Blog Archives
Jesus changes everyone (Mark 4:1–20)
As every preacher knows, there isn’t a person alive who doesn’t like a good story. Being able to tell an anecdote or a personal experience is a great way to illustrate God’s truth in a way that everyone can understand. Of course, you’ll have the occasional speaker who will get so caught up in telling a story that he becomes lost in the wilderness of his own imagination. But any preacher worth his salt will do his best to avoid that mistake; he wants his stories to reveal truth, not hinder it.
Once again, Jesus isn’t just any preacher. We typically think that he tells parables so that people will understand truth. That’s not the reason that he gives, though.
We saw a “sandwich story” the last time we looked at Mark, and now we’re seeing one again. We find Jesus beside the sea again, and this time he hops in a boat right away so the crowds don’t crush him. Then he tells them a bunch of parables, which are short fictional stories that illustrate a truth about God and his kingdom. One parable in particular stands out: a farmer sows seed on four different kinds of soil—a footpath, rocky ground, a thorn patch, and rich soil. The seed only produces grain in the rich soil, but this soil is so good that it yields an absurd amount of grain. So all of that is the upper slice of bread in the “sandwich.”
Then comes the meat between the bread. Jesus’ followers approach him, asking him to explain why he’s teaching in parables, and he gives a rather surprising reason. “To you has been given the secret of the kingdom of God,” he says, “but for those outside everything is in parables.” In other words, Jesus knows something very important about the kingdom which God is going to set up, but he won’t tell it to just anyone. It’s only for his disciples to know. The reason Jesus speaks in parables isn’t to reveal the truth about the kingdom to “those outside”—it’s to hide the truth about the kingdom from them. Jesus’ disciples are the insiders, and he will explain the truth to them, but he won’t tell it to anyone else.
Why not? What reason could Jesus possibly have for keeping God’s kingdom a secret? He reaches back to the Old Testament and adapts a famous stanza from Isaiah 6:9–10. He is hiding this knowledge from outsiders so that “they may indeed see but not perceive, and may indeed hear but not understand, lest they should turn and be forgiven.”
Does that bother you? It bothers me. But I suppose I should ask a more important question: is this the Jesus you think you know? Does he have the right to say, “There is a certain group of people whom I will hide the truth from so that they won’t repent and be forgiven”? That’s the Jesus whom you and I are facing in this story. That’s what Jesus is like in real life.
So now we are left to ask, “Who are these ‘outsiders’? Why is Jesus holding back the truth that would cause them to repent?” So far in Mark’s gospel, we’ve seen Jesus reject the religious leaders because they have hardened their hearts against him. We’ve seen him reject his own family because they refuse to be with him and imitate him, which is what his disciples do. And now, he’s going to add new groups to the ever-expanding circle of “outsiders.”
The meat of Mark’s “sandwich” has given us the clue we need to understand what comes next. And what comes next (the lower slice of bread) is Jesus’ explanation of the parable of the four soils. Jesus says to his followers, “Do you not understand this parable? How then will you understand all the parables?” In other words, this is a special parable because it’s actually a parable about parables—a metaparable, if you will. The seed represents “the word”—Jesus’ good news about the coming kingdom, which he tells in the form of parables. The first soil, the hardened footpath, represents those who are hard-hearted, like the religious leaders. The word doesn’t get in at all but lies dead on the surface, where Satan plucks it away. These outsiders won’t even consider what Jesus has to say. The second soil, the rocky ground, represents those who respond to the word with joy, but have only a shallow commitment. When tough times come, these outsiders fall away, because deep down they don’t really get it. The third soil, the thorn patch, represents those who have other dreams and desires besides the kingdom. These outsiders are distracted by a love of money or possessions or entertainment or anything else the world can offer. All these desires choke out their supposed love for God because they don’t really understand Jesus’ message, either.
Finally, Jesus tells us about the good, rich soil. When the seed falls here, it produces a ridiculous bumper crop. A hundredfold yield was unheard of in Jesus’ day; this soil is unbelievably rich. This soil represents the insiders, Jesus’ true disciples. You can tell them apart from the outsiders because they “bear fruit.” This is because they have been given “the secret of the kingdom of God.”
What we’ve just read is a sobering message with so many implications that you and I couldn’t possibly sort through them all in the space of a single blog post. We know now that many people in the church will look like insiders but are actually outsiders who don’t understand the gospel. We know now that it’s an enduring faith, not a flash-in-the-pan spiritual experience, that marks a true disciple. We know now that many professing Christians are under the judgment of God, who blinds idol worshipers who turn to something or someone other than God for ultimate security (see Psalm 115:8).
Above all, we see that Jesus’ message changes everyone, because Jesus is a polarizing figure. Some people he transforms into his disciples. Other people he hardens into his opponents. His message has already changed you. Are you an insider or an outsider?
The King appears (Mark 1:14–15)
I just checked to make sure, and it turns out that there has never been a President from West Virginia. By saying that, I probably didn’t shock anyone. West Virginia is one of the states in the Union that has a reputation—deserving or not—for being a backwater region. If it’s political power you’re looking for, you travel to Washington, D.C.; if it’s economic success, you go to New York City; if it’s cultural clout, you make your way to Hollywood. You don’t go to West Virginia.
Not unless you’re trying to pull a Jesus.
Jesus doesn’t begin his earthly ministry in an advantageous place. “Now after John was arrested,” Mark relates, “Jesus came into Galilee, proclaiming the gospel of God” (1:14). Galilee was sort of the West Virginia of Jesus’ day. If you were a Jew, and you wanted to make something of yourself, you didn’t go to Galilee; you went to Jerusalem. To the Jews, Jerusalem was New York City, Hollywood, and Washington, D.C. all rolled up into one. It was the political, cultural, economic, and religious capital of Judea. That’s where people would have been looking for a Messiah—not in Galilee. (Though they should have been.)
So, right from the outset, we see that Jesus is rather unconventional. He’s not what the Jews are looking for in a divinely anointed king. In fact, he’s not what anyone is looking for in a king. It’s horribly disconcerting when our expectations are set on a Savior whose first public move is to reject those expectations. Jesus is an unconventional man with an unconventional message, summarized by these words: “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God is at hand; repent and believe in the gospel” (v 15).
Just like John, Jesus calls everyone to repent—to reject the old way of thinking and living and to accept the new kingdom that is about to break into the world. When he says, “The time is fulfilled,” he’s declaring that his arrival is the fulfillment of history. All of human history has been building to this point; it all has meaning, and that meaning is found in Jesus. Each and every event, no matter how small, has driven the world toward the arrival of this man. Century by century and minute by minute, his appearance has been orchestrated by the Lord of history. Yes, every moment of our lives is infused with careful intent by our Creator, as we wait for the full glory of his kingdom to appear. Even now, everything finds its purpose in Jesus (Romans 11:36).
Jesus declares that a paradigm shift is about to take place, and the world will never be the same; God’s kingdom has drawn near. But what is this kingdom? Who is its king? Certainly, the Jews of Jesus’ day have expectations that the Messiah would drive out the Roman empire and set up a new Jewish kingdom, following in the footsteps of David his ancestor. Perhaps the unconventional arrival of this Galilean preacher is the first clue that God may have different plans. The Jews are right in believing that the Messiah will be their king, but how can this man be their king? Is this how God has chosen to intervene when his people are suffering? Jesus seems to think so—he believes that his appearance has brought God’s new kingdom near. The whole world order is about to be turned upside down; the old kingdom is about to wither away. Things are about to change—fast—and Jesus presents his audience with a choice. Either keep living like you’ve always lived, or change your life immediately in response to this new reality! Jesus isn’t concerned whether his gospel is relevant to his listeners; he pleads for his listeners to be relevant to his gospel.
This question of relevance is one you will have to face today. God’s kingdom has not fully arrived yet, but his triumph is inevitable. For far too long, we have focused ourselves on understanding and manipulating and growing comfortable in the way our society works. We have looked for success as defined by American values and ideals; we have placed our hope in our self-invented dreams and ambitions; we have knotted ourselves into the fabric of the American culture. But all of this will be swept away when the new kingdom is fully and finally established. This is bad news for those who cling to the old kingdom, and the greatest news possible for those who have let it go. All of history is bent toward its King, and when he appears, he will sweep away every illusion of control that we cling to. Jesus is not conventional, and he loves his people too much to befriend their conventional ambitions.
Shoot-’em-up apologetics
From now on, I am making a commitment not to write, “I will blog on such and such this week,” because I never actually follow through with it. So…a week late, I have a few thoughts on a recent apologetics event held at Purdue.
First, I thought the speaker—Greg Koukl from Stand to Reason—did a good job overall presenting “Three Bad Arguments Against Religion.” He was articulate, humorous, and polite toward his audience while still maintaining a firm grasp on the truth. He began with his half-hour talk detailing the three bad arguments and followed it with a Q&A in which students brought their questions to him and he answered them. I’ve followed Stand to Reason for years, and I always enjoy reading their mailings. They are an excellent resource for Christian thought.
Second, I was disappointed by the atmosphere of the event, particularly during the Q&A. Koukl himself was fine, but the (mostly Christian) audience seemed to hold a derisive attitude toward the atheists asking questions. Admittedly, most of the questioners seemed to be parroting arguments they had heard but didn’t really understand themselves. And admittedly, many of these questioners kept trying to debate with the speaker. However, this didn’t excuse the murmurs, snickers, and even a cry of “bullcrap!” from the audience. The tone was combative; it felt like the Christians perceived Koukl as their hired gun who had come to shoot up all the atheists. How unfortunate for those whose speech is supposed to be “gracious, seasoned with salt” (Colossians 4:5). The goal should never be to beat up atheists but to present the gospel to them in word and deed.
Third, I’m debating the value in such an event. Koukl himself ended his talk with the point that atheists hide behind bad arguments because they don’t want to face God and his moral law. This is absolutely true (Romans 1:18-23). However, I’m concerned that by trying to shoot down these bad arguments, we may end up playing a game of Whack-a-Mole, in which we knock out one argument only to be faced with another and then another and then another. (And by the way, this only works if you’re smarter than the atheist. If not, you’re probably screwed.) I’ve had this experience with an atheist friend of mine who would always respond to my answers with “just one more question.” If it is true that “no one understands; no one seeks for God” (Romans 3:11), then it won’t be logical arguments that turn people to Christ.
Our weapons are often too weak. Trying to argue someone into becoming a Christian is like using a toy gun; it is no match for a mind that is “hostile to God” (Romans 8:7) and won’t submit to him. Even if I were to destroy all of an unbeliever’s arguments, I’d be naive to think that he would have no choice but to believe. Even someone rising from the dead won’t convince someone of what he doesn’t want to believe (Luke 16:31).
Here’s what we can do: present the gospel simply and clearly, drawing our authority from the only potent weapon that we’ve been given—the Word of God accompanied by the power of the Spirit of God (Ephesians 6:17). Treat others with grace, love, and respect. Listen carefully to their objections and arguments. Demonstrate that we’ve thought through these tough issues, thereby showing reasonable, sensible character. If we are faced with a challenge that we don’t know how to answer, admit it and promise to look into it (and then do it!). In other words, “walk in wisdom toward outsiders, making the best use of the time” (Colossians 4:5). That’s how we become wise and attractive ambassadors for Christ to a world that sees so little of his goodness in those who profess to follow him.
Were you at the event? I’d like to hear your perspective on it in the comments below!
Ramblings on Calvinism
So…
It’s been a nice day outside, and I’m sitting out on the back deck watching robins hop along the roof of the house across the yard from me. I thought this would be a good place to bring all my thoughts together as I wait for a pot pie to cook in the microwave.
Lately, I’ve had a lot on my mind when it comes to the doctrines of grace. I grew up firmly convinced that people were able to come to God on their own for salvation. I guess I believed this by default; I found out, when challenged, that the Bible teaches the opposite. I fought tooth and nail against Romans 9 before grudgingly admitting that maybe God knows what He’s doing better than I do. And finally, the doctrines I once despised ended up becoming precious to me.
Why is God’s complete sovereignty in salvation so important to me? I think a lot of it has to do with boredom. Frankly, I was used to a boring god who needs pizazz and clever marketing campaigns to sucker people into church. That god is almost impossible for me to worship. Happily, I don’t have to, because he’s not real. The true God is fearsome and awe-inspiring, and He’s a lot easier to worship. That’s the kind of God that appears in Calvinistic doctrine, and this doctrine resonates with me because I crave a God whom I can fear. I can’t love a God that I don’t fear.
The thing is, I assent to all of the vaunted “five points” of Calvinism, but I don’t think I’ve really learned to think like a Calvinist. It’s easy to give intellectual assent to a point of doctrine, but it’s much harder to let it soak into your soul so that it becomes the lens through which you view the world. For too long, I’ve allowed this theology to be a collection of beliefs tacked on top of a worldview which doesn’t really differ much from the culture around me. This new-wine-in-old-wineskins tension tears me up inside. It doesn’t work. I need to start thinking like a Calvinist.
And in a sense, just about every genuine Christian does already…at least in our prayers. Any Christian worth his salt has prayed for the salvation of those who have not yet believed in Jesus Christ. “Father, please save my friend Harvey.” When a Calvinist prays these words, it’s very clear what he means; he is asking God to draw Harvey to Himself with irresistible grace, to open the man’s eyes so he will certainly and gladly choose to follow Christ. When an Arminian prays these words, I’m not exactly sure what he’s asking God to do. If the final say on Harvey’s salvation rests on Harvey, well…this is a useless prayer because God’s hands are tied. Let’s face it—Calvinist prayers are much better than Arminian prayers.
Aside from praying, though, I don’t really think like a Calvinist. This is especially true when it comes to evangelism. I’ve heard it said that we should hold to Calvinist doctrine but evangelize like Arminians. I think that’s what I’ve been doing, and it doesn’t really work. When I’ve shared the gospel with people, they usually haven’t responded much at all. I get discouraged about it; the Word of God no longer seems “living and active” (Hebrews 4:12). I just can’t seem to get it into my head that God can save anyone He wants. If someone is His elect, he or she will be saved—period. If I could only start thinking like that, I would be much bolder in sharing the gospel with others because God could save any person if He so chooses. George Whitefield, one of the greatest evangelists of all time, remarked that “this makes me to preach with comfort, because I know salvation does not depend on man’s free will, but the Lord makes willing in the day of his power, and can make use of me to bring some of his elect home, when and where he pleases.”
One truth that is sinking into me is the depravity of the human heart. Sin that I never even used to notice bothers me a lot now. I wasted most of my Saturday watching endless TV like a lazy slob instead of spending time with the Lord and getting work done. A couple of years ago, that would have been par for the course; now, I feel awful when I sin like that. In fact, I feel like a much more wicked person overall than I was a few years back. Everyone tells me that the opposite is true, but when all the hidden filth of the heart—what John Owen called “a standing sink of abominations”—is exposed by a growing knowledge of God’s will…well, the feeling isn’t good. But it is a good feeling to have because it’s the truth.
Unfortunately, I just don’t get the love of God. I tend to think He’s like me, only better—He’s got a longer fuse, but eventually His love will run out and then I’m on my own. So it’s refreshing to read in the Bible that God is more than a cosmic superman. While preparing to teach ABF on Sunday morning (which I should have done on Saturday), I read 1 Samuel 12:22: “For the Lord will not forsake his people, for his great name’s sake, because it has pleased the Lord to make you a people for himself.” That was an instant pick-me-up, because all of a sudden I remembered that God didn’t choose and love His people because they’re more intelligent or skilled or more righteous. He didn’t elect me for salvation because He saw a spark of potential in me that wasn’t in someone else. No! God’s reasons for choosing us are His alone to know; all we know is that it brings Him glory. In his commentary on this verse, Matthew Henry observed that “the fixedness of God’s choice is owing to the freeness of it.” God chose me freely, not based on something in me. Thus, He will not abandon me simply because I’m a screw-up and a sinner.
God’s unconditional election of me is really good news.
So that’s all I have to say for now. My pot pie is getting cold. I guess if you want this put into better words than I can write, listen to the hymn “The Love of Christ is Rich and Free” by William Gadsby. You can find it on Sandra McCracken’s hymns album The Builder and the Architect (or listen free on its website). It’s a beautiful song praising God’s unconditional love.
(P.S. You should really buy The Builder and the Architect because it’s incredibly good.)
Bearing fruit and growing
Colossians 1:5-6
5 …Of this you have heard before in the word of truth, the gospel, 6 which has come to you, as indeed in the whole world it is bearing fruit and growing—as it also does among you, since the day you heard it and understood the grace of God in truth.Colossians 1:9-10
9 And so, from the day we heard, we have not ceased to pray for you, asking that you may be filled with the knowledge of his will in all spiritual wisdom and understanding, 10 so as to walk in a manner worthy of the Lord, fully pleasing to him, bearing fruit in every good work and increasing in the knowledge of God.
The phrases “bearing fruit and growing” in v. 6 and “bearing fruit…and increasing” in v. 10 are actually the same words in Greek. The gospel, by its very nature, produces results on both a worldwide and an individual level.
The analogy here is that the gospel is like a tree. It grows as the worldwide church increases in number and as each Christian increases in the knowledge of God. It bears fruit as each believer devotes himself to doing good works for the glory of God, and as the church is united in doing good for the sake of Jesus Christ.
The gospel is a seed that, when planted in a fertile heart, grows into something great. May God soften our hearts and cause us to grow in knowledge and bear fruit for His kingdom.
