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Every day, the church is becoming more like the world it allegedly seeks to change. – George Barna
How we live influences others as they make decisions that will walk them into eternity.
When Graham Cyster was smuggled into a Communist cell of young people fighting apartheid in South Africa, he was eager to share his faith with them. They were hoping for an alternative to the radical philosophies they embraced.
Cyster presented the gospel of Jesus Christ to his listeners. He told them that faith in Christ transforms people and inducts them into a body of believers in which there is neither Jew nor gentile, black nor white, male nor female, rich nor poor.
The young people listened raptly. One young man said, “That is wonderful! Show me where I can see that happening.”
Cyster was caught off-guard. He admitted he could not think of one place in South Africa where that was truly being lived out by believers. “Then the whole thing is a piece of sh—,” the young man spat in contempt. He later died in the fight against apartheid without ever knowing Christ.*
Most of us rarely get such a glimpse of the brutal realities of the spiritual war that wages around us. What we say and do is too often all about us. We forget that how we live influences others as they make decisions that will walk them into eternity.
Without the power of a changed life, Christianity becomes just another alternative lifestyle. True Christianity isn’t a philosophy, a set of rules, or a positive force to guide our lives. It’s radical, life-changing, demanding. It’s stepping out of slavery to the devil into servanthood to God.
The chains have been replaced with bonds. We serve Him, not to get saved, but because we have been saved.
Whether or not we acknowledge it, we are ambassadors of a higher kingdom.
We wear Christ’s brand, and people are watching. They hope to see something supernatural. Something real. Something worth living for.
What are we giving them? How are we representing the kingdom of God to a world dying to know? If our actions turn them away from a living faith, is their blood on our hands? Do we care enough to live salvation out loud in our words and actions?
As obedient children, do not be conformed to the former lusts which were yours in your ignorance, but like the Holy One who called you, be holy yourselves also in all your behavior; because it is written, “YOU SHALL BE HOLY, FOR I AM HOLY.” -1 Peter 1:14-16
A life of holiness isn’t about following the rules. It’s about being ruled by Christ. We may be the only face of the Savior others ever see.
Holiness matters.
*from The Scandal of the Evangelical Conscience
Why don’t Christians live what they preach?
By Ronald J. Sider
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So then it does not depend on the man who wills or the man who runs,
but on God who has mercy.
– Romans 9:16
The futile race to the top
He sits on a riding lawnmower as he trims the lush green lawn around his house. In this old commercial for a finance company, the owner sports an overdone grin as he recites his many achievements for the camera: a four-bedroom home; wife and kids; a great job; membership in the local country club; a pool.
In the next breath, plastic smile firmly in place, he confesses he can barely pay his finance charges. He begs, “Will somebody please help me?”
The pressure to perform begins early for most of us. The race for the first word, first teeth, and first steps is soon followed by pre-school, dance classes, swimming lessons, and sports. By the time we’ve finished high school, we’re supposed to be well on the way to a successful career.
The incomes have to be better, the homes bigger, the resumes fatter. Keep working. Keep ahead of the competition.
Keep scaling the ladder of success.
We squander the treasure of our youth clawing upward rung by rung, only to make a bitter discovery at the end of our lives: The ladder leads nowhere. In the final years we are left to face the oblivion of old age and death.
Thousands of years ago, a young man was on a similar journey. Sent by his parents back to his ancestral home to find a wife, Jacob travelled alone until dark. Knowing he would have to spend the night under the stars, he found a stone and used it as a makeshift pillow.
That night he had a strange dream. In this dream a ladder was set on the earth. Its top reached into heaven. Angels were using this ladder as a highway from heaven to earth. God stood at the top of the ladder and proclaimed a blessing to Jacob and his descendants. In awe Jacob called this place the house of God and the gate of heaven.
Jacob went on to have a couple of marriages, lots of kids, and more than his share of trouble. God established an entire nation of people through him before he returned to the dust.
The dream lay in obscurity for thousands of years, until it was interpreted one day by a carpenter.
Not just any carpenter, Jesus was a different kind of builder. He worked with wood, but He came to be the ladder to heaven’s gate, spanning the gulf between heaven and earth.
Jesus answered and said to him, “Because I said to you that I saw you under the fig tree, do you believe? You shall see greater things than these.” And He said to him, “Truly, truly, I say to you, you will see the heavens opened, and the angels of God ascending and descending on the Son of Man.”
– John 1:50-51
Because we all die, the ladder to success is a one-way trip to oblivion. The only ladder that matters is the one reaching eternity. Religion is the vain effort of man to bridge the gap between him and God. Religion ends in the cry, “Will somebody please help me?”
Only in the person of the God-man Jesus Christ is the void bridged between heaven and earth. His body, offered in sacrifice for our sins, became the holy stairway to heaven for which we long. With Him, we can leave the futility of this world behind. In Him we find the gateway to eternity.
In Him, an old dream becomes hope for a new life.
But God, being rich in mercy, because of His great love with which He loved us, even when we were dead in our wrongdoings, made us alive together with Christ (by grace you have been saved), and raised us up with Him, and seated us with Him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus, so that in the ages to come He might show the boundless riches of His grace in kindness toward us in Christ Jesus.
– Ephesians 2:4-7
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Now the Philistines took the ark of God and brought it from Ebenezer to Ashdod. Then the Philistines took the ark of God and brought it into the house of Dagon, and placed it beside Dagon.
– 1 Samuel 5:1-2
Do we live as if God is a token deity in the pantheon of belief systems?
From the waist up, Dagon was a man. From the waist down, he was a fish. This burly “merman” was the god and protector of the sea-faring Philistines.
Shortly after the young Israelite Samuel became a prophet of the Lord, Israel went to war with the Philistines. The Philistines defeated the army of Israel and took the ark of God in triumph. They placed it in the temple of Dagon as a symbol of the merman’s power over the God of the Israelites.
They were about to learn a critical lesson: The ark of Israel wasn’t just a trinket in the march of the gods. And the God of Israel wasn’t just another token deity in the pagan pantheon.
As the sounds of celebration waned in the hours after the battle, night settled over the Philistine city of Ashdod. Within the dark interior of the temple, in the stillness, there was a stirring.
Then there was a thud.
The next morning, the Ashdodites found Dagon on his face before the ark of the Lord. They assumed he fell over and set him back up in his place.
The next night was again shattered, this time in a crash as the stone fell before the breath of God.
Early in the morning, the Ashdodite worshippers arrived at Dagon’s temple to find him on his face before the ark. This time, his head and hands had broken off on the temple threshold when he fell. The implication was clear. This was a vanquished enemy.
Soon a deadly outbreak of boils fell upon the entire city’s inhabitants. Trembling, the Philistines quickly returned the ark to Israel. Their merman was no match for the God of Israel. Their god was the creation of their own hands. The God who watched over Israel was real.
You are the greater temple, in whom dwells the living God.
Is your enemy tormenting you today? Does it look like there is no deliverance for you? Do you wonder if your prayers fall upon deaf ears? Does it feel as if the devil parades your failings before the world?
Take heart. You have not come to the temple of the merman, nor even to the old temple of God. If you have surrendered your life to the Lord of Lords, you are the temple of the living God. He hears your prayers. He is real, powerful, and very much alive.
But you have come to Mount Zion and to the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem, and to myriads of angels, to the general assembly and church of the firstborn who are enrolled in heaven, and to God, the Judge of all, and to the spirits of the righteous made perfect, and to Jesus, the mediator of a new covenant, and to the sprinkled blood, which speaks better than the blood of Abel.
– Hebrews 12:22-24
Throw your trust on Him today. Walk in His righteous and toss away your idols. Listen for His voice. He is speaking; and He says this:
There is only one God. And He is mighty.
Behold, the LORD’S hand is not so short
That it cannot save;
Nor is His ear so dull
That it cannot hear.
-Isaiah 59:1
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I will never desert you, nor will I ever forsake you.
– Hebrews 13:5
Failure is a human condition.
One month ago she climbed a silo at an abandoned concrete plant and jumped to her death. Before that day, twelve-year-old Rebecca Sedwick endured nearly a year of bullying by as many as fifteen girls in attacks that began at school and continued online after Sedwick’s parents removed her.
There had been warning signs. Last December, she was hospitalized after slitting her wrists. People knew she was sad. Her death and others like it have led to a rush of community soul-searching. Her mother wrote a birthday message on what would have been Sedwick’s thirteenth birthday, saying, “I feel like I failed….” *
Don’t we all? Every day and in many ways? We’re just flesh and blood; clay houses for the soul. We regularly fail ourselves; our God; each other.
Because we live with failure every day, it’s hard to comprehend a Father who never fails. Because we are guilty of desertion under fire, we can’t fathom a God who has promised to fight for us. Because we don’t understand His ways, we struggle to trust Him in the desperate hours when He seems to have abandoned us.
Have you prayed to God fervently, only to be met with silence?
Do you live with unremitting pain? Does it feel like nothing ever changes for the better?
Do you feel utterly alone in your crisis?
Jesus knew what it felt like to be forsaken.
At His execution there was no place for Him in either heaven or earth. On the cross He hung utterly alone, the object of the full wrath of God. It was not because His Father wanted to hurt Him, but because Father and Son and Spirit knew it was the only way to spare you.
Bloodied, bruised, and dying, covered with the filth of a billion sins, Jesus cried out:
My God, my God, why have you forsaken Me?
That is why you can never be forsaken by God. That possibility was taken away when Christ accepted God’s wrath upon His own head, borne out of His great love for you.
Because we live in a fallen world awaiting the final redemption, we still have sorrow. Life will be filled with trials as we complete our pilgrimage to the holy city awaiting us in heaven. God has promised that for those who accept the sacrifice of Christ, hardship works for our good, teaching us perseverance and compassion for others.
This should inspire us to reach out to those we see suffering in silence around us. No person should live without knowing the comfort of the Holy Spirit. It is up to us, His hands and feet and heart, to reach out with His love to those like Rebecca who are hurting today.
You are not forsaken. God has written this in His blood. Accept this, trust in His faithfulness, and share His comfort with others as you await the day you fully understand why.
*http://www.cnn.com/2013/10/20/justice/rebecca-sedwick-bullying-death/index.html
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Look at the ships also, though they are so great and are driven by strong winds, are still directed by a very small rudder wherever the inclination of the pilot desires. So also the tongue is a small part of the body, and yet it boasts of great things.
– James 3:4-5
Life and death are in the power of the tongue.
Some time ago, the week’s news was dominated by the revelation of the public verbal slip-up of a well-known politician. A botched speech at a university lit up the talk radio phone lines for days, evoked ridicule from both sides of the aisle in Congress, and sent the senator beating a hasty retreat home in shame.
As his grand ship of ambition crashed against the cruel rocks of media scrutiny, he was left to watch his dreams fill with water and turn belly-up in the foam left by the furor.
The storm of protest he inadvertently created centered around one Freudian slip of the tongue. No matter whether a person cheered or lamented this man’s political demise, the implication is sobering. Most of us don’t have the world’s spotlight on our every word, but we are all one sentence away from destruction at any time.
Words are powerful. Words hold the power of life and death. Words can kill, and words can raise the dead. The world itself was spoken into being (Genesis 1). With a word it will end (Revelation 19:21).
Rarely do we understand the power of our own words.
Our words reveal our hearts:
The good man out of the good treasure of his heart brings forth what is good; and the evil man out of the evil treasure brings forth what is evil; for his mouth speaks from that which fills his heart.
– Luke 6:45
The book of James devotes an entire chapter to the power of the tongue, comparing it to the little rudder of a ship. Just as the course of a huge vessel is directed by a small rudder at the order of the pilot, so we direct the course of our lives by our speech. As the pilot commands the rudder, we command our tongues, either allowing them loose rein or steering our way carefully away from treacherous reefs and toward safe harbor.
Since we all “stumble in many ways,” the safest course is to follow the leading of the apostle Paul in presenting our bodies a living and holy sacrifice, therefore allowing God to be the Captain of our vessel, the Master Pilot of our journey. In that way, we live each hour under His control, weathering the storms safely and finding grace when we veer off course. Then His words become ours; His mercy is poured out through us to others.
If we immerse ourselves in the love of God and His truth, it can’t help but become the storehouse of our hearts to guide our lives and season our speech with grace.
The tongue of the righteous is as choice silver.
-Proverbs 10:20
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In the last days mockers will come with their mocking, following after their own lusts, and saying, ‘Where is the promise of His coming? For ever since the fathers fell asleep, all continues just as it was from the beginning of creation.’
– 2 Peter 3:3, 4
There is blood in the streets, in the homes, in the land.
During the twenty-year-old war in Syria, more than 100,000 people have died, and over 2 million Syrians have fled to nearby countries. There appears to be no hint of resolution as the region rages with hate.
In the neighboring countries, believers living there share what they have with the refugees. Teams of Christians share medical supplies, spiritual help, and the Gospel with the displaced Syrians.
They used to be called “infidels.” Now they are often referred to as the “Bible People.”
Despite the dangers of being a Christian in these countries, these persecuted people continue to faithfully reach out to the hurting. Because of their faithful witness, thousands of Muslim refugees have accepted Christ as their Savior.*
The Lord is not slow about His promise, as some count slowness, but is patient toward you,
not wishing for any to perish but for all to come to repentance.
– 2 Peter 3:9
In the heart of Africa, the Lemba Tribe practices ancient rituals. Their skin is black, but DNA testing has confirmed this tribe in Zimbabwe to be descendants of the priestly Jewish tribe of Levi. Jewish Voice Ministries International reports that through their medical clinic outreach, more than 5,000 members of the Lemba Tribe have become believers in the last year, embracing Jesus as their Messiah.**
This gospel of the kingdom shall be preached in the whole world as a testimony to all the nations, and then the end will come.
– Matthew 24:14
Around the world, we see the brutal evidence of dark forces at work.
But our favorite news show probably won’t report the great harvest being brought in at this midnight hour. Christ is still about His Father’s business, the Head and great communicator to millions of cells who are His hands and feet, hard at work establishing a kingdom of hearts united in praise to the Creator.
And what a harvest it is! What a bountiful return on the investment of God’s Spirit to His fields!
Sometimes it feels like Jesus Christ will never come back for us. Believers have hoped for over two thousand years to see His beautiful face, to hear the cry of victory announcing His return. His apparent slowness is not because He doesn’t care, but because He loves the world so much, He hates to send anyone to destruction.
So He labors in those white fields, bringing in all who will come before the door closes forever.
The fields are white. The harvest is in full swing. The end is coming.
*From information provided by Voice of the Martyrs.
**From information provided by Jewish Voice Ministries International
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Do not judge so that you will not be judged.
– Matthew 7:1
Do you not know we will judge angels? How much more matters of this life?
– 1 Corinthians 6:3
It’s been a long day. I finally flop down on the sofa, turn on my favorite sappy TV show, and tell my family with a wink, “Don’t judge me.”
Some days later I’m on the phone trying to work through a difficult and dangerous situation that touches my life. The person on the other end of the line dismisses my concerns, telling me, “I’m not going to judge.” The understood subliminal message: Like you are doing.
Judge is a word cloaked in daggers. It evokes visions of stern-faced men in powdered wigs and black robes. Its mere mention is accusatory, heaping suspicion on anyone who risks asking a question.
How many times have you heard the words of Jesus in Matthew 7:1: “Do not judge”?
How often has someone quote these words of Jesus from John 7:24: “Do not judge according to appearance, but judge with righteous judgment”?
How do we reconcile the two?
For one thing, it’s helpful to realize the New Testament uses different Greek words for the word judge.
Krino speaks of a judgment brought in by an officer of the court, and therefore an official pronouncement.
Anakrino means to “examine, investigate, question.” *
Diakrino refers to using discernment.
Today the word judge has come to mean “condemn.” But there is so much more to judging than that. In Christ, God has granted us the authority to correctly decide the affairs of men in this age in preparation for the age to come. We are commanded to question, examine, investigate, and discern the spirits behind the events in our lives. We are to conduct ourselves in wisdom, speaking the truth without condemnation.
God’s the ultimate Judge. His judgments will not only to put an end to evil, but they will reward those who received the King’s ransom for their sins, escaped the punishment they deserved, and served their Lord with passion. Until then, the job of those who follow Jesus is to practice discernment and extend the grace so hard won by the Savior.
Question. Investigate. Discern. Seek out the truth. Save the pronouncements for the ultimate Judge.
Therefore do not go on passing judgment before the time, but wait until the Lord comes who will both bring to light the things hidden in the darkness and disclose the motives of men’s hearts; and then each man’s praise will come to him from God.
– 1 Corinthians 4:5
*Taken from Vine’s Greek New Testament Dictionary http://gospelhall.org/bible/bible.php?search=anakrino&dict=vine&lang=greek
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When there is no light by which to read the music, those who know their God by heart play on.
–Joni Eareckson Tada
She sat on a stage at a large conference in the Philippines, excited to be in that exotic country.
Quadriplegic artist and disability advocate Joni Eareckson Tada enjoyed the musical performance of a band of Filipino musicians as heavy rain typical of the monsoon season fell outside the huge hall.
Suddenly, as Mrs. Tada relates in her book, A Place of Healing, the boom of thunder shook the place. At the same moment, the entire hall went dark.
Unfazed, the musicians continued to play. It didn’t matter to them that there was no light by which to see the score. They knew the music by heart.
This group of musicians were blind.
They must have invested many hours of practice in order to play an instrument in the first place, and even more to be able to play together in a band. They had to learn the music by ear, since they could not read it for themselves. They had to listen carefully to each other. It must have taken great discipline and a true love for music.
They hadn’t prepared specifically for a blackout.
Learning the music by heart was the only way they could play, given their limitations. But it made them ready for any eventuality. Nothing could take the song from them.
Too often I count on yesterday’s light for each new day. When I get blindsided by unexpected trials I find myself panicking, instead of trusting in the score written on my soul.
What storms assault you today?
Have you ever felt stranded in the dark by unforeseen circumstances? How can any of us live above the shadows that threaten to still our faith?
It’s simpler than we think.
When the world crashes in, sit in His presence. Quiet your mind. Listen for the music playing in your spirit.
There it is! Can you hear it? See, you know the words. It’s the Song of the Redeemed.
When the storms thunder around you, the rain falls, and your world is smothered in darkness, you know what to do.
Play on.
And they sang a new song, saying, ‘Worthy are You to take the book and to break its seals; for You were slain, and purchased for God with Your blood men from every tribe and tongue and people and nation.’
‘To Him who sits on the throne, and to the Lamb, be blessing and honor and glory and dominion forever and ever.’
– Revelation 5:9,13
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Your ears will hear a word behind you, “This is the way, walk in it.”
– Isaiah 30:21
The jet-black night was alive with intense pinpoints of light that mocked the beam from my husband’s flashlight.
It was dark, and we had taken the challenge from our daughter, son, and daughter-in-law to get our feet wet in the restless waves teasing the beach outside our vacation home.
I followed closely behind my husband as he led the way on the narrow path through the beach grass. My aging legs groaned as I dug my heels into the deep sand and pushed forward.
We broke out into the open expanse of beach. The moon was a red sliver hanging in the sky. The ocean’s roar beckoned from somewhere far ahead of us. I drew a large arrow with my foot in the sand to point the way to the beach house, and we walked on.
We finally hit wet sand and skittered through little pools of sea water. The sand was teeming with some sort of hopping insects.
Onward we walked toward the sea, a bit more cautiously now. Where was the edge of the water?
A chill ran through me. I looked back toward our beach house. The lights had disappeared behind a sandy berm. The town lights seemed distant against the hulking, forested hills we could not see but knew were there.
Still we walked. Sky and water and land melded into a vast void. We were very far out from the high tide mark. The only sound was the deafening waves.
I stopped, suddenly afraid.
A newspaper headline popped into my head: TRAGEDY AT THE BAY: TOURISTS SWEPT OUT TO SEA.
By this time, my husband was having second thoughts, too. We conceded defeat and trudged the long walk back to the beach house. It was a relief when our flashlight found the arrow in the sand marking the correct path through the beach grass.
We never did get our feet wet in the waves that night. But I was reminded just how easy it is to lose sight of my boundaries and the importance of knowing the way home.
People often think the Bible is a book of rules. Humans hate to be told what to do. We love the thrill of walking the edge of danger. Because we live in New Testament times, the age of grace, it’s tempting to fudge the standards set forth by God’s Word. He’s already forgiven us, right? Wasn’t it all settled at the Cross? Aren’t we really free?
So we flaunt God’s mercy. We plunge ahead with the light we have. We ignore the boundaries.
Then one night the darkness threatens to swallow us whole.
God’s Word is not a set of regulations to keep us in line. It’s the ship coming to rescue us from the deep. It’s the beacon in the storm, the light directing us past the shoals to safety.
It’s a word behind you saying, “This is the path.”
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Blessed are those who hunger….
–Matthew 5:6
His eyes are icy blue pools in a sea of brown mink.
His long teeth protrude slightly from under his upper lip, reminiscent of some distant saber-toothed relative. He purrs softly as he rubs his nose against my hand in a blatant bid to be petted.
I run my hand along his back and wince. His backbone is a jarring reminder of his recent health struggles. I can’t get our aging Siamese cat to eat and it’s driving me crazy. We’re hoping more tests at the veterinary clinic will diagnose the problem.
We love him so much. He’s been such a wonderful companion that it kills me to see him grow this gaunt. He looks like he’s survived his own personal holocaust, and I don’t know why.
Do I look like that to God?
Does it hurt Him to see me lurch along the dry valleys without cracking open the Bible, trying to live on yesterday’s meal? I sense the gnawing inside me, but I’m too distracted by what’s happening in my world to recognize the hunger.
God is urgently calling.
Sin commands the airwaves of my existence in this society. Wickedness flaunts her gaudy dress everywhere my eyes rest, until I look away in embarrassment. Then it gets easier to not bother looking away. I am conquered by the shock and awe of the bombardment, felled not so much by the sins of commission as by one sin of omission.
I haven’t been to the Table.
God is urgently calling.
The Spirit gives me a glimpse of my condition. I’m stunned at the sight. There is little flesh beneath my sagging faith. Then I feel the weariness the battle against my soul has produced. I recognize the raging hunger and thirst.
God is urgently calling.
I’m tired of compromise, fed up with just surviving, and finally listening. The craving is pure in the yearning; holy in the seeking; powerful in the fulfillment. God’s Word corrects my path, cleanses my heart, inspires me onward. He speaks to me gently, like the good Father He is. God never berates me for waiting so long. He simply fills me—rejoicing in my prayer, dancing over my tears of repentance, calling me to lift my empty hands to Him. He is always there, and His provision is abundant.
Why do I wait so long? Are you starving, too?
Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness,
for they will be filled.-Matthew 5:6 NIV
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How blessed is the man whose strength is in You,
In whose heart are the highways of Zion!
Passing through the valley of Baca they make it a spring.
– Psalm 84:5-6
The night eased toward early morning.
I tossed in my bed trying to shake off the day’s burdens so I could sleep. I knew sleep wouldn’t come, though.
It’s a rule. Moms can’t rest until their young are back home from wherever they’ve been in the night. I thrashed and prayed in the darkness until I heard the sound of tires crunching up the gravel driveway. With a sigh of relief, I whispered a prayer of thanks.
Shortly the back door burst open and they came spilling breathlessly into the kitchen, shattering the midnight pall that lay over the house. The Christian concert had done a good job of electrifying the group. They were filled up, spilling over. The wave upon which they rode crested and tumbled out ahead, crashing into my ears with the clean sound of pure joy.
In the darkness I soaked in the rush of God’s presence that washed through the house and ebbed into swirling little pools teeming with life. It made me long for more of God.
When did I get so dry?
At a community well over two thousand years ago, a thirsty woman met a man in Samaria who would change her life.
She didn’t know she was parched; it was the tired traveler asking for a drink of water. She was surprised a Jew would talk to a Samaritan. She didn’t dream she was talking to her Creator.
This man didn’t need her to give Him water. He called the first molecules into being by the power of His word alone. He could have commanded rivers to arise at His feet.
Instead, He sat at the well and stayed thirsty. He waited for her, for the moment she would meet her Maker and He would quench her thirst.
Water that is living is on the move. It doesn’t collect in stagnant pools. It erupts to the surface from the Rock beneath our feet, clean and pure and alive.
It’s impossible to be contained. The force of its power brings it upward, outward, flowing onward to renew all it touches.
Those who love the Master are His fountains, conduits from the source to the surface from which the Spirit reaches out to a dying world. It’s His desire that we allow this outflow to be unrestricted, unimpeded, and unashamed of the joy with which it flings itself toward the sky.
Life is our Baca, the valley of weeping. As we pass through the desert we call Life, we will encounter much sadness and shed many tears. But if God’s presence dwells in us, we will leave it a different place, a well-spring of life that will never run dry.
Anyone who believes in me may come and drink! For the Scriptures declare, ‘Rivers of living water will flow from his heart.’
– John 7:38 (NLT)
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I will remember my song in the night. – Psalm 77:6
It was one of those days, he was tired of the maze
Struggling in the mud and the mire.
The rage in him grew before the day was through
The insults fed the smoldering fire.
That was the day I just happened to get in his way.
And his heart roared “No mercy.”
As was done unto him, he would do.
So he looked to the sky, shook his fist, and cursed me.
Ground me down to size under his shoe.
Safe back at home, cold as a stone,
I thought about his words and his ire.
The rage in me grew before the night was through
My mind fed the smoldering fire.
That was the day my family happened to get in my way.
And my heart roared “No mercy.”
As was done unto me, I would do.
So I looked to the sky, shook my fist, and cursed them.
Ground them down to size under my shoe.
I felt it then, the tears of my friend.
He was weeping, my Savior and King.
The words on my tongue that had wounded and stung were an ugly, unthinkable thing.
I fell to my face, reeling in my disgrace.
My sin was now easy to see.
My hard heart was broken, my fears finally spoken.
I begged Him to make me free.
That was the day His grace took my darkness away.
And He cried out, “Father, forgive them;
for they do not know what they do.”
He shed His blood, looked to the sky, and forgave me.
Ground my enemy down to size under His shoe.
Then He knelt down beside me and held me as He whispered three words:
Pass it on.
Be kind to one another, tender-hearted, forgiving each other, just as God in Christ also has forgiven you.
– Ephesians 4:32
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Moreover, I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit within you;
and I will remove the heart of stone from your flesh and give you a heart of flesh.
-Ezekiel 36:26
It clanked unceremoniously as it goose-stepped around the living room, a silver contraption of motors and noise.
Occasionally it stopped and lowered its jaws as it emitted a metallic bark.
It was the newest Christmas toy, the toy every child had to have that year. Our daughter begged until we relented and plopped down the hideous ransom for a robotic dog.
At first, it was novel. You could program it, and it was fun to watch it parade around and bark.
For a day or two. Then the constant grinding of gears became annoying. The novelty quickly wore off. It didn’t take long for the toy to wind up on our daughter’s closet shelf.
Then she wanted a real dog, a request that didn’t get answered for many more years. We knew a real dog couldn’t be set on a shelf when she tired of it. It would need constant care and companionship. It would take commitment and a certain level of sacrifice to invest into a pet. If it disappointed her, she still had to care for it and love it.
She was a young adult when she finally got her dog, a golden retriever-Australian Shepherd mix that was the runt of the litter. Lucy was a rambunctious puppy that tried the patience of all of us. She took forever to house-train. She chewed up shoes and furniture and garden hoses. She dug holes in the yard.
She captured our hearts.
Lucy died of congenital kidney failure at the young age of three. Our daughter cradled Lucy’s head and wept as she went to sleep. In the years between, Lucy gave us much joy. She grew out of her puppy ways and became a gentle friend, tender and sweet and attuned to every mood of her family. She gave us unconditional love and her complete trust, even in the last days when she endured our desperate attempts to save her life.
It’s been two years since we lost Lucy. Her picture still sits on our daughter’s desk, a bittersweet reminder of the joy and sorrow of her brief life. Who knows where the robotic dog is. No one cares.
Life is messy.
When trial and heartache descend upon us, it’s tempting to challenge God’s wisdom in allowing so much pain in our world.
After all, He’s God. He could have made us without the ability to choose wrong and right, perfect specimens parroting His praises into eternity. Metallic mouths with which to sing to His glory.
Sitting on His shelf.
Instead, He longed for friendship, for true companionship. It was a yearning so deep He was willing to pay a hideous ransom and the deepest sacrifice of heaven. He was willing to open Himself to rejection and scorn to win the prize of our trust and unconditional love. To Him, we are worth the discipline and work and sorrow.
He wants the praise that comes from our lips to come from our hearts. Living, beating hearts.
Hearts that choose to love.
For God so loved the world…
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Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, rejoice!
-Philippians 4:4
A dear family friend died a few years ago.
Knowing how beloved she was in the community, we guessed the memorial service would be packed.
We arrived at the large Lutheran church long before the service began, but the main sanctuary was already full. We opted for the balcony instead of the extra seating provided in a side room. The balcony offered a panoramic view of the scene below. Above us, the cathedral ceiling soared to breathy heights.
The organist and pianist played our friend’s favorite hymns in magnificent tandem. The pastor was appropriately genial and compassionate. Flowers overflowed the altar next to the urn containing the remains of the beloved wife, mother, aunt, and friend. A smiling portrait sat beside the urn.
But I couldn’t take my eyes off the mourners. At the invitation, friends and family members stood one by one and gave touching remembrances of the woman they loved. They were sad, of course, in losing this dear lady. Something else, though, infused the air, a breathy golden lightness flowing from the faces and the words and the smiles and the tears. I suddenly knew what it was:
Joy.
This amazing woman faced death with the same smile with which she faced life. She lived her last days as she lived her life, simply and thoroughly soaked in the presence of her God. She enjoyed every day she was given to its fullest. And she trusted God for the rest.
After the service we stopped at the local DIY’er supply store to pick up some insulation for my husband’s shop. While my husband found his supplies, I drifted the aisles preoccupied, still mulling over the sights and sounds of the memorial service.
I was lost in these thoughts in the cabinet aisle when we ran into another acquaintance of ours, a woman who had recently lost her husband. Her pain was fresh, the emotions raw. The three of us talked for what seemed like forever. Though I’ve never suffered her loss, I knew the look of desperation that lined her face and quivered in her voice.
The eternal always lurks just below the waterline of our lives.
Having endured my own desperate days, I understand the pain. But as I sit here this morning, as dawn threatens to chase away the dreary night once again, my mind wanders back to the flowered altar and the joyful portrait of a lovely woman who now beholds the face of her Lord. I yearn to live, like her, smiling at the future.
May God continue to remind us that death has been cheated, that we do not mourn as those who have no hope, and that joy is possible – even expected – for us.
Joy really is a choice, after all. We can dwell on our pain, or we can dance in the rain. For this moment, for today, through the power of the Spirit of Life, I want to be different.
Lord, teach me to smile.
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You will seek Me and find Me when you search for Me with all your heart.
– Jeremiah 29:13
Something is going on inside me.
It’s not sadness. It’s not depression. It’s…longing. Lately, an intense spiritual yearning has awakened in me. It sends me into God’s Word and drives my spirit to prayer. It consumes my days and sends me brooding into the night.
I need God.
No, I’m not a new Christian, and maybe that’s the problem. I’ve walked with Him for many years, through regular seasons of soul-drought and faith-feast. At times, He’s taken me to the soaring heights of His fellowship; and at times, He’s stepped back to let me trudge through the valley of the shadow without so much as a glimpse of His beautiful face. Through the years, He’s pushed me, prodded me, blessed me, sent me to my room, held my hand, left me to my own devices, driven me to the edge of trust, and gently drawn me ever upward toward His glorious light.
Just when I think I know Him, when I think I have this relationship down, He comes roaring into my heart, a silent howl reminding me that the God-shaped hole inside me is not a box but an ever-expanding universe. His call is unrelenting and as sure as a homing beacon. He will never be content until everything I am is submitted to Him and my spirit has returned to His rest.
He’s not doing it because He is an ego-maniac, but because He is a loving Father. He wants me to live in victory, in peace, and in holiness. He’s preparing me in one age for life in another.
He’s calling me out.
Out of complacency. Out of the “little sins.” Out of fear, mistrust, and bitterness. Out of the safety of anonymity.
He’s calling me into the Light.
Who knows what the next day will bring? Our world lies in chaos; humanity totters collectively on the brink of disaster. All I know is that it’s not going to be enough to be a casual Christian anymore. It’s going to take complete commitment to live in victory in the days that are about to come upon us. God is stirring up His people – I feel it deep within my soul.
Can you feel the Hunger? God is on the move.
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God sees not as man sees,
For man looks at the outward appearance,
But the LORD looks at the heart.
-1 Samuel 16:7
It had been a terrible week.
Everything that could go wrong, had. I was teetering on the edge of the precipice separating grace and a bug-eyed fit. Walking in grace had recently become more of a lurch lately as I struggled through a difficult relationship situation. As I replayed the perceived indignities I’d received at the hands of the perpetrator, the irritation inside me grew, urging me onward toward a “justifiable” confrontation. How good it would feel to take the plunge and have that bug-eyed fit!
God’s Spirit quietly counseled me otherwise. He urged me to extend grace to this person.
Frankly, I wanted to be mad.
As I drove down the city street simmering in the juices of my righteous indignation, I spotted a small, crooked figure limping down the sidewalk.
I honestly couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman. A rumpled head of short, red hair crowned a twisted body clad in Bermuda shorts and a deep purple t-shirt.
The person obviously struggled with a handicap of some kind. I started to look away, still preoccupied. As I got closer, however, my dismissive attitude went down in flames.
Emblazoned on the front of the purple t-shirt in large white letters were these words:
THE GREATEST BATTLES
ARE THOSE WHICH ARE
FOUGHT WITHIN
Ouch.
An instant pang of regret shot through me.
How much like God to send such a humble messenger to remind me of my own cracked soul and how every struggle is really a battle for our hearts.
Man might be influenced by outward appearances, but God never is. That day I, the one more outwardly “together,” was the one truly flawed.
Which is more crippling, our inward or outward blemishes? Should not I, who need grace so much, be all the more eager to give it?
After all, isn’t grace a gift given to the undeserving? And wouldn’t the undeserving be…
…me?
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And if one member suffers, all the members suffer with it;
If one member is honored, all the members rejoice with it.
– 1 Corinthians 12:26
He stood at the front of the church, his hands stretched toward God as he prayed.
Someone walked by and told him, “You look stupid in those shorts.” That someone became one of the youth leaders.
A young disabled man’s family was chastised because his coming to Easter service caused the church to have to open up extra seating—which “ruined” the lighting for the presentation.
Two young women in Gothic dress showed up in a church service. They were openly mocked by church members for the way they looked, and they never returned.
A couple nervously entered a church for the first time and chose a place at random in the pew. A church member was annoyed they had taken her usual place and let them know it.
God help us.
The Body of Christ derives pleasure from self-mutilation. It’s perverse because we are, after all, one body. Some of us are toes. Some of us are hearts. Some of us are sweat glands.
All of us are necessary.
Regardless of our church affiliation, Christians agree that Jesus, as the Head, is glorious. But from there down, the rest of the Body gets a little strange. The way some of us treat each other, we look more like a Frankenstein’s monster than the body of a King.
The world sees Christ’s followers as a whole, and when we wound another part of the Body, it doesn’t make us look better, it makes the whole Person of Christ look dysfunctional. The Body shames the Head.
The damage we inflict on others can only hurt us. When our toe is injured, our whole walk is affected. The natural reaction is to favor the wounded toe, get help for it, and rejoice when it’s healed.
Wouldn’t it be amazing we if took that kind of care for each other?
Jesus loved His Body so much He sacrificed everything for it.
He remains so well-connected to us that He feels every pain, as well as every joy. He is not a long-distance God. He grieves over the injuries we inflict on ourselves and each other in His name.
Let’s quit killing ourselves. The Lord deserves better than this. So do the people He loves. If we shielded each other instead of throwing darts, if we treated each other with gentleness and common courtesy, others could look at us and see Christ’s Body as the fully living creature it was meant to be.
His Majesty would receive the honor He deserves if we acted more like the royalty we are, not in self-righteousness, but in dignity and kindness and loyalty.
Be kind to yourself today, church.
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He made Him who knew no sin to be sin on our behalf,
so that we might become the righteousness of God in Him.
-2 Corinthians 5:21
scapegoat [ˈskeɪpˌgəʊt]
n
- a person made to bear the blame for others*
In recent months, Washington, D.C. has been shaken by a series of scandals.
One particularly nasty one involved the targeting of groups perceived to be politically dangerous to the administration by the Internal Revenue Service.
When the scandal broke, the administration called the actions the work of a few “rogue agents.” It’s a useful political tactic we’re used to seeing: Throw the blame on a lesser being and send him to the gallows. It gives the impression of cleansing whatever party is in power and deflects criticism.
We call the people who get thrown under the bus “scapegoats.” The concept is rooted in Old Testament law:
Aaron…shall take the two goats and present them before the LORD at the doorway of the tent of meeting. Aaron shall cast lots for the two goats, one lot for the LORD and the other lot for the scapegoat. Then Aaron shall offer the goat on which the lot for the LORD fell, and make it a sin offering.
Then Aaron shall lay both of his hands on the head of the live goat, and confess over it all the iniquities of the sons of Israel and all their transgressions in regard to all their sins: and he shall lay them on the head of the goat and send it away into the wilderness by the hand of a man who stands in readiness. The goat shall bear on itself all their iniquities to a solitary land; and he shall release the goat in the wilderness.
– Leviticus 16:7-9, 21-22
It hardly seems fair. Two totally innocent creatures had to be killed annually to pay for the sins of the nation. This day was known as the Day of Atonement, and it served to cleanse Israel before God. It was an imperfect process, however, without power in itself to remove sin. A weary people carried their sins all year until the ceremony, only to begin another cycle of sin. No power was imparted to walk away from the bondage of evil.
The Law was the schoolmaster to teach us to recognize our transgressions.
The goats offered as a sin offering and scapegoat were only shadows of The Sacrifice to come. No mere creation could release God’s world from itself. It would take a perfect, innocent Lamb from another realm with the power to carry away the sins of mankind and to lead us into freedom from its bondage.
Think of the love God has for us to create such an elaborate plan for our redemption. Think of the patience with which He waited to execute the rescue. Think of the pain He suffered to gain our release.
Treasure it with all your heart. The scapegoat has carried every dark secret of your life away into the wilderness. The Innocent One has washed your black heart with His blood. You are freed from sin and empowered to live in holiness as your gift back to Him.
All He asks in return?
Go, and sin no more. – John 8:11
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I would rather stand at the threshold of the house of my God than dwell in the tents of wickedness.
– Psalm 84:10
You are not a beggar.
At the hour of prayer, the disabled man lay at the gate of the temple in Jerusalem, carried there so he could beg for money from the people entering and leaving the place of worship.
As the disciples John and Peter approached the gate called Beautiful, the man began to plead for money.
Peter replied, “I do not possess silver and gold, but what I do have, I give to you: In the name of Jesus Christ the Nazarene—walk!”
Peter took the beggar’s hand and pulled him to his feet. The man was instantaneously and completely healed, freed to enter the temple and worship with the others.
He didn’t just walk through the gate, though. He walked and leapt and praised God for joy, offering the unrestrained worship of a man snatched from the pit of hopelessness.
The Psalmist declared it better to live in the dirt, heat of the sun, cold wind, and drenching rain, than in a palace where evil rules. Such promise dwells at God’s doorway, worth suffering deprivation to watch the glory even from afar.
The outskirts, though, is not where God wants us. Jesus told the church at Philadelphia:
He who is holy, who is true, who has the key of David, who opens and no one will shut, and who shuts and no one opens, says this: ‘I know your deeds. Behold, I have put before you an open door which no one can shut, because you have a little power, and have kept My word, and have not denied my name.’
– Revelation 3:8
You are not a beggar. God has not brought you to the Holy City to lie outside His door and survive off the blessings of others. You are worth far more than silver and gold.
God wants to heal you, to bring you to the place where you can fully enter into His presence—face to face.
Not just walking. Leaping for joy. Praising His name. Filled with hope for the future.
You may have waited many years for God to heal you. You have leaned hard against the gate, suffering hardship but driven by a deeper yearning to be close to Him. You could not stay away. You thought no one even noticed you were there. But God knew, and He knows the loyalty with which you have kept His Word.
It’s a new day.
The door is open. He is near; He searches for those who are completely His. Ask Him today how to step through the entrance into full worship and service to Him. He longs to set you on your feet and through the gate called Beautiful to discover all that is waiting for you. That may or may not include physical healing.
In the name of Jesus Christ the Nazarene—walk!
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The Lord is with me like a dread champion.
-Jeremiah 20:11
The two men squared off and eyed each other as the opening bell rang. One man was already viewed as the underdog, having lost the first match to the same fighter seven months earlier.
Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous!
Do not tremble or be dismayed, for the LORD your God is with you wherever you go.
-Joshua 1:9
The two men circled the ring, each looking for weakness in the other. Evander Holyfield dominated the first two rounds. Mike Tyson, the challenger, opened the third with a furious assault. In the remaining seconds of the round, Tyson suddenly bit off part of Holyfield’s ear and spat it out onto the canvas.
Do not fear or be dismayed…for the battle is not yours but God’s.
-2 Chronicles 20:15
The fight was delayed while the referee decided what to do. Finally, Holyfield was declared fit to continue the fight.
The LORD will fight for you while you keep silent.
-Exodus 14:14
The men returned to the center of the ring. Inexplicably, Tyson bit Holyfield’s other ear. They finished the round but the referee stopped the fight at that point and disqualified Tyson. Holyfield was declared the winner. Tyson was declared a loser.
In an odd footnote, Tyson later apologized for his behavior to Holyfield on the Oprah Winfrey show, which Holyfield graciously accepted.
“For the eyes of the LORD move to and fro throughout the earth
that He may strongly support those whose heart is completely His.”
-Chronicles 16:9
Sometimes we know what battles lie ahead. Other times, the blows are low and unexpected and dirty. The attacks we don’t see coming are the ones that hurt.
If you’re feeling beat-up this week, take heart. The battle’s not over. Your opponent has already been disqualified. Don’t throw in the towel just yet. Finish the round and let the Lord fight for you.
And be ready to forgive, because you’re going to win.
“In all these things, we are more than conquerors through him who loved us.”
-Romans 8:37 (NIV)
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