Resolve

I can’t even begin to tell you how much stuff is happening around here. And then when I look at the calendar of events in which we as a congregation are active in our extended community with the chance to make a difference—multiple conferences, leadership meetings, legislative endeavors, you name it—the list pretty much doubles.

It’s opportune battlefront after opportune battlefront.

It’s exhilarating sometimes—and also very hopeful. But it’s also quite exhausting. The human geist that would take a deliberate step beyond thoughts and words into a field of deliberate action must demand of the body a certain diligence—a measure of understanding, resilience, and as the calendar is proving, stamina.

But there’s something else required.

Resolve.

In other words, before you jump into the trench and load the chamber of your weapon for these engagements, you must know why you’re there and what’s at stake. An unwavering commitment to going the distance to serve a cause born from your heart is essential. So many in history have pointed to the futility of a soldiery that fights without concern for or investment in an effort. In such circumstances, a committed soldier is worth a thousand uncommitted ones. It was John Keegan, the renowned military historian, who said, “Soldiers, when committed to a task, can’t compromise. It’s unrelenting devotion to the standards of duty and courage, absolute loyalty to others, not letting the task go until it’s been done.”

I said before that while the calendar seems to be an endless campaign of engagement, it’s all very hopeful. This is true because the Lord never fails to introduce me to people who exhibit the resolve I described. What’s even more impressive is that so many are entirely dismissive of being an all-star in the match. They’re not here for the Heisman Trophy. They’ve learned and practiced the fundamentals, and now they’re here to play the game and to play the game hard. They are seeing their loves—unborn children, Religious Liberty, Natural Law, Constitutional rights, you name it—all under assault from a formidable and equally committed enemy. They’ve suited up to take the field and to push the opposition back.

Again, they do this because they want to protect their loves, and they want to make sure that when the enemy approaches to attack, there will be no question as to their verve. As Homer said, they’re wise to resolve and patient to perform. The only giving up is in death, and in the meantime, the enemy will endure an unforgettable war—and perhaps even regret waging it.

I suppose in a more precise sense, I pray this same resolve for Christians when it comes to their concern for the Church, for faithfulness in worship and study, for the snatching away of the Christian faith from our children by the culture, for the unnerving dissolution of marriages and the fracturing of families, for the objective truth of God’s holy Word. I pray with the deepest concern that before we venture out to fight the hordes seeking to steal away our right to this or that, we’ll have already committed to the causes that feed the very reasons we’d be committed to these other efforts.

I mean, every life is valuable, and yet for argument’s sake—and from the Christian perspective—what good is there in being pro-life if you see very little value in taking your own children to church, being sure to introduce them to the One who can give them eternal life? What good is standing against the wealth-stealing pestilence of big government socialism when you can’t rightly govern your tithes and offerings to the Lord with the current freedom you possess? Or what good is there in fighting for traditional marriage when you yourself are living with your boyfriend or girlfriend outside of the holy estate’s boundaries?

Sort of disingenuous, don’t you think?

I do.

As Christians, let these kinds of things matter to you, especially before joining the regiments gearing up to defend the freedoms we hold dear as Americans. I guarantee you’ll have a better perspective on your loves while having a better grasp on the value of the freedoms in place to keep them secure.

“I Am Concerned to Know Nothing Else…”

We’re nearing the endpoint of Lent. This coming Sunday is Palm Sunday, and with that, we’ll begin the journey through the city streets of Jerusalem in Holy Week and we’ll find ourselves situated at the foot of Good Friday’s cross.

That’s where we’re going.

In a sense, as Christians, that’s always where we’re going, to the foot of Good Friday’s cross. Each and every day, by way of our baptism into Christ, we are those who stand alongside the preaching of Saint Paul when he declares, “For I decided to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ and him crucified” (1 Corinthians 2:2).

Why does he say it this way?

Because there on the cross, we not only see the results of Mankind’s innermost nature in Sin—the immense cost of all that we are as fallen creatures—but we also see in that terribly grotesque sight the most beautiful of occurrences: the Hope of the nations, the Rescuer of the lost, the Redeemer of the entire cosmos willingly submitting Himself to being spiked to wood as the perfect sacrifice.

This image will never be fully mined of its significance in this life. Countless theologians throughout the ages have tried to get to the absolute bottom of Calvary’s depths, but in the end, have all been forced to settle with the vocabulary and limitations of human language. Still, the power of the image, as it feeds faith, has provided for the right words to be put into the right order in order to create opportunities for the Church to sing hymns like “Jesus, Priceless Treasure.” By such sacred hymnody, the Church calls out words like, “Yet, though sin and hell assail me, Jesus will not fail me,” followed by, “Satan, I defy thee; Death I now decry thee; Fear I bid thee cease!”

Only by way of Christ’s outpouring on the cross can we sing these things with the confidence they intend.

Like other theologians in history, Luther tried to simplify the image when he wrote things like:

Look at this picture and love it. There is no greater bondage or form of service than that the Son of God should be the servant and should bear the sin of every man, however poor and wretched or despised. What an amazing thing it would be if some king’s son should go into a beggar’s hut to nurse him in his illness, wash off his filth and do all the things which otherwise the beggar would have to do. All the world would gape with open mouths, noses, ears, and eyes, and could never think and talk enough about it. Would that not be a wonderful humility?…But behold, what does it mean? The Son of God becomes my servant and humbles Himself, saying to me: ‘You are no longer a sinner, but I, I Myself step into your place. You have not sinned; I have. The whole world lies in sin, but you are not in sin, but I am. All your sin shall be upon Me, and not on you.’ No man can comprehend it. In this life hereafter we shall have a knowledge of the love of God and gaze upon it in eternal blessedness” (Exposition of John I, W.A. 46. 680 f.).

Of course, Luther is right, and as I said, we’ll never fully understand the vast dimensions of what was happening that day on that dreadful hill outside of Jerusalem’s walls, a Friday we now call “good.” Still, Lent has been helping us. It is in place to keep before us the Word of God, which reveals to us our frailty and offers the supercharged Gospel of salvation through the One who took our place in judgement.

Yes, the message is vast and powerful, but as Luther explained, it can be held so close in relative simplicity. Jesus died for you. By this act, He took your Sins on Himself. Through faith in Him and His sacrifice, all is well and you have eternal life.

Thanks be to God for this! Thanks be to God for the freedom to live in this each and every day by the power of the Holy Spirit!