There’s a certain lyrical quality to this proverb which makes it beautiful, but there’s also an intriguing ambiguity about its meaning that makes you read it over and over again.

“Hope deferred makes the heart sick.” When your dreams do not come true, it is easy to become depressed. But notice, the hope is not necessarily failed. It is only deferred. The Hebrew word in this place means “to drag.” And so the Proverb is saying that when your hope takes a long time to come to fruition, when it drags, the time of waiting can be very sad and disappointing.

You can imagine how it feels to wait for something, something that you believe to be very important, even the realization of your dreams. You start to wonder if God is ever going to give it to you. You start to wonder why He’s taking so long. Does He really love you after all?

And this is where the second half of the Proverb comes in, and it seems to cut both ways. “But a desire fulfilled is a tree of life.” A tree of life– that’s an interesting metaphor. A fulfilled desire is like one of the trees in the Garden of Eden, the one that granted immortality. What could this mean?

There’s a simple contrast at work. The fulfilled desire is very good, whereas the deferred hope was sad. I think there’s something else going on, though, and I think the Eden imagery is an important clue. You see, Adam and Eve’s sin was a sin of false hope. Instead of trusting in God’s timing and being patient and content with His plan, they decided to take the object of their desire, the fruit of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. Genesis 3:6 says that this fruit was “desirable,” and so we can see that the original sin was a false desire fulfilled.

Thus while the fulfillment of our desires can be a very good thing, the pursuit of this fulfillment can always also be a temptation to sin. Are we allowing our heart to become sick because of our desires and our expectations about when and how they should be fulfilled? Are we, like Adam and Eve, trying to grasp now what might be given to us at a later time, on our own terms rather than on God’s?

“Heart sickness” is a very complicated thing, but it always takes us to an encounter with God. What do we think about Him and what He is doing in our lives at this moment? Do we place our hope, as well as our faith, in Him or are we still hoping for something else?

We must make sure that our desire for the Tree of Life does not become a desire for something more, for something that is not ours to take on our own terms. We must learn to wait on the Lord, to trust that He knows best. And as we trust Him, we will find that He is the true fulfillment of our desires.

All of this should drive us to the Cross. Jesus Christ must finally be our Tree of Life.

Why do you think he felt this advice was necessary? Do not grow weary while doing good… 

One obvious answer is that it is possible to “grow weary” from “doing good.” Anyone who has ever tried to help people, even just a little, will understand what this means. Those folks who give up large amounts of their time to volunteer work and service particularly feel the danger. We can grow weary from doing good.

Sometimes this is burnout. We neglect our family or other needs because we are engaging in works of charity. And this is a real danger. Other times, it is the the people we are trying to help who make the job wearisome. And sometimes folks just plain disagree about what needs to be done. One man’s “doing good” is another man’s “irresponsibility.” “I’m just here to help” can at times be a really exasperating thing to hear (and say).

And so what should we do in these situations? How do we keep from growing weary?

I think the first response always has to be to remember God. Remember who He is and that He has brought all of this upon you. And most of all, remember that God loves you and has provided eternal salvation for you in Christ. The rest is quite literally “just details.” Still beyond this, the Apostle Paul gives two primary instructions:

1) Remember your future reward. We shall reap what we sow. Obviously this is not meant to be taken in the sense of  works righteousness. It is also not meant to imply a quid pro quo. We are not cutting a deal with God in this life. Still, the concept of reward is not in itself a bad thing. Rewards are good. They acknowledge that the work was good, and they honor the one who did them. If we do good in this life, we will be rewarded in the world to come. Jesus himself said, “And everyone who has left houses or brothers or sisters or father or mother or wife or children or lands, for My name’s sake, shall receive a hundredfold, and inherit eternal life” (Matt. 19:29)

2) Do even more good. Paul says that we should “do good to all” as we have the opportunity. He singles out fellow believers as the first among those to whom we should be doing good, and so we must always start with the church. You cannot seek to do good for the world if you are neglecting the church. But still, you cannot miss the instruction to do good to all, even nonbelievers.

When you are growing weary from doing good, the answer is to look for more good to be done. The answers, while easy to say, are by no means easy to do. Still, they are the right solution. Remember who God is and what He has done for you. Remember your future reward. And go look for more work to do!

Therefore, if you died with Christ from the basic principles of the world, why, as though living in the world, do you subject yourselves to regulations— “Do not touch, do not taste, do not handle,”  which all concern things which perish with the using—according to the commandments and doctrines of men?  These things indeed have an appearance of wisdom in self-imposed religion, false humility, and neglect of the body,but are of no value against the indulgence of the flesh.

~Col. 2:20-23

The way in which Christians are “not under the law” is one of those famous disputes in New Testament studies, but this passage seems to make at least one thing clear, you do not gain mastery over the flesh by adherence to regulations and restrictions concerning temporal things. Neither eating, nor not eating in itself has any bearing on your spirit.

Now of course, this doesn’t mean that you can flaunt your decisions and freedom, not giving one fig what others think or how they will respond. The Apostle expects his people to abstain from things on a regular basis. But the point of sin or righteousness is not in the thing, the abstention, nor the law. It is in the spirit, motivation, and self-mastery of the Christian. Are they acting out of love, rightly esteeming the other higher than themselves, and pointing towards a net goal of godliness? Or are they just trying to prove a point, look nice and moral, or please other people’s expectations?

That is the conflict between the flesh and the spirit.

Your “flesh” is, at the end of the day, just as immaterial as your spirit. It’s simply the selfish appetite rather than the selfless one. Rules are for kids, and they will need lots of them. But that’s precisely because they are kids, because they are in training. The mature Christian will know that he has to navigate between tricky waters all the time and that a mere “Don’t do that!” is never really the answer.

Paul’s discussion does have to do with the particulars of the Jewish holiness code. That is true. But it isn’t as if he doesn’t push beyond those to principles. He does. In fact, the principles are the point. Get to the heart of the matter. In this way Luther is as correct today as he ever was.

1) The first point to make is that my views on having views has changed. When I became “Reformed,” I was brought into a sort of “movement” mentality. I’m not even talking about the fringe folks here. I’m just talking about RUF, John Piper, and average conservative Presbyterian church kind of stuff. When I made the transition from generic Southern Baptist to Reformed Presbyterian, I underwent an entire personality change and “worldview” transfer. I was told that everything, or nearly everything, I had formerly believed was mostly wrong and that now, armed with the right intellectual and theological equipment, I could go out there and “change the world” and “transform” the culture for Jesus. The general idea was that there was a spectrum of intelligence, commitment, and effectiveness in Christianity. I had formerly been on the weak side of that spectrum, and now I was coming around to “the real deal.” The more extreme, the more consistent, or so I thought.

Now of course, this wasn’t everyone. There were always those calmer and wiser heads about, but as a young man, I wasn’t impressed by them. I was impressed by the big talkers, the booming voices, and the appeals to tradition and toughness. I needed to be Braveheart here! This meant that there was a sort of black hat/white hat treatment of folks, and I’m talking about within the church. I didn’t judge them as good vs. evil, but as authentic and unashamed vs. politically compromised. And when you’re dealing with those kinds of categories, the choice is obvious. And so I went on to judge folks, in these terms, based on their theological positions.

This continued until about my third year at RTS. There had been plenty of controversial theological disputes along the way to throw fuel on my fire, but what ended up happening was that I hit a sort of wall. Several of my friends had made very erratic and unhappy religious shifts, some of them leaving the faith altogether. I had also come to see many positions that I had held as no longer persuasive. And then finally, I began making all sorts of new friendships with folks coming from very different points of view. The most important of these was my friend and now-collaborator Peter Escalante, who gave me a sort of “crash course” in traditional magisterial Protestantism. It’s odd to say that I needed that, but I did. I had bounced from one pole to the other, and I really hadn’t ever just quietly studied great books. I had always gone to those books with a pre-arranged agenda, some bigger point that I was trying to make and thus looking to those various books for support.

Now I’ve framed this in such a way as to “explain myself” in terms of my environment. This was true and an important part of the story, but it isn’t the whole story. I had character deficiencies. I was a very proud person and, in a way, intellectually lazy. If I encountered someone who was coming at a question from the opposite point of view from myself, I didn’t really try to listen to them and understand where they were coming from. I explained them away in terms of my theo-political taxonomy and then moved on. I would even blame bad marks in school on the fact that my teachers held to a different sub-theology than I did. Never mind that they had many other students to deal with as well, and that they’d most likely heard it all before. I just ran all data through my pugilistic paradigm and went on about my life with little self-reflection. This was wrong. It was sinful, and I need to apologize for it. And so to those of you who I haven’t seen in real life lately, and until I do, please forgive me for this.

2) Having come to a sort of intellectual tipping point, Peter Escalante pointed me towards a sort of irenic Protestantism, starting with Calvin, then carefully gleaning from both “Puritan” and “non-Puritan” Reformed theologians of the 17th century, learning from Hodge, and then ultimately C S Lewis and Francis Schaeffer, I both got more “conservative” and more “big-tent” oriented at the same time. Now I still argued with people. Indeed, the temptation now was to argue with those folks who held all the views I used to hold. But I think the style of argument was different already. It wasn’t simply a fight about points of view, but rather a more confident conversation about what is objectively the case. And there was the feeling that the debate wasn’t really such a big deal. The pursuit of wisdom and the cultivation of meaningful relationships was more important.

And then, with this in-process outlook, I joined “the real world.” I had to get jobs, mostly teaching, and I had to learn to dialog with folks who not only weren’t familiar with all my theological hobby-horses, but didn’t care! I don’t mean to imply the tired bit about “theology” not being important. It was. It was foundational. I just now had to learn how to use it in my life and not be a total weirdo. I’ve worked at two and a half schools (I’ll explain that story one day), one deli, and a very amazing church. I’ve had to deal with my past failings, learn to listen to other people (a lesson still being learned), and to find my own personality and style throughout. And during all of this, I think I’ve even been able to teach a handful of other young adults and impart to them some of my own learning when it comes to faith and life.

3) And so then, for the theology wonks out there. What “big” theological shifts have come about through all of this. Well, I can list them in order. A) I stopped being a “theonomist” six years ago, at least. I don’t mean that I now simply accept a secular establishment (I’ve actually written against that), but I don’t think that the Mosaic law was ever intended as a timeless law-code for all peoples and all ages. Who convinced me? Well, it was a funny mix of people. N.T. Wright and Jim Jordan actually did as much work as anyone, as they have a very interesting “redemptive historical” understanding of the torah. But also my professors at RTS, along with visiting professors whose work I had followed for some time helped a great deal. And then finally the historical work gave me a sense of finality. The historical theonomists had actually been the more radical Puritans and Scots-Presbyterians, whereas Calvin, the Anglicans, even the American Presbyterians had never been such.

B) With that came a belief in natural law. It was probably C.S. Lewis who convinced me of this, but there were also those personal friends along the way. The significance of this shift was actually very practical. It took the urgency out of ethical and political questions. Yes, right is right and wrong is wrong, but it isn’t actually the case that every dilemma has a singular prescribed solution, and there might well be lots of gray area. Indeed, this is often the case. This kind of shift took the pressure off the particulars and opened up space to think about the long term and big picture.

C) And then, perhaps predictably, I also managed to move from a more hard-edged “presuppositionalist” approach to apologetics and philosophy to what I believe to be a more classical point of view. I would not sign-off on the “evidentialist” namesake, mind you, but rather the older Protestant philosophy of Calvin, Hodge, and most-recently Bavinck and Lewis. While these big words might not mean much to most readers, it means that I have had to stop thinking in total “us” vs. “them” categories and, instead, start pursuing questions of knowledge from the point of view that the truth is out there, all truth is God’s truth, and it’s my responsibility to conform my mind to it. This requires patience, humility, and self-reflection. All of that sounds awfully self-righteous, and so I guess I have to admit that believing it doesn’t mean that I automatically do it. Those character flaws I’ve had didn’t just magically vanish. But at least now I’m preaching to myself as well as others.

D) Finally, I would say that my relationship to the visible church has grown more important and more central, even as I’ve adopted a more “moderate” or “balanced” point of view regarding its various emphases and commitments. I still have strong opinions, of course, but the most important thing any Christian can do is to hang on to Jesus, to keep the faith. If someone doesn’t have a settled opinion on any number of theological issues, but they are taking care of their family, coming to church regularly, and imparting joy to their community, then they are a strong Christian in my book. I have a lot to learn from them. Praying, especially at church events, singing loudly, encouraging fellow believers– these are essential features of the Christian life. These are what lead to outreach, growth, and progress in the kingdom. I still want to place a premium on teaching and theological formation, but the only kind of training that is worth a thing is the kind that actively and consistently encourages the fruit of the Spirit. And when it comes to this last and most important point, the principle influences have been 1) God, in bringing about challenges and changes to my life, 2) my wife, for both encouraging me and fixing me up in all sorts of ways, 3) my son, for softening me and giving all kinds of new responsibility, and 4) my Ruling Elder Bill Grete, for being a sort of inter-personal superman and teaching me more about serving people than I could have ever gotten in books.

My consolation on having changed these views is that I don’t think I was ever terribly nasty to anyone in particular, nor did I ever cause very much “damage.” Most of the world would consider these issues inside baseball and pretty insignificant. And so I’ll take that as a safety net, even though I think it has all been very significant. I’ll also say that I don’t mind having changed my mind. The process of correction needs to be real and pointed in order for it to become self-correction. This is the old Socratic way. “Know thyself!” And that means knowing when you’re wrong and learning from it.

In Peter we have a striking mirror of our ordinary condition. Many have an easy and agreeable life before Christ calls them; but as soon as they have made profession of his name, and have been received as his disciples, or, at least, some time afterwards, they are led to distressing struggles, to a troublesome life, to great dangers, and sometimes to death itself. This condition, though hard, must be patiently endured. Yet the Lord moderates the cross by which he is pleased to try his servants, so that he spares them a little while, until their strength has come to maturity; for he knows well their weakness, and beyond the measure of it he does not press them. Thus he forbore with Peter, so long as he saw him to be as yet tender and weak. Let us therefore learn to devote ourselves to him to the latest breath, provided that he supply us with strength.

In this respect, we behold in many persons base ingratitude; for the more gently the Lord deals with us, the more thoroughly do we habituate ourselves to softness and effeminacy. Thus we scarcely find one person in a hundred who does not murmur if, after having experienced long forbearance, he be treated with some measure of severity. But we ought rather to consider the goodness of God in sparing us for a time. Thus Christ says that, so long as he dwelt on earth, he conversed cheerfully with his disciples, as if he had been present at a marriage, but that fasting and tears afterwards awaited them, (Matthew 9:15.).

~John Calvin, comment. on John 21:18

And the women who had come with Him from Galilee followed after, and they observed the tomb and how His body was laid. Then they returned and prepared spices and fragrant oils. And they rested on the Sabbath according to the commandment. (Luke 24:55-56)

Who were these women? Matthew’s gospel says “the two Marys”; Mark says Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome; John’s gospel mentions Mary Magdalene; and in Luke we are told “It was Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and the other women with them, who told these things to the apostles” (Lk. 24:10). These women, and many of them, the daughters of Jerusalem as they are called (Lk. 23:27-28), were those who came to the grave.

Notice these women’s conflicting emotions and feelings. Notice their doubt:

Now on the first day of the week, very early in the morning, they, and certain other women with them, came to the tomb bringing the spices which they had prepared.But they found the stone rolled away from the tomb. Then they went in and did not find the body of the Lord Jesus. And it happened, as they were greatly perplexed about this, that behold, two men stood by them in shining garments. Then, as they were afraid and bowed their faces to the earth, they said to them, “Why do you seek the living among the dead? He is not here, but is risen! Remember how He spoke to you when He was still in Galilee, saying, ‘The Son of Man must be delivered into the hands of sinful men, and be crucified, and the third day rise again.’”

When the women told their story to the apostles, the apostles’ doubted. “And their words seemed to them like idle tales, and they did not believe them.” (Luke 24:11)

Compare this with Mark 16:10-13:

She went and told those who had been with Him, as they mourned and wept. And when they heard that He was alive and had been seen by her, they did not believe.

After that, He appeared in another form to two of them as they walked and went into the country. And they went and told it to the rest, but they did not believe them either.

It is clear that the people did not believe the women’s reports. How could they believe such a thing? Even in the 1^st century people knew that dead men don’t come back to life.

And you have to wonder if the women didn’t doubt themselves. Imagine– Peter, James, and John don’t believe you when you tell them that Jesus is risen. You are but lowly women. Yet YOU, you are the ones who are supposed to tell everyone the good news. And perhaps the report depends solely on you. What if Jesus doesn’t show himself to anyone else? Wait. What if you imagined it all? What if you are a little bit crazy?

And you know, we are just like them. We all doubt. We all doubt ourselves. We all doubt whether or not God is going to take care of us. Think of the many issues that are causing us to doubt right now.

We could doubt about our church. It’s a small church. Are we really a “real church”? Do we have our act together? We don’t even own our building. Are we going to make it?

We could doubt about our families. Are we doing the right thing? Are our kids going to be ok?

We could doubt about our nation. Surely there is much to doubt about there. If we don’t even know what marriage is, then what hope is there for us?!

Even when we want to believe, we struggle. We know what we are supposed to believe, but we doubt. This was that feeling, even on Easter!

Only encountering Christ brings assurance. But the women did encounter him. The apostles did encounter him. We have encountered him! Knowing God is the only to have assurance, and this comes through encountering the risen Christ. And so then, let us turn our hearts to Easter.

Now on the first day of the week, very early in the morning, they, and certain other women with them, came to the tomb bringing the spices which they had prepared. But they found the stone rolled away from the tomb. Then they went in and did not find the body of the Lord Jesus. And it happened, as they were greatlyperplexed about this, that behold, two men stood by them in shining garments. Then, as they were afraid and bowed their faces to the earth, they said to them, “Why do you seek the living among the dead? He is not here, but is risen! Remember how He spoke to you when He was still in Galilee, saying, ‘The Son of Man must be delivered into the hands of sinful men, and be crucified, and the third day rise again.’” (Luke 24:1-7)

It’s all true, every last bit of it. When Peter and the others ran to the tomb, they found it empty.  And that means that Jesus was who He said he was. This means He is the Lord, the Son of God. He is in control. He has conquered death, and he reigns on high!

This is the Jesus you must know. This is the Jesus you must serve.

Remember, He is not here, but is risen!  Believe.

At the end of it all, everything is going to be taken care of. God is in control of this world and our destinies. He has proven His strength. We can rest assured that “it is all going to be ok” because He is risen, He is risen indeed!

And the women who had come with Him from Galilee followed after, and they observed the tomb and how His body was laid. Then they returned and prepared spices and fragrant oils. And they rested on the Sabbath according to the commandment. (Luke 23:55-56)

Can you imagine having to keep this Sabbath? After seeing Jesus die, after mourning him throughout the day, and after watching him be taken away to be buried, these women had to go back to their homes, and they had to rest. They could not mourn properly. They could not stay at the grave (which we know they would have liked to have done). They could not even complete the burial preparations, since we see them bringing extra spices on the Easter morning. Their funeral was cut short for the Sabbath. This is Holy Saturday.

Holy Saturday is about waiting. It is the final Old Covenant Sabbath. From the human point of view, nothing is happening. It is a test of faith. Did it work? Is Jesus victorious? What will happen? Can we keep the faith?

But invisibly, something else is going on. Jesus is in Hades proclaiming His victory. He is preaching to the spirits below, binding the Strong Man, and taking captivity captive. Jesus is standing on the neck of Death even now.

This is Holy Saturday.

And yet here, lonely and sorrowful, we wait. We pray. We keep the Sabbath.

We look for tomorrow.

As soon as it was day, the elders of the people, both chief priests and scribes, came together and led Him into their council, saying,  “If You are the Christ, tell us.”

But He said to them, “If I tell you, you will by no means believe. And if I also ask you,you will by no means answer Me or let Me go. Hereafter the Son of Man will sit on the right hand of the power of God.”

Then they all said, “Are You then the Son of God?”

So He said to them, “You rightly say that I am.”

And they said, “What further testimony do we need? For we have heard it ourselves from His own mouth.”

(Luke 22:66-71)

When Jesus says “If I tell you, you will by no means believe,” he doesn’t mean that this is because of the insufficiency of arguments or evidence. He’s talking about the will. The people will not believe. They will not allow themselves to believe. Jesus answered their questions, and all throughout the passion narratives you get the sense that the people know his answers are true. And this is what makes it all the worse for them. This is what they cannot bear.

In Matthew’s gospel we even see Pilate protesting about the justness of the crucifixion. He warns them that their action is wrong, and they respond with that chilling line: “His blood be on us and our children.” The people are willing to take the blame. They don’t care. Just get it done.

This is what is so weighty– so scary– about Christianity. It forces you to see yourself in “the other,” but I don’t mean the poor, misunderstood, other. I mean the bad other. Christianity forces you to see yourself in evil.

The Cross is where we crucified Jesus. No gospel is complete without that affirmation.

I don’t emphasize this point just to be morose. I don’t do it to put a guilt trip on you. I do it because this is the only way that Easter can begin, with Good Friday. You believe in Jesus. You know he is who he says he is. And so realize your sin. Confess it. And then give it all to Jesus, to be crucified forever on his cross.

When He rose up from prayer, and had come to His disciples, He found them sleeping from sorrow. Then He said to them, “Why do you sleep? Rise and pray, lest you enter into temptation.” (Lk. 22:45-46)

I’ve often heard this part of the story presented as to indicate that the disciples had a lack of faith or at least a lack of willpower. They couldn’t fight off drowsiness, and so they gave in to the flesh. But this is not what the text says. By this point in the evening, the disciples were wired. Their nerves were racing. They were anticipating something awful. And the text says that they fell asleep “from sorrow.”

They were so wrecked by anxiety and grief that they collapsed. That’s why they were sleeping. That is what Jesus is encouraging them to fight off. And that’s what they could not overcome. “He found them sleeping from sorrow.”

I wonder if any of you have ever fallen asleep from sorrow? Probably a few mothers have. Perhaps in the event of a divorce or a death. It would have to be something traumatic, something gut-wrenching. And it would have to be the sort of thing that had worked on your mind and nerves in an intense way for hours at a time. This is what the disciples were feeling.

We aren’t the disciples on the eve of Jesus’ betrayal. That moment is over. And so we are not trying to re-enact that moment or pretend to be the disciples at that time. But I do think it is appropriate for Christians to feel a sort of sorrow when considering the cost of salvation.

I’m not very good at feeling things like this, to be quite honest. I’ve grown up in church, hearing these same stories every year, and I have a sort of disposition that just grins and bears it. But I believe that it is a Christian duty to empathize with the disciples on that night, to consider what the betrayal and death of Jesus meant and was, and to understand the weight of Maundy Thursday and Good Friday.

And so I keep coming back to this verse, “He found them sleeping from sorrow.” Sleeping from sorrow. Not mere tiredness. Not from lack of faith. Not from lack of interest. From sorrow.

Sleeping from sorrow.

May our hearts be grieved, but may our faith rest in our Lord and God.

Ah, holy Jesus, how hast thou offended,

that we to judge thee have in hate pretended?

By foes derided, by thine own rejected,

O most afflicted!

 

Who was the guilty? Who brought this upon thee?

Alas, my treason, Jesus, hath undone thee!

‘Twas I, Lord Jesus, I it was denied thee;

I crucified thee.

 

Lo, the Good Shepherd for the sheep is offered;

the slave hath sinned, and the Son hath suffered.

For our atonement, while we nothing heeded,

God interceded.

 

For me, kind Jesus, was thy incarnation,

thy mortal sorrow, and thy life’s oblation;

thy death of anguish and thy bitter passion,

for my salvation.

 

Therefore, kind Jesus, since I cannot pay thee,

I do adore thee, and will ever pray thee,

think on thy pity and thy love unswerving,

not my deserving.