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Apparently I sigh a lot – usually when I’m frustrated, angry, defeated, or impatient. Sometimes it’s all of these. So, when I read that Jesus sighed in front of the deaf and dumb man He was about to heal (Mark 7:34), I’m puzzled.
As His sighs are perfect, they cannot be caused by frustration, anger, defeat or impatience. So what produced this sinless sigh, a sigh of such significance that Mark included it in his Gospel? There are four possible components in this sigh:
1. A Sigh of Comparison: Just as we might sigh when we see a previously beautiful house or garden ruined by neglect or vandalism, so Jesus sighed when He saw the previously beautiful humanity that He had made (Jn. 1:3; Col. 1:16) now so ruined and vandalized by sin and its consequences. This sigh was all the deeper as it focused on the two senses of speech communication that had so distinguished humanity. How the mighty had fallen!
2. A Sigh of Conquest: As the weightlifter groans, gasps, and sighs as he lifts the bending bar, so Jesus articulated the effort involved in this healing by similar sighs and groans. And remember Jesus was not just healing physical deafness and dumbness, He was most likely also saving a soul. Surely this was not “effortless,” but rather it cost Him and drained Him
3. A Sigh of Concern. This man had never heard or said anything sinful. His disabilities had reduced his sin opportunities. But Jesus knew that when he started hearing and speaking, his ears and his lips would start sinning. How worrying and concerning for Christ. He saw that greater temptations would now come his way and expressed His concerned pity through this sigh. Maybe the time would come when this man might wish he had never been able to speak and hear. Some of us may have felt this too at times.
4. A Sigh of Compassion: As Jesus saw the devastation visited upon the apex of God’s creation because of sin, He sighed with sympathy and empathy. “He took our sicknesses and carried our sorrows” (Matt. 8:17) does not mean that Christ suffered all our diseases, experienced our disabilities, and endured chicken pox, measles, flu, etc. However, it does mean that He was able to enter into such diseases, disabilities, and ailments and feel them as if he was going through them himself. In fact, with his perfect imagination and sensitivity, He was able to feel such things even more deeply than the actual sufferers.
How wonderful to have a Savior who is touched with the feeling of our infirmities. I can bring all my sighs to Christ, because He has felt them even more than I have.
3 reasons to pursue life-giving rest
“How are you?” “Busy.” I find myself hearing this and saying this far too often. Busy is a badge of honour in our culture and many of us wear it to display significance, importance and to appear needed. (HT: Aaron Armstrong)
Got a question? You might like the new feature at Gentle Reformation.
An update on Reformation Bible College
RC Sproul: “I would have given anything to have been able to go to a college like this after I graduated from high school.”
“The Lord not only designed the animals for naturalistic functions such as pollinating plants or providing you with food and clothing, but to be an intentional, constant reflection to you of spiritual lessons?”
Literal, Historical, Poetical?
Justin links to some important definitions.
I’ve been enjoying reading through Scott Thomas’s book The Gospel Coach. Scott’s compassion for pastors and his heart for the church is evident throughout and proven by years of involvement in leadership training. There’a a wealth of theological and practical help for pastors, especially for those with a burden to train the next generation of church leaders. One of the unexpected highlights for me was the extremely helpful, thought-provoking, and memorable graphics – they really seal the teaching in your mind and heart. Thus far, I’m giving the book a hearty recommendation.
Given the balanced biblical tone of the book, I was therefore surprised to read some of the lines in Scott’s recent article Why every church leader needs the Gospel. There’s much I totally agree with in this piece, but the opening paragraphs did concern me. There, Scott noted the disturbing statistics about pastoral depression, obesity, burnout, etc., and then expressed concern that some pastors are “leaning on humanistic devices to cope with life and the stresses of ministry.” But he included some surprising suspects among these “humanistic devices”:
How do we, as church leaders, cope with the stress? I think we resort to methods that any leader could try, regardless of their faith in Jesus Christ. We try taking up hobbies, personal retreats, days off, and vacations. These are not bad things, but they are not answers. They should be expressions of resting in our identity in Christ, not the means to find rest.
What’s Scott saying here? Some options are:
If it’s #3, then I’m not quite sure what would satisfy here. Can I go running, but only if I remember who I am in Christ first? It’s confusing, isn’t it, and perhaps reveals some of the deep dualism that continues to undermine evangelicalism: soul good but body bad. Or to put it another way, all problems are “Gospel” problems.
I wouldn’t be so heavy on men who rebuild their weak and weary bodies and minds with “music, massage, guns, or mental holidays.” I don’t think these men are necessarily denying their identity in Christ. In fact, in some ways they could be recognizing their God-given identity in an even more fundamental way than the most Gospel-centered among us – that is, their identity as creatures.
In my own experience, most pastors get their identity as sinners saved by glorious grace. What they don’t get, or what gets pushed to the sidelines by their wonderful passion for the Gospel and mission, is that they are limited, dependent creatures who need to find out their physical, mental, and emotional limitations, work within them, and rebuild them using the means God has provided (e.g. exercise, rest, hobbies, etc.) when they are depleted.
Or, to put it another way, our identity in Christ begins not with recognizing Christ as Savior, but with recognizing Him as our Creator and we as His creatures (John 1:3; Col: 1:16). If we don’t build on that foundation, and instead start trying to live as disembodied Gospel-centered spirits, don’t be surprised if the body begins to crack and crumble. What most stressed-out pastors need to hear first is not, “Don’t you know you’re a Christian?” but rather, “Don’t you know you’re a creature?”
Sometimes the most Christ-centered, God-honoring thing we can do is to take a nap rather than pray. Or even have a massage (from your wife, of course), rather than prepare another message.
18 tips for “little things” to boost your happiness at the office
Need to work on # 9, 10, 16.
How to preach like Phil Ryken and Duane Liftin without sounding like them
Especially liked Ryken’s #2 and Liftin’s #1.
The Excluded Male
J C Penney are starting down a dangerous path.
Is “the culture” really the Church’s problem?
Ken Myers says, “No, it’s the culture in the church that’s the problem as many believers live not fully transformed by the Gospel.
15% Discount at Ligonier
If you are buying anything from the Ligonier store, enter HHH15 and you’ll get a 15% discount.
PRTS Graduation Ceremony
Come along and hear Sinclair Ferguson deliver the Commencement address or else watch online. And while we’re on the subject of the Seminary, here’s a mission in Gambia (pages 8&9 of the pdf) that’s using PRTS distance learning courses to advance theological education there.
When we see someone in pain, and we can make it better, should we do so?
That’s the essence of My Chick Problem.
My two little girls are in tear-filled, chick-less pain. I can make it better by driving an hour north where more chicks are available. Should I?
For most people, it’s a no-brainer. The kids want; the parents can get; therefore get. Why let the kids “suffer”?
Well, I must admit, my first instinct was “Pull out the stops, Superhero, and ride to the rescue.” The unforgettably painful sight of two suddenly deflated little girls hanging tearfully over cold, lifeless chick bins would melt the harshest dictator’s heart. Instead of the much-anticipated cuddly, yellow, warmth – nothing. What’s a two-hour drive to fix this?
But with preaching tomorrow, can I really afford the time?
I know, PETCO. Just 10 mins down the road; grab a rabbit, a hamster, or some other rodent, and kill two birds with one stone (well, not literally, but you know what I mean).
Then I remembered my two pet rabbits from 35 years ago. STINK! And I know who’ll end up cleaning out the hut.
And Shona keeps whispering in my ear, “There’s a lesson in this, David.”
“I know, I know, but look at their faces.”
I so much want to be their hero.
What about another cat? I’ve resisted this for a year, after the trauma of hearing Fluffy’s squeal when she was half-squashed by a car; then having to tend her as she lay dying a week before she was due to give birth to her first kittens. Five little lives faded before my eyes. Anyway, I’m trying to block that.
Cellphone + Craigslist = $5 kitten within 30 mins. Superdad rides to the rescue!
But should I?
There is a lesson in this. More than one: you can’t get everything you want; if you set your heart too much on something, God can take it away; if happiness depends on things – even lovely, cuddly, yellow things – what happens when there are no things?
Am I willing to sacrifice these invaluable life lessons for the sake of being a temporary Superhero? Will I give up the opportunity to teach self-denial, patience, contentment, and submission to my children – just to make them (and me) feel better for a short time?
Four days later, we are still pet-less. (Hope you don’t hate me!) One of the girls bounced back quite quickly. The other moped and mourned a bit for a half day or so. But I steeled my heart and stayed the course.
The “compromise” is that we will probably get another cat…eventually, once the lessons have been really learned, by the girls…and by me.
Because I think this was sent to teach me more than them. I learned more about God in these empty chick bins and wet eyes than I have in many a sermon. My Father sees my pain and can relieve it in an instant. But He “reluctantly” chooses not to.
Because He wants to be much more than a briefly-appreciated Superhero delivering me from outward troubles and trials. He wants to be my Savior, delivering me from my sin and drawing me into a deeper relationship with Him.
Photo Credit: BigStockPhoto.