On Putting on the Lord Jesus Christ
(Romans 13:14; Ephesians 4:24; Colossians 3:5-14)
Nakedness
renders very few people more handsome.
Most people look worse in the bathtub than they do anywhere else.
By the time we are 35 years old gravy and gravity have taken
their toll. We look better
clothed.
Then what shall we wear? Anything
at all? Shabby clothes?
Soiled clothes? “Far-out”
clothing as unserviceable as it is ostentatious?
Surely we want to wear clothing that enhances us.
And if we can find clothing that is “just right” for us, we
may even say that our clothing “makes” us.
The apostle Paul was fond of the metaphor of clothing.
In his letters to congregations in
Rome
,
Ephesus
and Colosse he speaks metaphorically of clothing which should be thrown
out, as well as of clothing which should be worn all the time.
The apostle knows something we do well to remember: nakedness
(metaphorically speaking) is not possible.
It is impossible to be unclothed spiritually.
He never urges his readers to put on something in order to cover
up their spiritual nakedness. Instead
he urges them to take off that clothing which always clothes, naturally
clothes, fallen human beings, and then to put on that clothing which
adorns Christians, and adorns them just because they have first put on
the Lord Jesus Christ himself.
I:
-- First,
the clothing that has to be rejected.
Everyone knows that some clothing is not merely old or frayed or
threadbare. Some clothing is
much worse than this: it is vermin-ridden.
Vermin-ridden clothing is not to be washed or patched or simply
set aside in case it comes back into fashion.
It has to be destroyed.
For this reason Paul begins his wardrobe recommendations with the
startling phrase, “Put to death….”
“Put to death what is earthly in you: fornication,
impurity...” and so on. Degenerate
sexual behaviour is inappropriate to Christian discipleship and must be
eliminated.
What the apostle had to say in this regard shocked the ancient
world. In ancient
Greece
a man had a wife for human companionship; he had as many mistresses as
he wanted for libidinal convenience; and he had a pubescent boy for
ultimate sexual gratification. As
the gospel surged into the ancient world Christian congregations stood
out as islands of sexual purity in a sea of corruption.
Do we still stand out today?
Not so long ago the
Toronto
newspapers published articles on the promiscuity of NHL hockey players.
Players were not named for the most part (although one Maple Leaf
identified himself unashamedly as one who had been tested for AIDS).
A player with the Montreal Canadiens, a fellow who makes no
Christian profession at all, remarked, “I always thought it was
supposed to be one man and one woman for life.”
Does it take a hockey player to remind the present-day church of
what it is supposed to uphold? In
the ancient world the church stood out as startlingly different; the
society surrounding the church had never seen anything like it.
I am asked over and over what I think about “trial marriage”.
Invariably I say that “trial marriage” is a logical
impossibility; it is as logically impossible as a trial parachute jump.
As long as you are standing in the doorway of the airplane, you
haven’t jumped at all. Once
you have jumped, however, it isn’t a trial; it’s the real thing.
A trial parachute jump is logically impossible.
So is a trial marriage.
If a commitment intending indissolubility hasn’t been made it
isn’t marriage at all. If
a commitment intending indissolubility has been made it isn’t a trial.
We can be sure of one thing: the person who foolishly thinks
there can be “trial marriage” will also think there can be “trial
adultery”. Paul,
reflecting the conviction of all Christians of the apostolic era,
insists that some clothing can’t be helped by spot remover.
It has to be destroyed. “Put
to death what is earthly in you”, is his manner of speaking.
There are additional items of clothing which should be destroyed.
“Passion, evil desire, covetousness”, with covetousness
underlined, since covetousness amounts to idolatry, he tells us.
The Greek word for covetousness is PLEONEXIA.
PLEON -- more; EXIA, to have.
Covetousness is the passionate desire to have more -- have more
of anything. It is evil in
that the passionate desire to have more corrupts us and victimizes
others.
To crave greater prestige, greater notoriety, greater visibility
is to embrace compromise after compromise until we have thoroughly
falsified ourselves, a phoney of the phoneys.
To crave more goods is to fall into dishonesty.
To crave more power, greater domination, is to become first
exploitative then cruel.
Paul sums up the passionate desire to have more -- covetousness
-- as idolatry. Martin
Luther used to say, “Our god is that to which we give ourselves, that
from which we seek our ultimate satisfaction.”
What we pursue, what we actually pursue regardless of what we are
too polite to say we pursue, what our heart is secretly set on when all
the socially acceptable disguises are penetrated; this is our god.
Because we expect to be rewarded by this deity (and will
be rewarded, Jesus guarantees with his repeated, “They have their
reward...”) we secretly, yet surely, give ourselves to it.
Such idolatry, insists the apostle, we ought swiftly to put to
death.
He isn’t finished yet. Also
to be killed are “anger” and “wrath”.
ORGE, anger, is smouldering resentment, calculated
resentment, long-relished resentment that nurses a grudge and plots ways
to even the score. THUMOS,
wrath, on the other hand, is a blow-up, the childish explosion that is
no less sinful for being childish. The
petulant adult with infantile tantrums, as well as the adult whose
long-relished resentment is kept smouldering; both these people are
pitiable. They think they
are well-dressed when in fact their shabby clothes are loathsome because
verminous.
Lastly, the apostle speaks of “slander”, “abusive talk”,
and “lying”. Slander is
the ruination of someone else’s reputation.
Abusive talk is any language that assaults and is meant to hammer
people. Lying is deliberate
misrepresentation. The
slanderer is as lethal as a rattlesnake.
The abusive talker is as brutal as a sledgehammer.
These people plainly damage others.
The liar, on the other hand, while certainly deceiving others,
principally damages himself. You
see, the liar who lies even in the smallest matters has rendered himself
untrustworthy. Once he is
known to be untrustworthy no one will say anything of any importance to
him; no one will confide in him. All
he will hear for as long as he is known as a liar is what’s trivial.
Of course the liar can be forgiven (and should be); but the liar
can never be trusted. Far
more than he victimizes others he victimizes himself.
The apostle never minces words.
There is clothing we must not merely shed; we must get rid of it.
“Put to death”, he tells us, the impurity which defiles, the
craving which corrupts, and the talk which either damages others or
renders oneself untrustworthy.
II:
--
At the beginning of the sermon I said that nakedness (metaphorically)
isn’t possible. We
jettison the clothing which we must only because we have first
put on, already put on, the new clothing which becomes all of us.
In his letter to the Christians in
Rome
Paul says, “Put on the Lord Jesus Christ.”
We do put him on -- in faith -- so that he becomes ours
and we become his. To the
Christians in Ephesus Paul writes, “Put on the new nature, created
after the likeness of God in true righteousness and holiness.”
To the Christians in Colosse he says, “Put on the new nature,
which is being renewed in knowledge after the image of its creator.”
It is plain that Christians are those who, in faith, have put on
Jesus Christ himself. As we
put on him we put on that renewed human nature which he is
and which he fits onto us; as all of this happens the image of God, in
which we were created but which has become scratched and marred and
defaced -- this image of God is re-engraved and now stands out starkly.
If this is really what has happened (and what more could
happen?), what is the result of our having put on Christ?
(i)
The first result is startling; the first result is so public, so
notorious, so blatant that it can be observed even by those who make no
profession of faith at all. The
first result is that the barriers throughout the world which divide,
isolate and alienate human beings from each other are crumbled.
“Here there cannot be Greek or Jew”, says Paul, “...nor
barbarian, Scythian, slave or free person; but Christ is all and in
all.”
The barriers in the ancient world were as ugly as they are today.
The Greeks regarded themselves as intellectually superior to
everyone else. They were the
cultured of the cultured. The
Greek language was considered both the most expressive and the most
mellifluous (beautiful sounding) of any language.
Why, compared to the sound of Greek all other languages had a
harsh, unmusical, brutish sound: “bar-bar”.
Greek people therefore regarded everyone else in the world as a
barbarian.
We modern people look upon the study of languages as a mark of
the educated person. No one brags of being unilingual.
But the ancient Greeks boasted of knowing one language only.
They despised the study of non-Greek languages.
They argued that since every language is inferior to their own,
and since everyone who speaks an inferior language is inferior to the
Greek people, why waste time studying the inferior languages of inferior
people? Max Mueller,
an internationally acclaimed linguist of the late nineteenth century;
Mueller insisted that a desire to learn other languages arose only
through the indirect illumination of the gospel, arose only when the
people who spoke these languages were no longer seen as barbarians but
as brothers/sisters.
The Scythians mentioned in our text today are named inasmuch as
they were regarded as the lowest form of human life.
“More barbarian than the barbarians” is how the Greeks spoke
of them. Scythians were held
to be barely human, scarcely human.
Utterly unhuman were slaves.
In the ancient world the slave wasn’t considered to be a human
being in any sense. Slaves
had no rights. They could be
beaten, maimed or killed with impunity -- and why not, since killing a
slave, through overwork, for instance, was no more significant than
breaking a garden-rake through overuse.
No less a philosopher than Aristotle had said that a slave was a
highly efficient tool that had one disadvantage not found in
other tools: the slave had to be fed.
And yet in the early days of the church the spiritual leader of
the congregation was frequently a slave.
Freemen and women, people whose social class towered above that
of a slave; freemen and women recognized the godliness of the slave who
was leading their congregation. They
recognized the spiritual authenticity and authority of someone whom the
society at large didn’t even regard as human, and deferred to it.
Only in a Christian congregation could this phenomenon be seen.
It happened nowhere else. It
was the single most public consequence of putting on Christ.
One consequence of putting on our Lord, of putting on our new
nature in righteousness and holiness, is that the congregation is a
living demonstration of the collapse of those barriers which divide,
isolate and alienate people from each other.
(ii)
A second consequence: in putting on Christ, in putting on that
new nature which is being renewed after the image and likeness of God,
we become clothed with the character that shines in our Lord himself.
We put on compassion and kindness.
Compassion is literally the state of being attuned to someone
else’s suffering. It is
the exact opposite of what we mean by “do-gooder”.
The do-gooder does good, all right (or at least does what he
regards as good), but does it all from a safe distance, does it all with
his hands but is careful to leave his heart out of it, lest his heart
become wrenched, never mind broken.
The compassionate person, on the other hand, is completely
different; the compassionate person’s heart is attuned to someone
else’s suffering, even if there is very little that that person can do
with her hands. If you were
afflicted or tormented yourself, which person would you rather have with
you: the do-gooder who will only tinker remotely, or the compassionate
person who may only be able to resonate with your pain? -- always the
latter, for the latter will in the long run be vastly more helpful and
healing than the tinkerer.
We put on kindness as well. Kindness
is holding our neighbour’s wellbeing as dear as our own.
Such kindness has about it none of the negativities surrounding
“do-goodism”. In the
time of our Lord’s earthly ministry the word “kind” was used of
wine; wine was said to be kind when full-bodied red wine had no sourness
about it. Such wine was rich
and delightful but without any sour aftertaste.
The same word is used by our Lord himself when he says, “Take
my yoke upon you, for my yoke is --
is what, easy? The English
translations say “easy”, but the Greek word is CHRESTOTES,
and everywhere else it means kind. An
ox-yoke was said to be kind when the yoke fit so well that it didn’t
chafe the animal’s neck. “Yoke”
is a common Hebrew metaphor for obedience to Torah.
When our Lord tells us that his yoke is kind he means that our
obedience, an aspect of our faith in him; such obedience to him won’t
irritate us, chafe us, rub us raw – or render us sour.
When we put on Christ, continues Paul, we put on lowliness,
meekness and patience. Lowliness
is humility, and humility, you have heard me say one hundred times, is
simply self-forgetfulness.
Then what about meekness? Meekness
is strength exercised through gentleness.
All of us have strengths; to be sure, we have weaknesses as well,
but all of us have strengths. We
can exercise our strengths heavy-handedly, coercively, domineeringly, or
we can exercise our strengths gently.
When Paul wrote his epistles the word “meek” was used every
day to describe the wild horse which was now tamed (and therefore
useful) but whose spirit had not been broken.
Patience means we are not going to explode or quit, sulk or
sabotage when things don’t get done in congregational life exactly as
we should like to see them done.
We put on forgiveness, and forgive each other, moved to do so
simply by the astounding forgiveness we have received from our Lord
himself.
(iii)
The final consequence of putting on Christ: we put on love, with
the result, says Paul, that the congregation “is bound together in
perfect harmony”. He
maintains that a congregation is to resemble a symphony orchestra.
An orchestra never consists of one instrument only playing the
same note over and over. An
orchestra consists of many different instruments sounding many different
notes at the same time. The
full sound of the orchestra is what people want to hear.
Whether the full sound is a good sound or a grating sound depends
on one thing: is the orchestra playing in harmony?
We should be aware of what the metaphor of harmony doesn’t mean
for congregational life. It
doesn’t mean that the goal of congregational life is uniformity or
conformity; and it doesn’t mean that voices which shouldn’t be heard
all the time shouldn’t be heard at all.
(The sharp crack of the timpani drum and the piercing note of the
piccolo aren’t heard often in an orchestra, but when they need to be
heard they should be heard.)
It is love, says the apostle, and love only, which renders
congregational life harmony rather than cacophony.
For it is such love which renders our life together honouring to
God, helpful to us, and attractive to others who may yet become
Christ’s people as they too are persuaded to put on the Lord Jesus
Christ. For as they do this,
they will find, as we have found already, that to put on him is also to
put on that human nature which God has appointed for us.
And to clothe ourselves in this is to find that clothes do indeed
make the man -- and the woman too.
Victor
Shepherd
June 2007