Monday, April 14, 2014

The Most Obscure (and Most Awesome) Christological Council

Note: Got a long one for you. It's been a super long time so I decided to throw something up. This is an adaptation of a Sunday School class that I recently taught on the two wills of Christ. Hopefully, it gets you thinking and rejoicing! The council in question is the Third Council of Constantinople in 681.


Well, ladies and gentlemen, we have reached our final Christology class. The premise of this class has been Right Thinking about the Most Important Person in History. Over the past few weeks, we’ve been harping on that first point: Right thinking. Teaching is a deep pervasive concern in the New Testament and in the early church and false teachers are some of the church’s greatest enemies. This is why the first 5/600 years of the church’s history were filled with controversies where the Church tried to truly articulate the faith, whether it was talking about the person of Christ or what followed from Him, the Trinity. But in the background, there was always the assumption that this was a serious endeavor. It’s really important that we see and worship Christ rightly. After all, salvation is at stake. This is why we have emphasized the full manhood and full divinity of Christ. His full humanity was absolutely necessary for him to be a proper substitute for us. This is what we see in Hebrews, specifically chapter 2:9-10: 

We see him who for a little while was made lower than the angels, namely Jesus, crowned with glory and honor because of the suffering of death, so that by the grace of God he might taste death for everyone. For it was fitting that he, for whom and by whom all things exist, in bringing many sons to glory, should make the founder of their salvation perfect through suffering. 

Down to verse 14-15, 17: 
Since therefore the children share in flesh and blood, he himself likewise partook of the same things, that through death he might destroy the one who has the power of death, that is, the devil, and deliver all those who through fear of death were subject to lifelong slavery. 

Here we see the incarnational theology of the author of Hebrews, which was articulated by Gregory of Nazianzen in this way: What was not assumed was not healed. Meaning this: Christ took up flesh and blood to redeem flesh and blood. If he did not truly take it up, it has not truly been healed. This is why the humanity of Christ is so important. When he took on our sin, he did so as one of us.

But of course, what is perhaps more important is the way in which he was not one of us, namely the fact that he is the Son of God and he never stopped being the Son of God. It is his divinity that soaks the New Testament and it is his divinity that secures our salvation. The human race never could have produced a savior. This is what the virgin birth declares to us. In the Incarnation, God becomes flesh and thus Christ is truly, in every sense, God with us. In the Son of God’s dying a human death, he is able to take the fullness of the penalty of sin for all who would put their faith in him and as a result of who He is, He is resurrected. It is the central Christian claim: that Jesus Christ, the man born of Mary, is and has always been the Second Person of the Trinity, the Word of God, the Son of God. These are grand statements. But they are grand statements that have been proclaimed in the church throughout its history and we must be willing to proclaim them today.

In our past classes, we’ve discussed a number of heresies. We began with Docetism and Psilanthropism, which denied either the humanity or divinity of Christ. We then dealt with Marcionism and its disjunction of Christ from the God of the Old Testament. Then we moved into Arianism, which sought to separate the Son from the Father and make Christ merely a created being, which would hurl us irredeemably into idolatry. As a response to Arianism, the council of Nicaea happened, which was really a Christological statement that Christ was, is, and always will be as much God as God the Father and God the Holy Spirit. Then last week, we got into some more intense Christological heresies: Nestorianism, where the idea is that God conjoined himself to a man, Eutychianism where God basically absorbed a man, and Apollinarianism where God basically possessed a man. The response to these was the Council at Chalcedon. Here is the articulation of the full manhood and divinity of Christ, in unity, such that there is only one subject that we read in Scripture. Not a human Christ and a divine Christ, but one Christ.

Now all of that can seem very heady. It can seem very out there. This is why I’ve attempted to emphasize the fact that the Church spent so much time hashing this stuff out because salvation was at stake, specifically that there was a kind of Person Christ had to be in order to save us from our plight. But there is a focus that I have slightly neglected. And it is one that we shall take up today through a very close look at a momentous episode in Christ’s life: the agony in the Garden of Gethsemane. Some have asked questions about this and you will be pleased to know that there was an entire council that was basically focused on this dilemma.

First, what is at stake? Take a look at Mark 14:32-36.

It’s that last verse that started to freak people out. Jesus says, “Not what I will, but what you will.” What does that mean? Is there a divided will in God? Is our salvation based on a battle of wills within God? The Church would say no and there was a man who suffered greatly to champion this view. His name was Maximus the Confessor. Why was he called the Confessor? Because this was the name that the church gave individuals who suffered for the faith but not unto death, as the martyrs did. Maximus lost his tongue and his right hand, defending the doctrine that I am about to tell you. Here goes.

The Fall really messed us up. It got to us at the level of our will, meaning, quite simply, the things we want. As a result of the Fall, our desires are divided. Vertically, our desires are divided between God and other things, which become idols. As a result, it bleeds into all of our life. Horizontally, we constantly have to deal with the division of caring for the people around us (Who do I prioritize? My family? My friends? My coworkers?) Our wills are even divided within ourselves as we make moral decisions. We’ve got to deal with the constant confusion of choice. For Maximus, Christ also came to save us from that. Confusion. And we see the perfect picture of that in Christ. Specifically in that phrase, “Not what I will”. What does Christ will? That the cup of his suffering be removed from him. What is that cup? Why is his “soul sorrowful, even to death”? Why does Luke record Christ’s agony, as he sweats great drops of blood? Because Jesus knows that he’s about to die. Not only is he going to die, but he’s going to lose everything dear to him. The Incarnation, from his birth to this point, has been the story of loss.

Philippians 2: Christ Jesus, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant. 

The Incarnation begins with an emptying. The Son of God, in a way, leaves the Father and partakes in flesh and blood. 

2 Corinthians 8:9: You know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though he was rich, yet for your sake he became poor, so that you by his poverty might become rich. 

He not only took on flesh, but he took on hungry, tired, poor, homeless flesh. And that wasn’t all. 

From Mark 14 on, you see the most harrowing descent in human history. He knows that his friends are going to betray him. His closest buddies who he has been ministering with for years will fall asleep when he needs them to pray and they will run when he needs them to stay. He will be tried and he will be crucified and he will die abandoned. This is the agony. This is the cup that he wishes the Father to take from him. Origen, one of the really Early Church Fathers interpreted this in a macho way, saying that when Jesus said “Remove this cup from me”, he was saying, “Father, is this it? I could take more”. The Scripture seems to explicitly undercut that. This is our Savior at his lowest point. But the upshot is the next part. Not what I will, but what you will. This is the doctrine of the two wills of Christ. That Christ has both a human will and a divine will, but they are never in conflict or confusion. In fact, in Christ, his human will is always perfectly submitted to his divine will. This is how he both willed and worked our salvation. As God, he willed it with the Father and the Holy Spirit. As man, he became, for the sake of that salvation, obedient to his Father unto death, even death on a cross. He accomplished this great feat for our sake.

He did this not only to show us one of the many things that he saved us from, namely the confusion of our own wills, but also to show us what He is shaping us into. The issue with Monothelitism (the teaching that Christ only had one will) was that it meant that salvation depended on the human will being overruled and essentially smashed by God. Maximus’ idea of salvation, in fact the more biblical understanding of salvation, was that it is a rebirth, a regeneration effected by the Holy Spirit. It is a reorientation of our desires over the course of our lives so that they find their greatest joy where they should: in God. It is a reorientation that will be fully completed in the end, when our bodies, our entire selves, are fully and completely redeemed and perfected. When not only will we not sin, but it won’t even be possible for us to sin. This is the day that He is preparing us for. And when we see Christ, we not only see our Savior but we see our Brother, in that when that defeated enemy, Death, touches us, it does so to bring us over the threshold into eternal blessedness that we will share with our God. When we will see His face and His name will be on our foreheads. And night will be no more. We will need no light of lamp or sun, for the Lord God will be our light, and we will reign forever and ever.

So practically? Christology gives you the reason to persevere. A deep love for the person of Christ reminds you of the depth of His sacrifice and the nobility and the glory that he has prepared for you. It is with this ever before us that I will end with these words of Paul in Romans 8:18-25, which are about you and I:  
“For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us. For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the sons of God.  For the creation was subjected to futility, not willingly, but because of him who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to corruption and obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God. For we know that the whole creation has been groaning together in the pains of childbirth until now. And not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies. For in this hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what he sees? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience.”

Let our hope be rooted in the person of Christ. Not only what he has done, but who He is. Because it is into His image that we are being conformed. 


Let us eagerly await our adoption.