Knowing Christ according to the flesh

A few years ago, I was reading Romans, Verse-by-Verse by William R Newell, and I came across this quote:

I affirm that the present day popular preachers DO NOT KNOW what human guilt, before God, is! DO NOT KNOW that Christ really bore wrath under God’s hand for the sin of the world! DO NOT KNOW that He was forsaken of God, as the whole race, otherwise, must have been! I affirm that they are preaching as if an unrejected, uncrucified Christ were still being offered to the world! They preach the “character” of Jesus, saying “nice things” of Him, and telling people to “follow His example”: while the truly awful fact that Christ “bare our sins in His own body on the tree,” that He was “wounded for our transgressions,” that He was “forsaken of His God”; that “God spared not His own Son, but delivered Him up,”—and that “for our trespasses,” is never told to the poor, wretched people! Nor are they warned of that literal lake of fire and brimstone into which “every one not found written in the book of life” will be cast, and that forever. (Romans Verse-by-Verse, p. 37, emphasis added)

When I first read that, it was eye-opening. Whatever offers Christ made to the Jews, or to the Gentiles, He was rejected. Why would we think those offers are still open? Even supposing the offer was still open after the Resurrection, it seems like the book of Acts chronicles the final rejection of Christ and God's acceptance of that rejection.

It's striking to me that Peter effectively offers the millennial kingdom in Acts 3:19–21, but that offer is rejected. Daniel 7:13–14 describes the Son of man descending from Heaven to receive a kingdom, and it seems to me that would have been just as fulfilled at the end of Acts 3 as it would be now. Of course still we expect the Son of man to descend from Heaven to receive a kingdom, but my point is that Peter offered it right then and there, and was arrested instead (Acts 4:1–3).

But Newell's point is that Christ has been rejected (1 Corinthians 15:3–5): 

For I delivered to you, in the first place, what also I had received, that Christ died for our sins, according to the scriptures; and that he was buried; and that he was raised the third day, according to the scriptures; and that he appeared to Cephas, then to the twelve.

The gospel of Jesus Christ begins with His death. It presupposes His offers were rejected.

2 Corinthians 5:13–19 pushes that conclusion further with the astonishing statement that we are to know no one – not even Christ – "according to flesh." And immediately after the comment about knowing according to flesh, we have the introduction of New Creation (2 Corinthians 5:17).

Someone commented to me several years ago that so many churches were trying to know Christ according to flesh. That comment seemed vague at the time, but I have come to appreciate it much more fully over time. It seems to me that Evangelicalism is characterized by trying to know Christ according to flesh. 

I take Romans 7:5–6 to be a two-verse summary of Romans 7:7–8:4.  And in those two verses, we see a transition that we might miss in the longer passage that follows. There is a change from "when we were in the flesh" (Romans 7:5) to "now we are clear from the law" (Romans 7:6).  That transition is mirrored in Romans 7:24–25, but it's not so clear what happened in the latter verses. What happened is this change of position from "in the flesh" to "clear from the law".

If we look at 2 Corinthians 5:14–17, we see there is a New Creation, and it includes those who are in Christ. 

What does it mean to be in Christ? Well, He has died, and we have died with Him (Colossians 3:3). He was buried, and we have been buried with Him (Colossians 2:12). He was raised, and we have been raised with Him (Colossians 3:1). He was seen, and we shall be seen with Him (Colossians 3:4). But perhaps the most direct and striking statement about being "in Christ" is in Philippians 3:9 – it's not having any righteousness of my own.

2 Corinthians 5:14–17 teaches us that trying to know Christ "according to flesh" is remedied by recognizing New Creation. Philippians 3:8–15 teaches us that being "in Christ" means having no righteousness of my own. Romans 7:5–6 teaches us that being "in the flesh" means being subject to law, and that the remedy is to be "clear from the law" by death with Christ. Colossians 3:1–4 teaches us that our death with Christ isn't something we must attain, but something that is already true. Romans 6:1–11 teaches us that even having died with Christ, there is the need to reckon that to be true in order to experience the blessings of it.

2 Corinthians 5:16 tells us, even if we have known Christ according to flesh, we're not to know Him that way anymore. We have no reason to believe Paul ever met Christ before His resurrection, but Peter did. Peter had known Christ according to the flesh, as a man "in the flesh," he had known Christ unrejected and uncrucified. But Peter wasn't to know Christ that way anymore: that's 2 Corinthians 5:16.

Twice in the last year I have been in churches who were preaching through Matthew 5–7. I can't recall either of those sermon series mentioning that this was an uncrucified, unrejected Christ preaching to men in the flesh.

I found it odd that one of the preachers talked about our need for the Spirit of God in order to live out the teachings of Matthew 5–7. That's a particularly subtle form of eisegesis, to try and read Acts 2 into Matthew 7. There could be no indwelling Spirit of adoption, without the death, burial, and resurrection of Christ (John 7:39). It was Christ dead, buried, raised, and seated at God's right hand who could pour out that Spirit (Acts 2:32–36). Even if we understand John 20:22 as Him giving the Spirit (which seems difficult in light of Acts 2), we still have to acknowledge that John 20 comes after the resurrection.

I am not, of course, objecting to teaching Matthew 5–7. But if we are to understand the Gospels in light of the whole counsel of God, we need to understand them in relation to the death, burial, and resurrection of Christ. This is the most important thing that has ever happened, and those events change absolutely everything. 

Closely related to that is the importance of addressing believers not as men and women "in the flesh," but as new creation "in Christ." 

And I'll reiterate what I think is an important practical point: the epistles present our acceptance and acknowledgement of our place "in Christ" as the key to experiencing the blessings for us there. It's true that God sees me as dead, buried, and raised with Christ; but I won't experience freedom from sin without recognizing, reckoning, and counting on what God has said. Objectively it's true because God says it is true, but subjectively it doesn't benefit me unless I believe God.

And this, according to Darby, is the meaning of "in the flesh." It is to be responsible before God:

What is it to be in the flesh? It is to be in relationship with God on the ground of our natural responsibility as men, as children of fallen Adam. It is, as to our moral state — which in itself is true — making the disposition of God towards us to depend on what we are towards Him. Of this the law is the perfect rule. It says, if conscience is awakened, I am such and such: God will be so and so towards me. Grace is on the opposite ground: God has been, and is, through Christ such and such, and I shall be so and so, as the fruit of it. But this changes everything.

"On Sealing with the Holy Ghost", Collected Writings of J. N. Darby, Volume 31, p. 260 

 

It seems to me the leaven of Evangelicalism is attempting to know Christ according to the flesh. We all seem so desperate to be men and women "in the flesh," and I suspect it's because we just can't quite give up on ourselves. I suspect it's because being "in Christ" means having no righteousness of my own (Philippians 3:9), and we can't quite bring ourselves to view ourselves that way.

So having started with a quote from Romans Verse-by-Verse, maybe we'll end the same way. Here's a favorite of mine: "To believe, and to consent to be loved while unworthy, is the great secret" (p 172).

Losing the path

Some of what I have written on this blog is a consequence of real passion. A shocking number of things I have written here were outgrowth of hearing a recorded sermon, or reading an article online or in a magazine – or even watching a video on YouTube – where someone says or writes something I consider both wrong and dangerous. And sometimes the comments section will set me straight, sometimes the comments section reinforces my beliefs, and sometimes it just sits empty.

There are a surprising number of emails I have gotten over the last 14 years (or so) from people who stumbled across this blog. Some of those email exchanges turn into genuine (but remote) friendships, others don't really go very far.

As an aside: I don't try very hard to maintain my anonymity on this blog, but I try "not very hard." I generally don't mention where I work, or where I live, etc. I'm sure anyone who cares can figure those out. I try to extend the same lazy anonymity to the comment section, so I try to avoid giving away too much about people who leave comments. 

I should say, my favorite thing about this blog has been the people I've "met" from it. One or two I was privileged to meet in real life. And of course it goes the other way too: sometimes a real life friend reads my blog and that can set off some conversations too.

When I started this blog, it was more "for me" than "for you." I still read and re-read this blog, because I lose my way a lot. Sometimes I'm like the people in Psalm 107:1–7, who start out on a clear path, but somehow that path gets blurry, or lost, and they find themselves wandering. Well, I find myself wandering a lot, and when I realize I'm sort of wandering, it's helpful to look back at a time when I could see the path. 

The Lord told the Ephesians to remember "from whence ye are fallen" (Revelation 2:5). This blog is one of the things that helps me remember, when I realize I've lost sight of the path.

I was very young when I came to know the Lord. I've been at this "walking with the Lord" thing for probably 45 years. I don't do it very well, but I've been doing it a long time. In that time, I've learned that it's really easy to lose sight. It's hard to believe, when you're caught up in godly zeal, that you'll ever get dragged into the mundane. But you will. 

Don't confuse losing sight with unbelief. There's a huge difference between losing sight and losing faith. 

When you realize you've lost sight – and you will – then it's not time to hide, it's time to cry out to the Lord. He knows us, He remembers that we are dust. He isn't surprised when we lose sight, or when we sin. He's not even surprised when we sin really, really bad. The very best thing you can do when you realize you've lost the path is to stop walking. Your walking is making it worse. Stop and cry out to Him.

Earlier this year I got lost when I was out hunting. It was oddly similar to Psalm 107:1–7.  I kept my bearings very well, but I had forgotten what the map looked like, so I was actually going parallel to the road I was trying to intercept. I had remembered it running east-west, when it actually heads south for a very long way before coming back east. In fact, I only realized what had happened when I popped out of the treeline at a point I'd only ever seen when gazing across a gully. 

Part of the problem was that I was keeping up a good pace: when you're going the wrong way, the faster you go, the more lost you become.

Once I realized what I had done wrong, I took my compass out of my pack for the first time in decades and took some bearings: the sun was going down quickly, and I wanted to be sure I knew where I was going while there was still daylight left. That adventure ended sort of anti-climatically: I had hiked a trail through the bottom of the gully before, and was able to get back to that trail before dark. I was able to get back to my truck just after dark.

The point is, when you lose sight of the path, going quickly doesn't help. If you're not on the path, every step might well be taking you further away. So when you realize you've lost the path, don't keep walking. Stop and ask for help. "Lord, save me!" (Matthew 14:30).

I had something else I was going to write about, but I think it'll have to wait for another time.

Elk season this year was one misadventure after another. One very experienced hunter I know says, "You have to walk 500 miles for each elk you shoot." If I had set out to prove him right, I'm not sure what more I could have done this year.