No One!

Sometimes, when all you can do is groan, you just need to remember: no domination, no accusation, no condemnation, no separation.

Finishing up Romans 8 this morning. Considering the sufferings of this present time and that they are not worth comparing with the glory to be revealed (8:18). Acknowledging though, that at this present time “we also groan within ourselves, eagerly waiting for adoption, the redemption of our bodies” (8:23). Praying when we don’t know how to pray. Trusting the Spirit to carry the conversation when we’re tongue-tied (8:26-27). Knowing that all things will eventually work together for good for those who love God (8:28).

But in the meantime, we need to deal with the meantime. And so, Paul would have us ask ourselves four questions.

If God is for us, who is against us?
Who can bring an accusation against God’s elect?
Who is the one who condemns?
Who can separate us from the love of Christ?

(Romans 4:31a, 33a, 34a, 35a CSB)

Same answer for all four questions. No one!

It’s an answer of the head that needs to be transmitted to the heart in times of groaning, in times when the heart is weak, in times when hoping is hard and faith seems to falter.

This one answer to these four questions provides a foothold, a sure foundation. For this one answer, no one, is firmly established on the finished work of that great Someone, the Lord Jesus Christ. And so, as I read in the Psalms this morning, we pray:

. . . from the end of the earth I call to you when my heart is faint. Lead me to the rock that is higher than I . . .

(Psalm 61:2 ESV)

The Rock which reminds us that though there is much opposition, the victory will be ours. If God is for us, no one can bring domination.

The Rock which silences the charges of those who would discredit us. For there is no charge to be brought concerning God’s elect. No one can bring an accusation.

The Rock which assures us that the price has been paid in full, leaving no portion of the debt unpaid. No one can call for condemnation.

The Rock which envelopes us, leaving no place where we are and He is not. No one can bring about separation.

No one!

No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through Him who loved us.

(Romans 8:37 ESV)

We are more than conquerors. Sometimes when the heart groans, the head needs to send that reminder.

For who is greater than our God? Who is able to save like our Savior? Who is able to intercede like the Spirit? No one!

All because of grace. Only for His glory.

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We’re All Gonna Snooze

I know you have to be careful about mapping every detail of a parable to some reality. That there’s a main point to Jesus’ stories which should be the reader’s primary focus, and that seeing a story behind every point can take you down paths that were never intended to be traveled.

Having said that, a lesser noticed detail in a familiar parable has grabbed my attention this morning. And though it isn’t the main point, I think it indicates an important truth — we’re all gonna snooze.

“At that time the kingdom of heaven will be like ten virgins who took their lamps and went out to meet the groom. Five of them were foolish and five were wise. When the foolish took their lamps, they didn’t take oil with them; but the wise ones took oil in their flasks with their lamps. When the groom was delayed, they all became drowsy and fell asleep.” ~ Jesus

(Matthew 25:1-5 CSB)

Jesus tells a story of kingdom dynamics which occur “at that time.” What time? The time referenced in Matthew 24:36-44. The time when “your Lord is coming”. The time when “the Son of Man is coming at an hour you do not expect.” The time when Christ comes for His bride, the church. The time when His disciples, those in the church, are to be ready and be alert. The time when they are to be awake.

At that time there will be some ready for the groom’s return, with oil for their lamps, and some who are not — those carrying lamps that look good for light, but which have no substance to actually emit light. All aware of the bridegroom’s promised return. All seemingly awaiting the bridegroom’s return. But all, apparently, not really prepared for the bridegroom’s return.

The groom is delayed. He’s taking longer to return than the circumstances about them, and the signs of the times before them, would seem to indicate. And here’s what grabs my attention:

” . . . they all became drowsy and fell asleep.”

While some of these virgins were prepared with lamp and oil and some were not, none of these waiting for the groom had superpowers. What distinguished them from each other wasn’t that some were more able, more capable, more devoted, or more better (yeah, not good English, I know) than the others, but that some were ready, and some were not. However, the longer the groom delayed the more likely these mere mortals — all of them — were to find themselves at times drowsy and falling asleep.

In their waiting, while seeking to be ready and alert, the longer the groom tarried the more likely they were to nod off. That’s what creatures of the flesh are gonna do. Despite waiting and watching, at some point we’re all gonna snooze.

However, it seems to me the point of the parable is whether we’re gonna nod off with our lamps full of oil or with them empty. When we are awake, when we are at our best, when we are on our game, are we actively, intentionally preparing for the groom’s return? Are we seeking to hide His word in our hearts, not just that we might not sin against Him (Ps. 119:11), but so that we might also be transformed by the renewing our minds (Rom. 12:2a)? Are we actively engaging with that word, so that not only are we discerning God’s good and perfect will (Rom. 12:2b), but we’re also distinguishing the world’s good and evil ways (Heb. 5:14)? Are we taking the talents He’s left us with and investing them in the kingdom? Are we growing together with the adopted family He’s given us as we convey something of the kingdom He wants to present through us? Are we filling our lamps with oil or not?

We’re all gonna snooze? It’s what people still encumbered by the flesh do. But when we do grow weary, and when we perhaps lose a little focus, we can snooze with our lamps full and our light’s ready to shine. So that when we are awakened by the convicting call of the Spirit — or by the trumpet sound of the coming of Jesus — we will be found ready and welcomed to the wedding banquet.

By His grace. For His glory.

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Not What I Would Have Prayed

It doesn’t seem fair. Sure, he rebelled, if you can call it that (God does). But it wasn’t like the way they had rebelled. The community refused to enter the land flowing with milk and honey, and then they continued to grumble about the wilderness they wandered in, longing again and again for Egypt. He, on the other hand, had not only led them to the promised land, but had interceded with God for their whining, again and again. So, when in frustration he struck the rock instead of speaking to the rock, it hardly seems fair that he too would die in the wilderness along with the rest of them. His sin somehow seems insignificant to their sin. But their sin wasn’t the standard. God’s holy name was. And thus, Moses was to be buried on the doorsill of the land of promise.

So, I’m struck by the fact that when Moses prayed to the LORD, after he was told by the LORD that he also would die in the desert, it’s not what I would have prayed.

So Moses appealed to the LORD, “May the LORD, the God who gives breath to all, appoint a man over the community who will go out before them and come back in before them, and who will bring them out and bring them in, so that the LORD’s community won’t be like sheep without a shepherd.”

(Numbers 27:15-17 CSB)

Moses prayed for “the community.” I would have prayed for myself.

Unlike Hezekiah who prayed for more years (2Ki. 20:1-3), Moses seemingly doesn’t push back on the LORD, at all. Unlike David who cried out for grace and mercy and full restoration after his sin was discovered (Ps. 51), Moses accepts the just consequences of his actions. Rather than prize the promise over the Promiser, Moses doesn’t try to argue or plead his way into Canaan, instead, having known God face to face (Ex. 33:11), He blesses the Lord who gives and takes away by saying, in effect, “Not my will by Yours be done” (Job 1:21, Lk. 22:42).

Pause. Chew on it. Did I mention how I thought I’d pray?

Not only did Moses not pray for himself, but he prayed for them. He interceded, AGAIN, for the community. He supplicated for the very group that had, in so many ways, submarined him. Lifted up those who eventually had been responsible for taking him down. Sought again the welfare of those who had so worn him out.

Chew some more. Not what I would have prayed.

He put others above himself. Understandable self-preservation yielding to unimaginable submission to the sovereign purposes and promises of God. Confident in his relationship with the Father, he cared foremost for those prone to wanting to be sheep without a shepherd.

That’s Moses. And, that’s the one Moses pointed towards, the greater Moses, my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.

Therefore, holy brothers and sisters, who share in a heavenly calling, consider Jesus, the apostle and high priest of our confession. He was faithful to the One who appointed Him, just as Moses was in all God’s household. For Jesus is considered worthy of more glory than Moses, just as the builder has more honor than the house. . . Moses was faithful as a servant in all God’s household, as a testimony to what would be said in the future.  But Christ was faithful as a Son over His household.

(Hebrews 3:1-3, 5-6a CSB)

Moses prayed for the community when he could have understandably prayed for himself. Not what I would have prayed.

Oh, to be more like Moses. Oh, to be more like the One Moses foreshadowed.

Only by His enabling grace. Only for His everlasting glory.

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Grace Will Reign — Part 2 . . . An OT Thing as Well

Wah, wah, wah! Somebody call a wahm-bulance! Why did we ever leave Egypt? Moses, why did you bring us to the wilderness to die? Where is this land flowing with milk and honey? We’re thirsty! It must have been tiresome for Moses to hear. And, while I’d like to think that I’d be Moses at this pity party, I know better — consider me part of the mob.

Hovering over the first part of Numbers 20 this morning and what I read yesterday in Romans 5 comes to mind. Even in the Old Testament, grace will reign.

Then Moses raised his hand and struck the rock twice with his staff, so that abundant water gushed out, and the community and their livestock drank.

(Numbers 20:11 CSB)

Abundant water gushed out. That’s what grabbed my attention. That’s what made the connection with yesterday’s meditation. That’s what I’m chewing on. (Sipping on?)

Abundant water gushed forth from the rock and the community and their livestock drank. You better believe it was abundant — that’s thirst-quenching, life-sustaining drink for 2.5 million people and their animals. That’s a lot of water. But what is more amazing is that this is the “wahm-bulance” crowd. Those who, despite seeing the deliverance of God, repeatedly question the goodness and power of God. Over and over and over again. Good thing I’m not Moses in this picture or he’d be walking instead of watering. Instead, grace will reign. And God, in His mercy and patience, and for His intended glory, gives water to the whiners. Abundant water.

But wait, there’s more!

Moses struck the rock before more water than was needed came forth. He struck it. He was told to “speak to the rock” (20:8), but in his frustration with the people, Moses hauled up and whacked the silent stone repeatedly. A big deal? Yeah, a pretty big deal. So big it disqualified Moses and Aaron from crossing the finish line and entering the promised land (20:12, 24).

So, a severely disquieted people and a sorrowfully disqualified leader and still, grace will reign. Abundant water gushed out again. Overflowing grace was shown again.

And this guy in this chair is overwhelmed with appreciation and praise again.

Of God’s grace. For God’s glory.

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Grace Will Reign

“Death through Adam and Life through Christ”, that’s the heading in my bible for the latter part of Romans 5. The contrasting impacts between the first man’s disobedience and the God-Man’s obedience. The first providing sin the opportunity to infect the world, the other providing a gift able to save the world. The first bringing just condemnation, the other bringing imputed righteousness. Adam swinging wide open the door to death, Jesus offering widely the gift of eternal life. The finished work of Golgotha enveloping all the fallout from the first rebellion in the garden.

But where sin multiplied, grace multiplied even more so that, just as sin reigned in death, so also grace will reign through righteousness, resulting in eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord.

(Romans 5:20b-21 CSB)

Grace will reign. Those are the words I am chewing on this morning.

First, I need to resist the temptation to take this “what” and turn it immediately into a “to do.” While I could be quick to make it an application, process it as a command to obey reminding myself that I need to let grace reign, instead I am basking in the glory and wonder of its declaration, that it is the reality which exists, that grace will reign.

I don’t need to look hard or far to see the continuing collateral damage of the first man’s failure. I don’t need to look beyond the chair I’m sitting in.

For I do not understand what I am doing, because I do not practice what I want to do, but I do what I hate. . . For in my inner self I delight in God’s law, but I see a different law in the parts of my body, waging war against the law of my mind and taking me prisoner to the law of sin in the parts of my body. What a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body of death?

(Romans 7:15, 22-24 ESV)

But grace will reign!

Because it is independent of my righteousness. Because it is founded on the righteousness of Another. Firmly grounded in the righteousness of Christ, the righteousness once for all credited to my account through the finished work of the cross. The righteousness of Christ which, day by day, is becoming more my lived-out reality through the ongoing, sanctifying work of the Spirit.

And grace will reign because, as a one hymn-writer put it, it is grace that is greater than all my sin.

But the gift is not like the trespass. For if by the one man’s trespass the many died, how much more have the grace of God and the gift which comes through the grace of the one man Jesus Christ overflowed to the man.

(Romans 5:15 CSB)

The gift of sins forgiven not only comes to us through the one man Jesus Christ, it overflows to us. Overflows, unencumbered by any boundaries, beyond being depleted through “over use.” The reservoir of God’s grace isn’t just “topped up” each day to make sure there’s enough forgiveness to go around for the day, no, it always, eternally, foreverly (not a word), overflows. It abounds. It is always more than sufficient and beyond what we can think, imagine, and sometimes even believe.

But where sin multiplied, grace multiplied even more!

Thank God for His amazing, all sufficient, overflowing grace!

Grace will reign!

And that, for God’s glory.

Amen?

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A Hope That Will Not Disappoint

Honestly, when I prayed my feeble “sinner’s prayer” 45 years ago, what I think I wanted most was peace in my world and some assurance of a better next world. The next world had come in focus as a result of surviving a pretty bad car accident. While I slept through the accident, literally (yes, I was driving at the time), it awakened me to my mortality and the need to deal with things of eternity sooner than later. And my less than peaceful world was a result of my parents’ marriage imploding and all the upheaval that brings into a house. So, when I prayed the prayer, I wanted peace on earth (at least my little part of it) and a place in heaven. Beyond that, didn’t know really what I was signing up for.

Reading in Romans 5 this morning, I realize that I really wasn’t looking for “peace with God” (v.1). Hadn’t really appreciated the deadness of my soul, the depths of my sin, and the degree to which I lived as an enemy of God. But when by faith — what little faith and little understanding there was — I cried out to God, I was declared righteous by faith and was reconciled with the Creator. Thank You, Lord!

Nor, when I first believed, did I understand that I now had access to a boundless ocean of grace in which I suddenly stood (v.2a). Having been saved by grace in a moment, I would be secure and sustained by grace for eternity. Didn’t know that I had signed up for that either. Praise You, Father!

I can look back and see that whatever rejoicing I did at the time it was pretty horizontally focused, hoping that my life was now going to be good. Didn’t fully appreciate the joy that would be possible as I came alive to the vertical reality of encounters of the divine kind as I tasted repeatedly “the hope of the glory of God” (v.2b).

So, a lot I didn’t know back then that I have come to more fully appreciate over the years since praying that prayer.

But, here’s the other thing I didn’t know that I was signing up for — afflictions!

And not only that, but we also rejoice in our afflictions, because we know that affliction produces endurance, endurance produces proven character, and proven character produces hope. This hope will not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured out in our hearts through the Holy Spirit who was given to us.

(Romans 5:3-5 CSB)

While it might be easy to rejoice in hope, didn’t know back then that I was also enlisting to rejoice in afflictions.

Afflictions. The ESV and NIV call them sufferings. The NASB and NKJV, tribulations. And my friend, Mr. Peterson, renders it hemmed in with troubles.

We continue to shout our praise even when we’re hemmed in with troubles . . .

(Romans 5:3a MSG)

Really? Yeah, really. How come that was part of the deal? Because when God enlivened me to pray that prayer in the late ’70s loving me just the way I was (and despite how little I knew), He also loved me too much to leave me the way I was.

Cue afflictions. Cue tribulations. Cue trials. Cue endurance. Cue character. Cue a hope that will not disappoint.

We rejoice in the hope of the glory of God (v.2b) and so we rejoice in our afflictions because they make real the hope of the glory of God. Our hope not merely an escape from reality, but a hope which becomes more sure as we persist in our journey towards our full and final redemption.

Afflictions producing endurance, an endurance possible only by the sustaining grace of God and power of the Spirit. Endurance producing character as we persist in seasons of suffering, of cross-bearing, imitating Jesus who endured His cross for the joy set before Him (Heb. 12:2). Not only looking to Jesus but also experiencing Jesus. Experiencing the reality of Him living in us and through us (Gal. 2:20) as He invites us to come to Him and take up His yoke so that can bear the burden with us (Matt. 28:11). And so, as we experience Him we become increasing like Him. Endurance producing proven character.

And that proven character, which knows the reality of not growing weary or giving up just as Jesus knew (Heb. 12:3), seals the deal on the hope set before us. Having experienced God’s love poured out into our hearts and Jesus power poured out into our lives–even when we are hemmed in with trouble— assures us that we will realize fully what we signed up for even though what we signed up for was “what no eye has seen and no ear has heard, and what has never come into a man’s heart” because it’s “what God has prepared for those who love Him” (1Cor. 2:9).

And that’s a hope that will not disappoint.

By His grace. For His glory.

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Hoping Against Hope

He had been promised he would be the father of many nations. But we know the story, Abraham had great difficulty becoming the father of but one child. And yet, as I read Romans 4 this morning, he is called the “the father of all who believe.” Talk about your plentiful progeny!

So, how come? What’s the secret sauce for a man who considered his body already dead trying to have a baby with a wife whose womb was demonstrably dead? Apparently, it’s hoping against hope.

[Abraham] is the father of us all. As it is written: “I have made you the father of many nations”—in the presence of the God in whom he believed, the One who gives life to the dead and calls things into existence that do not exist.  He believed, hoping against hope, so that he became the father of many nations according to what had been spoken: “So will your descendants be.”  He did not weaken in faith when he considered his own body to be already dead (since he was about a hundred years old) and also the deadness of Sarah’s womb. He did not waver in unbelief at God’s promise but was strengthened in his faith and gave glory to God, because he was fully convinced that what God had promised, He was also able to do.

(Romans 4:16b-21 CSB)

Hebrews 11:1 defines faith as the substance (NKJV), or reality (CSB), of things hoped for. This morning I’m chewing on a definition that seems to extend that a bit, faith is hoping against hope.

It’s one thing to hope in something for which the odds are favorable (like a couple in their early twenties hoping to have a child). It’s another thing to hope in something that’s almost for sure hopeless. Abraham’s body was a good as dead. Sara’s womb was past being dead. Shouldn’t hope have been dead as well? I’m thinking. But when hope was dead within him, Abraham went on hoping in faith.

How come? He was fully convinced that what God had said He would do, God was able to do. That his God was not just a god of wishful promises, but the God of eternal purposes and wondrous power.

Hoping against hope. Fully convinced God is able to do what He says He will do. That is the faith which credits righteousness apart from works (4:6-12). That’s also the faith which causes the people of God to keep on keepin’ on when keepin’ on seems to be leading nowhere.

Hopeless is what demonstrates God’s power the most. Moving forward when it’s not even clear where forward is demonstrates His people’s faith the most — even when that faith is fragile. Hoping against hope, full convinced. Not because of how strong our faith is, but because our faith, even if only the size a mustard seed (Mt. 17:20), is in Him who is strong.

Hoping against hope. Fully convinced.

Only by His grace. Always for His glory.

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Remembering Our Sin

Was in California last week with kids and grandkids. As someone reminded me, “food for the soul.” But, it was also havoc for early morning routines — mostly because “all day” with the boys was in conflict with “early mornings” with my bible. Enough time in the mornings to read, hard to find time to write.

This morning I’m hovering over Psalm 51. A song written by David. A song about his sin with Bathsheba. A song which, for some who would misunderstand grace, might seem to be a psalm which shouldn’t have been written.

If David had confessed his sin . . . if David had been forgiven his sin . . . if, as far as the east is from the west, God had removed David’s transgressions from him (Ps. 103:12), then why bring it up again? And why in a song, written down for others to read? Why provide the potential for the lowest moment of his walk with God to be preserved and perpetuated? And why, by the Spirit of God, was it prompted of David to write it down so that, in fact, it would be immortalized? Shouldn’t David have just moved on? Couldn’t David have just struck it from memory? Apparently not.

It would seem that while sin can forever be forgiven, it is perhaps unwise that it should be forgotten. Not that it would be ammunition for the enemy to keep throwing in our face a debt which has been fully paid, but that it might continue to provide a condition of heart from which pleasing sacrifices to God might forever be made.

Lord, open my lips,
and my mouth will declare Your praise.
You do not want a sacrifice, or I would give it;
You are not pleased with a burnt offering.
The sacrifice pleasing to God is a broken spirit.
You will not despise a broken and humbled heart, God.

(Psalm 51:15-17 CSB)

A broken spirit, a humbled heart — those are the sacrifices pleasing to God. Nothing like a reminder of God’s graciousness in our deepest failures to prompt offering up our highest worship. No replacement for a fresh remembrance of purifying and cleansing from sin (v.7) committed against Him — and Him alone (v.4) — as a catalyst for restoring again the joy of His salvation and the sustaining power of a willing spirit (v.12). Nothing like a renewed appreciation of having been saved from my guilt to open my lips with songs of praise (v.15). Seems to me this morning that you need the depths of working through Psalm 51 on a regular basis in order to experience the heights of Psalm 103 on a regular basis.

Spurgeon, quoting J.J. Stewart Perowne, offers this to chew on:

When speaking of thankfulness, we might have expected him to say, “a joyful heart, or a thankful heart,” but instead of that he says, “a contrite heart.” For the joy of forgiveness does not banish sorrow and contrition for sin: this will still continue. And the deeper the sense of sin, and the truer the sorrow for it, the more heartfelt also will be the thankfulness for pardon and reconciliation. The tender, humble, broken heart, is therefore the best thank offering.

Are we to, from time to time, remember our sin? Is there benefit from recounting unpleasant memories of our transgressions? I’m thinking so.

In Luke 7 we can read of a woman known to be a sinner who sought out Jesus while He was dining in the house of a Pharisee. She made her way to Jesus as He reclined at His host’s table and, standing behind Jesus at His feet weeping, began to wash His feet with her tears and anoint them with the precious oil. Needless to say, she caused quite the scene and raised the hackles of indignation upon the neck of Jesus’ Pharisee host. Hear Jesus’ reply:

“Do you see this woman? I entered your house; you gave Me no water for My feet, but she, with her tears, has washed My feet and wiped them with her hair. You gave Me no kiss, but she hasn’t stopped kissing My feet since I came in. You didn’t anoint My head with olive oil, but she has anointed My feet with perfume. Therefore I tell you, her many sins have been forgiven; that’s why she loved much. But the one who is forgiven little, loves little.”

(Luke 7:44-47 CSB)

We remember our sin not to wallow in our sin, but to worship in God’s amazing forgiveness of our sin. To forget our sin, it seems to me, runs the risk of growing cold in our love for our Savior and wanting in our sacrifice to our Savior.

The sacrifice pleasing to God is a broken spirit.

Because of grace. For His glory.

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The God to Whom I Belong (2018 Rerun)

D, U, M, B . . . dumb!!! That’s what it was, dumb. A dumb decision to set sail. It was the majority decision, but it was the wrong decision. It was the expedient decision, the pilot preferring another port, but it was a reckless decision. And the centurion who was calling the shots went with the crowd and “decided to put out to sea . . . on the chance that somehow they could reach Phoenix, a harbor of Crete” (Acts 27:12).

How’s that for confident decision making? . . . “on the chance they could somehow, maybe, make it.” D,U,M,B . . . dumb!!!

And though Paul perceived the danger and sought to advise the decisions makers with a voice of reason, he was just the prisoner. A passenger, along for the ride. A nobody, really. Yet, as things would play out, clearly a somebody.

They set sail, and not long after the ship is at the mercy of a “tempestuous wind” (v.14). Forced to literally go wherever the wind blows, they eventually start tossing overboard the ship’s cargo and tackle as they continue to be “violently storm-tossed” (v.18). And then, after days “when neither sun nor stars appeared,” and with no apparent relief in sight, “all hope of being saved was at last abandoned” (v.20).

Situation hopeless.

And Paul, thinking that now the majority might be open to new ideas from the minority, almost humorously says, “Men, you should have listened to me” (v.21). Ya’ think?!?

But here’s the thing that I’m chewing on. Paul’s “I told ya’ so” wasn’t because of who Paul was. After all, he was just a prisoner . . . nothing more than a passenger. No, it wasn’t because of who he was, but because of to Whom he belonged.

“Yet now I urge you to take heart, for there will be no loss of life among you, but only of the ship. For this very night there stood before me an angel of the God to whom I belong and whom I worship, and he said, ‘Do not be afraid, Paul; you must stand before Caesar. And behold, God has granted you all those who sail with you.’ So take heart, men, for I have faith in God that it will be exactly as I have been told.

(Acts 27:22-25 ESV)

“The God to whom I belong.” That’s what I’m noodling on this morning.

I belong to God, says Paul. How brash! How beautiful!

Paul’s identity wasn’t founded in that he was some great preacher or proclaimer of the truth. For, evidently, powerful preachers and proclaimers can end up in the brig as powerless prisoners and passengers. Large crowds can give way to stinky sailors. Those who might have been the cream of the crop one day, can be but cargo the next.

Instead, despite the storm, in the face of “situation hopeless,” even when you’re not in the position to make the call or pull any levers, you can take heart because the God to whom I belong says, “Do not be afraid, I have plans for you. And those plans will be fulfilled. For you are Mine.”

Oh, to rest in the reality that we are His. That we are not our own, but have been bought with a price and have been made a temple of God by His Holy Spirit (1Cor. 6:19-20). That the Son of God “gave Himself for us to redeem us from all lawlessness and to purify for Himself a people for His own possession” (Tit. 2:14), that “whether we live or whether we die, we are the Lord’s” (Rom. 14:8).

And so, we worship the God to whom I belong. And we trust in the God to whom I belong. And we ride out the storms through the power and protection of the God to whom I belong. And we take heart, and have faith, believing it will be exactly as we’ve been told by the God to whom I belong.

Oh, the wonder of being a child of God. Oh, the identity we possess as co-heirs with Jesus. Oh, the hope that is ours because we have been bought with a price. Oh, the love that flows from redeemed hearts because of the love shown us by our Great Redeemer.

My Beloved is mine, and I am His . . .

(Song of Solomon 2:16 ESV)

I am His. Yes I am.

He is the God to whom I belong. He is the God whom I worship.

Because of His amazing grace. Forever for His indescribable glory.

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A Reprise

It’s a sort of reprise, repeating the theme of the last song. You know that because it shares the same chorus.

Why, my soul, are you so dejected?
Why are you in such turmoil?
Put your hope in God, for I will still praise Him,
my Savior and my God.

(Psalm 43:5 CSB)

(cp Psalm 42:5 and Psalm 42:11)

Last song was clearly credited to the sons of Korah. Psalm 43 is presented anonymously. I wonder if it’s because this is the song that inspired the first one. Lyrics written in the first person actually by the person who was so dejected of soul. I’m wondering if this isn’t David’s work. A piece written inspired by the time (recorded in 2Samuel 15) when he was driven from his throne by “an unfaithful nation” (v. 2).

So, he cries out to God to vindicate him, to champion his cause, to set all the wrongs right (v.1). For, at least in the moment of unjust exile, he feels as though God has rejected him, determining instead that he “go about in sorrow because of the enemy’s oppression” (v.2).

But in the meantime, until justice reigns, what’s the dejected and rejected king gonna do? That’s what I’m chewing on this morning.

Send Your light and Your truth; let them lead me.
Let them bring me to Your holy mountain,
to Your dwelling place.
Then I will come to the altar of God,
to God, my greatest joy.
I will praise You with the lyre,
God, my God.

(Psalm 43:3-4 CSB)

David’s most ardent longing after being thrown out of Jerusalem wasn’t to get back to his throne. It wasn’t to know again his seat of power. It was to return to God’s holy mountain so that he could come again to God’s holy dwelling. To bring his sacrifices again to the altar. To play again songs of praise on his lyre. To proclaim again, with unfettered (and, per 2Samuel 6:14-15, perhaps even somewhat unrobed) abandon that God alone was his greatest joy. “Take the world but give me Jesus” might have been a favorite song of his had it been around then.

So where did David look to be led back to the holy hill? Where might we look?

Send Your light and Your truth; let them lead me.

While this may refer to the light and truth of God’s presence, I’m processing it as the light and truth of God’s word. As in, “Your word is a lamp for my feet and a light on my path” (Ps. 119:105). As in, “Your word is truth” (Jn. 17:17).

While absent physically from the house of God, while exiled emotionally by the people of God, yet able spiritually to draw near to the throne of God as he meditated, even in exile, on the word of God.

The light of God’s word making straight his paths amidst the confusion. The truth of God’s word recalibrating “true north” amidst the unexpected redirection. The leading of God’s word able to bring him, at least by faith, to the altar of God to offer, regardless of circumstance, the sacrifice of praise born of an abiding joy in God.

Hmm . . . pretty good reprise. Not a bad encore.

A reminder of God’s grace. More reason to give God the glory.

Take the world, but give me Jesus,
all its joys are but a name;
but His love abides forever,
through eternal years the same.

Take the world, but give me Jesus,
sweetest comfort of my soul;
with the Savior watching o’er me,
I can sing, though thunders roll.

Take the world, but give me Jesus,
Let me view His constant smile;
Then throughout my pilgrim journey
Light will cheer me all the while.

Take the world, but give me Jesus;
in His cross my trust shall be
till with clearer, brighter vision
face to face my Lord I see.

Oh, the height and depth of mercy!
Oh, the length and breadth of love!
Oh, the fullness of redemption,
pledge of endless life above!

~ Fanny Crosby, 1879 ~

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