THE TEXT:
Isaiah 14:12-32
We must learn how to stop doing is the bad habit of dividing the world up into separate compartments. Every aspect of our being—emotional, spiritual, psychological, mental—is occurring in the same created order. All truths that we affirm, whether biological, or theological, or anthropological, are true or false in the same created order. Christ remains your high priest, which means that He still has His resurrected and glorified body. That body is still within this created order, but because He has ascended, He is no longer under the sun. His authority is greater than that.
One of the great problems that secularists have is that they pay no attention to the things they are saying. But this problem is matched and compounded by the fact that we Christians too often pay cursory attention to the implications of the truths we confess. Remember that word implication.
“The Lord said unto my Lord, sit thou at my right hand, until I make thine enemies thy footstool” (Psalm 110:1).
The introduction to this psalm is quoted numerous times in the New Testament, and in ways that are not in any way ambiguous about what it means. In the gospel accounts, Jesus stumps His adversaries with the question of how David, ancestor of the Messiah, could possibly call his descendant Lord (Matt. 22:44; Mark 12:36; Luke 20:42-43). This verse is quoted to show the greatness of the Christ over all the angels (Heb. 1:13). And the whole glorious consummation is summed up in Acts 2:32-36. God raised Jesus up, with eyewitnesses (v. 32). He was exalted to the right hand of the Father, where He received the Holy Spirit, which He then poured out (v. 33). David didn’t ascend into the heavens, but he did prophesy it—with our text (v. 34). Christ will remain there until His enemies are made His footstool (v. 35). Let all Israel know that this “same Jesus,” the crucified one, has been made both Lord and Christ (v. 36).
One of our central duties in this wicked generation is to set out various doctrines which we confess, lining them up on the table before us. Having done so, we need to stare straight at the central implication.
Jesus of Nazareth is fully God and fully man, a fact we celebrate at Christmas. The hypostatic union of God and man was miraculously accomplished in Him. In this incarnate body, He lived a perfect and sinless life, which He then offered up on the cross as a perfect sacrifice. God showed that the sacrifice was accepted when He raised Jesus from the dead, a fact we celebrate at Easter. Christ ascended into the heavenly places, and in doing this, He did not leave the Incarnation behind—He is still our high priest. “Who is he that condemneth? It is Christ that died, yea rather, that is risen again, who is even at the right hand of God, who also maketh intercession for us” (Rom. 8:34). He was there given universal dominion (Dan. 7:13-14). A human being, our elder brother, is seated at the right hand of the Father, and will remain there until all His enemies are subdued through the gospel, a fact we celebrate on Ascension Sunday. And last, He poured out His Spirit on Pentecost, which is what enables us to celebrate anything about any of this at all (Acts 2:3-4).
Now I have mentioned that word implications a few times. What are the implications of this? The implication is that the only principle of unity available to man is a unity that is outside the world. This, and only this, is the death knell of anarchy, for tyranny, and for anarcho-tyranny.
Just as the secular mind oscillates between rationalism and irrationalism, so they also veer back and forth between radical individualism and total statism. Not only so, but each bounce on their teeter-totter gives energy to the opposite reaction. When they discover that they cannot hold everything together, they give up and it all disintegrates. But then they discover that they cannot live in such a chaotic world, and so they begin to flail, looking for a principle of unity that is immanent, under the sun, under the control of man. It might be the church, it might be the state, it might be the tribe, it might be some ideology. Whatever they settle on, it is down here, within their reach.
Tyrants want the locus of unity to be within the world, where they can control it. This pipe dream—seen clearly at Babel—was forever destroyed by the Ascension of the Lord Jesus into Heaven. What do we confess? We confess that there is only one possible locus of true unity, and that arche of unity is outside the world, at the right hand of the Father.
“That in the dispensation of the fulness of times he might gather together in one all things in Christ, both which are in heaven, and which are on earth; even in him” (Ephesians 1:10).
He ascended into Heaven, and the yearning lusts of all despots (libido dominandi) were thwarted in principle.
The Lord told us plainly that His kingdom is not from this world (John 18:36). If it were, we would be trying to seize power the same way that the worldlings do. But the fact that the Lord’s authority is not from here does not mean that it is somehow impotent here. No, our weapons are mighty for pulling down strongholds (2 Cor. 10:3-5).
The fact that they are defeated does not mean that the secularist lords cannot still be conceited in their humiliation. They still sneer at us. How many regiments do we have? How many nukes? How many flotillas can we assemble?
Our weapons look paltry to them, but that does not distress us at all. It should not even slow us down. The Word of God is not bound (2 Tim. 2:9), and goes forth conquering and to conquer (Rev. 6:2). What do we have? We have word and water, bread and wine, and that is more than sufficient.
What do we have? Christ died and rose, and He reigns from Heaven. Just as they taunted Him to come down from the cross, in the same way they taunt Him to come down from Heaven in order to prove He rose from the dead. But the place where His proofs were ultimately received was the throne room of the Ancient of Days, and that proof was declared sufficient. The risen Christ is Lord.
In our message last Lord’s Day, we defined what we mean by the word discipline. Our subject this week is “discipline as genuine love,” and so it is important to begin with a definition of love. What does it mean to love God, and what does it mean to love our neighbor? These are the two great commandments, and so we should know what they summon us to.
To love someone is to treat someone lawfully from the heart. To love God is to do what He calls us to do, and to do it from the heart. Nowhere does Scripture identify love with our emotional “feels,” that approach being an error that is currently destroying millions. At the same time, we are called to love God with all our heart, soul, mind, and strength (Dt. 6:4-9; Mark 12:30), and this would certainly include our “feels.” But this simply means that our emotions must be obedient, along with the rest of our being. But obeying commands is not the same thing as issuing commands.
So loving God means doing what He says to do, from the heart. “If ye love me, keep my commandments” (John 14:15). And His commandments include bringing up our children in the nurture and admonition, applying physical correction when necessary, and providing loving instruction all the time.
“He that spareth his rod hateth his son: But he that loveth him chasteneth him betimes” (Proverbs 13:24).
“And ye have forgotten the exhortation which speaketh unto you as unto children, my son, despise not thou the chastening of the Lord, nor faint when thou art rebuked of him: For whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth, and scourgeth every son whom he receiveth. If ye endure chastening, God dealeth with you as with sons; for what son is he whom the father chasteneth not? But if ye be without chastisement, whereof all are partakers, then are ye bastards, and not sons. Furthermore we have had fathers of our flesh which corrected us, and we gave them reverence: shall we not much rather be in subjection unto the Father of spirits, and live? 10 For they verily for a few days chastened us after their own pleasure; but he for our profit, that we might be partakers of his holiness” (Hebrews 12:5–10).
Words like love and hate are to be defined by the Scriptures, and not by our emotional frame of mind. There are sentiments that we would call kind, or loving, or tender, but which are toxic by the standard of the Word. A man might mix up a batch of cyanide or arsenic, and it does not much matter how much emotional sugar was put into the recipe.
And so Proverbs defines hatred of a son—a form of disowning a son—as withholding the rod. But when we think of all the people who withhold this form of correction, what is it that motivates them? Is it what we normally call “hate?” No, it would be what we would normally call sentimentalism or, in its true colors, hatred.
The Hebrews passage teaches us something similar. One of our assurances of our adoption as sons is the fact that God chastens us. He doesn’t spank the neighbor kids, but rather His own (vv. 5-6). We should endure chastening, knowing it to be a mark of sonship (v. 7). If you don’t receive this kind of correction, then that is a sign that you are a bastard, and no legitimate heir (v. 8). If we revere our earthly fathers who do this, then how much more should we do the same with the Father of spirits (v. 9)? Our earthly fathers did it with temporal goals in view, but God has our holiness in mind (v. 10). Notice that while the goals may differ, the process of discipline is the same.
The illustration here is aimed at the relationship between parents and children, but it actually applies to all your relationships. But settle it in your minds first with regard to your marriage, and the children God has blessed you with.
You build your household the same way you build a house. Go down into your basement and look at the concrete walls. They are hard, cold, straight, and gray. There is no warmth to them at all. And because there is no warmth there, it is possible to have warmth elsewhere. Now go upstairs and look at the living room—pillows on the sofa, curtains, soft carpet, pictures on the wall. The surroundings there are truly pleasant. But the only reason anything is pleasant is because the concrete is where the concrete is, and the living room stuff is in the living room. Roll up the carpet, gather the cushions, throw on the sofa, and try to erect a stud wall on it. It will be the wobbliest thing in the world, and this explains why your family interactions are so full of so much unedifying drama.
What was the greatest act of love ever rendered by a human being? The answer to that question has to be the love that Christ showed for us when He laid down His life as a sacrifice for sin—doing this when we were still in rebellion, still in our sins. “But God commendeth his love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us” (Romans 5:8). This was the greatest act of love ever, and it is the template for measuring every other act of love (Eph. 5:25) .
And yet, Christ didn’t feel like it. “Then saith he unto them, My soul is exceeding sorrowful, even unto death: tarry ye here, and watch with me” (Matthew 26:38). And on the basis of what He felt, He prayed earnestly in the Garden of Gethsemene—asking His Father three times if the cup could pass from Him. “And he left them, and went away again, and prayed the third time, saying the same words” (Matthew 26:44). And so He obeyed the will of His Father, from the heart, and He did so for the joy that was set before Him. The joy was not behind Him, pushing, but there before Him, beckoning—the way a field of grain beckons a farmer doing the hard work of plowing the field months before (Heb. 12:11).
“Behold, what manner of love the Father hath bestowed upon us, that we should be called the sons of God: therefore the world knoweth us not, because it knew him not” (1 John 3:1).
The love we experience in our salvation is a triune love. God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son (John 3:16). Everything the Son sees the Father doing, He also does, love included. “As the Father hath loved me, so have I loved you: continue ye in my love” (John 15:9). And the love of God is shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy Spirit (Rom. 5:5). The persons of the Godhead always work together in harmonious unity.
So there was love in the assignment of the mission, there was love in the execution of the mission, and love in the application of the mission. It began with love, and it ends with love, but there was agony in the middle. Our Savior was no sentimentalist, and neither should you be.