Morning    “The sword of the Lord, and of Gideon.” / Judges 7:20

Gideon ordered his men to do two things: covering up a torch in an earthen
pitcher, he bade them, at an appointed signal, break the pitcher and let the
light shine, and then sound with the trumpet, crying, “The sword of the Lord,
and of Gideon! the sword of the Lord, and of Gideon!” This is precisely what
all Christians must do. First, you must shine; break the pitcher which
conceals your light; throw aside the bushel which has been hiding your candle,
and shine. Let your light shine before men; let your good works be such, that
when men look upon you, they shall know that you have been with Jesus. Then
there must be the sound, the blowing of the trumpet. There must be active
exertions for the ingathering of sinners by proclaiming Christ crucified. Take
the gospel to them; carry it to their door; put it in their way; do not suffer
them to escape it; blow the trumpet right against their ears. Remember that
the true war-cry of the Church is Gideon’s watchword, “The sword of the Lord,
and of Gideon!” God must do it, it is his own work. But we are not to be idle;
instrumentality is to be used–“The sword of the Lord, and of Gideon!” If we
only cry, “The sword of the Lord!” we shall be guilty of an idle presumption;
and if we shout, “The sword of Gideon!” alone, we shall manifest idolatrous
reliance on an arm of flesh: we must blend the two in practical harmony, “The
sword of the Lord, and of Gideon!” We can do nothing of ourselves, but we can
do everything by the help of our God; let us, therefore, in his name determine
to go out personally and serve with our flaming torch of holy example, and
with our trumpet tones of earnest declaration and testimony, and God shall be
with us, and Midian shall be put to confusion, and the Lord of hosts shall
reign forever and ever.

Evening  “In the evening withhold not thy hand.” / Ecclesiastes 11:6

In the evening of the day opportunities are plentiful: men return from their
labour, and the zealous soul-winner finds time to tell abroad the love of
Jesus. Have I no evening work for Jesus? If I have not, let me no longer
withhold my hand from a service which requires abundant labour. Sinners are
perishing for lack of knowledge; he who loiters may find his skirts crimson
with the blood of souls. Jesus gave both his hands to the nails, how can I
keep back one of mine from his blessed work? Night and day he toiled and
prayed for me, how can I give a single hour to the pampering of my flesh with
luxurious ease? Up, idle heart; stretch out thy hand to work, or uplift it to
pray; heaven and hell are in earnest, let me be so, and this evening sow good
seed for the Lord my God.

The evening of life has also its calls. Life is so short that a morning of
manhood’s vigour, and an evening of decay, make the whole of it. To some it
seems long, but a four-pence is a great sum of money to a poor man. Life is so
brief that no man can afford to lose a day. It has been well said that if a
great king should bring us a great heap of gold, and bid us take as much as we
could count in a day, we should make a long day of it; we should begin early
in the morning, and in the evening we should not withhold our hand; but to win
souls is far nobler work, how is it that we so soon withdraw from it? Some are
spared to a long evening of green old age; if such be my case, let me use such
talents as I still retain, and to the last hour serve my blessed and faithful
Lord. By his grace I will die in harness, and lay down my charge only when I
lay down my body. Age may instruct the young, cheer the faint, and encourage
the desponding; if eventide has less of vigorous heat, it should have more of
calm wisdom, therefore in the evening I will not withhold my hand.

At evening withhold not your hand.   Ecclesiastes 11:6

In the evening of the day opportunities are plentiful: Men return from their work, and the zealous soul-winner finds time to share widely the love of Jesus. Do I have no evening work for Jesus? If I have not, let me no longer withhold my hand from a service that requires wholehearted endeavor. Sinners are perishing for lack of knowledge; he who loiters may find his shoes red with the blood of souls. Jesus gave both His hands to the nails. How can I keep back one of mine from His blessed work? Night and day He toiled and prayed for me. How can I give a single hour to the pampering of my body with luxurious ease? Up, lazy heart; stretch out your hand to work, or lift it up to pray. Heaven and hell are serious; so must I be, and this evening I should sow good seed for the Lord my God.

The evening of life also has its calls. Life is so short that a morning of manhood’s strength and an evening of decay make up the whole of it. To some it seems long, but a dollar is a great sum of money to a poor man. Life is so brief that no man can afford to lose a day. It has been well said that if a great king were to bring us a great heap of gold and bid us take as much as we could count in a day, we would make a long day of it; we would begin early in the morning, and in the evening we would not withhold our hand.

Winning souls is far nobler work; so how is it that we quit so soon? Some are spared to a long evening of green old age; if such is my case, let me use any talents I still retain and serve my blessed and faithful Lord to the final hour. By His grace I will die with my boots on and lay down my commission only when I lay down my body. Age may instruct the young, cheer the faint, and encourage the despondent. If evening has less stifling heat, it should have more calm wisdom; therefore in the evening I will not withhold my hand.

Family Reading Plan   Ezekiel 23  Psalm 71

Hebrews 10:24

Far too often, people turn a good situation into slavery by ignoring wise boundaries of personal freedom. A godly accountability partner can help you enjoy privilege without abusing it. The benefits are plentiful:

Clearer direction. Honesty about faults and failures will open you to receive right counsel and encouragement. This process will increase your potential to do and become all that God has in mind for you.

Increased integrity. If you have to give an account to somebody, you’ll be honest and transparent. Even when the truth hurts, the result is heightened integrity.

Better stewardship. Accounting for the way you use money, time, or talent makes you careful not to waste those resources.

Protection against excess. As children of God, we are free in Christ, but an accountability partner keeps us balanced and guards us from taking liberties.

Healthy self-examination. Another person can often point out what we cannot see in ourselves. When we allow someone to be an accurate mirror of our faults, we’re in a better position to make improvements.

Safeguard against unwise relationships. If you have to give an account of where you go and which people you spend time with, you’ll be more likely to avoid problematic places and relationships.

Unbridled freedom may seem like a great blessing, but it can be a recipe for disaster. Do you give account to anybody for the way you handle money, time, and relationships? If not, consider inviting a trustworthy Christian to fill that role. Taking this step reveals a heart that longs to please God.

 In 1952 philosopher Mortimer Adler co-edited a fifty-five volume series for Encyclopedia Britannica titled The Great Books of the Western World. Overseeing a staff of ninety, the editors created a diverse index of topics containing selections from many of the finest thinkers in the history of Western Civilization. Upon completion, Adler was asked why the work included more pages under the subject of God than any other topic. He replied matter-of-factly that it was because more consequences for life and action follow from the affirmation or denial of God than from any other basic question.

What we do with the subject of God is a far-reaching choice, defining life, informing death, shaping everything. The one who lives as though there is no God lives quite differently than the one who lives confidently that there is a God. It is a subject of consequence because it reaches everything and everyone; whether mindfully or indifferently, a decision is always made.  

 Through avenues of every emotion known to humankind, the Psalms make the astounding claim that God not only exists, but that God is present and can be found. In victory and defeat, illness and poverty, health and prosperity, the psalmist maintains that it is God who gives all of life meaning, that God alone answers the deepest and darkest questions of life whether in the depths or from the highest vantage. 

 Calling to the multitudes, crossing lines of status and allegiance, the psalmist pleads for care regarding a subject that concerns all. Like Adler, the psalmist makes it clear that what is being communicating is of consequence. “Hear this, all you peoples; listen, all who live in this world, both low and high, rich and poor together… I will incline my ear to a proverb; I will solve my riddle to the music of the harp.”(1) This riddle the psalmist wants to bring to the attention of all is a riddle forever before humankind. It is a riddle to which all must diligently attend but many wholeheartedly ignore.  Fittingly, the Hebrew word for “riddle” has also been translated “dark saying” or “difficult question.” 

 The psalmist continues, “When we look at the wise, they die; fool and dolt perish together and leave their wealth to others. Their graves are their homes for ever, their dwelling-places to all generations, though they named lands their own. Mortals cannot abide in their pomp; they are like the animals that perish.”

 Most of us go about life as if we know what we are doing, but what is the purpose of it all? Some accumulate wealth, others remain in poverty, some live well and others live wickedly, but all are destined for the grave. The one who claims there is no God in life, so claims emptiness in death. But then is life also empty? Again we return to the riddle of the psalmist: What, then, is the point of it all? 

 Solving the riddles of life and death, like religion and politics at a social gathering, means, for many, changing the subject. As Woody Allen once quipped, “It’s not that I am afraid of death; I just don’t want to be there when it happens.” But that our lives are fleeting awakens a sense of urgency, a sense of inquiry. That life is fleeting, though inarguably full of meaning, is either a peculiar contradiction or a hint that there is more to come.

 Even so, for the Christian death remains something of a mystery. For we know that death is the last great door through which we must walk, the mark of a broken world. Yet we know also that through death God has declared the end of that broken hold on our lives, that the one who loses his life will save it, and that by Christ’s death the Spirit works Christ’s life in us. As C.S. Lewis once said of the Christian, “Of all men, we hope most of death; yet nothing will reconcile us to…its ‘unnaturalness.’ We know that we were not made for it; we know how it crept into our destiny as an intruder; and we know Who has defeated it.” In the riddle of life and death the psalmist expounds this certainty of God’s action. “But God will ransom my soul from the power of the grave, for he will receive me.”

 Jill Carattini is managing editor of A Slice of Infinity at Ravi Zacharias International Ministries in Atlanta, Georgia. 
(1) See Psalm 49.

Morning “The liberty wherewith Christ hath made us free.” / Galatians 5:1

This “liberty” makes us free to heaven’s charter–the Bible. Here is a choice
passage, believer, “When thou passest through the rivers, I will be with
thee.” You are free to that. Here is another: “The mountains shall depart, and
the hills be removed, but my kindness shall not depart from thee”; you are
free to that. You are a welcome guest at the table of the promises. Scripture
is a never-failing treasury filled with boundless stores of grace. It is the
bank of heaven; you may draw from it as much as you please, without let or
hindrance. Come in faith and you are welcome to all covenant blessings. There
is not a promise in the Word which shall be withheld. In the depths of
tribulations let this freedom comfort you; amidst waves of distress let it
cheer you; when sorrows surround thee let it be thy solace. This is thy
Father’s love-token; thou art free to it at all times. Thou art also free to
the throne of grace. It is the believer’s privilege to have access at all
times to his heavenly Father. Whatever our desires, our difficulties, our
wants, we are at liberty to spread all before him. It matters not how much we
may have sinned, we may ask and expect pardon. It signifies nothing how poor
we are, we may plead his promise that he will provide all things needful. We
have permission to approach his throne at all times–in midnight’s darkest
hour, or in noontide’s most burning heat. Exercise thy right, O believer, and
live up to thy privilege. Thou art free to all that is treasured up in
Christ–wisdom, righteousness, sanctification, and redemption. It matters not
what thy need is, for there is fulness of supply in Christ, and it is there
for thee. O what a “freedom” is thine! freedom from condemnation, freedom to
the promises, freedom to the throne of grace, and at last freedom to enter
heaven!

Evening “For this child I prayed.” / 1 Samuel 1:27

Devout souls delight to look upon those mercies which they have obtained in
answer to supplication, for they can see God’s especial love in them. When we
can name our blessings Samuel, that is, “asked of God,” they will be as dear
to us as her child was to Hannah. Peninnah had many children, but they came as
common blessings unsought in prayer: Hannah’s one heaven-given child was
dearer far, because he was the fruit of earnest pleadings. How sweet was that
water to Samson which he found at “the well of him that prayed!” Quassia cups
turn all waters bitter, but the cup of prayer puts a sweetness into the
draughts it brings. Did we pray for the conversion of our children? How doubly
sweet, when they are saved, to see in them our own petitions fulfilled! Better
to rejoice over them as the fruit of our pleadings than as the fruit of our
bodies. Have we sought of the Lord some choice spiritual gift? When it comes
to us it will be wrapped up in the gold cloth of God’s faithfulness and truth,
and so be doubly precious. Have we petitioned for success in the Lord’s work?
How joyful is the prosperity which comes flying upon the wings of prayer! It
is always best to get blessings into our house in the legitimate way, by the
door of prayer; then they are blessings indeed, and not temptations. Even when
prayer speeds not, the blessings grow all the richer for the delay; the child
Jesus was all the more lovely in the eyes of Mary when she found him after
having sought him sorrowing. That which we win by prayer we should dedicate to
God, as Hannah dedicated Samuel. The gift came from heaven, let it go to
heaven. Prayer brought it, gratitude sang over it, let devotion consecrate it.
Here will be a special occasion for saying, “Of thine own have I given unto
thee.” Reader, is prayer your element or your weariness? Which?

For this child I prayed.    1 Samuel 1:27

Devout souls delight to reflect upon those mercies that they have obtained in answer to prayer, for they can see God’s special love in them. When we can name our blessings Samuel—that is, “asked of God”—they will be as dear to us as this child was to Hannah. Peninnah had many children, but they came as common blessings unsought in prayer. Hannah’s one heaven-given child was far more precious, because he was the fruit of sincere pleadings. How sweet was the water that Samson found at “the spring of him who called.”1

Did we pray for the conversion of our children? How doubly sweet, when they are saved, to see in them our own petitions answered! Better to rejoice over them as the fruit of our pleadings than as the fruit of our bodies. Have we asked the Lord for some choice spiritual gift? When it comes to us, it will be wrapped up in the golden cloth of God’s faithfulness and truth and will be doubly precious. Have we sought success in the Lord’s work? How joyful is the prosperity that comes flying on the wings of prayer!

It is always best to get blessings into our house in the legitimate way, by the door of prayer; then they are blessings indeed, and not temptations. Even when prayer is not speedy, the blessings grow all the richer on account of the delay; the child Jesus was all the more lovely in the eyes of Mary when she found Him after having searched for Him. What we gain by prayer we should dedicate to God, as Hannah dedicated Samuel. The gift came from heaven; let it go to heaven. Prayer brought it, gratitude sang over it—let devotion consecrate it. Here will be a special occasion for saying, “Of Your own I have given to You.” Reader, is prayer your heartbeat or your weariness? Which?

1Judges 15:19, margin

Family Reading Plan    Ezekiel 22   Psalm 69

 James 5:13-16

There are plenty of biblical directives about making ourselves accountable to one another. But for many, the idea of revealing personal information seems restrictive or even an invasion of privacy. Such confession seems a hindrance to the pursuit of pleasure, prosperity, and prestige. Most people prefer to keep to themselves and not involve others in their business.

The Bible, however, makes it clear that Christians are to support each other in this regard: “Therefore, confess your sins to one another, and pray for one another so that you may be healed” (James 5:16).

Accountability in the body of Christ is a biblical principle. Church members take direction from their pastor (Heb. 13:17). Paul tells us to be subject one to another (Eph. 5:21). Yet he was answerable to the church (Acts 14:27), just as Timothy was subordinate to him (1 Tim. 4:13-16). The apostles were certainly under the authority of Jesus (Luke 10), even as Jesus was subject to the Father (John 8:28-29). Of course, the Bible tells us that the whole church is obedient to the Lord Jesus Christ (Eph. 5:24). Regardless of one’s position, everybody is accountable to somebody. And this holds true for the entire family of faith–from the congregation to the ministers to Jesus Himself, who served God the Father.

People avoid accountability for various reasons, including pride, ignorance, fear, and self-reliance. This is a dangerous approach to life. Our Enemy knows our weaknesses and how to exploit them. But we can prevail with the support of friends. There is strength in the body of Christ.

In the early fourteenth century, Geoffrey Chaucer penned The Canterbury Tales, a sometimes bawdy, often hilarious, and always sharply critical satire on the religious folk of his day. The “tales” of the pilgrims make up the content of the story. Despite their common path of pilgrimage to Canterbury, Chaucer’s Christian characters are largely examples of the corruption and dissolute living that had overtaken virtue in the church of his time. However, in the case of “The Parson’s Tale,” Chaucer gives us an extended prose narrative intended to instruct the pilgrims in Christian morality. This tale, by contrast, represented the kind of Christianity Chaucer espoused, and so he gives the Parson the last word.(1)

 The Parson’s Tale presents a theological treatise on repentance and how to overcome the “seven deadly sins” with the virtues of the spiritual life. In particular, the parson offers magnanimity as the virtue to combat the vice of acedia. Acedia was considered one of the most serious of sins. It manifested itself in spiritual despair, and more significantly embodied the temptation to give up caring about anything truly important. The early Christian monastics believed that acedia led to spiritual impotence and smallness of heart. Spiritual impotence would allow vice to flourish and virtue to languish, not because vice was purposely chosen or intentionally entered into, but because spiritual lassitude desiccated one’s concern to be virtuous. 

 Is it any different in our own day? Despair distracts many spiritual pilgrims from finding their way, and maybe even some Christian pilgrims from following the way of Jesus. Author Kathleen Norris warns that acedia “is known to foster excessive self-justification, as well as a casual yet implacable judgmentalism toward others,” and readily lends itself to this process of spiritual apathy.(2) 

 Magnanimity, by contrast, is found in a person who is generous of spirit, caring, and gracious in forgiveness. Chaucer, through the voice of the Parson, warns that “a great heart is needed against acedia, lest it swallow up the soul.” A great heart is a magnanimous heart full of generosity and graciousness, eager to forgive. Acedia, on the other hand, makes hearts small, consumed not with care for the things God cares for, but devoured by things that do not matter at all. 

 Acedia further makes it easy for me to pluck the speck out of my sister’s eye while I ignore the log in my own. This propensity to see others as the primary problem, while elevating one’s own self is a clear sign that acedia has taken root in one’s life. On the contrary, magnanimity, as Norris notes, “requires creativity to recognize our faults, and to discern virtues in those we would rather disdain. Forgiveness demands close attention, flexibility, and stringent self-assessment, faculties that are hard to come by as we careen blindly into the twenty-first century, and are increasingly asked to choose information over knowledge, theory over experience, and certainty over ambiguity.”(3) 

 Like the Parson’s Tale, Jesus shared many tales; parables regarding the virtuous life. Jesus was inviting those who heard his story to respond by living a kingdom-life here and now. When invited to the house of a Pharisee one evening, a woman who was known to be a sinner entered the house and wept at Jesus’s feet, anointing them with her tears and perfume, and wiping his feet with her hair. But in Jesus’s day, a man would not allow a woman to touch him, let alone a woman who was a known sinner. The Pharisee who invited Jesus knew this, and he said to himself, “If this man were a prophet he would know who and what sort of person this woman is who is touching him” (Luke 7:39). Jesus then tells the tale of two debtors; one owed five hundred denarii and the other fifty. Which of them, Jesus asks, when forgiven their debt, would love the moneylender more? The Pharisee replies that the one who owed more would love more. Jesus then delivers the last line of the tale: “For this reason I say to you, her sins, which are many, have been forgiven, for she loved much; but he who is forgiven little, loves little” (Luke 7:47). 

 Jesus understood how magnanimity pushed beyond a small, acedic heart. There will always be idle pilgrims on the way to vacant Canterburys missing the true heart of the pilgrimage. But those who respond to the tale as told by Jesus find their hearts opened and enlarged, discovering on the way that the pilgrimage of magnanimity has pointed toward home in the Kingdom.

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

 (1) Ed. Larry Benson, “Explanatory Notes,” in Geoffrey Chaucer’s The Riverside Chaucer, Third Edition, (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1988), 956.
(2) Kathleen Norris, Acedia and Me (New York: Penguin, 2008), 116.
(3) Ibid.

Morning   “If we live in the Spirit, let us also walk in the Spirit.” / Galatians 5:25

The two most important things in our holy religion are the life of faith and
the walk of faith. He who shall rightly understand these is not far from being
a master in experimental theology, for they are vital points to a Christian.
You will never find true faith unattended by true godliness; on the other
hand, you will never discover a truly holy life which has not for its root a
living faith upon the righteousness of Christ. Woe unto those who seek after
the one without the other! There are some who cultivate faith and forget
holiness; these may be very high in orthodoxy, but they shall be very deep in
condemnation, for they hold the truth in unrighteousness; and there are others
who have strained after holiness of life, but have denied the faith, like the
Pharisees of old, of whom the Master said, they were “whitewashed sepulchres.”
We must have faith, for this is the foundation; we must have holiness of life,
for this is the superstructure. Of what service is the mere foundation of a
building to a man in the day of tempest? Can he hide himself therein? He wants
a house to cover him, as well as a foundation for that house. Even so we need
the superstructure of spiritual life if we would have comfort in the day of
doubt. But seek not a holy life without faith, for that would be to erect a
house which can afford no permanent shelter, because it has no foundation on a
rock. Let faith and life be put together, and, like the two abutments of an
arch, they will make our piety enduring. Like light and heat streaming from
the same sun, they are alike full of blessing. Like the two pillars of the
temple, they are for glory and for beauty. They are two streams from the
fountain of grace; two lamps lit with holy fire; two olive trees watered by
heavenly care. O Lord, give us this day life within, and it will reveal itself
without to thy glory.

Evening “And they follow me.” / John 10:27

We should follow our Lord as unhesitatingly as sheep follow their shepherd,
for he has a right to lead us wherever he pleases. We are not our own, we are
bought with a price–let us recognize the rights of the redeeming blood. The
soldier follows his captain, the servant obeys his master, much more must we
follow our Redeemer, to whom we are a purchased possession. We are not true to
our profession of being Christians, if we question the bidding of our Leader
and Commander. Submission is our duty, cavilling is our folly. Often might our
Lord say to us as to Peter, “What is that to thee? Follow thou me.” Wherever
Jesus may lead us, he goes before us. If we know not where we go, we know with
whom we go. With such a companion, who will dread the perils of the road? The
journey may be long, but his everlasting arms will carry us to the end. The
presence of Jesus is the assurance of eternal salvation, because he lives, we
shall live also. We should follow Christ in simplicity and faith, because the
paths in which he leads us all end in glory and immortality. It is true they
may not be smooth paths–they may be covered with sharp flinty trials, but
they lead to the “city which hath foundations, whose builder and maker is
God.” “All the paths of the Lord are mercy and truth unto such as keep his
covenant.” Let us put full trust in our Leader, since we know that, come
prosperity or adversity, sickness or health, popularity or contempt, his
purpose shall be worked out, and that purpose shall be pure, unmingled good to
every heir of mercy. We shall find it sweet to go up the bleak side of the
hill with Christ; and when rain and snow blow into our faces, his dear love
will make us far more blest than those who sit at home and warm their hands at
the world’s fire. To the top of Amana, to the dens of lions, or to the hills
of leopards, we will follow our Beloved. Precious Jesus, draw us, and we will
run after thee.

And they follow me.   John 10:27

 We should follow our Lord as unhesitatingly as sheep follow their shepherd, for He has a right to lead us wherever He pleases. We are not our own, we are bought with a price—let us recognize the rights of the redeeming blood. The soldier follows his captain, the servant obeys his master, and so we must follow our Redeemer, to whom we are a purchased possession. We are not true to our profession of being Christians if we question the summons of our Leader and Commander.

Submission is our duty; quibbling is our folly. Our Lord may say to us what he said to Peter, “What is that to you? You follow Me!”1 Wherever Jesus may lead us, He goes before us. If we do not know where we go, we know with whom we go. With such a companion, who will dread the dangers of the journey? The road may be long, but His everlasting arms will carry us to the end. The presence of Jesus is the assurance of eternal salvation; because He lives, we will live also. We should follow Christ in simplicity and faith, because the paths in which He leads us all end in glory and immortality. It is true that they may not be smooth paths—they may be covered with sharp, flinty trials; but they lead to “the city that has foundations, whose designer and maker is God.”2 All the paths of the Lord are mercy and truth to those who keep His covenant.

Let us put our complete trust in our Leader, since we know that in prosperity or adversity, sickness or health, popularity or contempt, His purpose will be worked out, and that purpose will be pure, unmingled good to every heir of mercy. We will find it sweet to go up the bleak side of the hill with Christ; and when rain and snow blow into our faces, His dear love will make us far more blessed than those who sit at home and warm their hands at the world’s fire. When Jesus draws us, we will run after Him. No matter where He leads us, we follow the Shepherd.

1John 21:22 2Hebrews 11:10

Family Reading Plan  Ezekiel 21  Psalm 68

Revelation 4:9-11

Throughout Scripture, we find references to “crowns.” Let’s take a look at these eternal rewards for a victorious Christian life and a strong relationship with Jesus Christ.

The Crown of Victory. To finish life well, believers need Olympic endurance. Athletes in those ancient games received a perishable circlet of laurel leaves. But when we are effective in our God-given ministry and triumph over sin, we’ll be given an imperishable crown (1 Cor. 9:25-27).

The Crown of Exultation. The believers that we had a hand in bringing to Christ will be “our glory and joy” before the Lord (1 Thess. 2:18-20). Just imagine how you will rejoice in heaven upon seeing and talking with the people who recognize your contribution to their spiritual development.

The Crown of Righteousness. The Christian life is not easy, but there is great reward for living righteously when facing temptation or hardship. Believers who pursue godliness are always thinking about the life to come and striving to meet God with a pure conscience (2 Tim. 4:5-8).

The Crown of Life. Heartache and pain are unavoidable in this life, but we can take heart because much spiritual growth happens in adversity. Hang in there to receive the crown of life that the Lord promised to those who love Him (James 1:12).

In heaven, what will we do with the crowns we have earned? We will cast them before Jesus’ feet (Rev. 4:10), laying them down as a tribute to the One who saved us, gifted us, equipped us, and lived in us. Everything good and right came to us through the Lord, so He deserves our crowns.

Over a period of several weeks of precious elementary school recesses, my circle of fellow fourth-grade friends set aside dodge-ball matches and swing-sets in order to go to court. There had been a rather serious disagreement between two of the girls in our larger group of friends and sides were being drawn as quickly as notes could be passed between desks. Before things got any worse, the humanitarian among us reasoned that we had to intervene. It was decided that we would create a makeshift courtroom to get to the bottom of the mess. One of my friends was appointed judge; others were chosen to be witnesses or note-takers, prosecutor, defendant, or bailiff. I don’t think we thought any of it was half as silly as it sounds now. In our minds we were doing what adults did to get at the truth. In the end, however, it became one of those defining moments where one wakes from the innocence of childhood to find the world not as simple as first thought and the human heart capable of horrific things. The experience is strangely reminiscent of William Golding’s stranded children in The Lord of the Flies.

In our courtroom I was called to be a witness. I was to tell the judge what I saw and what I knew to be true. I did so, and it felt like we were getting somewhere. But then another witness was called who insisted that she saw something completely different, and that I, in fact, was lying. I was heartbroken and confused. Sides were drawn, cases sharpened. As the days went by we became increasingly frustrated and vindictive. What we thought would be a simple solution that would lead us to truth and resolution became a hurtful, tangled mess of motive and slander and manipulation—so much so, that a teacher intervened and our courtroom was forever adjourned. Among other things, I decided I could not go into law.

I was reminded of this childish scene recently while reading the eyewitness Mark’s account of the trial of Christ before the council of religious leaders. Seized from the Garden of Gethsemane, Jesus was taken to the courtyard. Peter followed from a distance and watched among the guards as the trial unraveled. Mark imparts, “The chief priests and the whole Sanhedrin were looking for evidence against Jesus so that they could put him to death, but they did not find any. Many testified falsely against him, but their statements did not agree. Then some stood up and gave this false testimony against him: We heard him say, ‘I will destroy this man-made temple and in three days will build another, not made by man.’ Yet even then their testimony did not agree.”(1)

What kind of a courtroom would this make? The expert witnesses from the same side are contradicting each other. The only thing they seem to agree on is that Jesus should be on trial. And yet, like a prosecuting attorney with an airtight case, the high priest exclaims: “Answer these charges!” In the middle of the chaos of conflicting words and motives, the high priest stood up and faced Jesus: “Have you no answer to make? What is it that these men testify against you?” Jesus was kind for not replying: “If you don’t even know, why should I have to make sense of all of that?” But Jesus remained silent and made no answer.

In the midst of courtrooms such as these, it seems appropriate to pause in that silence. For though accusing crowds put him to death more than two thousand years ago, he has been on trial ever since. Like the court scene I was a part of as a child, we continue to place him before our makeshift gavels and make a mockery of truth and testimony. I know many moments when armed with fiery questions I have forced God to take the stand. My words likely made as little sense as Jesus’s accusers that day.

But the culminating events of Jesus’s life on earth depict a very surprising turn of judge and jury. From the waving of palm branches to waving fists demanding crucifixion, our trials of God are fickle. But what if we discover, as did many within these crowds, that it is we who live our lives before the courts? Like Peter, we might follow Jesus at a distance, looking in on a great trial, sometimes participating, sometimes denying him, sometimes seeing our role and with a shock of recognition, falling on our knees, and finding ourselves in a court reversed: the Judge before us, and our advocate—the one we’ve accused—entering our plea. Might it be in such a position that we make our verdict.

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

(1) Mark 14:55-59.

Morning   “Bring him unto me.” / Mark 9:19

Despairingly the poor disappointed father turned away from the disciples to

their Master. His son was in the worst possible condition, and all means had

failed, but the miserable child was soon delivered from the evil one when the

parent in faith obeyed the Lord Jesus’ word, “Bring him unto me.” Children are

a precious gift from God, but much anxiety comes with them. They may be a

great joy or a great bitterness to their parents; they may be filled with the

Spirit of God, or possessed with the spirit of evil. In all cases, the Word of

God gives us one receipt for the curing of all their ills, “Bring him unto

me.” O for more agonizing prayer on their behalf while they are yet babes! Sin

is there, let our prayers begin to attack it. Our cries for our offspring

should precede those cries which betoken their actual advent into a world of

sin. In the days of their youth we shall see sad tokens of that dumb and deaf

spirit which will neither pray aright, nor hear the voice of God in the soul,

but Jesus still commands, “Bring them unto me.” When they are grown up they

may wallow in sin and foam with enmity against God; then when our hearts are

breaking we should remember the great Physician’s words, “Bring them unto me.”

Never must we cease to pray until they cease to breathe. No case is hopeless

while Jesus lives.

The Lord sometimes suffers his people to be driven into a corner that they may

experimentally know how necessary he is to them. Ungodly children, when they

show us our own powerlessness against the depravity of their hearts, drive us

to flee to the strong for strength, and this is a great blessing to us.

Whatever our morning’s need may be, let it like a strong current bear us to

the ocean of divine love. Jesus can soon remove our sorrow, he delights to

comfort us. Let us hasten to him while he waits to meet us.

Evening   “Encourage him.” / Deuteronomy 1:38

God employs his people to encourage one another. He did not say to an angel,

“Gabriel, my servant Joshua is about to lead my people into Canaan–go,

encourage him.” God never works needless miracles; if his purposes can be

accomplished by ordinary means, he will not use miraculous agency. Gabriel

would not have been half so well fitted for the work as Moses. A brother’s

sympathy is more precious than an angel’s embassy. The angel, swift of wing,

had better known the Master’s bidding than the people’s temper. An angel had

never experienced the hardness of the road, nor seen the fiery serpents, nor

had he led the stiff-necked multitude in the wilderness as Moses had done. We

should be glad that God usually works for man by man. It forms a bond of

brotherhood, and being mutually dependent on one another, we are fused more

completely into one family. Brethren, take the text as God’s message to you.

Labour to help others, and especially strive to encourage them. Talk cheerily

to the young and anxious enquirer, lovingly try to remove stumblingblocks out

of his way. When you find a spark of grace in the heart, kneel down and blow

it into a flame. Leave the young believer to discover the roughness of the

road by degrees, but tell him of the strength which dwells in God, of the

sureness of the promise, and of the charms of communion with Christ. Aim to

comfort the sorrowful, and to animate the desponding. Speak a word in season

to him that is weary, and encourage those who are fearful to go on their way

with gladness. God encourages you by his promises; Christ encourages you as he

points to the heaven he has won for you, and the spirit encourages you as he

works in you to will and to do of his own will and pleasure. Imitate divine

wisdom, and encourage others, according to the word of this evening.

Encourage him.   Deuteronomy 1:38

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

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

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

Family Reading Plan  Ezekiel 20  Psalm 67

 1 Corinthians 3:10-15

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

1Nehemiah 9:17

Family Reading Plan Ezekiel 17  Psalm 61

Acts 10:42-43

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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