The 8th Day

For the 8th post on this blog, I'd like to reflect a little on this concept of the 8th day.

For the Jewish culture, the 8th day is tied to circumcision -- the day in which little boys joined the people of God by submitting to the mark of the covenant. And while these little Jewish boys certainly didn't have any choice in the matter (they were only 8 days old!), they did have a choice with whether or not they remained the people of God. Over and over in the OT God's prophets compare the chasing after false gods with sexual immorality (with some quite lurid passages). Faithfulness to the mark of the covenant (and it's association with the male sexual organ), then, is connected with faithfulness to God.

So, the whole notion of God's people and God's covenant is symbolized by the 8th day.

For us on the other side of the cross, the number 8 is about New Creation, but first let's go back to the beginning. In Genesis 1, God creates the world in 6 days and rests on the 7th. At the end of each of the first 6 days, there is a common refrain: "And there was evening and morning. . .", but this refrain does not appear for the 7th day. And the reason for this is simple: because that day has not yet ended for God. He is still resting from His work of creation. He is still active, obviously, just not creating. But there is coming a day in which He will take that creative work up again -- the 1st day of a New Creation week. According to God's calendar, the 8th day.

This is why Jesus rose from the dead on the 1st day of the week -- the firstfruits of those who will be resurrected bodily (he's the only One who's enjoyed this thus far). This is also why Pentecost occured on the 1st day of the week -- the Holy Spirit endwelling God's people as the Deposit of something greater to come (Eph 1:13-14; interesting point: the word "deposit" here is the word they would use for the engagement ring, the "promise" of something better for a future Bride).

In the OT, the 8th day represents covenant. In the NT, it represents New Creation.

It's interesting then, how Paul puts these two concepts together in Col 2:11-12.

In him you were also circumcised, in the putting off of the sinful nature, not with a circumcision done by the hands of men but with the circumcision done by Christ, having been buried with him in baptism and raised with him through your faith in the power of God, who raised him from the dead.

In baptism, both understandings of the 8th day come together. It is the mark of the covenant between us and God, and it is the sign and symbol of New Creation -- a preview of our future resurrection.

And so, just as the Jews needed to be faithful to the mark of their covenant (and not go lusting after pagan gods), so Christians are called to be faithful to theirs. What does this look like? Let's keep reading in Colossians:

Since, then, you have been raised with Christ, set your hearts on things above, where Christ is seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things. (3:1-2)

But now you must rid yourselves of all such things as these: anger, rage, malice, slander, and filthy language from your lips. Do not lie to each other, since you have taken off your old self with its practices and have put on the new self, which is being renewed in knowledge in the image of its Creator. (3:8-10)

Therefore, as God's chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. Bear with each other and forgive whatever grievances you may have against one another. Forgive as the Lord forgave you. And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity.

Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, since as members of one body you were called to peace. And be thankful. Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly as you teach and admonish one another with all wisdom, and as you sing psalms, hymns and spiritual songs with gratitude in your hearts to God. And whatever you do, whether in word or deed, do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him.
(3:12-17)

It's interesting how Paul talks here about community life: don't lie to or slander each other, but clothe yourselves with compassion and love, and let peace rule in your hearts. Whether or not we are faithful to the covenant we sealed at our baptism has a lot to do with how we treat one another.

Let's treat each other as we really are: brothers and sisters baptized into God's family and awaiting the 8th day together.

Unity is Found in Direction

There’s been a lot of talk about unity these days, and, along with many others, I welcome it. For too long has the Christian message been hampered by infighting among our own family. As Christians, our battle is not against flesh and blood, but we’ve been living as though it is – the flesh and blood meeting in the church building across the street.

Well-meaning Christian leaders have sought unity through creedal statements, which generally are so milquetoast they make a UN declaration seem forceful. Unity can’t be found there. Nor are they found in emotional declarations from the pulpit of a Promise Keepers rally or pastors conference. And while certain “fads” might be widespread throughout the evangelical world (think Jabez), the unity they bring is shallow and short-lived (anybody still wearing “Passion of the Christ” merchandise out there?)

No, true unity is found in direction.

Imagine all of Christendom as a rail yard. There are all sorts of different kinds of cars, each with its own particular cargo. And each of these cars is vital for the train. This train does not just carry one type of cargo, but wants to carry as many different kinds as possible. As the Christian movement moves, the train needs all sorts of cargo for the journey.

We need the charismatic cars to carry a sense of reliance upon the power of the Holy Spirit, as well as the expectation of great things from our Lord. We need the Calvinistic cars to carry for us the reminder of the majesty and sovereignty of our Lord, whenever we feel that we are the stars of this show. We need the liturgical cars to carry the awe and mystery of approaching God in worship, which some tend to make too much like political rallies or rock concerts. We need the Wesleyan cars to bring the importance of holiness and discipline, and the Restorationist cars to carry a commitment to the New Testament as the map for the journey.

When we connect all these different cars onto the same locomotive, the Holy Spirit which provides the needed energy, the momentum generated is enormous. It might even be enough to move a mountain.

The problem with the rail yard is that there are all sorts of tracks leaving the yard, in all sorts of different directions. Some tracks lead to relevance with the culture, where the train just becomes merely part of the broader cultural convoy – seeking political influence or merely “your best life now.” Some tracks lead to the idolatry of a compelling preacher, a long-dead founder, an ancient saint, or just the way “it used to be.” And some tracks lead to the morbid self-righteousness of legalism, where the silences of Scripture become basis for drawing boundaries around who’s “in” and who’s “out.”

While there are lot of different tracks for trains, all but one go to the same destination. “Wide is the road that leads to destruction, and many are they that travel it.”

I don’t know if God is much interested in creedal statements (He sure didn’t seem to include many – if any – is His book), but I do know that He is interested in our direction. The Bible is, after all, a travel book: Abraham’s journey of faith, Israel’s trip through the Sea and 7 times around the city of Jericho, there-and-back-again sojourns in Babylon, the Via Dolorosa of Christ, and the trip the gospel has taken from Jerusalem to Judea, Samaria, Athens, Rome, and the ends of the earth, and, finally, the promise of a future trip by Christ on a White Horse.

For unity to take place, then, the cars in Christendom’s rail yard don’t all have to carry the same cargo. No, they just have to be going in the same direction.

Therefore, whenever a church is serious about pursuing the One True God and Christ-likeness, I’ll link my car to theirs. Whenever a denomination makes their mission Christ’s mission – to take the gospel into all the earth, I won’t hesitate to join arms. You see, if I truly believe that the destination of Christ and the mission that He gave to His bride is more important than what I’m carrying in my car, then the differences we have will “grow strangely dim” in the light of His glory and grace.

Unity is not mere conformity, because that would deny the beautiful diversity within the body of Christ. How boring would the universal Church be if we all looked like one of the many wonderful variations. If we were all eyes, where would the sense of smell be? If we were all hands, how could we walk? But we must all be connected to the Head (here’s where doctrine comes in), and moving in His direction. Whoever is on that journey is my brother and sister, no matter what the sign in front of their building says.

“As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord.” Only God has a House and Table big enough for all of us to find room. In seeking His House, we’ll find who our true family is.

In the Light of Easter

Inquiring minds want to know: what is the relationship between the resurrection of Christ and big hats on ladies?

Easter is the Sunday when church feels like church -- like it should feel. Lillies all around, girls in floral dresses, pews filled with extended family members. Why can't it always be like this?

Our chapel minister keeps reminding us before most every chapel service of the best news possible: that Christ is alive. He has reminded us of this so often that it has become a bit of a joke to the heartless and cynical among us (the people I sit nearby in chapel). But it's true -- and it's true every moment. There is not a moments when Christ ceases to be fully and completely alive. But, unfortunately, there are many times when the Church does not seem to be alive, or full of joy.

Maybe our problem is that we are too dependant on outside stimulus -- we need upbeat music to make us joyful, or a stirring sermon to uplift our souls. The simple reflection of the "alive-ness" of Christ does not do this? What's wrong with us?

I know people who carry Easter around with them -- not the floral dresses and big hats, but the sentiment. The understanding that with another dawn is another day to enjoy Christ and serve Christ and learn from Christ. It's passion to live fully in light of Easter -- living like there's a billion tomorrows (because there is), but not worried about any of them (because there's no need to be). It's being fully alive in the "moment." Arrgh! I can't really describe it, so let's let Paul:

Wake up, O sleeper,
rise from the dead,
And Christ will shine upon you.

Be very careful, then, how you live -- not as unwise but as wise, making the most of every opportunity, because the days are evil.

I want to live this way -- more than that, I want to church to worship and serve and witness this way -- fully alive to Christ, fully aware of the greatness of God, fully submissive to His will.

It's too bad we have to wait for eternity to be all that we're meant to be, but we can get glimpses of it here. What is God calling me to do today? Right now? Probably get off the internet, so. . .

Holy Saturday

I think this is my favorite holiday of the Christian year -- the day of waiting. Christ takes His Sabbath day of rest in the tomb, and His few remaining followers are huddled together with no idea what would happen next.

It's easy to fall into despair on Saturday -- is God active? Does He hear us? Can He do anything about our predicament? We may shout and scream like the prophets of Ba'al on Carmel, but when the fire doesn't come (at least, the way we want it to come), it's easy to give up on God.

It takes great faith, then, to make it through Saturday -- the kind of faith that trusts God to provide twice the normal harvest in the 6th year so we can let the land rest awhile.

We need a Word to get through this day -- to build up the faith we need. So we read of the mighty acts of God. Surely this is the God who fights for us too, right? The God who parts seas and presses "pause" on the sun is the same God I'm praying to about my life and my pain. Waiting is so hard; I need reassurance. I need to know that everything's going to be all right.

I wonder what Peter and the disciples read on Saturday. I can imagine a lament psalm or two was voiced. "Why do the righteous suffer?" "Why are You so far from me?" Or, maybe, the reminder from the Preacher: "Meaningless, meaningless, everything is meaningless." Life seems meaningless on Saturday.

I suppose this is why we need the community of believers -- the body of Christ, the temple of the Holy Spirit. When God seems to be at rest is when I need my brother and sister to be close, reminding me that after the dark night of the soul comes morning. With God, there's always another morning.

So here we are: God at rest, and us huddled together waiting for the 8th day -- the 1st day of a New Creation week. Reading, praying, remembering, encouraging, witnessing. . . steadfast in our faith until God moves again.

Maranatha!

The Redemptive Power of Violence

I saw this article from ChristianityToday.com about how many of what we might consider "evangelical" scholars are shying away from the idea of atonement as penal substitution -- Jesus takes the wrath of God that should have been directed at us.

Two years after publishing his controversial book The Lost Message of Jesus (Zondervan, 2004), [Steve] Chalke wrote, "The church's inability to shake off the great distortion of God contained in the theory of penal substitution, with its inbuilt belief in retribution and the redemptive power of violence, has cost us dearly." Chalke and others say that substitution, at worst, produces a twisted justification of violence and encourages selfish, individualistic abuses of power.

The phrase "redemptive power of violence" is, to me, something that I can't shy away from (as much as I might want to). Think about Noah, think about Lot, think about the Israelites fleeing from the Egyptians. All of them would be grateful for the redemptive power of God's violence.

We tackled Revelation 15 in class today, where the people of God are standing beside the Sea of Glass and Fire, singing the Song of Moses and the Lamb. The Sea, for them, is an instrument of salvation -- they've been redeemed from the earth through following the Lamb to the end (14:4). But for the wicked, the Sea is the instrument of judgment -- for they will all be cast into it (or something like it) for all eternity.

Violence is part of God's program. The Israelites could not take the Promised Land as God desires them to do until they had completely annihilated the Canaanites. And it was their failure to do so that ultimately caused them to go into exile.

Our problem with this idea is that we put our feelings of violence upon God. Our violence is capricious, destructive, and self-serving. God's violence is righteous, redemptive, and God-serving. That's why He can get away with it, and we can't.

To me, this is the power and beauty of Good Friday: the day when God's righteous violence turned upon His Son. Christ endured the wrath that God that should have leveled on me. Unfortunately, the instrument of salvation will also be, for the wicked, the stone that makes them stumble (1 Pet 2:8) or folly to those who are perishing (1 Cor 1:18). The cross will be for them the instrument of their destruction.

"Surely this is the Son of God!" Oh, that more would say this with us, and be redeemed from God's coming wrath.

Daughter and Sister

Last night at the church I attend (I worship Saturday evening -- a theological justification will follow as soon as I think of one) we had a baptism, which is always great to see. This one in particular was cool.

A father was baptizing his 9-year-old daughter, and just before he did, he called her his "sister."

Will Willimon says that in the Christian faith, water is thicker than blood. While our physical DNA family is a wonderful gift from God, that which ties our spiritual "family" together -- namely the blood of Jesus and the Holy Spirit (seen so clearly in the 2 sacraments) -- is so much stronger.

And yet we would walk to hell and back for our physical family and not lift a finger for a Christian brother or sister. Something seems amiss.