As a Christian writer and speaker, I am often asked what the most frequent questions are regarding the Christian faith. Of course, I am frequently asked questions of an intellectual or historic nature: Did Jesus of Nazareth really exist? Is his resurrection from the dead a historical event? How is one to understand the Bible as the Word of God? For some, the questions never go beyond intellectual curiosity or pursuit. For others, these questions need to be answered for constructing a sound apologetic.  

 For others, however, the questions come from the deepest places of the heart. They come because of personal experience with suffering of one form or another. Is there a God?  f so, does that God care about me, know me? If so, why does God seemingly allow so much suffering? When the fervent prayers of righteous men and women do not prevent the cancer from spreading, or the child from dying, or the plane from crashing, or the marriage from failing, these more existential questions come like water bursting through the dam. 

 Unfortunately, these questions are not unique to my ministry or this generation. They have been asked for millennia. The technical term for the theist’s problem with suffering is called theodicy. Theodicy is the word given in the seventeenth century by Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz, one of the great intellectual thinkers of the Enlightenment period.(1) Theodicy attempts to explain how and why there can be suffering in the world if God is all-powerful and loving. In trying to solve this problem, some thinkers have denied the omnipotence of God; God is all-loving, but not able to do anything about suffering. Others dispense of the notion that God is all-loving, at least in any conventional understanding. But, neither of these alternatives provides a satisfactory answer ultimately.    

 Intellectual wrangling over this problem, aside, the experience of suffering in light of both the goodness and power of God has caused many to doubt God, and others to walk away from faith altogether. If God does not prevent suffering, and if God does not care about the sufferer, then for some, the only alternative appears to be that God cannot exist in any meaningful way.

 The writers of Scripture wrestled with these questions too. Often, they provided different ways of answering these questions. Some believed that suffering resulted from sin.  Others believed that God causes suffering as a form of punishment. Still others asserted that suffering brings redemption.(2)

 In Mark’s gospel, a simple story about a boat caught in a terrible storm provides an altogether different answer framed around three profound questions. When evening had come, Jesus and his disciples got into a boat, most likely to cross the Sea of Galilee, in order to “go over to the other side” (Mark 4:35-41). In the course of their travel, a fierce storm arose suddenly and violently. It was so intense that the waves were not only breaking over the boat, but the boat was filling with water and on the verge of sinking. The gospel writer tells us that Jesus was asleep in the stern of the boat and resting soundly when the disciples roused him with their fearful, first question: “Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?”  Jesus seems to ignore their question their question, and instead answers the wind and the waves, “Peace, be still.” His exhortation to the natural elements of wind and water was nevertheless intended for the disciples as well, for he returns their question with a second question: “Why are you afraid? Have you no faith?” To which the disciples reply to one another with the ultimate question, “Who then is this, that even wind and sea obey him?”

 It is not entirely unreasonable for those who want to be followers of Jesus to think that because he is in the boat suffering will not arise. But suffering does come, and the wind roars around and the sky turns black, and the storm of all storms appears to envelop all in darkness and terror. Jesus, don’t you care that we are perishing becomes an incredulous for all who would wish for immunity from the troubles of life. But Jesus’s answer reminds us that faith does not insulate us from life’s storms. Indeed, as noted author Craig Barnes has written “Faith…has little to do with our doctrines or even with our belief that Jesus could come up with a miracle if he would only pay attention. Faith has everything to do with seeing that…the Savior [is] on board“(3) 

 In the midst of difficult and often unending questions about suffering, Jesus is there in the midst of the storm of doubt, in the tumultuous waves of despair, in the gale-force winds of defeat. He rests in the assurance of God’s care in the storm. His presence with the disciples in the storm tells us more about who he is–neither removed from suffering, nor always preventing suffering–then why we suffer.  “Who then is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?” 

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

 (1) Bart Ehrman, God’s Problem (New York: HarperOne, 2008), 8.
(2) See for examples Proverbs 3:33, “The Lord’s curse is on the house of the wicked, but he blesses the abode of the righteous”; Amos 4:1-3, “[Y]ou cows of Bashan who oppress the poor, who crush the needy…the Lord God has sworn in his holiness: the time is surely coming upon you, when they shall take you away with hooks, even the last of you with fishhooks”; and Isaiah 53, the redemption by the suffering Servant.
(3) M. Craig Barnes, When God Interrupts (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 1996), 138.

 Morning   “Just, and the justifier of him which believeth.” / Romans 3:26

 Being justified by faith, we have peace with God. Conscience accuses no

longer. Judgment now decides for the sinner instead of against him. Memory

looks back upon past sins, with deep sorrow for the sin, but yet with no dread

of any penalty to come; for Christ has paid the debt of his people to the last

jot and tittle, and received the divine receipt; and unless God can be so

unjust as to demand double payment for one debt, no soul for whom Jesus died

as a substitute can ever be cast into hell. It seems to be one of the very

principles of our enlightened nature to believe that God is just; we feel that

it must be so, and this gives us our terror at first; but is it not marvellous

that this very same belief that God is just, becomes afterwards the pillar of

our confidence and peace! If God be just, I, a sinner, alone and without a

substitute, must be punished; but Jesus stands in my stead and is punished for

me; and now, if God be just, I, a sinner, standing in Christ, can never be

punished. God must change his nature before one soul, for whom Jesus was a

substitute, can ever by any possibility suffer the lash of the law. Therefore,

Jesus having taken the place of the believer–having rendered a full

equivalent to divine wrath for all that his people ought to have suffered as

the result of sin, the believer can shout with glorious triumph, “Who shall

lay anything to the charge of God’s elect?” Not God, for he hath justified;

not Christ, for he hath died, “yea rather hath risen again.” My hope lives not

because I am not a sinner, but because I am a sinner for whom Christ died; my

trust is not that I am holy, but that being unholy, he is my righteousness. My

faith rests not upon what I am, or shall be, or feel, or know, but in what

Christ is, in what he has done, and in what he is now doing for me. On the

lion of justice the fair maid of hope rides like a queen.

 

Evening  “Who of God is made unto us wisdom.” / 1 Corinthians 1:30

 Man’s intellect seeks after rest, and by nature seeks it apart from the Lord

Jesus Christ. Men of education are apt, even when converted, to look upon the

simplicities of the cross of Christ with an eye too little reverent and

loving. They are snared in the old net in which the Grecians were taken, and

have a hankering to mix philosophy with revelation. The temptation with a man

of refined thought and high education is to depart from the simple truth of

Christ crucified, and to invent, as the term is, a more intellectual doctrine.

This led the early Christian churches into Gnosticism, and bewitched them with

all sorts of heresies. This is the root of Neology, and the other fine things

which in days gone by were so fashionable in Germany, and are now so ensnaring

to certain classes of divines. Whoever you are, good reader, and whatever your

education may be, if you be the Lord’s, be assured you will find no rest in

philosophizing divinity. You may receive this dogma of one great thinker, or

that dream of another profound reasoner, but what the chaff is to the wheat,

that will these be to the pure word of God. All that reason, when best guided,

can find out is but the A B C of truth, and even that lacks certainty, while

in Christ Jesus there is treasured up all the fulness of wisdom and knowledge.

All attempts on the part of Christians to be content with systems such as

Unitarian and Broad-church thinkers would approve of, must fail; true heirs of

heaven must come back to the grandly simple reality which makes the

ploughboy’s eye flash with joy, and gladens the pious pauper’s heart–“Jesus

Christ came into the world to save sinners.” Jesus satisfies the most elevated

intellect when he is believingly received, but apart from him the mind of the

regenerate discovers no rest. “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of

knowledge.” “A good understanding have all they that do his commandments.”

Whom God made our wisdom.  1 Corinhians 1:30

Man’s intellect seeks for peace and by nature seeks it apart from the Lord Jesus Christ. Men of education are apt, even when converted, to look upon the simplicities of the cross of Christ with too little reverence and love. They are trapped in the old net in which the Greeks were taken and have a hankering to mix philosophy with revelation.

The temptation with a man of refined thought and high education is to depart from the simple truth of Christ crucified and to invent, as the term is, a more intellectual doctrine. This led the early Christian churches into Gnosticism and bewitched them with all sorts of heresies. This is the root of unorthodoxy and the other high-sounding notions that in the past were so fashionable in Germany and are now so enthralling to certain classes of divines. Whoever you are, good reader, and whatever your education may be, if you are the Lord’s, rest assured that you will find no peace in philosophizing divinity.

You may receive the dogma of one great thinker or the dream of another profound reasoner, but what the chaff is to the wheat is what these notions are to the pure Word of God. Reason at its best can only discover the ABCs of truth, and even that lacks certainty, while in Christ Jesus there is treasured up all the fullness of wisdom and knowledge. All attempts on the part of Christians to be content with the systems that Unitarian and liberal-church thinkers approve of must fail; true heirs of heaven must come back to the grandly simple reality that makes the plowboy’s eye flash with joy and rejoices the pious pauper’s heart—”Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners.”1 Jesus satisfies the most elevated intellect when He is believingly received, but apart from Him the mind of the regenerate discovers no rest. “The fear of the LORD is the beginning of knowledge.”2 “All those who practice it have a good understanding.”3

11 Timothy 1:15 2Proverbs 1:7 3Psalm 111:10

Family Reading Plan   Ezekiel 28  Psalm 77

Matthew 25:31-34

Scripture refers to “the kingdom of God” frequently, but many people are unclear as to its meaning. Let’s look at the past, present, and future reality of this concept.

The first thing we must realize is that the heavenly kingdom refers to everything under Christ’s control. At the moment of salvation, we are transferred from the reign of darkness to the bright authority of Jesus. And we are eternally secure in Him.

As today’s verses explain, Jesus’ kingdom and reign have been planned since the foundation of the world. From the beginning, God has been preparing mankind for what is to come. One way was by using prophets to foretell how He would redeem humanity and sovereignly rule over heaven and earth.

Once Jesus came and gave His life, He established the “present” kingdom. This isn’t a geographical locale; it’s a term describing the heart, where God’s Holy Spirit indwells believers to guide, counsel, and empower.

But there is also a future aspect of the kingdom, which we can anticipate with excitement. You are probably familiar with the words “Thy kingdom come” from the Lord’s Prayer (Luke 11:2 kjv). This speaks of the new heaven and new earth, where we will enjoy freedom from pain and sin. There, we will worship Jesus with gladness and joy for all eternity.

As God’s kingdom ambassadors, we who are His children have the responsibility and privilege of sharing the good news: Through Jesus’ death, burial, and resurrection, all who trust in Him are forgiven of sin and assured of eternal life with God. Whom can you tell about this amazing gift?

 Gregory Wolfe, editor of Image journal, tells a story about telling stories for his kids. He describes the memorable bedtimes when he attempts to concoct a series of original tales. “My kids are polite enough to raise their hands when they have some penetrating question to ask about plot, character, or setting,” he writes. “If I leave something out of the story, or commit the sin of inconsistency, these fierce critics won’t let me proceed until I’ve revised the narrative. Oddly enough, they never attempt to take over the storytelling. They are convinced that I have the authority to tell the tale, but they insist that I live up to the complete story that they know exists somewhere inside me.”(1) Children seem to detest a deficient story.

There is no doubt that our sense of the guiding authority of story and storyteller often dramatically lessens as we move from childhood to adulthood. And yet, regardless of age, there remains something deeply troubling about a story without a point, or an author not to be trusted.

 In an interview with Skeptic magazine, Richard Dawkins was asked if his view of the world was not similar to that of Shakespeare’s Macbeth: namely, that life is but “a tale told by an idiot, filled with sound and fury, signifying nothing.”(2)

 “Yes,” Dawkins replied, “at a sort of cosmic level, it is. But what I want to guard against is people therefore getting nihilistic in their personal lives. I don’t see any reason for that at all. You can have a very happy and fulfilled personal life even if you think that the universe at large is a tale told by an idiot.”(3)

 His words attempt to remove the sting his philosophy imparts. And yet, it stings regardless—both with callousness and confusion. If I am but a poor player fretting my hour upon the stage of a tale told by an idiot, what is a “fulfilling” personal life?  There is no basis in the naturalist’s philosophy for intrinsic dignity, human worth, or human rights. There is no basis for moral accountability, right or wrong, good or evil. There is no basis for the layers of my love for my husband, the cry of my heart for justice, or the recognition on my conscience that I am often missing the mark. There is no room for my surprise at time’s passing or my longing for something beyond what I am capable of fully reaching in this moment.  This is not the story I know.

 In the words of G.K. Chesterton, “I had always felt life first a story: and if there is a story there is a story-teller.”

 Could it be that our relationship to stories, our first love of the tale beyond us and the author beside us, conveys a deep truth about our own cosmic tale?  Are not the very philosophies we carry attempts to make sense of the grand story of which we find ourselves a part? 

 The first words of Genesis 1 boldly claim that we are not lost and wandering in a cosmic circle of time and chance. There is a story that emerges from the beginning, and we have a place within it. Similarly, the writer of Hebrews describes Jesus as the author and finisher of our faith, where ultimate significance is aptly defined as being written into the story of God. God’s Word places us in the timeline of a coherent history, delivering us from the deceptions of the enemy, telling us who we are, and where we came from, what is wrong with us, how we are made whole, and where we are going. We are placed within a story of which we know and celebrate the outcome, even as we wait for it through time and trial. In Christ, history’s outcome—its ultimate end—is revealed. Dark days may follow, but the ending is known. It is a story neither deficient, nor untrustworthy.

 C.S. Lewis fittingly describes heaven at the end of his Chronicles of Narnia as a place where good things continually increase and life is an everlasting story in which “every chapter is better than the one before.”  His compelling reflection has often reminded me of Christ’s beloved disciple in the closing chapters of his testimony to the significance of Jesus Christ. Notes John, “If all of the acts of Christ were recorded, the world would not have enough room for all the books that would be written” (John 21:24-26). Like children, eyes widen at the thought. What a story to be a part of, a life to find touching your own.

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

 (1) Gregory Wolfe, Intruding Upon the Timeless: Meditations on Art, Faith, and Mystery (Square Halo Books: Baltimore, 2003), 81-82.
(2) Skeptic, vol. 3, no. 4, 1995, pp. 80-85.
(3) Ibid.

Morning  “For I was ashamed to require of the king a band of soldiers and horsemen to
help us against the enemy in the way: because we had spoken unto the king,
saying, The hand of our God is upon all them for good that seek him; but his
power and his wrath is against all them that forsake him.” / Ezra 8:22

A convoy on many accounts would have been desirable for the pilgrim band, but
a holy shame-facedness would not allow Ezra to seek one. He feared lest the
heathen king should think his professions of faith in God to be mere
hypocrisy, or imagine that the God of Israel was not able to preserve his own
worshippers. He could not bring his mind to lean on an arm of flesh in a
matter so evidently of the Lord, and therefore the caravan set out with no
visible protection, guarded by him who is the sword and shield of his people.
It is to be feared that few believers feel this holy jealousy for God; even
those who in a measure walk by faith, occasionally mar the lustre of their
life by craving aid from man. It is a most blessed thing to have no props and
no buttresses, but to stand upright on the Rock of Ages, upheld by the Lord
alone. Would any believers seek state endowments for their Church, if they
remembered that the Lord is dishonoured by their asking Caesar’s aid? as if
the Lord could not supply the needs of his own cause! Should we run so hastily
to friends and relations for assistance, if we remembered that the Lord is
magnified by our implicit reliance upon his solitary arm? My soul, wait thou
only upon God. “But,” says one, “are not means to be used?” Assuredly they
are; but our fault seldom lies in their neglect: far more frequently it
springs out of foolishly believing in them instead of believing in God. Few
run too far in neglecting the creature’s arm; but very many sin greatly in
making too much of it. Learn, dear reader, to glorify the Lord by leaving
means untried, if by using them thou wouldst dishonour the name of the Lord.

Evening   “I sleep, but my heart waketh.” / Song of Solomon 5:2

Paradoxes abound in Christian experience, and here is one–the spouse was
asleep, and yet she was awake. He only can read the believer’s riddle who has
ploughed with the heifer of his experience. The two points in this evening’s
text are–a mournful sleepiness and a hopeful wakefulness. I sleep. Through
sin that dwelleth in us we may become lax in holy duties, slothful in
religious exercises, dull in spiritual joys, and altogether supine and
careless. This is a shameful state for one in whom the quickening Spirit
dwells; and it is dangerous to the highest degree. Even wise virgins sometimes
slumber, but it is high time for all to shake off the bands of sloth. It is to
be feared that many believers lose their strength as Samson lost his locks,
while sleeping on the lap of carnal security. With a perishing world around
us, to sleep is cruel; with eternity so near at hand, it is madness. Yet we
are none of us so much awake as we should be; a few thunder-claps would do us
all good, and it may be, unless we soon bestir ourselves, we shall have them
in the form of war, or pestilence, or personal bereavements and losses. O that
we may leave forever the couch of fleshly ease, and go forth with flaming
torches to meet the coming Bridegroom! My heart waketh. This is a happy sign.
Life is not extinct, though sadly smothered. When our renewed heart struggles
against our natural heaviness, we should be grateful to sovereign grace for
keeping a little vitality within the body of this death. Jesus will hear our
hearts, will help our hearts, will visit our hearts; for the voice of the
wakeful heart is really the voice of our Beloved, saying, “Open to me.” Holy
zeal will surely unbar the door.

“Oh lovely attitude! He stands

With melting heart and laden hands;

My soul forsakes her every sin;

And lets the heavenly stranger in.”

I slept, but my heart was awake.    Song of Songs 5:2

Paradoxes abound in Christian experience, and here is one: The spouse was asleep, and yet she was awake. The only one who can read the believer’s riddle is he who has lived through this experience. The two points in this evening’s text are: a mournful sleepiness and a hopeful wakefulness. “I slept.” Through sin that dwells in us we may become lax in holy duties, lazy in religious exercises, dull in spiritual joys, and completely indolent and careless.

This is a shameful state for one in whom the quickening Spirit dwells; and it is dangerous in the highest degree. Even wise virgins sometimes slumber, but it is high time for all to shake off the chains of idleness. It is to be feared that many believers lose their strength as Samson lost his hair, while sleeping on the lap of carnal security. With a perishing world around us, to sleep is cruel; with eternity so close at hand, it is madness.

Yet none of us are as awake as we should be; a few thunderclaps would do us all good, and it may be, unless we soon stir ourselves, we will have them in the form of war or disease or personal bereavements and loss. May we leave forever the couch of fleshly ease, and go out with flaming torches to meet the coming Bridegroom! “My heart was awake.”

This is a happy sign. Life is not extinct, though sadly smothered. When our renewed heart struggles against our natural heaviness, we should be grateful to sovereign grace for keeping a little vitality within this body of death. Jesus will hear our hearts, will help our hearts, will visit our hearts; for the voice of the wakeful heart is really the voice of our Beloved, saying, “Open to me.” Holy zeal will surely unlock the door.

 Oh lovely attitude! He stands

With melting heart and laden hands;

My soul forsakes her every sin;

And lets the heavenly stranger in.

 Family Reading Plan    Ezekiel 27  Psalm 76

Matthew 25:14-30

In the parable of the talents, the master gave three servants an assignment to carry out in his absence, along with the resources to accomplish it. Upon his return, he asked for an accounting of what they’d done.

From this parable, we can deduce several principles about the Christian life. First, God has chosen us to be His servants. Second, He has prepared work for us to do, and He supplies the assets and abilities we’ll need to achieve it. Some of His work is applicable to all believers–such as loving Him through service, loving people, and making disciples. Other aspects are specific to us, utilizing our personal talents and skills. Finally, the Lord blesses those who obey Him. Pleased by the obedience of two servants, the master in today’s passage recompensed them accordingly. In a similar way, we are promised a heavenly reward for our faithful service.

Being a good steward of what God has entrusted to us is a serious matter. He wants us to invest in His kingdom plan rather than overcommitting time to earthly matters or overspending on the pursuit of pleasure. You might wonder about the third servant, who did nothing with his talent and was cast out of his master’s presence. This cannot happen to believers, for we are permanently adopted into God’s family. But the Lord will hold us accountable for any disobedience.

Through Christ, we have everything we need for life and godliness (2 Peter 1:3). With the Holy Spirit’s help, we can move past our self-centered ways to carry out God’s plan. Do you long to obey Jesus above all else? Are you prepared to stand before Him and give account for your life?

 The first time I remember hearing the metaphor “rain on your parade,” I was at a parade and it was raining. As a nine year old, the disappointment was memorable. To this day, when I hear the metaphor used, it conveys with heightened success all that the phrase is meant to convey—and arguably more. I remember standing in the rain, watching the once-solid crowd dwindling to nothing, the marching bands abandoning their neat rows, the bright floats bleeding in color. The optimistic few remained in their chairs, somehow assured that the show would go on.  But we were not among the faithful few. “I’m sorry that it rained on your parade,” my grandpa said as we piled in the car, soggy and dispirited. With half a parade to remember, we went home, our enthusiasm thoroughly overshadowed by the rain.

 We are mistaken when we think of metaphor as an optional device used by poets and writers for fluff and decoration. Much of life is communicated in metaphor. There is so much more to time’s landscape than often can be described plainly. Metaphorical imagery is unavoidable for the plainest of speakers. When I say to my colleague, “Your words hit home” or “I am touched by your message” I don’t mean that her words are reaching out of her book and patting me on the head. And yet, in a way, I do. What she had to say made an impression, opened my mind, and struck a chord; communicating so without metaphor is nearly impossible. It is the case for much of what we have to say; there is no other way to say it.

 Language seems to recognize that there is something about life that makes metaphor necessary. Words in and of themselves fall short of conveying certain truths and intended meanings. 

 At the image of Christ upon the Cross, the hymnist inquired, “What language shall I borrow, to thank Thee, dearest friend?” One of the things I find most nourishing about the Christian scriptures is their upholding of this mystery, speaking not in rigid confines but with words that always point beyond themselves. Scripture communicates in a language fitting for both the mind and the heart. There is a richness conveyed in its pages that stretches minds and moves emotions. “O Jerusalem, O Jerusalem, how oft I have longed to gather your children together, as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, but you would not have it” (Matthew 23:37). “As far as the east is from the west, so far [God] removes our transgressions from us” (Psalm 103:12). 

 Jesus speaks of the profundity of God’s longing. The psalmist writes of the absoluteness of God’s forgiveness. Both paint pictures beyond the words themselves. Both demand a response while inviting a relationship, and we are freed to worship in spirit as well as in truth. Scripture reminds us that life can’t always be defined plainly, accepted in terms and principles. It reminds us that God is far beyond the insufficient words we assign, and that no eye has seen, nor ear has heard, nor mind conceived what God has prepared for those who love without bound. 

 When the Samaritan woman came to draw water at the well, Jesus asked her to give him a drink. The exchange was plainly enough about water but the words were about life, though she didn’t realize it at first. Shocked that he, a Jew without a cup, would request a drink from her, a Samaritan with a past, she asked if he knew what he was doing. And then they had a conversation about thirst that made her so much more aware of own thirst. 

 “If you knew the gift of God and who it is that asks you for a drink, you would have asked him and he would have given you living water.” 

 “Sir,” the woman said, “you have nothing to draw with and the well is deep. Where can you get this living water?”

 Jesus not only invited the woman to see her need plainly, he pointed her beyond the metaphor, inviting her into the real and unplumbed hospitality of the one that meets that need. “Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again,” he said, “but whoever drinks the water I give him will never thirst.  Indeed, the water I give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life.” 

 In this plain and potent exchange, the woman at the well found someone who told her “everything [she] ever did,” and drew her to everything she ever needed. “Sir,” the woman replied, “Give me this water.”

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

Morning    “I will rejoice over them to do them good.” / Jeremiah 32:41

How heart-cheering to the believer is the delight which God has in his saints!
We cannot see any reason in ourselves why the Lord should take pleasure in us;
we cannot take delight in ourselves, for we often have to groan, being
burdened; conscious of our sinfulness, and deploring our unfaithfulness; and
we fear that God’s people cannot take much delight in us, for they must
perceive so much of our imperfections and our follies, that they may rather
lament our infirmities than admire our graces. But we love to dwell upon this
transcendent truth, this glorious mystery: that as the bridegroom rejoiceth
over the bride, so does the Lord rejoice over us. We do not read anywhere that
God delighteth in the cloud-capped mountains, or the sparkling stars, but we
do read that he delighteth in the habitable parts of the earth, and that his
delights are with the sons of men. We do not find it written that even angels
give his soul delight; nor doth he say, concerning cherubim and seraphim,
“Thou shalt be called Hephzibah, for the Lord delighteth in thee”; but he does
say all that to poor fallen creatures like ourselves, debased and depraved by
sin, but saved, exalted, and glorified by his grace. In what strong language
he expresses his delight in his people! Who could have conceived of the
eternal One as bursting forth into a song? Yet it is written, “He will rejoice
over thee with joy, he will rest in his love, he will joy over thee with
singing.” As he looked upon the world he had made, he said, “It is very good”;
but when he beheld those who are the purchase of Jesus’ blood, his own chosen
ones, it seemed as if the great heart of the Infinite could restrain itself no
longer, but overflowed in divine exclamations of joy. Should not we utter our
grateful response to such a marvellous declaration of his love, and sing, “I
will rejoice in the Lord, I will joy in the God of my salvation?”

Evening   “Gather not my soul with sinners.” / Psalm 26:9

Fear made David pray thus, for something whispered, “Perhaps, after all, thou
mayst be gathered with the wicked.” That fear, although marred by unbelief,
springs, in the main, from holy anxiety, arising from the recollection of past
sin. Even the pardoned man will enquire, “What if at the end my sins should be
remembered, and I should be left out of the catalogue of the saved?” He
recollects his present unfruitfulness–so little grace, so little love, so
little holiness, and looking forward to the future, he considers his weakness
and the many temptations which beset him, and he fears that he may fall, and
become a prey to the enemy. A sense of sin and present evil, and his
prevailing corruptions, compel him to pray, in fear and trembling, “Gather not
my soul with sinners.” Reader, if you have prayed this prayer, and if your
character be rightly described in the Psalm from which it is taken, you need
not be afraid that you shall be gathered with sinners. Have you the two
virtues which David had–the outward walking in integrity, and the inward
trusting in the Lord? Are you resting upon Christ’s sacrifice, and can you
compass the altar of God with humble hope? If so, rest assured, with the
wicked you never shall be gathered, for that calamity is impossible. The
gathering at the judgment is like to like. “Gather ye together first the
tares, and bind them in bundles to burn them: but gather the wheat into my
barn.” If, then, thou art like God’s people, thou shalt be with God’s people.
You cannot be gathered with the wicked, for you are too dearly bought.
Redeemed by the blood of Christ, you are his forever, and where he is, there
must his people be. You are loved too much to be cast away with reprobates.
Shall one dear to Christ perish? Impossible! Hell cannot hold thee! Heaven
claims thee! Trust in thy Surety and fear not!

Do not sweep my soul away with sinners.    Psalm 26:9

Fear made David pray like this, for something whispered, “Perhaps, after all, you may be swept away with sinners.” That fear springs mainly from holy anxiety, arising from the recollection of past sin. Even the pardoned man will inquire, “What if at the end my sins should be remembered, and I should be left out of the company of the saved?” He thinks about his present condition—so little grace, so little love, so little holiness; and looking forward to the future, he considers his weakness and the many temptations that surround him, and he fears that he may fall and become a prey to the enemy. A sense of sin and present evil and his prevailing corruptions compel him to pray, in fear and trembling, “Do not sweep my soul away with sinners.”

Reader, if you have prayed this prayer, and if your character is correctly described in the Psalm from which it is taken, you need not be afraid that you will be swept away with sinners. Do you have the two virtues that David had—the outward walking in integrity and the inward trusting in the Lord? Are you resting upon Christ’s sacrifice, and can you approach the altar of God with humble hope? If so, rest assured, you will never be swept away with sinners, for that calamity is impossible. At the judgment the command will be given, “Gather the weeds first and bind them in bundles to be burned, but gather the wheat into my barn.”1

If, then, you are like God’s people, you will be with God’s people. You cannot be swept away with sinners, for you have been purchased at too high a price. Redeemed by the blood of Christ, you are His forever, and where He is, there His people must be. You are loved too much to be swept away with reprobates. Will one who is dear to Christ perish? Impossible! Hell cannot hold you! Heaven claims you! Trust in Christ, and do not fear!

1Matthew 13:30

Family Reading Plan   Ezekiel 24   Psalm 72

 Galatians 6:1-10

An accountability partner is able to perceive what we can’t see when blind spots and weaknesses block our vision. Such a person serves as a tool in God’s hand to promote spiritual growth, and he or she watches out for our best interest. When choosing this type of confidant, look for these characteristics:

1. Godly. A person who walks in the Spirit will offer genuine wisdom based on biblical principles rather than personal opinion.

2. Trustworthy. No matter what you share with this individual, you must be certain that he or she will keep everything in the strictest confidence.

3. Accepting. He or she must allow you to be yourself–frailties and all–and not try to remake you into someone “perfect.”

4. Courageous. A good accountability partner will lovingly confront you with the truth, even when it hurts (Eph. 4:15).

5. Forgiving. When you make mistakes, trust is built through mutual forgiveness.

6. Edifying. Don’t choose someone with an overly critical attitude that will make you feel worthless. Love edifies and builds up (Eph. 4:29). It never destroys.

7. Encouraging. You don’t want someone with a checklist, who judges or acts like a prophet. Instead, choose someone who takes great joy in encouraging you.

We all can benefit from someone who is able to say what we need to hear without making us feel threatened. Answerability provides checks and balances that promote spiritual growth and protect us from pitfalls. If you don’t already have an accountability partner, pray for that person today.

 I’m at an age in life when enough of it has passed that I can make some comparisons. The last five to ten years have been strange. I recently read some essays by Timothy Garton Ash about the period he calls the decade with “no name”—the turn of the millennium to the present. It is indeed a decade in which we have seen some extraordinary events, some dreadful acts of violence, an ongoing range of catastrophes, and some of the worst economic and moral failures that burst the bubble of unending prosperity and further shuttered confidence in many of our institutions.

 Many years ago, the Czech writer Milan Kundera wrote of “the unbearable lightness of being.”Like many others, he sensed the hollowing out of existence, the thinning out of life, the emptying of meaning that seems to occur under modern conditions. One friend of mine calls this “cultural vaporization.” The thing is, this is not some vague idea or esoteric notion. It is a description of how life is really being perceived.

 Many people today seem convinced that the point of life is that there isno point. We face what Nietzsche call “Das Nichte”—or, the nothing. Our public philosophy tells us that we are the result of blind force plus chance and/or necessity. Yet our movies are filled with romantic longings, visions of other worlds, the hunger for transcendence, and love stories between vampires or other worlds where there is a greater unity of life and being. In other words, we face a massive contradiction between what one set of experts tells us is real and what many artists compel us to hope for and reflect on. And somewhere in the middle are our own, normal, day-to-day lives.

 Chance and choice: is that it? Does all of life come down to this? A roll of the dice, the power of freedom, and the lottery of life? Many centuries ago, an honest voice cried,”Vanity of vanities! All is vanity”(Ecclesiastes 1:2). Why? He was reflecting on life. He was seeking happiness. He sought justice, he sought satisfaction, he sought the meaning of it all. And his journey was conducted under the sun—in other words, he looked at life from within life. It was as Derek Kidner called it “a world without windows.”

 However, his observations do not end there. This book opens us to another perspective, one in which there is a God, and a God that sees, knows, and acts. The book does not descend into some simple resolution of life’s hard problems nor its on-going ambiguities. But what it does do is add something. It adds a presence, it includes a perspective, it invites reflection: If there is more to life than meets the eye, more than can be measured or managed by the senses, then this indeed makes a big difference today.

 With such a difference, weight or weightiness would be restored. Absence would be filled, space would be occupied, and meaninglessness confronted. As Nietzsche wrote, “He who has a why to live for can bear almost any how.” This is a far cry from the new atheists who invite us to shed the childish and wicked delusions of whys and hows and accept emptiness. But what if when the God who is there and is not silent is a God of grace, a God of love, and a God of justice? To those empty, confused, or seeking, the unbearable lightness of being can be met in the abundance of his fullness, a gift by the way of grace, not effort!

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

At evening withhold not your hand.   Ecclesiastes 11:6

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

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

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

Family Reading Plan   Ezekiel 23  Psalm 71

Hebrews 10:24

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

For this child I prayed.    1 Samuel 1:27

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

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

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

1Judges 15:19, margin

Family Reading Plan    Ezekiel 22   Psalm 69