Showing posts with label heroes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label heroes. Show all posts

Monday, October 30, 2017

What the 500th Anniversary of the Reformation Means for Christian Families


Tomorrow, October 31, people throughout the world will mark the 500th Anniversary of the Protestant Reformation. Although the seeds of the Reformation were planted long before, 1517 was when its green shoot popped up from the darkness of the medieval sod. Martin Luther’s nailing of his Ninety-Five Theses on the door of the chapel at the University of Wittenberg ignited the figurative underbrush of Europe, a spiritual forest parched of Living Water for centuries.

Dr. Luther’s Theses blasted away at abuses arising from the practice of selling indulgences, documents for purchase which certified forgiveness of particular sins. “Any true Christian…participates in all the blessings of Christ and the church; and this is granted him by God, even without indulgences letters,” proffered Luther. “Injury is done to the Word of God when, in the same sermon, an equal or larger amount of time is devoted to indulgences than to the Word.” Thesis No. 62 summarized best what Luther had personally discovered: “The true treasure of the church is the most holy gospel of the glory and grace of God.” These truths were sweet rain to a spiritually thirsty culture.

Still, 500 years later, it may seem a little strange that so much fuss is made about a German monk’s heady mumbo-jumbo discussing teachings that have long since been tossed alongside the theological wagon trail. What does anything Luther did five centuries ago have to do with anything we experience as Christian families today? Well, nothing…unless these kinds of questions ever come up in your day-to-day conversations with your children:

Does God love me? How can I know?

What do I have to do to please God? Does He still love me when I sin?

How do I go to heaven? Will I go to hell if I’m not good enough?

How can I know God? Does God know me? Does He even care?

Christian parents in 2017 can answer these questions clearly, confidently and definitively. But most Christian parents in 1517 couldn’t. Put yourselves in their shoes for a moment. In answer to your children’s spiritual questions, you point them to God the Judge, a Deity that demands their perfection to earn His approval. To give your children some solace in light of this bleak outlook, you teach them to ask help from Mary or the saints, since they can identify with the plight of humanity, more than the ascended Christ.

There is no “Jesus Loves Me This I Know” or “God is so Good” to sing with your young ones. There is no Bible to read, let alone to teach, to your children. Spiritual life consists of the mysteries of the Mass, a worship service conducted in a language neither you nor your children understand. There is no such thing as “Bible Study” or “Sunday School.” Your personal and familial devotional life is reduced to static rosaries, icons and shrines. And worst of all, the genuine spiritual concerns you have for yourself and for your children are cleverly exploited, not compassionately addressed, by a corrupt religious infrastructure. Indulgences are peddled like Girl Scout cookies, and relics are displayed with all the novelty of a “Ripely’s Believe It or Not!”

The Reformation changed that reality into our reality, the Christian home of the 21st century. The Bible is easily accessible (literally at our fingertips!) for family and personal devotions, as well as in corporate worship (where it is expounded for practical application). The Gospel can be clearly articulated, understood and believed. Our children can know that God loves them, and they can know God through a personal relationship with Jesus Christ. They can know that God’s love is unmerited and lavishly given. They can know that their Intercessor isn’t Mary or some other fallible saint,” but the God-Man Christ Jesus, who can “sympathize with [their] weakness,” and who makes it possible for them to “come boldly to the throne of grace...” (Hebrews 4:15-16). Their devotional life is limitless, guided by the Holy Spirit through the “living and powerful” word of God (Hebrews 4:12). And even though  corrupt religious charlatans may still peddle their wares, your children need never be deceived—they can give each teaching the Berean Test, searching the Scriptures to see “whether these things [are] so” (Acts 17:10-11).

So yes, Luther’s 16th century Halloween Facebook post, and the viral world-wide fallout that followed, is incredibly relevant to today’s Christian family. Without it, most of the tools of discipleship that we take for granted today, including translations of the Bible in the layman’s vernacular, would simply not exist.

The question for us is whether or not we in the Western church will continue what Luther started. The world we live in is not so much different from the world of 16th century Europe. Natural disasters, the threat of radical Islam, political intrigue, societal unrest, and Biblical illiteracy are as real now as they were in Luther’s time. But the difference is that we have the equipment to engage the culture in ways that the Reformers never did. What we lack is their fortitude and their zeal. Despite the abundance of tools at our disposal, far too few Christian families are seriously discipling their children. The rediscovery of the truths of the Gospel created energetic conviction in the Reformers. Unfortunately, our overfamiliarity with them has bred a type of careless contempt, demonstrated by just how easily we back down from those truths in our culture today.

The kind of conviction Luther and the other Reformers possessed isn’t easily blown away by the winds of adversity, but it also isn’t formulated in a bed of roses. As recent Luther biographer, Eric Metaxas, has observed, it was Luther’s own relentless pursuit of the Gospel that made him so indomitable. Pressed by his own despair at the inadequacy of himself to satisfy the just demands of a holy God, he finally found the peace he craved in the promises of God. And with those promises he was ready to withstand the onslaught of the world, the flesh, and the devil. “My conscience is captive to the Word of God,” declared Luther at the Diet of Worms. “Thus I cannot and will not recant, because acting against one's conscience is neither safe nor sound.”

And so, the 500th Anniversary of the Reformation is both a celebration for the Christian family, but it is also a charge. Our homes are where the legacy of the Reformation must daily continue. It’s time to experience with our children the same joy as Luther did at the treasure of the Gospel. Luther observed that parents “can do no better work and do nothing more valuable either for God, for Christendom, for all the world, for themselves, and for their children than to bring up their children well.” No doubt, for Luther, bringing up children “well” is to disciple them in the Gospel, and to teach them to make their own consciences “captive to the Word of God.”

Armed with those spiritual weapons, our children may just turn the world upside down for Jesus—just like Martin Luther.

Photo by chop1n in creative commons 

Monday, August 15, 2016

He Must Increase

One of my thorns in the flesh is ambition. And by ambition, I don’t mean motivation, goal-setting, or drive. All of those have positive aspects which help a person accomplish God’s good work and purpose in his life. By ambition, I mean a constant desire, subtle though it may be, for recognition, advancement and memorialization. Granted, my ambition has always been tied to good things: righteous causes, meaningful  work, and important relationships. But frequently, if I don’t receive recognition, if I don’t advance, and if I don’t have the sense that I’ll be remembered, then the cause seems less worth the effort, the work bitters, and the relationship disappoints. And that can make me a basket case.

The antidote to my thorn is the truth of God’s Word. Ephesians 2:10 tells me that I’ve been created for “good work,” ordained by God Himself. That truth alone puts things in perspective: my life isn’t about figuring out how to get the kudos of men, how to advance my career, or how to make it into the history books. It’s about faithfully doing the good work I’ve been given by God, even as He completes the good work He has begun in me (Phil. 1:6). The Bible also tells me that God’s good work for His children isn’t all in the limelight. 2 Timothy 2:20 (NIV) says that  in God’s “house,” some of us will be “articles…for special purposes”(i.e. fine china) and some of us will be “articles…for common use” (i.e. the Tupperware that holds the left-over sauerkraut), but each of us has a purpose, a necessary purpose in the Master’s mansion . Matthew 5:20 reminds me that my good works are to bring glory to God, not me, when they are observed by others.

But even though I know these truths, my thorn of ambition still gets under my skin. Maybe that’s why I’ve always been so drawn to the guy that Jesus said was the greatest person ever born:  John the Baptist. (Matt. 11:11) If there was anyone who had a right to revel just a little in their life purpose, it was John. With a miraculous birth and divine calling, John the Baptist became the single greatest preacher of his era, perhaps of any era. Crowds went into the Judean desert to hear his powerful sermons. His followers transcended racial and socioeconomic barriers. He showed no fear of upsetting the apple carts of the political and religious establishments. And his popularity was so great among the people that even after his death, the religious elite couldn’t openly question that John’s ministry wasn’t ordained by God. (Matt. 21:25-27) Add baptizing the Christ, and being the “voice in the wilderness” preparing the way for the Messiah, and you’ve got a resume that’s pretty hard to beat.

With that kind of pedigree, purpose and popularity, John might have struggled with his ego, but if he did, he resoundingly put it in its place. As Jesus’ ministry launched and more and more people switched to following the Galilean Carpenter, John didn’t bemoan the loss: he welcomed it. As Christ’s forerunner, John pointed people to Jesus from the very beginning. He didn’t stop as the crowds diminished. When his own ministry faded, John explained that this was how it was supposed to work. “A man can receive nothing unless it has been given to him from heaven,” John explained to his followers. “You yourselves bear me witness, that I said, ‘I am not the Christ,’ but ‘I have been sent before Him’…Therefore this joy of mine is fulfilled. He must increase and I must decrease.”  (John 3:27-30) John’s words sum up the believer’s best ambition: to point others to Christ. And if the greatest prophet of all time learned to make that his ambition, maybe I can too.
 
So, to my thorn of ambition, I say “no matter where I am, or what I am doing, no matter if I win an award or my name is never etched in monumental stone, if my faithfulness in my God-given good work causes someone to see Jesus, than that is enough.”  Remarkably, that makes the prick of my thorn a lot less bothersome. If it’s pricking you too, I’d recommend John the Baptist’s cure.