You’re Invited

I have spent a lot of time over the years with certain verses. They speak to me more than others. They also provided wisdom in difficult situations when I was pastoring. One such verse is Luke 23:42-43. Much can be said of the verse, but I don’t want to get sidetracked here but so let me try to narrow it down to this point: it has been a great comfort to me and others over the years. Why? Because it is such a powerful and simple illustration of the rich mercy of God.

As I have been cautioned and have cautioned people against over the years, we can only work with what the text says. That is, we must avoid reading into the text things that are not there or may not be there. All we know about this thief is he asks Jesus to remember him. The thief doesn’t even call Jesus lord or Lord, simply Jesus.

Through this past decade, I have ruminated on this verse, worrying at it like a tongue continually pushes against a sore tooth as I wondered at the mercy of God. The thief doesn’t follow any of the formulas for faith: a convicted criminal, sentenced to death, simply asks Jesus to remember him in the kingdom and Jesus responds with the assurance that he will not only remember the thief but bring him into paradise.

What do you do with that?

Find comfort in it. And comfort others. I turned to this story more than any others when I would be in a living room or hospital room with loved ones and someone dear to them had just died. They didn’t know if that person had faith and feared the worst and the question would be raised, “Do you think he/she is in heaven?”

I would always answer honestly: “Our God is very merciful. There is a story of a thief, convicted to death, and as he was dying he asked Jesus to remember him and Jesus promised him paradise.” That answer never failed to bring peace to the afflicted.

I was watching Alistair Begg this morning and this video popped up so I watched it because the title caught my eye and it was short. I won’t lie: it made me cry. I hope it brings you such comfort.

So very much, for so very little

There are two prayers in the New Testament that basically summarize my life of faith.

“I believe; help my unbelief” (Mark 9:24).

And,

“God, be merciful to me, a sinner!” (Luke 18:13).

These two prayers have been on my mind a lot lately. In his book, Between Noon and Three, Capon says the second prayer is part of an unacceptable parable. I don’t like the direction he takes it but at the same time, I find I cannot disagree. [Sidebar: that is how it is with much of Capon’s writings. I find myself disagreeing but the more I read and look at Scripture (my authority for doctrine), the more I realize I have to agree.]

Jesus tells this parable about two men who go into the Temple to pray. One is a Pharisee. He is the ideal candidate for leadership in any church: he does not take advantage of the weak or those in a bad situation, he is a just person, and is faithful to his wife. His spiritual life is devout and he practices the spiritual disciplines. And best of all for many a pastor–he tithes on everything he gets (Luke 18:10-12). Sit in any nominating committee in a church and tell me this man doesn’t make it onto the shortlist of “someone to talk to, to gauge their interest.”

The other man is a tax collector who, while praying, wouldn’t look up to heaven. This is kind of like when a child has done something wrong and knows it and says sorry but is afraid to look you in the eye. His prayer, “God be merciful to me, a sinner.”

That’s it. Jesus says the second one went home justified.

Two questions.

1. Is justification forever or contingent upon weekly confession? Protestants, (which I count myself among), would joyfully state it is forever.
2. Do you think the tax collector’s life changed?

Think about the second one for a moment. This tax collector didn’t pull a Zaccheus and promised to pay everyone back. Do you think he went home to his household and announced, ‘good news, I’m no longer going to be a tax collector! Say goodbye to the life of luxury and power you are all used to!’ Or do you think the tax collector went back to the life that he had lived for years? The only life he knew. Based on the data of human experience, I’m willing to bet the tax collector went back to tax collecting.

Maybe this is why Jesus said, “Truly I tell you, the tax collectors and the prostitutes are entering the kingdom of God ahead of you.” (Matthew 21:31).

The promises of the gospel make no sense. Why God should promise us so much for so very, very little, is something I will never understand. I could tell you it is because of his endless love or that he is the God of all grace but does that satisfy your deep confusion?

Perhaps the way God relates to sinners is a mystery. Maybe God’s tremendous offer of so much for so very little in return (a humble prayer every now and then? A mustard seed of faith? A plea for remembrance while hanging on the cross?) … is something I will never fully accept. And struggle to believe. But as a father once confessed to Jesus so long ago:

“I believe; help my unbelief”

There is, therefore…

On this Friday, this Good Friday, may the writing of Robert Farrar Capon sink deep into your heart.

Romans 8.1: “There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.”

“Saint Paul has not said to you, ‘Think how it would be if there were no condemnation’; he has said, ‘There is therefore now none.’ He has made an unconditional statement, not a conditional one– a flat assertion not a parabolic one. He has not said, ‘God has done this and that and the other thing; and if by dint of imagination you can manage to put it all together, you may be able to experience a little solace in the prison of your days’ No. He has simply said, ‘You are free. Your services are no longer required. The salt mine has been closed… It doesn’t matter what other people think. It doesn’t matter what you think. It doesn’t even matter what God thinks, because God has said he isn’t going to think about it anymore. All he thinks now is Jesus, Jesus, Jesus; and Jesus now is all your life.”

Between Noon and Three, 115-116.

Virgil Wander

2 1/2 months into 2022, my reading plan is going quite well. Several years ago I read Peace Like a River by Leif Enger. While I enjoyed it, and it definitely had some religious tones to it, there was nothing overtly theological about it. I found it to be a sad story. But as time has passed, I find myself thinking about it a lot. So I decided to read Virgil Wander.

Virgil Wander is his third novel and the first one published in 10 years. The plotline intrigued me so I put it on my list for 2022. It isn’t often I do an individual post devoted to a book but Virgil Wander called for it.

This book is fantastic.

The story takes place, like all of his works, in Minnesota. (Sidebar: William Krueger also writes great novels that take place in Minnesota. Is anyone talking about this?) Virgil lives in an apartment above the movie theater he owns, in a small dying town, along the banks of Lake Superior. At the start of the story, Virgil drives his car into the lake and barely lives. As a result of the car crash, he has suffered some memory loss and his personality has changed enough that he feels like he is a new person. Through his rediscovery of his own identity as well as that of the people of his town, we are introduced to a variety of quirky and interesting characters. If for no other reason, this book is worth your time to read about Virgil’s journey as well as Enger’s depiction of his fictitious town.

But here’s the thing: this book is about grace.

As Leif Enger says in a brief promo on Youtube about this book, it’s a story about someone who gets a break they don’t know they need and they don’t deserve. They get a second chance at life. And it is so much fun, as well as encouraging, to see what happens when someone takes a second chance at life seriously. As Enger puts it, rebirth is attractive:

“You’re changing rapidly into the next. Some rangy ascetic if I had to guess. Lasering in on what’s important in life, now that you’ve nearly died. Why not? Everyone wants to start again. Rebuild with new bones and fresh skin. Why are we here if not to grow! Plus, aren’t you discovering it’s attractive?”

“I don’t follow.”

“Attractive to others. Keep up with me Virgil! People are drawn to rebirth.”

Perhaps my favorite part of the story is a microcosm for the book. One of Virgil’s co-workers’ husband is a failed alcoholic. She lands him a job and he decides to go ahead and use the job as an opportunity to re-invent himself. It is a job as a handyman for the local rich man (think Mr. Potter). He stops by Virgil’s place to ask for a tool that he claims he loaned to Virgil before Virgil was injured. Though Virgil’s memory is damaged, he is positive he has never borrowed any tools from him. But thinking about this chance to turn his life around, Virgil decides to go ahead and find the “tool.” They go down to the basement where he has lots of very nice tools. Suddenly, after “returning” the tool, Virgil reminds his co-workers’ husband that he also loaned him a bunch of other tools. In a scene very reminiscent of Les Miserables, Virgil starts giving away the best of his tools, continually reminding his visitor these were actually his tools all along.

Isaiah 55:1-3

“Come, all you who are thirsty,
    come to the waters;
and you who have no money,
    come, buy and eat!
Come, buy wine and milk
    without money and without cost.
² Why spend money on what is not bread,
    and your labor on what does not satisfy?
Listen, listen to me, and eat what is good,
    and you will delight in the richest of fare.
³ Give ear and come to me;
    listen, that you may live.

Grace: churned, frozen and delicious

When I was a pastor and had to talk about to the children about grace, one of my most common metaphors was that grace is like an unexpected gift of ice cream; ice cream given unexpectedly, when you don’t deserve it. You’ve been bad all day. In time out. Lost privileges like tv or video games and suddenly your parents announce that you’re going to go to the ice cream shop and you can order whatever you want. Grace is delicious, it is joy-filled and enjoyable and it is never, ever, earned or deserved.

I’m currently making ice cream for my kids.

I’m not trying to imply anything here.

But in case you were interested, here is my recipe for Bourbon Peach Ice Cream

Peel and macerate 1 finely diced peach for several hours

When ready, add it to the base recipe #2 (which I now double because the family has grown)

Add 1 teaspoon or vanilla extract

Add .5oz bourbon

pour in the macerated peach

And let the machine do it’s work for 30 minutes.

And enjoy that delicious grace.