No Dominion

No way! Absolutely not! Uh, uh! Nope! That’s how Paul responds to the question. Kinda.

If grace is so great, if grace abounded where sin increased (Rom. 5:20), then should we continue in sin that grace may abound (Rom. 6:1)? By no means! Certainly not!

Message received.

But come on. I know me. How’s that even possible?

Possible because it’s no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me (Gal. 2:20). Possible because of my union with Christ.

We were buried therefore with Him by baptism into death, in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might walk in newness of life. For if we have been united with Him in a death like His, we shall certainly be united with Him in a resurrection like His.

(Romans 6:4-5 ESV)

United with Christ. That’s what makes not continuing in sin possible.

Not talking about being “sinless” — the flesh frustrates that — but talking about not abiding in sin. Not persevering in perpetual transgression. No longer content to walk contrary to God’s commands. Possible because I have been united with Him.

United with Him in death. United with Him in life after death. Christ rose from the dead never to die again, thus “death no longer has dominion over Him” (6:9). Likewise, having died to the old man enslaved by sin, I have been raised with Christ to be forever freed from sin. Or as Paul puts it, I need to consider myself “dead to sin” and “alive to God in Christ Jesus” (6:11). The result? No dominion.

For sin will have no dominion over you, since you are not under law but under grace.

(Romans 6:14 ESV)

No dominion. Sin can’t tell me how to live (MSG). Not my master (NASB). Sin is no longer the ruling default. That’s my reality when it comes to sin.

Not that I don’t sin, but that I am no longer a slave to sin. For grace abounds. It’s the trump card on every transgression which trips me up.

Thus, by grace I am free to pursue holiness. To present every part of me “to God as instruments for righteousness” (6:14). To choose to be holy, even while dealing with the failures of net yet fully being holy. All because I am deemed holy through my union with Christ.

No dominion. Worth chewing on, I think.

Because of grace. For His glory.

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Fell on Their Faces | Stands in God’s Presence

Not much sleeping last night, so double reading this morning. And as I’m reading this extended portion in Numbers, I’m aware of how my view of the grumbling Israelites has changed over the years. From once being in utter disbelief and even judgmental, to increasingly realizing I’m looking into a mirror.

They grumble because they’re thirsty. Then they grumble because they’re hungry. They grumble because the land of milk and honey promised to them is populated by enemies opposed to them (Num. 14). Korah & Co. rise up against Moses and Aaron and grumble against them, “Who put you in charge?” And then, when God judges Korah & Co. in front of the whole congregation by opening up the earth beneath them and swallowing them, the congregation grumbles against Moses and Aaron too, “You have killed the people of the LORD” (Num. 16).

Grumble, grumble, grumble. But it’s more than that. It’s grumble and suffer the consequences. Then grumble some more and suffer more consequences. And yet again, grumble and suffer severe consequences. Give your head a shake, people! Don’t you get it? Evidently not.

Now grumbling may not be my thing (though there’s probably too much of that too), but I’m so aware of the other sins which “doth so easily beset me” (Heb. 12:1 KJV). You think I’d learn. Evidently not. At least not as quickly as my spirit would like to. But the flesh is weak (Mt. 26:41). So with great discomfort, I’m relating way too much to the Israelites as I read this morning.

But here’s the observation I’m chewing on, and which is tasting so good! Something repeated three times in this morning’s double reading in Numbers. These grumblers had an intercessor.

Then Moses and Aaron fell on their faces before all the assembly of the congregation of the people of Israel.

And they fell on their faces and said, “O God, the God of the spirits of all flesh, shall one man sin, and will You be angry with all the congregation?”

“Get away from the midst of this congregation, that I may consume them in a moment.” And they fell on their faces.

(Numbers 14:5, 16:22, 16:45 ESV)

How sore must the noses of Moses and Aaron been? Pretty sore!

How thankful should the people have been? Pretty thankful!

Moses and Aaron prayed, prayed, and prayed again for the grumblers in the desert. They interceded for those God had delivered from bondage even as those who were freed kept turning back to Egypt. They advocated for the rebels God had purposed to redeem. And while there were consequences for the people’s repeated sin, while a whole generation never saw the promised land, the people of promise remained God’s promised people despite the sin which so easily beset them. All because Moses and Aaron fell on their faces.

And I’m reminded of my Intercessor. An Advocate who advocates in my repeated failure and weakness. Yet One who doesn’t go face down, but stands in God’s presence.

Who is to condemn? Christ Jesus is the one who died —  more than that, who was raised —  who is at the right hand of God, who indeed is interceding for us.

(Romans 8:34 ESV)

For Christ has entered, not into holy places made with hands, which are copies of the true things, but into heaven itself, now to appear in the presence of God on our behalf.

(Hebrews 9:24 ESV)

Consequently, He is able to save to the uttermost those who draw near to God through Him, since He always lives to make intercession for them.

(Hebrews 7:25 ESV)

My little children, I am writing these things to you so that you may not sin. But if anyone does sin, we have an Advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous.

(1 John 2:1 ESV)

To be sure, I read of the grumblers and see myself in a mirror. But I read of those who fell on their faces, and I see Jesus, the One who stands in God’s presence.

Hallelujah! What a Savior!

All because of His abundant grace. Only for His everlasting glory.

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Carried on the Shoulder

I tried Googling it. That’s not really serious research, but it’s worth a shot when you don’t think you can do the math yourself. The math in question? How much did the tabernacle in the wilderness weigh? The whole thing? The curtains and their posts which formed the walls of the outer courts? The laver? The altar? The curtains and covering for the tabernacle? All the gold-fashioned furniture of the holy place? The ark of the covenant and mercy seat? Add up the weight of all the materials, and how much did it weigh?

A quick scan through the search results didn’t give me a definitive answer. But what I did see in a number of the hits was the word “tons.” So, I’m thinking when moving the tabernacle through the wilderness those Levites charged with moving it were transporting tons of materials. That’s the assumption. That’s what I’m going with.

So, as I’m reading Numbers 7, I’m guessing when the sons of Gershon (who were to carry all the curtains and coverings), and the sons of Merari (who were to carry all the bars, pillars, and bases for the curtains and coverings as well as the equipment and accessories used in the tabernacle), and the sons of Kohath (who were to carry all the furniture from inside the tabernacle) saw the chiefs of Israel roll up with 6 hefty wagons and 12 power-pulling oxen, they were all pretty relieved and thankful.

First, Moses calls forward the sons of Gershon and gives them two wagons and four oxen to pull them. And then he turns to the sons of Merari and gives them the remaining four wagons and eight oxen. And at that moment, as they look at one another, for the sons of Kohath it becomes real — like really real! The theory they had been taught back in Numbers 4 becomes the reality of Numbers 7.

But to the sons of Kohath [Moses] gave none, because they were charged with the service of the holy things that had to be carried on the shoulder.

(Numbers 7:9 ESV)

Carried on the shoulder. That’s what I’m chewing on this morning.

The weight of the holy things from the holy place, when transported, was not to be loaded up on some wooden carts and hauled through the desert by some beasts of burden. No, when the holy things were moved, they were to be carried on the shoulder of the sons of men.

Now, when compared to the holy God of heaven, there might not seem to be a lot of difference between wooden carts, dumb animals, and sin-infected men. But among those three, only one was created in the image of God. Only one bears the DNA, physical and spiritual, of what God intended for those who He would have walked with in the garden. So only one would be set apart to bear the weight of holiness on their shoulders. Tons of weight, I’m thinking. What a burden!

Yet, what a privilege! To carry on their shoulders the vessels by which the holy God of heaven would reside in their midst, and through which the eternal God of heaven could be accessed by mere men. To be called to such a calling would be a call to a high, high calling. A great weight before God? To be sure. A great way to serve God? To be sure, even more.

Aren’t we called to something similar?

. . . but as He who called you is holy, you also be holy in all your conduct, since it is written, “You shall be holy, for I am holy.”

(1Peter 1:15-16 ESV)

It is not to inanimate objects or brainless beasts that God looks to cast His image, but upon men and women. Men and women created, and through rebirth re-created, to be like Himself for Himself. Men and women called to be holy for He is holy. Men and women who are to carry on their shoulder the holiness of God.

But though we’re not given vehicles to help transport such a weight, though no physical horsepower to pull such a heavy load, we have been yoked with the Son of God so that the weight of holiness is a burden we’re able to bear (Matt. 11:29-30). Christ living through us, by the ever-abiding presence of the Spirit of God living in us, so that those created in the image of God might live into the image of God. Being holy for He is holy.

The weight carried in the shadow of the cross. Ever accessible for those times when we stumble, for those things encountered which trip us up. An ever-present reminder that, though we seek to bear His holiness, the blood of Jesus is always sufficient to cleanse us from our sin.

Carried on the shoulder.

Something worth noodling on, I think.

By His grace. For His glory.

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Right Sacrifice, Right Setting, Real Salvation

Hovering over Psalm 50 this morning.

At its essence, the song seems to be a wakeup call for the people of God. People who are faithful in religious ritual to God but far away in real relationship with God. A people who have become accustomed to thinking that their obedience in bringing animal sacrifices to the temple is somehow meeting the needs of a God who has need of nothing, “For every beast of the forest is Mine, the cattle on a thousand hills . . . and all that moves in the field is Mine” (50:10-11).

Instead, God says, I’m not interested in ritualistic sacrifice, I desire right sacrifice. I don’t really care about your by rote sequences, but more about directing your life based on the right settings. Then, says God, I will be glorified. And you? You will know a real salvation.

“Offer to God a sacrifice of thanksgiving, and perform your vows to the Most High, and call upon Me in the day of trouble; I will deliver you, and you shall glorify Me.”

(Psalm 50:14-15 ESV)

“The one who offers thanksgiving as his sacrifice glorifies Me; to one who orders his way rightly I will show the salvation of God!”

(Psalm 50:23 ESV)

It’s been said here before, repetition is the megaphone of Scripture. And here we have repetition. God is shouting to His people.

Thanksgiving glorifies God. Living in a manner consistent with our calling glorifies God. Seeking Him in the day of trouble glorifies God. Living in the reality of the on-going need for His daily deliverance glorifies God. These, at least in part, are the dynamics of a real salvation.

A reminder that we can honor God with our lips yet have hearts far from Him. A check on our propensity to order our way according to our own way under the guise of walking in His way. A wake up call that self-sufficiency has a way of stifling a living and active relationship with the One who redeemed us for Himself. A reorientation to do whatever we do for the glory of God.

So, it seems to me, it starts with a right sacrifice, an offering of thanksgiving overshadowing all other offerings. It depends on a right setting, ordering our walk according to His word and walking our walk in prayerful dependence on His power. Thus resulting in a real salvation. A living relationship with the living God. An active engagement with the One who created us and is re-creating us.

And all this for His glory.

And all this only by His grace.

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A Pleasing Theme

That it is a Messianic psalm is without question. Hebrews 1:8-9 clearly declares that Psalm 45:6-7 refers to God’s Son, the One by whom God has spoken to us in these last days, the One who is “the radiance of the glory of God and the exact imprint of His nature”, the One who “after making purification for sins, sat down at the right hand of the Majesty on high” (Heb. 1:1-3). What a glorious psalm! A song worthy singing. The songwriter thought so.

My heart overflows with a pleasing theme; I address my verses to the King; my tongue is like the pen of a ready scribe.

(Psalm 45:1 ESV)

A pleasing theme. A noble theme (CSB). A good theme (NKJV). Rich. Valuable in estimation. A theme worth chewing on. Such is the theme of the King.

We look back and we see the Servant Son. The One who came the first time not to be served but to serve and to give His life as a ransom for many. We meditate on how “God so loved the world” and our regenerated hearts are stirred with gratitude, our redeemed souls moved to worship. But to cast the mind’s eye to the future when we will behold the Son as the King of kings, to envision that day when we see Him arrayed in might, glory, and majesty? That, says the songwriter, should be enough to make our Spirit-infused hearts overflow with such a pleasing theme.

Paul tells us what to do with pleasing themes.

Finally, brothers [sisters], whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.

(Philippians 4:8 ESV)

Is there excellence in the theme of the King? Yes sir! Is there anything worthy of praise in a Sovereign who gave Himself to be our Savior? I’m thinkin’. Should we think about about these things? Absolutely!

Be still my soul. Be still and know that the Son is God. That He is King. And the King really is coming. Think about these things.

Yes, Jesus is true. He is honorable, He is just. Jesus is pure, the King altogether lovely. His name is commendable. In essence He is excellent, defining what it means to be virtuous. Jesus is worthy of praise.

Think about these things. Overflow with a pleasing theme.

In the early morning hours when all is quiet around you, let your heart be stirred with such a noble theme that it is overwhelmed to gushing forth with thoughts fit for the King. Thoughts which escape as whispers declaring the wonder of the King. Whispers becoming songs of the beauty and majesty of the King. And dare to believe such thoughts, whispers, and songs actually bring joy to the King as He hears them in His heavenly kingdom.

A pleasing theme. That’s what I am chewing on this morning.

By His grace. For His glory.


FYI: On the road for the next week to connect with family. Not sure how consistent I will be with getting fingers to keyboard in the morning.

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The God to Whom I Belong

Reading about Paul’s Mediterranean cruise this morning in Acts 27. I think he should ask for his money back.

Poor sailing conditions. Bad decision making. A “tempestuous wind, called the northeaster.” All leading to being so “storm-tossed” that they “jettison the cargo,” they “threw the ship’s tackle overboard,” they run out of food, and “all hope of our being saved was at last abandoned.” Did I say Paul should be asking for a refund?

But God has plans for Paul in Rome. And God’s purposes lead to a midnight promise. And a midnight promise prompts the following proclamation:

“Men, you should have listened to me and not have set sail from Crete and incurred this injury and loss. 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 27:21-25 ESV)

The God to whom I belong. Hmmm . . .

The God whose I am. The God who has purchased me for His own. The God who has set me apart. The God who has translated me out of the kingdom of darkness into His kingdom of light. The God who has adopted me as a son. The God who has betrothed me as part of the Bride. The God to whom I belong.

I know it’s about Him, but what comfort to know that He’s made it about me as well. He is the God to whom I belong.

Good to know in the storm. Worth remembering when the ship’s going down.

Not many of us are going to have that reality refreshed by a visiting angel in the night, but I can be reminded of it by opening my bible every day. Happened this morning.

So take heart. Have faith. Ride out the storm by His all sufficient grace. Have faith that it will be exactly as God has determined.

For He is the God to whom we belong.

Saved by grace. Being saved by grace. Yet to be saved by grace.

And all for His glory.

Amen?

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A Lifeline

David knew about cause and effect. He connected the dots between external circumstance and internal response. Know the ever-present reality of oppression and distress without? Be consumed by darkness and mourning within. Experience unrelenting obstacles day after day? Be prone to feelings of divine abandonment night after night. The cause and effect were undeniable. The connection between “quality of life” and “quality of worship” was understandable. But this morning as I’m hovering over the forty-third psalm, beyond the rawness of the songwriter’s feelings of having been rejected by the God in whom he has taken refuge, I notice his plea. I’m struck by what someone whose soul is cast down asks of the God he trusts.

The songwriter asks God to intervene as judge. To defend his cause. To deliver him from the ungodly and unjust. And he does so, at least in part, because of the effect it is having on him. “I go about mourning” (v.2). His soul is cast down, forced to its knees by waves of despair. Turmoil, an inner turbulent commotion, is his “new norm (v.5). The inner storm draining energy from what his soul truly desires. To abide where God dwells. To bring offerings with great joy. To worship. And so he prays, “Throw me a lifeline.”

Send out Your light and Your truth; let them lead me; let them bring me to Your holy hill and to Your dwelling! Then I will go to the altar of God, to God my exceeding joy, and I will praise You with the lyre, O God, my God.

(Psalm 43:3-4 ESV)

Send out Your light. Let loose Your truth. For they are a lifeline that can guide me to where You tabernacle.

Jesus is light and truth. Jesus said, “I am the light of the world” (Jn. 8:12). He proclaimed, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life” (Jn. 14:6). So, could we not rewrite the song?

Father, show me afresh the Son! Calm the inner storm that I might see again the cross and know again that if You are with me, who can be against me. That if You did not spare Your own Son but gave Him up for us all, how will You not also with Him graciously give us all things? (Rom. 8:31-32)

The Spirit is light and truth. Jesus, referring to Him as “the Spirit of truth” (Jn 15:26), sent Him to illuminate the Scriptures, to “teach you all things and bring to your remembrance all that I have said you” (Jn. 14:26). So, could we not pen lyrics like this?

Father, help me to hear again the whisper of the Spirit’s voice. To be still and believe that I have not been left to my own devices to wage the battle or find the way, but that the Helper has sealed me and has promised to lead me.

And, beyond the “intangibles” of the Savior in whom I abide and His Spirit who abides in me, there is my Bible, the inspired Word of God, something I can lay hands on at will. And it is light, “a lamp to my feet and a light to my path” (Ps. 119:105). And it is truth, “The sum of Your word is truth, and every one of Your righteous rules endures forever” (Ps. 119:160). And so again, might we take license with the songwriter’s words?

Let Your Word be the light and truth that leads me again to Your holy hill and to Your dwelling!

Throw me a lifeline? Our faithful Father has — a three-corded lifeline, not easily broken (Eccl. 4:12). It is found in every remembrance of His Son. It is grasped every time we acknowledge the Spirit’s indwelling presence and promise of help. It draws us into His holy presence every time we open the Word, and chew on the Word, and “taste and see that the Lord is good” (Ps. 34:8).

Then I will go to the altar of God, to God my exceeding joy, and I will praise You with the lyre, O God, my God.

Praise God for the lifeline of light and truth. Manifest in His Son. Revealed by His Spirit. Found in His Word.

All through wondrous grace. All for His eternal glory.

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A “Both/And” Thing

It’s a song of depression. Of a “cast down” soul. The seat of human emotions in deep despair as waves of unrelenting trials break over the songwriter. Day and night tears are the psalmist’s food as a voice echoes continually, “Where is your God?” The dire condition of the soul exacerbated with memories of better times, more hopeful times, times when singing at the top of your lungs was something you couldn’t help but do. And so, the soul of the songwriter, dry as a desert, pants for flowing streams, thirsting for the living God. Longing to know an end of drowning in waves of despair, and to again drink deeply from a fountain of living water.

But I’m wondering, as I chew on Psalm 42 this morning, if it doesn’t have to be an “either/or” thing but can actually be a “both/and” thing.

Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you in turmoil within me? Hope in God; for I shall again praise Him, my salvation and my God.

(Psalm 42:11 ESV)

Twice the psalmist sings these words (verses 5-6a and verse 11). In modern song structure, I’d call this the refrain. It’s the chorus. The big idea the songwriter wants to get across. And if I’m picking up what the songwriter’s saying it’s that even in a soul’s cast down condition, even amidst the turbulence, it can hope in God. And in hoping in God, there can be refreshment for the soul.

Lift up the cast down eyes and fix them on the God of your salvation. Believe that He who has already delivered you from a life of bondage and slavery to sin will, one day, again deliver you from the burden and suffering of overwhelming sorrow. Hope in God.

Easy to type, harder to do. I know.

But the soul which thirsts for God can taste the goodness of God even as it yearns for God in the midst of seasons of confusion permitted by God. The desperation creating a situation where nothing else can satisfy and so, if only a drop of living water falls on the tongue through hope, the soul is encouraged. Encouraged to hope a greater hope, that by waiting on God and meditating on His word, that drop of living water can become a stream. And by the Spirit indwelling the child of God, that stream might even become a flowing river.

He is our God. He is our salvation — past, present, and future. We shall again praise Him.

So cast down soul, hope in God. And taste and see that the Lord is good.

Hope amidst despair. Water in a dry land. It can be a “both/and” thing.

By His grace. For His glory.

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A “Step One” Savior

Don’t know if I’m connecting dots here that should be connected, but let’s run with it.

Hovering over Matthew 18:15-20, a “go to” passage when it comes to church discipline. A progressive path towards calling a brother (or sister) to repentance who “sins against you.” Step one, try and work it out between the two of you. Step two, if that doesn’t work bring in some “witnesses.” Still no movement? Step three, tell it to the church. And if he (or she) still refuses to acknowledge, confess, and repent of their sin, then step four — treat him (or her) as an unbeliever, as someone outside the church. Get it? Got it? Good.

For many though, the thought of getting to step four is really, really uncomfortable.

But then I read Matthew 18:21. And if I’m connecting dots that I’m allowed to connect, it’s step one that gave Peter heartburn.

Then Peter came up and said to Him, “Lord, how often will my brother sin against me, and I forgive him? As many as seven times?”

(Matthew 18:21 ESV)

I’m thinking that, most often, if we shy away from step one it’s for fear it won’t work and then we’ll have to move on to steps two, three, and four. But it seems here Peter’s noodling on the implications of what could happen if step one does work. And then works again. And then works again.

Is Peter envisioning the scenario where a brother sins against him, he goes to that brother and tells him his fault, the brother listens, repents, and they’re restored, but then his brother does it to him again?

Peter’s obeyed and done step one and it works — he has “gained” his brother? Peter’s won his brother back. He’s helped him escape evil. He’s preserved him from the effects of unconfessed sin (Ps. 66:18). But sin being what sin is, and the flesh being what the flesh is, the brother falls again and sins against Peter. Is it back to step one? And if step one works again, then what about the next time? And the next time? How often, asks Peter, do I do the “one step” with this brother and forgive him when he repents? Seven times?

Nope, says Jesus, seventy-seven. That’s how the ESV reads. Seventy times seven according to other translations. Really? Yeah, really. Hmmm . . .

I’m guessing for most of us, avoiding step one for fear of eventually ending up at step four is less a thing than doing step one only to do step one again . . . and maybe again . . . and maybe again again. Easier to write-off a brother (or a sister) than to deal with the emotional roller-coaster of being offended, confronting, forgiving, and then being offended again. 490 times? Brother! Or . . . Sister!

But hey, if this really is a “brother”, if I’m truly seeing my offender as a “sister”, and they really are sorry for their sin, and they sincerely want to do better in their spirit but their flesh is weak, then what kind of effort am I willing to make for the sake of a member of my family? For the building up of the church? For the sake of obedience to Christ?

Okay, the more I chew on this, the more uncomfortable I become. If I’m connecting dots that can be connected, I get why Peter’s asking the question.

But if I’m willing to also connect the dots that I just might be that offending brother — if against no else than against the Lord — then how thankful am I that Jesus is a “step one” Savior? Confronting me by His Spirit of my offense against Him, again and again. In His Father’s kindness, leading me to repentance, again and again. Through His blood shed on Calvary, ready, willing, and able to forgive my sin (again and again) and cleans me from all unrighteousness (again and again).

So, how often will my brother (or sister) sin against me and I forgive him (or her)?

As many as a willing spirit and the abundant grace of God enables.

As many as the glory of God deserves.

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Not To Give Offense

The key that unlocks understanding the passage is identifying what the “two-drachma tax” was. It wasn’t a Roman tax collector who came knocking. Nor was it a Jewish tax collector working for Rome. Instead it was a temple tax collector providing opportunity to support financially the cost of running the temple at Jerusalem with a half shekel offering. A practice instituted by God through Moses back in Exodus for servicing the tent of meeting (Ex. 30:11-16). Understanding what tax we’re talking about opens the door to the claim Jesus was making.

When they came to Capernaum, the collectors of the two-drachma tax went up to Peter and said, “Does your teacher not pay the tax?” He said, “Yes.” And when he came into the house, Jesus spoke to him first, saying, “What do you think, Simon? From whom do kings of the earth take toll or tax? From their sons or from others?” And when he said, “From others,” Jesus said to him, “Then the sons are free. However, not to give offense to them, go to the sea and cast a hook and take the first fish that comes up, and when you open its mouth you will find a shekel. Take that and give it to them for Me and for yourself.”

(Matthew 17:24-26 ESV)

So many things worth chewing on here.

First, there’s Jesus’ demonstration of deity — His omniscience. He knows the conversation Peter’s had with the tax collector. He knows the rash promise Peter made about paying. So, before Peter can talk to Jesus about how to deliver on the promise he had made, “Jesus spoke to him first.” In addition, Jesus knows there’s a fish with a coin in its belly — a shekel, enough for taxes for two. So, He sends Peter to go fishing, also knowing that the first fish Peter hooks is gonna be that money fish.

Then, there’s Jesus’ claim to deity. Kings of the earth collect taxes from others in order to underwrite the needs of their household — they don’t collect taxes from their own family. The sons are free. Thus, taxes for the Father’s house were never intended to be paid by the Son. So Jesus is, in effect, asserting again, “I am the Son of God.”

But here’s what I’m noodling on this morning, Jesus’ decision not to give offense.

He didn’t have to pay the tax for the house of God, it was His house. While it wasn’t a great sum of money (and apparently the Lord of Creation had access to aquatic ATM’s at will), He could have held there was a principle at stake — the sons are free. Yet, for Jesus, this was not a battle worth fighting. This was not a potential teachable moment which needed to be seized, nor a divine object lesson that needed to be pressed. Go fishing Peter, says Jesus, and pay the tax.

The wisdom of deity. Refusing to give offense where offense isn’t needed. Going with the flow when it best serves the long game of making the kingdom known. That’s what I’m chewing on.

Oh, there would come a time when Jesus would give offense concerning His Father’s house. A time when we would clean house. Then He would assert His authority as the Son. But when it came to four drachmas, when it came to a shekel, when it came to a coin in the belly of a fish, “take that and give it to them for Me and yourself.”

How I need such wisdom. To know when letting it go and avoiding offense is actually the wiser strategy for the long game. To not be so quick to make every matter a matter of principle that needs to be defended. To be more like Jesus.

By His grace. For His glory.

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