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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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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