Justification And Pumpernickel
Many years ago, I decided that one thing the Church needed, as much as She needs anything else, is a good dictionary. We tend to use words like salvation, forgiveness, redemption, and the new birth, or "born again", almost interchangeably, as if they all meant the same thing. And that's not the lot, either; the list goes on and on. But each of these words has a unique definition, and the more we muddy-up the distinctions, the less accurate our understanding of Scripture will be. As you have no doubt guessed, Justification is the word for today.
Of course, in our daily lives, justification is no mystery; those of us old enough to have started with typewriters and graduated to word processors know all about it. You type a page of text, and the right-hand margin looks like a bad hair day. All the lines are different lengths. But when you click the "Justify" button, subtle bits of space are added to the short lines to bring them up even with the long ones. Suddenly the right-hand margin is as sharp and even as the left-hand margin. So here's my first entry in my new Ecclesiastical Dictionary:
Justification: Making up the difference.
We Christians do ourselves and one another a great disservice when we quote, for instance, Romans 3: 23 by itself: "For all have sinned, and come short of the glory of God..." We use this verse as a weapon to beat humility into one another, to prove that we're all unworthy before God, that so-and-so's no better than the rest of us, etc. But there is no period at the end of verse 23. Look at it again, and continue on to the next six words: "...for all have sinned, and come short of the glory of God; being justified freely by his grace..."
Makes a difference, doesn't it? When you get a moment, you might turn to the third chapter of Romans and read verses 20 through 26. The Apostle Paul is informing us that even though, or because, we were all sinners together before God, His righteousness is made available to all of us alike. We all fall short, and His grace makes up the difference for us all. His righteousness is as available to me as it is to, say, Billy Graham or Mother Teresa. Or Grandma Cohagen.
I brought all that up for a reason. There is a tendency these days--I've noticed it especially in our worship songs--to focus our attention on our own unworthiness. We come before God with our hat in our hands, begging Him to fix all that is wrong with us. It's as if as soon as grace makes up the difference for us, we suddenly notice that we come short of His glory. His righteousness shines the light on our need for His righteousness. We wring our hands and acknowledge that without Him we could do nothing, when we should be standing tall and proclaiming that we are not without Him, that by His grace and through our faith, we can and will do all that He requires of us. Christ Jesus, not our short-comings, should be the focus of true worship.
I recently came in contact with a child who required my services. (It's my secret identity. Clark Kent was a mild-mannered reporter; I'm a mild-mannered health-care professional.) The boy is severely handicapped; he's nearly three, but looks about one year old. The first time I saw him, I started to call him "Pumpkin," as is my way with the little ones, but for some reason, it came out "Pumpernickel," and it seemed to fit. He had come to our hospital from a long-term facility, and over the course of a few days, two things happened. First, I fell in love with little Pumpernickel. Second, I began to see myself in the light of my "assignment" from Heaven, as a vehicle by which Jesus could make contact with him. I prayed for him every time I came into his room, and somehow the reality of the words "in Jesus' name" became clear to me. They were my hands, but His touch; my voice, but His prayer. My love, but so much more than anything I could have come up with on my own. For perhaps the first time in my life I understood what ministry is all about. It's not about me.
God doesn't need me to be perfect, He just needs me to be available. Whatever short-comings I possess, and they are legion, He pays them no attention at all. His grace has already made up the difference. He sees me clothed in His own righteousness. He is, after all, the justifier of those who believe in Jesus.
When Jesus rode into Jerusalem the crowd waved palm branches and shouted praises; I wonder if the donkey thought the commotion was for him? My only desire now is that someday I'll feel the hand of Jesus on my head and hear him say, "Thanks. That was a nice ride."
_____
Copyright © August, 2008
David L Henderson
Of course, in our daily lives, justification is no mystery; those of us old enough to have started with typewriters and graduated to word processors know all about it. You type a page of text, and the right-hand margin looks like a bad hair day. All the lines are different lengths. But when you click the "Justify" button, subtle bits of space are added to the short lines to bring them up even with the long ones. Suddenly the right-hand margin is as sharp and even as the left-hand margin. So here's my first entry in my new Ecclesiastical Dictionary:
Justification: Making up the difference.
We Christians do ourselves and one another a great disservice when we quote, for instance, Romans 3: 23 by itself: "For all have sinned, and come short of the glory of God..." We use this verse as a weapon to beat humility into one another, to prove that we're all unworthy before God, that so-and-so's no better than the rest of us, etc. But there is no period at the end of verse 23. Look at it again, and continue on to the next six words: "...for all have sinned, and come short of the glory of God; being justified freely by his grace..."
Makes a difference, doesn't it? When you get a moment, you might turn to the third chapter of Romans and read verses 20 through 26. The Apostle Paul is informing us that even though, or because, we were all sinners together before God, His righteousness is made available to all of us alike. We all fall short, and His grace makes up the difference for us all. His righteousness is as available to me as it is to, say, Billy Graham or Mother Teresa. Or Grandma Cohagen.
I brought all that up for a reason. There is a tendency these days--I've noticed it especially in our worship songs--to focus our attention on our own unworthiness. We come before God with our hat in our hands, begging Him to fix all that is wrong with us. It's as if as soon as grace makes up the difference for us, we suddenly notice that we come short of His glory. His righteousness shines the light on our need for His righteousness. We wring our hands and acknowledge that without Him we could do nothing, when we should be standing tall and proclaiming that we are not without Him, that by His grace and through our faith, we can and will do all that He requires of us. Christ Jesus, not our short-comings, should be the focus of true worship.
I recently came in contact with a child who required my services. (It's my secret identity. Clark Kent was a mild-mannered reporter; I'm a mild-mannered health-care professional.) The boy is severely handicapped; he's nearly three, but looks about one year old. The first time I saw him, I started to call him "Pumpkin," as is my way with the little ones, but for some reason, it came out "Pumpernickel," and it seemed to fit. He had come to our hospital from a long-term facility, and over the course of a few days, two things happened. First, I fell in love with little Pumpernickel. Second, I began to see myself in the light of my "assignment" from Heaven, as a vehicle by which Jesus could make contact with him. I prayed for him every time I came into his room, and somehow the reality of the words "in Jesus' name" became clear to me. They were my hands, but His touch; my voice, but His prayer. My love, but so much more than anything I could have come up with on my own. For perhaps the first time in my life I understood what ministry is all about. It's not about me.
God doesn't need me to be perfect, He just needs me to be available. Whatever short-comings I possess, and they are legion, He pays them no attention at all. His grace has already made up the difference. He sees me clothed in His own righteousness. He is, after all, the justifier of those who believe in Jesus.
When Jesus rode into Jerusalem the crowd waved palm branches and shouted praises; I wonder if the donkey thought the commotion was for him? My only desire now is that someday I'll feel the hand of Jesus on my head and hear him say, "Thanks. That was a nice ride."
_____
Copyright © August, 2008
David L Henderson
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