Life is Good

If you were my sister, you would—in or around most lunch breaks—hear me say something akin to this, “You know something, Laura. Life is good.” To which observation you would probably reply, “Man, you always say that.” And I would come back with, “That’s because it is” or some such remark, thus terminating the subject until future lunch breaks.  

Going on the assumption that you are not my sister, I feel the necessity of repeating the afore said statement to you. Life is thoroughly good. I have a great brother and sister, first-rate parents, awesome friends, a wonderful church, no serious physical problems, a good education, and the enumeration could go on long after you had finished reading.

But you are probably thinking, “OK, your life is good. You just got born at the right time and place. But what about my life, huh?” Well, I agree, those are only surface reasons. I wholeheartedly believe that life would be good even without them, because the real reason life is good is that death is good. Actually, the term “death” is misleading. I really mean life after death, or eternal life for a believer. And that, of course, is only good because of the grace of God in saving us from the power sin and death by His son. When Christ died, He secured the salvation of all those that He would take as His bride when this world ends. Look at Revelation 19:7.

“ ‘Let us rejoice and be glad and give the glory to Him, for the marriage of the Lamb has come and His bride has made herself ready.’ And it was given to her to clothe herself in fine linen, bright and clean; for the fine linen is the righteous acts of the saints. And he said to me, “Write, ‘Blessed are those who are invited to the marriage supper of the Lamb.’ ” And he said to me, “These are true words of God.” ”  

“Blessed are those who are invited to the marriage supper of the Lamb.” That’s us! We have been invited. And not just invited—we are the bride, clothed in fine linen, and prepared to marry the Bridegroom for the rest of eternity. You can’t tell me that life isn’t good. My whole existence from now to forever just gets better with time.

Sometimes I think that people worry about the woes of this world a little too much. I don’t mean that we should not fight evil and stand for what is right. We most certainly should. Stopping abortion and similar outrages is very right. But, in the end (or maybe I should say the beginning), I think we will wish we spent less time trying to get people to say “Merry Christmas” and more time enjoying God’s work and anticipating His coming.

One more thought. I am an avid reader of books, and have never had any trouble completely losing myself in a story. I don’t know if you have ever wished (not really caring how unrealistic the wish might be) that you could be in a story like those, or step into some other world like Narnia or Middle Earth and have “adventures.” Well, I have. But I am starting realize that those wishes are totally unnecessary. If you step back and look at it, those wishes have come true. I double dare you to find any better “worlds” than the present one and the one to come. Or any better “adventures” than we, as Christians, are having and will have for the rest of eternity.

Maybe I have said this too much already, but, just so you will remember it, I will say one more time—life is good.            

  

Fasting for the Glory of God

This is a kind of summary of A Hunger for God by John Piper—or, as much of a summary as is possible on one and a half pages. My main goal is to get you to read the book and, more importantly, to consider the issue—fasting.  

Piper begins by facing the question “Is fasting Christian?” The answer is not obvious. That fasting is a large component of almost all other religions should alone make us think. It also has been used for health reasons and political purposes (such as Mahatma Gandhi’s passive resistance). And the confusion is compounded when we see the Apostle Paul’s various warnings against asceticism. For an answer, Piper turns us to Matthew 9:14-17.

“The disciples of John came to [Jesus], saying, ‘Why do we and the Pharisees fast, but Your disciples do not fast?’ And Jesus said to them,  ‘The attendants of the bridegroom cannot mourn as long as the bridegroom is with them, can they? But the days will come when the bridegroom is taken away from them, and then they will fast. But no one puts a patch of unshrunk cloth on an old garment; for the patch pulls away from the garment, and a worse tear results. Nor do men put new wine into old wineskins; otherwise the wineskins burst, and the wine pours out, and the wineskins are ruined; but they put new wine into fresh wineskins, and both are preserved.’ ”  

The first word picture Christ uses is that of a wedding. The ministry years of Christ were a time of joy for the disciples. The Bridegroom was with them. It was time to feast, not to mourn. “But the days will come” Christ says, “when the bridegroom is taken away from them, and then they will fast.” When are those days? John Piper says they are here.

“[By fasting] we look to the future with aching hearts saying: ‘Yes, he came. And yes, what he did for us is glorious. But precisely because of what we have seen and what we have tasted, we feel keenly his absence as well as his presence. The Bridegroom has gone away. He is not here. He was here, and he loved us to the uttermost. And we can eat and even celebrate with feasting because he has come. But this we also know: he is not here the way he once was. As Paul said, “While we are at home in the body we are absent from the Lord.” And his absence is painful. The sin and misery of the world is painful. The people of Christ are weak and despised—like sheep in the midst of wolves (Matthew 10: 16). We long for him to come again and take up his throne and reign in our midst and vindicate his people and his truth and his glory.’ ”

Secondly, Christ uses a picture of an unshrunk cloth on old garments and new wine in old wineskins. Piper believes that these are a call to new fasting. The new wine is the presence of God’s kingdom. The Messiah has come. The mystery is revealed. And this new wine calls for new fasting. Not the old fasting of the Jews before Christ. No, that was a fasting out of emptiness, longing for the first coming of God. This is not a fasting because we are empty, but a fasting because we have tasted and long to taste more.

Fasting is a declaration of our hunger for God and not for food. In these times of physical discomfort, we find by what truly satisfy our hearts—God, or His gifts. I do not mean that it is wrong to love God’s gifts, but that, ultimately, we love Him far more than them.

Throughout the book, there is a continual warning. It comes from Matthew 6:16-18.

“Whenever you fast, do not put on a gloomy face as the hypocrites do, for they neglect their appearance in order to be seen fasting by men. . . . But you, when (notice when, not if) you fast, anoint your head, and wash your face so that you may not be seen by men, but by your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will repay you.”

The warning is obvious: do not fast to be seen by men, but fast to be seen by God, and God will reward you. Why will God reward you? Because true fasting glorifies Him.

“The final answer is that God rewards fasting because fasting expresses the cry of the heart that nothing on the earth can satisfy our souls besides God. God must reward this cry because God is most glorified in us when we are most satisfied in Him.”
        

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