The God of . . .

God knew that eventually He would be the “kid” that neither team wanted. That one day, after His chosen people had settled in the promised land, they would line up all the gods along the fence and pick their favorite chunks of wood and most sought after graven images of stone to bow down to, leaving the God of their Fathers, the God of their deliverance, on the sidelines. That they would be “unmindful of the Rock that bore you,” and would “forgot the God who gave you birth” (Deut. 32:18). And in that day, said Moses, they would suffer the consequences of their rebellion just as the LORD had warned them through Moses.

And so, my reading in Deuteronomy this morning finished with a heavy sigh. How could they? With all they had been through . . . with all they had been given . . . with the power they had witnessed . . . how could they choose inanimate objects over the living God? How could they so desire what the nations around them had that they turned their backs on what the God of heaven offered them?

And it’s something that caught my eye (or the Spirit highlighted for me) in Romans 15 that kind of tied it off for me. While the generations after Moses would know a lot about what the God of their fathers had done, by in large, they wouldn’t really know who their God really was. But Paul knew.

May the God of endurance and encouragement grant you to live in such harmony with one another, in accord with Christ Jesus.

May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may abound in hope.

May the God of peace be with you all. Amen.

(Romans 15:5, 13, 33 ESV)

“The God of . . . ” Those are the words that popped off the page this morning.

Our God is the God of endurance and encouragement. He is the God of hope. He is the God of peace.

While our God is also the God of so much more, this is what the Spirit served up for me to chew on this morning. While the instruction and information from Romans 15 this morning was helpful, it’s noodling on these attributes of the Father this morning that seems to be most beneficial.

Our God empowers us to run the race. He quiets our soul to settle into the groove and steadfastly pursue the prize. All the while He waits at the finish line calling us to Himself, exhorting us to keep on keepin’ on though we may feel like we’ve “hit the wall.” A God of endurance and encouragement.

Through faith and the inner assurance brought by the testimony of the Spirit of God, we are propelled by hope. Not some pie-in-the-sky, I-wish-I-may-I-wish-I-might hope, but a sure hope founded on the historical reality of Jesus’ resurrection from the dead. A solid hope sourced in the promises of Him who does not change and who cannot lie. A hope everlasting. A hope that will, even in the most barren times, fill us with all joy and peace in believing. Our God is the God of hope.

And He is the God of peace. A peace that passes understanding. A peace that flows like a river. A peace not like the world gives, but a peace that can calm the troubled heart and dispel the enemy of fear. In the world, Jesus said, we will have tribulation . . . stuff will happen. But He also said that we should take heart, that in Him we can have peace because He has overcome the world (John 16:33).

He is the God of . . .

The God who has made Himself known, through His Word, in His Son, by His Spirit. And what a difference it makes.

By His grace. For His glory.

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An Acceptable Time, An Abundant Love, A Saving Faithfulness

Truth be told, often when it comes to the Psalms, I’m probably not exercising the right level of interpretation before jumping in with identification. Thinking that’s true this morning as I chew on Psalm 69. My “enemies” are of no comparison to David’s. I’m not fleeing from a hoard who hate me without cause, nor am I having to hide from those would destroy me (v.4). I’m not in a situation where I’m bearing reproach to the point of despair, and it’s not like I’m without a company of comforters (v.20).

Yet there is something in what David feels as a result of his trials that resonates within. David’s not really stuck in consuming mud yet he says he is sinking in “deep mire where there is no foothold.” He’s not really treading water in some great sea but cries out to God about “the flood that sweeps over me” (v.2). David describes how he feels inside because of the reality he faces outside. And that’s why it’s so easy to connect with his songs.

Though our trials may be very different, and far less physically threatening, yet we know what it is to feel like you’re being sucked in by an emotional quicksand. We get the desperation that can come from wanting to get your head above water so you can take a breath. We identify with wanting some relief from the heaviness on your chest and the pit in your stomach. While the circumstances are quite different, even minor in comparison perhaps, yet the cry is similar, “Draw near to my soul” (v.18).

And it’s because of that identification that David’s plea to the LORD can also resonate so deep within and end up on our lips as our petition. That the Spirit can take the inspired word of God and leverage it to intercede on our behalf when “we do not know what to pray for as we ought” (Rom. 8:26).

But as for me, my prayer is to You, O LORD. At an acceptable time, O God, in the abundance of Your steadfast love answer me in Your saving faithfulness.

(Psalm 69:13 ESV)

Three things catch my attention: an acceptable time, an abundant love, and a saving faithfulness.

An acceptable time. While David may have been desperate, he wasn’t demanding. He knew the promises God had made to him. He had been given the macro view of the plans the Almighty had for him. He believed that nothing touched his life that hadn’t already passed through the fingers of Him who is sovereign over all. And so he prayed in light of an acceptable time. He was confident that relief and deliverance would come in a time well-pleasing to the LORD. Not a matter of if, but of when. And belief that until then, God’s presence would sustain him and God’s grace would be sufficient for him.

An abundant love. Despite his enemies breathing down his neck, David never doubted that a multitude of God’s affection enveloped him. God is love and those He loves are loved to the uttermost. The depths of love having been demonstrated through the cross and the giving of His Son for the wages of men’s sins. Like David, we do not waver, despite the current circumstance, knowing that “if God is for us, who can be against us? He who did not spare His own Son but gave Him up for us all, how will He not also with Him graciously give us all things?” (Rom. 8:31-32).

A saving faithfulness. He who has redeemed us will rescue us. His salvation a work begun that He has promised He will complete. Saving to the full those who trust in Him. Faithful to carry to the finish line those who run the race. His faithfulness a solid foundation upon which to stand. His name, our refuge. His promises, our assurance.

Though our affliction and pain doesn’t compare with what David experienced, though it differs in degree from those around us, yet our God delights to see our faces turned heavenward as we call out, “Let Your salvation, O God, set me on high!” (v. 29).

And it will. At an acceptable time. Through the abundance of His steadfast love. Because of His saving faithfulness.

All because of grace. All for His glory.

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That He Would Know, That We Would Know

What lay before them was daunting. But what lay behind them had been no cake wake either. To move forward and live according to the promise meant leaning into the battle, trusting God for the victory. But the wilderness they had already been through, if they let it, could serve as a vivid reminder of His unfailing faithfulness.

As I continue reading Moses’ words to the people as they are prepare to enter the promised land, what strikes me this morning is how the wandering in the wilderness they had just experienced could be redeemed as preparation for the difficulty that still lay ahead.

And you shall remember the whole way that the LORD your God has led you these forty years in the wilderness, that He might humble you, testing you to know what was in your heart, whether you would keep His commandments or not. And He humbled you and let you hunger and fed you with manna, which you did not know, nor did your fathers know, that He might make you know that man does not live by bread alone, but man lives by every word that comes from the mouth of the LORD.

(Deuteronomy 8:2-3 ESV)

God used the desert to humble His people. Their affliction stripping away any pretense of self-empowerment. Rations of morning manna dispelling any myth of self-sufficiency. The leading of the pillar of cloud squashing any delusion that they were masters of their own destiny. And Moses said they were brought low for two reasons: that He would know; that they would know.

God chose a season in the desert for His people that He might know what was in their heart. Though He would lead them, He knew it would test them. Their wandering serving as a crucible to reveal any dross and, if they’d allow it to, burn away the impurities. Though it seemed like they were going in circles with no end in sight, it provided opportunity for them to trust in the LORD with all their heart and lean not to their own understanding. Though they wondered if they’d ever feel again like they were back on top of life, every day they woke to bread from heaven on the ground they could know again that His mercies are new every morning. What would He find in their heart? Despair and bitterness . . . or the fruit of faith?

And this humbling, says Moses, was not for God’s knowledge alone, but that they too could know something from their time spent in what seemed like a barren labyrinth. They could know from firsthand experience that God’s power is truly the power to deliver. That God’s sufficiency really is all-sufficient. That God’s leading is a trustworthy path to God’s promises. That real life was not about bread alone, but was found in believing every word that comes from the mouth of God.

Through the wilderness He permitted, God revealed their hearts. Through the wilderness they had just endured, they remembered God’s faithfulness. Both serving to prepare His people as they moved forward into unknown territory, making them ready for the battles ahead against enemies yet unknown.

Redeeming the wilderness. That’s what our God is prepared to do. So that He would know our hearts. So that we would know in a deeper way His faithfulness.

All by His grace. All for His glory.

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Better Than Life

If anything has become clear over the past years, months, and weeks, it is how wired for life we are. In the good times we seek to maximize it. In the not so good times we will go to great lengths to fight for it. Even as it ebbs away we will savor every last moment of it. Have being made in the image of God, the Author of Life, it’s in both our physical and spiritual DNA to desire life. Divine wisdom affirms that God has “put eternity into man’s heart” (Eccl. 3:11). And through the divine incarnation we are told that God lived among us so that, as His image-bearers, we could real life “and have it abundantly” (John 10:10).

We are wired for life. Life is good–especially life lived connected to the Life-giver. But this morning the songwriter reminds me that there is something better than life.

Because Your steadfast love is better than life, my lips will praise You.

(Psalm 63:3 ESV)

My Bible says that David wrote this song when he was in the wilderness. That his inspiration for the lyrics came when life was like “a dry and weary land where there is no water” (v. 1b). Living in a desert-like reality compelled him to earnestly seek His God. His soul thirsted for another encounter of the divine kind. His flesh longed to know again the touch of heaven. David knew relief could be found in seeing again that which he had seen in the holy place — “Your power and glory” (63:2). Why? Because he knew that God’s steadfast love, His unfailing favor, His over-flowing kindness, was better than life.

His steadfast love. The love that bought us. God sending His Son to pay the wages our sin demanded, conquering death so that life might reign.

The love that sought us. God, through the good news of the gospel, calling all to come and to receive the life-giving water which ultimately quenches all thirst.

The love that brought us. God, through His Spirit, drawing hearts to Himself, infusing the light of life where once there was only darkness.

It is a steadfast love. An unfailing love. An ever available love . . . even in the wilderness.

His love is better than life. Because life is no better than when lived in the shadow of God’s love.

And so, my lips will praise Him.

“So I will bless You as long as I live; in Your name I will lift up my hands. My soul will be satisfied as with fat and rich food, and my mouth will praise You with joyful lips, when I remember You upon my bed, and meditate on You in the watches of the night.”

(Psalm 63:4-6 ESV)

Wired for life. Worshiping the Author of Life and His steadfast love. Waiting for the life yet to be experienced when faith gives way to sight and we know face-to-face, in a whole new way, that love which is better than life.

By His grace. For His glory.

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Jesus Aware

I suppose He might have seen the look on the faces of those who were offended and guessed what thoughts were running through their heads. Or perhaps during the woman’s display of extravagant worship He could have overhead the grumbling from those who thought that what she was doing was really an act of excessive waste. Or maybe, just maybe, He didn’t need to see their sour countenances or hear their disdainful words at all to know what was going in their hearts. Instead, being God and fully, Jesus was simply aware.

Now when Jesus was at Bethany in the house of Simon the leper, a woman came up to Him with an alabaster flask of very expensive ointment, and she poured it on His head as He reclined at table. And when the disciples saw it, they were indignant, saying, “Why this waste? For this could have been sold for a large sum and given to the poor.” But Jesus, aware of this, said to them, “Why do you trouble the woman? For she has done a beautiful thing to Me.”

(Matthew 26:6-10 ESV)

I love hovering over this account, my meditation informed but what I recall from John’s record of this over the top act of adoration (John 12:1-8). I imagine the hush in the room as Mary, the sister of Martha and Lazarus, interrupts dinner with a no holds barred demonstration of her desire. I wonder at what it would have been like as the house was filled with the over-whelming aroma of her sweet-smelling sacrifice to her Lord. I picture the pungent oil dripping from the head of the Master while His humble servant anoints His feet with her hair.

But this morning what catches my attention are the two words, “Jesus aware.”

He was fully present in that room. Able to intimately engage with those around the table as they broke bread and enjoyed abiding fellowship. Completely tuned in to the “beautiful thing” Mary was doing to Him–feeling the oil on His head, sensing the touch of her hands on His feet, aware completely of the devotion in her heart. And yes, even attuned to those who looked down their nose at the scene and murmured, “This is stupid!”

Jesus aware.

The Spirit reminding me this morning that He who died for my sin and rose for my justification has ascended to the Father’s right hand and even now is interceding for me (Rom. 8:34) . . . and interceding with full knowledge. Fully aware as to what’s going in my life . . . what’s running through my head . . . what’s impacting my heart. And this Jesus aware “is able to save to the uttermost those who draw near to God through Him, since He always lives to make intercession for them” (Heb. 7:25).

Jesus actively aware. Searching our hearts. Engaging our minds. Making well our souls.

Defending us against the attacks of our adversaries. Rebuking the trouble. Calming the storm.

Accepting whatever I’m able to offer as a beautiful thing.

Jesus aware. O blessed thought. Brings to mind this old hymn which recently was put back on my radar:

Does Jesus care when my heart is pained
Too deeply for mirth or song,
As the burdens press, and the cares distress
And the way grows weary and long?

Oh yes, He cares, I know He cares,
His heart is touched with my grief;
When the days are weary, the long nights dreary,
I know my Savior cares.

~ Frank E. Graeff, 1901.

Jesus aware. A reminder of His great grace. All for His even greater glory.

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The Rock

Sometimes morning devo’s are just about reading and reflecting. After taking a bite, you just want to chew on it . . . not necessarily create a post about it. That’s this morning. So, after some noodle time on Psalm 61 this morning I went back and read some of the thoughts I had “put to paper” in the past. Here’s something from a couple of years ago that puts into words some of what I need to remember this morning. Some musings from 2015 which help point me again to the Rock.

Situation assessment: You are at the end. The end of your options. The end of your resources. The end of your rope. You are as far away from where you want to be as you think you can be. What’s more, you are out of gas. Nothing left in the tank. Reserves depleted. Not physically necessarily, but emotionally. Your heart is faint. Overwhelmed. The fighting spirit is done. Situation assessment? Not so good. Recommended course of action? Commence prayer.

Hear my cry, O God, listen to my prayer; from the end of the earth I call to You when my heart is faint. Lead me to the rock that is higher than I, for You have been my refuge, a strong tower against the enemy. Let me dwell in Your tent forever! Let me take refuge under the shelter of Your wings! Selah

(Psalm 61:1-5 ESV)

Hovering over the songwriter’s song this morning. Not let in on David’s situation exactly, but you’re thinking it’s probably one of those times when he’s in the wilderness. Far from home . . . far from the throne . . . far from the house of God . . . far from God’s holy hill. One of those times when he’s tired of being on the run. When he’s about done with being in hiding. One of those times when the promises of God are ringing a bit hollow . . . the blessings of God not overly apparent. He is as far away from “feeling God” as he can be . . . like being at the end of the earth.

But with what little emotional strength he still possesses, with the bit of holy determination he is still able to muster, he cries out to heaven, “Hear me, O God, listen to my prayer.”

Pretty simple prayer really. “Lead me to the rock!” That rock which is a strong tower . . . that rock which is an inhabitable tent . . . that rock which is a sheltering refuge. Lead me to the rock that is higher than I.

The songwriter knows of the rock. He has been on the rock. But He needs His God to guide him again to the rock . . . to transport him back to the rock . . . to carry him one more time to the rock. It’s a rock higher than he has the resources to ascend to. A rock beyond just “sucking it up” and “making it happen.” It’s a rock “higher than I.” But it’s a rock for the weary . . . a respite for the wandering . . . a refuge for the worn out.

And you don’t have to noodle very long on this before the r-o-c-k is spelled the S-a-v-i-o-r (-o-u-r for my Canadian friends).

I read of the rock higher than I and I think of the One who became lower than the angels for the suffering of death and is now crowned with glory and honor (Heb. 2:7-9). I think of the tent of eternal dwelling, and I think of all that it means to be “in Christ” . . . and of the grace that has “made us alive together with Christ” and has “raised us up with Him and seated us with Him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus” (Eph. 2:5-6). I think of the shelter of His wings, and the respite that is promised there, and I hear Him again inviting us, “Come to Me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you, and learn from Me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls” (Matt. 11:28-29).

And so you look to the Rock . . . and with what seems like a last breath, you whisper heavenward, “Lead me there, Lord. Guide my storm-tossed ship to that harbor. Let my feet again know they are standing on solid ground.”

And He does. With all sufficient grace and a peace that passes understanding, even with circumstances unchanged, we are transported to higher ground. Reminded of our eternal dwelling. Comforted by His abiding shelter. Fortified against the attacks of the enemy.

All because of the Rock. The Rock that is higher than I.

And because of a loving Father who, with infinite patience and compassion, hears our cry and again leads us to the Rock.

By His grace. For His glory.

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The Difference Adoption Makes

From time to time there’s the temptation to fall back. To do what you’ve stopped doing. To respond the way you used to respond. To go where you no longer want to go.

Any number of things might trigger it, but the temptation’s lure is unmistakable. Its voice sounds something like this, “Sure you’ve known what it is to pursue holiness, but doesn’t this want to make you enjoy again the pleasure of sin for a season?” Or, “Ok, so washing other’s feet has been the right thing to do, but enough is enough. You’re in danger of becoming a doormat. Time to put yourself back on the throne for awhile.” Or maybe, “Rejoice in the Lord always? Really? Not in this. This is too much. Too hard. Let the grief numb you like others who have no hope. Stay in bed, no need to get back in the game. Let the sadness envelope you and wrap you in its listless cocoon.”

But though the temptation to fall back may rear its head periodically, we are told that God is faithful and that He will “provide the way of escape, that you may be able to endure it” (1Cor. 10:13). And something I read in Romans this morning reminds me that at least part of “the way of escape” is the difference adoption makes.

For all who are led by the Spirit of God are sons of God. For you did not receive the spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received the Spirit of adoption as sons, by whom we cry, “Abba! Father!” The Spirit Himself bears witness with our spirit that we are children of God, and if children, then heirs–heirs of God and fellow heirs with Christ, provided we suffer with Him in order that we may also be glorified with Him.

(Romans 8:14-17 ESV)

The opposite of a spirit of slavery which causes us to fall back is the Spirit of adoption by whom we cry, “Abba! Father!” The remedy for retreat is the reminder that we children of God. The power to say, “Nope, not going there!” is the inner witness that we are kids with a future.

We are heirs . . . “born again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, to an inheritance that is imperishable, undefiled, and unfading, kept in heaven for you” (1Pet. 1:3-4). An inheritance awaiting us which is intricately intertwined with the inheritance awaiting the Son of God at the culmination of the age.

And so, because of our adoption, not only does our past not define us, neither does our present need to confine us. We have the power to resist temptation’s feeble attempts to enslave us again with fear and dread and despondency.

Because we are children with a sure future–the same Spirit of adoption being “the guarantee of our inheritance until we acquire possession of it (Eph. 1:14)–we need not fall back. Because we are led by the very power of Him who raised Christ from the dead, we can stand fast as we continue pursuing holiness, serving others, and not grieving like those who have no hope.

We can rejoice always.

Joyful in the hope . . . patient in tribulation . . . constant in prayer (Romans 12:12).

That’s the difference adoption makes. Amen?

By His grace. For His glory.

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A Steadfast Heart

Down in northern California for a couple of days checking out the new grandson. What a joy! But amid the joy, there’s still some sadness.

Not only have I heard it from my girls, but from others in our extended family as well, this week is turning out to be a tough week. Maybe week three is such a hard week because the need to get back to “doing life” increases the pressure to get back to normal . . . but normal has such a huge gap in it. Though the world keeps turning, there are so many indicators of the way in which the world has been turned upside down. Small things trigger large memories. And for every thought that wonders what Sue must be experiencing right now in Jesus’ presence, there are multiple reminders of what we are now missing because Sue is no longer in ours.

Maybe that’s why David’s admission, “My soul was bowed down,” catches my eye this morning as I read Psalm 57.

But while that may have caught my eye, it’s something else that has captivated my thoughts.

My heart is steadfast, O God, my heart is steadfast! I will sing and make melody!

(Psalm 57:7 ESV)

A bowed down soul . . . and yet a steadfast heart.

David was in a cave as he continued to flee from the enemy. The storms of destruction raging (v.1). The days spent trying to keep on while in the midst of lions. The nights a battle as he tried to sleep among fiery beasts. Both of which seemed intent on consuming him (v.4). The traps had been set, the pit made ready (v.6). It was a lot to endure. So much so that it bowed his soul to the ground.

But if David had had Paul to read, I imagine he might also have said:

We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed;

(2Corinthians 4:8-9 ESV)

How come? Because of a steadfast heart.

A heart that allowed David to respond to a bowed down soul with a lifted up cry to God Most High (v.2). That enabled David to work through seemingly overwhelming circumstances knowing that God had promised to fulfill His purpose for him (v.2). That reminded David of God’s unfailing faithfulness and of God’s unwavering love.

And because David really believed what he said he believed he could praise from the cave. The fruit of a steadfast heart.

Thank God for a steadfast heart. Not of my own making, but through the testimony of God’s living and active word. Not of my own sustaining, but with the help of God’s indwelling and ever-present Spirit. Not because I’m anything special, but based solely on the finished work of the eternal Son of God who loved me and gave Himself for me.

A steadfast heart. Sufficient to weather the day . . . and so much more. Sufficient also to restart the song for the day. To sing anew of His goodness. To make melody again of our hope. To awake the glory and give thanks to God among the people (v.8-9).

For Your steadfast love is great to the heavens, Your faithfulness to the clouds.

(Psalm 57:10 ESV)

All by His sustaining grace. All for His everlasting glory.

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Participation and Expectation

No way! That’s Paul’s response to the question . . . no way! By no means are we to continue in sin so that grace may abound (Rom. 6:1). No longer should we play around in the muck just to show again and again how clean the blood of Christ can make us. We’re not to keep on pursuing the world and it’s realm of darkness so that God’s patience and kindness might repeatedly be redisplayed. To be sure, we will fail and falter, and He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins because of Christ’s finished work on the cross, but we are not to presume upon it. That’s not grace’s end game.

While it’s true that where sin abounded, grace did much more abound (Rom. 5:20 AV), grace was never intended to be a perpetual counterbalance to sin’s ongoing dominion in our lives. Instead, grace abounded, it increased much more, so that it might redefine our lives. That now, grace would reign by the righteousness given through faith in Jesus Christ (5:21).

And what’s the power enabling grace to have governing authority over our minds and motives? Something I read in Romans this morning makes me think it’s tied to a participation and to an expectation.

We were buried therefore with Him by baptism into death, in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might walk in newness of life.

(Romans 6:4 ESV)

That day when we confessed our need to be rescued from sin and believed that Christ had come to be the Savior from sin, we were united with Him. Just as He had died for our sin, by whatever measure of faith we had been given, we declared, though feebly perhaps, we wanted to die to our sin. That we were done with the old and were looking for something new. And so, just He was raised from the dead, we too were gifted with all we needed to walk in newness of life. Our participation in His death and resurrection becoming the enabling dynamic to walk free from sin’s dominion in our lives.

But beyond the promise of participation, what’s grabbed me particularly this morning is a promise which fuels a heightened expectation.

For if we have been united with Him in a death like His, we shall certainly be united with Him in a resurrection like His.

(Romans 6:5 ESV)

We shall certainly be united with Him in a resurrection like His. Future tense!

While it’s true that the believer currently knows something of resurrection power through the active agency of the indwelling Spirit of God, we ain’t seen nothing yet. ” For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face” (1Cor. 13:12).

Faith will give way to sight. Just as Christ anticipated being with the Father after His resurrection (John 17:11), we too live in the expectation of one day being absent from the body and present with the LORD (2Cor. 5:8). Just as Jesus reigns today through the power of an indestructible life (Heb. 7:16), we too, one day, will know the reality of doing life, real life, life to the full, as these natural bodies of ours are raised spiritual bodies. As that which was sown perishable, is raised imperishable. As that which was sown in dishonor, is one day raised in glory. As that which today is so weak, will eventually be raised in power (1Cor. 15:42-44).

Beyond the blessing of today’s participation in the life of Christ, we have been given the sure promise of tomorrow’s great expectation of being with Christ. Today, I am invited to lean in and to participate in the power of Christ’s resurrected life. One day, and perhaps sooner than I think, I have been told to look up and to expect being in the presence of His resurrected life.

Participation and expectation.

All because of grace. All for His glory.

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Let Grace Reign

If we’re honest, though extending grace to others is certainly taking the high road, it’s not always the easy road. While being gracious might be the right thing to do, we don’t always feel like doing the right thing. While showing unmerited favor to others is something we know should mark us as believers, often we find that, though the spirit is willing, the flesh is weak. So how do we battle this reality? How do we let grace reign?

Something I read this morning in Romans provides a clue, I think.

Therefore, as one trespass led to condemnation for all men, so one act of righteousness leads to justification and life for all men. For as by the one mans disobedience the many were made sinners, so by the one Mans obedience the many will be made righteous. Now the law came in to increase the trespass, but where sin increased, grace abounded all the more, so that, as sin reigned in death, grace also might reign through righteousness leading to eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord.

(Romans 5:18-21 ESV)

Grace reigns through righteousness. That’s what I’m chewing on.

Through Christ’s “one act of righteousness,” His obedience unto death, justification is available for all. The condemnation of sin erased for all who believe, as the wages of sin were paid in full on the cross. The debt having been forever erased. The ledger declared eternally clear. What’s more, by Christ’s obedience righteousness was imputed. His perfection credited to those who receive Him as Savior and acknowledge Him as Lord. The filthy rags of sin exchanged for the gifted garments of holiness.

Our right-standing before God having nothing do with our merit or works, but all to do with Jesus’ obedience and sacrifice. The righteousness we possess completely unrelated to who we are, but totally reflective of who He is.

And so, from that position of being justified and declared righteous, grace can reign.

Grace reigns through righteousness. Just as sin’s power of dominion is in the death it is certain to wield, so the power to extend grace is found in the righteousness that has been freely given through Christ’s victory on Calvary. As I recall the unmerited favor shown me, the high road just becomes the right road and I desire to extend to others what has already been extended to me.

Having been forgiven such a great debt, how I can hold other’s transgressions against me against them? Having been freely blessed in Christ with every spiritual blessing in heavenly places (Eph. 1:3) despite my past failures and present faltering, how can I not purpose to love others deeply, willing to let the divine love that envelopes me cover a multitude of other’s sins (1Pet. 4:8)?

“Freely you have received, freely give.”  ~ Jesus

(Matthew 10:8 NKJV)

It seems to me that the power enabling grace to reign is the perpetual reminder that I have nothing apart from what has been given to me and that I am nothing apart from who I am in Christ. The righteousness gifted me primes the pump of grace which can, by the Spirit’s enabling, flow abundantly to others.

Grace reigns through righteousness. Not my own, but His alone.

Let grace reign. That God might receive the glory.

Amen?

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