Author: Tim Hayes

It is commonly understood that Christ instituted a new ritual, the Lord’s Supper, partaking of bread and wine representing His body and blood, as a sacrament or ordinance of the Church. A very basic problem with this claim is that Christ never actually does any such thing, and neither do any of His apostles.

What Christ does, during that last Passover meal with His disciples, is explain that two of the key elements of Passover, the affikomen and the cup of blessing (or redemption) (1Co 10:16), represent His body and blood. He tells us that as often as we partake of these particular elements (Lk 22:19-20), contained in Jehovah’s Passover celebration, we show His death until He returns. (1Co 11:26) He never even hints at starting something new.

Paul affirms this by referring to Passover as the Lord’s Supper (1Co 11:20, 23-25), identifying the Communion elements in this way. As Scripture offers no other means to sanctify any particular set of elements as representative of Christ before God, any attempt to decouple them from Passover implies flagrant presumption; it can’t actually be done.

The modern concept of the Eucharist didn’t exist in the time of the Apostles; it evolved nearly a century later, a product of that awkward and painful era in which Gentile Christians were desperately trying to distance themselves from Judaism in order to avoid severe Roman taxation and persecution. Anything that might be used to identify believers as Jewish had to go: circumcision, the Sabbath, as well as God’s feasts and dietary laws. It was during this time that Christian theologies emerged claiming the abolition of Mosaic Law, separating us from this delightful treasure, contradicting Christ’s direct command  (Mt 5:17-19), and the original Apostolic witness. (Ac 21:24)

Jesus Christ didn’t start a new meal or ritual for the Church; what He did was deepen our understanding of an old one, and encourage us to enjoy Him in it: He’s our Passover. (1Co 5:7-8)

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Pursuing God is like running in a marathon where almost everyone is ignoring the course design and making up their own finish line. It’s an altogether unique dynamic: most running alongside us aren’t actually in the race, and there’s ultimately no sure way to tell who is. Finishing well requires knowing the correct destination, constantly focusing on reaching it ourselves (Php 3:13-14), encouraging others to come with us (He 3:13), and ignoring the pull of those who’d turn us out of the way. (1Ti 6:3-5)

Every spiritual question isn’t a good one; every religious topic isn’t a profitable one. Many call us to follow as they suddenly turn down a side street or head off into the woods. God hints at this when He exhorts us to avoid unprofitable topics (2Ti 2:14), and foolish, ignorant questions. (2Ti_2:23)

Discerning what’s profitable and worthwhile in our pursuit of God, where we should be spending our time and energy, requires clarity in God’s purpose for us: that we walk in love, holiness, and faith. (1Ti 1:5) Our objective is to know Him and please Him (Php 3:10), to be found in Him (Php 3:9), and to be like Him. (Php 3:11)

An infinite number of appealing distractions are offered us, so we must constantly be asking, “How will this help us know God, please Him, and be more like Him?” If it doesn’t line up with God’s purpose, then it’s ultimately wasting time … our most precious resource.

When we neglect to ponder the path of our feet, maintaining our orientation in light of our destination, we can easily find ourselves off course. At that point, it really doesn’t matter how fast we’re running, or how hard we’re trying … until we’re back in God’s race it’s all for naught. (1Co 3:15)

Let’s run with purpose (1Co 9:26); let’s run with deliberation. (Php 3:15) Let’s run to win (1Co 9:24) … to win Him. (Php 3:8)

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In the wake of Hurricane Irma, as we pack up and head back down to our home in Jacksonville, FL to survey the damage, I’m reminded God has a purpose in everything, even in storms. (Na 1:3) He’s in absolute control of all things at all times, and every detail fits perfectly into His eternal plan.

We know this instinctively (Ro 1:20), that God controls Nature and Man, inevitably asking “Why?” whenever trouble comes.

But God doesn’t owe us any explanation, and generally doesn’t condescend to explain Himself to us. What He does tell us is sufficient for me: that it’s for His pleasure (Re 4:11), to reveal His glory and wisdom (Ps 19:1), as well as His justice, wrath and power. (Ro 9:22)

If anything at all has a purpose, then everything has its purpose: to glorify God as He reveals Himself through it. If that’s all I ever understand, that’s enough. I can trust that God Almighty knows what He’s doing, rejoicing in Him and thanking Him for all things.

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Recently, I’ve been feeling impatient with those who don’t appear to listen well, only to find that I myself haven’t been listening so well — not carefully considering challenges before responding (Pr 18:13), allowing myself to be distracted by commotion in my soul rather than focusing on clear communication.

So often, the faults we think we see in others are simply projections of our own. (Ro 2:1) God gives us ears for a reason; we should use them. (Mt 11:15)

A listing ship is leaning; to enlist is to engage, sign up, commit. To listen, pay attention, to lean in with the heart and mind, to focus intently (Pr 4:20), requires humility and strength, a certain freedom from agenda and bias, being unthreatened and receptive, not agitated and fearful but quiet, calm, alert and sober.

God calls us to be swift to hear (Ja 1:19), to listen eagerly, deliberately, intentionally. He can speak to us through anyone, sharpening and refining us in any situation.

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I need a reminder that I’ll give account to YHWH for every word (Mt 12:36); whether speaking or writing, I should should check every impulse, weigh every syllable, seeking God’s pleasure (Ps 19:14) and assistance. (Col 4:6)

My lips aren’t mine (Ps 12:4), they’ve been bought with the blood of Messiah (1Co 6:19-20), I’m just a steward of them now.

Even in prayer, fewer words are better. (Ec 5:2) He knows what I need, and chattering before Him is evidently being inappropriately familiar, disrespectful.

I’m encouraged to speak with deliberation, almost reluctantly (Ja 1:19), as if each word is costing me. When my words are streaming forth en masse, unweighed, unchecked, it’s a sure sign of sin (Pr 10:19), that I’m not speaking with purpose to edify, encourage, build up, and move others toward God. (Ep 4:29)

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God often speaks of His laws and commandments as testimonies (Ps 119:2), precepts (Ps 119:4), statutes (Ps 119:5), and judgments. (Ps 119:7) It’s all God’s Word (Ps 119:9) revealing God’s Way (Ps 119:37), so what’s He telling us about it through these various terms?

Our testimony is what we declare about our personal experience. Since God experiences completely and perfectly, His witness and testimony is reliable, making us wise. (Ps 19:7b) He flawlessly proclaims the nature of metaphysical reality through His commandments (Ps 119:138), enlightening our eyes. (Ps 19:8b)

A precept is a moral principle or guide that may be found within an instruction or law; we discover them within God’s commandments as He opens our eyes. (Ps 119:18) For example, the Sabbath command contains precepts relating to rest (Ex 20:10), work (Ex 20:9), setting aside time for communion with God and others (Le 23:3), holiness (Ex 20:8), life cadence and rhythm (Is 66:23), God’s creative work (Ex 20:11), human value and equality (Mk 2:27), servant leadership (Ge 2:2-3), God’s prophetic timeline (Col 2:17), and of salvation itself. (He 4:10-11) We find understanding through YHWH’s precepts as He teaches us how to think clearly (Ps 119:104), and we search them out within His commands knowing that these are His testimonies, perfectly revealing His nature, way and wisdom to us.

The statutes of YHWH are His specific commands and laws, and the words that perfectly express them. (Ps 19:7a) These laws are flawless in both content and scope (Ps 119:96); if we add to them, take away from them, or alter them in any way we diminish this perfection. (De 4:2) These statutes are commands in sense that they are not optional; God requires us to obey them diligently. (Ps 119:4)

As we hide these words in our heart (Deu 6:6) and meditate on His statutes (Ps 119:48), YHWH changes our souls (Ps 19:7a), teaching us the nature of sin (Ps 119:11), and moving our hearts to rejoice in Him. (Ps 19:8a)

The judgments of YHWH reveal His discernment, His analysis, His altogether righteous estimation of every motive, thought and action. (Ps 19:9) His understanding is infinite (Ps 147:5), knowing all eventualities and possibilities about all things at all times. Each of His commandments is thus both a testimony about, and a perfectly just evaluation of some dimension of spiritual reality; God’s commands are windows into His ultimate righteous accusation of the wicked (Jn 5:45), as well as His willingness to quicken us all to fellowship with Himself. (Ps 119:156)

YHWH’s testimonies are profoundly wonderful; our souls should deeply cherish them (Ps 119:129), sticking to them like glue (Ps 119:31), valuing them above all riches (Ps 119:72), meditating on them (Ps 119:99), delighting in them and drawing our counsel from them. (Ps 119:24) Taken together they form one law, a single perfect testimony of metaphysical reality, eternally righteous (Ps 119:144), applicable in every age, founded forever. (Ps 119:152) We should ask God to incline our hearts to them (Ps 119:36), and seek the regular fellowship of those who know them well. (Ps 119:79)

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The risen Christ, standing alone a garden, was mistaken by a close disciple for the local gardener. He asked her a simple, penetrating question: “Whom are you seeking?” (Jn 20:15)

Whom are we seeking? How are we seeking Him? How can we tell? How do we know?

Mary was absolutely desperate to find Jesus Christ; she was simply beside herself. Not finding Christ wasn’t an option, no matter where He was. Perhaps that’s a start. Is not having Christ an option we’re willing to live with? or even entertain?

Well, wanting Him isn’t enough, evidently. Knowing Him as well as she did, she didn’t recognize Him when she found Him. She wasn’t expecting Him where He was, or in the state He was in. She vastly underestimated Him, having some lowly notion about where He might be and what He might look like. But she knew His voice, and was longing to hear Him. He had to reveal Himself to her, even though He was standing right in front of her. Do we know the voice of God? Are we longing to hear Him, as He reveals Himself to us?

In even asking us the question, Christ presumes we’re seeking some one, and not just some thing. If we’re content with toys and trinkets, I suppose He’ll leave us to them, and not even ask. (1Jn 2:15) But if we’re at least looking for God, He’ll help us. (Mt 7:7)

And in seeking sincerely, we ought to be walking in the light we already have. We call Him Lord, but are we doing what He said? (Lk 6:46)

How else do we seek after the risen Christ? How do we find Him, if it isn’t in obeying what we already know of Him, following after Him, and continually asking Him to show us more?

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Our house is mostly empty now … well, it’s not even ours any more; we closed on it Monday, so we’re renting it back for a couple days until we can get our things out. We’ve sold most all of our furniture and knickknacks, and the bulk of what remains is boxed up in the front room.

Today, I rent the moving truck and start loading; we head to Florida tomorrow, and start a new chapter in our lives.

It’s tempting to reminisce about our lives here in Texas over the last decade, how God has been so faithful, and to be a little intimidated by the unknown before us, but I’m reminded that we’re sojourners on Earth, strangers and pilgrims here (1Pe_2:11); earthly life is a vapor that appears for an instant, and then vanishes. (Ja 4:14)

The words of an old hymn come to mind, “This world is not my home, I’m just a passin’ through. My treasures are laid up, somewhere beyond the blue. The angels beckon me through Heaven’s open door, and I can’t feel at home in this world anymore.” I don’t feel at home here, not anywhere down here, not really.

I’m not living as if this earthly life is all I have; I can’t live that way; I won’t live that way. My father lived for this world and died at age 43, back in 1981. His immediate family still remembers him, but we’ll all be gone soon too, and then he’ll be nothing to no one, just like the rest of us will eventually be, as far as this life goes.

It’s still so real to me, just as it was the day he died, that this life means nothing if we don’t live it in light of eternity. In 500 years, what will be left of what we know now? Not much. And even that’s a blink of an eye. Eternity is such a long, long time, and the longing for significance in every one of us tells us that it’s real.

Home is where the heart is, and the heart is where the treasure is. (Mt 6:21) Mine is looking up, to a heavenly city being prepared, at least in part, for me. (He 11:16)

I’ll feel at home where there’s no sin, no sickness, no fear, no malice, no falsehood, where truth and love are as an eternal day (Re 22:5) … where my Savior’s glory outshines the sun. (Ac 26:13)

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To sharpen means to remove roughness and unevenness from a blade or a point to improve its ability to cut or pierce. For one object to sharpen another, there must be very precise alignment and movement in their relative positions over time; one must be positioned to receive the sharpening influence and the other must be positioned to provide it, and the hands of an experienced craftsman must bring the two together repeatedly. It does not happen all at once, but over many repeated, precisely engineered strokes.

God employs this as a fascinating illustration of how friends edify one another: “Iron sharpeneth iron; so a man sharpeneth the countenance of his friend.” (Pr 27:17) When friends deliberately invite each other to facilitate their pursuit of holiness, God can use them to this end with miraculous precision.

As the countenance is the reflection of the heart, this sharpening is the refinement of disposition and orientation, the honing of character. It is not merely teaching, or even discipleship or modeling, but a purification, a transformation, something only God can do.

Christ the Master Craftsman (He 3:4), Who indwells the individual believer (1Jn 4:15), the communion of believers (2Co_6:16), and works in and through all men (Pr 16:1), can sharpen us through anyone if we’ll position ourselves to hear Him and submit ourselves to Him. But it is in building relationships particularly for this purpose, cultivating the trust of godly friends, where we can be more open to seeing His way through the loving challenges of those who know us well (Pr 27:6), that His finest work is done.

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