THE UNNAMED

feeding . . . gathering . . . carrying. . . leading. (Isaiah 40:11)

Dear Church,

Please forgive this late pastoral letter! It’s been a very full week. Stuart closed our “Commendables” summer series this past Sunday by speaking about the unnamed commendables in Scripture, especially in the Gospel accounts. In these unnamed ones—like the woman who touched the hem of Jesus’ garments, or the wedding servant who obeyed Jesus’ direction to fill the many jugs with water—we find examples to emulate and even a sense of solidarity. After all, our names aren’t written in the Bible like Job or Moses. But “unnamed” though we may be in that sense, Stuart reminded us that upon entry into heaven we will each be given a new name (even a secret name) by our Father in heaven.

God knows us and He knows our deeds. But therein lies a problem for us. Scripture is consistent in its depiction of humanity as fallen and condemnable. How, then, can we receive the designation, “commendable”? Scripture is clear: only on account of the commendability of Christ, the only perfectly commendable member of the human race. By faith and hope in him we are justified and the verdict of condemnation that looms over us is replaced by a verdict of commendation. We celebrated this as we took the bread and cup on Sunday, as we remembered that our salvation cost something, that the condemnation we deserve fell on Christ instead of us, so that we might receive the commendation of the righteous Christ. “God made him who had no sin to be sin for us, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.” (2 Co. 5:21)

On this side of the cross there is no more condemnation for us, but there still remains a great need for conviction. Whereas condemnation results in exclusion and rejection, conviction leads to repentance and restored relationship. We are instructed in Scripture to maintain a clear conscience, to keep short accounts with the Lord, and when our heart condemns us, to return to the cross, confess our sin, and receive God’s grace anew.

Rich blessings,

Ben

RUTH

feeding . . . gathering . . . carrying. . . leading. (Isaiah 40:11)

Dearest family,

First of all, thank you to those who communicated with me after the message on Sunday, and by email, the deep responses of heart to the Word. It is always encouraging when we find together that the same deep is calling out to deep, that the depth of the riches of God’s grace displace such deep responses in us. It is almost impossible for me to effectively convey in précis form what I shared on Sunday, but I will give you this. One of the intimate intimations of grace in Ruth’s story is when Boaz invites her into the inner circle, even though she is a foreigner, a stranger, a Moabitess no less, excluded from the assembly of the Lord’s people. Boaz says to her, “Come over here and eat. Have some bread and dip it onto the wine vinegar.” If that is not a foreshadowing of the one who is to come, full of grace and truth, who would take the bread and take the cup and say to us, “Come over here, sit and eat.” Would this passage have been in the back of George Herbert’s mind, my very favorite poet, when he wrote the following? Read and meditate.

LOVE bade me welcome; yet my soul drew back,
Guilty of dust and sin.
But quick-eyed Love, observing me grow slack
But quick-eyed Love, observing me grow slack
Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning
If I lack'd anything.

'A guest,' I answer'd, 'worthy to be here:'
Love said, 'You shall be he.'
'I, the unkind, ungrateful? Ah, my dear,
I cannot look on Thee.'
Love took my hand and smiling did reply,
'Who made the eyes but I?'

'Truth, Lord; but I have marr'd them: let my shame
Go where it doth deserve.'
'And know you not,' says Love, 'Who bore the blame?'
'My dear, then I will serve.'
'You must sit down,' says Love, 'and taste my meat.'
So I did sit and eat.

Pastorally yours,

Stuart