The Greek word translated as “Living One” is zon, pronounced “zone.” The possibility here for wordplay takes us right to the heart of our study on this last day. Get in the zone. Get in the zon. Be joined to the Living One. Stay close to him through faith. Fear this glorious Son of Man because he is the First and the Last, the one who wields the keys to life and death. Then you will find that you need not fear anything else. The tumult of the last days will be severe. But you will be upheld through it for eternal life in Christ. This will be worth celebrating tomorrow on Easter morning!

 

Over the past six weeks, we have traced six golden threads through Scripture. From Genesis through the history of Israel, from the psalms and prophets through the gospels all the way to the final revelation, we see the tapestry God is weaving.

 

We are created. In love, in God. For love, for God. It is good that we exist. For although we fell from innocence, the Lamb of God planned from all eternity to shed his blood to redeem us. The triune God has made us to fear him. Because he is reality, our well-being requires that we align with the truth. We refer to him and relate to him in constant mindfulness so that we stay out of deception and darkness. When we look to Christ Jesus in this way, all other fears become relativized, even downsized. If God is with us, who can be against us? 

 

Most beautifully, we see from Eden to the new Jerusalem the deep intent of the triune God for his unique image bearers. He wants to give himself to us as our beloved, loving God. He has staked his life on us forever in the incarnation of the Son. And he calls us to himself to be his precious people. For what God passionately desires is to dwell with us in communion in a renewed cosmos. That’s quite a story. A story that God will bring at infinite cost to a glorious fulfillment.

 

Jesus had just spent a full day ministering to a crowd that followed him around the Sea of Galilee to a remote place on the far shore. Moved with compassion, he healed the sick and taught the people as a shepherd caring for lost sheep. By evening, it was too late for the people to find food in that wilderness. So Jesus multiplied the five loaves and two fish into a feast for more than five thousand. 

 

Now as darkness falls, Jesus sends his disciples in the boat back to the other side. Meanwhile, he goes up the mountain to pray and replenish his spirit in the Father’s presence. The disciples, however, struggle against a strong wind that blows against them on the water. Though the Sea of Galilee is only a few miles wide, after more than six hours, they are still fighting the waves far from land. Then they see a figure walking across the water. Already exhausted, the disciples feel their fears leap within them. They cry out, “It is a ghost!” Their trepidation stems from the notion that contact with a disembodied spirit might separate their own souls from their bodies undoing them completely. Leaving aside whether or not such a thing actually occurs in this world, we can feel their terror.

 

Then Jesus speaks to them: “Take courage. I am. Be not afraid.” The figure that appeared as the source of their primal fear is Jesus who brings peace to them. This instance in the middle of the night actually reveals the very heart of what it means that the eternal Son of God has arrived in our midst. The quelling of fear occurs as we orient our lives to the person of Jesus.

 

Jesus has declared, literally in the Greek, “I, I am.” Most often found in John’s gospel, this phrase harks back to Exodus 3:14 when God revealed his name to Moses, “God said to Moses, “I AM WHO I AM.” And he said, “Say this to the people of Israel: ‘I AM has sent me to you.’” This was the giving of the sacred divine name which we write as “the LORD.” In saying emphatically “I am,” Jesus identifies with the one who is pure being, the great I AM, the only true God. To have the presence of Jesus is to have all of God himself. For Jesus is the second person of the triune God who has his very life as a communion of love: Father, Son and Holy Spirit. The basis for courage in the face of fear is not wishful thinking or a positive attitude. It is the person of Jesus himself.

 

Matthew’s account contains Simon Peter’s challenge for Jesus to call him to walk on the water too. Jesus does not hesitate, saying simply, “Come.” For a few moments, Peter indeed walks on the waves. But when he takes his eyes off Jesus, he looks at the height of the waves, fears anew and begins to sink. He cries out the great prayer of faith, “Lord, save me!” Of course, Jesus takes him by the hand, they return to the boat and the storm is stilled. The presence of Jesus calms fears, winds and waves for Jesus is master of all.

As we noticed yesterday, sometimes what God is doing in our lives for our good can cause us fear. In today’s story, the disciples’ fear moves from a rather normal anxiety about the storm to the terror that something supernatural would unmake them entirely. But they soon realize that the frightening presence is Jesus coming to them. He transcends the highest waves and is willing to invite his disciples to join him. In our lives, he may well call us to more than we ever thought possible as if he wants us to walk on water! In him all things are possible (Matthew 19:26). But we can start to sink when we take our eyes off Jesus and look only at the waves. 

 

As we deal with the fears that arise in us, we can remember that all courage and calm are found in the person of Jesus. Not with circumstances. Those may or may not resolve immediately. But Jesus is here. The same yesterday, today and forever (Hebrews 13:8). Our comfort is found in his words: “[I]t is I. Do not be afraid.” We find courage as we try to discern where and how the Lord is with us in any and all circumstances. We can learn to ask questions that lead us to him. Instead of asking first, “Why did you let this happen?” we can ask, “Where are you in this? What are you doing through this?”

 

Courage comes from Christ. Even in the wildest storms, he is there. He is.

Luke 1:26-32, 38

 

In the sixth month the angel Gabriel was sent from God to a city of Galilee named Nazareth, to a virgin betrothed to a man whose name was Joseph, of the house of David. And the virgin’s name was Mary. And he came to her and said, “Greetings, O favored one, the Lord is with you!” But she was greatly troubled at the saying, and tried to discern what sort of greeting this might be. And the angel said to her, “Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God. And behold, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you shall call his name Jesus. He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High.”

 

And Mary said, “Behold, I am the servant of the Lord; let it be to me according to your word.” 

 

Matthew 1:19-21

 

And her husband Joseph, being a just man and unwilling to put her to shame, resolved to divorce her quietly. But as he considered these things, behold, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream, saying, “Joseph, son of David, do not fear to take Mary as your wife, for that which is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. She will bear a son, and you shall call his name Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins.”

 

Luke 2:8-14

 

And in the same region there were shepherds out in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And an angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were filled with great fear. And the angel said to them, “Fear not, for behold, I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord. And this will be a sign for you: you will find a baby wrapped in swaddling cloths and lying in a manger.” And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God and saying, “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace among those with whom he is pleased!”

 

When we entrust ourselves to the God who loves us, we do not receive a detailed timetable of all that he plans to send our way. Nor do we get a guarantee that all we fear will disappear and all we want will come to be. Immediate circumstances may not resolve the way we would like. What looms in our mind as the worst might yet happen. So, on one level, our present fears may be grounded.

 

How then do we receive the assuring command, “Fear not”? The faith that God desires from us is just like the faith he sought from Abram. Will I trust that God himself is my shield? That he himself is reward enough? The golden thread of “I will be your God” comes into play here. The LORD gives himself to us, to have him, to claim boldly, “He is my God. My shield.” We sing with Robert Grant’s hymn, “Your mercies how tender, how firm to the end / Our maker, redeemer, defender and friend” (“O Worship the King”).

 

The future remains dark to us. It is only rarely given to a human to know what will be. We cannot see how all this will end. This not knowing can evoke terror. What if this cancer cannot be stopped? What if she leaves me? What if my house never sells, my investments tank, and I die a pauper? What if I never see my children come to faith? What if I can’t get the job done? The list is endless.

 

To quell the fear, I offer the advice of Douglas Kelly, my beloved theology professor. To paraphrase him, first, ask yourself, “Who is Jesus Christ to me?” Say out loud all that Christ is and all that he means to you. Then ask, “Is Jesus Christ still this to me?” Then ask, “Is it really likely that this is the moment when Christ has decided to quit on you, after all these years and all his faithfulness?” If not, can you trust this uncertain future to him right now? Can you believe that come what may you have Christ, and he 

is enough?

 

Reminding ourselves of the truth of Christ’s character and his faithful care for us is a powerful antidote to fear.

 

I know, Lord Jesus, that I answer your promises

As Abram replied in fear,

“O Lord GOD, what will you give me,

Since I remain childless?”

That fits all the times I do not see fruit

From my labors, my plans, my prayers.

Nothing seems born from my efforts!

 

And more. I pray as you taught, 

“Your kingdom come, your will be done.”

But the world seems worse.

Chaos, coarseness, cruelty rise.

Are you really going to birth a new world,

Or will I be an orphan, stranded in this hell?

 

Help me hear the sufficiency in your words,

“Fear not! I am your shield, your reward.”

 

I have you, Jesus. You are the one who sought me

And brought home in forgiveness.

You are the one who filled in the gaps,

Freed me from myself to discover love,

You have ever sent peace that passes understanding,

Your Spirit stirs in me hope beyond sight.

 

I do not know how this looming future will resolve,

But I cannot be lost from you.

You have given yourself to me forever.

I draw upon that peace,

I will look in hope for the fruit 

You will grow in whatever comes next. 

Context Note: When he was an arrogant young man, Joseph’s envious brothers sold him to traders who brought him to Egypt as a slave. Through the decades, the LORD caused Joseph to rise to be second only to the Pharaoh over the country. In this scene, Joseph’s brothers have come to Egypt to buy grain during a famine. Joseph recognizes them, but they do not realize that this powerful man in Egyptian attire is their long-lost brother. Although he greatly desires to be reconciled to his brothers, Joseph needs to test them. So Joseph demands that they return to Canaan to bring back their younger brother Benjamin leaving behind another brother as collateral. As they discuss this proposal, the brothers reveal that they feel remorse and guilt over what they did to Joseph years before. 

 

Genesis 42:18-25 

 

On the third day Joseph said to them, “Do this and you will live, for I fear God: if you are honest men, let one of your brothers remain confined where you are in custody, and let the rest go and carry grain for the famine of your households, and bring your youngest brother to me. So your words will be verified, and you shall not die.” And they did so. Then they said to one another, “In truth we are guilty concerning our brother, in that we saw the distress of his soul, when he begged us and we did not listen. That is why this distress has come upon us.” 

 

And Reuben answered them, “Did I not tell you not to sin against the boy? But you did not listen. So now there comes a reckoning for his blood.” They did not know that Joseph understood them, for there was an interpreter between them. Then [Joseph] turned away from them and wept. And he returned to them and spoke to them. And he took Simeon from them and bound him before their eyes. And Joseph gave orders to fill their bags with grain, and to replace every man’s money in his sack, and to give them provisions for the journey. This was done for them. 

The fear of the LORD is awareness that God alone is sovereign, that God is active in our lives and world, and that God can make even the worst that happens to us redemptive for ourselves and others. Only this fear, this radical trust, reverence and constant reference to God, can enable us to process the events of life in this fruitful way. Without fear of the LORD, we may see only the sting of tragedy. With the fear of the LORD, we see his gracious hand in a myriad of ways even in times of struggle or uncertainty. Joseph had every reason to be bitter. He could so easily have taken revenge on his brothers. But when he declared, “I fear God,” he had determined to act with integrity and forgiveness.

 

The fear of God that Joseph affirmed involves looking beyond ourselves to the higher power and the bigger picture. In particular, we trust in our Creator to make all things right. And we commit ourselves to being part of that rectification especially when it’s hard. We carry on in faith that the triune God rules and reigns. 

 

Revelation 21:1-8

 

Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. And I saw the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be his people, and God himself will be with them as their God. He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.” 

 

And he who was seated on the throne said, “Behold, I am making all things new.” Also he said, “Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true.” And he said to me, “It is done! I am the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end. To the thirsty I will give from the spring of the water of life without payment. The one who conquers will have this heritage, and I will be his God and he will be my son. But as for the cowardly, the faithless, the detestable, as for murderers, the sexually immoral, sorcerers, idolaters, and all liars, their portion will be in the lake that burns with fire and sulfur, which is the second death.”

 

Genesis 17:1-8  

 

When Abram was ninety-nine years old the LORD appeared to Abram and said to him, “I am God Almighty; walk before me, and be blameless, that I may make my covenant between me and you, and may multiply you greatly.” Then Abram fell on his face. And God said to him, “Behold, my covenant is with you, and you shall be the father of a multitude of nations. No longer shall your name be called Abram, but your name shall be Abraham, for I have made you the father of a multitude of nations. I will make you exceedingly fruitful, and I will make you into nations, and kings shall come from you. And I will establish my covenant between me and you and your offspring after you throughout their generations for an everlasting covenant, to be God to you and to your offspring after you. And I will give to you and to your offspring after you the land of your sojournings, all the land of Canaan, for an everlasting possession, and I will be their God.”

 

Abram and Sarai had waited twenty-five years for the LORD to keep his promise to make this childless couple forebearers of a great nation to bless the world. They weren’t getting any younger. We read later, with classic Biblical understatement, that at ninety “the way of women had ceased to be with Sarah” (Genesis 18:11). However, once more the LORD appeared to Abram calling for his faith. This time God used the language of a covenant, a solemn agreement that bound a ruler and his people together. In those days, a king would set the terms of the covenant for both parties, making his pledge of protection over a people and declaring what he would expect in return. Here, the LORD even changes Abram’s name to reflect the promise. Abraham means “father of a multitude,” and this new name signifies that God’s pledge is not a conditional or temporary covenant but an 

everlasting one. 

 

The most meaningful part of this pledge was not the land or the offspring, but the relationship: “to be God to you” (Genesis 17:7). Ever after, the LORD promised Abraham’s descendants, “I will be their God.” The Creator of all things covenanted to be in particular relationship. All of his divine attributes would be inclined toward the children of Abraham. His ears would always be open to them, and his protective power would always be over them. Though they would go through trials, their God, this true God, this covenanting God, would go with them. The LORD I AM, the sovereign King of kings would take these people as his own. 

I can see so little of what’s coming ahead,

So I find it hard to trust your promises.

 

Will you really not leave me when 

The weakness comes, the skills slip,

The pain overwhelms, the losses mount?

 

Are you really working all things together for good

Even through the accident, the diagnosis, the failure?

Will I have faith when it comes to the crunch time?

 

O gracious Father, the future is such an unknown,

But I can look back and see your hand.

You have not spared any of your children

Difficulties, pain, trials, and challenges.

But you never left me,

You never failed to make a situation

Draw me closer to you, 

Push me further towards love,

Pull a greater faith and richer worship

From my heart and soul. 

 

You are my God. I am yours.

Your covenant faithfulness is everlasting.

I choose this day to trust you

With whatever awaits in the future. 

John 1:1-5, 14, 18

 

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things were made through him, and without him was not any thing made that was made. In him was life, and the life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. 

 

And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth.

 

No one has ever seen God; the only God, who is at the Father’s side, he has made him known.

 

Colossians 2:9 

 

For in him the whole fullness of deity dwells bodily.

 

Two weeks ago on Day 5, we looked at John 1 in connection with the mystery that God created all things through his Word. And his Word turns out to be Jesus! God has ever existed in a relationship of eternal love between the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. In the fullness of the triune God’s “time,” the Father brought forth all things through the Son and in the Spirit. Today we go further in John 1 to discover that the Word entered his own creation as one of us! The ancient promise that God would dwell with his people was realized individually and particularly in the man Jesus. 

 

For centuries, Israel had been awaiting the day of the LORD when God would come to earth to set all things right. Their unwavering hope was that evil would be subdued, the world remade and God could once again dwell with his people. A new age would dawn. I think it was a total surprise that God came so quietly, as a baby born in a little town to a virgin. He fulfilled his promise to dwell with us by actually taking up a flesh-and-blood humanity. The word John uses for “dwelt” could just as easily be translated more religiously as “tabernacled,” giving a connection to the LORD’s presence in the holy temple. Or it could be translated with an earthy feeling of “pitched his tent.” God bivouacked in a body! His dwelling among us was not as a spirit that could be felt but not seen. It was not as a mysterious bush that flamed but never burned up. He came in skin that could be smelled, touched, sunburned and even nailed to a cross like any other ordinary body.

 

At the same time, our Colossians passage tells us that “the whole fullness of deity” has taken up permanent bodily residence through the incarnation. Jesus is not just a man so holy and faithful that God later adopted him to be his special son. Rather, Jesus came to us from conception as the already Son of God now taking to himself a real body. Yes, he laid aside some of his divine prerogatives in order not to overshadow that humanity. Jesus depended on the Holy Spirit to do as a man what is beyond a man. By the Spirit, he performed miracles or received supernatural insight. But he was ever also the Son of God enacting his divine, eternal faithfulness and love for his Father. The pure heart of his true divinity beat through his true humanity. 

 

In the drama of human history, we discover that we cannot make the story turn out all right. As we saw yesterday, we needed God to come down. And so he did. Jesus the Son of God knew where the narrative needed to go. A human needed to enact unique faithfulness to God even unto death. But only God could accomplish that feat. To turn the human tale from tragedy to comedy, the author entered his own story about us as one of 

the characters! 

 

Jesus, inside our story, risked being co-opted, subverted or taken over by his fellow humans and their dysfunction. Of course, he remained faithful, but he was killed by the other characters in the narrative. In our world, Jesus trusted the heavenly script that would lead through his grim death to his joyful living again. So all the characters could, if they trusted him, have their personal stories redeemed. Now Jesus, the “author and finisher of our faith” (Hebrews 12:2 KJV), continues by his Spirit to rewrite the story of each person that calls upon him. And, as Paul celebrated, “He who calls you is faithful; he will surely do it” (1 Thessalonians 5:24).

 

I love this “hands-on” account of the creation of humanity. In Genesis 1, we read how God brought forth everything by the creative authority of his Word. In Genesis 2, we see the tender, personal interaction between the Creator and his image bearers. This version is “anthropomorphic,” showing God who is eternal spirit in terms descriptive of how a human would act. Therefore, some might say this account is primitive and merely metaphorical. But that would be to miss its profound depths. A metaphor is always meant to show something real through comparison. We take in its word pictures in all their evocative specificity to receive an understanding of what they point to. If we try on these verses according to their own terms, we will experience how they take us to some intimate truths about our Creator. We will discover how rich, how deep and how true these words are. Let’s look closely at a few threads.

 

Personal Engagement. We witness the LORD God creating the first man with personal shaping. In God’s “hands,” Adam was made from the stuff of earth. But that’s not all. How intimate is the picture of God’s breathing his own breath into the man’s nostrils! When we recall that the Hebrew word for “breath” is the same word for “spirit,” we feel the intended communion. God’s own personal Spirit brings the physical body to life. We live as God’s image by his breath, his very Spirit, respiring within us. 

 

Participation Planned. Genesis visualizes the LORD as the great Gardener who prepared Eden for his supreme creation. With an artist’s anticipation of showing his beloved his work, God takes the man—how? By the hand. In his own divine hand! He places Adam in the Garden as a participant in its shaping and growth as if to say, “Here, I created all this out of nothing, but I left some work for you to do. I want you to bring your mind and creative spirit to bear through your hands and muscles to tend this creation over which I have placed you.”

 

Then, in a playful, touching scene, the LORD of all fashions the animals and shows them one by one to the man: “Take a look. Give each a name, and I will call it by that name too.” We cannot create out of nothing. But our God made us to participate with him in ordering all life.

 

Communion Completes Us. The very life of the triune God is a communion of love. Father, Son and Spirit ever dance in and out of one another. Creation came from the overflow of this love. Thus, God made his image bearers for relationships of love with him and one another. Again, we see deep intimacy and direct involvement as the LORD takes a rib from Adam to form the woman. The word translated here as “helper” means one called alongside to do for us what we cannot do for ourselves. To fully be who we were made to be, we need to be in relationship with others. In the beginning, nothing stood between the man and the woman. They were completely exposed to one another. All was known and no shame provoked hiding. 

 

To Be With Us Directly. Nothing stood between our first parents and the Creator. Eden was made to be a meeting place between God and humanity. The LORD withdrew enough of his radiant omnipotence that his creation could meet with him directly without being destroyed. Scripture has always portrayed the one true God as being mighty enough to create all things yet tender enough to relate personally and truly to his creation. He accommodates himself to our frailty and does not chide us for our limitations. In the beginning, God dwelt among his people.

 

Daily Meeting. Finally, and sadly, we learn so much about what was intended just as all was lost. Scripture tells us that after Adam and Eve ate from the tree of knowledge, the LORD came walking in the Garden in the cool of the evening. We get the sense that this was part of the rhythm of life in Eden. God did not beat down upon the man and woman with a constant, inescapable, overwhelming presence. He withdrew so that they could enjoy and tend the Garden. At the end of the day, he walked to them. That is, God accommodated himself to a form that was recognizable and relatable to them. He came to be with them. The Garden was a temple, a meeting place between God and humanity. That has always been the plan!

 

Today’s scene before the Lamb enhances a theme begun in yesterday’s passage. Let’s go back and explore it in more depth. The angelic beings proclaim the worthiness of the Lamb to open the scroll of God’s future for creation. In their praise, they declare, “[B]y your blood, you ransomed people for God from every tribe . . . and you have made them a kingdom and priests to our God, and they shall reign on the earth” (Revelation 5:9-10). 

 

This harks back to one of the LORD’s original purposes for his people. Uniquely gifted with consciousness, speech, reflection and capacity to relate to our Creator, we were made to give voice to all creation in praise. When the world fell, humanity’s intimacy with God was severed. We lost our deep connection with each other and with all creation over which we had been placed. Each person became imprisoned in the loneliness of self. God’s long-term plan of salvation, however, included calling one particular people to be a light in the dark for all people. We hear this in Exodus when the LORD speaks to his people after the blood of the lamb saved them from the angel of death and his mighty power led them through the Red Sea:

 

You yourselves have seen what I did to the Egyptians, and how I bore you on eagles’ wings and brought you to myself. Now therefore, if you will indeed obey my voice and keep my covenant, you shall be my treasured possession among all peoples, for all the earth is mine; and you shall be to me a kingdom of priests and a holy nation. (Exodus19:4-6) 

 

God’s people are set apart as a community that reflects the harmony and justice of his design for human flourishing. We who belong to the LORD have always had a priestly function. We represent to the world the one true God who has revealed himself in mighty acts of salvation recorded in his Scripture. We speak and show the truth of the triune God. We also represent humanity to God. We intercede for the lost, taking their side as we ask God to send his Spirit into their hearts. We strive against the darkness as we pray for peace, goodwill, right ordering and true justice to prevail. 

 

Above all, we are worship leaders. We put into words the praise of the one who sits on the throne and the Lamb who has redeemed us by his blood. 

 

In today’s passage we see a vast multitude called out from every ethnicity standing before the Lamb in worship. Though their native languages are many, they speak in one worship voice: “Salvation belongs to our God!” 

 

All these people of various tribes share striking similarities. They are each dressed in dazzling robes and holding palm branches that represent both victory and the peace that follows. These are the witnesses to the truth of who Jesus is and what he has accomplished, both in them and in the world. The same Greek word underlies not only “witnesses” but also “martyrs.” This multitude includes the martyrs who lost their lives under persecution. They have discovered that though we die, yet shall we live. 

 

Curiously, their dazzling robes have been made white by the blood of the Lamb! Nothing stains quite so stubbornly as blood. But the Lamb’s blood is so strong in its atoning power, it washes away all that is dull, soiled, muted or compromised in us. Covered in the blood of the Lamb, we shine in a glory that is not our own yet makes us most truly who we were made to be.

It’s crucial to note the communal nature of this scene. We are often very individualistic in our faith. We can mistakenly think that all that matters is my personal, private response to Christ. But a true reply of faith to Jesus means being united to him. United to the body that is his person, but also, and just as truly, united to his body that is his bride, the church. Yes, we were redeemed for communion with the triune God. But we were redeemed just as surely for communion with the worshipping community of saints. We are not monads, a word that means solitary, self-contained, self-fulfilling creatures. That isolation leads to idolatry of my wishes and way. And so leads to the loneliness of hell! Rather, we are members of a body, a body with myriad members of all types and functions yet united by the praise of the Lamb. 

 

When we reach up and out from ourselves to worship the Lamb who alone is worthy, the heavenly beings make a reply! Our hesitant songs and feeble croaks evoke a symphony of angelic music. Seeing and hearing us praise as redeemed creatures, the immortal spiritual beings fall before the wisdom of God who could work such a mighty redemption. They take up the strands of our worship and magnify them in celestial worship.

 

Moreover, we discover that there is no more unifying act than raising hearts and voices in praise. Do you ever feel that in worship as you glance around at the people whose stories you know, as you marvel at the work of love done in their lives? Sometimes when I am singing to the Lamb, I have held in my mind’s eye people, even loved ones, who have hurt me. I have imagined those who have wounded me singing praise next to me, all of us discovering the power of the Lamb’s blood to atone. In Christ, we enter communion with God and one another.

The book of Revelation recounts a vision John was given. He saw through the veil into the heavenly throne room of God. Christ Jesus himself commissioned John: “Write therefore the things that you have seen, those that are and those that are to take place after that” (Revelation 1:19). John would behold the present reality of worship around the throne. He would also see unfolding what was to come, the foreseeing of God’s redemptive plan for the earth. Early on in his vision, John sees a scroll sealed up with unbreakable seals in the hand of the Creator on the throne. He is dismayed because no one is found worthy to break those seals and discover what is within. His sorrow only dissipates when there appears the Lamb who was slain and who alone can open it.

 

The artist Christopher Powers rendered this image of the Lamb with the scroll. In his blog, Powers comments on the meaning of this event: “The context of “weep no more” in Rev.5:5 is that the “scroll” seems unable to be opened. . . . And what does that mean? Well, I think—and there are many interpretations of it—I think the scroll represents God’s purposes in history. In that sense, we might say that it represents all the hopes, all the longings, all the anticipations of God’s people. It is God’s kingdom coming and His will being done in heaven and earth. Therefore, the inability for this scroll to be opened is the worst thing imaginable. If it were not opened, it would be worse than hell itself, it would be the failure of God . . . the thwarting of His purposes . . . beauty devoured in chaos, hope swallowed up in despair, light extinguished in darkness . . . that is what the unopened scroll would mean.”

 

The scroll represents God’s future purposes for creation. His plans. The possibilities of what lies ahead for the flourishing of humanity on the earth.

 

What does it mean that no one in creation was found worthy to open the way to God’s glorious future? It means that creation itself cannot sustain its own existence. Beings of finite capacity cannot manage or shape a universe so vast and complex as ours. Created beings, no matter how mighty, cannot forge themselves a future of everlasting life. 

 

Simply put, we cannot even keep ourselves alive. We cannot reconcile warring humanity, nor fill in each empty heart. We cannot stem our high propensity to foul everything up, nor can we lift the weight of guilt from our attempts to have life on our own terms. We cannot make everything turn out all right. That discovery is an occasion for sorrow. This job can’t be done. This knot can never be untied. Left to itself, the universe will spin out to its ending. It will expand to nothingness. The stars will burn out. All life will cease. And on our own, there’s absolutely nothing we can do about it. As it is, existence is a tragedy that cannot overcome its own entropy. Grasping this, no wonder John wept loudly.

 

But then. Then comes the news. One of the heavenly elders tells John, “Weep no more; behold, the Lion of the tribe of Judah . . . has conquered.” Expecting to see a mighty lion, John, however, sees instead a lamb. Strangely, the lamb stands but appears as if it had been slain. It is wounded mortally yet standing triumphantly. The contradictory imagery attempts to portray the paradox. The Lamb of God is simultaneously victor and victim, conquering king of the universal jungle of chaos and pierced lamb of a complete sacrificial offering. 

Powers goes on to suggest what this heavenly scene might mean for our daily lives in a broken world:

 

When the elder says to John, “weep no more,” he means that John should not weep over the prospect of the scroll being forever sealed . . . and yet . . . if the scroll is not forever sealed, if it in fact will be opened—if God’s good purposes will be achieved, if the “happy ending” will be invincibly secured—then are not the elder’s words to John also words to us in all of our sorrows? If the Lion has conquered, if the Lamb has overcome, is not all weeping overshadowed in the light of coming and sure joy? Is not all weeping, then, set in its rightful place, enduring for the “night,” while joy is sure to come with the blood-bought morning? (Christopher Powers, “Revelation 5:5,” Full of Eyes.)

The first Christians quickly connected the Passover Lamb and the Suffering Servant with Jesus. We see this clearly in today’s passages. John the Baptist exclaimed over his cousin at the Jordan River, “Look, there is the Lamb of God. There’s the one who takes away the sins of the world.” In encouraging love and purity among the Corinthians, Paul uses a term about Jesus as if it were already commonly understood: “For Christ our Passover is sacrificed for us.” The lamb whose blood turns away the angel of death is Jesus. Now God passes over our sins by the atoning blood of Jesus marked on our hearts through the Spirit in faith. 

 

Peter makes the connection between the blood of Jesus the Lamb and the motivation and means of our changed lives. He urges his readers to consider ever more deeply the price Christ paid so that we do not take our forgiveness lightly. Something has happened that changes everything. It propels us into a renewed future.

 

Peter reminds us that once we did not know better than to follow our passions. We were clueless about the way of life that flows from sacrificial love. We did not know who God truly is, and so we were ignorant of how to live as created image bearers for the glory of God. He speaks of  “the passions of your former ignorance.” We used to act on our first impulse on base desire, only making a bigger mess of our lives. Indeed, our whole way of life before Christ was “futile.” We were in bondage to lies about what makes for fulfillment and meaning. We couldn’t help ourselves. Appetites and pride locked us into an endless cycle. Consumption then regret. Offended then angry. Spending sprees then debt collectors. Revenge then wounds that remain. Greed then emptiness. Taking not giving and afterwards feeling like we had even less. Habits, addictions and compulsions in the name of our freedom to do what we want that left us more enslaved than ever.

 

But Christ ransomed us from bondage. A person taken as a slave might be redeemed, that is bought back, by a friend or relative who would pay the price of freedom. It took more than money to set us free. It took the precious blood of the unblemished lamb. A Passover lamb that was the eternal Son of God in human flesh. The only man who ever lived in full faithfulness, perfect obedience and consistent love. His holiness was condemned by human malice, but that was the plan. To take sin upon himself. To ransom us from ourselves. To buy us out of bondage to our own corrupt hearts. The price was Jesus’ precious flesh and blood. He who so loved his Father had to experience the horrifying hell of God-forsakenness. Only by that searing sacrifice can we be regathered into the Father’s everlasting arms.

Peter reveals that Jesus as the Lamb of God is not just a lovely theological concept. The Lamb who sheds blood has redeemed us for a purpose. Our freedom from sin’s consequence and power brings about a life of renewed relationship. Now we can live out our creational calling to walk in the image of our just, loving, sacrificing God. Jesus did not pay such a ransom so that we could keep trying to live the life of our own selfish dreams. No, he has something much better for us.

 

Now in gratitude for our freedom, we can love others the way Jesus loved us. Pope John Paul II loved this insight, “Man cannot fully find himself except in a sincere gift of self.” (3 Pope John Paul II, Gaudium et Spes, 24.) We find the meaning of our lives only by giving ourselves away in service to our Redeemer. This service takes the form of loving one another. We expend sweat, tears, and sometimes even blood to care for those God gives us to love. 

 

To put it more pointedly, did Christ the Lamb of God ransom me from slavery so I could stay glued comfortably to the couch for one more episode? Did people give their lives to preserve the Bible so I could know more football statistics than Scriptures? Or rather, did Jesus pay such a price to free me so that I could join him in gathering lost lambs back to the fold? Did he not reveal the futile ways of life offered by a consumer culture precisely so I could expend more time, money, effort, attention, humor and kindness to share his love?

Lord Jesus Christ, Lamb of God 

Who takes away the sins of the world,

Have mercy on me.

 

Christ our Passover, sacrificed for us,

I will keep the feast of remembering

Your mighty acts of redemption.

All you did for the world of lost people,

All you did for me.

 

Your dying frees me from sin,

Your rising frees me from death,

Your return frees me from fear. 

Your rule frees me from falling back

Into the chaos of self.

 

You are the new and living way,

You are the better path forward.

 

Jesus the Lamb of God,

Christ our Passover,

I will keep the feast of love

To which you call me.

Sincerity, initiative, true speech, 

Earnestness, obedience, purity,

Affection and welcome,

These I offer you today,

 

With the heartfelt request that you

Continue to free me, cleanse me,

Restore me and send me. 

 

Fast forward from the exodus from Egypt to the days when a disobedient Israel went into exile in Babylon. Through his prophets, the LORD convicted his people of idolatry and injustice and called them to repentance. Still, they continued to rebel, and the consequences were dire. However, although God banished them to Babylon for seventy years, he threaded hope through Isaiah’s words. A redeeming servant of the LORD would appear. The one true and faithful Israelite. The one who could live, suffer and die on behalf of the many. While elsewhere God had promised a mighty Messiah who would conquer all enemies, in the servant songs of Isaiah he promised a suffering Savior as well. 

 

Once again, a passage from the Hebrew Bible would have remained baffling to the people until Christ came. With the arrival of the Son of God in Jesus, we see that Isaiah 53 makes a clear connection between the unique servant of the LORD and the Lamb of God who takes away sins. This beautiful poetry forms the bridge from the lamb in the stories of Abel, Abraham and Exodus to Jesus the Lamb. The offerings of lambs in sacrifice were always pointing towards a greater reality. Actual lamb’s blood could never fully and finally atone for human sins. The animal offerings foreshadowed a reconciliation with God we desperately needed. But a true restoration to right relationship required a redeemer who could actually represent us as one of us. 

 

Yet the sacrifices were by no means a waste. The centuries of offering animals accustomed God’s people to understanding that one can take away the sins of another. The tracks were laid down for us to apprehend how the servant of the Lord could substitute for us. This one faithful man bore our sins in himself so that he could “make many to be accounted righteous” (Isaiah 53:11). 

 

It is extremely difficult to work out just how the suffering of the Servant could heal us and bring us peace (Isaiah 53:5). But the centuries of the sacrificial system made it possible for the people to realize intuitively that “the LORD has laid on him the iniquity of us all” and “with his stripes we are healed” (Isaiah 53:6, 5). But only when Jesus came could the glorious truth crash in upon human understanding. Jesus is the vicarious man. The faithfulness he has lived, the atoning death he has died, the very life-giving power of his resurrection can be ours! We become joined to Jesus by the Holy Spirit as we put our trust in him through faith. 

Isaiah 53 draws us in magnetically. Life in this world is full of seasons of loneliness and sadness. Much we love falls away. Beauty gets marred. Evil steals joy. But hope awakes when we read about “a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief” (verse 3). This one does not suffer only for himself. Rather, “surely he has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows” (verse 4). Jesus takes the weight of the world upon himself. He experiences human suffering in a way that makes him our companion. Even more, he helps us bear the load, to make sense of the pain and have hope in the loss. Though he was the eternal Son of God who could not die, he took up a humanity that could indeed be pierced, crushed and killed. We are sheep that go astray, turning destructively to our own paths (verse 6). But Jesus is the Lamb innocent of all sin who gives himself wholly up even to death, as a sheep led to slaughter (verse 7). In the mysterious exchange of God’s love, he offers up himself to take our sin. Then he gives us his righteousness. Jesus undergoes our suffering in such a way that no sorrows of ours are ever again borne alone. And all our suffering gets folded into his redemptive plan. 

 

Today, come to him with your sins and seek confidently the forgiveness for which he gave his life’s blood. Offer to him your sorrow and see how Jesus takes it just like he did a crown of thorns. Show him your wounds and see him press his nail-scarred hands into yours bringing the warmth of healing love. Go to the Lamb this very hour!

 

Exodus 12:1-13

 

The LORD said to Moses and Aaron in the land of Egypt, “This month shall be for you the beginning of months. It shall be the first month of the year for you. Tell all the congregation of Israel that on the tenth day of this month every man shall take a lamb according to their fathers’ houses, a lamb for a household. . . . Your lamb shall be without blemish, a male a year old . . . and you shall keep it until the fourteenth day of this month, when the whole assembly of the congregation of Israel shall kill their lambs at twilight.

 

“Then they shall take some of the blood and put it on the two doorposts and the lintel of the houses in which they eat it. They shall eat the flesh that night, roasted on the fire; with unleavened bread and bitter herbs they shall eat it. . . . In this manner you shall eat it: with your belt fastened, your sandals on your feet, and your staff in your hand. And you shall eat it in haste. It is the LORD’s Passover. For I will pass through the land of Egypt that night, and I will strike all the firstborn in the land of Egypt, both man and beast; and on all the gods of Egypt I will execute judgments: I am the LORD. The blood shall be a sign for you, on the houses where you are. And when I see the blood, I will pass over you, and no plague will befall you to destroy you, when I strike the land of Egypt.”

Centuries after Abraham, the LORD’s people were enslaved in Egypt. God raised up Moses to demand that Pharaoh set his people free. The ruler of Egypt continually refused even after God sent the plagues upon the land. Finally, the time had come for the tenth plague which would break even the will of Pharaoh. The angel of death would pass through Egypt slaying every firstborn animal and human. But the LORD provided a way to protect his own people. Each household was to sacrifice a lamb and then do three things: 1) place blood from the lamb over the doorposts of their homes so the lethal angel would see the mark and “pass over” the firstborn within, 2) feast on the lamb eating all of it as a sign of participating in the sacrifice, and  3) dress ready to depart as soon as Pharaoh released them. 

 

Once more, we are reminded of the gravity of the lives we have been given. We were made to be in relationship with our Creator. This is a joyful and fulfilling purpose. It is also serious business. Consequences follow rebelling against the love by which and for which we were made. Human willful sin invited death into the world. Open defiance of God’s will continues to open a channel of deathliness. Often we may not see the connection clearly, but the event of the first Passover reveals the stakes plainly to us.

 

Death is due to defiance of the LORD’s good will for humanity. Through the course of our lives, God patiently endures with us. But when the time for judgment is at hand, an account must be given. The lamb at Passover symbolized the offering of a pure, undefiled and precious substitute for the firstborn. The life is in the blood, and the blood of the lamb was placed over the entrance to the house to act as a covering for the entire household. Moreover, everyone within the house willingly and fully participated in the offering by partaking of the lamb. There was communion with the sacrifice and with one another. They also prepared to be responsive. The grace of the angel of death passing over their houses was but the prelude to the obedience of the people in departing swiftly from Egypt, leaving behind the old life and heading for the Promised Land.

Jesus, you are the new and living way.

Your blood alone brings eternal life.

For I know the truth of your Word

That the wages of sin is death.

 

I would rather it not be so.

I wish you could just overlook everything,

Just be nice and make it all right.

But my bent mind, my wandering heart,

My toxic estrangement from you and others

Requires a more costly solution.

 

I need the blood of the Lamb over me.

I require partaking of you in faith,

I must come back into community

From the isolation of myself

In my stubborn independence. 

 

I dare not appear before your throne

Dressed in the rags of my own righteousness,

Made up with the cosmetics of my pride.

 

I come with the blood of your cross

Signed upon my forehead.

Its sticky, staining, vivid red

Alone washes me clean.

 

I know that the angel of death 

Still comes to us all,

But pass over my sins, 

See, your blood is on the door 

Of my life-house.

I partake of you with the entire

Household of faith, 

No longer aloof, but 

Singing and serving the Lamb. 

 

Genesis 22:1-14 

 

After these things God tested Abraham and said to him, “Abraham!” And he said, “Here I am.” He said, “Take your son, your only son Isaac, whom you love, and go to the land of Moriah, and offer him there as a burnt offering on one of the mountains of which I shall tell you.” So Abraham rose early in the morning, saddled his donkey, and took two of his young men with him, and his son Isaac. And he cut the wood for the burnt offering and arose and went to the place of which God had told him. On the third day Abraham lifted up his eyes and saw the place from afar. Then Abraham said to his young men, “Stay here with the donkey; I and the boy will go over there and worship and come again to you.” And Abraham took the wood of the burnt offering and laid it on Isaac his son. And he took in his hand the fire and the knife. So they went both of them together. And Isaac said to his father Abraham, “My father!” And he said, “Here I am, my son.” He said, “Behold, the fire and the wood, but where is the lamb for a burnt offering?” Abraham said, “God will provide for himself the lamb for a burnt offering, my son.” So they went both of them together.

 

When they came to the place of which God had told him, Abraham built the altar there and laid the wood in order and bound Isaac his son and laid him on the altar, on top of the wood. Then Abraham reached out his hand and took the knife to slaughter his son. But the angel of the LORD called to him from heaven and said, “Abraham, Abraham!” And he said, “Here I am.” He said, “Do not lay your hand on the boy or do anything to him, for now I know that you fear God, seeing you have not withheld your son, your only son, from me.” And Abraham lifted up his eyes and looked, and behold, behind him was a ram, caught in a thicket by his horns. And Abraham went and took the ram and offered it up as a burnt offering instead of his son. So Abraham called the name of that place, “The LORD will provide”; as it is said to this day, “On the mount of the LORD it shall be provided.”

 

View the first interruption of your plans as an opportunity God has ordained for you to show love, compassion and service. 

 

Ask God to move you to initiate one text, email, card or call to someone who needs encouragement.

 

Give up for this day a habit or vice to which you are prone.

 

Make an over-and-above financial gift to God as a token of love. 

 

Make a list of ten things you love about Jesus, then read those to him.

Isaiah 65:17-25

 

“For behold, I create new heavens 

     and a new earth,

and the former things shall not be remembered

     or come into mind.

But be glad and rejoice forever

     in that which I create;

for behold, I create Jerusalem to be a joy,

     and her people to be a gladness.

I will rejoice in Jerusalem

     and be glad in my people;

no more shall be heard in it the sound of weeping

     and the cry of distress.

No more shall there be in it

     an infant who lives but a few days,

     or an old man who does not fill out his days. . . . 

 

They shall build houses and inhabit them;

     they shall plant vineyards and eat their fruit.

They shall not build and another inhabit;

     they shall not plant and another eat;

for like the days of a tree shall the days of my people be,

     and my chosen shall long enjoy the work of their hands.

They shall not labor in vain

     or bear children for calamity,

for they shall be the offspring of the blessed of the LORD,

     and their descendants with them.

Before they call I will answer;

     while they are yet speaking I will hear.

The wolf and the lamb shall graze together;

     the lion shall eat straw like the ox,

     and dust shall be the serpent’s food.

They shall not hurt or destroy

     in all my holy mountain,” says the LORD.

 

Revelation 21:1-2, 5a

 

Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away. . . . And he who was seated on the throne said, “Behold, I am making all things new.” 

In the 6th century BC, God’s people prepared to return from seventy years of exile in Babylon. They longed to rebuild Jerusalem and especially to restore the temple of the LORD. Being home in their own land and worshipping in freedom seemed a grand enough dream. But then the LORD spoke a vision through Isaiah that was even more wonderful. He promised to create once more: to create a world recognizable as earth, but yet remade at the very heart. New because the chilly stripe of sadness that runs through everything will be replaced with joy. Gone will be the sorrow over an infant’s dying. No more frustration over a life’s work left incomplete. Injustice and strife, tragic accidents and sudden disasters will vanish. People will live and work in harmony. Peace will reign to such an extent that a child can play safely near a serpent. A lamb can nuzzle up to a lion. Everything will work as we have ever dreamed. No more hurting or destroying. 

 

Isaiah’s prophecy looked well beyond the time when he wrote it. As he did in so many ways, Isaiah foresaw the coming of Jesus. Something new would interrupt the world. God would enter his creation. The new creation would begin in the womb of Mary. As we noted yesterday, Jesus was humanity made right again. His faithfulness through life and death reconstructed the very life of man. His return from death in a resurrection body became the pledge of all creation being made new. That Jesus returned to heaven still joined to our humanity now restored means that he is the guarantee of the new creation reworking the old. 

 

The book of Revelation picks up this theme of re-creation. In John’s vision, the new heavens and earth descend into our present world. In other words, there is continuity. It’s the earth we know. But made right. Healed. So vivid with rightness and harmony and peacefulness that we might hardly recognize it. Revelation depicts “the throne of God and of the lamb” in the center of a new Jerusalem. Echoing Eden, a river of the water of life will flow from God’s throne right down the middle of the city. The great tree of life will grow on either side of this river. Its fruit will no longer be forbidden. But all will eat of it, and the once-warring nations will find their healing. We will be reconciled to God, to one another and to all of nature. The Garden will become even more than it had been (see Revelation 22:1-5).

The central miracle asserted by Christians is the Incarnation. They say that God became Man. Every other miracle prepares for this, or exhibits this, or results from this. . . .

 

In the Christian story God descends to re-ascend. He comes down; down from the heights of absolute being into time and space, down into humanity . . . down to the very roots and sea-bed of the Nature He has created. But He goes down to come up again and bring the whole ruined world up with Him.

 

One has the picture of a strong man stooping lower and lower to get himself underneath some great complicated burden. He must stoop in order to lift, he must almost disappear under the load before he incredibly straightens his back and marches off with the whole mass swaying on his shoulders.

 

C. S. Lewis, Miracles (New York: Macmillan, 1947), 112, 115.

 

2 Corinthians 5:17

 

Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come.

 

Ephesians 2:4, 8-10  

 

But God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ. . . . For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast. For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them.

 

Ephesians 4:21-24

 

You . . . were taught . . . to put off your old self, which belongs to your former manner of life and is corrupt through deceitful desires, and to be renewed in the spirit of your minds, and to put on the new self, created after the likeness of God in true righteousness and holiness.

 

This week we have been meditating on the triune God who created the heavens and the earth. Today we consider that God continues to create. And we know why. Creation has been marred by the rebellion of the LORD’s image bearers. From our first parents onward, we in a myriad ways try to be our own gods. We want to do life our way, mistakenly believing we can create for ourselves more fulfillment than comes through following the will of our Creator. From such choices decay, dysfunction and death enter God’s good creation. In short, humans have made a mess of it. We require more than an improvement plan. We need to be created anew.

 

That’s a wonderful theme in the New Testament. The old creation can be remade through Christ. By his faithful life, his atoning death and his triumphant resurrection, Jesus became the new Adam. He is the man the Father always planned humanity would be. In Christ, a man lived out oneness with the Father. Now we can get in on that harmony by being joined to Jesus. How? He sends his Spirit into our hearts, and we become a new creation. In faith, we bow the knee of our hearts and call upon the name of the Lord to be saved. This transformation is dramatic. In Ephesians 2, Paul puts it starkly. We were dead in sin. But we become joined to the spiritual power of Jesus’ physical resurrection so that together with Jesus, we come alive. 

 

This new life is wonderful. Some have said it’s like going from black and white to full-color vision. We become more ourselves than we ever knew we could be. Our hearts open to God’s reality. Purpose propels us. Joy flows even in sorrow. Peace pervades in trial. Hope springs anew that all is well and all shall be well in Christ. As we read, “The old has passed away and the new has come.” 

 

We also discover that being a new creation in Christ is not just for ourselves. Paul says to the Corinthians, “All this is from God, who through Christ reconciled us to himself and gave us the ministry of reconciliation . . . entrusting to us the message of reconciliation. Therefore, we are ambassadors for Christ” (2 Corinthians 5:18-20). We were made new in order to offer that new life of Christ to the world. We are now emissaries from our King. We have a message of reconciliation to share. 

 

In Ephesians, Paul reminds us that being Jesus’ representatives means we live out the character of new creation. We were “created in Christ Jesus for good works.” Good works don’t recreate us. But good works are the way God wants us to express the new life he has wrought in us through Christ’s death and resurrection. 

 

This gets very graphic. Don’t ever pick up that stinky dead carcass of a life without Christ! We know now that the impulse toward revenge leads to shame, not satisfaction. We know now that pursuing pleasure, power or prestige over the glory of God leaves us with baskets full of nothingness. We know that undermining, gossiping and lying ruin love. That dead stuff is so yesterday! 

 

Now we have been given the power of the Spirit to live out of the new creation Christ has already made us. We’ve been created in the image of the new Adam, Jesus. Now we can live following this pattern: “Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ forgave you” (Ephesians 4:32). 

Wait upon his gaze. Attend to his Spirit’s breeze upon you. You’re not what you once were. What happened is him.

God is love. As far as we know, no one in the history of the world ever wrote that before the apostle John penned 1 John 4:8. So simple, yet so endlessly profound. God is love. Love means relationship. God exists in an eternal relationship of love. The Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit have loved each other from all eternity. Out of that love, the one God who is three persons created new life. Life meant to be lived in relationship. In love. We humans loving God and one another. Because God first loved us. 

 

How did we come to know this? Because the Son of God came to us as the man Jesus. The first disciples constantly reflected on just who they had followed for three years. They thought about a man who could walk across the sea and still the waves with a word. They knew the man born blind who was made to see by the touch of Jesus. They felt the peace emanating from one tortured by and delivered from demons cast out by the command 

of Jesus.

 

This Jesus ever talked of God as his Father, the two being so close that Jesus could say, “I and the Father are one” (John 10:30). “I am the resurrection and the life” (John 11:25), he told a grieving Martha. But more, this man from Nazareth, who had been a baby in Mary’s arms, said, “For as the Father has life in himself, so he has granted the Son also to have life in himself” (John 5:26). They saw Jesus die and then saw him alive again so that Thomas, touching the wounds of the once-dead Jesus, would declare the astounding truth, “My Lord and my God!” (John 20:28). The man Jesus is the eternal Son of God who took up a real humanity.  

 

Following Jesus’ death and resurrection, it did not take long for his followers to think through all this meant. Within twenty years of Jesus’ time on earth, Paul could write, “[Y]et for us there is one God, the Father, from whom are all things and for whom we exist, and one Lord, Jesus Christ, through whom are all things and through whom we exist” (1 Corinthians 8:6). The one LORD God of Israel is Father and Son. Creation comes from the Father through the Son. God spoke creation into being, but God’s Word is a person. In time, Jesus’ disciples put it together further: the one God is three! God the Father created through his Son in the Spirit, that same Spirit who hovered over the primeval waters. 

 

These complex insights underlie the glorious simplicity: God is love. As John’s epistle continues, “In this the love of God was made manifest among us, that God sent his only Son into the world, so that we might live through him” (1 John 4:9). The triune Creator showed himself in Jesus. The man who walked among us, who gave his life on a cross, is no less than the Son of God through all things were made. And he is profoundly for us. For God is love. 

The God to whom I pray is none other than the Jesus who cooked breakfast on a charcoal fire for his disciples (John 21:9). He walked the dusty roads of Israel, learned a carpenter’s trade, and noticed the farming and shepherding of his people. He loved children, received the touch of a sinful woman, and noticed and felt deeply the suffering of others. The notorious and compromised were drawn to him. This man is the same Son of God through whom all things were made!

 

And Jesus is the exact imprint of his Father. He is God’s face revealed to us. He shows us that God is this way, like him, and not another way. This is the best possible news. The Creator God is Jesus who came to us, cared for us and gave his life for us. The Maker to whom I pray is the man I meet in the gospels! He calls me by name. I know that voice and that I belong to him.

This passage begins and ends with the LORD’s mighty declaration that he himself made us and formed us. Within these bookends of our createdness, we discover God’s deep, specific personal love. 

 

I still remember my first intense encounter with these words. I was twenty years old and preparing for a long summer trip abroad. There would be deeper waters and hotter fires to encounter in years to come, but what I experienced from Isaiah 43 that summer would be a foundation for trusting God in more intense times.

 

I would be going first to a country where I did not speak or understand much of the language. My English major skills would be of little use. Then I would be meeting a whole new set of people in an academic environment that could be daunting. I feared making embarrassing mistakes, being shown up as inadequate, or just being lonely. But Isaiah 43 undercut those fears. Let’s pick up a few threads:

 

I have called you by name, you are mine. God knows me, not as a number but by name. He knows me particularly and individually. I belong to him. I may go far away from my earthly country, but I am never homeless. I never stop belonging to the God who made me and knows me.

 

When you pass through the waters, I will be with you. I worried about getting from the plane to the train station. I agonized about keeping all my stuff together, buying a ticket and finding the right train. I feared being seen as a scared kid and rounded up by predators. Indeed, I did make travel mistakes and had embarrassing encounters. There were waters and flames that summer. But after reading Isaiah 43, I never felt abandoned.

 

You are precious in my eyes, and honored, and I love you. The LORD spoke those words straight to my heart. He loves me. Me as me. Me in my uniqueness, quirkiness, fear and excitement. I matter to God. Knowing me completely because he is my Creator, he loves me truly.

 

I give . . . peoples in exchange for your life. I know this verse raises the question as to whether some people are more valuable than others in God’s sight. But that wasn’t what struck me back then. What I heard was that in a place where I would be unknown, God would not stop knowing me. Where I could be discarded as a foreigner, God would hold me up with his particular and personal care. He would not forget me when I was in a sea of people who would barely even notice me. 

 

From the end of the earth, everyone who is called by my name. Not only did God know my name, he conferred his name upon me. I am his son. I was made, not for myself, but for his glory. I bear the mark of the Creator upon me, and his name is the guarantee that I will be brought home to him. Home from that summer abroad, yes, but also home in Christ forever. 

 

I spin and strive, bob and weave, never coming to rest

Lest I face the possibility that nothing I do can be enough

To warrant your acceptance, let alone your pleasure.

If I stop, I might fall into the hole of my nothingness.

 

But you catch me off guard with these words.

Just when I think I will get the exile I deserve,

You gather me to yourself. 

You are not embarrassed that you made me.

You say that I am precious, treasured, sought.

When you made me you committed to me.

You honor me now with your full attention.

 

You say, “You are mine.”

My heart replies in wonder, “I am yours.”

You call me by my name, you call me your child.

I respond, “My Father and my God!” 

 

I face the rising waters and feel your hand.

I make ready to walk into the flames

With your protective arms wrapped around me. 

 

You say, “You are precious and I love you,”

And my heart quiets. The spinning stops.

“I love you too. My Maker and Savior.”

 

No matter how many times I contemplate it, Psalm 139 always refreshes and amazes me. I hope it will have a similar effect on you as we move today from considering that God made the world to the staggering personal truth that God made you. Specifically, intentionally, joyfully, particularly, God created you. And he remains vitally involved with you. His thoughts toward you outnumber the grains of sand in the desert. And even though you forget about God, or slip into sleep, or even lose your right mind, God is still thinking about you. His thoughts wrap you in love and sustain you with life. 

 

Today, I’d like us to consider this profound sentence: It is good that you exist. Say this aloud right now: “It is good that I exist.” Listen to those words. In the midst of the swiftly passing years, God speaks an eternal truth in this present moment: It is good that you exist. Amid all your stresses and your delights, your toil and your loves, your frailty and your strength, God declares his deep opinion of you: It is good that you exist. 

 

German theologian Joseph Ratzinger, who spent the last two decades of his life as Pope Benedict XVI, reflected deeply on this truth. He is worth quoting at length: 

 

Where does joy come from? . . . The crucial factor is . . . based on faith: I am wanted; I have a task in history; I am accepted, I am loved. . . . Man can only accept himself if he is accepted by another. He needs the other’s presence, saying to him, with more than words: it is good that you exist. . . .

 

This sense of being accepted comes in the first instance from other human beings. But all human acceptance is fragile. Ultimately we need a sense of being accepted unconditionally. Only if God accepts me, and I become convinced of this, do I know definitively: it is good that I exist. It is good to be a human being.

 

If ever man’s sense of being accepted and loved by God is lost, then there is no longer any answer to the question of whether to be a human being is good at all. Doubt concerning human existence becomes more and more insurmountable. Where doubt over God becomes prevalent, then doubt over humanity follows inevitably. We see today how widely this doubt is spreading. We see it in the joylessness, in the inner sadness that can be read on so many human faces today.

 

Only faith gives me the conviction: It is good that I exist. It is good to be a human being, even in hard times. 

 

Pope Benedict XVI, Address on December 22, 2011, Pt. 5.

 

Why am I here? Adolescents ask that question as they try to find their life’s path. Adults ask that question after a profession proves deadening, or a marriage falls apart, or the investment sinks to nothing. The elderly ask that question in the tedium of lonely days made of just getting through to the next. Why do I carry on? What is the point of my life? 

 

The extraordinary message of Psalm 139 is that God made me on purpose. He notices me. He accepts me. He attends to my emotions, thoughts and prayers. He cares. And he takes pleasure in my living, even if it should be confused or diminished or difficult. For much of my life, I will have, no matter my faults and flaws, the ability to reach up to God. To give thanks. To declare his praise. To share his love in word, work, or prayer. It is good that I exist. Because I belong to God and always will.

 

Making an Extra Stitch: Science vs. Scripture? Creation vs. Evolution?

 

How many of us have suffered the shock of childhood faith encountering evolution? A simple belief in creation suddenly smacks up against a theory that all things can be explained by evolutionary development. We become ashamed of our faith in God’s intentional creation for this theory seems to account for human life through the gradual change and development of species via a series of random mutations, worked out through the survival of the fittest over billions of years. It can seem that no super-intending by God was needed. This all just happened. The belief in creation seems childish and unnecessary. Suddenly it can seem that science opposes Scripture as if one has to choose creation or evolution, faith or reason. 

 

But what if this is a false dichotomy? An unnecessary contradiction? What if a six-day creation a few thousand years ago or unguided development over billions of years are not the only options?

 

Let’s take a moment to consider the crucial difference between physics and metaphysics. 

 

In its most basic, broadest definition, physics explores the mechanics of what exists. It explains the properties and phenomena of how things are in the cosmos. As such, physics considers the questions of “how” and “what.” How does gravity behave? What causes the Earth to spin?  

 

Meta is a Greek preposition that means “above.” In this sense, meta-physics means doing physics from above. In other words, it entails asking the “why” questions about “what” we observe. Why is there something and not nothing? Why did these forces that keep the earth spinning come into being? Metaphysics considers questions of meaning. 

 

When we talk about the hard sciences, we are not talking about metaphysics. Chemistry, biology and the specific physics of matter and energy do not address questions of meaning or purpose. Rather, these each consider the nature and function of the physical reality around us. That’s science. It has many strengths and also profound limits. 

 

However, when we talk about philosophy and theology, we think about metaphysics. All the “why” questions and the meaning statements come to bear. Theology may employ the beautiful insights of science about the “what” of this complex universe. After all, noticing creation leads to doxology, that is, praising God. But theology’s focus is on the purpose and goal of the creation being observed. For example, theology’s task is not to map the human genome, but it may draw important implications of meaning from the ordered intricacy science uncovered in our genes.

 

Physics (i.e. science) and metaphysics (i.e. theology) properly raise and answer different questions. But, of course, the two interact. After all, we think and feel on many levels. But when one discipline purports to take the place of the other, much is lost.

 

Scientism occurs when the physics of science begins to claim ultimate priority for its way of exploring the universe. In that case, scientists assume to answer the questions of meaning or lack of meaning in what exists. They claim metaphysical territory. Such scientism can offer safe harbor to those who would rather there not be a God to whom we are accountable. The human impulse to be our own gods finds a platform in a metaphysics that there is no other intent or purpose in life beyond what we give it. 

 

Similarly, believers in Scripture can create an unnecessary war with science if we insist that passages such as Genesis 1 and 2 can only be read like a contemporary science textbook. Then, for example, we expend enormous effort trying to explain, by today’s science, how daylight could be on the earth before the sun was created. But Scripture speaks with language higher and more enduring than any particular culture’s way of expression. After all, scientific theories are always updating or upheaving, but the meaning of the earth’s intentional creation by God speaks truthfully and transformationally across cultures and centuries. 

 

With all that said, having the metaphysical worldview of Scripture actually makes us better scientists. Believing in a purposeful, ordered and intentional creation ignites inquiry about how it all works. Trusting in a Creator also frees us to innovate because we are not enslaved to whatever theories are current. We can question the dogmas of scientism the way brave believers once questioned the assumed truth that the sun revolves around the Earth. Therefore, we can, as good scientists, pursue true physics. We can joyfully inquire about how the world actually works. For example, we can ask questions about literal six-day creationism, unguided macroevolution, and any positions in between. 

 

On the one hand, if we grant that Genesis 1 can still be true while speaking primarily about metaphysics, then we are free to ask questions about the physics of the world. The earth appears to be older than a few thousand years. Light comes from stars millions of light years away. The continents appear to have once been connected but are now separated. Spontaneous generation, organisms popping into being, does not seem to be occurring now. Did it once? 

 

On the other hand, we are also free to ask questions about evolution. For we know that it is profoundly not unscientific to ask, “If all this developed through random mutations surviving through survival of the fittest over long periods of time, where is the fossil evidence for the millions of transitional species there must have been?” Or “How does the rising development of complexity in species fit with the second law of thermodynamics, the reality of entropy that things tend towards decay?” Or “How do we account for the ‘irreducible complexity’ in such things as sight and blood coagulation if they developed mutation by mutation over time?” Or “Why do species that supposedly developed in different epochs appear all together in the Cambrian fossils?”  

 

If we grant that the purview of science is exploring the nature of what exists, not the meaning of why things exist, we can see that the existence of a Creator is not unscientific at all. In fact, the more we know about the cosmos, the more its complexity, unity and harmonious interaction all shout out the presence of a Designer. It is not unreasonable to assert a Creator. Rather, it is the better explanation for what we observe.

 

We need to understand the distinction between physics and metaphysics to face the reality of God and to explore openly the way God may have created.

 

To further contemplate the beauty of creation and the interaction between faith and science, you might enjoy downloading the app from Ken Boa Museum of Created Beauty or check out kenboa.org. You might also like the series of videos called "Wonder: The Harmony of Faith and Science" narrated by Jonathan Roumie.