He Eats and Drinks with Tax Collectors and Sinners

Remove two words and the question becomes a truth. The examination turns into an exclamation. The inquiry morphs into a wondrous infallibility. Just by dropping two words.

After this [Jesus] went out and saw a tax collector named Levi, sitting at the tax booth. And He said to him, “Follow Me.” And leaving everything, he rose and followed Him. And Levi made Him a great feast in his house, and there was a large company of tax collectors and others reclining at table with them. And the Pharisees and their scribes grumbled at His disciples, saying, “Why do you eat and drink with tax collectors and sinners?”

(Luke 5:27-30 ESV)

You eat and drink with tax collectors and sinners.

The other gospel writers represent these grumblings by the self-righteous and uber-religious as directed primarily at Jesus, but Luke points out that what Jesus did His disciples did as well. Yet, as I read these words this morning, in my mind’s eye “you”, the collective, pops as “You”, the Christ. The grumbling was directed towards a young, upstart rabbi who was competing for people’s religious affection. The question was directed at the One who came preaching good news of a kingdom which had come. The incredulity targeted at the self-identified Messiah, God’s holy promised Redeemer.

But for me this morning, it’s a glorious statement of fact concerning my Savior. He eats and drinks with tax collectors and sinners — and borrowing from Paul, “of who I am chief” (1Tim. 1:15 NKJV).

This past Sunday, He was seated with me at a spiritual table of remembrance as I ate and drank together with other sinners who had been called to the celebration. One day He will eat and drink with me around a great banqueting table in the heavens celebrating the marriage of the Lamb of God and the bride He purchased with His own blood (Rev. 19:7-9). And every morning He renews His invitation — setting the table afresh with new mercies and all-sufficient grace — that if I will RSVP and open the door, He promises that “I will come in to him and eat with him, and he with Me” (Rev. 3:20).

Jesus eats and drinks with tax collectors and sinners.

How thankful am I for that? Pretty thankful. How much in awe that I have a seat at the table? A lot.

To what degree do I deserve it, have earned it, or merit it? Not so much.

Sure, I seek to follow. I try to obey. I trust I’m growing and being increasingly conformed to the likeness of Jesus. But when it comes down to my confidence that there will always be a place at the table for me, it’s only through the finished work of the cross. Only because of the steadfast, patient love of the Lord. Only because Jesus calls tax collectors and sinners to Himself, declaring them to be saints, and determining to complete the work He has begun in them (Php. 1:6).

Just a sinner . . .

. . . saved by grace.

At the table . . .

. . . for God’s glory.

Amen?

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Windows in Heaven

Situation? Desperate. Degree of hope? Near zero. Cynicism? Running high. Solution? Windows in heaven.

Hovering over a phrase in 2 Kings 7 this morning which I’m taking out of context yet is providing a flood of comfort and confidence.

Ben-hadad king of Syria has laid siege to Samaria. So severe is the famine that “a donkey’s head sold for eighty shekels of silver, and the fourth part of a kab of dove’s dung for five shekels of silver” (6:25). Don’t know exactly what that means, but Peterson helps in The Message, “food prices soared astronomically.” So bad was the famine that moms were divvying up their children for food (6:26-29). Situation? Desperate. Degree of hope? Near zero.

Enter the man of God, Elisha. Enter God through the man, the LORD of heaven and earth.

But Elisha said, “Hear the word of the LORD: thus says the LORD, Tomorrow about this time a seah of fine flour shall be sold for a shekel, and two seahs of barley for a shekel, at the gate of Samaria.”

(2Kings 7:1 ESV)

Peterson again cuts to the chase: “This time tomorrow food will be plentiful.”

But understandably, cynicism runs high.

Then the captain on whose hand the king leaned said to the man of God, “If the LORD Himself should make windows in heaven, could this thing be?”

(2Kings 7:2a ESV)

Might as well let Peterson comment on this as well: “You expect us to believe that? Trapdoors opening in the sky and food tumbling out?”

Windows in heaven opened upon earth. Floodgates of living water gushing out on a dry, sparse, and desert land. An existence all but atrophied infused with abundance from above. Really? You expect us to believe that?

Yeah, really!

And when Jesus was baptized, immediately He went up from the water, and behold, the heavens were opened to Him, and He saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and coming to rest on Him; and behold, a voice from heaven said, “This is My beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased.”

(Matthew 3:16-17 ESV)

If God is for us, who can be against us? He who did not spare His own Son but gave Him up for us all, how will He not also with Him graciously give us all things?

(Romans 8:31b-32 ESV)

The windows of heaven have been opened. The sluice thrown wide. Heaven’s best sent to redeem earth’s worst. The Son of God, anointed with the Spirit of God, to deliver the life-giving abundance of God to dying souls in a dry and barren land. Could this thing be? Yes sir! Yes ma’am! Because there ARE windows in heaven.

We have known the feast given in famine since that day we first believed. Hope for the hopeless. Life worth the living. Every bone-dry season of famine since then serving as an opportunity to know afresh that there are windows in heaven. The ultimate prize, the Son Himself. The ultimate thirst-quenching, soul-filling sustenance delivered by the Spirit in us as He comes afresh upon us.

Windows in heaven? Really? Yeah, really. That’s the solution. That’s the Savior.

By His grace. For His glory.

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Terms of Salvation

The Bible says he was “a great man”, that he was “a mighty man of valor”. He was the commander of the army of the king of Syria. But for the many battles he had won, there was one in which he was perpetually on the losing side. Naaman was a leper. Couldn’t fight himself out of that one.

This morning I’m hovering over his story in 2 Kings 5. And what grabs me is that he was tripped up by the terms of salvation.

A Hebrew servant who was in service to Naaman’s wife informs her mistress that she thinks there’s a cure in Israel. If only Naaman were to see Elisha, “the prophet who is in Samaria” (v.3).

Having exhausted all traditional methods of treating his leprosy, he heads to Israel. Elisha gets word of his coming and sends a servant to prescribe the treatment that will rid Naaman of his leprosy.

And Elisha sent a messenger to him, saying, “Go and wash in the Jordan seven times, and your flesh shall be restored, and you shall be clean.”

(2Kings 5:10 ESV)

Sounds simple enough. Perhaps too good to be true, but hey, worth a shot. Or so you might think.

But Naaman was angry and went away, saying, “Behold, I thought that he would surely come out to me and stand and call upon the name of the LORD his God, and wave his hand over the place and cure the leper. Are not Abana and Pharpar, the rivers of Damascus, better than all the waters of Israel? Could I not wash in them and be clean?” So he turned and went away in a rage.

(2Kings 5:11-12 ESV)

He was enraged! He was a man of position who deserved something much better than a mere messenger saying go wash in a foreign river. He didn’t like the terms of salvation from his leprosy.

But cooler heads persuade and prevail.

But his servants came near and said to him, “My father, it is a great word the prophet has spoken to you; will you not do it? Has he actually said to you, ‘Wash, and be clean’?” So he went down and dipped himself seven times in the Jordan, according to the word of the man of God, and his flesh was restored like the flesh of a little child, and he was clean.

(2Kings 5:13-14 ESV)

He wanted to be clean, but on his terms. He wanted victory over his rotting flesh, but in a way that seemed fitting for a man of his standing. But his servants cut to the chase, “Do you want to be clean or not? He’s told you how to be clean.” And Naaman, by the grace of God, in faith dips himself seven times in what God had determined would be a cleansing flow. He believed. He responded. He was clean.

How many get tripped up by the gospel because they don’t think it’s a fitting solution to their problems. Oh, they know they are broken, that their flesh is messed up, but to believe that cleansing comes through placing oneself beneath the shed blood of the risen Christ are terms they can’t — more accurately, won’t accept. But the bottom-line question remains. Do you want to be clean? Then, by faith, wash in the provision sent by a redeeming, renewing, regenerating God.

True of unbelievers? Yes, too often. True of believers? Unfortunately, also too often, I think. Not for our salvation from the penalty of sin, but for our sanctification, our on-going salvation from the power of sin. The terms of pursuing holiness something we think beneath us. And so we struggle with the remnants of rotting flesh rather than submitting to the messenger of the Spirit through God’s word as to how to be made whole.

How I need to bow in obedience to the terms of salvation.

For my continued cleansing. By His grace. For His glory.

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Supplication for All the Saints

Wrapping up Ephesians 6 this morning and hovering over the armor of God. Images of soldiers decked out in battle gear come to mind standing fast as they bear the belt of truth, the breastplate of righteousness, and the shield of faith. Their feet ready with the gospel of peace, their heads protected by the helmet of salvation ready to wield the sword of the Spirit, the word of God. An inspiring image in my mind’s eyes. Yet in its shadow, a command that I often overlook.

To that end keep alert with all perseverance, making supplication for all the saints . . .

(Ephesians 6:18b ESV)

Interceding for the saints. Praying for other believers. In our churches, beyond our churches. A reminder again that the Christian walk was never intended to be an independent walk.

Even as we pray “Our Father”, we acknowledge that we are part of a family, that there are brothers and sisters who also cry out to “Our Father”. Pray for them, says Paul.

I can be so consumed with my own prayer needs. Maybe I have capacity to pray for the needs of a few close to me. But to periodically take time and just pray for believers — everywhere, in whatever circumstances — is part of how we keep alert that we are in a battle. It’s seems vitally linked to persevering in the faith.

We need one another. We need to have one another’s backs. We need others to have our backs. And so, soldier of God, full-armor bearer of Christ, make supplication for all the saints.

Only by His grace. That we would all live for His glory.

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The Journey Is Too Great

Hovering over the story of Elijah’s post-Carmel blues. After seeing the LORD’s great victory over the forces of hell on the mount, he returns to the valley and the murderous threats of Jezebel. The battle had been won, but the war was far from over. And the Spirit makes sure we know that Elijah “was afraid, and he arose and ran for his life” (1Ki. 19:3). Not only was he afraid but he was depressed, so much so that “he asked that he might die” (19:4). “It is enough,” says the weary prophet. I’m done. Let’s go home.

And while there’s a lot to chew on as to how the LORD ministers to His beat-up servant, the “money” phrase for me this morning is but seven words. Seven words that I think I would do well to remember.

And the angel of the LORD came again a second time and touched him and said, “Arise and eat, for the journey is too great for you.

(1Kings 19:7 ESV)

The journey is too great for you.

The journey. The path. What would be encountered. How long it would take. Regardless of the victories along the way, without God’s enabling provision, the journey is too great for you.

Even for those who consider themselves self-made men, or self-made women, without God’s common grace and basic provisions for life, they’d never be able to even think they’re making the trip on their own.

What a blessing to know the journey’s too great. How needful to know that apart from Jesus we can do nothing (Jn. 15:5).

To receive His provision. To hear His voice in the “thin silence” (19:12). Because of our inability to go it alone, to know daily encounters of the divine kind as we abide in Him. All are benefits of knowing — and embracing — that the journey is too great.

Too great? Praise God! For it’s in our weakness that His power is experientially known (2Cor. 12:9)?

But it is but a journey, it is not forever. There’s a beginning and then there’s the destination. We’ll be home. Though the path has been long, though often hard, we’ll look back and say, “It was worth it all.” These present sufferings not worth comparing to the glory that lies ahead (Rom. 8:18). Whatever we encounter, eventually to be regarded as but “light momentary afflictions” having given way to “an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison” (2Cor. 4:17). No eye having seen, no ear having heard, no heart having imagined “what God has prepared for those who love Him” (1Cor. 2:9). Yup, it’s gonna be worth it all!

Through many dangers, toils and snares,
I have already come;
‘Tis grace hath brought me safe thus far,
And grace will lead me home. (Amazing Grace, John Newton)

The journey IS too great for us. But grace WILL lead us home.

Praise Him for such grace.

To God be the glory.

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Feeding and Faith

Hovering over 1Kings 17 and 18 this morning, and I notice two instances of supernatural feeding and, in a sense, two instances of supernatural faith.

And the word of the LORD came to [Elijah]: “Depart from here and turn eastward and hide yourself by the brook Cherith, which is east of the Jordan. You shall drink from the brook, and I have commanded the ravens to feed you there.” . . . . Then the word of the LORD came to him, “Arise, go to Zarephath, which belongs to Sidon, and dwell there. Behold, I have commanded a widow there to feed you.

(1Kings 17:2-4, 8-9 ESV)

A faithful prophet in a hostile land. God’s messenger misaligned with prevailing views of what should be worshiped. Yet, God faithfully cares for the basic needs of His faithful servant. He commands the birds of the air and they feed him (17:6). He commands a widow whose cupboard is bare and she feeds him, as well (17:15).

But while the birds really didn’t have a choice, the woman very much had a freewill to direct. She was a widow, aka no one providing for her. She had a son, aka someone she needed to provide for. There was drought and famine, aka no provision. There wasn’t much food, aka how could she share what little she had? But she did.

Left with only a “handful of flour in a jar and a little oil in a jug” she’s ready to prepare a last meal for her and son before they starve to death. Then along comes Elijah and says, “Bring me a morsel of bread.” Give me some of the last food you possess. After informing the prophet of her situation,

Elijah said to her, “Do not fear; go and do as you have said. But first make me a little cake of it and bring it to me, and afterward make something for yourself and your son. For thus says the LORD, the God of Israel, ‘The jar of flour shall not be spent, and the jug of oil shall not be empty, until the day that the LORD sends rain upon the earth.'” And she went and did as Elijah said.

(1Kings 17:13-15a ESV)

Feeding Elijah before feeding her family was an act of faith. Believing the word of God she bowed to the express will of God. And thus, she placed her trust in God.

But she isn’t the only one making hard choices of faith. Cue Obadiah (1Ki. 18:1-19). King Ahab’s house manager, Obadiah has flirted with being found out for treason as he hides and feeds the prophets of God Ahab has determined to destroy. Elijah intercepts Obadiah one day and says, “Go tell your master I’m here and I want to see him.” Obadiah knows that’s a suicide mission if Elijah doesn’t show. But just as he had with the widow faced with a life and death decision, Elijah reassures Obadiah.

And Elijah said, “As the LORD of hosts lives, before whom I stand, I will surely show myself to [King Ahab] today.” So Obadiah went to meet Ahab, and told him.

(1Kings 18:15-16a ESV)

Two acts of feeding, two acts of faith. And I’m connecting those dots. A God who shows Himself faithful in the basics of life is a God who is worthy of being trusted with all of our lives. Not because the outcome is always guaranteed to be favorable, but because a God who commands the birds of the air and rules over the kings of the earth is a God who will keep his own through whatever the circumstance for whatever the outcome.

I’m thinking that every time we give thanks for our “daily bread”, the reminder of God’s faithful provision should bolster our holy determination to live obedient, faithful lives.

His daily demonstration of unfailing grace, compelling us to want to live for His everlasting glory.

Amen?

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Better Because of Community

Been on the road this week . . . drove down to LA, then San Diego and have been hanging out with my girls and their families . . . and sleeping really well at night, thanx to the grandsons. Quieter morning this morning, so just a quick thought from my morning’s reading.

. . . be filled with the Spirit, addressing one another in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing and making melody to the Lord with your heart, giving thanks always and for everything to God the Father in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, submitting to one another out of reverence for Christ. Wives, submit to your own husbands, as to the Lord.

(Ephesians 5:18b-22 ESV)

I can’t tell you how often when the subject has come around to “wives submit to your own husbands” (Eph. 5:22) that someone invariably brings up, “But hey, Ephesians 5:21 comes before that. So, shouldn’t the husband submit to his wife, as well?” And true enough. But to think of “submitting” as primarily a marriage thing is to think of it as too small a thing.

Isn’t the context for “submitting to one another” the same as “addressing one another” in songs of worship and thanksgiving? Yes, it is. And that sounds more like a church context than it does a marriage context. Is it a stretch to say that doing what we should be doing as part of a marriage is easier to do when we’re doing what we should be doing as part of the church? I don’t think so. I’m thinking everything is better when in the context of genuine, filled with the Spirit, Christian community.

In a sense, isn’t wives submitting to their own husbands (and husbands to their wives) an extension of every believer submitting to others within their church families? I’m thinkin’. And isn’t husbands loving their wives as Christ loved the church possible because they’ve already been practicing loving as Christ loved with their brothers and sisters in Christ? I’m thinkin’ that too. What we practice in the “one anothers” as the family of God should overflow into every other relationship. How we’re accustomed to treating others bought by the blood will impact how we treat others who are brought into our worlds. Marriage, work, neighbors, friends, and even foes — whatever the relationship, it is going to be better because of Christian community.

True? Should be, at least in theory.

And, seems to me, it can be.

By His grace. For His glory.

Hear my grandson stirring . . .

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A Big Ask

Talk about praying big prayers! Talking about going for broke on the ask! Then, you’re talking about Ephesians 3:14-21.

Chewing on Paul’s prayer for the Ephesian believers. And Paul swings for the fence.

He prays first that they be “strengthened with power” in their “inner being” through the Spirit of God. Okay, maybe not the biggest ask as the Spirit already indwells them. But here it’s not about being reminded of the Spirit’s placement but a request for practically knowing the Spirit’s power. And to what end? Now it starts getting big.

To the end that Christ would actively and continually inhabit their hearts, pervading and governing their lives through faith. So that, grounded in the love of Christ, they would have the ability to comprehend the incomprehensible dimensions of the love of Christ, laying hold of something beyond what they can get their arms around. And that so they would practically experience the love of Christ.

Did I mention this was big? Yeah? Well, it gets bigger. All this knowing the love of Christ which surpasses knowing is so that they would “be filled with the fullness of God.”

Filled with the fullness of God. Chew on that for a bit. Brings to mind that quote from Aladdin, “Phenomenal cosmic powers … Itty bitty living space.”

Filled with the fullness of God. Really? Yeah, really. That’s the prayer. That’s the ask. How big is that? Pretty big!

I’m okay with the “by faith” part. I believe the Spirit’s is in me, the Bible tells me so. I believe Christ dwells in my heart; the Bible tells me that too. But to comprehend it? To know it, like really know it, as in experientially know it? Ah, that seems like a stretch.

And, for sure it would be . . . if it were left up to me to make happen. But it ain’t.

For this reason I bow my knees before the Father, from whom every family in heaven and on earth is named, that according to the riches of His glory He may grant you to be . . .

(Ephesians 3:14-16a ESV)

What Paul prays for to be realized in me is furnished by the Father who is so far beyond me, the One who made me and redeemed me. What Paul prays I would know, like really know, is freely given me by the God who has already given me His best — not sparing His own Son but giving Him up for us all — and is now ready to graciously give us all things (Rom. 8:32).

Even being filled to the fullness of God? Yup, even that.

Big prayer because it draws on an unlimited, infinite resource. It’s not about the itty bitty living space. It’s all about the phenomenal cosmic power. Big prayer because we have a big God.

Now to Him who is able to do far more abundantly than all that we ask or think, according to the power at work within us, to Him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, forever and ever. Amen.

(Ephesians 3:20-21 ESV)

Able to do far more abundantly than what we could imagine or articulate. That’s our God. That’s the power granted us. That’s the power at work within us.

Ours is to know it through faith. Ours is to grow into it by faithfulness.

Big ask? Yeah, you bet. But far from an impossible ask. For with God all things are possible (Mk. 10:27).

By His grace. For His glory.

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Partakers of the Promise Together

This morning, I suffered a bit of a rebuke at the hands of my Greek lexicon. Reminded again that what I want to so readily think is about me is more often than not really about we.

This mystery is that the Gentiles are fellow heirs, members of the same body, and partakers of the promise in Christ Jesus through the gospel.

(Ephesians 3:6 ESV)

Partakers of the promise. That’s the phrase I started noodling on after my readings.

Paul calls it a mystery. Something God always had in mind but was hidden. Hinted at throughout His revelation, but through the gospel revealed in the fullness of its manifestation. The mystery that Gentiles were always intended to be joint heirs with God’s “chosen people” of Israel. Those who were once outsiders now declared insiders through faith in the finished work of Christ. No longer Jew and Gentile, just one body in Christ. All partakers of the promise. The promise made accessible through the gospel. The promise founded in Christ Jesus.

So, where do I go immediately? Well, I’m a Gentile. I’ve believed. Therefore, I am a partaker of the promise. Praise God! Let me bask in the wonder of a being a partaker. That’s what I’ll chew on this morning.

As I’m wont to do then, I look up the word for partakers in the Greek lexicon within the Bible program on my computer. What additional insight can I get from the original word that will remind me of how blessed I am? Did I mention the subtle rebuke part?

The original word is a two-part word. One part meaning sharing or partaking. The other part meaning with or beside. The translations which render it as “sharers together” (NIV), “fellow partakers” (NASB), or “partners” (CSB) provide the fuller sense more clearly. And if I had really paid attention to the context more carefully (i.e., “fellow heirs”, “same body”), the more consistent sense. Yes, I am a partaker of the promise, but I am a partaker with other partakers. Me partaking is designed to be done as we partake together.

How quick am I to make my salvation an individual sport rather than a team sport? Pretty quick!

How much of the world’s ways have crept into my thinking when I see my personal relationship with Jesus as something to first and foremost be personalized? My identity found more readily in who I am rather than in the community I belong to. My faith something to be individualized rather than exercised in the context of other believers.

For sure, I get to partake in the promises. But my release from the bondage of sin was designed so that I could partake in freedom with other partakers. My rescue from the tyranny of the flesh was so that I could be part of a spiritual body. My redemption from the empty offerings of this world was so that I could look forward to a heavenly inheritance with fellow heirs.

While heavens rejoices over one soul saved (Lk. 15:10), it is through the church–the collective community of born again believers–that the multi-faceted wisdom of God is made known to the rulers and authorities in heavenly places (Eph. 3:10).

We are partakers of the promise together.

By God’s grace. For God’s glory.

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The One Unfailing Constant

Two despondent soul conditions. Seven urgent asks. One unfailing constant. That’s what I’m hovering over this morning as I chew on Psalm 119:25-32.

Love the way Peterson gets to the heart of the songwriter’s desperate soul condition.

I’m feeling terrible—I couldn’t feel worse! . . . My sad life’s dilapidated, a falling-down barn . . .

(Psalm 119:25a, 28a MSG)

That morning when he got up, the psalmist’s soul was down. Though there had been weeping for the night, there was still no joy in the morning.

My soul clings to the dust . . . My soul melts away for sorrow . . .

(Psalm 119:25a, 28a MSG)

But far from wallowing in the dust, he turns his eyes to the heavens. He fights the darkness as he cries to the Light.

When I told of my ways, You answered me . . .

(Psalm 119:26a ESV)

And in telling God of what God already knew was his condition, the soul weary songwriter of Israel makes seven asks:

Give me life. Revive me (NKJV).
Teach me.
Make me understand.
Strengthen me.
Put false ways far from me.
Graciously teach me.
Enlarge my heart.

He needed a reviving. The cloud lifted, the invisible hand that was pressing on his chest removed. And so he asks the Author of life to infuse him with life. To strengthen the weakness within from a source without.

He didn’t need a pep talk. Platitudes weren’t going to cut it. He needed to learn afresh the things he had come to know. And so, he asks God to teach him. To graciously teach him as he beseeches the Creator to impart something of omniscience to His creation. To give new depths of perception and discernment. To provide an accurate lens through which to process an oppressive situation. Clear the way, he says, by helping me to discern the lies spoken not only by the enemy, but by myself — “barricade the road that goes Nowhere” (MSG).

And so, the songwriter concludes, “Enlarge my heart.” Minister to my soul, by setting free my heart. Prepare it to be taught. Make broad the way for it to receive Your instruction.

And that brings me to the one unfailing constant to which a twice failing soul makes a seven-fold ask. The word of God. The book before me.

. . . give me life according to Your word!
. . . teach me Your statutes!
Make me understand the way of Your precepts . . .
. . . strengthen me according to Your word!
. . . graciously teach me Your law!
I will run in the way of Your commandments when You enlarge my heart!

The Bible is a balm. The Scriptures the salve that can raise the soul from the dust. God’s word the difference between being perpetually haggard and promise-based hopeful.

I have chosen the way of faithfulness; I set Your rules before me.
I cling to Your testimonies, O LORD; let me not be put to shame!

(Psalm 119:30-31 ESV)

His word, His statutes, His precepts. His law, His commandments, His rules and testimonies. The one unfailing constant. And therein is found the answer for those who seek the LORD with dust covered souls.

Ours is to open the word, read the word, and meditate on the word. His is to illuminate the word and to apply the word.

By His grace. For His glory.

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