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What is the heart of the Gospel? What does the Gospel teach at its core?
In our adult Core Seminar this week, we consider this issue by means of J.I. Packer's "The Heart of the Gospel," chapter 18 from Knowing God (republished by Crossway this year in In My Place Condemned He Stood: Celebrating the Glory of the Atonement). In this chapter Packer explains the central importance of propitiation - that is, of averting God's anger over sin by an offering. He explains the reason why so many take offense at the idea, the biblical support for the idea, and the importance of the idea in our Christian walk.
Here is a brief outline of the chapter to whet your appetite. Please read it if at all possible, and join us this Sunday as we glory in Christ's work on our behalf.
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On Sunday we focused in part on Hebrews 4:11:
Let us therefore strive to enter that rest, so that no one may fall by the same sort of disobedience.
We noted the paradox of this verse: We are to work real hard to rest. And we showed that this does not mean, “Work read hard NOW to rest IN THE FUTURE.” Psalm 23 and Matthew 11:28-30 clearly show we are to be resting now, while we are working. Our rest in Christ is, instead, similar to a runner – a Usain Bolt, a Ryan Hall – relaxing while running the race of his life. He is working hard – yet, other than the specific muscles required for running, he is completely relaxed. In the image of Matthew 11, we are yoked together with Jesus. He gives us rest – simultaneous with our taking up His yoke. His power does the labor, the pulling, as we are paired with Him.
The Hebrews passage clarifies further how we are both to strive to rest, and to rest while striving. The author writes:
11 Let us therefore strive to enter that rest . . . 12 For the word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing to the division of soul and of spirit, of joints and of marrow, and discerning the thoughts and intentions of the heart.
The word “for” links the command to how we live out the command. And there is only one way to depend actively on God: Through His Word.
How does the Word help us do this?
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"So much of the Christian life is not learning new things but learning fundamental things in new ways."
So wrote Tom Ascol, Executive Director of Founders Ministries, in a recent blog post. Several weeks ago he was struck by lightening - yes, literally - and is still recovering.
In this country, we have a passion for the new: New electronic gadgets, new books, new ideas, new leaders. We expect progress; we anticipate that all will improve.
The anticipation of progress is less common around the world and, from a historical viewpoint, is rather recent. Now, in many ways, believing that change is possible is helpful and necessary; indeed, a belief in change is fundamental to salvation.
But our fascination with the new has a downside also: We quite easily slip into an attitude of disdain for the old. C.S. Lewis labeled this "chronological snobbery," which he defined as "the uncritical acceptance of the intellectual climate of our own age and the assumption that whatever has gone out of date is on that count discredited" (from Surprised by Joy chapter 13.)
Tom's statement is an excellent summary of the right attitude towards biblical truth. We must remind ourselves and one another again and again of the great truths of the Gospel, of the great acts of God in history, of the great aspects of His character, of the great promise of Christ's return. This is how we run the race of faith with endurance.
But reminding ourselves of these fundamental truths requires more than simply reciting a known fact. We must learn them in new ways, as Tom says. We must apply these eternal truths to the changing and challenging circumstances that overwhelm us in this life.
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In Sunday’s sermon (text, audio), I discussed my love-hate relationship over the years with interval training – running a set distance fast, repeatedly, with a short, timed rest between runs. In my high school and college days, I hated these workouts; I worked hard at them only because I knew they were necessary if I were to improve as a runner. Yet by the time I was 35, I had grown to love interval training. It was still painful – perhaps more so at age 35 than at 20. But I came to love the mental discipline of pushing myself through the pain, of maintaining good form despite tiring legs, of completing a hard workout well.
In our sermon discussion Tuesday morning, Albert brought up a particularly helpful application of this idea in our Christian lives: Many of us know that we should share our faith. We want to be people who witness. And yet we also don’t want to do so. We fear rejection; we think we won’t know what to say, or how to answer questions. So we too end up with a love-hate relationship with witnessing.
My attitude towards interval training changed when I began to see those workouts as a fulfillment of my identity has a runner. A runner is mentally tough. A runner does have control over his weakening legs. A runner will experience pain, but will nevertheless continue and overcome the temptation to quit.
We, too, need to see the sharing of our faith as the fulfillment of who we are as Christians, as those who delight in Jesus above all things. Consider:
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Consider this phrase from Isaiah 44:20: "A deluded heart has led him astray."
Note that it does not say, "He was deluded about the truth." Unquestionably that is the case. But the phrase says more: After being deluded about one matter, that very delusion leads us yet further astray from the truth.
In Isaiah 44, this is the case with idol worship. The prophet here mocks the man who takes a block of wood, cuts it up, then uses some pieces to cook food and calls the rest a god. Verse 20 concludes: "He cannot deliver himself or say, "Is there not a lie in my right hand?" Having turned away from the One Who is the First and the Last, the one true God (verse 6), the idol worshiper eventually becomes unable to escape the delusion he willingly chose. He acts foolishly, but can't recognize it. His chosen delusion leads him further and further from the truth. He is trapped.
This is a great danger that Scripture warns against again and again. Indeed, all fallen humanity is caught in this trap.
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The Bible is full of images that help us to understand the Christian life: we are part of the army of God, engaged in battle; we are part of the body of Christ; we are Christ's ambassadors, his envoys, representing him in this world; we are a building, being built up into Christlikeness; we are branches, Christ is the vine; we are the bride of Christ; we are the salt of the earth and the light of the world. All of these analogies are rich and useful.
My favorite analogy, however, compares the Christian life to running a race. This analogy is not common throughout the Bible, but Paul loves it, as he uses the running and racing image at least nine times in his epistles. In addition, the author of Hebrews uses the analogy once.
The analogy is particularly rich for me because I am a product of the running boom. I grew up during a period when mile world records would be the lead headline of the sports section; when an American set two of those world records; when 100,000 fans filled a stadium to witness a track meet between the US and the Soviet Union. Then came the 1972 Munich Olympic Games. That summer, as a 16 year old who had been running competitively for less than two years, I watched Jim Ryun, the mile world record holder and my boyhood hero, fall in his 1500 meters heat and thus fail to make the final; I watched Steve Prefontaine, an American runner only five years my senior, make a game effort to win Olympic gold in the 5k; and, most importantly, I watched Frank Shorter demolish the field to win the Olympic marathon. After those Olympics, millions of Americans began running, many hoping to complete a marathon. Every teenage boy in the country who was already running competitively began to dream of mile world records and marathon victories. I was no exception.