A Well Lived Life
When the sun turned down for the day and golden light peaked through the edges of my living room blinds throwing glistening shadows onto dim walls, my eyes assumed the same golden gleam with thoughts of recent hours. The sun grew over walls and furniture—and all the swells of the day—for the hour or so of light’s gold: the dining room table where a candle earlier sped and smoked, the distant corner of the kitchen where orange slices were held and bites were taken alongside grins and chats, and the stairs that withheld against pounded motions of every happening, whether languid and clomping or running late with clipping.
My lips met spiced tea and my mind swelled over those waves of the day, freeing the memories that active minutes compress—enumerating the menagerie of surges and stages. Finally, the thought came as the sun yielded to the downward pull and the last spark was gone before night’s scroll was unrolled—Was this one well lived?
The last light fell, and I had all appreciation for that unique sunset slice of the day—it was like the lightning that flares when a person of mystery speaks revealingly and the rarity only adds to gratitude and wonder, leaving a trace of want for when it will happen again. So, a sunset does not grace the every minute, and with the last light, today’s provoked, Can you be content to mirror many other days after today’s strains?
Now, if one can enter near, a late octo- or nonagenarian might musingly review not a day of life for Christ, but a life. The gray hair of the godly, that crown of splendor and honor (Prov. 16:13), affords its own glow for watching eyes—perhaps the brightest and fiercest sparks of belief and holy desire. Chair close, one hears of minds that have worked and worked, and of hearts’ resolve, and eternity’s splendor in sight from earliest days. One might hear of children and family, and friendships and ministry while witnessing the effects of prayer’s secret dependency. One will certainly hear of Christ, as the godly gray are naturally nearest, anticipatorily, to see His face in all of glory’s bright.
In these, my elders, I’ve seen steps of resolve, commitment to the path that is straight. Steps that haven’t veered back and away or circled, as with a loose, stray connection—but have traveled steadily, with a resolve that started from the dedication of earliest teenage days (Ecclesiastes 12:1). I’ve heard of consistency in studying, of adeptness with mastering one day’s portion of Scripture at a time to accumulate wealth, a considerable responsibility—without having been shirked or shunned, but received as weighty and worthy duty (Prov. 1:7, 2:2; 2 Tim. 2:15). I’ve noticed the freedom and joy, and sole honor for Christ, in the gray-haired whose finances have long reflected the weight of eternity and Scripture’s guiding hand, for whom money has not directed decisions of value, for the path to heaven is highest (Matt. 6:19, 23).
Pure sparks have graced my sight of love for family, care for husbands and wives while in view of a marriage-honoring God (Heb. 13:4), and for the ministry that began in one’s home—how instruction and love of children has not been seen as secondary but as prized with piles of devoted time (Deut. 6:5-9). With the family of God, I’ve seen the peace of relationships that are deemed successes if giving has been sacrificial—where mutuality has been warmly welcomed, but personal fulfillment has not been given the status of being the aim or goal (Phil. 2:3). I have beheld how the deposit of truth has been regarded—the fountain for unity (2 Tim. 1:14; Rom. 16:17-20) and how speaking its core message of the King has served as compassion for those in the dark (Rom. 10:14).
Gazed fixed, I have gleaned themes of wisdom, that when tutors have been sought for the school of saintly life, selectivity and standards have been welcomed by all. For good mentors have been careful to bow and exegete well the holy Word—pointing to those who have been advanced in maturity and dedication—with thoughtfulness to approve by Scripture every influence, faithfully, no matter the cost (1 Cor. 11:1; Phil. 1:9-10). Now, when I hunt for their lives of prayer, I scarcely collect in my sight all that’s certainly there—for they are faithful to the Lord’s instruction, to maintain reverent secrecy (Matt. 6:5-6). Yet, in their lives’ humility and given trust, evidence abounds of those who have long ago settled that they can do nothing, would never want to do anything, apart from Him (John 15:5; Phil. 4:11-13).
I’ve traced my hand over a life’s day to follow the sparkling-sun-movement, a sun still graciously lasting by God’s hand to have come this evening after visiting lives of all ages. And as golden hours will double and triple and more in my experience, Lord willing, tomorrow and the next day again, I will have less and less propensity for youthful doubtfulness in the truth that my days are short—just as He has said (Jas. 4:14). My home will travel through sunset again; while I sip that tea and steep in the swells, the lightning spark of want noted in my day-end light—my question—is now seated in Scripture’s witness to imitate those whose whole lives have already been well lived for Him (Heb. 13:7; 2 Thess. 3:9; 1 Cor. 4:16).
This post was originally published at For The Church.
Early Martyrs’ Witness to Christ’s Worth
In early years of Christianity, many withstood the tests of torturous persecution and martyrdom to the glory of the One whose Name they bore: “Yet, if anyone suffers as a Christian, let him not be ashamed, but let him glorify God in that name” (1 Peter. 4:16). As I have been learning of the history surrounding these men and women who loved Christ more than life on this earth and reflect upon their voices that echo through the centuries, I am led to honor Christ for His suffering, power, and worth.
Martyrdom as Reality
In classical Christian times (roughly 100 to 600 A.D.), persecution varied according to who was in power of the Roman empire at the time—each emperor having the power to create his own policies and climate for Christians. In summary of what I have been learning, here is an anecdotal sketch from these years when martyrdom was a reality for many:
Nero, who came into power in 54 was a persecutor of Christians, especially in his nearby vicinity. After receiving blame for a widespread fire, he diverted public attention by blaming the Christians.
Under Domitian existed scattered persecution across the empire for those who participated in “Jewish practices” [in early years, differentiations between Judaism and Christianity were unclear to authorities].
Emperor Trajan set the policy that, essentially, Christians ought not be sought out with state money, but also ought not be pardoned if accused before imperial authorities.
In 161, Marcus Aurelius became emperor and saw fit to persecute the Christians more pointedly—believing them to blame for growing challenges, like natural and military disasters.
Septimius Severus issued a syncretistic edict in 202 intended for the unification of the empire; worship of various gods was permitted as long as Sol Invictuswas given superior status.
Decius, in 250, instated an empire-wide edict that governors and magistrates enforce sacrifice to Roman gods and to the emperor, resulting in amplified persecution of Christians who refused.
Under Diocletian, who became emperor in 303, another edict was formed. This time, all Christian sites of worship, Christian writings, and Christian acts of worship were illegal, prompting a severe period of hostility.
The emperor Galerius—who began his influence in Christian persecution—ultimately deemed these edicts and acts futile due to Christian steadfastness. Year 311 saw a cessation of persecution, leading soon to vastly altered times under Constantine’s leadership.[1]
Martyrdom as Honor
Amidst these adverse times, the church regarded martyrdom as an honor. They wrote of Peter having “born his testimony” in martyrdom and of Paul, who “won the noble renown which was the reward of his faith”[2] in his.
Bishop of the church at Antioch, Ignatius, was sentenced to death in 107. He was sent to Rome for trial, and on the way—in one of seven letters—he wrote to the church at Rome,
Only pray that I may have power within and without, so that I may not only say it but also desire it [martyrdom]; that I may not only be called a Christian, but also be found one […] Yet if I shall suffer, then am I a freed-man of Jesus Christ, and I shall rise free in Him […] The farthest bounds of the universe shall profit me nothing, neither the kingdoms of this world. It is good for me to die for Jesus rather than to reign over the farthest bounds of the earth. Him I seek, who died on our behalf; Him I desire, who rose again [for our sake].”[3]
Early Christians wrote of the martyrs of their own times,
For who could fail to admire their nobleness and patient endurance and loyalty to the Master? seeing that when they were so torn by lashes that the mechanism of their flesh was visible even as far as the inward veins and arteries, they endured patiently, so that the very bystanders had pity and wept.[4]
One young believer, Germanicus, was advised to deny Christ when facing death to preserve his youth. But he only indicated to authorities his desire to even more quickly “obtain a release from their unrighteous and lawless life.”[5]
Bishop Polycarp of the church at Smyrna was also asked to recant multiple times. Once he replied in faithfulness: “Fourscore and six years have I been His servant, and He hath done me no wrong. How then can I blaspheme my King who saved me?” And another time he replied with eternal truth: “Thou threatenest that fire which burneth for a season and after a little while is quenched: for thou art ignorant of the fire of the future judgment and eternal punishment, which is reserved for the ungodly.”[6] The saints at the time wanted to emulate his example, “seeing that it was after the patter of the Gospel of Christ.”[7]
Martyrdom for Christ’s Glory
When reading these martyrs’ accounts, I think of the temptation to become man-focused. No doubt, these believers’ willingness to die in faithfulness to the Lord is an example to me. At the same time, according to 1 Peter 4:12-14, the glory resting over these faithful men and women belongs to God:
“But rejoice insofar as you share Christ’s sufferings, that you may also rejoice and be glad when his glory is revealed. If you are insulted for the name of Christ, you are blessed, because the Spirit of glory and of God rests upon you.”
With that in mind, one record has particularly stayed with me because of how it held me back from a man-exalting perspective on martyrdom—the Apostle Peter’s:
…after being scourged, he [the Apostle Peter] was crucified with his head downwards. It is related that he himself chose this painful posture because he did not think he was worthy to suffer in the same manner as the Lord.[8]
Peter didn’t consider that he ought to experience his martyrdom in the same form as Christ—his humility and love for the Lord Himself is evident in his request. His eyes were on Christ, with honor, thinking of how awfully the Lord had it and not wanting to remotely resemble the crucifixion.
In light of the example of many persecuted believers who knew their Lord was worth their lives and thinking of the Apostle Peter who did not consider himself worthy of his martyrdom in view of Christ—taking a step back, I am presently processing what in my life is properly called suffering. I don’t suffer nearly as I think I do. While martyrs expected the slaying fires of this earth to be cold to them,[9] I recently prayed that I might—please, please—never grow cold to God. I have also been asking for far too little.
Finally, I take tremendous comfort in the Lord’s sacrifice for me, possible because He walked this earth as the God-Man—fully able to relate to my circumstances. At the same time, Peter’s love for the Person Jesus Christ exemplifies that my difficulties are still not reason for me to relativize the cross to my experience—but to all the more live in view of the Lord Himself who hung on the cross and bore the wrath of God.
I am fully God’s through the cross—such is the complete grace of Christ to receive. Yet, I am unworthy to be His, who motivated the faithfulness of His servants to earthly death. I worship, “Lord, you are the worthy, yours is the power, and yours was the suffering.”
[1]Sources consulted: Alister E. McGrath, Historical Theology: An Introduction to the History of Christian Thought (Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell, 2013), and Justo L. Gonzalez, The Story of Christianity: Volume 1: The Early Church to the Dawn of the Reformation(New York: HarperCollins, 2010).
[2]“The First Epistle of Clement to the Corinthians,” Christian Classics Ethereal Library, accessed August 15, 2017, https://www.ccel.org/ccel/lightfoot/fathers.ii.i.html.
[3]“The Epistle of Ignatius to the Romans,” Christian Classics Ethereal Library, accessed August 15, 2017, https://www.ccel.org/ccel/lightfoot/fathers.ii.vi.html.
[4]“The Martyrdom of Polycarp,” Christian Classics Ethereal Library, accessed August 15, 2017, https://www.ccel.org/ccel/lightfoot/fathers.ii.xi.html.
[5]Ibid.
[6]Ibid.
[7]Ibid.
[8]John Foxe, Foxe’s Christian Martyrs of the World(Philadelphia: Charles Foster Publishing Co.), 33.
[9]“[The persecuted] found the fire of their inhuman torturers cold: for they set before their eyes the escape from the eternal fire which is never quenched; while with the eyes of their heart they gazed upon the good things which are reserved for those that endure patiently, things which neither ear hath heard nor eye hath seen, neither have they entered into the heart of man, but were shown by the Lord to them.” See “The Martyrdom of Polycarp.”
This post was originally published at God Centered Life.
The Honor of Biblical Submission
The God like us—stunning. Descending from majesty. Grappling with the confines of flesh, with skin and hands. Hearing others’ voices through two ears and having blood pump through a heart roughly the same size as mine. He knew the onslaught of grief, with all looming darkness, at Gethsemane. And he endured punishment for sin after sin—the number seems endless from my perspective, though he must have known each one. He was seen, known, heard, and touched.
I have come to know him through his being the Lamb; so the nearness of God inhabits an exclusive warmth of truth within me. I can find myself stunned that God came, and he came to be flesh. He came to be obedient flesh. He came submitting at Calvary, being subject in the garden.
Women Seeking Nobility
Any one Sunday morning, I’m greeted outside by a fellow human whose sins were paid for at the cross. Opening the door to foyer and sanctuary, I see many more of the same men and women—and there is no Greek or Jew, male or female (Galatians 3:28). Yet, as a woman, I also walk through that door differently from men, and with a distinct privilege in how I show honor to others and the Lord.
I walk amidst sanctuary, nursery, foyer, Sunday school classrooms with a role that runs parallel to Christ’s in a specific way. We can be Scripturally assured that any man might nobly aspire to be an elder (1 Timothy 3:1-2). Yet, church eldership and church-derived authority over men are not noble aspirations for a woman (2:12).
Where does this leave women? I have not yet found myself disproven in the thought that practical advice not fully grounded in biblical theology will, at best, be one-sided and incomplete. How well-meaning the advice—“Women, when you think about submission in the church, think about all you can do, like women’s ministry, children’s ministry, etc. That’s leading more than half of the church!”
Yet, that’s not enough.
When Women Are Robbed
Jesus’ submission to the Father—in a life of obedience, in the garden, and on the cross—we praise him for this.
We women are robbed by our hearts if we succumb to feeling any defeat or deflation about submitting, or if we regard God’s truth as less than ideal. For devaluing a woman’s submission inadvertently devalues the work of Christ that women, in principle, reflect.
But I want you to understand that the head of every man is Christ, the head of a wife is her husband, and the head of Christ is God. (1 Corinthians 11:3)
Reflecting the Lord is as noble as I could imagine—“and the head of Christ is God.” His unmatched beauty in submitting to the Father when incarnate, securing the way of salvation is somehow by grace similar in principle to my role of submission, whether in marriage or church. The nobility of living by this exceeds the practical advice I wrote of above—this is the “more” we need to know.
Adorned in Uniqueness and Equity
Noble Sarah beautified herself, being subject to her husband.
For this is how the holy women who hoped in God used to adorn themselves, by submitting to their own husbands. (1 Peter 3:5)
What did she know of Christ? She knew of God’s order in creation; yet, the fraction of what she held dear in terms of knowledge of the Messiah means this adornment could not be any less accessible to the holy women of today.
The question to you, sister in Christ—Do you esteem womanly submission?—is best preceded by the question, Do you treasure that Christ submitted? In that light, how can we not perceive the immense privilege here? Defining what submission entails and what it looks like—and what it doesn’t—is beyond the scope of this article. But the right adornment is well to be sought.
So if you, sister, have been asked by God—by virtue of your submission—to relinquish a desire along the natural course of your adult life in marriage and church, this has been your honor. And where we have yet to receive this experience as an honor, it’s not too late to start adorning ourselves accordingly.
Submission in View of Christ
We can live in view of Christ’s cross and unparalleled expense, for he has been gracious to first take us into his view—though we are but dust. We may live our submission in view of him, who—despite any possible circumstance of ours—has always sacrificed the more. This way, we will innately come to treasure him in our hearts and actions.
Before the cross, there is no male or female—all are equally called to the feet of the King and raised to unfading inheritance with him. Further, who could say that the Father is honored above the Son—is there any lack of equity in their honor? Of course not. Thus, it is in equity we women are adorned with the unique role of submission—the humble honor of female Christian submission matching the humble honor of male Christian servant-leadership.
Both men and women, uniquely and together, have the equal joy and privilege of showcasing the riches of our incomparably sacrificial God by showing one another biblically-described forms of honor. For our God-given honor in roles pours itself out in honoring one another: “Outdo one another in showing honor” (Romans 12:10b).
This post was originally published at Unlocking the Bible.
70 Prompts for Praising God
A list of praise-worthy truths—to You, God:
The world changes, but the Christian hope stays the same (Heb. 13:8).
You are present to protect us—guiding us straight through this life to eternal joy (Ps. 16:11).
Even before we fell, You had plans to lift us up in Christ (1 Pet. 1:20; Eph. 2:6).
The sweat of blood, the cross, the bitter cup—You bore sin for us (Lk. 22:14; Matt. 20:22; 1 Pet. 2:24).
Christ is not a shadow, but the true sacrifice (Heb. 10:1-18).
As friends, Christ has let us in on future plans (Jn. 15:15).
Death tears apart our bodies and souls, but You’ll put them together again; we know because of Christ’s resurrection (1 Cor. 15:20).
We will share in His inheritance as glorified sons and daughters (Rom. 8:17).
Satan will be destroyed with a breath (2 Thess. 2:8).
Death itself is going to meet an irrevocable end; You have appointed the day (Rev. 20:14).
You have fulfilled prophecy before and You surely will again (Acts 3:18).
We reach the ends of ourselves and our insights, but your Word never stops pouring riches (Ps. 19:10).
The Bible is true, so we are right to trust it all (2 Timothy 3:16).
Your Word is like nourishing food to us (Matt. 4:4).
When we stand upon Your Word, we stand upon what is forever and cannot be broken (1 Peter 1:25; John 10:35).
You are bigger than our hearts; we do not have to be led by our feelings (1 Jn. 3:20).
We struggle with motives, but You never do. Your plans are always pure (Ps. 18:30).
With You, each day is new. Your forgiveness helps us to forget what’s best forgotten (Lam. 3:22-23).
You will love us for eternity (Ps. 100:5).
Loving You is possible; we were created for this (Phil. 2:13).
One day, we will be sinless like You (Rev. 21:27).
No discipline we receive from You is condemnation; our condemnation is no more (Rom. 8:1).
The discipline we do receive is good; You are good (Prov. 3:12).
We can never run far enough to be away from You, and You do not despise a contrite heart that repents (Ps. 139:8; Ps. 51:17).
You are patient with us and slow to anger (Ps. 145:8).
Even after every failure on this earth, in eternity, you’ll simply welcome us to enjoy (1 Thess. 5:9); You welcome us now (Lk. 7:48).
We can resist temptation and find ourselves loving You more (1 Cor. 10:13).
We never wake to a single day when You are not our Advocate before the Father (1 John 2:1).
While we require an ever-expanding view of You, You knowingly and simply see all we think, feel, and do (Ps. 33:13).
By fearing You, we can hate what is evil and align our hearts with Yours (Prov. 8:13).
Your path is straight; we’ll never be misled (Prov. 3:6).
In Christ, obedience is joy (Lk. 11:28).
The boundaries You give us are just right—pleasant, freeing, and sweet (Ps. 16:6).
You made us; You chose to create. You give us life and hold us together (Gen. 1:27; Col. 1:17).
You are perfectly wise and just, even amidst vast complexities (Job 38-41).
You are everlasting while this world and our lives are but a breath (Isa. 40:28; Ps. 39:5).
We have kings, but You are King—with all power and authority in heaven and on earth (Matt. 28:18).
You are Head of Your church. You direct each one of us (Col. 1:18).
No longer does a human priesthood intermediate; we are all a priesthood with access to Your throne through the God-Man, Christ (1 Pet. 2:5).
You give us membership in the church, the church You love (Eph. 5:32).
We, Your people, are one (Romans 12:5).
Our brothers and sisters have faith that proclaims how good You are (Gal. 3:27; Rom. 1:8).
You have granted us the high, worthy calling to contend for Your truth, given once for all (Jude 1:3).
You give Your children different gifts; yet, You show no favoritism (1 Pet. 4:10; Acts 10:34).
Our brothers’ and sisters’ gifts shine brightly for You (1 Cor. 12:4-5).
Even if poor, Your children are rich (Rev. 2:9).
The redeemed praise You together, with a single voice (Romans 15:6).
You are faithful and able to establish the work we do for You, according to Your will (Ps. 90:17).
We can be successful in Your eyes through faithfulness to keeping Your Word (Ecc. 12:13).
You are our treasure, our great delight (Ps. 43:3).
The Messiah, first promised in Genesis, has come (Gen. 3:14-15); the Spirit He promised does indwell (Jn. 14:15-31). We live in a precious time of history (1 Pet. 1:12).
Your good news truly changes lives (Jn. 1:12).
You know our needs; each need gives our hearts a deeper capacity for You (2 Cor. 12:9-10).
In each one of our breaths and steps—whether taken in joyous celebration or amidst troubling sorrow—You hem us in behind and before (Ps. 139:5).
Prayer matters; we are invited it, to You (Lk. 11:1-4)
When we know You are near, even if we cannot feel You experientially, we cannot be lonely (Ps. 16:8).
We do not mourn as those without hope on this earth (1 Thess. 4:13).
The depths of Your glory that we will experience in the future will incomparably outweigh the depths of our present sorrows (2 Cor. 4:17); Your glory is wonderful.
You understand (Heb. 4:15).
Today’s perseverance and endurance—even if no one else sees them—are remembered by You (Rev. 2-3).
We are weak, but You are strong (Ps. 147:5).
We worship the same God as Abraham, Esther, Deborah, David, Moses, Paul, and John.
Nothing stretches or reaches beyond You; we cannot take a step outside of Your sovereignty (Ps. 115:3).
All people will bow; Your glory will be fully seen (Phil. 2:10; Rev. 1:7).
You give us permission to crave Your quick coming (Rev. 22:21).
When we delight in You and want You, You never fail to give us what we want (Ps. 37:4).
You are going to dwell with us on a new earth; You Yourself will be with us and be our God (Rev. 21:3).
Your Kingdom will know no end (Lk. 1:33).
You take no pleasure in the deaths of those who die without repenting (1 Tim. 2:4; Ezek. 18:23).
Those who do not know You still have the opportunity to repent and believe (2 Pet. 3:9).
“My mouth is filled with Your praise and with Your glory all day long.” Ps. 71:8
This post was originally published at For The Church.
Nourished by Christ in the Wilderness
About four years ago, I experienced my first full-blown panic attack. Those experiences accumulated, and I grew to have increasing difficulty with leaving my home. I remember willfully dumping myself into the passenger seat to be driven to my parents’ nearby home—only to feel an urgent pull two minutes later for the car to be turned around. I remember my husband and I taking our trotting dog for a walk, yards from our home, and I was unable to carry a simple conversation because of the mental pain. By God’s grace, I was directed to a health cause for this anxiety.
Yet, in my months without answers, I experienced the temptation to dwell exclusively upon the question, Will my life now always be like this? Yet, it was because I had peace with God through Christ that I did not despair—and I could see beyond it.
Hunger and Thirst in the Wilderness
David writes of his vision on God in Psalm 63. It is a Psalm from the wilderness—David describes his setting as a waterless, vapid, weary place.
O God, you are my God; earnestly I seek you;
my soul thirsts for you;
my flesh faints for you,
as in a dry and weary land where there is no water. (v. 1)
And Scripture speaks of different categories of wildernesses.
We can see John the Baptist in the wilderness before the beginning of his ministry of proclaiming the coming of Christ (Luke 1:80). He was in a place of knowing that God had issued a calling upon his life, while, for years, he was not at a time of fulfilling that calling—he was waiting.
A wilderness might also be a place of temptation where evil moves—consider Jesus being brought into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil (Matthew 4:1). Christ knows what it is to feel the pressures of being sinned against or to face relentless lies.
The Wilderness of the Soul
Scripture also speaks of another kind of wilderness; John the Baptist proclaimed it (Matthew 3:3), and this is when the Christian faith starts to get especially personal. Scripture says that without Christ, there is a wilderness within us. As our state without Christ is described further by John the Baptist, we see that it is the kind of wilderness we cannot pull ourselves from, and that time alone will not rectify.
Now, David, in his wilderness, said, I thirst, I hunger. And we might similarly say, My soul aches.Yet, David adds two sweet words—for you. In every kind of wilderness, he hungered for the Lord.
The first verse of the Psalm speaks to why he can say these things. First, he says, God; he confesses that God is God, whether or not he and those around him acknowledge it. God.
He goes on to say, You are my God. Now, that is an entirely separate statement—he wanted God to be God of his life and have that exclusive role. And because God was invited to be God of his life, he had formed this habit of praising God in his most barren times.
In fact, he says that doing so was his rich, hearty, meaty, satisfying meal.
The Everyday, Eternal Bread of Life
Jesus says he is the Bread of Life, and that in him, we will never hunger. As Jesus teaches this truth, the theme of wilderness continues. When the Israelites were in the wilderness, they received manna from heaven—yet, Jesus says, They died(John 6:49). Jesus is saying that the kind of food he comes to give us is in a completely different category.
He comes to us in our direst and deadliest of wildernesses—the one of our souls. He says his food fills us entirely with life even there. So, surely, he can fill us in every other kind of wilderness.
Strikingly here, Jesus speaks about eternal, spiritual, significant realities—life, the living Father, the resurrection, being alive forever—but in terms of the everyday, basic human reality of eating a piece of bread.
Jesus expresses what he is to us as the Son of God, telling us, Eat my flesh, drink my blood.This is what he invites us to do! How much more applicable to our everyday lives could this be?
Three Truths About Christ’s Meal to Nourish You
Here are three truths about Christ’s meal to nourish your soul today:
1. This is not a meal of ourselves.
This is a hopeful reality. If you feel, like I did with anxiety, that you are in a depleted, weary, empty, starving space, don’t despair. This is an honest human place to be. You weren’t made to be or produce your own food. Before God, we are like children—we receive the meal; we take and eat what is provided.
2. This is a resurrection meal.
Perhaps you have difficulty connecting with these truths because you cannot see them; they seem abstract. But Jesus says his food and drink are real because they will allow us to live on the last day. And on the last day, we will not need to wait longingly any more; there will be no more lies, temptations, or evil pressures or pain; and there will be no more sorrow of the sin of our souls. Our hearts will be completely clean and cleared—and we will be freed of the wilderness. The food Christ gives is real, for it is the food we need—and the only food we can possibly eat—to allow us to live on that last day, and live forever.
3. Christ is the food.
He did not send someone or something else; he came himself to be flesh—to sacrifice his body and pour out his blood to give us peace with God. This is God getting very personal with us.
With this kind of food in mind, read Psalm 63:3-7:
Because your steadfast love is better than life,
my lips will praise you.
So I will bless you as long as I live;
in your name I will lift up my hands.
My soul will be satisfied as with fat and rich food,
and my mouth will praise you with joyful lips,
when I remember you upon my bed,
and meditate on you in the watches of the night;
for you have been my help,
and in the shadow of your wings I will sing for joy.
This is a Christian meal for us today: the daily bread of the surpassing truths of Christ—which is just as personal a help to us as Christ intended—and the rich, satisfying meal of harvesting those truths in our souls to praise him in the wilderness.
Speak Scripture into Suffering
When my first daughter went to be with the Lord, one friend wrote to me, “There are no words.” There are no words to describe, quantify, or eliminate the pain of child loss—it was a depletion of my person in nearly every possible manner.
There are no words for the kinds of suffering we can endure on this earth. Yet, experiencing that kind of depletion is not a reason to despair with hopelessness, for it can give way to great rejoicing. Through it, the abundance and sufficiency of Scripture become unmistakable. There are divinely-inspired words—that can never be depleted—to speak into intense suffering.
God Speaks through His Word
Many who have not personally experienced intense suffering feel depleted of words the minute they hear about someone else’s deep pain. Perhaps that is you. You feel you cannot relate well to others’ agony. Perhaps you have heard the wide-spread advice that the best approach to someone who is suffering is to be present and only listen. Or, perhaps you have only had occasion to read or learn about what not to say when someone is suffering, so you are at a loss for exactly how to act or be. God’s Word is an abundant, sufficient help for you too.
In The Hiding Place, Corrie ten Boom was familiar with her own suffering and that of others. She recounts that women with her in a Nazi prison camp would encircle her and her sister, pressing in closely and attentively, as they read the Word of God (thanks to a Bible God miraculously provided). Precisely during this level of suffering, they desperately needed and wanted the Word. The God speaking there—through those pages—was their only hope. This remarkable account shows the Word bringing hope and light to a dark and, from an earthly perspective, hopeless circumstance.
So as a Church, as disciplers, as teachers, as leaders, as friends, as one who is suffering intensely—right where you find yourself—let’s do well at speaking Scripture into suffering. In order to do so, we will need to learn the Word itself, not just verses we pluck from the book, but the meaning of passages and, then, the application of passages to our overall theology and the way we view the world. Then, we need to become good listeners. I have learned that there is no substitute for these—learning the Word and listening—and that when they are done well, I have much more to offer someone who is suffering in addition to myself.
Applying Scripture to the Aches of Suffering
Think about your life and heart. What often results in your own spiritual growth? You have an ache. And you bring it to the Lord and his Word. Whether through an article, a conversation with someone else, a lecture, a small group meeting, a sermon, a book, reading the Bible in the quietness of your home, you have a realization about that ache. That is, you learn what the Bible speaks into that ache. When you do, you grow. You are made more whole with the truth of his Word. One experience like this after another, after another is what carried me through grief.
So, if you have a suffering friend, listen for the ache when he or she speaks. If you cannot identify it or if you do not yet know how the Bible speaks into it, then be satisfied with being a good listener—after all, you would only be speaking for the benefit of your friend. Make no assumptions, for a response of biblical perspective to the ache they feel might not be the words you think they need to hear.
If you can indeed identify another’s ache and can grow to interpret and apply the Bible well to the aches you begin to hear around you, then trust that the Word of God is your sufficient and most compassionate resource to share with someone who is suffering.
SCRIPTURE FOR THE ACHE OF SUFFERING’S PRESENCE
When suffering is new, resonate with the ache. A sorrowful reaction to suffering is biblical.
When everything in life now feels meaningless, remember that there is reason for this feeling—the world is not as it should be (Ecclesiastes).
When the experience of grief is life-consuming, remember how consuming David’s grief was over his baby’s impending death (2 Samuel 12:15-17).
When suffering makes you feel lonely, read the Psalms to know you are truly not alone.
When you feel angry with the woeful way of the world, think of Jesus’ troubled, even angered, response to death because of death’s impact upon those grieving the loss of Lazarus (John 11:33).
When this life feels full of anguish, think of Jesus’ anguish in the garden of Gethsemane. The burden he felt when anticipating the cross demonstrates the miserable state of the world (Luke 22:44).
When suffering makes you feel ostracized, take heart that you are in good company when suffering (1 Peter 4:12).
When suffering makes you feel misunderstood, look to the account of Job and the mistaken assumptions of his friends (Job 4-31) or to the gospel accounts to see how constantly Jesus was unappreciated, misunderstood, unrecognized for who he is. People are flawed.
SCRIPTURE FOR THE ACHE OF SUFFERING’S PURPOSE
Listen for the aches longing for light, hope, comfort, or purpose amidst suffering.
When friends and family members do not meet all of your needs, be encouraged that the comfort we receive—even when given through others—is comfort ultimately from God (2 Corinthians 1:4).
When you see debilitating sickness or death overcoming your body or the body of someone you love, remember that we believers will one day have resurrected, glorified, and redeemed bodies just like his heavenly one (1 John 3:2; 1 Corinthians 15:42).
When the force of emotion is strong and your words won’t suffice to express your heart, take comfort that the Holy Spirit himself intercedes for you (Romans 8:26).
When you feel forgotten in your suffering, remember that God memorializes every tear that falls from your eye (Psalm 56:8), just as he knows the number of hairs on your head (Luke 12:7).
When suffering severs a relationship, remember the ultimate relationship forsaking willingly endured within the Godhead for you (Matthew 27:46). God understands.
When you do not feel the compassion of others, remember that Jesus’ suffering (Is 53) and overcoming-power makes him a High Priest who relates to us and causes us to overcome with power too (Hebrews 4:14-16)—giving grace for the present and the promise of heaven.
When death or the fear of death seems to conquer you, remember that he has ultimately defeated death (1 Corinthians 15:55-57).
When you feel distant from God, dwell upon the truth that he has given a love that no suffering, pain, or heartache can pull away from you (Romans 8:38-39).
When suffering makes you feel unmoored, haphazardly walking through life while wondering when you will finally be free from earthly concerns, remember that you are truly and solidly anchored through Christ to the world to come (Hebrews 6:19).
When suffering makes life feel slow, remember that by God’s definition—in view of the eternal state—this suffering is light and momentary (2 Corinthians 4:17).
When you need to be reminded of the treasures that can come alongside of suffering, learn why Jesus said that it is better to go to a house of mourning than to go to a house of feasting (Ecclesiastes 7:2), or why Peter said that faith refined through suffering is gold (1 Peter 1:7). God’s glory can be evident in your faithfulness, giving you purpose and joy.
SCRIPTURE FOR THE ACHE OF SUFFERING’S PAIN
Listen for the ache of being stuck when suffering.
When you experience unending bitterness toward God, look to the story of Jeremiah, who also felt bitterness at his intense suffering. Hear how patient and sure were the words of exhortation and restoration that God spoke to him (Jeremiah 15:18-21).
When others avoid you or when you are tempted to always avoid others who do not fully understand, think of how you might give someone opportunity to enter into your mourning or suffering with you. Then, take heart that when you can share their joy, it truly becomes your own (Romans 12:15).
When you can think of no reason to not blame God for the suffering that has come into your life, look to Genesis 3; the original sin of Adam and Eve is what broke the world. God is One in whom there is no darkness (1 John 1:5), who created the world good (Genesis 1:31), who cannot tempt with evil (James 1:13), and so, cannot be convicted of wickedness, malice, or evil.
When you simply cannot understand your suffering within God’s sovereign plan, rest content that his ways are beyond yours (Romans 11:33; Matthew 18:2).
When suffering makes you stuck in a cycle of looking only inward, remember that you have gifts that can be employed for others’ good and God’s glory (1 Peter 4:10).
When you, Christian, are having difficulty being grateful for what you do have, remember the wrath from which you have been saved (Romans 5:9; 1 Thessalonians 1:10).
When escape from suffering has become your focus, remember that Jesus Christ, and his good pleasure, is your reward (Matthew 25:23).
When you are tempted to blame yourself for circumstances beyond your control, remember that God has purposed all of the events in your life and the lives of those you love—including birth and death, and every circumstance in between (Psalm 139:16)—just as he planned from the beginning of creation that Jesus would die for us (1 Peter 1:20). Remember his sacrificial love as reason to move forward, and move forward in devotion to him.
When you question if your suffering has any meaning or purpose, trust in the sovereignty of God to bring his purposes to fruition through the circumstances of your life, all of which are a part of his plan (Genesis 50:20; Job 42:2).
When you question what miracle of goodness God can bring from your suffering, meditate on Romans 5:3-5 and trust that suffering can teach you, give you a depth of knowledge of God like never before, and bring encouragement when the genuineness of your faith becomes evident (1 Peter 1:17).
This list is far from exhaustive. What would you add?
Listen for the Ache
Whatever the circumstance, listen for the underlying yearning or longing. Let’s keep learning how to carefully apply Scripture to all of the aches we experience. The process of teaching and discipleship is God’s to faithfully lead. And our aches are often the impetus and route God uses for our growth in order to increasingly display his glory through changed and faithful lives. The kind of lives that display his glory like this are grown from his Word.
While it’s not ours to invent or assume others’ aches, it is ours to listen well, to acknowledge back to the sufferer what we hear, and trust that for every need of the heart, God has spoken abundantly and sufficiently in his Word. You can learn skillful application of his Word to human aches and be empowered to give others more than yourself—you can speak his Word. Take heart that this is your source of compassion for the sufferer and this is your source of comfort when suffering, for putting his salve of truth skillfully into our aches is always our good.
If or when a circumstance of suffering comes into your life that cannot be described in words, remember, he speaks.
This post was originally published at Gospel-Centered Discipleship.
Comfort from the Uncomfortable Verses in Psalms
The scene in my life is familiar. Something weighs on my heart: a fear, a temptation, or a thought-battle. Seeking comfort, I naturally go to the Psalms.
I want to be on the path that is straight and narrow; Psalm 5 is my pick for prayer against temptation today. This Psalm readjusts my thinking about my position in this world, the heartache I’ve avoided by giving my life to Christ, and who I am before him.
My heart resonates with David’s prayers:
Listen to my words, Lord, consider my lament… (v. 1)
For you are not a God who is pleased with wickedness… (v. 4)
But I, by your great love, can come into your house; in reverence I bow down… (v. 7)
But then, I come to this:
Make them bear their guilt, O God; let them fall by their own counsels; because of the abundance of their transgressions cast them out, for they have rebelled against you. (v. 10)
I either skim past it or take a moment to wonder how it could possibly mesh with what Jesus says in Matthew 5:43 about loving our enemies. It’s uncomfortable.
Remember God’s Old Covenant
Since there seems to be no solution, I usually choose the former—let’s move on?
Wait.
This is a Psalm of David. David was the king chosen by God, the king after God’s own heart. Well, did God’s heart change from the Old Testament to the New Testament regarding how we approach our enemies?
No, not at all.
David was to serve God and do his part to uphold the covenant between God and Israel. That included a unique mission given to Israel that isn’t given to us: Israel was to continue to carve out the Promised Land by warring against the people groups that possessed it.
What? Aren’t we at an even worse place than where we started?
No, remember one of those first verses: “For you are not a God who is pleased with wickedness.” Israel was given the special mission to war against nations who were committed to their wicked ways (Deuteronomy 20:16-18). God is just to judge evil whenever, in his infinite wisdom, he deems it right.
By choosing this mission for the nation of Israel, God sought to prevent the increased evil of Israel’s own disobedience—the disobedience that would threaten their ability to fulfill the conditional aspects of their blessed covenants with God (Exodus 19:5-6; 2 Samuel 7). God was being gracious to Israel with this mission.
Let’s return to the verse that gives some discomfort:
Make them bear their guilt, O God; let them fall by their own counsels; because of the abundance of their transgressions cast them out, for they have rebelled against you.
David is praying that God would cause to crumble what brought wickedness into the nation of Israel; David prayed in alignment with the specific covenant mission God gave him.[1]
Align Your Prayers with God’s New Covenant
Do you and I have this kind of mission of war today? No, of course not. We don’t have a nation to battle at God’s command; but, like David, we do have a covenant with God. We have a covenant that we participate in through Jesus Christ—a covenant through his blood, binding our hearts to his (Jeremiah 31).
Like David, we can think about what’s present in our daily lives that threatens to lead our hearts away from the depths and joys of this covenant.
I have evil pressing against me from every side. There are lies. There are half-truths posing as truths. There are vanities. There are whispers that tempt me to question the good work God has done in my life. These all threaten my heart; they pose to lead me astray.
With a new perspective on David’s prayer, I return to the reason I first went to the Psalms. Something weighs on my heart: a fear, a temptation, or a thought-battle. Seeking comfort, I naturally go to the Psalms—but now I go through the way of our new covenant. I enter into David’s prayer again:
When I read,
Make them bear their guilt (v. 10),
I pray,
God, bring every evil in my life to light so that I can see it.
When I read,
O God; let them fall by their own counsels (v. 10),
I pray,
God, show every evil in my life for what it is: a path to destruction.
When I read,
Because of the abundance of their transgressions cast them out, for they have rebelled against you. (v. 10)
I pray,
God, let me hate everything that you hate. Cast it all aside. Defeat it in my life and in the lives of those around me as it is already truly defeated at the Cross.
Rejoice in God’s Promises
The conclusion of Psalm 5 means even more to me now.
But let all who take refuge in you rejoice; let them ever sing for joy, and spread your protection over them, that those who love your name may exult you. For you bless the righteous, O Lord; you cover him with favor as with a shield. (vv. 11-12)
He is our refuge and protection from the temptations, lies, and whispers that threaten our hearts. As David was praying for what threatened his old covenant, so we can equally pray his words against everything that threatens the depths of our joy and participation in our new covenant with God through Jesus Christ.
No longer do I feel uncomfortable with these verses in the Psalms. But, all the more, the Psalms give the comfort I first sought, for I have even more promises to claim and even more of God’s heart to see. We are on the side of Christ—the One victorious over all temptations; he is a shield against them.
As we come to him through the Psalms because we face whispers and lies that might lead us astray, he covers us with his favor and his protection. Let all who take refuge in him rejoice.
[1]Waltke, Bruce. “Psalm 2-3: How To Pray In Christ.” Legacy Recordings. C.S. Lewis Institute. Web (http://www.cslewisinstitute.org/node/1032). 03 Jan. 2015.
This post was originally published at Unlocking the Bible.