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Taste and see! There is an interesting sequence in the first three verses of the second chapter of Peter’s first epistle. A changed life (vs. 1) depends upon proper nourishment (vs. 2) and is based on an experience of the goodness of the Lord (vs. 3). ”Now that you have tasted that the Lord is good” has always been the first step in this process. Spiritual growth is our response to God’s goodness. We “taste” and it is so delicious we simply have to have more. Tasting is experiential. There are those who would like to follow Christ but before they take that first crucial step they would like to have all their questions answered. But it doesn’t work that way. There is always another question. Faith operates in something less than an environment of absolute intellectual proof. Yet it is not a leap in the dark. As Dr. Carnell used to tell his seminary students, “Faith is the resting of the mind in the sufficiency of the evidence.” We are confident that the bridge we are about to cross will not collapse -- the “evidence” is not complete but it is adequate – so we drive ahead “by faith.” Faith is the decision to go ahead and “taste.” The Psalmist encourages us to “taste and see that the Lord is good” (Psa. 34:8). There is no other way. Standing outside a famous cathedral such as St. Paul’s in London the dust covered window is not especially attractive, but go inside and look through that same window at the rising sun and beauty sheds its glow throughout the room. The “inside” experience trumps the “outside” appraisal. Taste the Lord — go inside and experience him as he truly is — and you will understand his goodness and grace. That is what happened to Dr. Francis Collins, the American geneticist who directed the famous Human Genome Project. During his early years on the project he was not a believer. I heard him acknowledge before an audience that one day upon reflecting on matters of science and faith he realized that he had never considered faith with the same care that he used in a scientific experiment. When he looked at all the related evidence he became what he calls a “serious Christian.” As Peter says, “Taste and see that the Lord is good.”
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I have always been intrigued by the metaphors of Scripture. And there are a lot of them. There is no other way to speak of life in a totally distinct realm other than to use terms that are meaningful in ours? In chapter one Peter has talked about entering a spiritual realm by a “new birth” (a this-world occurrence, 1:3), having an “inheritance” in heaven (a normal social custom, 1:4), and being “redeemed” by a death (as in a slave market, 1:18). And now in 2:1 he talks about “thirsting” like newborn babies for the milk of God’s Word. Let's examine this last metaphor. What is it that Peter want us to picture in our mind when he speaks of "thirsting" for spiritual milk?
It is obvious that as believers we desperately need nourishment to grow and maintain a robust health. Without the regular provision of the mother, the baby will die. Would this happen in the spiritual word being described by this metaphor? At this point we must be careful not to build our theology solely on metaphors. It is clear that if, in this life, we quit eating we will die. Whether or not it would be true in the world of the Spirit depends on the more extensive theological teaching of scripture and theology. The metaphor suggests that the milk that nourishes our theological life is to be both pure and spiritual. While the Greek logikos can mean “rational,” here its connection with the “word (logos) of God” in 1:23 makes it refer to Scripture. It is God’s word that nourishes the child of God. It is natural for us to “cry out for this nourishment” (NLT), especially now that we have tasted it and found in it the kindness of the Lord. (v. 2) One caution. Although we ought to desire the spiritual milk like newborn babies, the metaphor does not encourage us to remain that way indefinitely but to grow up into the fullness of all that salvation means. I’ve been listening to David Jeremiah each Sunday morning and am somewhat intrigued by his alliterative outlines. They are a) helpful in learning, b) healing for life, and c) hard to live up to (Just couldn’t resist that!). So I took a second look at Peter’s counsel in chapter one that we are to “love one another fervently from a pure heart” (v. 22), and asked how the good doctor might expand that from context. I believe he might tell us that we have been ENABLED to love because we have “purified our souls by obedience to the truth” (vs. 22), ENCOURAGED by love because we have been “born again . . . by the Word of God” (vs. 23), and ENLISTED in love because like “grass” (vs. 24) our time is short and that calls for discipline.
My point is homiletical. I would never say alliteration is the answer, but it does lead us to examine an individual text in its scriptural context. Attention to context shows the inter-related nature of the various elements in the text and provides new insights. Too many sermons are religious essays that, while not necessarily wrong, are not expositions of the Word. When you get right down to it, hungry hearts want to hear what God has to say. It’s discouraging that so often the congregation hears what the preacher thinks about a text rather than what God is saying. It’s fun to be reminded that Ambrose Bierce wrote, somewhat satirically, that love is “a temporary insanity curable by marriage” and that Veronica Hay, the inspirational author, understands love as “that deep joy of connectivity.” However, significantly beyond the best that even the most gifted speaker could ever say is the powerful reality of God himself speaking in and through his spokesman. The primary goal of the person in the pulpit is to explain the text and in the process allow God himself to be the one who speaks to the heart. It may seem strange to the contemporary churchgoer but God is actually there. He is the one who addresses the specific needs of those who are listening. Proclaiming the good news is not so much telling it to people as it is allowing God to use your words to speak directly to the human heart. No one stepping behind the pulpit should forget that “the supreme task of every preacher is to lead people into the presence of God.” “Born again” is an expression that reminds many of us over 60 of the tent meetings and revivalist preachers we knew during our early years. They usually showed up in the summer for special meetings and by the end of the week every last one of us knew without a doubt that to go to heaven we had to be born again. Exactly what took place in that supernatural birth was not quite clear, but that it had to happen was forever established in heaven.
You don’t hear the expression as often of late, but that doesn’t diminish its significance. In vs. 23 of chapter one, Peter speaks of the grandeur of this event. He that something as significant as being “born again” requires a “seed” that is imperishable. One doesn’t enter the realm of the supernatural by natural means. Nothing created can ascend on its own to a level that is by definition beyond it – supernatural, above that which is natural. One has to be drawn up by supernatural means. So what does Peter tell us about this imperishable “seed” that enters our created realm and gives birth to a life that will never perish? Most importantly he identifies it as the “living and enduring word of God.” New life is the result of an eternal God speaking it into existence. In the beginning, God spoke and what had never been, suddenly was (Hebrews 11:3). Now he speaks and once again his redemptive word creates the imperishable. God is in the business of producing life that will never cease. In a spiritual sense, creation has never stopped. The ongoing process continues as one by one people are “born again” into the spiritual realm in which God has always existed. He speaks through faithful proclaimers of his Word and those who hear are reborn into the everlasting domain of the Spirit. One may be tempted to say, “That’s all so sort of ethereal; not at all what we are experiencing in life as we know it.” Right! It is not part of ordinary life. To enter God’s kingdom through the new birth is to find oneself in a totally new setting. Paul says, “Behold, old things are passed away, all things are new” (2 Corin. 5:17). The new birth results in having a new nature and that nature is one that is compatible with a God whose reality is “new” to our former limited experience. Once we enter this new realm we see all of life from a new perspective. The eyes of faith can see around the corners of materialism and watch the involvement of God in creating for himself a new order – a race of born-again believers. For most of us, especially when we were young, the word “obedience” had a rather somber sound. It suggested restriction, rules, lack of freedom, a gloomy outlook on life. But in reality, obedience is God’s way of providing us with a life rich in joy and deep satisfaction. Granted, we don’t tend to think of it in just that way but what we think does not determine what is true. God knows – and experience will prove – that obedience, in directing us away from the path of self-indulgence, saves us from sadness and regret.
In the opening chapter of his first letter Peter speaks of “purifying ourselves by obeying the truth” (vs. 22). But how could that be? How could we actually make ourselves pure? We know in our heart that we need to be cleansed on a continuing basis but isn’t that something that only God can do? Peter’s fellow disciple, John, has taught us that if we confess our sins God will forgive us and as a result we will be clean (1 John 1:22). For the sensitive believer, confession and cleansing is a continuing experience in life. We do the confessing, he does the cleansing. But Peter is talking about us “purifying ourselves.” The NIRV clearly says, “You have made yourselves pure by obeying the truth.” But how can we do that? Obviously we could pronounce ourselves forgiven but in that case nothing would happen because cleansing is God’s prerogative. So let’s look at Peter’s statement in a slightly different way. Whenever you do something you know to be wrong, how do you feel? Most of us would confess an uncomfortable sense of guilt, the need for cleansing. And how do you feel when you have done something that is obviously the right thing? Quite the opposite – clean and washed. Think about it for a moment! I spoke a bit sharply to a waitress who was slow in bringing me my order. How did I feel about that when I realized that all the other waitresses were on break? I helped a lady struggling to get all her groceries into her car and months later I learned that she couldn’t forget that simple act of kindness. There is a very real sense in which obedience serves to cleanse us in a personal and experiential sense. We feel clean when our actions are in accord with our conscience. Or, as Peter puts it, we are “purified . . . by obeying the truth.” “Born again” is an expression that reminds many of us over 60 of the tent meetings and revivalist preachers we knew during our early years. They usually showed up in the summer for special meetings and by the end of the week every last one of us knew without a doubt that to go to heaven we had to be born again. Exactly what took place in that supernatural birth was not quite clear, but that it had to happen was forever established in heaven.
You don’t hear the expression as often of late, but that doesn’t diminish its significance. In vs. 23 of chapter one, Peter speaks of the grandeur of this event. He that something as significant as being “born again” requires a “seed” that is imperishable. One doesn’t enter the realm of the supernatural by natural means. Nothing created can ascend on its own to a level that is by definition beyond it – supernatural, above that which is natural. One has to be drawn up by supernatural means. So what does Peter tell us about this imperishable “seed” that enters our created realm and gives birth to a life that will never perish? Most importantly he identifies it as the “living and enduring word of God.” New life is the result of an eternal God speaking it into existence. In the beginning, God spoke and what had never been, suddenly was (Hebrews 11:3). Now he speaks and once again his redemptive word creates the imperishable. God is in the business of producing life that will never cease. In a spiritual sense, creation has never stopped. The ongoing process continues as one by one people are “born again” into the spiritual realm in which God has always existed. He speaks through faithful proclaimers of his Word and those who hear are reborn into the everlasting domain of the Spirit. One may be tempted to say, “That’s all so sort of ethereal; not at all what we are experiencing in life as we know it.” Right! It is not part of ordinary life. To enter God’s kingdom through the new birth is to find oneself in a totally new setting. Paul says, “Behold, old things are passed away, all things are new” (2 Corin. 5:17). The new birth results in having a new nature and that nature is one that is compatible with a God whose reality is “new” to our former limited experience. Once we enter this new realm we see all of life from a new perspective. The eyes of faith can see around the corners of materialism and watch the involvement of God in creating for himself a new order – a race of born-again believers. Peter is perfectly clear in his expectations for the Gentile converts to whom he writes: He says, “Be holy.” The word “holy” always struck me as sort of “churchy.” You could use it on Sunday when you were in church but not during the week at football practice or in the school cafeteria. I knew that “saints” were regarded as holy but they belonged in the windows of cathedrals. You could tell they were holy by how grim they looked! I reasoned that certain preachers must be holy because they had that look. They told us to be holy, and they wouldn’t tell us to be something they weren’t, would they? In any case, being holy didn’t especially appeal to me as a teenager even though it was clearly taught in 1 Pet 1:15, “Be holy in all you do.” As I grew older my understanding of who God was and what he expected of us matured. I no longer viewed him as a sort of cosmic schoolmaster burdened with the task of educating us to the realities of life. Along the way I learned an extremely important lesson — that God’s role was not to keep us from doing what we wanted to do, but to free us to do the things that in the long run would bring us the greatest satisfaction. In WW II my brother George was an underwater demolition expert. Among other things he laid out mine fields. When one of our ships had to go through the area he gave them a map of where the mines were located. Why? The obvious answer is so they wouldn’t hit one of their own mines and be blown out of the water. The Bible is God’s map of the “mines of life” — He wants us to be able to travel though life without getting blown up by our own sins. He wants us to be holy, not to measure up to some standard he has set up, but for our own sake. To be holy means to share in God’s likeness. God’s children are to have a certain family likeness. We are to be holy because, as vs. 16 says — “Because I am holy.” As children of God our conduct should remind others of our Father. It is that simple. Granted, that’s a long way to go, but at least we can set out on the journey. “Be holy!” he says. And if we dare ask why, he will tell us, “Because I am holy.” That is a natural part of being part of his family. A man has two sons. The first does whatever he is told. If the father tells him to water the ox he puts down his book, goes to the stockade where the ox is kept, fills a bucket with water and takes it to the ox. The other son is different; he too does whatever his father asks but that is not the end of the story. He spends time thinking about various ways in which he would be able to bring pleasure to his father. Just carrying out his chores is not enough. He asks himself, “How can I do other things to brighten his day. If this were a biblical parable the author would ask the question, “And which is the obedient son?”
In his first letter Peter refers to his readers as “obedient children’ and counsels them, “Do not conform to the evil desires you had when you lived in ignorance” (vs. 14). But will they? It is interesting in the Greek text Peter calls the “teknia hupakoes,” (children of obedience — that is, children in who the spirit of obedience dwelt). This indicates that Peter viewed them not simply as believers who did the right thing (son #1), but as those whose deepest desire was to bring pleasure to God (son #2). And this makes all the difference in the world. One thing that the Sermon on the Mount teaches is that the ethics of the old order didn’t go far enough. “Don’t commit adultery” is replaced by “don’t look at a woman lustfully” (Matt 5:27) and “eye for eye” with “turn the other cheek” (Matt 5:39). God didn’t send his Son to make people act better, but to be better. He desires us to be “children in whom the spirit of obedience dwells.” One other thing needs to be said about obedience. We normally think of it as carry out the expectations of another person or the social group in which we live. It is that which we owe for the privilege of living in an ordered world. The dictionary refers to obedience as “dutiful or submissive compliance.” But certainly that is not the kind of obedience God desires on the part of his children. His desire is that we be inwardly transformed by the presence of his Spirit so that now we long to live in a way that pleases him. That is not obedience in the dark sense of submission to a set of rules, but of living in conformity to His nature and this brings incredible joy both to him and to us, his “children of obedience." |
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November 2018
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