Romans 12:2

Today’s verse outlines the commitment and steps necessary in developing a godly lifestyle. Paul was urgently warning believers not to be conformed to the world. Our susceptibility to compromise is one of the greatest dangers in the church today.

Through ungodly relationships and the impact of media, we’re being influenced by people who are not following God’s ways. Our society tells us to to put self first, take what we want, protect our rights, and promote our own interests above others’. In contrast, Jesus said that our heavenly Father will provide what we truly need (Phil. 4:19), we are to deny self and follow Him (Luke 9:23), and the humble–not the proud–shall receive honor (James 4:10). Conformity to the world’s ideals will lead us away from God.

At the same time, Paul urged us to pursue godly transformation of our minds: to set our thoughts on things above (Col. 3:2) and to focus on what is true, right, pure, and admirable (Phil. 4:8). Adopting a Christian worldview will lead to Christlike actions. It requires making adjustments in how we view life until our thoughts line up with Scripture. We must also protect our minds with biblical truth and surround ourselves with mature believers who can warn us when we start to stray.

Ask yourself, Am I focusing on what is important to the Lord?…avoiding compromise?…making a conscious effort to adhere to biblical truth?… demonstrating a pattern of godly transformation? Let God’s Holy Spirit empower you to make the changes necessary to be more like Christ.

Some time ago my wife, Margie, returned from an errand visibly shaken by a heartrending conversation she had experienced. She was about the very simple task of selecting a picture and a frame when a dialogue began with the owner of the shop. When Margie said that she would like a scene with children in it the woman quite casually asked if the people for whom the picture was being purchased had any children of their own. “No,” replied my wife, “but that is not by their choice.” There was a momentary pause. Suddenly, like a hydrant uncorked, a question burst with unveiled hostility from the other woman’s lips: “Have you ever lost a child?” Margie was somewhat taken aback and immediately sensed that a terrible tragedy probably lurked behind the abrupt question.

The conversation had obviously taken an unsettling turn. But even at that she was not prepared for the flood of emotion and anger that was yet to follow, from this one who was still a stranger. The sorry tale quickly unfolded. The woman proceeded to speak of the two children she had lost, each loss carrying a heartache all its own. “Now,” she added, “I am standing by watching my sister as she is about to lose her child.” There was no masking of her bitterness and no hesitancy about where to ascribe the blame for these tragedies. Unable to utter anything that would alleviate the pain of this gaping wound in the woman’s heart, my wife began to say, “I am sorry,” when she was interrupted with a stern rebuke, “Don’t say anything!”  She finally managed to be heard just long enough to say in parting, “I’ll be praying for you through this difficult time.” But even that brought a crisp rejoinder, “Don’t bother.”

Margie returned to her car and just wept out of shock and longing to reach out to this broken life. Even more, ever since that conversation she has carried with her an unshakable mental picture of a woman’s face whose every muscle contorted with anger and anguish—at once seeking a touch yet holding back, yearning for consolation but silencing anyone who sought to help, shoving at people along the way to get to God. Strangely, this episode spawned a friendship and we have had the wonderful privilege of getting close to her and of praying with her in our home. We have even felt her embrace of gratitude as she has tried in numerous ways to say, “Thank you.” But through this all she has represented to us a symbol of smothered cries, genuine and well thought through, and of a search for answers that need time before that anger is overcome by trust, and anguish gives way to contentment.

Of all the stories in the Scriptures, none so reflects those varied needs as the story of the woman at the well in her conversation with Jesus. In the fourth chapter of John’s Gospel we read of the encounter Jesus had with the Samaritan woman.  The disciples had left him to get a little rest while they went into town to buy some food.  When they returned they were astounded to see him talking to this Samaritan woman, but they were afraid to ask why he would talk to her or to question what prompted this curious familiarity.

The woman represented all that was oppressed or rejected in that society. She was a woman, not a man. She was a Samaritan burdened with ethnic rejection. She was discarded and broken from five failed marriages. She identified God with a particular location, not having the faintest clue how to reach this God. Was it possible to have any less self-esteem than in her fragmented world? Jesus began his tender yet determined task to dislodge her from the well-doctored and cosmetically dressed-up theological jargon she threw at him, so that she could voice the real cry of her heart.  Almost like peeling off the layers of an onion, he steadily moved her away from her own fears and prejudices, from her own schemes for self-preservation, from her own ploys for hiding her hurts, to the radiant and thrilling source of her greatest fulfillment, Christ himself. In short, he moved her from the abstract to the concrete, from the concrete to the proximate, from the proximate to the personal. She had come to find water for the thirst of her body. He fulfilled a greater thirst, that of her soul.

In the Psalms, David described himself as one wounded and crying in his bed at night. This same David spoke of the happiness that came when he took his cry to the Lord. With that same confidence, let us begin our journey to respond to the cries of the heart. We might be surprised to know how much bottled-up sentiment will be uncovered. When God speaks we will not respond by saying, “Don’t say a thing;” rather, we will be soothed by God’s touch and will rest in God’s comfort, knowing that God has bothered to hear our cries and to come near in our need.

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

Morning “I have seen servants upon horses, and princes walking as servants upon the

earth.”  Ecclesiastes 10:7

Upstarts frequently usurp the highest places, while the truly great pine in

obscurity. This is a riddle in providence whose solution will one day gladden

the hearts of the upright; but it is so common a fact, that none of us should

murmur if it should fall to our own lot. When our Lord was upon earth, although

he is the Prince of the kings of the earth, yet he walked the footpath of

weariness and service as the Servant of servants: what wonder is it if his

followers, who are princes of the blood, should also be looked down upon as

inferior and contemptible persons? The world is upside down, and therefore, the

first are last and the last first. See how the servile sons of Satan lord it in

the earth! What a high horse they ride! How they lift up their horn on high!

Haman is in the court, while Mordecai sits in the gate; David wanders on the

mountains, while Saul reigns in state; Elijah is complaining in the cave while

Jezebel is boasting in the palace; yet who would wish to take the places of the

proud rebels? and who, on the other hand, might not envy the despised saints?

When the wheel turns, those who are lowest rise, and the highest sink. Patience,

then, believer, eternity will right the wrongs of time.

 

Let us not fall into the error of letting our passions and carnal appetites ride

in triumph, while our nobler powers walk in the dust. Grace must reign as a

prince, and make the members of the body instruments of righteousness. The Holy

Spirit loves order, and he therefore sets our powers and faculties in due rank

and place, giving the highest room to those spiritual faculties which link us

with the great King; let us not disturb the divine arrangement, but ask for

grace that we may keep under our body and bring it into subjection. We were not

new created to allow our passions to rule over us, but that we, as kings, may

reign in Christ Jesus over the triple kingdom of spirit, soul, and

body, to the glory of God the Father.

 

Evening   “And he requested for himself that he might die.”    1 Kings 19:4

It was a remarkable thing that the man who was never to die, for whom God had

ordained an infinitely better lot, the man who should be carried to heaven in a

chariot of fire, and be translated, that he should not see death–should thus

pray, “Let me die, I am no better than my fathers.” We have here a memorable

proof that God does not always answer prayer in kind, though he always does in

effect. He gave Elias something better than that which he asked for, and thus

really heard and answered him. Strange was it that the lion-hearted Elijah

should be so depressed by Jezebel’s threat as to ask to die, and blessedly kind

was it on the part of our heavenly Father that he did not take his

desponding servant at his word. There is a limit to the doctrine of the prayer

of faith. We are not to expect that God will give us everything we choose to ask

for. We know that we sometimes ask, and do not receive, because we ask amiss. If

we ask for that which is not promised–if we run counter to the spirit which the

Lord would have us cultivate–if we ask contrary to his will, or to the decrees

of his providence–if we ask merely for the gratification of our own ease, and

without an eye to his glory, we must not expect that we shall receive. Yet, when

we ask in faith, nothing doubting, if we receive not the precise thing asked

for, we shall receive an equivalent, and more than an

equivalent, for it. As one remarks, “If the Lord does not pay in silver, he

will in gold; and if he does not pay in gold, he will in diamonds.” If he does

not give you precisely what you ask for, he will give you that which is

tantamount to it, and that which you will greatly rejoice to receive in lieu

thereof. Be then, dear reader, much in prayer, and make this evening a season of

earnest intercession, but take heed what you ask.

 

. . . later . . .   Hebrews 12:11

How happy are tested Christians, later. There is no deeper calm than that which follows the storm. Who has not rejoiced in clear shinings after rain?

Victorious banquets are for well-accomplished soldiers. After killing the lion we eat the honey; after climbing the Hill Difficulty,1 we sit down in the arbor to rest; after traversing the Valley of Humiliation, after fighting with Apollyon, the shining one appears, with the healing branch from the tree of life. Our sorrows, like the passing hulls of the ships upon the sea, leave a silver line of holy light behind them “later.” It is peace, sweet, deep peace, that follows the horrible turmoil that once reigned in our tormented, guilty souls.

Consider, then, the happy condition of a Christian! He has his best things last, and therefore in this world he receives his worst things first. But even his worst things are “later” good things, hard plowings yielding joyful harvests. Even now he grows rich by his losses, he rises by his falls, he lives by dying, and he becomes full by being emptied; if, then, his grievous afflictions yield him so much peaceable fruit in this life, what will be the full vintage of joy “later” in heaven? If his dark nights are as bright as the world’s days, what shall his days be? If even his starlight is more splendid than the sun, what must his sunlight be? If he can sing in a dungeon, how sweetly will he sing in heaven! If he can praise the Lord in the fires, how will he extol Him before the eternal throne! If evil be good to him now, what will the overflowing goodness of God be to him then?

Oh, blessed “later”! Who would not be a Christian? Who would not bear the present cross for the crown that comes afterwards? But here is work for patience, for the rest is not for today, nor the triumph for the present, but “later.” Wait, my soul, and let patience have her perfect work.

1Pilgrim’s Progress

The family reading plan for May 18, 2012

Isaiah 17 , 18 | 1 Peter 5

Romans 12:1

The apostle Paul lived in an age when sensuality, the pursuit of pleasure, and rebellion against the Lord were prevalent. In response, he wrote letters urging Christians not to follow in the ways of the world. Like those early believers, we are to pursue godliness by…

1. Presenting our bodies to God. Our total being–mind, will, emotions, personality, and physical body–are to be turned over to our heavenly Father (James 4:7a). Submitting ourselves to the Lord requires a definite decision to give Him control and a daily commitment to remain under His authority. By surrendering to Him, we will position ourselves for godly living.

 

1. Becoming living sacrifices. The Christian life is built around the concept of sacrifice. Jesus left the perfection of heaven to dwell among a sinful people so He might reconcile us to God. He offered up His life to make payment for our sins (1 John 3:16) and brought us into His family. As believers, we are to follow His example. Paul called it a living sacrifice, because it is ongoing–one that is repeated daily.

Life is full of options. Many decisions involve a choice between following God’s way or our own. Maturing Christians will increasingly sacrifice their own desires and embrace His will.

A life of godliness is characterized by a heart and mind bent toward the things of God. Although we will live imperfectly, our focus is to be on obeying His will and pleasing Him. Let’s commit to becoming more like Jesus, the One who willingly gave Himself to God as a sacrifice for us

One of the most publicized events of the last decade was the execution of a Texas woman who had been convicted of murdering two people 14 years earlier. During her time in prison, she became a Christian. The evident genuineness of her conversion elicited calls from all over the world to spare her life. Even the Pope pleaded with the Governor of Texas to intervene. In the end, those who sought justice for the crime she committed prevailed. With a lethal cocktail running through her veins, Karla Fay Tucker “coughed twice, let out a soft groan, and fell silent.”(1)

The debate raised by this case was gripping enough, but what I found to be most fascinating was the intense contest that was unfolding outside the premises where the execution was scheduled to be carried out. Both the proponents as well as opponents of the death penalty camped outside, each side trying to drown the other’s voices. The news of the execution was greeted by a boisterous cry of triumph from those who had so vehemently sought justice for the crime. Others were left wondering where, when, and how mercy applies when the life of an individual hangs in the balance.

This drama was a classic representation of the two most disparate poles of justice and mercy. How are the guilty to be spared in cases where absolute justice is administered? If there are no shortcuts, no bribes, and no turning of a blind eye against evil, what hope is there for those wedged between the jaws of justice? The tension between justice and mercy is a reality with which we all live, and depending on the circumstances, our hunger for vindication is only matched by our plea for mercy and forgiveness.

The biblical solution to this conundrum is uniquely ingenious in both logical and relational terms. It was at the Cross of Jesus where God’s justice was perfectly administered and his eternal mercy publicly displayed when God took upon Himself the punishment meant for the guilty. The perfect, sinless, infinitely just God devised the means whereby sinful, guilty human beings could be justly reconciled to God without an ounce of guilt being swept under the carpet. No other proposed means of liberation for humanity in the world even begins to address this dilemma.  The rhetorical force of the question posed by the author of Hebrews ought forever to haunt every seeker of justice, “How shall we escape if we neglect so great a salvation”?

Unfortunately, some stumble over the gospel of Christ even while incessantly seeking either justice or mercy in matters they deem themselves entitled to judge. When our sense of justice is threatened, we rarely hesitate to demand answers, whether the object of our wrath is a mere child or a perfect God. This is nowhere more evident than in attacks on the character of God based on his administration of justice, especially in the Old Testament.  But at the root of this reaction lies the failure to appreciate the full implications of what one really asks for when one demands justice.  If justice is to be absolutely served, the guilty cannot go unpunished.  The only recourse for the guilty is to seek mercy, and mercy cannot be demanded.

Old Testament saints harbored no illusions about God being subject to their standard of justice, for they were no strangers to his terrifying holiness and hence the gravity of sin. The fact that the Israelites were his chosen people did not keep them from facing the consequences of their own disobedience, as even a casual reading of the book of Lamentations will show. It was not without reason that the script writer for the motion picture Fiddler on the Roof, which chronicles the struggles of a Jewish family, has the lead character suggest that God choose other people the next time around.

Part of the reason why we are disinclined to recognize our own need for mercy may be due to the fact that our clamor for justice, however impassioned, is almost always skewed in our favor. Narrow indeed is the path to the dark recesses of our own hearts. But there the light of the gospel must shine, and our strong sense of justice demands that we agree with God’s assessment of our true condition. Nothing short of the kind of repentance that produces humble love within those who turn to Him can ever point humanity towards their identity and purpose.  Without a clear glimpse of our own sinfulness, not even God can measure up to our lopsided, self-righteous standards.

But if God is anything like the Scriptures say, then not only should we expect God to judge sin but we can also be confident that, in the end, no one will be able to find fault with his verdict. That is why Abraham was able to trust in God’s righteous judgment, even beyond the grave, when he chose to sacrifice Isaac at the behest of his Creator. He reasoned that God is able to raise the dead. Whenever we demand justice and obedience, we affirm the same standard that also condemns us. They are blessed indeed whose passion for justice is informed by the mercy of the Cross.

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

(1) Jesse Katz, “Texas Executes Born-Again Woman After Appeal Fails” LA Times, February 04, 1998.

Morning   “In him dwelleth all the fulness of the Godhead bodily. And ye are complete in  him.”

Colossians 2:9-10

All the attributes of Christ, as God and man, are at our disposal. All the

fulness of the Godhead, whatever that marvellous term may comprehend, is ours to

make us complete. He cannot endow us with the attributes of Deity; but he has

done all that can be done, for he has made even his divine power and Godhead

subservient to our salvation. His omnipotence, omniscience, omnipresence,

immutability and infallibility, are all combined for our defence. Arise,

believer, and behold the Lord Jesus yoking the whole of his divine Godhead to

the chariot of salvation! How vast his grace, how firm his faithfulness, how

unswerving his immutability, how infinite his power, how limitless his

knowledge! All these are by the Lord Jesus made the pillars of the temple of salvation; and

all, without diminution of their infinity, are covenanted to us as our perpetual

inheritance. The fathomless love of the Saviour’s heart is every drop of it

ours; every sinew in the arm of might, every jewel in the crown of majesty, the

immensity of divine knowledge, and the sternness of divine justice, all are

ours, and shall be employed for us. The whole of Christ, in his adorable

character as the Son of God, is by himself made over to us most richly to enjoy.

His wisdom is our direction, his knowledge our instruction, his power our

protection, his justice our surety, his love our comfort, his mercy our solace,

and his immutability our trust. He makes no reserve, but opens the recesses of

the Mount of God and bids us dig in its mines for the hidden treasures. “All,

all, all are yours,” saith he, “be ye satisfied with favour and full of the

goodness of the Lord.” Oh! how sweet thus to behold Jesus, and to call upon him

with the certain confidence that in seeking the interposition of his love or

power, we are but asking for that which he has already faithfully promised.

 

Evening   “Afterward.”   Hebrews 12:11

How happy are tried Christians, afterwards. No calm more deep than that which

succeeds a storm. Who has not rejoiced in clear shinings after rain? Victorious

banquets are for well-exercised soldiers. After killing the lion we eat the

honey; after climbing the Hill Difficulty, we sit down in the arbour to rest;

after traversing the Valley of Humiliation, after fighting with Apollyon, the

shining one appears, with the healing branch from the tree of life. Our sorrows,

like the passing keels of the vessels upon the sea, leave a silver line of holy

light behind them “afterwards.” It is peace, sweet, deep peace, which follows

the horrible turmoil which once reigned in our tormented, guilty

souls. See, then, the happy estate of a Christian! He has his best things last,

and he therefore in this world receives his worst things first. But even his

worst things are “afterward” good things, harsh ploughings yielding joyful

harvests. Even now he grows rich by his losses, he rises by his falls, he lives

by dying, and becomes full by being emptied; if, then, his grievous afflictions

yield him so much peaceable fruit in this life, what shall be the full vintage

of joy “afterwards” in heaven? If his dark nights are as bright as the world’s

days, what shall his days be? If even his starlight is more splendid than the

sun, what must his sunlight be? If he can sing in a dungeon, how

sweetly will he sing in heaven! If he can praise the Lord in the fires, how

will he extol him before the eternal throne! If evil be good to him now, what

will the overflowing goodness of God be to him then? Oh, blessed “afterward!”

Who would not be a Christian? Who would not bear the present cross for the crown

which cometh afterwards? But herein is work for patience, for the rest is not

for today, nor the triumph for the present, but “afterward.” Wait, O soul, and

let patience have her perfect work.

 

You are my servant, I have chosen you.   Isaiah 41:9

If we have received the grace of God in our hearts, its practical effect has been to make us God’s servants. We may be unfaithful servants, we certainly are unprofitable ones, but yet, blessed be His name, we are His servants, wearing His uniform, eating at His table, and obeying His commands. We were once the servants of sin, but He who made us free has now taken us into His family and taught us obedience to His will. We do not serve our Master perfectly, but we would if we could. As we hear God’s voice saying unto us, “You are My servant,” we can answer with David, “I am your servant. . . . You have loosed my bonds.”1

But the Lord calls us not only His servants, but His chosen ones—”I have chosen you.” We have not chosen Him first, but He has chosen us. If we are now God’s servants, it wasn’t always so; the change must be ascribed to sovereign grace. The eye of sovereignty singled us out, and the voice of unchanging grace declared, “I have loved you with an everlasting love.”2 Long before time began or space was created, God had written upon His heart the names of His elect people, had predestinated them to be conformed unto the image of His Son, and ordained them heirs of all the fullness of His love, His grace, and His glory.

What comfort is here! Having loved us for so long, will the Lord then reject us? He knew how stiff-necked we would be, He understood that our hearts were evil, and yet He made the choice. Our Savior is no fickle lover. He does not feel enchanted for a while with some gleams of beauty from His church’s eye and then afterwards reject her because of her unfaithfulness. No, He married her in old eternity; and He hates divorce! The eternal choice is a bond upon our gratitude and upon His faithfulness, which neither can disown.

1Psalm 116:16 2Jeremiah 31:3

The family reading plan for May 17, 2012

Isaiah 16 | 1 Peter 4