Job 42 concludes the book.  It begins with Job’s reply to God.  He acknowledges that in questioning God, his mouth was outrunning his understanding.  From now on, he will be content to listen to God, and he repents of questioning Him.

In response, God accuses Eliphaz, Bildad, and Zophar of not speaking the truth as Job has done.  He tells them to make a burnt offering and get Job to intercede for them, which Job successfully does.  After he does so, God blesses Job, giving him twice as much as he had had before and 10 more children to replace the ones who had died.  At the end of the book, Job dies in honored old age.

Psalm 117 is the shortest psalm in Psalms, as well as being the shortest chapter in the Bible.  It urges everyone to praise God because of His steadfast love (the Hebrew word hesed, which is untranslatable but means something like, “God continuing to love us because He promised He would) and faithfulness.    

Psalm 118 is a processional psalm with significant Messianic overtones.  It begins with different Israelite groups (probably arranged by group) being called upon to praise God.  The primary singer of the psalm then declares that God has rescued him from his enemies, so he will never be afraid of anyone as long as God is with him.  His enemies pressed him hard, but he defeated them.  Likely, different groups are singing the content of 118:15-16.  The primary again affirms that God has protected him, and then has a discussion in song with the people who are supposed to open the gate for him (vs. 19 and 21 are the primary singer; vs. 20 and 22-27 are the chorus).  The psalm concludes with both singer and chorus praising God. 

Several verses from this psalm are quoted in the New Testament.  118:22 is quoted widely by Jesus and others, and the crowds are singing 118:26 during the triumphal entry.  They may, in fact, have sung all of 118:22-27 as Jesus was going through the gates of Jerusalem.

Psalm 119:1-32 is the opening of the longest psalm in the book and longest chapter in the Bible.  This section, and indeed the entire psalm, exalts the word of God.  The content of the psalm is organized acrostically (each line in the first eight verses begins with the first letter of the Hebrew alphabet; each line in the second eight verses begins with the second letter of the Hebrew alphabet, and so on), so the content can be repetitive. 

The first section highlights the importance of seeking God’s law wholeheartedly.  The second points out the significance of the word to the young.  The third asks for God’s blessing because the psalmist has been devoted to the word.  The fourth promises renewed attention to the word if God will rescue the psalmist.

During our monthly singing last Sunday evening, we sang Charli Couchman’s “The Lord Is My Light”.  I love the hymn.  I think it’s one of Charli’s best, and indeed one of the best hymns written by brethren in the 20^th century. 

“The Lord Is My Light” is based on Psalm 27, and as psalm paraphrases tend to, it has excellent content.  My favorite line appears in the second verse.  It reads, “I will not despair; Your goodness sustains me.”  Charli took it from the NASB ’77 reading of Psalm 27:13.

The path from David’s original in v. 13 to “The Lord Is My Light” is an interesting one.  Apparently, there is a divergence in manuscripts.  Some of them read as reflected in the ESV, “I believe that I shall look on the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living.” 

The other reading (followed by the NASB, the NKJV, and older translations, says something like, “Oh!  Had I not believed that I shall. . .”  In other words, if I had not believed that I would see God’s goodness, it would have been bad.  The original NASB tried to capture this thought by saying, “I would have despaired unless I had believed that I would see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living.” 

That’s a neat idea, but its expression is about as elegant as a snoring teenager (par for the course for the NASB, alas!).  Charli had a meter to fit, as hymnists always do, so she compacted the concept to the form it takes in “The Lord Is My Light”.

However, as is often the case with paraphrase, something was both lost and gained.  The NASB rendering is retrospective.  It looks back on trial and says, “I wouldn’t have gotten through that, except for my faith in God.” 

Charli’s version is more daring.  Much more.  It is prospective.  It looks to the future and defiantly proclaims that it will not lose heart.  I will not despair, no matter what!

That’s the spiritual equivalent of signing a blank check and giving it to somebody else.  It is a promise to continue steadfastly, regardless of how many zeroes of trial life may fill in.  Bring it on, time and chance!  Bring it on, devil!  I still won’t despair.

In isolation, such a promise is brash, almost foolhardy.  Aren’t you aware of all the disasters that can happen to a human being in this fallen world?  Who knows what horrible things your future may hold?

“The Lord Is My Light”, though does not focus on all the unknowns.  It focuses on the one known.  It focuses on the certainty that God will be faithful to perform what He has promised.  His goodness need not even appear now to sustain us.  As long as we remain convinced that it will appear, that hope is sufficient to reassure us.

I sing all of “The Lord Is My Light” with great joy, but I especially love to sing that promise.  I will not despair.  Not ever.  I don’t care if Satan and all his angels hear it.  Indeed, I hope they do!   However, my boast is not in my own strength of character.  It is entirely in the sustaining goodness of God.

As I continue to make my way down my ever-growing list of sermon requests, the next is for a sermon on authority, especially about the way that the church is authorized by the New Testament to use its money.  In summary, what we see in the Scriptures is that the first-century church spent money on a limited number of works:  evangelizing the lost, edifying the saved, and providing for needy saints.  Many other works that seem good to us, like helping the world’s poor or providing a space for Christians to eat together, do not appear in the word as works of the church.

Many brethren find this analysis unsatisfying.  On the one hand, they see all the good that the church might do, and on the other, they see the arguments against the church doing those things as legalistic quibbling.  I respect those brethren, and I get where they’re coming from, but I think there’s something they’re missing.  Once we depart from the first-century pattern, we start losing touch with the first-century church, not only in those departures, but because of the ripple effects of those departures.  We can’t change things up according to our wisdom without losing something vital in the process.  This morning, then, let’s consider authority and consequences..

The first problem that comes from adopting human institutions is that IT WILL LIMIT THE SPIRITUAL GROWTH OF BRETHREN.  By way of illustration, let’s look at the words of the Israelites in 1 Samuel 8:19-20.  The Israelites have a problem.  They are idolatrous and wicked, so God keeps sending the nations around them to conquer them and oppress them.  The Israelites could fix this problem by choosing to become righteous, but they don’t do that.  Instead, they look to their neighbors for inspiration and demand a king.  The king will fight their battles for them.  He will protect them so that they will be safe without having to become righteous!  What a great idea!

Of course, things do not work out the way the Israelites expect.  Because they do not repent, God continues to punish them, and eventually, they are carried into exile along with their king.  The worldly solution does not fix the spiritual problem.

There’s a very real sense in which, when we turn to institutions for solutions, we are doing the same thing.  We see a spiritual problem:  for instance, we think the Christians here don’t spend enough time showing hospitality to one another.  Our hearts are not open to our brethren.  Like the Israelites, we consult our neighbors for guidance, and we decide to build a fellowship hall like the churches around us.  We think that will fix things.

Sadly, though, the fellowship hall isn’t solving the right problem, just like the king wasn’t solving the right problem.  The king didn’t fix the hearts of the Israelites, and a fellowship hall won’t fix the hearts of Christians who don’t want to be hospitable.  You’ve got an apparent solution, but it isn’t the solution that Christ wants to see in us, and indeed, it will discourage us from becoming more like him.

Second, bringing in those human institutions will HINDER THE WORK OF THE CHURCH.  To summarize that work, let’s look at 1 Timothy 3:14-15.  Here, Paul tells us that the church is supposed to be the pillar and support of the truth.  That priority is reflected in the way this congregation spends its money.  Pretty much, that spending is divided into three main categories:  spending on the building, so we have a place to assemble, teach and learn; spending on local evangelists, Clay and me; and spending on foreign evangelists, men like Ronald Roark, who is baptizing people by the dozens off in Africa.  All of it is connected to the truth.

Now, though, we introduce that fellowship hall.  I doubt you could get one built for less than seven figures, so we’d have to take out a mortgage to do it and then service the debt.  You’ve got to furnish the thing, you’ve got to buy food, and you’ve got to pay for the extra insurance.  For some reason, church buildings with kitchens burn down more frequently than church buildings without!

All that takes money, and now you have to make your budget balance.  In practice, let me tell you how it’s going to go.  All the money for building upkeep will continue to be spent.  The local evangelists will continue to be supported.  However, men like Ronald Roark are going to get letters from us telling them that we can’t afford to support them anymore.  Maybe souls in Africa will continue to be saved, but we won’t have anything to do with it.  Is that the bargain that we want to strike, brethren—more convenience for us at the cost of denying others the opportunity to hear the gospel? 

In theory, I suppose we could increase our contributions so that we can afford both Ronald Roark and the fellowship hall, but if we could give that much, why aren’t we giving it now?  The elders turn aside men every month who are asking us to support them.  If we had a larger contribution, we could do that.  However we wriggle, we can’t escape the conclusion that a fellowship hall means less support of foreign evangelism.  I don’t think that’s something any of us want to accept.

Finally, human institutions tend to MAKE THE CHURCH ABOUT MONEY.  Let’s look at the Biblical pattern here in 1 Corinthians 16:1-2.  Have you ever noticed, brethren, how the giving of the church is adequate to sustain the work of the church?  As long as a congregation limits itself to the Biblical pattern, unless something has gone badly wrong, the church will be able to support itself. 

However, as we observed above, all the human institutions that we might come up with, from fellowship halls to church colleges, come with a price tag.  The more you have, the pricier it gets, and the less able you are to support them on the freewill offerings of the saints.  It’s like putting a Prius engine in a semi body.  There’s just not enough power to get the job done.

That’s why churches start departing from the pattern on giving too.  I guarantee you that every church that preaches tithing does it because they have human institutions to support.  The same holds true for bake sales, yard sales, and bingo nights.  Those churches start grasping for income because they have to.

Let me tell you about where all that ends up.  Back when I was a starving young preacher trainee, Lauren did temp admin work so we could have things like health insurance.  During that time, she spent a couple of months working for the Diocese of Beaumont.  While there, she learned that the only thing, literally the only thing, you have to do to remain a Catholic in good standing is to fill out your yearly pledge card and send it in.  You don’t ever have to show up.  Give them money, and they’re good with you.

That sounds pretty bad, doesn’t it?  Well, guess how the Catholic Church ended up there?  It’s because of all the institutions they have to support.  We might argue, I suppose, about how far we could safely travel down that road.  For myself, I’d rather not even start down it.

Job 37 is the conclusion of Elihu’s speech.  If you’ll recall, Elihu is the whippersnapper who was so provoked by the ignorance of Job and his three friends that he had to say something.  He begins here by inviting Job to consider the majesty of God as revealed by thunderstorms.  He creates lightning, thunder, snow, rain, cold, and ice.  The storm goes wherever He wants it to.  He asks Job whether Job is God’s equal in understanding and power.  Does he know how God makes thunderstorms?  Can he himself make a drought?  God is incomprehensible, so wise men learn to fear Him.

Job 38 is the beginning of God’s discourse.  Unsurprisingly, He gets the last word in the book!  He opens by inviting Job to prove his fitness to question Him.  He asks Job if he was around when God created the earth, or restrained the seas, or separated day from night.  Has Job traveled in the depths of the ocean, followed light to its source, or seen how various forms of precipitation are created?  Can Job guide the stars, control the weather, or provide for the animals of the world?

Job 39 continues in similar vein.  Does Job understand the lives of the mountain goats?  Does he know everything about wild donkeys?  Can he tame wild oxen?  Does he understand God’s purpose in the folly of the ostrich?  Does he strengthen the horse?  Does he guide the flight of the hawk?

Job 40 contains God’s summation.  He invites Job to accuse Him if Job can understand all of those things.  Not surprisingly, Job declines the invitation, acknowledging that he isn’t fit to question God.  Nonetheless, God continues to point out Job’s limitations.  He asks if Job is able to rule mankind as God does.  He describes Behemoth (some large beast whose identity we can speculate about but not determine) and asks if Job can control him. 

Job 41 continues God’s exploration of Job’s deficiencies.  The entire chapter concerns Leviathan, another unidentified creature.  God asks Job if he (or any man) is able to tame Leviathan, and if he isn’t, then how can he presume to question God?  The rest of the chapter describes Leviathan’s attributes in poetic terms:  his armor, his fiery breath, his strength, his invulnerability in battle, and his speed. 

Yesterday’s discussion about family withdrawal was notable both for its length and its civility.  It certainly made me think a lot about what I had written, and eventually I realized that the back-and-forth was about one underlying theme:  the tension between holiness and reconciliation.  In our dealings with those who have fallen from grace, should we be more concerned about restoring them or protecting ourselves from temptation?

If we wanted to, we could create a long list of Scriptures arguing both sides of the point.  Paul’s incredulous question in 1 Corinthians 5:6, “Do you not know that a little leaven leavens the whole lump?”, appeals to the Corinthians to consider their own holiness.  On the other side, Jesus’ declaration in Luke 5:32, “I have not come to call the righteous but sinners to repentance,” certainly affirms His desire to reconcile.

What are we to make of this?  Is Jesus’ example not one we are to follow?  Is Paul instructing the Corinthians to be un-Jesus-like (not that they needed much help with that)?

I think the answer has to do with the spiritual condition of both Jesus and the Corinthians.  In our interactions with anybody, our first concern has to be our own holiness.  Worldly people are dangerous; lapsed Christians are even more dangerous.  They are on a downward spiritual trajectory, they have a pre-existing relationship with us, and if their sin is not identified, they potentially can corrupt an entire church.

In our dealings with such people, we shouldn’t try to pull them out of the water if they are going to pull us out of the boat instead.  This, of course, was the Corinthians’ problem.  Instead of condemning sin, they were celebrating it!  As a result, Paul counsels them to protect what little holiness they have left by cutting off contact with the sinner.

Jesus’ conduct was very different because His spiritual condition was very different.  Rather than shunning covenant-breaking Jews, He sought out the worst covenant-breakers he could.  He ate and drank with prostitutes and tax collectors. 

However, this doesn’t reflect foolishness on the part of our Lord.  It reflects righteousness and love.  He knew that those wicked people wouldn’t drag Him down.  Instead, He would lift them up.  Because His holiness was secure, He could afford to seek reconciliation.

As we make decisions about how we should approach erring brethren, especially erring family members, we must ask ourselves whether our spiritual condition is closer to Corinth or to Christ.  This is not an easy question!  It is often true that those who are closest to the fallen-away are on spiritually shaky ground themselves.  If we lie to ourselves about our own strength and minimize the danger, they will drag us down too.  Let him who thinks he stands take heed lest he fall, indeed! 

On the other hand, it may be that we have the spiritual maturity we need to follow the example of Jesus.  Again, never should we reach this conclusion lightly!  Otherwise, like Peter, we may be out of the boat before we figure out we don’t have what it takes.

However, if our faith is strong enough, we may have opportunity to engage in that most praiseworthy of Biblical pursuits:  turning back the sinner from the error of his way.  Maybe cutting off all social interaction is the best way to accomplish this (and if our holiness is not what it should be, it’s the only tool we have); maybe continued contact and loving admonition is.  I’m not here to judge anybody else’s judgment calls.  I am certain, though, that we must keep the goal in mind and seek it as best we know how.

Truly, blessed are the peacemakers, but so too are those who suffer loss while they themselves are saved.  Let us seek the first, if possible, but let us never forget the second, always bearing in mind the wisdom of Galatians 6:1:  “Brothers, if anyone is caught in any transgression, you who are spiritual should restore him in a spirit of gentleness.  Keep watch on yourself, lest you too be tempted.”