Nevertheless, I did want to point out some interesting similarities in the text of Luke 9, which includes the Gospel for this Sunday, and Isaiah 50, which I happened upon while reading the other day. Here’s Isaiah 50…

Although it seems impossible now to not read Isaiah 50 Christologically, I’m not sure that I used to. The first thing that used to always jump out at me about the passage was the opening verse. I remember a pastor of mine using that first verse to justify the practice of divorce by claiming that God divorced Israel. The odd thing is that the passage seems to actually be saying the opposite: God is stating things in the negative, challenging Israel to produce something that doesn’t exist (the certificate). The reason for this reading is that the parallel example given is “Which of my creditors is it to whom I have sold you?” God obviously has no creditors; Israel was not enslaved because God needed some extra cash. He clarifies in the second have of the verse that Israel was not sent away because God decided he wanted to send her packing with a cert of divorce (which Jesus points out was only ever allowed because of the sinful, hard hearts of the people). Israel’s sinful unfaithfulness is what sent her away, and her wickedness is what enslaved her. It’s kind of an interesting passage when considering Jesus’ statement about divorce, that “what God has joined together, let man not separate.” It’s almost like… God’s mercy in Christ is entirely responsible for saving people, and man’s sinfulness is entirely responsible for condemning him. Where have I heard that before?

This tension and mystery of our gracious and all-powerful God coming to his people, and calling them, yet people refusing him, is carried through in verses 2-3.  “Why, when I came, was there no man; why, when I called, was there no one to answer? Is my hand shortened, that it cannot redeem? Or have I no power to deliver?” We see some of this happening in Luke 9, as Jesus patiently teaches his constantly erring apostles, turns away an eager bunch of would-be disciples, and in general, mercifully puts up with the faithless and twisted generation. He has the power; he’s working miracles and commissioning his apostles to do the same. He’s been transfigured in glory before his disciples. So what’s with all these problems? It’s the sinfulness of man.

Jesus isn’t too weak to deliver; his solution just looks that way to men who prefer to define God primarily according to “all-powerful awesomeness” rather than his mercy. His solution to our problem is for the Son of Man to suffer, be rejected, be killed, and be raised, for the preaching of this Gospel to reach the ears of his people so that they may receive the forgiveness of sins. For the sake of his kingdom, he set his face like flint toward Jerusalem, put his hand to the plow and did not turn back.

“The Lord GOD has given me the tongue of those who are taught, that I may know how to sustain with a word him who is weary. Morning by morning he awakens; he awakens my ear to hear as those who are taught. The Lord GOD has opened my ear, and I was not rebellious; I turned not backward. I gave my back to those who strike, and my cheeks to those who pull out the beard; I hid not my face from disgrace and spitting. But the Lord GOD helps me; therefore I have not been disgraced; therefore I have set my face like a flint, and I know that I shall not be put to shame” (Is. 50:4-7).

It’s also interesting in verse 10 that fearing the Lord is set in parallel with obeying the voice of his servant, which reminds us of the God-given authority of the servants he sends with his Word, in particular the Chosen Son of whom God says, “Listen to him!” (All this from Luke 9.) And we often associate things like the fear of the Lord and obeying with Law, but the call here is: “Let him who walks in darkness and has no light trust in the name of the LORD and rely on his God.” By contrast, those who kindle their own torches to walk by the light of their own fire will be judged by God and condemned. Salvation through faith, vs. dependence on our own deeds. Happy Augsburg Confession anniversary!

All of that was sort of convoluted. Best to just read Isaiah 50 and Luke 9 for yourself.

“When you presume to write what the Church will do when she gathers in worship, you presume a great responsibility that some do not fully comprehend.  The Church’s worship on Sunday morning is the Christian’s faith on Monday morning.  While those who do this are searching for relevance and culturally attractive and appropriate ways to use the Sunday morning experience as an entry point for those not yet in the Church, they often forget that they are also determining who the Church is, what she believes, and how she looks to the world.  For the Church’s identity in worship is the Christian’s identity Monday through Saturday.”

When you talk theology enough with different people, it becomes clear that the talk isn’t a matter of abstract, intellectual exercise. It’s not taking a position so you can be right about something, and certainly not to the end of looking down on others. It’s not mere “semantics” where we can claim, in the name of a shallow and relativistic ecumenism, to all be saying the same thing two different ways. Differences in theology, including among Christians, is a matter of quite different worldviews. It encompasses very different ways of looking at God, salvation, the Holy Spirit, your fellow man, your own deeds, the state of the world, and so on. And one also finds that, no matter what any given church claims to have as their focus, the actual focus will show through in areas like preaching. That is, so often, when the “generic God” makes his way to the forefront, when Scripture becomes a text for the distillation of random principles to enhance my suburban lifestyle and personal aims, or when the cross takes a backseat to winning the culture war or preaching social justice. Those in the pews get so used to mentally filling in the gaps that they don’t even realize that Jesus is missing.

In other news, today is BabyM’s first baptismal birthday. “I will sprinkle clean water on you, and you shall be clean from all your uncleannesses, and from all your idols I will cleanse you. And I will give you a new heart, and a new spirit I will put within you. And I will remove the heart of stone from your flesh and give you a heart of flesh. And I will put my Spirit within you, and cause you to walk in my statutes and be careful to obey my rules” (Ezekiel 36:25-27).

“As soon as the Holy Ghost enters into the heart of an individual, he becomes smaller and more modest. He no longer knows anything about himself in which he can boast, and he no longer despairs on account of his sins. He is insignificant in his own eyes, but he recognizes how great is the love of God – the patience of the Father, the redemption of Christ, and the comfort of the Holy Ghost.” — C. F. W. Walther, God Grant It! p. 460.

But the oddest quote I heard was on a discussion thread from Dawn K’s blog, a recent addition to my blog roll (Real Reality Zone). Someone had heard what they thought was a clever and profound quote that all of us believers– or “believers,” as I suppose I should say– should ask ourselves. How you answer is supposed to reveal something about where you’re at spiritually. Let’s see if I pass the test then. Just for fun, you can pose this question at your next Bible study gathering and see the responses you get. Ponder and answer it yourself before reading on.

“If you knew that God would send you to hell tomorrow, would you still worship him today?”

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So, now that you have had time to ponder this little tidbit of soul-killing misery… what was your conclusion? I think the person posing the question wants you to answer, “Yes.” My answer was a definitive “NO WAY!”

I mean, there is the basic absurdity of it, first off. I don’t know the details of what Calvinism teaches about worship in this matter, but certainly Lutherans teach that true worship necessarily involves faith in Christ. Since God does not send those with faith in Christ to hell, the question is by definition idiotic, akin to asking an unbeliever, who will remain an unbeliever, if they’re interested in worshiping God. I won’t assume that this question is reflective of mainstream Calvinist thought, though. There are probably a lot of confessional Reformed pastors shaking their heads at this question, too.

But it does nevertheless illustrate a salient difference between Lutheran and Reformed thought, and where respective teachings lead. For all the similarities that exist elsewhere in the strands of Reformation Christianity, it is observable that Reformed thought is dominated by teachings of God’s sovereignty (including election) and glory, and Lutheran thought is dominated by Christ crucified for the forgiveness of your sins.

Many believers who have been more informed by Reformed thought (i.e., most North American Protestants) are bound to approach that question and say, “Everything is to God’s glory, even my destruction. The Lord gives and takes away, blessed be the name of the Lord. God is great and sovereign; I am small and insignificant. It is true; Christ’s atonement might not have been for me after all. My loss is nothing in the grand scheme of things. It would be arrogant to insist on such personal importance. Surely this is the proper and pious answer.”

A Lutheran hears that same question and says (with characteristic mildness), “That question was spawned by Satan himself. It shows me nothing but a distant, unknowable God of power and judgment, and hides me forever from the crucified Christ. Jesus died on the cross and atoned for MY sins, indeed for the sins of the whole world, so there could be no doubt. I have God’s very Word that he has paid for my sins, justified me, baptized me, and sustains me in faith even now. I plead this true and eternal Word even at the very judgment seat of God. If such a God as you speak of were to send me to hell, covered with Christ as I am, he would not be God. He would be a wicked being who lies, does not keep his Word, and would eternally condemn even Christ himself. Such a one is not worthy of worship at all.”

The end.

[Update: Comments have been closed because we are the point of talking past each other.]

I’m not talking about me (though I don’t discount that may have happened). This was brought on by watching a video clip of some charismatic-type preacher slaying people in the Spirit. This guy was apparently Australian, if you listen. But he also sounded a lot like someone from Alabama or something. It’s possible that he grew up in the States, then lived in Australia for several years. Weird accent combo, anyway.

An example that also confused me greatly when first moving here was Canadian country music. I haven’t spent a lot of time in the most westerly regions of this country, but I’ve never really heard native Canadians talk like they’re from Tennessee. But some of them sing country music like they are. Imported twang sounds weird to me, eh!

Has anyone else out there heard any interesting, or just odd-sounding, accent melding? I’m thinking not so much of the effects of living in more than one country; I’m most curious about native-borns using bits of “imported accent” because that accent is native to their area of interest (i.e. a certain kind of preaching, singing).

I couldn’t find And Then There Were None at our local library, but Alex thinks he might have a copy downstairs.