Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Monday, March 21, 2011
The blog is moving...
...to gospeldots.com.
It's true. This site will still be here for the foreseeable future, but I will no longer be updating it as of this week.
Please update your rss feed if you subscribe. The new feed is: gospeldots.com/feed/
Everyone say bye to blogger!
It's true. This site will still be here for the foreseeable future, but I will no longer be updating it as of this week.
Please update your rss feed if you subscribe. The new feed is: gospeldots.com/feed/
Everyone say bye to blogger!
March 21: Genesis 20
Today's reading.
Here goes Abraham again. This is the second time in the book of Genesis that we've seen him pass his wife off as his sister. The man who "believed God," can't seem to trust him.
Which is why what God says to Abimelech is crazy: "return the man's wife, for he is a prophet, so that he will pray for you, and you shall live" (20:7). How embarrassing for the Lord! Abe is his prophet, one who is supposed to speak God's words, but he can't even tell the truth about his marital status. "You know the guy who just moved here with his 'sister'? Yeah, he was lying. She's his wife. But you'd better give her back now, or else. He's one of my guys."
I don't know about you, but I don't want to be on Abraham's team after reading this chapter. If I were Abimelech, I'd be tempted to think God didn't know what he was doing.
That is the brilliant thing about God's plan: Abraham's work has nothing to do with it. God accomplishes his purposes in spite of him.
Abe is supposed to be a blessing to all nations, but here he has brought threats and curses on the house of another man. How many times have we as Christians brought shame to our Lord and curses to those around us? Yet, God's purposes in Christ carry on.
The gospel enlists weak, sinful people in the service of the Almighty. God uses weak people like us to prove that whatever good we do do gets attributed to him and not to us. Abe was a prophet (clearly!) not because he was such a good, moral guy. He was the originator of the wife swap.
No, he was a prophet because of God's call. That's it, and that's all. Likewise, we aren't Christians because we are so good. It's because of God's call, his choice. No matter how good we look or embarrassingly we may behave, we are Christ's because of what he has done, not what we could do.
Here goes Abraham again. This is the second time in the book of Genesis that we've seen him pass his wife off as his sister. The man who "believed God," can't seem to trust him.
Which is why what God says to Abimelech is crazy: "return the man's wife, for he is a prophet, so that he will pray for you, and you shall live" (20:7). How embarrassing for the Lord! Abe is his prophet, one who is supposed to speak God's words, but he can't even tell the truth about his marital status. "You know the guy who just moved here with his 'sister'? Yeah, he was lying. She's his wife. But you'd better give her back now, or else. He's one of my guys."
I don't know about you, but I don't want to be on Abraham's team after reading this chapter. If I were Abimelech, I'd be tempted to think God didn't know what he was doing.
That is the brilliant thing about God's plan: Abraham's work has nothing to do with it. God accomplishes his purposes in spite of him.
Abe is supposed to be a blessing to all nations, but here he has brought threats and curses on the house of another man. How many times have we as Christians brought shame to our Lord and curses to those around us? Yet, God's purposes in Christ carry on.
The gospel enlists weak, sinful people in the service of the Almighty. God uses weak people like us to prove that whatever good we do do gets attributed to him and not to us. Abe was a prophet (clearly!) not because he was such a good, moral guy. He was the originator of the wife swap.
No, he was a prophet because of God's call. That's it, and that's all. Likewise, we aren't Christians because we are so good. It's because of God's call, his choice. No matter how good we look or embarrassingly we may behave, we are Christ's because of what he has done, not what we could do.
Saturday, March 19, 2011
March 19: Genesis 19
Today's reading.
This is a judgment passage, and therefore inherently controversial. In other times and places it would not be so; Sodom's injustice and depravity in this passage are grotesque enough for most anyone to be scandalized. But in our day, God's actions are what strike us as the most grotesque aspect of this chapter.
The text is pretty clear on the extent of Sodom's sin. When the angelic visitors enter Lot's house, "the men of the city, the men of Sodom, both young and old, all the people to the last man, surrounded" it (19:4). And if you understand the cultural situation in which men were understood to be the representative heads of their households, every man standing outside Lot's door meant that the entire city was standing there. Demanding. Yelling. Threatening Lot. Itching to gang rape two defenseless sojourners.
The text doesn't say why they wanted to gang rape the two angelic foreigners. But it seems like it's happened before. There is an urgency to Lot's plea that they stay with him (19:3). This instance of depravity is not the reason God sends judgment on Sodom. It is merely confirmation that judgment is required (18:20-21).
If you had the power to stop a defenseless person from being brutally raped and murdered, would you? If you had the authority to punish a person who had a pattern of committing such heinous crimes against humanity, would you? Would you do all in your power to ensure that that person could never again do such evil to the defenseless?
Frequently in the Psalms and elsewhere in the OT, the biblical authors rejoice in God's judgment. They don't do so because they are Neanderthal masochists who hate anyone who isn't them. They do so because it is divine judgment that stops evil and sets things right again in the world.
God's judgment isn't about mere punishment. It is about restoring justice to an unjust world. It is about rescuing a helpless world from the forces of sin and evil. God's people rejoice in his judgment because we "hunger and thirst for justice" (Matt. 5:6), and we know that God alone can exercise it.
And exercise it he did at the cross. God may have overthrown Sodom, but even Sodom did not bear the full brunt of God's judgment. Christ did. He stood in the place of rapists and (his own) murderers, and cried out for their forgiveness. He took justice on himself so that God's grace and mercy could be the inheritance of all sinners. Even the men of Sodom.
We can stand back and scoff, write off the idea of a God who judges. Or we can stand amazed at God's mercy to judge Jesus in our place. It's a choice between rebellion and obedience; between wallowing in the misery of a fallen world and being rescued; between calling rape and murder no big deal, and standing on the side of Justice. May God teach us to hunger and thirst for his justice.
This is a judgment passage, and therefore inherently controversial. In other times and places it would not be so; Sodom's injustice and depravity in this passage are grotesque enough for most anyone to be scandalized. But in our day, God's actions are what strike us as the most grotesque aspect of this chapter.
The text is pretty clear on the extent of Sodom's sin. When the angelic visitors enter Lot's house, "the men of the city, the men of Sodom, both young and old, all the people to the last man, surrounded" it (19:4). And if you understand the cultural situation in which men were understood to be the representative heads of their households, every man standing outside Lot's door meant that the entire city was standing there. Demanding. Yelling. Threatening Lot. Itching to gang rape two defenseless sojourners.
The text doesn't say why they wanted to gang rape the two angelic foreigners. But it seems like it's happened before. There is an urgency to Lot's plea that they stay with him (19:3). This instance of depravity is not the reason God sends judgment on Sodom. It is merely confirmation that judgment is required (18:20-21).
If you had the power to stop a defenseless person from being brutally raped and murdered, would you? If you had the authority to punish a person who had a pattern of committing such heinous crimes against humanity, would you? Would you do all in your power to ensure that that person could never again do such evil to the defenseless?
Frequently in the Psalms and elsewhere in the OT, the biblical authors rejoice in God's judgment. They don't do so because they are Neanderthal masochists who hate anyone who isn't them. They do so because it is divine judgment that stops evil and sets things right again in the world.
God's judgment isn't about mere punishment. It is about restoring justice to an unjust world. It is about rescuing a helpless world from the forces of sin and evil. God's people rejoice in his judgment because we "hunger and thirst for justice" (Matt. 5:6), and we know that God alone can exercise it.
And exercise it he did at the cross. God may have overthrown Sodom, but even Sodom did not bear the full brunt of God's judgment. Christ did. He stood in the place of rapists and (his own) murderers, and cried out for their forgiveness. He took justice on himself so that God's grace and mercy could be the inheritance of all sinners. Even the men of Sodom.
We can stand back and scoff, write off the idea of a God who judges. Or we can stand amazed at God's mercy to judge Jesus in our place. It's a choice between rebellion and obedience; between wallowing in the misery of a fallen world and being rescued; between calling rape and murder no big deal, and standing on the side of Justice. May God teach us to hunger and thirst for his justice.
Friday, March 18, 2011
March 18: Psalm 29
Today's reading.
"Ascribe!" That's not an exclamation we use much. Ascribe means to give, to credit, to attribute. We credit to God "the glory due his name" (29:2) because he has it, he deserves it, and we want to get on the glory train.
God doesn't need our worship. He graciously invites us to join in the cosmic party that happens in the midst of "the splendor of his holiness" (29:2). "The LORD sits enthroned as king forever" (29:10), and we just want to be part of the intergalactic shout of "Glory!" (29:9). We want to join in his worship because we've heard his voice.
We never see God in this psalm. "The voice of the LORD" is all we get to "see" of him. But his voice is all we need. His voice is the most powerful force in all the universe. His voice thunders, shakes the earth, flashes flames, breaks cedars and strips the forest bare. His voice is all the convincing we need to know that he is God.
God tells us of himself with words, not images. He forbade his people making images in their worship of him (Ex. 20:4) because he had given them all they needed to know of him with his own voice. His Word comes to us from outside us and calls us to believe and do things we otherwise would not believe or do. God's voice, his Word, breaks trees like toothpicks and melts sinful hearts like wax in a fire.
John says, "No one has ever seen God" (John 1:18), but God's Word has made him known. It was no mistake when John referred to Jesus Christ as "the Word" of God (John 1:1, 14). Christ is the revelation of God (John 14:9).
"Long ago, at many times and in many ways, God spoke to our fathers by the prophets, but in these last days he has spoken to us by his Son, whom he appointed the heir of all things, through whom also he created the world" (Heb. 1:1-2). All the awe-striking power that Psalm 29 says belongs to God's voice comes to us now in the person and work of Christ Jesus who even now "upholds the universe by the word of his power" (Heb. 1:3).
We may not have cathedrals or temples to house our deity. We may not have shrines or relics to visit and conjure the divine. But we have God's voice, his Word. And his voice is all we need to hear to respond with a shout of "Glory!"
"Ascribe!" That's not an exclamation we use much. Ascribe means to give, to credit, to attribute. We credit to God "the glory due his name" (29:2) because he has it, he deserves it, and we want to get on the glory train.
God doesn't need our worship. He graciously invites us to join in the cosmic party that happens in the midst of "the splendor of his holiness" (29:2). "The LORD sits enthroned as king forever" (29:10), and we just want to be part of the intergalactic shout of "Glory!" (29:9). We want to join in his worship because we've heard his voice.
We never see God in this psalm. "The voice of the LORD" is all we get to "see" of him. But his voice is all we need. His voice is the most powerful force in all the universe. His voice thunders, shakes the earth, flashes flames, breaks cedars and strips the forest bare. His voice is all the convincing we need to know that he is God.
God tells us of himself with words, not images. He forbade his people making images in their worship of him (Ex. 20:4) because he had given them all they needed to know of him with his own voice. His Word comes to us from outside us and calls us to believe and do things we otherwise would not believe or do. God's voice, his Word, breaks trees like toothpicks and melts sinful hearts like wax in a fire.
John says, "No one has ever seen God" (John 1:18), but God's Word has made him known. It was no mistake when John referred to Jesus Christ as "the Word" of God (John 1:1, 14). Christ is the revelation of God (John 14:9).
"Long ago, at many times and in many ways, God spoke to our fathers by the prophets, but in these last days he has spoken to us by his Son, whom he appointed the heir of all things, through whom also he created the world" (Heb. 1:1-2). All the awe-striking power that Psalm 29 says belongs to God's voice comes to us now in the person and work of Christ Jesus who even now "upholds the universe by the word of his power" (Heb. 1:3).
We may not have cathedrals or temples to house our deity. We may not have shrines or relics to visit and conjure the divine. But we have God's voice, his Word. And his voice is all we need to hear to respond with a shout of "Glory!"
Thursday, March 17, 2011
March 17: Genesis 18
Today's reading.
In the first half of the chapter, God visits Abraham again to reaffirm his promises. This visit, however, seems to be more for Sarah's sake than her husband's. We learn that, "the way of women had ceased to be" with her; perhaps a bit too much information about a biblical figure, but the audacity of the promise comes through all the more in light of that detail. Jesus's great-great-great-grandmother was postmenopausal when she had her first baby. Almost makes a virgin birth not implausible. Indeed, "Is anything too hard for the LORD?" (18:14).
Sarah clearly needed the reminder of the promise. She laughs in disbelief at the thought that she could be a mother (18:12). Maybe it just sounded too good to be true, and she didn't want to be taken for a sucker.
God's pursuit of his people—even barren, messed up Sarah—is astonishing. He descends with two angels to speak to the wife of a guy who lives in the desert. She laughs at God for his kindness and love. And he still pursues her (18:14-15)!
How often are we tempted to disbelieve God's promises because they are too good to be true? We don't want to expose ourselves to disappointment, so we believe halfway. God's grace forgives my sin, but I'll do enough good works to hedge my bets just in case the gospel lets me down.
God pursues us even in our half-belief. He won't rest until we joyfully receive "every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places" (Eph. 1:4). Every one of them is ours in the gospel. If we are tempted to ask Sarah's skeptical question in 18:12 ("shall I have pleasure?"), God will not quit until we believe his resounding "Yes!" to us in Christ.
In the first half of the chapter, God visits Abraham again to reaffirm his promises. This visit, however, seems to be more for Sarah's sake than her husband's. We learn that, "the way of women had ceased to be" with her; perhaps a bit too much information about a biblical figure, but the audacity of the promise comes through all the more in light of that detail. Jesus's great-great-great-grandmother was postmenopausal when she had her first baby. Almost makes a virgin birth not implausible. Indeed, "Is anything too hard for the LORD?" (18:14).
Sarah clearly needed the reminder of the promise. She laughs in disbelief at the thought that she could be a mother (18:12). Maybe it just sounded too good to be true, and she didn't want to be taken for a sucker.
God's pursuit of his people—even barren, messed up Sarah—is astonishing. He descends with two angels to speak to the wife of a guy who lives in the desert. She laughs at God for his kindness and love. And he still pursues her (18:14-15)!
How often are we tempted to disbelieve God's promises because they are too good to be true? We don't want to expose ourselves to disappointment, so we believe halfway. God's grace forgives my sin, but I'll do enough good works to hedge my bets just in case the gospel lets me down.
God pursues us even in our half-belief. He won't rest until we joyfully receive "every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places" (Eph. 1:4). Every one of them is ours in the gospel. If we are tempted to ask Sarah's skeptical question in 18:12 ("shall I have pleasure?"), God will not quit until we believe his resounding "Yes!" to us in Christ.
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
March 16: Genesis 17
Today's reading.
This chapter makes me wonder what went through the mind of slaves in the ancient slave market when Abraham walked up to acquire more servants for his household. I just picture them faking injuries and muttering under their breath, "don't pick me, don't pick me, don't pick me." Abe was the guy whom God told, "Every male throughout your generations, whether born in your house or bought with your money from any foreigner who is not of your offspring, both he who is born in your house and he who is bought with your money, shall surely be circumcised" (17:12-13). I can't think of a worse job than one for which you had to go under that knife before your first day of work.
God keeps promising and promising and promising, but Abraham tells God he's got it covered. Abe wasn't sure if God would be able to do this whole "many nations" thing with just infertile Sarah as his wife, so he helped God out and knocked up Hagar. Ishmael is about thirteen at this point, but God comes back promising, promising, promising again about babies and nations. Abe is convinced God has this wrong: "Then Abraham fell on his face and laughed and said to himself, 'Shall a child be born to a man who is a hundred years old? Shall Sarah, who is ninety years old, bear a child?' And Abraham said to God, 'Oh that Ishmael might live before you!'" (17:17-18). God just says "no" and then tells him what his son is going to be named. Abe doesn't believe, but God is already naming his yet-to-be-conceived child. Talk about jinxing something. He didn't even knock on wood when he said it.
Abraham responds in faith. It takes faith to let yourself be snipped at age ninety-nine. Abraham believed God, and so underwent significant personal sacrifice for the sake of the God who would one day give him everything.
God told Abraham that he would "establish my covenant with Isaac, whom Sarah shall bear to you at this time next year" (17:21). Abe wanted God to endorse his plan of salvation in Ishmael, but God is not into putting a rubber stamp on the plans we make for our own lives. God would establish his covenant with Isaac. The promised one who would crush the serpent's head (3:15), who would bring blessing to all the nations, would come through a child yet to be born to parents who were as good as dead so non-functioning were their ancient bodies. God would bring life where was death, fruit where there was only barrenness. God would bring redemption where sin reigned, salvation where judgment was certain, and he would do that through Christ.
The promise of Christ coming one day was so precious to Abraham, that he was willing to be circumcised in his old age. We've seen Christ, seen the promise fulfilled. What are we willing to do?
This chapter makes me wonder what went through the mind of slaves in the ancient slave market when Abraham walked up to acquire more servants for his household. I just picture them faking injuries and muttering under their breath, "don't pick me, don't pick me, don't pick me." Abe was the guy whom God told, "Every male throughout your generations, whether born in your house or bought with your money from any foreigner who is not of your offspring, both he who is born in your house and he who is bought with your money, shall surely be circumcised" (17:12-13). I can't think of a worse job than one for which you had to go under that knife before your first day of work.
God keeps promising and promising and promising, but Abraham tells God he's got it covered. Abe wasn't sure if God would be able to do this whole "many nations" thing with just infertile Sarah as his wife, so he helped God out and knocked up Hagar. Ishmael is about thirteen at this point, but God comes back promising, promising, promising again about babies and nations. Abe is convinced God has this wrong: "Then Abraham fell on his face and laughed and said to himself, 'Shall a child be born to a man who is a hundred years old? Shall Sarah, who is ninety years old, bear a child?' And Abraham said to God, 'Oh that Ishmael might live before you!'" (17:17-18). God just says "no" and then tells him what his son is going to be named. Abe doesn't believe, but God is already naming his yet-to-be-conceived child. Talk about jinxing something. He didn't even knock on wood when he said it.
Abraham responds in faith. It takes faith to let yourself be snipped at age ninety-nine. Abraham believed God, and so underwent significant personal sacrifice for the sake of the God who would one day give him everything.
God told Abraham that he would "establish my covenant with Isaac, whom Sarah shall bear to you at this time next year" (17:21). Abe wanted God to endorse his plan of salvation in Ishmael, but God is not into putting a rubber stamp on the plans we make for our own lives. God would establish his covenant with Isaac. The promised one who would crush the serpent's head (3:15), who would bring blessing to all the nations, would come through a child yet to be born to parents who were as good as dead so non-functioning were their ancient bodies. God would bring life where was death, fruit where there was only barrenness. God would bring redemption where sin reigned, salvation where judgment was certain, and he would do that through Christ.
The promise of Christ coming one day was so precious to Abraham, that he was willing to be circumcised in his old age. We've seen Christ, seen the promise fulfilled. What are we willing to do?
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
March 15: Psalm 28
Today's reading.
The end of this psalm provides an excellent example of an excellent prayer: "Oh, save your people and bless your heritage! Be their shepherd and carry them forever" (28:9).
He asks God to "bless your heritage." God's heritage is Israel, as Moses told them, "the Lord has taken you and brought you out of the iron furnace, out of Egypt, to be a people of his own inheritance, as you are this day" (Deut. 4:20).
This people, Israel, God's inheritance, are the descendants of Abraham. We read recently what God's will was toward Abraham's descendants: "I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you and make your name great, so that you will be a blessing. I will bless those who bless you, and him who dishonors you I will curse, and in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed" (Gen. 12:2-3). God was already determined to bless his "heritage." Why does the psalmist ask God to do what he has already promised to do?
So often, I find myself wanting to know God's will—his secret, hidden plan that he has in store for me and those important to me. I pray and pray and pray, asking God that he would "reveal his will." It's like I want an audible Voice, an indubitable revelation of what God wants me to do right now.
The psalmist doesn't ask for that. He asks, not that God would reveal what he hasn't yet revealed, but that God would do what he has already revealed. God has given us an enormous Book in which he has revealed his will for us. The psalmist prays that God would be true to what he has said. He prays that because he knows that God's promises are good and that his Word is sure. God will answer the psalmist's prayer because the psalmist is praying according to God's will.
I think this is a picture of what it looks like to pray, "Thy will be done." In order to pray that God's will be done, we have to know what God has told us (in Scripture) his will is. In order to pray this, we have to trust that God has told us all we need to know, and that we can trust him with the rest.
Deuteronomy 29:29 says, "The secret things belong to the LORD our God, but the things that are revealed belong to us and to our children forever, that we may do all the words of this law." What God has told us in his Word belongs to us. We can claim his promises because they are our promises. Given all that he has promised, given his desire to bless us, his "heritage," we can trust God with the secret things. And we can take joy in the blessings he has revealed to us forever.
The end of this psalm provides an excellent example of an excellent prayer: "Oh, save your people and bless your heritage! Be their shepherd and carry them forever" (28:9).
He asks God to "bless your heritage." God's heritage is Israel, as Moses told them, "the Lord has taken you and brought you out of the iron furnace, out of Egypt, to be a people of his own inheritance, as you are this day" (Deut. 4:20).
This people, Israel, God's inheritance, are the descendants of Abraham. We read recently what God's will was toward Abraham's descendants: "I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you and make your name great, so that you will be a blessing. I will bless those who bless you, and him who dishonors you I will curse, and in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed" (Gen. 12:2-3). God was already determined to bless his "heritage." Why does the psalmist ask God to do what he has already promised to do?
So often, I find myself wanting to know God's will—his secret, hidden plan that he has in store for me and those important to me. I pray and pray and pray, asking God that he would "reveal his will." It's like I want an audible Voice, an indubitable revelation of what God wants me to do right now.
The psalmist doesn't ask for that. He asks, not that God would reveal what he hasn't yet revealed, but that God would do what he has already revealed. God has given us an enormous Book in which he has revealed his will for us. The psalmist prays that God would be true to what he has said. He prays that because he knows that God's promises are good and that his Word is sure. God will answer the psalmist's prayer because the psalmist is praying according to God's will.
I think this is a picture of what it looks like to pray, "Thy will be done." In order to pray that God's will be done, we have to know what God has told us (in Scripture) his will is. In order to pray this, we have to trust that God has told us all we need to know, and that we can trust him with the rest.
Deuteronomy 29:29 says, "The secret things belong to the LORD our God, but the things that are revealed belong to us and to our children forever, that we may do all the words of this law." What God has told us in his Word belongs to us. We can claim his promises because they are our promises. Given all that he has promised, given his desire to bless us, his "heritage," we can trust God with the secret things. And we can take joy in the blessings he has revealed to us forever.
Monday, March 14, 2011
March 14: Genesis 16
Today's reading.
Hagar had a rough life. She was a slave in the house of a wealthy family. Not only was she a slave, but she was far from home; she was from Egypt (16:3) but lived now in Canaan with her masters. Not only did she not have a choice when it came to her job, but as a slave she did not even get to exert her will when it came to her own body. She was forced by Sarai to sleep with 80-something Abram. Hagar was so poor, so oppressed, so dehumanized that she was used for her sex organs and then tossed away when no longer needed. Hagar had a rough life.
Two things strike me when I reflect on this passage. The first is that her oppressors are Christian. The second is that God cares even for those whom Christians treat shamefully.
No one forced Sarai to give Hagar to her husband. It was her idea. And Abram went right along with it. The one who "believed God and it was counted to him as righteousness" (15:6), shrugs his shoulders at his wife's suggestion and invites Hagar into his tent. Hagar suffers gross injustice at the hands of God's nascent church. That fact makes me take a step back and wonder where my own blind spots are. How am I tempted to treat those outside the church with contempt? Where am I committing injustice? Abraham—the father of our faith, the one that Scripture says is counted as father to both the church and to Christ himself—forced a slave girl to have sex with him and bear his child! That sounds bad to us; is there anything in our lives that we take for granted that other generations would look upon in shock and horror?
Even in the midst of the worst sins of his church, God comes to the aid of the oppressed and afflicted. He comes to Hagar after she's been thrown out like garbage, meets her in the midst of her darkest hour, and saves her. And even in spite of the sin of God's people, Hagar comes to faith: "she called the name of the LORD who spoke to her, 'You are a God of seeing,' for she said, 'Truly here I have seen him who looks after me'" (16:13).
God is able to take the worst of our sin, injustice and oppression and make it work together for good (Rom. 8:28). God used humanity's worst sin, the unjust murder of his own Son, to redeem us from that very sin! He takes Abram and Sarai's worst sin and uses it to reveal himself to their victim. God gives life where death reigned. That is the beauty of the gospel.
Hagar had a rough life. She was a slave in the house of a wealthy family. Not only was she a slave, but she was far from home; she was from Egypt (16:3) but lived now in Canaan with her masters. Not only did she not have a choice when it came to her job, but as a slave she did not even get to exert her will when it came to her own body. She was forced by Sarai to sleep with 80-something Abram. Hagar was so poor, so oppressed, so dehumanized that she was used for her sex organs and then tossed away when no longer needed. Hagar had a rough life.
Two things strike me when I reflect on this passage. The first is that her oppressors are Christian. The second is that God cares even for those whom Christians treat shamefully.
No one forced Sarai to give Hagar to her husband. It was her idea. And Abram went right along with it. The one who "believed God and it was counted to him as righteousness" (15:6), shrugs his shoulders at his wife's suggestion and invites Hagar into his tent. Hagar suffers gross injustice at the hands of God's nascent church. That fact makes me take a step back and wonder where my own blind spots are. How am I tempted to treat those outside the church with contempt? Where am I committing injustice? Abraham—the father of our faith, the one that Scripture says is counted as father to both the church and to Christ himself—forced a slave girl to have sex with him and bear his child! That sounds bad to us; is there anything in our lives that we take for granted that other generations would look upon in shock and horror?
Even in the midst of the worst sins of his church, God comes to the aid of the oppressed and afflicted. He comes to Hagar after she's been thrown out like garbage, meets her in the midst of her darkest hour, and saves her. And even in spite of the sin of God's people, Hagar comes to faith: "she called the name of the LORD who spoke to her, 'You are a God of seeing,' for she said, 'Truly here I have seen him who looks after me'" (16:13).
God is able to take the worst of our sin, injustice and oppression and make it work together for good (Rom. 8:28). God used humanity's worst sin, the unjust murder of his own Son, to redeem us from that very sin! He takes Abram and Sarai's worst sin and uses it to reveal himself to their victim. God gives life where death reigned. That is the beauty of the gospel.
Saturday, March 12, 2011
March 12: Genesis 15
Today's reading.
God comes and talks to Abram who is starting to wonder if God will actually make good on his promises. He still doesn't have kids. Still doesn't feel like much of a worldwide blessing. Abe is focused on his circumstances; God points his eyes to the stars.
God says, that's how many kids you'll have when I'm done blessing you, Abram. "And he believed the LORD, and he counted it to him as righteousness" (15:6). Abram believed what God said, put his faith in God's promise, and that faith was the means through which God declared him righteous.
And just in case his words aren't enough to affirm this heavenly promise, God seals the deal by swearing to himself. God swears to God.
He tells Abe to cut a bunch of animals in half and line them up. Then there is a vision of a "smoking fire pot" passing between the pieces of animal carcass. The ceremony is meant to communicate the seriousness of the promise. God is saying, "If I don't make good on my promise, may I share the fate of these animals." God wants his carcass scattered in the dessert for the vultures to he doesn't do what he said he would.
What was the promise? What did Abram put his faith in? Why would God swear on his own grave?
The promise was Christ. Abraham's children would outnumber the stars because "it is those of faith who are the sons of Abraham" (Gal. 3:7). All those who put their faith in Christ—in the promised blessing that would come through Abraham's offspring—receive the same righteousness that Abraham did. Because Abraham's Son came as God had promised, we can be counted Abraham's sons and daughters by faith in Christ.
God swore on his own grave that he would send Christ. And when Christ came, God still went to the grave for us. This is a completely one-sided deal, and we got the sweet end of the bargain. That kind of grace gets in you. Changes you. Takes hold of you and sets you free all at once. Let grace transform you. That's what being a Christian is.
God comes and talks to Abram who is starting to wonder if God will actually make good on his promises. He still doesn't have kids. Still doesn't feel like much of a worldwide blessing. Abe is focused on his circumstances; God points his eyes to the stars.
God says, that's how many kids you'll have when I'm done blessing you, Abram. "And he believed the LORD, and he counted it to him as righteousness" (15:6). Abram believed what God said, put his faith in God's promise, and that faith was the means through which God declared him righteous.
And just in case his words aren't enough to affirm this heavenly promise, God seals the deal by swearing to himself. God swears to God.
He tells Abe to cut a bunch of animals in half and line them up. Then there is a vision of a "smoking fire pot" passing between the pieces of animal carcass. The ceremony is meant to communicate the seriousness of the promise. God is saying, "If I don't make good on my promise, may I share the fate of these animals." God wants his carcass scattered in the dessert for the vultures to he doesn't do what he said he would.
What was the promise? What did Abram put his faith in? Why would God swear on his own grave?
The promise was Christ. Abraham's children would outnumber the stars because "it is those of faith who are the sons of Abraham" (Gal. 3:7). All those who put their faith in Christ—in the promised blessing that would come through Abraham's offspring—receive the same righteousness that Abraham did. Because Abraham's Son came as God had promised, we can be counted Abraham's sons and daughters by faith in Christ.
God swore on his own grave that he would send Christ. And when Christ came, God still went to the grave for us. This is a completely one-sided deal, and we got the sweet end of the bargain. That kind of grace gets in you. Changes you. Takes hold of you and sets you free all at once. Let grace transform you. That's what being a Christian is.
Friday, March 11, 2011
March 11: Psalm 27
Today's reading.
This psalm both expresses confidence in the Lord and calls us to confidence. God is our light and salvation and stronghold (27:1); he is in his temple, where his beauty may be found (27.4); he is a shelter where we are safe (27:5), and the one who leads us on a straight path (27:11). If we are ever tempted to fear, we can find comfort, not only in who God is, but in who he is for us.
In Christ, God has made himself available to us in ways beyond all comprehension. The fact that we could claim to know God in a unique way is simply galling to the wisdom of this world. How could we believe there is something unique about the way we know God that other religions don't have? What makes us so special? Who do we think we are?
The answer to these questions has nothing to do with us or what we could say, and everything to do with God and what he has said: "You have said, 'Seek my face.' My heart says to you, 'Your face, LORD, do I seek'" (27:8).
Our response of humble faith comes from what we have heard, not from what we have seen or done. We have heard God's command. We have heard his gospel. We seek the Lord's face in humble, obedient response to the grace of his gospel. We desperately seek God's face, his ways, his call, because of grace.
We could never seek God's face if we didn't hear his voice. Thank God we've heard, not the terrible voice of Sinai, but the peaceful sermon of our faithful Savior (Eph. 2:17). In Christ, we hear divine peace. And so we respond as servants who seek his face.
This psalm both expresses confidence in the Lord and calls us to confidence. God is our light and salvation and stronghold (27:1); he is in his temple, where his beauty may be found (27.4); he is a shelter where we are safe (27:5), and the one who leads us on a straight path (27:11). If we are ever tempted to fear, we can find comfort, not only in who God is, but in who he is for us.
In Christ, God has made himself available to us in ways beyond all comprehension. The fact that we could claim to know God in a unique way is simply galling to the wisdom of this world. How could we believe there is something unique about the way we know God that other religions don't have? What makes us so special? Who do we think we are?
The answer to these questions has nothing to do with us or what we could say, and everything to do with God and what he has said: "You have said, 'Seek my face.' My heart says to you, 'Your face, LORD, do I seek'" (27:8).
Our response of humble faith comes from what we have heard, not from what we have seen or done. We have heard God's command. We have heard his gospel. We seek the Lord's face in humble, obedient response to the grace of his gospel. We desperately seek God's face, his ways, his call, because of grace.
We could never seek God's face if we didn't hear his voice. Thank God we've heard, not the terrible voice of Sinai, but the peaceful sermon of our faithful Savior (Eph. 2:17). In Christ, we hear divine peace. And so we respond as servants who seek his face.
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Sundays, Not Fridays, Off
Hi everyone,
Rather than take Fridays off from now on, I think it would be more helpful for us to take Sundays off from reading. Seems like the weekdays are generally more consistent in terms of our schedules than the weekends, so it seems it would be most helpful to take off a weekend day than a weekday. If you have any thoughts or questions about that, or would like to keep things the way they are, please comment below. Here is an updated schedule:
So, expect to be in the Psalms tomorrow morning!
Rather than take Fridays off from now on, I think it would be more helpful for us to take Sundays off from reading. Seems like the weekdays are generally more consistent in terms of our schedules than the weekends, so it seems it would be most helpful to take off a weekend day than a weekday. If you have any thoughts or questions about that, or would like to keep things the way they are, please comment below. Here is an updated schedule:
So, expect to be in the Psalms tomorrow morning!
March 10: Genesis 14
Today's reading.
In this passage we learn that Abram is kind of a bad ass. This story has the makings of a Liam Neison movie: "he was a mild-mannered shepherd... until they messed with his family."
Five kings take on another four kings (14:8-12), and the four beat the five. The four kings make off with the loot and take a few hostages, including Lot, Abram's nephew. When Abram hears about it, he gets on his general's robe, gathers his own private army (you can tell he was rich; can you afford a private army of 318 mercenaries?), and takes off after Lot. And where five kings couldn't win the battle with their combined forces, Abram wins the day single-handedly.
If ever there were a moment for a person's head to get big, this was it. Abram had beaten four serious military powers with his own army. I don't know about you, but if I were in Abe's shoes, I'd be pretty tempted to pride.
In his grace, God sends a preacher to keep Abram grounded. Melchizedek greets him after his victory and preaches this message to him: "Blessed be Abram by God Most High, Possessor of heaven and earth; and blessed be God Most High, who has delivered your enemies into your hand!" (14:19-20). In his finest hour, Abram is reminded that he achieved victory at the pleasure of the Almighty. Success came, not from his military might or skill, but by God's grace.
Abram is presented with the chance to respond to God's work with faith. And he responds well: "Abram gave him a tenth of everything" (14:20). Tithing, giving sacrificially to the Lord, is not a legalistic obligation, but a natural response of faith to God's grace.
Our faith has to make it's way to our possessions. Do we believe what we have is the result of our hard work? Do we believe that our success is our own making? If we do, we'll keep what we have for ourselves. If we believe, however, that God graciously provides for us, that he opens doors, that every good and perfect gift is from him (James 1:17), then how can we be selfish with his gifts?
In this passage we learn that Abram is kind of a bad ass. This story has the makings of a Liam Neison movie: "he was a mild-mannered shepherd... until they messed with his family."
Five kings take on another four kings (14:8-12), and the four beat the five. The four kings make off with the loot and take a few hostages, including Lot, Abram's nephew. When Abram hears about it, he gets on his general's robe, gathers his own private army (you can tell he was rich; can you afford a private army of 318 mercenaries?), and takes off after Lot. And where five kings couldn't win the battle with their combined forces, Abram wins the day single-handedly.
If ever there were a moment for a person's head to get big, this was it. Abram had beaten four serious military powers with his own army. I don't know about you, but if I were in Abe's shoes, I'd be pretty tempted to pride.
In his grace, God sends a preacher to keep Abram grounded. Melchizedek greets him after his victory and preaches this message to him: "Blessed be Abram by God Most High, Possessor of heaven and earth; and blessed be God Most High, who has delivered your enemies into your hand!" (14:19-20). In his finest hour, Abram is reminded that he achieved victory at the pleasure of the Almighty. Success came, not from his military might or skill, but by God's grace.
Abram is presented with the chance to respond to God's work with faith. And he responds well: "Abram gave him a tenth of everything" (14:20). Tithing, giving sacrificially to the Lord, is not a legalistic obligation, but a natural response of faith to God's grace.
Our faith has to make it's way to our possessions. Do we believe what we have is the result of our hard work? Do we believe that our success is our own making? If we do, we'll keep what we have for ourselves. If we believe, however, that God graciously provides for us, that he opens doors, that every good and perfect gift is from him (James 1:17), then how can we be selfish with his gifts?
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
March 9: Genesis 13
Today's reading.
In this passage, Abram returns with his family and Lot to the Promised Land. The two part ways, and we find out how exactly Lot came to live in Sodom (which is ominously described in 13:13). Abram returns with quite a bit of cash (13:2), much of which he acquired by pimping out his wife in the previous chapter. When he returns, though, Abram reaffirms his faith at the altar he had made earlier and calls "upon the name of the LORD" (13:4). And a few verses later, the Lord comes calling on Abram in return.
God's promises are grandiose in his exchange with Abram at the end of the chapter. He tells Abram to look north, south, east and west; God's going to give it all to him (13:14-15). The horizon can't contain God's goodness. And Abram's offspring will be "as the dust of the earth," so numerous as to defy computation (13:16). Then the Lord gives Abram an interesting command: "Arise, walk through the length and the breadth of the land, for I will give it to you" (13:17).
Why does God ask him to do that? Why does he tell Abram to, basically, go for a stroll in this land?
Because Abram doesn't own it yet. Abram hasn't seen the fulfillment of God's promised inheritance, and he won't in his lifetime. Going out for a walk in someone else's land is an act of faith. And Abram responds well: he moves his tent someplace else and builds another altar there (13:18).
Abram could have kept a low profile and taught his kids to do the same. He could have lived in a little corner of the Negeb (a desert in southern Palestine) and stayed out of the way of the Canaanites and Perizzites. But God doesn't call his people to passive, fearful retreat. He calls us to confident, faith-filled, abundant life.
Abram was an heir to a Promised Land. In Christ, you and I are heirs of everything (see this message for more on this idea). Abram, though he didn't see the fulfillment of that promise, lived as a stranger in a place that God said would one day be his. Similarly, you and I—as children of our Father who made and owns everything—walk, live, eat, sleep, work, pray and die in a world that we will one day inherit at the end of all things. In Christ, we've received everything. It's kind of like being the world's richest trust fund kids. All the stuff we're tempted to covet, pine after, idolize isn't ours yet. But it will be.
The question for us, then, is how will we walk. Will we live in a little corner of the universe, afraid to step out in faith? Or will we hear God's promises to us and boldly live in their radiant shadow? Perfect love casts out all fear (1 John 4:18). In light of the love of Christ, how will we walk?
In this passage, Abram returns with his family and Lot to the Promised Land. The two part ways, and we find out how exactly Lot came to live in Sodom (which is ominously described in 13:13). Abram returns with quite a bit of cash (13:2), much of which he acquired by pimping out his wife in the previous chapter. When he returns, though, Abram reaffirms his faith at the altar he had made earlier and calls "upon the name of the LORD" (13:4). And a few verses later, the Lord comes calling on Abram in return.
God's promises are grandiose in his exchange with Abram at the end of the chapter. He tells Abram to look north, south, east and west; God's going to give it all to him (13:14-15). The horizon can't contain God's goodness. And Abram's offspring will be "as the dust of the earth," so numerous as to defy computation (13:16). Then the Lord gives Abram an interesting command: "Arise, walk through the length and the breadth of the land, for I will give it to you" (13:17).
Why does God ask him to do that? Why does he tell Abram to, basically, go for a stroll in this land?
Because Abram doesn't own it yet. Abram hasn't seen the fulfillment of God's promised inheritance, and he won't in his lifetime. Going out for a walk in someone else's land is an act of faith. And Abram responds well: he moves his tent someplace else and builds another altar there (13:18).
Abram could have kept a low profile and taught his kids to do the same. He could have lived in a little corner of the Negeb (a desert in southern Palestine) and stayed out of the way of the Canaanites and Perizzites. But God doesn't call his people to passive, fearful retreat. He calls us to confident, faith-filled, abundant life.
Abram was an heir to a Promised Land. In Christ, you and I are heirs of everything (see this message for more on this idea). Abram, though he didn't see the fulfillment of that promise, lived as a stranger in a place that God said would one day be his. Similarly, you and I—as children of our Father who made and owns everything—walk, live, eat, sleep, work, pray and die in a world that we will one day inherit at the end of all things. In Christ, we've received everything. It's kind of like being the world's richest trust fund kids. All the stuff we're tempted to covet, pine after, idolize isn't ours yet. But it will be.
The question for us, then, is how will we walk. Will we live in a little corner of the universe, afraid to step out in faith? Or will we hear God's promises to us and boldly live in their radiant shadow? Perfect love casts out all fear (1 John 4:18). In light of the love of Christ, how will we walk?
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
March 8: Psalm 26
Today's reading.
I read this a couple months ago, and I was struck by 26:3: "For your steadfast love is before my eyes, and I walk in your faithfulness." I wrote myself a note there that said, "only Jesus could have prayed this." Now, on another reading of it, I'm not so sure.
The thing is, I think Jesus could have prayed this, but I think we can too. My natural tendency is to read the Bible in a totally self-centered way, but it is always about God first and only later about me. What does it say? "Your steadfast love," "your faithfulness." The pray-er is looking at God, who he is, and what he has done. The psalmist's work doesn't enter into it. This is about faith.
Why else would he ask the Lord to "redeem me, be gracious to me" (26:11)? If he trusted in his own works, he wouldn't need grace or redemption. So, when he opens by talking about his "integrity" we can understand that that integrity comes because he has "trusted in the Lord" (26:1).
Our integrity comes from faith, never in its place. We work because we believe. And though we may not have a stunning track record to point back to, we have all the righteousness we need. Christ is our righteousness! Only he has perfectly done all the good works laid out in this Psalm. By faith we wash our hands in innocence in his redeeming blood (26:6).
By faith we walk in our integrity (26:11). Its name is Jesus.
I read this a couple months ago, and I was struck by 26:3: "For your steadfast love is before my eyes, and I walk in your faithfulness." I wrote myself a note there that said, "only Jesus could have prayed this." Now, on another reading of it, I'm not so sure.
The thing is, I think Jesus could have prayed this, but I think we can too. My natural tendency is to read the Bible in a totally self-centered way, but it is always about God first and only later about me. What does it say? "Your steadfast love," "your faithfulness." The pray-er is looking at God, who he is, and what he has done. The psalmist's work doesn't enter into it. This is about faith.
Why else would he ask the Lord to "redeem me, be gracious to me" (26:11)? If he trusted in his own works, he wouldn't need grace or redemption. So, when he opens by talking about his "integrity" we can understand that that integrity comes because he has "trusted in the Lord" (26:1).
Our integrity comes from faith, never in its place. We work because we believe. And though we may not have a stunning track record to point back to, we have all the righteousness we need. Christ is our righteousness! Only he has perfectly done all the good works laid out in this Psalm. By faith we wash our hands in innocence in his redeeming blood (26:6).
By faith we walk in our integrity (26:11). Its name is Jesus.
Monday, March 7, 2011
March 7: Genesis 12
Today's reading.
The Bible is full of imperfect people imperfectly following a perfect God. That's a decent description for the church throughout the centuries. Which is why it's fitting that Abraham is so frequently referred to as the father of our faith.
We are introduced to Abram (later Abraham) for the first time in this chapter. The beginning of his story is actually somewhat impressive: "Now the LORD said to Abram, 'Go from your country and your kindred and your father's house to the land that I will show you'" (12:1). Of all the people in the world, God chooses to speak to Abram. That's a pretty cool thing to get to put on your resume: "chosen out of all the nations for regular conversations with and special calling from the Almighty." Not bad.
Abram knows nothing other than that God 1) is calling him to a yet-to-be-determined location, and 2) is making him incredible promises (all the families of the world would be blessed through him!). Surprisingly, Abram steps out in faith and just goes! He picks up and leaves his home and follows God he knows not where. That is serious faith. Abram seems like a pretty serious, faithful guy in the first half of the chapter.
Then he goes to Egypt.
When Abram gets to Canaan (the Promised Land!), there is a severe famine there. I wonder what he thought when he arrived. "God, I followed you hundreds of miles to get here, and there's not even enough food to feed me and my family?" I wonder if maybe he lost faith at that point, if maybe he lost hope that God would really give him that land.
He and Sarai go to Egypt, and it's here that Abram's faithlessness is put on full display. He doesn't believe God can provide food in the Promised Land, so he leaves. Now he doesn't believe God can provide safety in Egypt, so he makes his wife lie and tell everyone he's her brother. (Wives, how would you like it if your husband was afraid and so tried to pass you off as his sister? Abram is dashing, isn't he?)
And if we read closely enough, we discover that part of Abram's motivation in passing Sarai off as his sister was profit-driven: "Say you are my sister, that it may go well with me because of you, and that my life may be spared for your sake" (12:13). It isn't just for protection, but "that it may go well with" him. In other words, if Pharaoh takes Sarai as his wife, he'll give lots of money and stuff to Abram. In other words, Abram is pimping out his wife.
We are imperfect people imperfectly following a perfect God. And God, in his mercy, uses us to accomplish his purposes. Abram was about as raw a material as you could find, but God used him to start rolling the ball of our redemption. God would bless all the world through sinful, selfish Abram. His potential isn't great at this point in the story, but God isn't finished with him yet. Thank God he isn't finished yet with you and me either.
The Bible is full of imperfect people imperfectly following a perfect God. That's a decent description for the church throughout the centuries. Which is why it's fitting that Abraham is so frequently referred to as the father of our faith.
We are introduced to Abram (later Abraham) for the first time in this chapter. The beginning of his story is actually somewhat impressive: "Now the LORD said to Abram, 'Go from your country and your kindred and your father's house to the land that I will show you'" (12:1). Of all the people in the world, God chooses to speak to Abram. That's a pretty cool thing to get to put on your resume: "chosen out of all the nations for regular conversations with and special calling from the Almighty." Not bad.
Abram knows nothing other than that God 1) is calling him to a yet-to-be-determined location, and 2) is making him incredible promises (all the families of the world would be blessed through him!). Surprisingly, Abram steps out in faith and just goes! He picks up and leaves his home and follows God he knows not where. That is serious faith. Abram seems like a pretty serious, faithful guy in the first half of the chapter.
Then he goes to Egypt.
When Abram gets to Canaan (the Promised Land!), there is a severe famine there. I wonder what he thought when he arrived. "God, I followed you hundreds of miles to get here, and there's not even enough food to feed me and my family?" I wonder if maybe he lost faith at that point, if maybe he lost hope that God would really give him that land.
He and Sarai go to Egypt, and it's here that Abram's faithlessness is put on full display. He doesn't believe God can provide food in the Promised Land, so he leaves. Now he doesn't believe God can provide safety in Egypt, so he makes his wife lie and tell everyone he's her brother. (Wives, how would you like it if your husband was afraid and so tried to pass you off as his sister? Abram is dashing, isn't he?)
And if we read closely enough, we discover that part of Abram's motivation in passing Sarai off as his sister was profit-driven: "Say you are my sister, that it may go well with me because of you, and that my life may be spared for your sake" (12:13). It isn't just for protection, but "that it may go well with" him. In other words, if Pharaoh takes Sarai as his wife, he'll give lots of money and stuff to Abram. In other words, Abram is pimping out his wife.
We are imperfect people imperfectly following a perfect God. And God, in his mercy, uses us to accomplish his purposes. Abram was about as raw a material as you could find, but God used him to start rolling the ball of our redemption. God would bless all the world through sinful, selfish Abram. His potential isn't great at this point in the story, but God isn't finished with him yet. Thank God he isn't finished yet with you and me either.
Sunday, March 6, 2011
March 6: Genesis 11
Today's reading.
It didn't take humanity long to get back to rebelling against their Creator. Just a few verses ago, God told the survivors of the ark to "be fruitful and multiply, teem on the earth and multiply in it” (9:7). This was a renewing of God's original command to Adam and Eve to "fill the earth and subdue it" (1:28). They were supposed to fill the earth, to bring order to all of God's creation and lead it to reflect God's glory back to him.
But that is not humanity's stated goal in this chapter: "Come, let us build ourselves a city and a tower with its top in the heavens, and let us make a name for ourselves, lest we be dispersed over the face of the whole earth" (11:4). The name they wanted to make great was their own, not God's. And the way they were going to do that was by building one great city, rather than being dispersed and actually filling the earth as God had commanded.
Babel is the first great self-salvation project. Man began in a Garden that was in the heavens; God was there! We lost that, but we would try pull ourselves up by our bootstraps and make our own way to heaven. Babel was an attempt to build heaven on earth, but Man would be earth's new god. We would lift ourselves up above the heavens and finally be like God. We would set our throne at the top of Babel's tower and call all creation to bow to us in worship.
Good thing God has a good sense of humor.
Picture the story in your mind. Man is building a tower "with its top in the heavens," but the Lord had to come down to see it (11:5, 7). It's as if God's saying, "Oh, that's nice, you guys made a little tower, did you? How quaint. Oh, it's supposed to go to the heavens? Well, you've got a little ways to go, you know. I live up there and I couldn't even see your little tower. Good luck, anyway!"
These would-be god's had no idea how far from the heavens they were, and that's proved by how easy it is for God to halt construction. He doesn't rain fire and brimstone on them. He doesn't send an earthquake or a hurricane or a blizzard. He doesn't even send a wind to knock down the tower. He simply confuses them. Humans are weak and frail compared with God. No wars are fought or famines endured. A mere language barrier is all it takes to send the building crew packing.
Where in your life are you seeking to build heaven on earth? Where are you trying to reach the heavens, to exalt your own work over what God has called you to do? Where are you seeking to make a name for yourself rather than make God's name great?
We try to build heaven on earth in our lives in so many ways, but we don't have to reach up to heaven. In the end, heaven will come down to us. Because Christ came down to go through hell on our behalf, he has ensured that at the end of all things the heavenly Jerusalem will come down "out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband" (Rev. 21:2).
Our best human efforts to build a city to reach heaven will never measure up, but they don't have to. Because of Christ, heaven will come down for us. Put your hope in that and find your rest in Jesus.
It didn't take humanity long to get back to rebelling against their Creator. Just a few verses ago, God told the survivors of the ark to "be fruitful and multiply, teem on the earth and multiply in it” (9:7). This was a renewing of God's original command to Adam and Eve to "fill the earth and subdue it" (1:28). They were supposed to fill the earth, to bring order to all of God's creation and lead it to reflect God's glory back to him.
But that is not humanity's stated goal in this chapter: "Come, let us build ourselves a city and a tower with its top in the heavens, and let us make a name for ourselves, lest we be dispersed over the face of the whole earth" (11:4). The name they wanted to make great was their own, not God's. And the way they were going to do that was by building one great city, rather than being dispersed and actually filling the earth as God had commanded.
Babel is the first great self-salvation project. Man began in a Garden that was in the heavens; God was there! We lost that, but we would try pull ourselves up by our bootstraps and make our own way to heaven. Babel was an attempt to build heaven on earth, but Man would be earth's new god. We would lift ourselves up above the heavens and finally be like God. We would set our throne at the top of Babel's tower and call all creation to bow to us in worship.
Good thing God has a good sense of humor.
Picture the story in your mind. Man is building a tower "with its top in the heavens," but the Lord had to come down to see it (11:5, 7). It's as if God's saying, "Oh, that's nice, you guys made a little tower, did you? How quaint. Oh, it's supposed to go to the heavens? Well, you've got a little ways to go, you know. I live up there and I couldn't even see your little tower. Good luck, anyway!"
These would-be god's had no idea how far from the heavens they were, and that's proved by how easy it is for God to halt construction. He doesn't rain fire and brimstone on them. He doesn't send an earthquake or a hurricane or a blizzard. He doesn't even send a wind to knock down the tower. He simply confuses them. Humans are weak and frail compared with God. No wars are fought or famines endured. A mere language barrier is all it takes to send the building crew packing.
Where in your life are you seeking to build heaven on earth? Where are you trying to reach the heavens, to exalt your own work over what God has called you to do? Where are you seeking to make a name for yourself rather than make God's name great?
We try to build heaven on earth in our lives in so many ways, but we don't have to reach up to heaven. In the end, heaven will come down to us. Because Christ came down to go through hell on our behalf, he has ensured that at the end of all things the heavenly Jerusalem will come down "out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband" (Rev. 21:2).
Our best human efforts to build a city to reach heaven will never measure up, but they don't have to. Because of Christ, heaven will come down for us. Put your hope in that and find your rest in Jesus.
Saturday, March 5, 2011
March 5: Psalm. 25
Today's reading.
"To you, O LORD, I lift up my soul" (25:1). I wish I prayed like this.
There is a passionate abandonment in the psalmist's voice as he prays this prayer. He offers all of himself to the Lord. He declares that God is his highest, most earnest desire. "Make me to know your ways, O LORD; teach me your paths.... for you I wait all the day long" (25:4-5). I don't like waiting 30 seconds for a green light while I'm driving; the psalmist waits all day for the Lord.
We get to see a glimpse of why he was so passionate in his prayer, why he so desired communion with the Lord: "All the paths of the LORD are steadfast love and faithfulness" (25:10). He has seen God's grace, tasted God's mercy, and so prays with the sort of confidence and feeling that most of us have only experienced once or twice in our lives.
Perhaps you don't feel you have "enemies" in a personal sense. Maybe no faces come to mind when you read this prayer that God would "Consider how many are my foes" (25:19). But you and i both have trouble. We all have difficulty, all are faced with a circumstance or problem that we know is greater than us. What is it for you? Where do you need the help of the Lord in your life?
I ask that, because I'd like you to consider reading this psalm again, but praying it to God about yourself and your own circumstances. I was struck by the prayerful nature of this psalm and felt led to pray it myself. Take the time to slowly, thoughtfully pray these words to God on your own. I want very much to pray like the psalmist does, but just can't do it on my own. How gracious of our Lord to give us a book of prayer right in the middle of the Bible! By praying the psalms, we can all be led to pray with the psalmist's same passionate love for the Lord.
"To you, O LORD, I lift up my soul" (25:1). I wish I prayed like this.
There is a passionate abandonment in the psalmist's voice as he prays this prayer. He offers all of himself to the Lord. He declares that God is his highest, most earnest desire. "Make me to know your ways, O LORD; teach me your paths.... for you I wait all the day long" (25:4-5). I don't like waiting 30 seconds for a green light while I'm driving; the psalmist waits all day for the Lord.
We get to see a glimpse of why he was so passionate in his prayer, why he so desired communion with the Lord: "All the paths of the LORD are steadfast love and faithfulness" (25:10). He has seen God's grace, tasted God's mercy, and so prays with the sort of confidence and feeling that most of us have only experienced once or twice in our lives.
Perhaps you don't feel you have "enemies" in a personal sense. Maybe no faces come to mind when you read this prayer that God would "Consider how many are my foes" (25:19). But you and i both have trouble. We all have difficulty, all are faced with a circumstance or problem that we know is greater than us. What is it for you? Where do you need the help of the Lord in your life?
I ask that, because I'd like you to consider reading this psalm again, but praying it to God about yourself and your own circumstances. I was struck by the prayerful nature of this psalm and felt led to pray it myself. Take the time to slowly, thoughtfully pray these words to God on your own. I want very much to pray like the psalmist does, but just can't do it on my own. How gracious of our Lord to give us a book of prayer right in the middle of the Bible! By praying the psalms, we can all be led to pray with the psalmist's same passionate love for the Lord.
Friday, March 4, 2011
A Friday Prayer
I realized last week how much I need these Friday days of rest from the blog. I went 13 days straight the past two weeks on the blog, which is a good reminder of why I built in the day off to begin with. :)
Please take time today to reflect on the beautiful truth we've read in God's Word this week. I've loved getting into the Word with you all this week, as we have gotten to see the gospel from multiple different angles. It is always a blessing for me to dig into the riches of Scripture with my brothers and sisters. Thank you for faithfully reading with me.
Here is a brief prayer written by Thomas Cranmer (1489-1556), Archbishop of Canterbury, for the Book of Common Prayer. The English is old; I've included the original, and then an edited version with a bit more updated language. Feel free to use either.
Please take time today to reflect on the beautiful truth we've read in God's Word this week. I've loved getting into the Word with you all this week, as we have gotten to see the gospel from multiple different angles. It is always a blessing for me to dig into the riches of Scripture with my brothers and sisters. Thank you for faithfully reading with me.
Here is a brief prayer written by Thomas Cranmer (1489-1556), Archbishop of Canterbury, for the Book of Common Prayer. The English is old; I've included the original, and then an edited version with a bit more updated language. Feel free to use either.
Almighty God, who hast knit together thy elect in one communion and fellowship in the mystical body of thy Son Christ our Lord, grant us grace so to follow thy saints in all virtues and godly living, that we may come to those unspeakable joys which thou hast prepared for all them that unfeignedly love thee; through Jesus Christ. Amen.Updated:
Almighty God, you have knit together your chosen people into one community and fellowship in the mystical body of your Son, Christ our Lord. Please, grant us grace to follow your holy ones in all the virtues and godly living, that we may come to the unspeakable joys which you have prepared for those who wholeheartedly love you. We pray this through Christ Jesus our Lord. Amen.
Thursday, March 3, 2011
March 3: Genesis 10
Today's reading.
Tradition says that the author of Genesis was Moses. Despite many modern attempts to dissect the text like a frog in ninth grade biology, I don't think there is much firm evidence to say that Moses wasn't the author. In fact, the end of the last chapter and this one together provides pretty good internal evidence that Moses had a hand in the writing of Genesis.
You'll recall that at the end of chapter 9, Noah loses himself at the bottom of a wine bottle. In that story, Ham, Noah's youngest son, finds his passed out, naked father and, rather than cover him up in dignity, goes and tells his brothers about it. His brothers do the right thing and cover Noah up, but when Noah comes to his senses and realizes that Ham left him in his shame on the floor of his tent, he pronounces a curse on Ham's son, Canaan (9:25-27).
Chapter 10 introduces a new section of Genesis with a genealogy of Noah's sons. But this genealogy isn't there to simply convey the facts. Genealogies aren't merely there to tell you about Japheth's family tree. In fact, this genealogy has very little to say about Japheth because Japheth plays a very minor role in God's purposes as they will be set forth in the Scriptures from now on. This genealogy is meant to convey an important historical and theological point. And that's where Moses comes in.
Genesis wasn't written in a cave, but was the first of the five books of the Law, the Torah, which make up the first five books of our Bible. Genesis was written at the time of Israel's exodus from the land of Egypt and was meant for that audience: former Egyptian slaves whom God had miraculously delivered and whom God was now leading to a land that he had promised to their ancestors. So, from the perspective of an Israelite living fourteen or fifteen centuries before Christ, Japheth's family line is unworthy of more than the four verses it gets. But Ham's line is very significant. Ham fathered both Egypt (whose descendants oppressed the Israelites) and Canaan (whose descendants were then living in the land that God had promised to give to Israel). In other words, Ham's family gets fifteen verses to Japheth's four because Israel wants to know their enemies. God was leading them to war against the Canaanites, so they'd better study their opponent as best they can before starting hostilities.
Ham was the father of a virtual "who's who" of Israel's enemies: Nineveh, Assyria, Egypt, Sidon, the Jebusites, the Amorites, the Girgashites, the Hivites, Sodom, Gomorrah, Babel (Babylon), the Casluhim (from whom the Philistines came). Name an enemy of ancient Israel and odds are you can find their name here. Israel (Jacob) was a descendant of Shem (where we get the word "Semite"). Shem's descendants get ten verses. But the emphasis here is on Ham and his son Canaan's line.
Which is why I think it makes sense that Moses had a hand in writing this genealogy. He was getting ready to lead Israel to fight Canaan, and so wrote this with an eye toward educating his people about where they came from and where the people they were about to displace from the Promised Land originated. All the names of all those evil peoples would have struck a bit of terror and resolve in the hearts of the soon-to-be-warring Israelites. Moses was getting them ready for battle.
The incredible thing about the gospel is that the dividing wall of hostility between Jew and Gentile, holy people and profane, has been broken down in Christ (Eph. 2:13-16). God's people in the Old Testament had to keep themselves holy by attacking and avoiding those who were not Jewish. But in the New Testament, that national religious separation has been abolished.
Israel would have heard "enemy, enemy, enemy," when they came to Genesis 10 and read the names of all those hostile peoples. But in Christ, that hostility has been transformed to a call to love our enemies and pray for those who persecute us (Matt. 5:44). In the gospel, we hear that God so loved the world, not merely the nation of Israel (John 3:16). In God's kingdom, we have no enemies, only the call to suffer injustice at the hands of those who hate us. We have no enemies in Christ, only neighbors whom we are called to love (Matt. 22:39).
Whose name makes your blood boil? Who are you inclined to dislike, even to hate? Who in your life do you consider an enemy? At his arrest, Jesus told Peter to put down his sword (John 18:10); you and I are likewise called, not to seek justice or vengeance for ourselves in this life, but to humbly submit ourselves to the law of love. We are to love those who hate us, to love those we want to hate. That is the beauty—and the responsibility—of the gospel.
Tradition says that the author of Genesis was Moses. Despite many modern attempts to dissect the text like a frog in ninth grade biology, I don't think there is much firm evidence to say that Moses wasn't the author. In fact, the end of the last chapter and this one together provides pretty good internal evidence that Moses had a hand in the writing of Genesis.
You'll recall that at the end of chapter 9, Noah loses himself at the bottom of a wine bottle. In that story, Ham, Noah's youngest son, finds his passed out, naked father and, rather than cover him up in dignity, goes and tells his brothers about it. His brothers do the right thing and cover Noah up, but when Noah comes to his senses and realizes that Ham left him in his shame on the floor of his tent, he pronounces a curse on Ham's son, Canaan (9:25-27).
Chapter 10 introduces a new section of Genesis with a genealogy of Noah's sons. But this genealogy isn't there to simply convey the facts. Genealogies aren't merely there to tell you about Japheth's family tree. In fact, this genealogy has very little to say about Japheth because Japheth plays a very minor role in God's purposes as they will be set forth in the Scriptures from now on. This genealogy is meant to convey an important historical and theological point. And that's where Moses comes in.
Genesis wasn't written in a cave, but was the first of the five books of the Law, the Torah, which make up the first five books of our Bible. Genesis was written at the time of Israel's exodus from the land of Egypt and was meant for that audience: former Egyptian slaves whom God had miraculously delivered and whom God was now leading to a land that he had promised to their ancestors. So, from the perspective of an Israelite living fourteen or fifteen centuries before Christ, Japheth's family line is unworthy of more than the four verses it gets. But Ham's line is very significant. Ham fathered both Egypt (whose descendants oppressed the Israelites) and Canaan (whose descendants were then living in the land that God had promised to give to Israel). In other words, Ham's family gets fifteen verses to Japheth's four because Israel wants to know their enemies. God was leading them to war against the Canaanites, so they'd better study their opponent as best they can before starting hostilities.
Ham was the father of a virtual "who's who" of Israel's enemies: Nineveh, Assyria, Egypt, Sidon, the Jebusites, the Amorites, the Girgashites, the Hivites, Sodom, Gomorrah, Babel (Babylon), the Casluhim (from whom the Philistines came). Name an enemy of ancient Israel and odds are you can find their name here. Israel (Jacob) was a descendant of Shem (where we get the word "Semite"). Shem's descendants get ten verses. But the emphasis here is on Ham and his son Canaan's line.
Which is why I think it makes sense that Moses had a hand in writing this genealogy. He was getting ready to lead Israel to fight Canaan, and so wrote this with an eye toward educating his people about where they came from and where the people they were about to displace from the Promised Land originated. All the names of all those evil peoples would have struck a bit of terror and resolve in the hearts of the soon-to-be-warring Israelites. Moses was getting them ready for battle.
The incredible thing about the gospel is that the dividing wall of hostility between Jew and Gentile, holy people and profane, has been broken down in Christ (Eph. 2:13-16). God's people in the Old Testament had to keep themselves holy by attacking and avoiding those who were not Jewish. But in the New Testament, that national religious separation has been abolished.
Israel would have heard "enemy, enemy, enemy," when they came to Genesis 10 and read the names of all those hostile peoples. But in Christ, that hostility has been transformed to a call to love our enemies and pray for those who persecute us (Matt. 5:44). In the gospel, we hear that God so loved the world, not merely the nation of Israel (John 3:16). In God's kingdom, we have no enemies, only the call to suffer injustice at the hands of those who hate us. We have no enemies in Christ, only neighbors whom we are called to love (Matt. 22:39).
Whose name makes your blood boil? Who are you inclined to dislike, even to hate? Who in your life do you consider an enemy? At his arrest, Jesus told Peter to put down his sword (John 18:10); you and I are likewise called, not to seek justice or vengeance for ourselves in this life, but to humbly submit ourselves to the law of love. We are to love those who hate us, to love those we want to hate. That is the beauty—and the responsibility—of the gospel.
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
March 2: Genesis 9
Today's reading.
God's re-creative work begins when Noah and the other inhabitants of the ark step out into the soggy, post flood world. Mankind is still evil (Gen. 8:21), but that does not prevent God's blessing. They may be fallen people, but they are still very much his image bearers. God made them, loves them, and wants good for them.
They are to be fruitful and multiply (9:1, 7) and rule the earth that God has entrusted to their care. The institution of justice for murder is established on the basis of the fact that we are God's image bearers and so ought not to have our blood shed (9:6). God is extremely concerned that the human race continue to survive centuries hence. His concern makes sense, given the fact that a flood just wiped out nearly all the living.
God is so concerned that he makes a covenant to prove that he will never again destroy the earth by flood. God sets his bow in the sky as a sign of his promise. That rainbow is always pointed toward heaven; it is as if a cosmic bow was strung and aimed at God. The idea is that God's promise to maintain the world will be kept or God himself will be killed by heavenly arrows. God takes his covenants seriously.
And as if determined to prove that humanity is really unworthy of God's favor, Noah plants a vineyard, gets drunk off the wine, and holds the world's first frat party during which he gets naked and passes out on the floor of his tent (9:20-21). Noah experienced God's salvation in a physical way that no one else has ever experienced since. Yet, in spite of God's incredible grace to him, Noah chooses to drown his sorrows in the bottle rather than cast them before the Lord.
I love the fact that Noah was such an imperfect man. God counted him righteous on account of his faith, but he still lapsed and did things that a Christian shouldn't. He is to be commended for his faithfulness, but we can't follow his example unquestioningly. That's because Noah is a sinner and God uses sinners to accomplish his purposes.
The Christian life isn't about our work, but about what God has done for us. God can use the worst of us, the weakest of us, the most sinful of us to accomplish his purposes on the earth. God's ability to use us does not ultimately come down to our willingness or thorough obedience (though he loves these things!). Ultimately, God's ability to use us comes from our humility before him. If we will listen humbly as his servants, he can do anything through us. He saved the world through a naked drunkard; what couldn't he do with us?
God's re-creative work begins when Noah and the other inhabitants of the ark step out into the soggy, post flood world. Mankind is still evil (Gen. 8:21), but that does not prevent God's blessing. They may be fallen people, but they are still very much his image bearers. God made them, loves them, and wants good for them.
They are to be fruitful and multiply (9:1, 7) and rule the earth that God has entrusted to their care. The institution of justice for murder is established on the basis of the fact that we are God's image bearers and so ought not to have our blood shed (9:6). God is extremely concerned that the human race continue to survive centuries hence. His concern makes sense, given the fact that a flood just wiped out nearly all the living.
God is so concerned that he makes a covenant to prove that he will never again destroy the earth by flood. God sets his bow in the sky as a sign of his promise. That rainbow is always pointed toward heaven; it is as if a cosmic bow was strung and aimed at God. The idea is that God's promise to maintain the world will be kept or God himself will be killed by heavenly arrows. God takes his covenants seriously.
And as if determined to prove that humanity is really unworthy of God's favor, Noah plants a vineyard, gets drunk off the wine, and holds the world's first frat party during which he gets naked and passes out on the floor of his tent (9:20-21). Noah experienced God's salvation in a physical way that no one else has ever experienced since. Yet, in spite of God's incredible grace to him, Noah chooses to drown his sorrows in the bottle rather than cast them before the Lord.
I love the fact that Noah was such an imperfect man. God counted him righteous on account of his faith, but he still lapsed and did things that a Christian shouldn't. He is to be commended for his faithfulness, but we can't follow his example unquestioningly. That's because Noah is a sinner and God uses sinners to accomplish his purposes.
The Christian life isn't about our work, but about what God has done for us. God can use the worst of us, the weakest of us, the most sinful of us to accomplish his purposes on the earth. God's ability to use us does not ultimately come down to our willingness or thorough obedience (though he loves these things!). Ultimately, God's ability to use us comes from our humility before him. If we will listen humbly as his servants, he can do anything through us. He saved the world through a naked drunkard; what couldn't he do with us?
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
March 1: Psalm 24
Today's reading.
The Bible makes audacious claims that bristle against our base assumptions. "It's my life." "I can do what I want." "I have a right." For the vast majority of us in the vast majority of our decisions, we begin with that premise. The Bible begs to differ.
"The earth is the LORD’s and the fullness thereof, the world and those who dwell therein" (24:1). Everything is God's. And not just the seasons and the stars and the oceans. "The world and those who dwell therein." We all think we belong to ourselves. We all are wrong.
The Bible makes audacious claims that bristle against our base assumptions. "It's my life." "I can do what I want." "I have a right." For the vast majority of us in the vast majority of our decisions, we begin with that premise. The Bible begs to differ.
"The earth is the LORD’s and the fullness thereof, the world and those who dwell therein" (24:1). Everything is God's. And not just the seasons and the stars and the oceans. "The world and those who dwell therein." We all think we belong to ourselves. We all are wrong.
Slavery is a repulsive idea in our culture, and for good reason. Given the abuses and injustices of former centuries, we believe slavery to be a serious evil. No human being has a right to own the life of another. I think the logic holds, but I don't think we typically understand why. I can't own you and you can't own me because we already have an Owner. Slavery is not a moral evil because our Creator has endowed us with certain "inalienable rights." It's a moral evil because it goes against the nature of things. All life belongs to God. When you or I stake a claim to another human soul, we rob God of his rights. We step between God and what is rightfully his. It isn't so much a violation of human rights as of divine rights.
You and I belong to God. Our sinful nature squirms beneath that truth, but that doesn't make it any less true. We belong to God. But we don't belong to God like a slave belongs to his master. We belong to him as a child to his Father. This "King of glory" (24:8-10), the one who established the earth in infinite dominance over the forces of chaos (24:2), the one who made and rules all things, is our Father.
God owns everything and could treat us however he chooses. He is God and we belong to him. He has the right to do with us as he wishes. And that's the beauty of the gospel. God has done with us as he wishes. He has accomplished his deepest desire where we are concerned. Christ has redeemed us and secured our redemption and adoption into the household of God. We belong to a God who is not capricious, mean, arbitrary or cruel. He is kind, loving, tender, compassionate, merciful and gracious! At the fall, he could have thrown us out with the garbage (composting), but instead he chose to have his way with us by sacrificing himself for us and redeeming us from the darkness of sin.
God owns you. And that's the best news you'll hear all day.
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