Flight Paths

I certainly do not mean to be judgmental, but when people actually say it out loud, when they write it on Facebook posts, isn’t it a matter of “by your words you will be condemned” (Matt 12:37)?

            Listen to the things people say about why they worship where they worship, or what makes that place appealing to them.
            “I love the singing there.”
            “The preacher is so easy for me to listen to.”
            “I feel so good when I leave.”
            “Everyone is so friendly and loving to me.”
            “They came to visit me while I was in the hospital.”

            Okay, so maybe a few of them are not terrible reasons, but do you see a common denominator in them all?  It’s all about me and how I feel.
Why is it you never hear things like this?
            “I go because my God expects me to be a part of a group worship and accountable to a group of brethren and godly elders.” 
            “I go so I can provoke others to love and good works as the Bible says.”
            “I go to study God’s Word and this group actually studies the Bible instead of some synod’s pamphlet.”     
         “The sermons often step on my toes, but I want to be challenged to improve as a disciple of Christ.”

Can you see a completely different center of attention in those?  In fact, if the second list can be said to center on the object of our worship, what does that say about the object of worship in the first list?

I hear items from the first list often, but from the second seldom, if ever.  So here is my question:  If a person cannot find any items from the first list in a church, does that excuse him from the assembled worship in his area?  Of course not.

So why do we act like we are sacrificing something if the only place available has a preacher with poor speaking ability, no one who can carry a tune, and isn’t particularly outgoing?  If that is my idea of sacrificing for my Lord, I’d better hope our country never builds a modern Coliseum. 

Sometimes serving God is not a lot of fun.  Sometimes it isn’t very exciting.  Sometimes it is a lot of work with little appreciation.  Sometimes we will be ignored.  Sometimes we will be criticized.  Sometimes we will be the object of scorn and sometimes these things will come at the hands of our own brethren.  If I can’t take a boring sermon and off-key singing, what makes me think I can handle real persecution? 

If I would be ashamed for my first century martyred brethren to hear my griping about the church, why do I think it is acceptable for anyone to hear it?  Does it glorify God?  Does it magnify His church and His people?  No, I imagine it sends everyone else running from instead of running to “the pillar and ground of the truth,” the church for which “he gave himself up,” the manifestation of His “manifold wisdom” (1 Tim 3:15; Eph 5:25; 3:10).

And if somehow we could call it some sort of trial or persecution to worship with a group that is not exactly the ideal, what would the proper attitude be?  Certainly not griping about it, but rather “rejoicing that we are counted worthy to suffer,” (Acts 5:41).  Why, maybe we should actually go out and look for those places to worship! 

And if I did choose one of those places to hang my hat, would it really become any better with someone like me in it?  Make no mistake.  It isn’t about whether the kingdom of God, specifically the one I attend, is worthy of me and my commendation, it’s about whether I can ever be worthy of it.
 
For you know how, like a father with his children, we exhorted each one of you and encouraged you and charged you to walk in a manner worthy of God, who calls you into his own kingdom and glory, 1Thess 2:11-12.
 
Dene Ward
 

Alas! and did my Savior bleed
And did my Sov’reign die?
Would He devote that sacred head
For such a worm* as I?

Was it for crimes that I had done
He groaned upon the tree?
Amazing pity! grace unknown!
And love beyond degree!

Well might the sun in darkness hide
And shut his glories in,
When Christ, the mighty Maker died,
For man the creature’s sin.

Thus might I hide my blushing face
While His dear cross appears,
Dissolve my heart in thankfulness,
And melt my eyes to tears.

But drops of grief can ne’er repay
The debt of love I owe:
Here, Lord, I give myself away,
’Tis all that I can do.
           
            This post is not so much about what the song lyrics mean as it is about teaching us to pay attention to what we are singing.
            Read the lyrics above, if you have not already.  Some of them may be unfamiliar because they are routinely left out of hymnals.  Songs of Faith and Praise is particularly bad about choosing three verses whether their order makes sense or not.  Sometimes they will choose four, but why makes no more sense to me than just choosing three.  In the case of this song, it really fouls up the meaning of at least one verse.  Can you find it?
            Look at the fifth verse.  It begins with "But" which means that verse is reliant upon something that came before.  Yet the fourth verse is one that is routinely left out of many hymnals.  "But drops of grief" refers back to "melt my eyes to tears."  Each verse gradually leads you to the answer to the question in the first two lines of verse one, "Did my savior die for me?"  Then it speaks of the reactions that answer should provoke in us:  mortification, gratitude, grief, and, finally, total surrender.  Now the song makes sense.
            But then I hope you have also noticed the complete disparity between the music of the verses and the music of the chorus.  Isaac Watts wrote the lyrics in 1701, using the Scottish tune "Martyrdom."  The above lyrics were the entire song.  In 1885 Ralph Hudson added the words and tune of what is considered the chorus or refrain:  "At the Cross."  It was written in a "campmeeting style" which some people believe means it was added to more than one tune.  It is indeed a completely different style than the verse melody, a bit more raucous and knee-slapping, and it completely interrupts the flow of the verse lyrics, which may well account for few people noticing the problem with the verse 5 "but" having no antecedent that makes sense.
            As a musician and writer, I would like to suggest that all five verses be sung, with the refrain sung at the end, if at all.  It would make more sense both lyrically and musically.  And, as mentioned earlier, this sort of thing is a good test of how much attention we pay to what we sing.  The answer to the title question, in this case at least, "Do You Know What You Are Singing?" might well be, "No, we don't."
 
For while we were still weak, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly. For one will scarcely die for a righteous person—though perhaps for a good person one would dare even to die— but God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us. Since, therefore, we have now been justified by his blood, much more shall we be saved by him from the wrath of God. For if while we were enemies we were reconciled to God by the death of his Son, much more, now that we are reconciled, shall we be saved by his life (Rom 5:6-10).

*Yes, "worm" is the correct word.  Some hymnals have pandered to modern desire for self-esteem and changed it to "one."  We need to realize just exactly how low and utterly irredeemable we were, and the unthinkable sacrifice of a God becoming like us and living and dying like we do, though he never deserved it.
 
Dene Ward

Today's post is by guest writer Keith Ward.

It seems to be popular to make comments about the old church of Christ attitudes as though the last generation knew little of grace and faith and focused only on obedience, exact obedience.  I have made a few of those comments myself and can point to sermon outlines from 35 years ago where I endeavored to change such attitudes. However, when the comments become disparaging and self-serving (look how much better I am), then perhaps it is time to consider.
 
They grew up in tough economic times, faced tough spiritual battles to be allowed to exercise their faith in the way God commanded, and they did not express emotions as readily as today’s generations. They did not talk a lot about God’s grace for that was God’s business. Their business was to obey God.
 
That they did understand that obedience must proceed from faithful trust and was founded on God’s grace can best be understood by the songs they sang:
 
“True hearted whole hearted, faithful and loyal…..
“My faith looks up to thee……
“Looking to thee from day to day, trusting thy grace along the way….Sure of thy soul redeeming love….
“Trust and obey, for there’s no other way
“I know whom I have believed….
“He will give me grace and glory…where he leads me I will follow, I’ll go with him, with him all the way
“Faith is the victory….
“Is thy heart right with God?
“To Christ be loyal and be true in noble service prove your faith and your fidelity, the fervor of your love
“What a friend we have in Jesus….
“Purer in heart O God….
Take time to be holy….
“Only in thee….trusting, I’m cleansed from ev’ry stain, thou art my only plea….
 
And it was in those days and by one of those men that “Lord I believe” was written.
 
And, the list could go on and on.
 
 Because some treated service like a checklist and may not have expressed as much heart as some do today, please do not mark them all as empty. In fact, if a checklist religion was the spiritual ceiling for some, “who art thou that judges the servant of another?” (Rom 14).  More people should fear minding God’s business about God’s servants!
 
And, if all the expression of heart and trust and faith and grace today makes one careless toward obedience, then how is that one any better before God?
 
These were our parents and grandparents, our spiritual fathers in the faith.  Most knew more about the grace of God than many today who spout fancy words, but they just tended to their own business of serving faithfully.
 
But thanks be to God, that you who were once slaves of sin have become obedient from the heart to the standard of teaching to which you were committed, and, having been set free from sin, have become slaves of righteousness (Rom 6:17-18).
 
 
Keith Ward
 

Keith says I have a personality disorder—I think my name is Francis and I was born in Assisi.  Can I help it if the hawk insisted on having a conversation with me this morning?
            I haven’t been out for awhile due to one thing and another, but he must remember me from all the times I went out while he was a baby and spoke to him up in his nest.  So whenever I am outside and he is anywhere nearby, he gives me a shout, and I say hello. 
            I had my trekking poles so I could give Chloe a little bit of exercise.  She is a bit like her mistress, prone to gaining weight at the slightest sniff of food, forget about actually eating it, and she needed a walk.  After our first greeting across the fence from one another, the hawk flew behind me and caught up, still staying in the trees on the other side of the boundary, but a little closer this time.
            I told him he should come on over.  If he wanted to stay safe, we had plenty of trees, plenty of food—he should have known that anyway.  His parents had sat on the tomato fence in our garden, diving for mice, squirrels, rabbits, and other goodies that they took to him for supper every night.  I kept walking and again he flew to catch up, but once again landed on the other side of the fence.
            When we reached the point where the path cut inward to the center of our property, I told him it was time for him to make his decision.  “Come on,” I told him.  “You’ve been here before.  You grew up here.  You know it’s a good place and a safe place.  If you stay over there, who is going to look after you?”
            I waited a minute then turned and headed down the path toward the drive.  His wings flapped behind me like a big rug flapping on a clothesline in the wind.  I turned, only to see he was headed away, deeper into the woods. 
            I suspect I will still hear from him once in awhile and even see him again.  At least until that time when something nabs him and he stops showing up.  It’s a pity.  He would last longer if he stayed close by, but now some neighbor may shoot him just for fun, or he may stray into some other hawk’s territory and lose the fight for it.  That’s what happens when you turn your back because all you can see is restrictions instead of safety, and when all you want to see of the other side of the fence is freedom instead of danger.  Sooner or later, one way or the other, it will be too late to come back.
 
In the fear of Jehovah is strong confidence; and his children shall have a place of refuge. The fear of Jehovah is a fountain of life, that one may depart from the snares of death. Prv 14:26,27.
 
Dene Ward

One of our favorite parts of camping has always been the food!  Every night we cook over a wood fire—burgers, chops, steaks--everything tastes like it came from a five star gourmet restaurant when you have oak and hickory burning under them.

Keith starts the fire about a half hour before we need it, stacking one inch square split pieces of wood in an open crisscross pattern.  The flame is often three feet high and roaring.  Do you think that is when we cook?  No, not unless you want scorched raw meat.  The fire must burn down to the point that the flames are gone and all that is left are red coals.  Now it’s time to cook.  That inch or two of quiet embers is far hotter than a three foot high roar.
He opens the folding grill over them to burn it clean, and places the meat of the night six to ten inches above the heat, sometimes over to the side if, as is the case with chicken, we need to make sure it gets done all the way through before the outside chars. 

Children look at the two fires and it seems totally counterintuitive to them.  Surely the bright high flames make the hotter fire and the softly glowing embers the coolest.  Then they hold their hands out and discover their mistake.

Babes in the Lord can make the same mistake about the faith of others.  Surely the loud showy faith is the real one.  Surely the person who shouts amen and holds up his hands is more passionate about his love of God than the member who sits and quietly listens or bows his head.  I have lost count of the number of young people I have heard say they admired someone’s faith when it was the former type and not the latter.  The loud faith may well be just as sincere as the quiet, but if that’s all you look for, you will miss some of the best advice, the best encouragement, and the best examples of resilient faith in a life of trial that ever sat in front of you—or behind you, or even right next to you on the pew.

You are smart to look for help and encouragement in another’s faith.  Just be smart about the signs you judge it by.  Loud might just as easily be hot air as roaring fire.
 
Take away from me the noise of your songs; for I will not hear the melody of your viols. But let justice roll down as waters, and righteousness as a mighty stream. Amos 5:23-24
 
Dene Ward

If you are familiar with the prophets, you know they often told stories and then made spiritual application.  We can read from Jewish histories that the rabbis did the same thing.  It was a standard teaching method.  In fact, some of the stories had the same elements, just as many jokes begin, “A rabbi, a priest, and a lawyer…”  I have read in at least one source that the rich man and the poor beggar were staple characters in teaching stories all across the mid-east, even as far west as Egypt, one reason we should be careful about calling Luke 16 a “true story.”  Jesus was known as a rabbi because he used some of the same methods.
            I have known people who insisted that preachers and teachers should not “tell stories.”  The Bible has plenty, they say, so use them.  While in the past I agreed more than I disagreed, I have come to a change of mind.  Yes, Jesus used some of the events from the Old Testament in his teaching, but far more often he used the events of every day life in stories we call parables.  So I tell stories too.
            Some people ask me how in the world I come up with the applications to all my stories.  The answer to that is another reason I tell them.  Some of them come easily but often I have to think for awhile to find a spiritual application.  Guess what I am not doing while my mind is busy with spiritual things?  Guess what does not happen while I search the scriptures trying to find pertinent passages?  Far better to spend your time searching for applications to the events in your life than to brood over them, becoming depressed and bitter.  Far better to see a way to improve yourself than to blame others as if the whole world were out to get you and you are the only one these things happen to. 
            Life is the training ground for an eternal existence.  If I cannot become spiritual enough to handle things here, how will I ever become suitable for a spiritual existence with a Spirit Deity?  That is our goal, but the way some of us lead our lives, never learning from them, I wonder if we know it, or even care. 
            Try today to make some spiritual applications from the things that happen to you.  Think about your past and the many times you could have learned a lesson if your eyes and ears had been open to them.  It is really not that difficult.  If I can do it, anyone can.
 
And the disciples came, and said unto him, Why do you speak to them in parables? And he answered and said unto them, Unto you it is given to know the mysteries of the kingdom of heaven, but to them it is not given. For whosoever has, to him shall be given, and he shall have abundance: but whosoever has not, from him shall be taken away even that which he has. Therefore I speak to them in parables; because seeing they see not, and hearing they hear not, neither do they understand. And unto them is fulfilled the prophecy of Isaiah, which says, By hearing you shall hear, and shall in no wise understand; And seeing you shall see, and shall in no wise perceive: For this people's heart is waxed gross, And their ears are dull of hearing, And their eyes they have closed; Lest haply they should perceive with their eyes, And hear with their ears, And understand with their heart, And should turn again, And I should heal them. But blessed are your eyes, for they see; and your ears, for they hear. For verily I say unto you, that many prophets and righteous men desired to see the things which you see, and saw them not; and to hear the things which you hear, and heard them not, Matt 13:10-17.
 
Dene Ward

We did Lamaze just like all the other young couples when we had our boys.  But things did not work out quite like they were supposed to.  Something in the structure of my hips kept my babies from turning over facedown.  They were head down, not breach, but face up is a similar problem.  "Sunny side up," the OB nurses called it, so their little necks could not bend far enough to make that last curve and the first delivery was far more traumatic than it should have been.  Eventually the old country doctor we had in the cornfields of Illinois just yanked Lucas out with "high forceps."  By the time Nathan was born we were in a larger city and the doctor there, when confronted with the same problem, refused to do something so "barbaric."  "We don't do that here," he told me.  But I was fully dilated and ready to deliver so we had an emergency C-section. 
            Either way meant I did not have that first little cuddle with a newborn.  I was still under anesthesia with Nathan, and Lucas had been stuck in the birth canal so long his heartbeat was slowing and he needed extra care.  Finally about 4 hours after Lucas was born, I sat up gingerly on the side of the bed and they brought my newborn and placed him in my arms.  Of course he was precious and I loved him instantly, but the first thing I saw were his eyes.  They looked exactly like mine and I nearly cried.
            If you have been with me awhile, you know the eye saga.  I have so many rare conditions based primarily on the size and shape of my eyes that I have been told it's a wonder I got past 20 without losing my vision entirely.  And there he was, with exactly the same almond shaped eyes.  My eye doctor at the time insisted I take him in at six months and he examined him as well as you can a baby that size.  When he smiled and said, "He's just fine," I wanted to laugh and cry and do a jig all at the same time.  He may look like me, but down inside the workings of those eyeballs, he is not the same at all.  Praise God!
            But here is something we should all wonder:  what other things has my child inherited from me?  Not sin, of course.  We won't even argue that today.  But all of us have seen children grow up to act just like their parents.  Sometimes they take a tiny little flaw and take it to its logical and much larger end.  "How can you act that way?" parents will often say, and then cringe in horror as their children tell them.  We may have an unwritten line we will never cross.  They see the line for what it is—hypocrisy—and march right over it.
            It's fun to see ourselves in old photos of our parents, or even our ancestors from way back.  Every photo of my father as a child shows him crossing his feet, even in a high chair.  I did it as well, in every picture my mother had of me.  Lucas did not, but Nathan did, and now both of my grandsons, Nathan's sons, have done it.  But there are far more important things to look for, some we want to see and some we don't.  Look at your children and grandchildren today.  Watch them, train them.  That's what God expects of us.  He wants us all laughing, crying, and doing a jig on judgment day when we see those precious souls inherit a home in Heaven, despite their ancestors' flaws, including ours.
 
Give ear, O my people, to my law: Incline your ears to the words of my mouth. I will open my mouth in a parable; I will utter dark sayings of old, Which we have heard and known, And our fathers have told us. We will not hide them from their children, Telling to the generation to come the praises of Jehovah, And his strength, and his wondrous works that he hath done. For he established a testimony in Jacob, And appointed a law in Israel, Which he commanded our fathers, That they should make them known to their children; That the generation to come might know them, even the children that should be born; Who should arise and tell them to their children, That they might set their hope in God, And not forget the works of God, But keep his commandments, (Ps 78:1-7).
 
Dene Ward

I learned hospitality from my parents, and it was not because we had a large home with extra guest rooms and plenty of money to prepare lavish meals.  The first house I remember as a child was a two bedroom, one (tiny) bath house. We had an eat-in kitchen, not because it had plenty of room for a table and chairs but because that was the only place to eat, on a narrow ledge against the wall that we called a bar, three down one side and one person at the end, right in the doorway.  What I learned about hospitality in that little place was that our meager means had nothing to do with whether or not we offered it.
            I remember my mother talking about another young couple in the same congregation who understood the word exactly as they did.  After a Sunday evening service, my mother would look at the woman and say, "Well, I have a dozen eggs."  The woman would look back at her and say, "I have a loaf of bread."  Then that couple would come to our house and we would all eat scrambled eggs and toast.  And nothing else, because that is all we had.  Yet they did this again and again and their relationship became closer and closer because of it.
            I can imagine that some are thinking, "How awful!  I would never invite someone over for scrambled eggs and toast and nothing else."  And that means they do not understand the reason for all those hospitality commands in the New Testament.  As those two young couples learned:  it's not about fancy meals and beautiful accommodations—it's about being together.
            And day by day, attending the temple together and breaking bread in their homes, they received their food with glad and generous hearts, praising God and having favor with all the people. And the Lord added to their number day by day those who were being saved (Acts 2:46-47).  One of the reasons the early church grew and became as close as blood relatives was that they were together as much as possible, not just in their worship, but also in the homes, "day by day."
            I presented this once at a women's gathering and it was immediately objected to.  "That's not what we do these days," a woman said, meaning it is no longer a pleasant little custom to stop by and see one another in the evenings during the week, or even have someone over for an impromptu Sunday evening supper.  Well, guess what?  It wasn't a custom in the Roman Empire either.  Why do you think those commands are scattered through so many books in the New Testament?  Those people had to learn to do it, and they did because that is what they were told to do, and what they ultimately discovered would make the church what God intended it to be, and it did.
            Many years ago we had a dismal week that left us near to despair in our work with a particular congregation.  A couple there took it upon themselves to drop by to cheer us up.  Because of my mother's influence, I simply had to offer them something.  I had baked ginger cookies (we couldn't afford chocolate chips) the day before to put in the boys' cookie jar, and Keith is a master popcorn popper, the old-fashioned way, on the stove-top with bacon drippings.  That is what we offered them—ginger cookies and popcorn, and we sat there stuffing our faces while the gloom melted from our hearts like sun on the morning fog--for at least a little while.  That is what hospitality among brethren is all about.
            This week, find someone with a loaf of bread and offer them some scrambled eggs to go along with it.  It may not be haute cuisine ("high cooking"), but it will certainly lift your spirits higher, and who knows what other good may come of it?  After all, it was God's idea in the first place.
 
Contribute to the needs of the saints and seek to show hospitality (Rom 12:13).
Above all, keep loving one another earnestly, since love covers a multitude of sins. Show hospitality to one another without grumbling (1Pet 4:8-9).
One who heard us was a woman named Lydia, from the city of Thyatira, a seller of purple goods, who was a worshiper of God. The Lord opened her heart to pay attention to what was said by Paul. And after she was baptized, and her household as well, she urged us, saying, “If you have judged me to be faithful to the Lord, come to my house and stay.” And she prevailed upon us (Acts 16:14-15).
 
Dene Ward
 
 

I don’t know how many times in my life I have heard people say the Law of Moses was a matter of form religion only, that the heart did not matter to God one way or the other.  How anyone could think this of a religion whose mantra seemed to be Thou shalt love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your might (Deut 6:5) is beyond my comprehension.  Yet all of us have blind spots where what we have heard all our lives keeps us from seeing things right under our noses.
            Here is a list of passages to read at your convenience in the next week.  It will amaze you, stun you, and forever more settle the matter.  God expected his people to live the Law every day of their lives, not just on the Sabbath.  He has always wanted their hearts.  Isa 1:11-17; 29:13; 30:8-14; 58:13,14; 66:1,2; Jer 7:8-10; 8:8,9; 22:3,4; Eze 33:13, 30-33; 34:1-31; Hos 6:4-6; 10:12; 12:6; Amos 5:11-15; 8:4-10; Mic 6:6-8.    
            Yes, form was important to God.  It showed exactly how much faith and devotion his people had to obey him in even the smallest details.  As God told Moses, See that you make things according to the pattern which was shown you in Mount [Sinai], Ex 25:40.  Jesus even said the Pharisees were right to be careful to follow the Law exactly:  Whatever [the Pharisees] bid you, do and observe…for these things (tithing even their herbs) you ought to have done, Matt 23:1,23.  But he went on to say that the heart was even more important:  You have left undone the weightier matters of the Law, justice, mercy, and faith.  God expected their obedient following of the pattern of worship to match an obedient life of righteousness, coming from a pure heart of faith, love, and mercy.  He flatly told them that none of their worship would be accepted otherwise.
            Why do you think Jesus was so angry with the scribes and Pharisees?  They prided themselves on knowing and keeping the Law, but they seemed totally ignorant of those scriptures listed above.  He quoted several of those passages to them (Matt 9:13; 13:14,15; 15:8,9), ending with, Go learn what this means, the ultimate insult to a scribe, a “teacher” of the Law.
            Those Jewish leaders were still under the Law at the time.  Do we, who have a better covenant, a better priest, and better forgiveness, think God will expect any less of us?  God demands more than simply following His law to the letter.  He expects a life of service from us, Inasmuch as you have done this unto the least of these my brothers, you have done it also unto me, Matt 25:40.  Let’s not sit on our pews congratulating ourselves because we are following all the rituals correctly, if we have left so much else undone throughout the week.  As Peter reminds us in 1 Pet 4:17, judgment will begin with us.  We had better make sure our hearts are ready for it.
 
I hate, I despise your feasts, and I will take no delight in your solemn assemblies.  Yes, though you offer me your burnt offerings and meal offerings, I will not accept them, neither will I regard the peace offerings of your fat beasts.  Take away from me the noise of your songs, for I will not hear the melodies of your viols.  But let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness as a mighty stream, Amos 5:21-24.
 
Dene Ward
 

Today's post is by guest writer Lucas Ward.
 
I think most all church members are familiar with the story of the prophet Nathan confronting David after David’s sin with Bathsheba. (2 Sam. 12:1-7a) We know God sent Nathan to David. We know the story that Nathan told David about the rich man who stole the pet ewe from his poor neighbor rather than taking from his own multitudinous flock to feed his visitor. We know how David, in righteous anger, declared that rich man worthy of death and passed the sentence that the man would repay his poor neighbor fourfold. We know how Nathan then looked in David’s eye and said, “Thou art the man!” My question is, how excited do you think Nathan was to get out of bed that morning?

Think about who David was at the time that Nathan confronted him. He was the warrior hero of the nation and the scourge of all the surrounding nations. When David took over as king, Israel was in sad shape. The entire coastline and all the coastal plains were occupied by the Philistines, the Canaanites, and the Phoenicians. Syria had taken over most of what should have been Israel’s land north of the Sea of Galilee, and Moab, Ammon, and Edom occupied Trans-Jordan and large parts of Southern Israel. The Israelites occupied only the mountainous interior and were subject to constant raids by their neighbors. When David first became king (of Judah only for the first seven years) it seems that the Philistines considered him a vassal king. Then David defeated the Canaanites, the Moabites and Edomites. He conquered the then existing two Syrian kingdoms. He pushed the Philistines back into their five base cities and denied them any further expansion. David also received tribute from the Phoenicians (Tyre & Sidon) and the kingdom of Hamath. At the time of his sin with Bathsheba, David was completing his last major conquest (Ammon) which would ensure his kingdom’s security. He was at this time just over 50 years old. He was the revered hero of his nation. He had also already murdered Uriah to keep the secret of his sin with Bathsheba. So, do you think Nathan was at all worried about confronting him? If David had truly broken with God, Nathan likely wouldn’t survive the day. I think I’d be nervous.

While it is unlikely that we will ever have to confront a warlord about his adultery and murder, we are commanded to correct erring brothers: “Brothers, if anyone is caught in any transgression, you who are spiritual should restore him in a spirit of gentleness. Keep watch on yourself, lest you too be tempted.” (Gal. 6:1) This obligation often makes us uncomfortable because we are nervous about how the brother or sister might react. Sometimes we avoid this duty because we don’t want to deal with the drama that might result. Maybe we are afraid this person won’t be our friend anymore. They will yell at us, hurt OUR feelings, and then things will be awkward forever after that. Regardless of all that, which are legitimate fears, the Bible makes it clear that confronting erring brothers is an obligation placed upon us by God. Rom. 15:14, 1 Thess. 5:14 and 2 Thess. 3:15 all show that part of our duty as Christians is to admonish one another.

Our obligation goes beyond just “getting on” each other. Among other passages, 1 Thess. 5:11 and Heb. 3:13 teach us that we should be exhorting each other. Heb. 10:24-25 tells us that the whole reason we are to attend church services is to “consider how to stir up one another to love and good works”. We should be thinking about each other and trying to find the best ways to encourage each other as we work our way to Heaven. And, as needed, we should be admonishing and confronting each other about sins we might become caught up in.

One other reason we shy away from this uncomfortable duty is the fear that if the erring brother is offended, he might leave the church. While that would be sad, if the brother is so caught up in his sin that he won’t repent, he needs to be removed from the church anyway. Paul discusses this exact scenario in 1 Cor. 5: “Cleanse out the old leaven that you may be a new lump, as you really are unleavened. For Christ, our Passover lamb, has been sacrificed. Let us therefore celebrate the festival, not with the old leaven, the leaven of malice and evil, but with the unleavened bread of sincerity and truth.” (vs. 7-8) Just as God commanded Nathan to go to David, we are to go to our erring brethren and do our best to bring them back to the fold.

The other side of this story is, of course, David’s reaction. He didn’t become angry. He didn’t act affronted. He didn’t try to lie or cover it up. In 2 Sam. 12:13, he admitted his guilt. We know from other passages, notably Ps. 51, that this wasn’t a bare admittance of guilt, but the beginning of a true and deep repentance. Just as we can learn something from Nathan’s courage in confronting David about his sin, we can learn from David how to handle it if we are ever on the receiving end of the admonishment. The natural reaction to having a brother tell us he thinks we are in sin might be, “How dare you accuse me?!” But this should not be the reaction of a Christian whose primary motivation is to please God.

While the conversation will probably catch us off guard, and our first reaction might be to deny, these opportunities are the perfect chance to check up on ourselves. After all, 2 Cor. 13:5 does teach us to “Examine yourselves, to see whether you are in the faith. Test yourselves.” If your brother comes to you with a concern, think about it. Examine yourself and test yourself out. Your brother might be wrong. He might have misunderstood. He might even have poor motives in telling you. Weighed against the possibility of losing your eternal soul, however, none of that matters much. Consider carefully whatever he or she said to make sure you are still in the faith. After all, we are to “. . . work out your own salvation with fear and trembling” (Phil. 2:12). If, upon contemplation, you discover that your brother is right and you are erring, repent and fix it. If you realize that your brother made a mistake in admonishing you, thank him for his concern. After all, it wasn’t easy for him to confront you. He was likely just as nervous, uncomfortable, and even scared as you would be if you were to have to confront him. He loved you enough to overcome that fear and come to you anyway. That kind of love is precious.

Like Nathan, we have obligations to confront erring brethren. Like David, we should listen, consider the admonishment, and if sinning, we need to admit it, repent, and move forward. In all this, our love for each other and for God should be the over-riding motivation.
 
Lucas Ward