Faith
24
Hebrews 11 is often called the
Hall of Faith and for good reason. It contains a plethora of worthy examples
and we do well to dwell thoughtfully there. The following chapter builds contextually
on that list of worthies. It tells us that all those worthies are currently in
Heaven watching us so we ought to live holy. Additionally, it informs us that the
way to live holy is by looking to Jesus, by focusing on Him and patterning
ourselves after Him.
Hebrews 12:1–3
Wherefore seeing we also are compassed about with so great a cloud of witnesses, let us lay aside every weight, and the sin which doth so easily beset us, and let us run with patience the race that is set before us, Looking unto Jesus the author and finisher of our faith; who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is set down at the right hand of the throne of God. For consider him that endured such contradiction of sinners against himself, lest ye be wearied and faint in your minds.
Tucked away in this passage is a
phrase, a descriptive phrase about Jesus. He is the author and finisher of our
faith. For the past eight months on this blog I have been discussing faith. I
did not originally intend the series to stretch this long, but when the pandemic
became a reality I felt the series ought to be extended. Extended it has
become. As I draw it to a close with today’s post it is only fitting that we turn
our attention to Jesus Christ. For our faith begins with Christ, and is
perfected by Christ. He alone will bring our faith to a gloriously divine
conclusion.
Our faith begins with Him. He is the
author of it. I mean this in two senses. First, in that God gives us our faith
in the first place. God hath dealt to every man the measure of faith (Romans
12.3).
Years ago, as a young boy, I can remember
my parents hauling us through the snow of a December day to the local Kmart in
Girard, Ohio. It was Christmas and we needed to buy gifts for one another. Naturally,
the only people in the store with less financial resources than my parents were
their children. Accordingly, they gave each of us $10 and a shopping cart,
accompanied by instructions to use the proceeds to purchase gifts for each of
our siblings and themselves. I can still remember the fun of that occasion – meeting
each other in the aisles, coats covering the carts, howls of insistence that someone
was peeking and injured protests of innocence. Amazingly enough, we
accomplished it and Christmas morning found us unwrapping our gifts around the
tree. At least this is how I remember it, though my mother, who regularly reads
my blog, will probably call me tomorrow to fix the particulars that I have wrongly
remembered. <grin>
How did I give my parents a gift? Using
the money they themselves had given to me. In a sense, this is precisely what
God has done with faith. He demands we place it in Him. Under the curse of sin,
we find ourselves unable to comply. So in His grace He furnishes us with the faith
He asks us to place in Him.
The second sense in which our faith begins
with Him is in the realization that our lifelong journey of living by faith
began when we placed our faith in Christ alone. A religion that does not begin
with faith in Jesus Christ is no religion. It is a fraudulent front of an empty
shell of one. Paul mentions Jesus by name sixty-seven times in the six short
chapters that make up Ephesians. By no means, is this a stretch of an
illustration. Cut the Word anywhere and it positively bleeds Jesus. It is all
built on Him.
Not only does our faith begin with Christ,
it is also perfected by Christ. He is the finisher of it. Negatively, this does
not mean we do not work at faith. Paul complimented the Thessalonian church
about its work of faith and labour of love (I Thessalonians 1.3). God is
a not a European socialist government dispensing His largesse on Christian
welfare queens. No, we must work at developing our faith. Positively, however,
it does mean that the work we undertake must be done depending upon Him to help
us to do it. We cannot accomplish anything of any value in the Christian life
without work, without effort, without toil, without striving, but each of these
are enabled through the grace of God.
Twenty-three years ago yesterday I stood
before a congregation as a pastor for the very first time. The crowd, counting
me, numbered eleven. My pulpit was a cardboard box covered with a bathroom rug.
My salary was $200 a month. My parsonage was an office off the platform four
feet wide and seven feet long. My bed was a cot. The building in which we met
had no physical address, no mailbox, and no phone lines. Our church had no
membership list, no Sunday School classes, no parking lot, and precious little money.
Our tables were saw horses with planks laid across the top. Our chairs were a
garage sale mishmash. The sound system was a boom box placed strategically
within reach so I could press play on the cassette tape while I walked the
aisle to take the offering. Our church was a church in name only, hanging on by
a thread.
Twenty-three years later so very much has
changed, both in myself and in the churches in which I have labored. I will not
bore you with enumerated details. Pride is already too much of a temptation to
me. Suffice it to say in this context that any progress that has happened in my
life and in the life and ministry of the churches committed to my care has been
as a result of Him. He is the doer of it. Yes, I have laboured along the way,
but He has done the work.
Paul expresses this balance beautifully in
Philippians 2.13-13. Wherefore, my beloved, as ye have always obeyed, not as
in my presence only, but now much more in my absence, work out your own
salvation with fear and trembling. For it is God which worketh in you
both to will and to do of his good pleasure. We work and He works. But He
is ever the only finisher.
How glad I am that He is! For when my
faith falters, as it does too often, I am reminded that He finishes what He
begins. Being confident of this very thing, that he which hath begun a good
work in you will perform it until the day of Jesus Christ (Philippians 1.6).
Just a short time ago, I stepped onto my back porch. It blazed with the humid remnants of a scorching July day. Underneath, the air conditioner strained to keep up. I walked to the edge, rested my arms on the wood that braces the screen, and wept. I did not weep for myself. I wept in fear for the spiritual direction of someone I love. And through the tears the Lord whispered to my heart, “They are my child. I love them more than you. They are mine to care for. And I will do so.” I know not when or how, but beyond a shadow of a doubt I will see them someday conformed to the image of Jesus Christ. He has promised this (Romans 8.29). He has begun this. And He always finishes what He starts.
Beloved, now are we the sons of
God, and it doth not yet appear what we shall be: but we know that, when he
shall appear, we shall be like him; for we shall see him as he is (I John 3.2).
It begins with Him. And He will make
sure it is accomplished in the end. He is the author and finisher of our faith.
Now, pardon me, while I go and shout a
while…