Let’s Not Wait Until “Things Change”

I know one of “those guys.” He’s a dear brother, a faithful servant, but when it came to that “joke”, he was one of “those guys.” You might have met one of those guys, as well. You know, the guy when asked the last time he told his wife he loved her, tilts his head a bit, cracks a grin, and says something like, “I told my wife I loved her on our wedding day and that if things ever changed, I’d let her know! Ha, ha, ha!” Yuck! Don’t be one of those guys.

So why does that guy come to mind this morning? Because I’m gripped by the opening words of a song written by another guy.

I love You, O LORD, my strength.

(Psalm 18:1 ESV)

When’s the last time you told the LORD you loved Him? Hope it wasn’t on the day you were saved.

Though I love You, are the first words of verse 1, they aren’t the first words of Psalm 18. Instead, they follow this introduction to the song:

To the choirmaster. A Psalm of David, the servant of the LORD, who addressed the words of this song to the LORD on the day when the LORD rescued him from the hand of all his enemies, and from the hand of Saul. He said:

On the day when the LORD rescued David from the hand of all his enemies, David said: “I love You, O LORD, my strength.” Makes sense. Seems like a good thing to express to the One who delivered you from all your enemies. Seems fitting to be fashioned into a song. Seems appropriate to write the song with a choir in mind. Guessing it was sung often. Perhaps every time another enemy encountered was another enemy defeated by the LORD, my strength.

The LORD who heard my voice when I cried to Him in distress (18:6). The LORD who “took me” and “drew me out of many waters” (18:16). The One who supported me “in the day of my calamity” (18:18). The LORD who “brought me into a broad place”; who “rescued me, because He delighted in me” (18:19). The LORD who “rewarded me according to my righteousness” (18:24) — the righteousness He credited to me by faith. The LORD who loved me. To that LORD, David sings, “I love You!”

We love because He first loved us.

(1John 4:19 ESV)

In my King James Bible days, I learned it as “We love Him because He first loved us.” For David, for sure, He loved the LORD because the LORD, his rock and his fortress and his deliver (18:2), had so powerfully and faithfully first loved him. And David wrote a song so that other people would also sing, “I love You, O LORD” — for He had already loved them too.

Reminds me of another song (we called it a “chorus” back in the day) that never ceased to stir me from the inside out. Still does.

I love you, Lord
And I lift my voice
To worship You
Oh, my soul, rejoice!

Take joy my King
In what You hear
Let it be a sweet, sweet sound
In Your ear

Laurie Klein © 1978 House of Mercy Music

So, let the redeemed sing. Let the rescued sound off. Regardless of the enemies we face today, let us sing to the LORD who has already and so wondrously first loved us.

Let’s not wait until “things change.” But may we often and earnestly offer to heaven our melody from earth, “I love You, LORD.”

By His grace. For His glory.

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A Lesser-Known Name

“I’ll take lesser-known names for God for 500, Alex.” (I’m hoping we still remember who Alex is).

“The answer is, Psalm 17:7.”

“Where is God referred to as ‘Savior of those who seek refuge?'”

Correct.

Wondrously show Your steadfast love, O Savior of those who seek refuge from their adversaries at Your right hand.

(Psalm 17:7 ESV)

Hovering over Psalm 17 this morning. Another prayer of David. Another plea for vindication (17:2). But it’s the phrasing in verse 7 that captures my thoughts this morning — a way of referring to God that, for me at least, would be lesser-known, yet greatly needed.

I’m aware of Jehovah-Jireh, The Lord Will Provide (Gen. 22:14), Jehovah-Nissi, The Lord My Banner (Ex. 17:15), and Jehovah-Shalom, The Lord My Peace (Jud. 6:24). Familiar with Jehovah-Tsidkenu, The Lord Our Righteousness (Jer. 23:6), Jehovah-Rapha, The Lord Who Heals (Ex. 15:26) and, of course, Jehovah-Raah, The Lord My Shepherd (Ps. 23:1). But Yasha-Chacah, Savior of those who seek refuge? Not so much.

But if you were to ask me if I’ve experienced that Name before, you bet!

My God is the Savior of those who seek refuge — of those who trust in Him to deliver them from their enemies, who by faith have stationed themselves through Christ at God’s right hand of majesty and power. Been there done that.

The first adversary defeated? Death. A close second? The bondage of sin. And then start adding to the list. For every problem and persecutor, in every storm and through every stumble, whether facing difficulties or detractors, for those who seek refuge, He is Savior.

For those who flee for protection, He is Rescuer. For those who determine to rest at His right hand, He is Deliverer. For those who trust in the God who has promised to wondrously show His steadfast love, He is Preserver.

And, as I’m reminded every Sunday morning by my church, it’s not just the enemies from without from which He delivers, but those that I am well capable of creating and ceding to from within. When I’m weary and need rest. When I mourn and long for comfort. When I feel worthless and wonder if God even cares. When I fail and need strength. When I sin and need a Savior. Then too, He is the Savior of those who seek refuge. For, as we remind ourselves at the opening of every service, Jesus is . . .

The ally of His enemies,
The defender of the guilty,
The justifier of the inexcusable,
The friend of sinners.

So, maybe a lesser-known name, but it’s a greatly appreciated reminder. He is Savior of those who seek refuge.

By His grace. For His glory.

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An Observation Worth Observing

Not every observation I make in the Scriptures turns immediately into an application. Nevertheless, making the observation is important, I think — it gives the Holy Spirit something to work with. This morning, it’s an observation about prayer.

Prayer’s one of my “hot topics” that I keep an eye open for when I read in the morning. When I encounter something about prayer, or someone praying, or a prayer itself I’ll shade it with my purple colored-pencil. Not because I have prayer figured out and need the reinforcement, but because I still so struggle with prayer and need the encouragement. This morning, it’s a pretty simple observation, Peter knelt down and prayed.

Context? The death of a disciple of Jesus, a woman known as Tabitha. She was well-regarded and highly-esteemed among the company of believers, known as a woman who “was full of goods works and acts of charity” (Act 9:36). But she became ill and died. Her friends and family in Christ, however, were not ready to let her go. They heard Peter was in the neighborhood and that where Peter went mighty miracles were present (Acts 9:32-35). So, they call for Peter. And so, Peter comes. He arrives and they take him to see her body “lying in state” in an upper room. Next to Peter, looking upon Tabitha’s lifeless body, are those mourning her loss.

But Peter put them all outside, and knelt down and prayed; and turning to the body he said, “Tabitha, arise.” And she opened her eyes, and when she saw Peter she sat up. And he gave her his hand and raised her up. Then calling the saints and widows, he presented her alive. And it became known throughout all Joppa, and many believed in the Lord.

(Acts 9:40-42 ESV)

Standing before the lifeless body of someone now “away from the body and at home with the Lord” (2Cor. 5:8), Peter is prompted by the Spirit to pray. I think Peter knew that with the power he had been given to do signs among the people in order to authenticate the salvation found only in Jesus, that raising Tabitha from the dead was a possibility. But that he could didn’t necessarily mean he should. And so, he prayed. Prompted by the Spirit, he had a conversation with the Father about knowing the mind of the Son.

But what I also notice is that he knelt down and prayed. Not only is his process for seeking the mind of Christ mentioned, but his posture as well.

There’s no one else in the room. Peter’s alone. So, he’s not doing it to be an example to others of the need to humble yourself in the sight of the Lord (James 4:10 NKJV). No, the only one present in this sacred, upper room prayer closet is the “Father who is in secret”, “your Father who sees in secret” (Mt. 6:6). And on such a matter, as to whether or not to bring the dead to life again, Peter is compelled to kneel down and pray.

There’s something about kneeling and praying to be observed here. Not a formula necessarily, but a form which I’m thinking should be noted. Not a “to do” to always be done, but a way of seeking God’s will which should not be discarded and perhaps more often deployed.

There’s a time to pray, and there’s a time to pray on our knees. 

Like I said, not that we must always be on our knees, but I am led to probe, “Am I ever on my knees?” Not just out of self-disciplined compliance, but because I am sensitive to a Spirit-prompted compulsion?

Peter knelt down and prayed. Just him in a room, along with a great need and uncertain what to do. Aware that if he were to do something, it couldn’t be done in his own power and without earnest petition.

Hmm . . . worth observing. Worth applying in some manner.

Work with it, Spirit.

Show me, Lord.

By Your grace. For Your glory.

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A One Word Prayer of Faith

Where is it? I don’t see it. But I’m pretty sure Paul was a saved man, so it’s gotta be there. He was born again, and so he must have said it. Come on! It’s gotta be there!

What’s the it I’m looking for? Where am I looking for it? It is “the sinners prayer” and I’m looking for it in Acts 9. ‘Cause you gotta think that the guy who ended up writing the most on what it means to be saved must have said the prayer in order to be saved himself. That the one who writes so much about sin and confession and repentance must have prayed “the prayer” we so often think needs to be prayed in order to be saved by grace alone through faith alone. So, as I read Paul’s conversion experience this morning, I find myself asking, “Where’s the prayer of faith?”

Maybe it’s not there. But, really? Perhaps one of the most significant conversions in history, and no prayer of contrition and confession and consecration? Or maybe he prayed it after the encounter on the road when, as a blind man, he prayed at the house of Judas (ironic?) as he processed what had happened on the road to Damascus (Acts 9:11). Or maybe, just maybe, it was one of the first word’s out of his mouth. Maybe it was just one word. And maybe, as much as the one word, it was found in his humble posture.

But Saul, still breathing threats and murder against the disciples of the Lord, went to the high priest and asked him for letters to the synagogues at Damascus, so that if he found any belonging to the Way, men or women, he might bring them bound to Jerusalem. Now as he went on his way, he approached Damascus, and suddenly a light from heaven shone around him. And falling to the ground he heard a voice saying to him, “Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting Me?” And he said, “Who are you, Lord?” And He said, “I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting.”

(Acts 9:1-5 ESV)

Lord. Is that the prayer I’m looking for? Falling to the ground. Is that the posture which I need to see? That’s what I’m chewing on this morning.

Not to use my experience as the arbiter of Holy Scripture, but I never prayed the prayer either. Though a friend had been sharing the gospel with me for a number of weeks, not sure how much I could have shared it back. But what I do know is that when I prayed that first feeble prayer, it began with “Lord.” I kind of knew that much. That if Jesus was anything or anybody, He was Lord.

And I’m wondering if that wasn’t Paul’s “moment of conversion” — the moment when Paul fell before Jesus, who in His sovereign purposes and grace determined to be revealed to Paul, and Paul addressed Him as “Lord.”

The original word can be used to address anyone who a person deems themselves to belong to, toward anyone who has the power of deciding and directing one’s life. The term a servant would use when speaking of, or to their master. The title one would adopt into their vocabulary when realizing that they were no longer their own.

Paul would have a lot to learn about the divine dynamics of how Jesus could be His Savior, but at that moment, when it pleased the Christ to open Paul’s eyes just before he shut them for three days, Paul knew that Jesus was Lord.

Falling to the ground. Facedown on the ground before the risen Messiah. Uttering with heartfelt sincerity (even when we don’t have mind-filled clarity), Lord. Doesn’t that sound like a pretty legit sinner’s prayer? I’m thinkin’ . . .

Not just the prayer to get saved, but the prayer for being saved. Not just a once-in-the-past confession which punches our ticket to heaven someday, but a day-by-day, moment-by-moment, heart attitude that allows us to live out the kingdom of heaven here and now.

Let’s not minimize the power to save of a one word prayer of faith — fitting to be spoken in almost any and every situation — which utters with sincerity and humility, “Lord.”

. . . because, if you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised Him from the dead, you will be saved. 

(Romans 10:9 ESV)

By His grace alone. For His glory alone.

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The Only “We”

It’s not so much about a condition, but more about character. Not a quid pro quo — I’ll do so that You’ll do — but more of a “because You have done, how can I not?” It’s the only “we do” in a passage of petitions dominated by “do for us.” It’s the only ask with an explanation. It’s forgiveness.

Pray then like this: “Our Father in heaven, hallowed be Your name.
Your kingdom come, Your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread,
and forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors.
And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.

For if you forgive others their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you, but if you do not forgive others their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses.” ~ Jesus

(Matthew 6:9-15 ESV)

Pretty familiar passage, I’m guessing. There’s praise, hallowed be Your name. There’s aligning ourselves to the promise, Your kingdom come. Then, comes the petitions; give us . . . forgive us . . . lead us not . . . deliver us. Thus, says Jesus, so should you pray. But to quote from that great teacher, Sesame Street, “One of these things is not like the others.”

Forgive us comes with a condition. It’s the only part of the prayer which Jesus deems needful of a following commentary.

“. . . forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors. . . For if you forgive others their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you . . . “

We know Jesus isn’t talking here about the forgiveness which saves. That forgiveness is a gift. It is independent of any work on our behalf. God’s forgiveness of the penalty owed for our sin is by grace alone through faith alone (Eph. 2:8-9). So, what is Jesus talking about? If it’s not “salvational” forgiveness, then what is it? I’m thinking it’s “relational” forgiveness.

Is the degree to which God is able to be in fellowship with those who have sinned against Him impacted by the degree to which they are willing to forgive and be in fellowship with those who have sinned against them? I’m thinkin’. After all, isn’t reconciliation the purpose of forgiveness? Forgiveness is not, first and foremost, about us “letting go” or about us un-shouldering a burden of bitterness. Sure, it has that therapeutic value, forgiveness is necessary in order to move on. But at its core, the purpose of forgiveness is restoration of relationship.

So, Jesus says we need to pray for God’s on-going grace and forgiveness of our debts so that our fellowship with Him might remain strong. But Jesus also says that to expect fellowship with the Father when we are unwilling to forgive and re-establish fellowship with our brother, or our sister, is not how it works. We are to forgive as we have been forgiven (Eph. 5:32, Col. 3:13). Not forgiving others is going to impact our fellowship with the Father.

” . . . but if you do not forgive others their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses.”

Forgiving our debtors is going to impact the blessing of being forgiven our debts. Sure, we’ll still be children, but children in a measure of “timeout” in the corner. We’re still his servants, but servants at a distance.

Then his master summoned him and said to him, ‘You wicked servant! I forgave you all that debt because you pleaded with me. And should not you have had mercy on your fellow servant, as I had mercy on you?’ And in anger his master delivered him to the jailers, until he should pay all his debt. So also My heavenly Father will do to every one of you, if you do not forgive your brother from your heart.” ~ Jesus

(Matthew 18:32-35 ESV)

Hear again Jesus’s model of prayer . . .

. . . and forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors.

It’s the only “we” in a prayer full of petitions for “us”. The only condition in a model of how to show appropriate contrition. The only commentary expanding on the dynamics of divine relationship.

Worth chewing on, I think.

By His grace. For His glory.

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Like Father, Like Sons

God’s first covenantal people received a Law given to them from a mountain in Sinai. God’s people of the new covenant received a law from a mount (probably more of a hill) somewhere in Galilee. God’s servant, Moses, was the mediator of the first; God’s Son, the giver of the second. The first was given so that God’s people might know how to live as a set apart people in a foreign land they would eventually possess. The second, so that God’s people might know how to live as born-again people in the kingdom of heaven which had already come but was yet to be fully realized. The first dealt a lot with external actions befitting sanctified people, the second focused more on the hearts and attitudes of Spirit-filled, Spirit-empowered people. And as I hover over a few verses from what is commonly referred to as Jesus’ sermon on the mount, I’m reminded this morning of the old adage, “Like Father, like son.”

The well-known proverb simply conveys the often-true observation that a son’s character or behavior can be expected to resemble that of his father. That daughter’s often grow up thinking and acting a lot like their mothers. That kids tend to imitate and replicate their parents. Mostly true? Sometimes true of the way of the children of men? I think so. But if I’m accurately picking up on what Jesus is actually laying down this morning, it is to always be true of the children of God.

“You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be sons of your Father who is in heaven. For He makes His sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust.” ~ Jesus

(Matthew 5:43-45 ESV)

When it comes to the family of God, wanna know how much one of the kids on earth is reflecting the heart and ways of their Father who is in heaven? See if they’re loving their enemies. Listen for them praying for those who persecute them. How’s that for “Like Father, like son”?

Jesus, THE Son, He who is the Christ, did, in fact, love and pray for His enemies (Jn. 12:47, Lk. 23:34). So too should those who are “in Christ.”

But it won’t be by our might, nor by our power, but only by His Spirit (Zec. 4:6). Because we’re not talking about a natural affection here, but a supernatural one. We’re not talking about the expected response to taking it in the teeth from someone — such as repaying evil for evil or reviling those who revile you — but an unexpected response (1Peter 2:23, 3:9).

Love your enemies. Pray for those who persecute you. Respond like your Father, so that others might know you are His children.

Big ask. Yeah, but big God.

Love my enemies. Pray for those who, according to the literal sense of the word, would threaten me, insult me, slander me, and even falsely accuse me. Really? Yeah, really.

Not how I’m naturally wired. True, but you’ve been supernaturally rewired (2Cor. 5:17).

I’m gonna fall short at times. Yes, but if you confess your sin He is faithful and just to forgive your sin (1Jn. 1:9). The blood of Christ, the power of the cross, covers the short falls and compels you towards obedience in the long run.

Okay, Lord. Love my enemies, pray for those who persecute me. Like Father, like sons. Like Father, like daughters.

Only by Your grace — the grace which is all-sufficient for overcoming the hindrances of the flesh, so that Your power might be made perfect in my weakness (2Cor. 12:7-9).

Only for Your glory — that it would reflect Your heart, the One who makes His sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust.

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Help!

You know that David’s song is evoked by a certain period of time. But as you read it over a couple of times, you also know it has to be prophetic of a future time.

It could have been written as a reflection of what it was like for David, God’s king-elect, when he was pursued by Saul, God’s king-reject, and what seemed like the entire Israeli nation. But the opening words of the psalm sound like they could have been written today amidst our crumbling culture. I remember once hearing someone say that paranoia is just smart thinking when everyone’s against you, but the songwriter reminds us that “Help!” is just smart praying when everything’s coming apart around you.

Save, O LORD, for the godly one is gone; for the faithful have vanished from among the children of man. Everyone utters lies to his neighbor; with flattering lips and a double heart they speak. May the LORD cut off all flattering lips, the tongue that makes great boasts, those who say, “With our tongue we will prevail, our lips are with us; who is master over us?”

(Psalm 12:1-4 ESV)

Save. That seems to be a pretty literal translation. Most other translations render it simply, Help!

As David is pursued, as his enemies seem many and his allies seem few, as the whole world seems increasingly intent on silencing his voice and removing him from contention for the throne, David prays a 9-1-1 prayer, “Help, LORD!” The godly are gone. The faithful have vanished. Fake news prevails as everyone utters lies. Flattery — literally, “slippery speech” — prevails. And hypocrisy, being double-hearted and two-faced, is the prevailing way of those among whom David was once felt a part. Help!

Ours is a culture which is increasingly godless. And faithfulness? Well faithfulness and loyalty to almost anything else has been supplanted by being only “true to yourself.” Truth is bankrupt in so many quarters as any transcendent ties to an objective basis for truth have been severed. Institutional authority is increasingly cast off as we refuse to be mastered by anyone or anything other than ourselves. And ourselves is increasingly defined by our lips and our words as we paint the picture of our truth on the canvas of social media. David’s time might well be a foreshadow of our time, aka the end times.

So whaddya gonna pray when godliness is gone and faithfulness a thing of the past? Yup . . . you got it . . . one word. “Help!”

And David’s song assures us that God hears that prayer.

“Because the poor are plundered, because the needy groan, I will now arise,” says the LORD; “I will place him in the safety for which he longs.” The words of the LORD are pure words, like silver refined in a furnace on the ground, purified seven times. You, O LORD, will keep them; you will guard us from this generation forever.

(Psalm 12:5-7)

God is not unaware of our post-modern, post-Christian, post-truth, post-post age. He hears the groans, and He says there is a day when “I will now arise.”

What’s more, safety is assured because the words of the LORD are pure words — they are faithful and true. In an age when everything else seems corrupt, God’s promises are like silver refined in a furnace on the ground, purified seven times. When faithfulness has vanished among men, God is faithful and will keep His word, fulfill His promises, and guard us from this generation forever. We pray, “Help”, He responds, “He am I.”

David would survive Saul’s persistent pursuit. More than that, he would thrive as he continually drew near to the LORD while continually being on the run from everyone else. He found high roads to walk (think of how he repeatedly spared Saul’s life, 1Samuel 24, 26), even as he trusted in the LORD to direct his path.

Sometimes it just comes down to a one word prayer, “Help!”

“Call to Me and I will answer you.”

(Jeremiah 33:3a ESV)

According to His all-sufficient and all-prevailing grace. Only for His all-deserving glory.

Even so, come Lord Jesus.

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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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