Justice & Hope

Welcome and Recap

Good morning, Cornerstone Fellowship!  Welcome back to our exploration of The Apostles’ Creed.  We are in week seven of this 12-week series.  Today, we wrap up the Second Person of the Trinity, about whom 6 of the 12 stanzas of our Creed are.  Literally half of it concerns the identity of Jesus—you could say it’s important, recall we started this series identifying those things about which we could agree to disagree, and those things that are essential doctrine; talking about traditioning, how do we pass along our faith, stewarding faithfully what we’ve received, lest it becomes something else.

From His incarnation and lordship to the tension expressed through the mystery of His divinity and humanity, His solidarity with us through sacrifice, conquering death through resurrection, His exaltation and intercession—today we address the tension through both our delivered and yet-to-come restoration.

Introduction

Today, we reach the climax of the second article: “He will come again to judge the living and the dead.”  We’ve been lifting up the name above every name, the One who turns graves into gardens and declares His beauty and authority over all.  Whose name one day every tongue will confess, history itself will bend knee to His throne.  This is justice wrapped in hope—eschatological accountability that leads to full restoration.  In a world aching for justice, this line declares: Christ returns not to destroy, but to make all things right, separating all that has entangled us so we can finally see ourselves as fully loved.

Recall, if you will, the aim of our series, finding ourselves in Jesus, not to reshape Him to fit our views.  Eschatology, the study of last things, has sparked debates—timelines, millennial views—but the Creed keeps it essential: Christ returns visibly to judge.  No speculation, just certainty.  And that certainly is good news.

Transition

Six of the first seven ecumenical councils address the nature, divinity, and personhood of the second person of the Trinity.  They defined the orthodox understanding of Christ’s nature against various heresies, saying, “This is what we believe; this is who we are.” 

I keep bringing up the Carl Trueman quote, that all Christians have creeds—they’re unavoidable.  “The difference is simply whether one adheres to a public confession.”  Private creeds and confessions, how you answer when someone asks, ‘what do you believe,’ if improvised, are not open to scrutiny, not susceptible to evaluation, or subject to testing by Scripture to see whether it is true.  So, Christians are not divided, as some believe to be the case; the division, rather, is between those who subscribe to written creeds.  Subject to scrutiny, susceptible to evaluation, and accountable to testing by Scripture.  More importantly, something we can preserve and pass on.  I want to camp out here, but this is really the work of the Holy Spirit, which starts next week, so let us look at Acts 19.

Illustration

In Acts 19, we read about seven sons of Sceva—Jewish exorcists who saw Paul casting out demons in the name of Jesus.  They thought they could borrow the same power.  So, they tried it: “In the name of Jesus whom Paul preaches, I command you to come out.” The demon answered, “Jesus, I know, and Paul I know about, but who are you?” Then the possessed man jumped on them, overpowered them all, beat them bloody, and the seven sons ran out of the house naked and bleeding.

This begs a question we ought ask ourselves:  Which Jesus did you receive?

Is it the second-hand Jesus—the one you heard about from someone else, the baby-in-the-manger Jesus with Santa and sentimental Christmas cards; the cultural figure who stays safely small and never demands your whole life?  Or is it the full Christ—the ascended King, the Kinsman-Redeemer, the Judge who is also the light of the world, full of grace and truth?

While they’re both God of the Universe, it’s like the difference between a unit’s medic, and being ‘Doc,’ or Soldiers referring to the chaplain assigned to our unit, versus “my chaplain.”

In the absence of a relationship, it doesn’t change who Jesus is—but it changes how He interacts within and affects your life.

A second-hand Jesus has no authority when the real test comes.  He’s powerless against darkness, sin, and the coming judgment.  The demons don’t tremble at a borrowed name.  But the full Christ—the One who reclaims dominion, who returns to judge the living and the dead—has all authority in heaven and on earth.  When He returns, every knee will bow.  The question is: Have you received Him personally, intimately, as the Lord who knows you, has called you, by name, apart from eternity, has numbered the hairs on your head, and is coming back for you?         

We ask ourselves this because, sure, we can look at others, but that isn’t very helpful for us who are on this sanctification journey, becoming Christlike.  So, if we are to take away anything from this message, we need to look at ourselves: which Jesus have I received?  Maybe I met him once, but something in my life has taken his place.  Good thing we’re in Lent then, isn’t it?!  This is the time to cast it out!

And that’s at the heart of what Judgement is all about.  Because there aren’t two different gods, a god of wrath and a god of grace.  The same God who loves and created us loves and created others.  He doesn’t take a different approach.  Scripture tells us there is no division within God.  “God is light, and in him there is no darkness at all” (1 John 1:5).  The one face of God is revealed in Jesus.  In the same way, light shines on everyone, but people respond differently to it.  Some walk gladly into the light while others cover their eyes and remain in darkness.

The judgment that Christ brings is not helpful, I don’t think, if we regard it as just a division between two kinds of people.  If we are to apply it to ourselves and take something away, we have to look at it as it applies to us.  When Christ’s light shines into our lives, it creates a division within ourselves.  None of us is entirely good or bad, but a mixture.  The bad grows up in our lives like weeds among the wheat, and becomes entwined.

The confession that Christ will come as judge is not an expression of terror and doom.  It is part of the good news of the gospel.  It is a comfort to know that one day Jesus, someone who understands all the complexities and ambiguities of our lives, will come.  The only one who is truly competent to judge—full of grace and truth—coming to lovingly separate the good from the bad in our lives.  Jesus said it is “The thief [who] comes to steal and kill and destroy.  [He] came that [we] may have life and have it abundantly” (John 10:10).

Illustration I have a friend, Lance Hohenstreet, who tells this story of one of his friends in ministry who inherited an AMC Rambler from his aging grandmother, who couldn’t drive anymore.  None of the other grandkids wanted it because it was Grandma’s old car, and it was a slow piece of junk—so they thought.  So, he takes it, cleans it up, replaces the spark plugs, and tunes it.  It was still sluggish.  He thought, ‘It’s got a V8, the math isn’t adding up.’  So, he took it to a shop—dyno said it should scream.  Can’t figure out why it’s so powerless. 

 Finally, he’s up under the dash, and this is a classic car, so there’s no reclining or moving the seats; they’re bucket seats, bolted to the floor—you have to sit with your legs up over the headrest, upside down.  And he’s looking at the accelerator, underneath was this little black thing—something he didn’t recognize, and he started messing with it, and it came loose. 

It was a wooden spool that had just turned black over the years of being underneath there.  He calls his grandfather and shows him, of course, he says, hesitantly, “…I think I should put it back; if it’s there, you don’t want to take it out, it probably belongs there.” He goes, “No, it’s a wooden spool!  It’s not supposed to be there.”  Grandma was an avid knitter; she must have dropped an empty spool, and it had gotten wedged under the accelerator pedal years ago.  Blackened, forgotten, everyone else probably thought it belonged, so they never took it out, but it was blocking the full throttle.

So, he takes it out, cranks it up.  And he said he laid rubber to the end of the driveway!  And you know what he did first thing?  He said the first thing he did was drive to his brother’s house, the one who didn’t want the car.  “It was a piece of junk.”  He goes, “Hey, check this out.”  His brother gets in, and he said they peeled out of there and left rubber down his driveway, too!  So, his brother is like, “Hey, grandpa said I could have that car.” The younger brother reminded him, “No, you said you didn’t want the car!”

The spool didn’t rob the engine of power—it robbed the driver of access.  We all have access to the full power and authority of the ascended, returning Christ.  The Spirit guarantees it.  The cross purchased it.  His return will complete it.  But many of us have a “spool” under the pedal—something blocking full throttle.  Pride.  Ungratefulness.  Secret sin.  Fear.  Wrong priorities.  Associations that pull us into darkness.  Whatever it is, it doesn’t diminish God’s power.  It diminishes our access to it, as in the case of the sons of Sceva, who settle for a second-hand Jesus, and it affects how Jesus can interact with and affect our lives.  It doesn’t rob Jesus of authority; it robs us of access.

We read in Luke 10:19, when Jesus sent out the seventy-two, he said, “I have given you authority to trample on snakes and scorpions and to overcome all the power of the enemy; nothing will harm you.”              

In Matthew 10:1, when Jesus commissions the Twelve, it says, “He gave them authority over unclean spirits, to drive them out and to heal every disease and sickness.”            

When Jesus appears to His Disciples in John 20:21-23, he says to them, “…As the Father has sent me, I am sending you.” 22 And with that, he breathed on them and said, “Receive the Holy Spirit.  23 If you forgive anyone’s sins, their sins are forgiven; if you do not forgive them, they are not forgiven.”

Now, please don’t go handling snakes.  I want to be clear: these Scriptures are not prescriptive—they are descriptive of events that happened at a specific place and time.  But Jesus does say in His Great Commission, “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me.  19 Therefore go… (Matthew 28:18b-19a),” and in John 16:23-24, “Truly I tell you, anything you ask the Father in my name, he will give you.  24 Until now, you have asked for nothing in my name.  Ask, and you will receive, so that your joy may be complete.”  Now, is that descriptive or prescriptive?  That depends on which Jesus you’ve received.  It’s prescriptive, it’s what we’re still here for—this is the mission of God’s Church on earth.  But—it depends on whatever it is that diminished God’s power in your life and robs you of your access.

God didn’t say, well, I gave you a little bit of power, and we’ll see how you do with it.  No, God says, I’m giving you all power, and because of that, you can do whatever I command you to do.  Go because I gave you this power, share My love, embody My presence, bear My likeness, and serve as hands and feet of My church, teaching, discipling, baptizing.  How good are we doing at that?  And this is why we need to look at ourselves.  It’s not about everyone else.  “[He’s] com[ing] again to judge the living and the dead.” 

Point 1

The first step is understanding that there’s a spool.  It’s there.  But you wouldn’t get into your bucket seats upside down with your feet over the headrests to look up underneath your dashboard unless you’re looking for that something that’s keeping you from accessing what God has for you.  The point of our Lenten season is to look!  Prepare yourselves for the coming Lord!  Why else did our forefathers preserve this truth, “[He’s] com[ing] again to judge the living and the dead,” but to make sure you’re prepared?

Point 2

So, step one, understand there’s a spool, step two, understand that, likely, it will be bigger than what you can do on your own—because guess what?  God wants fellowship.  Every time the Israelites got what they wanted, they stopped pursuing Him.  God doesn’t give us the power to take care of sin on our own; that’s the lie of the devil.

John 15:7 says, “If you remain in me and my words remain in you, ask whatever you wish, and it will be done for you.”  God wants His will accomplished.

Men can do difficult things.  God can handle impossible things.  You have way more power than a V8 in you, but spools the size of Texas.  And whatever it is, it’s stealing all your power, and your joy, and your victory.  The Lord said, “Come, trust me.  Take your cares and concerns to him.”  He says, “My yoke is easy, and my burden is light” (Matt 11:30).

Application

You don’t get that comfort with a second-hand Jesus.  And because you don’t have His comfort, you can’t give what you don’t have.  When you haven’t experienced Jesus, and maybe for some, perhaps it’s just been a while since you’ve received Him, when you haven’t experienced Jesus, you don’t have His authority; like the sons of Sceva, no power, no defense, no hope. 

Transition

Now, to be fair, the Creed’s original wording “judge the living and the dead” does concern corporate judgement and final dispositions—it includes the separation of people, sheep/goats, wheat/and weeds, as well as the purification of believers; I simply don’t want to fixate on others, and I cannot possibly think of how that is helpful to you.  As Saint Franis of Assisi instructs, “Preach the Gospel at all times; when necessary, use words,” so to, Jesus tells us, “By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, [the judgement you pronounce on one-another calling it “love, not by word or by speech, but by action and in truth—under some guise of witnessing?”] No!  Jesus says, “if you love one another” (John 13:35).  So, I have presented this week’s reflection on judgement not as God judges us, but how we each ought respond—by being merciful to one another, and removing the log from out own eyes.  In hope that we each can Proclaim the Gospel at all times, not hypocritically, but lovingly, using words if necessary.  And most importantly, from what we have received first from God!

Close

I’ll end with this, but I have another friend in ministry, Ben Goodman, who once said, ”Imagine, for a minute—you’re attending a chocolate festival.” You get an itinerary, plan out your route through all the sections, the booths you want to see, there’s Lindt, Cadbury, Ghirardelli, Dove, Russel Stover, Godiva, European stuff we can’t pronounce—there’s see a panel of world renown chocolatiers, who talk about the finer points of the craft, there are pairing lectures, books for sale with recipes for cooking with chocolate, you sing ode’s to cocoa; “Chocolate, Chocolate, Chocolate… dark, white, and milk” [to the tune of Holy, Holy, Holy].  Imagine coming home and trying to describe that experience to someone who had never had chocolate—even more so now—imagine trying to describe your experience if you yourself had never tasted chocolate.   That’s what second-hand Jesus is like. 

Because, after six stanzas about who Jesus was and what He did, the Creed doesn’t end with, ‘and He lives in our hearts forever.’ It ends with forward momentum: He’s coming back to finish what He started.” This is why the Church Fathers bothered to include this line in our Creed at all.

 “[He’s] com[ing] again to judge the living and the dead.”