Tag Archives: suffering

How We Are Not Moved: Jesus in Psalm 125

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Psalm 125:1-2 —

Those who trust in the Lord are like Mount Zion,
which cannot be moved, but abides forever.
As the mountains surround Jerusalem,
so the Lord surrounds his people,
from this time forth and forevermore.

Calvin on the meaning of this psalm,

"Although the world is subject to so many and so sudden changes as almost to put on a new face every moment, and although the faithful are mingled with and placed in the same external condition as others, yet their safety continues steadfast under the invincible protection of God." (Commentary on the Book of Psalms, vol. V, 90.)

Calvin is right. You could stop reading now and be good to go. But there is more here. If we were to flip through the surrounding pages we see that the superscript in Psalm 125 is repeated. In fact, Psalms 120–134 are all "Songs of Ascents." This refers to Israel’s "coming up" out of Babylonian captivity and sets the theme as Israel’s return from exile to Jerusalem. Each psalm shows us a little more.

Song of Ascents Rundown

Psalm 120 gives the exilic cry, "Woe is me, that I sojourn in Meschech, that I dwell among the tends of Kedar!" (v. 5). Then Psalm 121 reminds us that the Lord is our keeper, he’ll keep our going out and coming in (v. 8). Psalm 122 directs us to a restored Jerusalem as our hope and prayer (v. 5). This is to say, a Jerusalem under the kingship of Messiah (v. 6). Then Psalm 123 refines our hope — "our eyes look to the Lord our God." (v. 2). The Lord alone is our salvation. And Psalm 124 assures us of this by recounting Israel’s deliverance from Egypt (vv. 1-5). Psalm 125 interjects a vision of Jerusalem once more. Mount Zion (Jerusalem) is the picture of one who trusts in the Lord. This person, like Jerusalem, will not be moved but abides forever. Psalm 126 longs for this reality, "Restore our fortunes, O Lord!" (v. 4). Psalm 127 then configures our hope to the blessing of children. But it’s not just any children. This "Song of Ascents of Solomon" looks to the offspring of David. David’s son, Solomon, is still looking for the promised son. Psalm 128 envisions the flourishing of Jerusalem under the reign of David’s son. Psalm 129 is another snapshot of reality. Circumstances are bad for this exiled people, but the Lord is righteous and all who hate Zion will be put to shame (v. 5). Psalm 130 and 131 model what it means to have faith, calling for Israel to hope in the Lord (130:7; 131:3). Then Psalm 132 comes with the central message of the Songs of Ascents: The Lord made a promise to David to set one of his sons on the throne of Zion forever. This is one of the clearest pictures of Old Testament faith in Jesus. It’s followed in Psalm 133 with a picture of unity, a glorious implication of a reunited kingdom. And then Psalm 134 concludes that ordering our worship, "bless the Lord!"

So What About Psalm 125?

Calvin is right, remember? The circumstances of this world are volatile and crazy, but God’s people live under his invincible protection. But why? How? This is what the surrounding Songs of Ascents help us understand. Our hope in an abiding, protected, eternal Jerusalem is a hope in Messiah and his reign. God’s promise to David about Jesus included a dwelling place of peace — no disturbance, no violence (2 Samuel 7:10-11). But you don’t get a Jerusalem like that without a king like Jesus. That’s what Psalm 125 is getting at.

Mount Zion cannot be shaken because another mountain was. Actually, it was a hill, called Golgotha. Years after this psalm was written, one Friday afternoon, at about the ninth hour, this promised King died. Jesus Christ died for us, bearing the wrath we deserved. He suffered in our place, making atonement for our sins. The only reason the Lord can "surround his people from this time forth and forevermore" is because on that hill he didn’t surround his Son.

But this King would live forever. Yes, and after his thorns and cross came his throne and crown. Jesus conquered our sin in his death. Then he conquered death by his resurrection. And it’s because of this — and this alone — that we can go about our days under the Lord‘s invincible protection. The tomb is empty, Jesus reigns, and we cannot be moved.

(See the original post at FighterVerses.com)

A Short Review of Henri Blocher’s Evil and the Cross

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Henri Blocher, Evil and the Cross, (Leicester: InterVarsity, 1994)

The standard question at the core of the evil and theology is how evil can exist in the same reality of an all-good, all-powerful God—or as Blocher writes, “a God who is good and sovereign cannot permissively decree that the creature shall choose against the Creator” (100). Some attractive reasoning puts forth the idea that an all-good God is too good to let evil exist and an all-powerful God is strong enough to bring it to an end. Based upon this reasonable premise, a few options emerge:

1) God is wholly powerful, but not wholly good

2) God is wholly good, but not wholly powerful

3) God is neither wholly powerful nor good.

It is this “intuitive” premise that allows humans to so commonly speak of evil as a problem. It is a baffling reality that many thinkers that ventured to understand. Henri Blocher writes,

Finally, the question of the victory of evil,  a question that is both existential and religious, deserves to be called the ultimate question, if it is not the first. For a humanity that is overwhelmed by suffering (evil endured) and guilt (evil committed), that is the question that matters (13).

In his book, Evil and the Cross: An Analytical Look at the Problem of Pain, Blocher considers three different solutions of human reason to the existence of evil—optimisim, pessimism, and dualism. Blocher traces these solutions throughout major theological and philosophical attempts explain evil. The tensions that are difficult to hold together in each of these attempts is the evil of evil, the lordship of the Lord, and the goodness of God (100). Blocher analyzes the three approach in light of this immovable criterion.

Blocher critiques optimism to be too caught up in evil as non-being and therefore is devoid of respecting the “spontaneous sense of evil” (14). He writes, “The strategy consists of erasing and blurring the most scandalous aspects of evil, and choosing a perspective which appears to diminish the anomaly” (19). Leibniz is included in this category by trying to rationalize the presence of evil in this world by make this world necessarily the best world possible.

While Blocher appears to agree with the Augustinian explanation that sin is the privation of good, he is leery of views that can “water down” the severity of evil (cf. 31). He highlights the “bite of non-being” and insists that such an understanding does not let evil off the hook. He writes, “as privation, evil exists in things: ‘the paradox of evil is the terrible reality of its privative existence’” (27).

In chapter two Blocher considers the explanation that connects the reality of evil to the libertarian freedom of the will. In this category he mentions A. Plantinga and Paul Ricoeur and shows how such a view explains how evil arises from freedom. He also gives considerable attention to John Hick and his thesis of soul-making. The plight of such a view is that it credits evil as purpose for human’s maturity. While such a position hopes to free God of being the cause of evil, it actually fails. He writes, “In spite of his monotheistic stance, the impossibility of God’s creating persons that are morally perfect turns out to be well and truly a limitation on him” (56).

Diletical reasoning, in chapter three, is set in its Hegelian context and thereby exposed of its hollowness. Blocher includes Moltmann and Barth in this category, and while their work is aesthetically satisfying, he is unconvinced of its accuracy. However, a point of praise and learning among such thinkers is the Christological concentration and focus on the cross. Blocher writes:

The dialectical solution to problem of evil has merit in reminding us that God is able to turn the work of evil human beings to fulfill his own designs, to make it serve the good, most notably the supremely evil act of the crucifixion of the Son. But as for the problem itself, it is a pseudo-solution which is more perverse in the way it (falsely) excuses evil, than those solutions that appeal to universal order and to the autonomy of human freedom (83).

Blocher puts forth his own position in chapter four as chapter five elaborates the position in light of differing eschatologies. Important to his position is the unwavering recognition that evil really is evil. He writes:

The fact that evil is vanity (‘awen) and the lack of something good (i.e. privation) does not remove the weight of sin, for evil makes use of the substance of created goodness, which it turns and reverses for its own purposes against that entity’s Creator. Such is the weight of untruth, borrowed from the truth that it has travestied and perverted. It is a hideous reality which draws down upon itself the judgment of God (87).

Blocher does not go beyond his critique of the three categorical approaches in an attempt to give an explanation for evil. He concedes that such an explanation is impossible. He writes, “For pilgrims such as we are, there is no rational solution to the problem of evil: the theoretical problem of the origin of evil” (101). Blocher calls evil a mystery—the great  mystery—and is content to leave it there. “Evil is not there to be understood, but to be fought” (103).

Although he is content not to explain evil, neither does he leave the reader hopeless. Blocher goes to the cross to harmonies the three points of the “T”—the evil of evil, the lordship of the Lord, and the goodness of God.  This is the high point of the book and of the history of the world. Blocher writes:

The sheer and utter evilness of evil is demonstrated there: as hatred in the mockery of the criminals who also hung there; as hateful in the weight of guilt which could be removed only by the sacrifice of the Lamb of God . . .

The complete sovereignty of God is demonstrated there: all this happened ‘by God’s set pupose and foreknowledge’ (Acts 2:23), for it was necessary that the Scripture be fulfilled. Those which bore witness to the destiny that the Lord had assigned to his Servant . . .

The unadulterated goodness of God is demonstrated there. At the cross, who would dare entertain the blasphemy of imagining that God would, even to the slightest degree, comply with evil? It brought him death, in the person of his Son. Holiness stands revealed. Love stands revealed, a pure love; there is no love greater (104).

I appreciate Blocher’s treatment of such a significant subject. His insistence on the primacy of Holy Scripture is wonderful and his passionate disapproval of excusing the evilness of evil is mobilizing. I embrace Blocher’s position as my own—accepting the Augustinian explanation that evil is the privation of good while also maintaining the force of evil in its perverting work. The ultimate answer to the existence of evil is the cross of Jesus Christ and hope that evil will one day be brought to its consummate end—indeed is now being brought to an end.

The implications of such a position are specific and weighty. If God is conquering evil, has conquered evil, and is currently using his Church to affect such a purpose, what is my role in regard to the suffering of the world? As one writer put it, “the only thing necessary for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing.” By God’s grace, as reconciled sinners gladly brought into the supremacy of Christ, we must not “do nothing.” Our call is action in the world. “Evil is not there to be understood, but to be hated.”

“Let love be genuine. Abhor what is evil; hold fast to what is good.” (Romans 12:9)

Beyond Mystery to Miracle: Marriage and the Scope of the Husband’s Output

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“Therefore a man shall leave his father and mother and hold fast to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh.” This mystery is profound, and I am saying that it refers to Christ and the church. (Ephesians 5:31-32)

If Paul calls it a mystery then I think I am safe to call it miraculous… or at least I’ll call the v. 25 part miraculous. Marriage is profound. The apostolic command to the husband is even more staggering.

Husbands, love your wives, as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her…

Pull an all-night study cram for that one and let me know how it goes. Husbands have been given a difficult task. Notice two implications: the scope of marital output and the purpose of marriage onset.

The Scope of Marital Output

Ephesians 5:25 love means that your love knows no end, your giving has no cap, and your service never expires. You cannot stay a wuss and stay a husband. How much whining do you think you can get away with? A verse reference — Eph. 5:25 — is an ample touché. The husband is commanded to be an incessant giver of the rarest resource. Love, then love, and then when it is really hard, love. If Paul means what he says then there is no point that the husband comes to when he says “that’s enough.” I am glad Jesus never said that to me.

It is in the moment of marital difficulty, brother, that we soak in our union with Christ and long for his gospel to overcome us. We can only love and love deeper still when the truth of his cross and resurrection has overwhelmed us and is overwhelming deeper still. It is that moment of feeling exhausted, when we’ve reached our mortal limit, that we share in the sufferings of Christ, as it were. The Lamb who was silent, the blasphemed one who was falsely accused and didn’t even open his mouth, be like him because you are in him. We are in that Lamb. We partake of his nature. We were baptized into his death and walk now in the newness of his life.

Breathe deeply at that point. Inhale the blood-bought grace that is your only shot. Receive that miracle. Close your eyes and dive off of that cliff into the ocean of love that would be dry if it were of ink and there was parchment in the sky. Affirm with gladness that your love is limitless. Be a cheerful giver of the rarest resource because you know that the one who produces it never tires of giving from his immeasurable riches…

Children Dying All Around the World

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Every single minute 24 children from around the world die from preventible diseases.

1 minute, 24 children dead, preventible diseases

What does this mean to you?

Stop, wait. Are you checking out now?

Do you ignore it?

Is it someone else’s problem?

Please, don’t click away just yet.

There is no guilt trip here. I am not trying to wound you. I just want us to think, “What do I do?!” And the answers will not be the same. But I am sure that the answer will never be to bury your head in the sand.

‘What Is’ Does Not Seem To Be… But It Still Is!

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Richard Sibbes writes about the victory of the church through Jesus Christ. He raises a needful objection…

Objection: If this is so, why is it thus with the church of God, and with many a gracious Christian? The victory seems to be with the enemy.

To understand this, we should remember, firstly, that God’s children usually, in their troubles, overcome by suffering. Here lambs overcome lions, and doves eagles, by suffering, that herein they may be conformable to Christ, who conquered most when he suffered most. Together with Christ’s kingdom of patience there was a kingdom of power.

Richard Sibbes, The Bruised Reed, 94.

Wild Joy

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“And you became imitators of us and of the Lord, for you received the word in much affliction, with the joy of the Holy Spirit, so that you became an example to all the believers in Macedonia and in Achaia. For not only has the word of the Lord sounded forth from you in Macedonia and Achaia, but your faith in God has gone forth everywhere, so that we need not say anything.”

(1Thessalonians 1:6-8 ESV)

By what is the ever-spreading faith characterized? Joy in the Holy Spirit. That is, joy in the midst of much affliction. 

Joy in the context of suffering is a wild thing. It is most exotic. Like Sasquatch walking in Times Square.  It is a head-turner, an eye-opener, a mind-stumper, a faith-stirrer. This is not a superficial glee. There is a strange deepness here. Real joy.

Lord Jesus, may it abound in Your people among the nations–from You, in You, for You!

Wanting to Reach Inside the Narrative: Job, 6

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Job goes further in chapter 21 to solidify his incoherency–or more so, his humanity. In the midst of his suffering he has blessed and worshiped God and exemplified faith in a staggering promise:

And after my skin has been thus destroyed, yet in my flesh I shall see God (19:26)

But then he doubts if the end of every man is different at all. He says the wicked go unpunished. This is crucial. Job is in unbelief, questioning the righteousness of God. Sympathetically we ask, is he not a man?… tossed about, a vulnerable heart. The pain is intense, the vision blurred–

and yet even in our sympathy we are called to disagree with Job. We want to reach inside this narrative so bad and remind him of the LORD’s sovereign control here, to urge him to hold on. We hurt for Job, but we can see more clearly than him that God is behind this and that He is not letting go.

If there were readers of our lives’ narratives, wonder how often they would long to reach in and remind us?

The Yes and No of Suffering: Job, 5

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It’s difficult to get the conversations. Job’s friends say some good things but they just don’t help. Job responds and says good things, too. He says things that are deeply moving like in 12:13-16 where he attributes wisdom to God and highlights His sovereignty. But then Job also says other things about pleading his case and justifying himself like in 13:3, 15, 18. 

He is incoherent. And it is not strange. Job is a suffering man. He is in pain. There are his best moments of trust and faith, and there are also the bad moments. In chapter 17 Job is hopeless, asking:

Where then is my hope? Who will see my hope? Will it go down to the bars of Sheol? (17:15-16a)

Later Job responds to Bildad’s accusations in chapter 19, declaring:

For I know that my Redeemer lives, and at the last he will stand upon the earth (19:25)

The reader sees both in our unique perspective, called to judge error and wisdom. We say “ahh” and “eww” and we do it gazing in light of God. We do it with sympathy.

Father, show us how to live, for your glory in Jesus Christ, amen.

But Do I Really Get It… I Want To Get It!: Job, 3

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The Lord ordains the blows of Satan against Job– his fields, his animals, his servants, all this children… gone. They are taken without explanation. The horrific report reaches Job and the reader is called to consider his response.  In mourning he falls to the ground in worship (1:21)…

The LORD gave, and the LORD has taken away; blessed be the name of the LORD.

Job is a sober man in suffering here. He is so other-worldly. He speaks as a man who believes that God owes him nothing. And I wonder…

         Deep down do I really think my obedience is meriting a blessing before God? That His goodness to me is so contingent upon my “service” to him. Is it cause and effect? I do my duty, He pays His dues. Woe to the scores of people who live by such law– the blessings cease and there is panic that I must be doing something wrong. The charge is against God. He must be the one wrong.

Job calls this foolish. The Almighty is just to not give us any good thing. What do I deserve from God but His wrath? My merit is His anger. My earnings are His fury.