Encourage him.   Deuteronomy 1:38

God employs His people to encourage one another. He did not say to an angel, “Gabriel, My servant Joshua is about to lead My people into Canaan—go, encourage him.” God never performs unnecessary miracles. If His purposes can be accomplished by ordinary means, He will not use miraculous agencies. Gabriel would not have been half so well fitted for the work as Moses. A brother’s sympathy is more precious than an angel’s prestige. The swift-winged angel knew more about the Master’s desires than he did about the people’s needs. An angel had never experienced the difficult journey, nor faced the fiery serpents, nor had he led the stiff-necked multitude in the wilderness as Moses had done. We should be glad that God usually works for man by man. This forms a bond of brotherhood, and being mutually dependent on one another, we are united more completely into one family.

Brethren, take the text as God’s message to you. Work at helping others, and especially strive to encourage them. Talk warmly to the young and anxious inquirer; lovingly try to remove stumbling blocks out of his way. When you find a spark of grace in the heart, kneel down and blow it into a flame. Leave the young believer to discover the roughness of the road by stages, but tell him of the strength that is found in God, of the certainty of the promise, and of the benefits of communion with Christ.

Aim to comfort the sorrowful and to encourage the despondent. Speak a fitting word to the weary, and lift the spirits of those who are fearful to go on their way with gladness. God encourages you by His promises; Christ encourages you as He points to the heaven He has won for you; and the Spirit encourages you as He works in you to will and to do of His own purpose and pleasure. Imitate divine wisdom, and encourage others according to the Word this evening.

Family Reading Plan  Ezekiel 20  Psalm 67

 1 Corinthians 3:10-15

Scripture is very clear about the fact that wonderful benefits await believers who obey and bring glory to God. In Psalm 19, David wrote that there is great reward in keeping the Lord’s precepts (v. 11). What’s more, the promise of heavenly gifts comes straight from Jesus’ mouth in the Sermon on the Mount (Matt. 5:12).

Reread today’s passage, and notice Paul’s assertion that he and Apollos would each receive rewards for their service to the Corinthians (v. 8). God neither offers group prizes nor reserves treasure only for those “in ministry.” We are all ministers of the gospel, whose good works store up heavenly treasure. God sees our Spirit-led decisions and actions as worthy of reward. You may not feel particularly important or essential in this big world, but your every action and word matter to God. What He values is the believer yielding to the Holy Spirit’s direction.

The motivation behind our actions is important too–sometimes good works are done for the wrong reasons. For example, Jesus revealed that the Pharisees were fasting, not to please God but to gain attention (Matt. 6:16). When a person seeks the applause of men, their adulation is his sole reward. While that may feel good for a while, flattery is not eternal.

I suspect we’ll all shed tears of regret over the righteous acts we neglected or the work we did for personal glory. We will realize how much more we could have done for the Lord. But then He will dry our tears and grant our eternal reward. That will be an awesome moment.

 In an essay titled “Meditation in a Toolshed,” C.S. Lewis describes a scene from within a darkened shed. The sun was brilliantly shining outside, yet from the inside only a small sunbeam could be seen through a crack at the top of the door. Everything was pitch-black except for the prominent beam of light, by which he could see flecks of dust floating about.  Writes Lewis:

 “I was seeing the beam, not seeing things by it. Then I moved, so that the beam fell on my eyes.  Instantly the whole previous picture vanished. I saw no toolshed, and (above all) no beam. Instead I saw, framed in the irregular cranny at the top of the door, green leaves moving in the branches of a tree outside and beyond that, 90 odd million miles away, the sun. Looking along the beam, and looking at the beam are very different experiences.”(1) 

 Each time I come to the gospel accounts of the woman with the alabaster jar, I notice something similar. “Do you see this woman?” Jesus asks, as if he is speaking as much to me as the guests around the table. With a jar of costly perfume, she had anointed the feet of Christ with fragrance and tears. She then endured the criticism of those around her because she alone saw the one in front of them. While the dinner crowd was sitting in the dark about Jesus, the woman was peering in the light of understanding. What she saw invoked tears of recognition, sacrifice, and much love. Gazing along the beam and at the beam are quite different ways of seeing. 

 The late seventeenth century poet George Herbert once described prayer as “the soul in paraphrase, heart in pilgrimage.” At those words I picture the woman with her broken alabaster jar, wiping the dusty, fragrant feet of Christ with her hair. Pouring out the expensive nard, she seemed to pour out her soul. Fittingly, Herbert concludes his grand description of prayer as “something understood.” 

The woman with the alabaster jar not only saw the Christ when others did not, Christ saw her when others could not see past her reputation. “Do you see this woman?” Jesus asked while the others were questioning her actions past and present. “I came into your house. You did not give me any water for my feet, but she wet my feet with her tears and wiped them with her hair. You did not give me a kiss, but this woman, from the time I entered, has not stopped kissing my feet. You did not put oil on my head, but she has poured perfume on my feet. Therefore, I tell you, her many sins have been forgiven—for she loved much.”(2) Her soul’s cry was heard; she herself was understood. 

 There are many ways of looking at Jesus: good man, historical character, interesting teacher, one who sees, one who hears, one who loves. At any point, we could easily walk away feeling like we have seen everything we need to see. When in fact, we may have seen very little. The risk of looking again may well change everything.

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

 (1) C.S. Lewis, God in the Dock (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1970), 212-215.
(2) Luke 7:44-47.

Morning “There were also with him other little ships.” / Mark 4:36

Jesus was the Lord High Admiral of the sea that night, and his presence
preserved the whole convoy. It is well to sail with Jesus, even though it be
in a little ship. When we sail in Christ’s company, we may not make sure of
fair weather, for great storms may toss the vessel which carries the Lord
himself, and we must not expect to find the sea less boisterous around our
little boat. If we go with Jesus we must be content to fare as he fares; and
when the waves are rough to him, they will be rough to us. It is by tempest
and tossing that we shall come to land, as he did before us.

When the storm swept over Galilee’s dark lake all faces gathered blackness,
and all hearts dreaded shipwreck. When all creature help was useless, the
slumbering Saviour arose, and with a word, transformed the riot of the tempest
into the deep quiet of a calm; then were the little vessels at rest as well as
that which carried the Lord. Jesus is the star of the sea; and though there be
sorrow upon the sea, when Jesus is on it there is joy too. May our hearts make
Jesus their anchor, their rudder, their lighthouse, their life-boat, and their
harbour. His Church is the Admiral’s flagship, let us attend her movements,
and cheer her officers with our presence. He himself is the great attraction;
let us follow ever in his wake, mark his signals, steer by his chart, and
never fear while he is within hail. Not one ship in the convoy shall suffer
wreck; the great Commodore will steer every barque in safety to the desired
haven. By faith we will slip our cable for another day’s cruise, and sail
forth with Jesus into a sea of tribulation. Winds and waves will not spare us,
but they all obey him; and, therefore, whatever squalls may occur without,
faith shall feel a blessed calm within. He is ever in the centre of the
weather-beaten company: let us rejoice in him. His vessel has reached the
haven, and so shall ours.

Evening   “I acknowledged my sin unto thee, and mine iniquity have I not hid. I said, I
will confess my transgressions unto the Lord; and thou forgavest the iniquity
of my sin.” / Psalm 32:5

David’s grief for sin was bitter. Its effects were visible upon his outward
frame: “his bones waxed old”; “his moisture was turned into the drought of
summer.” No remedy could he find, until he made a full confession before the
throne of the heavenly grace. He tells us that for a time he kept silence, and
his heart became more and more filled with grief: like a mountain tarn whose
outlet is blocked up, his soul was swollen with torrents of sorrow. He
fashioned excuses; he endeavoured to divert his thoughts, but it was all to no
purpose; like a festering sore his anguish gathered, and as he would not use
the lancet of confession, his spirit was full of torment, and knew no rest. At
last it came to this, that he must return unto his God in humble penitence, or
die outright; so he hastened to the mercy-seat, and there unrolled the volume
of his iniquities before the all-seeing One, acknowledging all the evil of his
ways in language such as you read in the fifty-first and other penitential
Psalms. Having done this, a work so simple and yet so difficult to pride, he
received at once the token of divine forgiveness; the bones which had been
broken were made to rejoice, and he came forth from his closet to sing the
blessedness of the man whose transgression is forgiven. See the value of a
grace-wrought confession of sin! It is to be prized above all price, for in
every case where there is a genuine, gracious confession, mercy is freely
given, not because the repentance and confession deserve mercy, but for
Christ’s sake. Blessed be God, there is always healing for the broken heart;
the fountain is ever flowing to cleanse us from our sins. Truly, O Lord, thou
art a God “ready to pardon!” Therefore will we acknowledge our iniquities.

I acknowledged my sin unto you, and I did not cover my iniquity; I said, ‘I will confess my transgressions to the Lord,’ and you forgave the iniquity of my sin.   Psalm 32:5

David’s grief for sin was bitter. Its effects were visible on his outward frame: His bones wasted away; his strength dried up like the drought of summer. He was unable to find a remedy until he made a full confession before the throne of heavenly grace. He tells us that for a time he kept silent, and his heart was filled with grief and his lips with groaning: Like a mountain stream that is blocked, his soul was swollen with torrents of sorrow. He created excuses, he tried to divert his thoughts, but it was all to no purpose; like a festering sore his anguish gathered, and, unwilling to use the scalpel of confession, his spirit was tormented and knew no peace.

At last it came to this, that he must return to God in humble penitence or die outright; so he hurried to the mercy-seat and there unrolled the volume of his iniquities before the all-seeing God, acknowledging all the evil of his ways in the terms of the Fifty-first and other penitential Psalms. Having confessed, a task so simple and yet so hard for the proud, he immediately received the token of divine forgiveness; the bones that had been wasted were made to rejoice, and he emerged from his prayers to sing the joyful songs of the one whose transgression is forgiven.

Do you see the value of this grace-led confession of sin? It is to be prized above everything, for in every case where there is a genuine, gracious confession, mercy is freely given—not because the repentance and confession deserve mercy, but for Christ’s sake. May God be praised, there is always healing for the broken heart; the fountain is ever flowing to cleanse us from our sins. Truly, O Lord, You are a God “ready to forgive.”1 Therefore will we humbly acknowledge our iniquities.

1Nehemiah 9:17

Family Reading Plan Ezekiel 17  Psalm 61

Acts 10:42-43

During our life on earth, Jesus Christ is our Lord and Savior. However, as our days here draw to a close, and especially at the end of time, He takes His seat as Judge and prepares to reward believers for the good things they did in His name.

I think there is a widespread misconception that God the Father will be our judge. But it is Christ who gave us, His followers, the charge to go into the world and make disciples (Matt. 28:19). Therefore, He has been given the right to determine which of our actions and thoughts furthered His goal (John 5:22).

Christ is an impartial judge. He is not influenced by what others think or say, but rather, He determines what is right and good based on His honorable, just standard. We’ll be stripped of our worthless works–in other words, the actions and words we used for selfish ambition or vain conceit. All that will remain are the worthwhile things we thought, said, and did to honor God. These are the valuable parts of our lives for which we will be rewarded.

Reward is the whole point of placing believers before the judgment seat of Christ. Shame and guilt over past sin and mistaken motivation have no place there (Rom. 8:1). Our loving Savior is eager to show us our heavenly treasure.

Christ will expose the real you at the judgment seat by casting away the worthless things you’ve done. What remains will be the man or woman who endeavored to please the Lord. Let us determine to be powerful reflections of our Savior, both on earth and in heaven.

 An editorial from The Wall Street Journal some years ago still comes to mind as I occasionally watch the news. The writer was describing host Larry King’s unsettling interview of a father whose wife drowned each of their five children. Peering restlessly at the television before him, the writer believed he saw not only a disturbing interview, but a rare glimpse into the culture at large. As the father spoke of his unwavering support for his wife on national television, the mother who committed the crimes sat in a courtroom thousands of miles away receiving her sentence for the murders of their five children at that very moment. When asked how he thought his wife would do in prison, he replied that she’d do just fine, adding, “She’s a good woman.”

 But the writer’s angst went deeper than his discomfort over the descriptor of the mother as good, a term to which many predictably objected the following day. He noted, rather, his discomfort over the fact that the interview itself was conducted with the same work principle of any another day in the life of modern television reporting: “Interview anyone, ask anything.” To him, that the father was even there, that Larry asked, and that we looked on, bordered a sick voyeurism. How could we call any of it good? He concluded powerfully, “There are moments when one wants to go out to the street, stare up at the stars in the dark sky and admit, I don’t get it anymore… People keep looking for reasons inside this case. I keep wondering what’s happening to all the rest of us, soaking up these recurring, weird events from our living rooms.”(1) 

 The writer makes an observation many of us are afraid to make when it comes to delving out goodness around us: Is there not something unsettling about our misuse of the definition of good? Indeed, what does it mean to be good? Who decides if a person is actually good? The courts? A television audience? Larry King? And when do those of us watching move from sincere concern to shameless curiosity?

 Is there an inherent determiner for naming something good? Can it really arise from no where? And if we use it broadly enough will we get to the point when the word itself is void of meaning? Perhaps we already have. 

 A strikingly similar question was voiced thousands of years ago in a conversation between two men—one, a rich young person; the other, a rabbi from Nazareth known for his strange stories and gossip-worthy surprises. The young man approached Jesus with a pressing question, unthinkingly addressing him as “Good teacher” before muttering out the inquiry. But Jesus didn’t get past the title. “Why do you call me good?” he asked. “Isn’t no one good but God alone?”(2)

 Perhaps as unthinkingly as the rich young ruler, countless minds have observed for years that Jesus was a good man. We would in fact be hard-pressed to find people today who would be comfortable calling Jesus a bad man or anything less than a good person. But indeed, what do we mean by good?

 In a world where ideas creep slowly, making subtle changes that go unnoticed until havoc has been wreaked and we are left like this author wondering what is happening, we do well to ask ourselves what we mean and where it comes from.  G.K. Chesterton warned us several decades ago that we were tearing fences down before inquiring as to why they were up in the first place. And Jesus more than two thousand years ago inquired as to our very use of the word good: If this world is little more than a happy accident, why do you call me good? Why do you call anything good? No one is good except God alone. His statement was not meant to make us all feel like bad people. In fact it is interesting that we so strongly desire to call people good and believe that a generic, groundless goodness will suffice. But Jesus powerfully probes the worldview that assigns goodness without a foundation. What does it mean to be good? Who decides? And does a worldview without a moral God have any basis for speaking of goodness in the first place? Jesus suggests it does not. For God gives us the very meaning of goodness. God alone is the cause and source of all that is good.

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

 (1) Daniel Henninger, “She Got Life, He Was Live,” Wall Street Journal, March 22, 2002.
(2) See Mark 10:13-23.

Morning “God is jealous.” / Nahum 1:2

Your Lord is very jealous of your love, O believer. Did he choose you? He
cannot bear that you should choose another. Did he buy you with his own blood?
He cannot endure that you should think that you are your own, or that you
belong to this world. He loved you with such a love that he would not stop in
heaven without you; he would sooner die than you should perish, and he cannot
endure that anything should stand between your heart’s love and himself. He is
very jealous of your trust. He will not permit you to trust in an arm of
flesh. He cannot bear that you should hew out broken cisterns, when the
overflowing fountain is always free to you. When we lean upon him, he is glad,
but when we transfer our dependence to another, when we rely upon our own
wisdom, or the wisdom of a friend–worst of all, when we trust in any works of
our own, he is displeased, and will chasten us that he may bring us to
himself. He is also very jealous of our company. There should be no one with
whom we converse so much as with Jesus. To abide in him only, this is true
love; but to commune with the world, to find sufficient solace in our carnal
comforts, to prefer even the society of our fellow Christians to secret
intercourse with him, this is grievous to our jealous Lord. He would fain have
us abide in him, and enjoy constant fellowship with himself; and many of the
trials which he sends us are for the purpose of weaning our hearts from the
creature, and fixing them more closely upon himself. Let this jealousy which
would keep us near to Christ be also a comfort to us, for if he loves us so
much as to care thus about our love we may be sure that he will suffer nothing
to harm us, and will protect us from all our enemies. Oh that we may have
grace this day to keep our hearts in sacred chastity for our Beloved alone,
with sacred jealousy shutting our eyes to all the fascinations of the world!

Evening “I will sing of mercy and judgment.” / Psalm 101:1

Faith triumphs in trial. When reason is thrust into the inner prison, with her
feet made fast in the stocks, faith makes the dungeon walls ring with her
merry notes as she cries, “I will sing of mercy and of judgment. Unto thee, O
Lord, will I sing.” Faith pulls the black mask from the face of trouble, and
discovers the angel beneath. Faith looks up at the cloud, and sees that

“‘Tis big with mercy and shall break

In blessings on her head.”

There is a subject for song even in the judgments of God towards us. For,
first, the trial is not so heavy as it might have been; next, the trouble is
not so severe as we deserved to have borne; and our affliction is not so
crushing as the burden which others have to carry. Faith sees that in her
worst sorrow there is nothing penal; there is not a drop of God’s wrath in it;
it is all sent in love. Faith discerns love gleaming like a jewel on the
breast of an angry God. Faith says of her grief, “This is a badge of honour,
for the child must feel the rod;” and then she sings of the sweet result of
her sorrows, because they work her spiritual good. Nay, more, says Faith,
“These light afflictions, which are but for a moment, work out for me a far
more exceeding and eternal weight of glory.” So Faith rides forth on the black
horse, conquering and to conquer, trampling down carnal reason and fleshly
sense, and chanting notes of victory amid the thickest of the fray.

“All I meet I find assists me

In my path to heavenly joy:

Where, though trials now attend me,

Trials never more annoy.

“Blest there with a weight of glory,

Still the path I’ll ne’er forget,

But, exulting, cry, it led me

To my blessed Saviour’s seat.”

I will sing of steadfast love and justice.   Psalm 101:1

 Faith is triumphant in trial. When reason has her feet fastened in the stocks of the inner prison, faith makes the dungeon walls ring with her happy notes as she cries, “I will sing of steadfast love and justice; to you, O LORD, I will make music.” Faith pulls the dark mask from the face of trouble and discovers the angel beneath. Faith looks up at the cloud and sees that

“It is big with mercy and will break

In blessings on her head.”

There is a subject for song even in the judgments of God toward us. For, first, the trial is not as difficult as it might have been; next, the trouble is not as severe as we deserved; and our affliction is not as crushing as the burden that others have to carry. Faith sees that in her deepest sorrow there is no punishment. There is not a drop of God’s wrath in it; it is all sent in love. Faith finds love gleaming like a jewel on the breast of an angry God. Faith wears her grief “like a badge of honor” and sings of the sweet result of her sorrows, because they work for her spiritual good. Faith says, “For this slight momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison.”1 So faith rides out in victory, trampling down earthly wisdom and carnal knowledge, and singing songs of triumph where the battle rages.

All I meet I find assists me

In my path to heavenly joy:

Where, though trials now attend me,

Trials never more annoy.

Blest there with a weight of glory,

Still the path I’ll not forget,

But, exulting, cry, it led me

To my blessed Savior’s seat.

12 Corinthians 4:17

Family Reading Plan   Ezekiel 15  Psalm 57

 Joshua 6:1-5

One of my favorite songs is “Trust and Obey” because it sums up God’s purpose for our lives. When we practice these two commands, a beautiful cycle begins. Trusting the Lord makes obedience easier, and obedience produces ever-increasing trust. Can you recall facing a challenge that was difficult or perplexing? If so, you know how important these two commands are.

When the Lord calls you to a task that seems unreasonable, you have two options. You can obey Him even though you don’t understand what will happen, or you can become fearful and attempt to find a way out. Joshua chose the first option. Because he trusted the Lord, he disregarded all his military experience and adopted God’s bizarre battle plan. Over the years, he had learned that the Lord is trustworthy.

The way we respond to God’s challenging assignments reveals our level of commitment. We may feel as if we’re right in step with Him–until He proposes a change of direction. That’s when our resistance kicks in, and with it, the realization we aren’t as close to Him as we thought. At that point, our decision determines whether the Lord will be able to use us as He desires. Because Joshua never lost his commitment, he continued to serve the Lord for the remainder of his life.

At times obedience is a struggle, as your mind runs through all the reasons God’s path is illogical. Fear dominates and your will battles to comply when everything within is screaming to run the other way. But obedience is always the best choice, because the Lord is trustworthy and wise.

 D.I.Y or “Do it yourself” is often a necessity in lean, economic times. It is also a return to a simpler time, when craft and skill involved far more than technological prowess. More than the fad movement it has become, do-it-yourself was simply the way people ate through the cold winter months, or fixed what was broken, or made something new for a child to enjoy. 

 In my own life, I have come to embrace D.I.Y partially out of necessity. I am making my own granola and bread, growing vegetables in a garden that I eat during the summer months and preserve for the winter, and learning to fix broken things around my house. I love the sense of self-sufficiency that comes from doing things the hard way, or the slow way, or just on my own. 

 But a much greater sense of satisfaction comes when what I have made or fixed contributes nourishment and benefit for those around me. This is especially true when it comes to food. I love sharing a meal that comes from the garden with others who live in a D.I.Y world, not by choice, but by necessity. I love baking an extra loaf of bread, or making more than enough food to feed not just myself but others.  There is something transformative when what I have done myself is done for the benefit of others.

 Throughout the narrative of the gospel according to Luke, Jesus is often coming and going from meals. Interestingly enough, Jesus is often eating meals with a very sundry cast of characters who were often consigned into a do-it-yourself corner because they were not welcome at the table of their religious communities. Yet, meals with Jesus were about more than the food. They were the conduits for spiritual and life transformation. One dramatic example of this transformation occurs with a chief tax gatherer, Zaccheus. And unlike other accounts of meals with Jesus in Luke’s gospel where he is the invited guest, Jesus invites himself over to dine in Zaccheus’s home. As a result of this dining experience, Jesus gives Zaccheus a new identity as a “Son of Abraham,” a title that inflamed the religious leaders of his day. How could Jesus count a scheming, conniving, tax-collecting outsider as a “Son of Abraham”—which meant he was a son of the faithful patriarch and a true Israelite? And how did Zaccheus demonstrate faith that garnered Jesus’s commendation?

 Hearing the news of Jesus’s arrival, this much-maligned man pushed his way through the crowds, and climbed up in a tree just to get a glimpse of this man. Zaccheus had heard the stories about Jesus—his healings, his hospitality towards tax collectors and sinners, and his remarkable, authoritative teachings. Now his curious faith compelled him to see for himself if all that he had heard was really true. 

 How surprising it must have been when Jesus invites himself over for dinner! Jesus wants to dine with this one who is despised. In response, Zaccheus overflows with generous gratitude. “Lord, half of my possessions I will give to the poor” (Luke 19:8). Jesus has asked for nothing but hospitality from Zaccheus, and in response, Zaccheus willingly surrenders half of his wealth. The tax collector’s willingness to let go of half of his wealth demonstrates faith—a faith, just like Abraham. The hospitality of Jesus prompts his faith-fueled donation.

 But his faithful response goes beyond gratitude as he seeks to restore justice to those whom he has defrauded. It wasn’t enough for Zaccheus to give away half of his wealth in response to Jesus; he insists on repaying those he has defrauded. The Old Testament requirement for restitution is for the amount defrauded plus one-fifth.(1)But Zaccheus doesn’t simply meet the letter of the law; he offers to repay four times as much as he has defrauded others! Four-fold restitution will impoverish Zaccheus, as he’s already committed to give away half of his wealth. Yet in response to Jesus’s gracious invitation, Zaccheus parts with his wealth as a sign of his saving faith.

 Like Abraham, Zaccheus responds with faith that prompts action. Voluntarily impoverishing himself, Zaccheus shows that he, too, will live by faith—faith that demonstrates its true character in action. Thus, Zaccheus’s faith also benefits the community around him. At some point after Jesus invites himself to the tax collector’s home, Zaccheus rises—uncoerced, unadmonished, and unprompted—and commits himself to doing justice. For Zaccheus, justice rolls down like waters from the hospitality of Jesus, and it flows into his own faithful demonstration of hospitality towards others: he shares his wealth and restores what was ill-gotten.  

 “Salvation has come to this house”—all in response to a meal. Imagine that. Rather than hoarding resources in a self-centered world it is the gift of hospitality—giving both emotional and physical nurture—that proves the vessel for transformation. In a world where do–it-yourself independence is valued above seeing one’s means as an opportunity for sharing, surely the faithful witness of Zaccheus offers a sobering challenge. Do unto others as you would have it done unto you.

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

 (1) See Leviticus 6:5 and Numbers 5:7.

Morning “Be ye separate.” / 2 Corinthians 6:17

The Christian, while in the world, is not to be of the world. He should be
distinguished from it in the great object of his life. To him, “to live,”
should be “Christ.” Whether he eats, or drinks, or whatever he does, he should
do all to God’s glory. You may lay up treasure; but lay it up in heaven, where
neither moth nor rust doth corrupt, where thieves break not through nor steal.
You may strive to be rich; but be it your ambition to be “rich in faith,” and
good works. You may have pleasure; but when you are merry, sing psalms and
make melody in your hearts to the Lord. In your spirit, as well as in your
aim, you should differ from the world. Waiting humbly before God, always
conscious of his presence, delighting in communion with him, and seeking to
know his will, you will prove that you are of heavenly race. And you should be
separate from the world in your actions. If a thing be right, though you lose
by it, it must be done; if it be wrong, though you would gain by it, you must
scorn the sin for your Master’s sake. You must have no fellowship with the
unfruitful works of darkness, but rather reprove them. Walk worthy of your
high calling and dignity. Remember, O Christian, that thou art a son of the
King of kings. Therefore, keep thyself unspotted from the world. Soil not the
fingers which are soon to sweep celestial strings; let not these eyes become
the windows of lust which are soon to see the King in his beauty–let not
those feet be defiled in miry places, which are soon to walk the golden
streets–let not those hearts be filled with pride and bitterness which are
ere long to be filled with heaven, and to overflow with ecstatic joy.

Then rise my soul! and soar away,

Above the thoughtless crowd;

Above the pleasures of the gay,

And splendours of the proud;

Up where eternal beauties bloom,

And pleasures all divine;

Where wealth, that never can consume,

And endless glories shine.

Evening “Lead me, O Lord, in thy righteousness because of mine enemies.” / Psalms 5:8

Very bitter is the enmity of the world against the people of Christ. Men will
forgive a thousand faults in others, but they will magnify the most trivial
offence in the followers of Jesus. Instead of vainly regretting this, let us
turn it to account, and since so many are watching for our halting, let this
be a special motive for walking very carefully before God. If we live
carelessly, the lynx-eyed world will soon see it, and with its hundred
tongues, it will spread the story, exaggerated and emblazoned by the zeal of
slander. They will shout triumphantly. “Aha! So would we have it! See how
these Christians act! They are hypocrites to a man.” Thus will much damage be
done to the cause of Christ, and much insult offered to his name. The cross of
Christ is in itself an offence to the world; let us take heed that we add no
offence of our own. It is “to the Jews a stumblingblock”: let us mind that we
put no stumblingblocks where there are enough already. “To the Greeks it is
foolishness”: let us not add our folly to give point to the scorn with which
the worldly-wise deride the gospel. How jealous should we be of ourselves! How
rigid with our consciences! In the presence of adversaries who will
misrepresent our best deeds, and impugn our motives where they cannot censure
our actions, how circumspect should we be! Pilgrims travel as suspected
persons through Vanity Fair. Not only are we under surveillance, but there are
more spies than we know of. The espionage is everywhere, at home and abroad.
If we fall into the enemies’ hands we may sooner expect generosity from a
wolf, or mercy from a fiend, than anything like patience with our infirmities
from men who spice their infidelity towards God with scandals against his
people. O Lord, lead us ever, lest our enemies trip us up!

Lead me, O Lord, in your righteousness because of my enemies.   Psalm 5:8

The enmity of the world is bitter in its assault against the people of Christ. Men will forgive a thousand faults in others, but they will magnify the most trivial offense in the followers of Jesus. Instead of vainly regretting this, let us make it work for us, and since so many are watching for our collapse, let it be a special motive for walking very carefully before God. If we live carelessly, the watching world will soon see it, and multiple tongues will spread the story, exaggerated and emblazoned by the zeal of slander.

They will shout triumphantly, “See! See how these Christians act! They are hypocrites to everyone.” And so great damage will be done to the cause of Christ, and His name will be greatly maligned. The cross of Christ is in itself an offense to the world; let us take care that we add no offense of our own. It is “a stumbling block to Jews”1: Let us ensure that we put no stumbling blocks where there are enough already. “Folly to Gentiles”: let us not add our folly to give apparent reason for the scorn with which the worldly deride the Gospel. How concerned we should be with ourselves! How rigid with our consciences!

In the presence of adversaries who will misrepresent our best deeds and impugn our motives if they cannot censure our actions, we should be circumspect! Like pilgrims we travel under suspicion through Vanity Fair. Not only are we under surveillance, but there are more spies than we imagine, at home and at work. If we fall into the enemies’ hands, we may sooner expect generosity from a wolf or mercy from a fiend than anything like patience with our infirmities from those who spice their infidelity toward God with scandals against His people. Lord, lead us always; do not allow our enemies to trip us up!

11 Corinthians 1:23

Family Reading Plan Ezekiel 14  Psalm 55

 Daniel 1:1-21

Daniel and his friends faced the same dilemma we do–how to live a holy life in a godless culture. At one time, our society readily accepted Christian values and standards, but that era is quickly passing. Our challenge today is to live under God’s authority while remaining in submission to the law of the land. At times we are forced to choose between the two, but if we’ll seek the Lord’s guidance before marching defiantly forward, He may open an alternative approach for us.

Had Daniel bluntly declared, “I won’t eat this food!” he wouldn’t have lasted long, and we wouldn’t have the book of Daniel in the Bible. But the Lord gave him the wisdom to humbly seek permission from the person who was in a position of authority over him. God honored his commitment and provided a way for him to live righteously in a pagan world.

We tend to hold up Daniel and his three friends as extraordinary people who lived amazing lives. But have you ever wondered what the Lord could do in the life of an ordinary person like you? The determining factor is not the greatness of the individual but, rather, his commitment to a God who can do remarkable things in a life fully devoted to Him. That’s the kind of people our Lord is looking for.

Although we don’t know all that God could do in our lives if we’d radically commit ourselves to Him, the thought of missing out on His plans should be enough to motivate us to obey. You don’t want to arrive in heaven and discover you forfeited blessings because you weren’t fully devoted to Him.

 “What do I really want?” a friend asked himself as if speaking the language of epiphany. He found himself initiating new interests in things, filling his time with pastimes—pining after that new thing that would change everything—when suddenly he realized that there was probably a search behind all of his searching. Why am I doing all of these things? What am I really looking for? The questions were something of an awakening.

 Someone once told me that all behavior is goal-oriented. It is simple, but for me was an incredibly rich thought. Walking through my week with the idea in mind was as striking as it was enlightening. Looking at my words, my actions, even my prayers in light of my goal, inquiring as to the motive, I realized how easy it is to be unaware of my own heart. “You don’t know what you are asking,” Jesus replied to the sons of Zebedee. Sometimes we just don’t see.     

 As singer/songwriter Rich Mullins writes, “Everybody I know says they need just one thing/And what they really mean is that they need just one thing more.” Like my friend who found himself reacting behaviorally before examining the motivation, quite often we are unaware of what we really want, and outright startled by the invitation to see more. “What do you want?” Jesus asked the blind man calling out for him.     

 How do we know what we really mean, what we really want? How do we learn to see the search behind our searching? And is it always as simple as seeing? Can we always get past the layers of self to unveil our motives?       

 For potential followers, Jesus seems to suggest that now is a good time to try, even as it may serve as a reminder that we sometimes cannot discern our motives, and often our own hearts deceive us. Writes C.S. Lewis, “Humans are very seldom either totally sincere or totally hypocritical. Their moods change, their motives are mixed, and they are often themselves quite mistaken as to what their motives are.”(1) 

 While Jesus was walking one day in the temple courts, the chief priests, the teachers of the law, and the elders came to him. “By what authority are you doing these things?” they demanded. “And who gave you authority to do this?” 

 Jesus replied with a question. “I will ask you one thing.  Answer me, and I will tell you by what authority I am doing these things.  Was John’s baptism from heaven or from men?”

 The leaders discussed it among themselves and said, “If we say, ‘From heaven,’ he will ask, ‘Then why didn’t you believe him?’ But if we say, ‘From men’ the people will react for they believe that John really was a prophet.

 So they answered, ‘We don’t know.’ And Jesus said, “Neither will I tell you by what authority I am doing these things.”(2)

 The exchange is a telling look at human behavior. Did they see their own motives as clearly as Jesus presented them? They certainly had the capacity to reason with a goal in mind. Did they think they had out maneuvered the one before them? Or did they concede in their minds as they did in their words that Jesus was at least one step ahead of them? John reports of the one ahead of us: “[M]any believed in his name because they saw the signs that he was doing. But Jesus on his part would not entrust himself to them, because he knew all people and needed no one to testify about anyone; for he himself knew what was in everyone.”

 Christianity may not be completely unique in its invitation to prepare our hearts and minds, to examine the hidden clutter of our souls, and to see the grime and cobwebs that have accumulated. But it is unique in the way heart and clutter are seen. Christ’s is not an invitation to ever-see our need to see more, a clarion call to try harder; rather, it is an invitation to see our dire need for the one who sees. For though there are days when I cannot even see my own motives, I can entrust myself to the one who sees me, knowing that by his grace God grants his children ears to hear and eyes to see. 

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

 (1) C.S. Lewis, Yours, Jack (New York: Harper One, 2008), 343.
(2) See Mark 11:27-33.

Morning “And he goeth up into a mountain, and calleth unto him whom he would: and they came unto him.” / Mark 3:13

Here was sovereignty. Impatient spirits may fret and fume, because they are
not called to the highest places in the ministry; but reader be it thine to
rejoice that Jesus calleth whom he wills. If he shall leave me to be a
doorkeeper in his house, I will cheerfully bless him for his grace in
permitting me to do anything in his service. The call of Christ’s servants
comes from above. Jesus stands on the mountain, evermore above the world in
holiness, earnestness, love and power. Those whom he calls must go up the
mountain to him, they must seek to rise to his level by living in constant
communion with him. They may not be able to mount to classic honours, or
attain scholastic eminence, but they must like Moses go up into the mount of
God and have familiar intercourse with the unseen God, or they will never be
fitted to proclaim the gospel of peace. Jesus went apart to hold high
fellowship with the Father, and we must enter into the same divine
companionship if we would bless our fellowmen. No wonder that the apostles
were clothed with power when they came down fresh from the mountain where
Jesus was. This morning we must endeavour to ascend the mount of communion,
that there we may be ordained to the lifework for which we are set apart. Let
us not see the face of man today till we have seen Jesus. Time spent with him
is laid out at blessed interest. We too shall cast out devils and work wonders
if we go down into the world girded with that divine energy which Christ alone
can give. It is of no use going to the Lord’s battle till we are armed with
heavenly weapons. We must see Jesus, this is essential. At the mercy-seat we
will linger till he shall manifest himself unto us as he doth not unto the
world, and until we can truthfully say, “We were with him in the Holy Mount.”

Evening “Evening wolves.” / Habakkuk 1:8

While preparing the present volume, this particular expression recurred to me
so frequently, that in order to be rid of its constant importunity I
determined to give a page to it. The evening wolf, infuriated by a day of
hunger, was fiercer and more ravenous than he would have been in the morning.
May not the furious creature represent our doubts and fears after a day of
distraction of mind, losses in business, and perhaps ungenerous tauntings from
our fellow men? How our thoughts howl in our ears, “Where is now thy God?” How
voracious and greedy they are, swallowing up all suggestions of comfort, and
remaining as hungry as before. Great Shepherd, slay these evening wolves, and
bid thy sheep lie down in green pastures, undisturbed by insatiable unbelief.
How like are the fiends of hell to evening wolves, for when the flock of
Christ are in a cloudy and dark day, and their sun seems going down, they
hasten to tear and to devour. They will scarcely attack the Christian in the
daylight of faith, but in the gloom of soul conflict they fall upon him. O
thou who hast laid down thy life for the sheep, preserve them from the fangs
of the wolf.

False teachers who craftily and industriously hunt for the precious life,
devouring men by their false-hoods, are as dangerous and detestable as evening
wolves. Darkness is their element, deceit is their character, destruction is
their end. We are most in danger from them when they wear the sheep’s skin.
Blessed is he who is kept from them, for thousands are made the prey of
grievous wolves that enter within the fold of the church.

What a wonder of grace it is when fierce persecutors are converted, for then
the wolf dwells with the lamb, and men of cruel ungovernable dispositions
become gentle and teachable. O Lord, convert many such: for such we will pray
tonight.

Evening wolves   Habakkuk 1:8

While preparing the present volume, this particular expression recurred to me so frequently that in order to be rid of its constant demand I determined to give a page to it. The evening wolf, infuriated by a day of hunger, was fiercer and more ravenous than he would have been in the morning. This furious creature may promise a picture of our doubts and fears after a day of distraction of mind, losses in business, and perhaps ungenerous tauntings from our fellowmen.

How our thoughts howl in our ears: “Where is your God now?” How voracious and greedy they are, swallowing up all suggestions of comfort and remaining as hungry as ever. Great Shepherd, slay these evening wolves, and bid Your sheep lie down in green pastures, undisturbed by unbelief. The fiends of hell seen just like evening wolves, for when the flock of Christ are in a cloudy and dark day, and their sun seems to be going down, they arrive to tear and to devour. They will scarcely attack the Christian in the daylight of faith, but in the gloomy night of the soul they fall upon him. O Lord who laid down Your life for the sheep, preserve them from the fangs of the wolf.

False teachers who craftily and industriously hunt for precious life, devouring men by their falsehoods, are as dangerous and detestable as evening wolves. Darkness is their element; deceit is their character; destruction is their end. They pose the greatest threat to our safety when they wear the sheep’s skin. Blessed is he who is kept from them, for thousands become the prey of grievous wolves that enter within the fold of the church.

What a wonder of grace it is when fierce persecutors are converted, for then the wolf lives with the lamb, and men of cruel, ungovernable dispositions become gentle and teachable. O Lord, convert many like this: For this we will pray tonight.

Family Reading Plan Ezekiel 13  Psalm 52

 Exodus 3:1-15

How do you respond when God tells you to do something that seems beyond your capabilities? Are you full of excuses, giving Him reasons why He picked the wrong person? That’s exactly how Moses responded. When the Lord gave him the gigantic task of leading the Israelites to freedom, He was calling Moses to a significantly higher level of commitment. If we hope to step obediently into our God-given challenges, we must answer the same questions Moses asked.

Who is God? This answer is important because it determines the authority of the One telling us what to do. The two names the Lord used–the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob (v. 6) and “I am who I am” (v. 14)–identified Him as the sovereign Creator and self-existent, everlasting One who keeps His promises. This means there is no higher authority, and He has every right to command our obedience.

Who am I? When Moses questioned whether he was the right man for the job, the Lord gave him a promise: “Certainly, I will be with you” (v. 12). The man was able to fulfill the assignment only because God chose to enter into a relationship with him. The Christian’s source of adequacy is his or her relationship with Christ and the presence of His indwelling Holy Spirit.

When God gives you a tough assignment, remember that as your Creator, He has designed specific tasks for you to achieve. If you refuse to obey, you’ll miss what He has planned for your life. Just think what Moses would have forfeited had he said no. Too much is at stake. Trust God and go!

In a special documentary, a major television network investigated the beginnings of Christianity and the influence of the apostle Paul in spreading the message of Christ. The narrator noted his fascination with the historical figure, commenting that if not for the voice of Paul, it is “unlikely that the movement Jesus founded would have survived beyond the first century.” Yet of the resurrection of Christ he also noted, “Something must have happened, otherwise it’s hard to explain how Jesus’s story endured for so long.” 

 Why has the story of Christ endured? Has it survived through the centuries because of effective speakers in antiquity? Has it endured, as Sigmund Freud argued, because it is a story that fulfills wishes, or as Friedrich Nietzsche attested, because it masks and medicates our disgust of life? Has the story of Christ endured because something really happened after Jesus’s body was taken down from the Cross or was it only the clever marketing of ardent followers? 

 We live in an age where religion is examined with the goal of finding a religion, or a combination of religions, that best suits our lives and lifestyles. We are intrigued by characters in history like Jesus and Paul, Buddha and Gandhi. We look at their lives and rightly determine their influence in history—the radical life and message of Christ, the fervor with which Paul spread the story of Christianity, the passion of Buddha, the social awareness of Gandhi. But far too often, our fascination stops there, comfortably and confidently keeping the events of history at a distance or mingling them all together as one and the same.  

 C.S. Lewis wrote often of “the great cataract of nonsense” that blinds us to knowledge of earlier times and keeps us content with history in pieces. He was talking about the common tendency to treat the voices of history with a certain level of incredulity and inferiority—even if with a pleasant curiosity all the same. Elsewhere, he called it chronological snobbery, a tendency to concern oneself primarily with present sources while dissecting history as we please. Yet to do so, warned Lewis, is to walk unaware of the cataracts through which we see the world today. Far better is the mind that truly considers the past, allowing its lessons to interact with the army of voices that battle for our allegiance. For a person who has lived thoroughly in many eras is far less likely to be deceived by the errors of his or her own age. 

 We must be wary, then, among other things, of assuming the earliest followers of Christ thought resurrection a reasonable phenomenon or miracles a natural occurrence. They didn’t. Investigating the life of Paul, we might ask why a once fearful persecutor of Christ’s followers was suddenly willing to die for the story he carried around the world, testifying to this very event that split history. Investigating the enduring story of Christ, we might ask why the once timid and frightened disciples were abruptly transformed into bold witnesses. What happened that led countless Jews and many others to dramatically change directions in life and in lifestyle? That something incredible happened is not a difficult conclusion at which to arrive. It takes far greater faith to conclude otherwise. 

 A friend of mine is fond of saying that truth is something you can hang your hat on. Even as we struggle to see it today, her words communicate a reality Jesus’s disciples knew well. The resurrection was shocking in its real-ness; it was an event they found dependable and enduring. It was not for them like the latest scandal that grabs our curiosity and passes with the next big thing. It is solid and it is real. The disciples and the apostle Paul were transformed by seeing Jesus alive again—a phenomenon that would be just as unthinkable to ancient minds as it would be for us today. In fact, even the most hesitant among them, and the most unlikely of followers, found the resurrected Christ an irrefutable reality. Comfort was irrelevant, it went far beyond curiosity, and personal preference was not a consideration. They could not deny who stood in front of them. Jesus was alive. And they went to their deaths talking about it. 

 It seems to me that the story of Christ has endured for innumerable reasons: because in the fullness of time God indeed sent his Son; because knowingly Jesus walked to the Cross and into the hands of those who didn’t know what they were doing; because something really happened after his body was laid in the tomb; and because with great power and with God’s Spirit, the apostles continued to testify of the events they saw. What if the story of Christ remains today simply because it is true?

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

Morning “And when they could not come nigh unto him for the press, they uncovered the roof where he was: and when they had broken it up, they let down the bed
wherein the sick of the palsy lay.” / Mark 2:4

Faith is full of inventions. The house was full, a crowd blocked up the door,
but faith found a way of getting at the Lord and placing the palsied man
before him. If we cannot get sinners where Jesus is by ordinary methods we
must use extraordinary ones. It seems, according to Luke 5:19, that a tiling
had to be removed, which would make dust and cause a measure of danger to
those below, but where the case is very urgent we must not mind running some
risks and shocking some proprieties. Jesus was there to heal, and therefore
fall what might, faith ventured all so that her poor paralysed charge might
have his sins forgiven. O that we had more daring faith among us! Cannot we,
dear reader, seek it this morning for ourselves and for our fellow-workers,
and will we not try today to perform some gallant act for the love of souls
and the glory of the Lord.

The world is constantly inventing; genius serves all the purposes of human
desire: cannot faith invent too, and reach by some new means the outcasts who
lie perishing around us? It was the presence of Jesus which excited victorious
courage in the four bearers of the palsied man: is not the Lord among us now?
Have we seen his face for ourselves this morning? Have we felt his healing
power in our own souls? If so, then through door, through window, or through
roof, let us, breaking through all impediments, labour to bring poor souls to
Jesus. All means are good and decorous when faith and love are truly set on
winning souls. If hunger for bread can break through stone walls, surely
hunger for souls is not to be hindered in its efforts. O Lord, make us quick
to suggest methods of reaching thy poor sin-sick ones, and bold to carry them
out at all hazards.

Evening “There is sorrow on the sea; it cannot be quiet.” / Jeremiah 49:23

Little know we what sorrow may be upon the sea at this moment. We are safe in
our quiet chamber, but far away on the salt sea the hurricane may be cruelly
seeking for the lives of men. Hear how the death fiends howl among the
cordage; how every timber starts as the waves beat like battering rams upon
the vessel! God help you, poor drenched and wearied ones! My prayer goes up to
the great Lord of sea and land, that he will make the storm a calm, and bring
you to your desired haven! Nor ought I to offer prayer alone, I should try to
benefit those hardy men who risk their lives so constantly. Have I ever done
anything for them? What can I do? How often does the boisterous sea swallow up
the mariner! Thousands of corpses lie where pearls lie deep. There is
death-sorrow on the sea, which is echoed in the long wail of widows and
orphans. The salt of the sea is in many eyes of mothers and wives. Remorseless
billows, ye have devoured the love of women, and the stay of households. What
a resurrection shall there be from the caverns of the deep when the sea gives
up her dead! Till then there will be sorrow on the sea. As if in sympathy with
the woes of earth, the sea is forever fretting along a thousand shores,
wailing with a sorrowful cry like her own birds, booming with a hollow crash
of unrest, raving with uproarious discontent, chafing with hoarse wrath, or
jangling with the voices of ten thousand murmuring pebbles. The roar of the
sea may be joyous to a rejoicing spirit, but to the son of sorrow the wide,
wide ocean is even more forlorn than the wide, wide world. This is not our
rest, and the restless billows tell us so. There is a land where there is no
more sea–our faces are steadfastly set towards it; we are going to the place
of which the Lord hath spoken. Till then, we cast our sorrows on the Lord who
trod the sea of old, and who maketh a way for his people through the depths
thereof.