Pure Church

"Our best duties are so many splendid sins."
--George Whitefield

Read the excellent quotation on "the archaeology of repentance" over at Christ Is Deeper Still.

The iMonk has a good post today about people who have gotten the message that they aren't welcome at church because of cohabiting or some other sin. One paragraph I appreciated:

Christians believe some things very deeply, but they don’t always see things clearly or express them with Gospel wisdom. When they forget the Gospel, they forget who they are and start finding ways to be justified in comparison to “real sinners.” There’s nothing about the Kingdom of God in a snarky morality club, but too many people don’t know the difference. They usher people out as if they are the angels gathering the elect at the last day, not signs pointing every person, no matter what their sin of the day, to the savior and the wedding feast at the end of the world.

Read the entire post here.

I'm reminded this morning that the foolish sins of leaders have devastating effects on the lives of God's people. In 1 Chronicles 21, King David instructs Joab and the commanders of the army to take a census of Israel. For that decision, incited by Satan (v. 1) under the sovereign control and anger of God (2 Sam. 24:1), God displays his wrath against the people of Israel.

David confesses his sin simply and powerfully: "I have sinned greatly in that I have done this thing. But now, please take away the iniquity of your servant, for I have acted very foolishly" (v. 8). What was his great sin and the very foolish act?

It's not simply taking a census. In numerous passages of the Old Testament a census is taken. A census was taken for military purposes (Num 1:3, 45; 26:2), for the sanctuary tax (Ex. 30:11-16; 38:25-28; Num. 3:40-41), for populating the land (Num. 26:52-55; Neh. 3:40-41), for organizing the Levites (Num. 3:14-39; 1 Chr. 23), and for building the temple (2 Chr. 2:17-18). The census isn't itself the problem.

The great sin, the foolish act, was to act:

1. Independent of God's purpose. In all the other instances of census taking, there is a specific God ordained purpose for the census. The census isn't an end itself; it serves some other goal in God's expressed will. David's action was taken without consideration of the purposes of God.

2. Ignorant of God's power. Joab speaks to warn David against this act, saying, "May the Lord add to his people a hundred times as many as they are!" (3a). David blows past his friend's warning. He wants a count, and seems to think his own military prowess depends upon the size of his army and not the "size" of his God.

3. Unappreciative of God's gifts. Joab goes on to point out, "Are they [the people] not, my lord the king, all of them my lord's servants? Why then should my lord require this?" (3b). The Lord had taken David from the sheep pastures and made him king over all Israel. He had been given a stewardship, to shepherd all of the people of Israel. Even if he had an exact head count, it would not change his stewardship responsibility and privilege for every one of them. He failed to appreciate them singly and ultimately collectively.

4. Undeterred by advanced warning. Joab concludes his speech by saying, "Why should it be a cause of guilt for Israel?" (3d). The counting of the people by the head of the people would bring guilt on all of the people. Indeed, the three possible punishments all affected the entire nation (vv. 11-12). David's sin is not a victimless crime. He vaults over Joab's warning, and with him the entire nation lands in the pit of God's wrath. He awakens to his folly in v. 17, praying to God he says, "Was it not I who gave command to number the people? It is I who have sinned and done great evil. But these sheep, what have they done? Please let you hand, O Lord my God, be against me and against my father's house. But do not let the plague be on your people." The life of the leader affects the people.

I'm certain I've committed every one of David's errors and thus very great and foolish sins of my own. Before the day is over, I'll have done it several times again. I'll lose sight of God's purposes. I'll act without dependence upon His power but my own. My sinful heart will grumble in some pastoral responsibility, failing to see the precious gift and privilege it is to serve as a shepherd of God's people, entrusted to my care. And, boy, will there be warnings everywhere. But I'll not see or heed some of them. And with pride far surpassing David's, I'll act foolishly and sin greatly against the God I love. And in some way, sometimes small and sometimes significant, one or more of the sheep will be affected. I'm a great sinner, the worst I know.

But what shines through most gloriously in this chapter isn't David's sin; it's God's mercy. God's wrath is terrible, but His mercy triumphs over judgment. God sends the judgment but He also stays the sword of the angel of the Lord. He doesn't have to, but He accepts David's sacrifice. The altar David builds will one day become the Temple of Israel. The sacrifice David also will one day be surpassed by the perfect sacrifice God will make of His own Son. And by His sacrifice the Lord Jesus becomes a living stone Who makes of us living stones in a new temple to the Lord (1 Pet. 2:4-5). And one day yet future, soon to come, He'll bring us into His glorious presence where the Lord God Almighty and the Lamb will be the Temple of that place (Rev. 21:22). Shining all through 1 Chronicles 21 and the remainder of the Bible is the staggering mercy of God toward sinners!

The Lesson: Avoid foolish, sinful leadership by depending upon the purposes, power, gifts and warnings of God, as you look to the mercy of God in Christ and the hope of glory.

Oliver Wendell Homes:

"Sin has many tools, but a lie is the handle that fits them all."

My wife forwarded to me this brief piece of parenting wisdom from Mary Kassian:

I want to share one of the prayers that I prayed from time to time when I sensed that something was amiss in my child’s life (and this continues to this day, even now that they are young adults). The prayer was this: “Lord, Please reveal sin.” I prayed for everything hidden to be exposed by the light—and then I kept my eyes and ears open and remained spiritually attentive.

The Lord never failed to answer this prayer. Sometimes, it was extremely painful when sin was revealed—but I asked God not to hold back in exposing and dealing with sin. (P.S.: Make sure you’re willing to have Him reveal and deal with the sin in your life too!)

Read the entire post. I think we'll start to ask the Lord to do this in our lives as a family.

and the cross-fertilization she shares with the wider church, our brother Wyeth Duncan is meditating on AME liturgy and its indebtedness to the Methodist Episcopal Church which is indebted to the Book of Common Prayer. But what draws his attention this morning is this line of general confession in the communion liturgy: "We do earnestly repent, and are heartily sorry for these our misdoings; the remembrance of them is grievous unto us."

I remember the first time I heard those words prayed. My heart went, "Yes. I'm grieved by my sin!" The prayer so wonderfully gives wording and vent to the Christian heart drawn in remembrance to its wanderings. And yet, we don't stop with grieving, for in heaven sits enthroned our Perfect Righteousness. Our grief is turned to joy when our eyes are turned to Christ. In the gospel is the complete forgiveness of sins, but also the imputation of perfect righteousness which consoles us even when the knowledge of forgiveness can't.

Grieve for your sins today. Then rejoice in Christ's everlasting righteousness!

JT posted the following excerpt from Tripp's new book, Whiter Than Snow: Meditations on Sin and Mercy. I, too, found it convicting and helpful and liberating. Visit JT's post and also find a video of Tripp reading from and discussing the book.

It wasn’t a big deal in one way. Just a small conversation that had turned a bit ugly. It wasn’t a dramatic life-altering moment. It was in the privacy of my home with one of my family members. But maybe that’s the point. Perhaps it’s very important because that’s where I live everyday. You see, you and I don’t live in a series of big, dramatic moments. We don’t careen from big decision to big decision. We all live in an endless series of little moments. The character of a life isn’t set in ten big moments. The character of a life is set in 10,000 little moments of everyday life. It’s the themes of struggles that emerge from those little moments that reveal what’s really going on in our hearts.

So, I knew I couldn’t back away from this little moment. I knew I had to own my sin. The minute I thought this, an inner struggle began. "I wasn’t the only one at fault. If he hadn’t said what he said, I wouldn’t have become angry. I was actually pretty patient for much of the conversation." These were some of the arguments I was giving myself.

Isn’t this interesting. Rather than appealing to the mercy of the Lord in the face of my sin, what I actually do instead is function as my own defense lawyer and present a list of arguments for my own righteousness. The theology behind the defense is that my greatest problem is outside of me, not inside of me. In so arguing, I’m telling myself that I don’t really need to be rescued by the Lord’s mercy. No, I’m telling myself that what I need to be rescued from is that sinner in the room who caused me to respond as I did.

Here’s the point. Before you can ever make a clean and unamended confession of your sin, you have to first begin by confessing your righteousness. It’s not just your sin that separates you from God, your righteousness does as well. Because, when you are convinced you are righteous, you don’t seek the forgiving, rescuing, and restoring mercy that can only be found in Jesus Christ.

What’s actually true is that when I come to the Lord after I’ve blown it, I’ve only one argument to make. It’s not the argument of the difficulty of the environment that I am in. It’s not the argument of the difficult people that I’m near. It’s not the argument of good intentions that were thwarted in some way. No, I only have one argument. It’s right there in the first verse of Psalm 51, as David confesses his sin with Bathsheba. I come to the Lord with only one appeal; his mercy. I’ve no other defense. I’ve no other standing. I’ve no other hope. I can’t escape the reality of my biggest problem; me! So I appeal to the one thing in my life that’s sure and will never fail. I appeal to the one thing that guaranteed not only my acceptance with God, but the hope of new beginnings and fresh starts. I appeal on the basis of the greatest gift I ever have or ever will be given. I leave the courtroom of my own defense, I come out of hiding and I admit who I am. But I’m not afraid, because I’ve been personally and eternally blessed. Because of what Jesus has done, God looks on me with mercy. It’s my only appeal, it’s the source of my hope, it’s my life. Mercy, mercy me!

I've just started John Ensor's book, The Great Work of the Gospel. I've only read a couple chapters and already it's been a very helpful, edifying, and God-glorifying read. This morning Ensor offered a really insightful couple of paragraphs on forgiveness:

Ask a hundred people if they want forgiveness, and a hundred people will say, "Yeah, sure. And can I have fries with that, and a large Pepsi?" They have no great sense of needing God's forgiveness but believe it would not hurt to have it in their pocket just in case. Religion is, I fear, most often practiced to buy off God's anger, to pay for a sin done, so that one is free to go on in it. We throw ourselves into church or confession as a burglar might throw a steak to a watchdog--to keep him at a safe distance. C.S. Lewis had his own witty way of describing the problem: "Amiable agnostics will talk cheerfully about 'man's search for God.' To me, as I then was, they might as well have talked about the mouse's search for the cat."

Our natural belief about ourselves is that we are pretty darned good people, though we are not too proud to admit that we have made a few mistakes along the way. This allows us to confess a little guilt, but in a self-flattering way. We say, "Well, I admit I'm not perfect." We do not mean to be humble here, as in "Now, honey, remember I'm not a perfect husband." We say it defensively: "Okay! I'm not perfect." Translation: "Other than a blemish or two, I sparkle. So get off my case!"

We also like to say, "I'm only human." By this we man, "My sin should be excused because, as a human being, I really can't help it."

Even when we feel guilty, we do not believe it is because we are guilty. (p. 32)

This is looking like it's going to be a great read. I've already been drawn more deeply into the great work of God through Christ Jesus His Son and our Lord.

Challies has a review here.