For Joy

“As they were talking about these things, Jesus himself stood among them, and said to them, “Peace to you!” But they were startled and frightened and thought they saw a spirit. And he said to them, “Why are you so troubled, and why do doubts arise in your hearts? See my hands and my feet, that it is I myself. Touch me, and see. For a spirit does not have flesh and bones as you see that I have.” And when he had said this, he showed them his hands and his feet. And while they still disbelieved for joy and were marveling, he said to them, “Have you anything here to eat?” They gave him a piece of broiled fish, and he took it and ate before them.” (Luke 24:36-43)

At first, the disciples misunderstood the resurrection. They didn’t get it. The most believing of them thought he was a ghost. The others doubted even that, maybe thinking that he was just some kind of hallucination. They misunderstood and disbelieved what he said earlier because of fear and worry.

But Jesus has a way of dispelling illusions and correcting wrongs. He presents himself as evidence that he really has resurrected, just like he said. And they get it. For one of the first times the disciples begin to actually grasp the ramifications of what Jesus has done. But instead of immediately believing, they still disbelieve, but because of joy.

You see, that’s the temptation. Once we ever begin to understand the promises Jesus fulfills, once we begin to grasp what God is really offering in the Bible, it is a sincere temptation to disbelieve for joy. The one thought which here seized upon the disciples can grasp us too, “It’s too good to be true.”

We (or at least if you’re like me) want to think that God could never be so good to us. All that stuff about living in his direct, joyous, happy, approving presence and ruling with Christ and being given a whole new creation to work in and explore and being called sons of the kingdom and beloved children of God seems too much for us. Yes God is so great and so good, but we really are too bad for that to be ours. It’s too hard to believe, at least as far as for me. I’m content to just get in to heaven. All those extra, wondrous things can overlook me and I’ll be perfectly pleased and joyous in a corner, after all, I don’t deserve anything more than that. Right?

Well, no, you don’t. And that’s part of the point. You don’t deserve all that. Neither do I. Jesus does. And his death and resurrection secure them for everyone who believes in him. The great reversal of the Gospel is that Jesus took what we deserve and gives us what he deserves. The presence of the Father (and the whole Godhead to boot), co-reign with Christ, being a joint heir of absolutely everything with Christ, being a son or a daughter of God, all that is yours in Christ.

It is a temptation to disbelieve for joy. But God really is that good, He really is that willing (dare I say, eager?) to give you all the blessings of Himself, Christian.

And this should minister to the soul. Because in the truth of our sinfulness, it’s easy to feel like God must not really like us very much at the moment. It’s easy to feel like we’re gradually dropping down the levels of heaven. It’s easy to feel that we’re so bad that God will give us some kind of second-class salvation still (certainly we say it) greater than anything we could ever deserve, but not nearly as good as those super-Christians.

But that’s not it at all. All of those promises are purely upon the condition of faith. There is no second class salvation. Be encouraged, Christian, your Father is pleased to give you the kingdom. Well pleased.

-djstevens

On Hosea

A friend’s post ( http://beccagain.tumblr.com/post/3729366970/engaged ) got me (re)thinking about the book of Hosea. I love that book. It’s a serious contender for favorite minor prophet (and yes, that is a tough race). And what I’ve been thinking about is why I love that book so much, and I’ve come up with two reasons.

Reason the first: I like to think of myself in the place of Hosea. Whether it’s pride or a desire for actual godliness, I’m not sure, but I read through the first three chapters and I imagine myself doing all the things Hosea did. I want to see myself as making that kind of a sacrifice. I want to see myself opening up to so much pain just to show the glory of God’s work, just to show how far God will go to save sinners. I want to be that obedient, that humble, that willing to do absolutely anything and bear any shame for the sake of God. It’s a stunning picture the prophet provides for us, and I want my life to be a picture of the faithfulness of God, and so I imagine myself in Hosea’s shoes.

Reason the second: I’m not Hosea.

I’m Gomer.

I’m the one with the wandering heart. I’m the one who takes the gifts of God, thinks of them as my own, and goes and squanders them on my own wants. I’m not the faithful husband, I’m the unfaithful bride who needs to be brought back, who needs to be bought back from slavery to my former desires. I’m the one who can’t rest for a second without hearing the sounds of the city calling me back. I’m the one who has forgotten all about the love I was made for and who chases after anything else. I’m the one who desperately needs to be saved both from the results of my actions, and from myself.

That’s me.

And that’s you.

But there’s still Hosea. And he comes, and he pays the price, and he buys us back.

But to buy us back it cost more than silver and grain. It cost him his life. He came, and in glorious pursuit speaks tenderly to us not only with his last, gasping words, but also with the victorious timbre of one who has paid for our debts and conquered our death.

Now we must respond.

-djstevens

(Read Hosea 1-3)