Showing posts with label Robinson. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Robinson. Show all posts

Monday, December 26, 2011

A Word for Preachers...Robinson on Application and the Grace of God

"Early in the sermon, therefore, listeners should realize that the pastor is talking to them about them. He reaises a question, probes a problem, identifies a need, opens up a vital issue to which the passage speaks. Application starts in the introduction not in the conclusion. Should a preacher of even limited ability deal with them from the Bible, he will be acclaimed a genius. More important than that, he will through his preaching bring the grace of God to bear on the agonizing worries and tensions of daily life."

Haddon Robinson
Biblical Preaching: The Development and Delivery of Expository Messages

Tuesday, July 27, 2010

Gilead and a Parent's Love

Another beautiful point, beautifully made from Marilynne Robinson’s Gilead (p. 136):
"...your mother could not love you more or take greater pride in you. She has watched every moment of your life, almost, and she loves you as God does, to the marrow of your bones. So that is the honoring of a child. You see how it is godlike to love the being of someone. Your existence is a delight to us. I hope you never have to long for a child as I did, but oh, what a splendid thing it has been that you came finally, and what a blessing to enjoy you now for almost seven years."
I suppose only a parent can truly understand this kind of love, or at least its depth. I thought I understood it before I had children, but I did not. Regardless, the point is that it is indeed a reflection of godlike love when, as parents, we love the very existence of our children.

This kind of love is illustrated in a conversation that I’ve had countless times with my children. It goes like this:
Me: “Do you know how much I love you?”

Child: “A million times a billion.” (Truth be told, I love them even more than that, but let’s not quibble over numbers.)

Me: “And do you know why I love you?”

Child: “Because I am your child.”

Me: “How long will you be my child?”

Child: “Forever.”

Me: “So how long will I love you?

Child: “Forever.”

Me: “What if you behave really badly and I get angry?”

Child: “Forever.”

Me: “What if you say or do really mean things to me?”

Child: “Forever.”

Me: “What if you don’t even like me any more?”

Child: “Forever.”

Me: “So how long will I love you?”

Child: “Forever.”

Me: “That’s right. No matter what, you’ll always be my child, so I will always love you. Forever.”
What I am trying to do in this conversation is twofold. Obviously, I am trying to instill in my children a confidence in the steadfastness of my love for them. They can be confident that no matter what, they will not lose the love of their father.

Secondly though, I am trying to model to them the love of God. I am setting before them a pattern of godly love so that they might know that the love of their heavenly father (like the love of their earthly father) is not conditioned upon what they do.

This is the very core of the gospel. God loves us not because we have somehow earned his love, but because, by his grace, he has adopted us in Christ Jesus to be his children. As such we can be confident in his steadfast love, because it is not on account of anything we do, but rather only and always because of what Christ has done.

Wednesday, July 21, 2010

Gilead and Guilt

One of the things I love about Marilynne Robinson’s Gilead is the artful way in which Robinson writes. In reading it I am constantly amazed at how skillfully she is able to paint pictures in my mind. What makes it even better though is the the fact that through her beautiful use of the English language she examines deep and meaningful truths. One example, from page 81:
I got up the courage to ask my father once if my grandfather had done something wrong and he said, “The Good Lord will judge what he did,” which left me believing there had been some kind of crime for sure. There is one photograph of my grandfather around the house somewhere, taken in his old age, that might help you understand why I thought this way. It is a good likeness. It shows a wild-haired, one-eyed, scrawny old fellow with a crooked beard, like a paintbrush left to dry with the lacquer on it, staring down the camera as if it had accused him of something terrible very suddenly, and he is still thinking how to reply and keeping the question at bay with the sheer ferocity of that stare. Of course there is guilt enough in the best life to account for a look like that.
True enough. But even so, especially so, what a wonderful blessing that “there is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus,” (Romans 8:1).

Thursday, July 15, 2010

Gilead and the Implications of Grace

In Marilynne Robinson's Gilead, Rev. John Ames is in failing health, approaching death. He has a young son, the product of a late-in-life marriage to a much younger woman. Realizing that there is much that he will not be present to teach his son, Rev. Ames takes up writing a letter to his son, intending it to be read when his son is closer to adulthood.

In this letter he writes about many of life’s lessons that he’s learned and recounts many of the events that have made up his life. At one point (pp. 72-73), Rev. Ames has this to say about his best friend’s son:
“I don’t know how one boy could have caused so much disappointment without ever giving any grounds for hope. Man, I should say, since he’s well into his thirties. No, he must be forty by now. He is not the eldest or the youngest or the best or the bravest, only the most beloved.”
He goes on to state,
“I have said at least once a week that there is an absolute disjunction between our Father’s love and our deserving. Still, when I see this same disjunction between human parents and children, it always irritates me a little. (I know you will be and I hope you are an excellent man and I will love you absolutely if you are not.)”
Indeed, how absolute is the disjunction between God’s love and our deserving. This is one of the hardest lessons for us to learn. Even after we’ve learned it conceptually, it is so hard to learn it functionally. The Bible is absolutely clear that we can do nothing to merit God’s love. Our sinful condition leaves us deserving nothing but his wrath. And yet he has loved us still! Christ’s perfect obedience has earned the Father’s love and favor for us, and his death on the cross has atoned for our sin, absorbing the punishment we deserved.

Especially in light of this grace, it is amazing how quick we are to apply standards to others that we have no intention of applying to ourselves. Rev. Ames readily acknowledges that he will love his son absolutely regardless of his deserving, when only a sentence earlier he had stated how much that irritates him in others. If we were to, in humility count others more significant than ourselves (Philippians 2:19) and to love our neighbor as ourselves (Leviticus 19:18), it would radically change the amount of grace we are willing to afford others.

How easily we disconnect the gospel from its natural implications. If we truly understand how little we deserve and deeply know the grace that God has shown us, then that will transform the way we look at others. Indeed, I need to love others better. But that is not the sickness; it is only a symptom. What I really need to do is know the love of God better, for if I do, I will be compelled to love others better. We love because he first loved us. (1 John 4:19).

Wednesday, July 14, 2010

Want to Read a Good Novel?

Although it is my policy to write a review on each book I read, I very rarely write much about a book before I’ve finished it. In this post, I am going to make an exception. I am in the midst of reading Gilead by Marilynne Robinson and have decided to eschew my normal practice for the following reasons:

First of all, there is the distinct possibility that I might never finish it. You see, I read EXTREMELY slowly. Much to my current dismay, I did not read a lot during my high school and college days. I got good grades, but did so while putting forth a minimum amount of effort. I regret this today (pay attention kids) not only because of its contribution to my s…l…o…w reading, but also for the untold things I could have learned but didn’t.

About a decade after completing college I went to seminary and developed a love for reading. The problem is, the way you read theology books is vastly different from the way you read works of fiction. Unless you’re me, that is. You see, I am physically unable to read a book without a pencil or highlighter in my hand. Whenever I come across an interesting point or a well-written phrase, I have a compulsion to mark it so that I might be able to go back and find it. While this is a great way to study books, it is not a great way to breeze through them quickly.

On top of these facts, I am quintessentially American with my short attention span and “gotta have it now” mindset. I just can’t get my mind around the idea of reading the book when I could just watch the movie. Now I know, some of you (my wife included) are screaming at me through your computer screen about how much better books are than movies because of how they engage your imagination, etc. I’m right there with you…theoretically. I love a well-told story and books are a far better medium for developing a story than film.

If I were like my wife (she can get a book from the library on Friday and return it on Monday having read, digested, and told me about it in elaborate detail), then I’m sure I’d much rather read the book than watch the movie. But I just can’t do that. It takes me a long time to read a book. Take Gilead for instance. It is a book that I am thoroughly enjoying roughly 150 pages in. I started it in March. Or was it February? Either way, you get my point.

The other reason I thought I would write this introductory post on Gilead is that I would love to share with you some of the profound passages that ae so beautifully written. If I do this while I'm reading the book, I don't have to go back and search through the places I’ve highlighted!

Robinson is a wonderful author, having elicited such compliments as being called “the world’s best writer of prose.” Last March, John Piper shared his love for Gilead in a blog post, and Justin Taylor has compiled a nice overview of Robinson’s work, including a number of interviews. In the following weeks (months?) I will be posting snippets from this fabulous Pulitzer Prize winning novel. Be looking for them so that you too might be blessed by the beauty and wisdom found within its pages.