Our heavenly Father is interested in every detail of our life. If we want Him to work in a particular area–whether relationships, finances, vocation, habits, or something else–we must be willing to let go and give over to Him whatever He asks of us.

We may think we have no attachments that come between us and the Lord, but He knows our hearts. One Sunday as I was about to preach a sermon along these lines, He showed me something I hadn’t yet taken care of. I realized that I needed to deal with it, or else I wouldn’t be able to preach the sermon. So I was glad when the choir’s song took a while, because I had time to come to the place of being able to say, “Lord, if that’s what You desire, I want to commit it to You. You have the right to claim it at any time, so it’s Yours right now.”

It’s difficult to be completely obedient if we’re holding onto something too tightly. The Lord wants our attachment to be exclusively to Him so we can live unswayed by the world. You may have multitudes of things that God has blessed you with, but the moment any of it has a hold on you, His work in your life will be blocked. But when you open your hands, gripping nothing, you will be totally free as the Holy Spirit’s power flows through you.

Is there anything you feel you could never give up? Think about whatever captivates you, and honestly consider whether it also holds you captive. I challenge you to release that relationship or situation to the Lord right now so He can give you victory and the freedom you’ve been craving.

In his clever telling of The Great Divorce, C.S. Lewis describes a place called the “Afterworld” by means of a narrator who is on a bus ride through heaven and hell.  Along the way, he meets a multitude of supernatural beings.  Observing several conversations, the narrator is staggered to find those who are so insistent about what the love of God looks like that their imaginations forbid them from recognizing it as it truly is.     

The Gospel of Luke similarly recounts a story about two people walking along the road to Emmaus. As they walked, they spoke about events that both deeply troubled and genuinely puzzled them. Jesus of Nazareth, whom they had hoped to be the one that God had promised, the deliverer Israel, had been crucified just three days earlier. And complicating matters, that very morning some women came and told them that the tomb was empty and that Jesus was alive. As they walked, their heads bowed heavily with grief, their hearts and minds were tangled with confusion. Jesus himself joined them on their journey. But they did not recognize him. 

 There are certain hopes in each of our lives that orient everything. Our means of imagining these hopes provide a sense of coherence for plaguing questions. But if we come to a place where that hope seems to let us down, it may have been a hope that was not intended to hold such authority. Or, the hope is worthwhile but maybe our imagination is getting in the way.

 The disciples’ passionate hope in Jesus was visibly deflated because their expectations acted as thorns. They did not imagine that the one who would deliver Israel could fall in any way. They could not imagine a messiah who would suffer. Moreover, not only was Jesus betrayed and sentenced to suffer at the hands of men, he was crucified—a death reserved for criminals—a death which symbolized the curse of God. And while they believed in Christ’s work and word, they knew that death had the final word. How often I have reacted similarly, finding the law of nature, the law of returns, the law of unintended consequences the last authority. Most of us can even imagine how reasonable this seems.

 The disciples’ imagination of what could and could not happen so ordered their sense of reality, that they were even blinded from the presence of Jesus in their midst as they imagined all of these events together. Their hope in him was accurate; it was their expectation of that hope that blurred their vision and left them in the murky waters of an incoherent mess.   

 When the weary travelers reached their destination, they sat down with their fellow traveler and broke bread together. And Luke reports that at that moment of nourishing their bodies, their minds were opened too, and finally they recognized the one among them. 

 Today many of us travel along countless roads of life, maybe even discussing hope and disappointment, points of insight and confusion along the way. The Christian traveler offers a curious perspective. Hope in Christ is recognizing the reality of his presence even when we may least expect him, when we can’t imagine how he could appear. Perhaps one day we, too, will ask as the disciples did that day. Were not our hearts burning within us while he was with us on the road?

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

Morning “Thou whom my soul loveth.” / Song of Solomon 1:7

It is well to be able, without any “if” or “but,” to say of the Lord
Jesus–“Thou whom my soul loveth.” Many can only say of Jesus that they hope
they love him; they trust they love him; but only a poor and shallow
experience will be content to stay here. No one ought to give any rest to his
spirit till he feels quite sure about a matter of such vital importance. We
ought not to be satisfied with a superficial hope that Jesus loves us, and
with a bare trust that we love him. The old saints did not generally speak
with “buts,” and “ifs,” and “hopes,” and “trusts,” but they spoke positively
and plainly. “I know whom I have believed,” saith Paul. “I know that my
Redeemer liveth,” saith Job. Get positive knowledge of your love of Jesus, and
be not satisfied till you can speak of your interest in him as a reality,
which you have made sure by having received the witness of the Holy Spirit,
and his seal upon your soul by faith.

True love to Christ is in every case the Holy Spirit’s work, and must be
wrought in the heart by him. He is the efficient cause of it; but the logical
reason why we love Jesus lies in himself. Why do we love Jesus? Because he
first loved us. Why do we love Jesus? Because he “gave himself for us.” We
have life through his death; we have peace through his blood. Though he was
rich, yet for our sakes he became poor. Why do we love Jesus? Because of the
excellency of his person. We are filled with a sense of his beauty! an
admiration of his charms! a consciousness of his infinite perfection! His
greatness, goodness, and loveliness, in one resplendent ray, combine to
enchant the soul till it is so ravished that it exclaims, “Yea, he is
altogether lovely.” Blessed love this–a love which binds the heart with
chains more soft than silk, and yet more firm than adamant!

Evening “The Lord trieth the righteous.” / Psalm 11:5

All events are under the control of Providence; consequently all the trials of
our outward life are traceable at once to the great First Cause. Out of the
golden gate of God’s ordinance the armies of trial march forth in array, clad
in their iron armour, and armed with weapons of war. All providences are doors
to trial. Even our mercies, like roses, have their thorns. Men may be drowned
in seas of prosperity as well as in rivers of affliction. Our mountains are
not too high, and our valleys are not too low for temptations: trials lurk on
all roads. Everywhere, above and beneath, we are beset and surrounded with
dangers. Yet no shower falls unpermitted from the threatening cloud; every
drop has its order ere it hastens to the earth. The trials which come from God
are sent to prove and strengthen our graces, and so at once to illustrate the
power of divine grace, to test the genuineness of our virtues, and to add to
their energy. Our Lord in his infinite wisdom and superabundant love, sets so
high a value upon his people’s faith that he will not screen them from those
trials by which faith is strengthened. You would never have possessed the
precious faith which now supports you if the trial of your faith had not been
like unto fire. You are a tree that never would have rooted so well if the
wind had not rocked you to and fro, and made you take firm hold upon the
precious truths of the covenant grace. Worldly ease is a great foe to faith;
it loosens the joints of holy valour, and snaps the sinews of sacred courage.
The balloon never rises until the cords are cut; affliction doth this sharp
service for believing souls. While the wheat sleeps comfortably in the husk it
is useless to man, it must be threshed out of its resting place before its
value can be known. Thus it is well that Jehovah trieth the righteous, for it
causeth them to grow rich towards God.

The Lord tests the righteous. Psalm 11:5

 All events are under the control of providence; consequently all the trials of our outward life are ultimately traceable to God our Father. Out of the golden gate of God’s ordinance the armies of trial march in rank, clad in their iron armor and armed with weapons of war. All providences are doors to testing. Even our mercies, like roses, have their thorns. Men may be drowned in prosperous seas as easily as in rivers of affliction. Our mountains are not too high, and our valleys are not too low for temptations: Trials lurk at every turn. Everywhere, above and below, we are confronted and surrounded with danger. Still no shower falls unpermitted from the threatening cloud; every drop has its order before it arrives on the earth.

The trials that come from God are sent to prove and strengthen our graces and immediately illustrate the power of divine grace, to test the genuineness of our virtues and to add to their energy. Our Lord in His infinite wisdom and superabundant love sets such a high value upon His people’s faith that He will not protect them from those trials by which faith is strengthened. You would never have possessed the precious faith that now supports you if the trial of your faith had not put you through the fire. You are a tree that never would have rooted as well if the wind had not rocked you to and fro and made you take a firm hold upon the precious truths of God’s gracious covenant.

Worldly ease is a great enemy to faith; it loosens the joints of holy zeal and snaps the sinews of sacred courage. The balloon never rises until the cords are cut; affliction provides this service for believing souls. While the wheat sleeps comfortably in the husk, it is useless to us; it must be threshed out of its resting place before its value can be known. Thus it is good that the Lord tests the righteous, for it causes them to grow rich toward God.

Family Reading Plan   Ezekiel 6   Psalm 44