The words in the caption above are printed for you at the bottom of this post.

Early in 1832 a man named James Taylor* knelt down beside his pregnant 24–year–old wife, Amelia, and prayed: “Dear God, if you should give us a son, grant that he may work for you in China.”

Why China? Because James Taylor — this young chemist in Barnsley, Yorkshire, England — was positively fascinated by all things Chinese. Many great empires of the ancient world once rose to vast power only to fade away as history marched forward. Think of the mighty empires of Assyria, Babylon, Persia, Greece, and Rome. You only meet them now in history books or the Bible, but the Chinese Empire yet remains.

On May 21, 1832, God did indeed grant them a son. He was named James Hudson Taylor, Hudson being his mother’s maiden name.

Growing up around his father’s fascination with China, Hudson would sometimes declare his intention to live in China as a Christian missionary one day. His parents, however, did not tell him of their prayer for many, many years. They waited to see what God would do.

Like many of us, Hudson went through a period of restlessness and rebellion in his teenage years, but through the faithful prayers of his mother, he was restored to the Christian faith. (Think Monica & Augustine — see the July 31, 2007 post on this blog.)

A few months after his restoration, Hudson was on his face praying “before Him with unspeakable awe and unspeakable joy,” when his interest in China was renewed. From that point on, Hudson Taylor was wholly absorbed with one goal: taking the gospel to the interior of China.

The next few years were spent studying medicine, learning the Chinese language, and immersing himself in the Word of God and prayer. And on September 19, 1853 the 21–year–old Hudson Taylor said an emotional farewell to his mother (his father was deceased by this time), and boarded the little three–masted clipper Dumfries, headed for China.

Somewhere along the way the ship ran into a terrible storm. The captain was convinced they would not survive another half–hour and asked Hudson, “What of your call to labor for the Lord in China?” Hudson Taylor replied that he was confident they would reach China, but if not, “The Master would say it was well that I was found seeking to obey his command.”

And in March of 1854, they did indeed reach China.  We’ll continue the story of Hudson Taylor next time we return to the story category. But this is also the story of the church: living the adventure of faith, trusting God in the midst of fearful circumstances, and taking seriously Christ’s call to herald his gospel to all nations.

“To every toiling, heavy–laden sinner, Jesus says, ‘Come to me and rest.’ But there are many toiling, heavy–laden believers, too. For them this same invitation is meant. Note well the words of Jesus, if you are heavy–laden with your service, and do not mistake it. It is not, ‘Go, labour on,’ as perhaps you imagine. On the contrary, it is stop, turn back, ‘Come to me and rest.’ Never, never did Christ send a heavy laden one to work; never, never did He send a hungry one, a weary one, a sick or sorrowing one, away on any service. For such the Bible only says, ‘Come, come, come.’” Hudson Taylor

* No, not that James Taylor.  But I am listening to that James Taylor right now on pandora.com.  Shouldn’t you be doing the same?

From the caption with Hudson Taylor’ picture above… From his obituary, June 3, 1905: “In his death China lost one of her best friends and greatest benefactors. He loved the Chinese with a Christlike love and spent himself on their behalf with Christlike devotion. He lived for China and he died for China. From first to last his one grand aim was to bring this great people to Christ. He was a man of God, raised by God for a great work, and wholly devoted to the work which had been given him to do.” One Chinese evangelist on hearing of his death said: “Dear and venerable pastor, we too are your little children. You opened for us the road to heaven.”

It’s long been common knowledge at Cornerstone that Deacon Jason can do the work of twelve men. 

“Yep, if you want the work of twelve men done right, just give it to Jason.”

That’s what we say.  If I’ve heard it once, I’ve heard it a hundred times.

And here is photographic evidence of our old adage once again proving its veracity and factuality beyond all shadow of any reasonable doubt.

And in addition to Jason’s undeniable demonstration of his legendary work ethic, much more good was accomplished at Cornerstone’s recent work day at our new property.  We’re slowly transforming an eyesore into a nice residence for our new Assistant to the Pastor and his family.  Some day in the future we’ll see a church built there, God willing.  One step at a time.

Thanks to all the members who came out to enjoy the work day.  We can’t all hope to be a Jason of course… but we can surely be inspired by his example.

“Metaphor is the first love of English teachers, poets and advertising creatives, and it’s used skillfully by pretty much anyone who enjoys talking. When people describe a bad toupee as a rug, or when they call a troubled celebrity a train wreck, they are speaking in metaphor. Equating your subject with something apparently unrelated helps guide your audience to a deeper and more specific understanding of that subject. People will grasp the wretchedness of a toupee much more quickly if you call it a rug than they will if you just describe it as unattractive.”
Suzanne Pope

It’s perhaps the most famous sermon in the world.  Jesus himself goes up on a mountain, sits down, and the people begin to gather around with eager ears and hungry hearts.  The theme of the sermon seems to be “Life in the Kingdom of God: What It Means to Follow Christ.”

And in this sermon — which can be found in Matthew 5, 6, & 7 — Jesus talks about our bodies, our clothing, our money, our sexuality, our marriages, how we use words, how we pray, how we eat, how we relate to God’s law, how we handle strained relationships, how we regard our enemies, how we treat our worries, how we pursue various spiritual disciplines, how we relate to his claims to ultimate authority, etc.

But early on in this sermon, the Lord demonstrates that in addition everything else, he’s also the Master of the Metaphor.  He uses two of them, and we’ve been trying to unpack the meaning of them ever since.

The first was this.  Speaking to his disciples, he said: “You are the salt of the earth, but if salt has lost its taste, how shall its saltiness be restored? It is no longer good for anything except to be thrown out and trampled under people’s feet.” (Matthew 5.13)

Now, remember what Ms. Pope says above:  “Equating your subject with something apparently unrelated helps guide your audience to a deeper and more specific understanding of that subject.” This metaphor is intended to guide us to a deeper and more specific understanding of what it means to be a follower of Christ. 

So.  We’re salt. 

What do you make of that? 

Here’s the deal:  Salt had many domestic uses that would spring to the minds of Jesus’ contemporaries.  It was used as a condiment, to add seasoning, flavor, and relish to what would otherwise be bland and tasteless food.  Check out the comment on salt in Job 6.6, for example. 

But in the millennia before refrigeration was invented, salt was primarily used as a preservative.  It was salt that kept meat wholesome; it was salt that prevented next week’s dinner from decaying today.  And in some places of the world, it still is.  As you read these words, there are people in this world rubbing coarse salt into dried meat so they can live off of it later.  Otherwise the meat would putrefy and rot.  It cannot keep itself from going bad.

And so with this fallen, broken world.  It cannot keep itself from going bad.  The process of moral and social decay can only be arrested — or at least hindered — by the influence of something like salt from the outside of it.

God has established a variety of institutions to restrain this world from utter decay: the state keeps us from slipping into anarchy; the family hinders our tendencies toward selfish abandon.  These are meant to be wholesome, God–ordained influences in society.  But the most powerful restraint that God has applied to the decay of this sin–sick world is his church.

Read today’s headlines.  Human moral standards are made of pitiful, constantly changing, and altogether unreliable stuff.  It’s the kind of stuff that won’t “keep” over time.  It needs salt.  It needs the church. 

But note what Jesus says about this salt in the rest of verse 13.  The effectiveness of salt is conditional.  It must retain its “saltiness,” or it will be of no help whatsoever.

To remain effective, Christians must retain their “saltiness.” So, “have salt in yourselves,” Jesus said to his followers on an occasion when he was returning to this lesson (Mark 9.50). 

How do we retain our saltiness, our effectiveness in this world?  By remaining faithful to Christ. 

Salt itself is a very stable chemical compound and very resistant to attack.  But if it becomes contaminated with impurities, it becomes useless.  So with the Christian.  When we become contaminated with the impurity of a world in rebellion against Christ, we lose our influence in this world. 

Christians who are indistinguishable from the rest of the world are like saltless salt.  And Jesus said (Matthew 5.13) that saltless salt wasn’t good for much.

Dr. Martin Lloyd–Jones says this:  “The glory of the gospel is that when the Church is absolutely different from the world, she invariably attracts it.  It is then that the world is made to listen to her message, though it may hate it at first.”

Next time we return to the Life category, we’ll pick up the next metaphor Jesus used near the headwaters of the Sermon on the Mount.  This world is not only decaying; it’s also dark.

If the comic above is too small to enjoy, you can read the dialogue in the comments section of this post.

Why are we continuing to talk about sin in the Faith category of this blog?  Because starting back on July 17, 2007, we devoted this category to a careful study of the three central, foundational doctrines of the Bible:  Creation, Sin, Redemption.

Having worked through the Christian understanding of Creation, we’re now exploring what the Bible has to say about Sin.

And it’s important to get these three foundational doctrines right.  These are the pillars of a true theology — that is, a true understanding of God and his work.  If you get the foundational truths wrong, or if you end up with a missing or compromised pillar, you know what happens.  The whole structure collapses.

So, with that in mind, let’s ask the question:  How does the Bible describe the natural condition (morally & spiritually) of every human being after the fall?  If we are deficient or “light” in our view of sin, we’ll have a very defective view of everything else in the Christian faith and life. 

J.C. Ryle put it this way: “There are very few errors or false doctrines of which the beginning may not be traced up to unsound views about the corruption of human nature.  Wrong views of a disease will always bring with them wrong views of a remedy.  Wrong views of the corruption of human nature will always carry with them wrong views of the grand antidote and cure of that corruption.”

So, this is an important question:  Was our fall into sin total or partial?  How you answer that question matters. 

The Bible clearly teaches — as will be pointed out below — that humanity’s fall into sin was a total fall, not a partial one.  In theological terms, this is sometimes referred to as the doctrine of “total depravity,” meaning that there is a total inability on the part of man to gain or even contribute to his own salvation.

Now, be careful to hear what “total depravity” does not mean.  It does not mean that every person is as evil as he or she could be.  Nor does it mean that he or she is unable to do any good thing whatsoever.

It means that when humanity fell into sin in the Garden of Eden, we fell in our totality!  Mind, thoughts, heart, emotions, will, understanding, imagination, desires, words, motives, dreams, affections, etc., etc., etc. 

Sin now extends to the whole personality of the human being.  Every human faculty has been affected by the fall into sin.

This unflattering truth can be found face–up on page after page of the Bible.  Naturally speaking — that is, before salvation — man is spiritually dead (Romans 5.21; Ephesians 2.1), spiritually bound (2 Timothy 2.26), spiritually bind and deaf (Mark 4.11,12), spiritually uninstructable (1 Corinthians 2.14), and just naturally sinful, both by birth (Psalm 51.5) and practice (Genesis 6.5).

Of course, the Bible references could be multiplied hundreds of times.  But a small sampling will do for a blog post. 

And here’s the kicker:  Can the dead raise themselves?  Can the bound free themselves?  Can the slaves redeem themselves?  Can the blind give themselves sight or the deaf give themselves hearing?  Can the uninstructable teach themselves?  Can the naturally sinful change themselves?

The Word of God is plain and simple on this point.  Our sinfulness (or depravity) is total.  Our inability to even desire salvation (much less earn it or contribute to it) is total.  Total inability.

The picture is one of death.  And indeed that’s what it is — spiritual death.  Picture Lazarus in his tomb.  He’s bound hand and foot and the corruption of death has taken hold of him.  Spiritually, that’s who we are.  There’s not a glimmer of spiritual life within us.

But the good news is that Christ doesn’t come from within us.  He and his life–giving power come from outside of us, just as he did with his friend Lazarus.

And that’s what we need.  If we are to know spiritual life… if we are to live in spiritual freedom… if we are to see and hear spiritual truths… if we are to receive spiritual instruction… if we are to be delivered at last from the slavery of sin… then Christ Himself must come and personally redeem us from our disinterested state of spiritual death. 

Hallelujah.  Come, Lord Jesus. 

On Saturday we had the privilege of seeing two members of the Cornerstone family unite in marriage.  Congratulations to Sharon & Ryan!

As a reflection on this wonderful gift, consider these words from Mike Mason’s The Mystery of Marriage…

Marriage is the closest bond that is possible between two human beings. That, at least, was the original idea behind it. It was to be something unique, without parallel or precedent. In the sheer sweep and radical abandon of its commitment, it was to transcend every other form of human union on earth, every other covenant that could possibly be made between two people. Friendship, parent–child, master–pupil — marriage would surpass all these other bonds in a whole constellation of remarkable ways, including equality of the partners, permanent commitment, cohabitation, sexual relations, and the spontaneous creation of blood ties through simple spoken promises.

As it was originally designed, marriage was a union to end all unions, the very last word, and the first, in human intimacy. Socially, legally, physically, emotionally, every which way, there is just no other means of getting closer to another human being, and never has been, than in marriage.

Such extraordinary closeness is bought at a cost, and the cost is nothing more nor less than one’s own self. No one has ever been married without being shocked at the enormity of this price and at the monstrous inconvenience of this thing called intimacy which suddenly invades their life.

At the wedding a bride and groom may have gone through the motions of the candlelighting ceremony, each blowing out their own flame and lighting one central candle in place of the two, but the touching simplicity of this ritual has little in common with the actual day–to–day pressures involved as two persons are merged into one. It is a different matter when the flame that must be extinguished is no lambent flicker of a candle, but the blistering inferno of self–will and independence.

There is really nothing else like this lifelong cauterization of the ego that must take place in marriage. All of life is, in one way or another, humbling. But there is nothing like the experience of being humbled by another person, and by the same person day in and day out. It can be exhausting, unnerving, infuriating, disintegrating. There is no suffering like the suffering involved in being close to another person. But neither is there any joy nor any real comfort at all outside of intimacy, outside the joy and the comfort that are wrung out like wine from the crush and ferment of two lives being pressed together.

What happens to a couple when they fall in love, when they pitch headlong into this winepress of intimacy, is not simply that they are swept off their feet: more than that, it is the very ground they are standing on, the whole world and ground of their own separate selves, that is swept away.

A person in love cannot help becoming, in some sense, a new person. After all, even to stand for five minutes beside a stranger in a supermarket line–up, without exchanging one word, is to be drawn irresistibly, uncomfortably, enigmatically into the dizzying vortex of another human life. It is to be subtly swayed, held, hypnotized, transfixed — moved and influenced in a myriad of ways, subliminal and seldom analyzed, but nonethesless potent.

But marriage takes this same imponderable magnetism and raises it to an infinite power. The very next step in human closeness, beyond marriage, would be just to scrap the original man and woman and create one new human being out of the two.

But this is exactly what happens (both in symbol and in actuality) in the birth of a child! Eventually the parents die, leaving the child a living sign of the unthinkable extremity of union which took place between two distinct lives. The two became one: “Has not the Lord made them one? In flesh and spirit they are his. And why one? Because he was seeking godly offspring.” (Malachi 2.15).