Invisible Fruit

Is it appropriate to ask someone how their faith is doing? Or to ask someone how someone else's faith is doing? I'm not even sure how to answer when I am asked these questions; "Well, on a scale of 1 to 10 I'd put young Sally at about a 2 1/2, while Fred over there is a solid 7."

I'm not sure if I really get it. I was brought up to believe that only God can see a man's heart, so we must go by what a he confesses. After all, no one can say, "Jesus is Lord," except by the Holy Spirit (1 Cor. 12:3b). Faith is to bear fruit. I think fruit includes confession. We discern from what is spoken (see Matt. 15:18-19) or confessed, and what is done (see James 2). If a person claims to be a Christian but insists on speaking and living in a way that brings shame to himself and the Church, aren't we right to question the state of that person's faith? After all, how could church discipline be practiced if such judgements could not be made?

And yet it can be a very dangerous thing to judge another sinner with our imperfect judgement (see Matt. 7:1-5). Keep in mind that one does not go from being a babe to a mighty warrior in the Faith overnight. And even mighty warriors are capable of terrible sins.

But look at it from the flip side; haven't we all known Christians whom we admired for their bold and steadfast faith? What was it that triggered that admiration? Perhaps it was something they said or how they behaved (i.e., their works) during a particular situation or trial. Or perhaps their faith became apparent to you over time as you witnessed how they lived their lives in humble service to Christ and His Church. However it happened, I'm quite certain you didn't just sense a vibe. Their faith was shown to you in some way.

I don't think that asking someone how their faith or the faith of someone close to them is will be a part of my regular conversation starters any time soon. But encountering people who do make such queries has made me consider the role of works in the Christian life. Deep down, I do expect more from someone who calls himself a Christian. It has no bearing on their justification; that's not the issue here. But if one can't, or even shouldn't, take note of the works in a Christian's life, then we might as well grow trees that bear invisible fruit (cf. Matt. 7:15-20).

As I Wrestle

I love a sermon that sounds like it was written just for me.

Proper Distinctions

Is sanctification Law or Gospel? This has been a topic of discussion in the Smith household for a few days now...

Finding the Trinity in Music

I was introduced to this fascinating illustration of Jeremy Begbie's while listening to a presentation by the very gifted Mr. John Hodges. Let's see if I can do it justice:

We are visual creatures. We understand things visually. This, in part, makes the Trinity - one God, three Persons - so difficult for us to comprehend. How can two or more things occupy the same space without losing their distinction? It's basic physics!

Most of us have seen the baseball diamond-looking picture that is meant to help us with this concept.

We may be able to articulate the idea of the Trinity, but the imagery is still problematic for us.

This is where Begbie has a wonderful insight. He suggests that music can benefit theology by better illustrating audibly what is so limiting visually. We're talking more than appropriately matching words to music, though that is certainly of great importance.

Take the doctrine of the Trinity, for example. The most basic chord is called a triad, and it is made up of 3 notes (tri - triad - Trinity...just checkin'!). Take away one note, and it is no longer a triad. To play the chord, all three notes must be played at once. It is one chord, but it is made up of 3 distinct notes. You don't hear one note, and then another, and then another. This wouldn't be a chord, but an arpeggio, or broken chord. You don't percieve one note in the chord to the exclusion of the other two, either. Three equal notes, one triad.

In Begbie's own words from Beholding the Glory:

"What could be more apt than to speak of the Trinity as a three-note-resonance of life, mutually indwelling, without mutual exclusion and yet without merger, each occupying the same ‘space,’ yet recognizably and irreducibly distinct, mutually enhancing and establishing each other? To speak of three strings mutually resonating instantly introduces a dynamism ... far truer to the trinitarian, living God of the New Testament.”

So simple, yet so amazing, isn't it?