Each of us have precious saints who have preceded us and guided us spiritually and we are commanded to both remember them and to imitate their ways of life. For me it would be my elementary Sunday School teacher, Mrs. Dorothy Strozier, my seventh grade Social Studies teacher, Mr. Jim Goss, my childhood pastor, Rev. William Mason, my senior year Honors English teacher, Mrs. Murrel McDougal [with whom I still keep in contact at least annually], my pastor during my medical school years, Rev. Joel Budd, and my current pastor, Rev. Erik Braun as well as my friends, Tom Argersinger and John Stewart whose passion for God I consider both challenging and exemplary. Why does the Holy Spirit make such a strange demand? Because considering the lives of such people and their outcomes and then humbly attempting to imitate them will encourage me to straighten up and sail right! Their conscious commitments to point their ships into the winds of culture puts steel in my walk. Their sailing styles, the trim of their sails, the tilt of their vessels are all elevating to my soul.
Significantly, this is beautifully consistent with the purpose of Hebrews 13, which is to strengthen the little Hebrew church so that it may ride out the coming storms of persecution. A church that adequately recalls its godly leaders and considers the outcomes of their ways of life and attempts to imitate that way of life will sail well. But above this we should consider the example that Jesus Christ Himself set before us, for only He lived a perfect life. And even better, He is always available to us, for as the writer add in what is perhaps the most famous verse in Hebrews, "Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever" [v. 8].
What a contrast with changeableness of us people and life here on earth. The cycle from birth to death is a testament to our human mutability. The supple, sweet flesh of a newborn prospers like a flower and then fades and wrinkles and is finally cast off in death. Human personality never ceases changing. Some freshen with time, others sour, most do a little of both. Relationships wax and wane. To meet someone twenty years from now may be to meet another person. Forests may rise and stand for a millennium -- and then fade into deserts. Rivers cut canyons and then disappear. Newtonian physics, with its straight lines and right angles, is replaced by Einstein's elegant curves of relativity. The only thing sure is change! We as people appear for a little while to laugh and cry and work and play, and then we are gone. This is a melancholy thought at best and our souls long for something solid and immutable.
But the great truth is, God does not change, and neither does the Holy Spirit or His Son, Jesus Christ. In fact, the very same Old Testament Scriptures and wording that describe God the Father's immutableness are applied directly to Christ [Psalm 102:27, Hebrews 1:12, Isaiah 48:12 and Revelation 1:17]. This means that though the Savior has ascended into Heaven and dwells in the splendor, he has not changed. He is the same in His wrath and His love and mercy and compassion and tenderness as He was here one earth. Yesterday Jesus "offered up prayers and petitions with loud cries and tears to the One who could save Him from death" [Hebrews 5:7]. Today He is a high priest before the Father who is able to sympathize with our weakness because He "has been tempted in every way, just as we are -- yet was without sin" [Hebrews 4:15]. And forever this same Jesus "always lives to intercede for us" [Hebrews 7:25]. Our priest is eternally the same and eternally contemporary. We need not fear any changes of opinion or swings in mood with Jesus.
The little Jewish church was not only harried by the imminent threat of persecution, but was also assailed within by a strange teaching that combined esoteric eating practices with their Christian faith [does this not still happen today?!?] that caused at least some within the congregation to be led astray. No one knows exactly what those practices were, though we do know that some in the church believed their sacred menu would make them better Christians. To such the writer warns, "Do not be carried away by all kinds of strange teachings. It is good for our hearts to be strengthened by grace, not by ceremonial foods, which are of no value to those who eat them. We have an altar from which those who minister at the tabernacle have no right to eat" [v. 9, 10]. Those who imagined that spiritual growth came through a special diet had not only become ignorant of the necessity of grace for growth but actually interfered with their reception of that strengthening grace by their proud little rules.
Grace, like earth's water system, operates on gravity -- the spiritual gravity of grace. Just as the waters of Niagara roll on over the falls and plunge down to make a river below, and just as that river flows ever down to the even lower ranges of its course as it heads north toward Lake Ontario, and then glides to still lower lying ground where it brings still more life and growth, so it is with God's grace. The gravity of grace carries it to the lowly in heart, where it brings life and blessing. Grace goes to the humble. This is the spiritual law behind Proverbs 3:34, which James 4:6 quotes: "God opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble." The unbowed soul standing proudly before God receives no benefit from God's falling grace. It may flow over him, but it does not penetrate, and drips away like like rain from a statue. But the soul lying prostrate before God is immersed -- and even swims -- in a sea of grace. So while there is always more grace, it is reserved for the lowly and the humble. Legalisms, even "little" ones, such as dietary restrictions, impede grace. Humility, however, invites the elevating weight of grace!
Actually, the grace we imbibe comes directly from the cross of Christ, for in v. 10 the writer adds, "We have an altar from which those who minister at the tabernacle have no right to eat," referring to the cross because in a Christian context the sacrifice must be on the cross -- the sacrificial altar of our faith. Our spiritual food is nothing less than the life of Christ. The force of these thoughts is phenomenal. Jesus Christ is eternally the same and eternally contemporary. Therefore, do not get mixed up with strange teachings such as that leading to spiritual diets. Our nourishment comes from grace, which comes directly from the altar -- the very cross of Christ. And this meal goes only to the humble.
There is one final thing that will sustain us, and that is how we live -- our lifestyle -- specifically, our worship and our work; or to be Mary in the house of God and Martha in our own. We must make worship the first priority of living: "Through Jesus, therefore, let us continually offer to God a sacrifice of praise -- the fruit of lips that confess His Name" [v. 15]. We all need to be like Mary -- at Jesus' feet looking up so that He fills our entire horizon. She worshipped Him "in spirit" [John 4:23, 24] because her whole being was passionately engaged in giving Him worth. In fact, in a sublime moment she gave her very best for Him as she broke the alabaster flask and poured her fortune onto Jesus. Jesus then said, "She has done a beautiful thing to me" [Mark 14:6]. Here our text is very specific about what He wants. It is a sacrifice -- "a sacrifice of praise -- the fruit of our lips that confess His Name." He wants us to say it. He wants to hear us verbally praise Him. Yet, Mary must be balanced by Martha in our souls: "And do not forget to do good and share with others, for with such sacrifices God is pleased" [v. 16]. True worship always involves giving ourselves in the service of Christ and others [see Romans 12:1; James 1:27; 1 John 3:17, 18]. We can vigorously participate in worship services as we did at Four Oaks last night to cap off our week of prayer to kick-off 2011, but if we do not do good to others and share what we have, none of it gives pleasure to God. But worship coupled with work -- this brings God's pleasure and the winds of the Holy Spirit to our sails so we can ride the most daunting waves as we weather the storms of life.
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