Known by the Saviour of the World (Joy in the Journey 66)

Who knows you? How well do they do so? And what is it they know? For most of us there are many things we keep hidden and yet we cherish a deep longing to be known - to be seen, to be recognised and received. It's part of being persons, made in the image of God.

When our Lord Jesus meets and strikes up a conversation with a woman at the well in the town of Sychar in Samaria, we see just how significant it is to be known, known by God.

You might know the story well. He asks for a drink and she is puzzled by it - he is unashamedly crossing boundaries. He tells her he can give her living water and she then shows that she is someone who is sincere about God, honouring Jacob as the one who gave them the well. When Jesus offers her water that will forever quench her thirst, she is eager for it. It's at this point that Jesus tells her to go and call her husband.

This is a famous moment in this brief encounter, but it's often misunderstood. Her reply ("I don't have a husband") is acknowledged by the Lord ("You have had five husbands and the man you're now with is not your husband"). This is often taken to be his way of exposing her sin and raising her guilt to the surface of their conversation. But John's account doesn't go in that direction. (In any case, that number of husbands is more likely to indicate a broken and abused life, not a cavalier and promiscuous one)

The woman's response is to affirm that Jesus is clearly a prophet and she takes that opportunity to ask him for his thoughts on where true worship of God can occur. Far from recalling her to the subject of her husbands and her sin, the Saviour answers her questions and leads her to see that he is the coming Messiah. Her longing, her sincere seeking, is at an end.

How does she respond to this encounter? What is it that stays with her, that makes her leave behind her water jar and go to speak to the very people she's likely been avoiding on account of her complex life? Just this: "Come, see a man who told me everything I've ever done." Everything about her was known by him - the crass betrayals, the callous disregard; the failed hopes and the portentous fears. All her trembling aspirations and fondest dreams.

She ought to have been known by her husband - but there have been five of them, each of whom put her away, finally abandoning her to an unmarried relationship. This man by the well, this stranger who speaks as no one ever spoke, is different and his knowing of her is different.

This may not seem all that significant to us at first glance, but it clearly was for the people of Sychar, for "Many...believed in him because of her testimony, 'He told me everything I've ever done'". They felt and were drawn by its relevance.

The Lord's dealings with people - with this woman, with us - are not, first and foremost, about sins, secret or otherwise. It's about being known as a person, fully and truly. Which will include all our sins and all our accumulated shame, of course, but it is more than that because we are more than the sum of all our wrongs.

We are persons, made by God and made to know God. Our sin separates us from him and must be atoned for, must be forgiven and its power over us broken. Only Jesus can do that, by the agonies of his cross. And he bears it all for us, not because we're his pet project but because we are people that he sees and knows and loves.

The biblical language of knowing for a marriage relationship is not accidental. It points us to the deepest level of intimacy, the centre-point of eternal life: to "know...the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom [he] sent" and being known by this God in all the cavernous depths of our soul.

The woman at the well is unnamed but she is not unknown. The Saviour of the world knows her, deeply and fully and truly. And the same Lord Jesus knows us. Nothing is hidden from him and nothing needs to be. We are seen and recognised and loved and embraced. Known by God.

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How good it is, when weaned from all beside,

With God alone the soul is satisfied,

        Deep hidden in His heart!

How good it is, redeemed, and washed, and shriven,

To dwell, a cloistered soul, with Christ in heaven,

        Joined, never more to part!

How good the heart's still chamber thus to close

        On all but God alone -

There in the sweetness of His love repose,

       His love unknown!

All else for ever lost - forgotten all

        That else can be;

In rapture undisturbed, O Lord, to fall

        And worship Thee.

No place, no time, 'neath those eternal skies -

How still, how sweet, and how surpassing fair

That solitude in glades of Paradise,

And, as in olden days, God walking there.

I hear His voice amidst the stillness blest,

        And care and fear are past -

I lay me down within His arms to rest

        From all my works at last.

How good it is when from the distant land,

From lonely wanderings, and from weary ways,

The soul hath reached at last the golden strand,

        The Gates of Praise!

There, where the tide of endless love flows free,

        There, in the sweet and glad eternity,

        The still, unfading Now.

Ere yet the days and nights of earth are o'er,

Begun the day that is for evermore -

    Such rest art Thou!

(Gerhard Tersteegen, 1697-1769; tr. Unknown)

Do my words make others eager to hear the gospel?

Pondering: if those who don't know or haven't heard the gospel could hear my words, read my comments, to or about fellow Christians, would they be eager to hear the gospel from me?

Do those words have the spirit of the gospel within them? Are they full of mercy and good fruit? Are they pure and peace-loving, considerate and submissive? Are they impartial and sincere?

Because those words surely disclose my heart. May they not betray the gospel.

The engaged sign (Joy in the Journey 65)

It would seem to be common sense: you need to have an engaged sign that you use to maintain some distance from others in life, the ability to self-isolate in a non-Covid way. To protect yourself, physically and mentally. You've got to think of you.

But, in the light of Jesus' call to sacrificial discipleship, that may sound like common sense but it doesn't sound like faithful living and following. You're only here once; your life needs to count - every minute of it. Redeeming the time because the days are evil. That sort of thing

Ever find yourself caught between those two poles - one that offers guilt-ridden respite and the other burnt-out service? Is there a better way?

Yes there is - and it's a way that our Lord Jesus himself took.

There are several times in the gospels where the Saviour absented himself from the crowds and even from his disciples:

• times when he and his disciples needed to rest - physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually (Mark 6:31).
• times when Jesus himself needed to be on his own in prayer (Mark 1:35; Mt. 14:23).
• times when he needed to experience the depths of sorrow in his own soul (Mt. 14:13).

Our own needs are not dissimilar and are legitimised by his own as the Son of Man.

But our Lord also sought distance from the crowds for the sake of his disciples' growth in knowing him and being taught by him (Mk. 9:30-32). The urgent needs of the crowds were unrelenting - there was always more to do, more to heal and help, and yet Jesus turns aside from them, for his disciples' sake.

And the teaching the disciples so needed to receive was that "The Son of Man is going to be delivered into the hands of men. They will kill him, and after three days he will rise." Teaching that they could not begin to process, that needed time to sink in, to be absorbed into their hearts and to reframe their thinking and whole outlook and expectations.

It is not disinterest in the needs of others that compels us to seek out such times for ourselves. Longing with all our hearts to "know him and the power of his resurrection and the fellowship of his sufferings, becoming like him in his death" is not cynical self-interest or callous disregard for the pain and lostness we see. It is indispensable preparation for serving others - not simply for healthy bodies, vital as they are, but even more for the mind of Christ to be cultivated within us and for our hearts to be strengthened in order "to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge - that [we] may be filled to the measure of all the fulness of God."

No doubt we ought to look for ways in which we can make that time. But, knowing that all our times are in his hands and at his direction and discretion, those times might be given to us in ways we did not expect. It would be good to be alert to that possibility.

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Here from the world we turn,

Jesus to seek;

Here may His loving voice

Tenderly speak.

Jesus, our dearest Friend,

While at Thy feet we bend,

O let Thy smile descend!

'Tis Thee we seek.

Come, Holy Comforter,

Presence divine,

Now in our longing hearts

Graciously shine!

O for Thy mighty power!

O for a blessed shower,

Filling this hallowed hour

With joy divine!

Saviour, Thy work revive,

Here may we see

Those who are dead in sin

Quickened by Thee.

Come to our heart's delight,

Make every burden light,

Cheer Thou our waiting sight;

We long for Thee.

(Frances Jane Van Alstyne, 1820-1915)

Joy in the Journey (64) - Godly hesitancy

James writes that each and every Christian ought to be "Quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry" (1:19) That caution comes with some justification: "because human anger does not produce the righteousness God desires."

It would seem an inherent, fallen trait that each of us is prone to be swift in forming opinions and drawing conclusions, whether of the Lord or of each other, and then in making our responses, which are often rash and ill-judged. The fall-out not only turns social media into a battlefield but also damages our relationships with each other. It also clouds our perceptions of the Lord and his ways with us.

Isaiah 11:3 tells us that one of the marks of the coming Messiah would be that "he will not judge by what he sees with his eyes, or decide by what he hears with his ears." Rather, "with righteousness he will judge the needy, with justice he will give decisions for the poor of the earth." His ways are considered and his responses made from a deep well of the Spirit's wisdom and understanding (v.2).

As creatures of time we're reliant upon our senses - what we see and what we hear - but we need more than them for clear and accurate perceptions of life and reality, and of our Lord and his character. What we need is for the Spirit our Lord Jesus had "without measure" to be our teacher, too, and to illuminate our minds and form our hearts.

In grace he is balm for our spirits, creating 'space' in our hearts and minds such that the rush to judgement is forestalled and we are able to be more reflective and embrace a godly hesitancy in thought and speech. Being quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to anger are hallmarks of the Spirit of Jesus at work within us.

Paul's exhortation to the Thessalonian church, "make it your ambition to lead a quiet life" (1 Thess. 4:11), and his urging believers to pray for national leaders so "that we may live peaceful and quiet lives in all godliness and holiness" (1 Tim. 2:3) sit naturally alongside James' concern for considered speech and action. Lives lived in that way reflect the character of the Messiah who "will not shout or cry out or raise his voice in the streets" (Is. 42:2).

James writes not only to highlight our frailties but also to encourage humble, honest prayer for wisdom - wisdom from above, pure and peace-loving, considerate and submissive, full of mercy and good fruit. When we ask for that wisdom to be ours we can be confident that the Father of the heavenly lights will not find fault with us but will be generous in answering our prayers, "for he knows how we are formed and remembers that we are dust" (Ps. 103:14) .

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Begone, unbelief;
My Saviour is near,
And for my relief
Will surely appear;
By prayer let me wrestle,
And He will perform;
With Christ in the vessel,
I smile at the storm.

Though dark be my way,
Since He is my guide,
’Tis mine to obey,
’Tis His to provide;
Though cisterns be broken,
And creatures all fail,
The word He has spoken
Shall surely prevail.

His love in time past
Forbids me to think
He’ll leave me at last
In trouble to sink;
Each sweet Ebenezer
I have in review
Confirms His good pleasure
To help me quite through.

Determined to save,

He watched o'er my path,

When, Satan's blind slave,

I sported with death;

And can He have taught me

To trust in His name,

And thus far have brought me

To put me to shame?

Why should I complain
Of want or distress,
Temptation or pain?
He told me no less;
The heirs of salvation,
I know from His Word,
Through much tribulation
Must follow their Lord.

How bitter that cup
No heart can conceive,
Which He drank quite up,
That sinners might live!
His way was much rougher
And darker than mine;
Did Christ, my Lord, suffer,
And shall I repine?

Since all that I meet
Shall work for my good,
The bitter is sweet,
The medicine, food;
Though painful at present,
’Twill cease before long;
And then, O how pleasant
The conqueror’s song!

(John Newton, 1725-1807)

In praise of the Bible reading plan that isn't (a plan)

For several years I'd used plans to read through the whole Bible, generally within a certain time-frame (a year, two years...). They're really helpful in making sure you read the whole Bible, not just favourite bits (there's no problem in having favourite bits but we do need the whole), and help keep you on track. So, plans are great but they can be restrictive and somewhat inflexible. Even the ones that give you some breathing room by only specifying readings for 5 or 6 days each week still impose a certain rigidity to the shape of the journey.

So I decided on a plan that wasn't a plan.

Each day I would read a psalm, a chapter of the Old Testament and a chapter of the New Testament. When I'd got through, say, the New Testament, I'd go back and start again. And if I felt like reading more in any of those sections then I could do so - nothing was tied together.

This scheme has several benefits. It allows you to spend more time in a particular book if you choose to do so, without messing up the whole plan. Or to take larger chunks of text which can also be refreshing and helpful. Once I decided to use the flexibility by reading through the Psalms in a month.

One of the most exciting results has been to see different parts of the Bible illuminating each other, on a rolling basis. When I used a plan the same passages from the Old and the New would appear together, year on year, on the same day; with this scheme there is a fluidity that often opens up new connections and enhances an appreciation of the Bible's organic unity.

I chose not to read in the usual order (see below). Instead, I read through the Old Testament in the order of the Hebrew Bible and the New Testament in blocks by authors or by what might be termed 'cultural milieu' (so Matthew is followed by Hebrews, James and Jude because of their Jewish settings). This means the gospels recur more regularly - I couldn't bear the thought of reading through all four and then not read them again until the plan was complete, as had been the case in most of the plans I'd used.

I've used this scheme for 5 years now and have read through the Psalms 14 times, I'm on my 4th reading of the Old Testament and 9th of the New Testament. Those aren't written as achievements, simply to illustrate how it can work out. One year I felt I was reading too slowly through the Old Testament so doubled-up and read from two books at once. Because you can.

As with most plans you can vary when you read to suit your circumstances. Maybe a psalm before a time of prayer then one of the other readings, followed by a time later in the day for the remaining section. Or the whole reading in one sitting. It's not a competition and everyone can find a rhythm that suits them for their own situation, for that time in life.

So a plan that's not really a plan. I've found it so helpful and have written this up in the hope that others might too.

******

Reading order:

Old Testament
Genesis
Exodus
Leviticus
Numbers
Deuteronomy
Joshua
Judges
1 Samuel
2 Samuel
1 Kings
2 Kings
Isaiah
Jeremiah
Ezekiel
Hosea
Joel
Amos
Obadiah
Jonah
Micah
Nahum
Habbakuk
Zephaniah
Haggai
Zechariah
Malachi
Proverbs
Job
Song of Songs
Ruth
Lamentations
Ecclesiastes
Esther
Daniel
Ezra
Nehemiah
1 Chronicles
2 Chronicles

New Testament
Matthew
Hebrews
James

Jude
Mark
1 Peter
2 Peter
Luke
Romans
1 Corinthians
2 Corinthians
Acts
Galatians
Ephesians
Philippians
Colossians
1 Thessalonians
2 Thessalonians
1 Timothy
2 Timothy
Titus
Philemon
John
1 John
2 John
3 John
Revelation

Joy in the Journey (63) - The LORD who longs to be gracious to you

Isaiah 30:15 opens with some of the most gorgeous words in the Bible: the Sovereign LORD, the Holy One of Israel, says to his people that

"In repentance and rest is your salvation;
in quietness and trust is your strength."

Turning back to the LORD from our folly and foibles, confessing and forsaking our all-too-familiar sins and choosing to rest in God is in itself salvation, the royal road to the relief of rescue. To put aside all the noise of our nervous laughter and the nonsense of our boasts - embracing instead the stillness of quiet and consciously, deliberately, placing our trust in our Saviour, we will discover and enter a strength not of our own making.

The appeal of the Holy One is winsome and full of a warmth that compels and draws. Such a tender, loving entreaty.

"But you would have none of it."

The tragedy in those words is unspeakable. Such is the distortion of sin in deforming our souls that words which freely offer life in place of festering decay are summarily dismissed.

We should not miss the significance of what this says, not simply of others but of ourselves, too. Under the influence of sin we are capable of self-destructive madness, choosing instead to forge our own escape route out of life's despairs, a road that only leads to intensified misery. The LORD lays bare the way of life and there are times we can barely bring ourselves to walk one step on it.

Sin doesn't only take us to the edge, it is intent on hurling us over. Who could deliver us from such a body of death?

The One who in the face of such blatant and wilful rejection declares,

"Yet the LORD longs to be gracious to you;
therefore he will rise up to show you compassion.
For the LORD is a God of justice.
Blessed are all who wait for him!"

It isn't over.

There is hope beyond the rebellion, a rescue after the hurling aside of the overtures of grace. The one thing that ultimately matters, that truly counts, is his determination to bless. It is his stand against all our sin and its condemnation in the flesh of his Son, our Lord Jesus, that gives convulsive sinners lasting hope.

Are you a Christian who knows that your struggles with sin are not yet over? Who feels the agony of betraying the Lord who gave himself for you? Then pair that biblical realism with the sovereign goodness that will never fail you, the love that will not let you go.

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Depth of mercy! can there be

Mercy still reserved for me?

Can my God his wrath forbear?

Me, the chief of sinners spare?

I have long withstood His grace,

Long provoked Him to His face,

Would not hearken to His calls,

Grieved Him by a thousand falls.

Whence to me this waste of love?

Ask my Advocate above!

See the cause in Jesu's face,

Now before the throne of grace.

There for me the Saviour stands;

Shows His wounds and spreads His hands.

God is love; I know, I feel;

Jesus lives, and loves me still.

Jesus, answer from above:

Is not all Thy nature love?

Wilt Thou not the wrong forget?

Suffer me to kiss Thy feet?

If I rightly read Thy heart,

If Thou all compassion art,

Bow Thine ear, in mercy bow;

Pardon and accept me now.

(Charles Wesley, 1707-88)

Don't just tell someone to pray about it

...It is when we come face to face with God and meditate upon Him that we are finally delivered from that low level of rational thinking and begin again to think spiritually. I wonder whether there is someone who is surprised that I have not put prayer first, or at least before this. I am sure there are some, because I know a number of Christian people who have a universal answer to all questions. It does not matter what the question is, they always say, 'Pray about it.' If a man in the Psalmist's condition had come to any one of them they would have said, 'Go away and pray about it.' What a glib, superficial and false bit of advice that can often be, and I am saying that from a Christian pulpit. You may ask, Is it ever wrong to tell men to make their problems a matter of prayer? It is never wrong, but it is sometimes quite futile. What I mean is this. The whole trouble with this poor man, in a sense, was that he was so muddled in his thinking about God that he could not pray to Him. If we have muddled thoughts in our mind and heart concerning God's way with respect to us, how can we pray? We cannot. Before we can pray truly we must think spiritually. There is nothing more fatuous than glib talk about prayer, as if prayer was something which you can always immediately rush into.

D. Martyn Lloyd-Jones, Faith on Trial, p.41

Joy in the Journey (62) - When Jesus prayed Psalm 71

Many of the psalms have very specific fulfilment in the life and experiences of our Lord Jesus. Psalm 16, for example, is regularly used in the New Testament in that way. Yet, in a larger sense, we can reflect on how these songs would have been experienced by him, because, in common with his people, our Lord was familiar with the whole psalter; they were his prayer book.

(The confessions of sin, of course, are not his own but taking those words upon his lips would have been part of his identification with the sorrows and struggles of sinful people, part of his growing into the faithful high priest who is touched by the feeling of our infirmities.)

Psalm 71 is a good example of how we might engage in that kind of reading. Thinking about how these very words would have spoken to the experience of our Lord, how his own Spirit would have sustained him through them, as he expressed his confidence in his Father ("In you, LORD, I have taken refuge") and the sure and certain hope of rescue from all that evil could do to him ("you will restore my life again; from the depths of the earth you will again bring me up.").

Reading a psalm in this way is not an academic exercise in drawing lines of connection to our Saviour. Rather, it is learning to see our own experiences appropriated and absorbed by our Lord. It is seeing, through his own eyes, the outworking of atonement in our place.

And, in seeing, we are drawn into worship and reverence for the Lord Jesus Christ. Here is love, vast as an ocean. Seeing what was ahead of him, feeling constantly the opposition of sin and, with the oppression of darkness marking his every step, he walked into the furnace in our place and, having suffered to untold depths, emerged with victory assured in the blaze of resurrection light.

He has indeed become a sign, a marvel, to many - to us (v.7).

A sign through which we can learn what it means to walk by faith and not by sight, as we cast our all upon our Father in heaven, knowing that what was true for his dear Son will also be true for his sons and daughters, adopted freely by grace. Knowing that he is the rock of refuge to whom we can always go (v.3). And finding our mouths filled with his praise, declaring his splendour all day long (v.8).

Our Saviour sang Psalm 71 and invites us to join him.

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Come down, O Love divine,
Seek Thou this soul of mine,
And visit it with Thine own ardour glowing;
O Comforter, draw near,
Within my heart appear,

And kindle it, Thy holy flame bestowing.

O let it freely burn,
Till earthly passions turn
To dust and ashes, in its heat consuming;
And let Thy glorious light
Shine ever on my sight,
And clothe me round, the while my path illuming.

Let holy charity

Mine outward vesture be,

And lowliness become mine inner clothing;

True lowliness of heart,

Which takes the humbler part,

And o'er its own shortcomings weeps with loathing.

And so the yearning strong,

With which the soul will long,
Shall far outpass the power of human telling;
For none can guess its grace,
Till he become the place
Wherein the Holy Spirit makes His dwelling.

(Bianco da Siena, tr. Richard Littledale, 1833-90)

For a lovely version of this hymn, click here.

Joy in the Journey (61) - Encouraged in heart, united in love

How much does it matter that you and I are "encouraged in heart and united in love"? Are they the icing on the cake for the Christian life? We all want to feel encouraged and we'd also like to know a loving unity with others but, if they're missing, we'll just soldier on and make the best of what we can...?

Paul's take on this is that it matters greatly. In Colossians 2:1ff he speaks of how hard he is contending for them - putting his all into praying for them, labouring to bring them to God and to plead for his blessing on them, as was Epaphras (see 4:8). To what end? So that they might be "encouraged in heart and united in love".

But why do these matter so much? Why is Paul hung up on them, especially as we might not see them as being quite so significant? The answer is in the words that follow:

"So that they might have the full riches of complete understanding, in order that they may know the mystery of God, namely Christ, in whom are hidden all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge."

Being encouraged in heart and united in love are key to our progress and growth into maturity as Christians. They are indispensable to our knowing Christ and all the fulness that is found only in him. So let's think a little about each of them:

To be encouraged in heart means to be strengthened in the centre of our being, in our will and affections, our disposition and emotions. It means being built up in all the dimensions of our core life.

Paul has something similar in mind when he prays in Ephesians 3:16f that "out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith..."

Part of the key to growing into maturity is God's work in our hearts - strengthening them with his love, moving and changing our will and affections, illuminating our understanding, moving us to reflect upon his glory and to fix our eyes on Jesus. We co-operate with and promote his work in us as we humble ourselves before him, as we open his Word and open our hearts to worship him.

That's what Paul was contending for in prayer.

The second part of his aim, and the desire and longing of his prayers, is that they would be "united in love".

The importance of loving unity cannot be overstated, because it reflects the very heart and life of God himself, in the beautiful, loving harmony of the one God in three persons.

The church is a whole and the Christian life is inherently communal, even allowing for the rich variety of our differing temperaments. Every part of the body is necessary to the health of the whole; no part is dispensable.

The life we live together is to be marked by the love that flows from the living God into our hearts. A love that is sacrificial and other-seeking, a love that suffers long and is kind and more besides. A love that cannot be drummed-up by exhortation but grows most naturally in the soil of the lived experience of God's love for us in the giving of his Son in our place.

We cannot grow to maturity in Christ without genuine loving unity with our brothers and sisters, where such fellowship is possible. Rancour and disdain not only mar our testimony before a watching world, they also cause our hearts to shrivel and decline away from the Lord. The childishness (not child-likeness) of the church in Corinth sadly confirms this for us.

For every Christian, the desire to know Christ is central. Which is why we need to join Paul in praying for, and putting into place the things that tend toward, our being encouraged in heart and united in love.

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Thou Shepherd of Israel, and mine,
The joy and desire of my heart,
For closer communion I pine,
I long to reside where Thou art:
The pasture I languish to find
Where all, who their Shepherd obey,
Are fed, on Thy bosom reclined,
And screened from the heat of the day.

Ah! show me that happiest place,
The place of Thy people’s abode,
Where saints in an ecstasy gaze,
And hang on a crucified God.
Thy love for a sinner declare,
Thy passion and death on the tree;
My spirit to Calvary bear,
To suffer and triumph with Thee.

'Tis there, with the lambs of Thy flock,
There only, I covet to rest,
To lie at the foot of the rock,
Or rise to be hid in Thy breast;
'Tis there I would always abide,
And never a moment depart,
Concealed in the cleft of Thy side,
Eternally held in Thy heart.

(Charles Wesley, 1707-88)

Am I a fraud if I find it easier to pray with others?

"I find praying together with others so much easier and more satisfying than praying on my own. But I heard someone say that what we are, alone, on our knees before God, is what we really are. Does this mean that I'm a fraud?"

******

That's a really interesting question and says a lot, even in the asking. Questions about the genuineness of our faith and the security of our relationship with Jesus seem to be never far away for many people. Mostly, it's a sign of an insecure but genuine faith and is something that can be worked-on over time. Maybe the best way of working on it is not to focus on it but, instead, to fix our eyes on Jesus, who he is and what he's done; to focus on God and his character - his faithfulness and truth; and to leave the work of the Spirit to the Spirit.

But the question itself also deserves an answer. If you're deliberately trying to be something you know you're not before others then that is concerning. It doesn't mean you're a full-out fraud but at the very least it indicates that others' estimation of you looms too large in your thinking. That's something to examine, as to why it matters so much. There are many possible reasons for it, which are a whole conversation in themselves, but, again, one of the best ways to handle it is to see yourself as united to Christ and accepted by God in him, the only one whose acceptance of us counts for anything.

The saying referred to is helpful up to a point, that point being the one we've just made. But there's more to say. We all have different temperaments and personalities. Some are very gregarious, others far more introverted, and still others have aspects of both in their makeup. So we ought to expect variations in our preferences and in what helps us. Blanket statements are good for giving a general picture but they fail at parsing particularities.

But, beyond that, the Bible itself points up the blessing of praying together with other people. Without minimising Jesus' instruction to 'go into your room and close the door' when we pray, it isn't everything the Bible has to say to us about prayer. Our Lord himself was overheard praying by his disciples. The apostle Paul could speak about the prayers of Epaphras for the church in Colossae. Instructions to prayer are often given in the plural (for a church as a body).

That the prayers of others become something we find we can 'inhabit' in a prayer meeting, finding encouragement and the enlarging of our own heart - even the expression of our own heart - is not so far removed from experiencing the same thing when reading the prayers in the Psalms. We ought to expect that our hearts will be knitted to those of our brothers and sisters at a soul-deep level when we pray together.

And finding that sometimes, perhaps often, our appreciation of God and our sense of access to him is heightened in those times is not something to make us ashamed of our personal struggles but, rather, should encourage us to persevere in seeking God for ourselves.

Joy in the Journey (60) - Let your gentleness be evident to all

The exhortation to rejoice and the invitation to not be anxious for anything but to bring all to God in prayer are a very well-known and much-loved part of Paul's letter to the Philippians (chapter 4). But within those verses is another call that gets less attention: "Let your gentleness be evident to all" (verse 5).

When times are tough and our hearts are bundles of anxieties and fears, when it seems like there is no easy way out of the challenges that face us, being gentle - being gentle to all - is far from certain. Fears paralyse our hearts and anxieties pull us inwards. And we find ourselves responding to others harshly, becoming censorious and cynical, robbed of joy.

Paul's instruction, Let your gentleness be evident to all, is a wake-up call to be heard above the noise of strife that fills our minds so constantly.

But we must be careful not to mistake a natural timidity of character for the gentleness Paul writes of. True gentleness is a tenderness of spirit and a lightness of touch in our dealings with others, as well as in our thoughts toward them and our prayers for them. It is a carefulness of speech and a consideration of our actions that takes great pains not to graze another's soul. If we ourselves are brittle and fragile, so too are others. Let your gentleness be evident to all.

Such gentleness isn't peculiar to particular personality types; it is a fruit of the Spirit of Jesus. And so Paul adds the most wonderful, brief companion statement: "The Lord is near." It is his presence now and the promise of his return in glory soon that enables such a transformation of our demeanour and responses.

The Lord is with us now and deals with each one of us so gently, with a love that knows every pain we bear and all the sensitivity of our psyche. And the nearness Paul writes of includes within it our Saviour's ultimate nearness: we shall not be abandoned to the squalor and the struggles of this life. Weeping may remain for a night but joy is coming in the morning.

Psalm 65:9-11 portrays the Lord's work in his world with a captivating beauty:

You care for the land and water it;
you enrich it abundantly...
You drench its furrows and level its ridges;
you soften it with showers and bless its crops.
You crown the year with your bounty,
and your carts overflow with abundance.

There is an intentional continuity between the hand of God in the fruitfulness of earth and his hand upon us, in the terrain of our hearts. He drenches the furrows of our lives by his presence and his word acts to level the ridges of our character, softening us with showers of loving-kindness. And when our Lord Jesus returns, not only ourselves but all creation will be crowned with beauty, overflowing with abundance as "We are filled with the good things of your house" (Ps. 65:4).

Until then, may our gentleness be evident to all because, truly, the Lord is near.

************

Have Thine own way, Lord,
Have thine own way;
Thou art the Potter,
I am the clay.
Mould me and make me
After Thy will,
While I am waiting
Yielded and still.

Have Thine own way, Lord,
Have Thine own way;
Search me and try me,
Master, today.
Whiter than snow, Lord,
Wash me just now,
As in Thy presence
Humbly I bow.

Have Thine own way, Lord,
Have thine own way;
Wounded and weary,
Help me I pray.
Power, all power,
Surely is Thine;
Touch me and heal me,
Saviour divine.

Have Thine own way, Lord,
Have Thine own way;
Hold o'er my being
Absolute sway.
Fill with Thy Spirit
Till all shall see
Christ only, always,
Living in me.

(Adelaide Addison Pollard, 1862-1934)

If character matters more than gifts...

 If it is true that, for pastors and elders, character matters more than gifts (as most seem agreed is the case), then that will also hold true within the church more broadly. Which would seem to indicate that character is more essential than gifts for the church to be effective in reaching out to others with the gospel.

Which perhaps leads to the conclusion that those who serve as pastors and elders ought to focus most not on developing gifts within the church (and those identified for ministry) but on the formation of character. And that, I would suggest, is most helpfully done through preaching, prayer and pastoring.

Joy in the Journey (59) - Finding rest in God

The opening words in Psalm 62 call to us, across the centuries, and perhaps resonate with us as being 'for such a time as this': "Truly, my soul finds rest in God."

David's experience is summed-up in the imagery of verse 3 - he is a leaning wall, a tottering fence. He is vulnerable in the extreme. It wouldn't take much, at all, to finish him off. His resources have become depleted and his strength has waned and failed.

In his life there is conflict and strife; others intend to do him as much harm as they can. Their opposition is blatant and certain. Whether that in any way tallies with our own circumstances, it is always the case that we have an enemy who prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking whom he may devour. And, so, we too might share in David's awareness of being so utterly open to attack.

But within the swirling currents of multiple threats, David affirms with great certainty ('Truly') that God is his rock and his salvation, that he is David's fortress. And so he is able to find a place of secured rest; he will not be shaken.

Notice that the rest that David knows is "in God", in his character and ways, in his commitment to protect his loved ones from all harm. It is a rest grounded in the reality that "Power belongs to you, O God, and with you, O Lord, in unfailing love" (v.11f). Power can be so easily abused but the one with power beyond all human telling exercises it in the love that is at the very centre of his being. We can rest securely in that.

It may well be that the Lord chooses to bring us to rest through indirect means - time spent in the open air, a piece of music, the company of a trusted friend. Or he may soothe our anxious, unstable hearts by the calming, healing work of his Spirit, in the quietness of the unseen spaces of the soul. However he chooses to do so, the rest he freely gives is one that is able to sustain us through the most perplexing and challenging of times.

The certainty with which David writes can be ours, too, because he is the unchanging God, engraving onto our own lives the grace of a Saviour who encountered the most depraved hostility and who suffered in order to become our victorious and glorious Head.

************

Jesus, I am resting, resting

In the joy of what Thou art;

I am finding out the greatness

Of Thy loving heart.

Thou hast bid me gaze upon Thee,

And Thy beauty fills my soul,

For by Thy transforming power

Thou hast made me whole.

O how great Thy lovingkindness,

Vaster, broader than the sea!

O how marvellous Thy goodness,

Lavished all on me!

Yes, I rest in Thee, Beloved,

Know what wealth of grace is Thine,

Know Thy certainty of promise,

And have made it mine.

Simply trusting Thee, Lord Jesus,

I behold Thee as Thou art,

And Thy love, so pure, so changeless,

Satisfies my heart;

Satisfies its deepest longings,

Meets, supplies its every need,

Compasseth me round with blessings;

Thine is love indeed!

Ever lift Thy face upon me,

As I work and wait for Thee;

Resting 'neath Thy smile, Lord Jesus,

Earth's dark shadows flee.

Brightness of my Father's glory,

Sunshine of my Father's face,

Keep me ever trusting, resting;

Fill me with Thy grace.

(Jean Sophia Pigott, 1845-82)

Contending hard for God's people

Most pastors probably feel that they're working hard right now on behalf of their churches - tackling things we've maybe never had to tackle before, things specific to the pandemic. That hard work is good and proper and ought not to be shunned. But something Paul says in Colossians 2:1 struck me very forcefully when reading it recently.

He wants them to know just how hard he is contending for them. What is striking isn't that he feels he needs to tell them (it's actually good for them to know this); it's what that contending, that desperately hard work, consists of.

From the context - and from the similarly-worded description of Epaphras in 4:12 - it's clear that Paul is speaking about his prayers for them.

He's in prison, let's remember, so he can't be referring to very much by way of other types of activity on their behalf. And somehow I don't imagine he has in mind writing letters to the emperor or to the local authorities in Colossae and Laodicea to petition for the believers there. You might say he at least means the letter he's writing to them - after all, that's a form of ministry that probably wasn't dashed off before an afternoon siesta - and instructing Tychicus before he goes back to them. Well, maybe he would include those - but there's so little doubt as to what he really means. He's speaking about his prayers for them - prayers that have been reported on, briefly, in 1:9ff.

This praying, this interceding - and let's not forget it's for believers he's not yet met - comes under the heading of hard work. He's contending for them in his prayers - taking their side, pleading for them, wrestling for them. It drains him. He suffers in doing so. This isn't a few pleasant and polite requests; it's hard work, it's demanding labour. It's warfare.

Not because the one to whom he prays is a reluctant hearer of prayer. That's not the case at all. No, the intensity is because of the significance of the issues for which he prays - the maturing of the believers into fully-assured and fruitful Christians, who won't be deceived by fine-sounding arguments or taken captive by hollow and deceptive philosophy. And because there are all manner of obstacles being put in the way of that, both seen and unseen, whose only intent is to harm and destroy the church.

The content and the contention in Paul's prayers is a continual rebuke to my own. But they also provide a model and a framework for me, for us, to embrace and to get down to work with. These are surely days in which we need to be contending hard in prayer for the Lord's people, both near and far.

Joy in the Journey 58 - Listening to God until...

For every Christian, listening to the Lord, paying attention to his Word, is not a matter of debate; it's an almost instinctive and delightful bend of the heart to hear our Father's voice.

Until it isn't.

In Acts 22, the apostle Paul is giving a defence of himself to the crowd in Jerusalem, having been rescued from certain death by the Roman commander. He speaks to them of his life history in Judaism and of his conversion on the road to Damascus. The crowd listens to his account and his experience of the risen Jesus quietly, until he speaks of being sent to the nations so that they also might receive grace. At this point they erupt in anger, "Rid the earth of him! He's not fit to live!"

The crowd that heard Paul are clearly not comparable to Christians eager to listen to their Lord and Saviour. But hearing the voice of the Lord can be severely challenging - not because what he has said is indistinct and unclear but because the opposite is true.

Throughout the Christian life the gospel continues to challenge our prior commitments, our predispositions and prejudices, and it undercuts our self-righteousness and self-identification.

For the crowd in Acts 22, that self-identity was as 'most favoured nation' and the other nations as being unworthy of redemption. That is unlikely to be our particular challenge but it can all too easily be the case that our sense of identity is tied too tightly to the particular sub-culture (tribe) we belong to, the particular flavour of 'evangelical' or how we believe that ought to play-out in terms of our politics or other viewpoints. And when that happens, tempers can rise and a sense of outrage is inflamed.

You see this all the time online. But it also happens in person - and our hearts are not immune. The churches of Galatia were not uniquely susceptible to the temptation to bite and devour one another.

And the antidote lies in the very truth that we smart under - the gospel of God. What do we have that we did not receive, and received entirely by grace? Did God's word originate with us or are we the only ones it has reached? Is there anything that counts before him except faith expressing itself through love and the new creation?

What we are, we are by the sheer grace of God. Our standing is entirely 'in Christ', in whom alone our hope is found. As that reality undercuts our pride, it establishes our hearts in grace and works a generosity of spirit that refuses to recognise the dividing walls of hostile tribalism.

So let's go on eagerly listening to our Lord in his Word - the humbling it brings is that we might be further raised into the likeness of our Saviour.

************

In Christ alone my hope is found,
He is my light, my strength, my song;
This Cornerstone, this solid Ground,
Firm through the fiercest drought and storm.
What heights of love, what depths of peace,
When fears are stilled, when strivings cease!
My Comforter, my All in All,
Here in the love of Christ I stand.

In Christ alone! – who took on flesh,
Fullness of God in helpless babe.
This gift of love and righteousness,
Scorned by the ones He came to save:
Till on that cross as Jesus died,
The wrath of God was satisfied –
For every sin on Him was laid;
Here in the death of Christ I live.

There in the ground His body lay,
Light of the world by darkness slain:
Then bursting forth in glorious day
Up from the grave He rose again!
And as He stands in victory
Sin’s curse has lost its grip on me,
For I am His and He is mine –
Bought with the precious blood of Christ.

No guilt in life, no fear in death,
This is the power of Christ in me;
From life’s first cry to final breath,
Jesus commands my destiny.
No power of hell, no scheme of man,
Can ever pluck me from His hand:
Till He returns or calls me home,
Here in the power of Christ I’ll stand.

(Stuart Townend & Keith Getty Copyright © 2001 Thankyou Music)

Joy in the Journey 57 - A glorious throne

Jeremiah 17:9 speaks of "A glorious throne, exalted from the beginning..." - the Lord's seat of honour, established in righteousness and justice. A throne that is for ever and ever; a throne that is set in heaven, commanding a full and proper perspective of all things. A throne that is from the beginning, upon which all creation is founded.

It is this throne that Ezekiel sees in his inaugural vision, a throne of Lapis Lazuli, brilliant in beauty and an appropriate setting for "a figure like that of a man... from what appeared to be his waist up he looked like glowing metal, as if full of fire, and that from there down he looked like fire; and brilliant light surrounded him."

For the beleaguered captives in Babylon to whom Ezekiel's visions were given, this was breath-taking and just the news they needed. The throne had not been vacated; the One whose seat it was remained upon it. As Isaiah's sight of the LORD - "high and exalted and seated on a throne" - had given much-needed perspective in a time of national upheaval so, too, would Ezekiel's. The greatest power belonged to heaven's King, not the pretenders of earth.

In days of crippling insecurity and instability, these are visions of a throne that are thrilling and compelling for us. Where does real power reside? Whose is it and how will it be wielded? The One whose throne is glorious.

But Jeremiah's statement offers us still more. "A glorious throne, exalted from the beginning, is our place of sanctuary." The throne of power and majesty and ineffable glory is also, for us, a place of refuge and safety. Amid the storm that has engulfed us, we have hope and a home with the God who reigns over all.

And to this exalted throne we can come with genuine confidence, for it is "the throne of grace" (Heb. 4:16). Grace reigns! Sin - our sin - has abounded, but grace has super-abounded. There is no power greater and no authority superior. And so we, who are imperfect and soiled, stumbling in the darkness and conscious of the damage we have done, can yet draw near to God with solid assurance. We can ask for the cleansing, healing mercy of our Saviour and find it. We can plead for grace for a world lost in sin, for those we know and love whose lives remain shrouded in darkness. 

We can ask and we can be assured, quieted by his love as we are held in his grace, because "standing at the centre of the throne" is "a Lamb, looking as if it had been slain." The glory witnessed by Ezekiel is at its brightest and most radiant in the face of our blessed Saviour, whose throne of grace is our place of sanctuary.

************

Done is the work that saves,

Once and for ever done;

Finished the righteousness

That clothes the unrighteous one.

The love that blesses us below

Is flowing freely to us now.

The sacrifice is o’er,

The veil is rent in twain,

The mercy-seat is red

With blood of Victim slain;

Why stand we then without, in fear?

The blood divine invites us near.

The gate is open wide;

The new and living way

Is clear and free and bright

With love and peace and day.

Into the holiest now we come,

Our present and our endless home.

Upon the mercy-seat

The High Priest sits within;

The blood is in His hand

Which makes and keeps us clean.

With boldness let us now draw near,

That blood has banished every fear.

Then to the Lamb once slain

Be glory, praise, and power,

Who died and lives again,

Who liveth evermore,

Who loved and washed us in His blood,

Who made us kings and priests to God.

(Horatius Bonar, 1808-89)

Chris Wright on Paul's preaching & teaching re idolatry

Paul's evangelism was uncompromisingly effective but not calculatingly offensive. Paul could speak the truth with grace and respect. He did not have to disparage and demean his listeners in order to display and commend the gospel. We could learn from him.

Comparing Paul's theological argument to Christians in Romans 1 with his evangelistic preaching to pagans recorded in Acts, there is a marked difference of tone, even though there is certainly no clash of fundamental conviction. It is the same theology but in different tones.

• Romans, written to Christians, highlights the wrath of God. Acts in recording speeches made to pagans, highlights God's kindness, providence, and patience. Both, however, do explicitly insist on God's judgement.
• Romans portrays idolatry as fundamentally rebellion and suppression of the truth. Acts portrays it as ignorance.
• Romans portrays the wickedness that idolatry spawns. Acts portrays idolatry as "worthless".
• Romans points out how perverted the idolater's thinking has to be. Acts points out how absurd it is when you stop and think about it.
• Paul could excoriate idolatry as "a lie" before Christian readers but did not blaspheme Artemis before her pagan worshippers.

So there is a difference in tone and tactic in Paul's confrontation with idolatry depending on the context of his argument. However, we should be clear that in both cases, he is building all he has to say on very solid scriptural foundations, for every one of the points mentioned above, even though they have differing and balancing emphases, can be related to the Old Testament rhetoric against idolatry, as we have seen. It is particularly noteworthy that, although Paul nowhere quotes the Old Testament in his evangelistic preaching among Gentiles (as he so profusely does when speaking among Jews in synagogues), the content of his message is thoroughly grounded in, and plainly proclaims, the monotheistic creational faith of Israel.

Chris Wright, Here are your Gods, pp.55f

Joy in the Journey (56) - Being fed morning and evening

The account of Elijah by the brook in 1 Kings 17:2-6 is deeply moving. In a time of drought and distress, with the nation under the severest judgement because of the sins of the King and the people's capitulation to his idolatry, Elijah obeys the Lord's word and hides in the Kerith Ravine. He is a wanted man and in great danger, but the Lord has said he will shield him; Elijah is to drink from the brook and will be fed, morning and evening, at God's instruction, by ravens.

A demanding, fraught time in Elijah's life history is undergirded by the faithfulness of the living God, the waters of the brook a foreshadowing of the springs of living water that the Lord Jesus was to say would flow from within all who believed in him (Jn. 7:38), in the gift of the Spirit to all God's people. And every morning and every evening he would be fed, a pattern that has rich scriptural allusions:

The God he serves is the Creator of all things in heaven and on earth, the sole giver and sustainer of life, the one whose creative word declared, "And there was evening and there was morning". Elijah is fed by the One who knows his every breath, his every fear and his every weakness, his loving Maker. And ours too.

The God who made provision in the Law for morning and evening sacrifices. A reminder to Elijah of better times past and to come, of the abiding truth of God and the centrality of sacrifice. In barren days, secluded and isolated, Elijah was fed and nourished by the settled ways of God and his mercies. Worship remained; confessing his sins and knowing the Lord's forgiveness remained, each meal a taste of tender grace.

But these daily mealtimes also had a raw edge to them: ravens were unclean birds and the food they delivered would be ritually contaminated. No doubt this was hard for Elijah to swallow. And yet, the insight they offer is profound: one day, Elijah's people would be faced with a more perplexing call, to "eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood," without which there could be no forgiveness of sin and no sharing in eternal life (Jn. 6:35-59) - the eating and drinking of believing in Jesus as the Messiah, as sent by the one the Father, as the Son of God "who loved me and gave himself for me".

Our privilege, in these darkening days, is to be fed daily and to feed, morning and evening, on the Living Bread who gave himself for the life of the world, whose self-giving is real food and real drink, able to shelter and sustain, to give hope in the darkest hours.

The ways of God can still seem strange to us; we do well to "judge not the Lord by feeble sense". But they are ways filled with the light of an endless morning.

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Almighty Father of mankind,
On Thee my hopes remain;
And when the day of trouble comes,
I shall not trust in vain.

In early days Thou was my guide,
And of my youth the Friend:
And as my days began with Thee,
With Thee my days shall end.

I know the power in whom I trust,
The arm on which I lean;
He will me Saviour ever be,
Who has my Saviour been.

My God, who causedst me to hope,
When life began to beat,
And when a stranger in the world,
Didst guide my wandering feet;

Thou wilt not cast me off when age
And evil days descend!
Thou wilt not leave me in despair,
To mourn my latter end.

Therefore in life I'll trust to Thee,
In death I will adore,
And after death I'll sing Thy praise,
When time shall be no more.

(Michael Bruce, 1746-67)

Joy in the Journey (55) - Are you envious because I'm generous?

The generosity of God in the gospel of his Son is astonishingly deep. It moves our hearts to humbled worship and Spirit-given joy. Its proclamation in Jesus' parable of the workers in the vineyard in Matthew 20 is so clear and full: those who were only employed for the final hour of the day are given the same reward as those who had laboured throughout. Grace is not a wage, it is a gift, given freely from the heart of God.

The parable, of course, isn't teaching about the economics of employment. It is quite clearly focussed on the grace of God that reaches those lost in sin, the marginalised and excluded, and makes them, from the start, full members of the kingdom of God, fully accepted children in his family - loved, cherished, honoured.

We rejoice with those who rejoice in the salvation that God has lavished upon them. We glory in the One whose presence and blessing transforms them, with increasing likeness, into the image of his Son.

Yet the response in the parable of those who had worked all day raises an important challenge for us: when they grumble, the Master asks them a question that goes straight to our hearts, too: "Are you envious because I am generous?"

We are not immune to such a spirit. It's a question that can be asked of churches and ministries that see other congregations thriving, perhaps having only recently begun. The temptation is to explain away the growth as somehow fake and founded on dubious methods. It's a question that faces us when we see others blessed in the very things we ourselves lack and have longed for. Why them and not us? Where have we gone wrong? What have they done right?

The challenge is real and it has repercussions that go to the very heart of how we relate to the Lord. When we struggle over the joy of others, it can lead to our view of God becoming tainted and the basis of our relationship with him distorted. In the parable, envy is wedded to expectation on the grounds of merit and the generosity of the Master is deemed incongruous.

The pain and distress of trials, as well as our desire for vindication that affirms our worth before others, can lead us to demand we be treated according to what we feel we deserve from God. Others have received, why haven't we? Haven't we, after all, "borne the burden of the work and the heat of the day"? Haven't we suffered long enough to have earned a reprieve and a reward? Such thoughts disclose a spirit of slavery, not sonship.

Discarding grace for merit is the road to disappointment, frustration and bitterness. However hard we might sometimes find it to rejoice in others' blessings, we need to ask God for his help to do so. Because the alternative is grievous; the arid joylessness of demanding we be paid our 'wages' will never lift. Life - eternal life, in all its expansive fulness - is entirely and truly the gift of God.

************

Lord of the cross of shame,
set my cold heart aflame
with love for you, my Saviour and my Master;
who on that lonely day
bore all my sins away,
and saved me from the judgement and disaster.

Lord of the empty tomb,
born of a virgin's womb,
triumphant over death, its power defeated;
how gladly now I sing
your praise, my risen King,
and worship you, in heaven's splendour seated.

Lord of my life today,
teach me to live and pray
as one who knows the joy of sins forgiven;
so may I ever be,
now and eternally,
one with my fellow-citizens in heaven.

(Michael Saward, 1932-2015)