Sermon Notes: 1 PETER 1:3-12
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We now come to some hard words, whether they are hard to understand or simply hard to take. And as we seek to be faithful to what God has given us here, we have to be mindful of Peter’s caution—there are places in Paul’s epistles where it is not safe for ignorant or unstable people to go (2 Pet. 3:16). But if we receive the hard words the right way, the reward will be tender hearts. If we reject these hard words, then it will be our hearts that become hard—just like Pharaoh’s.
“What shall we say then? Is there unrighteousness with God? God forbid . . .” (Rom. 9:14-24).
We have already seen Paul refuses to let us draw the conclusion that God is ineffectual (v. 6). Here he refuses the implication that God is unrighteous (v. 14). This means that he rejects the ancient Epicurean conundrum on the problem of evil—wherein God must either be incompetent or malevolent. Paul rejects both options. Paul vindicates God from charges of unrighteousness by citing the divine prerogative, as spoken to Moses (v. 15). God will have mercy on those He will have mercy on, and He will show compassion to those He wants to show compassion to. Note that we are talking about mercy and compassion, not justice. It does not depend on the one who wills or runs, but rather upon the mercy of God (v. 16). The flip side of this (not showing mercy) is evidenced in God’s treatment of Pharaoh (v. 17). Paul repeats the principle again, this time with both sides stated (v. 18). Then the obvious objection is raised—if God makes us do these things, how can He judge us for them (v. 19)? Paul’s answer looks like a non-answer to us—as in, “shut up, he explained” (vv. 20-21). But there is far more to it than that. What if God, wanted to display His wrath, needed vessels of wrath (v. 22)? What if He, in order to display His mercy, needed vessels of mercy (v. 23)? And those vessels of mercy, as it turned out, were selected not only from the Jewish race, but also from all the nations (v. 24).
The biblical position on this issue is concerned to reject the either/or fallacy of impotence or malevolence. The biblical position begins by asserting the prerogatives of God, and not the rights of man. As it turns out, that is the only way to preserve anything for man. And the biblical position provokes the objection of v. 19. Just as preaching the gospel of grace will provoke the objection that this leads to “sinning that grace may abound” (6:1), so the preaching of sovereign grace will provoke this objection—and nothing else will.
When Paul summarizes the objection that is mounted against what he is saying, our initial reaction to it is yeah! “What about that?” If God hardens some and has mercy on others, where does He get off blaming us for being hard? It is as though God commands the little wood puppet to avoid certain evil dances, then makes the puppet dance them, and then smashes the puppet to smithereens. “Bad puppet!”
Before answering the objection, if your sympathies are there, whose side are you on? Paul’s or the apostolic critic?
Paul’s answer does two things. First, it assumes the absolute right of the Creator to dispose of His creation as He pleases. God is the Potter, and we are the clay (Is. 64:8). But second, notice that he also presupposes genuine moral responsibility on the part of the clay. He blames the clay for thinking a certain way, and for “replying against God.” The point of his illustration is to display relationship, and not to claim that men are inert substances like clay. They are subject to authority like clay. In some respects we are nothing like clay, being much greater than clay—but of course, God is infinitely greater than a potter. We are more like clay than God is like a potter. We are more like fictional characters in a Shakespeare play than God is like Shakespeare.
When Paul reminds you that God is the Potter, don’t try to get satisfaction by making Him just ten times bigger than we are. God is not a big creature, like Zeus was. When one creature forces another, his exercise of freedom displaces the freedom of the one acted upon. If we conceive of God like that, simply bigger than anything, we cannot escape the idea that He is actually a bully. But remember the Creator/creature divide. But I have a question. In the scene where Hamlet is deciding whether to kill his uncle while he is at his prayers—how much of that is Shakespeare, and how much of it is Hamlet?
So why is there sin and evil in the world? This is the ancient question—why would an omnipotent, omni-righteous God create a world that would go off the rails the way it has? Paul does not assert here, but he does indicate a direction—what if? If this were the answer, Paul would have no problem with it. In a world without sin and evil, two attributes of God would go unmanifested. And since their manifestation glorifies God, In a world without sin, we would not see God’s fierce wrath and His great power. But it glorifies Him for us to see His wrath and power. That is the first reason. The second is that in a world without sin, we would not see the greatness of His mercy. In order to forgive sinners, we must have them. Before reacting against these suggestions in anger, take a moment to compare this answer to the typical “free will” theodicy. The evil is there—to which god is it offered?
It is strange that a passage so full of mercy could generate so much anger and distress. God offers His mercy through Christ, and we don’t want to take it because mercy presupposes our wickedness (Is. 64:8). If there are ten inmates on death row, and the governor pardons seven of them, what is that? If it is mercy, then how is it construed as injustice to the remaining three?
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We come now to the central lesson of all evangelical religion. We come now to the glorious revelation of the sovereign grace of God, as revealed in the gospel, and only through the gospel. We come now to the promises, which are great and precious.
“Neither, because they are the seed of Abraham, are they all children: but, In Isaac shall thy seed be called. That is, They which are the children of the flesh, these are not the children of God . . .” (Rom. 9:7-13).
We have seen that not everyone who is of Israel is to be counted as Israel. This answers the objection God’s word has somehow failed (v. 6). But how does this work out in the course of scriptural history? For example, in order to be a “child of Abraham” it is necessary to be more than a child of Abraham. The promise was given to the line of Isaac (v. 7). Paul quotes Gen. 21:12 here. He then says that Abraham had two kinds of children—children of the flesh and children of the promise. The children of the promise are the ones who are considered to be his seed (v. 8). Quoting Gen. 18:10,14, Paul quotes the promise directly. Not only that, but the same thing is repeated over again in the next generation. Rebecca conceived twins by one man, the patriarch Isaac (v. 10). And then Paul says that before these twins were born, and so that God’s prerogatives in election would stand unchallenged (v. 11), God declared through a prophecy that the elder would serve the younger (v. 12). This is found in Gen. 25:23. And finishing the thought, the apostle quotes from Mal. 1:2-3. Jacob was loved by God, and Esau was hated and rejected by Him (v. 13).
In debates between Calvinists and Arminians, a point is often made about that inflammatory quote—”Esau I hated”—and it is a point we should readily grant, but only to a point. The quotation is not from the book of Genesis, like the others here, and is rather from the last book of the Old Testament (Mal. 1:2-3). Malachi in context is talking about the nations of Israel and Edom. It is the word of the Lord to Israel (Mal. 1:1), and His hatred of Esau is why Edom is referred to as judged (v. 4). If we are following Paul’s argument here in Romans, the corporate love that God showed to Israel did not mean that every Israelite was saved. Neither did His hatred of Esau mean that every Edomite was lost (Job 1:1). At the same time, it does mean something. If God’s sovereign dispensing of grace apart from works extends to entire nations, why would be balk in applying it to individuals?
The unbelieving Jews of Paul’s day drew themselves up to their full height. “We are children of Abraham,” they said. “Oh,” he replied, “Ishmaelites then?” “No,” they retorted. “We are descended from Isaac.” “Oh,” he replied. “Edomites then?” They had the generations of the patriarchs to learn the lesson, but their unbelief had blinded them. Every generation has to learn the same lesson over again, and it can only be learned by the sovereign grace of God. Learning this lesson is the gift of God.
The unbelieving heart always wants to trap God in the fine print. Paul’s point here is that we are not nearly so adept at reading that fine print as we think we are. We say that God promised salvation to the seed of Abraham, and there, we have Him. Paul points out, in the fine print, that Ishmael is the seed of Abraham in a certain sense. Right? We retreat—God promised salvation to the seed of Isaac. Surely He can’t wriggle out of t hat. Paul points to the next paragraph down. What about Esau? Is he part of this salvation? The point is that when God reveals, at the culmination of history, that the seed of Abraham are all those who share the faith of Abraham (Gal. 3:28-29), this is not moving the goalposts. This is not a fourth quarter rule change. God has been doing this from the very beginning. It has always been for the children of the promise, and never for the children of the flesh alone.
Related to this, the fundamental contrast for Paul is always between grace and works, and note that the allure of “works” here is centuries before the Torah was given. Jacob had the position he did by grace, and it was not of works (v. 11). Jacob was given something apart from works long before his great, great grandson Moses, giver of the Torah, was born (Ex. 6:16-20). The Torah wasn’t around but works were. Works always are, whispering in your ear.
We know that God draws straight with crooked lines, but we sometimes rush to assign blame where the Bible does not. While she was pregnant, Rebecca inquired of the Lord and was told by God that the older twin would serve the younger (Gen. 25:23). Contrary to this word, Isaac favored Esau (Gen. 25:28), despite the fact that Jacob was a perfect man (Gen. 25:27). Rebecca believed in the word of the Lord, and she favored her righteous son while Isaac favored the son who gave him the kind of food he liked (Gen. 25:28). Isaac was willing to give the blessing for the sake of food, and Esau was willing to sell his birthright for the sake of food. The deception of Rebecca and Jacob saved Isaac from a spiritual disaster. Isaac tried to reject the word of the Lord, but was graciously prevented.
Now we need to embrace both sides of what Paul is saying. The children of the flesh are of the children of God in one sense (v. 6) but, as he says in v. 8, they are not the children of God in another. We are the children of God by faith (Gal. 3:26). Evangelists of Christ must never be shy about telling Christians that they aren’t, or telling evangelicals that they need to be born again. And pastors of Christ must never tire of telling Christians that they are accepted in the Beloved.
It may not be immediately obvious, but it appears as though the apostle Paul painted himself into a corner. He began to wax a little too eloquent at the end of chapter 8, showing how absolutely nothing can separate the elect of God from the love of Christ. Who can lay a charge against God’s elect? It is God who justifies. But the problem is that Israel was the elect nation of God, and the Jews had spent a great deal of time and energy chasing Paul around the Mediterranean, trying to kill him. What about that? Maybe something can separate us from the love of God? Couldn’t it be whatever it was that separated the unbelieving Jews? No, Paul replies.
“I say the truth in Christ, I lie not, my conscience also bearing me witness in the Holy Ghost, That I have great heaviness and continual sorrow in my heart. For I could wish that myself were accursed from Christ for my brethren, my kinsmen according to the flesh: Who are Israelites; to whom pertaineth the adoption, and the glory, and the covenants, and the giving of the law, and the service of God, and the promises; Whose are the fathers, and of whom as concerning the flesh Christ came, who is over all, God blessed for ever. Amen. Not as though the word of God hath taken none effect. For they are not all Israel, which are of Israel” (Rom. 9:1-6)
Paul begins with a solemn oath. He is telling the truth in Christ, and not lying (v. 1). His conscience is also testifying (in the Holy Spirit) that he is speaking the truth (v. 1). The thing he testifies to is the fact that he is constantly burdened with sorrow (v. 2). And it is a great heaviness and a continual sorrow. He wishes that it were somehow possible for him to be accursed and separated from Christ for the sake of his kinsman, whom he calls his brethren (v. 3). More specifically, he is referencing the Israelites (v. 4). These Israelites have many privileges indeed —they have the adoption (v. 4), the (Shekinah) glory (v. 4), the covenants (v. 4), the giving of the law (v. 4), the service or worship of God (v. 4), the promises (v. 4), the fathers (v. 5), and the fact that they were the people from whom Christ came in the flesh (v. 5). This Christ is over all things, and blessed God forever (v. 5). But don’t draw the wrong conclusion from this. The conclusion that must not be drawn is that the word of God was ineffectual (v. 6). And he gives the solution in brief summary, a solution to be developed at length in the following argument. Not all those who are of Israel are Israel. There is a two-tiered membership in Israel, just as there is a two-tiered membership in the new Israel.
We see here in Paul the heart of a true pastor. It is ironic that Paul is accused of being an enemy of the Torah, because he here shows himself to be animated by the same spirit as animated Moses. “Yet now, if thou wilt forgive their sin–; and if not, blot me, I pray thee, out of thy book which thou hast written” (Ex. 32:32). Paul wanted to be lost if that would save the Israelites, and Moses wanted to be lost along with the Israelites if God would not forgive them. The same spirit is very clearly there.
There are two instructive things here. The first is that Paul knew for a fact that what he wanted was impossible. He has just finished teaching us that it was impossible. Nothing can separate us from the love of God in Christ—not even our desire for those who are outside to come in. And second, it is crucial for us to see that Paul is no fatalist, surrendering limply to the decrees of God. He knows that God is sovereign, and he does not rail against that sovereignty. But he also knows that he loves his kinsmen. Belief in the sovereignty of God does not turn us into blocks of wood or stone.
Earlier in Romans, Paul had outlined the great blessings that the Jews had (Rom. 3:1-2). He is doing it again here, and to much the same effect. . . .
What value is there in being a Jew? Much in every way. All the things that Paul recites here are in the same vein as his earlier rehearsal of this reality. God values the objective gifts that He gives to His people, even if individuals within that people do not believe. These are true gifts, and the world is blessed through them—adoption, glory, covenants, the law, ministry, promises, and the fathers.
We learn from Paul not to set the gifts of God at odds with one another. They occupy different places—why should they be at odds? Objective grace and subjective reception of grace are both from God, and they each depend on one another. Possession of objective grace is not grounds for rejecting the need for subjective grace. Possession of subjective grace is not grounds for rejecting the need for objective grace. Are you saved? Praise and thank God for it, but you still need the church, the sacraments, the ministry, the covenant, the preaching of the Word. Are you a church member, the fifteenth in a line of Christians going way back? Well and good, but you still must be born again.
It is not possible to read the Old Testament without coming to the conclusion that there were Jews and then there were faithful Jews. There were the people who were kept by the covenant, and then there was group within that first group who kept the covenant they were kept by. Paul divides them in this way—he says there is one group that is of Israel, and another group that is Israel. Hearkening back to his earlier statement of this, a true Jew is one who is one inwardly, and circumcision is of the heart, by the Spirit.
Now there are many differences between the administration of God’s grace in the Old Testament and New, and this is not one of them. It is astounding how many interpreters of Scripture can read the plain statements of the apostles in a way that is 180 degrees out from what it actually says. We must be emphasized because if we don’t get it, we are going to be absolutely lost in chapters 9 through 11. We tend to draw contrasts between the old Israel and the new Israel at just the point where the apostles draw parallels. Consider the warnings of 1 Cor. 10: 6, 11-12, and Hebrews 3:7-14ff.
And so we take the lesson. Not all who are of the Church are the Church—even though they are.
Introduction
Under the direction of God, in recent years we have been led to redouble our efforts and emphases on what we call mercy ministry. Whether it is a continuation of our labor in the Ivory Coast, or a new field for mercy work in Myanmar, or locally through Sabbath House, we have been given some wonderful opportunities. So that we don’t squander those opportunities, we need to love and think like Christians together.
The Text
“Put on therefore, as the elect of God, holy and beloved, bowels of mercies, kindness, humbleness of mind, meekness, longsuffering; Forbearing one another, and forgiving one another, if any man have a quarrel against any: even as Christ forgave you, so also do ye. And above all these things put on charity, which is the bond of perfectness” (Col. 3:12-14).
Summary of the Text
In the first part of Col. 3, the apostle tells them that they are to set their hearts and minds on things above, not on things below (vv. 1-4). Doing this necessarily involves mortifying your members which are on the earth, dealing fundamentally with the sins of desire, whether sensual or emotional (5-11). After he has told them to “put on” the new way of being human (v. 10), he gets into specifics. As the elect of God, holy and beloved, they are to put on, in the first places, tender mercies (v. 12). The AV has it “bowels of mercies,” mercy in the gut, mercy where you really live. This is accompanied by kindness, humility of mind, meekness, and longsuffering (v. 12). He then says we are to deal with our quarrels in a forbearing and forgiving way, and we are to forgive each other as Christ forgave us (v. 13). On top of all this, we are to put on love—charity—which is the bond of perfection (v. 14).
Foundations of Mercy
The various words in both Hebrew and Greek that are rendered as mercy can create some confusion for us, but our aggregate understanding of what mercy involves is still sound. One of the things we can see is that the overwhelming number of references to mercy in Scripture have to do with God’s mercy toward us.
As Christians, we begin and end with what God is like. He is the Father of mercies (1 Cor. 1:3). Our mercy is to be in frank imitation of His (Luke 6:36). When Jesus had compassion on the crowd (Matt. 9:36), the word used there indicates that He was moved viscerally; His compassion caused His gut to churn. We would say that He looked at the crowd, and it broke his heart. Now, if He is the new man, the ultimate man, then putting on the new man means that we are becoming like that.
Heart Issues
When we live as a merciful people in the world, we are doing so as the body of Christ. The life of Christ works in us in a particular way.
· Scripture presupposes a certain kind of person as the extension of God’s mercy in the world. Cruelty is one of the central characteristics of the old man, and God’s mercy in the world consists of enabling us, through the gospel, to put on the new man (Col. 3:10). There is no room for mercy within the old man. If we want to have mercy, the old man must die, and the new man must live. As the elect of God, put on tender mercies. We must have the gospel.
· We therefore extend mercy, not on the basis of what the recipient has deserved, but rather on the basis of what we received without deserving it. We have been forgiven (v. 13); therefore we are to forgive. We have received mercy, and there is no better reason for extending it. And there are few better indicators that you have not received it, than a refusal to extend it.
· C.S. Lewis says somewhere that when God tells us to feed the poor, He does not give us cooking lessons. And it is here that we must distinguish between what is unique to special grace, and what we can gather from common grace in the world. You can learn how to cook from an unbeliever, and then go to feed the poor. You cannot learn the meaning of grace, mercy, and love from the nonbelievers. Learning this is crucial because we live in a time when numerous unbelievers claim that they have a firm grasp of the meaning of justice and mercy, and everything in between. Their posing can be revealed as the sham it is by simply bringing up the abortion issue. One of the Hebrew words for mercy is raham, closely related to the word for womb. A womb ought to be the best picture of mercy that our broken world has. But we have introduced stainless steel “choices,” and have made it a place of the most terrible cruelties. Anyone who is fine with that does not have the first inkling of what mercy is.
· Guilt is a terrible motivator in giving. True guilt motivates to one thing only—repentance and confession. False guilt is cultivated by some to enable them to “juice” the giving, but the law of diminishing returns always sets in. Once genuine guilt has done its job, for long term, healthy giving—running a marathon as opposed to a dash or a lunge—gratitude, joy, fullness, and love are absolutely necessary.
So these are our four foundational principles: First, God is merciful. Second, mercy is never earned. Third, those who hate mercy cannot love it. Fourth, perpetual guilt hates mercy.
Learning to Cook
Good intentions are not enough. How many meals have been burned by a cook with a sincere desire to feed the family? Zealous motives won’t make the bottom of the pan any less black. We saw above that holiness of heart is absolutely necessary. But it is not sufficient. Love the poor with your head, and not just your heart. A “good Samaritan” might move a guy after a wreck, and break his neck doing it. The Hippocratic Oath is apropos here— first, do no harm.
Americans in particular have to learn how to stop throwing money around. Secondly, we need to master the distinction between absolute and relative poverty. And third, we need to eradicate every vestige of zero sum thinking. We will be lousy cooks otherwise. But if we have resolved to become good cooks, we have a spacious kitchen before us, and wonderful opportunities.