Honor widows who are truly widows.

(1 Timothy 5.3)

These words begin a set of instructions for the church to financially support its worthy widows.  This principle showed up in the early days of the church, when there was a “daily distribution” for them (Ac 6.1ff), but it wasn’t new then, either.  In the Law of Moses God proclaimed that “He executes justice for the fatherless and the widow, and loves the sojourner, giving him food and clothing” (De 10.18). This principle undergirds several commandments, including the following:

“When you reap your harvest in your field and forget a sheaf in the field, you shall not go back to get it. It shall be for the sojourner, the fatherless, and the widow, that the Lord your God may bless you in all the work of your hands.”

(Deuteronomy 24.19)

But the specific application in Christ’s kingdom is more reminiscent of God’s instructions to Israel regarding their tithes:

“At the end of every three years you shall bring out all the tithe of your produce in the same year and lay it up within your towns. And the Levite, because he has no portion or inheritance with you, and the sojourner, the fatherless, and the widow, who are within your towns, shall come and eat and be filled, that the Lord your God may bless you in all the work of your hands that you do.”

(Deuteronomy 14.28-29)

Those who dedicate their lives to serving in the church have a right to “get their living by the gospel” (1Co 9.14)—corresponding to Israel’s Levites; and the church ought to care for its members who face pressing physical need—corresponding to “the sojourner, the fatherless, and the widow.”  But lest we all begin seeking a handout, Paul continues:

But if a widow has children or grandchildren, let them first learn to show godliness to their own household and to make some return to their parents, for this is pleasing in the sight of God.

(1 Timothy 5.4)

He gives further stipulations regarding who should be “enrolled” (v9), dealing with each widow’s particular circumstances and prior habits.  It’s not intended as the default option, but rather to provide for a select few.

When the church was established, of course, there were no social services sponsored by local, state, or federal governments, to provide a baseline income for the less fortunate.  In our country, the Social Security program goes without saying—although for how much longer it is unclear.  This program began in 1935, and payments began at age 65.  At the time, life expectancy in the USA was about 61 years.  Plenty of people lived well past this age, of course, but the idea was that workers would continue working until they either died, or were no longer physically capable of earning their living.  Today, life expectancy is nearly 79 years, and recipients can start receiving benefits as young as age 62!  This means that, instead of taking care of the relatively rare cases in which a person outlives his useful working life, we generally assume the public will pay for 15 years or more of each person’s declining years.

Leaving aside questions about whether such a scheme is sustainable, now let’s consider the ancient world of pre-1935, and specifically the situation in the Mediterranean in the first century AD.  Men and women both worked, but in very different spheres.  Both would earn money, but men could make far more, due to greater physical strength and consequent job sorting, as well as mothers’ primary job, managing the household, which was indispensable, but brought the family no direct income.  If a woman’s husband died, she could be left in quite a pickle, and most would look to remarry.  What if she were too old to remarry?  Surely her relatives would help out!  But what if she had none?  That could be a difficult situation, indeed!

Our word, widow, and the Greek χῆρα-chēra both have a precise meaning, but both originally come from the more general idea of bereavement—hence Paul’s “truly widows” comment in 1 Timothy 3.3.  He didn’t mean to diminish the widowhood of the woman whose husband died, but whose children remained; rather, he meant that such a woman was not entirely bereft of family and providers.  In cases where a devout woman was totally alone and destitute, the church was to provide, in the same way another widow’s earthly family might all chip in to make sure their great-aunt Betty has food, shelter, and clothing.

In a way, it’s good that society has learned enough from Christianity to implement this kind of charity in widespread fashion; but on the other hand, when it’s done by forcibly taking money from the unwilling, it’s far less meaningful than when it’s a gesture of love.  When it’s treated as an entitlement rather than a gift, it encourages the taxed and the recipient of their taxes to resent each other—and it gives the children of aging parents a convenient excuse to dishonor father and mother!  It makes it hard for contributors to give cheerfully to support people from whom they are totally disconnected, and on top of it all, it undercuts the church’s need to show love, because the state can handle it, instead!

This issue is complex in our modern world, and it gets too little attention.  But although these instructions from God often find no clear opportunity for direct implementation, they still teach us about our responsibilities, and encourage us to deliberately find ways to love brothers and sisters in need.

Religion that is pure and undefiled before God the Father is this: to visit orphans and widows in their affliction, and to keep oneself unstained from the world.

(James 1.17)

Jeremy Nettles

When the seventh month came, and the children of Israel were in the towns, the people gathered as one man to Jerusalem. Then arose Jeshua the son of Jozadak, with his fellow priests, and Zerubbabel the son of Shealtiel with his kinsmen, and they built the altar of the God of Israel, to offer burnt offerings on it, as it is written in the Law of Moses the man of God. They set the altar in its place, for fear was on them because of the peoples of the lands, and they offered burnt offerings on it to the Lord, burnt offerings morning and evening. And they kept the Feast of Booths, as it is written…

(Ezra 3.1-4)

The returning exiles were excited to rebuild the temple.  This was no small task, and they had to start somewhere.  Before the temple itself, and even before its foundation, they undertook to construct the altar in its proper place.  This allowed them to begin properly keeping laws that had fallen into disuse. 

It’s fitting that they built the altar first, and that it took place in the seventh month.  Counterintuitively, this was the start of the Jews’ calendar year—although the religious year began in the first month.  Thus, while the Law established the first day of the seventh month as “a day for you to blow the trumpets” (Nu 29.1), over the centuries it came to be named Rosh Hashanah, or “head of the year.”  Nine days later came the Day of Atonement (or Yom Kippur), which was the annual observance of a ritual of purification for the priesthood, the populace, and their place of worship.  But that’s not all!  “On the fifteenth day of this seventh month and for seven days is the Feast of Booths to the Lord” (Le 23.34).  Coinciding with the end of the year’s harvest season, this festival was a time to remember God’s blessings given over the previous year, as well as to camp out in temporary dwellings—booths—in memory of their forefathers’ wilderness wandering.

This means the Israelites had three major holidays in the space of 21 days, culminating in a weeklong celebration during which each Israelite male was supposed to “appear before the Lord your God at the place that he will choose” (De 16.16).  This is fairly similar to our own culture’s holiday season, beginning with Thanksgiving, and followed a month or so later by Christmas and New Year’s Day.  There are major differences, of course—the primary one being that God didn’t ordain any of our holidays.  But we can all imagine the Jews’ rush to complete the preparations for their altar, not to mention the numerous gifts they brought to God, to match the occasion!  We can sympathize with them, as they surely ran into unexpected delays, shortages, and other roadblocks, which threatened to ruin their plans, and distracted their focus away from their reasons for celebrating.  We can imagine how much this mattered to them, even though they fully expected another holiday season to arrive in just a year’s time.

For the Israelites, this particular holiday season represented a return to a way of life their parents and grandparents had related to them, but one which most of them had themselves never known.  They grew up in foreign lands, but learned of their nation’s history, God, temple, and rituals; of their sin and punishment; and of God’s promise to restore them to their homeland and the society he’d designed for them.  In exile, they’d celebrated their feasts, as best they could.  But now, although the restoration was incomplete, they had the opportunity to observe them properly, in the place God had chosen, to make his name dwell there.  This served as a symbol of things to come.  They were excited to obey God’s commandments, and to draw nearer to the ideal God had envisioned for them, a thousand years prior.

This episode in Israel’s history is uplifting for Christians today, because we sympathize with Israel throughout the Old Testament.  In part, it is also because we see in Israel’s restoration a shadow of God’s plans for humanity, and more specifically, for us! 

Then everyone who survives of all the nations that have come against Jerusalem shall go up year after year to worship the King, the Lord of hosts, and to keep the Feast of Booths. And if any of the families of the earth do not go up to Jerusalem to worship the King, the Lord of hosts, there will be no rain on them. And if the family of Egypt does not go up and present themselves, then on them there shall be no rain; there shall be the plague with which the Lord afflicts the nations that do not go up to keep the Feast of Booths.

(Zechariah 14.16-18)

God always wanted to redeem all the nations, not just Israel, from sin and slavery.  He did this through his Son, whom he crowned King in Jerusalem—both the earthly and heavenly cities!  Now, we observe a lifelong Feast of Booths, in which we give thanks daily for the physical and spiritual harvest God provides, and patiently endure our own period of living in temporary dwellings in the desert while we await the promised rest, in God’s presence.

In the meantime we also have holidays instituted by men, and sometimes struggle to discern how we ought to approach these.

One person esteems one day as better than another, while another esteems all days alike. Each one should be fully convinced in his own mind. The one who observes the day, observes it in honor of the Lord.

(Romans 14.5-6)

Whatever your choice regarding our own holiday season, do it in honor of the Lord—first, be sure to observe the feast God has prescribed, on the first day of each week!  Then, if you wish to keep the traditions of men, do your best to redeem them for Christ, and observe them in a way that honors him and foreshadows the blessings he has promised.

Jeremy Nettles

For who knows a person’s thoughts except the spirit of that person, which is in him? So also no one comprehends the thoughts of God except the Spirit of God.

(1 Corinthians 2.11)

In our present age of “spiritual but not religious” people, full of weird ideas and New Age-y drivel that hijacks the vocabulary of Jesus and his Apostles, and uses it in an ill-advised attempt to justify debased behavior that in reality appeals only to the flesh and not the spirit, it is understandable that grounded Christians are often uncomfortable with passages like this one.  In fact, even when Paul wrote this, the word, spirit, was doing a lot of heavy lifting, used in a wide variety of distinct ways.  The Greek word behind our English spirit is πνεῦμα-pneuma, and you can easily see that it serves as the core of many other words, like pneumatic, and pneumonia.  This is because it refers, most literally, to wind.  From there you can see the small jump to signify the breath of a living creature, and in turn the jump to mean what we might call the animating life-force of that creature.  In fact, the equivalent word in Latin is anima, which you can see is the basis of animate, as used in the previous sentence, and also of animal—the idea being that an animal is something that breathes. 

But we’re not done; from there, another small leap brings us to a higher level  of abstraction, in which the spirit is more than the nexus of life and breath, but instead refers to the immaterial aspects of a human being.  We know that there is more to a person than a amorphous blob of chemicals shifting around according to random chance and by pure coincidence interfering, at times, with other such blobs of chemicals.  Yet whatever this distinction is, it ends with death.  When the spirit goes out of a body, it does, in fact, become a meaningless blob of chemicals.  Thus, we think of the spirit—and more importantly, God’s word speaks of it—as the seat of our inner life and will, as well as emotion.  Modern science would generally associate these things with the brain, not the breath.  In fact, many of the ancients had a clearer understanding of the brain’s purpose than is usually accredited to them; but more importantly, modern neuroscience still has no idea what to do with the amazing phenomenon we sometimes call consciousness—in other words, the spirit, or at least part of it.

But as Paul wrote, no other human being knows your thoughts, like you know your thoughts.  Your spirit holds them securely, even when your intellect struggles to articulate them sufficiently well for another person to understand the same thoughts.  And what is Paul’s point in bringing this up?  That God is the same.  His Spirit knows his innermost self intimately.  Why does this matter?

Now we have received not the spirit of the world, but the Spirit who is from God, that we might understand the things freely given us by God. And we impart this in words not taught by human wisdom but taught by the Spirit, interpreting spiritual truths to those who are spiritual.

(1 Corinthians 2.12-13)

God has given us his Spirit!  Many people throughout the ages have professed to understand God, and Paul’s point is that any meaningful understanding of the depths of God is impossible, if it is pursued according to human wisdom.  From where, then, does it come?  From his Spirit, who alone truly knows God.  How are we supposed to get this Spirit?

“And it shall come to pass afterward,

        that I will pour out my Spirit on all flesh;

your sons and your daughters shall prophesy,

        your old men shall dream dreams,

        and your young men shall see visions.

Even on the male and female servants

        in those days I will pour out my Spirit.”

(Joel 2.28-29)

This was, of course, fulfilled on the day of Pentecost that followed Christ’s death, burial, and resurrection, as the Apostle Peter pointed out to his audience that day (Ac 2.16ff).  Paul received the Spirit later, and passed on this gift to the new Christians in Corinth.  This is his point in the letter we’ve been examining: his audience has access to the Spirit of God, and yet they have been foolishly pursuing the obviously defective human wisdom that never yielded any substantial spiritual benefit before!

Surely we would never do such a thing today, right?  How is it any different, when a professed Christian explains away disfavored portions of God’s word?  Who knows God better—his own Spirit, or today’s supposedly enlightened western mind?  Why is it that most of the prominent, public voices presuming to speak for God, are content to reject what God’s own book says about topics like sexual mores, marriage, racial grievance, basic justice in society and in war, and a host of other topics?  Why is it that they so often agree instead with the avowed atheists?  Have they received “the Spirit who is from God,” or “the spirit of the world?”

The Christian must not conform to the world, but rather to Christ.  This does not include making dubious assertions about what Jesus would have said, were he alive today.  The chief reason for this, is that Jesus is alive today!  And he does speak today!  His message is no different from what he said nearly two thousand years ago, for “Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever” (He 13.8).  Much of what animates today’s supposedly Christian discourse in the public sphere is a desire to be accepted by the world.  We all share this desire; but it stands in conflict with the cross.  Jesus told his disciples, “If they persecuted me, they will also persecute you” (Jn 15.20).  Which is better: fellowship with a dying world, or fellowship with the eternal Spirit of God?

Jeremy

We’re several installments into a series examining the oft-used but seldom-defined word, gospel.  We’ve dispensed with the notion that it’s some kind of magic ritual or talisman, and instead focused on the recurring pattern of descent into darkness and death, followed by ascent into light and life.  God has used this pattern over and over, and he demonstrated it most clearly in his Son, both in his sojourn on this earth before returning to his rightful home in heaven, and in his death, burial, and resurrection, which was the culmination of his earthly ministry.  We considered in a past installment one passage in which the Apostle Paul discusses this same point, recalling how Jesus “was in the form of God,” and yet

did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross. Therefore God has highly exalted him and bestowed on him the name that is above every name, so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.

(Philippians 2.6-11)

The fact of Jesus’ earthly descent and ascent fulfills and validates his heavenly descent and ascent.  As Paul makes very clear, the ascent was in neither case merely a return to the prior circumstance—otherwise, what would be the point, if no lasting benefit resulted from the process?  When Jesus ascended, he was granted a new and glorious name.  Whereas his identity, and in some measure his very existence, has been deliberately hidden from the foundation of the world until his advent on this earth, now he is proclaimed across the whole world as King of Kings and Lord of Lords (cf. Re 19.16).  In short, the benefit far outweighed the cost.

But what does any of that matter to us?  Well, what did Paul say, just before that theologically dense and intricate statement about Jesus’ descent and ascent?

Have this mind among yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God,

(Philippians 2.5)

nevertheless plunged into this fallen world, in pursuit of the worthiest of all goals.  While the passage provides ample fodder for minor doctrinal points, it would be a disastrous—and all too common—mistake to neglect the commandment Paul constructed it to serve!  We are to imitate Christ, in emptying ourselves of the things we think we deserve, and in some cases really do deserve.  We are to consciously go to our own deaths.  But why?  For a reason comparable to Jesus’: having humbled ourselves completely before God, we stand to receive a reward that mimics the one he gave to his Son.

But as we’ve noted in previous installments, this death, burial, and resurrection, in imitation of Jesus, takes place, of course, at a believer’s baptism!

Do you not know that all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death? We were buried therefore with him by baptism into death, in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might walk in newness of life.

        For if we have been united with him in a death like his, we shall certainly be united with him in a resurrection like his.

(Romans 6.3-5)

It’s right there, in black and white!  When we act out Jesus’ death, burial and resurrection, in the symbolic act of burial in water—a method by which God repeatedly demonstrated this same pattern in the Old Testament, let’s remember—we are spiritually joining Christ in death, and therefore can reasonably look forward to joining him in an eternal resurrection, too!

But is that all it means?  Of course not!  As in the Philippians passage, Paul here uses a beautifully clear articulation of something already commonly understood, to explain a commandment:

So you also must consider yourselves dead to sin and alive to God in Christ Jesus.

        Let not sin therefore reign in your mortal body, to make you obey its passions.

(Romans 6.11-12)

That singular occasion of death, burial, and resurrection in baptism must resonate and be acted out daily!  Despite being transferred into the kingdom of heaven, the newly-baptized believer still has to live, for now, in the world, in a body of flesh susceptible to all manner of temptation.  This is why Paul brought up the Christian’s prior death to sin. 

For you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God. When Christ who is your life appears, then you also will appear with him in glory.

        Put to death therefore what is earthly in you: sexual immorality, impurity, passion, evil desire, and covetousness, which is idolatry. On account of these the wrath of God is coming.

(Colossians 3.3-6)

Paul’s not talking to unbelievers, encouraging them to put earthly things to death by being baptized—he’s telling Christians to keep killing these earthly inclinations, because our journey toward God is ongoing!  He says the same in Ephesians 4.22, 2 Corinthians 4.11, Galatians 5.24, Romans 8.13, and other passages far too numerous to list here.  So what does it mean, to obey the gospel?  As we discussed in a recent article, baptism is a major act of obedience to the gospel; but it must not stop there!  Obeying the gospel is a continual, daily endeavor.

“If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me.”

(Luke 9.23)

Jeremy Nettles

The past four weeks’ articles have been something of a deep dive into defining and better understanding the gospel that the Bible always talks about.  It’s not a magical ritual that puts hidden powers at the command of men; it’s not a mystical experience that functions as a get-out-of-hell-free card in the eternal Game of Life.  It’s something deeper and richer, a pattern reflected repeatedly through many ages, of descent into darkness, followed by victorious ascent into marvelous light. 

That’s the pattern Jesus established when he left his heavenly home to dwell in this dark world, and then returned to his Father’s side, to receive his well-deserved throne.  That is, as we described it last week, “the essence of the gospel.”  We see the same essence in Christ’s death, burial, and resurrection.  And he acted out the same pattern, when he weakened himself and faced temptation, then defiantly commanded, “Be gone, Satan!” 

For that matter, it’s the same pattern Jonah predicted, when he was thrown into the dark, stormy sea, preserved by God’s grace, and then brought back to the land of the living and told to start over; the same pattern David predicted when he faced a mortal threat from his own rebellious son, and put his trust in the Lord, saying,

I lay down and slept;

        I woke again, for the Lord sustained me.

I will not be afraid of many thousands of people

        who have set themselves against me all around.

(Psalm 3.5-6)

And it’s the same pattern the nation of Israel followed, when they were despairing at the reappearance of their enslaver and his army, grasping for hope of escape.  They took a nearly suicidal leap of faith into the midst of the Red Sea, down the unnatural path that appeared before them in the night.  They could observe, as easily as we, that the collected waters, which formed “a wall to them on their right hand and on their left” (Ex 14.22), would not stay held back like this forever; but they were afraid enough of Pharaoh, to throw themselves into that deep, dark chasm; and God rewarded their trust by conducting them safely through the Sea, and then used the same means to kill their pursuers and destroy their hold over Israel.

And it’s the same pattern Daniel followed, when he heard Darius’ foolish and irreverent decree, a thirty-day ban on any prayer not directed at the king himself.  Darius was Daniel’s friend, but allowed his sycophantic underlings to puff him up and make him out to be divine.  Daniel knew disobeying would lead him into a dark pit full of hungry lions; yet he deliberately refused to go along with with the sacrilege, and was preserved by God and brought safely back to the light, while the mortal threat he’d successfully evaded was turned instead on his accusers (Da 6.24).

And it’s the same pattern Gideon followed, when he received the call in the night to destroy his town’s idolatrous shrine and his own father’s valuable livestock, to make an appropriate sacrifice to God.  He knew full well that the townspeople would seek to kill him in response, and he was “afraid of his family and the men of the town” (Jdg 6.27); but he did it anyway, and in the morning light was defended and protected from reprisal.

And it’s the same pattern Peter acted out, when he attempted to make good on his vow to Jesus, “Even though they all fall away, I will not” (Mk 14.29).  He failed miserably.  He’d followed Jesus and his captors down from the mountain in the darkness, trying to stay close as his Lord was brought before representatives of Satan dressed as holy servants of God;  but in the darkness and cold, he’d stumbled, repeatedly denying that he even knew Jesus.  He could have, like Judas, chosen to stay in the darkness and make it his home forever, alone with his misery and guilt; but instead he confronted his failure, mourning his sin and returning to serve Jesus despite his lapse.  He followed his order, “when you have turned again, strengthen your brothers” (Lk 22.32). 

And it’s the pattern the Apostle Paul followed, when he was confronted with the alarming news that he’d been fighting on the wrong side of God’s war with Satan. 

Saul rose from the ground, and although his eyes were opened, he saw nothing. So they led him by the hand and brought him into Damascus. And for three days he was without sight, and neither ate nor drank.

(Acts 9.8-9)

In that abiding darkness and misery, he surrendered his heart to Christ, and was rewarded when God took hold of him and brought him back to the light—symbolized when “something like scales fell from his eyes, and he regained his sight” (Ac 9.18). 

We could go on, and on, and on, with more of these; but this is as good a time as any to bring into focus what Jesus said: “Be faithful unto death, and I will give you the crown of life” (Re 2.10).  Similarly,

“If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me. For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will save it.”

(Luke 9.23-24)

This is what it’s all about: a death, burial, and resurrection, following the pattern established by Jesus and demonstrated by God’s people across the ages.  But is this death, burial, and resurrection literal?  Or is it figurative?  Bodily?  Spiritual?  Singular?  Repeated?  Constant?  No; it’s all of the above!  It is the very essence of the Gospel, through which Christ redeems and saves.

Jeremy Nettles