Political Credibility

Warning! This one's political. But, it's also short.

I just heard, yet again, a news commentator repeat the charge that Bush has diminished American credibility in the world. I am completely bewildered by this charge. When did the U.S. have all this credibility in the world? And, why would finally doing what you say you're going to do diminish credibility rather than enhance it?

I am the son of an expatriate businessman. We lived in Guatemala, Panama, Mexico, Argentina, Brazil, and Lebanon. I reluctantly came to the U.S. for college. To me the U.S. was a foreign country we visited only on occasion to see grandparents. I was always very anxious to go home after our brief stays here. I simply didn't like it.

Except for Latin America's brief fascination with JFK, I don't remember the US ever having any credibility. The anti-American feeling was very strong then -- enough so that I still remember having rocks thrown at me just because I was a gringo. Latin Americans ridiculed Americans for their uncouth, loud behavior, their extreme naivete and provincialism, their habit of saying one thing and doing another. And, I agreed. I was embarrassed by the U.S.

More recently, I worked as the Chief Information Officer of a German company, one of the DAX 30 along with other giants such as SAP and Siemens. The German attitude toward the U.S., even during the so-called world-wide empathy for America immediately after 9/11, was precisely the same as what I encountered growing up. I heard snide comments about the U.S. that could have been verbatim quotes of comments I heard in Germany in the '70s.

When was this so-called golden age of American credibility? What evidence is there that the U.S. has ever had any credibility to lose? Are we supposed to have had credibility under Clinton? There's no question he was likeable to Europeans, especially because of his sex scandals seemed so very European and impeaching him for it so very Puritanical. But are we now equating being liked with being credible?

And, how does UN-centered multilateralism convey credibility? Weren't 17 UN resolutions proved to be laughably empty?

I just don't get it!

The Presence of God Better than a Beautiful House

Job 1:21 The LORD gave and the LORD has taken away. Blessed be the name of the LORD.

We have just put our house up for sale. The real estate agent is walking through measuring each room for her flyers as I type this. It's a difficult day for us. We have loved this house. It is more than we ever imagined we would have.

And that is the key to winning any internal struggles we may have. This house was an unsought gift. We even struggled to accept it as a token of the extravagant grace of God simply because it was so much more than anything we've ever expected. Yet, we were persuaded that God intended us to have this house, and we bought it. We have always acknowledged it as purely a gift from God.

Now, though we never wanted anything like this in the first place, it's difficult to let it go, and, once again, we need to argue with ourselves. (The first mark of sanity is talking to yourself.) The argument is obvious. God has not changed. If He was gracious in giving, He is gracious in taking. It is far better to love the Giver than the gift. It is a good thing to let go our earthly treasures; it demonstrates that a heavenly treasure is far more precious. It is absurd to seek to hold onto what we cannot keep.

All of these arguments are true. However, they are not sufficient in themselves to suppress the struggle. I know what would. I have had, in the past, such a sense of the intimate presence of God that nothing else matters. I have "seen" the glory of Christ. I have known the love of God. Even the memory of it is enough to compel me to seek a change. I pray that Asaph's confession would be mine, "But as for me, the nearness of God is my good; I have made the Lord God my refuge, that I may tell of all Your works." (Psalm 73:28) Or, David's, "You will make known to me the path of life; in Your presence is fullness of joy." (Psalm 16:11)

May He give us a sense of His presence! But even if He doesn't, "The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away. Blessed be the name of the Lord."

One Thing

¹ You foolish Galatians, who has bewitched you, before whose eyes Jesus Christ was publicly portrayed as crucified? ² This is the only thing I want to find out from you: did you receive the Spirit by the works of the Law, or by hearing with faith? ³ Are you so foolish? Having begun by the Spirit, are you now being perfected by the flesh? ⁴ Did you suffer so many things in vain-- if indeed it was in vain? ⁵ So then, does He who provides you with the Spirit and works miracles among you, do it by the works of the Law, or by hearing with faith?

(Gal 3:1-5 NASB update)

One thing!

One thing would conclude the dispute between Paul and his opponents. One thing would fix Galatian loyalty. One thing would expose their confusion to be a bewitched denial of the meaning of Christ’s death. One thing would keep them from making even their own previous suffering meaningless. One thing would make it blatantly obvious to them how the Christian life is to be lived. One thing would settle the matter. “This is the only thing I want to find out from you: did you receive the Spirit by the works of the Law, or by hearing with faith?” (v. 2)

This is surprising. This is the most passionately urgent of Paul’s letters. He lets it all hang out. He is intensely concerned over the Galatians.

Look at the beginning of this series of questions, “You foolish Galatians, who has bewitched you?”

Look at the beginning of the letter. It’s the only one of his letters to the churches, besides 2 Corinthians, without a thanksgiving section (compare Rom 1:8ff; 1 Cor 1:4ff.; Eph 1:15ff; Php 1:3ff.; Col 1:3ff; 1 Th 1:2ff; 2 Th 1:3ff.) 2 Corinthians still begins with an encouraging affirmation; in the midst of his opening blessing he affirms, “our hope for you is firmly grounded” (2 Cor 1:7). But, he doesn’t have anything good to say about the Galatians. After the normal salutation, “Grace to you …” (1:3-5) Paul exclaims, “I am amazed that you are so quickly deserting Him who called you by the grace of Christ.” Rather than thanking God for them, he accuses them of desertion. Paul was able to thank God for the Corinthians, a church that not only tolerated incest, but bragged about it. (1 Cor 5:1,2) The Corinthians were morally confused; some advocating asceticism within marriage, some frequenting prostitutes. (1 Cor 7:1; 6:16) They were also so doctrinally confused that they denied the resurrection of the body, not knowing that necessarily implied a denial of the resurrection of Christ, too. (1 Cor 15:12-14) Yet Paul is somehow able to give thanks for them, and call them saints. He has no such nice things to say about the Galatians, neither addressing them as saints nor giving thanks to God for them. Paul’s urgency in this letter is unparalleled.

Look at the solemn curse he pronounces on anyone who would distort the gospel -- not once but twice! “But even if we, or an angel from heaven, should preach to you a gospel contrary to what we have preached to you, he is to be accursed! As we said before, so I say again now, if any man is preaching to you a gospel contrary to what you have received, he is to be accursed!” (1:8,9) Paul believes that blessing and curse is at stake in this letter. The false teachers in Galatia are distorting the gospel to such an extent that they have brought eternal condemnation upon themselves. The Galatian Christians have to be shaken out of their befuddlement to see for themselves the very real danger they are in. They are at risk of falling from grace, denying Christ, and being cursed.

Look at the shocking language he uses. Paul is so angry he wishes these false teachers would even castrate themselves. (Gal 5:12) If they are so eager for circumcision, let them Bobbetize themselves! Can you imagine a pastor saying anything like this from the pulpit, today?

There can’t be any question that the issues Paul deals with in this letter are urgent. Paul dispenses with his usual formalities at the beginning of this letter, he pronounces a solemn curse on his antagonists, and he uses shockingly strong language to denounce them. Yet, he says, “this is the only thing I want to find out from you … “

Paul is obviously appealing to the Galatians’ experience. And this raises many questions for us[1], but the most important – the most urgent -- is this, would Paul’s argument work on us? Are we so intimately familiar with the Holy Spirit that this is where Paul would begin with us? Is our own experience of the Spirit’s ongoing ministry so real that Paul could use it as the foundation for a defense of justification by faith and an explanation of the believer’s freedom from the Law? Do we know the Spirit as a Person? Do we know His ministry as teacher, guide, comforter, sanctifier, witness, as the one who enables all our worship, as the one who will transform our bodies? Would one thing settle the matter for us?

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[1] For example, aren’t arguments from experience, especially experience of the Spirit, dangerous? Aren’t we notoriously prone to misinterpreting our own experience at the expense of sound doctrine? To what extent does experience outpace our theology and so guide our thinking? To what extent does sound doctrine precede and determine whether our experience is valid? How do we keep this tension in balance? None of us fully understands all that is happening when we are first converted; we take a lifetime to grow into our initial experience. Isn’t this true too of our experience of the Spirit?

Shame, Sex, and Honor

Webster’s Dictionary defines shame as “the painful feeling of having done something dishonorable or improper.” The New Shorter Oxford English Dictionary defines it as “the feeling of humiliation or distress arising from the consciousness of something dishonourable or ridiculous in one’s own or another’s behaviour or circumstances, or from a situation offensive to one’s own or another’s sense of propriety or decency.”

So, shame is a painful emotion, a sense of dishonor, impropriety, and disgrace.

If there is anything characteristic of American culture it is a fear of painful emotion. The worst offense anyone can commit these days is to make someone feel bad, especially ashamed.

Clearly, though, shame can be a good thing. It is the right response to God’s condemnation of idolatry. Look at Paul’s indictment of the human race in Romans 1:18 through 3:20. The climax of that indictment is that “every mouth must be closed.” (3:19) No one, Gentile or Jew, has any excuse before God. There is nothing we can say in our defense, nor to mitigate our crime. We have no excuses. (1:20 and 2:1) We have nothing to say. We must be silent in our guilt. We must be overcome by our sense of accountability to God, stare at our shoes, and not say a word.

But it is not just guilt that ought to overwhelm us; we ought also to be overcome by shame. We ought to lose all color in our faces. We ought to go weak-kneed. We ought to faint. We ought to feel intense humiliation. God intends to shame us. Rom 1:24, “Therefore God gave them over in the lusts of their hearts to impurity, so that their bodies would be dishonored among them.” Rom 1:26, “For this reason God gave them over to degrading passions.” Rom 1:28, “God gave them over to a depraved mind, to do those things which are not proper.” Rom 2:23, 24, “You who boast … do you dishonor God? For the name of God is blasphemed among the Gentiles because of you.” Dishonored bodies, degrading passions, depraved minds, doing what is not proper, and dishonoring God. The healthy response -- the appropriate, true and accurate emotional response -- to this, is shame. A lack of shame is pathological.

Although we all shy away from physical pain, an absence of pain is very dangerous. I remember many years ago as a newborn Christian, I was very impressed with a pair of missionaries with the Christian & Missionary Alliance who worked at a leper colony in Vietnam. I was very taken with them and spent as much time with them as I could. They explained to me that the worst part of leprosy was the loss of the sensation of pain. Their Vietnamese leper friends could not feel the cuts, scrapes and lacerations they’d often get as they walked around in the jungles. They’d get infected and ultimately lose their limbs — it was unfortunately most common for them to lose their feet, though it was also common for them to be oblivious to burns on their hands and fingers. They had lost the sense of pain that should have been the signal that something was wrong. Pain was a good thing. They longed for a recovery of painful sensation. In the same way, we ought to long for a recovery of shame.

One of the reasons our culture seems to shy away from shame is that it is often tied to sexuality. It is thought that shame is a holdover from a sexually repressive, immature society. It is a Victorian-era emotion, to be sloughed off by sexually enlightened moderns. We know too much about sex to give in to old superstitious cultural taboos. But what is striking is how biblical, not just cultural, shame over sex is, or ought to be. The New Testament doesn’t quite put it that way; instead, the New Testament associates sex with shame’s opposite, honor. “This is the will of God, your sanctification; that you abstain from sexual immorality; that each of you know how to possess his own vessel in sanctification and honor, not in lustful passion, like [those] who do not know God.” (1 Th 4:3-5) “Let marriage be held in honor among all, and the marriage bed be undefiled.” (Heb 13:4) “God gave them over in the lusts of their hearts to impurity, so that their bodies would be dishonored among them.” (Rom 1:24) A desire for illicit sex is a spiritual disease. It is idolatrous. Shame is the pain that warns us of it, designed to prevent the spread of infection.

When was the last time we thought about honor and sex? A focus on honor itself seems a little old fashioned. We don’t commonly think about honor except in times of war or with big sporting events such as the Olympics. Or we think of honor as a Southern thing; in the movies it‘s the Confederate officers who are obsessed with honor. We pay little attention to personal honor day-by-day, even less with respect to sex. It certainly doesn’t seem a strong enough motive to really move us. Yet, it ought to be; eternal life is for those who seek honor. (Rom 2:7)

We need for the sake of the health of our own souls to recover a true sense of honor and of shame.

Paul's Autobiography in Galatians

I had a new thought today about that autobiographical section in Galatians beginning at chapter 1 verse 13 and extending all the way through to the end of chapter 2. Almost all outlines I've seen regard this as a defense of Paul's independent credentials as an apostle. The idea is that the Judaizers, Paul's antagonists, have called his apostolic authority into question. They have probably claimed for themselves that they have been deputized by the apostles in Jerusalem to clear up Paul's distorted teaching, especially with regard to the practices of the Gentiles. They therefore appeal to Jerusalem for their authority. Paul responds by establishing his independence from Jerusalem putting himself on a par with the reputed pillars of the church, but also affirming that his message has been recognized as consistent with theirs. The focus of this section, then, is Paul's status and authority as an apostle.

I realized, today, that can't be Paul's emphasis, because he's already said that if he himself were to preach a gospel different than what he had already preached to them, then he is accursed. He calls down a curse upon himself if he veers from the content of the gospel. It's the gospel that's at issue, not his, nor anyone else's authority. If he distorts the gospel then he has no authority; he is damned. The truth of the gospel stands independent of its proclaimers. It is is no respecter of persons, whether they are the reputed pillars of the church, the beloved Barnabas, or, even, Peter.

It is true that Paul outlines his independence in this section, but I think that serves first, to make it clear that the gospel he preached to the Galatians is unalterable because it is a divine revelation, and, second, to assert that he has been faithful to keep the gospel pure and undistorted. The gospel he preached to them doesn't need any modification or correction.

So, the focus in this autobiographical section is not Paul's authority, but the purity of his gospel. His authority is meaningless if he has not faithfully preserved the gospel he received.

This may seem a distinction without a difference; but I think it makes more sense of the context. The flow of Paul's argument makes more sense to me. Verses 10 through 13 in chapter 1 all begin with a "for" and are clearly intended to explain and support the paragraph in vv. 6-9, as is that entire autobiographical section (though Paul makes some very strong doctrinal points along the way building to a climax in Gal 2:11-21.)

I am currently working on a detailed outline of Galatians for my own use. I am convinced that the series of rhetorical questions in Gal 3:1-5 form the center of Paul's argument in this letter rather than simply being a rhetorical ploy, an appeal to the Galatians experience to draw them into his reasoning. I believe that we have often missed the point of this letter. I've heard countless sermon series that assume that the primary issue in this letter is justification by faith. The book of Galatians is a defense of justification. I don't think that's true. I think the real issue has to do with the role of works of the Law in the life of the Christian. Paul argues that we are free from the Law. The Judaizers raise a number of objections to this. For example, implied in chapter 5 is that freedom from the Law would lead to licentiousness. Paul's argument is that it is the ministry of the Spirit that prevents license. The Christian is free from the Law but follows the Spirit. Christians begin by the Spirit and end by the Spirit. The ministry of the Spirit, I believe, is the central theme of this letter. However, I am seeking, by writing a detailed outline of Paul's argument, to verify whether this is so. It's in the midst of writing out my outline on these first two chapters that I had this "Aha!" moment about how the autobiographical section follows from 1:6-9.

Creative Love

In this is love, not that we loved God, but that He loved us.

We love, because He first loved us.

(1 John 4:10, 19)

My wife is lovely. She has a smile that could light the city of Chicago. I still vividly remember the day, almost 31 years ago, when I held the door open for her into what was then called the CI at Duke University, now called the Alpine something-or-other. I got lost in her beautiful eyes. It seemed to last forever. I can still reconstruct in my imagination the unusual mixture of colors that make up her hazel eyes. I saw every color on that day. (She doesn’t even remember that event.) We have now been married for slightly more than 29 years, and I am constantly impressed by her loveliness, especially her beauty in “the hidden person of the heart.” (1 Peter 3:4) My love for her is a response. I respond to all that is lovely in her. Her beauty, her character, draw out my love for her.

God’s love is not like that. He does not respond to our loveliness. We know that because He’s told us what would constitute loveliness in us. It is not appearance. God is not captivated by a smile or beautiful eyes as I am, “for God sees not as man sees, for man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.” (1 Sam 16:7) Instead, to God loveliness is whole-hearted love: love to God with all our heart, strength and mind, and love for our neighbors as ourselves. But God’s love precedes this love. We love, Him and our neighbors, because He first loved us.

God’s love is creative. It creates loveliness in us. Because, “we have come to know and have believed [by the testimony of the Spirit (v. 13) the love God has for us” (v. 16) we abide in love. We genuinely do love God and our neighbors, though imperfectly. If we do not love, we have not come to know God.

So, God’s love always precedes and always creates. It is never a response. It is not a love because; it is a love in spite.

God’s love, though, is similar to mine for my wife in one sense. It is a distinguishing love. I do not love all women the same. I love my wife uniquely. God, too, has set his love uniquely on a people. Why? Because He has set His love on them. No reason other than His own will. It truly is a preceding, creating love. Nevertheless, it is passionate, never-ending, delighting.

No Double Jeopardy

If we confess our sins, He is faithful and righteous to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.

(1 John 1:9 NASB update)

Why would God’s righteousness be compromised if He did not forgive sin? This verse tells us, “He is … righteous to forgive.” Does confession create an obligation on the part of God to forgive, an obligation He’d unjustly violate if He didn’t forgive? Is His righteousness the same as His faithfulness, so that faithful and righteous is simply a more forceful expression of God’s commitment to fulfill His promise of forgiveness? What is the basis of our expectation of forgiveness—is it God’s righteousness or God’s benevolence? When we so readily quote this verse to assure ourselves, or one another, of God’s forgiveness, do we wonder at it?


We’d normally expect John to affirm God’s grace in forgiving sin, “He is faithful and gracious to forgive us our sins.” We normally appeal to God’s mercy for forgiveness in spite of God’s righteousness; not because of it. We recognize that God’s righteousness requires judgment, not forgiveness. We take great comfort from the first part of God’s self-revelation to Moses, “The Lord, the Lord God, compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in lovingkindness and truth; who keeps lovingkindness for thousands, who forgives iniquity, transgression and sin;” but we tremble over the second part, “yet He will by no means leave the guilty unpunished, visiting the iniquity of the fathers on the children and on the grandchildren to the third and fourth generations” (Ex 34:6,7)


We know that “our unrighteousness demonstrates the righteousness of God” (Rom 3:5) not because God forgives but because He judges. He is Himself justified—shown to be personally righteous—when He pronounces judgment on sin. (Rom 3:4) In fact, God’s forbearance of sin raises questions about God’s own righteousness. Is He too pure to look upon sin, or not? Doesn’t He in fact tolerate sin? He may occasionally reveal His fury against irreverence, such as in His outburst against Uzzah (2 Sam 6:1-9), but more often He is silent. (When we read this shocking passage our reflex is to ask, “How can God do that?” though the question we ought to ask is, “Why doesn’t He do that all the time?” If God is so offended by the careless irreverence of a man simply reaching out to steady the ark of God, if this seemingly innocent act is worthy of death, then how is it possible any one of us continues to survive for a single second? We offend God, treating Him as less holy than He is every second of every minute of every day. How could God bring the flood to destroy the earth in the days of Noah when His evaluation of human character is the same immediately afterwards as before? The intent of man’s heart is evil from his youth. (compare Gen 8:21 with 6:5)) God must acquit Himself against the charge of too readily overlooking sin. He must prove His righteous revulsion against sin. (see Rom 3:25,26) It is strange for us to rely on His righteousness for assurance of forgiveness.


The key to understanding this verse is found in the first two verses of chapter 2, “And if anyone sins, we have an Advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous; and He Himself is the propitiation for our sins; and not for ours only but also for those of the whole world.” It is really found in the word, propitiation; it is because of propitiation that God’s righteousness is at stake in our forgiveness, that we can count on God to be righteous to forgive.

Propitiation refers to the work of Christ in averting the righteous wrath of God. It’s very important for us to be clear about how this works. The editors of the Revised Standard Version, for example, translated the Greek as “expiation” rather than “propitiation” because they thought the idea of propitiating the wrath of a personal god too heathen. A heathen worshipper appeases his angry god, in essence, by bribing him, by presenting an offering that’s valuable enough to convince his god that it’s preferable befriending him than harboring anger. But Christ’s offering is far from a bribe, and He does not propitiate God simply by changing His mind. Instead, He offers Himself—an infinitely valuable offering, it is true—not to divert God’s wrath and fury but to absorb it. Christ is our propitiation because God’s fury toward sin was fully unleashed on Him. It was fully expressed, given full vent, and exhausted. Jesus cried out, “My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?” because He really had! Jesus felt the alienation from God, the wrath of God, our sins deserved. The resurrection proves to us that God’s wrath is removed. The Father receives His Son with a smile. If God had simply changed His mind about us, there’s no reason He couldn’t change it back. There would be no reason He couldn’t revert to His previous anger. But if, instead, He has fully punished our sins with infinite fury, then it would be wrong for Him not to forgive, “He is faithful and righteous to forgive us our sins.” There is no double jeopardy with God.[1]

But if this is true, why is forgiveness conditional upon confession, “If we confess our sins, He is faithful and righteous to forgive … ?”

Christ’s propitiation is effective for those who are really united to Him.[2] Faith is what unites us to Him so that His propitiation is for us. We might look at our union with Christ from two different perspectives. From God’s perspective, we are united with Christ in principle in election. This, then, is effected by His calling us and subsequently baptizing us with the Spirit into Christ. (1 Cor 1:30; 12:13) From the human perspective, it is faith that unites us to Christ. Our hearts, that is, all our affections, are drawn out toward Christ in love, trust, hope, and so on. Faith is an affectional union with Him. (I see little difference between loving God and believing Him.) Confession, too, is an expression of faith, and has the same dynamic, effecting a mental union with Him. To deny that we have sinned is to call God a liar. (v. 10) That is the very opposite of faith. Faith regards God as trustworthy; to deny that we have sinned is to accuse God of lying about us. It is to claim that His evaluation of us is untrue. On the other hand, to confess our sins is to agree with God’s testimony against us. We are of one mind with God about ourselves. Confession is a condition for forgiveness because union with Christ is a condition of His propitiation being for us, faith is what effects that union, and confession is an expression of that faith.

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[1] Double jeopardy is not just the round where Ken Jennings really racks up his winnings; it is remaining liable to judgment for a crime for which one has already been acquitted. The American justice system prohibits double jeopardy. No one can be retried for a crime once they’ve already been found innocent. A person who’s been found guilty, on the other hand, often looks for a retrial.

[2] He is given as the propitiation for the sins of the whole world in the same sense that “there is no other name under heaven that has been given among men by which we may be saved” (Acts 4:12) There is one name for the whole world; there is one propitiation for the world.