Set Your Minds...
The Bible treats our mind as a muscle, as something that can be moved, as something that can be set on certain things and not set on others. Paul commands Roman Christians in Romans 12 to be transformed through the “renewing of their minds.” In 1 Chronicles 22 the Israelites are told to “set their minds and hearts to see the Lord your God.” In Colossians 3, Paul commands Christians to set their minds on things that are above. This isn’t often how we approach the task of thinking. We rarely consider thinking to be a task. It’s simply something we well, we “just do.” Which is another way of saying that our minds just kind of latch onto whatever slides in front of them. Our minds are bombarded from Social Media, what pops up on the radio while we’re driving, what comes across the computer screen or television screen. We check our email addressing a question or an advertisement. A notification pops up on our phones turning our attention to twitter or facebook where we find an infuriating article written by an obscure relative in New Hampshire, which was liked by an old friend of ours who has an incredibly cute squirrel living on his tree… We rarely approach the task of thinking intentionally. We rarely set our minds on something. We more likely, trip over our own thoughts all day, like water rushing down a pre-determined path. (Given the intentionality with which advertisers and other media groups approach their work, this path is intentionally shaped by forces that are ubiquitous in our world.) But the Scriptures call us to an entirely different approach to thinking.
This week I ran across this quotation in Psalm 19. Its a famous text, memorized by Sunday school children everywhere:
“Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable in your sign, O Lord, my rock and my redeemer.”
Here the Psalmist is making a request of God - a plea really, that the things he has set his mind on would be acceptable - pleasing to God. What sort of meditations - the setting of the mind on something please God? In Psalm 19 we see the Psalmist looking to two particular things.
First, creation itself, particularly as it reflects and declares the beauty of God. The description of the sun “running its course” day after day after day is particularly poignant. It reminds me of G.K. Chesterton’s description of a child’s exuberance in discovering each day’s sunrise with “Look! He did it again!” But consider the work necessary to see these things, to meditate on these things. We barely notice the sun rising or setting. Our joy in seeing and giving thanks for the glories that surround us are often fleeting, like our attention. Our minds are not used to resting on something, like a sunset, and then meditating on its beauty, its meaning, its glory.
Secondly, the psalmist has described the glories of God’s law - its goodness and usefulness and wisdom. We Colorado dwellers have some practice in considering the mountains or the sunset. But almost none of us have fixed our attention on the words of God, to meditate on them, to consider their beauty and usefulness and wisdom. But this is what the Psalmist demonstrates for us - minds set on something remarkably complex and nuanced, historic and marvelous.
The Bible describes the life of the mind as a life of deep intentionality, of meditation. We are to hold something in our minds and consider the question again and again, “What must God be like?” The Psalmist’s meditations call us into a life of intentional consideration and seeing and then drawing all this thinking up into a consideration of the grandeur and goodness of a God who made and sustains all things by the word of His mouth.
As we continue our examination of the Ten Commandments this Sunday our goal is not only to understand the sort of life God is calling all of us into, but also to consider the character of God Himself as revealed in His law…. What must God be like?
A War of Word, Witness and Wine
Peter Leithart has written a remarkable commentary on the book of Revelation. He describes the book of Revelation as being fundamentally about the victory of the Church’s witness in the midst of the world. In describing the war imagery of Revelation 19, he says this:
The logic of the narrative seems to be this: The horns attack the Lamb and his followers; God turns that attack into his victory over the harlot city; and then the Lamb goes on the offensive against the same enemies, the “nations” that he smites (19:15). If chapter 19 is a battle scene, it is not a military operation, or, better, it is the most intensely contested, the most important and decisive form of military operation—a spiritual war, carried on by Word, Witness, Wine. Whatever fulfillment we find, it will not look like the latest news bulletin from Syria or Afghanistan. It will look like a sermon delivered at a table spread with bread and wine. It will look like a humble Christian woman refusing to renounce Jesus even when threatened with beheading. It will be a battle of Har-Magedon, a battle of the mountain of festival assembly.
Leithart, P. J. (2018). Revelation. (M. Allen & S. R. Swain, Eds.) (Vol. 2, p. 287). London; Oxford; New York; New Delhi; Sydney: Bloomsbury; Bloomsbury T&T Clark: An Imprint of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc.
His point: There is a war being waged on the nations in chapter 19, but it is not a typical military operation. Rather, it is a battle fought and won as the word of Jesus is faithfully proclaimed, bread and wine are faithfully eaten, and as God’s people faithfully worship in the midst of the nations. This is the grand strategy of our Lord for the renewal of all things - including our city - a people joyfully committed to faithfully witnessing to the Word about Jesus in the midst of our city, in our homes around tables with wine and food, and gathered together in the midst of our liturgies. In these gloriously mundane things, Jesus rules the nations.
Considering Jesus
I remember my first trip to Colorado. I was 11. I had an old walkman and 1 cassette tape. I had listened to that tape countless times between the northern oil fields of Northwest Texas and the drive over Raton pass outside of Trinidad. And suddenly there were mountains. Real mountains. I don’t remember much about what we did during our two weeks visiting friends in Denver, but I do remember craning my neck to see the tops of the mountains. I remember standing on Mount Evans not being able to breathe. I remember marveling at the size - feeling my smallness and a sense of awe that I’d never felt before.
Perhaps the fundamental downside to raising a family in Colorado is how mundane the mountains can become to your kids. They’ve seen them almost every day of their self-conscious lives. When we drive up to Summit County or down to Ouray, I find myself trying to wrestle my kids’ attention from their books or games to stop and, well, just look! Feel Awe! Its a silly sense of urgency that we’re going to miss the grandeur, the glory, the majesty because we’re stuck on the page or the screen sitting in our laps.
Christianity is remarkably practical. It speaks to marriage, children, work, play and rest. It encompasses all of life and reorders every part of our loves and desires. It really does deal with the “page and the screen in our laps.” But at its absolute center is something that feels as impractical as it gets. We want help navigating the noise and business of life. We want practical steps. We want a life coach. The stuff of life feels so important, and then Christianity calls us to stop, to look elsewhere and to consider, to marvel at, Jesus.
Again and again, without rushing to practical application or how to’s, the Scriptures just seem to stop and invite us to see Him, to marvel at Him. It warns us not to miss the glory, the grandeur, the beauty. It commends us the glory of feeling small and inconsequential again when so much of our life feels disproportionately important.
I felt that invitation again this morning reading through Revelation 19 in preparation to preach this Sunday. Verses 11-16 are meant to communicate some marvelous and frightening truths to us concerning the church’s identity and mission, but I think first they are an invitation to, well, marvel.
To behold, and tremble and feel again how gloriously small we are and how terrifyingly strong and holy and good He is. So put your pages down, turn away from your screen (maybe this screen) and consider again the terror and wonder and beauty of who Jesus actually is:
Then I saw heaven opened, and behold, a white horse! The one sitting on it is called Faithful and True, and in righteousness he judges and makes war. His eyes are like a flame of fire, and on his head are many diadems, and he has a name written that no one knows but himself. He is clothed in a robe dipped in blood, and the name by which he is called is The Word of God. And the armies of heaven, arrayed in fine linen, white and pure, were following him on white horses. From his mouth comes a sharp sword with which to strike down the nations, and he will rule them with a rod of iron. He will tread the winepress of the fury of the wrath of God the Almighty. On his robe and on his thigh he has a name written, King of kings and Lord of lords.
Revelation 19:11-16
Church as Toddler. Church as Family...
One of the more fundamental confusions about the local church that plagues us these days is the unexamined belief that the church should function something like a good restaurant. It exists primarily as the purveyor of religious goods and services and you choose one that has the stuff you like. Good service, nice French fries, delicious soufflé. This view, if unchecked, will keep any church from embodying the kind of beauty and goodness and truth that we long to see. To make matters harder, Trinity is a church plant - which means that we are a big ball of potential. Lots of raw material, everything still taking shape. We're like a little toddler, bumping into the walls, sticking our fingers in the electrical sockets, doing all the things toddlers do. So, if you come to Trinity in the way that many people come to church in the U.S., well, you'll be sorely disappointed much of the time.
The church is described a number of different ways in the New Testament - but one of the bible's favorites is to describe the church as a family. What we do on Sunday is gather for a Sunday meal. We care for one another. We sing the praises of our good Father. He tells us, through the Bible and the liturgy what He's like, what He wants for us, and most of all, what He's done for us in Jesus. Now, admittedly, family meals can be a little awkward, and we want our friends and even strangers who don't know our Father to come and sit with us and eat with us. But this is precisely how God forms us increasingly into the image of Jesus - declaring us to be and then making us increasingly to look like sons and daughters.
One of the implications of this biblical understanding of the church is that most of the things we long to see in our life together at Trinity require all of us to pursue together. We want family-like community with one another. That isn't something that can be programmed. There isn't a "switch" we can throw for that in a church plant. There are simply people committed to pursuing conversations and time and honesty with one another. New people who wander through our doors for our gathering won't feel welcomed by an institution. They need to actually be welcomed by people who are already gathered into this new community.
As we approach the fall, we are trying to facilitate as many opportunities as we can for our church family to draw closer to one another and to invite neighbors and friends and well, even strangers to come and be with us - in worship on a Sunday, in homes during the week for dinner and laughter and prayer, at an event around town. But in the end, as we long to see the church grow up into greater and greater maturity, all of us have to recognize the church as a family - where everyone is at work - welcoming, inviting, singing, praying, approaching together.
