Breakfast with John Owen 1

What do Coldplay and John Owen, the English Puritan, have in common? Maybe nothing other than I am listening to the one while considering the other. I'm quite sure it's not what Owen had in mind, but it's not all that's changed. In Communion with God, he writes in Chapter 1: "Human wisdom sees such an infinite disparity between God and man that it concludes there can be no communion between them. The knowledge that God and man can live in fellowship together is hidden in Christ. It is too wonderful for sinful, corrupted human nature to discover. Human wisdom leads only to terrors and fears when it thinks of coming into God's presence. But we have, in Christ, the way into God's presence without fear."

I am wondering whether or not Owen would say the same to mankind today? I've written previously about approaching God with what Nichole Nordeman (in her song Tremble) identifies as the tension between the causal and reverential approach toward God. We now live in a culture that has removed the exclusive nature of the Christian religion and substituted a hearth-like cultural warmth, a comfortable spirituality that is casual if not downright cavalier (Nordeman's term). Should I be listening to Coldplay and contemplating the theology of Owen?

In Owen's day humanity was terrified of God and longed for the mediation of Christ. In our day it seems that most live a practical atheism at the very least where to be in the presence of God (if he does exist) is like bumping into Mickey Mouse at the Wal-Mart. Or it's like God is in some room of the house (if He is there at all), probably watching the news and drinking coffee or tea. He is accessible when needed but unnoticed like a fire hose behind easily broken glass. Even there, who needs a mediator? Just ring the servant's bell. This would be the Grand Creator of all mind you. Making that assumption, maybe the "professors" state their point by wearing their God-understanding on their sleeves. Take note and beware. When it comes to God, we're all experts then-- and let no man become our teacher. We'll treat God as we know best and call it a private matter. We have our beliefs and prefer them unchallenged-- for to question an expert's assessment is the height of disrespect and intolerance.

Or maybe it's just my perspective tainting what is true about this posture of humanity. Perhaps the masses are afraid of God's presence. Maybe Owen is current. Maybe our society has forced the issue too much, so much so that we tip our hand and show our fear. To have God on our terms without further examination leaves us in the comfort zone. To consider a relationship with Him on His terms—to even entertain that he would have terms—brings the unknown into view and that is far too unsettling. To keep this fellowship devoid of definition through Christ allows one the ebb and flow of relativism. Only when I admit that God is not marginalized, that he owns and occupies not just the TV room, but the entire estate do I see him as he is. He owns my life. I was born to live for His purposes. My life is not my own. I am loved but not excused. Guilty but pardoned. Accountable to his authority. Yes, that would be terrifying. "But we have, in Christ, the way into God's presence without fear." Such a progression of thought would make Owen's point a current event. Let's deal with it.

For Barb, who knows this all too well

I think it human nature to want to discover an area where we can shake our fists at God and say, "You don't know what it's like to be me right now!" I also believe we desperately want to find no such thing. Until recently I never thought about this drama in the context of what the apostle Paul calls his "thorn in the flesh" (2 Corinthians 12). Paul states: "So to keep me from becoming proud, I was given a thorn in my flesh, a messenger from Satan to torment me and keep me from becoming proud." (v 6-8) He goes on to say that he pleaded with Lord three times to take this perturbation away, whatever it was. And that has always been the issue. We, read "I", have spent tons of time trying to figure out what this "thorn", this "messenger of Satan" was—so much so that we miss a great parallel from the life of Jesus.

In Mark 14, we read:

32 They went to the olive grove called Gethsemane, and Jesus said, "Sit here while I go and pray." 33 He took Peter, James, and John with him, and he became deeply troubled and distressed. 34 He told them, "My soul is crushed with grief to the point of death. Stay here and keep watch with me."

35 He went on a little farther and fell to the ground. He prayed that, if it were possible, the awful hour awaiting him might pass him by. 36 "Abba, Father," he cried out, "everything is possible for you. Please take this cup of suffering away from me. Yet I want your will to be done, not mine."

37 Then he returned and found the disciples asleep. He said to Peter, "Simon, are you asleep? Couldn't you watch with me even one hour? 38 Keep watch and pray, so that you will not give in to temptation. For the spirit is willing, but the body is weak."

39 Then Jesus left them again and prayed the same prayer as before. 40 When he returned to them again, he found them sleeping, for they couldn't keep their eyes open. And they didn't know what to say.

41 When he returned to them the third time, he said, "Go ahead and sleep. Have your rest. But no—the time has come. The Son of Man is betrayed into the hands of sinners. 42 Up, let's be going. Look, my betrayer is here!" (NLT)

Did you see it? When facing the cross, Jesus appeals to his father three final times for another route to redemption. The Passover cup of wrath is now to be poured out not on Egyptian first-borns, but on the Son of God nailed to a Roman cross. Jesus saw that road map to Golgotha, a dark and lonely path which would end with his Father no where in sight. Could there be another way? Mel Gibson captures this side of Gethsemane with Satan's appeal to Jesus: "Surely this is a burden too great for you to bear?" In a vivid burst of victory after his agonizing moments in prayer, the heel of God crushes the head of the serpent (Genesis 3:15). What did Jesus hear from heaven that gave him such strength to mount the cross?

I believe we have the answer to the three questions Jesus asked in the answer he gives to the three questions Paul asked: "My grace is all you need. My power works best in weakness." His grace is all we need. When the thorns won't come out. When we scream at heaven with the injustices of the world. When we shake our fists and say, "You don't know what it's like to be me right now." It is then we find ourselves with him in the garden. He does know what it's like to be us—in every way. He knows. And the same thing he says to us, is the same thing he said to that great apostle. It is, I believe, what Jesus heard from his own Father in that hour of deep despair. "My grace is all you need. My power works best in weakness." It may not be the answer we are looking for but it is usually what we get. I am trying to trust that it's also what we need.