Aslan and the Path of Faithful Pain
Written by John Stonestreet and Timothy D. Padgett |
Saturday, November 5, 2022
In and of itself, pain is not good, but it is meaningful. Pain indicates that something is wrong and needs to be addressed. Without pain, we’d never know. In the same way, breaking bad habits of the past requires pushing beyond our comfort levels, through the pain, and onward on the path to full restoration.
One of the most beloved and quotable scenes in The Chronicles of Narnia is from The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, when the children learn that Aslan is a lion, “the Lion, the great Lion.”
“Ooh!” said Susan, “I’d thought he was a man. Is he—quite safe? I shall feel rather nervous about meeting a lion.”
“Safe?” said Mr. Beaver…. “Who said anything about safe? ‘Course he isn’t safe. But he’s good. He’s the King, I tell you.”
Though we love the idea that God is not “safe,” we often live as if our safety or comfort marks the boundaries of our relationship with Him. Catechized by bad theology, captivated by our culture’s enablement of self-centeredness, or weary of an angry and fractious age, many Christians cannot conceive that God’s will for our lives could involve anything unpleasant or uncomfortable.
When it does and our expectations collapse, we wonder if God cares, having conflated God’s faithfulness with a painless, placid life of blessing and provision. We are quick to assume that pain or discomfort means that God’s will has been thwarted, or that His love and protection have been withdrawn. It’s difficult to accept that, rather than a sign of God’s absence, the presence of pain could be a sign of His sovereign care.
Throughout The Horse and His Boy, Aslan continually allows fear, hardship, and even physical pain for the main characters. When Shasta, one of the two main humans in the story, is fleeing from his abusive adoptive father on the Narnian horse Bree, a lion chases them through the darkness. Fleeing from the danger, he encounters another rider fleeing from, it seems, another lion. Aravis is also escaping her home on a talking Narnian horse. Their shared fear and confusion bring them together for a journey neither of them could have made without the other.
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The Altar & the Court | Exodus 27:1-19
The blood of animals never covered any sinner’s sins. Instead, they pointed forward to the once for all sacrifice that Christ would make for us. Although they did not know His name, all the Israelites who sacrificed and believed by faith that Yahweh had forgiven their sins were truly placing their faith in Christ. In this way, the animal sacrifices of the old covenant were more similar to our present taking of the Lord’s Supper than we might think. Both have no efficacy in and of themselves; rather, both point beyond themselves to Christ. Indeed, both were/are reminders.
Presently, in our study of the book of Exodus, we are considering the instructions for the building of the tabernacle that Yahweh gave to Moses in the span of forty days upon Sinai. As we have noted, the instructions began with the ark of the testimony, the most holy item that would reside in the Most Holy Place. It then moved outward to the table for the bread of the Presence and the golden lampstand, which would furnish the Holy Place. In the previous chapter, we moved outward yet again by considering the instructions for the tabernacle itself. That outward movement continues in our present chapter as we study the design of the bronze altar and the courtyard around the tabernacle in which it stood. As has been our pattern, we will consider the design and function of altar and the courtyard, and then we will conclude with how they are point us toward Christ.
The Bronze Altar // Verses 1-8
You shall make the altar of acacia wood, five cubits long and five cubits broad. The altar shall be square, and its height shall be three cubits. And you shall make horns for it on its four corners; its horns shall be of one piece with it, and you shall overlay it with bronze. You shall make pots for it to receive its ashes, and shovels and basins and forks and fire pans. You shall make all its utensils of bronze. You shall also make for it a grating, a network of bronze, and on the net you shall make four bronze rings at its four corners. And you shall set it under the ledge of the altar so that the net extends halfway down the altar. And you shall make poles for the altar, poles of acacia wood, and overlay them with bronze. And the poles shall be put through the rings, so that the poles are on the two sides of the altar when it is carried. You shall make it hollow, with boards. As it has been shown you on the mountain, so shall it be made.
These verses give us the description for how the bronze altar was to be built. Stuart notes:
Its top surface was thus four and a half feet high (“three cubits high”) off the ground and was a square seven and a half feet on each side (“five cubits long and five cubits wide”), providing a total of fifty-six and one-quarter feet of grilling area (minus whatever was taken up by the corner “horns” and any rim that may have surrounded the top, if either of these imposed upon the total surface of the top). (595)
Like the rest of the tabernacle, the altar needed to be portable, so it had loops and poles for carrying. It was also a hollow box, which, besides being necessary for building a fire, would also have made it much more maneuverable than if it were a solid cube.
As with the other pieces of furniture, it was to be built out of acacia wood, but unlike the items that actually belonged to the tabernacle itself, the altar would not be overlaid with gold but with bronze. This was for both a practical and theological purpose. Practically, gold is melted earlier than bronze, and the since the purpose of the altar was to burn sacrifices, bronze was a better metal to use than gold. Theologically, bronze being a less valuable metal represented being further away from the ark within the Most Holy Place.
The horns upon the corners of the altar likely served the practical function being place where the sacrificial animal could be bound while other preparations were made, for we read in Psalm 118:27: “The LORD is God, and he has made his light to shine upon us. Bind the festal sacrifice with cords, up to the horns of the altar!” However, they apparently took on the meaning of being a place of refuge, since both Adonijah and Joab fled from Solomon’s wrath by laying ahold of the horns of the altar.
Of course, the most important aspect of the altar was its use for burning the sacrifices that the Israelites would bring. As we discussed a few weeks ago, some of those sacrifices would be burned entirely, and some would only be roasted, have the fat burnt away, and then eaten. Yet regardless of the particular kind of sacrifice, Stuart notes that through these slaughtered animals:
God taught his people the basic principle of salvation from sin: something that God considers a substitute must die in my place so that I may live. Altar sacrifice was the primary way for this substitution to happen… By killing an animal, then cooking it on that grill in God’s presence (i.e., in front of the entrance to the tabernacle), and then eating it in God’s presence (symbolically sharing the meal with him), the Israelite worshiper learned over and over again the concept of substitutionary atonement and of covenant renewal. (594-595)
At least, it was supposed to reinforce that principle over and over again. Indeed, here is how Vern Poythress describes how a sacrifice was to be made:
In a typical case the process begins with the worshiper who brings an animal without defect to the priest. The worshiper has raised the animal himself or paid for it with his earnings, so that the animal represents a “sacrifice” in the modern sense of the word. It costs something to the worshiper, and a portion of the worshiper’s own life is identified with it. The worshiper lays his hand on the head of the animal, signifying his identification with it. He then kills the animal at the entranceway into the courtyard, signifying that the animals dies as a substitute for the worshiper.
From that point onward the priest takes over in performing the sacrificial actions. The intervention of the priest indicates that a specially holy person must perform the actions necessary to present the worshiper before God, even after the death of the animal. The priest takes some of the blood and sprinkles it on the side of the altar or on the horns of the altar…depending on the particular type of sacrifice… All of these actions constitute the permanent marking of the altar as testimony to the fact that the animal has died. (Cited in Ryken, Exodus, 817-818)
Each animal that an Israelite took from their field to slice its throat open before the bronze altar, screamed that “the wages of sin is death” (Romans 6:23). And as they placed their hand upon the animal’s head, they were to reflect that something innocent was taking their place. Because animals are not created in the image of God, they are not morally culpable as we are.
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Doctrine and Life: Let Us Not Divorce What God Has Joined Together
Paul repeatedly refers to sound doctrine in his Pastoral Epistles. He knows that sound, or healthy, doctrine does not give life; the Spirit of God. But anyone born the Spirit needs the know and grow in life-giving doctrines of God.
Keep a close watch on yourself and on the teaching [doctrine].Persist in this, for by so doing you will save both yourself and your hearers.—1 Timothy 4:16
Doctrine and life. Life and doctrine.
In Paul’s first letter to Timothy, he calls his pastoral protegé to embrace both and not let go of the other. And for anyone who cares about life or doctrine, we must also care about the other also. For doctrine without life is dead and life without sound doctrine is leading to death.
In truth, when doing theology if it does not lead someone to the giver of life, it is dead theology. But simultaneously, life that downplays doctrine is equally deadly. This is why Paul repeatedly refers to sound doctrine in his Pastoral Epistles. He knows that sound, or healthy, doctrine does not give life; the Spirit of God. But anyone born [of] the Spirit needs [to] know and grow in life-giving doctrines of God. This is why he says that by paying attention to doctrine, ‘you will save both yourself and your hearers.”
Simultaneously, because he knows that knowledge by itself can puff up (1 Cor. 8:1), and that not all studies in the Law are lawful (1 Tim. 1:3–11), he calls for Timothy to guard his life and his doctrine. Too many are the knowledgable theologians who did not guard their lives. And too many are the false professors who have general sense of theology but no life. Thus, we must always pursue doctrine for the sake of knowing the life-giving God. To expound this idea further, let me turn to two theologians who knew both doctrine and life.
William Ames (1576–1633) on Theology as Living to God
The first is William Ames (1576–1633). And in his Marrow of Theology, he defines theology as the privilege and necessity of finding life in God. As the Puritans always remind us, theology is never an end in itself; it is always a means of communing with the triune God. Ames definition of theology reflects this approach. And in thirteen points, he helps us to see how and why living before God (Coram Deo) is the essence, or marrow, of theology.Theology is the doctrine or teaching [doctrina] of living to God. John 6:68, The words of eternal life; Acts 5:20, The words of this life; Rom. 6:11, Consider yourselves alive to God.
It is called doctrine, not to separate it from understanding, wisdom, art, or prudence—for these go with every exact knowledge, discipline, and most of all with theology—but to mark it as a discipline which derives not from nature and human inquiry like others, but from divine revelation and appointment. Isa. 51:4, Doctrine shall go forth from me; Matt. 21:25, From heaven . . . Why then did you not believe him?; John 9:29, We know that God has spoken to Moses; Gal. 1:11-12, The gospel . . . is not according to man. For I neither received it from man, nor was I taught it, but it came through a revelation; John 6:45.
The principles of other arts, since they are inborn in us, can be developed through sense perception, observation, experience, and induction, and so brought to perfection. But the basic principles of theology, though they may be advanced by study and industry, are not in us by nature. Matt. 16:17, Flesh and blood has not revealed this to you.
Every art has its rules to which the work of the person practicing it corresponds. Since living is the noblest work of all, there cannot be any more proper study than the art of living.
Since the highest kind of life for a human being is that which approaches most closely the living and life-giving God, the nature of theological life is living to God.
Men live to God when they live in accord with the will of God, to the glory of God, and with God working in them. 1 Peter 4:2, 6, That he may live . . . by the will of God . . . according to God; Gal. 2:19-20, That I may live to God Christ who lives in me; 2 Cor. 4:10, That the life of Jesus may be manifest in our bodies; Phil. 1:20, Christ will be honored in my body, whether by life or by death.
This life in essence remains one and the same from its beginning to eternity. John 3:36 and 5:24, He who believes in the Son has eter. nal life; 1 John 3:15, Eternal life abiding in him.
Although it is within the compass of this life to live both happily and well living well (eusōia, is more excellent than living happily (eudaimonia). What chiefly and finally ought to be striven for is not happiness which has to do with our own pleasure, but goodness which looks to God’s glory. For this reason, theology is better defined as that good life whereby we live to God than as that happy life whereby we live to ourselves. The apostle therefore called it by synecdoche, the teaching which accords with godliness, 1 Tim. 6:3.Read More
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An Alternative to Winsomeness
The irony is that it is only when our virtue is recognized as commendable by unbelievers that we stand to win them to our faith or compel them to regard us favorably. Aspiring to be winsome will not likely gain their approval or conversion; but demonstrated virtue sometimes does. That being so, why not strive for virtue, which is pleasing to God (2 Pet. 1:11) and good for our fellow man, and lay aside all concern about being regarded as winsome?
For some time now many among us have been extolling winsomeness as a trait to which we should all aspire. It is an understandable effort, as many in the Reformed world have a tendency to be contentious and ungracious. But winsomeness is not the proper response to their incivility; indeed, I daresay that what is needed in many cases is a dose of blunt rebuke. The problem with winsomeness, as I have tried to show elsewhere (here and here), is that it is not a scriptural concept but a cultural one, the state of being perceived by others as charming, likable, and pleasant. No one who is faithful in emulating Christ and declaring his truth is likely to be perceived as winsome by the world – in his words, “you will be hated by all nations for my name’s sake” (Matt. 24:9) – and the danger is that we will compromise our message in the probably vain hope of being perceived as winsome by unbelievers.
There is an alternative ideal to which we might aspire, however, and unlike winsomeness it is reliably within our power to achieve. In addressing the conflict-troubled church at Philipi Paul instructs his audience about a way of living that is pleasing to God:
Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. (Phil. 4:8, ESV)
Peter does similarly in his second epistle:
His divine power has granted to us all things that pertain to life and godliness, through the knowledge of him who called us to his own glory and excellence, by which he has granted to us his precious and very great promises, so that through them you may become partakers of the divine nature, having escaped from the corruption that is in the world because of sinful desire. For this very reason, make every effort to supplement your faith with virtue, and virtue with knowledge, and knowledge with self-control, and self-control with steadfastness, and steadfastness with godliness, and godliness with brotherly affection, and brotherly affection with love. (2 Pet. 1:3-7, ESV)
In each case several desirable traits are presented. In the interests of simplicity I shall sum them up with the term virtue. This is the word that many English translations use for the Greek ἀρετῇ/ἀρετήν (areté/aretén) in 2 Pet. 1:5, but it has a variety of meanings, and I use it here in its widest, most general sense to mean simply moral excellence. That broad category includes within it the various particulars mentioned by both Peter and Paul: virtue is the general principle and disposition of character that issues as such particular traits as purity and godliness.
The virtuous person is the one who has this principle of moral excellence implanted in his or her person, and who thinks, speaks, and acts in light of it. As the wicked and foolish act in accord with their basic natures (Prov. 10:14; Isa. 32:6), so also do the virtuous and the wise (Prov. 10:23; 14:5). It is this fact of having a basic character disposition and acting in light of it that is presupposed by verses such as Rev. 22:11 (“Let the evildoer still do evil, and the filthy still be filthy, and the righteous still do right, and the holy still be holy.”)
Virtue has its source in God, for it is he “who works in you, both to will and to work for his good pleasure” (Phil. 2:11). It arises because of our new nature in Christ. Having been born again (1 Jn. 2:29), we have a new life that is hostile to sin and which is characterized by the fear of the Lord (Eph. 4:17-24). This life is marked by union with Christ (2 Cor. 5:15; Gal. 2:20) and guidance by the Spirit (Rom. 8:1-17), and while it can never be lost or extinguished (Eph. 1:13-14; 4:30), like our physical life it needs to be diligently guarded and nourished (2 Tim. 1:6-7, 14). It is because it can be developed and strengthened that Paul and Peter tell us to do so in the passages above.
Virtue is present also in the lives of many unbelievers. Experience attests that some of them attain to a high degree of moral uprightness. Yet there is a difference in that in believers virtue arises because of God’s saving grace that has been manifested in their new birth and sanctification (2 Cor. 5:17; 1 Pet. 1:3-5, 23), while in unbelievers virtue is a result of God’s common grace. Where believers attain to a righteousness that is well-pleasing to God because they have been justified (Rom 3:22-28; 5:1) and their good works are God’s work within them (Eph. 2:10), the unbeliever attains to a merely civil righteousness. His uprightness is frequently marred by self-interest (such as the desire for praise) or is counteracted by other faults. Cicero’s honesty and courage are undermined by his arrogance; Cato’s opposition to the power hungry by his suicide at the end of the Roman Republic. God in his providence has been pleased to use virtue among unbelievers to restrain evil from fully dominating human affairs (as happened before the flood, Gen. 6:5), but their virtue does not reconcile them to God, nor release them from sin’s dominion (Rom. 3:9-19). Only faith in Christ suffices to do that (Gal. 5:5-6; Heb. 11:6).
There is a curious practical consequence of God causing virtue in unbelievers. It creates a state of affairs in which, because virtue is esteemed, the virtue of believers may impress unbelievers and commend our faith to them. This is far from certain or automatic, but it is a real possibility to which experience attests and which forms the basis of some of scripture’s practical injunctions (Matt. 5:16; Titus 2:7-8; 1 Pet. 2:12, 15; 3:1-2, 16). The irony is that it is only when our virtue is recognized as commendable by unbelievers that we stand to win them to our faith or compel them to regard us favorably. Aspiring to be winsome will not likely gain their approval or conversion; but demonstrated virtue sometimes does. That being so, why not strive for virtue, which is pleasing to God (2 Pet. 1:11) and good for our fellow man, and lay aside all concern about being regarded as winsome?
Tom Hervey is a member of Woodruff Road Presbyterian Church (PCA) in Simpsonville, S.C.Related Posts: