Favor for the Foreigner

Posted on April 19, 2017 by Pete

She had made the call. She was all in. Ready to leave her home and her homeland. Prepared to venture into the unknown. A Moabite by birth, she was now prepared to be an Israelite by choice. If her mother-in-law was determined to go back to her people, then Ruth would go too, and Naomi’s people would be Ruth’s people.

But I’m thinking this morning that these sort of things are not usually a unilateral decision. You don’t just get to choose the team you want to play on. The team has to choose you too. There’s no joining the club, if the club won’t have you. There’s no going to the party, unless someone let’s you in at the door. And, even if you should sneak in unawares, there’s no staying once your discovered unless the host will have you.

So, big risk on Ruth’s part. But, by faith she follows Naomi. Devoted to her as if to her own mother. Ready to exchange her people and heritage for Naomi’s. All in, owning Naomi’s God as her God. But would Naomi’s people receive Ruth? Would their God own her? That, as they say, is the question (or, the questions, as the case may be).

Fast forward to a field owned by a man named Boaz. A man of wealth and reputation, of influence and power. And Ruth makes another unilateral decision, “Let me go to the field and glean” (Ruth 2:2). His field, will be my field. Yeah, but only if he let’s her stay.

So she goes and picks up the leftovers. And when Boaz sees her, he picks up on her. He finds out it’s Naomi’s daughter-in-law. And then the rich and powerful man of Israel addresses the nobody from Moab.

Then Boaz said to Ruth, “Now, listen, my daughter, do not go to glean in another field or leave this one, but keep close to my young women. Let your eyes be on the field that they are reaping, and go after them. Have I not charged the young men not to touch you? And when you are thirsty, go to the vessels and drink what the young men have drawn.

(Ruth 2:8-9 ESV)

Boaz give her’s a place, “Stay here, don’t leave this field.” He gives her a peer group, “Keep close to my young women.” He gives her protection, “I’ve ensured the young men won’t touch you.” And he promises on-going provision, “When you’re thirsty, drink freely.”

She picked his team. And he picked her. She asked, he gave. She knocked, he opened the door. And the privilege is not lost on Ruth.

Then she fell on her face, bowing to the ground, and said to him, “Why have I found favor in your eyes, that you should take notice of me, since I am a foreigner?”

(Ruth 2:10 ESV)

I hover over these words and they are my words. For I too was a foreigner, “separated from Christ, alienated from the commonwealth of Israel and strangers to the covenants of promise, having no hope and without God in the world” (Eph. 2:12). And like Ruth, I too found favor in the eyes of a Redeemer. But here’s the thing, before I picked Him, He chose me. Before I determined to seek Him, He was already drawing me. Before I knew enough to even want to enter His field, He had made ready a place, a peer group, sustaining protection, and an eternal provision.

My name having found a place written in His book. Adopted as a son, counted as one of the Family, and wired in as a member of the Body. His seal of protection on me–the power that raises from the dead inside me, making me an overcomer, “for He who is in you is greater than he who is in the world” (1Jn. 4:4). And springs of living water forever available, every thirst satisfied, every hunger met in Him.

Spend but a few minutes considering it and going facedown just seems the right thing to do.

Why have I found favor in Your eyes, that You should take notice of me, since I am a foreigner?

Favor for the foreigner. Blessing for the beggar. Grace for the gleaner.

Behold, the Redeemer. To Him be all glory!

Amen?

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Bitter Theology

Posted on April 18, 2017 by Pete

Started in on Ruth this morning. And, not too surprisingly, found myself entering into Naomi’s story a bit more personally than in the past. Not an easy road for that lady. Went through tough times and famine, but at least she did it with her man, Elimelech. They then make the call to relocate with their two boys to a foreign land in pursuit of a better life. But her husband dies way too soon. And though she sees her boys grow up and take wives, she never sees grandchildren from them as they both die prematurely, as well.

Or was it prematurely? My wife would have said no. That no one dies early. That God has numbered all of our days according to His plan. Sue acknowledged it confidently and without fear. Even hopefully, believing fully that the end of our days here is only the beginning of an eternity in His presence. Naomi also acknowledged that God was sovereign not only over all of life but over death as well. But her’s was a bitter theology.

Though her widowed daughter-in-laws wanted to return with her to the homeland, Naomi’s seeks to dissuade them:

“Turn back, my daughters; go your way, for I am too old to have a husband. If I should say I have hope, even if I should have a husband this night and should bear sons, would you therefore wait till they were grown? Would you therefore refrain from marrying? No, my daughters, for it is exceedingly bitter to me for your sake that the hand of the LORD has gone out against me.”

(Ruth 1:12-13 ESV)

“The hand of the LORD has gone out against me.” That was Naomi’s cut on her life circumstance. Can’t really blame her for feeling that way.

But one of the girls, Ruth, pledges her love and devotion to Naomi and determines she will faithfully remain with her mother-in-law until nothing but death parts them. But even that bit of sunshine in her cloud-filled world isn’t enough to re-direct Naomi’s perspective on God’s sovereignty. When she and Ruth return to Naomi’s home in Bethlehem, she insists she no longer be called Naomi, which means “My Delight”. Rather, she wants to be addressed by something more in line with her worldview, “Bitterness.”

She said to them, “Do not call me Naomi; call me Mara, for the Almighty has dealt very bitterly with me. I went away full, and the LORD has brought me back empty. Why call me Naomi, when the LORD has testified against me and the Almighty has brought calamity upon me?” (Ruth 1:20-21 ESV)

The hand of the LORD against her. Her God deciding to swap out her fullness with emptiness. Having set Himself against her, the Almighty determining to bring calamity upon her. The Sovereign having sovereignly determined to fill her life with bitterness. What’s to delight in? Just call me Bitter. And I get it . . . to a degree.

But I know the end of the story. That a nobody Moabitess, Ruth, would be redeemed by a wealthy suitor, Boaz. That a baby would be born and a bitter grandma would be blessed. And that through that baby a royal line would be established, a forever throne promised, and a soul-saving King sent. That sin would be atoned for, death would be conquered, and joy never-ending made available.

And so, while I get the bitterness, I’m also reminded of the better-ness . . .

For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us.

(Romans 8:18 ESV)

For this slight momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal.

(2Corinthians 4:17-18 ESV)

So don’t call me Mara . . . I’ll take Naomi.

Because of grace. For His glory.

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Shadow Living

Posted on April 17, 2017 by Pete

Usually, we don’t think of living in someone’s shadow as a good thing. We tend to connect living in the shadow of someone else as feeling unsuccessful in comparison with their successfulness. If I live in the shadow of my dad, it’s because he’s viewed as the accomplished one and I feel like I am perpetually coming up short of who he was or what he did. To be in his shadow usually means that everyone knows his name, and they know me just as his son. No, shadow dwelling isn’t something we aspire to in our culture.

But as I read Psalm 91, it occurs to me it’s all about whose shadow we’re talking about. And if it’s the Almighty’s, then why would we desire anything other than shadow living?

He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will abide in the shadow of the Almighty. I will say to the LORD, “My refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust.”

(Psalm 91:1-2 ESV)

There’s no competing with the glory of God. No usurping His might and power. No place for the creation to boast before the Creator. Such thinking is folly. So, in that sense, everyone is in God’s shadow, whether they acknowledge it or not.

But for those of us who seek His shelter, who desire to pitch our tent in His presence, and determine to take a seat and abide at His feet, we know something of the full blessing of shadow living.

We know the cool of the day, regardless of how much things heat up. We find refuge, even in the most severe of tempests. We remain secure, despite the attacks of the enemy. There is protection in shadow living. Amen?

For the One who casts the shadow has promised to deliver those who find refuge in Him. To deliver, first and foremost, from the wages owed because of sin. To rescue from a debt no one has any hope of repaying. To provide payment in full through the finished work of Christ on the cross so that all who seek the shadow of the cross might know deliverance from sin and death.

But beyond that, because we have made the Lord our dwelling place and the Most High our refuge, though the going may get tough, we’re still able to keep on going. Not in our strength, but in His power, the power of shadow living. Not because of how good we are at enduring, but because of how great His grace is towards meeting our need. Not by our might or power, but by His indwelling Spirit. Delivered once from sin and death, carried on His wings daily as we deal with trial and temptation.

And there’s another thing about shadow living. It’s transitory. Our lives are but a shadow. The toil, trial, and testing are but for a relatively short period of time when we consider that He has wired us for life everlasting and redeemed us for eternity. The shade will give way to light. The clouds will pass. Times of darkness we know are fleeting. And, in knowing that, we whose lives are but a mist find all-sufficient strength for the day as we rest in the shadow of the Almighty.

Shadow living. No place I’d rather be. Happy should those around me know of His greatness more than my own. Blessed if I’m known only as His son.

By His grace. For His glory.

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Fully Known

Posted on April 13, 2017 by Pete

Opening up 1Corinthians 13 usually evokes two streams of consciousness. The first encompasses Paul’s inspired definition of love, and thus of the Savior. For if love is patient, kind, without envy nor boast, and not arrogant or rude. If it is not self-serving, nor irritable or resentful. If it shuns wrongdoing but rejoices in the truth, bearing all things, believing all things, hoping all things, enduring all things. Then, if God is love (and He is, 1Jn. 4:8) , and if Jesus is God (and He is, Jn. 10:30), then Jesus is the embodiment of the greatest of all virtues, love. And there is enough in that alone to feed one’s soul.

The other area of awe and wonder that is evoked from reading this portion of Scripture comes from trying to fathom what it will be to see “face to face.” The reminder that, though we were once blind but now we see, we still only see in a mirror dimly. “We’re squinting in a fog, peering through a mist” (MSG). But a day is coming when the fog of faith will clear and we will be in His presence, and then we will see more clearly than we ever could have imagined. Meal number two served up.

But this morning, something else grabbed me as I hovered over 1Corinthians 13. Not necessarily a new thought, but one that’s been brought to mind from a new place. The reminder that I am fully known.

For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I have been fully known.

(1Corinthians 13:12 ESV)

Whatever I imagine it to be when I see Him face to face and to “know fully”, that is how He knows me, even now. Though I wait for the day when faith will give way to sight, when my somewhat cloudy mirror will become a clear and transparent glass, the Father sees me today with perfect 20/20 vision. His Son, the Great Shepherd, knows this sheep, fully and perfectly, nothing hidden.

Fully known. Thoroughly acquainted with. Accurately aware.

As I head into this day, I’m reminded that He is aware of my thoughts and feelings, of my triumphs and failures, of my tendencies toward temptation and my desire to be faithful. As I have thought before, while it can be somewhat intimidating to consider that I am fully known by a Holy, Holy, Holy God, there is also something incredibly comforting, and even empowering, that comes from the fresh realization that I am fully known by a Good, Good Father.

He fully knows all our anxieties, and still calls us to cast them upon Him (1Pet. 5:7). It’s with full awareness of our weariness and burdens (both external and self-imposed) that He continues to invite us to come to Him and find rest for our soul (Matt. 11:28-29). Thoroughly acquainted with every thorn in the flesh, He assures us, “My grace is sufficient. See My power made perfect in your weakness” (2Cor. 12:9).

While we now see in a mirror dimly, He doesn’t. Though we wait for face-to-face, He knows us through-and-through. Whatever we can imagine it is to “fully know”, even now, we are fully known.

O LORD, You have searched me and known me! You know when I sit down and when I rise up; You discern my thoughts from afar . . . and are acquainted with all my ways. . . . Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is high; I cannot attain it. . . . How precious to me are Your thoughts, O God! How vast is the sum of them!

(Psalm 139:1-3, 6, 17 ESV)

Then I shall know fully, even as I have been fully known.

Because of grace. For His glory.

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Wasted Worship

Posted on April 12, 2017 by Pete

Worship is a terrible thing to waste. Technically, there’s only so much of it anyone can give. Only so much energy that can be called upon for worship, only so much time available to be directed toward worship. And the only thing worse than wasting our worship on the wrong things, perhaps, is wasting our worship on the right things. Worse than bowing down to idols is throwing away our offerings to the One who alone is worthy of worship. But that’s exactly what the religious elite of Jesus’ day were doing.

And the Pharisees and the scribes asked [Jesus], “Why do Your disciples not walk according to the tradition of the elders, but eat with defiled hands?” And He said to them, “Well did Isaiah prophesy of you hypocrites, as it is written, ‘This people honors Me with their lips, but their heart is far from Me; in vain do they worship Me, teaching as doctrines the commandments of men.’ You leave the commandment of God and hold to the tradition of men.”

(Mark 7:6-8 ESV)

Unwashed hands. That was their beef. Not just that they weren’t clean, but that Jesus’ disciples were neglecting the ceremony. Less about dirt under their fingernails, all about the pious demonstration of self-declared holiness. The Pharisees and scribes were sticklers for making sure that after coming out of the marketplace, the place where commoners hung out, that everyone saw them washing their hands before putting any food in their self-proclaimed righteous bodies. Not a command of God. A tradition of men. Ostensibly to honor God, in actuality to exalt themselves. Wasted worship.

Not that a habit of hand-washing couldn’t have value. Just that it didn’t. How come? The proximity of their heart.  Rather than a heart that drew near through their actions, it was heart far away.  Unengaged.  Focused on the practice, disinterested in the Person.  A far away heart, that’s what wastes worship . . . even rightly directed worship.

They were concerned more about going through the motions than they were entering into the meaning. All talk, no heart. Wasted worship.

They kept an eye on the crowds to make sure the crowd was keeping an eye on them through all their ablutions and oblations. Right routine, perhaps. Wrong reason. Wasted worship.

Holy action designed to please or impress men. Righteous ritual that meant nothing to God. Wasted worship. All because of a heart that was not pursuing the One who delights in real worship.

I can’t imagine a worse indictment, “In vain they do worship Me.” The sacrifice of their lips, fruitless. The tithes they offer, worthless. The disciplines they practice, useless. All because of the proximity of their heart. All dependent on whether they were seeking to draw near or not.

How I need to guard my heart. Only so much energy available to worship. Only so much time. Only one living God worthy.

And only one way acceptable. With a heart that desires to draw near. A heart with its affection set on Him who alone is to be worshiped. A heart in humble obedience, more concerned about following the commandments of God than the traditions of men. A heart which doesn’t waste worship.

By His grace. For His glory.

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All My Springs Are in You

Posted on April 11, 2017 by Pete

I guess singing about a city isn’t all that unusual. After all, for some, Chicago is “my kind of town”. For others, they left their heart in San Francisco. And somewhere, some really, really bad weatherman wrote that the bluest skies you’ve ever seen are in Seattle (maybe, but they’re way above the rain clouds). So this morning I’m hovering over the psalmists’ city of choice to inspire a song, the city on the hill, Zion.

On the holy mount stands the city He founded; the LORD loves the gates of Zion more than all the dwelling places of Jacob. Glorious things of you are spoken, O city of God.   Selah

(Psalm 87:1-3 ESV)

It was the city founded of God. The place where He determined His glory would dwell. The city He loves.

Not because of its architecture or its rich history, but because of its people. For those who sojourned to the city were those who sought to pursue God. To enter its gates was to draw near to Him who occupies the holy of holies. And so, God delighted in those who owned Zion as their kind of town. He rejoiced over every pilgrim whose heart was captured by Jerusalem. What’s more, of those born there, there was a special distinction.

And of Zion it shall be said, “This one and that one were born in her”; for the Most High Himself will establish her. The LORD records as He registers the peoples, “This one was born there.”   Selah

(Psalm 87:5-6 ESV)

The Most High Himself registers those born in Zion. He takes special note of those who are citizens of the city of the living God. And this morning, in a spiritual sense, I’m claiming such a citizenship. That by faith in the finished work of the Son, through the regeneration of the Spirit, I have been born again and adopted of the Father and declared a citizen of the heavenly Jerusalem.

That’s why I too love the city. That’s why I have any desire to pursue her through pilgrimage. And that’s why the last line of the songwriter’s song resonates so deep this morning.

Singers and dancers alike say, “All my springs are in you.”

(Psalm 87:7 ESV)

I’m thinking that’s the reality a believer should desire. That every need be met on His holy hill, satisfied through the presence of the Savior. That from the place where God’s glory shines our thirst would be met, our comfort would be found, our strength would be sourced. That we would know the eternal and limitless cisterns of Zion to fuel every inspiration, form every motive, and be the catalyst for every joy. That our sufficiency would be in Him, and Him alone.

And when that reality is experienced, then hear the singers sing and see the dancers dance as they rejoice in the One who delights in them.

All my springs are in You, LORD. Let it be so.

Because of Your grace. Only for Your glory.

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A Gladdened Soul

Posted on April 10, 2017 by Pete

There’s praise amidst the problems. Worship despite the worry. Thanksgiving even among the threat.

That’s the overall sense I get as I noodle on Psalm 86 this morning.

It’s a song of David. A “poor and needy” David as a “band of ruthless men” have risen up against him and seek his life. David’s cry, “all the day,” has been “preserve my life.” When the going get’s tough, time to cry out!

But here’s the thing, even in his desperate situation, it’s not all 9-1-1 prayers. Though David repeatedly asks God to be gracious to him, though he pleads with God for grace to find strength, though he cries out, “Show me a sign of Your favor”, still the song is also heavily waited with worship. Though “in the day of trouble” David calls on God, he also renders to God the honor and glory due His name.

There is none like You among the gods, O Lord, nor are there any works like Yours. All the nations You have made shall come and worship before You, O Lord, and shall glorify Your name. For You are great and do wondrous things; You alone are God. Teach me Your way, O LORD, that I may walk in Your truth; unite my heart to fear Your name. I give thanks to You, O Lord my God, with my whole heart, and I will glorify Your name forever. For great is Your steadfast love toward me; You have delivered my soul from the depths of Sheol.

(Psalm 86:8-13 ESV)

David’s not just lobbing some last-ditch attempt, “hail Mary” pass as he cries out for God’s intervention. Rather, he calls upon the God whom He has known. Known through the sacred record of Moses as the God who called Abraham with a promise and delivered the children of Israel from Egypt with a vengeance. Known experientially, having himself been called of God to the throne, empowered of God to slay the giant, lifted up by God to experience the mountain top, and cared for by God in valley after valley. David cries out to the God who he has known, again and again, as the One who proves Himself faithful.

And so while he knows the need for the day is great, David also knows that His God is greater. Though there is a pit in his stomach as he awakes and wonders how he will combat his enemies this day, there is also praise on His tongue as he remembers that there is none like His God–the God who has promised never to leave him nor forsake him. So while he might want to refuse the day before him, yet will He rejoice in His God who walks beside him.

Gladden the soul of your servant,
for to You, O Lord, do I lift up my soul.   (Psalm 86:4 ESV)

Our God rejoices the soul lifted up to Him. He puts praise on the tongue of those who will take but a few minutes to meditate on Him. He gives a new song to the voice that will declare, despite the circumstance, “Thou art worthy!”

A gladdened soul . . . regardless of the circumstance. Because of a good, good Father . . . who never changes.

Praise Him for His abounding grace. Worship Him for His everlasting glory!

Amen?

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The Great Context

Posted on April 7, 2017 by Pete

There seems to have been an on-going debate within the Corinth church. To eat, or not to eat–that is the question. Is food offered to idols fair game for the dinner table now that we are free in Christ? Or, should it be rejected as we seek to serve the one true God and Him alone? And Paul spends a good portion of 1Corinthians (8:1 – 10:33) addressing the question.

For Paul it seems it wasn’t about showing the right allegiance among competing gods, for “there is no God but one”. But rather it was a matter of the heart, and of motive, and of conscience, and of caring for others. The knowledge of freedom was not to be an excuse to get all puffed up with an “I can do whatever I want” sort of attitude. Even if in their blood-bought liberty they had the “right” to such food, they should also recognize they had the liberty to give up their rights for the sake of others–especially those others who were being tripped up in their faith because of such displays of culinary freedom.

They were to guard against an arrogance that would tempt them to see their liberty in Christ as permission for license concerning things of the world. To drink the cup of the Lord and the cup of demons made no sense. To partake of the table of the Lord on Sunday morning but be at the table of demons on Friday night only runs the risk of provoking the Lord to jealousy. Uh, uh! Don’t do it, says Paul.

While something might be technically lawful, argues Paul, it might not be helpful. While it might be permissible, “not all things build up.” If one man’s liberty is another man’s stumbling block, then maybe the freeman in Christ should consider taking a pass on his liberty. “Let no one seek his own good,” writes Paul, “but the good of his neighbor” (10:24).

Kind of radical thinking. Sort of upside down in a culture where the mantra is often “pursue your own path.”

Live my life mindful of it’s impact on others? Abstain from perfectly good meat if it runs the risk of weakening the conscience of another? Really? Why would I do that?

Short answer: The great context.

So, whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God.

(1Corinthians 10:31 ESV)

Do all to the glory of God. Whatever you do–regardless of whether it’s considered sacred or secular, or whether it’s in private or in public, or whether it’s about feeding or fasting, or what you say or what you listen to, or who your with or who you choose not to be with–do it all to the glory of God. Whether it’s weeping or rejoicing, confidently walking a path or cautiously seeking the way, proclaiming great victory or healing after a heart-breaking defeat–all of it, do it for the glory of God.

That’s the great context for the believer, the over-arching umbrella for the follower of Christ. Whatever. All of it. Do life in such a way that the God whose Name we proclaim might be highly esteemed. That His love would be known because we love. His light might shine because we shine.

Not that we are anything in and of ourselves. Not that we are up to such a task in our own strength. But that we believe that what God has called us to do, He will enable us to do. If then we are to live all of life in this great context, then He will supply the power through His great abundance.

For God, who said, “Let light shine out of darkness,” has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ. But we have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us.

(2Corinthians 4:6-7 ESV)

Oh, that whatever lies before us this day, we would go out mindful of the great context which should guide all that we do.

That by God’s grace we would seek to do all things for God’s glory.

Amen?

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The Valley of Baca

Posted on April 6, 2017 by Pete

Around this time 5 years ago, Psalm 84 showed up on my reading plan. It was a little over 8 months since Sue’s tumor had surfaced and the multiple brain surgeries had been performed. The intense radiation was over and we were winding down on the chemotherapy. While it had been a hard journey, we marveled that while so much had happened, by God’s grace, so little had changed. Unbelievable. But it hadn’t been easy. Such was the context for the thoughts that morning as I hovered over the psalm.

A year ago, about 8 months after the re-diagnosis, a couple of cyber-knife procedures, and a couple failed chemo treatments, there was Psalm 84 again. And again the heart was stirred by what awaited the pilgrim journeying to the Holy Mount and the reminder that between here and there lay a valley.

Re-read both those devo’s this morning . . . a few times. And God used them again to minister to my heart. Thought I’d share 2012’s musings as this morning’s meal.

=================================

Oh, to have the heart of the sons of Korah. The heart that seeks the presence of God. The heart that is prepared to do the journey in order to be in His courts.

You got to love Psalm 84! If ever there was a psalm that invited meditation, it’s this psalm. If ever there was a song that stirred the soul, it’s this song. You can sense the intensity of the composers’ desire for the courts of the LORD. Their longing to be as close to Him as someone can be to God taking them to the point of fainting with desire. With just a couple of seconds of consideration you can’t help but whisper, “Amen” as the declaration that a day in the presence of God is better than a thousand anywhere else. That to be but a doorkeeper in dwelling place of God, is far superior to living in any luxury mansion this world has to offer.

But this morning I also noticed that, at some point, the path to the dwelling place of the LORD of hosts will invariably take us through the Valley of Baca.

Blessed are those whose strength is in You, in whose heart are the highways to Zion. As they go through the Valley of Baca they make it a place of springs; the early rain also covers it with pools. They go from strength to strength; each one appears before God in Zion.

(Psalm 84:5-7 ESV)

It’s the only mention of the Valley of Baca in the Scriptures. Literally it is “the Valley of Tears” or “the Valley of Weeping.” Baca is also the word used for the balsam tree mentioned in 2Sam. 5:23-25, described by one commentator as a large bush, packed with thorns, which could not be passed through without labor and tears.

For the worshiper of God . . . for those who have set their internal GPS on Zion . . . who have the highway to the Holy marked on their hearts . . . who “have set their minds on a pilgrimage to Jerusalem” (NLT) . . . they can know that their travels will, at some point, take them through the Valley of Baca, the lowland of thorns. Not necessarily through catastrophe. But certainly through painful experiences, nevertheless. The type of stuff that’s gonna hurt and make you cry.

But for the worshiper of God, doing the thorns . . . get scuffed up on the journey . . . shedding the tears . . . is worth it. It is worth it not only because of the destination, but also because of what they learn during the journey. Because they experience the LORD of hosts as their strength. And know first hand how the tears shed in the valley can make it a place of refreshing springs as the God of all comfort draws near (2Cor. 1:3-4).

Along the way they encounter oasis after oasis, provided by God when they are most needed. They testify to the ministering, healing rain of God which transforms the valley into pools of His abiding love. They drink of heaven’s living water poured out abundantly.

And the worshiper of God knows that Baca is not the destination, it’s just a part of the road. A road where, according to the King’s promise, the pilgrim will find strength to help in time of need. Where they will know the sustaining grace of God during the journey.  Where they will know the revitalizing power of the Spirit as He faithfully leads them, to be sure, to the Father’s throne where they will appear before God in Zion.

If I could avoid the Valley of Baca, I would. But not if it prevented me from reaching His courts. Not if it kept me from being but a doorkeeper in His house for even a day.

The path of God may take us through the streets of thorns and the places of weeping, but the grace of God is sufficient for the day and His promises sufficient for the pilgrimage.

And to be in His dwelling place, within the courts of the Lord, will be worth it all.

For the LORD God is a sun and shield; the LORD bestows favor and honor. No good thing does He withhold from those who walk uprightly. O LORD of hosts, blessed is the one who trusts in You!

(Psalm 84:11-12 ESV)

By His grace. For His glory.

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An Entrusted Stewardship

Posted on April 5, 2017 by Pete

Perspective. It makes all the difference, doesn’t it? It’s the difference between the cup being half-full or half-empty. The difference between being discouraged by how far we have to go and being jazzed by how far we’ve come. And, as I’m reminded by Paul this morning, the difference between grudgingly going through the motions of the Christian walk and getting up in the morning ready, willing, and by His grace, able to discharge the privileged calling of being a child of the King.

Hovering over 1Corinthians 9 this morning as Paul, using his own calling as an apostle as an example, illustrates his teaching in the previous chapter concerning not using one’s liberty in Christ to engage in activities that might stumble others (8:9).

As one called of Christ to be a messenger of the gospel, Paul had a number of rights. The right to eat and drink, the right to have a believing wife, the right to quit his day job and to rely on the financial support of others in order to preach the word (9:3-11). Biblically he had these rights, the law of Moses testifying that those who participate in plowing the field should expect to share in its crop. And practically he had these rights, as evidenced by the other apostles who were married and supported by the church. Yet Paul would choose not to exercise these rights. Why? Because, rather than focus on the fact that he had been given certain rights as a follower of Christ, he had a different perspective. He focused instead on the fact that he had been entrusted with a stewardship.

But I have made no use of any of these rights, nor am I writing these things to secure any such provision. For I would rather die than have anyone deprive me of my ground for boasting. For if I preach the gospel, that gives me no ground for boasting. For necessity is laid upon me. Woe to me if I do not preach the gospel! For if I do this of my own will, I have a reward, but not of my own will, I am still entrusted with a stewardship.

(1Corinthians 9:15-17 ESV)

Paul didn’t view himself as doing God some favor by bearing witness to the gospel and thus deserving the rights of an apostle. Rather, he viewed his role in the body of Christ as a privilege and a calling. It wasn’t about what he was doing for God, but about what God wanted to do through him. It wasn’t if he obeyed God’s calling, it was all about how. Preaching the gospel wasn’t some magnanimous gesture on Paul’s part for which he deserved the set of privileges afforded it. Instead, Paul recognized that he had been entrusted with a stewardship, given a sacred trust (NLT), and that it was to be discharged faithfully.

Jesus had called Paul to be “a chosen instrument of Mine to carry My name before the Gentiles and kings and the children of Israel” (Acts 9:15). And Paul’s perspective was that he was to steward that calling. He was to manage, as if it were his own, the gift he had received. He took responsibility for the administration of the life Jesus had called him too. Rights or no rights, first and foremost Paul would do what he believed would most effectively allow him to discharge the sacred trust given him.

And I can’t help but make application to how I walk my Christian walk. I don’t think it matters whether I’m called to be in full-time, supported ministry or just trying to get through the day in a way that’s consistent with my profession of faith, I too have been given a sacred trust. And I can discharge that trust in one of two ways. Either in a whats-in-it-for-me manner or, in a God-glorifying manner. One leads to begrudgingly going through the motions, the other to energetically administering a stewardship received by the Lord as unto the Lord.

What a difference it would make if I were to view “living a life worthy of calling with which you were called” (Eph. 4:1) not just as a command to obey, but an entrusted stewardship to be discharged. Such a stewardship could be a ministry or some form of service we’ve been called to. But it could just as well simply be dealing with the circumstances of life God has allowed to fall on our plates this day.

Whether a ministry or the mundane, we have an entrusted stewardship by God’s grace. An entrusted stewardship to be discharged for God’s glory.

Amen?

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