Ben Zornes

Living and Dying to Show the Preciousness of Christ

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Advent Devotional

Hopes and Fears of All the Years

Hopes and Fears of All the Years

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Years ago, the church I attended had an interim pastor, whose name I don’t remember, who was from Australia. That is unimportant to the story, but I mention it anyway. Free of charge. Anyway…he served through the Christmas season that year, and I recall that his Christmas Eve sermon lingered on that phase from the carol O Little Town of Bethlehem:

“The hopes and fears of all the years, are met in thee tonight.”

What a great line. In the tradition of the pastor from down under, I’d like to run over the implications of that phrase.

Think of those 4000 years from Eden to Bethlehem, from Adam to the Second Adam, from ruin to redemption. Right after the fall, we see Eve overjoyed that she has conceived a child, a seed, and she must have hoped that this was God’s fulfillment of His promise. But her hopes were soon disappointed as this first child became the like the serpent: a murderer.

Noah was a preacher of righteousness in the midst of a world dwelling in the macabre caverns of indescribable wickedness and corruption. So God overthrows the world, and in a sense, starts over with Noah. But soon the hopes of mankind being restored to Eden are dashed to pieces.

Mankind builds a tower to the heavens. God thwarts their purpose. God calls Abram out of the moon-worshippers of Ur; he believes God through all the windings of his sojourns.

Down through the ages, the story runs, and it seems like the coils of the serpent are inevitable. Egypt enslaves the people of God. But God delivers them. But they soon show that the serpent’s poison is in them. They rebel, they wander, they conquer the promised land, then they do what is right in their own eyes, and are like toddlers who so easily forget.

They offer bulls, goats, and sheep without number. They demand a king, rather than God being their king. God grants their request, and the king is possessed by an evil spirit. God gives them good king David, but despite his (and his son’s) reign being quite glorious, they both falter, sin, fail.

The hopes of the believing Israelite were often brought to the brink. At one point, there’s only one child left in the Davidic line. Over and over, their fears seem to grow large, while their hope seems to fail. But every time, God brings about an unexpected deliverance. Foreshadowing His greatest triumph.

Cain wasn’t the savior, nor Noah, Abraham, Moses, David, or Daniel. Through wanderings, exiles, slavery, idolatry, sin, triumphs, conquests, and defeats, God was bringing all the hopes and fears of His people to focus on a single point in history. After Malachi’s prophecy there were 400 years of prophetic silence. Their hope had grown dim, their fears had multiplied.

And then a cry is heard. A child was born. Mankind’s hope for salvation from sin had finally been answered. Mankind’s fear of damnation had finally been silenced. So look towards that little town of Bethlehem, where––two thousand winters ago––a child was born of virgin. In that manger is laid the bread of life from heaven. In that stable is the hope of all the earth. In that boy is the king who would conquer all our fears. Joy and peace had finally come to earth, and His name was called: Immanuel. God with us. In Him all your hopes find their answer, and all your fears are cast out, but His perfect love.

Christmas IS for Fussers (Part 2)

Christmas IS for Fussers (Part 2)

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Yesterday I said, “Christmas ain’t for fussers.” But––as Reb Tevye would say––“on the other hand,” Christmas is for fussers. We are a discontented race. We envy, covet, lust, gripe, murmur, dispute, wrangle, tangle, and war. If we have plenty, we are still dissatisfied that we don’t have their stuff. If we don’t have much at all, we’re despondent that the “1% are keeping us down.” But, Christmas is the offer of salvation from all our twisted up malcontent. 

We wanted to be as God, and so we grabbed the fruit before the Lord’s appointed time. The history of lost humanity is one long tale of us hating God and hating our brother. We hate God because His holiness offends our grimy-grey morality. We hate our brother because he won’t fall down and worship us. We are a miserable wreck.

But Christmas comes. And it’s message is that Christ humbled himself (Phi. 2:7-8). The Lord if Glory came down into the garbage dump of the cosmos, laid hold of the dead corpse of humankind, and took it upon Himself, died the just death which was coming for us, all that He might resurrect you and me to share in His eternal glory which he had with the Father and the Spirit before all worlds.

It is this humility which is both our salvation and our example. He became one of us, that He might save us from our gripes and hatreds and sins. Then He show us the way to be truly human. Christmas is for the fussiest of fussers. The grinchiest of grinches. The scroogiest of scrooges.

This great mercy is why His name is the name which will be upon every tongue, and to which every knee will bow (Phi. 2:10-11). So we see in the Christ-child both the one who will pay the death-price for our sin, and the one who will show us the way out of the prison of our sin. The cost of our sin was the humiliating death of Christ. The way out of our sin is the humility of Christ. So all fussers come to the Christ child, and fuss no more. Instead, let your knees bend low, let your tongue sing loud:

Hail the heav’n born Prince of Peace, hail the Son of righteousness
Light and life to all He brings, risen with healing in His wings
Mild He lays His glory by, born that man no more may die
Born to raise the sons of earth, born to give them second birth

Charles Wesley
Christmas Ain’t for Fussers (Part 1)

Christmas Ain’t for Fussers (Part 1)

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We must all admit that we’ve had at least one displeasing Christmas present. Perhaps it was the wrong size, color, shape, brand, or age level. Someone just mentioned that their boyfriend’s mother bought her a giant rubber ducky for Christmas last year. She was 26 years old. It wasn’t a gag-gift. Once, my sister, being quite young, opened a Christmas present from our Grandma. It was a set of clothes. To which my sister memorably replied, “Clothes. Boring.” And tossed them aside.

Of course, we’ve all probably groaned or grumbled or fussed about some gift we’ve been given. We like to think that we left all the grumbling behind us in our childhood. But zooming out we can see that we adults are just more discrete in our fussing. Some families dread Christmas because it ain’t a slice of peace on earth, more like World War 3. So and so doesn’t want some other relative around because their feuding. The adult kids are with the other parents this year. Mom and dad can hardly wait for school to start again. That sort of thing. 

But we also can fuss in very spiritual looking ways. “Look at all this materialism.” “Christmas has pagan roots.” “This is all so over the top.” Or the sanctimonious, “I aim to be generous all year round.” 

But Scripture forbids––in all its forms––fussing: “Do all things without murmurings and disputings (Phl. 2:14).” The greek word for murmurings is hilariously transliterated as “goggysmos.” What an onomatopoeia! Goggysmos means an inner secret debate. Like those arguments in your head that you always win, looking (in your mind’s eye) like a renowned rhetorician from ancient Greece.

So, regardless of your age, regardless of the gift, regardless of the season, be thankful. No fussing. Christmas ain’t for fussers. No fussing for children, and no fussing for the big people. Gratitude is the context in which Paul prohibits murmuring and disputing. Christ’s sacrificial humility (Phi. 2:5-11) is the mindset which we’re to have. In other words, Christ’s Incarnation, Crucifixion, and Resurrection should bring us up short if ever we’re tempted to fuss.

That it Might Be Fulfilled

That it Might Be Fulfilled

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The story of Jesus does not have its beginnings in 4 B.C. during the reign of Herod the Great, in the town of Nazareth. Biblical illiteracy has led some to think of the Bible stories as disconnected moral tales, with some more important than others. The story of Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection might be the most important one, but who’s to say. Thinking that Christ’s only relationship to the rest of the Bible is simply being another tale in a moral anthology means you’ve missed the whole point of His story.

The story of Jesus is really the story of the whole Bible. Look at how the four Evangelists (Matthew, Mark, Luke, John) frame the beginnings of their Gospels.

  • Matthew: Begins with a genealogy tying Christ back to Abraham and David (Mt. 1:1). He also insists that the events of Christ’s early life were done in fulfillment of OT prophecies: “Now all this was done, that it might be fulfilled which was spoken of the Lord by the prophet [ … ]; And was there until the death of Herod: that it might be fulfilled which was spoken of the Lord by the prophet, saying, Out of Egypt have I called my son. … And he came and dwelt in a city called Nazareth: that it might be fulfilled which was spoken by the prophets, He shall be called a Nazarene (Mat 1:22, 2:15, 23).”
  • Mark: Doesn’t get two dozen words into his Gospel before he appeals to the Prophetic witness regarding the events surrounding Christ’s life (Mk. 1:2); and later in Mark’s introduction, Jesus’ first lines are: “The time is fulfilled (Mk. 1:15).” To which we are forced to ask, “What time is fulfilled?” And, of course, this takes us back to the Old Testament.
  • Luke: It is almost impossible to create an exhaustive list of the OT citations from the first two chapters of Luke’s Gospel. It is laden, like a child’s stocking on Christmas Eve, with OT allusions, references, examples of the OT prophetic ministry (cf. Lk. 1:67, 2:27-28), and descriptions of obedience to Mosaic laws (cf. Lk. 2:22-23). To read it without any understanding of the Old Testament is like trying to write a book in Mandarin on Tyndale’s influence on modern English.
  • John: Begins far more philosophically than the other Evangelists; he starts with an allusion to Genesis 1:1, then moves on to link Christ’s coming with Moses’ ministry (Jn. 1:17). Finally, as John the Baptist’s ministry is introduced, we see the Jews querying who John was. They ask if he was the Prophet (Cf. Deu. 18:15). He denies being that prophet. But then a few verses later he winks and nods in the direction of Jesus, informing us that Jesus is the Lamb of God, come to take away the sins of the world. In other words, here stands the grand finale of Moses’ sacrificial system and the Great Prophet who would teach Israel God’s law.

As the story of Christ unfolds we see that at every turn all the rhymes and riddles of the OT begin to be unfolded. All the shadows turn to mist and become substance. All the symbols terminate on the Savior.

We cannot ignore or jettison the Old Testament, and still think to understand the Gospel of the Lord Jesus. We must see that the glad tidings—which are declared by the Gospel writers—are such good news because of the entire story. Christ’s coming is the payoff moment of God’s story. Reading it apart from the rest of the story is like reading how the detective solved the mystery without knowing who the characters are, or what the crime in question is. All of this to say, read the whole story of how God sent His Son to save the world from a dragon.

Bethlehem: The House of Bread

Bethlehem: The House of Bread

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Earlier, I mentioned that Bethlehem meant House of Bread. But I want to give some more attention to the history of this city, and why we should care.

Rachel, the beloved wife of Jacob, died and was buried in Bethlehem (Gen. 35:19).

One of Israel’s judges, Ibzan was born and died in Bethlehem (Jdg. 12:8-10); he had sixty children: thirty sons, and thirty daughters. He married all of them off. He was a fruitful man indeed, with a very full quiver.

Ruth, the Moabite, returns with Naomi to Bethlehem; Boaz redeems Ruth (and by extension Naomi) from her barrenness and widowhood and restores them to their inheritance (cf. Ruth 1-4).

Ruth and Boaz are the great grandparents of King David; he was born and raised in Bethlehem (1 Sam. 16:4-13). By New Testament times, it is called the city of David (Lk. 2:4).

The prophet Micah once declared by divine inspiration:

But thou, Bethlehem Ephratah, though thou be little among the thousands of Judah, yet out of thee shall he come forth unto me that is to be ruler in Israel; whose goings forth have been from of old, from everlasting.

Micah 5:2

He was prophesying during a period when the kingdom of Judah was deteriorating. Her kings were not glorious, they were often not godly. The Assyrians were threatening to destroy that once great kingdom. One commentator Baker, David W., T. Desmond. Alexander, and Bruce K. Waltke. Obadiah: an Introduction and Commentary. Leicester, England: Inter-Varsity Press, 1988. Pg. 182 points out the contrast which Micah wants us to see:

The kings born in proud Jerusalem failed; the Messiah incarnated in lowly Bethlehem triumphs.

Bruce Waltke

Seven centuries later, scholars and even the astute populace knew that the Messiah must come out of Bethlehem (Cf. Mt. 2:6 & Jn. 7:42). They knew that David’s promised seed would come from Bethlehem. They knew that this king would be from of old, from everlasting.

Notice the various OT events which are connected with Bethlehem. Rachel once barren, is buried there; and the city of her burial later gives rise to a judge who is clearly a very fertile fellow; Ruth comes to harvest barley seed in Boaz’s field, but ends up becoming his wife to bear his seed.

God sends his Son to be born in a city of Bread. A city where the barren become fertile. Where seed is multiplied and turned into bread. Where promised seeds sprout and begin a great harvest. Christ is the first fruits of the new creation work of God. Remember seed must be ground into flour in order for it to be then turned into bread. This promised seed would come, be ground to pulp, put through the oven of adversity, and a new loaf would come forth to feed this world. In Christ, the barren is turned to fruitfulness, and the hungry are fed.

Stars and Angels

Stars and Angels

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The nativity story is full of angels, stars, a heavenly host coming down to earth, and even a star that stops above a house in a small, Judaean town. Many unbelievers might snort in ridicule. They regard such narrative elements as embellishments at best, and at worst, evidence that the whole thing is just a fairy tale.

Before the Copernican revolution, mankind would look at the heavens with the sense of looking up, whereas we have the sense of looking out. The heavens weren’t perceived as the cold, empty vacuum of the materialist worldview. Rather, it was thought that the heavens were warm, full of life and song. It was our planet that was cut off from the perfect dance of the heavenly bodies, and we were left out of the heavenly choir.

We shouldn’t let modern materialistic thinking skew how we read Scripture. The materialist wants you to look at stars and see flaming balls of gas, the result of a violent explosion, placed in a void of outer space. Stars formed as the result of impersonal forces of time and chance. Now that is the makings of an outlandish fairy tale.

But Ramundu’s rebuke of Eustace in Lewis’ The Voyage of the Dawn Treader is what we need to hear:

“In our world,” said Eustace, “a star is a huge ball of flaming gas.”
“Even in your world, my son, that is not what a star is, but only what it is made of.”

C.S. Lewis

Scripture repeatedly wants us to think of stars and angels as going together.

  • The seven stars are the angels of the seven churches (Rev. 1:20)
  • When the morning stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy? (Job 38:7)
  • There is no speech nor language, where their [the heavenly bodies] voice is not heard. (Psa. 19:3).
  • [The dragon’s] tail drew the third part of the stars of heaven, and did cast them to the earth (Rev. 12:4).

This is not a matter to blush about. God made the heavenly host. We should not be surprised that He imbued them with personality, movement, dance, voice. Isaiah tells us, “Lift up your eyes on high, and behold who hath created these things, that bringeth out their host by number: he calleth them all by names by the greatness of his might, for that he is strong in power; not one faileth. (Isa 40:26).” God gave the stars names. They sang with him at the creation of the world. A third of them were led astray by the dragon.

At Bethlehem a host of them arrive to sing a song heralding the reunification of earth with heaven by means of this blessed Child. The ancients knew that the order and life displayed in the heavens was something we’d been cut off from. But the angels come to tell this silent planet that God was coming to make peace with us. The silent planet would be silent no more, but man, in Christ, might join in the heavenly songs of praise to our God. Then the angels “hyperdrive” back to their heavenly positions. Then, as if all of this isn’t marvelous enough, one star gets the job of guiding the wise men to the exact house in which Christ and his parents were dwelling.

Truly, it is good to sing:

All thy works with joy surround thee,
earth and heaven reflect thy rays,
stars and angels sing around thee,
center of unbroken praise.
Field and forest, vale and mountain,
flowery meadow, flashing sea,
chanting bird and flowing fountain,
call us to rejoice in thee.

Henry Van Dyke (Joyful, Joyful, We Adore Thee)

Materialism cannot account for such an event. But it is the most likely of things to happen: when God became a man the stars and angels made sure we saw the signs for which they’d been appointed (Gen. 1:14). This was the beginning, after all, of a new creation.

While Shepherds Watched

While Shepherds Watched

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God likes shepherds. Abel was a shepherd when God received his sacrifice. Abraham, after being called out of Ur, became a shepherd. Isaac, and later Jacob his son were shepherds. Moses was a shepherd when the Lord called to him from the burning bush. David was a shepherd when Samuel came to anoint him to the Kingship, calling him to the work of “[feeding] Jacob his people, and Israel his inheritance (Psa. 78:71). The prophet Amos was a herdsman. Jeremiah and Ezekiel rebuked the priests of their time for being wicked shepherds of the Lord’s flock.

While the broader culture perhaps despised shepherds, God seems to pick shepherds to hear important news, receive important callings, be given vital messages. God is likened to a shepherd in numerous Psalms. later in His life, Christ calls himself the Good Shepherd (cf. Jn 10).

The nativity story includes this wonderful portion of the angel announcing the birth of Christ to shepherds, while they were out in some remote area outside Bethlehem and Jerusalem. An angel appears to them, frightens them as often happens to people who see an angel, and yet are told not to be afraid. The news which the angel had to tell them was good news. It was joy-filled news. It was get out the fireworks, pop the champagne, and have a party sort of news.

The Messiah has come.

He has come to be a Savior. He has come to sit on David’s throne. He has come and is in a feeding trough, wrapped in rags, waiting to be a sign unto them. The stars had been given for signs and for seasons, and now the heavenly host appears in order to give a sign to lonely shepherds.

These herdsmen likely cared for the sheep for Passover sacrifice, and they are sent to see the child who would become the final Passover sacrifice, who was also the true––and good––Shepherd of Israel. The response of these men ought to convict us. They immediately heed the angelic message (Lk. 2:15-16), and after they saw, they told everyone, and it is evident that they believed, and their belief was vibrantly joyful (Lk. 2:18-20).

Indeed they demonstrate for us the proper response to the good news of great joy which the angels proclaimed. Believe it, rejoice in it, and tell the world. And this, dear reader, is why our Christmas celebrations should make quite a noticeable ruckus.

Ben Zornes