Accordingly, though I am bold enough in Christ to command you to do what is required, yet for love’s sake I prefer to appeal to you…

(Philemon 8-9)

There are many differences between the Law of Moses and the New Covenant with Christ.  We could consider the importance of physical lineage, or the undying connection to a rather minuscule plot of land, or the dietary restrictions, or the pattern of animal sacrifices, or the earthly place of worship; and we’d be far from exhausting our options!  But perhaps the greatest distinction between the Old and the New is less easily pinned down.  We can get a glimpse of it by considering God’s method of enforcing his instructions in each one.  “Anyone who has set aside the law of Moses dies without mercy on the evidence of two or three witnesses” (He 10.28).  This was not, of course, the penalty for every infraction, but it represents the end, or extreme, of its foundational principles.  What about “the new and living way” (v20)?  The author of Hebrews doesn’t give a straightforward answer on that, but instead poses a rhetorical question:

How much worse punishment, do you think, will be deserved by the one who has trampled underfoot the Son of God, and has profaned the blood of the covenant by which he was sanctified, and has outraged the Spirit of grace?

(Hebrews 10.29)

After leaving us to contemplate the seriousness of rejecting God’s grace, he gives us a final hint, before moving on: “It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God” (v31).  He’s talking about being sent to hell—an eternal punishment.

Of course, both we and the author of Hebrews recognize that death was not the end of the line for the Jews of old.  But the point is that God didn’t tell them much about what lay beyond the grave; their system was centered on their perception of the physical realm.  Despite living in the same physical world, we are entrusted with much more information, enabling us to look beyond and see glimpses of its spiritual  underpinnings. 

This shift, from a physical outlook to a spiritual one, is among the major distinctions between the Old and New ways; but as it pertains to our eternal destiny, whether each one of us will rest in God’s house forever, or be banished to the outer darkness, the difference is less obvious.  Moses and Elijah faced the same options as we do.  And yet, while this physical life continues, God uses a very different tactic to effect our obedience to his will, today.

Many—in fact, most, of God’s basic, moral expectations of us are unchanged from those of the ancient Israelites, not to mention their Gentile neighbors.  But for his chosen, special people, God instituted a system that would enforce his rules ruthlessly, punishing many infractions by death, and requiring the governing authorities to enforce the rest, with the implicit threat of violence standing back in the shadows, as an offense might escalate from a property dispute between neighbors, to open rebellion against the powers instituted by God.  The idea was that, if you have the threat of death looming over you at every moment, you’ll behave.  It seems like it would work, but it really didn’t.  The best that one could hope, under the Law of Moses, was to avoid being convicted of a grave sin and executed.  And yet, despite the bar being set so low, transgressions abounded.  Even if the rate of conviction was low, most sins deserving swift and harsh punishment went unnoticed or ignored.

In contrast to this, Jesus introduced a different set of assumptions.  The best you can hope to do, having been freed from the yoke of sin, is to go above and beyond any reasonable expectation.  “And if anyone forces you to go one mile, go with him two miles” (Mt 5.41).  This idea is revolutionary, but we often fail to grasp its full extent.  Jesus is not merely replacing one unreasonable requirement with another.  The Romans graciously granted themselves the privilege of compelling their conquered subjects to drop whatever petty and meaningless tasks occupied them—like gathering food for their hungry families, for instance—and press them into service, albeit briefly, to carry any burden required, up to a distance of one mile.  This was legal, inasmuch as the rulers decreed it; but the question whether it was just is entirely different.  It’s easy to imagine how anyone thus drafted into service would resent the Roman oppressors, and only grudgingly obey.  Rather than giving hatred a home in your heart, Jesus says, instead, to volunteer additional service in such circumstances! 

But there’s a hitch.  The Roman soldier compelled you to go one mile; but Jesus’ commandment means he’s actually forcing you to go two!  But if you’re forced to go two miles, shouldn’t you then go four?  Or eight?  Or sixteen?  You can see how quickly this becomes absurd.  Is Jesus’ instruction incoherent?  No; but we’re reading it wrong, by making it into just another form of compulsion.  The point is to go beyond what is expected, and not to impose that as a new, rigid benchmark.  Under the Law of Moses, the best one could hope was to live up to the standard.  Jesus encourages you to exceed it, instead.  This is why Paul, although he could have given Philemon a direct instruction as an Apostle, chose instead to persuade him.  It’s so much more meaningful, when good deeds well up from a loving heart, rather than fear.  While a day of judgment is coming, Jesus prefers to appeal to you, rather than compel you into his service, “in order that your goodness might not be by compulsion but of your own accord” (Phm 14).

Jeremy Nettles

“So whatever you wish that others would do to you, do also to them, for this is the Law and the Prophets.”

(Matthew 7.12)

Serving as the conclusion to Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount, this surprisingly straightforward summary of God’s commandments, both under the Law of Moses and in our new covenant with Christ, has been called “the golden rule” since at least the 17^th century.  Jesus here makes it explicit that this principle underpins the rest of the Law—at least, the portions that dealt with the Israelites’ behavior toward others.  We could appeal instead to another foundational principle for their conduct toward God: “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your might” (De 6.5)  Since this golden rule is just a restating of Leviticus 19.18, “you shall love your neighbor as yourself,” we can say that between the golden rule and the commandment to love God, everything is covered—as Jesus himself said, in Matthew 22.40. 

And yet, you may have noticed that the celebrated golden rule is usually worded a little differently: “do unto others as you would have them do unto you.”  It doesn’t appear in exactly those words, in any of the major translations of the Bible; but it is an accurate retelling of what Jesus said?  Yes; however, the emphasis strikes us differently, when we stop to consider both versions; and this forms a good exercise for us to explore the facets of what is, by all appearance, a very simple and straightforward rule from the mouth of God’s own Son.

Do unto others…

When we read these words first, it gets us thinking about what, exactly, we are doing to other people.  It’s as if our conscience has stumbled upon a story that’s already in progress, and now it must judge our present behavior.  What exactly am I doing?

Considering the rule from this angle, we ask ourselves, would I want this person to treat me as I am currently treating him?  That’s a good question to ask!  We’re supposed to “examine” and “test” ourselves (2Co 13.5), and a quick confirmation of this sort can confirm to us that we are pleasing God, when we affirm that we would, indeed, appreciate being on the receiving end of our own behavior.

Of course, the answer isn’t always affirmative!  We must also consider the negative.  If we discover that our behavior is out of line, we must cease and desist!  This is the prohibitive side of the rule, and is neatly summed up in the words every parent has spoken to his child, “would you like it if he did that to you?  Then don’t do it to him!” 

Of course, these two ways of looking at the rule amount to the same thing; but we must consider both the positive and negative application of the rule, in order to have the whole picture, and abide by Jesus’ word.  Already, this twofold approach is helpful; but we still have to consider the un-simplified version of the rule, as Jesus himself stated it.

As you would have them do unto you…

Jesus didn’t begin with a consideration of our own deeds; rather, he first pointed us to consider the actions of others.  This isn’t supposed to be merely a way to sort our actions into those which we ought to stifle, and those we may continue.  The golden rule does tell us to stop and consider what we’re already doing; but it also tells us to weigh our impulses, and make a decision before we act.

Perhaps someone mistreats you, saying hurtful things to you—or worse, about you.  Perhaps you’ve been the victim of theft, or just have a cantankerous neighbor who makes life difficult.  Your natural impulse is to choose a course of action that’s likely to make that person stop behaving in this way.  Sometimes that means you want to hide and just hope the problem goes away; it rarely does.  Next, you’re inclined to find a way to hurt whoever is hurting you.  Perhaps this involves direct confrontation; or perhaps it instead comes in the form of manipulation behind the scenes.  You could try give the sinner an equal dose of his own medicine; or you could deliberately escalate the conflict to make sure he will never, ever do something to hurt you again.  Unless, of course, he does; and what comes, next?  Rather than following these lower impulses, you should stop and consider the golden rule—regardless of how you actually are being treated, do you want to be treated that way?  If not, then you shouldn’t do it to someone else—even someone who has harmed you.  “Do not repay evil for evil” (1Pe 3.9).

But we still haven’t arrived at the highest application of Jesus’ instruction.  The golden rule isn’t just supposed to keep you from harming others, or else provide you with positive reinforcement when you treat them well.  It’s supposed to plant seeds of love, that will sprout and blossom into deeds you otherwise would not have done.  What sort of actions did Jesus tell you to take?  He first told you to contemplate “whatever you wish that others would do to you,” even when they don’t do it.  Perhaps we should say, especially when they don’t.  This is what it means to love your neighbor. 

“But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be sons of your Father who is in heaven. For he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust. For if you love those who love you, what reward do you have? Do not even the tax collectors do the same?”

(Matthew 5.44-46)

Jeremy Nettles

“For if you forgive others their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you, but if you do not forgive others their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses.”

(Matthew 6.14-15)

We like to keep things simple, but we are endlessly bombarded with an immense amount of sensory information.  This includes current states of being like pain or pleasure; as well as memories of previous experience, like the appearance of your seventh-grade English teacher, which some words on a screen were able to call to your mind; and also our imagination, which makes use of the same faculties to consider unrealized ideas.

Let’s focus on our sense of sight.  Roughly half of your brain is used in processing visual information.  In fact, when your eyes are open, almost two-thirds of the neural activity in your brain is devoted to vision.  We see a constant barrage of information, and most of it is utterly irrelevant.  Test it out.  Without the aid of a mirror, you can still see the tip of your nose, can’t you?  Now consider your horizontal field of view—without moving your head or eyes, you can see roughly 210º, out of a 360º circle.  Your visual acuity drops the farther you get from the center of the field, but you’re still collecting a mind-bogglingly huge amount of information, and your brain updates it constantly—a gross oversimplification would be to say that your brain processes, at the very least, about 30 “frames” each second, and perhaps many more.  This is a staggering amount of information.  We have to sort the things that matter from the things that can be ignored, just as you ignore that you can see your nose.

When we introduce other people into the mix, life gets even more complicated, because they’re all acting in ways that we have to sort out and categorize in our minds.  When they hurt us, or behave in ways of which we disapprove, the simplest thing for us to do, is to move that person from one mental category to another—from “benign” to “dangerous”—and then treat that person accordingly.  This is incredibly useful to us.  We don’t have the time or resources to give each person a fair assessment at every moment, and then decide again whether to tolerate interaction with that person, during which we might end up on the receiving end of his bad behavior.  If your brother steals from you, why should you allow him to do so again?  Sure, you could reason that perhaps there are extenuating circumstances, or contrition, and that your relationship with your brother is valuable enough to accept the risk of a repeat offense, signing up to have to scrutinize his demeanor and actions more closely, for the remainder of your lives.  But it’s easier to move your brother from the mental category of “trustworthy and helpful,” to that of “too dangerous,” sever the relationship, and move on with your life.

There is great utility in writing sinners off.  It keeps life relatively simple, and frees you up to devote your attention to other matters, like where your next meal is coming from, or how to achieve a long-term goal, or whether a different, as yet uncategorized person presents a mortal threat to you, or is just a helpful grocery story bagger.  But God isn’t primarily concerned with what’s useful in our fleshly pursuits, is he?  Each human being is made in God’s image, and each immortal soul carries incalculable value.  Paul tells us,

we must all appear before the judgment seat of Christ, so that each one may receive what is due for what he has done in the body, whether good or evil.

(2 Corinthians 5.10)

As we dole out little judgments in this life, categorizing the people around us as “good” or “bad,” the prospect of our own day in God’s court may not frighten us, until we realize that we, too, have done evil deeds, as it is written, “Surely there is not a righteous man on earth who does good and never sins” (Ec 7.20).  What’s to stop God from treating us in exactly the same fashion as we have treated others, putting us with the goats, rather than the sheep (Mt 25.32), and sending us into the outer darkness forever? 

Praise the Lord!  He sent his Son as a sacrifice, to bear the penalty for our sins, and give his own sinless life in exchange for ours!  Despite the evil we’ve done, God is willing to forgive us!  What will we do with that forgiveness? 

“So the servant fell on his knees, imploring him, ‘Have patience with me, and I will pay you everything.’ And out of pity for him, the master of that servant released him and forgave him the debt. But when that same servant went out, he found one of his fellow servants who owed him a hundred denarii, and seizing him, he began to choke him, saying, ‘Pay what you owe.’ So his fellow servant fell down and pleaded with him, ‘Have patience with me, and I will pay you.’ He refused and went and put him in prison until he should pay the debt.”

(Matthew 18.26-30)

It’s easy to find yourself behaving like the man in this parable, holding sin over the head of someone who demonstrates the same repentance and contrition as you have shown before God.  What became of the unforgiving servant in Jesus’ parable?

“And in anger his master delivered him to the jailers, until he should pay all his debt. So also my heavenly Father will do to every one of you, if you do not forgive your brother from your heart.”

(Matthew 18.34-35)

We must forgive, or we forfeit our own forgiveness.  But when?  What is a sufficient display of penitence?  That part is simple:

“If your brother sins, rebuke him, and if he repents, forgive him, and if he sins against you seven times in the day, and turns to you seven times, saying, ‘I repent,’ you must forgive him.”

(Luke 17.3-4)

Jeremy Nettles

Not many of you should become teachers, my brothers, for you know that we who teach will be judged with greater strictness. For we all stumble in many ways. And if anyone does not stumble in what he says, he is a perfect man, able also to bridle his whole body.

(James 3.1-2)

The writer of these words certainly knew whereof he spoke.  He’d been one of the brothers who tried to use words to goad Jesus into making a public spectacle of himself and get it out of his system, because “not even his brothers believed in him” (Jn 7.3-5).  He had certainly stumbled in the things he’d said.  On top of that, as a teacher he had experience with the disproportionate influence his words could have on others, even when his words were misconstrued.  He agreed with Paul and Barnabas on the question of Gentile Christians and circumcision, and yet Paul described the false teachers pushing circumcision on the Gentile Christians of Antioch as “men [who] came from James” (Ga 2.12).  Was James to blame for this problem?  No, and Paul doesn’t really say he was.  These Judaizers held James in high regard, but when they presumed to speak on his behalf, telling Gentile converts they must become Jews in order to enjoy the blessings of Christ, they were mistaken about James’ view.  James’ own words, spoken during the conference at Jerusalem that soon followed, indicate this:

“Brothers, listen to me. Simeon has related how God first visited the Gentiles, to take from them a people for his name. And with this the words of the prophets agree… Therefore my judgment is that we should not trouble those of the Gentiles who turn to God…”

(Acts 15.13-19)

When they wrote a letter to Gentile Christians spread far and wide, James and the other leaders in Jerusalem specifically disavowed the false teaching, both in the present and, crucially, in the past:

“some persons have gone out from us and troubled you with words, unsettling your minds, although we gave them no instructions…”

(Acts 15.24)

James, and the other apostles and elders, had not been mistaken on this point, and yet their authority had been invoked, and their teaching misrepresented, in order to mislead.  Teachers are not chiefly responsible, of course, when their words are misconstrued; yet a conscientious teacher prefers to give few opportunities for such misunderstandings!

We’re especially prone to making mistakes of this kind, when we hold up any person other than Christ as the exalted teacher whose word is infallible and authoritative.  James, through no fault of his own, saw himself elevated in the minds of some of his followers, to their great detriment.  He’s among the first of many examples of this problem flaring up among Christians.  Some Christians still venerate Paul to an improper degree, so that they will flatly ignore or explain away truths God spoke through others of his servants—not to mention things Paul himself wrote, that ought to limit the extreme interpretations offered on a handful of points.

This shouldn’t shock us—there’s a long list of prominent teachers who were held in such regard that, practically speaking, many of their followers treated it, and in some cases still treat it, as if they were hearing “The voice of a god, and not of a man!” (Ac 12.22).  This list includes Marcion, Tertullian, Montanus, Origen, Arius, Athanasius, Donatus, Augustine of Hippo, Nestorius, Francis of Assisi, Thomas Aquinas, John Wycliffe, Jan Hus, Martin Luther, Huldrych Zwingli, Menno Simons, John Calvin, John Knox, John Smyth, and many more at lower levels.  While this list only covers the 2^nd to the early 17^th centuries, the problem is by no means exclusive to that period!

For when one says, “I follow Paul,” and another, “I follow Apollos,” are you not being merely human?

What then is Apollos? What is Paul? Servants through whom you believed, as the Lord assigned to each. I planted, Apollos watered, but God gave the growth. So neither he who plants nor he who waters is anything, but only God who gives the growth.

(1 Corinthians 1.4-7)

This problem is almost as old as the church itself, and continues today, in many circles.  Teachers represent God in their work, as God told Moses, “See, I have made you like God to Pharaoh, and your brother Aaron shall be your prophet” (Ex 7.1).  When their students begin to confuse the representative for the one he represents, they turn their spiritual leaders into idols.  In some cases, this is done despite the teacher’s warnings; in others, the teacher encourages it.  Be on guard against putting any man other than Jesus into the place of God.  We are commanded,

Obey your leaders and submit to them, for they are keeping watch over your souls, as those who will have to give an account.

(Hebrews 13.17)

God holds leaders responsible, to a greater degree than followers.  This is why James advised caution for aspiring teachers, and followers should strive to distinguish leaders who sincerely pursue God’s will, from those who pursue their own.

Everyone who goes on ahead and does not abide in the teaching of Christ, does not have God. Whoever abides in the teaching has both the Father and the Son. If anyone comes to you and does not bring this teaching, do not receive him into your house or give him any greeting, for whoever greets him takes part in his wicked works.

(2 John 9-11)

Do not be deceived.  Do not put your eternal trust in mere mortals.  Respect and appreciate the servants, but listen to God.

Jeremy Nettles

“There were two men in a certain city, the one rich and the other poor. The rich man had very many flocks and herds, but the poor man had nothing but one little ewe lamb, which he had bought. And he brought it up, and it grew up with him and with his children. It used to eat of his morsel and drink from his cup and lie in his arms, and it was like a daughter to him. Now there came a traveler to the rich man, and he was unwilling to take one of his own flock or herd to prepare for the guest who had come to him, but he took the poor man’s lamb and prepared it for the man who had come to him.”

(2 Samuel 12.1-4)

This was God’s way of telling David that he’d committed a grievous sin.  In the previous chapter of 2 Samuel, David had stayed home while his armies went to war, and in his newfound leisure had faced the otherwise unlikely scenario of happening on the scene of a beautiful woman bathing.  He found out who she was, sent for her, slept with her, impregnated her, and then attempted to cover it up by calling her husband back from the front lines.  When Uriah refused to cooperate by enjoying himself at home while his brothers-in-arms risked their lives and slept in tents, David sidestepped the issue by having him deliberately killed in battle.  In the process, many more Israelite soldiers died.

In just a few days, David went from a seemingly harmless act of voyeurism, to adultery, coverup, conspiracy, manslaughter, and murder—and this list could surely be expanded to include more sins committed in pursuit of the others.  How could the man after God’s own heart do all this (1Sa 13.14)?  It was more than a momentary lapse of self-control.  There were off-ramps available to him at every point along this descent into sin, disorder, death, and misery—but he refused to take any of them, and just kept forging ahead into the abyss.

In the first place, assuming it was an accident that he stumbled upon the lurid scene, he first chose to indulge the lust in his heart, likely on the grounds that it had never caused a problem before.  After all, God created this feminine beauty, and it ought to be appreciated, even celebrated!  Then, he sent for her, perhaps rationalizing that he just wanted to be in the presence of this beautiful lady, who was left alone when her husband went off to war—the poor thing!  Of course, deep down, he had “already committed adultery with her in his heart” (Mt 5.28), but some harmless flirtation is surely no big deal.

As they say, one thing led to another, and while he probably thought later, I shouldn’t have done that, it seemed like the whole affair was past, until Bathsheba’s message arrived several days later: “I am pregnant” (2Sa 11.5).  Well, now you’re in a pickle, aren’t you, David?  Her husband has been away for some time, and when he discovers his wife’s pregnancy he’ll be, understandably, upset.  Then the whole thing will be out in the open, and David will look like a rotten, licentious pig—an apt description of the facts, but that’s no reason for the people to know it!

What a disaster!  How to get out of this mess of his own making?  Aha!  Why not call Uriah home, on the double, and let him sleep with his wife, too?  The birth will seem a little early, but not suspiciously so.  In a way, giving him this child was a blessing, if you ignore the cuckoldry.  When Uriah’s sense of duty kept him from visiting his wife in the middle of a campaign, David was afforded yet another opportunity to come clean.  But no—now he was deeply invested in the coverup.  How much worse would it look, if everyone found out he not only fooled around with his neighbor’s wife, but was planning to dupe her husband into raising David’s child?  How could he ever face Uriah?  How could he face the nation?  How could pretend to have any moral authority, when this is how he himself behaved?  Think of God’s people!  They’ve been through so much under the judges and King Saul, and just as things were getting better, this happens?  Oh no, for the good of the nation, he simply must keep it quiet!

But how?  Well, Uriah’s a soldier; he deliberately risks his life to fight the Lord’s battles on a regular basis.  Oh, if only his name could appear on the list of those killed in action, during the next battle!  That would solve everything!  Well, you know…

David’s loyal servants obeyed his orders, and soon Uriah was killed, and David’s problem seemed to be dead, as well.  He surely breathed a sigh of relief that it was finally over, and then moved on with his life—with the noble gesture of taking Uriah’s widow into his own household being first on the list of things to do.  Of course, when Nathan told David the parable with which we began, David immediately saw the problem, and passed harsh judgment: “the man who has done this deserves to die” (2Sa 12.5).  Then, when “Nathan said to David, ‘You are the man!’” (2Sa 12.7), David despised himself and repented in shame and humiliation (Ps 51).  God forgave his sin, adding it to the list of offenses for his own Son to carry to the cross; but he also imposed temporal consequences, including the implosion of David’s household, and the death of the child conceived in sin.

If Nathan had, instead, approached David as he gazed on Bathsheba’s beautiful body, and foretold what would be the consequences of acting out his heart’s desire, do you think he still would have summoned her?  We don’t know.  He may well have done everything exactly the same, always telling himself he would stop short of the next evil step.  But it’s clear that even his first mistake, indulging his lustful thoughts, was far from harmless.  “Flee from sexual immorality” (1Co 6.18).

Jeremy Nettles