Tomorrow

 

    "The sun'll come out ... Tomorrow" promises a
song popular a few years ago.  "Bet your bottom dollar, That tomorrow, There'll
be sun!" continues the lyric, meant to signify both innocence and optimism.  But
"tomorrow" is most often appealed to not in hope but as an excuse.  Rare indeed
is the wife or mother who has never found cause to reject the assurance "I'll
clean it tomorrow."  Few bosses (or customers) have escaped the empty promise
"It'll be ready tomorrow."  As the old saying goes, "Tomorrow never
comes."

 

    A brief study of Scripture's use of the word
"tomorrow" reveals an interesting trend: in a great many instances, the word is
associated with warnings or promises of destruction.  The plagues of Egypt tend
to come and go on that word [Exodus 8,9 and 10]; Joshua is told that the
Canaanite kings gathered at Merom would be destroyed "tomorrow." [Joshua 11:6] 
When Judah seemed about to be attacked during the reign of Jehoshaphat, the Lord
informs His people that it is the enemy who will perish -- tomorrow. [2 Chron.
20:17]  In Isaiah false leaders are strongly rebuked for their presumptive claim
that "Tomorrow will be as today, And much more abundant." [Isaiah 56:12]  And
that really is the problem most of the time we use the word -- we promise
"tomorrow" presuming we will be granted one.

 

    It is this sin of presumption against which
James warns us in James 4:14-14: "Come now, you who say, "Today or tomorrow we
will go to such and such a city, spend a year there, buy and sell, and make a
profit"; whereas you do not know what will happen tomorrow. For what is your
life? It is even a vapor that appears for a little time and then vanishes
away."  The Proverbs present a related injunction, "Do not say to your neighbor,
'Go, and come back, And tomorrow I will give it,' When you have it with you"
[Proverbs 3:28], reminiscent of the familiar "do not put off until tomorrow what
you can do today."  We are even told "Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for
tomorrow will worry about its own things." [Matthew 6:34]  "Tomorrow" is
off-limits, both for intentions and for worries.

 

    We cannot promise tomorrow, any more than we
can change the past.  "Today" -- this day -- is all that is within our grasp,
and Today is where God directs our attention.  "Choose for yourselves this day
whom you will serve," the people are told as they are about to take possession
of the Promised Land.  Boaz is commended for his reputation as a man who "will
not rest until he has concluded the matter this day." [Ruth 3:18]  In Psalm
97:7,8 we read "For He is our God, And we are the people of His pasture, And the
sheep of His hand. Today, if you will hear His voice: 'Do not harden your hearts
...'"  The writer to the Hebrews warns "exhort one another daily, while it is
called "Today" [Hebrews 3:13].  And to the repentant thief on the cross, Jesus
proclaims "Assuredly, I say to you, today you will be with Me in Paradise."
[Luke 23:43]

 

    How easy it is to delay that little task, to
set aside that phone call or visit, to promise tomorrow what we should do
today.  Are we too busy to volunteer?  "Maybe tomorrow..."  Is someone counting
on us?  "Tomorrow -- they'll understand..."  Is there someone we should thank,
or encourage, or perhaps forgive?  A card to send, a letter to write?  Why not
do it now, "while it is called 'Today?'"  The Lord may have other plans for our
tomorrow.

 

"Do not boast about tomorrow, For you do not know
what a day may bring forth." [Proverbs 27:1]

Gary Fisher

Winning the War
============
 
    The roots of the war are planted so deeply that few, even experts, can define them.  It can be traced vaguely to the Middle East, where it has raged during much of the region's history, but by the time it was noticed outside that area the enemy had already become embedded throughout the world.  It was a war we did not want, for years a one-sided war in which the attackers went unrepelled while the victims remained unable or unwilling to identify the cause, much less to mount an effective defense.  For a long time, the only response was to care as best we could for the survivors; the maimed became a familiar sight yet the enemy was addressed only case-by-case.  Some went so far as to blame the victims for their own condition.
 
    The escalation of the war occurred first in Europe, but when some three thousand died in North America, it finally became clear, at least to some, that pre-emptive measures were not only justified but necessary, and at last the undeclared war being fought against us was responded to in kind.
 
    Many measures were tried, but after partial success had been won, it seemed as though little further progress was likely or, a growing number of naysayers asserted, even possible.  Yet as the casualties continued to mount, there were a few who stood up to pressure from those who felt the cost was too high or the cause too futile and instead proposed a redoubled effort to overcome the ancient enemy.  An enervated public pressured reluctant officials to continue and even increase support for the courageous but risky proposal, and in time all but the most bitter opponents quietly admitted the effort was working, the attacks had been sharply reduced and the enemy contained.
 
    Yet the war goes on.  Though attacks within the United States have been virtually eliminated since war was declared, the enemy continues to function elsewhere, where at times the battle rages, claiming innocent victims every year.  In Afghanistan, Pakistan and a few other countries the enemy still operates openly and attacks regularly, but even in those countries where the fighting has been suppressed, the defense effort continues, for unlike political wars which have clearly defined endings, the war against polio continues.
 
    Were you thinking of some other war?  The war against cancer, perhaps, or against ignorance, or perhaps even the War on Terror?  All those and more fall into the category of ongoing -- and necessary -- efforts, wars against threats to all mankind and yet wars which cannot, in the conventional sense, be "won."  There will be no Appomattox Courthouse surrender forthcoming from a virus, no "11th Hour, Day and Month" armistice signed and honored by poverty, and no ultimate capitulation will be won from or against terrorism.  These wars, while historic, cannot be reduced to a few easily memorized beginning and ending dates.
 
This sort of war is not an event, but a commitment.
 
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Gary Fisher

The Christmas Psalms
================

The Bible records or refers to many songs, from the Song of Moses [Deut. 32], the Song of Simeon [Luke 2], the Song of Mary [Luke 1] and of course the song of the angels over Bethlehem, to the glorious songs of the saints and angels in the Revelation. [Rev. 5:9, Rev. 14:3, etc.] By far the richest store of songs found in Holy Scripture, however, is the 150 songs recorded in the Book of Psalms.

Particularly given by God for use in worship, the Psalms have been sung whenever God's people gathered from the time they were first composed, through both the glory and the captivity of Israel, through the intertestamental period and even at the Last Supper (the "hymn" mentioned in Mark 14:26 is generally recognized to have been the traditional closing of the Passover Liturgy, Psalms 115-118). Unlike the ceremonial practices of the Old Covenant, though, the singing of Psalms in worship continued undiminished throughout the development of the New Testament Church.

Over the centuries both the visible Church and public worship became corrupted, eventually all but replacing the Psalms with songs more suited to exciting the senses than building up the soul, but with the Reformation this quickly changed. While hymns remained important in Reformed worship -- Martin Luther himself composed several, including "A Mighty Fortress Is Our God" [based on Psalm 46, by the way] -- the Psalms reclaimed their position of primary importance. John Calvin insisted on their use, as have most thoughtful Calvinists since. In faithful Reformed and Presbyterian churches to this day, it is customary and frequently required that the Psalms guide our praise in worship. In the Church Order of the United Reformed Churches in North America, Article 39 states that "The 150 Psalms shall have the principal place in the singing of the churches." Other denominations have adopted similar restrictions, most derived from Article 69 of the 1618-1619 Dordt Church Order.

But as November draws to a close each year, an odd thing occurs in many of these churches. Where three or four Psalms might be sung within a church service during most of the year, as December 25 approaches fewer and fewer Psalms seem to find their place in the Liturgy. In many churches, hardly a Psalm is sung in the entire month of December, at least until the last worship service of the year. As one Minister explained, "There simply aren't any Christmas Psalms." The "topical index" of the Psalter Hymnal seems to bear out the dilemma, as all music related to "Christmas" or "Advent" is taken from outside the Psalms.

One might well ask how a Christian celebration could exist for which God had apparently made no provision, and in fact a significant segment of Christianity, including many of the most insightful theologians of the past five hundred years, questions or flatly denies the legitimacy of this celebration borrowed from pagan precedents. But there is neither question nor disagreement that the incarnation of Christ, the Word made flesh, is among the most significant events in redemption history, not merely deserving but requiring our praise. And for this, the Psalms fulfill our need, in particular (though surely not exclusively!) those which are called "the Messianic Psalms" because they speak of, or were quoted by, our Lord.

How, for instance, can we not see the birth of Christ in the second Psalm? "I have set my King to reign" and "Thou art My beloved Son," our Psalter leads us to sing (Psalter Hymnal #3). See how Psalm 45 (PsH#82) speaks of God among us! The promise of David's son coming into the world (Psalm 89) is the theme of Psalter Hymnal #169. Psalm 110, Psalm 118; so many of the Psalms guide us in praise as we contemplate Immanuel. Whether they speak of His coming, His ministry, His work of redemption, or His eternal reign, it may be that all 150 are, seen aright, the "Christmas" Psalms.

"Then make a joyful noise before Him, O all ye earth, His praises sing; With loud acclaim let all adore Him And let the joyful anthems ring." [Psalm 98, Psalter Hymnal #191]

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Gary Fisher

The Divine Invention of Rest

We're all familiar with the history of creation as summarized in the Mosaic Law -- "For in six days the Lord made the heavens and the earth, the sea, and all that is in them, and rested the seventh day. Therefore the Lord blessed the Sabbath day and hallowed it." [Exodus 20:11] But there's a curious aspect -- some have even called it an anomaly -- in the detailed narrative of Genesis, which frames and underlines the creation account.

Newton's First Law is known to every High School science student -- "Every object in a state of uniform motion tends to remain in that state of motion unless an external force is applied to it." Sometimes this is shortened to "An object in motion will remain in motion, and an object at rest will remain at rest, unless acted upon by an external force." We call it "the law of inertia," and it is involved in everything from crankshafts to spacecraft. It is inertia which keeps a bowling ball rolling until it strikes the backstop, and keeps the pins standing still until the ball imparts motion and scatters them. It is inertia which keeps an arrow moving to its mark, and inertia which holds the target in place when it is struck. Inertia, in conjunction with gravity, keeps planets in their orbits and stones on the ground.

Although Newton codified the law of inertia and thereby named it, he was hardly the first to notice its effects. Two thousand years earlier, philosophers such as Plato identified the need for that which moves to have been moved by some other force, a principle he called "imparted motion." Aristotle realized that as each moving object had itself been moved, all motion must begin with a "Prime Mover." Theologian Thomas Aquinas, five centuries before Newton, studied Aristotle's works and realized that this "Prime Mover," this "first cause, Himself uncaused" (Latin: primum movens immobile) had to be God Himself, "for in Him we live and move and have our being ..." [Acts 17:28]. But the law of inertia asserts not only that motion must at some point be imparted; it also demands that something already in motion cannot come to rest without the application of some external force.

The opening chapters of Genesis, like all of Scripture, are God-breathed, infallible and inerrant. The first chapter relates the six days, each with a morning and an evening, in which God created all things. The chapter concludes with the words, "Then God saw everything that He had made, and indeed it was very good. So the evening and the morning were the sixth day." [Gen. 1:31] The creation of "things" has concluded; the second chapter opens "Thus the heavens and the earth, and all the host of them, were finished." [Gen. 2:1] But the following verse, Genesis 2:2, may be faithfully translated "And on the seventh day God finished his work that he had done, and he rested on the seventh day from all his work that he had done." Another translation renders the verse "And God completed on the seventh day His work that He did, and He abstained on the seventh day from all His work that He did." Looking closely, it seems this verse is telling us that, while God's creation of *things* ended with the close of the sixth day, some aspect of creation was "completed" or "finished" on the seventh.

"An object in motion will remain in motion unless acted upon by an external force." The first six days of creation were filled with motion as the heavens were arrayed, the oceans filled, the world populated. Everything had been called into being and set in motion by "the unmoved mover," and at the end of the sixth day the entire history of the created universe was one of motion. And then, on the seventh day, the work of creation was completed, finished, framed and illustrated by that which only God could impart -- rest. God hallowed that day, the day of rest, the day when He could declare of creation -- as He did years later of salvation -- that "it is finished!" And to this day, across the world and throughout the generations, believers have kept that one day in seven apart as the emblem, the reminder, the setting of God's creation and sustenance of everything. If we view that hallowed day of rest as nothing more than a time for our own physical, or even spiritual, refreshment, we have missed an important point and a great blessing, for the Sabbath is, in effect, God's signature upon the works of His hand.

"So God blessed the seventh day and made it holy, because on it God rested from all his work that he had done in creation." [Gen. 2:3]

_________
Gary Fisher

To Know

======

From the time of man's first appearance on earth, one of his most fundamental desires has been to know. Adam's first task was to give each animal the name by which it would be known, and sin entered the world through Eve's wish to know as God knew. Throughout history, mankind has wavered along this division between what can and cannot be known, often mistaking the one for the other. Much of the early portion of Genesis deals with this fitful development of human knowledge, emphasized in Cain's descendants who came both to know and to teach architecture, music and crafts (Gen. 4:16-22), culminating with the desire not only to know but to be known in the building of the Tower of Babel (Gen. 11:4).

True science and what Paul referred to as "science falsely so-called" (1 Tim. 6:20 KJV) have continued their uneasy waltz ever since, science legitimately laboring to fulfill our stewardly mandate to subdue the Earth and have dominion over it (Gen. 1:28) against the mocking pantomime which proudly claims to "know" what it does not understand. The claim of "sure knowledge" has long been recognized as a characteristic of false science, for true science always leaves room for further, and occasionally conflicting, understanding which might improve, or even refute, the results of previous observation. Where scientific charletans might make bold assertions, true science advances hypotheses and adopts theories.

Yet for both, the underlying principle is the same -- a search for the best explanation of that which is sensed -- seen. heard, etc. -- and measured.

Historically, this model developed into the concept of "keeping appearances," not in the sense of false show but rather as an interpretation or model which described that which appeared to be true. The Greeks developed many such models, some of which were superseded in their own times, others of which lasted well into and past the middle ages, and others which remain with us today. Among the most influential of these models was the astronomy of Ptolemy, which built on the observations and theories of such previous scientists as Aristotle and Hipparchus. Ptolemy's models explained what could be seen -- "kept appearances" -- to the extent that the positions of stars and planets and even the occurrance of eclipses could be predicted with remarkable accuracy. Pragmatically, Ptolemy's astronomy "worked," yet true science understood it not as sure knowledge but as a good working hypothesis. When Galileo, much later, presented a better model based largely on better observations, the resistance he met was primarily centered not on the fact that he had in essense overturned much of Ptolemaic astronomy, but on his insistance that his astronomy was not just a better theory but was instead settled truth -- that he did not merely believe he had the correct interpretation, but that he "knew" it to be so. Later science, especially since Einstein, has justified the reticence of those who encouraged Galileo to adopt a more humble attitude, for while most of his astronomy and cosmology still fit the observed facts, still "keep appearances," in some things he has been proved wrong.

We live today in a world which has all but forgotten the humility required of true science. Especially in the fields of biology and climatology, bold claims of "knowledge" are asserted as though nothing more remains to be discovered or accounted for. In biology, the rash and unquestioning support of general evolution has leto many embarassments, such as the frequent discovery of species "known" to have evolved out of existence in the distant past. But there is nothing humorous in the offspring of evolutionism, both in the restrictions it has placed on true scientific inquiry and in the artificial evolutionism of the eugenics movement, the murderous progenitor of the German Holocaust, of "ethnic cleansing," of abortion, euthenasia and so much more of the culture of death. Climatology, once the science of weather, is now slinking into the same dark territory, claiming certain knowledge of that which it is at a loss to accurately predict. The worldwide cult of Global Warming has done more to restrict true science than anything ever shown of Galileo's opponents, enlisting public policy to its cause where scientific proof is lacking, enacting oppressive policies against those who contradict it, and threatening to plunge the world into a new dark age of superstition and chaos on the basis of what it claims to "know." "Science falsely so-called" is upon us.

Observation and the honest inquiry of legitimate science can do much to aid us in understanding, carrying the humble but serious along that path of the cultural mandate. As our confessions explain, the "book" of nature can teach us much. True knowledge, however, is the province of God, and must depend on our faith in Him and His Word. We can never truly know nature and science until we truly know God in Christ.

"For I know that my Redeemer lives, And He shall stand at last on the earth; And after my skin is destroyed, this I know, That in my flesh I shall see God ..." (Job 19:25-26)

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Gary Fisher