Riptides and Rescue

Jesus says in John 5:30, “I can do nothing on my own.” A few verses down he tells us that the Father has given him works to accomplish (5:36).  What’re the implications of this for our lives?  In Ephesians 2:10, Paul writes “we are his [God’s] workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them.”

Meditating on these passages makes me think that I (and maybe others) end up living life swimming in the wrong direction and in a situation that is hopeless without rescue.  I imagine that many of us have been to the beach for family vacations.  Growing up, beaches along the Florida panhandle would often put out colored flags to indicate the relative danger for riptides and undertows on any given day.  Red flags meant “Stay out of the water!”  Unfortunately, life in the flesh is constantly a red flag with riptides and undertows peppering the shores of life.  When we live in the flesh, we are constantly battling a tide of sin and idolatrous desires that carry us swiftly away from the safety of our Father.

Riptides, on average, will carry a swimmer away from shore at about three miles per hour.  This is much faster than any of us can swim.  Yet our natural instinct when we see safety receding in the distance is to paddle directly towards the shore.  Our spiritual lives often look the same way.  God has made each one of us with a knowledge that He is a safe haven, and many of us, including myself, spend much of life (consciously or unconsciously) attempting to swim back to that safe haven by helping the needy, living morally, giving to charities, performing sets of disciplines that make us “better” people (whatever we’ve decided that means), trying to differentiate ourselves from the rest of humanity.  How arrogant!  We see those around us being carried out to sea and think that we can make the swim back to shore.  We are all being swept away from the arms of God by the desires of our flesh more quickly than we can ever hope to overcome on our own.  Instead of drawing closer to shore, each action we take fatigues us, miring us in our fate.  We continue to push back towards shore, but slowly our arms fatigue, feeling more like lead weights hanging limply from our bodies than instruments to save us.  Even treading water becomes difficult as the shore become all but a distant memory.  Our lungs slowly fill with water as we struggle to keep our head above water.  As our lives become consumed with good works all performed in the sake of “getting to safety,” we are, ironically, slowly killed by those works.  We’re drowning.

It doesn’t have to be this way.  Riptides don’t have to be a deadly situation.  In fact, the paradox is that if we will just stop swimming against this tide, if we will stop trying to get back to shore, we will be saved.  You see, I too often read the passages in John and Ephesians too quickly and in the wrong order.  I read that the Father has given Jesus works to accomplish and forget that just a few verses earlier Jesus himself said “I can do nothing on my own.”  I read Ephesians 2:10 and see the words “we” and “good works,” immediately throwing myself into those works as a way to return to shore.  Wrong.  Many of us can quote the verses before Ephesians 2:10, but we don’t often live it.  We are saved “through faith.”  It is not of our own doing, but is God’s gift.  He comes to us and rescues us.  We have to forsake saving ourselves; we have to rest.  We have to stop struggling in an attempt to swim back to shore ourselves and instead cling to the lifesaving cross that Jesus, our rescuer has given to us so that we can be plucked out of the riptide of sin and performance.

By his strong but gentle nail-pierced arms we will be rescued and forever safe.

Learning the Gospel in OT Law

How many times have we opened up our Bible to Exodus, Leviticus, Deuteronomy, or Numbers and thought “What does this have to do with the Gospel?”  As I trek through some of the OT lawgiving that begins in Exodus, I struggle with my own, small-minded perception that the laws given here aren’t “relevant to my life” (whatever that post-modern phrase means).  How often is this my primary mindset when reading any part of Scripture?

It seems as if spending time reading OT Law has revealed a pattern in the way I read all Scripture that I need to remedy.  We must change our view of Scripture so that instead of hijacking Scripture (even in a faithful interpretation) to serve our own needs, we enter into God’s story.  We can almost all quote 2 Tim 3:16 where Paul writes that “all Scripture is breathed out by God and is profitable for teaching, correction, reproof, and training up in righteousness.” What are we supposed to be learning? Where do we need correcting and reproof?  In what ways can the Scripture we’re reading train us up in righteousness?  We must be learning more about God, the meta-narrative of the Bible, and where God has worked and is working.  We must be corrected when our priorities are not God’s priorities.  In the end, we must read Scripture not to gain theological/intellectual knowledge, practical wisdom, or inspiration, but to expand our vision of God and his glory.

So what has this approach yielded in my OT study?  The whole of the law from Exodus to Deuteronomy can be summed in the first of the commands.  Exodus 20:2 says that God spoke, saying “I am the LORD your God, who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of slavery.” These are the first words that “God spoke,” and we see in these words the framework for viewing the rest of the law.  This is a God who delivered Israel from the throes of a cruel and abusive monarch, the God who led Israel through the desert to the Red Sea.  At this point, as Pharaoh and his legion of chariots pressed in, Israel believed God had led them there to die.  Instead, it was a moment where God demonstrated his mercy and faithfulness to the preservation of his people and also poured out his wrath on a hard hearted monarch.  This is the God who provided manna daily as Israel trekked through the desert.  God’s story was and is bigger than any story the Israelites or Egyptians could fathom.

In one phrase, we have the sum of the exodus and the law.  “I am the LORD your God.” We see a God of mercy, a God of faithfulness, a God of provision, a God of wrath, a jealous God who desires a people to call his own.  God is a God who is preeminent over all of creation, over all peoples, at all times, and we are to value him over all other people, possessions, interests and hobbies.  He is the Ultimate Provider, who because of the very character that we see demonstrated and expounded on in the OT sent his own son to pay a ransom for our unfaithfulness, our selfishness, and our rebellion.  This is what Exodus 20:2 says, and what the rest of the law expounds upon.  Let us glorify Him and make the Lord foremost amongst our affections.

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