Events tend to run in cycles. Things tend to repeat themselves. That’s why we’ve all heard the phrase, “Those who ignore history are destined to repeat it”. If we don’t learn the lessons history has to teach us, chances are we’ll end up travelling the same path.
If you closely consider history, you see evidence of this—in fact, that’s why many people are alarmed about the state of our country. For history teaches us the great civilizations have fallen, not primarily because of some outside force that overran them, but because of deterioration from within. The moral fiber and fabric of the society eroded, leaving them in a weakened state. The emerging internal problems brought on by the society’s breakdown caused them to devote so much energy and resources to those concerns that is lessened their ability to defend themselves from outside threats. Egypt, Rome, Greece—the colonial powers of Europe—all of them have pretty much gone that same path.
There’s also a cyclical pattern we see in the history of the church. God breathes and a movement of the Spirit occurs—a movement evidenced by a burst of spiritual energy ... tremendous zeal, rapid growth, and transformed lives. But after a while, the energy fades and institutionalism sets in. The church tends to become preoccupied with the status quo and becomes concerned more with addressing internal issues than being an agent of external change. The church loses something of its entrepreneurial spirit and starts to become more set in its ways. There a sense of “historical amnesia” that sets in, resulting in a gradual wandering from the original mission. Those things that were secondary to the movement’s founders become primary, and those things that were primary become neglected and altogether overlooked.
You can see this pattern of renewal and calcification—a burst of new life followed by a period of petrification—borne out time and again. And the tragic fact is many denominations or congregations or churches that enter that period never make it out of the hole and emerge on the other side. Once they plateau or begin to decline, they generally don’t make a comeback.
But just because comebacks are rare doesn’t mean they can’t occur. In Ezekiel 37 we read of a vision the prophet had when he was set in the midst of a valley full of bones. It says the bones were “very dry”, implying they were long dead and far beyond the reach of resuscitation. The Lord asked him whether he thought these bones could spring back to life, and Ezekiel said, “I have no idea—only you know the answer to that.” But then, beginning with v. 5, it says …
This is what the Sovereign Lord says to these bones: I will make breath enter you, and you will come to life.
In the following verses, what God said He’d do began to take shape. The bones came together in a systematic and organized way, He breathed into them the breath of life, and they sprang to life and were raised up as a vast and mighty army.
To the people of Ezekiel’s day ... people who’d lost their homeland and had been placed in exile ... this was a message of tremendous hope—that God could, and would, restore their nation. For us it’s a vision of renewal—a picture of the fact God can take the broken-down, dried-out, and washed-up remnants of His body and rekindle life ... that He can breathe into that which has deteriorated and dwindled away and bring renewed vigor, energy, and health.
Clearly, renewal is the work of God—it’s His endeavor. Renewal is not the fruit of some program. It’s not the result of some clever technique or innovative methodology. It is the venture of God. But, at the same time, you and I must participate with Him in that venture. God is not going to come in His renewing power apart from our involvement. There are things we can do, and must do, if it is going to happen. There are principles we must accept and priorities we must adopt if it’s going to take place. If we want to see renewal, we must participate with God in that process.
But I’m convinced there are keys to renewal—basic guidelines we must endorse if renewal is going to take place in our lives and our church. If you look at some of the great renewal movements in Christian history, you’ll see these principles were very much a part of people’s thoughts and lives. But, by spelling out these things, I’m not laying out a sure-fire recipe for renewal. It’s not a case of “do this and God is obligated to come upon the scene in a mighty way”. Renewal is not that cut and dried. But if we yearn for Him to break in and make His presence known in the life of His church, there are some hands-on things we can do to increase the likelihood of it happening. Renewal is not something we create or concoct; we can’t bring it about. But I strongly believe we can prevent it from happening.
So—what are the keys to renewal? There are six I want to explore in this series of posts, and the first one sounds so simple and elementary I almost hesitate to mention it. Yet it’s perhaps the most central element necessary for renewal. It’s this: Renewal can only happen when and where there’s a deep affection for Jesus … where there’s a clear focus upon Jesus as the object of our faith … where He is loved and adored and is our life’s consuming passion.
Renewal can’t happen within an atmosphere characterized by a going-thru-the-motions-Christianity ... a faith that’s a matter of convenience ... a faith that complacently acknowledges Jesus should fit into the scheme of things somewhere but dismisses Him when it comes to allowing Him to shape our daily lives. Renewal can only happen in an atmosphere characterized by a faith that is enamored with Jesus to the point of being perceived by some as being extreme or fanatical.
I’m reminded of Martin Luther who, because of the passion with which he held Jesus as the sole object of our faith, lived under imperial condemnation. His emphasis on the primacy of Jesus caused him to live in fear of his life and periodically seek protection of King Frederick. Same thing with John Wesley—he took this conviction on the primacy of Jesus to England in the 1700’s and found himself banned from preaching in Anglican pulpits because of what many considered his extremist views. His followers were called Methodists and it was not a term of respect. It was a slur … a term of denigration. But both of these men, largely because of their emphasis upon the centrality of Jesus, were catalysts of two of the most sweeping renewal movements the world has ever seen.
We live in a world described by many as “post-Christian”. The majority of people have jettisoned a Christian mindset and a belief in absolute truth. They’ve bought into the idea of relativism—that there are many acceptable paths to the top of the mountain. That’s why you see Islam growing by leaps and bounds in America. That’s why bookstores have numerous volumes that deal with topics like astrology, the occult, and New Age thought. The Judeo-Christian ethic that used to be something of a “given” no longer exists. We no longer have that shared framework or grid that permeates society.
As a result, there’s a great deal of confusion about who Jesus is. So the question, “What does it mean for Jesus to be the object of my faith?” becomes a very important one. When we say Jesus is the object of our faith, what are we saying? To answer that, I want to draw upon a conversation Jesus himself had with a man in the Bible—a man by the name of Nicodemus. We read of that in John chapter three.
Now there was a Pharisee, a man named Nicodemus who was a member of the Jewish ruling council. He came to Jesus at night and said, “Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher who has come from God. For no one could perform the signs you are doing if God were not with him.” Jesus replied, “Very truly I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God unless they are born again.” (John 3:1-3)
To grasp what’s going on here, we must understand this exchange in light of its context. It’s early on in Jesus’ public ministry. He has just completed his first trip to Jerusalem, during the Passover observance, where he stirred up a considerable amount of interest. However, the interest he garnered is an interest based solely on his miracles. The faith that has been placed in him is imperfect, founded almost entirely on the supernatural occurrences that have accompanied his ministry. And so, Jesus is skeptical. The last paragraph of John chapter two says as much.
Now while he was in Jerusalem at the Passover Festival, many people saw the signs he was performing and believed in his name. But Jesus would not entrust himself to them, for he knew all people. He did not need any testimony about mankind, for he knew what was in each person. (John 2:23-25)
Chapter three begins with the words, “Now there was a man of the Pharisees named Nicodemus”. You get the sense the writer is saying, “Here’s an example of the kind of flawed and imperfect faith that was surrounding Jesus. Here’s an illustration of the sort of thing I’ve been talking about.” And he goes on to relate this exchange between Jesus and Nicodemus.
But before he does, he gives us some background. First, he says Nicodemus was “a man of the Pharisees”—that tells you the school of thought he belonged to and the worldview with which he operated. The Pharisees were a legalistic group who strictly, and often hypocritically, adhered to the law of Moses and the tradition of the elders. Second, he says Nicodemus was “a member of the Jewish ruling council”—i.e., Rome left a measure of control in church-related matters to the Pharisees, and Nicodemus held an official position in that group. He was part of the leadership of this prominent group. And third, he says Nicodemus “came to him at night”—i.e., he had a regard for his reputation and standing. He knew there might be consequences if a man of his position was seen in connection with this upstart prophet that was creating such a stir, so he sought out Jesus at a time when others weren’t likely to see them together.
And he said to Jesus, “Rabbi, we know you’re a teacher who’s come from God. (It’s interesting how people try to buttress their opinions by using phrases such as “We know ...” or “I’m speaking for others when I say ...”. There’s almost a hint of condescension in Nicodemus’ voice—that he thinks it’s no small matter that he and some of his friends look upon him with favor. “Jesus, you should be honored that we see such tremendous promise in you”.) Nevertheless, Nicodemus said, “Rabbi, we know you are a teacher who has come from God. For no one could perform the miraculous signs you are doing if God were not with him.”
And Jesus responded straightforwardly, “I tell you the truth, no one can see the kingdom of God unless he is born again.”
What’s happening here, quite simply, is a clash between mindsets ... a battle regarding what makes a person acceptable to God. When Nicodemus came to Jesus, he said no one could help but be impressed with the signs and wonders he did. Jesus said it wasn’t the signs and wonders that were most important. What was most important was an internal life change of such magnitude that it could only be described as a new birth.
As a Pharisee, Nicodemus believed what made a person acceptable to God was his adherence to the law ... how good a job he did at abiding by the minutiae of this extensive external code. Because that was his mindset, Nicodemus saw Jesus as a “teacher”—one who could convey a sense of ethics and proper conduct to people and give them some helpful hints to live by.
As such, Nicodemus is representative of so many people in our day who say of Jesus, “He’s a great teacher” and stop there. Nicodemus is an illustration of the host of people who, when confronted with Jesus, don’t recognize who He is and what He came to earth to do … people who are blind to Christ’s redeeming work and seem to think they’re conferring some massive honor upon Him when they say, “Oh, he’s a tremendous teacher—one of the greatest that ever lived!”
To which Jesus says, “If all you see me as is a teacher, then you haven’t begun to understand who I am.” For Jesus, in essence, said to Nicodemus, “All the things you’ve been counting on are the wrong things. I didn’t come to this planet to teach. God didn’t dispatch me to this rock so I could pass along tidbits of information that would help you adhere to some minutiae-laden code. God sent me here for something much greater—to do something about your deepest need. God sent me here to get the human race back on track and deliver folks from the power of sin and death—to make it possible for you to become truly right with Him. And Nicodemus, that doesn’t happen because you adopt some standard you try to uphold. That doesn’t happen because you live your life according to some external code. It happens when you place your complete trust in me and allow me to radically change your entire nature. It happens when you extend me an invitation to invade your life and thoroughly renovate things inside and out. It happens when you make me the sole object of your faith and let me to transform every part of your being through and through. It happens, Nicodemus, when you are born again.”
In this exchange with Nicodemus, the gist of what Jesus was saying is, “What folks need is not a teacher. What they need is a Savior. What they need is some someone that can give them the assurance of pardon and cleansing and has the power to turn them around ... someone they can lay hold of that will utterly change their nature and make it possible for them to live above the clutches of sin. And that, Nicodemus, is why I’m here. God sent me to be the agent of renewal within the lives of all who will place their faith in me.”
And that’s where renewal begins. It begins within, and it begins when we make Jesus the exclusive object of our faith. Just as Jesus entered into human history from outside the realm of space and time, so we make Him the object of our faith when we allow Him to enter into us from the outside and set up an internal base of operations. Renewal begins when we come to possess a knowledge of God based, not on reason or intellect, but on a personal relationship with Him. That’s what the new birth is all about, and when it happens, it is as if an explosion takes place inside of us, opening all the doors that have been closed so that we can now live our lives from a totally different point of view. The past is eliminated and rendered as though it had never been ... our present is centered around a different set of motives and impulses ... and our questions regarding the reality of God are settled for we’re as sure and certain of God as He is of Himself. That’s what the new birth is about!
Do you crave renewal? Do you long for something that can bring vibrancy and richness to your life? The place to begin is with your assessment of Jesus. Don’t think of him as teacher or instructor. Make him a Savior. Make him the exclusive object of your faith—the foundation stone upon which your life is built. That’s where renewal begins—centered in the person of Jesus and anchored in the meritorious nature of His death on the Cross.