Is It Just for An Innocent Person to Pay for the Sins of the Guilty?

Mike Leake 1 Comment

Is it just to allow an innocent person to pay for the crime of a guilty person? Let’s try that out in story form.

A wretched woman stands trial for murdering a husband and wife. The jury finds the woman guilty of all the heinous crimes she is accused of. It is now the day when sentencing will be handed down. The prosecuting attorney was going for the death penalty. The judge agrees that someone deserves to die for these crimes. But everyone in the court is shocked when instead of passing sentence on the guilty murderer the punishment is handed over to an innocent son of the victims.

Hopefully if you were in the courtroom you’d cry out against this miscarriage of justice. An innocent party should not be punished for the guilty actions of another. But what if we added a bit to the story? What if the innocent son of the victim offered to take the punishment upon himself? What if he volunteered for the job?

Such a story would be noble—and it’s the thing of many sermon illustrations—but is it really just? According to Scripture (Proverbs 17:15), “acquitting the guilty and condemning the innocent—the LORD detests them both.” No judge in the land would allow for such a thing—especially in a murder trial where the death penalty is in play.

So how in the world can we say that it is not injustice for God to accept such a deal in the death of His Son? If we did the crime, why don’t we have to do the time? To say that God poured out His wrath on His innocent Son, who willingly took the place of sinners, is a bit much for some to swallow. No matter if he volunteered or not, it is unjust to punish a righteous man for the guilt of unrighteous people.

But what if we added something else to our story. What if I said that the innocent son was actually the husband of the murderer. Now, I understand that at face value this does absolutely nothing for our argument. Why should an innocent spouse pay for the crimes of a guilty husband? But such a thing is to misunderstand a fundamental principle of our union with another.

It’s not as difficult of a thing to grasp if we are talking about finances instead of the death penalty. It’s not considered unjust to transfer debt to a husband once he marries a spouse. The justice system have no problem making a willing husband financially responsible for his wife’s student loans. In this regard they consider the two as one.

Now I understand that when we start talking about death penalty instead of student loans it gets a bit trickier. I suppose this is where the analogy might break down a tad. But biblically speaking we are united to Christ in such a way that he actually becomes responsible for our debt. This in part is what 2 Corinthians 5:21 is talking about. When Christ took the church as His bride he took upon Himself her debt.

How can God the Father punish His innocent Son for the sins of an unrighteous people? Because by His willingness to marry this unrighteous bride he was “made to be sin”. Though not guilty of any sin of His own, by His union with a sinful bride, in a very real sense He is no longer the innocent Son.

The man upon the Cross is bearing the punishment of His beloved bride. That is the only way that He could be among the cursed hanging upon that tree (Galatians 3:10-14). Any other reason would be a gross mishandling of justice. I appreciate this point in Pierced For Our Transgressions:

The only way to explain how Christ could have died at all without compromising God’s justice is to say that our sin and guilt was imputed to him. Although Christ was sinless in himself (he bore no guilt for his own deeds), he nonetheless did bear the guilt of our sins. It is ironic that criticism of penal substitution, which claims to be concerned to uphold God’s justice, actually ends up undermining it. (Pierced For Our Transgressions, 248)

Take heart, he has paid our debt in full. This is why he cried tetelestai from the Cross. Through our union with Him and His perfect work, we are debt free and living in His positive righteousness, all by the Father’s good plan and good pleasure. This is great news!

—

Photo source: here

Read This! 04.18.17

Mike Leake

When to Stop Chasing Your Dream

This wouldn’t fly very well on TBN but I think it’s wise and biblical.

Lies at the Heart of Addiction

It’s helpful to know what lies the addicted person might be believing.

Some Errors Avoided by a Right Doctrine of Sanctification

I tried point out some of these in the sermon on Sunday.

7 Things Pastors Wish Their Congregations Knew

Yep.

Benjamin Franklin’s Misplaced Hope of Resurrection

The history nerd in me loves this, the pastor in me mourns this.

Pandering to Millennials?

Amen!

4 Ways Satan Uses Christian Generosity for Evil

It’s a bit of a strong title but I think it’s important to consider.

The Intrusive Neighbor

This is convicting and difficult for me.

What Do You Do When You’re In the Pit?

Helpful suggestions.

Ever wonder why Bibles are printed with the text in two columns?

We Need More Leaders Like…

Mike Leake 1 Comment

“We need more leaders like (insert name of celebrity preacher).”

I’ve inserted my share of people into that little blank, and almost every time it was wrong.

Now don’t misunderstand, the people I’ve put in there might be great leaders. I’m sure some of my heroes of the faith make splendid leaders. The silly thing about my statement, though, is that biblically speaking I’ve no right to say they make great leaders.

Did you realize that almost every single one of the qualifications of an elder can only be known by actually rubbing shoulders with that person? I can write about hospitality, tell everybody of their need to be hospitable, wax eloquent about the relationship between the gospel and then shut the door of my home to everybody except a few folks I can reasonably tolerate. And you wouldn’t know the difference. You’d assume that just because I wrote a riveting and encouraging and profoundly true article about hospitality that I must be living it in my own life.

You can pick about any of those graces in 1 Timothy 3 or Titus 1 and tell a similar story. You don’t have any right to say “we need more leaders like person X” until you’ve actually sat under the leadership of person X and watched him follow Jesus—not just write or preach about following Jesus.

Yet here we are in our local churches dreaming about what it’d be like if our pastor or leaders were a bit more like celebrity preacher X. I’ve heard more than a few points made from 1 Peter 5:2 that we are called to shepherd the flock of God that we have been given. Preachers aren’t being faithful when they daydream about a different flock. They’ll end up with miserable and bitter hearts and probably dead sheep.

We leaders need to hear 1 Peter 5:2, but I have to wonder if we also need to emphasize 1 Peter 5:5. There is a call here to be faithful sheep to the shepherd God has placed among you. I don’t think it is an accident that Peter especially admonishes the younger to be “subject to the elders”. It is when we are new to walking with Christ that we are more prone to being starry-eyed dreamers. At these early stages we dream big dreams (may this never die) and often follow leaders who give voice to our passions. If that isn’t your local church pastor, that could lead to difficulty.

Here is something one of my spiritual heroes has said:

If your goal is to love all Christians, let me suggest working toward it by first committing to a concrete group of real Christians with all their foibles and follies. Commit to them through thick and thin for eighty years. Then come back and we’ll talk about your progress in loving all Christians everywhere. (Dever, 29)

The same is true of your local church pastor. It’s not that we can’t learn from what other leaders are writing, nor that we should be unhelpfully skeptical of leaders we haven’t met, but we should do our best to celebrate and learn from the leadership of the local church pastor God has placed among us. And let’s not hold them to a standard set by a leader we’ve never actually met.

—

Photo source: here

What To Do With Your Unbiblical Expectations

Mike Leake

erwan-hesry-166245

“You shall not plow with an ox and a donkey together” –Dt. 22:10

When I’m being an idiot that verse feels like pastoral ministry.

The reason you don’t plow with an ox and a donkey is because it’s terribly cruel to the ox. Not only will he be pulling the whole plow but he’s likely going to be dragging the obstinate donkey along too. And so in my weaker moments, I try to convince myself that I’m the powerful ox trying to pull along people to get in line with God’s agenda. After all isn’t that what spiritual leadership is? Moving people on to God’s agenda.

It’s frustrating carrying such a heavy burden. “It should be lighter”, I tell myself. It’d be so much easier if it wasn’t for this donkey or that donkey. But here I am expected to do what Scripture says is wrong—shackling an ox up with a donkey and making the ox do all the work.

But that’s dumb. Because I’m not the oxen. I never am. I’m the donkey. And Jesus is pulling my donkey butt every step of the way.

—

I’m really trying to learn the lesson of Matthew 11:28-30 and what it means to take up the yoke of Christ. Because I’m feeling 2 Corinthians 11:28 in every fiber of my bones. And it’s wearing me down. My head and heart are heavier than they’ve ever been in my life. Pastoral ministry is becoming quite the furnace of affliction. So I’m thinking a good deal about burdens that I’m carrying.

“Moving people on to God’s agenda” feels to me like lugging 30 suitcases filled with bowling balls across a mile of that really sticky mud that likes to eat your shoes. I suppose this is what Jesus means in Matthew 11:28 when he talks about labor and heavy burdens. You are working your tail off (labor) and people keep adding more to your suitcase. “Here, carry this, Pastor”.

Those suitcases are filled with expectations and anxieties.

Sometimes silly things like, “Gee, should I have said donkey butt earlier? Is that going to offend somebody? It probably will. Maybe I should change it to “rear”—but that doesn’t make the sentence work as well. It needs to be “butt”, so I’ll leave it…but I’m likely to hear about it”. The more I speak the more I open up the chance of saying something dumb.

Or being the guy who feels like he is supposed to keep everybody at peace. Sometimes a pastor feels like a kid trying to keep mom and dad from getting a divorce. Only you magnify that by hundreds of people. There is a burden to trying to help hundreds of people live at peace with one another.

Or thinking that you have to be everywhere for everyone and always know what to say and when to say it. Every sermon needs to be a homerun or folks are going to leave. The music has to be engaging…not too hip so that people don’t feel like we are selling out, but also not so traditional that the young people leave. I’m not even the music pastor—but I feel responsible for this. And even though I’m not in charge of hearts, somehow I’m responsible for growth or lack of growth. That’s on me.

One of the pieces of luggage is the expectation that you’ll always make the right decision. Every time you make a good one you “gain equity”. Every time you make a wrong decision—or even a different decision that people aren’t accustomed to—you lose a bit of equity. Pastoral ministry is all about making sure you have enough relational equity in your account to lead the church through change.

Other times those suitcases are filled with legit burdens and anxieties and things that are really painful. Somebody is dying of cancer and I need to help them through this. A marriage is crumbling and I need to offer biblical counsel. These always weigh less to me. They are hard, but they weigh differently. Seems like I’m given the grace to navigate these. It’s the other ones that have you feeling like you are heavy-burdened.

So what does it look like for me to come to Jesus and give him these burdens?

I’ve got these thirty suitcases jam-packed full of stuff, sweat coming down my brow, red flushing through my face, and I come to the feet of Jesus with them, now what? It’s not that every thing in these suitcases is silly, legalistic, and something I shouldn’t be carrying. The problem is that those real biblical responsibilities are all loaded down with these things on the periphery.

The first thing I’m told by Jesus in Matthew 11:28-30 is “come to me…and take my yoke upon you.” But before I take upon the yoke of Jesus I have to lay down all my others. This isn’t a call to add another suitcase. It’s a call to give him every single one of these suitcases—whether truly biblical or not.

What I picture in my mind is me giving my over-stuffed suitcase to Christ and him sifting through all the junk, reorienting my heart to correspond to what His yoke really is, and then handing them back to me much lighter. It’s not a perfect analogy because it’s missing the reality of His power fueling my obedience. But it’s a good reminder that part of the reason I feel like I don’t have the grace to handle all these suitcases is because I don’t. He gives me grace to obey His Word and to be the pastor He calls me to be—but He doesn’t give me the grace to carry a yoke that isn’t His. Some sweat is sinful.

Trying to meet unbiblical expectations is always going to wear you out. Because the Spirit doesn’t give strength for disobedience. He isn’t going to help perpetuate a myth of Super Pastor.

I’m exchanging a suitcase that says, “Who have I made mad today?” for one that says “How can I please the Father today?” One is an impossible burden to bear. The other, because of the Son’s obedience, is easy and light. I still have pastoral burdens but now I have His strength to obey the Father’s call. And a rested heart which has dropped all that overstuffed luggage at the Savior’s feet. And now this feels less like burdens. It’s a joy to serve.