From the Pulpit

The Gospel writer, Luke, concludes his account of the discovery of Jesus’s empty tomb with these words: “Peter got up and ran to the tomb; stooping and looking in, he saw the linen wrappings only; and he went away to his home, marvelling at what had happened” (24:12). This disciple was amazed, befuddled, and overwhelmed. His head was doubtlessly spinning with questions about what had just happened, the implications of what had just happened, and thoughts of what was about to happen because of what had just happened. “Could it be? Is my Lord actually alive?!”

Today we want to join Peter in marvelling at the reality of the empty tomb. Without risk of exaggeration it can be said that the resurrection of Jesus Christ is the single most earth-shaking, reality-defining, hope-providing, and response-demanding event in human history. Why is this so? Well, because the tomb was empty …

This morning we have walked with the Lord Jesus up to Calvary’s mount. Beginning with the prophets who predicted the coming of one who would endure agony in the place of those who actually deserve it, we then followed this Suffering Servant into the Upper Room where his inevitable death was commemorated in a meal, one which we then shared in remembrance of his sacrifice. We then followed Jesus from the fellowship of the last supper to the loneliness of the garden to the sting of his betrayal to the corruption of his trials and, finally, to the horrific injustice and brutality of his crucifixion.

Jesus did all of that for you and for me. Jesus left the glories of his heavenly throne room, condescending to take on suffocating flesh for you and for me. Jesus was mocked, hated, attacked, and rejected by the very people he came to save for you and for me. Why? And how are we to respond?

The Bible exhorts us to strive for peace, so far it depends on us (Romans 12,18). Sometimes we find ourselves in a situation where we offended, hurt or willfully sinned against someone else, where we need to apologize. Both apologies and forgiveness start in the hart, where a change of heart is needed for the offender, and the heart of the offended needs to be moved (that is what compassion is). Yet, how can we be sure that the words spoken as an apology reflect a change of heart and show true repentance? And does forgiveness depend on the depth of our repentance? In the parable of the Prodigal Son the Lord Jesus speaks to these questions in the context of sinners who repent and turn to God, with some practical applications for apologies and forgiveness between people.

Psalm 119 is a celebration of God’s word, its nature and purpose, its power and perfection, its necessity, sufficiency, reliability, and veracity. The Hebrew word for law, torah, is used thirty-six times in the Psalms, twenty-five of which are found in this particular Psalm. Add to that the many synonyms the author employs—God’s word, ways, testimonies, precepts, statutes, commandments, and judgements—and God’s word is explicitly mentioned 178 times in its 176 verses.

And while one might expect that a passage about God’s word would include a call to obey God’s word, there isn’t one. Instead, readers are given a model to obey not a command to obey. The psalmist, throughout this lengthy acrostic poem, presents himself, not as one in grim, slavish obligation to God’s law, but as one who loves and delights in God’s law, inviting all of God’s people to join him in his resolution to walk in God’s way.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer was a theologian who grew up during WWI. His older brother was killed in battle and his mother was irreparably shocked by the loss. Fear and morbidity filled their home. To cope with those years, Dietrich, along with his twin sister, Sabine, would put themselves to sleep each night thinking about heaven, repeating into the darkness a single word: eternity. They wanted to make it their only thought as they fell asleep. When he turned twelve and was given his own room, Dietrich would lie in his bed and tap the wall that separated the twins. It was his signal to his sister that meant, “Think of God. Lift your mind to heaven. Think of eternity.”

We too face much in our present world that can break our hearts, cause us fear, and steal our sleep. But Psalm 111 knocks on the bedroom wall of our lives and reminds God’s people to think of God, to lift our minds to heaven, and to think of eternity.

Every good and effective government must provide both laws to govern its citizenry and courts to represent its citizenry. If laws are absent, unarticulated, or unenforced, there is anarchy. If courts are corrupt, powerless, or inaccessible, there is tyranny.

God’s government promises both infallible regulation and unending representation for the good of its people. Foreshadowing this reality in the past, God gave ancient Israel kings from the tribe of Judah (Gen 49:10; Ps 60:7) and priests from the tribe of Levi (Ex 29:9; Deut 18:1–8), the former bringing divine authority to earth and the latter bringing human frailty to heaven.

But in Psalm 110, David, inspired by the Holy Spirit, predicts a coming time when these two necessary offices will reside eternally and perfectly in a single person. (Spoiler: he’s talking about Jesus!) God’s people need to be governed by God and represented before God and this psalm declares that that time is coming.

Worship is a central tenet, activity, posture, and goal for all believers. As one author has suggested, “Christian worship is the response of God’s redeemed people to his self-revelation that exalts God’s glory in Christ in our minds, affections, and wills, in the power of the Holy Spirit.” 

However we define and articulate this important concept, one thing must be clear: ultimately, worship is not about us—it’s about our God the King. Worship starts with God and responds to revelation from God. It’s directed at God in ways appropriate for God. Worship is empowered by God, brags about God, and is offered by those who belong to God as they’re drawn toward God to be made more like God. Worship is not about us. It’s about him. It’s our response to his beauty and mercy, his integrity and activity, his transcendence and his nearness. And Psalm 96 calls us to that type of worship, reminding us who we’re to worship, why we’re to worship, and how we’re to worship.

It’s hard to grow, improve, or mature without first being honest about the need for growth, the room for improvement, and the areas of immaturity. 

Being realistic is important for those who want to progress and, as a church family, that is exactly what we desire. We want to become a congregation that is used by God to lead more and more people from darkness into light. We want to be a people so being filled with the Holy Spirit that wounded, battered, discouraged, and questioning Christians can come and find healing care and restorative grace. We want to be an assembly that God increasingly uses to build up soldiers for Christ, strong, wise, and equipped for battle and to deploy those troops into the fray with surging effectiveness. Any church family that longs to grow in these tasks needs to be honest about ways they are failing, falling short, or being disobedient, and where they desperately need God to intervene, forgive, and restore.

The psalms are songs about life, sacred songs, but commentaries on life. The ups and downs, the good and the bad, the joys and sorrows. They afford so much wisdom about life as it was meant to be lived. They tug at our hearts, they challenge our ways, and they teach us good and godly things. Many of them were written by David, the king of Israel, as is Psalm 34. In it, he speaks of several godly habits. A habit is a repetitive behaviour, one that by its repetition requires less intention and planning. It thereby streamlines our day. 

For instance, I have a breakfast habit, the same breakfast every day. So I don’t have to get up in the morning and ponder the question, What shall I eat this morning? Without much mental stressing, I make the toast, put peanut butter, honey, and banana slices on it and then eat it along with a cup of coffee to wash it down. If you want the recipe I will gladly share it with you! So, breakfast is done!  Now on to issues which may require more deliberate planning. 

Habits can be good and habits can be bad. Perhaps at the outset of this year, you made a few resolutions, to get rid of some bad habits and to institute some good ones. How are you doing?    

The Christian life goes better when I have several good and godly habits, and repetitive behaviours that form the structure of my day. This is what David learned and this is what he shares in this Psalm.

After the predictably horrible reign of Saul, God hand-picked David to succeed him as king of Israel (1 Samuel 13:14). And David loved God, worshipped God, served God, and represented God. By all earthly measurements, David was a great man. But, as 2 Samuel 11:1–12:12 demonstrates, even the greatest of people still sin, sometimes dramatically. No one—no matter how mature they are in the Lord, how knowledgeable they are about the Lord, or how useful they’ve been to the Lord—is immune to temptation, disobedience, and moral shipwreck. 

We may never steal someone’s spouse or conspire to have someone killed as David did, but we all rebel against the God we claim to love. The question is, what do we do when we do? How should we respond to our own trespasses? How do we process our personal immorality and the accompanying guilt it brings before our God? Psalm 51 gives us a guide.