No Pressure!

I don’t know how many times I’ve read these words. Don’t know how many times I’ve heard someone else read these words and then preach on them. But for some reason, this morning they hit with a particular weightiness.

You are the salt of the earth, but if salt has lost its taste, how shall its saltiness be restored? It is no longer good for anything except to be thrown out and trampled under people’s feet.” ~ Jesus

(Matthew 5:13 ESV)

You are the salt of the earth . . .

Me? Yeah, you.

Salt? As in providing the savor of heaven, stemming the decay of sin, and promoting a thirst for righteousness? Yup.

Of the earth? Yes sir, at least the piece of it God has given you to occupy and to have influence within.

Really? Uh huh, really!

Whew! No pressure!

If ever the world in which I live needed salt, it’s now. If ever character seemed to not matter, if ever consequences seemed inconsequential, if ever the culture seemed bent on total corruption . . . hello 2024. So, what a way to start a new year, with the reminder that I am the salt of the earth and that if I’m not salty it means I’m missing a big part of my calling to follow Jesus. Like I said, no pressure.

Some would seem to think that saltiness is only about what we do. What truths we defend. What side we take. What vote we cast. It’s not less than that. But I think it’s so much more than that.

After all, salt is subtle. I think being salty is also about the character we display as well as the character of the characters we support. It’s about being heavenly wise and not just worldly astute. It’s about being quick to hear and slow to speak and even slower to anger (James 1;19), even as those around us seem bent on continually shouting. It’s about possessing, and expressing, a certain air — the air of heaven, and a noticeable nuance — the nuance of holiness.

Okay, that’s not helping with the pressure.

But the Lord put something else on my plate this morning that might help.

But he, full of the Holy Spirit, gazed into heaven and saw the glory of God, and Jesus standing at the right hand of God. And he said, “Behold, I see the heavens opened, and the Son of Man standing at the right hand of God.”

(Acts 7:55-56 ESV)

“He” is Stephen, and I also read his defense before the council this morning. Talk about having to be salt. Talk about an opportunity to shine light. Talk about a no-win situation if winning meant you were going to get out alive. Hey Stephen, no pressure!

But he stood fast and he salted. And he did so with a laser focus on “things that are above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God”, his mind set on “things that are above, not on things that are on earth” (Col. 3:1-2). And he did so full of the Holy Spirit.

If I’m gonna be salt, I’m gonna need to be full of the Holy Spirit. If I’m gonna be light, I’ll need first to have the light shining within me. If I’m gonna do what a follower of Jesus is supposed to do, then I’ll need to do it through the power of the Spirit which the Son said He would send from the Father (Jn. 14:16-17, 25; 15:26-27; 16:7-8). I might be called to be salt, but the Spirit’s active agency within me is my only hope of saltiness.

Chew on that for a bit . . . and maybe there’s not “no pressure,” but, by faith, there’s a lot less.

Only by His grace. Always for His glory.

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A Gift

Okay . . . off the top of your head . . . in your mind quickly list 5 gifts that God gives. . . . . Go!

Don’t read on, unless you’ve done it.

Did repentance make your list? Not mine. But perhaps it will after chewing a bit on something that jumped off the page while reading in Acts 5 this morning.

Context? The apostles are before the high priest and the council. The charge against them? Doing too many signs and wonders, healing too many people, preaching and teaching too much about Jesus. The charge made to them? “Not to teach in His name” (5:28).

But Peter and the apostles answered, “We must obey God rather than men. The God of our fathers raised Jesus, whom you killed by hanging Him on a tree. God exalted Him at His right hand as Leader and Savior, to give repentance to Israel and forgiveness of sins. And we are witnesses to these things, and so is the Holy Spirit, whom God has given to those who obey Him.”

(Acts 5:29-32 ESV)

Jesus, hung on a tree and then exalted by God, now ascended as Leader and Savior to give forgiveness of sins. Yup, knew that. That’s the gift of salvation.

But I don’t know the last time I heard it said that Jesus was hung on a tree, exalted by the Father, and ascended on high so that He might give repentance. (Which, if I think about it a bit is really the gift of sanctification . . . the renewing of our mind).

I tend to think of repentance as some unpleasant task I must do rather than a gift of God to be gladly and thankfully received. I think about “changing my mind” as a less than desirable act that needs to be done in order to be forgiven rather than a change of mind which is gifted of God and graciously granted so that I could not only know forgiveness of sin but also walk in newness of life. The “180 degree about face” which we use to describe repentance isn’t just about turning and looking to the cross, but also turning and embracing the way of life which promotes flourishing for those created as God’s image-bearers. Isn’t repentance the gift of holy thinking intended to bear the fruit of holy living? I’m thinkin’ . . .

Repentance is a gift. A change of mind concerning my way or God’s way is evidence of grace. An acknowledgment and confession of sin, evidence that the Spirit is winning the battle against the flesh (Gal. 5:16-17).

The Son died on a cross, the Father exalted Him on high, the Spirit was sent to take up residence within the believer, so that we might receive — among so many other gifts — the gift of repentance.

Or do you presume on the riches of His kindness and forbearance and patience, not knowing that God’s kindness is meant to lead you to repentance?

(Romans 2:4 ESV)

God’s kindness leads us to repentance. He doesn’t sit back with His arms folded, guarding the blood of Jesus, withholding its application until we muster up the humility to gut out an “I’m sorry. I am wrong, You are right.” No, He leads with the blood as He leads us to a change of mind. Jesus gives repentance, He gifts a coming to our senses, He brings us to the point of wanting to bow the knee to God’s best for our lives.

Repentance. Add it to your list of the top 5 gifts of God.

Only by His grace. Only for His glory.

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An Egyptian Servant and A Hebrew King (2019 Rerun)

This week isn’t going to be the week I get back into routine . . . we’ll target that for next week. So, after reading, went back into the archives for something to chew on. Re-posting some thoughts from five years ago . . .


They couldn’t have been any more different. First, she’s a her and he’s a him. Furthermore, she was an Egyptian. He was a Hebrew. And she was bottom of the food chain, a servant of Abraham and his wife, Sarah. While he was the big kahuna, king of Israel, a son of Abraham who served no one but God alone.

But in my readings this morning what hits me is their similarities. Both were in dire straits.

She was forced to flee the safety of her place of employment after her mistress “dealt harshly with her” (Gen. 16:6). And that because she had “looked with contempt” on her barren boss after having been required to conceive a child by her boss’s husband. Baby wasn’t her idea. Being arrogant about it, though, wasn’t such a good move. And so she finds herself homeless, helpless, and in desperate need.

As for the king, we aren’t told the specifics of his situation. Whatever the cause, he takes responsibility, accepting the need for rebuke and discipline (Ps. 6:1-2). But that it was also desperate is made crystal clear (6:6-7). He was weary with groaning. Every night he flooded his bed with tears. His couch was drenched with his weeping. His eyes wasted because of grief. Whoever his enemies were, and whatever they were doing to him, this descendant of Abraham, ascended to the throne of Israel, was at the end of himself–just like the nobody house servant of Abraham was at the end of herself.

Seems trials and tribulations are a great equalizer. But I’m also thinking they are a place ripe for an encounter of the divine kind with the God who listens to our affliction.

And the angel of the LORD said to her, “Behold, you are pregnant and shall bear a son. You shall call his name Ishmael, because the LORD has listened to your affliction. . . .” So she called the name of the LORD who spoke to her, “You are a God of seeing,” for she said, “Truly here I have seen Him who looks after me.”

(Genesis 16:11, 13 ESV)

. . . for the LORD has heard the sound of my weeping. The LORD has heard my plea; the LORD accepts my prayer.

(Psalms 6:8b-9 ESV)

God had listened to her affliction. He had heard the sound of his weeping. That’s what I’m chewing on this morning.

She was in the wilderness thinking she was alone (Gen. 16:7). He was in his palace crying out to God, “But LORD, how long?” (Ps. 6:3b). But both became keenly aware of the God who sees and the LORD who listens.

For her, it was through an angel. For him, it was by faith. She came to know more about Abraham’s God. He grew to know more of what it meant to trust in the God of Abraham.

Different people. Different life stories. But the same God . . . the same yesterday, today, and forever (Heb. 13:8).

The God who listens to afflictions. The God who sees our hardship. The One who looks after us.

Sometimes seemingly silent, but always hearing the sound of our weeping. Sometimes taking longer to intervene than we’d like, but the One who is not deaf to our pleas and is ready, willing, and able to accept our prayer.

Behold our God!

The God who is gracious to me (Ps. 6:2).

The God to whom all glory is due.

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God of My Righteousness

You can deduct from David’s lyrics that the occasion which spurred his writing of the fourth Psalm was a time when he was on the wrong end of a smear campaign. His honor was being turned to shame (4:2a). Those who opposed him loved speaking vain words and spreading lies in order to call into question whether the king was fit to lead (4:2b). To say the least, it seems the public shredding of his integrity was causing David some internal distress.

You can’t undo slander. There’s no following in the wake of harmful words spoken with the hope of neutralizing or reversing what’s been communicated. No cleaning up a name that’s been soiled after it’s been dragged through the mud. When character is questioned and reputation is blackened, to a large degree you’re just gonna need to live with it. Did I mention it can be distressing?

So how do you sleep at night? By turning constantly to the God of my righteousness.

Answer me when I call, O God of my righteousness! You have given me relief when I was in distress. Be gracious to me and hear my prayer! . . .

In peace I will both lie down and sleep; for You alone, O LORD, make me dwell in safety.

(Psalms 4:1, 8 ESV)

God of my righteousness. That’s what I’m chewing on this morning.

First, He is the God who knows my righteousness. The God who is omniscient, the God who searches the depths of the heart, the God who is just and will judge righteously. David could rest in the assurance that God knew the truth and God could be trusted with the truth — whether or not the truth was ever proclaimed among men as was the slander.

This is not to say that David was a man of no faults, or even of only minor faults, but that God, knowing the sin David would need to own, also knew the sin that wasn’t his to own.

But more than that, God of my righteousness is the God who is my righteousness.

Offer right sacrifices, and put your trust in the LORD.

(Psalms 4:5 ESV)

Ultimately, David’s righteousness lay not in how much, nor in how little he failed but in the reality of his faith. For, says Paul, “Faith is counted as righteousness” (Rom. 4:5b). Paul then goes on to quote David where, in another psalm, he puts it this way:

“Blessed are those whose lawless deeds are forgiven, and whose sins are covered; blessed is the man against whom the Lord will not count his sin.”

(Romans 4:7-8 / Psalms 32:1-2 ESV)

Sins forgiven. Sins covered. Sins not counted against us by the God who is both just and the justifier of the sinner. And beyond this, a righteousness freely credited to the sinner by faith. All from God of my righteousness.

That God is our righteousness is what brings the peace which allows us to lie down and sleep at night, the peace that passes understanding which brings true rest. It is this righteousness — the imputed righteousness of Christ, God of my righteousness — which ultimately makes us dwell in safety as we no longer live in the perpetual fear, nor the constant disappointment of our actual and inevitable failure for we abide beneath the shadow of the cross.

O God of my righteousness! You have given me relief when I was in distress . . . In peace I will both lie down and sleep; for You alone, O LORD, make me dwell in safety.

By His grace. For His glory.

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The Gift of God

I know that the nativity scenes around my house (yes, there’s more than one . . . been a tradition in our house since I don’t know when), though they are meant to remind me of “the reason for the season”, are in reality a muddled portrayal of the historical facts. A baby, a mother, a menagerie of animals, and some magi didn’t actually all congregate around a manger — but it makes for a heart-warming, and even a praise-invoking scene. And ask me about the magi — the wise men (not necessarily three) from the east — and I would have said they arrived in Bethlehem a couple of years later and that they were led there by a star. And I would have got part of that wrong too.

Then Herod summoned the wise men secretly and ascertained from them what time the star had appeared. And he sent them to Bethlehem, saying, “Go and search diligently for the Child, and when you have found Him, bring me word, that I too may come and worship Him.”

(Matthew 2:7-8 ESV)

And he (aka Herod) sent them to Bethlehem. For some reason that’s what captures my imagination this morning. Not the account of Noah entering the ark which I read in Genesis. Not the account of the Spirit descending at Pentecost which I read in Acts. Not even the account of the LORD sustaining David who’s surrounded by his enemies which I read in one of his psalms. No, instead I’m led to chew on the hardness of heart of the man who directed to Bethlehem those seeking “the king of the Jews”.

The wise men’s trip could have been a “direct flight” with the star leading them straight to “the place where the child was” (Mt. 2:9). Instead, by God’s sovereign determination and according to His providential purposes, it led the wise men to stop first in Jerusalem and to inquire of the king there so that he might ask too “where the Christ was to be born” (Mt. 2:4). They were seeking the promised Messiah, and now Herod was as well.

He calls the chief priests and the scribes and wants to know where the promised Branch was to be born, where the foretold Lion of the tribe of Judah might lay. And the king’s counselors did their job well for they knew their bibles well, telling the king that God had revealed to the prophet, Micah, that from Bethlehem in the land of Judah would come “a Ruler who will shepherd My people.”

Bethlehem, just a few miles down the road from Jerusalem. Herod could have gone there that day had he really wanted to “come and worship Him” too (Mt. 2:8). But among the kaleidoscope of reactions evoked by the birth of the promised Messiah, Herod’s would be included as an example of what an anti-Christ response to the good news might look like.

Think of the arrogant audacity to inquire after “the Christ” when he knew all along he would seek to put to death the foretold Son of Man who would come to reign. Think of the hypocritical hardness of heart which portrayed a religious interest only to protect his self-interest. Think about the deception as he faked submission to bowing before the King of kings. Oooh . . . you’re a mean one, Mr. Grinch! (Oops, got my Christmas stories mixed up).

But as I noodle on Herod, what hits me is how quick I was to skip over Herod. To pass quickly over his story because I want to think of my story as somehow more like the shepherds’ in my serene nativity scenes. I want to think that I would rejoice at the news, run to the inn, marvel at the stable. I want to gasp in disgust at Herod and wonder how his heart could have been so stone cold to such good news of Immanuel’s coming.

Well, I should gasp, but in amazement. Not that Herod rejected Jesus, but that anyone else received Him. Not that Herod was so evil, but that anyone might be counted as wholly righteous. Not condemning his failure to believe but pausing to consider their faith which was gifted.

For by grace you have been saved through 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.

(Ephesians 2:8-9 ESV)

The gift of God, wrapped in swaddling cloths and laid in a manger at the center of my many nativities. The gift of God, evident in every heart that came to Him, that were opened to believe the truth that the Christ had come, and that His name was Jesus, for He would save people from their sin. The gift of God, found even in Herod as a reminder that there but for the grace of God go I. A reminder of not how different he was from me, but of how scarily similar. A reminder of why I bow in wonder and worship.

“You think they are decent only because your standards are so low. You thought you were decent until you saw the chasm, did you not? . . . By thinking men better than they are, you make the King’s grace seem less amazing than it truly is.”

(Alcorn, Randy. Edge of Eternity. The Crown Publishing Group.)

O what wondrous grace to behold the King of glory.

Amen?

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The Heart-Knower

I’m no expert in Greek, not even an amateur. But I know enough to take a run at translating this word: kardiognostes.

Kardio . . . aka cardio . . . aka having to do with the heart. Gnostes . . . aka gnostic . . . aka having to do with knowledge. Thus, to have kardiognostes is to have heart-knowledge. I’m reminded this morning as I read in Acts (and as is evident in my other readings in Genesis, Psalms, and Matthew) that our God has heart-knowledge. That He is the Heart-Knower.

Context? Finding a successor for Judas.

Jesus has ascended and His small band of believers are back in Jerusalem praying (Acts 1:12-14). But the twelve chosen to be part of Jesus’ inner-circle before the cross and commissioned to be His first cohort of messengers of the good news concerning His resurrection, number but eleven. Judas, the betrayer, has taken his own life (Matt. 27:3-5, Acts 1:18) and has left a hole in their ranks. Peter divinely connects Judas’s vacated position with one of David’s psalms: “Let another take his office” (Ps. 109:8). So, from those qualified — those who had followed Jesus from His baptism by John until His resurrection from the dead — two are short-listed, “Joseph called Barsabbas, who was also called Justus, and Matthias” (Acts 1:21-23).

And they prayed and said, “You, Lord, who know the hearts of all, show which one of these two You have chosen to take the place in this ministry and apostleship from which Judas turned aside to go to his own place.” And they cast lots for them, and the lot fell on Matthias, and he was numbered with the eleven apostles.

(Acts 1:24-26 ESV)

They could short-list but the Lord needed to select. They could assess against the qualifications but only the Lord could effectuate the calling (after all Judas was qualified as well). And so they prayed and they cast lots, confident that the Lord knew the heart.

You, Lord, who know the hearts of all . . . That’s what I’m chewing on this morning. My God is the Heart-Knower.

He knew the heart of Cain, and so “had no regard” for Cain’s offering (Gen. 4:3-5). He knew the heart of Joseph, thus intervened via an angel-gram, preventing Joseph from quietly divorcing Mary before she started showing (Mt. 1:19-24). He knows the heart of nations that rage and of people who plot in vain, of kings and rulers who set themselves against the LORD, wanting to cast off the cords of common grace for their own selfish, sinful agendas — and knowing their hearts, the One who sits enthroned in heaven laughs, “amused at their presumption” (MSG), even as He’s grieved by their rebellion (Ps. 2:1-4). Our God is the Heart-Knower.

And, says the inspired text this morning, He knows the hearts of all. All . . . as in everybody. As in the whole — every individual and every collective. Every self and every tribe. Without exception, without exemption, You, Lord, know the hearts of all.

That includes the guy in this chair this morning noodling on this verse. The Lord who knows the hearts of all knows my heart.

There’s an “ugh” that can follow in response to such a reminder, for what I know of my heart is not all that I would want my heart to be. The remnant heart of the old man still fights for control. You know, that old heart which is “deceitful above all things, and desperately sick; who can understand it?” (Jer. 17:9). The Lord knows the heart . . . even that one. Yet knowing that heart, He knows too the price He paid to redeem that heart, the atoning sacrifice of Jesus which continues to satisfy the debt incurred when my old nature’s heart goes rogue, the blood shed on Calvary which continues to cleanse from all unrighteousness.

But then He knows, as well, the new heart. The heart He promised, the heart He gave. The one He said He would transplant within me as part and parcel of being made a new creation (Eze. 36:25-27, 2Cor. 5:17). He knows that heart, enlivened by the Spirit as it is being conformed wondrously and graciously and increasingly to the heart of the Son. The heart of Jesus beating within me, for “I have been crucified with Christ and it is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me” (Gal. 2:20).

He is the Heart-Knower.

Search me of God and know my heart . . . and lead me in the way everlasting (Ps. 139:22-23).

By Your grace. For Your glory.

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In the Beginning

I’m not waiting for the new year. This morning I jump into my 2024 reading plan, reading from Genesis, Matthew, Acts, and Psalms. And the common theme I’m considering as I chew on this morning’s readings? As the year comes to end, I’m thinking about beginnings.

In Matthew, there’s the beginning of Jesus as I read again through His family line. Acts is getting me ready for the beginning of the church as it sets the stage for a power to come from heaven which will enable and compel the followers of Jesus to go into all the earth. And Psalms talks of a tree’s beginnings, one that yields its fruit in season because it has been planted by streams of water. Sown with the seed of “the law of the LORD” and watered as the word is meditated upon “day and night.”

But it’s the beginning I read about in Genesis for which I am particularly thankful this morning. For without that beginning there’s no reason to believe in any of the other beginnings I’ve read about this morning.

In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth.

(Genesis 1:1 ESV)

In the beginning, God . . .

What a difference those four words make. What a foundation they lay. For if in the beginning anything else but God, then it’s really hard to make sense of what’s happening now. To make sense of what’s happening in a world where wars, famine, and new calamities each day make you wonder if things will ever get better. To make sense of what’s happening in our culture, where truth is increasingly whatever suits the individual best and yet must be the standard by which everyone else must be judged. To make sense of what’s happening in our own lives, so often far removed from the script we might have imagined for ourselves. If, in the beginning, there wasn’t God, then what’s left to make sense of anything today?

But if, in the beginning, God, then blessed indeed is the man, and the woman, who delights in Him. Blessed because they are tethered to a transcendent reality and to an objective truth — a truth which remains as the plumb line by which we can measure all other truths.

If, in the beginning, God, then we are His idea, and He is not ours. We are His creation, formed for His purposes, and God is not a result of our imagination, made up for our own sense of well-being.

If, in the beginning, God, then we can rest assured that the work begun by Almighty God — King of kings and Lord of lords — is a work that will be completed. A work accomplished perfectly according to His purposes, precisely according to His plan, and permanently according to His promise. For if, in the beginning, God, then truly, “It is finished.”

In the beginning, God. An anchor for the soul as we look back and process the year behind even as we wonder about the year ahead. The reality which brings about a sure hope, independent of what may transpire on any given day, as it is built upon the unfailing intentions of Him who created the day.

In the beginning, God. Thus, whatever has transpired in ’23 — whether good or not so good — He has known it all, blessed through all, and has sustained through all. And whatever lies ahead in ’24 — whether good or not so good — He remains sovereign over all.

So, I am comforted, and encouraged as I’m reminded that in the beginning, God.

Rejoicing in His eternal grace. Rejoice for His eternal glory.

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A New Proximity

Hovering over Revelation 21 this morning and the new Jerusalem. Will it be an actual place? Sounds like it — its measurements are meticulous, and its description is very detailed. Or is it to be understand as a symbolic portrayal of a people, “those written in the Lamb’s book of life” (Rev. 21:27b)? It is, after all, referred to as “a bride adorned for her husband . . . the wife of the Lamb” (Rev. 21:2, 9), and I’ve read about a bride somewhere before where it talks of a people and not a place (Eph. 5:25).

But as I scan the chapter, something pops. As I chew on it, the flavor changes — maybe it’s not about discerning whether the new Jerusalem is a new place or a nuanced picture, but perhaps about knowing that the new Jerusalem is about a never experienced before proximity.

Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth; for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. I also saw the holy city, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared like a bride adorned for her husband. Then I heard a loud voice from the throne: Look, God’s dwelling is with humanity, and He will live with them. They will be His peoples, and God Himself will be with them and will be their God.

(Revelation 21:1-3 CSB)

Whatever the new Jerusalem is, it will be this: God’s dwelling is with humanity. Whether a physical place or a spiritual portrayal, know this, He will live with them. Be it a big cube or an inhabited cosmos, God Himself will be with them.

I’m not saying that it’s not important to try and figure out whether the composition of the new Jerusalem will be physical or if it will be experienced as something more metaphysical, I’m just thinking that the most important thing about the new Jerusalem is that God will again dwell with humanity in a way He hasn’t since the beginning of time. It will be Eden restored.

But Eden 2.0, a better Eden. In the context of a new heavens and a new earth, this Eden will be a new city rather than an ancient garden. A place where there will be no need for a sun and a moon to be created to shine on it “for the glory of God gives it light, and its lamp is the Lamb” (Rev. 21:23). A place where our proximity to God and His presence among us will allow us to not just hear the sound of the LORD God walking in our midst in the cool of the day (Gen. 3:8), but more than that — oh, so much more! — we “will see His face” as we worship before “the throne of God and of the Lamb” (Rev. 22:3-4).

A place? A picture? I can only imagine! (After all, isn’t that kind of what apocalyptic prophecy is all about?).

But a proximity, a new proximity? I can only anticipate! Eagerly awaiting that day when faith gives way to sight, when knowing in part becomes being fully known. When the old Eden is recast as the New Jerusalem and God’s dwelling is with humanity . . . He will live with them . . . God Himself will be with them.

He who testifies about these things says, “Yes, I am coming soon.”
  Amen! Come, Lord Jesus!

(Revelation 22:20 CSB)

Until then . . .

We await by His grace, even as we desire to live for His glory.

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Like Jewels in a Crown

I’ve never undertaken the exercise, but I wonder how many different ways the people of God are described in Scripture, other than as the people of God. What comes to mind immediately are the metaphors of a flock and a bride. Then there’s a family, a body, and a building. I noodle a bit more and that we’re God’s inheritance comes to mind. And I think if I spent some more time trying to search the archives of my memory, I might come up with a few more. But I doubt I would retrieve from memory the image which every year stirs my soul when I encounter it in Zechariah’s prophecy.

The LORD their God will save them on that day
as the flock of His people;
for they are like jewels in a crown,
sparkling over His land.
How lovely and beautiful!

(Zechariah 9:16-17a CSB)

They are like jewels in a crown. I know the strict interpretation points to a specific subset of God’s people who are rescued on the day God judge’s Zion’s enemies, saving His own, and establishing them in His holy city under His personal rule. But I think there’s reason to think of ourselves too as part of that crown, as one of those jewels, a different type of “living stone” than perhaps we usually think of.

For just as the crown points to a victor’s crown, with the jewels as the demonstrable glory and beauty of that crown, we too, like those precious gems, are the tangible evidence of Christ’s triumph over sin and death. Trophies of grace, we are the spoils of His conquest on display for all heaven and earth to behold. Just like jewels in a crown . . . how lovely and beautiful.

Our loveliness not in ourselves, our beauty the imputed splendor of Another. Not intended to draw attention to the crown but to the One who alone is worthy to wear the crown.

One reason this verse so stirs my heart is because it always triggers a hymn I learned well before I knew what the hymn was referring to. A hymn learned as a young Christian with limited knowledge of the written word, but one which evoked a sense of well-being and wonder, of awe and adoration, because of the Living Word. You can listen to it by clicking here.

When He cometh, when He cometh
to make up His jewels,
all His jewels, precious jewels,
His loved and His own.

Like the stars of the morning,
His bright crown adorning,
they shall shine in their beauty,
bright gems for His crown.

He will gather, He will gather
the gems for His kingdom,
all the pure ones, all the bright ones,
His loved and His own.

Like the stars of the morning,
His bright crown adorning,
they shall shine in their beauty,
bright gems for His crown.

Little children, little children
who love their Redeemer,
are the jewels, precious jewels,
His loved and His own.

Like the stars of the morning,
His bright crown adorning,
they shall shine in their beauty,
bright gems for His crown.

William Cushing (1856), Public Domain

Like jewels in a crown . . .

The evidence of God’s amazing grace. A declaration for God’s all-deserving glory.

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The Day of Small Things and The Big Picture

“Return to me.” It sounds like something one of the prophets would say on behalf of the LORD of Hosts — and it is. This morning it’s Zechariah who’s the conduit for God’s call to His people to repent.

But what I take note of is that the call is not to those who were in rebellion during the days of the monarchy before God’s discipline and the exile. Nor is it directed to those in Babylon who were left to process God’s discipline during 70 years of exile. Instead, it is directed to those who, 20 years or so after the exile, have returned to Judah to rebuild the temple. To those we might consider to be “the obedient ones.” The first to leave the bleak rivers of Babylon and embark on a mission to restore the glory of God in Jerusalem. It’s to these saints that the LORD through the prophet says, “Return to Me . . . and I will return to you” (Zech. 1:3).

Huh? How come? Aren’t these the good guys? Aren’t they doing the right work? What’s this return and repent stuff?

Well, first there’s no one good (Rom. 3:12). But yeah, they were working on good stuff. However, years of hard work, constant opposition, and relatively little to show for it was causing these post-exiles to become somewhat discouraged and thus a little distracted. The work on God’s house had stalled. Their hands had found other stuff to do which resulted in more immediate benefits — like building their own houses (see Haggai). Basically, they were struggling to keep on keepin’ on.

Cue the prophet. Send in a guy to stir things up. To recast the vision and do so with a whole bunch of weird visions. Visions not only of the immediate future, but of the far distant future as well. Cue the prophet, because that’s what’s needed to encourage faithfulness in the day of small things.

Then the word of the LORD came to me: “Zerubbabel’s hands have laid the foundation of this house, and his hands will complete it. Then you will know that the LORD of Armies has sent me to you. For who despises the day of small things? These seven eyes of the LORD, which scan throughout the whole earth, will rejoice when they see the ceremonial stone in Zerubbabel’s hand.”

(Zechariah 4:8-10 CSB)

Noodle on it a bit and you can kind of get why it may have been easy for the remnant who returned to look at what they were doing and conclude that theirs was the day of small things. Even though the temple had begun to be rebuilt, though some rejoiced at what was rising from the ruins, others wept to see that what was taking shape was but a shadow of its former glory (Ez. 3:12). This was no Solomon building program. What’s more, locals in leadership who feared the Jews return to the land opposed the building program and sought to subvert the work (Ez. 4:1-2). When that didn’t work, they out-and-out got in the faces of the returned remnant and “discouraged the people of Judah and made them afraid” (Ez. 4:4). So, what’s the point, they may have thought? Faithful obedience seems useless. Maybe it makes more sense to live our best lives now and not keep banging our heads against a wall (aka the temple wall).

So, what’s the remedy for discouragement in the day of small things? Like I said, cue the prophet and repaint the big picture. Shift the focus from the work on earth to the purposes and promises from heaven. Expand the vision from what they’re trying to get done this week and turn their gaze upon the work God has said He would do in a coming day. Or, as Paul writes to the Colossians, the Corinthians, and the Romans:

So if you have been raised with Christ, seek the things above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things.

(Colossians 3:1-2 CSB)

Therefore we do not give up. Even though our outer person is being destroyed, our inner person is being renewed day by day. For our momentary light affliction is producing for us an absolutely incomparable eternal weight of glory. So we do not focus on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.

(2Corinthians 4:16-18 CSB)

For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is going to be revealed to us.

(Romans 8:18 CSB)

The big picture is the counterbalance for the day of small things. Heavenly insights, the antidote for feelings of habitual insignificance. God’s promises, the offset for today’s pressures and problems. Remembering what the Father has purposed and His power to accomplish it, the energy boost which keeps us faithful.

Praise God for the day of small things. For in them we get to build as we wait for the day of His return.

By His grace. For His glory.

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