The Foundation and the Building Distinguished

In 1 Corinthians 3, Paul introduces us to the illustration of the foundation and the building. He makes quite clear that Jesus Christ Himself is the foundation of the building, the new, spiritual temple. We may think of that building corporately (the whole church) or individually (our lives). In either case, Jesus is the only, true foundation.

Paul then goes on and urges Christians to be building with “gold, silver, and precious stones” as opposed to building with “wood, hay, and stubble.” It matters how we build.

Most religious activity in our world spends its time and energies trying to lay a foundation with building materials. But a foundation is no place for “gold, silver, and precious stones,” much less “wood, hay, and stubble.” Neither are suited for a foundation. But most people would rather lay their own foundation, using their best efforts, than to stand firmly on Christ alone. Let alone other religions, many Christians confuse this principle, and drift into an admixture of foundation and building, when they should be clearly separated.

The only suitable foundation material for church and person is Jesus Christ, our rock. In 2 Samuel 22, David comes back to that theme again and again, that God is his Rock. And yet, David was far from passive.

And this brings us to the other error we so often make - believing that we have the proper, the perfect foundation, we assume that there is nothing left for us to do. And yet as builders, we ought to be building. As servants, we ought to be serving. As disciples, we ought to be discipling. As Gospel-loving people, we ought to be sharing that Gospel. 

My friend who has built both foundation and building for us talks about “the bond.” If I understand correctly, it is the firm attachment of the building to the foundation. You don’t want the one floating around without the other. They are related. They are both necessary. But they are not the same. 

Something Solid

G.K Chesterton said “Merely having an open mind is nothing. The object of opening the mind, as of opening the mouth, is to shut it again on something solid.”

John Owen, the Puritan theologian, uses the phrase “finding the bottom” of the thing. In matters of faith, we need to “find the bottom.” We need something solid to stand on.

I’ve heard of lakes that are “bottomless.” Of course, that’s impossible. But it is possible that they have no “solid” bottom. That is, if you are sinking down to the bottom, hoping beyond hope that you can “find the bottom” and push upward to fresh air again, you’ll be sorely disappointed.

In matters of faith, we dare not base our approach to “life and godliness” on “suppositions,” on what we “like” to believe, but rather on the solid revelation given by God that tells us something sure about God and something accurate about ourselves.

My Awana student can be easily impressed with God. He is not used to hearing about God at a church, and so stories and descriptions carry a wonder that delights. Sin is a harder subject for him. He knows the concept, but not the difficulty. “What’s the big deal about telling a lie?” The penalty “seems” to outstrip the crime. But we must notice that the words “seem” and “suppose” are not solid words. They are soft and mushy. The certainly change over time, or with our moods. But when we discover the solid truths that this magnificent God is magnificently holy, and thus He cannot stand sin; and when we discover that our sins is not merely personal, momentary indiscretions, but an affront to the truthfulness of “God who does not lie,” that same God who made us to represent Him and His holiness in this world - well, it is then that we find something solid on which to bite down.

Why is this important? Because when we get past thinking about God in the abstract, and ourselves in isolation - it is then that we must think about how we can relate to God, or how He can relate to us. And it is in this divine-human contact that we must consider the outcomes of forgiveness, or condemnation. And we find, if we read the solid story of the Bible carefully, that God does both. He both forgives, and condemns. So how can we know how it will turn out for us? 

We find that the very real, High and Holy God, reached down to very real sinful and rebellious subjects by sending His very solid Son, Jesus, to die a real death, to really rise from the dead, never to die again, to give a real forgiveness to those who will solidly repent and find a ground of belief in the promises of God. Something solid.

The Gates of Hell

There is a comic story in the book of Judges that makes me smile. Here is Samson, known for impulsiveness and impetuousness, and, when God’s Spirit enables him, is able to accomplish feats of great strength. He’s being watched in this city, and in defiance of his enemies, “at midnight he arose and took hold of the doors of the gate of the city and the two posts, and pulled them up, bar and all, and put them on his shoulders and carried them to the top of the hill that is in front of Hebron” (Judges 16:3). The gates spoke of his enemy’s defense. Samson, the lone man, made a mockery of the wicked city’s strength.

Gates are not offensive weapons, but defensive. You don’t gore the enemy with your gates. Rather, you rely on your gates to keep the enemy out. So when Peter makes his confession of faith about Jesus’s true identity, Jesus says, “I will build my church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it” (Matthew 16:18)

What does it mean that the gates of hell shall not prevail? Does it mean that the gates of hell won’t be used as a club to bludgeon Christians over the head? No, because gates are for defensive purposes. The gates of hell are intended to quell the advance of Christ’s Church against the forces of hell. That is, Christians are to be the grace-filled aggressors against sin and Satan’s hegemony. We are to be advancing, as in “Onward, Christian Soldiers!” 

But the posture of the Church today seems to be much more defensive than offensive. “Lord, please protect us from the world.” And there is a point to this. The helmet of salvation and breastplate of righteousness are prescribed for our defense. We are indeed called to be watchful, and to be wary. But offensively, we are to batter the gates of hell with our prayers, advancing with the sword of the Spirit, mobilized with those “Gospel shoes” that we wear. 

It seems, then, that the Church’s lack of offense should be regarded as offensive. It should be offensive to us, in that we are not being obedient to God’s commands; and offensive to God, because we are not fulfilling the Church’s calling, for which Christ died. 

Don’t be confused. This is not a call for Christian violence (an oxymoron, if there ever was one). But there is victory in faith, and strongholds are destroyed by truth, and with demonstrations of God’s amazing grace there is wonder and the winning of souls from the powers of darkness to the kingdom of light. Let’s emerge from our “holy huddles” to be “My witnesses.”

Importunity: A Parable on Prayer

A man went to his spiritual advisor for some help. He was struggling with some problems, and felt far from God. The learned advisor suggested to him that he pray with “importunity.” Not knowing the word, but not wanting to admit ignorance, the questioner went away hoping to be able to put it into practice as best he could.

So he decided to pray as though he were “important.” After all, isn’t that what “importunity” means? It certainly sounds that way. So he puffed out his chest and wind-bagged a loud, flowery prayer that made him feel pretty good about himself and not think much about God at all. It was probably similar to the prayer of the Pharisee in Luke 18: “thank goodness I’m not like others.” But, alas (as they say in parables), this didn’t seem to help, and he felt further from God after praying, still surrounded by troubles.

So he decided to pray only when he had the “opportunity.” Maybe he had mis-heard the advisor, and “opportunity” was the word. So when it came to mind, he would pray, though his mind was not so good, and so he rarely prayed. It’s really what we need, isn’t it, to feel less guilt about prayer? Just pray when it feels right, or when you remember, when you get around to it. But alas, his life wore on, and his perceived distance from God only increased, and his troubles threatened to swallow him up.

And so he then prayed as one who was spiritually impotent (impotunity?). Not important, but impotent. Not opportunistic, but powerless. He confessed himself unable to rescue himself; powerless to stem the drift of his life. And so he prayed as an impotent man, helpless and desperate. He threw himself on God, admitting that he could do nothing else. And, as he adopted this approach to prayer, he found that he was compelled to do so time and time again; imploring God for help; begging God for mercy. He would pray as he lay awake at night, and as he was involved in the drudgeries of life during the day. His prayer was never from his heart or his lips.

And then, the clouds began to clear, and he was able to experience an escape from his troubles. God brought to mind pertinent passages of Scripture that would guide him on his path, and he began to rediscover the joy of the Lord. He decided to go and relate his experience to the rather obtuse, spiritual advisor, who, when he heard the story, said, “Exactly, importunity!”

Images of Forgiveness

One of the key provisions of the New Covenant is the forgiveness of our sins. We are not able to balance out our moral liabilities by piling up moral excellencies. Righteousness is what is expected. Even if we were one day able to conduct ourselves perfectly, we would not have the resources to atone for past sins. So forgiveness of sins is worth thinking about, like a sweet morsel in one’s mouth. It’s worth savoring; worth tasting.

Let me acquaint you with three phrases that illustrate what God does with our sins as He forgives. 

The first is in the book of Isaiah in the Old Testament. Some people mistakenly associate the Old Testament with an “angry God,” while the New Testament with a “loving God.” But both Old and New Testaments comprise one Book, and they relate to the one, true God who does not change. And so we should not be surprised to find good news of God’s forgiveness in the Old Testament.

Isaiah 38:17 says that “You have cast all my sins behind Your back.” There we were, teetering on the edge of the pit of nothingness, deserving to perish due to our sins, but God set His love on us, and “cast all my sins behind (His) back.” God and I are then free to move forward, with any business pertaining to sins left in the dust.

Again in Isaiah, 43:25, God says “I am the One who wipes out your transgressions.” The image suggests a big white board, or, more properly, a dreadful black board, containing a record of all our sins. But God erases it. He wipes it clean. The record is gone, and we no longer have any charges against us.

And then, in Micah 7:19, in a double reference, we are assured that “He will tread our iniquities under foot,” and “will cast all (our) sins into the depths of the sea.” 

There is value on rolling these things around in our minds. But there is also value in applying them and thinking out the logical implications. Here is one to consider. If God has cast my sins behind His back, shouldn’t I also put their practice in my rearview mirror? If he has erased them from the record, then should I not erase them from my daily activities? If He treats my iniquities as waste and refuse, then shouldn’t I also?

So let’s be people who value forgiveness, and who then who live in the light of that forgiveness.