Through the hard things

Tim Keller was recently interviewed about his latest book, Hope in Times of Fear, written as he suffers from pancreatic cancer. He was asked,

After distinguishing between good things, hard things, and best things, you conclude: “The Bible’s teaching is that the road to the best things is not through the good things but usually through the hard things.” How does this difficult message—a prime example of the Bible’s pervasive “Great Reversal” theme—subvert the world’s values? And how can we communicate it in a sensitive and attractive way?

This was his answer:

That contrast between the good things and the hard things comes from an exposition of Luke 6, where Jesus says “blessed” are those who are poor, hungry, grieving, and marginalized; and “woe” (or “curses”) to those who get power, comfort, success (the word for “laugh” in verse 25 means to gloat in victory), and popular recognition.

What can Jesus mean? In light of the rest of the Bible he can’t mean that anyone who is successful (regardless of the state of their heart) is cursed, and anyone who is poor and marginalized is automatically blessed. But read in light of the entire canon it means that, in general, God brings strength out of weakness. He loves to work through the outsiders, the rejected, the unloved. And he so often brings strength, wisdom, and salvation itself into our lives through suffering. This pattern of divine dealing is a reflection of the ultimate accomplishment of glory and power out of suffering and weakness—the cross and resurrection.

The world—and especially our modern Western culture—has no understanding of how suffering and weakness can bring blessing. How do we communicate it in a sensitive and attractive way? I’m not sure there’s a better approach than, first, applying this to our own lives (so we don’t melt down under weakness like so many others in our time) and then, second, just being transparent.

Who then can be saved? (Joy in the Journey 97)

Jesus encounters a rich man who wants to know what he must do to inherit eternal life (Mark 10:17ff). The sticking-point for his untrammelled faith in God is his considerable wealth. That has his heart and his hopes, not the living God. When he leaves, downcast, our Lord tells his disciples, “How hard it so for the rich to enter the kingdom of God” (because the choice to change allegiance from mammon to God is so acutely painful).

This amazes the disciples. But Jesus goes even further. It’s not only hard for such a person to enter God’s kingdom, it’s actually impossible (that’s the point of the camel/eye of a needle comparison). To which, in even greater amazement, the disciples ask, “Who then can be saved?”

Their perspective becomes clear: it is the rich that have God’s approval. If they are outwardly blessed then they must be inwardly so too. Material prosperity is a key marker of a successful life with God. That’s how they saw things. And, so, if the rich cannot be saved then no-one else stands the remotest chance.

This remains deeply significant for us. And not simply in terms of money (but that, too). This mindset - of outward success and comfort being evidence of God’s favour, and perhaps even drawing his favour - is unfalteringly attractive to the human heart.

We look to make sure we have all our ducks in a row, because if they’re absent or if the line is skewed then we’re unlikely to know the presence and goodness of God in our lives and in our churches. The right education - a held-together family - a successful and secure career - bucket-loads of friends - good looks - copious respect. We can keep adding into the list. These, these are what we really and truly need, says a nagging voice of doubt.

And so they capture our trust and our hopes are pinned on them. No fruitful Christian life without them. No thriving church if they’re absent. And all the while we slowly diminish, growing inwardly smaller, our souls wasting away.

The whole account puts our hearts to the test.

But it also contains everything we need to reverse the decline, to halt the fall into a withering waste. When the rich man made his case for eternal life on the basis of his achievements, “Jesus looked at him and loved him.” A look of genuine compassion and concern. He was for the man, wanting him to know true and unmerited blessing, the holy love of God that cannot be bought or sold.

From that starting-point - that we are loved by the living God - the crowning statement of our Lord to his disciples paves the way for a response of humbled faith: “All things are possible with God.” What is sheer impossibility for crippled humanity, completely defective in how we determine true value, is more than viable to the one whose words can bring life out of nothing.

‘All things’ includes your life taken up into the powerful grace of God, even in the midst of the most trying circumstances (Jesus doesn’t hide the fact that eternal life now comes with troubles - v.30). Your life flourishing and fruitful in the faithfulness of the Saviour. And churches having their life deepened and their testimony to the beauty of Jesus clarified and strengthened.

These happen not through any resources we have hoarded, nor by wedding ourselves to our society’s values and basis of approval. We are entirely in the Lord’s hands - the hands of unbreakable covenant love. To him we turn, eagerly and expectantly, in the unearned joy of eternal life.

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Give to the winds thy fears;

Hope, and be undismayed:

God hears thy sighs, and counts thy tears;

God shall lift up thy head.

Through waves, and clouds, and storms

He gently clears thy way;

Wait thou His time, so shall this night

Soon end in joyous day.

Leave to His sovereign sway

To choose and to command;

So shalt thou wondering own His way,

How wise, how strong His hand.

Far, far above thy thought

His counsel shall appear,

When fully He the work hath wrought

That caused thy needless fear.

Thou seest our weakness, Lord;

Our hearts are known to Thee:

O lift Thou up the sinking hand,

Confirm the feeble knee!

Let us in life, in death,

Thy steadfast truth declare,

And publish with our latest breath

Thy love and guardian care.

(Paul Gerhardt, 1607-76;

tr. John Wesley 1703-91)

In jars of clay (Joy in the Journey 96)

Between the solidity of God's promises and our experience of life in the here and now, there are ambiguities. Not because his promises are provisional, nor because they claim too much and cannot be truly kept. The ambiguity is down to where we’re situated, where we find ourselves: in the overlap of the ages, in the now-but-not-yet. The time of the first-fruits but still awaiting the full harvest.

Navigating that tension is one of the key challenges for wisdom and one of the true markers of our maturing as Christians. Get things out of perspective and we're easily knocked off balance. Either driven to distrust the Lord who has loved us and to doubt the justice of his reign, or forced into a pretence that all is as well as it ever could be, that we don’t struggle, not in the slightest.

The Bible encourages us to face the reality of the 'not yet' in our own experiences. We struggle, still, with sin. We feel pain as we empathise with those who carry the weightiest burdens. Along with this fractured creation we grieve and we groan. We agonise, asking who will finally be able to deliver from this collective body of death?

At the same time, by faith, “we do see Jesus, who was made lower than the angels for a little while, now crowned with glory and honour.” He is our hope, in its entirety. The forerunner, the champion, who has gone on ahead of us, clearing all the obstacles of sin “by tasting death, the death deserved by us.” The resurrection of our Saviour was the first ray of light in the birthing of a new creation.

And it is this Lord Jesus who says to us, as he did to the church in Pergamum, “I know where you live.” Knows that we’re in the tension of the in-between time, in a world where evil still exists and continues to disrupt and distort. Feels with us and for us as we gather our perplexities before him in prayer, lamenting even as we rejoice.

This was graphically portrayed in the life of the apostle Paul. His testimony to the Corinthian church remains the most acute portrayal of the Christian life in this fast-fading age:

“We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed.” (2 Cor. 4:8,9)

Not denying the hardships and their pain but, along with them, knowing the vital reality of the risen life of the crucified Saviour, with and among his people. It is the Lord Jesus who is the key to every “but not” spoken by Paul.

And this contradictory experience, this wrestling on towards heaven that has both light and shade, is held within a gospel purpose that sustains our own hope:

“We have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us…(2 Cor. 4:7)

We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body.” (2 Cor. 4:10)

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Far off I see the goal

    O Saviour, guide me;

I feel my strength is small;

    Be thou beside me:

With vision ever clear,

With love that conquers fear,

And grace to persevere,

    O Lord, provide me.

Whene’er Thy way seems strange,

    Go Thou before me;

And, lest my heart should change,

    O Lord, watch o’er me;

But should my faith prove frail,

And I through blindness fail,

O let Thy grace prevail,

    And still restore me.

Should earthly pleasures wane,

    And joy forsake me,

If lonely hours of pain

    At length o’ertake me,

My hand in Thine hold fast

Till sorrow be o’erpast,

And gentle death at last

    For heaven awake me.

There with the ransomed throng

    Who praise for ever

The love that made them strong

    To serve forever,

I too would see Thy face,

Thy finished work retrace,

And magnify Thy grace,

    Redeemed forever.

(Robert Rowland Roberts, 1865-1945)

The lifter of my head (Joy in the Journey 95)

Do you have days when you feel you’re facing overwhelming odds? You have torrents of troubles and sorrows that sheet down like rain. There are people who choose to be at odds with you, who seemingly want to negate your life. Legitimate opportunities are closed off and your contribution is annulled and labelled worthless?

Welcome to Psalm 3. As it opens, David is expressing his own version of that kind of experience. The problems and the problem people are many. It’s unrelenting. They just never give up.

And from there he speaks words that are ours to take hold of with the hungriest of hearts:

    But you, O LORD, are a shield around me,
    My glory, the One who lifts my head high.
    I call out to the LORD,
    And he answers me from his holy mountain.

The living God, the eternal One, is David’s protector, his shield, his defender and provider. His refuge against the onslaught. There are no gaps in his defences, no weak links in the chain of his loving commitment. His guardian care is invincible.

Those who stand against David hold him in derision and scorn. They pour shame like water upon his head, they trash his reputation with fierce falsehoods. This is his downfall, the end of his career, the termination of his tenure. He’s at their mercy and they will show him none.

But David’s head is lifted high, in honour. He belongs to the Holy One and is vindicated by him. He is David’s glory - the One who stands up for him, who is unashamed to be fully aligned with him. The One who shares his own status with David, gives him his name and covers him with his own royal robes.

Our Lord Jesus willingly associates himself with us, declares that we are his and defends us as his own beloved people. He will not allow us to suffer final shame.

And the raising of our heads that takes away all our disgrace and dishonour, lifting us into living hope, is the action of the One who bowed his head and gave up his spirit, under the enormous load of sin’s desolation. The one whose sacrifice saves us from all the bitter fruit of our fallenness and cleanses the squalid, fetid ground of our hearts.

David calls to the LORD and is answered from his holy hill - from the temple itself, the very centre of God’s presence on earth. This is no incidental assistance. But another ‘holy mountain’ would in time draw our eyes and fill our hearts with astonishment, the hill just outside the city walls where our Lord Jesus offered himself for us. From that hill comes the Lord’s answer: “It is finished.” From there he speaks words of full forgiveness, words that promise not simply paradise but life with the Lord, in his eternal presence.

His intervention on our behalf is not our just desserts; it is entirely by his gracious resolve. And so it is certain, the only sure foundation when we are overwhelmed.

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For ever here my rest shall be,

    Close to Thy bleeding side;

This all my hope, and all my plea,

    For me the Saviour died!

My dying Saviour, and my God,

    Fountain for guilt and sin,

Sprinkle me ever with Thy blood,

    And cleanse, and keep me clean.

Wash me, and make me thus Thine own,

    Wash me, and mine Thou art,

Wash me, but not my feet alone,

    My hands, my head, my heart.

The atonement of Thy blood apply,

    Till faith to sight improve,

Till hope in full fruition die,

    And all my soul be love.

(Charles Wesley, 1707-88)

Keep yourselves in the love of God (Joy in the Journey 94)

Love is a choice, however much we might feel we’ve been swept up by it. And God’s love of us is a choice, a choice he made before the foundation of the earth. Which means his love is not generated by our actions nor can it be lost through them. To be loved by the living God is the most sure and certain reality we could ever know. Love that was written on the pages of history by the blood that was shed upon the cross.

We cannot make God love us more (nor less). But we can affect our own conscious enjoyment of that love. Jude gives his readers helpful instruction on how to do just that:

But you, dear friends, by building yourselves up in your most holy faith and praying in the Holy Spirit, keep yourselves in God’s love as you wait for the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ to bring you to eternal life. (v.20,21)

Build yourselves up in your most holy faith - take whatever steps you can to enlarge your grasp of who God is and all that he has done for you in his Son. This is the faith that was “once for all entrusted to the saints” (v.3). A treasure beyond words that has its origins in the heart of God. The story of redeeming love, of the beloved Son of God riding forth to rescue the lost, those who chose the broad road that leads to destruction.

Fill your hearts and minds, Jude is saying, with the details as well as the big picture. Soak yourselves in it. Be drenched in steams of living water. Feast upon your Saviour. Whatever opportunities you have, take them with both hands. And if can create more then do.

And do this personally and together. Jude doesn’t suggest it’s an either/or; it’s so clearly a both/and. You and I and we, building ourselves up in this faith, enlarging our hearts and minds; tasting, seeing and embracing this most holy faith.

All the while “praying in the Holy Spirit”. Ok…but what does that mean, what does it involve? Far from being an abstract experience that is big on mystery and mystique, this is a call to pray in conscious awareness of the work of God’s Spirit. And so it means praying

• in the secure knowledge that we are the children of God, adopted by grace (he is the Spirit of adoption)
• in the wonder of the Father’s love (which is shed abroad in our hearts by the Spirit).
• with a reliance upon the finished work of Jesus and delighting in such a Saviour (he is the Spirit of Jesus).
• with an honesty about our sin and a hunger for righteousness to mark all our days (he is the Holy Spirit)

Building ourselves up in the faith and praying out of it is key to a continued enjoyment of the love of God for us. Jude is making that connection clear. We keep ourselves right there as we make these choices.

And all this while we “wait for the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ to bring [us] to eternal life.” The road may be long or short but its end is certain: eternal life. Unending and unbroken fellowship with God as our intimate knowledge of him grows deeper each moment of the timeless sea of eternity.

Our arrival there is entirely due to “the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ”. It isn’t guaranteed by how much we enjoy his love now. The matter is out of our hands and in his nail-pierced ones. But Jude is anxious that his readers should know as much as is possible in this life of the captivating love of God. A love that transforms and sweetens every aspect of our lives and our characters. A love that becomes visible to others as we bathe our own souls in its light.

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I have not seen Thy face, O Lord,

Yet with my heart I love Thee;

For Thou hast plucked each tender cord

With pleasing touch of mercy.

O Saviour, Lord, my King and Friend,

I worship Thee with gladness;

And by Thy grace I will defend

The Name that brought me kindness.

I have not known Thee here on earth,

Yet with my soul I trust Thee;

For Thou hast stirred my thought to birth

Of God and heaven and glory.

O precious Saviour, hear my praise

With songs of joy and wonder;

For Thou hast taught my lips to raise

A theme of words so tender.

Now I have seen Thy glorious face,

With eyes of faith unveiling

The splendour of the theme of grace,

All to my mind revealing.

Such bliss and happiness is mine

To know the God of glory;

For who could call the Lord divine

But for Thy grace and mercy?

(William Vernon Higham, 1926-2016)

Trying to take charge of Jesus

The contrast could not be more stark: one group has come to take charge of Jesus, the other sits at his feet, devotedly learning. The real shock is that the former are Jesus’ mother and brothers, while the latter are some of the people of the town (Mk. 3:20-35).

It’s a scene that holds profound challenges for us.

If ever any group could claim the inside track on Jesus and have what they believed to be a legitimate claim upon him it was his mother and brothers. And that sense of privilege and position leads them here to attempt to control him, calling him out from the house. They believe that he’s out of his mind, a short journey away from the full-on unbelief and rejection of the teachers of the law who believe that “he is possessed by Beelzebul!”

This is so shocking that it might be hard for us to see any way in which we might even begin to approximate his family’s reaction. And yet it is sadly true that we can believe we have some kind of prior call upon the Lord, that before all others we have the right to his attention and his allegiance, that he simply must be compliant with our prayers and desires. That he is there to fulfil our agendas for our lives and for our church. No one knows better than we do, not even Jesus.

Of course that will seldom be overt; our sinful hearts know how to trade in subtlety. But it can be real, seeping into our prayers and insidiously debasing them. When we are blind to that and succumb to the temptation, it damages and undermines our worship and our glad dependence upon the Saviour. Would you be willing to ask the Lord to show you if that might the case with you? To pray with David, “Search me, O God and know my heart…see if there is any offensive way in me.” (Ps. 139:23f)

Thankfully, a better way is also on display in this passage.

The crowd that had gathered was so large and so insistent on seeing the Lord that neither he nor his disciples were able to eat. The house was so rammed with people there was no space to sit down for a meal. But some of them, at least, were not there just to gawk at this miracle-worker; they had come to sit and learn at Jesus’ feet.

They readily adopted the posture of disciples - learners of the Lord who listen in order to live in the light of all that he is and has said. This chaotic scene has, at its centre, a space and a place of calm, of unhurried reflection and the dawning of devotion. Is it possible that within the turbulent times of our own days there might also be that kind of ‘cleft in the rock’ where we can choose the better part and sit with Jesus?

For those who did so then, and for all who do so today, the Lord Jesus utters unspeakably precious words: he declares that these are his true family - his brother and sister and mother. Those who do the will of God by placing their faith in his Son and their lives into his hands are openly acknowledged to belong to his family. Cherished and welcomed, honoured and humbled, blessed without measure.

Not seeking to take control of the Lord but captivated by his grace.

A Better Country (Joy in the Journey 93)

There are so many things in life we could wish were ‘better’. Better health; better job; better friendships. We long for things to be different, to be improved. And perhaps we can see that, for others, it does indeed appear to be better. From the little that we can see, they seem to have what we lack. In a time of national distress those comparisons can seem even starker. And the memories of better times we cherish and that have often comforted us now cruelly mock our present loss.

The saints of old who are celebrated in Hebrews 11 are said to have been longing for “a better country”. Not an earthly one, where they had won the culture wars, but a heavenly one, not susceptible to change and decay. An inheritance that cannot be stolen or soiled. A country that is the dwelling place of God. A city with foundations whose builder and maker is God. In every way it deserves to be thought of as ‘better’.

It’s possible that one of the significant differences between the way they handled their distress and how we find ourselves responding to our own is where they were looking and how they looked.

Their eyes were not so much fixed on the terrain of their troubles but were lifted to the farther horizon, to the better country and to the God who had prepared a lasting home for them. Lifting our eyes to take in that view can be hard. We’re often overcome and in our weakness we wilt under the heat of trial. We walk with our eyes lowered to the ground and our hearts deflated. Our only hope is to ask the Lord to grant us faith, to strengthen our trust and dependence upon him. It won’t self-generate. But he is wonderfully kind in meeting us in our frailties.

One of the striking points made about these saints is not only that they lived by faith but “were still living by faith when they died.” Their trust in God was not because he had already answered all their hopes (which is sight, not faith). The better country was not yet present - it had been made clear to them that perfection awaited the full complement of God’s people. All they could do - and what they did in such exemplary manner - was to see and welcome the promises from a distance, to embrace them, cherishing every present indication of their ultimate fulfilment.

In Lamentations 3:21 there is a similar movement of the soul: “Yet this I call to mind and therefore I have hope…” Embracing the promises of God, even at a distance, and welcoming them into our lives requires a deliberate choice, the humbled heart open to receive and not closed by cynicism.

All the while as they did this - and through the very act of doing so - they admitted that they were foreigners and strangers on earth. Lasting security and ultimate reality lay elsewhere, with the God whose promises would one day be fulfilled in and through his Son. Their sense of non-belonging didn’t dismiss the joys of this present creation but saw, with piercing clarity, where true value and beauty lay, in the heavenly country.

This kind of perspective is hard-won but deeply consoling. It can revive a spirit that is fainting, athirst for substance and hope, in the knowledge of the better Saviour and his better country.

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Guide me, O Thou great Jehovah,

    Pilgrim through this barren land;

I am weak, but Thou art mighty,

    Hold me with Thy powerful hand.

        Bread of heaven

Feed me till I want no more;

Open Thou the crystal fountain

    Whence the healing stream doth flow;

Let the fiery, cloudy pillar

    Lead me all my journey through;

        Strong Deliverer,

Be Thou still my strength and shield.

When I tread the verge of Jordan,

    Bid my anxious fears subside;

Death of death and hell’s Destruction,

    Land me safe on Canaan’s side.

        Songs of praises

I will ever give to Thee.

(William Williams, 1717-91;

tr. Peter Williams, 1721-96)

“This time I will praise the LORD.” (Joy in the Journey 92)

Leah is the woman wronged by her father and rejected by her husband. Her story is told in Genesis 29, where she is used by her father to deceive her cousin Jacob into more service. It is a marriage made without reference to her hopes or her happiness. She is simply collateral damage as men misuse their power.

Verses 31-35 record the birth and naming of Jacob’s first four sons, all by Leah. Interestingly, it is she who names the children, not Jacob (who seems completely disinterested). The names, along with the reasoning behind them, give us insight into Leah’s pain and the travel of her soul.

When the first son is born, she names him Reuben, “because the LORD has seen my misery.” He has seen that she is unloved by her husband. Her hope is that now Jacob will love her. He will discern where God’s blessing lies and do rightly by her. She will be cleared of shame and attract his affection.

But that seems to have been a forlorn hope. Her life is unchanged, her pain unrelieved. For when her second son is born, she names him Simeon, “Because the LORD heard I am [still] not loved”. The fond hopes that surrounded the birth of Reuben were clearly not fulfilled; Jacob loves Rachel only. He is oblivious to the legitimate needs of his first wife. She is neglected and passed over.

Leah’s pain continues unabated. When her third son is born she names him Levi, ardently hoping that now, at last, his birth will cause her husband to be attached to her. Her hopes appear futile. She has been placed in an intolerable situation and not by her own choice. She is deeply pained at Jacob’s rejection and longs for him to have a change of heart, that the anguish in hers might be healed. But Jacob is impassive and unmoved, blind to the LORD’s favour towards Leah.

How much pain and rejection can one woman bear?

When her fourth son is born, she names him Judah saying, "This time I will praise the LORD." No mention now of her husband, nor of her desperate desire to be loved and accepted by him (a wholly legitimate desire). Leah, so slighted and demeaned, is not abandoned in her misery and with the birth of Judah she recognises it. No doubt the grief remains but she is able now to praise the LORD out of her pain. Reconciled to her situation, she is able to rejoice in the God who is ever-loving and ever-loyal to his people.

"This time" her focus is higher than her husband and her joy greater than he could arouse or sustain. To be loved and accepted by the LORD and to know his favour means more than anything else could. He has begun to fill her horizons and to satisfy her deepest longings. He had been with her at every step of her long and arduous journey, holding her heart when it broke apart, gifting and growing the faith that has now begun to blossom.

Her story speaks to us so powerfully as we wrestle with life and with aspirations that maybe entirely proper but remain unmet. Our misery is seen and we are known by the LORD. He is not unmindful of us. We might be tempted to measure his care in the currency of fulfilled longings but that is a false step, even if understandable. The true satisfaction of our search for happiness and meaning and the deepest acceptance is found supremely in the Lord. He is precious beyond words.

Leah’s struggle with her sister and her husband would be a running sore that continues to fester. But perhaps it’s no coincidence that at this point, for a time at least, "she stopped having children." Her joy was full and overflowing in knowing and worshipping the LORD.

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My Jesus, I love Thee, I know Thou art mine;

For Thee all the pleasures of sin I resign;

My gracious Redeemer, my Saviour art Thou,

If ever I loved Thee, my Jesus, 'tis now.

I love Thee because Thou hast first loved me

And purchased my pardon on Calvary's tree;

I love Thee for wearing the thorns on Thy brow,

If ever I loved Thee, my Jesus, 'tis now.

I will love Thee in life, I will love Thee in death,

And praise Thee as long as Thou lendest me breath;

And say when the death-dew lies cold on my brow,

If ever I loved Thee, my Jesus, 'tis now.

In mansions of glory and endless delight,

I'll ever adore Thee in heaven so bright;

I'll sing with the glittering crown on my brow,

If ever I loved Thee, my Jesus, 'tis now. 

(William Ralph Featherston, 1842-70)

The God of the double-lock (Joy in the Journey 91)

The first readers of the letter to the Hebrews were living in difficult times. Their faith was being assaulted and they faced strong temptation to refute Jesus as the unique Saviour and to become re-absorbed into their previous way of life. Their commitment was on a knife-edge; they’d reached a crossroads and were being pulled towards defection.

And so the writer/preacher speaks to them in 6:18 of a double-lock - the promise of God to Abraham, sealed with an oath made in his own name. This is intended to end all argument: the God for whom it is impossible to lie has spoken. This is more than a promise being set in stone; this is embedded in his own strength of character. Nothing could be more certain.

The upshot is that those who receive the promise, who stake their all on it, “may be greatly encouraged”. In a world of slander and the slippery pathway into temptation’s big blue eyes, there is a hope that has a secure foundation. It doesn’t rest in the performance of the readers; it isn’t guaranteed by their resolution. It depends entirely on the God whose promise is to bless all peoples - a promise sealed by his oath.

This secure hope has been taken back into God’s presence, carried there by “our forerunner Jesus”. That journey into the inner sanctuary, the throne-room of God, makes this hope “an anchor for the soul, firm and secure”. Nothing can change what God has said and what Jesus has done. Nothing can move him from his commitment to his promise; nothing can cause him to revoke the oath with which it was sealed.

Our world has many similarities to that in which this letter was written. Uncertain times, faith under duress, temptations aplenty. The death by a thousand cuts that is compromise. The sudden squall of emotional breakdown that demands comfort at any price. These are days when our souls can feel anything but secure, when we sense our weakness and vulnerability, as we sadly conclude that we, too, are “prone to wander”.

Here is a word in season for all who know that dark foreboding: we can be “greatly encouraged”. Not simply jollied along for a while but made strong in the grace that is in our Lord Jesus Christ. The outcome is settled, the One who calls us does not lie - it is impossible for him to do so. He is the God of all truth. His loving commitment to rescue and make new, to destroy the one who held the power of death, to cleanse our consciences from acts that lead to death, that we might serve the living God - all this is immutable.

He does not change and we cannot be lost.

With such a hope before us, when all around is desolation and despair, the example of the readers of Hebrews carries great weight: they had “fled to take hold of the hope before [them]”. They ran, full pelt, to the One whose word cannot fail and whose salvation is secure. They saw their danger and didn’t wait to see if they might be able to tough it out; they went, in desperate haste, to the faithful One, the God of the double-lock.

We can make that journey ours, too.

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There is a hope that burns within my heart,

That gives me strength for every passing day;

A glimpse of glory now revealed in meagre part,

Yet drives all doubt away:

I stand in Christ, with sins forgiven;

And Christ in me, the hope of heaven!

My highest calling and my deepest joy,

To make His will my home.

There is a hope that lifts my weary head,

A consolation strong against despair,

That when the world has plunged me in its deepest pit,

I find the Saviour there!

Through present sufferings, future’s fear,

He whispers ‘courage’ in my ear.

For I am safe in everlasting arms,

And they will lead me home.

There is a hope that stands the test of time,

That lifts my eyes beyond the beckoning grave,

To see the matchless beauty of a day divine

When I behold His face!

When sufferings cease and sorrows die,

And every longing satisfied.

Then joy unspeakable will flood my soul,

For I am truly home.

(Stuart Townend & Mark Edwards Copyright © 2007 Thankyou Music)

Scepticism dispelled: the bookends of John's Gospel

Bookending John’s gospel are two accounts of scepticism being dispelled by the Lord Jesus, tucked just after the prologue and just before the epilogue. And they have significant parallels:

That would seem to fit perfectly with John's stated purpose for writing his gospel: "that you may believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that by believing may have life in his name." (20:31). And maybe they help to throw into sharp relief the frequent temporal faith seen in the gospel and offer hope that it can be overcome.

Making the most of every opportunity (Joy in the Journey 90)

Be very careful, then, how you live —not as unwise but as wise, making the most of every opportunity, because the days are evil. (Ephesians 5:15,16)

Are you ready to "make the most of every opportunity"? Is your life being lived on the cutting-edge of evangelistic enterprise? Because this verse seems to suggest that it ought to be. Every day there are opportunities galore, if only you have eyes to see them, and your duty is to grasp them with both hands. Or at least it appears to say that if you ignore the context. Which is never the wise choice.

So maybe it's more about how the older translation puts it: "redeeming the time". Nailing down every last second of the day, making sure you can offer it to Jesus in full efficiency and complete effectiveness. No ragged edges or fluffed lines, because he's not interested in anything defective. As Depeche Mode sang, "Everything counts, in large amounts".

If that is the way to understand the text you can't ever afford to get it wrong, to freewheel during a single day or take your foot even an inch off the pedal. Not once. Because you've got to redeem the time - rescue it from the waste bin and recycle it into an always-on mode of discipleship. Anything less is failing to honour your Lord.

The good news is that neither of those explanations are correct. It's not about evangelism and it isn't about productivity. Those are not authentic readings of this text. Both are important in their respective contexts (one more so than the other, perhaps), but this verse is from somewhere else.

This is set within the daily grind of living as a Christian, in the in-between time of the here-and-now before the hereafter. The days when we get up reluctantly and go to bed wearily. When we see and hear sights and sounds that grieve us deeply, even as they pressure us towards acceptance and compromise. Days when we are tempted to fall in with the fruitless deeds of darkness rather than expose them. When the easy choice is moral slumber.

Faced with the starkness of those choices - between light and darkness, between wisdom and folly - Paul is urging us to redeem the time/make the most of every opportunity of living in the light. To approach our days in light of God's character and to act from his work within us. To serve his commission to be salt and light in a crooked and perverse generation. To find out what pleases him and to rejoice in making that our aim.

Such lives will, of course, invite questions about the Lord and requests for the reasons for the hope we have. They will be lives that sanctify each day, not through productivity hacks but in holiness and love, in Spirit-given worship, with heartfelt thankfulness "to God the Father for everything, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ."

The days we're living through desperately need us to act as though our words and deeds matter. An open display that the fruit of the light consists in all goodness, righteousness and truth will be the most clarifying and compelling reality for a world whose days are framed in folly and shrouded in shame.

We are now, by his grace, "light in the Lord". Translated and transformed. Our high calling and our dearest privilege is to serve our Saviour in the freedom he has so freely given. Choosing to walk in love, owning that all our days are his, that we and they have been redeemed, liberated from the dominion of sin and grafted into the grace of life.

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

Finding (Time) - by James K.A. Smith is a worthwhile read to go with this morning's reflection.

***********

My times are in Thy hand:

My God, I wish them there;

My life, my friends, my soul I leave

Entirely to Thy care.

My times are in Thy hand,

Whatever they may be,

Pleasing or painful, dark or bright,

As best may seem to Thee.

My times are in Thy hand:

Why should I doubt or fear?

A Father's hand will never cause

His child a needless tear.

My times are in Thy hand,

Jesus, the crucified;

Those hands my cruel sins had pierced

Are now my guard and guide.

My times are in Thy hand:

I'll always trust in Thee;

And, after death, at Thy right hand

I shall for ever be.

(William Freeman Lloyd, 1791-1853)

They also serve (Joy in the Journey 89)

It’s a moving story. The great poet John Milton finally lost his sight and was then bereaved of his wife. In the trauma of that first loss, he penned the sonnet ‘On His Blindness’ in which he reflects on the parable of the talents in the light of his own circumstances. He expresses in the poem his sense of frustration and perplexity over how the Lord could allow this enforced idleness, “Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?”

Many will be able to sympathise with his feelings. In Psalm 42, the writer expresses great heaviness of heart and cries out, “Why are you downcast, oh my soul?” Life had taken a turn for the worse and part of the anxiety and the pain were the memories he had of serving God: “These things I remember, as I pour out my soul: how I used to go with the multitude, leading the procession to the house of God.” (v.4) Those times now seemed so long ago and so far away.

As we go through similar times, it’s good to recall that ultimately we are not defined by what we do. Of course, how we serve the Lord is important. Our gifts allow us to express who we are in relationship with him and our gratitude for his grace. But they don’t define us. We are not in the first instance called to serve but “called to belong to Jesus Christ” (Romans 1:6). That clearly involves service but is not limited to it. Significantly, Adam and Eve’s first full day in Eden was a Sabbath on which they rested in the Lord who had made them. They were created to belong to him and that holds true in the new creation too.

Is part of our struggle because we view service too narrowly? John Milton wrestled with his difficulties and resolved them, affirming the superior value of bearing his mild yoke and declaring, “They also serve who only stand and wait”. We, perhaps, too quickly limit what serving God means. We define it in terms of activity but Milton had grasped the profound truth that it depends not on action for its vitality but on the attitude of the heart. Serving God is fundamentally concerned with a response to his grace that recognises and rejoices in the Lordship of Christ over the whole of life.

Yes, Jesus is Lord, even over all our infirmities. The Lord who is sovereign can use us just as he will. His purposes are not thwarted when our gifts are limited through age or infirmity, nor are his plans overtaken by events beyond our control. Paul had grasped this as he languished in a Roman prison. Despite the curtailing of his ‘active service’ he was still rejoicing in the Lord’s ability to use his circumstances and even the wrong motives of others to further the cause of Christ (Phil. 1:12-18).

We may feel chained by age or circumstance but “God’s Word is not chained” (2 Tim. 2:9) and by his Spirit he can still use us to display the glorious name of Jesus, in our sufferings, through our prayers.

The God we serve called light out of darkness and made all things from nothing. Out of the ‘nothing’ of our limitations and frailties, he can fashion something lasting and good that honours his Son. It’s interesting that Milton’s greatest piece of work, Paradise Lost, was written after his blindness. And the greatest work in all history was declared ‘Finished!’ when all seemed lost and the Suffering Servant forsaken by God. His ways are much higher than ours.

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

When I consider how my light is spent

Ere half my days in this dark world and wide,

And that one talent which is death to hide

Lodg'd with me useless, though my soul more bent

To serve therewith my Maker, and present

My true account, lest he returning chide,

"Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?"

I fondly ask. But Patience, to prevent

That murmur, soon replies: "God doth not need

Either man's work or his own gifts: who best

Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His state

Is kingly; thousands at his bidding speed

And post o'er land and ocean without rest:

They also serve who only stand and wait."

(John Milton, 1608-74)

The waiting that brings things nearer (Joy in the Journey 88)

These are days of waiting and longing. For things to change for the better. For the return of some semblance of what passed for normal life before the pandemic. Waiting is not simply toughing it out; at times it can be so hard not to be forlorn, your heart a compilation of anxiety and misgivings, layered in swathes of unease.

Is there an end in sight? Perhaps. But we know there is danger in being too optimistic and so we hedge our bets, trying to play the long game a little while longer.

In his second and final letter to scattered Christians and churches, the apostle Peter is writing to make sure they will be able to remember, after his death, the very great and precious promises they have been given through the glory and goodness of the Lord Jesus Christ. In an unstable and hazardous world, they can know a genuine security in their Saviour.

Essential to their endurance is "looking forward to the day of God" (3:12). There is, genuinely, an end in sight. It cannot be timetabled but it is certain. A day when all that is broken will be restored, when the new heavens and earth will be unveiled in stunning beauty and righteousness. Everything will be laid bare in a judgement that brings final healing.

Along with Peter's first readers we are waiting for that day. A waiting that is often experienced as longing with the heaviest of hearts. A waiting that can also be an on-tiptoes eagerness, having seen and tasted now something of the beauty and wonder of the God who is good. A waiting that is sustained in hope by the Spirit of Jesus. Waiting for the one "whom having not seen, [we] love."

Often, waiting in this life means hanging on, passive and inactive, until you get the golden ticket through the post. This is different. Peter's encouragement is to live holy and godly lives as we long for that day - patient but not passive, living now in the light of what will be then. Embracing and embodying a truly living hope. Words, deeds, motives and desires being re-shaped into God-likeness, suffused with a joy that is both latent and patent.

And Peter augments the portrait he is sketching, adding in a final flourish that waiting for the day of God "speeds its coming". It hastens it, brings it nearer. It cannot make it more certain - that is guaranteed and sealed by the promise of the God who cannot lie - but it can somehow, mysteriously, bring it nearer.

Does he mean nearer in our perception but not in actuality? We know that longing often has the opposite effect - the holiday we're desperate for still seems an age away! No, however hard it is to rationalise what Peter is saying, his meaning is clear: our longing, birthed by the Spirit, is taken-up into the sovereign plans of God. Our eager, sometimes desperate desire to see Jesus, to see his world restored and all sin and evil removed, is not in vain and isn't beside the point. He has chosen to make it part of the resolution.

Into the dreariness and struggles of life comes a call to keep looking ahead, to keep pressing onward and upward, to not throw away the confidence that will be richly rewarded (Heb. 10:35). The time is coming when we see the King in all his beauty, the veil of time having been rent and our eyes opened to unbleached glory.

***********

Come, Lord, and tarry not;

Bring the long-looked-for day;

O why these years of waiting here,

These ages of delay?

Come, for Thy saints still wait;

Daily ascends their sigh;

The Spirit and the bride say, Come;

Wilt Thou not hear the cry?

Come in Thy glorious might,

Come with the iron rod;

Scattering Thy foes before Thy face,

Most mighty Son of god.

Come, and make all things new;

Build up this ruined earth;

Restore our faded paradise,

Creation's second birth.

Come, and begin Thy reign

Of everlasting peace;

Come, take the kingdom to Thyself,

Great King of Righteousness!

(Horatius Bonar, 1808-89)

The One Who Lifts Your Head

Do you have days when you feel that you’re facing overwhelming odds? You have torrents of troubles and sorrows that sheet down like rain. There are people who choose to be at odds with you, who seemingly want to negate your life. Legitimate opportunities are closed off and your contribution is annulled and labelled worthless?

As Psalm 3 opens, David is expressing his own version of that kind of experience. The problems and the problem people are many. It’s unrelenting. They just never give up.

And from there he speaks words that are ours to take hold of with the hungriest of hearts:

    But you, O LORD, are a shield around me,
    My glory, the One who lifts my head high.
    I call out to the LORD,
    And he answers me from his holy mountain.

The living God, the eternal One, is David’s protector, his shield, his defender and provider. His refuge against the onslaught. There are no gaps in his defences, no weak links in the chain of his loving commitment. His guardian care is invincible.

Those who stand against David hold him in derision and scorn. They pour shame like water upon his head, they trash his reputation with fierce falsehoods. This is his downfall, the end of his career, the termination of his tenure. He’s at their mercy and they will show him none.

But David’s head is lifted high, in honour. He belongs to the Holy One and is vindicated by him. He is David’s glory - the One who stands up for him, who is unashamed to be fully aligned with him. The One who shares his own status with David, gives him his name and covers him with his own royal robes.

Our Lord Jesus willingly aligns himself with us, declares that we are his and defends us as his own beloved people. He will not allow us to suffer final shame.

And the raising of our heads that takes away all our disgrace and dishonour, that lifts us into living hope, is the action of the One who bowed his head and gave up his spirit, under the enormous load of sin’s desolation upon the cross. The one whose sacrifice saves us from all the bitter fruit of our fallenness and cleanses the squalid, fetid ground of our hearts.

David calls to the LORD and is answered from his holy hill - from the temple itself, the very centre of God’s presence on earth. This is no incidental assistance. But another ‘holy mountain’ would in time draw our eyes and fill our hearts with astonishment, the hill just outside the city walls where our Lord Jesus offered himself for us. From that hill comes the Lord’s answer: “It is finished.” From there he speaks words of full forgiveness, words that promise paradise.

Within the torrential downpour of all life's struggles, we are held and honoured, because the King of Glory is our shield, our Saviour.

So that we don't cause offence (Joy in the Journey 87)

There’s a strange little scene at the end of Matthew 17, all about paying taxes for building the temple and finding coins in the mouths of fish. Bizarre, really. And yet it’s not.

Peter is asked whether Jesus pays the temple tax. Interesting question, because rabbis and priests were exempt. Well, Jesus does pay it - Peter knows that. He isn’t in the exempted categories, even though Peter might have expected him to be (after all, he’s just recently acknowledged Jesus to be the Messiah).

It clearly puzzles Peter because the Lord raises the question with him. He asks him who it is that pays taxes in a country, the children of the king or others? The answer, as Peter well knows, is ‘the others’. So, says Jesus, the king’s children are excluded. The burden doesn’t fall on them. So far, so straightforward.

But here’s Jesus’ point: if the children are exempt then he, of all people, has no need to pay the temple tax. And neither, it seems, does Peter - for all who follow Jesus as Messiah become themselves children of the heavenly King whose temple it is. So why does Jesus pay it - and why will he pay it on Peter’s behalf too?

“So that we may not cause offence.”

The reason for the Son of God coming into the world is to rescue, not to repulse. He hasn’t come to gloat and parade his position or rest on his rights. He has come to serve, in the deepest humility and meekness. Such service doesn’t negate his identity, it flows from it.

And the same is to be true for all who are children of God through being united by faith to the Son. The gospel may well give offence but that alone must do so. Our attitudes and actions must not.

This is underscored in the very next scene (it’s often best to ignore chapter breaks) where the Lord Jesus states that “whoever takes the lowly position of [a] child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.” Central to life as a child of God in this present world is a genuine humility that doesn’t look to exploit its position, nor angle for personal power or make a case for exceptional treatment.

Christian identity is manifested through love. The true posture for all who follow and serve Jesus is one of lowly service, in all gladness. Within society, in our neighbourhoods and workplaces, in school or college. Being willing to go the extra mile, to serve without expectation or desire for reward. To do so without ulterior motivates.

The fear of losing out that naturally snipes at our hearts is dispelled by the generosity of our Lord Jesus Christ: he will provide for all our needs. Peter is to go out and find in the mouth of a fish an amount that will cover both Jesus’ and his tax bills. In the Lord we have all could desire and all that is necessary to sustain our service and to cultivate a contentment that will be evident in all our words and deeds.

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

My heart is resting, O my God,

I will give thanks and sing;

My heart is at the secret source

Of every precious thing.

Now the frail vessel Thou hast made

No hand but Thine shall fill;

The waters of the earth have failed,

And I am thirsty still.

I thirst for springs of heavenly life,

And here all day they rise;

I seek the treasure of Thy love,

And close at hand it lies;

And a 'new song' is in my mouth

To long-loved music set:

Glory to Thee for all the grace

I have not tasted yet!

Glory to Thee for strength withheld,

For want and weakness known,

The fear that sends me to Thy breast

For what is most my own.

I have a heritage of joy

That yet I must not see;

The hand that bled to make it mine

Is keeping it for me.

My heart is resting, O my God,

My heart is in Thy care;

I hear the voice of joy and health

Resounding everywhere.

"Thou art my portion", saith my soul,

Ten thousand voices say;

The music of their glad Amen

Will never die away.

(Anna Laetitia Waring, 1823-1910)

The words that hold your dearest treasure (Joy in the Journey 86)

With his trademark wry humour and punchy insight, Steve Turner wrote a poem about short poems:

Short poems

are fun.

You can see at a glance

whether you

like them

or not.

Psalm 117 comes and goes so quickly. It’s definitely in the category of ‘short poem’. It’s so easy to pass it by, to accept what it says and to hurry on to the larger pastures of Ps.118 and then on into the sprawling continent that is Ps.119.

But this psalm says, in compressed form, everything we need to know, everything that the rest of scripture opens up to us. You can tell at a glance that it holds your dearest treasure:

    Praise the LORD, all you nations;

    extol him, all you peoples.

    For great is his love toward us,

    and the faithfulness of the LORD endures forever.

    Praise the LORD.

It insists, demands, that all nations are called to praise the LORD - that the whole story of the Bible is expansive and not exclusive. That embedded within the story of Israel is a larger story that will, in time, burst its banks and life will overflow to the nations.

This is a song of the most extensive hope and joy. For all peoples. A light has dawned over the whole earth - the sun of righteousness has risen with healing in his wings.

And at the heart of that story - its beating pulse and its pulsating power - is the great love of God. Love that is for us, towards us, tilting the whole life of God in our direction. Love that enters the fray and frees the captives. Layering divine love into all the crevices of the heart and every moment of our lives. Love that will heal the nations. Love that finds its fullest revelation on a hill just outside Jerusalem, “where the dearest and best for a world of lost sinners was slain.”

That love was enacted in the truest and most tenacious faithfulness - a commitment to embrace and save, to heal and restore. A pledge that endures for ever. Time and chance and all the malevolence of evil could not dampen the integrity and intent of God to enter time and space - the Son of God becoming the Son of Man, that the sons of men might become the children of God (as someone so helpfully put it).

With a few deft words, the psalm lays before us the whole sweep of human history and unveils the central reality of God and his ways. It needs no explanation (so please pardon these words); its beauty is plain for all to see and offered for all to savour.

Which is what we ought to do with it. Lay it before our sight and enter its lines, in wonder and worship. This is our God, this is his world, these are his ways. And we are his, forever his.

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

Timeless love! We sing the story,
praise his wonders, tell his worth;
love more fair than heaven's glory,
love more firm than ancient earth!
    Tell his faithfulness abroad:
    who is like him? Praise the Lord!

By his faithfulness surrounded,
North and South his hand proclaim;
earth and heaven formed and founded,
skies and seas, declare his Name!
    Wind and storm obey his word:
    who is like him? Praise the Lord!

Truth and righteousness enthrone him,
just and equal are his ways;
more than happy, those who own him,
more than joy, their songs of praise!
    Sun and Shield and great Reward:
    who is like him? Praise the Lord!

(Timothy Dudley-Smith, 1926-)

Be on your guard (Joy in the Journey 85)

It's disconcerting to find you just haven't got hold of something. You thought you'd made all the right connections and understood what was being said or done, but it's become clear your brain was misfiring. The truth has been pointed out and you now see just how far off you were.

That's how it must have been for the disciples when the Lord Jesus warned them "against the yeast of the Pharisees and Sadducees" (Mt. 16:6). They made a verbal connection with their having forgotten to bring along bread for the journey - and in doing so showed just how little they really 'got' what he'd said. On this occasion, their two plus two didn't make four. Far from it.

What they showed was just how naïve they were - and how much they therefore needed Jesus' warning. They were deeply susceptible to the insidious effect of unbelief, of the corruption of their best intentions and hopes by calloused cynicism.

In treating the Pharisees and Sadducees as one group, our Lord underscores the danger he detects. They believed different things and were frequently at odds with each other - but both were united in opposing Jesus as the Son of God, the Messiah. The disciples, alas, simply hadn't begun to discern the unholy alliance that faced them, nor its capacity to deceive and lead astray. They frequently judged by shallow appearances which proved to be far from accurate.

We live in similarly disturbing times. No less than the disciples do we need to hear our Lord's words: "Be careful...be on your guard." We, too, are vulnerable and susceptible to the spirit of the age. Any denial of that is an immediate breaching of our defences.

Where does genuine insight come from? We're shown in Peter's experience. When asked about the identity of the Son of Man, he speaks with conviction: "You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God." How had he worked that out? What special ability did he possess? Well, he didn't. The insight came from above: "this was not revealed to you by flesh and blood, but by my Father in heaven."

If we see Jesus more clearly and have begun to cherish him, it has been gifted to us. Humility and gratitude are always the order of the day.

But once given it has to be fiercely guarded - and Peter falls at the first hurdle. He is offended that Jesus declares his pathway to glory lay via the cross. But his thoughts and feelings are now from below: "you do not have in mind the concerns of God but merely human concerns." In opposing Jesus he was playing the part of Satan, tempting our Lord away from his mission. Ouch.

We always need the Lord to illuminate our understanding. It is sheer folly to rely on our abilities or to hold lightly to the truth that has been so graciously given to us. The challenge will often come at the point that is most painful and disconcerting to us, at the heart of the gospel call to follow Jesus as Lord, come what may. We need to be ready for that.

Never have we more needed to heed the words of Jesus: "Watch and pray that you do not fall into temptation". And to rest our all upon his promise, "None shall snatch them from my hand."

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

Christian, seek not yet repose;

    Cast thy dreams of ease away;

Thou art in the midst of foes:

    Watch and pray.

Principalities and powers,

    Mustering their unseen array,

Wait for thy unguarded hours:

    Watch and pray.

Gird thy heavenly armour on;

    Wear it ever, night and day;

Ambushed lies the evil one:

    Watch and pray.

Hear the victors who o'ercame;

    Still they mark each warrior's way;

All with one sweet voice exclaim,

    'Watch and pray.'

Hear, above all, hear thy Lord,

    Him thou lovest to obey;

Hide within thy heart His word:

    'Watch and pray.'

Watch, as if on that alone

    Hung the issue of the day;

Pray, that help may be sent down:

    Watch and pray.

(Charlotte Elliott, 1789-1871)

He ever lives to intercede for us (Joy in the Journey 84)

As we pray, we hope to do so regularly and consistently. That is our aim and our desire. But, for many reasons, we struggle. It might be a matter of health, when our physical weakness robs our spirit of the energy to raise itself in adoration and petition. There are times when those with young children have such broken nights that whole days pass by in a haze of weariness. Often we are blindsided by the torrent of activity we're plunged into.

And then there are the darkest of times, when we feel ourselves marooned and isolated to such an extent that we feel incapable of uttering any words at all.

Sometimes it's best to just accept that this is how things are, for now. Better times may soon come. We trust in God's kindness they will.

Yet, in all the struggle, we can know that even the slightest connection to Jesus is sufficient for us to know his powerful grace. The woman in Mark 5 whose life and vitality were ebbing away knew that the mere touch of his garment would bring her the relief she longed for. The multitude who crowded around our Lord at the close of Matthew 14 knew the same.

Because the power of grace and compassion are entirely in our Lord Jesus and not in us. It isn't the fluidity and coherence of our prayers, nor the clear expression of our longings that makes the difference. It is Jesus.

And not only can we take encouragement from that but Hebrews 7:25 assures us that, in all our inconsistency and variability, our Lord Jesus prays continually for us: "He is able to save completely those who come to God through him, because he always lives to intercede for them."

Jesus lives, forever, and Jesus prays, constantly, for us. Nothing hinders him. He is no part-time Saviour. He isn't having to fight a rear-guard action against resurgent evil such that he has no spare capacity for us in all our need.

By the power of his indestructible life, he stands and prays for us. With full wisdom and insight. With an empathy that reaches depths no other can plumb. With a willingness and ability to help that can scale every height.

As we lament our weakness in prayer, the fact remains that we are loved and held by the Saviour who saves to the uttermost. No latent inability in our souls and no blatant attempt to snatch us from our Lord will alter the outcome. There ever shall be mercy and grace to help us in our time of need.

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

I hear the words of love,

I gaze upon the blood,

I see the mighty sacrifice,

And I have peace with God.

’Tis everlasting peace!

Sure as Jehovah’s name;

’Tis stable as His steadfast throne,

For evermore the same.

The clouds may come and go,

And storms may sweep my sky;

This blood-sealed friendship changes not

The cross is ever nigh.

My love is oft-times low,

My joy still ebbs and flows;

But peace with Him remains the same-

No change Jehovah knows.

That which can shake the cross

May shake the peace it gave,

Which tells me Christ has never died ,

Or never left the grave!

Till then my peace is sure,

It will not, cannot yield,

Jesus, I know, has died and lives,

On this firm rock I build.

I change, He changes not;

The Christ can never die;

His love, not mine, the resting-place,

His truth, not mine, the tie.

The cross still stands unchanged,

Though heaven is now His home,

The mighty stone is rolled away,

But yonder is His tomb!

And yonder is my peace,

The grave of all my woes!

I know the Son of God has come,

I know He died and rose .

I know He liveth now,

At God's right hand above,

I know the throne on which He sits,

I know His truth and love!

(Horatius Bonar, 1808-89)

"I knew that you are a hard man." (Joy in the Journey 83)

It's one of the saddest things that could ever be said to the Lord: "I knew that you are a hard man..." (Mt. 25:24) It's not something any Christian would see themselves saying in the cold light of day, yet it is a suspicion that can be harboured in the shadows of our hearts, however much we might rush to deny it.

Of course we gladly honour the grace that has saved us, forgiven our sin and made us his children. For all that we are deeply thankful. And yet, at the level of day to day life, the suspicion lingers and festers: he expects; he exacts. He makes impossible demands. He holds our every thought and word and deed up to the light and, on seeing every imperfection and blemish, his face clouds with bitter disappointment.

And so the Christian life is lived in distorted fear. As the nameless man in the parable admits, "I was afraid." This is not the fear of the Lord that is pure and endures for ever (Ps. 19:9), the fear that is an overwhelmed amazement at the love of God. This is fear that hides from his face, believing it to be thunderous and darkened with displeasure. This is fear that is fed by unrelieved shame.

How did we get ourselves into such a state?

Possibly through teaching that was not sufficiently true to the character of God revealed in the Bible. Perhaps by what we saw (unwittingly) modelled by others, in their own fearful discipleship and possibly in how they then treated us. It could be we've settled for a skewed portrait and haven't pursued our questions with a believing vigour, assuming the answers will only confirm our wretched suspicions.

However it came to be, there is another road to take. In Matthew 11 the Lord Jesus invites us to come to him and rest. That rest for our souls is intimately connected to the fact that "No one knows the Father except the Son and those the Son chooses to reveal him to" (11:27). The gentleness and humility of heart that all who come to Jesus discover is a revelation of the character of the Father. He is supremely generous and compassionate and merciful.

That reflection of the Father in his Son is immediately seen in Matthew 12. Our Lord Jesus defends his disciples in a sabbath controversy with the Pharisees and proceeds to give complete restoration to a man whose hand was shrivelled. The sabbath was for rest and blessing, fulfilled in faith in Christ. Nothing could be more appropriate than to heal on it and bring joy and relief.

The Pharisees' approach to the law led to enslavement and a mis-characterisation of the living God. Our Lord Jesus makes plain that the fulfilment of Law and Temple is found in him and in the complete transformation and healing he alone can bring, as the Son who reveals the Father.

We can lay our false fears to rest, in the solvent of divine love that has power to dissolve all anxieties and misgivings. He is not, in any sense, a hard man. Let's not hide in the shadows, suspicious of our Father, for, truly, "the heart of the eternal is most wonderfully kind." 

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Sing praise to God who reigns above,

The God of all creation,

The God of wonders, power and love,

The God of our salvation.

With healing balm my soul He fills,

The God who every sorrow stills -

To God all praise and glory!

What God's almighty power hath made

His gracious mercy keepeth;

By morning dawn or evening shade

His watchful eye ne'er sleepeth;

Within the kingdom of His might,

Lo, all is just and all is right - 

To God all praise and glory!

I cried to Him, in time of need:

Lord God, O hear my calling!

For death He gave me life indeed

And kept my feet from falling.

For this my thanks shall endless be;

O thank Him, thank our God with me -

To God all praise and glory!

The Lord forsaketh not His flock,

His chosen generation;

He is their Refuge and their Rock,

Their Peace and their Salvation.

As with a mother's tender hand

He leads His own, His chosen band -

To God all praise and glory!

Then come before His presence now

And banish fear and sadness;

To your Redeemer pay your vow

And sing with joy and gladness:

Though great distress my soul befell,

The Lord, my God, did all things well -

To God all praise and glory!

(Johann Jakob Schutz, 1640-90

tr. by Frances Elizabeth Cox, 1812-97)

Like sheep without a shepherd (Joy in the Journey 82)

"Jesus went through all the towns and villages, teaching in their synagogues, proclaiming the good news of the kingdom and healing every disease and sickness. When he saw the crowds, he had compassion on them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd. Then he said to his disciples, “The harvest is plentiful but the workers are few. Ask the Lord of the harvest, therefore, to send out workers into his harvest field.” (Matthew 9:35-38)

Harassed and helpless: doesn't that so neatly and so completely summarise how many people are feeling right now? Maybe you'd put your tick next to that box to describe your own state of mind and body. Life is pressing in on you, from all angles. From outside and from within. The expectations you can't meet. The mistakes you can't put right, the words you can't take back. The gnawing agony of shame that says you're too weak to cope.

It seems like there's so very little that can be done to prevent the walls from closing in, slowly and inexorably. We can maybe keep some things at arms' length, for a while. Perhaps. If everything goes our way. But perhaps not. It feels like we're going to suffocate, to drown in the flood of troubles or be swept away in the manic, ragged race to keep life together.

Matthew's words have the most wonderful encouragement for the harassed and helpless. For us. He tells us that our Lord Jesus, on seeing the people in such need, didn't tut tut their decisions or their tactics for navigating through the choppy seas of life. He didn't despise them for being unable to cope or despair over their inability to come up with a plan to get themselves out of the mess. He had compassion on them. He felt for them deeply and truly. His heart went out to them. He was moved in the depths of his being with genuine care and concern.

And that compassion was not simply on account of the symptoms they were experiencing - the sickness and disease, the poverty and the political oppression, the struggle to make something of themselves, the tensions within the family. All were seen by him and moved him deeply. But he also saw the larger reality: they were like sheep without a shepherd. They had no one to properly care for them, to protect and feed them, to lead them to quiet waters and pasture them in green meadows. No one who loved them and was willing to take full responsibility for them. No one to walk with them through the dark, dark valleys of life (and death).

And so he came, to be the shepherd of the sheep. To be the one whose love and grace are such that he would bear all things for them, to rescue and restore, even to the laying down of his life. To be the shepherd who knows his sheep, personally and intimately. Who calls them by name and whose voice is unmistakable and whose lips have been anointed with grace.

This is our Lord, our Saviour. We belong to him - and not for the years of time alone. What gladness that, through all changing scenes of life, we are his.

Notice that our Lord's words in that paragraph also lay out a part for us to play, in seeing the desperation that's all around us: pray the Lord of the harvest to send out workers into his harvest field. It belongs to him, he has brought it to the point of readiness to reap, but additional labourers are needed. As we respond to the Lord's word, we're praying for more people to be called and set apart for gospel work.

But we can also, haltingly but humbly, ask him to please use us, weak and frail as we are, to be a blessing to others. Not because we have all the answers to their many questions or the supplies for all their needs - but, simply, because our own hearts have been touched by the compassion of the Good Shepherd; as he leads us to "come in and go out and find pasture," our hearts' longing is for all the harassed and helpless around us to hear his shepherd's call.

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O! tell me, Thou life and delight of my soul,

Where the flock of Thy pastures are feeding;

I seek Thy protection, I need Thy control,

I would go where my Shepherd is leading.

O! tell me the place where Thy flocks are at rest,

Where the noontide will find them reposing?

The tempest now rages, my soul is distress'd,

And the pathway of peace I am losing.

O! why should I stray with the flocks of Thy foes,

'Mid the desert where now they are roving,

Where hunger and thirst, where affliction and woes,

And temptations their ruin are proving!

O! when shall my woes and my wandering cease?

And the follies that fill me with weeping!

Thou Shepherd of Israel, restore me that peace

Thou dost give to the flock Thou art keeping.

A voice from the Shepherd now bids thee return

By the way where the footprints are lying:

No longer to wander, no longer to mourn;

O fair one, now homeward be flying!

(Thomas Hastings, 1784-1872)