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| There is a Native American parable that goes something like this:
A child came home and told his grandfather how his classmates had ridiculed him and trashed his belongings. Hurt and angry, he told his grandfather how he hated them and wanted to hurt each with all heart.
The Grandfather held the small boy and said, “I too have felt a great hate for those that have taken so much with little or no remorse. I have struggled with these feelings and it is as if there are two wolves fighting in my heart.”
He continues, “One wolf is noble, loving, and compassionate. He lives in harmony those around him and is benevolent. The other wolf is vengeful, angry, and violent. He fights everyone because his hate consumes him. It is sometimes hard to live with these two wolves inside me, for both are skilled warriors and try to dominate my spirit.”
The boy looks up with quiet tears and asks, “Which wolf wins?”
The grandfather replies, “The one I feed.” | | |
| Today You Will Be with Me in Paradise
Good Friday
By John PiperApril 17, 1981
Luke 23:43
Two Ways to Respond to Suffering
There are two kinds of responses to our own personal suffering: 1) We can rail against God and say, "If you are such a great and powerful and loving God, why am I in this hellish mess?" 2) Or we can acknowledge that we are sinners and don't deserve any good thing, and cry out for mercy and help in our time of desperation. The world is full of those who rail against God in their self-righteousness and presume that the creator of the universe is obliged to make their life smooth. But there are only a few who own up to the fact that God owes us nothing, and that any good to come our way will be due to his mercy, not our merit. I think Luke records this text for us about the two thieves to teach us that there is great reward for responding to suffering like the first sort of person. The two thieves represent these two ways of responding to suffering and relating to Christ in suffering.
Notice first how similar they are. Both are suffering the pain of crucifixion. Both are guilty of crime ("We are receiving the due reward of our deeds," v. 41). Both see Jesus, the sign over his head ("King of the Jews," v. 38); they hear the words from his mouth ("Father forgive them," v. 34). And both of these thieves want desperately to be saved from death.
Most of us have all these things in common with these two thieves: there has been, is, or will be suffering in our lives. And none of us will be able to say: "I do not deserve this." Most of us have seen Jesus on the cross and have heard his claim to kingship and his gracious words of forgiveness. And all of us want to be saved from death one way or the other.
But then the ways divide between these two thieves and between two categories of people. The first thief says, "Are you not the Christ? Save yourself and us!" What a picture of a spiritually destitute, worldly man. It is a matter of total indifference to him that he is suffering "the due reward of his deeds." To him right and wrong, praise and blame, good and bad are of no interest: his one objective is to save his earthly skin. He might even believe Jesus is the Messiah, the King of the Jews. But, it's only a matter of convenience to him: he'll take anybody as king who can get him off the cross. Just another patsy to serve his own worldly purposes.
That's the way one whole segment of humans relates to God in suffering. Suffering interrupts their private, worldly goals and pleasures. So why not try God? "If you are king, then get me out of this mess." It's the old car-jack theology. A car-jack is a dirty, useless thing to be kept out of sight in the trunk until you have a flat tire (a little suffering). Then you get it out, let it do the dirty work, and put it away again. "If you're such a good jack, jack me down off this cross, Jesus." "If you're such a good jack, jack me up out of this sickness, out of this financial mess, out of this lousy job, out of this crummy marriage."
The thief had no spirit of brokenness, or guilt, or penitence, or humility. He could only see Jesus as a possible power by which to escape the cross. He did not see him as a king to be followed. It never entered his mind that he should say he was sorry and should change.
But notice the other thief: this one is the one Luke wants us to be like. First, he is not sucked in by the other fellow's railing. And if we are to follow his example, we will have to stand our ground and not be sucked in by the people all around us who say, "If your God is so great and loving, then why the 20 kids shot in Atlanta?" "Why sixteen miners buried in a cave?" "Why a village slaughtered in El Salvador?" "Why doesn't he come down off his helpless perch on the cross and do something?" The first thing the repentant thief does is not get deceived by all this talk.
"But he rebuked him saying, 'Do you not fear God?"' This is the second thing about this penitent thief: he feared God. God was real to him. God was his creator, and he knew that a pot can't take up arms against the potter and come away victorious. It is fitting that creatures bow in submission before their creator and subject all their life to his wisdom. It is even more fitting that sinful creatures bow before God in holy fear, instead of railing against God as if a rebel ant should kick against the foothills of Mt. Everest and demand that it flatten out so the ant can walk across.
Third, the penitent thief admitted that he had done wrong: "We are receiving the due reward of our deeds" (v. 41). He had no desire to save face any more; he had no more will to assert himself. He was here and laid open before the God he feared and there was no way to hide his guilt. I know people right now who are in trouble. But instead of laying down their self-righteous defenses, they are devising every means to finagle and distort so as to appear innocent and cool. The penitent thief gave it up. It's a hopeless tack, anyway, before an all-knowing God!
Fourth, not only did he admit to wrong and guilt, he accepted his punishment as deserved. "We are under the sentence of condemnation justly." This is the real test of humility before God. Many will mouth the confession of sin: "God be merciful to us miserable sinners," but when some trouble comes, they get angry at him. And this anger reveals that they do not really feel undeserving before God. They still feel, deep down, that they have some rights before God. There are not many people like Job, who, when he lost everything, said: "Naked I came from my mother's womb and naked shall I return; the Lord gave and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord." But this penitent thief did become like Job in the last minutes of his life—he took his suffering without complaint, and feared God.
Fifth, the thief acknowledged Jesus' righteousness: "This man had done nothing wrong." It didn't make any difference to the first thief if Jesus was right or wrong. If he could drive the get-away car—that's all that mattered. But it matters a lot to Jesus if we think his life was good or bad. Jesus does not want to drive a get-away car; he wants to be followed because we admire him. We must say with the thief: "This man has done nothing wrong." This man only does what is good. This man only speaks the truth. This man is worthy of our faith and allegiance and imitation.
And then, sixth, the thief goes a step further and acknowledges that indeed, Jesus is a king. "Remember me when you come into your kingdom." Even though he is suffering now, Jesus has the mark of a king. For those who have eyes to see, he has a power here on the cross—a power of love that makes him king over all his tormentors. He is not only good, he is powerful, and one day he will vindicate his great name, and every knee will bow and confess that Jesus is Lord—to the glory of God, the Father.
And finally, the penitent thief does one more thing. He fears God, admits wrong, accepts justice, acknowledges the goodness and power of Jesus. Now he pleads for help. "Jesus, remember when you come into your kingdom." Both thieves wanted to be saved from death. But O how differently they sought their salvation: 1) "Are you not the Christ? Save yourself and us!" 2) "Jesus, remember when you come into your kingdom!" There is an infinite qualitative difference between "Save me!" and "Save me!"
Now what motive does Jesus give us to follow in the steps of the penitent thief? There is a fearful silence toward the railing thief: not a word recorded of Jesus to him. Perhaps a final pitying glance. But no promise. No hope.
But to the penitent Jesus says: "Today you will be with me in Paradise." This was almost too good. There would not even be a delay. Today the Spirit of Jesus and the renewed spirit of the thief would be in union in Paradise. The promise would be without delay.
What is this paradise? The word is found in two other places in the New Testament. First, in 2 Corinthians 12:3 Paul says, "I know a man in Christ, who fourteen years ago was caught up to the third heaven—whether in the body or out of the body, I do not know; God knows. And I know that this man was caught up into Paradise—whether in the body or out of the body, I do not know; God knows—and he heard things which cannot be told, which man may not utter." Thus, Paradise is the heavenly abode of God where there are found things prepared by God for those who love him, which are utterly indescribable (1 Corinthians 2:9). The second place the word "Paradise" is found is in Revelation 2:7. Here Jesus says to the church at Ephesus, "To him who conquers, I will grant to eat of the tree of life, which is in the Paradise of God." And if we look at the end of the book of Revelation we find that the tree of life is in the heavenly city of God. In Revelation 22:1 John said, "Then he showed me the river of the water of life, bright as crystal, flowing from the throne of God and of the Lamb through the middle of the street of the city; also, on either side of the river, the tree of life with its twelve kinds of fruit, yielding its fruit each month; and the leaves of the tree were for the healing of the nations."
But in all this, the one thing that Jesus chose to mention to the repentant thief on the cross (if you can only say one thing, what do you say?): "You will be with me today." You have to love and admire Jesus a lot for that to be a solace when you leave this life behind. It reminds me of that great spiritual, "When I come to die, give me Jesus . . . You can have all this world, give me Jesus."
© Desiring God
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Please include the following statement on any distributed copy: By John Piper. © Desiring God. Website: desiringGod.org
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| About two weeks ago I played my clarinet for the first time in 7 years. I had taken it along with me to college and work but it always evaded my attention and desire. After 7 years I had no clue how the intricately designed woodwork and silver keys would feel against my cold fingertips; no clue if my fingers would recall the chromatic scale or if my eyes would be able to read the music. I only vaguely remembered facial muscles that would get contorted from lack of practice and cause air to leak out around my lips. I had forgotten the taste of dry wood getting moist in my saliva and the warm smell of cork and grease. The agonizingly beautiful tones from Emma Johnson's Mozart rendition were but a faint whisper, beckoning me to days of old.
But as I moistened my reed and applied light grease to the cork, an all too familiar feeling swept over me. My actions were not being led by intentional desire but by the second nature that develops only after countless repetitions of the same motion. I could still read music and my fingers automatically moved in half step increments. The tone was a little screechy, but I could hear myself playing Mozart in front of the judges.
Yet even submersed in such familiarity, I felt detached from my clarinet. It's a little eerie, that feeling of disengaged intimacy. If I drew a parallel, it would have to be like childhood lovers come together after 20 years. I don't know, it was just a little weird. | | |
| A few days after I arrived at Orange County, I decided I would bike to 24 hour fitness. That way I'd get my cardio and save a workout for another muscle group. The route is 3 miles downhill the way there and 3 miles uphill the way back. I never gave it a second thought, and immediately started to fix up my bike so I could take this trek as soon as possible. In the blink of an eye I dropped $80 just to fix my tires. For someone who's trying to adjust to a life without an income, I was shocked at how expensive it is to maintain a bike. So basically I spent enough to guarantee that I'd bike to 24 regardless how daunting the uphill route back would be.
On Wednesday I took my first trip. I thought the downhill ride would be a cinch, but I found out that my bike still needs a lot of alignment work and tuning. So when I hit flat ground, I still had to labor slightly just to keep going forward. As soon as I felt this unexpected resistance on my way to 24, I began to dread my bike ride back home. When I got to 24, I seriously considered just turning around and trying to make it back home without expending any more energy in the weight room. But I get pretty stubborn about things I set my mind to, so I locked up my bike and walked in to workout.
The whole time I kept asking myself if I should take it easy, but for some illogical reason, I didn't. After every set I would sit with my head down while my body kept screaming that it needed nourishment and sleep. That's what happens when you wake up at 6a and start biking in the cold morning chill without breakfast or even a cup of water.
I finally finished my workout, bit my lip and went out to start my journey home. As soon as I hit an incline I could feel my quads tightening up, but in the spur of the moment I forced my legs to keep cycling. That is until my bike stopped moving forward and I had to put my legs on the ground to stop from falling over. Immediately both my quads cramped up and my legs locked up so I couldn't bend them at the knees... AT ALL. This has only happened twice in my life. One time I played basketball for hours on end and then had to walk someone home to Clark Kerr before walking home to Dwight and College. It was at night so I got pretty scared that I could only walk like a penguin. The other time was when I played basketball for a few hours and then was goaded into swimming laps at the RSF. The cold water basically took all the nourishing heat away from my quads and calves and my legs locked up. I thought I would drown. This time, if you can imagine, I was stuck with a bike between my legs in the middle of an uphill street on the sidewalk, cringing at the pain of muscles pleading for electrolytes.
With all my strength, I was finally able to bend my right leg and swing it around the bike. But because I took my bike stand off the other day, I had to try to prop the bike up on the wall next to the sidewalk. That only locked up my right leg again as I started to curse at the bike because it wouldn't stay propped up. Finally, the bike decided to stay put. At that point I had to grit my teeth and try to bend both legs and stretch my quads. When I got both of them to bend I had to sit down on the sidewalk. I sat like that for a few minutes as I greedily chomped on my granola bar and chugged my water. I felt like a loser as cars passed whizzed past, the drivers probably thinking I was in over my head and smugly grinning at me for it.
I didn't know if I could get up without cramping again. But out of the corner of my eyes, I saw the bright radiation of ah-joom-mah exercise clothes. Basically about 3 old ladies were making their way up the hill, on my side of the road. I couldn't bear having to endure the chuckles that were likely to emanate from their mouths. So, with some determination I got off my butt, took my bike, and started to walk uphill. At first my legs felt like they were going to cramp again, but I think the granola started to make its way to my muscle fibers. I don't know, but the tight feeling went away and I was able to get to an area where I could start pedaling again.
Next time I'm gonna win. | | |
| Today marks the 13th day of my self inflicted unemployment. I haven't done much but settle into my cozy home, clean up the house, change my dog's pee pad, clean up his doo-doo, workout, fix up my bike, and paint in the little scratches on my bumper. I've been pretty much anti-social, content with hanging out with my dog, who provides endless entertainment as long as I have the energy to engage him. I also haven't been back to my home church yet, using this opportunity to check out churches I haven't had the luxury to in the past. So truly, I haven't really made much human contact yet.
I think a lot of people are waiting for the next step, dreaming of days beyond the ordinary cube. But time flies, bills rack up, expectations take root, and sooner or later, you get stuck. The longer you live, the harder it gets to redefine yourself. That's why I got out. But let me be the first to tell you life isn't much greener. Corporate America gives you the medium to set achievable goals and realize them, but on the outside, you're alone to fend off the world.
I can already feel the burdensome pressure of having to decide what's next. Sometimes I wish I were forever young and only have to worry about when I could next play with my friends. At the same time there are so many wonderful things going on in my life now, and if I were still a little boy, I wouldn't have those with me. I think that's what makes my existence so wretched, yet so painfully beautiful. I yearn for the carefree days of old, yet dream of days when I can provide that carefree environment for others.
In my professional life, I dream of situations where my work directly impacts people in a profound way, yet I realize I don't possess an overwhelming gift that can carry me there. At the same time, I understand that to be a provider I may need to suck it up and have my career provide the means to pursue dreams instead pursuing a dream career. How wretched, to have the capacity to dream, but no obvious talent to make those dreams a singular passion. But therein lies the danger of confusing my priorities and focusing on money as the solution. In the end I may have a lot of money, but to have missed out on realizing those dreams... that would truly be a life wasted. | | |
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