Walking with the Wise (Psalm 1)
When days seem to merge into each other, with few dividing lines, it's important to remind ourselves that each day is full of decisions to make, often taken without much reflection. Some of those choices are mundane; others are weighty.
The beginning of the book of Psalms is a striking portrayal of two ways: the way of the wicked and the way of the righteous; the broad versus the narrow way - one leading to destruction, the other to eternal life.
The opening verses warn us of dangers to which we must be alert. The counsel of the ungodly; the way of sinners; the company of mockers. If those phrases sound antiquated the dangers they represent remain real and deadly. It's impossible for us to not live 'in the world'; our Lord Jesus deliberately chose not to pray for us to be taken from it (John 17:15). But being in the world means seeing the challenge of the cultural waters we swim in - recognising its potential impact upon us, even while we sleep; seeing the inherent pull of not standing out from a crowd, our hearts courting acceptance. Words and ways, attitudes and actions - all take their baleful toll on us.
Choices have to be made as to how we limit that exposure and defuse its harm. That will inevitably mean thoughtful, prayerful responses to questions about social media, relationships, the cultural 'kool aid' and more besides. None of us find that easy. All of us can readily see where others are in danger but fail so often to see that we are susceptible in ways we're just not alert to. This ought to humble us.
Yet those choices have a positive expression, too. The counter-portrait in the psalm is of one whose delight is in the law of the LORD and who meditates upon it, day and night. That delight and meditation are often taken as a focus on issues of morality and a thoroughgoing commitment to Bible reading. Both of those are deeply significant but neither is the full realisation of what is here.
Christ is the goal, the culmination, of the law, says Paul (Rom 10:4), its final fulfilment. What the law was powerless to do - release from sin and its power and renew the human heart - God did by sending his Son as a sin offering (Rom 8:3) and sending the Spirit of his Son into our hearts (Gal 4:6). To set our minds on things above, where Christ is, seated at God's right hand, is to do all that Psalm 1 proposes but now in full flower. The delight in the law is shown to be a shadow of the heart's cry, "I want to know Christ..." (Phil 3:10).
And it is in our Lord Jesus Christ that the true prosperity spoken of in Psalm 1 reaches its peak, where the conditions for real flourishing are met: the life of God flowing deep and wide within the souls of men and women, being remade in the likeness of the Son; the Spirit working his matchless fruit in lives that once were as insubstantial as chaff and as barren as scorched earth. Such lives, even under adverse circumstances, in the searing heat of trials and temptations, are fed by streams of living water and will not wither and die. The living God dwells within them.
Our Lord divided humanity into the wise and the foolish, according to their response to his words. Once more, today, we have decisions to take, choices to make. May we be given grace to choose wisely, animated in love by the Spirit of the living God.
************
O Lamb of God, still keep me
Close to Thy pierced side:
'Tis only there in safety
And peace I can abide.
What foes and snares surround me,
What lusts and fears within!
The grace that sought and found me
Alone can keep me clean.
'Tis only in Thee hiding
I feel myself secure;
Only in Thee abiding,
The conflict can endure.
Thine arm the victory gaineth
O'er every hateful foe;
Thy love my heart sustaineth
In all its cares and woe.
Soon shall my eyes behold Thee
With rapture face to face;
One half hath not been told me
Of all Thy power and grace.
Thy beauty, Lord, and glory,
The wonders of Thy love,
Shall be the endless story
Of all Thy saints above.
James George Deck, 1802-84
Friday 29 May 2020
Tuesday 26 May 2020
Joy in the Journey (21) - To seek and to save the lost
To seek and to save the lost (Luke 19:1-10)
For a few weeks our society seemed mostly united, gathered around the approach being taken to the crisis. Of course not all spoke in support but there was a genuine feeling of solidarity and something of a wartime spirit seemed to settle over us.
That seems long gone now. Many voices are being raised in opposition not simply to the government’s handling of things but against strangers and colleagues and even neighbours and family, who are either breaking the rules or who want us to stick too firmly to them (you take your pick). Self-justification through damning others is back and in full swing.
We were - and we are - a divided society. Curved-in upon ourselves in sin; biting and devouring each other.
Zacchaeus knew what it was like to be on the wrong side of his society. An excluded, despised man and, many of his fellow citizens would have argued, for good reason: he exploited and cheated them and had got rich at their expense. He collaborated with their pagan overlords; if God was angry with the nation it was on account of people like him. A selfish man, looking after number 1.
What will Jesus make of him?
Luke’s Gospel was written to someone who was probably fairly well-to-do and Luke accents Jesus’ teaching about riches in a number of ways, essentially saying 2 things: use your wealth to benefit others and don’t rely on it to give you standing before God. The status it confers is fleeting and deceptive.
So you could imagine his response to someone like Zacchaeus is going to be pretty sharp. Yet one word sums it up: Lost (v.10). He is a man who needs to be found. A man needing rescue, from himself at the very least. A man whose social isolation is killing him. He needs to be rehabilitated, restored into true relationship with God and others.
The initiative to do so is taken by Jesus. He sees him, calls him down and demands they be friends. And it is these overtures of grace that change Zacchaeus and renew his heart, leading him to repentance ('If I have cheated anybody...I’ll pay back') and faith (which marks him out as a son of Abraham, not his ancestry). It is the sheer kindness of God that leads him to repentance and to owning Jesus as Lord.
Our Lord Jesus came "to seek and to save the lost", not to leave them high and dry, nor to engage in the politics of division. He rehabilitates into fellowship with God and pulls down the walls of hostility that divide us from each other. He saw us when we were hopelessly lost, badly scarred and prisoners of sin. He gave himself, to the death of the cross, to find us, to save us. "Amazing pity, grace unknown and love beyond degree!"
And that lays before us a pattern to follow, a spirit to imbibe. Where accusations fly and tempers fray, it is easy to see others as troublemakers, bitter-minded people who turn everything they touch into ashes, perpetually on the take and self-consumed. The reality is that they are lost. They need to be found by the grace and compassion of Jesus.
Let’s pray that our words - in person or online - will be “full of grace and seasoned with salt”; words that are flavoured with the winsome invitation of Jesus, words that are soft and calming, compassionate and humane. Words that open the path to friendship and perhaps even into God’s family.
************
Not what I am, O Lord, but what Thou art!
That, that alone, can be my soul’s true rest;
Thy love, not mine, bids fear and doubt depart,
And stills the tempest of my tossing breast.
Thy Name is Love! I hear it from yon cross;
Thy Name is Love! I read it in yon tomb;
All meaner love is perishable dross,
But this shall light me through time’s thickest gloom.
Girt with the love of God on every side,
Breathing that love as heaven's own healing air,
I work or wait, still following my Guide,
Braving each foe, escaping every snare.
’Tis what I know of Thee, my Lord and God,
That fills my soul with peace, my lips with song;
Thou art my health, my joy, my staff and rod;
Leaning on Thee, in weakness I am strong.
More of Thyself, O show me, hour by hour,
More of Thy glory, O my God and Lord;
More of Thyself, in all Thy grace and power;
More of Thy love and truth, incarnate Word.
Horatius Bonar, 1808-89
For a few weeks our society seemed mostly united, gathered around the approach being taken to the crisis. Of course not all spoke in support but there was a genuine feeling of solidarity and something of a wartime spirit seemed to settle over us.
That seems long gone now. Many voices are being raised in opposition not simply to the government’s handling of things but against strangers and colleagues and even neighbours and family, who are either breaking the rules or who want us to stick too firmly to them (you take your pick). Self-justification through damning others is back and in full swing.
We were - and we are - a divided society. Curved-in upon ourselves in sin; biting and devouring each other.
Zacchaeus knew what it was like to be on the wrong side of his society. An excluded, despised man and, many of his fellow citizens would have argued, for good reason: he exploited and cheated them and had got rich at their expense. He collaborated with their pagan overlords; if God was angry with the nation it was on account of people like him. A selfish man, looking after number 1.
What will Jesus make of him?
Luke’s Gospel was written to someone who was probably fairly well-to-do and Luke accents Jesus’ teaching about riches in a number of ways, essentially saying 2 things: use your wealth to benefit others and don’t rely on it to give you standing before God. The status it confers is fleeting and deceptive.
So you could imagine his response to someone like Zacchaeus is going to be pretty sharp. Yet one word sums it up: Lost (v.10). He is a man who needs to be found. A man needing rescue, from himself at the very least. A man whose social isolation is killing him. He needs to be rehabilitated, restored into true relationship with God and others.
The initiative to do so is taken by Jesus. He sees him, calls him down and demands they be friends. And it is these overtures of grace that change Zacchaeus and renew his heart, leading him to repentance ('If I have cheated anybody...I’ll pay back') and faith (which marks him out as a son of Abraham, not his ancestry). It is the sheer kindness of God that leads him to repentance and to owning Jesus as Lord.
Our Lord Jesus came "to seek and to save the lost", not to leave them high and dry, nor to engage in the politics of division. He rehabilitates into fellowship with God and pulls down the walls of hostility that divide us from each other. He saw us when we were hopelessly lost, badly scarred and prisoners of sin. He gave himself, to the death of the cross, to find us, to save us. "Amazing pity, grace unknown and love beyond degree!"
And that lays before us a pattern to follow, a spirit to imbibe. Where accusations fly and tempers fray, it is easy to see others as troublemakers, bitter-minded people who turn everything they touch into ashes, perpetually on the take and self-consumed. The reality is that they are lost. They need to be found by the grace and compassion of Jesus.
Let’s pray that our words - in person or online - will be “full of grace and seasoned with salt”; words that are flavoured with the winsome invitation of Jesus, words that are soft and calming, compassionate and humane. Words that open the path to friendship and perhaps even into God’s family.
************
Not what I am, O Lord, but what Thou art!
That, that alone, can be my soul’s true rest;
Thy love, not mine, bids fear and doubt depart,
And stills the tempest of my tossing breast.
Thy Name is Love! I hear it from yon cross;
Thy Name is Love! I read it in yon tomb;
All meaner love is perishable dross,
But this shall light me through time’s thickest gloom.
Girt with the love of God on every side,
Breathing that love as heaven's own healing air,
I work or wait, still following my Guide,
Braving each foe, escaping every snare.
’Tis what I know of Thee, my Lord and God,
That fills my soul with peace, my lips with song;
Thou art my health, my joy, my staff and rod;
Leaning on Thee, in weakness I am strong.
More of Thyself, O show me, hour by hour,
More of Thy glory, O my God and Lord;
More of Thyself, in all Thy grace and power;
More of Thy love and truth, incarnate Word.
Horatius Bonar, 1808-89
Friday 22 May 2020
Joy in the Journey (20) - The renewal of all things
The renewal of all things (Mt. 19:28)
For the past weeks - in reality, months - the sound of birdsong has been heard with unusual clarity, as though the air has been thinned and its humidity lifted. But, slowly, the background hum is returning - the grey noise of traffic, distant and near, takes the edge off the birds’ tremulous praise.
We’re well attuned to that hum in our lives: the incessant drone of anxiety, of compromise and senseless suffering. Our souls long for mornings that are free of that kind of traffic, void of the heat-haze of earth’s sorrows.
In such a world, the words of Jesus sparkle with hope as crystal-clear as the morning dew: “At the renewal of all things…”. All things made new, all harm removed, all that is sullied made clean. The prospect is climactic.
This renewal of all things will happen, our Lord says, “when the Son of Man sits on his glorious throne”, when “a King shall reign in righteousness”. Ascension Day has reminded us that day has come - in honour of Jesus’ obedience to the death of the cross, “God exalted him to the highest place”. But all things are clearly not yet renewed.
No, not yet, not finally. But the renewal has begun: “He saved us through the washing of rebirth and renewal by the Holy Spirit”; “If anyone is in Christ - new creation!”.
Lives made new, washed clean and repristinated into the glad and holy service of the King of Kings. “Born again into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead,” a hope that sustains by a joy that is inexpressibly glorious, in the salvation of our souls.
The heaviness that characterises much of our life now is testimony to the unfinished work of renewal. But it is also, in itself, evidence of its certain coming. Hearts of stone turned into hearts of flesh in the new birth, made sensitive by the Spirit, feeling their own weakness and touched with the pains of this present world. These are the signs and the fruit of renewal.
And as that daily renewal continues, slowly silencing the intrusive noise that weights our hearts with sorrows, the final renewal of all things will mean that “The former things will not be remembered”. They will not come to mind, for full atonement has been made through the sufferings of the Saviour and all wounds will have been finally healed by the love of God. No longer the background hum of ache or anguish, no nagging doubts to cloud the skies, but the sheer, endless joy of delight in the living God.
“At the renewal of all things.” Even so, come Lord Jesus.
************
The sands of time are sinking;
The dawn of heaven breaks;
The summer morn I’ve sighed for,
The fair, sweet morn, awakes:
Dark, dark hath been the midnight,
But day-spring is at hand,
And glory, glory dwelleth
In Immanuel’s land.
The King there in His beauty,
Without a veil is seen;
It were a well-spent journey,
Though seven deaths lay between;
The Lamb with His fair army,
Doth on Mount Zion stand,
And glory, glory dwelleth
In Immanuel’s land.
O Christ, He is the fountain,
The deep, sweet well of love;
The streams on earth I’ve tasted,
More deep I’ll drink above;
There, to an ocean fullness,
His mercy doth expand,
And glory, glory dwelleth
In Immanuel’s land.
With mercy and with judgement
My web of time He wove,
And aye the dews of sorrow
Were lustred with His love:
I'll bless the hand that guided,
I'll bless the heart that planned,
When throned where glory dwelleth
In Immanuel's land.
The bride eyes not her garment,
But her dear bridegroom’s face;
I will not gaze at glory,
But on my King of grace;
Not at the crown He giveth,
But on His pierced hand:
The Lamb is all the glory
Of Immanuel’s land.
I've wrestled on towards heaven,
'Gainst storm and wind and tide;
Now, like a weary traveller
That leans upon his guide,
Amid the shades of evening,
While sinks life's lingering sand,
I hail the glory dawning
From Immanuel's land.
Anne Ross Cousin, 1824-1906
(References: Mt. 19:28; Is. 32:1; Phil. 2:9; Titus 3:5; 2 Cor. 5:17; 1 Peter 1:3; Is. 65:17)
For the past weeks - in reality, months - the sound of birdsong has been heard with unusual clarity, as though the air has been thinned and its humidity lifted. But, slowly, the background hum is returning - the grey noise of traffic, distant and near, takes the edge off the birds’ tremulous praise.
We’re well attuned to that hum in our lives: the incessant drone of anxiety, of compromise and senseless suffering. Our souls long for mornings that are free of that kind of traffic, void of the heat-haze of earth’s sorrows.
In such a world, the words of Jesus sparkle with hope as crystal-clear as the morning dew: “At the renewal of all things…”. All things made new, all harm removed, all that is sullied made clean. The prospect is climactic.
This renewal of all things will happen, our Lord says, “when the Son of Man sits on his glorious throne”, when “a King shall reign in righteousness”. Ascension Day has reminded us that day has come - in honour of Jesus’ obedience to the death of the cross, “God exalted him to the highest place”. But all things are clearly not yet renewed.
No, not yet, not finally. But the renewal has begun: “He saved us through the washing of rebirth and renewal by the Holy Spirit”; “If anyone is in Christ - new creation!”.
Lives made new, washed clean and repristinated into the glad and holy service of the King of Kings. “Born again into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead,” a hope that sustains by a joy that is inexpressibly glorious, in the salvation of our souls.
The heaviness that characterises much of our life now is testimony to the unfinished work of renewal. But it is also, in itself, evidence of its certain coming. Hearts of stone turned into hearts of flesh in the new birth, made sensitive by the Spirit, feeling their own weakness and touched with the pains of this present world. These are the signs and the fruit of renewal.
And as that daily renewal continues, slowly silencing the intrusive noise that weights our hearts with sorrows, the final renewal of all things will mean that “The former things will not be remembered”. They will not come to mind, for full atonement has been made through the sufferings of the Saviour and all wounds will have been finally healed by the love of God. No longer the background hum of ache or anguish, no nagging doubts to cloud the skies, but the sheer, endless joy of delight in the living God.
“At the renewal of all things.” Even so, come Lord Jesus.
************
The sands of time are sinking;
The dawn of heaven breaks;
The summer morn I’ve sighed for,
The fair, sweet morn, awakes:
Dark, dark hath been the midnight,
But day-spring is at hand,
And glory, glory dwelleth
In Immanuel’s land.
The King there in His beauty,
Without a veil is seen;
It were a well-spent journey,
Though seven deaths lay between;
The Lamb with His fair army,
Doth on Mount Zion stand,
And glory, glory dwelleth
In Immanuel’s land.
O Christ, He is the fountain,
The deep, sweet well of love;
The streams on earth I’ve tasted,
More deep I’ll drink above;
There, to an ocean fullness,
His mercy doth expand,
And glory, glory dwelleth
In Immanuel’s land.
With mercy and with judgement
My web of time He wove,
And aye the dews of sorrow
Were lustred with His love:
I'll bless the hand that guided,
I'll bless the heart that planned,
When throned where glory dwelleth
In Immanuel's land.
The bride eyes not her garment,
But her dear bridegroom’s face;
I will not gaze at glory,
But on my King of grace;
Not at the crown He giveth,
But on His pierced hand:
The Lamb is all the glory
Of Immanuel’s land.
I've wrestled on towards heaven,
'Gainst storm and wind and tide;
Now, like a weary traveller
That leans upon his guide,
Amid the shades of evening,
While sinks life's lingering sand,
I hail the glory dawning
From Immanuel's land.
Anne Ross Cousin, 1824-1906
(References: Mt. 19:28; Is. 32:1; Phil. 2:9; Titus 3:5; 2 Cor. 5:17; 1 Peter 1:3; Is. 65:17)
Tuesday 19 May 2020
Joy in the Journey (19) - Do you love me?
Do you love me? (John 21:15-22)
"Do you love me?" That's quite a question to be asked. Sometimes the answer can be a casual but sincere 'Of course I do' and all is well. But in John 21:15ff things are far from casual. And they have been anything but well.
Peter was acutely conscious of his sin in denying the Lord Jesus and wept bitter tears of repentance. Now, after the glorious joy of the resurrection, the disciples are in an in-between moment, during the time that our Lord gave them many convincing proofs of being alive and readying them for his departure to the Father. Part of that preparation in Peter's case was being recovered from his terrible fall.
It feels almost callous on Jesus' part to ask Peter if he loves him - weren't the tears enough? And not once, nor twice, but three times the question is asked: "Do you love me?" Persistent, insistent. And Peter is grieved at the repetition. Why is his Lord rubbing salt in his wounds? Wasn't the first affirmation of love enough?
Our Lord Jesus is never callous. He wasn't making Peter squirm as payback for his denials in the courtyard of the High Priest. This is the loving work of the true physician of souls. Peter's shame has gone to the deepest part of his being. True recovery from such a fall can never be shallow or swift. And so Jesus goes as deep as the self-inflicted wounds; for every wretched denial he offers the opportunity to replace it with an expression of humble, honest love. Rolling the shame back upon itself; rolling the disgrace away.
Jesus doesn't ask him if he's sorry. He doesn't make him promise he'll never do it again. What he wants to hear - and what Peter needs to speak - is the affirmation of love, "Yes, Lord". And it's a love that is more than a pallid, callow claim: "You know that I love you." The heart that was broken by sin was visible to his Lord and Saviour. Nothing was or could be hidden from him. Nothing needed to be.
Whatever your own history with the Lord Jesus, the same hands that skilfully healed Peter's soul are at work in your life. He speaks in order to uncover and then to banish our shame, to renew our hearts, to grant us the holy privilege of affirming our own love for him.
And those he heals, he honours with the dignity of service: for Peter, "Feed my lambs"; for every disciple, "Follow me". The details of other disciples' service is not to be our concern (v.22); we must follow him, in service that is the expression of our own unfeigned love.
"Do you love me?" That's quite a question to be asked. Sometimes the answer can be a casual but sincere 'Of course I do' and all is well. But in John 21:15ff things are far from casual. And they have been anything but well.
Peter was acutely conscious of his sin in denying the Lord Jesus and wept bitter tears of repentance. Now, after the glorious joy of the resurrection, the disciples are in an in-between moment, during the time that our Lord gave them many convincing proofs of being alive and readying them for his departure to the Father. Part of that preparation in Peter's case was being recovered from his terrible fall.
It feels almost callous on Jesus' part to ask Peter if he loves him - weren't the tears enough? And not once, nor twice, but three times the question is asked: "Do you love me?" Persistent, insistent. And Peter is grieved at the repetition. Why is his Lord rubbing salt in his wounds? Wasn't the first affirmation of love enough?
Our Lord Jesus is never callous. He wasn't making Peter squirm as payback for his denials in the courtyard of the High Priest. This is the loving work of the true physician of souls. Peter's shame has gone to the deepest part of his being. True recovery from such a fall can never be shallow or swift. And so Jesus goes as deep as the self-inflicted wounds; for every wretched denial he offers the opportunity to replace it with an expression of humble, honest love. Rolling the shame back upon itself; rolling the disgrace away.
Jesus doesn't ask him if he's sorry. He doesn't make him promise he'll never do it again. What he wants to hear - and what Peter needs to speak - is the affirmation of love, "Yes, Lord". And it's a love that is more than a pallid, callow claim: "You know that I love you." The heart that was broken by sin was visible to his Lord and Saviour. Nothing was or could be hidden from him. Nothing needed to be.
Whatever your own history with the Lord Jesus, the same hands that skilfully healed Peter's soul are at work in your life. He speaks in order to uncover and then to banish our shame, to renew our hearts, to grant us the holy privilege of affirming our own love for him.
And those he heals, he honours with the dignity of service: for Peter, "Feed my lambs"; for every disciple, "Follow me". The details of other disciples' service is not to be our concern (v.22); we must follow him, in service that is the expression of our own unfeigned love.
************
O Love, that wilt not let me go,
I rest my weary soul in Thee;
I give Thee back the life I owe,
That in Thine ocean depths its flow
May richer, fuller be.
O Light, that followest all my way,
I yield my flickering torch to Thee;
My heart restores its borrowed ray,
That in Thy sunshine's blaze its day
May brighter, fairer be.
O Joy, that seekest me through pain,
I cannot close my heart to Thee;
I trace the rainbow through the rain,
And feel the promise is not vain
That morn shall tearless be.
O Cross, that liftest up my head,
I dare not ask to fly from thee;
I lay in dust life's glory dead,
And from the ground there blossoms red,
Life that shall endless be.
(George Matheson, 1842-1906)
Friday 15 May 2020
Joy in the Journey (18) - Power to grasp the love of Christ
You couldn't accuse the apostle Paul of being conservative in his praying, of being limited in what he asked and hoped for. Ephesians 3:14-21 is beyond our ability to adequately describe and delineate; it stands as one of the most exalted prayers in scripture and one for us to embrace with the deepest reverence. Taken line by line and phrase by phrase, it drenches the soul in wonder.
Twice Paul speaks of power, albeit using different terms. The power of God's Spirit at work within his people and his church. The second of those has to do with our experience of the love of Christ.
But that might sound like an error on Paul's part. Being rooted and established in love, isn't it something else we need to experience the furthest reaches of this love? Intelligence, perhaps, to understand dense doctrine? Some exotic and esoteric experience for the lucky few? Or maybe artistic ability, to be able to somehow portray and depict the sublime? Or perhaps we just need a bit more common sense, since God's love isn't just for sophisticates?
Yet his prayer is not for any of those. Having prayed that we might know power by the Spirit, "that Christ might dwell in your hearts by faith" (v.17), he prays here for adequate strength to be able to grasp the untold dimensions of the love of Christ. Power, in and through the Spirit of God, to grasp the full reality of love.
So, why power?
Sometimes the facts of our lives seem to deny the reality of that love, seem to contradict it. Life can be harsh and brutalising. Paul allies power with faith in these verses and there are many times our faith needs to be encouraged to believe that the love of Christ is real and remains so for us, in all that has or will happen to us. And not just to believe but to experience it in all its sweetness.
The power of cleansing love is needed to overcome the self-loathing and shame that still haunt our hearts. We need divine enabling to take hold of a reality that is simply beyond our wildest dreams: we are loved by God; I am loved by God. Not repulsive to him but loved by him. Is that something you struggle to accept? The Spirit's work in your heart is the solvent for such struggles.
And, as those who are created and finite, it cannot but be true that we need power from above to know the dimensions of a love that is uncreated and infinite - to grasp something of how wide and long and high and deep this love is, to know what simply cannot be known, and so to be filled with all the fulness of God.
We're here at the edge of our ability to comprehend and to articulate. And maybe that's part of Paul's point: it's not a matter of words; the need is for God to work in our hearts in power, that we might be grasped by the love that saves and transforms. And to be so captivated by this love that our hearts will be filled with God himself.
Would you make this prayer yours?
Twice Paul speaks of power, albeit using different terms. The power of God's Spirit at work within his people and his church. The second of those has to do with our experience of the love of Christ.
But that might sound like an error on Paul's part. Being rooted and established in love, isn't it something else we need to experience the furthest reaches of this love? Intelligence, perhaps, to understand dense doctrine? Some exotic and esoteric experience for the lucky few? Or maybe artistic ability, to be able to somehow portray and depict the sublime? Or perhaps we just need a bit more common sense, since God's love isn't just for sophisticates?
Yet his prayer is not for any of those. Having prayed that we might know power by the Spirit, "that Christ might dwell in your hearts by faith" (v.17), he prays here for adequate strength to be able to grasp the untold dimensions of the love of Christ. Power, in and through the Spirit of God, to grasp the full reality of love.
So, why power?
Sometimes the facts of our lives seem to deny the reality of that love, seem to contradict it. Life can be harsh and brutalising. Paul allies power with faith in these verses and there are many times our faith needs to be encouraged to believe that the love of Christ is real and remains so for us, in all that has or will happen to us. And not just to believe but to experience it in all its sweetness.
The power of cleansing love is needed to overcome the self-loathing and shame that still haunt our hearts. We need divine enabling to take hold of a reality that is simply beyond our wildest dreams: we are loved by God; I am loved by God. Not repulsive to him but loved by him. Is that something you struggle to accept? The Spirit's work in your heart is the solvent for such struggles.
And, as those who are created and finite, it cannot but be true that we need power from above to know the dimensions of a love that is uncreated and infinite - to grasp something of how wide and long and high and deep this love is, to know what simply cannot be known, and so to be filled with all the fulness of God.
We're here at the edge of our ability to comprehend and to articulate. And maybe that's part of Paul's point: it's not a matter of words; the need is for God to work in our hearts in power, that we might be grasped by the love that saves and transforms. And to be so captivated by this love that our hearts will be filled with God himself.
Would you make this prayer yours?
************
O love of God, how strong and true;
Eternal, and yet ever new,
Uncomprehended and unbought,
Beyond all knowledge and all thought!
O love of God, how deep and great,
Far deeper than man's deepest hate;
Self-fed, self-kindled, like the light,
Changeless, eternal, infinite!
Eternal, and yet ever new,
Uncomprehended and unbought,
Beyond all knowledge and all thought!
O love of God, how deep and great,
Far deeper than man's deepest hate;
Self-fed, self-kindled, like the light,
Changeless, eternal, infinite!
O heavenly love, how precious still,
In days of weariness and ill,
In nights of pain and helplessness,
To heal, to comfort, and to bless!
O wide-embracing, wondrous love,
We read thee in the sky above;
We read thee in the earth below,
In seas that swell and streams that flow.
In days of weariness and ill,
In nights of pain and helplessness,
To heal, to comfort, and to bless!
O wide-embracing, wondrous love,
We read thee in the sky above;
We read thee in the earth below,
In seas that swell and streams that flow.
We read thee best in him who came
To bear for us the cross of shame,
Sent by the Father from on high,
Our life to live, our death to die.
We read thy power to bless and save,
E'en in the darkness of the grave;
Still more in resurrection light
We read the fullness of thy might.
To bear for us the cross of shame,
Sent by the Father from on high,
Our life to live, our death to die.
We read thy power to bless and save,
E'en in the darkness of the grave;
Still more in resurrection light
We read the fullness of thy might.
O love of God, our shield and stay
Through all the perils of our way;
Eternal love, in thee we rest,
For ever safe, for ever blest.
Through all the perils of our way;
Eternal love, in thee we rest,
For ever safe, for ever blest.
Horatius Bonar, 1808-89
Tuesday 12 May 2020
Joy in the Journey (17) - Delighting in the Servant of the LORD
Delighting in the Servant of the LORD (Isaiah 42:1-4)
In the first of Isaiah's servant songs, the LORD speaks of his Servant, with unalloyed delight. He is the one who will be filled with the Spirit to the brim. And he will bring justice to the nations, establishing it on earth: the saving, restoring, beautifying justice of God. Justice that flows from the cross, from the death of Jesus as Messiah. Justice that reconciles guilty sinners to God and to each other, across all divides (Eph 2:12ff).
These verses describe the nature of his work and his approach to it. Notice that,
"He will not shout or cry out, or raise his voice in the streets" : He will not restore harmony and goodness to his creation by a disruptive social media presence, by abrasive argumentation or the most cohesive and compelling ad campaign. Those are not the means to this kind of justice. And it won't be achieved through revolution; he wasn't leading a rebellion and therefore in need of weapons (Lk. 22:52).
This is about the work of God in the human heart. The marred image is to be reclaimed and restored. It is redeeming work in the most fractured of places, and so the Servant's task requires that:
"A bruised reed he will not break, and a smouldering wick he will not snuff out" : His work of healing and restoration will be carried out with tender care and precise sensitivity. Our complete enthrallment to sin and its shame makes us desperately vulnerable, but he will not exploit it. His grace enables us to remove the masks we use to conceal or protect, that we might come to him for complete recovery. Our hearts and minds are beyond bruised and so he will work on them with a love that deeply soothes and with long-suffering determination to fully heal.
Such an undertaking with flawed and foolish patients will be as extended as it is extensive. Our propensity to harm ourselves and others in continued sin needs ongoing eradication. There will be times when we tax him to the limit. But his heart is such that:
"He will not falter or be discouraged" : How often must he be grieved and troubled in his work. There is so much in us and in his world to cause him to grow despondent. But he will not be overcome; he will not become so weary in well-doing that he resigns his vocation. The resolve of his heart is fixed and firm; his determination to restore and renew is unbroken and driven by holy love.
The means by which he pursues his calling as the Servant of the LORD has much to say to the whole life of the church, as the reference to his law/instruction in verse 4 makes clear. The people of the Messiah are to act and live and serve his mission in continuity with their Saviour's character and work.
And as he continues his work among us and within us, we look to delight ourselves in him, to worship and honour him, putting all our hope in him, even as the Father himself delights in his Chosen One.
************
These verses describe the nature of his work and his approach to it. Notice that,
"He will not shout or cry out, or raise his voice in the streets" : He will not restore harmony and goodness to his creation by a disruptive social media presence, by abrasive argumentation or the most cohesive and compelling ad campaign. Those are not the means to this kind of justice. And it won't be achieved through revolution; he wasn't leading a rebellion and therefore in need of weapons (Lk. 22:52).
This is about the work of God in the human heart. The marred image is to be reclaimed and restored. It is redeeming work in the most fractured of places, and so the Servant's task requires that:
"A bruised reed he will not break, and a smouldering wick he will not snuff out" : His work of healing and restoration will be carried out with tender care and precise sensitivity. Our complete enthrallment to sin and its shame makes us desperately vulnerable, but he will not exploit it. His grace enables us to remove the masks we use to conceal or protect, that we might come to him for complete recovery. Our hearts and minds are beyond bruised and so he will work on them with a love that deeply soothes and with long-suffering determination to fully heal.
Such an undertaking with flawed and foolish patients will be as extended as it is extensive. Our propensity to harm ourselves and others in continued sin needs ongoing eradication. There will be times when we tax him to the limit. But his heart is such that:
"He will not falter or be discouraged" : How often must he be grieved and troubled in his work. There is so much in us and in his world to cause him to grow despondent. But he will not be overcome; he will not become so weary in well-doing that he resigns his vocation. The resolve of his heart is fixed and firm; his determination to restore and renew is unbroken and driven by holy love.
The means by which he pursues his calling as the Servant of the LORD has much to say to the whole life of the church, as the reference to his law/instruction in verse 4 makes clear. The people of the Messiah are to act and live and serve his mission in continuity with their Saviour's character and work.
And as he continues his work among us and within us, we look to delight ourselves in him, to worship and honour him, putting all our hope in him, even as the Father himself delights in his Chosen One.
************
Immortal honours rest on Jesus’ head,
My God, my portion, and my living Bread;
In Him I live, upon Him cast my care;
He saves from death, destruction, and despair.
He is my refuge in each deep distress,
The Lord my strength and glorious righteousness.
Through floods and flames He leads me safely on,
And daily makes His sovereign goodness known.
My every need He richly will supply,
Nor will His mercy ever let me die;
In Him there dwells a treasure all divine,
And matchless grace has made that treasure mine.
O that my soul could love and praise Him more,
His beauties trace, His majesty adore,
Live near His heart, upon His bosom lean,
Obey His voice, and all His will esteem.
William Gadsby, 1773-1844
Friday 8 May 2020
Joy in the Journey (16) - Such Great Faith
Such Great Faith (Matthew 8:5-13)
If ever there was a time that called for great faith, it feels like this is it. Our whole society is in the greatest need. Many are in the deepest sorrow. Large numbers are facing uncertainty in their employment; some have already lost their jobs. And those deemed to be most vulnerable are facing an anxious future.
In these next weeks, restrictions will begin to be eased, but what will that mean? What will the future hold for us? What will it take to recover from the past months? Do we have the strength to face and overcome the struggles that will inevitably come?
We need faith - and probably feel that we need far greater faith than we currently have. It would be good to know what that kind of faith looks like.
Is it essentially to do with the depth and strength of our feelings, akin to a supernatural optimism? A sense of bravery, of derring-do, in the spiritual realm? Is it an unwavering commitment that is married to moral clarity and attainment?
The phrase, "Such great faith" is used by Jesus in describing the Roman centurion who asked him to heal his servant who lies at home, "paralysed, suffering terribly". What was it about this man that merited such an accolade?
Nothing of what we have suggested. That isn't what we see in him. There are two essential ingredients to his faith, his "such great faith":
i. His own sense of unworthiness. Others petition Jesus on his behalf and proclaim his valued character, his sympathy for the Jewish nation and, hence, his meriting of help (Luke 7:4f). His own take on it is this: "I don't deserve to have you come under my roof."
Often we imagine this sense of unworthiness as akin to grovelling in the dirt, proclaiming our worminess, mentally scraping the sores of our sinfulness, as though the more we declaimed ourselves the more likely Jesus would be to help us. It isn't. Owning our unworthiness is not a betrayal of our God-given dignity. But it is facing our lack, our culpability; knowing the truth that even our best acts and thoughts are affected by our sinfulness.
Great faith faces that truth and owns it before Jesus. It doesn't try to barter with him, cut a deal on some promise of a reformed life or deeper pockets. It is an empty hand, placed deliberately and with humble joy, into his nail-pierced hand.
ii. The limitless authority of Jesus. Great faith looks not to itself but to Another. To the Son of God from all eternity. To the Son of Man who came to seek and save the lost. To the One who holds the keys of death and hades. To the one who disarmed powers and authorites, triumphing over them by his cross. To the One who is seated far above all rule and authority, power and dominion, and every name that can be given, who is head over everything for the sake of his people.
This is real authority, authority to heal and restore, the authority of loving mercy and renewing grace. Authority that delights to receive the lowly and answer their prayers. Authority that draws and invites faith, that causes hope to rise because its power lavishes goodness on the undeserving.
Such great faith: I don't deserve to have you come under my roof. But all authority is yours; just say the word.
And this great faith is not the preserve of the few who have the right credentials, who have history or status on their side. This man had no religious heritage to commend him; his cultural background was a pagan empire. He was familiar with violence and death. The most unlikely candidate? Which of us isn't? But the door's not closed; it's wide open to all who come as he came.
************
Above the voices of the world around me,
my hopes and dreams, my cares and loves and fears,
the long-awaited call of Christ has found me,
the voice of Jesus echoes in my ears:
'I gave my life to break the cords that bind you,
I rose from death to set your spirit free;
turn from your sins and put the past behind you,
take up your cross and come and follow me.'
What can I offer him who calls me to him?
Only the wastes of sin and self and shame;
a mind confused, a heart that never knew him,
a tongue unskilled at naming Jesus' Name.
Yet at your call, and hungry for your blessing,
drawn by that cross which moves a heart of stone,
now Lord I come, my tale of sin confessing,
and in repentance turn to you alone.
Lord, I believe; help now my unbelieving;
I come in faith because your promise stands.
Your word of pardon and of peace receiving,
all that I am I place within your hands.
Let me become what you shall choose to make me,
freed from the guilt and burden of my sins.
Jesus is mine, who never shall forsake me,
and in his love my new-born life begins.
(Timothy Dudley-Smith)
If ever there was a time that called for great faith, it feels like this is it. Our whole society is in the greatest need. Many are in the deepest sorrow. Large numbers are facing uncertainty in their employment; some have already lost their jobs. And those deemed to be most vulnerable are facing an anxious future.
In these next weeks, restrictions will begin to be eased, but what will that mean? What will the future hold for us? What will it take to recover from the past months? Do we have the strength to face and overcome the struggles that will inevitably come?
We need faith - and probably feel that we need far greater faith than we currently have. It would be good to know what that kind of faith looks like.
Is it essentially to do with the depth and strength of our feelings, akin to a supernatural optimism? A sense of bravery, of derring-do, in the spiritual realm? Is it an unwavering commitment that is married to moral clarity and attainment?
The phrase, "Such great faith" is used by Jesus in describing the Roman centurion who asked him to heal his servant who lies at home, "paralysed, suffering terribly". What was it about this man that merited such an accolade?
Nothing of what we have suggested. That isn't what we see in him. There are two essential ingredients to his faith, his "such great faith":
i. His own sense of unworthiness. Others petition Jesus on his behalf and proclaim his valued character, his sympathy for the Jewish nation and, hence, his meriting of help (Luke 7:4f). His own take on it is this: "I don't deserve to have you come under my roof."
Often we imagine this sense of unworthiness as akin to grovelling in the dirt, proclaiming our worminess, mentally scraping the sores of our sinfulness, as though the more we declaimed ourselves the more likely Jesus would be to help us. It isn't. Owning our unworthiness is not a betrayal of our God-given dignity. But it is facing our lack, our culpability; knowing the truth that even our best acts and thoughts are affected by our sinfulness.
Great faith faces that truth and owns it before Jesus. It doesn't try to barter with him, cut a deal on some promise of a reformed life or deeper pockets. It is an empty hand, placed deliberately and with humble joy, into his nail-pierced hand.
ii. The limitless authority of Jesus. Great faith looks not to itself but to Another. To the Son of God from all eternity. To the Son of Man who came to seek and save the lost. To the One who holds the keys of death and hades. To the one who disarmed powers and authorites, triumphing over them by his cross. To the One who is seated far above all rule and authority, power and dominion, and every name that can be given, who is head over everything for the sake of his people.
This is real authority, authority to heal and restore, the authority of loving mercy and renewing grace. Authority that delights to receive the lowly and answer their prayers. Authority that draws and invites faith, that causes hope to rise because its power lavishes goodness on the undeserving.
Such great faith: I don't deserve to have you come under my roof. But all authority is yours; just say the word.
And this great faith is not the preserve of the few who have the right credentials, who have history or status on their side. This man had no religious heritage to commend him; his cultural background was a pagan empire. He was familiar with violence and death. The most unlikely candidate? Which of us isn't? But the door's not closed; it's wide open to all who come as he came.
************
Above the voices of the world around me,
my hopes and dreams, my cares and loves and fears,
the long-awaited call of Christ has found me,
the voice of Jesus echoes in my ears:
'I gave my life to break the cords that bind you,
I rose from death to set your spirit free;
turn from your sins and put the past behind you,
take up your cross and come and follow me.'
What can I offer him who calls me to him?
Only the wastes of sin and self and shame;
a mind confused, a heart that never knew him,
a tongue unskilled at naming Jesus' Name.
Yet at your call, and hungry for your blessing,
drawn by that cross which moves a heart of stone,
now Lord I come, my tale of sin confessing,
and in repentance turn to you alone.
Lord, I believe; help now my unbelieving;
I come in faith because your promise stands.
Your word of pardon and of peace receiving,
all that I am I place within your hands.
Let me become what you shall choose to make me,
freed from the guilt and burden of my sins.
Jesus is mine, who never shall forsake me,
and in his love my new-born life begins.
(Timothy Dudley-Smith)
Tuesday 5 May 2020
Jonathan Edwards on Christ the Spiritual Sun
The beams of this spiritual Sun don’t only refresh but restore the souls of believers. Thus it is said that the Sun of righteousness [shall arise] with healing [in his wings]. These beams heal the souls of believers. As we often see that when the trees or plants of the earth are wounded, the beams of the sun will heal the wound and by degrees restore the plant, so the sweet beams of the Sun of righteousness heal the wounds of believers’ souls. When they have been wounded by sin and have laboured under the pain of wounds of conscience, the rays of this Sun heal the wounds of conscience. When they have been wounded by temptation and made to fall to their hurt, those benign beams, when they come to shine on the wounded soul, restore and heal the hurt that has been received.
(Sermon on Christ the Spiritual Sun)
Joy in the Journey (15) - In Your Light, We See Light
It's getting lighter earlier in the morning and lingering longer in the evening. Spring is so very welcome. Yet the days are, in another sense, darker. Shrouded in anxiety and incomprehension, the future uncertain and unyielding; we can say very little that has a settled certainty.
Psalm 36 was written in desperately dark times. The author is in a society where "there is no fear of God before their eyes". Everything was bleak; there were no signs of hope. Nothing could pierce the unrelenting gloom.
And then the sun rises: "Your love, LORD, reaches to the heavens, your faithfulness to the skies." All is not lost; life has a security, an anchor for hope. The righteousness and justice of God have not failed. There is refuge in the shadow of his wings, a feasting on his abundance, a drinking in of his delights.
And visibility and clarity are unexpectedly experienced, the darkness dispelled: "In your light we see light".
The light of God's character and ways provide illumination for his people. He is the source of all light, of all truth and goodness. In the book of Revelation, John sees that the new Jerusalem has no need of the light of sun or moon because "the glory of God gives it light and the Lamb is its lamp". Pure, uncreated and unmediated light. Light that banishes darkness, overcoming it through the cross. Light that is not susceptible to any dimming. Light that is clearer than the purest air. Light that sings as it shines.
The psalmist doesn't simply say that we see other things by the light of God. He says, "in your light we see light". We see truth and goodness, we experience the reality that "with you is the fountain of life". We come to know and understand what light really is. That God is light and in him is no darkness at all. That light is of his very essence.
Psalm 119:130 will later add that "the unfolding of your words gives light". Like a flower blossoming and releasing its intoxicating sweetness, the Lord's words have captivating and rejuvenating power, giving direction and hope even in the darkest of days, illuminating our inmost being with the true light of God, even making us to be "light in the Lord" (Eph 5:8). Which means we do well, as Peter says, "to pay attention to it, as to a light shining in a dark place, until the day dawns and the morning sun rises in our hearts" (2 Peter 1:19).
That day will dawn. That sun shall rise. Hallelujah!
************
Eternal Light! Eternal Light!
How pure the soul must be,
When, placed within Thy searching sight,
It shrinks not, but with calm delight
Can live and look on Thee.
The spirits that surround Thy throne
May bear the burning bliss;
But that is surely theirs alone,
Since they have never, never known
A fallen world like this.
O how shall I, whose native sphere
Is dark, whose mind is dim,
Before the Ineffable appear,
And on my naked spirit bear
The uncreated beam?
There is a way for man to rise
To that sublime abode:
An offering and a sacrifice,
A Holy Spirit’s energies,
An Advocate with God.
These, these prepare us for the sight
Of holiness above;
The sons of ignorance and night
Can dwell in the eternal Light,
Through the eternal Love.
(Thomas Binney, 1798-1874)
Psalm 36 was written in desperately dark times. The author is in a society where "there is no fear of God before their eyes". Everything was bleak; there were no signs of hope. Nothing could pierce the unrelenting gloom.
And then the sun rises: "Your love, LORD, reaches to the heavens, your faithfulness to the skies." All is not lost; life has a security, an anchor for hope. The righteousness and justice of God have not failed. There is refuge in the shadow of his wings, a feasting on his abundance, a drinking in of his delights.
And visibility and clarity are unexpectedly experienced, the darkness dispelled: "In your light we see light".
The light of God's character and ways provide illumination for his people. He is the source of all light, of all truth and goodness. In the book of Revelation, John sees that the new Jerusalem has no need of the light of sun or moon because "the glory of God gives it light and the Lamb is its lamp". Pure, uncreated and unmediated light. Light that banishes darkness, overcoming it through the cross. Light that is not susceptible to any dimming. Light that is clearer than the purest air. Light that sings as it shines.
The psalmist doesn't simply say that we see other things by the light of God. He says, "in your light we see light". We see truth and goodness, we experience the reality that "with you is the fountain of life". We come to know and understand what light really is. That God is light and in him is no darkness at all. That light is of his very essence.
Psalm 119:130 will later add that "the unfolding of your words gives light". Like a flower blossoming and releasing its intoxicating sweetness, the Lord's words have captivating and rejuvenating power, giving direction and hope even in the darkest of days, illuminating our inmost being with the true light of God, even making us to be "light in the Lord" (Eph 5:8). Which means we do well, as Peter says, "to pay attention to it, as to a light shining in a dark place, until the day dawns and the morning sun rises in our hearts" (2 Peter 1:19).
That day will dawn. That sun shall rise. Hallelujah!
************
Eternal Light! Eternal Light!
How pure the soul must be,
When, placed within Thy searching sight,
It shrinks not, but with calm delight
Can live and look on Thee.
The spirits that surround Thy throne
May bear the burning bliss;
But that is surely theirs alone,
Since they have never, never known
A fallen world like this.
O how shall I, whose native sphere
Is dark, whose mind is dim,
Before the Ineffable appear,
And on my naked spirit bear
The uncreated beam?
There is a way for man to rise
To that sublime abode:
An offering and a sacrifice,
A Holy Spirit’s energies,
An Advocate with God.
These, these prepare us for the sight
Of holiness above;
The sons of ignorance and night
Can dwell in the eternal Light,
Through the eternal Love.
(Thomas Binney, 1798-1874)
Saturday 2 May 2020
Joy in the Journey (14) - Everything We Need
"Everything we need" 2 Peter 1:3
What do you need to get you through these days? They seem to hold unique demands and challenges, unknown by us before, certainly not in their detail. Yet we recognise the broader contours: faith in adversity; hope in God; self-denial and loving service.
Peter has good news for his readers: they have been given all they need for life and godliness. Not life as 'your best life now', nor godliness as life behind a shuttered door, isolated and insulated from the sufferings of this present age. But life as taking up our cross and following Jesus and godliness as likeness to one who came to seek and to save the lost, open and vulnerable, deeply compassionate and redemptive in all his words and ways.
All we need for such a life is ours, says Peter, by "his divine power...through our knowledge of the one who called us by his glory and goodness". Each part of that statement is worth pondering, each word yields further wonders:
But, notice, the divine power that equips us for life and godliness comes "through our knowledge of him". And because this isn't a once-for-all knowing, Peter closes the letter with a plea, an exhortation, to "grow in the grace and knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ." His own departure is at hand and he is desperate for them to press onwards - futher up and further in - by knowing Jesus and experiencing his grace.
Which means action on our part; it cannot but do. This isn't knowing by spiritual osmosis or passivity. The kind of action is memorably laid out in Ps. 119:99f "I have insight, for I meditate on your statutes; I have understanding, for I obey your precepts." Insight and understanding through meditation and obedience.
Growing in grace and knowing Jesus isn't the work of seconds or minutes; it can't be Tweeted or Insta'd. It comes from real, settled, open-faced prayer and reflection, worked-out in daily attention to the opportunities to honour and serve the Lord, walking in his ways. And leaning hard into all his "very great and precious promises" (v.4). Promises of mercy, of sustaining grace, of his presence and tender care, of ultimate security and the renewal of all things. Great and precious.
The days are demanding, we all recognise that. But we are not abandoned; we are not cut loose, doomed to drift on a sea of desolation. We have been given all we need, for all that the Lord calls us to, through knowing him and growing in knowing him, embracing all he has so freely promised.
***********
Lord Jesus Christ, we seek Thy face;
Within the veil we bow the knee;
O let Thy glory fill the place,
And bless us while we wait on Thee.
We thank Thee for the precious blood
That purged our sins and brought us nigh,
All cleansed and sanctified to God,
Thy holy Name to magnify.
Shut in with Thee, far, far above
The restless world that wars below,
We seek to learn and prove Thy love,
Thy wisdom and Thy grace to know.
The brow that once with thorns was bound,
Thy hands, Thy side, we fain would see;
Draw near, Lord Jesus, glory-crowned,
And bless us while we wait on Thee.
Alexander Stewart, 1843-1923
What do you need to get you through these days? They seem to hold unique demands and challenges, unknown by us before, certainly not in their detail. Yet we recognise the broader contours: faith in adversity; hope in God; self-denial and loving service.
Peter has good news for his readers: they have been given all they need for life and godliness. Not life as 'your best life now', nor godliness as life behind a shuttered door, isolated and insulated from the sufferings of this present age. But life as taking up our cross and following Jesus and godliness as likeness to one who came to seek and to save the lost, open and vulnerable, deeply compassionate and redemptive in all his words and ways.
All we need for such a life is ours, says Peter, by "his divine power...through our knowledge of the one who called us by his glory and goodness". Each part of that statement is worth pondering, each word yields further wonders:
- Divine power: God's own power, that ennobles life and empowers to endure suffering (as Paul tells Timothy in 2 Tim 1:8b), power to share in his divine life.
- Called by his glory and goodness: the radiant Jesus calls us in grace, unveils his merciful face, reveals what true goodness and virtue is, and captivates our hearts with the sight. Calls, draws; irresistibly.
But, notice, the divine power that equips us for life and godliness comes "through our knowledge of him". And because this isn't a once-for-all knowing, Peter closes the letter with a plea, an exhortation, to "grow in the grace and knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ." His own departure is at hand and he is desperate for them to press onwards - futher up and further in - by knowing Jesus and experiencing his grace.
Which means action on our part; it cannot but do. This isn't knowing by spiritual osmosis or passivity. The kind of action is memorably laid out in Ps. 119:99f "I have insight, for I meditate on your statutes; I have understanding, for I obey your precepts." Insight and understanding through meditation and obedience.
Growing in grace and knowing Jesus isn't the work of seconds or minutes; it can't be Tweeted or Insta'd. It comes from real, settled, open-faced prayer and reflection, worked-out in daily attention to the opportunities to honour and serve the Lord, walking in his ways. And leaning hard into all his "very great and precious promises" (v.4). Promises of mercy, of sustaining grace, of his presence and tender care, of ultimate security and the renewal of all things. Great and precious.
The days are demanding, we all recognise that. But we are not abandoned; we are not cut loose, doomed to drift on a sea of desolation. We have been given all we need, for all that the Lord calls us to, through knowing him and growing in knowing him, embracing all he has so freely promised.
***********
Lord Jesus Christ, we seek Thy face;
Within the veil we bow the knee;
O let Thy glory fill the place,
And bless us while we wait on Thee.
We thank Thee for the precious blood
That purged our sins and brought us nigh,
All cleansed and sanctified to God,
Thy holy Name to magnify.
Shut in with Thee, far, far above
The restless world that wars below,
We seek to learn and prove Thy love,
Thy wisdom and Thy grace to know.
The brow that once with thorns was bound,
Thy hands, Thy side, we fain would see;
Draw near, Lord Jesus, glory-crowned,
And bless us while we wait on Thee.
Alexander Stewart, 1843-1923
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