Colossians 2:9-10

“For in him the whole fullness of deity dwells bodily, and you have been filled in him, who is the head of all rule and authority.”

Isn’t this a stunning correlation? I absolutely love the ESV’s translation here, using the same idea of being ‘filled’ with something to describe Jesus’ oneness with God. His being of God. Then, our own fullness in Christ.

Christ was God in man form. All of God dwelled inside the man. Now, as followers and believers in Jesus, we now experience a filling of our own. We are filled by Christ in the Holy Spirit.

How could that not give you chills?

“You cannot love or hate something unless it is a reflection of something you love or hate about yourself.”

What do you think about that statement?

Is it possible that the qualities we fall in love with are in some way the qualities we hold dear about ourselves? What about the statement that opposites attract? Could it be that we are attracted to our own weaknesses? I have a friend who is excellent at mathematics, I find that a very appealing quality. Could it be because I am so shamefully bad at it?

Jealousy. We hate someone because of something they are capable of, simply because we are incapable of it. Or pride. We feel good about something special we are able to do because it is something other’s cannot do.

A stretch, perhaps.

But I have to wonder whether this principle, if in fact true, extends to God as well. As unbelievers, do we hate God because he is all the goodness we are not? Certainly. After all, as believers, we love God because God is a being dwelling inside us.

I’ve heard it said, mostly by people who worship the god of thought and knowledge, that:

“Nothing truly known can be truly feared”

I have no idea who said this first. But if you think about it, it’s accurate. A violent dictator, if you knew the troubled, insecure child inside, you would not fear him. A large guard dog, if you knew his name and that he loved bacon, wouldn’t pose much of a threat. Or how about the future, if you really knew what was going to happen tomorrow, you would not be afraid of it—you would know just what to do.

But there is one important exception.

God.

It is only when we truly know God that we truly fear him.

Imagine a boss or supervisor at work who simply cannot be satisfied with anything you do. Each time you discover a new way to fulfill his wishes, you discover ten new things that you’re not even coming close to getting right. When you finally rectify those things, you discover ten more you’re missing completely. This is the law.

No matter how much you seek to follow it, satisfying it will always be out of reach. The law is intended for one main purpose: to drive us to repentance by showing us the destitution of our plight.

That is why Paul writes in Romans 3:20:

“For by works of the law no human being will be justified in his sight, since through the law comes knowledge of sin.”

We cannot be justified by something that is endlessly revealing how short we’re falling of success. The concept of being justified, heck, even having any hope for this life, by our works—by the things we say and do and feel—is simply unreasonable. What human being can say with honesty that they’ve even been honest their whole life? No one. And before a righteous God, that has rendered their works null.

Even quantum traces of logic and reason will say that if there is a just and righteous God, grace is our only hope.

When an infraction is committed, its severity is not always measured by the infraction itself, but often by the esteem or position of the one who suffered from it.

Imagine a homeless man has a shopping cart full of his possessions. Among them is something old and unassuming. Perhaps its a family heirloom. The object is very important to this man. It is also worth a great deal of money. One day, someone confronts the homeless man with force and steals this object. The thief, for this infraction, will probably never find himself in hand-cuffs

Now imagine the same story, but replace the homeless man with the CEO of a very prominent business in a very lucrative industry. Or the Don of a Mafia family. Or the president of the United States. All of a sudden, the seriousness of that thief’s infraction has gone soaring.

John Piper writes in his book Fifty Reasons Why Jesus Came to Die:

“Therefore sin is not small, because it is not against a small sovereign.”

It’s not uncommon to hear thoughts like, “why would God even concern himself with this or that… why would God care if I do such and such?” But that thought denies this fairly basic principle: Even small insults become huge ones when the offended party is of great authority or esteem.

God cares. God really cares. So much so that he himself came in Jesus Christ to absorb the wrath we would inevitably have suffered for those ‘little’ things.

Puritan thinker William Gurnall shares this insight:

“Joseph’s coat made him finder than his bretheren, but it caused all his trouble; so great gifts lift a saint up a litter higher in the eyes of men, but they occasion many trials, from which thou who are low are exempt.”

It sort or reminds me of Spiderman’s “With great power comes great responsibility”. Gurnall is right. There is an absolute correlation between the intensity of a person’s gifts and the trials they will face because of them. For example people with trucks are constantly asked to haul stuff around for those without them. Or people with huge amounts of money have to constantly consider the motives of those around them.

And in the spiritual economy it’s barely different. The man with an exceptional insight, or prophetic bent, will undoubtedly stir the pot and earn some resentment from those who oppose his opinions. Or the one gifted as an evangelist will eventually have to flee for his life for exercising that gift.

I remember, as a new Christian feeling envious of those that I felt had greater spiritual gifts. Gurnall’s sentiment goes a long way to remind us that our gifts are tailored to each of us. Everyone’s gift comes at a cost and God has been deliberate to give each of us gifts of which we are able to carry the cost.

There is a concept in scriptural study (though vague and not necessarily a ‘rule’ per se), that says that when scripture explicitly mentions a topic or concept or command repeatedly, we’re to give it especially close attention. Sort of like if you parents said not to wear shoes in the house over and over again, you would likely grasp that it is especially important to them for some reason.

Well, after reading Psalm 136 this morning, it occurred to me to look something up.

Did you know the phrase “his love endures forever” occurs over 40 times in scripture, and most of them are in conjunction with the command to remember that fact.

Hmmm. I wonder if God is really trying to drive something home here. Just sayin.