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)
Friday, 22 May 2020
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
Tuesday, 28 April 2020
Joy in the Journey (13) - Precious Faith
None of us knows what will happen next. All we can say is that it looks like life won't be the same again, whatever that might mean. And not knowing, not being able to predict with any certainty, can so easily shake and unsettle us.
When Peter wrote his second letter, his readers were facing the prospect of a 'new normal'. The age of the apostles was passing and would soon be gone (Peter talks about his own impending death in 1:14). The fixed points of security for their life and experiences as Christians were becoming loosened and their moorings slipped. Those who had known Jesus personally would soon be no more. How would they cope? What would the future hold? How do you even begin to imagine, let alone live from, a new normal?
Peter was writing to prepare them for that and sets his course from the very start when he says [you] "have received a faith as precious as ours." (1:1)
As an apostle, that is quite a statement for him to make. Everything, it seemed, was on Peter and the other apostles' side and was absent from those he was writing to. They could easily feel they had been given a second class ticket and sold just a little short on their journey.
But Peter is quite clear: their faith is as precious as that of the apostles. How so?
Because faith isn't fundamentally about our social location. In his first letter he details where they lived - Pontus, Galatia, Cappadocia, Asia and Bithynia; a very wide variety of places and peoples. But faith isn't circumscribed by circumstances.
Nor does faith hinge on our place in history and our access to the physical reality of the life and ministry of Jesus. Peter had indeed seen Jesus, heard him teach, watched him die and seen him alive, resurrected. He had witnessed the transfiguration, which he mentions in 1:16-18, an experience that only 3 of the apostles shared in. But none of that elevates his faith beyond theirs. As Jesus told Thomas, "Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed."
And faith isn't a matter of our personality, nor our psychology. Those may influence how we experience it but they do not determine its worth or value. They are not what allows us to call faith 'precious'.
So what does? It's all down to its object, its focus: "our God and Saviour Jesus Christ" and the means by which that faith is given and received: "through [his] righteousness". It is Jesus and his precious person, his wonderful and unimpeachable faithfulness and integrity, and all in our place as Saviour - that is what makes faith so very precious. His consummate heart and his completed work.
And that is not in the slightest changed by the new normal we will enter. Because he is not changed, over all the years, through all the variations of our feelings and fortunes and failings. He gifts faith; he is its supreme object and delight. He walks with us as his people into all our tomorrows, carrying us in all our sorrows and sustaining his own life within us.
Through a faith that is immutably precious.
************
Jesus, the very thought of Thee
With sweetness fills my breast;
But sweeter far Thy face to see,
And in Thy presence rest.
Nor voice can sing, nor heart can frame,
Nor can the memory find
A sweeter sound than Thy blest Name,
O Saviour of mankind!
O hope of every contrite heart,
O joy of all the meek,
To those who fall how kind Thou art!
How good to those who seek!
But what to those who find? Ah! this
Nor tongue nor pen can show:
The love of Jesus, what it is
None but His loved ones know.
Jesus, our only joy be Thou,
As Thou our prize wilt be;
Jesus, be Thou our glory now,
And through eternity.
Bernard of Clairvaux, 1091-1153
tr. by Edward Caswall, 1814-78
When Peter wrote his second letter, his readers were facing the prospect of a 'new normal'. The age of the apostles was passing and would soon be gone (Peter talks about his own impending death in 1:14). The fixed points of security for their life and experiences as Christians were becoming loosened and their moorings slipped. Those who had known Jesus personally would soon be no more. How would they cope? What would the future hold? How do you even begin to imagine, let alone live from, a new normal?
Peter was writing to prepare them for that and sets his course from the very start when he says [you] "have received a faith as precious as ours." (1:1)
As an apostle, that is quite a statement for him to make. Everything, it seemed, was on Peter and the other apostles' side and was absent from those he was writing to. They could easily feel they had been given a second class ticket and sold just a little short on their journey.
But Peter is quite clear: their faith is as precious as that of the apostles. How so?
Because faith isn't fundamentally about our social location. In his first letter he details where they lived - Pontus, Galatia, Cappadocia, Asia and Bithynia; a very wide variety of places and peoples. But faith isn't circumscribed by circumstances.
Nor does faith hinge on our place in history and our access to the physical reality of the life and ministry of Jesus. Peter had indeed seen Jesus, heard him teach, watched him die and seen him alive, resurrected. He had witnessed the transfiguration, which he mentions in 1:16-18, an experience that only 3 of the apostles shared in. But none of that elevates his faith beyond theirs. As Jesus told Thomas, "Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed."
And faith isn't a matter of our personality, nor our psychology. Those may influence how we experience it but they do not determine its worth or value. They are not what allows us to call faith 'precious'.
So what does? It's all down to its object, its focus: "our God and Saviour Jesus Christ" and the means by which that faith is given and received: "through [his] righteousness". It is Jesus and his precious person, his wonderful and unimpeachable faithfulness and integrity, and all in our place as Saviour - that is what makes faith so very precious. His consummate heart and his completed work.
And that is not in the slightest changed by the new normal we will enter. Because he is not changed, over all the years, through all the variations of our feelings and fortunes and failings. He gifts faith; he is its supreme object and delight. He walks with us as his people into all our tomorrows, carrying us in all our sorrows and sustaining his own life within us.
Through a faith that is immutably precious.
************
Jesus, the very thought of Thee
With sweetness fills my breast;
But sweeter far Thy face to see,
And in Thy presence rest.
Nor voice can sing, nor heart can frame,
Nor can the memory find
A sweeter sound than Thy blest Name,
O Saviour of mankind!
O hope of every contrite heart,
O joy of all the meek,
To those who fall how kind Thou art!
How good to those who seek!
But what to those who find? Ah! this
Nor tongue nor pen can show:
The love of Jesus, what it is
None but His loved ones know.
Jesus, our only joy be Thou,
As Thou our prize wilt be;
Jesus, be Thou our glory now,
And through eternity.
Bernard of Clairvaux, 1091-1153
tr. by Edward Caswall, 1814-78
Friday, 24 April 2020
The hard work of believing God's heart is merciful and gracious
The Christian life, from one angle, is the long journey of letting our natural assumption about who God is, over many decades, fall away, being slowly replaced with God’s own insistence on who he is. This is hard work. It takes a lot of sermons and a lot of suffering to believe that God’s deepest heart is “merciful and gracious, slow to anger.” The fall in Genesis 3 not only sent us into condemnation and exile. The fall also entrenched in our minds dark thoughts of God, thoughts that are only dug out over multiple exposures to the gospel over many years. Perhaps Satan’s greatest victory in your life today is not the sin in which you regularly indulge but the dark thoughts of God’s heart that cause you to go there in the first place and keep you cool toward him in the wake of it.
Dane Ortlund, Gentle and Lowly, loc. 1922
Joy in the Journey (12) - Why Jesus got up early to pray
"Very early in the morning, while it was still dark, Jesus got up, left the house and went off to a solitary place, where he prayed..."
Mark 1:35-39 is a great lesson in quiet time maintenance: get up early, far away from other people, and pray. Except it isn’t. It’s much deeper and more significant than that. Those are things you or I might find helpful but they’re scarcely determinative. And they're certainly not the point of this passage.
Jesus goes out to a solitary place - a wilderness place. He’s been to that kind of place fairly recently in this chapter, "At once the Spirit sent him out into the wilderness, and he was in the wilderness forty days, being tempted by Satan. He was with the wild animals, and angels attended him."
What was going on back there? The God-determined testing of Jesus. Mark doesn’t give as full an account of it as Matthew and Luke; he simply notes it took place and that wild beasts were present and angels ministered to Jesus there. Fast forward to verses 35-39 and we see Jesus choosing to rise very early and go out to pray in a wilderness place. How do they connect?
The night before, he healed and delivered scores of people - the whole town had gathered at the door. And when the disciples eventually find him on this morning they give him the (hardly surprising) news that everyone is looking for him. They love him - he’s a great guy to have around! No doubt they want him to stay, for a long time. Who wouldn’t?
And Jesus tells his disciples that he’s not going to stay, that he’s instead going on to the other towns and villages, because he has to preach the gospel there too.
The clamour of the townspeople is a powerful temptation, more dangerous than the wild beasts in the wilderness. Everyone likes to be popular; the pull of a crowd is subtle and subversive - and will eat you for breakfast. And so Jesus gets up very early (before breakfast) to pray, so he can resist the temptation to settle for being popular and being needed and to maintain his focus on what really matters most for him: taking the gospel to those who haven't heard it. So he can spend time delighting himself in his Father that his heart might be strengthened in desiring and choosing all that is good and reject the corrupted.
We're people who are vulnerable to temptation, which is why the Lord's Prayer directs us to ask that we not be put to the test but delivered from evil. Every day is an obstacle course of 'the world, the flesh and the devil'. Jesus' example shows our need to pray in the light of that, looking to align ourselves with the will of our Father in heaven and his gospel, in opposition to the tempations we daily face. When the wilderness is replaced by a garden, his prayer remains, "Not my will but yours be done".
We all know the sad truth that we are prone to wander (and we feel it). We're often blind to the real issues at play in our lives and to the concealed heart of the temptations we face. Some of the details may have changed recently but the essence remains. Our Lord Jesus knew he needed to pray to resist temptation, to keep his heart's focus on what mattered most. He needed to pray to see clearly what he was facing and to enter into the struggle and make the choices that would honour his Father and his mission. So do we.
And yet, knowing that all too well, we're very often like the disciples in the garden - having been exhorted to watch and pray that they wouldn't fall into temptation, they instead fall into sleep. But our Saviour recognises his disciples' vulnerability, mercifully acknowledging that "The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak" (it remains so). A Saviour who stays awake and continues to pray, who continues to doggedly pursue his way to the cross that he might give himself to rescue us from all harm, from all temptation and sin.
That's why he got up so early.
**********
O Jesus Christ, grow Thou in me,
And all things else recede;
My heart be daily nearer Thee,
From sin be daily freed.
Each day let Thy supporting might
My weakness still embrace;
My darkness vanish in Thy light,
Thy life my death efface.
In Thy bight beams, which on me fall,
Fade every evil thought;
That I am nothing, Thou art all,
I would be daily taught.
More of Thy glory let me see,
Thou Holy, Wise, and True!
I would Thy living image be,
In joy and sorrow too.
Fill me with gladness from above,
Hold me by strength divine!
Lord, let the glow of Thy great love
Through my whole being shine.
Make this poor self grow less and less,
Be Thou my life and aim;
O make me daily, through Thy grace,
More meet to bear Thy name!
Johann Casper Lavater (1741-1801)
tr. Elizabeth Lee Smith (1817-98)
Mark 1:35-39 is a great lesson in quiet time maintenance: get up early, far away from other people, and pray. Except it isn’t. It’s much deeper and more significant than that. Those are things you or I might find helpful but they’re scarcely determinative. And they're certainly not the point of this passage.
Jesus goes out to a solitary place - a wilderness place. He’s been to that kind of place fairly recently in this chapter, "At once the Spirit sent him out into the wilderness, and he was in the wilderness forty days, being tempted by Satan. He was with the wild animals, and angels attended him."
What was going on back there? The God-determined testing of Jesus. Mark doesn’t give as full an account of it as Matthew and Luke; he simply notes it took place and that wild beasts were present and angels ministered to Jesus there. Fast forward to verses 35-39 and we see Jesus choosing to rise very early and go out to pray in a wilderness place. How do they connect?
The night before, he healed and delivered scores of people - the whole town had gathered at the door. And when the disciples eventually find him on this morning they give him the (hardly surprising) news that everyone is looking for him. They love him - he’s a great guy to have around! No doubt they want him to stay, for a long time. Who wouldn’t?
And Jesus tells his disciples that he’s not going to stay, that he’s instead going on to the other towns and villages, because he has to preach the gospel there too.
The clamour of the townspeople is a powerful temptation, more dangerous than the wild beasts in the wilderness. Everyone likes to be popular; the pull of a crowd is subtle and subversive - and will eat you for breakfast. And so Jesus gets up very early (before breakfast) to pray, so he can resist the temptation to settle for being popular and being needed and to maintain his focus on what really matters most for him: taking the gospel to those who haven't heard it. So he can spend time delighting himself in his Father that his heart might be strengthened in desiring and choosing all that is good and reject the corrupted.
We're people who are vulnerable to temptation, which is why the Lord's Prayer directs us to ask that we not be put to the test but delivered from evil. Every day is an obstacle course of 'the world, the flesh and the devil'. Jesus' example shows our need to pray in the light of that, looking to align ourselves with the will of our Father in heaven and his gospel, in opposition to the tempations we daily face. When the wilderness is replaced by a garden, his prayer remains, "Not my will but yours be done".
We all know the sad truth that we are prone to wander (and we feel it). We're often blind to the real issues at play in our lives and to the concealed heart of the temptations we face. Some of the details may have changed recently but the essence remains. Our Lord Jesus knew he needed to pray to resist temptation, to keep his heart's focus on what mattered most. He needed to pray to see clearly what he was facing and to enter into the struggle and make the choices that would honour his Father and his mission. So do we.
And yet, knowing that all too well, we're very often like the disciples in the garden - having been exhorted to watch and pray that they wouldn't fall into temptation, they instead fall into sleep. But our Saviour recognises his disciples' vulnerability, mercifully acknowledging that "The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak" (it remains so). A Saviour who stays awake and continues to pray, who continues to doggedly pursue his way to the cross that he might give himself to rescue us from all harm, from all temptation and sin.
That's why he got up so early.
**********
O Jesus Christ, grow Thou in me,
And all things else recede;
My heart be daily nearer Thee,
From sin be daily freed.
Each day let Thy supporting might
My weakness still embrace;
My darkness vanish in Thy light,
Thy life my death efface.
In Thy bight beams, which on me fall,
Fade every evil thought;
That I am nothing, Thou art all,
I would be daily taught.
More of Thy glory let me see,
Thou Holy, Wise, and True!
I would Thy living image be,
In joy and sorrow too.
Fill me with gladness from above,
Hold me by strength divine!
Lord, let the glow of Thy great love
Through my whole being shine.
Make this poor self grow less and less,
Be Thou my life and aim;
O make me daily, through Thy grace,
More meet to bear Thy name!
Johann Casper Lavater (1741-1801)
tr. Elizabeth Lee Smith (1817-98)
Tuesday, 21 April 2020
Joy in the Journey (11) - More than you can now bear
"I have much more to say to you, more than you can now bear..." (John 16:12)
We have many questions and, often, so few answers. Some of them are not coherent, coming from an agony so desperate they feel more like accusations than questions. Where is God? What is he doing? Why isn't he doing more and more often? How can he choose to live in this mess?
There is much we need to know and much we want to know, especially at a time like this. On an evening of very many questions, spoken and retained, Jesus says to his disciples, "I have much more to say to you..." There's no intention to exclude them from knowing, from understanding. Rather, he intends to speak, to communicate, from the depths of God's mind to theirs, even with all their limitations.
But the time wasn't right for those disciples: "I have much more to say to you, more than you can now bear..."
I wonder how you'd have reacted to that? How you react in applying these words to yourself?
Perhaps you think Jesus is suggesting fault on the disciples' part - that he had more to say and they really ought to be able to hear it, but there's a lack in them. They're just not mature enough and they really ought to be by now. Because that's how you see your own relationship with the Lord - if something isn't happening now, isn't clear now, it's always because of a deficiency on your part. If there's blame to go around you're the natural home for it; you're a low-cost dumping ground for shame.
Or maybe your elemental response is that any talk of not being able to bear it means he's got bad news for them. News that is so devastating they couldn't take it at that moment. Because isn't that how it is in this world - we're always waiting to be told the calamity we feared most has now happened?
The first response is deeply sad and betrays a terrible insecurity. That really isn't how things are in life with Jesus as Lord. All lack is not down to you. Yes, the disciples could've done better many times but this isn't about their deficiencies. Whenever Jesus says something oblique it isn't to skewer you in your failures.
As for the second response, we need to remember that anything and everything that's bad in this world is only and ever penultimate; it isn't the final reality. We need to hold onto that.
And hold onto it with this in our hands: what they could not at that point bear was the fuller truth about Jesus. That all would be well and all manner of things would be well. They simply were incapable of holding within their hearts and minds the weight of glory that was going to be unveiled in the plan of God for the healing of the cosmos. The radiance of Jesus and the splendour of God's wisdom in all he would accomplish that would lead the apostle Paul to utter a memorable "O the depths!" (Rom 11:33)
Being told they were unable to bear the truth was not Jesus finger-pointing, nor was he alluding to sinister outcomes. Holding back what they couldn't then bear was a mercy, not a withdrawal of privilege. It was a recognition of their current frailty.
But of course that wasn't all Jesus said. He told them they couldn't then bear it but the Spirit of Truth was coming and, when he comes, he would lead them into all truth. He would usher them into that fuller sight of the glory and ways of Jesus, the radiance of the gospel. The light of the knowledge of God's glory displayed in the face of the Messiah (2 Cor 4:6).
And there lies our own encouragement and hope. Not that we, now living after Pentecost and being indwelt by the Spirit and having the whole Bible, have all the answers to every question and have scaled every peak of biblical insight. We simply don't and haven't. But we are invited to grow, to mature, through the work of the Spirit. Asking him to open our eyes to more of the glory of Jesus and to the ways of God that are higher than ours. To be our teacher through these days when we feel like amateurs, newcomers to walking by faith not by sight; growing us to bear more of the weight of the glory of Jesus.
That, increasingly, our experience would be that "we all, who with unveiled faces contemplate the Lord's glory, are being transformed into his image with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord who is the Spirit." (2 Cor 3:18)
*********
Come, Holy Spirit, like a dove descending,
Rest Thou upon us while we meet to pray;
Show us the Saviour, His great love revealing;
Lead us to Him, the Life, the Truth, the Way.
Come, Holy Spirit, every cloud dispelling;
Fill us with gladness, through the Master's Name:
Bring to our memory words that He hath spoken;
Then shall our tongues His wondrous grace proclaim.
Come, Holy Spirit, send from God the Father,
Thou Friend and Teacher, Comforter and Guide;
Our thoughts directing, keep us close to Jesus,
And in our hearts for evermore abide.
Robert Bruce
We have many questions and, often, so few answers. Some of them are not coherent, coming from an agony so desperate they feel more like accusations than questions. Where is God? What is he doing? Why isn't he doing more and more often? How can he choose to live in this mess?
There is much we need to know and much we want to know, especially at a time like this. On an evening of very many questions, spoken and retained, Jesus says to his disciples, "I have much more to say to you..." There's no intention to exclude them from knowing, from understanding. Rather, he intends to speak, to communicate, from the depths of God's mind to theirs, even with all their limitations.
But the time wasn't right for those disciples: "I have much more to say to you, more than you can now bear..."
I wonder how you'd have reacted to that? How you react in applying these words to yourself?
Perhaps you think Jesus is suggesting fault on the disciples' part - that he had more to say and they really ought to be able to hear it, but there's a lack in them. They're just not mature enough and they really ought to be by now. Because that's how you see your own relationship with the Lord - if something isn't happening now, isn't clear now, it's always because of a deficiency on your part. If there's blame to go around you're the natural home for it; you're a low-cost dumping ground for shame.
Or maybe your elemental response is that any talk of not being able to bear it means he's got bad news for them. News that is so devastating they couldn't take it at that moment. Because isn't that how it is in this world - we're always waiting to be told the calamity we feared most has now happened?
The first response is deeply sad and betrays a terrible insecurity. That really isn't how things are in life with Jesus as Lord. All lack is not down to you. Yes, the disciples could've done better many times but this isn't about their deficiencies. Whenever Jesus says something oblique it isn't to skewer you in your failures.
As for the second response, we need to remember that anything and everything that's bad in this world is only and ever penultimate; it isn't the final reality. We need to hold onto that.
And hold onto it with this in our hands: what they could not at that point bear was the fuller truth about Jesus. That all would be well and all manner of things would be well. They simply were incapable of holding within their hearts and minds the weight of glory that was going to be unveiled in the plan of God for the healing of the cosmos. The radiance of Jesus and the splendour of God's wisdom in all he would accomplish that would lead the apostle Paul to utter a memorable "O the depths!" (Rom 11:33)
Being told they were unable to bear the truth was not Jesus finger-pointing, nor was he alluding to sinister outcomes. Holding back what they couldn't then bear was a mercy, not a withdrawal of privilege. It was a recognition of their current frailty.
But of course that wasn't all Jesus said. He told them they couldn't then bear it but the Spirit of Truth was coming and, when he comes, he would lead them into all truth. He would usher them into that fuller sight of the glory and ways of Jesus, the radiance of the gospel. The light of the knowledge of God's glory displayed in the face of the Messiah (2 Cor 4:6).
And there lies our own encouragement and hope. Not that we, now living after Pentecost and being indwelt by the Spirit and having the whole Bible, have all the answers to every question and have scaled every peak of biblical insight. We simply don't and haven't. But we are invited to grow, to mature, through the work of the Spirit. Asking him to open our eyes to more of the glory of Jesus and to the ways of God that are higher than ours. To be our teacher through these days when we feel like amateurs, newcomers to walking by faith not by sight; growing us to bear more of the weight of the glory of Jesus.
That, increasingly, our experience would be that "we all, who with unveiled faces contemplate the Lord's glory, are being transformed into his image with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord who is the Spirit." (2 Cor 3:18)
*********
Come, Holy Spirit, like a dove descending,
Rest Thou upon us while we meet to pray;
Show us the Saviour, His great love revealing;
Lead us to Him, the Life, the Truth, the Way.
Come, Holy Spirit, every cloud dispelling;
Fill us with gladness, through the Master's Name:
Bring to our memory words that He hath spoken;
Then shall our tongues His wondrous grace proclaim.
Come, Holy Spirit, send from God the Father,
Thou Friend and Teacher, Comforter and Guide;
Our thoughts directing, keep us close to Jesus,
And in our hearts for evermore abide.
Robert Bruce
Monday, 20 April 2020
Some current Kindle theological bargains
Paul and the Trinity: Persons, Relations, and the Pauline Letters - Wesley Hill
Paul, Apostle of Liberty - Richard Longenecker
When the Kings Come Marching In: Isaiah and the New Jerusalem - Richard Mouw
God's Saving Grace: A Pauline Theology - Frank Mattera
Reading Jesus's Bible: How the New Testament Helps Us Understand the Old Testament - John Goldingay
The Inspiration and Interpretation of Scripture: What the Early Church Can Teach Us - Michael Graves
The Dance Between God and Humanity: Reading the Bible Today as the People of God - essays by Bruce Waltke
(these aren't necessarily books that I've read, just ones i've seen that interest me and might interest others too)
Paul, Apostle of Liberty - Richard Longenecker
When the Kings Come Marching In: Isaiah and the New Jerusalem - Richard Mouw
God's Saving Grace: A Pauline Theology - Frank Mattera
Reading Jesus's Bible: How the New Testament Helps Us Understand the Old Testament - John Goldingay
The Inspiration and Interpretation of Scripture: What the Early Church Can Teach Us - Michael Graves
The Dance Between God and Humanity: Reading the Bible Today as the People of God - essays by Bruce Waltke
(these aren't necessarily books that I've read, just ones i've seen that interest me and might interest others too)
Friday, 17 April 2020
Joy in the Journey (10) - Do not weep
Do not weep (Revelation 5)
From within his isolation and exile on Patmos, John tells us, "I wept and wept." But these were not tears for the hardships he was enduring; they were tears because no-one was found worthy, anywhere in all creation, to open the scroll he had seen. The scroll sealed with seven seals, the scroll with writing inside and out.
This is the scroll that holds recorded the plans of the living God, the purposes of his heart. Plans to restore order and beauty to a world of chaos, to bring light into the darkness, to judge sin and evil, and to bathe all creation in his healing light. And no-one could open it. No wonder John weeps and weeps.
But a voice tells him to weep no more: someone has been found worthy to open it. Told that one is the Lion of the tribe of Judah, John turns only to see a lamb, looking as if it has been slain, bearing all the marks of suffering and sacrifice. This one - and John intuitively knows his identity - is worthy to take the scroll, to break open its seals, to unveil and unleash the saving works of God because he was slain and with his blood rescued those "from every tribe and language and people and nation."
God's plans for your life, for the life of his churches, for his great rescue mission in and for this world might seem to our limited view to be at something of a standstill. Education put on hold; employment uncertain; churches closed and mission agencies in limbo. But the reality is far different. In his life, our Lord Jesus was able to affirm that his Father was always at work and so he worked continually too. From prison, the apostle Paul could say that "God's word is not chained" because the all-worthy lamb, our Lord Jesus Christ, has shed his blood to open the seals.
Not chained in your life. Not chained in the church or in the world. Not chained but powerful and active and healing.
As the sun continues to rise each day, the Lord of life is active. His plans for fruitfulness continue to ripen - sowing, growing, reaping in our lives: joy in days of sorrow; hope when all around us seems broken beyond repair; faith in a risen Saviour.
And the fruit of worship as we join the chorus, "Worthy is the Lamb who was slain, to receive power and wealth and wisdom and strength and honour and glory and praise."
************
God moves in a mysterious way
His wonders to perform;
He plants His footsteps in the sea,
And rides upon the storm.
Deep in unfathomable mines
Of never-failing skill
He treasures up His bright designs,
And works His sovereign will.
Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take;
The clouds ye so much dread
Are big with mercy, and shall break
In blessings on your head.
Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,
But trust him for His grace;
Behind a frowning providence
He hides a smiling face.
His purposes will ripen fast,
Unfolding every hour;
The bud may have a bitter taste,
But sweet will be the flower.
Blind unbelief is sure to err,
And scan His works in vain;
Gos is his own interpreter,
And He will make it plain.
(William Cowper, 1731-1800)
From within his isolation and exile on Patmos, John tells us, "I wept and wept." But these were not tears for the hardships he was enduring; they were tears because no-one was found worthy, anywhere in all creation, to open the scroll he had seen. The scroll sealed with seven seals, the scroll with writing inside and out.
This is the scroll that holds recorded the plans of the living God, the purposes of his heart. Plans to restore order and beauty to a world of chaos, to bring light into the darkness, to judge sin and evil, and to bathe all creation in his healing light. And no-one could open it. No wonder John weeps and weeps.
But a voice tells him to weep no more: someone has been found worthy to open it. Told that one is the Lion of the tribe of Judah, John turns only to see a lamb, looking as if it has been slain, bearing all the marks of suffering and sacrifice. This one - and John intuitively knows his identity - is worthy to take the scroll, to break open its seals, to unveil and unleash the saving works of God because he was slain and with his blood rescued those "from every tribe and language and people and nation."
God's plans for your life, for the life of his churches, for his great rescue mission in and for this world might seem to our limited view to be at something of a standstill. Education put on hold; employment uncertain; churches closed and mission agencies in limbo. But the reality is far different. In his life, our Lord Jesus was able to affirm that his Father was always at work and so he worked continually too. From prison, the apostle Paul could say that "God's word is not chained" because the all-worthy lamb, our Lord Jesus Christ, has shed his blood to open the seals.
Not chained in your life. Not chained in the church or in the world. Not chained but powerful and active and healing.
As the sun continues to rise each day, the Lord of life is active. His plans for fruitfulness continue to ripen - sowing, growing, reaping in our lives: joy in days of sorrow; hope when all around us seems broken beyond repair; faith in a risen Saviour.
And the fruit of worship as we join the chorus, "Worthy is the Lamb who was slain, to receive power and wealth and wisdom and strength and honour and glory and praise."
************
God moves in a mysterious way
His wonders to perform;
He plants His footsteps in the sea,
And rides upon the storm.
Deep in unfathomable mines
Of never-failing skill
He treasures up His bright designs,
And works His sovereign will.
Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take;
The clouds ye so much dread
Are big with mercy, and shall break
In blessings on your head.
Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,
But trust him for His grace;
Behind a frowning providence
He hides a smiling face.
His purposes will ripen fast,
Unfolding every hour;
The bud may have a bitter taste,
But sweet will be the flower.
Blind unbelief is sure to err,
And scan His works in vain;
Gos is his own interpreter,
And He will make it plain.
(William Cowper, 1731-1800)
Thursday, 16 April 2020
Pastor, don't make your church your city
"Cain reaches for a kind of substitute for eternity by fathering a son and attempting to create a lineage. He initiates a city in his son's name, but without the protection of God. Fear grips him; his lineage, his memory, must be protected, so he creates a city, a location protected by walls and a watchtower - a memorial to himself and his family and protection against chaos in the world."
Mark Sayers, Strange Days: Life in the Spirit in a Time of Upheaval, p.26
Mark Sayers, Strange Days: Life in the Spirit in a Time of Upheaval, p.26
Wednesday, 15 April 2020
Why you need to keep reading and talking with other pastors
This is from a chapter reflecting on Calvin's work in A Pastoral Rule for Today:
The Company of Pastors embodied three practices designed to enhance fidelity to the Lord and Christian community that are just as foundational today.
First, regular, ongoing, in-depth study of Scripture remains fundamental to pastors' capacity to proclaim the gospel...Confining biblical study to private sermon preparation may lead to secondhand reliance on the work of others or to idiosyncratic interpretations...restricting study of Scripture to solitary consideration deprives a pastor of the insights and the corrections of others.
Second, serious and sustained theological study is an essential component of veracity in preaching, teaching, pastoral care, and mission. Continual theological engagement is necessary in building the pastoral capacity to understand contemporary culture and respond faithfully to its challenges, to deal knowledgably with church members' doubts and questions, to encourage faithful mission initiatives, and to wrestle with difficult moral issues...None of us possesses the rich theological wisdom necessary for the task. We need colleagues - both books and fellow pastors - as companions in the ongoing engagement with "the depth of the riches and wisdom and knowledge of God."
Third, biblical and theological wisdom is a necessary element in pastoral care. Church members deserve the truth of the gospel at all times, but certainly in moments of deep personal and communal significance...In moments such as these, pastors cannot fall back on pop therapy or religious cliches. Only constant probing of the deep mystery of God with us and for us in the dying and rising Christ can prepare pastors to serve the personal needs of congregations and members.
(A Pastoral Rule for Today p.100f )
The Company of Pastors embodied three practices designed to enhance fidelity to the Lord and Christian community that are just as foundational today.
First, regular, ongoing, in-depth study of Scripture remains fundamental to pastors' capacity to proclaim the gospel...Confining biblical study to private sermon preparation may lead to secondhand reliance on the work of others or to idiosyncratic interpretations...restricting study of Scripture to solitary consideration deprives a pastor of the insights and the corrections of others.
Second, serious and sustained theological study is an essential component of veracity in preaching, teaching, pastoral care, and mission. Continual theological engagement is necessary in building the pastoral capacity to understand contemporary culture and respond faithfully to its challenges, to deal knowledgably with church members' doubts and questions, to encourage faithful mission initiatives, and to wrestle with difficult moral issues...None of us possesses the rich theological wisdom necessary for the task. We need colleagues - both books and fellow pastors - as companions in the ongoing engagement with "the depth of the riches and wisdom and knowledge of God."
Third, biblical and theological wisdom is a necessary element in pastoral care. Church members deserve the truth of the gospel at all times, but certainly in moments of deep personal and communal significance...In moments such as these, pastors cannot fall back on pop therapy or religious cliches. Only constant probing of the deep mystery of God with us and for us in the dying and rising Christ can prepare pastors to serve the personal needs of congregations and members.
(A Pastoral Rule for Today p.100f )
Tuesday, 14 April 2020
Joy in the Journey (9)
The voice of the risen Lord (Revelation 1)
As the book of Revelation opens, the apostle John, the beloved disciple of Jesus, is in exile on the Island of Patmos - sent there because of "the word of God and the testimony of Jesus." Isolated because he was a Christian, serving Jesus, telling others the gospel story. Cut-off and acutely alone.
Our social isolation is for a good reason - to keep others, as well as ourselves, safe. But maybe within the isolation you also know another sense of exile - rejected by your family, perhaps because you take Jesus seriously; struggling with anxiety or temptation, your mind splintered into a thousand shards; or locked into the most painful memories or loss that the emptiness of these days only serves to heighten.
John was alone, suffering the corrupt and abusive power of human empire that sought to breed fear in all whom it victimised. And in that very place of isolation and exile, he is met by the most astonishing vision of his risen and glorified Lord. A vision not just for himself but a word to the Lord's people, then and now. A vision that beggars language to fully convey.
It is the embodied message of Easter that confronts him. The same risen Lord Jesus who suddenly appeared in a locked room appears to John in his ocean of isolation. He comes the broken heart to heal, to give strength and fresh resolve.
John falls at Jesus' feet, "as though dead", because real power belongs not to a corrupt empire but to a majesty and an authority that is clean and pure, shot through with all the holiness of God. But, in what CS Lewis calls "the heavy, golden voice of Aslan", John is told "Do not be afraid."
How many times he had heard those same words from the lips of Jesus, to so many people, in all the anguished scenes of human life. And those tones now fall on John's ears again: don't be afraid. Despite living in a world of human corruption and cosmic evil, the presence of uncreated, original goodness means fear is misplaced. And the one whose face "was like the sun shining in all its brilliance" speaks on:
I am the First and the Last : The beginning and the end. No one before him; none after. All else is consequential and penultimate; but not Jesus. His being enfolds John's life and the whole of history.
I am the Living One : Yes, he was dead, once, slaughtered on a Roman cross, but he rose again in triumph, emptying the tomb of its sinister shadows. And not just alive for a season: I am alive for ever and ever. He has consigned death to the wastelands of history.
I hold the keys of death and Hades : The authority over the final enemy is held in the safe hands, the nail-pierced hands, of Jesus. He is Lord, over all of John's life and destiny and over our lives and futures. No other power comes close. And no-one and nothing can or will ever be able to pluck you from his hands.
The vision given to John is passed on to us, not to make us envious, but as John's brothers and sisters who are "companions in the suffering and kingdom and patient endurance that are ours in Jesus". The words of Jesus enter our isolation, our exile, our lonely days, with power to tame our fears and strength for our fainting hearts.
*************
As the book of Revelation opens, the apostle John, the beloved disciple of Jesus, is in exile on the Island of Patmos - sent there because of "the word of God and the testimony of Jesus." Isolated because he was a Christian, serving Jesus, telling others the gospel story. Cut-off and acutely alone.
Our social isolation is for a good reason - to keep others, as well as ourselves, safe. But maybe within the isolation you also know another sense of exile - rejected by your family, perhaps because you take Jesus seriously; struggling with anxiety or temptation, your mind splintered into a thousand shards; or locked into the most painful memories or loss that the emptiness of these days only serves to heighten.
John was alone, suffering the corrupt and abusive power of human empire that sought to breed fear in all whom it victimised. And in that very place of isolation and exile, he is met by the most astonishing vision of his risen and glorified Lord. A vision not just for himself but a word to the Lord's people, then and now. A vision that beggars language to fully convey.
It is the embodied message of Easter that confronts him. The same risen Lord Jesus who suddenly appeared in a locked room appears to John in his ocean of isolation. He comes the broken heart to heal, to give strength and fresh resolve.
John falls at Jesus' feet, "as though dead", because real power belongs not to a corrupt empire but to a majesty and an authority that is clean and pure, shot through with all the holiness of God. But, in what CS Lewis calls "the heavy, golden voice of Aslan", John is told "Do not be afraid."
How many times he had heard those same words from the lips of Jesus, to so many people, in all the anguished scenes of human life. And those tones now fall on John's ears again: don't be afraid. Despite living in a world of human corruption and cosmic evil, the presence of uncreated, original goodness means fear is misplaced. And the one whose face "was like the sun shining in all its brilliance" speaks on:
I am the First and the Last : The beginning and the end. No one before him; none after. All else is consequential and penultimate; but not Jesus. His being enfolds John's life and the whole of history.
I am the Living One : Yes, he was dead, once, slaughtered on a Roman cross, but he rose again in triumph, emptying the tomb of its sinister shadows. And not just alive for a season: I am alive for ever and ever. He has consigned death to the wastelands of history.
I hold the keys of death and Hades : The authority over the final enemy is held in the safe hands, the nail-pierced hands, of Jesus. He is Lord, over all of John's life and destiny and over our lives and futures. No other power comes close. And no-one and nothing can or will ever be able to pluck you from his hands.
The vision given to John is passed on to us, not to make us envious, but as John's brothers and sisters who are "companions in the suffering and kingdom and patient endurance that are ours in Jesus". The words of Jesus enter our isolation, our exile, our lonely days, with power to tame our fears and strength for our fainting hearts.
*************
Thou whose Name is callèd Jesus,
Risen Lord of life and power,
O it is is so sweet to trust Thee
Every day and every hour!
Of Thy wondrous grace I sing,
Saviour, Counsellor, and King.
Thou canst keep my feet from falling,
Even my poor wayward feet -
Thou who dost present me faultless,
In Thy righteousness complete;
Jesus, Lord, in knowing Thee,
O what strength and victory!
All the sin in me, my Saviour,
Thou canst conquer and subdue;
With Thy sanctifying power
Permeate my spirit through;
Let thy government increase,
Risen, crownèd, Prince of Peace.
Thou canst keep me upward looking,
Ever upward in Thy face;
Thou canst make me stand, upholden
By the greatness of Thy grace;
Every promise of Thy Word
Now I claim from Thee, dear Lord.
O, what joy to trust Thee, Jesus,
Mighty Victor o’er the grave,
And to learn amid earth’s shadows
Thine unceasing power to save!
Only those who prove Thee know
What the grace Thou dost bestow.
Make my life a bright outshining
Of Thy life, that all may see
Thine own resurrection power
Mightily put forth in me;
Ever let my heart become
Yet more consciously Thy home
Jean Sophia Pigott (1845-82)
Friday, 10 April 2020
Joy in the Journey (8)
The word that sustains the weary (Isaiah 50)
As you wake on this Good Friday morning you may feel weary. Many of us are at the moment - physically and emotionally drained, by different routines, increased demands, confined spaces and cloistered relationships. Weary, but needing to keep on keeping on, day after relentless day.
Please listen to the Servant of the Lord as he speaks of himself:
The Sovereign LORD has given me a well-instructed tongue,
to know the word that sustains the weary.
Words that come from lips drenched in grace (Psalm 45:2). Words that are full of light and space and cooling breezes from heaven's shores. The servant - the Lord Jesus - says "He wakens me morning by morning, wakens my ear to listen like one being instructed." Fully alert to all the will and ways of his Father. Fully in sympathy with the character and heart of God. And so he speaks with a tongue well-instructed; all-knowing and all-sustaining.
But on this day of all days, look further into these verses. The word that sustains the weary comes from the fully-obedient Servant:
The Sovereign LORD has opened my ears;
I have not been rebellious,
I have not turned away.
And in full obedience he was the Suffering Servant:
I offered my back to those who beat me,
my cheeks to those who pulled out my beard;
I did not hide my face
from mocking and spitting.
The cost of his suffering was beyond price and yet he set his face like flint - determined, resolute, commited to the very end, the untold depths of the cross.
And it is he who addresses you this morning. Speaks as the one who drank, alone, the whole cup of suffering in order to bring you salvation. Speaks to you of holy love, tested and proved, love that was placarded on the cross; of faithfulness and mercy enthroned in the centre of history, higher than the heavens, deeper than the oceans.
His word is able to sustain you today, in all the weariness of life. He speaks as one who knows the exhaustion, who shared the sorrows, who faced-down all the monsters of evil and chaos, who won peace for you - peace by his blood, shed on the cross.
He is speaking, still, his words to the weary. Let's make his experience our prayer: that the LORD would waken us morning by morning, waken our ears to listen like one being instructed. Let's not try lighting our own fires, to make our way in flawed and failing wisdom, but instead,
Let the one who walks in the dark,
who has no light,
trust in the name of the LORD
and rely on their God.
*********
I have a Friend whose faithful love
Is more than all the world to me,
’Tis higher than the heights above,
And deeper than the soundless sea;
So old, so new,
So strong, so true;
Before the earth received its frame,
He loved me—Blessed be His name!
He held the highest place above,
Adored by all the sons of flame,
Yet, such His self-denying love,
He laid aside His crown and came
To seek the lost,
And, at the cost
Of heavenly rank and earthly fame,
He sought me—Blessed be His name!
It was a lonely path He trod,
From every human soul apart;
Known only to Himself and God
Was all the grief that filled His heart:
Yet from the track
He turned not back,
Till where I lay in want and shame
He found me—Blessed be His name!
Then dawned at last that day of dread
When, desolate, yet undismayed,
With wearied frame and thorn-crowned head,
He, now forsaken and betrayed,
Went up for me
To Calvary,
And dying there in grief and shame
He saved me—Blessed be His name!
Long as I live my song shall tell
The wonders of His matchless love;
And when at last I rise to dwell
In the bright home prepared above,
My joy shall be
His face to see,
And bowing then with loud acclaim,
I’ll praise Him—Blessed be His name!
C.A Tydeman
Wednesday, 8 April 2020
Mary Oliver on Fostering the Inner Life
Men and women of faith who pray—that is, who come to a certain assigned place, at definite times, and are not abashed to go down on their knees—will not tarry for the cup of coffee or the newsbreak or the end of the movie when the moment arrives. The habit, then, has become their life. What some might call the restrictions of the daily office they find to be an opportunity to foster the inner life. The hours are appointed and named; they are the Lord’s. Life’s fretfulness is transcended. The different and the novel are sweet, but regularity and repetition are also teachers. Divine attentiveness cannot be kept casually, or visited only in season, like Venice or Switzerland. Or, perhaps it can, but then how attentive is it? And if you have no ceremony, no habits, which may be opulent or may be simple but are exact and rigorous and familiar, how can you reach toward the actuality of faith, or even a moral life, except vaguely? The patterns of our lives reveal us. Our habits measure us. Our battles with our habits speak of dreams yet to become real. I would like to be like the fox, earnest in devotion and humor both, or the brave, compliant pond shutting its heavy door for the long winter. But, not yet have I reached that bright life or that white happiness—not yet.
Mary Oliver, from Habits, Differences and the Life that Abides, in Long Life: Essays and Other Writings
Mary Oliver, from Habits, Differences and the Life that Abides, in Long Life: Essays and Other Writings
Tuesday, 7 April 2020
Joy in the Journey (7) - Do not let your hearts be troubled
Troubled hearts need comfort. Lives that have been engulfed by the storms of sorrow need healing and hope. John 14:1-3 is a large serving of 'just what's needed':
Do not let your hearts be troubled. You believe in God; believe also in me. My Father’s house has many rooms; if that were not so, would I have told you that I am going there to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am.
Jesus has told his disciples some very disturbing news. He is going away from them and they cannot follow him, at least not for now (13:33). He has repeatedly spoken to them of the fact he will be taken by the Jewish leaders and killed. That time is now at hand.
Yet they are not to let their hearts be troubled or afraid (verse 1 & verse 27). That's a tall order! But the reasons are laid out in verses 2 and 3, in some of the most well-known words in John’s gospel, words that have been read at countless funerals (I've done so myself often). They are words of deep and lasting hope for the future.
But they're not just for the future. They're not even primarily for the future. When Jesus speaks of going away and coming back we probably think he means going to heaven and then coming back at his second coming. But elsewhere in this chapter, he speaks of coming back and he clearly means after his resurrection (verses 18,19) or he means his coming to them by his Spirit (verse 23). It's very likely that he also has that in mind here.
Jesus is going away to prepare a place for them - and for us - in his Father's house, where there are 'many rooms'. His Father's house is his Father's household, his family (that's how the term is used in 8:35). And a 'room' is a place to rest and be refreshed, a place to remain, to dwell. Jesus is going away, through the agony of the cross, to prepare a place for us in his Father’s family, as beloved sons and daughters, a place in which there is rest and refreshing, safety and security.
That is a present reality for disciples, then and now, but wonderfully it is also a permanent reality: "a slave has no permanent place in the family (house) but a son belongs to it forever" (John 8:35). Forever belonging in the family of God in a place prepared by Jesus' going away to Calvary and coming back from the tomb.
Yes, it is true that there is more to come. We are not wrong to see these verses as having great future significance, when our adoption as God's children will be fully realised and we see him face to face. But in the here and now, the ‘now’ of many fears and anxieties, and of deep-seated insecurities, Jesus’ words offer us the solvent for our fears and the tonic for our troubled hearts: in our Father’s household are many resting places.
Your present troubles are not evidence that you are unloved and unwelcome. In the kindness of God they might even become occasions to discover the truth of his loving embrace more deeply. For in the Father’s heart we will ever remain as his cherished children.
********
Be still, my soul: the Lord is on thy side;
Bear patiently the cross of grief or pain;
Leave to thy God to order and provide;
In every change He faithful will remain.
Be still, my soul: thy best, thy heavenly Friend
Through thorny ways leads to a joyful end.
Be still, my soul: thy God doth undertake
To guide the future as He has the past.
Thy hope, thy confidence let nothing shake;
All now mysterious shall be bright at last.
Be still, my soul: the waves and winds still know
His voice who ruled them while He dwelt below.
Be still, my soul: the hour is hastening on
When we shall be for ever with the Lord,
When disappointment, grief and fear are gone,
Sorrow forgot, love's purest joys restored.
Be still, my soul: when change and tears are past,
All safe and blessed, we shall meet at last.
Katharina von Schlegel b. 1697;
tr. by Jane Laurie Borthwick 1813-97
Do not let your hearts be troubled. You believe in God; believe also in me. My Father’s house has many rooms; if that were not so, would I have told you that I am going there to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am.
Jesus has told his disciples some very disturbing news. He is going away from them and they cannot follow him, at least not for now (13:33). He has repeatedly spoken to them of the fact he will be taken by the Jewish leaders and killed. That time is now at hand.
Yet they are not to let their hearts be troubled or afraid (verse 1 & verse 27). That's a tall order! But the reasons are laid out in verses 2 and 3, in some of the most well-known words in John’s gospel, words that have been read at countless funerals (I've done so myself often). They are words of deep and lasting hope for the future.
But they're not just for the future. They're not even primarily for the future. When Jesus speaks of going away and coming back we probably think he means going to heaven and then coming back at his second coming. But elsewhere in this chapter, he speaks of coming back and he clearly means after his resurrection (verses 18,19) or he means his coming to them by his Spirit (verse 23). It's very likely that he also has that in mind here.
Jesus is going away to prepare a place for them - and for us - in his Father's house, where there are 'many rooms'. His Father's house is his Father's household, his family (that's how the term is used in 8:35). And a 'room' is a place to rest and be refreshed, a place to remain, to dwell. Jesus is going away, through the agony of the cross, to prepare a place for us in his Father’s family, as beloved sons and daughters, a place in which there is rest and refreshing, safety and security.
That is a present reality for disciples, then and now, but wonderfully it is also a permanent reality: "a slave has no permanent place in the family (house) but a son belongs to it forever" (John 8:35). Forever belonging in the family of God in a place prepared by Jesus' going away to Calvary and coming back from the tomb.
Yes, it is true that there is more to come. We are not wrong to see these verses as having great future significance, when our adoption as God's children will be fully realised and we see him face to face. But in the here and now, the ‘now’ of many fears and anxieties, and of deep-seated insecurities, Jesus’ words offer us the solvent for our fears and the tonic for our troubled hearts: in our Father’s household are many resting places.
Your present troubles are not evidence that you are unloved and unwelcome. In the kindness of God they might even become occasions to discover the truth of his loving embrace more deeply. For in the Father’s heart we will ever remain as his cherished children.
********
Be still, my soul: the Lord is on thy side;
Bear patiently the cross of grief or pain;
Leave to thy God to order and provide;
In every change He faithful will remain.
Be still, my soul: thy best, thy heavenly Friend
Through thorny ways leads to a joyful end.
Be still, my soul: thy God doth undertake
To guide the future as He has the past.
Thy hope, thy confidence let nothing shake;
All now mysterious shall be bright at last.
Be still, my soul: the waves and winds still know
His voice who ruled them while He dwelt below.
Be still, my soul: the hour is hastening on
When we shall be for ever with the Lord,
When disappointment, grief and fear are gone,
Sorrow forgot, love's purest joys restored.
Be still, my soul: when change and tears are past,
All safe and blessed, we shall meet at last.
Katharina von Schlegel b. 1697;
tr. by Jane Laurie Borthwick 1813-97
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