The Son of Man has authority on earth to forgive sins.   Matthew 9:6

 Consider here the Great Physician’s mighty power: the power to forgive sin! While He lived here below, before the ransom had been paid, before the blood had been literally sprinkled on the mercy-seat, He had power to forgive sin. Has He no power to do it now that He has died? What power must dwell in Him who to the utmost penny has faithfully discharged the debts of His people! He has unlimited power now that He has finished transgression and made an end of sin. If you doubt it, see Him rising from the dead! Behold Him in ascending splendor, raised to the right hand of God! Hear Him pleading before the eternal Father, pointing to His wounds, declaring the merit of His sacred passion!

What power to forgive is here! He ascended on high, and He gave gifts to men. He is exalted on high to give repentance and forgiveness of sins. The most crimson sins are removed by the crimson of His blood. At this moment, dear reader, whatever your sinfulness, Christ has power to pardon, power to pardon you, and millions just like you. A word will speak it. He has nothing more to do to win your pardon; all the atoning work is done.

He can, in answer to your tears, forgive your sins today and make you know it. He can breathe into your soul at this very moment a peace with God that passes all understanding, which shall spring from perfect remission of your many iniquities. Do you believe that? I trust you believe it. May you even now experience the power of Jesus to forgive sin! Waste no time in applying to the Physician of souls; hasten to Him with words like these:

Jesus! Master! hear my cry;

Save me, heal me with a word;

Fainting at Thy feet I lie,

Thou my whisper’d plea has heard.

Family Reading Plan Jeremiah 38  Psalm 11

James 1:2-4

Are you wasting your troubles? Anytime God allows trials to enter your life, He has a purpose for them. He wants you to squeeze out every ounce of spiritual growth instead of letting difficulties squeeze you into despair and discouragement. If you’ll just respond in the right manner, the trial that looks as if it could destroy you will become an instrument of blessing.

The most natural response to adversity is to groan and plead with the Lord to remove it. If that doesn’t work, we might get angry or try to find our own way out of the difficulty or pain. Sometimes we resort to blaming others for the trouble. And in truth, someone else might have caused the problem, but ultimately God allowed it. No matter where affliction originates, who is involved, or how evil their intentions, by the time it reaches you, it’s been dipped in the Father’s love and shaped to accomplish His good purpose. The question is, will you cooperate with Him, or will you resist?

Perhaps the key word is found in verse 4 of today’s reading. God wants to use your trial to develop spiritual maturity, but unless you let it do its work, that opportunity will be lost. If we could foresee all the benefits the Lord designed our trials to accomplish, maybe we’d be more cooperative.

Although we can’t see all the specifics of God’s plan, we know that His goal is to use our adversity to supply something we lack so we can be mature and complete. Even though the experience is painful, rest in the Father’s comforting arms, and let Him do His perfect work in you.

A charge that some people make is that religion in general and Christianity in particular are irrational. It’s ridiculous to believe in God, they say; there’s no evidence that God even exists! Richard Dawkins, in his best selling book The God Delusion, makes this very claim, saying that faith in God is just like belief in Santa Claus!

 But of course, there’s a major problem with comparing faith in God to belief in Santa Claus. I don’t know anybody who came to believe in Santa Claus in adulthood. Yet I know many Christians—often former atheists—who discovered God as adults. This alone should tell you that God and Santa are utterly different. (If they weren’t, one wonders why Richard Dawkins didn’t write “The Santa Delusion.”) Furthermore, thousands upon thousands of great thinkers— now, and throughout history, have believed in God. That alone suggests that belief in God is hardly “irrational.”

 But what about the other claim: “You can’t prove God exists!” What might a believing person say to skeptics? Well, I might start by gently pointing out that there are many good arguments that, whilst not proving God exists, certainly suggest God’s existence is extremely likely. There are philosophical arguments, such as the cosmological argument: (i) everything that begins to exist had a cause; (ii) the universe began to exist; (iii) therefore the universe had a cause. Most philosophers would say that’s a powerful argument.

 There are also arguments from design. The universe and the laws of nature look, as one physicist once put it, suspiciously like a put up job. Or we might talk about the purpose that seems to be inherent in life. Most of us intuitively know that life has meaning and purpose. Indeed, a question one might fire back at our atheist friends concerns this very point: how does the atheist avoid nihilism, the view that life is meaningless, pointless, and nothing really matters. The question for the nihilist becomes “Why not suicide”?

 The Christian would also want to point out that the deepest things that matter to us as humans all lie beyond the physical and the material: morality and meaning, love and friendship, beauty and truth. All of these don’t fit happily with atheism: “Darwinian mistakes,” Richard Dawkins once called them. That to me is tragic.

 But perhaps the most powerful evidence for God is the one the Bible uses most consistently. The Bible doesn’t offer an argument for God, rather it points to God’s involvement in the world. Most significantly, that would be how, in the person of Jesus Christ, the God who created the world took on flesh and stepped into our world to rescue and save it. This is not a distant, remote, theoretical God, but a God who is very much alive. That’s a quite different proposition—and if that God exists, that changes everything. C. S. Lewis put it this way: “I believe in Christianity in the same way as I believe that the sun has risen. Not because I see it, but that by it, I see everything else.”

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

 Morning “The city hath no need of the sun, neither of the moon, to shine in it.” / Revelation 21:23

 Yonder in the better world, the inhabitants are independent of all creature

comforts. They have no need of raiment; their white robes never wear out,

neither shall they ever be defiled. They need no medicine to heal diseases,

“for the inhabitant shall not say, I am sick.” They need no sleep to recruit

their frames–they rest not day nor night, but unweariedly praise him in his

temple. They need no social relationship to minister comfort, and whatever

happiness they may derive from association with their fellows is not essential

to their bliss, for their Lord’s society is enough for their largest desires.

They need no teachers there; they doubtless commune with one another

concerning the things of God, but they do not require this by way of

instruction; they shall all be taught of the Lord. Ours are the alms at the

king’s gate, but they feast at the table itself. Here we lean upon the

friendly arm, but there they lean upon their Beloved and upon him alone. Here

we must have the help of our companions, but there they find all they want in

Christ Jesus. Here we look to the meat which perisheth, and to the raiment

which decays before the moth, but there they find everything in God. We use

the bucket to fetch us water from the well, but there they drink from the

fountain head, and put their lips down to the living water. Here the angels

bring us blessings, but we shall want no messengers from heaven then. They

shall need no Gabriels there to bring their love-notes from God, for there

they shall see him face to face. Oh! what a blessed time shall that be when we

shall have mounted above every second cause and shall rest upon the bare arm

of God! What a glorious hour when God, and not his creatures; the Lord, and

not his works, shall be our daily joy! Our souls shall then have attained the

perfection of bliss.

Evening “He appeared first to Mary Magdalene, out of whom he had cast seven devils.” /

Mark 16:9

 Mary of Magdala was the victim of a fearful evil. She was possessed by not one

devil only, but seven. These dreadful inmates caused much pain and pollution

to the poor frame in which they had found a lodging. Hers was a hopeless,

horrible case. She could not help herself, neither could any human succour

avail. But Jesus passed that way, and unsought, and probably even resisted by

the poor demoniac, he uttered the word of power, and Mary of Magdala became a

trophy of the healing power of Jesus. All the seven demons left her, left her

never to return, forcibly ejected by the Lord of all. What a blessed

deliverance! What a happy change! From delirium to delight, from despair to

peace, from hell to heaven! Straightway she became a constant follower of

Jesus, catching his every word, following his devious steps, sharing his

toilsome life; and withal she became his generous helper, first among that

band of healed and grateful women who ministered unto him of their substance.

When Jesus was lifted up in crucifixion, Mary remained the sharer of his

shame: we find her first beholding from afar, and then drawing near to the

foot of the cross. She could not die on the cross with Jesus, but she stood as

near it as she could, and when his blessed body was taken down, she watched to

see how and where it was laid. She was the faithful and watchful believer,

last at the sepulchre where Jesus slept, first at the grave whence he arose.

Her holy fidelity made her a favoured beholder of her beloved Rabboni, who

deigned to call her by her name, and to make her his messenger of good news to

the trembling disciples and Peter. Thus grace found her a maniac and made her

a minister, cast out devils and gave her to behold angels, delivered her from

Satan, and united her forever to the Lord Jesus. May I also be such a miracle

of grace!

He appeared first to Mary Magdalene, from whom he had cast out seven demons.   Mark 16:9

Mary of Magdala was the victim of a fearful evil. She was possessed not just by one demon, but by seven. These dreadful inmates caused much pain and pollution to the poor frame in which they had found a lodging. Hers was a hopeless, horrible case. She could not help herself, and no human power could set her free. But Jesus passed that way, and without being asked and probably while being resisted by the poor demoniac, He uttered the word of power, and Mary of Magdala became a trophy of the healing power of Jesus. All seven demons left her, left her never to return, forcibly ejected by the Lord of all.

What a blessed deliverance! What a happy change! From delirium to delight, from despair to peace, from hell to heaven! Immediately she became a constant follower of Jesus, listening to His every word, following His winding steps, sharing His busy life; and in all this she became His generous helper, first among that band of healed and grateful women who ministered to Him out of their means. When Jesus was lifted up in crucifixion, Mary remained the sharer of His shame: We find her first watching from a distance and then drawing near to the foot of the cross. She could not die on the cross with Jesus, but she stood as near to it as she could, and when His blessed body was taken down, she watched to see how and where it was laid.

She was the faithful and watchful believer, last at the sepulcher where Jesus slept, first at the grave where He arose. Her loyalty and love made her a favored beholder of her beloved Master, who deigned to call her by her name and to make her His messenger of good news to the trembling disciples and Peter. Grace found her useless and made her useful, cast out her demons and gave her to behold angels, delivered her from Satan and united her forever to the Lord Jesus. May we also be such miracles of grace!

 Family Reading Plan Jeremiah 37   Psalm 10

Hebrews 11:32-40

Although most of us would love to have the heroic trust of the men and women mentioned in Hebrews 11, few of us are willing to go through the process which God uses to develop this kind of dynamic faith. We love reading about the great victories and accomplishments of those who trusted the Lord, but we cringe at the descriptions in verses 36-38. None of us want to go through such horrific situations, but adversity is God’s way of purifying our faith.

Picture the Lord as a master sculptor standing before a block of marble–that slab is you! Picturing the hidden work of art within the rock, He lovingly and carefully chips away at everything that does not fit the masterpiece He’s creating.

Character: One of the first areas the Lord deals with is your character. His goal is to shape you into the image of His Son, and there are some traits and attitudes that must be chipped away in order for Him to accomplish the task. His chisel lays bare roots of sin and selfishness.

Idolatry: When anything or anyone becomes more important to us than the Lord, we have an idol in our lives. To protect us, God sometimes uses adversity to strip away everything we have relied upon so that we’ll cling only to Him.

The chisel hurts–it sometimes feels as if God is taking away everything we hold dear. Unless you understand His goal and believe He’s working for your good, you’ll think He’s cruel. But if you trust Him and yield to His shaping tool of adversity, your faith will be purified and strengthened through affliction.

During the long, sunny days of summer, it is difficult to anticipate the coming shortening of days and cooler temperatures. Yet for the residents of the Pacific Northwestern United States, the fall and winter months not only bring darkening days, but consistent rainfall. Not only must we endure many cloudy days, but we must also engage our wills to go out in it and continue daily tasks and recreation. If not, the inside of one’s domicile is all a resident will see for several months—from late October through May.

Sometimes the rain even continues falling steadily into June, known as “Junuary” to the locals, given the similarities to January-like weather. Rain is as ubiquitous to the Northwest as sunshine is to the desert. Like the many names for snow that the Inuit peoples use to describe the subtle variations for the predominant element in their frozen world, there are as many different kinds of rain in this region. Mists, gentle, soft showers, wind-blown torrents, and spring downpours are all ways to describe that long season of cloudy skies and too familiar precipitation.

However, I have observed that the rain doesn’t stop people from being outside and from enjoying the day. Sure, there are those who find the gray days of fall and winter diminishing, but the rain doesn’t prevent most from going outside to walk or to run or to boat in the bodies of water that are as plentiful as the land. Whether it is through adaptation or sheer force of will, we are undeterred. The rainy weather, though it conspires to silence the call of the outdoors, does not mute the song of the mountains or the water, or the countless beautiful places in this region.

It was during a walk in the rain that I thought about the force of the human will. Sometimes we often see ourselves as the victims of the rains or bad weather in our lives. Or we often find someone or something else to blame for our dampened circumstances. Oftentimes, we feel we are powerless, with no ability to change—even in small ways—the course of our lives. We allow the bad weather of life to constrain us to impotence, indecision, and immobility.

Of course, we have reason to suspect the ability of our wills. The vast majority of historic Christian thinking on this subject argues that our wills are bent, broken, and bound. They are not as they ought to be. In the ancient Hebrew tradition as well, the intentions of the human heart are suspect at best. The Hebrew prophet, Jeremiah, wrote that the heart is deceitful above all things and desperately wicked. But what are we left with if a proper suspicion about the ability of the human will binds us from exercising it at all? We are left to wallow in puddles of self-pity and blame. We see only a distorted reflection, unable to move and to do what is good for a world on the verge of another great flood.

Our ability to exercise our wills for good depends in large part on remembering that human beings have been given great gifts. Perhaps this is part of the message to glean from the parable of the talents that Jesus spoke to his followers long ago.(1) Those who recognized the gifts they had been given went out and used them, thus increasing their impact and gaining more. The one who was given a gift but who failed to exercise it and put it to use not only received a stern condemnation from the gift-giver, but also had the gift taken away. In the same way, if our general outlook is that we can do little, affect little because the forces of this world are too great or there are too many factors to blame, then we will have weak, flabby wills, just as surely as our muscles atrophy the longer we sit and fail to go out and walk—even in the rain. Without exercise, we lose the use of our legs.

Further, it is no accident that the gospel writers place the parable of the talents within the larger context of exercising our will to help others. Jesus gives this parable in Matthew’s gospel just prior to sharing a scene of final judgment where God separates sheep from goats according to that which was done “for the least of these” (Matthew 25:45). In Luke’s gospel, Jesus gives this parable after the dramatic conversion of Zacchaeus. This extortionist, hated by all Israel, with every reason to hide his talents, became the one who gave away his money voluntarily impoverishing himself.

Psychologists offer another description. Those with a strong sense of purpose and self-efficacy have a strong internal locus of control, while those who see themselves as victims—for any number of reasons—have a strong external locus of control. For those who view themselves as weak and without gifts to offer, there can always be excuses why the will is impotent—some are quite legitimate. And yet, as the gospel writers indicate, the consequences of a lack of exercise are manifold and eternally costly. We can always find a reason to not walk in the rainy, cloudy weather of our world. But the cost of doing so impoverishes our souls, weakens our wills, and ultimately confines the light of the world behind walls God would have us remove.

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

(1) cf. Matthew 25:14-30; Luke 19:11-27.

Morning “They weave the spider’s web.” / Isaiah 59:5

See the spider’s web, and behold in it a most suggestive picture of the

hypocrite’s religion. It is meant to catch his prey: the spider fattens

himself on flies, and the Pharisee has his reward. Foolish persons are easily

entrapped by the loud professions of pretenders, and even the more judicious

cannot always escape. Philip baptized Simon Magus, whose guileful declaration

of faith was so soon exploded by the stern rebuke of Peter. Custom,

reputation, praise, advancement, and other flies, are the small game which

hypocrites take in their nets. A spider’s web is a marvel of skill: look at it

and admire the cunning hunter’s wiles. Is not a deceiver’s religion equally

wonderful? How does he make so barefaced a lie appear to be a truth? How can

he make his tinsel answer so well the purpose of gold? A spider’s web comes

all from the creature’s own bowels. The bee gathers her wax from flowers, the

spider sucks no flowers, and yet she spins out her material to any length.

Even so hypocrites find their trust and hope within themselves; their anchor

was forged on their own anvil, and their cable twisted by their own hands.

They lay their own foundation, and hew out the pillars of their own house,

disdaining to be debtors to the sovereign grace of God. But a spider’s web is

very frail. It is curiously wrought, but not enduringly manufactured. It is no

match for the servant’s broom, or the traveller’s staff. The hypocrite needs

no battery of Armstrongs to blow his hope to pieces, a mere puff of wind will

do it. Hypocritical cobwebs will soon come down when the besom of destruction

begins its purifying work. Which reminds us of one more thought, viz., that

such cobwebs are not to be endured in the Lord’s house: he will see to it that

they and those who spin them shall be destroyed forever. O my soul, be thou

resting on something better than a spider’s web. Be the Lord Jesus thine

eternal hiding-place.

Evening “All things are possible to him that believeth.” / Mark 9:23

Many professed Christians are always doubting and fearing, and they forlornly

think that this is the necessary state of believers. This is a mistake, for

“all things are possible to him that believeth”; and it is possible for us to

mount into a state in which a doubt or a fear shall be but as a bird of

passage flitting across the soul, but never lingering there. When you read of

the high and sweet communions enjoyed by favoured saints, you sigh and murmur

in the chamber of your heart, “Alas! these are not for me.” O climber, if thou

hast but faith, thou shalt yet stand upon the sunny pinnacle of the temple,

for “all things are possible to him that believeth.” You hear of exploits

which holy men have done for Jesus; what they have enjoyed of him; how much

they have been like him; how they have been able to endure great persecutions

for his sake; and you say, “Ah! as for me, I am but a worm; I can never attain

to this.” But there is nothing which one saint was, that you may not be. There

is no elevation of grace, no attainment of spirituality, no clearness of

assurance, no post of duty, which is not open to you if you have but the power

to believe. Lay aside your sackcloth and ashes, and rise to the dignity of

your true position; you are little in Israel because you will be so, not

because there is any necessity for it. It is not meet that thou shouldst

grovel in the dust, O child of a King. Ascend! The golden throne of assurance

is waiting for you! The crown of communion with Jesus is ready to bedeck your

brow. Wrap yourself in scarlet and fine linen, and fare sumptuously every day;

for if thou believest, thou mayst eat the fat of kidneys of wheat; thy land

shall flow with milk and honey, and thy soul shall be satisfied as with marrow

and fatness. Gather golden sheaves of grace, for they await thee in the fields

of faith. “All things are possible to him that believeth.”

All things are possible for one who believes.    Mark 9:23

Many professed Christians are always doubting and fearing, and they forlornly think that this is the inevitable state of believers. This is a mistake, for “all things are possible for one who believes”; and it is possible for us to arrive at a place where a doubt or a fear shall be like a migrant bird flitting across the soul but never lingering there. When you read of the high and sweet communions enjoyed by favored saints, you sigh and murmur in the chamber of your heart, “Sadly, these are not for me.”

But, climber, if you exercise your faith, you will before long stand on the sunny pinnacle of the temple, for “all things are possible for one who believes.” You hear of exploits that holy men have done for Jesus—what they have enjoyed of Him, how much they have been like Him, how they have been able to endure great persecutions for His sake—and you say, “But as for me, I am useless. I can never reach these heights.”

But there is nothing that one saint was that you may not be. There is no elevation of grace, no attainment of spirituality, no clearness of assurance, no place of duty, that is not open to you if you have but the power to believe. Lay aside your sackcloth and ashes, and rise to the dignity of your true position; you are impoverished not because you have to be but because you want to be. It is not right that you, a child of the King, should grovel in the dust. Rise! The golden throne of assurance is waiting for you! The crown of communion with Jesus is ready to adorn your brow. Wrap yourself in scarlet and fine linen, and eat lavishly every day; for if you believe, you can eat the royal portion, your land will flow with milk and honey, and your soul shall be satisfied in God. Gather golden sheaves of grace, for they await you in the fields of faith. “All things are possible for one who believes.”

Family Reading Plan    Jeremiah 36     Psalm 9

1 Corinthians 13:11-13

Since our Father wants us to mature in the faith, we should stop periodically and examine our lives to see if we’re making progress in this area. Physical growth is fairly easy to evaluate–all you need is a tape measure. But how can you tell if you’re growing spiritually? Let’s begin by considering how children develop.

Desires: Have you noticed that your childhood toys no longer interest you? The maturing process changes our desires in the spiritual realm too. When we’re growing, the world’s pleasures lose their appeal, while our hunger for God and His Word increases. We are eager to be with Him and share with others how He’s working in our lives.

Understanding: When you were young, your perception of the world was very limited. In the same way, we lack spiritual understanding when we’re new believers. But in time, we begin to see life from God’s perspective. Trials and temptations become opportunities for growth, and service for the Lord becomes an honor instead of a burden.

Selflessness: The most obvious sign of a toddler’s immaturity is his selfishness. He wants his way, and he wants it now! Hopefully that is no longer characteristic of you. A mature believer is submissive to the Lord, willing to wait, and more concerned about others than himself.

How are you doing in these three areas of growth? Maybe it’s time to let go of a few childish ways in order to grow into a mature believer. The greatest evidence of maturity is love. When the Lord and other people have first place in our hearts, it’s then that we’re most like Jesus.

In times of crisis we cry out almost instinctively for a power beyond our situation. In the midst of tragedy we seem to recognize that the thought of a sovereign God is comforting. I once read an essay in which the author, a Zen Buddhist, recounted the fateful day his plane came just moments from crashing. As the plane literally dropped from the sky, he recalls being completely shocked by his response, astonished by the words that came out of his mouth. He writes, “When all seemed lost, it wasn’t Mu I had cried out, or even Buddha, but of all things, Jesus—in spite of everything else I had ever believed or done.”(1)

The gospel writer John describes a similar situation. In the chapter following the exchange between Jesus and the woman at the well, Jesus is confronted by a member of the king’s circle.(2) The two accounts sit powerfully beside one another. One life was weary from a hopeless reputation, the other weary of a hopeless situation, and both seemed to recognize in Jesus a sovereign comfort. The woman at the well was living in shame and isolation until she realized Jesus saw her for more than a despairing reputation. The official, who was most likely an officer of Herod Antipas, had traveled from Capernaum to Galilee to see the rabbi from Nazareth. His son near death, he found himself crying out to Jesus, in spite of everything else he had ever believed or done. In the midst of tragedy, his own titles and authority seemed lifeless, the king’s sovereignty wholly inadequate.

Like many today, the royal officer believed Jesus was a unique person. He saw more hope in making the long journey to plead with Jesus than he saw in going to the king, to the temple, or to the chief of priests. The journey was even worth risking what might have been his last moments by his son’s bedside. But also like many today, the officer had not fully considered the uniqueness of Christ until the peril of this moment and until Jesus himself tested his cry.

As his son lay teetering between life and death, the official called to Jesus and pled with him to come to his house and heal his son. His cry for help was both gravely persistent and expectant. But Jesus did not offer what the troubled father solicited. He only offered words: “You may go. Your son lives” (John 4:50).

This moment of decision becomes absolutely pivotal when you realize the man was given only a word of assurance from a man who spoke many words people were unsure about. Even Jesus’s own disciples were confused a good amount of the time with the things Jesus had to say. This grieving father faced a defining decision about the words of Christ that day. Jesus tested his cry for life with an inquiry of his own: “Will you believe in mywords or do you only ask for a miracle?”

The man believed. John reports, “The man took Jesus at hisword and departed.” He was asked to recognize the matchless sovereignty of the one to whom he cried in the midst of tragedy, and he chose to believe there was life in the words of Christ. And he was right. On his way home, his servants met him with news that his boy was living. 

The psalmist declares what we, too, seem to recognize in times of crisis: “The LORD is a refuge for the oppressed, a stronghold in times of trouble.”(3) God is our refuge in the midst of tragedy, the name above all names to cry out when all seems lost. God is also so much more than this. Even as Jesus draws near in a way unlike any other god or idol, his words test our cry: “Who do you say that I am?”  “I tell you the truth, if anyone keeps my word, he will never see death.” “I am the resurrection and the life, whoever believes in me will never die.”(4) Is this not the unique promise and unparalleled comfort for which we cry?

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

(1) Clark Strand, At the Root of It All, http://www.beliefnet.org.
(2) This story is told in John 4:43-54.
(3) cf. Psalm 9:9
(4) cf. Luke 9:20, John 8:51, John 11:24.

Morning “Let me now go to the field, and glean ears of corn.” / Ruth 2:2

Downcast and troubled Christian, come and glean today in the broad field of

promise. Here are abundance of precious promises, which exactly meet thy

wants. Take this one: “He will not break the bruised reed, nor quench the

smoking flax.” Doth not that suit thy case? A reed, helpless, insignificant,

and weak, a bruised reed, out of which no music can come; weaker than weakness

itself; a reed, and that reed bruised, yet, he will not break thee; but on the

contrary, will restore and strengthen thee. Thou art like the smoking flax: no

light, no warmth, can come from thee; but he will not quench thee; he will

blow with his sweet breath of mercy till he fans thee to a flame. Wouldst thou

glean another ear? “Come unto me all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I

will give you rest.” What soft words! Thy heart is tender, and the Master

knows it, and therefore he speaketh so gently to thee. Wilt thou not obey him,

and come to him even now? Take another ear of corn: “Fear not, thou worm

Jacob, I will help thee, saith the Lord and thy Redeemer, the Holy One of

Israel.” How canst thou fear with such a wonderful assurance as this? Thou

mayest gather ten thousand such golden ears as these! “I have blotted out thy

sins like a cloud, and like a thick cloud thy transgressions.” Or this,

“Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they

be red like crimson, they shall be as wool.” Or this, “The Spirit and the

Bride say, Come, and let him that is athirst come, and whosoever will let him

take the water of life freely.” Our Master’s field is very rich; behold the

handfuls. See, there they lie before thee, poor timid believer! Gather them

up, make them thine own, for Jesus bids thee take them. Be not afraid, only

believe! Grasp these sweet promises, thresh them out by meditation and feed on

them with joy.

Evening  “Thou crownest the year with thy goodness.” / Psalm 65:11

All the year round, every hour of every day, God is richly blessing us; both

when we sleep and when we wake his mercy waits upon us. The sun may leave us a

legacy of darkness, but our God never ceases to shine upon his children with

beams of love. Like a river, his lovingkindness is always flowing, with a

fulness inexhaustible as his own nature. Like the atmosphere which constantly

surrounds the earth, and is always ready to support the life of man, the

benevolence of God surrounds all his creatures; in it, as in their element,

they live, and move, and have their being. Yet as the sun on summer days

gladdens us with beams more warm and bright than at other times, and as rivers

are at certain seasons swollen by the rain, and as the atmosphere itself is

sometimes fraught with more fresh, more bracing, or more balmy influences than

heretofore, so is it with the mercy of God; it hath its golden hours; its days

of overflow, when the Lord magnifieth his grace before the sons of men.

Amongst the blessings of the nether springs, the joyous days of harvest are a

special season of excessive favour. It is the glory of autumn that the ripe

gifts of providence are then abundantly bestowed; it is the mellow season of

realization, whereas all before was but hope and expectation. Great is the joy

of harvest. Happy are the reapers who fill their arms with the liberality of

heaven. The Psalmist tells us that the harvest is the crowning of the year.

Surely these crowning mercies call for crowning thanksgiving! Let us render it

by the inward emotions of gratitude. Let our hearts be warmed; let our spirits

remember, meditate, and think upon this goodness of the Lord. Then let us

praise him with our lips, and laud and magnify his name from whose bounty all

this goodness flows. Let us glorify God by yielding our gifts to his cause. A

practical proof of our gratitude is a special thank-offering to the Lord of

the harvest.

You crown the year with your bounty.   Psalm 65:11

All the year round, every hour of every day, God is richly blessing us; when we are asleep and when we awaken, His mercy waits upon us. The sun may leave us a legacy of darkness, but God never ceases to shine upon His children with beams of love. Like a river, His loving-kindness is always flowing, with a fullness as inexhaustible as His own nature. Like the atmosphere that constantly surrounds the earth and is always ready to support the life of man, the kindness of God surrounds all His creatures; in it, as in their element, they live and move and have their being.

Just as the sun on summer days gladdens us with warmer and brighter rays than at other times, and as rivers in certain seasons are swollen by the rain, and as the air itself is sometimes filled with fresher breezes than at other times, so is it with the mercy of God; it has its golden hours, its overflowing days, when the Lord magnifies His grace before the children of men. The joyful days of harvest are a special season of abundant favor. It is the glory of autumn that the ripe gifts of providence are then generously bestowed; it is the mellow season when we enjoy all that we had hoped for. The joy of harvest is great. The reapers are happy to fill their arms with the abundance of heaven.

The psalmist tells us that the harvest is the crowning of the year. Surely these crowning mercies merit a crowning thanksgiving! Let us render it by the inward emotions of gratitude. Let our hearts be warmed; let our spirits remember, meditate, and think upon this goodness of the Lord. Then let us praise Him with our lips and honor and magnify His name who is the source of all this goodness. Let us glorify God by offering our gifts to His cause. A practical proof of our gratitude is a special thank-offering to the Lord of the harvest.

Family Reading Plan      Jeremiah 28         Mark 14

1 Peter 1:6-7

God is always at work in our lives. Even during seasons of adversity, He wants to accomplish something powerful and good. How should this knowledge affect our response? Today’s passage teaches us to choose to rejoice during difficult times. This doesn’t mean we have to be happy about the hardship itself. Instead, joy comes from drawing close to the Lord and believing steadfastly that through His redemptive power, He is growing and preparing us. If your usual response to trials is anxiety, anger, or depression, the idea of having joy in the midst of a negative situation might not seem logical. However, if you look beneath the surface, you will discover that this biblical directive makes sense for several reasons.

Often, our natural reaction to pain is to run in the opposite direction, and as fast as possible. However, God wants to teach us endurance–much like a long-distance runner builds up strength in training–so that we can fully benefit from what He is doing in our hearts. He uses trials as a refining fire to purify us like gold and bring us to greater spiritual maturity. As we realize that we are actually being made more complete through our adversities, we’ll begin to face challenging times with confidence that He always has our best interest in mind.

While a worldly viewpoint sees hope and joy in the midst of dark times as naïve, a spiritual perspective discerns that we’re really progressing on a journey toward life at its fullest. We can be filled with supernatural joy, knowing that the Lord is making us into world-changing spiritual warriors.

 Growing up, I had a pathological fear of getting lost. It didn’t matter if it was in a nearby cornfield that bordered our burgeoning suburbia, or on the busy highways connecting the vast metropolis in which I lived. For me, getting lost was a fate worse than death. While I wish I could pinpoint the origin of this fear, I cannot. Sure, I had the normal mishaps in which I was separated from my family—and I certainly remember numerous times in which I got lost driving. In the days before GPS, I relied not only on hand-written directions, but also on my ability to interpret them when encountering the street-level reality. The twists and turns in the roads often seemed to contradict the directions I had been given! Even today, living in a world in which we have GPS and Google Maps, I can still be turned in the wrong direction. New construction and detours move cars around the city streets in ever changing patterns that conspire to make even the most sophisticated GPS system sputter and fail.   

 When I feel I am lost, there is a deep terror that seizes me. Gripped by a feeling of panic, I am prevented from anything like clear thinking. I feel constricted within, my mind swimming with all of the worst possibilities that will befall me because I am lost. I can only focus in on my terror and I lose all sense of perspective with regards to finding my way. Perhaps the deepest anxiety that accompanies those instances of feeling lost is that I am all alone. I am not only separated from my bearings, but also from anyone who knows me, loves me, or cares about me. In these moments of panic, I feel I will wander alone and wonder how or if I will ever be found.

 In the life of people of faith, there is also the fear of being lost. What if believing the wrong thing leads one off course? What if wrong choices lead down a path from which one might never return? What if doubt separates one from all guidance and direction? Many times, we associate being lost with a deliberate turning away from faith by those who are rebellious, or who, like prodigal sons and daughters, desire escape to a far country away from the controlling gaze of those perceived to hinder freedom of movement in any way.      

 But what about those cases in which the directional equipment fails through no fault of those who seek their guidance? What about those unanticipated twists and turns in the road? What about the unexpected storm that arises and blows the ship far off course? There are certainly those times when disorientation, rather than rebellion obscures the path home. 

 Perhaps in these cases, ‘feeling’ lost is not the same thing as ‘being’ lost.  The ancient Hebrew psalmist suggests that even while one might ‘feel’ lost, one is never lost to God. Where can I go from your presence? Where can I hide from your love? In the midst of his own disorienting experiences, the psalmist found comfort in the fact that even while feeling lost and submerged in the remotest parts of the sea, even there your right hand will lay hold of me. When encompassed by utter darkness, the psalmist believes that the night is as bright as the day.  The psalmist felt lost—disoriented by the forces that would obstruct the clear way. Yet, in the midst of these feelings, the psalmist affirms the abiding presence of God even in the most desolate places.   

This image of the ever-abiding presence of God is extended in the ministry and teaching of Jesus. Jesus expands this image of the God who is especially near, not only to those who ‘feel’ lost, but for those deemed ‘lost’ by others. When the religious leaders of his day grumbled over the tax-gatherers and sinners coming near to listen to him teach, Jesus offered three images of a God who relentlessly seeks the lost in Luke’s gospel narrative.(1) The shepherd leaves the ninety-nine sheep in order to go after the one which is lost; the woman who has ten silver coins turns her house upside down in order to find the one coin she has lost; and the father of the prodigal son is watching and waiting such that he sees his once wayward son while he is still a long way off. In fact, Jesus summarizes his ministry as one that seeks and saves that which was lost.(2)  

This gives me great hope, both for the times when I feel lost, and as I wander alongside many others who have indeed lost their way home. Though some of the directions I’ve tried to follow are indiscernible, and even though I have been turned around and disoriented, I have always found the way home. But, more importantly, even when I feel I have lost my way, I am not lost to the God who pursues me. Like the servant Hagar affirmed when she was lost in the wilderness, you are the God who sees. 

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

 (1) Luke 15
(2) Luke 19:10.  Cf. Matt. 18:11

 Morning “I in them.” / John 17:23

 If such be the union which subsists between our souls and the person of our

Lord, how deep and broad is the channel of our communion! This is no narrow

pipe through which a thread-like stream may wind its way, it is a channel of

amazing depth and breadth, along whose glorious length a ponderous volume of

living water may roll its floods. Behold he hath set before us an open door,

let us not be slow to enter. This city of communion hath many pearly gates,

every several gate is of one pearl, and each gate is thrown open to the

uttermost that we may enter, assured of welcome. If there were but one small

loophole through which to talk with Jesus, it would be a high privilege to

thrust a word of fellowship through the narrow door; how much we are blessed

in having so large an entrance! Had the Lord Jesus been far away from us, with

many a stormy sea between, we should have longed to send a messenger to him to

carry him our loves, and bring us tidings from his Father’s house; but see his

kindness, he has built his house next door to ours, nay, more, he takes

lodging with us, and tabernacles in poor humble hearts, that so he may have

perpetual intercourse with us. O how foolish must we be, if we do not live in

habitual communion with him. When the road is long, and dangerous, and

difficult, we need not wonder that friends seldom meet each other, but when

they live together, shall Jonathan forget his David? A wife may when her

husband is upon a journey, abide many days without holding converse with him,

but she could never endure to be separated from him if she knew him to be in

one of the chambers of her own house. Why, believer, dost not thou sit at his

banquet of wine? Seek thy Lord, for he is near; embrace him, for he is thy

Brother. Hold Him fast, for he is thine Husband; and press him to thine heart,

for he is of thine own flesh.

Evening “And these are the singers … they were employed in that work day and night.”

/ 1 Chronicles 9:33

 Well was it so ordered in the temple that the sacred chant never ceased: for

evermore did the singers praise the Lord, whose mercy endureth forever. As

mercy did not cease to rule either by day or by night, so neither did music

hush its holy ministry. My heart, there is a lesson sweetly taught to thee in

the ceaseless song of Zion’s temple, thou too art a constant debtor, and see

thou to it that thy gratitude, like charity, never faileth. God’s praise is

constant in heaven, which is to be thy final dwelling-place, learn thou to

practise the eternal hallelujah. Around the earth as the sun scatters his

light, his beams awaken grateful believers to tune their morning hymn, so that

by the priesthood of the saints perpetual praise is kept up at all hours, they

swathe our globe in a mantle of thanksgiving, and girdle it with a golden belt

of song.

 The Lord always deserves to be praised for what he is in himself, for his

works of creation and providence, for his goodness towards his creatures, and

especially for the transcendent act of redemption, and all the marvellous

blessing flowing therefrom. It is always beneficial to praise the Lord; it

cheers the day and brightens the night; it lightens toil and softens sorrow;

and over earthly gladness it sheds a sanctifying radiance which makes it less

liable to blind us with its glare. Have we not something to sing about at this

moment? Can we not weave a song out of our present joys, or our past

deliverances, or our future hopes? Earth yields her summer fruits: the hay is

housed, the golden grain invites the sickle, and the sun tarrying long to

shine upon a fruitful earth, shortens the interval of shade that we may

lengthen the hours of devout worship. By the love of Jesus, let us be stirred

up to close the day with a psalm of sanctified gladness.

Now these, the singers . . . Were on duty day and night.  1 Chronicles 9:33

 It was so well organized in the temple that the sacred refrain never ceased, for the singers constantly praised the Lord, whose mercy endures forever. As mercy did not cease to rule either by day or by night, so neither did music hush its holy sound. My heart, there is a lesson sweetly taught to you in the ceaseless song of Zion’s temple. You are a constant debtor; therefore see to it that your gratitude, like charity, never fails. God’s praise is constant in heaven, which is to be your final dwelling-place; so learn to practice the eternal hallelujah. Around the earth as the sun scatters its light, its beams awaken grateful believers to tune their morning hymn, so that by the priesthood of the saints perpetual praise is kept up at all hours; they surround our globe in a mantle of thanksgiving and girdle it with a golden belt of song.

The Lord always deserves to be praised for what He is in Himself, for His works of creation and providence, for His goodness toward His creatures, and especially for the transcendent act of redemption and all the marvelous blessings that flow from it. It is always beneficial to praise the Lord; such praise cheers the day and brightens the night; it lightens toil and softens sorrow; and over earthly gladness it sheds a sanctifying radiance that makes it less liable to blind us with its glare. Do we not have something to sing about at this moment? Can we not weave a song out of our present joys or our past deliverances or our future hopes? Earth yields her summer fruits: The hay is baled, the golden grain invites the scythe, and the sun tarries to shine upon a fruitful earth and shorten the interval of shade, that we may extend the hours of devoted worship. By the love of Jesus, let us be stirred up to close the day with a psalm of sanctified gladness.

Family Reading Plan Jeremiah 27  Mark 13

 John 21:15-19

All of us make tracks through the valley of failure. Then the key question is, What we will do next? Sadly, many believers who stumble give up a vibrant kingdom-serving life for a defeated existence. But failure can also be a chance for a new beginning of living in Christ’s strength.

In pride, Peter thought his faith was the strongest of all the disciples’ and swore that even if the others left Jesus, he never would (Mark 14:29). Yet when the time of testing came, he denied even knowing Christ–and did so three times (Matt. 26:69-75). Satan hoped the disciple would be so wounded by his own disloyalty that his faith would be undermined by shame, condemnation, and despair.

Likewise, when the Enemy sifts believers today, his goal is for us to become shelved and ineffective for God’s kingdom. That’s why he goes after our strengths, especially the areas in which we proudly consider ourselves invincible. But if we’re willing, the Lord can use our failures to do spiritual housecleaning, as He did in Peter’s life. After the resurrection, Jesus met with the disciple personally and restored him, preparing him to become a great leader in the early church. He made it clear that Peter’s potential to serve was defined, not by failure, but by his unwavering love for Christ.

Peter laid down his pride, received the healing Jesus offered, and put on courage with the Holy Spirit’s help. He then risked his life fearlessly to further the gospel, and many came to Christ through his example. Failure was the catalyst that grew in him a stronger, more authentic faith.

 Someone asked me recently to describe how I see God, what I envision, whom I perceive, and how I imagine God reacts when I think I’ve failed or succeeded. As I tried to put these mammoth ideas into words, I found it was helpful to speak aloud the attributes of God’s character. It was also helpful to see again the places where my own experiences of people or authorities have shaped the words I heard myself using, as well as the places where I might unjustly project upon God things that do not belong there. For instance, things that might seem incredibly real to me—my sense of failure or success, a sense of fear or offense—somehow seem, not unimportant, but less tall, less real, if I imagine really trying to describe them to the man who claimed to be God.

 The Gospel of John recounts the story of a man confronted with the responsibility to grapple with his perception of Jesus and the looming worry on his mind. John 4:43-54 tells of a certain royal official whose son was ill and hours away from death. This man had heard that Jesus had arrived in a town nearby, so with a desperate hope he left his son’s side and went to the place where Jesus was teaching. There, he hurriedly begged Jesus to come back with him to Capernaum and heal his son.

 We are not told much about the official’s perspective of the rabbi from Nazareth. Had he heard that Jesus was a miracle worker? Was he certain that God was with him and not Beelzebub as others speculated? Or was it merely a last feeble attempt to change the outcome that seemed likely on his son’s deathbed? This man’s perception of Jesus likely existed hazily within his perception of the things he knew were real—and pressingly real at that moment. His son lay at home dying. As we can imagine, his sense of time and space was incredibly heightened. His son was sick, death moments around the corner. Hearing of Christ’s arrival, the official left quickly hoping there was still time. If Jesus agreed to return with him, they would have to move quickly. 

 At the very least, the official held the hope that Jesus was a powerful healer, a man who might well make a difference in the outcome of his son’s illness. Perhaps he had seen or heard what others were noting: “The blind receive sight, the lame walk, those who have leprosy are cured, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the good news is preached to the poor” (Luke 7:22). Whatever his perception, the official believed there was something real enough about Jesus to possibly mend the peril of the moment. 

 Yet, as in many of the moments we face with tears or anger or excitement, factors other than God’s provision or Christ’s power often seem more real to us. For this desperate father, Jesus was more of a “last hope” in a race against death, than he was hope and life itself. Consumed by the weight of time, the man begged the face of eternity, “Sir, come down before my child dies!” The text is full of anxious awareness that time is of the essence. Like countless others of his day and ours, within his perception of Christ, he had not fully come to terms with the profundity of Christ’s unique claims as they might affect this and every moment. He may have believed him to be real; did he believe him to be God? The greatest tragedy in our thinking about Christ is often that it stops far short from really considering the outrageous claims he has given us to consider.

 Yet here, in a providential test of perception, Jesus responds to the anguished father’s desperation. But he simply says, “You may go. Your son will live” (4:50). In this defining moment, the man had to decide whether Christ was who he said he was or not. He had to decide what and who was more real. Could the hand of Jesus really touch his son across these cities? Could this word really mean something for his son from such a span? Were time and distance the greatest factors in his child’s life or was this rabbi one who could really overturn everything that loomed so real before him?    

 The gospel simply reports that the man “took Jesus at his word and departed” (4:50). At Christ’s word, the man’s perception of reality was sharpened. Jesus became more than a good man, more than a miracle worker; time and distance became lesser gods. Moving beyond fear and hurriedness, trusting beyond time and space, beyond his own eyes, the man took Jesus at his word, and went home to find his son well.

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

 Morning “And when he thought thereon, he wept.” / Mark 14:72

 It has been thought by some that as long as Peter lived, the fountain of his

tears began to flow whenever he remembered his denying his Lord. It is not

unlikely that it was so, for his sin was very great, and grace in him had

afterwards a perfect work. This same experience is common to all the redeemed

family according to the degree in which the Spirit of God has removed the

natural heart of stone. We, like Peter, remember our boastful promise: “Though

all men shall forsake thee, yet will not I.” We eat our own words with the

bitter herbs of repentance. When we think of what we vowed we would be, and of

what we have been, we may weep whole showers of grief. He thought on his

denying his Lord. The place in which he did it, the little cause which led him

into such heinous sin, the oaths and blasphemies with which he sought to

confirm his falsehood, and the dreadful hardness of heart which drove him to

do so again and yet again. Can we, when we are reminded of our sins, and their

exceeding sinfulness, remain stolid and stubborn? Will we not make our house a

Bochim, and cry unto the Lord for renewed assurances of pardoning love? May we

never take a dry-eyed look at sin, lest ere long we have a tongue parched in

the flames of hell. Peter also thought upon his Master’s look of love. The

Lord followed up the cock’s warning voice with an admonitory look of sorrow,

pity, and love. That glance was never out of Peter’s mind so long as he lived.

It was far more effectual than ten thousand sermons would have been without

the Spirit. The penitent apostle would be sure to weep when he recollected the

Saviour’s full forgiveness, which restored him to his former place. To think

that we have offended so kind and good a Lord is more than sufficient reason

for being constant weepers. Lord, smite our rocky hearts, and make the waters

flow.

Evening “Him that cometh to me I will in no wise cast out.” / John 6:37

 No limit is set to the duration of this promise. It does not merely say, “I

will not cast out a sinner at his first coming,” but, “I will in no wise cast

out.” The original reads, “I will not, not cast out,” or “I will never, never

cast out.” The text means, that Christ will not at first reject a believer;

and that as he will not do it at first, so he will not to the last.

 But suppose the believer sins after coming? “If any man sin we have an

advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous.” But suppose that

believers backslide? “I will heal their backsliding, I will love them freely:

for mine anger is turned away from him.” But believers may fall under

temptation! “God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted above that

ye are able; but will with the temptation also make a way to escape, that ye

may be able to bear it.” But the believer may fall into sin as David did! Yes,

but he will “Purge them with hyssop, and they shall be clean; he will wash

them and they shall be whiter than snow”; “From all their iniquities will I

cleanse them.”

 “Once in Christ, in Christ forever,

 Nothing from his love can sever.”

 “I give unto my sheep,” saith he, “eternal life; and they shall never perish,

neither shall any man pluck them out of my hand.” What sayest thou to this, O

trembling feeble mind? Is not this a precious mercy, that coming to Christ,

thou dost not come to One who will treat thee well for a little while, and

then send thee about thy business, but he will receive thee and make thee his

bride, and thou shalt be his forever? Receive no longer the spirit of bondage

again to fear, but the spirit of adoption whereby thou shalt cry, Abba,

Father! Oh! the grace of these words: “I will in no wise cast out.”