No Giving Up

Hovering over the “God gave them up” passage in Romans 1 this morning. And thinking that if we “cherry pick” it we may be missing out on some pretty humbling but extremely encouraging fruit.

Cherry picking. You know, selecting just the best from a group of things. Or, in this case, selectively presenting information in order to support a particular position.

The “God gave them up” passage. You know, that section in Romans 1 where Paul details the sorts of behavior that emerge within a people who refuse to acknowledge God (Romans 1:18-32). The passage that talks about God making known “His invisible attributes, namely, His eternal power and divine nature” through creation (1:20). The passage which says that despite that, people “did not honor Him as God or give thanks to Him” but became “futile in their thinking” (1:21). And so, because they “exchanged the glory of the immortal God for images resembling mortal man” (1:23) and “exchanged the truth about God for a lie and worshiped and served the creature rather than the Creator” (1:25) . . .

Therefore God gave them up in the lusts of their hearts to impurity, to the dishonoring of their bodies among themselves . . . For this reason God gave them up to dishonorable passions. . . . And since they did not see fit to acknowledge God, God gave them up to a debased mind to do what ought not to be done.

(Romans 1:24, 26a, 28 ESV)

And way too often I’ve found myself using this as a proof text for God’s displeasure at those who are dishonoring their bodies or who enthusiastically exploit their dishonorable passions but fail to see the mirror presented by the behaviors associated with those of a debased mind.

And since they did not see fit to acknowledge God, God gave them up to a debased mind to do what ought not to be done. They were filled with all manner of unrighteousness, evil, covetousness, malice. They are full of envy, murder, strife, deceit, maliciousness. They are gossips, slanderers, haters of God, insolent, haughty, boastful, inventors of evil, disobedient to parents, foolish, faithless, heartless, ruthless.

(Romans 1:28-31 ESV)

As I chew on that list of “to do”s which ought not to be done, some hit pretty close to home. Not that I give approval to them or seek to make a practice of them, but, if I’m honest with myself, I can so easily participate in them. How come? ‘Cause I have a debased mind? No, I’m a new creation in Christ with a mind which is being renewed and leading to a transformation where my behaviors increasingly fall in line with the will of God and “what is good and acceptable and perfect” (Rom. 12:2). But though I have a new mind, remnants of the old man still exist and, along with them, behaviors akin to a debased mind.

And so, while this passage can be used to point the finger at others, it can also be instructive when I see the fingers pointing back at me. When I see my new man tripped up participating in old ways. When I recognize the ways of a world which has rejected its Creator rearing their ugly head in the kingdom in which I live. Malice, envy, strife, and maliciousness. Gossiping, slandering, and boasting. Faithlessness, heartlessness, and ruthlessness. O, wretched man that I am! (Rom. 7:24).

But while my behaviors at times might be as those whom God has given over to themselves, for those who are His there’s no giving up. Bought with a price, redeemed through the cross, adopted as children of God, our failures only prove the gospel’s case — that “where sin increased, grace abounded all the more” (Rom. 5:20b). That the blood of Christ cleanses us from ALL our sin — not just those sins up until “we first believed” but those sins, as well, that beset us even while we yet believe.

Though I may still do (way too often) what ought not to be done, on God’s part there’s no giving up those who are in Christ Jesus. Instead, His kindness leads us to repentance (Rom. 2:4), and His grace points us again to the cross, and His steadfast love is conveyed again to our heart and soul.

To loosely quote Timothy Keller, I really am more sinful and flawed in myself than I want to believe, yet at the very same time I am more loved and accepted in Jesus Christ than I could ever imagine or dare to hope.

Yeah, I lose out when I cherry pick this passage. Because then I miss the awe and wonder and joy of knowing that for those who are His — even when we sometimes act like those who aren’t — there’s no giving up.

And that’s good news! Amen?

What wondrous grace!

To God be the glory!

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Reason Frankly

Working my way through Leviticus and, to be honest, there’s a lot of the commands-to-obey that don’t quite land with me. And I’m guessing it’s because they deal with the kind of stuff that was done in ancient Egypt, where the people of God used to live, or were practices they were to avoid in the ancient land of Canaan, where the people were gonna live. Don’t be like them, says the LORD (Lev. 18:1-3). Okay, that’s a principle I can noodle on.

But then, there are those commands-to-obey which do resonate. Commands with a direct line to where and how I live today. Especially those commands that deal with the people of God — commands relating to my people. Instructions on how God’s holy people are to be holy (Lev. 19:1-2). Commands pertaining to being one another’s brother, one another’s sister, one another’s neighbor (Lev. 19:9-18). And it’s one of those commands I’m chewing on this morning.

“You shall not hate your brother in your heart, but you shall reason frankly with your neighbor, lest you incur sin because of him.”

(Leviticus 19:17 ESV)

Reason frankly with your neighbor . . . That’s the command I’m hovering over.

Full disclosure . . . Of the translations I go to during morning devos, the ESV is the only translation which renders it this way. Most others render it “rebuke” or “reprove” your neighbor. Like the ESV, the NIV says it is to be done “frankly.” The NLT says, “Confront people directly.” Peterson feels the most ESV-esque with his rendering, “Get it out into the open” (MSG).

Reason or rebuke . . . confront or reprove . . . po-tay-to or po-tah-to . . . whatever the exact nuance, don’t hate in your heart. Don’t hold a grudge secretly. Don’t despise clandestinely. Instead, reason frankly. Get it out into the open.

The world around us is increasingly defined by nasty tribal allegiances. Tribes not defined just by what they’re for but just as much, if not more so, by what they’re against. Or, to employ a bit of hyperbole, defined by what they hate. And these worldly tribes have a tendency to hide behind social media posts spewing fractious rhetoric, rather than dealing with their differences out in the open, face to face, with frank reasoning.

And the world has a way of weaseling its way into the church, just as Egypt had shaped the Israelites and as Canaan would too, unless the people of God determined to act as the set apart people God had set them apart to be. That includes, I think, the world infiltrating the church with the leaven of tribalism and hidden animosity. Ways of Egypt unworthy of promised land living. Conduct in Canaan untenable for pilgrims looking for a city (Heb. 11:!4-16).

Instead, the people of God should be a people who are on guard against hidden heart bitterness and are marked as a people who reason frankly out in the open. Debating respectfully. Correcting gently. Living out conviction compassionately. Bearing ultimate allegiance to the kingdom of heaven only.

There shouldn’t be tribes among the people of God. And the absence of open discussion, the inability to have candid conversations, may be an indicator that we might be carrying more Egypt baggage than we should. That we’ve been more influenced by Canaan culture than is healthy for a holy people.

Instead, we should place a premium on loving one another, on being one with one another, as we seek to follow together the Lion of the tribe of Judah. Our unity not as a result of uniformity in thought or conviction, but as the fruit of the Spirit of God and as the evidence of the power of the gospel of grace. A unity manifest as we regard one another as brothers, as sisters, as neighbors and family. A oneness apparent, in part, because we’re people who can reason frankly.

Oh, to be such a people.

Only by His grace. Always for His glory.

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Seventy-Seven Times

“I’ll take hard-to-obey commands of Jesus for $1,000, Alex.”

“Okay. And the answer is: On this one you’ll want to go with the ESV’s seventy-seven rather than the CSB’s seventy times seven. But in reality, you’re not gonna be crazy about going with either.”

“Hmm . . . Can I pick another hard-to-obey command?”

“Nope. Sorry.”

“Okay. (Sigh). What is the number of times a brother, or a sister, will sin against me and I will still forgive him or her?”

“Yessir. That is correct.”

—————————

Hovering over seventy-seven. Or, four-hundred-ninety, as the case may be. Chewing on what it would take to forgive the same person for harming me that many times.

If I’m honest with myself, far easier to relate to something I read in this psalms this morning than to think about multiples of seven.

But You, O LORD, be gracious to me,
       and raise me up, that I may repay them!

(Psalm 35:10 ESV)

Grace to repay. That seems to fit more easily than grace in order to grace in return. Especially when that grace in return is to be returned seventy-seven times. Unimaginably if it’s required seventy times seven times.

But that, according to Jesus, is what the fruit of abounding grace looks like. Grace which abounds in return. It’s what is to flow out when living waters are flowing within.

Jesus says so in a story he tells about the kingdom of heaven, comparing it to “a king who wished to settle accounts with his servants” (Matthew 18:23-35). Spoiler alert, the king chooses to settle accounts by forgiving accounts. When that debt is unpayable, he, effectively, chooses to pay it himself.

Unbelievably, he releases one particular servant who owes him so much that, practically, it’s almost beyond counting. An amount which would take multiple lifetimes to pay. An amount worthy of being thrown into a debtor’s prison and then, essentially, throwing away the key. And yet, the master determines to write, “Paid in Full” on his servant’s I.O.U. and sets him free.

But when it comes to this debt-free servant dealing with what a fellow servant man owes him, different story. His fellow servant owes him “only” a year’s wages. Not billions of dollars, yet still no small amount — kind of like seventy times seven, I think. And when his fellow servant can’t pay up right way, the debt-released servant has him thrown into prison until he comes ups with the dough.

“Then his master summoned him and said to him, ‘You wicked servant! I forgave you all that debt because you pleaded with me. And should not you have had mercy on your fellow servant, as I had mercy on you?'”

(Matthew 18:32-33 ESV)

Should not you have had mercy on your fellow servant, as I had mercy on you?

Yup. Grace received should beget grace in return. Abundant grace gotten should manifest itself in unimaginable grace given — like in forgiving a brother, or a sister, seventy-seven times. Or maybe even seventy times seven.

“O’ Lord,” I think to myself, “not sure I can do that.”

To which Jesus, through the Spirit, whispers in return, “Yeah Pete. I know you can’t. But we can.” A reminder that I have been crucified with Christ and that it’s no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me (Gal. 2:20).

Mine is to be willing. Willing because of the gospel.

His is to enable. Enabling through the gospel.

Seventy-seven times — or seventy times seven times — if need be.

Only by His grace. Only for His glory.

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An Open Ear (2013 Rerun)

Most often, when I think about the “surgery” God has done through the dynamics of salvation, I think about what God’s done to the heart. Through Ezekiel, we’re told that, through the regenerating work of salvation, God performs a heart transplant . . . that He replaces the old heart with a new heart . . . that He removes the heart of stone and upgrades it with a heart of flesh (Ezekiel 36:26-27). The new heart is a heart that can respond to the things of God . . . a heart attuned to the sound of His voice.

But reading in Psalm 40, I discover that in order for the heart to respond . . . in order for it to pick up on the Spirit’s voice . . . that there’s another “procedure” required . . .

In sacrifice and offering You have not delighted,
       but You have given me an open ear.

(Psalm 40:6 ESV)

When Jesus was preaching and teaching, often He would conclude with “He who has an ear to hear, let him hear.” In Revelation 2 and 3, when the Lord of the Church, through John, writes His letters to His people, He concludes each of them with, “He who has an ear, let him hear what the Spirit says to the churches.” So where did the ear to hear come from?

But You have given me an open ear.

Apparently, the word for “open” literally means to dig, or to bore, or to excavate. It has the idea of digging out a well. So, just as we might say, “God has given me a new heart” . . . we could also say that He has dug out my ears.

A divine Q-Tip (or maybe in my case a holy auger, as it were) has been applied to remove that which would hinder us from hearing His voice. Through His Spirit, He has tuned us into His frequency, that we might receive His Word and that, receiving it, it might find its way to new hearts ready to respond to that Word.

What a mistake it would be for me to take any credit for hearing or listening to God. What folly to think that somehow because I was spiritually attuned that I thus became a candidate for His grace and mercy. No, He dug out my ears. He bore through my spiritual deafness. He has given me an open ear.

I desire to do Your will, O my God;
       Your law is within my heart.

(Psalm 40:8 ESV)

The people of God desire to the will of God because He has placed the law of God within new hearts. And the law of God makes it’s way to the heart for God through ears opened by the grace of God.

O’, praise God for ears to hear!

Nothing of my doing . . . but You have given me an open ear.

Speak, LORD, for Your servant hears.

(1Samuel 3:9 ESV)

By Your grace . . . for Your glory . . .

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Bet Ya’ He Wasn’t Wearing Shoes

Hovering over the first part of Matthew 17. Trying to imagine a face shining like the sun and clothes as white and bright as light itself. Not even the best, darkest sunglasses are going to allow you to stare into that very long. Trying to imagine what it was to look upon the transfigured Christ.

Literally, it was a great metamorphoo. A mind-blowing, eye-burning transformation. And that’s what I’m trying to behold with the eye of faith this morning. Jesus’ entire countenance changed before the physical eyes of Peter, James, and John. “Resplendent with divine brightness”, my Greek lexicon says — so that Peter, James, and John were able to peer into the majesty but for a moment. And all this, records Matthew, “up a high mountain.”

But they didn’t see Jesus only. They saw two others speaking with the robed-in-light Lord.

And after six days Jesus took with Him Peter and James, and John his brother, and led them up a high mountain by themselves. And He was transfigured before them, and His face shone like the sun, and His clothes became white as light. And behold, there appeared to them Moses and Elijah, talking with Him.

(Matthew 17:1-3 ESV)

While trying to imagine the scene, I fixate on Moses. After all, this wasn’t his first rodeo. Being on mountains and beholding God’s glory was kind of Moses’ thing. Think Mount Sinai, wrapped in smoke “because the LORD had descended on it in fire” (Ex. 19:18). And God calls Moses to come up the mountain and into the cloud (Ex. 19:20). And what about Mt. Sinai 2.0 when Moses returns after that little “golden calf” incident? This time the “LORD descended in the cloud and stood there with him” declaring His holy name, showing Moses His glory as Moses took shelter in the cleft of the rock (Ex. 33:18-23, 34:5).

But as I think about Moses on the mount with Jesus, the encounter of the divine kind that comes to mind, in particular, is the one in front of a burning bush.

Now Moses was keeping the flock of his father-in-law, Jethro, the priest of Midian, and he led his flock to the west side of the wilderness and came to Horeb, the mountain of God. And the angel of the LORD appeared to him in a flame of fire out of the midst of a bush. . . . And He said, “I am the God of your father, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob.” And Moses hid his face, for he was afraid to look at God.

(Exodus 3:1-2a, 6 ESV)

A burning bush. Aflame but not consumed. The Angel of the LORD appearing to Moses out of the midst of the bush, cast in the light of the fire’s radiance. The Messenger declaring, “I am God.” Like I said, the Mount of Transfiguration wasn’t Moses’ first and up-close brush with the glorified Second Person of the Trinity (yeah, I think the Angel of the LORD was the pre-incarnate Son of God).

So, what I’m wondering as I hover over the Mount of Transfiguration is this, “Was Moses wearing shoes?”

God called to him out of the bush, “Moses, Moses!” And he said, “Here I am.” Then He said, “Do not come near; take your sandals off your feet, for the place on which you are standing is holy ground.”

(Exodus 3:4b-5 ESV)

Holy ground. That was the state of the soil on that night Moses stood before the burning bush. Holy ground. That’s was the makeup of that mountain on the night when Peter, James, and John had front row seats to the glorified Christ meeting again with Moses. Holy ground. That’s what any and all ground is when in the presence of Jesus. Holy ground. Kind of feeling like I’m on it right now. Time to take your shoes off.

So, was Moses wearing shoes on that transfiguration night? Bet ya’ he wasn’t!

A barefoot Moses before the beloved Son of God. Hmm . . . that image just might stick.

With Jesus. Standing on holy ground. What sweet privilege.

Only by His grace.

Oh, to behold His glory.

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The Clothes Really Do Make the Man

The “price of admission” wasn’t so much their character as it was their clothing. Not about all the good they had done, but all about the garments they would don. Less about their resume, more about their robe. Chewing this morning on what it takes to be ministering in the Holy Place.

From the blue and purple and scarlet yarns they made finely woven garments, for ministering in the Holy Place. They made the holy garments for Aaron, as the LORD had commanded Moses.

(Exodus 39:1 ESV)

Ministering in the Holy Place . . . Serving in the sanctuary. Doing for God in the very presence of God. Worshiping within the veil. What privilege for the priest. What access for Aaron, the “light bringer”.

Aaron. You know, the guy who made the golden calf (Ex. 32). Who not only brought great shame upon himself, but also great sin upon the people (Ex. 32:21). Yeah, that Aaron. But now the one who would not only enter the Holy Place but also have access to the Holy of Holies where the glory of God rested above the cherubim. Talk about a comeback. Talk about not getting what you deserve. Talk about grace. And if I’m picking up what’s being laid down here, it was because of what he would wear. The clothes really do make the man.

The clothes make the man. The clothes make the woman. A modern proverb reflecting a modern reality that a person’s appearance affects how a person is perceived. That a person will be judged by others by what they wear. In that context, it’s perhaps somewhat shallow. But when it comes to ministering in the Holy Place, you better believe the clothes make the man, that the garments make the woman. True then. True today.

As believers, we are priests. A holy priesthood, offering spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ (1Peter 2:5). A royal priesthood, proclaiming the excellencies of Him who called us out of darkness into His marvelous light (1Peter 2:9). And, like Aaron, priests not because of who we are or what we’ve done — actually, despite of who we were and what we did — but ultimately because of the clothes we wear.

I will greatly rejoice in the LORD;
       my soul shall exult in my God,
for He has clothed me
       with the garments of salvation;
He has covered me
       with the robe of righteousness.

(Isaiah 61:10a ESV)

For as many of you as were baptized into Christ have put on Christ.

(Galatians 3:27 ESV)

Clothed with garments of salvation . . . covered with the robe of righteousness . . . having put on Christ. That’s what admit us into the Holy Place. That’s what qualifies us for service. Nothing in our pedigree nor our performance. All, and solely His provision.

O’ the wonder of being an “insider.” Of having access to the very presence of God.

But greater yet is the worship, as I meditate on filthy rags (Isa. 64:6 NKJV) being covered up by a righteous robe. As I wonder at the polluted garments (ESV) which have been exchanged for Christ’s perfect character. My union with Christ alone being the finely woven garments allowing me access to the Holy Place. And there, to minister before the Holy One.

Hallelujah! What a great salvation.

Hallelujah! What a Savior!

All dressed up and ready to go.

Only by His grace. Only for His glory.

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His or Mine? Yes.

It’s two words in a somewhat familiar psalm that have captured my attention this morning. Two words. Which I’ve underlined with a purple color-pencil as they seem to be a command to obey. But to be honest, not quite sure exactly what is being commanded. Perhaps it’s because these two words may actually entail two commands to obey.

Fret not yourself because of evildoers;
       be not envious of wrongdoers!
For they will soon fade like the grass
       and wither like the green herb.
Trust in the LORD, and do good;
       dwell in the land and befriend faithfulness.

(Psalm 37:1-2 ESV)

Befriend faithfulness . . . Those are the two words I’m chewing on this morning.

The context for David’s song seems to be how to live in a land of “evildoers.” Twelve times in the song’s 40 verses, reference is made to the “the wicked.” Whatever the exact circumstances of David’s poetic inspiration, David is counseling whoever has ears to hear on how to not only survive but thrive in “evil times” (37:19). Hmm . . . could be a song for our times? Ya’ think?

I remember some teaching I heard on the psalm as a young man. A view of the song which built on five pillars found within its lyrics:

  • “Trust in the LORD” (v.3);
  • “Delight yourself in the LORD” (v. 4);
  • “Commit your way to the LORD” (v.5);
  • “Be still before the LORD” (v. 7);
  • “Wait for the LORD” (v. 34).

Though probably received 40 years ago, I have never forgotten the impact of that brother’s exhortation. Good teaching. Not only at the best of times, but, according to David, for the worst of times.

And within one of those foundations, “Trust in the LORD”, the two words that have grabbed me this morning: Befriend faithfulness.

Okay. But whose faithfulness? His or mine?

In a eco-system of prevailing wickedness and wrongdoers, am I to befriend, or literally “feed on” or “pasture within” God’s faithfulness? I think so. Kind of goes with “trust in the LORD”, doesn’t it? Whatever the day brings, especially in a culture marked by corruption and chaos, leaning into the assurance of God’s daily care and provision would seem to be not only a wise thing to do, but a necessary thing as well. Without befriending His faithfulness, not sure how we would withstand the bombardment of the world’s wickedness. So, yeah. Befriend God’s faithfulness.

But could befriend faithfulness instead be a command to become intimately familiar with being faithful? A reference to my faithfulness? I think so, also. Kind of goes with “do good”, doesn’t’ it? The NASB seems to think so when it renders the exhortation as “cultivate faithfulness.” Be a friend to being faithful, even in a land that seems at war, or at the least intent on warping, the Way. Keep on keepin’ on . . . determining to make the main thing the main thing. Befriend being faithful.

So which is it? Embrace His faithfulness or link arms with a determination to exercise faithfulness? Is it His or mine? Short answer: Yes.

Isn’t that the essence of trusting? Resting in His mercies which are new every morning (Lam. 3:22-23) even as I rekindle the desire to walk in those mercies in a manner worthy of my calling (Eph. 4:1)? Welcoming each day His promised, steadfast provision, while also wanting, with a Spirit-sparked determination, to follow with steadfast devotion? As someone else has said, abiding with the intent of acting? I’m thinking . . .

Trust in the LORD . . .

Befriend faithfulness . . . His and mine.

Only by His grace. Only for His glory.

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There’s a River!

There are rivers. And then, there are rivers! Rivers that are more like large streams and almost run dry in the summer months, and rivers which, at certain points, you can barely see across as they eventually end up pouring millions of gallons of runoff into the ocean regardless of the time of year. Rivers for catching fish, and rivers for shipping containers. Yeah, there are rivers. And then, there are rivers! This morning I’m pretty sure I’m reading about the latter and not the former.

How precious is Your steadfast love, O God!
       The children of mankind take refuge in
              the shadow of Your wings.
They feast on the abundance of Your house,
       and You give them drink from the river of Your delights.
For with You is the fountain of life;
       in Your light do we see light.

(Psalm 36:7-9 ESV)

The river of Your delights . . . That’s the river I’m noodling on this morning.

Rivers are kind of a big deal in the biblical story. It began amidst a river (Gen. 2:10), and it’s gonna end around a river (Rev. 22:1-2). And in between, guess what? There’s a river. A river of God’s delights.

A river — a torrent, a flood. Of His delights — His luxurious pleasures. There’s a river and He’s made it available for the children of mankind to drink from.

What does drinking from the river of God’s delights look like? Sampling? Sipping? Conserving? Or is it, chugging, gulping, and gorging? Is it, as Peterson puts it, filling our tankards? (With non-alcoholic beverages of course)

What does it taste like? Bitter? Blah? Like taking my medicine? Or is it intoxicating? Addicting? Tasting so good that you can’t stop and run the risk of drowning in it?

Like I said before, I’m leaning to the latter rather than the former.

If it’s God’s river, there’s no scarcity. So, why am I so often more of a sampler than a swigger?

If it’s God’s river of delights, then why do I so often act like I’ve sucked on a lemon rather than plunged into something “sweeter than honey and drippings of the honeycomb” (Ps. 19:10)? Why is it more like sipping on hot tea after a funeral than hoisting one high at an Oktoberfest?

There is a river. A here and now river. An overflowing river. A thirst-quenching river. A river of God’s delights. A fountain of life. A river of living water.

Jesus stood up and cried out, “If anyone thirsts, let him come to Me and drink. Whoever believes in Me, as the Scripture has said, ‘Out of his heart will flow rivers of living water.'” Now this He said about the Spirit.

(John 7:37b-39a ESV)

Yup . . . there are rivers. And then, there’s a river! The river of God’s delights!

So, let’s fill our tankards!

By His grace. For His glory.

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All My Bones

The songwriter knew that only a great deliverance could rescue him from such great desperation. That only God showing up could reverse what was going down. And in the anticipation of such a great salvation, the poet could imagine a flood-like response of overflowing adoration.

Contend, O LORD, with those who
       contend with me;
fight against those who fight against me! . . .

For without cause they hid their net for me;
       without cause they dug a pit for my life.
Let destruction come upon him
       when he does not know it!
And let the net that he hid ensnare him;
       let him fall into it— to his destruction!

Then my soul will rejoice in the LORD,
       exulting in His salvation.
All my bones shall say,
       “O LORD, who is like You,

delivering the poor
       from him who is too strong for him,
       the poor and needy from him who robs him?”

(Psalm 35:1, 7-10 ESV)

All my bones . . . Those are the three words I’m chewing on this morning.

Everything within me. Every fiber of my being. All that I am. My very essence. At my very core. With all my heart and soul. Fervently. Intensely. Passionately. Wholeheartedly.

You get the idea.

Now apply the idea.

All my bones shall say,
       “O LORD, who is like You?”

Thinking this morning that people of great deliverance — people who once lived in great despair and darkness but who are now people of great life and light — will be people who, from time to time, will find themselves whispering or shouting, thinking or singing, with all my bones, “O LORD, who is like You?”

Way too easy to become way too familiar with the cross and it’s rescue. For the good news to somehow default to old news.

But oh, when the Spirit who lives within us reminds us of our redemption, when He impresses upon us afresh the wonders of our reconciliation, then, with every bone in our body, how can we not go down on our face and lift up our heart and respond with all our being, “O LORD, who is like You?”

Thinkin’ we can’t . . .

All my bones . . .

In awe of all His grace . . .

For all His glory . . .

Amen?

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He Still Watches Me

After reading Psalm 33 this morning, I went back through my journal and looked at Psalm 33 entries from the past. There was quite a few of them, the first being in 2008, the first year I started posting my thoughts. A number of them dealt with singing. After all, proclaims the psalmist, “Praise befits the upright” (33:1). In one entry, I noted that on a “praise-per-inch” basis, you’re not gonna get a much better bang for your buck than Psalm 33.

But then I came to the entry for 2017. That year I was behind in my reading plan. While I usually try and track a week or so ahead of plan, that year I was a few days behind. Makes sense. There was a lot going on in February 2017. It was around this time 8 years ago that we brought in hospice and entered our final vigil. My wife went to be with the Lord, February 17th, 2017. Below are my thoughts from February 13th.

Been a few more trials, different types of “deep ends”, since then. For many, our current cultural moment feels a bit overwhelming. But one thing hasn’t changed. His eye is still on the sparrow, and I know He still watches me. (Make sure to watch the video.)


February 13, 2017

Managed to get some time in my study this morning and catch up on my reading plan. Good to get some quiet time and listen. Word of God speak.

But didn’t get to my computer until early evening. Kind of the way our days have been going lately.

As I was catching up in the psalms, the following verses caught my attention and gave me something to chew on.

Behold, the eye of the LORD is on those who fear Him,
       on those who hope in His steadfast love.    (Psalm 33:18 ESV)

The eyes of the LORD are toward the righteous
       and His ears toward their cry.    (Psalm 34:15 ESV)

Something about knowing you’re being watched that can be kind of intimidating . . . especially if you have something to hide! But there’s also something about knowing you’re being watched that can act as a source of courage and comfort.

I remember my kids when they were little getting ready to try something new. Something they thought was kind of risky and dangerous like jumping into the deep end of the pool by themselves. They’d walk to the deep end. Stand by the edge. Survey the leap they were about to take. Remind themselves that they were pretty sure they’d be able to swim back to the edge. And then, as a final safety check they’d look over at me and say, “Dad, are you watching?”

I was. And all systems were a go. Splash! Into the deep end they went . . . all by themselves.

Life can kind of be like a series of “deep ends.” Something new you have to experience comes along. Something hard or dangerous or simply something you don’t want to have to do. But you know you gotta. Others have done it, so can you.

So you get ready. You know God’s promises are sure and that you really can do all things through Him who strengthens you (Php. 4:13). You believe that His grace really is sufficient and that His power really is made known in your weakness (2Cor. 12:9). And so you’re ready to take that next step. But you still want to look up and say, “Dad, are you watching?”

The songwriter twice reminds me: Yes, He’s watching.

Behold the eye of Abba Father is on those who fear Him, on those who have placed their hope solely in the eternal promise of His steadfast love. The eyes of our Father are locked on His children, fully knowing how scary it is to charter into unknown and unpleasant territory. And He hears their cry.

As I was chewing on the blessedness of being watched by my heavenly Father, a segment from an old (like really old) Gaither DVD came to mind (pardon Michael English’s fashion faux pas). “His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me,” they sing over and over again. It brought a smile to my face and a bit of joy induced lightness to my heart. If you have a couple of minutes, click here, sit back, and let it put a bit of a smile on your face — and some praise in your heart — as well.

Yeah, getting a bit of time in the Word and a bit more time on my computer has been a refreshing pause today. Now, back into the deep end.

By His grace. For His glory.

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