Always...

There are things that distress me.  Many things.  Chief amongst them are when I read things about faith that are filled with specious Gospel.  To put it another way, Gospel that is laced with Law, if not downright founded upon it.  Gospel is not Law.  Law is not Gospel.  They are the Word of God.  They are the Living Word.  They are not two halves of a whole.  They are the whole.  But they are not interchangeable.  What I simply do not get is, after having found the pure doctrine, why folks gravitate towards or down-right insist on making one the other.

A good example is the following response to a post I found on Facebook:

an attentive parishioner will notice the small casual lapses of reverence that indicate the slip into routine or the loss of awe that what is held and distributed is God Himself incarnate in the bread and wine. You hold in your hands the very blood shed on calvary that removes the sins of the world, which makes everything holy It touches. You hold something more precious than the Holy Grail; you hold its contents! Your heart should never cease to tremble in humility and love before It.

I am not arguing against the very good gift of routine or the blessed gift of Liturgy and its practice.  What concerns me—what actually distresses me to the point of genuine spiritual terror—are words such as never, should, always, etc.

We are fallen creatures.  We are full to the brim with sin. We will take the gifts of Christ for granted.  We will be irreverent.  We will fail.

In this comment, the notice of the parishioner is positioned upon the pastor, not Jesus.  Weighing, measuring, judging whether or not the celebrant is reverent enough.  Enough.  That is another very troubling word.

Pastors will be tired.  Pastors will be grumpy.  Pastors will be distracted.  Pastors will be distraught.  Pastors will be filled with anxious thoughts.  It is in those times, routine is a gift, a help to get them through their struggles so that they might be the hands and voice of Christ for us.

On thinking about words such as always, never, should, must—absolutes and commands focused on the receiver of faith rather than the Author and Perfector of faith—I began to wonder about those seemingly absolutes and commands found in Scripture.

For example, what does this mean?

Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, rejoice!  Let your forbearing spirit be known to all men.  The Lord is near.  Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God.  And the peace of God, which surpasses all comprehension, shall guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. ~Philippians 4:4-7

There are absolutes and commands in that passage that man cannot possibly achieve.  We simply cannot always rejoice.  We are sinful, fallen creatures who cannot possibly manage to always rejoice in the Lord ... rejoice in suffering, sorrow, and loss.  To use the extreme, I would proffer that no Christian who endured the Holocaust rejoiced always.

So, I got to thinking about the absolutes in the Bible and the absolutes in the pure doctrine.  They lie with our Triune God.  Jesus is the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and end, the Author and Perfector of our faith.  Our faith comes from Him and looks back to Him.

One absolute that comes to mind was Hebrews 7:25:

Hence, also, He is able to save forever those who draw near to God through Him, since He always lives to make intercession for them.

Really, I'd rather type up all of Hebrews 7-12 at the very least, but just this one thought:  Jesus is the one who is always praying and making supplication for us.  Then, I think about the doctrine of the Large Catechism, Part III:

God does not consider prayer because of the person, but because of His Word and obedience to it. (BOC, LC, III, 16) 

and

In the second place, we should be more encouraged and moved to pray because God has always added a promise and declared that it shall surely be done for us as we pray.  He says in Psalm 50:15, "Call upon Me in the day of trouble; I will deliver you." And Christ says in the Gospel of St. Matthew, "Ask, and it will be given to you; . . . or everyone who asks receives.  (7:7-8). (BOC, LC, III, 19)

Add to these to bits of doctrine II Corinthians 1: 20:

For a many as may be the promises of God, in Him they are yes; wherefore also by Him is our Amen to the glory of God through us.

So, I have been wondering if, when Paul tells us to rejoice always, it is not this impossible command but a promise.  Though we might not always be able to do so, in all circumstances we can rejoice because of our Triune God.  And, when Paul tells us to never be anxious and to pray in everything, what he is telling us that, in Christ we can not be anxious and in Christ we can pray in everything, without ceasing.  Because it is Christ who is both our Redeemer and our Mediator.  We are saved and thus life by His faith and His obedience to the Word.  In His flesh and His divinity, we are always faithful and holy and righteous and sanctified and reverent and pious and all such things.

How does it serve our neighbor if we are putting the burden of absolutes and commands on his faith, if we are confusing the Law that is there to crush and destroy the old Adam with the Gospel that is here to  make us perfect in salvation and in sanctification?

The original post to which the comment was made was a quote:

It is a law of intellectual life which applies also in the church, that only that doctrine can be passed on and planted in hearts which the teacher is absolutely convinced is true. A doctrine such as that of the Lutheran Church regarding the Sacrament of the Altar has to be borne witness to. If it is no longer attested but only presented as an historical antiquity, even though it be presented with great care and correctness, it dies.

Hermann Sasse, Union & Confession.

Actually, I am struggling to follow the whole of this quote, even though I actually diagrammed the sentences on paper—old habits die hard for ex-literacy professors.  However, it reads to me as if the point is not about talking about the Sacrament, but actually practicing the Sacrament.  Of course, such is done with churchly order and reverence.  However, the point of the Sacrament is not the celebrants actions or attitudes, but Jesus come for us to forgive, save, heal, and sustain.  Doctrine is not passed on and planted in hearts because of the teacher, but rather because of the Holy Spirit and His work through Word and Sacrament.  

All the absolutes of the Lord's Supper lie with Jesus.  All of the absolutes with Baptism lie with Jesus.  All of the promises of God lie with God.  

So, to me, a better comment might be:

Thanks be to God that the efficacy of the Sacraments lie with God and not man.  So, if the pastor stumbles in his preparations or speaks the Words of Institution with something less than reverence and humility, the salvation and forgiveness and healing and sustenance remain.  In fact, those good gifts of Christ are given even to the one whose hands and voice might reveal a bit of the man in the office whilst serving in the office, whilst standing in the authority and stead of Christ.  Equally so, thanks be to God that if the parishioner receiving those gifts comes with fear and trembling, with doubts and confusion, with wounds and the weight of burdened consciousness, the gifts are still given in full measure and without hesitation by our Lord Jesus Christ.  But this is a great reminder, too, of the rich legacy of rite and liturgy handed down to us so that no matter what man is in the office of under shepherd the gifts of Christ remain.

Please do not tell me what I should or should not be doing.  Please do not tell me never to be this or always to be that.  Tell me about Jesus.  Tell me about Jesus who loves me and forgives me and who gives His faith and His obedience to me that I might be saved.  Tell me about Jesus and the Commandments He keeps for me.  Tell me that the burden of the Law is there to help us more fully grasp that only in Jesus can it be fulfilled ... here, now, with our family, friends, and neighbors.  Tell me about the works that God can do by and with and through the cross. Tell me about the works that God can do by and with and through the Holy Spirit, despite the fact that even in our salvation we remain in fallen world, burdened with sinful flesh and the wiliest of foes who has great resources at his disposal as he ever prowls around us, waiting to tear us away from Jesus.  Tell me about Jesus and His absolutes.  

I guess I am saying that when you start talking to me as if I need to be a modern day Carthusian monk to be counted as faithful, I will despair.  Been there.  Done that.  Works righteousness in any form–even pious living—will only lead to despair and death.

I am not monkish in the slightest.

When it comes to the service of the Sacrament, I am filled with awe and I am filled with fear. I know my sin.  It shames me and tells me to turn away.  When it comes to the service of the Sacrament, I am oft so hungry for what I know I will be receiving that I care less for what my neighbor is receiving and far more for when it will be my turn.  When it comes to the service of the Sacrament, I am oft thinking of the pain in my body from being in the pew and how much more pain I will have after the Service of the Sacrament because I will have to stand and start walking in order to make my way home.  When it comes to the service of the Sacrament, I sometimes hear the chant tune more than the Words because the tune is oft my comfort when the frailties of my body become overwhelming, and thus, I am thinking more of the Promise to come than the Promise present.

I have yet to gather the courage to make the sign of the cross. I do not kneel. I barely bow (being seated in the pew).  I do not speak "Amen" as I hear others do.  I oft struggle if, being in the pew, the pastor does not speak the words of the departing blessing (or whatever it is properly called) to me the way the ones who can go forward get to have poured over them.  And I sometimes am downright jealous of the children who have the cross traced on their forehead and receive a blessing speaking of their Baptism.  And I rarely—if ever—am attentive to the actions and attitude of the pastor.  

Truth be told, I really only notice/think about two things:

1) I think it is cool that the celebrants at my church stand at a bit of an angle so that I can see what they are doing, instead of having their backs completely to the pews.

2) I count the moments until the celebrant raises the body and blood of Christ and declares His peace for me.

I do not always rejoice in the crosses I bear in this life.  Do I stand in condemnation by Philippians 4 or do I consider that my Triune God always rejoices in His daughter, as does the host surrounding me?   I am oft anxious.  Do I despair of my weakness or do I rest in the safety that Jesus is not anxious about me?  I do not always know the words to pray.  Do I focus on my failure or do I rest on the promise that I have One who can interpret even the wordless groans of my heart and mind and spirit and take them to the One who is always praying for me and who is my constant and certain Yes and Amen to all the promises of God?

Lord, I believe.  Help my unbelief!