Few of us would be able to recollect from our childhoods the moment when self-consciousness first came into being and the process of waking to self began. For most of us, awareness broke through in pieces. We found ourselves then as we continue to find ourselves now: at times stirringly wakeful to what it means to be human, aware of self and lifetime, and startled by the abruptness of its end.  Essayist Annie Dillard articulates the progression of consciousness with stirring lucidity:

“I woke in bits, like all children, piecemeal over the years. I discovered myself and the world, and forgot them, and discovered them again. I woke at intervals until, by that September when Father went down the river, the intervals of waking tipped the scales, and I was more often awake than not. I noticed this process of waking, and predicted with terrifying logic that one of these years not far away I would be awake continuously and never slip back, and never be free of myself again.”(1)

Dillard describes the rousing of self as strangely recognizable—”like people brought back from cardiac arrest or drowning.” There is a familiarity in the midst of the foreignness. We wake to mystery, but so somehow we wake to something known.

We find ourselves jarred awake in a different way to the idea of death, this unsettling notion of forever falling asleep to the life we have known. Spanish philosopher Miguel de Unamuno once observed that human beings are distinguished from other creatures in that we have the unique practice of burying our dead. In our funeral preparations, we make the dead ready for another stage; we make ourselves ready to continue on, our eyes further open to the weight of life. We stand ceremoniously present; we speak words over the dead body. Professor James Loder further notes the rebellion inherent in these preparations: “We will not let death have the last word. This is a mark of the human spirit that something in us knows we can overcome this thing.”(2)

The Christian voice calls the world to the wakeful awareness of this spirit, to the story reaching beyond self, beyond our lifetimes and our deaths, speaking words where death stings and tears flow: “The sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light; the stars will fall from the sky, and the heavenly bodies will be shaken… They will see the Son of Man coming on the clouds of the sky, with power and great glory. And he will send his angels with a loud trumpet call… when you see all these things, you know that itis near, right at the door” (Matthew 24:29-33).

Jesus appeared on the scene of a people who had lived with God’s silence for hundreds of years. Not since the prophet Malachi had God given his people a message, an indication of where they stood, a sign of his presence. The heavens were silent. But even in silence, God was moving. The story of Christ’s coming, the Incarnation of hope and light, is a reminder to stay awake to the knowledge that this is still so. The story that can seize our lives with awakenings to more and more is still unfolding. For the Christian, this mystery is our consciousness. Christ has come. Christ has risen. Christ will come again.

In a letter to a group of fumbling believers, the apostle Paul wrote, “If only for this life we have hope in Christ, we are to be pitied more than all men. But Christ has indeed been raised from the dead, the firstfruits of those who have fallen asleep.”(3) Like children waking to consciousness, we shall one day forever wake to our lives and true humanity. What if something in us knows that Christ is near, right at the door, longing to show us even now. It is worth being found awake, ready for something new and something we have known all along.

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

(1) Annie Dillard, An American Childhood (New York: HarperCollins, 1988), 11.

(2) James E. Loder, The Logic of the Spirit (San Francisco: Jossey-Bass, 1998), 4.

(3) 1 Corinthians 15:19-20.

 Morning  “I will meditate in thy precepts.” / Psalm 119:15

 There are times when solitude is better than society, and silence is wiser

than speech. We should be better Christians if we were more alone, waiting

upon God, and gathering through meditation on his Word spiritual strength for

labour in his service. We ought to muse upon the things of God, because we

thus get the real nutriment out of them. Truth is something like the cluster

of the vine: if we would have wine from it, we must bruise it; we must press

and squeeze it many times. The bruiser’s feet must come down joyfully upon the

bunches, or else the juice will not flow; and they must well tread the grapes,

or else much of the precious liquid will be wasted. So we must, by meditation,

tread the clusters of truth, if we would get the wine of consolation

therefrom. Our bodies are not supported by merely taking food into the mouth,

but the process which really supplies the muscle, and the nerve, and the

sinew, and the bone, is the process of digestion. It is by digestion that the

outward food becomes assimilated with the inner life. Our souls are not

nourished merely by listening awhile to this, and then to that, and then to

the other part of divine truth. Hearing, reading, marking, and learning, all

require inwardly digesting to complete their usefulness, and the inward

digesting of the truth lies for the most part in meditating upon it. Why is it

that some Christians, although they hear many sermons, make but slow advances

in the divine life? Because they neglect their closets, and do not

thoughtfully meditate on God’s Word. They love the wheat, but they do not

grind it; they would have the corn, but they will not go forth into the fields

to gather it; the fruit hangs upon the tree, but they will not pluck it; the

water flows at their feet, but they will not stoop to drink it. From such

folly deliver us, O Lord, and be this our resolve this morning, “I will

meditate in thy precepts.”

Evening “The Comforter, which is the Holy Ghost.” / John 14:26

 This age is peculiarly the dispensation of the Holy Spirit, in which Jesus

cheers us, not by his personal presence, as he shall do by-and-by, but by the

indwelling and constant abiding of the Holy Ghost, who is evermore the

Comforter of the church. It is his office to console the hearts of God’s

people. He convinces of sin; he illuminates and instructs; but still the main

part of his work lies in making glad the hearts of the renewed, in confirming

the weak, and lifting up all those that be bowed down. He does this by

revealing Jesus to them. The Holy Spirit consoles, but Christ is the

consolation. If we may use the figure, the Holy Spirit is the Physician, but

Jesus is the medicine. He heals the wound, but it is by applying the holy

ointment of Christ’s name and grace. He takes not of his own things, but of

the things of Christ. So if we give to the Holy Spirit the Greek name of

Paraclete, as we sometimes do, then our heart confers on our blessed Lord

Jesus the title of Paraclesis. If the one be the Comforter, the other is the

Comfort. Now, with such rich provision for his need, why should the Christian

be sad and desponding? The Holy Spirit has graciously engaged to be thy

Comforter: dost thou imagine, O thou weak and trembling believer, that he will

be negligent of his sacred trust? Canst thou suppose that he has undertaken

what he cannot or will not perform? If it be his especial work to strengthen

thee, and to comfort thee, dost thou suppose he has forgotten his business, or

that he will fail in the loving office which he sustains towards thee? Nay,

think not so hardly of the tender and blessed Spirit whose name is “the

Comforter.” He delights to give the oil of joy for mourning, and the garment

of praise for the spirit of heaviness. Trust thou in him, and he will surely

comfort thee till the house of mourning is closed forever, and the marriage

feast has begun.

The helper, the Holy Spirit.   John 14:26

This age is peculiarly the dispensation of the Holy Spirit, in which Jesus cheers us not by His personal presence, as He will do soon enough, but by the indwelling and constant abiding of the Holy Spirit, who is forever the Comforter of the church. It is the Spirit’s role to console the hearts of God’s people. He convinces of sin; He illumines and instructs; but the main part of His work still lies in gladdening the hearts of the renewed, confirming the weak, and lifting up all those who are bowed down. He does this by revealing Jesus to them. The Holy Spirit consoles, but Christ is the consolation.

If we may use the figure, the Holy Spirit is the Physician, but Jesus is the medicine. He heals the wound, but it is by applying the holy ointment of Christ’s name and grace. He does not take of His own things, but of the things of Christ. So if we give to the Holy Spirit the Greek name of Paraclete, as we sometimes do, then our heart confers on our blessed Lord Jesus the title of Paraclesis. If one is the Comforter, the other is the Comfort.

Now, with such rich provision for his need, why should the Christian be sad and despondent? The Holy Spirit has graciously committed to be your Comforter: Do you imagine, weak and trembling believer, that He will neglect this sacred trust? Do you suppose that He has undertaken what He cannot or will not perform? If it is His special work to strengthen you and to comfort you, do you suppose He has forgotten His business or that He will fail in fulfilling His loving task of sustaining you? Don’t think so poorly of the tender and blessed Spirit whose name is the Comforter.

He delights to give the oil of joy for mourning and the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness. Trust in Him, and He will surely comfort you until the house of mourning is closed forever, and the marriage feast has begun.

Family Reading Plan   Ezekiel 45  Psalm 101

1 Timothy 1:3-7

God gave every person the capacity to discern right from wrong. For each person, this gift–known as a conscience–is programmed with a distinct belief set and, therefore, functions differently from everyone else’s. From the moment we begin processing instructions and warnings, our conscience is developing a code of conduct by which we will live.

Whether the authority figures in your life offered sound life principles and fair consequences or provided little guidance of real value, your conscience collected the data. As children grow to adulthood, they pay attention to the words and actions of others. Both positive and negative results are added to the program. People who disappoint us teach just as much as those who impress. The programming continues throughout life, so every situation we encounter has the capacity to affect our decisions and actions.

The conscience is a flexible tool; it can absorb new data and adjust a person’s values and perspective. That’s good news for those who begin with poor programming but find valuable biblical guidance later on. Yet flexibility is potentially bad news for those who expose themselves repeatedly to falsehood and vain philosophies. If they ignore wisdom and truth, they will assimilate the deceptive viewpoints of modern culture.

The conscience isn’t a wholly reliable resource, but it’s a tool of the One who is completely trustworthy. The Holy Spirit works in conjunction with our inborn moral compass. He gives direction when the conscience blares a warning and interprets God’s Word when the conscience is hurting.

Morning “Let us lift up our heart with our hands unto God in the heavens.” /

Lamentations 3:41  

The act of prayer teaches us our unworthiness, which is a very salutary lesson

for such proud beings as we are. If God gave us favours without constraining

us to pray for them we should never know how poor we are, but a true prayer is

an inventory of wants, a catalogue of necessities, a revelation of hidden

poverty. While it is an application to divine wealth, it is a confession of

human emptiness. The most healthy state of a Christian is to be always empty

in self and constantly depending upon the Lord for supplies; to be always poor

in self and rich in Jesus; weak as water personally, but mighty through God to

do great exploits; and hence the use of prayer, because, while it adores God,

it lays the creature where it should be, in the very dust. Prayer is in

itself, apart from the answer which it brings, a great benefit to the

Christian. As the runner gains strength for the race by daily exercise, so for

the great race of life we acquire energy by the hallowed labour of prayer.

Prayer plumes the wings of God’s young eaglets, that they may learn to mount

above the clouds. Prayer girds the loins of God’s warriors, and sends them

forth to combat with their sinews braced and their muscles firm. An earnest

pleader cometh out of his closet, even as the sun ariseth from the chambers of

the east, rejoicing like a strong man to run his race. Prayer is that uplifted

hand of Moses which routs the Amalekites more than the sword of Joshua; it is

the arrow shot from the chamber of the prophet foreboding defeat to the

Syrians. Prayer girds human weakness with divine strength, turns human folly

into heavenly wisdom, and gives to troubled mortals the peace of God. We know

not what prayer cannot do! We thank thee, great God, for the mercy-seat, a

choice proof of thy marvellous lovingkindness. Help us to use it aright

throughout this day!

Evening “Whom he did predestinate, them he also called.” / Romans 8:30

 In the second epistle to Timothy, first chapter, and ninth verse, are these

words–“Who hath saved us, and called us with an holy calling.” Now, here is a

touchstone by which we may try our calling. It is “an holy calling, not

according to our works, but according to his own purpose and grace.” This

calling forbids all trust in our own doings, and conducts us to Christ alone

for salvation, but it afterwards purges us from dead works to serve the living

and true God. As he that hath called you is holy, so must you be holy. If you

are living in sin, you are not called, but if you are truly Christ’s, you can

say, “Nothing pains me so much as sin; I desire to be rid of it; Lord, help me

to be holy.” Is this the panting of thy heart? Is this the tenor of thy life

towards God, and his divine will? Again, in Philippians, 3:13, 14, we are told

of “The high calling of God in Christ Jesus.” Is then your calling a high

calling? Has it ennobled your heart, and set it upon heavenly things? Has it

elevated your hopes, your tastes, your desires? Has it upraised the constant

tenor of your life, so that you spend it with God and for God? Another test we

find in Hebrews 3:1–“Partakers of the heavenly calling.” Heavenly calling

means a call from heaven. If man alone call thee, thou art uncalled. Is thy

calling of God? Is it a call to heaven as well as from heaven? Unless thou art

a stranger here, and heaven thy home, thou hast not been called with a

heavenly calling; for those who have been so called, declare that they look

for a city which hath foundations, whose builder and maker is God, and they

themselves are strangers and pilgrims upon the earth. Is thy calling thus

holy, high, heavenly? Then, beloved, thou hast been called of God, for such is

the calling wherewith God doth call his people.

 Sometimes I get the feeling from our media that there is a serious effort underway to keep us all anxious, in a state of informed concern, and always on the alert against—well, everything. Rather than a balanced, more general, and necessary exhortation to be cautious, we seem to manufacture fear. We take the advent of 24/7 news, a proliferation of “experts,” and a deluge of “the latest studies,” and out comes an overdose of worry or outright fear.

Everyday I am told that education standards are falling, the economy is in shambles, crime is rising, my food is dangerous, predators are on the prowl in neighborhoods, my body is under assault from saturated fats, and I can’t trust my bankers, accountants, or politicians. There are religious fanatics on the loose and weapons of mass destruction waiting to get me. Gas prices are rising, work seems hard to get, and on top of it all, the poisoned environment is gearing up to offer a big time payback.

Now, I don’t know about you, but the constant immersion in such things, the saturation of space, and the occupation of time by these ideas, does not add to the balance of hope, expectation, joy, or comfort. Could it be that into this culture framed narrative, we can listen to a word from another century? Jesus, speaking to his disciples, once said, “Do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear” (Matthew 6:25). How on earth can we not worry?

Is this possible, is it practical, is it even real? We have whole industries, massive budgets, and multitudes of people, all whose business is marketing worry. Now I’m not exactly suggesting that there is some large scale conspiracy effort to manipulate us all. What I do mean, however, is that many of us live unreflective lives. We don’t pay much (or any) attention to the things that may deeply influence or affect us. For example, it is a necessary condition of a modern economy to keep us restless, dissatisfied, and always seeking, wanting, striving for things, experiences, stuff, education, honors, fun, or whatever. Yet, this perpetual stimulus, as Kenneth Gergen writes in The Saturated Self, indeed has fallout. It leads, he proposes, to a condition of “multiphrenia.”

We are all used to terms like ADD and many similar symptoms to describe our age. We are distracted, busy, under demand, and more often than not worn out or beaten down. So what can we do to combat these forces that deeply affect us? When I was a child in Scotland, I was taught a basic discipline essential to all children in areas where walking to school by busy roads was the norm. Where crossing roads and moving through traffic was inevitable, the key was learning to do it safely. Hence, we were taught: Stop! Look! Listen! These three words and practices were drummed into us. Let me draw on this.

Learning to stop is often the beginning point in our harassed lives. Simply stop and be still. Then, look. Look around, look within, evaluate, and discern. Next, listen. What do you hear, see, sense? Culture’s invasive power may be resisted by a simple set of steps that break the hold of intrusion and allow us to reestablish our focus (see Matthew 6:33). With a fresh resolve to live differently, listen carefully, and act intentionally, new life and will to live is unleashed. Socrates is identified as having observed that the unexamined life is not worth living. I think for many of us, this is the problem. We simply let life take over, circumstances dominate, and pressures define us. But a spirituality of resistance learns to say no. Writing in a time of great pressure, real danger, and many struggles, Paul said to the Philippians: “Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, and with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.” What can we expect as the outcome? God’s peace will guard our hearts and minds.

There are indeed vested interests in the promotion of worry and the amplification of anxiety. But the Lord of history offers an alternative: Trust in Christ and be anxious for nothing!

Stuart McAllister is vice president of training and special projects at Ravi Zacharias International Ministries in Atlanta, Georgia.

And those whom he predestined he also called.    Romans 8:30

In the second letter to Timothy, first chapter and ninth verse, we read these words: “who saved us and called us to a holy calling.” Now here is a touchstone by which we may test our calling. It is “a holy calling, not because of our works, but because of his own purpose and grace.” This calling forbids all trust in our own doings and turns us to Christ alone for salvation, but it afterwards purges us from dead works to serve the living and true God.

As He who called you is holy, so must you be holy. If you are living in sin, you are not called; but if you are truly Christ’s, you can say, “Nothing pains me so much as sin; I desire to be rid of it. Lord, help me to be holy.” Is this the longing of your heart? Is this the substance of your life toward God and His divine will? Again, in Philippians 3:13-14 we are told of “the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.” Is your calling an upward call? Has it refined your heart and focused it upon heavenly things? Has it elevated your hopes, your tastes, your desires? Has it raised the constant tenor of your life, so that you spend it with God and for God?

We find another test in Hebrews 3:1—”you who share in a heavenly calling.” “Heavenly calling” means a call from heaven. If your call comes from man alone, you are uncalled. Is your calling from God? Is it a call to heaven as well as from heaven? Unless you are a stranger here, and heaven is your home, you have not been called with a heavenly calling, for those who have been called from heaven declare that they look for a city that has foundations, whose builder and maker is God, and they find themselves strangers and pilgrims on the earth. Is your calling holy, high, heavenly? Then, beloved, you have been called of God, for such is the calling by which God calls His people.

Family Reading Plan    Ezekiel 44   Psalm 98

Psalm 37:1-8

The Lord promises to give us the desires of our hearts. But many people take this passage out of context, forgetting that their own mindset plays a vital part in bringing it to fruition. As my mother once said, “Where your mind goes, your feet go, so be careful what you think about.”

What is your responsibility when it comes to claiming promises from God?

Delight yourselves in the Lord (Ps. 37:4). Christians should rejoice in God and desire to walk in obedience. The Lord must have first place in your life before you can claim the promise in this verse.

Commit your way to the Lord (v. 5). Allow God to change any aspect of your ambition that is not His will. Remember that when He doesn’t answer a prayer as you wished, it is for a reason.

Trust in Him (v. 5). God is merciful, all-knowing, kind, and generous. You can trust Him with your hopes and dreams.

Rest in Him (v. 7). Resting in the Lord means trusting Him to answer prayers in His timing or transform your aspirations so they conform to His will.

Wait upon the Lord patiently (v. 7). Jesus waited three decades before beginning His three-year ministry on earth. According to His example, waiting is one of the key principles of Christian living.

Do your desires align with God’s purpose and plan for your life? He longs to give His followers abundant blessings and fullness of joy. So allow your dreams to be conformed to the Lord’s will, and follow His guidance faithfully. Only when you surrender to Him will you experience God’s best for your life.

We stood in line for the deal we couldn’t pass up. It was well past time to replace our cell phones that were falling apart. Giant red signs told us about the bargain we were about to seize while a multi-media advertising frenzy drew us further into the store and the philosophy. A weekend sale, a mail-in rebate, and an additional store credit made the phones themselves quite reasonable. But reason, we got the feeling after we left the store, was something they hoped we would check at the door. With such a deal on the phones, upgrade after upgrade after upgrade became suddenly attainable and somewhat distressing to turn down. Each step toward a better plan, a better phone, a better way of communicating seemed so small and so necessary.

A few days later, I was confessing my weekend enchantment with upgrades to a colleague with a penchant for technology, and my story was quickly met with stories of his own. Whether looking at smart phones, or iPads, or cameras, I find myself wanting to wait “just one more month” knowing they will soon come out with the next model, knowing whatever I buy today will be outdated tomorrow. Yet even foregoing technology, we seem to live in a culture of upgrades. Cars and houses, flights and meal-deals ever tempt us with the constant option of bigger and better and newer. Whether looking at a computer, a career, or even a relationship, upgrading can quickly become a consuming way of life. In the culture of upgrades, my colleague noted, “contentment is elusive.” We are chasing after crowns that disappear the moment we seize them.

In a world that instills the hope of acquiring more and becoming greater as we move ahead in life, there are some who stand with a hope in dire contrast. John the Baptist stood among the crowds of Jerusalem announcing hope of the coming King. As he offered a testimony far weightier than any status or upgrade, so he revealed a posture in life far different than the one easily held then and today. “The bride belongs to the bridegroom,” he said of his relationship to Jesus. “The friend who attends the bridegroom waits and listens for him, and is full of joy when he hears the bridegroom’s voice. That joy is mine, and it is now complete. He must become greater; I must become less” (John 3:28-30). In other words, the crown that will most adorn us is not our own.

The apostle Paul says something quite similar. Whatever any of us could dare boast of, whatever we could accomplish as spiritual beings in this life, Paul had us beat. “Are they Hebrews? So am I. Are they Israelites? So am I. Are they Abraham’s descendants? So am I. Are they servants of Christ? (I am out of my mind to talk like this.) I am more. I have worked much harder, been in prison more frequently, been flogged more severely, and been exposed to death again and again.”(1) If there was a way to upgrade one’s spiritual status, Paul would have been sitting in first class. But there isn’t such a category in the Christian story. There isn’t a way to achieve more or to become more than we are already freely offered in Christ. “My grace is sufficient for you,” Paul was told in prayer, “for my power is perfected in weakness” (2 Corinthians 12:9a). As followers of the risen Christ, we are to become less; he is to become more. “Most gladly, therefore, I will rather boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may dwell in me” (2 Corinthians 12:9b).

 The posture of the Christian spirit is one that receives her King! Christ’s grace is our identity; his crown is our hope. “I am not the Christ,” said John the Baptist. But there is one who is.

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

(1) 2 Corinthians 11:22-23.

 Morning   “Faultless before the presence of his glory.” / Jude 24

 Revolve in your mind that wondrous word, “faultless!” We are far off from it

now; but as our Lord never stops short of perfection in his work of love, we

shall reach it one day. The Saviour who will keep his people to the end, will

also present them at last to himself, as “a glorious church, not having spot,

or wrinkle, or any such thing, but holy and without blemish.” All the jewels

in the Saviour’s crown are of the first water and without a single flaw. All

the maids of honour who attend the Lamb’s wife are pure virgins without spot

or stain. But how will Jesus make us faultless? He will wash us from our sins

in his own blood until we are white and fair as God’s purest angel; and we

shall be clothed in his righteousness, that righteousness which makes the

saint who wears it positively faultless; yea, perfect in the sight of God. We

shall be unblameable and unreproveable even in his eyes. His law will not only

have no charge against us, but it will be magnified in us. Moreover, the work

of the Holy Spirit within us will be altogether complete. He will make us so

perfectly holy, that we shall have no lingering tendency to sin. Judgment,

memory, will–every power and passion shall be emancipated from the thraldom

of evil. We shall be holy even as God is holy, and in his presence we shall

dwell forever. Saints will not be out of place in heaven, their beauty will be

as great as that of the place prepared for them. Oh the rapture of that hour

when the everlasting doors shall be lifted up, and we, being made meet for the

inheritance, shall dwell with the saints in light. Sin gone, Satan shut out,

temptation past forever, and ourselves “faultless” before God, this will be

heaven indeed! Let us be joyful now as we rehearse the song of eternal praise

so soon to roll forth in full chorus from all the blood-washed host; let us

copy David’s exultings before the ark as a prelude to our ecstasies before the

throne.

Evening   “And I will deliver thee out of the hand of the wicked, and I will redeem thee

out of the hand of the terrible.” / Jeremiah 15:21

 Note the glorious personality of the promise. I will, I will. The Lord Jehovah

himself interposes to deliver and redeem his people. He pledges himself

personally to rescue them. His own arm shall do it, that he may have the

glory. Here is not a word said of any effort of our own which may be needed to

assist the Lord. Neither our strength nor our weakness is taken into the

account, but the lone I, like the sun in the heavens, shines out resplendent

in all-sufficience. Why then do we calculate our forces, and consult with

flesh and blood to our grievous wounding? Jehovah has power enough without

borrowing from our puny arm. Peace, ye unbelieving thoughts, be still, and

know that the Lord reigneth. Nor is there a hint concerning secondary means

and causes. The Lord says nothing of friends and helpers: he undertakes the

work alone, and feels no need of human arms to aid him. Vain are all our

lookings around to companions and relatives; they are broken reeds if we lean

upon them–often unwilling when able, and unable when they are willing. Since

the promise comes alone from God, it would be well to wait only upon him; and

when we do so, our expectation never fails us. Who are the wicked that we

should fear them? The Lord will utterly consume them; they are to be pitied

rather than feared. As for terrible ones, they are only terrors to those who

have no God to fly to, for when the Lord is on our side, whom shall we fear?

If we run into sin to please the wicked, we have cause to be alarmed, but if

we hold fast our integrity, the rage of tyrants shall be overruled for our

good. When the fish swallowed Jonah, he found him a morsel which he could not

digest; and when the world devours the church, it is glad to be rid of it

again. In all times of fiery trial, in patience let us possess our souls.

I will deliver you out of the hand of the wicked, and redeem you from the grasp of the ruthless.   Jeremiah 15:21

Notice the personal nature of this promise: “I will.” The Lord Jehovah Himself intervenes to deliver and redeem His people. He pledges Himself personally to rescue them. His own arm shall do it, in order that He may have the glory. Not a word is said of any effort of our own that may be needed to assist the Lord. Neither our strength nor our weakness is taken into account, but the lone “I,” like the sun in the heavens, shines out resplendent in complete sufficiency. Why then do we allow ourselves to be wounded by calculating our forces and consulting with mere men? God has enough power without borrowing from our puny arm.

To enjoy peace, our unbelieving thoughts must be stilled, and we must learn that the Lord reigns. There is not even a hint of help from any secondary source. The Lord says nothing of friends and helpers: He undertakes the work alone and feels no need of human arms to aid Him. All our lookings around to companions and relatives are vain; they are broken reeds if we lean upon them—often unwilling when able, and unable when they are willing. Since the promise comes from God alone, it is best for us to wait only on Him; and when we do so, our expectation never fails us.

Who are the wicked, that we should fear them? The Lord will utterly consume them; they are to be pitied rather than feared. As for terrible ones, they are only terrors to those who have no God to turn to, for when the Lord is on our side, whom shall we fear? If we run into sin to please the wicked, we have cause to be alarmed; but if we maintain our integrity, the rage of tyrants will be overruled for our good. When the fish swallowed Jonah, he found him a morsel that he could not digest; and when the world devours the church, it is glad to be rid of it again. In all occasions of fiery trial, let us maintain our souls in patience.

Family Reading Plan    Ezekiel 43  Psalm 96

 2 Peter 2:9-18

God warns us against misguided desires, because sinful passions can lead to emptiness, suffering, disappointment, pain, and even death. Wise believers let the Father direct their yearnings–and then make changes if necessary.

Impure desires have been part of the “flesh” nature since the fall of man, and they can be hard to see in ourselves. Instead of obvious things like theft, drugs, or immorality, they often involve more subtle attitudes and behaviors, like hoping for a rival’s downfall, despising authority (2 Peter 2:10), obsessing about wealth (1 Tim. 6:9), or even speaking arrogant and vain words. Since worldly passions can cause great damage (2 Peter 2:18), believers are to deny them (Titus 2:11-12). But we can’t overcome these desires on our own. Submitting to God’s Spirit is the only way to live righteously.

The Lord knows what we really desire–and more importantly, what we need–even when cloudy judgment leads us astray. And He understands honest mistakes. When a believer misinterprets the Spirit’s guidance or receives bad advice from a friend, God looks at the heart. He may allow the consequences of a poor choice to play out, but He won’t shame His children for an honest mistake. He can turn a bad situation into something good (Rom. 8:28).

God can save us from worldly desires, but we must be willing to commit ourselves to Him and trust that His response is the best thing for us. When we put our lives entirely in the Father’s hands, we can claim the wonderful promises He has for us and then rest in His grace.

The Language of Tears

A close friend of mine recently had her first child. I had the opportunity to visit with them a few months ago and to meet her new little one. At three months old, her baby makes all the typical sweet coos and sounds that endear newborns to their adult admirers. He would even offer a tiny laugh when I would make a silly face at him.

And then, seemingly out of the blue, he would cry. What amazed me was how his mother knew just what the cries indicated. Sometimes it was anger at being put on his stomach; sometimes it was a cry for food; other times, it was the weary crying of his fighting off inevitable sleep. What was amazing to me was that as I listened carefully, I could begin to hear the difference between the various cries of his limited, yet profound vocabulary.

On a cross-country air flight, I was overwhelmed by the plaintive cries of a young child in the row behind me. I immediately thought of my friend. Like my friend’s newborn, I thought of how the child was trying to communicate with his mother through the only means available to him. With each piercing wail, the tears streamed down my own eyes. And I thought about how my own tears were the only way I could express the place of deep sorrow that arose in me as I listened to wave after wave of his sobs.

There is something about a baby’s cries that connects to someplace deep inside of me. For most, especially when sitting on a crowded plane as we were, the sound of a baby crying pierces ears like a scratch on a chalkboard or the siren of an emergency vehicle. But for me, the cries of all young children vocalize all that I cannot say and all that I feel inside. From plaintive wail to frustrated, angry cries, whether they emerge from my friend’s child, a child beside me on the plane, or in the schoolyard across from my home, these cries articulate the deepest yearnings of my own heart.

In this particular case, the young child’s cries connected to deep losses I had suffered. His cries told stories of grief and heartache I bore in my own spirit on behalf of friends and loved ones. His tears expressed for me the bitter sorrow over lost opportunity, frittered years, idle moments when opportunity might have been seized rather than squandered. And so, I cried with the child—the child vocalizing all that I could not say, but that which I deeply felt.

Many times, our response to tears is to admonish them away. “Don’t cry,” “be thankful” or “look on the bright side” are dismissive statements, as much as they are meant to comfort. Yet, there are so many moments in life that cannot be expressed or soothed by words. They are too deep, too visceral to be simply captured by a clever turn of phrase. Instead, tears are the necessary articulation of our hearts, speaking out the groans too deep to be uttered.

Indeed, tears are a language of their own. Whenever I am tempted to dismiss them or to try to overcome them, I am encouraged towards their free expression because of the way in which my Christian faith values them. Throughout the sacred pages of Scripture, there are tears. The tears of the grieving, the weary, and even the joyful—tears speak what the mouth cannot say.

The psalmist speaks of God gathering up tears in a bottle, writing them in a book, as if they tell a unique story. The apostle Paul speaks of the Spirit groaning with utterances too deep for words. The ancient Hebrew prophet, Jeremiah, is often called “the weeping prophet” and Isaiah characterizes the “suffering servant” as “a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief.”

Christians believe that it was this suffering servant, Jesus, who wept at the tomb of his friend Lazarus, moved by the weeping of Mary, Martha and all those who had gathered to mourn his loss. He didn’t just shed a single tear; he wept, crying out in anguish over the death of Lazarus. In a world that values strength, stoicism, and in contrast to those traditions that espouse detachment, I find myself comforted that there is room for my tears, value in grief, and a God who comes near to the brokenhearted.

Furthermore, if as Christians affirm, Jesus presents a living picture of what God is like, then tears are not foreign to God. God is not removed from human pain, but has borne under it in the flesh, in Jesus. Our tears are understood, welcomed and honored by a God who feels. And this gives me great hope for the all too frequent days when tears are as much a part of my days as laughter. And it helps me better understand Jesus’s own words of blessing on those who mourn: Blessed are those who mourn for they shall be comforted. If all of this is true, then let the tears flow freely, just as they do when the young child cries.

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

Morning “Able to keep you from falling.” / Jude 24

 In some sense the path to heaven is very safe, but in other respects there is

no road so dangerous. It is beset with difficulties. One false step (and how

easy it is to take that if grace be absent), and down we go. What a slippery

path is that which some of us have to tread! How many times have we to exclaim

with the Psalmist, “My feet were almost gone, my steps had well nigh slipped.”

If we were strong, sure-footed mountaineers, this would not matter so much;

but in ourselves, how weak we are! In the best roads we soon falter, in the

smoothest paths we quickly stumble. These feeble knees of ours can scarcely

support our tottering weight. A straw may throw us, and a pebble can wound us;

we are mere children tremblingly taking our first steps in the walk of faith,

our heavenly Father holds us by the arms or we should soon be down. Oh, if we

are kept from falling, how must we bless the patient power which watches over

us day by day! Think, how prone we are to sin, how apt to choose danger, how

strong our tendency to cast ourselves down, and these reflections will make us

sing more sweetly than we have ever done, “Glory be to him, who is able to

keep us from falling.” We have many foes who try to push us down. The road is

rough and we are weak, but in addition to this, enemies lurk in ambush, who

rush out when we least expect them, and labour to trip us up, or hurl us down

the nearest precipice. Only an Almighty arm can preserve us from these unseen

foes, who are seeking to destroy us. Such an arm is engaged for our defence.

He is faithful that hath promised, and he is able to keep us from falling, so

that with a deep sense of our utter weakness, we may cherish a firm belief in

our perfect safety, and say, with joyful confidence,

 “Against me earth and hell combine,

 But on my side is power divine;

 Jesus is all, and he is mine!”

Evening “But he answered her not a word.” / Matthew 15:23

 Genuine seekers who as yet have not obtained the blessing, may take comfort

from the story before us. The Saviour did not at once bestow the blessing,

even though the woman had great faith in him. He intended to give it, but he

waited awhile. “He answered her not a word.” Were not her prayers good? Never

better in the world. Was not her case needy? Sorrowfully needy. Did she not

feel her need sufficiently? She felt it overwhelmingly. Was she not earnest

enough? She was intensely so. Had she no faith? She had such a high degree of

it that even Jesus wondered, and said, “O woman, great is thy faith.” See

then, although it is true that faith brings peace, yet it does not always

bring it instantaneously. There may be certain reasons calling for the trial

of faith, rather than the reward of faith. Genuine faith may be in the soul

like a hidden seed, but as yet it may not have budded and blossomed into joy

and peace. A painful silence from the Saviour is the grievous trial of many a

seeking soul, but heavier still is the affliction of a harsh cutting reply

such as this, “It is not meet to take the children’s bread, and to cast it to

dogs.” Many in waiting upon the Lord find immediate delight, but this is not

the case with all. Some, like the jailer, are in a moment turned from darkness

to light, but others are plants of slower growth. A deeper sense of sin may be

given to you instead of a sense of pardon, and in such a case you will have

need of patience to bear the heavy blow. Ah! poor heart, though Christ beat

and bruise thee, or even slay thee, trust him; though he should give thee an

angry word, believe in the love of his heart. Do not, I beseech thee, give up

seeking or trusting my Master, because thou hast not yet obtained the

conscious joy which thou longest for. Cast thyself on him, and perseveringly

depend even where thou canst not rejoicingly hope.

But he did not answer her a word.    Matthew 15:23

Genuine seekers who as yet have not obtained the blessing may find comfort in this story. The Savior did not immediately bestow the blessing, even though the woman had great faith in Him. He intended to give it, but He waited awhile. “He did not answer her a word.” Were her prayers no good? Never better in the world. Was she not needy? Dreadfully needy. Did she not feel her need sufficiently? She felt it overwhelmingly. Was she not sincere enough? She was intensely so. Did she have no faith? She had such a high degree of it that even Jesus wondered and said, “O woman, great is your faith!” Notice then, although it is true that faith brings peace, it does not always bring it instantaneously. There may be certain reasons for faith to be tested rather than rewarded.

Genuine faith may be in the soul like a hidden seed, but so far it may not have budded and blossomed into joy and peace. Silence from the Savior is the painful trial of many a seeking soul, but heavier still is the affliction of a harsh, cutting reply such as, “It is not right to take the children’s bread and throw it to the dogs.” Many in waiting upon the Lord find immediate delight, but this is not the case with all. Some, like the jailer, are in a moment turned from darkness to light, but others are plants of slower growth.

A deeper sense of sin may be given to you instead of a sense of pardon, and in such a case you will need patience to bear the heavy blow. Poor heart, though Christ beat and bruise you, or even slay you, trust Him; even if He should give you an angry word, believe in the love of His heart. I urge you, do not give up seeking or trusting my Master because you have not yet obtained the conscious joy that you long for. Cast yourself on Him, and perseveringly depend even when you cannot rejoicingly hope.

Family Reading Plan    Ezekiel 42   Psalm 94

Psalm 145:17-21

If you could have anything in the world, what would it be? Your answer reveals a lot about who you are. The psalmist writes, “Delight yourself in the Lord, and He will give you the desires of your heart” (Ps. 37:4). There is nothing wrong with desires–they motivate us to achieve great things. But not all of our yearnings come from God.

Consider your aspirations and what they say about who you are:

Do you hope for a position of authority in order to be in control? Longing for personal advancement in order to manipulate others reveals a lack of integrity, whereas a godly person craves righteousness.

Do you dream about wealth and fame? Perhaps there’s a void in your spirit that you’re trying to fill. But only God can meet the insatiable needs of the human heart.

Are you afraid to ask the Lord for what you want? Maybe you think He won’t listen, but God tells us to approach His throne with boldness and confidence (Heb. 4:16).

If the Lord doesn’t respond affirmatively to your prayers, ask Him to make your desires conform to His will. Whatever you do, don’t take matters into your own hands and go after what you want. There is always a high price to pay for rebelling against God.

God cares for us bountifully, but that doesn’t mean we can expect Him to deliver whatever we want, whenever we want it. Only when our dreams align with His plan for our lives does He fulfill them. The thoughts that preoccupy us are an accurate barometer of the state of our relationship with Christ

 When a man wearing sunglasses approached the cash register of a Midwestern pharmacy and told the employees he was going to rob them, the pharmacist couldn’t believe his ears. Stepping forward, he thwarted the plans of the would-be burglar and prevented the crime before it came to fruition. But he didn’t scare the thief off by threat or weapon. In fact, the pharmacist did not even attempt to dissuade him from the theft. The man was stopped dead in his tracks because the pharmacist knew his name. Recognizing his voice, the pharmacist called him by name and asked if the robbery was a joke. The man immediately spun around and ran out of the store, boarding a nearby city bus.

It is easy to enter into certain situations with a false sense of anonymity. Shielded under the veil of obscurity, the pharmacy break-in seemed somehow easier to carry out. The man walked into the pharmacy thinking he would carry out a faceless robbery, when in fact the pharmacist knew his name, his address, and enough of his character to suspect it was a joke. Had someone not recognized him, he might have followed through with the crime.

The Christian story presents the startling thought that God knows your name. Whether living with the suspicion that some flaws, some fears, some thoughts, or some worries can stay hidden, how might it change if you imagine God calling out your name in the midst of it? Would you be startled at the sound of your name, jarred to attention by the only sovereign one in the room? At times, like the pharmacy burglar, we may instinctively feel like running, finding ourselves suddenly exposed where we once thought we were safely hidden. But really, what point is there in running away from someone who knows your name?

At one time in my life the words of Psalm 139 seemed a harsh reminder that my fleeing from God was unsuccessful. David’s prayer seemed to leap out, a stubborn confession of my own inability to hide:

“O LORD, you have searched me and you know me. You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thoughts from afar. You discern my going out and my lying down; you are familiar with all my ways. Before a word is on my tongue you know it completely, O LORD. You hem me in—behind and before; you have laid your hand upon me…Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence?” (139:1-7).

But there was always one verse in this psalm I unconsciously ignored. Speaking personally of God’s omniscience in his own life, David said, “Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too lofty for me to attain” (139:6).  There are many reasons in life that one might instinctively attempt to run from God. Often times, the thought of remaining in the presence of a holy God who knows your name is far too much to bear. The thought of it always made me feel scolded. David, too, seemed familiar with the terror of being caught in sin and called out by name. And yet, he also knew the beautiful mystery of being in the presence of one who would never stop calling his name, though he made his bed in the depths or settled on the far side of the sea.

That God knows your name means that God will not stop looking for you even though you hide. Though you turn away, God will not abstain from loving you. The Father will not stop striving to bring you back into arms that long to gather us: “I am the good shepherd; I know my sheep and my sheep know me—just as the Father knows me and I know the Father—and I lay down my life for the sheep.”(1) Such knowledge is indeed too lofty for us to attain.

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

(1) See John 10:14-15.

Morning “Launch out into the deep, and let down your nets for a draught.” / Luke 5:4

We learn from this narrative, the necessity of human agency. The draught of
fishes was miraculous, yet neither the fisherman nor his boat, nor his fishing
tackle were ignored; but all were used to take the fishes. So in the saving of
souls, God worketh by means; and while the present economy of grace shall
stand, God will be pleased by the foolishness of preaching to save them that
believe. When God worketh without instruments, doubtless he is glorified; but
he hath himself selected the plan of instrumentality as being that by which he
is most magnified in the earth. Means of themselves are utterly unavailing.
“Master, we have toiled all the night and have taken nothing.” What was the
reason of this? Were they not fishermen plying their special calling? Verily,
they were no raw hands; they understood the work. Had they gone about the toil
unskilfully? No. Had they lacked industry? No, they had toiled. Had they
lacked perseverance? No, they had toiled all the night. Was there a deficiency
of fish in the sea? Certainly not, for as soon as the Master came, they swam
to the net in shoals. What, then, is the reason? Is it because there is no
power in the means of themselves apart from the presence of Jesus? “Without
him we can do nothing.” But with Christ we can do all things. Christ’s
presence confers success. Jesus sat in Peter’s boat, and his will, by a
mysterious influence, drew the fish to the net. When Jesus is lifted up in his
Church, his presence is the Church’s power–the shout of a king is in the
midst of her. “I, if I be lifted up, will draw all men unto me.” Let us go out
this morning on our work of soul fishing, looking up in faith, and around us
in solemn anxiety. Let us toil till night comes, and we shall not labour in
vain, for he who bids us let down the net, will fill it with fishes.

Evening  “Praying in the Holy Ghost.” / Jude 20

Mark the grand characteristic of true prayer–“In the Holy Ghost.” The seed of
acceptable devotion must come from heaven’s storehouse. Only the prayer which
comes from God can go to God. We must shoot the Lord’s arrows back to him.
That desire which he writes upon our heart will move his heart and bring down
a blessing, but the desires of the flesh have no power with him.

Praying in the Holy Ghost is praying in fervency. Cold prayers ask the Lord
not to hear them. Those who do not plead with fervency, plead not at all. As
well speak of lukewarm fire as of lukewarm prayer–it is essential that it be
red hot. It is praying perseveringly. The true suppliant gathers force as he
proceeds, and grows more fervent when God delays to answer. The longer the
gate is closed, the more vehemently does he use the knocker, and the longer
the angel lingers the more resolved is he that he will never let him go
without the blessing. Beautiful in God’s sight is tearful, agonizing,
unconquerable importunity. It means praying humbly, for the Holy Spirit never
puffs us up with pride. It is his office to convince of sin, and so to bow us
down in contrition and brokenness of spirit. We shall never sing Gloria in
excelsis except we pray to God De profundis: out of the depths must we cry, or
we shall never behold glory in the highest. It is loving prayer. Prayer should
be perfumed with love, saturated with love–love to our fellow saints, and
love to Christ. Moreover, it must be a prayer full of faith. A man prevails
only as he believes. The Holy Spirit is the author of faith, and strengthens
it, so that we pray believing God’s promise. O that this blessed combination
of excellent graces, priceless and sweet as the spices of the merchant, might
be fragrant within us because the Holy Ghost is in our hearts! Most blessed
Comforter, exert thy mighty power within us, helping our infirmities in
prayer.

Pray in the Holy Spirit.    Jude 1:20

 Note the key characteristic of true prayer—”in the Holy Spirit.” The seed of acceptable devotion must come from heaven’s storehouse. Only the prayer that comes from God can go to God. We must shoot the Lord’s arrows back to Him. The desire that He writes upon our heart will move His heart and bring down a blessing, but the desires of the flesh have no power with Him.

Praying in the Holy Spirit is praying in fervency. Cold prayers ask the Lord not to hear them. Those who do not plead with fervency do not plead at all. We might as well talk of lukewarm fire as of lukewarm prayer—it is essential that it be red-hot. It is praying perseveringly. The true petitioner gathers force as he proceeds and grows more fervent when God delays to answer. The longer the gate is closed, the louder the knocking becomes; and the longer the angel lingers, the more determined he becomes to never let him go without the blessing. In God’s sight tearful, agonizing, unconquerable importunity is commendable. It means praying humbly, for the Holy Spirit never puffs us up with pride. It is His part to convince of sin and to cause us to bow down in contrition and brokenness of spirit.

We will never sing Gloria in excelsis except when we pray to God de profundis: Out of the depths must we cry, or we will never behold glory in the highest. It is loving prayer. Prayer should be perfumed with love, saturated with love—love for our fellow believers and love for Christ. Moreover, it must be a prayer full of faith. A man prevails only to the extent that he believes. The Holy Spirit is the author of faith and strengthens it, so that we pray believing God’s promise. Now our prayer is that this blessed combination of excellent graces, as priceless and sweet as rare spices, might be fragrant within us because the Holy Spirit is in our hearts! Blessed Comforter, exert Your mighty power within us, helping our weaknesses in prayer.

Family Reading Plan    Ezekiel 41  Psalm 93

Colossians 1:9-14

If you’ve ever been confused about how to intercede for someone, Paul’s prayer in Colossians is appropriate for every person and every situation. Because it fits perfectly with God’s will, you can ask these requests with great confidence–both for yourself and for others:

To be filled with the knowledge of His will in all spiritual wisdom and understanding. Not only do we need to know God’s plan for our lives; we also require discernment to distinguish His guiding voice from our own self-directed notions.

To walk in a manner worthy of the Lord, pleasing Him in all respects. Our lives should be patterned after the One we follow, with the goal of bringing Him glory and delight.

To bear fruit in every good work. Instead of being wrapped up in our own jobs, possessions, pleasures, and plans, we should be contributing to others’ lives.

To increase in the knowledge of God. By reading His Word, applying it to our lives, and observing His ways, we’ll gain a deeper understanding of the Lord.

To be strengthened with His power in order to remain steadfast. The Christian life can be lived only with the Holy Spirit’s power.

To joyously give thanks for all He’s done for you. Believers should be characterized by joy and gratitude.

Too often we focus our requests on important temporal needs but miss seeing the deeper spiritual work God wants to do. Imagine how effective your prayers will be if you’ll shift the emphasis of your petitions to the Lord’s desires. He’ll transform you and the people for whom you intercede.