Psalm 106:7-12

Psalm 106:7-12

B.

“Our fathers, when they were in Egypt, did not consider you wondrous works; they did not remember the abundance of your steadfast love, but rebelled by the sea, at the Red Sea.  Yet He saved them for His name’s sake, that He might make known His mighty power.  He rebuked the Red Sea, and it became dry, and He led them through the deep as through a desert.  So He saved them from the hand of the foe and redeemed them from the power of the enemy.  And the waters covered their adversaries; not one of them was left.  Then they believed His words; they sang His praise.”

The sacred and fantastic stories of the Old Testament—the history of an ancient nation, through whom, when the earth was young in sin, God demonstrated His presence and goodwill, with overt manifestations of power, to guide them through the tumultuous economy of warring nations, that they may endure to birth a Savior, begotten of God—gives comfort to my heart to believe that these things happened neither according to human reason nor standard practice of nature.   And if we rightly consider it, the existence of the entire universe is of the same miraculous nature as the parting of the Red Sea.  To think all things appeared as ‘something’ out of what can only be described as ‘absolute nothing’ is just as unnatural and unreasonable as to think a sea can stand up on its hind legs to provide safe passage through an, otherwise, impassable road.  Either way, it is as if the universe is filled with the command of some personal whim to which we see it quicken, unquestionably, like a dog to the side of his master, when we see circumstances arise from conditions that are unsuited to produce them.  When we are told of, or witness a miracle, we call this ‘unnatural’, but in all actuality, in context of nature as we can perceive it, we are not communicating what is unnatural, but only recognizing that nature is behaving in a way that is ‘unfamiliar’.  If we disbelieved miracles for being unnatural, we would have to disbelieve in our own existence for the same reason since there is nothing more ‘unnatural’ than the existence of nature itself.  Therefore, when we witness, or hear testimony of nature behaving in a way that we are unfamiliar, we have no more reason to question the possibility of such occasions than we have to question the existence of all things natural.  The only reasonable conclusion, when we consider the ‘unnatural’ state of existence, and the contradictory notion of the autonomy of nature, is to believe that the state of the universe is not fundamentally unnatural, but profoundly supernatural— the consequence of the personal whim of a being from whom all things flow, and to whose will and word all things conform.  When seen in this light—for it is His light that reveals such things to our hearts—it becomes reasonable to the point of assurance that such things as miracles readily occur, and they become reminders of our God’s constant and patient attention to the quality and direction of a world that is established for our good and His glory. 

The only actual ‘unnatural’ event that occurs in the universe is when nature acts contrary to the will of the One to whom it is dependent.  There is only one creature that has the freedom to behave in such a truly irrational manner—man—and his blasphemy destroys the world with the same power he was given to enjoy it.  But God, who is rich in mercy, has once again disrupted the flow of nature, the waters of the sea, to give rebirth to a dying world with the power of the Word through which it was first created, and it is this act of immense benevolence—this grace that is deeper and wider than the comprehension of our natural experience—that men are tragically unfamiliar.  For what is more ‘unnatural’ than to justify the wicked?  What is more ‘unnatural’ than a glorious king to put on peasant’s clothing, or the righteous to fall by the hand of the wicked, or a dead man raised to life?  Though it may seem unnatural, we must not consider it so.  For, just as God has parted the waters and flooded the earth, just as He has delivered Israel from amassing armies by the hands of angels and retrieved Elijah from the ground with a chariot of fire from heaven, so will He produce a harvest of righteousness in an unworthy, ‘unnatural’ sinner if we are found to have believed His words, having known His deeds.  And when He does, not by means of our natural existence, but by His supernatural power, being redeemed from the power of the enemy, we will sing His praise. 

For this ‘reason’, I receive great comfort from the stories of old that defy my natural reason to comprehend.  For it could only be by such power that my heart will depart from the sin that it cherishes, and when all evidence proves contrary to His promise to sanctify and redeem, we must remember that it is not by our experience or our reason that we are assured of such things, but by His purpose and His power.  It is only through trusting Him amidst the unexpected and unfamiliar conditions of our lives that we become intimate and familiar, not with the natural universe, but with a supernatural God who turns it any way He will.  And it is only when we become familiar with a supernatural God that our unnatural existence returns to its appropriate place in the natural world, conformed to His word, magnifying His name.

Pillars:: Hope (A Real Story of Hope)

We just finished the first week of our new series called Pillars::Foundations of the Christian Faith. Our first Pillar is Hope. You can find the sermon here. With most of these Pillars, we will post a blog mid week following the sermon.

Brian Key is a friend of mine who lives in Kansas City and serves on staff at Redeemer Fellowship Church in Kansas City. I have spoken about Brian and his wife Kelly and the life and death of their daughter Olivia. Olivia passed away last year at the age of 3.

It was an honor to watch the Keys walk and wrestle with suffering. I asked Brian to write something about how God used the life of Olivia to give and reinforce hope. The following is Brian's response"

All of us live life hoping in something to give us joy, satisfaction, identity. Suffering reveals the trustworthiness of the object of your faith. Does it lead you to despair or hope? Throughout our time with Livi, all of the things we hoped in were stripped away. We wanted a diagnosis. We got none. We wanted medicine and therapy to work. They had some effect but didn't heal Olivia. None of the countless procedures, consultations or anything delivered what we hoped for - our daughter's wholeness.

Over time, we realized that we were hoping in the wrong thing. Our hopes were refined in the process; the dross was burned away and that which was trustworthy remained. Our faith was strengthened in the living God who is the sovereign God in the heavens who does what he pleases (Psalm 115), but he is also the loving Father who works all things together for our good (Romans 8). He promises that one day everything sad will become untrue and has made that pledge to us in the blood of his Son and sealed our hope through his resurrection. Over time, we quit hoping in things being made right now, but looked forward to the day Rev 21 will be realized, the day when all things - even Livi's broken body - will be made new. In the crucible of suffering hope was forged.

Don't get me wrong: the valley was still dark, but it was bearable because the Good Shepherd of our soul was with us in it, comforting us, giving us a hope that doesn't disappoint. Be honest, can you say that about anything else you are hoping in? Can that thing ultimately deliver what it promises? Does it have the strength to help you endure, or does it ultimately lead you to despair?

Thanks for reading.

Psalm 112:9

Psalm 112:9

B.

“He has distributed freely; He has given to the poor; His righteousness endures forever; His horn is exalted in honor.”

Giving is at the heart of the Christian soul.  It is the very thing that God has done for us.  ‘He who did not spare His own Son, but freely gave Him for us all, how will He not also freely give us all things.’  We are derivative beings who have a three-fold existence: physical, mental, and spiritual.  We are dependent upon certain conditions and resources to sustain our existence according to the way we are designed.  These are what we call ‘needs’.  They are what we must have if we are to benefit from what is called, ‘life’.  The trouble is, by taking control of our own lives, we undertook God’s responsibility to fill our needs for ourselves—a task we are existentially inadequate to do—and because of this inadequacy, we spend our lives taking from each other, and yet never seem to have enough to satisfy, thus, making us slaves to selfishness.  We rob each other of the dignity life was meant to have, and more importantly, we rob God of the praises due to Him as our Father when we compel Him to be our judge. 

To battle this inclination is to surrender our lives to God’s provision—for better or for worse.  We must learn, in all things, to full and to be hungry, to abound and to suffer need.  The notion of surrender to God is not to conform to His ‘rules’, but to allow Him to dictate how our needs are to be filled—physically, mentally, and spiritually—which begins first with Christ, the greatest gift of all, and flows through Him as we trust God to do for us all the things that we cannot do for ourselves.  Pride is the determination to fill in ourselves with what only God can give, and because we seek to take what was meant for God to give, our only means to accomplish this is to take these things from others.  We have no ability to create resources for ourselves, but only to hoard them so that we might protect ourselves—even when we do so for the sake of those we love—it is still a form of robbery.  If we are determined to depend upon our own ability to provide for ourselves, we are participating in robbery, no matter if it is only on our own account or for our own ‘herd’. 

            Though generosity is an expression of a giving heart according to physical means, a giving heart is only one that is surrendered to God—the giver of all things—and when we surrender to the manner that He has designed us to be filled, we never again have any lack.  Therefore, as we begin to trust God as giver and sustainer, we become freer with our own resources—physically, mentally, and spiritually—to give to others freely as God gives freely to us.  This is what it means to be a cheerful giver.  It means to give ‘with great amusement’, knowing the privilege of living according to the One who gives all sufficiency to us is our joy, and that what we give will be given to us—sparingly if our faith is sparing, and bountifully if our faith is bountiful.  In any case, it is only by faith that we may truly give, since it is only by faith that we live according to the One who gives all things, and through Christ, invalidates the need for us to protect ourselves.

            We must become a giving body.  Charity, in this way, is a vital ingredient in what provides for our freedom.  To believe that the provision and resource of one’s own life is the work of one’s own hand makes that one a slave to his own existence.  There are people in need everywhere, and the physical and moral poverty of men increases when the interest of the church to serve them decreases.   But, if Christ is to increase, then we must decrease, and so, our concern for our own well being.  For, all virtue comes from a giving heart since virtue is defined by the sacrifice of one’s self for others.  This is why Jesus says, “It is better to give than to receive.”  A sinful heart is bent on taking because it lacks the certainty of each moment.  A righteous heart is content to give—desiring to do so with much amusement—because he knows that God is the certainty of every moment, and to make Him known as the One who gives, we must relinquish all attachment and rights to our time, wealth, and ability for His service. 

Waiting

"On Holy Saturday there is nothing we can do except wait." - N. T. Wright

Scripture is remarkably silent on what the close followers of Jesus did the day after the death of Jesus. In fact, John 20:9 tells us, "for as yet they did not understand the Scripture, that he must rise from the dead." I believe that they were confused on that Saturday. I believe that they spent the day fighting their doubt and trying make sense of what just happened.

Jesus had been the hope and purpose for these followers for three years. They had given their lives to following him and learning from his ways and his teachings. They had left family and jobs to follow him. They had seen him heal, walk on water, cast out demons, teach with great authority. Now he was dead. Darkness and evil had won or at least was winning.

I think as much as they were mourning his death, they were confused and in great doubt. Perhaps they were even angry and for a time felt as if they had wasted the last three years. If you look at the initial encounters that Mary, Peter, John, Thomas and others had with him, the first reaction is doubt or just simply not recognizing him.

Our lives are like this cycle. We see Jesus and we connect deeply with him. He is our hope and he is our purpose. But darkness comes in and prevails for a season and we believe that darkness has won and with it we live in confusion, anger and doubt. Our hope and purpose take a hit. When we do see Jesus again, we doubt or don't recognize him.

But as these Saturdays or seasons of doubt come in our lives...the tomb is always empty. Even in our doubt, Jesus says come to me.

 

Psalm 22:1-2

Psalm 22:1-2

B.

“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?  Why are you so far from saving me, from the words of my groaning?  O my God, I cry by day, but you do not answer, and by night, but I find no rest.”

Religion is a necessity in the heart of man.  It is the function of how he reconciles his heart, which desires goodness, with a world, that though it advertises goodness, does not follow through with any version of it that satisfies.  We are born with a desire for life, and yet, from the moment of our birth, we begin the slow advance toward the moment of our death.  Despite all of our efforts to fulfill the desires we have, to defend the life we live, to protect the life of the ones we love, the knowledge of our inevitable end pronounces the ultimate failure in whatever end we seek to achieve with our lives before we even begin.  There is nothing gained that will not be lost, nothing built that will not eventually be torn down.  It is as if life is an elaborate hoax that whets our appetites for some grand treasure to be found, and we spend our entire lives digging deep below the surface.  But at the end, we find we have created nothing more than a big whole in the ground, to which we finally surrender our own bodies—spent, demoralized, and defeated—welcoming death as the only comfort to a life unfulfilled. 

In this way, we see that death, for us, is the great evaluator of life.  It is God’s intervention into our selfishness to re-teach us about the value inherent in life.  It is only because of death that we even bother about what is good.  Because of death, our life becomes a limited commodity, and by consequence, of precious value. We are forced to decide what is worth most in life so that we may spend the little time we have living for what has the greatest value.  But, the degree that man is able to perceive value in life is the degree that he is able to perceive the profundity of the inevitable loss that awaits him in death.  The height of his ability to cherish life becomes the depth of his despair in his efforts to protect what he wishes to keep.  And so, man, in his despair, turns to God, crying out, “Why have you forsaken me?  What is this life that exists to arouse my desires only to extinguish them?  I cry by day, but you do not answer, and by night, but I find no rest.”  Man needs religion, because man needs hope.  In order to sustain his life by pursuing his desires, man must have a reason to believe that his desires are worth pursuing.  In a life that is ruled by death, he has no reason to believe that value exists unless he believes that life is somehow greater than death—that goodness prevails over evil in spite of our ability to experience it.  Therefore, mankind has filled the world with his own varied interpretations of this existential necessity of religion.

Jesus Christ is one among many who have proclaimed to have the truth that every man seeks.  Jesus Christ, however, is different in one regard: He faced our enemies—sin and death—clothed in the humility of human form, and rose victorious, making a public spectacle of them in His triumph.  Jesus Christ did not merely tell us what was true when He told us He is the Son of God.  He demonstrated the word He spoke, and through the Spirit of holiness, was declared with power to be the Son of God.   Jesus Christ not only taught us what was good, but he bore the evil we bear.  He suffered the hopelessness and futility we suffer, and in His greatest moment of desperation, when it seemed like the Father had abandoned Him, He cried out as we cry out, “My God, My God, why have you forsaken Me?” 

The story of Easter is not only a story of our redemption in Christ’s conquering death.  It is the story of how He saved us by becoming like us.  He proved to us that no matter how hopeless it seems—there is always hope.  He has shown us that the unbearable can be born, and even though the world seems like darkness, the Son of Righteousness has risen with healing in His wings.  For, in Christ, we see suffering conquered through suffering, death overcome through death, weakness by weakness, and strength in surrender.  For it was fitting for Him, for whom are all things and by whom are all things, in bringing many sons to glory, to make the captain of their salvation perfect through suffering, so that we, too, may learn to battle weakness with weakness, suffering through suffering, and death by death.  If Jesus gave Himself willingly to death, with trembling, trusting absolutely in the power of God, then we must live earnestly for our captain, with much trembling, trusting in the same—for both He who sanctifies and those who are being sanctified are all one, and because one died for all in the same manner in which we live, our weakness becomes our strength.  All who live in Christ no longer fear death or live for this world which passes, but now find their value in this same death, which is to live for Him who died and was raised again—for to live is Christ, and to die is now our greatest gain.

The Lord is risen!

Happy Easter!

Psalm 32:1-7

Psalm 32:1-7

B.

“Blessed is the one whose transgression is forgiven, whose sin is covered.  Blessed is the man against whom the Lord counts no iniquity, and in whose spirit there is no deceit.  For when I kept silent, my bones wasted away through my groaning all day long.  For day and night your hand was heavy upon me; my strength was dried up as by the heat of summer.  I acknowledged my sin to you, and I did not cover my iniquity; I said, “I will confess my transgressions to the Lord,” and you forgave the iniquity of my sin.  Therefore, let everyone who is godly offer prayer to you at a time when you may be found; surely in the rush of great waters, they shall not reach him.  You are a hiding place for me; you preserve me from trouble; you surround me with shouts of deliverance.”

I cannot think of a better analogy for sin in the heart than that of drowning.  Living with sin is like treading water in the middle of an ocean.  At first it seems easy, almost as if it required no effort at all.  But then, you begin to feel a slight burn in your leg muscles coupled with an irritating thought telling you, quietly, that though you are far from the end of your effort and still able to keep yourself afloat, you cannot keep this up forever.  But, since there is still a good amount of strength left in your legs, you can ignore those thoughts for the time being.  (One’s own strength tends to obscure reality and makes it far less real to the perception.)  After a while, however, your body begins to get heavy, and it takes more energy to keep up the same effort.  You sink a little bit every now a then.  You try to take quick breaks, and your head goes under, but never long enough to the point that you cannot pop right back up again.  The quick breaks give you a false sense of regaining energy, but you soon discover that the burst of energy runs dry quickly, and now you are more tired than before.  The reality that the end of your strength is coming sooner than you expected becomes very real—like a trap—and you begin to feel trapped.  At this point, you begin to loose your sense of basic reason and think stupidly, looking around to see if there is some place you could swim to as if you were not floating alone in the middle of the ocean.  You begin to cry out for help as if someone could possibly hear you from the middle of the ocean.  When you find that you are just as alone as you were afraid of, you begin to back the resolve that you have what it takes.  You are going to do this no matter what it takes, whether hell or…high water.  You become completely focused on consciously treading water as if, if you applied your whole mind to the task, you could will the continued motion of your legs and arms.  That is when the sharks come…circling, circling, checking you out, waiting for you to go under.  There is very little time left now, and though it seems like the most absurd thought—for how could anything save you now—especially stranded alone in alone in the midst of a great sea?  But, what if—even though it is the last resort, and quite obviously a product of desperate delirium—what if God would save you if you asked?  Drowning out in the middle of the ocean with no one around but the birds, when all logic says that even if God wanted to save you, nothing could get to you in time, do you ask Him?  Or, do you give in to what appears to be the inevitable and let yourself drown?  It is an interesting question with an even more interesting answer.  For, when we ask Him, we find that salvation does not come from a speeding ship or a helicopter.  No.  He simply tells us to stop treading water and to put our feet down, and when we do, we feel the ground beneath us.  We are never too sure whether it was there to begin with or not, but we are positive, no matter what we might speculate, that to be saved from so terrible a fate is nothing short of miraculous.

            All sin creates this feeling in us, whether it is the quality of our rebellion before we bow to Christ, or when we take our eyes off of Him, and like Peter, once again, begin to sink in our sin and our troubles.  There is nothing worse than the feeling of floundering in a world that is too deep and too wide for our fragile frames.  When we try to keep ourselves afloat, our strength dries up as by the heat of summer, and we become overcome by great waters.  There is only one Rock and only one way to stand on solid ground.  We call Him the Rock, because the atonement He has won is forever underneath us and runs far deeper than we could ever fall.  For, when the cares of my heart are many, your consolations cheered my soul, and when I thought, ‘My foot slips,’ your steadfast love, O Lord, held me up.  To wrestle with sin is common to man, and the fall to sin sometimes seems too much to bear.   But, when vertigo rushes panic into our hearts and desperation to our limbs, if we struggle we will only sink faster.  We must remember not to despair.  For, if we will only cry to Him who has accounted for all sin, then He will set our feet upon the rock again.  And, though the waves crash angrily beneath us, though the wind blows furiously against us, and the gates of hell rattle with hatred, the noise that once proved terrible in our hearts cannot be heard above the shouts of deliverance from the One through whom the wind and waves were created—the unshakeable rock of our salvation—the Faithful and True, King Jesus Christ.

Psalm 144:1-2

Psalm 144:1-2

B.

“Blessed be the Lord, my rock, who trains my hands for war, and my fingers for battle; he is my steadfast love and my fortress, my stronghold and my deliverer, my shield and he in whom I take refuge, who subdues peoples under me.”

Life is war, and by identifying with Christ, we have been enlisted into battle on His account and for His purpose.  The bible lay this distinction of war upon life as a description of the type of ferocity by which we should lay of hold of the kingdom of God—the kingdom of God suffers violence and the violence take it by force.  This ‘force’ is a word that speaks of a man acting as though his life depended upon it, and the kingdom is not eating and drinking, but righteousness and peace and joy in the Holy Spirit.  Though we act with deference toward others with regard to insult, injury, and all the things in this world that are perishing, our calling is to stand firm for righteousness, and by implication, stand against what is evil, with violence—forcefulness—as if our life depended upon it.  We should not mistake deference for peace.  Peace is not a passive fruit.  It is not the removal conflict, but the strength of our defenses for what we value.  A command to turn the other cheek is not a command to be passive.  It is a principle that keeps us from returning evil with the same evil that is given, and thus, perpetuate a cycle of destruction.  But, to tolerate evil is to perpetuate evil.  Peace may not violently attack the enemy, but it certainly will violently protect what is good.  To not rebuke the oppressor, or to indulge the sinful influence of wicked men, is to be overcome with evil when we are called to overcome evil with what is good. 

            Do not be dismissive or dismayed at the metaphor of scripture to communicate life to be war.  Satan—and we should not slight the reference of our enemy—wants to deceive you into thinking that this life is not as important as we should consider it to be; that we should relax and not struggle so hard or so much; that the blessings of God are in the comforts of our lives and it is for these things that we should labor.  Through such thoughts, men are pacified to the true nature of the struggle that lay before them, and so, are diminished in their ability to perceive the existence of an invaluable goodness in truth, which if they were able to see, would give their lives for without a second thought; and it is in giving our lives for each other that we fight the oppressive evil that only seeks to steal, kill, and destroy.  Though the battle is the Lord’s, the horse is still prepared for the day of battle, and our lives should be organized by preparing our own resources to give in a time of need. We are enlisted to fight this war, because it is on our account that this war is waged, and therefore, it is not only appropriate for honor that we wage it for each other, but demanded of us that we lay our own stake in the purpose to achieve it’s outcome, which is fought for by fighting for each other.  Should we fall to apathy, as I fear many will and find that it is a much more profound sin than we suppose, we will be overtaken by the enemy and marginalized in an existence that does not suffer passivity.  For, passivity leaves the gates unguarded and the weak unprotected.

Finally, and perhaps due of greater punishment then the neglect of what is good, if we attend to fighting this battle by our own strength and counsel—not submitting before God as our wisdom, strength, and holiness—then we find that we are not only overtaken by the enemy, but we fight on his behalf, undermining the good that we proclaim through the use of God’s weapons drawn contrary to God’s purpose.  Jesus says, ‘Whoever is not with me is against me’.   If we are not found to be fighting according to God’s design then we become unwitting agents of evil and we fight to our own destruction since, if it is God’s victory, we fall by God’s sword.  We must remember we are only acting out what God has ordained.  Since it is only God’s work that has established our lives for His preordained service, our own work can only be established if it is found to rest in the power of the One who established it.  And so, we stand in the Lord and in the power of His might.

It is right to be fearful of so great a calling as the war that God’s word describes, but if the sword of the Spirit declares war upon the world, it is only because the Spirit begins a revolution in our hearts.  If the Spirit is to cause our hearts to endure in what is good, then to fight for us, He must fight against the world, and we, by the Spirit, take up arms with the Spirit—for each other and for God.  The bible was meant to inspire fear in our hearts, and we were meant to tremble at God’s word.  But, it is not a fear that leads to terror.  For terror has to do with punishment.  It is a fear that should compel us to God’s throne.  It is in receiving God’s instructions, we are made aware of our need for God’s power, and He has determined Himself to provide one along with the other.  Hope in God.  Follow Him without question, for His commands are not burdensome.  Goodness was never meant to serve our lives, but our lives for what is good.  If these commands are vague, it is only so that we, instead of being inventors of what is evil, may be creators of what is good in our designs to serve each other and to fight for each other by the power of God.