My People

Posted on January 31, 2025 by Pete

Corinth. I read the word, I think of the church. The divided church. The quarreling church. The adultery in the pew church. The suing one another church. The church of a dozen questions — about marriage, about food sacrificed to idols, about spiritual gifts. The church that messed up the Lord’s supper. The church that eventually turned on Paul. Oh, I know about that church.

But then I keep reading and I’m gently rebuked. Not because I’ve misunderstood what the letters to the Corinthians were dealing with, but because I’ve misidentified the people to whom the letters were written. People, who Jesus said, are “My people.”

After this Paul left Athens and went to Corinth. . . . And many of the Corinthians hearing Paul believed and were baptized. And the Lord said to Paul one night in a vision, “Do not be afraid, but go on speaking and do not be silent, for I am with you, and no one will attack you to harm you, for I have many in this city who are My people.” And he stayed a year and six months, teaching the word of God among them.

(Acts 18:1, 8b-11 ESV)

My people . . . That’s what pops this morning.

While I might tend towards a bit of smugness as I think about that church, it’s because I forget that Jesus also knew all about that church — even before they were a church. And still, He says to Paul, “Keep preaching. Keep teaching. Keep adding to the church’s number. ‘Cause there are a lot of folks in this town who are going to believe the gospel. Many in this city who are My people.”

Think about it. If New Testament believers had had their acts together, we wouldn’t have a New Testament beyond Acts. If the early church was a healthy, functioning church, no reason to write letters to correct the church. So, when we talk about wanting to be like the first century church . . . ta da!! . . . we are! Yet, in all our mixed-up messiness, in all our frustrating failures, in all our confused quirkiness, hear Jesus say, “These are the many who are My people.“

My people . . . That’s the church — the whole church. Not just “the best” of the church. Not just those who have their theological i’s and doctrinal t’s crossed. Not just those who have figured out “community” and “being on mission.” Not just those who don’t need to read Paul’s letters because they don’t have the issues addressed by Paul’s letters.

No, My people is we people. Those of us who don’t have our acts (pun intended) quite together. Those of us who are still figuring out the mysteries of the ways of God. Those of us who are still fracturing the unity of the Spirit of God. Those of us who are still messing up when it comes to worshiping God. Those of us still limping along as we keep longing to know fully the kingdom of God. Those of us who are still being tripped up by sin against God. Those would be, says Jesus, My people.

I’m reminded that there is nothing that we works-in-progress can do to make God love us more. Nothing we can do that can cause God to love us less. Nothing that makes us any more, or any less His people. For while we were yet sinners — while we were yet the messed-up church to be — God showed the depths of His love for us in that Christ died for us (Rom. 5:8). So that, one day, in some town somewhere, we’d hear the gospel, and respond to the gospel, and be welcomed by the Savior as My people.

Corinth. What a bunch. But Jesus’ bunch. Jesus’ people. And my people too.

Making the wonders of grace all that more wonderful.

Making the glory of God all that more glorious.

Amen?

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The Morning After the Night Before (2013 Remix)

Posted on January 30, 2025 by Pete

What a night! No sooner had they begun to revel in the “thrill of victory” after having walked out of a plundered Egypt, then they found their backs to the sea, certain they were about to experience “the agony of defeat” as Pharaoh’s armies were bearing down on them. Despite the recent experience of that first Passover, when God revealed that He was for them and nothing could stand against them, and even though the pillar of cloud was literally still in their midst, there was something about seeing the dust being kicked up by hundreds and hundreds of chariots that struck fear in the hearts of the people God had just delivered with a great deliverance. Something that made them want to go back to slavery rather than deal with what appeared to be the perils of freedom (Ex.14:10-12).

But that was yesterday. And chariots don’t float. So, as morning broke . . . as they looked back from the other side of the Red Sea . . . as they beheld the lifeless bodies of their pursuers . . . their fear of the Egyptians gave way to a fear of the LORD (Ex. 14:31). On the morning after the night before, angst gave way to awe. Thus, the cry of these former slaves of Egypt became the song of the redeemed.

Then Moses and the people of Israel sang this song to the LORD, saying,

“I will sing to the LORD, for He has triumphed gloriously;
       the horse and his rider He has thrown into the sea.
The LORD is my strength and my song,
       and He has become my salvation;
this is my God, and I will praise Him,
       my father’s God, and I will exalt Him.”

(Exodus 15:1-2 ESV)

To be honest, there’s a part of me that wants to sit in judgment on the Israelites. After all, they had witnessed the plagues in Egypt. They had lived through Passover knowing the power of the blood to save. They had walked out of Egypt not only as former slaves but as rich slaves, their former task masters handing over to them abundant treasures and material goods. They were being escorted by the very presence of God Himself in the pillar of cloud by day and the pillar of fire by night. So, how could they get so bent out of shape, how could they so quickly want to go back into bondage when Pharaoh took one last run at reclaiming his workforce?

But if I’m really honest, I know that deliverance can be a scary thing. That freedom comes with a whole new set of dangers. That being redeemed doesn’t mean being removed from the enemies of life. I get that night still falls on those who have been freed from bondage.

Yet, I’m also thinking that it’s during those times — times when your back’s against the wall (or the Red Sea, as the case may be) — that those who have been bought by the Lord are ready to be reminded to be brave in the Lord and “fear not, stand firm, and see the salvation of the LORD.” When those rescued of God are ready to be shown they will be defended by God and that “the LORD will fight for you, and you have only to be silent” (Ex. 14:13-14).

There is a morning after the night before. For those delivered from slavery, there will be repeated deliverance from the storms. There’s a coming out the other side where God’s feeble, fear-filled, followers experience again the mighty hand of God acting again on their behalf.

And in that morning moment — and it may be just a moment, for the next challenge may not be far off — praise is fitting. To exult in the victory is to know that it is the LORD who has triumphed. That it is God who is our strength. That He really has become our salvation. Fitting, thus, that He should be our song.

While it might not be the final victory — more trials to come, more seas to face, more nights to endure — to remember and reflect on those mornings after the nights before is to cling to Him as “my God.” It is to look beyond the chariots and still praise Him. To recall His faithfulness to generations of His people and exalt Him.

I need to savor those mornings after the nights before. I need to bring them to remembrance when times are good. I need to recall them when times are not so good. And, at all times, I need to be singing the song of those bought with a great price and brought out with a great salvation.

You have led in Your steadfast love the people whom You have redeemed;
       You have guided them by Your strength to Your holy abode. . . .
You will bring them in and plant them on Your own mountain,
       the place, O LORD, which You have made for Your abode,
       the sanctuary, O Lord, which Your hands have established.

(Exodus 15:13, 17 ESV)

On the morning after the night before and during the night before the morning after, I will sing to the LORD!

Only by His grace. Always for His glory.

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Dealing with Some Dissonance

Posted on January 29, 2025 by Pete

Not sure I’m going to be able to adequately capture in a few words what I’m chewing on this morning. It’s one of the those “contrast” mornings where there’s conflicting, maybe even colliding observations from two of my readings.

First, I get a bit high-centered on a verse in Exodus — pausing, hovering, and meditating on the verse for a bit before regaining traction to move on.

At midnight the LORD struck down all the firstborn in the land of Egypt, from the firstborn of Pharaoh who sat on his throne to the firstborn of the captive who was in the dungeon, and all the firstborn of the livestock. And Pharaoh rose up in the night, he and all his servants and all the Egyptians. And there was a great cry in Egypt, for there was not a house where someone was not dead.

(Exodus 12:29-30 ESV)

There was not a house where someone was not dead . . . Got stuck there. Finished the chapter and then went back to try and wrap my mind around that phrase.

Not a house! Not one, in all of Egypt, that didn’t have someone they would need to bury. How awful. It’s way too easy for me to focus solely on the deliverance of God’s people and skip over the judgment of His enemies. Too easy to think of those who walked away and forget those washed away. What was it to hear that “great cry” in Egypt that night? What was it to be one of the criers? Heavy sigh.

Then, after reading in Matthew and then Acts, but with Exodus 12 still in mind, I close my readings in the Psalms. And it’s a line in a song of David that creates the dissonance in my deliberations.

One thing have I asked of the LORD,
       that will I seek after:
that I may dwell in the house of the LORD
       all the days of my life,
to gaze upon the beauty of the LORD
       and to inquire in His temple.

(Psalm 27:4 ESV)

To gaze upon the beauty of the LORD . . . That’s the phrase I want to run with. That’s the one I want to settle into. To contemplate His beauty. To behold His delightfulness. To fix the eyes of my heart on His pleasantness.

Yet, I can’t shake not a house where someone was not dead. Can’t disassociate the beauty of the LORD from the LORD who struck down all the firstborn in the land of Egypt. Can’t compartmentalize the call to delight in the LORD while still reeling from the implications of the deliverance of the LORD. How do those two things go together?

Seems to me, it comes down to where you’re going to anchor your soul, and which verse is going to provide context for the other. To cast the LORD’s beauty in the shadow of Egypt’s judgment, or Egypt’s judgment processed in the prevailing truth of the LORD’s beauty. In light of the truth of the gospel, I’m going with the LORD’s beauty as the faith anchor for my soul.

Though hard to reconcile in the details, the same holiness that emits a gaze worthy beauty, is the holiness that demands payment for evil. The wonder of deliverance can only be realized against the backdrop of an enemy’s defeat. The Exodus horror must be viewed in light of the Psalm’s beauty. Right?

Isn’t that how faith works? Isn’t that what it means, at least in part, to trust in the LORD with all your heart (Prov. 3:5-6)? Believing that God takes no pleasure in the death of the wicked (Ezek. 18:23, 32; 33:11)? Resting in the incomprehensible reality that while God calls the wicked to forsake his ways, and though God is slow to anger and ready to wait, God, if He is God, must eventually judge the wicked when they persist to harden their hearts? That His thoughts and His ways are so much higher than ours (Isa. 55:7-9)? Isn’t that what quiets the dissonance? I’m thinkin’ . . .

So, while I can’t get evict the mental picture of Egyptian households on Passover night from my mind, it is eclipsed by my God’s beauty, the splendor of holiness (Ps. 29:2).

And so, I gaze.

Makes sense?

Because of grace. For His glory.

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Vindication

Posted on January 28, 2025 by Pete

As I hover over Psalm 26 this morning, what I’m chewing on is a thought that justification and vindication are two different things. I’m thinking that if justification deals with sin, vindication deals with the unfounded accusation of sin. If justification deals with making right wrong acts, vindication is making known sincere intentions. That’s what David wanted — vindication.

Vindicate me, O LORD,
       for I have walked in my integrity,
       and I have trusted in the LORD without wavering.
Prove me, O LORD, and try me;
       test my heart and my mind.
For Your steadfast love is before my eyes,
       and I walk in Your faithfulness.

(Psalm 26:1-2 ESV)

All David wanted was his name cleared (MSG). Specifically, some suggest, in the matter — or supposed matter — of his ill-will towards Saul (1Sam. 24:9).

David’s appeal to the LORD wasn’t to stamp all his actions and deeds as perfect, but wanted God to bring to light that his motives were pure. He had walked in integrity, in innocence and simplicity, when it came to serving Saul. Though he knew the throne would one day be his, he wasn’t jockeying for position or planning some treacherous coup, but instead had determined to trust in the LORD without wavering. Though there may have been missteps and misunderstandings along the way, David’s heart was to serve Saul as he followed the LORD, walking in God’s steadfast love and faithfulness.

But David wouldn’t trust his own heart to diagnosis his own heart. Instead, he invites the LORD to prove him, to try him, and to test him. “Search me, O God,” he would sing in another song, “and know my heart! Try me and know my thoughts! And see if there be any grievous way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting!” (Psalm 139:23-24). And then, having had his heart searched and His thoughts known, having dealt with any grievous ways, David would ask of the LORD, “Vindicate me. Clear my name.”

We don’t always get what we want. Vindication before others might just have to be seen as a “nice to have.” But to be known by the LORD, tested of the LORD, and vindicated in His sight — to confidently wash our hands in innocence and boldly come before His altar with thanksgiving (Ps. 26:6-7) — is the far greater prize. Our vindication, though not the same as our justification, possible only because of our justification, Christ’s atoning work on our behalf and His imputed righteousness to our account.

Vindication.

Might it be so, Lord.

By Your grace. For Your glory.

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Poor is Where You Want to Be

Posted on January 27, 2025 by Pete

Okay, not gonna lie! I get pretty pumped when I can remember something I read six months ago and the impact it had on me then (hey, in these days of my sixth decade I’m excited that I remember stuff from last week). Such is the case this morning reading in Matthew as I recall that I read the same thing in Luke last June (here’s the thinking then).

It’s an “one-of-these-things-is-not-quite-like-the-other” observation.

Now when John heard in prison about the deeds of the Christ, he sent word by his disciples and said to Him, “Are You the one who is to come, or shall we look for another?” And Jesus answered them, “Go and tell John what you hear and see: the blind receive their sight and the lame walk, lepers are cleansed and the deaf hear, and the dead are raised up, and the poor have good news preached to them. And blessed is the one who is not offended by me.”

(Matthew 11:2-6 ESV)

See it? The thing that’s not quite like the other things? The thing that stands out?

So, what’s the thing? The poor have good news preached to them.

The blind see and the lame walk. Lepers are cleansed and the deaf hear. Even the dead, when they encounter Jesus, realize a great reversal as they are raised up. But the poor? What do the needy who are poor get when they get to Jesus? Money? Riches? A pre-loaded debit card? Nope. They get a sermon. They get the good news preached to them.

Chew on that for a bit. I am. For the second time in six months. (Did I mention that kind of pumps me?)

And it kind of hits me that being poor is the great equalizer for all those in Jesus’ healing line. In that day and culture, someone who was blind ended up being a beggar. So, after being touched by Jesus, they became a seeing beggar. Same for a leper who had been a leper for any length of time. Or someone deaf. Maybe the dead guy (or dead gal) raised to life had some local notoriety, but this was well before the ability to publish an “I Was Dead and Then Alive” memoir or cash in on daytime TV interviews. Guessing the dead guy (or dead gal) who came back ended up coming back to whatever socio-economic status they had before. I’m thinking that it’s possible that all of these, after the miracles they experienced, were now where the poor always were — ready to hear some good news preached to them.

After all, when it comes to the economics of eternity, poor is exactly where you want to be.

Listen, my beloved brothers, has not God chosen those who are poor in the world to be rich in faith and heirs of the kingdom, which He has promised to those who love Him?

(James 2:5)

Poor is where you want to be — where you need to be — when it comes to picking up what Jesus is laying down. ‘Cause having nothing is the perfect position to be in when it comes to being given everything. But we’re not talking worldly riches. Rather, we’re talking eternal riches, aka treasure in heaven (Matt. 19:21).

For you know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though He was rich, yet for your sake He became poor, so that you by His poverty might become rich.

(2Corinthians 8:9 ESV)

I said it six months ago (actually Jesus said it two thousand years ago, but I’m just jazzed that I can remember quoting Him six months ago), “Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God” (Luke 6:20).

Amen?

By His grace. For His glory.

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A Door of Faith

Posted on January 23, 2025 by Pete

It had been between 4 and 10 months since they left Antioch. Antioch, the place where the church submitted to the Spirit’s leading to “set apart for me Barnabas and Saul for the work to which I have called them” (Acts 13:1-2). They left in early or late spring, they returned in the fall.

And boy, did they have a story or two to tell concerning their missionary journey. Stories of the word proclaimed in synagogues and before governors (Acts 13:4-12). Of the word of God believed and belittled. Of encounters with demon-possessed magicians (Acts 13:10) and stone-throwing mobs (Acts 14:19). Of how the message of salvation had created division, with some becoming disciples of Jesus who were urged to continue in the grace of God (Acts 13:43), and of some, filled with jealousy, becoming detractors who thrust aside the gospel, judging themselves unworthy of eternal life (Acts 13:44-46).

But, as Luke meticulously records, while Paul and Barnabas relayed their tales of trial and triumph, they made sure that what was known was that whatever had been accomplished for the kingdom of God over the previous few months had not been their own doing.

They sailed to Antioch, where they had been commended to the grace of God for the work that they had fulfilled. And when they arrived and gathered the church together, they declared all that God had done with them, and how He had opened a door of faith to the Gentiles.

(Acts 14:26-27)

All that God had done . . . That’s what Paul & Co. talked about.

Sure, what had been done on their missionary journey had been with them, but what happened over the course of those months — the demons that were denounced, the bodies that were healed, the souls that were saved, the believers who were added — all that God had done. And all that could be summarized in a phrase that’s captured my thoughts this morning, He had opened a door of faith.

The preaching and proclaiming, the healing of the crippled and the hushing of the critical, the calling of disciples and the castigating of detractors, whether to Jew or to Gentile, it was all about opening a door. A door of faith.

A reminder this morning of how anyone, and how everyone, is saved. It’s by going through a door. A door opened not “of the will of the flesh or the will of man, but of God” (Jn. 1:13). A door of faith, “and this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast” (Eph. 2:8-9).

The door not only by which we were saved, but also the door by which we are being saved (1Cor. 15:1-2). Our sanctification not our work but His. Our desire to be disciples not stories of what we are doing, but of what God has done. Not tales exalting our efforts, but confessions of but walking through a door continually opened to us, a door of life-giving, life-sustaining faith.

For we walk by faith, not by sight.

(2Corinthians 5:7 ESV)

It’s time to go through that door again today. Amen?

Only by His grace. Only for His glory.

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The Joy of His Face

Posted on January 22, 2025 by Pete

Hovering over a verse in one of David’s songs, this morning. Tempo’s up beat. Lyrics are uplifting. It’s a song written when the going’s gone good, when the battle’s been won, when the enemies have been defeated. It’s a song of rejoicing.

But what grabs me is that David’s joy is not ultimately sourced in being given “his hearts desires” (v.2), nor is it that he’s been met with “rich blessings” (v.3) — though, I’m sure that doesn’t hurt. No, David’s gladness is not solely found in his circumstance but ultimately in God’s countenance.

For You [O LORD] make him most blessed forever;
       You make him glad with the joy of Your presence.
For the king trusts in the LORD,
       and through the steadfast love of the Most High he shall not be moved.

(Psalm 21:6-7 ESV)

The joy of Your presence . . . that’s the circumstance negating, season of life equalizing phrase I’m chewing on this morning. Literally, it’s joy by Your face.

How can joy not be known if it’s true that, for those who trust in Him, the LORD gives us His face and not His back? How can a sense of well-being not be well-experienced if we truly know that the sovereign God of creation is engaged and not indifferent? How can the things of earth not grow faintly dim in the light of His glory and grace, supplanted by the invasion of Almighty occupancy? Yes Lord, You make me glad with the joy of Your face!

His face seen through the revelation of the Scriptures. His face seen in knowing Jesus. His face illuminated through the inner agency of the Holy Spirit who works within us to experience 20/20 spiritual vision.

“Lift up the light of Your face upon us, O LORD!”      (Psalm 4:6 ESV)

Your face, Lord, show us Your face! In times of victory, in times of defeat. In seasons of elation, in seasons of sorrow. For then there will be gladness with joy.

O, to know always the joy of His face. To know the blessing God has for His people.

The LORD bless you and keep you;
the LORD make His face to shine upon you
       and be gracious to you;
the LORD lift up His countenance upon you
       and give you peace.

(Numbers 6:24-26 ESV)

By His grace. For His glory.

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A Question I Don’t Know the Answer To

Posted on January 21, 2025 by Pete

How come? How come Joseph never went back? How come, after he became second only to Pharaoh (aka no restrictions on his passport), Joseph didn’t pack up an entourage and head home to reconnect with dad and spill the beans on his brothers? How come?

That’s the question I’m noodling on this morning as I’m reading in Genesis 44 and 45. Truth is, I don’t know. But I’m wondering . . .

Wondering if it’s not because Joseph may have had some nagging doubts about dad’s potential involvement in his betrayal. After all, like his brothers, dad was a bit choked at Joseph’s dreams (Genesis 37:10). And it’s not like dad didn’t have some two-faced, scheming tendencies in his past — his bio was full of them. So, how come dad didn’t come looking for him? Did dad even care? Could it be that Joseph may have had some “daddy issues” as a result of the early trauma in his life? Is that why, when he could have gone home without fear, he never tried to go home? Like I said, I don’t know, but I’m wondering.

And what’s got me chewing on such things? It’s what I’m thinking may have been the thing which emotionally broke Joseph when his brothers are brought before him after Benjamin is found with a silver cup stolen from Joseph’s house. Up to this point, Joseph’s been pretty good at hiding his identity from his brothers as they are repeatedly humbled before him, fulfilling his dream of his brothers bowing before him. But then, the dam breaks, and we read that Joseph could not keep up the charade any longer.

Then Joseph could not control himself before all those who stood by him. He cried, “Make everyone go out from me.” So no one stayed with him when Joseph made himself known to his brothers. And he wept aloud, so that the Egyptians heard it, and the household of Pharaoh heard it. And Joseph said to his brothers, “I am Joseph! Is my father still alive?”

(Genesis 45:1-3a ESV)

Is it his concern for his father that breaks the camel’s back and compels Joseph to make himself known. If so — and if he in fact had been suspicious of his father’s part in all that had befallen him — then what turned the tide?

Here are the verses that particularly caught my attention this morning. Here’s what Joseph’s brother, Judah, revealed that I think may have broken Joseph as it put his father in a more accurate light.

“Our servant my father said to us, ‘You know that my wife bore me two sons. One left me, and I said, “Surely he has been torn to pieces,” and I have never seen him since. If you take this one also from me, and harm happens to him, you will bring down my gray hairs in evil to Sheol.'”

(Genesis 44:27-28 ESV)

Jacob never went searching for Joseph because Jacob thought Joseph was dead. Jacob had been fed a story, the story of a son who had been torn to pieces by some animal.

Joseph’s brothers knew that was the reason Jacob never went after Joseph. I know that too, ’cause I’ve read Genesis 37. And you know that as well, if you’ve ever heard the story. But did Joseph know that? After all, he was already Ishmaelite chattel by the time the brothers cooked up the torn-to-pieces coat scheme. So, when Joseph hears that Jacob didn’t come for him because Jacob thought Joseph was dead — that, in fact, Jacob so loved Joseph that the news of his “untimely demise” had crushed him for the past 20+ years — it breaks Joseph, and he weeps uncontrollably as he makes himself known to his brothers. Is that what went down? Maybe. But one more time, I don’t know.

But it does lead me to think of how, today, many might not pursue the Father because they’re not sure what the Father thinks of them. Of how many, because of circumstance in their lives, feel perhaps betrayed by the Father. Or, of the number who are like Joseph, not seeking the Father because they’re unsure as to whether the Father even cares or wants relationship with them. So, what’s gonna cause the narrative to be set straight? What will cause people to know the truth, be broken, and cry out, “Can I see my Father?” It’s the truth of the gospel.

The Spirit-illuminated truth that God so loved the world that He sent His one and only Son (John 3:16). The truth that while we were yet enemies, the Father sent His Son to provide a way home, a path of eternal redemption (Rom. 5:10). The truth that, though we were children deserving wrath, already dead in our sins, because of God’s great love for us mercy unimaginable was offered, ready to make us alive together with Christ (Eph. 2:1-6).

It’s believing that, far from God being against us, God is for us (Rom. 8:31-32) — so for us!

That’s what should break us. That’s what should cause us to seek His face and want to know His presence. That’s why our heavenly Father can be trusted.

All because of God’s unfathomable grace. All for God’s unsearchable glory.

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Day After Day

Posted on January 17, 2025 by Pete

We’ve gone analog at our church. At least for a few weeks.

What does that mean? Well, we’ve been asked to check our phones at the door (figuratively not literally) and bring our hardcopy bibles from which to read. We’ve left the projector in its case and have taken down the screen and are being asked to sing from a sheet in our bulletin — a physical, tactile, hold it in your hand mini-hymnal. And we’ve been asked to think about how the digital world might be impacting our spiritual world outside of Sunday morning. What’s it doing to being present with God? How about present with others? How is having our devices with us 24/7, which are vying constantly for attention, impacting our abiding? Considering our modern habits, we’re being asked to think about what we’re becoming. Hmm . . .

This morning, as I read the familiar story of Joseph in Potiphar’s house, a connection is made with what we’re being asked to think about on Sundays. After all, when we’re talking about habits, we’re talking about what happens day after day.

     Now Joseph was handsome in form and appearance. And after a time his master’s wife cast her eyes on Joseph and said, “Lie with me.” But he refused and said to his master’s wife, “Behold, because of me my master has no concern about anything in the house, and he has put everything that he has in my charge. . . . How then can I do this great wickedness and sin against God?” And as she spoke to Joseph day after day, he would not listen to her, to lie beside her or to be with her.

     But one day, when he went into the house to do his work and none of the men of the house was there in the house, she caught him by his garment, saying, “Lie with me.” But he left his garment in her hand and fled and got out of the house.

(Genesis 39:6b-12 ESV)

Day after day . . . that’s the phrase that caught my attention. Those are the words that have me chewing on their implications.

Day after day, Joseph went to work. Day after day, he did what he did every day, he looked after all the people and operations associated with the house of his master, Potiphar, the captain of the guard. And, at some point, day after day Potiphar’s wife started tempting him, “Lie with me.” Get in bed with me. Become more intimate with me.

Day after day, she sent notifications. Day after day, she offered up enticing reels and pictures of what could be. Day after day she beckoned, drop what you’re doing and have a quick look at my latest post, my latest tweet, my latest video. It became routine. It became habitual. Day after day, Joseph got up, went to work, and she spoke to him. And, day after day, he would not listen to her.

But one day . . .

She grabbed him in a way she had not done before. Took hold of him as he’d never expected her to do before. Scared him as he had not been scared before as she drew him face-to-face. And what did Joseph do on that one day? He decided to cut and run . . . literally. He left his garment in her hands and fled the house. He knew he had to break the cycle of what was happening day after day.

Not many of us have a Potiphar’s wife so brazenly beckoning us to embrace her and sin against God. But most of us are daily within earshot of a siren’s voice, a voice which can be like that of the mythological woman whose singing lured unaware sailors to crash their ships on the rocks. The voice of our phones. Really helpful most of the time. Potentially dangerous some of the time. At the very least, tempting us too often to distraction. At her worst, tempting us to engage in things we know we shouldn’t be engaged with. More often than not, however, she’s simply habit forming as she calls out, “Lie with me” so that her handlers can monetize one of our most valuable resources, our attention.

Most days, we might be successful in refusing her day after day advances. But one day . . . One day, we may need to realize that she’s crossed the line, and that we need to take some decisive action — perhaps even flee.

A quote from our Sunday morning series stuck (I think it’s from a book by James K.A. Smith): Our habits shape what we love; What we love shapes what we worship; What we worship, over time, eventually shapes what we become.

Yeah, like Joseph, I need to be aware of, stand fast against, and maybe at some point even run from what’s going on day after day.

Only by God’s grace. Wanting to live for God’s glory.

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The Break Through Kid

Posted on January 16, 2025 by Pete

Don’t know why (yeah, I kinda’ do, thinking it’s a Spirit thing), but I find myself hovering over a “breakthrough baby” this morning. “Breakthrough” because he literally “broke out.”

When the time of her labor came, there were twins in her womb. And when she was in labor, one put out a hand, and the midwife took and tied a scarlet thread on his hand, saying, “This one came out first.” But as he drew back his hand, behold, his brother came out. And she said, “What a breach you have made for yourself!” Therefore his name was called Perez. Afterward his brother came out with the scarlet thread on his hand, and his name was called Zerah.

(Genesis 38:27-30 ESV)

Mom’s name was Tamar. Mom was likely a Canaanite. And mom’s story fits in well with the relational weirdness that had come to characterize Jacob & Co.

Tamar marries Er, the firstborn of Judah who was the fourth son born to Jacob. Er is a wicked man and the Lord puts him to death — Tamar is now a young widow. According to ancient custom, she’s then given to Judah’s next eldest son, Onan, so that he might “perform the duty of a brother-in-law” and “raise up offspring” for his deceased brother. But Onan’s just as wicked as Er and Tamar’s widowed again. While Judah should have arranged for her to marry the next son in line, he indefinitely procrastinates. After all, Tamar’s developed a bit of a “black widow” reputation and Judah fears that if son #3 gets involved with her, Jacob won’t have a son #3.

So now, Tamar is twice widowed, ultra-marginalized, and without children. But Tamar is not to be denied.

Years later, “in the course of time”, her father-in-law finds himself a widower. And knowing her father-in-law, she disguises herself as a prostitute, plays upon his manly lusts, and ends up becoming pregnant by him. So, she secures for herself what she was owed by the line of Judah — and more. She conceives not just one child, but two. (Twins, oh, that sounds familiar). And the one that should have been the younger, ends up with the rights and privileges of the older (hmm, sounds familiar again . . . a pattern perhaps?). And the younger who ends up coming out as the older is named Perez, the one I’m thinking of as the “break through baby”, because, as observed by the midwife at birth, “What a breach you have made for yourself.”

What a breach . . .

Perez had “broken out”. Though he should have been second in line, he “budged” and ended up at the front of the line. Though naturally speaking, he should have been “the lesser”, somehow he came out the greater. Though conceived through deceitfulness, lustfulness, and shamelessness, this half-Canaanite would end up as an important link in the chain that would bring to the earth the Messiah, the blessing promised to Abraham (Mt. 1:3, Lk. 3:33).

And I’m kind of identifying with this break through kid this morning. As a Gentile, I too was kind of second in line. After all, the covenant was made with Abraham and his kin, with the Jew. They were the first to be called forth as His people. Yet somehow, my tribe (which is no tribe at all) broke out. And those of us who were once a distant second (so distant we were lost and without hope in the world) have been brought near (Eph. 2:12-13). Though the ancient Jews may have been marked with a scarlet thread, a different people, for the most part, ended up with the blue ribbon. How come?

What shall we say, then? That Gentiles who did not pursue righteousness have attained it, that is, a righteousness that is by faith; but that Israel who pursued a law that would lead to righteousness did not succeed in reaching that law. Why? Because they did not pursue it by faith, but as if it were based on works.

(Romans 9:30-32 ESV)

Faith. That’s what makes a break through kid. “And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast.” (Eph. 2:8b-9).

Despite a messed-up family, carrying more baggage into life than a little kid should have to carry, Perez made quite the breach. So too, this sinner sitting in this chair. Another break through kid.

Only by God’s grace. Only for God’s glory.

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