The Deeper Magic

In The Chronicles of Narnia, C. S. Lewis uses the metaphor of deep magic to describe the atonement Aslan accomplishes on Edmund’s behalf at the stone table.

“It means,” said Aslan, “that though the Witch knew the Deep Magic, there is a magic deeper still which she did not know. Her knowledge goes back only to the dawn of time. But if she could have looked a little further back, into the stillness and the darkness before Time dawned, she would have read there a different incantation. She would have known that when a willing victim who had committed no treachery was killed in a traitor’s stead, the Table would crack and Death itself would start working backward.”

With poignant power, Lewis creatively recasts the death of Christ in a way that children (and adults!) could never forget. What happened at the Cross was a deeper magic, but how many of us have really plumbed the depths of that holy transaction?

Puritan theologians were active mostly in the late 16th and 17th centuries. I affectionately call them “the good old dead guys.” One of their common strategies was to take one verse and wring out of it every drop of gospel sweetness. These were men who plumbed the depths, who took the time to think deeply about every theological implication. John Owen, in his exposition of Psalm 130, spends 227 pages exploring the depths of verse 4. Yes, you read that right. Over two hundred pages on one verse. I encourage you to read the whole psalm for context because verse 4 begins with an important transition word: “But with you there is forgiveness that you may be feared.” The psalmist is crying for mercy and knows that if God were to mark our every iniquity, every single transgression in thought, word, and deed, we would rightly perish. What Owen does in his lengthy exposition of verse 4 is explore the inner logic of the gospel, what Lewis called the deeper magic. How can a holy God who demands perfect righteousness, forgive sinners?

Have you ever thought to ask that question? Have you presumed God’s forgiveness without ever realizing what it cost? These are the questions Owen asks as he challenges his readers to go deeper. Here is one quote that stunned me:

To see into the mystery of the love of the Father, working in the blood of the Mediator; to consider by faith the great transaction of divine wisdom, justice, and mercy therein,—how few attain unto it! To come unto God by Christ for forgiveness, and therein to behold the law issuing all its threats and curses in his blood, and losing its sting, putting an end to its obligation unto punishment, in the cross; to see all sins gathered up in the hands of God’s justice, and made to meet on the Mediator, and eternal love springing forth triumphantly from his blood, flourishing into pardon, grace, mercy, forgiveness,—this the heart of a sinner can be enlarged unto only by the Spirit of God.

Go back and read that again, and maybe again, not only because of the clunky 17th century English, but because of the profound truth that’s contained there. Take time to savor the sweetness like a Werther’s Original melting in your mouth. We may think that our generation especially doesn’t have time for this, or it’s just too hard, but look at what Owen says about his own! Few in his time attained to this understanding of what the blood of Christ accomplished and so few came to a deep understanding of the mystery of the love of the Father. A shallow understanding of forgiveness will lead to a shallow understanding of God’s love.

Let’s pray that the Spirit of God, who alone can stir within us to desire this, will work in us to enlighten the eyes of our hearts to comprehend this deeper magic.

How to Calm and Quiet your Soul

O Lord, my heart is not lifted up; my eyes are not raised too high; I do not occupy myself with things too great and too marvelous for me.

But I have calmed and quieted my soul, like a weaned child with its mother; like a weaned child is my soul within me.

O Israel, hope in the Lord from this time forth and forevermore.

Psalm 131

Unless you’ve nursed a child you can’t understand the intimate and visceral connection that exists between mother and child. A simple cry of her infant at just the right time can cause a mother’s body to produce milk. As the baby nestles into the crook of her arm he roots around using sight and smell to find the source of food. When the baby is only weeks old, still learning the steps of this dance with his mother, he is fidgety and frustrated until he successfully latches on.

This is not the picture that’s painted in the second verse of Psalm 131. Here we see the picture of a weaned child with its mother. But in order to understand the image of a weaned child it’s helpful to dwell on the negative image, the one of an unweaned child: fussy, hungry, and impatient.

Weaning represents an important stage of growth for the child. He is now no longer dependent on his mother for food. But that doesn’t mean he’s completely independent of her. It just means that his relationship to her has changed. He has learned to trust his mother and be content in her arms, no longer impatiently waiting to be fed. Calmly and quietly, he can rest knowing that she will provide.

How does this picture help us? If the weaned child with its mother is a picture of a soul who has found rest in God, how do we get there? Bookending this image are three things the psalmist doesn’t do and then a command of what to do. (I am indebted to Jim Hamilton’s excellent commentary for many of the following insights.)

Some Things are Beyond Us

One of the characteristics of Hebrew poetry is to use parallelism, a device that compares and contrasts in order to give meaning. The three things spoken of in verse 1 are actually three ways of speaking about the same thing. He says that his heart is not lifted up, his eyes are not raised too high, and he doesn’t occupy himself with things too great or too marvelous for him. Did you realize there are some things we are just not meant to understand? Proverbs 25:2 may declare that it is the glory of kings to search out the things God has concealed, but Deuteronomy 29:29 assures us that the secret things belong to the Lord. We may be able to peer into the far reaches of the galaxy and map the human genome but we are not God. We are not omniscient, nor omnipotent. But the temptation is to act like we are and to even assume God expects this of us. No. We are limited, time bound creatures made for dependence on our Heavenly Father.

The next time you are filled with anxiety about all the things you think you should be able to handle, or are overwhelmed by the news of the day that’s just a swipe away on your phone, say to yourself, “I am a limited creature and that is good.” (See this excellent book for more on that.) Question the expectations you place on yourself and the messages you receive through the media. Do they appeal to a desire to know everything and accomplish everything? Push back against that with the good news that you are not God! To constantly live in a way that denies this makes us like that unweaned child, always fussy and never trusting.

Hope as Trust

There are some things that are beyond us, things that we should be content not to know and not to be able to handle. That would unsettle us if not for verse 3 which says, “O Israel, hope in the Lord from this time forth and forevermore.”

We oftentimes say things like, “I hope it doesn’t rain tomorrow,” or “I hope the Braves win the Word Series this year.” But meteorologists are often wrong, and don’t even get me going on the futility of hoping in Atlanta sports teams. But true, Biblical hope is not wishful thinking. It has deep roots in the character of a sovereignly good and loving Heavenly Father. It is a firm trust that God is who he says he is and will do what he has promised to do. Hope equals trust. Psalm 130 ends in a similar way. The focus there is on the promise of forgiveness, but it elaborates on the reasons why we can and should hope in the Lord. Notice how it focuses on the character of God: “O Israel, hope in the Lord! For with the Lord there is steadfast love, and with him is plentiful redemption.” (Psalm 130:7)

An active hope and trust in the Lord adjusts our perspective. Instead of straining our eyes and hearts to figure out the universe and our place in it, the child of God who consistently sets the Lord before him, cultivating communion with him, realizes like David in Psalm 16:8 that God is at his right hand, he is near, and because of that he will not be shaken. Let us continually remind ourselves of who God is in comparison to who we are. Let us accept these truths as good. This will free us to exhale and settle down into the place of quiet trust, both today and forevermore when we enjoy our ultimate Sabbath rest in the arms of God.

Come to Jesus

We all would admit we need to pray more. It sounds spiritual and convicting. And sometimes it is. Many of us, from time to time, need a good swift kick in our spiritual backsides. But more often than not, at least in my case, what I mean when I say I need to pray more isn’t at all spiritual. It looks like a frantic and anxious digging around in my flesh, all upset and guilty that I don’t look as shiny as I want to. No wonder. When we look at ourselves and to ourselves, we see a wasteland of weakness and unmet expectations.

When you read John’s gospel you see that Jesus is calling people to a life of belief. The next time you read John, pay attention to how many times the word ‘believe’ is used. It’s everywhere. But what does believing mean?

Believing means coming to Jesus.

Believing isn’t just a one time thing. It’s continuous. If it weren’t, Jesus wouldn’t have described himself as the living bread which we are invited to feed upon forever. (John 6:48-58) Nor would he have swung wide the invitation to come to him and drink from the living water. (John 7:37-39)

Why would Jesus equate belief with eating and drinking? Just like we need to keep eating and drinking to sustain ourselves physically, we need to keep believing, keep coming to Jesus to sustain ourselves spiritually. What is fed in the act of believing is not the body, but the soul — our deep soul-hunger is satiated and our never-ending soul-thirst is quenched when we come to Jesus.

John Piper, in a sermon on John 6 explains this well when he says:

Believing is not even a state of satisfaction in Christ or a state of pleasure in Christ. Rather, John wants to emphasize that we never put down the cup of living water, as though we’d had enough. We never lay aside the loaf of heaven’s bread, as though we were stuffed. “Believing” doesn’t do that. Believing is receiving constantly, and coming constantly. Christ is ever giving himself as drink and food for our souls. We are ever putting our lips to the cup, and our tongue to the bread. Life in Christ is like a branch in a vine, not like a full cup sitting on a table beside a full pitcher. “I am the vine; you are the branches. Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit” (John 15:5). Believing is what a branch does in the vine. It drinks. It eats. It never stops. It abides. Forever.

Belief in Jesus isn’t something I did once upon a time in December of 1991 when I was converted. Belief is the continual coming to Jesus and finding in him everything I need. If I see a lack in my own life, it makes no sense to search for the answer in myself. But in Christ there is an infinite and free reservoir of grace and mercy. We should not be ashamed to come to him. He freely invites us to partake of these riches.

“Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.” Hebrews 4:16