As a young man growing up in Scotland, like many others, I was exposed to Christianity and the symbol of the cross. It was a point of confusion, a mystery at best, and at worst, an object of scorn and disgust. I did not know what it meant or why religious people thought it important, but I knew I wanted nothing to do with it.

Alister McGrath, Professor of theology, ministry, and education at King’s College, London, writes: “Just as God has humbled himself in making himself known ‘in the humility and shame of the cross,’ we must humble ourselves if we are to encounter him. We must humble ourselves by being prepared to be told where to look to find God, rather than trusting in our own insights and speculative abilities. In effect, we are forced to turn our eyes from contemplation of where we would like to see God revealed, and to turn them instead upon a place which is not of our choosing, but which is given to us.”(1)

In other words, nothing in history, experience, or knowledge can prepare the world for God’s means of drawing near. At the cross, something we are not expecting is revealed, something scandalous unveiled, something we could never have articulated or asked for is given to us. Philip Yancey, the renowned author, offers more on this: “Here at the cross is the man who loves his enemies, the man whose righteousness is greater than that of the Pharisees, who being rich became poor, who gives his robe to those who take his cloak, who prays for those who deceitfully use him. The cross is not a detour or a hurdle on the way to Kingdom, nor is it even the way to the Kingdom; it is the Kingdom come.”(2)

I think many of us have significantly distorted ideas about the purpose and meaning of the cross. When many people think of “sin” or the human condition before God, what comes to mind is perhaps something like the image of a child caught with his hands in the cookie jar. Such an image might well be understood as disobedience or maybe even naughtiness, but is it really that important? It is certainly not bad enough to justify extreme reactions. As a result of such a metaphor, our moral reflections on sin tend to foster incredulity or disgust. The response seems totally out of proportion to the offense.

But let us shift the metaphor. Supposing one day you go for a routine medical examination, and they discover you have a deadly virus. You did not do anything. You were not necessarily responsible, but you were exposed, and infected. You feel the injustice of it all, you are afraid, you are angry, but most of all, you are seriously sick. You are dying and you need help.

Whatever the cross and the gospel are about, it is not a slap on the hands for kids refusing to heed the rules of the cookie jar. It is not mere advice to get you to clean up your life and morals. It is not mere ideas to inform you about what it takes to be nice. It is about treatment, a physician’s mediation; it is about providing a solution and discovering life.

The cross may seem an extreme and offensive measure to the problem of sin and death and sickness—but what if it is the very cure that is needed? McGrath describes our options at the cross of Christ. “Either God is not present at all in this situation, or else God is present in a remarkable and paradoxical way. To affirm that God is indeed present in this situation is to close the door to one way of thinking about God and to open the way to another—for the cross marks the end of a particularwayof thinking about God.”(3) Shockingly, thoroughly, scandalously, the cross depicts a God who throws himself upon sin and sickness to bring the hope of rescue miraculously near.

Some find it shocking, some overwhelming, some almost too good to be true. It is, however, for all.

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

(1) Alister McGrath, The Mystery of the Cross, (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1988), 104.
(2) Philip Yancey, The Jesus I Never Knew, (Grand Rapids:  Zondervan, 1995), 196.
(3) Alister McGrath, The Mystery of the Cross, (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1988), 103.

Morning    “Let us go forth therefore unto him without the camp.”     Hebrews 13:13

Jesus, bearing his cross, went forth to suffer without the gate. The Christian’s

reason for leaving the camp of the world’s sin and religion is not because he

loves to be singular, but because Jesus did so; and the disciple must follow his

Master. Christ was “not of the world:” his life and his testimony were a

constant protest against conformity with the world. Never was such overflowing

affection for men as you find in him; but still he was separate from sinners. In

like manner Christ’s people must “go forth unto him.” They must take their

position “without the camp,” as witness-bearers for the truth. They must be

prepared to tread the straight and narrow path. They must have bold,

unflinching, lion-like hearts, loving Christ first, and his truth next, and

Christ and his truth beyond all the world. Jesus would have his people “go forth

without the camp” for their own sanctification. You cannot grow in grace to any

high degree while you are conformed to the world. The life of separation may be

a path of sorrow, but it is the highway of safety; and though the separated life

may cost you many pangs, and make every day a battle, yet it is a happy life

after all. No joy can excel that of the soldier of Christ: Jesus reveals himself

so graciously, and gives such sweet refreshment, that the warrior feels more

calm and peace in his daily strife than others in their hours of

rest. The highway of holiness is the highway of communion. It is thus we shall

hope to win the crown if we are enabled by divine grace faithfully to follow

Christ “without the camp.” The crown of glory will follow the cross of

separation. A moment’s shame will be well recompensed by eternal honour; a

little while of witness-bearing will seem nothing when we are “forever with the

Lord.”

Evening    “In the name of the Lord I will destroy them.”    Psalm 118:12

Our Lord Jesus, by his death, did not purchase a right to a part of us only, but

to the entire man. He contemplated in his passion the sanctification of us

wholly, spirit, soul, and body; that in this triple kingdom he himself might

reign supreme without a rival. It is the business of the newborn nature which

God has given to the regenerate to assert the rights of the Lord Jesus Christ.

My soul, so far as thou art a child of God, thou must conquer all the rest of

thyself which yet remains unblest; thou must subdue all thy powers and passions

to the silver sceptre of Jesus’ gracious reign, and thou must never be satisfied

till he who is King by purchase becomes also King by gracious

coronation, and reigns in thee supreme. Seeing, then, that sin has no right to

any part of us, we go about a good and lawful warfare when we seek, in the name

of God, to drive it out. O my body, thou art a member of Christ: shall I

tolerate thy subjection to the prince of darkness? O my soul, Christ has

suffered for thy sins, and redeemed thee with his most precious blood: shall I

suffer thy memory to become a storehouse of evil, or thy passions to be

firebrands of iniquity? Shall I surrender my judgment to be perverted by error,

or my will to be led in fetters of iniquity? No, my soul, thou art Christ’s, and

sin hath no right to thee.

Be courageous concerning this, O Christian! be not dispirited, as though your

spiritual enemies could never be destroyed. You are able to overcome them–not

in your own strength–the weakest of them would be too much for you in that; but

you can and shall overcome them through the blood of the Lamb. Do not ask, “How

shall I dispossess them, for they are greater and mightier than I?” but go to

the strong for strength, wait humbly upon God, and the mighty God of Jacob will

surely come to the rescue, and you shall sing of victory through his grace.

Humility comes before honor.     Proverbs 15:33

Humiliation of soul always brings a positive blessing with it. If we empty our hearts of self, God will fill them with His love. If we desire close communion with Christ, we should remember the word of the Lord: “This is the one to whom I will look: he who is humble and contrite in spirit and trembles at my word.”1

Stoop if you want to climb to heaven. Is it not said of Jesus, “He who descended is the one who also ascended”?2 So must you. You must grow downwards, that you may grow upwards; for the sweetest fellowship with heaven will be enjoyed by humble souls and by them alone. God will deny no blessing to a thoroughly humbled spirit. “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven,”3 with all its riches and treasures. All of God’s resources will be made available to the soul that is humble enough to be able to receive them without growing proud because of it.

God blesses each of us up to the level and extent of what it is safe for Him to do. If you do not get a blessing, it is because it is not safe for you to have one. If our heavenly Father were to let your unhumbled spirit win a victory in His holy war, you would snatch the crown for yourself, and in the next battle you would fall a victim. He keeps you low for your own safety!

When a man is sincerely humble and never tries to take the credit or the praise, there is scarcely any limit to what God will do for him. Humility makes us ready to be blessed by the God of all grace and equips us to deal efficiently with our fellows. True humility is a flower that will adorn any garden. This is a sauce that will season every dish of life and improve it in every case. Whether in prayer or praise, whether in work or suffering, the genuine salt of humility cannot be used in excess.

1Isaiah 66:2 2Ephesians 4:10 3Matthew 5:3

The family reading plan for April 5, 2012

Proverbs 23 | 1 Thessalonians 2

Colossians 2:13-15

What does the cross mean to you? Many people in the world today view it as a symbol of Christianity, but stop and think about what it represented in Christ’s day. Nobody wore a miniature cross around the neck or displayed one in a place of worship. The cross was a torturous means of execution, and the mere thought of it was repulsive.

Yet believers throughout the ages have chosen this as the sign of their faith. In fact, to remove the cross from our teaching and theology would leave nothing but an empty, powerless religion. The subjects of death, blood, and sacrifice have become unpopular in many churches because they’re unpleasant and uncomfortable topics. We’d prefer to hear about the love of God, not the suffering of Jesus.

But let me ask you this: How could anyone be saved if Christ had not been crucified? Some people think all you have to do to receive God’s forgiveness is ask Him for it. But a sinner’s request can never be the basis for His forgiveness. He would cease to be holy and just if no penalty was imposed for sin. According to Scripture, there can be no forgiveness without the shedding of blood (Heb. 9:22). Christ had to bear the punishment for our sin in order for God to grant us forgiveness.

Every time you see a cross, remember what it really was–an instrument of execution. Then thank Jesus that He was willing to be crucified so the Father could forgive you of sin. Though the scene of your redemption was horrendous, Christ turned the cross into a place of great triumph

The world of belief-systems and worldviews is a complicated playground of stories, storytellers, and allegiances. What makes it most complicated is perhaps what is often our inability to perceive these interacting powers in the first place. That which permeates our surroundings, subconsciously molds our understanding, and continuously informs our vision of reality, is not always easy to articulate. The dominate culture shapes our world in ways we seldom even realize, and often cannot realize, until something outside of our culture comes along and introduces us, and the scales fall from our eyes.

Further complicating the great arena of narratives is the fact that we often do not even recognize certain systems for the metanarratives that they are, or else we grossly underestimate the story’s power. Whatever versions of the story we utilize to understand human history—atheism, capitalism, pluralism, consumerism—their roots run very deep in the human soul. This is why Bishop Kenneth Carder can refer to the global market economy as a “dominant god,” consumerism, economism, and nationalism as religions.(1) These deeply rooted ideologies are challenged only when a different ideology comes knocking, when a different faith-system comes along and upsets the system that powerfully orders our worlds.

This is perhaps one reason Christian scripture calls again and again to remember the story, to tell of the acts of God in history, and bear in mind the one who is near. For into this world of belief-systems and worldviews, God repeatedly tells the story of creation and the pursuit of its redemption; Christ comes and proclaims a kingdom entirely other. The narrative we discover introduces us not only to a new world but a world that jarringly shows us our own.

The signs and scenes of Holy Week alone challenge many of the cultural norms we have grown accustomed to unthinkingly, turning upside down ideas of authority, power, and glory, presenting us a kingdom that reverses everything known. What kind of a king crouches down to his subjects to wash their feet? What kind of a leader tells those under him that the way to the top requires a dedication to the bottom? What kind of meal promises to lift us to another kingdom where we are ushered into the presence of the host? What kind of host claims he is the meal? “And he took bread, gave thanks and broke it, and gave it to them, saying, ‘This is my body given for you; do this in remembrance of me.'”(2)

Holy week asks the world to remember the last moments of a rabbi and his disciples—a meal shared, a lamb revealed, feet washed by one who is both king and servant. But so it also introduces us to another story, invites us into a kingdom entirely different than the one before us, and connects us with the God who reigns within a realm that is both here and now, and also approaching. In the Lord’s Supper, we are literally “taking in” this kingdom, which unites us with Christ in such a way that feeds us to live as he lived.

When the apostle Paul called early followers not to be conformed to this world but to be transformed by the renewing of your minds so that you may discern what is the will of God—what is good and acceptable and perfect, he was reminding them that there are overlapping and contradicting stories all around them, but that the story of God must be their orienting narrative. In other words, we are not left the option of living unaware of all the subconscious ways in which we are formed by the world. Living into the kingdom of God means recognizing the power of God’s story beside every competing narrative. We destabilize these foundational stories by living into God’s reality in Christ by the power of the Spirit. Likewise, as we live further into the story of God’s reign, with our very lives the world sees the subversive power of a narrative that moves far beyond the systems of “consumerism,” or “nationalism” or “pluralism.”

We cannot escape the world’s formative stories nor should we want to escape the particular place where we have been given the gift of time.(3) But the story of Christ’s last days on earth presents a narrative that upsets any convenient embracing of lesser kingdoms. The more we find ourselves drawn into this different kingdom, a world breathed by the Father, proclaimed by Christ, and revealed by the Spirit, the unchallenged, unseen storylines of the world come sharply into focus. The more we taste and see of the kingdom of God, the more we taste and see of the kingdom of earth as well. Like Paul, at times something like scales fall from our eyes and the Spirit compels us to stand up and see anew, going further into the unlikely reign of a suffering servant, where we are mysteriously given strength in his wounds.

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

(1) Kenneth Carder, “Market and Mission: Competing Visions for Transforming Ministry,” Lecture, Duke Divinity School, Oct. 16, 2001, 1.
(2) Cf. Luke 22:19.
(3) Jesus himself prayed, “My prayer is not that you take them out of the world, but I ask that you protect them from the evil one” (John 17:15).

Morning   “On him they laid the cross, that he might bear it after Jesus.”    Luke 23:26

We see in Simon’s carrying the cross a picture of the work of the Church

throughout all generations; she is the cross-bearer after Jesus. Mark then,

Christian, Jesus does not suffer so as to exclude your suffering. He bears a

cross, not that you may escape it, but that you may endure it. Christ exempts

you from sin, but not from sorrow. Remember that, and expect to suffer.

But let us comfort ourselves with this thought, that in our case, as in Simon’s,

it is not our cross, but Christ’s cross which we carry. When you are molested

for your piety; when your religion brings the trial of cruel mockings upon you,

then remember it is not your cross, it is Christ’s cross; and how delightful is

it to carry the cross of our Lord Jesus!

You carry the cross after him. You have blessed company; your path is marked

with the footprints of your Lord. The mark of his blood-red shoulder is upon

that heavy burden. ‘Tis his cross, and he goes before you as a shepherd goes

before his sheep. Take up your cross daily, and follow him.

Do not forget, also, that you bear this cross in partnership. It is the opinion

of some that Simon only carried one end of the cross, and not the whole of it.

That is very possible; Christ may have carried the heavier part, against the

transverse beam, and Simon may have borne the lighter end. Certainly it is so

with you; you do but carry the light end of the cross, Christ bore the heavier

end.

And remember, though Simon had to bear the cross for a very little while, it

gave him lasting honour. Even so the cross we carry is only for a little while

at most, and then we shall receive the crown, the glory. Surely we should love

the cross, and, instead of shrinking from it, count it very dear, when it works

out for us “a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory.”

Evening    “Before honour is humility.”    Proverbs 15:33

Humiliation of soul always brings a positive blessing with it. If we empty our

hearts of self, God will fill them with his love. He who desires close communion

with Christ should remember the word of the Lord, “To this man will I look, even

to him that is poor and of a contrite spirit, and trembleth at my word.” Stoop

if you would climb to heaven. Do we not say of Jesus, “He descended that he

might ascend?” So must you. You must grow downwards, that you may grow upwards;

for the sweetest fellowship with heaven is to be had by humble souls, and by

them alone. God will deny no blessing to a thoroughly humbled spirit. “Blessed

are the poor in spirit: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven,” with

all its riches and treasures. The whole exchequer of God shall be made over by

deed of gift to the soul which is humble enough to be able to receive it without

growing proud because of it. God blesses us all up to the full measure and

extremity of what it is safe for him to do. If you do not get a blessing, it is

because it is not safe for you to have one. If our heavenly Father were to let

your unhumbled spirit win a victory in his holy war, you would pilfer the crown

for yourself, and meeting with a fresh enemy you would fall a victim; so that

you are kept low for your own safety. When a man is sincerely humble, and never

ventures to touch so much as a grain of the praise, there is

scarcely any limit to what God will do for him. Humility makes us ready to be

blessed by the God of all grace, and fits us to deal efficiently with our fellow

men. True humility is a flower which will adorn any garden. This is a sauce with

which you may season every dish of life, and you will find an improvement in

every case. Whether it be prayer or praise, whether it be work or suffering, the

genuine salt of humility cannot be used in excess.

Come, let us go up to the mountain of the Lord.   Isaiah 2:3

It is exceedingly beneficial to our souls to rise above this present evil world to something nobler and better. The cares of this world and the deceitfulness of riches are apt to choke everything good within us, and we grow fretful, desponding, perhaps proud and carnal. It is good for us to cut down these thorns and briers, because heavenly seed sown among them is not likely to yield a harvest.

Where will we find a better scythe with which to cut them down than communion with God and the things of the kingdom? There are places in the world where the lowlands are a breeding ground for sickness. Doctors will often suggest that their patients head for the mountains where they can breathe the clear, fresh air. Heeding such advice, the valley dwellers leave their homes among the marshes and the fever mists to inhale the bracing elements upon the hills.

It is to such an exploit of climbing that I invite you this evening. May the Spirit of God assist us to leave the mists of fear and the fevers of anxiety and all the ills that gather in this valley of earth, and to ascend the mountains of anticipated joy and blessedness. May God the Holy Spirit cut the cords that keep us here below and enable us to climb! We are too often like chained eagles fastened to the perch, and even worse, unlike the eagle, we begin to love our chain and might even, if it came to the test, be loath to have it snapped.

May God now grant us grace, if we cannot escape from the chain as to our flesh, yet to do so as to our spirits; and leaving the body, like a servant, at the foot of the hill, may our soul, like Abraham, reach the top of the mountain, so that we can enjoy communion with the Most High.

The family reading plan for April 4, 2012

Proverbs 22 | 1 Thessalonians 1

Romans 3:23-26

In our culture, sin is no longer considered an issue. Although some people might admit to making mistakes or being wrong, few will actually say, “I have sinned.” The Lord, however, takes sin very seriously. Until we learn to see transgression as He does, we will never understand what happened at Christ’s crucifixion.

The cross was God’s perfect answer to a terrible dilemma. Because the Lord is holy and just, He hates sin and must respond to it with punishment and wrath. Yet He also loves sinners and wants to be reconciled with them. The cross of Christ was the place where God’s wrath and love collided.

The only way to rescue fallen mankind from eternal punishment was to devise a plan whereby the Lord could forgive sins without compromising His holiness. There was no way to overlook transgressions; His wrath had to be poured out–either on us or a substitute. But there was only one possible substitute: the perfect Son of God.

So Jesus came to earth as a man and suffered the Lord’s wrath for us as He hung on the cross. Sin was punished, divine justice was satisfied, and now God could forgive mankind without compromising His character. His wrath was poured out on His Son so that His love and forgiveness could be lavished upon us.

Because of human limitations, we’ll never grasp all that happened while Jesus hung on the cross. We can begin to comprehend only the physical suffering He endured, but in the spiritual realm, Christ bore so much more–the very wrath of God. This costly redemption plan proves God’s great love

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

the righteousness of God in him.”

2 Corinthians 5:21

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

him.”

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

Isaiah 2:3

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The family reading plan for April 3, 2012

Proverbs 21 | Colossians 4

Romans 6:1-14

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

adored the loving Redeemer upon whom your iniquities were laid.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

a song. “The Lord

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

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

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

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

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

the cross!

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

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

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

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

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

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

The family reading plan for April 2, 2012

Proverbs 20 | Colossians 3

1 John 3:19-24

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hosanna in the highest!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Morning    “With his stripes we are healed.”

Isaiah 53:5

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

and weep over his poor stricken body.

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

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

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

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

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

feel that affection glowing now within our bosoms.

“See how the patient Jesus stands,

Insulted in his lowest case!

Sinners have bound the Almighty’s hands,

And spit in their Creator’s face.

With thorns his temples gor’d and gash’d

Send streams of blood from every part;

His back’s with knotted scourges lash’d.

But sharper scourges tear his heart.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

of the field by night.”

2 Samuel 21:10

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

but in a royal pavilion.

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

Lamentations 3:40

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

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

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

The family reading plan for March 30, 2012

Proverbs 17 | Philippians 4

Psalm 25:12

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

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

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

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