Redeeming Buts

 

Hey, Cobblestone,

     I think you’ll agree: there are some buts around here in serious need of redemption.

     The second-most important thing you need to do with this week’s letter is NOT add a “t” to “but” – we’re discussing the conjunction here, which does just fine with only one. The first-most important thing you need to do with this letter is remember who you are in Christ, which is the one thing that qualifies you as a legitimate but-redeemer.

     In our Bible reading plan, today marks the end of Daniel. Maybe you’re reeling from the wild visions and dreams. Me too. If it helps at all, try to imagine the angel Gabriel saying, as he said to Daniel, “Understand, O man, that the vision is for the time of the end” (Daniel 8:17). Meanwhile, there are plenty of buts to consider. Pull out your Three R’s grid. Sifting buts through it, where do they land – Receive as all good, Reject as all bad, or Redeem good ones from whatever not-good purposes they may have been put to?

     We all know: some buts are good and others not so much. “I tripped on the rug, but caught myself before plunging out the window” – good but. Conversely, “I towed the boat all the way home from the lake, but forgot to put a trailer under it” – bad but… really bad. Right away, we see Receive is not an option. Now let’s imagine our language without buts: “I thought the plane would crash, and sure enough, it did!” Buts save lives, and we ought not to Reject them entirely.

     As Daniel and his fellow exiled Jews lived out the history we just read in Scripture, the buts could’ve gone either way. Their days went just like ours – sunrise/sunset/repeat on a 24-hour basis – and they encountered them a moment at a time, same as we do. Since it is the nature of buts to get ugly without redemptive effort, Daniel and his friends had to maintain a predisposition toward the good. Here’s what might have happened if they hadn’t:

     Daniel takes credit for interpreting Nebuchadnezzar’s dream, gets it wrong, and is executed along with the Babylonian magicians. Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego bow down to the golden image, and Nebuchadnezzar doesn’t get to see the fourth man in the furnace, the Ruler of the everlasting kingdom to come. Daniel stops praying to the God of his fathers, according to Darius’s decree, and skips offering up those great pleas for mercy on behalf of his people. Those, Church, are some ugly buts.

     Here’s another batch: “I’ve heard what God has said I should do with my relationships, but it’s just too much work.” “I’ve heard what God has said I should do with my money, but I don’t have the faith to pull it off.” “I’ve heard what God has said I should do with my body, but I want alternatives.” “I know God is worthy of all worship, but there are so many other enticements to my praise and affection.” I hope you can see the potential for redemptive work.

     When Daniel and his friends were ripped out of Jerusalem, they were taken away from everything they had ever known. They were from the nobility of the Jews (Daniel 1:3), and were youths without blemish, of good appearance and skillful in all wisdom, endowed with knowledge, understanding learning, and competent to stand in the king's palace (verse 4). Thankfully, their deepest attachment wasn’t to their status, appearance, or skill. Their deepest attachment was to the Lord himself. The Babylonian culture offered much of what they had known in Jerusalem, and on a far grander scale: they were noted for their appearance and advanced according to their knowledge and skill. But advancement in Babylon came as a trade: they would have to turn away from the Lord to embrace the treasures of the surrounding culture. No deal: when their bond to the one true God was tested, it held firm.

     Clinging to our identity in Christ, here’s what a redeemed but looks like: “The world says I have a right to be angry with my brothers and sisters, but Jesus says that’s a dangerous place to be, and he offers a path to peace” (see Matthew 5:22; 18:15). “The world says I have a right to be selfish, but Jesus says I can be generous without being fearful” (see Matthew 6:3). “The world says I can do anything I want with my body, but Scripture says my body is a temple of the Holy Spirit, and to glorify God in it” (see 1Corinthians 6:19, 20). “The world around me offers any number of enticements to my worship, but Jesus says, ‘Seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness’ (Matthew 6:33), and that’s what I’m going to do.” Redemption wins.

     I was talking with an old friend the other day, and the topic of our conversation turned to current events, prompting him to ask, “What is this world coming to?” My response: “I’m not of this world, buddy, so I guess it’s not at the top of my thinking list.” As I noted in last week’s letter, Daniel and his friends were able to hold onto their identity as people of God, people of his presence, chosen as his inheritance… who happened to be exiled in Babylon. And even there, they were able to do redemptive work. So also we, who are fellow citizens with the saints and members of the household of God (Ephesians 2:19), can turn the conjunctions away from ugliness – so long as we hold to our true citizenship, so long as we remember who we are.

     Maybe we’ll talk more about Daniel’s visions when we get to the Revelation at the end of next year. For now, let’s simply consider the last three buts to be found in the Bible book that bears his name. Daniel didn’t understand what he was hearing from the man clothed in linen (12:5), and asked, “O my lord, what shall be the outcome of these things?” (verse 8). And the man in linen said…

    “Go your way, Daniel, for the words are shut up and sealed until the time of the end. Many shall purify themselves and make themselves white and be refined, but the wicked shall act wickedly. And none of the wicked shall understand, but those who are wise shall understand… But go your way till the end. And you shall rest and shall stand in your allotted place at the end of the days” (verses 9-10, 13).  

    But those who are wise shall understand – redeeming buts now, on the way to a time when all buts are thoroughly redeemed. How’s that for a very appealing vision?

Grace and Peace (and hindsight for the days ahead),

 

John

Convinced

 

Hey, Cobblestone,

 

    As it applies to your identity, “Christian” is not an adjective. I just wanted to get that straight from the beginning.

     Back to middle school Language Arts class: an adjective describes a characteristic of the thing named; it is not the thing itself. “A red ________” – a red what? A red bell pepper or a red Corvette? It’s important to know because you don’t want a Corvette to show up in the tossed salad. Do you see why nouns have to be given priority? And did you notice that “adjective,” as it’s used in this paragraph, is a noun itself? Without the noun there wouldn’t even be a chance of having words to describe other nouns. 

     The good writing coaches will recommend you find a better noun, not a bunch of adjectives to paste onto a weak one. “Rock,” you may say or write, while “granite” does ten times the describing with the same word count. You convey color and texture, maybe even the idea of costliness: granite is often used for monuments; sandstone not so much. The right noun is unbeatable.

     As it applies to your identity, “Christian” is the noun, the word we have for what IS, the word that puts language to reality. When “Christian” gets demoted to adjective, reality slips away.

    “I’m a Christian student”; “I’m a Christian mom”; “I’m a Christian firefighter.” All could be true, but the plainer reality is you’re a Christian who is a student, mom, and/or firefighter. It would be terribly awkward to say, but reality would be even better served if you said, “I’m a firefighting Christian,” or “I’m a mom-ing Christian.” I hope you can see the difference: you’re not who you are because of what you do; you do what you do because of who you are.

     Last week I wrote to encourage us all to brush up on our testimonies – those stories of how Jesus got a-hold of us – primarily to glorify God, but also to help convince others that they, too, can have new life in Christ. This week I’m writing to the hardest of all to convince: you and me.

     Salvation is forever, a fact inscribed in heaven. Jesus came “to seek and to save the lost” (Luke 19:10), and he doesn’t un-save us. With salvation comes a brand new identity: child of God (John 1:12), the righteousness of God (2Corinthians 5:21), citizen of heaven (Philippians 3:20), friend of Christ (John 15:15), saint (Ephesians 1:1). In short, you are in Christ (Romans 6:11, plus about 47 other New Testament places). You’d think, with such a preponderance of evidence, we’d have a firm handle on our identity in Christ. For the few who do, I’m glad. For all the rest of us… well, read on.

     We’ve started the Bible book of Daniel in our reading plan, and with Ezekiel and Jeremiah already under our belts, the Babylonian captivity of the Jews is becoming familiar. Those who were carried off from Jerusalem could be known by a couple terms: Jewish exiles or exiled Jews. The same, you say? Not at all. There’s a night-and-day difference, determined by which word gets to be the adjective and which one gets to be the noun. There were exiles who happened to be Jews, and they acted just as anyone else who is marginalized and oppressed. Conversely, Daniel and his young companions, as exiled Jews, acted as people chosen by God for his own inheritance – who happened to be exiled in Babylon. By understanding their identity, Daniel was able to refuse the king’s unclean food and wine (Chapter 1) and interpret the king’s dream (Chapter 2), and his friends were able to withstand the king’s fury (Chapter 3). 

     The concept of identity is in desperate need of redemption in our time. Adjectives have been given far too much authority. The common practice is to take a weak, generic noun and hang adjectives on it like ornaments, with a handful of adverbs to modify the weaker adjectives. Shortly, nobody remembers the noun, including the one whose identity was being described. I’ve seen Christians fall for it; I’ve fallen for it myself. For the Christian, redeeming the concept of identity begins with setting “Christian” in its proper place as a noun – the language for the thing itself.

     The toughest audience for your testimony sits in the space between your ears. Same for me. For some reason, identity in Christ is hard to keep a grip on – as if it’s too good to be true. But God, when he saved us, crafted an identity for each and all of us that is Christ-like right now, and the only way in which the identity changes is that it becomes ever more conformed to the image of his Son (Romans 8:29). What might you do, what peace and confidence might you know, if that truth lived steadily in the space between your ears, silencing every heckler?

     Get a grip on your identity – the real and lasting one – and hold fast. Talk to the Father about it; he’s the one who crafted it. Talk to Jesus about it; he’s the one whose image you’re being conformed to. And one last thing: at some point, if it’s at all possible, go and thank your middle school Language Arts teacher.

 

 

Grace and Peace (to convince you of your own testimony),

 

John