Appropriate Worship

Posted on June 25, 2015 by Pete

Juxtaposition. I am no English major, but that’s what I think the literary device being used in Luke 7 is . . . juxtaposition. One person is placed up against another for the purpose of comparison and contrast. One set of actions are detailed against another set of actions in order to highlight their significance. In this morning’s reading, one response to Jesus is placed beside another in order to provide a mirror into the hearts of those forgiven. Let the “juxtaposition-ing” begin . . .

Then turning toward the woman [Jesus] said to Simon, “Do you see this woman? I entered your house; you gave me no water for My feet, but she has wet My feet with her tears and wiped them with her hair. You gave Me no kiss, but from the time I came in she has not ceased to kiss My feet. You did not anoint My head with oil, but she has anointed My feet with ointment. Therefore I tell you, her sins, which are many, are forgiven–for she loved much. But he who is forgiven little, loves little.”    (Luke 7:44-47 ESV)

Feeling a bit corrected this morning. In the past, reading of this sinner woman who crashed the Pharisee’s dinner in order to pour out an alabaster flask of ointment on Jesus feet has always seemed like an act of “extravagant worship.” But this morning, it seems to me Jesus is saying, “No. This isn’t extravagant worship. It is appropriate worship.” Appropriate, at least, for those who have been forgiven much.

Two people are placed side by side. What they have in common is a desire to be with Jesus. But that’s where the common ends and the contrasts begin.

One is a religious leader curious about Jesus . . . ready to evaluate Jesus. The other is a sinner woman in need of Jesus . . . ready to believe in Him. Simon condescendingly allows Jesus in his home . . . not even humbling himself enough to show Jesus the customary courtesies of eastern hospitality. The woman–that’s how she’s known, no name, just, the woman–openly desires Jesus in her life . . . happy to just be at His feet. Simon’s actions, or lack thereof, are a reflection of his perceived self-righteousness and his lack of need of a Savior. The woman’s actions, once thought to be “over the top” but now seeming to be just the right thing to do, are a portal to her heart demonstrating her self-awareness, her contrition, and her need of rescue. Simon, through his behavior, says, “I don’t need You.” The woman’s, “Oh how I need You, Lord!”

Simon really didn’t believe he had much to be forgiven for. The woman had no doubt as to how bankrupt she was because of her sin. Simon’s “worship” was understated because he didn’t get it. The woman’s worship was appropriate, not “extravagant”, because she did. Simon loved little. The woman loved much.

When’s the last time I wept at the feet of Jesus? The last time I remembered, and appreciated my redemption from the bondage of my sin to such a degree that I wanted nothing but to pour out all I had in thanksgiving and praise? The last time I loved much?

Seems there’s a caution here for the believer. We can become so used to the robe of righteousness He has freely given us to wear, that we think it’s our own. We can become so used to sitting with Him in heavenly places that we think we’ve earned the seat. We can become so accustomed to “walking the talk” that we think the scales have tipped in our favor because of what we’re doing. We can become Simon. Inviting Jesus to the table . . . but seeing little need to sit and worship at His feet.

Or, in humility we can, identifying with Paul “that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners, of whom I am chief” (1Tim. 1:15 NKJV), be like the woman. Desiring but the feet of Jesus . . . only the edge of His garment . . . if we might be in His presence. Seeking to honor and exalt Him with the outpouring of authentic, priceless praise birthed from truly thankful hearts. Our tears anointing the blessed Lamb of God who “loved me and gave Himself for me” (Gal. 2:20).

Not extravagant worship . . . but appropriate worship.

Forgiven much . . . and so, loving much. All because of grace. All for God’s glory.

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We Dance

Posted on June 24, 2015 by Pete

If they were kids, says Jesus, they’d be that group of kids that just couldn’t play well with others. No matter the game, if it wasn’t their idea they’d just take their ball and go home. Unless they were “first captain second pick,” or “second captain first pick,” they weren’t prepared to be on a team. And though they didn’t really know what they wanted, they knew what they didn’t want when they saw it. No pleasing them, says Jesus.

“To what then shall I compare the people of this generation, and what are they like? They are like children sitting in the marketplace and calling to one another, ‘We played the flute for you, and you did not dance; we sang a dirge, and you did not weep.’ For John the Baptist has come eating no bread and drinking no wine, and you say, ‘He has a demon.’ The Son of Man has come eating and drinking, and you say, ‘Look at Him! A glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners!’ Yet wisdom is justified by all her children.”   ~ Jesus     (Luke 7:31-35 ESV)

John the Baptist comes to the barrenness of the desert, living in extreme austerity, calling people to repentance for sin, and the religious leaders avoid dealing with his message by labeling him a nut. Demon possessed, they say, he’s out of his mind.

Jesus comes to the feasting tables of those He created, living as men lived, calling people to the kingdom of God, and the religious leaders dismiss His message because of the company He keeps. Only a sinner hangs out with sinners, they declare, he’s out of our league.

No pleasing them, says Jesus. No reaching them, warns the Savior. Pick up the flute and pretend you’re at a wedding, they don’t want to dance. Wail out a lament, and have a pretend funeral, they won’t cry. Doesn’t matter the song, they won’t sing.

But the kids who embrace the pretend wedding, hear the band strike up and will “bop-boppity-bop” . . . and the kids who can put on the sad face when they hear the minor key and play along with the funeral game . . . those kids are the children of God. They are those, who by heaven’s grace, have come to know heaven’s melody and heaven’s lyric.

The religious leaders of the day, like so many of our day, wanted to pick and choose what righteousness should look like . . . how the message of God should be delivered . . . what the Messiah should look like and how He should act. And they never found it. It wasn’t this . . . and it wasn’t that . . . and they never found out what it was.

But for those whose eyes have seen Wisdom, . . . who have, by the Spirit’s illuminating and regenerating power, recognized Jesus as the Shepherd come for His sheep . . . who have humbled themselves, recognizing their sin and their need . . . and who have, by grace, believed Jesus came to save sinners . . . who have heard the song of heaven and embraced it’s tune . . . for those, there is a peace and a quiet confidence knowing that they’ve found it. Or rather, that it has found them.

No longer dissatisfied with this or discontent with that, submitting to Christ there is a stability. While the pretend songs of earth can only lead to dissatisfaction of soul, the new song of heaven envelopes the soul and brings rest and contentment.

And Wisdom, God’s beloved Son, is acknowledged by His children as the Righteous One . . . and what’s more, as the source of righteousness for all who believe.

And when He plays the flute, we dance.

Dance by His grace . . . Dance for His glory.

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A Divine Visitation

Posted on June 23, 2015 by Pete

If there’s any place I think someone wants to be inconspicuous at, it’s at a funeral. Beyond the focus placed on the loved one lost, the attention then belongs to the grieving ones left behind. But I remember once stepping out of the shadows of the group of mourners. Though it was brief, it was embarrassing. We had all just left our cars and were walking toward the graveside. And then it happened . . . the horn on our van started going off. The side door hadn’t been fully closed and when I pressed the lock button on my key fob, the van decided to alert me that it was not as secure as it needed to be. Fortunately, I was able to silence the horn fairly quickly. But not before it interrupted the solemn walk of those preparing to say their final good-byes. Note to self . . . in the future, avoid interrupting funeral processions.

This morning I was reading of another funeral were the focus was diverted. But this was no accidental interruption . . . it was a divine visitation.

Soon afterward [Jesus] went to a town called Nain, and His disciples and a great crowd went with Him. As He drew near to the gate of the town, behold, a man who had died was being carried out, the only son of his mother, and she was a widow, and a considerable crowd from the town was with her. And when the Lord saw her, He had compassion on her and said to her, “Do not weep.” Then He came up and touched the bier, and the bearers stood still. And He said, “Young man, I say to you, arise.” And the dead man sat up and began to speak, and Jesus gave Him to His mother. Fear seized them all, and they glorified God, saying, “A great prophet has arisen among us!” and “God has visited His people!”    (Luke 7:11-16 ESV)

What would it have been to be part of that “considerable crowd” accompanying the widow, as she prepared to bury her only son, when Someone emerges from the crowd and says, “Stop?” Unknown to any of the mourners, whose heads and eyes were lowered in solemn anticipation of a final good-bye, was that heaven’s eyes were also lowered, but in anticipation of an unexpected reunion. The crowd looked at the lifeless body on the bier and mourned. Jesus looked upon the grieving mother and had compassion. And then says to her, “Do not weep.” And then says to the dead man, “Arise.” And Jesus gave him to his mother.

Talk about a change in plans. Put away the eulogy for another day. Save those final words of fond remembrance for such a fine young man. Instead they glorify the God who has power to raise the dead.

They sang His praise. They marvelled at His power. Though they didn’t fully comprehend who Jesus was, they knew that through Him “God had visited His people!”

And I pause and whisper, “Yes! . . . Yes He does.”

People dead in trespass and sin, raised in newness of life. Funeral processions interrupted by resurrection. Mourning replaced with dancing. Weeping supplanted by wonder. Because God has visited His people.

The Creator entered creation. He who “is the radiance of the glory of God and the exact imprint of His nature” emptied Himself and took upon Himself flesh and blood so that He might walk among those for whom He would die. Die so that, through His death, they would know life . . . real life . . . life to the full.

How complacent can we become concerning such divine visitation? How familiar is it that our LORD is the great interrupter of funerals? Just look around at the people we gather with Sunday after Sunday . . . each one, at one time, a dead man . . . a dead woman. At one time lifeless . . . carried through life with no hope but the grave. But all now raised in glorious life . . . their funerals forever interrupted. All because of heaven’s great compassion. All because of the Father’s unfailing love. All because of the Son’s once for all sacrifice. All because of the Spirit’s life giving power.

All for the glory of God . . . forever praised for His divine visitation!

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Royal Grace

Posted on June 22, 2015 by Pete

Finished up 2Kings this morning. Kind of sad when you pause and reflect how what had started out so well with the promises of God, ended up so bleakly with the prisons of Assyria and Babylon. Talk about your roller coaster ride. From the thrill of deliverance from Egyptian bondage, to the desert wanderings of those who refused to enter the promised land. From the momentum established by Joshua’s generation who took the land, to the utter failure of the next generation who, while enjoying the land, rejected the ways of the land Giver and did what was right in their own eyes. Neither the judges raised up by God, nor the king demanded by the people, was enough to deliver a people whose hearts were set on pursuing gods other than their God.

The heights of David’s determination to set apart a city for God, so that he might build a house where God’s presence could be found, surpassed only by God’s promise to build a house and a line for David which would last for eternity, eventually results in a city destroyed and a descendant of David in a foreign prison. The crescendo of Solomon’s dedication of the temple, evidenced by the descending glory of God upon it, is eclipsed by the glory departing, the temple razed, and it’s treasure pillaged.

A once unified kingdom, divided. The northern kingdom hell-bent, literally, to replace their God with idols of gold. The southern kingdom determined to choke out their love for the one true God with their lust for the gods, which are no gods, of other nations. And so God writes His people a certificate of divorce, giving them up to the bondage of the nations of the gods they desired.

Heavy sigh!

But, as is so often the case, as you read the final four verses of 2Kings you see a ray of sunlight . . . a glimmer of hope . . . an indication that the story is not yet done. In these verses you are hit by royal grace.

And in the thirty-seventh year of the exile of Jehoiachin king of Judah, . . . Evil-merodach king of Babylon, in the year that he began to reign, graciously freed Jehoiachin king of Judah from prison. And he spoke kindly to him and gave him a seat above the seats of the kings who were with him in Babylon. So Jehoiachin put off his prison garments. And every day of his life he dined regularly at the kings table, and for his allowance, a regular allowance was given him by the king, according to his daily needs, as long as he lived.    (2Kings 25:27-30 ESV)

Jehoiachin was a kid king — only eighteen when he took the throne. He did what was evil in the sight of the LORD, just as he had seen modeled in those before him. But what he did do right was listen to the voice of the prophets and submitted himself to God’s instrument of judgment upon the wayward southern kingdom. He gave himself up to the king of Babylon (2Kings 24:8-12). And though he remained in a Babylonian prison for 36 years, he remained as the hope for the promised line of David. Not because of who he was, or what he had done, but because of royal grace.

Jehoiachin is “graciously freed” . . . a much better translation than others that say simply, he was “released” from prison.  Literally, “his head was lifted up” as he was released from his house of restraint. He was given a seat above other seats. His prison garments were put off and he was given new garments to wear. All the days of his life he ate at the king’s table. And every day his needs were met through a “regular allowance” from the kings storehouses of riches.

That’s royal grace. Sound familiar?

I once was imprisoned through my desire for the things of this world and the gods it manufactures. But the King of heaven and earth, through a sovereign act of grace, determined to free me. Released from the bondage of sin, I was not just set free, but was given a seat — raised up with Him and seated with Him in the heavenly places “in Christ Jesus, so that in the coming ages He might show the immeasurable riches of His grace in kindness toward us in Christ Jesus” (Eph. 2:6-7). My prison garments put off, His robe of righteousness put on. Every day of my life I’m welcomed to abide with Him at His table. Each day an allowance of all sufficient grace is liberally apportioned to me. Every day being a reminder of His royal grace.

O’ that the King of glory would look with such favor upon those in a prison of their own making as they seek other gods. What grace! What deliverance! What a Savior!

To Him be all glory.

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Help These Women

Posted on June 19, 2015 by Pete

This week I was talking to my daughter and she came across a short poem that she remembered hearing as a little girl:

To live above,
with saints we love,
O’ won’t that be glory.
But to live below,
with saints we know . . .
now, that’s another story!

It came to mind again as I was reading in Philippians 4 this morning.

What had come between the two ladies isn’t known. Obviously the Spirit didn’t consider it pertinent. But what was considered important, and was God-breathed for our instruction, is that whatever it was that caused disagreement between these two servants of Christ, it needed to be dealt with. And so Paul exhorts his most faithful co-worker to “help these women.”

I entreat Euodia and I entreat Syntyche to agree in the Lord. Yes, I ask you also, true companion, help these women, who have labored side by side with me in the gospel together with Clement and the rest of my fellow workers, whose names are in the book of life.    (Philippians 4:2-3 ESV)’

You sense these ladies were pillars within the fellowship. They had worked closely together with Paul “in the gospel.” These women, whose names were in the book of life, were active in the things of the kingdom. I gather they were women of reputation . . . women of influence. And yet, for some reason, they were women at odds with one another.

Seems like, whether 1st century or 21st century, people are still people. And even “fellow workers in the gospel” can rub one another the wrong way, or have a different view on some matter. Who hasn’t encountered in their own church fellowship a Euodia/Syntche dynamic? And I’m not just talking about a tension between two ladies. In fact, my experience, more often than not, has been that of the egos of two men coming into sharp conflict . . . often over legitimate areas of disagreement, yet creating a tension which is palpable within the fellowship. And of such Paul would say, Help these men.

So this morning I’m thinking less about the exhortation to the two ladies to “agree in the Lord” and more about the need for godly brothers and sisters to care enough, and with courage enough, to draw alongside of family combatants and “help these women.”

Be eager to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace. So writes Paul to the Ephesians (4:3). Exert one’s self for harmony’s sake. Pursue unity with urgency and priority. But how often do we see the “relational difficulties” between two people in our fellowship and just do nothing. Knowing there’s tension, we will let it fester. And fester it does. I’m thinking that, save for arrogance within a fellowship, there is no leaven that spreads quicker than division and disunity. Factions are a church-killer . . . or at least a church-maimer as, eventually, body parts and whole body sections are cut off or just walk out the door.

What ever was going on with Euodia and Syntyche, was considered a big deal by Paul. And I’m guessing it was less about the issue, and even not so much about their relationship, but a concern for the health of the fellowship as a whole and the impact it would have on their witness for the gospel.

By this all people will know that you are My disciples, if you have love for one another.     ~ Jesus     (John 13:35 ESV)

Church unity. Kind of a big deal, I’m thinking. Was to Paul. Is to our Savior, the Head of the church. Should be to us, as well.

That by God’s grace we would live in harmony with our brothers and sisters. And that, when harmony is disrupted, by that same grace we would have the courage and the compassion to help these women . . . and to help these men.

Because of grace . . . and for His glory.

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Seek Your Servant

Posted on June 18, 2015 by Pete

You’d think that after 175 verses of extolling the Word of God . . . after 22 stanzas singing of the dynamics associated with the promises, precepts, and testimonies of the LORD . . . that after all that, there’d be some crescendo of triumphant praise as the psalmist concludes his song. Instead, he concludes it with a simple plea, “Seek Your servant.”

I have gone astray like a lost sheep; seek Your servant,
for I do not forget Your commandments.      (Psalm 119:176 ESV)

That’s it. That’s the end of the psalm. That’s the last thing that echoes in the ears of the reader who has experienced this marathon poem concerning the law of the LORD. Even though I love Your word, says the psalmist, even though You have opened my eyes to see wondrous things in Your law . . . even though I have hid Your word in my heart, . . . though I have pleaded that You would enlarge my heart that I might run in Your ways . . . though Your word has been a lamp to my feet, and a light to my path . . . though it has been my salvation and has been the rock upon which I trust . . . despite all that, confesses the songwriter, I have gone astray.

Given all that advantage, how does that happen? I know . . . ask me.

. . . .   Prone to wander, Lord I feel it, prone to leave the God I love.

Been there . . . done that . . . got the t-shirt.

And sheep who have gone astray can’t just pull themselves up by their own boot straps and get on with righteousness again. It’s not like the lost can make themselves found. Instead the lost have one flare to fire up . . . Seek Your servant.

Though I love Your word in my spirit, yet the flesh is weak. Seek Your servant. Though I know the way in which to walk, I’ve been tripped up in a fault. Seek Your servant. Though I long for the light of the Son, my soul is downcast and overshadowed with gloom. Seek Your servant.

Are there three sweeter words for the pilgrim who has been worn down by the rugged trail and decided to try a shortcut? Three sweeter words for the servant who has been overcome with a burden and decided to turn a deaf ear to his masters voice? Three sweeter words for the one who wakes up one morning only to realize that they are not where they should be? I’m thinking not. No sweeter words than “Seek Your servant.”

Mine is a Shepherd who leaves the ninety-nine and goes in search of the one that’s drifted away. And when He finds the sheep–and He will find the sheep–rather than scold the sheep or punish the sheep, He “rejoices over it more than over the ninety-nine that never went astray” (Matt. 18:12-13). Mine is the the faithful High Priest who, having become flesh Himself, is able to “sympathize with our weaknesses” and leads us back to the throne of grace where we might “receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need” (Heb. 4:15-16). Mine is an ever interceding Advocate for those who sin, having Himself been the once-for-all atoning sacrifice for my sin past, present, and future (1John 2:1-2).

And mine is to avail myself of His overflowing river of grace and cry out, “Seek Your servant.”

If there’s nothing else I get from 176 verses of tribute to the word of God, and to the God of the Word, to be reminded of this is enough. That the LORD is my Shepherd and He hears my cry when I have gone astray.

Seek Your servant. Seek by Your grace . . . Seek for Your glory.

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His Own

Posted on June 17, 2015 by Pete

The people of God are referred to in many ways in the Scriptures. We are saints, and we are His disciples. We are sheep, and we comprise His body. We are family, and we are also His bride. And this morning, reading in Philippians, I’m reminded we are also “His own.”

Not that I have already obtained this or am already perfect, but I press on to make it my own, because Christ Jesus has made me His own.    (Philippians 3:12 ESV)

Paul did what He did, not to merit favor but in response to grace. He did not consider himself as having arrived, but instead pressed on to achieve the prize. He ran the race not that men might look at him and praise him, but because he looked to Christ and sought Christ’s glory alone. And He did this, because Christ Jesus had made Paul His own.

Other translations say that Paul was “laid hold of” by Christ. I like the sound of the old King James where it’s translated that Paul followed hard after Christ so “that I may apprehend that for which also I am apprehended of Christ Jesus.”

Apprehended by Christ Jesus. Seized upon by the promised Messiah. Taken possession of by the King of heaven. That’s the state of every believer before ever having a thought of taking hold of Him.

The people of God are His own. That’s just who we are. Not that we deserved it, or earned it, or could ever, on our own, claim it as ours. But it’s just who we are because of what God has determined and because of what Christ has done.

We have been bought with a price, and we are not our own (1Cor 6:19). He gave Himself to redeem us and “to purify for Himself a people for His own possession” (Titus 2:14). He sought us when we were lost. He loved us when we were at war with Him. He gave all when we had nothing to give in return. And all that He might seize us to Himself. All that He might apprehend us to be a people for His sole possession. All that we might be called His own.

His own. No boasting in wearing the banner, for He claimed me long before I knew Him. No self-righteousness in taking the title, for I am only His because of the righteousness credited to my account on His behalf. No sitting back thinking that now that I am His I have somehow reached the finish line, but instead, like Paul, pressing on toward the prize that I might, through the Spirit indwelling me, make it my own. Counting all things loss and leaving all things behind for the “surpassing worth of knowing” Him who has made me His own.

His own. That’s me. Such are the people of God. O blessed thought.

By grace alone . . . for His glory alone

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We Are The Circumcision

Posted on June 16, 2015 by Pete

Paul calls them dogs. He labels them evil doers. You’ll know them, he says, because they are those who mutilate the flesh. And to the believers at Philippi he says, “Look out for them.” They won’t come with snarling teeth or wearing a black cape. They won’t call it mutilation but initiation. Do this and you’re in. Do that and you’ll be worthy. Do the other thing and God will then accept you. And then, they say, you can count yourself among the circumcision. You’ll be those who have shown in the flesh what real devotion to God entails. But Paul says, beware of the them. In fact, says the apostle, we are the circumcision.

Look out for the dogs, look out for the evildoers, look out for those who mutilate the flesh. For we are the real circumcision, who worship by the Spirit of God and glory in Christ Jesus and put no confidence in the flesh . . .     (Philippians 3:2-3 ESV)

In the dark corner, clothed in their own best efforts, are those who claim that righteousness before God is on the basis of, well, righteousness before God — circumcision being one such act. In that corner there’s a ladder to climb, a list to keep, acts to be demonstrated in order to merit the banner of God’s people.

In the light corner, wearing a robe provided by Another, are those whose righteousness is by faith in the finished work of the cross. Those who know they can’t climb high enough, nor keep His commands well enough, nor demonstrate consistently enough anything which merits God having to let them into the kingdom.

Instead their only claim is that they worship solely by the Spirit of God . . . they glory only in the Son of God . . . and they put no confidence in their flesh which, unless it is regenerated by an act of grace, is wired to rebel in the face of God. And such are the circumcision.

The flesh cut off not at the hands of men but by the redeeming work of Christ. Worship no longer defined as external acts of piety, but now experienced as an internally sourced, Spirit ignited, response to heaven’s abounding favor. Boasting no longer in what I think I can do, but solely in what I know Christ Jesus has done.

More than just something being cut away, which is all the law was able to do, the true circumcision brings with it freedom, abundant life, and overflowing joy. No longer a sign of the flesh it is the evidence of the Spirit. Worship is no longer manufactured by trying to go through the motions, but instead exudes from the pours of those have known the sweet fellowship of abiding in the Vine. No longer worried about what we’ve done, no longer focused on building our spiritual resume, instead we glory in what Christ has done and the spiritual legacy He is building in His bride.

No confidence in the flesh. No confidence that I could have ever plucked myself out of the miry pit of sin. No confidence that I can now get my act together, and keep it together, in order to be a “good Christian.” No confidence that, because I lived a pious life, Jesus will one day find me a room in His house. No confidence in the flesh.

Instead, all confidence is in the Lamb of God, come to take away the sin of the world. All confidence is in the power of Jesus to save and to save to the full. All confidence is in the love of God shed abroad through the Spirit in the hearts of all who believe the good news of God’s wondrous salvation. All confidence is in His sure return to take His people to be with Himself. That’s our confidence. That’s our circumcision.

All because of grace. All for His glory.

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A Current Truth

Posted on June 15, 2015 by Pete

It wasn’t that they deserved it. Nor that they were going to get their act together and, perhaps, some day deserve it. But it was because of another . . . and the promise made to him . . . that favor was shown to a wayward people. That’s just how my God does things. And this morning, in an ancient record, I encountered a blessed reminder of a current truth.

Now Hazael king of Syria oppressed Israel all the days of Jehoahaz. But the LORD was gracious to them and had compassion on them, and He turned toward them, because of His covenant with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, and would not destroy them, nor has He cast them from His presence until now.    (2Kings 13:22-23 ESV)

Even at the northern kingdom’s best — after Jehu had ridded the land of all of Ahab’s and Jezebel’s descendants and cohorts, and had completely destroyed all vestiges of Baal worship (2Kings 10) — they were still unable to rise above the burden of sin fastened to them by their first king, Jeroboam. Even though king Jehu “wiped out Baal from Israel,” he did not turn aside from the sins woven into the fabric of the northern kingdom when it was formed — “that is, the golden calves that were in Bethel and in Dan” (10:28-29). As such, the king continued to personify the character of the nation and “was not careful to walk in the law of the LORD, the God of Israel, with all his heart” (10:31).

But the LORD was gracious to them. The great God, whose name they attached to cows fashioned of gold by man’s hand, had compassion on them. The Creator, from whom they had turned away to worship elements of His creation, turned toward them. And all because He had made a promise to Abraham . . . and to his son, Isaac . . . and to his son, Jacob. And though His holy nature would demand that the nation would reap of the seeds of sin they had sown . . . though the correction required to rid a rebellious nation of it’s rebellious nature would be severe . . . He would not destroy, nor would He cast them from His presence.

And while it’s an ancient story concerning an ancient people, the God of that time and place is the same God of this time and place. And I’m moved to worship by this current truth — that God graciously, compassionately, intentionally, and persistently turns His face toward His people, even when they stray, because of a promise made to Another.

He has promised a bride to His Son. A betrothed comprised of sinners saved by grace. Those once held captive by the god of this age, set free from Baal worship through the finished work of the cross. Those once dead in trespasses and sins awakened to new life by the power that raised Christ from the dead. Those once lost and without any eternal identity, found and made into “a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for His own possession” (1Peter 2:9). Saved through promise . . . sanctified through promise . . . one day to be presented before her Bridegroom “in splendor, without spot or wrinkle or any such thing, that she might be holy and without blemish” (Eph. 5:27) through promise.

And along the way, we have an enemy who seeks to trip us up. We battle an old nature which tempts us to serve our flesh as god. We wrestle with forces from another world who would talk us captive into darkness. And when we trip up . . . when serve the flesh . . . when we play with darkness, because of God’s promise to Another, He looks upon us with grace . . . calling us back to Himself through His Spirit. He deals with us according to divine compassion, because He knows our frame and the battle that wages within and without. And He turns toward us, drawing our faces back toward His . . . He loves us, that we might love Him . . . He fans the fire that we might burn for Him.

Thank God for this current truth.

All because of grace . . . all for God’s glory.

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Where Are the Tears?

Posted on June 12, 2015 by Pete

Ok . . . so this makes me really uncomfortable. The Word of God can do that to you. Honestly, I prefer things jumping off the page that I think I understand . . . or think I have a handle on and are reflected in my walk. That’s the “living and active” dynamic of the word of God that I like (Heb. 4:12). It’s kind of easier when the Word actively affirms the truth you are already following. But then you come across something in God’s word that reminds you of the rest of that dynamic . . . the part that is like a sharp two-edged sword which pierces “to the division of soul and of spirit, of joints and of marrow, and discerning the thoughts and intentions of the heart.” Ouch! That can hurt. But that’s kind of where I am this morning as I ask myself the question, “Where are the tears?”

My eyes shed streams of tears, because people do not keep Your law.
 (Psalm 119:136 ESV)

That our world is increasingly hell-bent on being hell-bound seems evident. Wrong is more and more being declared to be right. That which was once the God of heaven’s to define has now become the purview of the courts of men. That which has been, since creation, recognized as unnatural is now being redefined as natural. That which was once God’s to create is now being surgically recreated by man. And this on top of the increasing idolatry of self. This on top of the darkness which is declared to be “progress” in our society. All because the heart of unregenerate man “is deceitful above all things, and desperately sick,” to a depth beyond anyone’s grasp to fully know it (Jer. 17:9).

And the response of a “hopelessly dark and deceitful” (MSG) heart towards the word of God is to reject it. And that, so says this line in the song I’m reading this morning, should so move me that my eyes shed streams of tears.

While I might be amazed at the arrogance and folly of men to declare themselves to be the arbiter of that which is God’s alone to determine . . . while I might be frustrated at the moral blindness enveloping our culture . . . while I might rise up indignant at the slander of my God’s name . . . while I might hate the sin, while loving the sinner . . . how often do I shed tears because people do not keep His law?

Shed tears because the word of God is despised. Shed tears because the name of the God of the word is blasphemed. Shed tears because the good news is drowned out by the nightly news. Shed tears out of compassion and concern for those whose minds have been blinded by the god of this age (2Cor. 4:4).

Streams of tears flowing because men and women refuse to submit to their Creator. Rivers gushing because those captive to sin have yet to see, or have out-and-out rejected, the rescue and redemption offered them through God’s love declared by sending His Son to bear the guilt and penalty for our transgression.

Where are the tears? The sorrow for the sins of others?

Would that I had more the heart of Christ who, as He drew near to Jerusalem, wept over it (Luke 19:41). That I was more like Paul, knowing “great sorrow and unceasing anguish” for his “kinsmen according to the flesh” — even willing to exchange himself for their souls if he could (Rom. 9:2-3).

Where are the tears? There should be more tears.

So work in my heart, sanctifying Spirit. That I might know more the compassion of Christ . . . for the glory of God.

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