The question of righteousness stands at the center of Scripture. The law reveals what is required, but it does not provide the means to fulfill it. Throughout the Old Testament, righteousness is pursued, yet never fully attained.
In the New Testament, that pursuit finds its answer in the person of Christ. What is required is given, not achieved. The righteousness that the law demands is realized in the Son and received by those who belong to him.
“So Much Guilt, So Little Time
Jesus bookends these five you have heard that it was said statements with what are a preface and a conclusion to this section.
Before,
“Do not think that I have come to abolish the Law or the Prophets; I have not come to abolish them but to fulfill them. For truly, I say to you, until heaven and earth pass away, not an iota, not a dot, will pass from the Law until all is accomplished. Therefore whoever relaxes one of the least of these commandments and teaches others to do the same will be called least in the kingdom of heaven, but whoever does them and teaches them will be called great in the kingdom of heaven. For I tell you, unless your righteousness exceeds that of the scribes and Pharisees, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.” (Matthew 5:17–20)
and after,
“You therefore must be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect.” (Matthew 5:48)
In the first passage, the standard of righteousness is as high as that of the scribes and Pharisees. They–and we–think this is achievable if we try very hard and are very good, though all have tried, and none have succeeded. We believe obedience to the Law is a way to garner favor with God, but instead we only see our failure, which points us to our need for a Savior. “For if it had not been for the law, I would not have known sin” (Romans 7:7). It becomes crushingly apparent that no one can obey all the law or even any of the law, “For whoever keeps the whole law but fails in one point has become guilty of all of it” (James 2:10).
When Jesus says that he has not come to abolish the Law and even elaborates on the negative consequences of diminishing it–to be called least in the kingdom of heaven–it is not good news. But when Jesus says he has come to fulfill the Law, that is good news indeed. If the Law is fulfilled, we will not be under it anymore. However, in each you have heard that was said, there follows, but I say to you. Contrary to the diminishment of these commandments, Jesus amplifies them. Now, sin is not only seen in our outward and visible actions, but in the unseen activities of the heart and mind as well. As he later says, “First clean the inside of the cup and the plate, that the outside also may be clean” (Matthew 23:26).
In the second passage, Jesus goes further when he says we must be perfect, as perfect as God himself. Even if we were able to uphold the entire law, it would not be good enough. “Surely there is not a righteous man on earth who does good and never sins” (Ecclesiastes 7:20). While the law required external and visible obedience, the standard is now not just outer perfection but inner perfection, to be as perfect as God himself! Proverbs says, “All the ways of a man are pure in his own eyes, but the Lord weighs the spirit” (Proverbs 16:2). Like Nebuchadnezzar, we “have been weighed in the balances and found wanting” (Daniel 5).
One standard of righteousness is obeying all the rules, but this attempt to be God-like in perfection removes all doubt of our spiritual poverty. When a man addresses Jesus as “Good Teacher,” Jesus replies, “Why do you call me good? No one is good but God alone” (Mark 10:18) and reiterates several of the Ten Commandments. He says, “The one who receives a righteous person because he is a righteous person will receive a righteous person’s reward” (Matthew 10:41). As Christians, we receive the reward only because another righteous one gains it for us.
To the crowd that day on the mount, for Jesus to say we must be as perfect as God would be understood to be an unachievable standard, so much so that it continues to point us to our need for a Savior to do what we cannot do for ourselves. David is “a man after God’s own heart” (1 Samuel 13:14), not because he is sinless–far from it–but because he continually repents of his sins, never allowing his heart to become hard toward God despite his sins. His penitent spirit is found throughout the Psalms. “The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise” (Psalms 51:17).
Jesus says, “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God” (Matthew 5:8), but only he who sees to the “joints and marrow” (Hebrews 4:12) can “declare me innocent from hidden faults” (Psalms 19:10). The disciples ask Jesus, “Who then can be saved?” and he says, “What is impossible with man is possible with God” (Luke 18:27). When we humble ourselves, he gives us his Holy Spirit and sanctifies us. We are washed in his blood and will be raised with him. Even the patriarchs, “though commended through their faith, did not receive what was promised” (Hebrews 11:39-40). But now we, with them, “have come to Mount Zion, and the spirits of the righteous made perfect, and to Jesus, to the sprinkled blood” (Hebrews 12:22-24).
“Oh that salvation for Israel would come out of Zion!” (Psalm 14:7) because it’s not coming from us or our worldly philosophies or good works, for “there is none who does good, who seek after God, not even one” (Psalms 53:2, 3, 6). Before God destroys the world in flood, “The Lord saw that the wickedness of man was great in the earth, and that every intention of the thoughts of his heart was only evil continually” (Genesis 6:5). After the flood, Noah makes sacrifices. Even though the “pleasing aroma rises,” God does not now say, “they have learned their lesson, and they’ll do better.” Instead, he reiterates his observation from before the flood, that “the intention of man’s heart is evil from his youth” (Genesis 8:21).
We didn’t change, but in his mercy, he will not destroy the world again by flood but instead plans to redeem us through the one who went through the flood of abuse and rejection to be called “The Lord is our righteousness” (Jeremiah 23:5-6). When John counterpoints our sinfulness with the necessity for us not to sin, he says, “when he appears we shall be like him, because we shall see him as he is. And everyone who thus hopes in him purifies himself as he is pure (1 John 3:2-3). As Oswald Chambers wrote, “Jesus Christ is the only One who can fulfill the Sermon on the Mount.” Only in keeping our eyes on Jesus are we sanctified day by day.
“And Who Is My Neighbor?”
“And behold, a lawyer stood up to put him to the test, saying, “Teacher, what shall I do to inherit eternal life?” He said to him, “What is written in the Law? How do you read it?” And he answered, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind, and your neighbor as yourself.” And he said to him, “You have answered correctly; do this, and you will live.” But he, desiring to justify himself, said to Jesus, ‘And who is my neighbor?’ Jesus replied, ‘A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and he fell among robbers, who stripped him and beat him and departed, leaving him half dead. Now by chance a priest was going down that road, and when he saw him he passed by on the other side. So likewise a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. But a Samaritan, as he journeyed, came to where he was, and when he saw him, he had compassion. He went to him and bound up his wounds, pouring on oil and wine. Then he set him on his own animal and brought him to an inn and took care of him. And the next day he took out two denarii and gave them to the innkeeper, saying, ‘Take care of him, and whatever more you spend, I will repay you when I come back.’ Which of these three, do you think, proved to be a neighbor to the man who fell among the robbers?’ He said, ‘The one who showed him mercy.’ And Jesus said to him, ‘You go, and do likewise.’” (Luke 10:29–37)
To test Jesus, a lawyer asks, And who is my neighbor? If we can identify who our neighbor is–a specific person or narrow group–we can work to fulfill the second great commandment at arm’s length without it costing us too much. This is yet another way to justify ourselves through actions by others and credit them to us. The only purpose of the lawyer’s question is not to discover how he can expand his responsibilities to other people but how he can limit his responsibilities. As the parable progresses, it becomes increasingly clear that the answer to the lawyer’s question should be that his neighbor is the one who received help. But an odd transformation happened on the way to that answer.
In its conclusion, Jesus reverses the premise and asks, “Who proved to be a neighbor to the man?” The neighbor is the one who delivers mercy, not the one who receives it. If the man who was attacked is the neighbor, then we need only help those who are attacked. But if the Good Samaritan is the neighbor, then it is an attitude of our heart, not a calculation in our mind. Who am I to others, all others? Who owns my time, all my time? Who owns all my money, whatever you spend, to help others? This involves a transformation inside us, not to check off another box but to change our hearts. As Luke says, “The good person out of the good treasure of his heart produces good” (Luke 6:45). Is our heart good?
Disarmed by Jesus’ question, the lawyer stops testing Jesus and replies honestly, perhaps meekly. When Jesus reverses the premise, the lawyer, aware of patterns of legal argumentation, realizes how far he has drifted from the spirit of the commandment he thought he knew so well. In answering by way of a question, Jesus indicates that the lawyer’s responsibility to his neighbor is unlimited, for he is the continual neighbor to everyone he encounters. This, then, is to love your neighbor as yourself.
This abrupt revelation is not unlike Nathan’s stunning David with, “You are the man!” (2 Samuel 12:7) after he confronts David about his adultery with Bathsheba and his murder of her husband, Uriah. The lawyer is beginning to see the fundamental error in his reasoning. If he is the neighbor, then his responsibility is endless, for it is first a responsibility to God who sees our hearts and from which nothing is hidden. It is now not a handful of actions for a particular group but a transformation of the heart to see the world differently. All people are God’s creation; therefore, all are our neighbors.
After Jesus asks, Who was the neighbor to the man? The lawyer answers the one who showed him mercy. In this reversal, the lawyer has stopped trying to bicker over finer points of the law. Earlier, the lawyer had stood up to ask his question, presumably because he was in a crowd of people listening to Jesus preach, so his humiliation was public. Yet Jesus does not make this a gotcha moment and condemn the lawyer, personally or publicly. Instead, he sees the lawyer’s change of heart as he surrenders the pretense of trying to trick this wise teacher. Jesus gives him a meaningful task in his great mercy and kindness: You go and do likewise. Jesus always shows us mercy, even in our most prideful moments.
As this parable emphasizes, though, his mercy is purposeful for us to be merciful to others. “Blessed are the merciful, for they shall receive mercy” and “Should not you have had mercy on your fellow servant, as I had mercy on you?” (Matthew 5:7, 18:33) are just two of his many teachings about this. Jeremiah also provides a picture of mercy when God rebukes his people because God had said, “At the end of seven years each of you must set free the fellow Hebrew who has been sold to you and has served you six years” (Jeremiah 34:14). In a callback to the nation’s year of Jubilee, when God cancels all debts, and the Israelites could return to their original family homestead, this is a Jubilee in miniature. Each encounter we have with another can be like a localized, personalized Jubilee in which we can be as merciful to others as God has been merciful to us and set our neighbor free from the clutch of our judgment, exaggerated expectations, and their slights, perceived or real.
Like the lawyer, we all want to answer correctly and be right before our teachers, parents, family, and God. But as the Psalmist says, “As the eyes of servants look to the hand of their master, as the eyes of a maidservant to the hand of her mistress, so our eyes look to the Lord our God, till he has mercy upon us” (Psalms 123:2). Our fulfillment comes in God’s approval, which we only have through Jesus.
Romans “7:26”
No such verse exists–Romans 7 ends with verse 25. But when I was new in faith and read Romans for the first time, I thought the publisher had left a verse out of my Bible. How do we get from the discouraging final words of Romans 7, “with my flesh I serve the law of sin,” to the triumphant first verse of Romans 8, “There is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus”? How can a Christian who does the not do what I want and does what I do not want to in Romans 7 get to no condemnation so quickly? Christ alone. And while those who had ears to hear and eyes to see had understood this in the Old Testament, now in the gospel, it is more evident than ever. This is an extension of the same grace received when we first turned to Jesus as our Lord, “the righteousness of God through faith in Jesus Christ for all who believe” (Romans 3:22).
Yet, we tend to suffer under the idea that the Sermon on the Mount’s reiterations of the second tablet commandments are even more strident admonitions to do better, dig deeper, and be more obedient and purer to gain God’s favor. We must be perfect, as [our] heavenly Father is perfect, so we make this another, even higher, and utterly impossible Law to achieve. But can this be the lighter yoke? “O foolish Galatians! Having begun by the Spirit, are you now being perfected in the flesh?” (Galatians 3:1, 3).
Instead, this section of the Sermon on the Mount is the best of the Good News when we read it considering a God “merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness” (Exodus 34:6). Even though the sins of our hearts will be with us until death, there is now no condemnation because the blood of Christ covers all of them. God says, “How long will they be incapable of innocence?” and “How long shall your wicked thoughts lodge within you?” (Hosea 8:5, Jeremiah 4:14). Without his redemption–always. The jump to no condemnation in Romans 8 is not because we have overcome Romans 7 but despite us not conquering Romans 7.
These second-tablet sins of mind and heart will always be with us. This is not an excuse to give up and “continue in sin that grace may abound” (Romans 6:1). Just the opposite. “In your struggle against sin you have not yet resisted to the point of shedding your blood” (Hebrews 12:4). Shedding of blood may allude to more than persecution, but death. Indeed, our struggle against sin will persist until we are no longer in this “tent that is our earthly home” (2 Corinthians 5:1).
English minister William Ames (1576–1633) says the second tablet “not only requires the works themselves, but also the most perfect way of working them; namely, that they come from the whole heart, and the bottom of the heart; that is, from the entire strength of the whole man, and with perfect purity and sincerity; and that they be directed to the glory of God.” So, we always strive to do right and please God while realizing there is no condemnation when we fail–and we do fail.
Paul highlights this tension in Philippians when he says, “as to righteousness under the law blameless,” yet knowing this earned blamelessness is but “rubbish, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which comes through faith in Christ” and, knowing that he is not “already perfect,” he commits to “press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus” (Philippians 3:14).
Theologian and pastor John Owen (1616–1683) writes, “believers, who are assuredly freed from the condemning power of sin, ought yet to make it their business all the days to mortify the indwelling power of sin, Indwelling sin always abides whilst we are in this world; therefore, it is always to be mortified.” More recently, Oswald Chambers wrote, “This experience of our attention being directed to our concentration of personal sin is true in everyone’s life, from the greatest of saints to the worst of sinners.” And theologian Richard Foster writes, “Frankly, this side of eternity we will never unravel the good from the bad, the pure from the impure. But what I have come to see is that God is big enough to receive us with all our mixture. We do not have to be bright, or pure, or filled with faith, or anything. That is what grace means, and not only are we saved by grace, we live by it as well.”
These are reminders to contemplate how completely we need Jesus, both at that first moment in our lives when we open our hearts to him and then at every moment after. But it also reminds us to rejoice in how completely his blood covers all our sins from that one moment of salvation and then for all moments until we are reunited with him. Therefore, we must not despair of the sin that ever nips at our heel but rejoice that all is forgiven, bringing us joy and gratefulness in his rest. This, not earning perfection, allows Jesus’ gift of holiness to fill our lives. There is now no condemnation because we now have a righteousness not “from the law, but that which comes through faith in Christ, the righteousness from God that depends on faith” (Philippians 3:9).
Divorce
“It was also said, Whoever divorces his wife, let him give her a certificate of divorce. But I say to you that everyone who divorces his wife, except on the ground of sexual immorality, makes her commit adultery, and whoever marries a divorced woman commits adultery.” (Matthew 5:31–32)
Instead of the You have heard that it was said that begins the explanations of the five second-tablet sins, Jesus begins this one differently: “It was also said.” The inclusion of divorce here, in the Sermon on the Mount, and especially in a list of sins of the heart that we will ever be dogged with, indicates that divorce is collateral damage from which we all suffer because of the Fall. Jesus says of divorce, “but from the beginning it was not so” (Matthew 19:10). Of course, none of the second tablet’s sins were there from the beginning. However, they are here now, and the consequence of our fallen nature affects all our relationships, not the least of which is seen in the most intimate marriage relationship.
“The Finger of God”
“And he gave to Moses, when he had finished speaking with him on Mount Sinai, the two tablets of the testimony, tablets of stone, written with the finger of God.” (Exodus 31:18)
and
“Jesus bent down and wrote with his finger on the ground. And once more he bent down and wrote on the ground.” (John 8:6, 8)
God the Father and God the Son write on different occasions; the former when he gives us the Law, and the latter when he is presented with someone violating that very Law. Augustine (354–439 AD) makes this connection: “For the law was written with the finger of God; but written on stone because of the hardhearted. The Lord now wrote on the ground because He was seeking fruit.” Jesus sees in the adulterous woman’s accusers the greater hidden sin of pride and assuming God’s place in judgment. He seeks any hint of mercy in them. What Jesus writes down, we don’t know, yet it was enough to shame the men into leaving her alone with Jesus, who does not condemn her. Seeing an expression of true mercy can shame us into realizing how unmerciful we are.
Ezekiel also records a similar shame of a group who were confronted with God’s writing. In that instance, they are given a detailed description of God’s law regarding the temple, “the design, its arrangement, its exits and with its entrances, all its statutes, its whole design, all its laws” (Ezekiel 43:11). Forty-five times in chapters 40 to 48, Ezekiel uses a form of the word measure. And the purpose of this review was to see “if they are ashamed of all that they have done” (Ezekiel 43:11).
Why would a recollection of blueprint-level details of the temple dimensions cause shame? Perhaps they would be ashamed of their failings in temple rituals. Maybe they would be ashamed of their pride after being reminded of the temple’s intricacies and glory. Perhaps they would be ashamed of the simple fact that a sovereign God would be so concerned with them and so personal with them that he writes instructions with his finger that point to a Savior. As such, with each measurement of God’s glorious work, they realize that they do not measure up to the perfection and holiness expected of them. They are overcome by their sinfulness and humbled by the great mercy of the one who loves them so much as to approach them through the intricacies of that temple. For similar reasons, the adulterous woman’s accusers are also ashamed.
Jesus is the true temple, with infinite measurements of his perfection. Jesus says of himself, “Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up” (John 2:19). In what Ezekiel accomplished in 260 verses over eight chapters, Jesus accomplishes with two inscrutable scribbles on the ground. These men are in the presence of the divine and living temple. When Jesus writes with his finger on the ground, the woman’s accusers become ashamed, too, that somehow, they also aren’t measuring up. This isn’t only a measurement of their perfection, however. It is a measurement of their mercy or lack of it.
We cannot fix our imperfections outside of Jesus, but in his mercy, it is our choice by the power of the Holy Spirit to let him cover them for us. Jesus says elsewhere, “But if it is by the finger of God that I cast out demons, then the kingdom of God has come upon you” (Luke 11:20). The woman’s accusers are in the presence of the King, and we would be well advised to consider our own motives when we judge others as they did.
The scribes and the Pharisees had come to Jesus “to test him, that they might have some charge to bring against him” (John 8:6) shortly after the people had begun saying, “This is the Christ” (John 7:41). These religious leaders bring a woman caught in adultery and ask, “So what do you say? (John 8:5). If he fails to adhere to the Mosaic Law of stoning her, they can undermine his claim that he is the Christ. Ironically, they are confronting the God who wrote this Law, whom they ought to love with all their heart, souls, and minds (as the first tablet demands).
When their accusations go unanswered, their words falling to the ground in a manner of speaking, Jesus writes in the sand as if erasing those hollow words from existence. This image is seen in the prophet Samuel’s early life when he “grew, and the LORD was with him and let none of his words fall to the ground” (1 Samuel 3:19). Samuel spoke truthfully and mercifully about God’s will and our proper relationship with him. His words were meaningful, hanging in the air, so to speak, achieving their fully intended effect. The religious leaders before Jesus speak duplicitously to undermine him and unmercifully condemn the woman. Their ineffective words fall to the ground. Failing in their first attempt to trip him up, they again accuse the woman, at which point Jesus says, “Let him who is without sin among you be the first to throw a stone at her” (John 8:7).
Jesus writes in the sand a second time, as if erasing their fallen words from existence. This pause gives them time to compare their behavior against the second tablet and, in summary, to love our neighbor as ourselves. And they depart with nothing accomplished. They came to prove Jesus wasn’t the God of the first tablet, and they departed realizing they weren’t people of the second tablet. The finger of God, twice on the tablets, twice in the sand, exposes our complete failure to love God and love our neighbor, but this is mercifully so that we must turn to him alone for salvation.
Jesus shows a depth of mercy they were unfamiliar with. This mercy comes as predicted when God says, “I will remove the heart of stone from their flesh and give them a heart of flesh, that they may walk in my statutes and keep my rules and obey them” (Ezekiel 11:19–20). So now the Word which became flesh is written in us, “not with ink but with the Spirit of the living God, not on tablets of stone but on tablets of human hearts” (2 Corinthians 3:3).
One final foreshadow of these moments Jesus had with this small crowd is seen in the third plague in Pharoah’s Egypt. It is the first plague which the magicians cannot duplicate, so they warn Pharoah, “This is the finger of God” (Exodus 8:19). What further connects this event to Exodus is the command God gave to initiate this plague, “Stretch out your staff and strike the dust of the earth…” (Exodus 8:16). God owns it all and his mark is over all, even the dirt beneath our feet, the very dust that Jesus wrote in.
Jesus came to die on our behalf and now lives forever “interceding for us” (Romans 8:34) because he “has entered, not into holy places made with hands, which are copies of the true things, but into heaven itself, now to appear in the presence of God on our behalf” (Hebrews 9:24). And it’s because of that temple a new Jerusalem will come to this world: “And the name of the city from that time on shall be, The Lord Is There” (Ezekiel 48:35). This is the most humbling gift of all, but “Those who look to him are radiant, and their faces shall never be ashamed” (Psalms 34:5). Jesus alone is our righteousness.
In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus connects the second tablet to the Old Testament in Matthew 5 before the first tablet in Matthew 6, perhaps because being incarnated among us he sees our plight from a different perspective. For he, “made like his brothers in every respect” (Hebrews 2:17), is not “unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin” (Hebrews 4:15). In the thirty years leading up to his ministry, Jesus comes to understand our sins, our struggle with the things of the world, and how the second tablet sins dominate our lives. At the beginning of his ministry, he leads with that message: “God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but so that the world might be saved through him” (John 3:17). He demonstrates this repeatedly in his ministry.
In Matthew 5, Jesus’ message about the second tablet is not different from Exodus 5, but the perspective and where we stand is changed. God speaks the Ten Commandments to Moses alone. Everyone else “stood at distance trembling with fear” (Exodus 20:18). In this sermon, Jesus talks to us personally with no intermediary, that we will “draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need” (Hebrews 4:16). When we fall upon Jesus, he can declare us “innocent from hidden faults” and “blameless of great transgression” (Psalms 19:12-13) because of his sacrifice. Dr. Carmen Joy Imes aptly says, “Jesus is not simply a conduit of God’s teachings the way Moses was. He is the source of those teachings” (author’s emphasis).
A Third Great Commandment?
“A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another: just as I have loved you, you also are to love one another. By this all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.” (John 13:34)
In Matthew, Mark, and Luke, several people ask Jesus what the most important commandment is, and each time, he replies with two: love God and love your neighbor. However, this story is not told in the Gospel of John, and the two great commandments don’t appear directly in this gospel. Instead, Jesus magnificently displays his love for us when he washes his disciples’ feet and shares a supper with them. Afterward, he gives them a new commandment. Anglican priest Arthur Stanley (1815–1881) even refers to this as an “Eleventh Commandment,” but a more apt description is that it is a third great commandment.
The two great commandments are all-inclusive in our relationship with God and our neighbor. Therefore, for a new commandment to be needed, there would need to be something unique and different, some entirely third concern requiring another commandment. And because Jesus gives it, isn’t it necessarily great?
“This cup that is poured out for you is the new covenant in my blood.” (Luke 22:20, 1 Corinthians 11:25)
“Our sufficiency is from God, who has made us sufficient to ministers of a new covenant, not of the letter but of the Spirit.” (2 Corinthians 3:6)
“I will establish a new covenant with the house of Israel.” (Hebrews 8:8) (emphasis added in all three)
A new commandment goes with the new covenant. We experience love amongst us, and the Holy Spirit releases it in us. We become the Body of Christ, his Church until he returns. “If anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation” (2 Corinthians 5:17). These new creations form a fellowship with others who will serve one another as Jesus did us when he washed the disciples’ feet. “By this, all people will know that you are my disciples” (John 13:35). Here, Jesus distinguishes between all people of the Second Great Commandment and, within that group, the redeemed people of his Church.
Just as the Israelites were a people set apart to honor God and from whom a Branch would come to save us; the Church is a place where Jesus glorifies himself through us to bring light into a dark world. We “are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for his own possession” (1 Peter 2:9). We “are being built together into a dwelling place for God by the Spirit, Christ Jesus being the cornerstone” (Ephesians 2:22, 20).
This does not break us off into an insulated tribe and create an us/them in the world. On the contrary, one of the reasons for love within the Church is to be “the light of the world” (Matthew 5:14), that “all people will know” that Jesus is among us, for “where two or three are gathered in my name, there I am among them” (Matthew 18:20). Jesus is here for his Church for the world. Paul seamlessly combines these when he says, “Let us do good to everyone, and especially to those who are of the household of faith” (Galatians 6:10). The two great commandments are not curtailed in any way. Still, this new commandment is our joy and a necessity in the Body of Christ.
We can see our new role in this fallen world through a milestone event for the Israelites. After many kings, wars, and national unfaithfulness, Nebuchadnezzar, king of Babylon, defeated the Israelites. After plundering the temple, he “carried away all Jerusalem and all the officials and all the mighty men of valor, and all the craftsmen and the smiths. None remained except the poorest people of the land” (2 Kings 24:14).
When is all, not all? When is none, not none? When those being counted are invisible, the poorest in the land. Like a nation hidden within a nation, a whole group of Israelites is not exiled. All are gone, and none remain, but these Israelites are so poor, oppressed, and inconsequential that the defeating army ignores them, and their fellow citizens abandon them. They have no power, status, or wealth to threaten or be seen by either their fellow Israelites or their conquering enemy.
Such a group of people is embedded within every nation of every age, and this is the nation to which Jesus came to minister. He is dismissive of Caesar and Pilate and rebukes religious leaders–but he dines with the poor, the sick, and the sinners. “For though the LORD is high, he regards the lowly” (Psalms 138:6). As followers of Christ, we are all in this nation because we recognize our spiritual poverty, “for all have sinned” (Romans 3:23). But having been saved by grace, we have hope in a more excellent King so, like him, we at least can reach out to the lost and the hurt while we are here.
The other reason for love within the Church is perhaps even more critical: survival as a Church for Christ’s continual work on earth through us. We are “sojourners and exiles” (1 Peter 2:11), and “Our citizenship is in heaven, and from it we await a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ” (Philippians 3:20). Like the Israelites in exile, we share a deep bond as exiles in this fallen world. Whether mildly or severely, depending on where God puts us on this earth or in what era we live, we have challenges to living a Christian life. We need each other!
We believe in his testimony, the empty tomb, and the witness of the Holy Spirit in our lives, and we find support for this journey in the fellowship of Christians. We are new people with a new Spirit, and this “new wine must be put into fresh wineskins” (Luke 5:38). These new wineskins are in a new Church with a new commandment. Jesus says in his high priestly prayer, “The glory that you have given me I have given to them, that they may be one even as we are one, I in them and you in me, that they may become perfectly one, so that the world may know that you sent me and loved them even as you loved me” (John 17:22-23). We are one with him and are commanded to be perfectly one with each other to be a light to the world.
Two Tablets, Two Great Commandments
Love the Lord your God and love your neighbor as yourself. See how these are woven together in Leviticus:
“you shall not strip your vineyard bare…leave them for the poor and for the sojourner: I am the LORD your God…you shall not lie to one another. You shall not swear by my name falsely…I am the Lord. You shall not oppress your neighbor or rob him… I am the Lord. You shall do no injustice in court…I am the Lord. You shall not hate your brother in your heart…but you shall love your neighbor as yourself: I am the Lord.” (Leviticus 19:9–18)
The Ten Commandments have commandments upward to God and across to our neighbor. These and all the Law are covered in the two great commandments, to love our God and neighbor. Notice in this Leviticus passage how, after each instruction to treat our neighbor with compassion, God repeats his Lordship over all, intertwining loving God and loving our neighbor into an interdependency that cannot be separated. We cannot love our neighbor without first loving God; we do not love God if we do not love our neighbor. John writes, “We love because he first loved us” (1 John 4:19).
Jesus says, “I and the Father are one” and “before Abraham was, I am” (John 10:30, 8:58), so the Pharisees know he claims equality with God. The message of the Ten Commandments and the Sermon on the Mount are the same, just as the message of the Old Testament and the New Testament is the same: God the Father and God the Son are ever sacrificial and merciful to forgive our sins.
“And beginning with Moses and all the Prophets, he interpreted to them in all the Scriptures the things concerning himself. These are my words that I spoke to you while I was still with you, that everything written about me in the Law of Moses and the Prophets and the Psalms must be fulfilled.” (Luke 24:27, 44)
Unsurprisingly, the Ten Commandments and the Sermon on the Mount are inseparable. The same God gives them both. Seeing the Son in the Old Testament and the Father in the New Testament is no accident. They are one, and they speak with the same voice.
They each choose the place for their discourse. Both occur on a higher place, the Law far up on the cliffs of Mount Sinai that are “wrapped in smoke” (Exodus 19:18), purposely obscuring a holy God, while the Sermon is on the gentler mount, ascended to make more visible his Son. In one, from his divine and heavenly throne, “The Lord came down on Mount Sinai, to the top of the mountain” (Exodus 19:20), while in the other, from the dust of this imperfect and fallen world, Jesus “went up on the mountain” (Matthew (5:1).
They each determine the proximity of the audience. In one, God says, “do not let the priests and the people break through to come up to the LORD” (Exodus 19:24). In contrast, in the other, “his disciples came with him” (Matthew 5:1). In one, “the people were afraid and trembled, and they stood far off” (Exodus 20:18), and in the other, “great crowds followed him” (Matthew 4:25) to hear, even to draw close enough for his healing touch.
Finally, the people respond to them. In one, they want Moses as a go-between and say, “Do not let God speak to us lest we die” (Exodus 20:19), while in the other, they sit enraptured, and “when Jesus finished these sayings, the crowds were astonished at his teaching” (Matthew 7:28). God the Father may not have been approachable in the Old Testament. Still, he sent his Son that we might approach through him. While the promise that “a bruised reed he will not break, and a faintly burning wick he will not quench” (Isaiah 42:3) is fulfilled in Jesus, it originated with his ever-merciful Father.
“Not to the terrors of the Lord,
The tempest, fire, and smoke:
Not to the thunder of that word
Which God on Sinai spoke:
But we are come to Zion’s hill,
The city of our God;
Where milder words declare His will,
And spread His love abroad.”
— Isaac Watts (1674–1748)”
This essay is part of Shadows of Christ: Twelve Essays.
thegospeloneverypage.com 