“Unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains by itself, alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.”(1)

His hour had come. He had walked among them, taught them, performed miraculous signs, and he had loved and cared for them. But now, his hour had come and the cross lay ahead of him. The “hour” he faced would be filled with trial and suffering: “Now, my soul has become troubled and what shall I say, ‘Father, save me from this hour?'”

Jesus would walk the long, lonely road to the cross. Rather than taking the way of self-preservation, he would offer his life, like a grain of wheat. He would die; he would be buried in the darkness of the earth, but as a result he would bear much fruit. Despite what lay ahead of him, and despite the trouble in his soul, he affirms, “For this purpose I came to this hour. Father, glorify your name.”

Of what was transacted there on that cross, there are many theories.(2) In formal theology, these “theories” attempt to get at the very nature and the very essence of what Jesus accomplished through his death. For theologians, atonement studies are a fertile field of inquiry because the meaning and impact of the atonement are rich, complex, and paradoxical. One theory, for example, suggests that the atonement stands as the preeminent example of a sacrificial life. Other theories argue that the cross is the ultimate symbol of divine love, or that the cross demonstrates God’s divine justice against sin as the violation of his perfect law. Still other theories suggest the cross overcame the forces of sin and evil, restored God’s honor in relation to God’s holiness and righteousness, or served as a substitution for the death we all deserved because of sin.

While the nature of the atonement may include a portion of all of these theories, Jesus’s statements as recorded in John’s gospel indicate that his death would be a path to abundant life resulting in the production of much fruit. And in this case, Jesus doesn’t construct a theory of the atonement, but instead chooses an agrarian image to indicate what would be accomplished in the cross. “The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified… unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains by itself alone, but if it dies, it bears much fruit” (John 12:23-24). Charles Spurgeon, the nineteenth century theologian and preacher, wrote that this passage of Scripture is rich with paradoxical statements describing the nature of atonement:

“[P]aradox is this—that his glory was to come to him through shame…[that] the greatest fulness of our Lord’s glory arises out of his emptying himself, and becoming obedient to death, even the death of the cross. It is his highest reputation that he made himself of no reputation. His crown derives new luster from his cross….We must never forget this, and if ever we are tempted to merge the crucified Saviour in the coming King we should feel rebuked by the fact that thus we should rob our Lord of his highest honour.”(3)

Spurgeon expands on the paradoxical nature of death bringing forth life. It is only through the cross, just as a kernel of wheat must die in order to produce a harvest, that new life in Christ and reconciliation with God are accomplished. Most powerfully, Spurgeon notes that “this teaches us where the vital point of Christianity lies, Christ’s death is the life of his teaching. See here: if Christ’s preaching had been the essential point, or if his example had been the vital point, he could have brought forth fruit and multiplied Christians by his preaching, and by his example. But he declares that, except he shall die, he shall not bring forth fruit.”(4)

We see this paradox borne out every spring. Dead bulbs ugly, brown, and buried in dark soil all winter burst from their earthen tomb green with life and bright with color. Their glory disguised in ugly packaging, and one bulb producing green leaves and flowers in abundance. So it is with Jesus’s passion and death: glory and abundance come out of sorrow, shame, death and suffering. Encased in the cross of Golgotha is a beautiful, life giving seed.

Long before the beauty of Easter morning, a tiny kernel of wheat dies; it lays buried seemingly dead underground. This is a great paradox, but one in which we can come to glory, one in which we can find our lives.

See from his head, his hands, his feet
Sorrow and love flow mingled down
Did ere such love and sorrow meet
Or thorns compose so rich a crown?(5)

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

(1) John 12:24.
(2) The following theories of the atonement are based upon Millard Erickson’s Christian Theology (Grand Rapids: Baker Books, 1983), 781-823.
(3) “The Corn of Wheat Dying to Bring Forth Fruit: John 12:23-25,” Charles H. Spurgeon, Farm Sermons (c 1875), from http://textweek.com, accessed April 2, 2009.
(4) Ibid.
(5) “When I Survey the Wondrous Cross,” written by Isaac Watts, 1707.

Morning   “For he hath made him to be sin for us, who knew no sin; that we might be made

the righteousness of God in him.”

2 Corinthians 5:21

Mourning Christian! why weepest thou? Art thou mourning over thine own

corruptions? Look to thy perfect Lord, and remember, thou art complete in him;

thou art in God’s sight as perfect as if thou hadst never sinned; nay, more than

that, the Lord our Righteousness hath put a divine garment upon thee, so that

thou hast more than the righteousness of man–thou hast the righteousness of

God. O thou who art mourning by reason of inbred sin and depravity, remember,

none of thy sins can condemn thee. Thou hast learned to hate sin; but thou hast

learned also to know that sin is not thine–it was laid upon Christ’s head. Thy

standing is not in thyself–it is in Christ; thine acceptance is not in

thyself, but in thy Lord; thou art as much accepted of God today, with all thy

sinfulness, as thou wilt be when thou standest before his throne, free from all

corruption. O, I beseech thee, lay hold on this precious thought, perfection in

Christ! For thou art “complete in him.” With thy Saviour’s garment on, thou art

holy as the Holy one. “Who is he that condemneth? It is Christ that died, yea

rather, that is risen again, who is even at the right hand of God, who also

maketh intercession for us.” Christian, let thy heart rejoice, for thou art

“accepted in the beloved”–what hast thou to fear? Let thy face ever wear a

smile; live near thy Master; live in the suburbs of the Celestial City;

for soon, when thy time has come, thou shalt rise up where thy Jesus sits, and

reign at his right hand; and all this because the divine Lord “was made to be

sin for us, who knew no sin; that we might be made the righteousness of God in

him.”

Evening   “Come ye, and let us go up to the mountain of the Lord.”

Isaiah 2:3

It is exceedingly beneficial to our souls to mount above this present evil world

to something nobler and better. The cares of this world and the deceitfulness of

riches are apt to choke everything good within us, and we grow fretful,

desponding, perhaps proud and carnal. It is well for us to cut down these thorns

and briers, for heavenly seed sown among them is not likely to yield a harvest;

and where shall we find a better sickle with which to cut them down than

communion with God and the things of the kingdom? In the valleys of Switzerland,

many of the inhabitants are deformed, and all wear a sickly appearance, for the

atmosphere is charged with miasma, and is close and stagnant; but up

yonder, on the mountain, you find a hardy race, who breathe the clear fresh air

as it blows from the virgin snows of the Alpine summits. It would be well if the

dwellers in the valley could frequently leave their abodes among the marshes and

the fever mists, and inhale the bracing element upon the hills. It is to such an

exploit of climbing that I invite you this evening. May the Spirit of God assist

us to leave the mists of fear and the fevers of anxiety, and all the ills which

gather in this valley of earth, and to ascend the mountains of anticipated joy

and blessedness. May God the Holy Spirit cut the cords that keep us here below,

and assist us to mount! We sit too often like chained

eagles fastened to the rock, only that, unlike the eagle, we begin to love our

chain, and would, perhaps, if it came really to the test, be loath to have it

snapped. May God now grant us grace, if we cannot escape from the chain as to

our flesh, yet to do so as to our spirits; and leaving the body, like a servant,

at the foot of the hill, may our soul, like Abraham, attain the top of the

mountain, there to indulge in communion with the Most High.

All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way; and the Lord has laid on him the iniquity of us all.    Isaiah 53:6

Here a confession of sin is shared by all the elect people of God. They have all fallen, and therefore, in one voice, from the first who entered heaven to the last who shall arrive they all say, “All we like sheep have gone astray.”

This confession is not only unanimous, it is also special and particular: “We have turned every one to his own way.” All are sinful, but each individual faces his or her own peculiar sinfulness, which is not found in someone else. It is the mark of genuine repentance that while it naturally associates itself with other penitents, it also takes up a position of loneliness. “We have turned every one to his own way” is a confession that each individual had sinned against light peculiar to himself or sinned with an aggravation that he could not perceive in others.

This confession is unreserved; there is not a word to detract from its force, nor a syllable by way of excuse. This confession bids farewell to every plea of self-justification. It is the declaration of those who are consciously guilty—guilty with aggravations, guilty without excuse: they stand with their weapons of rebellion broken in pieces and cry, “All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way.”

Yet we hear no mournful wailings attending this confession of sin; for the next sentence makes it almost a song. “The LORD has laid on him the iniquity of us all.” It is the most grievous sentence of the three, but it overflows with comfort. How strange that where misery was concentrated, mercy reigned; where sorrow reached her climax, weary souls find rest. The Savior bruised is the healing of bruised hearts.

Consider how the humble confession gives way to assured confidence by simply gazing at Christ on the cross!

The family reading plan for April 3, 2012

Proverbs 21 | Colossians 4

Romans 6:1-14

Think back to when you received Christ as your Savior. You knew your life had changed but probably had no idea about everything that the salvation experience involved. You were declared righteous and sealed with the Holy Spirit, and God wrote your name in the Lamb’s Book of Life. But that wasn’t all. You were also crucified, buried, and raised with Christ.

This describes your position in God’s eyes, but what does it all mean? Paul tells us that “our old self was crucified with [Christ]” (v. 6). The person you are today is not who you were before salvation. Your old sin nature has died with Christ, which means that its power over you has been broken. Paul isn’t saying we’ll never transgress again, but now we don’t have to be enslaved to sin. Since we’ve been raised with Christ, He’s living within us, giving us the power to live obediently.

Our Father’s goal for us is that we become in practice what we are positionally. Many believers attempt to live the Christian life in their own strength by trying harder to overcome sin and live righteously. However, the crucified life is about a life replacement, not self-effort. Christ wants His life to flow through us so that we become living extensions of almighty God.

Every believer has been positionally identified with Christ’s death and resurrection, but the only ones who will experience this in a daily manner are those who are willing to die to themselves and let Christ live through them. Jesus wants to be more than your Lord; He wants to be your very life

Gordon Hempton is of the opinion that you can count on one hand the places in the United States where you can sit for twenty minutes without hearing a generator, a plane, or some other mechanized sound. (His estimation is all the more dreary for Europe.) As an audio ecologist, Hempton has traveled the world for more than twenty-five years searching for silence, measuring the decibels in hundreds of places, and recording the sharp decline of the sounds of nature. “I don’t want the absence of sound,” he tells one interviewer of his search. “I want the absence of noise.”  Adding, “Listening is worship.”(1)

For the Christian church, Holy Week begins a time of silence, a week of sitting in the dark with the jarring events from the triumphal entrance of Jesus into Jerusalem to the march of Christ to the grave. Holy Week moves the world through the shouts of Palm Sunday to the empty space of Holy Saturday. Though the Christian story clearly and loudly ends on the note of triumph and resurrection, there is a great silence in between, a great darkness we believe is necessary to sit with.

Writing of Holy Saturday, the day most marked with this silence, theology professor Alan Lewis says of the Christian story:  “Ironically, the center of the drama itself is an empty space. All the action and emotion, it seems, belong to two days only: despair and joy, dark and light, defeat and victory, the end and the beginning, evenly distributed in vivid contrast between what humanity did to Jesus on the first day and what God did for him on the third… [Yet] between the crucifying and the raising there is interposed a brief, inert void: a nonevent surely—only a time of waiting in which nothing of significance occurs and of which there is little to be said. It is rare to hear a sermon about Easter Saturday; for much of Christian history the day has found no place in liturgy and worship it could call its own.”(2)

Perhaps this is because we are generally uncomfortable with silence, uncomforted by waiting. We don’t understand a messiah who stands at the crossroads of an identity as a deliverer, a political hero who could fight with force for our salvation and that of a servant, a messiah who chooses intentional suffering, who chooses to walk us through darkness on the way to redemption. If Holy Week is filled with events that silence us in disbelief, Holy Saturday levels us with the silence and emptiness that is the end of God.

Yet Holy Week attempts to prepare the world precisely for this silence. For certainly, here, after the end of God on Easter Saturday, we find not only the absence of sound, the absence of noise, but the end of the world—confirming our despair and doubt, the fear that history is meaningless, that evil is in control, and our future perilous. Such silence is one in which we can only manage a redirected cry for “Hosanna,” a reiterating of the lighthearted cheers of Palm Sunday, a desperate prayer for a Messiah to save us now, to deliver us from evil and emptiness.

Such is indeed the cry of the Christian. Professor and psychologist James Loder tells of the case of Willa, a young adult who was hospitalized and classified as schizophrenic of an undifferentiated type. She was born into a home where she was unwanted and abused. She was a bright child, but everyone took advantage of her such that she grew up with no sense of boundary or healthy relationships. Tragically, the very individuals who pledged to help her also became stories of abuse in her life. She was in the second year of graduate school when she finally broke down and could not finish her examinations.

In the hospital, she sat for hours rocking her doll and staring into space. The head nurse on the floor told Dr. Loder that they expected Willa would never leave the hospital. One day, however, while she was sitting in her chair, someone came up behind her, put arms around her and said, “The silence is not empty; there is purpose for your life.” She turned around, but there was no one there. The power of that experience began to build sanity, and to distinguish illusion from reality. While no one thought she would ever leave the hospital, she was released after three weeks. She was eventually baptized and returned to the profession for which she was training. Commenting on this encounter with God in the silence when all else seems lost, Loder writes: “The intimacy of the Spirit runs deeper than family violence and neglect, and has immense restorative power.”(3) Truly, the intimacy of God runs deeper than silence.

This is the story Holy Week sets before the world this week. There is much to listen for in between the crucifying and the raising. There is always much silence and darkness to sit with, but it is never fully empty.

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

(1) Diane Daniel, “Listening is worship,” Ode Magazine, July 2008.
(2) Alan E. Lewis, Between Cross and Resurrection:  A Theology of Holy Saturday (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2001), 1.
(3) Story as told by James Loder, The Logic of the Spirit (San Francisco: Jossey-Bass, 1998), 264-265.

Morning    “They took Jesus, and led him away.”    John 19:16

He had been all night in agony, he had spent the early morning at the hall of

Caiaphas, he had been hurried from Caiaphas to Pilate, from Pilate to Herod, and

from Herod back again to Pilate; he had, therefore, but little strength left,

and yet neither refreshment nor rest were permitted him. They were eager for his

blood, and therefore led him out to die, loaded with the cross. O dolorous

procession! Well may Salem’s daughters weep. My soul, do thou weep also.

What learn we here as we see our blessed Lord led forth? Do we not perceive that

truth which was set forth in shadow by the scapegoat? Did not the high-priest

bring the scapegoat, and put both his hands upon its head, confessing the sins

of the people, that thus those sins might be laid upon the goat, and cease from

the people? Then the goat was led away by a fit man into the wilderness, and it

carried away the sins of the people, so that if they were sought for they could

not be found. Now we see Jesus brought before the priests and rulers, who

pronounce him guilty; God himself imputes our sins to him, “the Lord hath laid

on him the iniquity of us all;” “He was made sin for us;” and, as

the substitute for our guilt, bearing our sin upon his shoulders, represented

by the cross; we see the great Scapegoat led away by the appointed officers of

justice. Beloved, can you feel assured that he carried your sin? As you look at

the cross upon his shoulders, does it represent your sin? There is one way by

which you can tell whether he carried your sin or not. Have you laid your hand

upon his head, confessed your sin, and trusted in him? Then your sin lies not on

you; it has all been transferred by blessed imputation to Christ, and he bears

it on his shoulder as a load heavier than the cross.

Let not the picture vanish till you have rejoiced in your own deliverance, and

adored the loving Redeemer upon whom your iniquities were laid.

Evening    “All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way;

and the Lord hath laid on him the iniquity of us all.”    Isaiah 53:6

Here a confession of sin common to all the elect people of God. They have all

fallen, and therefore, in common chorus, they all say, from the first who

entered heaven to the last who shall enter there, “All we like sheep have gone

astray.” The confession, while thus unanimous, is also special and particular:

“We have turned every one to his own way.” There is a peculiar sinfulness about

every one of the individuals; all are sinful, but each one with some special

aggravation not found in his fellow. It is the mark of genuine repentance that

while it naturally associates itself with other penitents, it also takes up a

position of loneliness. “We have turned every one to his own way,” is a

confession that each man had sinned against light peculiar to himself, or

sinned with an aggravation which he could not perceive in others. This

confession is unreserved; there is not a word to detract from its force, nor a

syllable by way of excuse. The confession is a giving up of all pleas of

self-righteousness. It is the declaration of men who are consciously

guilty–guilty with aggravations, guilty without excuse: they stand with their

weapons of rebellion broken in pieces, and cry, “All we like sheep have gone

astray; we have turned every one to his own way.” Yet we hear no dolorous

wailings attending this confession of sin; for the next sentence makes it almost

a song. “The Lord

hath laid on him the iniquity of us all.” It is the most grievous sentence of

the three, but it overflows with comfort. Strange is it that where misery was

concentrated mercy reigned; where sorrow reached her climax weary souls find

rest. The Saviour bruised is the healing of bruised hearts. See how the lowliest

penitence gives place to assured confidence through simply gazing at Christ on

the cross!

He shall see his offspring; he shall prolong his days; the will of the Lord shall prosper in his hand.      Isaiah 53:10

Ask God to fulfill this promise quickly, all you who love the Lord. It is easy work to pray when our desires are fixed and established on God’s own promise. How can He who gave the word refuse to keep it? Immutable truth cannot demean itself by a lie, and eternal faithfulness cannot degrade itself by neglect. God must bless His Son—His covenant binds Him to it.

The Spirit prompts us to ask for Jesus what God the Father decrees to give Him. Whenever you are praying for the kingdom of Christ, let your eyes behold the dawning of the blessed day that draws near, when the Crucified will receive His coronation in the place where men rejected Him.

Take courage, you who prayerfully work for Christ with only scant success—it will not always be this way; better times are ahead. Your eyes cannot see the wonderful future: borrow the telescope of faith; wipe the misty breath of your doubts from the viewfinder; look through it and behold the coming glory.

Reader, let us ask, do you make this your constant prayer? Remember that the same Christ who tells us to say, “Give us each day our daily bread,” first gave us this petition, “Hallowed be your name; your kingdom come; your will be done in earth as it is in heaven.” Do not let your prayers be all about your own sins, your own desires, your own imperfections, your own trials, but let them climb the starry ladder and get up to Christ Himself, and then as you draw near to the blood-sprinkled mercy-seat, offer this prayer continually: “Lord, extend the kingdom of Your dear Son.”

When you fervently present such a petition, it will elevate the spirit of all your devotions. Make sure that you prove the sincerity of your prayer by working to promote the Lord’s glory.

The family reading plan for April 2, 2012

Proverbs 20 | Colossians 3

1 John 3:19-24

Have guilty feelings created a wall that prevents you from receiving God’s unconditional love? Perhaps you still haven’t accepted His forgiveness for something you’ve done in the past. Until you do, you will continue to deprive yourself of the divine love He wants you to experience.

Or maybe the problem is that you carry around a false sense of guilt–you don’t know why you feel ashamed, but you do. The Holy Spirit clearly convicts us of sin so we can repent and be free. But a pervasive, vague sense of guilt with no specific cause comes from the Devil. Ask God to cleanse you of it. Jesus died for you so that you could be free!

Another source of guilt is legalistic teaching. Many people have been taught a distorted version of the gospel and think, I’ll never measure up. That’s the kind of message the religious leaders of Jesus’ time communicated: Unless you do this, God won’t accept you; if you do that, you’ll go to hell. Pharisaical living involves trying to earn the Lord’s acceptance through your own power–righteous deed by righteous deed. Since no one can please Him this way, attempting to do so leads to bondage. Jesus came to liberate us from this slavery. It’s time to let His grace and love cleanse you from any shame weighing you down.

The Bible says that when you are set free by Christ, your freedom is complete (John 8:36). Reject Satan’s lie that you are separated from the liberty found in Jesus’ love. Then ask the Lord to help you walk in the truth. You can again experience the joy of unhindered fellowship with your Savior

In churches all over the world this Sunday, children will march among the aisles with palm branches, a commemoration of the first jubilant Palm Sunday. The palm branch is a symbol of triumph, waved in ancient times to welcome royalty and extol the victorious. Palms were also used to cover the paths of those worthy of honor and distinction. All four of the gospel writers report that Jesus was given such a tribute. Jesus came into Jerusalem riding on a colt, and he was greeted as King. The crowds laid branches and garments on the streets in front of him. An audience of applauders led him into the city and followed after him with chants of blessing and shouts of kingship.

Hosanna!
Blessed is he who comes in the name of the LORD!
The King of Israel!

Hosanna in the highest!

The triumph of Palm Sunday is not lost on the young. Long before I could see it’s strange place in the passion narrative, I loved celebrating this story as a child. It was a day in church set apart from others. In a place where we were commonly asked to sit still, we suddenly had permission to cheer and march and draw attention.

But like many stories in childhood that grow complicated as the chapters continue, Palm Sunday is far more than a triumphant recollection of Jesus’s entry into Jerusalem.  The convicting irony of the holiday Christians celebrate strikes with each cheer of victory, for we reenact a scene that dramatically changed in a matter of days. In less time than it takes to plan a king’s coronation, cheers of “Hosanna!” became shouts of crucifixion. The honor that was extended with palms and praises was taken back shortly after it was placed before him. The troubling reality to the triumph of Palm Sunday is that we now know the defeat of the cross is yet to come.

But it is also more than this. With Palm Sunday comes the arrival of holy week in all its darkness, in all its blinding mystery. Would I have been with the marching crowd that cheered him as king only to cheer again as he was marched to Golgotha? What I long to imagine was a fickle crowd—an illustration of the power of “mobthink,” or a sign of a hard-hearted people—only reminds me of my own vacillations with the Son of God. How easily our declarations that he is Lord become denials of his existence with the turn of mood or fortune. How readily hands waving in praise and celebration become fists raised at the heavens in pain or hardship. Like a palm laid down and taken back again, honor bestowed on Sunday can easily be abandoned by Wednesday.

Such are the thoughts my adult mind carries through the story in which I once took only delight. With palms in our hands, we carry the burden of awareness that Jesus himself carried through that first crowd. Though we might suspect or even recognize a Messianic figure before us, we will turn from him. Though we might labor to follow his ways, we will fall short and take back whatever intentions we once laid at his feet. Riding through the streets of Jerusalem, Jesus knew then what he knows now: This honor will be abandoned, the praises will cease, and these branches will be trampled to dust. The cross will still come.

How fitting, then, that in many churches the remains of Palm Sunday literally become the ashes of Ash Wednesday. The palms are burned and the ashes collected. Then on Ash Wednesday services the following year, the ashes are used to mark foreheads with the sign of the cross, the reminder of our humanity, the beginning of another journey toward the mysterious gift of the cross.

This week Christians invite the world to remember the one who comes into the midst of a fickle humanity—duplicity, defeat, violence, injustice, pain, and all. He comes near to good and bad intentions, near the ashes of what was meant to be honor, and the ruins of attempts on our own. Despite oscillating thoughts, despite sin we cannot leave, he invites us into a different story of defeat. The Son has made his triumphal entry. He comes to bring us to the cross, to the one sacrifice that takes away the world’s pain.

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

Morning    “With his stripes we are healed.”

Isaiah 53:5

Pilate delivered our Lord to the lictors to be scourged. The Roman scourge was a

most dreadful instrument of torture. It was made of the sinews of oxen, and

sharp bones were inter-twisted every here and there among the sinews; so that

every time the lash came down these pieces of bone inflicted fearful laceration,

and tore off the flesh from the bone. The Saviour was, no doubt, bound to the

column, and thus beaten. He had been beaten before; but this of the Roman

lictors was probably the most severe of his flagellations. My soul, stand here

and weep over his poor stricken body.

Believer in Jesus, can you gaze upon him without tears, as he stands before you

the mirror of agonizing love? He is at once fair as the lily for innocence, and

red as the rose with the crimson of his own blood. As we feel the sure and

blessed healing which his stripes have wrought in us, does not our heart melt at

once with love and grief? If ever we have loved our Lord Jesus, surely we must

feel that affection glowing now within our bosoms.

“See how the patient Jesus stands,

Insulted in his lowest case!

Sinners have bound the Almighty’s hands,

And spit in their Creator’s face.

With thorns his temples gor’d and gash’d

Send streams of blood from every part;

His back’s with knotted scourges lash’d.

But sharper scourges tear his heart.”

We would fain go to our chambers and weep; but since our business calls us away,

we will first pray our Beloved to print the image of his bleeding self upon the

tablets of our hearts all the day, and at nightfall we will return to commune

with him, and sorrow that our sin should have cost him so dear.

Evening    “And Rizpah the daughter of Aiah took sackcloth, and spread it for her upon the

rock, from the beginning of harvest until water dropped upon them out of heaven,

and suffered neither the birds of the air to rest on them by day, nor the beasts

of the field by night.”

2 Samuel 21:10

If the love of a woman to her slain sons could make her prolong her mournful

vigil for so long a period, shall we weary of considering the sufferings of our

blessed Lord? She drove away the birds of prey, and shall not we chase from our

meditations those worldly and sinful thoughts which defile both our minds and

the sacred themes upon which we are occupied? Away, ye birds of evil wing! Leave

ye the sacrifice alone! She bore the heats of summer, the night dews and the

rains, unsheltered and alone. Sleep was chased from her weeping eyes: her heart

was too full for slumber. Behold how she loved her children! Shall Rizpah thus

endure, and shall we start at the first little inconvenience or

trial? Are we such cowards that we cannot bear to suffer with our Lord? She

chased away even the wild beasts, with courage unusual in her sex, and will not

we be ready to encounter every foe for Jesus’ sake? These her children were

slain by other hands than hers, and yet she wept and watched: what ought we to

do who have by our sins crucified our Lord? Our obligations are boundless, our

love should be fervent and our repentance thorough. To watch with Jesus should

be our business, to protect his honour our occupation, to abide by his cross our

solace. Those ghastly corpses might well have affrighted Rizpah, especially by

night, but in our Lord, at whose cross-foot we are sitting, there is

nothing revolting, but everything attractive. Never was living beauty so

enchanting as a dying Saviour. Jesus, we will watch with thee yet awhile, and do

thou graciously unveil thyself to us; then shall we not sit beneath sackcloth,

but in a royal pavilion.

Let us test and examine our ways, and return to the Lord!

Lamentations 3:40

The wife who fondly loves her absent husband longs for his return; a long protracted separation from him is a semi-death to her spirit. And so it is with souls who love the Savior much; they need to see His face; they cannot bear that He should be away, thus depriving them of communion with Him. A reproaching glance, an uplifted finger will be grievous to loving children who fear to offend their tender father and are only happy in his smile.

Beloved, it was so once this way with you. A text of Scripture, a threatening, a touch of the rod of affliction, and you went to your Father’s feet, crying, “Let me know why you contend against me.” Is that still the case? Or are you content to follow Jesus from a distance? Can you contemplate broken communion with Christ without being alarmed? Can you bear to have your Beloved walking contrary to you, because you walk contrary to Him? Have your sins separated between you and your God, and is your heart at rest?

Let me affectionately warn you, for it is a grievous thing when we can live contentedly without the present enjoyment of the Savior’s face. Let us work to feel what an evil thing this is–little love to our own dying Savior, little joy in His company, little time with the Beloved! Hold a true Lent in your souls, while you sorrow over your hardness of heart. Do not stop at sorrow! Remember where you first received salvation. Go at once to the cross. There, and there only, can you get your spirit quickened. No matter how hard, how insensible, how dead we may have become, let us go again in all the rags and poverty and defilement of our natural condition. Let us clasp that cross, let us look into those languid eyes, let us bathe in that fountain filled with blood–this will bring back to us our first love; this will restore the simplicity of our faith and the tenderness of our heart.

The family reading plan for March 30, 2012

Proverbs 17 | Philippians 4

Psalm 25:12

What makes a person acceptable to God? The path to redemption begins not with the decision to live a better life or to stop doing something wrong, but with the realization that we cannot correct our sinful nature. To find favor with the Lord, we must grasp that it’s impossible to make ourselves righteous; instead, we need to depend on the sacrifice Jesus made on our behalf. When we trust in Christ as our Savior, God the Father applies the benefit of Jesus’ atoning sacrifice to our sin debt, thereby making us “saved,” or acceptable in His eyes.

Your good works and righteous acts are of absolutely no value in the mind of God. Compared to others’ actions, your generosity and good works might seem like enough to bring favor with the Lord, but Jesus said, “Not as a result of works, so that no one may boast” (Eph. 2:9). When you stand before God, the only way you can be forgiven of your sins is through Jesus Christ and His sacrificial, substitutionary atoning death at Calvary. Jesus came to give His life as a ransom for many (Mark 10:45).

Jesus’ public crucifixion was a demonstration of God’s hatred for sin and immense love for mankind. He who was blameless bore the penalty for all in order that wicked, corrupt people could be made righteous.

No matter what you’ve done, you can be cleansed of the stain left by sin. Confess any known transgressions and turn from them; then Jesus will forgive you and write your name in the Lamb’s Book of Life (1 John 1:9; Rev. 21:27). By trusting in Him, you are assured of eternity in His presence

A common claim made by many atheists is that religion causes evil, suffering, division and war. For example, at the Munk Debate in Toronto last November, Christopher Hitchens argued this very point against Tony Blair. Religion, Hitchens claimed, causes sectarianism, division, strife, disagreement, war, poverty and a host of societal evils. In his best-selling book, God is Not Great, Hitchens even wrote that “religion poisons everything.”

How might a Christian respond? Well, first, I’d point out there’s a major problem with Hitchens’ argument. You could remove the word “religion” from his statement “religion poisons everything” and replace it with many other words. Politics, for example. Politics causes division, bloodshed, argument, and war. Politics poisons everything. Or what about money? Money causes crime, resentment, bloodshed, division and poverty. Money poisons everything.

You see the problem is that atheists like Christopher Hitchens have built their worldview on the idea that human beings are essentially good and that the world is getting better—a kind of naïve utopianism. But the world isn’t like that, is it? Rather, it seems to be the case that whatever human beings lay hold off, they use to cause damage. That applies to money, politics, government, science—and religion. The problem is not with religion or politics, the problem is not out there somewhere, the problem lies in here, in the human heart.

Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, the Russian novelist and political commentator, who survived the Russian gulags and wrote with amazing insight into the human condition, once famously said this: “The dividing line between good and evil runs right through the middle of every human heart.” What the world needs, as an answer to violence and injustice, poverty and pain, is not a clever philosophy, not a religious system, not a new politic, not more money, more education—none of these will fundamentally change anything. Rather, it needs individual transformation, a radical transformation of the human heart. Only Jesus Christ offers that possibility if we are willing to surrender our lives to him.

I often find it interesting to point out to my atheist friends that Jesus himself was also anti-religion. He regularly clashed with the religious leaders of his day because he saw empty religion as powerless, damaging, and enslaving. Ultimately that stance led to his crucifixion. And Christians, of course, cannot talk about suffering and evil, pain, and violence, without talking about the example of Jesus, one to whom violence was done. His example has inspired millions if not billions of Christians to give sacrificially, to love their neighbors, to engage in peace making. One of the most powerful recent examples was the Amish School Shooting in 2006. Not only did the families of the victims publically forgive the perpetrator and offer pastoral support to his family, they set up a trust fund to help the wife of the shooter, who had killed himself too. Only Jesus Christ offers the transformative power that makes that kind of choice possible.

Andy Bannister is a member of the speaking team at Ravi Zacharias International Ministries in Toronto, Canada.

Morning     “He was numbered with the transgressors.”

Isaiah 53:12

Why did Jesus suffer himself to be enrolled amongst sinners? This wonderful

condescension was justified by many powerful reasons. In such a character he

could the better become their advocate. In some trials there is an

identification of the counsellor with the client, nor can they be looked upon in

the eye of the law as apart from one another. Now, when the sinner is brought to

the bar, Jesus appears there himself. He stands to answer the accusation. He

points to his side, his hands, his feet, and challenges Justice to bring

anything against the sinners whom he represents; he pleads his blood, and pleads

so triumphantly, being numbered with them and having a part with them, that the

Judge   proclaims, “Let them go their way; deliver them from going down into the pit,

for he hath found a ransom.” Our Lord Jesus was numbered with the transgressors

in order that they might feel their hearts drawn towards him. Who can be afraid

of one who is written in the same list with us? Surely we may come boldly to

him, and confess our guilt. He who is numbered with us cannot condemn us. Was he

not put down in the transgressor’s list that we might be written in the red roll

of the saints? He was holy, and written among the holy; we were guilty, and

numbered among the guilty; he transfers his name from yonder list to this black

indictment, and our names are taken from the indictment and

written in the roll of acceptance, for there is a complete transfer made

between Jesus and his people. All our estate of misery and sin Jesus has taken;

and all that Jesus has comes to us. His righteousness, his blood, and everything

that he hath he gives us as our dowry. Rejoice, believer, in your union to him

who was numbered among the transgressors; and prove that you are truly saved by

being manifestly numbered with those who are new creatures in him.

Evening     “Let us search and try our ways, and turn again to the Lord.”

Lamentations 3:40

The spouse who fondly loves her absent husband longs for his return; a long

protracted separation from her lord is a semi-death to her spirit: and so with

souls who love the Saviour much, they must see his face, they cannot bear that

he should be away upon the mountains of Bether, and no more hold communion with

them. A reproaching glance, an uplifted finger will be grievous to loving

children, who fear to offend their tender father, and are only happy in his

smile. Beloved, it was so once with you. A text of Scripture, a threatening, a

touch of the rod of affliction, and you went to your Father’s feet, crying,

“Show me wherefore thou contendest with me?” Is it so now? Are you content to

follow Jesus afar off? Can you contemplate suspended communion with Christ

without alarm? Can you bear to have your Beloved walking contrary to you,

because you walk contrary to him? Have your sins separated between you and your

God, and is your heart at rest? O let me affectionately warn you, for it is a

grievous thing when we can live contentedly without the present enjoyment of the

Saviour’s face. Let us labour to feel what an evil thing this is–little love to

our own dying Saviour, little joy in our precious Jesus, little fellowship with

the Beloved! Hold a true Lent in your souls, while you sorrow over your hardness

of heart. Do not stop at sorrow! Remember where you first received

salvation. Go at once to the cross. There, and there only, can you get your

spirit quickened. No matter how hard, how insensible, how dead we may have

become, let us go again in all the rags and poverty, and defilement of our

natural condition. Let us clasp that cross, let us look into those languid eyes,

let us bathe in that fountain filled with blood–this will bring back to us our

first love; this will restore the simplicity of our faith, and the tenderness of

our heart.

I called him, but he gave no answer.     Song of Songs 5:6

Prayer sometimes lingers, like a petitioner at the gate, until the King comes with the blessings that she seeks. The Lord, when He has given great faith, has been known to test it by long delays. He has allowed His servants’ voices to echo in their ears as if the heavens were brass. They have knocked at the golden gate, but it has remained immovable, as though it were rusted upon its hinges. Like Jeremiah, they have cried, “You have wrapped yourself with a cloud so that no prayer can pass through.”3

In this manner true saints have continued to wait patiently without a reply, not because their prayers were not strong, nor because they were unaccepted, but because it so pleased Him who is a Sovereign and who gives according to His own pleasure. If it pleases Him to test our patience, shall He not do as He wishes with His children? Beggars must not be choosers either as to time, place, or form.

But we must be careful not to take delays in prayer for denials. God’s postdated checks will be punctually honored; we must not allow Satan to shake our confidence in the God of truth by pointing to our unanswered prayers. Unanswered petitions are not unheard. God keeps a file for our prayers–they are not blown away by the wind; they are treasured in the King’s archives. This is a registry in the court of heaven in which every prayer is recorded.

Struggling believer, your Lord has as it were a tear-bottle in which the costly drops of your sacred grief are put away, and a book in which your holy groanings are numbered. By-and-by your case shall prevail. Can you not be content to wait a little? Will the Lord’s time not be better than yours? By-and-by He will comfortably appear, to your soul’s joy, and will cause you to put away the sackcloth and ashes of long waiting and put on the scarlet and fine linen of full fruition.

3 Lamentations 3:44

The family reading plan for March 29, 2012

Proverbs 16 | Philippians 3

Romans 3:20-26

As Christians, we know that Jesus died on the cross for our sins. But why did He have to endure such an awful death? Couldn’t He have redeemed humanity in some easier way?

To answer this question, we must first consider the righteousness of God. Because He is holy, no one has ever seen Him and lived. Our sinful nature cannot exist in the presence of pure holiness. The Bible tells us that “all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God” (Rom. 3:23), and we know that “the wages of sin is death” (6:23). This reality leaves us in a lost condition, eternally separated from God.

When sin entered the world, Adam and Eve fell into a state of mortality. Their transgressions created a barrier between them and the Lord, with the result that mankind became depraved, rebellious, and a natural enemy of God. Our sinful nature couldn’t redeem itself; rather, it had to be redeemed by something greater and purer. A sacrifice was required–one that was spotless and without blemish.

Because our heavenly Father created us for Himself–to bring Him glory and to spend eternity with Him (1 Tim. 2:4)–He provided the only offering powerful enough to reverse the effects of sin and restore us to our original purpose.

When Jesus died on the cross, He paid the price for all sin, beginning with Adam and spanning the ages. His awesome love and mercy applies to you as well (Eph. 1:5-6). He sealed you with the Holy Spirit (4:30), and you are forever His child, saved by grace for all eternity

“Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.” This thought is often given as rationale for casting any type of public moralizing aside. Evidently, we cannot completely shake off our bequest from a Christian worldview. Ironically, this moral conviction is often given with the reminder that all morality is a private matter and not for public enforcement. But if all moral convictions are a private matter, why is this very conviction itself not kept private too? Why is it publicly enjoined?

When I ask citers of this verse if they are aware of the context in which these words were uttered, it is often unknown. One said it had to do with the woman in adultery.  I asked if he was aware of what prompted that imperative and to whom Jesus aimed those words. There was silence. Significantly, the entire confrontation came about because the Pharisees were seeking to trap Jesus into either explicitly defending the Law of Moses or implicitly overruling it. The whole scenario was a ploy, not to seek out the truth of a moral law, but to trap Jesus.

Fascinatingly, Jesus exposed their own spiritual bankruptcy by showing them that at the heart of law is God’s very character. There is a spiritual essence that precedes moral injunctions. So when we vociferously demand that only the one without sin may cast the first stone we also need to grant credence to God’s character in numerous other pronouncements. But for some, sin is not even a viable category. This selective use of Scripture is the very game the questioners of Jesus were playing. When the law is quoted while the reality of sin is denied, self-aggrandizing motives can override character. Thus, in our spiritually amputated world, the art of obscuring truth has become a

Herein lies what I believe the crucial death of our character. There is no transcendent context within which to discuss moral theory. Just as words in order to have meaning must point beyond themselves to a commonly understood real existence, so also, must the reality point beyond itself to commonly accepted essence. Otherwise, reality has no moral quotient and moral meaning dissolves into the subjective, rendering it beyond debate. Only the transcendent can unchangingly provide fixed moral worth.

But this death of the transcendent comes with a two-edged sword, both for the skeptic and the Christian alike. Yes, the law has moral value, but not as a means for shrewd lawyers to play deadly word games, minimize immorality, and kill the truth. At the same time the law has spiritual value so that we do not destroy the truly repentant individual. The grace of God abounds to the worst in our midst. Hidden in the odious nature of our failures is the scandalous secret of God’s forgiveness. When the prodigal returned, the anger he faced was not the father’s but the older son’s who failed to understand how marvelous was the grace of his father. Throughout history, God’s way of dealing with the reckless has disclosed how dramatic are God’s ways. We must allow for such possibilities. “My son was dead, but is now alive.” Death lay in the wanderings of the passions and the seriousness of wrongdoing. Life was spelled in true repentance to return and “sin no more.” But let us take note. Forgiveness is offered in full recognition of the heinousness of what is being forgiven.

On the contrary, when words, consequences, and transcendent contexts have died, a pigsty awaits. Only if we remember our Father’s address can we know where to return for forgiveness and love. But if we insist upon arguing as quick-witted political power-mongers or legal wordsmiths with no spiritual context, we may kill both law and love. This, I am afraid, is the abyss over which we often hover.

Yet I am confident that as precipitous as the edge seems, God has always been in the business of rescue. The truth is that as human beings we all fall short. Our only hope is in God’s ways, through which forgiveness and responsibility come in balance. There is indeed another bridge, one on which a body was broken so that a path was made that we might cross over and live. In that cross lie both judgment and mercy. The Judge of all the earth cannot be fooled by shades of meaning, nor was Christ obliterated by the shadows of death.

God is our help and our hope in ages past and years to come.

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

Morning    “Though he were a Son, yet learned he obedience by the things which he suffered.”

Hebrews 5:8

We are told that the Captain of our salvation was made perfect through

suffering, therefore we who are sinful, and who are far from being perfect, must

not wonder if we are called to pass through suffering too. Shall the head be

crowned with thorns, and shall the other members of the body be rocked upon the

dainty lap of ease? Must Christ pass through seas of his own blood to win the

crown, and are we to walk to heaven dryshod in silver slippers? No, our Master’s

experience teaches us that suffering is necessary, and the true-born child of

God must not, would not, escape it if he might. But there is one very comforting

thought in the fact of Christ’s “being made perfect through

suffering”–it is, that he can have complete sympathy with us. “He is not an

high priest that cannot be touched with the feeling of our infirmities.” In this

sympathy of Christ we find a sustaining power. One of the early martyrs said, “I

can bear it all, for Jesus suffered, and he suffers in me now; he sympathizes

with me, and this makes me strong.” Believer, lay hold of this thought in all

times of agony. Let the thought of Jesus strengthen you as you follow in his

steps. Find a sweet support in his sympathy; and remember that, to suffer is an

honourable thing–to suffer for Christ is glory. The apostles rejoiced that they

were counted worthy to do this. Just so far as the Lord shall

give us grace to suffer for Christ, to suffer with Christ, just so far does he

honour us. The jewels of a Christian are his afflictions. The regalia of the

kings whom God hath anointed are their troubles, their sorrows, and their

griefs. Let us not, therefore, shun being honoured. Let us not turn aside from

being exalted. Griefs exalt us, and troubles lift us up. “If we suffer, we shall

also reign with him.”

Evening    “I called him, but he gave me no answer.”

Song of Solomon 5:6

Prayer sometimes tarrieth, like a petitioner at the gate, until the King cometh

forth to fill her bosom with the blessings which she seeketh. The Lord, when he

hath given great faith, has been known to try it by long delayings. He has

suffered his servants’ voices to echo in their ears as from a brazen sky. They

have knocked at the golden gate, but it has remained immovable, as though it

were rusted upon its hinges. Like Jeremiah, they have cried, “Thou hast covered

thyself with a cloud, that our prayer should not pass through.” Thus have true

saints continued long in patient waiting without reply, not because their

prayers were not vehement, nor because they were unaccepted, but because it

so pleased him who is a Sovereign, and who gives according to his own pleasure.

If it pleases him to bid our patience exercise itself, shall he not do as he

wills with his own! Beggars must not be choosers either as to time, place, or

form. But we must be careful not to take delays in prayer for denials: God’s

long-dated bills will be punctually honoured; we must not suffer Satan to shake

our confidence in the God of truth by pointing to our unanswered prayers.

Unanswered petitions are not unheard. God keeps a file for our prayers–they are

not blown away by the wind, they are treasured in the King’s archives. This is a

registry in the court of heaven wherein every prayer is recorded.

Tried believer, thy Lord hath a tear-bottle in which the costly drops of sacred

grief are put away, and a book in which thy holy groanings are numbered. By and

by, thy suit shall prevail. Canst thou not be content to wait a little? Will not

thy Lord’s time be better than thy time? By and by he will comfortably appear,

to thy soul’s joy, and make thee put away the sackcloth and ashes of long

waiting, and put on the scarlet and fine linen of full fruition.

As a pleasing aroma I will accept you.    Ezekiel 20:41

The merits of our great Redeemer are as a pleasing aroma to the Most High. Whether we speak of the active or passive righteousness of Christ, there is an equal fragrance. There was a pleasing aroma in His active life by which He honored the law of God and made every precept to glitter like a precious jewel in the pure setting of His own person.

Such, too, was His passive obedience, when He endured with unmurmuring submission hunger and thirst, cold and nakedness, and at the end sweat as it were great drops of blood in Gethsemane. He gave His back to the smiters and His cheeks to them that plucked out the hair and was fastened to the cruel wood, that He might suffer the wrath of God in our behalf. These two things are sweet before the Most High; and for the sake of His doing and His dying, His substitutionary sufferings and His vicarious obedience, the Lord our God accepts us.

What a preciousness there must be in Him to overcome our lack of preciousness! What a pleasing aroma to put away our nasty odor! What a cleansing power in His blood to take away sin such as ours! And what glory in His righteousness to make such unacceptable creatures to be accepted in the Beloved!

Consider, believer, how sure and unchanging is our acceptance, since it is in Him! Take care that you never doubt your acceptance in Jesus. You cannot be accepted without Christ; but when you have received His merit, you cannot be unaccepted. Despite all your doubts and fears and sins, Jehovah’s gracious eye never looks upon you in anger; though He sees sin in you, in yourself, yet when He looks at you through Christ, He sees no sin. You are always accepted in Christ, are always blessed and dear to the Father’s heart. Therefore lift up a song, and as you see the smoking incense of the Savior’s merit coming up this evening before the sapphire throne, let the incense of your praise go up also.

The family reading plan for March 28, 2012

Proverbs 15 | Philippians 2

James 1:17-27

If you want to genuinely grow in spiritual maturity, it is not enough to simply be instructed by the Word of God. You may love going to church or listening to Christian radio programs. You might talk about everything you hear and assume you’re growing because your knowledge is increasing. However, if you don’t actually grow closer to God by allowing His Word to change you from the inside out, your head will merely continue to fill with information. You might even sound like a godly person who is admired for the ability to quote chapter and verse. But if you don’t take the next step and allow God to touch others’ lives through you, you’re missing the point.

Spiritual growth is the result of practicing the truth you receive from God. He wants you to give away what He gives you–that is, by loving and serving others and sharing the truth of the gospel. Our example is Jesus, who said that He did not come to be served, but to serve even the lowest outcasts in His society (Matt. 20:28). He could have exalted Himself and spent all His time preaching and teaching. Instead, Jesus did only the Father’s will, which was to reveal His heart of love to a broken world. The Lord sacrificially involved Himself in people’s lives, and He calls us to follow in His footsteps.

God’s plan is to reach the world through you. If that weren’t the case, He would have taken you to heaven as soon as you were saved. But you are here for a purpose–to live out Christ’s life alongside hurting people who desperately need to experience His love