Unseen Footprints

Chewing on Psalm 77 this morning. Don’t know the situation, but recognize something of the symptoms.

The songwriter speaks of sleepless nights when it was as if God were holding open his eyelids (v.4). Of a mind that can’t stop racing as it takes repeated inventory of all that is not going right and anticipating what else could go wrong. Of seemingly unending soul searching, “Is God still there? Has His unfailing love failed? Have His promises been forgotten? Has the deep well of grace gone dry? Will I not know His kindness again?” (v. 6b-9). So much running through the psalmist’s head as he lays in his bed at night that any attempt at prayer comes out only as mere groans (v.2-3).

Yet, by God’s enabling power, the channel changes in the midnight hour. Previews of the next disaster are replaced with re-runs of the “wonders of old.” The mighty deeds of the LORD are remembered. His past deliverance replayed. His faithful provision recounted. Every evidence of His powerful presence recalled (v.11-12). And then, the breakthrough . . .

Your way, O God, is holy. What god is great like our God? You are the God who works wonders; You have made known Your might among the peoples.

(Psalm 77:13-14 ESV)

Yeah, sounds familiar.

But here’s what kind of grabbed me this morning–the God-breathed words that resonated deeply in my soul.

Your way was through the sea, Your path through the great waters; yet Your footprints were unseen.

(Psalm 77:19 ESV)

I guess God could have made the way out of Egypt easy. But He didn’t. He led His people to stand before a seemingly impassible sea as they looked over their shoulders at a fast approaching enemy. Situation bad . . . and soon to get worse. No going forward. No going back. What to think? Is God still there? They were trapped. Or so it appeared.

But the way of the Almighty was to encounter the sea and then pass through it. The path of the One who had gathered them to Himself as a flock was to lead them through great waters, though they couldn’t imagine how. And this, all accomplished with unseen footprints.

Though there was every indicator He had gone before them, yet there was no forensic evidence. His ways of working were deep. The manifestation of His power the only proof of His presence. But no visible footprints.

And so, as he lay awake, his mind racing, the songwriter has an expectation that just as He had led in the past, God would lead in the future, though there might be no empirical proof.

Such, I guess, is the walk of faith. Knowing He has. Believing He will.

“Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are Mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you. For I am the LORD your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior.”

(Isaiah 43:1b-3a ESV)

Counting on unseen footprints to make plain the path forward.

By His grace. For His glory.

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That You May Know

It wasn’t just the words. It was everything. While what He said was carefully chosen in order to reveal great truth, everything else that had led up to speaking them had first passed through the fingers of His sovereign hand. And all of it, “that you may know.”

Typically, when I chew on the story in Mark 2 of Jesus healing the paralytic in the house with the hole in the roof, I focus either on the works of the five men or the words of the Savior to the paralytic.

The works of the men showed their faith. The four believed Jesus had power to heal and so were willing to haul their paralyzed buddy across town to see Jesus. And the paralytic demonstrated his faith by his willingness to be hauled. The five of them then agree to go for the roof when the doors were jammed with people. And then, of one accord, they execute Project Skylight–making an opening in the roof and lowering the paralytic before Jesus.

. . . and I will show you my faith by my works.

(James 2:18b ESV)

Or what about Jesus’ words? He could have chosen to be less inflammatory. But he knew His audience. Though great faith lay before Him, Jesus was also aware of the skeptics and the opposition around Him. And so rather than lead with “take up your mat and walk,” Jesus instead chose to reveal the connection between faith and forgiveness.

And when Jesus saw their faith, He said to the paralytic, “My son, your sins are forgiven.”

(Mark 2:5 ESV)

“Blasphemy!” thought His critics. “Who can forgive sins but God alone?” the opposition reasoned within themselves. But though His enemies questioned Him in their hearts, Jesus heard them clearly with His ears of divine omniscience. And it’s His response to them that has me thinking this morning.

“Why do you question these things in your hearts? Which is easier, to say to the paralytic, ‘Your sins are forgiven,’ or to say, ‘Rise, take up your bed and walk’? But that you may know that the Son of Man has authority on earth to forgive sins”–He said to the paralytic–“I say to you, rise, pick up your bed, and go home.” And he rose and immediately picked up his bed and went out before them all, so that they were all amazed and glorified God, saying, “We never saw anything like this!”

(Mark 2:8b-12 ESV)

That you may know . . . those are the words I’m chewing on this morning.

That’s what it was all about . . . ALL of it. Not just telling the man to take up his mat and walk. Not just the provocative declaration of sins forgiven. But even that the man was paralyzed in the first place, that too was allowed by Jesus, that you may know.

His suffering permitted according to heaven’s plan. That out of such trial, such desperation would be known that no effort would be spared to come to the feet of the Master. Even the doors were barricaded by bodies according to divine design. The hole in the roof also written in God’s sovereign script. All of it, so that you may know the Son of man has authority on earth. Authority to forgive sins. The right to reconcile sinners. The power to preserve the saints.

All of it . . . that you may know. Every aspect of life an opportunity for Jesus to be revealed. Every blessing, every trail . . . every mountain top, every valley . . . all of it filled with potential to see the Savior intervene and to hear the Son speak.

Nobody wants to be the paralytic. And we’d probably just as soon avoid the effort of carrying other’s burdens only to find doors blocked. Who wants to phone the insurance adjuster and try and explain how the hole in the roof got there? But all of it led to a fresh encounter with the Son of God. To hearing those words of life, “Your sins are forgiven.” To seeing the power of Jesus as a paralytic picked up his bed and walked home.

All of it, that you may know.

And they were all amazed. Me too.

Amazed at such grace. Amazed for His glory.

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Jesus Cares

His words were few. His situation was evident. His desperation understandable. So there was no need for a lot of explanation on his part. Instead, the leper approached Jesus, fell to his knees and, according to Mark’s account, begged Him to intervene with just eight single-syllable words:

“If You will, You can make me clean.”   (Mark 1:40 ESV)

That Jesus was able was without question. The leper had heard enough, maybe even seen enough, to know, without a shadow of a doubt, the power this Man of Nazareth possessed. Able? Check! Willing? Well that was the question.

If You are willing, You can make me clean. The leper had planted his mustard seed of faith. His desire to be clean greater than the law’s requirement that he keep his distance. But his desire alone couldn’t provide the healing so desperately sought after. Nothing he could do could take away the disease. He was stained, and without any resources of his own to make himself clean. But if Jesus was willing, He could make Him clean.

And Jesus was. And Jesus did.

Moved with pity, He stretched out His hand and touched him and said to him, “I will; be clean.” And immediately the leprosy left him, and he was made clean.

(Mark 1:41-42 ESV)

And what’s got me thinking this morning is the dynamic that took “If you will” and transformed it into “I will.”

Jesus was moved with pity, or as the other translations put it, Jesus was moved with compassion. And that was the driver for Jesus’ willingness to heal. The Lord’s compassion is what took an expression of faith and converted it into a demonstration of fact.

Jesus cared for this desperate soul–and cared deeply. He didn’t just feel sorry for the man, but Jesus entered into and sympathized with the leper’s situation. He felt the effects of the disease, physically and emotionally. He knew the separation that accompanied it because of the law. He was not unaware that the life of a diseased beggar was far below the abundant life for which the man had been created. Jesus was moved with compassion.

He was stirred deep inside. Moved within. And thus, He who was able became willing. And, He who could have simply spoken the word of healing, in tenderness determined, instead, to stretch out His hand and touch a man who likely had not felt the skin of any other human for years. Not because the man deserved it, though he had faith, but because the heart of heaven was moved and determined to respond with abundant favor.

“If You will” became “I will” because Jesus cares. That’s what I’m chewing on this morning. Not only does the Lord of Creation know, He cares. Not only is He aware of our weakness, but He is moved by it. Moved enough to respond. Moved enough to stretch out His hand and allow us to feel the warmth of His touch.

Jesus cares. Mine is to humbly bow before Him with my need. In simple faith to call to the Master, “If You are willing, I know You can.”

Does Jesus care when I’ve said “goodbye”
To the dearest on earth to me,
And my sad heart aches till it nearly breaks
Is it aught to Him? Does He see?

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

Such is His grace. To Him be all glory.

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That We Might Understand

Saturday we gathered together with confidence. As we remembered our so evident loss, yet we equally celebrated her so certain gain. Though we acknowledged the reality of the difficulty here and now, we affirmed the surety of reunion there and then. All with confidence. Confidence which allowed us to sing, to laugh, to cry, and to rejoice in the blessings and impact of a life well lived and the glory we’re sure it brought to her God.

So how could we do this with confidence? How could what so many consider the unknown be affirmed by so many as known? How was it that what is unseen could be so real? That beyond some pie-in-the-sky-sweet-by-and-by sentiment it becomes a rock of certain footing as we anticipate uncertain days? At least in part, it’s because of that spiritual dynamic we’ve entered into as part of the grace we’ve known. A dynamic we can often taken for granted. A power we’ve have been tethered to so that we might understand.

But, as it is written, “What no eye has seen, nor ear heard, nor the heart of man imagined, what God has prepared for those who love Him”–these things God has revealed to us through the Spirit. For the Spirit searches everything, even the depths of God. For who knows a persons thoughts except the spirit of that person, which is in him? So also no one comprehends the thoughts of God except the Spirit of God. Now we have received not the spirit of the world, but the Spirit who is from God, that we might understand the things freely given us by God.

(1Corinthians 2:9-12 ESV)

Even though the song says, “I can only imagine . . .”, apart from the active agency of the Spirit’s illumination, we really can’t. Even though we can know a lot about what the Bible teaches, its pages remain only one set of facts and data until the Spirit of God reveals it to our minds and hearts as life-giving, life-altering truth.

It really should be awe-invoking. The Spirit who searches everything, even the depths of God, indwells the believer so that He might lead us into all truth. He interacts with our mind through our spirit so that we might comprehend something of the mind of God towards us–thoughts that are not our thoughts and ways that are not our ways. “For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are My ways higher than your ways and My thoughts than your thoughts” (Isa. 55:8-9).

And yet, by the Father’s loving determination, through the miraculous active dynamic of the Spirit’s power, we mere mortals can know something of the mind of the eternal Christ (1Cor. 2:16)

How prone we are to take for granted this amazing miraculous dynamic. Given freely so that we might understand.

To know assuredly what was once unknown. To see with certainty that which is unseen. To anticipate confidently what God has prepared for those who love Him.

All through the Spirit of God in us. Freely given that we might understand.

. . . for I know whom I have believed and am persuaded that He is able to keep what I have committed to Him until that Day.

(2Timothy 1:12 NKJV)

By His grace. For His glory.

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Sue’s Memorial

For those who wanted to join us to remember Sue but were unable to make the trip, we’re hoping you can join us via a livestream of the service.

Lord willing, it should come online Saturday, March 25th, a little before 11:00 a.m. PDT.

Click here to join.

 

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=ql-FIFTFQro

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Info only . . .

No post this morning. My mind is kind of cluttered as we enter into final preparation for Sue’s memorial tomorrow.

But wanted to let those who knew Sue and can’t make it to the memorial, or to the one in Kelowna on May 6, know that we are going to try and Livestream the service tomorrow at 11:00 a.m. We’ll get the link to the Livestream posted as soon as we have it.

Welcome your prayer cover as we gather to remember Sue and exalt her Savior.

 

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Two Desires

Reaching into the archives this morning and dusting off some thoughts from 2009. Found chewing again on the tension found in Moses’ death helpful as we continue to deal with the reality of sojourning without her.

——-

Wrapped up Deuteronomy this morning. And I’m not quite sure all that should be concluded by the death of Moses. Moses, the prophet of God, unlike any prophet before or after him, save for Christ Himself. Moses, the man whom “the Lord knew face to face” (Deut. 34:10). Moses, the only man (at least that I can think of) who was buried by God Himself (34:6). Moses, the man who came up short of the promise but received the prize. So what’s the application?

Moses is still in the prime of life . . . well, mostly. Yeah, he’s 120 years old (imagine the candles on that cake) but, the Scriptures say, “His eye was undimmed, and his vigor unabated” (34:7). It’s not just that he still had 20/20 vision, the Hebrew word apparently has reference to mental qualities, as well. In other words, at 120, Moses was still as sharp as a tack. He still had it all together. He could have led quite ably for a number of more years. And it’s not just that his mind was in tact, he was still as strong as ever. Literally the translation is, “nor had his moisture fled.” This wasn’t some hunched over, wrinkled up old dude. His vitality was also still in tact. Maybe not quite Charleton Heston  like, but could have been. The point is, Moses did not die of “natural causes.”

No, Moses died there . . . on Mount Nebo . . . in the land of Moab . . . on the edge of the Promised Land . . . because it was “according to the word of the Lord.” (34:5) Years earlier God had informed Moses that while Moses would lead the people to the edge of the promised land, he himself would not enter because of disobedience. Dying on Mount Nebo in “his prime” was the consequence of a transgression. I understand it, but I’m not sure I fully get it.

And while there’s a certain sense of sadness in Moses coming up short of the promise land, I can’t help but think that if it comes down to the Promised Land or Paradise, Moses ended up with the better end of the deal. The last thing Moses sees on earth is the land that he has dedicated his life to bringing God’s people to. And the last “person” Moses encounters on earth is the glorious God of heaven and earth. He then closes his eyes on Mount Nebo and immediately opens them in heaven itself. He leaves the desert, he arrives in glory. He says goodbye to the people who have been his burden for 80 years, and says hello to Abraham, Isaac, Jacob and a host of others. So while you kind of feel sorry for Moses not being able to enter the promise land, you’re left not feeling THAT sorry.

To say that I’m confused by it all, probably isn’t accurate. To say that I don’t have it all figured out–all the whys and wherefores of God’s final dealings with Moses–that’s probably true.

The conflict, if I can call it that, is in the tension created by two desires. The desire for living out our earthly calling vs. the desire to experience the promised heavenly blessing.

And I’m kind of thinking that God has wired believers with both desires to drive the Christian experience. We embrace life. We seek to serve Him and to fulfill His purposes for us here on earth, to live life to the full for His glory. Yet we also realize that this “world is not my home.” We labor here with one eye on heaven. Not fixated on death itself, but on the glory to be revealed when we leave this body, knowing that to be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord. “So,” Paul writes to the Corinthians, “whether we are at home or away, we make it our aim to please Him.” (2Cor. 5:8-9)

I guess the other thing about not completely understanding God’s final dealings with Moses is that I don’t have to. At the end of the day (and at the beginning of the day), what I do know is that God’s plans are perfect, that His ways are right. Paul reminded me of that this morning in his wrap up to his letter to the Romans,

Now to Him who is able to strengthen you according to my gospel and the preaching of Jesus Christ . . . to the only wise God be glory forevermore through Jesus Christ! Amen.

(Romans 16:25a, 27 ESV)

God is wisdom. He defines what wisdom is . . . His purposes are always right . . . His ways, though often past knowing, can always be trusted.

I don’t think Moses grimaced as God removed the breath of life. While he may have been sorry to not have possessed the land, I don’t think he was sad. I think that though he knew he had come up just short of the promise, he also knew he was about to inherit the prize. This one who had asked to see God’s glory and had encountered it in part as he hid in the cleft of the rock and beheld God’s back (Ex. 33:18-23), would now encounter God’s glory face to face. Or, perhaps, face to ground.

Father, I don’t fully understand all your final dealings with Moses here on earth . . . but I do know that You are God alone wise . . . and trust that Your ways are perfect . . . be glorified my God . . . amen!

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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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