Tag Archives: Sin

Richard Sibbes, The Backsliding Sinner, 5.3 (wound and disease)

13 Friday May 2022

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How Sibbes develops the understanding of sin as a “wound and disease.” He begins with a partial observation on it is like to suffer a disease:

Now, as in sickness there is, 1, grief troubling and vexing the party who feels it; and, 2, deformity of the place affected, which comes by wounds and weaknesses;

This description is then applied from the metaphor to the original. If a disease in the body causes vexation and deformity, then so does sin. But sin, rather than troubling the body alone, troubles the mind and the body:

so in all sin, when we are sensible of it, there is first grief, vexation, and torment of conscience, and then, again, deformity. For it takes away the beauty and vigour of the soul, and dejects the countenance. It debaseth a man, and takes away his excellency.… So that sin is a wound and a disease, whether we consider the miseries it brings on soul and body, or both

It has always been the case that some sin or another is not a cause for shame in the culture but rather a boast. In some ages, extraordinary violence is a cause for praise; in others, greed; in others, lust. It is not just that such sins have always existed among us; it is that certain sins become a cause for praise. But to God, no amount of human praise will undo the deformity of sin:

Therefore, howsoever a sinful person think himself a goodly person, and wear his sins as ornaments about him, pride, lust, and the like, yet he is a deformed, loathsome person in the eyes and presence of God;

This judgment, “when the conscience is awakened” becomes our own evaluation of our own sin.

And when conscience is awakened, sin will be loathsome, irksome, and odious unto himself, fill him full of grief and shame, so that he cannot endure the sight of his own soul.

The language when “awakened” is important to understand. It is not bare conscience alone which is the judge of all things. On this point Bloesch writes:

The inner light or the light of conscience also reflects the indissoluble mystery of the divine in the human. Conscience is both the voice of Christ and the superego. Only a conscience that is captive to the Word of God (Luther) is absolutely normative for the Christian. Conscience is not so much a criterion as a clarification of the truth of faith (Ellul). Moreover, conscience can be lost with the demise of faith (1 Tim 1:19–20 NIV). Like the church it can be seared and maimed (1 Tim 4:2), but so long as the believer is linked with Christ in the mystery of faith, conscience will always be somewhat of a guide on the pilgrimage of faith.

The Enlightenment severed conscience from faith in the living God, elevating it to an independent criterion that actually opposed the claims of faith. This new understanding is to be found in Rousseau: “Conscience! Conscience! Divine instinct, immortal voice from heaven; sure guide for a creature ignorant and finite indeed, yet intelligent and free; infallible judge of good and evil, making man like to God!”40 It is also reflected in the idealist philosopher Fichte: “Conscience alone is the root of all truth: whatever is opposed to conscience, or stands in the way of the fulfillment of her behests, is assuredly false.”

Donald G. Bloesch, A Theology of Word & Spirit: Authority & Method in Theology (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 2005), 201.

Continuing with the metaphor of disease, Sibbes continues that our current disease of sin flows from the hereditary disease of Adam’s sin:

Now, all sins whatsoever are diseases. The first sin of all sins, which we call hereditary, original sin, what was it but an hereditary disease? Now, all other particular, actual sins be diseases flowing from hence.

What are the sources of our diseases: flesh (ourselves), the world (others), the devil.[1]

So that all diseases in this kind arise either, 1, from ourselves, as we have a seminary of them in our own hearts; or else, 2, from the infection and contagion of others; or, 3, from Satan, who hath society with our spirits, as men have with the outward man, coming in by his suggestions, and our entertaining of them. So that in that respect sin is like unto a wound and a disease, in regard of the cause of them.

Having consider causes of this disease, he now turns to the effects of considered as a disease. A disease left unchecked will kill: “And, in regard of the effects, sin is like a disease. Diseases, if they be neglected, breed death itself, and become incurable. So it is with the diseases and sins of the soul. Neglect them, and the best end of them will be despair in this world.“

Sibbes does not wait unti the end of the sermon to make his application. The constant movement of his preaching is to make a point and then apply it. Sin is a disease which will kill us. He then immediately moves to the cure: “Whereupon we may have advantage to fly unto the mercy of God in Christ. This is the end of sin, either to end in a good despair or in a fruitless barren despair, at the hour of death leading to hell, when they have no grace to repent. ‘The wages of sin is death,’ &c., Rom. 6:23.“

In this section, Sibbes is seeking to obtain an emotional effect. He does this by using figures of expansion and repetition. Notice how often he repeats the words “disease” and “sin” and “wound”. Following that, he gives a series of six questions, all which use the form, “What is X … but”:

Sin itself is a wound, and that which riseth from sin is a wound too, doubting and despair; for this disease and wound of sin breeds that other disease, a despair of mercy, which is the beginning of hell, the second death. These things might be further enlarged. But for the present only in general know that sin is a disease and a wound of the soul; so much worse than the diseases of the body, by how much the soul is more precious than it, and the death of the soul more terrible than the death of the body.

Sin is a disease and a wound; for

what is pride but a swelling?

What is anger but an intemperate heat of the soul, like an ague, as it were?

What is revenge but a wildfire in the soul?

What is lust but a spreading canker in the soul, tending to a consumption?

What is covetousness but a sword, a perpetual wounder of the soul, piercing it through with many sorrows?

What is security but, as it were, the lethargy and apoplexy of the soul?

At this point, he anticipates a question:

Quest. But, it may be demanded, how shall we know that we are sick of this sickness and disease you speak of?

This is interesting: we can know our spiritual state from the nature of our affections or “passions” (emotions). The Puritans, and those who followed in their wake, had an intense concern with the nature of human emotion:

Ans. How do we know that we are sick in body? If the body be extreme cold we know there is a distemper, or if it be extreme hot. So if the soul be so extreme cold that no heavenly motives or sweet promises can work upon it, stir it up, then certainly there is a disease upon the soul.

If the soul be inflamed with revenge and anger, that soul is certainly diseased. The temper of the soul is according to the passions thereof. A man may know by his passions when he hath a sick soul.

He then develops this idea by means of the analogy. Look at the human body. A man must be very sick to be unaware of what is taking place in his body. The same with the soul: a must be very spiritually sick when he is unaware of what is taking place spiritually or morally. In particular, again, working through the analogy to the body, an inability to respond to the Word of God is evidence of sickness, “And there is certainly some sickness, some dangerous obstruction in that soul that cannot digest the wholesome word of God, to make use of it; some noisome lust then certainly obstructs the soul, which must be purged out.”

Now if this is sickness then the greatest sickness must be not merely an inability to use the Word of God, but even more refuse it:

It is a pitiful thing to see the desperate condition of many now, who, though they live under the tyranny of sin, yet flatter their own disease, and account them their greatest enemies who any way oppose their sick humour. What do they most cordially hate? The sound preaching of the word.

After having developed that theme at some length he comes to the end of such a state. The desire to live without limitation on my desires (and thus without the Word of God) is the worst of all possible states:

O that I might live as I list, that I might have what would content my pleasures without control, that I might have no crosses, but go smoothly on! Yet this, which is the desire of most men, is the most cursed estate of all, and most to be lamented. Thus it appeareth sin is a wound and a disease. What use may we make of it?

[1] Friend, if God hath thy negative obedience, some other hath thy positive,—for I cannot suppose thee idle all the time of thy life,—either the devil, or the world, or the flesh; man cannot live without a master, whose work and business he will do

George Swinnock, The Works of George Swinnock, M.A., vol. 5 (Edinburgh; London; Dublin: James Nichol; James Nisbet and Co.; G. Herbert, 1868), 397.

Edward Taylor, Meditation 36.2 What strange strange thing am I?

05 Friday Nov 2021

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To find thee Lord thus overflowing kind

A t’find me thine, thus overflowing vile,

A riddle seems unrivetted I find.

This reason saith is hard to reconcile

Does vileness choose? Or can’t thy kindness shown

Me meliorate? Am I not thine own?

The kindness of God toward the sinner, and the vileness of the sinner on the other creates a paradox: a riddle which the poet cannot seem to resolve. Why does this knowledge of God’s grace not effectuate a greater degree or change?

Taylor raises this as three questions, which he will consider at more length. 

First question: Does vileness choose? The question is a bit unclear because it not immediately apparent what is chosen. I would take it that by saying vileness has a power of choice is that vileness would then be said to control the will. What exactly there is terms of ideas moving from Taylor, through J Edwards’ father to Jonathan himself I do not know. But in his work The Freedom of the Will, Edwards puts the power of controlling the will in the power of choice. There is some coherence in the thought from Taylor to Edwards.

Does the evil inclination have the full power over even the one who knows the grace of God?

Second question: Is the grace of God insufficient to work a transformation in the believer’s heart? “Or can’t thy kindness shown/Me meliorate?” Is the kindness of God insufficient to work a change. The language here seems to allude to Romans 2:4

Or despisest thou the riches of his goodness and forbearance and longsuffering; not knowing that the goodness of God leadeth thee to repentance?

The kindness of God was meant to lead to repentance, which necessarily entails change. But looking at himself he fails to see the degree of transformation, of repentance which thinks would have necessarily followed. 

This leads to the third question: Am I not thine own? There is a possibility that the reason transformation has not taken place is the poet is not transformed. To be truly “born again” (or born from above, in the language of John 3), entails a fundamental transformation: a heart of flesh is exchanged for a heart of stone.

Something must be done beyond bare performance of particular rites. It would be possible to be one who has done a great deal and yet not be truly redeemed. Jesus near the conclusion of the Sermon on the Mount says

Matthew 7:21–23 (ESV)

21 “Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but the one who does the will of my Father who is in heaven. 22 On that day many will say to me, ‘Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name, and cast out demons in your name, and do many mighty works in your name?’ 23 And then will I declare to them, ‘I never knew you; depart from me, you workers of lawlessness.’

So the three possibilities are: The sinful has the greater power. The grace of God cannot actually effectuate change. Or, the grace of God has no effect in the poet’s life, because poet has not been redeemed by God. 

The line, A riddle seems unrivetted I find, deserves some consideration. If the riddle is not fastened into place, unriveted, then it seems the riddle does not have much staying power. The riddle will simply drift off.

The riddle is unriveting: it is disturbing. The effect of the riddle is that it is unriveted, it is disturbing this is the third of three things he “finds”. He find God’s grace, his own sin, and an unriveting riddle.

[1] To find thee Lord thus overflowing kind

[2] A t’find me thine, thus overflowing vile,

[3] A riddle seems unrivetted I find.

This particular poem is proving to be difficult, even for Taylor. But perhaps the difficulty is part of the meaning of the poem. He is dealing with a matter which he cannot quite understanding: what is this persistence of sin in his life. It is irrational and contradictory. The poem itself is twisted and hard to understand.

Edward Taylor, Meditation 31, Begraced With Glory.3

06 Saturday Feb 2021

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Seen at 107 South Street, NY, NY; https://www.instagram.com/dirtcobain/

Oh! Sad-sad thing! Satan is now turned cook:

Sin is the sauce he gets for every dish.

I cannot bite a bit of bread or root (15)

But what is sopped therein and venomish.

Right’s lost in what’s my right. Hence I do take

Only what’s poisoned by the th’infernal snake.

Summary: Now every experience, everything which the poet experiences has been imbued with sin, which he refers to as “poison” or “venom.”

Notes: That Satan is referred to as a serpent is undisputed. In Genesis 3, the Tempter – although not explicitly referred to as Satan – is referred to as the Serpent, the most crafty of subtle beasts of the field (the field was the world outside the Garden). In Revelation 20:2, Satan is explicitly referred to as “that ancient serpent.”

The imagery of Satan as a cook is interesting and unusual. I cannot find any references to Satan as a cook. But, the image is on point because the original sin was brought about through eating. He did provide a dish for Adam and Eve. 

Use of this image then makes for a fascinating overlay with original sin. That fruit from the Garden has now become an overlay for all subsequent human action. 

All life must be lived in a manner which entails loving God with all heart, soul, mind, and strength. And no action of a human being ever approximates such a level of devotion. It is impossible for post-fall human conduct to ever be perfect. 

This actually makes for a fascinating contrast with the current social mobs which attack any deviancy from orthodox thought and conduct. These mobs allow for zero tolerance, zero grace. But in contrast: Paul persecuted the Church; Peter denied Christ; David committed adultery and murder; et cetera. These are our saints. Taylor will get to the inexplicable grace of God – which so contrasts with the judgment of human beings.

Note also that this is not merely sinful but is poisonous: it is filled with venom. Thus, while it is food and desirable; it is also poisonous and spells my death.

Of special note must be the word “sopped”:

Oh! Sad-sad thing! Satan is now turned cook:

Sin is the sauce he gets for every dish.

I cannot bite a bit of bread or root

But what is sopped therein and venomish.

What is so perfect about the word is not merely the sound, but the meaning. Sin as a sauce has been poured over all of his food. He is not merely content to the sauce as it happens to be on his meat: he next uses bread to sop up all the remainders. What a vicious and brilliant vision of sin. 

Musical: I rather like this stanza.

Look at all the alliteration on “s”: 

Sad, sad, satan, sin, sause, diSh, sopped, venomISH, rightS, lost, 

 The phrase, “Sin is the Sause” is wonderfully balanced in concept, rhythm, and sound

SIN is the SAUCE

The first line SAD SAD THING SATan: the slow beat, the repetition of not merely S, but SA. “Sad thing” is a near rhyme to “Satan”

The third line of the santza switches to B and R and makes for a wonderful contrast to the sibilant S

I cannot bite a bit of bread or root

But

The alliteration draws the words together. The near rhyme of bite-bit, the movement from B to R in Bite, Bit, BRead, Root is brilliant.

Here it is again:

Oh! Sad-sad thing! Satan is now turned cook:

Sin is the sauce he gets for every dish.

I cannot bite a bit of bread or root

But what is sopped therein and venomish.

Right’s lost in what’s my right. Hence I do take

Only what’s poisoned by the th’infernal snake.

Edward Taylor, Meditation 31, Begraced with Glory.2

02 Tuesday Feb 2021

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Stanza 2

But as a crystal glass, I broke, and lost
That grace, and glory I was fashion’d in
And cast this rosy world with all its cost
Into the dunghill pit and puddle sin. (10)
All right I lost in all good things, and each
I had did hand a vein of venom in.

Summary: This stanza recounts the fall. Here again, Taylor puts himself into Adam’s story and casts himself as the culprit. “I” am the one who broke the crystal glass. I cast “this rosy world” into the “dunghill.” The “rosy world” is taken over from the first stanza.

He has lost all “right” (that is as in a right in) all that is good. And now all that he has is shot through with “venom.” Venom is a reference to Genesis 3:

Genesis 3:1 (AV) Now the serpent was more subtil than any beast of the field which the LORD God had made. And he said unto the woman, Yea, hath God said, Ye shall not eat of every tree of the garden?

Notes: The reference to this sinful earth in terms of a “dunghill” was a commonplace in English Puritan writing, such as:

First, here is their portion, they are never like to have any other consolation, but that they have here, here is their All. This is as it were their Kingdom; They are upon their own dunghil.

Jeremiah Burroughs, Moses His Choice, with His Eye Fixed upon Heaven: Discovering the Happy Condition of a Self-Denying Heart (London: John Field, 1650), 100. The reference to sin and puddles is also not unknown, though less common. For instance:

One sin may keep possession for Satan, and hinder Jesus Christ from his right—I mean, from sitting on the throne and swaying the sceptre of thy soul. Wallowing in one puddle defiles the body, and tumbling in one piece of filthiness defiles the soul.

George Swinnock, The Works of George Swinnock, M.A., vol. 5 (Edinburgh; London; Dublin: James Nichol; James Nisbet and Co.; G. Herbert, 1868), 454. A striking similarity to Taylor’s use in this stanza is found in Thomas Adams, The Fatal Banquet (the first sermon), found in volume 1 of his collected works at page 169: “Sin is, like water, of a ponderous, crass, gross, stinking, and stinking nature.”

Musical: The g’s of the first stanza, glory, grace, gold, here appears only as what has been lost: the broken glass, the fled glory and grace, the good which is gone.

The meter is regular until the last two lines:

All right I lost in all good things, and each
I had did hand a vein of venom in.

Two things are interesting here. The 11th line can be read as a regular line: all RIGHT i LOST. But it also works with an accent on ALL: ALL right I LOST in ALL GOOD things.

Also pause coming between the 8th and 9th syllables creates a run-on, where the last two syllables are essentially unaccented and the entire line runs into the line. As explained on the Poetry Foundation website, this is known as “Enjambment: The running-over of a sentence or phrase from one poetic line to the next, without terminal punctuation; the opposite of end-stopped.”

Effect: The effect of this stanza is to create a sense of both loss, disgust and anger. There is the loss of the “rosy world”; but this loss was not at the hands someone else: I did this.

The use of the I puts the reader in an interesting place, because the I becomes the reader while reading the poem: I – not Taylor – am the one who lost this world.

But this also is to incur disgust. The beautiful world has been lost and now what was glorious is now a pestilent puddle.

A Comparison of Tennyson and Edward Taylor

26 Friday Jun 2020

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(This lovely picture is entitled “Alaska Moonlight” by JLS Photography.)

St. Agnes’ Eve by Tennyson forms an interesting counterpart to the Taylor’s Was There a Palace of Pure Gold (Meditation 24).  Both poems are driven by the desire to be with God.  

Both concern a present a present desire to be with God and the need to be fit for such a translation. But despite the similar concern the effect and content of both poems is remarkably different. 

The First Stanza:

Deep on the convent-roof the snows 

Are sparkling to the moon: 

My breath to heaven like vapour goes; 

May my soul follow soon! 

The shadows of the convent-towers 

Slant down the snowy sward, 

Still creeping with the creeping hours 

That lead me to my Lord: 

Make Thou my spirit pure and clear 

As are the frosty skies, 

Or this first snowdrop of the year 

That in my bosom lies. 

Summary: The poet is perhaps a nun of some sort “the convent-roof”; or at least a deeply religious person. One a cold night, while looking over the moonlight snow, the poet’s breath fogs and lifts toward heaven. That leads to a thought of the poet’s soul likewise ascending:

My breath to heaven like vapour goes; 

May my soul follow soon! 

In this desire to be with God, the present time consists of “shadow” and “creeping hours”.  Thus, the prayer that the poet’s spirit may ascend. Like Taylor the poet prays that the soul be purified, “Make thou my spirit pure and clear.” But unlike Taylor there is no meditation on one’s own sinfulness. In fact, the sense is different. The poet’s mediation is made a convent and the sense is a cold, chaste, unworldly desire. 

There are two other marked differences between the poets. Taylor rhythm and imagery are complex, contradictory, often jarring. But Tennyson writes great polish. 

The rhythm is meticulous held in check to draw attention precisely as the poet intends:

DEEP on the CONvent-ROOF the SNOWS 

Are SPARKling TO the MOON: 

My BREATH to HEAven like VAPour GOES; 

MAY my SOUL FOLlow SOON! 

The initial deep slows down the entire scene. The line break, the semicolon and the two accented syllables slow down the movement of the verse and throw the emphasis on the initial syllable of the prayer, “MAY”. 

The imagery is all of a picture: nothing which is not organic to the scene intrudes. A cold night, the snow, the moon, the freezing breath are all of the same event.  

Taylor by contrast would draw together images which have a certain conceptual link, even if in “nature” they would never be found together. Taylor would bring together any number of beautiful images, even if those images have no natural correspondence in the “real world.” I could image Taylor writing of moonlight and the glint of a fish’s scales and the sunshine and a white flower and a ruby, because they all flash light: eventhough sun and moon can never both shine at once.

Here is another similarity to Taylor. Tennyson’s prayer acknowledges an unfitness for heaven, robes are “soiled”, the candle is pale, earthy. Taylor would rail and bemoan his unfitness. Tennyson is more Platonic and less moral. Tennyson sees the physical body as an ontological impediment. Taylor seems the human trouble as more profound.  Both speak of new clothes, but Taylor is more desperate and disgusted. Tennyson sees the current trouble being merely the need for an invitation to ascend:

As these white robes are soil’d and dark, 

To yonder shining ground; 

As this pale taper’s earthly spark, 

To yonder argent round; 

So shows my soul before the Lamb, 

My spirit before Thee; 

So in mine earthly house I am, 

To that I hope to be. 

Break up the heavens, O Lord! and far, 

Thro’ all yon starlight keen, 

Draw me, thy bride, a glittering star, 

In raiment white and clean. 

When Tennyson comes to the doors of heaven, he will be cleared of “sin”; it will be a purging at that time and place,

For me the Heavenly Bridegroom waits, 

To make me pure of sin. 

Taylor too sees the need for the work to be on God’s side: “Oh! That my heart was made thy golden box.” And both see that they will be admitted by God’s grace. But there is one point on which they profoundly differ:

He lifts me to the golden doors; 

The flashes come and go; 

All heaven bursts her starry floors, 

And strows her lights below, 

And deepens on and up! the gates 

Roll back, and far within 

For me the Heavenly Bridegroom waits, 

To make me pure of sin. 

The sabbaths of Eternity, 

One sabbath deep and wide— 

A light upon the shining sea— 

The Bridegroom with his bride! 

In Tennyson’s poem, the one who is praying has no conflict in the passions. The desire to be God is perfect and consistent: just like the flow of the poem’s language. All of is a consistent piece. The poet desires to be God. The poet trusts that God will work and raise the poet up. 

Taylor too has faith in God’s work and a desire to be God. But in Taylor there is a profound sense of the conflict and inconsistency of religious desire.  

Tennyson’s prayer contains no conflicting emotion.  The covenant towers which reach up toward heaven cast moon-shadows upon the earth. Time on earth creeps. The breath and soul ascend to God by their own nature movement. 

Taylor objectively sees how much better it is to be with God. But then he sees the conflicting desires of his heart which also seeks the earth. Taylor confesses to a desire contrary to God. Taylor is in love with the earth. The breath ascends upward from the convent. But Taylor would also be thinking of the warm bed which waits within, and of the good meal waiting in the morning.

Tennyson’s poem is the prayer of a “saint” who experiences no contrary desire. It is far more beautiful than Taylor’s conflicted mess. Tennyson’s saint would never call herself, “More blockish than a block.” She is a saint, after all. 

But that I thinks makes Taylor’s poem more honest. Tennyson’s saint has achieved a sort of earthly perfection. While Taylor’s penitent is horrified at his conflicted hearts which desires those things which are at odds with his own happiness. As John writes, “If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves and the truth is not in us.”

Tennyson’s saint admits to some lurking imperfect, but the poem does not express that terrified sense of sin which makes up Taylor’s meditations.

Submission to Unjust (or perhaps Foolish) Authority and the Lockdown Order

16 Saturday May 2020

Posted by in 1 Peter, Apologetics, Culture, Politics, Uncategorized

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How seriously should I take the lockdown orders from my county? How seriously should I consider the consequence of disregarding the orders? Is it a trivial matter? It is there any real sin at stake?

[First caveat: I am considering a mere disregard for the law — not appropriate challenges to the law. There are a number of appropriate challenges to a law.  For instance, a lawsuit against the local authority on the grounds that the law in question is unconstitutional on equal protection for first amendment grounds would not be disregard of the law. Petitioning the local authority to revise the law would not be disregard. 

[Second Caveat: There is a moral case to be made against the law on the economic cost. There could even be a case to be made that in some circumstances, disregard of the law is necessary to preserve life. The moral case would require a different analysis and presents different consideration.]

The easiest way out would be merely to say this is no big deal. And perhaps as an ultimate matter, the stakes are inconsequential and no one will be immediately hurt by disobedience. But that decision was not given to me to make. First, I am not tasked with the civil authority to make such a decision. Second, there is plain direction from Scripture on my duty to obey the law. So, I cannot merely say this is at most a “little sin” (I will come back to this point, below.)

Let us assume for the sake of argument that the lockdown orders are unfair, poorly conceived and poorly executed. What is my responsibility as a Christian?

As an American, ignoring leaders and laws I dislike seems like a fundamental right. “Don’t Tread on Me” is in the history of the country. To be submissive to authority sounds like weakness or foolishness.

There is also the innate human desire for autonomy. When we first come into this world, we come as tyrants demanding submission from all whom come near.

And so adhering to rules which I think are foolish or wrong makes me feel like a sucker. Why would I willingly surrender any authority to the petty tyrants who see fit to control my life?

And so, the wisest response seems to be to just disregard the rule when it seems overwhelming ridiculous.

In addition, when the rule sees ridiculous or unwarranted, the easiest understanding of the rule is that is simply too silly to be obeyed.

In the instance of the lockdown, the stakes are ostensibly life-and-death. Whether the rules instituted actually will help in that regard; and whether the threat is actually life and death (or at least sufficiently dangerous that extraordinary measures are needed). Thus, the concern is extreme; even if the means to protect against that concern are absurd.

Perhaps it will be learned that the lockdown regime was as effective as smoke was in protecting against the Black Plague.

So for argument’s sake let us stipulate that the rules are somewhere between non-effective to excessively restrictive. Perhaps the rules are brilliant, but the argument will be clearer if the rules are simply wrong.

And so, may I disregard laws which I think are foolish, ineffective, or annoying? My political instincts and education and the default positions of Americans (as is readily apparent from both sides of the aisle, depending upon the ruler and the law) is that I may and perhaps should disregard the dumb laws – or at least laws I dislike.

That is one side of the argument, but I don’t believe it can be supported from the Scripture.

In First Peter, the apostle begins a long discussion of submission in verse 13 of chapter two. The general rule is given in verse 13,

1 Peter 2:13–14 (ESV)

13 Be subject for the Lord’s sake to every human institution, whether it be to the emperor as supreme, 14 or to governors as sent by him to punish those who do evil and to praise those who do good.

The command is exceedingly clear: submit, put yourself in subjection to the authorities.

As Paul writes in Romans 13, all governmental authority has been instituted by God. Rom. 13:1. It is sufficient to observe that Peter and Paul both set down this rule with respect to a government which condemned both Peter and Paul to death:

Nero was emperor when St. Peter wrote. Christians were to obey even him, wicked tyrant as he was; for his power was given him from above, as the Lord himself had said of Pilate

H. D. M. Spence-Jones, ed., 1 Peter, The Pulpit Commentary (London; New York: Funk & Wagnalls Company, 1909), 73. Unless some other rule specifically makes for an exception, this rule stands absolute.

And yes there is an exception to the law: the government has no right to make us sin. The example of Daniel continuing to pray even when the law forbade his prayers is the right example. Daniel prayed despite the law; and Daniel accepted the consequence of his disobedience.

The command is quite clear, and so is the rationale, “For the Lord’s sake.” There are two aspects of this rationale. First, our obedience to a governmental authority “for the Lord’s sake” is ultimately obedience to the Lord. This aspect is made plain in verse 16:

1 Peter 2:16 (ESV)

Live as people who are free, not using your freedom as a cover-up for evil, but living as servants of God.

Our obedience to the authority is not because we consider our primary allegiance to that authority: we are free people. But our freedom also makes us servants of God. Or as the NASB has it “bondslaves of God.” The Christian is absolutely bound to the direction of Christ. And thus, if the Lord has given a command, we have no discretion in the matter. [An issue in the lockdown order is whether the stay home orders conflict with a duty to corporate worship.]

This leads to the rationale for obedience found in Paul. As he explains in Roman, obedience to the authority is grounded on the proposition that God has instituted the authority.

Peter, however, adds an additional rationale: as a witness to the authorities and to the world.

In verse 15, Peter writes:

1 Peter 2:15 (ESV)

For this is the will of God, that by doing good you should put to silence the ignorance of foolish people.

Peter’s concern is for the public witness of the Christian. This is a thought that goes back to verse 12:

1 Peter 2:12 (ESV)

Keep your conduct among the Gentiles honorable, so that when they speak against you as evildoers, they may see your good deeds and glorify God on the day of visitation.

The “Lord’s sake” of verse 13 is the public demonstration that we willing lay down even our freedom for the sake of something more important, our testimony that our concern is God’s glory “on the day of visitation.”

The concept here is that by our obedience to human authority, we remove any ground that anyone could speak ill of our behavior.

Peter’s point is that Christians are called upon to be as obedient to the government as possible so as to remove any argument against Christ:

By submitting to government, Christians demonstrate that they are good citizens, not anarchists. Hence, they extinguish the criticisms of those who are ignorant and revile them. Such ignorance is not innocent but culpable, rooted in the foolishness of unbelievers.

Thomas R. Schreiner, 1, 2 Peter, Jude, vol. 37, The New American Commentary (Nashville: Broadman & Holman Publishers, 2003), 130. As Christians we are called upon to willingly set aside ground for disobedience to governing authorities because have a duty to remove any possible ground for anyone to speak ill of us.

Do I really want to violate an inconvenient law if the effect would be give anyone a reason to slander Christ?

If we Christians are hated, then we must not be hated because we have disobeyed the authorities. If we suffer, then let us suffer as a Christian for being a Christian:

1 Peter 4:14–15 (ESV)

14 If you are insulted for the name of Christ, you are blessed, because the Spirit of glory and of God rests upon you. 15 But let none of you suffer as a murderer or a thief or an evildoer or as a meddler.

To underscore and explain his point concerning obedience to authorities Peter sets out a series of examples. First, he speaks of slaves who are mistreated, even physically beaten for unjust cause:

1 Peter 2:18–20 (ESV)

18 Servants, be subject to your masters with all respect, not only to the good and gentle but also to the unjust. 19 For this is a gracious thing, when, mindful of God, one endures sorrows while suffering unjustly. 20 For what credit is it if, when you sin and are beaten for it, you endure? But if when you do good and suffer for it you endure, this is a gracious thing in the sight of God.

Notice how Peter describes the master: “unjust” (NASB, “unreasonable”). The suffering is “unjust”. The result is a “beating.” The cause of the beating is having done “good.” The slave did what was “good” and was beaten by an unjust master.

The slave is called upon to endure the beating in patience, “because this is a gracious thing in the sight of God.”

The second example given is Christ suffering unjustly. Christ did not revile when he was reviled (1 Peter 2:23). Rather, Christ turned the response over to God:

1 Peter 2:23 (ESV)

When he was reviled, he did not revile in return; when he suffered, he did not threaten, but continued entrusting himself to him who judges justly.

In verse 21, Peter specifically says that Christ has given us an “example” which we are required to follow.

Peter then gives a third example, a wife being “submissive” to an unbelieving husband. The position of a woman in the ancient world was very difficult. Peter specifically mentions that she is to be submissive to her husband (the same command given to all and to slaves with their own masters) and do so without fear of “anything that is frightening.” (1 Peter 2:6). These are very hard words.

Why is the wife called upon to engage in such extraordinary conduct? To “win” her husband:

1 Peter 3:1 (ESV)

Likewise, wives, be subject to your own husbands, so that even if some do not obey the word, they may be won without a word by the conduct of their wives,

The demand being made upon Christians is extraordinary. It by nature unreasonable and at times even dangerous. Why would Christians lay aside their defense? For the Lord’s sake. We are called upon to suffer injustice so that none may have a cause to speak against our Lord.

Before going further, someone could say that bearing up under unjust or difficult orders is one thing, but dealing with silly or foolish orders is quite another. There are three responses to this. First, if we must maintain our submission even when being beaten for doing good. If we must do the greater thing, then we must do the lesser.

Second, this makes the bad testimony even worse: you are willing to disobey on the slightest cause. You have must have a very low regard for those in authority.

Thomas Brooks in his Precious Remedies for Satan’s Devices list as device number three of Satan, “extenuating and lessening the sin.” To bring us to sin, the Devil tells us the sin is a very small thing. He makes a number of points about small sins, such as the fruit in the garden may seem a very small sin; small sins lead to greater sins; a small hole can sink a great ship; many saints have suffered death rather than commit the smallest sin, such as just offering up a pinch of incense upon a pagan altar.

Speaking of refusing to follow because the law is so silly, “That it is sad to stand with God for a trifle.” If this thing is so small and insignificant, then it is especially foolish to refuse to obey. For instance, the lockdown does not require heroic acts; it is merely very inconvenient. And yes there are very serious economic issues for many people, but that is a different argument than the law is silly.

Two more that bear consideration: Your soul cannot stand the weight of guilt which is inherent in even the smallest sin. Nothing less the death of Christ was necessary to preserve you from the guilt of this “small sin”. If God were to set the full weight of this guilt upon your soul and you were to understand it aright, it would put you into a horror of madness.

Also, “there is more evil in the least sin than in the greatest affliction.” If it is a sin, then it is inherently worse than death itself.

And lest you think that perhaps I am seeing something new, the Venerable Bede in 7th Century England wrote:

This there is the praise which good men receive, when they act properly and obey the king’s servants, even when it means putting up with ignorance of unwise governors.

As he notes, there is no, but my governor is a fool exception to the rule.

In the Second Century, Justin writing to the Roman Emperor sought clemency for Christians. In his argument, Justin explained – based upon these propositions in Peter and Paul – that Christians were the best of citizens:

And more than all other men are we your helpers and allies in promoting peace, seeing that we hold this view, that it is alike impossible for the wicked, the covetous, the conspirator, and for the virtuous, to escape the notice of God, and that each man goes to everlasting punishment or salvation according to the value of his actions. For if all men knew this, no one would choose wickedness even for a little, knowing that he goes to the everlasting punishment of fire; but would by all means restrain himself, and adorn himself with virtue, that he might obtain the good gifts of God, and escape the punishments. For those who, on account of the laws and punishments you impose, endeavour to escape detection when they offend (and they offend, too, under the impression that it is quite possible to escape your detection, since you are but men), those persons, if they learned and were convinced that nothing, whether actually done or only intended, can escape the knowledge of God, would by all means live decently on account of the penalties threatened, as even you yourselves will admit. But you seem to fear lest all men become righteous, and you no longer have any to punish. Such would be the concern of public executioners, but not of good princes.

Justin Martyr, “The First Apology of Justin,” in The Apostolic Fathers with Justin Martyr and Irenaeus, ed. Alexander Roberts, James Donaldson, and A. Cleveland Coxe, vol. 1, The Ante-Nicene Fathers (Buffalo, NY: Christian Literature Company, 1885), 166.

We Christians obey the laws because we are concerned the judgment of God – not the judgment of the king. You have nothing to fear from Christians, we are your best of servants.

The importance of obedience to the civil authorities – even bad civil authorities – as a means of testimony, and the willingness to accept the consequences for disobedience when to obey would be sin, was eloquently stated by Pastor Wang Yi of the Early Rain Church in China in a statement released after his imprisonment:

As a pastor, my firm belief in the gospel, my teaching, and my rebuking of all evil proceeds from Christ’s command in the gospel and from the unfathomable love of that glorious King. Every man’s life is extremely short, and God fervently commands the church to lead and call any man to repentance who is willing to repent. Christ is eager and willing to forgive all who turn from their sins. This is the goal of all the efforts of the church in China—to testify to the world about our Christ, to testify to the Middle Kingdom about the Kingdom of Heaven, to testify to earthly, momentary lives about heavenly, eternal life. This is also the pastoral calling that I have received.

For this reason, I accept and respect the fact that this Communist regime has been allowed by God to rule temporarily. As the Lord’s servant John Calvin said, wicked rulers are the judgment of God on a wicked people, the goal being to urge God’s people to repent and turn again toward Him. For this reason, I am joyfully willing to submit myself to their enforcement of the law as though submitting to the discipline and training of the Lord.

At the same time, I believe that this Communist regime’s persecution against the church is a greatly wicked, unlawful action. As a pastor of a Christian church, I must denounce this wickedness openly and severely. The calling that I have received requires me to use non-violent methods to disobey those human laws that disobey the Bible and God. My Savior Christ also requires me to joyfully bear all costs for disobeying wicked laws.

But this does not mean that my personal disobedience and the disobedience of the church is in any sense “fighting for rights” or political activism in the form of civil disobedience, because I do not have the intention of changing any institutions or laws of China. As a pastor, the only thing I care about is the disruption of man’s sinful nature by this faithful disobedience and the testimony it bears for the cross of Christ.

As a pastor, my disobedience is one part of the gospel commission. Christ’s great commission requires of us great disobedience. The goal of disobedience is not to change the world but to testify about another world.

When placed in the matrix of life of the apostles and martyrs, when measured against the life of men like Wang Yi, our rebellion against inconvenient orders seems terribly misplaced.

Augustine on the relation of will to moral culpability

17 Friday Apr 2020

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In marking morality one could count either the bare physical act or the motivation which gives rise to the act. For instance if I drive my car over another human being does it make a moral difference whether the act was caused by a muscle spasm which jerked the wheel or from hatred?

Here Augustine is considered the seat of moral culpability:

Therefore, let this stand as a firmly established truth: The virtue which governs a good life controls from the seat of the soul every member of the body, and the body is rendered holy by the act of a holy will.

Thus, as long as the will remains unyielding, no crime, beyond the victim’s power to prevent it without sin, and which is perpetrated on the body or in the body, lays any guilt on the soul.

Augustine, The City of God

Book I, 16

A Brief Observation on Herod: Irrationality, Sin, Suppression and God

07 Tuesday Jan 2020

Posted by in Matthew, Sin, Uncategorized

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Anonymous-Artist_The-Magi-Before-Herod-from-the-altar-frontal-of-The-Virgin-with-Roses-c.1350

Something which I had not sufficiently considered about Herod is that he believes. He is not merely responding to a political threat; he is a panic over God. At some point, I may wish to develop this idea: there are two interesting themes here: (1) the irrationality of sin and suppression; (2) the effect of God intruding into human conscious such knowledge has been previously suppressed.

A good parallel here would be Judas & Peter. Anyway, to Herod:

Matthew 2:1–2 (ESV)

 2 Now after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea in the days of Herod the king, behold, wise men from the east came to Jerusalem, 2 saying, “Where is he who has been born king of the Jews? For we saw his star when it rose and have come to worship him.”

The Magi approach Herod and speak of the one born the King of Israel.  Herod knows about this child. He has heard about the Messiah & he believes this to be true:

Matthew 2:3–6 (ESV)

3 When Herod the king heard this, he was troubled, and all Jerusalem with him; 4 and assembling all the chief priests and scribes of the people, he inquired of them where the Christ was to be born. 5 They told him, “In Bethlehem of Judea, for so it is written by the prophet:

            6           “ ‘And you, O Bethlehem, in the land of Judah,

are by no means least among the rulers of Judah;

                        for from you shall come a ruler

who will shepherd my people Israel.’ ”

Despite this knowledge, Herod has apparently put the thought out of his head. Herod is not a decedent of David. To the extent he has taken thought concerning the Messiah, he has realized that the Messiah will replace him.

He goes to the religious authorities and asks them for more information on this child: specifically where will this child be born.

Consider this for a moment: Herod has successfully kept God at a distance from his conscious thought. He knows these things are true, but they are not Herod’s concern.

When God does intrude into Herod’s thought, Herod becomes “troubled.” He has been successfully suppressing the knowledge of God. But when God forces his way into Herod’s conscious life, Herod can only be troubled.

He seeks to figure out how to manage God, by managing the situation. Thus, he needs some information upon which to act: Where is this Messiah. The religious leaders can give him a city, but not a house. For that information, he turns to the Magi:

Matthew 2:7–8 (ESV)

7 Then Herod summoned the wise men secretly and ascertained from them what time the star had appeared. 8 And he sent them to Bethlehem, saying, “Go and search diligently for the child, and when you have found him, bring me word, that I too may come and worship him.”

Before we go on, consider the irrationality of Herod. Yes, he was a famously dangerous and vicious man. But this even portrays a peculiar kind of irrationality. He knows God is doing something right here, right now. God has intruded into his world. God has so controlled history that a child is being born at a particular moment in history and this known even by Magi from the Parthian Empire.

But he thinks he has a play. If he gets to the right house, he will be to kill the child.

This is the bizarre calculation of sin: Paul begins his argument in Romans with the proposition that God in fact knows, and we humans know that God knows and yet delude ourselves into thinking that God won’t know this time.

More consciously this stunt is attempted, the more bizarre it becomes in practice. Herod knowingly wants to kill the promised Messiah. Why does he believe that he’ll be able to outsmart God? How does he think God will let him get away with this?

Edward Taylor, Meditation 26, My Noble Lord

19 Thursday Sep 2019

Posted by in Edward Taylor, Repentance, Uncategorized

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Edward Taylor Meditation 26

Reference, Acts 5:31

31 God exalted him at his right hand as Leader and Savior, to give repentance to Israel and forgiveness of sins.

My noble Lord, thy nothing servant I

Am for thy sake out with my heart, that holds,

So little love for such a Lord: I cry

How should I be but angry thus to see

My heart so hidebound in her acts to thee?

 

Thou art a golden theme; but I am lean

A leaden orator upon the same.

Thy golden web excels my dozie beam

Whose linsy-wolsy loom deserves thy blame.

It’s all defiled, unbiased too by sin:

An hearty wish for thee’s scarce shot therein.

 

It pities me who pity cannot show

That such a worthy theme abused should be.

I am undone, unless thy pardons do

Undo my sin I did, undoing me.

My sins are great, and grievous ones, therefore

Carbuncle mountains can’t wipe out their score.

 

But thou, my Lord, does a free pardon bring.

Thou giv’st forgiveness: yet my heart through sin,

Hath naught but naught to file thy gift  up in.

An hurden haump doth chafe a silken skin.

Although I pardons beg, I scare can see,

When thou giv’st pardons, I give praise to thee.

 

O bad at best! What am I then at worst?

I want a pardon, and when pardon’d, want

A thankful heart: both which thou dost disbursed.

Giv’st both, or neither: for which Lord I pant.

Two such good things at once! Methinks I could

Avenge my heart, lest it should neither hold.

 

Lord tap mine eyes, seeing such grace in thee

So little doth affect my graceless soul.

And take my tears in lieu of thanks of me,

New make my heart: then take it for thy toll.

Thy pardons then will make my heart to sing

It Mictham-David: with sweet joy within.

 

 

The first stanza:

My noble Lord, thy nothing servant I

Am for thy sake out with my heart, that holds,

So little love for such a Lord: I cry

How should I be but angry thus to see

My heart so hidebound in her acts to thee?

Taylor meditates upon the proposition that Jesus has been exalted to give repentance and forgiveness of sins. The exaltation of Jesus comes upon the death and resurrection of Jesus, which comes upon the Incarnation of the Son of God. The reference to Acts comes from a sermon by Peter. The preceding verse in this sermon reads: “The God of our fathers raised Jesus, whom you killed by hanging him on a tree.”Acts 5:30 (ESV)

He begins with the contrast between Jesus – My Noble Lord; and himself, thy nothing servant. He condemns himself seeing himself so little moved when contemplating such a matter.  This condemnation for not responding appropriate to the knowledge of God’s love in Christ, is the primary concern of the poem. It is a bit of self-examination and self-rebuke, and thereon, a plea for pardon.

He prays for a heart that will weep that it cares so little for the goodness of God, and that such weeping will be received in sincere repentance. And then, having been forgiven anew for his sinful lack of a proper response to God’s goodness will become a present basis for rejoicing.

We see here, that those within the Puritan tradition placed a great emphasis not just upon intellectual apprehension but also upon due affections, that is, emotions and desires. As would be written by Jonathan Edwards in the next generation after Taylor:

True religion, in great part, consists in holy affections.

Jonathan Edwards, Religious Affections, ed. John E. Smith and Harry S. Stout, Revised edition., vol. 2, The Works of Jonathan Edwards (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2009), 95.

In line two, the accent must fall heavily upon the word “out”; it is an imperative:

Am for thy sake OUT with my heart, that holds,

Remove a heart that holds so little love.

Hidebound: this is an especially useful adjective to describe a heart which cannot fill with the expansive joy and love fit for the occasion. The flesh and skin have closed about his heart and it cannot swell with joy.

Second Stanza:

 Thou art a golden theme; but I am lean

A leaden orator upon the same.

Thy golden web excels my dozy beam

Whose linsy-wolsy loom deserves thy blame.

It’s all defiled, unbiased too by sin:

An hearty wish for thee’s scarce shot therein.

The word “lean” picks up the image of “hidebound” which originally referred to cattle whose skin had grown taunt over a famished body.

God is gold; I am lead. Gold is celestial; lead is dull and earth-bound. He cannot speak in a manner fit.

He then turns abruptly to the imagery of weaving.

The cloth to be woven is a “golden web”. However, the poem’s “loom deserves thy blame” – condemnation.

The beam of the loom is dozy (slow, stupid).

“Linsey-woolsey” was originally referred to a textile made of linen and wool. But it was used figuratively to refer to something as being confused or nonsensical. The poet’s loom – his poem – is all confused and not fit for the beautiful garment which should be produced.

Sin has infected the process and thus the poem won’t go correctly.

This is critical consideration in the poet’s argument. Sin is not merely some particular bad act; sin is also a disease, a corruption of his entire frame. He is not a man who occasionally sins. He is a man who is constantly affected by sin. The sin is so pervasive that it affects his ability to even express the appropriate emotions.

To make this seem not so strange, consider a circumstance where someone witnesses a great horror or tragedy and yet does not respond with appropriate emotions. They laugh at seeing a death; they feel no compassion at seeing great suffering. We consider such people to be “wrong.”

Taylor is saying: this theme is far greater than any other theme I could consider. This should bring me to soaring notes of golden joy. But sin has obscured my ability. Indeed, it is a sin for me to not even care rightly about this.

Third Stanza:

It pities me who pity cannot show

That such a worthy theme abused should be.

I am undone, unless thy pardons do

Undo my sin I did, undoing me.

My sins are great, and grievous ones, therefore

Carbuncle mountains can’t wipe out their score.

I need pity in my state; and yet, ironically, I do not express the right pity over such a thought, that Christ had died for me. I need pity from you God, because I am in sin that I do not have a heart which expresses pity as I should. Note in the first line that “pity” carries the accent, which throws great emphasis on the word:

it PITies ME WHO PITy cannot SHOW

I need pity, and in danger of judgment “I am undone”.

Here, the irony intensifies: Taylor begins to mediate upon the forgiveness of Christ. He see that he does not have the proper affections when considering the subject. He thus falls into new sin when contemplating the forgiveness of his sins, which necessitates the need for forgiveness again:

   Unless thy pardons do

Undo my sin I did

A carbuncle mountain would be an entire mountain of ruby. (See, e.g, Hawthorne, “The Great Carbuncle”; Fitzgeard, “A Diamond as Big as the Ritz.”) My sin is so great that nothing in creation can answer for their debt.

 

Fourth Stanza 

But thou, my Lord, does a free pardon bring.

Thou giv’st forgiveness: yet my heart through sin,

Hath naught but naught to file thy gift up in.

An hurden haump doth chafe a silken skin.

Although I pardons beg, I scare can see,

When thou giv’st pardons, I give praise to thee.

 The trouble becomes more acute because even though God does give forgiveness, the poet’s heart is not fit to receive forgiveness. He is a “nothing servant” with a “heart through sin, /Hath naught but naught”.

I was unable to find any use of the phrase “hurden haump” except in this poem. What we do know from context, it must be something which would ruin in the finest of things (silk would be extraordinary expensive and rare).

Finally, even though he is begging for pardon, he realizes his heart will still lack the praise which is due or the pardon received.

Fifth Stanza:

O bad at best! What am I then at worst?

I want a pardon, and when pardon’d, want

A thankful heart: both which thou dost disbursed.

Giv’st both, or neither: for which Lord I pant.

Two such good things at once! Methinks I could

Avenge my heart, lest it should neither hold.

At best, when contemplating this theme, I am “bad”. But what if I am at my worst? First, I want – lack – a pardon. I need a pardon. And then upon receiving the pardon I need, I “want” – lack – a heart which will express the thankfulness due. I can only have a thankful heart, if you God give it to me. Therefore, he prays for both a pardon for his sin and a heart which will express the proper thankfulness in response to the forgiveness.

But if his heart will not hold such pardon and joy, he will “avenge” himself upon it:

Methinks I could

Avenge my heart, lest it should neither hold.

 

Sixth Stanza:

Lord tap mine eyes, seeing such grace in thee

So little doth affect my graceless soul.

And take my tears in lieu of thanks of me,

New make my heart: then take it for thy toll.

Thy pardons then will make my heart to sing

It Mictham-David: with sweet joy within.

 

He end with a call to weep for his sin:

Lord tap mine eyes, seeing such grace in thee

So little doth affect my graceless soul.

“Tap mine eyes”, put a tap in my eyes to drain the tears in repentance for my sin.  This theme was taken up by Edwards (although I don’t have any knowledge that Edwards had ever seen Taylor’s poems; however, Taylor knew Edward’s father, thus there is a basis to see a continuity of thought):

 

True contrition may be known by the principle it arises from, and the effect it produces in the heart:

By the principle it arises from, and that is love to God and the Lord Jesus Christ. The sinner, thinking of the merciful nature of God, thinking of his great compassion and pity manifested to men, he sees that God is really exceeding merciful and compassionate. He wonders that God should so condescend to the children of men. He sees that really and truly God has shown an unparalleled goodness and a most sweet, condescending compassion in that act of sending his Son into the world. He admires the goodness of God herein; he wonders that so great and glorious a God should be so full of pity and compassion. What, the King of the Universe, the Infinite God, the Eternal Jehovah pity man at this rate?

Such thoughts as these make him to love God, and think him most excellent and lovely, that ever he should be so full of mercy and pity, that ever he should be so exceeding gracious; that ever so great a God, that has been so much affronted by proud worms, should be so full of goodness and astonishing clemency as to take pity on them, instead of punishing them, especially when he considers that he is one of those wretched rebels whom He so pitied. This makes him to love this so good God above all things in the world; his very soul is all drawn out: how doth it melt with such thoughts, how doth it flow in streams of love!

And then when he reflects on his sin, as [on] his vileness, on his disobedience to this so lovely God, his proud and contemptuous behavior towards him, how he dishonored him by his unreasonable, most ungrateful disobedience—that ever he should be so ungrateful and so vile: then what sorrow, what grief, what deep contrition follows! How doth he loathe himself; how is [he] angry with himself! See the motions that the penitent feels at this time excellently represented by the Apostle: 2 Cor. 7:11, “For behold this same thing, that ye sorrowed after a godly sort, what carefulness it wrought in you; yea, what clearing of yourselves; yea, what indignation; yea, what fear; yea, what vehement desire; yea, what zeal; yea, what revenge!”

I do not say that a true penitent’s thoughts always run exactly in this order, but I say that they are of this nature, and do arise from this principle.

Jonathan Edwards, “True Repentance Required,” in Sermons and Discourses, 1720–1723, ed. Wilson H. Kimnach and Harry S. Stout, vol. 10, The Works of Jonathan Edwards (New Haven; London: Yale University Press, 1992), 513–514.

He then proposes a solution to his trouble:

And take my tears in lieu of thanks of me,

New make my heart: then take it for thy toll.

First, God, take my tears of repentance, since I have not shown the joy which I should. Renew my heart:

Psalm 51:10–12 (ESV)

10          Create in me a clean heart, O God,

and renew a right spirit within me.

11          Cast me not away from your presence,

and take not your Holy Spirit from me.

12          Restore to me the joy of your salvation,

and uphold me with a willing spirit.

 

Then, when I have wept for my sins, I will rejoice in my present forgiveness:

Observe, gospel-tears are not lost, they are seeds of comfort; while the penitent doth pour out tears, God pours in joy; if thou wouldst be cheerful, saith Chrysostom, be sad: Psal. 126:5. ‘They that sow in tears shall reap in joy.’ It was the end of Christ’s anointing and coming into the world, that he might comfort them that mourn, Isa. 61:3. Christ had the oil of gladness poured on him, as Chrysostom saith, that he might pour it on the mourner; well then might the apostle call it ‘a repentance not to be repented of, 2 Cor. 7:10. A man’s drunkenness is to be repented of, his uncleanness is to be repented of; but his repentance is never to be repented of, because it is the inlet of joy: ‘Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted.’ Here is sweet fruit from a bitter stock: Christ caused the earthen vessels to be filled with water, and then turned the water into wine, John 2:9. So when the eye, that earthen vessel, hath been filled with water brim full, then Christ will turn the water of tears into the wine of joy. Holy mourning, saith St. Basil, is the seed out of which the flowers of eternal joy doth grow.

Thomas Watson, “Discourses upon Christ’s Sermon on the Mount,” in Discourses on Important and Interesting Subjects, Being the Select Works of the Rev. Thomas Watson, vol. 2 (Edinburgh; Glasgow: Blackie, Fullarton, & Co.; A. Fullarton & Co., 1829), 123–124.

A Michtam (or Miktam) is a title, probably a musical notation, in certain Psalms of David.

 

An Irrational Question (Romans 6:1)

14 Thursday Jun 2018

Posted by in John Bunyan, Romans, Uncategorized

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Romans 6:1(ESV)

 What shall we say then? Are we to continue in sin that grace may abound?

Paul has developed the doctrine that (1) human beings are accountable to God; (2) that humans beings are rebellion against God, and that no good acts can atone for the rebellion; (3) but God has graciously made provision for our reconciliation by giving Christ in our place:

Romans 5:8–11 (ESV)

8 but God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us. 9 Since, therefore, we have now been justified by his blood, much more shall we be saved by him from the wrath of God. 10 For if while we were enemies we were reconciled to God by the death of his Son, much more, now that we are reconciled, shall we be saved by his life. 11 More than that, we also rejoice in God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have now received reconciliation.

This then leads to a possible conclusion: If God gets glory by graciously forgiving me of my sin, then would it not make sense to continue sinning so that God can continue to forgive with the result that he will bestow more grace and thus get more glory?

Paul answers the question with the Greek words, “μὴ γένοιτο”. It is difficult to get exactly the correct tone and translation: This is something that could not possibly be true, it is not a possible state of affairs — maybe better: “How irrational!” (I recall reading a book about the translation of the Bible. The author tells a story about translating this passage in a class in Britain. One student “adventurously” translated it, “not bloody likely” — which some of the feel.

Now Paul will provide a number of arguments for why sin is not a possible response to grace. But I want to draw out the sheer irrationality of that question. Sin from grace is reckless, thankless, evil, spiteful, a denial of forgiveness in the first place, illogical, unnecessary — but it is sheer irrationality at heart.

There is a passage in Bunyan’s Holy War which shows the irrationality of sin from grace. We come to a portion of the story where the Prince has retaken the Town of Mansoul, that had been in rebellion and under the sway of Diabolus. The rebel leaders are captured and brought to the Prince:

And thus was the manner of their going down. Captain Boanerges went with a guard before them, and Captain Conviction came behind, and the prisoners went down bound in chains in the midst; so, I say, the prisoners went in the midst, and the guard went with flying colours behind and before, but the prisoners went with drooping spirits. Or, more particularly, thus: The prisoners went down all in mourning; they put ropes upon themselves; they went on smiting themselves on the breasts, but durst not lift up their eyes to heaven. Thus they went out at the gate of Mansoul, till they came into the midst of the Prince’s army, the sight and glory of which did greatly heighten their affliction. Nor could they now longer forbear, but cry out aloud, O unhappy men! O wretched men of Mansoul! Their chains still mixing their dolorous notes with the cries of the prisoners, made noise more lamentable. f199 So, when they were come to the door of the Prince’s pavilion, they cast themselves prostrate upon the place. Then one went in and told his Lord that the prisoners were come down. The Prince then ascended a throne of state, and sent for the prisoners in; who when they came, did tremble before him, also they covered their faces with shame. Now as they drew near to the place where he sat, they threw themselves down before him.

When questioned, they admit their guilt, their inability to make restitution and the fact they deserve death. Then something wonderful happens:

Then the Prince called for the prisoners to come and to stand again before him, and they came and stood trembling. And he said unto them, The sins, trespasses, iniquities, that you, with the whole town of Mansoul, have from time to time committed against my Father and me, I have power and commandment from my Father to forgive to the town of Mansoul; and do forgive you accordingly. And having so said, he gave them written in parchment, and sealed with seven seals, a large and general pardon, commanding both my Lord Mayor, my Lord Will-be-will, and Mr. Recorder, to proclaim, and cause it to be proclaimed to-morrow by that the sun is up, throughout the whole town of Mansoul.

But forgiveness was not the end of the Prince’s pardon:

Moreover, the Prince stripped the prisoners of their mourning weeds, and gave them ‘beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, and the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness’ (Isa. 61: 3) Then he gave to each of the three, jewels of gold, and precious stones, and took away their ropes, and put chains of gold about their necks, and ear-rings in their ears. Now the prisoners, when they did hear the gracious words of Prince Emmanuel, and had beheld all that was done unto them, fainted almost quite away; for the grace, the benefit, the pardon, was sudden, glorious, and so big, that they were not able, without staggering, to stand up under it.

Having received grace, pardon, restoration and elevation from their Prince — against whom they willfully and shamefully rebelled — would it not be complete madness to think that further rebellion would be fitting? Rebellion after restoration would be the act of a madman.

If you were to receive a priceless gemstone and then were to take it and fling it into the ocean, you would accounted insane. It would be irrational to destroy great wealth. How much more irrational would it be for the forgiven prisoners to rush back into town and burn it down.  Sin is irrational in at all times. It thrice irrational to rebel against grace.