GOD'S LOVE

“Love is a smoke raised with the fume of sighs; being purged, a fire sparkling in lover’s eyes; being vexed a sea nourished with lovers’ tears: What is it else? a madness most discreet, a choking gall and a preserving sweet” or, so says Shakespeare through his tragic suitor Romeo. Erich Segal, in his much forgettable Love Story, had Jennifer say to Oliver, “Love means never having to say you’re sorry.” A few years ago, Tina Turner demonstrated our post-modern confusion with even the simplest of emotions by asking the pointed question, “What’s love got to do with it?”

Whatever we think of Shakespeare, Segal, and Turner, the fact remains that love is a subject that we cannot long ignore. Hallmark and American Greeting have made certain that no occasion passes without someone around you expecting a reminder of your undying love and affection. Just look at your calendar; there is some observation just around the bend and someone, somewhere is expecting a card from you affirming your unending love.

Perhaps our generation is more confused over the meaning of love than any in recent memory. Modern culture portrays love as something you catch like a disease. If you are in the right place at the right time- Zap! just like catching the common cold, you’re infected. Romantic notions of love-at-first-sight have polluted our cultural mythology. We no longer understand or feel the need for the natural progression from friendship to affection to love. Media portrayals of love teach us that we may very well be joined intimately- and then, as an afterthought, may consider the question of love and commitment, or the name of our partner. One of the hottest shows on HBO for a number of years was "Sex and the City" and the follow-on movie sequel is receiving extensive coverage in the newspapers and magazines currently. "Sex and the City" is a celebration of Eros, a show dedicated to confusing physical attraction with genuine love and tawdry love affairs with true commitment.

To further confuse matters, we are told contradictory things about the nature of love. Some say that love, if it is real, is always unconditional and makes no demand upon its object. Others tell us that love must be tough, must not facilitate self-destructive behavior but seek to change the object of its desires. How can we pick our way through this maze? Perhaps we would do well go the Scriptures and see what God has to say about love. As you have no doubt noticed, our text is devoted to that very subject.

As we look into the nature of love, one of the problems we encounter is the inadequacy of the English language. Although rich in many ways, our language is impoverished, offering only one word to do duty for that which the Greek language, the language of our New Testament, had four words. First, the Greeks had a word, Storge, that meant natural love, or family love. It was used to describe the love that binds parent and child. It could even be stretched to include the love for some larger body, such as patriotic love for one’s country. This is a love rooted in familiarity, not so much in the desirability of the object of love. Perhaps a close English gloss for storge would be our word affection. We might, then, talk about loving an old pair of slippers or a crusty old relative.

I have an old baseball glove that I have owned since I was twelve years old. It is called the “Sacred Mit” because no profane hands may touch it without my permission. It is really not worth much, as old and worn as it is. However, I love that mit; that is, I have a strong sentimental attachment to it. For what it is worth, the word that describes this love, storge, is not used in the New Testament.

A second Greek word for love, Eros, also fails to appear in the New Testament. Eros is romantic love. It is the name of the little Greek god with the bow and arrows, the figure we call Cupid. Now Eros is more than sexual love, although sexuality is deeply related to romantic love. Anyone who has read the Old Testament book Song of Solomon knows that erotic love is part of romantic love.

However, there are two peculiar facts about Eros that distinguish it: 1) It is love that is based on the worth of the beloved. And 2), it is love that desires to possess. You have heard, “beauty is in the eye of the beholder.” You and I may not understand romantic love, but if two people are in love, it is because they find something attractive in each other. Also, you will never hear a real man say, “I am in love with Mary, but I don’t care who marries her.” Eros desires to possess the one deemed attractive. This, however, is not the New Testament understanding of love.

There is a third Greek word for love, Philia. This is the love of friendship, of one man for another, or of a woman for her close friend. Philadelphia is the city of brotherly love, that is, unless you’ve lived there as I have, and know better! Concerning Philia, C.S. Lewis said, “Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art, like the universe itself (for God did not need to create). It has no survival value; rather, it is one of those things which gives value to survival.” Friendship is a love that is built on common insight or shared tastes, something that two individuals experience together and not in common with the masses. Philia is used only once in the New Testament, although the verbal form is used on several occasions. D.A. Carson, noted New Testament scholar, says that one of the reasons for its infrequent use is the fact that by the first century, philia was used quite regularly as a synonym for kiss and thus would have limited appeal to the New Testament writers.

At last we come to the fourth Greek word for love, Agape. This is a word that was rarely used before the New Testament, but was used extensively by the writers of Scripture. Why would the Christians choose to use such an otherwise obscure word to express the meaning of love? It is not true that agape means “divine love,” per se. Nor is it entirely accurate to say that the writers of Scripture sought to portray a love that could not be expressed by any of the other words. However, Agape is used frequently in reference to divine love. When used to describe God’s love, it is fair to say that it represents love that is determined by the one who loves, not by something in the one who is loved. It is love that is “a free and decisive act determined by its subject.”

Agape is love that does not arise because of the worth of the object, nor is it love that selfishly seeks to possess for its own gain. We find that in our text. “Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil, but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails.”

This is the essence of love, not only in the New Testament, but even in the Old Testament. In Deuteronomy 7, Moses explained to the people of Israel, “The Lord your God has chosen you out of all the peoples on the face of the earth to be his people, his treasured possession.” This divine love is intentional, predicated on an act of the will that decides to engage in relationship. Moses went on in the passage to say this, “The Lord did not set his affection on you and choose you because you were more numerous than other peoples, for you were the fewest of all peoples. But it was because the Lord loved you . . . that he brought you out with a mighty hand and redeemed you from the land of slavery.” Did you get that? God loved Israel as a free act of his own will, not because there was anything lovely in them, anything commendable about them. That is the love that is Agape.

And we see such love displayed even more pointedly in the New Testament. Paul wrote to the church at Rome “that God demonstrated his own love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” My friends, this is unconditional love. Knowing full well that he was getting damaged goods, God chose to love us anyway. Fully aware that there is none righteous among us, that we all have sinned and come short of the glory of God- God nonetheless gave his only begotten son, that whoever believes in him would not die but have eternal life. He sees us as we are, warts and all- and loves us anyway. And, boy, do we have a hard time accepting this. As a rule, that is not how we love- so we have a terrible time believing that anyone, including our Heavenly Father, could love in that way.

Consider this further. The noted scholar Leon Morris reminds us that “God’s love is not some vague, theoretical thing, a woolly benevolence. It took the hard way: it meant the cross.” (Apostolic Preaching of the Cross, Morris, p. 133) As Paul wrote to the Corinthian Christians, “He has made him who knew no sin to become sin for us.” The spotless Son of God becomes the guilty, cursed bearer of our sin as a manifestation of the Father’s love for us!

That is tough love! Don’t you think- if there had been some other way to provide forgiveness, God would have used it? Don’t you suppose he would have avoided the cross if there were another way to overcome sin? There wasn’t. And, thankfully, the exorbitant price of this cross did not hinder his love for you and me.

Now a further thought. This love that arises out of an unconditional acceptance is nevertheless a love that is intentional and focused. God, who loves us in spite of our sin, desires that we do not remain in that sin. He paid an infinite price in the death of his son on the cross. This is history’s greatest display of love. But, he who paid such a great price to forgive our sins, to make us children of God, desires that we turn from those sins and bear the family image. We read in Hebrews 12:6, “For whom the Lord loves he disciplines, and he scourges every son whom he welcomes.” In other words, the “writer is thus pointing out that God cares enough to do the unpleasant thing for the sake of his beloved.” Love is not incompatible with a desire for change in the beloved—and God desires that we all learn to look like Jesus.

So, then, what does this mean for us? Well, the implications are clear. God is love and we love him because he first loved us. Furthermore, by this, Jesus said, shall all men know you are my disciples— that you love one another. Let me confess something to you. For years I read our text, the love chapter, and marveled at the love of God. I wallowed in the depths of God’s love and stood amazed at its breadth. But there is one thing I did not do, not for years, at least. I never drew the conclusion that since God’s love was at work in my life, I was supposed to love that very same way! Today, I am astounded that I could have been so dense!

You and I are to be “patient and kind. We are not to envy, not to boast, not to be proud. We are not to be rude, or self-seeking, not easily angered. We are to keep no record of wrongs. We must not delight in evil, but rejoice with the truth. We are always to protect, always to trust, always to hope, always to persevere. Love never fails, and neither should we.” Say, that puts it all in a different light, doesn’t it!

Now for some application. If there is any place where we ought to exercise divine love, it is in our relationships with our spouses. Yet, this is the place where, I suspect, we are most likely to fail most miserably! Why? Perhaps familiarity breeds contempt. Perhaps we use up all our long-suffering in the workplace and have little left over when we get home. Whatever the reason, or the excuse, it is not good enough. Our text does not offer “exceptions to policy!” Look, too often what we do in our marriage relationships looks as though we consider everything apart from love. Our behavior does not believe all things, but instead keeps an exact record of all wrongs, perceived or actual; it is proud and boastful, envious, self-seeking and rude. Our attitudes and actions towards our husband or wife do not protect; it does not trust. It accuses, judges, and condemns; it has the sulfurous smell of hell about it.

Brothers and sisters, this will not do! Our text says we are to love even as God loves—and we make no mistake about it; this is not an easy thing for us to do. Yet, I would remind you, the cross was not an easy thing to do. The cross was tough love. It was tough for Jesus to bear our guilt. It was tough for the Father to turn his back on his son hanging on the cross. It was tough for God to love us while we were yet sinners. And it will be tough for you and for me to learn to live by the words of our text, to love that which is not always lovely; to be willing to seek the good of others, especially our spouse, above our own; and to think the best and to give the benefit when in doubt.

But learn to live by these words we must, if as married men and women, (or as those who one day plan to be married) we will honor God. If we will learn to live in peace, it will be because we prefer one another and do not seek our own way. Have you experienced the love of God shed abroad in your hearts? Are you seeking the well-being of your fellow Christians and, most importantly in light of this weekend, the best interests of the man or woman you have pledged to honor above all?

My dear brothers and sisters, “love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away. . . . And now these three remain: faith, hope, and love.” Today, we walk by faith, but one day by sight, for we shall see him as he is. Today, we hope in the Lord’s promise of redemption, but one day we shall be with him, and our hope will be fulfilled. But throughout endless ages, one thing will continue without interruption: we shall never cease to experience the ever-deepening love of God. That is why our text says so simply, and yet most eloquently, “the greatest of these is love.”

PREACH THE WORD!

2 Timothy 4:1-8 I charge you in the presence of God and of Christ Jesus, who is to judge the living and the dead, and by his appearing and his kingdom: preach the word; be ready in season and out of season; reprove, rebuke, and exhort, with complete patience and teaching. For the time is coming when people will not endure sound teaching, but having itching ears they will accumulate for themselves teachers to suit their own passions, and will turn away from listening to the truth and wander off into myths. As for you, always be sober-minded, endure suffering, do the work of an evangelist, fulfill your ministry. For I am already being poured out as a drink offering, and the time of my departure has come. I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. Henceforth there is laid up for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, will award to me on that Day, and not only to me but also to all who have loved his appearing.

Herald the Word! Proclaim the good news. That is your task, if you are a preacher. And you are to be at hand, to be “right on the spot” when listeners recognize that a word from God is needed and the season is favorable. But, as the text tells us, you are also to preach the Word when the timing is out of season, or unfavorable. Lenski comments, “The Word knows no difference as to kaipoi (times) or seasons; it is proper for all seasons, everlastingly in season; there is never a time when it is not needed.” I have preached at favorable times and other times unfavorable: during mortar attacks, in prison chapels with hostile inmates, and in a number of Presbyterian churches!

I was recently asked to write an article about preaching on “special occasions.” In our world of satellite communications, 24-hour news channels, and internet immediacy, what they meant by preaching on special occasions suggested the unfavorable times we are all too familiar with: terrorist strikes, anthrax attacks, economic crises, public disasters, and, of course, wars and rumors of wars. I want to share some of the things I learned with you today. First, I want to talk with you about preaching “in season,” or during favorable times in the church. Then, we will look at preaching in unfavorable times occasioned by the “abnormal” events that capture the attention of our congregations. Finally, we will consider three simple observations about preaching in light of the previous two discussions. Bryan Chapell writes that “the expository preaching task is to communicate what God committed to Scripture in order to give God’s people his truth for their time.” (Christ-Centered Preaching, 31) I think this is another way to state our text: “to give God’s people his truth for their time,” whether that time is favorable or unfavorable.

First, it is important to examine the assumption that there is such a thing as preaching during “normal” times in our congregations, i.e., times that are favorable. By favorable we may refer to those days of calm when we are not in the throes of shock over a space-shuttle disaster, a category four hurricane, or the derailing of an AMTRAK passenger train. However, even when our congregations are not experiencing some public, collective trauma, remember that individual members of our congregations may be experiencing the shocks of life in all their raw power. As D.A. Carson writes, “suffering of one kind or another is always taking place.” (How Long, O Lord, 221)

In a given congregation, it is possible that someone’s mother has just received an unexpected, even devastating medical report. A father is facing cutbacks and layoffs in the workplace. A family is experiencing conflict with children and someone’s husband is involved in an extra-marital affair. As Calvin Miller explains, "The Sunday service is a gathering of troubles. Half of those who enter the church and take their seat before the pulpit are moving in a privatized fog of their own ills. In the words of Thoreau, they are living lives of quiet desperation. They are the dying anonymous." (Preaching, 41)

Not even small churches are exempt and sometimes everything changes in the space of a mere week. Last week, the Lord’s Day was an occasion of joy and praise. It was good to be in the house of the Lord! Then came the shattering blow that changed everything. The cares of this world bullied past the front door and filled the home with their oppressive, unrelenting presence. Now, gathered again to worship, these shattered people desperately need to hear a word from the Lord. For them, the unfavorable time has come.

I am not a pastor. Yet, recently, within a very short period of time, I received the following requests for prayer: for a young First Lieutenant who was nearly killed in a horrible wreck in Oklahoma, for the family of a Sergeant who was murdered, for an elderly saint who has a brain tumor, for a young woman who died suddenly from a blood clot, for the well-being of a newborn baby, for surgery to treat a serious infection, for a church member who had surgery and is unable to keep food down, for a young wife who lost her job, for a friend who has terminal liver cancer, for a former student diagnosed with breast cancer, for another friend who has a pre-ulcerous condition.

And the list goes on. Nearly all of these are members of some particular church, and, except for those who have died, most will be listening to some preacher this coming Lord’s Day. And, as Miller writes, they are not coming to church because they want to know “whatever happened to the Hittites.” (Ibid.) They will be in church because they need the fellowship and support of God’s people. And, most importantly, they need to hear a word from the Lord that will give them comfort, hope, and direction. The first thing the preacher must do, then, is get a handle on what favorable really means. Many in our congregations are like ducks swimming on the pond. Above the surface, everything appears calm and controlled. Unseen beneath the surface, however, little duck feet are churning at warp speed. In other words, there is more “out of season” or unfavorable going on than you might imagine. In the words of Pulitzer-prize winning author, Marilynne Robinson, “There’s a lot under the surface of life, everyone knows that. A lot of malice and dread and guilt, and so much loneliness, where you wouldn’t really expect to find it, either.” (Gilead, 6)

Perhaps it is the immediacy and accessibility of media that makes our time seem so frantic, so out-of-control. The closing of a small-town Chrysler dealership may have little impact on the global economy; it is, however, devastating to the 43 employees who worked there—and the “local” story may well show up on CNN or FOX news. With never ending news cycles, we are light years from the fifteen-minute newscast of the 1950s. Whether it is an IED explosion in Afghanistan, an attack on hotels in Mumbai, or a backed-up toilet on the space station, everyone with a television or a personal computer has access to the latest information. The buffers of time and space have effectively evaporated, and we are all exposed to more information than we can handle, coming at us faster than we can process it. What once would have been only of peripheral interest now is thrust front and center, demanding that we give it a hearing. And, sometimes, the global village, or some significant portion thereof, is affected in a powerful way.

I was knotting my tie, glancing in the mirror to make sure I wasn’t strangling myself, while watching the television out of the corner of my eye. I was thinking about the meetings I had scheduled later that day. That day I was running late, and I was definitely suffering from caffeine-deficiency. But something caught my eye. I had already turned back to check on my tie when my pre-frontal cortex, my lizard brain, processed the image from the TV. I had seen, however briefly, what appeared to be a tall building on fire. I turned to look at the screen even as I reached for the remote to adjust the volume. As the sound increased I heard the news anchor report that an airplane had flown into the North Tower of the World Trade Center in New York City.

Like many other Americans, I watched in horror as another airplane screamed into the South Tower approximately seventeen minutes later. And then, one minute before ten o’clock, the South Tower crumbled, followed by the North Tower at 10:28 AM. By virtue of the magnitude of the horror, the near-universality of the experience, or the immediacy of the reporting (or some combination of these factors), such events leave indelible scars. What does a preacher do the Sunday after more than 3,000 people are killed in the worst terrorist attack in American history? Stick with the lectionary? Move on to the next few verses in Ephesians? Talk about “out of season!”

I was in church the following Sunday, September 16, 2001, expecting to hear a sermon that addressed the shock, the fear, the sadness that so clearly affected everyone in the sanctuary. I was wrong. The sermon was the same sermon that had been planned weeks before. Had it not been for the pastoral prayer, no one in those pews that morning would have known that the horrors of 9/11 had occurred but five short days before. There is no other word for it; this was ministerial malpractice. If ever a people need a word from the Lord, it is at those times when we are reminded afresh that life is relentlessly contingent and hangs by a mere thread, “a mist that appears for a little time and then vanishes” (James 4:14). This was one of those times. And instead of edible bread, indeed, Living Bread, we received a homiletical brick.

The second thing the preacher must do, then, is develop the wisdom to know when to adjust the sermon to address times that are unfavorable—and cultivate the skills to do so with agility. Such wisdom will probably come only with experience, and the agility to shift “on the fly” is as much a developed skill-set as it is a temperament trait. Mostly, however, the preacher needs to be sensitive to the needs of the flock and open to the leading of the Holy Spirit.

In light of the earlier discussion, there are many more issues worth considering. However, I will limit my comments to three simple observations. First, simple observation: the minister who seeks to be a faithful shepherd must remember that he preaches, not in a vacuum, but to flesh and blood people who are immersed up to their necks in life. This means it is never enough for the preacher simply to “give the meaning of the text.” Some preachers confuse the exegesis of the text with exposition of the text. Fred Craddock warned: "It is possible that a sermon that buries itself in the text, moves through it phrase by phrase, and never comes up for air may prove to be “unbiblical” in the sense that it fails to achieve what the text achieves." (Preaching, 28)

The faithful preacher, who seeks transformation and healing in his congregation,
will be ever mindful of the interplay between the context of the Scripture and the
context of his listeners. John Stott writes that we need preachers "who struggle to relate God’s unchanging Word to our ever-changing world; who refuse to sacrifice truth to relevance or relevance to truth; but who resolve instead in equal measure to be faithful to Scripture and pertinent to today." (Between Two Worlds, 144)

Such preaching requires more than reading the daily newspaper or following the evening news, though it certainly requires no less. Just as the shepherd of old knew his sheep, even so the under-shepherd of God’s flock must know his sheep and care for them tenderly. There are wounds that need binding, and the role of the preacher is interwoven with the role of the pastor. Is it strange that, almost as soon as he mentions the Chief Shepherd, Peter reminds his readers to cast their cares on him, “because he cares for you” (1 Peter 5:7)? Sinclair Ferguson says “we have to understand the soul condition of those to whom we preach, and address them in an appropriate way.” Preaching is more than throwing doctrinal truths at parishioners. The preacher must bring the Word of God and the listener into vital connection through skillful exposition and application.

Second simple observation: the preacher needs to preach the whole counsel of God. “All Scripture is God-breathed and profitable”—and this means preaching that a sovereign God is in control of life’s circumstances, even when the gears are grinding, the temperature gauge is in the red, and the wheels are about to come off. D.A. Carson addresses the problem of ministering to those who encounter suffering and evil. He writes that "part of learning to live as faithful children of the sovereign God is therefore tied to trusting him when he can at best be only dimly discerned behind events and circumstances that the Bible itself is quick to label evil." (How Long, O Lord, 65)

To preach “the whole counsel of God” (Acts 20:27), the preacher must be prepared to deal with the hard subjects, including the sovereignty of God in suffering. To be sure, the Westminster Confession warns that “the doctrine of this high mystery of predestination is to be handled with special prudence and care” (WCF 3:8)—and so it should. But avoiding these matters entirely is hardly handling them with special prudence and care. Avoidance is not a method of engagement. The unfavorable times do not go away because we cover our eyes.

The doctrine of God’s decrees, predestination, providence—these are the doctrines that are the most difficult to reconcile with events of monumental evil. In the aftermath of the World Trade Center attacks, how many times did you hear the question, “Where was God on 9/11?” Or, as one hears in the “normal situations” of life, “Where was God when I lost my job? . . . or became ill? . . . or lost my loved one?” It is at such painful points that we find it most difficult to reconcile our profession with our experience. When God does not act predictably, i.e., as we expect him to act, we can find our faith challenged and our previous understanding of God inadequate. Most pointedly, we may flinch at the notion that God ordained this for his own glory and become stupefied by the thought that God will use that for our highest good.

Such powerful, cognitive dissonance means it is all the more important to preach that God is our loving heavenly father (Matthew 7:11). That our God is concerned about those things that concern us (Matthew 6:31-33). That our God is at work even in the midst of evil to bring about the good ends that he has always intended (Genesis 50:20, Romans 8:28). The preacher must treat these doctrines not as abstract concepts, but as the lifeblood of evangelical religion. Cold, abstract speculations will do little to grant comfort to those in the unfavorable times of life; but the confidence that God is at work will comfort God’s people (Acts 27:21-26) in the midst of trouble (2 Corinthians 1:3-7). These doctrines are perishable and we must preach them frequently if we wish to fortify the soul.

Third simple observation, this preaching must be done before it is needed. The preacher must inoculate his listeners, preparing them for the day of evil. All last fall, the news was filled with reports on efforts to develop the vaccine for the H1N1 (“Swine”) flu virus and prepare for a possible outbreak. The plan included the vaccination, or inoculation, of targeted populations that are especially vulnerable. But—the vaccine is only good if administered before the victim contracts the flu. Even so, preaching on the attributes of God, his sovereignty, and his providence, needs to occur before it is needed. The fact is that all God’s people will come into unfavorable times sooner or later. Jesus told his disciples, “In the world you will have tribulation” (John 16:33; cf. Acts 14:22). Indeed, if becoming a Christian provided immunity from the cares of life, our churches would be packed and we could permanently retire our evangelism committees.

Carson writes: "One of the major causes of devastating grief and confusion among Christians is that our expectations are false. We do not give the subject of evil and suffering the thought it deserves until we ourselves are confronted with tragedy. If by that point our beliefs—not well thought out but deeply ingrained—are largely out of step with the God who has disclosed himself in the Bible and supremely in Jesus, then the pain from the personal tragedy may be multiplied many times over as we begin to question the very foundations of our faith." (Ibid.)

The preacher who waits until tragedy occurs will find he has wasted precious time. The preacher who preaches faithfully when it is favorable and exercises wisdom and agility in the times that are unfavorable, must teach his listeners that suffering is part of the Christian’s calling (2 Corinthians 1:5-7), that suffering is not to be compared with “the glory that is to be revealed to us” (Romans 8:18), that suffering, ultimately, is “according to God’s will” (I Peter 4:19). The vaccine will do its job, but only when used properly.

A couple of months ago, On Army Reserve duty, I sat in two airports as both of my flights were delayed, delayed again, and delayed even further. The weather over Atlanta was angry and Air Traffic Control grounded many inbound flights until the thunderheads exhausted their wrath. After an hour and a half delay at the Greenville-Spartanburg Airport, we were cleared to fly. I made it Atlanta—only to find that my outbound flight was also delayed—repeatedly! As I waited at the gate, I watched frustrated travelers rushing through the terminal as they tried to make connecting flights. I listened as standby passengers negotiated, cajoled, and finally pleaded with Delta agents to miracle them a plane seat. All around me there was disappointment, frustration, and anger. Oddly enough, I was relatively calm—which is not my normal response to such situations. I did have nearly a three-hour margin between flights, so I confess that it is easy to be holy when you have a long lay-over! But there was something else at work. Thinking about this topic forced me to revisit some of my most basic beliefs.

This much I can say with certainty. My recent reflections on God’s goodness, sovereignty, and providence provided fresh reminders that none of the frenetic activity around me occurred apart from the powerful, loving, and kind disposition of my heavenly father. For our Heavenly Father, “all times are favorable.” And then one more thought came to mind. I wondered how many of the frantic multitude surrounding me in Terminal B of the Hartsfield-Jackson Airport had that same confidence. Some of those travelers were soldiers returning to war. Others, businessmen and women, were rushing off in desperate search of the deal that might keep their businesses alive. Many travelers were saying goodbye to family members who lived a good distance, perhaps even an ocean away. Some would fly off to face new troubles before the day, week, or month is past. Almost all will remain forever nameless to me, but some will have new troubles played out on the nightly news. How many of these dear people, rushing to and fro with the many burdens of life, had heard a sermon, any time in recent memory, that inoculated them for the favorable and unfavorable events of life they inevitably will face?

Calvin Miller tells a story that reminds preachers of their calling: "Pain comes in all types and sizes. . . . A preacher that I much admire wrote of a time when his daughter was very ill with a condition that would soon take her life. He confessed that these were very dark days for his family and that during her illness he never went to church casually to hear the casual preaching of a casual parson. He went to church desperately because his needs were desperate. Most of the time he heard three-point sermons filled with lots of information about the Bible. But what he really wanted was not more biblical information but a pastor who would bleed with him. . . . Sermons are not placebos prescribed to make people feel good. But they are a stab at kingdom togetherness, and they are a balm for the broken. Audience analysis reaches its heights when something like 9/11 happens. For one brief, shining moment, sermons all weep from church to church nationwide. We have no answer for the great pain, but not to offer the hurting a God-word is sermonic shame." (Preaching, 54)

Indeed. We who preach do not have magic solutions to the cares of life, but we do have the Word, and we must proclaim it when things are favorable—and unfavorable.

Some of you may be scheduled to preach this coming Sunday. You will have listeners hoping to hear a word from God. For someone, this Sunday may be a favorable moment; for someone else, the world is all out of frame, and their times are desperately unfavorable. Preach the Word! God has promised to bless it—and your listeners desperately need to hear it. In C. S. Lewis,’ The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, Lucy asks the Great Lion, Aslan, if the four Pevensie children, will visit Narnia again? And further asks if that return visit can be “soon.” When Aslan agrees, Lucy continues, “Please, Aslan . . . what do you call soon?” “I call all times soon,” said Aslan. My friends, the God who calls all times soon, also calls all times his, for he is at work, even in our suffering, for his own glory and our highest good.

Preached in Chapel, Erskine Theological Seminary, 14 April 2010

THE MEANING OF DEATH

Psalm 90:1-12, A PRAYER OF MOSES, THE MAN OF GOD. Lord, you have been our dwelling place in all generations. 2 Before the mountains were brought forth, or ever you had formed the earth and the world, from everlasting to everlasting you are God. 3 You return man to dust and say, "Return, O children of man!" 4 For a thousand years in your sight are but as yesterday when it is past, or as a watch in the night. 5 You sweep them away as with a flood; they are like a dream, like grass that is renewed in the morning: 6 in the morning it flourishes and is renewed; in the evening it fades and withers. 7 For we are brought to an end by your anger; by your wrath we are dismayed. 8 You have set our iniquities before you, our secret sins in the light of your presence. 9 For all our days pass away under your wrath; we bring our years to an end like a sigh. 10 The years of our life are seventy, or even by reason of strength eighty; yet their span is but toil and trouble; they are soon gone, and we fly away. 11 Who considers the power of your anger, and your wrath according to the fear of you? 12 So teach us to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom.



I don’t get to Durham often—and this is not how I planned to spend my weekend. But, then, I suspect none of you expected to be here for Keith’s funeral either. When my brother, Dale, called on Monday, I knew something was wrong. He had that “I have some bad news hesitancy” in his voice—and then he said, “I have some bad news.” Just a few days ago, the last thing on anyone’s mind would be gathering for Keith’s funeral. The New Year began with such promise and hope—who would have expected this? Yet Monday morning came, and with it the word spreading from family members to friends, to co-workers, to acquaintances, that Keith had slipped away from this vale of tears into the presence of the Lord. And so here we are today, and our hearts are heavy with loss. It is a privilege for me to stand here today—to reflect on a life lived well, and to say a last goodbye to a beloved friend.

I have had the privilege of knowing Keith for almost 40 years. What a trip this has been. I have some rather vivid memories of Keith, and I am sure you do as well. However, since I have the floor now, I will share some of mine. I remember the day Keith showed up at school with his ’67 Mercury Cougar. He was wearing what we called his “purple pantsuit.” I remember thinking to myself, this is a man who is secure in his masculinity! If we had only had a 1970’s version of “Queer Eye for the Straight Guy” we could have saved him from this massive wardrobe malfunction. But those were the days of Bobby Sherman and David Cassidy—and Keith in his purple pantsuit.

There was a tight little group of friends that used to hang together. And Keith was usually present when we were flirting with disaster. When we went out to toss eggs at people. Or light firecrackers. Or launch water balloons. Or shoot bottle rockets at other cars, or people, or front porches. Or throw bottles at traffic signs. Or shine our spotlight into the living-room windows of folks we didn’t like. Keith was with me when I put my Camaro in a ditch. And then, not to be outdone, he put his Cougar in a ditch. And then I upped the ante and put my Camaro in another ditch. At that point Keith had the good sense to realize there was no future in this ditching of cars—and let me win. Anyone who watched us might have concluded: it is only a matter of time before they all ended up in the penitentiary. And Barry, if someone had asked, “Will Barry spend his life fighting fires—or setting fires?” I suspect it would have been even money on both. But here we are and the only stripes we are wearing are pin-stripes. Amazing grace, indeed.

Well, in time, Keith married, had two wonderful, now-grown and accomplished children, built a career, and completed his college education. Yes, completed his college degree! What a marvelous triumph of dedication and perseverance that was! And he was so proud of both Keith, Jr. and Laura—and so looked forward to Laura’s wedding. Now a word about Keith’s marriage. You know that Keith was the first among us to have a mixed marriage. I remember when he fell head over heels for Cheryl. I thought maybe it was her car that got his attention. I was wrong. He fell in love and married her, and, well, . . . Cheryl was not from around here. I used to think Keith was nuts, marrying a Yankee and all. Until I ended up marrying one, too. . . . Now I think both of us were nuts!

Okay, I am just kidding about that one—but I am not kidding about this. Keith, like all of us, had the capacity to become angry and to be stern. But such emotions were rarely seen and, if they did appear, always seemed out of character. His default setting was something I always admired—and wished that I had. There was a kindness, dare I say, a gentleness, about Keith. A steady, dependable, “what can I do to help you” spirit that came through in every part of his life.

My brother, Keith, was a man of faith. Not the oppressive rule-oriented Christianity of our youth. Long ago, many of us walked away from that flavor of Christianity. Look, it is no secret that a lot of us have had lingering heartburn with the church. And so did Keith. And so do I—even to this very day. Over the years we had many conversations about what is wrong with the church. But it is one thing to complain about the church, and the bad behavior of a lot of church-folks, and another thing entirely to place your trust in a merciful and gracious God. In the midst of all the trials of life, I have never doubted for one moment that Keith’s faith in the Lord was alive and well. It was to the Lord that Keith returned time and again for sustaining grace. And it is to the same gracious God, who gifted him with faith, that we turn today in our hour of need.

Today, as we gather here, I suspect we don’t really think about the meaning of death as the Bible presents it. We don’t like to think about death at all. Like the toddler who believes he disappears when you play “peek-a-boo,” we act as if death will go away if we just ignore it. And so we were all shocked to hear that Keith, so vital, so much a part of our lives, is gone from us. We want to consider his death an anomaly. But that is not the case. Keith is not the exception. To think that this shattering event is extraordinary is the furthest thing from the truth of Scripture. In reality, what is wrong with this picture is not that Keith has died, that he is gone. What is wrong with this picture is that we are NOT dead. D.A. Carson, in his book, How Long, O Lord? notes that “death must be seen, not as the supreme instance of a cosmic lack of fairness, but as God’s well-considered sentence against our sin.” (D.A. Carson, How Long, O Lord?, 110.)

And that is exactly what we find in our text. “You return man to dust and say, ‘Return, O children of man!’ . . . You sweep them away as with a flood; they are like a dream, like grass that is renewed in the morning.” Moses, the author of this psalm, continues, “we have been consumed by Your anger. And by Your wrath we have been dismayed. You have placed our iniquities before You, Our secret sins in the light of Your presence. For all our days have declined in Your fury; We have finished our years like a sigh.”

Now, these are not just the words of the “Angry God” of the Old Testament. The New Testament echoes this same theme, telling us in Romans 6:23 that “the wages of sin is death” and in Hebrews 9:27, “it is appointed for man to die once, and after that comes judgment.” This means, as Carson points out, “that I am a responsible participant in my own death. ”(Ibid., 112.) We are a race of sinners, on our way to just condemnation. And if God calls one of us to account sooner, rather than later, this does not mean that his sin is more horrendous, or her guilt somehow greater. It does not mean that those who live on are somehow more righteous than those who pass away in an “untimely” fashion. And doesn’t our sense of shock at an “untimely death” say something about our expectation “that we ought to live out a full life span, that God somehow owes that to us?” (Ibid., 116) On the contrary, according to Scripture, everyone in this room has spent a lifetime working towards condemnation and death. My mother used to talk about being “in hell with her back broke.” That is what we have earned.

Not exactly the words of encouragement you were expecting at a funeral, eh? Well, having said these things, there is yet more that we must say. For to stop here is to miss another biblical truth, the truth that God’s anger at our sin is not the whole story. Indeed there is a whole different angle of vision we must consider if we will know fully the meaning of death. The fact is, death also points us to the mercy of God, the love of God, and the grace of God. Hear these words from another Psalm, the 103rd:

“Bless the LORD, O my soul, and all that is within me, bless his holy name! Bless the LORD, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits, who forgives all your iniquity, who heals all your diseases, who redeems your life from the pit, who crowns you with steadfast love and mercy, who satisfies you with good so that your youth is renewed like the eagle's. . . . The LORD is merciful and gracious, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love. He will not always chide, nor will he keep his anger forever. He does not deal with us according to our sins, nor repay us according to our iniquities. For as high as the heavens are above the earth, so great is his steadfast love toward those who fear him; as far as the east is from the west, so far does he remove our transgressions from us. As a father shows compassion to his children, so the LORD shows compassion to those who fear him. For he knows our frame; he remembers that we are dust. As for man, his days are like grass; he flourishes like a flower of the field; for the wind passes over it, and it is gone, and its place knows it no more. But the steadfast love of the LORD is from everlasting to everlasting on those who fear him, and his righteousness to children's children.”

Now let’s be clear about this: God’s compassion is not abstract; it is concrete. Romans 5:8 says that “God shows his love for us in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.” Here is the great mystery of the gospel, that God who hates sin and reckons all sinners worthy of death, loved us with an everlasting love—and sent his son, our Lord Jesus Christ to bear the guilt of our sin, to suffer and to die on our behalf. As the Scripture says, “For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God” (2 Cor. 5:22).

Look. Nowhere does the Scripture indicate that God has changed his mind about sin. He still hates sin. In fact, Romans 1:18 reminds us that “the wrath of God is revealed from heaven against all ungodliness and unrighteousness of men, who by their unrighteousness suppress the truth.” But this God who hates sin and whose wrath is revealed against all ungodliness is the same God “who so loved the world, that he gave his only-begotten Son, that whoever believes on him, shall not perish, but have everlasting life.” The meaning of death cannot be understood apart from the person of Jesus Christ who died, was buried, but rose again from the dead.

And this brings us to another thought about the meaning of death. Jesus, who died on the cross not only satisfied God’s wrath against sin, he also rose again to show God’s approval of his sacrifice. “The cross, then, is the place where God’s justice and love meet. God retains the integrity of his justice; God pours out the fullness of his love. In the cross, God shows himself to be just and the one who justifies sinners whose faith rests in his Son. The death of God’s own Son is the only adequate gauge of what God thinks of my sin; the death of God’s own Son is the only basis on which I may be forgiven that sin. The cross is the triumph of justice and love.” (Ibid., 116)

This triumph of justice and love is the promise that those who die in the Lord, will yet live again. In John 11, Jesus said, “I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live, and everyone who lives and believes in me shall never die.” This is our hope, that death is not the end, but the beginning. When we consider the meaning of death in the light of eternity, we acknowledge that “death remains an enemy, an outrage, a sign of judgment, a reminder of sin, and a formidable opponent.” ( Ibid., 150) But, . . . from another perspective “it is the portal through which we pass” to new and unending life in the presence of our Lord. (Ibid.)

My friends, look around you. Many of us have known each other for three or four decades. We knew each other before losing all the hair, gaining all the weight, and undergoing all the surgeries. We can all remember the days before Insulin, Lipitor, Coumadin, and Viagra. Do not do fool yourself by living as though death will not come your way; as though the strength of your youth will not fail. I can predict your future. And it runs through Clements Funeral Home, . . . or some other mortuary. No one gets out of this life alive.

In his children’s book, The Silver Chair, C.S. Lewis tells the story of Jill, a young girl who finds herself thirsty and standing before a stream of cool, clear water. Although the sight of the water made her feel ten times thirstier than before, she didn’t rush forward and drink. She stood still as if she had been turned into stone. And she had a very good reason; just on this side of the stream sat a huge lion. Those of you who have seen the movie, The Chronicles of Narnia, have seen this great lion. His name is Aslan; he is the Christ figure in Narnia, and in the book and movie he offers himself as a sacrifice to pay for the sins of the guilty. But in this story, Aslan is the barrier between Jill and the stream of water.

After a bit, Aslan, spoke. “If you’re thirsty, you may drink” . . . . For a second Jill stared about, wondering who had spoken. Then the voice said again, “If you are thirsty, come and drink.” But Jill saw who spoke and was afraid to move. “Are you not thirsty?” said the Lion. “I’m dying of thirst,” said Jill. “Then drink,” said the Lion. “Do you eat girls?” she said. “I have swallowed up girls and boys, women and men, kings and emperors, cities and realms,” said the Lion. Aslan didn’t say this as if he were boasting, nor as if he were sorry, or even angry. He just said it. “I dare not come and drink,” said Jill. “Then you will die of thirst,” said the Lion. “Oh dear!” said Jill, coming another step nearer. “I suppose I must go and look for another stream then.” “There is no other stream,” said the Lion. Jill went forward to the stream, knelt down, and began scooping up water in her hand. It was the coldest, most refreshing water she had ever tasted. You didn’t need much of it, for it quenched your thirst at once.” (C. S. Lewis, The Silver Chair, 21.)

Let’s be clear: without Jesus, death is the beginning of unending sorrows, separation from God, and eternal darkness. Without Jesus, the emptiness that you sometimes experience now will never end— it will only grow infinitely worse. Your thirst will never be quenched. If you are trusting in Jesus, death is only the “valley of the shadow of death.” He is the living water that quenches the thirst of all who come to him and drink. You see, those who believe in Jesus pass through death and death dies as we enter into the joy of the Lord forever. What are you holding on to this day? Do you have a hope that is greater than you? Hear these words from Revelation 22:17: “The Spirit and the Bride say, ‘Come.’ And let the one who hears say, ‘Come.’ And let the one who is thirsty come; let the one who desires take the water of life without price.” There is no other stream.

Cheryl, Keith, Laura, Barry, George—we sorrow today, but not as those who have no hope, for we believe that Keith has passed from this life into the presence of his Lord. He is there with his mother Estelle and a host of other believers, without number, from every tongue, and tribe, and nation on earth. Not because Keith was worthy of heaven. Oh Lord, none of us is worthy of heaven and I might very well be the least worthy in this room. No, Keith is in the presence of the Lord because Jesus loved him with an everlasting love—dying for his sins on the cross and promising to raise him to newness of life at that last day. The book of Revelation begins with a vision of Jesus Christ. The apostle John tells us what he saw:

“Then I turned to see the voice that was speaking to me, and on turning I saw seven golden lampstands, and in the midst of the lampstands one like a son of man, clothed with a long robe and with a golden sash around his chest. The hairs of his head were white like wool, as white as snow. His eyes were like a flame of fire, his feet were like burnished bronze, refined in a furnace, and his voice was like the roar of many waters. In his right hand he held seven stars, from his mouth came a sharp two-edged sword, and his face was like the sun shining in full strength. When I saw him, I fell at his feet as though dead. But he laid his right hand on me, saying, ‘Fear not, I am the first and the last, and the living one. I died, and behold I am alive forevermore, and I have the keys of Death and Hell.’”

Jesus has the keys! The meaning of death has been transformed forever by the resurrection of our Lord, so that we cry out, “‘O grave, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting?’ The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ” (I Cor. 15:55-57). In the Heidelberg Catechism, Question 1 asks, “What is your only comfort in life and death?” And gives this answer: “That I with body and soul, both in life and death, am not my own, but belong unto my faithful Savior Jesus Christ; who, with his precious blood, has fully satisfied for all my sins, and delivered me from all the power of the devil; and so preserves me that without the will of my heavenly Father, not a hair can fall from my head; yea, that all things must be subservient to my salvation, and therefore, by his Holy Spirit, He also assures me of eternal life, and makes me sincerely willing and ready, henceforth, to live unto him.” Indeed, our comfort is this: when Keith was not able to hold on to life any longer, he belonged to his faithful Savior, Jesus, who was able to hold on to Keith. And that is our hope; in life, in death, in life beyond death. Thanks be to God.


Funeral Service for my best friend, Keith
Durham, NC
January 10, 2009

DISAPPOINTED IN GOD: Matthew 15:21-28

As we begin this morning, I have a confession to make. You can relax—my confession is not very juicy, but I am afraid you will still find it disturbing. So, here it goes: I am disappointed in the Lord. Frankly, there are times when I don’t like the way he runs things. I have been wrestling with the Lord for some things for years, and the list of things I would do differently is growing larger as I get older. At the top of that list is the 9/11 tragedy. I would not have let that happen. Instead, I would have done something suitably Old Testament to the terrorists—perhaps sending a couple of bears out of the woods to maul them to death, or letting loose a flood of water to drown them all. Better still, how about the ever-popular earth opening up and swallowing them alive? I am not really picky—just as long as they all died in some suitably horrible and preferably painful manner. You will have to forgive me; I suspect that is the warrior in me speaking.

But note this—apparently I am not the only one who has been disappointed in the Lord. The Bible is filled with people who were disappointed in the Lord. Think of Mary and Martha in John 11. They sent a message to Jesus, letting him know that his good friend Lazarus was deathly ill. Jesus responded by doing nothing, just staying put for a couple of days. By the time he decided to visit Bethany, Lazarus was dead and his cold body was in the tomb. In Luke 9, the disciples were on their way to Jerusalem when they ran into opposition from some Samaritan villagers. James and John responded to this by asking Jesus if he wanted them to call down fire from heaven to destroy the wicked Samaritans. To their disappointment, Jesus rebuked them for their haste and lack of grace.

I think it is fair to say that Job was disappointed in the Lord. The Scripture tells us the God commended Job for his faithfulness and obedience. In fact Job was the great example of faithfulness that God held up before Satan. But that faithfulness didn’t have much of a payoff, did it? All of his children, servants, flocks and herds—gone in an instant. What a payoff! Don’t you think Job was disappointed in the Lord? Indeed he was, for he spends most of the rest of the book complaining and asking for a redress of his grievances.

Apparently everyone in our text was disappointed in the Lord also. Earlier in the chapter, Jesus had engaged in open conflict with the Pharisees over their hypocrisy and faithlessness. They were disappointed that he did not keep their religious traditions. They asked him pointedly, “Why do your disciples break the tradition of the elders? They don’t wash their hands before they eat.” The Pharisees reasoned that God was pleased with externalities. Be of the right racial stock; wash your hands; keep the traditions that have been passed down. These are the things that really matter.

Jesus responded by correcting their bad theology. He called them hypocrites and blind leaders of the blind. “It’s not what goes into a man’s mouth that makes him unclean.” Jesus said. “It’s what comes out of the mouth.” Eating with dirt on your hands does not make you unclean in God’s sight. Instead, “the things that come out of the mouth come from the heart, and these make a man unclean. For out of the heart come evil thoughts, murder, adultery, sexual immorality, theft, false testimony, slander.” These things, manifested outwardly, spring from a heart made unclean by sin.

Jesus distanced himself from the Pharisees by his teaching. And, after this exchange, he distanced himself physically from the Jews. He left Galilee to travel about thirty miles northward in the direction of Tyre and Sidon, a Gentile stronghold. These cities were situated in the general vicinity of modern Beirut. The inhabitants of those lands were called “Phoenicians,” a word that comes from the Greek word for Canaanite. If you know your Old Testament, you will remember that the Canaanites were the inhabitants of the Promised Land, the wicked people who were destroyed by Joshua’s invading forces. They were notorious for their worship of many gods and their depraved religious practices. When Jesus drew near to this region, a Canaanite woman came to him begging for mercy. She asked Jesus to deliver her daughter from demon possession. Literally, “she kept on crying to him,” asking him for help.

Now, delivering someone from demon possession appears to be all in a day’s work for Jesus. Matthew had already recorded that Jesus had healed two demon-possessed men, one in chapter 8, and the other in chapter 12. Besides, according to Matthew 14:35, 36, Jesus already had been quite busy, healing people from all over the countryside. So, all things being equal, she wasn’t asking for the moon and the stars. She wasn’t even asking a favor for herself—she begged Jesus on behalf of her daughter whom she loved. We read that Jesus did not even acknowledge her request. The text is emphatic: “Not a word” did he answer her.

Well, this Canaanite woman was disappointed. She had addressed Jesus as Lord, probably a term of devotion, since she also called him by the Messianic title, “Son of David.” These expressions suggest that she was familiar with the Old Testament. She may have heard about his teaching, perhaps even knew some of the people he had healed. In light of all she knew about Jesus, she expected anything but cold, icy silence. And, so she came to him, as Mark’s account tells us, on behalf of her “little daughter” (Mark 7:25) as “soon as she heard about him.” Surely this one who had done so much for others could something for her! But, when Jesus finally spoke, he brushed her off, callously stating that he was sent only to help the lost sheep of Israel.

Now, wouldn’t you have done something to help her if you had been there? If you had the ability? Can you identify with her at all? Have you ever spent a sleepless night in a hospital waiting room? Watching the clock tick, second by second, so infinitely slowly. Have you ever been there? Have you ever prayed about something that was ripping your heart out, and felt that your prayers were bouncing off the ceiling tiles and going no higher? That was the Canaanite woman’s experience, and her heart ached with disappointment.

According to our text, the disciples also heard the woman’s cries for help. They noted Jesus’ silence and were themselves disappointed in the Lord. But consider this: they were disappointed not because Jesus failed to help this poor woman. Apparently they gave no thought to her problem at all. They just wanted her to be quiet. She was a nuisance. They wanted Jesus to send her away at once and to put an end to the noise. Now I don’t have much occasion to go to Toys ‘R Us these days. But, when my kids were small, I spent much time and much money in their stores. On too many occasions I have been to the toy store when some Mom or Dad—who did not know why God created duct tape— would beg and plead with a screaming small person to “please behave,” “please be quiet.” I would gladly have offered my services as a child-development consultant to stop the howling. Well, something similar happened in our text. The disciples just wanted Jesus to put an end to this embarrassing and irritating scene. They “kept on urging him” to send her away, and were disappointed when he did not act to end this scene.

With neither Jesus nor the disciples showing any concern at all, her disappointment should have been enough to send her packing. But this poor woman was shameless, and proceeded to act out one of the most pathetic scenes in the Bible. Throwing herself at Jesus’ feet, she cried out, “Lord, help me.” At this point she had identified herself completely with her daughter’s need. In her mind, their needs had become inseparable. Apparently unmoved by her tears and desperation, Jesus replied to her that it would be inappropriate to take the children’s food and give it to the dogs. The Jews typically viewed themselves as God’s children and considered the unclean Gentiles to be nothing more than dogs. Jesus used the very language of the Jews and by that language appeared to endorse their arrogance and exclusivism. But his intent was otherwise.

It is at this point that the woman responded in a remarkable manner. Her spirit was vexed and her heart was broken. But she would not turn aside. In humility, she acknowledged herself to be unworthy. But even as she accepted Jesus’ apparent dismissal of her as a dirty gentile, she reminded him that even the little housedogs ate crumbs that fell from their master’s table. And, we find something amazing in our text. In response to her final plea, Jesus now addresses her disappointment. He said, “Woman, great is your faith! Let it be to you as you wish. And her daughter was healed that very hour!”

What a contrast between the Canaanite woman and the Pharisees! The Pharisees were the children of the covenant. They had the oracles of God, and the Anointed One himself stood in their midst. But with all their privileges, the Lord was disappointed in them. They despised the very Bread of Life set before them. Unlike his seeming indifference to the Canaanite woman, Jesus had frequently offered himself to his own people. But now, in our text, Jesus speaks not words of comfort, but condemnation. He accused the Pharisees of drawing near with their lips while their hearts were far from him.

The Canaanite woman, however, was a foreigner to the covenant of God. Yet she drew near with her heart and hungered for the Living Bread. With her lips she sought mercy—and Jesus gave it to her. Not at first, mind you, for he withheld outwardly what he intended to give her inwardly. Jesus disappointed the Canaanite woman in order to bless her in the end. At first he ignored her with his lips in order that at last he might draw her heart close to his heart.

This has often been the experience of God’s people. Think of how long Abraham and Sarah waited for the promised son, Isaac. Think of the many times the Psalmist cried out, “O Lord, how long?” And think of the other examples we find in the New Testament. Why did Jesus delay to heal the blind men in Matthew 9? Why did he take so long before responding to Jairus whose daughter lay dying on her bed? Why did he delay those two days in Bethany, letting Lazarus slip from sickness into death, John 11:6?

In C.S. Lewis’s The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, four children, Peter, Edmund, Susan, and Lucy, are transported to the magical land of Narnia. Narnia is a strange place. There are talking animals and an evil witch who has cursed everything. In Narnia, the children prepare to meet Aslan, the Great King, the Christ Figure who brings redemption to the land of Narnia. “Who is Aslan?” asks Susan. “Aslan,” said Mr. Beaver, “Why don’t you know? He’s the King. He’s the Lord of the whole wood.” “Is—he a man?” asked Lucy. “Aslan a man!” said Mr. Beaver sternly, “Certainly not. I tell you he is the King of the wood, and the Son of the Great Emperor Beyond the Sea. Don’t you know who is the king of beasts? Aslan is a lion- the Lion, the Great Lion.” “Oooh,” said Susan, “I’d thought he was a man. Is he— quite safe?” “I shall feel very nervous about meeting a lion.” “That you will, deary, and no mistake,” said Mrs. Beaver: “If there is anyone who can appear before Aslan without their knees knocking, they’re either braver than most or else just silly.” “Then he isn’t safe?” said Lucy. “Safe?” said Mr. Beaver; “Don’t you hear what Mrs. Beaver tells you? Who said anything about safe? Course he isn’t safe. But he’s good. He’s the king, I tell you.”

Back to my confession. The Lord has disappointed me, just as he disappointed Mary and Martha, Lazarus, and Job. Just as he has disappointed every one of us on so many occasions. But consider this. Although he disappointed Mary and Martha, at the end he restored Lazarus to life, strengthening the faith of the disciples and causing many of the Jews to believe on him. He did heal the blind men. And he took Jairus’ daughter by the hand, saying “Little girl, rise up.” He does not act on our timing, but is never late for a divine appointment.

How has God disappointed you? Has he ignored your desperate pleas for help? Has he responded to your loud cries and groanings with a deafening silence? Has he let the tears flow while you knelt helplessly at his feet? Do not waste those tears. When God knocks the props out and removes the arm of flesh, do not let your trials be in vain. “The testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything” James 1:2, 3. Not one of your trials is accidental, and no disappointment is without divine purpose. They are all part of God’s plan to make you die to yourself and become more like Jesus.

As we have seen in our text, when the Lord turns a deaf ear to us, he does so to draw us closer to him, so that we may hear him more clearly when he does speak. When he ignores our cries for help, it is only to teach us what we need ask of him. He disappoints us not out of malice or indifference, but out of love. We do not understand his ways, and there are many things that puzzle us. But this much we know. When he disappoints us, it is not to hurt us, but to teach us that he alone is our joy, our contentment, and our all-sufficiency. You see, he isn’t safe. But he is good. He’s the King, I tell you.