January 31: Mark 10

Today's reading.

This passage shows the many ways that the gospel of the kingdom runs counter to the wisdom of this age.

10:1-12 — In God's kingdom, marriage is not about personal fulfillment, convenience, or even building stable communities. It is about our Father's will for us and our loving obedience to him as his children. May or hearts not be hardened to God's purpose and plan for marriage; may we not be like spoiled children who join what should not be and separate what God has brought together.

10:13-31 — God's kingdom belongs, not to the rich, powerful and influential of this age, but to those who are like little children. It is for those who humble themselves and come to Christ as children of our heavenly Father, rather than for those who would lift themselves up as fine upstanding citizens who have kept the moral law for all to see. This seems impossible to us, because we tend to believe that God will be pleased with us if we clean up a bit. But Jesus says, "many who are first will be last, and the last first" (10:31).

10:32-45 — That is why it's funny that James and John want to be first. Jesus tells his disciples for the third time in the book of Mark that he is going to die, but James and John want the seat of honor in God's kingdom. Can you handle what I'm about to go through? Jesus asks. Remember what I just said: "And they will mock him and spit on him, and flog him and kill him" (10:34). James and John say they can take it, but clearly they think Jesus is headed for glory, not criminal execution. But jockeying for position is not the way to greatness in God's kingdom: "whoever would be great among you must be your servant, and whoever would be first among you must be slave of all" (10:43-44). Want to be president? Clean a few toilets. Want to run the show in heaven? Bind yourself as a willing slave to Christ.

10:46-52 — Finally, the annoying homeless guy on the side of the road is the one who has the faith to be made well. There are hundreds of people probably crowding around Jesus, and none of them are annoying enough to get Jesus's attention, but the Lord turns to the one the whole crowd is trying to shut up. His prayer, "Son of David, have mercy on me," is the prayer of a child of the kingdom.

How does the gospel of the kingdom run counter to your thinking today? How do you find yourself seeking to be served rather than to serve? Or despising the children or the weak or the poor when Jesus so often lifts them up? Or trying to clean yourself up rather than approaching Christ in humility and faith?

To paraphrase Jesus's statement in 10:9, don't try to right what God has made upside down. Christ Jesus came in weakness and ultimately died to bring about God's kingdom. If we would come to him, we'll have to let God flip us on our heads, so to speak, and quit trying to cling to our dignity. In God's kingdom, we die in order to live.

January 30: Psalm 13

Today's reading.

The introductory note to this chapter says "To the choirmaster." Presumably, this psalm was sung as a part of worship in OT Israel, and, like all the rest of the psalms, has been sung by the church for two millennia. The thing that I find surprising about that is it's a real downer of a song.

"How long, O LORD?" The first two verses are simply questions directed at God. Where are you? When will you save me? Where is your grace? 

Can you picture singing lines like that at church this morning? 

He asks the Lord to respond in the next two verses. He brings his requests, despite the fact that he is downtrodden and feeling defeated. He feels as though the Lord is far off, but he maintains a quiet faith that knows he needs God's light "lest I sleep the sleep of death" (13:3). 

Apart from the steadfast love of the Lord (13:5), we would all sleep the sleep of death. But because of God's steadfast love to us as it's been so generously poured out on us in Christ, we no longer fear death. Death has no power over us; because Christ slept that sleep for us, “Death is swallowed up in victory” (1 Cor. 15:54).

In Christ, we can say, even in our lowest moments and most difficult times, "my heart shall rejoice in your salvation" (13:5). In our seemingly darkest hour, even at the threshold of death itself, in Christ we can pray with the psalmist, "I will sing to the LORD, because he has dealt bountifully with me" (13:6). The Lord has dealt bountifully with us. In Christ, we have received "every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places" (Eph. 1:3), have been blessed with "the riches of his grace" (Eph. 1:7), have received an inheritance (Eph. 1:11, 14) we otherwise could never hope to obtain.

God's steadfast, ever-present love is with us. It may not always feel that way, but it is always reason enough to sing. 

January 29: Mark 9

Today's reading.

The last chapter closed with the disciples seeing more clearly that Jesus is the Son of God. In this chapter, three of Jesus's closest friends get to see it in a way no one has seen it thus far. Jesus is transfigured before them and has a chat with Moses and Elijah, two men who at this point have been dead for thousands and hundreds of years, respectively. If they had any misgivings about Jesus being the Son of God until now, those doubts should be burned away by the radiance of Christ's shining robes.

The book of Marks opened with a declaration of the fact that Jesus is God's Son (1:1). The Father has said this to Jesus's followers once before at his baptism (1:11). All the demons that they've encountered thus far seem to get it (3:11; 5:7). Now the Father says it to Jesus's closest disciples in the presence of Israel's law-giver and greatest prophet (9:7). Moses and Elijah are like advisers in the court of King Jesus, and all Peter can think to say is, "I'm glad we came" (9:5).

There is so much to unpack and meditate upon in the rest of this passage: Jesus's restatement that he will have to die and rise again (9:30-32); what does it mean to be great in God's kingdom (9:33-37); what should holiness look like among Christ's followers (9:42-50). But I can't move past this chapter without dwelling upon my favorite prayer in all Scripture.

"Immediately the father of the child cried out  and said, 'I believe; help my unbelief!'" (9:24). 

This is one prayer I find myself coming back to over and over again. It says, "I know what's true about God. I know that nothing is too hard for him, that he can do whatever he desires. I can dot my theological I's and cross my religious observing T's. But everything inside my rebellious heart wants to doubt you, Lord. Belief is too much for me; faithfulness is beyond me. Apart from your power I cannot obey. Without your grace, I can't follow you. I believe; help my unbelief!" 

I prayed this prayer yesterday as I was tempted to doubt God's goodness when it comes to our finances. The reality is that God has provided time and again, and I know (in my head) that he will continue to do so. But my sinful heart wants to be independent. I'd rather not rely on my heavenly Father for financial support. I want to be self-reliant. I want to move out of my Father's house and pay rent on my own for a change.

As I struggled through these temptations, I came to the end of myself. I can't do it. I can't obey on my own. I am unwilling to follow Jesus on my own strength. It's not the prayer of a weakling, but that of every disciple who struggles to throw him/herself upon God's mercy. "I believe; help my unbelief." 

Friday Prayer

Good Friday morning, all. Take the time to catch up on any reading you may have missed this week, pray, and reflect. Below is a short prayer to help in that purpose.

Almighty God, give us grace that we may cast away the works of darkness, and put upon us the armour of light, now in the time of this mortal life, in which thy Son Jesus Christ came to visit us in great humility; that in the last day, when he shall come again in his glorious majesty to judge both the quick & the dead, we may rise to the life immortal, through him who liveth & reigneth with thee and the Holy Ghost, now and ever. Amen

January is nearly done! We're nearly one month into our reading plan. Thank you for taking the time to get into God's Word together. It is a blessing to do this with you all.

January 27: Psalm 12

Psalm 12 is an interesting one.

The psalmist is disheartened because "the faithful have vanished from among the children of man" (12:1). Can you empathize? Do you ever feel as though you are alone or in a distinct minority in believing what you do? In striving to be pure in some way? 

In this case, it is "flattering lips and a double heart" (12:2) that characterizes the speech of the psalmist's neighbors. He can trust no one near him; everyone speaks lies and misuses the gift of speech. In fact, his enemies are sinfully using their tongues to gain power over others (12:4).

In that moment, when you see others sinning in a way that you do not, are you prone to self-righteousness? Do you find yourself lifting yourself above others? All too often that's my reaction. I want to take matters into my own hands. I want to see justice done. I want to be proven better than those around me. 

That was never Jesus's attitude. Even when he hung on the cross as people used their lips to mock and curse him, he never turned an angry or vengeful word toward them. He prayed for their forgiveness.

I think Christ could do that because the Lord had said he would come to the aid of the needy and oppressed (12:5), and because God's words are always trustworthy: "The words of the LORD are pure words, like silver refined in a furnace on the ground, purified seven times" (12:6). Jesus could cling to God's promise of help and justice because his Word is pure, right, true. 

If my Father's words are all those things, how can I model my words after his? How can I be more a son of my Father by speaking his words after him, by keeping my speech pure and in line with Scripture? "Vileness" may be "exalted among the children of man" (12:8), but I am a child of God. How can I honor him in my speech today?

January 26: Mark 8

Mark 8 is an extremely pivotal moment in the book.

The book's introduction is important to remember. It is "the gospel of Jesus Christ, the Son of God" (1:1), and Jesus summarizes his gospel message in that first chapter by saying, “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God is at hand; repent and believe in the gospel” (1:15). This Kingdom is present on earth in Christ himself and his gospel. And the meaning of the Kingdom is coming into sharper focus in Mark 8.

First, Jesus needs to help his own disciples see who he is, which, so far, they have been slow to get. He feeds another 4,000 people (8:1-10), and then, after a brief encounter with the Pharisees (8:11-13), warns his disciples against them (8:15). But the disciples are thick; they can't get their minds off their stomachs (8:16). You can almost hear frustration in Jesus's voice in his response to their block-headedness (8:17-21). "Do you not yet understand?" he asks them. "How could I miraculously feed so many thousands if I were a mere man? Don't you get it? Don't you remember my baptism (1:11)? I'm the SON OF GOD!!!"

Jesus's healing of the blind man at Bethsaida illutrates the disciples' gradual understanding of who Christ is. He begins to heal the man's sight, then Jesus finishes the job and the man can see clearly. And it seems as though this physical illustration of his disciples' slowly receiving spiritual sight clicks a light bulb on above Peter's head. Who does Peter say Jesus is? "You are the Christ" (8:29). Now he can finally see clearly. Till now, seeing Jesus has been like seeing walking trees rather than people. Now, Jesus's Messiah-ship comes into plain view for them. He is the Christ!

And now that they get it, Jesus breaks the bad news of the coming days to them: "the Son of Man must  suffer many things and  be rejected by the elders and the chief priests and the scribes and be killed, and  after three days rise again" (8:31). Peter's having none of it. No Jesus, you're the Christ, I said. You get on a white horse, ride into Jerusalem, slay God's enemies, and establish the throne of David once and for all. But the Lord doesn't mince words; that right there is devil talk (8:33).

Now comes the difficult unveiling of the application of his gospel message: "If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake and the gospel’s will save it" (8:34-35). Lose your life to save it. Give up on your self-aggrandizing dreams; give up your self-worth and self-saving schemes. The rest of this book of the Bible is the fulfillment of Jesus's words here. To bring the kingdom to fruition, to bring the good news of God's redemption to all people, he will have to be led like a lamb to the slaughter.

Follow me, Jesus says. Follow me down death row. Follow me in self-denial, humiliation and service. Follow me to the cross.

January 25: Psalm 11

Psalm 11 is short and sweet. Perfect for my birthday passage. :)

There is no place on earth that the psalmist believes is safe. When faced with the danger of the wicked, he is told by others (who are no doubt just trying to help), "Head for the hills! Run away! The wicked are coming!" (11:1-3). But he has no confidence in the safety of earthly strongholds; he puts no stock in fallout shelters or savings accounts to deliver him from his troubles. He boldly begins his psalm: "In the LORD I take refuge" (11:1). 

Why does he take refuge (safety, comfort, shelter) in the Lord? Because he is "in his holy temple" (11:4), enthroned on the cherubim (Psalm 80:1), seated in his place of royalty to survey all that goes on in his domain. Nothing escapes his view; "his eyelids test the children of man." 

The psalmist hears the message of this world—that he'd better save himself, that he'd better watch his back since no one else will—and responds with faith-filled confidence in who God is. It may look as if the righteous are at the mercy of the wicked (11:3), but really the Lord "hates the wicked and the one who loves violence" (11:5), and he will judge them according to their deeds (11:6).

"For the LORD is righteous; he loves righteous deeds; the upright shall behold his face" (11:7). Does the psalmist turn from worldly wisdom to confidence in his own righteousness, trusting that God will bless him on account of his own obedience? No. No sinful man or woman could ever pray this final prayer about themselves. This verse points to Christ. The Lord is righteous and loves righteous deeds, but none of us could measure up to the word "upright." We are not upright on our own, but are no better off than the wicked. No, the upright are those who take refuge in the Lord (11:1), those who confidently trust that God is gracious and will be gracious toward them on account of the saving work of his Son, Jesus. 

Jesus Christ is the only person in all history of whom it could be said, "the upright shall behold his face." He could have kept that uprightness to himself, but he graciously, miraculously, humbly, gloriously poured out his own upright blood at that cross for our sakes. There is nothing upright in you or I, but in Christ we shall behold the face of the Lord. I need to put my trust in the Lord today, placing my confidence in his love for me in Christ. There is nothing and no one else in all the world to trust. 

Desperate for Jesus Crumbs (Mark 7)

Mark 7 tells of my favorite example of faith in all four gospels, the Gentile woman from Tyre and Sidon (modern-day Lebanon) (7:24-30). Jesus has travelled a bit north of where God's people live. We don't know why he went to the Gentile region, but it is important to understand the fact that religion is very much in view in their exchange. This woman is a pagan, a foreigner, someone who does not know the God of Israel. Jesus tells her, "Let the children be fed first," meaning Israel, God's chosen people. Then he calls her a dog: "for it is not right to take the children’s [Israel's] bread and throw it to the dogs [Gentiles, namely YOU!]" (7:27). The Jewish rabbi calls the dirty Gentile a dog, not because Jesus is a racist, but because he has been sent to the lost sheep of Israel (Matt. 10:6; 15:24). God's children, his people, are in Israel. This woman doesn't know Jesus's Heavenly Father.

That is why her faith is so incredible. This poor woman has never heard of God's promises—she has no part in them. She's never been told of God's law—she's geographically removed from anyplace where she could hear it. She knows nothing of a coming Messiah, and so ought to expect to have no part with him. Now the Messiah is standing before her, and he—as would be expected of any good Jewish rabbi—calls her a dog. She is "without hope and without God in the world" (Eph. 2:12), and Jesus is sure to point it out. 

The woman summons every ounce of strength to suppress her outrage, so desperate is she to have her daughter healed. She knows this man is the only one who can help. She doesn't argue. Doesn't fight. Doesn't claim that Gentiles have been known to discover a truth or two about the world. She accepts Jesus's assessment of her situation, embraces her desperation, freely loses her life, her social standing, any last claim to dignity she could possibly have, and blurts out, "Yes, Lord; yet even the dogs under the table eat the children’s crumbs” (7:28).

So profound a faith defies description. She acknowledges her destitution before the Messiah, admits to having no standing before him, but nevertheless pleads for help. She throws herself on the mercy of the Lord himself, prays that he would let her, a mere dog, scrape a few morsels from under Israel's table. "I know. I'm a dog. But could you find it in your heart to let me lick the floor beneath your feet?"

James 4:6 says that God "gives grace to the humble." Before we can expect to find mercy, we have to know that we need it Where do you find yourself in need of God's mercy? Throw yourself upon it. Cling to this gracious promise. Look to the Lord Jesus and his grace and lay yourself at his feet. Go to Christ in humility, and he will give you grace.

Out of Sight, Out of Mind (Psalm 10)

Psalm 10 gives us insight into the unrepentant mind. Verse 4 tells us that all the thoughts of the wicked are, "There is no God." He doesn't mean this literalistically; unrepentant people don't walk down the street thinking, "there is no God, there is no God, there is no God," like an atheistic little engine that could. He means that every one of the wicked's thoughts spring from the premise that God is not there—or at least that he isn't looking (10:11).

It is because of this foundational assumption that the wicked are able to do all that they do: oppression, boasting, theft, murder are all made possible by the belief that God is not there. Which means that in those moments when you and I slip into sin, we are slipping back into the same pagan way of thinking. God doesn't really care if I'm always kind to everyone. He isn't concerned that I should really be patient or forgiving (at least not in that circumstance). When we take God's mercy for granted—when we let his holiness and hatred for sin go unnoticed in our hearts—the result must be sin. Oppression. Murder.

Yet, though they thumb their nose at God, the wicked inevitably find themselves in positions of power and influence. Their way always seems to prosper (10:5). When we see that, something inside us can't help crying foul.

We live in a world full of injustice that we can't put right on our own. The psalmist recognizes this. And he tells us that God can and will set things right in the end: "O LORD, you hear the desire of the afflicted; you will strengthen their heart; you will incline your ear to do justice to the fatherless and the oppressed, so that man who is of the earth may strike terror no more" (10:17-18).

Faith in God's justice keeps me from seeking my own satisfaction here and now. It provides me the wherewithal to endure suffering and injustice in this life. It gives me the internal strength to embrace the position of the poor or oppressed, because I know that ultimately God will come to my aid. And I know that most truly because Christ himself came as a poor man, was oppressed till his dying day, and on the third day God the Father miraculously came to his aid. In Christ, God HAS come to my aid, and that proves he WILL come to my aid again. If I suffer injustice now, I'm getting a small taste of what it's like to wear my Savior's shoes. In the light of eternity, this momentary affliction looks surprisingly small. It almost even looks like a privilege.

Responding to Jesus (Mark 6)

In Mark 6, there are multiple groups of people who are given the opportunity to respond to Jesus and his message. 

In Nazareth (6:1-6), where Jesus grew up, the people think they know Jesus, think they know who he is. So when He starts speaking like the Son of God, they say to one another, "isn't this the carpenter's son? Where does he get off?" They are offended because Jesus refuses to fit inside their box.

When Jesus sends out his disciples to preach his good news (6:7-13) like a King sending out his messengers, he gives them instructions on what to do when people reject or receive them. If you're rejected, shake the dust off your shoes; not even the dirt of that town will have a part in Jesus's kingdom! If you're received, on the other hand, stay with those people until you decide to move on; those who welcome the messengers of the kingdom will receive the blessing of having that kingdom's ambassadors stay under their own roof. 

Herod (6:14-29) has a response to the gospel message similar to the one I'm tempted to have. He doesn't like the call to obedience. Herod wants to hear the gospel, but doesn't want to respond to it: "When he heard him, he was greatly perplexed, and yet he heard him gladly" (6:20). This halfway Christianity leads Herod to choose his worldly standing over justice (6:26), and he has John murdered in order to save face. 

In the feeding of the 5,000 (6:30-44), the people respond to Jesus in faith; they had to trust that he would provide, or else they would grow faint and possibly even die in that desolate place. They had to sit down in groups of 50 or 100, and it takes a faith that believes Jesus can and will provide to even sit down next to my neighbor, expecting some sort of meal to come. The crowd responds in faith even though the Twelve do not. 

When Jesus walks on the water (6:45-52), his disciples respond in disbelief and fear. "And they were utterly astounded, for they did not understand about the loaves, but their hearts were hardened" (6:51-52). They would not, could not yet believe that Jesus is God. But he isn't done with them yet. 

6:53-56 deals with the response of the people of Gennesaret. In contrast to Nazareth, these people receive Jesus with gladness. In fact, when he landed nearby, people RAN to him (6:55) and confidently pleaded with him to heal their sick (6:56).

Spiritually, I want to be a Gennesaret man. I want to respond to the good news of the kingdom with confident prayer to the Lord for my every need. I want to know that God in Christ has fulfilled my greatest need, and so I should have no trouble at all relying on him completely to fill my fridge and heal my body. The  good news of the kingdom says that in Christ I am reconciled to God. The Lord who feeds thousands and walks on the storm and covers my sin with his blood is able to give me whatever I ask. I need only respond in expectant, childlike faith that my Lord is faithful and good. Do I believe that today?

A Friday Prayer

It's Friday again. Time to take another day off from reading to catch up, reflect, and thank God for his gracious Word. I've included a prayer from the Valley of Vision below to reflect on. It's in old-style English, but it is powerful.


Thou incomprehenisble but prayer-hearing God,
Known, but beyond knowledge,
revealed, but unrevealed,
my wants and welfare draw me to thee,
for thou has never said, 'Seek ye me in vain.'
To thee I come in my difficulties, necessities, distresses;
possess me with thyself,
with a spirit of grace and supplication,
with a prayerful attitude of mind,
with access into warmth of fellowship,
so that in the ordinary concerns of life my thoughts and desires may rise to thee,
and in habitual devotion I may find a resource that will soothe my sorrows,
sanctify my successes,
and qualify me in all ways for dealings with my fellow men.

I bless thee that thou hast made me capable of knowing thee, the author of being,
of resembling thee, the perfection of all excellency,
of enjoying thee, the source of all happiness.
O God, attend me in every part of my arduous and trying pilgrimage;
I need the same counsel, defense, comfort I found at my beginning.
Let my religion be more obvious to my conscience
more perceptible to those around.
While Jesus is representing me in heaven, may I reflect him on earth,
While he pleads my cause, may I show forth his praise.

Continue the gentleness of they goodness towards me,
And whether I wake or sleep, let they presence go with me,
thy blessing attend me.
Thou hast led me on and I have found thy promises true,
I have been sorrowful, but thou hast been my help,
fearful, but thou hast delivered me,
despairing, but thou has lifted me up.
Thy vows are every upon me,
And I praise thee, O God.

God's Wide-Angle Lens (Psalm 9)

In reading Psalm 9, I was struck by how simultaneously wide and narrow the authors' perspective is.

It begins with a personal "I" responding to God with "my whole heart" (9:1). The camera comes in for a closeup on me and my response. BUT what I am responding to are ALL God's wonderful deeds. With just one line, the camera bolts from one individual to take in the panorama of the universe itself.

Throughout, David rapidly changes perspective, one minute speaking of his own troubles, the next of every nation on the earth. Whether God is being called on to deal with David's personal enemies (9:3) or kingdoms and empires (9:5-6), God is seated upon his throne (9:4, 7-8). The might and power of the Most High is taken into full account as he seeks justice on the earth and in his circumstances.

But then suddenly, "the Lord is a stronghold for the oppressed" (9:9), and the psalmist has reminded us again that God is concerned, not only with the judgment of kings and generals, but with the preservation of the lowest of the low. We've gone from the heavenly throne room to the gutter without so much as a conjunction. And while such things are so far apart in our minds, the Lord is intimately aware of the details of both.

He can confidently pray, "Be gracious to ME!" (9:13), because "the LORD has made himself known" (9:16), in judgment toward the wicked (9:15-17), but in mercy and grace toward the poor and oppressed (9:18). David humbles himself before the Lord, acknowledging his spiritual poverty, and taking comfort in God's love toward the needy.

His prayer to God at the end to "Arise!" (9:19) is a request that God set everything right, in the entire world as well as his own personal situation. God has no problem setting his gaze upon the whole universe and your innermost thoughts all at once. His camera can catch both angles without trouble.

Am I humble enough to acknowledge this? To let God be great and over all things, but over my life as well? Failure to humble myself before him puts me in the camp of the wicked who will be judged. Humbling myself before the Lord in faith identifies me with my meek and humble Savior who came as one of the oppressed so that he could be enthroned on a cross and then in the heavens to judge the whole world. Christ is my refuge if I humble myself and recognize my spiritual poverty, my desperate need for him and his riches. And when I realize his promise to remember the needy, I can't help but join in singing, "I will be glad and exult in you; I will sing praise to your name, O Most High" (9:2).

February Reading Plan

Here is the reading plan for next month! We will get to finish Mark, continue in Psalms, and begin the book of Genesis. We'll be in Genesis for a little while, but it is such a rich and engaging narrative, that I hope it won't seem like such a long time. And as you can see, we'll be doing back-to-back readings in Genesis to make it actually not take such a long time. 

I love being in the Word with you all. I am praying for us as we engage God's Word, that we will be changed by it and learn from it how to glorify Him more. Blessings to all of you!

Jesus Is Scary (Mark 5)

In Mark 5, everyone is afraid of Jesus.

The guy who freaks everyone else out is freaked out by Jesus. The demon possessed man lives in a graveyard, breaks chains when bound by them, and spends his days howling and cutting himself with stones. But when Jesus appears, he falls at His feet (5:6).

Jesus scares demons for crying out loud. And not just a demon, but a legion of demons; anywhere between 4,000 and 6,000 of them. There are thousands of demons possessing one unsubdueable guy; Jesus shows up and they start pleading with Him, "I beg you, don't torture me!" (5:7, NLT). He let's the demons go into a herd of pigs, and the formerly possessed man is in his right mind now, perhaps for the first time in years.

Then the townspeople show up, and they don't throw Jesus the ticker tape parade we would expect. They too "were afraid" (5:15). Why? Well, Jesus has somehow subdued the guy who used to talk in demon voices!

Jesus is scary. He's too scary for these folks. Their response to God's kingdom as it's coming to them in Christ brings the joy of the scene to a stunning halt: "And they began to beg Jesus to depart from their region" (5:17). These people don't mind a distant, fearsome God, they don't mind a cuddly, guru Messiah, but they have no taste for a Savior who IS God incarnate. When we really come face to face with Jesus, we come face to face with someone far more terrible than 6,000 demons. We come face to face with the awful transcendence of the Almighty Himself.

As we look to worship in our reading today, we need to ask if we fear Jesus. If we don't, then we don't really worship Him. We only worship persons greater than ourselves. If I think I can subdue Christ into my own personal Jesus, I don't worship him; I turn him into a terrier.

Jesus isn't my lap dog. He's my Creator. He's more than that, but he isn't less. If I don't let that truth sink in, then I won't worship him, and I won't let him tell me what to do. Part of worship is letting Jesus tell me what to do. If I am going to repent and believe the good news (Mark 1:15), I have to let Jesus tell me how to live "my" life. The only other response I can have is to beg Jesus to go away. If I'm really going to be a Christian, I have to face a fearsome Jesus and let him have the control of my life I don't have, but so desperately grasp after. Then, and only then, can I hear him telling me gently, "Do not fear, only believe" (5:36).

January 18: Psalm 8

Psalm 8's first two verses make no sense next to each other. God's majesty is proclaimed, and then it says He uses infants to "still the enemy and the avenger." On the face of it, there is nothing majestic about the weakest of people (babies) silencing God's enemies. Is there?

David understands his own weakness and the weakness of all humanity when taking in the wonder and power of the divine: "what is man that you are mindful of him?" (8:4). Have you ever seen something that was so wonderful—the stars, the mountains, the ocean—so beyond you that you couldn't help but feel small? Insignificant? A pale brushstroke on the canvas of God's creation? David sees the stars (8:3), considers the God who made them, and realizes how not God he is.

He goes on to explain some of what he said in verse 2. God has given dominion over all creation to mere humanity. We rule it all, sheep, oxen, birds, fish, everything. As God's image bearers, we have the call to "rule the earth and subdue it" (Gen. 1:26-30). David marvels at the idea that you and I—such weak, imperfect, fallible creatures—would be entrusted by God to govern his world. God in his majesty gives lowly humanity the high calling to rule his majestic creation.

But this psalm is not simply about God entrusting the world to his image bearers. It's ultimately about God's truest Image Bearer.

How does God silence his enemies? By sending his Son as the weakest of the weak, the lowest of the low. Christ is born in a manger, lives the humble life of a peasant carpenter, is beaten and nailed to a cross like a criminal, and it is BECAUSE of all that, Paul says in Philippians, that Jesus has been given the name that is above every name, that at his name every knee everywhere will bow before him (Phil. 2:6-11). God uses the weakest thing imaginable—a poor man wrongly accused and publicly executed—to silence his enemies (8:2).

Today we can sing with the psalmist, "O LORD, our Lord, how majestic is your name in all the earth!" (8:1, 9), because that majestic Lord became a babe himself to deliver us from the enemies of sin, Satan, hell and death. We worship a God who is simultaneously majestic and humble, glorious and meek, powerful and weak. God Himself weakened Himself for you and for me. And it is because of that that we can sing praises to his majestic name.

January 17: Mark 4

How does Mark 4 lead us to worship?

The chapter opens with one the parable of the sower. He speaks of four kinds of soil: path, shallow, thorny and good. Satan steals the seed (word) that lands on the path; it never even sinks in, but vanishes without a trace. The shallow soil is... shallow. It looks like the gospel will bear fruit in this person's life, but since there is no depth, there is no lasting fruit. The thorny soil doesn't produce fruit because the cares and worries of this life are allowed to choke the gospel out before it can really bear fruit. And the good soil is good! It reflects a life of love and worship.

We all know we want to be the good soil. But if we're honest, we often fall into the first three kinds. How many times have you heard the Word of God and failed to let it sink in in the least? You read the Bible, but really your eyes are just looking at black lines on a page. Or do you find your understanding of the Word to be shallow in some way so that it is not able to bear fruit? And how many times have we all found ourselves distracted by all the worries of this life—money, career, relationships, comfort—and fail to live for Christ as a result?

When I go to God's Word (in song, sermon, prayer or personal reading), I am in danger of not letting that Word bear fruit. The proper fruit of the Word is a life lived in total worship. How often do I simply go through motions? Fail to let it get deep in my soul? Focus on the concerns of this world rather than the Lord who made it?

I feel most convicted of being thorny soil. I am so very much like the disciples in the boat (4:35-41). My prayers (or my justifications for not praying) so often come in the accusatory mode: "don't you are that I'm perishing? Look at the wind and the waves! Look at my bank account! Look at my friends' unfaithfulness or the injustices of my neighbor/family/coworker! Look at what I'm facing! Don't you care that I'm perishing?" I tend to believe that my circumstances justify my own unfruitfulness, my faithlessness.

Jesus is good and bears with us in our weakness. He could have ridden out the storm and let his friends sweat. But he wants to put the Word that says he is faithful on display for them. "Peace, be still." He quiets the storm, then marvels at our lack of faith. The wind and sea obey him. Why not us?

Whatever thorns or storms we face, our Lord can put them to rest. And if he chooses not to, he can speak peace over our souls. Let's worship with all that we are Christ Jesus who IS faithful.

January 16: Psalm 7

Today's reading is here.

For close to a year now, I have made it a habit to pray the Psalms. They are beautiful, God-focused, full of truth and comfort. But there are times that I come across verses in the Psalms that I just don't feel comfortable praying.

Verse 8 in today's passage is one such verse: "judge me, O LORD, according to my righteousness and according to the integrity that is in me." I will attempt to pray a psalm like this and then come to a verse like this and find myself saying, "no Lord, please DON'T judge me according to my righteousness!" Why is it in there, then? Is our understanding of our own inability to be righteous before God by our own works fundamentally flawed?

King David was the first one to pray this psalm. He wrote it. On the one hand, David was a man after God's own heart, a man who put his confidence in the Lord in such a way that he conquered Goliath and led armies in battle against God's enemies. He was a much more faithful man than I will ever be.

On the other hand, if David prayed this prayer with his own righteousness in view, then God did indeed answer his prayer. After David slept with Bathsheba and then had her husband killed to cover it up, God told him there would be consequences. The fact that "God is a righteous judge, and a God who feels indignation every day" (7:11) became clear to David when his newborn son with Bathsheba died and later when another of his sons tried to overthrow his rule. David's violence descended upon his own skull (7:16).

But David's Son, Christ Jesus, could pray that prayer based on his own works. In his life, Christ was perfectly upright, perfectly obedient. He alone could unreservedly pray that God was his shield (7:10).

What makes me worship God today is that in the gospel, I am IN Christ, and so can pray WITH Christ, "O LORD my God, in you do I take refuge" (7:1). On my own, I have every expectation that God has whet his sword against me. In Christ, God's justice will never be directed against me. I am innocent of all charges because I am clothed in Christ's innocence. And that GLORIOUS fact makes me worship the Lord with David: "I will give to the LORD the thanks due to his righteousness, and I will sing praise to the name of the LORD, the Most High" (7:17).

January 15: Mark 3

Please read about Jesus in Mark 3.

We're focusing this week on reading Scripture as an act of worship. How do you see Christ more clearly in this passage? How does seeing him better make you worship?

I think this passage shows us that Jesus is both merciful and holy, and shows his enemies to be neither. Everything and everyone we want to worship other than Jesus never satisfies, but our Lord is fully mercy and holiness all at once. That should make us worship him.

The religious leaders at this time had very strict rules regarding the Sabbath. There were lists and lists of dos and don'ts. Women weren't even supposed to look in the mirror for fear that they would be tempted to pluck out their grey hairs, and we all know that plucking grey hair is serious work. The religious leaders were concerned with holiness, but they worshiped holiness and left out mercy.

Jesus, who is Lord of the Sabbath (Mark 2:28), asks what the point of the Sabbath is (3:1-6)? Is it to worship holiness—and do so by unthinkingly following a set of "holy" dos and don'ts—or to worship the Lord of holiness? That same holy Lord said that he was, "merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness" (Ex. 34:6). Jesus shows that he IS that Lord by showing mercy to the man with a withered hand on the Sabbath. Our God is merciful!  Worship Him!

But the religious leaders thought this act of kindness meant that Jesus did not take holiness seriously. They said he was able to cast out demons because he himself was possessed by the devil (3:22). They didn't get it. The kingdom of God was at hand! Jesus wasn't filled with Satan, but was anointed with the Holy Spirit (Mark 1:10)! Jesus was holiness incarnate, standing in their midst, and the religious leaders desecrated the Holy of Holies by calling the Spirit by Satan's name (3:29-30).

We worship a Lord who is fully merciful but completely holy. Many in our world want an all merciful (never judging) God. Some of us with a more legalistic wiring (yours truly) want an all holy God who only shows mercy to those who deserve it. But Christ Jesus is greater and far beyond any of our silly, petty idolatries. Whatever trait we may be inclined to worship, we are called to worship, not the trait, but the Son of God who possesses them both in full and equal measure. Let's worship our Lord who is holy and pursues justice, but who is full of mercy and forgives wretches like us.

Scripture Reading as Worship

Today is our day off. Take this opportunity to catch up on any reading you missed, and pray and reflect on what we've read this week.

I thought it might be helpful to share a thought on studying Scripture in general on these Friday day offs. Nothing major or heady, just something to get our juices flowing and appetites for God's Word growing.

When we go to the Bible, we go to God's own Word. The God who owns everything is talking to you when you open that Book. If you had the chance to have a one-on-one conversation with Bill Gates or the President or (insert your hero here), you would hang on their words, hoping to gain some bit of insight that they've gained in their pursuit of success. The richest, most powerful Person in the universe is addressing us personally in the pages of Scripture. We do well to pay attention.

But this Almighty One is not simply someone we should listen to. He's Someone who has given all for you. Christ laid down His life for us, and the Bible is first and foremost about Him. We see God in his most profound, generous love in His Word, for in it we learn of his perfect love for us in Christ.

So reading Scripture should not be a chore. It should not be something we do merely for information or study. Reading Scripture is an act of worship. It must be for the Christian. How can we see Christ so plainly in the Word and not worship him?

I like what one writer says of the Word: "It is one thing to read the Bible... and another thing to search it that I may become acquainted with God in Christ." For us who have been bought by Christ's blood, becoming acquainted with Christ means worshiping him. The old saying is only really true of Christ: To know Him is to love Him.

In the coming week, let's focus our reading on seeing Christ and worshiping Him. That will be my focus in my reflections. I hope it is something we'll all get to learn to do better together.

January 13: Psalm 6

Please read today's passage, Psalm 6, before you read what I have to say about it. Just want to be clear that I am writing about the Word, but the Word is far more powerful and true than anything I could ever say about it.

How is this psalm about Jesus? Of course, it is about the psalmist being bummed out and telling God about it. But Jesus says that the Scriptures always point to him (John 5:39).

To the degree that the writer of this psalm suffered, Jesus endured worse. Jesus wept, he suffered pain, lost all his friends, was surrounded by enemies to his dying breath. Jesus's life was one great "how long?" (6:3), that in the end was met only with silence.

The psalmist desired to be delivered from Sheol, the grave, but this same desire could not be satisfied in Christ. His prayer, "let this cup pass from me," was left unanswered.

And while the psalmist could say, "All my enemies shall be ashamed and greatly troubled" (6:10), he could not say it absolutely. If these enemies turned to God in repentance, their shame would become their glory—God is merciful and steadfast in his love. But Christ, and Christ alone could say, without qualification, that his enemies would be put to shame, for he is THE way, truth and life. Those who remain his enemies have nothing but great trouble to look forward to.

And it's only because three days later Jesus prayed, "The LORD has heard my plea; the LORD accepts my prayer" (6:9), that we can say the same prayer in his name. The Lord accepts our prayer because he accepts Christ, our righteous Savior.

Whatever I pray for, I can have confidence that I am heard on account of Christ (John 14:13-14). No one and nothing can change that. It is an eternal reality sealed in Jesus's blood (and tears).

January 12: Mark 2

The healing of the paralytic in Mark 2(:1-12) is well known. I've read the story a hundred times, but today something caught my attention. The crowd was pressing in hard on Jesus, because he was "preaching the word to them" (2:2). Jesus was being mobbed because he was preaching, and his message was "repent and believe in the gospel" (1:15). The crowd's perspective was right: Jesus had the words of true life, and they were climbing on top of one another just to hear them. 

The fact that Jesus says to the paralytic, "your sins are forgiven," probably tells us something about the sermon Jesus was preaching. Jesus wasn't just telling the crowd to "repent," but was promising forgiveness too. And here he had the chance to make his preaching come alive with a real life example. "This man's sins are forgiven; the kingdom of God is at hand!" 

The Pharisees try to rain on Jesus's gracious parade, but he'll have none of it. His question to them (2:9) is rhetorical: of course it's easier to say "your sins are forgiven" because you can't see that. It's a lot harder to tell a lame man to get up and walk when there's a crowd, because they're going to expect something to happen. But he proves forgiveness with the miracle. The point isn't the miracle, but what the miracle points to: sin is forgiven! 

Forgiveness often feels humdrum to me. Miracles are rare, but forgiveness is always waiting for you. But Jesus's miracles flow from and point to forgiveness. Sin ruined the world and made miraculous healing necessary in the first place. Sin is THE problem at the root of all others. I can get caught up in fixing the surface problems in my life—bank account, kids' behavior, marital disharmony—but forget that what creates these problems is sin. And sin's antidote is Jesus. 

At the end of everything, Jesus will set everything right and heal all the paralytics because he has taken care of sin. "He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away" (Rev. 21:4). The former things are tainted by sin (and I live in the midst of them), but Jesus is "making all things new" (Rev. 21:5), and that started with forgiveness. 

I am forgiven. And in some way, that's connected to the elimination of cancer, the establishment of perfect social justice, the eradication of economic scarcity, the end of war, famine, disease and death. None of that could be possible without forgiveness. All is certain because of it. 

January 11: Psalm 5

As I read Psalm 5, I was reminded of the fact that, in my sin, I am an arrogant absolutist. 

I like to divide the world into black and white. Person A is a good person, someone who likes me, has done nice things for me, with whom I generally agree, someone I enjoy being around. Person B, on the other hand, has sinned against me, bothers me, has different interests than me, a different background. In my sin, I want to categorize everyone I know in Person A and B columns, and then make sure all my neighbors are Person As and avoid Person Bs as much as possible. 

So, when I come to a passage like Psalm 5, my sinful temptation is to pray of the Person Bs in the world, "Make them bear their guilt, O God; let them fall by their own counsels" (5:10). When I'm in a really bad place, I can put faces and names to those I wish God would judge. I want me and all the Person As in my world to "take refuge in" the Lord and "rejoice" (5:11), but want no Person Bs invited to my holy party. 

My soul is black, as black as soot. My heart and God's heart are worlds apart on this point. Because, while I am content to cheer God on as he pours out his wrath against the wicked, our gracious Lord is NOT content to stop there. Had he my heart, you and I and all humanity would have been swept away in judgment long ago. 

But it struck me as I read this that when I cheer on God's wrath, I am cheering on the suffering and death of Christ. I want a front row seat to witness the cosmic squashing of my enemies (or just those I am not terribly fond of), but God would rather BE squashed than squash. He would rather take the full brunt of his justice on our behalf than let his rebellious creatures "bear their guilt." When I perversely desire a person be struck down by the justice of the Lord, I am really desiring the Lord Jesus be brutally killed; he took all God's justice for us. The more severe divine justice is, the more awful Christ's suffering for us. 

Our God is gracious and merciful, as he says in Ezekiel 33:11, "As I live, declares the Lord GOD, I have no pleasure in the death of the wicked, but that the wicked turn from his way and live." God's heart is vastly different than mine. Perhaps someday He will teach me to delight in what He does. But so often, I'd rather cling to my perverse sense of justice than rejoice in His mercy. Thank God I'm not God. 

January 10: Mark 1

We've officially moved on now from Colossians to Mark, beginning in Mark 1. It may not seem like much, but I find it exciting to think we all have read through one book of the Bible together. Praise God.

The opening of a book is crucial to understanding the whole thing (hence this post will be a little longer than normal so we can set up the rest of our reading). Mark is laying out in this first chapter many important themes that will carry significance throughout his biography of Jesus. I can't even come close to pointing out every one of them here—one (short!) commentary I looked at had forty pages on this chapter alone. Don't worry, I'll spare you all that. 

The most crucial theme Mark emphasizes here is the subject of this whole blog: the gospel of Jesus Christ, the Son of God (1:1). The word "gospel" occurs 12 times in the four gospels, half of which are in Mark (the shortest gospel), and half of the occurrences of "gospel" in Mark are in this chapter. In other words, Mark is really focused on the gospel here. And that comes through in who uses the word.

Mark says that Jesus proclaimed the gospel of God, "saying, 'The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God is at hand; repent and believe in the gospel'" (1:14-15). Jesus's announcement of the good news (gospel) was that the time had come (at last!), that God's kingdom was here. Maybe the question that comes to my mind comes to yours too: WHERE is the kingdom?

John the Baptist had come before, preparing the way for the kingdom (1:2-8), God himself had commissioned Jesus, declaring before many witnesses that this was His Son (1:9-11), Jesus had withstood the temptations to stray from his divine mission (1:12-13), and now he was preaching about the kingdom (1:14-15). 

After Mark gives the definitive statement of Jesus's gospel message, he describes some of the first acts in his ministry, calling disciples to himself, healing many, casting out demons and preaching. Still, where is the kingdom?

God's kingdom—his righteous rule in the world—was standing there, in the flesh, giving a sermon (isn't it weird that God rules through the Word? Then again, he did create the universe with his Word too...). The fulfillment of the time was represented in Christ's arrival on earth. The kingdom's arrival was realized in Jesus's presence. God's promises were being fulfilled at that moment in the most seemingly unspectacular fashion imaginable. 

Jesus's kingdom sermon is simple. God has done what he said he would, and you guys don't have anything to do with it. Jesus doesn't say, "the kingdom of God is almost here, you just have to work really hard to get it the rest of the way." God is the one who brings in his kingdom. Our response is simple: repent and believe. 

Repenting means emptying myself of all the work I want to do for God. It means admitting that I have nothing to offer Him. It means accepting that what I have done is rebel against his rule in my life, and asking for God's forgiveness. Believing the good news means believing that God has done all that was needed. I don't make the news, I hear it reported—I am far too unimportant to create the news. Believing means lunging forward with body and soul in the direction that God is calling. It is not mere intellectual assent (though it involves that), but a "wholisitic" response of heart and mind moving where God calls.

There are divergences between God's call and my actions. The gospel of God's grace calls for my response of repentance and redirecting my steps toward Christ. And as we read through Mark, we'll get to see a little bit more what it looks like to walk after our Savior. 

January 9: Psalm 4

Psalm 4 is characterized by a quiet confidence that only the believer can have. That confidence helps us to come to God on account of Christ, and it helps strengthen us in the midst of trials brought on by other people.

He begins by asking God to hear him, and then remembering that He has. It's because of God's past faithfulness that he comes back asking for help in his current circumstance. What we know to be true of God necessarily directs how we interact with him. If we know he is faithful, we will trust him in prayer. If we don't know this, why bother going to him in the first place?

In verses 2-5, he suddenly turns to his fellow men. He begins with (perhaps apologetical) questions to the ungodly in 4:2, then affirms God's grace to him when he prays (4:3). Verse 4 is one verse whose advice we don't often hear: "Be angry, and do not sin; ponder in your own hearts on your beds, and be silent." Have you been silent lately? I'm a much bigger fan of my own voice than I am of silence. I don't think this is a weird, trance-like, meditational silence. I think this is a silence that comes from confident faith in God's grace for us in Christ (cf. 4:1, 3).

When we have the sort of confidence that comes to us as we remember the powerful reality of the cross of Christ for us, we can pray as in 4:7: "You have put more joy in my heart than they have when their grain and wine abound." I am not always convinced of this. I like material things and riches and the finer things of life. I am not always sure that God himself brings more joy than when material blessings abound. But he does. And if he doesn't for us right now, we need to desperately be seeking Him if we do so, joy will come.

Most nights I pray 4:8 for Jonas. This closes the psalm on the note of quiet and determined confidence. God is the only one who can give such confidence; we are safe in our beds at night only because God desires it. We submit ourselves then to a loving, passionate God who pursues us. And we can confidently know him from his self-revelation. That is why I can sleep at night snug as a bug in a rug.

January 8: Colossians 4

A couple things stick out as I read the closing of Paul's letter in Colossians 4.

Continue steadfastly in prayer (4:2). We just talked about prayer on Thursday in Psalm 3, and it seems to be one of those things that I keep coming across in my reading of Scripture. I shouldn't be surprised by this, since prayer is a major theme in the Bible. But I am consistently convicted when I read of it, because I am consistently NOT steadfast in prayer. Prayer seems like little more than words to us; our time is better spent, we think, DOING something.

There is something in our faith that runs counter to our very nature. We want to DO, but prayer and faith remind us that everything that needs doing has already been done. It's because Jesus was raised from the dead (2:13) and given all authority (1:16) that we can pray at all. Our prayer comes in response to the work of Christ for us that has already been accomplished. When it comes to our salvation, there is nothing for us to do but repent of our sin and believe the gospel. And in light of that grace, we live prayerful lives of thanksgiving (4:2).

Then he tells us to "walk in wisdom toward outsiders" (4:5). I need to remember to be gracious in my speech (4:6), and to be intentional about the way I speak to people outside the church. Am I loving my neighbor? Do I use my neighbor as a means to an end? Do I treat him/her as a nuisance to be brushed past? That was my posture with the person at the front desk when I checked out of our hotel yesterday. I often don't have the time of day for "outsiders." How can I graciously answer them if I don't even bother to look at them?

Paul closes by talking about other brothers and sisters in the church. There are all kinds of references in here to Paul's love for these people (4:7), his need for them (4:10-13), their importance to the work of the church (4:12, 15). We all need one another in the church and we should kill every twinge of pride that would keep us from relying on one another.

I need to hear that today. I want to do it all on my own. But if Paul couldn't, neither can I.

January 6: Psalm 3

I was struck by Psalm 3 when I read it. One of my favorite theologians calls the Psalms the "prayerbook of the Bible," and rightfully so. The psalmists are speaking to God as they write these inspired songs, and they teach us a great deal about how we ought to speak to Him especially in the midst of trials.  

In the first two verses, the psalmist tells God his situation. When we face trials, we can go to God and tell him what we are facing. This is called a lament. God is big enough to hear us when we lament our trials before him.

Next (3:3-5) the psalmist reminds himself of the truth of who God is for him. This is the assurance part, the gospel part. The Lord is his shield, his glory, the lifter of his head. When we experience trials, we can go to God, miraculously, on account of Christ and his work for us! And God WILL hear us.

In verse 6, he expresses an active faith: "I will not be afraid." Our response to God's grace to us in the gospel is one of faith and obedience.

It's only now (3:7-8), after all that, that he asks God for something. We often start our prayers with requests, but it's only after really talking with God and remembering the gospel that the psalmist feels ready to make his request know to the Lord.

He closes his prayer with praise. He is confident that God will hear him, and he glories in the gospel: "salvation belongs to the Lord!"

Last week, I was away from Kathy and the kids. It was hard, especially for Kathy. In that situation, this is how I prayed for them:

Father, Kathy and the kids are going through it right now. Jonas is sick and disobedient, Penny isn't sleeping well, and I know Kathy is tired and frustrated. You, in your wisdom, have kept us apart for several days, though the situation is more difficult than any of us want. But Lord, I know that you love us and desire what is good for us. You proved your love perfectly when you sent your Son to live, die and rise for us. If you did that, Lord, I know that no situation my family faces is beyond the reach of your loving care. I will not worry, because I know you are watching us as our Heavenly Father. Help them, Lord. Give Kathy patience, rest, and wisdom to deal with the situation. Heal Jonas and make Penny sleep. I love you, Father, and give you thanks and praise knowing that you hear my prayer on account of the Lord Jesus and his work for me. Amen.

Tomorrow is our day off of reading. Please take the time to review what you've read this week, reflect upon it, and catch up on any reading you haven't done. We'll pick it back up again Saturday.

January 5: Colossians 3

Lists. Lists are some of the most dangerous things in Scripture, as far as our attention span is concerned. One noun follows another, separated only by a comma, getting across a point by arithmetic rather than by argument or illustration. Colossians 3 is full of lists. Lists of things we ought to repent of. Lists of things we ought to be doing. There's even a list of social roles and how the Christian in each role ought to behave.

My temptation is to brush over the lists. I've heard all this before after all: same old Christian stuff. But I think that 1) the lists in this chapter are founded upon something thrilling, and 2) that something thrilling should keep us from glossing over all the dos and don'ts.

That something thrilling is the fact that you and me—if we're in Christ—we're dead. Paul says so: "For you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God" (3:3). There is no life left in us. We were "buried with [Christ] in baptism, in which you were also raised with him through faith in the powerful working of God, who raised him from the dead" (2:12).

That's why we can't gloss over the dos and don'ts. Since we already died to who we were apart from Christ, there can't be anything alive in us but Christ. Paul exhorts us to "put to death" what is earthly in us (3:5), because we are no more under the power of earthly sins than the population of the local cemetery. In Christ, that person you once were who was a slave to sin is currently coffin dwelling.

So, since my sin prone self is six feet under, the "do" God is drawing my attention to today is patience (3:12). There are dozens of other exhortations here that he may be calling your attention to, but he's reminding me right now that patience is his call on me in Christ. I am not patient by nature, but this passage reminds me that my impatient self is dead and buried. I need to be who God has made me in Christ by grace; today that means being patient.

January 4: Psalm 2

Psalm 2 is about Jesus. The Lord and his Anointed (2:2) are pictured on equal footing, both having authority to rule the nations. Humanity wants to cast off the authority of God and rule the earth ourselves. God laughs (2:4) at our foolish plans (like I would when I was younger and my little brother used to try to wrestle me to the ground despite the 6 years and many pounds I had on him), not because he's cruel (like I was to my brother), but because his plans trump any and all manmade ones.

His plan is to set his King in Zion (2:6), the city of God, the place of salvation for his people. And to that Anointed King, God says, "You are my son" (2:7). God gives all authority to this Anointed-Son-King (cf. Col. 1:16; 2:10, 15) to judge those who would rise against God. And in a cosmic game of rock-paper-scissors, iron rod (Jesus) beats clay pot (us) every time.

This Psalm makes things very clear for me: will I follow Christ (the Greek word for "anointed one") or will I make myself his enemy? As a Christian, I have already declared that I belong to Christ. Will I act like it? Will I walk after him today, or will I put my clay pot up against his crowbar? He can dash me to pieces in an instant; he will humble me and remind me of my creatureliness if I make him. Will I humble myself or be humbled? I can stand against Christ or I can rest in him. Will I lose myself and gain Christ?

That is the promise. Blessing awaits when we cling only to Christ: "Blessed are all who take refuge in him" (2:12).

January 3: Colossians 2

This summer at Christ Church, we did a sermon series which claimed that the Christian life is "not about morality." Colossians 2 makes a similar claim. Morality—manmade religion—does have "an appearance of wisdom" (2:23), but the engine of true Christian living is not in rules and regulations (2:16, 21), but in understanding—in the deepest reaches of our souls—the power and wonder of the gospel of grace. Paul wants to make sure we GET this.

He doesn't present a timid, limp-wristed account of the gospel. He hits the truth head on in all its offensive glory. You were spiritually dead, unclean sinners in desperate need of God's forgiving grace (2:13). God gave you that grace, resurrecting you with Christ, nailing your sin to the cross, setting aside your guilt before him, and subjecting every spiritual power to victorious Jesus (2:13-15). "Don't you get it?" Paul seems to say, "everything has been subjected to Christ, especially you whom he made alive by his grace. Christ is your gracious, loving Master. Why, then, would you enslave yourselves to manmade rules and regulations that seem wise, but are really the cruelest of tyrants? Why would you give yourselves to anyone but Christ???"

Every moment of every day, I choose whom I will serve. Will I serve manmade religiosity or will I serve Christ? Religiosity doesn't keep me from sin (2:23), but since it looks wise I am often tempted to yield to it rather than Jesus. I want to follow the rules in hopes that everyone will see my good works and glorify me! But God's call to us is so much more beautiful, so much more compelling than any of our (supposedly) pious religious observance. Our call is so much higher: "Therefore, as you received Christ Jesus the Lord, so walk in him" (2:6).

We have received Christ the Colossal: the One who holds all wisdom and knowledge (2:3), the One whose authority is over every other (2:10, 15), the One in whom all divinity dwells (2:7). This Colossal Christ is ours to walk in and follow. I need to reflect in awe at the immensity of that truth, and be knit in love to my brothers and sisters (2:3), established in the faith, and abounding in thanksgiving (2:7) for my loving, gracious Lord.

January 2: Psalm 1

Psalm 1 is the first psalm on purpose. It is a sort of introduction to all that will be said in the psalms from here on out. A person is blessed when they meditate day and night upon God's law, cursed if they flaunt it. Yet, if all of us are honest with ourselves, we all flaunt God's law (at least some of the time) and few of us delight in it. What do we do with this sort of discussion in the Psalms, then? Is he saying we earn salvation? Do we just brush over the law parts as Christians?

No. When we see "law" in the Psalms, and in the OT, we remember 2 things. First, God's law was given to those whom he had graciously called to be a "a holy nation." So, to those who called upon the Lord in OT Israel, the law revealed the will of the gracious One who miraculously delivered them from Egypt. God's covenant with Israel was founded upon grace. Those who love the Lord desire to walk in his ways in worship—these are the ones who delight in God's law.

Second, as Christians, we remember the glorious truth of the gospel, that Christ—and Christ alone—obeyed every last stipulation of the law FOR US! The law convicts us of sin, but in Christ it cannot condemn us. Through faith, Christ's perfect fulfillment of the law has been freely given to us. We delight in the law because it's been totally fulfilled in our Lord Jesus. Jesus is like a tree planted by streams that yields abundant fruit for everyone who puts their trust in him. In the gospel, we enjoy the harvest of Christ's righteousness!

I read this and see all the ways I fail to meditate day and night. Thinking on the things of God is hard work, and I am a lazy bum. But rather than be discouraged at my failures, I remember again Christ's perfect, saving obedience for me. I remember that in him, I am a child of the God of the universe. And I remember that, in order to behave like a son of my Father, I need to meditate on his law, day and night. If I really want to act like his child, I need to remember his commands to me; but I never remember them without first remembering the glorious grace of the gospel of Christ.

January 1: Colossians 1

Day one! I am excited to begin our journey through Scripture together with you. Here is today's reading. Please know that I am praying Paul's prayer from vv.9-14 for you all this morning.

Jesus is huge in this passage. I like what one pastor says: Jesus is colossal in Colossians. Look at what Paul writes about Jesus in chapter 1: he's the firstborn of all creation (15); all things were made through and for him (16); the universe holds together in him (17); he is the head of the church, the heir (firstborn) of all creation, and the one in whom dwells all the fullness of divinity (18-19). If you think Jesus is important, you are wrong: Jesus is ALL that's important.

But the highest peak of the mountain range of Christ and his work is not simply that Jesus is God. Not that he made all things or rules all things. For Paul, the pinnacle of Christ's person and work is that he makes "peace by the blood of his cross" (20). Jesus is preeminent as Creator and King of all things, but he is especially preeminent as crucified, reconciling, peace-making Savior.

This Scripture presents me with a difficult question today: what is preeminent in my mind, heart, and life? Where do I seek greatness? All too often, I am prone to seek it in work, family, money. I want others to see how brilliant I am, how capable I am, how together I am. But this sin of pride and self-sufficiency in my heart is opposed to the gospel as Paul presents it here. Jesus made all things, possesses all power, holds everything in the universe together. Yet, it is the weakness and humiliation of the cross that represented Christ's finest hour. In sin, I think greatness comes from my exaltation; in the gospel, I see it comes in humility. In God's kingdom, humility is greatness.