I wasn't going to start watching any new television shows this year, but one of them caught my eye:  Journeyman.  I've always been a sucker for time travel plots or shows about people fixing things that have gone wrong (either in this universe (Early Edition) or a parallel one (Sliders)).  You put both of those things together and you have the formula that frequently appears in my list of favorite shows since that king of all shows from my childhood, Voyagers!.  (And yes, the exclamation point is part of the title.)  So I felt that if any show was going to be so complete in its Amyness, it was my duty to at least give it a try.

The plot of Journeyman is simple.  A man (Dan) suddenly finds himself unexpectedly traveling to the past (so far, only within the past 30 or 40 years) for brief periods of time.  He has no control over when this happens or for how long, and at first, the trips seem to be random.  But soon he discovers there's a meaningful pattern to his journeys.  He finds himself following the life of a specific person as he jumps through history.  With a little help from the Internet during his intermittent returns to the present, Dan is able to figure out how he can help/protect/save the one he's following so that person can then go on to fulfill his purpose of helping other people in the present.  When Dan's mission is accomplished, he's on to the next episode where he finds himself tracking a new person in trouble.  ...Okay, maybe that doesn't sound so simple to some of you, but for sci-fi fans, this is a pretty common formula.

So far I've been enjoying the show, but I've found one thing about it to be very odd.  Dan expresses his confusion about what is happening to him and how, but he hasn't yet even once asked the most obvious question to me: who is causing this to happen?  For any thoughtful observer, there's no doubt that a personal being is behind his travels; random forces aren't complex (putting him in just the right time and place over and over in a specific person's life) and meaningful (there's a definite purpose--the person is saved so she can then do a specific act in the future that will save others).  There is intelligence, foreknowledge, goodness, and care involved, and all of these things point to a personal, powerful, compassionate being.  Yet, there's no talk of God or to God, even though it seems that both of these reactions would be most natural in this situation.  There's only a strange, unnatural silence on the whole subject--particularly strange since Dan recognizes the intelligent design involved as he discovers and notes the "reasons why" he was "supposed" to help each person.

So why no talk of who might be behind this?  It may be because we've been conditioned by Darwinian thought to ignore obvious signs of design and purpose.  We want to enjoy their benefits (a meaningful life, or in this case, a meaningful story) without taking them too seriously or following them to their logical conclusion, so we've trained ourselves not to ask the "who" question.

Eventually, though, I think Journeyman will have to have to deal with it.  We may be indoctrinated enough to accept the foolish denial of design and purpose when it comes to evolution, but I don't think anyone will buy the idea for long that--in a play on Dawkins's original quote about biology from The Blind Watchmaker--"Journeyman is the story of random, complicated plot twists that [only] give the appearance of having been designed for a purpose."

But who knows?  We might be capable of ignoring even this.  After all, we've been cultivating this blind spot since the beginning of time:

[T]hat which is known about God is evident within them; for God made it evident to them.  For since the creation of the world His invisible attributes, His eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly seen, being understood through what has been made, so that they are without excuse.  For even though they knew God, they did not honor Him as God or give thanks, but they became futile in their speculations, and their foolish heart was darkened.  (Romans 1:19-21)

From John 9:2-3:

And His disciples asked Him, "Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he would be born blind?"  Jesus answered, "It was neither that this man sinned, nor his parents; but it was so that the works of God might be displayed in him." 

I was reminded again as I read this last night that everything is about God.  This man had endured blindness for who knows how many years, but it wasn't for nothing; it was for the noblest of all causes--to display the glory and power of God.  How much easier it is to endure everything when we remember that it's the glory of God that matters most (more than our comfort or even our lives), and that our sufferings for His glory are worth it because of what they accomplish for His plan!  When seen this way, we can embrace them as our duty and willing service and submit to them "for the joy set before us" both now and in the end.

I've been a little discouraged lately as I've been reading the words of people who hate Christianity (not to mention Christians) and interacting with others who go round and round in circles of pseudo-intellectual misdirection, avoiding God at all cost.  Then I came across this passage in Ezekiel:

I am sending you to them who are stubborn and obstinate children, and you shall say to them, "Thus says the Lord God."  As for them, whether they listen or not--for they are a rebellious house--they will know that a prophet has been among them.  And you, son of man, neither fear them nor fear their words, though thistles and thorns are with you and you sit on scorpions; neither fear their words nor be dismayed at their presence, for they are a rebellious house.  But you shall speak My words to them whether they listen or not, for they are rebellious (Ezekiel 2:4-7).

On the one hand, this is encouraging.  I'm not experiencing anything unusual, here, and just as Ezekiel was commanded to speak God's truth regardless of the results, I should also speak the truth as God has commanded me.  It's valuable for me to honor God by proclaiming His truth even if nobody turns toward it.  But, oh, the grief and frustration!  After all my efforts and prayers--no matter how intense, only the Holy Spirit can change people, not I.  And when He chooses not to draw people to Himself, all I can do is look on helplessly as people refuse to see the truth and, instead, grow darker and darker.  I fully believe that God has good, just, and merciful reasons for this, but that doesn't always make it emotionally easier, as Jeremiah, the weeping prophet, could tell you. 

Nor does it make it easier to continue.  I've had times when I've been able to put hope aside and simply honor God with my work and be satisfied, but the hopelessness is starting to drain me, leaving in its place something that scares me even more--apathy towards the lost.  I don't want to stop caring about people or trying to help them, but lately I've caught myself shrugging my shoulders and thinking, "What's the use?"

I can only pray for God's mercy through Psalm 51:10-13:

Create in me a clean heart, O God,

And renew a steadfast spirit within me.

Do not cast me away from Your presence

And do not take Your Holy Spirit from me.

Restore to me the joy of Your salvation

And sustain me with a willing spirit.

Then I will teach transgressors Your ways,

And sinners will be converted to You.

May it be, Lord Jesus!

Tomorrow morning I’ll be leading the catechism reading at my church. Each week, we recite a few questions from the catechism written by Benjamin Keach. As Reformed Baptists, we hold to the Confession of 1689. Keach wrote his catechism in an effort to further explain the theology of the Confession.

Unfortunately, at least for us today, there are parts that still beg further explanation. The question I have in mind deals with the sacraments:

Q. 98. How do Baptism and the Lord's Supper become effectual means of salvation?

A. Baptism and the Lord's Supper become effectual means of salvation, not from any virtue in them or in him that administers them, but only by the blessing of Christ and the working of His Spirit in them that by faith receive them. (1 Peter 3:21; 1 Cor. 3:6,7; 1 Cor. 12:13)

I think the phrase “effectual means of salvation” can be confusing. It could easily be taken as referring to a way in which we earn salvation, such as a means to an end. We may even be encouraged to take it this way when reading the first supporting passage: (1 Peter 3:21) “Baptism, which corresponds to this, now saves you, not as a removal of dirt from the body but as an appeal to God for a good conscience.”

The problem with this interpretation of the question is twofold. First, Reformed Baptists believe baptism and partaking in the Lord’s Supper are the appropriate actions of someone already saved, and we are saved by grace alone- not by works. So we would never say in a catechism that practicing sacraments are ways to become saved. Second, I know of no Reformed theologian (Baptist or otherwise) who believes that such a view is taught in the Bible, or specifically in 1 Peter 3:21*.

So what do we mean by referring to the sacraments as “effectual means of salvation?” The answer is found in a previous question of the catechism:

Q. 95. What are the outward and ordinary means whereby Christ communicates to us the benefits of redemption?

A. The outward and ordinary means whereby Christ communicates to us the benefits of redemption are His ordinances, especially the Word, Baptism, the Lord's Supper and Prayer; all which are made effectual to the elect for salvation. (Rom. 10:17; James 1:18; 1 Cor. 3:5; Acts 14:1; 2:41,42)

The benefits of redemption begin first and foremost with our justification before God due to Christ bearing the penalty for our sins on the cross. But that is not the only benefit, and the benefits are not confined to the moment we acknowledge Christ as our Lord and Savior. Rather, the benefits of redemption are applied to us throughout our lives. Paul said in Philippians to “work out our salvation with fear and trembling.” This doesn’t mean we work toward salvation, but that we are to participate in the results (benefits) of our salvation.

To the point, the sacraments are ways in which salvation is worked out in our lives as a result of already being saved. The sacraments are especially “effectual” because they are ordinances that were instituted and commanded by Christ and the Holy Spirit makes special use of them in our process of sanctification.

*For a good explanation of this verse, see Matt Slick's article.

In his book of children's poems, Where the Sidewalk Ends, Shel Silverstein has this poem titled "The Land of Happy":

Have you been to The Land of Happy,
Where everyone's happy all day,
Where they joke and they sing
Of the happiest things,
And everything's jolly and gay?
There's no one unhappy in Happy,
There's laughter and smiles galore.
I have been to The Land of Happy--
What a bore!

Growing up, this poem was unsettling to me; to affirm it seemed somehow wrong, and yet I knew it to be true.  I much preferred books, movies, and television shows that included bad guys and the people fighting to stop them over stories about people living happily and somewhat non-eventfully.  I couldn't reconcile my preference with the fact that heaven would have none of this excitement; what was wrong with me that I didn't prefer the Land of Happy?

It's taken me years, but I finally see now that there's no contradiction between 1) loving, honoring, and desiring good and 2) preferring stories with bad guys over the Land of Happy.  I was drawn to stories with evil and suffering not because I was attracted to the evil, but because that evil brought out the glory and character of the good that struggled against it; it was the response of goodness that I was tuning in to see.  The characters in those stories who rose up against the bad guys revealed the power and beauty of goodness in a way that an unprovoked--though perfectly good--character would not.

I'm not saying that goodness needs evil to exist--that would be nonsense.  I'm saying that there are aspects of goodness and God's character (which is the definition of goodness) that we would never understand, appreciate, or glorify were we not to see Him interact with a sinful world.

Let me explain what I mean.  Think of all the heroes of 9/11--those who saved others, often at the cost of their own lives.  The day before 9/11, those people shopped, put gas in their cars, and fed their kids.  Nobody could see the depth of their character by watching them do these ordinary things; it took something as horrible as 9/11 to reveal their strength, courage, and selflessness to the world even though those traits already existed within each of them. 

In the same way, God's character would have been the same regardless if sin had ever come into the world, but there would have been many aspects of Him that we would never have seen, experienced, or understood, and so we would have known Him less deeply.  God would have been just (as He always was), but without judgment, would we have known?  God would have been merciful and forgiving, but without our need for mercy, would we see this?  The very words "judgment" and "mercy" would be meaningless to us. 

The aspects of God's character we learn about now from our suffering will make our time with Him in eternity even more glorious.  But after sin has served its purpose here, we won't need it to continue.  We'll have all of human history on which to reflect in order to truly know God's character, and all of eternity to enjoy Him face to face in peace.

He will swallow up death for all time,
And the Lord God will wipe tears away from all faces,
And He will remove the reproach of His people from all the earth;
For the Lord has spoken.
And it will be said in that day,
"Behold, this is our God for whom we have waited that He might save us.
This is the Lord for whom we have waited;
Let us rejoice and be glad in His salvation."

Isaiah 25:8-9

“When he wrote these seventy resolutions, Edwards was completing his schooling and ministerial training and was anticipating setting out on his life’s work. He took advantage of the opportunity to pause and reflect on the type of person he wanted to be and the way in which he wanted to live his life.

In a manner that would typify his entire career, he took up his pen and, in the moments of quiet he could wrest from a busy day, wrote the guidelines, the systems of checks and balances he would use to chart out his life—his relationship, his conversations, his desires, his activities. In short, through these resolutions he offers himself his own advice…

Edwards prefaces his Resolutions with an exhortation to ‘remember to read over these resolutions once a week.’ Perhaps this bit of advice is also worthy of our imitation. The Resolutions are as relevant today as they were when he first penned them so long ago. Reading through them on a regular basis may very well help us also to live with all of our might to the glory and praise of God.” (Jonathan Edwards’ Resolutions and Advices to Young Converts ed. Stephen J. Nichols, pages 5 & 12)

An unexpected signature line on a seemingly random email I received at work today brought to my attention a poem.  It turned out to be an answer to a weary and discouraged prayer for endurance uttered just minutes before.  God is so good!  Here is an excerpt for your encouragement:

The Building of the Ship

by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Build me straight, O worthy Master!

Stanch and strong, a goodly vessel,

That shall laugh at all disaster,

And with wave and whirlwind wrestle!...

Ah! it is not the sea,

It is not the sea that sinks and shelves,

But ourselves

That rock and rise

With endless and uneasy motion,

Now touching the very skies,

Now sinking into the depths of ocean.

Ah! if our souls but poise and swing

Like the compass in its brazen ring,

Ever level and ever true

To the toil and the task we have to do,

We shall sail securely, and safely reach

The Fortunate Isles, on whose shining beach

The sights we see, and the sounds we hear,

Will be those of joy and not of fear!

In Isaiah, the prophet is before the throne of God while the creatures around the throne proclaim “Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts; the whole earth is full of his glory!” In Revelation, John is before the throne while the creatures around it proclaim “Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God Almighty, who was and is and is to come!” For some reason it never occurred to me to ask why they are saying something different.

I think there’s a point being made here. God spoke in the Hebrew Bible through many prophets. The people of those times saw many miraculous works. But for several centuries God was in this sense silent. Many questioned whether God was still with them; perhaps He’d left completely on account of their unfaithfulness. John tells us that the God who raised Jesus from the dead is the same God who brought His people out of Egypt, who put them to exile and brought them back. The God who was is the same God today, and He will still be the same God in the next age.

This speaks not only of God’s uniformity, but also of His immutability and faithfulness. Over all the ages He is a God who does not change. He is forever holy above all things. In every age He is faithful to His word and faithful to His precepts. This same God who called the Israelites, who sacrificed His Son for the many, is the same God today who is faithful in our lives to bring about blessing and hope for the age to come when He will be faithful still.