Better Felt Than Tell’t

Finished my readings this morning with Psalm 100. Chewing on the last verse. Savoring the last thing read this morning.

Enter His gates with thanksgiving
and His courts with praise.
Give thanks to Him and bless His name.
For the Lord is good, and His faithful love endures forever;
His faithfulness, through all generations.

(Psalm 100:4-5 CSB)

Not much to say as I reflect and meditate on God’s goodness. As someone once told me years ago, “Sometimes things are better felt than tell’t.” Amen!

By His grace. For His glory.

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Pragmatism and Power

Chewing on King Saul this morning. Actually, he’s kind of gnawing on me.

First “aha”? Saul reigned as king longer than David did. Unlike my ESV, the CSB translators (along with the NASB and NIV translators) believe there’s a “typo” in the manuscripts they used for translation, so rather than talking about what Saul did after reigning “two years” (ESV, NKVJ), the CSB records that “he reigned forty-two years” (1Sam. 13:1) That’s in line with the inspired commentary found in the book of Acts (Acts 13:21).

So, Saul’s forty-two years on the throne surpassed David’s forty (1Ki. 2:11). Surprised me. Somehow Saul’s reign makes more of a “flash in the pan” impression on me than a generational era of leadership. Maybe that’s because things started going south for Saul relatively quickly after coming to power. And my observation this morning is that the little bit of leaven at the beginning of Saul’s reign, which would spread through the whole lump of his reign, was pragmatism.

Being pragmatic; we tend to view that as a good thing. After all who wouldn’t want to be known as being sensible, realistic, and practical? But when it comes to the things of God, when it comes to ways higher than our ways and thoughts higher than our thoughts (Isa. 55:8-9), maybe being practical is, at the end of the day, being sinful.

Case in point, 1Samuel 13 and Saul’s pragmatic approach to seeking the LORD’s favor.

The Philistines also gathered to fight against Israel: three thousand chariots, six thousand horsemen, and troops as numerous as the sand on the seashore. They went up and camped at Michmash, east of Beth-aven. . . .

Saul, however, was still at Gilgal, and all his troops were gripped with fear. He waited seven days for the appointed time that Samuel had set, but Samuel didn’t come to Gilgal, and the troops were deserting him. So Saul said, “Bring me the burnt offering and the fellowship offerings.” Then he offered the burnt offering.

Just as he finished offering the burnt offering, Samuel arrived. So Saul went out to greet him, and Samuel asked, “What have you done?”

Saul answered, “When I saw that the troops were deserting me and you didn’t come within the appointed days and the Philistines were gathering at Michmash, I thought, ‘The Philistines will now descend on me at Gilgal, and I haven’t sought the Lord’s favor.’ So I forced myself to offer the burnt offering.”

(1Samuel 13:5, 7-12 CSB)

Situation desperate. Soldiers terrified. Lord’s presence needed. Samuel running late. What’s a commander-in-chief to do? Well, because he’s the commander-in-chief, pretty much anything he thinks is necessary. Whatever’s practically needed. “Bring me the burnt offering!” says Saul. “What have you done?” says Samuel.

He was just being pragmatic.

But pragmatism has a way of placing oneself at the top of the food chain, putting our wisdom over God’s ways, doing what’s realistic over doing what’s right. Thus, pragmatism has a way of introducing a slippery slope when what’s sensible is contrary to what God has said. Chart Saul’s life and his “I know best” attitude and the resulting disregard for the priesthood, manifested in “just” the sacrifice of what only a priest should sacrifice, eventually devolves to the point where he slaughters a whole city of priests themselves, “both men and women, infants and nursing babies, oxen, donkeys, and sheep” (1Sam. 22:11-19). Pragmatism and power, it seems, can be a nitro and glycerin combination.

Later, after another act of disobedience by King Saul, Samuel would ask him, “Does the LORD take pleasure in burnt offerings and sacrifices as much as in obeying the LORD? Look: to obey is better than sacrifice.” (1Sam. 15:22). And, I’m thinking, to obey is better than pragmatism.

After all, what makes sense about a King who would bear a cross before donning His crown? How realistic is it to save the world with a message the world considers foolishness? How practical is it to run an institution where the greatest of all is a servant of all or were the first shall be last and last will be first? How pragmatic is it to bet on our strength being realized in our weakness? Not very!

But oh, how it displays the purposes and power of God.

Amen?

By His grace. For His glory.

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Even More Glorious

It was becoming an either / or proposition within the church. This town wasn’t big enough for the both of them. Corinth wasn’t big enough for the apostle Paul and the “super” (aka false) apostles (aka Judaizers). Someone had to go. Many in the Corinth church thought that someone should be Paul. Paul determined he wasn’t going without contending for the Corinthians’ affection.

But for Paul it wasn’t just a popularity thing, it was a divine dynamics thing. It wasn’t about Paul being accepted; it was about the way of the Spirit being embraced. And so, at the heart of this most personal of Paul’s letters is the glory of the gospel and his desire that it be even more glorious.

Are we beginning to commend ourselves again? Or do we need, like some, letters of recommendation to you or from you? You yourselves are our letter, written on our hearts, known and read by everyone. You show that you are Christ’s letter, delivered by us, not written with ink but with the Spirit of the living God — not on tablets of stone but on tablets of human hearts.

(2Corinthians 3:1-3 CSB)

Paul wasn’t going to “sell himself” again. He wasn’t going back to trying to gain their confidence nor earn their trust. They were the living proof of his legitimate calling. They were Paul’s letter of commendation because they were Christ’s letter testifying of a new covenant, a new way for God to be among His people and for His people to dwell in His midst. They were a letter not written with ink which perishes and fades, but with the Spirit of the living God who abides forever. A letter not written on tablets of stone as Moses had brought down from the mount but written on tablets of human hearts by the One who was raised from the dead. And Paul springboards from this thought of tablets of stone vs. tablets of human hearts as he reminds them of his ministry and contends for the glory of the gospel.

[God] has made us competent to be ministers of a new covenant, not of the letter, but of the Spirit. For the letter kills, but the Spirit gives life.

Now if the ministry that brought death, chiseled in letters on stones, came with glory, so that the Israelites were not able to gaze steadily at Moses’s face because of its glory, which was set aside, how will the ministry of the Spirit not be more glorious? For if the ministry that brought condemnation had glory, the ministry that brings righteousness overflows with even more glory. In fact, what had been glorious is not glorious now by comparison because of the glory that surpasses it. For if what was set aside was glorious, what endures will be even more glorious.

(2Corinthians 3:6-11 CSB)

Many in the church, it would seem, were being persuaded by smooth talking, Paul slandering “apostles” of the way of Moses. Speaking of a way that sounded good, because, for its time and purpose, it was good. A way of glory because the glory shone through the face of Moses, the man who delivered it. But Paul reminds these Corinthians that what had happened to them when they received the greater Moses, Jesus, was more glorious . . . overflowing with even more glory . . . making the way of Moses now inglorious in comparison because of the glory that surpasses it . . . thus setting aside the way of Moses with the way of the Spirit, a way that endures forever and will be even more glorious.

Glory . . . glorious. More glory . . . even more glorious. The glory of the gospel. That’s what Paul cared about most.

The church’s response and rejection of Paul was more in line with tablets of stone. But Paul contended for them because what he wanted to prevail was the glory of the good news that had been written on tablets of human hearts. The glorious, good news brought about by the ministry of the Spirit within the souls of men and women. The gospel of greater glory because it revealed not only how to live with God in their midst, but how they could be conformed to the image of God through His Son, the One who know now lived in and through them.

The division and discord within the Corinth church was veiling the glory. He wanted the veil removed.

For to this day, at the reading of the old covenant, the same veil remains; it is not lifted, because it is set aside only in Christ. Yet still today, whenever Moses is read, a veil lies over their hearts, but whenever a person turns to the Lord, the veil is removed. 

(2Corinthians 3:14b-15 CSB)

The glory of the gospel. It’s what’s wired within the DNA of the church. It’s what written on our hearts. O, that God would remove the veil of our fleshly ways, so that the glory might be even more glorious.

By His grace. For His glory.

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Shouldn’t We Smell? (A 2013 Remix)

Decided to randomly go back 10 years ago and see what I was chewing on this day in my reading plan. Kind of struck by it — both nostalgically and convictionally. So, thought I’d re-work it a bit and re-post this morning.


I’ve got to admit, I have it pretty good. I call Sue as I’m leaving work at night, drive 25 minutes, and, on most nights, when I walk in the door I smell supper ready to be served. Sometimes, I know what’s for dinner the moment I enter the house. Other times, I get to play with the smell from the kitchen and try and guess what Sue’s cooked up for our evening meal as I walk down the hall. It’s a blessing to walk in the door after work and smell supper on the stove. But I’m reminded by Paul that it’s a greater blessing to bring an “aroma” into a place yourself. After all, shouldn’t we smell?

But thanks be to God, who always leads us in Christ’s triumphal procession and through us spreads the aroma of the knowledge of Him in every place. For to God we are the fragrance of Christ among those who are being saved and among those who are perishing. To some we are an aroma of death leading to death, but to others, an aroma of life leading to life. Who is adequate for these things?

(2Corinthians 2:14-16 CSB)

The fragrance of Christ, that was the air about Paul. There was a sweet smell that wafted around Paul as he shared the gospel; as he told of the good news of a Savior who died for men’s sins; of a Shepherd who sought lost sheep; of a Sovereign who was establishing a heavenly kingdom. It was more than the words from his mouth, it was the Word living in and through him (Gal. 2:20). Less about his oratory, more about his “awe-atory.”

Paul could imagine himself as a fragrance among others and as an aroma before God, a reference, I think, to the sweet-smelling aromas of the Old Testament sacrifices. Paul, offering his body as a living sacrifice, emitted a pleasing savor which rose to the portals of heaven. A fragrance of life for those who had ears to hear (or, perhaps, noses to smell), but a fragrance of death to those determined to have an allergic reaction to the things of grace and truth.

And while I know that Paul is writing specifically of his unique calling as an apostle to the Gentiles, I can’t help but make application to the guy sitting in this chair. How am I smelling? What’s the nature of the odor that fills a room when I enter? What scent is being diffused with my presence? What bouquet do I possess for others to pick up?

But these questions are so not about me in many ways. For, asks Paul, “Who is adequate for these things?” Implied answer, “No one!”

I can’t produce the perfume. I can’t fake the fragrance. Only as Christ lives in me will His precious scent be diffused from me. Only as I yield to the Spirit’s sanctifying work within, will the aroma of Christ’s ways be picked up by those without. Only as God’s Word is taken in, so will the sweet savor of God’s grace be poured out.

Who is adequate for these things? Not this guy — but God alone.

Yet shouldn’t we want to bring an aroma into the room, the aroma of Christ? Shouldn’t we want to smell a bit? I’m thinkin’ . . .

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

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God Is Faithful Even When Life Isn’t Fair

I dive into 2 Corinthians this morning knowing what’s coming. I’m ready again to read one of Paul’s most personal letters. One in which he pours out his heart because his heart has been broken. Personal because the Corinthians have made it personal as they push back not on his message but on his motives. Questioning his call as an apostle not because he didn’t align with scriptural truth, nor because he hadn’t served them faithfully, but because he seemingly paled in comparison to those who had come into their midst promoting themselves as super apostles.

So, because I know what’s coming, because that filter is on, something I read in this opening chapter captures my attention. Something that we all know and isn’t going to surprise anyone. Something, however, which if you chew on it for a bit, reminds us that God is faithful — even if life sometimes isn’t fair.

Indeed, this is our boast: The testimony of our conscience is that we have conducted ourselves in the world, and especially toward you, with godly sincerity and purity, not by human wisdom but by God’s grace.

(2Corinthians 1:12 CSB)

Later in the letter, Paul’s going to get into how distasteful he finds it that he must “boast” before these Corinthian believers (11:16-21). But “boast” he must. His qualifications and character having been called into question; he finds himself having to defend himself. And he begins with the “testimony” of his conscience.

As far as Paul knew his own heart, he had tried to live out his life, before the world and before these believers, with godly sincerity. Not that he claimed he had ministered with perfection of action, but that he endeavored to conduct himself with a grace empowered purity of intention. And justice and fair-play would have us think that the best of intentions should have been rewarded with the best of intentions. That Paul would have been gladly received by these believers he had served so patiently and faithfully. Instead, he was rejected. Hmm . . .

Sometimes life isn’t fair. Times when what you might expect as the fruit of your labor isn’t what’s realized. Times, in the moment at least, where there appears to be no quid for the well-intentioned pro quo. Times when sincerity of conduct is met with suspicion of character.

So, what do you do with that? You keep on reading in 2 Corinthians.

Remembering that the God of all comfort comforts us (1:3-4). Reminded that even at our best we’re but jars of clay (4:7). Recalling that we’re in the midst of a spiritual battle and “the weapons of our warfare are not of the flesh but have divine power to destroy strongholds” (10:8). Reassured that if we’ll conduct ourselves in sincerity of heart by God’s grace, that His grace will be sufficient, and His power will somehow be manifest in our weakness (12:9).

And so, Paul who’s boasting from the very beginning of his letter is still boasting towards the end.

Therefore, I will most gladly boast all the more about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may reside in me. So I take pleasure in weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and in difficulties, for the sake of Christ.  For when I am weak, then I am strong.

(2Corinthians 12:9b-10 CSB)

Sometimes life isn’t fair, but God is always faithful. Sometimes things don’t seem right, but the righteous — those righteous not in themselves but in Christ — are never forsaken (Ps. 37:25). Sometimes the testimony of our conscience will have to be enough, knowing that on that day the trying of our works will be just (5:10).

By God’s grace. For God’s glory.

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Service and Sanctification

This morning the CSB gives me explicit permission to walk down a path the Spirit would seem to be prompting me to explore.

By contrast, the boy Samuel grew in stature and in favor with the Lord and with people.

(1Samuel 2:26 CSB)

By contrast. You’re not going to find those words in other translations. And so, in other translations you might miss the juxtaposition of the rebuke of Eli’s sinful sons, Hophni and Phinehas, and the Spirit’s commentary on the growth of Hannah’s set apart son, Samuel. But not in the CSB. It’s clear that all three boys are talked about in the latter part of 1Samuel 2 for the express purpose of contrast — for their comparison and for our consideration.

If I can use the term, Samuel evolved while the sons of Eli devolved. He advanced, they atrophied. He grew in consecration to the Lord; they grew in contempt for the Lord (2:17). Thus, He found favor with the Lord, while the Lord purposed to put them to death (2:25b). By contrast.

And not to overly simplify, nor to ignore other factors like Hannah’s earnest desire to dedicate her son to the Lord (1:11) while Eli was content to grow fat off the sin of his sons (2:29), but I’m chewing on a thought which points to at least one root cause for the stark contrast between the boys. It’s the connection between service and sanctification.

What caught my eye was that the Spirit records that Samuel “served in the LORD’s presence” (2:18a) before He makes sure we know that Samuel “grew up in the presence of the LORD” (2:21b). Is it too much to think that Samuel’s service was directly connected to Samuel’s sanctification? I don’t think so.

Practically speaking, the child Samuel didn’t bring a lot to the table. Not much to offer in terms of strength, skills, or scholarship. Nothing really to put on his resume when it came to work or wisdom. But what Samuel did bring however, even as child, was himself. Samuel served.

So, I want to suggest that it’s because he served in the LORD’s presence — even before he had a lot to serve with — that he grew in the LORD’s presence.

Samuel served the LORD, thus he grew in the LORD. Because he worked with what he had, to him more was given (Lk. 19:11-26). Because he was faithful with little, he would grow in the LORD’s presence much. It’s the way of the kingdom. It’s the way of the church, “for those who have served well gain an excellent standing and great assurance in their faith in Christ Jesus” (1Tim. 3:13).

Eli’s boys, on the other hand, served themselves. They enlisted in extortion in the name of the Lord to feed their physical appetites (2:12-17). They engaged in exploitation through their position in the Lord to feed their lustful appetites (2:22). But God is not mocked, what they sowed they would reap (Gal. 6:7). And so, while Samuel served and grew in favor with the Lord, Eli’s boys sinned and fell under the Lord’s serve discipline.

Service and sanctification. I’m thinking there’s a connection.

By God’s grace. For God’s glory.

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God’s Wingman

For many of us, we hear the name Boaz and we immediately think redeemer. If we’re NIV readers, we think kinsman-redeemer. And, as I’ve learned this morning reading in the CSB, if you’re a CSB reader Boaz is going to spark family redeemer for you. Boaz, the close relative who paid the price for Naomi’s field so that he could take Naomi’s widowed daughter-in-law, Ruth, as his bride. Boaz, the family redeemer who with Ruth birthed the line from which my Family Redeemer would be born.

But it’s not Boaz the redeemer who captures my imagination this morning, it’s Boaz the wingman.

When Ruth pledged her loyalty to Naomi (Ruth 1:16) it was more than just an over-the-top declaration of love for Naomi, it was also an over-the-top act of faith in Naomi’s God. And Boaz recognized that.

Boaz answered [Ruth}, “Everything you have done for your mother-in-law since your husband’s death has been fully reported to me: how you left your father and mother and your native land, and how you came to a people you didn’t previously know. May the Lord reward you for what you have done, and may you receive a full reward from the Lord God of Israel, under whose wings you have come for refuge.

(Ruth 2:11-12 CSB)

Ruth’s determination to leave her people and her inheritance for a foreign land and no inheritance was to, in effect, trust the Lord God of Israel and place herself under the protection of His “wings.”

But God isn’t a bird. Nor is God material. God is spirit (Jn. 4:24). And so, if Ruth were to physically realize the refuge of God’s wings, God would need a wingman.

At midnight, Boaz was startled, turned over, and there lying at his feet was a woman! So he asked, “Who are you?”

“I am Ruth, your servant,” she replied. “Take me under your wing, for you are a family redeemer.”

(Ruth 3:8-9 CSB)

Boaz the family redeemer. Boaz the flesh and blood actualization of God’s protection. Boaz the wingman.

And as I chew on that, knowing that Boaz foreshadows the greater Family Redeemer, the Lord Jesus, I remind myself of the refuge I have found under Jesus’ wings.

A refuge by faith. A refuge found at His feet (Ruth 3:7). A refuge bought with a price (Ruth 4:9-10, 1Cor. 6:20). A refuge under the wings of the God who is spirit, actualized by the same God who came in the flesh (Php. 2:7-8). Wings of refuge freely extended by Jesus (Mt. 23:37). The Christ — the promised Son of God who was not ashamed to call me His brother (Heb. 2:11) — is my family redeemer and forever protector.

He will cover you with His feathers;
you will take refuge under His wings.
His faithfulness will be a protective shield.

(Psalm 91:4 CSB)

God’s wingman.

Because of grace alone. For His glory alone.

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This Life Only? Pity!

Sitting back after my readings this morning and wishing that Naomi could have read Paul.

Bitter, she said, call me bitter! ‘Cause that’s how the LORD has made me. I once was full, but thanks to Him, now I’m running on empty. The LORD has opposed me. He knew what I wanted out of life and He said no, and instead has afflicted me. Don’t call me Naomi anymore. Call me bitter. (Ruth 1:20-21)

A widow before she should have been. Childless when once she hadn’t been. A foreigner in a foreign place feeling like nothing more than a has been. Call me bitter, she says. Heavy sigh.

Camp on Naomi’s dashed dreams and misery, and you kind of get it. Imagine what she had imagined her life to be — a loving husband, two adored and adoring boys with two beautiful wives, grandkids someday, perhaps — and then imagine what it was like to see such hopes and dreams vanish. Nothing to show for leaving her family and giving herself to that man. Zilch for the years of toil, for the times of sacrifice, for being uprooted to a strange land. Nada after two long pregnancies, two hard deliveries, and raising two rambunctious boys. Empty, Naomi says. I’m empty.

But then I read Paul and this pops.

If we have put our hope in Christ for this life only, we should be pitied more than anyone.

(1Corinthians 15:19 CSB)

This life only. That’s what I’m chewing on this morning.

As God’s people, if it’s about this life only, we should be pitied. If this is the main event, how miserable. If the prize is to found in the present, “we’re a pretty sorry lot” (MSG).

If it’s about this life only, then bitter is all there is if it doesn’t get better. Unfulfilled and empty is all we’ll have when our expectations are unrealized and eradicated. If our hope for the good life rests solely in this life, then we are to be pitied.

But guess what, it isn’t about this life only. It’s not about our hopes and dreams here and now. It’s about a future hope and a coming day. A hope that for most of us will be realized by passing through death’s dark veil. A hope for life we can barely imagine this side of the grave. Eternal life. Life to the full. A life we get to sample now but are yet to realize fully.

Life found in Christ, the risen Son of God. Life found through Christ, the risen Savior of the world. Life found one day soon with Christ, the coming King of heaven.

Hope in this life only? Pity. This life only? How bitter.

But hope in a life yet to be fully experienced? Life promised in the Father’s faithful word? Life founded on the Son’s finished work? Life tasted even now, amidst the disappointment, through the Spirit’s faithful witness? Now that’s life!

Life by His grace. Life for His glory.

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The Difference Phinehas Makes

It would seem that chapters 17 through 21 could just have easily been chapters 3 through 7. Who knew?

Hovering over and diving a bit into the final chapters of Judges this morning. And a small detail turns upside down how I’ve always read Judges.

Then the Israelites inquired of the Lord. In those days, the ark of the covenant of God was there, and Phinehas son of Eleazar, son of Aaron, was serving before it. The Israelites asked, “Should we again fight against our brothers the Benjaminites or should we stop?”

The Lord answered, “Fight, because I will hand them over to you tomorrow.”

(Judges 20:27-28 CSB)

I’ve always read Judges chronologically, that what was recorded in the last chapters of Judges occurred after the events of the earlier chapters. And so, I’ve read the closing chapters of Judges as a testimony of just how bad things continued to get after Samson’s death. That the examples recorded of over-the-top idolatry and a priesthood free-market economy (Judges 18-19); and of the Sodom and Gomorrah like debauchery (Judges 20); and of a tribe of Israel almost becoming a non-entity (Judges 21-22) were to show how, despite God’s repeated intervention over centuries, the moral climate in Israel had continued to go from bad to worse. But apparently things were already worse at the beginning of Judges, that time when Joshua’s generation passed and “another generation rose up who did not know the LORD or the works He had done for Israel” (Jud. 2:10).

How do we know? Because of Phinehas son of Eleazar, son of Aaron. The presence of Phinehas makes a difference.

This grandson of Aaron was the priest serving during the events recorded in these latter chapters of Judges after Samson. But he was also the priest who accompanied Joshua during the conquest of the promised land some 250 years before Samson (see Joshua 22). So Judges 17 through 21 probably occurred within 10 or 20 years of Joshua’s passing. Thus, the repeated theme of these latter chapters, that “in those days there was no king in Israel; everyone did what seemed right to him” (Judges 17;6, 18:1, 19:1, 21:25), really is the over-arching explanation for everything recorded in Judges.

So, what difference does it make? For me at least, it takes a dark, dark cloud that especially hung over the latter part of the book and moves it directly over the entire book. It adds a depth of understanding for just how corrupted Israel had become so quickly after entering the promised land. A generation which knew neither the works of the LORD, nor had heeded Moses’ command to know the word of the LORD, had become a generation so far from the LORD.

It makes a difference because when I read about all the idolatry in the first chapters of Judges it now reminds me that with such idolatry comes sickening debauchery. That worshiping the gods of this world result in adopting the anchor-less morals of the world, leading to engaging in unimaginable practices of doing whatever’s right in one’s own eyes. That giving ourselves over to idols is in essence giving ourselves over to the flesh.

But it also makes a difference for me because the darkness of this cloud, which now overshadows Judges from the beginning of the book, emphasizes even more the grace and patience of the God who repeatedly sought to discipline His people towards repentance. A God who did not allow the near complete decimation of one tribe of Israel to become the deserved outcome for all the rebellious tribes of Israel. A God who, even in the midst of such utter moral and religious decay, was still working in the hearts of individuals to bring about his kingdom (can’t wait to get to the book of Ruth).

So, maybe next year, if I remember, I’ll read Judges 17 through 21 before reading Judges 3 and marvel again at God’s persistence and patience in protecting His people as He sought to bring His people to repentance.

This too, evidence of His immeasurable grace. This too, for His all-deserved glory

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This I Know

Hovering over 1Corinthians 13 this morning. And experiencing a myriad of mixed emotions.

Initially, there’s a warm and fuzzy feeling of processing again those “love” verses (1Cor. 13:4-8a) as the aspiration of so many newlyweds at the altar. But stare into the mirror of those verses for but a few minutes longer and don’t be surprised if there emerges the ugly reflection of knowing how often and how short you’ve fallen from living out this kind of love. And then the dread of connecting that failure to the prophesied futility of speaking eloquently and heavenly, yet sounding just like a noisy gong and a clanging cymbal. Of having faith to move mountains yet it being counted as nothing. Of possessing all things and yet, in the end, of having nothing. Heavy sigh!

But blessed are the poor in spirit, for they will see the kingdom. Blessed are those who thirst in the arid land of their recognized sin, for they will receive living water flowing from Calvary’s cross. Blessed are those who continue to stare into those verses and see them fade as a reflection of self and give way to the light of One who is Savior. The One who perfectly embodies the love that never ends. The One who gave Himself out of such love. The One who has forever connected Himself with us in accordance with such love. The One who lives now in us and through us, patiently making more perfect that love in us, as He increases, and we decrease.

And I remember again hearing for the first time those love verses read in a way I had never heard them read as Mr. Schoberg opened his bible at the Lord’s Supper one Sunday morning . . .

Jesus is patient, Jesus is kind. Jesus does not envy, is not boastful, is not arrogant, is not rude, is not self-seeking, is not irritable, and does not keep a record of wrongs. Jesus finds no joy in unrighteousness but rejoices in the truth. He bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Jesus never ends.

And chewing on this first part of the chapter readies me for something in the latter part.

Have had now a couple of conversations over the last week on making sense of how hard life is. Of struggling with the sovereignty and engagement of God in light of the suffering and injustice around us. And this pops from the page this morning:

For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror, but then face to face. Now I know in part, but then I will know fully, as I am fully known. 

(1Corinthians 13:12 CSB)

Now I know in part. I’m tempted to want to judge God as to how well He’s deploying His sovereignty, but fact of the matter is, now I know in part. I don’t have any idea of how much I don’t know what I don’t know. And yet, just like my parents in the garden, I think I can eat some fruit and be like God, knowing what He knows, thus qualified to second guess what He does.

There will be a day when I fully know, but today’s not that day. The fact of the matter is, at best I see in a mirror dimly (NKVJ) — literally, I see obscurely, encountering frequently enigmas and riddles. At best I know in part. That’s it.

But in that part I know, I know Jesus. And Jesus is patient. And Jesus is kind. And Jesus in me will enable me to bear all things, believe all things, hope all things, and even endure all things. ‘Cause Jesus never ends. I may know in part, but part of what I know is that Jesus never fails (NKJV).

Yes, Jesus loves me. THIS I KNOW. For the bible tells me so.

By His grace. For His glory.

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