No Famine in the Land

I’ve been working my way through the Minor Prophets. No beating around the bush with those guys. They don’t have a lot of papyrus to fill so they get their message out fast and they get their message out hard. A lot of judgment prophesied in these morning readings — getting kind of commonplace. But this morning, Amos lays down a judgment that sends chills down my spine.

“Behold, the days are coming,” declares the Lord GOD,
       “when I will send a famine on the land—
not a famine of bread, nor a thirst for water,
       but of hearing the words of the LORD.

They shall wander from sea to sea,
       and from north to east;
they shall run to and fro, to seek the word of the LORD,
       but they shall not find it.

(Amos 8:11-12 ESV)

Famine. A pretty common tool in God’s toolkit of judgment. A “go to” retribution designed to get the attention of a hard-hearted, stiff-necked, rebellious people. Sometimes a result of God withholding the natural elements needed for food to be found, sometimes because God calls a foreign army to lay siege to a city. Whatever the cause, something about not eating that’s linked to encouraging a people to have ears to hear what the Lord has to say.

But what if the Lord stops speaking? What if that famine is not a famine of bread, nor a thirst for water, but of hearing the words of the LORD. What if, though they should awake to their wretched condition, come to their senses, and though they run to and fro to seek the word of the LORD, they shall not find it?

No more prophecy. No more preaching. No more pleading for wayward souls to return. No more promises of gracious redemption. Just silence. Nothing but nothing. Kind of makes me shudder!

Oh, the abundance that is ours when it comes to the words of the LORD. Those written words — God-breathed (2Tim. 3:16), living and active and sharper than any two-edged sword (Heb. 4:12). Ready to bear much fruit when it is planted on good soil (Mt. 13:23). So many words, so available, that we can so easily take them for granted. So many words and yet we can find ourselves going days, weeks, and even longer without longing for their taste — fasting from the words of the LORD rather than feasting on them.

Oh, the flood that is ours through the word of the LORD. The living Word. The Word who was in the beginning. The Word who was with God. The Word who was God. The Word who became flesh and dwelt among us. The Word from whom we have received grace upon grace (Jn. 1:1, 14, 16). Why would we be content to not seek to hear His voice, and open the door, so that we might eat with Him and He with us (Rev. 3:20)?

What would it be to have a famine in the land, not a famine of bread, nor a thirst for water, but of hearing the words of the LORD? I can’t even imagine.

Oh, that we would never take for granted the words or the Word of the LORD. That we would come to the table often. That we would come to the table famished. That we would come to the table and be filled.

The law of the LORD is perfect,
       reviving the soul;
the testimony of the LORD is sure,
       making wise the simple;
the precepts of the LORD are right,
       rejoicing the heart;
the commandment of the LORD is pure,
       enlightening the eyes;
the fear of the LORD is clean,
       enduring forever;
the rules of the LORD are true,
       and righteous altogether.
More to be desired are they than gold,
       even much fine gold;
sweeter also than honey
       and drippings of the honeycomb.

(Psalm 19:7-10 ESV)

How sweet are Your words to my taste,
       sweeter than honey to my mouth!

(Psalm 119:103 ESV)

No famine in the land.

By His grace. For His glory.

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No More Tears

The fact of the matter is that I am less sure now of how the “end times” play out than I was 30 or 40 years ago. Then, I had it nailed and was ready to spot, identify, and check-off the “signs of the time.” Now I find myself just as sure as I was then of His imminent return, but less sure of exactly how that’s gonna happen. So, when I read Revelation these days I do so — for the most part — trying to keep the big picture in mind. While I try to ask the “literal or symbolic” question as I come to the text, I tend to settle on what’s “for sure” after that time of great tribulation. One of those for sures? No more tears.

Then one of the elders addressed me, saying, “Who are these, clothed in white robes, and from where have they come?” I said to him, “Sir, you know.” And he said to me, “These are the ones coming out of the great tribulation. They have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb.

“Therefore they are before the throne of God,
       and serve Him day and night in His temple;
       and He who sits on the throne will shelter them with His presence.
They shall hunger no more, neither thirst anymore;
       the sun shall not strike them,
       nor any scorching heat.
For the Lamb in the midst of the throne will be their shepherd,
       and He will guide them to springs of living water,
       and God will wipe away every tear from their eyes.

(Revelation 7:13-17 ESV)

Good will wipe away every tear from their eyes . . . That’s what I’m chewing on this morning.

Whether the great tribulation is a literal 7-year period or the church age, whether the great multitude (Rev. 7:9) is different than, or the same as the 144,000 (Rev. 7:4-8), what I do know is that their robes have been washed and made white in the blood of the Lamb, and that at some point — whether it’s in heaven or in a Millennial kingdom on earth — they are before the throne of God and that the Lamb in the midst of the throne will be their shepherd. And while the Son guides them to living water, the Father, as Isaiah prophesied (Isa. 25:8), wipes away every tear.

Count on it! For them. For us too.

No more tears. Hmm . . . Imagine that.

No more tears. Wiped away. Removed. Erased. Blotted out. Obliterated.

No more tears because mourning becomes a thing of the past. No more tears as pain, suffering, and the sorrow of separation are forever resolved. No more tears because the final victory over death is won. No more tears “for the former things have passed way” (Rev. 21:4).

While I may not be sure of the all the details and dynamics of what leads up to the former things passing away, I am sure of this, God will wipe away every tear.

No more tears.

Can’t wait.

Oh, the grace — coming soon — to be anticipated! Oh, the glory — here and now — given to the God whose promises are sure.

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Search Me O’ God . . . ‘Cause I’m Finding Nothing!

It’s complicated. Yup, that’s the story of Job.

A man who God Himself repeatedly declares to be “a blameless and upright man, who fears God and turns away from evil” (Job 1:8, 2:3). And yet, we know that there is “none righteous, no, not one” (Rom. 3:10, Ps. 14:2-3, Ps. 53:2-3) — Job had his stuff; his foibles, his faults, and his failings. And yet again, Job was a sacrificer (Job 1:5), aware that only with the shedding of blood can there be forgiveness of sin (Heb. 9:22). So, he’s a saint whose gotta be a sinner and, like everyone else, is in need of a sacrifice.

But there’s more . . . The complication continues in that Job, fundamentally, is aligned with his non-comforting comforters that sin will bring about suffering and thus, if one’s suffering it must be because of some sin. But Job knows, like we know, that his suffering isn’t tied to any specific sin. In fact, you could say it is tied to his lack of sin — that because he is “a blameless and upright man, who fears God and turns away from evil”, the God of heaven permits Satan, the ruler of this world, to trouble him (Job 1:9-12, 2:4-6). So, while these flakey friends start grilling a ravaged Job on what sin(s) he must have committed to deserve such sorrow and suffering, Job’s only reply is, “I didn’t do it! Not me!” And so, for Job, life wasn’t making much sense. Like I said, it’s complicated.

Thus, in Job 31, Job starts running through an inventory of potential sins that might merit suffering. Lustful looks at a virgin? Nope. Walk in the way of falsehood? Not me. Making moves on my neighbor’s wife? Uh, uh.

Ignored my servants’ complaints against me? Withheld from the poor when I could have helped? Allowed someone to perish because of lack of clothing? Raised my hand against an orphan? Made gold my trust? Kissed my own hand as I pridefully considered my own splendor above that of the sun or the moon? Rejoiced at the ruin of an enemy, or ignored the hunger of a sojourner? I don’t think so.

I get it, says Job, if what’s happening to me is because “I have concealed my transgressions as others do by hiding my iniquity in my heart” (Job 31:33). But, Job says in effect, I’ve searched my heart, and I’m finding nothing.

And so, he looks outside himself.

Oh, that I had one to hear me!
       (Here is my signature! Let the Almighty answer me!)
       Oh, that I had the indictment written by my Adversary!
Surely I would carry it on my shoulder;
       I would bind it on me as a crown;

(Job 31:35-36 ESV)

So complicated is Job’s state that he regards the Almighty as his adversary, his prosecutor. And so, he asks, “Someone give me a hearing! Let me see the indictment!” And what would Job do with such a list of accusations?

I would give Him an account of all my steps;
       like a prince I would approach Him.

(Job 31:-37 ESV)

I would give Him an account of all my steps . . .

I read that. Paused at that. And then shuddered at that. I would give Him an account . . .

Peterson puts it this way: “I’m prepared to account for every move I’ve ever made” (MSG).

Really? Oh, the thought of standing before God and giving an account for every move I’ve ever made. Not just for the sins known, but what about the sins unknown? Heavy sigh!

To be sure, I want God to search me and reveal my sin. But not so I can give an account. But so I can repent in response to such divine, dividing-asunder kindness (Heb. 4:12, Rom. 2:4). So that I can know afresh the forgiveness and cleansing that comes only through the shed blood of the Lamb (Jn. 1:29, 1Jn. 1:9).

While I want my sin to be “found out” it’s not so that I can defend myself but so that I can, by faith, plea again the righteousness of Christ credited to my account resulting from my union with Him. Found out not that the Almighty would be my adversary, but that He would be my refuge.

While I might be finding nothing, thank God the finished work of the cross covers everything.

And that’s not all that complicated.

Because of God’s amazing grace. Only for God’s all-deserving glory.

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Advantage, Us!

Though Jesus spoke it to the Twelve, He intended us to hear it as well. Though their ministry would be unique to them and to their time and to their place, the mission was to be shared by all who Jesus would call friend (Jn. 15:15). Thus, what they would need, we would need. And so, advantage, us!

“Nevertheless, I tell you the truth: it is to your advantage that I go away, for if I do not go away, the Helper will not come to you. But if I go, I will send Him to you.” ~ Jesus

(John 16:7 ESV)

It is to your advantage . . . chew on that for a bit.

I’m going away, says Jesus, and it will be “better for you” (MSG). “In fact, it is best for you” (NLT). Advantage, us!

The Helper has come. The Comforter (KJV). The Counselor (NIV). The Advocate. The One sent by Jesus, called to draw alongside us. Sent to live inside us. The One who leads the followers of Christ into a deeper truth, and imparts to His disciples a dynamic power, and fills them with a divine presence. Talk about an advantage!

But wait there’s more . . . The advantage isn’t just for our personal benefit but because of our prevailing mission.

And when He comes, He will convict the world concerning sin and righteousness and judgment.” ~ Jesus

(John 16:8 ESV)

More than just deeper truth, dynamic power, and divine presence, the Third Person of the Godhead is sent to disrupt the world. He’s a world-changer.

Okay, isn’t that a bit of overkill? I appreciate the benefit of deeper understanding. I’m all in for more personal power. And yeah, bring on God’s presence. But do I really need a world-changer? Evidently.

“But when the Helper comes, whom I will send to you from the Father, the Spirit of truth, who proceeds from the Father, He will bear witness about Me. And you also will bear witness . . .” ~ Jesus

(John 15:26-27a ESV)

You also will bear witness . . . chew on that too!

The Helper will bear witness, because we are to bear witness. (Like I said, though spoken specifically to the Twelve, also intended for us).

Thus, we need a world-changer, because, within our time and place, we are meant to be world-changers. Testifying through our walk and by our words — as we seek to live in a manner worthy of our calling (Eph. 4:1) — to the reality of sin, and of the true standard and only source of righteousness, and of the judgment already rendered against “the ruler of this world” and the bondage he brings through sin and death (Jn. 16:9-10).

Advantage, us! But not just for us. For the world around us.

We are meant to be channels of power not just cisterns. Acting as rivers of Living Water not reservoirs. A great mission creating a great need met only through the coming alongside of a great Helper.

A Helper who imparts great grace. All for the glory of a great God.

Advantage, us!

Amen?

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The God of the Good Life

All Job really wanted was to go back. To go back to the good old days. Back to the “then” before now.

Back to when his children were all around him (Job 29:5). Back to when “everything was going my way, and nothing seemed too difficult” (Job 29:6 MSG), when “my steps were washed with butter” (ESV). The days when he commanded respect from all those he encountered (Job 29:7-10) — and not because he demanded it, but because he deserved it (Job 29:12-13, 15-17). The days when his righteousness and his pursuit of justice were evident and counted for something (Job 29:14).

Yeah, all Job wanted was to go back to those days when God was watching over him.

And Job again took up his discourse, and said:

“Oh, that I were as in the months of old,
     as in the days when God watched over me,
when His lamp shone upon my head,
     and by His light I walked through darkness,
as I was in my prime,
     when the friendship of God was upon my tent,
when the Almighty was yet with me.

(Job 29:1-5a ESV)

The days when God watched over me . . . That’s what I’m chewing on this morning.

When God watched . . . Literally, when He kept, guarded, gave heed, and observed. The days when God knew what was going on and engaged with what was going on. And for Job, God’s watch was known by the ease and joy and blessings Job experienced along life’s way. For Job, God was being God when he was the God of the good life.

But we know what’s going on behind the curtain (Job 1:1-2:10). Talk about engaged! God’s engaged! Boasting before heaven about His servant Job — the Creator confident of Job’s character. Butting heads with Satan (if that’s even an appropriate word picture to use) about the depths of His servant’s fidelity — the sovereign Advocate allowing the enemy to mess with Job’s life this much and yet not a hair more. Oh, God’s watching.

But Job’s not picking up that heaven is looking down. So much loss, so much sorrow, so much suffering. These days feel nothing like the months of old when God watched. If this was the friendship of God, then what a painful friendship it was. Job longed to experience again the God of the good life.

I’m not faulting Job. Not looking down my nose thinking, “How could he?” Nope. I think I get it . . . at least to some degree.

But what God wants Job to know, and what He reminds me of this morning, is that it’s not about seeing God only in the good life but about knowing the good God in all of life. When, by faith, we know He’s near even when we can’t feel Him. When we trust that all things are under His control even though they are so obviously out of control. When we find a peace that passes understanding because we believe His promise that all things (yes, all things) really are working together for good — at the very least (which is the absolute most), the good of being conformed into the likeness of our risen Redeemer. When after the fire, we look over our shoulder and know afresh that He has been faithful.

The God of the good life. Good because it is life lived trusting in a God who is good.

Only by His grace. Always for His glory.

All my life You have been faithful
All my life You have been so, so good
With every breath that I am able
Oh, I will sing of the goodness of God.

(Have a couple of extra minutes? Click here to enjoy the Isaac’s version of the song.)

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Hidden Manna

It wasn’t easy being them. The church at Pergamum had nasty neighbors. They lived “where Satan’s throne is”. They walked the streets “where Satan dwells”. To stand fast for their faith could cost them their lives (Rev. 2:13).

In a sense, I wonder if we couldn’t think of this counter-cultural congregation as being under siege where, with the world in which they lived, friendship, food, and fleshly pleasures were pretty sparse. So perhaps it’s not surprising that some stumbled as they were wooed by “the teaching of Balaam”, ready to hang out at tables were idol-meats were served and sexual immorality was practiced (Rev. 2:14). But Jesus says to His church, “Repent” (Rev. 2:16). Make a U-turn. Do a 180. Though you hunger now “where Satan dwells”, know that what awaits is hidden manna.

“He who has an ear, let him hear what the Spirit says to the churches. To the one who conquers I will give some of the hidden manna, and I will give him a white stone, with a new name written on the stone that no one knows except the one who receives it.”

(Revelation 2:27 ESV)

Hidden manna . . . What is this hidden manna?

I think of manna and it was anything but hidden (Numbers 11). Showed up every morning, six days a week. Sustenance in the wilderness. Sufficient for getting to the promised land. So, what is this hidden manna promised for those who conquer, for those who refuse meat sacrificed to idols?

Then Moses said, “This is what the LORD has commanded: Fill a two-quart container with manna to preserve it for your descendants. Then later generations will be able to see the food I gave you in the wilderness when I set you free from Egypt.” Moses said to Aaron, “Get a jar and fill it with two quarts of manna. Then put it in a sacred place before the LORD to preserve it for all future generations.” Aaron did just as the LORD had commanded Moses. He eventually placed it in the Ark of the Covenant—in front of the stone tablets inscribed with the terms of the covenant.

(Exodus 16:32-34 NLT)

Is this the hidden manna? Bread from heaven kept before the LORD preserved for all future generations. Bread found in the holy of holies. Bread from where the glory of God dwells. Bread which Jesus said pointed to Himself (Jn. 6:35-41).

Is Jesus the hidden manna? I’m thinkin’ . . .

Say “no” to the teaching of Balaam, stand firm in the siege, pass on what’s sacrificed to idols, and know the reality of feeding on the hidden manna. Our union with Christ our access to the holy of holies, to the place where the glory dwells, where the manna is preserved, where food for the soul is available. And that food is Jesus Himself.

“Do not work for the food that perishes, but for the food that endures to eternal life, which the Son of Man will give to you. For on Him God the Father has set His seal.”

“I am the bread of life.”

“As the living Father sent Me, and I live because of the Father, so whoever feeds on Me, he also will live because of Me. This is the bread that came down from heaven, not like the bread the fathers ate, and died. Whoever feeds on this bread will live forever.”

~ Jesus (John 6:27, 48, 57-58 ESV)

Hidden manna . . . chew on it.

By His grace. For His glory.

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Wooed in the Wilderness

A “wife of whoredom.” Who’s entering that into the search criteria in their dating app? “Unfaithful.” “Often doesn’t come home at night.” “Likely to ignore the kids.” No one’s swiping right on those descriptors.

Cue Hosea. Told by God to live out the most costly of object lessons.

“Go, take to yourself a wife of whoredom and have children of whoredom, for the land commits great whoredom by forsaking the LORD.”

(Hosea 1:2 ESV)

Slow and down and chew on the first three chapters of Hosea and how do you not finish reading them and say to yourself, “Crazy!” Cause that’s what it is for a man to wittingly and willfully take as his bride “a wife of whoredom.”

What grace. What patience. What hurt. What persistence. What love. Behold our God.

‘Cause in this storyline, we ain’t Hosea. If we’re honest with ourselves, we’re more like Gomer — drawn to playing the field with idols of all kinds.

And here’s the thing that jumped off the page this morning; God will intervene with judgment to remove our idols so that He might woo us to Himself in the wilderness.

“Therefore I will hedge up her way with thorns,
       and I will build a wall against her,
       so that she cannot find her paths.

She shall pursue her lovers
       but not overtake them,
and she shall seek them
       but shall not find them.
Then she shall say,
       ‘I will go and return to my first husband,
       for it was better for me then than now.'” . . .

“Therefore, behold, I will allure her,
       and bring her into the wilderness,
       and speak tenderly to her.”

(Hosea 2:6-7, 14 ESV)

Behold, the way of God towards a bride prone to wander. Hedge her up and bring her into the wilderness. And for what purpose? To speak tenderly to her.

The work God began in Israel He would fulfill in Israel. Yet, even as He redeemed a people from the bondage of slavery to be His people, He was fully aware that she had a propensity for unfaithfulness. But though she frequently faltered with being faithless, yet “He remains faithful — for He cannot deny Himself” (2Tim. 2:13).

And so, “the Lord disciplines the one He loves” (Heb. 12:6-8). God hedges up His bride with thorns. He builds a wall against her so that, though she lustfully seeks to pursue her lovers, she can’t find them. And He takes her into the wilderness.

Into the wilderness. Not to the woodshed. She can’t pay the debt she owes, only He can do that. But she can return — and the wilderness has a way of reminding idolatrous wanderers of the way home. Coming to her senses, a wayward bride can realize afresh that “it was better for me then than now” and again give her Bridegroom her face and not her back. So, even though she has been treacherous, He will speak tenderly. He will woo her in the wilderness.

I don’t have much of a liking for the wilderness. But I know that whether I think “I deserve it” or not, it’s where I’ve often known His allure, where I’ve again heard again His gentle whisper, where I’ve been ready to clearly pick up on “the voice of my beloved” (Song 2:8) as He beckons (again and again), “Come home. Come to Me. Abide in Me.”

If we’ll receive it, the prize through our sin and in our suffering is Jesus, only Jesus.

For He seeks to woo us in the wilderness.

By His grace. For His glory.

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Guess Who Might Be Coming to Dinner?

Honestly, don’t you think we might be more motivated on Sunday mornings if, instead of pushing ourselves out the door to “go to church”, we instead rushed out to get to the “love feast”? That instead of trying to look forward to sitting shoulder-to-shoulder in chairs or pews, we instead anticipated sitting face-to-face around a table? While welcoming another opportunity to listen to a message by a single man, we also relished the chance to get caught up on the lives of our spiritual family? And all this as a build up to the “main course”, the bread and the wine, both “to faith the solemn sign” reminding us “of love divine” (Horatius Bonar, “For the Bread and For the Wine”, mid-1800’s)? Yeah, I can only imagine what Jude envisioned as he talked about “your love feasts.”

But Jude is writing about love feasts because guess who might be coming to dinner?

These people blaspheme all that they do not understand, and they are destroyed by all that they, like unreasoning animals, understand instinctively. Woe to them! For they walked in the way of Cain and abandoned themselves for the sake of gain to Balaam’s error and perished in Korah’s rebellion. These are hidden reefs on your love feasts, as they feast with you without fear, looking after themselves; waterless clouds, swept along by winds; fruitless trees in late autumn, twice dead, uprooted; wild waves of the sea, casting up the foam of their own shame; wandering stars, for whom the gloom of utter darkness has been reserved forever. . .

These are grumblers, malcontents, following their own sinful desires; they are loud-mouthed boasters, showing favoritism to gain advantage.

(Jude 10-13, 16 ESV)

Hidden reefs on your love feasts . . . That’s what I’m chewing on this morning.

Jude was pretty clear as to why he wrote this letter. It was because he “found it necessary to write appealing to you to contend for the faith” (Jude 3). And as you read on, it’s not just about standing firm against those on the outside — guess who might be coming to dinner?

Those who blaspheme, not really knowing what they’re talking about. Those who walk in the jealous, vengeful anger of Cain. Those who, like Balaam, compromise their moral compass for the sake of gain. Those inside the camp who, like Korah, yield to rebellion. People in our midst who are really in it for themselves.

Waterless clouds . . . fruitless trees . . . wild waves . . . wandering stars.

Grumblers . . . and malcontents . . . and loud-mouthed boasters . . . oh my!

Though there on a Sunday morning, these are not the faithful but those showing favoritism to gain advantage.

Guess who might be coming to dinner? Hidden reefs on your love feasts.

So, am I to be searching for heretics in the seats around me? Seeking to call out those who I think may “have crept in unnoticed” (Jude 4)? I don’t think so.

Instead, I am to contend for the faith. To test what is true (1Jn. 4:1). To become so familiar with the real, authentic thing that the counterfeit thing will expose itself. And then, I am to love at the love feast. Embracing brothers and sisters as together, by the leading of the Spirit, we worship the Son, to the glory of the Father.

While I need to be wary of who may be coming to dinner, I need not worry — for “God’s firm foundation stands, bearing this seal: “The Lord knows those who are His” (2Tim. 2:19). While not a troubled worrier at the love feast, I should purpose to be a “true worshiper”, one who worships “in spirit and truth” (Jn. 4:23-24). Not nervous but not naïve either.

By His grace. For His glory.

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There’s a Kingdom for the Saints

If you ever read Daniel, you know it’s true. You go from chapter six to chapter seven and it’s like someone has thrown a switch. One moment you’re in the world of Sunday School stories, the next you’re at a prophecy conference. Dreams and fiery furnaces and lions’ dens suddenly give way to beasts and horns and battles, oh my! Simple math gives way to calculus. No wonder Daniel, after receiving his own set of dreams to interpret, is “in shock . . . like a man who had seen a ghost” (Dan. 7:28 MSG). No wonder he “walked around in a daze, unwell for days” (Dan. 8:27 MSG).

So, maybe I don’t feel so bad if, after reading Daniel 7 and 8 this morning, my head’s spinning a bit too.

But while there might be some stuff here that’s hard to understand, there’s some stuff that’s actually pretty clear. If the first part of Daniel wanted to drive home the point that “the Most High God rules the kingdom of mankind and sets over it whom He will” (Dan. 4:17, 4:25, 4:32, 5:21), then it seems part 2 of Daniel wants me to focus on a pretty clear message as well, that there’s a kingdom for the saints.

“As for me, Daniel, my spirit within me was anxious, and the visions of my head alarmed me. I approached one of those who stood there and asked him the truth concerning all this. So he told me and made known to me the interpretation of the things. ‘These four great beasts are four kings who shall arise out of the earth. But the saints of the Most High shall receive the kingdom and possess the kingdom forever, forever and ever.‘”

(Daniel 7:15-18 ESV)

The saints of the Most High shall receive the kingdom and possess the kingdom forever, forever and ever . . . Chew on that a bit. And keep chewin’ — ’cause it’s repeated two more times in this opening salvo of mind-stretching prophecy (Dan. 7:22, 7:27).

We’re gonna receive a kingdom. We’re gonna be part of a reign. There’s a lot we may not know exactly about what happens between now and then, but we know there’s a kingdom for the saints. And this isn’t it!

For all our political posturing, for all our “salt and light” aspiring, for all our “Your kingdom come”-ing, this ain’t it yet. But it IS coming. The saints of the Most High SHALL receive the kingdom.

So, while our heads may spin, and our stomachs might churn as we try and figure out what’s going on in this world, let’s, like Daniel, “be about the King’s business” (Dan. 8:27).

Because the day is soon approaching and there’s a kingdom for the saints.

By His grace. For His glory.

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One of the Exiles

You’d think that after 65+ years in the land, he’d be recognized as one of them. That after being trained among the king’s elite; after having risen meteorically within the king’s courts; after being retained as a top official by not just one, but two subsequent kings, that he’d no longer be referred to as if he were an outsider. Well, evidently, he still was.

I’m reading in Daniel 6 this morning. It’s a new era in Babylon. The Medes, having overthrown the Chaldeans (Dan. 5:30), are now running the show. Darius, the new king, puts in place his administration — 120 governors to provide regional rule under the oversight of three high officials, “of whom Daniel was one” (Dan. 6:1-2). Not bad for a kid from Judea.

But this kid from Judea was no longer a kid. If he was in his mid to late teens when first brought to Babylon, the dude is now in his 80’s. But still going strong. Still serving at the highest levels of government. And, as pops for me this morning as I read, still “one of the exiles.”

Then they answered and said before the king, “Daniel, who is one of the exiles from Judah, pays no attention to you, O king, or the injunction you have signed, but makes his petition three times a day.”

(Daniel 6:13 ESV)

One of the exiles . . . One of them, not one of us. A neighbor, but not a native. A foreigner, not really from around these parts.

Come on! After over six decades, you’d think he’d be a little more assimilated, a little more accepted. Like I said before, evidently not.

This is the third time Daniel’s been referred to like this in the book that bears his name. Once for every king. When King Nebuchadnezzar gets a bit grumpy over a bad dream, it’s Daniel, “found among the exiles”, who’s brought before him to make known the dream and its interpretation (Dan. 2:25). When King Belshazzar gets a bit loopy and starts to see the writing on the wall (literally), it’s Daniel, “one of the exiles from Judah”, who is called to read the writing and translate it (Dan. 5:13). And, under King Darius, when Daniel’s peers get a bit crafty and seek to submarine Daniel’s promotion “over the whole kingdom” (Dan. 6:3b) by feeding him to the lions for praying to his God (Dan. 6:11-12), he’s still referred to as “one of the exiles.”

Hmm . . . I read that and it sticks (not just with him but with me). But then I read this and it makes sense.

Then, at break of day, the king arose and went in haste to the den of lions. As he came near to the den where Daniel was, he cried out in a tone of anguish. The king declared to Daniel, “O Daniel, servant of the living God, has your God, whom you serve continually, been able to deliver you from the lions?”

(Daniel 6:19-20 ESV)

After almost seven decades in Babylon, how did Daniel remain distinctively “one of the exiles”? Though he was singled out by king after king after king, he never ceased distinguishing himself also as a servant of the living God. Though in Babylon he sought “the welfare of the city” (Jer. 29:7), he never stopped serving His God continually. Thus, Daniel would always be known as one of the exiles.

Though Daniel was in the world, he was not of the world (John 17:13-14). Though he faithfully stewarded his talents well in the world’s system, he didn’t fall in love with the world’s ways or the world’s things (1John 2:15-16). If he had he would have lost his distinctiveness as “the light of the world” (Matt. 5:14), as a servant of the living God, the Creator of the world.

One of the exiles . . . even after a lifetime in a foreign land.

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

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