Pierced for our transgressions...

This book is making quite a buzz across the country at the moment. Released next month, it looks set to become the must-read as we see how the wonder of the cross has become sidelined and shamed over the last few years particularly in Christianity.

Steve Chalke's comments in The Lost Message of Jesus are probably but the visible tip of a mammoth iceberg that is subtlely undermining Scripture's rich but clear revelation about what God was doing at Calvary 2000 years ago. Garry Williams has written a few articles recently that I found very useful when defending the penal and substitutionary nature of Jesus' death in a Theology essay last year, and Jim Packer's RTSF monologue What did the Cross achieve? is a classic work of recent years. But I can't think of such a systematic study of the biblical texts, the history of the doctrine, and the common ways in which penal substitution is called into question that has been quite so extensive. I hope in fifty years, God willing, I'll have a well-worn and much-prized copy of this on my bookshelf.

You can read John Piper's foreword on the book's site here, but here's a snippet that caught my eye:

There was only one hope for me – that the infinite wisdom of God might make a way for the love of God to satisfy the wrath of God so that I might become a son of God.

This is exactly what happened, and I will sing of it forever. After saying that I was by nature a child of wrath, Paul says, ‘But God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ’ (Eph. 2:4-5 ESV). What a grievous blindness when a teacher in the church writes that the term ‘children of wrath’ cannot mean ‘actual objects of God’s wrath . . . [because] in the same breath they are described as at the same time objects of God’s love’. On the contrary. This is the very triumph of the love of God. This is the love of God – the ‘great love with which he loved us’. It rescued me from his wrath and adopted me into sonship.

Humility is found at the cross

The ridiculous length of yesterday's post was made all the more superfluous by the absence in the Pauline section of this morning's New Testament exam of any question on justification or righteousness. Megadoh! Half way through now, with a hectic three-in-three-days gauntlet starting on Tuesday.

The boys and I carried on digging into Mark 14 last night. As the hour approaches and indeed arrives (v. 41) it's incredible to see just how in control Jesus is: he foretells Peter's denial and his own resurrection (28, 30), and his betrayal into the hands of sinners (41).

His fulfilment of Zechariah 13.7 shows the significance of Jesus' death: he is the shepherd going ahead and bringing in the kingdom. His prayer in Gethsemane is out of this world. And we see just how far we fall short.

Peter's response (29, 31) is probably nothing short of what mine would have been: 'I will turn over a new leaf for you this week Jesus', 'I will conquer this sin from now on'. It's echoed first in the contrast between Jesus and the disciples as he commands them to pray but they patheticly fall asleep, and then in the actions of Judas.

I'm not clear what Jesus means by 'the spirit is indeed willing, but the flesh is weak' (38) - is he just highlighting the impossibility in our fallen nature of being able to follow Jesus?

It was striking to look again upon the uniqueness of Jesus - it was striking to see the importance of prayer, as we are humbled before God. By ourselves we are very, very helpless. Yet we still think we can do it; we want to read this and think we can leave this place and give him what is his due.

Not 'I can' or 'I will', but through Jesus - be humbled, be little, be driven to the cross.