A true concept of revelation can be derived only from revelation itself. If no revelation ever took place, all reflection on the concept is futile. If, however, revelation is a fact, it and it alone—must furnish us the concept and indicate to us the criterion we have to apply in our study of religions and revelations. —Herman Bavinck, Reformed Dogmatics
Author: Josh King
A Silence Louder than Our Shouts (Matthew 27:11-26)
At Christ’s trial we shouted, but Jesus’ silence shouted louder. Some think that Matthew has birthed such anti-Semitic atrocities as the holocaust with Matthew 27:25; “His blood be on us and on our children.” But if you’re reading Matthew rightly you’re aware that Jesus alone is righteous and everyone else is guilty. You know you’re meant to see yourself as Peter, as Judas, as the priests, as Pilate, and as the crowds. Stuart Townend has taught us to sing well:
Behold the Man upon the cross
My sin upon His shoulders
Ashamed I hear my mocking voice
Call out among the scoffers
The cry for a savior of our own choosing is a sin we’re all guilty of (Romans 1:22-25). And we not only want our own savior, we want the Savior crucified. “Before we can begin to see the cross as something done for us (leading to faith and worship),” John Stott tells us, “we have to see it as something done by us (leading to repentance).” Don’t just see Jesus’ rejected here, see your rejection. Don’t just see Jesus hated, see your hatred. Don’t just see the clearest and greatest display of human sin here, see your sin. Don’t just see the Savior you need, see why you need a Savior. Our sin cries, “give us our idols, let Him be crucified.”
Hear your cries loudly, and then hear Christ’s silence thunder over them and drown them out. Pilate heard only an echo, but for the saints Christ’s cross is sin-deafening. Jesus’ silence didn’t simply surprise Pilate, it left him “greatly amazed.” There was a noble calmness; a majestic dignity in it. Rebels have long tried to claim Jesus’ image, but Jesus isn’t bucking authority. He is demonstrating a higher one.
So Pilate said to him, ‘You will not speak to me? Do you not know that I have authority to release you and authority to crucify you?’ Jesus answered him, ‘You would have no authority over me at all unless it had been given you from above. Therefore he who delivered me over to you has the greater sin (John 19:10–11 ESV).’
Don’t lose the regality of Jesus that is shining through the darkness of His suffering. Don’t lose what Jesus is doing for man for what man is doing to Jesus. Jesus isn’t just passively suffering. He is actively sacrificing. In his excellent book, The Cross He Bore, Frederick Leahy captured the loudness of Jesus’ silence well.
All too often Christ’s silence has been given a dangerous one-sidedness, as his passive obedience is stressed almost, if not altogether, to the exclusion of his active obedience. Christ’s silence was deliberate, emphatic and authoritative: it was his deed. The passivity of his suffering was real, but so was the activity of his obedience. Led as a lamb to the slaughter and like a sheep dumb before the shearers, he was active right up to and on the cross. He went as a king to die.
It was not the shouting priests who ruled the events of that day, but the silent great High Priest who was offering Himself as a sacrifice for sins.
There is a gloomy irony in Pilate’s actions on this day. He tries to wash the blood off his hands, but he cannot. The only thing sufficient to wash Jesus’ blood off Pilate’s hands and ours, is the very blood he is trying to wash off. The cross is the ultimate expression of our sinfulness. We can’t wash that off, but we can wash in it. For all who trust in Christ, His silent salvation thunders over our shouting sinfulness.
The Dogmatician: The Bread Science Can’t Engineer
And, further, the numerous manifestations of superstition evident today demonstrate that humankind cannot live by the bread of science alone but need every word that comes from the mouth of God. Indeed, science does not tell us what God is or what humanity is; it leaves us ignorant of the origin, essence, and goal of things. It can therefore never replace religion, nor ever compensate for its loss. —Herman Bavink, Reformed Dogmatics
Pronouncing Repentance Correctly (Matthew 27:1-10)
The word used to describe Judas’ “repentance” is slightly different from the normal one. It has the same prefix, but a different suffix. It begins the same, but ends differently. Herein is a parable.
The camera that is intensely focused on Jesus’ trial and crucifixion pans away only twice; in both instances the focus is the failure of one of His disciples. You’re meant to contrast the two. Together, Peter and Judas are the best illustration of 2 Corinthians 7:10, “For godly grief produces a repentance that leads to salvation without regret, whereas worldly grief produces death.” Douglas Wilson once tweeted, “As you contemplate repentance, be sure to distinguish ice shattering and ice melting.” Judas was shattered, but he was still ice. He was still cold. He was still hard. Peter was melted. Peter changed. Peter repented. Repentance does mean brokenness, but only brokenness coupled with warm faith.
Judas’ repentance is like that of Esau, Pharaoh, and Saul. It is, as Spurgeon quipped, “a repentance that needed to be repented of.” The prefix was pronounced perfectly, but the suffix was garbled. Pharaoh’s pronunciation of repentance sounded good at first, “This time I have sinned; the LORD is in the right, and I and my people are in the wrong. Plead with the LORD, for there has been enough of God’s thunder and hail. I will let you go, and you shall stay no longer (Exodus 9:27-38),” but he muddled the rest of the word, “But when Pharaoh saw that the rain and the hail and the thunder had ceased, he sinned yet again and hardened his heart, he and his servants. So the heart of Pharaoh was hardened, and he did not let the people of Israel go, just as the LORD had spoken through Moses (Exodus 9:34-35).”
In Judas, Esau, Pharaoh, and Saul we see sorrow, conviction, grief, and remorse, but we do not see repentance, and one way in which we do not see repentance is that we do not see faith. Repentance turns from sin, to Christ. Judas ran to the priests seeking to make things right. If he had the eyes of faith, he would have cried out to the only one who could make things right. Instead of trying to pay back, He would have looked to the one who was paying. Instead of finding priests who care nothing for his troubled conscience, he would have found the great High Priest who alone could purify his conscience (Hebrews 9:14). Worldly grief leads to death. When you are truly aware of your sins, if you have not faith in Christ, your only other option is the deepest despair. Hung on a tree, Judas was cursed by God (Deuteronomy 21:22-23).
And here is where another, surprising, but comforting contrast pops out at us. We are not merely to compare Peter and Judas, but Jesus and Judas. Two men would hang on a tree this day. Both would be cursed of God. But whereas Judas was cursed for his own sins, Jesus was cursed for the sins of others. “He himself bore our sins in his body on the tree (1 Peter 2:24).”
Let your despair, let your sorrow, let your guilt drive you to a tree, to a place of execution, to a cursed place of darkness, to a place of wrath and judgment. And may it be your sins upon that tree, but may it not be you. May it be Christ. Look to the cross of Christ and you will see both the ugliness of your sins, and the beauty of redemption. This is the only sight that can produce true repentance, because it is the only sight that can produce true faith.
Tolle Lege: Fear Not!
Readability: 1
Length: 94 pp
Author: Ligon Duncan
When we ignore death, we ignore God. God is the doer of death. When we ignore death, we ignore Jesus. Jesus is the defeater of death. Death is an enemy, and death is defeated. To ignore death is to ignore the sinfulness of sin, and the greatness of salvation. If you are afraid to think about death, Ligon Duncan will help you in Fear Not! by answering five simple questions.
- What is death?
- What happens after death?
- What happens when Christ returns?
- What is heaven?
There is also a chapter on the final judgment. If you are looking for a deep treatment of these topics look elsewhere. But if you are fearful of death and need some pastoral help that is mercifully brief, this is an excellent book.
Death is too deadly for us. But when Jesus Christ conquered death and robbed it of its sting, He enabled every believer to pass through death—the last enemy—into glory.
In my sinful moments—and I stress my sinful moments, because every true believer knows that God is good—there is no doctrine that I want to be untrue more than the reality of hell. I wish I could say that this doctrine is not true. But hell is the fairest reality in this world.
If you want unfairness, if you want discrimination, I can give you that.That is called heaven by grace. Heaven by grace is the most unfair doctrine imaginable. Sinners deserving condemnation get heaven forever because the One who was without sin became sin for their reconciliation.That is unfair, but hell is the fairest doctrine in the world.
The Dogmatician: God Is Not Indifferent to Anything
Religious indifferentism assumes that it is immaterial to God how he is served. It deprives him of the right to determine the manner of his service; in any case it postulates that God has not prescribed the manner of his service. …Factually and objectively, however, nothing is indifferent, neither in nature, nor in the state, nor in science and art. All things, even the most humble, have their specific place and meaning in the context of the whole. Human beings are indifferent only to what they do not, or do not sufficiently, know: they automatically assess and appreciate what they do know. God, who knows all things, is not indifferent to anything. —Herman Bavinck, Reformed Dogmatics
Mogwai and Gremlins
This post was originally published August 21, 2008
Alas, a generation has arisen that is ignorant of Mogwai and Gremlins. Mogwai are cute, furry, little, innocent creatures. There are only three rules concerning them:
- Don’t let them near bright light. It kills them.
- Don’t get them wet. They multiply; the more wet the more Mogwai. Upon multiplying their cute, innocent disposition is done away with.
- Don’t feed them after midnight. They then go into a cocoon stage and morph into Gremlins .
Sins are like Mogwai. Initially we think they are cute. We 
play with them, tickle them, laugh at them. They become our companions. But Mogwai always end up producing ugly Gremlins, the kind of sins that devastate us. We are walking along thinking we are doing so great spiritually because of all our “I do not’s”, and sudenly a Gremlin sin pops up and we’re stunned wondering “where did that come from?” John Owen advised, “Be killing sin or it will be killing you.” The law of sin is always at work in us, it never sleeps; we must be ever mortifying, always realizing its seriousness, never putting our spiritual gear in neutral. We must expose our sins to the light (note: sunlight kills both Mogwai and Gremlins) and extend them no mercy however cute they may seem.
The High Dive of Pride (Matthew 26:31-35, 69-75)
Sin is never content. It cannot be contained. Thinking you can keep that one “little” sin as a pet is like trying to chain King Kong or keep you own Jurassic Park in your soul. The chains won’t hold. John Owen put it this way,
Sin aims always at the utmost; every time it raises up to tempt or entice, might it have its own course, it would go out to the utmost sin of its kind. Every unclean thought or glance would be adultery if it could; every covetous desire would be oppression, every thought of unbelief would be atheism, might it grow to its head.
Sin is a food that when you feast on it, it devours you. It creates an appetite for itself that it cannot fill. Lewis captured this with Turkish Delight.
At last the Turkish Delight was all finished and Edmund was looking very hard at the empty box and wishing that she would ask him whether he would like some more. Probably the Queen knew quite well what he was thinking; for she knew, though Edmund did not, that this was enchanted Turkish Delight and that anyone who had once tasted it would want more and more of it, and would even, if they were allowed, go on eating it till they killed themselves. But she did not offer him any more.
Sin is the chugging of poison because it tastes good. When this kind of language is used of sin, what kind of sins pop into your mind. I bet you’re thinking of lust, covetousness, or something of the like. Does Peter’s pride register on the radar? How about his unbelief in Jesus’ words? Do you think lust more toxic than pride? Do you think covetousness more addictive than unbelief in Scripture?
Every son of Adam is an expert make-up artist. Even us guys. Every one of us make the pros at Hollywood look like a 4 year old who got into her mom’s vanity. They start with beauty and add to it. It takes real talent to made sin look “good”. We can even make sin appear so holy and pious. Sin can sound like, “Jesus, I’ll never deny you. Even if I have to die with you.”
Sin is like Sauron’s ring. We’re even tempted that we can use it for good. But sin’s wages are always death. Sin is a cursed sword that cannot be wielded for good save by God alone—and then it is never that God makes good of a sin He commits, for He never sins, but of sin that we commit.
Spiritual pride is God-belittling, and soul-destroying. You cannot wield it to build the kingdom. That sword is too big. Put it down now before you really hurt yourself. A fall of Peter’s magnitude begins with a stumble. Before Peter fell by shamefully denying, he was lifted up in pride, and it was the lifting that led to the falling. Pride is climbing up the high dive to do some impressive acrobatics only to spend the last moments flailing wildly as you realize there is no water in the bottom of the pool. Pride is doing some perfect 10 flips only to splat as a zero on the concrete.
Pride is the sin underlying all sin. It’s aim: to be god. You can’t. Someday you will fall. The higher you climb, the bigger the splat.
The Dogmatician: No Revelation Means No Religion
There is no religion without revelation. Scripture too derives subjective religion from revelation (Heb.1:1). It is, for that matter, perfectly natural that religion and revelation consistently go together and are most intimately connected. For if religion really contains a doctrine of God and of his service, it is self-evident that God alone has the right and ability to say who he is and how he wants to be served. “It is not the part of men to establish and shape the worship of God, but, having been handed down by God, it is for them to receive and maintain.”* Religious indifferentism assumes that it is immaterial to God how he is served. It deprives him of the right to determine the manner of his service; in any case it postulates that God has not prescribed the manner of his service. —Herman Bavinck, Reformed Dogmatics
*Helvetic Confession
Triumph Veiled in Travesty (Matthew 26:57-68)
In the midst of this text Jesus’ words bring us back to reality. If you’re muted this trail, if your only using your eyes, you’ll be as blind as the judges were as to what was going on. We walk by faith, not by sight, and faith comes by hearing, and living by faith is not the futile attempt to live a pipe dream.
You may think Jesus is overpowered. You may think Him unfortunately misunderstood. You may think this nothing more than a travesty of justice. But then Jesus speaks. Then you waken and see with the eyes of faith. Then you remember that He is laying down His life and that no one takes it from Him (John 10:18). You recall that He could call twelve legions of angels from His Father and that seriously impairs the force of the word seized (Matthew 26:57). You recollect the many times that Jesus told His disciples He “must go” to Jerusalem. You look back on the many instances during passion week when Jesus has pronounced judgment upon the Jewish leaders and understand they’re the ones being judged.
If you see here a travesty of justice more than you see a triumph for our justification—read again. There is indeed a travesty of justice here, but Jesus veiled our justification in His travesty. Don’t miss the beauty beneath the veil. Because of Jesus, God will be as just in justifying sinners, as men were sinful in condemning the Righteous One. This text does show us what sinful men do to the holy Christ, but it also shows us what the holy Christ does for sinful man. Because of Jesus’ words, we remember that the only reason we see man being able to do this to Christ, is because Christ chose to do this for man.
No Other Boast 