Michael Kelley's Blog, page 48

Come Adore on Bended Knee

Angels We Have Heard on High is completely anonymous. In fact, it has always been printed with no known authorship, either for lyrics or music. And yet the chorus is perhaps the most recognizable of any we traditionally sing during the Christmas season:

“Gloria, in excelsis Deo!”

Though we don’t know the author of this carol, we do know it originated in France. As the story goes, shepherds in southern France had a tradition many years ago of calling to one another the words of that chorus, each from the hillside they happened to be on. Beyond that, though, the carol was sung in England by the first part of the 19th century.

The lyrics are simple and straightforward, not only telling the story of Jesus’ birth, but also exhorting worship to Him. One line in particular issues this exhortation:

“Come adore on bended knee, Christ the Lord, the new born king!”

Indeed, isn’t this really the same exhortation that goes out to the people of God, and from the people of God, with our whole lives? Aren’t we reminding one another and proclaiming to the world that there is a King, and that the proper response to a King is to worship?

That call is really synonymous with the very title we see for Jesus in those simple words:

Lord.

That title is a familiar one for us today; in fact, it was the center piece of the very first Christian confession. But perhaps because it is so common to us that we tend to lose some of the significance associated with it. When the first Christians proclaimed that Jesus Christ is Lord, it was not just a statement of belief; it was a statement of subversion. The confession that linked the Roman empire together in the first century was “Caesar is Lord.” And then here came these Christians, claiming a higher allegiance than to their emperor.

So we echo their first confession. And when we say, “Jesus is Lord,” we are acknowledging there is no part of creation, much less our own lives, over which Jesus does not lay claim. That includes not only our actions, but also our emotions. When Christians remember this truth, that Jesus is Lord, it means that we are willingly acknowledging the reign of Jesus over our whole selves.

There is great significance here. To come adore on bended knee, Christ, the Lord, the new born king, we are acknowledging His authority. As such, Jesus can set whatever expectations He wants. He is the rightful King of the universe, the very Word of God, and the Creator of all things. Whether we recognize His authority or not really makes no difference; His authority over the world, and we who inhabit it, is an objective truth. So when Jesus comes to His followers and makes demands of an extreme nature, He has every right to do so.

As Lord, Jesus has the authority to tell us to leave everything behind and follow Him. He has the authority to demand that we sell everything and come with Him. He has the authority to tell us not to seek revenge but instead to forgive and pray for our enemies. He has the ultimate right to command.

But Jesus is not a naive leader; He is not an out of touch boss; He is not an aloof dignitary. Gloriously, Jesus is the one who has every right to issue any order He desires, and yet He is also the One who grasps better than we do the implications of any of those orders.

Jesus is the Lord who commands, but He’s also the Lord who understands.

This same One who calls us to leave all behind, to forsake the priorities of the world, to seek not earthly treasure, to forsake power and prestige, to give up our lives for the sake of the kingdom… this is the same One who understands all the temporal difficulty and pain that commitment might bring. What’s more, He’s the One who invites us not to suffer with our doubt, fear, or apprehension in silence, but instead to bring it to Him:

“For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who has been tempted in every way as we are, yet without sin. Therefore, let us approach the throne of grace with boldness, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in time of need” (Heb. 4:15-16).

He is more than our authority; Jesus is our friend. He is more than the One who commands; He’s the One who understands.

This is why we can not just bend the knee to His authority; we can adore Him while doing so.

Wednesday Links

Four links to some things you might have missed, or at least ones that caught my attention this past week:

1. Preparing for the Metaverse

By now, you’ve probably heard the term, but what is it? And how can you get ready for it, especially if you’re a parent?

2. Self-Worship is the Fastest Growing Religion

Though it might not be an “official” religion, it’s certainly the prevailing philosophy of the day. I am my own greatest authority and truth.

3. The Beauty and Dangers of Familiarity with God

Because we can be intimate with God, we should be familiar with him. But familiarity can also lead to presumptuous and neglect.

4. The Innkeeper

In this video, John Piper reads his wonderful little Christmas book. Enjoy.

How Silently, How Silently, the Wondrous Gift is Given!

“O Little Town of Bethlehem” has a wonderful story behind it.

It was Christmas Eve 1865 when Phillips Brooks was traveling on horseback between Jerusalem and Bethlehem. Reflecting on his journey, Brooks wrote:

“Before dark we rode out of town to the field where they say the shepherds saw the star. It is a fenced piece of ground with a cave in it, in which, strangely enough, they put the shepherds. . . . Somewhere in those fields we rode through, the shepherds must have been. As we passed, the shepherds were still ‘keeping watch over their flocks,’ or leading them home to fold.”

That night Brooks attended the Christmas Eve service in Constantine’s basilica which was built over the traditional site of Jesus’ birth. Apparently, the service lasted from 10 p.m. to 3 a.m. After all this, Brooks wrote song not for adults, but originally for the children who were part of the Sunday School at his parish at Holy Trinity Church in Philadelphia.

Isn’t that often the case? That which is good to teach children is excellent for teaching adults. And so it is with this song, which is not only sung, but also teaches us theologically. We are reminded in these lyrics that the birth of Jesus was not glamorous. It was not clean or pretty. It was the most ironic of births culminating in this backwater town.

The Christmas story is about the common being infused with the uncommon. The ordinary being invaded by the extraordinary. God born as a child. Every detail of the story drips with this theme – that this king is with us. One of us.

Listen to the words of the prophet that were written a thousand years before Jesus was born in Isaiah 53:

He grew up before him like a young plant
and like a root out of dry ground.
He didn’t have an impressive form
or majesty that we should look at him,
no appearance that we should desire him.
He was despised and rejected by men,
a man of suffering who knew what sickness was.
He was like someone people turned away from;
he was despised, and we didn’t value him.

Yet he himself bore our sicknesses,
and he carried our pains;
but we in turn regarded him stricken,
struck down by God, and afflicted.
But he was pierced because of our rebellion,
crushed because of our iniquities;
punishment for our peace was on him,
and we are healed by his wounds (Isaiah 53:2-5).

Think about it with me. Who was chosen to be the mother of this child? Not a queen. Not a person of prominence. An unremarkable, confused, and initially terrified 14-year-old girl. His father was not a man of great importance in the community – he was a stone mason, a common ordinary job.

As the ninth month approached, Mary and Joseph braced themselves for the reality that they would have to travel some 80 miles to a small town south of Jerusalem called Bethlehem, and that town would probably be where the child would be born. Nothing special there – just a community of shepherds and regular folks, nothing of notable size or importance except that it was the home of David centuries earlier. Those days were long gone by that point.

When the night finally came, there was certainly nothing special about that. No room at the inn, forced to find shelter in a cave with animals amidst the manure and the straw, laying the baby in a feeding trough. And who came to greet this great king? Shepherds. That was probably appropriate since they were the most common of common people, those lowest on the social ladder with no hope of changing their station in life.

Even the child’s name. Jesus. It means a lot to us, sure, but not to the people of that day. It had a great meaning – The Lord is Salvation. But it was strongly on the ordinary side. Half the kids in Hebrew school would be named Jesus. It would be the equivalent of being named “John” or “Joe” in this century.

And yet this is how God works. He infuses the ordinary with the extraordinary; the common with the uncommon. This child, who would not be extraordinarily tall, or handsome, or athletic, who would seem ordinary, is completely unique. And this child would be born into the most common of circumstances, a manger with everyday animals looking on, to completely ordinary parents, would redeem the world. Jesus comes into the ordinary and makes it extraordinary.

And He’s still doing it. He came into me, and into you, the most common of people, and made us uncommon. He made us children of God.

Yes, Bethlehem. You’re the right town. The right one for this kind of King.

Joy to the Earth! the Savior Reigns

As of the late 20th century, “Joy to the World” was the most-published Christmas hymn in North America, but it certainly didn’t start out that way. In fact, when Isaac Watts first wrote the lyrics in 1719 he didn’t even intend for it to be a song. Rather, he wrote a series of poems based on the psalms. But when he paraphrased the psalms, he chose to read into them the centrality of Jesus. “Joy to the World” was based on Psalm 98.

When Watts looked at Psalm 98, He saw a picture of Jesus as the rightful ruler of the whole world, and that’s the theme we see in “Joy to the World.” It has become a musical celebration of the kingship of Jesus. Notably, when you get to the second verse, you find this lyric: “Joy to the earth! The Savior reigns.”

This is present tense. The Savior reigns. Not “the Savior will reign someday.” And in this, we find a bit of pause, don’t we? Because we look around at the issues of the world, the examples of human suffering, the natural disasters, and yes, the depths of our own sin, we might well conclude that the Savior does not reign.

The Savior reigns? Over this? Over us? Over so many who deny His existence, and over so many circumstances that seem wildly out of control? Our senses would tell us that the throne of the universe is unoccupied.

And yet the Bible tells us something different. The Bible tells us that Jesus not will be, but is, the Lord and King. Jesus was crucified, buried, and then resurrected and ascended to the right hand of God where He remains. The Scriptural testimony is sure of this – that Jesus is Lord. The Lordship of Jesus is an objective reality, and yet one that we take by faith. This is our confession as Christians, and such is the very nature of faith, in that we believe that which we cannot see. We confess that which is contrary to what is observable by our senses.

There is a difference between the reality of the kingship of Jesus and the recognition of His authority by creatures like us. We believe that the kingdom has come. That the war has been won. That Jesus is on the throne. And yet we know that the kingdom is still coming. That the war is won, but the battles continue. And that there are many in the world who refuse to recognize His kingship. Such is our experience as Christians – we live in the already but the not yet. We live in the reality that Jesus is already the king, and yet is not yet fully recognized as such.

This is why advent, for the Christian, is about waiting. In a sense, we are waiting to celebrate the birth of Jesus, but in a greater sense, we are waiting for Jesus to return. We believe that the war for the future and the glory of God was won at the cross. And yet we are waiting. We are waiting for that victory to be fully realized in the new heaven and the new earth.

In the meantime, then, we make our confession again this Christmas by faith. We make it as a means of reminding ourselves, and each other, that Jesus is indeed King, right here, right now. So we boldly sing: “Joy to the earth. The Savior reigns!”

“Fear not, then,” said the angel, “Let nothing you affright…”

No one knows who wrote “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen,” but it has been sing since the 15th century. It was first published as a Christmas carol in 1833 as part of a collection by William B. Sandy called Christmas Carols Ancient and Modern. Not long after its publication, the song made an appearance in A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens as a song that incited the anger of Ebenezer Scrooge:

“…at the first sound of ‘God bless you merry, gentlemen, May nothing you dismay!” Scrooge seized the ruler with such energy of action that the singer fled in terror, leaving the keyhole to the fog and even more congenial frost.”

Clearly Scrooge didn’t feel the “tidings of comfort and joy” the song describes. Along with those tidings, the lyrics also record a version of what the shepherds, who were understandably terrified, heard when they angel appeared to them to announce the birth of Christ:

Fear not then, said the Angel
Let nothing you affright
This day is born a Savior
Of a pure Virgin bright
To free all those who trust in Him
From Satan’s pow’r and might
Oh tidings of comfort and joy

“Fear not.”

It’s a refrain that echoes over and over again in the pages of Scripture, a command given by God to His people. He said it to Abram when Abram wondered when he would see his promised heir. He said it to His people as they looked at the odds stacked against them in the Promised Land. He said it to Joshua as he prepared to take the mantle of leadership from Moses. The words echo through the psalms as a means of encouragement during worship. And again, here, we find the shepherds hearing the same command. It seems that God is very concerned about fear in His people – specifically, He is concerned with removing it from them. God does not want us to live in fear; indeed this is part of the ongoing work of the Holy Spirit in our lives:

For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but one of power, love, and sound judgment (2 Tim. 1:7).

Ever wondered why, though? Why is this commanded repeated so often? Why is God so concerned that fear is removed from the hearts of His people? Well, the most basic reason is because God loves us.

I think about all the times as a father I’ve cracked the closet door with the light on; all the times I’ve tested smoke alarms so my daughter can know they work; all the times we have fast forwarded through scary movie trailers on television; I have done these things because I love my children. And in my love, I do not want them to be afraid.

I, like any father, am just a shadow of the true Father. My love is woefully inadequate and incomplete compared with His great love. So, if we as sinful fathers, do not want our children to be afraid, how much more must our Heavenly Father? Not only that, but unlike us, our Heavenly Father can do much more than whisper assurances about fear; He can actually and completely guard the hearts and souls of all His children. God has loved us completely and fully in the gospel. And that love drives out our fear. But that’s not the only reason.

It’e true that part of God’s desire for His people to not live in fear is about us. It’s about our well-being, and about our spiritual transformation. But there is another even more important element at play here. That is, God’s own reputation. He commands that we not fear because He is concerned with His own glory.

Stop and think about how our fear reflects on the character of God. What are we saying about Him if we live in a state of fear? We are saying that the God we claim to serve, the One we claim sent His Son to die for us, actually does not love us enough to keep us from ultimate harm. Or we are saying that He is not powerful enough to keep us in Him. Or He is saying that this world with troubles filled can actually undo us, and not just threaten to. The reputation and glory of God is on display through our level of fear.

So fear not, Christian, let nothing you affright. Fear not, for you do not just have a God who claims to love you, but One who has demonstrated that love at the cross. Let His care, His power, and His glory wash over you and find that fear has a decreasingly small place in your soul.

Wednesday Links

Four links to some things you might have missed, or at least ones that caught my attention this past week:

1. Sin-Coddlers Are Not True Friends

True friends don’t settle for your sin. They love and accept you, but at the same time, push you further toward Jesus.

2. Social Media’s Anger Problem

There is a time and place for righteous anger, but chances are it’s not on social media.

3. Time is Short. Be Patient.

If we know time is short, then we think we need to rush. But the opposite is actually true.

4. Christmas Workout

Makes me cry. Every time.

 

He Hath Opened Heaven’s Door, and Man is Blessed Forevermore

“Good Christian Men, Rejoice” is an old Christmas carol dating all the way back to the 14th century. Heinrich Suso was a German nobleman who decided to become a priest. During this time, the average person had little interest in theology, nor could they understand the readings of the Bible as they were done in Latin. Suso disagreed.

The story goes that he had a dream in which he was countless angels who were singing and dancing. In the dream, Suso eventually joined in, and when he awoke, he claimed to not only remember the dream but also the music and the words. He sat down and wrote “Good Christian Men, Rejoice.” It was a controversial act because during that time, music was not written in the language of the people. Nor was it particularly celebratory. Suso wanted a song that was simple enough for a child to understand; one that emphasized the joy that comes from communion with God in Christ.

Is the story true? Who knows, but the sentiment behind the song certainly is. And here’s one line that is perfectly beautifully true:

He hath opened heaven’s door, and man is blessed forevermore…

It makes me think of a passage in Ephesians about walls. Chapter 2, verse 14 says:

“For He is our peace, who made both groups one and tore down the dividing wall of hostility.”

Before Christ, there were alot of walls. Some of them were physical and some were figurative. The physical walls were things like the wall that kept Gentiles from going deeper into the temple. The temple in Jerusalem was set up with barriers, preventing everyone but a select group of people from going further inside. Those barriers furthered the figurative barrier between Jews and Gentiles, creating the mindset that one group was closer, or more preferred, than the other.

But God isn’t a wall-builder; He’s a wall-breaker. That’s what Christ did. In one word, Christ provided access. That’s what verse 18 tells us:

“For through Him we both have access by one Spirit to the Father.”

Access.

And not just partial access, but access without restriction. Both groups. Anyone, through the Holy Spirit and the cross of Christ, has unhindered access to God. If feels like that should be a bigger word to me than it is.

But I have the question: If I have that kind of access, then why does my relationship with God still feel hindered sometimes? And the answer comes back: God doesn’t build walls. He tears them down. That’s what Christ did – He tore down the walls separating people from each other and those separating people from God.

That means any walls in my relationship with God aren’t put there by Him; they’re put there by me. Maybe you place them there as well. These are walls built on things like shame, guilt, insecurity, prayerlessness – these are all walls I build up. They are walls of my own making, not God’s. He granted access. And because He has given access, because in Christ heaven’s door has been opened to all who are willing to come, when we encounter a supposed wall, we don’t need to try and scale it.

That’s what we do sometimes – we try and scale these walls by our own effort. Our own holiness. Our own strength. As if we can prove to God that we actually do belong inside that heavenly door. And this is where the great irony comes again to us in the gospel, for there is nothing left to prove. God has already torn down the walls and opened the door. There is complete access, and all our feeble attempts to scale any walls we have put up inside that door result in even bigger ones.

No, we don’t need to scale walls because there aren’t any left. We must instead walk through these walls of our own making by faith, trusting that our passage through that door is not based on our own good but on what Jesus has done for us. And when we do, we will find ourselves, as the song says, rejoicing again and again.

Veiled in Flesh the Godhead See

The original lyrics to “Hark the Herald, Angels Sing” were written by Charles Wesley, brother of John Wesley, and was called “Hymn for Christmas-Day.” It was included in John Wesley’s collection called Hymns and Sacred Poemsthat was published in 1739.

The great evangelist George Whitefield adapted the lyrics in 1754, changing the opening line to “Hark! the Herald Angels sing” from the original, “Hark how all the Welkin rings.”

There is so much beauty in this song, but my favorite part comes in verse 2:

Veiled in flesh the Godhead see
Hail the incarnate Deity
Pleased as man with man to dwell
Jesus, our Emmanuel

The lyric reminds me of biblical truths like Colossians 2:9: “For the entire fullness of God’s nature dwells bodily in Christ, and you have been filled by Him, who is the head over every ruler and authority.” And the words of Jesus Himself in John 14:7: “If you know Me, you will also know My Father. From now on you do know Him and have seen Him.”

There are two fundamental questions for humanity to answer which all the rest of existence is based on: Who is God? What is He like? And the answer to both is found in the person of Jesus Christ. He is God Incarnate, the fullness of God veiled in flesh. But as the lyric points out, Jesus was pleased to dwell with men. It was not a mission He undertook with trepidation or doubt; He did not come to earth as a baby begrudgingly.

He was pleased to lay aside His glory for the glory of God and the souls of men and women. He is our Emmanuel – God with us. And in being with us, He also shows us that He is God for us. For in Jesus, we not only find a God who knows our every pain, temptation, and weakness, but One who has overcome them all in Himself. We do not follow a King that is far off, one who reigns from a distant palace at a great distance from the real life struggles of His subjects. We follow a King who is, in all senses, with us.

We are left, then, to echo the refrain that has become so familiar to us during the Christmas season:

“Glory to the newborn King!”

Word of the Father, Now in Flesh Appearing

“O Come All Ye Faithful.”

It was originally published in Latin in 1760 under the name “Adeste Fiedeles.” In 1745, John Francis Wade was caught up in the Jacobite Rising – a failed attempt by Charles Edward Stuart to regain control of Scotland. The battles eventually came to England and Wade because a refugee as a result. It’s possible that the original Latin version was actually a battle hymn of sorts, though in code, for those on the side of Stuart.

It’s the simplest of carols with the repeating refrain, “O come let us adore Him…” The chorus is lovely, and it’s not just for Christmas, for these few words really encapsulate the posture of worship. We are, time and time again, coming to adore Him.

Beyond that chorus, though, the third verse not only draws us into this posture of adoration, but also reminds us of the identity of the One whom we are adoring. It goes like this:

Yea, Lord, we greet Thee, Born this happy morning;
Jesus, to Thee be the glory giv’n;
Word of the Father, Now in the flesh appearing,
O come let us adore Him…

It reminds me of how the book of Hebrews opens: “Long ago God spoke to the fathers by the prophets at different times and in different ways. In these last days, he has spoken to us by His Son. god has appointed Him heir of all things and made the universe through Him” (Hebrews 1:1-2).

We do not serve a voiceless, nameless God, but One who is communicative with His people. And thank goodness He is.

Imagine, for a moment, what life would be like without a word. Imagine walking into a new school without a class schedule, a map, or an idea where the cafeteria is located. Imagine starting a new job when your manager didn’t explain fully the expectations of the role or how you can be successful or that on Fridays everyone wears sweatpants to the office. Imagine moving to a new city and having no one to tell you which part of town to live in, where to buy groceries, or where the closest park is. Imagine life without a word, and now imagine life without a word from God.

It’s aimless. Purposeless. Directionless. And very, very lonely.

This is the reality for many of us, not only because many don’t believe God has left us a word, but also because many others claim He has and yet live like He hasn’t. Think, for a minute, about how often as Christians we make some version of this statement:

“I just God would tell me His will about…”

Don’t get me wrong – I’ve never had God sky write me a message about what house to live in or spell out the name of the right job in my alphabet soup. So it’s not as if every decision we have to make it absolutely clear. But neither is it the case that God has not spoken. He has spoken, and His Word stands.

And because God has given us a word, we don’t need to look for another one.

One of the early heresies that permeated the church was something called gnosticism. Though it has many forms, much of it centers around the idea of having some kind of secret knowledge that’s only available to a select few. As we look around the evangelical today, I have to wonder if gnosticism is still out there, just wearing a different set of clothes:

Thinking we have discovered something new that no one else has ever discovered about God before.Looking for “deep” things outside the revelation of God.A sense of superiority because of some kind of unique relationship with God.

All of these traits and more stem from a disbelief in God’s revelation of Himself. They are all searching for some kind of ever elusive “else” that manifests itself into looking further and further out when we should be looking further and further in. Again, simply put – God has given us a word. And He is not going to contradict Himself.

Instead of moaning and searching, we can live with a sense of gratitude that although God could have left us to squander on our own, He did not. He chose to communicate with us. And He even went further than giving us His book; He gave us Himself. As we dig into the written Word of God, we find ourselves coming alongside the Living Word of God. And that’s where true life resides. Jesus is the final Word of the Father, now in flesh appearing.

Wednesday Links

Four links to some things you might have missed, or at least ones that caught my attention this past week:

1. The Haunting Effects of Sin

Surely you’ve felt it – the effects of sin are often not only immediate, but actually can last years into the future. Even so, God is at work in this lingering for our good.

2. Silence is Not Violence

We live in a time when everyone is expected to have a response to everything. Silence, though, is not necessarily violent in action. Sometimes it’s humility.

3. Sing When You’re Losing

Too often we treat singing only as celebration, but we should also recognize that singing is a means of lament and grief.

4. The Nicest Guy in Baseball

It’s Freddie Freeman, World Series Champ.