http://rss.desiringgod.org/link/10732/16072341/the-whale-and-the-cow
Though only four chapters long, the book of Jonah is filled strange and unique elements.
Whereas most prophets speak to other nations from Israel, God calls Jonah to address Nineveh from Nineveh. Prophets often resist God’s call, but Jonah actually runs away. On the boat headed for Joppa, idolatrous sailors encounter the living God and immediately begin to worship him. And then, of course, Jonah survives the sea by being swallowed by an enormous fish and living in its belly for three days.
When Jonah finally does preach to the Ninevites, they respond to his preaching with unrivaled repentance — and everyone, including the animals, takes part in mourning for sin. And though every preacher I know longs for Nineveh-like revival, Jonah is distraught at the city’s repentance and angry that God would show such wide compassion.
Finally, the book doesn’t end with a nice resolution. By the Lord’s providence, a plant grows up quickly to shade Jonah from the heat, but then, by that same providence, a worm destroys the plant. In the face of Jonah’s anger, God asks the prophet a question that is also intended for the reader: “Should not I pity Nineveh, that great city, in which there are more than 120,000 persons who do not know their right hand from their left, and also much cattle?” (Jonah 4:11).
Among all these strange and unique elements, consider the book’s last phrase. Why does the story of Jonah end with the mention of “also much cattle”?
God’s Angry Prophet
To get to an answer to that question, let’s remember the near context. Chapter 4 begins with Jonah enraged with God. And here, we find out why Jonah ran away from Nineveh the first time. He tells the Lord, “I knew that you are a gracious God and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love, and relenting from disaster” (Jonah 4:2). Jonah didn’t want to go to Nineveh because he knew the Lord’s heart to bless; he knew and believed the Lord’s own self-disclosure that he is gracious and merciful and relents from disaster (Exodus 34:6–7).
Because Jonah knew God’s character, he knew that if he went to Nineveh and preached, the Ninevites might turn from their violence — and God, being the gracious God he is, would relent. Jonah was running away from giving Nineveh an opportunity to experience the mercy of God. One of the tragic ironies of this book is that Jonah himself experiences great mercy from the Lord (who spares him from death through the great fish), and yet Jonah is angry when the Ninevites experience that same mercy.
“God is the missionary in this book, pursuing both Nineveh and his prophet with amazing grace.”
But just as God drew near to Cain when Cain was angry at him (Genesis 4:6–7), in mercy and compassion, God draws near to Jonah. Though Jonah is quick to anger, the Lord is slow to anger. He asks Jonah an important heart-revealing question: “Do you do well to be angry?” (Jonah 4:4). God is not only interested in Nineveh experiencing his mercy; he is also pursuing Jonah. God is the missionary in this book, pursuing both Nineveh and his prophet with his amazing grace.
While Jonah waits to see what God will do with Nineveh, God moves into the next stage of pursuing Jonah’s angry heart. After Jonah makes some shade for himself from the heat, the Lord appoints a plant to add extra shade. Jonah is very happy about the Lord’s kindness to him (Jonah 4:6). But when God appoints a worm to destroy the plant, and a scorching east wind to beat down on, Jonah is angry again — this time about the loss of the plant that shaded him from the heat. And now, in a very personal way, the Lord draws near to highlight his own compassion for Nineveh.
Pitying Plants and People
God’s words to Jonah follow a common form of argumentation as he moves from the lesser to the greater:
You pity the plant, for which you did not labor, nor did you make it grow, which came into being in a night and perished in a night. And should not I pity Nineveh, that great city, in which there are more than 120,000 persons who do not know their right hand from their left, and also much cattle? (Jonah 4:10–11)
In this question, God affirms that Jonah is right, in a way, to have pity for the plant. But Jonah neither labored for nor cultivated the plant, and he experienced its relief for only a day. If Jonah is right to have compassion on the plant, is not the Lord’s right to have compassion on a city of more than 120,000 people, along with much cattle?
Now, with the context settled, we can get back to our question: Why does the Lord mention cattle?
In one sense, the mention of cattle is simply a part of the lesser-to-greater argument. Plants are important, and Jonah is right to have pity for the plant, but people and cattle are even more important than plants. Isn’t it right for the Lord to have pity on a great city with all kinds of people and cattle?
But to me and other commentators, the mention of cattle also signals something important that we need to remember about God’s love for all creation, for all he himself has made, from plants to animals to humans.
God’s Care for All His Works
God has made humans in his image (Genesis 1:26–27), and this was the crowning act of the six days of creation. He made humans a little lower than the angels (Psalm 8:5). To save humans, the Son of God became like us in every way, except for sin (Hebrews 2:17; 4:15). We humans are of great value to God, and though we have rebelled, God has much mercy for us.
At the same time, though not in the same way, God cares about animals. He has pity and compassion on animals. Animals are his creation, and God cares about what animals experience in his world. This is one of the reasons Israel was not to muzzle the ox (Deuteronomy 25:4). This is also why Jesus teaches us not to be anxious, based on the beauty of the plants of the field and the Father’s care for birds (Matthew 6:25–34). Notice Jesus’s lesser-to-greater argument regarding our Father’s care:
Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? (Matthew 6:26)
Jesus’s logic is clear. Our Father feeds and cares for the birds of the air; they have what they need when they need it, though they do not sow, reap, or gather. The Father himself feeds them. And we are of more value than birds.
“Just because we humans are of more value than birds, plants, or cattle doesn’t mean they are of no value.”
But just because we humans are of more value than birds, plants, or cattle doesn’t mean they are of no value to our gracious and compassionate God. Cattle are of value to God, and we are to value them, as he does.
He Cares for Cattle — and Dogs
We could apply God’s surprising regard for animals in various ways, but I want to close with just one.
In 2007, I had to euthanize the first dog my wife and I owned. His name was Elliott, and he was a black-and-white English springer spaniel who went everywhere with us. We loved Elliott. I learned how to pheasant and grouse hunt with him, and we had a great bond. But in time, his body filled with cancer. When I took him to the vet to be with him in his last moments, I was not prepared for the waves of grief that would come upon me then and for weeks after we put him down. I felt silly and embarrassed telling friends about this because I would start to weep. He was just a dog, but I was grieving as if I had lost a close friend.
And that’s when Jonah 4:11 and the Lord’s pity for cattle started to help me. Yes, Elliott was a dog. But the Lord cares about dogs because he created dogs. I am right to have compassion on my dog. The Lord is right to have compassion on cattle; he made, sustains, and cares for cattle. Even more, God is right to have compassion on Nineveh, that great city. And it is absolutely amazing that the Lord would have compassion on me and you.
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The Clay-Pot Conspiracy: Hope for Leaders Losing Heart
One year ago, we lost our youngest daughter to her longstanding battle against addiction. Walking alongside her in this multiyear struggle sank us into parts of this broken world we never dreamed we would inhabit. Dark places with desperate people became familiar terrain. We fought for life. Death won. Now our precious daughter is gone. Each morning I stare into the eyes of her 2-year-old son, now entrusted to us.
Since then, I’ve learned a lot about grief. I have seen how it attacks meaning and motivation. Grief creeps up and seizes a moment, an hour, an afternoon. I think it’s going to be like this for a while. The shadow of death; the empty chair; the burden of shame; the clay pot, broken.
Ministry, if I’m honest, is conflicting. It’s been more splendid than I possibly expected and more painful than I ever dreamed. Somewhere along the way, I began to think differently about resilience. It’s no longer the place I am reaching for after the pain. It’s the work of God, in and through mystery and agony, by which he is helping me persevere in a way that reveals his power.
Treasure in Jars of Clay
In 1947, a young Bedouin shepherd was herding his flock on a hill near the Dead Sea. Since sheep are prone to wander, one little lamb ambled away. The shepherd set out on a search that led him to a dark cave on the northwestern ridge.
The young shepherd approached the cave mouth, peered inside, and then chucked a rock into the darkness. Something shattered. Crawling through the entrance, the intrepid shepherd came face to face with an archaeological wonder.
The boy found a row of enormous clay pots, larger than him — each one sealed shut. Popping one lid, he found ancient scrolls inside — some wrapped in linen, others blackened to the point of being unreadable. Little did the shepherd know that he would be immortalized as the guy who discovered the Dead Sea Scrolls.
A treasure of incomprehensible value. Stored in clay pots.
Clay-Pot Conspiracy
Make no mistake: ministry is hard. We come aboard assuming God tapped us for our strengths. But God’s program incorporates many of our weaknesses. In a broken world, ministry is often conveyed through broken vessels. Listen to how the apostle Paul describes it:
We have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us. We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed; always carrying in the body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in our bodies. For we who live are always being given over to death for Jesus’ sake, so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in our mortal flesh. So death is at work in us, but life in you. (2 Corinthians 4:7–12)
Paul faced opposition in Corinth. Tradition has it that he was somewhat unattractive and sported some kind of eye condition (see 2 Corinthians 10:10; Galatians 4:13–15). From his opponents’ point of view, Paul was too plain, too contemptible, too weak. But Paul counters with a decidedly unconventional defense. To the charge that he’s insufficient, Paul says, “Guilty.” To the charge that he’s an unrefined orator, Paul repeats, “Guilty.” To the charge that he’s weak, Paul asserts, “Guilty!” Paul flips the script on his detractors by saying, “You think my weakness disqualifies me. But actually, it’s the core of my credentials.”
Paul discovered a secret: his weakness was an opportunity for God’s power. He learned that when our weakness meets God’s grace, strength abounds. It’s what I like to call the “clay-pot conspiracy.”
Although the word conspiracy has dark overtones, I think it accurately conveys the essence behind God’s hidden agenda. God has a covert plan to sabotage the enemy and to display his power. It’s a secret design to humble the proud, abolish boasting, and establish the ground for our longevity.
That’s what I mean by the clay-pot conspiracy. And it’s as simple as this: Our weakness + God’s power = resilient ministry.
Filled with Gospel
Paul states, “We have treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us” (2 Corinthians 4:7).
Paul’s treasure is his gospel ministry. Paul is speaking about the resplendent worth of the incomparable gospel, the priceless message about the Savior who left the glory of heaven and died to save sinners. But let’s connect a couple of dots. Gospel ministry is a privilege many of us share with Paul. It is a privilege that we’re called to when we enter ministry as leaders in the local church. We share the glorious honor of proclaiming the gospel of Jesus Christ, to see the light of God’s glory go forward through the finished work of Jesus.
Now comes the conspiracy. At the heart of this passage rests a stunning contrast. This incomprehensible treasure is stored in fragile jars of clay. Church leader, God is talking about you. You have something of infinite value stored in your ministry, your body, your life — your clay pot. You are the receptacle; you are the clay pot in which the treasure of the gospel rests.
Can You Own Your Weakness?
When I was 7 years old, my brother — such a nutcase, my brother — called me over to the gravel parking lot across from our house. “Dave,” he said. “Come here. I want to show you something.”
In his hand was a gold nugget — at least what looked like a gold nugget; I didn’t yet see the gold spray-paint cans littered on the ground around his feet.
“Whoa! Where did you get that?” I said.
“Right here, man!” he said. “And they’re sprinkled all over the parking lot. It’s filled with gold!”
I stood astounded. But my brother was just getting started. “And guess what? I bought the whole lot!”
Then he stepped forward. “And since I’m your brother, here’s the first piece of gold from my new lot.” He reached over and set the spray-painted piece of gravel in my sweaty hand. When I close my eyes, I can still remember the sensation of awe as I palmed this priceless mineral that had transformed me into a wildly wealthy kid.
Feeling the burden of spontaneous wealth, I knew my gold needed to be secured. So I ran home, rushed upstairs, and grabbed a shoe box. I put my gold nugget in the middle of the shoe box, and I stuffed newspaper all around it. Then I wrapped it in duct tape (because we all know that duct tape is impregnable to burglars). The box then went into the bottom drawer of my dresser (because no criminal would ever think of going into the bottom drawer). Even at 7, I knew that my treasure should be in the safest place I could find.
But God’s strategy is different. God stores his treasure in something common and breakable. We think our battle with anxiety makes us less effective to lead. We assume our bodily illness or our prodigal child means the end of usefulness for God. But beneath your pain there is a plan — the clay-pot conspiracy. God is working to make your life speak in ways you never imagined. How? God stores his treasure in clay to show that the surpassing power belongs to him and not to us (2 Corinthians 4:7).
We are not always strong. We are weak. And the only way to experience God’s surpassing power is to own our fragility. God stores his treasure in jars of clay. Can you own it?
Break the Pot to Free the Power
The intruders in Corinth were known for boasting about their power — for talking incessantly about the triumphs of their leadership. So, Paul says to them, “Let me share with you my ministry profile.” Then, the apostle provides these four contrasts (2 Corinthians 4:8–9):
“We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed.”
“We are . . . perplexed, but not driven to despair.”
“We are . . . persecuted, but not forsaken.”
“We are . . . struck down, but not destroyed.”Ministry, for Paul, was complicated and excruciating. It was a life where you’re afflicted, baffled, persecuted, and struck down. Paul summarizes it by saying, “We are . . . always carrying in the body the death of Jesus” (2 Corinthians 4:10).
“Your pain is designed to produce a leader who embodies the gospel message.”
As with Paul, your pain is designed to produce a leader who embodies the gospel message. God triggers experiences of death in us so that gospel life might flow. It’s a series of trials where your kids see you maligned, but you do not retaliate; where one sleepless night rolls into the next; where you keep loving when you feel like your heart is empty.
But it’s all part of the plan. Death is at work “so that the life of Jesus also may be manifested in our mortal flesh.” Do you see the plan? God breaks the pot to free the power.
That’s right. Your weaknesses and struggles — the very places your mind is going as you read this — are the very places God makes his power known most clearly. You are walking the path behind Paul. “I carry death, so that the life of Christ may be manifested in me.”
It’s strange, isn’t it? We come into leadership thinking the kingdom advances by strong people using amazing gifts to bear epic fruit. But God says, “Not really. When I want to shape a soul for service, I bid him to come and die. When I want my gospel to ring forth, I break the pot.”
Your suffering is meant to produce life for others. It’s not merely confounding. It’s the clay-pot conspiracy. Our weakness + God’s power = resilient ministry.
Resilience Right Now
Leader, remember: Your suffering is not an obstacle to resilience. It’s the means of producing it. It’s all part of God’s conspiracy, where “suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope” (Romans 5:3–4). God breaks the pot to shape the soul. It’s a mysterious grace we are given, a grace upon which we stand (Romans 5:2).
If you’re struggling for resilience right now, remember: Your pot is not the first to be broken. The clay pot of Christ’s body was broken for our sins. Then Christ rose from death on the third day. It’s the conspiracy’s origin: God made death produce life.
“From the ashes of your brokenness, God is kindling the fire of hope and life.”
Leaders, don’t begrudge the nails that pin you to the cross. Don’t despise your places of death. From the ashes of your brokenness, God is kindling the fire of hope and life. Though it baffles the mind, those wounds are fortifying the resilience you seek. And they are preparing your soul to meet a Savior. Each day in heaven will be more glorious because of what you have borne on earth.
When I look into my grandson’s eyes and see my daughter, the pang reminds me that God breaks the pot to free his power. If you’re in ministry and experiencing any kind of loss, the breaking is also forging a more durable soul. The kind that reminds the world of the true power behind a crucified Savior.
My weakness plus God’s power equals my resilience. It’s the clay-pot conspiracy. And it is magnificent!
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A New Argument for How to Live: Ephesians 5:8–14, Part 1
http://rss.desiringgod.org/link/10732/14977247/a-new-argument-for-how-to-live
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The Heart of Fake Happiness
Audio Transcript
Happy Wednesday, and welcome to this sermon-clip day on the podcast. For a long time now, I have been drawn to a little two-part message Pastor John delivered in the spring of 2010. And from this pair of messages, I want to share some clips with you on the podcast today and in the weeks ahead.
Historically, the sermons are interesting. Pastor John was about to take an eight-month leave of absence, away from the pulpit, to work some things out in his own heart and in his family. We’ve talked about this leave, and the lessons he would eventually take away from it, particularly in three episodes: APJs 138, 220, and 1227. As you know from those episodes, it was a defining season for him. But first he had to prepare his church for this leave. And that makes the tone of these sermons interesting, too. These two 2010 sermons are parting words to his church. And because of that, they carry an urgency, as you’ll hear.
So how does a preacher say goodbye to his church for eight months? We get the answer in two messages. These messages go deep inside the plan of God for his people. They go down to the deepest foundation of our very joy. And in that context, here’s the first interesting clip I want to feature on APJ. It gets right at the heart of what drives John Piper and his ministry. How’s he wired? Why does he do ministry the way he does it? Without further introduction, here he is to explain on April 18, 2010, two weeks out from his ministry leave, speaking of his recent travels and what makes him tick. Here he is.
Almost always when I leave the church and go away to speak somewhere, I give messages that are the overflow of things I’ve done here. I don’t generally make new things up to say anywhere else. I just try to apply to others what I’ve been thinking about and applying to you over the years.
However, at the end of February I went to Seattle, and on the way to Seattle I was on the plane — we had about a four-hour flight — and prayed earnestly that God would give me a message for them. And there was in my mind churning this issue of how to say in a fresh way something I’ve said over and over again for who knows how many years, and I delivered that message three times. I was crafting it in my head and then trying it out on all those people for you. I wanted to get it right so that when I tried to bring clarity here, I wouldn’t be stumbling around like I did in a couple of those messages, I think.
Driving Question
So here’s the thing that needs clarification, evidently. And this goes out of some conversations I’ve had, and those of you who conversed with me will know who I’m talking about. I appreciate them. The question that I’ve asked audiences for ten years maybe is this: Do you feel more loved by God when he makes much of you, or when he, at great cost to his Son, frees you to enjoy making much of him forever?
I’ve just asked that everywhere I’ve gone, all over the country, for ten years or so. Do you feel more loved by God because he makes much of you, or that he, at great cost to his Son, frees you and empowers you to enjoy making much of him forever?
I liked that question a lot. I still do. And I’ll try to explain why. The aim of that question was never and is not now to deny that God makes much of us. He does, and we’ll get to that shortly. The aim has been to help people relocate the bottom, the deepest foundation, of their joy from self to God.
Two Kinds of Christians
So let me try to explain and help you understand something that makes me tick and why I speak the way I do about things like this. “Why do you go around the country saying such things, and shake people up like that, and cause some of them to misunderstand?” And here’s the bottom line — and even this I fear is going to be misunderstood, so I’m going to jump on a clarification of it as soon as I say it: I am more concerned — this has been true for thirty years — about nominal, hell-bound Christians who feel loved by God than I am about genuine, heaven-bound Christians who don’t feel loved by God.
Let me say it again. I don’t know why, but as I just do what I feel like doing in the word and in preaching, I feel more concerned for nominal, hell-bound, churchgoing Christians who feel loved by God than I do about genuine, authentic, born-again, heaven-bound Christians who don’t feel loved by God.
Now, lest any of you poor souls who don’t feel loved by God, and there are many of you, think that means, “He doesn’t care about us; he just said so” — I didn’t! I care really deeply about that issue. But if I have to rank who I want to jostle and bring, I want to rescue people who are totally deceived about whether God loves them or not, savingly.
But I really, really care about my family, you, and whether you live in a halfway Christian life, knowing he loves you and never feeling it, and really saved — really saved because there’s that seed deep down that you’d die for him in a minute, and you just wish you could marvel at it more. So, don’t hear me saying I don’t care about that or I don’t want to invest in it. This sermon is that investment, and I hope I can do more without letting the other one go. So what I’m doing in explaining what makes me tick is try to give a perspective on why I emphasize what I emphasize.
Why Do You Want Jesus?
There are millions of nominal Christians who are not born again, and who believe God loves them, and are on their way to hell. And the difference between them and a born-again believer is what’s at the bottom of what makes them happy. As you penetrate down, down, down, down, down, down to what makes them happy and you get to the bottom, it’s different for a born-again person and an unborn-again person.
“There are millions of nominal Christians who believe God loves them and are on their way to hell.”
Millions of nominal Christians have never experienced a fundamental change in the foundation of their happiness. They haven’t experienced it. They go to church for other reasons. Instead, they’ve absorbed the notion that becoming a Christian means turning to Jesus to get what you always wanted before you were born again. No change in what you want. No change in the bottom, the foundation of what thrills you — just get it from a new place. The baggage in the hotel room is the same; they just got a different bellhop. The meal stays the same; they just got a different butler. And they think they’re Christian, and they feel really loved because he’s producing. “My life is going better.”
They want a happy marriage, so they turn to him to get it. They want peace of conscience, so they turn to him to get it. They want freedom from guilt feelings, so they turn to him to get it. They want to escape from hell, so they turn to him to get it. And every unregenerate person on the planet wants those things. You don’t have to be born again to want out of hell. You don’t have to be born again to want a good marriage. You don’t have to be born again to want any of those things.
So what’s new? Got a different bellhop, different butler, a different servant to give me what I want. I’m concerned about those people. There’s some here. I would suspect, in this room, not as many as the other kind. I think God will hold me more accountable for trying to help those people wake up than for helping his precious children feel more of him, though this sermon is about that, and I’m just setting the stage for why I talk the way I talk. I haven’t even started yet.
Change in Our Deepest Delights
In other words, they would say, these people I’m so concerned about, “We have desires and we turn to Jesus to get them met, and he is so loving to meet them.” No change at the bottom, no change in your cravings, in what makes you most deeply happy. No change in the decisive foundation. You just shop at a new store.
That’s not the new birth. The new birth is not having all the same desires that you had as an unregenerate person and then getting them from a new source. That’s not the new birth. The new birth changes the bottom, changes the root, changes the foundation of what makes us happy. Self at the bottom is replaced by Jesus. Treasuring being made much of at the bottom is replaced by treasuring Jesus. Everything changes.
“What makes the born-again person glad is not that they have God’s gifts, but that they have God.”
We don’t perfectly express these changes. That’s why I can be so confident that so many non-delighters are saved. What makes the born-again person glad is not, at the bottom, that they have God’s gifts, but that they have God. There’s the key way to see it.
You listen for it in the way they talk, the way they pray, and the way they speak to each other and to God. Are they most excited about his gifts, or are they most excited about him? Do they long for the people they love to see him, admire him, glorify him, live in him, hallow his name? Or do they only ask for and seek food, and clothing, and job, and the things the world wants?
It’s not wrong to pray for those things. It’s just what the world prays for. It’s not wrong to want those things. It’s just what the world wants. There’s no evidence in being born again that you want what the world wants and get it from God. Christians who are truly on their way to heaven and don’t feel loved by God are in a different category than that.
