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What is permissible for a Christian?

This past Sunday’s sermon was on 1 Corinthians 6:12-20, which speaks of fleeing sexual immorality.

It starts off by saying “All things are lawful for me,” referring to a philosophical idea that separated the body from the soul. The concept was that the flesh was corrupt (and presumably corrupted the soul as well, I suppose?) and therefore, the soul could be saved but the flesh could not.

The implication here is that the flesh could do what it wanted, as it was destined to be destroyed forever anyway, and the soul was kept inviolate apart.

Therefore, the flesh could indulge in all kinds of acts without affecting the relationship of believer with God.

This is in relation to food; the Faithlife Study Bible’s comment on 1Cor 6:13 says that the Corinthians

“reasoned that since the body could digest food apart from any moral instruction, it could also engage in sexual activity apart from moral instruction.”

Part of me marvels at the intuitive leap here, and I also am a little stunned that this is where this reasoning led them.

Paul writes that the purpose of the body is what defines what is right, by saying:

13… The body is not meant for sexual immorality, but for the Lord, and the Lord for the body. 14 And God raised the Lord and will also raise us up by His power. 15 Do you not know that your bodies are members of Christ? Shall I then take the members of Christ and make them members of a prostitute? (1Cor 6:13-15, ESV)

The rest of chapter 6 addresses the unity of the body and soul, and also says to flee immorality – that we cannot fight it ourselves, but should run from it rather than engage it.

And at last we segue into something God laid on my heart with this message.

I wrote a post in December 2011 called “Where should we be willing to go?,” inspired (or incited) by some people who were busily and happily judging people who were willing to associate with sinners.

The most important paragraph in that post (to me) is this one:

So should I avoid people or situations because I think that the people there aren’t always edifying Christ? No. I should not. I should examine the circumstances and try to act in such a way that those who do not know Christ can see His effect on me, and maybe God through that can call them to Himself.

The core statement was that we should be willing to go anywhere to which we are called to go, regardless of where that would be; I used a strip club as an example. I wouldn’t be able to go to such places myself in such a way that people saw Christ in me, I don’t think, but I can conceive that perhaps (somehow, someway, with God’s merciful and powerful help) someone could.

I’m not suggesting that it’s likely, nor am I suggesting that one should try just to see if God will act (“You shall not tempt the Lord your God,” from Deuteronomy 6:16, ESV, and quoted by Jesus when He was tested by Satan.) But I can conceive that it’s possible.

Oddly enough, I even used 1 Corinthians 8 to bolster my thought line. It also suggests that I avoid things that I could do that would potentially discourage a fellow believer, but in a way that backs up the original assertion, in that:

I should avoid things that might be permissible for me, when those things might harm anothers’ faith. (Summary mine, of course.)

But is this correct? I was referring to where we should be willing to be present more than what we should allow ourselves to do, but the analogy holds across both concepts.

Doesn’t the injunction against immorality (sexual immorality, specifically) in 1Cor 6 also speak to the impulse that says that I can go anywhere in the Will of God?

Perhaps not. But my feeling is that God wouldn’t will that I go somewhere such that sexual immorality (or any other kind of immorality) was my lot, and if it’s something discouraging to another believer, then perhaps I need to make sure I’m framing it properly (if it is, indeed, within the Will of God) or that I need to, like, stop doing it (because it’s likely that I’m telling myself it’s in the Will of God and I’m lying to myself.)

Witness

This weekend, our Sunday school class was going through Luke 3:1-21, which addresses the ministry of John the Baptist, or John the Immerser, who preached a ministry of repentance and action.

A question came up about why John, specifically. Why did the Messiah need an Elijah? Was it just to fulfill prophecy that there would be a precursor for the King?

Well, I don’t know if there’s an absolute answer, but I can certainly see analogs.

Messengers are used by God to reflect His glory in a way that we can understand and tolerate.

God is beyond us. (His ways are not our ways, Isaiah 55:8) If He were to show us Himself, we would not survive; see Exodus 33 for a simplistic example of this.

So God uses analogs, stories, parables, giving us examples that we can understand that reflect aspects of His Will for us. We understand the story of Jonah; we also understand the fall of Nineveh. These are analogs for Christ’s death for us, and the mercy of God upon sinners, and the punishment of continued sin.

The messengers prepare the way, and prepare our hearts for what is to come. “Be ready,” they say.

Further, they’re used as actors in God’s Will.

When you look at Samuel, you see God’s prophet – used to anoint two kings of Israel, Saul and David.

Nathan was used to tell David of his sin.

Elijah was used to proclaim Ahab’s return and his doom.

Jonah was used to rescue Nineveh from the precipice into which the city eventually leaped.

A king cannot anoint himself; he is a warlord in that case. A prophet is used to say “God has given us this man as our proper and blessed king.” Without that anointing by a true man of God, this king is a king in name only.

So why was John important to the life and ministry of Jesus?

He was the one who cried to make hearts ready for the coming of the King.

He was the one who proclaimed Jesus as Messiah.

His was the position of Elijah: going before the King, proclaiming and blessing Him.

John was a witness, one who testifies for Christ.

So are we to be: we are to proclaim the King, making hearts ready for Him. We cannot do the work the King does; we do not rule. Yet we, too, are called to be heralds, those who proclaim the coming of Christ.


Reference:

The greatest commandment

I was thinking about what Jesus said the greatest commandment was: to love the Lord your God with everything you are… and what does that mean?

Here’s the text from which it’s drawn:

34 But when the Pharisees heard that he had silenced the Sadducees, they gathered together. 35 And one of them, a lawyer, asked him a question to test him. 36 “Teacher, which is the great commandment in the Law?” 37 And he said to him, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. 38 This is the great and first commandment. 39 And a second is like it: You shall love your neighbor as yourself.

(Matthew 22:34-39 ESV)

Here, Jesus is referring to Deuteronomy 6:5:

5 You shall love the LORD your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your might.

(Deuteronomy 6:5 ESV)

Now, this is simple text, right? It has some axiomatic concepts that are pretty obvious:

  1. The Lord exists. (Otherwise, what is to be loved?)
  2. You exist. (Otherwise, what is performing the act of dedication?)
  3. The Lord is supreme. (Otherwise, this is not a “command,” but a… simple aphorism, I suppose.)
  4. You are to commit yourself wholly to the Lord.

There are some others that are also implied, but in my experience they’re rarely discussed.

The commandment is one of total dedication to the Lord. There’s nothing wrong with that; many, however, take it to mean that you subvert everything you are, in order to experience that dedication.

Yet… is that what God wants from us? To become mindless shells?

The sages – and the second greatest commandment – say “no.”

We are to “love our neighbors as we love ourselves,” paraphrased. The key phrase, the empowering phrase, is “… as we love ourselves.” How can we love others if we subjugate who we are? How can we love God if we are not as He made us to be?

To be a certain way – regardless of what that “way” might be – we must first be.

We are to love; we are to respect ourselves such that we can respect others; we must own who we are, or else the offering to God (of our souls, minds, and strength, in the “greatest commandment”) is worthless.

We are the contradiction.

Can God do anything He wants? Can He endure evil? If He can, why does He not do so, for the love of those He calls children?

I was thinking along these lines because of the school shooting in Connecticut. I found myself horrified; why, השם, do You allow this?

And then, because I love tautologies, I ended up thinking about some old questions:

  • How many angels can dance on the head of a pin? (And which dance would it be? If it’s “Gangnam Style,” someone shoot me now.)
  • Can God create a boulder so large that He could not lift it?

I don’t know of an absolute answer to those that would satisfy me.

The boulder question is easier; God cannot contradict His nature, because otherwise it’s not His nature.

You cannot decide to not be yourself; even if you tried, that would be you, yourself, deciding to alter who you are such that the “new you” was still you, and the attempt would have been part of your nature in the first place.

A similar logic applies to “Do I exist?” — the question implies the answer. If you do not exist, you are unable to ask the question. Therefore, since you are able to ask the question, you exist, and the question isn’t worth answering.

So God would not create a boulder so large that He could not lift it, because He would exceed the creation; yet, if He could exceed His creation, He could do so. They are all possibilities, restricted only by God’s identity and intent.

I don’t know how many angels could dance on the head of a pin; I don’t think numbers in our frame of reference would apply. Therefore, my only answers would be “infinity,” or “as many as God desires.”

From a mechanical standpoint, of course, you’d factor in the actual pin’s surface area, the size of the angels in question, and the area required for them to dance; that’s just math, and while it’s funny to think about it that way, it’s not really relevant.

And now we come to the horror in Connecticut. Here’s a rough transcription of my questions to God:

  1. My God, what have You done? (“What Have You Done” is a song from an amateur musician I found that sums this up pretty well.)
  2. How could You allow this?
  3. How could You ever allow this?
  4. You love us, enough to die on the cross for us. How can this encompass this horror? (And yet it has to. All have sinned (Romans 3:23); whoever believes in Him shall be with Him in glory (John 3:16). I could not do this. I am not God, thank God.)
  5. If You loved us enough to die for us, how then can You endure our presence, in that we defy You and desecrate Your Name?

And there we have the primary question for me.

How can a holy and just God, even factoring in His grace and mercy, endure us? How can a merciful and loving God not endure those of us whom He calls children?

Of course, He died for us, so that His nature covers ours; that’s an easy problem to analyze. However, the thought of the contradiction still lingers.

How can God endure what He sees here on earth?

I don’t have a simple answer. However, I think that the problem is in how we see Him, not in Him.

We continually apply our mathematics to Him; it doesn’t apply. For God, if 2+2=5, that is the truth as He wills it.

We continually apply our sense of justice as equals to Him. We do not kill (I hope!), because those whom we might kill are our equals before God and before us; God has no equal. His sense of justice is absolute, and we cannot properly understand it.

We apply our limits to Him, and they don’t apply.

Consider: we scream against Him when someone we love is hurt. “How could you do this? This person did nothing to You or anyone else!”

Yet that’s not true, is it? Remember, all have sinned. We are all guilty. Even if our sin’s guilt is removed from us, we still bear the consequences of that sin.

All of us have the potential for horror; God knows everything we are and will be. His actions are based on criteria we cannot know; we cannot judge Him as equals.

Sure, I understand people applying their own perspectives to God; that’s how we’re wired. I’m sure He understands, on some levels.

Yet that doesn’t make it proper. We cannot judge God.

Shalom.