Holiness

When was the last time you washed your coffee mug at the office, or water bottle, or your filtered water pitcher? Kris Frieswick writes in the Wall Street Journal, “I was bred to believe that product expiration or “best by” dates are just marketing—and marketing is for rubes. When the light on top of my water pitcher insists I change the carbon filter, I use the same approach I have used for expiration dates on prescription drugs, eggs and canned soup: I ignore it. I only swap it out when the water starts to taste funky, or when it filters too slowly, which is annoying and wastes my precious waning time on Earth.

The mold and bacteria growing in my pitcher, however, were the least of my concerns, according to Caitlin Proctor, an assistant professor of engineering at Purdue University, who studies “the entire microbial ecology of what’s growing” in drinking water systems. “There’s a whole ecosystem in there,” she says.

Most of the residents of this ecosystem don’t hurt you if ingested, she says. But carbon filters don’t kill or filter some types of opportunistic pathogens, such as Legionella pneumophila (which causes Legionnaire’s Disease) and Naegleria fowleri (better known as braining-eating amoebas). And the slimy biofilm that clings to the inside of your pitcher when you don’t wash it enough will give them a nice place to grow.

The good news, says Proctor, is that these scary bad guys don’t generally hurt you by drinking them. They can ruin your day if they are aspirated, come into contact with your eyes or get near your brain.”

What is contaminating our soul that is flying under your radar? We are not to let the contaminants of the world conform us into their “mold.”

In an issue of CT Pastors Kelli Trujillo writes:

As we drove through northern Arizona’s Coconino National Forest during our family road trip this summer, we found ourselves unexpectedly and unnervingly close to an active wildfire. Plumes of smoke alerted us to hot spots nearby where fire crews worked to contain the blaze. We occasionally saw flames spreading among the ponderosa pines near the roadside as we traveled. We gazed sadly at areas of the forest that were completely blackened, now populated only by charred, barren trunks.

It looked like death—and the fire certainly brought danger and loss. But for a ponderosa pine forest, fire can also bring life. What looks like destruction can actually be crucial to the ecosystem’s life cycle, as low-intensity fires clear out the underbrush and enrich the soil with nutrients. Other ecosystems are similar; in fact, wildfire’s intense heat is necessary to release some seeds from their resin coating and activate other seeds from their dormancy. The source of destruction can also be a catalyst for new life.

Possible Preaching Angle:

Often God must prune (John 15:2) or allow us to pass through refining fires (1 Pet. 1:6-7) in order to stimulate new growth in us. Though painful, these cleansing times are necessary as a catalyst for new life and progress in our sanctification (Rom. 8:29).

Musician and author Carolyn Arends shares a story in an issue of Christianity Today magazine:

On a recent trip, I had a conversation with a man who learned I was from Vancouver. He had lived there years earlier, and after asking if a particular music shop was still in the city, he told me a story.

His wife was a piano major at the University of British Columbia. When they went piano shopping as newlyweds, the saleswoman led them straight to the entry-level models. The man told me, “She had us pegged exactly right. We didn’t have two nickels to rub together. We were going to have to borrow the money to get the cheapest instrument there.”

Everything changed, however, when the name of the prospective buyer’s mentor—a world-renowned master teaching at the university—came up in conversation. The saleswoman was panic-stricken. “Not these pianos!” she exclaimed, herding the couple away from the economy section and into a private showroom of gleaming Steinways. “I’m so sorry,” she kept repeating, horrified at the thought of the teacher finding out she’d shown one of his students an inferior instrument. Try as they might, they couldn’t persuade her to take them back to the pianos they could afford. Once the master’s name came up, only the best would do.

I said “Hallowed be thy name” this morning mumbling my way through the Lord’s Prayer. I’ve prayed that phrase countless times. But today, I find myself thinking about the reverence a flustered piano saleswoman had for a teacher’s name, and the prayer begins to change shape.

What does it mean to “hallow” God’s name? I’ve heard about the extreme care taken in branches of Judaism: Pages containing the name of YHWH are never thoughtlessly discarded but rather buried or ritually burned. When I’ve prayed the Lord’s Prayer, I’ve tried to cultivate that kind of personal reverence for his name—even while living in a world prone to profane it.

I’m glad I was taught to avoid blasphemy. But I’m beginning to suspect that my understanding of what it means to hallow God’s name has barely scratched the surface. But if we pray as he taught us, our reverence and care for his name will grow. That’s when we’ll begin to exchange our cheap instruments of self-interest for the costly Cross of Christ—the only instrument worthy of our Master’s name.

In his recent book, Paul Tripp describes a trip to the see world’s tallest skyscraper:

Wherever you go in Dubai, you are confronted with the Burj Khalifa the world's tallest building. Impressive skyscrapers are all around Dubai, but the Burj Khalifa looms over them all with majestic glory. At 2,716 feet (just over half a mile) it dwarfs buildings that would otherwise leave you in mouth-gaping awe. As you move around Dubai, you see all of these buildings and you say to yourself again and again, "How in the world did they build that?" But the Burj Khalifa is on an entirely other scale.

Even from far away, it was hard to crank my head back far enough to see all the way to the top. The closer I got, the more imposing and amazing this structure became. As I walked, there was no thought of the other buildings in Dubai that had previously impressed me. As amazing as those build­ings were, they were simply not comparable in stunning architectural grandeur and perfection to this one.

When I finally got to the base of the Burj Khalifa, I felt incredibly small, like an ant at the base of a light pole. I entered a futuristic looking elevator and, in what seemed like seconds, was on the 125th floor. This was not the top of the building, because that was closed to visitors. As I stepped to the windows to get a feel for how high I was and to scan the city of Dubai, I immediately commented on how small the rest of the buildings looked. Those "small" buildings were skyscrapers that, in any other city, would have been the buildings that you wanted to visit. They looked small, unimpressive, and not worthy of attention, let alone awe. I had experienced the greatest, which put what had impressed me before into proper perspective.

By means of God's revelation of himself in Scripture, we see that there is no perfection like God's perfection. There is no holiness as holy as God's holiness. If you allow yourself to gaze upon his holiness, you will feel incredibly small and sinful. It is a good thing spiritually to have the assessments of your own grandeur decimated by divine glory.

In his book With, author Skye Jethani describes the mausoleum of Galla Placidia in Italy:

Fifteen hundred years ago, the emperor of Rome built a tomb for his beloved sister. The small building was designed in the shape of a cross with a vaulted ceiling covered with mosaics of swirling stars in an indigo sky. The focal point of the mosaic ceiling was a depiction of Jesus the Good Shepherd surrounded by sheep in an emerald paradise.

The mausoleum of Galla Placidia still stands in Ravenna, Italy, and has been called “the earliest and best preserved of all mosaic monuments” and one of the “most artistically perfect.” But visitors who have admired its mosaics in travel books will be disappointed when they enter the mausoleum. The structure has only tiny windows, and what light does enter is usually blocked by a mass of tourists. The “most artistically perfect” mosaic monument, the inspiring vision of the Good Shepherd in a starry paradise, is hidden behind a veil of darkness.

But the impatient who leave the chapel will miss a stunning unveiling. With no advance notice, spotlights near the ceiling are turned on when a tourist finally manages to drop a coin into the small metal box along the wall. The lights illuminate the iridescent tiles of the mosaic but only for a few seconds. One visitor described the experience: “The lights come on. For a brief moment, the briefest of moments—the eye doesn’t have time to take it all in, the eye casts about—the dull, hot darkness overhead becomes a starry sky, a dark-blue cupola with huge, shimmering stars that seem startlingly close. ‘Ahhhhh!’ comes the sound from below, and then the light goes out, and again there’s darkness, darker even than before.”

The bright burst of illumination is repeated over and over again, divided by darkness of unpredictable length. Each time the lights come on, the visitors are given another glimpse of the world behind the shadows, and their eyes capture another element previously unseen—deer drinking from springs, Jesus gently reaching out to his sheep that look lovingly at their Shepherd. After seeing the mosaic, one visitor wrote: “I have never seen anything so sublime in my life! Makes you want to cry!”

Possible Preaching Angle:

It is difficult to experience the glory of God in our daily lives and when we do, it is only for brief moments. Yet, there are time when God breaks through the darkness of this world and reveals himself for a brief moment. Like Isaiah’s experience (Isa. 6:1-5), these moments should be life changing.

In Greek mythology, ancient sailors faced many dangers at sea. One of the most unusual was that of the sirens who used their mesmerizing songs to lure sailors to their deaths on the rocky shore. Two famous Greeks were able to sail by them successfully.

One was Odysseus, who stopped up the ears of his men with wax and then had his men tie him to the ship’s mast. This way his men were safe, and he was able to hear the siren’s sweet song with relatively little harm.

The other was the legendary Orpheus who was sailing with Jason and the Argonauts. As they approached the sirens and began to hear the siren’s voices drift across the water, Orpheus took out his lyre and began to sing an even more charming melody to the men.

Orpheus, not Odysseus, represents the success we want. We can pass some tests by restricting our bodies (be tied to a mast) or limiting our access to temptation (fill our ears with wax). But in the end, the holy desires of our heart must rise and conquer. The desire to love and follow Jesus must be a sweeter song to us than the music of the world and our flesh.

In his book Start with Why, Simon Sinek discusses the importance of motivation in a very interesting section titled “It’s What You Can’t See That Matters.”

Detergent advertisers once promoted their product with statements like “Gets your whites whiter and your brights brighter.” That’s what the market research revealed customers wanted. But was it really? Sinek explains:

The data was true, but the truth of what people wanted was different. The makers of laundry detergent asked consumers WHAT they wanted from detergent, and consumers said whiter whites and brighter brights…. So brands attempted to differentiate HOW they got your whites whiter and brights brighter by trying to convince consumers that one additive was more effective than another. No one asked customers WHY they wanted their clothes clean.

Later a group of anthropologists discovered that this approach wasn’t really driving buying decisions. They observed that when people took their laundry out of the dryer, no one held it up to the light to see how white and bright it was. The first thing people did was to smell it. Sinek concludes, “This was an amazing discovery. Feeling clean was more important to people than being clean.”

Possible Preaching Angle: This same attitude extends out of the laundry room deep into the recesses of our hearts. We are much more interested in the illusion of clean than the reality of clean.

Once a man planted a garden and was delighted when shoots emerged. Every day he watered and weeded, and his garden grew until he was ecstatic to see plants bearing produce. However, a few days later, he went to his garden and was dismayed. Every plant showed evidence of hungry rodents and rabbits that had raided his crop. So he decided to erect a fence.

A few days later, the man again went to his garden and saw the same thing. So he put up another fence, another, and another. Every time he checked, he found vermin had raided the garden. Finally he realized critters could go over, through, or under each fence. So he built a brick wall with a deep concrete foundation.

Weeks later, he climbed the garden wall and was horrified to find it was choked with weeds. The ground was cracked, the plants wilted, and worst of all, his crop gone. Trusting in the wall’s protection, he had forgotten to tend the garden. He failed to realize the wall was blocking the sun’s rays. He also completely overlooked the greatest threat to his garden: the animals that had been inside all along.

How many Christian leaders trust in similar walls? Our carefully built boundaries erected to protect us from threats to our moral well-being, to our relationships, or simply to manage our time? Just relying on rigid systems won't work. They may even lead us right into the sin we’re hoping to avoid.

We already have boundaries in God’s law. God’s law is good but cannot save us. If those boundaries are not enough to transform us, why do we believe our own rules will be enough to decrease our desire to sin?

Possible Preaching Angles: Accountability; Legalism; Holy Spirit; Sanctification; Word of God – Boundaries can be of some help but they will not reform us or deal with sin. The most effective protections are walking in the power of the Holy Spirit, the daily intake of God’s Word, and open accountability with fellow Christians.

Debra Hirsch experienced a dramatic conversion to faith in Jesus after drug abuse and sex with both men and women. She now holds a Traditional view of sexuality, but has invested herself in ministry to people on the margins of the Christian faith, including those who are gay. Hirsch writes:

I am thankful that Jesus was a single man ... because in him we find the redemption of celibacy, and therefore of singleness. And as many of my dear friends (both gay and straight) are walking the celibate path, this gives them a deeper insight and appreciation of what Jesus experienced.

Stephen R. Holmes says, "To prove that sexual activity is not necessary to a well-lived life, we need to say only one word, 'Jesus.'"

In his book The Porn Problem, author Vaughan Roberts recalled the following:

Bobby Moore was the England soccer captain who received the World Cup from Queen Elizabeth when England won the trophy in 1966. An interviewer later asked him to describe how he felt. He talked about how terrified he was as he approached Her Majesty, because he noticed she was wearing white gloves, while his hand, which would soon shake the Queen’s, was covered in mud from the pitch … As the triumphant captain walks along the balcony, he keeps wiping his hand on his shorts, and then on the velvet cloth in front of the Royal box in a desperate to get himself clean.

Roberts continued, “If Bobby Moore was worried about approaching the Queen with his muddy hands, how much more horrified should we be at the prospect of approaching God? Because of our sin, we are not just dirty on the outside; our hearts are unclean. And God doesn’t just wear white gloves; he is absolutely pure, through and through.”

Many have never heard of Spruce Pine, North Carolina but this remote area is tremendously important to the rest of the world. It's the mineral found here—snowy white grains, soft as powdered sugar. It's quartz, but not just any quartz. Spruce Pine is the source of the purest natural quartz—a species of pristine sand—ever found on Earth. This ultra-pure material plays a key role in manufacturing the silicon used to make computer chips. In fact, there's an excellent chance the chip in your laptop or cell phone was made using sand from this obscure Appalachian backwater.

Making today's computer chips is a fiendishly complicated process requiring essentially pure silicon. The slightest impurity can throw their tiny systems out of whack. Finding silicon is easy. It's one of the most abundant elements on Earth. The problem is that it never occurs naturally in pure form. Separating out the silicon takes considerable doing.

The sand is blasted in a powerful electric furnace resulting in 99 percent pure silicon. But that's not nearly good enough for high-tech uses. Additional extreme processing is required because computer chips need silicon to be 99.99999999999 percent pure—eleven 9s. "We are talking about one lonely atom that is not silicon among billions of silicon companions," says geologist Michael Welland.

Possible Preaching Angles: Holiness; Purification; Sanctification- Modern tech devices require material that is of the greatest purity possible and producing it requires intense refining efforts. God also requires His unique people to be of the highest purity, to be uncontaminated by the world, and He spares no effort in our refining process.

In his book #Gospel, Daniel Rice shares the story of Pastor Matt Chandler who came home one night and found his son in the living room playing a game on his Xbox, instead of cleaning his room. After asking his son to clean his room Chandler said:

After a pause he went to clean his room and start on his other main household chore—vacuuming the house. As I left to start unloading the dishwasher, I heard him turn on the vacuum—for about forty-five seconds. Reid found me and happily reported, "I'm done."

I said, "You vacuumed the whole house?"

"Uh-huh."

"Son, Superman could not vacuum this whole house in forty-five seconds."

"I did, Dad."

So I did what a loving father would do. I grabbed his hand and said, "Let's just walk around and see." We walked around the house, and over in this corner, we found an entire bag of Goldfish crackers that looked like someone had intentionally dumped them on the floor and danced on them.

I said, "Reid, did you vacuum this?"

"I didn't see it."

"Okay, but it's on the floor. You're supposed to vacuum the floor. I don't know how you missed this."

We vacuumed. We walked around and I showed him other obvious things he failed to see. It reminded me of the line in the Gospel of John when Jesus says, "We will make our house with you" because that is what the Holy Spirit does for us. He takes us around the house of our heart and says, ''Hey, look at these crushed up Goldfish. It's going to be awesome for them to be gone. Bugs are going to get in here, and bad stuff is going to happen. There's going to be a smell in here. Let's get this cleaned up. I'm going to help you get that cleaned up. He wants to clean up places that we didn't even know were dirty. "

In his book (Re)union, Bruxy Cavey asks the question:

How much sin do you think it would be wise for God to let into heaven? What would be the acceptable level of sin for God to allow into the realm of eternal life? Should God allow 5 percent? Maybe 0.5 percent? Would 0.05 percent be okay?

The answer to that question has to be zero. When Olympic athletes are tested for performance-enhancing drugs, they fail the blood test if they have even a trace of these drugs. Their blood is either clean or not clean. The standard for passing is 0 percent of banned substances. They can't protest, "But I only have traces of the banned substances, so obviously I don't use them too much." The standard is perfection.

When someone wants to donate blood, the blood bank must ensure that the donor's blood is completely free from various things, like HIV. The person cannot protest, "But my blood is mostly HIV-free, and certainly I'm not doing as bad as some people who have full-blown AIDS, so what's the problem?" The standard has to be absolute purity, and for good reason.

The same is true for our relationship with God. God's standard for heaven must be sinless perfection, just as Adam and Eve were when they were first created. Just being a comparatively good person is not good enough. If God were to let us all into the eternal dimension with sin still a part of our spiritual makeup, we would pollute the realm of heaven, starting the whole mess of planet Earth all over again. So God bans sin from heaven. He quarantines the infection and the infected to a different realm. Hell is God's quarantine solution for people who prefer to hold on to their sin rather than accepting Christ's cleansing.

In an interview popular blogger Jen Hatmaker was asked, "Do you think an LGBT relationship can be holy?" Hatmaker replied:

I do. And my views here are tender. This is a very nuanced conversation, and it's hard to nail down in one sitting. I've seen too much pain and rejection at the intersection of the gay community and the church. Every believer that witnesses that much overwhelming sorrow should be tender enough to do some hard work here.

But former lesbian Rosaria Butterfield reproved Hatmaker for this "tenderness" that leaves people in sin. Butterfield wrote:

If this were 1999—the year that I was converted and walked away from the woman and lesbian community I loved—instead of 2016, Jen Hatmaker's words about the holiness of LGBT relationships would have flooded into my world like a balm of Gilead … [I would have thought], Yes, I can have Jesus and my girlfriend. Yes, I can flourish both in my tenured academic discipline (queer theory and English literature and culture) and in my church …

Maybe I wouldn't need to lose everything to have Jesus. Maybe the gospel wouldn't ruin me while I waited, waited, waited for the Lord to build me back up after he convicted me of my sin, and I suffered the consequences … Today, I hear Jen's words … and a thin trickle of sweat creeps down my back. If I were still in the thick of the battle over the indwelling sin of lesbian desire, Jen's words would have put a millstone around my neck.

To be clear, I was not converted out of homosexuality. I was converted out of unbelief. I didn't swap out a lifestyle. I died to a life I loved. Conversion to Christ made me face the question squarely: did my lesbianism reflect who I am (which is what I believed in 1999), or did my lesbianism distort who I am through the fall of Adam? I learned through conversion that when something feels right and good and real and necessary—but stands against God's Word—this reveals the particular way Adam's sin marks my life. Our sin natures deceive us. Sin's deception isn't just "out there"; it's also deep in the caverns of our hearts.

Paul likens us to shining stars, and the word shine means to reflect. The scientific term is albedo. It's a measurement of how much sunlight a celestial body reflects. The planet Venus, for example, has the highest albedo at .65. In other words, 65 percent of the light that hits Venus is reflected. Depending on where it's at in its orbit, the almost-a-planet Pluto has an albedo ranging from .49 to .66. Our night-light, the moon, has an albedo of .07. Only seven percent of sunlight is reflected, yet it lights our way on cloudless nights.

In a similar sense, each of us has a spiritual albedo. The goal? One hundred percent reflectivity. We, who with unveiled faces all reflect the Lord's glory, are being transformed into his likeness with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord. You cannot produce light. You can only reflect it.