the raven, the dove, and the holy spirit

Much of A.W. Tozer's writings and sermons have been printed and reprinted that it can often be confusing to the reader where to find specific content.  One collection of sermons on the theme of the Holy Spirit was published in 1968 under the title, When He Is Come.  In preparing for the transition from Easter to Pentecost, I have been rereading through this volume again this year.  The final sermon (Chapter 10) contains a rather interesting connection: the dove which Noah sent from the ark as an image of the Holy Spirit's relationship to the world - both repelled by corruption.

As an exposition of Genesis 8:9, Tozer provides a fascinating look into Noah's releasing of the birds - first the raven, then the dove - from the ark as a way of gauging the receding waters.  Since the window of the ark allows him only to look skyward, the birds will provide him feedback on the condition of the world.  (There is a valuable discussion in John Walton's NIVAC commentary on Genesis regarding the historical 'difficulties' that exist around the biblical flood narrative.)  It is the raven which is sent out first, which flew back and forth over the earth until the water had receded.  Such birds are carrion, and were perhaps able to feast on the death and destruction that would have been leftover from the flood.  It is opposite the dove - the gentler of the two birds - which finally returns with an olive branch, signifying the new growth that was emerging on the earth.

Tozer's sermon on this passage is straightforward: the raven is able to find a home amongst the carnage, while the dove is looking for a renewed earth.  The raven surveys the remains of destruction from God's judgment, while the dove returns with a sign of God's grace and restoration.  As imagery of the coming Holy Spirit, these birds give a picture of God and his relationship to the world.  In a pastoral sense, Tozer then connects the condition of the heart to the raven and the dove - one which is darkened and willing to embrace a world which is corrupt, verses the life which has been renewed by the gospel and able to receive the presence of the Holy Spirit.

An interesting direction which this sermon is further taken is how many churchgoers are willing to embrace parts of our culture instead of abiding in the presence of the Spirit.  Although he speaks to a culture in the first half of the twentieth century, Tozer's words seem to be prophetically applicable to the state of our world in the very early years of the twenty-first century.  Our culture is willing to recognize 'good men/women' and even give a tip of the hat to various 'spiritualities,' so long as they are not overly specific or demanding.  This means, of course, that genuine Christianity will not be tolerated by our modern culture (especially the so-called-political-correctness of so-called-tolerance).

When churches incorporate such cultural shifts, typically in a quest to be appealing or desirable or non-offensive or hip, then the Spirit cannot accomplish its work of renewal and divine restoration of creation will not occur in such situations.  As I have said before, the one power in all creation that can stop the Spirit of God is the human heart.  Tozer's equation of this phenomenon - laid out ahead of its occurring - was that the loss of the fundamental Christian experience of the Spirit would result in liberalism, which will result in unitarianism.  In other words, without the presence of the Spirit the church will succumb to the progressive ideas of culture, and there will be no distinguishing mark of the people of God.

All of this from ravens and doves?  It appears so, not because Tozer was a preacher noted for his kitschy creativity and well-marketed sermons.  He went to the Mars Hill of our culture with the voice of a prophet, and saw God's story in the whole of Scripture, with a faith that was not interested in conforming to that which was socially acceptable in his day.  On that, we can learn that it is not our ability to be accepted, stylish, trend-setting, popular, or the like.  Our trending toward culture is allowing the ravens to pick away at the corpses that have fallen under God's judgment.  All the while we could be filled with the Spirit of Almighty God.

this echo

Thomas Merton writes:

"Contemplation is also the response to a call: a call from Him Who has no voice, and yet Who speaks in everything that is, and Who, most of all, speaks in the depths of our own being: for we ourselves are words of His. But we are words that are meant to respond to Him, to answer to Him, to echo Him, and even in some way to contain Him and signify Him. Contemplation is this echo."

It is no secret that our lives are generally ruled by the tyranny of activity. This has long infiltrated the church, where programs and events have replaced personal development and discipleship. Part of the missional movement (and emerging movements) within evangelicalism is an awakening to the need for a deeper spiritual experience among believers. We need to recover the spiritual dimension of our lives and reach for the depths of divine mystery.

I have discovered that we all, at some point in our lives, become empty. This is one of the inevitable points of the human journey. The circumstances of life will drain us of everything - our strength, our will, our peace - and we must make the choice to move forward or drift away. Christ has also offered us an emptying, though it is often overlooked by our present church culture. He has summoned us to a path which begins with a kenosis, the most difficult thing in the world.

In order to reach out and grasp the Creator we must open our hands and let go of whatever it is we hold tightly. This is counterintuitive to the human condition, and to a culture which has (effectively) convinced us that the way forward is gaining, not losing. Even when we have lost it seems that we are told to gather together - why so many people and governments believe the accumulation of stuff erases the effects of debt.

I have now been summoned to this path in a way which I never before conceived. The promise that has been given is that it will be difficult and painful, that there will be much required of me that many others will not be willing to accomplish . . . or follow. It is not a journey of personal pride or accomplishment. In fact, it is the opposite - it is a kenosis. And this echo will be the renewed creating voice of God speaking once again to reconciliation and renewal. What is clear is that when we are part of the kingdom it is not our life that makes a difference in the world, it is Christ now living in us. To that end, it is not our voice that is heard but an echo of the voice of God now speaking to his own . . . even when his own does not receive him.

And thus our lives are echoes back to him and reverberations to others.

"We ourselves become His echo and His answer. It is as if in creating us God asked a question, and in awakening us to contemplation He answered the question, so that the contemplative is at the same time, question and answer."

both quotes Thomas Merton, New Seeds of Contemplation, 3.

trying to keep up

Among other things Pentecost is a powerful reminder that we cannot keep up with the Spirit of God. As we prepare to read through the powerful account of Acts 2 we would do well to keep in mind the subsequent recounting of the early church, especially the fact that God's Spirit continually outpaces the first believers in the kingdom's mission.

When we lose sight of this we think of the early church as a group which quickly figured it all out - right belief, right practice, perfect community - and then assume that we simply must return to that time period (somehow) and we too will have everything figured out. Therein lies one of the most glaring distinctions between the modern and ancient churches: while we so often believe that we have the Spirit in our comprehension, the first believers knew that it was impossible to properly understand (much less systematize) the holy Spirit of God. And so we are doing church in a much different context than it was ever intended to be.

Church leadership expert, Reggie McNeal, suggests that we must "change the scorecard" of how we understand and evaluate our church culture. He is right on this, for the taming of the Spirit in the contemporary expressions of church is the primary reason for the current failures of the church. One example of this may be found in the overly used "track record" for evaluating leaders within the church. The phrase indicates a search for some sort of measurable criteria by which one's ministry can be evaluated. In other words, this is a tracking of success within the field of ministry. And because such tracking needs to have "objective criteria" it doesn't take too long for it to be a Christianized evaluation of worldly triumph.

If we are to believe that the Spirit of God is untamable and unstoppable, then we must accept that no single criteria can be used to evaluate the Spirit's activity. Spiritual gifts inventories can only go so far, numerical growth can only show so much, and churches that are run simply as business with an opening and closing prayer doesn't cut it. The real mission is the spark which is set off within the heart of an individual and community that fuels passion and gives purpose to the work of the kingdom of God.

And that will make us all begin to look like Jesus. Radical. Bold. Loved. Despised. Jesus.

It seems to me that this fruit is the only measurable presence of the Spirit, that we should have the love of Christ being poured out as Christ into all the world (with all the defining features of joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control). And in a quest to become Christ in the world we have no hope of catching up, though we are blessed to be able to run hard after him and spread his work around as we go.

So, among other things Pentecost is a powerful reminder that we cannot keep up with the Spirit of God. The book of Acts is a demonstrable reminder of that.

a dividing spirit of truth

"The expression 'spirit of truth' introduces a note of edginess to the promise of the spirit, for with it an alien world intrudes into the private discourse between a teacher and his friends: 'the spirit of truth, whom the world cannot receive, because it neither sees it nor knows it.' (John 14:17)."

(from John R. Levison, Filled with the Spirit, Eerdmans, 2010).

Truth has always been a rare commodity among humanity. As part of the Fall we are constantly battling what is true and what is false, what edifies and what destroys, what reveals and what deceives. When Jesus tells his disciples that a 'spirit of truth' is to come upon them, he emphasizes the arrival of restoration from such a fallen state. Thus, he informs the world that there is something coming which will be unfamiliar and odd - pure truth in the midst of a world of muddied deception.

The world cannot receive this spirit of truth, he says to us. But it is coming nonetheless to those who follow after him. This can only lead to a significant break between those who are sprited-people and those who align their hearts to the stuff of earth. Of course, we will not see that the coming of this spirit of truth leads to a geographic distinction between these two people. They will walk among each other and interact in this life.

And so, Jesus tells us also that his followers - who are these spirit-of-truth-people - will be in this world, even though they will not be of this world. Their stuff will not be the stuff of earth, but will reflect their status as individuals within whom the stuff of heaven now resides. Walking among the un-spirited-people, those who have received the spirit of truth will be distinguishable by a higher and nobler quality within - a character filled with the spirit of truth.

This causes all sorts of trouble for those who are spirit-of-truth receivers, for they now face the frustration (at the least) and blatant opposition (at the worst) of conducting themselves as people of the spirit in a world which neither recognizes it at work, nor understands it in concept. Therein lies the state of our world, divided between the spirit of truth (the Spirit of God) and those who have never been released from the plane of earth. To anticipate the coming of the spirit of truth is always portrayed in Christian circles as such a happy moment, seldom counting the cost of what division will be placed between the receiver and the ignorer.

Understanding this moves us closer to living the faith to which we have been summoned by the very spirit of truth that is at work in all of this.

unquestionably able

In a passage discussing Exodus 28, Jack Levison addresses the notion of the workers being "filled" with the wisdom of God.

John R. Levinson, Filled with the Spirit (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2009).

In his own translation of the text, he renders the Hebrew of 28:3 as, "And you shall speak to all the wise of heart whom I have filled with spirit of wisdom, and they will make Aaron's vestments . . ." (52). This aligns with his overall thesis that the spirit of god as understood in Scripture is more than a supernatural gift, but the very source of life and wisdom within the individual. From here, the notion of filling is to be understood as completing (or 'topping off') the spirit which is already present within the individual. It is an interesting thesis and deserves more exploration.

In regards to Exodus 28 Levinson writes, "The artisans were not partly prepared for the task ahead; they were not slightly skilled in weaving and stonework. They were filled with the spirit of wisdom, unquestionably able to do what would be demanded of them" (55, emphasis in original). The notion that God's filling makes the individual unquestionably able to complete the task which has been set before them is a powerful statement.

I am reminded of 1 Corinthians 10:13, which is taken in the wrong direction in my view. We often think that God will not give us anything more than we can handle. This has some theological difficulties all around, not least of which is that it accredits God with providing us the trials and temptations which we are supposed to be overcoming on his behalf. What the verse actually says is that God will not allow the temptations that we encounter overcome us by providing us a way to rise above it. How? Perhaps in the same way that we interpret Exodus 28, that God will fill us with his Spirit to make us unquestionably able to complete the work before us of providing witness to the kingdom.

One of the great strengths of Levinson's thesis is that it acknowledges the spirit which is inherent to every individual, but also understands that it must be cultivated to virtue. The artisans weren't random people who were filled with the Spirit and suddenly able to make beautiful temple furnishings. They were already skilled (and probably refined in their skill through training and learning) when the Spirit came and completed (fulfilled) their ability for the task at hand.

What have we to learn about ourselves? Do we regard those who are skilled and filled with the Spirit of God as unquestionably able to complete the work? Perhaps we are often too busy debating the hows and whys, ins and outs, or trying to debate who is more qualified than we are supporting those who have been summoned, placing our confidence in the God who has given his Spirit to ensure that these little ones are unquestionably able.

So it is with each believer, and flowing from this comes a community of God's presence, all using their diversity of gifts to serve a unified purpose of kingdom. Thus we come to the work of the church as those able and skilled, but completed and motivated by the Spirit. I look forward to reading the remainder of Levinson's book and offering a fuller review later on.

at a loss for words

. . . and yet I still have so much that I think I need to say. That seems to be the nature of emptiness, we need to fill the space with words. The words don't always need to make sense, because it is noise that we think we need. How appropriate that this should come during a season of Lent, that I must be forced to choose between the hideous notion of trite and random thoughts and the meditative quiet of passing time, where I might just be able to snag one brief listen of the still small voice.

Words reinforce, reproach, remove. Thoughts, however, have the ability to redirect and renew. Perhaps it is because we are people who are more than the sum of our body parts, we are minds that think and we are spirits which connect. Time given to reflection during life's poignant moments is a fast in itself, and the deflection of clamoring can stop the recess of a person into the fallen and give opportunity for the Spirit to raise up.

This, of course, is why the world is so loud. The primary function of those things which are non-kingdom is to keep us from being about our king's business. And if the noise drags us downward, and we are caught up in the noise then we are not being part of this kingdom. So, we are called to be empty of ourselves and of our world; completely emptied and without any words at our disposal, a loss of great magnitude. More than that, it is a loss of eternal significance. Being emptied of the world and not even being able to find our words - for, so great is our depravity - is the only way to hear the deafening silence of his intensely pure presence.

Such is the only path to becoming filled. But not filled with more words or noise or stuff of the earth. It is instead the filling of his life and his love, his breath and his bread, his wisdom and his word. There is hurt in noise, for so often we allow the most untamed part of us to reek havoc on persons, relationships, families and churches. There is healing - most importantly, there is peace - in the still small voice. So, let us always remember the words of Qohelet.

. . . a time to be silent and a time to speak . . .

little messiahs

"After the resurrection, God's kingdom, which had begun to manifest itself in Jesus himself, would continue to transform the world through the community of empowered disciples. The church is an extension not so much of the incarnation as of the anointing of Jesus. Jesus is the prototype of the church, which now receives its own baptism in the Spirit. Spirit, who maintained Jesus' relationship with the Father and empowered him for mission, now calls the church into that relationship, giving it the power to carry on the mission. There had to be, after Jesus' departure, a colony of heaven, living the life and power and experiencing the freedom of the kingdom. Spirit indwells the church as a perpetual Pentecost and communicates gifts to its members. Spirit ecclesiology focuses not on the quality of the members but on the power of God at work in and through them."

Clark H. Pinnock, Flame of Love: A Theology of the Holy Spirit (Downers Grove: IVP, 1996), 114.

A couple of important clauses in this perspective of the Spirit. First, however, is the notion that we are not so much the continuing incarnation of Jesus as we are the continuing anointing of Jesus. This means that we are brought into his anointing - his Messiaship - as those who participate in his life, death and resurrection (think Romans 5, et al; but also consider places such as the risen Christ's promise of sharing his reign given in Revelation 2:26-27). The implication here is that (once again) the focus of the Christian faith is not personal salvation but the renewal of creation - the work does not cease when we have experienced the resurrection part of the story . . . it goes on to share in the experience of his messianic anointing.

And there is an interesting connection to baptism on this: for Jesus was baptized primarily as vindication and anointing of his messianic vocation (his was not a baptism of repentance), just as our experience of baptism should inspire us to bring the kingdom of heaven into earth more than solidifying our security as those who are 'saved.' But does this also help nuance our perception of Peter's famous words: 'Repent and be baptized' (Acts 2:38)? Is this a moral decision followed by a public announcement? Or is this a moral decision with a directed purpose for the outworking of a newly adopted lifestyle?

Once the passion and purpose of the action repent and be baptized have been actualized, then we can see the emergence of the church as a 'colony of heaven' which lives within 'a perpetual Pentecost' of anointing for mission. The church seems very quick to share in the resurrection of Jesus (though not so much participate in his suffering and death). If we are going to rush for the co-heirs motif then we must realize that the path is through the work of the kingdom which he initiated and gave to those who would willingly bear his name.

Perhaps it is less appropriate to think of believers as embodying the presence of Christ to the world and more appropriate that we believe our work to be the continuing of his Messianic office.

bringing jesus

Discussions of the Spirit in Luke-Acts have often centered around the concept of δύναμις and its relationship to πνεῡμα.  Graham Twelftree portrays his view of this relationship in his most recent, In the Name of Jesus, when discussing the nature of Christian exorcism and spiritual warfare.  Although he doesn't really bring anything new to the table on the specific relationship of these two concepts, it is interesting how he strings some thoughts together regarding Luke-Acts.

In regards to Luke 5:17 and 8:46 Twefltree makes the statement, ". . .δύναμις works immediately and impersonally, responding to the contact of any believing person without the knowledge or approval of Jesus" (137).  But (and here he moves forward in 'filling-out' this notion), "It is the powerful presence of God's Spirit received for healing through faith" (137).  What Twelftree seems to be saying here is that δύναμις is the outworking of the presence of God's πνεῡμα.  This means, for Luke, that the source of healing is attributed directly to the immediate presence of the Spirit rather than through any incantation or human personality.

While there is definitely more to be said on this idea, what I want to focus on here is how he moves this into the healing and exorcism ministry of the early church.  He states, "From Luke's perspective, early Christian exorcism was successful because the exorcists brought Jesus into the situation either by using his name or issuing a command as if passed down from him" (148, emphasis is mine).  This is an interesting concept which I think has fallen away in the modern church culture.  As people quite obsessed with our own power and influence, we like the concept of δύναμις, regardless of its specific relationship to the Spirit.

Yet, it is quite interesting to note that Luke's picture of δύναμις is predicated on a specific relationship with πνεῡμα - meaning, power comes from a right relationship with the Spirit and not just our desire to have power.  Twelftree's statement refers to the belief among the early Christians that as they invoked the name of Jesus they were introducing the presence of Jesus into the situation.  And this was reserved for the advancement of the kingdom, especially in exorcism, healing and spiritual warfare.  (It is doubtful that parking spaces and vending machine selection warranted such an invocation among the first believers.)

Rather than using 'the name of Jesus' as a way to cap off an otherwise self-centered and egotistic string of wants, the tradition preserved in the Gospel is that the spiritual presence of Jesus held the power of the coming kingdom which was going to overcome the powers of the world.  Therefore, going in the name of Jesus requires the church to go in the full power of the Spirit and the dedication of making the kingdom a reality within the world.  Sadly, this is missing in large part among modern Christians.

"Exorcism was not simply healing a sick person but the bringing of salvation" (148).

spirit dreams

I am part of a church community which has some interesting (if I may use that term so early in the morning) traits. On a certain level this is probably a good thing, because in so many ways this particular group of believers does not become attracted to some of the pitfalls which surround (and define?) modern evangelicalism. Even still, there are other aspects which makes this condition rather hard to deal with. Perhaps the greatest obstacle to spiritual growth and renewal that faces this (and other) churches is the inability to dream - to consider the possibility that something better may be on the horizon.

The reason for concern here are not simply the ongoing annoyance which accompanies the eternal quest for momentum within the body, but with the larger issue of how dreaming ultimately serves to define who we are - at least, in part. The ability to dream is directly linked to our ability to imagine things, to create pictures in our minds which often transport us to another place. When we sleep we often lose much of our control over these things, but daydreaming is something that is quite unique: it is the longing and desire for something else - usually better and more exciting - that pulls us away from the present reality. And somehow, when we return, we find that we have a different perspective on how we want to move forward.



So, these dreams matter. What Joel 2 promises (and what Acts 2 cashes in) is a community of people who dream. But rather than sitting in a daze envisioning galaxies far, far away we are to have dreams and visions of how creation is meant for so much more than the fallen state it now experiences. The dreams that we have are meant to come from the work of the Spirit within each of us, summoning us to God’s perspective. The ultimate dream is one of the kingdom of God coming in its fullness. The reality of this is to work toward the fulfillment of this goal, to become active participants in the kingdom.

The simple theory is thus: to find contentment in the ways things are with no drive or desire (or even question) of seeing the world in better terms is to demonstrate a lack of the Spirit within us. Whether individual or community, this dullness exposes our failing connection with the Spirit which has been made available to every believer. The promise of Joel has been fulfilled in the outpouring of the Spirit - it is who we are that summons us to dreams and visions. We have no reason to dwell in passionless gatherings.

baptism of fire and division

“I have come to bring fire on the earth, and how I wish it were already kindled! But I have a baptism to undergo, and how distressed I am until it is completed! Do you think I came to bring peace on earth? No, I tell you, but division. From now on there will be five in one family divided against each other, three against two and two against three. They will be divided, father against son and son against father, mother against daughter and daughter against mother, mother-in-law against daughter-in-law and daughter-in-law against mother-in-law.” (Luke 12:49--53)

In this passage Jesus speaks of two things: fire and baptism. He says that he is going to bring fire upon the earth - a sign of judgment that the messiah was expected to bring. Why was the messianic figure expected to do this? This is based upon the Hebrew notion that the eschatological renewal of Israel would come after a period of tribulation. Thus it is the role of the messiah, who ushers in the period of restoration and renewal, to inaugurate the period of judgment. Jesus appears to be alluding to this - and reminding us of the terrible day of the Lord which must come before the glorious day of the Lord can be experienced (cf. Amos 5:18) - and claiming that it is his specific job to pour out this fiery judgment upon the earth.

Yet there is a second part of his words - a mentioning of a baptism which he must be baptized with that appears to have similar overtones to it. Luke has already set the stage in that Jesus is moving in a deliberate fashion to Jerusalem where he must suffer and die, and his words reveal his own struggle with the events which lie before him. Interestingly, as one biblical scholar named G. R. Beasley-Murray stated it: ‘the Messiah has come to judge the world and be judged for the world!” This short paragraph certainly contains much theology and should be a key component for understanding the messianic role of Jesus.

I am convinced that the categories of fire and baptism (as well as Jesus’ own understanding of what it means to be a messiah) are defined by the third and final entity in this passage: division. Although many would simply divide the discussion of this passage into two parts - the first dealing with fire and baptism, the second with division - it is quite clear that this is a theological and thematic whole which must not be divorced. In fact, it is his harsh words of division which unveil the meaning of the entire saying. For us to understand how the images of fire and baptism go together as Jesus describes them can only happen when we consider that his primary objective is the restoration and redemption of Israel. And (as N. T. Wright uses as part of his foundation for the historical Jesus) Jesus goes about redefining the concept of Israel from the ground up. No longer is it based upon geographic or ethnic boundaries, but upon individual response to him.

So when Jesus comes in the manner of casting fire upon the earth he does so as part of the eschatological cleansing of Israel. And when he comes to be baptized with a specific baptism it is because he is absorbing the eschatological judgment in himself (to achieve what Israel could not survive). But this is only finds its proper context by seeing how Jesus comes to divide - by redefining ‘Israel’ as the eschatological kingdom community which is centered around the gospel message. Those who respond positively will have their judgment taken in Jesus’ second baptism of tribulation while those who respond negatively to the gospel will have the fire fall upon themselves. This is the restoration of God’s people and the establishment of his kingdom.

Questions remain. One important one: Is the final fulfillment of this left until the ‘not-yet’ period of inaugurated eschatology or do we see fiery judgment being cast at present?