Husbands, love your wives, as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her, that he might sanctify her, having cleansed her by the washing of water with the word, so that he might present the church to himself in splendor, without spot or wrinkle or any such thing, that she might be holy and without blemish.

In the same way husbands should love their wives as their own bodies. He who loves his wife loves himself. For no one ever hated his own flesh, but nourishes and cherishes it, just as Christ does the church, because we are members of his body.

“Therefore a man shall leave his father and mother and hold fast to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh.” This mystery is profound, and I am saying that it refers to Christ and the church. Eph 5:25-32

Jack, I haven’t had as much time to get to know you as I often have other young men we bless in this way. So I created a survey and sent it to every student on the Hillsdale College campus.

Well, actually I asked two people who know you and they both said the same thing. The truth, we know, is established in the mouth of two or three witnesses. They said you were dependable, steadfast, thoughtful and prayerful. They said you were the kind of guy men would follow.

There are wonderful things for someone to say about you as a young man. And they suggest you may already understand what I am about to say. But I’m going to say it anyway. I need to hear it, and so does every man here.

And what I want to say is that marriage is a covenant.

It is not a contract. It is not merely a commitment. Both of these are limited. The one focuses on your rights and the other usually only last as long as your rights are respected. But a covenant does not secure our rights. It surrenders them.

Consider David. He was sometimes a carnal man. But God honors his covenant with David. Abraham was sometimes fearful and even dishonest man. God’s covenants with them were based on what He would do. He swore by himself because He could swear by non one greater.

Covenants, including the new one that secures our salvation, were signified by sacrifice made, promises given, meals shared, witnesses sworn; many of these elements pointed to in a wedding ceremony today. That’s because marriage is about the kind of unconditional covenants God makes. This is the mystery referred to in Ephesians 5.

So know this.

It is a mystery that God uses flawed men like ourselves to picture his own sanctifying love for the church.

It is a mystery that a godly young woman would give herself to us in the first place.

It is a mystery that relationships that require such constant forgiveness and forbearance become stronger rather than strained.

It is a mystery that such covenant keeping relationships teach us more about fidelity and faithfulness than any sermon we will ever hear.

It is a mystery that Caroline will know you better than anyone else and yet love your more.

It is a mystery that God trusts us with children and unites us as one flesh with His own daughters.

It is a mystery that through your relationship with Caroline God will teach your children and your neighbors about His own sanctifying, covenant-keeping love.

It is a mystery because you can’t understand the grace that gives it and could never have anticipated the growth that accompanies it.

So cherish this woman. She is for you, all fair, more lovely than you know, stronger than you expect, more forgiving than you deserve. Nurture her, protect her, lavish her with gentle deeds and daily kindness.

She will thus blossom and flourish, more radiant than ever, reflecting the glory of her God. Love this woman in such a way that you both will understand more completely and gratefully how Christ loves his church.

This is now your great calling and will be your great joy.

We traveled to Chicago twice to meet him, but he didn’t come until the day after we left the second time.

The first time was just wishful thinking. We had a long weekend near his due date. And we like Chicago. So we spent Easter weekend at the Whitehall Inn on the Gold Coast, living the life of the idle rich. And spending time each day with our son Michael and his family. (Just for the record, we are neither rich nor idle.)

But we didn’t really expect the baby to arrive. We just wished he would.

Last Wednesday morning, however, we did expect him to arrive. Past his due date, the midwives decided they should try to induce labor early Wednesday, so we left work at noon and drove to the hospital in driving rain, stayed around a few hours and then drove home again, about 4 hours each way.

Between working, driving and waiting it was about a 20 hour day. But I’m not complaining. Karina was in labor longer than that.

They had decided to discontinue the pitosin drip about 8:30 p.m. and let Karina rest—starting again the next morning. And our eighth grandchild, Elias, made his appearance about 1:30 that afternoon, Thursday.

So Katie and I haven’t met him yet, although we made a valiant effort. And our next window is next weekend. He will probably be walking and talking by then.

This is not unusual, given the far-flung empire of our clan. My last two grandsons were born in Tallahassee and Seattle, and it took months to finally meet them. But I came close enough to welcoming Elias to make a few observations about his arrival.

And this is what I have to say to him about that.

First, young sir, you have a lot to be thankful for and a lot to look forward to. You are blessed to be wanted, loved, waited for and celebrated, by your parents, your sister, your grandparents and a host of aunts, uncles, cousins and friends.

But as I watched your mom in labor last weekend I was especially struck by her inner strength. Yes, I know moms have babies all the time, but few as quietly and confidently as yours did.

We could see the contractions on the monitor—but barely on her face. She drew on deep reserves, anticipating, as with your sister, a long and painful process. This was more than stoicism. It was more than a tolerance for pain. It was a resolute contemplation of joy to come.

You will, I expect, draw often on this reserve. Her love will steady you and her spirit will encourage you and her faith will sustain you. Some young men have mothers who drain them, even scare them. Some men have moms who are fragile and clingy and explosive. You are not one of those men.

And I’ll tell you this too. Your dad, my son, knows how to love your mom. Watch him closely and you will learn how to love her too. And to love your own wife someday, in a sanctifying, covenant-keeping way. As a dad I was proud of the way your father supported her and cherished her in that delivery room this week. Watch him closely and learn from him.

And listen to them both: Forsake not your father’s instruction and forsake not your mother’s teaching, for they are a graceful garland for your head and pendants for your neck (Proverbs 1:9):

Bind [their teachings] on your heart always,
tie them around your neck.
When you walk they will lead you;
When you lie down they will watch over you;
And when you awake they will talk to you.
For the commandment is a lamp
and the teaching a light (Proverbs 6:21-23)

So welcome, Elias Daniel Metts.

To a life already greatly blessed.

_________________________

If you are on Facebook, here is a link to Michael’s album and post for his new son.

Husbands, love your wives, as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her, that he might sanctify her, having cleansed her by the washing of water with the word, so that he might present the church to himself in splendor, without spot or wrinkle or any such thing, that she might be holy and without blemish. In the same way husbands should love their wives as their own bodies. He who loves his wife loves himself. For no one ever hated his own flesh, but nourishes and cherishes it, just as Christ does the church, because we are members of his body. “Therefore a man shall leave his father and mother and hold fast to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh.” This mystery is profound, and I am saying that it refers to Christ and the church. (Ephesians 5:25-32 ESV)

Kwame, you come to us as a stranger. And we trust you will leave tonight as a friend. This is the great gift of Christian hospitality.

But you are more than a friend. You are a brother. And you intend to marry one of our daughters in the faith. So you come also as a son.

So we commend you in the Lord to discharge faithfully the office of a husband, caring for Kim as Christ cares for his church. The Ephesians text, however, requires much more than care. You already care for Kim. It is our prayer than you will learn to love her as Christ loves the church.

Photo by Jennifer Buehrer

It is good to love our wives in this way. In fact it is good to spoil them when we can, to lavish them in the same way the grace of God pours over us, overwhelming us with undeserved mercy and irrepressible joy.

But the reason Christ loves the church in this way is to sanctify his bride, and present her to himself in splendor. So we give ourselves, frequently and freely, and we do this as Christ does it—to help our wives become radiant, holy, and beloved. We can’t help sanctify our wives, however, if we give up the principles that guide us and define us as sons of God.

This is the essential challenge—to protect and sanctify our wives, so that they flourish as daughters of God and find themselves more secure in our love. Biblical leadership does this, as we guide them toward biblical faithfulness. Such leadership is neither coercive or oppressive, but liberating and and patient.

This means you have a responsibility to create boundaries and expectations that lead your wife graciously toward godly maturity. And it means you must commit yourself to study and prayer, so you know what to do and how to explain it.

This is how we love them them as we love ourselves, and trust me, we do love ourselves. We cherish and nurture our own body—yet in marriage we become one flesh. We take care of ourselves. We look out for ourselves. And in marriage we learn better than we learn anywhere else to love someone else, to look after her interests, to be thoughtful and careful and kind.

I can tell you Kim is a strong willed woman. But it is the will of God you seek, and toward which you must point her and point yourself. Do not fail in this—to protect her, not just physically but spiritually, and not just when she agrees but when God tells you what He requires.

It is not enough to be well-educated, as you both are. It is wisdom you seek—the wisdom that begins with the fear of the Lord. You are being given a gift—a smart, beautiful, witty woman. But more than this you are being given a responsibility—to love her sacrificially, to guide her spiritually, and to worship God only.

This mystery is profound, and I am reminding you that it refers to Christ and the church. The way you do this will say more to your family than the words you speak. There are words that need to be said, certainly. But over time your testimony to your family and even your friends will be increased or diminished by how you manage this responsibility.

You will learn so much in marriage about when to speak and how to forgive. You will learn better how to bear the image of Christ in the world. By God’s grace those who know you will be drawn to your God as you are yourself transformed into the image of his Son.

Marriage helps transform us, more than any other human bond. You will find you must pray more and give more and love more. You will wait more and listen more and desire more.

We will pray, as friends and fathers and brothers, that you will find yourself rooted in the church of the living God, surrounded and strengthened by others who shoulder the Cross of Christ.

We will pray also for your life together, and for the children the Lord may give you.

And we will pray for you personally, that you will be strong in the faith, gracious in your leadership, and Christ like in your love for Kim.

This we pray, for the glory of God.

I find myself, sometimes, wanting to rush through a mealtime prayer, especially if my eggs are getting cold.

But God, we know, takes food seriously. He starts us out in a garden, then promises His people a land flowing with milk and honey, and finally holds before his children the promised Marriage Supper of the Lamb.

Even now this promise is represented at the Lord’s Table—sharing bread and wine to remember the sacrifice of His Son and to anticipate His return, one of the most ubiquitous and meaningful experiences of our life together as believers.

Food is more than imagery, of course. It is not just a metaphor, but a real, tangible, and necessary thing. We pray, as Christ taught, for our daily bread. And for millenniums we have worked for and prayed for it in ways that are easy to forget, given the distance between our tables and our fields.

The most helpful aspect of the slow, organic, local food movement perhaps is the call to see the connection between the food we eat and the land that sustains us. “Eating is an agricultural act,” as Wendell Berry puts it.

But that’s not quite far enough, as Berry acknowledges in his essay on “The Pleasures of Eating.” The real connection is between the food we eat and the God who gives it to us. That strikes me as the connection He always intended.

Our thanksgiving, unfortunately, is either ritual or rare. Perhaps both. For evangelicals especially, nothing comes as close as quickly to the vain repetitions of which Christ warned. A cursory nod, perhaps, to the cook, and maybe to the strength we might gain. But even the devout often give thanks with no consideration to the rain, the soil, the farmer, the harvest, or even the taste.

There is no awe of the miracle, especially if it comes in a box. This is a great loss. To the degree the “real food” movement helps us celebrate the textures, and odors, and tastes of our food, we move in the right direction. But this can easily turn to pride instead of gratitude, as we congratulate ourselves on our ability to buy it, cook it, or even recognize it.

Arugula anyone?

You don’t have to be a hipster or a foodie for this to happen, however. You can buy your food at a discount grocer in a box or grow it outside your backdoor and still forget the connection to your Provider. You can be as proud of your thrift as you are of your good taste.

In contrast the ancient Hebrews gave thanks before they ate, offered prayer over each specific food as it was served, and then offered a benediction at the end. These blessings for food continue today. And the Apostle Paul reminds us foods were created by God “to be received with thanksgiving by those who believe and know the truth.”

“For everything created by God is good,” he continues, “and nothing is to be rejected if it is received with thanksgiving, for it is made holy by the word of God and prayer.”

It’s no great feat to see better food as good. I commend those who remind us it tastes better and is better for us.

But to see food as holy?

Well, that’s a miracle too.

[The second in a series on faithful eating.]

It’s becoming a trope among Christian food writers to wonder what Jesus would eat at a church potluck.

Would He eat the raspberries, flown from somewhere in Central America and picked by underpaid laborers? What about chicken injected with hormones? A meal like this is filled with ethical and nutritional landmines.

And Jello? Really? Would the creator of the original garden, and every garden since, eat something that doesn’t even resemble food as He imagined it, in color, texture, taste or benefit?

Would He worry if the green beans were local? Fret about the conditions they were harvested under? Think about the way the animals were treated? Would He count calories or fat grams or carbs?

And what about great-aunt Susie’s chicken, deep fried in trans-fats? She made it especially for Him, or for his Bride the church. Would He encourage her or scold her? Is this her widow’s mite, a humble, generous offering?

What about you, with your organic salad made from obscure designer lettuce and served with chemical-free home-made dressing? Does He praise your food or excoriate your pride? How far would He have to dig in your refrigerator to reveal your hypocrisies?

Personally, I think Aunt Susie wins here. He takes fried chicken with a little Jello on the side. Maybe some of your salad, just so you won’t feel slighted. He is rich in mercy. And maybe you did bring it as a gracious offering to the Lord.

This is the Man who ate with publicans and sinners. And He called the Pharisees out over and over again for their pretension and their pride. He wouldn’t see a potluck, where his people come together to be with each other, as a place for teaching about nutrition or social justice. He came to be with sinners, after all.

I’m not saying he wouldn’t be bothered by the ethical concerns that reflect our abuse of his creation, including our bodies. I just don’t think he would see the potluck as the right venue to address it. And frankly I think he would be more concerned with our heart than our diet. In fact he said so.

But food is a new legalism, one of many. And I doubt He would have much patience with it. The dietary laws of the Old Testament had become a stumbling block by the time he arrived. And the New Testament pretty much turns its restrictions on their heads (more in the next post).

Today’s dietary laws are no different. They’ve become an endless source of vanity, judgment and self-righteousness.

You know who you are.

Seriously.

Have some raspberries.

_________________________________________________________

[This begins a series on the ethics of food: how to pray over it, think about it and choose it, all without judging your neighbor or violating your conscience. Comment early and often.]

It’s my birthday today. I’m sixty years old. The big 6-O!

There was a winter storm last night, so we didn’t go out for dinner as we planned. I broiled some shrimp and scallops and was content to spend a quiet evening at home. I find myself content with silence more and more.

A colleague and his wife, my co-assistant pastor and my pastor of over 25 years and his wife joined Katie and me for lunch at the university. And they asked me what I’ve learned.

I’ve learned, and am learning, how to rest in the mercies of God. I’ve thought about grace a lot over the last two decades. I’ve thought quite a bit about the glory of God in the last ten years.

The relationship between the grace of God and the glory of God has occupied most of my theological reflection. We are dependent on His grace and He gets the glory. His grace alone sustains us, saves us, changes us.

But one thing I’m beginning to understand better is the mercy of God.

You see His mercies better looking back than looking forward. Any thoughtful reflection leads to the recognition of His sovereign care. His direction, His provision, His protection— we are humbled that He would use us at all, grateful that He would chose us as an object of His love.

At 60 you can rest and think about that. Perhaps you can even start to understand it.

I sometimes joke that by the end we are all Calvinist. But I don’t really mean this in any theological sense, only in the sense that the older we get the more clearly we see His hand, even in our greatest sorrows or failures.

I’ve had my share of losses. I was estranged from my daughter, and in some ways still am—at least in matter of the faith. I have a son whose choices sometimes keep me up at night. I have had reverses in my career and health. No reason or no way to list them all here.

But blessings too, too many to count: faithful friends, adorable grandchildren, a healthy church, a godly wife.

So we can have a cup of tea in the morning, resting completely in the mercies of God. So many things I can’t change, so many things I can’t do over, and yet He is Himself a quiet habitation, a sure foundation, a shelter in any storm.

In Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening today he writes about the children of Israel and their wanderings in Exodus:

They were never long in one place. Even wells and palm trees could not detain them. Yet they had an abiding home in their God, his pillar was their rooftree and its flame by night their household fire.

And later:

Let prospects be blighted, let hopes be blasted, let joy be withered, let mildew destroy everything; I have lost nothing of what I have in God, my strong habitation whereunto I continually resort.

Katie and I both wept. That’s it, really. In sixty years we are finally learning to rest in His mercy.

An abiding home is our God.

And it’s not the one on Cochran Rd.

Harken diligently unto me, and eat ye that which is good, and let your soul delight itself in fatness. Isaiah 55:2 (KJV)

My grandfather had started drinking before he came home from the war to find a wife who no longer wanted him and a country that no longer needed him.

He was a broken man long before I knew him, an itinerant carpenter and sometimes fisherman. He lived with several women, whom my parents euphemistically called his wives. Mostly he lived alone.

When he wasn’t drinking my parents would let me visit him.

I’m 12, standing by a canal in Naples, Florida, with Pop, fishing with a cast net. It’s cool, late afternoon. Maybe morning. We have a washtub, a large one, and we are filling it with fish.

Literally filling it, 30 or more good-sized mullet, 10 to 12 inches long. They run in schools along the sea wall, especially in cooler weather, and we haul them in with every cast, five or six at a time. In just a few minutes we have more fish than we can clean and store in his small freezer.

We walk back to his home, wherever that is. He is always moving. He carries three or four of the mullet into the kitchen, leaving the tub outside to take care of after dinner.

Or after breakfast. It doesn’t matter, really. The meals are indistinguishable. The same every time, except a fried egg or two in the morning.

We’ve only been gone half an hour. Grits are on the stove. Coffee too, thicker than mud. He has stirred an egg into the coffee pot, to separate the grounds that settle to the bottom.

Pop has filleted hundreds of mullet, and works quickly as the grease heats up. The gills are deep red, the eyes clear, the flesh translucent. He cuts off the section near the tail, a special, boneless treat, and runs his knife along the backbone of each side. He rolls the fish in flour and cornmeal and drops the fillet into the hot oil as it crackles and spatters on the stove.

As the fish are frying he beats cornmeal, onion, and milk together, and after setting the fish on a paper towel drops spoons full of batter into the hot grease. I clean up some dirty dishes from the sink and we sit down to eat. There is not a vegetable in the house. Not a green one, anyway.

The meal is perfect.

Somewhere my future wife is growing up in the Midwest, eating sweet corn a few minutes from the stalk. My corn is dried and coarsely ground, smothered with butter and salt.

But even today, almost fifty years removed from living by the gulf, I crave that fresh saltwater fish a few minutes from the bay—hot, juicy and oily, served with hush puppies. I think that’s what Jesus served his disciples on the shore of the Galilee, after the resurrection.

The disciples came ashore, with a tub full of fish, and John tells us: “When they landed, they saw a fire of burning coals there with fish on it, and some bread.”

“Come and have breakfast,” Jesus said.

It proved he was alive.

“Sit down and eat,” Pop said.

We marvel at the bounty of our feast. He says grace. We talk about the tides, about the catch, about the sea, as the oil runs down my chin.

And in that moment my grandfather was most alive to me, as broken as he was. There was not a moment when I loved him more, understood him better, or forgave him as much.

It is always so, at a common table, sharing a common grace. Food brings us together and points us to God, the giver of fish and bread.

And Christ, as perfect as He is, will be most alive to us when we feast with him at the Marriage Supper of the Lamb.

There will be fish.

_______________________________________________________
See also okra for lunch, just enough is plenty, what’s for lunch and simple summer suppers.
For more about my grandfather: In memoriam
_______________________________________________________

Fried Florida Mullet

• 1 large egg
• 1 teaspoon water
• 1/2 cup all-purpose flour
• 1/2 cup cornmeal
• 1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 1/2 teaspoon pepper
• 4 mullet fillets
• oil for frying

Heat oil to 375 degrees F in deep saucepan. Whisk together egg and water in a shallow dish. Combine flour, cornmeal, cayenne, salt and pepper; mix well. Dip fillets into egg wash, then into flour mixture to coat. Deep fry fish in hot oil for 4-5 minutes until fish is golden brown. Drain on a paper towel.

Hushpuppies

• 2 cups corn meal
• 2 teaspoons baking powder
• 1 teaspoon salt
• 1 1/2 cups sweet milk
• 1/2 cup water
• 1 large onion, chopped fine

Mix the dry ingredients together and add the milk and water. Stir in the chopped onion. Add more meal or milk as may be necessary to form a soft but workable dough. Drop by the spoonful in deep hot oil used to fry fish until well browned.

Photo by Amy Bahe.

I’m not sure I can say this often enough.

The weather was nicer then, sitting on our front porch sharing lunch. But it is still true, here in the dead of winter. And in your marriage, for better or worse, in sickness and health, for richer or poorer— it will always be true.

In fact it may be the most true, most important thing about your life together. God designed marriage to help us understand His covenant-keeping love and demonstrate it to the world around us. Paul tells us this in Ephesians—that the mystery of marriage is about Christ and the church.

It is not a mystery because we can’t understand it, although this will be something you study for the rest of your lives together. It is a mystery because we could not have expected it—it is so amazing that God would use fallen people like us to create an institution where grace and forgiveness and joy break through into every dimension of our life.

Like the church itself Rachel stands here chosen, set apart and loved. And Brian stands here ready to lay his life down for her and lead her toward the gates of heaven.

It’s almost a perfect picture of the gospel, except that all the characters are fallen— prone to self centeredness and pride. And so we enter marriage in awe, needy people totally dependent on the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ.

You will need Him every day. I’m not saying you will turn to Him every day. But you will more and more, as the years go by. And grace will abound. So as you start on this new adventure, I want to remind you of three things.

First, I remind you that you have a new office. Brian, you will be husband. Rachel, you will be wife. You will be these on your worst day, after your first fight, in your most overwhelming moment, during your most tragic and desperate days. Each office holds certain privileges, responsibilities, opportunities and obligations.

In every circumstance, you are still husband. You are still wife. Lots of things will change, but this will not change. This is your calling before God. Even on days you may not particularly like each other, you respect and honor the office that the other holds.

The Puritans often referred to a married woman as Goodwife. Rachel would not be Mrs. Rich, but Goodwife Rich. I like this, and I sometimes call my wife the colloquial version of this— Goodie Metts, as they did in colonial days.

Brian, Rachel may be many things to you— friend, lover, helper, companion, nurse, dietician. But she is this first. She is your good wife. This is the office she holds in the economy of God and the company of the saints. Honor this office, even when you are frustrated by the woman who holds it.

And Rachel this is your husband. Respect his office, try to understand what God requires of him, pray for him without nagging him. Even on the days he annoys you or disappoints you, he stands before God as your husband, and this by the Word of God.

In this way, we are told, Sarah honored her husband and called him Lord. She did this not because Abraham was perfect. She was able to do this, Scripture says, because she hoped in God.

Second I remind you that, as Peter puts it, you are now co-heirs of grace. You have no idea how much grace you will need and how much you will receive.

By grace you will learn to hold your tongue and by grace you will learn to encourage each other.

By grace you will learn to forgive each other, and by grace you will learn to admonish each other.

By grace you will become comfortable in silence and by grace you will sing together.

By grace you will confess your sins to each other, and by grace you will be patient when your partner can not yet do this.

By grace you will serve each other, and by grace you will suffer wounds your partner never recognized or understood. They will forget things that are important to you and say things you can not understand.

But as the grace of God is extended to you, you will extend grace to each other every day, perhaps a dozen times before breakfast.

You will do this, the text says, so that your prayer will not be hindered, as you seek the strength and wisdom and mercy of God.

And finally I remind you that you are now bound by covenant. This is important because marriage is a demonstration of God’s own covenant-keeping love.

So much of what we do today is based on ancient notions of covenant making. We gather before witnesses and share a meal, as the elders did on Sinai before Moses went up to receive the Law.

Rachel will change her name, as God changed the names of Abram, Sari, and Jacob.

And sacrifices will be made.

In ancient days these were blood sacrifices. In marriage these eventually these became dowries. Now there is a diamond, although we were hoping Dwayne and Pam would at least get a couple of goats out of this deal. I’m sure they will be happy with grandkids.

But the real sacrifice is you stand here at the altar and give yourself completely to each other. This is the essence of covenant making.

A covenant is more than a contract. It does not protect our interests, as a contract does. It surrenders them. You come here to surrender yourself to the interests of each other, and you do this by making an oath. There is no mingling of blood, but a mingling of purpose as God himself makes you one flesh.

Today you make covenant. Mark this well. A covenant is a sacrificial and solemn promise to give yourself, without reservation or restraint, freely and forever.

This is how God gives himself to us, and it is for this reason your marriage is an office of substance, a channel of grace, and a covenant that displays to a fallen world the glory of our God.

We try to get everyone together every other year, and there are some things you learn. Like that you have to go to the store everyday. This year we even got a second refrigerator. And a couple of extra beds.

But we have a large home, a literal gift from the Lord, and we share it often with others. And it’s especially nice to fill it with those you love most dearly and pray for most earnestly.

We’ve been staying up late playing Dominos as a host of childhood friends flow in and out, along with assorted aunts and uncles, all eager to see the kids and grandkids.

All of them live out of state. Seattle. Tallahassee. Chicago. I’ve only seen the 9-month-old, named after me, once. And before this week I had never seen 8-month-old baby Nathan.

With our own children, we see the dynamics of their childhood. We see better who they are, with persistent weaknesses and expanding virtues. I like it that they are better at what they are good at—more generous and forgiving and patient.

We home schooled our children, and our kids have spent more time together than most. And their relationships are honest, sometimes confrontational, but solid. I like knowing that if something happens to me they will take care of each other. Or, if necessary, their mom.

We are also finally and slowly getting to know the kind of people they married. And we see them with growing gratitude, thankfully getting to know and appreciate us as well.

The grandchildren are beautiful, of course, even though the two 3-year-olds put up quite a fuss about family pictures.

But we don’t yet know any of them well. The oldest of the seven is just now 7—and we see only glimpses of the particular strengths of each. And the weakness as well. We have no delusions about their fallenness. Or about our own.

But it is a season of joy. And grace. It seems fitting to be surrounded by babies and laughter. And it seems more fitting to be together, bonded by blood and choice, reflecting the depth of love and resting in the mercy of God.

Tabitha, the oldest grandchild, lit the last Advent candle at dinner tonight. I read from I Corinthians 4:6 that we “see the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ.” And from Romans 5 that “while we were enemies we were reconciled to God.”

On this quiet evening, I pray that this reconciliation, and this glory, will bind us more and more.

And that all my family will see this clearly in the face of Jesus Christ.

Thanks to daughter-in-law Ann Metts for the photos.

Most of my readers know I have an academic as well as personal interest in St. Nicholas, and have recently published a book about his life: the Santa Papers: the unauthorized autobiography of Nicholas of Myra.

If you would like to order it from my e-store today, you can get 25% off using this code:BG3HAAQQ

I’ve written about him on my blog before, and will, I’m sure, again. And next Monday, December 10, at 7:00 p.m., I’ll be reading from the book at the Prop Shop on the campus of Spring Arbor University where I teach. $5 admission includes a free copy of the paperback or the new audio book.

But since I have so much to say about him, and there are so many ways for you to read or hear what I’ve said, today I’m reposting a guest blogger, St. Thomas Aquinas. It’s a sermon on the Feast of Saint Nicholas from around 1270 A.D. You can find the sermon here.

The text is Psalm 88:21-22: I have discovered David my servant; with my holy oil I have anointed him; my hand will help him, and my arm will strengthen him.

Aquinas compares the way God discovered, anointed and helped David to his selection, elevation and ministry through Nicholas of Myra, a 4th century pastor.

And remember to get your Saint Nicholas / Santa fix today. Christmas is about Someone Else.

————————
Let us then look at what it [the text from Psalm 88:21-22] says: I have discovered David my servant; and here we can consider four ways of understanding a discovery. A discovery implies rarity, investigation, disclosure, and conviction from experience.

First, I say that a discovery implies rarity, because rare things are said to be discovered. It would be laughable to say: “I discovered people on the Little Bridge.” But what is rare is said to be discovered, as we see in Proverbs (31:10) where it is asked: Who shall discover a strong woman? as if to say, only with difficulty is a strong woman to be found because a woman is naturally delicate and frail.

Secondly, things sought for are said to be discovered, as it says in Proverbs (2:4): If you will seek for it as [other men seek for] money, you will find it, namely divine knowledge. Moreover, the Gospel speaks about a woman searching for a lost coin, until she finds it (Lk. 15:8).

Thirdly, a discovery implies disclosure, as we read in the Gospel: The kingdom of heaven is like the head of a household searching for a treasure hidden in a field; when he finds it, he goes and sells all that he has, etc. (Mt. 13:44). When a treasure is brought forth from the earth and shown to others, then it is said to have been discovered.

Fourthly, a discovery implies conviction from experience. When a person doubts something and afterwards comes to know it with certainty, he declares: “I have discovered this to be so.”

The Lord discovered blessed Nicholas in these ways.

First, He discovered in him something very rare, namely, virtue in the prime of his youth, which is rare among youths; hence it says in Proverbs: Youth and pleasure are vain. This is a rara avis, namely, that as a youth he was not subject to vanity; and because blessed Nicholas preserved his holiness from childhood, he is said to have been discovered. For he himself “while still a little boy used to afflict his body with much fasting.” Also the saying in Hosea (9:10) [comes to mind]: I discovered Israel like grapes in the desert, I discovered the sons of Israel as first fruits of the fig tree. The fig ripens later than other fruits, but if it ripens in prime season it is said to be discovered.“

Likewise, children who preserve their holiness from childhood are called the first fruits of a fig tree and are said to be discovered, and this is pleasing to God; thus in Micah [we read] (7:1): My soul desired the first ripe figs. Fish and fruit in season are very much desired; so, too, very desirable to God is the man who carries the Lord’s yoke from his youth, as is said in Lamentations (3:27): It will be good for a man, when he has borne the Lord’s yoke from his youth, because a young man shall walk according to his way, even when he is old he will not depart from it (Prov. 22:6). At the same time, if such as these should depart from the path of holiness, they return to it more easily.

Secondly, the Lord discovers in blessed Nicholas what He seeks. And what does the Lord seek? Surely, He seeks a faithful soul, hence [we read] in John (4:24): God is spirit, and those who worship Him must worship Him in spirit and in truth. And why does God seek out the man with a faithful soul? I say: whoever takes delight in dwelling with another person seeks out that person. So it is with God, because it gives Him delight to dwell with a faithful soul. Hence He says: My delights are to be with the children of men (Prov. 8:31). And God discovered in blessed Nicholas a faithful soul, because he was frequently in church, faithfully at his prayers; so, what is said in Hosea (12:4) is suitably said of him: He wept and made supplication to Him, and He discovered him in Bethel. Bethel means “the house of God.” Notice how rightly it is said that He discovered David, for David possessed great virtues from his youth: he slew a bear and a lion, he was preferred over all his brothers, and he was also most devout. The Psalmist says: As with the marrow and fat, that is, of devotion, let my soul be filled (Ps. 62:6)30; and Sirach (47:1): As the fat taken away from the flesh, thus was David separated from among the children of Israel. And blessed Nicholas was eminently holy.

Thirdly, the Lord discovered in blessed Nicholas something outstanding, namely a pious affection. What makes a person stand out? I say that nothing makes a person so outstanding as piety and a ready will to do good for others. God is hidden in Himself, yet He is revealed to us through the benefits He grants. So, in Sirach it is said about those who show pity toward others: These were men of mercy, whose pious deeds have not failed (44:10), and the church declares their praise (44:15). And in another place it says: The lips of many will praise him who gives freely of his bread (Sir. 31:28).

Blessed Nicholas was especially “sympathizing with and showing pity from his heart toward the afflicted,” and indeed having given them gold, he relieved the poverty of virgins. Thus, what Hosea (14:9) says can be applied to him: From me is his fruit discovered. And this is why the Lord says rightly: I discovered David, my servant. A servant is one who carries out his lord’s work; and the principal work of the Lord is mercy, as the Psalmist says: And His tender mercies are over all His works (Ps. 144:9). Therefore, the Lord’s servant is the one who exercises mercy toward the poor. As the Apostle says: We are servants for Jesus’ sake (2 Cor. 4:5).

Fourthly, the Lord discovered in blessed Nicholas something tested by experience, namely faithfulness, which is greatly sought after; thus the Apostle says: Now what is sought after in stewards, except that a man be found faithful? (1 Cor. 4:2); and the Book of Wisdom (3:5) says: He tested them, and found them worthy of Himself. A faithful man must be a servant, so that he refers all that is his to God.

You pray, you perform works of mercy, whatever kind of good you do, it is necessary that you should refer it to God. Hence it is said: He has been tested in this, and was found perfect (Sir. 31:10). Blessed Nicholas is such a man, and for that reason he is called my servant (Ps. 88:21). Many people, on the other hand, do not serve the Lord but themselves; as the Apostle puts it: They that are such serve not Christ but their own belly (Rom. 16:18). If you are doing good in order to get prebends, you are serving yourself, not God.

A good bishop ought not to be like these sorts of people, but rather he ought to be upright [innocens] in his own person, devout before God, merciful to his neighbor, faithful in all things in respect to everyone.