Sunday, July 22, 2012

Musings on 2 Peter (1:3-4)

3-4: His divine power has granted to us all things that pertain to life and godliness, through the knowledge of him who called us to his own glory and excellence, by which he has granted to us his precious and very great promises, so that through them you may become partakers of the divine nature, having escaped from the corruption that is in the world because of sinful desire.

These are some of the most amazing words in all of Scripture. Here is found the Gospel, the promise of the Gospel, the hope of the Gospel, and the glory of the Gospel all in one sentence. In seasons of doubt, these words are like warm water on cold hands, warm words to thaw shivering hearts. Indeed, these capsules of truth build us up and remind us that God is God. He is sovereign over all things. But He does not simply sit afar off governing history as a judge, presiding from a distant height, over the cases of men. Rather, He has come down from His chair, and has wrestled with us on our own soil. He has entered into the sphere of our lives and shown Himself not only to be God, but to be our God. He has given us Himself, and is immediately present with us at all times for He gave us both His very own book, and His very own Spirit. This is our God. In Him we live.

By the divine power of God we have been both justified and sanctified: all things that pertain to life and godliness. Both our life and our piety are gifts from the hand of divine power. These are not things we achieve in our own strength. As seen above, the dead man cannot learn to live by reading Grey's Anatomy, even if the book is read to him. And if he cannot learn to live by reading, then he certainly can't learn to live well by reading either. The strength is not in us to do this thing. This is not accomplished by any means we ourselves possess. In our own strength we lie dead. Deader than dead, for we were not simply victims of death, caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. We were active servants of death, partaking in its unholy nature. To escape it was neither in our power nor in our desires. But here we see the kindness of our God. We have been pulled up out of the grave. The strongman has been bound and gagged, and sits against the wall waiting for his doom. As he sits he witnesses his own devilish house being plundered, goods not of his making, but only of his marring, being taken away. We were rescued and brought home. We chose death. Our great God chose us for life.

And this life is given to us. Life that can no longer live in filth. And so our piety is given to us as well. One confusion that plagues reformed churches in our day concerns our belief in total depravity. We understand well enough that every aspect of our humanness is touched by the fall, and therefore every aspect of our humanness must be redeemed by the blood of Jesus. The confusion comes when we start believing in continuing depravity. By His stripes we are healed. Our sins are forgiven, the old man has been put to death, and our inability to obey has been taken away. Furthermore an active desire to obey has been given to us. But we Calvinists sometimes like to pick at scabs. We sit in the corner, head buried in our chest, wanting so much to be like the publican and not the priest, we forget that he stood up, and walked home justified. Yes, you have sinned. Yes, you continue to sin. But it is forgiven. It is washed. Your God would have you know peace and joy. There is not one unforgiven sin you will commit. So rest, dear sinner. Allow the scabs to heal. The more you pick, the more you will scar.

We need the divine power to wash over us like a wave, breaking on the shores of our stubborn hearts. He has given to us everything, and everything we need for life and godliness has been given to us. We return to knowledge. Through the knowledge of Him who called us we were given these things. Through the gift of hearing His voice we were given even more. This knowledge we did not stumble upon, as one walking in the forest at night might trip over a fallen tree. Rather, in this word picture, we are the fallen tree, uprooted and dead. Christ came walking through the dark night of our soul and sang words of life into our limbs. What was the theme of His song? Glory and excellence. This is what we are called to. But praise our God and Father that He does not leave us to find this glory alone. We are not blindfolded, spun three times in a circle, and pointed in a line just left of the donkey. We are called to enter into His very own life and piety, His glory and His excellence. This is not a location we can find. It is destination He is bringing us to.

But Peter speaks in the past tense. So this must mean that even though we don't see glory and excellence with our fallen eyes, indeed, all we see is our own sin, it must remain true. And surely this is the beauty of the Gospel. The precious and very great promises that have been made to us are solid and can be taken to the bank. By means of these promises we partake in the divine nature of our God. Even though we remain in fallen flesh, and physically the check has yet to clear, simply possessing the promissory note propels us into the nature of God. This does not mean we become gods ourselves, nor does it mean that the Creator/Creature distinction somehow evaporates. We remain finite, and God infinite. But what it does mean is that we, by grace through faith, learn to have the same posture as God. How does He see this world? How does He view sin and rebellion? What does He love? How does He love? These questions get to the heart of His glory and His excellence. His posture towards all things is an outworking of who He is. As we are brought into His nature, we are made like Him, and so take on this same attitude toward others. As Paul says, we are to work out what He is working in. It becomes clear then that we cannot remain in our filth, nor can we remain in a perpetual state of contemplation over it. There is too much to be done. Yes, manure stinks. But our Farmer God has deemed it right and good to use the manure we are to fertilize His world. We are to be agents of growth and plenty. Once we were manure. Now we begin to bear fruit. But we cannot expect fruit to appear all at once, nor can we expect the oder of manure to immediately disappear. These things take time. And so the span of 70 years is given to man, and by reason of strength, 80. Our life here and now is the adolescent stage of an apple tree. We are growing toward something full and lovely. We are pruned and clipped and cut back. But in this training time we find purpose and meaning. The gold has no ground to resent the fire of the forge, nor the apple the gardener's knife. Rather than resent it, we rejoice in it, for we see with eyes of faith the life it brings us to.

We have escaped, we have been rescued from the decay that is in this world by means of lust. Again, we still sin. But no longer are we held captive, bound in chains, languishing in that house of corruption. The strongman himself was bound, past tense. His house plundered, past tense. We, the goods of the strongman, were rescued, past tense. Now, present tense, we are free. So what does this mean for us here and now? What the knowledge of Him whose glory and excellence we are being brought into gives us is the freedom to look past the sin in our lives and see the goodness and kindness of our God. It gives us the eyes to see our God using us as a farmer uses a scythe. It widens our perspective and gives us both assurance in our future glory, and confidence in our purpose here in this wide field, full of ripe, unharvested wheat.

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