Deep waters

Psalm 69 is the first Messianic Psalm I remember noticing. I think an older brother quoted it in prayer during the Lord's Supper one morning when I was in high school. At any rate, I think of Psalm 69 and Psalm 102 as the iconic Messianic Psalms. To be fair, I tend to see almost all the Psalms as Messianic in at least some sense, but that's a whole different topic.

The Psalm is addressed to the Chief Musician, which is generally a good indication that it's Messianic. I haven't found an exception to that rule yet. 

The opening plea is for God to save, because "the waters have come in unto my soul" (Psalm 69:1–3).

At the risk of sounding glib, it seems to me that there is a commentary on these verses in Song of Solomon:

Many waters cannot quench love, Neither do the floods drown it: Even if a man gave all the substance of his house for love, It would utterly be contemned. (Song of Solomon 8:7)

There is something profound in the statement that everything a man has is worthless in exchange for love. It took me a long time to realize what that verse is actually saying is, "give everything you own for love, it's still not enough."  

So when the Son of God gave Himself for us (Galatians 2:19–21), we understand that He measured up to this statement. It was Himself He gave, as opposed to anything He possessed.

But of course the connection between Psalm 69:1ff and Song of Solomon 8:7 lies in the "many waters." In Psalm 69, they are a threat that overwhelms, destroys, and eventually kills. But in Song of Solomon, we're assured they're not enough to quench love.

 The Lord loved us and gave Himself for us. That's an astonishing thing to remember. And it bears remembering that He thinks it was a good deal. Imagine that! Isaiah 53:11 tells us that God will look at the result of His giving Himself for us and "be satisfied."

The Veil

Hebrews 10:19–22 confused me for a very long time. How is the veil a picture of Christ's flesh? I admit that one wasn't very clear to me.

A couple years ago I found what I think is the answer. It's in Numbers 4:4–6. When the tabernacle was to be moved, the priests were to take down the veil and use it to cover the ark of the covenant. So the veil was the thing – well, one of the things along with badgers' skins and a blue cloth – that covered the ark as it was carried through the wilderness.

Similarly, Christ's body contained the full presence of God as He walked in this fallen world.

Now, it's easy for us to take a wrong step when we contemplate Christ as the incarnate Son of God, so let's be sure we're clear about this... the Lord Jesus Christ is eternally God. He has no beginning, He has no end. He is God. So when I say that His body contained the full presence of God, it's not that He was just a Man who was indwellt of God. He is God, and He became a Man. That order is important: He's not a Man who became God, He's God who became Man.

But while He is not just a Man indwellt of God, He is indeed a Man indwellt of God. Colossians 2:9 is explicit: the fullness of the Godhead dwells in Him bodily. He is God, He became Man, and the fullness of the Godhead dwells in His body. 

I still find it amazing how John describes the burial of Christ (John 19:38–42). In verse 38, we have Joseph of Arimathaea begging Pilate for "the body of Jesus", and in verse 40 we have them wrapping up "the body of Jesus" in linen with spices for burial. But when we get to the actual burial in verse 42, we have, "[t]here therefore, on account of the preparation of the Jews, because the tomb was near, they laid Jesus." Notice the wording changes from "the body of Jesus" to just "Jesus." I don't know a stronger statement in Scripture of the Incarnation than that. They didn't bury "the body of Jesus," they buried "Jesus." He is so completely Man that scripture tells "He" – not "His body" – was buried (cf. 1 Corinthians 15:3–5).

So we don't want in any way to diminish the Lord's completeness as God and as Man, but the Scripture makes statements about the Lord's flesh, and we need to listen to them. We are to remember the Lord with bread to represent His body and wine to represent His blood (1 Corinthians 11:23–26). The fact that there are two distinct physical representations draws our attention to distinctions in the Lord's mind. We err when we make those distinctions too big, but we also err when we make them too small.

The veil reminds us that the Lord carried the entire presence of God in this world wrapped up in His body. And while that's certainly a mystical statement, it's very physical. John reminds us that he looked at, contemplated, and handled the "eternal life that was with the Father" (1 John 1:1–3). The Lord Jesus brought God close enough to touch.

And it's significant that John doesn't claim that we have looked at, contemplated, and handled the eternal life that was with the Father. He did, the other Apostles did, but we did not. We're part of the "you" (vv. 2–3). If he had made the claim that we had experienced God like they did, he would effectively deny the Incarnation. If it means anything, incarnation means an immediacy to God's presence in the body of Christ that only people in that time and place could experience.

Of course I don't mean that we won't see His face in the future. But if we claim to have seen and known the Man who is God in the same way that John and the Apostles did, then we are really saying that He isn't a real Man. We certainly shall see Him, but we haven't seen Him yet.

So the Lord Jesus carried the fulness of the Godhead in His body in a real, physical way.

And when we understand that – to the extent we can understand any of this – it changes our contemplation of His death for us. He gave His body for us. The body that contains the fulness of the Godhead... that body was given for us. 

Christ as a means to an end

I spent the last week or two of January with COVID-19. It was pretty rough, and the road back to normal has been longer than I anticipated. All told, I spent about ten days with a fever, and another week after that with absolutely no stamina. I told someone this morning that I went out to split some firewood, and when I came in thoroughly exhausted, I realized I had been gone something like 15 minutes. So my plans have been entirely disrupted. At the same time, I don't want to complain too much: I know several people who had a much worse time with it than I had.

So as a tentative step back into writing this blog, I want to share some simple thoughts on Christ as a means to an end. I was listening to a talk on Colossians 1:24ff this morning – a very good talk, by the way – and as I sat listening, I was struck by the thought that a great deal of what was said can be summed up, "Don't think of Christ as how we get to blessings, but learn to see Him as the blessing itself." Now, that isn't a great summary of the book of Colossians, but it is one of the major themes in that Epistle.

We might be able to think of several times where the Lord spoke of Himself as a means to an end. John 6:48–51 comes to mind. In that passage, it sounds like the blessing offered is eternal life, and the Lord has come to give us that life. But as we read on further in that book, we come across the remarkable statement, "And this is the eternal life, that they should know thee, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom thou hast sent" (John 17:3). So yes, it's true that the Lord presents Himself as the only way to get eternal life; but it's just as true that as we go on, we come to see that eternal life is really knowing Him. And if we go on to read 1 John, we find that He is eternal life, He is the eternal life that was with the Father and was manifested to us (1 John 1:1–3).

So it's true that the Lord is a means to an end: He is how we get the blessings God has for us. But it's just as true that as we come to see God's mind in blessing us, we realize He doesn't offer us some of this blessing and some of that blessing. No, He offers us His own Son, and all our blessings are in Him (1 Corinthians 1:30–31). There really isn't anything God has for us that isn't in Christ Himself.

It seems to me that it's a sign of spiritual maturity when we learn that Christ is not only the Blesser, but also the Blessing.

 

Why would they come here?

Several years ago, my wife and I were speaking to a young(er) guy in the assembly about some then-current trends. I can't recall very much about the conversation. After it was over and we had parted, my wife commented, "If we offer people exactly what they can find everywhere else, why would the come here?"

I'm going to rip her words from their context and ask them as a more general question. Why would someone choose to come to our assembly, or Bible study, or church – or even more generally to the faith itself – if all we offer them is exactly what they can find everywhere else?

Peter told the Lord, "Lord, to whom shall we go? thou hast words of life eternal" (John 6:66–71). We can sympathize with Peter: the Lord's words were somewhere between incomprehensible and offensive (John 6:52, 60–61), but they were the words of eternal life. It's like Peter has made the choice that it's better to be offended by the words of eternal life than to find inoffensive – but lifeless – teaching somewhere else.

The Lord Jesus offered (and offers) what cannot be found anywhere else: eternal life. There's only one place to get it, there's only one Person who can give it. But if we want eternal life, we need to accept that He might well offend us. 

I suppose the people in John 6 ought to have expected that eternal life would offend them. They were searching the Scriptures to find eternal life (John 5:39–40). When I read about the people the Lord was addressing, I wonder how they didn't find the Scriptures offensive. They clearly had a very high view of their ancestry (John 8:33–37), but the Scriptures themselves tell in clear detail how their fathers had been hard-hearted, stiff-necked, and rebellious (Luke 11:47). "Which of the prophets have not your fathers persecuted?" (Acts 7:52). 

And it's interesting the Lord doesn't tell them they searched the Scriptures for eternal life in vain, on the contrary, the Scriptures were leading them to Him, but they weren't willing to come to Him for eternal life (John 5:39–40). It's like they had a map to buried treasure, and they studied it carefully and followed it to its end, where they decided picking up a shovel and digging was just too much work. And even that analogy falls far short, because the Lord wasn't just passively waiting for them, but was actively offering them eternal life.

We see ourselves following the same path, if we're honest with ourselves. The Lord offends us, like He offended them. It's almost cliché to say it, but there's nothing so offensive to us as being told we're not God. We claim we're grateful for the Savior, but deep down, we all want to be the savior. It offends us when we need to turn to Someone Else for salvation. And I say that as someone who has known the Lord for well over 40 years. That rebellion in our hearts doesn't go away, and it won't until He comes for us (Philippians 3:20–21).

One of the dangers when we contemplate eternal life is the idea that we who have been given eternal life don't need it anymore. The Lord calls us to eat (John 6:53) and keep on eating (John 6:56). There is a one-time eating His flesh and drinking His blood to gain eternal life, there is also a repeated eating and drinking. Eternal life isn't the sort of thing that's "one and done." No, we are creatures who need to eat and drink again and again and again. We are creatures who need to feed. That's as true in the spiritual realm as in the physical.

So Peter's question is even more pertinent than we might at first understand: "where shall we go?"  It's not like you can come to the Lord just long enough to get eternal life and then go away. No, it's necessary to come to Him and stay with Him. Maybe that's one of the ideas in 1 John 5:11–12. God gives eternal life, that's true, but He doesn't put it into our hands, so to speak. He gives us life in the Son. And so if we have the Son, we have eternal life. But if we walk away from the Son, then we're effectively walking away from eternal life.

And don't let's think that's not a real thing. No, I don't believe we can lose eternal life, but we sure can walk away from it. It might be "ours" in some objective sense, but if we're neglecting it – if we're walking away from the One in whom it resides – then what good is it doing us? What's the point in having eternal life if we're not living it? I don't want weak, anemic, and wan eternal life. I want to experience eternal life that's well fed, and that means feeding on the flesh of the Son of Man and drinking His blood. That means sticking close to Him, because He – He alone – has eternal life to give us.

But now we come back to where we started: if we're going to be near Christ, then we're going to hear things to offend us. It's not by accident that Christ offending His listeners and His offering eternal life are presented together in Scripture. An inoffensive Christ doesn't offer eternal life.

So let's go back to my wife's question: "why would anyone come here, if we're just offering what everyone else offers?" If people look at us and see that we have Christ, then we might get the odd crowd, but those are the people who are going to leave again pretty soon (John 6:66). But if we're faithful to Christ, if He truly is our center, then we can expect that those who come to us know why they're here.

Now, I must also point this out: if people come to us and are offended, we should be careful to ask if it's really Christ that is offending them. I have been in too many assemblies where their offensiveness is seen as a sort of a badge of honor. They seem to think it's proof of their godliness that people keep leaving. Well... that's one explanation. There are other explanations that are less flattering.

 

Christ the center

Ephesians 1:9–10 reveals one of the mysteries in the New Testament: God's will is to head up "all things" in Christ. That goes far beyond what I understand, but it's worth spending some time thinking about it.

Scripture tells us that Christ is "the last Adam" (1 Corinthians 15:45) and "the second Man" (1 Corinthians 15:47). In those two titles we see God's view of human history: He brought the human race to an end in the crucifixion, and He began something entirely new in the resurrection.

1 Corinthians 15:42–44 teaches us that resurrection changes things fundamentally. Resurrection makes us something different than we were. At the same time, it's not a replacement, but a transformation. This is a difficult concept for us to grasp: resurrection changes what we are, but it doesn't change who we are. I'm afraid it's easy to fall into error on both sides of that one: it's not that God replaces us, but He does transform us.

Christ, of course, is neither replaced nor transformed. He is eternally God, and that can't be improved. But at the same time, He is the end of what was before, and the beginning of something entirely new. There is now a New Creation, and Christ is the Man at the center of it.

In a Bible reading a few years ago, one brother said that in the first creation, God made the whole creation, then put a man at the center of it. But in the new creation, He started with a Man in the center, and built the creation around Him. Almost like He took the opposite approach.

We are part of this New Creation built around Christ as its Center.

It seems like what we really want, though, is a Christianity with Christ as a sort of a foundation, but not as the Center. We have all sorts of things we like to put at the center: morality, doctrine, even family. What we don't seem to realize is, whatever we put at the center is what we're worshiping.

1 Corinthians 1:30–31 tells us that God has made Christ our wisdom, our righteousness, our holiness, and our redemption. Christ is our life (Colossians 3:4). The Christian life is supposed to be all about one Person. It's supposed to be like the New Creation, built around the Lord Jesus Christ at the center.

But we have no shortage of other things we try and put at the center. We put morality, wisdom, knowledge – even relationships with one another – at the center. 1 Corinthians 1:17 reminds us it should be "Jesus Christ, and Him crucified" that's at the center of everything to us.

Imagine what that kind of life would look like! What would it look like if everything in our lives were centered around "Jesus Christ, and Him crucified"? What would it look like if we asked constantly how all the things we encountered were related to "Jesus Christ, and Him crucified"?

 

 

 

 

 

Exclusive and Inclusive

The Lord appears to make two opposite claims in Mark 9 and Matthew 12. In Matthew 12:30, He says, "he that is not with me is against me." In Mark 9:39–40, He says, "he who is not against us is for us." We might describe the former as an exclusive statement, and the latter as an inclusive statement. It's worth thinking about these two statements.

It seems to me the difference between those two statements is the pronoun: when the Lord makes an exclusive statement, He uses the pronoun "me"; when He makes the inclusive statement, He uses the pronoun "us". In other words, when the issue is Christ Himself ("me"), then we can't be too exclusive. If you're not for Christ, then you are against Him, period. But when the issue is Christ and His followers ("us"), then we need to be inclusive. If you're not actively against them, then you are for them.

It seems to me there are two errors we might fall into here. The "liberal" error is to make an inclusive statement about Christ Himself, misquoting Matthew 12:30 as "he who is not against me is for me." The opposite error is to make the exclusive statement about a group, misquoting Mark 9:40 as, "he who is not with us is against us."

If we make an exclusive statement about a group, then we end up in some difficulty. We end up making loyalty to a group to be virtually the same as loyalty to Christ. And I know people who have had to deal with this: people who have been accused of defecting from the truth because they started to meet with a different group of Christians. Now, I may have problems with some of the fellowship decisions people around me have made, but to accuse someone of leaving Christ! I just don't see how someone who truly fears God wouldn't be terrified to say something like that.

On the other hand, if we make an inclusive statement about Christ Himself, then we're really denying the Gospel, aren't we? The Christian life centers on Christ. J. N. Darby wrote a paper called "Bethesdaism, or Indifference to Christ." I can't recall much about the article, but that title has haunted me for many years. What a description! How could a believer be indifferent to Christ?

Sadly, it happens. Sadly, it's a lot easier than we might think. I have found myself pretty close to indifferent to Christ many times, when I've let other things get in the way. It's all too easy for us to allow ourselves to find something that comes between us and the Lord.

But the point is, making an inclusive statement about Christ Himself (not about Christ and His followers) is really the first step to syncretism.

One of my daughters' friends was telling us that he was at some sort of interfaith event at a college, and there was a panel taking questions. He asked if each panel participant could briefly explain how their beliefs were divine, as opposed to being merely moral philosophies. In other words, is your faith really about God? Or is it just a moral code?

It seems to me that evangelicalism has reached a point where it's much more a moral code than a religion. When I was growing up, it was common to hear Christians claiming, "Christianity isn't a religion, it's a relationship." I'm afraid even "religion" would be an improvement for many at this point. It's remarkable how popular a Christ-optional Christianity is.

We're called to fellowship with the Father and with the Son (1 John 1:1–3). There is implicit morality there, but it's not really a moral code. Indeed, James 2:21–26 holds up Abraham (who was on the verge of killing his son as a sacrifice) and Rahab (who committed treason) as examples of faith. The moral code that comes from loving and fearing God might well be something the world around us finds incomprehensible, or even reprehensible.

But that's really the point: we're not called to a moral code, we're called to a Person.

So I'm trying hard to remember that when it's about Christ alone, I need to be exclusive. When it's about Christ and His followers, I need to be inclusive.

My Lord, the King

I was listening to someone speaking about the relationship between Christ and the church. He said that Christ isn't king over the church: the church is His bride, not His subject. I didn't spit out my coffee when he said that, but I wanted to. 

I understand where that idea comes from. Perhaps the most important distinction between believers on this side of the Cross and the Old Testament saints is union with Christ.  David and Abraham were both justified freely by faith (Romans 4:1–10). But not a verse of Scripture even hints that either of them had died with Christ, was buried with Him, or was risen with Him. All of these things are true of us today (Colossians 3:1–5). Of course this is all individual.

There is something new that God has done now, corporately, compared to the Old Testament. There is the assembly, the Body of Christ (Ephesians 1:22–23), the habitation of God through the Spirit (Ephesians 2:19–22). Scripture tells us the assembly is not only the Body of Christ, but also the Bride of Christ (Ephesians 5:24–33). And it's entirely Scriptural to emphasize the intimacy of this relationship. Ephesians 5 does exactly that.

But there's a danger here: so many who want to emphasize the intimacy of the relationship between Christ and His bride, fall into the opposite error. The idea that "the church is His bride, not His subject" is just plain foolish. It doesn't have to be one or the other: it's both.  

Scripture tells us quite plainly that the wife of the king isn't exempt from his authority. Yes, the assembly has a distinct and intimate relationship with Christ, but I can't find a single example in Scripture where the king's wife isn't one of his subjects.

Let's consider the case of David and Bathsheba (1 Kings 1:11-31). What does she call David? She calls him "my lord King David" (1 Kings 1:31). She calls him "my lord the king" (1 Kings 1:21, 27).  She calls him "my lord" (1 Kings 1:17). Some people seem to have decided it's appropriate to use this last title for Christ, but not the others. Is there any reason the bride of Christ shouldn't address Him as "my Lord, the King?"

Let's consider the case of Esther. She refers to her husband as "the king" (Esther 5:1-4), and "O king" (Esther 7:1–4). 

It seems to me like this is an example of folks allowing their theology to push them past what Scripture actually teaches. Both in Israel (David and Bathsheba) and in the nations (Ahasuerus and Esther), Scripture presents the queen as addressing the king as "king". 

So we should be really careful about condemning someone for calling Christ the King. Let's not make someone a transgressor for a word, especially when the Scripture seems to support it.
 

 

 

The Synagogue

Sometime in the past couple years, I was struck by the fact that both the Lord and Paul appear to have regularly attended the Synagogue. Luke 4:16 tells us it was the Lord's custom to attend the synagogue. Acts 18:4 tells us Paul visited the synagogue every sabbath in Corinth.

What struck me is, the synagogue isn't in the Law of Moses. It was an invention of post-captivity Judaism; we generally credit Ezra with inventing the tradition of the synagogue (Nehemiah 8:1–12). In fact, the first sabbath day commandment – given before the children of Israel reached Sinai – commands against leaving your home (Exodus 16:29).  But the Lord respected the synagogue tradition, and appears to have attended faithfully.

I've spent a lot of time with folks who take very seriously any and all commands in the New Testament about the church and its order. We don't always agree on what that means – for example, "open" assemblies generally have elders, while "exclusive" assemblies take a "not for today" position on elders –, but it's not taken lightly. There is a tendency among some groups almost to attempt to reset the ecclesiastical clock and go back to Acts 2, like the last two millennia can just be ignored. And while I personally hold views along the lines of J. N. Darby and William Kelly, I see no less conviction on the part of others who might hold slightly different views.

So you can imagine my surprise when I realized that the Lord went to the synagogue. And He didn't apparently go there to accuse them of following a man-made tradition, He didn't go there and tell them that there's no mention of the synagogue in the Law, He didn't go there to remind them that they were to worship only in the place where God had put His name (Deuteronomy 12:1–14). He went there and read the scriptures.

And that made me question a whole lot of things.

Now's a good time to remind ourselves that the Lord did, indeed, call out the Pharisees for things they had added to Scripture (Matthew 15:1–9). We should remind ourselves that He went back to "the beginning" when it was a question of divorce and remarriage (Matthew 19:1–9). So the Lord didn't just act like adding to the Word of God was OK. But we can't honestly say He followed a regulative principle either.

Now, it's true that the Lord is eternally God. It's true that He has every right to do whatever He likes, because He is God. But that doesn't appear to be what's going on here. The fact is that the Lord submitted to the Scriptures, treating them like they were the written record of God's words. But here's a case where He accepted the traditions of Judaism, apparently without any qualms at all.

I don't doubt that the Lord's life as a man on earth was entirely characterized by a moment-by-moment obedience to the Father (Isaiah 50:4; John 5:16–20).  I don't doubt that He was led by the Spirit of God every single step He took (Luke 4:1, etc.). There's no doubt in my mind that the Lord wasn't just doing what He felt like doing at the time.

But at the end of the day, here's a case where He accepted the traditions Judaism without making a point of reminding everyone that they weren't (in this case) strictly obeying the Law. He wasn't calling everyone to follow the "Old Testament pattern."

And the Apostles seemed to have a similar attitude. I've spend many years contemplating Acts 15, but without getting too side-tracked, I'll just say that when a dispute about the Law arose, the Apostles weren't shy about making a decision. Was it a godly decision? Apparently it was (Acts 15:28).

So I've been making a conscious effort not to get too hung up on a regulative principle. I've spent many years doing exactly that. I'm not saying "anything goes," not at all. I haven't forgotten that the Lord accused the Pharisees of allowing the traditions of the fathers to make the Word of God of none effect (Mark 7:9–14). But I'm also realizing that the Lord was led by the Spirit of God to participate in things that fail the to meet the standards of a strict regulative principle. And I'm not going to claim to be better than Him.

The place of death

Numbers 17:12–13

We've been reading through Numbers in our Wednesday night Bible readings. Numbers is a favourite book of mine, and I've read it through many times. But I admit that I am seeing Numbers in an entirely new light now that we're reading through it as a group.

When I've read Numbers previously, I saw it as a sort of a patchwork of stories about the journey from Sinai to Canaan, with commandments and laws interspersed. It wouldn't be fair to say that I never saw any uniting themes, but certainly Numbers has always seemed to me more of a series of anecdotes than a unified message. This time, I'm realizing that the laws given in Numbers are generally responses to the stories that come immediately before.

Numbers 18 is a fascinating chapter, it details the priest's duty (not merely privilege) to eat the offerings brought to the Lord. There are some offerings that only Aaron and his sons are to eat (Numbers 18:9–10), others are for Aaron, his sons, and his daughters (Numbers 18:11–13). There are some offerings that the Levites are to have (Numbers 18:21–24).

What I hadn't ever understood before is, the commands in Numbers 18 are a response to the events in Numbers 16–17. Numbers 17 ends with the people declaring that the Tabernacle was a place of death (Numbers 17:12–13). Numbers 18 is the instructions for the priest, detailing how to live in the place of death. How does the priest live in the place of death? he feeds on the sacrifices.

It's worthy of note that Numbers 17:8–10 introduces resurrection: God confirms Aaron's priesthood by making his [dead] staff bloom, producing blossoms and ripe almonds. God marks His priest by resurrection.

So Numbers 18 builds on these two ideas: first, the priesthood is characterized by resurrection; second, the Tabernacle is the place of death. So the question is, how can Aaron and his sons serve God in the place of death? How does one live in the place of death?

First, the priesthood must be in the power of resurrection. It's no use trying to serve God in the power of natural life. God's presence really is death to fallen men and women (Exodus 33:20). The fact is, the overwhelming majority of "Christian" ministry I have seen ignores this. If we want to serve God, if we want to come into His presence, it can only be in the power of resurrection. It's only as risen with Christ we can yield our members to righteousness (Romans 6:13). It's only as risen with Christ we can seek those things above (Colossians 3:1–3).

Second, the service of God is sustained by feeding on the Sacrifice. There is a great deal more involved in eating the offerings, but we must at least start with this: it is feeding on Christ as dead for us – His flesh our food, His blood our drink (John 6:53–58) – that we have any life in ourselves. God never intended us to be plants, He never designed us to produce our own food. We are designed to feed: the first man fed on plants in the Garden, the new Man feeds on Christ.

This is a challenge to me: it's incredibly difficult for me to admit that I can't produce for God. He hasn't called me to fill a need He has, but to have my needs filled by Him in His Son. God doesn't need us.

Eating from the altar

The Pharisees were offended that Christ would eat with sinners (Luke 15:1–2). They didn't know the half of it: He came not merely to eat with sinners, but to give His flesh to be their food and His blood to be their drink (John 6:48–58).

It can be amusing to hear people speak about the latter part of John 6. I agree that sacramentalism has done its best to ruin this amazing chapter, but we oughtn't let fear of sacramentalism keep us from entering into what the Holy Spirit teaches here. It's obvious that Christ isn't literally speaking about eating His flesh, for the simple fact that He also taught His own resurrection. You have a bookkeeping problem if you try to believe in both Resurrection and literal eating of the flesh of Christ.

That being said, the Lord chose deliberately provocative language to describe His giving us life. We've noticed before that the Son of God can give life merely by calling the dead from the tomb (John 5:25). But when the Son of Man gives life, it costs His flesh and His blood. But I don't think that's all there is to John 6. There is not only His giving, but our eating and drinking. It's not just that we believe on Him (we do), but we must feed on Him as well.

1 Corinthians 10:15–23 brings this into the context of the Lord's table. 1 Corinthians 10:15–18 makes the association between our eating the loaf and drinking the cup and the altar. It takes us back to the Numbers 18:8–19, there the priests were to eat all the heave-offerings the people presented. 1 Corinthians 10:16 tells us this means they had communion with the altar.

There is an association between the Lord's table and the altar. We are making a statement about that association every time we break the one loaf and drink from the cup. We are claiming our communion with the death of Christ. By eating the one loaf and drinking from the cup, we are saying we are in fellowship with the sacrifice.

I don't question that we are to feed on Christ individually, but the feeding in 1 Corinthians 10 is corporate: we being many, are one Body (1 Corinthians 10:17).

The Old Testament sacrifices were all assumed to be more than enough: with a couple exceptions (Leviticus 6:23; Leviticus 6:30), there was something for the priest in every sacrifice. Even the burnt offering, which was wholly consumed, had a part for the priest – the priest gets the skin (Leviticus 7:8).

Of course they weren't really more than enough, but the principle was established. Really, the blood of bulls and of goats is incapable of taking away sins (Hebrews 10:4). But the sacrifice they pointed to – Christ offering Himself for us by the eternal Spirit (Hebrews 9:14) – that sacrifice was far more than enough.

Christ was both our sacrifice and priest. We, as family of the priest (Numbers 18:19), are to eat of the sacrifice. By feeding on the sacrifice, we express communion with the altar (1 Corinthians 10:16). What does it mean to have communion with the altar? At the very least, it means we recognize and agree with the need for the sacrifice. At the very least, when we contemplate feeding on Christ, we contemplate our deep need of Him.

I don't doubt there is the feeding on Christ in Resurrection as well as feeding on Him in humility. It seems to me John 6 is talking about the former: it is the One who has come down from Heaven.

No man has seen God at any time

Someone in the assembly here sent out an email asking for answers to several questions his son had asked during family Bible readings. I thought I'd post my response here. I don't know what other responses he received.

We understand that Christ is God over all, blessed forever (Romans 9:5). John’s Gospel tells us that the Word was with God, and the Word was God (John 1:1). So Christ is God, but He’s also a distinct Person, distinguishable from God. We can say that Christ is God, but we cannot say that God is Christ. The Athanasian Creed says the Father is not the Son, the Son is not the Father, but the Father is God, the Son is God. And they’re one God, not two gods. Of course the same is true of the Holy Spirit. From the Athansian Creed:

[W]e worship one God in Trinity, and Trinity in Unity; Neither confounding the persons nor dividing the substance.

When we look into the Old Testament, we can find people who saw God:

• Moses, Aaron, Nadab, Abihu, and seventy of the elders of Israel (Exodus 24:9–11)
• Moses (Exodus 33:17–23)
• Moses, Aaron, and Miriam (Numbers 12:5–8) – this one is a bit questionable
• Isaiah (Isaiah 6:1)
• Daniel (Daniel 7:9–10)
• Ezekiel (Ezekiel 1:1–28)

That’s not a complete list.

When we look in the New Testament, we see the statement that “no one has seen God at any time” (John 1:18). So how do we understand those together? I think there are at least two correct answers: two principles that are true at the same time.

The first is emphasized in Exodus 33:17–23. Moses asks God to show him His glory, and God responds that He can show him His goodness, and He will proclaim His name, but man can’t see His face and live (vv. 18–20). We understand God to be saying, “you can’t see all there is to see of Me”. That is, God was willing to show Moses some of Himself, but Moses couldn’t see all.

I think this is really the point of John the Baptist’s words in John 1:18; it’s not that no one has ever gotten a look at God, but the only complete view of God is in the Son.

There is something else going on here, which is brought out in John 12:37–41. John quotes Isaiah 53:1 (v. 38) and Isaiah 6:9–10 (v. 40). John specifically says Isaiah “saw his glory and spoke of him” (v. 41). Whose glory did Isaiah see? In Isaiah 6 we read that he saw “the King, Jehovah of hosts” (Isaiah 6:5). But if we look at John 6:41 in context, the “him” there is Christ. So Isaiah sees Jehovah, and John quotes the passage to say that he had seen Christ.

When John says “no one has seen God at any time”, he is speaking the absolute truth: none of us have seen God completely. Some, like Moses, have seen as much of God as He can show a fallen man, but none have ever gotten the complete view of God.

At the same time, we know at least one of those “God sightings” was God showing Isaiah Christ. In fact, I believe that all of the Old Testament sightings of God were actually Christ appearing to them before His incarnation. This is what theologians call Christophany (sometimes Theophany). What gets really interesting is the end of Hebrews 1, where Psalm 102:24–28 are quoted. Hebrews says those are the words of God to the Son, and God tells the Son that He (the Son) is eternal, the creator of all things. That essentially makes the entire creation story of Genesis 1 & 2 into one long Christophany. It was the Son who created all things (cf. John 1:3).

Christ is eternally God (although technically, “Christ” is a title that really only applies in incarnation, but that’s another topic…). God is spirit (John 4:24). When we consider Him before incarnation, we think of eternal Sonship (that is, the Father - Son relationship in the Godhead is eternal), and we think of Him as the Creator of all things. I don’t know that there’s much more we can say about that…

Incarnation is something none of us can understand. The Son, who is eternal God, became Man. Of course He is not Man from eternity: He took on a body (Hebrews 10:5). At the same time, we realize He is not merely a human body possessed by the spirit of Christ: that’s the heresy of Apollonarism. We understand the He is a real Man, and apparently this is a permanent change: He ascended back into Heaven as a Man with a physical body, and we look to see Him return the same way (Acts 1:11). He is so completely Man, that 1 Corinthians 15:1–5 tells us, “He was buried” (v. 4). It’s not that they buried His body, but they buried Him.

Paul’s epistles refer to Christ as a real Man, even now that He’s ascended into Heaven. Take, for example, 1 Timothy 2:5 – ”the Man, Christ Jesus.”

1 Timothy 6:13–16 are probably worth mentioning here. In context, I take “the blessed and only Ruler” (v. 15) to be Christ. We’re told He lives in unapproachable light, which no man has seen, nor can see. There is apparently a place which not even those in Heaven can see, where only God can be. And Christ is there. Even in eternity, we won’t see in there. This is really what John 1:18 is talking about, the only way for any creature to know about God in that complete way is for God Himself to come out of that unapproachable light and tell us what goes on in there. This is what Christ has done.

Finally, we should probably mention Colossians 2:9. We’re told that all the fullness of the Godhead dwells in Christ bodily. I’m not entirely sure what that means, but I’m certain it means that in Incarnation, Christ was never less than God. Our Protestant blood boils a bit when we hear Mary called “Mother of God”, but it is true in a very limited sense: when she gave birth to Christ, she gave birth to the fullness of the Godhead. No, that doesn’t mean that there is a Mother-Son relationship between Mary and God. No, I wouldn’t call Mary the Mother of God. But I fear our zeal to combat Mariolatry has led us to downplay the fullness of Christ’s nature as God. The fullness of the Godhead dwells bodily in the Lord Jesus, even at His birth.

The Son of Man lifted up

John 3:12–15

Some people throw around the word "type" pretty carelessly. If scripture doesn't actually say something is a type, I prefer not to call it one. Here in John 3 we have a case where scripture specifically calls something a type: just like Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so also must the Son of Man be lifted up (John 3:14).

We tend to worship what has been lifted up. The children of Israe eventually began to worship that serpent, until Hezekiah destroyed it (2 Kings 18:4). Hezekiah understood that the serpent was only brass, it wasn't actually what had delivered Israel.

Well, we're in a slightly different position. The Father wants us to honor the Son exactly the same way we honor the Father (John 5:23). So where Israel was wrong the worship the serpent, we are right to worship the One who was lifted up for us.

We understand that the Son of God became the Son of Man, at least in part so the He could be lifted up for us.

We worship Him because He is God (John 1:1). Hebrews 1:10–12 tells us (quoting Psalm 102) that He laid the foundation of the earth, and the heavens are the works of His hands. We worship Christ Jesus because He is the creator of all things: not one thing came into being without Him (John 1:3).

We remember Him because He gave Himself for us (Galatians 2:20). Of course we don't minimize who He is as God from eternity, but we understand that it was in a sense a much greater thing for Him to give Himself for us than it was to create us. Being made sin for us (2 Corinthians 5:21) cost Him much more than creating the heavens and the earth.

We remember that the Son became the Son of Man so that He could be lifted up for us. He gave His flesh to be food and His blood to be drink (John 6:53) so that lost sinners could have eternal life. He poured out His soul into death, and was made an offering for sin for us (Isaiah 53:10–12).

Eternal Sonship

I should have been a lot more careful with me wording on this post. To be honest, my wording was largely because I wasn't very careful in my thinking. Let me just make this disclaimer: Jesus Christ did not become the Son of God. I've kept the post as-is (excepting this paragraph) so the comments make sense.

A few months ago I was speaking on John 1 in the assembly, and spent a few minutes discussing Eternal Sonship. I've heard several comments on the Lord's Sonship in the meetings, many of which are nonsense. I thought it might be helpful for some of the younger folks in the assembly to lay out what Scripture actually says.

This is one of those topics where we have to be very cautious. When we talk about the Person of the Son, we need to understand from the outset that our very best understanding falls short. There's a hymn in the Little Flock that says:

The Father only Thy blest name

Of Son can comprehend.

There's a lot of truth in that statement, and we do well to approach this sort of thing fearfully. Better men than I have run aground here...

The Lord Jesus has several titles that infer sonship:

• Son (John 5:19–23)
• Son of God (John 5:25)
• Son of Man (John 5:27)
• Son of David (Matthew 1:1)
• Son of Abraham (Matthew 1:1)
• Son of His love (Colossians 1:13)

There are others, but this list serves for our purposes.

We understand that an eternal Person can have a non-eternal title. We'd look askance at someone who called Christ "the eternal Son of David." The Person is eternal, the relationship is not. Christ was Son when there was no David. He was Son when there was no Abraham, and He was Son when there was no man.

The question of Eternal Sonship revolves around exactly this question: we agree that Christ is eternal and uncreated: He is God blessed forever (Romans 9:5). But the question remains, is the Father-Son relationship in the Godhead eternal?

Let's pause to be sure we're very clear about this. I've heard preachers talk about Eternal Sonship who seemed to think the question is whether Christ is eternal. Nothing could be farther from the truth! C. A. Coates denied Eternal Sonship, but did not question Christ's essential and eternal Deity:

In reply to your letter I may say, in the first place, that the question raised in regard to the expression "the eternal Son", as applied to our Lord, is not at all a question as to His Deity, or His eternal personality. The dear brethren are all, thank God, perfectly clear as to these great and vital matters of revelation and of faith. The Son was eternally God (John 1:1), and subsisted in the form of God (Philippians 2:6); before Abraham was He was "I am", John 8:58. Whatever inscrutable blessedness and glory and power belongs to the Godhead belongs in the fullest and most absolute way to Christ; He is "over all, God blessed for ever", Romans 9:5.

(Letters of C. A. Coates, pp. 191–195)

Having made that clear, let's consider the Father-Son relationship in the Godhead: There are at least three times where Scripture takes us back into past eternity and names the Father and the Son: John 5, John 17, and Hebrews 1. There may well be others. These three passages convince me of Christ's eternal Sonship. The Lord clearly speaks of His relationship with the Father as Father before the world began.

That being said, C. A. Coates is correct that scripture doesn't use the title "Eternal Son." We try to be very careful to use the words of Scripture, especially with regard to Christ – we should be careful about using a title Scripture doesn't use. We don't want to make a person an offender for a word, but we realize it's extremely easy to fall into error when we touch the Person of Christ.

If we examine what Scripture says about the Father-Son relationship in eternity, we find it consistently uses the title "Son" to refer to Christ. I know a lot of "brethren" who believe that the title "Son of God" is eternal, but I can find no evidence of that in Scripture.

I admit when I hear someone talk about "the Eternal Son of God" I wince a little. As far as I have been able to find, scripture talks about "the Son" in eternity past, it doesn't talk about "the Son of God" in that context. And yes, I have said "the Eternal Son of God" many times.

Scripture connects the title "Son of God" with national Israel (John 1:49), while it connects "Son of Man" with the Gentiles (Daniel 7:13–14). I don't see in Scripture that either title is eternal.

Yes, I do believe in eternal Sonship. No, I don't believe the eternal title is "Son of God".

Image of God

There is a connection between Exodus 20:4–5 and Colossians 1:15. The children of Israel were commanded to have no images to worship. An image eventually becomes an idol. Indeed, when God specifically commanded Moses to make an image (Numbers 21:8–9), it became an idol to them (2 Kings 18:4).

But God has specifically given us one Image to worship: Christ, who is the image of the invisible God.

In fact, when we consider John 3:14, we learn that the brass serpent was actually a type of the Son of Man lifted up. The children of Israel were committing idolatry when they worshiped the serpent that was lifted up for them, but God Himself invites us to worship the Son of Man who was lifted up for us. It is explicitly the Father's will that we should honor the Son as we honor the Father (John 5:23).

Isn't that cool? God knows we have a tendency to worship images, and He has given us an image to worship.

Twelve titles

A few weeks ago I was talking about John 1 in the assembly. I mentioned I'd counted seven titles of Christ there, but realized I'd missed at least two. So I enlisted the assembly to help me count them, and people started calling out titles they saw. We got up to twelve that day, but there's at least one more an older brother mentioned to me later.

Here's the working list I have so far:

1. the Word (John 1:1)
2. Light (John 1:8–10 )
3. Only-begotten of the Father (John 1:14)
4. Christ (John 1:17)
5. Only-begotten Son (John 1:18)
6. The Prophet (John 1:21)
7. Lord (John 1:23)
8. Lamb of God (John 1:29)
9. Son of God (John 1:34)
10. Rabbi (Teacher, Master) (John 1:38)
11. King of Israel (John 1:49)
12. Son of Man (John 1:51)

There's a lot to be said about John 1, it reaches back to before there was anything except God. It pulls the curtain back just a bit and lets us see what "before time" looked like. John 5 goes even further, but that's for another day.

I've been chewing over John 1 for several weeks now, and there's a whole lot in that chapter. It's been a good investment of my time.