... Just a devotional thought of encouragement I wanted to share with the beloved [inspired by reading from The Cup and the Glory by Greg Harris].
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"But Jesus said to them, 'You do not know what you are asking. Are you able to drink the cup that I drink, or to be baptized with the baptism with which I am baptized?'" - Mark 10:38
The backdrop of this verse stems from the infamous request of James and John to sit on the right and left in the glory of King Jesus. It should be noted that Christ had just finished explaining His inevitable death and suffering on the cross, along with the sufferings leading up to that moment (10:33-34). The first impulse our minds trigger upon reading this sequential narrative, is an attitude of contempt toward James and John. It is not above us to perhaps categorize James and John as selfish. As verse 41 says, we could probably admit our feeling of indignation toward James and John, just as the ten felt toward them. It's as though James and John were in the wrong for such a lofty request. After all Christ had done - all the miracles, His teaching, the displaying of His glory - how dare James and John even think about asking this, right?
Upon further examination, however, what is the true nature of this request? The dangers of serving the god of earthly possessions had already been exposed in 10:17-30 from Christ's meeting with the rich young ruler. There is unarguably the grave potential of literally having "stuff" separate you from God as seen in this account, and the rich young ruler proved it. It's not as though James and John asked for earthly "stuff" from Christ [like we so often do]. On quite the contrary, James and John recognized the importance of the nearness of God, and thus their request was to sit at the right and left of Christ in His glory. They understood the importance of having an eternal relationship with Christ. If we could possibly fault James and John in this portion of scripture, we might possibly question their motive for the request (i.e. self-glory), but there isn't conclusive evidence to make such a jump. This is most certainly a commendable request from James and John, and it is one Christians should aspire to ask but so often don't. Our requests to God often consist of fleeting vanity, complimented by some vague, shallow desire to "get closer to God." We have higher aspirations of "achieving our life's purpose with God's help" than genuinely serving the risen Savior, even at the cost of self-denial.
Nevertheless, it wasn't so much the content of James and John that was the issue, but the worthiness and preparedness of receiving the content, itself. Upon Greg Harris' giftedness in explaining his insights is when I had the Eureka! moment, reading and understanding the response of Christ:
"You do not know what you are asking. Are you able to drink the cup that I drink, or to be baptized with the baptism with which I am baptized?"
If you want the prize, you must run the race. If the prize is the relationship with God Himself; if we've realized that nothing else in this world would fill the gaping hole left in our souls as a result of the fall; if we've realized that Christ is all-sufficient for our eternal needs, and is the only mediator and high priest worthy enough for the position, then there is no doubt that we should desire a growing in our relationship. Here's the problem though: we realize the prize, but not the race. What is the race? The cup is the race! And here is what the cup is:
"My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from Me; yet not as I will, but as You will." - Matthew 26:39
(And again, Christ would desire this two more times in 26:42 and 26:44.)
What's most humbling is that Christ, in his humanity and yet God, would desire not to go through the imminent, gruesome suffering He would shortly face. It's not as though Jesus "suffered painlessly" (if that's even possible). The emotional and physical pain did not deter the perfect Son from being obedient to the Father to the point of death, even death on a cross. Christ was pushed to the absolute verge of the cup He had to drink because He and the Father loved us sinners so much. In John 17:3 Christ says, "This is eternal life, that they may know You, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom You have sent." If this is the definition of eternal life, then why request anything else from our gracious Father? Yet to receive this, we must realize the cup of suffering God has prepared for us.
What is this cup in our lives? The author provides several examples of what the cup can be. He challenges us in writing:
Are you able to drink the cup Jesus drank?
- The cup of not living by the world's standards of success.
- The cup of walking by faith even in the darkest dark.
- The cup of evaluating your own life by God's Word and His Holiness rather than your own perceived goodness.
...among others...
I'd also like to add the cup of suffering in the flesh, so that we may not sin (1 Peter 4:1-2).
The irony of this whole process is we tend to acknowledge our walk with God during the high points in life, not in suffering. But it is in the suffering where the greatest strides are made. There are plenty of stories where the cup God has given have been so significant, that the suffering would almost cause the individual to doubt the presence of God. The author states this in the form of a series of questions: "How long are you able to walk with God through suffering, sorrow, repeatedly unanswered prayers, hopelessness, and spiritual darkness?...Perhaps in its simplest terms, how long can you wait on God until you give up on Him and put down the cup He offers?" In the pinnacle of His suffering, did not Christ cry out, "My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?"
Here's the good news: Jesus drank His cup. Jesus drank His cup so we wouldn't have to drink ours for eternity in hell. We are indeed sharers of the glory He has prepared for us. To truly experience the relationship with God we cannot even fathom, we must go through a temporary life of suffering in this world which will undoubtedly yield to the culminating relational peak with heaven's effervescence, Christ.
I know I've been humbled to re-evaluate my heart during times of prayer, and to seek understanding in what it is I'm really praying for. What are the costs of my desires? Jesus Christ calls people to take up their crosses and follow Him, and he who doesn't is not worthy to follow Christ. Just as it cost the Father absolutely everything to reconcile us back to Himself, it will cost us everything to follow Him - every desire, every aspiration, every wish, everything needs to be re-routed from satisfaction in ourselves to the glory of God. Perhaps the most fitting prayer for any Christian genuinely desiring God would be to pray that he/she be worthy of the cup God has called him/her to drink.
There is a pervasive question the author writes throughout the course of the second chapter of The Cup and the Glory, and it is this:
"By the way, what do you pray for...when you pray?"
Friday, July 23, 2010
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Reflections on the death of my grandfather
This has probably been the most difficult time this year. So far, my family lost four individuals, interestingly enough, all from my father's side of the family. But this last one really stung. It was unexpected and misleading. My lolo Tony lived a strong, enthusiastic life, even in the body of weak flesh.
When I found out a few of us were going on a missions trip to the Philippines, I immediately thought about my grandfather. Earlier this year (or perhaps it was last year), I found out he was due for a triple bypass, but my family opted not to go through with it because of the long term effects. Not knowing how much longer God would allow him to live, I knew it was an opportunity to share the gospel of Christ with him. By God's grace, we were able to do just that. I'm thankful that the last time I saw him was as fruitful as it was - in fact, my last visit with him was more meaningful than any other visit.
On June 4th, Pastor Felix was able to speak with my lolo extensively. When I first saw him, I was surprised to see how well he was. He was strong, funny, vibrant; completely contrary to what I expected in light of the triple bypass he needed. My pastor shared a thorough and comprehensive gospel with him over a span of at least 30 minutes, on how the Bible reveals how Christ died and accomplished the salvation of sinners for those who would repent from their sins and believe in Him completely, not putting confidence in their own works for salvation. To my delightful surprise, my grandfather responded positively to the good news. The next day, Bong and I were able to continue this conversation with my lolo and lola over breakfast. We continued to share the gospel and we even had the opportunity to share our testimonies. I could see that both were greatly encouraged, that they saw the grace of God in our lives. As we left them, I sensed this would be the last time I might ever see them, and I felt comfortable knowing that it would end on this note.
On July 8, as I was anticipating to see where LeBron James would play next year, I got an unexpected phone call from my uncle, telling me to call my dad to let him know my grandfather was in critical condition. I didn't think much of it - I thought, "My grandfather is strong, he'll pull through." When my dad came home that night, he told me the news I thought I would never hear.
I don't remember the last time I've mourned this extensively, over the past four days. If my grandfather is in heaven (and I believe he is, based on what I saw on our trip), why should I cry so much? I should rejoice in the fact that he's in the perfect place with the perfect savior, right? If I was to describe my emotional pattern over what the last four days have been like, it would probably resemble that of a dual personality schizophrenic. When I occupied my mind with thoughts other than my grandfather, I was normal. When thoughts of my grandfather entered my head, and how I could not accept that he was indeed gone, exorbitant streams of tears soon followed.
Through all of this, I asked myself this pestering question: Why do I not mourn like this over my own sin?
I then realized how self-centered I was. I mourned over my grandfather's death, not because I believe he's in hell, but because of the effects his death had on me. I took his presence for granted all 22 years of my life and I could not get over the fact that I would never see him again. That made me cry. I thought about the times I did not make the most of my time with him, and the times I was disrespectful, unyielding, and impatient. That also made me cry. But nevertheless, the stems of my tears were rooted in selfishness.
"Do not grieve the Holy Spirit of God, by whom you were sealed for the day of redemption." - Ephesians 4:30
I could imagine how much infinitely more I grieve the Holy Spirit with my sin, than I was grieved by the loss of my grandfather. Isn't that the nature of a sinful person? I would grieve the things that cause me pain, yet I struggle to consider the pain I cause God. How humiliating is that?! The Spirit of God who would, by his own free will, choose to reside in me permanently for the purpose of conforming me to the image of Christ, I would pay back with continual sin. Am I not shaken by the reality of this, but shaken by the reality of my grandfather?!
You could even say that we're more concerned about not offending other people, and when we do, we feel sorrow to some capacity. There is nothing inherently wrong with feeling sorrow over the offense you bring to someone; that's not the point I'm making. But if we were to be truly just and humane, we would reconsider where we invest our emotions of grief and sorrow. Should not the offense be infinitely magnified if the one offended is perfect? That's what we do to the Holy Spirit, yet we could care less about it. As much as I loved my grandfather and as much as he loved me, he was a mere man - imperfect and a sinner like me. Yet my grief over his loss far exceeds the grief I have over my own sin; a sin that deeply grieves the Holy Spirit.
"What shall we say then? Are we to continue in sin so that grace may increase? May it never be! How shall we who died to sin still live in it? Or do you not know that all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus have been baptized into His death? Therefore we have been buried with Him through baptism into death, so that as Christ was raised from the dead through the glory of the Father, so we too might walk in newness of life." - Romans 6:1-4
After explaining the grace of God, through the death of Christ, resulting in justification and Christ's imputed righteousness upon sinners in chapter 5, Paul begins chapter 6 with these verses. By implication of the text, we could see that the church in Rome could have been predisposed to a particular way of thinking in regards to their sin. We're not much different in the manner. The question we're prompted to ask immediately after reading chapter 5 is, "Given the nature of justification by the work of Christ, could we still sin since we're justified?" Paul immediately answers this question through a series of rhetorical questions, and states that the grace of God is never manifested in the license to sin as evident by the resurrection of Christ. Paul mentions this again in 1 Corinthians 15:17: "and if Christ has not been raised, your faith is worthless; you are still in your sins." If the resurrection of Christ has any impact in an individual's life, the necessary and only response to this is obedience (walking in "newness of life").
So why do I mention Romans 6:1-4? After considering the application of Ephesians 4:30 in my life, perhaps I've gotten used to the grace of God. Perhaps I ignore Romans 6 altogether. The fact that I do not grieve my sin the way the Holy Spirit does could mean I've gotten used to my sin, and that is a dangerously scary thought. I believe in the security of salvation with the utmost conviction, and thus I believe God will not take away the gift of righteousness and justification (John 10:29, Romans 8:38-39).
The way I've gotten used to the presence of my grandfather, the way I've always taken him for granted, and the grief that followed once the Lord took him away, makes me wonder (and I intend not to take away/change/add something to scripture that isn't there - I speak only in hypothetical terms) if I would react the same way if God took this saving grace away. What if the blood of Christ only cleansed a finite number of my sins, and the rest were unaccounted for? What if the Holy Spirit gets used to my sins, stops grieving, hands me over to the dominion of my sins, and departs from me? If God took these things away, would I grieve in the same manner as to when God took my grandfather away? (By the way, I probably wouldn't grieve because if this were to happen I would again find joy in my sins, completely oblivious to the holiness of God, storing up God's wrath for myself - but hopefully you get the point I'm trying to make.)
But praise God for the Bible. It tells me that my God is omnipotent. It tells me that my God is faithful. It tells me that my God is immutable. It tells me that my God is gracious and merciful. It tells me that I can find rest in my savior and rely on Him for salvation. And thus, I trust God will not take back what's He's so freely given based off the merits of Christ.
My prayer is that God would restore the grief I once had for my sin; that I would grieve in the same manner the Holy Spirit does. And the effect of this grief would cause me to be obedient, to walk in a newness of life. My prayer is to have an attitude, conveyed by these words of encouragement from John Owen:
"What have I done? What love, what mercy, what blood, what grace have I despised and trampled on! Is this the return I make to the Father for his love, to the Son for his blood, to the Holy Ghost for his grace? Do I thus requite the Lord? Have I defiled the heart that Christ died to wash, that the blessed Spirit has chosen to dwell in? And can I keep myself out of the dust? What can I say to the dear Lord Jesus? How shall I hold up my head with any boldness before him? Do I account communion with him of so little value, that for this vile lust's sake I have scarce left him any room in my heart? How shall I escape if I neglect so great salvation? In the meantime, what shall I say to the Lord? Love, mercy, grace, goodness, peace, joy, consolation - I have despised them all, and esteemed them as a thing of naught, that I might harbor a lust in my heart. Have I obtained a view of God's fatherly countenance, that I might behold his face and provoke him to his face? Was my soul washed, that room might be made for new defilements? Shall I endeavor to disappoint the end of the death of Christ? Shall I daily grieve that Spirit whereby I am sealed to the day of redemption?"
When I found out a few of us were going on a missions trip to the Philippines, I immediately thought about my grandfather. Earlier this year (or perhaps it was last year), I found out he was due for a triple bypass, but my family opted not to go through with it because of the long term effects. Not knowing how much longer God would allow him to live, I knew it was an opportunity to share the gospel of Christ with him. By God's grace, we were able to do just that. I'm thankful that the last time I saw him was as fruitful as it was - in fact, my last visit with him was more meaningful than any other visit.
On June 4th, Pastor Felix was able to speak with my lolo extensively. When I first saw him, I was surprised to see how well he was. He was strong, funny, vibrant; completely contrary to what I expected in light of the triple bypass he needed. My pastor shared a thorough and comprehensive gospel with him over a span of at least 30 minutes, on how the Bible reveals how Christ died and accomplished the salvation of sinners for those who would repent from their sins and believe in Him completely, not putting confidence in their own works for salvation. To my delightful surprise, my grandfather responded positively to the good news. The next day, Bong and I were able to continue this conversation with my lolo and lola over breakfast. We continued to share the gospel and we even had the opportunity to share our testimonies. I could see that both were greatly encouraged, that they saw the grace of God in our lives. As we left them, I sensed this would be the last time I might ever see them, and I felt comfortable knowing that it would end on this note.
On July 8, as I was anticipating to see where LeBron James would play next year, I got an unexpected phone call from my uncle, telling me to call my dad to let him know my grandfather was in critical condition. I didn't think much of it - I thought, "My grandfather is strong, he'll pull through." When my dad came home that night, he told me the news I thought I would never hear.
I don't remember the last time I've mourned this extensively, over the past four days. If my grandfather is in heaven (and I believe he is, based on what I saw on our trip), why should I cry so much? I should rejoice in the fact that he's in the perfect place with the perfect savior, right? If I was to describe my emotional pattern over what the last four days have been like, it would probably resemble that of a dual personality schizophrenic. When I occupied my mind with thoughts other than my grandfather, I was normal. When thoughts of my grandfather entered my head, and how I could not accept that he was indeed gone, exorbitant streams of tears soon followed.
Through all of this, I asked myself this pestering question: Why do I not mourn like this over my own sin?
I then realized how self-centered I was. I mourned over my grandfather's death, not because I believe he's in hell, but because of the effects his death had on me. I took his presence for granted all 22 years of my life and I could not get over the fact that I would never see him again. That made me cry. I thought about the times I did not make the most of my time with him, and the times I was disrespectful, unyielding, and impatient. That also made me cry. But nevertheless, the stems of my tears were rooted in selfishness.
"Do not grieve the Holy Spirit of God, by whom you were sealed for the day of redemption." - Ephesians 4:30
I could imagine how much infinitely more I grieve the Holy Spirit with my sin, than I was grieved by the loss of my grandfather. Isn't that the nature of a sinful person? I would grieve the things that cause me pain, yet I struggle to consider the pain I cause God. How humiliating is that?! The Spirit of God who would, by his own free will, choose to reside in me permanently for the purpose of conforming me to the image of Christ, I would pay back with continual sin. Am I not shaken by the reality of this, but shaken by the reality of my grandfather?!
You could even say that we're more concerned about not offending other people, and when we do, we feel sorrow to some capacity. There is nothing inherently wrong with feeling sorrow over the offense you bring to someone; that's not the point I'm making. But if we were to be truly just and humane, we would reconsider where we invest our emotions of grief and sorrow. Should not the offense be infinitely magnified if the one offended is perfect? That's what we do to the Holy Spirit, yet we could care less about it. As much as I loved my grandfather and as much as he loved me, he was a mere man - imperfect and a sinner like me. Yet my grief over his loss far exceeds the grief I have over my own sin; a sin that deeply grieves the Holy Spirit.
"What shall we say then? Are we to continue in sin so that grace may increase? May it never be! How shall we who died to sin still live in it? Or do you not know that all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus have been baptized into His death? Therefore we have been buried with Him through baptism into death, so that as Christ was raised from the dead through the glory of the Father, so we too might walk in newness of life." - Romans 6:1-4
After explaining the grace of God, through the death of Christ, resulting in justification and Christ's imputed righteousness upon sinners in chapter 5, Paul begins chapter 6 with these verses. By implication of the text, we could see that the church in Rome could have been predisposed to a particular way of thinking in regards to their sin. We're not much different in the manner. The question we're prompted to ask immediately after reading chapter 5 is, "Given the nature of justification by the work of Christ, could we still sin since we're justified?" Paul immediately answers this question through a series of rhetorical questions, and states that the grace of God is never manifested in the license to sin as evident by the resurrection of Christ. Paul mentions this again in 1 Corinthians 15:17: "and if Christ has not been raised, your faith is worthless; you are still in your sins." If the resurrection of Christ has any impact in an individual's life, the necessary and only response to this is obedience (walking in "newness of life").
So why do I mention Romans 6:1-4? After considering the application of Ephesians 4:30 in my life, perhaps I've gotten used to the grace of God. Perhaps I ignore Romans 6 altogether. The fact that I do not grieve my sin the way the Holy Spirit does could mean I've gotten used to my sin, and that is a dangerously scary thought. I believe in the security of salvation with the utmost conviction, and thus I believe God will not take away the gift of righteousness and justification (John 10:29, Romans 8:38-39).
The way I've gotten used to the presence of my grandfather, the way I've always taken him for granted, and the grief that followed once the Lord took him away, makes me wonder (and I intend not to take away/change/add something to scripture that isn't there - I speak only in hypothetical terms) if I would react the same way if God took this saving grace away. What if the blood of Christ only cleansed a finite number of my sins, and the rest were unaccounted for? What if the Holy Spirit gets used to my sins, stops grieving, hands me over to the dominion of my sins, and departs from me? If God took these things away, would I grieve in the same manner as to when God took my grandfather away? (By the way, I probably wouldn't grieve because if this were to happen I would again find joy in my sins, completely oblivious to the holiness of God, storing up God's wrath for myself - but hopefully you get the point I'm trying to make.)
But praise God for the Bible. It tells me that my God is omnipotent. It tells me that my God is faithful. It tells me that my God is immutable. It tells me that my God is gracious and merciful. It tells me that I can find rest in my savior and rely on Him for salvation. And thus, I trust God will not take back what's He's so freely given based off the merits of Christ.
My prayer is that God would restore the grief I once had for my sin; that I would grieve in the same manner the Holy Spirit does. And the effect of this grief would cause me to be obedient, to walk in a newness of life. My prayer is to have an attitude, conveyed by these words of encouragement from John Owen:
"What have I done? What love, what mercy, what blood, what grace have I despised and trampled on! Is this the return I make to the Father for his love, to the Son for his blood, to the Holy Ghost for his grace? Do I thus requite the Lord? Have I defiled the heart that Christ died to wash, that the blessed Spirit has chosen to dwell in? And can I keep myself out of the dust? What can I say to the dear Lord Jesus? How shall I hold up my head with any boldness before him? Do I account communion with him of so little value, that for this vile lust's sake I have scarce left him any room in my heart? How shall I escape if I neglect so great salvation? In the meantime, what shall I say to the Lord? Love, mercy, grace, goodness, peace, joy, consolation - I have despised them all, and esteemed them as a thing of naught, that I might harbor a lust in my heart. Have I obtained a view of God's fatherly countenance, that I might behold his face and provoke him to his face? Was my soul washed, that room might be made for new defilements? Shall I endeavor to disappoint the end of the death of Christ? Shall I daily grieve that Spirit whereby I am sealed to the day of redemption?"
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
A Surgin' of Spurgeon Pt. 1
Though the bird's in the net,
It may get away yet;
Though I'm down in the dust,
In my God I will trust,
I will hope in Him still,
And leave all to His will;
For He'll surely appear,
And will banish my fear.
--Charles H. Spurgeon
It may get away yet;
Though I'm down in the dust,
In my God I will trust,
I will hope in Him still,
And leave all to His will;
For He'll surely appear,
And will banish my fear.
--Charles H. Spurgeon
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