1 Samuel 16:6-13

What do you live for each day? A pay raise? Retirement? Then perhaps you’ve discovered the reality that basing aspirations on getting ahead in this world typically ends in disappointment. People with a misguided sense of direction often wonder why they feel unfulfilled.

Maybe you’ve already realized a goal of saving for the future or moving up the corporate ladder. You give to charity and volunteer at church, but somehow still feel a sense of insignificance or aimlessness. If so, there is a truth you need to hear: God gives each of us life for a very specific reason: to serve Him. Nobody finds inner peace without reconciling this fact. Our society teaches us that pleasure, prosperity, position, and popularity will make us happy–but living in the service of self always leaves an emptiness no earthly reward can fill.

Besides, worldly philosophy won’t stand the test of time. Few of us are going to live even 100 years. So whatever we’ll become in this life, we’re in the process of becoming that right now. Consider David: he was anointed king long before actually assuming the role (1 Sam. 16:12). He spent many years serving the purpose of God in insignificant places while developing into a great man. As his story shows, discovering God’s purpose for your life is the surest path to success.

Our heavenly Father’s purpose for our lives comes from His heart of love–which is perfect. None of us can foretell the great things He has in store for us, but we can trust His plan completely. Surrender to Him today and say, “Not my will, Lord, but Yours be done.”

There was a body on the cross. This was the shocking revelation of a 12 year-old seeing a crucifix for the first time. I was not used to seeing Jesus there—or any body for that matter. The many crosses in my world were empty. But here, visiting a friend’s church, in a denomination different from my own, was a scene I had never fully considered.

In my own Protestant circles I remember hearing the rationale. Holy Week did not end with Jesus on the cross. Good Friday is not the end of the story. Jesus was crucified, died, and was buried. And on the third day, he rose again. The story ends in the victory of Easter. The cross is empty because Christ is risen.

In fact, it is true, and as Paul notes, essential, that Christians worship a risen Christ. “[For] if Christ has not been raised, then our proclamation has been in vain and your faith is in vain” (1 Corinthians 15:14). Even walking through the events of Holy Week—the emotion of the Last Supper, the anguish in Gethsemane, the denials of the disciples, the interrogation of Pilate, and the lonely way to Golgotha—we are well aware that though the cross is coming, so is the empty tomb. The dark story of Good Friday will indeed be answered by the light of Easter morning.

And yet, there is scarcely a theologian I can imagine who would set aside the fathomless mystery of the crucifixion in the interest of a doctrine that “over-shadows” it. The resurrection follows the crucifixion; it does not erase it.  Though the cross has indeed taken away the sting of death, and Christ has truly borne our pain, and the burden of humanity is that we will follow him. Even Christ, who retained the scars of his own crucifixion, told his followers that they, too, would drink the cup from which he drank. The Christian, who considers himself “crucified with Christ,” will surely “take up his cross” and follow him. The good news is that Christ goes with us, even as he went before us, fully tasting humanity in a body like yours and mine.

Thus, far from being an act that undermines the victory of the resurrection, the remembrance of Jesus’s hour of suffering boldly unites us with Christ himself. For it was on the cross that Christ most intimately bound himself to humanity. It was “for this hour” that Christ himself declared that he came. Humanity is, in turn, united to him in his suffering and is near him in our own. Had there not been an actual body on the cross, such mysteries would not be substantive enough to reach us.

Author and undertaker Thomas Lynch describes a related problem as well-meaning onlookers at funerals attempt to console the grief-stricken. Lynch describes how often he hears someone tell the weeping mother or father of the child who died of leukemia or a car accident, “It’s okay, that’s not her, it’s just a shell.”(1) But the suggestion that a dead body is “just” anything, particularly in the early stages of grief, he finds more than problematic. What if, he imagines, we were to use a similar wording to describe our hope in resurrection—namely, that Christ raised “just” a body from the dead. Lynch continues, “What if, rather than crucifixion, he’d opted for suffering low self-esteem for the remission of sins? What if, rather than ‘just a shell,’ he’d raised his personality say, or The Idea of Himself? Do you think they’d have changed the calendar for that? […] Easter was a body and blood thing, no symbols, no euphemisms, no half measures.”(2)

On the cross, we find the one whose self-offering transformed all suffering and forever lifted the finality of death. On the fifty holy days of Easter that follow a dark and Good Friday, we find the very figure of God with us, a body who cried out in a loud voice in the midst of anguish, on the brink of death, “Father, forgive them for they know not what they do.” Precisely because the cross was not empty, the coming resurrection is profoundly full.

Jill Carattini is managing editor of A Slice of Infinity at Ravi Zacharias International Ministries in Atlanta, Georgia.

(1) Thomas Lynch, The Undertaking: Life Studies from the Dismal Trade (New York: Penguin, 1997), 21.
(2) Ibid.

Morning    “Ye are come to the blood of sprinkling, that speaketh better things than that of Abel.”     Hebrews 12:24

Reader, have you come to the blood of sprinkling? The question is not whether

you have come to a knowledge of doctrine, or an observance of ceremonies, or to

a certain form of experience, but have you come to the blood of Jesus? The blood

of Jesus is the life of all vital godliness. If you have truly come to Jesus, we

know how you came–the Holy Spirit sweetly brought you there. You came to the

blood of sprinkling with no merits of your own. Guilty, lost, and helpless, you

came to take that blood, and that blood alone, as your everlasting hope. You

came to the cross of Christ, with a trembling and an aching heart; and oh! what

a precious sound it was to you to hear the voice of the blood of

Jesus! The dropping of his blood is as the music of heaven to the penitent sons

of earth. We are full of sin, but the Saviour bids us lift our eyes to him, and

as we gaze upon his streaming wounds, each drop of blood, as it falls, cries,

“It is finished; I have made an end of sin; I have brought in everlasting

righteousness.” Oh! sweet language of the precious blood of Jesus! If you have

come to that blood once, you will come to it constantly. Your life will be

“Looking unto Jesus.” Your whole conduct will be epitomized in this–“To whom

coming.” Not to whom I have come, but to whom I am always coming. If thou hast

ever come to the blood of sprinkling, thou wilt feel thy need of coming to

it every day. He who does not desire to wash in it every day, has never washed

in it at all. The believer ever feels it to be his joy and privilege that there

is still a fountain opened. Past experiences are doubtful food for Christians; a

present coming to Christ alone can give us joy and comfort. This morning let us

sprinkle our door-post fresh with blood, and then feast upon the Lamb, assured

that the destroying angel must pass us by.

Evening    “We would see Jesus.”     John 12:21

Evermore the worldling’s cry is, “Who will show us any good?” He seeks

satisfaction in earthly comforts, enjoyments, and riches. But the quickened

sinner knows of only one good. “O that I knew where I might find Him !” When he

is truly awakened to feel his guilt, if you could pour the gold of India at his

feet, he would say, “Take it away: I want to find Him.” It is a blessed thing

for a man, when he has brought his desires into a focus, so that they all centre

in one object. When he has fifty different desires, his heart resembles a mire

of stagnant water, spread out into a marsh, breeding miasma and pestilence; but

when all his desires are brought into one channel, his heart becomes like

a river of pure water, running swiftly to fertilize the fields. Happy is he who

hath one desire, if that one desire be set on Christ, though it may not yet have

been realized. If Jesus be a soul’s desire, it is a blessed sign of divine work

within. Such a man will never be content with mere ordinances. He will say, “I

want Christ; I must have him–mere ordinances are of no use to me; I want

himself; do not offer me these; you offer me the empty pitcher, while I am dying

of thirst; give me water, or I die. Jesus is my soul’s desire. I would see

Jesus!”

Is this thy condition, my reader, at this moment? Hast thou but one desire, and

is that after Christ? Then thou art not far from the kingdom of heaven. Hast

thou but one wish in thy heart, and that one wish that thou mayst be washed from

all thy sins in Jesus’ blood? Canst thou really say, “I would give all I have to

be a Christian; I would give up everything I have and hope for, if I might but

feel that I have an interest in Christ?” Then, despite all thy fears, be of good

cheer, the Lord loveth thee, and thou shalt come out into daylight soon, and

rejoice in the liberty wherewith Christ makes men free.

So his hands were steady until the going down of the sun.

Exodus 17:12

The prayer of Moses was so mighty that everything depended upon it. The petitions of Moses disconcerted the enemy more than the fighting of Joshua. Yet both were needed. In the soul’s conflict, force and fervor, decision and devotion, valor and vehemence must join their forces, and all will be well.

You must wrestle with your sin, but the major part of the wrestling must be done alone in private with God. Prayer like Moses’ holds up the token of the covenant before the Lord. The rod was the emblem of God’s working with Moses, the symbol of God’s government in Israel. Learn, praying saint, to hold up the promise and the oath of God before Him. The Lord cannot deny His own declarations. Hold up the rod of promise, and have what you seek.

Moses grew tired, and then his friends assisted him. Whenever your prayer loses vigor, let faith support one hand, and let holy hope lift up the other, and prayer seating itself upon the stone of Israel, the rock of our salvation, will persevere and prevail. Beware of growing faint in your devotion.

If Moses felt it, who can escape? It is far easier to fight with sin in public than to pray against it in private. It has been observed that while Joshua never grew weary in the fighting, Moses did grow weary in the praying; the more spiritual an exercise, the more difficult it is for flesh and blood to maintain it.

Let us cry, then, for special strength, and may the Spirit of God, who helps our weaknesses as He helped Moses, enable us like him to continue with our steady hands “until the going down of the sun,” until the evening of life is over, until we shall come to the rising of a better sun in the land where prayer is swallowed up in praise.

The family reading plan for April 16, 2012

Ecclesiastes 3 | 1 Timothy 5

Psalm 119:9-16

What is your response when you read that David was a man after God’s heart (Acts 13:2)? Many of us look up to him as a spiritual giant and think to ourselves, I could never be like that. But the Lord hasn’t reserved this title for just one man. He wants all of us to seek Him as David did. One of our problems is our tendency to focus on just part of his story. We tend to forget that the scriptural account gives a record of King David’s entire lifetime. He had to begin pursuing the Lord the same way we do–one step at a time.

A hunger for God doesn’t usually just pop up in our hearts. Most of the time, it’s something that must be cultivated. The place to begin is the Bible. That’s where we listen to the Lord as He speaks to us in His Word.

Another essential element is prayer. As you read His words, start talking to Him. If it all seems dry and meaningless, ask Him to work in your life to make Scripture come alive. He loves to answer prayers like that.

The next step is meditation. Don’t just “put in your time” so you can say you’ve read your Bible. Slow down and deliberately think about what you’ve read. What did you discover about God?

The last step is to keep at it. A hunger for God may not develop right away, but remember, you’re working for a changed heart that will last a lifetime, not a quick emotional experience. Just keep filling up with the fuel that brings transformation–the Word, prayer, and meditation

Researchers believe they have come up with a questionnaire that can measure a person’s chances of dying within the next four years. According to one of the test’s designers, it is reported to be roughly 81 percent accurate among those who are 50 years or older. Their report, which was published in the Journal of the American Medical Association, claims the assessment will be useful to doctors in offering prognostic information and to patients who want a more determined look at the future. Regardless of the questionnaire’s effectiveness, however, the headline still strikes me as ironic: “Test Helps You Predict Chances of Dying.”(1) It brings to mind the lines of Emily Dickinson, “Because I could not stop for Death, He kindly stopped for me.”  We don’t need a test to tell us our chances of dying.

British statesman and avowed atheist Roy Hattersley writes in the Guardian of a recent experience at a funeral. It was a funeral, he said, which almost converted him to the belief that funeral services–of which he has disapproved for years–ought to be encouraged. His conclusion was forged as he sang the hymns and studied the proclamations of a crowd that seemed sincere: “[T]he church is so much better at staging last farewells than non-believers could ever be.”(2) He continues, “‘Death where is thy sting, grave where is thy victory?’ are stupid questions. But even those of us who do not expect salvation find a note of triumph in the burial service. There could be a godless thanksgiving for and celebration of the life of [whomever]. The music might be much the same. But it would not have the uplifting effect without the magnificent, meaningless, words.”

I had never been to a funeral until I was the seminary intern for a small rural church in Oklahoma. I had attended a visitation once and a few memorial services years earlier, but I had never watched a family move from planning to wake to service to burial, until I assisted more families through the entire funeral process than seemed possible for the tiny congregation. We had more than seven times the number of deaths as we had births in the church that year.

Something happens when you are given the opportunity to be an observer at that many funerals. The reality of the sting of death became like a running commentary on the futility of life and fleeting nature of humanity. “For who knows what is good for a man in life during the few and meaningless days he passes through like a shadow?” asks Solomon. “Surely the people are grass,” writes Isaiah. I had never been more aware of my own transience.

But there was an incredible paradox in this looming experience of death’s repetitive sting. With each new grave came the unnaturalness of the process all over again—a body at the front of the altar, a hole dug deeply, a coffin lowered. Yet as death continued to rear its ugly head in our small community and life stood futile to stop it, the words spoken over the body again and again did not become futile themselves. On the contrary, they grew all the more resounding. I came to realize that our words were not spoken to soften the blow, but rather, to affirm the offense, to acknowledge the sting of death in all of its aberrancy–and to name the one who came to reverse it, having gone through it himself.

We are the only creatures in this world who ceremoniously bury their dead, who speak words over bodies, and take them all the way to the grave. Why does death never cease to seem unnatural even despite the worldview we bring to the funeral?  What is it about this spirit that will not stop, that refuses to be reconciled to loss and give death the last word?  What is it that makes us cry out to someone or someplace beyond the self?  “If only for this life we have hope in Christ,” writes Paul, “we are to be pitied more than all men” (1 Corinthians 15:19).

Hattersley concludes his observations with a comment of which he himself has perhaps not plumbed the depths: “Dull would he be of soul (or the humanist equivalent) who is not moved to tears by the exhortation, ‘He died to make us holy, let us live to make men free.'”(3) Such were the final lines the statesman uttered without meaning at the funeral that moved him.

What if the inherent logic that brings us to the graveside with words and longing hints of a transcendent memory that life was never intended to be cut short and that death can somehow be overcome? What if the last farewell is not the final word? Indeed, what if the words we speak over our dead were never intended to be our own: I am the resurrection and the life. He who comes to me will live, even though he dies.

Jill Carattini is managing editor of A Slice of Infinity at Ravi Zacharias International Ministries in Atlanta, Georgia.

(1) “Test Helps You Predict Chances of Dying,” Forbes News Online, February 14, 2006, accessed March 10, 2012, http://forbes.com/work/feeds/ap/2006/02/14/ap2526211.html.
(2) Roy Hattersley, “A Decent Send-off,” The Guardian, January 16, 2006, accessed March 10, 2012, http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2006/jan/16/religion.uk2.
(3) Ibid.

Morning    “All they that see me laugh me to scorn: they shoot out the lip, they shake the  head.”    Psalm 22:7

Mockery was a great ingredient in our Lord’s woe. Judas mocked him in the

garden; the chief priests and scribes laughed him to scorn; Herod set him at

nought; the servants and the soldiers jeered at him, and brutally insulted him;

Pilate and his guards ridiculed his royalty; and on the tree all sorts of horrid

jests and hideous taunts were hurled at him. Ridicule is always hard to bear,

but when we are in intense pain it is so heartless, so cruel, that it cuts us to

the quick. Imagine the Saviour crucified, racked with anguish far beyond all

mortal guess, and then picture that motley multitude, all wagging their heads or

thrusting out the lip in bitterest contempt of one poor suffering

victim! Surely there must have been something more in the crucified One than

they could see, or else such a great and mingled crowd would not unanimously

have honoured him with such contempt. Was it not evil confessing, in the very

moment of its greatest apparent triumph, that after all it could do no more than

mock at that victorious goodness which was then reigning on the cross? O Jesus,

“despised and rejected of men,” how couldst thou die for men who treated thee so

ill? Herein is love amazing, love divine, yea, love beyond degree. We, too, have

despised thee in the days of our unregeneracy, and even since our new birth we

have set the world on high in our hearts, and yet thou bleedest

to heal our wounds, and diest to give us life. O that we could set thee on a

glorious high throne in all men’s hearts! We would ring out thy praises over

land and sea till men should as universally adore as once they did unanimously

reject.

“Thy creatures wrong thee, O thou sovereign Good!

Thou art not loved, because not understood:

This grieves me most, that vain pursuits beguile

Ungrateful men, regardless of thy smile.”

Evening    “Say ye to the righteous, that it shall be well with him.”   Isaiah 3:10

It is well with the righteous always. If it had said, “Say ye to the righteous,

that it is well with him in his prosperity,” we must have been thankful for so

great a boon, for prosperity is an hour of peril, and it is a gift from heaven

to be secured from its snares: or if it had been written, “It is well with him

when under persecution,” we must have been thankful for so sustaining an

assurance, for persecution is hard to bear; but when no time is mentioned, all

time is included. God’s “shalls” must be understood always in their largest

sense. From the beginning of the year to the end of the year, from the first

gathering of evening shadows until the day-star shines, in all conditions and

under all circumstances, it shall be well with the righteous. It is so well

with him that we could not imagine it to be better, for he is well fed, he feeds

upon the flesh and blood of Jesus; he is well clothed, he wears the imputed

righteousness of Christ; he is well housed, he dwells in God; he is well

married, his soul is knit in bonds of marriage union to Christ; he is well

provided for, for the Lord is his Shepherd; he is well endowed, for heaven is

his inheritance. It is well with the righteous–well upon divine authority; the

mouth of God speaks the comforting assurance. O beloved, if God declares that

all is well, ten thousand devils may declare it to be ill, but we laugh them all

to scorn. Blessed be God for a faith which enables us to believe God when the

creatures contradict him. It is, says the Word, at all times well with thee,

thou righteous one; then, beloved, if thou canst not see it, let God’s word

stand thee in stead of sight; yea, believe it on divine authority more

confidently than if thine eyes and thy feelings told it to thee. Whom God

blesses is blest indeed, and what his lip declares is truth most sure and

steadfast.

He shall lay his hand on the head of the burnt offering, and it shall be accepted for him to make atonement for him.

Leviticus 1:4

Our Lord’s being “made . . . sin”2 for us is pictured here by the very significant transfer of sin to the bullock, which was done by the elders of the people. The laying of the hand was not a mere touch of contact, for in some other places of Scripture the original word has the meaning of leaning heavily, as in the expression, “Your wrath lies heavy upon me” (Psalm 88:7).

Surely this is the very essence and nature of faith, which not only brings us into contact with the great Substitute, but also teaches us to lean upon Him with all the burden of our guilt. Jehovah made all the offenses of His covenant people rest upon the Substitute, and each one of the chosen is brought personally to confirm this solemn covenant act, when by grace he is enabled by faith to lay his hand upon the head of the Lamb that was slain before the foundation of the world.

Believer, do you remember that wonderful day when you first realized pardon through Jesus the sin-bearer? Can you make a glad confession and join with the writer in saying, “My soul recalls the day of deliverance with delight. Burdened with guilt and full of fears, I saw my Savior as my Substitute, and I laid my hand upon Him—timidly at first, but courage grew and confidence was confirmed until I leaned my soul entirely upon Him. And now it is my unceasing joy to know that my sins are no longer imputed to me but are laid on Him. Like the debts of the wounded traveler, Jesus, like the good Samaritan, has said of all my future sinfulness, ‘Set that to My account.'”

Blessed discovery! Eternal solace of a grateful heart!

My numerous sins transferr’d to Him,

Shall never more be found,

Lost in His blood’s atoning stream,

Where every crime is drown’d!

22 Corinthians 5:21

The family reading plan for April 13, 2012

Proverbs 31 | 1 Timothy 2

Acts 13:16-22

I sometimes like to walk through a cemetery and read the epitaphs on the tombstones. It’s interesting to see what words are used to sum up a person’s life. This may seem like a morbid pastime, but it’s actually a great way to reassess our own lives. We’re each going to leave a testimony of some kind when we die. Have you ever wondered what your loved ones will write on your gravestone? What words do you want inscribed there?

In our passage today, the apostle Paul tells us God’s evaluation of David: He described him as “a man after My heart, who will do all My will” (v. 22). What an awesome testimony of a life well lived! The Lord wasn’t describing a perfect man, but one whose life was centered on God’s interests and desires.

David’s many psalms attest to the fact that his relationship with the Lord was the most important aspect of his life. His passion was to obey God and carry out His will. However, that doesn’t mean he was always obedient. Who can forget his failure with Bathsheba? But even when he sinned by committing adultery and murder, his heart was still bent toward God. The conviction he felt and his humble repentance afterward proved that his relationship with the Lord was still his top priority.

If God was writing a summary of your life, how would He describe you? Does your heart align with His, or have you let it follow the pleasures and pursuits of this world? Unless we diligently pursue our relationship with the Lord, we will drift away from Him. Maybe it’s time for a course correction

The sharp distinction between the historical Jesus and the Christ of faith common in New Testament studies has proven to be an inexhaustible mine for those searching for melodramatic ideas to bounce around during important Christian holidays. The historical Jesus is taken to be the merely human person who was born and raised in Palestine and was crucified during the days of Pontius Pilate. The Christ of faith is assumed to be a mythical, supernatural figure invented by the early admirers of the earthly Jesus. Such thinking flourished in eighteenth century German biblical scholarship, particularly after the posthumous publication of the private notes of Herman Samuel Reimarus between 1774 and 1778.

Inspired by Reimarus’s doubts concerning the historicity of the biblical record, many other scholars published monographs in which they cast Jesus in various religious and cultural roles unhinged from the supernatural. The whole movement, which became known as “the old quest of the historical Jesus,” was brought to a near screeching halt by the 1906 publication of Albert Schweitzer’s book, The Quest of the Historical Jesus, whose title also branded the movement. Schweitzer demonstrated that the scholars of the old quest shared something in common—they relied heavily on their presuppositions about who they believed Jesus was and so “each individual created him in accordance with his own character.”(1) In other words, each one of them ended up producing the Jesus they went out looking for in the first place.

Unfortunately, the tendency to recast Jesus in our own image continues even in our day. In scholarly circles, it is represented by the Jesus Seminar which refuses to allow the possibility of the supernatural for those who have “seen the heavens through Galileo’s telescope.”(2) Even among believers, it rears its ugly head whenever we prefix the name of Jesus with the possessive pronoun “my” in order to secure our turf from unwelcome scrutiny. A few years ago, a friend and I attended a church in which several people broke out in convulsive laughter in the middle of the worship service. My friend later informed me that they were laughing in Jesus. I knew something about the historical Jesus, but this was my first encounter with the hysterical Jesus and further evidence of his protean flexibility in human hands.

The allure of the personality of Jesus is impossible to shake off, whether in profane expressions of provocation or in moments of fervent praise. Enthusiastic children sing about him in Sunday school, while seasoned, scrupulous, dyed-in-the-wool ivory tower scholars make flourishing careers out of studying or even quibbling with his words. The New Ager wants him for an ascended master. The Hindu wants him for a guru. The Muslim will accept him as a prophet of Allah. The secular humanist admires him as a great moral teacher, and the oppressed of the world identify with his suffering. Like an immensely gifted athlete with some eccentric personality quirkiness, it seems Jesus will be welcomed into almost any team, provided the coaches retain a measure of confidence that they can tame him. We insist on meeting Jesus on our own terms, and our ideas of who he is invariably take the form of our most cherished images. Like the proverbial queen in Snow White, our questions about Jesus are sometimes motivated by predetermined answers. We ask, “Mirror, mirror on the wall, which Jesus is the fairest of them all?” and the only answer we will accept is the one that best suits our fancies.

But in spite of our audacious determination to craft a custom-made god out of the story of Jesus, the Jesus of the Bible remains in complete command of himself and us. When the dust settles, it is the eternally imposing figure of the one claiming to be the Incarnate Son of God that lies behind the hauntingly inescapable question, “Who do you say that I am?” (Matthew 16:15). Any honest search for an answer to this question must take our presuppositions to account in light of the available evidence. The main question we all have to contend with is our attitude towards a world in which there exists a Being totally outside our control and to whom we must subject our autonomy. In his book, The Last Word, philosopher Thomas Nagel may have spoken for many when he attributed his own preference for the non-existence of God to a “cosmic authority problem.”(3)

We are easily broken over the pain and suffering we see around us, and well we should. But what a day of rejoicing it is when our hearts are broken by the sweet bitterness of seeing that suffering and our own sinfulness against the blinding purity of the Son of God; when our fists begin to loosen our grip on the stones we would self-righteously cast at others, and when we finally approach God, not as his advisors, but as sinners in need of mercy and forgiveness! When the intent is right and the mirror is the word of God in its historical context, the revelation that true beauty lies in Christ alone will only drive us ever closer to the restoration of our own beauty in God. Such an encounter with our Creator is not to be found amidst the cacophony of noises within the factory of dedicated god-crafters; it is best seen when nothing obscures our view of the cross.

J.M. Njoroge is a member of the speaking team at Ravi Zacharias International Ministries in Atlanta, Georgia

(1) Albert Schweitzer, The Quest of the Historical Jesus, (New York: Macmillan, 1962), 4.
(2) Robert Funk, Roy W. Hoover, and The Jesus Seminar, The Five Gospels (San Francisco: HarperCollins, 1997), 2.
(3) Thomas Nagel, The Last Word, (New York: Oxford University Press, 1997), 131.

Morning    “Do as thou hast said.”    2 Samuel 7:25

God’s promises were never meant to be thrown aside as waste paper; he intended

that they should be used. God’s gold is not miser’s money, but is minted to be

traded with. Nothing pleases our Lord better than to see his promises put in

circulation; he loves to see his children bring them up to him, and say, “Lord,

do as thou hast said.” We glorify God when we plead his promises. Do you think

that God will be any the poorer for giving you the riches he has promised? Do

you dream that he will be any the less holy for giving holiness to you? Do you

imagine he will be any the less pure for washing you from your sins? He has said

“Come now, and let us reason together, saith the Lord: though your

sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like

crimson, they shall be as wool.” Faith lays hold upon the promise of pardon, and

it does not delay, saying, “This is a precious promise, I wonder if it be true?”

but it goes straight to the throne with it, and pleads, “Lord, here is the

promise, Do as thou hast said.'” Our Lord replies, “Be it unto thee even as thou

wilt.” When a Christian grasps a promise, if he does not take it to God, he

dishonours him; but when he hastens to the throne of grace, and cries, “Lord, I

have nothing to recommend me but this, Thou hast said it;'” then his desire

shall be granted. Our heavenly Banker delights to cash his own notes.

Never let the promise rust. Draw the sword of promise out of its scabbard, and

use it with holy violence. Think not that God will be troubled by your

importunately reminding him of his promises. He loves to hear the loud outcries

of needy souls. It is his delight to bestow favours. He is more ready to hear

than you are to ask. The sun is not weary of shining, nor the fountain of

flowing. It is God’s nature to keep his promises; therefore go at once to the

throne with “Do as thou hast said.”

Evening    “But I give myself unto prayer.”     Psalm 109:4

Lying tongues were busy against the reputation of David, but he did not defend

himself; he moved the case into a higher court, and pleaded before the great

King himself. Prayer is the safest method of replying to words of hatred. The

Psalmist prayed in no cold-hearted manner, he gave himself to the

exercise–threw his whole soul and heart into it–straining every sinew and

muscle, as Jacob did when wrestling with the angel. Thus, and thus only, shall

any of us speed at the throne of grace. As a shadow has no power because there

is no substance in it, even so that supplication, in which a man’s proper self

is not thoroughly present in agonizing earnestness and vehement desire, is

utterly

ineffectual, for it lacks that which would give it force. “Fervent prayer,”

says an old divine, “like a cannon planted at the gates of heaven, makes them

fly open.” The common fault with the most of us is our readiness to yield to

distractions. Our thoughts go roving hither and thither, and we make little

progress towards our desired end. Like quicksilver our mind will not hold

together, but rolls off this way and that. How great an evil this is! It injures

us, and what is worse, it insults our God. What should we think of a petitioner,

if, while having an audience with a prince, he should be playing with a feather

or catching a fly?

Continuance and perseverance are intended in the expression of our text. David

did not cry once, and then relapse into silence; his holy clamour was continued

till it brought down the blessing. Prayer must not be our chance work, but our

daily business, our habit and vocation. As artists give themselves to their

models, and poets to their classical pursuits, so must we addict ourselves to

prayer. We must be immersed in prayer as in our element, and so pray without

ceasing. Lord, teach us so to pray that we may be more and more prevalent in

supplication.

…The king’s garden…   Nehemiah 3:15

Mention of the king’s garden by Nehemiah brings to mind the paradise that the King of kings prepared for Adam. Sin has utterly ruined that delightful dwelling and has driven out the children of men to till the ground, which yields thorns and thistles to them. My soul, remember the Fall, for it was your fall. Weep much because the Lord of love was so shamefully ill treated by the head of the human race, of which you are a member, as undeserving as any. Behold how dragons and demons dwell on this fair earth, which was once a garden of delights.

Look now at another King’s garden, which the King waters with His bloody sweat—Gethsemane, whose bitter herbs are far sweeter to renewed souls than the luscious fruits of Eden. In Gethsemane the mischief of the serpent in the first garden was undone: There the curse was lifted from earth and borne by the woman’s promised seed. My soul, learn to ponder Christ’s agony and passion; visit the garden of the olive-press, and view your great Redeemer rescuing you from your lost condition. This is the garden of gardens; indeed, here the soul may see the guilt of sin and the power of love, two sights that surpass all others.

Is there no other King’s garden? Yes, my heart, or should be. How do the flowers flourish? Do any choice fruits appear? Does the King walk there and rest in the arbor of my spirit? Let me ensure that the plants are trimmed and watered, and the mischievous foxes hunted out. Come, Lord, and let the heavenly wind blow at Your coming, that the spices of Your garden may cast their fragrance everywhere. I must not forget the King’s garden of the church. O Lord, send prosperity to it. Rebuild her walls, nourish her plants, ripen her fruits, and from the huge wilderness reclaim the wasteland and make of it a King’s garden.

The family reading plan for April 12, 2012

Proverbs 30 | 1 Timothy 1

1 Corinthians 2:1-5

Paul was single-minded in the message he preached. The cross was not only his primary subject; it was also his motivation for living. When we begin to understand all that Jesus did for us at Calvary, we, too, can receive fresh motivation to live for Him. For instance, we can…

Walk humbly before God. Since the power to live the Christian life is supplied by Christ, there is no room for pride. When Jesus died, our “flesh” nature was crucified with Him so that we could live in newness of life. Any success we achieve in living righteously or walking in obedience is possible only because He is working through us.

Serve the Lord faithfully. At the cross, we were placed “in Christ,” and He is in us (Gal. 2:20). We are now His body on earth, created for good works which God has prepared for us to do (Eph. 2:10). Jesus wasn’t crucified so we could sit in pews each Sunday and listen to sermons. He has specific tasks for each of us to achieve during our lifetime.

Share our faith. Knowing all that Jesus accomplished at the cross should motivate us to share the gospel with others. This world is filled with hurting people who know nothing about salvation. Since their eternal destiny is at stake, how can we keep our mouths closed?

Too often we view the cross only as a past event that secured our eternal destiny, and we fail to see how it can motivate daily choices and activities. Stop to contemplate all that God is continually accomplishing in you though the cross. Let it be your motivation to live wholeheartedly for Christ

The first and most important step to understanding the nature of truth is exemplified in a conversation between Jesus and Pilate. The conversation began with Pilate asking Jesus if indeed he was a king. The very surprising answer of Jesus was, “Are you asking this of your own, or has someone else set you up for this?”

In effect, Jesus was asking Pilate if this was a genuine question or purely an academic one. He was not merely checking on Pilate’s sincerity. He was opening up Pilate’s heart to himself, to reveal to Pilate his unwillingness to deal with the implications of Jesus’s answer. In the pursuit of truth, intent is prior to content, or to the availability of it. The love of truth and the willingness to submit to its demands is the first step.

But second, Jesus said something even more extraordinary. After claiming his lordship was rooted in a kingdom that was not of this world, he said, “They that are on the side of truth, listen to me” (John 18:37). Jesus was not merely establishing the existence of truth, but his pristine embodiment of it. He was identical with the truth. This meant that everything he said and did, and the life he lived in the flesh, represented that which was in keeping with ultimate reality. And therefore, to reject him is to choose to govern one’s self with a lie.

God’s answers to life’s questions of origin, meaning, morality, and destiny are not just proven by the process of abstract reasoning, but are also sustained by the rigors of experience. And in the reality of history, God has demonstrated empirically the living out of truth in the birth, life, death, and resurrection of his Son, recently celebrated. In short, the intimations of truth come in multisensory fashion. The Guardian of Reason leads us to check the correspondence of his word with reality and to ascertain the coherence of the assertions. But our experience in life proves those truths in concrete reality. Our grand privilege is to know God, to bring our lives into conformity with truth, which leads us to that coherence within. Christ has said, “If you hold to my teaching, you are really my disciples. Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.” In a world increasingly enslaved by error and alienation and seduced by images to believe a lie, how wonderful to be freed by the truth to Christ’s peace. The Scriptures tell us that the enemy of our souls is the father of all lies. He will do anything to keep us from coming to the truth because it is the most valuable thing in the world, and leads us to the source of all truth, to God alone.

To all of this the skeptic might say that such conclusions may be drawn only if the God of the Bible exists. To that I heartily answer, Absolutely! And on numerous campuses around the world it has been my thrilling privilege to present a defense for the existence of God, the reality of the resurrection, and the authority of the Scriptures unique in their splendor and convincing in the truth they proclaim. But let us not miss what the skeptic unwittingly surrenders by saying that all this could be true only if God exists. For implicit in that concession is the Law of Non-contradiction and the Law of Rational Inference, which exist only if truth exists. Truth, in turn, can exist only if there is an objective standard by which to measure it. That objective, unchanging absolute is God.

I heard a cute little story, growing up in India. It is the story of a little boy who had lots of pretty marbles. But he was constantly eyeing his sister’s bagful of candy. One day he said to her, “If you give me all your candy, I’ll give you all of my marbles.” She gave it much thought, and agreed to the trade. He took all her candy and went back to his room to get his marbles. But the more he admired them the more reluctant he became to give them all up. So he hid the best of them under his pillow and took the rest to her. That night, she slept soundly, while he tossed and turned restlessly, unable to sleep and thinking, “I wonder if she gave me all the candy?”

I have often wondered, when I see our angry culture claiming that God has not given us enough evidence, if it is not the veiled restlessness of lives that live in doubt because of their own duplicity. The battle in our time is posed as one of the intellect, in the assertion that truth is unknowable. But that may be only a veneer for the real battle, that of the heart.

Ravi Zacharias is founder and chairman of the board of Ravi Zacharias International Ministries.

Morning     “Do as thou hast said.”     2 Samuel 7:25

God’s promises were never meant to be thrown aside as waste paper; he intended

that they should be used. God’s gold is not miser’s money, but is minted to be

traded with. Nothing pleases our Lord better than to see his promises put in

circulation; he loves to see his children bring them up to him, and say, “Lord,

do as thou hast said.” We glorify God when we plead his promises. Do you think

that God will be any the poorer for giving you the riches he has promised? Do

you dream that he will be any the less holy for giving holiness to you? Do you

imagine he will be any the less pure for washing you from your sins? He has said

“Come now, and let us reason together, saith the Lord: though your

sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like

crimson, they shall be as wool.” Faith lays hold upon the promise of pardon, and

it does not delay, saying, “This is a precious promise, I wonder if it be true?”

but it goes straight to the throne with it, and pleads, “Lord, here is the

promise, Do as thou hast said.'” Our Lord replies, “Be it unto thee even as thou

wilt.” When a Christian grasps a promise, if he does not take it to God, he

dishonours him; but when he hastens to the throne of grace, and cries, “Lord, I

have nothing to recommend me but this, Thou hast said it;'” then his desire

shall be granted. Our heavenly Banker delights to cash his own notes.

Never let the promise rust. Draw the sword of promise out of its scabbard, and

use it with holy violence. Think not that God will be troubled by your

importunately reminding him of his promises. He loves to hear the loud outcries

of needy souls. It is his delight to bestow favours. He is more ready to hear

than you are to ask. The sun is not weary of shining, nor the fountain of

flowing. It is God’s nature to keep his promises; therefore go at once to the

throne with “Do as thou hast said.”

Evening    “But I give myself unto prayer.”     Psalm 109:4

Lying tongues were busy against the reputation of David, but he did not defend

himself; he moved the case into a higher court, and pleaded before the great

King himself. Prayer is the safest method of replying to words of hatred. The

Psalmist prayed in no cold-hearted manner, he gave himself to the

exercise–threw his whole soul and heart into it–straining every sinew and

muscle, as Jacob did when wrestling with the angel. Thus, and thus only, shall

any of us speed at the throne of grace. As a shadow has no power because there

is no substance in it, even so that supplication, in which a man’s proper self

is not thoroughly present in agonizing earnestness and vehement desire, is

utterly   ineffectual, for it lacks that which would give it force. “Fervent prayer,”

says an old divine, “like a cannon planted at the gates of heaven, makes them

fly open.” The common fault with the most of us is our readiness to yield to

distractions. Our thoughts go roving hither and thither, and we make little

progress towards our desired end. Like quicksilver our mind will not hold

together, but rolls off this way and that. How great an evil this is! It injures

us, and what is worse, it insults our God. What should we think of a petitioner,

if, while having an audience with a prince, he should be playing with a feather

or catching a fly?

Continuance and perseverance are intended in the expression of our text. David

did not cry once, and then relapse into silence; his holy clamour was continued

till it brought down the blessing. Prayer must not be our chance work, but our

daily business, our habit and vocation. As artists give themselves to their

models, and poets to their classical pursuits, so must we addict ourselves to

prayer. We must be immersed in prayer as in our element, and so pray without

ceasing. Lord, teach us so to pray that we may be more and more prevalent in

supplication.

Consider my affliction and my trouble, and forgive all my sins.    Psalms 25:18

It is good for us when prayers about our sorrows are linked with pleas concerning our sins—when, being under God’s hand, we do not focus exclusively on our pain, but remember our sins against God. It is also good to take both sorrow and sin to the same place. It was to God that David carried his sorrow: It was to God that David confessed his sin.

Notice, then, we must take our sorrows to God. Even your little sorrows you may cast upon God, for He counts the hairs of your head; and your great sorrows you may commit to Him, for He holds the ocean in the hollow of His hand. Go to Him, whatever your present trouble may be, and you will find Him able and willing to relieve you. But we must take our sins to God too. We must carry them to the cross, that the blood may fall upon them, to purge away their guilt and to destroy their defiling power.

The special lesson of the text is this: we are to go to the Lord with sorrows and with sins in the right spirit. Note that all David asks concerning his sorrow is, “Consider my affliction and my trouble”; but the next petition is vastly more explicit, definite, decided, plain—”Forgive all my sins.”

Many sufferers would have reversed it: “Remove my affliction and my pain, and consider my sins.” But David does not; he cries, “Lord, when it comes to my affliction and my pain, I will not dictate to Your wisdom. Lord, look at them—I will leave them to You. I would like to have my pain removed, but do as You will. But as for my sins, Lord, I know what needs to happen—I must have them forgiven; I cannot endure to live under their curse for a moment.”

A Christian counts sorrow lighter in the scale than sin; he can bear to have troubles continue, but he cannot bear the burden of his transgressions.

The family reading plan for April 11, 2012

Proverbs 29 | 2 Thessalonians 3

1 Corinthians 1:17-31

From a worldly perspective, Christ’s death signaled His defeat. After all, dying in agony on a cross hardly seems like the path to victory. But it was! And He did it all for us. Because Jesus triumphed over death, we can be victorious in life. Just consider what He won for us by sacrificing Himself on the cross.

Our Eternal Salvation: The cross was the means of our salvation. Without it, we’d have no hope of heaven. If Christ hadn’t died in our place, we’d have to stand before God and receive the just punishment for every sin we’ve ever committed.

Power over Sin: Jesus not only paid the penalty for our sin; He also brought us present victory over it. When He was crucified, our old sinful nature died with Him (Rom. 6:6). The power of the “flesh” was broken, and Jesus now lives His triumphant life through us. That means we are no longer enslaved to sin and can choose obedience to God.

Defeat of Satan: At the crucifixion, the list of decrees against us was nailed to the cross, and the Devil lost his power over our lives (Col. 2:13-15). None of his accusations can stick, because God holds nothing against us anymore. And now every time we yield to the Spirit within us, Satan is defeated once again.

Christ met all our needs on the cross. By making us a part of His family, He gave us a sense of belonging. When He died in our place, He affirmed our value. And by coming to live His life through each believer, He gives us the ability to live a victorious, obedient life

There is a great amount of anticipation leading up to Easter Sunday. Even for those who are “Christmas and Easter” church-goers or for those who simply sit at home and dream of Easter baskets, chocolate rabbits, and colored eggs, anticipating Easter, on the one hand, is like waiting for the door to finally be unlocked, unhinged, and opened onto a verdant spring meadow. On the other hand, Easter is stepping out onto that meadow and closing the door behind on the long, cold, dreary winter.

Yet, for many, the day comes and goes and then what? Easter is over again until next year. For many, winter still hovers above and the grey of death has not given way to the springtime. The candy is eaten, the brunches are over, and everything seems to return to normal. All that anticipation ends in just one day—with grand celebrations and powerful sermons, and perhaps with even a first playful roll in the springtime grass—and then it’s over. Or is it?

The celebration of Easter is insignificant if the celebrations do not point to the continuing reality of the risen one. Indeed, in many church traditions, the season of Eastertide, which lasts until Pentecost, asks this very question: How do we perceive the continuing presence of the risen Lord in our reality? Indeed, how do we? Is it simply the annual remembrance of a historic event from long ago?

If we’re honest, many of us do wonder what difference the resurrection has made in the practical realities of our lives. We still argue with our spouses and loved ones; we still have children who go their own way. We have difficulties at work or at school. We still see a world so broken by warfare, selfish greed, oppression and sin. Like the two men on the road to Emmaus recounting the events surrounding Jesus, perhaps we wonder aloud at what we hoped Christ would be.(1) Things seem pretty much as they were before Easter Sunday, and the reality of our same old lives still clamor for redemption.

This is often the way we feel if we have only understood resurrection as an event long past that only speaks to a future yet to come. We feel this way if we do not connect Jesus’s prayer for God’s will to be done “on earth as it is in heaven” with the reality of the cry, “He is risen, as he said.” The glimpse into the kingdom of God that we get in the life and ministry of Jesus is ratified through the resurrection. New creation, new life, resurrected living is now a possibility for those who follow Jesus.

The risen Jesus told his followers, “As the Father has sent me, I also send you.” Jesus’s resurrection is not a promise for escape from the world or a life free from trouble, but rather it commissions those who would remember his resurrection to be his “raising” agents in the world. He sends us out with the extraordinary news that the dead can be raised to new life for death and evil do not have the last word! And as we begin to live in light of the resurrection, we can gain insight into its significance for the practical realities of everyday lives. As N.T. Wright has concluded: “Jesus is raised, so he is the Messiah, and therefore he is the world’s true Lord; Jesus is raised, so God’s new creation has begun—and we, his followers, have a job to do! Jesus is raised, so we must act as his heralds, announcing his lordship to the entire world, making his kingdom come on earth as in heaven.”(2)

We are sent out beyond Easter Sunday into Eastertide because everything has changed.

Margaret ManningMargaret Manning is a member of the speaking and writing team at Ravi Zacharias International Ministries in Seattle, Washington. 

(1) Luke 24:21a.
(2) N.T. Wright, Surprised By Hope (New York: Harper Collins, 2008), 56.

Morning    “I am poured out like water, and all my bones are out of joint.”

Psalm 22:14

Did earth or heaven ever behold a sadder spectacle of woe! In soul and body, our

Lord felt himself to be weak as water poured upon the ground. The placing of the

cross in its socket had shaken him with great violence, had strained all the

ligaments, pained every nerve, and more or less dislocated all his bones.

Burdened with his own weight, the august sufferer felt the strain increasing

every moment of those six long hours. His sense of faintness and general

weakness were overpowering; while to his own consciousness he became nothing but

a mass of misery and swooning sickness. When Daniel saw the great vision, he

thus describes his sensations, “There remained no strength in me, for my

vigour was turned into corruption, and I retained no strength:” how much more

faint must have been our greater Prophet when he saw the dread vision of the

wrath of God, and felt it in his own soul! To us, sensations such as our Lord

endured would have been insupportable, and kind unconsciousness would have come

to our rescue; but in his case, he was wounded, and felt the sword; he drained

the cup and tasted every drop.

“O King of Grief! (a title strange, yet true

To thee of all kings only due)

O King of Wounds! how shall I grieve for thee,

Who in all grief preventest me!”

As we kneel before our now ascended Saviour’s throne, let us remember well the

way by which he prepared it as a throne of grace for us; let us in spirit drink

of his cup, that we may be strengthened for our hour of heaviness whenever it

may come. In his natural body every member suffered, and so must it be in the

spiritual; but as out of all his griefs and woes his body came forth uninjured

to glory and power, even so shall his mystical body come through the furnace

with not so much as the smell of fire upon it.

Evening   “Look upon mine affliction and my pain; and forgive all my sins.”

Psalm 25:18

It is well for us when prayers about our sorrows are linked with pleas

concerning our sins–when, being under God’s hand, we are not wholly taken up

with our pain, but remember our offences against God. It is well, also, to take

both sorrow and sin to the same place. It was to God that David carried his

sorrow: it was to God that David confessed his sin. Observe, then, we must take

our sorrows to God. Even your little sorrows you may roll upon God, for he

counteth the hairs of your head; and your great sorrows you may commit to him,

for he holdeth the ocean in the hollow of his hand. Go to him, whatever your

present trouble may be, and you shall find him able and willing to relieve you.

But

we must take our sins to God too. We must carry them to the cross, that the

blood may fall upon them, to purge away their guilt, and to destroy their

defiling power.

The special lesson of the text is this:–that we are to go to the Lord with

sorrows and with sins in the right spirit. Note that all David asks concerning

his sorrow is, “Look upon mine affliction and my pain;” but the next petition is

vastly more express, definite, decided, plain–“Forgive all my sins.” Many

sufferers would have put it, “Remove my affliction and my pain, and look at my

sins.” But David does not say so; he cries, “Lord, as for my affliction and my

pain, I will not dictate to thy wisdom. Lord, look at them, I will leave them to

thee, I should be glad to have my pain removed, but do as thou wilt; but as for

my sins, Lord, I know what I want with them; I must have them

forgiven; I cannot endure to lie under their curse for a moment.” A Christian

counts sorrow lighter in the scale than sin; he can bear that his troubles

should continue, but he cannot support the burden of his transgressions.

For this very night there stood before me an angel of the God to whom I belong.

Acts 27:23

Image BlockedStorms and darkness, combined with imminent risk of shipwreck, had brought the crew of the vessel into a sorry predicament; only one man among them remained perfectly calm, and by his word the rest were reassured. Paul was the only man who had enough heart to say, “I urge you to take heart.” There were veteran Roman soldiers on board, and brave sailors, but their poor Jewish prisoner had more spirit than all of them. He had a secret Friend who kept his courage up. The Lord Jesus sent a heavenly messenger to whisper words of comfort in Paul’s ear, and as a result his face shone, and he spoke like a man at ease.

If we fear the Lord, we may look for His timely intervention when our case is at its worst. Angels are not kept from us by storms or hindered by darkness. Seraphs do not think it is beneath them to visit the poorest of the heavenly family. If angels’ visits are few and far between at ordinary times, they will be frequent in our nights of tempest and storm. Friends may leave us when we are under pressure, but our awareness of the members of the angelic world will be far more apparent. Strengthened by loving words brought to us from the throne via Jacob’s ladder, we will be able to do daring feats.

Dear reader, are you facing an hour of distress? Then ask for particular help. Jesus is the angel of the covenant, and if you earnestly seek His presence, it will not be denied. The encouragement which that presence brings will be remembered by those who, like Paul, have had the angel of God standing by them in a night of storm, when anchors slipped and shipwreck threatened.

O angel of my God, be near,

Amid the darkness hush my fear;

Loud roars the wild tempestuous sea,

Thy presence, Lord, shall comfort me.

The family reading plan for April 10, 2012

Proverbs 28 | 2 Thessalonians 2