Quenching the Spirit

In 1 Thessalonians 5:19 the Lord gives us a command through his inspired apostle that I have often found fascinating. In most translations the verse reads, “Do not quench the Spirit.” In our NIV it reads more colorfully, “Do not put out the Spirit’s fire.” I find this verse fascinating not simply because of what it commands but also because of what it implies.

We understand that this New Covenant age is the age of the Spirit’s abundant work. The Spirit of God has come to “indwell” God’s people in full measure, and he works in us in many different ways. He is “the Spirit of sonship” in that he ministers to us a confident sense of God’s fatherly love to us and an assurance that we belong to him as his children. He gifts us for service. He “leads” us into practical godliness and cultivates in us “the fruit of the Spirit” — those virtues of Christlikeness that God requires of us. And of course it was the Holy Spirit who brought us to faith at the very outset of our Christian experience. In all this the Spirit of God works sovereignly and powerfully. We would be nothing without him. We would not grow in grace, we would not serve God, we would have no assurance, and we would not even trust in Christ in the first place. What a blessed and vital role he serves in our salvation!

Yet God tells us that we should not “quench” him. We should not “put out his fire,” as it were. The plain implication is that by our sin we may stifle the Spirit’s effectiveness in us. We may by our sin hinder the work which he has come to do in us and for us.

In regeneration God acts sovereignly, and he acts alone. He works within us to bring us to life and to faith in Christ. We believe, but only in response to his initial and powerful work in us. We call this “irresistible grace,” simply because God’s calling proves irresistible in bringing about our willing conversion. In John 3, in his discussion with Nicodemus, Jesus spoke just this way — the Spirit is like the wind that blows effectually wherever he wants!

But in the process of growth in grace, a certain cooperation is required on our part. Everywhere in the New Testament we are called to “yield” ourselves to God, to submit to his leading and promptings to godliness. “Walk in the Spirit,” we are commanded. “Be filled with the Spirit.” We must work with Him in the cultivation of godliness, and only as we do will we know the fullness of his blessing. “Trust and obey,” we sing, “for there’s no other way to be happy in Jesus.” We must trust and obey. And if we do not, God’s Spirit may be quenched and his effectiveness stifled.

Still further, the apostle Paul in this passage (1 Thess. 5: 11ff) is speaking to the church corporately, and there is just the hint that his warning is not to be understood merely on an individual level. His caution to the church is that by their sin — in context: by their thanklessness, their prayerlessness, their lack of appreciation for those who lead them, their lack of concern for the public ministry of the Word of God, and so on — they may quench the Spirit’s work among them.  What otherwise might have been accomplished among them has been shut out by their sin.

This, then, is just one of those passages that warns us of the effects of our sin. Our sin carries with it consequences both for us and for those around us. Like Achan in the book of Joshua, whose sin halted the progress of Israel’s army and brought the death of many, our sin can drastically hinder the Spirit’s work among us and hold back the blessing we might otherwise realize.

For God’s sake, for our own sake’s, for the sake of one another, and for the sake of our corporate advance of the gospel, let us be careful to walk in the Spirit and see to it that His work among us will not be hindered.

Who is Jesus?

In Matthew chapter 16 Jesus asked his disciples, “Who do people say that I am?” The disciples replied, “Some say John the Baptist; others say Elijah; and still others, Jeremiah or one of the prophets.” “But who do you say I am?” Jesus asked. And so Peter answered, “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.” Jesus replied, “Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah, for this was not revealed to you by man, but by my Father in heaven.”

I am sure that when people of Jesus’ day said that they thought he was John the Baptist or Elijah or Jeremiah, they meant to be generous and complimentary. After all, it was an honorable thing to be numbered among the great prophets! Jesus Himself said that John the Baptist was the greatest of the prophets. To be identified with them would be an honor indeed.

Not surprisingly, then, when we ask people today the same question — “Who is Jesus?” — similar answers are often given. Some may say he was a prophet like the other prophets, with some differences perhaps. They may say he was a great teacher. Or they may place him in a respectable category of religious leaders such a Mohammed, Budah, Confucious. We often hear that he was a man like other men — a man with superior qualities in significant areas, of course, but in the final analysis, a man on the level of other men.

What is significant is that these answers, as respectful as they may have seemed, did not satisfy our Lord. Not until Peter acknowledged Jesus as the Divine Messiah was the question answered well enough. “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God!”

 In his comments on this passage Matthew Henry observes, simply, that it is entirely possible to have an honorable opinion of the Lord Jesus which is nonetheless wrong. An honorable opinion that is not honorable enough. Not until, like Peter, we acknowledge Jesus’ uniqueness and recognize Him as the Lord from Heaven do we give Him the honor and reverence that is due Him.

Did Jesus Die because of Joy or Indifference? Part 3

Since neither the context of Hebrews 12:2, nor the rest of the NT portrays ideal love as dispassionate duty, as Kenneth Wuest supposes, the question begs to be asked, where did we get this idea? Significant theological and philosophical objections also can be raised against this view.

In response to Wuest’s second point, that there is a necessary connection between selflessness and a refusal to benefit in any way from a loving act, we must reject this as the case. First, as mentioned above, ekenosen in Philippians 2:7 by no means entails that Christ emptied himself of anything, much less of self. Christ’s “self” is not in conflict with his love and supremacy, such that it needs to be laid aside. However, granting Wuest’s understanding of Christ emptying himself of self, there is still no logical entailment between selflessness and refusing to benefit in any way from the cross. It is entirely possible to act selflessly and still receive joy from one’s act (1 Thess. 3:9). More on this later.

Wuest seems to adopt the idea of duty that was articulated most clearly by Immanuel Kant, an 18^th century German philosopher. Kant believed that for an act to be truly virtuous, it should be done with no consideration for the benefit the individual may receive by performing the act. The purest act would be that in which no benefit could accrue to the performer of the act. If the individual received any benefit whatsoever, said Kant, the act would be of no moral value and meaningless.

Kant’s morals were consistent with his philosophy, which divided knowledge between the phenomenal (that which can be empirically observed), and the noumenal (that which is known apart from the senses, such as God, the soul, and the thing in itself). We can believe the noumenal, said Kant, but we can only know the phenomenal. Therefore, in judging an individual’s act, the motive is inaccessible to the senses, and therefore all that counts is the act itself. The nobility of an act of love or duty is intrinsic in the act itself, with no consideration for the motives of the individual performing the act. According to Kant, then, it wouldn’t matter why Jesus went to the cross, just that he went to the cross. And even more, if Jesus received no benefit from his crucifixion, his death would be morally superior and purer. And since it’s Jesus, we must assign to him only the purest motives.

This distorted view of love and selflessness has unfortunately infected many definitions of love in Christian writing and teaching. And it is simply not biblical. God does not act dispassionately. While God is essentially impassible, in his creation of the world and covenanting together with us through Christ, he condescended and bound himself to us in Christ. His relationship is one of genuine emotion, including love, joy, wrath, and jealousy. This distinction between the essential attributes of God and the creational (or covenantal) attributes understands God to be immutable, yet genuinely respond to his creation with real emotion. As a result, there is no need to deprive Jesus of a motivation of joy in his death.

In addition, the preceding context of Hebrews 11 makes it clear that the heroes of the faith did not live from a sense of “pure” duty and Kantian indifference. Rather, they were motivated by the reward that “lay before them.” Hebrews 11:13-16 presents the paradigm, which is followed by several examples of heroes who lived for (the joy of) future reward:

These all died in faith, not having received the things promised, but having seen them and greeted them from afar, and having acknowledged that they were strangers and exiles on the earth. For people who speak thus make it clear that they are seeking a homeland. If they had been thinking of that land from which they had gone out, they would have had opportunity to return. But as it is, they desire a better country, that is, a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared for them a city.

For he [Abraham] was looking forward to the city that has foundations, whose designer and builder is God. (11:10)

By faith Moses, when he was grown up, refused to be called the son of Pharaoh’s daughter, choosing rather to be mistreated with the people of God than to enjoy the fleeting pleasures of sin. He considered the reproach of Christ greater wealth than the treasures of Egypt, for he was looking to the reward. (11:24-26)

Women received back their dead by resurrection. Some were tortured, refusing to accept release, so that they might rise again to a better life. (11:35)

As these verses demonstrate, these heroes of the faith had a motivation of reward, or we could say, the joy of reward for what they did. This joy for what they would receive did not conflict in any way with their God-pleasing faith. In fact the opposite is true. We have already shown that there is no necessary connection between selflessness and a refusal to benefit in any way from a loving act. But it goes one step further. There is a necessary connection between an act of faith or obedience and the motivation for that act. Here is the principle: if an act of obedience or faith is not done out of a cheerful heart (seeking joy), it is not acceptable to God (2 Cor. 9:7).

Now we have turned Wuest’s essay on Greek prepositions on its head. While the Greek text certainly allows the sense of substitution or exchange in the use of anti, it is most certainly not a valid argument to say, as he does, that the rest of Scripture conflicts with our conclusion. Rather, the rest of Scripture stands in testimony against a Jesus who would die out of Kantian indifference.

Hebrews 12:2 depicts Jesus as seeking maximum joy for his own glory. He thought little of the shame of the cross because of the magnitude of the joy that would be his after securing redemption for his people. By securing redemption, he guaranteed that there would be for all eternity a people who would magnify his glory (Heb. 12:28-29). His motivation, then, was ultimately for his glory.

In Part 4 of this essay, we will look at the richness of joy-motivated love in the writings of men such as Blaise Pascal, C. S. Lewis, and John Piper. These men help reshape our faulty ideas about Christ’s love and ours.