Breaking Down the Faith Barrier

Exodus 4:1-13

A faith barrier is made up of attitudes that short-circuit our trust and prevent us from obeying the Lord’s will. A negative self-image can hinder us in this way, as can ignorance of God’s character and promises. Three other attitudes can also trip us up: doubt, feelings of inadequacy, and fear of failure.

Moses doubted that the Israelites would believe he had been chosen by the Lord to lead them. But God graciously provided reassurance–in the form of evidence that He could accomplish everything He’d promised (Ex. 4:1-5). When doubt invades our minds, it can be overcome with diligent study of Scripture and persistent prayer, which will dislodge uncertainty and replace it with biblical truth.

Moses wasn’t eloquent, and a perceived lack of skill left him feeling inadequate for the job–he was afraid trying to speak would make him stumble. God patiently reassured him of divine help in that task. The Lord often chooses unlikely people to carry out His plan because He looks at the heart, not human qualifications (1 Sam. 16:7). He can overcome all our inadequacies.

Sadly, Moses did not embrace what God promised but instead asked to be relieved of the assignment. A fear of failure can prevent us from saying yes to the Lord.

Carrying out God’s will requires a heart that trusts Him, a soul that steps out in obedience, and a mind that leaves success or failure to Him. As we break down the faith barrier, we will be able to see the evidence of God’s presence and power–and experience the joy of obedience.

What Kind of Hero?

 Though I am not by any stretch of the imagination a fan of video games, articles on the subject from time to time catch my eye. I was intrigued once by the descriptions given by a video game creator who developed a game that casts the player as a character in a world of choices. The game is now a few years old, but the character customization system it employs is still reasonably unique. It is based on the idea that everything the character does will affect him. Accordingly, “What kind of hero were you?” was the producer’s favorite question as promoted the game.

 In the world of video games, it is fair to say that choices are usually made up front about the kind of character you want to be—villain, hero, explorer. Whether you are going to be a saint or a hooligan is decided in a vacuum—with one choice instead of many—and is largely unaffected by the environment and experiences of the character. In more ways than one, it is an escape from real life.

 But this designer has given the escape a different twist.He set out to create a video game in which choices are made with a similar pace, intricacy, and consequence as real life. “I always thought as a designer, ‘Who am I to tell you what type of character you should be?'” he said. In a plot reminiscent of Oscar Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian Gray, a player’s moral decisions affect the fate—even the appearance—of the hero. Players become the kind of character their choices produce, and the world around them is influenced accordingly. Moreover, the simulated world is full of the sort of temptations that lure dark sides and influence decisions: If you could get away with stealing would you? What if the money received from a bribe seemed more useful than the honor gained from refusing it? If you knew every decision would ultimately affect your character would it make you behave respectably or would you eventually give in? 

 The world described in this game sets an interesting backdrop for viewing the ancient writings of 1 and 2 Kings, two books that chronicle the storied lives of the many kings of Israel. I imagine the writer pausing as each king was introduced to ask the question: “What kind of a hero were you?” In the case of these rulers, more often than not, the question is answered unfavorably.

 In fact, the books read like a relentless encyclopedia of failures, providing the official documentation of the moral, political, and national collapses of Israel and Judah. “Joram son of Ahab became king of Israel in Samaria in the eighteenth year of Jehoshaphat king of Judah, and he reigned twelve years. He did evil in the eyes of the LORD, but… he got rid of the sacred stone of Baal that his father had made” (2 Kings 3:1-2). Again and again, the same phrase follows the name of a king: “He did what was evil in the eyes of the LORD.”    

 In fact, the exposition of five hundred years and more than forty kings seems to tirelessly utter disappointment. Even the stories of kings who did what was “pleasing in the eyes of the LORD” do not shout of success. While they made steps closer to God than many of their successors, they never seemed to close the gap. “[Uzziah] did what was right in the eyes of the LORD, just as his father Amaziah had done.  The high places, however, were not removed; the people continued to offer sacrifices and burn incense there” (2 Kings 15:3-4).         

 Each story articulates something of the nature of life. We do not choose the kind of person we want to be in a vacuum, anymore than we make that decision only once. These kings made choices that were influenced by mood and politics, temptations and trials, by the kings before them, and by battles that shook their kingdoms and their pride. They were touched by greed and jealousy, conviction and consequence. They were shaped by the presence of God and the genuineness with which they cried out to God—as are we today.    

 There is something about seeing a life outlined in one paragraph—an epitaph, a memory, an obituary—that rouses our own to perspective. Through years of flawed and sinful leaders, years where corruption reigned and a great number of people failed miserably, the hopeful purposes of God still moved forth. Through generations who sought after God and generations who turned their backs on God, a divine hand was yet at work among all of them. The time we face today is full of choices, but so it is filled with a God who is faithful though we are not.

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

 

Charles Spurgeon’s “Morning and Evening.”

Morning  “Fellow citizens with the saints.” / Ephesians 2:19

 What is meant by our being citizens in heaven? It means that we are under

heaven’s government. Christ the king of heaven reigns in our hearts; our daily

prayer is, “Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.” The proclamations

issued from the throne of glory are freely received by us: the decrees of the

Great King we cheerfully obey. Then as citizens of the New Jerusalem, we share

heaven’s honours. The glory which belongs to beatified saints belongs to us,

for we are already sons of God, already princes of the blood imperial; already

we wear the spotless robe of Jesus’ righteousness; already we have angels for

our servitors, saints for our companions, Christ for our Brother, God for our

Father, and a crown of immortality for our reward. We share the honours of

citizenship, for we have come to the general assembly and Church of the

first-born whose names are written in heaven. As citizens, we have common

rights to all the property of heaven. Ours are its gates of pearl and walls of

chrysolite; ours the azure light of the city that needs no candle nor light of

the sun; ours the river of the water of life, and the twelve manner of fruits

which grow on the trees planted on the banks thereof; there is nought in

heaven that belongeth not to us. “Things present, or things to come,” all are

ours. Also as citizens of heaven we enjoy its delights. Do they there rejoice

over sinners that repent–prodigals that have returned? So do we. Do they

chant the glories of triumphant grace? We do the same. Do they cast their

crowns at Jesus’ feet? Such honours as we have we cast there too. Are they

charmed with his smile? It is not less sweet to us who dwell below. Do they

look forward, waiting for his second advent? We also look and long for his

appearing. If, then, we are thus citizens of heaven, let our walk and actions

be consistent with our high dignity.

 

Evening “And the evening and the morning were the first day.” / Genesis 1:5

 The evening was “darkness” and the morning was “light,” and yet the two

together are called by the name that is given to the light alone! This is

somewhat remarkable, but it has an exact analogy in spiritual experience. In

every believer there is darkness and light, and yet he is not to be named a

sinner because there is sin in him, but he is to be named a saint because he

possesses some degree of holiness. This will be a most comforting thought to

those who are mourning their infirmities, and who ask, “Can I be a child of

God while there is so much darkness in me?” Yes; for you, like the day, take

not your name from the evening, but from the morning; and you are spoken of in

the word of God as if you were even now perfectly holy as you will be soon.

You are called the child of light, though there is darkness in you still. You

are named after what is the predominating quality in the sight of God, which

will one day be the only principle remaining. Observe that the evening comes

first. Naturally we are darkness first in order of time, and the gloom is

often first in our mournful apprehension, driving us to cry out in deep

humiliation, “God be merciful to me, a sinner.” The place of the morning is

second, it dawns when grace overcomes nature. It is a blessed aphorism of John

Bunyan, “That which is last, lasts forever.” That which is first, yields in

due season to the last; but nothing comes after the last. So that though you

are naturally darkness, when once you become light in the Lord, there is no

evening to follow; “thy sun shall no more go down.” The first day in this life

is an evening and a morning; but the second day, when we shall be with God,

forever, shall be a day with no evening, but one, sacred, high, eternal noon.

An Internal Disagreement

And God separated the light from the darkness.  Genesis 1:4 

 A believer has two principles at work within him. In his natural estate he was subject to one principle only, which was darkness; now light has entered, and the two principles disagree. Consider the apostle Paul’s words in the seventh chapter of Romans: “I find it to be a law that when I want to do right, evil lies close at hand. For I delight in the law of God, in my inner being, but I see in my members another law waging war against the law of my mind and making me captive to the law of sin that dwells in my members.”1 How is this state of things occasioned? “God separated the light from the darkness.” Darkness, by itself, is quiet and undisturbed, but when the Lord sends in light, there is a conflict, for the one is in opposition to the other, a conflict that will never end until the believer is altogether light in the Lord.

If there is a division inside the individual Christian, there is certain to be a division outside. As soon as the Lord gives light to any man, he proceeds to separate himself from the darkness around; he withdraws from a merely worldly religion of outward ceremony, for nothing short of the Gospel of Christ will now satisfy him, and he removes himself from worldly society and frivolous amusements and seeks the company of the saints, for “We know that we have passed out of death into life, because we love the brothers.”2

The light gathers to itself, and the darkness to itself. What God has separated, let us never try to unite; but as Christ went outside the camp, bearing His reproach, let us come out from the ungodly and be a special people. He was holy, harmless, undefiled, separate from sinners; and as He was, so we are to be nonconformists to the world, dissenting from all sin, and distinguished from the rest of mankind by our likeness to our Master.

1Romans 7:21-23 21 John 3:14

Family Reading Plan Jeremiah 5Matthew 19