Walking Saints Home

The renewed call to gospel-centered discipleship in the last two decades has been extremely helpful in clarifying the purpose of ministry. It has helped center the church on Jesus and the commission he gave us to advance his kingdom. It has helped us return to our basic ministry to make disciples of all nations. Within this discussion, however, we often forget to emphasize important aspects of pastoral ministry: we miss the calling to walk with men and women to the end of their earthly lives.

Much of the writing and teaching on discipleship seems to focus on those who are younger and healthier. When this is the case, we overlook the great privilege of shepherding those who are almost home. When we enter into a church and seek to disciple those in our care, we must think about discipling every generation.

We put an emphasis on children’s ministry, on youth and young adults, and on multiplying disciples through small groups or other ministries. But we must not forget those who have helped build our churches.

REMEMBERING OUR ELDERS

In many established churches, there is a generation of men and women who have given their lives to show the love of Jesus. They have given generously to reach their community, they have been faithful throughout the years. They need pastors who will love them well and point them to their Savior. Our discipleship of older saints must reach into homes, hospital rooms, nursing facilities, and hospice care.

To be the church God has called us to be, we should not ignore the needs of older disciples in favor of making new disciples. Gospel-centered discipleship does both, and honors those who have made it possible for us to reach our community for Christ. There is a great need for pastors to disciple all who are in our care. We must disciple our people through every stage of their lives, and this includes the end.

How do we disciple men and women in their last days—or even moments—on earth? God gives pastors three specific ministries to help his people finish well.

PRESENCE: THE MINISTRY OF SHOWING UP

There is so much we cannot do for those who are suffering and dying, but we can be there. We can show up. This sounds simplistic, but it is essential to being the pastor God has called us to be and loving those he has entrusted to our care.

We represent the God of all comfort when we enter into the hospital or hospice room. Paul, in 2 Corinthians 1:4, tells us God “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.”

Simply being there in the room, holding their hand, sitting in silence and lament, and rejoicing in the hope of eternal life can be a great comfort for those who are near the end. Our wider culture wants to ignore and hide the dying, but the church cannot do this.

God has called us to shepherd his people in these last moments. Our presence reminds those we visit of God’s presence. It reminds them he is always there and will never leave nor forsake them.

God doesn’t call us to have all the answers. He calls us to be present. God doesn’t call us to have the right thing to say. He calls us to show up and to show his love.

PRAYER: OUR GREATEST HELP

The work of discipleship can never be separated from the work of prayer. There is no more important work we can undertake. Again, in 2 Corinthians 1, Paul says in verse 11, “You must also help us by prayer, so that many will give thanks on our behalf for the blessing granted us through the prayers of many.”

Prayer is the greatest help we can give. It is the beginning of the pastor’s work. Prayer is where we fight for and with our people. It is where we remember they belong to God. And it is where discipleship must begin and end.

As we pray with and for those walking through the valley of the shadow of death, we remind them of the presence and power of God.

Prayer centers hearts back on the will of God and the glory of God even in the midst of great suffering, despair, and confusion. Prayer reminds us of the sovereignty of God and the goodness of God to hear the cries of his people. Prayer can help the hearts of those we pastor remember the one who knows all of their days, and who will be with them through the end of their life here and into their new life forever in his presence.

Sometimes we act as if praying is something we do when we run out of every other option. The truth is, prayer is the most important thing we do to help those we pastor finish well.

PROCLAMATION: SHARING HOPE

It is not our responsibility as pastors to know every plan and purpose of God. It is not our job to know exactly why God allows men and women to suffer through their afflictions and trials. But it is our job to proclaim the hope of the Gospel.

As we pastor men and women towards the end of their lives, we must proclaim the hope of Jesus, the promises of God, and the good news of eternal redemption and restoration.

Read elderly and dying saints passages of Scripture like Psalm 23, Romans 8, John 10, 2 Corinthians 4, and Revelation 21. When you don’t have the words, read the Word.

Remind them of God’s faithfulness, care, and love. Remind them “He who began a good work in you will bring it to completion” (Phil. 1:6).

Our people need more than our opinions. They need the strong foundation of gospel hope that sustains us until glory. Proclaim the hope of faith in Jesus. Proclaim the light of the gospel of God.

WALKING SAINTS INTO GLORY

It is a privilege to walk with saints to the end of their life. There has been no greater honor in my nine years as a pastor than to be present in these last moments, to pray with and for these precious men and women, and to proclaim the only hope that sustains and lasts through the end of their earthly life.

Discipleship is not just for those who are young. Our calling is not just for those who can physically come to church. We are called to shepherd and to disciple all God has entrusted to us.

Pastors, we must think more clearly and compassionately about how we will love those who are near the end, and how we can help disciple them up to the moment they see Jesus. There is so much outside of our control in those moments, but what we can do—what we must do—is be present, pray, and proclaim the hope of the Gospel.

---

Zac Harrel is pastor of First Baptist Church in Gustine, TX. He is husband to Shandra and daddy to Evahlyn and Jameson. You can find him on Twitter @ZHarrel.

11 Articles You Shared Like Crazy

As we celebrate New Years, here's a look back at the articles you shared like crazy in 2018:

1. Lessons From a Prayer Warrior

Mike Phay says he's no prayer warrior. When you don’t know how to do something, you ask an expert. So that’s he did. Here's what Mike learned.

2. Start Planning Your Own Funeral

When's the last time you thought about death? According to the Bible, not recently enough. Wisdom is found in learning to number our days.

3. Is Hospitality Your Mentality?

If we love others, we’ll share not only our faith with them—but our lives as well.

4. ‘I Don’t Know How You Do It’: God’s Grace for Foster Parents

Fostering children can be overwhelming. It reminds foster parents of their own weakness. But in our weakness, we are reminded that Christ is strong.

5. What it Means to Invest in Eternity

We all have limited time to invest in our future, and Christians have a limited window to invest in eternity.

6. Discontent: Comparing What Is to What Could Have Been

We have never had higher expectations than we do right now. But what happens when life doesn't measure up?

7. An Ancient Solution to Digital Weariness

Our problems with devices would go away if we’d use them in moderation. But sometimes a hard reset with an ancient practice is also appropriate.

8. The Big God Behind Your ‘Small’ Ministry

It's easy to feel underwhelmed by our own ministry. But that's not how God sees what you're doing, no matter how small it seems.

9. Simplicity for the Sake of the Gospel

We’re searching for the simple life. But to what end? What is it we’re after? What will fill the void created by our new, simple lives?

10. The Saints: Ordinary Means for Extraordinary Ends

A funeral for an ordinary saint made me realize that even in our normalcy we're called to extraordinary work.

11. Sermons Aren’t Popcorn: Tips for Being a Good Listener to God’s Word

Do you treat sermons like entertainment? There's a way to listen to sermons that glorifies God and edifies you. Here are some tips to get you started.

---

Grayson Pope (M.A., Christian Studies) is a husband and father of three, and the Managing Web Editor at Gospel-Centered Discipleship. He serves as a writer and editor with Prison Fellowship. For more of Grayson’s writing check out his website, or follow him on Twitter.

Ego is the Enemy

Ego won't leave me alone. He lurks in the neglected corners of my heart. Out of the shadows, he whispers just loud enough to make sure he gets my attention. He’ll say things like, “You’re so good at ministry. Look at the scope of your leadership!" Or, "Your influence is growing. You're doing such a great job leading your team.”

TICKLING THE EARS

Ego likes to remind me of where I was a few years ago and how I’ve risen like a phoenix from the ashes in such a short time. He tells me my theology is solid and my leadership is gracious. He points out how helpful my preaching has been and how I’m just really hitting it out of the park. He tickles my ears by telling me exactly what I want to hear. Sometimes he doesn’t have to come up with his own material. He just reminds me of when so-and-so said this or that and then embellishes it to get me to think I’m really a big deal.

I like it when he does this, of course. Ego helps me feel valued, appreciated, successful, and important. I have a love-hate relationship with this little monster inside of me. The danger is that I enjoy having Ego around. I love the way he puffs me up but I hate that I believe him.

I know the scriptures speak of God hating the proud and how God will bring to nothing all those who raise themselves up against him. So I have to keep Ego in check. But doing so is difficult.

PILGRIMS' PRIDE

For the pilgrims who sung the Psalms of Ascent on their way towards the Holy Land, there could be a smug, self-congratulatory feeling upon reaching the temple in Jerusalem after the arduous journey. Arriving with the throngs to worship, feast, and celebrate could feel like a big deal. Like they had arrived in more than just the literal sense.

Much like those making the pilgrimage to Rome in Martin Luther’s day climbed the Sacred Steps to receive the plenary indulgences awaiting them at the top, the Hebrew pilgrims could bask in their own religious success. With their close friend Ego crouching in the corridors of their hearts, they could hear him whisper, “You did it! You’re so great. God must really love you now. Way to go!”

But pride has no place in worship. Worshiping God leaves no place for spiritual victory laps or trophy ceremonies. The final Psalm of Ascent puts Ego in his place and commands a way of living that shuts down the pilgrims' pride. The Psalmist declares,

“Now bless the Lord, all you servants of the Lord” (Ps. 134:1).

We get to the top, we feel the accomplishment of our spiritual journeys, and we hear, “Give glory to God! Praise him, you servant! Worship and exalt him in the holy place—not yourself!” We bless the Lord because, if we don't, we end up listening to Ego and blessing ourselves. That makes Ego the enemy, as one author recently put it.

EGO IS THE ENEMY

Ego is the enemy because he steals the spotlight intended for God and redirects our worship from the Lord to ourselves. This is why Jesus said, “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me" (Lk. 9:23). The cross crushes Ego.

Blessing God—not ourselves—must be the attitude and posture of our whole lives. The Psalms of Ascent end with a reminder that it God who got us to the top. Psalm 134 reminds us that though we have begun leaving the lives we knew and receiving the blessing of God, it is not a result of our own accomplishments.

God did it. So he receives the glory. And when he receives the glory, we receive the blessing: “May the Lord, Maker of heaven and earth, bless you from Zion.”

What a way to conclude one year and embrace a new one! Let's praise and exalt God for his grace in working through us in 2018. In the last year, you may have lost weight, read the whole Bible, purchased a home, or learned to forgive. But let's not forget that blessings like these come from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth. We stand firm in our faith because of God, not our own self-righteousness. We get to “Zion” because of the blood shed by his son, Jesus, whose righteousness is imputed to us, and whose Spirit works to transform us into his image.

So we give glory and thanks and honor and worship to God. And yet, he pours out more blessings, as we've learned here at Gospel-Centered Discipleship during the last year.

GCD'S BLESSINGS IN 2018

As we've seen, all our accomplishments are a grace from God, and so we here at GCD give thanks to God for his kindness to us. As we abide in him, he makes us prosper and bear fruit. He graciously gives us the bandwidth to write and communicate the goodness of his mercy and grace. Before 2018 draws to a close, we want to take a look back at everything God has done through our work over the last twelve months—not to stroke our Ego, but to glorify God.

In October, we held our first ever Writers' Intensive in Louisville to foster a live environment for Christian writers and editors to learn in community about producing good, true, and beautiful content. At the Intensive, we heard from authors Jonathan Dodson, Hannah Anderson, and Mike Cosper. Our aim in the year ahead is to bring events and training like this to more of you around the country.

This was a year of huge growth for our readership and community. In 2018, we published two books and saw our site traffic grow by 50% to an average of 20,000 page views per month. That's thanks to God's blessing, first and foremost, and to you, our faithful readers. Page views are great, but they're not everything. Around here, we pray for God to increase our traffic inasmuch as what we're publishing brings him glory. I believe our growth this year is the result of publishing God-glorifying articles like "The Big God Behind Your 'Small' Ministry," and "'I Don’t Know How You Do It': God’s Grace for Foster Parents," and books like Walk With Me: Learning to Love and Follow Jesus and That Word Above All Earthly Powers.

We publish books and articles to help make, mature, and multiply disciples of Jesus—not ourselves or anyone else. That makes Ego our enemy. We cannot magnify God and ourselves at the same time. We praise God for his grace in 2018 and look forward to another year of glorifying him.

---

Jeremy Writebol is the Executive Director of GCD. He is the husband of Stephanie and father of Allison and Ethan. He serves as the lead campus pastor of Woodside Bible Church in Plymouth, MI. He is also an author and contributor to several GCD Books including everPresent and Make, Mature, Multiply. He writes personally at jwritebol.net. You can read all of Jeremy’s articles for GCD here.

How Grace Enables Self-Control

Grace is instrumental in salvation. It also spurs us to righteous behavior. Scripture tells us that it is “the grace of God” that “teaches us to say ‘No’ to ungodliness and worldly passions, and to live self-controlled, upright and godly lives” (Tit. 2:11–12). The idea that grace teaches self-control can seem a bit surprising. After all, if I’m freely forgiven of my sins by the grace of God, why resist sin? If there’s always more forgiveness on tap, why strive after righteousness?

The apostle Paul anticipated this reaction—“Shall we go on sinning so that grace may increase?”—and immediately shot it down: “By no means!” he wrote. “We are those who have died to sin; how can we live in it any longer?” (Rom. 6:1–2) To Paul, the idea that we should keep sinning because of grace was silly, absurd, the equivalent of Bill Gates knocking off a 7-Eleven. Instead, forgiveness lays the groundwork for transformation.

THE POWERFUL PROSPECT OF FORGIVENESS

In high school I had a close friend who described himself as an atheist. When he told me he didn’t believe in God, I could only think of one biblical rejoinder: “The fool says in his heart ‘There is no God’” (Ps. 14:1). Since he was a lot stronger than me, and liked to fight, I kept the verse to myself.

I tried talking to him about my faith, but nothing seemed to get through to him. Nothing except for this: I described to him, as best I could, the experience of forgiveness. “There’s nothing like coming to God with all the bad things you’ve done and asking for Him to cleanse you,” I told him. “It’s like taking a shower after being dirty for a long time. You feel completely new, totally clean.”

He was silent.

“Hey, man. I don’t mean to preach at you,” I said.

“That doesn’t sound like preaching,” he replied looking off at something. “It doesn’t sound like preaching at all.”

I wasn’t much of an evangelist, but I got one thing right. There’s something powerful about the prospect of forgiveness, of being made clean. As the Presbyterian minister Henry Van Dyke said, “For love is but the heart’s immortal thirst to be completely known and all forgiven.” When you feel that forgiveness, the last thing you want to do is rush out and start sinning.

THE BEAUTY OF A BLANK SLATE

In 1 Corinthians 6, Paul gives a long list of “wrongdoers” who will not inherit the kingdom of God. The list includes some pretty despicable characters, including swindlers, drunks, thieves, and adulterers.

But before his readers could feel too superior, he added these words, “ . . . and that is what some of you were.” Those descriptions only applied to his readers in the past tense. Something had changed: “you were washed, you were sanctified” (6:11), Paul reminded them. In other words, because of the fact that they’d been forgiven, they had entered a whole new way of living.

The next verses unpack how “washed” people are to live, by “not [being] mastered by anything” and living free from sexual immorality. Holiness flows from forgiveness.

It’s a spiritual principle, and a psychological one. Researchers talk about the benefits of the “fresh start effect.” Basically it means that when we feel like we’ve been given a clean slate, our behavior improves.

That helps explain why people who use “temporal landmarks” like birthdays, the beginning of a new year, or even the beginning of the week to start pursuing a new goal make greater progress. They feel like they’ve been given a new start and they don’t want to mess it up. According to Francesca Gino, a behavioral scientist, “We feel more motivated and empowered to work hard toward reaching our goals when we feel like our past failures are behind us.”

That’s good news for Christians. We get the ultimate blank slate when we place our faith in Christ. Then we receive that blank slate over and over again. First when we come to Christ and receive a whole new life (2 Cor. 5:17), and then repeatedly as we repent of our sins and ask God for forgiveness (1 John 1:9).

FALSE STARTS AND FRESH STARTS

Unfortunately, we don’t always take advantage of this blank slate. Or at least I don’t. When I mess up, I’m reluctant to confess my sins and ask God for forgiveness. Not only that, but I start avoiding my Bible and stop praying. In order words, I start avoiding God (as if I could).

I realize this makes no sense. I know God loves me unconditionally. But because of my actions, suddenly I feel like we’re not on talking terms. This strange avoidance behavior is always a mistake. When I fail to confess my sins, I’m more likely to sin again. What’s one more sin, I think. I’m already messing up.

Researchers have a name for this phenomenon too. They call it the “What-The-Hell Effect.” Basically, it means that after messing up, we tend to mess up even more. It was coined by dieting researchers who noticed that when their subjects had even small indiscretions (a bite of ice cream or one slice of pizza) it was followed by a full-on binge. Psychologist Kelly McGonigal explains this thinking behind this behavior.

Giving in makes you feel bad about yourself, which motivates you to do something to feel better. And what’s the cheapest, fastest strategy for feeling better? Often the very thing you feel bad about. . . . It’s not the first giving-in that guarantees the bigger relapse. It’s the feelings of shame, guilt, loss of control and loss of hope that follow the first relapse.10

BREAK THE CIRCLE OF SIN

I’m convinced this dynamic plagues my spiritual life as well. When I sin, the shame and guilt drive me away from God. I feel bad about myself, and in a cruel irony, I engage in more of the sin that made me feel bad in the first place.

When I confess my sins, the circle stops. I feel like I’ve hit the refresh button on my spiritual life. Suddenly I’m motivated to resist sin and pursue holiness. Wallowing in my guilt merely makes me sin more. Confession gives me a fresh start and I don’t want to mess it up.

It can be natural to think that feeling really bad about yourself is the way to improve your behavior. But piling on guilt is never the answer. It’s to keep diving back into grace.

---

Taken from Your Future Self Will Thank You by Drew Dyck (©2019). Published by Moody Publishers. Used by permission.

Drew Dyck (M.A. in Theology) is an editor at Moody Publishers and the former managing editor of Leadership Journal. His work has been featured in USA Today, the Huffington Post, Christianity Today, and CNN.com. Drew is the author of Generation Ex-Christian and Yawning at Tigers. He lives with his wife Grace and their three children near Portland, Oregon. Connect with Drew at www.DrewDyck.com or follow him on Twitter @DrewDyck.

Are You Really Ready for Christmas?

Surely by now you’ve been asked, “Are you ready for Christmas?” By which we generally mean, “Do you have all the presents bought and wrapped, all the decorations hung, all the food bought, and all the other to-dos crossed off your list?” We know we need to be prepared for something—but what?

Most often, we assume we are to be ready for that magical moment of Christmas morning when we gather around the tree and distribute gifts to our loved ones.

Like me, you might find yourself asking, “Is that what it’s really about?” Your gut tells you you’re somehow missing the mark.

CHRISTMAS BEGINS AT AN ALTAR

Thankfully, Scripture gives us a clue as to how God wants us to prepare for Christmas. We need look no further than the surprising beginning of the Christmas story. We presume the opening scene to be of a Jewish man carefully accompanying his donkey-riding, full-term fiancée through a snowstorm to the Little Town of Bethlehem.

But the Christmas story actually begins about fifteen months earlier with an elderly, childless couple—not a couple waiting for the arrival of a baby, but a couple defined by waiting for a child, and welcoming none (see Luke 1:5-25).

Zechariah and his wife Elizabeth are descendants of Aaron, the first Jewish High Priest, and are described as “righteous before God, walking blamelessly in all the commandments and statutes of the Lord” (Luke 1:6). As a priest, Zechariah served regularly at the temple, a responsibility he’s fulfilling when an angel suddenly appears to him.

The location of this angelic appearance does not happen by chance. Gabriel could have appeared to him at home, while he was working in the field, or during a long journey. However, God intentionally chose to reveal his plan to Zechariah while he is in the temple, at the altar. God intentionally brought his first Christmas announcement in the place of worship, alerting us that this is a story about worship.

ISRAEL’S WORSHIP PROBLEM

Israel had a long history of cluttered altars. The people had often abandoned the God who redeemed them and made them his own special people. Such a great beginning makes it all the more tragic when their story consistently turns towards rebellion, rejection, and idolatry. They regularly turned their back on God and literally cluttered their altars with idols and false gods (e.g. 2 Chron. 33:4-5). They habitually adulterated their worship and kept God at bay by filling their lives and altars with other things.

When Zechariah the priest entered the temple to burn incense, he was, essentially, leading the nation in worship (Luke 1:10) and representing them before God. Even though he is described as righteous and blameless, he belongs to a people who have constantly been mired in idolatry, confusion, and waywardness. They are turned away from God, in conflict with each other, ignorant of God’s ways, and walking in disobedience.

Israel’s worship problem is the context of the angel Gabriel’s announcement.

WE HAVE A WORSHIP PROBLEM, TOO

Like the Israelites of old, we too have a worship problem. And Jesus has come to solve it. Thus the angel Gabriel’s announcement to Zechariah, declaring the work that his future son, John the Baptist will accomplish:

“And he will turn many of the children of Israel to the Lord their God, and he will go before him in the spirit and power of Elijah, to turn the hearts of the fathers to the children, and the disobedient to the wisdom of the just, to make ready for the Lord a people prepared” (Luke 1:16-17).

John’s job will be to go before Jesus and bring about a threefold turning. The first turning was repentance, turning “many of the children of Israel to the Lord their God,” away from the idols that clutter their altars. The second turning was reconciliation, turning “the hearts of fathers to their children.” When God makes people right with himself, he also does the work of making them right with one another. The third turning was transformation, turning “the disobedient to the wisdom of the just.”

The Bible regularly juxtaposes the wise and the foolish. The wise are just, righteous, and obedient, while the foolish are unjust, wicked, and disobedient. God is in the business of making foolish men wise, and disobedient men just (see Jer. 31:33-4; 32:36-41; Ezek. 36:26-27).

WHAT WE’RE PREPARING FOR

Ultimately, John’s job would be “to make ready for the Lord a people prepared” (Luke 1:17). But prepared for what?

Two connected passages give clarity on the purpose of this preparation as well as insight into the purposes of our own Advent preparations; that we are to be prepared to see God’s glory and respond in worship.

Prepared to see God’s glory. Isaiah lined out a job description for John the Baptist hundreds of years before his birth:

“A voice cries: ‘In the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord; make straight in the desert a highway for our God. Every valley shall be lifted up, and every mountain and hill be made low; the uneven ground shall become level, and the rough places a plain. And the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together, for the mouth of the Lord has spoken’” (Is. 40:3-5).

The metaphor is that of a cluttered path—valleys, mountains, and the uneven, rough ground that marks the difficult paths of the world and of our lives. These are the paths we create on our own, attempting to walk them without God. It is a path for God, yet we are the ones who’ve cluttered it! John’s job was to be an earth-mover; to run a spiritual bulldozer over these self-made roads and level out a path upon which God himself would come to his people.

The path that John was to prepare (and that Advent mimics, in a way) was a path of welcome. It was the path of the King, upon which we are to roll out the red carpet in welcome. Advent is a time of preparation for welcoming the King!

The ultimate purpose of this leveling work is “for the glory of the Lord [to] be revealed and all flesh [to] see it together” (Is. 40:5). God is making it possible for us once again to clearly see His glory. In order for that to happen, the path has to be cleared. It has to be decluttered.

Prepared to respond in worship. When John is born, Zechariah’s mouth is opened for the first time in nine months, and he sings a song of praise to God. In it, he prophesies to his son, “And you, child, will be called the prophet of the Most High; for you will go before the Lord to prepare his ways, to give knowledge of salvation to his people in the forgiveness of their sins” (Luke 1:76-77). All this, Zechariah says, so that the people might “serve him [i.e., worship God] without fear, in holiness and righteousness before him all our days” (Luke 1:74-75).

As a descendant of Aaron, John too was a priest. His would be preparatory in nature: cleaning house, decluttering, and removing obstacles so that nothing else would distract from what Israel was made for: to worship God.

So, what are we preparing for during this Advent season? We are preparing to worship.

ADVENT: A SEASON TO DECLUTTER

Advent is a season meant to prepare a people for the coming of the King. It’s a time of decluttering from all the things we’ve thrown into the path and onto the altar that bog down our worship, replaced Jesus in our affections, and distracted us from him.

Advent is a yearly rhythm of intentionally entering into practices that help us to declutter our spaces, calendars, wallets, minds, and hearts. It’s a time to intentionally get our house ready for the one who came as a baby. Decluttering is an act of hospitality, of rolling out the red carpet, of preparing, and of going all out in order to make room for and welcome the King.

Advent is a time for us to return to what this season—and our lives—are to be about: worship. Not just for Advent, but for always.

---

Mike Phay serves as Lead Pastor at FBC Prineville (Oregon) and as a Staff Writer at Gospel-Centered Discipleship. He has been married to Keri for over 21 years, and they have five amazing kids. You can follow him on Twitter (@mikephay) or check out his blog.

Greg Gilbert on the New ESV Story of Redemption Bible

The Bible is the epic story of the unfolding plan of God over the course of the history of the world. To help tell that story, Crossway created the ESV Story of Redemption Bible. This new Bible leads readers on a journey through the redemptive storyline from start to finish, with conversational commentary written by pastor Greg Gilbert.

I asked Greg about his experience working on the commentary and his thoughts on the result.

What prompted your desire to help create the Story of Redemption Bible?

One of the greatest joys of pastoring a church has been the opportunity to preach through most of the 66 books of the Bible. As I've done that, not necessarily in order, the beauty of the one great story of redemption has just grown brighter and brighter. If you read it correctly, the Bible isn't just a handbook for life or a collection of pithy proverbs; it's a story, as grand and moving and tragic and glorious as any you've ever heard.

I want to help Christians understand that story better, feel its tensions and drama, and revel in its glorious conclusion. I hope the ESV Story of Redemption Bible will help to do that!

What makes the Story of Redemption Bible unique from the dozens of other kinds of Bibles we see being published? 

The unique thing about the ESV Story of Redemption Bible—besides its stunningly beautiful design—is that it puts the storyline front and center. My job, as narrator, is to act as a kind of tour guide as we make our way through the vast mountain ranges, so to speak, of the story of God's redemption of the world. The point isn't so much to find "nuggets" of application here and there, but rather to walk through, understand, and feel the whole narrative, to sweep our eyes across the mountains and take in what God has done.

To that end, I walk along with you, showing up in the text at certain intervals to explain what's going on, what's about to happen, and why it matters, all with the hope of helping you keep the thread of the story and not get lost and frustrated in the details.

Another unique feature of the ESV Story of Redemption Bible is that if you start in Genesis 1:1 and follow the notes' instructions, you'll end up reading all 66 books of the Bible, but not in canonical order. Instead, we read each minor prophet at the appropriate point in the story—when that prophet was actually preaching—and the result is that instead of being a clump of context-less judgment at the end of the Old Testament, the minor prophets come alive as an integral part of the larger history that's unfolding.

Think of the whole thing as a trek through the Himalayas, with your very own guide to help you through!

When you started working on this project, did you have a particular audience in mind? 

The project actually started as an idea for a Bible for brand-new believers, but honestly, as I made my way through the Bible with my focus entirely on the narrative—the drama, characters, hopes, dreams, prophecies, songs—I realized that what I was learning and feeling was far more than just "good reminders" for me (as Christians like to say!). I was seeing the Bible in a new light, feeling it in new ways, and it was massively encouraging to me.

The ESV Story of Redemption Bible will be useful for any believer, new or not. To be sure, it'll take some work and investment to get the whole benefit of it. Setting out to read all 66 books of the Bible is no small thing! But that's really the best use of this Bible. Sure, you'll get some benefit from the notes, I think, just by spot-reading. But the whole point is to start at the beginning, work to the end, and revel in every glorious, tragic, and redemptive moment of the story.

One of my personal favorite aspects of the Story of Redemption Bible is the look and feel of it! Tell us a little bit about the design work behind this project. 

I actually didn't have anything to do with the design, so I feel like I can be over-the-top in my praise of it. . . I've never seen anything quite like it. The design team mentioned at one point that they wanted to give it the feel of a "one-volume Lord of the Rings," and I think they did it. The gold-leaf, intricate designs, maps, graphs, and charts—not to mention the 66 circular medallions for each book of the Bible—really make you feel like you're setting off on an epic journey.

This Bible doesn't so much have the feel of the desk and study. It has the feel of adventure. "You step into the Road, and if you don't keep your feet, there is no knowing where you might be swept off to!"

How do you see this project serving the local church?

I hope this project will help people understand and love the One Story of the Bible more deeply. It is such a shame that so many Christians and churches spend so much of their time digging around in the dust looking for "nuggets" when spread out before them is the majesty of the mountains, if they'd just lift up their eyes and look!

I hope this Bible will help Christians do that, and I pray it will also help pastors communicate that epic story in their own preaching. Ultimately, Christians don't need another practical suggestion on how to make this Tuesday better than last Tuesday. They need to have their breath taken away by seeing what God did, over millennia, to save them from their sins.

---

Greg Gilbert (MDiv, The Southern Baptist Theological Seminary) is senior pastor at Third Avenue Baptist Church in Louisville, Kentucky. He is the author of What Is the Gospel?, James: A 12-Week Study, and Who Is Jesus?, and is the co-author (with Kevin DeYoung) of What Is the Mission of the Church?

Zach Barnhart currently serves as Student Pastor of Northlake Church in Lago Vista, TX. He holds a Bachelor of Science from Middle Tennessee State University and is currently studying at Midwestern Baptist Theological Seminary, seeking a Master of Theological Studies degree. He is married to his wife, Hannah. You can follow Zach on Twitter @zachbarnhart or check out his personal blog, Cultivated.

What the Wise Men Teach Us About How We Read the Bible

We all have one in our homes this time of year—a cute nativity scene. There’s baby Jesus, of course, right in the middle, flanked by Mary and Joseph, a collection of donkeys and sheep, a few shepherds, perhaps an angel above, and, last but not least, three wise men. Let’s talk about those wise men. The thing is, if your nativity scene has wise men in it, it’s wrong.

Let’s revisit the story.

Revisiting the Christmas Story

Mary, fully pregnant and ready to give birth, finds herself riding a donkey beside her faithful husband, Joseph, as they make their way to Bethlehem. After arriving, they find there’s no room for them in the local inn. But there is a manger, or stable, that has some room.

Having nowhere else to go, Mary and Joseph cozy up in the manger alongside what surely would have been a variety of animals. Once inside, Mary gives birth to her firstborn, a son. But not just any son. This was the very Son of God. They name him Jesus after having received earlier angelic instructions to do so.

Shortly after, angels appear to nearby shepherds and announce the good news that the Savior of the world has just been born. A choir of angels appears and explodes into song: “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace among those with whom he is pleased!” Then, just as quickly as they came, the angels disappeared.

Awe-struck, the shepherds head off to Bethlehem to see this newborn boy. Once they arrive, they find the boy lying in a manger, wrapped in swaddling clothes.

Then, the wise men see a bright, shining star and start heading east, following it towards Jerus—not so fast.

The Case of the Missing Wise Men

This is where things go wrong. We assume the wise men were there at the manger because their story directly follows the birth narrative of Jesus in chapter 2 of Matthew’s Gospel. But our assumption leads us astray because the Bible never says the wise men were present at the birth. Instead, it says they visited Jesus when he was about 2 years old.

We know this from the tragic and gruesome details of Herod’s slaughter of young boys in Matthew 2. The wise men, in an epically unwise move, go to King Herod in Jerusalem to ask where this baby boy, the new “King of the Jews,” has been born.

Immediately sensing the threat to his throne and an opportunity to snuff out this newcomer, Herod plays along with the wise men. He tells them to go to Bethlehem and find this new king, then report his location so he could come and kill him. The wise men did find the baby boy, and yes, they brought him gifts of frankincense, gold, and myrrh. But they were warned in a dream not to return to Herod, so they went home a different way.

Herod, realizing he’s been duped by the wise men, does what all dictators do when things don’t go their way—he starts killing people. Since he didn’t know which little boy to have killed, he orders every boy age 2 and under to be murdered.

This is how we know when the wise men came to visit Jesus. Herod deduced the time when the star appeared, then calculated how old the baby king would be. See for yourself:

“Then Herod, when he saw that he had been tricked by the wise men, became furious, and he sent and killed all the male children in Bethlehem and in all that region who were two years old or under, according to the time that he had ascertained from the wise men.” –Matt. 2:16

So now you know your nativity is wrong. At the end of the day, I’m not really concerned with whether you have the magi in your manger.

What I am concerned about is what this error reveals about how we read the Bible. In particular, it reveals three common problems with how we approach Scripture: we don’t read it for ourselves, we assume other people have read it for themselves, and we don’t see what we read.

We Don’t Read the Bible for Ourselves

Bible engagement is, to put it bluntly, abysmal, even within the church. You might even call it an epidemic. In American culture where unfettered access to the Bible exists in a variety of formats, more than half of Americans have read little or none of the Bible. After their recent study of Bible reading, LifeWay Research concluded that Americans are fond of the Bible but don’t actually read it.

Scott McConnell, Executive Director of LifeWay Research, highlights the problem, saying, “Even among worship attendees less than half read the Bible daily. The only time most Americans hear from the Bible is when someone else is reading it.”

The reason most of us think the wise men were at the manger is that most of us haven’t read the Bible for ourselves. We haven’t exposed ourselves to the text first-hand, let alone examined it. Most Americans seem content to live in Old Testament times where God’s Word had to come through the mouth of a prophet. Francis Chan writes,

“A mentor of mine lives in India. Last year, he called me on the phone crying, distraught over the state of the church in America. ‘It seems like the people in America would be content to take a selfie with Moses. Don’t they know they can go up the mountain themselves? Why don’t they want to go up the mountain?’”

One of the reasons we don’t want to go up the mountain is because we assume the people we hear the Bible from went up themselves, which leads us to our second problem.

We Assume Other People Have Read the Bible for Themselves

Millions of people missing a small detail of the manger scene is only possible when those people assume others have read the Bible closely and will tell them what they need to know. Perhaps this is why “good Bible teaching” is most important to American churchgoers—we need good Bible teaching or we won’t get any Bible for the week.

Whether it’s teaching in a weekend service, small group, or Bible study, we assume the people talking have read the Bible for themselves. That assumption leads us to believe we can trust what they say about it. And even when they say something that sounds off, we haven’t read enough of the Bible to know where to check their understanding.

One of the big takeaways from LifeWay’s recent study was that “people who really like the Bible don’t necessarily really read the Bible.” If the statistics are true—and if we care deeply about eternity—we would be wise not to assume people talking about the Bible have actually read it.

But what about those of us who do read the Bible? How have we read the birth narratives in Matthew 2 and Luke 2 without noticing the time gap between the shepherds and wise men? Because even when we read the Bible, we don’t see what we read.

We Don’t See What We Read

Of the small percentage of Americans who read the Bible, an even smaller percentage know how. Literacy, or knowing how to read, is not the only skill needed to read a two-thousand-year-old collection of books written in ancient cultures by people from a world that looked vastly different than ours. A solid grasp of hermeneutics, or the science of interpreting ancient documents, is crucial for people in 2018 to read a book written in Rome or Israel thousands of years earlier.

At a basic level, everyone in the church should have access to other, more mature believers who can show them how to rightly handle the word of truth (2 Tim. 2:15). The value in teaching something like hermeneutics is in helping Christians properly interpret what they’re reading in the Scriptures. The real goal, though, of hermeneutics is to train people to see the Bible.

Most of us read things at such a speed that we don’t notice much of what’s there. We miss context, innuendo, previous references, etc. We see so little because we don’t give ourselves time to look. We read through passages so we can check the box on our reading plan, or swipe right in our Bible app.

If we want to learn to read the Bible, we must learn to see the Bible. That takes time and effort. But the reward is like sweet, like honey in the mouth (Ezek. 3:3).

A Way Forward

Do you need to throw away your nativity if it has wise men? No. But you might need to chart a way forward with your own Bible reading habit. There are a few ways to get started.

First, read the Bible. Just read it. You won’t learn to love the Bible until you learn to read the Bible. So, tolle lege—take up and read!

Next, find someone to teach you how to read it well. If that’s not an option, make use of one of the great online resources available, like David Platt’s Secret Church session on How to Study the Bible, or Southeastern Baptist Theological Seminary’s class on Interpreting and Teaching the Bible.

Finally, pray for God to give you a hunger for the Bible. Ultimately, we don’t read the Bible because we don’t delight in reading it. Pray for that delight as you continue to immerse yourself in the wonders of the Word.

Please don’t put your eternity in someone else’s hands. Read the Bible for yourself.

---

Grayson Pope (M.A., Christian Studies) is a husband and father of three, and the Managing Web Editor at Gospel-Centered Discipleship. He serves as a writer and editor with Prison Fellowship. For more of Grayson’s writing check out his website, or follow him on Twitter.

How the Lord Blesses God-Fearing Husbands and Fathers

We usually associate fear with the anticipation of something unpleasant or the expectation of our safety being threatened. We think of fear in terms of what we’re afraid of. Scripture teaches about another kind of fear—the fear of the Lord.

Psalm 128 addresses the fear of the Lord in terms of the reverence and awe we have for God and his majesty. Martin Luther described this kind of fear as filial, meaning the kind of fearful respect a child has for his father. His obedience is not motivated out of fear of punishment, but fear of displeasing the father he loves so much. The child’s respect and love for his father produce in him the desire to obey in all things.

This is the fear of the Lord. And there is a reward for the God-fearing: “Blessed is everyone who fears the Lord, who walks in his ways” (Ps. 128:1).

The 128th Psalm is one of the Psalms of Ascents, made up of Psalms 120-134. Each year, the Jews would travel to Jerusalem, the city on a hill, for religious festivals. As they made the upward journey, they sang these psalms to encourage one another. Psalm 128 encourages a specific audience—godly husbands and fathers who fear the Lord.

Charles Spurgeon writes, “It is not to be inferred that all blessed men are married and are fathers; but that this is the way in which the Lord favours godly people who are placed in domestic life.”

While the Bible teaches that everyone who fears the Lord invites his blessings into their lives, Psalm 128 is the application of that blessing specifically to husbands and fathers. Consider the blessings intended for such a man who fears the Lord.

HE WILL BE BLESSED IN HIS WORK

“You shall eat the fruit of the labor of your hands; you shall be blessed, and it shall be well with you” (v. 2). This man invites God’s provisional and occupational blessings into his life. He is blessed with labor. Despite the commonality of men in our culture having jobs to go to each day, we must never forget that our careers are an evidence of God’s grace. The Lord blesses him with work.

This man is blessed as his employment provides for his needs. He works hard and enjoys the financial rewards from his hard work. He has the means to care for his family. God blesses the work he has already completed.

This blessing of eating the fruit of his labor is not to be confused with the prosperity “gospel.” This is not a blank check theology—this is the promise of provisional blessings. Some of the dearest saints in church history were among the poorest in their cities, and yet this blessing is applicable to the materially poor as well.

God sets the terms of our blessings according to his pleasure and generosity, and we humbly accept what he offers for our good as he fulfills his desire to bless.

HE WILL BE BLESSED IN HIS FAMILY

“Your wife will be like a fruitful vine within your house; your children will be like olive shoots around your table. Behold, thus shall the man be blessed who fears the Lord” (vv. 3-4). This man invites God’s familial blessings into his life.

He is blessed with a fruitful wife who brings joy. She is fruitful in good works. She gives birth to his children and welcomes the orphaned into his family. His children surround his table as they engage in the formative liturgy of family mealtime. Like olive shoots, they represent life and energy. They are a blessing for his future welfare. He will have heirs to care for him in his old age.

The godly husband and father who fears the Lord will enjoy blessing in his home. Spurgeon says, “Family blessedness comes from the Lord, to the Lord alone we must look for it.” All efforts to trust in ourselves for blessings must be rejected. Favor doesn’t come from a healthy bank account, an attractive wife, a Paleo-lifestyle, or well-behaved children. The Lord is the giver of this blessing.

HE WILL BE BLESSED IN HIS VISION

“The Lord bless you from Zion! May you see the prosperity of Jerusalem all the days of your life! May you see your children's children! Peace be upon Israel” (vv. 5-6). These blessings are corporate and multi-generational. The blessings apply to the larger welfare of the family of God. And God blesses this man by expanding his vision beyond himself and his biological family.

We are blessed to bless others. As this man’s own family is blessed, they, in turn, are a blessing to their city, their future lineage, and beyond. This godly man will be blessed with a vision that extends beyond his lifespan of God’s blessings in his own family and in the family of God. Our enemy doesn’t want us to see God’s covenantal faithfulness to us. He seeks to destroy what God blesses by directing our focus to our hardships.

But look deeper. Look upward. You were meant to behold God’s blessedness.

BE BLESSED

Husbands and fathers, are you God-fearing men? Do you walk in his ways?

When you fear the Lord, his ways become your ways. And it will be well with you. Scripture says you will be blessed, and you will be able to see the blessings as they extend beyond yourself.

Imagine the Jewish people singing this Psalm together as they climbed the hill to Jerusalem. While meant to encourage the husbands and fathers specifically, consider the joy of the mothers and children as they realized how their husbands’ and fathers’ godly living resulted in their blessing as well. Imagine how the single men and women might have rejoiced as they were reminded of how this blessing extended to them as part of the family of God.

God’s people are blessed when they fear him. And when they do, they have nothing else to fear.

We need to reclaim a gospel view of fear. Fear is good when rightly aimed at our Father. “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom” (Prov. 9:10). Husbands and fathers, be wise. Fear the Lord. Walk in his ways and be blessed. The blessing is yours. Seek it.

Fear God and receive your reward, knowing that if you are not experiencing these blessings currently, you have greater rewards to look forward to. The rewards of Jesus Christ and the eternal blessing of a heavenly home.

---

Christy Britton is a wife and mom of four boys. She is an orphan advocate for 127 Worldwide and writes curriculum for Docent Research. Her family worships at Imago Dei Church in Raleigh, North Carolina. She writes for several blogs, including her own, http://www.beneedywell.com/. You can follow her on Twitter.

Adorn Yourself with the Peace that Passes Understanding

I careened into the driveway and slammed the engine into park. My breathing was shallow and quick. I was hot and sweaty and felt like the car was closing in on me. I flung open the door and hung my legs out, hunching over on my knees.

What is happening to me? I wondered. I re-traced my day, realizing I had lost myself in a mental spiral about my career. I knew I would soon be looking for another job, though I didn’t know what kind, if I would have to move my family, or what that would even look like.

Fortunately, I was seeing a counselor around that time. I told her what happened, and she asked about my prayer life. “Huh?” I said, confused. “Your prayer life. How is it?” she replied.

Ugh, I thought, knowing it was basically non-existent. “It’s not very good,” I told her.

As we talked, I realized that as my anxiety increased, my prayer decreased. As my inner world became noisier, I filled the prayer space with podcasts, music, and audiobooks—anything to keep me from dealing with my thoughts.

And it was ruining me.

HEARTBURN

The more I hid from my thoughts, the more I felt like David in Psalm 39:

I held my peace to no avail, and my distress grew worse. My heart became hot within me. As I mused, the fire burned . . .

I’m guessing you’ve felt the same before. You tie your stomach in knots while planning your next move. You’re not sure if that school is right for the kids: They might excel academically, but what about their influences? You’re wondering what’ll happen if you take that job: Will my family be upset? Will we regret it in a year? You feel exhausted even when you aren’t doing anything physically strenuous. You’re depleted, anxious, uneasy, discontent.

David was no stranger to these emotions. Before he was crowned king, he spent years on the run from Saul, who wanted him dead because Saul knew God had promised David the throne. At one point, David took to hiding in caves. Alone in those damp, dark caverns, he surely had to ask God, What are you doing? I thought I was supposed to be king, but here I am hiding from a madman. Will this ever end? How long, O Lord?!

THE LONGEST PSALM TO LEARN

I wouldn’t be surprised if David eventually worked himself into a tizzy like I did that day in my car. But David didn’t have a counselor to calm him down, so what did he do? He wrote this prayer:

 O Lord, my heart is not lifted up; my eyes are not raised too high; I do not occupy myself with things too great and too marvelous for me. But I have calmed and quieted my soul, like a weaned child with its mother; like a weaned child is my soul within me.

O Israel, hope in the Lord from this time forth and forevermore.

It may not look like much at first, but Psalm 131 is one of the finest gems in all the Psalms. “It is one of the shortest Psalms to read, but one of the longest to learn,” wrote Charles Spurgeon.

He’s right. I stumbled onto this psalm during those days of inner turmoil and it became a balm to my heart, soul, and mind. These three short verses reached down and plucked me from the cave I was hiding in.

Much like the other Psalms of Ascent, this song starts low but rises to great heights. It can take a wild-minded person and subdue them into an unhurried soul. And it starts with humility.

I DON’T WANT TO BE KING

David starts his appeal by admitting he has been humbled. Verse 1 shows the future king brought low by years of scrambling and surviving. His heart was no longer set on the throne. His eyes stopped gazing up as he daydreamed of ruling. He quit trying to figure out what only God can know.

David rightly connected his heart, eyes, and soul, for “What the heart desires, the eyes look for. Where the desires run, the glances usually follow.”[i]

God wanted David gazing up not at the throne, but at him. So it is with us. God wants us peering up with anticipation, but he wants our gaze fixed on him, not the things of this world.

Too often, I want to understand how the puzzle fits together. I want to know why things happen. I want all the information. But my eyes can only be one place at a time. When I’m fixated on planning my steps, I miss the God who establishes them (Prov. 16:9).

A humble and lowly heart is the beginning of sanctification. God works not with a heart of stone, but with a heart of flesh, softened and made malleable by being brought low. And what starts in the heart continues into the soul.

BE STILL MY SOUL

In verse 2, we see the result of David’s humbled heart—a calm and quiet soul. But this tranquil state didn’t happen on its own. David says, “I have calmed and quieted my soul.” It was an act of the will; in fact, it was a deliberate submission of his will before the Lord.

The word translated calmed can also be rendered composed. “To compose your soul means literally to level it. [To] bulldoze the building site,” writes David Powlison. “To quiet your soul means to silence the noise and tumult. [To say] ‘Sssshhh’ to your desires, fears, opinions, anxieties, agendas, and irritabilities.”[ii]

David stopped trying to control the uncontrollable, quieted his manic thoughts, and was left with a peaceful soul.

A peaceful soul is only possible when it has been hushed into submission. This surely rubs us the wrong way, but David gives us a word-picture to explain. He has calmed and quieted his soul “like a weaned child with its mother; like a weaned child is my soul within me.”

As a father of four, I’ve learned that an unweaned child frantically roots around for milk when they’re anywhere near their mother. When it comes time to wean the child, they cry their little hearts out, breaking their mother’s in the process.

But the mother stays the course because she knows it’s necessary if the child is ever going to go on to solid food. After a while, the child moves on and is no longer overcome by their former desire. A weaned child can simply enjoy being in his mother’s lap, and this satisfaction is not a matter of food but of the heart.

This is a picture of David’s humbled heart. This infantile contentment leads to a parental concern for others, as seen in verse 3.

WAIT WITH HOPE

A humbled heart is freed to love and care for others. “Pride dies as the humility of faith lives,” writes Powlison.

As David’s pride died, his humble faith began to live, and the overflow of his contentment was to plead with his people not to make the same mistakes. “O Israel, hope in the Lord from this time forth and forevermore,” he says.

Stop pursuing impossibilities and start pursuing certainties. Hope in God, who we know is unchanging and good and loving. Don’t get impatient and move forward without him.

Eugene Peterson paraphrased verse 3 this way: “Wait, Israel, for God. Wait with hope. Hope now; hope always!” A humble heart and submissive will allow us to wait with hope. Hope for the next phase, the next doctor’s appointment, the next meeting, the next day, even the next life. That hope then feeds and sustains humility in our hearts and helps us see the wisdom of submitting our souls to the God who formed our innermost parts (Ps. 139).

“When we cease to hanker for the world we begin hoping for the Lord,” wrote Spurgeon. The only way to cease longing for the world is to pick up our cross daily and follow the Lord of hope. That daily dying requires a humble heart, a submitted soul, and a patient hope.

THE PEACE THAT PASSES UNDERSTANDING

Once I realized I was ruining my soul by trying to control the uncontrollable, I calmed and quieted it instead. I memorized Psalm 131 as ammunition against my anxious thoughts. I fasted from podcasts and other audio while running or walking in the mornings. I deleted social media from my phone and blocked it in my browser.

I was back behind the wheel one morning when I realized I could feel the silence in my soul. I wasn’t inundated with anxieties. I was calm. I was quiet.

I wish I could say that tranquility has lasted, but I’ve relapsed many times since then. I am calmer and quieter than I’ve ever been, but I have a long way to go in turning over my heart, eyes, and soul to the Lord. Maybe you do, too.

If so, David’s last line in the psalm can bring us comfort. Linger over these words: “O believer, hope in the Lord from this time forth and forevermore.”

Spurgeon wrote that Psalm 131 is like a pearl that will beautifully adorn the neck of patience. Be patient, brother. Be patient, sister. Hope in the Lord and adorn yourself with the peace that passes understanding.

---

[i] Charles H. Spurgeon, Treasury of David: Explanatory Notes and Quaint Sayings on Psalm 131, http://www.romans45.org/spurgeon/treasury/ps131.htm.

[ii] David Powlison, “’Peace, be still’: Learning Psalm 131 by Heart,” The Journal of Biblical Counseling, Vol. 18 No. 3, Spring 2000, https://www.ccef.org/wp-content/uploads/archive/sites/default/files/pdf/dp_psalm131_1803002.pdf.

Grayson Pope (M.A., Christian Studies) is a husband and father of four, and the Managing Web Editor at GCD. He serves as a writer and editor with Prison Fellowship. For more of Grayson’s writing, check out his website or follow him on Twitter.

Lasting Joy Among the Waves

The sun provided the perfect counter-balance to the cold ocean waves washing the sand off my feet. From where I stood, there seemed to be an endless supply of water that stretched until meeting the blue sky in the distance. To my left, kids with boogie boards were laughing while trying to catch waves. The air was a mixed fragrance of salt and sunscreen.

I watched my 15-month-old son giggle as he tried to jump over a wave again and again. With each wave, my son became braver and wanted to go deeper into the water. So I took his hand and went until the water was up to my knees and his chest. He continued to laugh as the waves pushed against his little body.

A HELPLESS STATE

His small stature and flimsy body were no match against the incoming waves. Each wave would have knocked him down apart from my grip. His desire to be independent would often lead him to try and pull his hand away from mine, but I knew he couldn't withstand the waves on his own, so I wasn't going to let go of him. What kept my son standing against the powerful waves was not his ability or desire to hold on to me, but my ability and determination to hold on to him.

I often feel as helpless as my son standing in those waves. Each day brings hard decisions that crash into me like the rising tide. Today’s problems and tomorrow’s worries weigh heavily on my mind. Am I doing a good job as a parent? Will I be able to afford a new vehicle when our minivan finally bites the dust?

Maybe your worries are similar, but the questions are different. How will I ever be able to pay for college? How can I deal with this issue in our church? How can I encourage my friend who's suffering? The never-ending waves threaten to bury you in the sea and your ability to swim against them seems as hopeless as an ant tied to a cinder block being tossed off a pier.

The greatest antidote to the doubt caused by my own weakness is the reminder of who God is and the promises he has made. Reflecting on God's unconditional promises reminds me that my Father loves me too much to abandon me (Deut. 31:8; Josh. 1:5; John 14:18-20; Heb. 13:5-6). Though I'm weak, he simply won't let me go.

What God Promises vs. What Man Promises

In Psalm 132, the psalmist is reflecting on the unconditional promises of God. The psalm would later be recited by the Israelites as they displayed their confidence that the Lord would keep his promises, specifically the promise he made to their king, David.

The Psalm begins with a promise made by David. He "swore to the Lord" to make him a dwelling place (Ps. 132:2). When David made known his desires to build a temple for the Lord in 2 Samuel 7, the Lord tells David that one of his sons would do so, instead. David's intentions are presumably good; Scripture after all refers to him as a "man after God's own heart" (1 Sam. 13:14; cf. Acts 13:22). Even still, the limited ability of man is easy to see.

Because of our limits, we can have the best of intentions and the most committed resolve and still not be able to guarantee results. Proverbs 16:1 comes to mind: "The plans of the heart belong to man, but the answer of the tongue is from the Lord." In David’s case, the Lord's answer was no.

The fact that David didn't build the temple was certainly not lost on the psalmist, nor the Israelites as they later recited this psalm while ascending the hill. In fact, the first verse is a prayer to remember David, and in verse 10 a prayer is made "for the sake of your servant David." Why, then, does David play such a pivotal role in salvation history even though he didn't build the temple? He didn’t accomplish what he intended, right?

It’s not because of David’s promise to God, but God’s promise to David. In 2 Samuel 7 the Lord tells David,

“And I will make for you a great name, like the name of the great ones of the earth. . . . When your days are fulfilled and you lie down with your fathers, I will raise up your offspring after you, who shall come from your body, and I will establish his kingdom. He shall build a house for my name, and I will establish the throne of his kingdom forever...And your house and your kingdom shall be made sure forever before me.”

The Coming King

One of David's son's would build the temple. We know Solomon built a great temple to the Lord. However, this temple was a building made with hands that was eventually destroyed by the Babylonians. The Lord promises another one of David's sons, many generations later, would build God a "house" that would never be destroyed (Ps. 132:13-14; 2 Sam. 7:13; 1 Pet. 2:2-5). This son of David would clothe the priests with salvation and make the saints shout for joy (Ps. 132:16). This king would reign forever (v. 11-12; 2 Sam. 7:13)!

These were unconditional promises given to David. While David was a good king, Scripture is clear he was also a sinner. Even David's sons—referring to his subsequent generations—would not fulfill their obligations to "keep my covenant and my testimonies." They would fail over and over as the phrase "he did what was evil in the sight of the Lord" seems to be on repeat in the book of Kings (2 Kings 13:11, 21:2, 23:37, 24:9).

However, in spite of the failures and shortcomings of man, God had determined that he was going to ensure this promise comes to pass. Centuries later, an angel would appear to a young woman announcing her pregnancy:

“And behold, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you shall call his name Jesus. He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High. And the Lord God will give to him the throne of his father David, and he will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end” (Luke 1:31-33).

David was limited in fulfilling his promise. God was not. Where men fall short, God still enables his promises to be kept.

GOLDEN ANSWERS TO SILVER PRAYERS

God's promises are sure, and they are better than what we typically ask for. Ephesians tells us that God "is able to do far more abundantly than all that we ask or think" (3:20). This psalm gives us a picture of the Lord answering prayers in such a way. Charles Spurgeon calls this God's "golden answer to a silver prayer." Notice the parallels between the first and second half of the psalm:

• The requests in verses 1-6 to remember David is answered in verse 12.

• The desire for a place of worship in verse 7 is answered in verse 13.

• The prayer for the Lord's resting place in verse 8 is answered in verse 14.

• The cries for the righteousness of the priests and joy for the people in verse 9 is affirmed in verses 15-16.

• The prayer to remember David and not turn away from the anointed one in verse 10 is resolutely answered in verses 17-18.

God's answers are better than the requests given. The people pray for God to remember the Davidic kingship; God promises that it will be eternal. The people pray for a place to worship; God provides a spiritual worship that doesn't depend on geographical location. The people pray for righteousness and joy; God promises salvation that causes the saints to shout for joy.

Seeing the certainty of God's promise and his ability to guarantee follow-through on those promises should encourage us to continually trust the Lord. Even as the difficulties of life and the awareness of my own shortcomings pound against me like the relentless waves, I know that the Father is holding on to me and he has promised to never let me go. Thankfully, my hope in this life does not depend on my strength, but on his.

Because God delivers on his promises, the Son of David came as promised. Because God delivers on his promises, we know our sin has been atoned for and our relationship with Christ is secure. Because of the good news of the gospel, we can know we have been "clothed with salvation" and "shout for joy" (Ps. 132:9). Real, lasting joy out among the waves.

---

James Williams has served as an Associate Pastor at FBC Atlanta, TX since 2013. He is married to Jenny and they have three children and are actively involved in foster care. He is in the dissertation stage of a Ph.D. in Systematic Theology. You can follow James Twitter or his blog where he writes regularly.

Unity in an Age of Division

Our church hosted a “Unity Forum” after the 2016 elections. I’ll never forget it. Pittsburgh is one city that often feels more like two. There’s Old Pittsburgh, the Pittsburgh of the steel industry, I.C. Light, and voting Republican. Then, there’s New Pittsburgh, the Pittsburgh of the technology and health industries, microbreweries, and voting Democrat.

At the forum, one side wanted to Make America Great Again, while the other side chose to stand With Her. People from both side, citizens of both the Old and the New Pittsburgh go to our church.

Instead of sitting on opposite sides of the aisle, we often share the same pew. Red and Blue are sprinkled throughout the congregation instead of neatly divided into separate sections. It’s not uncommon to see an outspoken Trump supporter squished into the same pew as someone who marched against Trump.

But on a Sunday during an election season, it can feel about as volatile as Thanksgiving dinner with your extended family. Conversations are cordial as long as no one asks who you voted for.

High Tensions

Tensions were particularly high after the 2016 elections. Social media posts from some of the people in our church were downright offensive. Congregants were wondering what we would say from the pulpit, if we said anything at all.

Our church felt more divided than ever, and we wanted to do something that could heal the disunity before the cement dried. We announced an upcoming “Unity Forum” and invited anyone with feelings—any feelings—to attend.

It seemed like a good idea.

We tried, really really tried, to lead people into face-to-face conversations with one another. We tried to help people seek to understand before they were understood. We tried to teach people how to make sure they could explain what the other person was feeling before they shared what they were feeling. We tried to create unity and, in the end, we only saw how deep the disunity ran.

We saw in our church a microcosm of our country, and we didn’t know what to do about it.

Israel’s Polarized Cultural Moment

We aren’t the first nation to live through a polarized cultural moment. God’s chosen people, the nation of Israel whom he had set free from slavery in Egypt, had their own experiences of disunity.

In 1 Kings 11-12, after King Solomon walked away from the Lord, God promised the kingdom would fall apart under the leadership of Solomon’s son—an act of judgment on Solomon’s worship of foreign gods. And, under the poor leadership of his son Rehoboam, the unified kingdom divided into two: Israel in the north, Judah in the South.

If they had cable news, the anchors would have been stoking the heated rhetoric. Some people would have had “Make Israel Great Again” bumper stickers on their chariots, while others would have been wearing “I’m with Rehoboam” t-shirts. There would have been long arguments on social media about which side was to blame for the division. Feast days would have been full of tension, not unlike our own.

Israel’s Moment of Peace

Only two generations before the division, though, the kingdom was in a far better place. King David was on the throne. The kingdom was mostly at peace with itself, even if it was at war with foreign nations. It was a peaceful, rather than a polarized, cultural moment—one in which the king had time to write poetry.

In Psalm 133, a poem which would be sung for generations to come, David muses,

Behold, how good and pleasant it is when brothers dwell in unity! It is like the precious oil on the head, running down on the beard, on the beard of Aaron, running down on the collar of his robes!

It is like the dew of Hermon, which falls on the mountains of Zion! For there the Lord has commanded the blessing, life forevermore.

It’s one thing to sing this in a moment of unity, like what Israel experienced under David’s rule. It’s quite another to believe it when your kingdom is divided in two.

As one of the “Songs of Ascents,” a collection of psalms possibly intended to be sung on the way to Jerusalem, this psalm was part of a playlist that was listened to from generation to generation. It was sung when the nation was at peace and when relatives were ready to kill one another. It was sung when politics were cordial and when they were explosive. It was sung when unity was palpable and when disunity was the norm.

In a polarized cultural moment, how can we find the kind of unity David describes in this psalm? Is it even possible?

How Not to Create Unity

While most of us are not sure what oil dripping down Aaron’s head or dew on Mount Hermon feels like, both seem better than whatever we’re experiencing right now. We’re growing tired of the disunity all around us—in the church and outside of it. There’s a sense of malaise about our fragmented, polarized moment.

None of us, though, can seem to agree on what it might look like to pursue unity.

For some of us, unity means not talking about our differences. We can have unity as long as no one brings up politics at dinner or on Sunday morning. We can have unity as long we only stick to the accepted topics of conversation. It’s superficial, of course, and everyone knows it. But it’s better than losing friends over midterm elections.

For others, unity means agreeing on everything. Kyle J. Howard, in his recent article in Fathom Magazine, writes, “As a young Christian, I assumed that being ‘united’ had to also include uniformity.” Until we can agree on everything from politics to baptism, unity will always be just out of reach. In the end, we tend to just surround ourselves with people whose opinions make sense to us.

Then, there’s a third group of people who believe unity is impossible. We’re too divided and too polarized to even pursue unity. It’s going to get worse before it gets better. We’re never going to agree on everything, and superficial conversations with relatives aren’t worth it.

But is there another way?

Through and In Jesus Christ

When Dietrich Bonhoeffer wrote Life Together, he opened with Psalm 133:1 as a way to set the stage for the entire book. In the opening chapter, he explains the secret to the unity David describes:

Christianity means community through Jesus Christ and in Jesus Christ. No Christian community is more or less than this. Whether it be a brief, single encounter or the daily fellowship of years, Christian community is only this. We belong to one another only through and in Jesus Christ.[1]

Jesus is the one who makes true unity possible. In his death and resurrection, he created unity across racial and ethnic divides, gender divides, and political divides. It’s a unity even greater than the one David probably imagined when he wrote this psalm. The gospel creates the unity we can never create on our own.

In Ephesians 1:14-18, Paul describes the unity made possible by Jesus, writing,

For he himself is our peace, who has made us both one and has broken down in his flesh the dividing wall of hostility by abolishing the law of commandments expressed in ordinances, that he might create in himself one new man in place of the two, so making peace, and might reconcile us both to God in one body through the cross, thereby killing the hostility. And he came and preached peace to you who were far off and peace to those who were near. For through him we both have access in one Spirit to the Father.

Unity is not primarily something we create; it’s something we discover.

What Unity Truly Depends On

In and through Jesus Christ, we have access to unity that goes deeper than surface-level conversations and the need to agree on everything. It’s here that God “has commanded the blessing, life forevermore” (Ps. 133:3).

When I left the “Unity Forum” back in 2016, it felt like a failure. It felt like we made things worse by trying to make things better. It felt like we were trying to do the impossible at our church by being a church where both sides of the political spectrum could worship the same God from the same pew. I thought people would leave the Unity Forum and never come back again.

In the end, though, people stayed in our church. People showed up the next Sunday and sat down in the same pews. They still talk to one another. They still have hard conversations. We still address political topics from the pulpit, and it tends to offend people on both the left and the right.

No one can create unity with a Unity Forum. If that’s what we’re trying to do, we will always leave feeling like failures.

The best we can do is point to the unbreakable unity we have in and through Jesus Christ—a unity that depends not on whether we can agree on everything or how well we can avoid hard conversations, but on what Jesus did on the cross thousands of years before any midterm election.

---

Austin Gohn is a pastor at Bellevue Christian Church in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania and a student at Trinity School for Ministry. He is the author of a forthcoming book from Gospel-Centered Discipleship on Augustine’s Confessions and young adulthood. You can follow him on Twitter.

[1] Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Life Together (New York: HarperOne, 1954), 21

We Wear the Mask, But We Don’t Have to

The days stretched on like a bad movie that would never end. I wore a cheerful mask as I meandered through my day. I was found myself floundering in the darkness of depression. Sometimes you look at someone and wonder what’s going on behind their eyes. “How are you doing?” friends would ask. “I’m good . . . ” I uttered robotically.

But if you looked close enough behind the mask, you could see I was unraveling. There’s always more happening underneath the mask.

GRASPING FOR WORDS

Some suffering is brought on by our sin and other times suffering happens without invitation. Our hardships are colorful and various. Instead of finding the words to explain our pain, it’s easy to mask our trials with the subtleties of “I’m good," “Things are fine," or if you’re talking to other Christians, “I’m blessed!" We put on the mask of cheer because this is expected of us.

Paul Laurence Dunbar communicates similar sentiments in his poem “We Wear the Mask:”

We wear the mask that grins and lies, It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes, — This debt we pay to human guile; With torn and bleeding hearts we smile, And mouth with myriad subtleties.

I marvel that out of the labors of suffering, beauty such as this can be birthed. The Psalms remind us that corporate and individual suffering can’t be divorced from the human experience. They so eloquently reveal what’s happening underneath the mask. They do not hold back how bleak life in a Genesis 3 world can become. They show the intensity of our pain and the goodness of our God.

When the Worst Has Come

If you live long enough, there will be a point when your worst fears become reality. Your marriage goes from bad to worse when you find the divorce papers in your mailbox. Your oldest child proclaims, “There is no God!" despite your best efforts to train them in the way they should go. You find yourself struggling, again, with the same sin that has been a snare most of your life.

Perhaps, you receive the paralyzing news of the death of a parent or loved one. You feel the pulse of your own heart as the doctor mumbles, “There isn’t a heartbeat.” You sigh at the long road ahead as your people are marginalized, disenfranchised, or enslaved by fellow humans. The list goes on.

The people of Israel were no strangers to suffering. Yes, God chose them to display his glory to the nations, but this privilege did not exempt them from years of pain. In Psalm 129, the psalmist removes the mask, and we witness the metaphorical and literal scars which reside underneath.

In verses 1 and 2, the psalmist sings twice that, “since my youth they have often attacked me." As a people, their suffering was long and consistent. Throughout their history, they went in and out of enslavement to other nations. From the cries of Egypt (Ex. 3:7-8) to the lion’s den in Babylon (Dan. 6), the Israelites experienced consistent attacks. Across generations, some of their worst fears happened over and over again.

In verse 3 the psalmist paints a beautifully disturbing word picture describing physical pain as they sing how “plowmen plow over [their] back; they made their furrows long”. Plows are sharp tools used to break up the earth to plant seeds. Furrows are the long narrow trenches made in the ground by the plows. The mask is off, and here we find the home of the tears and desperation of the suffering.

ATTACKED BY SIN

Similarly, the final stanza of Dunbar’s poem, “We Wear the Mask,” removes the mask as he speaks of this long road of pain:

We smile, but, O great Christ, our cries To Thee from tortured souls arise. We sing, but oh, the clay is vile Beneath our feet, and long the mile; But let the world dream otherwise, We wear the mask.

And this is the case for us. While we may not be enslaved, we still experience attacks. Our attacks may be our sin patterns, spiritual warfare, or an actual enemy who seeks to destroy our reputation by gossip. Enemies are seeking to kill us, bringing many of our fears to reality.

Suffering Together

Perhaps the most beautiful part of Psalm 129 is the call for all of Israel to say, “since my youth they have often attacked me." This Psalm speaks of the collective suffering of a group of people. It gives words to the corporate cries of the oppressed.

My ancestors penned many poems and songs like this when they were, and in some ways still are, oppressed by fellow humans. Littered throughout the beautiful words of negro spirituals and poems written by African-American men and women are the collective pronouns of “we," “our” and “us." African-American poet, Melvin B. Tolson, displays similar sentiments as Psalm 129 in regard to the collective nature of suffering in his poem, “Dark Symphony.” He writes:

Oh, how can we forget Our human rights denied? Oh, how can we forget Our manhood crucified? When Justice is profaned And plea with curse is met, When Freedom’s gates are barred, Oh, how can we forget?

Some may not feel this collective “we” in which these poems and some psalms speak, but we can learn from them. We learn of the nature of the church community—we were meant to suffer alongside one another.

As one body (1 Cor. 12:26) we not only worship with one another, but we feel deeply with one another. As Romans 12:15 says, we “Rejoice with those who rejoice, [and] weep with those who weep.” We draw near to our brothers and sisters in the faith, and we see what is underneath the mask. We don’t disregard it or explain their suffering away; we weep with them.

Through bearing burdens together, we become a tangible expression of the comfort of Christ to them. To even begin to do this, we must be close enough to our brothers and sisters in Christ to know what is going on in their lives and to see behind the mask.

God’s Righteous Character

In the suffering of his people, Tolson writes, “When Freedom’s gates are barred/ Oh, how can we forget?” As Psalm 129 reminds us, the goal of our suffering is not to forget it, erase it, or ignore it.

Psalm 129, and all the Psalms of Ascents, were written to celebrate seasonal feasts in Jerusalem. The Israelites sang these songs corporately and regularly. They sang about their oppression and the Lord’s deliverance. In singing, they forced themselves to remember. Faith helps us to see that God will work in the future—like he has done in the past—because of his consistently righteous character. As one quote renders it, “What God has done for his people formerly are, in effect, promises too. Faith may conclude that the Lord will work in like manner in the future. If he delivered others who rested in him, he will deliver me if I trust in him now. He is the same yesterday and forever.”

In Psalm 129:2, the Israelites sing that their enemies have not prevailed against them. If we were to read only verse 1-2, we might conclude that the Israelites were the reason their enemies didn’t overcome them. We may assume they delivered themselves from their enemies.

HOLD FAST TO THE PROMISE

As we read on, verse 4 reveals salvation didn’t come from the Israelites own strength and efforts but from the Lord’s righteous character. They could sing “the LORD is righteous” (Ps. 129:4) because they drew on years of history which proved the Lord’s faithfulness to them. He delivered others—and by faith—we can believe he will deliver us as well.

We, too, can hold fast to this same promise. For centuries God has kept his Word to his people. He stayed true to his unchanging and righteous character. The ultimate evidence of his deliverance is through the person and work and Jesus Christ who delivered us from the bondage of sin. And in a myriad of smaller ways, he will do the same for us.

Our deliverance may be different than we expect and slow coming. Perhaps instead of removing us from the struggle, he will mold and shape our character, integrity, and faith in it (Rom. 5:3-5; Jas. 1:3). If we find ourselves in the dark night of the soul—before the face of our Father and in the presence of his people—we can remove the mask. We can mourn and remember the faithfulness of our God. And we can recall, he loves to shine his light into the darkest places.

---

SharDavia “Shar” Walker lives in Atlanta, GA with her husband Paul. She serves on staff with Campus Outreach, an interdenominational college ministry, and enjoys sharing her faith and discipling college women to be Christian leaders. Shar is a writer and a speaker and is currently pursuing an M.A. in Christian Studies at Southeastern Baptist Theological Seminary.

God In Our Waiting

Paul once said he had learned the secret of contentment, but he never had to shop at a grocery store. Everyone has their hang-ups, and this is one of my many. Every time I walk through those automatic doors and grab a shopping cart (or “buggy” where I’m from), I know I’m entering a minefield of frustration and impatience.

It's like the engineers who designed the shopping carts didn't consult with the engineers who designed the width of the aisles to allow two shoppers to pass with ease. Some shoppers seem to think their carts are holograms and can be walked through as if they were immaterial. As I shop, thoughts run wild in my head:

Why do five people need to be looking for spices the moment I need to be? Who had the bright idea of putting water pitcher filters in the hardware section? Who goes through self-checkout with 35 items at DMV-level speed?

My shopping experiences sometimes morph into moments of inner rage. I don’t want to be this way.

I want to be grateful I get to shop for food at all, with little concern about having enough to pay for what I need.

I want to see people as God sees them, but then someone forgets how to use their credit card in front of me. It’s a trivial example of a deeper reality of my humanity.

Waiting is not easy.

ALREADY, NOT YET

Paul wrote, “For I have the desire to do what is right, but not the ability to carry it out” (Rom 7:18). Many theologians have ascribed Paul’s reflections here to the Christian experience. Regardless of what Paul specifically meant in this instance, the sentiment itself could describe how Christians often feel.

We are thankful for the gospel’s promise of adoption and grace extended toward sinners like us (Eph 1:5-6), but we are discouraged when our flesh continually presumes on the riches of his kindness (Rom 2:4). We love the thought of receiving “new wine,” but this old wineskin of a body seems to be the wrong place for it (Mk 2:21-22). We live as a “new creation” right here and now (2 Cor 5:17), but a day will come when we are made new, indeed, sinless (Rev 21:5).

Here lies the already-but-not-yet reality of the Christian life, and the answer is not very satisfying: wait.

Why does God make us wait, specifically as it relates to the presence of sin in our lives? Isn’t he aware of how much we hate waiting? Hasn’t he seen us on the interstate or getting off a plane? We’re living in a push-notification, fast-food, tweet-able, convenience-store world; isn’t it about time he catches up with the rest of us and stops the waiting already? Hasn’t it gone on long enough?

Our microwaves and two-day shipping services have conditioned us to believe that waiting is wasting. But God never wastes our waiting.

LEARNING THROUGH WAITING

In fact, it’s only through our waiting that God can teach us certain aspects of himself. There is a reason God has not eradicated the reality of sin yet in us. To make us wait is not to punish, so much as it is to demonstrate and instruct. There must be something redemptive about waiting, as difficult as the tension might be, for God to deem it necessary for each of us.

Psalm 130 is a window through which we see the goodness of waiting and the “okay-ness” of the already-but-not-yet tension that marks Christian living. This psalm is recognized by Bible scholars as one of the seven Penitential Psalms. It's found right in the heart of the Songs of Ascent, a collection of laments, praises, and prayers that frame a sort of “pilgrim’s progress” toward right worship of God.

There's an emphasis on both the individual and communal aspects of sin and penitence. Therefore, this psalm has something pointed to say both to the Church at large as well as to the individual Christian when it comes to sin and hardship and how they relate to our waiting. In particular, it offers four reminders for the person facing sin and hardship.

1. God meets our misery with mercy (Ps. 130:1-2)

Our Father loves us too much to shield us from being brought to the depths. He is not like the over-protective parent who works tirelessly to keep his children free from struggle. We cannot know we are empty until we truly feel it. He will never coerce us into the wrong decision; rather he knows that it is in the depths that his children abandon all attempts at quick fixes and self-help, and turn their gaze upward.

This first stanza is the first of three instances where the Psalmist uses both “LORD” (Yahweh) and “Lord” (Adonai) to describe God. “Yahweh” was considered too holy of a name to speak when referring to God, and “Adonai” was often used in its place.

But the two names have specific and differing points of emphasis regarding the character of God. “Yahweh” is often used in Scripture to point to the covenant faithfulness of God toward his people, while “Adonai” is often used when describing the power and sovereignty of God.

In verses 1-2, God’s faithfulness (Yahweh) and God’s power (Adonai) remind us that God is both faithful and sovereign in hearing our prayers. Our prayers do not fall on apathetic ears or into incapable hands. He is attentive to our cries for help from the depths of our sin. He mercifully ordains our misery, that he might display his power and faithfulness to us.

2. God meets our confession with forgiveness (Ps. 130:3-4)

One of the main reasons many Christians struggle with confessing wrongdoing is that it is simply humiliating. We feel more exposed than the Emperor with his new clothes, like a tabloid will be telling the world in bright and bold letters what we have done.

But as the psalmist recognizes, we are all exposed in the end. Why should we fear confession when we have all fallen short of God’s glory (Rom 3:23)? In verses 3-4, God’s faithfulness (Yahweh) and God’s power (Adonai) remind us that God is both faithful and sovereign in spite of our personal sins.

When we confess our sins, God clothes us with the garments of salvation (Isa 61:10). It is only through the way of confession that we come to understand being forgiven. And even more so, God allows us to go through the difficulty of confession “that [he] may be feared.” When we confess our sins, God will manifest his forgiving power in our lives, which will spark worship in our hearts.

3. God meets our hope with promises (Ps. 130:5-6)

Our only hope of being rid of the battle with sin once and for all is if God makes it so. It is hopeless for us to attempt in our own selves to finally eliminate sin. God must intervene, and therefore we must wait.

The psalmist says in our waiting for the Lord, we must hope. The way Scripture talks about hope is not the same way the world talks about hope. The world’s hope is frail. It's quasi-confidence, with little to bank on other than chance. I hope the Bears win tonight. I hope I have studied enough. I hope life slows down soon.

But the Christian hope is not a shot in the dark. It is grounded not in sheer luck, but in a person. And not just any person, but Yahweh and Adonai Himself. God’s faithfulness (Yahweh) and God’s power (Adonai) remind us that our hopes aren’t hanging in the air. God not only hears us and forgives us but he has also given us his Word to form our hope.

He is worthy of being trusted with our hopes because he will do what he says he will do. His Word itself is power (Rom. 116), and therefore guarantees it.

4. God meets our world with redemption (Ps. 130:7-8)

The hope we're guaranteed is redemption. God’s faithfulness (Yahweh) and God’s power (Adonai) are not only applied to us in an individual sense but in a communal sense as well. Jesus Christ is your personal Lord and Savior, but he’s more than that. He is also our shared Lord and Savior.

Sin has affected us not only as individuals but also as a community. The Fall ushered in a host of fault lines and distortions in our hearts and in our world. But through the cross, redemption is available to those who trust in him.

And, get this: it’s coming for the world God’s people live in, too. There is “plentiful redemption” available to the community and the nation of Israel, an inside-out “making all things new” that we await (Rev. 21:5).

AND NOW WE WAIT

Waiting isn’t easy. No one said it would be, not even Jesus. “I do not ask that you take them out of the world” (Jn 17:15).

Jesus’s plan for our growth is not escaping or fleeing—it’s going through the refining fire. It’s being exposed of our inabilities, confessing our need for God, trusting that his Word is worthy of our hope, and anticipating the work he intends to do in us and around us. It’s all bound up in the psalmist’s words: “I wait for the LORD, my soul waits.”

Perhaps our best shot at living a life of gospel witness is to choose the way of waiting. To slow down and ignore the shortcuts, to stay the course and fight our sin, to hold fast to his Word, and to endure in the world he is making new. Like watchmen in the black of night, we know our task during the dark is hard, but the dawn of morning is on the way.

The waiting will be worth it.

---

Zach Barnhart currently serves as Student Pastor of Northlake Church in Lago Vista, TX. He holds a Bachelor of Science from Middle Tennessee State University and is currently studying at Midwestern Baptist Theological Seminary, seeking a Master of Theological Studies degree. He is married to his wife, Hannah. You can follow Zach on Twitter @zachbarnhart or check out his personal blog, Cultivated.

You Become What You Trust

Humans have always loved idols. Israel’s history shows us that no matter how many miraculous wonders we witness, our hearts will always elevate the created before the Creator (Rom.1:25). What began as statues to Baal, Asherah poles, and Greek temples, continues to permeate our culture. These days, our idols look a bit nobler—a spouse, children, happiness, comfort, health—but they enslave us just like the idols of old.

Our idols don’t just settle for helping us break the second commandment, they permeate much deeper in our lives. The Psalms tell us that those who trust idols will become like them (Ps. 135:18). We may not turn into stone and wood, but eventually, the idols of our heart can chip away at significant areas in our spiritual lives.

The idols we create are blind, deaf, and mute, and if we continue serving them, we’ll eventually become the same. If left undisturbed and ignored, we may begin to lose our own sight, become deaf to others, and render our speech useless to the surrounding world.

Blind to Our Sin

One of the first ways we become like our idols is in becoming blind to our own sin. If we are in Christ, we have been given a new heart (Ezek. 36:26) and our eyes are opened to the gospel, yet the temptation to turn back towards darkness endures. It’s why the author of Hebrews exhorted the church to take care that no one has an unbelieving heart, “leading you to fall away from the living God” (Heb. 3:12-13).

Each person, feeling, circumstance, or dream we hold up as more important than God is ultimately a declaration of unbelief. Our idols make us believe that God won’t satisfy more than our they can. Our idols make us think that God’s grace isn’t enough, so we must make our own rules. They make us think that seeking our own comfort is more worthwhile than seeking the Lord’s glory.

We may not say these truths out loud, but the subtle deceitfulness of sin (Heb. 3:13) will continue to feed our idols of unbelief, make excuses, and harden us to the sin we harbor. Some of us may continue to idolize health, blind to the ways we are trusting in our workouts to give us the peace that only God can give. Others may cloak our approval-seeking in righteous words like service or encouragement, but in reality, our idols stay hidden behind the sin we can’t see.

The trouble is, we can’t crush what we can’t see. This is where the passage in Hebrews gives us great hope. We must “exhort one another daily” (Heb. 3:13). Just as we could not open our eyes to Christ without his work, we need the Holy Spirit and Christ’s church to open our eyes to our blindness—even after salvation. It’s our brothers and sisters who can illuminate the darkness, and the Holy Spirit alone who can give us back our sight and put to death the idols of unbelief in our hearts.

Deaf to Our Brothers and Sisters

Our idols can make us become blind to our own sin, but they can also cause us to become deaf to our brothers and sisters in Christ. We see this played out in big and small ways in the church, whether it’s the prideful parent who refuses to seek any outside help, or the church member holding his politics so tightly that he can’t hear the concerns of a brother in Christ. Our strong opinions, steeped in the idolatry of self, can keep us so attuned to our own views that we can’t stop to give grace or charity to our dissenter.

But Christ calls us to something radical. He not only tells us to open our ears but to go even further by outdoing one another with honor (Rom. 12:10). We are told to bless those who hurt us, to be humble in our own eyes, and do what is honorable in the sight of all (Rom.12:14-17).

Beginning to knock down these idols begins by first finding the root. Where are we deaf to the concerns and wisdom of our brothers and sisters in Christ? What topics do we bristle at hearing a word of correction? Or what topics do we refuse to seek wisdom in?

You’ll likely have to ask a trusted brother or sister to help you see what you cannot. Of course, our brothers and sisters in these disagreements are sinners too, but Jesus tells us our first step is always to look upon our own sin (Matt. 7:3).

Mute to the World

Finally, our idols can mute our voice to the world around us, which fleshes out in two ways. The first is seen when our idols make us look exactly like the world around us. When we idolize comfort, a job, or happiness, we will inevitably be tossed into anxiety when these idols are not met. When the job is lost or life gets difficult, we will look no different than the unbeliever in the cubicle sitting right to us.

As Christians, however, our lives should look different because our hope is completely different. That doesn’t mean that we can’t feel stressed or experience difficulty, but it does mean that our priorities should look different than the unbelievers around us. When we continue to let the idols of our hearts take over, they rob us of the chance to preach a different and beautiful story to the world around us.

Secondly, our idols keep us from purposefully entering into the lives of those around us. Who has time to develop a relationship with a neighbor when we are too busy with our own projects? How do we encourage the woman behind us in the checkout when we are too concerned with our phone? The nature of man-made idols is that they must be maintained. We must keep feeding our need for approval, tone our body, multiply our entertainment—and when we do we are left with little time for else.

But again, Jesus calls us to something radical. We have a different mission than maintaining our idols. Instead, we are to give up our hold on everything in this world to gain everything in the beauty of Christ. We are to make disciples (Matt. 28:19-20) and to proclaim his name among the people God has put around us. And if we want to be ready to give an answer for the hope we have in Christ (1 Pt. 3:15), we must first clear away the idols that rob us of that voice.

Good News for Idolaters

While it’s painful to see the grip of idolatry, the good news is that we worship the God who stands above every idol. Just as the ancient statue of Dagon fell to the ground before the Ark of the Covenant, our own idols will fall prostrate before the true God of heaven (1 Sam. 5:2).

We don’t have to feel defeat but can seek out our idols so we can destroy them. We can stop to see what has been keeping us from speaking the gospel to those around us. We can ask God to show us where our ears have been closed to our family in Christ. And we can ask from the Holy Spirit and our brothers and sisters to help show us the sin we can’t see.

We may start to become like our idols, but it’s the power of the cross—the same power that raised Jesus from the dead—that gives us the power to crush them. Each day we can lean on the God who continues to breathe life and hope into our blind, deaf, and mute hearts.

---

Brianna Lambert is a wife and mom to three, making their home in the cornfields of Indiana. She loves using writing to work out the truths God is teaching her each day. She has contributed to various online publications such as Morning by Morning and Fathom magazine. You can find more of her writing paired with her husband’s photography at lookingtotheharvest.com.

The Way of Worship

There’s a story in the New Testament where Paul visits the great city of Athens. Like Oxford or Cambridge or Boston, Athens was a famous intellectual city, renowned for its history, its learning, and its contribution to culture. Athens was said to be the glory of Greece. And yet have you ever noticed Paul’s reaction when residing in this world-class city? Was Paul impressed with its intellect? Did he fall in love with its architecture? Was he amazed by their food?

Acts records that “his spirit was provoked within him as he saw that the city was full of idols” (17:16). Later he says to Athenians, in effect, “Look, I can see you are very religious. You have temples and rituals and statues all over the place. You are really into worship. But I’m telling you: you’re going about it in the wrong way” (see Acts 17:22–23). That’s why Paul was provoked in his spirit. He could see that no matter how spiritual or how smart or how sincere they may have been, they were worshiping God in a way that did not please him.

If the first of the ten commandments is against worshiping the wrong God, the second commandment is against worshiping God in the wrong way. The people in Athens were guilty of both. They were ignorant of the God who raised Jesus from the dead, and their approach to religion was not what the true God had prescribed.

Self-Willed Worship

Most generally, the second commandment forbids self-willed worship—worshiping God as we choose rather than as he demands. In particular, the second commandment makes two prohibitions: 1) We are not to make images to represent God in any form, and 2) We are not to worship images of any kind.

The second commandment does not intend to outlaw art or painting or aesthetic considerations. The tabernacle displayed angels and palm trees, the ark will have cherubim, and God himself gave the Spirit to Bezalel and Oholiab that they might be skilled artists and craftsmen. God is not against beauty. What he prohibits is infusing any object with spiritual efficacy, as if man-made artifacts can bring us closer to God, represent God, or establish communion with God.

The Old Testament is full of examples of God’s people using man-made artifacts for self-willed worship. The golden calf is the most famous example. Remember, Aaron proclaimed a feast to Yahweh, and the people declared that these were the gods who brought them up out of Egypt (Ex. 32:4–5). The Israelites weren’t worshiping Baal. They were trying to worship the Lord their God, but they were doing it in the wrong way. They were violating the second commandment.

At other times, the Israelites treated their religious symbols as though they had real religious powers. This too was a violation of the second commandment, turning the ark into some kind of talisman (1 Sam. 4:1–11) or treating the temple like a good luck charm (Jer. 7:1–15). We can do the same with church buildings or pulpits or the cross around our neck.

Like most of the Decalogue, the second commandment is not hard to understand. The what is fairly straightforward. The why and how take some more explanation. To that end, I want to give five reasons for the prohibitions in the second commandment.

No One Like Him

First, God is free. Once you have something to represent God or worship as if it were God, you undermine God’s freedom. We start to think we can bring God with us by carrying around a statue. Or we think we can manage God with the right rituals. Or we think he’ll be our benefactor if we simply pray in a certain direction or make an offering before a graven image. Anytime we make something in order to see God, or see something that stands in for God, we are undermining his freedom. God is Spirit, and he doesn’t have a body (John 4:24). It is not for us to make the invisible God visible.

Second, God is jealous. No image will capture God’s glory. Every man-made representation of the Divine will be so far less than God as to incite his jealousy. Think about it: the more chaste and pure a husband, the more his jealousy is aroused by an adulterous wife. God is supremely pure, and he cannot bear to share his glory with another, even if the other is a sincere attempt to represent (and not replace) the one true God. God is a being unto himself. In fact, he is being. His glory cannot be captured in a picture or an image or a form. That’s why even in Revelation when we have a vision of the One on the throne, he is “shown” to us in visual metaphors: lightning, rainbow, colors, sea, re, lamps, thrones, etc.

The world of the ancient Near East divinized everything. The Israelites divinized nothing—not Father Time or Mother Earth or the sun or the moon or the stars. The separation between God and his creation is one of the defining characteristics of biblical Christianity. Any human attempt to bridge that chasm is not only an attempt at the impossible but an affront to the unparalleled majesty of God.

Third, believing sight comes by sound. In the Bible, especially on this side of heaven, we see by hearing. As Deuteronomy later made clear, the Sinai experience was a paradigm for God’s self-revelation. When the Lord appeared to the people on the mountain out of the midst of re, Moses reminded them, “You heard the sound of words, but saw no form; there was only a voice” (Deut. 4:12). And because they saw no form, the Israelites were commanded not to corrupt themselves by making visible images (4:15ff.).

We make no apology for being Word-centered and words-centered. Faith comes by hearing (Rom. 10:17). That’s how God designed it because that’s how he has chosen to reveal himself. Christian worship is meant to be wordy and not a breathtaking visual display. If God wanted us to see him in worship, he would have presented himself differently in the Sinai theophany. The way God “showed up” to give the Ten Commandments says something about how we are to keep the Ten Commandments.

Fourth, God provides his own mediators. At their best, God’s people have employed images and icons not because they thought God could be housed in a marble bust, but in order to provide more intimate access to God. If God is in heaven, it makes sense that we would want a little portal for him here on earth.

But God’s people should know better. The saints in the Old Testament did not need to fashion an intermediary for themselves; God had already promised mediators through the prophets, priests, and kings. God had his own way to draw near to his people, culminating in a final Mediator who would embrace all three offices at once and pitch his tent among us (John 1:14).

Fifth, we don’t need to create images of God because he has already created them. The implications of Genesis 1:26–27 are staggering. We are the divinely chosen statues meant to show what God is like, created in his image and after his likeness. Idolatry diminishes God and diminishes us.

In Ezekiel 18:11–13, right in the middle of a host of horizontal, neighborly sins, is the mention of idolatry. Why? Because mistreating other people and worshiping idols have the same root: a violation of the divine image. In one case, we are looking for God’s image where it doesn’t exist (idolatry), and in the other case we are ignoring God’s image where it does exist (sins against our neighbors).

We are God’s statues in the world, marking out the planet as his and his alone. He does not need our help in making more images; he asks for our witness.

---

Content taken from The 10 Commandments: What They Mean, Why They Matter, and Why We Should Obey Them by Kevin DeYoung, ©2018. Used by permission of Crossway, a publishing ministry of Good News Publishers, Wheaton, Il 60187, www.crossway.org.

Kevin DeYoung (MDiv, Gordon-Conwell Theological Seminary) is the senior pastor at Christ Covenant Church in Matthews, North Carolina. He serves as board chairman of the Gospel Coalition and blogs at DeYoung, Restless, and Reformed. He is assistant professor of systematic theology at Reformed Theological Seminary (Charlotte) and a Ph.D. candidate at the University of Leicester. He is the author of several books, including Just Do Something; Crazy Busy; and The Biggest Story. Kevin and his wife, Trisha, have seven children.

You Have One Job

I know it’s coming. I’ve read it before. But maybe the story will be different this time. But alas, it’s not. It never is.

Genesis 3 always follows Genesis 1 and 2. It’s like watching a train wreck over and over again, and I’m a passive observer with the unfortunate privilege of being an eye-witness to chaos and destruction. Powerless to stop it but forced to watch.

If I had written Genesis 3, things would have gone differently. Adam would’ve done his job, protected his bride, resisted temptation, vanquished the serpent, and left a heroic legacy for the rest of mankind.

But I don’t get to rewrite the story because the story itself tells us its Author is perfect. He doesn’t make mistakes.

Sometimes, I need the story to correct me. That’s what Psalm 127 does. It doesn’t let me long for what could’ve been, but rather live wholly—and trustingly—in what is.

A Garden Psalm

One of fifteen Psalms of Ascent—a set of songs regularly sung by Hebrew pilgrims making their way to Jerusalem—Psalm 127 reminds pilgrims that in every aspect of our created reality, God can and should be trusted.

And that really is the point of the garden story in Genesis—that God can and should be trusted.

But we have a hard time trusting him, don’t we?

When viewed alongside Genesis, we discover that the 127^th psalm is a garden psalm. It reminds us of the origin story that set the assigned rhythms and responsibilities of human life. It’s a psalm about how life was intended to be lived, how we’ve fallen away, and how we can once again be brought back into God’s intended design.

Psalm 127 is a hope-filled corrective in a fallen world, a glimpse into how a garden life is once again possible because of the reality of redemption. Ours is a fallen world, yes, but living as we were intended is also possible, even in the midst of brokenness.

To help him (and us) live as intended, God gave Adam a three-fold job description in the garden, which is echoed in Psalm 127: work, protection, and multiplication.

The Dignity of Labor

God made it clear that humanity’s role on the earth included the responsibility of work:

“Fill the earth and subdue it and have dominion” (Gen. 1:28, emphasis added).

“The LORD God took the man and put him in the garden of Eden to work it . . .” (Gen. 2:15, emphasis added).

Work, labor, was not originally a toilsome thing, but as a result of the Fall, God cursed mankind’s labor with toil, making it a vanity, a chasing after the wind. It’s no wonder, then, that the psalmist says,

“Unless the Lord builds the house, those who build it labor in vain . . . It is in vain that you rise up early and go late to rest, eating the bread of anxious toil; for he gives to his beloved sleep.” —Psalm 127:1a, 2

Rather than working from our identity, we fallen humans tend to try to work for our identity.

This misplaced identity comes when the creator God—the original and primary Worker—is disconnected from our work. We work in our own strength and for our own purposes, so our work ends up defining who we are. Those who “rise up early and go late to rest” are enslaved to their own need for validation through accomplishment or success.

Humans were made to work for God. Divorced from this reality, we allow our work to define us rather than allowing God to define both us and our work. Work becomes toil when it’s disconnected from the God who “works in you, both to will and to work for his good pleasure” (Phil. 2:13).

Since God should be our defining reality, work—a good thing in itself—has a natural limit. Labor should not be all-encompassing. It shouldn’t consume us. Work’s natural end is God-protected rest: “for he gives to his beloved sleep.” This is the natural rhythm that God himself observed on the seventh day when he rested from all his labors (Gen. 2:1-3). Without this rhythm, we cannot live as God intended.

The Role of Vigilance

Adam’s second responsibility in the garden was protection: “The LORD God took the man and put him in the garden of Eden to work it and keep it” (Gen. 2:15, emphasis added). The Hebrew word translated as “keep” carries the idea of protection: Adam was to guard the garden. But from what? Hadn’t all of God’s creation been good?

From this language, it’s clear there’s an imminent threat, an Enemy at the gate. Adam’s job was to protect the garden from this insidious intruder.

Sadly, Adam wasn’t up for the task. He let his guard down and the intruder entered the garden, successfully tempted Eve, and Adam found himself falling into disobedience alongside her.

Psalm 127 echoes this protective responsibility with the image of the watchman:

“Unless the Lord watches over the city, the watchman stays awake in vain.” —Psalm 127:1b

We Americans are a people obsessed with security and safety. Unlike the ancient Israelites who lived with constant threats from nature, disease, and foreign armies, our days are passed in relative ease.

We’re shocked when our sense of peace is invaded by natural disasters, terrorism, or senseless acts of violence. We observe tragedy on the news, then quickly coddle ourselves back into a sense of safety. We pad our bank accounts, increase our insurance coverage, and buy safer cars. But without God’s protection, it’s all for naught.

Implied in the verse above is that the watchman is trusting in his own vigilance to bring safety. He is not trusting in God’s protection. This was Adam’s weakness as well: forgetting to trust in his guardian, the God who had created him. Adam failed to turn to God for help in his protective role, trusting instead in his own vigilance and power.

What would have happened if Adam (or Eve) had turned to God and cried out for help in that moment? We’ll never know.

There is only One who can truly protect us. We have one Shepherd who knows the number of hairs on our head. In our moments of greatest fear and anxiety, we must look to him. When we do, we live into the lives we were made for.

The Task of Multiplication

The final task assigned to our first parents was multiplication: “And God blessed them. And God said to them, ‘Be fruitful and multiply and fill the earth . . .’” (Gen. 1:28).

Psalm 127 echoes these blessings:

“Behold, children are a heritage from the Lord, the fruit of the womb a reward. Like arrows in the hand of a warrior are the children of one’s youth. Blessed is the man who fills his quiver with them! He shall not be put to shame when he speaks with his enemies in the gate.” —Psalm 127:3-5

Children naturally reflect the ones who bore them. This was God’s intention in calling humanity to multiply, that those made in his image were to “be fruitful and multiply and fill the earth” with his reflected glory (see Num. 14:21; Hab. 2:14). It’s an undeserved reward for men and women to join God in this glorious task.

When we partner with God in the work of multiplication, we’re pictured as warriors, armed with the arrows of proliferation. The enemy confronts each of us at the gates with the lie uttered since the garden: “You can’t trust God. He doesn’t love you. You aren’t blessed. He can’t use you.”

And yet in our work of multiplication—whether it be bearing and raising children or making spiritual children through disciples (see Matt. 28:18-20)—God uses us despite ourselves.

And like all human tasks, unless the Lord does his work, we remain fruitless, unequipped for the battle at hand and defeated by the lie. But equipped with our God-given arrows—the fruit of grace in our lives—we meet the enemy at the gates, ready and triumphant, just as we were intended.

You Had One Job

Adam had one job: to trust God. His sin was thinking he could work, protect, and multiply without God. Psalm 127 reminds us of our own similar tendency and calls us instead to a life of trust.

This kind of life is possible because there is one who did the job Adam couldn’t: Jesus. He boarded the train wreck of this world, bore its destructive consequences, and is putting it all back together.

We can’t rewrite the story, but Jesus has written it for us and redeemed the ending.

So instead of looking back at the garden and lamenting the Fall, we must look forward to Christ. We can trust what he has accomplished, rest in his finished work, and join him in the work he has for us.

Let’s meet our enemy at the gate with a ready answer: Our trust is in Christ, the Lord.

---

Mike Phay serves as Lead Pastor at FBC Prineville (Oregon) and as a Staff Writer at Gospel-Centered Discipleship. He has been married to Keri for over 21 years, and they have five amazing kids. You can follow him on Twitter (@mikephay) or check out his blog.

Giving Tuesday: The Biblical Principle Behind a Secular Holiday

As a child, Christmas Day was the one time of year I would gladly wake up early. My brother and I would slide down the banister (against my mother’s persistent commands not to) and race toward the Christmas tree. While we waited for my parents to wake up, we marveled at all the gifts, and we'd nudge the boxes to see if we could guess what was inside. I just knew Addy, the American Girl Doll I wanted, was waiting for me.

If I’m honest, Christmas was exciting because we knew we would get a lot of toys. And if we’re all honest, this is probably where our hearts naturally lean. We’re prone to focus more on what we can get rather than what we can give. But when the Bible talks about giving, it almost always places a strong emphasis on the heart of the giver and the blessing it is to give.

Even the world recognizes this truth, in some respects. Giving Tuesday is known as a global day of giving that seeks to “connect diverse groups of individuals, communities, and organizations around the world for one common purpose: to celebrate and encourage giving."

It’s wisely situated the Tuesday after Thanksgiving and right in the mix of Black Friday and Cyber Monday. It was started, in part, as a response to the consumeristic nature that marks the holiday season.  Though Giving Tuesday wasn't started as an explicitly Christian movement, it gets at the heart of Jesus’ words that “it is more blessed to give than to receive” (Acts 20:35).

THE BIBLICAL PRINCIPLE BEHIND GIVING TUESDAY

If that principle is true, then both giving and receiving are good things. But if you had to choose one, Scripture says it’s better to give.

Do we really believe this, though? Our natural inclination is to hold on to what God has given us. We may wrongly assume that because God has given us wisdom, wealth, or influence, those are ours to use for our comfort on this side of glory.

While our natural inclination may be to withhold, God has given us our time, talents, and treasures to be a blessing to others. When God promised Abraham that he would be the father of many nations and that his descendants would be as vast as the stars in the sky, he ends his promise by saying “all the peoples on earth will be blessed through [him]” (Gen. 12:3).

God was not just blessing Abraham so that he would accrue wealth, status, and influence (although he did have those). God was blessing Abraham so that he would be a blessing to the world. God’s blessing Abraham was not an end in itself. It was the means by which God would bless others.

Giving Tuesday is beautiful in its attempt to fight against our natural inclination to get more during the holiday (and every) season. Instead of asking how we might get our children, spouse, or friends the latest and greatest gifts, maybe we should ask how we can give to those that can give nothing back to us? Perhaps we should be asking how we can serve, love, and care for those on the margins of our society? Giving Tuesday campaigns provide spaces to answer these questions and to turn our questions into actions in the context of community.

GIVING IN COMMUNITY

In the west, we often view giving as an individual act. In December, my husband and I write our end-of-the-year donations to the nonprofits we support, and we usually pray for their work during this time. This is good, appropriate, and necessary, but Giving Tuesday has challenged me in the communal effort and impact of giving.

Giving Tuesday emphasizes whole communities that are working together toward causes that impact their cities through their “community campaign." In Charlotte, NC, the SHARE Charlotte community campaign raised $7 million for 235 Charlotte nonprofits in 2017. There’s something beautiful about collaborative community efforts that seek to push back the effects of sin in small ways.

We see similar efforts in God’s Word. In 2 Cor. 8-9, Paul exhorts the churches in Corinth to continue to give their resources to the persecuted saints in Jerusalem. This petition was not an uncommon practice for Paul (see 1 Cor. 16:1–4; 2 Cor. 8:1–9:15; Rom. 15:25). Throughout his letters, we learn that Paul raised money among Gentile churches for Jewish believers. Paul's efforts were evidence of God’s grace to his people since they historically did not get along.

In the case of Paul’s letters, these were groups of people (local churches) that were giving together for the good of God’s people in other locations and the advancement of his Kingdom.

Furthermore, these examples show us there is more than one way to give. Some may provide financially, like the Corinthians church’s offering to the believers in Jerusalem. Others, like Paul, may give of their time by volunteering with an organization. And some may provide talents they have to offer.

Whether you are giving your time, talents, or treasures, what might it look like for our generosity to exceed writing individual checks at the end of the year to include tangibly working alongside others to help the weak?

WHERE GIVING TUESDAY FALLS SHORT

In the SHARE Charlotte Giving Tuesday campaign video, a woman said they wanted to give people an easy way to do good. Giving Tuesday is a good and noble cause, but it falls short where many good works that are done apart from Christ fall short.

God does not just care about what we do, he also cares about why we do it. It’s not enough to give our time, talents, and treasures. The motive behind our giving matters.

The motivation of the Christian’s giving should be different. We are generous stewards because Christ has been generous to us. The God of the universe, who was rich in every regard, generously made himself poor so that we might become rich. “For you know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though he was rich, yet for your sake he became poor, so that you by his poverty might become rich.” (2 Cor. 8:9).

GIVING IS WHO WE ARE

If there ever was good work, this is it—Jesus Christ laying down your life for his people (John 15:13). So, when we give, it is not just out of a motivation to do good. When we are generous to others, it’s because the most magnificent and undeserved gift has been given to us—salvation in Jesus Christ. It is from this salvation that our generosity flows.

Because of what Christ has done for us, Christians give beyond Giving Tuesday. Giving is not just what we do; giving is who we are.

We give because of what, in Christ, has been given to us. We give because we know that it is better to give than to receive. We give because, he who did not spare his own Son will, in him, graciously give us all things (Rom 8:32).

---

SharDavia “Shar” Walker lives in Atlanta, GA with her husband Paul. She serves on staff with Campus Outreach, an interdenominational college ministry, and enjoys sharing her faith and discipling college women to be Christian leaders. Shar is a writer and a speaker and is currently pursuing an M.A. in Christian Studies at Southeastern Baptist Theological Seminary.

Learning to Live in This Home Away from Home

If you’re a Christian, you’re a miracle. Your conversion was a restoration of fortunes, a miraculous release from captivity, and a joyful homecoming. With God, there are no “boring” testimonies. But over time, life gets boring. We wonder how we lost that lovin’ feeling. We want the good times back. More than that, we want a future of greater glory.

Israel anticipated the hopeful restoration of Zion. But they didn’t just hope for a prosperous city—they looked forward to a reigning king, their promised Messiah.

They looked forward to the time when, after the anticipation and the hope, after the promises and the prophecies, Jesus comes. He lives and dies and rises again to save his people from their sins.

But that’s not the end of the story. The Bible concludes not with a deep sigh of rest but cries out in desperate anticipation, “Come, Lord Jesus!” (Rev. 22:20). God’s people aren’t home just yet.

Such is the tone of Psalm 126, a psalm of ascent, filled with what was and longing for what will one day be.

LONGING FOR BETTER DAYS

Even without knowing much of the context, it’s easy to see that Psalm 126 speaks of an Israelite restoration so grand that even the surrounding nations remembered it (Ps. 126:2-3). Maybe it was their return from exile in Babylon. Maybe something else.

Whatever it was, it was like a dream (Ps.126:1). It was the happy day from which all others orbited, evoking laughter and joy, like Job after his suffering (Job 42:10). And the psalmist wanted another hopeful and joyous restoration.

Christians recognize this feeling of elation. Like the conversion experience or a season of personal revival, spiritual restoration awakens zeal for the gospel. These brief moments can stick in our memories for a lifetime, and if you’re like me, are ones to which your heart longs to return.

The psalmist understood that longing. The Lord had done great things for the people of God, and they were glad (Ps. 126:3). But that gladness faded, as it tends to do.  We need more than memories of great things done. We need the hope of great things to come.

NOSTALGIA ROAD

An initial reading of this psalm can leave the reader with the impression that nostalgia weighed the psalmist down—like remembering “the good ole days” that are now long gone. But that’s not quite the tone.

Nostalgia takes us half-way home; it takes us back to the place of our former blessing, but it can’t take us to future hope. Like the glory days of old, only God can take us to that blessed shore. Only God can gather us together with lasting joy, like Israel bringing in plenty during the harvest (Ps. 126:5-6).

“Nostalgia” first appeared as a word in the 1770s, springing from the combination of the Greek words nostos, meaning “homecoming,” and algos, meaning “pain.” In the 1800s, encyclopedias of medicine listed nostalgia as a disease: “severe homesickness.”

Isn’t that what we all are, to some degree or another? Homesick.

Israel sure was, even at home. So are we. We’re homesick for God, for what only he can provide. We’re homesick for final freedom, forgiveness, refuge, victory, and peace.

Christians live in a world that looks like home without the satisfaction of home. As C.S. Lewis said, “If we find ourselves with a desire that nothing in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that we were made for another world.” Made for another world, indeed. But we’re in this one now, and we must learn to live here.

LEARNING TO LIVE HERE

Far from a disease bringing one down, the memory of Psalm 126 causes the careful reader to swell with hope. Today may not be like yesterday, but God doesn’t intend to take us back to what was. He intends to bring us forward to what will one day be.

The Garden of Eden was a pointer to—not the culmination of—the glory to come. God’s gift of your future is better than the varied gifts of your past. In the end, even all the revivals of history will pale in comparison to the great revival coming on the clouds. Walking with Jesus is a journey of hope!

So Psalm 126 is not a great and longing sigh as much as it is the first verse of a new and hopeful song. Yes, there is a plea for restoration (Ps. 126:4), but it’s not a cry of desperation. It’s a cry of expectation. It’s a cry for God to do it again, grounded in faith that he will.

The lesson is that learning to live here is more than coping with a happy memory, it’s rejoicing in a coming glory. That doesn’t mean homesickness is easier to bear. It means, given to Christ, nostalgia points us homeward to glory rather than backward to the Garden.

Jesus reverses nostalgia’s direction. With him, as good as our past was, the best is yet to come.

THE GARDEN OF GRACE

However, the glory to come doesn't make the present angst disappear. Life is full of disappointments. So God gave us the Psalms—as Tim Keller says[i]—to pray your tears (Ps. 126:5-6).

No single event of blessing is enough to sustain us forever. We forget. We weaken. We falter. We fall.

We need a resurrection hope. That's why God sent his Sower to sow gospel seeds into our lives (Mark 4:1-20). But that seed doesn't grow instantly. Cultivating takes time we don’t often want to spend. It takes watering when we don’t want to. It takes, in a word, maturing.

Learning to pray our tears is the maturing process by which we prepare for a greater harvest. Psalm 126:5-6 promises “those who sow in tears shall reap with shouts of joy! He who goes out weeping, bearing the seed for sowing, shall come home with shouts of joy, bringing his sheaves with him.” As we weep toward God, he takes our tears and plants them in his garden of grace. They take root and grow. But the harvest comes later—as late as the resurrection.

SHOUTS OF JOY

I imagine Mary Magdalene and the other Mary on their way to the tomb of Jesus, weeping as they walk. What a joy it was to know him, to be by his side as he taught, as he healed, as he filled the world with happiness and hope. But that was yesterday. Today, their tears are with him in the grave, buried in the ground.

As they approach the garden tomb, the earth quakes and the stone rolls away. Someone stands before them. His appearance is like lightning. His clothing is white as snow. He seems to know their tears. “Do not be afraid, for I know that you seek Jesus who was crucified. He is not here, for he has risen.”

Could it be? Then behold—he appears and says, “Greetings!”

They fall and worship. Then they rise and go, to tell his disciples that they too will see him. (Matt. 28:1-10).

In other words, they’re coming home with shouts of joy (Ps. 126:6).

NO MORE TEARS

Sally Lloyd-Jones captures this joyful mood in The Jesus Storybook Bible. Mary runs,

And it seemed to her that morning, as she ran, almost as if the whole world had been made anew, almost as if the whole world was singing for joy—the trees, tiny sounds in the grass, the birds . . . her heart.

Was God really making everything sad come untrue? Was he making even death come untrue?

She couldn’t wait to tell Jesus’ friends. ‘They won’t believe it!’ she laughed.

She laughed. Oh, she laughed!

Her mouth was filled with laughter (Ps. 126:2) because the Lord had done great things for her (Ps. 126:3). But not only for her. The Lord had done great things for all his people, for all his friends, for all of us.

Those great things of the resurrection came by way of death. That’s the Christian life: first the cross, then the crown. It's the planting that produces the harvest, the death that produces life. As Jesus said, “Truly, truly, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit” (John 12:24).

Jesus is the proof that buried hope grows into glorious reality. The tears of the cross bore the fruit of the resurrection. He went out weeping, bearing his life for sowing; he came home with sheaves (Ps. 126:6), bringing many sons to glory (Heb. 2:10).

COMING HOME TO A BETTER STORY

Israel’s story was a good one, but a better one was yet to come. And there’s a better one coming for us, as well.

One day, the Lord will restore our fortunes—untarnished communion with him, coram deo. The first earth will pass away, and the holy city, the New Jerusalem, will come down out of heaven, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband.

We will receive our glorified bodies on the new heaven and new earth. On that great and glorious day, God will say to all his people, “Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man” (Rev. 21:1-4). He will wipe every tear from our eyes, and death shall be no more!

No more mourning. No more crying. No more pain.

The former things will have passed away.

We’ll finally be home.

---

David McLemore is an elder at Refuge Church in Franklin, Tennessee. He also works for a large healthcare corporation where he manages an application development department. He is married to Sarah, and they have three sons. Read more of David’s writing on his blog, Things of the Sort.

[i] Timothy J. Keller, “Praying Our Tears,” February 27, 2000, City Life Church, Boston, sermon, The Timothy Keller Sermon Archive.

Suffering Doesn’t Have to Keep You from Giving Thanks

“How’s Jesus treating you today?” I asked her, taking a seat at her bedside. Hospice had recently brought in a hospital bed to make it easier to help her in and out. That word—hospice—signaled to all of us that in the eyes of medicine, the end was near. It was just a matter of time.

To most people, it didn’t seem like Jesus was treating her well at all. But she saw things differently.

It took her a moment to answer. Her mind was alert, but her speech had been severely impaired by the pressure of the tumor in her brain. “I know Jesus loves me,” she said, “because he sent you to visit me.”

HUNGRY FOR GRACE

Amid suffering, her eyes had become finely attuned to recognize the grace of God. My friend was on her deathbed, yet she had the clearest sight of anyone I knew.

She was so hungry for grace that she was ready to recognize and receive any gift that came her way. She could easily have rejected the little gifts—like me of all things!—because they weren’t the gifts she really wanted (like healing and wholeness).

She had become adept at recognizing streams in the desert. Her context of disease, suffering, and impending death did not deaden—but rather, amplified—her ability to receive the grace God was lavishly pouring out on her. How is this possible?

HOW GRATITUDE IS CONNECTED TO SPIRITUAL HEALTH

In Romans 1, The Apostle Paul connects gratitude to spiritual health:

"For although they knew God, they did not honor him as God or give thanks to him, but they became futile in their thinking, and their foolish hearts were darkened. Claiming to be wise, they became fools, and exchanged the glory of the immortal God for images" (Rom. 1:21-23, emphasis added)

Spiritual decay begins when God is no longer recognized as the gift giver. When we separate God from his gifts, the gifts eventually take his place. Ceasing to give thanks is the beginning of this long downward spiral away from God. Ingratitude leads to spiritual death.

On the other hand, gratitude leads to spiritual vitality. Show me a grateful person and I’ll show you someone who is growing spiritually. Gratitude—hunting for grace and saying “thank you” when you find it—is a discipleship issue. A life of following Jesus should be increasingly marked by gratitude.

THANKSGIVING IN THE CRUCIBLE

The first followers of Jesus took it as a given that discipleship is worked out in the furnace of suffering. Peter reminded his flocks to “not be surprised at the fiery trial when it comes upon you to test you, as though something strange were happening to you” (1 Pet. 4:12). Jesus himself promised a crucible, not a coddling, for those who follow him (see John 15:18-20).

This difficult setting for a life of discipleship isn’t obvious to all because a tension exists in our mind between gratitude and suffering. We find it difficult to believe that a young mother dying of cancer could find anything to be grateful for. We wonder at her ability to draw closer to her Savior at the same time she draws closer to her death.

Scripture, however, reminds us that gratitude best finds its meaning in the face of suffering. Thanksgiving regularly holds hands with lament, a reality understood by the psalmists. Over half of the psalms include lament—or giving voice to the reality that human life is regularly marked by the presence of suffering—such as:

“Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you in turmoil within me? Hope in God; for I shall again praise him, my salvation and my God” (Psalm 42:5, 11; 43:5).

In light of who God is—“my salvation and my God”—the downcast poet calls himself to hope amid turmoil, to rejoice amid tears, and to give thanks amid lament. Gratitude must come even, or perhaps especially, when it doesn’t make sense; a reality understood by Abraham Lincoln.

WHY THANKSGIVING IS CONNECTED TO LAMENT

On October 3, 1863, Abraham Lincoln issued the famous Thanksgiving Proclamation, marking the last Thursday of November as a national day of prayer and repentance. He wrote this proclamation at the height of the Civil War, within two weeks of one of the bloodiest battles in American History.

The juxtaposition of thanksgiving and tragedy doesn’t seem to make sense. But Lincoln understood the deep connection between gratitude and lament. He saw gratitude as lament’s counterbalance and knew that the way forward for a broken nation would somehow walk the narrow road between the two. Neither could be left out, for thanksgiving without lament would become naive optimism, and lament without thanksgiving would degenerate into hopeless cynicism.

Thanksgiving makes true lament possible because it anchors tragedy, brokenness, illness, pain, and suffering in the person of God. Without God, lament can never find resolution or meaning because it’s detached from an object: someone to whom we can lament. Thanksgiving is the formational practice of thanking that very same Person, providing a relational context where Godward lament makes sense.

PRACTICE THANKSGIVING

A life of following Jesus is a life increasingly marked by gratitude. If you want to become more like Jesus, say “thank you” more often. “Give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you,” wrote Paul (1 Thess. 5:18). But how?

The foundational work of thanksgiving is to hunt high and low for grace and, having found it, to say “thank you” for it. We can train ourselves to “give thanks in all circumstances” by implementing habits of gratitude, such as:

Say “thank you” more than “you’re welcome.” Jesus called his disciples to exercise hospitality toward those we wouldn’t normally invite to our table, especially those who can’t repay us (Luke 14:12-14). In this instance, it would be easy to see ourselves in the role of benefactors: giving freely from our abundance. But what if Jesus wanted us to see that even in our acts of generosity we should have eyes to see grace coming towards us rather than going out from us? Even in our generosity, God is the one extending undeserved grace to us: “…and you will be blessed” (Luke 14:14).

Say “thank you” for difficult things. God is constantly trying to train us to see his hand in all things. We are at risk of missing his work when we limit the ways we think he can act. That flat tire you had when you were already running late for work? Say “thank you.” The conflict at work that keeps you up at night? Say “thank you.” Could you even say “thank you” for a marriage on the rocks? For losing your job? For a cancer diagnosis? James would say so: “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” (Jas. 1:2-4).

Say “thank you” to others regularly. Write thank you cards. Speak words of affirmation. Making saying “thank you” a regular practice. As you practice saying thanking those around you, you will find yourself regularly on the hunt for grace in the lives of others. Not only that, but you will teach others to say “thank you” when they may never have thought to do so.

Keep a running “thank you” list and review it regularly. This is one of the easiest ways to train yourself to hunt for grace: every morning (or evening), write down at least one thing you’re grateful for. At family meals, rehearse aloud even the smallest graces of God—warm food, shelter, sleep, chocolate, good music, friends. Finding things to be grateful for in the mundane is the training ground for grateful disciples.

GRATEFUL FOR GOD’S GRACE

Gratitude is a recognition and affirmation of the grace of God. There can be no spiritual maturity without thankfulness.

As you pursue a life of discipleship, practice saying thank you in the mundane things, in the difficult things, and even in the unexpected situations. The Thanksgiving holiday is a great time to start.

May you find yourself—even when despair seems right—inadvertently and unconsciously “giving thanks in all circumstances” to a God who is constantly pouring his grace out on you.

---

Mike Phay serves as Lead Pastor at FBC Prineville (Oregon) and as a Staff Writer at Gospel-Centered Discipleship. He has been married to Keri for over 21 years, and they have five amazing kids. You can follow him on Twitter (@mikephay) or check out his blog.

God Has You Surrounded

Bad guys often have good vision. In Tolkien’s The Lord of The Rings, Sauron’s all-seeing eye gazes throughout Mordor. In Harry Potter stories, “he who shall not be named” sees through horcruxes what other characters cannot see. Villains who have the ability to see far and wide make others uneasy. Just think if there was someone who could see all you do on a daily basis--talk about nervous!

When we see a lot, we are reminded of how small we are. We are struck by the fact our vision is limited. I grew up on a hill, and although the field leading to the top of the hill was no fun to climb, the view from the top was a treat. I could see adjacent hills for miles. It was hard to tell where one stopped and another started.

Standing there looking out, I was reminded of my smallness. However, sensing God's omnipresence, his ability to see everything and be present everywhere, didn't make me feel uneasy. It brought me joy.

A FIRM FOUNDATION

When Israel climbed those hills to meet with God, they too were struck by God’s vastness and nearness. The promise of God’s presence brought hope to the Jews when they wandered through the wilderness and were exiled to Babylon. The fact that the Lord was with the exilic Jews in Persia was a source of hope to draw on.

Psalm 125 compares faithful Israelites who trust the God who surrounds them to the stability of the hill. Those who trust God—whose presence is with them—become fixed, unmoving. They are the people of God built on a firm foundation. The Psalm says, like Mount Zion, those who trust the Lord are unshaken, like a hill (Ps. 125:1). And unless you live near a fault line, hills don’t move very often!

Psalm 125’s composer is contemplating a vast landscape of hills surrounding the holy city. Jerusalem is built where David conquered the Jebusites and, likely, where Abraham offered up his son, Isaac. Jerusalem is where Solomon built the atop a hill. And Psalm 125 dreams of a celebratory day—like other glorious moments in Israel’s history—when evil is vanquished and peace dwells in the land, an unmoving rock amidst an army of rolling hills. (Ps. 125:5).

Yet the psalmist's most important claim is that the stability of the nation depends on their stable and unchanging God. Our stability depends on trusting him, too. His vastness to uphold nations doesn’t overshadow his nearness to his people.

The psalmist envisions that the ones who trust in the Lord remain unshaken. Those who trust the Lord abide forever (Ps. 125:2). Like a healthy branch that must stay connected to the vine for nourishment, the Christian life demands we trust God as the only place for true stability (John 15:4-7).

When we are tossed by circumstance, we are invited to trust in the abiding love of God. When we continue trusting the Lord, despite ensuing chaos, we can experience real joy. Jesus promises that when we abide in him, his joy can be in us and that kind of joy is full! (John 15:11).

Enduring hardship takes us deeper and deeper into realizing the love of God in Christ. When trouble comes, stand your ground like a hill. Hills don’t lean on themselves. Hills rest upon the terrain around them. Just as hills encircle Mount Zion (Ps. 125:2), God is around us, holding us up, supporting us. When we could be shaken, we rest in his stability—not our own.

THE GOD WHO IS EVERYWHERE

The omnipresence of God, which the psalmist is well aware of, is compared to all the hills surrounding the Temple Mount, “the Lord surrounds his people, both now and forever” (Ps. 125:2). The people of God still know that the Lord is present everywhere, all the time. And that means he is here with us now.

What’s better is that our God promises he will not only be with us today but his presence will not shift tomorrow. To be present everywhere means you can’t take a day off and go somewhere else. If he can only be present everywhere, there’s nowhere for him to leave to. No space for vacation. This is good news for our hearts and our minds.

God surrounds you. He sees your frustration and, by the presence of his Holy Spirit in your life, brings comfort to it (John 14:16). He sees your anxiety and he mediates peace to you (John 14:27). God’s omnipresence is good news. He steps into our shattered existence. The people of God realize God is here. More than a notion though, the people of God get to rejoice in his good and faithful presence.

Israel longed to celebrate with the Messiah who would shatter his enemies. The wicked scepter they knew would be overtaken by a righteous one (Ps. 125:3). His righteous sword would shatter the rod of the enemy. The best fight scene in cinema has nothing on the clash the Bible paints of God wiping out his adversary.

God will win and restore. The exiles wanted the restoration of Jerusalem. You and I long for a day when what’s upside-down in our cultural moment no longer rages in our land. When shootings cease. When racism subsides. When abuse stops.

Because the promise of Scripture is that the power of death, hell, and the flesh were defeated at the cross, the wickedness and injustice we see in the land will be finally vanquished (1 Cor. 15:26).

God is not only fully aware of the brokenness we experience, he valiantly steps into the fray as the God-man Jesus Christ. Righteous among the unrighteousness. Freedom among bondage. Peace among chaos.

TRUST BRINGS STABILITY

The psalm operates as a prayer for the Israelites: “Do good, O Lord, to those who are good, and to those who are upright in their hearts!” (Ps. 125:5). But we know that we’re not good. We get frustrated when someone cuts us off on the highway. Our inboxes preach that we lack some diligence.

We know our very natures are tainted. Total depravity means we have a bent towards doing what’s wrong (Rom. 3:23). And God sees all of our sins! He sees our missteps. His omnipresence necessarily entails that he is always among us when we get short with each other. When we waste time that could be used for his glory, he’s there. While we stumble and fall, he’s present.

The promise of the end of this psalm, though, shows us that we can approach God in our brokenness and ask him to keep us stable. When we trust the Lord, he will steady us. The psalmist is clear that those who trust in the Lord receive stability.

We are finite. God is not. We are fickle. God is not. In all our messiness, are we trusting in ourselves or trusting in our God?

A PEACEFUL CELEBRATION

When I visited Jerusalem a few years ago, I saw a nighttime celebration.  Kids giggled and ran down the street while twenty-somethings proudly paraded blue flags around. They danced in the streets. I think the psalmist is envisioning a dance party like this—a celebration of peace.

In Scripture, God brought peace to Israel many times. Psalm 125 is hopefully looking towards the day when shalom will come to Israel (Ps. 125:5). God will lead evil away from his city and peace will be restored.  Israel looked forward to the restoration of stability.

Through the gospel, we know that God sovereignly saves us from our wickedness (Rom. 5:6). The way we used to walk led toward destruction (Matt. 7:13; Prov. 14:12). But because of God’s peaceful takeover of our lives, we walk on a new path (Matt. 7:14).

The good news is the Messiah has come and he has brought stability to chaos. For those that trust the Lord, the Holy Spirit guides us among our brokenness (John 16:13). The God who sees all and knows all continues to walk with us despite our mess.

His omnipresence doesn’t mean he is too busy elsewhere to be near you. His vastness shouldn’t make us uneasy. Rather, it’s a comfort. The God of the Bible—who sees everything—is simply asking us to trust him.

---

Zak Tharp (@zaktharp12) is an editor, writer, and lay pastor, pursuing an M. Div at The Southern Baptist Theological Seminary in Louisville, KY. He grew up in rural East Texas and received an undergraduate degree in Communication Studies at Stephen F. Austin State University. He enjoys coffee, hammocks, theology, and seeing people savor Jesus! He has served in camp ministry and as an intern at Fredonia Hill Baptist Church in Nacogdoches, TX.