Preparing for Thanksgiving with Help From Ecclesiastes and Psalm 23

 (This is the transcript of a talk I gave several years ago to the women at Grace PCA, Douglasville)

Since our time together is so close to Thanksgiving, and as I was thinking about what to share with you all, it came me that it might be helpful to prepare for Thanksgiving in a spiritual sense.  If you are like me, and are hosting the meal this year, you have probably already given some serious thought to the menu, how you’re going to seat everyone, and how to decorate the table.  But what about preparing to do the thanking itself, or better yet, how to cultivate in our hearts an attitude of thanksgiving and gratitude that governs what we do and say, and how we look at the world around us?

Another way to ask the question would be, how can we view our lives in such a way that when we look around us, we see gifts everywhere – packages of love from our Creator and Redeemer?

Well, the idea of life as a gift is actually the main premise of a book I recently read on Ecclesiastes, which I used to think of as rather depressing, and even unbiblical in a way, as if it didn’t fit with the rest of Scripture.  But – the title of the book intrigued me:  Living Life Backward: How Ecclesiastes Teaches Us to Live in Light of the End.  In this book, the author, David Gibson tells us that “the main message of Ecclesiastes in a nutshell: life in God’s world is gift, not gain” (37).

Now, this premise has all sorts of implications, and we don’t have time to go into them all – especially what Gibson means by “not gain.”  (Hint: Book closes with Phil.1:21.) What we will be doing is looking at Psalm 23 this morning in light of the message of Ecclesiastes. The idea of Psalm 23 came to me when Gibson referenced another book on Ecc. called A Table in the Mist, and I was reminded of the table that God prepares for us, even in the presence of our enemies. We’re going to come back to those verses and talk about the table, but we’ll start at the beginning of the Psalm and try to identify some of God’s gifts to us:

🎁 vs 1: “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.”  The first and greatest of all gifts God gives to us is Himself.  (Gospel.) He created us that we might enjoy Him, and when we said ‘no” to this most precious of gifts, He wouldn’t take that for an answer, but sent his Son to live and die, and rise again, defeating death, so that He could bring us back to Himself, to be reconciled to Him, and call him not only “shepherd” but Father.  This is a thing of wonder – an amazing Grace, and an amazing Love – something we can contemplate and celebrate with joy as we enter the Christmas season.

 🎁 vv. 2-3 “He makes me lie down in green pastures; He leads me beside quiet waters, He restores my soul; He guides me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake.”

Here we have God leading and guiding us, and “making us” lie down in green pastures. In Eccl. 5, we are told that when we go to the house of God we are to “guard our steps” and “draw near to listen.” In talking about this chapter, Dr. Gibson reminds us first of all that “the ear is the Christian’s primary sense organ” and that “listening to what God has said is our main spiritual discipline.”  He goes on to say that 

“life is a gift, and God’s Word is the most precious of gifts, to be honored and loved and treasured above all others, It is a fallen world, and interpreting it to our satisfaction cannot be done. You cannot always read it. But you can read the Bible. And as you read, God is speaking. So listen” (81-82).”  

So – back to Psalm 23 – we can see that the “green pastures” could represent God’s Word, as both the place where we feed spiritually, and the place where we rest.  It’s funny to think that the sheep would have to be “made” to lie down in the green pastures.  They sound so lovely – they are peaceful, restful and the very source of their life. But sheep tend to wander, as do we, so we can be thankful, not only for the gift of God’s Word, but for the ways in which He guides us back, sometimes nudging, sometimes forcing us to stop and rest in it.

🎁 Vs. 4: “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil, for You are with me; Your rod and your staff, they comfort me.”  In this verse we see that God’s discipline – that trials and difficulties – are also a gift from Him. I think that one of the reasons we don’t want to open this gift is because we find it hard to believe that it has actually “come from [God’s] fatherly care.” Gibson explains that the  imagery in Eccl. 3: 15, which says that “God seeks what has been driven away,” is “suggestive of shepherding, where a farmer deliberately seeks out the animal that has fled the fold and goes to find it and bring it back.” This is what the rod and staff are for – to bring us back to Himself – back to Joy.  *Note that the rod & staff comfort us. God is not pushing us away when we experience trials – quite the opposite – God is bringing us back.

🎁 Vs. 5 “You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; You have anointed my head with oil; My cup overflows.”  There’s so much here to unwrap – so many packages! 

·      We have the gift of God’s protection and sovereign care. In a fallen world, where we are often overwhelmed by the opposition we face as Christians, both from within (our sinful nature), and without, God tells us to sit down at a meal that He has prepared – to be at peace knowing that He will fight for us.

·      We also have the enjoyment of the meal itself – the flavors, the food, the colors. God still wants us to enjoy these things for what they are in themselves.

·      The psalm doesn’t specifically mention this, but the idea of feasting at a table does imply more than one person being there, so especially in light of what Ecclesiastes says, God gives us people as gifts.  Ecc. 4:9-10 says, “Two are better than one…for if they fall, one will lift up his fellow,” and Eccl 9:9 tells us to “enjoy life with the wife whom you love.”  In other words, the people in your life are a gift to you from the Lord. When we delight in them as a gift from the Lord, we are delighting in the Lord.

·      We have the reminder of our glorious future with our Savior whenever we eat a meal.  As Gibson says, “We eat and drink as we vanish from the earth like a vapor. But one day we will eat and drink in the city of the King, where death will have vanished from the earth forever (116).  Right now, we are the ones who will “vanish from the earth” because of the curse of death. (Eccl. 1:1 – “Vanity of vanities…all is vanity!” (“vanity” = hebel = “breath).  But one day, death itself will vanish like a vapor.  One day we’ll eat and drink, not in presence of our enemies, but in His very presence. Gibson says that “those w/o Christ often abandon themselves to eating and drinking because sometimes it looks as if that’s all there is to do before we die. But those who love Christ cherish eating and drinking because it looks a little like what we will do after we die” (117) -- and David, (the writer of Psalm 23), seems to be in this same frame of mind as he sits at the table, for he says,

          “Surely goodness and lovingkindness will follow me all the days of my life, And I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.”

A Clean Conscience or a Pure Heart?

I was copying some notes from one journal to another, and came across this quote from Heiko Oberman’s biography of Martin Luther:

“There would be ‘storms sweeping over the conscience’ when faith clung to its hope in God without seeking refuge in good works. At that moment the idol of good conscience would demonstrate its power” (p. 320).

The "idol of good conscience"? How can a good conscience be an idol?  Isn’t Luther going a bit too far here?  What about Paul’s confession that he “always take[s] pains to have a clean conscience toward both God and man” (Acts 24:16), and his exhortations in the Epistles to act on the “grounds of” or “for the sake of” conscience? On the one hand, I see what Luther is saying, and it is breathtakingly liberating. Can it really be true that “saying yes to God means saying no to one’s own conscience," as Luther put it (320)?

It’s a bit ironic that I found an answer in a Puritan prayer, for Oberman likened the Puritans to the monks of Luther’s day, as those who  define their faith by their ability to maintain clear consciences.   It’s possible that Oberman, though an expert on Luther, may have something to learn about the faith of the Puritans. Consider this stanza from “The Spirit as Teacher” from The Valley of Vision.

Apply to my soul the blood of Christ, effectually, continually,
and help me to believe, with conscience
  comforted, that it cleanseth from all sin;
….
Thy office is to teach me to draw near to Christ with a pure heart,
steadfastly persuaded of his love, in the full assurance of faith.
 

If our consciences must be comforted, they can’t be clean.  A clean conscience needs no comforting. Here is a picture of a true believer: of one who comes to the Father with a pure heart, i.e., a troubled conscience, because he knows he is unclean before God. As God the Spirit applies the blood of Christ to his soul, He comforts his conscience.  To have a pure heart, therefore, means to come to Christ without pretense, not as clean, and therefore worthy, but as unclean and in desperate need of the Fountain which flows from the Rock of Ages.

The way is narrow and painful, Luther says, because we must constantly be “torn out” of our conscience – that is, the conscience that “seeks peace in its own holiness.”  May I never presume to think that I can offer a clean conscience to God; may I never step out of the cleansing flow of Christ's blook into the barren desert of self-righteousness! 

"Christ is that tree of life"

     I read this today in John Owen’s Communion with the Triune God: 

When the heat of wrath is ready to scorch the soul, Christ, interposing, bears it all. Under the shadow of his wings we sit down constantly, quietly, safely, putting out trust in him; and all this with great delight. Yea, who can express the joy of a soul safe[ly] shadowed from wrath under the covert of the righteousness of the Lord Jesus! (139).

     This is written in the present tense, implying that even now, Christ is shading us, His children, from the wrath of God.  But was not our justification a one-time event, as described in Romans 8:1-2?  And yet – He continually intercedes for us. He is functioning as a mediator, praying for us, so something is happening continually with respect to our salvation.  Jesus never ceases from his work in saving us!  As it says in Hebrews 7, “…he is able to save to the uttermost those who draw near to God through him, since he always lives to make intercession for them.”

     So, although his sacrifice was made “once for all” (Hebrews 7:27), it did not obtain for us immediate access to the Father.  We must always come to Him through the mediation of Christ.  I have been taught this, but Owen’s metaphor of Christ as a tree, to whom we can run for shade is new, and reminds me of how ugly my sin is.  I must run to Christ.  I can’t sin and then step out into the sunlight, so to speak, away from the protective boughs of Christ’s mediation, and I shouldn’t want to, for, as Owen says “who can express the joy of a soul safely shadowed from wrath under the covert of the righteousness of the Lord Jesus?” 

     And yet, this is what we are prone to do.  “Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it.  Prone to leave the God I love," as the hymn-writer puts it.  Even when we think we are stepping towards Him, if we try to approach Him apart from Christ, we are not approaching Him in faith, but in self-sufficiency and pride.  Owen’s picture of a tree brings me back to the full realization of what Christ is doing.  He is shielding me from the wrath of God – continually – when I am working, playing, sleeping, eating.  He doesn’t stop.  This is almost too much.  As David said in Psalm 139, “Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is high; I cannot attain it.” 

      I cannot attain it, and yet I can revel in it.  I can rejoice that the same God whose only response to sin is wrath, is also so full of love that He would make a way to shield His children from that wrath, and to make them holy – and happy, forever!

Loves Comes Full Circle

Listening to today's sermon on Philippians 3:8, I felt weary, and inclined to feel sorry for myself.  We were being admonished to count everything as rubbish in order to gain Christ. All things, in comparison to the treasure of Christ were to be regarded as no better than manure (and in reality, a much stronger, even offensive word was used in the original Greek text).

As I thought about all that my life entailed, I felt frustrated.  I wanted nothing more than simply to sit at Christ's feet, as Mary had done, basking in His truth and love, but the realities of my life would not allow this (or so I told myself, after a second trip to the "potty" with my daughter deprived me of a hymn and half of the sermon).  What does one do with all of life's obligations?  How do they fit into this model of treasuring only Christ?

B.B. Warfield says this in The Emotional Life of our Lord:

"...[Jesus] declares that the love of his followers to him, imitating and reproducing his love to them, is to be the source of their obedience to him, and through that, of all the good that can come to human beings, including, as the highest reach of social perfection, their love for one another.  Self-sacrificing love is thus made the essence of the Christian life..." (emphasis mine)

 It's not always about the "cloister," the secluded time of prayer and communion with Christ.  It is often about imitating Him and loving Him by obeying Him.  For me this means caring for my children, for my special-needs child, for my husband, and being faithful in the many tasks I have been given as a way of sacrificially loving my neighbor.

Quick Observation from Deutoronomy 27

Just wanted to make note of the emphasis on kindness (to the blind, fatherless, widow...) and sexual purity in this chapter.  I see these as recurring themes throughout Scripture in places where God gives His law.  This presents a clearer picture of His character, as He reveals what is important to Him.

And of course -- verse 15 is the foundation:  worshiping God alone, and refraining from idolatry.

This is reiterated by Christ himself in Matthew 22:37-39:

"Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind...
You shall love your neighbor as yourself."

The Thief's Creed

I recently read a comment on Facebook that said "Theology didn't save the thief on the cross."  This got me thinking.  Of course theology per se doesn't save us, but our theology is also our creed.  Our creed is what we believe, and is therefore inextricably linked to our faith.  So, I turned to Luke 23 to see what the thief said, and realized that this man confessed his faith very clearly in his last hours of life.  Here is his Credo, in my own words:

• I fear God, who has justly condemned me for my wicked deeds.

• I believe that Jesus lived a sinless life, and is Heir to the kingdom of God.

• I believe that Jesus is the one who can plead for me - who can release me from my condemnation.

• I am guilty; Jesus is sinless.

• I am a man; Jesus is the God-man, my mediator, and my Savior! 

Encounter With an Onion

A friend of mine sent me a book entitled The Supper of the Lamb, by Robert Farrar Capon.  It belongs to a genre all its own, something along the lines of "theological treatise meets the cookbook."  In Chapter 2, ("The First Session"), he has his reader "confront" an onion, examining, peeling, and carefully studying it in order to make various discoveries about onions and their Maker.  He also uses this encounter to say the following about "place."

You have, you see, already discovered something:  The uniqueness, the placiness, of places drives not from abstractions like location, but from confrontations like man-onion.  Erring theologians have strayed to their graves without learning what you have come upon.  They have insisted, for example, that heaven is no place because it could not be defined in terms of spatial co-ordinates.  They could have written off man's eternal habitation as a "state of mind."  But look what your onion has done for you:  It has given you back the possibility of heaven as a place without encumbering you with the irrelevancy of locations.  This meeting between the two of you could be moved to a thousand different latitudes and longitudes and still remain the session it started out to be....

...What really matters is not where we are, but  who -- what real beings -- are with us."

Now compare this to an excerpt from Sinclair Ferguson's book, Grow in Grace.

The order of spiritual experience has not changed since the psalmist's day.  We too need to go to the place where God has promised to meet with us.  That is no longer in Jerusalem.  It is in Christ.  No longer in a place, but now in a person.

Back to Capon:

"In that sense, Heaven, where we see God face to face through the risen flesh of Jesus, may well be the placiest of all places, as it is the most gloriously material of all meetings."

Amen!