“I am the LORD your God who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of slavery” (Exodus 20:2).

The Puritan writer, Thomas Watson, explains, ”This, though a preface to the law, is pure gospel. The [Hebrew] word Eloeha, ‘thy God’ is so sweet, that we can never suck all the honey out of it.”

The word “gospel” means “good news.” Gospel is something wonderful that is true, an announcement about something real in history that doesn’t change no matter what we do.

Mmm… gospel.

What Watson means here is that God begins by telling Israel something wonderful, by telling them good news, gospel. Before He gives the law, God tells Israel that He belongs to them. God made everything, owns everything, rules everything. Every last good thing in this world that you and I enjoy was his creation. God is  creative, loving, glorious, gracious.

And before telling us what to do, He tells us that He is ours. He belongs to us. He starts the Ten Commandments, not with a threat, but with a promise: “I am YOUR God.”

Why Christians Need the Law

Have you ever thought you’d need to be taught to love another person? Most of the time, we think of love as a thing that “happens” to us, something we fall into, a natural response to someone in our lives who deserves it. There is a sense in which we can speak of love as a feeling, but love is far more than a feeling. And expressing that love is not something we are born able to do, at least not well.

If you’ve ever seen a one-year old child trying to give her father a kiss, you know what I mean. Toddler kisses often come with wide open mouth, wet and slobbery, trying to emulate what mom and dad do, but failing miserably in a saliva-filled mess. Of course, mom and dad don’t mind; their child is still learning, still being taught to love and express love appropriately.

But, say that mom and dad never taught their child to kiss properly. The sixteen year-old sophomore still approaches dad’s cheek with mouth wide-open. There is something horribly wrong with the idea. If parents never taught their children to express affection appropriately, their children would find themselves in real trouble throughout their lives. They would be ill-equipped to take what life threw at them.

The same is true of the Christian life. We have to learn how to love God and love others in the right way. J.I. Packer writes, “To want to love someone Christianly does not of itself tell you how to do it. Only as we observe the limits set by God’s law can we really do people good.”

Often, we think of God’s commandments as restrictions on our freedom. We don’t like the idea of rules that tell us how we have to live. We naturally want to do what we want, determine right and wrong for ourselves.

But obeying God’s law is not about restriction, it is about love. As Jesus said in John 14:15, “If you love me, you will keep my commandments.” We obey God’s commandments out of love for him, and what he’s done for us in Christ.

We need the law, for the law teaches us to love.

What happened to February?

This has been a rather eventful season in my life. We are walking through a time of prayer, planning and preparation with the folks at Christ Church for a church plant in the East Bay.  I have felt God’s call to the East Bay for quite a while now, and it seems that in recent months he has begun opening doors in significant ways. We are excited to see what is next for our family and our church. (If you’d like to hear a bit more about the plant and why we feel it is God’s call to us as a church, you can listen to this message I gave this past Sunday at Christ Church.)

At the same time, I am working on writing a curriculum on the Ten Commandments for one of my other jobs, and whatever creative juices I have have been generally flowing that direction. I’ve had the opportunity to spend significant time studying, meditating on, and explaining God’s Law. It’s been wonderful, and has helped me understand why David could say, “My soul is consumed with longing for your rules at all times…. Your testimonies are my delight; they are my counselors” (Psalm 119:20, 24).

But all this has left little time for blogging. Sorry.

What I thought I’d do is post periodically from my gleanings on the Ten Commandments (since I’m already working it!), and hopefully pick back up in the Psalms soon. Hooray for the Law!