Blog

For the past couple of weeks, we have endeavored to explore all the background information that played a role in setting the stage for the establishment of the Davidic Covenant. To summarize, we noted how the establishment of an earthly throne was the result of God’s eternal plan carried out through (and in spite of) the sinful intentions of men. Whereas the people of Israel failed in their choice of a wicked king named Saul, God succeeded by choosing for Himself a king, a Bethlehemite named David, whose life was characterized by faith and obedience. We ended last week’s blog with the account of David’s desire to build a house for the Lord, and how God subsequently responded to that desire when He spoke to the prophet Nathan.

When you think of King David, what comes to mind? Perhaps you’re reminded of the frequently quoted verse that describes David as a man after God’s own heart (1 Samuel 13:14), or his humble origin in a little town called Bethlehem. Maybe you right away jump to the famous account of David slaying Goliath, or David’s experiences when he was on the run from King Saul. If you’re one who is musically inclined, you might be especially appreciative of the many psalms that David wrote.

What is a Christian? With this question, J.I. Packer opened his chapter on adoption in his masterpiece, Knowing God. In answer to that, he says, “The richest answer I know is that a Christian is one who has God as Father” (J.I. Packer, Knowing God; IVP 1993, 200).

In the last two posts, we have considered the meaning of dependence as creatures and as sinners. Those pertained to our condition pre-fall and pre-grace. In the next two weeks, we will explore a third and a fourth dimension of our dependence toward God: as saints and sons. These are relations of dependence that pertain us to Christians in the state of grace.

We are all “creatures of our God and King,” as the hymn by Francis of Assisi reminds us. However, since the Fall in Genesis 3, we are not just creatures who live in a state of perfection and innocence, but sinners who live in a state of misery and perdition. As such, the relationship that we have with God as Creator is not just one of dependance as creatures, but one of dependance as rebels. There are several ways in which we, as sinners, are dependent on God.

We are all dependent. Every day is an exercise of our dependance on external factors for survival and well-being. We are dependant on our heart to beat an average of 72 times a minute. As we get up in the morning, we are dependent on the coffee machine to brew us some fresh and awakening black drink (or perhaps that is a teapot if you are British). We are dependant on our cars to drive us and our kids to the places we need to go. We are dependent on our computers and smartphones for connecting with other people and receiving information. We are dependent on rivers and wells for water sources. We are dependent on things for our sustenance. If that is true with inanimate things, it is even more so with people. We are dependant on one another for the proper functioning of life and society. We are dependant on grocery stores for the provision of our food. In turn, they are dependant on farmers and butchers for the provision of essential products, and they are dependant on drivers and transportation for the delivery of food to the stores. Every one of us is dependent on others for his survival and well-being.

On Sunday, we celebrated the majesty and supremacy of God in salvation. As I mentioned, from the prophets, to the Psalmists, to Paul, the Scriptures have a unified voice: salvation belongs to the Lord (Ps. 3:8; Jonah 2:9; Isa. 43:11; Eph. 2:8-9). One of the most common reactions to this doctrine among soteriologically reformed Christians is to accept this doctrine, but not rejoice in it. In whatever the Scriptures teaches, we should find our joy and delight (Ps. 19:10-11; 119:113-120). One of the most beautiful expressions of delight in the sovereignty of God that I have encountered is from Jonathan Edwards. He writes:

“But Naaman was angry and went away, saying, “Behold, I thought that he would surely come out to me and stand and call upon the name of the Lord his God, and wave his hand over the place and cure the leper.” (2 Kings 5:11) Naaman came from Syria. He was the king’s commander of that great nation and was threatening the northern kingdom of Israel. We are told that he was “a great man” and had brought great victories to Syria. He was accustomed to wars, mighty battles, royal palaces, dazzling magicians; he was a man who lived for the spectacular. In ancient times, he would be a man of New York City’s Broadway - always living for the spectacular and always expecting the spectacular. And a spectacular thing happened to him: he became sick with leprosy. Therefore, this great man seeks a great solution to his great problem and goes to the most spectacular person in the world: Elisha.

From the earliest days in Israel’s history, there was a promise of a coming king who would rule over the people of Israel. When God spoke to Abraham in Genesis 17:6, He promised that “kings will come forth from you.” Later in Genesis 49, when Jacob prophesied concerning his sons, he said, “The scepter shall not depart from Judah, nor the ruler’s staff from between his feet, until Shiloh comes, and to him shall be the obedience of the peoples.” (v. 10). Long before the days of King Saul, long before the time of the judges, and even before Moses was born, God not only promised a future king for Israel, but even specified the tribe out of whom the king would come!

The reason many reject the doctrine of predestination has nothing to do with election, but has everything to do with reprobation. Reprobation is the flipside of election —the dreadful side of predestination.