A Counselor’s Reflections on Luke 7:18–22 by Tony Schnare

Luke 7:18-22

John’s disciples told him about all these things. Calling two of them, he sent them to the Lord to ask, “Are you the one who was to come, or should we expect someone else?” When the men came to Jesus, they said, “John the Baptist sent us to you to ask, ‘Are you the one who was to come, or should we expect someone else?’ “At that very time Jesus cured many who had diseases, sicknesses and evil spirits, and gave sight to many who were blind. So he replied to the messengers, “Go back and report to John what you have seen and heard: The blind receive sight, the lame walk, those who have leprosy are cured, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the good news is preached to the poor.

 

Luke’s recounting of this narrative points to Christ as the fulfillment of the Old Testament messianic prophecy of the Suffering Servant; a prophecy central to Luke’s retelling of redemption history that transcends political aspiration. More contemporary, this passage is viewed as an affirmation of Jesus as the Messiah in the context of an evangelistic discourse in which those in need of wholeness are exhorted to embrace the One by whose stripes restoration is procured.

 

Within the contemporary church once this One has been “invited in” and spiritual restoration “received,” the discourse often and quickly mutates away from relational prose to inclusionary criteria of oppressive and legalistic prose. Sadly these exhortations, though well intentioned, lack the recognition that victory over sin does not imply imminent emotional, spiritual and developmental well being any more than the salvation of our souls implies physical well being.

 

To voice the question John posed would potentially be viewed as weakness of faith for any committed believer who considers him or herself to be a part of the contemporary church. But wait a minute, wasn’t this the same John who earlier with prophetic confidence proclaimed, “Look, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world! This is the one . . ..” Jesus’ response to John is one of invitation and re-assurance, not one of rebuke and correction as we might otherwise anticipate. John’s question, though reflective of his inability to make sense of the tension between his messianic-judgment construct and the reality of Jesus earthly ministry thus far, was met with compassion rather than censure.

 

Could it not be said that John’s question encapsulates the very anxiety the lurks beneath all of our uncertainties and doubtfulness, whether we have yet to cross the line of faith or have in fact been on the journey for some time? To that extent I would suggest, the message of Luke 7: 18–22 applies not only to evangelism but to the ecclesia, and I would go so far as to say, to the academy as well. The message of One who extends sight to the blind, freedom to the lame, healing to the longing soul, the capacity to hear, new life, and the good news is as relevant to the seminarian as it is to the secularist. To be sure the question may take many forms. However, at its heart, ‘Are you the one who was to come, or should we expect someone else,’ may articulate our own struggle to resolve the tension between construct and experience.

 

A Christ-centered seminary reflecting this awareness will be characterized by a recognition that its faculty and students alike are on a journey of personal growth and development. It will be intentional with the message of reassurance and hope; a message that acknowledges the reality of struggle, that calls forth relational longing, that invites exploration of spiritual maturity and inspires confidence and intentional imitation. A Christ-centered seminary will report and remind its students that He is the One to come, that they need not look for another, and that they are “entitled to all the rights and honors appertaining thereto.” Having experienced this in the academy of higher learning, graduates of a Christ-centered seminary will transition to the academy of life long learning where they will entrust to others what they have heard and seen.

Who am I?

It was on this day, April 9, some 91 years ago that 3600 Canadian soldiers lost their lives at the Battle for Vimy Ridge–a battle which became a turning point for the Allied forces in the Great War. But the war to end all wars only led to the Second World War during which a now famous German theologian, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, was executed for his part in the plot to assassinate Hitler. Interestingly, it was April 9, 1945 when Bonhoeffer’s life was ended–just one month before the end of the war on May 8, 1945.

As evangelicals, we do not typically honour the martyrdom of the saints who have suffered death for the cause of Christ. Yet today I am compelled to remind us of this voice through a poem that Bonhoeffer penned in prison awaiting his own death. 

Who Am I?

Who am I? They often tell me
I stepped from my cell’s confinement
Calmly, cheerfully, firmly,
Like a squire from his country-house.

Who am I? They often tell me
I used to speak to my warders
Freely and friendly and clearly,
As though it were mine to command.

Who am I? They also tell me
I bore the days of misfortune
Equally, smilingly, proudly,
Like one accustomed to win.

Am I then really all that which other men tell of?
Or am I only what I myself know of myself?
Restless and longing and sick, like a bird in a cage,
Struggling for breath, as though hands were
compressing my throat,

Yearning for colors, for flowers, for the voices of birds,
Thirsting for words of kindness, for neighborliness,
Tossing in expectation of great events,
Powerlessly trembling for friends at an infinite distance,
Weary and empty at praying, at thinking, at making,
Faint, and ready to say farewell to it all?

Who am I? This or the other?
Am I one person today and tomorrow another?
Am I both at once? A hypocrite before others,
And before myself a contemptibly woebegone weakling?
Or is something within me still like a beaten army,
Fleeing in disorder from victory already achieved?

Who am I? They mock me, these lonely questions of mine.
Whoever I am, Thou knowest, 0 God, I am Thine!

 

So I ask today, if someone were to ask, Who are you?  what would you answer?

David Guretzki

 

How Do You Get the Christ into the Christ-Centered Seminary? by Blayne Banting

 24 Now I rejoice in my sufferings for your sake, and in my flesh I am filling up what is lacking in Christ’s afflictions for the sake of his body, that is, the church, 25 of which I became a minister according to the stewardship from God that was given to me for you, to make the word of God fully known, 26 the mystery hidden for ages and generations but now revealed to his saints. 27 To them God chose to make known how great among the Gentiles are the riches of the glory of this mystery, which is Christ in you, the hope of glory. 28 Him we proclaim, warning everyone and teaching everyone with all wisdom, that we may present everyone mature in Christ. 29 For this I toil, struggling with all his energy that he powerfully works within me (Colossians 1:24-29 ESV).

We have been entertaining our individual efforts at defining what it means to be a Christ-centered seminary.  Like the proverbial blind men given the task of describing an elephant, we all are lining up to contribute our perspectives—each with some piece of the puzzle.  In all likelihood, the full answer we seek exists both among and beyond our combined efforts.  One perspective we have shared in common is the relative difficulty of this issue.  How can, or even should a seminary be Christ-centered?  It seems similar to the cosmic conundrum posed by the old Caramilk commercial: “How do they get the caramel into the Caramilk bar?”  The indirect answer was both simple and unsatisfying.  Basically it was: “Who cares how they got the caramel into the Caramilk bar, the fun part is getting it out!”  Maybe we face a similar situation today.  Could the issue be less, “how do we get the Christ into the Christ-centered seminary?” and more “how can we express the reality of the present Christ who is already in the seminary?”?

Could the above passage from Paul’s letter to the Colossians be of assistance? While not equating the seminary with the church, Paul’s defense of his arm’s length ministry among the Colossians may present a paradigm for those of us who serve within the walls and halls of the seminary.  Paul begins by identifying himself.  This identity has implications for his role as an apostle to the Gentiles.  Dipping back to verse 23, Paul calls himself a minister (servant – diakonos) of the gospel which has some relation to his self-designation in verse 25 as a minister (diakonos) of the church.  The calling of this identity is seen to be the stewardship from God to make the word of God fully known (v.25b).  This ‘word’ or message is further described as “the mystery hidden for ages and generations but now revealed to his saints” (v.26).  The content of this mystery is revealed in verse 27b: “Christ in you, the hope of glory.”

So the mystery revealed is that Christ is in us (cf. Eph 3:6)—both Jews and non-Jews—as a present reality (i.e. the caramel is already in the Caramilk bar).  This is more than a present soteriological/existential reality, however.  It is an ecclesial one (Christ in you—plural) and an eschatological one (the hope of glory) as well.  The implications of this multi-faceted truth are many but Paul focuses his thought on what he does with this message.           

“Him we proclaim,” Paul writes, “warning everyone and teaching everyone with all wisdom…” (v.28a).  The act of proclamation is primary here (as you might expect a homiletician to point out) aided and expressed by the twin ministries of exhortation/warning and teaching.  These means of ministry are pointed broadly to all believers (‘everyone’ is mentioned 3 times in v.28).  While Paul was probably targeting the elitism endemic to the nascent Gnosticism in Colossae, there are other forms of intellectual elitism that tend to be more troublesome in the contemporary seminary.           

The purpose of this ministry is so “that we might present everyone mature in Christ” (v.28b).  The ‘already-not yet’ dynamic is prominent in this ‘outcome’ which may relativize our current preoccupation with learning outcomes.  Paul also addresses the power available to him for such a task: “For this I toil, struggling with all his energy that he powerfully works in me” (v.29).  Servants of Christ may employ this asymmetrical synergism (cf. 2 Cor 6:1; 1 Thess 3:2) in which God supplies the power for ministry as we offer God an obedient and moving ‘target.’  Such a posture might give an added perspective to our attempts at long range planning.           

So, in this light, we might be better served not to emphasize how to get the Christ into the Christ-centered seminary, but on how we let him out. 

The Christ-Centered Seminary by Marty Culy

A Christ-centered seminary will teach and constantly reflect the foundational confession of our faith: “Jesus is Lord” (Rom 10:9).  It will bring every subject, every lecture, every interaction, every opportunity for corporate worship—everything—under the lordship of Jesus Christ.  It will teach and model what it means to view all areas of life through the grid of a distinctively Christian worldview—a worldview revealed through the Word of God.  It will provide a context for students to explore what it means to be a disciple of Christ in the particular vocation to which God is calling them. 

A Christ-centered seminary will be founded upon Jesus’ unequivocal call to men and women to deny themselves, take up their cross, and follow Him (Matt 16:24).  It will teach and model self-denial rather than self-actualization; putting obedience above one’s own dreams and passions; living to glorify the Master rather than seeking to be fulfilled.  It will emphasize the absolute call to absolute devotion that Jesus places on everyone who bears His name: “If anyone comes to me and does not hate his father and mother, his wife and children, his brothers and sisters—yes, even his own life—he cannot be my disciple. And anyone who does not carry his cross and follow me cannot be my disciple” (Luke 14:26-27).   

On the one hand, a Christ-centered seminary will intentionally teach students not to “love the world.”  For God has told us “Do not love the world or anything in the world. If anyone loves the world, the love of the Father is not in him” (1 John 2:15).  Such a seminary will work hard to train students to recognize what loving the world looks like and to help them abandon any such love of the world.  It will train students to walk in the light (1 John 1:6-7), not on the edges of the light where they can smell and taste the darkness, but right in the middle of the light, as far from darkness as they can get.  It will teach students to embrace the fact that Jesus tells us, “Be perfect … as your heavenly Father is perfect” (Matt 5:48); Peter tells us, “just as he who called you is holy, so be holy in all you do” (1 Pet 1:15); and John tells us, “Everyone who remains in him does not sin” (1 John 3:6).  This lofty standard of holiness that is set for us should not surprise us since “without holiness no one will see the Lord” (Heb 12:14).  Truly Christ-centered education will emphasize the ubiquitous call of the Scriptures to live holy lives and will engage the common and destructive fallacy that relegates such calls to “legalism.”   

On the other hand, a Christ-centered seminary will teach and model for students what it means to “love the world” as God loved the world (John 3:16).  It will emphasize the need to be other-centered rather than self-centered.  It will seek to open students’ eyes to the needs all around them, both within the church and “out there.”  Students of such a seminary will be trained to seek out and rescue those who are lost wherever they are found through the proclamation of the Good News of Jesus Christ; they will be taught to view everything they own as resources entrusted to them by God for his kingdom purposes rather than for their own self-indulgence; and they will have faculty who model what laying down their lives for others looks like.   

In short, a Christ-centered seminary will exalt and imitate the Jesus of Scripture, while exposing the many “false christs” that are rampant in our churches. It will resist the temptation to turn to worldly wisdom to answer the challenges of our day, recognizing that the Gospel is “the power of God for the salvation of everyone who believes” (Rom 1:16); the Scriptures are sufficient to make every follower of Jesus “thoroughly equipped for every good work” (2 Tim 3:16); and Jesus alone is “the way and the truth and the life” (John 14:6). 

“Extravagance and Pragmatism” – by Dale Dirksen

John 12:1-8

 1Six days before the Passover, Jesus arrived at Bethany, where Lazarus lived, whom Jesus had raised from the dead. 2Here a dinner was given in Jesus’ honor. Martha served, while Lazarus was among those reclining at the table with him. 3Then Mary took about a pint of pure nard, an expensive perfume; she poured it on Jesus’ feet and wiped his feet with her hair. And the house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume.
4But one of his disciples, Judas Iscariot, who was later to betray him, objected, 5“Why wasn’t this perfume sold and the money given to the poor? It was worth a year’s wages.” 6He did not say this because he cared about the poor but because he was a thief; as keeper of the money bag, he used to help himself to what was put into it.
7“Leave her alone,” Jesus replied. ” It was intended that she should save this perfume for the day of my burial. 8You will always have the poor among you, but you will not always have me.”

Marva Dawn wrote a book called A Royal Waste of Time. In this book, she observes that often expressions of worship in the Bible seem to have no pragmatic value. They are offered, apparently, without much benefit to the one who offers. There is a sense of abandonment of “what’s in it for me.” Imagine the pragmatist watching the prize winning bull go up in smoke in the Jerusalem temple. It seems that one of the elements of this story of spikenard John 12 is one of a kind of extravagance that is not pragmatic. A costly offering is given freely and criticised immediately. I wonder what it did for Mary. Did she say, “That was a great worship experience; I really need to do that again soon”?

Judas Iscariot had a good point. Why waste this resource with so little visible return? You would think that Jesus would agree – after all, he did care about the poor. Yet, in this situation, Mary’s irresponsible act of centering her extravagant offering on Jesus is received with approval. There is a sense of participation in something bigger than the simply pragmatic.

I believe that pragmatism remains a high value in seminary culture. We are dominated by the values of efficiency and success. We also have high demands on our lives. Many expectations require us to choose between things and activities that are all good. We tend to choose the pragmatic in most cases. What if we chose extravagant instead? How might a seminary professor choose the kind of extravagance that Mary modelled? How might a seminary become known for these kinds of offerings? Maybe the most significant kind of extravagance we could demonstrate in seminary is related to time. Our time is increasingly our most precious commodity. We often feel that we don’t have enough of it (although, everyone has exactly the same amount). What if we set aside ideas of the practical and gave time extravagantly? How might we be Christ centered in light of how we use our time?

I believe this will relate to the sense of participation in community. The academy is radically oriented around individualism. We do our studying by ourselves and often have to protect our time by avoiding others. As we consider the possibility of Christ centered community, this becomes even more important. How might we develop a sense of Christ centeredness in our seminary community? Maybe this is where we choose the “wasteful” option and give extravagantly of our rare spikenard (time) for the purpose of not just personal relationship with Jesus, but learning how to be a community that is centered on Christ?

On March 20 we will be invited to participate in an offering of time related to prayer. Staff, faculty and student leaders have been invited to do it together. This seems like a non-pragmatic thing to do in late March. But maybe setting aside these hours will be one example of an extravagant and Christ centered offering?

Dr. Dale Dirksen

The Centrality of Christ in Psalm 25 by Eric Ortlund

Psalm 25

Psalm 25 begins by setting before us the poem’s central issue: shame in one’s walk with God (vv. 2-3).  In an ancient Semitic context, shame means more than a socially awkward mistake; it refers to a public failure in some endeavor or (more specifically) to a failure of trust between two parties.  The Psalmist is thus praying against a visible, public failure in his covenant relationship with Yahweh.  He ends the first part of the psalm with an assurance that his prayer will not be in vain (v. 3), and that God does not expose those who wait for him to this kind of public failure.

 

The general, timeless assertion of v. 3 does not seem to be enough for the Psalmist, however, because he launches into a series of beautiful imperatives designed to keep the public failure in covenant relationship he dreads from happening (vv. 4-7), praying not that God would merely help, but would actually cause the Psalmist to understand and to walk in Yahweh’s paths.  These requests resolve themselves into the assurances of vv. 8-11 and climax in the ideal picture of the kind of blessings a faithful, wise Israelite can expect in vv. 12-14.  In a beautifully counter-intuitive move, the Psalmist begins by saying that the goodness and uprightness of Yahweh is the foundation for his teaching sinners his way (v. 8), i.e., the absolutely secure foundation (resting in God’s own nature) on which the Psalmist expects his requests in vv. 4-7 will come true.  All Yahweh’s paths are hesed (covenant devotion) and faithfulness to those who keep his covenant (v. 10), so that they may enjoy a long and secure life in the land (v. 13).

 

This ideal in covenant relationship fades into the background, however, as the Psalmist turns to his present experience in vv. 15-21: he is lonely and afflicted, surrounded by enemies, burdened by great sin.  He closes his prayer by echoing its opening: guard my soul and deliver it; let me not be ashamed, for I trust in you (v. 20).  A final general wisdom aphorism in v. 21, paralleling v. 3, closes the psalm.  The Psalmist is sure the requests of vv. 4-7 will come true, but they have not come true yet.

 

A final verse (breaking the acrostic pattern of the whole) moves from an individual to a national perspective, echoing the “troubles” of v. 17.  While the editors of the Psalter respect the integrity of the poem as a whole, they see it as applying to situations beyond those of its original composition—in this case, probably to the exile and return of Israel.

 

What does this poem teach us about Christ-centeredness?  Some prayers in the psalms quite directly apply to Christ in such a way that, for instance, if it is appropriate for an ancient Israelite to pray the lament of Psalm 22, it is far more appropriate for Christ to pray that in relation to the cross.  I don’t think Psalm 25 quite fits into that category; there is too much about the confession of sin and asking for help in obedience—something the eternal Son of God doesn’t need to do.  At the same time, it is in Christ that the Father delivers us from the shame of the failure we would otherwise inevitably experience in our walk with him (vv. 1-3).  In Christ, the Spirit is shed into our hearts who creates in us the obedience God requires (vv. 4-7, 8-11), so that we enjoy not long but eternal life and rest in the new creation (vv. 12-14, especially v. 13).  And Christ himself takes the sin and pain of vv. 15-19 so that we are delivered from its ultimate consequences.  As a result, how can we learn from this psalm how best to position ourselves so we enjoy what the Father offers us through Christ to the fullest possible extent?

 

First, there is an unsparing, humble confession of sin and waiting on God (vv. 3, 11, 16-18).  This is no quick fix.  Second, the Psalmist does not draw any distinction between individual sin and its more public and social effects: he needs his sin forgiven and to be delivered from his enemies (vv. 2-3, 15-19).  While I’m not sure of the exact connection between the two, it is as if the Psalmist understands sin in the broadest possible way, and fully expects God to quell and redeem sin in all its effects.  Third, the Psalmist commits himself in integrity to Yahweh before Yahweh has done anything: integrity and uprightness will guard me, for I wait for you (v. 21).  Fourth, the Psalmist seems not to be satisfied with the general, timeless, Proverbs-like pronouncements of vv. 3 and 21; he does not dispute them, but he asks for and expects Yahweh’s direct intervention (vv. 4-7, 15).  He is both confident and somber.  Finally, the Psalmist is able to avoid any illusions about his own present misery, while at the same time clearly and expectantly keeping in view Yahweh’s intervention in his life and his heart.  This Psalm is teaching us to reach out for what God offers us in Christ, while still being unsparing with ourselves. 

  

Christ-Centred Theology

Luke 24:13-35 

            When I think about what it means to do Christ-centred theology, I often turn to this post-resurrection account of Jesus appearing to these two disciples on the road to Emmaus. In my view, the passage provides a paradigm for what it means to do Christ-centered theology.

            First, Christ-centred theology takes place in dialogue with Jesus. Notice that Jesus does not simply jump into a lecture, but inquires of the disciples and talks with them, and they with him. This resonates with what the ancients have always insisted when it comes to theology: Lex orandi, lex credendi, which when translated means, “the rule of prayer is the rule of faith.” To put it another way, the Christian only believes to the extent to which he or she is able to pray to Christ in the midst of it all. These disciples, though failing to recognize Jesus, were nevertheless engaged by Christ in two-way prayer—chastised, to be sure, but with the result being true spiritual knowledge. Likewise, theology that does not start, is sustained, or ends in prayer in the name of Jesus can hardly be said to be Christ-centred.

            Second, I am fascinated that despite Christ’s living presence before these disciples, he does not simply point at himself and say, “Here I am! Just believe!” Instead, he points us to where we must look: the Holy Scriptures. Jesus takes these disciples on an amazing OT study in which he shows them “what was said in all the Scriptures concerning himself” (v. 27). Thus, Christ-centred theology learns to read the Bible not primarily as a moral handbook of life, or even as a storehouse of theological information, but as a book that leads forward and backward to Jesus Christ, the Alpha and Omega, and indeed, centre, of Scripture. As Martin Luther once put it, the Scriptures are the manager in which the Christ child is laid. Thus, a Christ-centred theological agenda and hermeneutic is driven by a desire to know Christ better through Scripture.

            Third, Christ-centred theology, paradoxically, gives us glimpses of Christ, only to have those glimpses pulled back from us again. Amazingly, these disciples did not recognize Jesus physically, but only in the act of communing together with him in the breaking of bread were they able to recognize him in his glory—but then only for a moment! This illustrates what some theologians have spoken of as the “dialectic of veiling and unveiling” whereby God is revealed to us most fully in Jesus Christ (cf. Heb 1:3), but yet still remains hidden in unapproachable light (1Tim 6:16). So a Christ-centred theology actually guards against capturing Christ by our claims, and instead humbly allows our claims to be tested, and if need be, chastised by the Word himself.       

       Finally, Christ-centred theology leads to a response in the form of witness and proclamation. In the same way that these disciples proclaimed the risen Lord “immediately” after recognizing him, so, too, a Christ-centred theology compels us to testify of Jesus Christ the risen one, and not simply to spout doctrines about him. This is truly what it means to do evangelical theology—a theology oriented to testifying what has transpired in and among us, such that our hearts burn within us until we cry, “He is risen! He is risen indeed!”

David Guretzki 

A Christ-Centred Seminary?

As a seminary faculty we have been reflecting this past few months on what it means to be a “Christ-centered” seminary. To say that we are “Christ-centred” is easy, but what does this really mean? This is the question that I asked each of our seminary faculty members to write on this year, particularly from their disciplinary perspective. These reflections were first presented at seminary faculty meetings, but I am now presenting them you as our seminary community.

What do you think?