Forgiveness Is a Marathon

Article by Vermon Pierre, The Gospel Coalition

It’s the kind of video you watch with silent awe. There on your screen is Dylann Roof, clad in an orange jumpsuit, his stare cold and flat. As you watch, you soon hear the voices of the family members of the people he murdered at the Emanuel AME Church prayer meeting. They’re in a courtroom, speaking to him via closed-circuit video. The murders have happened only a few days earlier. Memorial services are still being planned. Pain and loss are clearly present as you hear the emotion in the voices of these family members.

But the words they speak to Dylann Roof are words of mercy and grace. Instead of anger and hate, they offer him forgiveness.

Many were amazed by what they witnessed from these family members. And it is amazing. But it most certainly was not easy. I fear that in our era of short video clips and changing Facebook and Twitter feeds we’re prone to quickly highlight a video like this yet fail to fully understand or appreciate all it represents.

We need to slow down long enough to consider what it takes to offer this type of forgiveness, and what it takes to continue in this spirit of forgiveness. Indeed, many of us have moved on from this story. Yet the family members and Emanuel AME community cannot. The tragedy will always feel near in their memory.

They have chosen the path of forgiveness, but let’s recongize that this path is costly, and this path is long and difficult. 

Forgiveness Is Costly 

Forgiveness doesn’t come cheaply or easily. It always comes at great expense to the one wronged. In some cases, it comes with permanent cost. The wronged parties must “take it on the chin,” allowing themselves to be physically, emotionally, or spiritually wounded by the offending party instead of seeking an equal measure of revenge. Christians do this in imitation of Jesus, who faced sinful rebels and yet still suffered and died so that we might be forgiven and reconciled to God.

We rightly celebrate what Jesus did, but let us remember that it resulted in him bearing permanent scars on his body. Within God himself, there is a constant memorial to the heavy cost of forgiving us.

It’s a bit trite, then, to point to Emanuel AME Church and tell those who have suffered a significant injustice that they need to “get over it,” to forgive instead of responding with anger.

Actually, anger is the natural, instinctive reaction to being sinned against. Think of your own reaction the last time you felt taken advantage of or misunderstood. The movie Taken is popular not because the main character decides to forgive and reconcile with those who kidnapped his daughter; it’s popular because he takes angry, bloody revenge on them. In many tragedies, such as the recent shooting of Marines in Chattanooga, Tennessee, we don’t blink an eye at the many outcries for immediate retribution against the perpetrators.

So it should shock us when we encounter a situation in which a victim doesn’t take revenge. When someone chooses to forgive, we are watching someone pay an enormously heavy and personal cost.

Historically, the black church has arguably paid this bill more than most other communities in America. We should never take this forgiveness for granted. We should marvel and thank God every time we see it.

Forgiveness Is Long and Difficult

Though Charleston has already faded from the news, it won’t ever fade from the view of those who personally experienced this tragedy. We applaud what they’ve done, share it on social media, then move on to the next thing. But Emanuel AME will have to live out the spirit of forgiveness every day. Forgiveness is neither easily offered nor easily lived. It requires daily “working out”—a daily willingness to look at the scars of injustice and choose to press deeper into grace instead of turning back toward anger and revenge. Over time, the land of anger and revenge will fade farther and farther from our view.

But we don’t get there quickly, especially when the wound is deep. This is why forgiveness is more like a marathon than a sprint. Some stretches are harder than others. At times we go uphill against strong winds. When loved ones vanish from your life because of racist hatred, the act of forgiveness will be continual and tiring. The cry How long, O Lord? by many African Americans arises out of the burden of trying to preserve and maintain faith in the Lord when the end of the race feels a long way off.

Our Bank Account

The example of Charleston victims’ families isn’t a “silver bullet” talking point for us to win arguments about whether racism really matters today or about the right view on the Confederate flag. Instead, their example should be honored with reverence and considered with care. It should encourage us to look first at ourselves, to count the heavy ongoing cost of showing grace to others—especially those who have hurt us most.

Thankfully, our bank account of grace is not empty but full, since someone was willing to pay the greatest cost before any of us ever could or would (2 Cor. 8:9). May this sacrifice lead to more thoughts, more words, and more actions of Christ-bought grace from us to the world around us. 

Vermon Pierre (MDiv, Trinity Evangelical Divinity School) is the lead pastor for preaching and mission at Roosevelt Community Church in Phoenix, Arizona, and a Council member of The Gospel Coalition. He is the author of Gospel Shaped Living. He and his wife, Dennae, have four children.

Originally posted on:  https://www.thegospelcoalition.org/article/forgiveness-is-a-marathon/

Is God Really For You?

Article by Paul David Tripp, posted on PaulTripp.com

Are you in a moment of temptation right now, or have you experienced temptation recently? Are you experiencing some type of sexual suffering right now, or have you recently?

(If not, I'm sure you are close to someone who is.)

As sexual beings with sinful hearts, we should anticipate attraction to things that God prohibits. Similarly, as residents of a fallen world, we should expect to suffer, and at times, that suffering will impact our sexuality.

Despite these inevitable discouraging realities, there's an encouraging promise in Scripture that surpasses whatever we will face.

I love the words of Romans 8:31 - "What then shall we say to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us?"

There are many ways in which I could communicate how God is for you, but I want to focus on three foundational principles that come from the same discussion in Romans 8.

God Is For You … With Uncomfortable Grace (vv. 18-25)

The sexual struggles you face are not a sign that God has forgotten or abandoned you. He has placed you in a fallen world and in a broken body because he is delivering to you redemption, not your ideal situation of comfort and pleasure.

In the hands of our Redeemer, this groaning world becomes a tool of his transforming, refining, heart-changing grace. God uses the sexual brokenness around us to expose our wandering hearts. No, he won't ever tempt us to sin, but he will use the chaos to drive us to more deeply and consistently follow him.

God Is For You … With Supplying Grace (vv. 26-32)

At times, the battle with temptation is so great, so discouraging, and so emotionally taxing that you don't even know how to pray. In these moments, God does not turn his back on you. In fact, the Holy Spirit carries your cries in words of grace to the Father.

Beyond that, the Cross of Jesus Christ is our guarantee that in all our struggles with sex, no matter who we are and what those struggles may be, God will give us everything we need. If he willingly gave us his Son, we can rest assured he will gladly supply what we are not able to supply for ourselves.

God Is For You … With Inseparable Grace (vv. 33-39)

I've had countless people say to me in counseling sessions, "I think I’ve fallen so much that God has given up on me." It's a cruel lie of the Enemy that God would ever give up on one of his blood-purchased children.

The end of Romans 8 famously assures us that we will never encounter or struggle with anything that has the power to separate us from the love of the One who so generously blesses us with his presence and his grace.

You see, this world, with all its sexual distortion, confusion, and seduction, can't separate you from God's love. Your darkest moment of sexual wandering and defeat can’t separate you from God's love. His love for you is eternal.

So if Romans 8 is right about who God is and what he has given us in Jesus Christ, then we should be the most honest community on earth, because we know that whatever is known or exposed about us has already been fully covered by his amazing grace.

Why don't we talk honestly and hopefully about our sexual struggles and suffering!

God bless

Paul David Tripp

Reflection Questions

1. When was the last time you experienced the uncomfortable grace of God? How did you respond, and did your responses draw you closer to the Lord, or push you farther away?
2. Have you ever felt that your sin, or your suffering, had separated you from the love of God? In addition to Romans 8, what other Biblical evidence can you preach to yourself in these dark moments?
3. Who do you know who needs the truths from Romans 8:18-39? Whether or not it pertains to their sexuality, suffering or something else, how can you be a tool of God's encouragement?

It Was My Sin That Held Him There : WEEPING AT THE FOOT OF THE CROSS

Article by Greg Morse,  Content strategist, desiringGod.org

On Good Friday, we celebrate the saddest day in history.

Blood streamed down his face. Massive thorns stuck to the head of their Maker. Groans of agony came from the mouth of him who spoke the world into being. The soldiers beat him. They flogged him. They tortured him.

As he inched through the streets of Jerusalem, his cross pressing into his lacerated back, many shuddered at him. The face of God, which Moses could not look at and live, could no longer even be recognized as human (Isaiah 52:14). Women hid their children from the bloody mass of flesh before them. Men taunted him. Soldiers clubbed him. Angels shrieked in horror.

Every prophecy about his suffering was being fulfilled. By judgment and oppression, he was taken away. His sheep scattered when their enemies struck him. One of his own sold him and betrayed him with a kiss. He found no rest as they beat him, spit on him, and mocked him through the night. In the morning, he gave his back to those who struck him, his cheeks to those who plucked his beard.

He stepped forward to Calvary as a lamb to the slaughter.

His Love Was Rated-R

I remember the first time I watched The Passion of the Christ fourteen years ago. The sight of Roman ninetails sinking their claws into his back seemed to pierce my soul with Mary’s (Luke 2:35). The blood. The screams. The anguish. I could never again thoughtlessly tell others that Christ died for them. The scene forbade cliché. It was grizzly, ghastly, gruesome — rated-R.

I rarely cry, but as I watched Jesus shed his blood all over the Roman courtyard, I could not help but weep. As they held the nails over his hands and feet — his mother watching him — every swing of the hammer pierced my heart. Only the heartless could watch unfeelingly. Has there ever been a more tragic scene?

I did not consider his wounds enough. I did not weep over his suffering as often as I felt I should have. But how does Jesus respond to me, and people like me, who take Good Friday to grieve over his unbearable sufferings? Two thousand years ago he said to those weeping for him that day, “Weep not for me; weep for yourselves.”

Silence on the Set

Of the many horrors of Calvary, one that was especially acute was the shame of it all (Hebrews 12:2). His was a public execution. The condemned usually were naked. To add to this, the prophecy reads, “All who see me mock me; they make mouths at me; they wag their heads” (Psalm 22:7). It is one thing to suffer; another to do so before a whole nation as they ridicule you.

But mockery was not the only sound made on his behalf. A host of women trailed behind him, lamenting the expiring prophet. They followed Jesus’s drops of blood — as so many of us do today — with drops of tears.

But upon hearing their sobs, Jesus, battered and broken, turned his face towards them and spoke these gracious, yet shocking words: “Daughters of Jerusalem, do not weep for me, but weep for yourselves and for your children” (Luke 23:28).

This part of the passion didn’t make the movie.

On that first Good Friday, Jesus turned to his loudest sympathizers — those who are not cursing him, mocking him, but wailing on his behalf — and silenced them. He commands their tears escort him no further. He opts to press into the night without their mourning.

Weep Not for Me

Jesus did not need their tears two millennia ago, and as unpopular as it may be, Jesus does not need our tears today. And this fact owes to us seeing his passion through the eyes of faith.

Weep not for me, he said. As if to say,

I am saving my people. I have prayed, tender souls, and know my Father’s will concerning this cup — shall I not drink it (John 18:11)? My hands willingly grasp this wood because my food is to do my Father’s will (John 4:32, 34). And his will is glorious: he sent me to serve and give my life as a ransom for my people. My body is broken, and my blood is spilled for you (Luke 22:19–20). Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends. Do not weep over the labor pains that give birth to your salvation and unshakable joy (John 16:20–22).

Weep not for me, as if to say,

I am not a helpless victim. I am a warrior-king with thousands of angels at my beck and call (Matthew 26:53). One word from me and this horror would end. One word from me and Rome would be destroyed. One word from me and all would be eternally condemned. But I was sent to save the world, not condemn it (John 3:17). Trust that no man — or army — can steal my life from me. I lay it down of my own accord, and I will take it up again (John 10:11–18).

Weep not for me, as if to say,

I am conquering. You see my heel being bruised and you mourn — but look through the eyes of faith and see the serpent’s skull trampled (Genesis 3:15). Although I walk as the Lamb, I conquer as the Lion — the predator, not the prey, will hang on the cross (Revelation 5:5–6). I am a King who shall rule the universe from a tree. And I shall make this cross my scepter. As they lift me up, I thrust my enemies under my feet as a footstool (Psalm 110:1). My triumphal entry is followed by a triumphal exit. Why should you weep over my hour of glorification (John 12:27–28)?

Weep not for me, as if to say,

Sunday is coming. I have said repeatedly that in three days I shall rise (Matthew 16:21; 17:22–23; 20:18–19). Although today is full of unutterable darkness, unimaginable pain, unthinkable terror, Sunday is coming. My Father’s perfect hand is crushing me, evil men are murdering me, my disciples have fled from me, but truly I tell you, Sunday is coming. Joy is set before me and empowers me to endure. A crown awaits me. An endless celebration awaits me. My blood-bought people await me. Eternal glory awaits me. My Father awaits me. Weep not for me.

Weep for Yourselves

Jesus does not stop their tears completely but redirects them: “Do not weep for me, but weep for yourselves and for your children.” God’s wrath will soon visit the people for their sin. The nation that rejected her Messiah — not Jesus — is to be pitied.

“Behold, the days are coming when they will say, ‘Blessed are the barren and the wombs that never bore and the breasts that never nursed!’ Then they will begin to say to the mountains, ‘Fall on us,’ and to the hills, ‘Cover us.’” (Luke 23:29–30)

“Weep for yourselves,” as if to say,

I can bear my cup, but you cannot bear yours. Rome will kill your children before your own eyes. The beast you conspire with today will surround you tomorrow. Your anguish will be so severe that it is better to collect these tears in a bottle to save for that dreadful day.

My sufferings will end at death; yours may not. Many will cry for the mountains to cover you, but that can only spare you from the judgment of Rome — it cannot spare you from the judgment of God. The hounds of his justice do not stop at death. He is God of both the living and the dead (Acts 10:42). Vengeance is his; he will repay (Hebrews 10:30). And it is a fearful thing to fall unshielded into the hands of the living God (Hebrews 10:31).

Weep for your sins. Gentle daughters, useless are the tears that fall on my behalf because of suffering but never fall because of sin. Many weep over my suffering, but not the sin which caused it. The horror you see before you is my becoming sin for my people and bearing the wrath they deserve, that they should have my righteousness (2 Corinthians 5:21). If you weep, better to weep over the lust that hammers the nail deeper, the lie that sticks a thorn in the brow; the cowardly duck that makes a gash upon me, the prideful strut that keeps me upon Calvary’s path.

It Was My Sin

I watched The Passion of the Christ each year for four years — being moved every time to tears — all while I was not truly born again. And I thought myself better for crying, as if my sins would be passed over if I had tears painted on my doorpost. It did not take a regenerate heart to weep over the sufferings of Jesus — our world is full of unbelievers who cry over sad things — but it did take a regenerate heart to mourn over what I rarely really mourned over: my sins (James 4:8–10).

And those who witnessed Jesus’s execution two thousand years ago didn’t see their sins in the cross either: “Who considered that he was cut off out of the land of the living, stricken for the transgression of my people?” (Isaiah 53:8) The horror stayed “over there,” while they remained innocent bystanders. They missed the point and beauty of the cross. They cried and cried, but had not love. Until we can truly sing, “It was my sin that held him there, until it was accomplished,” we weep for him in vain.

We should weep indeed at the foot of the cross, but not with pity. With faith. Those tears don’t dry up the Monday after Easter. Those tears mourn over the sin that nailed him there. Those tears sing over him as our conquering King. And those tears celebrate his death until he returns.

Greg Morse is a content strategist for desiringGod.org and graduate of Bethlehem College & Seminary. He and his wife, Abigail, live in St. Paul.

Why We Call the Worst Friday ‘Good’

Article by  David Mathis . Executive Editor, desiringGod.org

It was the single most horrible day in the history of the world.

No incident has ever been more tragic, and no future event will ever match it. No surprise attack, no political assassination, no financial collapse, no military invasion, no atomic detonation or nuclear warfare, no cataclysmic act of terrorism, no large-scale famine or disease — not even slave trading, ethnic cleansing, or decades-long religious warring can eclipse the darkness of that day.

No suffering has ever been so unfitting. No human has ever been so unjustly treated, because no other human has ever been so worthy of praise. No one else has ever lived without sin. No other human has ever been God himself. No horror surpasses what transpired on a hill outside Jerusalem almost two millennia ago.

And yet we call it “Good” Friday.

What Man Meant for Evil

For Jesus, that most horrible of days dawned in Roman custody at the governor’s headquarters. His own people had turned him over to the oppressive empire. The thread that held the Jewish nation together was its pining for a promised ruler in the line of their great beloved King David. Both David himself, and the prophets who came before and after him, pointed the people to an even greater king who was to come. Yet when he finally came, his people — the very nation that ordered its collective life around waiting for him — did not see him for who he was. They rejected their own Messiah.

“It was the single most horrible day in the history of the world. No incident has or ever will be more tragic.”

In his own day, David had seen pagans plot against him as God’s anointed one. “Why do the nations rage and the peoples plot in vain? The kings of the earth set themselves, and the rulers take counsel together, against the Lord and against his Anointed” (Psalm 2:1–2). But now David’s words had come true of his greater descendant, as Jesus’s own people turned on him to hand him over to Rome.

Judas Meant It for Evil

Judas wasn’t the first to plot against Jesus, but he was the first to “deliver him over” (Matthew 26:15) — the language of responsibility which the Gospels repeat again and again.

The schemes against Jesus began long before Judas realized money might be made available to a mole. What began with maneuvering to entangle Jesus in his words (Matthew 22:15) soon devolved into a conspiracy to put him to death (Matthew 26:4). And Judas’s love for money made him a strategic first domino to fall in delivering Jesus to death.

Jesus had seen it coming. He told his disciples ahead of time, “See, we are going up to Jerusalem. And the Son of Man will be delivered over to the chief priests and scribes . . .” (Matthew 20:18). At first the traitor was nameless. Now he emerges from Jesus’s own inner circle of twelve. One of his close friends will turn on him (Psalm 41:9), and for a slave’s price (Zechariah 11:12–13): thirty filthy pieces of silver.

Jewish Leaders Meant It for Evil

But Judas didn’t act alone. Jesus himself had foretold that “the chief priests and scribes” would “condemn him to death and deliver him over to the Gentiles to be mocked and flogged and crucified” (Matthew 20:18–19). And it all unfolded according to plan. “The band of soldiers and their captain and the officers of the Jews” arrested him and delivered him to Pilate (John 18:12, 30). As Pilate would acknowledge to Jesus, “Your own nation and the chief priests have delivered you over to me” (John 18:35).

On the day God’s chosen Messiah was grossly and unjustly executed, the human agents of evil standing at the helm were the formal officers of God’s chosen people. Fault would not be limited to them, but to them much had been given, and much would be required (Luke 12:48). Jesus was clear with Pilate who deserved more blame: “he who delivered me over to you has the greater sin” (John 19:11).

Even Pilate could tell why the Jewish leaders had it out for Jesus: “He perceived that it was out of envy that the chief priests had delivered him up” (Mark 15:10). They saw Jesus winning favor with the people, and quaked at the prospect of their own influence eroding (John 12:19). Jesus’s rise to renown posed such a threat to their fragile sense of authority, with its accompanying privilege, that liberal priests and conservative scribes crossed the aisle to work together.

Pilate Meant It for Evil

In a web of wickedness, guilty parties serve their complementary roles. The Jewish leaders drove the plan, Judas served as catalyst, and Pilate too had his own part to play, however passive. He would try to cleanse the guilt from his conscience by publicly washing his hands of the whole affair, but he was not able get himself off the hook.

As the ranking Roman onsite, he could have put an end to the injustice he saw unfolding in front of him. He knew it was evil. Both Luke and John record three clear instances of Pilate declaring, “I find no guilt in him” (Luke 23:14–15, 20, 22; John 18:38; 19:4, 6). In such a scenario, a righteous ruler would not only have vindicated the accused, but seen to it that he was protected from subsequent harm from his accusers. Yet, ironically, finding no guilt in Jesus became the cause for Pilate’s guilt, as he bowed to what seemed politically expedient in the moment.

“There is not one day, one loss, or one pain in your life over which God cannot write ‘good.’”

First, Pilate tried to bargain. He offered to release a notorious criminal. But the people called his bluff, incited by their leaders, and called for the release of the guilty instead. Now Pilate was cornered. He washed his hands as a show and “released for them Barabbas, and having scourged Jesus, delivered him to be crucified” (Matthew 27:26; Mark 15:15). Pilate’s part, no doubt, was more reactive than the conspiring Jewish leaders, but when “he delivered Jesus over to their will” (Luke 23:25) he joined them in their wickedness.

The People Meant It for Evil

The rank and file played their part as well. They allowed themselves to be incited by their conniving officials. They called for the release of a man they knew was guilty in place of a man who was innocent. Rightly would the apostle Peter preach in Acts 3:13–15 as he addressed the people of Jerusalem,

You delivered [Jesus] over and denied [him] in the presence of Pilate, when he had decided to release him. But you denied the Holy and Righteous One, and asked for a murderer to be granted to you, and you killed the Author of life, whom God raised from the dead.

As the early Christians in Jerusalem would pray, “Truly in this city there were gathered together against your holy servant Jesus, whom you anointed, both Herod and Pontius Pilate, along with the Gentiles and the peoples of Israel” (Acts 4:27). Neither Herod nor the Romans are clean as well. In the end, in a surprising turn, Jews and Gentiles worked together to kill the Author of life.

And soon enough we come to find that it’s not only Judas, Pilate, the leaders, and the people who are implicated. We see our own evil, even as we see through the blackness of this Friday to the light of God’s goodness: we delivered him over. “Christ died for our sins” (1 Corinthians 15:3). Jesus was “delivered up for our trespasses” (Romans 4:25). He “gave himself for our sins” (Galatians 1:4). “He himself bore our sins in his body on the tree” (1 Peter 2:24). What we meant for evil, God meant for good.

God Meant It for Good

God was at work, doing his greatest good in our most horrible evil. Over and in and beneath the spiraling evil of Judas, the Jewish leaders, Pilate, the people, and all forgiven sinners, God’s hand is steady, never to blame for evil, ever working it for our final good. As Peter would soon preach, Jesus was “delivered up according to the definite plan and foreknowledge of God” (Acts 2:23). And as the early Christians would pray, “Herod and Pontius Pilate, along with the Gentiles and the peoples of Israel, [did] whatever your hand and your plan had predestined to take place” (Acts 4:27–28).

Never has Joseph’s banner flown so truly as it did on that day: what man meant for evil, God meant for good(Genesis 50:20). And if this day, of all days, bears not only the fingerprints of sinners for evil, but also the sovereign hand of God for good, how can we not fly Joseph’s banner over the great tragedies and horrors of our lives? Since God himself “did not spare his own Son but gave him upfor us all, how will he not with him graciously give us all things” for our everlasting good (Romans 8:32)?

God wrote “good” on the single worst day in the history of the world. And there is not one day — or week, month, year, or lifetime of suffering — not one trauma, not one loss, not one pain, momentary or chronic, over which God cannot write “good” for you in Christ Jesus.

Satan and sinful man meant that Friday for evil, but God meant it for good, and so we call it Good Friday.

David Mathis (@davidcmathis) is executive editor for desiringGod.org and pastor at Cities Churchin Minneapolis. He is a husband, father of four, and author of Habits of Grace: Enjoying Jesus through the Spiritual Disciplines.

10 Things You Should Know about the Presence of God

Article by: J. Ryan Lister

1. God is immanent because he is transcendent.

The Lord is “God in the heavens above (transcendent) and on the earth beneath (immanent)” (Josh 2:11). But to understand God in full we must recognize that his drawing near to creation stems from his being distinct from creation. In other words, there is no deficiency in God that creation satisfies. The Lord doesn’t relate to this world because he lacks something within himself. No, God draws near out of the abundance of who he is.

God’s transcendence distinguishes him from the created order and puts things in their right perspective. God does not come to us needy and wanting, but rather he comes to “revive the spirit of the lowly and the heart of the contrite” (Isa 57:15). It is the holy and righteous One above who restores the broken and needy below.

2. The Bible emphasizes God’s manifest presence, not only his omnipresence.

There is a difference between saying “God is everywhere,” and saying “God is here.” The former is the default category for most Christians. We talk about God’s presence being inescapable and that he is “everywhere present” (Ps 139:5-12; 1 Kings 8:27).

But it seems Scripture is more concerned with his presence manifest in relationship and redemption. And though these divine realities are certainly not at odds, the biblical story does turn on God’s being manifest with his people in Eden, the tabernacle/temple, the incarnation of Christ, and the new heaven and new earth.

3. The story of Scripture begins and ends with the presence of God.

In the book of Genesis, Eden is the first couple’s home but, more importantly, it is God’s sanctuary—the garden temple where the Creator and his image-bearers relate (Gen 3:8).

Fast forward to the end of our Bibles and we see a very similar picture but on a much larger scale. All of heaven has collided with the whole earth to make a perfect sanctuary for God to dwell with man (Rev 21:1-4). In the book of Revelation, Eden has returned and expanded into new heaven and new earth where all of God’s people enjoy his presence eternally.

4. Humanity’s mission and the presence of God are inseparable.

God gave man and woman purpose. They are to “be fruitful and multiply” in order to “fill the earth and subdue it and have dominion” (Gen 1:28). Adam and Eve are to do this in Eden, the epicenter of God’s relational presence in creation. As the first couple’s family expands, so too will the garden’s borders and, with it, God’s presence. Likewise, God’s presence was to spread to the rest of the earth through Adam and Eve’s exercising dominion (Num 14:21; cf. Ps 72:19; Isa 11:9).

5. Sin undermines humanity’s mission and the experience of God’s presence.

But there is a problem, isn’t there? Adam and Eve replace blessings for curses when they eat the forbidden fruit. These curses cut right to the heart of who they are and what they were made to do. For Eve, pain overwhelms the promise of a people. For Adam, perspiration and thorns will impede the promise of place.

Sin hinders everything now, especially man’s experience of God’s presence. Because of their disobedience, Adam and Eve are now exiles; their mission is in shambles as they stand outside of Eden. The presence of God they once knew freely is no longer free.

Sin hinders everything now, especially man’s experience of God’s presence.

6. God covenants to bring his presence back to his people.

But in grace, God steps in to pay the price. To overcome man’s sin and ensure his purposes, the Creator becomes covenant Redeemer. Through his covenant promises, the Lord restores what Adam failed to do. God makes a people and a place through the covenant all the while keeping his promises to humanity.

God does all of this so that he can be our God and we can be his people (Gen 17:7; Ex 6:7; 29:45, Rev 21:3, etc.). At the heart of the covenant, then, is a relationship—one that is decidedly on his terms. God enters into his creation to create a people and a place for his presence. And so the covenant is as the Lord declares at Sinai: “I will dwell among the people of Israel and be their God. And they shall know that I am the Lord their God, who brought them out of the land of Egypt that I might dwell among them” (Ex 29:45-46).

7. The presence of God is the means and end of redemption.

As evangelicals, we talk a lot about the presence of God but seldom look to the Bible to see what it is. When we do, we find that it is first and foremost a theme on which the story of Scripture hinges. If we read our Bibles though we begin to see a two-fold pattern.

First, the Bible makes clear that the presence of God is a central goal in God’s redemptive mission. All of God’s work ends with the Lord dwelling with man. And second, the presence of God is, not only an objective, it is also the means by which the redemptive mission is fulfilled. God writes himself into his own story to bring salvation. To understand our Bibles and how it changes us, we need to know God’s presence.

8. The presence of God finds its greatest expression in Immanuel, God with us.

God himself comes to save. Jesus Christ, the Son of God, entered human history to give his life as a ransom for many (Matt 20:28; Mark 10:45). In his grace, God buys us back in the most unimaginable way possible: God in Christ became a man, walked among humanity, and died for his people.

In this merciful act, Christ reconciles us to himself and re-opens access to the Father so that those who were once exiled from his presence might again draw near to God (Heb 4:16; 7:19).

9. The purposes of the church are tied to the presence of God.

The presence of God has massive implications for the way we understand the church (1 Cor 3:16-17; 2 Cor 6:14-7:1; Eph 2:13-22). The New Testament calls the church a temple for a reason. Through this image, we see that the community of Christ is—in this time of waiting on Christ’s return—the instrument the Lord uses to disseminate his presence to a lost and sinful world.

Accordingly, the church has two clear purposes: 1) the church works within itself for the sanctification of its members to prepare God’s people for God’s present and future presence; and 2) the church works externally to share the gospel so that the lost may enjoy God’s presence now and forever as well.

10. To be a joyful Christian is to know God’s presence.

If we are honest, many of us can think of God as our “magic genie” from time to time. We keep him on the shelf until troubles arise or there is something our neighbor has that we really want. The problem is, real relationships don’t work this way—especially with the triune God. The Lord over all will not be left on the shelf of anyone’s life.

Instead, Scripture is clear that all of life—and, principally, the gospel life—is about being in God’s relational presence. This is why David proclaims, “in your presence there is fullness of joy, at your right hand are pleasures forevermore” (Ps 16:11). When we push all our peripheral issues to the periphery, this is all that is left and all that really matters.

Ryan Lister (PhD, The Southern Baptist Theological Seminary) is an associate professor of theology at Western Seminary and has also held teaching positions at Biola University, Louisiana College, and Charleston Southern University. He is on staff with Humble Beast, a Christian recording studio in Portland, Oregon. Ryan and his wife, Chase Elizabeth, live in Portland, Oregon, with their four children.

10 Things You Should Know about Suffering

Article by: Dave Furman

1. Suffering is a result of the fall.

God warned Adam that eating the forbidden fruit would result in death (Gen 2). Romans 5:12 confirms that this happened after Adam’s fall, “Just as sin came into the world through one man, and death through sin, and so death spread to all men because all sinned.” Death (and the accompanying pain and suffering) came as a result of that first sin and our continued sin. Pain, suffering, and death—in and of themselves—are not good.

2. God uses suffering for good.

Thankfully, Romans 8 tells us “That for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose.” God never tells us our pain is good, but he uses pain to work for our good in his miraculous and mysterious way.

One of the ways God uses pain is to wake us up and bring up to himself. Our tendency in times of trial may be to run away from God, become angry with God, or idolize worldly comfort. Charles Spurgeon said it well when he encouraged us to look to God in our pain. He is attributed with saying, “I have learned to kiss the wave that throws me against the Rock of Ages.” We need to realize that God is in control over all our circumstances . . . and he is good. We need to open our eyes in our pain and see that our circumstances are taking us right to God.

3. We can’t always see what God is doing in our pain.

Augustine wrote of God and our circumstances, “If you understand, it is not God you understand.” We can hardly scratch the surface of the intentionality, creativity, and wisdom of God’s handiwork. Who can give him counsel or criticize his work? Proverbs 16:4 says, “The Lord has made everything for its purpose.” We can trust that God is always doing more than we can fathom.

We need to realize that God is in control over all our circumstances . . . and he is good.

4. God uses suffering to mature us in Christ.

James 1 says, “Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness. And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing.” Trials can be counted as joy because God is persevering our faith. He is making us more like Christ, and that is always gain.

5. Persevering through suffering allows us to comfort others who suffer.

God brings us through suffering so we can comfort others who are suffering. 2 Corinthians 1:3-4 says, “Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God.” The best burden-bearers are the ones who’ve needed someone to carry their burdens in the past.

6. Suffering opens up ministry opportunities you’ve never dreamed of.

Growing up with a healthy body I never knew one day my life and ministry would include encouraging the hurting and helping those who care for the hurting. I am in constant pain—each day I feel burning sensations and sharp pains in both of my arms. I can’t put on my seatbelt, open a bottle of water, button my shirt, or shake hands with my friends. In the past couple of years I have begun to feel similar symptoms starting in my legs. Some days the pain is agonizing. Most nights I struggle to sleep. Depression has engulfed me on more than one occasion.

And yet! God’s grace is seen in the bright rays of light that shine through opportunities he has given me to encourage others. He has granted me grace to pastor out of weakness and witness to others about his unrelenting love. I never would have chosen or dreamed of a ministry like this—the Lord has done marvelous things.

7. God moves through weakness and suffering and not in spite of it.

Christianity teaches that the goal is not to eliminate pain and weakness (in this life), but for God to work in and through you in your pain. Paul had a thorn in his flesh and asked God multiple times but it remained. One could wonder how amazing Paul’s ministry would be if Paul didn’t have his thorn. But God didn’t use Paul despite his thorn, but through his thorn. God moves not in spite of our suffering, but through our suffering. Weakness is God’s way of moving in this world.

8. Our earthly perspective on the duration of suffering is very different from God’s.

Noah worked on an ark and waited for a flood. Abraham waited for a child with Sarah for years. Joseph was in prison for years. Moses wandered in the desert wilderness for 40 years. Hannah wept continually for a child. David fled from a wicked king for 13 years in the desert. Jeremiah “the weeping prophet” preached and saw no fruit for several decades. Paul faced imprisonment one after another. 2 Corinthians 4:17 gives us a healthy perspective on persevering in trials, “For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison.”

9. Suffering can propel us into community.

My suffering has caused me to depend on the believing community for help, service, encouragement, and prayer. Though seeking help is humbling, it has an added bonus of friendship. I think of all the rides my friends Chris and Scott have given me over the years; I think of Glen’s encouragement; I think of John’s phone calls from halfway around the world and Darren and Kieron’s text messages. When we resist the urge to isolate ourselves God blesses us with sweet fellowship.

10. Christianity has the only solution to suffering.

All other religions have insufficient means of coping with and resolving pain and suffering. Some present plans of escape from the reality of pain. Some teach ways to placate the gods. Some tout karmic philosophies. Some focus on working for paradise—a place with no pain and unbounded pleasure.

But only Christianity provides true hope for the hurting. Suffering and death is inevitable for all of us but we can have hope because one has gone before us in death. Jesus Christ, truly God and truly man, lived a sinless life in our place. He faced various temptations and trials—betrayal by those closest to him, mockery, emotional anguish, physical agony, and most of all, judgment by God the Father.

When Jesus hung on the cross bearing the weight of his people’s sins, he not only faced the worst earthly death imaginable (reserved for only the worst criminals), he faced the overflowing cup of God’s wrath. But the story doesn’t end there with the death of Jesus.

Three days later he walked out of his tomb; Jesus had risen from the dead. Christ’s resurrection means that our pain and our trials and even our death are not the end of the story.

Dave Furman (ThM, Dallas Theological Seminary) serves as the senior pastor of Redeemer Church of Dubai in the United Arab Emirates, which he planted in 2010. Dave and his wife, Gloria, have four children.

Article originally posted on Crossway.org:  https://www.crossway.org/articles/10-things-you-should-know-about-suffering/

The Moment of Truth: Its Reality

The Moment of Truth: Its Reality

FROM Steven Lawson 

During the trial of Jesus, Pontius Pilate asked a question that has resounded through the ages: “What is truth?” That is the key question for today, when the idea of absolute truth is increasingly and soundly rejected in our culture. To help us understand what’s at stake, we’re examining the conversation between Jesus and Pilate in John 18. In the first post, we looked at the rejection of God’s truth as that which lies behind all sorts of evil in society today. This post will look at the reality of truth. Let us look at our passage again:

Jesus answered, “My kingdom is not of this world. If My kingdom were of this world, then My servants would be fighting so that I would not be handed over to the Jews; but as it is, My kingdom is not of this realm.” Therefore Pilate said to Him, “So You are a king?” Jesus answered, “You say correctly that I am a king. For this I have been born, and for this I have come into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone who is of the truth hears My voice.” Pilate said to Him, “What is truth?” (John 18:36–38a)

Jesus says, “For this I have been born and for this I have come into the world.” Here, in part, is the reason for the incarnation. Ultimately, the reason for the incarnation is the cross upon which Christ died. But He also came to bear witness to the truth, to testify, to teach, to declare, to assert, to affirm the truth. Jesus said, “I am the way, the truth, and the life” (John 14:6). In that statement, Jesus claims to have a monopoly on the truth. He is the truth. There is no truth outside of the Lord Jesus Christ. And there is no way to be on the way except to believe the truth, and there is no way to have the life except to receive the truth. What is truth? In one word, truth is reality. Truth is the way things really are. Truth is not how things may appear to be. Truth is not what we want things to be. Truth is not what popular opinion polls say things are. Truth is the way things really are. So let us look at a few characteristics that help distinguish and define the truth.

Truth Is Divine

Truth does not come from this world. It does not arise from society and culture. Rather, truth comes down from above. It comes from God, who is truth and who reveals His truth to us. Truth is the self-disclosure of God’s own being and God’s own nature. God is the author of all truth because God is the truth. All things are measured by God Himself—by Himself—to determine what is in conformity with truth and what is non-truth. God is the final judge of all truth. Romans 3:4 says, “Let God be found true, though every man be found a liar.”

Truth Is Absolute

Truth is sovereign. Truth reigns over all. Truth is the definitive standard by which everything is measured. Truth is never relative. It is never arbitrary. It is never conditional. Everything outside the truth is a lie. Jesus said of the religious leaders of that day and those who followed them: “You are of your father the devil, and you want to do the desires of your father. He was a murderer from the beginning, and does not stand in the truth because there is no truth in him. Whenever he speaks a lie, he speaks from his own nature, for he is a liar and the father of lies.” (John 8:44). Ultimately, there are only two fathers and two families in the world. There is God the Father, and all those who are of God are in His family, and they hear the truth. And there are those who are of their father the devil, and they hear the lies of Satan.

Truth Is Objective

Truth is propositional. Truth is conveyed in clearly defined words—and words that have a definite meaning. Truth is black and white. Truth is narrowly defined by God’s Word. Truth is rational. Truth is not subjective. Truth is fact; it is not feeling. Truth is contained in the written Word of God. Psalm 119:160 says, “Your word is truth.” Jesus said the same thing in John 17:17. Truth is found in specific words with specific meaning in the inspired, inerrant, infallible Word of the living God.

Truth Is Singular

As Jesus represents the truth here in John 18, He speaks of the truth. When He says “the truth,” not only is He stating that it is objective and authoritative, but He is saying that it is singular. All truth from the mind of God fits perfectly together, and there is never any contradiction. What God says to one generation is true for every generation. The Bible speaks with one voice. It sets forth one plan of salvation, makes one diagnosis of the problem of the human condition, presents one history of redemption, and offers one Savior. All of the sixty-six books of the Bible hang together. If you pull a thread in Genesis, your Bible will crinkle in Revelation. Though there are forty-plus authors, writing over a period of sixteen hundred years, there is one primary Author who used secondary authors to record what is in this book—it is the infallible truth of God.

Truth Is Immutable

Truth never changes. What was true in the Garden of Eden is true throughout the Old Testament, is true in the times of Christ, is true in the expansion of the church, is true down through the centuries, and it is true today because God never changes. He is “the same yesterday and today and forever” (Heb. 13:8). It is this eternal, immutable, unchanging God who speaks truth, and when God speaks truth, it flows from his own nature and what God says never changes. His Word “is settled in the heavens” (Ps. 119:89), and the “the word of our God will stand forever” (Isa. 40:8). The truth is always the same from generation to generation. Society may try to redefine morality, culture may try to reclassify right and wrong, but truth never changes.

Truth Is Authoritative

When the truth speaks, God speaks. John Calvin used to say, quoting Augustine, that when the Bible speaks, God speaks. His written Word is authoritative. It makes demands upon our lives. Truth is never just interesting. Truth is never intended to merely provoke our curiosity. No, truth is assertive. Truth has the right to make demands upon our lives because it is the truth of God. Truth possesses the right to rule our lives.

Truth Is Powerful

Truth alone convicts. The Word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, able to pierce the division of soul and spirit and to expose the innermost thoughts of man. Every other statement just lies on the surface. Only truth can bore down and penetrate into the very heart of a person, exposing their hearts before God and allowing them to see themselves as God sees them. Truth saves. There is in truth the very germ of life. And when that seed of truth is received into the heart by faith, it germinates by sovereign regeneration, and there is life. We have been “born again not of seed which is perishable but imperishable, that is, through the living and enduring word of God” (1 Peter 1:23). Truth sanctifies. It conforms us into the image of Christ. Truth encourages. Truth comforts.

Truth Is Determinative

Your eternal destiny is determined by the truth. Your relationship to the truth will determine where you will spend all eternity. Your relationship to the truth will determine whether you are in heaven or in hell forever. Your relationship to the truth will chart the course of your life in this world. Your relationship to the truth will define your family. It will direct your business. It will be a lamp unto your feet and a light unto your path. Your entire life is marked by the truth. Everything that does not measure with the truth is a façade. Only once the truth has spoken may we understand what true reality is.

This is the reality of the truth. In our next blog post, we will consider the reception of the truth.

Article originally posted on Ligoneer Ministries:  https://www.ligonier.org/blog/moment-truth-its-reality/

How To Face the Death of Someone You Love

Excerpt from "Facing the Death of Someone You Love"

by Elisabeth Elliot

 

The Reality and Finality of Death

We’ve all experienced the desolation of being left in one way or another. And sooner or later, many of us experience the greatest desolation of all: he or she is gone. The one who made life what it was for us—who was, in fact, our life.

And we were not ready. Not really prepared at all. We felt, when the fact stared us in the face, “No. Not yet.” For however bravely we may have looked at the possibilities (if we had any warning at all), however calmly we may have talked about them with the one who was about to die, we are caught short. If we had another week, perhaps, to brace ourselves . . . a few more days to say what we wanted to say, to do or undo some things, wouldn’t it have been better, easier?

But silent, swift, and implacable the Scythe has swept by, and he is gone, and we are left. Yet, most strangely, that stunning snatching away has changed nothing very much. The mail comes, the phone rings, Wednesday gives way to Thursday and this week to next week, and you have to keep getting up in the morning (“Life must go on, I forget just why,” wrote Edna St. Vincent Millay) and combing your hair (for whom, now?), eating breakfast (remember to get out only one egg now, not three), and making the bed (who cares?). You have to meet people who most fervently wish they could pass by on the other side so as not to have to think of something to say. You resist the temptation, when they say he’s “passed away,” to say “No, he’s dead, you know.”

After a few months you’ve learned those initial lessons. You begin to say “I” instead of “we” and people have sent their cards and flowers and said the things they ought to say and their lives are going on and so, astonishingly, is yours and you’ve “adjusted” to some of the differences—as if that little mechanical word, a mere tinkering with your routines and emotions, covers the ascent from the pit.

From Death to Life, Every Time

I speak of the “ascent.” I am convinced that every death, of whatever kind, through which we are called to go must lead to a resurrection. This is the core of Christian faith. Death is the end of every life and leads to resurrection, the beginning of every new one. It is a progression, a proper progression, the way things were meant to be, the necessary means of ongoing life. But the death of the beloved means, in a different but perhaps equally fearsome way, a going through the valley of the shadow.

I can think of six simple things that have helped me through this valley and that help me now.

1. Be Still and Know

First, I try to be still and know that he is God. That advice comes from Psalm 46, which begins by describing the sort of trouble from which God is our refuge—the earth’s changing, or “giving way” as the Jerusalem Bible puts it, the mountains shaking, the waters roaring and foaming, nations raging, kingdoms tottering, the earth melting. None of these cataclysms seem an exaggeration of what happens when somebody dies. The things that seemed most dependable have given way altogether. The whole world has a different look and you find it hard to get your bearings. But in both psalms we are reminded of one rock-solid fact that nothing can change: Thou art with me. The Lord of hosts is with us; the God of Jacob is our refuge. We feel that we are alone, yet we are not alone. Not for one moment has He left us alone. He makes wars cease, breaks bows, shatters spears, burns chariots (breaks hearts, shatters lives?), but in the midst of all this hullabaloo we are commanded, “Be still.” Be still and know.

2. Give Thanks

The second thing I try to do is to give thanks. I can thank him that he is still in charge, in the face of life’s worst terrors, and that “this slight momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen” (2 Cor. 4:17–18). The things unseen are standing solidly (yes, solidly, incredible as it seems) against things seen (the fact of death, my own loneliness, this empty room). And I am lifted up by the promise of that “weight” of glory, so far greater than the weight of sorrow that at times seems to grind me like a millstone. This promise enables me to give thanks.

And I am lifted up by the promise of that “weight” of glory, so far greater than the weight of sorrow that at times seems to grind me like a millstone.

3. Refuse Self-Pity

Then I try to refuse self-pity. I know of nothing more paralyzing, more deadly, than self-pity. It is a death that has no resurrection, a sinkhole from which no rescuing hand can drag you because you have chosen to sink. But it must be refused. In order to refuse it, of course, one must recognize it for what it is. It is one thing to call a spade a spade, to acknowledge that this thing is indeed suffering. It’s no use telling yourself it’s nothing. But it’s another thing to regard one’s own suffering as uncommon, or disproportionate, or undeserved. We are all under the God’s mercy, and Christ knows the precise weight and proportion of our sufferings—he bore them. He carried our sorrows. "He suffered," wrote George Macdonald, "not that we might not suffer, but that our sufferings might be like his."

4. Accept Loneliness

The next thing to do is to accept my loneliness. When God takes a loved person from my life it is in order to call me, in a new way, to himself. It is therefore a vocation. It is in this sphere, for now anyway, that I am to learn of him. Every stage on the pilgrimage is a chance to know him, to be brought to him. Loneliness is a stage (and, thank God, only a stage) when we are terribly aware of our own helplessness. It “opens the gates of my soul,” wrote Katherine Mansfield, “and lets the wild beasts stream howling through.” We may accept this, thankful that it brings us to the very present help.

5. Offer It to God

The acceptance of loneliness can be followed immediately by the offering of it up to God. Something mysterious and miraculous transpires as soon as something is held up in our hands as a gift. He takes it from us, as Jesus took the little lunch when five thousand people were hungry. He gives thanks for it and then, breaking it, transforms it for the good of others. Loneliness looks pretty paltry as a gift to offer to God—but then, when you come to think of it, so does anything else we might offer. It needs transforming. Others looking at it would say exactly what the disciples said, “What’s the good of that with such a crowd?” But it was none of their business what use the Son of God would make of it. And it is none of ours—it’s ours only to give it.

6. Be a Help to Others

The last of the helps I have found is to do something for somebody else. There is nothing like definite, overt action to overcome the inertia of grief. That is what we need in a time of crisis. Most of us have someone who needs us. If we haven’t, we can find someone. Instead of praying only for the strength we ourselves need to survive, this day or this hour, how about praying for some to give away? How about trusting God to fulfill his own promise, “My power is made perfect in weakness” (2 Cor. 12:9)? Where else is his power more perfectly manifested than in a human being who, well knowing his own weakness, lays hold by faith on the strong Son of God, Immortal Love?

It is here that a great spiritual principle goes into operation. Isaiah 58:10–12 says, “If you pour yourself out for the hungry and satisfy the desire of the afflicted, then shall your light rise in the darkness and your gloom be as the noonday. And the Lord will guide you continually and satisfy your desire in scorched places, and make your bones strong; and you shall be like a watered garden, like a spring of water, whose waters do not fail, and . . . you shall be called the repairer of the breach, the restorer of streets to dwell in.”

The condition on which all these wonderful gifts (light, guidance, satisfaction, strength, refreshment to others) rests is an unexpected one—unexpected, that is, if we are accustomed to think in material instead of in spiritual terms. The condition is not that one solve his own problems first. He need not “get it together.” The condition is simply “if you pour yourself out.”

Perhaps it is peace, of all God’s earthly gifts, that in our extremity we long for most. A priest told me of a terminally ill woman who asked him each time he came to visit only to pray, “The peace of God which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus” (Phil. 4:7).

The Hope of Everlasting Life

There they are—six things that, if done in faith, can be the way to resurrection: be still and know, give thanks, refuse self-pity, accept the loneliness, offer it to God, turn your energies toward the satisfaction, not of your own needs, but of others'. And there will be no calculating the extent to which:

From the ground there blossoms red
Life that shall endless be.

This article is adapted from the tract "Facing the Death of Someone You Love" by Elisabeth Elliot.

Enough is Enough

Article by Jay Younts, Shepherds Press

Ephesians 4:31 & 32 are seldom used as parenting directives. This is unfortunate. There is a powerful dynamic of grace here to help shepherd your children towards Christ. Read these words slowly:

“Get rid of all bitterness, rage and anger, brawling and slander, along with every form of malice. Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you.”

Because of the gospel grace shown to you, Paul is directing you to rid your thoughts and your speech of the angry words of relational combat. The deceitfulness of our flesh entices us to justify our anger. So when a child, a teenager, a spouse, or a friend wrongs or hurts you, you feel totally justified in letting them “have it.” We accommodate our outrage by thinking, “I know I shouldn’t be angry, but sometimes you just have to say enough is enough.”

This sort of language and rationalization will receive a hearty Amen from the Satanic cheering section and your wounded flesh. We think we have been strong, when in fact we have taken the coward’s way out and indulged in capitulation to methods of the enemy. We do what seems right at the moment.

Parents, God calls you to be shepherds, not enforcers. You may feel regret at your anger, but until you repent and embrace compassion and grace you will be aiding and abetting the enemy.

Letting someone “have it” is easy. It requires no courage, just pride, to let loose and give others what you believe they deserve. This is why grace is the most effective weapon in fighting for the spiritual lives of your children.

“Enough is enough” may feel like the right thing to say, but on what basis? How much is enough? Well, that is the problem. You are the one who makes the determination! What is enough today might not be enough tomorrow. Enough means when I think I have reached my limit. However, would you want God to say to you enough is enough?

Instead of reaching your limit, pray for grace to reach for God’s limit expressed in the fruit of his Spirit: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. The Holy Spirit will provide whatever grace is necessary to produce his fruit in your life.

Get rid the of anger that says. “enough is enough.” Paul calls you “to be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you.” Don’t capitulate! Don’t give your enemy something to cheer about. Join the war of love waged with the power of grace and led by your King, Jesus Christ!

Article originally posted on Shepherd's Press:  https://www.shepherdpress.com/enough-is-enough/

A Broken and Contrite Heart God Will Not Despise Psalms: Thinking and Feeling with God

Article by John Piper, Desiring God

Today our focus is on Psalm 51 and how to be crushed with guilt well. I hope that you are detecting a pattern. What makes a person a Christian is not that he doesn’t get discouraged, and it’s not that he doesn’t sin and feel miserable about it. What makes a person a Christian is the connection that he has with Jesus Christ that shapes how he thinks and feels about his discouragement and his sin and guilt.

Crushed with Guilt Well

The Psalms were the main songbook of the early church, and they were designed by God to awaken and express and shape the thoughts and feelings of Jesus’ disciples. We learn from the Psalms how to think about discouragement and guilt, and we learn from the Psalms how to feel in times of discouragement and in times of horrible regret. The Psalms show us how to be discouraged well and how to regret well.

My prayer is that you will form the habit of living in the Psalms so much that the world of your thinking and the world of your feeling will be transformed into full-blooded biblical thinking and biblical feeling.

David’s Downward Spiral of Sin

Psalm 51 is one of the few psalms that are pinpointed as to their historical origin. The heading of the psalm goes like this: “To the choirmaster. A Psalm of David, when Nathan the prophet went to him, after he had gone in to

Bathsheba.” What happened with Bathsheba is well known. Here it is in crisp biblical words from 2 Samuel 11:2–5 :

It happened, late one afternoon, when David arose from his couch and was walking on the roof of the king’s house, that he saw from the roof a woman bathing; and the woman was very beautiful. And David sent and inquired about the woman. And one said, “Is not this Bathsheba, the daughter of Eliam, the wife of Uriah the Hittite?” So David sent messengers and took her, and she came to him, and he lay with her. . . . Then she returned to her house. And the woman conceived, and she sent and told David, “I am pregnant.”

He tried to cover his sin by bringing her husband Uriah home from battle so Uriah could lie with her and think it was his baby. Uriah was too noble to go in to his wife while his comrades were in battle. So David arranged to have him killed so that he could quickly marry Bathsheba and cover the sin that way.

“The Psalms were designed by God to awaken and express and shape the thoughts and feelings of Jesus’s disciples.”

In one of the most understated sentences of the Bible, 2 Samuel 11 ends with these words: “The thing that David had done displeased the Lord” ( 2 Samuel 11:27 ). So God sent the prophet Nathan to David with a parable that entices David to pronounce his own condemnation. Then Nathan says, “You are the man!” and asks, “Why have you despised the word of the Lord?” David breaks and confesses, “I have sinned against the Lord.” Then Nathan says,

astonishingly, “The Lord also has put away your sin; you shall not die. Nevertheless, because by this deed you have utterly scorned the Lord, the child who is born to you shall die” ( 2 Samuel 12:7–15 ).

“The Lord Has Put Away Your Sin”

This is outrageous. Uriah is dead. Bathsheba is raped. The baby will die. And Nathan says, “The Lord has put away your sin.” Just like that? David committed adultery. He ordered murder. He lied. He “despised the word of the Lord.” He “scorned God.” And the Lord “put away [his] sin” ( 2 Samuel 12:13 ). What kind of a righteous judge is God? You don’t just pass over rape and murder and lying. Righteous judges don’t do that. I was sharing the gospel with four guys on the street last week, and nothing I said could persuade them that a child molester could be forgiven.

I resonate with their skepticism. And I would be outraged at God’s behavior here — except for one thing. The apostle Paul shared my outrage and explained how God could be both righteous and the one who justifies murderers and rapists and liars and, yes, even child molesters.

God’s Outrageous “Passing Over”

Here is what Paul said in Romans 3:25–26 . This is one of the most important sentences in the Bible for understanding how Christ relates to the Psalms — and to the Old Testament in general:

God put [Christ] forward as a propitiation by his blood, to be received by faith. This was to show God’s righteousness, because in his divine forbearance he had passed over former sins [that’s exactly what 2 Samuel 12:13 says God did — he passed over David’s sin]. It was to show his righteousness at the present time, so that he might be just and the justifier of the one who has faith in Jesus.

In other words, the outrage that we feel when God seems to simply pass over David’s sin would be good outrage if God were simply sweeping David’s sin under the rug. He is not. God sees from the time of David down the centuries to the death of his Son, Jesus Christ, who would die in David’s place, so that David’s faith in God’s mercy and God’s future redeeming work unites David with Christ. And in God’s all-knowing mind, David’s sins are counted as Christ’s sins and Christ’s righteousness is counted as his righteousness, and God justly passes over David’s sin. The death of the Son of God is outrageous enough, and the glory of God that it upholds is great enough, that God is vindicated in passing over David’s adultery and murder and lying.

Daily Appropriating Forgiveness

Now that is the objective reality of how David is forgiven for his sin and justified in the presence of God. But what Psalm 51 describes is what David felt and thought as he laid hold on God’s mercy. Some might say that Christians after the death of Jesus do not pray and confess this way. They should not think and feel this way. I don’t think that’s right.

Jesus, once for all, by his life and death, purchased our forgiveness and provided our righteousness. We can add nothing to the purchase or the provision. We share in the forgiveness and the righteousness by faith alone. But in view of the holiness of God and the evil of sin, it is fitting that we appropriate and apply what he bought for us by prayer and confession every day. “Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors” ( Matthew 6:11–12 ). Daily request for bread, because he has promised to meet every need; daily prayer appropriation of forgiveness, because it is fully purchased and secured for us by the death of Jesus.

David’s Responses to His Sin

Psalm 51 is the way God’s people think and feel about the horrors of their own sin. This is a psalm about how be crushed for our sin well. I will try to guide you through four of David’s responses to his sin.

1. He Turns to God

First, he turns to his only hope, the mercy and love of God. Verse 1: “Have mercy on me, O God, according to your steadfast love; according to your abundant mercy blot out my transgressions.” Three times: “Have mercy,” “according to your steadfast love,” and “according to your abundant mercy.” This is what God had promised in Exodus 34:6–7 : “The Lord, the Lord, a God merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness, keeping steadfast love for thousands, forgiving iniquity and transgression and sin, but who will by no means clear the guilty.”

David knew that there were guilty who would not be forgiven. And there were guilty who by some mysterious work of redemption would not be counted as guilty, but would be forgiven. Psalm 51 is his way of laying hold on that mystery of mercy.

“Being a Christian means being broken and contrite. They’re the flavor of Christian joy, praise, and witness.”

We know more of the mystery of this redemption than David did. We know Christ. But we lay hold of the mercy in the same way he did. The first thing he does is turn helpless to the mercy and love of God. Today that means turning helpless to Christ.

2. He Prays for Cleansing

Second, he prays for cleansing from his sin. Verse 2: “Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin.” Verse 7: “Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean; wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.” Hyssop was the branch used by the priests to sprinkle blood on a house that had a disease in it to declare it clean ( Leviticus 14:51 ). David is crying out to God as his ultimate priest that he would forgive him and count him clean from his sin.

It is fitting that Christians ask God to do this ( 1 John 1:7–9 ). Christ has purchased our forgiveness. He has paid the full price for it. That does not replace our asking. It is the basis for our asking. It is the reason we are confident that the answer will be yes. So first David looks helplessly to the mercy of God. And second he prays that, in this mercy, God would forgive him and make him clean.

3. He Confesses the Seriousness of His Sin

Third, David confesses at least five ways that his sin is extremely serious.

He says that he can’t get the sin out of his mind.

It is blazoned on his conscience. Verse 3: “For I know my transgressions, and my sin is ever before me.” Ever before him. The tape keeps playing. And he can’t stop it.

He says that the exceeding sinfulness of his sin is that it is only against God.

Nathan had said David despised God and scorned his word. So David says in verse 4: “Against you, you only, have I sinned and done what is evil in your sight.” This doesn’t mean Bathsheba and Uriah and the baby weren’t hurt. It means that what makes sin to be sin is that it is against God. Hurting man is bad. It is horribly bad. But that’s not the horror of sin. Sin is an attack on God — a belittling of God. David admits this in striking terms: “Against you, you only, have I sinned.”

David vindicates God, not himself.

There is no self-justification. No defense. No escape. Verse 4: “. . . so that you may be justified in your words and blameless in your judgment.” God is

justified. God is blameless. If God casts David into hell, God will be innocent. This is radical God-centered repentance. This is the way saved people think and feel. God would be just to damn me. And that I am still breathing is sheer mercy. And that I am forgiven is sheer blood-bought mercy. David vindicates the righteousness of God, not himself.

David intensifies his guilt by drawing attention to his inborn corruption.

Verse 5: “Behold, I was brought forth in iniquity, and in sin did my mother conceive me.” Some people use their inborn or inbred corruption to diminish their personal guilt. David does the opposite. For him the fact that he committed adultery and murdered and lied are expressions of something worse: He is by nature that way. If God does not rescue him, he will do more and more evil.

David admits that he sinned not just against external law but against God’s merciful light in his heart.

Verse 6: “Behold, you delight in truth in the inward being, and you teach me wisdom in the secret heart.” God had been his teacher. God had made him wise. David had done so many wise things. And then sin got the upper hand. And, for David, this made it all the worse. “I have been blessed with so much knowledge and so much wisdom. O how deep must be my depravity that it could sin against so much light.”

So in those five ways at least David joins the prophet Nathan and God in condemning his sin and confessing the depths of his corruption.

4. He Pleads for Renewal

Finally, after turning helpless to God’s mercy, and then praying for forgiveness and cleansing, and then confessing the depth and greatness of his sin and

corruption, David pleads for more than forgiveness. He pleads for renewal. He is passionately committed to being changed by God.

He pours out his heart for this change in at least six ways. I can only draw your attention to them. The main point is: Forgiven people are committed to being changed by God. The adulterer, the murderer, the liar, the child molester hate what they were and set their faces like flint to be changed by God.

He prays that God would confirm to him his election.

Verse 11: “Cast me not away from your presence, and take not your Holy Spirit from me.” I know some say that Christians who are elect and secure in the sovereign grace of God should not pray like that because it implies you can lose your salvation. I don’t think so.

“Jesus, once for all, by his life and death, purchased our forgiveness and provided our righteousness.”

When David or I pray, “Don’t cast me away, and don’t take your Spirit from me,” we mean: Don’t treat me as one who is not chosen. Don’t let me prove to be like one of those in Hebrews 6 who have only tasted the Holy Spirit. Don’t let me fall away and show that I was only drawn by the Spirit and not held by the Spirit. Confirm to me, O God, that I am your child and will never fall away.

He prays for a heart and a spirit that are new and right and firm.

“Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me” ( Psalms 51:10 ). The “right spirit” here is the established, firm, unwavering spirit. He wants to be done with the kind of instability that he has just experienced.

He prays for the joy of God’s salvation and for a spirit that is joyfully willing to follow God’s word and be generous with people rather than exploiting people.

Verse 8: “Let me hear joy and gladness; let the bones that you have broken rejoice.” Verse 12: “Restore to me the joy of your salvation, and uphold me with a willing spirit.”

Is it not astonishing that nowhere in this Psalm does he pray directly about sex? It all started with sex, leading to deceit, leading to murder. Or did it? I don’t think so. Sigmund Freud may think that all our hang-ups start with sex. But David (speaking for God) does not see things that way.

Sexual Sin: Symptom, Not Disease

Why isn’t he crying out for sexual restraint? Why isn’t he praying for men to hold him accountable? Why isn’t he praying for protected eyes and sex-free thoughts? The reason is that he knows that sexual sin is a symptom, not the disease. People give way to sexual sin because they don’t have the fullness of joy and gladness in Christ. Their spirits are not steadfast and firm and established. They waver. They are enticed, and they give way because God does not have the place in our feelings and thoughts that he should.

David knew this about himself. It’s true about us too. David is showing us, by the way he prays, what the real need is for those who sin sexually. Not a word in this psalm about sex. Instead: “Let me hear joy and gladness; let the bones that you have broken rejoice. . . . Restore to me the joy of your salvation, and uphold me with a willing, firm, established spirit.” This is profound wisdom for us.

He asked God to bring his joy to the overflow of praise.

Verse 15: “O Lord, open my lips, and my mouth will declare your praise.” Praise is what joy in God does when obstacles are taken out of the way. That is what he is praying for: O God, overcome everything in my life that keeps my heart dull and my mouth shut when they ought to be praising. Make my joy irrepressible.

He asks that the upshot of all this will be a life of effective evangelism.

Verse 13: “Then I will teach transgressors your ways, and sinners will return to you.” David is not content to be forgiven. He is not content to be clean. He is not content to be elect. He is not content to have a right spirit. He is not content to be joyful in God by himself. He will not be content until his broken life serves the healing of others. “Then I will teach transgressors your ways, and sinners will return to you.” Which brings us to the last point.

Under all this, David has discovered that God has crushed him (verse 8) in love, and that a broken and contrite heart is the mark of all God’s children.

Verse 17: “The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise.”

Brokenhearted Joy

This is foundational to everything. Being a Christian means being broken and contrite. Don’t make the mistake of thinking you get beyond this in this life. It marks the life of God’s happy children till they die. We are broken and contrite all the way home — unless sin gets the proud upper hand. Being broken and contrite is not against joy and praise and witness. It’s the flavor of Christian joy and praise and witness. I close with the words of Jonathan Edwards who said it better than I can:

All gracious affections [feelings, emotions] that are a sweet [aroma] to Christ . . . are brokenhearted affections. A truly Christian love, either to God or men, is a humble brokenhearted love. The desires of the saints, however earnest, are humble desires: their hope is a humble hope; and their joy, even when it is unspeakable, and full of glory, is a humble brokenhearted joy. . . . (Religious Affections [New Haven: Yale University Press, 1959], pp. 339f.)